Letter from a Leprechaun

Letter from a Leprechaun

Breakfast was finished in silence. John was reading the newspaper; Leanne was absently eating the fried egg that Riana had rejected, her injured hand wrapped in the checkered towel, resting in her lap. Riana was sitting, just staring at the plum ... thinking. The doorbell rang. Riana murmured, "I'll get it," and jumped up from the table, passing the rubbish bin and throwing her uneaten plum into it where it landed with a "Bang!" on the metal bottom. She slouched into the hall, ignoring the numerous baby pictures of her on the wall, and approached the mahogany door.

Grasping the cold, gold handle, Riana pulled the heavy door open and stood, face-to-face, with the daily postman. He smiled cheekily and greeted her with a "Top o' the morning." Riana simply grinned her arrogant little smile in reply.

Mr. O'Toole, a tiny, fiery-haired, green-eyed Irishman, was one of the few people that Riana liked and, although they never chatted extensively, each understood the other and kept conversation to a minimum. Usually there was a cheerful greeting, followed by a few comments about the weather, ending with a buoyant farewell, and Mr. O'Toole would continue his jaunty journey down the front walk and to the Hamilton's house next door.

However, this morning was different. Mr. O'Toole gave her his customary greeting and followed up with, "Wella, and now, who'd a-be writin' to a young chit like ya'self? Couldna be an admirer, could i'?" He chuckled, his freckled chin jiggling, at the bemused look on Riana's face and handed her an official looking envelope that was...as far as Riana could see...made of expensive-looking parchment. Mr. O'Toole grinned his wide grin, lifted his hand to his head to tip an invisible hat, gave a slight bow and bid his "lady" farewell and "g'day."

Riana smiled slightly, her gaze on the letter in her hands, stepped back slightly into the cool of her hallway and slammed the heavy door. She walked slowly back into the kitchen, turning the letter over and over as she handed the rest of the post to her mum.

John glanced up from his newspaper and, noticing the letter in Riana's hands, questioned:

"What's that, sugarplum?" His words dripped with undisguised curiosity. Leanne glanced up from the pile of mail in front of her on the table and looked at her daughter with surprise. Not many people wrote to Riana, except at Christmas or birthdays, and those letters were always from her grandmother in Wales.

"Is it from Gran, darling?" Leanne asked casually, hoping against hope that this unconventional letter was from someone as ordinary and commonplace as her own mum. Her heart sank at the tiny, negative shake of Riana's head.

"No," and then, defensively, as Leanne reached out a hand, "but it is addressed to me..."

And the letter most certainly was for Riana; the instructions could not have been clearer, it was almost as if someone was spying on the Carrington house. The directions were incredibly precise:

Ms. R. Carrington

The Pink Upstairs Bedroom

227 Marigold Lane

St. Mary's Green

Chipping Norton, Oxfordshire

"...and it's from some school..." Riana was cut off as her mother squealed happily and spouted,

"It must be from that boarding school we applied to, sweetheart! Oh, open it up, darling!"

Turning to John, she remarked, "You know, Mrs. Hamilton, that lovely lady next door, referred this school to me because her own Lillian attended there a few years ago and..." Leanne's incessant babble was cut short as Riana harshly spoke up. She was holding the, now open, envelope in one hand; the other grasped a sheet of parchment.

"No, it's not from that boarding school. It's from someplace called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Riana looked up, confusion shining in her light grey eyes. Seeing no answering expression on her parents' equally bemused countenances, she again turned her attention to the letter. "Listen, I'll read it to you:

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmistress: MINERVA MCGONAGALL

(Order of the Phoenix, International Confed. of Witches, Committee for the Preservation of Freedoms for Muggleborn Witches and Wizards)

Dear Ms. Carrington,

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.

Yours sincerely,

Penelope Clearwater

Penelope Clearwater,

Deputy Headmistress

Voice trailing off, Riana felt a surge of excitement; she quickly dug further into the envelope and pulled out a very long, second sheet of parchment. This one was a list. A very strange list with odd requirements, but it sounded quite intriguing as she quickly skimmed it with her thin, grey eyes. It read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

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 Beginners' 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

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Riana finished reading the letter and waited, eyes cast downward, for her parents' reply. When none came, she looked up, frustrated, and met the shocked, silent stares of her mum and dad. The broad smile, which she hadn't been aware she was wearing, slipped off her face and was replaced with a cold look of determination in her eyes and an arrogant set to her lips. Her pointed chin jerked up. "Do you disapprove of this, too?" she asked, using the most caustic and biting tone she could achieve as Leanne opened and shut her mouth like a goldfish.

"John," Leanne breathed, clutching her husband's left arm. "John ... I don't know what to ... John, what is this?"

With a grim look on his face, John Carrington turned to his daughter and held out his right hand. Riana hugged her letter to her chest tightly. John sighed and beckoned impatiently with his fingertips.

"Riana, let me see the letter. Please give it to me. NOW, Riana." His eyes sharpened into a flinty blue as Riana reluctantly handed over her letter and stood (like an admonished child) with her hands clasped together behind her back. However, despite her meek posture, Riana was feeling anything but humble. She felt her mind going white hot, then suddenly remembered the incident earlier in the kitchen and forced herself to remain calm.

John read the letter for a very, very long time (or else he read through the entire thing more than once), and after he was finished, looked up at Riana, his head cocked to one side...eyes bright like a bird...for about three full minutes.

Finally, when Riana could not stand the suspense any longer, she blurted out a very demanding, "So?"

"Darling, this could very well be a joke," Leanne looked at her only daughter compassionately. Then, when Riana opened her mouth as if to protest this outlook, she said, "I don't want you to get your hopes up, honey, that's all. And, you know, I think maybe it's best if you go out of the room while I talk to your father about this. All right, sweet pea?"

Riana looked frantically from her mum to her father; then her sharp chin jutted out and she gave a curt nod. She stood up from the table and left the kitchen, walking jerkily like a robot. Once outside the sunny cheerfulness of the kitchen, Riana's burning, evil feelings came back, and she had to calm herself again as she walked through the hall and sat down on the plush velvet and mahogany sofa placed in the foyer, her eyes staring straight ahead...still and grey as fogged glass.

*

After a long while...it must have been thirty or forty-five minutes at least...Riana heard her mum call from the kitchen. She shook her head to clear it from a stupor and rose lightly from the sofa. Her bird-like bones creaked as she walked stiffly down the hallway and entered the kitchen. Both parents were in the same positions they had been when she'd left. Crossing to the table, Riana stood and waited for her parents' decision, which was quick to come.

Sighing, John Carrington straightened his head and looked down his nose at his daughter. "I'm a pastor," he stated, "I don't condone witchcraft. This letter," he said, tapping the artifact in question on the table, bending the corner of the parchment, "seems to be legitimate, it is extremely official-looking, but there is no possible way that such a place could exist."

Looking once more at Riana balefully, John picked up his newspaper, because as far as he was concerned, that was the end of the matter. Riana looked up at her father in stark amazement; she could not believe that her father, who was a relatively lenient reverend compared to other worship leaders, would dismiss this fascinating letter so quickly.

"That's it? But, Dad, you can't mean that this is the end of all discussion about my school!"

Leanne looked toward her only child with doe-like eyes, full of reproach and a strange sprinkling of sadness, "It isn't your school, dear, and we forbid you to learn the art of witchcraft; your father...and I quite agree with him...thinks it's best not to put yourself in tempting situations." Leanne nodded sagely as she watched Riana, whose mouth was hanging open, and then nodded again, tilting her head forward to look at the hands resting in her lap.

Riana snapped her jaw shut, sucked in her sunken cheeks, jumped up from the table (knocking over her chair in the process), and stormed out of the room.

I know I'm ungrateful, Riana fumed as she stomped up the stairs to her sickeningly cheerful bedroom, but they don't realize how horrible it is for me here. There is nobody at school the least bit like me; there are no people who I care about there, they're all much too stupid. She walked to her door, wrenched it open, stalked through and slammed the pink monstrosity shut with great vigor.

Flinging her lithe body onto her bed, Riana gave a low growl and grabbed her pillow stuffing her face into it, muffling her anguished, desperate sobs as she cried bitterly. She twisted the pillowcase, feeling the feathers moving around inside.

I will go to this school, if it exists, and they can't stop me. I'm nearly grown up, now, and I won't let them control me!

~~It is hard when you're eleven, not to imagine that you know everything.~~

With this momentous decision made, Riana's sudden outburst of tears abated quickly, and she sprang up from the bed and walked grimly to her bedroom door. For the second time that day, she opened it and, setting her jaw firmly, proceeded down the hall to the stairwell, pausing at the top. The dimly-lit, miniature chandelier above her head flickered in spurts of yellow light as she gathered her courage, took a deep breath, and put one foot on the top step.