Unsurprisingly, I was eager to go to Hogwarts–Magic! How could I not? It was only every child’s dream, ever!–but my parents, my mother in particular, were not impressed by my reasoning. Thankfully, they found Professor Flitwick’s arguments convincing enough, and it probably helped that I offered to continue my non-magical schooling via letters and during the summer. Elective home education would be easy enough: my father was a secondary school teacher and, given my memories, I had already established myself as a rather intelligent if indifferent student.
It wasn’t that I doubted Hogwarts, but I was hesitant to put all my eggs in one basket. Considering I was a muggleborn and how much prejudice I would be going up against, there was a possibility that my Hogwarts education would be the only time I’d experience the magical world. After I graduated, I might very well have to come back to the normal world. It was a sobering thought, and yet, motivating. If all I had was seven years of magic, then I was going to make the most of it. And, really? Seven years of magic was more than I had before.
Professor Flitwick’s visit had taken up a large part of the morning, so much so that my parents invited him to have lunch with us. But he reluctantly refused, and thanked them politely, because he still had two more letters to deliver. I tried not to let the disappointment show overly much in my expression, but I must not have done a very good job, because my parents and the professor chuckled.
“We’ll be seeing enough of each other at school,” Flitwick reassured, “Having lunch with a wizard now might seem interesting, but soon enough you’ll be one too.” And with that statement bolstering my mood, he left.
My enthusiasm to go to Hogwarts didn’t wane at all during the remaining months of summer, despite having to already live up to my promise by beginning my home education curriculum. My parents were both happy and relieved at this, I had never been one for passion and to them it might have seemed problematic that their child never got excited by anything. They were supportive. And if their preparations and advice were more fitting to give a young adult going to university, instead of a child going to boarding school, none of us remarked on it.
Soon enough it was September, and with the arrival of autumn came the highly anticipated Diagon Alley trip for school supplies. School supplies. Loving book was one thing, but school supplies? Magic was truly amazing, if it could get me so excited about that.
All the muggleborns of my year were instructed to meet outside the Leaky Cauldron with our parents–it was a little funny that all of adults were unable to see it, while all the kids could–until Professor McGonagall arrived to lead the group into the alley proper. There were maybe fifteen of us, and in the casual introductions and chatter I didn’t recognize anyone’s name. Which made sense, the series had been mostly from Harry’s point of view and he probably didn’t know all the names of the people in his year much less the class two years above him. Regardless of if they were named characters, they were still people, still children about to embark on a magical adventure–just like me. Solidarity was a big factor in making friends.
The day was hectic with McGonagall herding the dazzled students and parents throughout Diagon Alley for all of the required materials, so while I certainly became friendly with my future yearmates I wouldn’t say I befriended them. Some of the other children did just seem to click, but not all, so I didn’t feel too bad about it when my father and I got home. And I was still amazed from the experience of being in the magical world that I didn’t get caught up on such a small matter–I could make friends later, there would be time.
A/N: I guess the next “chapter” will be either the Hogwarts Express or the school itself. I’m surprised I’ve written this much, actually.