"Three months. A whole three months! Did you hurriedly call me over just to show me blank manuscript paper?"
Andrew's beard trembled with anger as he held a roll of empty parchment, looking as if he wanted to smack it against the nearest wall.
The boy sitting across from him kept his head down, absently playing with a small glass bottle and watching sand flow from one side to the other like a miniature hourglass.
"Sterling Page!"
Andrew glared at the messy brown hair before him, trying desperately to contain his mounting frustration. He grabbed his teacup and took a large gulp to calm himself.
"Editor... I need inspiration..."
Sterling shook his head slowly. It wasn't that he was deliberately delaying the manuscript, but without proper inspiration, the words he wrote wouldn't even pass his own standards. Right now, all his attempts were crumpled up in his wastebasket.
"Then why did you call me here? You can't be just wasting my time, right?"
Andrew was genuinely angry now. Just moments ago, Sterling had called him with urgent excitement, practically begging him to come over immediately. From that cheerful tone, Andrew had been certain the long-awaited manuscript was finally complete! But when he arrived, there was absolutely nothing.
"Sir, do you know about magic?"
"Of course I do. If you need magical inspiration, I can visit the bookstore and see if there are any fairy tale collections I haven't given you yet..."
"Not magic from books."
"What? You mean..."
Andrew watched in stunned silence as the glass bottle in Sterling's hand began to shimmer and transform into a crisp white envelope. His entire body trembled, and he nearly dropped his teacup onto the wooden floor.
"Did you learn some magic tricks from a traveling circus? Your sleight of hand is quite impressive..."
Andrew still looked completely incredulous. Sterling casually tossed the envelope upward, and mid-flight it transformed into a brilliant blue butterfly that gracefully landed on Andrew's shoulder.
"It's real magic."
"Ah... yes, yes, of course it is. It can only be that kind of magic..."
Andrew looked as if he'd been struck by lightning. He shakily lowered himself onto the worn sofa, closed his eyes tightly, and finally released a long, shuddering breath.
"So... did you receive your acceptance letter from Hogwarts?"
Sterling lifted his head, and his eyes seemed to sparkle with an inner light. Andrew recognized that expression immediately. Curiosity.
"Editor, are you also a wizard? Why have I never seen you conjure rabbits or doves with magic?"
"I... I can't really be called a wizard..."
Andrew chose his words extremely carefully. He was struggling to figure out how to explain the concept of being a Squib to a young wizard who knew nothing about the magical world.
The truth was, Andrew didn't know much about the wizarding world either. After being identified as a Squib, his parents had sent him away to live with his Muggle relatives. He'd been separated from the magical world for decades. He'd even convinced himself he'd forgotten all about magic.
Until Sterling performed what looked exactly like a Transfiguration spell, Andrew realized he had never truly forgotten magic. His longing for that world still burned deep inside him.
Andrew swallowed hard. He desperately didn't want to reveal his identity as a Squib. It was a wound that had never properly healed.
"Editor, do you know what Hogwarts is like?"
Sterling noticed Andrew's uncomfortable silence. Being naturally perceptive, he quickly changed the subject to something that seemed safer for his guardian.
"It's the only wizarding school in Britain and the finest in the world... Every year it sends acceptance letters to qualified young witches and wizards. Yes, children who are eleven years old, those who've experienced magical incidents..."
Sterling tilted his head, studying Andrew with a hint of lingering regret in his expression. He couldn't help thinking that he must have missed out on attending that legendary school at the proper age.
"By the way, Sterling, how did you know that I... that I have any connection to the wizarding world?"
Andrew only thought to ask this now. He'd been away from the magical world for so long. What had made Sterling suspect he knew anything about magic?
"Magical energy?" Sterling sounded uncertain, as if testing the words. "There's something different flowing through your body, just like me, and just like a few unusual people I spotted around Charing Cross Road."
"Magical energy... You must be an extraordinarily gifted young wizard."
At least, within Andrew's limited knowledge of the wizarding world, nothing quite like this had ever happened before. His parents certainly hadn't possessed such abilities. They couldn't see magical energy with the naked eye.
The butterfly fluttered back to Sterling's outstretched hand and gently folded back into the crisp letter.
"Then I'll write back to... Professor McGonagall. Editor, can you take me to buy the supplies I'll need?"
Andrew shook his head regretfully. "I'm afraid that's not possible. Like I explained, I can't really be called a wizard. I only know about the magical world as it existed decades ago. It wouldn't be wise for me to guide you there."
"However, I do remember that young wizards from Muggle families always have professors assigned to help them purchase their school supplies. You'll definitely have that kind of support."
"And remember to bring enough money! Wizarding currency isn't pounds. You'll need to exchange your money for Galleons and Sickles... I hope I'm remembering those currency names correctly..."
"Oh, alright," Sterling said with obvious disappointment. He'd really hoped Andrew could accompany him on this adventure. After all, they'd been together for quite some time now.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have immediately called Andrew over right after receiving his Hogwarts letter. To Sterling, their relationship wasn't simply that of a young writer and his middle-aged editor. It felt almost like family.
In fact, Andrew was legally Sterling's guardian now. But due to Sterling's personal preferences, they maintained separate living arrangements most of the time.
"Oh blast, I have a meeting at noon..."
Glancing at his pocket watch, Andrew suddenly leaped up from his chair and began hastily packing his belongings. Sterling helpfully tidied up the scattered papers and organized Andrew's briefcase.
Actually, Andrew wasn't truly in such a desperate hurry, but Sterling understood that his guardian needed time alone to process this overwhelming reality.
Andrew felt completely overwhelmed by this rapid succession of revelations. He hadn't even fully registered the miraculous fact that Sterling could effortlessly transform a letter into a living butterfly and back again, all before even starting his first year at Hogwarts.
BANG!
The door slammed shut with finality, leaving Sterling completely alone in the room surrounded by towering bookshelves. He stared down at the acceptance letter, reading it over and over again.
"Galleons... Sickles... Galleons?"
Sterling slowly clenched his fist, then gently opened his palm. After a brief swirl of silvery mist dissipated, an ancient gold coin rested in his hand.
This particular coin was called a Galleon.
It was a precious souvenir Sterling had brought back from one of his extraordinary magical dreams.
Ring, ring, ring... ring, ring, ring...
The sudden telephone ringing startled Sterling so badly he nearly dropped the valuable Galleon. He quickly pressed his palms together, releasing a small puff of glittering mist, and the coin vanished completely.
"Sterling Page, I sincerely hope you won't abandon your fairy tale writing just because you're going to Hogwarts?"
Andrew's anxious voice crackled through the receiver. Sterling couldn't help but smile at his guardian's concern.
"Of course not. As long as I'm still dreaming, my fairy tales will continue to be written..."
"Actually, I'm genuinely looking forward to discovering what kind of inspiration the magical world's own fairy tales will bring me and what incredible new stories I'll dream up there."
Andrew breathed an audible sigh of relief through the phone. He certainly didn't want London's most promising new bestselling author to suddenly disappear from the literary world. He was also one of Sterling's most devoted readers.
"Excellent... The Tales of Beedle the Bard—I believe that's the most famous fairy tale collection in the wizarding world. When I was small, my parents used to read me bedtime stories from it."
"Perfect. When the professor takes me shopping, I'll definitely buy a copy to read."
Sterling hung up the telephone and immediately dove into the towering mountain of manuscript papers covering his desk. Soon, the entire surface was in complete chaos.
"Found it."
He pulled out an oil painting depicting a massive emerald dragon coiled around a towering spire that stretched up into the clouds, all set against a dark forest of twisted thorns.
This was the one. The story that had started everything.
Sterling stared intently at the dragon wrapped around the tower, with its elegant curved horns and sleek, powerful body.
That magnificent creature was Lady Maleficent.
She had given Sterling that precious Galleon during one of his dream visits. It was treasure from a dragon, a gift from the witch who could transform into a dragon, a sacred symbol of their unusual friendship.
Sterling carefully picked up the painting, deciding he would sleep with it beside his pillow tonight.
He desperately wanted to see his extraordinary friend again and ask if she knew anything about the real magical world he was about to enter.