The great snowy owl outside the window spread its wings and glided gracefully into the room, landing squarely on the dining table before Adam Bailey.
Its pristine feathers shimmered faintly under the candlelight as it tilted its head, studying the boy with eyes sharp and intelligent, as if confirming his identity.
Then, with deliberate poise, the owl lifted one leg, revealing a sealed parchment envelope.
The Bailey family froze. The owl was nearly a meter tall, regal, majestic, and wholly unbothered by its audience.
"What a big and beautiful owl! Whose could it be?" Mrs. Bailey asked, her voice filled with awe.
Adam leaned forward, staring at the letter now extended toward him.
"Is… is this for me?" he asked hesitantly.
To everyone's astonishment, the owl gave a curt nod, unmistakably human-like, and let out a small, impatient hoot, as though urging him to hurry up and take it already.
Seeing his son's hesitation, Mr. Bailey's excitement finally broke through.
"Adam! Don't just stand there, take it!" he urged. "This snowy owl is the Lord's messenger!"
"The Lord's messenger?!" the whole family gasped in unison.
Why would Lord Sylas the founder of Hogwarts and the most powerful wizard in Middle-earth send a letter to their home? And to Adam, of all people?
Heart pounding, Adam reached out and carefully took the envelope. The rest of the family crowded close, their faces lit by the soft flicker of enchanted candles.
The letter was sealed with red wax, stamped with a coat of arms encircling a stylized letter "H." Around it were four intricate sigils: a Phoenix, Dragon, Thunderbird, and Basilisk.
When Adam turned it over, he saw his own name written in emerald-green ink, followed by his full address:
Hogsmeade City – Ashbriar Lane, No. 21, First Floor, Right Side Dining Table, Mr. Adam Bailey.
The precision made his jaw drop.
"Amazing! How did it know exactly where I was sitting? Is someone outside spying on us?" Adam exclaimed, rushing to the window to peek outside.
But Mr. Bailey only laughed softly, though his eyes glimmered with reverence.
"No, my boy. Lord Sylas doesn't have to spy on anyone. Knowing your exact location is as easy for him as breathing. Trust me, there's little in this world the Lord cannot do."
Hearing his father's words, the rest of the family nodded earnestly, their faces full of awe. To them, Sylas was no mere wizard; he was a being bordering on divine.
"Go on then, Adam," Mr. Bailey urged. "Open it!"
The room grew quiet again as Adam carefully broke the seal. Inside were two sheets of parchment and a silver badge, engraved with the same crest as the wax seal.
He picked up the badge and turned it over curiously. It was smooth, gleaming, and faintly warm to the touch. Finding nothing else remarkable, he set it down and unfolded the first parchment.
His eyes widened as he read the elegant handwriting aloud:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Lord Sylas Black
Lord of Hogsmeade, Bree, and Isengard; Wizard Supreme; Lord of Dragons; Ogre Nemesis; Troll Slayer; Corpse Reaver.
Dear Mr. Adam Bailey,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Enclosed is a list of the books and equipment required for your first year.
The term begins on September 1st. Please send your reply by owl no later than July 31st.
Deputy Headmaster: Edward
P.S. The enclosed silver badge is a timed Portkey, which will activate at 10:00 a.m. on August 1st to transport you directly to Diagon Alley for your school shopping. Please do not miss the activation time.
Adam blinked in surprise and held up the badge.
"So this badge is a Portkey?" he asked. "But Diagon Alley isn't that far from here. Can't we just walk?"
"Dad, what should we do with it? Do we really have to use this door key to go shopping?"
Mr. Bailey chuckled, realization dawning on his face.
"Ah, so that's why my colleagues at the Portkey Office were working overtime last week!" he said with a laugh, ruffling Adam's hair affectionately.
"Don't worry, son. They must have included a Portkey in every acceptance letter. After all, not everyone lives as close to Diagon Alley as we do."
"Alright, quickly check the other page for what we need to buy so we can prepare in advance."
At his father's words, Adam flattened the second parchment on the table.
The list was long and precise: a black robe, pointed wizard hat, protective gloves, winter cloak, and a full set of textbooks, along with a wand, cauldron, and several other essential magical supplies.
Mr. Bailey glanced over the list and smiled warmly at his family.
"Everything here should be available in Diagon Alley, especially the wands. Adam has always wanted one, hasn't he? We can go a bit early to buy everything before August first. It'll save us from the crowds that day."
At the mention of buying a wand, Adam's eyes lit up with pure excitement.
"Dad, when are we going? Can we go now?"
His enthusiasm made the whole family chuckle, but Mr. Bailey only shook his head with a knowing smile.
He remembered clearly the day he'd first discovered Adam's magical potential. Proud and overjoyed, he had rushed to the local wand shop to buy his son a wand. But the shop's owner, Mr. Bill, had refused him gently, explaining that young children's magic was unstable and that it was best to wait until they were at least eleven or twelve years old.
Ever since then, Adam had waited, not always patiently, for this very moment.
"No, Adam," his father said kindly. "It's too late today. We'll go tomorrow morning and buy everything together. That way, you'll be properly prepared."
Though disappointed, Adam nodded, barely able to contain his anticipation for the next day.
As the family finished dinner and began tidying up, the excitement still hung thick in the air.
Meanwhile, similar scenes were unfolding far and wide.
Throughout Hogsmeade, Bree, Isengard, and even the distant Riverhorse Valley, flocks of snowy owls soared across the twilight sky, delivering Hogwarts acceptance letters to homes large and small.
In the northern lands of the Dúnedain, where stone houses stood amid rolling hills and misty woods, one such owl arrived with a letter sealed in crimson wax.
The family who received it gathered in stunned silence, reading the letter's precise address, which listed their village, their home, and even the name of the room where the recipient was sitting.
For the proud yet cautious Dúnedain people, who had long kept to themselves, this was astonishing.
When they saw the signature of Lord Sylas Black, Wizard Supreme of Weathertop Peak, they were even more bewildered.
The wizard-lord of Weathertop Peak, inviting their children to a school of magic?
They exchanged hesitant glances.
Over the years, the Dúnedain had often witnessed the power of wizards and the marvels that magic could bring to the world. They had seen spells heal wounds, light the dark, and shape the elements themselves.
So when letters from Hogwarts began arriving, many Dúnedain families felt a deep excitement. Their children could finally learn the arts of magic alongside the great wizards of the age.
Yet that joy was tempered with hesitation.
To study at Hogwarts Castle, the grand fortress of the Wizard Lord himself, was no small matter. For a people long cautious of the arcane, it was both an honor and a cause for concern.
Fortunately, their chieftain Aragorn was residing in the ancestral lands at the time. The family who first received a letter made their way to him, seeking his counsel.
Aragorn listened patiently as they explained everything: the letter, the invitation, the crest of the four houses, and the promise of education under Lord Sylas.
A knowing smile crossed his face.
After all, Aragorn was no stranger to Sylas's power. Years ago, he had been gifted a wand personally crafted for him by Sylas himself. Under Sylas's guidance, Aragorn had mastered a fair amount of wizardry, though he rarely used it, preferring sword and will to wand and spell.
Even so, he held the art in deep respect.
"If your children have been chosen," Aragorn said gravely, "then it is not by chance. The Lord Sylas does nothing without purpose. Let them go. Let them learn."
His words settled the matter. The hesitation faded into pride.
In fact, Aragorn was so pleased that he decided to personally escort the Dúnedain children to Diagon Alley, where they could purchase their wands and school supplies before the start of term.
And the wave of acceptance letters did not stop there.
Across Middle-earth, from the Valley of Rivendell to the Golden Woods of Lothlórien, from the forests of Mirkwood to the silver shores of Dolvenian, elven children too received invitations.