Letters

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Most people would describe the first day of their adventure as being "breathtaking" and "momentous" and "extraordinary." For Clarke Griffin, the only word she could use was "average." She rolled out of bed, her golden locks tangled and disheveled. Her bare feet hit the carpet silently as she slammed a fist onto her alarm clock. It was summer, but her mother made her wake up early in order to head to the clinic, just like every other Thursday. Clarke shuffled lazily around her room, throwing on a clean outfit and thumping down the steps to make breakfast.

As she reached the bottom of the stairwell, she noticed that the post had already arrived. Strange, she thought, but decided she would let the pile of what was most likely bills for her mother sit on the floor until she came home that evening. Clarke continued into the kitchen and opened the pantry. She dug around for a bit, eventually pulling out a box of Cheerios. She poured herself a bowl and ate it dry, like always. From the other room, Clarke could hear the vintage grandfather clock striking nine, the tolls resonating throughout the house. With a start, Clarke realized how angry her mother would be if she was late again. She set her bowl in the sink and rushed towards the door, accidentally kicking the pile of mail near the door. With a frustrated grunt, Clarke gathered the pile and set it on the table.

Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke noticed a thick, oddly yellowish envelope with emerald green writing on it. Even more odd about it was that it was addressed to her. Clarke knew she wasn't the most popular girl in her school (far from it, in fact). Perhaps it was because she was a know-it-all perfectionist? Or that her father simply disappeared several years ago and was found dead weeks later? Whatever the reasons, Clarke knew this letter wasn't as simple as an invitation to a birthday party. She decided to take it with her and open it on the way to the clinic.

Clarke stepped outside. Despite the hour, the air was growing warm and Clarke knew she would appreciate the air conditioning in the clinic. She peered excitedly at the envelope in her hands, her eyes tracing the loopy letters that spelled out her name. A strange memory invaded her brain, leaving her momentarily paralyzed on the sidewalk.

Her father sat at the kitchen table. Four year old Clarke bounced around the kitchen, begging for just one piggy back ride before bed. Abby, Clarke's mother, was attempting to catch the sly and energetic girl, but she managed to cling to her father's leg, unwilling to move. Jake Griffin, her father, was reading some odd documents from work. Jake smiled tiredly and stood up, telling Abby he didn't mind one piggy back ride. He set down the papers and picked Clarke up. As she flew into the air, she noticed that the documents were written in a shiny, emerald green color, her favorite color.

Clarke continued walking, dismissing the memory. It wasn't often that she thought about her father, and even less that she had specific memories about him. Although she couldn't quite shake this memory away, like she could with the rest of them. It seemed to sit on her shoulders, enveloping her like a blanket: warm, safe, and familiar. Turning the envelope over and over in her palms, Clarke prepared herself to open it.

With a soft ripping sound, she broke the bizarre wax seal and pulled several papers out. She glanced at them, her eyes roaming the parchment hungrily. It was addressed to her from a person named Marcus Kane at a school called Hogwarts.

"I've been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" Clarke whispered doubtfully to herself. "Now I've been called some pretty horrible things, but never a witch..."

Clarke sighed and tucked the parchment under her arm as she gazed halfheartedly at the rest of the papers. They included the required equipment for her "year of studies at Hogwarts." Clarke had been the receiving end of plenty of pranks, but never one so elaborate. She sniffed slightly, a few tears welling up in her eyes. Of course it's always me, she thought dejectedly. The rest of her walk to the clinic was slow and dismal, despite the sunny day. All thoughts of the memory about her father pushed out of her brain.

Clarke finally reached the clinic and trudged inside. She walked to her mother's office and flung the papers onto her desk, prepared to forget about them. Turning around, she almost ran into her mother. Rather than greet her, she sidestepped her and pushed open the door, ready to start her chores.

"Clarke?" Abby asked breathlessly. "Where did you get this?" She held up the papers, a confused look carving itself onto her face.

"It's just a prank from some kids at school, mom. Don't worry about it," Clarke stepped into the hallway. Abby grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the office, closing the door.

"Clarke..." Abby's eyes softened, but she still appeared nervous. "This isn't a prank. This is a real school and you have been accepted. Your father studied here. He was a great wizard..." Abby trailed off as she noticed the furious look on Clarke's face.

"I would expect this from stupid kids at school, but my own mother? What, are unicorns and leprechauns real now, too? I can't believe you would disrespect dad like this. You just-" Clarke couldn't even find the words she wanted to express, so she simply stormed down the hallway and out the doors of the clinic. Patients and doctors alike stared at her as she went, but she didn't care.

As Clarke raced home, she didn't notice the trees swaying, despite the breezeless day. She didn't notice the flowers wilting as her feet passed them. However, she did notice the light on her front porch shatter as she reached her front door. Terrified, Clarke burst inside and ran to her room.

I'm going crazy. Mom's going crazy. This isn't happening. There's nothing special about me. I'm just Clarke Griffin. I'm just that weird girl that everyone passes without a glance. I- Clarke stopped mid thought. Sitting on her nightstand was another envelope with green writing. It was addressed to her. Clarke closed her eyes and pinched herself. Hard. A slight yelp escaped her as she opened her eyes and glanced at the nightstand. The paper was still there.

A slight feeling of excitement and hope crawled out of the shadows of Clarke's mind. A chance to escape her own world and establish herself in a new one. Suddenly, her memory from earlier that morning flooded her brain, quenching it like a scorched field in midsummer. Her father had been a part of this world. Soon Clarke would be able to join it, too.

The only question left was what had happened. How had her father died? Was it because of this? How was her mother involved in all of this? Was she magical, too? Why didn't she tell Clarke about this earlier?

Despite all of the unanswered questions swimming in her brain, Clarke knew that, eventually, everything would work out.

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