Daniel Cruse was a poor and quiet boy, just eleven years old, living with his mother at 5th No. Private Sector Lane, Britain. His father had died in the last great magical war, though Daniel never believed that story.
“Where is this school, Mom?” he would ask again and again. “Magic isn’t real. It’s just some trick people make up to fool others.”
Whenever someone asked him about his father, Daniel repeated the story he had convinced himself was true:
“My father died in World War II at the age of thirty-two.”
But every time he said it, his classmates burst into laughter.
“At thirty-two? So what’s your age now, grandpa?” they jeered.
Daniel could never answer. He simply lowered his head and walked away. Even teachers whispered that his mother had filled his head with nonsense. The boy carried their scorn like a shadow, and it weighed heavier every day.
---
Christmas Eve – 24th December, 2000
That evening, Daniel’s cousin Eren Yagami, a boy from a much richer family, came swaggering into his small home.
“Hey, cousin,” Eren smirked, leaning on the doorway. “Will you come to my house tomorrow for the Christmas party? Oh wait—silly me. You don’t even have clothes fit for a party. Don’t worry, though. After everyone’s done eating, I’ll pack you some leftovers… maybe even throw in a pair of my old shoes.”
Daniel’s face burned red.
“I will never go to your house tomorrow!” he snapped.
Eren shrugged, lips curling into another smirk.
“Fine. But if you don’t come, you’ll miss the best food and brand-new gifts.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
And with that, he left, his laughter echoing behind him.
Daniel clenched his fists. His pride told him to stay away, but deep down he knew the truth—he had nothing decent to wear. He would go, not for the food, but for the clothes.
---
Christmas Day – 25th December
The next morning, Daniel was quieter than usual. After school, he dressed in his best shirt and trousers, though they were faded and worn. On his feet he wore only one half-torn sports shoe—the last thing he cherished from his father.
When he reached his cousin’s house, the mansion blazed with light and laughter. Guests crowded the halls in fine suits and dresses. Daniel’s heart pounded as he raised a trembling hand to the doorbell.
Before he could press it, the door swung open. His aunt stood there, her eyes narrowing in disgust.
“What are you doing here looking like that?” she snapped.
Flustered, Daniel held out the invitation Eren had given him.
But his uncle, John Yagami, soon appeared. He barely glanced at Daniel before saying in a cold, final tone,
“Leave.”
The words cut like a knife. Daniel turned away, his chest aching with shame. As he walked through the frosty street, he whispered to himself,
“One day… I’ll change all of this. I’ll change everything.”
He wandered through the market square, his thoughts racing. Just then, a firm hand gripped his shoulder.
“Where are you going, boy?” a calm, commanding voice asked.
Daniel froze. Slowly, he turned.
Before him stood a tall woman in a long, emerald-green cloak. Her eyes glowed with strange wisdom.
“I’m Mrs. Elizabeth,” she said gently. “And you… you’re not meant to be wandering alone tonight.”
Daniel stammered out his story—his father, his mother, the bullying, even how the school had expelled him for unpaid fees.
Mrs. Elizabeth listened in silence, then said,
“I am a teacher. If you truly carry talent, I will teach you. But first, I need to speak to your mother.”
Daniel hesitated, doubt flickering in his eyes, but something in her voice made him trust her. He nodded.
That night, Mrs. Elizabeth sat in their small kitchen with Daniel’s mother. She slid an old parchment form across the table.
“It’s an admission form,” she explained softly.
Daniel’s mother’s eyes fell on the bold letters at the top. Her breath caught.
ARCANMERE SCHOOL.
Tears welled up. She pressed the paper to her heart, whispering through trembling lips:
“Thank you, Jesus… thank you for this blessing.”
