Chapter 2: Meeting McGonagall

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Orion Wright,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

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I read the letter, front to back, three times before my brain caught up to my eyes. Before me stood an old woman in green robes, her face marred with frown lines and a stern look. She did not seem like the type of lady to cross.

Long before this encounter, once I started to show more interest in my world and not just magic, I had to ask myself a question.

How much talent should I show?

I knew for a fact I didn't want to show everything. I'd be labeled a monster for sure. A kid my age doing what I can with a wand would be impressive, let alone without one. However, that begs the question, how much should I show? I didn't want to go the unassuming and doubtful child route, my acting skills were far too bad for that. Living in what was basically solitary confinement for the past year and a half hasn't helped all that much with my social skills.

In the end, after a long deliberation with myself, I decided it didn't really matter. I truly didn't believe I was anything special. So long as someone puts in the effort I had they should be able to achieve the same things. Little did I know how far off I was in that assumption. Putting on an excited face that wasn't entirely faked, I lifted my head towards my soon to be new professor.

"Oh my god, I'm a wizard? I've been doing magic all this time? I thought it was The Force or something!" I shouted excitedly. McGonagill didn't even look fazed from my sudden increase in volume. Every kid probably does the same thing. Although, she did have a spark of curiosity that I could barely see.

"Can you elaborate on your second sentence please, Mr. Wright? Accidental magic doesn't usually happen 'all the time'."

"Accidental? What do you mean by 'accidental'? I can do it whenever I want." I said in a pouty voice, pretending to be offended.

"You're telling me you can control your gifts? Forgive me, but I find that hard to believe." She said in a condescending voice, almost like she was talking to a chil- oh. She is. Nevermind.

"Yeah, of course I can control it. I can make things float whenever I want and I can even make fire! I can make things spark or change shape or freeze too!" I said, lowering my volume slightly so as to not alert the rest of the orphanage to our conversation.

"Would you mind doing a demonstration? It's not that I don't believe you, but this is a highly improbable talent you're claiming."

"Sure thing! One second, though, I have to get my marbles and rocks that I use to train from my room." Right as I said 'rocks', McGonagall pulled out her want and conjured a small rock and a marble. She handed them over to me with an eyebrow raised in challenge. When she saw I didn't even blink at that display of magic, some of her disbelief melted away. I plucked them out of the air where they were levitating and held them in my palm. Using a small amount of willpower was enough to make the marble and rock rotate around each other, slowly approaching each other like dual stars locked in each other's orbits. As they finally touched, I willed them to fuse before lighting them on fire and melting them down to slag.

"That's a neat trick I made a little bit ago with the fusing. Are you saying there are other people that can do things like me?"

"Oh dear," McGonagall gasped lightly in shock. The shock didn't seem to last long however, as her stern facade fell back into place, nothing more than a slightly raised brow to betray her feelings. "Well, I guess we have a hidden gem. I do hope you'll be sorted into my house. And no, most people can't do what you did without a wand. Now, come along. As stated in the letter, we have to get your school supplies." She finished by turning around and walking out of the room.

Hurrying to catch up with her, I asked the question, "But professor, I haven't got any money. How will I buy supplies?" Of course, I knew logically there had to be some sort of muggle-born trustfund, but getting confirmation was always better than speculation.

"Don't worry too much about that, Mr. Wright. The Ministry of Magic pays for all muggle-born students. You are expected to pay it back by the five year anniversary of your graduation, but until then it's interest free. After that, it acts the same as a loan. As for what the Ministry of Magic is, think of it as the magical form of your muggle government." She recited more than said, presumably because of the hundreds of muggle-borns she had been tasked to get over the years having the same questions.

"Now, if you have any more questions, please save them until we get to Diagon Alley. I'm sure you will have many more questions." Before I could pretend to ask what Diagon Alley was, she held out a small rope, only half a meter long. "Please hold onto this and hold tight. This might be a little unpleasant."

Realizing what the rope must be, I held it as tight as my little hands would allow. With a check of her watch and a whispered "Right on time," we were off. I felt something attach me to the rope at the navel, swinging me around at incredible speeds. Shutting my eyes closed, I did everything I could to keep the puke down. I eventually lost the battle with my own stomach as McGonagall touched down lightly, leaving me to hit my ass on the pavement.

"Oh, I apologize Mr. Wright, I'll clean that right up for you." She whipped out her wand, casting a cleaning charm and vanishing the old breakfast that stained my clothes. "I'm sorry for not warning you sooner, but we were a little off schedule. That was something called a portkey, a magical item that allows instantaneous travel to a certain, pre-designated point."

"It's fine, professor, but I would like to be warned beforehand next time." Outside I was grumbling and nonplussed, but inside I was freaking out.

'Holy shit I just fucking teleported! Oh my god that's amazing! Across the country in an instant! I have to learn how to make one.'

"Of course, now let's be off. We still have to get your supplies after all." After that, McGonagall took a hold of my shoulder and led me towards our first destination, Flourish and Blotts Bookseller. On the way, I passed hundreds of witches and wizards, all going about their daily lives. The stores were stocked with an assortment of enchanted items, ranging from cauldrons, to quills that never ran out, all the way to what looked like a brick with wings. It was truly a magical place, in atmosphere and actual magic.

Flourish and Blotts was located around the middle of the Alley, squished between a shop that looked to have writing supplies, and a shop that sold second-hand cloaks, robes and other clothes. The inside was even more magnificent than the outside, filled floor to roof with books of all kinds. Biographies, spell books, story books, and even books about obscure magics such as occlumency and legilimency. I made a note to buy some of those once I had the money.

McGonagall seemed to know where she was going, so I decided to just follow her. She took me straight to the counter where a middle-aged man was nearly invisible behind all of the books.

"One basic Hogwarts order, first year." She said in a clipped tone. The man looked up from his book, pointed to his left and buried himself right back into it. Personally I thought it was a bit rude, but I wouldn't know the first thing about the culture here outside of the books or movies so I held my mouth. Judging by McGonagall's expression, she thought it was rude as well.

Ignoring the rude display, we walked towards the direction we were pointed. A couple meters later we encountered a large table filled to the brim with what looked to be miniature books, eight to a bundle. McGonagall picked one up with little fanfare and headed back to the man at the desk.

"Just one today, put it on the Hogwarts muggle-born fund." When the man heard the words "muggle-born' he scrunched up his face by a nearly unnoticeable amount. If it weren't for the fact I was so close and looking directly at him I would have never even noticed.

'It seems the discrimination against muggle-borns exists even all the way out here. At least they're not open about it.' I thought with a hint of anger. How they could think of simple children as dirty just because of their parents was beyond me. It astounded me that they were that blinded by tradition and old stories. Voldemort must have played quite a large role in amplifying that anger against muggles and muggle-borns on both sides of the war. Voldemort's side for obvious reasons, and Dumbledore/The Ministries side because, somewhere deep down, the Light side might have placed the blame of their suffering onto the muggle-borns.

This was all just speculation of course. I couldn't be entirely sure if I was right, but I wouldn't discount the idea. The war, from what I could gather from my memories of the books and movies, was a horrible era of fear and terror. When humans are placed in such positions, they're prone to lash out or be quick to blame.

The clerk took the money anyway, and shoved his face right back into a book. McGonagall gave a quick tsk at the man and moved on, nearly stomping out of the store. Based on her attitude, it seemed she recognized the bias as well.

The next couple hours were spent walking in and out of stores, buying everything I needed for the upcoming school year. I walked in a daze, too enraptured by all of the sights around me. Diagon Alley was easily the most amazing place I have ever been, past life included. Even though I only got to see Gringotts from afar, I could tell it was a perfect blend of gorgeous and menacing, taking up a huge amount of space.

Finally, after hours of walking around, buying up everything needed on the supply list and wishing for more, we reached an old, worn building with a sign that read:

'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.'

It was finally time for me to get the single most important tool of any wizard.

It was time for me to get my wand.