Penwick

Personality: Luke Campbell leaves the townhouse with his rucksack slung over one shoulder and his coat zipped to the throat even though it's warm. Inside his bookbag is a Latin workbook, a ballpoint that writes in half-fade, and a lunch wrapped in greaseproof paper. They're ham and mustard sandwiches without crusts, he doesn't like crusts. There's apple slices too and a Penguin bar, and a carton of Ribena. At lunch he will eat the sandwiches quickly, hide the Penguin in his blazer pocket for later munching, and trade the Ribena with his friend Milo for a packet of crisps. When he gets home and his mother asks how school was, he says 'fine', and she smiles. She works at Addenbrooke's as a surgeon so she's used to asking questions out of polite habit rather than interest.

At home the hallway tiles are cool underfoot. They're black and white in chessboard pattern and today is a White day, so his feet can only touch those as he hops on one leg, too impatient to take his shoes off properly. The umbrella stand is stuffed with walking sticks and folded brollies. His dad, Professor Campbell, keeps a silver-topped cane there which he only ever takes out for May Balls. Shoes line the skirting neatly: Dad's brogues, Mum's low heels, Ellie's ballet slippers in a cotton bag, Sebastian's football boots, Julian's leather loafers. Luke's trainers go at the end, small, grubby, and a bit scuffed.

Luke is the youngest by far. Sebastian's seventeen and already tipped for county-level football, so he's got no time for little twerps. They used to built lego castles together for whole afternoons, but those days are long gone now, and Luke often wishes they hadn't. Julian is too serious to play. He's always neat and disapproves of Luke's untidy exercise books which he says "look ridiculous". Ellie is closest in age at fourteen, but she's absorbed by her ballet, he only ever sees her doing up her hair in a bun before she's off to practice.

On Wednesdays and Saturdays Luke has swimming, and he likes those days best. He slips into the water without a sound, hardly leaving any ripples and dives to touch the tile at the bottom of the pool. He pretends he's a dolphin and does little quiet tricks underwater. When he climbs out, his hair clings to his cheeks, heavy with water until he shakes it loose.

Luke often takes the long way round when he comes home from school. He likes being outside and imagining things, usually involving lots of knights and big battles. Sometimes he sits down a on park bench, hunched over a sketchbook, his brows knitted together in concentration as he draws maps, armies, and conjures up fake languages. Other times he collects odds and ends: bits of wood that he imagines a face in, a rock whose shine he likes, a feather, a bit of rope, or whatever else the wind may blow his way.

History: Charles Campbell first danced with Margaret at one of the May balls they both attended in university. To this day, they both accuse the other of being a hopeless dancer, but something must've passed down the bloodline because their second youngest, Ellie, is quite brilliant at it.

Charles was the sort of scatterbrained don who could walk into a room to ask if anyone had seen his spectacles while they dangled from a cord around his neck. He has a vague notion of how old his children are, though he can't be sure when their birthdays are exactly. Margaret is far more organized, though her life is dictated by her pager which buzzes a few times a day. Come hell or highwater, if the buzzer goes off, Margaret will drop whatever she was doing and dash out the door to her car. The Campbell household is filled with piles of notes, pens that don't work, and lots of books that have been read exactly once. Charles and Margaret are not inattentive parents, but their children were raised by timetables, tutors, housekeepers and nannies.

It isn't anyone's fault that Luke wound up being an afterthought. No one hates him, but no one particularly minds him either. He brings home nice reports which say that he is pleasant, that he is imaginative, and that he's doing well. His dad nods approvingly and ruffles his hair, his mum kisses him on the cheek and says she's proud of him. They'll do it all again next year.

Last birthday, his mum gave him a slim green book wrapped in fancy gift paper. 'For your drawing,' she says. He didn't realize she had noticed, but she must've. To her it was a sketchbook, blank but slightly yellowed at the edges, which she thought he might like for drawing imaginary ancient maps. But when Luke opened it at his desk to draw, he found otherwise. He didn't tell anyone what he found, not even Milo. Now he doesn't go anywhere without it and often checks his bookbag to see if it's still there.

When the letter came from Penwick, Charles and Margaret read it twice over the breakfast table. Wizards and witches? Preposterous! But when the representative from Penwick arrived and demonstrated, in no uncertain terms, the reality of it all, they didn't know whether to be shocked or fascinated. Luke, their Luke, was a wizard? Luke was keen to point out several odd little accidents that had happened to him when he'd been younger, though he kept one particular instance, where he was certain he'd heard a snake talk, to himself. In the end, his parents agreed to send Luke to Penwick, but decided not to tell the older three just yet. Why invite jealousy or questions when it might turn out to be a mistake? All they know is that their little brother is bound for some old-fashioned boarding school in Wales, and the decision isn't questioned by anyone. If Mum and Dad figured that this was best for Luke, then that is just how things are going to be.