A small female-goblin patted her crunchy hair for sound-effect and a passing male-goblin whistled at her. A second-female goblin, standing beside the first, rolled her eyes. “Stop showing off, Tipsy. You know you never would have gone for him. His skin is too smooth, almost like a human’s.”

Tipsy nodded, “True. But I think you’re only jealous because your hair is nearly as fine as one of those revolting baby sheep, Morridan.”

“Oh hush, you, my hair may not be as stylishly knotted as yours, but it is still passable, more than passable!” Morridan reassured herself.

Tipsy stretched and nodded again. “I know, I’m only teasing. Gorgeous day, isn’t it?”

“No,” Morridan complained, “it’s too hot.”

Tipsy settled into the grass and crinkled her hooked nose, feeling the sweat beading on her face under the strain of the hot July sun. Morridan tapped her foot impatiently, her rough skin the envy of all other goblins as they entered the atrocious years of goblin puberty. “Tipsy, I’m tired,” she whined in her youthful, gravelly voice. “Let’s go inside.”

Tipsy pursed her lips in what she knew to be an attractive fashion, causing her deepset wrinkles to turn into more luscious wrinkles. “Oh, stop complaining. I don’t want to hear it from you. Besides, the sun will make our freckles stand out more.”

Morridan let out a sigh heavy with exasperation. “Yes, we all know what pride you take in your moles and such. Who wouldn’t?”

“Not you. Your skin is pock-marked to a lovely degree.”

Morridan looked pleased with herself. “Yes, that’s true. But still! It’s too warm outside. Let’s go to Fortescue’s for some ice cream. Did you know that Harry Potter signed the wall there? On Fortescue’s request?”

Tipsy, with a wave of her hand, dismissed this news. “Did you know that my dad first gave Harry Potter his Gringott’s key? Talks about it at all the good parties…apparently, Harry Potter found him frightening!”

“Yes, yes, we all know,” Morridan said impatiently. “If your father tells that story to my father again, I think my father will just explode. But please, let’s go for some ice cream, anyway.”

Tipsy didn’t respond. Her sunlight had just then been blocked by an owl, which cast more of a shadow the closer it came, until it freed the sunlight to shine upon her speckled face as the fowl landed beside her and gently nudged a letter against her gorgeously crunchy hair. Tipsy didn’t move and the owl flew away.

Always the gossip, Morridan bit her well-chapped lip, adorned with a false cold-sore. “Well, aren’t you going to open it?”

“I don’t know.” Tipsy still didn’t move, feeling the weight of the letter against her head. “It just feels strange.”

“Open it!” Morridan burst.

Tipsy sat up, brushing bits of grass from her back and detangling it from her hair. Her large black eyes, framed by delicate crow’s feet, clapped onto the wax seal of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the H emblem seeming to re-melt in the humidity of London summer. She gently lifted the thin envelope and flipped it to the front where it was clearly addressed:

Tipsy Nilbog
712 Wart Street
Goblin District, Diagon Alley

Morridan moved in close to read the front of the envelope. “Merlin…open it, Tip!”

Tipsy slid her knobby thumb under the seal to retrieve her letter, which began:

You have been accepted to Hogwarts…

Reading rapidly over her shoulder, Morridan shrieked, “This…this isn’t possible! There must be some sort of mistake! Yes, that’s it, there has been a mistake. Tipsy, you better send that letter back by return owl. Definitely a mistake. Hogwarts isn’t for goblins!”

Tipsy, although the letter was most unexpected, knew this was now false, and with an unprecedented feeling of school-pride declared, “Not any longer.” She carefully refolded the parchment and returned it gently to the envelope, taking care not to shove it in recklessly. Her mother would love to see it. “Now, Morridan,” she said, her shoulders back, spine erect, “if you will excuse me, I have important matters to attend to. I will need a good deal of school supplies according to this list, and I must get shopping soon. In two days time, Diagon Alley will be full of my fellow classmates.”

Tipsy smiled smugly to herself, the creases in her face elegantly rearranging as she did. She had won popularity among the other goblin-children, and it was only natural that she should be the social-goblin chosen to integrate at Hogwarts. Squaring her shoulders, she stood with her face to the sun, letting the green ink catch the sunlight; it winked at Morridan. Morridan was really the only problem. She didn’t know how she might manage without Morridan all year. Tipsy quickly shoved this thought aside. She was well-loved everywhere she went and Hogwarts could not be so different.

Hardly able to contain her excitement, Tipsy ran into her house through the low door and into the classically-dank hall, with beautiful goblin-gold décor, leaving a stunned Morridan in the yard along with her propriety. “Mama! Mama! Look what I just received!”