Summary/Intro:
Lately I have been having odd dreams, except they weren't exactly dreams. They were visions involving a battle. A familiar boy was leading his people. At the first glimpse of his scar I realized why he looked so familiar; he was Harry Potter.
April 30th, 1998
"ARGH!" I woke up yelling, sweat dribbling down my forehead. I looked over at my clock, 2:00 a.m flashing in bright red. Groaning I got up and decided to make myself some tisane to calm my nerves.
I just woke up from the strangest dream. Lately I have been having odd dreams, except they weren't exactly dreams. They were premonitions involving a battle. A familiar boy was leading his people. At the first glimpse of his scar I realized why he looked so familiar; he was Harry Potter.
Harry Potter was a wizard. The Boy Who Lived to be more precise.
Harry Potter was also my childhood best friend.
*flashback*
"What are you doing here freak? This is for the big kids. Not for losers like you!" Some big kid yelled at a scrawny boy with round specks. The boy looked like he wanted to run away but couldn't as he was surrounded by other children.
"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" could be heard from the small crowd of children in the recreation space in the back of the elementary school.
Won't anyone do anything? It's the first day of school, no one should be treated like this, I thought to myself in anger. Looking around I noticed the teacher in charge pretending to not see what was going on. Huffing in anger I decided that I was going to help the poor boy. I marched over to the crowd with one goal in mind.
"OI! FREE CHOCOLATE IN THE FOOD ROOM!" I yelled at the top of my lungs and watched in astonishment as kids rushed past me and inside the school building. Only the small boy was left outside, tears running down his face.
Walking up to him I asked, "Are you okay?" Good going Jane. He's crying and you ask a stupid question. He looked up at me, taking off his cheap looking glasses and wiping away the tears, and nodded.
"Thank you," he said in a small voice. "You shouldn't have done that. Now everyone will hate you!"
I laughed.
"That's okay!" I held out my hand, "My name is Jane Andrea Michaels, age 8." Taking my hand, he said in the same manner, "My name is Harry James Potter, age 7!"
Grinning I said, "You're my new best mate!"
*Flashback over*
Unfortunately, I moved to Canada with my parents a year later. During the first year I sent monthly letters to Harry but never got any replies. Eventually I stopped and as a result I haven't had any contact with Harry Potter since then; that is, until my dreams started.
I was 12 at the time and didn't know what was happening, thinking I was just dreaming of my best friend, yes he was still considered that, as I missed him. But these dreams were too realistic to be just dreams. My parents eventually explained what was going on once I came to them panicking because I saw a man with two faces attacking Harry. Magic is real. As it turns out, my great-great-grandmother was a Squib, a non magical person in a magical family, and the females in her family were known to be seers at some point in time. Lucky me, I gained the ability.
Thanks to these visions I knew all about Harry Potter. Once in a while I get glimpses of his life. Tonight's vision was different. I haven't had a vision this detailed in a long time. The end of the war is near. I felt Harry's pain, almost as if I was him, fighting in the battle that'll determine the future.
Groaning I decided to wait until morning to decide what to do about my vision.
A week later my plan was finally in action, although I implemented it without knowing exactly what it is I was doing. All I really knew was that in order to enter the Wizarding side of London I had to find a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. I needed some answers.
"Oh great, good going Jane," I muttered to myself in frustration once I realized how lost I was. "I might as well make this a learning experience." I sighed to myself and started walking around. London was beautiful and completely different to Canada. I had always wanted to come back here. Unfortunately, the circumstances involving me being back in London was not ideal.
As I was walking around I saw an odd shimmer around an empty area. Having magical blood in my body sometimes permitted me to see or sense magic surrounding areas; this was definitely a magical place. Gazing at the same place intensely I started to see an old building appear, followed by windows and a door, with a shabby looking sign saying Leaky Cauldron.
This is it, I thought. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the worn door open. Walking inside I noticed that the pub, which is a link between muggle and wizarding London, was as shabby looking as the outside. Don't wizards know what cleaning is? I thought to myself as I sneezed from all the dust in the pub.
The pub was packed with people celebrating.
Cautiously I walked to the barkeeper. "I take it the war is over?" I asked, hoping to find out what happened to "The Chosen One." The man looked at me with a grin and exclaimed, "Well 'Lil Lady, yes it is! Harry Potter finally rid us of You-Know-Who!"
Is he okay? Is he alive? Just because he defeated Voldemort doesn't mean he didn't perish in the process. I voiced my concerns to the man at the counter. "No worries. Mr. Potter is well alive. Are you a friend of his?" he wondered in a kind voice.
I nodded. "Yes. Uh, sorry but do you know a place where I could stay, and perhaps an owl I could use to send a letter?"
The barkeeper, Tom, informed me that there were rooms available in the pub and that he will happily provide me with one free of charge. "Any friends of Mr. Potter's are welcomed here!" he exclaimed happily, giving me a key with the number eight on it. "As for the owl you can borrow one from Diagon Alley. Remember: from the trash can tap Three Up, Two Across with your wand."
Oh.
I had forgotten that minor detail.
I had no wand as I'm not a witch.
"Sorry sir, but I don't have a wand. I'm not a witch," I explained, suddenly feeling stupid. Mr. Tom's eyes widened in shock.
"A muggle?" he questioned quietly. I had no idea what a muggle was but I nodded anyways figuring that's what they called us people with no powers.
He grabbed my arm in a tight grip and brought me in a room at the back of the pub. By that time, I was freaking out not knowing what was happening. Mr. Tom told me to sit on an old wooden chair while he threw in some kind of powder into the fireplace. Green flames erupted in the fireplace. He put his face into the green fire and began speaking.
"Minister, we have a problem."
I am screwed.
Author's Note: I hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter of J.A. Michaels The First Muggle Professor. I first wrote this over two years ago. I decided to read through it again as I think it has the potential of becoming a good story. I have a few chapters written but I will try uploading weekly. With finals coming up it will be hard, but I'll try my best!
~Sabrina