"Our letters are coming today," Damia piped up conversationally over the Greenbottle family table. It was breakfast-time, and they had become used to the second-eldest's morning predictions. She had been gifted with the skill of divination through her dreams, though the power wasn't strong, and often simply related to tedious things that happened through the day.
"WhatwhenaretheycomingdoyouseeminehowlongdowehavetowaitwhathouseamIin?!" The youngest boy across from Damia exploded in excitement, slamming his hands on the table so fervently that his glass of milk toppled over, creating a creamy stain on the otherwise green tablecloth.
"Gallus, manners!" Daedris, the matron of the family, glared sternly at her son, drawing her wand from her side and setting the milk back into the cup with a simple flick.
"Sorry mum, I'm just excited!" Gallus bounced in his seat, looking back to his sister. "Soooo?"
Damia raised her lip sarcastically. "Of course I don't know that, dummy." She kicked him stealthily under the table, not to cause harm but to express her frustration. Of all his sisters, Gallus fought with Damia the most, and Mabel the least.
"OW!" Gallus said loudly, despite the hit barely landing.
His exclamation provided results, as their father looked up from the Daily Prophet and gave the pair a look under his reading glasses. It was enough to cause them both to sink back in their seats.
Wolfing down his scrambled eggs, Gallus folded the cloth napkin in his lap and placed it on his plate. "May I be excused?" He asked his mother, already beginning to slide his chair back. Daedris gave a nod and the boy was off like a shot, running to his room to let Peter in on the news.
The Greenbottle Manor was a tasteful one compared to other fullblooded families' palaces and mansions, but still held many unused rooms. Gallus passed three doors on his right before gripping the fourth's handle, throwing it open.
"Peter!" Gallus said, regaining his breath from his run, "we're going to Hogwarts!"
Peter the cat, who had been curled up on Gallus' bed, raised his head slowly, let out a small peep.
"That's right, you're coming with me." Gallus walked over to his closet, pushing it open and grabbing his trunk. He set it on the floor, popping up the lid. "I wonder what house I'll be in. I hope I'm in Ravenclaw like Mabel is, and da was. Hufflepuff would be fine too, but since Evangeline is already graduated I won't know anyone." Gallus continued chirping as he collected things from his room that he thought he would need, like his collection of quidditch cards, and the safety goggles he wore when visiting his da's work.
Afternoon didn't come soon enough for Gallus, who had eventually left his packing for a game of exploding snaps, then lunch, then studies, then a broomstick ride through the village. When he returned, he was helping his mum peel potatoes (the Greenbottles believed that, even with magic, a little elbow grease was 'good for the temperament'). As he worked he saw some familiar shapes on the horizon. The owls were coming!
Gallus peeled the potato in record speed, a rate almost as fast as his mother, who was using magic. When the letters arrived, they were sorted through the children accordingly. Gallus stared down at the swirled writing on the envelope, afraid to open it and destroy the moment.
"Go on," Barnabus appeared behind Gallus, motioning towards the letter. The affirmation from his father was enough motivation for Gallus to tear it open.
"My wand!" Gallus said loudly after noticing the supplies list, "I need to get my wand!"
"Tone it down, young man," Daedris put her hand on his shoulder, "there's no need to shout. We'll be going to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get you wand and other supplies." She turned to her husband, letting out a small sigh. "That's one more set of books. I don't know how we manage."
"It'll be fine, dear. Damia will pay for her own this year. Right, sweetie?" Barnabus took Gallus' supplies list and read it before looking up at his daughter.
Damia nodded, folding her own letter up and putting it back in the envelope.
"When can I get a job, da?" Mabel asked, pulling on his arm. "I want to work with you!"
Barnabus smiled at his daughter. "You've got to work hard, get good grades, and then maybe you will." It was just a small lie. Mabel could likely work at her father's business, but never at his status. That was a job, of course, reserved for men. Barnabus' eyes glanced over to his son's face, still lit up with joy.
It would be an interesting year.