I sat at the kitchen table, still in shock over the events of the last few hours. I ran my hands through my hair for the umpteenth time, and thought, "This isn't happening."

I had just spent the afternoon discussing my, err, interesting past, and promisingly even more bizarre future. Using many words and phrases that I had no previous use for (witch, wizard, magic), and many I had never even heard before (muggle, Hogwarts, and Ministry of Magic), my aunt explained to me why exactly I can speak to trees, bushes, flowers, and every other plant around (though she doesn't know I can): I am a witch.

I, of course, had many questions, and interjected them into the conversation at will; this policy of constant interruption not only irritated my aunt to the point of her third glass of wine, but also slowed the flow of information so dramatically as to take the whole afternoon and part of the evening to disperse it. "So, this place, Hogwarts, is a school for-"

"Witches and wizards," my aunt finished.

"And my parents, were they?" They weren't, she told me. My family hadn't seen any magic for four generations; everyone was shocked -and pleased- to find out I had it. And I had it bad. When my parents first brought me home, the house came alive -all the boards sprouted roots, branches, leaves, and we barely escaped before the whole thing destroyed itself.

"But Care, I don't have magic now," I thought about the Grove, and Allah, Fulk, Trek, and the others, and knew I was kidding myself. At least now we know I'm not insane, I thought. But I hadn't ever told my aunt about the Grove, and I decided not to bring it up.

"Well, you were not supposed to find out about magic, Soph. And you definitely were never supposed to go to Hogwarts. I don't even know how they found out about you -your parents had your powers bound right after you destroyed the house. You had too much magic for a family of muggles to raise -you were a danger to yourself and to those who loved you. And we couldn't give you up then, certainly not when most wizards spend the seven later years of their adolescence at school – we'd never see you! Anyway, who'd be the wiser if your parents raised you as a muggle?"

I asked her how I could have my powers now, when I couldn't use them while growing up? How could my parents have bound my powers when they had none of their own? Where are these people with magic – witches, wizards? Do they work? Do we know any? My aunt shook her head after this string of questions; she didn't know. "I'm only allowed to know so much about your world, about magic, and honey, that suits me just fine. Your kind, your people," (Unknowingly, I frowned at the phrase your people) "Are everywhere. I don't know any, or maybe I do. But that's the point, isn't it? We just aren't allowed to know."

She explained what she knew about the Ministry of Magic (yeah, unbelievable, I know) when I asked how muggles didn't know about wizards. She continued, excitedly, possibly from the wine, "But you'll have all the answers you want soon, Hogwarts is filled with knowledgeable and talented people—"

"But what about CSA? I've wanted to go there for years, and I only have two more years to prepare before I audition for Juilliard-"

"Honey, Juilliard…well, I know it was your dream-"

"Is my dream," I argued.

"Is," she said quietly. "But now that you have magic, it's only a matter of time before it gets out of control. You have to go to Hogwarts for you own safety! Maybe there will be time for Juilliard after Hogwarts?"

But she and I both knew that if I decided to attend Hogwarts, there would be no Caprice, and there would be no Juilliard. To attend a school of magic was a one-way trip, I would have to disown my old life, my old muggle life. "But you said that the students are admitted at age eleven. I'm sixteen. How is that supposed to work?"

"I don't know, Sophie," she answered, "Maybe you can talk to the Headmaster about arranging for private tutoring?"

Headmaster? "Headmaster? Like, private school?" She stared at me blankly. Oh, no. "Boarding school? I can't go to boarding school!" What about Tiff, and all my other friends? What about Aunt Care?

My stomach fell - what about the Grove? What about Trek?

"Honey, you'd be staying at Caprice, anyway," my aunt offered. But CSA was only two hours away -it was like not leaving at all. I mean, I'd still have my laptop, and my cell phone at CSA, but Care made it seem like wizards don't even use electricity! How was I supposed to talk to Tiff? I can't function without my best friend!

"How often will I be able to come home?" I asked dejectedly.

"Well, honey," she started, "That's just it. You know I don't have a lot of money, and plane tickets cost quite a bit, especially transatlantic flights—"

"Transatlantic? You don't mean -where exactly is Hogwarts?" Please, don't say it. Please, don't say it, I thought desperately. She didn't mean "transatlantic," she was just –a Freudian slip, yeah. Of course Hogwarts is in the States.

&&&

"And then she said, 'Hogwarts is in Europe,'" I told Trek mutely. Sometimes, when I'm tired, or just don't feel like talking, I'll mind-speak with some of the Ancients in the Grove. It was late, and I was depressed; Trek was my comfort. After I disclosed the location of the school I was to attend this fall, to my surprise I had little else to say. Shock, I guess.

We were both silent for a long time before I said, "So, this is magic? Us talking?" I paused for a moment, "You knew it long before I did, didn't you?" His silence was an obvious "yes".

After a few more minutes of labored silence, Trek spoke, "Everyone knew you had powers, we were there when they were bound. But I did not know you would have to leave when you got them back."

"Do you know why I got them back?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes, but I am not allowed to tell you," he replied.

"Why aren't you?" I asked, puzzled. Who has power over the Ancients?

Trek spoke somberly, "I am not allowed to tell you that either." We were both silent once again. The night was edging close, a few fireflies were about, sparkling in the twilight. I lied back against Trek's strong trunk, cradled in his comforting bows, and gazed up at the early night sky. There were a few stars out already.

My companion broke my meditation, "Sophie?"

"Yeah?" I answered sleepily.

His mind-voice was very quiet, "Do you want to leave?"

"No!" I exclaimed, "How could you even question me? I love it here. I love the Grove." And I did. As much as I may have wanted to study magic, the thought of leaving this place might certainly be enough to forgo the whole adventure.

I could feel Trek's branches stiffen a little before he spoke. "Do you love me?"

I knew this was coming. I knew he loved me. I did not understand why, but I am not a tree. "Trek, you are my greatest friend. Of course I love you."

"But…" Trek offered sadly.

I sighed. "But we are too different for us to share the same love." This hurt Trek, I knew, and it hurt me, too. I didn't want to leave him like this, but it was time to say goodnight. Silently, I planted an innocent kiss on his trunk, descended to the ground, and followed the well-trodden path back to the cabin.