Holidays at Home - Part One
At home, everything was different
At home, Rajani had her bed. She had her clothes and her sheets and her books. She had her piano, which she could play anytime she wanted, and which she did. She had television, blissful television. She watched East Enders and tapes of old Man. U. games. She listened to music on the radio.
At home, Rajani had her family. She had her mother's delicious breads and cookies. She had her father to read to her, his low gravely voice toning out beautiful verses from the Sri Guru Granth Sahib . She didn't have to pray alone. She celebrated with her family the Martyrdom of the Guru's sons.
At home, there were no professors, no exams, no miles of parchment. There was only paper, and pens, not quills. At home there was no quidditch. There were no moving pictures, to appearing food, no misty ghosts floating around. There was no Dumbledore and no He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
At home, there was no magic. It wasn't real, it didn't exist, and Hogwarts was just a school, like any other boarding school.
Until the second letter arrived.
Delivered by an owl.
At home, Rajani had her bed. She had her clothes and her sheets and her books. She had her piano, which she could play anytime she wanted, and which she did. She had television, blissful television. She watched East Enders and tapes of old Man. U. games. She listened to music on the radio.
At home, Rajani had her family. She had her mother's delicious breads and cookies. She had her father to read to her, his low gravely voice toning out beautiful verses from the Sri Guru Granth Sahib . She didn't have to pray alone. She celebrated with her family the Martyrdom of the Guru's sons.
At home, there were no professors, no exams, no miles of parchment. There was only paper, and pens, not quills. At home there was no quidditch. There were no moving pictures, to appearing food, no misty ghosts floating around. There was no Dumbledore and no He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
At home, there was no magic. It wasn't real, it didn't exist, and Hogwarts was just a school, like any other boarding school.
Until the second letter arrived.
Delivered by an owl.