Black and Yellow 2

Noah woke one September morning to the sound of his father calling him from downstairs. He rolled out from his bed and stumbled out of his room and down the stairs still half asleep.  He dodged multiple piles of books and papers that were scattered across the floor and piled precariously on the stairs. He stepped through the minefield easily, used to the mess.

He jumped over the final stack of books, sliding into his chair at the breakfast table. His dad turned and smiled at him apologetically. “Your mother promised she would move that stuff to her room, but…” he trailed off, and Noah rolled his eyes. She had been promising that forever. A bowl of oatmeal sat waiting for him, and he dug in without a second thought.

A voice spoke from the doorway behind him, “I’m sorry, but the wizarding revolution of the nineteen hundreds is not going to be slowed down by a bit of cleaning that needs to be done.” Noah’s mother said, sliding into the chair next to him and grinning at his father. “Besides, it’s all here just as a test. I’m trying to make the both of you a little more agile.” His father sat down across the table, passing a bowl to her and setting his own down too.

“I thought you said my clumsiness was adorable,” he gasped, pretending to sound shocked.  Noah rolls his eyes while they aren’t looking. It’s not like he’s heard this argument before.

His mother smiles mischievously, “it’s also debilitating, sweetie.” She says, and Noah snorts in his oatmeal, grinning. She turns to him and reaches into her apron, pulling out a crisp green envelope. “A nice owl gave me this through my widow this morning,” she says as she hands it to him, “looks like they’re willing to take you back.” Noah snatches the envelope from her, ripping it open with enthusiasm.

Of course, it said the same thing that it always did, the same thing that it would for the next six years that he would go to Hogwarts but still, it was exciting to open. He didn’t think that would ever change. “Here’s the list,” he says, pulling out the supplies list for his second year at Hogwarts. She looks it over.

“Hmm...” she says thoughtfully, stroking her chin. Looks like quite a lot. How about you pay, Noah?” she asks, handing the list back to him.

He smiles, shrugging his shoulders. “Sure,” he says agreeably, before turning to his father. “Hey dad, can I have some money?” he asks jokingly, and both his parents laugh. Soon, he’s finished scraping the last drags of oatmeal from his bowl, and after abandoning the dishes in the sink he’s back upstairs in his room, letter in hand.

Noah was fairly certain his bedroom was the neatest room in the house; his mother’s studies had yet to creep their papery way onto his floor. Bed neatly made, floor neatly vacuumed, dressers clean and dust free. Of course, it was a lot easier when his parents turned blind eyes to his magical use a home. It’s not like anybody could tell anyways. It was a lot easier to make his bed when he could do it with a simple wave of his wand.

The wand of suspect was sitting on his bedside table, and that’s when he sets his letter. The one form last year is still there, and the reminder of its arrival still makes him smile.  Inside the drawers sit his textbooks unopened since last year, despite his homework for over the summer. Well, he’d come up with some excuse for that.  On top of those were probably his robes, but Noah doubted that he’d still fit into those. And piled neatly in the top drawer were the letters from his friends he had been collecting over the summer.

Back to Hogwarts. Like most kids, he was excited. Second year status, Noah thought, here I come. And with a smile, he decided it was really never too early to start packing. Even if term didn’t start until September first.

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The letter came right to Ruby’s windows, early afternoon one gloomy Saturday. Of course, lately, most Saturdays were gloomy, but the quiet tapping on her widow was a happy surprise. She was reading when it happened, a Muggle book called the Lord of the Rings. Ruby thought it was funny. They had no concept of magic, but the persistent tapping on her window pulled her from the pages.