A/N: Updated on 17/08/2016. Fixed errors and typos and general flow of the story.

Chapter 1

The only wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.

- Socrates

It started with a box.

Rowan Miller was up in the attic, sorting through years worth of boxes and bags of random objects. Her mission was to find all of her most essential clothes and things to take with her to her uni dorms. That's when she came across a dusty box, one she hadn't noticed before. She wiped away the dust saw writing. It said, "Richard's, Do Not Open," in big, bold letters.

The text caused a little twinge of sorrow in her chest at the reminder of her father. Richard Miller had passed away almost two years ago. He'd been ill for years now, so his death didn't come as a surprise to his family, but it still hurt.

He hadn't been a secretive man, which is why the existence of the mysterious box came as somewhat of a surprise to his daughter. Rowan was curious to see what was inside. She was sure her dad wouldn't have minded.

The belongings inside the box made her eyebrows rise to her hairline. Rowan knew her dad had been a big Harry Potter fan straight from the start, but a box full of Harry Potter movie props felt like a weird thing to store in the attic. She took out a large piece of clothing that was clearly a robe and tried it on. It was a bit large on her small frame, but didn't drag on the floor. Next there was a pair of leather boots that looked to be made from genuine leather. And weirdly fit her like a glove. She even found a wand in the robe pocket and waved it around, letting out a laugh at the silliness of the situation.

Something shiny caught Rowan's eye on the bottom of the box, and she reached for it. It was a beautiful charms bracelet. She put it on and admired it for a while, before crouching down to look at the rest of the box.

There was a set of vials, like something straight out of Hogwarts potions class. Next was a small stack of worn out books with strange titles. She grabbed the topmost one, which proved to be a journal of some sorts, full of smudged writing in black ink. She browsed the contents until a page with only five large words jumped out to her.

The words seemed so absurd on the otherwise empty page that she read them out loud.

"The password is Diagon Alley."

Her world disappeared in a blurry vortex of colours and sounds, and she felt violently sick. When the feeling stopped and she she landed on her knees, she lost her breakfast on the cold stone floor and promptly passed out.

She woke up to lying on a bed, with someone looking dubiously like a younger version Albus Dumbledore watching her.

"Hello," she said, blinking at his colourful outfit. It was an odd mix off purple and orange.

"Good morning," he said, eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles. "It seems like you've recovered from your portkey incident. I am afraid you gave Madam Pomfrey quite a fright, appearing in the hospital wing like that."

"Uhhhh," she continued. Or tried to. She couldn't stop staring.

"Despite your age, I don't seem to recall seeing you at Hogwarts before," the young Dumbledore look-a-like said. Well, she said young, but he was obviously old enough to be her grandfather. His hair has strands of silver in it, but she could still tell the original colour had been auburn.

"Say what?"

The old man rubbed is beard thoughtfully. "I wonder if you are quite all right after all?"

"Wait, backtrack a bit..." Rowan said. "Who are you, where am I, and what the hell are you wearing?"

"Why, I am Albus Dumbledore, you're in Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Dumbledore said. "And I happen to be wearing my sunday robes," he continued, raising his eyebrows at her rather accusing tone.

"Yeah, right, and I'm Harry Potter," she said, crossing her arms.

"You're related to the Potters?" he asked, frowning. "I wasn't aware they had any female heirs."

"Wait, what?" she asked, her eyes widening at his wondering tone. "Are you being serious right now?"

Dumbledore, who perhaps really was Dumbledore, raised his eyebrows again. "My dear, I am only trying to find out your name, I see nothing worth joking about it."

"Shit," Rowan said and rubbed her forehead. She could feel a headache slowly building up. "This is really happening."

"I'm afraid it is, whatever you mean," Dumbledore said and handed her a glass of water, his face kind. "Now, would you mind revealing your name to me, so we can contact your family?"

"Rowan Miller," she said. "But I think you're gonna have a spot of trouble with that."

Dumbledore cocked his head. "And why is that?"

"Well, I'm not actually from... here. I was preparing to move to my new flat when I came across my dad's stuff on the attic. I found this robe up there," she said and motioned to the clothes she was wearing. "Then I found this bracelet and put it on, and came across a journal. There was a password and I read it out loud, and the next thing I know, I woke up here."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.

"That does seem like quite a dilemma," he said. "May I ask what your father's name was?"

"Richard Miller."

Dumbledore sat back on his chair and closed his eyes, sighing deeply. "Ah."

Rowan narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"Your father was a well known potions master and a charms researcher. I believe his last work had something to do with portkeys and dimensional travel. That was before he disappeared."

She stared at Dumbledore, who had just admitted to knowing her father. Her father, who had in fact been a wizard.

"That's...crazy," she said.

"I gather from your reaction and arrival that he did in fact succeed in his work?" the headmaster asked. "I think our resident charms professor would be delighted to meet you and hear more about his work."

Rowan couldn't believe it. In fact...

"I thought wizards don't catch muggle diseases," she said, frowning. "My dad died of cancer."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose towards his hairline. "That is, in fact, correct," he said and pushed his spectacles up his nose. "However, it is a possibility that a number of things, including diseases, work differently in your home dimension."

Rowan looked down. So her dad had travelled to her dimension, and gotten cancer because of it. Could he have saved himself by returning home...? She didn't know. She was aware that her mother had met Richard and they had gotten together very quickly after that. In fact, her grandparents had been scandalized by the whole affair. His father hadn't been young by any means. Maybe he had chosen to stay, despite the fact that he was dying.

"I apologize for interrupting your thoughts," Dumbledore said. "But how did you know that fact about wizards and illnesses? I thought from your reaction you did not know of magic before this."

Rowan panicked. She couldn't tell him of the books. It would sound unbelievable. Not to mention she had no idea if her knowledge was accurate at all, or what point in the time line she had arrived at. Sure, Dumbledore was real, as was Hogwarts but what if the similarities ended there? She would rather keep her knowledge to herself, for the time being.

She came to a decision.

"Uh, I read about it, actually," she lied, avoiding his eyes by staring at the center of his nose. "My dad kept a journal of sorts, and I found it once when I was little. He explained it was a novel he was working on and told me lots of stories. We even made a sort of game out of it. He would tell me about wizards and witches, and we would even have mock battles with spells and stuff." It wasn't entirely false. They had played wizards and witches together more times than she could count.

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "That certainly explains it."

"What am I going to do now?" she asked. She frowned down at the portkey on her wrist. "Should I just try saying the password again?"

"I would not recommend it," Dumbledore said. "Such magic is rarely stable or predictable. If you would let me, I would prefer to take a look at it... Of course, I will also consult Professor Flitwick on this matter. He is our charms professor, who I believe I mentioned."

Rowan bit her lip. She didn't feel like giving it away, since it was her only way of returning home. But... if Dumbledore thought using it might be dangerous, who was she to argue?

"Okay," she said and took the blasted thing off her wrist. She handed it over. "Just don't lose it, okay?"

He took it. "I will treat it with utmost care," Dumbledore promised, and put it in his robe pocket.

"What now?" Rowan asked. "What am I going to do?"

"If you want to, you could attend Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling with humour.

Her jaw dropped. "I'm a witch!?"