The morning of March 28th arrived with a frost that made the Highland heather look like it had been dipped in sugar. I didn't need an alarm. My soul felt like a vibrating string, tuned to the exact frequency of the horizon.
We were midway through breakfast—poached eggs and smoked trout—when the tell-tale tapping sounded against the glass. Not one owl, but two.
"They're here!" Alex yelled, spraying toast crumbs across the table.
Two identical owls, tawny and sleek, sat on the sill. My hands, usually so steady with a ledger, trembled as I took the heavy yellowish parchment. My name was written in emerald ink: Ms. A. Carter, The Breakfast Nook, Raven's Cottage, The Highlands.
Breaking the purple wax seal felt like breaking the final barrier between my two lives. The "dream" was no longer a story in a book I once read in a world of glass and steel. It was my reality.
"Hogwarts," I whispered, the word tasting like honey and lightning.
"Double celebration!" Adrian cheered, clapping Alex on the back. "A full house at Hogwarts this year! Addam in his third, and the twins in their first. We must head to Diagon
The Alley was more crowded than I had ever seen it. Because it was late August when we finally went for our full kits, the atmosphere was electric and slightly panicked.
We ducked into Flourish and Blotts, but the shop was a madhouse. A large banner proclaimed: GILDEROY LOCKHART SENSATIONAL SIGNING TODAY.
"Oh, he's so handsome," Mother murmured, joining a crowd of witches swooning over a man in forget-me-not blue robes with perfectly coiffed blonde hair.
I caught sight of the Weasley family nearby—a sea of red hair. Mr. Weasley was looking at a Muggle spark plug with rapturous wonder, while Mrs. Weasley was trying to flatten Harry Potter's hair as he stood awkwardly in the signing line. I watched them with a sense of profound affection. They were the heart of this world, though they didn't know the trials 1992 had in store for
The highlight, however, was Ollivander's.
Alex went first, ending up with a boisterous Larch and Dragon Heartstring wand that emitted a shower of red sparks. Then, it was my turn.
The spindly old man peered at me, his eyes like pale moons. "Ah, Miss Carter. Come forward now".
He handed me three wands. I rejected them instantly. Then, he pulled a dark, slender box from a shelf hidden in shadow. "Try this. Rowan and Phoenix Feather, 11 inches, surprisingly swishy."
As my fingers closed around the wood, a sensation of immense warmth flooded my chest. It wasn't a roar of power like Alex's; it was a hum, a steady, rhythmic pulse that felt like a heartbeat. A shower of silver sparks, like stardust, filled the dim shop.
"Rowan," Ollivander whispered. "A protective wood. No Dark wizard has ever been known to own a rowan wand. It seeks a heart of integrity."
To celebrate, Father took us to the Magical Menagerie.
Alex immediately chose a large, soot-black owl he named "Vortex," which looked as chaotic as he was. But I found myself drawn to a quiet corner of the shop. There, sitting atop a stack of cages, was a Seal-point Siamese cat with striking sapphire eyes.
"She's very picky," the shopkeeper warned. "Doesn't like most children."
I reached out my hand. The cat didn't hiss; she leaned forward and pressed her cool nose against my palm, a low, rumbling purr vibrating through her. "I'll name her Artemis," I said. She felt like a partner, an observer to match my own nature.
That night, Raven's Cottage was the picture of wizarding comfort. A massive feast of roast beef, Yorkshire puddings, and treacle tart covered the table.
Addam sat across from us, showing off his new Third-Year elective books on Ancient Runes. "The Second Years are all talking about the 'Boy Who Lived' and his adventures in the forbidden corridor," he told us, shaking his head. "But don't you worry about that. Focus on your Transfiguration."
I looked around the table—at the golden light of the candles, the purr of Artemis at my feet, and the heavy weight of my Rowan wand in my pocket.
I was no longer just a spectator. Tomorrow, I would board the train. I had my investments in the Muggle world, my protective wards at the cottage, and a study plan that would turn me into a formidable witch.
The story was moving, and for the first time, I wasn't just reading the pages-I was holding the pen.