True or False.

An all-or-nothing kind of answer. You get one shot at full credit or receive a 0%. Yet the statement seems to fit both or neither. You kinda know, but not really. And you kinda care, but not really. There are only two choices. It already seems like an impossible feat.

I.O.I’s Doyeon x Yoojung, featuring Somi & Sohye and OCs

There is a fine line between individuality and abnormality. Some people strive to make themselves different from the crowd. They want to stand out, be noticed, be praised. They want to be everything, yet nothing like the rest. And then there are those who would do anything to be average, to be normal. They’re too different. Or different in the wrong ways. They stick out like a sore thumb, they’re constantly noticed, and are always being put down for it. They want to hide. They would give anything to be just like the rest, and some do.

There is a fine line between individuality and abnormality. Doyeon has been teetering on that line for so long, she wonders which side she will tip over. She waits for someone to tell her.

~|~|~|~

Doyeon is rather tall for her age. She towers nearly half a foot over most of her class. Some of the boys can meet her gaze and for that reason alone, they feel it’s “bro-worthy.” On the other hand, the socially-constructed art of being female requires more subtly. Girls have to crane their necks up at her when she talks, smiling amicably enough. Yet their not-so-subtle gawking and side glances scream volumes. They never say she would look more feminine if she were shorter, but the vibe gets across just fine. It’s not too difficult to fill in the blanks.

Doyeon is also quite lanky. What with the hormones and preservatives put into food nowadays, some kids hit puberty pretty early. That means everyone is painfully aware of their body image, albeit some are more skewed than others. Guys start working extra hard to be good at sports, building what muscle a middle-schooler could build in P.E. Girls start dressing up in pretty clothes and wearing make-up to accentuate their cheekbones (read: cover their acne).

Locker rooms are where things get unintentionally personal. Girls tell Doyeon they envy her metabolism—she never does seem to gain weight. But she also hears comments about body curves. They don’t say it like it’s a competition. It sounds more like an unofficial standard, and Doyeon feels she just doesn’t meet the requirements. So occasionally, she thinks she should put on some weight. Or work out. Or both. In the right places. And maybe cut down on her sleep because there’s only so much of her height she can conceal.

She stares hard at the magnetic mirror on her locker door, examining herself. Her high-definition scrutinizing expression blurs from the bottom-up. The reflection of her eyebrows furrows in confusion before there’s no more visibility. The mirror is a translucent white, as if it was foggy. She reaches up to wipe the edge with her thumb, but there’s no condensation. She realizes the fog looks like it’s inside the mirror, blocking her reflection’s view instead of hers. The bell rings so Doyeon puts this nonsense out of of her mind. She slams her locker shut, secures the lock, and heads to class. The mirror stays murky for every class after that, even though the girl next to her sees herself clearly.

One day, she is called to the school’s office during lunch. She sees her parents waiting for her, sitting on cushioned chairs that don’t match the carpet or wallpaper. At this point, Doyeon expects it. But she doesn’t like the feeling any more than usual.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kim, I think Doyeon should transfer schools. These are some places that would better suit her.” The counselor slides some pamphlets across the desk. “We always have our students’ best interests at heart, but this school simply doesn’t have the programs that would be beneficial for your daughter. Unfortunately, our faculty can’t offer the attention she needs, what with the sheer amount of students enrolled.”

It doesn’t feel like she’s being kicked out. Rather, it’s as if someone was searching for perfectly ripe apples at a grocery store. The unappealing ones just kind of, get pushed off to the side.

And what if those places think I should go somewhere else? Where else is there left to go? What if they say I just shouldn’t go anywhere?

Doyeon doesn’t realize she’s staring hard at the pamphlets until a corner of one starts smoking. The folds peel back slowly as the glowing orange line singes more of the paper. The counselor notices before it sets off the smoke detector and shoves the pamphlet into her mug of cold tea. She gapes at it, flabbergasted, for a few seconds before apologizing profusely. She stutters out an explanation, blaming it on an exposed wire from the telephone on the desk that she’s been meaning to get fixed. The lady continues the conversation, but Doyeon notices the phone is unplugged. She looks back at her parents listening intently to what options they have to help their daughter. There’s a slow burning ache deep within her chest.

Her parents have to get back to work after the meeting. They don’t say anything about new schools. They don’t comment on her grades or the teacher’s notes written on the report. They don’t even look angry. They look at her with understanding, but she knows they’re panicking on the inside. She knows that they have no idea what’s going on with their daughter nor what to do about it. And to be honest, Doyeon doesn’t quite know herself. They give her some encouraging words, a hug or two, and tell her they’ll make her favorite chicken dish for dinner.

After school, she deliberately misses her bus and opts to walk home. It’s a nice day, the sun’s out but it’s not too hot. This kind of thing usually cheers people up. But she doesn’t feel much different than three hours ago. At most, everything feels duller, but not better or brighter. She figures if she can’t stop thinking about her problems, she might as well try to rationalize some of them.

Her grades are poor, that’s a fact. The odd thing is, Doyeon has a perfect understanding of what she learns in class. She can do all of her math problems without referencing her notes. She’s pretty good with names and dates, so history isn’t much of a nuisance either. It’s at this age as well that students begin mastering the art of BS in literature class. Essays are little more than curriculum checklist items, contrary to what teachers say.

So what exactly was the problem? Motivation? Hmm, not exactly, she thinks.

Distractions. Not text messages, Facebook feed updates, or shiny things outside the window. “Zoning out” doesn’t describe it properly either. She was inwardly distracted. Reflecting on it now, it sometimes felt like she had too many thoughts. They would all jumble together, cancel each other out, or fight for dominance. And it ends up clouding her judgment. Other times her mind went blank. Anything and everything felt irrelevant. No thoughts wanted her attention, so she didn’t give any. It was never noticeable until now. Somewhere along the way, she just lost focus. Then the amount of points she’s lost on assignments started piling up.

So here she is, walking home in the pouring rain that mirrors her inner turmoil. Wait, what?

Doyeon looks up to find that it is in fact raining, but not everywhere. It’s only raining over her. But that’s impossible, she thinks. She inspects at her surroundings, half expecting to have walked right under a filming set’s rain machine by accident. But she’s in the middle of an empty park. She clearly sees the bright blue sky. The wooden playground in the distance looks dry as a bone. She checks behind her. There’s a long streak of wet, darkened concrete leading up to her current position. She walks a bit further and turns back to observe. The streak seems to have ended at the giant puddle she was standing in before. The only thing after it is a set of her footprints. Bewildered, Doyeon walks home under the shining sun, her clothes soaked and her hair dripping at the tips.

For the first time in a while, she has only one clear thought. She’s losing her balance on that line, and the slope she’s peering down isn’t exactly a confidence booster.

~|~|~|~

Doyeon’s parents figure the family should have a nice, long talk. Well, it is nice, really simple actually, though quite short. They ask how she feels about the situation. She shrugs back, honest but not rude. Frustrated? Gloomy? Ecstatic? Desire for change? Desire for constancy? Everything jumbles up as per usual and she ends up feeling nothing. Her parents hesitantly decide to go through with transferring schools. She doesn’t object.

A week later, the paperwork is all set. Beginning next term, she’ll attend the school on the other side of town. She doesn’t tell anyone, there’s no one to tell anyway. Every morning and evening she sees the worry etched on her parents’ faces. She figures the least she could do was try. So she pulls three all-nighters a week for the rest of the month and aces her finals, much to her teacher’s surprise. When she brings her last grade report home, her parents seem to glow.

“I knew you had it in you, sweetheart. This is going to be a great new start for you, I can feel it.”

She forgets about herself, because all she can think about for the rest of the night is how proud her parents are. As she falls asleep, at peace for once, she doesn’t see the garden box outside her windowsill sprout three fully grown flowers, the tendrils of their stems lacing together tightly.

Summer break starts out calmly. Doyeon doesn’t have much to do so she walks around the park by herself. Kids climb all over the jungle gym. Parents push their toddlers on the swings as they exchange neighborhood happenings. The high school students occasionally take over the basketball court. She walks past two kids trying to juggle capsule machine rubber balls. One bounces away into the nearby shrubs so Doyeon offers to retrieve it for them. She pushes aside the thorny branches, not minding the scratches along her arms. She spies the little ball a few feet away, its bright silver paint contrasting with the organic black-brown of the soil. She kneels to pick it up, but tumbles backward in shock when an owl swoops down and snatches the toy with its beak. Her hand scrapes against the exposed roots of a bush in an attempt to break her fall.

She ignores the pain and stares up at the owl now perched in a tree. She lifts her foot to start climbing the trunk when she hears rustling leaves and a gasp behind her. Turning around, she comes face to face with a girl. Well, more like face to chest. The stranger is rather short, even considering Doyeon’s exceptional height. The girl’s eyes snap up to a point somewhere near Doyeon’s nose bridge, flickers to the owl, and then back at her. The girl opens but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she points at the owl and then at Doyeon with a questioning look.

She glances at the owl too. “The ball?” The girl nods. “Y-yeah, it’s mine. Or, well, I need it,” she tries to clarify.

The girl walks to the base of the tree and holds out her arm expectantly. To Doyeon’s astonishment, the owl flutters down to the human perch and drops the ball into the girl’s hand. Doyeon takes the toy offered to her. Before she can retract her hand though, the girl grabs her wrist, turning it over so that her forearm rotates and her palm faces up. The girl scrunches up her face, seemingly in pain herself.

“They’re just scratches. I’m not bleeding out,” Doyeon assures with a light tone.

The girl lets go and moves the owl to her shoulder. From her pocket, she pulls out what looks like something from a 19th century chemistry set. She hesitantly looks up for permission. Is she going to drug me? Doyeon mentally questions. She scrutinizes the brown substance swirling inside the angular pointed bottle. Then again, she looks to be around the same age as Doyeon, and what eleven-year-old carries suspicious liquids in their pockets? Deciding that there’s little risk involved, Doyeon holds her arm out. The bottle tips forward, its contents dripping over the scratches and the gash on her open palm. The girl bites her lip and her eyes flicker to each wound, as if waiting for something. Doyeon’s eyes widen comically as she witnesses the wounds immediately sealing themselves and fading away under new skin. The girl smirks up at her, but then their eyes meet and her head snaps down to the ground bashfully.

“What sorcery is this?” Doyeon laughs, amazed and grateful for the impromptu medical help.

But the girl isn’t laughing. She’s actually staring straight into Doyeon’s eyes. She’s realized something—something very important. Doyeon doesn’t know what though. Was this too sensitive of a topic?

“H-hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be offensive or anything. Is “magic” one of those taboo concepts?” Doyeon looks at the girl with worry. “I m-mean, it’s not real. It was only a joke, but I’m sorry—”

The girl shakes her head furiously at the apology. In fact, she looks like she was the one who said something offensive. She seems more worried than Doyeon.

An awkward silence befalls them. Doyeon digs the tip of her shoe into the dirt, trying to think of something to say. “So, um, what’s your name?” The girl opens , but nothing comes out. Her breathing seems to get louder and quicker in the secluded area.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.” Doyeon fears the girl might have a panic attack, so she doesn’t ask anything else. Holding up the ball, she says, “I better give this back to the kids over there. It was nice meeting you. And thank you for…” She gestures at her own arm, now peppered with light pink marks. She waves to the girl, turning towards the opening between the bushes.

Before she makes it out in the open, something slams into the back of her head. She turns around in alarm, only to see the owl flying towards the tree. It uses its feet to rebound off the trunk and swerves off to the left. The girl has disappeared from the clearing, Doyeon assumes in the direction the owl went. She turns back and walks up to the spot the owl touched.

Doyeon smiles, it’s genuine. There’s no one else around, nobody is talking, nobody is staring, so she doesn’t have to be polite or act friendly. But she smiles anyway because she wants to. The muscles in her face are starting to ache from disuse and she couldn’t care less. She picks up a sharp rock from the bushes and digs it into the bark. Satisfied with her work, she finally walks out of the shrubbery. The two kids see her coming and cheer in thanks as she hands them the fugitive ball.

The sun begins its descent as the afternoon passes into the evening. Light breaks through the branches and leaves at just the right angle. For a few minutes, it illuminates two words scratched into a tree. One is neatly carved straight across and evenly spaced, as if engraved with utmost precision. The one below it is scrawled hastily, letters jagged, and curves down a bit at the end.

Yoojung

Doyeon

~|~|~|~

One morning in early July, Doyeon’s parents ask her to buy some groceries before they get home from work. On her way out the door, she hears loud bangs and sees blue smoke billowing from a house down the street and around the corner on her right. There’s a loud crack from her left, but she thinks it’s just the aftershock of whatever is going on. She ignores the ruckus and continues down the path to the sidewalk. A man dressed in a casual suit and a long black coat hastily walks past her, shoving something into his pocket but keeping it within his grasp. They exchange greetings before he rushes off towards the source of the noise. Doyeon hopes it wasn’t his house in trouble. She also thinks it’s much too hot to be wearing a coat, but to each his own.

She walks a few blocks towards the main street and into the giant mart. The left side holds all house necessities, the right half displays all of the food items. She browses through the vast selection of fresh produce—it seems like this store sells some 101 varieties, local and imported, much more than anyone cares to notice despite being perfectly ripe and in season. She chooses a good eleven or so vegetables for dinner and avoids the apples. There’s some leftover portions of meat in the fridge so she skips the butcher counter. We’re out of cereal though, so she grabs a brand that’s on sale, two-for-one. Examining the drink section, she grabs a refrigerated bottle of coffee. She could use a pick-me-up.

Moving towards the cashiers, she habitually glances down each aisle. She stops in her tracks at the sight of a familiar short girl reaching for a jar of owl pellets one shelf too high for her. Doyeon moves forward to help but a kid crashes into her thigh at top speed. Doyeon loses her balance a bit and her basket falls to the floor, groceries clattering everywhere. The kid simultaneously rebounds from hitting her leg and tumbles back onto his rear, tears starting to pool at the corner of his eyes. She helps him stand up, checking for injuries as his mother comes running over while apologizing. Doyeon assures her it’s alright. The mother lifts up her son and walks back to her shopping cart, placing him safely in the seat.

Doyeon looks back at the empty pet food aisle. Slightly dejected, she bends down to pick up her groceries, but everything is already neatly packed in her basket like Tetris pieces. She places her items on the nearest conveyor belt. The line moves forward and the worker tells her the total cost. As she waits for her change, she notices the bagger place a pack of assorted sweets with her groceries.

“Excuse me, I don’t think that’s one of mine,” she says politely.

“A previous customer paid for it and said to give it to you,” the cashier explains, counting out bills.

“Oh.” She looks around, hoping to catch a glimpse of them. “Do you remember who it was?” she asks.

“A small girl. Actually she didn’t really say anything, she just paid, handed it to me, and pointed at you. She left before I could ask or refuse.” The worker hands her the change.

“Thank you for shopping with us. Have a good day!” The bagger says, handing her the packed groceries.

Doyeon thanks them and loops her hands through the bag handles. She takes a shortcut through the park and is relieved to feel the warm sun on her face instead of spontaneous rain.

She glances down the street where houses around the corner would be. The neighborhood is quiet and there are only light wisps of smoke drifting away into the sky. Whatever happened that morning must have been dealt with. She trudges up the path to her house and stops at the postbox, the flap ajar with envelopes peeking out. She sets down the groceries to empty the box. Most of them are bills, statements, or promotional pamphlets. The two at the bottom of the stack are addressed to her. The first envelope is plain white and has the logo of the school she enrolled in for the upcoming term. It’s probably a notice of policies and her class schedule. The second, however, is thicker and yellow, reminiscent of older times. Her fingers graze over a wax seal with a coat of arms. How old-fashioned, she thinks. But she admits it is classy in a sense. She turns it over in her hands.

“Miss D. Kim…” She reads slowly, the deep emerald ink shining in the sunlight. She nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears a loud gasp behind her. She turns around in alarm, her bony arms raised up in defense, the envelope scrunching up in her balled fist. She lowers them slightly when she sees the man wearing the suit and coat from earlier, panting heavily but smiling. He looks at the envelope, then back up at her.

“You’ve got a letter! Oh, your parents must be so proud. I bet they can’t wait to get your supplies!” The man says excitedly, still panting.

He huffs and bends over, supporting his weight with his hands on his knees. When he finally catches his breath, he straightens up and fixes his shirt and tie.

Doyeon, on the other hand, sees red flags and hears warning bells. Who is this lunatic and should she be calling the police? The man seems to realize he was being too forward for social norms.

“Oh, Merlin! Pardon me, where are my manners. I am Lunarius Choi, Obliviator for the Ministry.” He seemed to be close to passing out, whether from exhaustion or enthusiasm, Doyeon didn’t know.

“Hi…” She looks at the hand held out to her, but doesn’t take it. The man seems to deflate at her wariness and slowly lowers his arm. His eyebrows furrow in thought, finally reaching a conclusion.

“You… You’re a Mugg— I mean, you don’t know about… about magic, do you? Ever heard of Hogwarts?” He asks hesitantly.

There’s a hint of familiarity in the way he looks at Doyeon with trepidation, how he’s careful with his behavior now that he’s calm.

Doyeon doesn’t think she should be speaking with this man. She thinks she should abandon her groceries, run inside, and call the authorities to take this stranger away. But she stays rooted to her spot and shakes her head in reply. Understanding flashes across the man’s eyes.

“Ah,” he says, his shoulders relaxing. “I apologize, I must have frightened you quite a bit.” 

Doyeon nods slightly, eyes unblinking and focused. The man seems like much less of a threat now, but her knees remain bent, legs ready to take off down the street if she needs to escape.

“Um, well, where do I even begin?” He sighs, scratching his head. “There’s quite a bit to explain, but I presume you won’t bother to listen to some strange old coot on the street, would you?” He asks rhetorically, giving Doyeon a defeated smile.

She gestures in silent agreement. A few moments pass before he makes a proposition.

“How about this? You open that letter, and I will recite it word for word except for your name. And if I can do this, you’ll accept my business card. You won’t have to ever see or talk to me again if you don’t want to, but at least take the card.” He holds up a small rectangular paper.

Doyeon sees an embossed M in the corner, the words “Ministry of Magic” encircling it. Below it is a larger, red logo with “DM” and “AC” on either side of what looks like two paperclips interlinked. Her silence prompts the man, Mr. Choi, to hold his hands up in surrender. He slowly places the card on top of her postbox before backing away a few steps, ensuring Doyeon has plenty of personal space. She agrees, still not saying a word, still ready to run at any sudden movements. She opens the envelope, taking out the thick parchment. She raises the letter up to where she can read it while keeping an eye on the man over the edge of the paper. The rest of the post blocks the back of the letter so the words don’t show through. Mr. Choi smiles gratefully and takes a deep breath.

“Dear…” He dips his head in Doyeon’s direction, but it looks more like a small bow. “We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

The man reads aloud dramatically, not making a single mistake. When he finishes, Doyeon realizes her eyes are as wide as saucers and he chuckles at her speechlessness. He gestures kindly towards the business card. She takes it.

“Magic—” Something catches in .

“Is real, my dear,” he finishes softly. “And it runs through your veins, it’s in everything you do and are.” His eyes twinkle at Doyeon, as if he was proudly looking at his own child.

“May I show you something?”

He doesn’t wait for her response, but she doesn’t object anyway. He picks up a rock and looks up and down the street. Seeing nobody on the road or peeking out of their windows, he pulls a stick out of the depths of his pocket. The wood is a handsome dark shade, smooth except for the handle where a shiny metal casing swirls around the base. The hilt has an engraving, but Doyeon can’t read it clearly.

“This is a wand. Every witch and wizard chooses one. Rather, it chooses— Well, I’m getting ahead of myself,” he laughs. “Don’t blink now.”

Mr. Choi holds the rock in his open palm and taps it once with his wand. Doyeon gasps and steps back in surprise when the rock transforms into a beautiful peach and pearl colored conical seashell. He smiles triumphantly, concluding he has persuaded the girl enough to consider not handing over his business card to the “police” as evidence. He offers the shell to her personally this time and she takes it willingly, nodding her head in thanks since she’s still tongue-tied.

“Well, I best be off now. I’m working overtime as is, and my family should be expecting me soon. I do hope you’ll consider contacting me, of course with your parents’ permission. I’d be more than happy to explain everything, save the school staff some time. Word at the Ministry— er, at work, is that there’s a much greater portion of students like yourself this year, who have never heard of magic. They’ll have their hands full for the better part of the month. We can arrange a meeting somewhere public, your family and mine. My own daughter will be attending Hogwarts in September as well. But if you choose not to, someone should come along soon enough and explain everything.”

He sticks his hand out once again, still maintaining some distance. Doyeon risks the chance and shakes his hand firmly. With a wide fatherly smile, Mr. Choi bows and waves goodbye. He walks to the middle of the street before turning on the spot and disappearing with a resounding crack. 

Doyeon’s head is reeling from the encounter. She stares at the empty road in awe when her watch beeps on the hour. She returns to her senses and gathers up the groceries to bring inside. After storing everything in the kitchen and discarding the post on the living room table, she runs upstairs to her room with her two letters.

She tears open the envelope from her new school. It looks awfully plain and administrative compared to the Hogwarts letter. Everything is printed in black laser jet ink, the envelope is a sterile white with a very 2D stamp pasted on the corner. Included is a welcome letter, an emergency contact sheet, and a schedule. Doyeon tosses them to the side disinterestedly and picks up the yellow envelope. Pulling the contents out, a small card flutters to the floor. She reaches for it and reads out loud.

Ministry of Magic

Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes

Obliviator Headquarters

Mr. Lunarius Choi, Senior Obliviator

Obliviator. He introduced himself as one and said he was working overtime. So he was called to deal with that noise and smoke in the morning? That involved magic of some sort, so close to home? Doyeon wonders. If things like this happened so often that there is a job just for dealing with them, why hadn’t she noticed anything before? But then she guesses it’s because there’s a job for it that she’s never noticed anything before.

She puts the card aside and looks at the Hogwarts letter. It’s straightforward and just as generic as the other school letter, but this has much better aesthetics in Doyeon’s opinion. Or it could just be the magical energetic stranger that came with it. She brings the second piece of parchment to the front. It’s a list of school supplies unlike any she had received before. She needed robes instead of a P.E. uniform and a wand (obviously). Instead of a chemistry textbook and novels for literature class, she had to buy guides for Potions and Transfiguration. And there were gloves made of dragon hide? Half of these things she’s never heard of, the other half she never thought existed outside of storybooks or museums.

Doyeon considers the situation. Could this be legitimate? There was a whole school for teaching kids magic, real magic, because they were somehow born with exceptional power. They were different, and recruited—wanted—because of it. But how does Doyeon fit into that? As far as she knows, she’s never done anything remotely magical, mystical, fantastic, or—

Strange. Strange things have most definitely occurred to Doyeon. Small instances that were peculiar. Events that only she acknowledged because whenever she asked for someone else’s opinion, they didn’t think anything was out of the ordinary. Or the sheer fact that anything deemed nearly impossible is accepted to be just that, impossible. And so, most people put the impossible out of their minds. Until reality shakes the ground and it becomes very possible.

The man was real. She had his business card after all. The shell was real, too. Doyeon had personally observed the rock expanding and morphing colors and textures into the shell currently sitting on her desk. And the man had disappeared into thin air, literally. There were no concealing curtains, no trap doors installed into the city-owned pavement. There wasn’t even a sewer lid below him. Perhaps he isn’t crazy, perhaps all of this is just as possible as… as she wants it to be.

She picks up the card again, fingers grazing over the raised lettering. Doyeon never asks her parents for anything. She never expresses a desire to do anything. She is never the first to bring something up. But this…

Doyeon sees an opportunity to clamber back up the dividing wall, to balance on that line again, and maybe look over the other side if she dares. The front door unlocks and her parents’ voices float up the stairs. She’ll take her chances.

~|~|~|~

After dinner, everything becomes chaotic. Her parents refuse to meet with some strange man and opt to call the police. Doyeon frantically collects all of the phones in the house and throws them under the couch, blocking her parents’ path with her long, lanky arms. She begs them for a chance to explain the situation. Her parents are worried out of their wits, but they see a fire in their daughter’s eyes that has never been there before. They agree to talk, and only talk. They watch her zoom up the stairs with a wide grin, shouting down at them that she’s going to fetch the letter from her room. They figure a few minutes of entertaining this idea will be worth her smile ten times over.

As expected, her parents do not believe anything she says. The letter could be junk mail or a prank. There is no way to prove the seashell was once a rock from their front lawn. One glance at the business card sets them off on a string of “these don’t exist” and “this isn’t a real job, it’s not even a real word.” They are at least partial enough to their daughter to call the man crazy instead of her.

Hours ago, she thought the same. She would have been the one dialing the police on all available hotlines with her parents asking her not to be so imaginative. Yet the more Doyeon argues, the firmer she stands on her point. She’s going out on a limb here, but she just needs to know what all this is about. She tries to reason that she doesn’t have to accept anything. They can easily speak with the man—

“—and his family!” Doyeon emphasizes.

—and not believe a thing he says. They can walk away and go back to their normal lives. They can meet somewhere public, with tons of security and buff, agile bystanders who will mob the man if she screams. They can all have the police on speed dial, ready on their screens throughout the whole meeting.

“Isn’t it better if everyone goes somewhere familiar and crowded to talk about this, rather than waiting for someone to show up here?” Doyeon reasons.

The man said someone else would come soon enough to explain. Her parents look at each other for answers, drawing blanks themselves.

Mr. Kim sighs. “Honey, there’s no way to contact this—this Mr. Choi—even if we wanted to.” He displays the business card, front and back. Doyeon can hear tires screeching somewhere between her ears. Her shoulders slump.

She hadn’t thought of that. Mr. Choi offered to shed some light on the situation, but never gave a method of contacting him. None of them had ever heard of a Ministry of Magic. This wasn’t something they could just ask around for either. So if they couldn’t walk into the office, or call him in any way, how was she supposed to tell him, “Yes! Spill all the secrets of your world so I can go to this suspicious school!” ?

She stares hopelessly at her Hogwarts letter. And then something clicks.

We await your owl by no later than the 31st of July.

Owls. Wizards used owls to communicate instead of a postal service. She doesn’t have an owl. But Yoojung does, Doyeon remembers. But then that meant she was— Was she? The image of a brown bottled liquid crosses her mind and her eyes flicker down to the barely visible pink spot on her palm.

The gears in Doyeon’s head are grinding overtime. Unlike before however, her thoughts are not jumbling up into a heaping mess that fizzles out. They are laying themselves down like train tracks, miles ahead of where her mind is processing everything.

She pleads for just one shot at this and if it fails, she will give it up and go to the school she transferred to. Her parents agree with great reluctance. They watch their daughter bound up to her room, long legs skipping three steps at a time. Their smiles are half strained, half genuine. With a collective sigh, they decide to let Doyeon off dish duty for the night to prolong her excitement. Shaving twenty years off their lives has to be worth her happiness, even if it’s temporary.

When Doyeon reaches her room, she grabs her laptop and flings herself onto the bed. She spends a good hour reformatting her letter, wondering if she sounds too formal or informal. She picks a cafe that has one entrance to a main street and another wall-length open entrance to a popular modern shopping center. There will be an abundant amount of mall security guards and a police station is conveniently located down the block. The ambiance is casual and noisy, loud enough to mask the topic of conversation or play it off as a discussion on creative writing to eavesdroppers. Satisfied with the letter, she prints it out and seals it. Pausing a moment, she decides to copy the information from the business card onto the front of the envelope. She hopes that will be enough. If owls are used for delivering the post, they must be very smart or well trained. She scribbles a short note on a separate paper and places both on her nightstand. She falls asleep feeling productively exhausted.

The next morning, Doyeon shuts off her alarm and prepares to go out. Her parents already left for work. She grabs her things off the nightstand and fills a small pouch with something from the kitchen. Every kid barters treats, she figures, magical or not.

~|~|~|~

Yoojung walks to the park in her neighborhood from the back entrance where there is no walkway. She settles in her favorite spot, a small shaded clearing hidden by untamed foliage with sprinklings of sunlight filtering through the leaves. It’s much cooler here than out on the playground or the grassy field. And it’s far away from people.

It’s not that Yoojung hates people, but they are much too curious for her liking. They like to ask questions. Adults like to coo at kids, asking how old they are and what they learn in school, whether they actually care or not. Other kids are just plain nosy and get fed up when they don’t get answers. She can’t help but feel like she’s being poked and prodded at when someone speaks to her. She feels even more like a specimen under study when everyone looks down at her.

But in this secluded area, she doesn’t have to deal with anyone. She can sit here for hours with just her pet owl for company, that is until someone disrupts her peace. She hears the rusting of leaves and branches, signaling the invasion of her safe haven. She skirts around the bushes quietly, hoping to slip away to another pocket of space. Taking a peek, she sees a tall girl crawl through an opening in the bushes nearest the public area of the park.

Doyeon. She smiles, remembering the name written in chicken scratch on the other side of the thick tree she’s leaning against. But she doesn’t dare show herself. She sees the girl search the area. Not for her though, that’s impossible. Right?

“Yoojung?” Doyeon calls out, not so loud as to attract anyone on the playground. Yoojung holds her breath until the girl walks forward.

She hears a sigh and Doyeon crouches down, out of Yoojung’s line of sight. She hears some rocks and wood chips being collected into a pile. She risks a peek, but immediately flattens her back against the tree when Doyeon stands up again. The girl dusts her hands off, takes in the area one last time, and crawls back out towards the main path.

After a few moment of silence, Yoojung emerges from her hiding spot. In the middle of the bark are two carved names. At the base of the tree, a letter, a note, and a pouch sit on top of a neat layer of rocks and wood chips. She crouches down, her owl hooting softly on her shoulder as she picks up the note.

Yoojung,

This is probably really random, and we’re not exactly close, but I need to ask you for a favor. You have an owl, right? I know this sounds crazy, but I need your owl to deliver a letter for me. I’m testing something for a sort of project, and I heard they’re really smart and have a great sense of direction.

If you don’t want to do it, I totally understand. But I put some candy in the pouch as an incentive, maybe? (The caramel ones are great.) I hope you can help me out!

Doyeon

Yoojung’s forehead creases in concentration. She reads between the lines and has an inkling of what Doyeon really means. She shifts her gaze to the letter pinned against the base of the tree by the pouch. Seeing to whom it is addressed, her suspicions are confirmed. She’s hesitant to take the envelope. How does she know him? She shouldn’t— She looked like she had never seen Essence of Dittany before, Yoojung thinks. And why would she be contacting him?

She looks inside the pouch. It’s filled with the assorted sweets she paid for at the nearby mart. But there’s also a homemade double-chocolate biscuit on the very top. Yoojung unwraps it and takes a giant bite. The chocolate immediately melts in , spreading warmth throughout her body. Well, I guess it’s not my place to ask.

Clenching the biscuit between her teeth, she gathers the note, letter, and pouch in her arms. She begins walking home, her owl still perched on her shoulder. He doesn’t leave his cage that night.

~|~|~|~

Doyeon’s mother takes her to the dentist for a cavity filling. The assistant jabs at her gum a bit too suddenly. She flinches and the lightbulb overhead pops. Once they get someone to replace it, they give her numbing shots and the drilling starts. Doyeon is okay at first, but then they get closer to the root. The pain shooting up her jaw combined with the screeching of the drill in her ears makes her head buzz. The whole system shuts down, only her station though.

“Not to worry, it’s just an accident,” says Dr. Granger calmly. He seems pretty happy for someone with faulty machinery.

The assistant relocates her to the next cubicle over. She takes the opportunity to ask for another injection. The rest of the appointment goes smoothly enough. She leaves with feeling swollen, her lip drooping slightly on one side.

Doyeon’s throat is parched by the time she gets home. She doesn’t trust her facial muscles yet, so she fills a glass with water and sips through a bendy straw with the functional side of . It’s exceptionally hot today and their air conditioner can’t keep up. Something swoops into the house just as her mother opens a window. Doyeon hears a shriek and feels something thump the back of her head. She jerks forward from the impact, water dribbling out the corner of . She turns around in time to see an owl circle their kitchen and aim a letter at her face. It glides over a shocked Mrs. Kim, who promptly shuts the window after it.

Doyeon picks up the letter from the floor. Her mother shuffles over, hand still over her pounding heart.

“What in the name of—” she huffs.

“It’s the guy! The Obliviator!” Doyeon gasps.

She tears open the envelope and summarizes the handwritten letter. Mr. Choi agreed to the meeting time and place, citing his excitement in their families getting to know each other. He is thoroughly pleased that she took him up on his offer and will do anything he can not to break this initial trust.

“He understands the position of a…” Doyeon squints at the crossed out word and skips it, “non-magical individual, and ensures he will do his best to answer any questions we might have.”

“I would like to start off with the bird of prey…” Her mother trails off.

“P.S. Sorry about the owl, it must come as a shock. But the regular post isn’t as efficient and I felt you needed a response as soon as possible,” Doyeon quotes with a sheepish grin.

Her mother starts spewing all sorts of questions and concerns she wants to bring up to Mr. Choi, but her voice fades into background noise. Doyeon breathes in slowly. This is really happening. It felt good to be active in her life, to consciously choose something. For once, she feels in control.

~|~|~|~

Doyeon eagerly walks ahead of her parents, weaving through the crowd. She spots Mr. Choi scanning the waves of customers outside the cafe entrance. He is dressed much more casually, fitting for the summer weather. Doyeon assumes his previous black outfit was a sort of uniform at his Ministry. He waves them over and greets Doyeon’s parents politely. He shakes Doyeon’s hand with more familiarity, but still keeps a bit of distance as a precaution. He leads them inside to the line while making small talk, offering to treat them in return for meeting with him. Doyeon doesn’t pay attention to the three lightly bickering about money and being a bother, in that distinctly adult way. After they pick up their orders, Mr. Choi directs them to a table with slightly more buffer room near the window. Two people see them coming and stand up to greet them.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kim, this is my beautiful wife,” he introduces.

“Pleased to meet you.” Mrs. Choi shakes their hands and then beams at Doyeon, who almost meets her at eye-level, greeting her as well.

“And here,” Mr. Choi gently nudges someone out from behind him. “Pardon, she is a bit shy with others. This is my daughter—”

“Yoojung,” Doyeon says in surprise.

Yoojung glances up from the ground and gives her a smile. She timidly greets Doyeon’s parents, not making a sound.

“Oh, you two know each other?” Mr. Choi looks between the two girls.

“We met once or twice,” Doyeon says, eyes fixed in front of her.

“What a coincidence!” He says happily. “You two are the same age, in fact. You both received the letter this month. Well, let’s all settle down before we get into that.” He gestures for everyone to take a seat.

After the initial exchange of pleasantries, everyone falls into awkward silence. Mr. Choi nods at his wife, who seems to have prepared something to start off the conversation.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kim, what we would like to do is ease your family into this new world, for lack of a better term.” She smiles. Hearing no objections from them, she continues. “You and I are ‘Muggles,’ members of the general populace who do not possess any magical abilities,” she lowers her voice slightly at the end. “Doyeon and Yoojung are witches, and my husband is a wizard. They do possess that innate power.”

It sounds simple enough, but Mrs. Choi knows her explanation is loaded. She pauses a few moments for the Kims to digest this.

“I want you to understand that I was once in the position you are currently in. I had no prior knowledge that any of this existed, not until I met my husband. It is a lot to deal with, but I could not have hoped for a better family.”

The sincerity in her voice is enough for Doyeon’s parents to let their guard down a bit.

“And nobody, the general populace as you say, ever catches on to this sort of thing?” Mr. Kim asks curiously.

“For the most part, no. That is my job,” Mr. Choi says. “Our community has a form a government that parallels the Muggle one. Likewise, we have our own set of laws, one of them being the Statute of Secrecy. In short, we make sure what we do is kept hidden. Of course there are exceptions, such as close family and friends.” Doyeon’s parents nod in understanding.

“I am an Obliviator. I was on an assignment when I met Doyeon.”

“You were dealing with those loud bangs and the smoke down the street,” Doyeon interjects.

“Exactly. It is my priority to alter the memories of Muggles who witness…” He trails off.

“Magical accidents and catastrophes,” Mr. Kim finishes slowly, trying to keep up.

Mr. Choi nods. “We make sure nobody is hurt and nobody remembers. It sounds malicious and manipulative, but magical or not, human life is valuable. Merlin knows the world would go down in flames if we were ever found out,” he shudders at the thought, forcing it out of his mind.

“Now, about Hogwarts,” he begins. “This is a school based in the United Kingdom for educating young witches and wizards, such as our daughters. I graduated from there, myself. Each eligible child receives an acceptance letter the summer of or after their eleventh birthday. Of course, you can choose to decline. Some prefer the Muggle lifestyle. Others simply wish to be educated elsewhere.”

“Let’s say we agree to send Doyeon,” Mrs. Kim prompts.

“If Doyeon chooses to attend Hogwarts, she will receive seven years of magical education. The curriculum will foster her understanding of our community, prepare her for a career in our world if she so wishes, but most of all it will teach her to control her magic. That, I believe, is of the utmost importance. A witch’s or wizard’s reluctance to attend does not stamp out their innate abilities. There’s always a possibility something could go wrong. Of course, it usually is nothing drastic and the Ministry can take care of such instances. It is my hope, however, that all three of you are able to make an informed decision about this.”

Listening to Mr. Choi, Doyeon feels something expand in her abdomen. It’s uncomfortable. She finds herself standing on a line again, but dividing what, she doesn’t know. She’s too preoccupied by everything swarming around her head to look down the slopes.

“Honey?” Mrs. Kim circles her arm around Doyeon’s shoulders.

“Let me guess, you’re worried you don’t have what it takes to go through with everything, with fully integrating yourself in the wizarding world,” Mr. Choi says softly.

Doyeon nods. It’s a lot more to consider than she initially thought. What if she’s not competent enough, or she has some odd quirk that she’ll never have control over? What if it’s too late to go back to her normal life and she’s shunted to some outcast school because she’s already delved into the secrets of their world? Could she really make it her world? Suddenly, she doesn’t feel like she’s been invited. She feels like she’s intruding.

She refocuses her eyes enough to catch Yoojung staring at her. She doesn’t look away this time. Instead, she reaches for Doyeon’s hand across the table and places it around the drink between them. The opening of the door constantly wafted warm air into their corner. The condensation on the outside of the cup drips down Doyeon’s palm. She wishes it was cold. Lukewarm coffee is disgusting. She hears her parents gasp on either side of her. She sees Yoojung smirk. It’s the same proud expression she had when healing Doyeon’s injuries at the park. Doyeon follows the other girl’s gaze to the cup, its contents completely frozen. She lets go and it begins to melt, forming little coffee icebergs.

Mr. Kim gapes. “How did that— Who…”

“Me.” Doyeon says simply, smiling at Yoojung.

Yoojung mirrors her expression, nodding once firmly. You.

And that’s all Doyeon needs.