Chapter One : The Calling

"Maeve, when are Mum and Dad getting back?"

"I don't know, Slade, stop asking me! They should be here already," the girl muttered, not taking her eyes off the screen.

"Can I play? I want to play!"

"Use your own computer."

"It's not working again. And I want to play Morrowind."

Maeve sighed and hit the Pause key. "What's wrong with it this time?" she asked, turning her chair to face her young brother. Maeve was a pretty girl, even at eleven years of age, with flowing dark brown hair and deep azure eyes. Freckles were scattered across her face like stars in the night sky. She didn't look much like her parents—her father was pale-haired and blue-eyed, and her mother's colouration uniformly mousy-brown—but her six-year-old brother Slade did, and despite this, they were quite inseparable (and resembled each other well enough) that it was easy to tell they were siblings.

Maeve and Slade's parents were gone that day, as usual. They were always very busy, running around the country and occasionally to other countries on business trips, most of which Maeve and Slade couldn't accompany them on. Their mother, Sarah, was a professor who had been born in America and still had family there—family which usually came to see them rather than the other way around. Neil, their father, was a business executive, and often spent long periods of time in London, Liverpool, and other cities with major branch offices. As a result, Maeve and Slade spent most of their free time watching television, playing video games, or reading books; when their parents would be gone for several days at a time, they often had the woman three doors down, Miss Apollonia, come to baby-sit them. Their parents were supposed to get back this afternoon, though, after only one night away. Slade was impatient, as he knew both parents would be bringing him a gift; Maeve had learned to curb her enthusiasm, as her side of the bedroom was already filling up with reminders that her parents were rarely at home.

Maeve's hand went to the mouse attached to her brother's computer—like hers, a state-of-the-art late-model version named after a fruit—and received no reaction. "You silly kid, the keyboard's just unplugged again," she announced, feeling around for the connection. "Honestly, Slade, why don't you check stuff before you call me over?"

"I did," he pouted. "It didn't help. …I like the way you fix it."

She sighed. "What are you going to do when I go away to secondary school in a few months?"

He shuffled his feet. "I don't know." There was a sudden tapping at the window, and they both glanced over. Slade's eyes went round. "Whoa, look! An owl!" It was indeed a very handsome-looking brown-striped owl, knocking on the glass pane with its beak, in which was clutched a piece of yellowish paper.

"What d'you suppose it wants, Sis?" Slade asked, awed. They both loved animals, and had never seen a bird so close before. Their parents, while understanding, didn't feel that the children were yet responsible enough to take care of anything beyond fish. Maeve suspected, though, that she might receive an upgrade to budgie within a few months.

"I don't know," she whispered, moving close. "It's like it wants to be let in…"

"What's it holding?"

"It looks—it looks like…an envelope," she said, peering at the elegant green writing across the surface. The owl looked up at her insistently, as if wondering why she hadn't opened the window yet. Maeve undid the latch and made to throw open the casement; the owl, seeming uncannily clever, stepped back off the sill and hovered while the window was opened. It lighted on the inside of the windowsill, looking up at Maeve with its large yellow eyes, and held its head as if offering her the envelope. Bemused, she took it, and read what was scrawled across the front in swirling emerald-green ink:

Miss M. Kerrigan

Upstairs Bedroom

19 Ash Lane

Pondsborough

Allendale

More confused and slightly alarmed, she tore open the envelope and scanned the letter inside. She had to read it a few times before it sunk in.

"What's it say? What's it say?" Slade asked, craning his neck to try to see.

"It…it says I've been admitted to some kind of school of magic," she muttered, flipping the two pages (one the letter, the other a list of supplies) back and forth. "I…I don't get it. It must be some kind of prank…" She was not among the popular crowd at school, preferring to sit and read books or draw anime characters rather than run round the playground at recess, but while there were those who occasionally made fun of her, she couldn't imagine that anyone would actually try to mess with her mind by sending a fake letter from a magic school.

"A prank?" Slade cried. "From who?"

"I don't know," she admitted, refolding the letter and gazing out the window. It seemed like an awful lot of work to train an owl to deliver a prank message… She re-read the letter once more. It did appear to be written on parchment, not paper, and was signed by someone named "Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts".

"Well, what are we going to do?" Slade asked. "…Can I read it?" Maeve irritably handed him the the letter. He gasped. "That's so cool! But they say you need to go to London…"

"I don't believe it, myself," Maeve sighed. "And why is that owl still here?" The owl suddenly straightened up at the sound of the door opening downstairs, and Slade shoved Maeve's post back at her and rushed from the room. When Maeve glanced back at the window, the owl was still waiting, looking for all the world like it had a prompting expression on its feathery face. She heard her parents call from downstairs.

"—Yes, fine," she said to the bird, recalling the line "We expect your owl no later than July 31st". She grabbed a pen from her computer desk, scribbled I accept your offer, but you must provide transportation on the back of the acceptance note, and handed it to the owl. She stuffed the list in her pocket as it took wing and flew off into the afternoon sky.

"Miss Apollonia's here, Maeve. She wants to talk to you," her mother informed her as she came running down the stairs. "Sorry it took so long—the taxi got a flat tyre—" She grabbed her daughter in a tight embrace. "Anything happen while we were gone?"

"No, Mum," she responded, just as her dad entered the room and she was traded off to hug him. She decided not to mention the strange letter at the moment. "What's Miss Apollonia want?"

"She won't say," Neil said, "but she wants to talk to us as well. She's waiting in the sitting-room. Oh, and I got you something…" He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a long thin box, which she accepted eagerly. "You mentioned that the Safeway here doesn't carry the pen you like anymore." Smiling, she lifted the top from the package, and was rewarded by the sight of a lovely, pristine new roller-ball pen, just the kind she liked for inking her drawings.

"Thanks, Dad!" she gushed, hugging him again. Sometimes the gifts almost made up for not being able to spend more time with her parents.

Miss Apollonia was standing by the fishtank, watching the brightly-coloured creatures swim to and fro. Maeve's mother rushed off to the kitchen to prepare a pot of tea, and Maeve seated herself on the overstuffed couch. Her father took his traditional seat in the imported armchair, reaching for the basket of mail that had collected on one side during his absence. Apollonia turned and smiled at Maeve.

"Hello," she said, her green eyes twinkling and perceptive as always. She made an excellent babysitter, as she seemed to always know somehow when Maeve and Slade were doing something they shouldn't. "Did you receive any letters today, Maeve?"

Maeve felt her heart skip. How did…? "Um…" Her hand instinctively went to the pocket that held the list of supplies, and she pulled it back. "No, there was nothing in the postbox for me…"

Apollonia strode over to the couch and sat down next to her. "This letter wouldn't be by ordinary post," she explained. "There's something very important I have to tell you." Maeve's mother entered the room just then, bearing a pot of tea and several teacups. "Your parents need to hear this, too."

Maeve's father looked up from the stack of bills. "She hasn't got into trouble, has she?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Apollonia explained, accepting a cup of steaming tea from Mrs. Kerrigan. "It's…rather unusual, but I'm sure you'll understand.

"Your daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Kerrigan, possesses a talent for magic."

There was an awkward silence, in which Maeve's parents exchanged bewildered looks. "Magic?" Mr. Kerrigan repeated. "Surely you don't mean—"

"Oh, but I do," Apollonia went on smoothly, taking a sip of tea. "You may find it hard to believe, but there are still people who practise magic in this day and age. I am one of them. We have our own schools, our own branches of government, even our own infrastructure."

"Wait, if you're a mage—how come we've never seen you cast any spells?" Maeve demanded, who had played enough video games and seen enough fantasy to know that magic was not generally easy to hide.

"Simply because, up until today, your family have been classified as 'Muggles', or non-magic-users. Wizarding laws strictly prohibit the use of magic in the view of Muggles. Nowadays, it is mainly to preserve our privacy, as magic would be in high demand if more people knew about it, but many years ago, it was very important to keep one's status as a witch or wizard secret, lest one be burnt at the stake as a Devil-worshipper." Maeve's mother opened her mouth, but Apollonia predicted her comment and headed her off with, "Magic use is not the same as Devil-worship, nor even paganism or Wicca. Magic is merely a force that those with the talent can learn to control, and religion rarely enters into it. I am, as you know from seeing me at church, as dutiful a Christian as anyone."

Slade wandered by. "Hi, Miss Apollonia," he said shyly, continuing on his way.

"Slade, I'm gonna be a sorceress!" Maeve burst out, and her brother stopped in his tracks.

"What're you talking about?" he cried, running into the room. "Is this about that letter?"

Apollonia smiled. "Come sit down, Slade," she said. "Yes, your sister has really been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In a few years, you probably will be as well." His eyes widened. "But it's very important that you do not tell all your friends. We witches and wizards like to keep it a secret."

"Why? Magic is awesome!" he gushed.

"If everybody knew we could cast spells, they'd come to us all the time to solve their problems. It's easier if they don't know. You're a smart boy, Slade—I'm sure you understand." He nodded solemnly, with obvious disappointment; it would have been fun to see his schoolmates' expressions on hearing his sister and their neighbour were real, live witches.

"I want to see you cast a spell," he said finally.

Apollonia smiled and reached behind her head. She took hold of the longest one of the three hair-sticks holding her bun and pulled it free. Giving it a flick, she intoned, "Orchideous!" Several flowers burst from the end of the wand, and all four Kerrigans gasped in admiration. Maeve deftly snatched the blossoms from the air as they fell, and one of Apollonia's eyebrows rose.

"Good reflexes," she murmured. "Maybe you should try out for Seeker on your House Quidditch team." Noting the confused expressions, she went on, "Quidditch is our sport—it's a bit like hockey or basketball, but it's all done flying on broomsticks—I'll explain later." She sighed, but didn't look upset. "I've just realised how much you have to learn. Don't worry, though, Maeve—you'll pick it all up quickly, I'm sure." She glanced up at the parents. "The term at Hogwarts begins on September the first. If it's all right with you, I'd like to take Maeve to London today, as she needs to get supplies."

"Oh—supplies," Maeve said, "that's right—how much are my things likely to cost?" Mrs. Kerrigan nodded in agreement, looking mildly concerned.

"Oh, it's not that bad," Apollonia assured them. "There's a fund set up for first-time students, but your parents can come and get their money exchanged at Gringotts if they want…"

Several hours later, Maeve and her family returned to her little house in Allendale laden down with packages, including a cage that held a small striped owl. Students at Hogwarts were allowed to bring "pets" (Maeve didn't know why they didn't simply call them "familiars", which is what they were), and she had liked the idea of an owl, since Apollonia had explained to her that the birds were much more intelligent that Muggles gave them credit for and were highly useful. Maeve had immediately named her owl Olcadan, after a character in a video game, and he seemed to like it. Maeve let him out in the evening, but advised him sternly (as her parents looked on) not to surprise her with anything he caught overnight.

She dreamt that night, strange hazy images that seemed to have a meaning she couldn't quite puzzle out. After waking up a few times and falling back asleep, a scene formed clearly in her mind's eye: Five people—three women and two men—were seated at a long table. One of the men, rakishly handsome with tawny hair and wearing a frayed wizard-style hat and a chunky ruby pendant around his neck, sat across from the other, who glowered at him beneath thick eyebrows that matched his cascade of raven-black hair. A brown-haired woman with sharp gray eyes was engaged in discussion with a fair and slightly plump companion, her cheeks as rosy as the ruby necklace on the man next to her. At the end of the table was seated a tall and very beautiful elflike woman, skin as pale as ivory and as smooth as porcelain, her hair red-brown at the roots and shifting to pure gold at the tips. She wore rose-petals and maple leaves woven in her hair and around her neck, and she looked up at the ceiling of the great hall they were in and smiled approvingly.

"I'm glad you were all able to come together to build this place," she said, in a soft and airy voice. "We have to leave soon, so the teaching falls to you."

"I still do not understand why you are willing to accept people with no magical heritage," the dark-haired man sneered. "They will bring their strange ways here, taint our bloodlines, spread knowledge around in the world that no normal person should know."

"My dear Salazar," the elflike woman said, not raising her voice, "when I began teaching humans the ways of magic, there were no people with 'magical heritage'. To me, you are all still neophytes."

"Are you implying that you feel I am Muggle-born?" he demanded, eyes flashing.

"Give it a rest, Salazar!" the tawny-haired man snapped, leaning back in his chair. "You know we're all humans, created in God's image. What does it matter if someone's parents were magic-users or not?"

"That," said the pale woman, rising from her seat and draping herself across the speaker's lap, "is what I like to hear." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. He smirked across the table at Salazar, who perhaps was just bitter that the other received such affections. The two women at the table rolled their eyes.

"Men," they said together, smiling.

"Really, why can't you two just agree to disagree?" the blonde one asked, spreading her hands.

"I dearly hope it is not true what I have heard speculated—" the gray-eyed lady said, shooting a glance at her tawny-haired colleague— "that the concern about…'pure blood'…has reached the point where wizards and witches refuse to breed outside their own families for fear of losing quality."

"What? No!" the plump woman gasped. "We mustn't! We've all seen what inbreeding does! Look at the poor Egyptians…!" Salazar grunted and folded his arms, saying nothing.

"You see?" the man across from Salazar cried, pointing at him. "Even Rowena thinks it's disgusting that you intend to marry your cousin!"

"Godric!" the elfin woman on his lap gasped, looking scandalised. Salazar slammed his long-fingered hands onto the table and stood up.

"I'm not— I am not going to—" he sputtered. "I—I've never been so—insulted—!" he spat, his face turning purple. Cloak swirling around him, he stormed away, and the blonde woman made to stand up and follow him.

"Leave him be, Helga," Godric said, looking annoyed. His lover watched the retreating figure and sighed.

"With all due respect, Queen," the gray-eyed lady commented quietly, "perhaps it was not the best idea to ask Lord Slytherin to help found the school."

The elfin woman rose to her feet and idly brushed her hair back. "I understand your concern, Rowena, but fear not. I have my reasons for having chosen each of you…"

Maeve woke up abruptly, rays of sun piercing her eyelids and a small beak nibbling gently at her ear. "What was that about?" she wondered.