A story in which Isabella Jenkins shows great potential from a young age. When Isabella's powers first appeared they were aggressive and violent. Her mother was a muggle and was scared and unsure of what to do with Isabella's unpredictable outbursts...
"We all have two lives, the second one begins when you realize you only have one,"
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A series of hours had passed and the sky outside my bedroom window had turned from a dusty blue to a deep, warm orange. It was now evening and the emotions of the household had calmed down a bit. Despite my curiosity towards the letter that I had received a few hours ago, I knew that I didn't want or need any excess communication with my mother. I could only handle her in small bursts and I knew that my temper would only rise again if we got back onto the subject of my magic.
I had managed to make quite a big dent in the book that I was reading. Standing up from my place on the bed I put the book back where it belonged: my cluttered bookshelf.
One thing that my mother was very attentive to was my admiration of literature. She was pleased that I enjoyed reading and brought me a new book nearly every time she went out. I got through them pretty quickly but with my already small room, I didn't exactly have the facilities to keep them. There were books piled everywhere you looked: on the bookshelf, under my bed, in my cupboards, amongst my clothes. I knew that soon I'd have to start selling them on but there were certain books that I just couldn't part with.
Looking at my alarm clock I saw that it was just past seven in the evening. Both the time and the smell of food wafting up the stairs signaled that dinner was almost ready. The temperature had cooled slightly but my fan was still whirling noisily in the corner of my room and I had swapped the duvet on my bed for a thin blanket.
Changing into a set of comfier clothes I slipped on my fuzzy slippers and made my way downstairs. As the stairs creaked under my feet I could hear my mother humming quietly to herself. Sighing I knew what she would be expecting some sort of apology for earlier. That's how it always worked. I would have to apologize and she would "forgive me" and pretend that nothing had happened.
I continued down the stairs and as I reached the bottom step something suddenly came flying through the letterbox, swiftly and almost silently.
I listened for a few moments and smiled when I heard my mother still humming, she hadn't heard the letterbox.
I bent down and picked the object up off the floor.
Just as I thought. Another letter. I knew that it couldn't have been anything else, the regular post is only ever delivered in the morning. However, one thought went through me.
How did it get here?
If it had been delivered by hand I would've heard the tall front gates creak open. Maybe the person delivering had somehow managed to jump the tall gate?
