First leter to Grad
Dear Grad,
It occurred to me this morning that you don’t know what school I got into. I think you’d like it; I’m learning to be a witch. I did very well on all the school tests I did, but in the end I didn’t have to choose. In the middle of July I got a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A very nice young man from the Muggle Relations Office of the Ministry for Magic came and explained all about the secret wizarding world hidden beside London.
But I’m sure you know all about that. I can’t really remember the stories you used to tell, and I haven’t had the courage to ask Mum or Gram what you used talk about. I remembering telling Melissa Bryant that there had been fairies at the bottom of your garden in Kent, even if there weren’t any in hers. And I believed it because you’d told me. I haven’t seen a real fairy, yet, but I have seen Leprachauns and Pixies. We studied Pixies in our second year, but our teacher wasn’t very good and the classroom was trashed, and we didn’t learn much more than to never let them out of their cage.
I really wish I could show you some of the things we can do here. Although I’m not allowed to do magic at home. There are chocolate Frogs which really jump out of their packets, and beans that taste like anything. (Except Gram’s sausage stew, I suppose.) They also make cockroach clusters. You don’t think John Cleese maybe came to my school?
And I’m fifteen now. We have to start thinking about what we’re going to do for the rest of our lives. I tried to doing every subject I could last year, and I had keep travelling back in time to go to all my classes. Mum and Dad got really worried about how tired I was and why I didn’t write to them so much, but I just kept forgetting what day it was.
I wish I could still ask you questions, but then I think that if you were hear here I wouldn’t want to ask you questions. Scary stuff is happening here. Sometimes I forgett, because I forget that this isn’t just some dream world. Mum and Gram are doing well. Gram sold the house and moved to a little flat in Camden. Uncle Brian has twin boys who are almost seven.
I’m going to stop writing, now, but I may write again some other time.
Love you,
It occurred to me this morning that you don’t know what school I got into. I think you’d like it; I’m learning to be a witch. I did very well on all the school tests I did, but in the end I didn’t have to choose. In the middle of July I got a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A very nice young man from the Muggle Relations Office of the Ministry for Magic came and explained all about the secret wizarding world hidden beside London.
But I’m sure you know all about that. I can’t really remember the stories you used to tell, and I haven’t had the courage to ask Mum or Gram what you used talk about. I remembering telling Melissa Bryant that there had been fairies at the bottom of your garden in Kent, even if there weren’t any in hers. And I believed it because you’d told me. I haven’t seen a real fairy, yet, but I have seen Leprachauns and Pixies. We studied Pixies in our second year, but our teacher wasn’t very good and the classroom was trashed, and we didn’t learn much more than to never let them out of their cage.
I really wish I could show you some of the things we can do here. Although I’m not allowed to do magic at home. There are chocolate Frogs which really jump out of their packets, and beans that taste like anything. (Except Gram’s sausage stew, I suppose.) They also make cockroach clusters. You don’t think John Cleese maybe came to my school?
And I’m fifteen now. We have to start thinking about what we’re going to do for the rest of our lives. I tried to doing every subject I could last year, and I had keep travelling back in time to go to all my classes. Mum and Dad got really worried about how tired I was and why I didn’t write to them so much, but I just kept forgetting what day it was.
I wish I could still ask you questions, but then I think that if you were hear here I wouldn’t want to ask you questions. Scary stuff is happening here. Sometimes I forgett, because I forget that this isn’t just some dream world. Mum and Gram are doing well. Gram sold the house and moved to a little flat in Camden. Uncle Brian has twin boys who are almost seven.
I’m going to stop writing, now, but I may write again some other time.
Love you,