Prologue: Wingardium Leviosa
The Hufflepuff prefect, Gregory Munslow, stood outside the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, waiting to meet the muggle boy who was about to become his first pupil. Gregory was tired, having just finished his last Owl exam the day before. But excitement at the impending meeting conquered his fatigue.
Just sixteen years old, and hired as a tutor by Hogwarts! Gregory couldn't believe his good fortune. Such a glorious summer holiday it would be, working for the school he loved. And his family really needed the money.
The student coming to meet Gregory wasn't really a muggle, of course. The Headmaster, Professor Dippet, had made that clear. The boy had received a Hogwarts letter on his eleventh birthday, same as Gregory, but his parents had not permitted him to matriculate. They had, however, agreed to private lessons when the child turned thirteen, provided their son had continued to excel in his muggle education.
It was all new to Gregory. He reckoned there must be wizard children who, instead of attending Hogwarts, simply grew up being taught magic by their parents. But the boy he was about to meet was muggle-born. The whole affair had a Hufflepuff feel to it, which pleased Gregory immensely. Hufflepuff trained everybody, regardless of personality or ability. This child was unable to go to Hogwarts? Then Hogwarts would go to this child.
Gregory knew why he had been offered the position. He spent most of his free time tutoring other students, especially the younger ones. Not because he had to, or because he was being paid, but simply because he loved teaching. He had heard the complement whispered by many of his peers, that Gregory Munslow was their favorite professor. During the job interview, Headmaster Dippet had even mentioned this rumor, a moment in the conversation that had embarrassed Gregory greatly. Now here he was, possibly the youngest instructor in the history of Hogwarts.
The assignment was to teach two subjects, Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. If all went well, Potions and Transfiguration were to be added the following year. This was straightforward enough. What continued to amaze Gregory were all rules he and his apprentice were going to be allowed to break.
Gregory waited before the Leaky Cauldron because his pupil needed a wand. But the lessons were to take place at the boy's home. To make this possible, Gregory had been permitted to learn Apparition a year early, and had already been granted a license. Even more remarkably, all restrictions on the underage use of magic had been lifted from Gregory, so long as he remained in the employ of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. These restrictions had been similarly eased on his new pupil. The child would be allowed to practice magic in his house, provided no muggles besides his parents observed him.
The Hufflepuff prefect understood he was now free to do the same, and imagined getting drafted by his mother into the rapid performance of a whole host of mundane chores. His little sister was showing signs she might one day receive a letter of her own, but Gregory's parents were muggles. Parent, he should say. His father had passed from cancer back in the fall. The resultant financial hardship had put his education at considerable risk, and he suspected this was another reason the tutoring position had presented itself. Hogwarts was determined to retain its own. Gregory was determined not to disappoint the institution that had placed so much trust in him.
A family of three slowed to within a few hesitant steps of Gregory. The man and woman, both professionally dressed, shepherded a young man with brown hair and brown eyes. The boy approached Gregory with a shy smile, extended a hand, and introduced himself. "Hello," he said. "I'm Aaron Gow."
Gregory gave a firm handshake and returned a smile of his own. "Gregory Munslow. It is a pleasure to meet you."
"These are my parents," Aaron added.
"Very happy to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Gow," Gregory greeted, shaking each of their hands in turn.
"Thank you so much for agreeing to tutor Aaron," Mrs. Gow said. "We so look forward to having you to our home. We'll do everything we can to make you feel welcome."
Gregory felt himself relax a bit. The story of muggle parents who had refused to let their son attend Hogwarts had made him wonder if they might prove angry or argumentative. But both seemed quite pleased, even excited.
Mr. Gow chimed in. "Such an opportunity you're giving our son. Such an opportunity. So gracious of Hogwarts to make it possible."
"It is our pleasure, Mr. Gow. We are confident Aaron will enjoy his education. I will make every effort to reward your trust in Hogwarts, and in me." He gestured. "Shall we go inside?"
The parents hesitated. "You know, we can't actually see it."
Gregory winced. Of course they couldn't see it.
"It's really okay," Mr. Gow offered. "We thought Aaron might go ahead without us. We've already been inside."
"You have?" Gregory asked.
"Two years ago," Mr. Gow explained. "Professor Dumbledore gave the three of us a tour of Diagon Alley, tried to convince us to let Aaron enroll. We suggested this alternative, and he said he would look into the matter. Based upon his subsequent communications, we think he may have had much to do with making this arrangement a reality."
That didn't surprise Gregory. Professor Dumbledore had always struck him as the most open-minded instructor at Hogwarts, and also the kindest. He would have made an excellent Hufflepuff.
Aaron's parents said farewell to their son. "We'll be back in three hours to pick you up." Then they locked arms and headed down the street, beaming over their shoulders like the proudest parents in the world.
"Shall we?" Gregory offered. The boy nodded, and Gregory led him through the door of the Leaky Cauldron.
They did not linger in the pub, instead continuing on immediately through the back entrance.
"I didn't know you had already been here," Gregory commented. "How did you enter?"
"We came through a fireplace," Aaron answered.
"Floo powder?"
"Yes, that's what they called it. Popped right out into a shop. Best day in the world."
Gregory hadn't known muggles could visit Diagon Alley. Certainly he had never seen any there.
"What did you do?"
"Walked around mostly," Aaron replied. "We exchanged money at the bank. That was something else, seeing goblins. I was able to buy a few books."
"They let you buy books?"
Aaron nodded. "I got seven before my money ran out. Standard Book of Spells, grades 1, 2, and 3. History of Magic. History of Hogwarts. Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection. And Essential Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Gregory was impressed. "Have you read any of them?"
"My father and I have read all of them. Many times."
This confused Gregory. His parents had never read any of his textbooks. But now that he thought about it, he had never been told they couldn't read them. Best to stay on task, though, and consider such things later. The prefect walked up to the brick wall that granted access to Diagon Alley, tapped it with his wand, and stood back as the entrance appeared.
Gregory was prepared to wander for a bit, on the assumption that his charge would want to pause and enter some of the stores. Aaron seemed determined to turn his money into Galleons, however, so they headed for the bank.
"My mom is an English teacher," Gregory said as they hurried past the storefronts. "How about yours?"
"My mom's a teacher, too," Aaron replied. "Math professor at Strathclyde. Dad's an aeronautical engineer." He looked at Gregory, seemed to realize the older boy didn't know what this meant. "He designs airplanes," he clarified.
"They sound smart."
"They are. They considered letting me go to Hogwarts until they discovered there's no math. Do you really not have math classes?"
It seemed a strange question to Gregory. Certainly it was one no one had ever asked him. He tried to remember back to the muggle school he had attended until turning eleven. Math class every day. If he recalled correctly, he hadn't really cared for it. His father had been a newspaper editor. Their home had been about plays and poetry and the daily edition.
"No math classes," Gregory confirmed.
"Do you know Algebra?" Aaron asked.
"I'm afraid I don't know what that is."
"Geometry?"
Gregory shook his head. He studied Aaron's reaction, wondering if his pupil might disapprove magical education's omission of the subject dearest to his parents' hearts. But Aaron did not seem critical. The absence of math was simply a fact to note. The boy walked on.
"It is a rare thing," Gregory commented. "A student being tutored in magic, I mean. To tell you the truth, I've never heard of it being done before."
"My parents argued that I could learn both. They said magic could be a hobby, if I liked. Or more, eventually, if I took to it. But they're totally serious about university. Dad read at Oxford."
Gregory had heard of Oxford, though he didn't know much about it.
"I'm sure you realize this," Gregory said gently, "but you're going to be quite a bit behind other students your age."
"I know. But that's okay. You graduate Hogwarts at age eighteen, correct? How long will it take until I've learned as much?"
"Perhaps when you're twenty-five," Gregory blurted, feeling immediately embarrassed. He had not wanted to discourage the boy with the impossibility of the task before him.
"That's excellent," Aaron replied, undeterred. "And then what sort of college do you do afterwards?"
"What do you mean?"
"What school do you go to after Hogwarts?"
"There isn't any more school after Hogwarts."
Aaron took this statement stoically, and turned to musing. The two of them entered Gringotts and dealt with money matters. Gregory noted that the boy had enough Galleons to purchase a wand, but probably not much else. His pupil already had the necessary books, though. No robes would be needed. No potion supplies. Aaron wouldn't have an owl, but given they both came from muggle families, Gregory supposed his student could just call him if he had a question. A wand, a few books, and a teacher. For right now, the boy needed nothing more. They left the bank and headed for Ollivanders.
"I've been thinking for weeks about your question," Gregory confessed. "About how long it would take to catch up. You're starting Grade 1 spells at thirteen instead of eleven. That might mean you can pick them up faster than I did when I was a first-year. You'll be having one-on-one instruction, which always helps. And you can practice at home." He uttered this last sentence with renewed awe, for it suddenly occurred to him that Aaron would be able to practice magic all twelve months of the year. That could be huge.
"You won't have the benefit of learning from other students," Gregory noted, frowning. "That's a disadvantage, unfortunately. In practice a lot of the learning takes place student-to-student." And you'll miss the amazing, unbelievable, life-changing experience of actually attending Hogwarts! But the Hufflepuff prefect was much too polite to say this out loud.
Aaron spoke up. "I've been told I might be allowed to attend classes for a week or two each year, during breaks. If you recommend me, that is."
Gregory was mystified. "But that would place you in classes with students much younger than yourself." The awkwardness of a fifteen-year-old boy taking potions with a bunch of first-years!
"That's okay," Aaron replied. "I take math with older students. Catch the shuttle to their school every day. Don't see why it would be a problem doing it the other way."
Gregory imagined Aaron showing up at Hogwarts in the middle of term and getting introduced to the student body during supper. Would they put the sorting hat on him? They would have to sort him. How else could he find a place to sleep? But it was more than that. Life at Hogwarts was built around the house system. You couldn't be a student there and not be in a house.
Which brought up the question that had already been stirring in the back of Gregory's mind: If Aaron had entered Hogwarts two years ago, which house would he have ended up in? The boy seemed studious and intelligent, and his parents had apparently received very advanced educations in the muggle world. So that could mean Ravenclaw.
But what interested Gregory most was Aaron's attitude. Most students in the boy's position would have been bitter and resentful at not being allowed to attend Hogwarts. There seemed to be no anger or reserve in Aaron, however. None. If anything, the young man even agreed with his parents' decision, incredible as that was. It made no sense, though, going to muggle school while also learning magic. What was the point in doing both?
Gregory stopped just short of the wand shop. "How do you feel about all this?" he finally asked. "It seems like two whole school's worth of homework."
Aaron's eyes shined. "I like school," he answered, smiling so genuinely, so thankfully, that Gregory knew it without a doubt. Aaron would have been sorted into Hufflepuff.
Obtaining a wand took half an hour. When they emerged from Ollivanders, there was still plenty of time to go exploring, which Gregory assumed Aaron would now want to do. Instead the boy turned to him and asked, "Will you please teach me a spell?"
Gregory almost said students were not allowed to practice magic away from Hogwarts. But then he remembered that the Hufflepuff prefect was now a Hogwarts instructor, and that Aaron could therefore perform magic right here on the street of Diagon Alley, provided he did so under his teacher's supervision.
A nearby wall produced a scrap of parchment from an old poster. Gregory placed it on the ground, drew his wand, and pointed. "Wingardium Leviosa!" The parchment popped up to eye-height. Gregory sent it flying around both their heads, then caused it to land gently where it had started.
"Pull your wand," Gregory instructed, taking position beside his student. "This is the hand motion. It has to be done very precisely. And you have to say the words just so. Go ahead and practice."
Aaron was a quick study. He caused the piece of parchment to hover on his third attempt. The boy laughed with delight, finally looking and acting like a true first-year student. "I did it!" he shouted. And he performed the spell over and over again, chanting Wingardium Leviosa with unabashed happiness until Gregory could not help but join the child in laughter. The prefect had forgotten the feeling of one's very first spell, properly performed. Wonder. The boy felt wonder – and Gregory felt it through him. This was the joy of teaching.
Eventually Aaron sat with his back to a shop wall, and took to making small stones levitate. Gregory was impressed. Perhaps starting at age thirteen really did help. Then Aaron paused.
"Do you really think there's such a thing as magic?" he asked.
"I don't understand," Gregory said.
"I mean magic, real magic. Do you think it's real?"
Gregory was at a loss. "You're doing real magic right now, Aaron."
Aaron stared at the pebble hovering before him. He made it dance in midair with tiny flicks of his wand. "My dad and I have talked a lot," he explained. "He's decided that magic means getting something for nothing. I've increased the potential energy of this pebble. If no energy was used to do so, then I've gotten something for nothing."
Gregory shook his head. He had no idea what the boy was talking about.
"There's always a cost," Aaron clarified. "That's what my dad says. Every action, every act. When work is performed, there is always a cost. He's teaching me the formulae, pretty advanced stuff. I'm in Algebra 2, so I can make sense of some of it. Energy's always lost. No process is a hundred percent efficient. There's always a cost. But magic. Magic means no cost, right?"
Aaron let the pebble fall. He sat silently, thinking thoughts that Gregory did not, could not, understand.
Eventually Aaron stirred and asked, "Is there such a thing as magic?" Then he smiled cheerfully, pointed his wand at the pebble, and uttered the one spell he knew: "Wingardium Leviosa."