A/N: Revised as of July 28, 2005

Chapter Five: Hogwarts

Michaela and Mrs. Weasley walked out of Grimmauld Place to a less conspicuous location—while one could call the Knight Bus from virtually anywhere, it was better not to call attention to Grimmauld Place.

They walked down Custer Road for a few blocks, passing a park and what looked like an elementary school, or rather, as Michaela remembered the British school system, a "primary school." After walking for about fifteen minutes, Mrs. Weasley stopped and stuck out her wand. A moment later there was a loud BANG and the Knight Bus arrived.

Of course Michaela had heard of Knight Buses before, but had never ridden on any. It was a double-decker bus which gave Michaela a sort of thrill—she'd never been on one or seen one close up.

"To Hogwarts, please," said Mrs. Weasley stepping up.

"That'll be . . . erm, twenty Sickles for the both of yeh," said a wizard who didn't look too much older than Michaela herself. Michaela also noticed that it was harder to understand him because his accent had a more guttural tone to it.

Mrs. Weasley handed the money over as Michaela said, "I'll pay you back later . . . I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it dear." In an undertone, she added, "The Order has its own funds as well, you know."

"Are you an American then?" asked the wizard, ogling Michaela. She nodded. Before he could make another comment though, Mrs. Weasley whisked Michaela off to sit down.

There were plenty of chairs on the bus filled with various witches and wizards, but the chairs weren't bolted down. Therefore, the ride to Hogwarts was jerkier than any subway Michaela had ever been on. Each stop was abrupt, without warning, and Michaela fell off her seat two times before standing up, hands firmly attached to the rail. After the fourth stop, Mrs. Weasley joined her, standing.

"Is it always this jerky?" asked Michaela.

"Unfortunately, yes. Well, it's not all the conductor's fault; the bus has to maneuver around Muggle cars and buildings." True to what Mrs. Weasley said, Michaela looked out the window and saw the bus narrowly miss a huge dumpster in its effort to get ahead of the Muggle cars.

After about an hour (with repeated fallings of Michaela and Mrs. Weasley, despite their efforts to hold onto the rails), the conductor called out their stop and they walked out of the bus gratefully.

With another BANG, the bus was gone again ("Hope to see ya again Michaely!") and left them at the gates of Hogwarts.

Looking at her surroundings, Michaela couldn't help but cry out, "Oh, wow! It's so pretty!" Her mom had told her about Hogwarts, but she hadn't imagined that the grounds could be so big or so beautiful. Why, it made her feel as though she'd been transported back to the old-country England; certainly she'd never seen such sights in her hometown in California.

The rolling hills and the trees . . . and a lake and a forest . . . all with an enchanting castle in between . . .

The castle (for it couldn't be called anything else, in Michaela's opinion) was simply magnificent with its towers and turrets, almost as though it were out of a fairy tale. Just seeing it and feeling the wind rustle her hair made Michaela feel odd, she couldn't place quite place a feeling on it . . .

"It's the ages, Michaela. The people who have lived here; all of their experiences. You can feel all of it."

Michaela looked at Mrs. Weasley, startled. "Did I just talk out loud? I'm sorry."

Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Come on then."

They walked in silence to the main entrance door and Michaela reflected on what Mrs. Weasley had said. Yes, she could just imagine the grounds peppered with students, enjoying the sun, sitting by the lake, laughing and chattering. She felt a sudden pang of homesickness. She wished her friends were with her out here, basking in the sun and laughing and talking, with no worries. She closed her eyes, wishing, but wishes unfortunately do no good.

Mrs. Weasley and Michaela had just reached the main entrance steps when a woman who looked just past middle age opened the doors, standing serenely. She walked down the cemented steps to meet them.

"Hello Minerva," said Mrs. Weasley. "Michaela, this is Professor McGonagall; Minerva, this is Michaela Woodburn."

"Pleased to meet you," Michaela said politely. Michaela wasn't quite sure, but McGonagall looked like the kind of teacher that you didn't challenge or try to cross; there was no monkey business with this lady.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Woodburn. Professor Dumbledore has told me of your, erm, situation"—a look of sympathy came across her face and Michaela's opinion of her softened—"and has directed me to show you around before the other students arrive here for the start-of-term feast."

"Okay, sounds good."

"Michaela, would you like me to stay awhile longer with you?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"No, it's fine, but thanks for offering," said Michaela.

"Well, okay then, you be sure and write me if you need anything . . . and eat your breakfast!" she called as she went down off the steps.

Michaela laughed; Mrs. Weasley reminded her of her late grandmother who had felt that skipping a meal was second only to a mortal sin. She waved to Mrs. Weasley as she climbed up the steps with McGonagall through the entrance.

Once inside, Michaela gave another involuntary gasp of surprise. The first thought Michaela had was that it was so big—No, gigantic and colossal fit the bill better. During a second look, she noticed that there were several flaming torches hovering with no visible means of support, a plethora of animated portraits, and a marble floor was polished so that it was gleaming.

McGonagall gave her a small smile of amusement. "I take it you like our entrance hall?"

"Like it, it's wonderful! So big!" breathed Michaela. "I've never seen any entrance hall so big before, next to the Lincoln Memorial."

"The Lincoln Memorial?" asked McGonagall.

"Oh, it's just a monument in D.C. of one our past presidents who was key in keeping our nation together during the Civil War," quipped Michaela. She had learned something from her batty U.S. History teacher last year after all.

"Very . . . interesting, this way please." She led Michaela into another enormous room, but what amazed Michaela more about this one was that it looked like there was no ceiling, showing instead the weather outside. Even though it was sunny outside, Michaela didn't feel the heat of the rays and deduced that it must be bewitched to look like the outside instead.

"This is the Great Hall, where all the students and faculty eat," McGonagall said, waving her hand over the four long tables that were stretched across the hall. At the end of the tables on the other side was another long table facing the short way, where the faculty probably ate.

"So, one table for each house?" Michaela asked. McGonagall nodded. "So let's see, there's Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and . . . Huffpuff?"

"Hufflepuff, Miss Woodburn," corrected McGonagall. "Now I'm going to lead you to the Gryffindor Tower, which is where you'll stay while you're here. I believe Professor Dumbledore has gone up there as well to speak with you."

"Okay."

McGongall led Michaela up stairways, behind carpets, down stairways (which confused Michaela), and along corridors. They finally stopped in front of a picture of a rather fat lady in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she inquired.

"Mimbulus Mimbletonia," replied McGonagall. The portrait swung forward to allow them to enter a tunnel and then it clicked for Michaela.

"Oh! So you use the portraits as guards who respond only to the correct passwords . . . that's clever!" remarked Michaela.

They climbed through the tunnel and came out into a room full of comfortable-looking armchairs and sofas.

"This is the Gryffindor Common Room where most of the students spend their time doing homework or relaxing."

It certainly looked relaxing—Michaela knew she couldn't wait to sink into one of the soft, plush chairs that looked like a version of La-Z Boy. As they stood there gazing at the room, the portrait opened again and Dumbledore came in.

"Good afternoon, Minerva, Michaela," he said, nodding to each of them.

"I'll be in my office if you need me, Albus, and you too, Miss Woodburn, should there be a reason that you need my assistance," said McGonagall as she crossed the room to go out the portrait hole.

"Please, please, sit down Michaela. I must say that these chairs are most comfortable," he said, eyes twinkling.

Michaela sank comfortably in a chair, though her thoughts had abruptly turned a one-eighty. With the sight of her uncle, her relative, all of her worries came tumbling back. It wasn't as though she'd completely forgotten what had happened, but she had managed to push it to the back of her mind during the trip on the Knight Bus and during McGonagall's tour.

"Any news, leads?" she asked, anxiously. She cast a look at Dumbledore's ring, which had now turned a pale red . . . whether that was a good sign or a bad one, Michaela didn't know and wasn't so sure that she wanted to know.

"A few of my contacts are on some leads right now, but I'm afraid that there's not much else to tell."

Disappointment flooded Michaela.

"But we do have hope and that is a magic beyond any other."

Reluctantly, Michaela nodded. "So until later I'll stay here?" Later meaning when her parents were found either alive or dead; Michaela couldn't bear to say the words.

"Yes, I thought it appropriate enough; you'll know that your mother was in Gryffindor years back," Dumbledore said.

"Yeah, she told me all about Hogwarts . . . but still, there's so much that I didn't know of—it's amazing!"

Dumbledore smiled. "I'm glad you like it already. I myself enjoy every year that I stay here." Dumbledore gave off a look of one remembering his fondest memories. "But onto other things. Since no one else but people of the Order are to know about your true reasons for staying here, I'll put you in Miss Granger (that is, Hermione Granger)'s dormitory. She was there at Grimmauld Place last night, when everyone woke up."

On account of me, Michaela thought glumly. She didn't relish meeting this Hermione again, after having bared her soul in front of Hermione and everyone else that was there to see.

"Though she is a fifth year and younger than you, I'm sure you'll find her and her friends quite companionable."

The thought that only people associated with the Order could know Michaela's real reasons for staying at Hogwarts had never occurred to her. "So wait, what'll I tell everyone; why I'm here?"

"You'll say simply enough that your parents were killed in a car accident and that you had nowhere to go. Since I'm your only living relative and you are underage in the Muggle world, we're hoping that the Ministry will believe and accept it."

"But how will I do my schoolwork and things?"

Dumbledore smiled again. "That took some long-hard thought. But I think I have found a solution. When you do your schoolwork, it will be transmitted to your teachers for them to grade, though they won't know that they are doing it—it's a more complicated form of a Memory charm."

"Well, that's all good and fine, but some classes I need notes and things from lectures."

"I've found a solution for that as well. Breaking a few dozen rules, I imagine, I have come up with a way that will enable you to view your classes through a projector of sorts in an unused classroom. You will be the only one who will have access to it, though, after the classes are done and the projections will only last for 24 hours."

Michaela was impressed. "Wow, you've really though this through. I suppose I'll do fine; I'm a good student and all . . . but it'll be strange, won't it? Being a squib among so many witches and wizards?"

"Yes, it will be awkward at first, almost everything is. But I'm sure that you, as well as everyone else, will be able to adjust to it." Dumbledore stood up and Michaela joined him.

"I have sent for your things and had them put in your dormitory up there." He pointed up a stairway off to the right. "You can go unpack if you wish and later I'll send up someone to escort you to the start-of-term feast." With that, he walked through the portrait tunnel and Michaela was left alone in the common room.

Still standing, Michaela went over to the stairway but then stopped. She walked back over to a chair and sat down in it, pulling out the mirror that Sirius had given her.

"Sirius?"