Prologue

To: Chadwick Boot V

of Ilvermorny, MA

Dear Prof. Boot,

I am writing to answer your inquiry as to how I came to be enrolled at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry given my... limitations which dad wrote to you regarding a few years back.

I suppose it all started on my second birthday, when my brother, Terry, was ten and Izzy wasn't even a thought.

My parents had brought home a children's broom for me following a trip to Diagon Alley with my brother to buy his Hogwarts things, his letter having come some weeks before, though its receipt had never been in doubt. I was overjoyed as I galloped around the house with the broom straddled between my legs. My father seemed less overjoyed. He kept trying to get me to allow the broom to fly me around, but it just wouldn't. All it did was fall to the ground. I thought this was a fun game, I didn't understand why mum and dad weren't laughing. Mum said I was too young, that it would come, and dad decided to agree. I think Terry knew, but he didn't want to say anything.

When I was six and Izzy was three (her name is Isolde in homage to the founder of Ilvermorny, but we all called her Izzy), I still had not done so much as moved a leaf. Meanwhile, Izzy was bouncing about the house like a rubber ball.

We played Quidditch on a child-sized pitch, Izzy zooming along on the broom my parents had bought for me and I running along behind. Sometimes, during holidays, Terry would play too. He tried to do his best by me. He'd let me play chaser, but, inevitably, I couldn't keep up with him or Izzy, who barely understood the game but could still score three points before I had one. He let me play beater a few times, hitting bludgers from the ground at them. But mostly I played keeper.

I loved it. I loved jumping from hoop to hoop, blocking the quaffle. Terry swore I was part monkey, kept checking me for a tail. Dad noticed it as well, he enrolled me in a muggle gymnastics school. Which, you'd think on top of wizarding primary school would have been difficult given how difficult the wizarding primaries are, but I didn't mind.

Even then I began studying magic. I would take Terry's books from the previous year and read them at night until mum had to bewitch the candles so I could not light them after a certain hour. When he found out, Terry said I was a born Ravenclaw, just like him.

For a year I practiced. I loved the feeling of flying through the air, of catching myself and flying again, of spinning and turning and flipping like Terry could do but without the need of a broom. Then a new girl joined our class, a really pretty girl from Latvia named Sophie, she did the most amazing floor routine I ever saw. She was leaping, soaring, landing as briefly as a butterfly before alighting once more. It was as though she was magic. She laughed when I asked if she was a witch, she told me it was only ballet. Of course, I begged my parents to let me learn ballet as well.

My parents tried to pretend. Terry gave them hope, saying a boy in his year, Neville, hadn't shown any magical abilities until he was about my age. But even then, Terry knew, he just didn't want them to give up on me. That year, in his letters, Terry told me the most fantastic tales of Dumbledore's Army and how they had duped that toady witch Dolores Umbrage. I fell asleep dreaming of patronuses and secret rooms.

In his last letter he told me about how the famous Harry Potter had broken into the Department of Mysteries and fought off a whole crew of death eaters. He was mad for the idea of the Department of Mysteries and he swore one day he would work there. Most nights I found the light under his door still on long after we were both supposed to be asleep.

Soon, I was not only leading my classes but Terry could not get a quaffle by me. Finally, during the holiday, it was time to put my plan into motion. On a particularly easy goal attempt I caught the quaffle, but instead of merely throwing it out I slid down the post and ran with it, much to the amazement of Terry and Izzy. But that only lasted a moment before Terry decided on a new game. "Get him!" he shouted. But, even though I was slow compared to his broom he couldn't touch me, try as he might. I ducked and dodged and rolled and then I was at the goal post. I threw it and, with no keeper present to stop it, the quaffle went in. Terry got quite a laugh out of the whole display, but it was the first time I had ever scored a goal on my brother.

It was the last time I saw Terry laugh for a long time.

I was nine now, and my parents took me to St. Mungo's to hear from a doctor what they already knew. My mother cried. There would be no letter from Hogwarts next year.

When Terry came home for the holiday that year he was covered in cuts and bruises. He claimed it had been broomstick accident. But he had scars that were much older. He wouldn't tell me anything. Mum and dad tried to convince him not to return, but he was of age and could do as he pleased, and he was going back.

It was nearing Summer when we got the message in the middle of the night that Voldemort had attacked Hogwarts. They didn't say who the students were who fought, but I knew Terry would be among them. Mum and dad grabbed their wands and, without even changing from their night clothes they told me to look after Izzy until they returned. But how could I allow them to leave me behind? I could help! I knew I could. They made to disapperate but I jumped on dad's back before they vanished. I found myself beside an unfamiliar forest near a burned out squat hut. Beyond it wide grounds stretched before us and a great castle I knew to be Hogwarts from my studies.

My parents were furious. They told me to stay in the hut and out of the way, that they would come for me when the fighting was over. I tried to plead my case but they wouldn't listen. They locked me in and put a barrel in front of the door. I cried as I watched them join the crowd of families popping up around the grounds, all heading toward the castle. They were tears of rage, and insult, and terrible fear. Not fear for myself, but fear that I might never see my parents and brother again.

I saw a thousand different scenarios where they were in mortal peril and only I could save them, but here I was in this burned out old hut. I kicked a piece of charcoal across the ruin when suddenly I heard a sound from the forest. It was movement, light, barely audible. Then the howl like that of a wolf and a man combined pierced the night air, chilling me to the bones.

I had heard of werewolves before, Terry told me one of their Defense against the Dark Arts teachers was a werewolf and that he had still liked him (though mum and dad were scandalized that Dumbledore had shown such a lapse in judgement). But something told me these werewolves were not so pleasant company. I could hear them from where I stood, talking in low growling voices. In the woods I saw their shadows, lean and lanky, bent almost double. Eyes caught the light, flashing green.

"I smell someone," a tall, thin one with long hair said.

"I smell lots of people," another growled.

"No... this is someone close. Someone small... tender..." His head went up, his eyes flashed and met mine. "There!"

I jumped through the window and ran as I had never run before, without thinking, I was flying. Flying across the grounds. I could hear the sound of the werewolves behind me, feel their hot breath on my heels. Even with a head start they were faster. There was one behind me, two coming up on the sides, running like beasts with their hands serving as forepaws. I couldn't outrun them.

I jumped.

I flipped backwards, landing squarely on the back of the one behind me. I pulled my arm tight around his throat, causing him to roll over, bowling his mates who followed close behind over. I was up before they even understood they had fallen.

I was running again, now I was at the castle where giants battled over the entrance. I dodged the blow of a club weaving between massive feet into the entrance to the castle. I heard the yelp of a werewolf and turned just in time to see him thrown in the air by the careless blow of a club. I desperately wanted to find Terry but the howls from behind told me not all of the werewolves had given up the chase.

I ran up a staircase and was startled to feel it move beneath me. Terry had told me of the moving stairs but I was still completely unprepared for it. In fact, all the stairs were moving in almost continuous motion. Wizards and witches dueled over the everchanging landscape above my head. The long haired werewolf came through the door, two brutish men at his side. He sniffed the air a moment and turned with a smile.

"There he is!"

I broke from my trance, running up the staircase which was just starting to move again. My foot hit the floor just as the corner shifted away, but the werewolves were close behind, stuck on the shifting stair that had decided to connect on the other side of the floor. I ran to the next stairway, narrowly dodging a green flash of light. I leapt onto the moving staircase and then onto another that crossed close by where a wizard dueled a man in death eater's robes, his silver mask askance. I had not accounted for the movement on my landing and rolled down the staircase and into the death eater who, in his surprise, lost his balance and fell, dropping his wand. I picked it up, pocketing it.

"Thanks!" the wizard said, jumping off onto the next floor as the stair passed by. I watched for a moment when suddenly I realized the long haired werewolf was waiting along the corridor I was about to pass. I jumped from the stair onto the floor just below. My arms spun in a circle as I caught my balance on the ledge. Glancing back I saw the long haired werewolf jump onto the stair (his companion missing the jump entirely) running with all his might to get to the corridor before it moved on, but he was too late. I heard him curse loudly.

I ran down the hall, threading through green and red blasts. Suddenly, it seemed the floor gave out on me, I was falling. I reached out and caught something hard and metal. It was a chandelier! I was now dangling precariously above a first floor hallway. Pulling myself up, I watched as witches and wizards dueled below. I saw a witch, tall and thin, with a severe face, dueling a wizard. They were well matched but she seemed to be getting the better of him.

Without warning, a death eater approached from behind to tilt the odds to their favor. But she was too caught up in her battle to notice. I looked for a weapon I might use, knowing full well the wand in my pocket was as useless as a branch in my hands. But I did see the candles. I threw the flaming wax bombs onto the wizard. I had never realized robes were so flammable, or perhaps it was just that man. He screamed, fleeing as fast as he could. This gave the witch the opportunity she needed. She stunned her dueling partner. She looked up, and seeing me in the chandelier, she tipped hat, before turning into a cat and bounding off to the Great Hall.

There was a creaking sound above me. I looked up just in time to see the heavy bolts that held the chandelier in place stretch and twist as the fixture groaned its way from the ceiling. A large troll looked up just in time to watch it drop onto his head. Terry was not joking about the stupidity of trolls. It had not even tried to move. I leapt just before impact, rolling across the floor into a crouch.

Then everything froze. Well, not exactly froze, for everyone could still move, they just didn't. They hurried to the Great Hall. I could hear voices. Harry Potter had appeared. Harry Potter was dueling Lord Voldemort. I wanted to see but couldn't through the crush of the crowd. I wanted to hear but the din muffled the voices.

A force pulled my leg, toppling me over. I was dragged back from the hall. "There you are my little pudding," the long haired werewolf sneered as he pulled me along into a corridor. I kicked at the claw like nails that grasped my calf, flopping about like a fish to no avail. I was caught. I could see the glint of his sharp teeth.

"Stupefy!" A red beam of light hit the werewolf square in the chest.

"Terry!" I cried, disengaging myself from the limp hand. Terry stood before me, a large wound in his forehead bleeding, his wand pointed at the stupefied werewolf. I ran into my brother's arms.

"Matthew! What in the world are you doing here? You could have been killed."

"I just... I wanted to help."

Terry looked at me like he wanted to scold me, but instead his eyes got sparkly and he pulled me in tighter. "You'll never be a Ravenclaw thinking like that," he murmured into my shoulder.

The battle ended a short time later. Terry and I watched as the death eaters fled the Hogwarts grounds and those that did not were rounded up by Aurors or parents, even some were held captive by students. "So he's really dead?" I asked.

"I suppose so."

"It's strange, isn't it? It feels strange. I mean I'm glad. I am! But it just feels odd. Oh! I grabbed this wand." I held up the thing for Terry to see. "Would you like it?"

"Where'd you get that from?"

"Some death eater I accidentally knocked off the stairs."

"Nah, it'll never work for me. It's your wand I suppose. Seems fitting, if you ask me."

"How so?"

"After all the dark purposes it's served for pureblood causes, it's won by a squib."

I almost laughed.

We went in search of mum and dad and found them, a bit worse for the wear, speaking with the severe looking cat lady from before. "Mum! Dad!" we shouted, running up and hugging them.

"Ah, Terry, it is good to see you are all right."

"Thank you, Prof. McGonagall," Terry said. "Or is it Headmistress now?"

Professor McGonagall! I could barely contain myself.

"Headmistress, I think, for the time being. And who is this young fellow?" She smiled at me.

"This is my brother, Matthew Boot."

"Matthew. You look a little young to be a Hogwarts student."

"He's not a student, he's only ten," Mum said.

"What a brave lad. I hope to see you next year in my house." She smiled and walked off.

None of us bothered to correct her. The truth would have out soon enough; I suppose they thought. But in that moment, I realized I never wanted anything more. I had to find a way to get into Hogwarts somehow. I was a Boot, afterall, I could get this figured.

I threw myself into my studies even as my parents began the process of enrolling me into a muggle school. Terry was accepted into the Department of Mysteries. Given that The Ministry of Magic had lost a fair number of its employees in the last year most of the students who desired a position found the doors wide open to them, particularly those who had fought in what was now commonly called The Battle of Hogwarts.

Many of Voldemort's followers were still at large and Aurors were in great demand. Both Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, household names by now, joined the aurors. I wanted to join them and fight the last of the death eaters as well.

I wrote to Terry about my dream. That there must be some way for a squib to get into Hogwarts. He tried to dissuade me and, finding that I would not be discouraged, he finally gave me the name of a girl he had known in school, Hermione Granger, who he said had done a lot of work fighting to get equal rights for House Elves. He said he doubted there was anything she could do, but if anyone might even listen to my cause, it would be her.

By now the first year was almost over. I found school boring and dreamed of nothing more than defeating death eaters. Izzy grew tired of playing death eaters and wizards with me. She was getting too old for pretend now. The only freedom I found was when I was flying between quidditch goals. We had increased the height so they were almost regulation sized. I had been inspired by a Chinese gymnast in the circus and learned how to leap from pole to pole, shimmying up and sliding down as fast as a breath.

I waited to write Ms. Granger. I can't say why. I guess it was her fame that scared me. Maybe I was just afraid she would say "No" and that I was being silly and I should give up. And then it would all be in black and white and I wasn't ready to face that yet. But finally, after months of putting it off, it turned out Terry had done it for me. He handed me the letter.

Dear Terry,
I don't know that there's anything to be done, but I'll look into it.

Hermione

I read the letter over and over again until it was practically falling apart in my hands.

Another letter came a month later.

Dear Terry,
Well, I've spoken with the Minister of Magic and Headmistress McGonagall. The minister is skeptical but Prof. McGonagall thinks there might be a way. I'll tell you more as soon as I hear.

Hermione

And then a third almost a month later. This would be the answer, I knew. I couldn't open it. Fortunately, it was not mine to open. Terry grabbed it from me and opened it, mumbling as he read,

"Dear Terry,
It is with regret I inform you that the Minister of Magic does not support sending a non-magical person to Hogwarts under any conditions. However,"

Terry's voice rose steadily as he continued. "However, he has agreed to defer to Prof. McGonagall on this matter. She has decided if Matthew can show extraordinary talent in areas other than performative magic he can join Hogwarts as a student! Matthew!" Terry shouted, hugging me. "All he has to do is achieve an Outstanding the written portion of the OWLS in seven subjects..." his voice slowed again. "Seven subjects." He shook his head. "Including History of Magic and Potions."

"Don't worry, Terry, I'm a Boot. We're practically the heads of Ravenclaw."

"Seven is a lot though, you've never even made a potion. And you'll have to sit for the OWLS next year."

"You can teach me. Please Terry, I can't give up now! We have to try!"

Terry thought for a minute, "Fine. I'll teach you everything I know."

And so we worked for hours every day after he came home. I spent whole weeks with my nose pressed into his old textbooks. When I had them almost memorized he brought books from the library. He drilled every potion into my head until I could almost make them with my eyes closed.

Finally, the day came. Terry took me to London with him where we came to the Ministry of Magic. A rather unremarkable building, I thought. Ms. Granger, soon Mrs. Weasley, met me just inside. "Good luck, Matthew," she said as she closed the door in the little white room, bare except for my own desk and the desk of the examiner who sat across from me.

I took OWLS for every subject possible that day. I couldn't tell you how I managed it.

A month later, an owl from the ministry arrived. In that moment I was certain I had failed them all, that I would be relegated to the life of a muggle forever. That the only way I might get into Hogwarts was as the caretaker. Terry and I opened the letter. Nine Outstandings; including History of Magic and Potions. I was going to Hogwarts.

I hope that answers your questions. If you have any more you can send them to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where I will be staying as of tomorrow. Sorry for the late reply, as you can guess, I've been a bit busy.

Your loving relation from across the pond,

Matthew Boot