When Erik was eleven, he found out that he had magic.

He'd always been fond of tricks and illusions, but he assumed that that was all it was. Really, despite what his mother may say, he wasn't completely crazy. All the 'magic' he'd ever done were just illusions and sleights of hand. All as practiced and methodological as a fifth grader's math homework. He knew that, at the end of the day, he was just controlling what his audience (or lack thereof, really. He wasn't in the habit of finding people to entertain nowadays) was looking at. He was simply a trickster and a menace.

Until he wasn't.

He didn't exactly realize that he had literal magic until a strange lady in strange robes knocked on his doorstep with a letter addressed to him. His mother was in her room when it had happened, probably staring at the wall or mindlessly watching television again. He warily opened it, knowing she'd punish him if he let someone disturb her quiet time. They didn't usually get visitors or mail -much less via a strangely dressed person- and it was enough to startle and intrigue him at the same time.

The two figures stared at each other, both taking in the other's presence. The woman was old, but with a marked strength in the way that she held herself. Her outfit was rather old, like she'd stepped out of a time machine from the nineteenth century. She was looking at him with pursed lips and furrowed brows.

Erik got that look a lot, especially from adults. He disliked it. He knew how he looked, unfortunately. He hid his entire face behind a black mask he crafted himself once he outgrew the ones his mother used to throw on him. His own clothes were overly large for his skinny frame, yet they were unable to hide how grey his complexion was. He barely had hair, too. Only strands and patches of what could have been.

All in all, he was a rather pitiful sight to behold.

Erik knew the woman was about to say something. She had the same expression his previous teachers had when he came to school with cuts and bruises. His mother had pulled him out of school once she had gotten Child Services off of her radar. Erik didn't complain. He wasn't a big fan of being tossed around the foster care system and dealing with the idiots in his grade level.

"We're not buying anything." He nipped it at the bud before she could get a word out. He made a move to close the door, but the woman held on to the wood firmly.

"Are you Erik Dupont?"

The child blinked, his gold eyes fluttering in confusion. "Yes," he said slowly. "What do you want?"

"I'm the Deputy Headmistress from a prestigious academy in Scotland. We believe that you'd be a perfect addition to our community. Would you like to have this conversation indoors?"

"You could be a burglar," Erik said tartly.

The lady blinked. "I… I'm not sure how to respond to that."

"The other houses in this neighborhood have better things than we do." He shrugged. "Everything here is dusty or useless. You'd be getting more value from your work if you broke into the house at the end of the road."

"Child, I'm not going to steal- oh, would you just call your father?"

"I can't."

She sighed exasperatedly. "Why not?"

"He's dead." He shrugged again, remarkably elegant for a preteen boy.

"Oh, dear." There was something in her eyes that Erik didn't appreciate. It was pity. "I'm sorry. Is your mother here? Or any adult, really."

Erik envisioned his mother in her room, coked out of her mind and smelling like she rolled into a bar dumpster on a Saturday night. He wisely shook his head, not wanting to get into that with a stranger.

She sighed. "Alright, well. If it makes you feel any better, you can use those telephone things muggles use to call your Aurors if I make you feel unsafe. I won't stop you."

Erik was unfamiliar with a lot of the words she used. Regardless, his instincts told him that the woman wasn't a huge threat to him and that, if she did prove to be one, he could easily escape before she even noticed he was gone. In the end, he just wanted to see this play out. He was getting bored being cooped up in here all day.

He widened the door for her, stepping aside. "You may come in, madame." He pointed at the end of the hallway just visible by the doorway. "Down there," he said. "We can speak in the parlor."

Erik knew his mother was likely unconscious by now, but he didn't want her to wake up because of their talking. It simply wasn't worth the hassle of dealing with her. He led his guest to the room and gestured for her to sit on one of the chairs.

The parlor was dusty, obviously unused to being vacated by polite company. Erik himself never ventured to this place very much. He preferred to keep to his room or in the library. The lady looked uncomfortable. Was it because of how abandoned the area looked? The cobwebs on the ceiling? Or was it simply because of how unsettling Erik could be when he was staring at someone?

"Your house is lovely," she weakly said.

"It's… not in its best condition." Erik admitted, settling himself on the large sofa across from her. "Rather big for two people, isn't it? Well, my father had it built when he was alive. He was an architect, you know? I think he was quite good. Very good, even."

The lady hummed. "Do you like living here, then?"

Erik blinked. Was she a cop? Was it costume day for Child Protective Services? He almost groaned. He really didn't want to go through all that again. "Well, shouldn't I? Lovely place, good location. I'm sure there's a Starbucks for all the rich mothers with nothing better to do just a few turns from here. You can't miss it. The parks are great for kids and the school district is passable for a secluded town."

"You could be a real estate agent with all that charm and knowledge." She said and Erik almost smiled at how hard she tried to hide her sarcasm.

"I always fancied myself as something more sinister, madame… like a cult leader or a politician."

She managed to chuckle at that. "I'm sure you'd do well for yourself either way." She looked at him again, directly into his unnatural eyes. Her expression turned slightly serious and Erik was almost nervous to hear what she'd say. This was the longest he'd ever spoken to an adult about things that weren't painful for him. "Mr. Dupont," she began.

"Yes, madame?" His voice became softer, as if waiting for a blow to come.

"What do you feel about magic?"

Well… that wasn't exactly what he was expecting. "Madame?" His head tilted to the side as it always did when he was confused.

"Have you ever done anything that you'd consider magical?"

"Er, yes?" Was she recruiting kids to go to a magician's summer camp? He used to beg his mother to get into one of those. If not that, then maybe his mother had finally had enough of him and decided to put him in a mental hospital.

"You have?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I know magic isn't real." He snorted. "But I can do tricks and illusions. They're my specialties." He brightened suddenly, patting his pockets until he found where he hid the pack of cards that he always kept on his person. "Would you like to see?" He waved his cards eagerly at her. Erik couldn't help but be excited at the thought of entertaining someone who could be more receptive than his mother.

The lady leaned forward, intrigued. "I can't say I'm not interested to see your… magic."

Erik giggled, a pretty sound that reminded the lady of a lovely bell swaying in the wind. He shuffled the cards in his hand and held it out to her. "Pick a card, madame. Any card!"

And so Erik showcased many of his tricks to his sudden guest. He used his practiced ease to wow and surprise her. He was particularly proud of his sleight of hand, being able to confuse the woman despite her swearing that she'd been watching the whole time.

What really surprised her, however, was when the cards began to speak.

"My, my! What a strangely dressed visitor we have!" The Queen card gasped.

"My darling!" The King card chided. "You cannot say something so rude… she has been a stellar guest, after all."

"... Mr. Dupont?"

Erik ignored her and looked as though he didn't hear the conversation between the two cards on the deck.

"Surely she must know that robbing this household would give her nothing but bedbugs." The Queen sighed.

"Don't frighten her so, darling." The King chuckled. "Perhaps she simply thinks our Erik is a charming fellow and a decent magician!"

"Erik, are you making those two cards talk?" She wasn't frightened, really. In fact, the guest looked very fascinated by Erik's little performance. It was refreshing. Usually when Erik entertained her mother like this, she'd crush his fingers by slamming a bible on his knuckles.

Erik hummed and tilted his head. He flipped over all the cards in his hand and revealed that all the cards he had turned into alternating Kings and Queens. They talked amongst themselves, bickering like old married couples.

Erik gave a little bow and allowed himself to grin when his guest clapped.

"Bravo, Mr. Dupont!" She smiled and Erik felt proud of himself. "Was that your magic, then? You're awfully good."

"Thank you," he responded shyly. "I can do mirror illusions as well as other forms of magic, but card tricks are a favorite of mine."

"How would you feel about going to a school of magic, Mr. Dupont?" Her voice was gentle.

"A school of magic?" Erik tapped his fingers on the bottom of his lips as he thought about it. "I'll be honest, madame. I always thought I'd end up in a university with an architecture program or a music academy. Regardless, most magic can be learned through books or online videos nowaday."

She chuckled at that. "Not that sort of magic, Mr. Dupont. Real magic."

Erik blinked. "Are you high? Is that what this is? You're high?" Maybe she was one of the junkies his mother was friends with.

"Not quite," she answered dryly. "My name is Professor McGonagall. I'm the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm here to inform you that you are eligible to enroll for your first year this coming September. Congratulations, Mr. Dupont. You're a wizard."

Again, Erik just blinked. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? "I think you're mistaken, madame." He offered slowly, so as to not startle her. "Those card tricks I did were simply tricks. The voices were just ventriloquism. Really, does anyone know you're here? Can I make a call for you?"

She actually laughed and Erik was starting to become agitated. Professor McGonagall noticed. "Why don't I show you some magic, Mr. Dupont? Simply to prove it to you?"

"I suppose..." Heaven help him, he was actually curious to see what she'd have up her sleeve.

And then, she literally pulled out a wooden stick from her sleeve. She grabbed a pen laying on the little table beside her and changed it into a feather.

"Well?" She raised an eyebrow.

Erik narrowed his eyes. "Sleight of hand. Even I could do that."

She chuckled. "I don't doubt it. Allow me to do another." She picked up the throw pillow next to her and, with another swish of her wand, she made it float between her hands and around her person.

Erik watched it with a growing sense of confusion. Still, he wasn't convinced. "Strings," he said. "Or perhaps you have another hidden tool? Physics is a fickle thing. I wouldn't be surprised if you had something that makes it look like a pillow can float. Regardless, I'm sure I could do that if I were given enough time." He crossed his arms and was almost inclined to pout. He usually took joy in analyzing and debunking tricks.

Instead of being put off by his attitude as he expected, she just let out a hearty laugh. "Tell me, Mr. Dupont." There was a teasing glint in her eyes. "Are you allergic to cats?"

"Well, no-"

And suddenly, without even a moment's rest for Erik to even comprehend what's happening, Professor McGonagall transformed into a cat and jumped into his arms with a purr. Erik yelped and jumped off the chair, almost letting her fall in the process. She softly hissed and hopped off of him, stretching on the ground as if she owned the place.

Panting slightly, Erik looked around the room. "Professor McGonagall?" He called out. "I know you're hiding somewhere. That was nothing but smoke and mirrors!" The issue was that neither smoke nor mirrors were even in the room. He was grasping at straws here, but what else could he think. A human lady just turned into a cat. Maybe his mother was right. Maybe there is something wrong with him.

The cat approached his agitated form, pawing at his ankle. Erik softened and his heart slowed a little bit. With the last few searching glances around the parlor, he finally gave up and looked down at the feline below him. The cat stared right back at him.

"So… you're Professor McGonagall?" He hesitated to ask, but moments like these called for Occam's razor.

The cat nodded.

"Right… so, say I did believe in magic… what sort of school would I be going to?"

And, as if nothing happened, Professor McGonagall transformed herself back into a human and sat herself down on the sofa. "Hogwarts, Mr. Dupont, is where you will learn to control your magic. You'll have different classes with witches and wizards your age. It's located in Scotland and you'll be living in a dormitory. Here-" she handed him a letter. "This is for you. There's more information about it in there."

Erik held the letter in his hands. He held it tightly. It was the first piece of mail he'd gotten and it was addressed to him. To Erik! It felt precious. More carefully than any boy his age would have done, he broke the seal and pulled out the letters within the fine envelope.

Inside was the introductory letter which told him of his acceptance, the list of things he'd need for the school year, and the list of books he was required to bring. It was more… impersonal than he'd expected, but he admired it all the same.

"I'm not sure where I'd get all these things." He admitted with a mutter. "I've never heard of these things. And an owl? I'd have to find a breeder for that, wouldn't I?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "There's a Wizard area in London called Diagon Alley. I shall accompany you so that you may have a chaperone that is familiar with the Wizarding World."

Somehow, a weight placed itself on Erik's chest. "So, this Wizarding World… How different is this for non-magic people?"

"They're called muggles, Mr. Dupont." She corrected him. "And to answer your question, they're not very different. Neither is better than the other. Only one has magic and the other does not."

"That's not very comforting." Erik frowned. "Isn't magic an unfair advantage?"

"Only if used as such, Mr. Dupont." She raised an eyebrow. "I hope you don't plan on doing something sinister with your magic."

Erik only hummed in agreement and changed the topic just as quickly. "What's the school system like in Hogwarts? Is it a one-on-one mentorship program?"

"Heavens, no!" Professor McGonagall placed a hand on her chest. "Merlin knows we don't have enough teachers for that. You and your peers will be grouped into four Houses and will learn in a classroom setting together."

The awful feeling in his chest grew. "I see..."

Professor McGonagall seemed to notice his hesitance. She stood up from the sofa and approached him, kneeling next to him as Erik stifled a flinch. Her eyes softened as he lowered his head, looking at his fidgeting hands.

"Mr. Dupont? Are you alright?"

"Professor McGonagall?" His yellow eyes were hidden behind the black mask he wore.

"Yes, child?" She gently prompted.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be able to attend Hogwarts."

Thank you for reading! There are nine chapters left and i'll be updating weekly :) don't forget to review! they really make my day. also, i'm posting this story on ao3, too! it's under the same title and my user is tanabubbles. hope you enjoy!