The next morning, she stretched and made her way down to breakfast. The smell of pancakes and sausage beckoned to her, pulling her forward with their scent.

"What does that even mean?" her mother whispered over the sizzling of the meat in the pan.

"You're asking me?" her father responded in the same hushed and secretive tone. "I don't know what any of this means! And who is this Minerva McGonagall?"

"Ha! That one sounds relatively normal when you try to pronounce the other name! What kind of a name is Albus Dumbledore?"

"Who's Amos Dumbadare?" she asked, making both her parents jump.

"It's nothing Liddy, now come eat your breakfast." He mother said, laying out a plate of food for her beside her father. She'd never had reason to mistrust her parents, but every anxious glance between them caused her more and more suspicion.

Sitting down, she reached for the syrup and caught a glance at the envelope trapped under her father's plate. In raised green ink, it read: Ms. L Rhodes, 3 Privet Drive, Little Whingning, Surrey.

"I got a letter?"

"It's nothing Liddy, really." He handed her the butter.

"But it's addressed to me. It could be from Sandra."

"It's not honey."

"How do you know that?"

Just as her father was about to speak, there came a tapping at the door. Her parents gave each other yet another look and that was what decided it for her. Standing quickly, she hopped up to answer the door before either of the conspirators could stop her.

Opening the door wide, the sunlight poured in around the older woman. Her hair was pulled up in a very orderly bun. She wore an emerald dress with long sleeves, roomy enough to hold a terrier, rectangular glasses to frame her kind eyes, and a smile to match.

"Hello. Is this the residence of Lydia Heather Rhodes?" Lydia nodded slowly at the use of her full name.

"Am I in trouble or something?"

As the lady's smile broadened in amusement, the skin around her eyes crinkled slightly. "Not at all. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. I trust you received the letter informing you of my visit?"

Her mother shuffled nervously, which only made the woman that much more interesting.

"What letter?" Although she was looking at Professor McGonagall, her eyes wandered over to her parents. After a moment of awkward silence, her father spoke up.

"So this is real? What that letter said isn't just some sort of prank?"

"Goodness, no. May I come in? This would be much easier to explain with both of you sitting down and comfortable."

"Come on in!" Lydia lead her over to the sitting room, sitting her in the squishy leather chair. She wanted answers and darn it, she was going to get them!

McGonagall motioned for her and her parents to sit on the couch for this important news. Lydia plopped down right in the middle. "So what's going on?" she asked, not wanting to wait for her parents.

"Lydia, has anything strange ever happened to you? Something you couldn't explain?"

After thinking for a moment with her nearly invisible blonde eyebrows furrowed, she came up with a memory. "Well, I remember one time I made my bunny disappear-"

"Just stop it!" her father shouted. "Liddy, go to your room. The adults need to talk."

"No." she said so quietly that her mother had to strain to hear her.

"Lydia, go to your room. Now dear."

"No" she repeated in quiet defiance.

"I apologize sincerely for how this must seem to you," McGonagall stepped in," but your daughter has every right to know about what she can do. Unless you'd like to treat this like we live in the times of the Salem trials, I ask that you trust me to guide your daughter. If she doesn't learn to control her magic, it could run rampant and do serious damage. Not just physically, but she would reveal magic to the muggle world. She is a rare gift. She has magic running through her in a non-magical family."

The discussion went on for another hour or so, but eventually, Lydia ended up outside with one hand on her suitcase and the other in McGonagall's.

"There are a couple more stops to make before we go to Hogwarts, just so you know."

"Where are we going now? And how are we going to get there?" she asked, not seeing an unfamiliar car in sight.

"You'll see. Just hold onto me and your belongings tightly. Oh, and you may want to close your eyes."

She did as her mentor suggested, holding on tightly with her eyes shut. Next, she heard a loud crack and felt as though she'd been lifted and set down once again.

"You can open them now." McGonagall said softly.

Feeling a little bit dizzy, she opened her eyes to find herself in a completely different location. It was colder here and everything seemed a little less colorful, but seemed pleasant in its own right.