A/N: I know it's been ages, but here's an update!


"But I can't do magic," she repeated, and Grandma nodded. "Then... why tell me?"

Her wrinkles seemed to deepen and increase as a wide smile stretched across her face. "Because you can change that."

Bee stared at her in utter astonishment. "I can?"

Before Grandma could answer, the door opened, and Mom reappeared. Her mouth was set in a hard line, and her eyebrows pulled together. "No," she said, addressing the older woman. "It's not going to happen. I've tried too hard for too many years to put that behind me, and I won't let you just waltz in here and ruin all that effort."

"What makes you think I'll listen to you?" Bee snapped, shooting to her feet.

"Blythe," Grandma scolded.

"You lied to me for seventeen years!" she went on, ignoring her. "You intentionally kept it from me! To be quite honest, I don't give a damn what you think!" Mom tried to interrupt, but Bee shook her head. "No, Mom! This is my decision! Not yours, not Grandma's, not anyone else's! Mine!"

There was a prolonged silence following her tirade. Bee's chest heaved with each breath, and the other two women stared at her, shocked by her outburst. Finally, Mom sighed, her expression reflecting defeat. "All right," she whispered.

Bee nodded tersely, then sat down again, turning to Grandma. "So how can I change it? How can I do magic? Is it like Kwikspell?"

"That is one possibility, but it's not entirely reliable. There are two far more effective remedies available."

"Like what?"

"Well," Grandma began, "first of all, and the most effective option, is a spell. Only trained wizards within the Ministry may perform it, and you must obtain permission from the Minister himself, and pay a rather substantial registration fee. Two hundred galleons!" she exclaimed.

Bee grimaced. "That's a lot of money."

"Quite. Which is why most people opt for the second remedy: a potion. Extremely difficult to make, and dangerous when made incorrectly, but far less expensive. You are still required to register, but the fee is far less—only fifty galleons, seventy-five if you purchase a pre-brewed potion from the Ministry."

"So... what does the potion do?"

"Both the spell and the potion perform the same task: they repair the damaged magical core." At Bee's blank look, she went on, "If a person is magical, they have what's called a magical core, sort of the essence of their magical abilities. A Squib still has that core, but it has been damaged by some means or another. Most often, it's a sort of birth defect, an inherited trait. Your father was a Squib, also," she said, her voice filled with sympathy.

Terrence Elliot had been a very restless man. Though he was always devoted to his wife and children, he had trouble staying in one place for long. All Bee remembered of him was that he was constantly traveling, home only for weeks at a time, usually on birthdays and holidays. That was one good thing about him. He never missed a birthday, hers or Julie's. Until the accident...

It was three days before Bee's eleventh birthday when her mother had gotten the phone call. He'd been out late at night, and a drunk driver had run through a red light, ramming into her father's car on the driver's side. He was killed instantly. She remembered the funeral; it had been closed-casket, no viewing for family or friends. Mom had given a short eulogy, then her paternal grandparents had spoken. Then, a song was performed, just before they drove the hearse to the cemetery, where his body was lowered into the ground.

Bee hadn't been back to that cemetery since.

"Are you all right, dear?" Grandma asked.

Shaking her head, she forced a smile. "Fine, Grandma. What were you saying?"

"I wasn't, but would you like me to continue?" She nodded. "Right, then. It was just a few decades ago—around 1988—when some Ministry researcher had the idea that, perhaps, the core could be repaired. He developed both the spell and the potion, knowing that each person had their preferences. Since then, more than six thousand Squibs have gained the magical abilities they were originally denied."

"That's amazing," Bee grinned.

Grandma returned her smile for a moment, then turned serious. "Now, Blythe... I took the liberty, many years ago, of earning the Minister's permission for yourself, and your sister, should she desire, to register and take the required potion. I'm afraid I haven't the money for the spell, or I would have taken that route. As it is, the potion is very nearly equal in effectiveness."

Frowning, she asked, "Nearly equal?"

"Some new witches and wizards have complained about a certain lack of power to their spells, and a lack of instinct. Not all, mind you. I believe it depends on how much damage there is. The reason the spell is more effective is that it repairs even very severe, while the potion can only go so far."

"Do you think my damage is more severe?"

"There is a way to find out," she smiled. "Would you like to know?"

Nodding eagerly, Bee watched as Grandma pulled a sleek, thin piece of wood—a wand!—from within her shawl. Where on earth was she hiding that? Muttering an incantation that she didn't recognize, the elderly woman pointed her wand at Bee, and a soft, bluish light emanated from the end. The light reached out, encompassing Bee for a moment, then slid back into the wand, before disappearing altogether. Bee was almost afraid to look at her grandmother, but when she did, she found an even wider smile on her face. She brightened. "Is that good?"

"You, my dear," Grandma said, "will be just fine."

She beamed. "Then I can be a witch?"

"I think you'll be an excellent witch, Blythe."

Bee whooped, shooting across the sofa to hug the woman who had just changed her life. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she chanted, then went to hug her mother. She stopped, however, upon seeing the look on her face. "Mom?"

Unshed tears hovered in her eyes, and she met Bee's eyes slowly. "You really want to do this?" she asked softly.

Part of her previous anger flashed, but Bee smothered it, reminding herself that this must be hard for her mother. "Yes," she said definitively. "I really do."

Sighing, Mom rose from her chair. "Then I guess there's nothing I can say to change your mind." Smiling sadly, she enfolded Bee in a hug.

Bee frowned, confused by her actions. "Mom, what's wrong?"

"Blythe," Grandma's voice caught her attention. Gone was the twinkling smile, now replaced with a very somber expression. "You have one more decision to make. In order to give you the potion, you must register with the Ministry of Magic. There are several Ministries, stationed in various places around the world. But if you wish to attend Hogwarts, even if it's only for one year, you must register in London... and we would have to leave tonight."

Suddenly, she understood. Her mother was saying goodbye. Bee's heart throbbed with sadness, and she returned the embrace. Part of her wondered if she should go after all. But, she reasoned, what good would having the ability to perform magic be, if she didn't have the knowledge required to do so?

As if reading her thoughts, Grandma spoke up, "You've read the books, Blythe. I'm absolutely certain that you have almost as good an education on the magical arts as anyone else."

Stepping away from Mom, she asked, "But there are things that the characters didn't learn, because they didn't attend their last year. I mean... they learned things on their own, eventually... but it wouldn't be quite the same." Bee glanced at Mom, then turned her eyes back to her grandmother. "I want to go."

"Then pack your things, dear," she smiled. "We leave at sundown."


It didn't take long to gather her belongings together. Fueled by her enthusiasm and apprehension, she didn't bother to fold her clothes, or place them neatly inside her suitcase. She just tossed them in any old way and smashed them down so that she could get the suitcase closed. In her carry-on bag, she packed a few of her treasured belongings, including her two favorite Harry Potter books (The Prisoner of Azkaban, and The Order of the Phoenix).

The sky was splashed with hues of orange and red as she made her way downstairs to embark on this new adventure. Against the fading light, she could just make out Artemis' silhouette. She'd instructed the owl to go on ahead, and she'd see her on the "other side of the pond."

Grandma insisted that they travel the Muggle way, since Bee still was not an official witch. So, Mom drove them to the airport, walking them to security. Julie, too, had come to say goodbye (eagerly), though she thought Bee was just going to a private school in London. Bee didn't find herself nearly as annoyed with her sister, knowing that in just a few months, she would be turning eleven, and she would get the truth from Grandma, as well. She couldn't say whether or not Julie would want anything to do with magic, but either way, she was glad she would soon know the truth.

"Be safe," Mom pleaded, giving her one last hug.

"Don't worry, Mom," Bee laughed. "What's the worst that could happen?"

She gave her a skeptical look. "What about everything that happened to Harry and his friends in the books?"

"That wasn't real," she insisted, even though the truth of that still tied her stomach into knots. "They didn't actually have to do all that. Their real lives were a lot safer."

"Well... just promise me you'll be careful. Don't go looking for trouble."

"I promise," Bee grinned.

They waved as they stepped through security, through the terminal, and onto the plane. Grandma spent most of the time babbling on about how fascinating it all was, proclaiming that she would have to use Muggle methods of travel more often. Bee just rolled her eyes, steeling herself for what lay ahead.

She was going to Hogwarts. Really going to Hogwarts, not just via book, movie, or in the depths of her own imagination. She was physically going to walk those halls, see that very castle.

And she couldn't wait.


A/N: What do you think? Share your thoughts! :D