❝ My brain and this world don't fit each-other. ❞ - G. K. Chesterton

"Mom, please. I was not in the mood to take Puppy for a walk today."

The only response I got from mom was a cold glare. But she didn't have to throw harsh words and rebukes my way to make me feel like a faulty kid, because that spark of accusation in her eyes spoke volumes.

To say that she was pissed when she came back from work that evening, and found Puppy howling in his doghouse in Aunt Camilla's front yard would be an understatement.

"What did you do, then?" she demanded, finally speaking. "Wasted your time with that ridiculous magic trick, didn't you?"

It was as though I'd just been punched in the face. Mom knew I was sensitive when it came to this topic, but that didn't stop her from constantly reminding me that such a thing as magic didn't exist. Mom was a pragmatic person, quite down-to-earth if you asked me, which I disliked. Maybe working as a receptionist eight hours a day brought out that aspect of her personality more, but to an extent, I didn't blame her for not wanting me to embrace my abilities like a normal quirk.

Nothing about having magical powers was 'normal.' They had made me the object of fear and ridicule, both in school and in my neighborhood. How many accidents had I gotten involved in throughout the years? How many times had mom chosen not to take me with her when she went to the mall, out of fear I'd lose control of my powers and terrify everyone around? Not only was I the freaky kid in town, she was the 'mother of the freaky kid' too. Mom was at the receiving end of everyone's judgment as much as I was. Time and time again, I'd felt guilty for being the cause of that, and not knowing what to do to stop it. To make life easier for her.

But that didn't mean her disapproval of my magic didn't sting.

If only she was a witch. Then, her reaction to magic would be nothing like this. We'd actually use it as an everyday tool; magic would help us wash that pile of dirty dishes in the sink in a matter of seconds or mop the floor effortlessly without shedding a drop of sweat. Our lives would be much simpler and my powers wouldn't be viewed as a danger to society. We wouldn't have to live in a community of muggles that treated us like freaks, either.

How would she handle it, if I told her about the letter? When I told her, more like. It was all a matter of time. I couldn't keep her in the dark forever, but at the same time, I didn't want to be the one to break the news to her.

The sudden chime of the doorbell interrupted my train of thoughts.

"Great," mom muttered. She turned to me, her brows so narrowed they practically touched. "I bet it's aunt Camilla. What are you going to tell her, young lady?"

I buried my face in both hands as mom hastened to open the door. Just a matter of seconds before aunt Camilla's ear-piercing voice filled the hallway. I closed my eyes and started counting to ten. One, two, three . . .

But when the door opened, in didn't step my aunt. I was waiting for her to come bellowing at me for not taking her fugly dog for a walk but instead-

"Um, h-hello?"

The confusion in mom's voice only meant one thing: whoever stood behind the door wasn't aunt Camilla. The curiosity to catch a glimpse of the visitor took over me. I slipped out of the kitchen, slid along one column of wall, and sneaked a look at the person standing outside.

My eyes widened. Breeze McBon stood at the doorstep, clad in floor-length sky blue robes, the red and green leather ribbons peeking from beneath her unbuttoned black trench-coat.

What on earth was she doing here?

Was she here to inform mom I was a witch and would be attending Hogwarts in the fall? My heart leapt at the thought. At least I wouldn't be the one to break the news. And Breeze, being the deputy headmistress, had plenty of experience with informing parents of muggleborn students about the existence of the wizarding world. Surely she would find a gentler way to break the news to mom. My straightforwardness wouldn't help in this situation.

"Good evening, Mrs Kin," Breeze said, inclining her head in a bow.

Mom's face had turned as white as a sheet. She was hardly blinking.

"Would you mind if I come in?"

"Y-Yes. I mean no, no I-of course I don't mind . . . Just come in, please."

She ran a hand through her auburn hair and opened the door wider. Breeze trod inside without a word, her eyes taking in the sight of all the oil paintings that hung on the walls. She stopped right in front of the portrait of an aristocratic woman holding a parasol. Her greenish-brown eyes narrowed.

"How exactly do you muggles cope with the immobility of these portraits?"

Mom's mouth fell open. "I-I beg your pardon?"

Breeze whirled around to face her, her head tilted slightly to the side.

"Where is Polly?"

Mom blinked, as if to wake herself from a bizarre dream. Poor mom. I'd never seen her so bewildered and distressed in her life.

"She, um . . . she must be in the living room," she said, trying to appear collected. "Follow me, miss."

I quickly tip-toed out of the kitchen and entered the living room before them, plopping down on the couch like I'd been lying there all along. My veins were pumping with adrenaline.

"Hello, Polly."

I jolted upright in a sitting position. Breeze McBon looked at me with the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.

"Ms McBon!" I exclaimed, feigning surprise. "It's good to see you again."

"Y-You two have met?" Mom stuttered. Her expression had grown even more astonished and her eyes kept darting back and forth between me and Breeze.

"Mom, this is Breeze McBon," I started to explain. "She's the deputy headmistress of-"

"Hogwarts."

The breath caught in my throat so hard I almost choked. My eyes goggled to the point that I feared they might pop out of their sockets. The word hadn't come out of Breeze McBon's mouth, but . . . mom's.

I looked at her in the eye. Mom's pale freckled face had regained some of its normal color, and the shock had worn off, now replaced by another expression. An odd mixture of defeat and despair.

My lips parted to speak, but all that came out was a faint whisper. "You know?"