Sept. 19th, 1979

„George!" Prudence Granger, who had woken with a start, shook her husband and switched on the bedside light . "George! It's starting!"

"What … how … when?" George stammered, blinking at the sudden light. "Oh my god!" he exclaimed when his wife's words had finally found their way into his brain. "Oh my god," he repeated, jumping out of bed, slipping on the carpet and almost splitting his head on the edge of the wardrobe, an acrobatic feat that made his wife smile. "Must get the ambulance at once!"

He scuttled out into the living room and picked up the phone. "St.Cuthbert's Hospital?" His voice was shrill in his own ears. "Yes, … my wife's having her baby! Please come at once … yes … hurry up please! … what? … oh, yes, … 7, Unicorn Drive … Dr. Granger … get a move on, will you?"

When he put down the phone, his hands were shaking. Pru, who had in the meantime put on some things and was standing in the bedroom door, walked over to him and gave him a quick hug.

"You're sweet when you get all nervous over me and the baby," she whispered in his ear. "But there's really no need, all the tests are fine, and everything's been going perfectly well. It's the most natural thing in the world; you're a doctor, you know that, don't you?"

"Yes," George muttered, holding her awkwardly. "But … I'm just  … I just love you so much …"

"I know," she said soothingly, "I know…" The pain of a contraction forced her down to the sofa and made her gasp a little. "I'm fine," she reassured, seeing the terrified expression in his eyes, "I'm just fine …"

The bell rang; glad to have something to do, George rushed to open the door and the ambulance men entered with their wheel chair.

"Good evening, sir!" one of the two men said, much to George's astonishment, who had imagined it to be long after midnight, and now realised that it was barely eleven. "Where's the young lady?"

They pushed their chair over to the sofa, where Pru was rising to meet them. "Hello, gentlemen," she said with that brave smile that George loved so much. "Nice of you to come so fast; let's go. No thank you, I can get in this chair by myself, I'm not an invalid. George, dear, the bag is in the kitchen next to the fridge, will you get it please? Oh, and darling, do you want to go in your pyjamas?" she added grinning at him.

Muttering something to himself, George fetched the bag and put on a coat over his pyjamas.

"Let's go!" he barked at the ambulance men who had been watching him silently, a look of quiet amusement on their faces.

And the ambulance sped off into the night.

*

"What a lovely little girl!" the doctor exclaimed when she put the baby in Pru's arms at exactly midnight. "And what a good child she is. Hardly ever find such a smooth birth as this one. Indeed, I've never seen one like yours considering she's your first. Usually takes much longer. Well, congratulations!"

"Aren't you wonderful?" Pru whispered lovingly. "Isn't she, George?"

George made some indistinct sound and stretched out his hand uncertainly.

"Come on, of course you can touch her; she won't break. In fact," she added mischievously, "you will have to do so quite often in the years to come, as I'm planning on being an emancipated mother."

George reached out to pat his daughter's head. "Do babies usually have such a lot of hair?" he asked at he same time feeling somewhat stupid because of his question.

"Not very often," the doctor answered. "Somehow I have a feeling she's going to be a very special child."

*

A faint scratching noise from her desk made Minerva McGonagall look up from her reading.

The noise was coming from a pink glowing quill that was writing all by itself on a piece of parchment.

The professor's face lit up as she rose from her chair to go over to the desk.

"A new magical baby," she said to herself, "how nice."

She took the piece of parchment and inspected it.

"Prudence and George Granger," she read, "7 Unicorn Drive, Greater Ashbury, Somerset; a girl born midnight 19th September. – Now this is very remarkable indeed, let's see…" she glanced at the astro-clock on the wall, "yes, it's the full moon, too, … I am sure this is going to be a very special child."