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perfectworrytitle: untitled; prompt 10: letter
fandom: Harry Potter
character: Alice Worthington (← original character)
rating: K
notes: wrote most of this awhile ago, finished it tonight. contains pretty much entirely original characters, except McGonagall. posting for![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif)
10_prompts.
Looking at the nervous little first years as they stood in line to be sorted, Alice thought back to her first year at Hogwarts. She remembered how nervous and excited she had been. Alice would never forget the day she received her letter, inviting her to come study at the finest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in all of the United Kingdom.
***
The letter had arrived the summer of the year she turned eleven, like all of the students at Hogwarts, and it had been very carefully addressed, to Ms. A. Worthington, the bedroom at the top of the stairs, and so on. Avarelle, then only eight years old, had been the one to fetch the mail. Alice might not have even known the letter was for her if she hadn't noticed the envelope on the breakfast table.
"Avarelle," she whined, "this is for me."
"How d'you know? It hasn't got your name on it." asked Avarelle, sticking her tongue out.
"It's got my bedroom on it," said Alice. "My bedroom is the one right at the top of the stairs. Yours is down the hall, closer to Mum and Dad's. Give it to me." She dove across the table, attempting to snatch the letter out of Avarelle's hands.
"Mum," whined Avarelle, "she's trying to take it from me!"
"Mum," whined Alice, "the envelope's got my bedroom on it and the letter has my name. Tell her to give it to me!"
"Avarelle, give your sister her letter," said Mrs. Worthington.
Avarelle stuck her tongue out again. Alice took the letter with a smug look on her face, having won this argument.
Alice looked down at the letter. She had been so keen on getting it away from Avarelle that she hadn't noticed that it was written on thick, yellowy parchment in emerald green ink.
"M-mum?" Alice said, after several minutes. "It says here that I've been accepted to 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.' That wasn't one of the places I applied, was was it?"
Mrs. Worthington blinked owlishly several times. "No, dear, I don't believe it was. It must be some kind of a prank."
"Yeah," said Alice. "I guess."
She threw the letter down on the table and sighed. She thought then that it would be fun to learn magic, but her mother was right, it must be a prank. Alice accepted this fact with another sigh, at least until the owl showed up.
*
"Shoo," cried Mrs. Worthington, shaking a feather duster at it. "Shoo, shoo. Don't owls usually sleep during the day? Get out of here!"
"Mum, Mum stop!" Alice leapt up from her place on the couch, where she had been contentedly reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, letter all but forgotten. "The letter said to send a reply by owl. This must be it!" She whooped for joy and bounded into the kitchen, where her letter still lay discarded on the table.
Alice rummaged around in the side drawer for a pen and her mother's good stationary. She jotted down a letter as quickly as she could using her best handwriting.
Mrs. Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, she copied this information down from the letter, Thank you for accepting me to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Not to be rude, but where would I be able to buy a wand or cauldron? I don't believe they have them at the market here.
Regards,
-Alice L. Worthington
Alice folded the letter carefully and brought it to the window where the owl was perched outside. It appeared to be giving her mother - who eyed it warily - an exasperated look. Alice timidly held out the letter, which it snatched up and flew off with, leaving Alice startled and empty handed.
"What did the letter say?" asked Mrs. Worthington.
"That I wanted to go," said Alice.
"What about King's, darling?" asked Mrs. Worthington, eyes round. Alice had applied to a number of prestigious secondary schools and her mother didn't want her throwing that away to learn magic tricks.
"But magic, Mum," said Alice. "Real live magic, look: you need a wand and a cauldron and robes and a cloak and everything."
"I suppose you need a flying broomstick, too?" asked Mrs. Worthington, rolling her eyes. She had to tell herself that the magic thing was a hoax, what else could it be? It certainly wasn't real.
"No," said Alice. She held up the second page of the letter for her mother to see. "It says here that first years aren't allowed to have broomsticks." She scoured the list again. "Oh, and Mum, it says that students can have a cat, or maybe an owl. I don't want a toad, though, they're icky." She danced around the room.
"Where do you think we can get all of these things?" asked Mrs. Worthington. She was worried enough about finding and affording a proper uniform and schoolbooks and tuition for Alice and Avarelle's secondary schooling.
"I don't know," admitted Alice, stopping mid twirl. "I asked Mrs. McGonagall in my letter. She's the one who signed this," she added, shoving the first page of the letter into her mother's face.
"Of course you did, Alice," said Mrs. Worthington. "I'm going to go have some tea, darling. Would you like some?"
"No, thank you," said Alice, and she climbed back onto the couch to continue reading her book. She listened to the familiar sounds of her mother making tea and Avarelle running around outside, excitement bursting in her chest. She could feel it growing with every second as she read until she couldn't help herself any longer. She jumped up and did a cartwheel in the middle of the living room.
"Alice!" cried her mother, "be careful, darling, or you'll break Grandma's Hummels."
"Sorry," muttered Alice. She plopped back down on the couch and glared at the little ceramic figurines on the mantel, as though it was their fault that she had gotten in trouble.
When the next letter came, it was Mrs. Wothington who responded, politely requesting to know what the hell was going on here and mentioning that she would very much like to speak with a representative of the school if McGonagall would be so kind as to give her a telephone number.
Alice kept the letters from Hogwarts, all of them written in deep green ink on thick paper. The latest one told Alice where she could find her school things, and how to get into the very secret Diagon Alley, and that she wasn't to tell anyone.
"Not even Stephen?" asked Alice. She didn't like keeping secrets from her best friend.
"Not even Stephen," repeated her mother. "Mrs. McGonagall stated very clearly that you're not to tell anyone."
"Not even Moses?"
"Fine, you can tell Moses."
Moses was a half-wild tabby cat that lived on their street. Alice lured him out from under the neighbor's porch with some leftover bacon from the next day's breakfast and scooped him up as soon as he slunk out. Moses didn't seem to mind, so long as he got to eat the promised treats. Alice sat with him in a chair in her own yard, absently petting his scruffy fur.
"Magic, Moses," he said, scratching under his chin. "And don't worry, if it's far away, I'll tell Mum and Avarelle to make sure and leave you out food every day. Or maybe I'll take you with me. We're allowed to have cats there, and it won't be a problem that Mum's allergic. Would you like that, Moses?"
Moses sniffed her hand in response, looking for more bacon. Alice sighed.
She anxiously awaited the arrival of each letter from McGonagall, who arranged to come speak to her mother on June 21st. Alice cleaned her room, then paced, then cleaned the rest of the house, then paced more. She was very nervous. What if McGonagall saw her and changed her mind about accepting her into Hogwarts? Alice hadn't even applied, and she didn't feel very magical.
Finally, June 21st came.
McGonagall stated that she would arrive at noon sharp, but Alice was up far earlier than that. At five in the morning, she rolled out of bed because she could sleep no longer. She switched on the light and helped herself to a bowl of cereal with milk while she read more of her book. Then she showered and dressed in her best dress and the least scuffy shoes she could find and sat in the living room.
For hours.
It seemed as though noon might never come as Alice watched the clock ticking. She finished her book and hadn't thought to get another one from the library, so she just started it over again. Alice liked to read books many times over and either way, it sure beat watching the seconds tick by impossibly slowly. Every now and then, Alice's eyes would dart to the clock above the mantle, just to make sure that time hadn't skipped backwards, just to be mean to her.
Finally, it was ten until noon. Alice darted down the hallway to go pee, then washed her hands, double checked that her favorite hair bow was in place and helped her mother make tea. Alice practically dragged Mrs. Worthington into the living room and stood, peeking out the curtains, waiting for McGonagall.
"I wonder what kind of car she has?" Alice asked no one in particular.
"I don't know, dearie, she didn't say."
"Please don't call me dearie in front of Mrs. McGonagall," said Alice. Her mother was about to respond when she gasped. Just as the clock began to chime noon, Mrs. McGonagall seemed to appear out of thin air, right in front of the house. "Mom," cried Alice, pushing the curtains back into place. "She's here. It's got to be her," she added, clinging to Mrs. Worthington as she went to the door, "she is wearing a cloak."
As Mrs. Worthington opened the door, Alice suddenly felt very shy and she ducked behind her mother. Up close, Mrs. McGonagall looked quite imposing: she had her hair pulled back into a severe bun and tidy square glasses perched on her nose. She pulled the simple black cloak off to reveal an equally simple black robe, though Alice noticed that the sleeves were tartan on the inside.
"Thank you for coming to speak with us," said Mrs. Worthington, taking the cloak and hanging it on one of the pegs by the door, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy. "I have ... questions, about this school of yours." She tried not to sound too suspicious or accusing, just stating her reasoning for wanting to speak with someone from Hogwarts before she sent her eldest daughter there without any idea if it was a scam run by the mafia or God only knew what else. Mrs. Worthington's imagination had a tendency to run away with her, even as an adult.
"Of course," said Mrs. McGonagall.
"Please," said Mrs. Worthington, "come sit. I've prepared tea. Would you like a cup?"
"Yes, thank you," said Mrs. McGonagall. She took the seat offered her by Mrs. Worthington.
"I made the cookies," said Alice impulsively. She regretted it almost immediately as McGonagall's full attention was directed at her for the first time. It was a little frightening. Alice hid behind the couch, ducking her head behind her mother's.
"You must be Alice," said McGonagall, kindly. Alice peeked up at her.
"Yes, Mrs. McGonagall," she said quietly. "I'm Alice. Alice Liddel Worthington. Like the book," she added, helpfully.
"Professor McGonagall."
"Yes, ma'am. Professor McGonagall," Alice repeated dutifully.
Mrs. Worthington took over the conversation from there. She asked about the location of the school (Wales, though McGonagall couldn't - or wouldn't - be more specific than that) and what was taught there (magic; specifically, Alice would be studying transmutation, potions, charms, herbology and the history of magic, until her third year when she could choose her subjects). McGonagall explained, then very calmly turned her empty teacup into tortoise. Mrs. Worthington gasped and Professor McGonagall turned it back again and invited Mrs. Worthington to pick it up; it was exactly the same as it had been before.
"It must have been an illusion," she said.
"It wasn't," said Alice. "I saw it move. It was cuter as a turtle, anyway."
"A tortoise," corrected Mrs. Worthington, vaguely.
"Alice has never done strange things?" asked McGonagall. "Unexplainable things?"
"No, I don't think so," said Mrs. Worthington.
"I have too," said Alice, suddenly. "Remember the time I got really mad at Avarelle and all of her dolls turned into slugs, and those people had to come here and fix them?"
"Oh," said Mrs. Worthington. "Yes." It was clear from her tone of voice that she would rather not remember that particular incident.
Later that night, Alice and her mother sat over another cup of tea, discussing the day. Alice decided she had her heart set on attending Hogwarts.
"It's very far away," said Mrs. Worthington.
"I know," she said. "We can get an owl, like how Professor McGonagall sent the owl to get my response, remember? She can carry mail for us every day. Besides, you wanted me to go to King's. That's a sleep away school, and I bet owls are faster than the post."
"Yes, dear. I suppose they are."
In the end, Alice was allowed to go to Hogwarts. She agreed to attend the local secondary school during her summers to keep up with her normal - that was, her Muggle - studies in things like literature and maths and French. Now, seven years later, she sat comfortably in her customary spot at the Ravenclaw table, beside her best friend Daisy Andrews and her little sister, Avarelle, watching nervous first years scurry up to the Sorting Hat.
She cheered when "Fairchild, Mary" was sorted into Ravenclaw. The little redheaded girl scrambled to the table, and shyly squeezed in across from Avarelle. Alice smiled at her, and leaned across the table to shake her hand.
"I'm Alice Worthington," she said. "Ravenclaw Prefect. Welcome to Hogwarts."
*
fandom: Harry Potter
character: Alice Worthington (← original character)
rating: K
notes: wrote most of this awhile ago, finished it tonight. contains pretty much entirely original characters, except McGonagall. posting for
10_prompts.Looking at the nervous little first years as they stood in line to be sorted, Alice thought back to her first year at Hogwarts. She remembered how nervous and excited she had been. Alice would never forget the day she received her letter, inviting her to come study at the finest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in all of the United Kingdom.
***
The letter had arrived the summer of the year she turned eleven, like all of the students at Hogwarts, and it had been very carefully addressed, to Ms. A. Worthington, the bedroom at the top of the stairs, and so on. Avarelle, then only eight years old, had been the one to fetch the mail. Alice might not have even known the letter was for her if she hadn't noticed the envelope on the breakfast table.
"Avarelle," she whined, "this is for me."
"How d'you know? It hasn't got your name on it." asked Avarelle, sticking her tongue out.
"It's got my bedroom on it," said Alice. "My bedroom is the one right at the top of the stairs. Yours is down the hall, closer to Mum and Dad's. Give it to me." She dove across the table, attempting to snatch the letter out of Avarelle's hands.
"Mum," whined Avarelle, "she's trying to take it from me!"
"Mum," whined Alice, "the envelope's got my bedroom on it and the letter has my name. Tell her to give it to me!"
"Avarelle, give your sister her letter," said Mrs. Worthington.
Avarelle stuck her tongue out again. Alice took the letter with a smug look on her face, having won this argument.
Alice looked down at the letter. She had been so keen on getting it away from Avarelle that she hadn't noticed that it was written on thick, yellowy parchment in emerald green ink.
"M-mum?" Alice said, after several minutes. "It says here that I've been accepted to 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.' That wasn't one of the places I applied, was was it?"
Mrs. Worthington blinked owlishly several times. "No, dear, I don't believe it was. It must be some kind of a prank."
"Yeah," said Alice. "I guess."
She threw the letter down on the table and sighed. She thought then that it would be fun to learn magic, but her mother was right, it must be a prank. Alice accepted this fact with another sigh, at least until the owl showed up.
*
"Shoo," cried Mrs. Worthington, shaking a feather duster at it. "Shoo, shoo. Don't owls usually sleep during the day? Get out of here!"
"Mum, Mum stop!" Alice leapt up from her place on the couch, where she had been contentedly reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, letter all but forgotten. "The letter said to send a reply by owl. This must be it!" She whooped for joy and bounded into the kitchen, where her letter still lay discarded on the table.
Alice rummaged around in the side drawer for a pen and her mother's good stationary. She jotted down a letter as quickly as she could using her best handwriting.
Mrs. Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, she copied this information down from the letter, Thank you for accepting me to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Not to be rude, but where would I be able to buy a wand or cauldron? I don't believe they have them at the market here.
Regards,
-Alice L. Worthington
Alice folded the letter carefully and brought it to the window where the owl was perched outside. It appeared to be giving her mother - who eyed it warily - an exasperated look. Alice timidly held out the letter, which it snatched up and flew off with, leaving Alice startled and empty handed.
"What did the letter say?" asked Mrs. Worthington.
"That I wanted to go," said Alice.
"What about King's, darling?" asked Mrs. Worthington, eyes round. Alice had applied to a number of prestigious secondary schools and her mother didn't want her throwing that away to learn magic tricks.
"But magic, Mum," said Alice. "Real live magic, look: you need a wand and a cauldron and robes and a cloak and everything."
"I suppose you need a flying broomstick, too?" asked Mrs. Worthington, rolling her eyes. She had to tell herself that the magic thing was a hoax, what else could it be? It certainly wasn't real.
"No," said Alice. She held up the second page of the letter for her mother to see. "It says here that first years aren't allowed to have broomsticks." She scoured the list again. "Oh, and Mum, it says that students can have a cat, or maybe an owl. I don't want a toad, though, they're icky." She danced around the room.
"Where do you think we can get all of these things?" asked Mrs. Worthington. She was worried enough about finding and affording a proper uniform and schoolbooks and tuition for Alice and Avarelle's secondary schooling.
"I don't know," admitted Alice, stopping mid twirl. "I asked Mrs. McGonagall in my letter. She's the one who signed this," she added, shoving the first page of the letter into her mother's face.
"Of course you did, Alice," said Mrs. Worthington. "I'm going to go have some tea, darling. Would you like some?"
"No, thank you," said Alice, and she climbed back onto the couch to continue reading her book. She listened to the familiar sounds of her mother making tea and Avarelle running around outside, excitement bursting in her chest. She could feel it growing with every second as she read until she couldn't help herself any longer. She jumped up and did a cartwheel in the middle of the living room.
"Alice!" cried her mother, "be careful, darling, or you'll break Grandma's Hummels."
"Sorry," muttered Alice. She plopped back down on the couch and glared at the little ceramic figurines on the mantel, as though it was their fault that she had gotten in trouble.
When the next letter came, it was Mrs. Wothington who responded, politely requesting to know what the hell was going on here and mentioning that she would very much like to speak with a representative of the school if McGonagall would be so kind as to give her a telephone number.
Alice kept the letters from Hogwarts, all of them written in deep green ink on thick paper. The latest one told Alice where she could find her school things, and how to get into the very secret Diagon Alley, and that she wasn't to tell anyone.
"Not even Stephen?" asked Alice. She didn't like keeping secrets from her best friend.
"Not even Stephen," repeated her mother. "Mrs. McGonagall stated very clearly that you're not to tell anyone."
"Not even Moses?"
"Fine, you can tell Moses."
Moses was a half-wild tabby cat that lived on their street. Alice lured him out from under the neighbor's porch with some leftover bacon from the next day's breakfast and scooped him up as soon as he slunk out. Moses didn't seem to mind, so long as he got to eat the promised treats. Alice sat with him in a chair in her own yard, absently petting his scruffy fur.
"Magic, Moses," he said, scratching under his chin. "And don't worry, if it's far away, I'll tell Mum and Avarelle to make sure and leave you out food every day. Or maybe I'll take you with me. We're allowed to have cats there, and it won't be a problem that Mum's allergic. Would you like that, Moses?"
Moses sniffed her hand in response, looking for more bacon. Alice sighed.
She anxiously awaited the arrival of each letter from McGonagall, who arranged to come speak to her mother on June 21st. Alice cleaned her room, then paced, then cleaned the rest of the house, then paced more. She was very nervous. What if McGonagall saw her and changed her mind about accepting her into Hogwarts? Alice hadn't even applied, and she didn't feel very magical.
Finally, June 21st came.
McGonagall stated that she would arrive at noon sharp, but Alice was up far earlier than that. At five in the morning, she rolled out of bed because she could sleep no longer. She switched on the light and helped herself to a bowl of cereal with milk while she read more of her book. Then she showered and dressed in her best dress and the least scuffy shoes she could find and sat in the living room.
For hours.
It seemed as though noon might never come as Alice watched the clock ticking. She finished her book and hadn't thought to get another one from the library, so she just started it over again. Alice liked to read books many times over and either way, it sure beat watching the seconds tick by impossibly slowly. Every now and then, Alice's eyes would dart to the clock above the mantle, just to make sure that time hadn't skipped backwards, just to be mean to her.
Finally, it was ten until noon. Alice darted down the hallway to go pee, then washed her hands, double checked that her favorite hair bow was in place and helped her mother make tea. Alice practically dragged Mrs. Worthington into the living room and stood, peeking out the curtains, waiting for McGonagall.
"I wonder what kind of car she has?" Alice asked no one in particular.
"I don't know, dearie, she didn't say."
"Please don't call me dearie in front of Mrs. McGonagall," said Alice. Her mother was about to respond when she gasped. Just as the clock began to chime noon, Mrs. McGonagall seemed to appear out of thin air, right in front of the house. "Mom," cried Alice, pushing the curtains back into place. "She's here. It's got to be her," she added, clinging to Mrs. Worthington as she went to the door, "she is wearing a cloak."
As Mrs. Worthington opened the door, Alice suddenly felt very shy and she ducked behind her mother. Up close, Mrs. McGonagall looked quite imposing: she had her hair pulled back into a severe bun and tidy square glasses perched on her nose. She pulled the simple black cloak off to reveal an equally simple black robe, though Alice noticed that the sleeves were tartan on the inside.
"Thank you for coming to speak with us," said Mrs. Worthington, taking the cloak and hanging it on one of the pegs by the door, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy. "I have ... questions, about this school of yours." She tried not to sound too suspicious or accusing, just stating her reasoning for wanting to speak with someone from Hogwarts before she sent her eldest daughter there without any idea if it was a scam run by the mafia or God only knew what else. Mrs. Worthington's imagination had a tendency to run away with her, even as an adult.
"Of course," said Mrs. McGonagall.
"Please," said Mrs. Worthington, "come sit. I've prepared tea. Would you like a cup?"
"Yes, thank you," said Mrs. McGonagall. She took the seat offered her by Mrs. Worthington.
"I made the cookies," said Alice impulsively. She regretted it almost immediately as McGonagall's full attention was directed at her for the first time. It was a little frightening. Alice hid behind the couch, ducking her head behind her mother's.
"You must be Alice," said McGonagall, kindly. Alice peeked up at her.
"Yes, Mrs. McGonagall," she said quietly. "I'm Alice. Alice Liddel Worthington. Like the book," she added, helpfully.
"Professor McGonagall."
"Yes, ma'am. Professor McGonagall," Alice repeated dutifully.
Mrs. Worthington took over the conversation from there. She asked about the location of the school (Wales, though McGonagall couldn't - or wouldn't - be more specific than that) and what was taught there (magic; specifically, Alice would be studying transmutation, potions, charms, herbology and the history of magic, until her third year when she could choose her subjects). McGonagall explained, then very calmly turned her empty teacup into tortoise. Mrs. Worthington gasped and Professor McGonagall turned it back again and invited Mrs. Worthington to pick it up; it was exactly the same as it had been before.
"It must have been an illusion," she said.
"It wasn't," said Alice. "I saw it move. It was cuter as a turtle, anyway."
"A tortoise," corrected Mrs. Worthington, vaguely.
"Alice has never done strange things?" asked McGonagall. "Unexplainable things?"
"No, I don't think so," said Mrs. Worthington.
"I have too," said Alice, suddenly. "Remember the time I got really mad at Avarelle and all of her dolls turned into slugs, and those people had to come here and fix them?"
"Oh," said Mrs. Worthington. "Yes." It was clear from her tone of voice that she would rather not remember that particular incident.
Later that night, Alice and her mother sat over another cup of tea, discussing the day. Alice decided she had her heart set on attending Hogwarts.
"It's very far away," said Mrs. Worthington.
"I know," she said. "We can get an owl, like how Professor McGonagall sent the owl to get my response, remember? She can carry mail for us every day. Besides, you wanted me to go to King's. That's a sleep away school, and I bet owls are faster than the post."
"Yes, dear. I suppose they are."
In the end, Alice was allowed to go to Hogwarts. She agreed to attend the local secondary school during her summers to keep up with her normal - that was, her Muggle - studies in things like literature and maths and French. Now, seven years later, she sat comfortably in her customary spot at the Ravenclaw table, beside her best friend Daisy Andrews and her little sister, Avarelle, watching nervous first years scurry up to the Sorting Hat.
She cheered when "Fairchild, Mary" was sorted into Ravenclaw. The little redheaded girl scrambled to the table, and shyly squeezed in across from Avarelle. Alice smiled at her, and leaned across the table to shake her hand.
"I'm Alice Worthington," she said. "Ravenclaw Prefect. Welcome to Hogwarts."
*
