Mum and Dad were standing behind me, Dad put a protective hand on my shoulder, pulling me behind him.
"Ah, Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger," the strange woman said with a congenial smile. She held out her hand to my parents and they accepted her handshake cautiously.
"My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall. I'm an instructor at a private academy in Scotland. I'm very sorry to intrude upon Hermione's birthday celebration, but I was hoping I might have a word with you about her education."
My parents looked at each other, down at me and back at the petite woman at our front door. Dad spoke first, still holding himself in between me and our unexpected visitor.
"Well Professor…erm…" he stumbled.
"McGonagall." The woman offered with a slight smile.
"We were heading out for a late lunch and some ice cream…" Mum said.
"Please join us, Professor." I said softly. I was so incredibly curious to hear about this new school. Professor McGonagall smiled again. Her stern expression had softened further and she looked down at me.
"I'd be delighted to but I'm a bit pressed for time. I have several more stops to make this evening; students in London, Somerset, Manchester, Bristol – so many students celebrating a birthday today."
My parents puzzled again. By that point, I think all three of us noticed there wasn't a car parked in front of our house. We were all wondering how the devil this strange woman got to our home in Cambridge and how she ever expected to get to all of those other places she mentioned in one night. It was more than several hours drive to each of them.
"Excuse me, Professor but how did you know it was my birthday?" I finally asked. She chuckled and held a hand out to me.
"If I might have a few minutes of your time, I could explain it all." She said.
Reluctantly, my mother stepped aside and let Professor McGonagall step inside.
"Could I bring you anything, Professor? Tea? Biscuits? Meringues?" Mum offered, sounding nervous.
"Thank you, Mrs. Granger. That sounds lovely. May I sit?" She asked. My father gestured towards an armchair and she sat, her back properly straight and crossed her ankles. Her wrinkled hands came to rest in her lap, folded neatly.
I sat across from her, quietly studying her.
"So what were saying about your school, Professor?" Dad started, lifting his ankle to cross it across his opposite knee. He leaned back in his recliner and folded his hands over his stomach. Mum brought in a tray for the Professor and she smiled graciously.
"It is called Hogwarts, Mr. Granger. It is an exclusive school for students with exceptional talents and abilities, such as Hermione."
I sat up straighter in my seat.
"Well, I agree that Hermione is extremely gifted in her studies Professor but, forgive me, how do you know? I've never inquired about any school in Scotland, I've never heard of it." Mum said, placing her hand on mine and squeezing.
"Oh, well you wouldn't have heard of it, Mrs. Granger. But Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has a long, long history of catering to the most talented students in all of England, Wales, Ireland and Scotland. I'm prejudiced of course, but you'll find no better school for young witches and wizards in the world." She said. The twinkle in her eye grew brighter when she spoke so enthusiastically about her beloved school.
"I'm sorry – did you say…witchcraft?" Dad said. I saw his body tense up and he eyed Mum and me. He was clearly regretting ever allowing this insane person into our parlour.
"I did indeed, Mr. Granger. Now, before you start panicking that I am a crackpot," She chuckled at her own joke (which my parents did not find amusing at all) "May I ask Hermione a question?"
I nodded, intrigued but afraid.
"Have you ever made something inexplicable happen? Do these things seem to happen when you're in an extreme emotional state?" My widening eyes were all the answer she needed.
"Yes, Ma'am." I replied, my memory filling to the brim with every instance.
"You aren't alone, Hermione. There is an explanation for your abilities and the teachers at our school are proficient in bringing out the best there is within you." Professor McGonagall's calm, even tone had me transfixed while my parents looked on in confusion and a bit of fear.
Dad stood up and gestured his hand for the door. "We really must be going, Miss – erm Professor." He said.
Professor McGonagall looked at him and reached into a hidden pocket of her robe, it looked like she was feeling around for something and it made my father's hands shake. She pulled out a stick. About 11 inches long, it had a slight curve to it. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a –
The strange woman who appeared at my front door on my 11th birthday waved the stick in the air and vanished before our eyes. I sat with my parents completely astonished when she was gone and the black cat that was always staring at me was sitting on the chair in her place.
"What the devil?!" Mum exclaimed.
After a minute or so of cocking it head at us, the cat stepped casually off the chair and padded over to our upright studio piano against the wall. Before we could have another thought, Professor McGonagall was suddenly back and the cat was nowhere to be seen.
"Mr. and Mrs. Granger, may I present you with this…" she said, pulling an envelope out of her robe, presumably from the very pocket where she'd stowed her stick.
Mum was flabbergasted but she stood and reached out for the letter. The gleam in Professor McGonagall's eye returned, three-fold.
My parents read the letter together and looked up at me and then at McGonagall who flashed a warm smile at them and me.
"It's all true." She said. "We have ways of finding children such as Hermione, that is to say, born to non-Magic families such as yourselves. Muggles, we call you. Mind you, it's not a derogatory term in the least. No one knows why Magic children are born to two Muggle parents but they are no less gifted than Pureblood children. I dare say, Hermione will flourish at Hogwarts."
Completely flabbergasted my parents stood silent. I approached and took the piece of parchment from my mother's hand.
"It is with great pleasure that we inform you, Hermione Jean Granger, that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…" I read to myself.
"Professor, I'm sorry but…there's no such thing as magic…" Mum said, finally finding her voice.
"It's perfectly natural for you to doubt. Muggle parents often refuse to acknowledge it. It is of course your decision as her parents whether or not Hermione matriculates at Hogwarts. If I may say though, it is unlikely that Hermione will feel more at home anywhere else in the world."
That struck a chord. I certainly felt different, lately more than ever. Since The Thing. My heart did a somersault – The Thing. I had an explanation for it now. I had a name to call it that didn't make me ashamed. It was Magic.
