Running to a Magical Land

Ever since they'd died, it had been my brother, Tom and I. To start with, everything was alright but as the months passed, everything went downhill. Tom acted as if something had possessed him and strange things kept happening to me. Magical things. Magical things I couldn't explain, I'd learnt to except that these things were happening but the powers were growing stronger.


3. I'm a Witch?

Chapter 3 – I’m a Witch?

            “Where are we going?” I asked the bearded man.

            “To yer house.” He replied, eyes fixed on the road.

            “P-pardon?” I managed to get out. I thought I was finally getting away from Tom. This was my one chance of escape and this man took me, only to return me. He must’ve sensed my confusion because he muttered something or another which I couldn’t make out.

            “I’m takin’ you to yer ‘ouse so you can get yer stuff and we can go to Diagon Alley to get yer stuff fer ‘Ogwarts.” He added.

            “Diagon – what now?” I asked, confused. I looked at him for answers, but he just stared at the clouds ahead, as if there were actually a road.

            “We don’t have much time ‘fer yer brother gets ‘ome. Hold on, we’re going down.” He lifted his head a little and the hair that wasn’t tucked under the goggles flew everywhere. We landed outside my house with a thud and, as soon as the man opened the front door, I ran upstairs to my room. The man ducked through the front door and waited at the bottom of the stairs, with a pick umbrella sticking out of his left pocket.

            “Only get yer essentials, everything else we can get at Diagon Alley.” He said before shutting the front door with a nod of his head.

            Amazed, all I managed to say is, “Okay.” I pulled a small suitcase from under my bed and threw a few items of clothing in, not bothering to fold them. Sitting on top of my suitcase in order for it to close I hope that this isn’t a dream. Both the zips touch and the suitcase is packed with stuff that I may or may not need. Hauling the case off my bed, I open my bedroom door and walk downstairs with my suitcase plodding behind me.

            “Ready.” I say, remembering this is what I said about an hour earlier.

            “Good. I’m Hagrid, by the way.” The man said. “And,” He starts. “Yer a witch, Evie.”

            “I’m a witch?” I repeated. I can feel my legs buckling beneath me as the information sinks in. I’m a witch. Witches were always burnt at the stake.

            “O’ course, you knew that anyway, right? You got yer letter?” He asked, searching himself for something he appeared to have lost.

            “No,” I said. “Was I supposed to get a letter?”

            “Eleven.” He said. “Yer eleven?”

            “Eleven. Eleven today.” I said bluntly, remembering it was my birthday.

            “’Ere yer go then, Evie.” He said as he handed me a crumpled letter. I gratefully took the letter and read the green handwriting, on the envelope.

Miss Evie Riddle

The First Door to the Right

Willow Cottage



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