Five year old Anna Stevens ran hurriedly to her mother, who was working in the kitchen.
“Mommy, guess what!” she said excitedly.
“What, honey?” asked her mother, looking away from the pasta she was prepping to her curly haired daughter, who was now bobbing up and down with excitement.
“I can make a flower fly! Look!” Anna replied. She held her palm outstretched in front of her, and place a little daisy on it. “It’ll fly now,” she said, and stared at the flower resolutely.
“It isn’t flying,” she said, dejected, after a moment. “Why isn’t it flying? It did before!”
“Anna, honey, flowers don’t fly by themselves; it was the wind that was carrying it. You were playing outside, weren’t you? And there is a lot of wind out there,” her mother consoled her. “Wash up now, it’s almost dinner time.”
That seemed plausible to Anna and the matter ended there.
Anna Stevens, aged seven, was sitting by the lake side, on a picnic cloth, next to her parents. There was quite the feast in the picnic basket, jam sandwiches, cupcakes and apple juice. They ate the sandwiches and drank the juice, leaving the cupcakes for later. Anna’s parents lay down on the grass, while Anna played near the shore of the lake. As she skipped back towards her parents, she saw three boys lingering around their picnic basket. Oblivious to her parents, one of the boys picked up the cupcakes and they made a run for it.
“Stop! Give that back!” yelled Anna, running after them. Almost immediately, all three boys tripped and fell over, and Anna retrieved the cupcakes, threw them a scowl and walked away.
“Why did you fall?” said one, angrily.
“I don’t know, it was like someone held my leg.” said the other.
“Don’t make things up, it’s a flat surface, you’re just clumsy” said the third.
Anna, however, just thought she’d been lucky that they fell.
At age ten, Anna Stevens was really angry. She wanted to go play with her friends but her mother wouldn’t let her. She knew she had homework to do, but a game of football is far more important, and her mother just wouldn’t understand.
“I can do it later! It’s only some math!” she argued.
“No Anna, you need to finish off your homework before you go to play. We had decided this, hadn’t we? Go to your room now!” her mother reprimanded her.
“NO!” Anna yelled, “Let me go!”
The vase on the mantelpiece next to them shattered out of the blue, shards of glass were strewn all over. Anna looked both, dazed and afraid, for a moment, and then apologized to her mother and went quietly to her room. Not quite understanding what had just happened, her mother proceeded to clear the broken glass.
Neither of them had noticed the little red sparks that emerged from Anna’s fingertips.
Everything, however, became a lot clearer when a letter arrived on Anna Stevens’ eleventh birthday.
“Dear Miss Stevens,” it began, “We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…”
(This post is in reply to this writing prompt by The Daily Post.)