A/N: Hey readers. I hope you like the start to this story. At any time, should you have any ideas, feel free to put them in a review.
Chapter One: Eleventh Birthday Surprises
"Sarah, come here."
"Coming, Mum," Sarah called. She got up from her bed and headed downstairs to where her mum's voice came from. She must be making breakfast, she thought, realizing the voice came from the kitchen.
"Yes?" she asked, coming into the kitchen.
"Breakfast is ready," Sarah's mum, Rose, said, placing a plate of food on the table, followed by a tall glass of orange juice.
"Thanks," Sarah said, taking a seat and pulling the food towards her. "Oh, Mum?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Did my new cane come in yet?" Sarah asked, spearing a sausage on her fork.
"Yes," Rose replied, placing the cane next to her. "It came an hour ago. I let you sleep in. It's nearly twelve. That's why you have such a big breakfast."
Sarah smiled at her mum, picking up her new cane as she did so. She unfolded the long, white cane and felt it, smiling in satisfaction when she noticed it was now tall enough to suit her needs. The old one was a few inches too short for her to use. She had mentioned this to her parents, and they had ordered a new one for her.
Sarah relied on her cane to get her from place to place. She needed the cane, since she could not see. The cane was like another set of eyes - like an extension of her arm.
When Sarah was born, she had been born very early, which had resulted in her eyes not being fully developed, causing her to be born blind.
She had been born very tiny, and very light. She was not completely blind, however. She could see light. She could tell the difference between light and darkness, and tell where things were by the way the light was blocked. The same held true if something moved. Sarah would see something pass in front of her eyes, but not know what it was, unless she was told.
Sarah felt on her plate with her fork. She found four pieces of bacon, two sausages, a piece of buttered toast, and a waffle.
"Your father and I are going to give you your birthday gifts after breakfast," Rose told Sarah as she ate, sitting next to her with her own plate of food.
Sarah beamed. Today was her eleventh birthday. Rose had been hinting at a very fun day, full of great gifts, for the past week.
"Isn't this more like lunch?" Sarah said.
"It's brunch," said a voice, coming into the kitchen. "Good morning, ladies."
"Morning, Dad," Sarah said, picking up her glass of orange juice and taking a sip.
"Happy birthday, Sarah," Sarah's dad, John, said, pulling his plate towards him and starting to eat.
"Thanks, Dad," Sarah said, grinning happily.
The rest of breakfast passed in peaceful silence, each in their own thoughts. Once all the plates had been cleared and put in the sink, Rose led Sarah into the living room and had her take a seat in the chair by the fire.
"Here's your first present," John said, placing a large box on Sarah's lap.
Sarah unwrapped the box and flipped open the lid. Inside, she found a long, thin, slender case.
"What's this?" she asked, holding it up with both hands so as not to drop it.
"Open it up," John said. "There are clasps on the front of it. In the middle. There you go."
Sarah found the clasps and opened the case. Feeling inside, she felt something with keys. She gave her dad a questioning look.
"Here," John said. He took the case from Sarah and put together the item, before handing Sarah a brand-new flute.
"The school told us how interested you seemed to be in music," John said. "Give it a go. We know you can play at least a little. Your teacher already told us.
Sarah raised the flute to her lips and began to play a few scales. When she was done, she lowered the flute and laid it in the case.
"Very good," Rose said, beaming proudly. "Now it's my turn. Come here, Sarah."
Sarah rose from her chair and took her mother's hand. Rose led Sarah over to the corner, and placed Sarah's hand on a bench.
"Sit," she said.
Sarah took a seat on the bench and reached up. Her hands touched keys... several keys... a piano.
Sarah got up from her seat, ran over to her mum and threw herself into her arms. She did the same with her father, then returned to the piano bench.
"This must have cost a fortune," she breathed.
"We saved up," Rose said, smiling. "Now, play."
Sarah, grinning, found the pedal with her foot, placed her hands on the keys, and began to play a very beautiful song.
She played the last notes and received applause from her parents, who were smiling broadly. Rose patted Sarah on the back and John squeezed Sarah's shoulder.
"You are so talented," Rose said.
Sarah shrugged. "Thanks for the music instruments," she said. "I love them so much."
"You're very welcome, Sarah," John said, just as a knock was heard.
Rose moved to the door and opened it. A stern-looking woman stood there. She wore long robes and a thick cloak.
"May I come in?" she asked, giving a kind smile. "My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall. I've come to deliver some very good news. I believe you got my letter saying I would come?"
"Yes, we did," Rose said, smiling. "What are you here to tell us?"
"That," McGonagall said, "is a surprise. Shall we move to the couch?"
Rose nodded and tapped Sarah's shoulder. She walked with her parents to the couch and sat down, facing McGonagall, who had taken a seat in the chair opposite them.
Sarah could sense something about McGonagall, but couldn't place it. She couldn't sense it with her parents or anyone else she knew, just McGonagall, as far as she could tell.
"So," McGonagall began, "as I said in the letter, I had something very important to discuss with you three. I am a professor at a school in Scotland. This school happens to be a school for teaching magic to its students. It is called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This may be very hard to believe."
The three on the couch nodded.
"Let's see," McGonagall said, thinking aloud. "What can I show you that Sarah will notice? Aha! Sarah, hold out your hands please."
She pulled a large handkerchief and a strange looking stick out of her pocket. She placed the stick into Sarah's hands.
"This is a wand. Wizards and witches channel their magic through it by making various movements and speaking certain incantations. This is a handkerchief, as you can see. With this wand, I will transfigure it into whatever you'd like."
Sarah laughed. McGonagall had sounded like a magician when she had said the last sentence.
"How about," Sarah said, pausing to think, "how about a blanket?"
"Of course," McGonagall said, smiling and waving her wand in a swift motion. Sarah pulled the now transfigured blanket into her arms. It was very soft and comfortable. She held it out for McGonagall.
"No dear," she said, gently pushing Sarah's hand away, "you keep it."
Sarah smiled thankfully and folded the blanket up, setting it over where her flute case lay.
The thing she had been sensing had sparked when McGonagall used her wand. Was it magic? Could she sense magical signatures?
"Now do you understand a little about magic?" McGonagall asked, and as three, the little family nodded. "However, you must not tell everyone about this. You could expose the wizarding world to the Muggles, or non-magical people, such as you, Rose, and you, John."
"And me," Sarah added without thinking.
"No, Sarah," McGonagall said gently. "You are magical. You're a witch."
