Headmaster's Office, Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Great Britain

Headmaster's Office, Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Great Britain.

"I agree, Minerva. It is a most unusual situation indeed," said Professor Dumbledore, the aged headmaster.

"It's very unusual, Albus. Why would they suddenly appear on the lists at this age? Both of them and from the same town, too," replied Professor McGonagall who had just brought in the potential students roster.

"I remember that we decided to not contact the girl last year because the school term was already underway when her name appeared. Of course, now our term is nearly complete. You said the boy's name appeared just as suddenly yesterday. I wonder what has changed?" He pondered.

"And what do we do about it? They are obviously older than first years, yet we can assume they know nothing of magic. They are American and have nearly completed their Muggle education. How would we place them?" Minerva seemed greatly perplexed, while she paced in front of the headmasters desk.

"Humm…" Professor Dumbledore suddenly sat straighter in his chair and lights seemed to gleam in his eyes. "Minerva, how would you feel about an accelerated summer program for two American teens from Roswell, NM? Over this summer, we could teach them the basics. Next summer, we'd teach them an intermediate level.  And have them attend a full seventh year after that next summer to prepare them for their N.E.W.T.s. Then, whether they wish to continue their education at a Wizarding University or a Muggle University, they will be prepared."

"What a great idea!" She exclaimed and appeared to brighten at the suggestion. "I do enjoy a challenge.  We'd have to work just as hard as the students and it would be very personalized." She paused a moment, "But would the other professors also be willing to work through the next 2 summers?" She asked.

"I believe they would. And I will cover Defense Against the Dark Arts classes at least for this summer."

"What if we send them an owl first, offering the program. One of us could go later as an ambassador to meet with them and their parents, to answer questions and discuss their options. I wonder...should we take the sorting hat and go ahead and find out where they would belong once they get here? Then we can arrange for tutors from their houses."

Dumbledore nodded to himself as he thought of the plan. He then smiled as he looked at Professor McGonagall.  "An excellent plan, Minerva!"

Within that hour, owls were sent inviting a Miss Elizabeth Parker and a Mr. Kyle Valenti to attend a special summer session at Hogwart's School in Great Britain.

Roswell, NM, USA – Two days later.

Liz Parker sat on her balcony with her feet up after a long, tough Saturday. It had only been three days since she heard that devastating message from Max's real mother. Only three days since her heart was stomped for trying to follow her dreams. Thus far she had managed to avoid Max, for the most part.

She'd watched Kyle wandering around in a stupor at school. He was shot three days earlier and revived by Max Evans, just as she had been eight months ago. "Maybe I should go and talk to him," she thought. "After all, Max healed us both. We're the only ones, in fact, to experience that and it sets us apart from the others."

If she were honest with herself, she'd examine exactly how different she felt since Max saved her life, but right then she wasn't interested in brutal honesty. If Kyle called, she'd be glad to talk, but she was too tired to call him herself.

"Only one more week of school to get through until summer vacation," She thought, and was comforted by how right that sounded and felt.

In the twilight she heard a sudden flutter of wings as a letter, addressed to her, fell into her lap.


Kyle Valenti sat on the couch as he flipped channels and tried to ignore all the strange things that had happened to him just that day. If he thought any further back, he feared his brain would explode. Or at the very least, he'd be carried away in a straight jacket by men in white coats.

The day started ok, even with his father giving him chores to do. He figured it would help him not to dwell too much on the lunacy of the past week. His Dad had asked him to check the gutter on the north side of the house. It had pulled loose over the winter and needed to be hammered back in place. In the meantime he had gone to the grocery store.

Kyle had almost finished reattaching the gutter when he dropped the hammer. "Oh crap! No! Get back here!" He shouted. As quickly as it had fallen, it returned to his hand! Shocked and scared, he muttered more than a few curses at Max Evans, as he let go of the
hammer. Forgetting that he was on the ladder, he tried to step back and began to fall himself. "Oh God, this is going to hurt," He cringed. But it hadn't. He bounced twice, as if on a trampoline. Landing on his feet he stared for a moment at them and at his hands, then he ran into the house for a bag to keep from hyperventilating.

Panicked, he picked up the phone to call..."Who do you call when the world goes weird? Max?" He'd asked himself.  He decided against calling Max. Instead he tried to call Liz, knowing she would understand, but only got her machine. He decided not to leave a
message. "She must be working." He had thought, and grabbed his keys to drive there. Instead he drove to the High School and spent the rest of the afternoon running laps around the track.

Once he returned home he put away the ladder. He pretended not to see the hammer lying there and left it to rust. "I'll just buy another one." He thought.

His father had grilled steaks for dinner. They planned to watch the baseball game afterwards, but halfway through dinner Jim, as the local sheriff, was called out to a major accident on the highway. This left Kyle alone with the TV's multiple boring channels and his chaotic thoughts.

A little while later he heard a strange tapping on the glass of the backdoor. He walked to the door and opened it. No one was there. As he turned back into the house, a falling envelope hit him in the head. He glanced back outside and saw nothing, but he heard the muted hoot of an owl in the distance.

As he was closing the door, he saw the envelope. It had fallen into the drain tray of the plant by the door, one edge in the water. He pulled it out and saw, through the blurred and running ink, that it was addressed to him.