Parallel Story

Chapter 1

Julia Thorne had lived at 7 Privet Drive in Little Whinging since just after her tenth birthday. Her parents had moved, rather hurriedly it seemed, from their home in upstate New York, in the United States, immediately after school let out in mid-June. Julia's father had been born in England and had met Julia's mother on an archeological expedition. They married and "settled" in New York, in a small community called Ephratah. Julia always used air quotes when even thinking the term "settled", because although she was settled, her parents never settled anywhere. They were no more "settled" in Little Whinging than they had been in Ephratah. They were always off on another expedition, leaving Julia in the care of a competent and loving housekeeper, but a housekeeper nonetheless. The month they spent in Little Whinging, immediately upon moving there, was one of the longest stretches Julia could recall in which they'd been home. David and Angela Thorne were not cruel people, they were simply very wrapped up in their work and in each other, and had never quite gotten over the shock of finding themselves parents. Indeed, every time they'd returned to Ephratah, they appeared surprised at the young girl who greeted them at the door. It was a pleasant surprise, to be sure. For her part, Julia regarded Mrs. Compton, the housekeeper and guardian, as a parent figure. Mrs. Compton signed school permission slips and arranged sleep overs with friends. David and Angela were like an indulgent aunt and uncle who visited periodically. Still, Julia often wished her parents were more like the parents of her friends.

Despite her unusual home life, Julia was a happy child overall; she had, by nature, a sunny disposition and an optimistic outlook on life. She was small for her age, with black hair and very dark blue eyes. She overheard an acquaintance tell Mrs. Compton that "the child got the best features of both parents." She considered herself fairly average: she liked to play with Barbie and baby dolls, as did her friends; indeed, the only things that might be considered unusual was her love of reading and the fact that she often "knew" things. Even as a small girl, she knew when someone around her was troubled, even if they took great pains to hide their turmoil. Someone once remarked to her parents that they were to be credited for raising such a wonderfully empathetic child. David and Angela had only looked at each other knowingly. Julia was also very good at finding lost things. Mrs. Compton had misplaced the remote for the television, and was momentarily caught off guard when four year old Julia handed her the device from where it had fallen, even though Mrs. Compton had never actually stated what she was looking for. By the time Julia was ten, Mrs. Compton was no longer surprised by any unusual events or insights that originated with her charge.

Julia discovered early on that there were things she didn't need to know, and even more that she didn't want to know. It was increasingly difficult to act surprised over Christmas and birthday gifts and by the time she was five, Julia was devising methods to keep unwanted insights out. She began mentally constructing walls of cinder block in her mind after hearing her kindergarten teacher remark to a colleague that a certain little boy had a head like the cinder block walls of the classroom and said: "There's nothing getting through that." Julia understood enough to know that cinder block was a good material to use if one wanted to keep things in, or out (much later she understood that the remark was also particularly unkind). If she concentrated hard enough, this was a very effective method of minding her own business. Stray thoughts sometimes made their way through, but all Julia had to do was picture the brightly painted cinder block walls of her kindergarten classroom to push them back out. It took her a bit longer to realize however, that her special insight wasn't a trait shared by her friends. In that respect, she knew she was definitely not average. She learned very quickly to keep her thoughts to herself, lest her friends consider her weird.

The summer before her tenth birthday Julia overhead her parents, really overheard them; they were having a conversation that Julia was certain concerned her, however didn't make much sense. "What is Ilvermorny?" she wondered. Part of the conversation centered around Julia being sent to that place, wherever it was. Or whatever it was. It was awkward because she couldn't very well admit that she'd been eavesdropping, but she was dying to know what it was all about. Her parents left for an expedition soon after and Julia spent a lot of time trying to devise a scheme to figure out what the conversation had been about, once her parents returned. She tried Mrs. Compton out by casually mentioning Ilvermorny one morning during breakfast, however Mrs. C. had looked convincingly blank. David and Angela returned a week before Christmas and between shopping, decorating and school concerts, all thoughts of the mysterious place – for Julia was convinced that Ilvermorny was a place, not a who – were forgotten. Her parents were preoccupied as well, and more than once Julia caught them looking over their shoulder, as if they thought they might be followed. Julia caught a fleeting thought of her mother's that involved a mental picture of packing boxes, and the next thing she knew, they were on an airplane, flying to the place of her father's birth: England. Julia had overheard her father saying something about "communities better equipped to deal with us", and "blending in". Julia's father was of average height and weight, with reddish brown hair and blue eyes, her mother was also average sized, although Julia considered her quite beautiful, with dark, almost black hair, and blue eyes. Julia had never considered that parents were in any way unusual, other than their eccentric lifestyle. The idea that they weren't able to blend in where they were was something Julia simply couldn't understand. "Maybe England likes archeologists better?" she mused wonderingly. Once the decision was made to go to England however, David and Angela relaxed, and sensing that, Julia relaxed as well. She pumped her father for information about his homeland and learned that they drove on the opposite side of the road, and since she was partial to pastries, she would probably enjoy a dessert known as a treacle tart. They moved into Number 7 Privet Drive, a neat little house set among neat little houses, all with tidy gardens. Mrs. Compton, sadly did not make the move with the Thornes, and that was the one great sadness that Julia was forced to live with. Mrs. C. simply could not go off to a new country; she had no husband or children, however she had a sister who would miss her too badly. So, for a month after the move, David and Angela found themselves interviewing for a housekeeper/guardian for Julia. The search didn't seem to be going very well as none of the women were exactly what the Thornes required. A few of them Julia rejected personally; it did not occur to her that this was an unusual accommodation for parents to make for a child. If she had made any new friends, they would not have hesitated to tell her how odd that was, parents listening to a child's opinion. However, as David and Angela had always allowed Julia this latitude, she didn't consider it in the least bit unusual. She would not understand for a while exactly why her parents had always trusted her opinions.

One day Angela was explaining their need to a neighbor who had come to visit, bringing a fruit cake as a welcome gift. Mrs. Figg actually lived two streets away, on Wisteria Walk, and Julia thought it odd that she'd somehow heard there were new neighbors from two blocks away. As if sensing suspicion, Mrs. Figg mentioned that she was acquainted with the Dursleys across the street, and Mrs. Dursley had mentioned that a new family had moved in. Julia suspected there might still be more to the story, however she knew that Mrs. Dursley was very nosy, she had observed their neighbor more than once peeking from behind the drapes in her living room. However, sensing no threat from Mrs. Figg, Julia relaxed, especially when Mrs. Figg offered to introduce her to her cats. Like most children, she liked animals and Mrs. Figg had a multitude of cats coming and going. Mrs. Figg mentioned to David and Angela that she had a friend who had acted as a housekeeper and Nanny to a family before the children all went off to boarding school. As the youngest was close to finishing his first year at said school (Julia sensed very strongly that Mrs. Figg was very deliberately not mentioning the name of the school), and as her friend had enjoyed as much leisure time as she cared to, she was ready to find another post. Would Mr. & Mrs. Thorne be interested in meeting with her friend, Mrs. Delia Grigsby? Indeed they would, David and Angela agreed eagerly.

The following Saturday, the day Mrs. Grigsby was coming to meet the Thornes, Julia was outside with a jump rope. She had given up any pretense of actually using it however, and was instead watching the two little Dursley boys across the street. She had seen them briefly on one or two other occasions, and she thought now, as she had then, how very strange is was that two brothers could look so different. The older one, whom Julia guessed to be about six, was as round as he was tall, blond and mean. His little brother, in contract, was short, with dark hair that never looked as if it had been combed. As if to accent his small frame, his clothes always looked as if they were three sizes too big. The jeans were cuffed and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

This morning, the older boy was showing off a new red tricycle. Soon however, he grew bored and abandoned the toy to go pull the blooms off the flowers in his mother's garden. After glancing quickly to ensure that his brother was fully occupied in the destruction of his mother's garden, the smaller boy climbed onto the tricycle and began to pedal slowly. He had gone about six feet along the sidewalk when the blond boy roared "Get off!" He went charging along the sidewalk toward his brother and the tricycle at approximately the same time Julia dropped the jump rope and ran across the street. She knew exactly what Blondie had in mind and Harry ("that's his name," she thought without any trace of wonder, "his name is Harry and …Dudley is going to murder him."), poor little Harry would not be able to defend himself. Three things happened very quickly: Dudley (she was as sure of his name as she had been of Harry's) roared again and reached for Harry, she reached her arm between them and felt something like a mild electric shock, and then Dudley fell backward as if a large, invisible hand had shoved him. The fine hairs on Julia's arm were standing straight up, and although she was usually pretty quick to assess any situation, she was confused. She looked at Harry, who looked frightened. Before anyone could say anything, the front door of the Dursley house opened and Mrs. Dursley came running out, screaming "Diddykins what happened? Are you hurt?" Diddykins, er, Dudley howled as if on cue. Mrs. Dursley glared at Harry and through clenched teeth demanded "What did you do to him?" At this, Julia felt as if a fog had lifted from her brain. "He didn't do anything Mrs. Dursley, I saw the whole thing and he…" she paused. How could she possibly explain what had happened? "I think Dudley must have tripped, honestly, Harry didn't touch him," she finished, somewhat lamely. "My friends fight with their brothers and sisters all the time," she offered helpfully. "They are not brothers," Mrs. Dursley told her, teeth clenched once more, "they are cousins." She helped Dudley to his feet and with promises of ice cream, led him into the house, leaving Harry, and a somewhat bemused Julia, on the front sidewalk. She turned at looked at Harry. He had the look of a child who was uncared for: his hair was untidy, his clothes were not only too big but were clearly worn and he looked as if he could use a bath and a good meal. Still, he met Julia's gaze steadily, with the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen, and he smiled at her. "How old are you Harry?" she asked softly. If he was surprised that she knew his name, he didn't let on. "Almost four," he replied, "Dudley just turned four so I'll be four next." Julia was on the verge of asking if there would be a party, but something about Harry made her sad. She knew, without asking, that there would be no party and that little Harry would be lucky to get a gift. Just then, a small red car turned into the Thornes drive and she remembered why she had come out in the first place: to wait for Mrs. Grigsby, to get a first look at her. She turned back to Harry: "I have to go," she said, "we've got company." Looking hard at Harry she thought: "I'll be your friend." He gazed at her steadily, then nodded and turned away, back to the tricycle. She watched him for another minute, then turned to her house, where a petite blond woman was emerging from the red car, with a tote bag nearly as large as she was. She looked across the street at Harry first, and Julia had a strong sensation that she knew him. "No," she thought, "she knows about him, she doesn't know him personally." The woman looked from Harry to Julia, who was crossing the street to meet her. She smiled and Julia smiled back. "This is the one," she whispered, with a pang of sadness because it would mean that her parents would settle the new housekeeper in and then they'd be off on another expedition. Still, Julia felt nothing but warmth from Mrs. Grigsby. Once inside, after welcoming the applicant, Julia's parents looked at her quickly. She nodded and for good measure, gave a thumbs up. David and Angela smiled and nodded their understanding. After that, all that was left were the formalities.

Chapter 2

David and Angela stayed another ten days before leaving for their dig. Angela was especially excited: she specialized in archeoastronomy and workers at the dig site reported that they had uncovered a series of stone formations that might indicate a special alignment with the stars. Still, they made sure that Julia was enrolled in the local primary school and that all the legal papers were signed for, and with, Mrs. Grigsby. These would allow her to act, in their absence, on Julia's behalf. Accounts at local shops and the bank were established and affairs were generally put in order. Before the end of July, Angela and Delia Grigsby stood in the driveway and watched as a taxi took David and Angela to the airport.

Once the taxi was out of sight, Mrs. Grigsby put her arm around Julia's shoulders and said "Why don't we go down to the shop and buy some groceries?" Julia welcomed the diversion. On the walk to the store, Mrs. Grigsby chattered about the last family she had been with before the youngest ("Daniel," Julia thought absent mindedly) went off to boarding school. Without thinking, Julia asked "What year is Daniel in now Mrs. Grigsby?" She caught the mistake almost immediately – Mrs. Grigsby had never actually said the name of her former charge out loud – but it was too late, she couldn't take it back. Mrs. Grigsby didn't seem to notice however, and replied: "He will be starting second term in about four weeks." Julia didn't see the satisfied smile on Delia Grigsby's face since she turned her head slightly, as if watching for traffic. Julia wasn't aware that she had passed some sort of test.

At the market, Julia helped Mrs. Grigsby select items for dinner. As they neared the check out line, they passed a small display of toys. Mrs. Grigsby paused near plastic packets of small toy soldiers. The packet contained a dozen of the tiny men, posed in various combat positions. Mrs. Grigsby selected a packet and placed it in her basket; looking at Julia she smiled and said: "You never know who's having a birthday, it's always nice to keep something handy." Julia stared at her: it was very apparent to her that there was something Mrs. Grigsby wasn't saying. She tried to probe her guardian's mind, however was met with an image of a smooth blank wall. She stared at the woman in amazement: that wall was very much like her own cinder block wall. But surely…Mrs. Grigsby turned to Julia and smiled. Although she never said a word, Julia heard, quite clearly: "Home." She nodded, still too surprised to speak. Someone else was like her? Wow! Julia was excited and impatient during the walk home, and if she were being totally honest, she was a little nervous too. At home, Julia was so curious and so surprised, she didn't know where to begin. Finally Mrs. Grigsby said: "You thought you were the only one?" Julia nodded. "No child," Mrs. Grigsby replied, "your gift is unusual, but you're not alone. I must say though, it's exceptionally strong for one so young and untrained. And your method of blocking intruders is quite effective." She laughed quietly. Julia finally found her tongue. "How did you know?" she asked. Mrs. Grigsby was thoughtful, and Julia instinctively knew better than to either hurry her or poke around for the answer. After a few seconds, Mrs. Grigsby said: "You must understand that what you and I speak about is not to be repeated to anyone except your parents. I will never ask you to keep anything important from your parents, however you can't speak of this to anyone else unless I've given permission. Is that understood?" Julia nodded and another sudden burst of understanding came to her: this was why they'd had to move, whatever this was, it was directly linked to their sudden move. Delia Grigsby nodded; "Yes Julia," she replied in answer to the unspoken question, "your parents had come to the attention of people who don't understand and aren't fond of people like us. They decided to come back to England where it's a bit easier to get along. England has been dealing with us for so much longer." And she chuckled again. "People like us?" Julia whispered.

Julia sat at the kitchen table in a state of bewilderment and excitement so intense she thought she might throw up. Her thoughts were whirling and incoherent, nothing was making sense. She had learned to keep her abilities a secret, only to learn that there were, apparently, others just like her. Finally Delia sat down and said softly: "Julia Thorne, I have every reason to believe, and your parents agree, that you are magical. Your mum is a witch and your dad is a wizard. And I'm a witch." She sat watching Julia closely. Julia wasn't sure what she had been expecting to hear, it wasn't that, and yet somehow, it didn't come as quite the shock it might have. She was an intelligent and well read child and suddenly, as if she had finally found the last two pieces of a thousand piece puzzle, everything fit. Everything. The way she knew things, the way she could almost read someone's mind, the way she knew the little boy's names from across the street…the boys… She looked at her guardian closely. "Harry is having a birthday sometime soon, I remember him saying that…Mrs. Grigsby, what exactly happened that day on the sidewalk with Harry and Dudley? Was that…me?" Mrs. Grigsby sighed and said "I didn't see it Julia, I arrived immediately after. I knew something had happened but I didn't see the incident at all. Can you tell me what happened?" So Julia told her the story, about the electric current and Dudley landing on his fat bottom although no one had touched him. Delia thought a moment and then said: "Remember, confidential," and without waiting for Julia to nod she continued: "that's Harry Potter. You won't know, although I know that your father does, but that's a story for another time. Harry is undoubtedly a very young wizard. What you've described could have easily been done by either of you. If you were excited and afraid, you could have unknowingly reacted and given Dudley a shove. The same could be said for little Harry, and it's more likely that the reaction was his, his fear would have been much greater than yours." At this her face darkened. Julia was so full of questions, she didn't know where to begin. She sensibly kept quiet, letting Mrs. Grigsby tell the story in her own way. "It's no accident that I came to you, Julia," she went on. "Arabella sensed something special about you and suggested to Albus Dumbledore that under the circumstances, a witch would probably be the best guardian for you." Julia blinked, as if the lights had brightened suddenly; "Arabella who? And who is Albus Dum…Dumble-what's-his-name?" Delia Grigsby laughed and rose from her chair. She poured two glasses of lemonade and placed some cookies ("Biscuits" Julia corrected herself) on a plate. "Arabella Figg child, and Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster at Hogwart's School, which trains young witches and wizards in all sorts of magic. That's where I went to school, once I turned 11." "Wait," Julia sputtered, "Mrs. Figg is a witch?" She felt stupid and slow suddenly. It seemed that everything she knew, had intuited, or thought she knew was at best, only half the story. Delia sighed; there was so much to explain. "Julia", she began, "for some reason your parents chose to live as non-magical a life as they could. I'm sure they had their reasons: I know your dad lived through the horrors that eventually caused the death of little Harry's parents." She nodded her head in the direction of the Dursley's house across the street. "I knew your father years ago, before he moved to America and married your mother. That was during the time of a very bad, very dark wizard who gathered many followers. Although the wizard was himself a half-blood, he had a mania, a strong belief that wizarding blood should be kept pure. His father was a Muggle," at Julia's blank look she added: "a non-magical person, who abandoned his mother. He decided that he hated all Muggles and many, many non-magical people were killed during his time. Your father was part of a group of young people who placed protective charms over the houses of their Muggle neighbors and anyone else they could find." Julia sat quietly, trying mightily to comprehend what she had been told. "Did my dad fight in a war?" she asked quietly. "Not exactly," Delia explained, "however he did fight skirmishes here and there, and assisted unknown numbers of Muggles by keeping them safe from attacks. He caused enough chaos to the other side that he, and many others, had a price on their heads. The dark wizard wanted them stopped and authorized whatever means were necessary. That is when your father left England. He attended graduate school in America, met your mother on a dig, and the rest, as they say, is history." She looked intently at Julia to see how she was taking these revelations. Julia couldn't find the word to describe how she was feeling, but suddenly she was angry: "Why did they never tell me any of this?" she cried finally. Betrayal, that's the word she had been searching for. "All these years, I thought there was something wrong with me, I had to keep secrets because I thought there was something wrong with me." At this she burst into tears; as she was not a particularly weepy child this startled her for a moment. Delia Grigsby, however, was not the least bit surprised; she had been expecting something like this. She gathered Julia into her arms and rocked her, patting her back and letting her cry. When Julia's sobs had subsided to sniffles, she placed the girl back on her chair and wiped her face with a cool, damp cloth. "Julia," she said carefully, "your mum and dad love you. You know that right?" Julia nodded. "I don't know why they never told you any of this, truthfully, they don't know why they never told you. They had intended to, but wanted to wait until you were older. And once you were clearly old enough to understand, they never found the right time or the right words. I insisted, however, that you absolutely had to know. Since they had left America, you would not be attending Ilvermorny." At that, Julia perked up. That word, why did she know that word? Seeing this, Delia explained: "Ilvermorny is a school in America, for young witches and wizards. It is located in the mountains in western New England, I can't remember where exactly. In any event, children like you are invited to attend after their eleventh birthday." Julia sighed; that wasn't about to happen now, and she felt a sadness. It would be nice to know people who wouldn't think she was weird, it would be nice to be able to share secrets with friends who would understand. Delia took Julia's hands in hers and smiled. "Ilvermorny isn't the only school of its kind in the world you know," she said, "America is much younger than England after all. Where do you think they got the idea of a school for magical children? We have one right here in Great Britain, and Albus Dumbledore is its headmaster, remember I mentioned it? And unless I am very much mistaken, you will receive an invitation to attend after you've turned eleven." "Hogwarts," Julia whispered. "Yes," replied Mrs. Grigsby, "Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore is aware of you of course, he doesn't miss much, if anything. Meanwhile it is my job to look after you and teach you a few things so that you will be prepared when your letter arrives." Julia suddenly, surprisingly, felt overwhelmed and exhausted. Without saying a word, she walked out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs to her room, where she crawled onto her bed. She reached for Hunny, her stuffed rabbit that she'd had since forever, although he hadn't done anything except decorate her bed since her fifth birthday. But suddenly she needed nothing more complicated than that well-worn toy. Clutching him to her chest, she curled up on her side, and closed her eyes. She felt Mrs. Grigsby cover her with the afghan and that's the last thing she knew before she drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 3

When Julia awoke it was still light outside and she understood dimly that she hadn't slept long. Still she felt calm and revived; her parents were unusual, she had always understood that, and now understood it better than ever. Her child's mind made very simple work of the situation: it was what it was, it wouldn't change. Her dad and mom loved her, and were preoccupied and single minded. All those things were true. "And he's a wizard and she's a witch," she whispered softly, just to see what would happen when she said it out loud. Nothing did and although she didn't know what she had been expecting, Julia was encouraged and took this as a good sign.

She made her way downstairs to the kitchen where Mrs. Grigsby was starting dinner. Her guardian looked at her quickly, and seeming satisfied with what she saw, turned back to the vegetables she was preparing for a salad. She said to Julia over her shoulder, "I understand this has been a lot to take in. I think that for now, I won't tell you anymore," and seeing Julia's look of alarm, added: "I will, however, answer any questions you have. Ask me whatever you'd like, anything at all." Julia considered this; there was so much she wanted to know, what would she ask first? And was surprised, of all the first questions she might have asked, to hear herself say: "Mrs. Figg is a witch too?" Mrs. Grigsby, finished with the salad, wiped her hands on a towel and replied: "No, Arabella, unfortunately, is a Squib."
"What's a Squib?" Julia didn't like the sound of the word, it sounded like an insult.

"A Squib is a non-magical person," Mrs. Grigsby said. "But," Julia frowned slightly, "you said that a Muggle was a non-magical person." Delia smiled. "A Muggle is a non-magical person born into a non-magical family," she explained, "A Squib is a non-magical person born into a magical family. See the difference?" Julia did immediately. "So Mrs. Figg's whole family was magical and she isn't? She must feel so left out. That's why she always looks a little sad." Delia nodded, "That's very true. Arabella Figg might be a bit…different, but she has a good heart and she's a good friend." Julia considered her next question. "Tell me about Harry," she said. Delia sighed; she wasn't sure where to begin. Finally she said: "Harry's mum and dad were James and Lily Potter. They were part of an organization that openly fought the dark wizard and his allies." Julia interrupted her: "What's the dark wizard's name?" It occurred to her that her guardian had never referred to him as anything other than "the dark wizard", which, upon consideration, Julia found odd. Delia drew herself up and replied: "I will not speak his name. His given name was Tom Riddle however I will not speak the name he gave himself when he came into power. And," she looked at Julia a little sternly before continuing, "neither will anyone else. We call him "He Who Must Not Be Named", or simply the dark wizard. His followers called him "The Dark Lord." Julia was mystified, however nodded her head in agreement. Satisfied, Delia continued: "There are many rumors regarding his reasons, and I am unsure of the truth, however the dark wizard was determined that Harry Potter, who was just a baby at the time, posed a threat to him. This information was immediately shared with James and Lily and they went into hiding with baby Harry. Unfortunately, their hiding place was betrayed," here her face darkened ominously and Julia had a glimpse of a handsome, dark haired man before it was gone. That, she supposed, must have been the man who betrayed Harry's parents, and she felt a sudden loathing. She couldn't dwell on that however, as Mrs. Grigsby was continuing her story: "The dark wizard found the family and murdered James and Lily, and he tried to kill Harry. And this is something you have to understand: he used one of what we call the Unforgivable Curses, a killing curse, and it has never been known to fail. It was 100% fatal, until the dark wizard tried it on Harry. No one knows exactly why, but it didn't kill Harry. He has a scar, I'm told, on his forehead, but he survived otherwise intact, with no real harm done. The dark wizard, however, disappeared and hasn't been seen in almost three years. Most are happy, believing him to be gone for good." Mrs. Grigsby folded and refolded a napkin nervously before she continued: "I don't believe that however, and neither does Albus Dumbledore. So we remain vigilant." Julia silently considered all she had been told, before she finally asked: "So Harry went to with the Dursleys? He is Dudley's cousin, Mrs. Dursley told me that, so she is his aunt?" Again, at the mention of the Dursleys, Delia Grigsby's face darkened. "Petunia Dursley is…was Lily Potter's sister. There is old magic that makes that home the safest place for Harry to be. Many fine wizarding families offered to take him in and raise him after…after James and Lily were killed," she paused and cleared her throat. Julia felt her sadness and so was saddened as well. After a minute Mrs. Grigsby continued: "Albus Dumbledore has always maintained, and still maintains, as far as I know, that Harry must remain at the Dursleys for his safety. I hate to criticize Dumbledore however…" she paused and looked hard at Julia. "Before I continue," she said, "I need to stress, again, that you cannot, absolutely cannot repeat this to anyone, Harry doesn't know and for the time being it must remain that way. You may discuss it with your parents when they're home but nobody else. Understood?" Julia nodded, wide eyed. This was serious: even without her intuitive abilities she would have known that. Satisfied, Mrs. Grigsby continued: "The Dursleys don't want Harry. I don't know why, I don't know if the sisters had a falling out or if Petunia and Vincent…I think his name is Vincent…are just horrible people. In any event the situation is less than ideal, to my mind, for a small child." She paused and looked at Julia; it was her turn to ask a question. "You've seen Harry. What do you think?" Julia chose her words carefully; she had been raised to respect adults and wasn't sure how honest she should be. Finally throwing caution to the wind, and sensing a kindred spirit at least where the Dursleys were concerned, she blurted: "I think you're right, I think they're horrible people. I've seen the boys outside when Mr. Dursley comes home from work. He pats Dudley on the head – because he can't pick him up anymore, Dudley is too fat, chucks him under the chin and makes a fuss over him. He ignores Harry, poor Harry just stands there looking on and he's ignored. Mrs. Dursley was convinced Harry had done something that day when Dudley fell…" Here she stopped, realization dawning on her. "Mrs. G.," she said, "Mrs. Dursley knows Harry is magical, he might not know but she does. At the time I didn't understand how she could possibly think a boy so much littler than Dudley could have pushed him down, but now it makes sense. She knows he's magical. And," she added with conviction, "she's jealous. Jealous and afraid. That's why Harry never has new clothes and looks like nobody cares about him. Because nobody does." Julia was certain she was going to start crying again, so distressed was she over the little boy with the bright green eyes. Delia placed her hand on Julia's and said softly, "A great many people care about Harry Julia, you are obviously one of them. But we need to be careful about how we show that we care. Perhaps we can take care of Harry occasionally when the Dursleys go out. Arabella says they don't often take him with them on outings. He might come here, I'll offer it to Mrs. Dursley ever so casually. But we can't be too kind or they'll get suspicious. We'd never be allowed to see him if they thought he actually enjoyed coming here." Julia brightened; she had occasionally longed for a brother or sister and she could pretend that Harry was her little brother. His hair was black like hers, they could pass as siblings she supposed. Feeling better about Harry, she found another topic of conversation. "Tell me about Hogwarts," she asked. And for the next two hours, while they ate dinner and cleaned up after, Mrs. Grigsby told Julia all about the school, in a castle way up north, how it was founded by four of the greatest magical people ever: Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin. She explained how each founder had a house named for them, and how new students were sorted into their proper house with the aid of an ancient sorting hat. She proudly informed her charge that she had been sorted into Gryffindor and went on to say that Julia's father David had been sorted into Hufflepuff. She briefly gave a description of the character traits of each founder: brave and daring Gryffindor, loyal and hardworking Hufflepuff, wise and witty Ravenclaw and cunning and ambitious Slytherin. "Where will I be placed?" Julia asked eagerly. "It's hard to say," Delia Grigsby replied, "I believe you are brave and loyal and extremely intelligent. So probably anything but Slytherin. Be assured however, that wherever the hat places you, that is where you belong. The hat is never wrong." Julia mulled this over for a bit. "Is Hogwarts a safe place?" she asked finally. "Probably the safest place in all of England," Delia replied, with a touch of pride in her voice, "Albus Dumbledore is an extremely talented wizard and has placed extra charms and protective spells on the castle and grounds." As her guardian spoke, Julia caught a glimpse of an elderly man, with long white hair, a long white beard and small eyeglasses that reminded Julia of half-moons. She couldn't make out any other distinguishing features before the vision was gone. "Will I meet any other magical families? Before I'm invited…if I am invited to go to Hogwarts?" Julia was so enthralled with the idea of this magical school that she was afraid she would jinx her chances of actually attending if she acted too sure of herself. Understanding, Delia smiled and pulled her close. "You'll be invited," she reassured her young charge. "How can you be certain?" Julia felt far less certain, despite everything she had learned. From the pocket of her apron, Delia pulled out a long thin piece of wood; Julia sputtered in amazement: "Is that a…a WAND?"
"It is indeed," Delia replied, "ten and a half inches, cherry wood with a unicorn hair core. I've had it since I was eleven years old, purchased at Ollivander's store in Diagon Alley." Julia tried mightily to process this amazing information; the use of the words "wand" and "unicorn hair" in the same sentence rendered her speechless. At least she understood "cherry wood". Smiling understandably, Delia explained: "Ollivander's is a wand store, Mr. Ollivander has been making wands for witches and wizards for years and years. Most of your classmates will have a wand that Mr. Ollivander made. Mr. Ollivander is fond of saying "the wand chooses the wizard", or in our case, the "witch". It is true of me and everyone I know. When you come across the wand meant for you, you will know." She extended the wand slightly and did a funny little movement with her wrist, sort of, Julia thought, like a swish and flick. Delia whispered: "Wingardium leviosa," and the remote control for the television set floated into the air, rising about six inches above the coffee table, where it hovered, the wand pointed directly at it. Then with another little flick, it settled back onto the surface of the table. Handing the wand to Julia, Delia said, "You try it: say "wingardium leviosa" and use the same wrist motion I did." Julia took the wand, half expecting to feel it vibrate in her hand, and half afraid she'd be turned into a frog or something. Neither of those things happened. The wand felt smooth and cool to the touch. Pointing it at the remote control, and copying the wrist motion as best she could, she whispered the incantation. The remote rocked to one side then remained still. "Very good!" Delia cried, "that's actually very good for a first time." Julia was encouraged and tried again. Finally, on her fourth try, she successfully lifted one end of the remote two inches off the table.