I was only aware of two things.
1: I was hopelessly and desperately in love with the boy who deserved better.
2: I was probably going to die.
When the Triwizard Tournament gets reinstated for the first time since You-Know-Who's return, things do not...
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4:58
4:59
God, I should have just stayed asleep.
It feels like hours between each minute as the bright green numbers steadily blink in front of me.
I hate green.
It reminds me of booger flavored Bertie Bott's and those horribly bitter muggle smoothies mum makes. Why can't she make smoothies with pancakes in them instead?
I rub my tired eyes and glance outside for the millionth time to see if the sun has risen any higher in the past three minutes. It hasn't.
I want nothing more than to crawl back under the warm sheets and nod off again, but that's out of the question. What if some fancy wizard shows up at the door and hand-delivers it to me? Or instead of an owl they send some type of magical creature like a Pheonix or a Griffin? I can't miss that!
However, my heavy head and drooping eyelids say otherwise. I consider attempting to make a cup of coffee. Mum loves coffee. She says it keeps her awake when she's tired, but I think it tastes horrible.
I'm not sure I know how to make it. I'm not tall enough to reach the cupboard anyway.
I rest my elbows on the kitchen table and lay my forehead between them. The cool tile feels nice on my face. I'll just close my eyes for five minutes. The second my eyes shut, I feel a wave of drowsiness wash over me.
Tap tap tap
When I open my eyes, the kitchen is filled with light and the stupid green clock reads 7:23.
Great.
TAP TAP TAP
The sound pulls my attention to the window and my mood instantly brightens. Perched on the windowsill is a stout, irritated looking owl. It looks well groomed; the layered feathers of its wings are smooth and almost glossy. In its beak, it clutches a letter.
My letter.
The owl gives one more impatient tap on the glass, like it's telling me to hurry up. I practically skip over to the window and slide it open.
With shaky hands, I gingerly take the mail from the bird's pointed beak. The moment I have it, the owl flaps its wings and takes off into the warm summer sky. I guess he has places to be.
I try to contain my excitement for the sake of my sleeping family as I shut the window. Sitting back down at the table, I hastily open what I've been waiting for since December.
"Dear Mr. Tomlinson,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
