After a moment the initial excitement fades. You realise your parents will never believe you. I mean what are you going to say? “Hey mum, dad, I’m a witch and I need you to buy me robes and magical equipment so I can go to a school to learn magic.” No, that will never work.
Your heart sinks as you think some more. You don’t know how to get all of the stuff on the list; maybe they sell parchment and quills in WhSmith’s and magic books in Waterstones. Somehow you don’t think so. Even if you did manage to get all the stuff you needed how would you get to Hogwarts? You don’t even know where it is, you’d have no money to pay for transport (or the things you needed to buy previously) and your parents were bound to notice when you didn’t turn up for dinner for a few months at a time.
Well, that’s it, you’re doomed. You’re never going to learn to be a proper witch so you may as well resign yourself to an ordinary, boring, magic free life (well isn’t this going to be a riveting story then).
A low hooting noise interrupts your thoughts.
“Shut up I’m busy being miserable here.”
But then the hooting gets louder and closer and starts to peck at your hair. It’s an owl!
What did it say on your letter again? ‘We await your owl.’
Yes! That’s it. You can go, you just need a little help from someone a bit more in the know.
“Stay there,” you say to the owl then, after thinking for a moment, chuck a ripped open packet of Jelly Babies in front of it in the hope it will like them and not fly off.
Grabbing a pen and piece of paper you hurriedly scribble a reply, explaining the situation with your parents and asking for someone to advise you as to how to go about obtaining the equipment you need and getting to the school before having the note snatched out of your hand and carried away by an impatient owl who had left gooey Jelly Babies spat out on your duvet cover. You suppose it’s an acquired taste for owls.
Make a visit to Diagon Alley (Chapter 13)