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HP Chapter 1: Acceptance Letter
🕑 Added 2025-07-31 06:33:57 +0000 UTCIt was summer. The sun was veiled behind a thin layer of clouds, its light slightly dimmed. Under a large banyan tree, a petite girl with long black hair rested her chin in her palm, lounging on a long wicker chair. Not far from her, a group of children around eight or nine years old were playing boisterously.
Anne sat still, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts.
This all began two days ago.
She had awoken from a long period of darkness, her last memory before that being the moment she was wheeled into an operating room, overwhelmed by bright lights and muffled voices. She’d thought that waking up after such darkness would mean a new life, and it was. Just not in the way she’d expected.
Because she had awakened in an entirely different world.
The first thing she heard was a trembling voice speaking in English, something about pity and kindness. Before the words even finished, a cup of water was pressed to her lips. Her body felt like it had been propped up with a wooden stick, and the oversized transparent glass tipped water into her mouth.
Her blurry vision caught the face of an elderly woman with blond hair. As the cup was pulled away, her gaze drifted from the old woman's face to a white ceiling. Only when the footsteps faded away did she begin to grasp the absurdity of her situation.
On the first day, she was still too weak from the illness and soon fell asleep again. On the second day, just barely able to get out of bed, she was led out by a plump, smiling white woman.
Anne lifted her small, soft hand and let out a long sigh. In her past life, there were so many things she couldn't let go of, her mother, her father, and especially her younger brother, who was eighteen years her junior. Even though she had come to see the fickleness of human nature in her last few months, they were still her family.
She pinched her cheek. The pain was real. She probably wouldn’t be going back.
Looking around again, she noticed a British flag fluttering in front of a white three-story house.
If she wasn’t mistaken, this was England. Probably sometime around the late 1980s.
At breakfast, she had seen the old lady from yesterday sitting beside a black rotary phone in the corner of the hall.
“I’ve read so many transmigration novels, but when it actually happens to me, it really doesn’t feel that great...” Anne muttered. “Well, at least I didn’t end up in some ancient era. This is still the modern world. I guess I’ll just have to accept it.”
Three months later, Anne, no, she supposed she should now be called Anne Reeve, had finally relearned enough English to grasp her situation.
It was 1987 in the United Kingdom.
Her new identity: Anne Laurence Reeve, an orphan who had been sent to the orphanage by relatives.
At age one, Anne’s parents had died in a car accident. By law, she was placed in the care of her uncle, Garnett. Things were fine at first, but when another child joined the family and financial strain set in, the now eight-year-old Anne was sent to an orphanage.
The young Anne, frightened and unable to adapt, had fAaron gravely ill. That illness had taken her, making room for Anne’s soul to arrive.
Upon learning Anne’s story from the chatty old lady Mrs. Allen, Anne felt deep sorrow for the girl. At least in her previous life, she’d known love, even if it was fleeting.
Perhaps it was sympathy. Perhaps it was her own brush with death. Perhaps it was the many thoughts that had weighed on her during those final months. But Anne decided this time, she would try harder.
Back then, she was a mediocre science student, but she’d earned a bachelor's degree in economics and worked in investment banking for two years. With her foresight of global trends in the coming years, she was confident she could go further in this new world.
The Jesk Orphanage was located on the outskirts of London, government-run, covering around a hundred acres with a white three-story building housing over a hundred children. Rooms were allocated by age, children aged 8 to 11 had their own rooms, while those over 11 were sent to boarding school in East London. The younger ones attended the nearby Maria Church Primary School.
Anne spent three years in the orphanage, attending school and dreaming of growing up faster.
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“Anne, wait up!” Jill called out as Anne was just about to leave the classroom.
Anne slowed her steps and glanced back. Jill was hurriedly stuffing books and pens into her bag. “Alright, but you'd better be quick.”
When they reached the stairs, Jill wiped sweat from her brow and threw an arm over Anne’s shoulder, panting. “Couldn’t you wait a little longer?”
Anne pulled Jill’s hand off and gave her a serious look. “Technically, I did wait. Otherwise, I’d already be at the school gate.”
Jill rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine, you win. Here, carry this for me.” She shoved her bag at Anne, then quickly tied her golden hair into a ponytail using a butterfly hair tie.
She shook her head to feel the breeze. “Ah, much better.”
Anne glanced at the sky. The sun had already dipped halfway down the horizon, painting half the sky red. “And you were walking around the classroom with your hair down. It’s summer, you know.”
Jill ruffled Anne’s short black hair. “I know, I know. But long hair’s pretty, okay? I can’t pull off your short-hair look, it’s way too cute.”
As Jill reached out to pinch Anne’s cheek, Anne quickly sidestepped and smacked her hand away. “Hey! Hands off!”
Jill retracted her hand, feigning a hurt look. “I just wanted to give you a friendly squeeze! We’re friends, aren’t we? Your cheeks are as soft as my puppy's.”
Anne’s expression darkened. She turned away and picked up her pace.
That "puppy" was Jill’s newborn dog, Tiny.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I meant it as a compliment! Really! You’re so small and cute, are you sure you’re already eleven?” Jill tried to keep up, but Anne only walked faster.
Back at the orphanage, Anne greeted the busy headmistress, “Mrs. Odette, I’m home.”
The plump woman wiped her hands on her apron, then smiled and nodded. “Oh, Anne, sweet child! You’re back early today. Go ahead to your room, most of the children aren’t back yet.”
Anne smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Odette. I’ll head up now.”
“What a polite little girl…” Mrs. Odette muttered fondly as she turned back to her work. Then, as if remembering something, she picked up a fork and rushed to the stairs. “Anne! You got three letters today! I left them in your room!”
Anne’s head peeked out at the top of the stairs. “Letters? What?”
“Oh yes, dear, three of them! One’s from St. Edmund's School, probably your application results! And another… from some academy?” she called excitedly.
Anne’s head quickly ducked out of sight. “Thank you!” came a shout, followed by a storm of footsteps pounding upstairs.
Mrs. Odette chuckled to herself. “Oh, Anne’s growing up… St. Edmund's School. That’s such a good school…”
Anne burst into her room, dropped her bag on the bed, and rushed to her desk.
There they were: a white envelope with the St. Edmund's School emblem, and two smaller grayish-yellow envelopes.
She picked up the white one, ran her fingers over the school crest, pinched the quality paper, then turned it over to the seal, only to hesitate just as she was about to tear it open.
Reading aloud, slowly and clearly, she said, “To Anne Reeve, Jesk Orphanage, Beckenham, London. From: St. Edmund's School, London.”
“I finally got it. All those efforts these past three years weren’t for nothing. The best public school in London. If I can study there, maybe… maybe I can even get into Oxford or Cambridge. Once that happens, I’ll be free from this place…”
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the clutter aside and laid the envelope flat on the desk. Sitting properly, she carefully used a ruler to open the seal and unfolded the letter inside.
When she reached the line: "Congratulations, you have been accepted to St. Edmund's School," she leapt to her feet, knocking over the chair.
Waving the letter in the air, she laughed out loud. “Haha! I can finally leave the orphanage! I’m free!”
After all, she was an adult soul in a sea of children. Living the same routine every day, school, orphanage, was exhausting, even for someone as patient as her. Now, she finally had a way to take charge of her life.
She neatly folded the acceptance letter back into the envelope and placed it in her drawer, then picked up one of the gray-yellow envelopes.
“Huh? Who else would write to me? Could it be Uncle Garnett?”
The envelope had only her name on it.
But hadn’t her uncle already abandoned her?
Puzzled, she flipped it over. There, sealed with red wax, was a crest she vaguely recognized.
“Who still uses wax seals in this era? And this emblem… I swear I’ve seen it before. Maybe on TV?”
Inside were two thick sheets of folded parchment. With even more confusion, Anne opened one.
And froze.
In elegant script, it read:
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Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Miss Reeve,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A list of required books and equipment is enclosed. An owl will arrive at your mailbox on July 25, 1990, to await your reply.
Her hand trembled. Her breathing quickened.
“This… this has to be a joke. What is this?!”
Anne snatched the envelope and examined the red wax seal again.
Then, without thinking, she shouted, “Harry Potter!??”
