Bang! A series of loud crashes echoed through the small house.
“Bruno! What did you drop this time? Nothing breakable, I hope.” Brunhilda staggered toward the foot of the stairs, weaving like a drunkard, her arms filled with an enormous stack of boxes. She put the pile down with a grunt and knelt to examine the box lying at the foot of the stairs.
“Oh, it’s all right.” Nothing was broken; the box was full of clothes instead of delicate china, like the last box had been. She sighed with relief and picked up half of the boxes she had been carrying before, and started following Bruno up the stairs.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to drop anything,” Bruno said, slightly defensively.
They had arrived early that morning in their small town in England. Although everyone else considered it small, Bruno and his parents still felt it was huge compared to Karstbaum, even though they had spent a few weeks in London, trying to find a place to live. This quiet two-story cottage seemed perfect, with its whitewashed exterior and cozy rooms inside. The neighborhood, too, seemed perfect- a quiet English town, where they could stay fairly isolated from their Muggle neighbors, and maybe even find some wizards nearby. They had sent Newt Scamander their new address, as he’d asked, and tried to settle down into their new lives.
Unfortunately, there were no wizards very close by, but there were two families a couple of towns away. Neither family had children anywhere close to Bruno’s age, so Bruno spent most of his time wandering the woods near his house and writing letters to Hans. Otto was looking for a job, without much success. Brunhilda also was looking for a job, but wasn’t depressed about not finding any work the way her husband was. She floated around the house, humming tunes off-key and arranging flowers in vases on every available surface, or reading books to teach herself English.
Every day she’d drag Bruno inside for a two-hour lesson on English, until they both could express themselves fairly well, although with horrible accents. To fix this, Brunhilda commanded Bruno to hang out near the Muggle children, and listen to their accents without letting them see him. He begrudgingly did this a few times, but then gave up, uninterested in following them and listening to their boring conversation. Desperate to make sure that Bruno became fluent, Brunhilda asked the wizarding families to recommend someone who could teach the Schmidts.
Otto had kept himself aloof from these attempts until now, still suffering from homesickness and depression. His wife now forced him to join the language lessons, hoping to improve his mood and increase his chances of finding a job. The tutor they hired was a fat, grumpy old man with a short grey beard, who had no interest in them except for the fact that they paid him his paycheck. He did a good job though, and soon even Otto’s English was understandable.
Bruno was also depressed, although less noticeably than his father. There was simply nothing for him here; no friends, nothing to do, and the only change coming up was when he would go to the school his mother was always talking about now. He was almost looking forward to it, despite being so nervous it was almost a constant ache in his stomach, about going there and having to meet all of those wizard kids. They all knew much more than him, he had no doubt, and was afraid that he would never even get accepted in the first place. He probably wasn’t magical enough. Then his mother would be so disappointed in him for being a failure, and for not even getting into the school that had been their main reason for moving. His father would be even sadder about living here, and it would all be Bruno’s fault. Bruno tried not to think about school too much.
Exploring the woods was Bruno’s main activity, and he enjoyed it most of the time. Sometimes, though, for reasons he couldn’t put into words, he would kick out at tree trunks as he walked by them, or throw acorns when he saw an animal scampering by in the bushes. He always felt rather guilty afterwards, but he was so frustrated with everything. If his mother asked him a question he would snap back at her, which he had rarely done before. Sometimes he was so bored he wished he could do something dangerous, or simply find a way to sneak back home. He’d come back to reality soon, though. Bruno knew he couldn’t leave, or run away and live with Muggles, or anything else like that- he wouldn’t be able to get food, and it just wasn’t practical. He was just so bored and lonely…
Bruno wrote to Hans nearly every day, sometimes long letters, other times just a few lines. Getting a response was the high point of his day, and he would eagerly sit down to pen a reply.
Dear Hans,
How are things back home? The baby bird I rescued is doing much better. It’s still really boring here. I wish you could come, I’m really lonely. Everything here is pretty, and the food is much better, but it’s still really boring. Maybe convince your mother to move? All right, I know it’s hopeless. So in a few years you’ll come and visit, yes? I haven’t made any friends still, and Father really wants a job, but he still hasn’t found one. I think he misses home more than I do even though I don’t see how that’s possible to do. I can’t think of anything else to say, since nothing new ever seems to happen here. Please, please write back soon, before I go crazy waiting for your letter.
Your bored friend,
Bruno
*******************
Dear Bruno,
Sorry to hear how dull things are for you now. Have you named the bird? Are you letting it go free or keep it as a pet? You’re right about my mother not coming, and I don’t think I’ll be able to visit for quite a while, since I need to harvest all our crops or she won’t have food to eat. The trade fair this year was quite exciting, we made a good profit. I miss you, but I’m a lot busier now that I’m old enough to plow, so we won’t owe everyone a debt for helping my mother do it. I’m glad I’m big enough to do it myself, we’ll have more food this way. My hands are all blistered now, though. I hope you get into Hogwarts, make sure to tell me all about it when you do. I have to go, Mother needs me to weed the wheat fields.
Your hardworking friend,
Hans
Spring’s delicate blossoms faded away, and the bright green tones of summer filled the woods where Bruno wandered. Baby birds were growing bigger, and Bruno missed the woods in Karstbaum, where at least he could meet Hans, instead of having only squirrels for friends. Otto still had no job, and Bruno often heard his parents arguing in the house about whether it was worth it to have moved here. Bruno took to surreptitiously checking the mail every day when he came back to the house.
One day, Bruno was coming back from his usual haunts, holding a few daisies in his hand as a present for his mother. He saw an owl sitting on a tree, and it hooted at him quietly when it saw him looking. He imitated its hoot, and it blinked at him reproachfully as though scolding him for his impertinent mockery.
He watched it fly off, and then turned to the mailbox for his routine check. This time, there was a bill, a letter for his father- probably another rejection in his job hunt- and the third letter made Bruno’s heart leap up into his throat. He hardly dared to believe it at first. Then it came to him- this was probably a joke, or a mistake of some sort. But no- it clearly said his name in the front, there was no doubt about that. Maybe this was a rejection letter, though, like the ones his father got so often. He ripped it open with trembling fingers just to check.
He read the letter, the words blurring before his eyes. He felt like singing with joy and relief.
“Mother!” Bruno called, hurling himself through the front door at breakneck speed. “Mother, it’s here! The letter came!”
Brunhilda rushed towards him, swinging him up and around in a circle. “Oh, finally, Bruno, I am so proud, you have no idea!” Otto came in too, and hugged his son. He didn’t start dancing like his wife, but smiled at Bruno in a way that made Bruno even happier than he’d been before.
“You’ll find a job soon, Father, don’t worry,” Bruno said quietly, wanting to reassure him.
“This calls for a celebration!” Brunhilda said happily, not hearing Bruno’s words. “I’ll make something special for dinner, any requests?” She bustled off into the kitchen, happily planning the meal.
Bruno ran to his room for a pen and paper. He couldn’t wait to write to Hans, and hear what he had to say.