Huntingdon, Cambridgeshire

„So you´re going to be a wizard?“

Marlon cast his little brother a venomous glare.

“Shut up, will ya?”

Darius skipped merrily alongside him, a perfectly comical contrast to Marlon´s scuffle and hunched shoulders. A strand of sand-coloured hair fell into Darius´s round face; he pushed it out with his palm, his clear blue eyes still trained on his brother as he continued, quite unfazed by Marlon´s obvious dislike of the topic, “But the letter said you would go to a magical school. Aren´t you excited?”

Marlon stopped abruptly; Darius caught on only after he had taken a couple more steps, then he turned, noticing the expression on Marlon´s face, a dark scowl and gritted teeth.

“You´re not having a heart attack right now in the middle of the street, are you?” Darius joked, but his voice trembled and it didn´t come out half as funny as intended. He squealed when Marlon´s expression changed abruptly, a dry cough escaping the older boy´s mouth; Marlon´s hand jerked up, clawing at his chest, then he bent over, the school bag sliding down towards his neck, a ragged intake of breath suggesting that the boy wasn´t getting enough air. Darius jumped to his side, clinging to Marlon´s arm, shaking it as if this were an approved technique of aiding a suffocating person; his eyes were big with fear.

“No, no, Marl! Breathe, breathe, oh God, what should I do! Marl, sit down, calm yourself, I´ll get – “

…help, he had wanted to say, when realization dawned on him that the suffocating sounds emanating from his brother´s downturned face weren´t really suffocating sounds… more like a bellow. Even more like laughter.

“You´re mean! I´m gonna tell mom!”

And Darius stormed off to do just that, leaving Marlon to drop down onto the pavement and laugh himself out. It didn´t take long for him to do so, since the recipient of his little prank was gone and with him all sense of amusement. Sober again, Marlon scrambled to his feet and dusted off his clothes. He wasn´t particularly worried about mom giving him an earful. It was all she would do, he knew. And it was worth it, if he had managed to shut Darius up about this stupid letter which was surely nothing more than a cruel, elaborate prank.


The neighbourhood was decent, though by no means posh, and the boys´ school was just a few blocks away from their house. The house itself was small, a narrow brick building inserted between two broader ones in a quiet street. Upon entering, you were confronted with the stairs that led to the bedrooms and bathroom upstairs, while on the ground floor the door to the left led into the kitchen and the corridor straight ahead to the living room. On bad nights, when his mother did not allow him to climb the stairs, Marlon slept on the sofa in the living room. He did not like that; not because the living room was small (it was still bigger than his room, which was the second biggest in the house), and neither because he was the furthest away from everyone else there (often, one of his parents stayed with him, making their bed on a mattress on the floor next to the sofa) – he just wanted his own bed, his own things around him, the familiar night sounds that surrounded him only in his own room. The living room had other sounds, not the soft murmurs he was used to hearing, but the tick-tock of the grandfather clock and the trickling of the pipes in the walls and strange creaking noises that he couldn´t place, but which couldn´t come from the floorboards, because at night, no one was walking over them.

By day, the living room was cozy enough. There was the table where they took their meals and the cabinet where their mother kept her good porcelain and the lounge with the telly. Marlon didn´t even mind the old rug and the brown, faded wallpaper; they added to the sense of being in a warm cave - a slightly shabby place, but home nonetheless.

It was the day after Marlon had played his little prank on his brother, and Darius was still angry at him. When they were summoned for tea, Darius made a point of glaring at him all through soup, while Marlon made a point of pretending not to notice. Taddeusz made a few attempts at cheering them up, but his wife sighed and shook her head to signal him that he should let them be, and so he eventually shrugged. Boys would be boys… they got on well enough most of the time, it was only natural for brothers to be at odds at times. As long as they didn´t start hitting each other, he would let them resolve their arguments on their own.

With his parents ignoring their feud and Marlon seemingly completely ignorant to his brother´s glares, Darius could finally no longer contain himself. He was always more impulsive, easier to upset, it was a miracle he had managed to keep his mouth shut for the whole of the first course at all.

“This stupid school of yours is a bag of – horsedung!” he spluttered, still enough in control of himself to swiftly change his words in mid-sentence, aware of their parents´ presence. Despite his thoughtfulness, the clanking of cutlery against plates abruptly ceased, and Katarina cried out “Darius! Watch your mouth!”

“This is no way to address your brother, young man”, Taddeusz said sternly, though as usual his sternness had a false ring to it, as if he were acting a part rather than actually meaning his words.

Marlon smiled. It was a lopsided, delighted smile, the smile of someone who has won a bet or caused someone to speak out of turn. Slowly, he slid a spoonful of onion soup into his mouth, and took his time swallowing and licking his lips before replying, lazily, “You need your little friends to realize it´s not for real?”

“They said there is no such thing as a magical school, and it has a stupid name anyway, like a pig with warts”, Darius said triumphantly, banging his little fist on the table. “Who´d want to go to a school that has a name like that?” And he snorted disdainfully, having proven his point.

“That´s enough, young man,” Taddeusz said, and at the same time Katarina said “Alright, that means no dessert for you,” and Darius started to wail about the unfairness of it all, and why Marlon got to go to a magical school and get dessert and he didn´t get anything at all – and Marlon, who was the only one not making a sound, was thus the only one who heard the doorbell ring.

He slid from his chair and made his way over to the door, signaling to whoever cared to look that he´d be right back. When he opened the door, he scrunched his eyebrows, slightly surprised. He was pretty sure that he had never seen the woman on the doorstep before.

“Hello… umm… do you want to see my parents?”

Xiomara Hooch hoped she was interrupting their dinner.  That way, they'd all be home.  And well fed. 

When the door opened to her, she smiled down at the boy.  He could have been who she was here about, but he looked too young. 

"Are you Marlon?" 

Madam Hooch was dressed in muggle clothing as all witches and wizards did when out in muggle places by order of the Statute of Secrecy.  Her muggle suit was probably out of date, but was timeless enough, she was told.  It was a rich brown suit with heavy lapels and a belted waist.  From beneath the jacket, a gold-colored shirt-color poked out.  Her short white hair was wild and spikey, and her pale green eyes were startlingly yellowish.

She was old - in her 90s - but to muggles she probably looked two decades younger. 

"I understand you've probably been receiving quite a lot of post.  May I come in?" 

She handed him a card.  It was heavy, and on the front was printed:

Madam X. Hooch
Flying

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

There was something odd about the woman. Marlon could not quite put his finger on it; he was eleven, he didn´t pay much attention to fashion and could therefore not have said what exactly was wrong with the clothes the stranger was wearing. Maybe it wasn’t the clothes so much as the hair. The woman was old, ancient, and there she was sporting an almost punk-ish hairstyle, like a rock singer or something…

Marlon remembered his manners.

“Yes ma’am, I´m Marlon. If you wait a second, I´ll get my parents.”

Despite the fact that she seemed to know his name, he could still not believe that she was here for him. Strange women did not just show up on the doorstep demanding to speak to him. They might if Marlon had been the kind of boy to kick the cane from an old woman´s hand at the bus stop, or break a window while playing a rough game of football - but Marlon was most definitely not that kind of boy. For a moment, he suspected she was confusing him with his brother - who, while he wouldn´t hurt an old woman, certainly had a history of broken windows caused by wild ball games - but then, she wouldn´t have asked expressly about him, now, would she?

Then she said the thing about the post, and Marlon´s heart skipped a beat.

It was a common enough occurrence, just like the wild racing of the heart that followed this somersault, even though he wasn´t quite as excited as his heart´s antics seemed to suggest. For a few moments, he pressed the palm of his hand to his chest, his face taking on a strained, almost annoyed expression. Then it passed, and he took the card she was holding out to him, the words on it confirming what he had begun to suspect when she revealed that she knew about the post.

There was a chance that all this hadn´t been a prank after all.

“Please, come in, Madam… umm, Hooch.” His eyebrows twitched as he cast her an insecure glance. What a strange name… but not unfitting, he had to admit.

“Who is it, Marlon?” his father called out from the living room. When Marlon led Madam Hooch into the room, his mother was already up and on her way to meet them. Katarina looked puzzled; a quick sideways glance at her husband told her that he didn´t know the woman either.

“This is Madam Hooch”, Marlon said quickly. “She´s from Hogwarts. You know, the school that kept sending the letters.”

He was about to add that Madam Hooch was apparently in charge of Flying at this Hogwarts school, but then he realized that mentioning this was probably not such a good idea, and he left it at that. The mere notion of a wizarding school was enough to stomach for his parents (and for him, too) - they would straight out panic if something as dangerous as flying was added to the equation.

Darius squealed “See, I told you it´s real!”, but everybody ignored him. Taddeusz seemed to have lost his voice; Katarina, always the more socially adept of the two, cleared her throat and gave a cautious nod by way of greeting.

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Hooch… would you like some tea? How can we be of assistance?”

So far, smooth riding! 

Xiomara had done this many times before over the last fifty years, although not nearly as often as some.  Mostly Heads of Houses, the Deputy and the Headmaster handled this sort of thing, but what with all the chaos concerning Madam Snark, and with the werewolves - well.  Hooch was happy to oblige.  And she was an old and practiced hand how this should go.

The young wizard seemed very polite but looked just too slight for what sturdy little boys out to look.  And there was an eager glimmer in his eye.  She wondered if things already were making sense to him, that something inside him had always been waiting for this...

"Yes, thanks," she responded to the offer for tea, and took a seat on a blue striped upholstered living room chair.  As she moved through the house, the muggles might note how sturdy and spry she seemed for her aged frame.  She lowered herself easily down and crossed one leg over the other.  Her dragon-leather boots now showed more than a bit of ankle from under her brown trousers.

There was Marlon here, and then his two parents.  And then another boy, called Darius, who seemed twice as excited as his, presumably, younger brother.  Mr. Kaminski wasn't saying anything, and Hooch offered him a consoling smile as if to say, 'you'll be fine, sir.'  Mrs. Kaminksi knew all about tea and its' powers for an occasion like this.

"And a bit of choloclate, if you're at it?" she added.  And old trick.

As everyone was getting settled, Hooch decided to begin.  Her hawk-like eyes narrowed in thought and then...

"There are things about the world that are not always easy to see or understand."  She hoped that was a statement they all could agree with.

"There is such a thing as magic.  And there are some of us who are born with the ability to use it.  Hogwarts School trains young witches and wizards to use magic responsibly and capably."

Then, she directed her last statement to Marlon directly, leaning forward.  "But you knew that already.  Didn't you, Marlon.  You knew about magic."

Every witch and wizard had a story to tell of how growing up was strange and that things happened to them (or because of them) that they couldn't explain other than by magic.  And by the time their letter came, most had accepted they were different, and accepted that it must be a secret forever. 

“Chocolate, certainly”, Katarina said, and for the first time since the arrival of their unexpected visitor a smile stole onto her lips.

“Darius, get the box of chocolates aunt Elspeth gave us, uh, the other day, will you?”

In truth the box of chocolates had been a gift of Taddeusz´s sister-in-law for Christmas, unopened since then because he did not eat sweets and Katarina thought it a waste to let the boys tear into it, when it was much better suited to be offered on a social occasion. Such as this, apparently. Chocolate didn´t go bad in half a year, Katarina knew, but she thought it better not to reveal that it had been sitting there since Christmas; some people were extremely picky.

The boys exchanged a look and grinned. Dinner wasn´t even over – in fact, they hadn´t started the main course yet – and they would be getting chocolate nonetheless. It helped to warm them toward the stranger. Darius zoomed off to the kitchen and returned a moment later with a big, expensive-looking white box of chocolates, which he opened and offered to Madam Hooch.

Taddeusz cleared his throat and found his voice again. He settled down on the sofa across from the old woman, a cautious expression on his face.

“I´m not sure I´m following you, Mrs. Hooch… so it was you - or your school - sending all these letters? They even came down the chimney, and Marlon kept finding them in his room, on his desk, under his covers, everywhere really… we thought of a prank.”

His tone was polite, but it was clear that he still wasn´t entirely convinced it wasn´t one.

"There is such a thing as magic.  And there are some of us who are born with the ability to use it.  Hogwarts School trains young witches and wizards to use magic responsibly and capably. But you knew that already.  Didn't you, Marlon.  You knew about magic."

Marlon flinched, slightly taken aback by the old woman addressing him directly. He had expected the adults to discuss the matter without asking his opinion; after all, this was what always happened.

“No”, he said automatically, defensively, in the same moment that Darius squealed “Yes!” Marlon grimaced; always Darius had to take centre stage, always so enthusiastic, so adorable.

“If Marlon goes to a wizarding school, I can go as well, right? When I´m older? Or do you take younger students as well?”

That was enough. Madam Hooch was here for Marlon, hadn´t Darius paid attention?

“No, you can´t go”, Marlon hissed. “The letter was only for me, remember? Just because I´ll be going there doesn´t mean you can, too.”

He was mean, he knew it; he couldn´t help it. Darius could do anything he wanted, whatever he wanted to be he could achieve just by trying hard enough, and most things fell into his lap without him having to do much at all anyway. But this, whatever it was, was something for Marlon alone - not something like the shots and the pills and the endless examinations, which were also things that Marlon had for himself, but something good for a change.

Katarina shook her head, frowning.

“What nonsense, Marlon - you know there is no such thing as magic.” And, turning to Madam Hooch, she continued, her voice considerably cooler than before: “I don´t know what exactly you aspire by telling my son such humbug, but I assure you that I don´t find that funny at all. Marlon is a very sensible child and I will not have a stranger coming here and fill his head with all sorts of…”

“Mom, please!” Marlon couldn´t believe his mother was making him out to be a baby in front of this stranger. Even if he was skeptical about the woman´s claim that magic existed, he didn´t want her to think that he might be too fragile for this school of hers… just in case it was really a wizarding school.

Taddeusz leaned forward in his chair and fixed the woman with his blue eyes, giving her a firm, but not really hostile look.

“I have to agree with my wife. I find it hard to believe your claim about a magical world… I´ll admit that the manner in which the letters for my son arrived was rather strange, but you´ll have to give us better proof than that if we´re to believe that you´re a… sorceress, witch or whatever.”

The entire family had now found their words - all the better that there was chocolate involved.  Their reactions were all very natural.  The youngest boy needed no convincing at all.  The parents were protective and skeptical.  It was all going to be very jarring from this moment forward for all of them, as a world that had been in hiding under their noses would be slowly revealed.  For Marlon's family, perhaps this was really all they'd ever see.  They were muggles.  But Marlon was a wizard and there would be much, much more for him.

It was important to go slow.  That was the best advice she'd ever received about Muggleborn visits.  Only give them the answers to their questions.  Don't flood them with an encyclopeadic saga.  One step at a time.  And so as the conversation progressed and the whole family animated with tension and confusion, Hooch remained mostly quiet.

She'd nodded her head yes, that the letters had come from her people.  She'd winked discreetly at Darius who would have hopped on back of her broom at a breath's suggestion. 

But what was not so natural about all of this is that Marlon sounded more like his parents than like his brother.  There wasn't that inkling of recognition.  Hooch might not have known how to proceed had Mr. Kaminski not asked for proof.

Hooch knew better.  She picked a chocolate and bit it half way through.  Coconut! Lovely.  And then smiled patiently at Mr. Kaminski.  Proof was very tricky.  "I could show you some magic, and I will.  But it won't convince you.  Whatever you see, you'll probably spend days trying to think of an explanation.  And I won't blame you.  But the best proof would come from Marlon."

Again, she was looking directly at Marlon.  "Our magic starts up when we're young, but we can't control it yet.  It causes strange things to happen during frightening or stressful moments.  Even little boys and girls from muggle families can be wizards and witches and show the signs as early as five or six years old.  Tell us, Marlon - does that sound at all like you?"

[January 2007]

The sky was a brilliant blue, dotted with small, friendly white clouds to the east.

It was the last day of the winter holidays, and Marlon was in a rotten mood. He sat, bundled up in several layers of clothing, on the tire swing, watching his brother hurtle down the slope and disappear in a heap of snow at the bottom of the small hill, hooting cheerfully as he scrambled back up and fumbled for the reins of the sledge. Two of Darius´s school friends were with him, the three of them out of breath from laughing and chattering and pulling the sledge back up the hill; they passed Marlon on their way up without giving him so much as a look.

He was encouraged to go outside, it wasn´t like his parents kept him inside at all times. They knew it wouldn´t do any good to separate him from real life forever. They´d sent him and Darius outside to enjoy this last day before school started again, to frolic in the snow and build a snowman or snowfort. It had been fun, too. But then Darius had happened to come about his friends, one of them pulling a sledge up the hill, and that was that. No one had explicitly forbidden Marlon to sledge; no one had told him he must not ride a rollercoaster or try bungee-jumping, either. It was a matter of course that he didn´t do any of these things. He just knew his parents would not want him to do any of it, and, knowing how even the slightest physical effort could set his heart to racing, he usually practiced anticipatory obedience. It didn´t bother him too much, not anymore…

…but it did, just a bit, seeing how much fun Darius seemed to have. Marlon´s face grew darker as the delighted shrieks of the younger boys grew louder when their sledge jumped over a mound in the snow. Just great. He was of half a mind to just leave Darius here at the park and not care about how his brother got home. He could just go home with one of his friends, then they´d call mom from their house and she could go and fetch the brat… yeah, and then she´d be annoyed with Marlon for abandoning him. That would be no good…

But maybe the sledge would break, and then they´d have to go home. Maybe it´d jump over this little mound again, but this time it wouldn´t hit the snowy ground with a soft thump and continue on, but crack and fall apart in the middle, and they´d all go flying through the air and bump their heads together, their cheerful laughter turning into cries of pain. Then Marlon would get up and pick his brother out of the heap of bodies and brush the snow off Darius´s jacket, and after a little scolding he´d dry his tears and take him home.

Marlon´s lips twitched, a half-smile stealing onto his features. Attentively, he watched as the boys arranged themselves on the sledge atop the hill, as they pushed themselves off, watched how they gathered momentum and heard their hooting and jeering. He counted the seconds until they´d hit the mound – 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 1 again (Marlon had miscalculated) – then one of the skids slid onto the mound, but the other didn´t, causing the sledge to topple over in mid-run. Because it had been so fast, it didn´t just fall over, but continued on its course downhill while turning over in the air, so that when it came crashing down it fell right onto one of the boys who had fallen off.
Marlon was on his feet before Darius´s scream hit his ears; ignoring the racing of his heart, he ran downhill and fell to his knees next to his brother.

At the hospital, they gave Darius an x-ray and confirmed that his arm was broken; by the time his plaster cast had dried, his tears had also, and he insisted on having all his friends over the very next day (he couldn´t go to school, now, could he?) so they could sign the cast.

************************************************************************************************************
[now]

Marlon looked up at the old woman with half the chocolate in hand, and his face fell shut like an iron gate.

“No,” he said curtly, dropping his gaze to the woman´s shoes, “it doesn´t sound like me at all. I can´t do magic. I´m not a wizard.”

But even as he said it, he felt a pain inside his chest as if he were about to give up the most precious thing in his possession – his collection of Spiderman comics maybe, or the really big purple crystal he had grown himself last summer – and he looked up again, this time with a mixture of longing and hope on his still half-scowling face.

“But maybe I can be one. If I can go to this school of yours. They teach people how to be wizards there, you said.”

"Oh."

Hooch wasn't expecting that. So often, as often as always, this was a moment of satisfying revelation and validation for some long-held secret or family curiosity.  But Marlon wilted and the whole family seemed to look all the more skeptical.  Even at her nine decades, Hooch was a little stumped.  But she shouldn't show that and took on a stalward kind of reassurance, just like she was telling the students to get back on their brooms.

"Nevermind about that.  You're a late bloomer.  That's all.  We don't make mistakes about this sort of thing and the invitation stands.  You'll attend Hogwarts and learn magic if that's your wish."

She moved her head to try and meet his eye-line.  "It's certainly mine."

Madam Hooch had never been tender in the way you'd expect from a grandmother, but she accomplished the same with confidence and matter-of-factedness.  Her experience lent credence to her words.

"We should probably get on with the proving shouldn't we."  She looked at the family, hoping to see some interested faces.  She reached into her suit-jacket and drew out a small, straight stick.  It had a handle and was tapered to the end.

"This is my wand - you'll have your own soon," she said to Marlon as an aside.  "If I may?"  She asked rhetorical permission for the Kaminski's but stood up without their go ahead.  She'd only just been being polite.

It was difficult to know what magic to show muggles so that they wouldn't be able to easily reproduce the same effect with their own ways, or to explain it away as a staged non-magic kind of illustion or trick.  It turned out, the simplest thing worked best.

"Levosio!" she said sternly, and whipped her wand with a precise flick of her wrist.  The sofa, the entire thing, slowly began to lift off of the carpet.  Xiomara held it there, and turned it a little to the left a little to the right, keeping it suspended, showing that she was moving it.

Marlon looked with curiosity at the wand, a small, unspectacular thing; he would have pictured it more impressive, certainly longer. He supposed that its shortness was practical, that way you could keep it in your clothes pockets, but it was a tad disappointing nonetheless.

Until Madam Hooch started doing magic.

The sofa, complete with Katarina and Darius on it, lifted up into the air and hung there, mother and son stupefied, while Marlon and his father looked on with their jaws dropping to their collarbones. As the sofa wobbled slightly to either side, Katarina gave a small shriek and dug her fingers into the upholstery, but the slant was so minimal that a slight tilting of the upper body sufficed to even it out; still, she slung her arm around a pillow as if that would steady her, or at least soften her fall.

As usual, Darius was the first to find his voice.

“Cool! Can you do the same with the carpet? If we take it outside, can you make us fly a round? What was that magic word you used – can you teach me that?”

Katarina turned towards her younger son, pressing her pillow tighter to her chest.

“Certainly not, Darius. How would we explain that to the neighbours? And please, Mrs. Hooch, my son does NOT need to learn these magic words – he´d only make everything fly around, knock things over and create utter chaos all around.”

 For a short, frightening moment Marlon thought she meant him – that he did not need to learn magic, go to this school, get a wand and be a wizard. But then, with relief, he realized she had meant Darius – though it still wasn´t clear how she saw the matter of Marlon going to a wizarding school. Especially since…

“Madam Hooch, it isn´t a – boarding school, no?”

Marlon wasn´t sure what he thought about that. Learning magic and all that sure sounded exciting, but the thought of going away to live amongst strangers made him anxious. What if he didn´t like the people there? What if they didn´t like him? Not to mention that his parents would never allow that… they might let Darius go, if this school accepted him, but not Marlon. He was too frail, they´d be afraid that people wouldn´t take care of him as they did, that his heart would fail and nobody knew what to do in a case of emergency... and he had to admit that he was afraid, too. Surely they had doctors, but they didn´t know him, didn´t know his medical record, and it stood to reason that wizard doctors used other kind of medicine than the one he was used to. What if their drugs didn´t agree with him?

It seemed to do the trick! The Kaminski's, although startled, didn't lash out or turn their confusion or skepticism into anger or fear.  That was such a lovely thing to find.  Hooch hoped that it was part of her composure and manner that helped with that, but it was more likely a trait of this fine family, who only wished to care for Marlon.

The younger brother was flipping his lid at the magic and asking a great many questions.  That was always difficult - to disappoint a muggle sibling, but she' leave that for another time and place.  Today was about Marlon.

Very slowly, Madam Hooch lowered the sofa to the floor, and ended the spell.  She put her wand away, back into her jacket pocket.  This was another very important gesture.  If it was away in its pocket, the muggles would have less reason to worry there was going to be more unexpected magic.  If she needed to do magic again, she'd take it out, but not before.

Still standing she tilted her head towards Darius.  "Sorry, lad.  I'm afraid it takes more than the incantation to cast a spell."  And then quickly, she returned her attention to Marlon.

"It is.  All of our students live in a grand castle in Scotland.  You'll live together with others from your house in cozy commonrooms, well taken care of by the Hogwarts professors.  And you'll be able to return home for holidays."

There was some tension in the room, (not in Darius, of course) that Madam Hooch couldn't quite pinpoint.  She sat down again.

"You don't need to decide today, but how are you feeling about all of this?"