I never thought I'd see the day when everything I once had would go down the drain and I would be stuck in a world I couldn't escape from.
Well believe it, as it happened to me.
My name is Lydia Morrison, and I lived in a city called Chesterfield, Massachusetts. I was just your normal average 12-year-old girl when I was taken from my home and sent to stay with my uncle and aunt who lived in London. I thought I was going to London, Texas, but nobody told me that I was going to London, England.
I guess this is what happens when you daydream and forget to pay attention to the geography lesson. But it's not my fault I have problems focusing in school. It's just that when I sit still in one place too long, my mind starts to wander. And when my mind starts wandering, I start imagining myself in some sort of fantasyland.In my fantasyland, I could be whatever I want, do whatever I want, and never have to put up with any ornery people who call themselves my teachers and classmates.
And when I say they're ornery, I mean they're the type of people who could care less about what I like; they would rather I be interested in what they like, such as certain books, movies, and music, the kind of stuff they liked. I honestly think they're dumb for giving up on toys, imaginary friends, and cartoons at age 12, which was how old I was.
But that's for another time.
I guess I must've done too much daydreaming because the school counselor called my parents when I was caught daydreaming in class one day. After a timely intervention consisting of parent-teacher conferences, a trip to the counselor's office, and a visit to the doctor and a therapist, it was decided that I would have to spend a year living in England with an uncle and aunt I didn't even know existed.
Well, that was just my luck.
Now instead of participating in the activities being held at my middle school, I was being shipped off to England as a last resort for my behavioral correction before I would be sent to military school or the juvenile section at a mental hospital. Mom didn't want me in a mental hospital and dad couldn't bear the thought of me being being sent to military school, so they agreed to sending me to England.
So now I am, for better or worse, away in England.
Now I'm going to be honest with you and say that I know next to nothing about my relatives, as my father's family lives in Texas and I half expected to be sent to them, despite me avoiding them whenever we go to Dallas (yes, that Dallas) every summer. I don't know any of mother's relatives, as they all stayed in England. But how and why I'm in England instead of Dallas is rather astounding, because mother wasn't supposed to move to America. (But that's none of my business.)
And guess what? I'm sure I won't fit in while I'm in England, as I'm going to stick out like a sore thumb no matter where I go.
My uncle and aunt (Jacob and Georgina Reynolds) were the kind of people who didn't stand for any nonsense. They didn't allow their children Marley and Rowan to watch TV or read certain books. They wouldn't let them play outside with the other kids for that matter. As a result of that restriction, there's over 1,000 toys all over the floor and not a single friend for them to play with those toys with.
This really can't be my life. But then it is, since I don't have any other choice. Of course, it was either I stay with them or go to military school or juvenile hall. So I'll have to grin and bear it.
Which means I have to be up at the crack of dawn doing chores (mainly picking up my cousin's toys and cleaning up their rooms, as they're not allowed to pick up their own things), and basically waiting on them hand and foot. My new room was the unwanted room in the back of the house, with a lumpy couch to sleep on and crates to store my stuff in. I was given many of their clothes, which were better off given to the Salvation Army than to a cousin who is too tall or too old for those clothes.
But I'm not complaining, not when I don't have any other choice because of my many sins of ignorance and not acting my age.
But let's not go there. Not today.
One night, after hours of doing chores that my cousins should have done themselves, I chanced to sit in my room reading one of my books when I heard an owl hooting outside my window. At first, I didn't know what to make of it because I had never seen an owl before and I wonder why that owl was hooting outside my window. I opened the window and prepared to tell that owl to go away when I noticed a piece of paper tied around its leg. Now why would someone tie a piece of paper to an owl's leg? Isn't that animal cruelty?
Yet the owl continue to hoot until I took the piece of paper from around it's leg. I opened up the piece of paper and read a very unusual letter:
"Dear Miss Lydia Morrison,
"We have noticed your arrival in England and are extending an invitation for you to attend our school, Hogwash School of Magic & Mastery..."
At first, I had to laugh as this had to be some sort of joke. I was sure that I was sent to my uncle and aunt with orders to attend a school called Lone Oak Institute. (To be honest, I'm sure it's a fancy name for a school for reality-challenged children. I'm not the least bit challenged, as it were.) But as I continued reading the letter, I began to understand that it was not a joke. As in I really am going to be sent to Hogwash.
Knowing that my uncle and aunt were not going to stand for anything of that sort, I knew I had to run away from my new home. So I packed as many things as I could into a suitcase. I had to pack the clothes I brought with me when I came to England. I also packed as many of my books as I could, as I didn't know when I would have access to the library. (I honestly missed the library at my old middle school when I was sent to England.)
Yet I left behind a few choice items, such as the ugly blue shoes I wore to middle school and the blue jean jacket with a picture of Mickey Mouse embroidered on it. I also left behind my collection of Magical Bears toys and my Disney VHS tapes. I wouldn't need those things when I got to Hogwash.
After everything was packed (or left out), I left the house with no intention to return. I already knew that running away from home was wrong, but I didn't have any other choice. I already knew I would get nothing if I complained, but sending me to live with people who would make me practically a servant to two children who should learn to do their own chores is a bit cruel.
It's no wonder stories like Cinderella are very popular nowadays.
As I walked down the street, hoping that no one would notice me and bring me back to the relatives I was beginning to despise, I chanced to see a huge bus pull up in front of me. That bus was painted and ugly neon green color. I mean, who would want to paint a bus that color? Not even the schools would paint their buses that color, so why would a neon green bus be driving around the neighborhood anyway? The driver said, "Are you going to Silver Moon Plaza?"
"No," I said. "I'm going to Hogwash. Do you know where that is?"
"Why yes I do," said the bus driver. "Let me give you a ride to The Kings Crossing. When you get there, you will want to look for Platform 9 1/8. That will lead you to the Hogwash Express."
Admittedly, I was not the type of girl who liked riding on the school bus, but I knew I didn't have a choice in this situation. I climbed up on the bus and the bus quickly took off towards the train station. I guess the driver didn't understand the concept of wearing a seatbelt or even driving at a reasonable speed limit, as the bus swerved past cars, trucks, and buses. I found myself grabbing onto a metal pole in the middle of the bus and hanging on for dear life as my suitcase slid around on the floor like in a pinball machine.
When we finally got to the train station, I found myself fainting. The next time I took a bus, I will make sure that the person has their bus driver's license first. I might be running away from home, but I'm not that irresponsible. My parents taught me better than that.
As soon as I recovered from my disastrous bus trip, I grab my suitcase and got off at the bus stop, running into the station. I needed to know where Platform 9 1/8 was so I wouldn't miss the train. I always make sure to get to places on time, and this was one of them.
Yet when I asked, most of the security guards gave me a strange look. Did these people not know that Platform 9 1/8 existed? Why would they ignore it or choose to withhold that kind of information from me? Did I not have the right to know about the place?
Well, before I could start demanding answers about why no one knew about Platform 9 1/8, I saw a man walking towards the spot between Platforms 9 and 10 and disappearing. This had to be the spot where Platform 9 1/8 was.
I stared at that spot for a long time, wondering was it worth all the trouble I would soon be in to go through that (what you call it) portal. I still don't know why I got that letter from that owl and I needed answers about why I got the letter in the first place. I hate being kept in the dark, especially when it concerns me.
"Hey you, you need to move or get out of the way!" A girl yelled at me.
"Excuse me," I said by way of greeting, "but do you know if this is Platform 9 1/8?"
"Yes it is," said the girl who was beginning to lose her patience. "Now go through it quickly; I need to hurry up and get through before the traffic starts."
I needed no second prompting, as I took my suitcase and walked through the portal as quickly as I could. As soon as I did, I opened my eyes and saw what appeared to be a completely different world.
There were people walking around dressed and elaborate costumes carrying what appeared to be magic wands. And here I am, completely out of place with me wearing a T-shirt and some jeans. I knew I stuck out like a sore thumb in this crowd, but I knew that this was too much.
"Darn, I was hoping those boys would get their butts over here," said the girl as she stood next to the train. "I can't wait for them forever."
"Don't worry, Harmonica," said a boy with crazy red hair who stood next to her. "They'll be here."
"They better be," said the girl named Harmonica. "They better be here or else."
I didn't need to stick around to see what kind of punishment the girl would give to the two boys who weren't here yet, so I decided to board the train. Unlike the Amtrak trains, which I rode on during my childhood, there was no preferred seating. The other children were quickly picking out their seats in the many cars that were part of the train. I quickly ran into what appeared to be an empty train car and set my suitcase down. I pulled out the book "God of the Eastern Earth" written by H. D. Bland and began reading.
All too soon, the train started to move. As I heard scores of kids saying goodbye to their parents, I frowned, knowing that I too have left my relatives without so much as saying goodbye to them. As in, I didn't leave them a note or anything like that. I just hoped they didn't issue a missing child report or I would be in big trouble. Believe me, that's the last thing I needed.
For the next few hours, I sat on the train as it pulled through the English countryside. I ordered snacks from what appeared to be the snack cart. I continued to observe the other kids as they started pulling off their shirts and pants and putting on what appeared to be a school uniform and long black robes.
Once again, I was like a fish out of water. I didn't have a school uniform or a robe and I wasn't sure where I was going to find either one of those items.
As I stepped off the train, I saw a large caravan of what appeared to be wagon carts lined up by the train station. Before I could approach the wagon carts, I heard a voice saying, "First years, this way!" But it sounded like, "Firs yers, dis way!"
I found myself following a group of younger children towards what appeared to be a caravan of small boats lined up at the dock. There had to be a lake nearby and it was a very large lake too.
I don't know about you, but I'm adverse to going out on a boat onto the lake. I mean, those things are so flimsy that if you make one wrong move, the boat could tip over into the water, where you could drown. Yet, to my surprise, nobody drowned even though I ended up on the smallest and flimsiest of boats, which sat deeply in the water.
As soon as the boats got to the castle, I chanced to see what appeared to be a very old woman standing on the steps waiting for us. She said, "Hello, and welcome to Hogwash School of Magic & Mastery. In a few minutes, you'll be sorted into your school houses."
At that, I heard most of the students behind me burst into chatter, with most of them saying, "I hope I don't end up in Silverin. That's the bad house."
"Well, what house do you want to go into?" I couldn't help but ask.
"Griffinheroes!" Everyone yelled.
"I had to ask," I muttered to myself as I internally asked myself what was Griffinheroes and why did the kids want to go there instead of Silverin? Was Silverin house really that bad? What was going on that the other kids would prefer to be in one house instead of the other house?
When we got inside the castle, I looked around and saw that there were four long tables with students sitting at them. Candles were floating in the air, which looked really cool but could seriously pose a fire safety hazard. A long table was at the head of the room, where the teachers were sitting.
I then saw what appeared to be a large talking hat sitting on a stool. One by one, The kids took turns sitting on the stool with the hat on their head and the hat pointed out the house where they would go. So far, it appeared to be a contest between Griffinheroes and Silverin, with a few students going to two other houses called Hopefully Forgotten and Supergeniuses. And here I was thinking that I had to be special to go to this school.
Just then, I heard my name being called. Everyone turned and looked at me for a second while an old man wearing the ugliest costume I had ever seen said, "It appears that we have the unusual honor of having an American student among us this year."
Wow. Way to put it out there, old man.
He continued, "And as such, we must figure out a place for her to go."
I went to the stool and put the hat on my head. The hat said, "You seem to be a strange one, American-born girl, but no matter. I know exactly where you're going to go."
"And where am I going?" I said to the hat. "It better not be somewhere dumb. I already have had enough of that."
"Now don't you worry," said the hat. "I have the perfect place for you, American-born girl. SILVERIN!!!"
With that everyone in the room gasped as it dawned on them that I wouldn't be going into Griffinheroes. In fact, the kids in Silverin laughed as the kids in Griffinheroes booed at them. "Oh, you must be kidding!" A man wearing dark robes and even darker hair snapped as he looked at me. "She's an American; she can't go into Silverin."
"The Sorter Hat doesn't lie, Severing," said the older woman. "It clearly says she belongs in Silverin."
"But I can't have an American student in Silverin," said the man. "It's never been done before. Plus, all the Americans students we have had over the years usually ended up in Griffinheroes."
"Maybe this time it wanted a change," said the old man. "Who knows what that hat is up to."
The man named Severing Snipe was about to reply with another man showed up, saying, "I caught two delinquent boys flying a car into the Whipping Tree."
"Oh is that so?" said Snipe. "Those boys are in big trouble!"
"Don't worry, Severing, I will deal with them," said the old woman. "You just go ahead and deal with Miss Morrison here."
"Very well then," said Snipe. To me, he said, "Come with me to Mr. Fetch's office and we will get you a spare robe. I don't know why your parents would send you to this school completely unprepared, but we'll deal with that later. Now let's go."
As I turn to follow the teacher, I realized that I was right when I said I would end up in a fantasy world I couldn't escape from. And believe it or not, this was it.
Let the games begin!
ns 15.158.61.8da2
