Guests of all ages kept arriving one after another.
Thomas burst through the door panting, clutching a beautifully wrapped box.
"Happy birthday, Julien! This is the latest F-16 model! It can fly by remote control for three whole minutes!"
"Thanks, Thomas," Julien said, taking the gift with a smile. "I love it. This is one of the best presents I've received today."
"I knew you would! Mum wanted to get you that 500 Secondary School Algebra Traps book, but I hid it!"
"Oh, thank God," Julien sighed in relief. "You just saved my entire secondary school career."
Just then, a girl with short ash-blonde hair ran over. "Hey, Julien!"
"Hi, Maggie. Thanks for coming to my party."
"Thanks for inviting me," Maggie replied, swaying her hips playfully. Thomas rolled his eyes beside them.
"Here, Julien—this is my present for you." She handed him a long rectangular brown box. "Open it and tell me if you like it."
Julien opened the box. Inside was a Wilson American football with the NFL logo printed on it.
Seeing Julien pause, Maggie quickly added, "What do you think? Don't all you boys love these?"
"Absolutely, Maggie. I love it." Julien smiled. "This is one of the best gifts I've received."
Maggie bounced away happily. Thomas stared at his friend in disbelief.
"Dude, which one is actually the best present?"
"Don't sweat the small stuff, Thomas," Julien patted his shoulder. "As long as everyone's happy."
"No wonder you've only been here six months and already have so many girls after you. By the way, what are you staring at? Waiting for someone?" Thomas followed Julien's gaze toward the window, curious.
A gray, overcast sky. The shadow of a bird flashed past quickly.
"Nothing. Just admiring the view outside," Julien said, looking away.
He added casually, "I just thought today's clouds had a really interesting shape… Hey, did you see an owl fly by just now?"
By the end of the party, Thomas had polished off the last slice of cake and licked the plate clean enough to use as a mirror. Julien started helping his mother Clara clean up the wrapping paper scraps and burst balloons.
As the guests gradually left, Grandma Élodie yawned while pouring the remaining juice down the sink. "Happy birthday, birthday boy! And please stop playing that annoying Losing My Religion song!"
"That's R.E.M.!" Julien protested, but no one paid attention.
Right at that moment—
Tap! Tap! Tap!
Not the door—the window glass was being pecked!
Everyone in the living room froze.
Outside the window, a large gray-brown owl was clawing at the glass, wings flapping wildly and creating a miniature whirlwind. Tied to its leg was a thick letter, the red wax seal gleaming brightly.
"Oh my God! How is there a bird of prey like that in the city center!" Clara exclaimed, grabbing a broom. "Quick, close the window—don't let it in!"
"Wait!" Julien dashed over. "It… it looks like it's delivering mail!"
By now he could clearly see the owl perched outside their window, gripping a thick parchment envelope tightly in its talons.
"Delivering mail?" Altair frowned. "Since when do owls do same-day delivery?"
At that moment, Grandfather Alphard strolled out slowly from behind the sofa, holding a glass of red wine, wearing that familiar "I knew this would happen" mysterious smile.
"Oh darling, don't panic," he said slowly in his lightly French-accented English. "This is my pet from Bordeaux—'Postman Pierre.' I trained him to deliver birthday cards. Romantic, isn't it?"
"You own an owl?" Grandma Élodie narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Since when? Last week you told me you were busy planting roses!"
"Roses and owls," Alphard winked. "We French men are multi-talented." Ever since marrying Grandma, he had proudly declared himself a true Frenchman—even adopting the accent.
He hurried to the window. While no one was looking, he gave a quick flick of the wand hidden in his sleeve. The owl immediately let out a cooperative "Hoot," its eyes turning dull and docile, exactly like a well-trained pet.
"See? Such a good boy!" Alphard opened the window, took the letter, and smoothly slipped it to Julien. Then he pulled a piece of dry bread from his pocket and fed the owl. "Well done, Pierre! Extra worms for you when you get home!"
He then took out a pre-written reply letter from his pocket and attached it to the owl's leg.
The owl rolled its eyes—actually rolled its eyes—but still took the bread and flew off with a flutter. On its way out, it deliberately slammed into a streetlamp with a loud clang, making the neighbors next door poke their heads out to check.
"Alright, alright," Alphard clapped his hands and turned to wink at Julien. "Go open your 'greeting card.' I bet it says something like 'Wishing you a long and happy life.'"
Julien held back his laughter and quickly slipped the letter into his pajama pocket.
His mother was still muttering, "Pets these days are getting stranger and stranger… The neighbor's parrot can even recite multiplication tables now."
"That's because it's been eavesdropping on little Tommy's tutoring lessons downstairs!" Altair explained seriously.
Only Grandma kept staring at Alphard with narrowed eyes. "You're up to something weird again, aren't you?" After decades together, she still knew her husband too well.
Alphard raised his wine glass with an innocent expression. "Me? Darling, what kind of trouble could a winemaker possibly cause?"
"Then how did you turn my roast chicken blueberry-flavored last week?"
"Uh… new seasoning."
Everyone burst into laughter as the remaining guests said their goodbyes.
No one noticed Julien quietly slip back to his room, fingers trembling as he broke the wax seal. Grandfather stood at the doorway with a sly smile, turning back to softly chant toward the others outside:
"Oblivio Praesens."
That night, magic arrived quietly, while the Muggles continued living happily in blissful ignorance.
The parchment had a unique, heavy texture under his fingers. Julien could tell the envelope was made of thick, high-quality sheepskin.
There was no stamp. Written in elegant emerald-green ink were the words:
Mr. Caelum Julien Black
4th Floor, No. 3 Wickham Court
Charing Cross Road, London
The wax seal featured a simple design of a lion, snake, badger, and eagle circling the letter "H."
Julien carefully opened the envelope. The parchment made a soft puff sound, like a satisfied sigh. A few sparkling golden particles drifted out from the gap and vanished instantly.
Inside was the acceptance letter, written on the same parchment in the exact same elegant handwriting:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Black,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Attached was also a detailed list of school requirements and a shopping list containing all the required textbooks, a wand, cauldron, robes, and other magical supplies—along with a train ticket.