So, I wrote this story a long time ago. I never shared it with anyone until now. It's pretty lengthy, 411 pages in Word, so it will take some time to edit. Be patient with me, but in the meantime please review and let me know what you think!

Chapter 1

Encounter

"Oomph!" Ron struggled to keep from falling flat on his face; he steadied himself. He and Harry, the famous "Gryffindor Trio" minus one as they were called, had been walking down a muggle sidewalk in Paris. It was around seven in the evening and the sky was filled the beautiful purple, pink, and yellow pastels. Ron had been eating a large onion bagel just as they were passing a café and this caused him to not pay the greatest attention to where he was going.

White tables and chairs were strewn about the patio in front of the small business with dainty red and white streaked awning hovering over them. One of these wanton chairs was to blame for Ron's tumble as you could call it.

"Étranger!" called out the snarling café owner who now emerged from the building. He pushed his dark greasy hair out of his face and wiped his hands on his apron. "Regardez où vous allez!" His arms outstretched and he snarled again as he pushed the chair back under a table. "Regardez!" He motioned his hands at the table then pulled the chair out and pushed it back under. The man motioned again and shook his head at them.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Ron replied with a quick gesture of pulling the chair out and pushing it back under. He leapt back as the grumpy man smacked his hand away from the chair. "Clean up your bloody restaurant; why don't you?!" He could tell the man didn't speak any English by the confused look on his face so he motioned with his arms the way the man had. "Clean!" The man's face reddened as he whipped around and stormed back inside.

"Whew! I thought he would pummel me for sure Harry." said Ron.

He looked at Harry for the first time since he'd tripped. Harry was laughing at him! He'd been laughing the entire time! Ron stepped ahead of Harry and became silent suddenly.

"Oh come on Ron." The mirth in Harry's eyes was apparent; they gleamed in amusement even as Ron sulked. "You have to admit it was amusing. It's not like he threw a chair at you!" He sped up beside Ron and gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder.

"He might as well have! That was embarrassing," said Ron.

Harry thought for a second and decided to change the subject. He knew it wasn't a good idea to dwell on Ron's little mishap; he would most likely go into a list of the embarrassing things he'd done during his time at Hogwarts and Harry just wasn't in the mood to hear it all again.

"So, why did your parents decide on the trip to Paris this summer?" Harry tried to ask light-heartedly while avoiding their financial problems. He still had no idea how they afforded to take a trip to Paris.

"Oh I don't know." Ron choked down the last bit of his bagel. "I think it was nice of Professor Dumbledore to give such a large gift for their anniversary though. 414 galleons! Can you believe it? If he wasn't Dumbledore I'd think he was up to something!" He stopped in front of a bakery; the fourth that day. His eyes were widened in delight. A plethora of pastries lay just inside of the display window.

"Ron you're going to make yourself sick. We just finished dinner an hour ago and you've eaten two bagels since then!" Harry glared at him disbelievingly, his head hung and shook a few times before he turned away to rejoin their path.

Ron scowled irritably and followed Harry away from the window.

"So what? I'm still growing." He stared at the ground for a few seconds. "You sound like my mum!"

Harry half-rolled his eyes and at just that moment a sharp pain shot through his scar. The pain was so striking that it blinded him for a few seconds. When he opened his eyes he noticed he had fallen to his knees and they were hurting slightly. Ron was kneeling beside him speaking something inaudible to him. Another pain shot through his forehead. It was so painful that he could only double over and moan. His agony had dropped him in front of a dark, wet, trash-filled alleyway conveniently nestled between a flower shop and a women's fashion boutique.

He was stabbed again with that horrible, sickening sensation. Though, this time around it hadn't lasted nearly as long. Harry rocked back on his heels and ran his fingers though his dark shaggy hair.

At that moment they heard a young female voice arguing with an older male in French. The conversation seemed to become heated very quickly. Ron helped Harry to his feet and they peered hesitantly into the alley. The older man, who had to be thirty years her senior, had pinned her to the right building. She was struggling and obviously cursing him. He slapped her viciously across the face and attempted to kiss her.

Harry knew that a student using magic outside of Hogwarts was quite punishable but he couldn't allow that scum to get away with this. He drew his wand and stepped forward.

Suddenly a dark shadow flew over the boys. It smacked into a building on the other side of the street and fell to the ground in a heap. The dark mass began to move and as the man moved to his feet they noticed it who it was. It was indeed the man who had been harassing the girl.

"Diable!" The old man brushed himself off quickly and scurried away.

Harry and Ron glanced at each-other then glanced down the alleyway. The girl was breathing heaving and staring ahead of her at nothing in particular. Her cheeks were shining with tears. It took everything Harry had not to run up to the girl and comfort her.

Contempt showed wildly in her eyes and Harry couldn't help but notice that she was quite beautiful. Her dark red hair fell about her shoulders in wavy curls and ringlets and her heart shaped face made her seem approachable even in her anger. She couldn't be any shorter than five foot nine and had a thin wash of freckles on her cheeks. Her green eyes were lit by a fiery halo around her hair from the setting sun and her full mouth hung open slightly. She was slim and curvy and by the look of her she couldn't be any older than Harry or Ron.

They stared at her for a moment until she awoke from her daze. A look of horror washed over her face. She grabbed her stomach and fell against the wall and in a matter of seconds Harry's scar began to throb. The pain subsided much quicker than the episodes he'd just endured. She glanced at the two boys and with a look of shame she turned quickly and disappeared into a door in the left building.

"Ron?" said Harry.

There was no response. Ron was still staring at the spot where the girl had been standing. Harry waved a hand in front of his face.

"Ron!"

Ron blinked confusedly and shook his head.

"Sorry Harry. Are you all right? Did you see that? He just went flying!"

"Ron... She didn't even use a wand. You have to be pretty powerful to throw someone that far without a wand at our age!" He lost himself in thought for a moment. "Anyway, she was using magic outside of school. I think we ought to tell your folks about this."

"He just flew right over our heads!" Ron gave an animated replay with his arms above his head. "I just couldn't believe it! Right, Harry?" He nudged Harry and smiled excitedly. "It was bloody amazing wasn't it, Harry?" His gangly figure plopped down in a large comfy blue chair with a large raspberry pastry in his hand. They were in their Paris suite, fifth floor, and the view was amazing out of their balcony window. The room was decorated in soft off white, with royal blue curtains and matching furniture. It had definitely cost a nice penny to rent.

Ron's father sat down beside him and smiled wantonly.

"Yes, I think we should tell Dumbledore about this. If she is from Beauxbatons she should definitely know better than to use magic in front of the muggle community. Though, I'm not quite sure she's been to a school at all. Either way it's too dangerous to leave uninvestigated. I'll owl him about it tonight and we'll see his take on the issue."

Arthur,

Professor Mcgonagall is on her way to Paris as I write this. She, as my right hand, will no doubt investigate this mysterious girl and decide what needs to be done. This is quite strange… Strange indeed.

Signed,

Albus Dumbledore

Arthur handed over the parchment to his wife and reclined in his chair deep in thought. His hand scratched thoughfully at his chin.

"Let us not overreact here Arthur. I think Albus is more worried about Beauxbatons overlooking her than anything else; oh, what a foul up!"

"Yeah, she was defending herself. What if she simply doesn't know?" Ron interrupted.

"All of that considered she's too old to be simply thrown into a school. As you said, she's around your age, right, son?" Arthur looked at him questioningly.

"I think so. But they can't just leave her untrained!" Ron was worried and his parents worried about him. He was far too fascinated by this girl he'd just met.

"Ron, my dear son, there are many wizard families who prefer not to send their children to wizarding schools. That could be a simple solution for this case." His mother smiled at him. She loved her son but he tended to be very excitable at times and easily fascinated.

Arthur stepped out the revolving door of their hotel taking in a deep breath. It was barely morning. The sun hadn't quite risen yet and the immediate sky was dark blue with hints of purple on the horizon. The crescent moon dangled above the purple as if it were sleeping and pointing towards the heavens to avoid the oncoming sunlight. Harry and Ron appeared behind Arthur sleepy-eyed and yawning.

"Dumbledore wants you two to accompany Professor Mcgonagall to the flower shop where you came in contact with the girl. My own judgment says that it's a bit dangerous but Mcgonagall is a powerful witch. I've agreed to let you go with her but tread carefully.

It was midday, the sun hung high and the smell of fresh baked breads filled the air. Professor Mcgonagall brushed her dress suit lightly before approaching the flower shop with Ron and Harry not far behind. She made her way down the alley and stopped at a shabby black door. The professor sent them a questioning look.

"Yes, that's it," said Harry.

The professor gave the door a slight knock. She glanced at her surroundings and lifted her nose in the air at the foul smell of rotting trash. Every once in a while a rat crossed the small space.

Ron shuddered as he thought of Scabbers; or as he now knew him: Peter Pettigrew. He could have done with never seeing another rat in his life.

Mcgonagall was a bit irritated. She shooed yet another rat away with the toe of her shoe and resumed knocking. Still there was no answer. Then there was the sound of a latch unlocking and the door opened to reveal a short frail old woman. Her hair was white with a few streaks of gray which she wore in a long ponytail. She wore very casual clothing and an apron covered in colorful streaks. You could tell by one look that she used to be quite a beauty though the years had caused that to fade away. Her lips pursed into wrinkles at the sight of them. They parted and she began speaking in French.

"We shall have your money next week!" She had a very strong and assertive voice for a woman so frail. Her brows furrowed. "Next week!"

Ron and Harry exchanged glances. Neither one knew what in the world the woman was saying but Mcgonagall did. The woman began to shut the door but the professor stopped it with a surprisingly forceful block of her hand.

The old woman grimaced and Mcgonagall replied in french. "Excuse me, do you speak English?" She stood there stern and immobile. It was classic Mcgonagall.

"Yes." She thought hard for a moment. "'Cesca a'ready tell 'ou. We pay next week."

"Madame, I do not know who this 'Cesca is and we do not come for a claim. We would like to speak to you about a young girl," replied Mcgonagall.

The old woman looked downward for a moment lost in thought. After a few seconds she stepped back to let them enter. Mcgonagall entered first in her protective manner then was followed by Harry and Ron.

The room they entered was small; a living room. It was quaint, warm, and not untidy. From the looks of it on the outside it seemed a dump but the interior proved to be quite the opposite. A small lamp was lit beside a maroon reclining chair in which an old man slept. The air was stuffy and the smell of sandalwood insence was strong. The carpet was dark brown and the furniture, though not exactly high class wasn't in bad condition. There were strewn bouquets of the most beautiful native flowers, purples, reds, yellows.

The woman led them into the kitchen area and motioned for the three to sit down at the mahogany dinner table which, unlike the other furniture, was ragged and missing chunks of wood from the sides. The walls were pastel yellow and the tiles on the floor were mis-matched black, white, and grey. Still, its rustic look gave it a homey feel. Ron and Harry complied and took a seat but Mcgonagall did not.

"English?" asked woman nodded with a slight smile. Ron sighed in relief, he was sick of listening to French, it was giving him a headache.

"'At is so important 'ou must come 'ithout notice and speak 'ith me?"

At this Mcgonagall sat down finally.

"First, let me thank you for taking the time to talk to us so urgently. I know it is a bit disconcerting when someone you do not know shows up at your doorstep." Mcgonagall straightened herself in the chair. "This being said, I have been informed of a highly fantastic event concerning a young girl." Mcgonagall glanced at Harry and Ron who were now in whispered conversation. They felt her stare and quit their conversation quickly.

"Oh! Where are my manners?" She stretched out her gloved hand. "I am Minerva Mcgonagall and these boys are Ron Weasley," Ron nodded. "and Harry Potter." Harry nodded. "They are on vacation here in Paris and happened to pass your flower shop just the other day. Apparently there was a young girl entangled in an argument."

The old woman finally sat down in one of the feeble chairs. She stared at the floor. "'Cesca, 'ou've come to take my 'Cesca!"

"'Cesca? No ma'am. I do no know who this 'Cesca is. It is the events that followed the argument with a young girl that have drawn our interest. Apparently the boys saw this girl throw a man more than thirty feet without so much as lifting a finger." Mcgonagall stared at the woman expectantly.

"It was amazing!" Ron interrupted and received another glance from the professor. "Sorry." He lowered his eyes.

"'Cesca, she is.. 'ow you say? My granzauter, yes. Francesca Sartre. She is a 'oung girl," the lady replied.

Mcogonagall nodded in understanding.

"My reason for coming here today is to ensure that this girl… Francesca is already registered with a proper school. If she is not then I would suggest you consider placing her in one." Mcgonagall forced a smile. The old woman shifted in her seat with a perplexed expression.

"School? But she attends one of zee best schools in Paris! All due 'espect miss, we know she 'as a gift. Some people 'ave even called her zee Devil!" Harry was suddenly reminded of the man who'd called the girl "Diable" but shook it out of his mind. "But she is good girl. And 'as 'igh grades! She cannot 'elp how she was born." The lady became hysterical suddenly. "'Cesca… all we 'ave since 'er parents died please do not take 'er away!" She reached for Mcgonagall's arm.

"Nonsense!" Mcgonagall removed her hand gently. "We are not here to take her away. My question is, has she ever been contacted before now to attend a magic school?" Mcgonagall was becoming very irritated and the conversation was exhausting her. She hadn't expected it to be this lengthy and had hoped that the woman would know English fluently. This wasn't what she had in mind when she came to Paris. Her thought was that it had been some out of control teenage witch flaunting herself among muggles.

"Contacted? Zis is ridiculous! Magic school? Are 'ou out of 'our mind?"

"Far from!" Mcgonagall laughed to herself and shifted to become more comfortable. "Now I'm going to let you in on a few secrets. They may be just as fantastic to you as the scene earlier was for the boys." She nodded at the boys and proceeded to tell the woman about Hogwarts and the wizarding world. The woman's amazement was obvious to say the least. Her eyes were wide and disbelieving and her mouth gaped.

Mcgonagall finished her story and told the lady they would be in touch about her granddaughter's eligibility at such a late age if she were interested.

Harry's scar began to sting. His hand jumped to his forehead to cope with the pain as it became more intense. Soon he had collapsed to the floor cradling his head in his hands. Ron had jumped out of his chair and dropped to the floor beside him. Mcgonagall moved from her seat and knelt beside him as she pulled his head up gently and looked him in the eyes.

"Is it him?" she asked.

Harry nodded painfully and Mcgonagall whipped around as a figure burst happily into the kitchen with a bag of groceries in each arm. She had been prepared to protect her students with her wand out and ready to strike. Wait, it was a girl! A beautiful red-headed heart faced green-eyed young girl. It wasn't Voldemort but a child, a mere teenager. Mcgonagall dropped the wand to her side.

The shopping bags that Francesca had been carrying fell sharply to the floor followed by the sound of glass breaking and random items rolling across the the mis-matched tile. She clenched her arms around her stomach and collapsed. Her body writhed in agony, clenching into a fetal position. Mcgonagall didn't miss a beat. She turned to the grandmother who was now as white as a sheet and motionless at the dinner table. She sped to the woman and primly brought herself to eye level.

"You won't fully understand this now but I must take her to the school. She needs medical attention that only the wizard world can give." She searched the frozen eyes of the old woman. "Are you listening to me?" She shook her softly until her fixed gaze moved from Francesca to the professor. "I assure you she will be safe." The grandmother nodded dazedly and though Mcgonagall knew the old woman was agreeing only out of shock gathered the three teenagers and disapparated.