You watch your older brother from across the room. He is moving his toy up and down without using his hands. He is smiling and you are staring at him wide-eyed. You know that he is using magic, but it still gets you every time. Your brother has been using magic at random times for a year, but this is the first time that he really controlled what he was doing.
You want to use magic too. You want to know what it feels like. Every time your brother uses magic he smiles. Something good must be happening.
You want to feel that happiness too.
Your mother says that he will be going to Hogwarts soon, just another year. She says that you have to wait a bit; you’re not old enough.
A year later you haven’t felt that happiness. Your brother has just gotten his letter to Hogwarts, and a new happy smile is on his face. He is now going to learn about the thing that makes him happier than anything else. You are happy for him, you really are, but you feel bad. You don’t have that happiness. You want it badly.
Another year passes and your brother comes back from Hogwarts. He tells you what you are missing. He wishes that he could show you everything that he learned, but he can’t. He was told not to.
He tells you that you will be using magic soon, and so does your mum. You haven’t seen your dad in years, but you know that he would be telling you the same thing.
The next year comes and there is still no sign of magic. You mother has told you that you haven’t used magic because you have a perfect life so there is no reason to use it. You know that she is just saying that to make you feel better.
Every night when you lay in your bed you shut your eyes and hold your hand over your doll. You concentrate on lifting to doll up. You think long and hard about the doll and nothing else. You open your eyes and hope to see the doll in the air, but you don’t. The doll is still lying on your bed next to you. Every night after you open your eyes and see that the doll is still there, lying on the same spot of your bed next to you, you cry. Silent tears fall down your face so you don’t wake anyone up – they don’t need to know that you do this every night.
Another year passes and you turn eleven. No magic has come out of your body. You have given up hope months ago. You know there is a small chance that you will use magic, but your mother says to keep hope – anything is possible. If that was true then your father would come back. You know that isn’t going to happen. Your brother says to keep the faith too. He wants to share the joy of magic with you, but he doesn’t think of magic in the same way anymore. He only talks about Hogwarts with you a little bit, and when he does his eyes don’t sparkle. You notice the loss of that twinkle in his eye. He doesn’t see magic in the same way that you do; he takes it for granted. It’s just something that he has.
A week passes and the letters should be arriving soon. You haven’t used magic, but maybe the people at Hogwarts won’t know that you haven’t. You desperately hope that is the case.
On Tuesday morning of that week your brother has a new twinkle in his eye. It’s not because of magic; it’s not as big, it’s not as bright. No, a girl has agreed to meet him in Diagon Alley when they get their school lists. He said to me that he is more excited for this than he is for magic. You know that he is lying. Nothing is better than magic. Nothing.
You see an owl coming in the distance and you get excited, but you keep it to yourself. You pretend not to notice it. Your brother is the next one to see it and he walks to the window and opens it. Soon the owl entered, circled around the room, and landed on one of the chairs.
There is only one owl. Shouldn’t there be two? You wonder if the school had too many letters to send out and there weren’t enough owls to do the job. You hope that is the case.
The suspense that is going through your body is making your head hurt. You don’t like it.
Your brother is the closest to the owl so he goes to retrieve the letter. Your brother unties the letter from the owl’s leg. He looks at you.
There is only one letter.
You know the thought of going to Hogwarts is too good to be true.
You will never know that happiness of using the magic for the first time. You will never feel the joy of using magic again and again. You will never get that Hogwarts letter telling you that you will learn how to use magic properly.
You leave you mother and brother in the kitchen and you walk to your room. You sit down on your bed knowing that you will never truly be happy.