HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Smith,
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 1 September.
We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
…
It was in these moments of importance that Arthur found himself blaming his parents for such a generic surname.
He truly had no way to verify if he was the Smith mentioned in the letter since he knew like five other Smiths living in the area.
Even his black hair, brown eyes and simple sense of fashion was not unique.
The mention of Hogwarts in the letter led him to believe he was currently in the wizarding world.
He was starting to think all he had to look forward to would be the fall of the soviet union.
As exciting being in the magical world was, he didn’t remember much of it except the main characters involved and some sort of prophecy.
‘So I should be safe if I leave them to their own devices.’ Arthur thought to himself.
Thinking back, Arthur had never noticed anything remotely magical about himself.
As he looked back at this life the only thing suspicious was the fact that he had always managed to find the candy his Mom had hid.
But that was only because it was always right above the fridge.
It was suspicious that for all the scolding he got, she never seemed to hide it anywhere else.
He would have asked but he had always assumed that she trusted him enough to change, that line of thought would make him feel very guilty.
The guilt would fade after a good night’s sleep though.
He was starting to suspect that his mom might not have been so trusting after all.
Not getting ahead of himself he turned his focus back to the letter and looked at the second page for any piece of evidence confirming it was for him.
It only had a list of books and equipment mentioned.
He didn’t find anything helpful.
Desperately he turned to the barn owl at his bed and asked, “Is it for me?”
Arthur was surprised when it nodded.
Testing to see it it was a coincidence he asked again, “Is there any proof?” The owl stared at him with what he could only describe as disdain, which was pretty hard for an owl, and pointed its feet at the letter cover he had thrown away.
Given that an owl had flown in and delivered the letter he assumed the cover was useless.
Could owls even read the address?
Looking at the vivid expression of disdain on its face he didn’t ask the question.
He picked up the cover and read the words on it.
It described his location right down to his bedroom.
Arthur gave the owl a sheepish look and hurried down the stairs while shouting, “Mom! I’m magic.”
…
Helen and John Smith (Arthur always rolled his eyes when his father’s name was mentioned) were highly suspicious of the letter.
Their suspicious look was exactly identical to their only child’s, right down to their dark hair and brown eyes.
Given Arthur’s track record of very silly ‘pranks’ they were right to be suspicious.
“Are you bored again?” Helen asked Arthur sharply.
Arthur slumped at the question.
He didn’t really mind the sharp phrasing though.
He would also have been pretty mad if someone spoilt his favorite shows.
Being reborn before the internet existed was mind numbingly dull so he made do with anything he thought was fun.
He ate candy when he was bored, he always gave his father yesterday’s newspaper, and other things of similar nature.
The most fun activity he did by far was standing at the door and trying to guess how the shows his mother was watching ended.
He didn’t remember the shows but even a broken clock would be right twice a day.
The recent friction between them was due to him successfully predicting a juicy affair.
“Son, you have to admit this seems a little farfetched.” his dad said trying to let him down slowly.
Since he had a little bit of a boy who cried situation going on he did the only thing he could to prove himself… he fetched the owl from upstairs.
The family of three gathered around the owl and looked at it eating candy.
“Where did you get candy again?” said his mom just noticing the detail.
“Focus on the important stuff.” said Arthur trying to avoid this line of questioning.
By the looks she gave him he knew he wasn’t getting any fruit juice for breakfast tomorrow.
“What is it supposed to do?” John asked watching the bird absolutely dismantle the candy bar using only its beak.
“It understands us.” Arthur said, “Try asking it questions.”
“Where are you from?” asked John to which the owl just gave him a deadpan stare and stopped eating.
Helen mirrored the look and asked her own question, “How is he magic?”
The owl must have been pretty smart given that it started pacing around the room.
The Smiths stayed silent not wanting to disturb its thought process and watched it scurry around.
Arthur found the sight of an owl just walking around the floor pretty funny but he didn’t want to anger it so he kept silent.
The owl paced for some time before stopping and pointing at Arthur with its wing.
Arthur made sure to move around to make sure it was pointing at him.
When the wing followed him around he paused and said, “Sorry, I can’t do magic.”
Arthur was starting to suspect that the bird was not as smart as he had previously thought.
Maybe it was just responding to keywords like pointing at the letter for ‘proof’ and pointing to him for ‘magic’.
Arthur paused his thought process and tried asking the bird, “Is there any proof?”
To his surprise the bird pointed at the letter again.
Arthur snatched the letter from his dad and carefully read it again.
‘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 1 September.
We await your owl by no later than 31 July.’ It was the last line that caught his attention.
They wanted a reply.
…
Arthur held the pen while sitting at the dinner table trying to write a letter.
He really didn’t know what to write so he wrote the only words he thought would get his dilemma across to the person reading it.
Dear Professor McGonagall,
My parents don’t believe me.
Come quick.
Yours sincerely,
Arthur Smith.
Satisfied with his brimming talent visible in every part of his carefully handwritten letter, he sealed it in an envelope his father gave him and tied it to the owls’ leg.
He watched it fly away into the night and wished it reached destination safely.
He was magic and nothing could bring him down.
“No orange juice tomorrow.” said his mom from behind, also watching the owl fly away.
Arthur sighed deeply.