"Grandpa Luke, Grandma Sansa, we're finally here to see you!"
The instant the car door swung open, Nia shot out like a small, highly energetic bolt of lightning, traversing the short distance from the driveway to the porch in a blur. Her arms were already wide open, and she launched herself into Luke's waiting embrace.
"Long time no see, Nia, my whirlwind. Have you been keeping the school busy since term started?" Luke chuckled, hugging his excited granddaughter fiercely.
Nia immediately pulled back, her lower lip sticking out in a dramatic pout. "No, school is utterly boring. It's all arithmetic and boring books. I want to go to Hogwarts! Why can't I go now?"
"Now, now, Nia isn't old enough yet. We still have two long years to wait until you get your invitation," Luke soothed her, but his eyes were already glancing past her shoulder, scanning the quiet street with an instinctual, ingrained caution. He looked up at the approaching Herberts. "Let's get everything inside, please. We can talk better indoors."
Sansa, having just emerged from the house, smiled beatifically. "Nia, did you miss your old Grandma Sansa?"
"Grandma Sansa, I missed you so, so much!" Nia transferred her vigorous affection to the older woman, causing Sansa to giggle delightedly, momentarily distracted from the parcels.
"Albert sent something back this morning by owl post, and I think it's the main package," Herb started, struggling slightly with the large, Featherlight-charmed box.
"Don't talk about that out here," Luke interrupted, his voice dropping to a low, firm register. He gestured urgently toward the house. "We need to observe all the precautions he mentioned."
Once inside, the heavy door was shut, and the latch thrown. The sense of secrecy was palpable.
"We got ours this morning, too," Sansa shared, her smile returning. "A smaller package with a lovely note. You know, I never expected the specialized drinks of the wizarding world to taste quite so… unique. I was just having a look at it when you arrived."
"Don't leave that cat in the car, Daisy," Luke called out, observing the final approach.
"Never," Daisy responded, a fiercely protective tone in her voice as she carried Tom's cage into the room. She was meticulous about her pets.
In the middle of the large oak table, Sheila, Albert's small, sleek owl, was perched. She was calmly munching on the special box of owl nuts Albert had thoughtfully included for her.
The moment Daisy released Tom from the cage, the orange feline transformed into a coiled spring. Tom instantly spotted the foreign, feathered entity perched on his territory. He arched his back, fur standing on end, and let out a low, vibrating hiss, glaring murderously at the owl.
Sheila, however, simply tilted her head, her enormous amber eyes fixing the cat with an unnervingly intelligent gaze. She let out a small, dismissive hoot, as if saying, I am a working professional, not prey. Kindly mind your manners.
The tension was immediate and high-stakes.
"Hush, Tom," Daisy commanded sharply, reaching down to scoop up the agitated cat. She settled him securely on her lap, holding him tightly until the rhythmic purr returned, though Tom's eyes remained narrow slits of fury directed at the impassive bird.
"These are also the things Albert sent back," Herb said, lowering the bulky box onto the table next to Sheila. He looked at the opened, smaller box that contained a second, slightly crumpled, letter and a handful of photos—Luke's personal delivery.
"You really don't know your son very well, do you?" Daisy said to Herb, a proud, slightly self-satisfied tilt to her head as she stroked the purring Tom. "Even if you forget the date, he never forgets his family. He plans these things out weeks in advance." Albert had always been her greatest, most successful creation, and she allowed no comparisons.
"But where on earth did he buy all these things?" Sansa wondered, looking at the mysterious labels on the drinks. "Surely, these specialized items aren't sold within the school grounds?"
"It must have been through Owl Mail," Herb explained, his gaze distant as he thought about the complex logistics Albert must have arranged. "He's done it before, remember? Shopping in Diagon Alley using mail order, even before he left. This boy always finds a way."
"Can we open it now, Daddy? Please, please?" Nia begged, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"Of course, my little explorer," Herb chuckled, granting permission.
The family gathered around the table, the central focus now being the large, sealed box. Nia was given the ceremonial honor of slicing the thick twine.
Inside, nestled among strange, colorful snacks, they found a neatly rolled length of parchment tied with a scarlet ribbon, a paper bag full of pictures, and several bottles wrapped carefully in straw.
Nia immediately snatched the paper bag. "Photos first!" she announced, spilling the contents. They were glossy, high-quality images, each one stamped with a neat, tiny sorting number on the back—Albert's practical cataloging system.
Sansa picked up a photo of a magnificent, red steam engine belching smoke. "This is it, Albert mentioned it in my letter. He called it the Hogwarts Express—it's how the children travel up to the school."
Daisy took the image, turning it over in her hands with a critical eye. "They use steam locomotives? For the most advanced school in the world? Honestly, Herb, you can't find an operable antique like this anywhere in all of Britain. Wizards, for all their grand magic, are hopelessly behind the times with basic infrastructure."
She put down the photo and picked up a glass bottle shaped subtly like a gourd, capped with a pumpkin-shaped lid. She carefully twisted it off. "Right, let's try this 'local delicacy' he mentioned." She poured a small amount of the orange liquid into a cup.
"It looks exactly like the juice we buy, but the smell is slightly… earthy," Daisy observed. She took a cautious sip, her expression thoughtful. "It's not unpleasant, but it's overly sweet, with a strong aftertaste of cinnamon and something vaguely metallic. Almost like a fortified squash drink, but very, very rich."
She poured samples for everyone. Nia took a sip and recoiled instantly. "Yuck! This juice is sticky! It tastes too much like the inside of a Halloween decoration. The juice outside is much better!"
Herb took a large gulp. "It's interesting. A bit heavy, certainly. But it has a comforting, warm quality to it. I can see why children would drink it in cold weather."
Luke, after taking a sip, closed his eyes, a faint, melancholic smile touching his lips. "It's exactly as I remember. That strange blend of spices and sweetness... it's a taste that belongs entirely to the other side." His eyes shone with a momentary, wistful longing.
Nia, having dismissed the Pumpkin Juice, immediately pointed at the next bottle. "I want to drink this! The label says 'Butterbeer'!"
"Hold on, darling. This says 'Beer,'" Daisy hesitated, turning the bottle in her hand, frowning at the label. "Albert knows you shouldn't be drinking alcohol at your age."
"It's perfectly safe, Daisy," Luke assured her quickly. "It's more of a sweet, flavored soft drink, like a specialized soda. There's only the barest trace of alcohol, often less than in a fermented loaf of bread. Albert wouldn't send back anything harmful." He poured a sample for Herb and Daisy first.
Daisy sniffed the creamy foam. "It has a distinct buttery caramel aroma," she noted, taking a tentative sip. Her expression brightened slightly. "Now this is smoother. It's fizzy, like a proper soda, and the butterscotch flavor cuts through the sweetness nicely. It's actually quite palatable."
Herb agreed. "The letter says Butterbeer is their equivalent of a major soft drink—a huge seller. It's certainly unusual, but I like the warmth it leaves on the tongue."
"Can I try it now? Please?" Nia pleaded, having witnessed the butter-flavored approval.
Given the double endorsement, Daisy poured her a small cup. Nia took a large, excited sip, then pulled a face. "It's... foamy! And too sweet. Why do wizards drink all this weird stuff?"
"They grow up on it, darling," Luke said simply. "It's their culture."
Nia finished her small glass of Butterbeer quickly, concluding her review of the magical beverages. "Well, I'm done with the drinks. They can keep their weird-tasting soda."
"Just remember there is a trace amount of alcohol, Nia," Daisy reminded her, though her voice lacked real sternness. "Small amounts are fine, but you're not going to drink the whole bottle." Herb, seeing his wife's attention was occupied, wisely kept his mouth shut this time.
The rest of the box contained a delightful array of candy and snacks, including a small box labeled Chocolate Frog. Nia, now focused on sweets, bit into the frog and immediately lost herself in the sugar rush.
Finally, Daisy untied the bright red ribbon and carefully unrolled the parchment. It was an astonishing six feet in length, filled with Albert's neat, flowing script. It wasn't just a letter; it was an incredibly detailed, guided tour, complete with marginal diagrams and notes cross-referencing the included photographs.
Herb took the scroll from Daisy, his eyes wide. "He truly did not spare any detail, did he? This is less a letter and more a doctoral thesis on the school."
They began reading the vivid description of the castle, their voices gradually taking on a hushed, reverent tone as Albert's words transported them.
Albert's Hogwarts Letter (Abridged Reading):
Herb began, his voice deepening with the grandeur of the setting: "The entrance to the school itself is a spectacle. After the freshmen cross the vast, black lake in tiny boats, we step out onto a pebble beach and proceed through enormous oak gates—gates that must be nearly twenty feet high—to enter the castle proper..."
Daisy continued, picturing the first-years: "And then, the Great Hall. It's so big that a hundred people could comfortably dine in it. The ceiling is the real marvel—it's enchanted to mirror the weather outside. So, if it's pouring rain, you see dark clouds and feel the cold air, but not a single drop touches you. It feels like eating outdoors, but in perfect comfort. The sheer complexity of that enchantment is staggering."
Luke interjected, pointing to a diagram Albert had sketched: "The kitchens! Ah, yes, he's found the kitchens already. He notes the entrance is not a door at all, but a single fruit painting in a corridor below the hall. You have to tickle the pear to make it open. The level of complexity in the secret mechanisms protecting these secrets is unbelievable."
Herb resumed, describing the ever-shifting nature of the upper levels: "The staircases don't just move, they play practical jokes. One moment you're aiming for the third floor, and the staircase decides to move you to the fifth. They can also vanish entirely. And the corridors are filled with ancient talking portraits, some of whom leave their frames to visit neighbors in other wings of the castle. You have to remember their routes to avoid getting lost."
Daisy read the description of the Gryffindor common room entrance, a smile playing on her lips: "The Fat Lady. She guards the entrance to our tower. She is, as expected, a portrait of a large woman who demands a changing password before she will swing open to let you in. She gets terribly cross if you wake her up in the middle of the night."
Finally, the letter led them up the winding, circular stairs to the dormitory, detailing the comfort and the simple, robust wooden furniture they shared with his three roommates. Albert wrote about the camaraderie, the late-night study sessions, and the sound of the wind rattling the windowpanes of the ancient tower.
The reading took a long, immersive twenty minutes. When Herb finally reached the conclusion—Albert's brief, fond farewell—the room was silent, the Muggle world seeming dull and flat compared to the vivid, swirling reality of Hogwarts. The long scroll lay spread across the table, an undeniable physical document confirming the unbelievable.
Nia, who had been leaning against Daisy's shoulder, absorbing every word, lifted her head. Her face was pale with astonishment, her boredom completely forgotten.
"Moving stairs... and a ceiling full of clouds... and you have to tickle a pear to get food," she whispered, her voice filled with awe. She pointed a sticky finger at a small, sketched map of the school grounds.
"I want to go too! I can't wait two years! It sounds like the most amazing place in the entire world, Dad! I want a portrait that talks to me, and I want to know all the secret passages!"
Her heartfelt declaration, the culmination of Albert's detailed, six-foot-long letter, confirmed what Daisy and Herb already knew: there was no holding back a child who had tasted the magic. The next two years would be the longest wait of Nia's life.