Edita had experienced a dozen or more 'impossibles' since she arrived at Hogwarts. In her world, magic was a myth, if not relegated to sneaky card tricks and optical illusions. Then she had received her Hogwarts letter and everything went topsy turvy. The brunette twisted her mouth, a metallic taste swimming around her tongue. Her mother hadn't been very pleased about the fact that her only daughter was now a witch. Her father had thought the letter was a prank and threw it in the shredder of his office.

It had been a terrible idea.

The more letters he shredded, the more they would appear--at seemingly random places. They would fill up the pantry, float up from behind his cornflakes, soggy with milk. It became such a problem that by the third day, Edita had woken up to find ten garbage bags deposited in the different spots of the living room, brimming with acceptance letters.

Eddie's parents had reluctantly accepted the fact that she was not normal, and after an hour of commiserating over the repercussions of their little sleepy town finding out the truth, they were almost glad their eldest had turned out to be extraordinary after all.

Happenstance stopped grimacing long enough to smile at the back of November's head as they entered the laboratory. What was extraordinary was not her, but the fact that they were about to make their very own star. Edita's mouth began to hang open at the thought.

"Well, it's definitely not like growing a potato," chimed in Edita retrieving her clammy hand. She wiped it on the back of her school skirt. "It's not like they tell us in primary that we can grow a smaller sun if we wanted to."

Because in primary magic didn't exist--Science did.

Edita pulled on a white lab coat, only to take it off right away. The sleeves were too short, so she searched for a larger size that felt a bit more comfortable even if the sleeves were now a little too long. "The mystification," Edita repeated trying to memorize the word even though she wasn't really sure what it meant. Mysterious then? That sounded about right.

A pair of goggles went on the top of her head, used as a makeshift headband to keep her long brown hair away from her face. The next pair of goggles went right where they were meant to be, protecting her eyes from whatever explosions should occur. Happenstance surely hoped no such thing would happen. She had a lot of years left in her and she wanted to keep her thick eyebrows as intact as possible. They were the family's charm.

She followed November from then on out, joining her at the table. There was no point in bringing out her notes because November had hers and they were surely trustworthy. November seemed quite bookish and was always eager to learn and write things down in class while Edita mostly did her best to get the furthest seat in the back of the room that would be the closest to the window if any were available. Although at times she had to fight that Carver for it. It wasn't uncommon to see the two racing down the corridors, trying to get to the classroom first in order to score the prized seat in the back.

Edita turned the jar here and there before pulling out her wand. "Scourgify!" she chanted, remembering only one of the two and not bothering with looking over November's notes once more. "That should have done the trick." She brought the jar to eye level for closer inspection before settling it back down on the table and trying two more times just for good measure. Charms she was decent at but she did better at DADA than anything else--Transfiguration she was terrible at and was currently praying to God she wouldn't need any remedials.

Edita blinked and stared at the side of November's face before opening her mouth: "What's wrong with scrubbing? Mum says it makes for good training." Training for what, Edita couldn't say but she usually trusted her mother to give out golden nuggets of wisdom. "You're calling the jar, Cosmo?" November was always just brimming with ideas--strange ones--but ideas nonetheless. "You're okay," she murmured and patted the top of November's head.