Guests of all ages began arriving one after another.
Thomas came rushing through the door, panting, with a beautifully wrapped box in his hands. "Happy birthday, Yulian. It's the latest F-16 model! It can fly by remote control for three minutes."
"Thanks, Thomas." Yulian took the gift and smiled. "I love it. It's the best birthday present I've ever received."
"I knew you'd like it! My mom wanted to give you a copy of 500 Tricky Middle School Algebra Problems, but I hid it!"
"Oh, thank goodness." Yulian let out a sigh of relief. "You saved my middle school years."
Just then, a girl with short flaxen hair came over. "Hey, Yulian."
"Hi, Maggie. Thanks for coming to my birthday party."
"Thanks for inviting me," Maggie said with a smile, giving her hips a little sway. Thomas rolled his eyes beside her.
"Here, Yulian. This is your birthday present from me." She handed him a long, brown box. "Open it and see if you like it."
Yulian opened the box. Inside was a Wilson football, with the NFL logo printed on it.
Seeing Yulian's blank look, Maggie hurriedly said, "Well? Don't all you boys like these?"
"Absolutely, Maggie. I love it," Yulian replied. "It's the best present I've ever received."
Maggie skipped off, leaving Thomas staring at his friend in astonishment. "Tell me, Yulian, which one actually was the best present?"
"Don't get hung up on the unimportant stuff, Thomas." Yulian patted his shoulder. "Just be happy."
"No wonder you've attracted so many girls after only six months here. By the way, what are you looking at? Are you waiting for someone?" Thomas followed Yulian's gaze toward the window and asked curiously.
Under the gray sky, the shadow of a bird flashed past.
"Nothing. I was just admiring the view outside," Yulian said, turning his gaze away to cover.
He looked away. "I just thought today's clouds... looked a lot like... By the way, did you see an owl fly past just now?"
Thomas stuffed the last piece of cake from the party into his mouth, then licked the plate clean enough to use as a mirror. Yulian began helping his mom, Clara, clean up the scraps of colored paper and deflated balloons.
As the guests gradually began to leave, Grandma Elodie yawned and poured the remaining juice down the sink. "Happy birthday, birthday boy! And don't play that noisy 'Losing My Religion' again!"
"But it's R.E.M.!" Yulian protested, but no one paid him any attention.
Just then—
"Tap! Tap! Tap!"
It wasn't a knock at the door. Something was pecking at the window!
Everyone in the living room froze.
Outside, a large gray-brown owl was scrabbling at the glass with its claws, beating its wings so hard it nearly whipped up a small tornado. A thick letter was tied to its leg, sealed with gleaming red wax.
"My goodness! What's a bird of prey like that doing in the city center?" Clara cried. She grabbed a broom and moved to chase it away. "Quick, close the window! Don't let it in!"
"Wait!" Yulian dashed over. "It... it looks like it's delivering a letter!"
By now, Yulian could clearly see the owl perched outside his window, clutching a parchment envelope tightly in its claws.
"Delivering a letter?" His dad, Altair, frowned. "Are owls doing local deliveries now, too?"
Just then, Grandpa Alphard ambled out from behind the sofa, holding a glass of red wine and wearing the mysterious smile of someone who'd seen this coming all along.
"Oh, darling, don't panic." He spoke slowly in English, with a French accent. "This is my pet from Bordeaux. Its name is 'Postman Pierre.' I trained it to deliver birthday cards. A little romance, you know!"
"Your pet?" Grandma Elodie narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Since when did you start keeping owls? Last time you said you'd been busy growing roses!"
"I grow roses and keep owls," Alphard said with a wink. "We Frenchmen are a versatile lot." Ever since marrying Grandma, he'd insisted on calling himself a Frenchman, even changing his accent.
He hurried to the window and, while his family wasn't looking, gave a slight flick of his wand beneath his sleeve. The owl immediately gave a "hoo," its eyes turning vacant and docile, as if it really were a domesticated pet.
"See? What a good bird!" Alphard flung the window open, took the letter, and handed it to Yulian. Then he pulled a piece of stale bread from his pocket and fed it to the owl. "Pierre, well done! I'll give you a meaty treat when you get back—earthworms!"
Then Alphard pulled a letter he'd written earlier from his pocket and tucked it into the owl's claws.
The owl rolled its eyes—actually rolled its eyes—but still played along, clutching the bread as it flapped away. Before leaving, it deliberately crashed into a streetlamp with a loud clang, making the neighbor next door poke their head out to see what was going on.
"All right, all right." Alphard clapped his hands and turned to Yulian with a wink. "Open your 'greeting card.' I bet it says something like, 'Wishing you a hundred years of life.'"
Yulian stifled a laugh and hurriedly tucked the letter into his pajama pocket.
Mom was still muttering, "Pets these days are getting stranger and stranger... The parrot next door could recite its multiplication tables."
"That's because it overheard little Tommy's tutoring session downstairs!" Dad explained, dead serious.
Only Grandma kept her eyes narrowed on Alphard. "Are you up to some weird trick again?" After all, she'd known her husband for decades.
Alphard raised his glass, looking innocent. "Me? Darling, what mischief could a winemaker possibly get up to?"
"Then how did you turn my roast chicken into blueberry flavor last week?"
"Uh... That was a new kind of seasoning."
Everyone burst into laughter as the guests continued saying their goodbyes to the hosts.
No one noticed Yulian sneak back to his room and nervously break the wax seal. His grandfather stood by the door with a sly smile, then turned toward the others outside and softly murmured, "Oblivio Praesens."
That night, magic quietly entered their lives, while the Muggles went on living happily as before.
The parchment had a distinctive feel beneath his fingertips. Yulian could tell the envelope was made of thick parchment.
There was no stamp. A line of elegant, flowing English script in emerald-green ink read: "For Mr. Shiloh Yulian Black, 4th Floor, Building 3, Wickham Courtyard, Charing Cross Road."
The wax seal bore a simple design of a lion, a snake, a badger, and an eagle arranged around the letter "H."
Yulian carefully opened the envelope. The parchment gave a soft "pop," like a contented sigh. A few flecks of golden dust shimmered out through the opening and vanished in an instant.
Inside was an admission letter, also written on parchment, in exactly the same handwriting as the address:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (President of the International Confederation of Wizards, First Class, Order of Merlin, Grand Wizard, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot)
Dear Mr. Black,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of the books and equipment you will need.
The term begins on September 1. We will await you at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at King's Cross Station, where you will board the Hogwarts Express to the school.
We hope to see you at school on time.
We await your reply.
Yours sincerely, Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall
The letter also included a detailed guide to enrollment and a shopping list, listing the required textbooks, wand, cauldron, robes, and other magical supplies, as well as a ticket.
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