AUTHOR POV

 The morning after the owl's visit. Emma wakes up clutching the letter, a glimmer of hope still lingering in her chest. She decides it's time to face her parents and tell them about the letter, determined to leave. She walks downstairs, her heart pounding, clutching the letter tightly in her hand.

Emma:
(standing in the doorway of the kitchen, taking a deep breath)
"Mom, Dad... I need to talk to you."

Her parents look up from their breakfast, sensing the seriousness in her voice. Mr. Turner lowers his newspaper, while Mrs. Turner sets down her coffee cup, both giving her stern looks.

Mr. Turner:
"What is it this time, Emma?"

Emma:
(nervously, but determined)
"I got a letter last night... from a school. A magical school. It's called Hogwarts, and they've invited me to study there. I want to go. No—I need to go."

She holds up the letter, her heart racing. For a moment, there's silence. Then her father's face hardens, and her mother's expression turns cold.

Mrs. Turner:
(voice sharp, dismissive)
"Magic? Emma, this is ridiculous. We've raised you better than to fall for such nonsense."

Mr. Turner:
(snatching the letter from her hand, scanning it quickly before his face twists in anger)
"Where did this come from? Some sort of prank? Magic isn't real, Emma. You're getting carried away with these fantasies again!"

Emma:
(voice rising with frustration)
"It's not a prank! An owl delivered it—this is real. I've been chosen to go to this school, to learn magic. Please, I need to go! This is my chance to get out of here, to have a life of my own—"

Mr. Turner:
(slamming the letter down on the table, cutting her off)
"You are not going anywhere. Do you understand? This is exactly why we keep you under control—so you don't get these ridiculous ideas in your head!"

Mrs. Turner:
"You've always been too impressionable, Emma. This so-called 'magic school' is just another escape for you. We've given you everything, and this is how you repay us? By trying to run away?"

Emma:
(tears welling in her eyes, her voice breaking)
"I'm not running away! I'm asking for a chance to do something for myself, to be someone more than what you want me to be. Please... just let me go."

Mrs. Turner stands up, her face cold and unforgiving. She reaches for the letter and, before Emma can react, rips it in half. The tearing sound echoes through the room like a final blow to Emma's heart.

Emma:
(gasping, stepping forward in disbelief)
"No! What are you doing?!"

Mrs. Turner:
(firmly)
"We're doing what's best for you, Emma. You don't need magic, and you don't need to leave this house. You'll stay here, where it's safe, and where we can make sure you don't make a fool of yourself."

Emma watches in horror as her mother tears the letter into smaller pieces, dropping the remains onto the table. Her dream, her escape, destroyed in seconds. She feels tears spill down her cheeks, her chest tightening with anger and sadness.

Emma:
(voice trembling with rage)
"You can't do this to me. You can't just... take away everything like this!"

Mr. Turner:
(standing up now, his voice cold and final)
"You're not going anywhere, Emma. You'll stay here, under our roof, until you understand how foolish you're being. And until then—"

He grabs her arm roughly, pulling her toward the stairs. Emma struggles, but he's too strong.

Mr. Turner:
"—you'll stay in your room. We'll lock the door if we have to. You need to learn that we know what's best for you."

Emma:
(crying out, her voice filled with desperation)
"No! You can't do this! Let me go!"

Mrs. Turner follows them up the stairs, her face set in cold determination. They shove Emma into her room, and with a loud click, Mr. Turner locks the door from the outside.

Emma pounds on the door, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but she knows it's no use. She's trapped, just like always. Her parents' voices echo faintly from downstairs, but all she can hear is the sound of her own sobs. She stumbles back to her bed and collapses onto it, burying her face in her hands.

Emma:
(whispering to herself between sobs)
"I was so close... so close."

The moonlight filters through her window, but it no longer feels like a beacon of hope. It feels cold, distant, and unreachable. Emma stares up at it, her heart aching with the loss of her one chance at freedom. But deep down, a fire is starting to burn inside her—a fire fueled by anger, determination, and a refusal to let this be the end.

Emma:
(quietly, but with fierce determination)
"I'll find a way out. I don't care how... I'll find a way."

IN KITCHEN

Mr. Turner:
(voice low, but angry)
"That letter should've never gotten here. I told you we had this under control."

Mrs. Turner:
(sharply, not turning around)
"How was I supposed to stop an owl from delivering it? It's magic, Charles. You know that as well as I do."

Mr. Turner:
(slamming his fist on the table, the sound echoing through the room)
"We swore we'd keep her away from that world. We promised that she wouldn't get involved in any of this."

Mrs. Turner:
(finally turning to face him, her eyes blazing)
"Don't you think I know that?! But we can't control everything. Her magic is... stronger than we thought. It's getting harder to suppress."

Mr. Turner:
(his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper)
"We've managed this long. She's our daughter. If anyone finds out the truth, we'll lose everything."

Mrs. Turner:
(her voice tense, as if she's trying to keep control)
"She's not going anywhere, Charles. As long as she's in this house, she'll never know who she really is. We've kept her ignorant this long—"

Mr. Turner cuts her off with a furious glare. He grabs the edge of the table, his knuckles white, and then, in a sudden burst of anger, flips the table over. The sound of crashing dishes and the clattering of the table reverberate through the house.

Mr. Turner:
(shouting, his voice barely holding back rage)
"But she's getting closer, damn it! That letter... it's proof they're looking for her. We're running out of time!"

Mrs. Turner gasps as the table crashes down, stepping back. She glances nervously toward the stairs, listening for any sign that Emma might have heard. Then, she quickly moves toward Mr. Turner, grabbing his arm to calm him down.

Mrs. Turner:
(in a hushed but firm voice)
"Lower your voice! If she hears anything... if she finds out about us—"

Mr. Turner yanks his arm away from her grip, his breathing heavy, eyes wild. He stares at the mess on the floor, his anger still simmering but contained for the moment.

Mr. Turner:
(coldly, through gritted teeth)
"It's not just about her leaving, Diana. It's about what she is. If she finds out, we can't control her anymore. She'll be dangerous."

Mrs. Turner:
(her voice softer now, but full of bitterness)
"That's why we've done what we had to. She doesn't belong in that world. Magic destroyed everything once. It won't destroy her—or us—again."

They both stand there in silence for a moment, the tension heavy in the room. Mrs. Turner bends down to start picking up the broken pieces of dishes, her hands shaking slightly. Mr. Turner stands still, staring out the window, his expression dark.

Mrs. Turner:
(in a softer tone, trying to sound practical)
"We'll keep her locked in that room until she comes to her senses. She can't leave, not now."

Mr. Turner:
(calmer, but still tense)
"If she tries to defy us again, we'll make sure she won't have the strength. We've done it before. We'll do it again."

There's an eerie finality to his words, and Mrs. Turner's eyes flicker with guilt for just a moment before she hides it behind her cold exterior again.

Mrs. Turner:
(softly)
"We're doing this to protect her... to protect us."

Mr. Turner doesn't reply. He simply walks to the door, grabbing his coat. He glances back at Mrs. Turner before leaving.

Mr. Turner:
"Make sure she stays in there. No more chances."

As the door closes behind him, Mrs. Turner stands in the dimly lit kitchen, her hands trembling as she sweeps the broken pieces of porcelain into the trash. She glances toward the stairs, a flicker of doubt crossing her face before she quickly hardens again.

Mrs. Turner:
(to herself, her voice barely a whisper)
"We're doing the right thing. We have to be."

Upstairs, Emma wipes the last of her tears, her face still red from crying. She didn't hear the full conversation, but the sound of the table crashing and the tension in her parents' voices linger in the air, unsettling her. Something doesn't feel right. She stares out of her window, feeling a gnawing sensation in her chest.

Emma:
(whispering to herself, her voice filled with quiet determination)
"They're hiding something from me. And I'm going to find out what it is."

As the moon begins to rise again outside, Emma's resolve grows. This time, she won't wait for another opportunity. She will find a way out—no matter what it takes.

AUTHOR POV 

The magical world of Hogwarts, bathed in the warm light of a setting sun. The castle towers loom high against the purple-pink sky, the turrets gleaming as the sun sinks lower. In a secluded courtyard, far from the bustle of students, Jimin stands quietly, his robes rippling slightly in the evening breeze. His hands are clasped behind his back, his usually calm face betraying a hint of anticipation. He gazes out at the horizon, where the magic that binds him to Emma remains incomplete—waiting for the final piece.

Jimin:
(to himself, his voice soft and thoughtful)
"It's close. I can feel it... the bond's nearly complete. But where is she?"

He closes his eyes for a moment, feeling the pulse of magic that connects him to someone he hasn't met yet but knows is destined to change everything. The air around him hums with energy, the same energy that's been slowly building since the first letter was sent. His heart beats faster in sync with the magic, almost as if sensing Emma's turmoil, her desire to escape her home and reach the world of magic.

WILL THEY MEET OR JIMIN IS GOING TO WAIT FOR ETERNITY...?