Prologue
London – St. Catherine’s Orphanage, 1st of June 1890
“I’m a what?”
The strangely dressed, eccentric-looking older gentleman—he’d introduced himself as Professor Eleazar Fig—chuckled. “You’re a witch.”
Kara Everly stared at her visitor sitting opposite her with enough skepticism to topple Big Ben, topped with a hint of incredulity. The matron of the orphanage had informed the fifteen-year-old girl that someone had wanted to see her, dropped her off in the meeting room where orphans and prospective adoptive parents were to meet-and-greet, and now she was drinking tea with a total stranger who had just told her she was a witch.
Professor Eleazar Fig looked to be in his mid to late sixties, or perhaps early seventies. He had a full head of wild gray hair with long sideburns down the sides of his face, though he remained clean-shaven. The age lines on his pale face further accentuated his eccentricity, but they also gave him a grandfatherly appearance. The clothes he was wearing weren’t a style Kara had ever seen outside of a history book. They resembled old period robes, though still patterned with exquisite golden designs against the blue-green dye, coupled with a matching scarf embroidered with similar designs as his robes. Underneath, he wore a leather vest with leather laces to cinch it, complete with leather bracers. When Kara had heard that she was going to meet with a ‘professor’, she had imagined an older man, yes, but wearing a modern suit with buttons and a tie. Furthermore, she remained dubious of his apparent title; he hadn’t specified what he was a professor of or whom he represented.
“Is this some sort of joke?” Kara asked. “Because it’s not really funny.”
“I am quite serious,” Fig said calmly with a hint of bemusement.
“Forgive me, but I don’t believe you,” Kara replied, keeping her voice as respectful as she could. The matron was very strict on manners, particularly with the girls.
“Understandable. Your reaction is quite normal. I often see it when I approach students of your particular background,” Fig said. He pulled out a stick from his outrageous outfit and waved it at the nearby teapot. “Wingardium Leviosa.”
Against all her lessons, Kara’s mouth fell open and stayed that way as the teapot floated over to refill her teacup before it floated to Fig and refilled his teacup as well.
“Now, then, I shall explain in more detail,” Fig said. He paused to take a sip. “Witches and wizards are humans capable of magic. You are a witch, and I am a wizard. Those that cannot perform magic are called muggles.”
“ ‘Muggles’,” Kara repeated.
“We are an entire society, with governments, laws, nations, and cultures, living separately from the muggle world—the non-magical world,” Fig patiently explained. “The reasons why are varied, and you will learn in time what they are, should you accept our invitation. That leads us to the crux of why we are meeting: I am here as a representative of the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
Again, Kara was rendered speechless.
“There was a recent incident involving you and a rather powerful display of magic,” Fig said. “So powerful, in fact, that there was significant discussion regarding you.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” Kara asked, wondering if she should be worried or not.
“Well, the display of magic I just demonstrated, while appearing simple, still requires practice, discipline, and learning,” Fig said. “All facets of magic require such dedication. And believe me, there are far more powerful expressions of magic than a mere levitation charm.”
“Wait, you said you were a professor at some magic school,” Kara said, just barely keeping up with the strange and perhaps deranged conversation. “Hogwarts?”
“I am. I teach magical theory,” Fig answered patiently. “Usually, children are accepted into Hogwarts well before the age of eleven. At eleven, they begin their magical instruction. Those that live in England study at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
Kara exhaled sharply. “So… there are other magic schools, right? You talked about other nations and governments and laws and—”
“Indeed there are,” Fig replied, smiling widely and showing a set of healthy white teeth. “All around the world, with their own magical governments to manage and laws to abide by.”
“I’m fifteen, though,” Kara replied. “You said eleven-year-olds start their education.”
“That is correct. Hence the discussion as to what to do with you,” Fig said. “The Ministry sent people here, to your orphanage, to covertly investigate, and it appears you have been doing accidental magic for quite some time without detection.”
Kara looked away. “I don’t know about that, but things keep happening around me.”
“Such as…?” Fig asked.
Shrugging, Kara answered, “I don’t know. Things. I could be walking down the street and something was about to fall on me, but something else would fall first and protect me. Or when I was hungry and needed some money, a robber rounded a corner, tripped over me, lost his balance, hit a pole, and fell unconscious. The woman gave me some money in gratitude. There are lots of odd events I can’t describe. I don’t do anything. Things just seem to happen around me. Not in a bad way, even. Almost always good… except getting adopted, I suppose.”
“How interesting,” Fig murmured. “There is a potion that mimics such effects.”
“A potion?” Kara repeated dumbly.
“Felix Felicis. Also known as the good luck potion,” Fig replied. “Drinking it allows circumstances to favor you in wondrous ways.”
Kara sighed. “I don’t know if you’re being serious or not anymore.”
“I am very serious,” Fig said. “Ever since Ministry investigators discovered a history of accidental magic coming from you, we have remained baffled as to why an owl wasn’t sent to you sooner. Or at least, a Hogwarts representative, to deliver the news to you in person.”
“You mean to say that I was meant to go to this school of yours sooner?” Kara asked.
“Yes, of course you were,” Fig answered. “It is not unusual for muggle children to have displays of magic and receive an invitation to study at Hogwarts. The societal term we use is muggle-borns: children that are born to non-magical parents but are magical themselves. There are many at Hogwarts.”
“Then… why am I being invited so late, then?” Kara mumbled.
Fig shook his head and shrugged. “We are looking into that, of course. It is quite perplexing. As it stands, your recent display of magic was powerful enough that we cannot ignore it.”
“You mean the carriage whose wheels fell off?” Kara asked.
“The very same incident,” Fig replied. “According to the report I read, almost two months ago, the coachman of that carriage lost control and nearly ran into one of your friends, but before it happened, all four wheels were suddenly blasted off, correct?”
“I—yes, that’s accurate to say,” Kara said hesitantly.
“You were observing from across the street and nowhere near the coach?”
Kara nodded.
“Yes, that would be what garnered our attention and prompted my presence here today,” Fig said. “I am here to officially extend an invitation for you to study at Hogwarts.”
“If this Hogwarts starts at eleven for most children, then won’t I be behind?” Kara asked. “By the time I finish, I’ll be twenty-three.”
“As I said, yours has been an unusual case, but we believe we can make the situation work,” Fig said. “You will start Hogwarts as a fifth-year alongside your peers, and we—the other staff at Hogwarts, I mean—shall accelerate some of your coursework and provide extra tutelage so that you can catch up to the rest of your classmates.”
“Really?” Kara asked, hope creeping into her voice.
“Really,” Fig answered, smiling. “In fact, I am to give you a primer on spell work during these summer months to get you prepared for the fall term. Come the first of September, a great deal will change for you.”
“What will we be doing?” Kara asked. She had to resist the urge to fidget in her chair.
“Very basic charms and spells, to get you acclimatized,” Fig answered. “Do not expect anything grandiose and showy. That will come later.”
“Because grandiose and showy usually means dangerous?” Kara asked. “You mentioned that there are more powerful expressions of magic than what you just did to that teapot.”
Fig smiled again, more approvingly than in humor this time. “Quite. Oh, I do believe we are going to get along. I will procure you a second-hand wand, an instrument that allows you to cast magic safely and in a more controlled manner. We will also have to secure other items you will need for next term. And do not worry about payment; there are ways to finance those less fortunate yet equally deserving to attend Hogwarts.”
Kara shyly smiled. “Very well. I accept your invitation to study at Hogwarts. I look forward to working with you… Professor Fig.”
Professor Fig smiled back, shook her hand, and gave her a letter. “I as well, Miss Everly.”
Taking the letter, Kara silently mouthed the contents, her green eyes scanning the parchment with rising excitement.
~o~O~o~
HOGWARTS WITCHCRAFT SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT & WIZARDRY
Dear Kara Everly,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a fifth-year student.
Term begins on 1 September.
Preliminary supplies have been collected for you and will accompany you on your journey to the castle.
As you may be aware, the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery prohibits the use of magic by those under the age of seventeen outside school. However, due to your unique circumstances, the Ministry has graciously agreed to allow Professor Eleazar Fig to help you hone your spell-casting before escorting you from London to the castle for the start-of-term feast and the Sorting Ceremony.
Yours sincerely,
Professor Weasley
Deputy Headmistress
~o~O~o~
Author’s Notes:
I hate myself. I can’t even play a game without narrative ideas bouncing around my head. No idea if this will be a serious project or something I’m getting out of my dysfunctional brain.
First, some housekeeping to get out of the way. I don’t know J. K. Rowling; never met the woman, nor have I had any in-depth discussions about ANYTHING to do with her. So as far as any ‘controversies’ surrounding her go… I don’t give a shit. That is that, and this is this. This is a work of fiction based off someone else’s work designed to entertain anyone interested and provide an outlet for the author (i.e. me).
Not interested in telling anyone what my opinions are, what my political views are, or provide a forum where we all shout and scream and argue about whatever the problem is. I’m sure there are Reddit forums for that kind of thing.
This is fanfiction, for fans—both the reader and the author. Let’s keep it simple, clean, and fun, m’kay?
