The Unwanted Invitation
Daniel's POV
Sitting in my tiny room, barely larger than a broom cupboard, I was minding my own business. Another boring summer day. Mom was downstairs, probably watching some daytime soap. It was just another regular day until an owl — yes, an actual owl — decided to crash into my window. Startled, I let out a yelp that echoed through our small flat.
“Daniel! Are you okay?” Mom’s voice called up from downstairs.
“Yeah, fine! Just an owl… delivering the mail,” I muttered the last part under my breath, because who’d believe that?
The owl, looking annoyingly dignified despite its crash landing, held out a letter with a wax seal. Curious, I took the letter, and the bird flew off, probably to deliver more ridiculous messages. Opening the envelope, I found a parchment letter written in the most archaic handwriting imaginable.
---
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
Dear Mr. Park,
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
---
I read the letter again, just to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Witchcraft? Wizardry? Hogwarts? What kind of joke was this? But there it was, in fancy ink and parchment.
“Mom! MOM!” I shouted, dashing downstairs. She looked up from her show, eyebrows raised. “You need to see this.”
She took the letter from me, her eyes widening as she read. “Witchcraft? Is this some kind of prank?”
“If it is, then the prankster must be very dedicated to the art,” I replied, shaking my head. “They even got an owl involved.”
Before we could argue more about the sanity of it all, there was a loud knock at the door. Opening it, we found a stern-looking woman in strange, old-fashioned robes standing there. She had an aura of authority that made my mom’s usual calm demeanor falter.
“Good afternoon. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall,” she introduced herself, confirming my suspicions that this day was about to get a whole lot weirder. “May I come in?”
“Uh, sure,” Mom stammered, stepping aside to let her in.
We all sat down, and McGonagall wasted no time getting to the point. “Mr. Park, you have been invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You possess magical abilities, and it is imperative you receive proper education to control and hone them.”
“Magical abilities?” I scoffed. “Lady, the only magic trick I know is how to make my money disappear before the month ends.”
She didn’t laugh. Tough crowd. “You have abilities beyond the mundane, Mr. Park. Your letter of acceptance is genuine, and you will need to prepare for the upcoming school year.”
I shot a glance at my mom, who seemed as bewildered as I felt. “So, let me get this straight. You expect me to drop everything, go to some ancient school, and learn spells or whatever?”
“Yes,” McGonagall replied, unflinching. “Your education at Hogwarts is vital.”
“Right,” I muttered. “Sure, why not? Let’s add ‘wizard’ to my resume.”
Mom seemed to recover her composure, probably sensing my rising sarcasm. “Daniel, if this is real, you should at least see what it’s about.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “But how do I know this isn't just some elaborate prank? Or a hallucination? I mean, an owl delivering mail? That’s a bit too much even for me.”
McGonagall’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she remained composed. “A healthy dose of skepticism is understandable. Allow me to demonstrate.”
She stood up, pulled out a wand from her robe, and pointed it at our coffee table. With a quick, fluid motion and a muttered incantation, the table transformed into a small, intricately carved wooden dragon. It flapped its wings once before settling back into the shape of a table.
I blinked, staring at the table. “Okay, that’s… impressive. But it could still be some kind of trick.”
McGonagall, clearly sensing she needed to do more, looked around the room. Her eyes landed on a potted plant by the window. She flicked her wand again, and the plant grew, twisting and expanding until it formed a vibrant, flowering vine that wrapped around the window frame. It wasn’t just changing shape — it was alive and blooming right before my eyes.
I felt faint, my grip on reality slipping. “I… I need to sit down,” I muttered, slumping into a chair. “Did I fall and hit my head? Is this an elaborate coma dream? Am I in ‘The Matrix’?”
McGonagall nodded, satisfied. “Now that we’ve established the reality of magic, shall we discuss your preparation for Hogwarts?”
“Yeah, okay. I’m convinced. But how do I get all this stuff?” I held up the list of required books and equipment.
“I will accompany you to Diagon Alley, a hidden market where you can purchase all necessary items,” McGonagall said, sitting back down. “We should leave promptly.”
---
A few hours later, after a whirlwind trip through a brick wall into a bustling magical marketplace (because of course that’s how it works), I found myself in possession of a wand, a cauldron, and a pile of books with titles like “Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1” and “A History of Magic.” My head was spinning. This was a lot to take in for a guy who had only ever believed in cold, hard reality.
Back home, surrounded by stacks of books and strange supplies, I decided to start reading. Not because I was excited, but because I needed to understand what kind of bizarre parallel universe I’d been dragged into.
“‘A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration,’” I read aloud. “Let’s see… turning a matchstick into a needle. Yep, because that’s going to be super useful.”
Despite my sarcasm, I found myself getting drawn into the books. Curiosity, if nothing else, was driving me. As much as I wanted to dismiss this whole wizard nonsense, there was a part of me that couldn’t help but be intrigued.
---
The next few days were a blur of magical theory, spell practice, and more disbelief. “The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection” was particularly amusing. “So, let me get this straight,” I muttered, “they expect me to fend off evil wizards with a stick and some fancy words?”
My mom, bless her heart, was trying her best to be supportive despite the insanity of it all. She even helped me practice some basic spells. “Wingardium Leviosa,” I recited, trying to make a feather float. It wobbled slightly, then plopped back onto the table.
Mom gave me an encouraging smile. “You’ll get it, Daniel. It’s just like learning anything new.”
“Yeah, except this ‘new thing’ defies every law of physics I’ve ever known,” I grumbled.
As I read through “Hogwarts: A History,” I couldn’t help but think about how all of this was going to change my life. Magic was real, and apparently, I was part of this hidden world. I still didn’t fully believe it, but the more I read, the more I started to accept it.
One night, as I was poring over “Magical Drafts and Potions,” Mom came into my room. “How’s it going?” she asked, sitting on the edge of my bed.
“Well, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that people actually use things like ‘Essence of Dittany’ and ‘Powdered Bicorn Horn’ in potions,” I replied, looking up from the book. “It’s like something out of a fantasy novel.”
She smiled softly. “You’ve always had a wild imagination, Daniel. Maybe this is just another adventure for you.”
“Maybe,” I conceded. “But it’s still a lot to take in.”
She nodded, understanding. “Just remember, you don’t have to face it alone. And who knows? You might find you enjoy it.”
I sighed, closing the book. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll give it a shot. But if I see one more flying broomstick, I might just lose it.”
She laughed, ruffling my hair. “You’ll do great. Just be yourself, and everything will work out.”
---
As the days passed, I continued my crash course in all things magical. “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them” was surprisingly interesting, though I still had trouble believing in creatures like the Niffler or the Hippogriff.
Finally, the day arrived. My mom and I stood on Platform 9¾, surrounded by a sea of parents and kids, all bustling with excitement. The Hogwarts Express loomed before us, its scarlet engine gleaming in the sunlight.
“Remember, Daniel, write to me as soon as you get there,” Mom said, hugging me tightly. “I want to hear all about it.”
“I will, Mom,” I promised, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Take care, okay?”
She nodded, tears in her eyes. “You too. And don’t forget, have fun.”
I boarded the train, waving goodbye as it pulled out of the station. Finding an empty compartment, I settled in and pulled out one of the books I’d brought along, “The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.” As the train chugged along, I tried to focus on the pages, but my mind kept wandering back to everything I’d seen and learned in the past week.
Magic was real, and I was about to become a part of it. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying. I took a deep breath and tried to steady my nerves. This was my new reality, and I had to embrace it, bizarre as it was.
“Alright, Hogwarts,” I muttered to myself, “let’s see what you’ve got in store for me.”