Untitled
Harry Potter fan fiction
Genre: Humor, Adventure, Romance
Rating: M for language and gore
Summary: There's such a thing as too much convenience. Gaddy can be the judge of that.
Notes: There are OCs, and since they're human, they will be judgemental, though what they think of other characters is in no way a testament to what I think of the cannon. At least, not completely.
Prologue
"I'm just not sure it's the best course of action, Professor."
Even as a Professor, it was a shame to be indoors on such a fine summer day. Unfortunately, it was also the summer of 1994, and the news Professor McGonagall had just received during this particular season had no other option save her current pacing of the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts. As per usual, Professor Dumbledore's lax position regarding the whole mess only furthered her worry.
"What exactly do you feel uneasy about, Minerva?" Dumbledore stood behind his desk, turning to the side to rub at his dear Fawkes's belly.
McGonagall watched pointedly as Fawkes crooned in content. "You say you suspect upcoming Death Eater activity, possibly involving You-Know-Who. Don't take this in disrespect, but Albus, I already find that hard to believe."
"No disrespect taken." A quirk of his lips made McGonagall huff.
"And then this young witch appears, one who's been in America all her life but has somehow been recorded in Britain's native citizen files, with the possibility of having such an extraordinary power. It's all so…out of the ordinary. And outrageously convenient."
"As are the mysteries of life."
"But-" A familiar rumbling of stone-on-stone cut McGonagall off. She rolled her eyes to the office's high ceiling as heavy footsteps led to the office's oak door being thrown open by a largely ecstatic Game Keeper.
"She's sent her reply, Professor!" Rubeus Hagrid spoke rapidly, trying hard to regain his lost breath in between words. "The Beauxbatons Headmistress-replied to your request sir, and-says that she would love-to have her school participate-in the Tournament-again!"
Dumbledore held up a hand, chuckling. "Slow down, Hagrid, take a breath. This is good news, or else we wouldn't have a Triwizard Tournament."
Nodding, Hagrid turned away and took a few moments to gulp at the air. When he turned back, catching McGonagall's quirked eyebrow, a bright blush spread under his beard.
"Sorry about that. I, uh, ran straight here soon as I got the letter…"
Dumbledore nodded, ignoring McGonagall's eye roll. "And we do appreciate your enthusiasm, Hagrid."
"Thank you, sir."
"That reminds me." McGonagall cut in, "How is this girl, already years behind in magical studies, supposed to cope with the bustle of the Triwizard Tournament?"
"Oh, is this about the American girl? I've never met an American before," Hagrid put out.
Dumbledore nodded at him before addressing McGonagall. "I actually hoped the attention on the Tournament would allow her more time to assimilate the culture, and just as well give all the students lighter course work in lieu of the Tasks."
McGonagall puffed up, "Oh no, Albus. You can rest assured that my classes will stay just as vigorous, if not more so now that rival schools are taking a judgmental eye to our castle."
"And I've got a treat coming up for Care of Magical Creatures, Professor. It'll be a great course this year." A distant twinkle came to Hagrid's eyes.
McGonagall crossed her arms, "Careful Hagrid, we don't want anyone getting overwhelmed and losing an arm."
"Oh, er, no, nothing'll happen," He replied quickly. "The little tykes'll enjoy 'em...and I'm sure the students'll be gentle."
Tipping his head to his fellow administrators, Hagrid took his leave. McGonagall stared at the door for a moment, then shook her head and turned back to Dumbledore.
Before she made to say anything else, he cut in, "I understand your concern, Professor. But recent events have to be taken into account. Bertha Jorkin's disappearance-"
"Alleged."
"-Only proves that Voldemort is still out there, probably at the hands of Peter Pettigrew. And that they can cover large-distances in short amounts of time. If they were to somehow find out about this witch's capabilities, despite her being in America, I wouldn't underestimate their doing something to gain it. I would prefer her being educated in the situation before they tried to get to her. She'd be safer here than anywhere else, and I'd rather not risk having Voldemort cross international borders with his influence."
McGonagall sighed. "I trust your judgment, Albus. There's still an unsettling air of self-fulfilling prophecy about this but...I just hope, for everyone's sakes, that you're wrong about You-Know-Who."
A sad smile played on Dumbledore's face. "I've been hoping that for the past 56 years…"
McGonagall sighed and nodded again, before making her way to the door.
"Oh, and Minerva. I have one more thing to ask of you."
She paused, turning back to Dumbledore.
"Letters have already been sent out to the young lady, but it appears they haven't gotten through. I believe some of your authority as Deputy Headmistress would help me greatly, if you were willing."
McGonagall pursed her lips and walked back towards Dumbledore's desk.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
To Ms. Gadiel Atiyeh
Second Floor Guest Bedroom
108 Arragon Rd
London, E6
UK
Dear Ms. Atiyeh,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
"Uh…Gaddy?"
When she heard the tell-tale rush of thumping overhead, Hannah returned to the question at hand. The letter she read over her morning coffee wasn't all that strange; odd paper, no stamps, and a wizened looking wax seal, but for a joke, she'd seen more extravagant. The strangeness was in her teenage daughter getting anything in the mail at all, and so expressly posted to her.
"Sorry Mom, still packing." Gaddy glided into the kitchen, moving around the table and grabbing a cookie before settling at her mother's right side. Glancing at the letter in Hannah's hands, she asked, "What's up?"
"This…came in the mail for you, and I'm not sure what it's all about…"
Gaddy leaned in over her mother's shoulder, scanning the letter. She reached out a hand, "May I...?"
Silently Hannah gave her the letter, sipping her coffee and watching as Gaddy settled into a chair at the table. After a moment, a slight smirk played on Gaddy's face.
"Well," she let out a derisive chuckle, "British people surprise me more and more every day. This is the weirdest prank I've ever seen."
Hannah nodded, setting down her coffee mug. "There's a supplies list as well. And the express posting has me a little bogged. It's a bit too close for a prank, don't you think?"
Gaddy only grinned more. "'Bogged'. We come to Britain for a few weeks and you're already into the slang."
"Well," Hannah rolled her eyes, "At least our slang is more interesting than the tripe your American coast has come up with. If I hear someone say 'dudette' one more time, I'll kill the bugger."
Gaddy chuckled and stood up, letter in hand.
"You don't have to worry about this." Gaddy moved from the table back to the kitchen entrance. "We're leaving anyways; if this was some stalker, he'd be hard-pressed in getting much from me between now and tonight."
"Alright then. Just, be careful anyways. Jack the Ripper's more than a ghost story in London."
"Thanks Mom," Gaddy called, continuing through the doorway and down the hall. "The paranoia is refreshing."
Hannah called out, "Just doing my job," pulling another chuckle from Gaddy as she started up the stairs.
When she reached her half-packed bedroom and locked the door, Gaddy pulled out the prank-letter and read through everything twice over, her grip nearly ripping through the paper.
The unsettling part of the letter was not the postage, or even the idea of magic. It was the fact that the letter was identical in every way, except address, to the previous three letters she'd received before. The first had been sent to her by post in the mail with a normal address, but the other two had appeared out of nowhere in the most uncommon places, especially the letter before this, which had quite literally dropped in front of her during an afternoon run around the block.
All the letters had the legitimate wax seal. All the letters had the ridiculous supplies list. All the letters told her she was magical. And the scary part was, she wasn't sure whether or not it was true.
Gaddy patted the letters back together before ripping them up and tossing them in the large plastic bag in the middle of the room. She didn't have time to ponder on the improbability of having magical powers. She needed to make sure everything was together and organized for her trip back home.
A soft knock behind her made Gaddy turn and open the door. Standing in the hall with a very bemused look on his face was Cabel, her seven year old brother.
"Have you seen Captain America? I can't find him and he can't be left here by hisself." Cabel leaned his curly head towards Gaddy and whispered, "He doesn't really like Granddad."
Gaddy grinned, placing a hand on Cabel's head and nodding, "Granddad's a probably too strict for America's independence. And he's sitting on my night-stand; I found him in the closet where you thought it'd be funny to hide last night and fell asleep. Nearly gave us all a heart attack."
Cabel crossed his arms, "It's not my fault you take so long on your runs."
Gaddy stood up straight. "Well, now you're taking too long packing. Grab the captain and finish up; I'll be in there in a few to check what you've got."
"Alright!"
Gaddy blinked when she caught a slight British lilt in his reply. After he left, she continued putting away the room, cleaning out loose papers and debris, and reorganizing her belongings to fit everything in her suitcases. She was throwing away an Upton Park flyer when she caught sight of some of the parchment from the letter in the trash bag. It had the 'H' seal of the alleged school that was harassing her.
She stared at it for a moment, before saying loudly, "There is no such thing as magic."
The Upton Park flyer was thrown in with the rest of the garbage.
Endnote: We all know who owns what, so screw disclaimers. This is going to be a very long term story, covering from this point in the fourth book and on. Criticism is extremly helpful. And I won't be promising any kind of consistency with posting up more chapters: I'll admit that I have roughly 10 chapters written, but I've already decided not to post three of them and I have to edit everything else to fit the lack of info from those, so this is still a rough work in progress. The posting of this first chapter surprises even me. So, there's all that.