Dear Mr. Lucas,

I liked your movie a lot. The special effects were the best. Daddy says that Industrial Light and Magic made all the effects. I would like to work there. Is five old enough? And do you use real magic?

It was the spring of '77. A warm breeze was coming up from the south, the smell of earth and foliage permeated the air, and "Star Wars A New Hope" was playing in every cinema in the greater London area. That last detail, however, was unknown to the two men that had just appeared in front of a small two-story home in a predominantly normal suburban part of town. They were much more concerned with the front door that stood ajar, and the cause of the green glow that seemed to encompass the front of the building. The shorter man shook himself suddenly, then started towards the door, calling back over his shoulder to his companion, "Get rid of that before some muggle sees it."

"Yessir," the man replied, then muttered under his breath as he set to work, "Aye, you never were good at those memory charms, Mister Harrison Jones, sir. Why must I always be the one to clear up this green sludge? Next time, he can do this and I'll poke around inside the house like I own the place… Git…"

He finished in record time, wishing with all his might he were at home with his wife and kids – if he had a wife and kids, that is – then went looking for his superior. The front door opened into what could have been called a well-kept and nicely decorated living room, were it not in complete shambles. "The Death Eaters certainly had their fun this time, Mark," Jones called from the kitchen. "Whole first floor is trashed."

"Any victims?"

"One, behind the couch. Looks like Cruciatus for a while, then a quick AK at some point. Bloody shame."

"Aye," Mark replied, picking up a family photograph from the floor and glancing at it. "How you want to set it up for when the missus and kid come home?"

"A family, eh?" Jones eyed a trinket on the mantelpiece and quickly pocketed it. Spoils of a low-level ministry job, he called it. "Best clean the place up, then. They can blame the death on a latent heart problem or some such crap. Muggles tend to like that one."

A series of quick spells repaired the broken table legs and smashed chairs, cleaned the scorch marks off the walls, and returned everything to its original place. The gold knickknack flew out of Jones' coat pocket and landed back above the fireplace. He didn't notice.

Striding across the room, Mark checked to ensure the spells had done their job. He had just begun to think about the date he wasn't going to have later that night when he opened the door to the closet – and the fantasy came to a screeching stop.

"Shit. Jones! Code four!"

"What the hell? Just tell me what's the matter, Fisher, don't give me any of that code crap," came the reply from the kitchen.

"Fine! There's a short, blue-eyed muggle kid standing in the closet looking at me!"

"A kid?" The other man dashed into the room and ascertained the veracity of the claim. "Ah, shit. Did she see?"

Mark knelt down to look into the little girl's eyes. His voice became gentle. "Hello, little miss. My name is Mr. Fisher."

The child, no older than five, blinked and replied in a tiny voice, "Hello."

Encouraged, he continued. "What's your name, little miss?"

"Lia."

"Cut the crap, man, this is taking too long," Jones complained as he bent over and put his face very near to the girl's. "What did you see, kid?"

She stared back at him, silent.

"I'm asking you, what did you see?"

"Green," she replied, and turned her gaze back to the more comforting member of the pair. "Green."

"Stupefy."

The girl went limp when the red light hit her, and fell forward into Mark's waiting arms.

"Good idea, Fisher. We'll put her to bed, I'll obliviate her, the mother will come home and think her hubby did all the nightly rituals and had a heart attack all on his own. Tragic, but convenient."

Heading for the staircase with his arms full, "Shouldn't we call in the Obliviators?"

"Naah, she's just a little tyke. Won't need much of a memory charm, I say. Besides, I'm in no mood to deal with that lot. And the paperwork! If you want to go through that many miles of parchment, that's your problem. Me, I'll avoid it when I can, and today I can."

"But if it doesn't work…"

"Who'd believe her anyway, Fisher? She's just a muggle. Let's get a move on, before we find any more surprises."

Five minutes later, two cracks echoed through the house, and the small girl stirred.

Six years later, a large brown owl delivered a very interesting letter addressed in green ink to one Lia Townsend…

iiiii

Hi Mum.

You must be so bored right now without me around to make life interesting, as you always say. The train ride here was very long, but it was ok because a lady came around with a cart full of treats. They all had odd names I didn't recognize, so I bought the ones that sounded the weirdest.

I met the biggest man in the world, I swear, his name is Hagrid and he took all us first years across the lake to get to the school. Professor McG was there…

"Townsend, Lia!"

A girl, slight in build, with dark hair framing a determined countenance, stepped out of the line of her fellow eleven-year-olds. She walked towards Professor McGonagall – who, probably understanding her apprehension, gave her a secret encouraging smile – and sat at the stool as the mysterious Sorting Hat was placed upon her head.

"Ah, let's see here… Yes… A good mind, Ravenclaw would be a suitable choice for you, but let's keep looking… Too lazy for Hufflepuff, don't be cross, you know it's true. Definitely not Slytherin, you're much too blunt, a terrible liar… Take a quick peek at your memories now, what's this? My oh my, you have been through some rather tough times I daresay, your father—"

"Leave off!" the girl thought at the hat.

"Well, as I was saying, that takes a fair amount of courage and inner strength to get through, and I'd say you're a good fit for either Ravenclaw or Griffindor, which house do you want?"

Had she been speaking to a regular person, she might've rolled her eyes. In this case she figured it best to refrain from doing so. "It would be impossible for me to make an educated decision concerning two unknowns, just put me where I'll be happiest."

"Well, if you're going to be like that, better be RAVENCLAW!"

Lia felt the hat being lifted from her head; her eyes took in the entire table of her new house cheering for her. She hopped off the stool and ran to take a seat next to the other first year students at one of the long benches.

The girl on her right began chattering to anyone nearby about house loyalty and Hufflepuffs ("The plodding dolts don't know anything!"), Gryffindors ("Gryffindorks! Reckless! Always plowing unthinking into stupid situations!"), Slytherins ("Evil to the core they are, evil to the core!"), and Ravenclaws ("My family's been in this house for ages, we always said we should toss the Sorting Hat and just put people in their family's houses, that's where they belong.").

Lia laughed with everyone else nearby when the girl's triplet boy cousins were sorted into Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff, respectively.

Hurt, the girl turned to Lia, "And what house were your parents in?"

"My mum's an engineer."

The girl's eyes narrowed. "And what does your father do?"

"Well, right now he's laughing at you from heaven."

The table joined in with Lia and her father again. Then food filled the dishes, Lia gave the girl her dessert as a peace offering, and promptly forgot the whole thing while she thought about just how she came to be here… Hogwarts…

iiiii

Lia stared intently at the kitchen door from her seat on the arm of the couch. She did this trick sometimes, when her mother was talking on the phone privately, or discussing something important with a guest. Concentrating hard, she wished as hard as she could that she knew what was going on in the other room. Moments later, the wooden door shimmered, then faded enough for the eleven-year-old to see the new woman in the green dress sip her tea. Professor McGonagall, professor of Transfiguration, head of Gryffindor house, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her mother's voice, though in a hushed tone, made its way to Lia's ears.

"So you expect me to send my only daughter off to a school I've never heard of that's somewhere in Scotland so she can learn what?"

The professor replied, as calm as you please, "Magic."

"Yes, I knew that part, it was in that letter you people sent. You don't honestly believe I'm going to let you teach my daughter a few card tricks and nothing real."

"Magic is real, and it is not card tricks, I assure you. Surely you've noticed several of your daughter's unusual abilities? Special quirks?" At that, she glanced towards the kitchen door, somehow managing to look directly into Lia's eyes. Startled, the girl jumped and lost concentration; the door solidified again, and the voices were muffled once more.

Soon, though, the door opened, and there her mother stood, beckoning her with a hand. She sat at the table obediently and prepared to listen patiently. "Well, poppet, it seems we might have an explanation for some things."

"Like the time Rick jumped out of the closet at me and somehow caught fire? And the time when all the light bulbs exploded? And when my turntable kept playing for five minutes after you unplugged it because it was too loud? And when I made us late for the airport and the flight we missed ended up crashing?"

"I remember all except that last one, but that's probably because it didn't happen."

She grinned at her mother cheekily, blue eyes glinting. "Just keeping you on your toes, Momma. When does school start?"

"Are you absolutely sure you wish to attend, Miss Townsend?" McGonagall cut in.

The blue glint became a bright glow. "Oh, yes! I've been tangling up my mother's hair for far too long."

"Eleven years isn't that long, poppet."

"It's ages long, Mum. It's been forever."

"Don't even start begging, Lia, especially since I'm letting you go."

The girl leapt at her mother, encircling her young arms around the older woman's neck and swinging her legs behind her. "Yes! I'm going to Hogwarts! Wait till I tell Rick! I'm going to learn magic and be a witch! I'm going to live in the wizarding world!"

Running for the door, Lia didn't hear her mother quietly ask the professor, "Is it safe?"

Nor did she hear the reply, "It is now."

iiiii

Dear Rick,

I can't believe it's almost Christmas already! Tatiana (we call her Tana) Chester's becoming my best friend here (but you'll always be my best, best friend, I promise). She keeps talking about how she wishes her parents will sneak her a broomstick in with all her presents. She wants to be on the house team next year. I think she's nutters.

Classes have been very interesting. Charms is still my favorite. I want to try to figure out how to enchant my record player so that it will play records on school grounds. I should probably ask Professor Flitwick about it, but I haven't gotten up the nerve yet.

Potions is still a nightmare. I like the subject, but Avonlee Sasher is still giving me a hard time (she's the nutty girl I told you about – the one who hates me) and I'm sure any day now Snape's going to make us partner up. He's the absolute worst…

Lia leaned against a wall down the corridor from the potions classroom she and Tana had just exited. Students were still leaving as she complained loudly, "That was absolutely the worst class I have ever had the misfortune to attend!"

Tana tugged on her friend's elbow, drawing her away. She didn't want any kind of negative comments being made within the earshot of their acerbic potions professor. "Come on, it was only a swelling solution, how hard could it be?"

"Oh no, it wasn't the potion, that was easy. But the instruction was atrocious, every time I raised my head there was Snape, glaring around at everyone."

"That's nothing new."

"I know. But it gets rather disconcerting after a while, don't you think?"

"After the first month, yeah. That's why the Hufflepuffs never look up anymore, they stare at the cauldrons and nothing else. You should be used to this by now."

Lia hung her head. "I know."

"You've only got a problem because you were a big enough dolt to not follow the rules of potions class."

"Never speak, never laugh, and make eye contact with Snape at your own peril?"

"Right in one." She shook a finger at her friend in mock chastisement. "You know the rules, you really ought to follow them."

"This coming from you."

"When it comes to potions class," Tana paused to cross her arms defiantly, "I'll do whatever it takes to stay out of his line of fire, and you really should, too."

"Can't help it. I'm a Ravenclaw. I have to try everything once. Sometimes twice."

"Idealism is for Gryffindors."

Lia wrinkled her nose at the comment. "Now that's just low."

The weeks went by, class remained miserable.

"Miss Townsend. Do you recall what color your potion is supposed to be?"

Lia bit her lip before remembering that it was a sure sign of her nervousness. "Um. Light green."

"And do you call this light green?"

Foregoing the usual timid response that was generally expected, she responded, "More of an acid green, actually, but the textbook isn't exactly clear on that."

"Ten points from Ravenclaw for your cheek, Miss Townsend."

"Thank you, sir."

Tana glared at her friend as Snape turned his back on their table, and gave her an elbow in the ribs for good measure. "You had to talk back to him."

"Shh."

"You just had to talk back to him."

"Quiet."

"See where your experimentation leads? Ten points, Lia!"

Without turning from a Hufflepuff pair's slightly smoking cauldron, the source of Tana's distress added, "And another ten points for speaking out of turn, Miss Chester."

She sunk down in her chair. "Yes, sir."

They didn't speak until they were well out the door and halfway up the stairs leading from the dungeons, when Lia muttered, "That was your own fault, you know."

Tana stared down her nose. "Do I look like I'm blaming you?"

"Yes, actually."

"Half those points are yours, you know."

"I'm aware of that. We'll just have to be extra-good in Charms today, that's all. We'll make up the points before anyone else is the wiser."

"Just because you're Flitwick's favorite doesn't mean he'll pass you twenty points just for coming to class."

"I'm not his favorite. I think I rank around sixteenth. And as long as we're our charming selves we'll be fine. Did you do the reading last night?"

"Umm…"

"Tana!"

"I think I did. I was a bit tired by that time, though."

"So it's all up to me."

"Uh-huh."

"Well, try not to make eye contact."

"I have lots of practice from potions. Unlike some people."

iiiii

In the middle of Transfiguration, without any warning at all, Lia felt someone kicking her chair. It happened once, and she ignored it, figuring it to be an accident. But then it happened again. And again. And then there was simply a continuous rhythm of kicks knocking at the back of her chair. The moment Professor McGonagall turned her back to the class, Lia spun in her chair to glare at the offender.

Kyle Oden grinned back at her, raising his eyebrows innocently as the dimples in his cheeks gave his devilry away. Drawing a finger across her throat, Lia tried to give him an impression of what would happen to him if he continued with his current activities. In response, he smoothed out his features and stared toward the front of the classroom.

"Miss Townsend, face the front," McGonagall scolded. "Mr. Oden is not that good-looking."

Lia obeyed, but didn't miss the scowl that crossed Kyle's face at the slight. Next to her, Tana gave a slight yelp; the boy had obviously moved on to his next victim, and this time it was Tana who was scolded for glaring at the boy behind them.

Fifteen minutes later, the first year Ravenclaws were walking down to the greenhouses for their Herbology class, and Lia was using this time to threaten Kyle Oden's physical, emotional, and psychological well-being, since, "We could've lost even more points, and I still haven't made up for the ones we lost to Snape last week!"

When they got to class, she partnered up with Kevin Merris – the large, disturbingly nice boy that usually partnered with the object of her distress – who kindly handled all the dirty tasks in lieu of her wrath.

iiiii

"But quidditch has brooms!"

"And football soccer players do it all on their own energy, without such a crutch!"

"Brooms, Lia!"

The girls shot daggers at each other for several long seconds, then, as if on command, each turned and retreated to opposite corners of the common room. Lia chose to stand in front of the fireplace; the castle had a damp, chilly feel to it this time of year. She noticed Nellie Zeluka in a nearby armchair, reading yet again. Never much of a talker, that one. Lia decided it was about time she made conversation, to expand her sphere of friends and such, for times when the never-ending quidditch versus football debate got out of hand.

Nellie pulled the book in close to her chest as she heard someone approach, then said, "Oh, it's you," and relaxed a bit.

Lia peeked at the large tome. "Do you have a magazine tucked in there?" She paused a moment as Nellie's expression grew worried. "Well, which one is it? Anything good? I miss the ones my mom always gets."

At this time she was shown the cover, and she nodded her approval. "Why're you hiding it with that book? It's just a magazine."

Nellie nodded over to Avonlee Sasher, who was talking with her own group of friends while scanning the room like a hawk for someone to harass. "This is easier than putting up with her crap all day."

"Oh."

Lia left Nellie to her magazine and started across the common room to make up with Tana and discuss what she'd just learned – that the muggleborns were being made uncomfortable in their own house by their very own Miss Sasher. A game of exploding snap got out of hand as she passed, and a poof of smoke blew into her face. Kyle Oden, the obnoxious Kyle Oden, proceeded to apologize profusely and invite her to play. From the sour look that still graced Tana's face, Lia decided it might be a good idea to wait a little longer, so she agreed.

iiiii

"This is very upsetting, girls. Very upsetting," Professor Flitwick said from his perch on top of his desk later that week, after the two had begun speaking again.

"What can we do about it, though?" Lia asked. "Nellie has to hide her magazines, I'm dodging glares left and right, and no matter what anyone says or does, Avonlee still thinks we're rotten."

"Is it just her, or are there more people involved in this?"

Tana and Lia glanced at each other, and the latter replied, "I haven't gotten any direct bad treatment from anyone else, but…"

"No one ever tells her she's wrong. None of her friends, at least, or any of the older people she looks up to." The other girl was very obviously outraged as much as her companion, despite her own pureblooded status.

"Hmm… Thank you for coming to me with this, girls. I'll speak with Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't figure something out, alright?"

"Yes, professor."

"And see if you can't get Miss Zeluka to talk more. She's far too quiet, I think."

iiiii

Mum,

Thanks for the package. Kyle says the cookies were delicious, and that you are to send more next week. And the week after that. And the week after that. And so on. Tana and Kevin agree. This is what I get for sharing…

Something finally came of Tana and I talking to Professor Flitwick about that Avonlee twit (yes I know its rude but she really is a twit!). We had a big House activity last night in the common room, where we had a big discussion comparing famous wizards and muggles. The general conclusion was that muggles do just as well as wizards, considering the lack of magic. Congratulations, Mum, they've decided engineers must be brilliant.

Avonlee never openly bothered Nellie or Lia after that. Muggle and wizarding magazines alike often could be found lying on random tables in the common room, for anyone to pick up, and Batman comic books were being circulated at an alarming rate, God bless Bob Kane.

At approximately half-past noon on the last day of term, Lia ran the final stretch of the many miles between Professor Flitwick's office, where she had just been, and the great hall, where she was currently missing lunch. So intent was she on getting there before Kyle decimated the dessert tray, that she paid no attention to her surroundings and ended up colliding with a certain tall, ill-tempered potions professor, spilling books and papers everywhere.

Although Lia had ended up with her bottom on the floor, Snape had managed to remain standing, and now from her position seemed twice as tall and menacing. "Miss Townsend! Kindly watch out where you are going the next time you barrel through the corridors!"

"I'm terribly sorry, Professor Snape, I'll be sure to run with my eyes open from now on," she replied jocularly, picking up her fallen items. After all, term was over, she was going home tomorrow and wouldn't have to put up with his glares until the beginning of September.

He stooped to retrieve his things. "Watch your tone, Miss Townsend, or you'll find yourself in detention until midnight on the first day of your second year."

"Can punishments for something really carry over into another year?" she asked, intrigued and choosing to ignore his blatant threat of reprisal.

"It has been known to happen. Although if you're lucky you won't end up in Azkaban like the last person to receive that punishment," this last part he muttered under his breath. Then he stood, gave his usual glare, and stalked down the hall and around a corner.

It wasn't until later, after the leaving feast was concluded, and Tana had finally started packing, that Lia reached into her bag and pulled out a book, borrowed from Professor Flitwick for the summer after swearing not to tell a soul about it. She read the title, "Most Potente Potions. What?"

"What?" inquired Tana's muffled voice from under her bed, she being on a desperate search for seven missing left socks.

Lia threw the book to the floor. "Oh bugger. Remember when I ran into Snape today?"

"Smart move, that was. What about it?"

"I think we got our books mixed up."

Lia did not need to see her friend's upper body to know that Tana was rolling her eyes. "So go get yours back. As long as it's not a dirty romance novel, I don't think he'll particularly care. Though he'll probably scowl at you."

"And for that, I should make you come with me."

"Not me, I've got to pack. Make Kevin go. He'll protect you from mean nasty Snapey-kins."

"You're revolting."

"Yep."

Severus Snape was just about to move on to the final stage of his leaving preparations, that being packing up the contents of his office desk, when he was interrupted by a soft knock at his door. Opening it revealed the familiar blue eyes of one of the mouthiest first years he'd encountered in his – admittedly few – years of being a professor at Hogwarts.

"I'm here to negotiate a prisoner exchange." Allright, the mouthiest. "I mean, a book exchange." She held up his copy of Most Potente Potions.

He walked over to his desk, where her book was serving as a paperweight for a foot-high stack of parchments. "First tell me why you have in your possession a copy of Magical Machines: The Underground Guide to Mechanics Enchantment."

"Research. Why do you have a copy of Most Potente Potions?"

"Research," he replied.

The two regarded each other for a moment. Then Lia said, "I won't tell if you won't tell."

"Deal."