Chapter 2
1 July, 1989
Eleven year-old Kate Lewis sits on the edge of her bed, rereading the first piece of mail addressed to her that was not a birthday card from Isabelle, her cousin in New York.
To: Katherine Isabelle Lewis
Dear Katherine,
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
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
The letter had been delivered by Albus Dumbledore, an old man with a long white beard and eyes that conveyed centuries of wisdom. He calmly explained that Kate had a natural ability for magic which could be fostered at Hogwarts. He clearly recognized the hesitance and confusion within Kate’s parents, inquiring if anything had occurred that was abnormal, unexplainably caused while Kate was upset, but across the room. Headmaster Dumbledore explained that this was a clear indicator of an untrained witch or wizard… he asserted that these episodes could get more dangerous over time if no one was able to intervene and provide means to learn control. Her mum flinched, still seeming skeptical, but there had been a few incidents that made Kate suspect she did not belong in the world the way her parents and younger brother did.
Once, 3 year old Max was playing with a toy phone and the noise was driving Kate mad. She had unsuccessfully tried to get his attention fixed on a stuffed rabbit. Her dad was trying to teach her the rules of chess and she could not focus because the small plastic box kept beeping over and over. Before she could blink, Max’s phone was smoking! Their mother deemed it a hazard and contemplated filing a suit so this dangerous product could be recalled. Kate stayed silent, not disputing that the only logical explanation was a design flaw that could have hurt poor Max. Something inside of her knew that the explanation was not logical, though… she had done it. She didn’t know how– she was sat a few feet away when it all happened, but she could feel a dormant element waking her up from the sweet dream that she was normal.
As she reads, the dream, which had been slowly dissolving, shatters into the glass pieces of the pitcher she had broken when her parents were arguing about whether this was a joke or an actual option for her future.
“Stephen, you cannot be serious!” Her mother exclaimed. Kate sat at the center of the kitchen table with Max on her lap, staring straight ahead as they shouted at each other from opposite sides of the counter.
“I’m not saying we pack a suitcase tonight, but you must admit that this could explain a few oddities.” Her dad had always been a reasonable man, sporting a furrowed brow and thoughtful stare, as if he was carefully considering every possibility. Although this had clearly spun his world on his axis, he would have been remiss not to at least acknowledge the letter’s place in his daughter’s life.
“My girl is not a witch.” Kate flinched at the unmistakable disgust in her tone. She felt a tear fall down her cheek.
“Madeline.” Her dad said sternly.
“She can’t be!” Her mother started crying, then. Wailing about how Kate’s grandparents would disown them, how she could not have such chaos in her home, how she could never be proud of someone who was a danger to their family’s well-being.
“Stop!” Kate begged, full on hysterical.
“Kate… calm down, it’s alright dear.” Her father faced her. The tone of his voice was meant to placate her, but he sounded so cautious. Was he afraid of her?
“Stephen, it is not alright!” Her mother began another rampage, her father loudly contradicted each point she made, Kate pleaded for both of them to sit down and stop yelling at each other, Max started having a tantrum and pulling on Kate’s hair. Everything grew so loud, and Kate waited for the pinnacle of chaos that would let her family go back to laughing over her brother’s pronunciation of his r’s. It just kept going and Kate thought she might explode… then she heard a crack.
Her mother’s favorite pitcher shattered, water pouring down the counter. Instead of remarking on how this product had shabby workmanship, Kate’s parents stared at her with such accusation in their eyes.
Her mother fainted.
Her father took Max from her lap.
They would leave to buy her supplies in two weeks.