A/N: This is a completely OC fic. As much as I adore the canon characters, I would also take great joy in killing them all, and since I know better than to upset the fan mobs, we're just not going to have them in the fic at all. I win.
The Americas were basically wizardless, always had been. Most wizards were European, and took great pride in that fact, especially the old families, and the pureblooded families. The area was so volatile – and, lately, prone to violence – that most avoided even visiting. Let the Muggles migrate there. The Wizards would stay right where they were.
But a few had gone over, because it is a rule that there is an exception to every rule. They had been poorer families, with diluted bloodlines, so much that wizards only appeared every few generations, generally with Muggle spouses who yearned for what was then the New World. Without other wizards, the blood continued to thin. It had gotten to the point where only one child in a thousand of the same bloodline would be able to use magic. There hadn't been a wizard in those two continents since before the American Revolution.
Except for Canada, but Canada was the wizarding world's exception to every rule. If something was impossible everywhere else, Canada had done it. Wizards had lived there for ages, perhaps before there had been wizards in Europe, a boast that the European wizards fervently denied. They had broken from the original Ministry of Magic and formed their own a few years ago. There had been a mass migration to the country shortly afterwards until the two Ministries put a stop to it. Communications with Canada were mostly closed now that they had their own wizarding school, but that was all right, since it wasn't Canada that was causing all the stir.
It was the United States that was worrying.
"There are fifteen children with wizarding abilities! Fifteen! When there hasn't been a witch or wizard there born in centuries!" The Minister of Magic – the one who held the original seat, not Canada's minister – was sweating like a pig, pacing back and forth in front of Headmaster Whittaker's desk. "The blood is so thin that even one would be amazing. Their grandparents are all Muggles. Their grandparents' grandparents are Muggles! They shouldn't have enough magic in them to lift a feather!" Miranda shuffled the papers on her desk, not even pretending to pay attention anymore. That fat oaf Gill had been saying the same thing for the last half hour, as though she hadn't been able to comprehend it the first time. She knew the odds of a wizard appearing with such thin blood, and they weren't good, but it seemed Fate was playing with loaded dice. She might as well get some work done as the Minister tried to huff himself into exhaustion. Until then, she wouldn't get a word in edgewise.
"They were all born within weeks of each other, too!" the Minister continued, waving his arms around for emphasis. That was new information: interesting, but not particularly useful, Miranda reflected.
"Minister?" she interrupted, but he simply talked right over her, ranting about how it wasn't possible and someone must be tampering with his reports and other such nonsense. She tried again. Nothing. "GILL!" she shouted, slamming a hand down on her desk. The Minister paused mid-word, mouth hanging open. "This is all fine and good, but I fail to see how it concerns me and my school. If you wanted to talk, there are people – other people, Mr. Gill – who would be happy to listen to you for hours on end. You'll forgive me for being blunt, but I have work to do, and unless this has a point, I'll throw you out of my office, Minister or not."
For a moment, Michael Gill was too stunned to say anything at all. He played with his small round glasses, mouth working soundlessly as he struggled for words. Suddenly, he found them. The Minister returned his glasses to their proper place on his chubby nose and glared indignantly at her. "My dear Headmistress," he began, spite seeping into his tone.
"Headmaster," she corrected, idly taking notes on her paper. They were really just scribbles, but it made Gill nervous. He seemed to think she was evaluating him or something. "'Headmistress' sounds much too prissy, and I'll not have my students think I'm going soft." She stared critically at him, waiting for a heated response. None came. "Please continue, Minister," she urged, when it seemed he'd given up on speaking completely.
Gill harrumphed loudly. "My point, Headmaster," he said, shoving as much venom into the title as he could, which really did nothing more for the word than make it nearly inaudible, "is that these children will have to be taught."
"Canada –"
"Won't hear of it. They've stopped talking with us on the subject entirely."
"Durmstrang and Beauxbatons –"
"I'm afraid the language barriers won't allow that, either."
Miranda chewed her bottom lip, mulling this over. She couldn't refuse – she thought that as though she had a choice in the matter: that alone was laughable – but she couldn't see it turning out well. Many of the students had their reservations about muggle-born wizards; she heard the term 'mudblood' thrown around more often than she'd like. She couldn't imagine what they'd think of American muggle-borns. With the increasing number of Squibs lately, and the sudden appearance of Wizards across the Atlantic, it wouldn't be long before the Prophet decided that the Americans were using Dark Magic to take over the wizarding world. She sighed. That was just the sort of foolishness that the Daily Prophet was famed for, and the poor children would take the brunt of the inane controversies such an article would cause.
"Yes, of course, they'll be coming here." She scribbled angrily on the paper in front of her, trying not to let her annoyance show on her face. "When should I expect them? This year? Next?"
"Erm..." Miranda looked up to see the Minister shuffling his feet, idly looking the other way.
"Spill it, man. I've no time for this," she snapped.
"Save extenuating circumstances, they shouldn't be here for another decade," Gill explained, putting on his best politician's face like he did when he was worried. Miranda nearly fell from her chair.
"One? These children are one?" she shouted incredulously. All graces were forgotten, shoved away by surprise. "Even pureblooded children don't start showing signs until they're two or three! Lately it's been five. And you're telling me these kids have drawn the ministry's attention at one year old?" The Ministry didn't take an interest in muggle-born witches and wizards until they turned eleven unless they did something extraordinary. For them to notice all fifteen... "Bloody hell, Michael, we should be training them now!"
He smiled weakly at her. "I'm afraid I've been overruled on this one, Miranda."
She sniffed disdainfully. "You're the Minister. Overrule them back."
"If only I could, Headmis— Headmaster. You have work to do," he said, glancing at her pile of scrolls. "I'll leave you to it." With that he swept out the door, leaving her alone in her all-too-quiet office with all-too-many things to think about.
She waited until she couldn't hear his footsteps anymore before slamming her head against her desk, reciting every swear word she knew – and a few she'd made up – until she felt better. The Headmaster was there for a very, very long time...
Hooray for prologues! 8D Chapter one proper will be up in a day or two. No promises on chapter two -- I'm easily distracted. Constructive criticism is my one true love. Just in case you were wondering.