Angelica had the feeling this wouldn't be a good month - it would be a great month.
And it was. Miss Trudoe finally got Angelica to start calling her Prue ("It's not school here, kiddo . . . " "I know that! . . . Miss Prue?" "No.")
The last days came all too quickly. Angelica didn't want to leave, and she thought - hoped? - that Prue didn't want her to, either. But maybe she was just reading too much into things. One morning, at breakfast, the day before she was due to leave, Angelica was beyond surprised when her hostess handed her a thick, yellow-toned envelope.
"Is this for me?" she asked in confusion, taking the letter from the other witch. Prue nodded.
"You're the only Miss A. Potter, here, kiddo. Unless that's my name . . . "
"No, it's mine!" Angelica cried, clutching the letter to her chest. She'd never gotten a letter before. She didn't want to give it up.
Actually, she was afraid to open it, now that she thought of it. What if it was hate mail, like she got instead of Valentines in class every year? That would be a terrible first-ever letter . . . She glanced at the address.
Miss A. PotterThe Guest Bedroom7571 Nasturtium BoulevardLittle Whinging, Surrey
Biting her lip in trepidation, Angelica hesitantly pried open the envelope, doing her best to keep the seal intact, and slid out two thick pieces of paper - they felt weird, not like regular paper, or even the linen paper in her Book of Shadows - and read the heading.
'HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY' she read. Then she read it again. And once more, just to make certain she wasn't seeing things. She looked up at Prue. "Is this real?" she asked. The woman quirked an eyebrow and moved around the table to read the letter over Angelica's shoulder.
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she murmured. "I didn't know there were schools for magic," she said turning her head toward Angelica. "I never encountered one with my sisters, though they may have, by now . . . " she shook her head and muttered, "Damn Elders."
Angelica nodded, and they both turned back to the letter.
HOGWARTS SCHOOLof WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc.,
Chf. Warlock, SupremeMugwump,
International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Miss Potter
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 September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
"That's not a very good letter," Angelica stated, eying the paper dubiously.
Prue nodded in agreement. "No, it's not. What if you didn't know about magic?"
"And where am I supposed to get a trained owl?"
Prue shook her head. "No idea, kiddo. But . . . "
"But?" Angelica asked, hopeful.
Prue smiled at her. "We could always scry for it. Then I could astral project there and ask them a few questions for you."
Angelica pumped her fists in the air. "Brilliant! Let's go!" she exclaimed, and hopped up, ready to run up the stairs and find a map. She didn't get that far. Prue grabbed her by the collar and sat her down again first.
"Eat, kid. You need the nutrients."
Angelica pouted. "Yes, Ma'am."
"And don't call me 'Ma'am.'"
"Yes, Prue."
Then finally breakfast was finished, and the dishes were washed and put away. Then Prue let Angelica run up the stairs and grab a map and the scrying crystal. They spread it out over the round kitchen table, and wrapped it around the now-rolled-up letter.
The crystal landed on a lake in the middle of the Scottish Highlands. The two witches exchanged glances. Prue shrugged. "Let's hope it's not under water. Back in a few."
And then her body slumped in her chair, and Angelica stood a little nervously, making sure her teacher would roll over onto her face on the hard kitchen floor.
The shores of the Black Lake were beautiful, Prue admitted silently to herself. The forest nearby was rather imposing and dark, and there was a large, absolutely fantastic castle, right out of a fantasy, perched on a low cliff, proudly facing the east. Now where was everyone?
"'Scuse me, miss, what ya doin' here?"
Prue jumped and turned around, ready to send whoever spoke flying. The speaker in question was a large, wild-looking man with a monster of a moleskin coat. A sleepy-eyed dog stood lazily beside him, completing the picture.
Prue straightened and set her shoulders back. "My name's Prue Trudoe, I'm here on behalf of my charge. She got an odd letter in the mail. This is Hogwarts, right?"
The man looked absolutely bewildered, though by her American accent or the fact that she was there, Prue wasn't quite sure.
"Ya mean ya never heard o' Hogwarts?" the man exclaimed.
Ah. Well, that answered that question. Prue crossed her arms, a tad impatiently. "No. I haven't. Who do I talk to about admissions?"
"Ad-what?"
Prue sighed. "Who's in charge?"
"Why, Dumbledore, o' course."
"Could you please take me to him?"
"Why sure, he's right in his office . . . " the man trailed off, and started walking toward the castle. Prue followed.
Soon they were in front of a large stone gargoyle, where the large man - Hagrid, he'd said his name was - cleared his throat and said, as if it were perfectly normal to say to a statue, "Jelly Slugs."
What the hell was a Jelly Slug?
And then to Prue's shock, the gargoyle moved aside, and Hagrid motioned for her to stand on the circular, moving steps that had been hidden behind it.
It was a freaking magical escalator. In a castle. It was . . . A little bit awesome.
Hagrid got on behind her, and after a moment they were in front of a dark wooden door with a big round knocker in the middle. There was a simple gold plaque stating 'Headmaster' on it at about eye-level. Prue knocked.
"Come in," came an aged voice from behind the door. Prue did so, Hagrid still following, and Prue blinked when she saw the most fascinating office she'd likely ever laid eyes on. It was large, round, with many windows and portraits entirely covering the walls, so it was impossible to tell what colour the wallpaper was. There were spindly tables all over the place, holding delicate silver instruments, only some of which Prue recognised from the Halliwell Book of Shadows and Leo's ramblings years before. There was a large, ornate perch, holding what looked like a beautiful gold-and-red swan. At the end of the room, there was a rectangular indent, with two tall windows on either side of a large, empty portrait, in front of which was an oversized wood desk, with a throne-like chair behind it and a few chintz armchairs circled in the front.
"Thank you for delivering our guest Hagrid, please, don't let us keep you from your work."
Prue turned to face . . . Father Time? It certainly seemed so: the man in front of her was tall, thin, with a long loose white beard and hair to match, wearing dark purple velvet robes and a pointed hat. He wore half-moon spectacles that were in danger of falling off his crooked nose.
Hagrid left, and the man - Headmaster Dumbledore, apparently - smiled genially at her. "I take it you have business with me, Miss . . . ?"
"Trudoe," Prue stated. "Prue Trudoe."
Dumbledore inclined his head toward her. "Miss Trudoe. If I may, ask what has brought you here to my school?"
Prue shook back her hair defensively. "I was watching one of the kids in my neighbourhood overnight and she got a letter in the mail from your school, inviting her to come. Neither of us have ever heard of Hogwarts before, and the letter didn't say anything about it."
Dumbledore looked surprised. "I was under the impression that American schools mentioned foreign institutions in the history classes, as Hogwarts does."
Prue shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I never went to one. I'm not a wizard."
"Witch," Dumbledore corrected.
"Previously," Prue admitted.
Dumbledore looked slightly confused. "I beg your pardon?"
"I died," Prue said bluntly. "Now I'm a Whitelighter, and my charge isn't attending your school without knowing at least something about it. We had to scry to even know where it was."
Dumbledore blinked very rapidly. "My apologies," he said blankly, "but you're dead? And not magical?"
Prue blinked in surprise, then groaned softly. He had no clue. What kind of magic school was this? She sat down in one of the armchairs and began explaining. Whitelighters, witches, demons, warlocks, all of that. Dumbledore looked a bit dazed at the end of her rant.
"Any more questions?" Prue asked, ignoring the Elders beginning to jingle her.
"Yes, I'd like to enquire the name of your charge?"
Prue smiled slightly at the thought of Angelica. "Angelica Potter." She bit the inside of her cheek and looked up at the ceiling. The jingling, what was with the noisy jingling? She glowered upward. "Look," she told Dumbledore, "I gotta go, Elders are calling me. I'll be back."
And she orbed out, never seeing the look of absolute, pure shock on the Headmaster's face.
His lemon drop even fell out and stuck to his beard.
The Elders were unhappy. They didn't want wizards to know about witchcraft, apparently. Prue rolled her eyes and snorted at them. They probably shouldn't have given her a wizard-witch as a charge then, huh? She told them as much. Then came the second rant on responsibility.
"Fine," she finally said. "I'll bind him to keep his mouth shut."
Then she orbed back out again.
Dumbledore was ready and waiting, a quill in hand, poised over a roll of parchment. He peppered her with questions. Prue sat back and waited for him to finish.
"Secrecy, needed be," she intoned, staring hard at him,
"That witchcraft's not revealed by thee.
Thus your lips shall never tell,
That witchcraft is alive and well."
Dumbledore stared at her in confusion when a cool feeling settled on him, almost nonexistent as it settled over his head and across his mouth. "I beg your pardon?"
Prue shrugged. "The Elders want our magic kept a secret. Thus, either I cast a spell binding you from playing tattle-tale, or you get your memory erased. So I made you shut up. Now then, tell me about Hogwarts," she said, leaning forward. "What classes are there? What are the teachers like? Is it a day school or a boarding school? If the latter, where do the students sleep? Do they go home on weekends? When are their breaks? How long is a school day? What do you teach? How big are the classes? How many kids go here? What's your bullying policy?"
It was another two hours before Prue got back to Nasturtium Boulevard, after Dumbledore insisted she take a tour of the school and let her in on the whole 'Girl-Who-Lived' thing surrounding Angelica. There was also the matter of her explaining that no, the Dursleys were not dead, much though some people may wish them to be. She was just watching Angelica until they got back from their vacation in Germany.
Angelica's worried face was hovering over her when she returned to her body. "What happened?" the ten-year-old asked worriedly when her eyes opened.
Prue told her.
