Yesterday had been the end of the school year, which meant I was finally, gloriously free. Well, almost free - there was still the matter of the creepy owl that had been staring at me through my window all night.
Yes, the same one that had knocked me over yesterday. It just sat there on the branch outside, watching me with those unnaturally large eyes. Every now and then it would turn its head at impossible angles, as if trying to figure out the best way to haunt my dreams.
I decided to just get it over with and write my reply to Hogwarts. Walking over to my desk, I grabbed my quill - you heard that right, I had a fucking quill. Mum had insisted I practice with one, saying I'd need to get used to it for school. Personally, I thought it was rather fancy but hey it made me look cool so potato potato.
I grabbed a piece of parchment (another of Mum's insistences) and placed it at an uphill slant on the desk, just like she'd shown me. I dipped the quill into the ink with what I hoped was suitable gravitas and began to write.
Dear Mrs McGonagall,
I received your letter and I would be most glad
I dripped my quill into the ink again.
to attend Hogwarts School of Magic and Wizardry just like my mother did.
And again.
Until we meet in the sorting ceremony.
And one more time.
Yours sincerely,
Felix Serendipity
I stared at my handiwork. The letter looked beautiful and proper, I was quite proud of myself especially since the ink and gravity made writing wording hard as shit. I blew lightly on the ink before rolling up the parchment and tied it with a ribbon I found in one of my drawers. Then came the fun part - convincing the demon owl to actually take it.
"Hey owl, come here, come here!" I called out, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I felt.
The owl stared back at me, unimpressed, before spinning its head a full 360 degrees. Show-off.
"Cool trick. Now come here, please?" I coaxed, attempting to sound more diplomatic.
"Hoo," it replied with what I could only interpret as owl for "make me."
"Come here, little owl. Come here," I sang in my sweetest voice, like I was calling a puppy. The owl responded by hopping across the branch in what I can only describe as a mocking dance, bobbing its head in ways that definitely weren't natural.
"Right, that's it. Come here, or I will wet your feathers. Let's see how you like that," I threatened, finally losing my patience.
That did the trick. The owl immediately flew to my window sill, looking somehow both offended and impressed.
"Are you just a masochistic owl or what? Why do you only react to threats?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Hoo," it responded with what seemed like smug satisfaction.
"Well, whatever works for you, I guess," I muttered, shaking my head.
I carefully placed the letter in its talons, half expecting it to drop it just to spite me. But no, it took off with surprising grace, though I could have sworn it gave me the owl equivalent of a middle finger as it flew away.
I opened my door to find Mum waiting outside, her brown hair looking like the Tasmanian devil from the Looney Tunes had gone buck wild on her head. She was grinning at me, her golden eyes - the same shade as mine - almost glowing with excitement.
"Send it?" she asked eagerly, practically bouncing on her toes.
"Don't you know that already?" I replied with a smirk.
"Of course I do, I'm the best diviner in the Isles," she declared proudly, puffing up her chest.
"Well then, I'm gonna meet Louise in the park. I have to have a talk with her," I announced, heading for the stairs.
"Remember Felix, no wizard talk to Muggles!" she called after me in her warning voice.
"I know, Mum, I know. Seriously, we've had this talk over two dozen times already," I groaned, rolling my eyes.
"And we'll have it two dozen more. I'm your mother - it's my job to bother you," she proclaimed with evident satisfaction.
"Isn't it caring for me and loving me?" I shot back over my shoulder.
"That too, but mainly it's to bother and embarrass you. You'll see when you bring a girl home... you'll all see," she said with exaggerated menace, wiggling her eyebrows.
"Mum, you're talking like a villain again," I pointed out with a laugh.
"Didn't you have to go to the park? Go already, you scamp," she shooed me away, grinning from ear to ear.
I laughed and rushed down the remaining stairs, quickly putting on my shoes. But just as freedom was within reach-
"Felix, grab your breakfast, it's on the table!" Dad called out from the kitchen.
"What is it?" I yelled back.
"Croque Monsieur!" he announced proudly.
"Dad, you already speak French, you don't have to cook it as well!" I complained, though I was already reaching for the wrapped breakfast.
"Talking about French, we need to finish your lessons before you go to Hogwarts," he reminded me with determined enthusiasm.
"Sorry Dad, I'm already leaving, what was that?" I called back innocently, already opening the door with breakfast wrapped in my hand.
"I said-" he began again.
"Sorry Dad, I'm already out!" I interrupted cheerfully, closing the door behind me.
With those final words, I stepped into the morning air. As I walked down the street, I spotted a perfectly kickable rock sitting in the middle of the pavement. Now this - this was destiny.
I approached the rock with the reverence it deserved. This wasn't just any rock; this was The Rock, the chosen one, the rock that would accompany me on my journey to the park. I gave it an experimental kick. Perfect - not too light, not too heavy. This rock understood me.
We began our journey together, the rock and I. Kick, walk, kick, walk. We developed a rhythm, a partnership. I started imagining a little rock family waiting for it at home, worried about where it had gone. Maybe it had little pebble children. Maybe it was on its way to an important rock business meeting. Maybe-
I missed.
The rock skittered off to the side, rolling into a drain with a mocking little plinking sound.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the drain. The rules were clear - you couldn't go back for a rock once you'd missed it. That was just the way of things. But this hadn't been just any rock. This had been The Rock. We'd had something special.
"Goodbye, rock," I whispered solemnly to my fallen companion. "You will be missed. I hope your pebbles understand why you never came home."
A passing elderly woman gave me a concerned look and hurried to the other side of the street. I couldn't blame her - I was, after all, holding a funeral for a rock at nine in the morning.
With a heavy heart, I continued my journey to the park, albeit rockless. I had more pressing matters to attend to anyway - like figuring out how to tell my best friend I was leaving for a magical school without actually telling her it was magical.
I already had something else in mind, a prepared speech my mother had made for me just in case I did get my magic abilities.
Still, I couldn't help but glance back at the drain one last time. Somewhere in the sewers of London, a rock was having an adventure. I hoped it would think of me sometimes, as I would think of it. We would always have those thirty seconds together.
"Oh look another rock."
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