July was nearing its end, but the midsummer sun continued to berate the English countryside. Away from the bustling cities and tidy suburban homes, there was not much to keep the heat of sun's rays at bay. A peaceful breeze swept over the tall grass, doing its best to offer asylum in the open landscape. Still the sun shone on, unperturbed and unrelenting.

The inhabitants of Tarrendale did not seem to mind the heat. They flitted from one house to the next, choosing to enjoy the sunshine rather than to seclude themselves indoors. Adults congregated on front porches, teens loitered with bottles of pop in front of the grocer, each group warily eyeing the other. A flock of children ran around the statue of a dapper man in the town square. They were fearless, their shoe laces untied, their abandoned candy wrappers tumbling along in the dirt. Today they were purely focused on soaking up every minute of the summer that they could.

A small girl with white blonde hair tumbled over her feet, knocking her nose on the ground and beginning to cry. As if an alarm had gone off, the teenagers scattered to different corners of the town. The adults across the street heaved a collective sigh as all the children began screaming, as if they shared the pain of the girl on the ground.

One of the men got up from his chair, hurrying over and scooping the little girl into his arms. "There, there, my love. No need to cry. Let's get you home to wash up."

This only seemed to increase the complaints from the herd, and several parents resigned themselves to collecting their children for lunch. They bid each other goodbye with commiserating looks. They'd all be back in an hour or two's time regardless.

"All these little ones, these days," complained a little old lady, as she and her friends watched the crowd's receding backs. "I never would have let my daughter cause such a racket. It's indecent."

"The only reason your daughter never caused a racket is because she was off getting lost in the meadow, Violet," scoffed one of the others. She sniffed and blew her nose into a lacy handkerchief.

"I think we were all a bit more free with ours," said another as she straightened her glasses. "Out of house, out of mind. They always came back home at the end of the day. But these days who knows what could happen? Got to keep them close."

"You hear about that break-in, Aggie? And right in the middle of Popperton, right next door…"

"Popperton is about thirty miles away, Doris," croaked Violet.

Doris clutched at her handkerchief, her hands trembling with fury. "Well it's close, innit? I personally won't let my grandchildren out of my sight til they catch the nasty criminal. If you're not responsible enough—"

"Ha! Out of your sight? You'd have about ten children right in yer lap, night and day, you blind—"

"It's only so crowded because of the heat," Aggie said wistfully, ignoring the bickering beside her. "It's got all the children up in a rumpus. I do wish the lake were still open."

"That nasty old pond? Pah!" Violet sneered. "Good riddance, I say. All the filth and muck in there. Full of pollution, no doubt. You know, there was an inquiry ten years back, and they never released the findings. Just closed it up."

"That'll be the government covering it up," Doris said sagely. "All sorts of things can cause cancer these days. Just one little toe in and zap!"

She snapped her fingers impressively, and Violet snorted.

"That's not how cancer works, you withered old fig."

"Alright, then you go up there, you barmy tit! Go on!"

The woman continued to bicker, their voices carrying down to the end of the high street, and through wide open windows along the way. But they were empty words. No matter how innocent or cancerous it might have been, the lake hadn't received visitors from Tarrendale in almost a decade.

High above the town, a mile's trek into the woods, the lake lay hidden from sight. It was not clear, perhaps—more the color of a strong cup of tea—but the sand and rounded rocks that paved the bottom of the lake were visible well into its depths. Sunlight peeked through leaf-laden branches, dappling the surface of water.

And yet, even though the inhabitants of Tarrendale kept their distance, the lake still bore signs of life. Clumsy flower crowns and daisy chains littered the edge of the forest. On the south shore, the rocks faded from clay red to pale and shining white, a methodical gradient stretching over several yards. Shoes lay discarded amid tree roots; a pale blue towel was slung over a branch. The breeze returned, working its way through tree trunks to ripple the water. And just as the lake settled, a head of bright red hair broke the surface.

The small girl sputtered and blinked. She wiped the water from her eyes, and with pruned fingers tried to unstick the strands of hair that had cemented themselves to her chubby, freckle-stained cheeks. She ducked underwater again, just long enough to push her hair into place before resurfacing. A quick look around confirmed that she was still alone. Her lips trembled and twitched, not entirely sure whether they were meant to be smiling or frowning. They settled on a thoughtful pout instead. Then with a deep breath, and a kick of her legs, Emmeline Marsh rose to float on her back in the middle of the lake.

Emmeline had spent most of her summer like this. She had woken before the sun came up, been caught creeping down the hall, and had to go back to bed. But Emmeline couldn't sleep. She'd sit on top of her sheets, sometimes reading books, sometimes just watching the shapes of the shadows on her walls. Once it was a more respectable time, she'd go to the kitchen for breakfast. After breakfast, she'd sit by the window, or pace around the house until she was told to play outside. Then she'd come to the lake to pass the time until lunch. Needless to say, it had been a long few months.

The clouds drifted overhead, and Emmeline concentrated on pretending she was moving them by sheer force of will. This quickly lost its appeal. The clouds weren't moving the way she wanted them to—they were drifting in the wrong direction, and moving much too slowly to be interesting. Boredom crept closer, tickling the edges of her mind like the heat prickled her skin.

But Emmeline resolutely glared at the sky. She would find a way to entertain herself. She always did.

With a small huff, she focused her attention on the shape of the clouds instead. That one looked like a rather large whale, and that one a bit like a dragon. Within seconds, the sky had turned into a menagerie of mismatched creatures, roaming around the sky as they visited each other for afternoon tea. Boredom slunk away, defeated for another hour or so.

If there was one thing Emmeline was good at, it was finding ways to pass the time. She was an only child, and her parents had died when she was very young. They had been her only blood relatives, and with no one else to take her in, Emmeline had been raised by her godmother far out in the country. Their house was a tiny square amidst miles of grassy fields. There wasn't a neighbor in sight, save for the family of rabbits that nested just beyond the garden. This meant that Emmeline had spent most of her childhood alone. She ran through the woods, swam in the lake, had lengthy conversations with the sky—always learning how to overcome loneliness and isolation.

A gentle rustle from the woods broke Emmeline's concentration. She floated upright, watching the trees as the rustling grew louder. The footsteps were coming closer, a voice calling out her name.

Emmeline took a deep breath and dunked herself under the surface once more. She fought against the air in her lungs, paddling furiously to force her body to the bottom of the lake. Her feet burrowed beneath the rocks, anchoring her in the silt. Then she stopped, standing still underwater, and waited.

The lake water made it difficult to gauge what was happening on land. The voice she'd heard became distorted and muffled, and then was silenced all together. She couldn't be sure if she was too deep, or if no one was speaking at all. The only thing she knew for certain was that no one had joined her in the lake. She would have heard the disturbance in the water.

Years of swimming had made Emmeline very good at holding her breath. For several minutes she stayed still at her post, only moving her arms to prevent her body from rising. But eventually, her lungs began to burn, and she had to come up for air.

Emmeline pushed off hard and rocketed up through the water. She broke the surface whooping with laughter, and spraying water in every direction.

The thin woman standing on the lake shore jumped in surprise. She shrieked, and flapped her hands as the lake water threatened to dampen the long, cobalt robes she was wearing. "Oh my—Emmeline! How many times do I have to tell you not to do that? You knew perfectly well that I was standing here."

"Sorry Aunt Vee," said Emmeline. She realized too late that giggling might cheapen the apology.

Aunt Vee glared down at her, drawing herself up to her full considerable height. She was a stern woman, her angled face beset with fine lines of age. Her long black hair was pulled into a tight plait down her back. Contrary to her face, her hair showed no sign of aging. Not one hair had gone grey, not a single one looked out of place. Everything was in order, and that was just the way the intrepid Emmeline Vance liked it.

She pulled her thin wand out from her robes, and with a flourish, the water that had speckled her hem vanished. She gave her goddaughter a pointed look, but Emmeline had gone back to spinning around in the lake.

"How long was I down there for?" she asked brightly. "Did I break my record? I did, didn't I?"

"I'm not sure," said Aunt Vee. "I wasn't counting."

"Please? It had to be at least ten minutes!"

"It was certainly no more than five."

Emmeline sagged. "Are…Are you sure?"

Aunt Vee considered her for a moment, and then smiled. The transformation was amazing. It took years off her face, and suddenly she seemed as warm as the summer's day. "Don't frown, my dear. You're already much better than most children your age. You know, most Muggle children can only hold their breath for two."

"Really?" Emmeline's heart lifted a bit as her body bobbed out of the water.

"Really. You're very talented for your age, and you'll have plenty of time to practice after lunch."

Emmeline groaned. She plopped back into the lake, treading just enough to keep her face above the surface. "But it's so nice out! I don't want to go home!"

"Emmeline, you know how I feel about that word."

She did, in fact, know how her aunt felt about that word. "But." It was one of the only things Emmeline was never supposed to say. Aunt Vee was very loving, but she was an adult, and Emmeline was only a child. The most important lesson she had been taught growing up was that Aunt Vee always had her best interest at heart. And her word was final.

Despite knowing all of this, Emmeline groaned, and allowed herself to slip a little farther back into the lake.

"That's enough," said Aunt Vee. The smile disappeared, replaced by narrowed eyes once more. "You've spent plenty of time in the lake today. It's time for lunch. Now get out of there right now before I get you out myself."

This threat is relatively common. Phrases like "you have until I count to three" or "don't make me come over there" might be used to frighten Muggle children into complying without the real threat of punishment. But Emmeline knew better. More than once, she had decided to stay in the lake when her aunt asked her to step out. More than once, she'd been forcefully levitated out of the water and flown home over the tops of the trees. Sometimes it was funny. Most times it was not.

"Alright! I'm coming!"

Emmeline trudged out of the lake, and was almost immediately smothered by the towel she'd brought. Aunt Vee vigorously scrubbed at her head, making her hair point in every direction, then wrapped the towel around her so tightly that she could hardly move. "Honestly you spend more time here than you do in the house. You'd think you'd swallowed gillyweed. And I do wish you wouldn't swim in your pajamas, Emmeline. You have swimsuits for a reason."

"I know." Emmeline shrugged, edging away from her godmother so she could dry her T-shirt and shorts properly. "But this way I only have to change once instead of changing twice."

"Well perhaps you ought to just sleep in your swimwear then."

"I will!"

Aunt Vee sighed in exasperation. "Just hurry up and dry off. After lunch, I want you to continue your history readings so we can talk about it over supper."

This time, Emmeline did not bother hiding her displeasure. She collapsed onto the ground, and groaned even as she grabbed her shoes. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, you have to."

"But history's boring."

"Emmeline…"

"It is! I'm not good at it. I can never remember which names go with who, or when anything happened."

"You'll get a lot better if you stick to your reading. Besides, I thought you wanted to be prepared for school."

Emmeline rammed her trainers onto her feet, resisting the urge to glower up at her guardian.

School had become something of a touchy subject for Emmeline over the last few weeks. Aunt Vee had raised her on stories of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—the most prestigious school of magic in the world. Witches and wizards from all over the country came to Hogwarts learn magic, to study magical history and creatures and plants. Students could explore the grounds, and play Quidditch, or just relax in their house common room with their friends.

To Emmeline, who'd grown up alone, the idea of Hogwarts was paradise. Ever since her tenth birthday, she'd been watching the window, waiting for her school letter to arrive. Her excitement grew with every month, then week, then day. By the time her birthday had rolled around, she was positively ready to explode. She'd celebrated her birthday with bated breath, one eye trained on the window for any owls that may be approaching from the horizon.

Then her birthday was over. And she still hadn't received her letter.

Every day that passed made her more irritated, more impatient. Aunt Vee had tried reassuring her. So many children went to Hogwarts each year that it was likely hard to keep track. There were hundreds of magical children all around the country, and not all of them would go to Hogwarts. There were plenty of reasons a letter might arrive late. She would get it when the time was right. In the meantime, there was no use treading a hole into the floor of the kitchen.

But frustration wasn't the only thing that was making her restless. Though Emmeline would never admit it, each new day brought another grain of fear to her mind. What if she wasn't going to Hogwarts? What if, despite everything she'd done and read, despite her family and her upbringing, she simply wasn't magical enough to attend?

It was a silly thought, and she knew it. Plenty of times in her childhood she had displayed the tell-tale signs of accidental magic. Sometimes flowers bloomed in circles around her feet. She'd made the lake water freeze in the middle of summer. She could jump a little too high to be normal, or hold her breath just a little too long. Besides, the Ministry of Magic had procedures in place for dealing with witches and wizards who simply didn't possess enough magic. If something was wrong with her, surely she would have known by now.

Still, the thought of Hogwarts kept her awake at night. It was the first thing she thought of when she woke up, when she was told to go back to bed, when she was waiting by the window, when she escaped to the lake. Talking about school so casually was torture for Emmeline, and Aunt Vee knew it.

"I don't care if I'm prepared," Emmeline said stiffly, finishing the bow of her right trainer with a particularly harsh tug. "I don't care about school anymore."

"Nonsense. Of course you do. And the less you have to worry about schoolwork, the more you'll be able to enjoy the castle grounds. You'll be thankful once you start your classes. Now come along, or there will be no lunch at all."

Emmeline frowned as she finished the laces on her shoe. That was supposing she every actually got to the castle, of course. In the meantime, reading about sorcerers' discoveries before the creation of plumbing was simply an extremely boring way to pass the time.

The walk back to the house was not a short one. Though Emmeline made the trip nearly every day, it was easy to forget just how far the lake was. They made their way down the narrow trail through the woods, weaving between tall trees and ducking under low hanging branches. Once they'd made it out of the forest, there was only field—tall grass in every direction they looked. But years of walking had worn a makeshift path into the ground. This ensured that Emmeline never wandered off in the wrong direction, though she was certain she would be able to walk to the lake and back with her eyes closed.

Finally, their house appeared on the horizon. It was a tiny thing, which Aunt Vee had dubbed Sebara Cottage. Not that it mattered much, as they hardly ever had visitors who needed to call the house anything at all. There was just enough room for Emmeline and Aunt Vee to live comfortably: two bedrooms and a bath, the study, the living room, and the kitchen. They had a large garden out the back door, teeming with all kinds of life. There were potatoes and cabbage, all sorts of vegetables to use as food, and a number of plants Aunt Vee kept purely for pleasure. A large flutterby bush nearly eclipsed the side of the house, and painted cauldrons dotted the grass under the fence. Their large yellow and red blossoms gleamed in the sun, burping the occasional bubble into the air.

Emmeline hung her towel on the fence, then followed Aunt Vee into the house. She pried her trainers off without undoing the laces, leaving them in a heap by the back door. A plate of steak sandwiches was waiting on the kitchen counter, cooled during the long walk from the lake. Emmeline climbed into her chair, choosing a sandwich carefully and holding it out to her godmother. Aunt Vee flicked her wand absently, and Emmeline felt the bread warm under her fingers. Satisfied, she tucked into her meal.

Aunt Vee disappeared down the hall, and returned a few moments later with a tray of papers. There were packets of all different sizes, sealed envelopes, brightly colored memos that twitched where they lay, making the whole pile tremble. Emmeline had always been fascinated by Aunt Vee's work tray. It was bewitched to send her the papers people dropped in her office at the Ministry of Magic. As Emmeline watched, another envelope materialized on top of the pile, stamped with the word "CONFIDENTIAL."

Aunt Vee worked in the Aurors' office, which meant that she dedicated her life to protecting the wizarding community and stopping dark wizards. In her prime, she had been one of the best—fearless in battle, formidable with a wand, and always on top of her paperwork. Of course, things had changed when she'd adopted Emmeline.

Now she worked from home, only reporting to the office when there was a particularly important meeting or raid. She'd petitioned the Department of Magical Transportation for a private connection on the Floo Network due to their "unique security situation." That wouldn't work for most Ministry employees, but Aunt Vee had enough connections to pull it off. She could hop from the living room to her office in a tick, and never had to worry about intruders coming the other way around.

"Ah-nehthin' intah-restin?" Emmeline asked around mouthfuls of bread.

Aunt Vee sighed, placing the stack of papers on the counter across from Emmeline. "Interesting may not be the best word for it. I've got about fifteen different security requests to review, and another case file Jalyah sent in. He's completely botched it, again, which means I'm going to have to refile. And then—oh, for Merlin's sake, Kingsley!"

A large purple envelope materialized onto the top of the pile with a loud crack. Emmeline nearly dropped her sandwich in surprise, but Aunt Vee hardly batted an eye. She discarded the file she was reading, tearing open the new letter and scanning through it quickly. Her eyes grew stonier with every word, and a flicker of worry flashed across her face.

"What's wrong?" asked Emmeline.

But Aunt Vee shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing to worry about. But I'm going to have to go into the office for a bit. He makes a good point. If the boy's turning eleven, we'll have to increase their protection. There's bound to be trouble, I don't care what Fudge thinks."

"If who's turning eleven?"

"Never you mind. Now, finish your lunch and then get back to your reading. And I'll know if you haven't done it! We'll be talking about the chapter over supper."

"I won't be able to talk about it even if I do read it," Emmeline complained. "I can never remember anything!"

"Well then maybe you ought to be taking notes," Aunt Vee said with a knowing smile.

Emmeline frowned, and took a large bite of her sandwich.

Aunt Vee kissed one of her bulging cheeks, and swept all of her paperwork under arm. With a twirl of her wand, her pointed hat came zooming from her study. It perched on top of her head, the decorative feathers making it look rather like a blue jay nesting in her hair.

"Behave yourself, and I'll see you in a few hours."

"Can you bring back pumpkin pasties for dessert?"

"I'll see what I can find. But only if you've finished your work. Goodbye, darling."

She dipped her hand into the large pot on the mantle, taking just a pinch of the contents. The powder exploded in the flames, and the whole room was filled with emerald light.

"The office of Emmeline Vance, Ministry of Magic," Aunt Vee said clearly. Then she stepped into the fire, and a moment later, she was gone.

The room returned to normal, nothing but a few jade embers glittering in the fireplace. The birds chirped loudly outside, and the melodicius clematis hummed from their trellis on the window sill. But to Emmeline, the house couldn't have been quieter.

She turned back to her plate and finished her sandwich. When she was done with it, she ate another one, and then another after that. She wasn't particularly hungry, but eating gave her something to do. It was certainly more enjoyable than the reading that awaited her after lunch.

When Emmeline began to feel queasy from steak sandwiches, she covered the platter and placed her dish in the sink. She could avoid her work no longer.

Emmeline walked down the hall to her bedroom. It was small, but cozy. The pale yellow walls reflected the sunshine outside, covered in one or two places by large posters she'd hung up. Most of them simply depicted landscapes—a snowy countryside, a shimmering seashore, a marshy clearing in the middle of the jungle. Her favorite poster hung over her bed, a well-kept Quidditch pitch dotted with the scarlet robes of the Holyhead Harpies. This was the poster she had gotten first. Then, tired of watching the red dots bounce around inside their frame, she'd requested the other posters to give them all something a bit more exciting to do. Now the team could hold practice on the pitch or in the mountains, and they all seemed happier for it.

The team flew around the room in formation, several of them waving to Emmeline when she walked in. She waved back, pausing to watch them as they passed from landscape to landscape. The heavy winds in the country blizzard threatened to knock them off course for a few seconds, but they hurried onto the beach and made a quick landing, safe and sound.

Underneath the window, a large desk sat covered in papers. Emmeline hardly ever used her desk as anything but a discard table. Here lay several half-read novels and unfinished drawings, rolls of beautiful quills she could never bring herself to actually put to use, and a large textbook, forlorn on top of the rubbish. Its leather binding was worn, but the title was still legible on the cover—Discoveries that Pre-Date Dates: A Brief Analysis of the Foundations of Magic, Its Earliest Uses, the First Wizards, and the Foundation of Society. The book was over a thousand pages, with colorful flags sticking out at the edges to divide it into more manageable sections. She hadn't even read half of them.

Reluctantly, Emmeline grabbed the book, as well as a quill and some parchment. She fell back onto her bed, and shot back up again.

Several things happened at once. A yowl pierced through the air, and something orange and white leapt from the bed and streaked through the air. There was a thud, followed by a bang as the blur ran directly into the broomstick that had been propped up against the wall. The broom fell to the floor with the clatter, and the blur rocketed in the opposite direction, running into the hallway and meowing in protest.

"Sorry, Humphrey!" called Emmeline. But the tabby cat was long gone.

Humphrey was the kind of cat who naturally looked grumpy. His orange and white fur created markings over his yellow eyes that looked like a pair of furrowed eyebrows. And indeed, he usually was grumpy, especially when he was woken up from a nap. He often took to hiding in empty rooms, or curling up on Emmeline's bed where he blended in with her quilt. Temperamental as Humphrey was, she knew that he would be back within the hour, curled up at her feet as she desperately looked for another way not to do her homework. Humphrey had always had a soft spot for Emmeline.

They had gotten him when she was about six, and Aunt Vee had taken her to Diagon Alley for her birthday. They'd bought her a set of pretty quills, and a toy snitch that wouldn't fly too far from the house. Then they'd stopped at an ice cream parlor for a treat, only to find it swarmed with people on a summer's day. The line had gone out the door and into the street, but Emmeline begged and begged until Aunt Vee agreed to wait.

Over the next twenty minutes, they inched past shop after shop. Emmeline peered into every window, fascinated by robes that billowed without wind, cauldrons that stirred their contents all on their own, and best of all, a pen of cats pawing at a ray of sun on the ground.

Emmeline didn't think twice about ducking into the store. Creatures of all sorts screeched and cooed and hummed. But Emmeline only had eyes for the cat she'd seen from the window. He seemed to sense her watching him, and abandoned the sun spot as soon as she walked over. He leapt the barrier of the pen with surprising agility, and let her stroke his fur without the slightest complaint.

Aunt Vee had been furious at her for running off, of course. She'd come storming in a minute later in a full panic, railing about how anything could have happened to her. What if she'd been taken or hurt or lost? But Emmeline was unfazed. All she cared about was bringing the cat home, even if it meant no ice cream, no gifts, and no visits to the lake for the rest of her life.

After several minutes, Aunt Vee had calmed down. She'd purchased Humphrey from the very shaken witch behind the counter, and taken Emmeline straight home. It was the last time they'd ever gone on an outing.

Emmeline turned the textbook over in her hands, eyeing her fallen broomstick hungrily. It was a gorgeous, sunny day outside. If Aunt Vee's meeting ran long, she might have time to fly and do her reading…

But no. She knew she shouldn't be testing herself today. It was best to do the reading first, or there would be hell to pay at supper. She could always ask Aunt Vee to take her on a night-fly if the skies were still clear.

Resigned, she curled up on the bed, laying the parchment out on her quilt and balancing her inkwell on her bedside table. She took a moment to glare at the word "brief" in the title, then heaved the volume open to a new section.

"Antiquated Sorcery," Emmeline read aloud, her nose scrunching up in distaste. "Magic's Use in Classical Antiquity, the Key Players, and a Separation of Myth from Matter."

Humphrey peeked his head back into the room, and after a brief assessment of the surroundings, jumped up onto the end of the bed. He blinked at Emmeline, then down at the book. His face mimicked her distaste as well as any cat's could.

Emmeline propped her elbows on her knees, resting her chin in her hands. Then she leaned forward, and started to read.

It was dull work. The names blurred together on the page, and several times she had to backtrack or check her notes to remember what year she was reading about. Organized notes became idle doodles, which were dutifully crossed out as she tried with all her might to keep her brain on the task at hand. Circe and Medea. These names she knew. She'd collected enough chocolate frog cards to keep them straight, and she knew the basics. But she kept mixing up Hecate and Heqet, and the explanation of the demigod concept was so technical, she'd had to read it ten times before she could make it through the passage without her eyes crossing. Even then, she had no idea what she was reading. She sincerely hoped her school textbooks wouldn't be as advanced as the books Aunt Vee gave her. If they were, it wouldn't matter how much she'd tried to prepare. She'd be shipped back home before the first week was out.

Emmeline had expected turning the final page to fill her with a sense of relief. Whatever she'd read, it was done, and she was free to spend the rest of the day however she liked. Instead, she was unable to shake her feelings of frustration. She just couldn't understand why she didn't understand it. She'd done everything as Aunt Vee had told her to—read the pages, reread passages she had trouble with, taken notes—and she still couldn't be certain what the point was. Aunt Vee could be home from her meeting at any minute, looking for an in-depth discussion of the chapter, and Emmeline would have to tell her the same thing she'd said when she left. She just couldn't do it.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked miserably.

Humphrey lifted his head, stretching at his leisure. He padded up the bed and laid down again, his body pressed against Emmeline's thigh. She pouted and scratched the top of his head. Humphrey purred, his eyes squeezing shut and his tail perking up into the air. Emmeline giggled.

"Of course you're happy. Cats don't have to do homework. You don't have to do any work at all."

This seemed to please Humphrey. His tongue peeked out of his mouth and he stretched his striped arms out to their fullest extent. With a glimpse of claw, his white paw patted the book.

"Alright," Emmeline sighed. "But I blame you."

She turned back to the book, flipping back to the beginning of the chapter. The she pulled Humphrey into her lap, and set about reading the horrible section all over again.

Two rereads and several hours later, Emmeline found herself sitting on the living room floor surrounded by books. She'd had to pull two or three from the shelves to look up words she didn't know, or get more information on a reference that was being made. She still didn't understand a lot of the chapter, but it was a start. At the very least, she would be able to ask a few well-informed questions. Then Aunt Vee would be able to explain things to her in a way she would understand.

Aunt Vee, however, was nowhere to be found. The sun had already dropped low behind the horizon, and the sky was turning a deep, cobalt blue. The moon shone down like a gaping hole in the sky, the stars clustered pinpricks dancing around it. Humphrey had already complained his way into an early dinner. He'd plopped down on top of Emmeline's textbook until she agreed to take a break and feed him. Still, it was getting late, and Emmeline was getting worried.

She busied herself with putting the books away, sliding them into the correct spots on the shelves and shifting them until they were all perfectly aligned. She collected her notes into a neat pile, and stowed the ink and quill back on her desk. She cleaned Humphrey's bowl, lit all of the lanterns in the main room, and made sure all the windows and doors were locked. And then she sat on the couch and stared directly into the fireplace.

The pot of Floo powder sat innocently on the mantle. Its contents glittered in the low light of the flames.

Emmeline had only travelled by Floo a handful of times in her life, and they were some of the only times she'd travelled at all. When she was very young, Aunt Vee had sometimes taken her to the Ministry of Magic while she had to work. There was a daycare for witches and wizards in their situation—single parents and guardians who, for one reason or another, could not leave their children at home. But Aunt Vee had never checked Emmeline into daycare. She had kept Emmeline with her as often as she could, and in the rare case she had a meeting that Emmeline could not attend, Aunt Vee grudgingly passed Emmeline off to one a few trusted coworkers.

Emmeline could hardly remember any of this. She had a few foggy memories of coloring in various offices, large, burly men watching her from their desks. But the men didn't scare Emmeline. They were stern, just like Aunt Vee, but that didn't make them mean. It just made them serious. Sometimes they would even put on music for her, casting spells so only she could hear it, and drowning out whatever dark and dismal conversations the adults were having in the room.

But Emmeline hadn't been to the Ministry in years. Now she was old enough to stay home alone, working on her studies whenever Aunt Vee had to pop into the office. She was old enough to know what she could and couldn't do. Responsible.

Still, every now and then, Emmeline longed for a chance to be irresponsible. Perhaps if Aunt Vee didn't feel confident leaving Emmeline home alone, she would bring her back to the Ministry. She could go back to coloring in offices, or peeking out of doorways as the memo-owls screeched in the hallways, swooping down on unsuspecting workers who were holding their lunch pastries just a bit too high. Even if she was confined to one room, it would be nice for a change of scenery.

And then, she would come back to her senses. She would never break Aunt Vee's trust like that. Her godmother was all she had in the world. Her godmother, Humphrey, and the family of rabbits that lived in the garden. If Emmeline violated that bond, she would lose her entire universe.

Emmeline looked out the window again. The sky was growing darker, and it was long past dinnertime. Usually Aunt Vee would send a message if her meeting was going to run long. But a quick glance at the memo bin showed no new papers, for Emmeline or otherwise.

The knot of worry tightened in Emmeline's stomach. She would wait another thirty minutes. If she still hadn't heard from Aunt Vee, she would Floo herself to the Ministry. If something was wrong, she had every right to know, and Aunt Vee would certainly want her closer to people who could offer protection.

Thankfully, it didn't come to that. About fifteen minutes after Emmeline sat down, the fireplace filled with emerald flames once more. Aunt Vee rushed out, scanning the room with razor sharp eyes. Her wand was held aloft, ready to shoot off a curse at a moment's notice. It appeared she and Emmeline had both been assuming the worst.

Aunt Vee's gaze finally came to rest on Emmeline, and she instantly relaxed. "Oh thank goodness. I'm so sorry, my dear. I'm so, so sorry I'm late!"

She opened her arms, and Emmeline jumped off the couch and ran over to her. She buried her face in the dark blue robes, hugging her godmother and holding on tight. "What took you so long?"

"Well, what Kingsley neglected to mention was that I actually had two meetings. It was very sudden, which was why I couldn't send word. One meeting was in my office and the other was—erm, a bit further."

Emmeline pulled away from the hug, looking up with wide eyes. "How far was it? Did you leave the country?"

"As a matter of fact, I did." Aunt Vee bent down to kiss Emmeline's forehead, and pulled back with a wide smile. "I had to go see someone very important about his job. I told him our meeting would have to be rather quick, because I had a very bored little girl waiting for me at home. And when our meeting ran long, that very important person told me to bring this home for her. He's very sorry I had to miss supper."

Aunt Vee pulled a large basket out from behind her back. It seemed heavy, though the contents were hidden under folds of purple fabric. Emmeline pushed the fabric aside, and was immediately bombarded with the most delicious scent she had ever smelled in her life. The basket had been filled to the brim with food—small pies with golden crusts, bunches of grapes, fluffy dinner rolls, a flagon of what appeared to be pumpkin juice, a tin of roasted vegetables, and underneath it all…

Emmeline gasped as she pushed the grapes aside. "Pumpkin pasties!"

"I may have mentioned that they were your favorite," Aunt Vee said with a chuckle. "Now let's tuck in."

She rested the basket on the counter, spinning round to the cabinets to fetch plates and glasses. Emmeline climbed into her chair, then stood up on top of it. She peered into the basket, examining the pies closely. They were delicate, and intricately decorated. The slices in the crust were all equidistant, and right on top of each, there was another piece of dough branded with a dark letter H.

Emmeline narrowed her eyes at Aunt Vee's back. "You said you left the country. Where did you go?"

"Um, north," she said absently.

"Did you leave the country or did you leave the countryside?"

"A bit of both."

"Who was your meeting with?"

"I told you, a very important—"

"Who was the very important person?"

"I think the real question is whether or not you got all of your reading done."

Aunt Vee turned around with a knowing smile, and Emmeline pouted. Clearly, she would not be receiving any answers on the subject.

Emmeline slid off her chair, marching to her room to retrieve her stack of reading notes. She slammed them down on the kitchen counter and slid them towards her godmother with the air of a veteran poker player. Then, her chin held high, she said, "Ask me anything you like."

Aunt Vee, in turn, looked down her nose at the papers. With a flick of her wand, she summoned her glasses from her study, and perched them on the tip of her nose. A few seconds passed in tense silence as she looked through the papers. Then, her lips in a fine line, she turned back to Emmeline.

"Well, this all appears in order. I just have one question to ask you."

"Yes?"

"Would you like any of these pies, or shall we skip straight to the pasties?"

Emmeline beamed. "Really?"

"Yes, I think so. By the looks of this, you and I have both had a long day of work. Right now all I want is to curl up with my goddaughter and have some dessert."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Emmeline jumped out of her seat, rushing around the counter to hug her godmother tightly.

Aunt Vee was thrown by the impact, but quickly recovered. She laughed, stroking Emmeline's hair and kissing the top of her head. "You're welcome, darling. Now, why don't you go wash up and I'll pour us some pumpkin juice."

Emmeline nodded fervently, and darted out of the room, calling back over her shoulder, "Love you, Aunt Vee!"

Emmeline Vance watched her goddaughter go, smiling—albeit a bit sadly. She was growing up so quickly. Already eleven, and about to go out into the world. Vance had done her best to protect her. She had, at times, perhaps done too much. But soon everything would be changing. Emmeline would leave, and Vance would not be able to shelter her in the four walls of their tiny house in the field.

Still, Hogwarts would be safe for her. They'd just gone over the school's new security plans, which Dumbledore had agreed to bolster. It gave Vance some peace of mind knowing that he was smarter than Fudge. This year could prove particularly dangerous for the students. There had been rumors flitting around her department for months. Not that anyone wanted to believe them, but Vance had vowed not to take her chances. Once Harry Potter started at Hogwarts, there was no telling what could happen.

Vance put that thought to the side. She poured two glasses of pumpkin juice, listening to Emmeline hum as she washed her hands down the hall. There was still some time before she went off to school. She would just have to make the most of it.

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter and note. Welcome to any new readers, and welcome back to any returning. And a special shoutout to my incredible friend Lee for line-editing these chapters for me. Your patience knows no bounds. I love you.

Obviously, I've been sitting with the idea of doing a Harry Potter fanfiction since I was, oh, 10? I'm finally happy enough with what I have that I'm ready to share it with all of you. I will be attempting to publish both this story and my Supernatural story, Gospel of the Chosen, simultaneously. That will make it the first time I'll be publishing twice a week since about 2013 haha. So please be patient as I try and get everything formatted and posted on time.

Provenance will update every Friday. This story is rated K+, and will stay as close to the feel and themes of the Harry Potter series as I can manage. In the unlikely event a chapter contains anything I consider to be especially sensitive, I will add a trigger warning at the beginning of the chapter. If there's anything specific you feel should be tagged, please let me know. For visual aids, playlists, and additional content, you can visit this story's tumblr page at provenanceseries.

Again, thank you for reading, and I cannot wait to hear what you think!

-Brittney