Lucky

The Letter

        To say that Miss Louise Smyth was angry would be an understatement. Miss Smyth was furious! She felt that, perhaps, if she had looked in the mirror, there may have been steam pouring from her ears. In fact, Miss Smyth could just feel her plump face flushing a bright scarlet. Excusing herself from the office, the dumpy little woman strode purposefully down the corridor, her short, black heels clicking and clacking as she went. As Miss Smyth burst into the hall, fifty pairs of eyes turned to stare at her. Fifty young girls sat around at tables, eating toast and cereal. But the manager of Cherry House, Home for orphaned girls, was only interested in one of them. "Morgana Black!" She bellowed.

          Forty-nine pairs of eyes now swivelled to a corner of the room, where a young girl had dropped her toast in surprise and stood, rather shakily. Morgana Black was eleven years old, and average height for her age. The girl was rather skinny and pale, but there was no denying that she was pretty. Miss Smyth had never quite understood the girl. She had an air of casual perfection - cheeky and
laid-back as she was, the girl was strangely regal. Her dark, elbow-length hair was wild and unkempt, but when properly tamed it fell into loose curls. Her eyes were also incredibly dark; they could hardly be described as brown. Those eyes often held a mischievous glint.

        This morning, however, all that could be seen in those eyes was confusion and disbelief. Morgana couldn't think that she'd done anything too out of hand in the last while. While she hadn't exactly been good, anything she had done was just harmless fun. But by the furious glint in Miss Smyth's eyes, this was serious. Morgana stood up shakily and made her way to the door after Miss Smyth.

          The orphanage manager didn't speak until she and the girl were standing outside her office door. Then she spun on her heel and bore down on Morgana. "Alright, girl!" She snarled. "This is the last straw. There is an old lady sitting in my office right now and she has demanded to see you. I have told you too many times that I won't tolerate this - this abnormality. You can't behave yourself, and I don't know what you've done now, but this is it! Now get in there and apologise to that poor woman!" Morgana tried to protest as she was shoved through the office door. She was rather prone to taking pranks a bit far, but she'd hardly done anything this week.

          Morgana stumbled through the door and seated herself cautiously on the edge of the chair opposite the old lady. One of the first things to catch Morgana's eye were the woman's odd clothes. She wore a long black skirt, a white blouse and a fluffy cardigan with an old-fashioned hat balanced precariously on top of her silvery hair. On the woman's feet was a pair of black suede pumps. She looked up as Morgana sat down, and her eyes glistened as though she were about to cry, yet they were filled with wonder.

        "I can't believe it," she remarked in a soft voice. "You're so like him." Morgana looked at the woman. "Pardon me, ma'am, but - who are you?" The woman nodded, her eyes still full of emotion. "Yes, I imagine you have a good many questions, Morgana, and they shall all be answered, in time. I am Professor McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. No matter what way I tell you this, Morgana, you will not believe me, but - you are a witch."

           Morgana stared at the woman. "Alright... ok then?" She stared at the woman, wondering whether she should run and get Miss Smith. This lady was very clearly mad.

     "I know it sounds odd, Morgana, deranged even, but I beg that you listen. Have you ever done anything strange, anything you couldn't explain?" Morgana thought back over the last few years. There were so many things which had happened to her that she couldn't explain. The most peculiar event was one day when she had turned into a small, black dog. But - but that had just been a dream - right?