Chapter One – The Revelation
A sharp rapping sound jolted her out of her slumber.
She had been having such a lovely dream, too. If she strained to remember, she could just about make out waves lapping at the shoreline, sharp pebbles and sand under her toes…
The rapping continued, louder.
"I'm coming!" she grunted, swinging her legs out of bed and grabbing a hoodie to cover her ratty pyjamas. Her housemate was either at work or suffering an awful hangover, so it would fall to her to answer the door. She shuffled quickly into the kitchen to flick on the kettle in the dingy kitchen before heading to the door. She checked the time on the oven on her way. It was just before nine, so she hadn't managed to have the indulgent lie-in until midday on her day off as she'd hoped. Whoever the insistent knocker at the door was, they had better have a good reason to interrupt her precious slumber.
She nearly slipped on the threadbare rug in the hallway in her haste. Post-student living left something to be desired, especially between the budget of a university drop-out (her) and someone who refused to keep a job (her housemate). She and Jonny had begrudgingly worked together to make the house as homely as possible, but there was only so much charity shop finds and droopy plants could do.
A sharp rap just as she touched the door handle made her jump out of her skin. She yanked the door open, frowning.
A rather prim looking woman stood before her, hands clasped in a way that would have seemed polite if the same person hadn't been trying to break her door down a few moments ago. The woman wore spectacles, a strange sort of dressing gown that didn't have a tie around the waist and looked far too posh to only be worn around the house, and a wide brimmed pointy hat. The woman raised an eyebrow in a way that made her feel extremely uncomfortable and guilty for not getting to the door sooner. She almost felt like she was back in school.
"Cecily Greene," The woman said her name like a question, but looked like she had already made up her mind. Cecily nodded. "My name is Minerva McGonagall. May I come in?"
"Um," Cecily replied, eloquently.
"It's an important matter, but I don't plan to take up more of your time than necessary. I'm sure you're very busy." The woman with the strange name persisted, her glance at Cecily's messy hair and obvious pyjama bottoms revealing that she did not, in fact, believe Cecily was very busy at all.
"Sure?"
McGonagall gave a quick nod of her head before sweeping through the door.
"Uh, kitchen's through here. I've just put the kettle on if you want a tea?" Cecily offered, shutting the door hesitantly and leading the woman through the house. "I've got basic PG Tips, but also ginger and turmeric."
"That would be lovely, thank you." McGonagall's mouth twitched slightly, sitting on one of the three non-matching chairs (not the white plastic garden chair) that circled the dining table. She took off her tall hat and delicately placed it on her lap. Cecily felt awkward about the state of the house, trying to subtly tidy up as she busied herself with mugs and teabags. Despite her and Jonny not getting along at all, they had a sort of silent agreement about keeping the house clean, but they were both messy people so the shiny wiped surfaces were littered with junk mail and other general tat.
Minerva McGonagall didn't make an attempt at conversation until her drink was placed in front of her, an old envelope being used as a placemat. A carton of milk and bag of sugar joined her beverage at the table. She didn't move to touch it. Cecily sat across from her.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here, and I see no reason to keep you in the dark longer than necessary. What I am about to tell you may come as a bit of a shock, but I ask you to please hear me out," McGonagall began. Cecily's brows were knotted in a confused frown, but she nodded her understanding, curious as to what this woman could possibly have to say to her.
"Firstly, I'm here to inform you that you are a witch-" Cecily had been taking a sip of tea and nearly choked. A bit came out of her nose. McGonagall continued as if there was no interruption. "Usually, muggle-born witches and wizards are informed of their magical capability when they are around ten or eleven, when they are invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. However, the Wizarding World has been amidst a great war, and the Ministry thought it prudent to hide many muggle-borns out of concern for their safety. We have spent the last decade or so seeking out those who missed out on their education."
"A witch?" Cecily didn't know whether to laugh or cry. This was either some kind of joke, or she had invited a lunatic into her house. "Did Jonny put you up to this?"
"I know this is difficult to take in, so I will show you I am being completely serious." McGonagall stood, placing her hat back on her head, before she suddenly started… melting? Alarmed, Cecily jumped up, the white garden chair tipping over behind her before hitting the floor with a pathetic clatter. Perhaps McGonagall wasn't melting, but she was definitely getting smaller, and furrier. Before Cecily was no longer the strange, stern woman, but a strange, stern tabby cat. In a pointy hat. The room started spinning a little. Cecily slowly picked up the plastic chair she had knocked over and sat down heavily. The cat blinked at her slowly, before enlarging in size until it was a woman again.
"W-what," Cecily began, spluttering. "A cat?"
"My animagus form," McGonagall replied. Cecily nodded dumbly, as if animagus was a term she'd heard of before. "I hope that you now believe that magic is indeed real, and that you are a witch and belong in our world, should you choose to join it."
"I guess I can't argue that magic is real after seeing that," Cecily conceded, shaking her head slightly. "but I'm definitely not a witch. I can't turn into an animal or anything, I didn't even finish University, and I work in a fast food joint. Magic is the opposite of me."
"Becoming an animagus is a magic that takes a lot of work, not many people choose to go down that route. But that is only one form of magic. I'm sure you've managed to do things before, make things happen when you've been emotional or scared," McGonagall encouraged. Cecily guessed McGonagall was trying to prompt her into revealing some huge, hidden mysterious powers. She hated to disappoint.
"I haven't. I wish I had, this seems super cool and all that, but I've never done anything magical in my life."
"Regardless, you're on our records as a witch and these forms can't be fooled. If you can trust me, I can give you instructions on how to get to Diagon Alley, and a list of beginner magic items and books for you to read to inform yourself. I can help you exchange your muggle money for Wizarding money. I know you have a life here, in the non-magical world, but it's only fair you are given a choice and told the truth. Unfortunately, we can't offer you a place at Hogwarts. But you can teach yourself, hire tutors, learn magic in your own time, find yourself a job within the magical community. It is up to you." Cecily bit her lip, hard.
"Are you sure I'm a witch? What if I come with you and then it turns out to be some huge mistake?" McGongall's mouth twitched again. Cecily guessed it was as close as she was going to get to a smile, so took it as a positive.
"Certain."
"Then I guess I'll come."
Apparently instructions on how to get to Diagon Alley, a few lists, and assistance with exchanging her dismal savings into Wizarding currency was pretty much all the help Cecily was getting. McGonagall had expressed her regrets, but had other witches and wizards to track down, as well as running the magic school as Headmistress. After assisting Cecily with opening an account at Gringotts, (ran by goblins, which both terrified and amazed Cecily) she had disappeared with a loud crack.
Cecily was alone in a magical town. The streets sprawled around her, bustling with shoppers. They mostly wore robes similar to what McGonagall was wearing. The shopping list she had been given suggested Cecily buy some of these too, but she saw no point since her regular jeans and jumpers would do the trick just fine. Magic was awesome, and she was glad she had somehow stumbled into this world she knew nothing of before, but she felt like changing her entire wardrobe would be like playing dress-up and she wasn't a kid anymore, but a twenty four year old woman.
Cecily had gone to University for lack of knowing what on earth she wanted to do with her life, not to pursue a dream job. She had studied art, she'd always been decent at drawing and knew she didn't have the motivation to study anything more academic. She enjoyed it to begin with, feeling almost as if she had found a cheat code for life. She was living alone (kind of, with house mates, but no parents!) and she was painting and sketching every day, and she would get a bit of paper at the end with a grade and she would have a degree! Simple! Or, so she'd thought. Her student debts had weighed down on her, and she began to panic about what her plans were for when she finished school and how she would pay them back. In this panic, she had dropped out with six months to go and got a job as a server. Not her most brilliant decision, but it had made her feel better at the time, and she had told herself it was just for a bit, until she figured out a plan. 'A bit' had turned into a while, and then a few years. She needed the cash desperately anyway, for rent and medical costs, and her meagre student loan had only stretched so far, so she had convinced herself she didn't mind so much.
McGonagall had mentioned something about her medication, Cecily suddenly remembered. Apparently she would be able to take potions for her chronic early-onset arthritis, and they would be far more effective than her current muggle medicines. The Headmistress had given her a slip of paper with a name and an address for when her current stock had ran out. That gave her around three weeks to settle down and figure out exactly what the hell she was doing.
Cecily looked down at the crumpled list in her hand. Books, lots of books. A trunk for the books. Robes (Cecily mentally crossed that one out), a cauldron, potion supplies… and a wand. That certainly seemed like the most exciting part, so she would save that for last, as a sort of motivator to get everything done today. She had also decided she wanted to move somewhere occupied by magical folk, to expose herself to the world more. So house hunting was in order as well. And job hunting. Today was going to be extremely busy. Anxiety began to well up inside her stomach, but she squashed it down as best she could, deciding to focus on one problem at a time. She shifted her backpacks straps. McGonagall had shrunk down the few of her belongings, telling her as soon as she placed them on the floor they would return to their normal size and weight, this was just the easier way of carrying things until she had a place to stay. She'd given her another list then, of cheaper properties for rent in the area, a few of which she had arranged viewings for that afternoon.
She took a deep breath, counted to ten, and began shopping.
"Well? What do you think?" the grumpy wizard demanded, standing by the door of the tiny flat. It was the final property Cecily had looked at, and by far the best, although that wasn't saying much. The places she had viewed were cheap for a reason, she guessed. She didn't need a palace, but somewhere without mould and rats would obviously be ideal. This latest flat was above a bookshop, next to which had an alleyway that lead to a courtyard and an iron spiral staircase (which was rickety as all hell and did not feel secure at all). At the top of the staircase was a door that had peeling blue paint. The flat was small, yes, but it felt cosy enough, and it was clean other than the dust and mothballs. It was comprised of only four rooms, the first being the largest and including the kitchen and living area in one. The next was a box room, intended as an office perhaps, which she could use for studying her magic. There was a bathroom, basic but functional. Lastly there was a bedroom, again small as anything, but enough room for a bed and a rail for her clothes.
"It's great. When can I move in?" The older man grinned gleefully, he seemed relieved.
"Today, if you can pay a month's rent upfront. You can set up a standing order at Gringotts, we'll send an owl with confirmation later. You'd have to do the cleaning yourself, at such short notice, of course." Cecily agreed eagerly. The keys were handed over, and the wizard left.
She looked around at her new home. It was overwhelming how much her life had changed suddenly, without warning. However, she felt like this was right. All her life she couldn't settle on a career, a home, a relationship. Nothing had seemed to fit or make sense. Now, despite having the rug pulled from beneath her and no clue what would happen next, she felt a sense of belonging she had never felt before. She dumped her trunk on the floor and swung her backpack off her back, and began to unpack. She had swiped the good kitchen utensils from her old house, sure that Jonny wouldn't mind since he lived on takeout, and sure she didn't care if he did mind anyway. As promised, as soon as they were put away they grew to their regular size. She hung her clothes on the rusty rail in the bedroom, basic and most importantly, comfy. Her toiletries and small collection of makeup filled the cabinet in the bathroom, looking very muggle and normal. She scattered her plants around the flat where there was the most sunlight.
Now for the exciting bit. She unclasped her trunk, and began to carefully pull out her new books. She had gotten most of them second hand, so she had more money to spend on extra reading. Obviously she had the basic potions and spell books, but also history books on the magical world. There was just so much to learn. Most surface area in the tiny flat was filled at this point, barely leaving enough room for her cauldron and potion ingredients, which she put away in the office space. She solemnly dubbed it the explosion room, before returning to the single item left in her trunk. Her wand.
Alder wood, with a core of dragon heartstring. 12 and ¾ inches. Unyielding flexibility. The wand seller, Ollivander, had told her all this as if it should mean something to her, but she was too busy staring at the newest addition to her arm to really take it all in. It had cost her seven Galleons (the gold ones, she had to remind herself) to procure this item that felt like it completely belonged in her hand. She had also bought a wand holster that was attached around her hips, like a sort of belt.
Eagerly, she grabbed a book from a shelf, the title proclaiming it a standard book of spells, and flipped it open to a random page. Skimming her eyes over the instructions, and sat on the floor cross legged and swished her wand.
"Lumos!"
Nothing happened. She tried not to feel disappointed. It was her first try after all, there was no way she would be able to do magic just like that. She supposed she got a bit ahead of herself. In Ollivander's, when she had picked her wand (or rather, when the wand had picker her), there had been a wave of light and wind. It only stood to reason that she would want to recreate that moment. She was now more determined than ever to study like mad whenever she had a free moment, but for now she had to find a job as soon as possible. Rent wasn't going to pay itself, after all. Luckily for her, the bookshop downstairs had a sign in the window claiming an opening.