"Hayden!" My foster mother's voice carries up the stairs. I fight the urge to grab my bag as I leave my new room. I was just placed with this family a few weeks ago. Things seem to be going well, especially compared to my other placements. This house was finally starting to feel like home. Knowing my luck, the knock on the door was the case worker stopping by to take me to a new family. I shake my head, Laila had told me that I didn't need to worry every time there was a knock on the door.
I walk down the hallway, down the stairs, and then through the entry way towards the living room. I pause when I pass by the mirror. I try to control my red curly hair, but fail. No matter what anyone tried, the curls couldn't be controlled. One of my first foster parents tried to shave my head. I woke up with hair down at my shoulders the next day.
"Hayden?" Laila calls again. I see my cheeks redden in the mirror, my freckles looking darker than normal. I ignore the burning in my face and turn towards the living room.
"Coming!" I finally call out. I turn the corner and walk into the small, cozy room. I give a sheepish smile. "Sorry."
"It's okay," Laila says, a small smile on her face. "Come sit down, you have a visitor." I turn to the couches only to freeze. There's an old man with long white hair and an almost longer beard sitting on the couch eating lemon heads. While wearing bright purple clothing. It's not a dress, but it's not a long shirt either. It looks like something out of the Lord of the Rings.
I follow Laila's lead and sit down with her across from the old man. He smiles at me, his half moon glasses sit halfway down his nose. Despite the awkward silence in the room, both the old man and Laila seem at ease.
"There's something I haven't told you, Hayden," Laila says, taking my attention away from the old man. I feel panic begin to well in my chest as I turn to look at her, but I force myself to remain calm on the outside.
"What's going on?" I finally ask, relieved when my voice doesn't shake.
"I know the reason you got a new caseworker," she says. I struggle not to blurt out all the questions that arise in my mind. "You were transferred to a different foster agency."
"A different foster agency?" I ask after a moment of silence. "But the state runs the foster agency, there's only one in Tennessee."
"You were moved to a federal agency," she says. I go to speak but she cuts me off. "It's one connected to your father."
"My father?" I ask, looking at her. Had Laila known him? All I knew was that he and my mother died in a car accident when I was a baby. I'd been in foster care ever since.
"Your father was a wizard." I pause for a second. I look back and forth between Laila and the old man, but both of them seem serious.
"I'm sorry, what?" I ask, thinking I'd heard her wrong.
"Your father was a wizard."
"And my mother was an elf," I finish. I hear a quiet chuckle from the old man and turn to look at him. His eyes practically twinkle as he looks at me.
"I must say, that is the first time I've heard that one before," he says. He has an accent. An accent unlike anything here in Tennessee.
"She's a fan of Lord of the Rings," Laila says, a small smile on her face as she looks at the man. "Laila, the agency sent a picture of your parents today."
"What?" I ask, my voice cracking. I've never seen a picture of my parents. Ever.
"Normally a magical child would grow up with a magical family," Laila says gently. "But MACUSA didn't have you on record to attend Ilvermorny."
"MACUSA? Ilvermorny?" I shake my head at the weird names.
"MACUSA is the Magical Congress of the United States of America," Laila says. "And Ilvermorny is the school all magical children in the United States go to."
"But I'm not on record to go, even though I'm supposedly a witch?"
"That is because your father was from England," the man says. I turn to look at him and feel my eyebrows raise. "He came to America to be with your mother."
"You knew him?" I ask quietly.
"Don't tell anyone," the old man says, a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes. "But he was one of my favorite students."
"Please don't tell me this is all a joke," I say as I look back and forth between the two adults in the room.
"It's not, sweetheart," Laila says. I feel tears pool in my eyes as I look down at my lap. "Here's the photo of your parents, I think it's enough proof to see that magic is real." I look up at Laila briefly before I look down at her hand. She passes a photo to me, and when I look down at it, I don't know what shocks me more.
The fact that the picture is moving, or the fact that I'm finally looking at my parents. A young man twirls a young woman around in the photo, both of them smile brightly at the camera. My father's face and arms are covered in freckles just like mine, and my mother's hair is just as curly as my own.
"Oh Hayden," I hear Laila whisper before I feel her arms around my shoulders. It's not until she wraps me in the hug that I realize I'm crying. My body shakes violently as I look at the black and white picture in front of me.
"You're a spitting image of your father," the man says with a smile as I start to calm down. "Although you got your curly hair from your mother."
"Was hers red too?" I ask through the sniffles.
"No," he smiles, "it was a deep mahogany. The red hair is definitely from your father."
"Why now?" I ask, wiping my eyes.
"It's the year of your eleventh birthday," the old man says. "It's time for you to go to school."
"I've been going to school," I deadpan. "And it sucks."
"Hayden!" Laila says, squeezing me a little tighter. I give her a small smile.
"You said I should tell the truth." Laila sighs as she leans back, her arms leaving my sides.
"You begin your magical education when you are eleven years old," the man says, his eyes twinkling like they had earlier.
"And dad went to the school you're from?"
"He did go to Hogwarts," the man says. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your mother was a muggle he met while in America during his mastery studies."
"Mastery studies?"
"You'll learn more about that later," the man waves his hand. "Your father was a talented magizoologist."
"A huh?"
"Someone who takes care of or studies magical creatures, like a zoologist," Laila says.
"And you're a teacher there?" I ask the old man. "At Hogwarts?"
"No, although I used to be," he says, a fond look on his face. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, I'm the headmaster."
"The head-huh?"
"Like a principal."
"Oh," I say. "It's nice to meet you Mr. Dumbledore." He waves his hand in the air, a smile on his face.
"Call me Professor Dumbledore." I look to Laila who shrugs.
"It's a UK thing, you'll get used to it."
"But how am I supposed to go to school in the UK if I live here?"
"Hogwarts is a boarding school, you'll live there during the school year," Laila says before grabbing my hand.
"So I have to leave here, too?" I ask, hating how small my voice sounds. I see tears in Laila's eyes as she looks down at me.
"You will, but I expect at least one letter a week," she says sternly. "And when you're done with school I expect a visit." The quiet ding of a watch echoes in the room and I turn to look at Mr.- Professor Dumbledore.
"Ah, it's about time for me to leave," he says. His tone is different, it's almost as if he's disappointed? "Professor McGonagall will come pick you up in a few weeks time, here is a letter of your acceptance to Hogwarts, I'm sure Laila can assist you in sending your letter confirming your attendance."
"Of course!" Laila smiles as she stands. Professor Dumbledore stands and I follow their lead. He hands me a letter with a red wax seal on the back.
"I look forward to seeing you at the start of the term, Miss Turner." There's a quick popping noise after he says the name.
When I look up from my letter, the man is gone. I look at Laila who shrugs, a large smile on her face.
"I've always heard he's quite eccentric."
My backpack was packed and sitting by the door when I woke up on August twenty fifth, exactly three weeks after the visit from the headmaster. The summer was spent outside at the local park during the day, and the nights were spent making blanket forts with my foster family. I had stayed up until midnight making sure I had everything I needed for a few days before school started - I even had a new leather journal Laila got for me to write in everyday.
Despite only going to bed at midnight, I was showered, dressed, and sitting on the couch by five in the morning. That didn't stop me from falling asleep sitting up around thirty minutes later. At seven I awoke when my foster sister, Olivia, jumped up on my lap. The four year old looked up with me with tears already falling, and I couldn't help crying myself. I wrapped my arms around her in a tight hug, laying my head on her head, her black curly hair tickling my cheek. I kiss the top of her head before standing up with her in my arms, carrying her into the kitchen and sitting down at the table.
Even though I had only been here for a few months, it was beginning to feel like I actually had a family. Just in time to go to another. Olivia distracts me from my thoughts as she climbs out of my lap quickly when she sees the pile of pancakes on the table.
"What am I, chopped liver?" I ask and Laila laughs as she sits down across from us, her brown skin a slight shade darker after spending all summer outside with me and Olivia. Olivia ignores my question and starts grabbing pieces of pancake that her mom had already cut up for her. I follow her lead and eat my pancakes quickly before helping Laila with the dishes. Before long all three of us went to the living room to watch Olivia's morning cartoons.
As soon as the clock hit nine, there was a knock on our front door. Laila immediately got up to answer it while Olivia tackled me in a hug. I laugh and hug her back before patting her head and standing up. I sit her back down on the couch before kneeling in front of her.
"Now, promise me you'll make tons of messes and wake them up super early?" I whisper to Olivia while holding out my pinkie finger. My foster dad was currently away on a work trip, but he always had a habit of sleeping in late. She giggles and nods her head while curling her pinkie around mine.
"Promise!"
"Promise what?" Laila asks, turning the corner with her hands on her hips.
"Nothing!" I say with a wide smile. "Now, be good Olivia, I'll write you letters every week!" I pinch her cheek lightly and walk over to Laila.
"Now why is it that I don't believe you were telling Olivia to behave herself before I came into the room?" Laila says as she pulls me into a hug.
"Honestly, the lack of trust in this household is ridiculous!" I laugh as we pull away.
"Try to behave yourself." She says, crossing her arms.
"I promise I'll try." I say.
"Merlin, help us." I hear a woman say. I look over to the doorway and see a tall woman with her black hair tied back in a bun. I smile at her and wave before I grab my backpack.
"You must be Professor McGonagall, it's nice to meet you!" I say and reach out to shake her hand. She returns the handshake and nods her head.
"Likewise, Miss Turner. Ready to go?" She asks while she pulls out a pocket watch to check the time.
"As I'll ever be."
"That's the spirit! We're on a strict time schedule so we must be heading out." She says as she walks back out the door. I turn to Laila and Olivia and wave with a smile.
"I'll send you a letter as soon as I can!"
"Be safe, Hayden." Laila calls as I move to shut the door. McGonagall was already halfway down the sidewalk when I shut the door. I rush to meet her and we walk in silence down the street before walking into a line of trees.
"How are we getting to Hogwarts?"
"We are not going to Hogwarts right now," she says looking down at me. "We are going to London to get you to your accommodation, and then we will get your supplies."
"They've got wizarding shops in London?" I say as she stops and pulls out the pocket watch.
"If you know where to look. Now, hold onto this pocket watch with me." I reach out and grab onto the chain of the watch.
"Why are we holding this?"
"This, Miss Turner, is a Portkey. This will take us to a park in London near the Leaky Cauldron. It is of utmost importance that you do not let go of this pocket watch until I tell you to do so." She says looking down her nose at me and I gulp before holding on to the chain more firmly. I couldn't even ask what would happen if I let go, as I felt a tugging in my stomach and the entire world went blurry before I closed my eyes.
The air around me seemed to be moving quickly and I felt lighter like I was falling. When I opened my eyes, I was, in fact, falling. The ground was coming closer too quickly and instead of landing on my feet like Professor McGonagall, I landed on my face in the grass, my arm up high in the air still holding onto the chain. "You can let go of the watch now, Miss Turner." McGonagall says with a small twitch of her lips, a ghost of a smile appearing on her face.
I try to smile up at her before letting go of the pocket watch, but I'm sure it was more of a grimace than anything else. The whole world was still spinning and I put my hands on my head to try to steady myself as I slowly sat up.
"You'll get used to it." McGonagall says as she reaches her hand down to help me up.
"I don't know if I even want to try." Is all I can manage as she pulls me up. She just shakes her head before walking down the small dirt path we were on. I roll my eyes and walk as fast as I can to catch up with her. Do all witches and wizards have a flair for dramatics like McGonagall and Dumbledore?
Soon enough we're in a bustling part of the city. I struggle to keep up with McGonagall. Honestly, did the woman have to be so quick? She was weaving in and out between people so quickly, almost like she's an alley cat.
Soon enough we make it to what looks like an old looking shop between a bookshop and a record store. Professor McGonagall holds the door open for me and I give her a confused look, but she pays me no mind. I let out a small sigh but follow her anyway. What's the worst that can happen?
When we enter the old shop, it's not an old shop at all. It's a dingy bar packed with people in weird clothing. They're all wearing robes of different colors, along with weird looking hats of all shapes and sizes. There are cups and plates floating throughout the room, and a man is stirring his drink by just twirling his finger in the air! Do witches and wizards just live like they're in Lord of the Rings?
"Miss Turner?" McGonagall asks, getting my attention.
"Sorry, professor." I say quickly moving to catch up to her. She leads me to the bar where she waves down the bartender.
"Ah, professor, what can I get for you today?" He asks, his bald head shines a little in the dim light and I have to stop myself from laughing.
"We need a room for Miss Turner until the new term begins." McGonagall says and the man looks down at me for a moment. He gives me a toothy smile and I give a tentative smile back. "Miss Turner, this is Tom the innkeeper here at the Leaky Cauldron."
"Nice to meet you, Hayden." He winks at me before looking back to the professor. How did he know my name? "I'll set her up a room, are you taking her to get her supplies?" As he asks this, a brown owl swoops down and sits on the professor's shoulder. It holds its leg out to her and she takes the piece of paper from it. She reads the letter quickly before looking back up to Tom.
"It looks like I won't be taking Miss Turner to get her supplies today." I feel my shoulders drop. Was I not being accepted to the school after all? Had they seen my past school records and decided I wasn't good enough to come? "I'm needed back at the castle, but Hagrid will be here tomorrow to retrieve Miss Turner." I feel myself relax a little at that. At least I was still going to be able to go to school. Plus it'd give me a chance to actually catch my breath.
"Alright, alright." Tom says, walking around the bar and planting a hand on my shoulder. "I'll get the kid up to her room, no need to worry, professor." She gives him a stern look before turning to me.
"Hagrid will be here tomorrow and will help you with your supplies. I will see you at the welcoming feast later this week." She nods down to me before walking over to the fireplace. Why isn't she leaving out the front door? Before I can turn to ask Tom, she throws something in the flames and steps inside! The flames turn green and a second later she's gone.
"Well, you coming or not?" Tom asks and I look up at him, still in shock. A look of understanding crosses his face as he crouches down to my level. "Sorry, kid. Forgot you weren't raised in the wizarding world like you were supposed to."
"Did you know my dad?" I ask, finally coming to my senses.
"I know everyone in wizarding Britain. The Cauldron's the way to Diagon Alley."
"What's Diagon Alley?"
"It's the shopping hub for witches and wizards. Just don't go down Knockturn Alley, it's trouble." I feel myself perk up at this and he immediately starts shaking his head as he stands up. "Not the good trouble, kid. That's at Gambol and Japes in Diagon Alley."
"Oh." He gives me a look before motioning for a set of stairs. "All the rooms are up here, kid." I move to follow him as he makes his way up the wooden staircase.
"What was it that Professor McGonagall did by the way?" I ask as we make a turn on the stairs.
"She used the floo to go to Hogwarts. It's a way of travel, toss some floo powder in the fire and say exactly where you want to go."
"Exactly." I repeat as we reach the top of the stairs.
"Exactly." He cracks a small smile before leading me down the hall and opening one of the doors. The room is the complete opposite of what the downstairs is like. It's perfectly clean, filled with nice looking dark wood furniture, and it even has a window looking out onto the street! "I'll send someone up when Hagrid gets here, but feel free to come back down if you get hungry." I feel my cheeks begin to heat up.
"Thank you, but I don't have any money yet to-"
"Don't worry about it kid, consider it an unpaid favor for your old man" he winks at me before shutting the door behind him. Just who was my dad? Why would Tom owe him a favor? I shrug my backpack off my back and put it down on the bed. I pull out my clothes and put them in some of the drawers in the room before finally sitting down on the bed.
I pull out my journal from Layla and grab the picture I'd placed in the front pocket. The picture of my mom and dad. They look so happy in the photo, both smiling, carefree at the camera. I feel burning in my eyes before I feel the wet tears make their way down my cheeks. I quickly put the picture back in my journal and slide it back into my bag. I put my bag at the end of the bed for tomorrow, I'd need something to carry my supplies in.
After all the traveling, tears, and the little sleep I'd gotten the night before, I feel myself falling asleep sitting up. I force myself to get up and change into my pajamas before I crawl into bed. The sun starts to set on the street outside, but I can't force myself to look out the window any longer. As soon as I close my eyes, the darkness of sleep takes me.