Chapter Text
When Onoda had been called downstairs by his mother to open his mail, he could comfortably say that he hadn’t known what to expect. In all his eleven years, he could count on one hand the number of times he had received mail addressed to himself (one of those times had been a flyer for a lawnmower sale, one had been an official reprimand from school, and another a postcard from his aunt on vacation in Majorca who had since apparently forgotten she had a nephew, as she never sent anything again), so despite previous experience telling him not to expect anything particularly special, he was curious nonetheless.
By the time Onoda entered the kitchen, his mother had already resumed what she had been doing prior to calling him down-- this time, it looked like she was doing the ironing. It was a familiar sight to see in the morning. Her short curly hair was held out of her eyes with a scarf and she was humming to herself as she worked, several baskets of wrinkled laundry still waiting by her feet. There was a large stack of what appeared to be utility bills laid out on the table and she seemed to be resolutely attempting to pretend they weren’t there.
“Good morning Sakamichi,” she said cheerfully, plucking another shirt out of a laundry basket and laying it flat on the ironing board. “Have you eaten anything yet today?”
Onoda hadn’t. He had been intending to join his mother for breakfast earlier, as he in turn intended to do every day, but as usual he had been distracted by his collection of comics and DVDs and had completely forgotten about going to breakfast until his mother’s voice had pulled him away. With this reminder, however, he felt his stomach twist with hunger. After making his way over to the counter, he took two slices of bread from the bag and popped them into the toaster.
“Sorry I didn’t come for breakfast earlier,” Onoda muttered, the first twinges of guilt now combining with the hunger that was creeping at his insides to create an unmovable knot. He didn’t like missing any of the meals that they were both at home for, since the times they were able to sit down to a meal together were getting fewer as time passed. “Are you working today?”
She nodded, not pausing in her task. “Yes, yes, but not until this afternoon. I’ll be at a late shift tonight so I’ll fix you something for supper before I leave. It’ll be in the fridge so you’ll be able to put it in the microwave whenever you’re ready to eat.”
Onoda nodded mechanically, wishing he could do more than just agree with her and pretend to buy into the mindset that everything was fine and normal. He hovered awkwardly as he waited for his toast to be finished, not wanting to bother his mother but wanting to know what he had come downstairs for in the first place. “You said I had mail?”
“Ah, you’re right. Here,” she said, selecting an envelope from the pile one handed and offering it to him as she continued to iron one of Onoda’s shirts with the other. “There’s no stamp though. Strange.”
He took the envelope to her, and immediately realized that there was something stranger about it than the absence of a stamp. The envelope was made of thick, old-fashioned looking paper and signed with emerald-green ink, but what was perhaps even stranger was the very specific way the letter had been addressed. His own name, Sakamichi Onoda, was written on the front, as well as his home address and other information often found on a letter (minus a return address, he noted). Onoda, as previously mentioned, did not often receive mail so he could’ve been wrong, but he somehow doubted that most people would deem it necessary to not only specify the city, street, and address of his house, but also to mention that Onoda occupied the secondary bedroom upstairs when they addressed their letters to him.
Onoda glanced at his mother for an explanation, but she was hard at work still and he decided not to interrupt her.
The envelope was sealed with red wax, and opened with a satisfying pop as he slid his thumb through the crease. There were several pages to the letter, so he began with the first and unfolded it, curious as to what it could be about. The first page was a brief handwritten note, which succeeded only in raising more questions than it answered.
Dear Mr. Onoda,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
He’d apparently been accepted into some kind of school? But that was strange--Onoda couldn’t remember his mother mentioning wanting to enroll him in a school with this-- admittedly odd--name. They had discussed his schooling options already and they had been very limited. He would have remembered if he had heard about it before.
And on top of that, this was apparently school that taught “witchcraft and wizardry”?
Onoda blinked several times, convinced he had misread the note somehow, but even after reading it through again he was convinced that that was indeed what it said.
For that matter, what did it mean by “owl”?
He quickly turned to the next page, futilely hoping that the following page would explain the last. This page was not laid out like a letter, and Onoda decided that this was probably the list of supplies the first page had promised. Knowing that this was a list for a school, even if it was a strange school, Onoda had at least expected it to include normal school supplies, such as books, pencils, paper, and maybe a pair of trainers that were suitable for physical activity.
Although a number of books were on the list, he really hadn’t been expecting to see titles like The Standard Book of Spells or One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi listed as required reading. Perhaps he should have, though, if this was indeed a school of “witchcraft and wizardry”. The list also mentioned a variety of other objects that were unusual requirements for a student attending a conventional school, such as sets of phials, robes, and even a cauldron and a wand.
Was this letter even real?
And if it was, Onoda wondered, how could they possibly afford all of this?
The final page was considerably more substantial than the preceding two, and only slightly more informative.
A Note for Students From Muggle (Non-Magical) Families:
You have received this attachment in addition to the standard first-year acceptance letter, as our information has indicated that your family has had no prior contact with the magical community and is therefore uninformed about what may be expected at this juncture. While the revelation that magic and magic practitioners are real may have come as a shock to you, we wish now to provide have our assurances that Hogwarts is a legitimate, first-class educational institution staffed by highly skilled instructors. Hogwarts boasts a rich history, challenging hands-on lessons spanning a seven-year program, and a vibrant social atmosphere. The school itself occupies a beautiful scenic area in an undisclosed location and features grounds made up of acres of untouched wilderness, making it a popular choice for parents of young witches or wizards who are looking to provide an immersive and exciting educational experience for their children.
For muggle families, finances have historically been an issue in purchasing supplies and textbooks required for courses. The school understands that this is in many cases unavoidable, particularly since muggle money is not an accepted currency within the magical community. Therefore, every year Hogwarts sponsors muggle-born children invited to attend the school and provides them with the basic necessities required to perform exceptionally in their studies. Please contact the Hogwarts staff via owl if you wish to opt out of this program.
To assist in the purchasing of school supplies and to answer any questions you may have, a member of the Hogwarts staff will be arriving at your house at 11:00 AM sharp on July 25. We look forward to making your acquaintance this September.
Onoda wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought some of the passages within the seemingly cookie-cutter educational institution description sounded vaguely foreboding.
Also foreboding was the fact that apparently a member of this school’s staff had apparently invited themself over, specifying the date and even the time. It was like whoever was running this school was just assuming that Onoda would be going.
But then again, this school had promised to cover the basic costs of Onoda attending. In light of his and his mother’s current situation, he doubted he could ignore that. This place also seemed like it might be interesting, maybe even fun if it was actually a real place and not made up. At least it would be, apart from Onoda’s suspicion that it was a trick.
“You’ll probably want to read this, mom,” Onoda said, putting the pages back in order hastily before handing them to her.
Onoda watched her face pensively as she read, reading in her expression vague confusion, slowly progressing into sincere incomprehension. She took her time reading, and Onoda realized then that he’d entirely forgotten that he had been making breakfast and that his toast had popped long ago. He took a plate out of the cupboard and took his toast from the machine, not liking the thought of wasting food even if eating cold toast was not the most appetizing thing.
“Oh, Sakamichi, this is wonderful!”
Onoda nearly dropped his toast.
Whatever he had been expecting, it hadn’t been that.
“Uh, what’s wonderful, mom?” he asked cautiously.
“You’ve just been personally invited to a very impressive sounding school, Sakamichi! It sounds like one of those old prestigious schools that the rich families send their children to, and they even offered to provide funding so you could go there. How did this happen? Did you take a proficiency test in class? Did one of your teachers send a recommendation?” she asked, eyes glowing with happiness in a way they hadn’t in a long time.
Onoda shifted uncomfortably. Whatever had gotten Onoda’s name on that letter hadn’t been his performance in school, that was a for sure. His marks were mediocre at best, he had no athletic talent, and to say he had no social life would be an understatement given that his classmates tended to actively avoid him. But his mother seemed so happy... Onoda didn’t want to dispel her fantasy of having a talented, well-adjusted son just yet.
“Maybe?” he hazarded a reply. “I really don’t know why I got this letter. But you’re... you’re okay with it?”
She ruffled his hair fondly. “Of course I’m okay with it,” she said. “I’m proud of you, and I’m very happy for you as well. This is a very exciting opportunity.”
“But what about... it says it’s a school of witchcraft and wizardry, mom. What would they even teach there?”
“Witchcraft and wizardry, one would assume,” she replied playfully.
“Mom,” Onoda said, bordering on exasperated. “Magic isn’t real.”
Onoda’s mother smiled, leaning in and patting Onoda’s cheek fondly, the way she used to before he’d gotten old enough to find it embarrassing. “Sakamichi, there are many things in this world that I don’t understand, and I probably never will. But I feel like you’ve been given a chance to learn about some of them, and I don’t want doubt to rob you of this chance.” she smiled. “I know I haven’t given you the easiest or happiest childhood by keeping you with me, and I regret that, which is why I think that you’ll be happier if you trust what this letter says and consider attending this school. Even if things are difficult at first, or if they’re frightening, I believe that you’ll find that you are a much braver and stronger person than you were before. Even though...” she trailed off, wiping at her eyes, which were looking suspiciously watery, “I’d miss you every second you’re gone.”
Onoda blinked, confused. “What do you mean, mom? Why would you miss me? I’m not--”
“This would be a boarding school, Sakamichi,” she explained gently. “These old country schools are all like that. You can’t be expected to live at home and then travel to school every day when it’s so far away now, can you? But this can be exciting too-- you’ll have a chance to live with your friends, and you’ll still be able to come home and visit for the summer.”
Onoda opened his mouth to reply, but the horror he experienced at that revelation temporarily robbed him of words. He was so stupid, he should have realized that it was a boarding school when it described the setting with words like “scenic” and “wilderness”, and, even more questionably, “undisclosed location”. Of course it wouldn’t be a school he could just walk to every day. Of course he’d have to move away to go there.
And friends? Onoda inwardly shuddered at the idea of living in shared quarters with other students his age and older. If these people didn’t hate him, Onoda would count himself lucky. It was extremely unlikely there would be any more friends for Onoda at this strange sounding school than there were at his last school. If there was one thing school had taught him that stuck with him, it was that Onoda was not friendship material. There was too much wrong with him for that.
“Sorry Sakamichi dear, we’ll have to continue this discussion another time,” his mother said, startling Onoda out of his thoughts. “I still have a whole list of chores to do before my shift starts. Why don’t you go upstairs and think on it a bit?”
Onoda sighed, eyes downcast. “Yeah, okay. I’ll do that.”
His mother placed a kiss on the top of his head. “Love you.”
He hunched his shoulders, unhappy, but he still replied, “Love you too.”
***
The letter occupied his thoughts throughout the entire day and persisted long into the night. He made numerous attempts to keep himself from thinking about it, marathoning one of his favourite series despite already knowing every line from it, and when that failed instead attempting to clean his room from top to bottom. He spent most of the day doing a number of odd jobs and rewatching old cartoons, and he ate supper and washed up at his usual time, but when it came time to go to bed, he still found himself lying awake, staring at the ceiling. With nothing else to distract him, the thought he had been attempting to suppress came to the forefront of his mind with a vengeance.
Onoda was supposed to leave his home and attend a boarding school somewhere far away.
He frowned, shifting uncomfortably under the covers. The house was silent and empty around him, so even the slightest motion sounded too loud to his ears. It served as a stark reminder that his mother was out of the house, still working despite the late hour.
This could be a good thing, right? Onoda could go and live at a fancy boarding school for a little while and his mother could focus on taking care of herself instead of supporting him all the time. Although she had never discussed it with him, and for all intents and purposes maintained the appearance of everything being fine and normal, Onoda was not blind to the tiny hints in their everyday life that revealed their true condition. He had seen and understood what was meant by the stacks of unpaid bills on the table, by his mother’s cheerful insistence that they darn their socks when they got holes in them instead of just buying new ones, and by the increasing number of days that she worked late into the night as Onoda lay awake in his room, too full of unspoken worry to even consider distracting himself with his comics.
Onoda was also insightful enough to realize that this school, though, this “Hogwarts” place could be the answer to this problem. With his school fees taken care of and his feeding and clothing no longer an issue, Onoda’s mother might finally have enough money to pay all the bills and debts that needed paying. Maybe she would also have time to do things for herself instead of having to divide her time solely between work, maintaining the house, and raising her young son. Maybe she would lose that pinched look around her eyes when she smiled, like she was putting a lot of effort into maintaining a cheerful facade for Onoda’s sake.
And it would only be for the next seven years.
Onoda rolled over, twisting the quilt tightly around his body as he squeezed his eyes shut. His mother would, admittedly, be better off without him. She had been telling the truth when she said she would miss him while he was away at boarding school year after year, he was sure of this, but she had survived many years without him before, and in their current situation he was sure he was more of a burden than he was a help.
But, perhaps rather selfishly, a big part of him didn’t want to go. He lived a quiet, unsocial life, but he was attached to his room, with his carefully organized collection of comics and movies, his posters, and his comfortable bed. He would certainly miss his mother. The idea of leaving this life to go live somewhere else, much less in close quarters with a bunch of strangers, was a terrifying one.
It’s okay, you’ll still get to come home during the summer. And who knows? Maybe the other kids will be nicer than all the classmates you’ve had before. They won’t know anything about you, so they might not even think you’re weird, providing you watch your step. Maybe some of them will even like you.
Maybe you’ll have friends.
Onoda buried his face deeper into his pillow. It would be really nice to have friends, he admitted in the privacy of his own mind.
But what if it was the same thing at this new school? What if he was still the awkward kid no one liked, only this time without a place to go to get away from them and do things he enjoyed?
And then, perhaps most importantly, there was this “school of magic” thing. It was kind of funny that his trepidation over leaving home seemed more important to him at the moment than this particular point. After all, he had learned some startling new information about the world today.
To explain the contents of the letter, there were only two possibilities: one, that magic was real and that he, Onoda, was one of a privileged few in a position to learn it, or two, that he was the intended victim of a bizarre and incredibly elaborate joke. Either possibility should have been of greater importance to him than the possibility that he would have to leave his home, but Onoda’s mind could be a strange place sometimes.
He found himself almost hoping it was some kind of joke. If it was a joke, after all, he wouldn’t have to leave.
While the possibility of a world in which magic was real was amazing, Onoda wasn’t sure if it would be really any better than the life he had now. At least he was used to this one. And really, even if it was a legitimate letter for a real, honest-to-god school of magic, they had undoubtedly made a mistake in sending a letter to Onoda, and would soon realize just how wrong they were and try to fix their error.
After all, there was and never would be anything special whatsoever about Sakamichi Onoda.