A/N: YAY! I've been really wanting to write a potterlock for while now. And to the people who read my Transferred teenlock story, I realise I said I would finish it first before I wrote anything else, and I'm really sorrry (kinda), but I couldn't wait. It kept on nagging at my mind all the time, like 'write me, write me', so Transferred will be on hold for a little bit. :P
Hope you find this enjoyable to read.
THIS IS A PROLOGUE
"You're a wizard."
The words echoed inside John's head.
He could not stop thinking about that sentence, spoken a short, stout, and very odd woman, dressed in yellow and green robes, a few days previously.
Now, that had been a very strange day.
It all began when John was awoken, by a tapping on his bedroom window. He was a very light sleeper and to his annoyance, it easily woke him up. He looked for the source of the noise, to be surprised to see and owl, of all things.
The owl continued it's insistent pecking at the glass, and John confused and bleary from just being woken up, just stared. The owl became exasperated, which he wasn't even sure was possible, and began peck harder.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he said slurred. Wait, why was he talking to it? It couldn't understand him. It was a bloody owl. Even more importantly, why was there an owl at his window in the first place?
He stood from his bed and walked slowly to the window, and then very cautiously he opened it, for the owl to come inside. The bird swopped in, and rested upon his desk, giving him a glare, which looked as if he was saying 'it's about time', but owls did not give glares, so John must be mistaken. Wait a moment, he was pretty sure they didn't deliver letter's either.
The bird dropped a heavy, stationary envelope, on the desk, which John had only then noticed was ever in its beak. It gave him an expectant look.
"Uhhh, thank you?" he tried.
The owl did not look satisfied and gave him a small, and quite painful peck on the arm, before flying out through the window.
"I said thank you!" John called after it annoyed. Wait, no, owls couldn't speak English. What was he doing? He shook his head.
He stepped away from the window and looked towards his desk with the letter on it.
He carefully picked it off of the table and examined it. It was lighter than it looked and made of very old looking parchment, crisp and splotched with yellow and brown, like the way you made it with teabags, but it was clearly real, gone that way from age. It was sealed with a wax stamp; he'd never actually gotten a letter with a wax stamp on it before. Impregnated in the wax appeared to be some kind of seal, that read Hogwarts, with a strange combinations of animals, a large letter 'H' on it and some words he didn't understand. He turned it around and read the addressing. It said 'Mr. John Watson, Bedroom at the Top of the Stairs, 174 Hillside Crescent, Cheshunt, United Kingdom'.
Well, it was meant for him then.
He, as gently as he could, without breaking the wax, he tore open the envelope.
He pulled out a letter, made from the same old parchment, and began to read.
Dear Mr. Watson,
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 September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
He moved on to the next page.
of WHICHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
First-year students will require:
sets of plain work robes (black)
plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)
by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi
by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection
by Quentin Trimble
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.
It was definitely the strangest letter John had ever received.
It must have been a joke, he laughed (a bit forced and nervous) and threw the letter in the bin. He felt a pang of guilt at binning it, but seriously, it had to be some elaborate prank, he would be completely bonkers to think anything else. It was a very elaborate prank though. Who would train an owl just to send a letter? Could you even train an owl? And it was a very strange owl as well. It seemed almost human, the way it looked at him. He shook his head. He was being silly, of course someone was just playing with him, even if he couldn't think of one person who would.
He did not mention the letter to his mum or his sister. No, that would just be awkward and lead to questions he would not be able to answer.
He sat at the kitchen table, spooning large bites of porridge into his mouth, when the doorbell rang.
He looked up as his mother walked to the door, but returned to his porridge. It was probably just a neighbor or one of those advertisement blokes.
He heard his mother open the door, and give a small, involuntary yelp of surprise.
"Oh… Hello, can I help you?" his mother said in not her usually polite voice, but in a peculiar, high one.
"Hello! I am here to talk to you and John," said a squeaky, but very friendly sounding woman, "Can I come in?"
"Oh, of course," his mother said still unsure.
A short, large, but very warm woman suddenly entered the kitchen. When John first saw her, he nearly choked on his breakfast.
She was wearing what only could be described as robes or a cloak, in bright yellow and green, pointed purple shoes, and held a very peculiar handbag. Her hair was grey and short, pinned smoothly up in many curls, with a hat that looked as if it was made out of some kind of plant, but certainly not one John had ever seen.
Her face lit up as her eyes landed on John and she excitedly waddled towards him and held out a hand.
"Professor Sprout," she grinned, "Hello John."
John was still coughing a bit but managed, "Uh, yes hello," he swallowed down his porridge and cleared his throat, "Sorry, but how do you know my name?"
"Oh, I know a lot about you John Watson," her smile widened and she winked.
His mother joined them, "Sorry, but I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."
"Oh of course," she turned to John's mother and held her hand out once more, "Professor Sprout, of Hogwarts School."
John had tried another spoonful, but at hearing this, spat it out.
"What?" he exclaimed.
"Yes John, I am here, representing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I assume you have already received your letter, yes?"
John's mother gaped at her, as if she'd just said, well actually what she'd just said exactly.
"Sorry?" she spluttered.
"Oh, my dear. Mrs. Watson, I believe you might want to sit down."
Professor Sprout explained everything, and yes it took hours of talking and trying to convince them, and even a bit of magic. John's mother might have kicked her out of the house, but she sounded so serious, and she was so kind. Also, bizarrely, something rang true in her words.
She wanted John to come to a school that she worked for, where they studied magic.
She told them of the wizarding world and how John apparently was something called 'a muggle born wizard', she then proceeded to explain what a muggle was.
This school she came from, besides being for wizards, sounded excellent too.
John mostly sat frozen in shock the whole time, but listened intently.
John had always been a bit different. He was very social and likable, and had friends, but he always felt different. He sometimes did things he couldn't understand, that none of the other kids could do. And even though Professor Sprout sounded like a complete nutter saying all these things, John knew inside that it must be true, it just felt… right. Besides, no one would take some joke this far.
Professor Sprout preformed some, supposedly very simple, magic, but he thought it was amazing. She went to a vase, resting on the fireplace mantel, and made the flower in it, begin to rot and die in seconds, right in front of there eyes, then just with a flick of her stick, or as she called it, her wand, and the process reversed and the flower went back to it's healthy self. His mother had a small panic attack.
"You're a wizard, John, and we'd like you to come to Hogwarts to learn magic."
He paused, "Yes."
She smiled and he gave her one in return.
"Well then, the Hogwarts Express leaves from King's Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters, on September 1st, eleven o'clock sharp. I'll see you in 1st year Herbology, in a month." She then disappeared into thin air with a CRACK.
"Wait, there's not any platform nine and three-quarters a King's Cross Station!" he called after her, but of course it was too late. Well, he didn't think wizards or magic existed before either, so it was probably just another one of their secrets. He would figure it out.
John's mother slowly turned to him, and weakly said, "Did that just happen?"
"I believe so."
A/N: Next chapter soon, hopefully, I think... All the fault goes towards my school if it takes a while. :P
MERCI BEAUCOUP FOR SUPPORT AND REVIEWS AND ALL THAT JAZZ. :D