Evangeline should have known the week would be peculiar when her uncle came to visit. He was a quite busy man and she had become used to thinking of him as a man who would gladly sleep under his desk if they let him. She had even said so the time that he caught her looking for a camp bed in his private office on Downing Street.

Uncle James rarely came to call at their house, but that wasn't the most bizarre thing about his appearance on the doorstep. It was that he was hanging back and deferring to a tall, black man who she could have sworn had once been his secretary.

"Hello, ma'am," the secretary said. "A pleasure to see you again."

"And you, Kingsley," Mum replied with her usual talent for remembering faces. "This is quite a surprise."

It was a few days before Evangeline's birthday, so she expected a cheery card and a book in the post instead of a personal visit.

"Come in, the both of you," Dad called from her side. "Or do you need to check for intruders?"

"Already done, Mr. Fawcett," Kingsley responded. "Thank you."

Uncle James still had yet to say anything, but he kissed Mum affectionately on the cheek and embraced Dad briefly once he'd crossed the threshold. When he came to Evangeline, he clapped a hand on her shoulder.

"The girl of the hour," he commented. "Looking forward to your birthday?"

"Yes, Uncle." She would have felt a bit silly telling the former Prime Minister about her plans to go to an arcade, even if he was her mum's only brother. "Mum's promised to make chocolate cake with raspberry filling. I could save you a slice if you like."

"I'd like that," James agreed. "Can we sit down somewhere?"

Within a minute, Uncle was in his usual chair by the fireplace and Kingsley was helping Mum carry in drinks for all of them. Dad prattled on about a recent vote he'd been following and Uncle James gave an honest opinion that sounded less rehearsed than anything he said in the papers.

The moment drinks were handed around, though, Dad broke off the chat about the vote and cleared his throat quietly. "So, to what do we owe the pleasure of an unscheduled visit?"

"It was Kingsley's suggestion," Uncle admitted. "Most unexpectedly, he has business with my favorite niece and I couldn't resist sitting in on the meeting."

"Business?" Evangeline echoed.

"It's about your school career," Uncle's secretary explained.

"I'm going to Abbots Bromley like Mum did," she boasted. "They have an equestrian centre."

"I'm sure it's well-regarded," Kingsley interjected, "but we were hoping that you might reconsider."

Mum looked slightly taken aback at the audacity of that idea. Dad grunted in mild amusement and asked if he had clearance to know why a school was off-limits. Evangeline got straight to the point.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," he said. "I'm sure it's turned out many fine students. But there are schools worldwide which educate students with specific qualities and I'd say that Abbots Bromley is not one of them."

"What sort of specific qualities?" Dad asked.

"Magic."

The answer came, incredibly, from Uncle James. All three Fawcetts waited for the punchline of whatever joke he was attempting to tell. After a half-minute of silence, he elaborated.

"There are schools for witches and wizards in some parts of the world," James said. "One of them is right here in Britain."

"I'm sorry," Mum blurted out. "You said there are schools for…"

"Witches and wizards, yes," James finished. "I have made the acquaintance of a number of them, Kingsley included."

But that wasn't right. Witches wore pointed hats. Wizards waved magic wands and wore long robes. They didn't wear suits and work in offices.

"And your daughter."

"What makes you think so?" Evangeline challenged. "I can't turn anyone into a newt."

"Not until you take a few Transfiguration classes," Kingsley chuckled, "but your uncle tells me you're something of a local hero."

That comment brought a blush to her face. The incident in question had happened two years ago on a school trip. Her boat had capsized in a strong current and two of her classmates might have drowned if Evangeline, the strongest swimmer in her class, hadn't intervened.

"I just helped," she said.

"Your magic just helped," Uncle James asserted. "You were brave and strong, but I have it on good authority that your swimming skills were not the only reason you saved your friends' lives."

"But that was one time," she protested. "What if it's the only time I do something extraordinary?"

Mum was the one to laugh this time. "If it counts that you have an unusual knack for finding lost things and landing on your feet after a fall, it's not."

"The world you've lived in until now thinks that magic means flashy battles and spectacular vanishing acts," Kingsley added. "In our world, magic can be used for something as simple as repairing a broken plate."

At a temporary loss for something to say, Evangeline looked to Dad. He was studying Uncle James as if his wife's brother had been tricking him for years.

"When did you discover this brave new world?"

It was Uncle's turn to look slightly abashed. "I didn't," he admitted. "One of Kingsley's predecessors invited himself to my office during my first week as Prime Minister."

"And you believed him?"

"He traveled by fireplace and turned my teacup into a gerbil," James stated. "I had little choice but to believe him."

"A gerbil," Mum echoed. "You mean to say that the furball in Evangeline's room was once Lennox china?"

"The very same."

"In a few years, Evangeline would be able to do the same," Kingsley pointed out. "The school teaches Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Astronomy—"

"You still haven't said what school," Dad protested.

The envelope Kingsley extended was inscribed to Ms. Evangeline Fawcett in green ink, even noting that she had the second bedroom on the left to herself. Mum and Dad crowded around to read over her shoulder. When they had all reached the end of the letter and glanced over the supplies, Dad spoke up.

"And what is the cost of this extraordinary education?"

"There is no tuition, so the only cost comes from the supply list in your hand," he explained.

"And this is in earnest?" he asked.

"Andrew," Mum chided, "when have you ever known my brother to have this sense of humor?"

It was true. Uncle James usually told jokes that he had memorized to impress the children in his life or ones that had been written carefully by someone on his staff. He wasn't known for playing pranks.

"What do you think?" Uncle James addressed Evangeline without bothering to respond to Mum's jibe. "Would you like to try this?"

As intriguing as it sounded, all she knew about Hogwarts was that it was a place to unlock powers she didn't understand and term started on September 1.

"If I don't like it, can I change my mind?"

"If they give you any trouble, they'll answer to me," Uncle promised in something like a growl.

That was reassuring, but didn't answer her question. "But what if it turns out I don't want to be a witch?"

"Then you're perfectly within your rights to withdraw and see how you like the equestrian centre at Abbots Bromley," Kingsley assured her. "The last thing we want is to make your life miserable."

She still had no proof that this wasn't a mistake, but she was interested in this the same way that she had once been fascinated by gymnastics classes. She liked the idea and would only know if it was awful or awesome by giving it a try.

With faith in the chance that this might be extraordinary, she answered, "How do I accept?"

Mum and Dad threw themselves into preparations. They let a friendly witch named Hermione show them around Diagon Alley while she told them about coming from a family just like theirs. Mum hand-sewed the name tags into her work robes and tried to talk her into getting an owl to make writing home easier.

In the end, the only pet to come with her to Hogwarts was her unusually long-lived gerbil. It wasn't one of the pets listed, but as Uncle James said, the letter said nothing about bringing a teacup to wizard school.