"Hogwarts?" My mother asked. It sounded like a weird plant I never wanted to encounter.

"Hogwarts." Hagrid assured her as he pulled a letter out of his pocket and handed it to me. The front was enscribed with a bright red ink, which was handwritten.

Miss D. Winters

The Bedroom at the Top of the Stairs

6 Privet Drive

Little Whinging


"Well, go ahead. Open the darn thing." Hagrid urged me.

Opening the letter took some work. It was thick, off-white paper sealed with a thick wax. Enclosed in the letter were two sheets of paper. One read:




Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall

Dear Miss Winters,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Horace Slughorn,

Deputy Headmaster

"W-what?" I asked. "You're lying. I'm not 'special.' I am as ordinary as anyone can get. I can't be a- a witch!"

"Danny, yer as ordinary as I am." Hagrid said. I looked the man up and down. He couldn't be serious. He was a giant, a literal giant, and we were equals. Yeah, right.

"So what now? Where is this Hogwarts? And how do we pay for all of," my mom pulled the letter out of my hand and read the list of books and equipment, "this? Do they use dollars, or pounds at Hogwarts?"

"Er, no. Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts is our money." He pulled out one gold, one silver, and one bronze coin out of his seemingly endless pockets.

"But we don't have any of that." I argued. Not that I didn't want to go to Hogwarts, it was the exact opposite. This was my someday, I wasn't going to let it fly away.

"Headmistress McGonagall took care of that. See, yer a special witch. Yer not from Europe, yer from America. As the first American witch, McGonagall wanted ter make sure you got along okay." I was still confused. That day was just confusing, with all of the moving and being told I was a witch. Usual confusing things. "Which reminds me." Hagrid continued. He took out a piece of that thick paper and began writing on it:

Dear Professer McGonagall,

Given Danny her letter. Taking her to get her things tomorrow. Hope you're well.


He then reached inside one of his pockets and pulled out a small, ruffled looking owl. A real, live owl. It looked at Hagrid, obviously annoyed, before snatching the folded up letter in its beak. "To Professor McGonagall." It didn't budge, however, until Hagrid dropped a silver Sickle into a tiny pouch attached to its leg.

It flew away, out of a window I didn't know was open, into the cold night air. "H-how did you...?" I stuttered, still looking at the open window.

"They're trained with magic. All of the stuff yer gonna learn at Hogwarts." Hagrid answered.

"If I'm okay with it." My mom interjected.

I looked over at her, stunned at what I'd heard. "What?"

"You heard me. What if I don't want you to go?" My mom looked crazed. "Danny, we came here to start over."

"Yes, and I can start over at Hogwarts!"

"How do we know this Hogwarts is even real? How do we know this isn't a prank? So they can take you and- and-"

"Mom." I walked over and put my hands on her shoulders. "It's real. And I'm going."

"Young lady you are not. You're in fifth grade."

"No I'm not. Not anymore since we moved. I'm in year five or year six it whatever it is in England. At Hogwarts, I'll be at the same level as everyone else. And I can make new friends that are the same as me." I was hoping everything I was saying would come true. Right now my mom was borderline crazy, for some odd reason. And I needed to calm her down.

"Er, I'll come back tomorrow fer yer answer. If you agree, I'll go with ya to get yer things. Have a good night." And with that, Hagrid left.

"I-I'm going to bed." My mom muttered, and started to trudge off to her room.

"We need to talk about this tomorrow before Hagrid comes back." I called at her. She gave no sign she heard me, so I climbed the stairs to my room. I fell asleep easily, dreaming of Hogwarts, witches, and wizards.

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