Anthea had come to know both Hogwarts and Hogsmeade like the back of her hand. The elves took her on adventures with Minerva's approval during the school year and, during the holidays, the woman did it herself. Those were by far Anthea's favourite outings. She loved going out with the elves, but walking side by side with her mum was at a whole new level. So, when Minerva announced that she was taking her to Diagon Alley that day, she grinned from ear to ear.

"Can I get a wand?" she asked, aiming her best puppy eyes in the direction of her mum.

"You can get a toy wand, top of the line," Minerva conceded. "If you treat it well, it'll last you a few months. And I'll buy you a few books."

Anthea squealed with excitement, which made her mum uncharacteristically giggle. Less than an hour later, they were taking the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron. Anthea's heart was thundering in her chest, and she gasped in amazement when they walked through the magical passage between Muggle London and its magical part. Hogsmeade was a quaint little village; it didn't prepare her for the buzzing animation in Diagon Alley. There were noises and movements everywhere, flashes of colour and people walking, talking, laughing. Minerva took her hand and didn't let go, which was probably a good choice. Anthea could get very distracted and her tunnel vision had already caused trouble for her more than once.

"Let's start with the toy shop, then," Minerva said, taking her in that direction.

Anthea had a very hard time staying calm and composed. She wanted to hop up and down with excitement; her mum wouldn't have minded, but people were looking at her. Some of them, the girl recognised. They were in the papers often, for their eminent role in the government, and although she didn't read it yet, she often watched the moving pictures of their faces sneering at the reader. Others, she identified by the green and silver adorning their robes, because one second between a stool and a hat defined their personality and identity for the rest of their lives. Ridiculous.

In the toy shop, Anthea stayed close to her mum. She wasn't interested in teddy bears which changed colour or damned toy brooms. She only wanted a wand. It would be a toy, yes, but the best quality ones could bear a few simple spells and she saw it as a way of training before first year. Okay, way before first year. She would have competition, after all, if she had done her maths correctly: Hermione Granger would be in her year. She could only hope that they would be friends. She had always been the character Anthea identified with the most, in her previous life.

They left the shop after thirty minutes, Anthea the happy owner of two top of the line toy wands. She couldn't wait to be back home and free to try them. Finding old schoolbooks wasn't at all complicated, when you knew where to look. The Room of Requirement was a marvel of magic, a true piece of work. Spending time in the place when she could persuade her elf teachers to look the other way made it clear: Rowena Ravenclaw's magic was everywhere, vibrant and almost adorned with a life of its own.

"I have to go get Professor Dumbledore's order at Madam Malkin's. Will you be okay waiting for me at Flourish and Blotts?"

That laid back attitude never failed to surprise Anthea. The wizardry world was tiny and with that came a level of liberty she had never experienced during her previous life. Of course, in time of war, children were rarely allowed outside, and never without supervision. This, though, was a time of peace. "Don't worry, Mum. I'll be too busy deciding which books I want to find my way to trouble."

"You're far too clever for your own good," Minerva said tenderly.

Yes, Anthea was, and she knew that. With a cheeky grin, she waved to her mum then walked down the busy street to the bookshop. She didn't know where it was yet, except for a general direction, but she wouldn't have too much trouble finding it. She strolled down the street, looking around quietly. The pet shop almost had her stopping, but Minerva had said she could have a pet when she entered Hogwarts, not before.

Suddenly, as she walked past a high-end dress robes shop, some older boy bumped hard against Anthea, sending her sprawling on the pavement. She yelped in pain, her two knees burning, and looked up to see who had pushed her. It was a big boy with dirty blonde hair, black eyes and a large nose. He sneered at her, a smirk on his thin lips. Anthea jumped on her feet despite the pain in both her knees and opened her mouth to scream at him, even though he looked twice her age and was so much bigger. She didn't have time to speak, though.

"Hey, you ass! Can't you look around before you barrel around like you own the place?"

Anthea turned around and frowned when a shorter boy, around the same age as the first one, walked up to them. He had ginger hair, so many freckles he almost looked tanned, and big blue eyes. They probably looked quite innocent usually, but a storm was brewing in their cerulean depths. He stomped towards the boy who had pushed Anthea until they were almost nose to nose and jammed his finger into his torso. He was smaller but, in a way, far more interesting.

"You apologise to that girl right now if you don't want me to rearrange that ugly face of yours."

Deep down, Anthea was impressed. The ginger's voice was a low growl, full of menace far beyond the boy's age. Her attacker seemed to realise too: his shoulders slumped and he took a step back. However, before he could say anything, a woman with the same eyes and hair called.

"Gavin, come here! I had lost you, you foolish boy!"

He whipped around and ran to what was obviously his mother. Anthea walked to the ginger boy. "Thank you for defending me. I could have done it myself, but I appreciate not having to."

He blushed and scratched his neck, looking a bit confused, but then a grin fought its way to his lips. "That's no trouble, and yeah, I knew you could do it yourself. You, hum, you looked thoroughly pissed at him, but he was still twice his size and you were injured so…" His voice, now soft and appropriate for his age, died down before he visibly changed gears. "I'm Charlie Weasley. You?"

"Anthea McGonagall," she answered, her heart suddenly racing. A rush of adrenalin went through her, raging inside her mind. It was one thing to be related to the Minerva McGonagall, to live in Hogwarts, to interact with people she had read about in fiction books during her first like, and quite another to meet one of the infamous Weasley boys. She shook her surprise off, though, and offered him her least scratched hand.

"Wow, that looks so painful. Do you need something? A tissue? An adult?"

"Yeah, it hurts. A tissue would be nice, actually. My mum won't be pleased when she sees me like this." As for Alastor, well, Anthea didn't even want to think about it. There was no way she could hide it from her mentor, and he would be so pissed to hear how she had let anyone surprise her. He held her to impossible standards, yes, but she loved it. She felt stimulated, challenged, when he trained her. She didn't want to disappoint him, but this would no doubt be a disappointment.

"Here, take it," Charlie said after rummaging through his pockets. The tissue was clean, which was more than could be asked from a boy his age, usually. He stared at her, his brow furrowed in effort. "You, uh, how old are you? You can't be more than six, but you don't feel or speak like a six years old."

"And you can't be more than twelve, but you don't speak or behave like a twelve years old," Anthea threw back. "I'm five. My birthday is in November."

"And I'm eleven, birthday in December. I'll go to Hogwarts after the summer."

"That's brilliant! I live there. I don't spend a lot of time with the students during the year, though. My mum is head of the Gryffindor House."

"I'll probably be sorted there. Does that mean I'll see you around?"

"Eh, I don't think so. If you want to become friends at Hogwarts, Charlie Weasley, you'll have to find the elves."

He looked so puzzled, so lost, that she couldn't suppress a playful grin. Before he could ask for more information, though, a plump ginger witch walked to them.

"Charlie, there you are! I told you to… Oh, dear girl, what happened to you? You're all scratched up!"

"Sorry, Mum! I was on my way to Fortescue's, I swear, but I saw a boy push her and I couldn't…"

Molly Weasley immediately softened and cupped her son's cheek. Another boy would have shied away from the public display of affection, but Charlie didn't. Mentally, Anthea gave him points for that. "And you couldn't look the other way, I know. Who's your new friend?"

"I'm Anthea, ma'am. Anthea McGonagall. Really nice to meet you, and to meet your son as well."

"Oh, aren't you sweet. Just call me Molly, Anthea dear. Where's your mum? Aren't you Minerva's girl?"

"Yes, I am. She had to go at Madam Malkin's and I don't like it there, so she said I could go wait for her at Flourish and Blotts."

Molly smiled, her face all motherly and warm. "We'll walk you there, then. But, before that…" She took her wand and waved it around Anthea. Her skin itched as it mended itself. Another spell got rid of the blood, and a third fixed her clothes. She let out a sigh of relief when it was done. Maybe her mum and Alastor wouldn't hear about it after all.