The Shadows of the Past

Little Quakes and Birthday Cakes

There was an old story my mother used to tell me at bedtime, about a castle on a mountain that peaked so high it went into the clouds and couldn't be seen by people on the ground. Within the castle, nothing was what it seemed. Objects could move, pictures could speak, and all manner of fascinating people lived there who could brew mystic potions and cast fantastic charms and spells. The story became conflated with other fantasies over the years; Beauty and the Beast, Snow White, The Secret Garden, even the castle on the cloud from Les Miserables. My enchanted castle was present like a specter of childhood in all of them.

I knew the castle had a name. Mom had said it many times in the years of bedtime tales. But I had forgotten it at some point, and I couldn't recall exactly when. I thought I might've forgotten it the moment that Aunt Mandi came into my room in the early hours of morning to say that mom and dad wouldn't be coming home. Or perhaps, on the day that Uncle Marvin had helped me drag my bags down the front steps of our Massachusetts home, locking the iron gate behind us.

I wished I could remember the name of that castle now.

Staring at the letter in my hand, thick parchment and ink like nothing anyone wrote with today, I was reeling with possibilities. The most likely was that this was all an elaborate prank. One of my friends from Camp had clearly thought it would be funny to send me a fake letter about a magic school for my birthday. It was probably Aimie. She knew how terrified I was of middle school and had probably decided to give me a fake acceptance to somewhere that wasn't Western Bluffs Junior High. In which case, it was a sweet and rather hilarious gesture.

But what if...

The other possibility was buzzing in the back of my head, like the ringing you get in your ears, high and faint but still loud enough to drown everything else out.

What if the letter was real?

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress

Sure enough, there was a second page that had a detailed list of all kinds of strange books.

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Standard Book of Spells, Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration? Even Aimie, who was almost as obsessed with fantasy novels as I was, couldn't have made this up.

"'We await your owl by no later than July 31st'," I repeated under my breath. That was only eight days away.

But why was I even thinking about this? Really? A magical school? And what was that business about an owl? What did that even mean? This was ridiculous. A prank...

Gripping the letter so hard it wrinkled, I took slow deliberate steps down the stairs to the kitchen. It smelled like chocolate again, and Mandi was whipping frosting in a large mixer while Marvin was cutting tomatoes and throwing them into a pot.

"Um," both of them turned to face me with looks of surprise. Oh God... how was I supposed to say this?

"Woah, Jellybean, out of the kitchen, now. Don't want to spoil your surprise, now do we?" Marvin came around the counter and made to guide me into the living room before freezing. He was staring at the letter in my hand.

"Oh dear... Amanda, darling, you'd better come see." My heart fell into my stomach. This letter was clearly a bigger deal than I had expected. Or my godparents were part of an extremely elaborate hoax...