Author's Note: I would like to thank lucidity (aka Lisa) – she has inspired me to write this story and without her, I would just have a Mary Sue with a weak plot (shudders in horror) – I would also have a lot of mistakes! So, here's a shout out to Lucidity – without you this story would have never been made possible. And to all you newbies to this fic, please read and review! This is my first ever HP fic! Thanks!
Disclaimer: I own nothing created by J.K. Rowling
Chapter One – The LetterJune 30, 1997 – Salem, Massachusetts
The night was far from quiet in Salem on that fateful day in June. People were in the streets, laughing, dancing, and talking excitedly. Newspapers had printed the reason for celebration and could not be distributed fast enough to the residents of Salem. Wizards and witches were alight with joy not just in Salem but all over the world. One of these witches, a small brunette dressed in summer weight robes, ran from the town, a copy of the Salem Herald clutched in her hand. She ran until she reached the edge of the town, where she stopped in front of a quiet, darkened townhouse. Fumbling for her wand, she unlocked the door and stepped into the entrance hall.
"Holly!" she shouted loudly, her voice echoing in the darkened entrance hall of the house.
Silence met the petite brunette's ears, save for the quiet ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece.
"Holly!" the brunette became more insistent, "Where is my sister?" she muttered hotly under her breath. "Lumos," she said the incantation quietly, holding her lit wand up in front of her.
Suddenly the brunette in the entrance hall heard a tumbling sound coming from the ceiling above her.
"Holly Quiggle!" the brunette nearly screamed.
A tousled blond head appeared at the top of the staircase, and then the woman appeared, half-asleep, squinting from the bright light.
"Emily!" growled the blonde, "Do you know what time it is?"
The brunette fumbled with something in her hands, "Holly! This is important!" Emily cried.
Holly stumbled down the stairs, bleary-eyed, wearing a fantastic glare, "What, just what is so important at two o'clock in the morning?" she demanded sleepily.
Emily thrust the paper into Holly's hands, "Read this!" she cried.
Holly snatched the paper from her sister's hands, and read the headline, "VOLDEMORT DEFEATED!"
Not even bothering to read the rest of the article, she let the paper slip from her hands onto the floor and let the information sink into her mind. Slowly a smile lit up her sleepy face. Holly's green eyes met Emily's brown ones – they were both grinning.
Squealing with happiness, Emily launched herself into Holly's arms and the two embraced, whilst jumping up and down for joy. The most feared evil in the entire wizarding world was gone.
"In an act of heroic bravery, Harry Potter, 16, of Surrey, England, defeated the evil wizard Voldemort with a reverse incantation of the Killing Spell. Now all over the world, wizards and witches celebrating the defeat of the most evil wizard of the twentieth century…" Emily read the article as Holly padded around the kitchen making coffee and muffins for an early breakfast. Although it was very late, or very early (depending on your view), neither sister could think about sleep.
"Thank Merlin for Potter!" Holly said brightly.
"Here's a picture of him," Emily said, showing her the front page, where a very weary black-haired teen, who barely glanced at the camera, was supported by another boy and a girl, all very close to the same age.
"Wow," breathed Holly.
"Oh," Emily gasped.
"What is it?"
"Albus Dumbledore has died," Emily said quietly, laying down the paper.
Holly came around to the kitchen table and absently handed her sister a mug of steaming coffee. She looked down at the paper and found a list of casualties. Indeed, the great wizard Dumbledore had perished, along with a team of English Aurors, among others. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody, Sturgis Podmore – none of the names she recognized, yet she felt a tiny piece of her heart go out to all those who gave their lives.
Emily remained quiet, "Are you all right?" Holly asked, nudging the smaller woman.
That seemed to snap Emily out of her reverie, "Huh? Yeah, I'm fine." She replied automatically.
Holly gave her a look.
Emily sighed, "It's just, I never thought a great wizard like Dumbledore would be brought down…ever."
Holly grabbed her sister's hand, "Em, things happen in war – "
"Hols-"
Holly held up her hand, "Just hear me out. You know, sometimes even the greatest wizards can't dodge a Kill-"
"Holly, I-"
"No, no need to explain, Em. I understand-"
"Holly!"
"For pity's sake, I'm just trying to be the 'comforting big sister' to you!" Holly said indignantly.
"Much as I appreciate that, there are more important matters at hand."
"Like?"
"Like your kitchen is on fire."
Holly dropped the mug of coffee she was holding and sprinted towards the kitchen. Emily sat at the table, very much amused. She heard Holly utter an extinguishing charm five times (intermingled with curses) before her sister emerged from the kitchen, black from smoke and soaking from head to toe, a lock of hair on the right side of her head was noticeably shorter and still smoking.
Emily looked at her sister with raised eyebrows, "Holly, why is your hair-"
Holly glared at her sister and growled, "I don't want to talk about it."
As Holly stomped out of the kitchen, Emily called out, "But where are you going?"
"Taking a shower!" Holly yelled behind her. As she ascended the steps, she could hear her sister laughing. Holly jabbed her wand at the kitchen, muttering under her breath. Suddenly Emily's laughter stopped and she shrieked in surprise. A smile appeared on the blonde's face as she continued on her way to the bathroom.
Two weeks passed by quickly for Holly. Emily was still a bit mad that Holly had set her hair on fire, but seemed to retain a joyous mood like the rest of the wizarding community of Salem. Pubs remained open and shops closed – now was a time for celebrating, now that the world was free from Voldemort. Everyone was celebrating, even Delia Quiggle, Holly and Emily's mother, hosted a huge party for all of their close family and friends – and champagne and firewhisky flowed freely. Talk was light and joyful – two things it hadn't been for the last several years. Everybody was happy.
"Holly, dearest, are you enjoying yourself?" asked Holly's father, Amos, handing her a full flute of champagne.
Holly smiled, "Yes, Dad. I'm having a great time," she said, "But I think Mom and Emily are having the greatest time of anyone here." She giggled, pointing to her mother and sister.
Amos' eyes followed Holly's outstretched arm and saw Delia and Emily, collapsed on the couch giggling like mischievous hyenas, two glasses clinking with ice and firewhisky in their hands.
The two petite brunettes saw Amos' amused gaze.
"Having fun, darling?" Delia asked, her chocolate eyes glassy.
"Yes, dear," the raven-haired man replied, his own brown eyes twinkling.
At his answer, Emily and her mother burst into laughter anew.
"Those two are a trip, as the younger generation like to say," Amos commented.
Holly laughed, "Yes, Dad, they sure are."
Holly slept soundly that night, whether from happiness or the three glasses of champagne the night before. She awoke the next morning to a light tapping noise at her window. Opening her emerald eyes just a crack; she was nearly blinded by the bright sunlight streaming in through her window.
She pulled the blanket back over her head and willed herself to go back to sleep, but the tapping at the window grew more insistent. Groaning, she flung the covers off of her and reluctantly swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she noticed that the tapping at her window was being made by a small brown owl who sat on the windowsill outside.
"Who sends mail first thing in the morning?" she grumbled as she opened the window and let the brown owl fly into her bedroom.
The owl landed gracefully on the bedpost and Holly noticed a letter tied to its leg. Holly untied the letter and sat back down on the bed, examining it.
"To Holly Quiggle, 478 Ashwinder Way, Salem," she read out loud.
Turning over the envelope she broke open the red wax seal and pulled out two pieces of parchment, adorned with strict, straight black inked letters.
"Dear Ms. Quiggle," she read the letter aloud, "I am writing to inform you that your application for Professor of Transfiguration has been accepted. Please send your reply back with Orleans. Should you agree, please arrive at the school no later than July 25. Very Respectfully, Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She looked at the owl, which she surmised was the Orleans mentioned in the letter.
"You know, I must have sent that application in five years ago," she said ruefully.
Orleans hooted in reply, and pecked her hand gently.
"All right, all right. No need to twist my arm! I accept!" she laughed. Walking over to her dresser, she picked up her quill and scrawled her response before sending Orleans back to Headmistress McGonagall.
"You're moving?" Emily asked incredulously later that morning.
"Yep," replied Holly, watching her parents' faces as they read the letter.
"England's ages from here."
Holly gave her sister an unbelieving look, "What? You can Apparate or take a Portkey, you know."
Emily grumbled in reply.
"Well we think it's great, honey," Amos said, "Don't we Delia?"
Delia looked worried, "Emily's right. England is so far away…"
"Mom!" Holly was indignant, "I'm twenty seven years old for Merlin's sake, not three! Besides, where else will I work?"
"You can stay here and get a job at that restaurant Emily manages," Delia's response was weak and she knew it.
"Mom, I tried that four months ago, remember? The witch in charge of the kitchens almost killed me when I almost burned her place down trying to make…"
"Toast?" interrupted Emily in a sugar sweet voice, smiling broadly.
Holly glared at her, "Oh please! Like you could..."
"I can!"
"Whatever."
Amos cleared his throat loudly, catching the attention of his wife and daughters.
Holly blushed but continued, "Mom, I'm going anyway. I just wanted to let you know. I thought you'd be happy for me."
"We are honey, it's just –"
"Just what?"
Amos took charge, "What your mother means, Holly, is that we are very happy that you got this job. If you're happy, we're happy," he said with finality, spearing his wife with a "be quiet and be happy for our daughter" look.
Delia smiled slowly, and nodded her assent.
Holly sighed in relief, "Thank Merlin," she said, "because I'm leaving tomorrow."
"Mother, is all of this really necessary?" Holly asked, regarding the overflowing trunk in the middle of the bedroom. Mother and daughter were spending the day at Holly's tiny townhouse, packing up most of her belongings into the huge trunk.
Delia gave her daughter a look, "Of course it is. Besides, England's a very cold and wet country. I won't have you catching your death. And anyway, it's always nice to have new robes."
The day before, Delia, Holly, and Emily had Apparated to New York City and did a bit of shopping after Amos talked her mother into being sensible about this job offer. They had stopped at a famous boutique of famed fashion wizard Paolo Pontaliano, and Delia decided to overload Holly with brand new robes, for good luck, or so she said. Delia Quiggle loved to shop and used any excuse to make an opportunity.
"Mom, I don't wear robes everyday," Holly said, "I always end up falling flat on my face and in the summer I'm constantly performing cooling spells on myself."
Delia clucked her tongue, "Honey, I know that" she stressed, "but they're English. They wear robes all of the time, and will expect you to do the same. Always so proper and whatnot."
Holly rolled her emerald eyes.
"How are we supposed to close this stupid trunk?" she sighed, twirling her wand between her fingers.
Now it was Delia's turn to roll her eyes, "Idiot girl, you ever hear of a shrinking spell?" she asked teasingly.
Holly blushed crimson, as her wand slipped from her fingers.
"Right, I knew that."
The afternoon of July 20, Holly found herself and all of her luggage in Salem's Apparition Licensing and Portkey Authorization Office. She had planned to take a Portkey to London, where she would then have all of her things shipped to Hogwarts via the Magical Parcel Service (more commonly known as MPS) located in Diagon Alley, and then she would Apparate to Hogsmeade, a small town near Hogwarts, and from there she would take the Floo Network (a method of transportation Holly despised worse than flying on a broomstick) over to the Castle.
It was simple enough, and within 45 minutes, Holly found herself entangled in her cloak and half-way falling out of a fireplace. When she finally untangled herself from the navy blue folds, she saw a room full of the faculty, and all of them were wearing poorly hidden expressions of amusement. Brushing a stray lock of golden hair from her face, she smiled weakly.
A tall witch at the head of the room looked at her sternly, as if appraising her. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Quiggle."
