A/N: I decided to play with the idea of someone famous in the Muggle world having to go to Hogwarts. It's similar to the idea of the household name The Boy Who Lived having to go to Hogwarts, but putting more of an emphasis on making sure that Muggles don't find out her secret. You'll see some familiar faces, set about a year before Harry enters his first year.
65,000 letters arrive at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue every week.
Few of them are ever addressed to me.
But I could tell that this one was. My mother absent-mindedly traced the wax seal with her finger. My older sister, back from Yale for the weekend, stared at the words that had been beautifully printed on the parchment.
They both looked up and noticed that I had walked into the kitchen. "Oh, Katie sweetheart, you're here, good," my mother said calmly, as she pulled out the chair next to her, "Your father should be here any minute."
We weren't alone in the room. There was somebody else sitting in the chair opposite mine, wearing a fancy hat and holding a thin stick of sorts, and tapping it anxiously on the desk. She was wearing normal clothes, but she looked uncomfortable and out of place. She did not acknowledge my entrance into the room. The door opened.
A small entourage of my father's senior staffers walked into the room. They are all holding clipboards, twiddling away on Blackberries and chattering about the new water bill. They all stopped dead when they see my mother's frozen face.
"Mrs. Marshall, we were paged about some situation in the residence, is everything okay? President Marshall is on a private phone call with the English prime minister, but he'll be here soon," said Ellie Meyers, White House Press Secretary.
Communications Director Edward Martin cleared his throat and stepped forward from the amoeba of advisors. "Mrs. Marshall, um, sorry, would you mind?" he asked, gesturing towards the strange woman in the hat.
"Oh, yes, sorry, Henry, everybody, this is Professor Minerva, erm—" my mother exchanged an uncomfortable glance with her.
"McGonagall," the woman said, straightening her hat, "Minerva McGonagall."
A head popped in the door. "The president," announced a personal aide.
My father walked in, unperturbed by the gathering of staff or the strange woman, who was beginning to whistle a song. "What is this all about?" he barked and sat down. The rest of the staff sat down at his beckoning. My mother picked up the letter and shoved it into his hand. He perused it and chuckled.
He looked up and laughed even more at our serious faces. "This is some sort of joke, right? It's hilarious though. Who wrote this?" he asked, turning over the envelope for a return address. "I owe them a congratulatory phone call."
"William, it's not a joke," my mother said, exasperated. "This—this, is Professor McGonagall, from Hogwarts." She pointed to Professor McGonagall, who gave a polite smile and a curt wave before returning to reading the newspaper on the breakfast table. She poked it with her wand, as if she were expecting something.
"Oh okay," my father snapped, sounding quite annoyed. "Some woman dresses up in a witch hat, so this is all real. Congratulations Katie, have fun at wizard school. Send us a postcard. My god, do people have nothing better to do?"
Professor McGonagall whipped her head up to the conversation. "I'll have you know that Hogwarts is the finest school for wizardry and I assure you that it is all very real," she snapped angrily.
"Prove it," said Ed Martin, and the rest of the staffers huddle closer to watch.
Ellie made sure to close the door. Professor McGonagall stood up and looked as if she were about to strike someone. She strode towards the door, muttered something under her breath, and a light shone around the door.
"Just making sure," said Professor McGonagall cheerfully and she took off her hat to reveal a tightly wound bun that looked as if it had never been undone. She rolled up her sleeves, still humming the electric tune she had been whistling moments earlier.
And then it happened. Gone was the strange looking, bun-wearing, song-whistling woman I had seen moments before. She had been replaced…by a cat.
"Um, mom, I'm sorry, but I'm still really confused. Can someone explain this to me? I'm not really sure where the whole magic part comes in," I whispered to my mother while the senior staffers were talking. It would clearly take a while to shut them up after Professor McGonagall's stunning "transfiguration" as she had referred to it.
She had then done a plethora of spells, jinxes, hexes, curses, charms, everything. She had made the plants in the room blossom into beautiful roses and shot fountains of water from the kitchen sink. There was not a soul in the room who didn't believe her anymore.
"Just read the letter. It says everything in the letter," my mother said. She clapped her hand to her forehead and whispered a prayer to herself, a sign that there was a problem at hand.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Ms. Marshall,
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 on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
"Katherine, do you prefer Katie?" said Professor McGonagall, walking towards me. "Have you ever made things happen? Things that weren't supposed to happen or something you couldn't control?"
I thought about it for a minute. It was sort of true. I thought about the mysterious unraveling of Maya Jacobsen's sweater after she had called me a teachers' pet. The time the Republican's representative's teacup had mysteriously and repeatedly drained after he had bashed my dad in a Congressional hearing. Had it been me doing all those things?
"I guess. Maybe?" I said, unsurely. I knew I wasn't giving her the answer she had hoped for. But I wasn't entirely sure what she thought would qualify as a "thing".
"Alright," said my dad, pouring himself a drink and sitting down at the table. "She's a wizard, sure. What if we don't want to send her to this school? I mean, seven years at a wizard school in England? Fox will kill me for that."
"While I'm sure it is very easy to make this about your standings in the media, I think we should be more concerned about your daughter's welfare. Last time I checked, your approval ratings were just fine," snapped Professor McGonagall.
"Yeah, thanks to us," muttered Edward, and most everyone in the room glared at him reproachfully.
"I'm sorry Professor McGonagall, but I'm just a little confused. Could you explain this from the very beginning? I think there are some missing pieces, that could be helpful in figuring out just what to do," said Ellie, stepping forward and giving a welcoming smile.
"Oh, of course, yes, let's see. Where do we begin?" said Professor McGonagall. "I work at a school for wizards: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There is a magical quill at Hogwarts. It detects the births of all magical children within the United Kingdom. You do all know what a quill is, right?"
Deputy Chief of Staff Brenda Ming snorted. "Yes, somewhere in my seven years at Harvard, I managed to learn what a quill is. But, why are you here if this is only English wizards?"
Professor McGonagall gave her a stare so cold, it looked like it could have frozen her right there.
My mother spoke for the first time in a while. "Katie was born over there. She was a few weeks premature. Skadden sent me to the London office for a little bit, just before I took maternity leave and she came early."
"Anyway, as I was saying," said Professor McGonagall. "The quill takes down the names and every year, I look at the registry and send letters out to each student who has turned eleven that there is a spot for them at Hogwarts. Katherine Marshall, your name was on the list. There are three categories of wizards. Purebloods are wizards with two parents who are also both wizards. Half-bloods are wizards with a wizard parent and a non-wizard parents. And finally, there are Muggle-borns, where the two parents have not a drop of magical blood. That would be you."
"Sorry, did you say Muggle?" asked Brenda Ming, looking up from her Blackberry, smirking, and looking back down.
McGonagall did not bother to respond. "It is of the utmost importance that Muggles know nothing of the wizarding world," she said sharply. "Once this is leaked, it is almost inevitable that people will solely turn to wizards and magic to solve their problems, disturbing the natural world."
"I'm not doing it," said my father firmly. "If you don't want any Muggles to know, I don't think sending America's favorite 11-year-old to Hogwarts is going to really help. There are always cameras on her. There is always media coverage and tabloids, gossip, everything. We can't risk it. And you lot can't risk it either," he said.
"Well, it appears we have a bit of a problem then," said Professor McGonagall seriously. "The problem with magic is that if the being in possession of it does not know how to control it, things can go horribly, horribly wrong."
"What do you mean, 'wrong'?" said my mother, with extreme concern in her voice.
"Well, you're at a state dinner and sparks start flying. Something explodes. Someone is hurt. Placing a child in wizarding school is an effective means of channeling their magic and power and making sure that they can exercise full control over it," said Professor McGonagall calmly. "We knew when we saw you on the list Miss Marshall, that it would be a difficult situation for you. And we completely understand if it is just impossible. But, I must warn you, worse things can happen than a few people being suspicious."
"We'll do it," said my father, almost instantaneously.
"William, can we please talk about this. It's a big change. Sending her to a wizarding school? What if this is just some big sham? What if she's kidnapped or taken somewhere?" my mother began a tirade of worst case scenarios, until finally, a personal aide calmed her down with a glass of water.
"Julie, you know it's for the best. We'll have Secret Service detail, maybe one or two guys on her and she'll be fine," said my father. He was used to dealing with genocide and health care, and so I'm sure that my imminent departure to wizard school seemed nothing.
"Erm, I don't exactly know how we'll manage the Secret Service at Hogwarts. After all, the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy enforces that wizards go into hiding and Hogwarts is the safest place in the world. We have taken all the necessary precautions to make sure that Muggles cannot go anywhere near Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall cautiously, waiting for a reaction from my parents.
"Is there any sort of Wizarding security, or guards or anything that we can work with?" my father asked. I was somewhat annoyed at how little they had managed to involve me in the whole process and at how content they seemed deciding my future.
"I'm sorry sir, but before we discuss that, how are we going to handle the press? People are going to ask questions. It's certain that people would follow her, even if we made up some boarding school lie. Is there any way we could really hide this?" said Ellie, who had been silent for a while.
"Oh, I'll take care of that Ms. Meyers. Don't worry. Anyway, I can have Professor Dumbledore arrange for some protection to be placed at Hogwarts. I'm sure he'll be happy to oblige."
"Sorry Professor McGonagall, how do you suppose we take care of all the press and the media and every person who steps into this White House? There's a staff, fifty congressmen, over four hundred representatives who know Katie. People would notice if she just disappeared," Ellie interrupted.
"No Muggles, or non-magical people, can see Hogwarts. It has been protected by some of the strongest Muggle-repelling charms in existence. We just say she's away at school, and if anyone tries to follow her, they will be most unsuccessful," Professor McGonagall said calmly.
"Well, alright. Is there some sort of confidentiality agreement we're supposed to sign, about the whole magic thing?" Ellie asked, puzzled.
"When I say three, you lot will all forget everything I have just told you. You will forget everything about magic and you will go back to your lives. President and Mrs. Marshall, I'll be taking Katie for the rest of the summer," the professor said sharply, drawing out her wand.
One
"Wait!" cried Ed and Ellie.
Two
"Katie!" my parents and sister both yelled.
Three
"Obliviate!"
