How much time has passed?
Sometimes my awareness fades, as if I'm in a half-asleep state. I feel like I have memories that are mine, yet not mine at the same time. Knowledge I've never heard of before appears in my mind, as familiar as it is unfamiliar.
I am a spectator in the sad life of a child who is not loved by anyone.
But it's not always the child; sometimes I also see a woman crying.
A woman who, despite having things that everyone else desires fervently, feels empty and seeks a way to fill that void.
It's strange, I feel connected to both, but I am neither of them.
I can't move, and I can't even open my eyes; I should feel frustrated and helpless in my state. But what I feel is very different.
I feel safe; here, nothing can harm me.
I feel warmth, comforting and welcoming.
I feel love, vast and deep as the sea.
I feel the beating of something inside me, powerful and ancient.
I feel the desire to stay like this forever, but I also feel the desire to leave.
And Rob...
That person said something, what were his words?
I remember tears alongside a deep sadness and sorrow in his voice; did he apologize?
Why should he?
Oh, my urge to sleep is returning once more.
Rob, it's such a strange name.
I wonder if I have a name too?
My name... yes, I remember someone gave me a name.
My name is... Z Z Z...
...
Grape Mint Street, No. 13. Also known as the house with the most beautiful garden in the village of Lacock, in southern England. A two-story sky-blue house where in one of its rooms, one of its residents is waking up at this moment to welcome a very special day that will change his life from that moment on.
"Should it arrive today?" he wondered as he got out of bed and slipped his feet into his slippers. But as he went to put his right foot in, he felt something blocking his way and looked down.
A small creature with black eyes, dark fluffy and silky fur, and a characteristic platypus snout looked up and began to complain about being awakened so abruptly.
"Rada! I've told you many times not to sleep in my slippers. Didn't we make you a nice, comfortable nest in the garden?"
But the platypus started moving its claws and arms in an expressive manner while giving a response.
"Alright, alright. How about you go downstairs to see what's for breakfast?"
Rada interrupted her speech at the mention of food, she stayed still for a moment before nodding and leaving the room under the door, as if the extreme narrowness wasn't a problem for her.
The boy chuckled at his predictable platypus friend's behavior. Perhaps it was because of all the time they'd spent together, but he was the only one in the whole house who could understand what Rada was saying.
He went to the bathroom to freshen up and splash his face with cold water, after which he stared at his reflection for a moment.
"I think I'll go with brown hair today," he murmured.
With a thought, his black hair changed its color to a shade of brown and even shortened its length by a couple of inches. Since his family explained to him that he had a talent similar to something called "metamorphmagus," but different, he enjoyed making minor changes to his hair.
He saved a fortune on salon visits!
He examined his new appearance as he changed into clothes. Short and neatly styled brown hair, light brown eyes with almost imperceptible lines of light in the depths, a body of golden proportions resulting from his balanced diet and accompanying his family in their morning exercises. If he had to point out a single flaw, it was that his height was a bit shorter compared to other children his age. And although he could change that with his talent, he didn't. If he started making too many changes, perhaps the day would come when he wouldn't remember what his original appearance was like.
After putting on comfortable clothes, he descended the stairs through hallways filled with books and was greeted with a breakfast of fruits, cereals, orange juice, and a piece of dark chocolate shaped like a squirrel. Rada, who was eating her exclusive berries from a beautiful golden bowl, waved to greet him.
"Good morning, Mom," he greeted before sitting down and starting to eat leisurely.
The woman who appeared to be around thirty, with sculpted, muscular, and strong arms, short dark green hair, and dark eyes, turned around and gave him a maternal smile.
"Good morning, son. Going with brown hair today? I've always liked this option," she replied as she approached and gave him a kiss on the forehead before continuing to prepare the rest of the breakfast for the family.
Her name was Ingta, and her greatest hobbies were exercising to music, cooking, and tending to the garden. Everyone in the house ate the special diet she prepared, the reason for their excellent health and good physical condition.
They occasionally indulged in sweets, like a cake, but it was usually reserved for a special occasion, which, in their opinion, made it taste better.
"Did someone order fresh strawberries?" another woman entered the kitchen with a basket of strawberries from the garden and placed them next to Ingta.
"Good morning, Mom."
"Good morning, son," Ann returned the greeting to her son before looking at Ingta and sharing a quick kiss on the lips. "Good morning, dear."
The boy at the breakfast table couldn't help but roll his eyes at the display of affection his two mothers repeated every morning in front of him.
"How's the birthday boy feeling this morning?" she asked after sitting down next to him. Ann was half a head taller than Ingta, with long dark blue braided hair and a softer, fuller build. She worked as a lawyer, and thanks to her, money was never a problem. "Not every day you turn eleven."
"A little nervous," the boy admitted after finishing his orange juice. "Hasn't it arrived yet?" he asked as he looked out the window.
Ann's smile dimmed a bit at the question, but quickly brightened again.
"Don't worry, it's still early. Even owls need to eat before they fly," she reassured him while exchanging glances with her partner, glances of discreet concern.
Ingta and Ann were what were known as Squibs, born into a wizarding family but unable to use magic, which earned them a rather tough life. They had access to all the wonders of the magical world, but they couldn't use almost anything, and their families had long ago disowned them because of their condition. They endured three attempts to "cleanse" the family even.
Just when they were at the lowest point in their lives, their son arrived unexpectedly in the midst of a burst of green flames in the fireplace of their home.
And although they loved their son as if he were their own, they still harbored deep down the doubt as to whether the Hogwarts acceptance letter would deign to write the name of a child whose guardians were Squibs.
But if Muggle-born wizards received the letter, there shouldn't be a problem, right?
They weren't worried that the child was one of them; he had long ago proven that magic was within his reach. In fact, their property's garden was born from a magical accident when their son was younger.
One day, Ann came home devastated by losing a case she had put a lot of effort into due to a legal loophole. She sat alone in the back because she didn't want anyone to see her cry out of sheer frustration, but her son found her and saw her. To cheer her up, he made beautiful flowers grow all over the garden, with colors so vibrant and aromas so delicate that Ann couldn't help but hug him as she cried, but this time, they were tears of happiness.
She was moved by her son's love, and when Ingta found out what had happened, they decided to take care of the garden as one of their greatest treasures.
"It's here!" Ingta shouted excitedly and pointed at the window.
There, a brown owl with golden eyes was silently looking at them, with a letter in its talons sealed with wax and a very recognizable mark.
Ann was even quicker and slammed the window open, forgetting that it only opened outward and knocking the owl to the ground with a dull thud. She stood frozen, staring blankly at the unconscious owl on the lawn.
Rada jumped out of the window and took the letter before jumping back and handing it to the boy.
"Thank you, Rada," the boy stroked the platypus and read the letter carefully as his mothers hurried up behind him and read it too.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
Dear Mr. Soisen Galegold Evans Valriss Aulus
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary equipment and books. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall - Deputy Headmistress
P.S. Attached is a list of all necessary school supplies.
Everyone cheered, frightening Rada in the process and causing her to almost fall off the table, which she clung to tightly and managed to get back on.
"Do you know what this means, Ann?" Ingta asked.
"We're going shopping in Diagon Alley!" x2