You can imagine DP canon as a dystopia/utopia version where the Fentons moved to England when he was 11, he rejected Hogwarts, then the Wizarding government obliviated them all and returned the Fentons to Amity Park where they could happily live out cannon without knowing anything about wizards.

Just kidding. That wouldn't make sense at all.

Last updated 5/1/2020

Chapter Two
The Day of Decision

The Day of Decision.

I remember fussing and agonizing over the simple decision of going to Hogwarts or not. I suppose only in retrospect does the decision seems impossibly simple. If I had chosen differently, I would not be… myself, really. Everything would be so different.

But then, who am I, anyway?

The existential question "who am I?" has been debated by so many philosophers. No one seems to have a real answer, other than to state that our identity changes and warps and does unbelievably strange things to fit the times.

But even that little description creates a misconstruction. Identity, I believe, is no external being or factor that defines us. What matters is our decisions and actions in the moment, not what we identify ourselves as. That comes later, after the critical moments have passed, when we reflect on our actions and fit them into the personal narrative we call "identity".

Or so I believe. Forgive me, Eliza, for rambling.

Humanity

It was the Day. Minerva McGonagall would be arriving in just ten minutes, according to the owl that had flown into his windowsill last night. He had already told Mom – he had decided not to go to Hogwarts. Family was more important. Staying, living a normal life, was more important.

He sighed, staring out that same window. It was raining, water droplets leaving long streaks of liquid distortion on the glass panes.

He was only delaying. He should really just go downstairs and get ready, prepare himself for the disappointment he knew was going to face.

His thoughts sputtered to a stop, and he felt an uncomfortable twist in his gut. He was getting cold feet. Now? Why now? Finally he reached a decision, and it should have been easier after that – everybody said so – but all he felt was a looming wall overshadowing him, an irreversible decision with lasting consequences.

Strange. He had never felt like this before.

He considered it then, that strange feeling arising in him. He was conflicted, obviously. Magic seemed cool, but he didn't want to see his mother angry and disappointed at him. He knew Jazz would've been proud of him then, analyzing his own thoughts and feelings like this.

No. Darn it. He got distracted already. Introspection, introspection….

"Danny!" Mom's voice called. "Wake up! Minerva's going to be here soon!"

"I'm awake!" he called back, then thought about breakfast. He groaned, and rushed down the stairs, feet colliding heavily as he let his weight carry him down each step, stretching slightly to wake himself up, his eyes remaining glued to the door even as his feet led him to the kitchen.

Day of Decision. Time to choose.

If anything, the gnawing sensation in his stomach grew worse. He felt physically sick, far sicker than he had felt the day before. Hundreds of possibilities rushed through his mind, each more horrifying than the last. Perhaps some excuses among them – something terrible happened and he couldn't decide today, perhaps some more time, sorry?, he was sick, unpresentable, a family death –

The doorbell rang. Not enough time for even breakfast.

His mother opened the door.

"Hello!"

The sound of rain covered the professor's response. He found it fitting that it would rain to match his glum mood.

But why, oh why, didn't it at least slow her down?

The answer was, obviously enough, magic. The woman still had her wand out as she stepped into the house. Danny suddenly desperately wanted to learn how to teleport, just like she had when she had left last time. It sounded really, really cool. But if he didn't go to Hogwarts, would he learn how to teleport?

Stop rambling, he told his mind firmly. As if it would listen.

Too soon, he reached the end of the stairs to where his mother and Minerva McGonagall would be waiting. He knew his sister and father were waiting in the living room for them all. It had been agreed the previous night that it would be a family meeting.

"Hello." He stared awkwardly at the woman and watched in trepidation as her lips twitched into a half-smile.

"Hello," she replied.

"Come in, come in!" Maddie gesticulated, leading the woman to where the rest of the family was waiting. She followed, looking slightly bemused and more than slightly exhausted. Danny wondered at the black circles under her eyes, before his mind darted back to his own worries.

The living room was spacious, with a large couch facing the television screen. The wooden coffee table, which had once moonlighted as a pig, stood in front of it. Two chairs were pulled over on the opposite side of the couch for the occasion, and Danny had to face the awkward decision of attempting to squeeze next to the rest of his family – a near impossibility due to the giant that was his dad – and leaving one chair empty, or to sit next to Minerva McGonagall.

He chose the latter, and regretted it only ten seconds after he sat down, fidgeting at brushing too close to the woman would not be his teacher. Or maybe she would be his teacher after all. The queasiness grew.

"You must be Jasmine. I'm Professor McGonagall. " He nearly jumped at how loud her voice was, and he stared at her too long as she stretched her hand across the table to his sister. Jazz took it graciously, with a smile and quick "Nice to meet you."

"Oh, would you like something to eat?" Maddie said, when the exchange was over. "Cookies, perhaps? I can make tea, if you want."

It was almost as if a normal house guest were visiting.

"Yes, thank you," and there was a genuineness in McGonagall's voice, "that would be much appreciated."

And so their conversationalist left, leaving Jack Fenton, Jazz, Danny, and McGonagall all at one table. Predictably, there was a silence, until Jack was the one to break it.

"So," he said with a large grin, albeit slightly sheepish, "Would you like to hear me blather on about ghosts?"

Danny fought off a frown, and Jazz didn't even try, scoffing and rolling her eyes. "Dad, she doesn't want to hear about ghosts." Then she seemed to regain her standing and coughed conscientiously, "I mean, you don't want to hear about ghosts, do you?"

"I think I had heard quite enough last week," she said, projecting wry amusement. "But I haven't heard very much from you about it yet, Mr. Fenton." For a second, all was fine and she seemed to be referring to his dad, but after an unexpected pause (for he had thought his dad would immediately launch into explanation), he realized everybody was looking at him.

He opened his mouth. His brain blanked.

"I – uh. I –" His mind desperately latched onto a piece of information that he heard just yesterday – "Don't ghosts exist in the magical world?"

To his relief, it was over. The attention shifted away from him. It seemed to have been the correct response.

"Ghosts?" then his father boomed. He seemed surprised. "In the magical world? But..." He trailed off, and the confusion that contorted his face didn't seem to fit the scientist that was also Jack Fenton.

"Ah, yes," Mrs. McGonagall said, seeming rather uncomfortable, "when a wizard dies, they get a choice. To live as a pale imitation of who they were in life, or to move on. Why a ghost becomes a ghost, however, is not something to be breached lightly." She paused, and looked towards Danny. "You will likely be seeing many of them in Hogwarts."

"Quite fascinating." Everybody looked up as Maddie reentered the room, a tray filled with cookies resting in her mitten-covered hands. She set it down on the table, and Danny immediately grabbed one, relieved at the excuse to do something with his hands. "What do they look like? Do they have any ectoplasmic properties?"

"Ectoplasm?" McGonagall seemed puzzled. "I do not believe so... but the ghosts are often silvery and translucent, and able to walk through walls. I don't think they can even materialize solidly, to be honest."

Jack and Maddie traded significant looks.

"I see." A lull in conversation, and Danny bit into his cookie, pleasantly surprised to find no extra metallic tang in the warm flavorful goodness. Mom must have gotten rid of the ectoplasm in the oven. Despite how queasy he was feeling, he gulped it down. "Would you –" Maddie started.

The tea kettle began to whistle. Maddie ran back to the kitchen, and in a few moments the infernal sound was silenced. The four waited as she returned with cups in one round, and with a large tea pot the next.

She poured McGonagall's first, as she was the guest, and then went in a circle for the rest. While waiting for his tea to cool down, Danny grabbed another cookie. Soon they were all situated again. The atmosphere changed.

Down to business.

"So," Mom began, and Danny felt so strange sitting by this stranger rather than by his family, "We need to decide whether or not Danny is going to Hogwarts."

McGonagall pursed her lips into a thin line, and once again, Danny noticed just how tired she looked.

"Does Danny want to go?" she asked, wearily.

And there it was. The Moment of Decision. It was so much worse than the Day.

He opened his mouth, intending to speak. But to say what? What he had told his mother just yesterday? Or to make an irreversible decision to just leave?

But he could learn magic.

But -

"He told me he didn't want to go," his mother said, watching him carefully.

The opportunity had slipped away. His mouth shut close with a snap.

"But I'm not sure if he really meant that."

Danny gawked at his mother. What was she saying? Didn't she want him to stay?

Remembering her looks, her coddling, he swallowed. He suddenly realized what she was offering him. What this really meant. She wouldn't be angry, or upset if he now decided to leave. What had Dad said before? "We'll support you in whatever you decide."

His eyes met Jazz. His annoyingly smart sister had that smug expression on her, as if she'd been proven right about something. He wondered what it was.

And decided it didn't matter. He wrestled with himself for a moment longer, then sighed. Looking around at his family's faces, at the acceptance written plain there, he knew had been making a fuss for nothing but fear.

It was true. Hogwarts would be unfamiliar. He would have to adapt to a new place. But he wanted the newness. The adventure. The magic. He had always wanted that, ever since he had first looked into a telescope and seen how beautiful the stars were.

"I want to go," he said. "I want to go," he repeated louder, and Professor McGonagall smiled.

The next hour was full of explanations. McGonagall explained that the school year started on September 1st and that he would be getting there by train, but she could pick him up if they so wished (they didn't). She explained that he would be coming home for the Holidays – Christmas Break and the summer – if they wished (they did), and they could send letters to him via owl in the meantime and that technology didn't work at the school. She explained what he would be learning, of the four houses of Hogwarts (Gryffindor for the brave, Ravenclaw for the wise, Hufflepuff for the loyal, and Slytherin for the ambitious), and of the history of the magical world, especially in light of the more recent wars. Of the celebrity that was going to be attending this year of school with him. And finally, of Diagon Alley.

"And of course," she said, "you will be needing to get your school supplies."

When McGonagall was sure the family knew all about the situation there was to know, she left.

Everybody seemed content with how the morning had gone, Danny not least of all. He was greatly enthused at the idea of magic, and was gladdened at discovering the same enthusiasm in Jazz. They conversed about it excitedly ("What do you think my wizard name will be?" "Wizard name? Oh, I bet it'll be Danny the Ridunkulous.") for the rest of the day, which later had somehow devolved into a game of tag (Jazz started it) and generally messing around (again, Jazz started it). Maddie had come around once to scold them for the mess they were making, but she didn't sound very upset about it.

That wasn't so bad, Danny decided as he pulled the warm covers over him and snuggled into his bed, a feeling of immense relief washing over him. It was a good Day.

Mind still caught on wild imaginings of wonder and magic, his dreams that night were filled with adventerous wizards shouting "YOU SHALL NOT PASS" and turning tables into pigs and pigs into tables and better still, wizards flying through the night sky on wicked-looking broomsticks.