A/N: a little idea I had floating around my head. What if a child raised in the muggle witchcraft tradition was asked to go to Hogwarts? Information is based on my studies of the tradition and are not meant to be derisive in any way. Please PM me if you have any suggestions or corrections.

At 4:54, Lisa's alarm clock went off with a shrill ring, until her little hand clamped down. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she padded down the short hallway to her mother's room and climbed on the bed.

"Mum, Mum, wake up!" She rocked her mother's shoulder impatiently. Celestia Rose Turpin, once Sally, mumbled something incoherent into her pillow and rolled over. Lisa shook her shoulder even harder- one eye on the clock over the bathroom door.

"Mum. You promised. You promised that you would help guide me in the ritual to greet the sun every morning from Bealtaine to Samhain. You promised." By now, the waking of Celestia was almost as much a ritual as greeting the sun. Lisa eyed the topped wine glass on the dresser, noting that once again the carpet had been stained. Once, the carpet had been white. But, like most things in their small home, it had faded to a dingy grey- enlivened only by drippings of wax, spills of wine, and small burns from toppled incense.

"And thrice cursed upon that promise," Celestia muttered into her pillow. Lisa, having completed her part of the ritual, hopped off the bed and began to gather up the toppled wine glass and plates around the room.

"Are you a high priestess or not?" She teased, heading towards the door. "The sun is up in 10 minutes. I'll set up the alter."

She headed down the hall to the kitchenette where she unceremoniously dumped the dishes in the battered sink, content to ignore them for the rest of the day. Already, the sky was paling in the east and Lisa closed her eyes, allowing the pre-dawn vibrations to resonate in her soul. She still couldn't feel much, but her training as a witch was only beginning.

First, she would have to become atune to the natural rhythms of the earth and sky. Only after her soul sung in time to the dance of the stars, the cycle of the seasons, would her mother begin to take her to the sacred places of Britain to be introduced to the guardians of those circles and glades. They had begun to plan the trip out after her 13th birthday. She had only just turned 11, but already she was making lists of what to see and deciding how much they should be saving each month.

"Oh, it will be a beautiful day!" Celestia strode into the room, robe not fully tied, and raised her arms towards the sun. For a moment, her face relaxed into blissful contemplation and Lisa's heart rose in her chest.

"Will it?" She asked, "Did you have a dream?"

"Time for Dream Discussion later," her mother replied and crossed over to the alter. They stood and then, following her mother's lead, they raised their hands to the lightening horizon.

Oh sun

Giver of life, giver of light

We greet you

We greet you with open eyes

That revel in your beauty

We greet you with open hands

That honor all you touch

We greet you with open hearts

That cherish all your gifts

Guide our paths this day

Oh bringer of fire, light, and comfort

We thank you

Oh sun

Sometimes, Celestia would be inspired and greet the sun with song and long poetry to it's beauty. Sometimes she would take Lisa's hands and they would dance or stretch in the early morning light. Today, however, she fell silent, arms still outstretched, and Lisa closed her eyes to meditate on the gifts that the sun brought.

Today would be a good day, she decided. Today she was going to clean the house and then do some weeding in the yard. Then, she would ask her mother to do a tarot reading for her upcoming month. Then she would-

"Oh Lisa!"

Lisa's eyes opened and she was momentarily blinded by the sliver of gold over the horizon. But she quickly saw what her mother was pointing at. A large owl sat in the tree outside their house and seemed to be staring at them. Celestia, possibly still a little tipsy- Lisa didn't know when she returned home last night or opened the bottle of wine, was transported.

"Oh Lisa, what a good sign for the day. To greet the sun and to be greeted by an owl- the guardian of Athena, the keeper of secrets, who flies on silent wings and delivers death. I have to go look this up. What it might mean for the day. To have it be only a month- yes a month to the day- since Bealtaine."

Her mother ran back to her room still talking excitedly to herself. Lisa spared the owl another look. It blinked at her. She blinked back and decided that today was a good day indeed. But it was time to start breakfast.

All through breakfast and all through the clean up of breakfast, her mother sat glued to her books at the table, happily reading aloud what such a sign might mean. Lisa was happy to listen and absorb the information. She could, and did, read the books herself, but it gave her mother such pleasure to teach. That was why her mother was one of the primary teachers for the new initiates to their tradition.

"Oh Lisa, do you think it is a barn owl? Do we still have that book of bird watching or did John take that too when he- oh, I don't remember, but listen to this-"

Lisa dried the last plate and put it away. Good. The kitchen was clean. That was one thing off her list of chores and all before the mail came! The sound of said mail thunking against the welcome mat made her smile. Still listening to her mother rattle on about owl myths and superstitious, she collected the mail from the front door.

Bills. Bills. Two letters from Germany- some of mum's penpals no doubts. A catalogue, even though her mother considered them to be such a waste of paper and repeatedly wrote to be taken off the mailing list.

And then a letter. Thick, creamy parchment, sealed in a wax seal she didn't recognize. But, more interestingly, addressed to her.

"Lisa, is that-" Her mother's voice rang out- sharp and frantic. The letter was torn from her hands and her mother flipped it over to read the handwriting on the front, her shoulders tight around her ears. Her face a mask of desperate hope.

When she saw who it was addressed to, the disappointment was palpable. A third specter in the room that haunted the two of them no matter how much sage Lisa burned or how many mothballs she put in the corners of the house.

"He-" Her mother's voice had gone very thick, "He would sometimes send letters. On that parchment. Just to say hello and check on me. I thought-" Her voice cracked and Lisa suddenly realized that today would not be a good day after all as the letter slipped from her mother's fingers and hit the floor.

"Maybe he wrote to me?" Lisa asked brightly, stooping to pick the letter up. "Maybe he-"

It was too late. Her mother's eyes had already gone dark with grief and anger.

"You?" She snarled, swiping a hand towards her daughter, "He never knew you. He barely knew of you. The day I told him is the day he left and NEVER. CAME. BACK!" A lamp shattered behind them and Lisa suddenly was afraid. It had been months since the last episode. Months since her prayers had been answered, since her small sacrifice had been accepted by the earth.

She Pushed out gently and her mother's eyes clouded and her mask of rage slackened. Lisa took a deep breath, feeling the trembling starting in her stomach that always came from using her divine gifts.

"I think you're tired, mum." She told her, "I think you want to go back to your room and have a lie down."

"I'm sorry, I think I'm tired, Lisa," Her mother told her in a soft, detached voice, "I'm going to go for a bit of lie down." She turned and shuffled back to her room, not bothering to close the door behind her. When Lisa heard the mattress springs squeak, she let out a breath and looked at the letter in her hand. Quietly, she went to the kitchen and took out a knife. Opened the letter carefully and read.