The great white witch you have not seen?

Then, younger brothers mine, forsooth,

Like nursery children you have looked

For ancient hag and snaggle-tooth;

But no, not so; the witch appears

In all the glowing charms of youth.

—James Weldon Johnson, The White Witch

Chapter Six

Holly sat quietly on the sofa, smoothing down the front of her woolen skirt with damp hands, watching the various shades of purple blooming on her Uncle's face with growing fascination. After Professor McGonagall had introduced herself as a professor of Hogwarts, Holly had let her into the house. Though she had never known the name, Holly had known that she was set to attend a boarding school the September she was eleven. The young girl wasn't quite sure why the teacher was here already—after all, September was eight full months away—but she was curious about what it was about Professor McGonagall that made her relatives look as if they might sick up on themselves.

And why a harmless, middle aged woman had caused such a panic? The moment Holly had told her Aunt and Uncle who was waiting in the foyer, they had cursorily introduced the boys to Professor McGonagall—"Our sons, Dudley and Robert"—before immediately bundling Dudley and Bobby into coats and sending them to the park. Aunt Petunia never let Bobby go anywhere without her, so that alone was strange. Then Uncle Vernon, who had never missed a day of work that Holly could remember, not counting holidays, had actually taken the morning off and called it a personal day. And the strangest thing of all was the fact that her aunt didn't immediately start fussing over the guest, offering the professor tea or something stronger. If there was one thing Petunia prided herself on (and in reality there were many things), it was being a good hostess. What was it about this woman that made Holly's relatives act so out of character?

The woman herself was fascinating to look at. She was tall, with black hair that was barely beginning to grey. And everything about her spoke of order and tidiness. Yet there was nothing of Aunt Petunia's obsessive nature about her. She was obviously simply a woman who took pride in her appearance. She wasn't pretty, but her face was handsome, and patrician in looks. Keen ivy-colored eyes took in the room from behind square glasses, and Holly was certain that this woman didn't miss much.

After a long moment, once it became clear that no polite chitchat would be forthcoming, the stern woman turned to Holly and addressed her as if her relatives and guardians weren't in the room. "Miss Potter," she began. "As I said before, my name is Minerva McGonagall and I am the Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Holly gasped. She hadn't quite said that before. Licking her lips, the young girl asked, "It's magic, then? What I can do?"

McGonagall shot a scathing look towards Holly's aunt and uncle, and then turned back to the redhead and nodded. "Yes, it's magic. Your mother was a witch, and your father was a wizard. Did your relatives tell you nothing of our world?"

"World?" Holly echoed. There was a whole world of magic? The thought had never really occurred to the young girl before. She always supposed that if magic and witches were real—and she had been pretty sure by that point that they were—then it had to be something secret. Maybe there were hidden places others of their kind met in the forest on full moons to do Odd Things, or maybe on the Salisbury plains in the shadow of Stonehenge on solstices, but beyond that she hadn't developed any ideas.

"Yes," McGonagall said. "There is a whole world of magic; it's not just a school. We have a government, hospitals, sport, shopping districts, as well as several all-magical places that are hidden from Muggle eyes."

"Muggle?"

"Non-magical," the older woman explained. "You will learn all this and more over the coming months as you begin your entrance into the magical world." McGonagall then reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope made of parchment. "Here, Miss Potter. This is yours."

Holly reached out and took it from her. Turning it over, she saw that it was sealed with an embossed stamp in green wax. Cracking it down the middle, she reached in and pulled out the letter within.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Holly traced delicately over the shiny green letters, written in emerald ink, on the parchment. Her eyes were shining when she looked up at the Transfiguration Professor. "My mother and father went there, you said?"

Minerva's eyes were soft and a little wet when she nodded at the girl. "Yes, they were both excellent students, and Head Boy and Girl during their seventh year. Your mother was more gifted in charms and potions than my subject, but your father—I've never had a more talented student, even if he was at times, less than dedicated to academics."

The little girl giggled at the barely disguised annoyance in the teacher's voice. "Did you know my mother and father well?"

The older woman sighed. "As well as I knew any other person in the Order. Your father's and my relationship was mostly academic, but I kept up a correspondence with your mother after she and your father went into hiding."

"Hiding?" Holly repeated. "You mean they knew that the IRA was after them?" But even as she said the words, suddenly that explanation made no sense. If both her mother and her father were magical, surely they could have stopped the terrorist from killing them?

"IRA? I'm afraid that your relatives haven't told you the whole truth," Minerva said, shooting another withering glance to Petunia, who had a sour expression on her face. "You see, it wasn't a Muggle terrorist who attacked your parents the night they were killed, it was a wizarding one. A wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort," here she shuddered delicately, "had been trying to take over the Wizarding World for eleven years prior to your parents' deaths. Lily and James were part of the organization formed to stop him, as was I."

A haunted look came over her face then, and Holly was forcibly reminded of old Mr. Chambers, who lived over on Magnolia Crescent. He wore a poppy on his lapel all year long, and often looked much like the professor looked now—as if, for that moment, the memories could no longer be held at bay and they had to come forth and be seen once more. Holly had often tried to smile at old Mr. Chambers when he looked so lost, and she did the same for Minerva McGonagall, though it caused a pain in her chest.

The stern woman took her by surprise, reaching out and patting Holly's hand. "It was a very dark time," the professor continued, "and there were many magical families that perished altogether. The Boneses, the McKinnons…" here she trailed off and her eyes were glassy for a moment. After she recovered, McGonagall turned to Holly and matter-of-factly said, "You see, You-Know-Who…Voldemort," she shuddered after saying the name, "—he believed in what he termed the purity of the wizarding race. He did not believe that those born to non-magical parents had a place in our world, and that Muggle-borns…that people such as your mother were not worthy to use magic."

Holly's eyes widened in surprise at this information. This Voldemort sounded a lot like the Nazis she had learned about in school. She shot a glance towards her aunt to see what she made of the mention of Holly's mother, but to her surprise, Petunia was very pale and shaking slightly.

"Was that why he killed them?" Petunia asked, surprising Holly even further. Her aunt rarely mentioned Holly's mother if she could help it, and often when Holly brought the subject up she was given a very angry glare and a firm, "Don't ask questions!" Not asking questions was the secret to a quiet life with the Dursleys, but that had never really interested Holly. Why live a quiet life when you could do so much more? Her Aunt mostly forgave "her impertinence" though because Holly was still useful to Petunia, especially now that there were more and more complaints from the neighbors about Dudley.

"That and other reasons," McGonagall said to Petunia evasively. "Your sister was a brave woman, Mrs. Dursley. She fought for people like her, but for Muggles like yourself as well. You-Know-Who was rather fond of targeting non-magical civilians in his raids. Had he won, the world would have ceased to offer non-magical peoples any joy."

Petunia nodded once, swallowing convulsively and looked down at her hands. Vernon, on the other hand, said nothing, simply looking mutinously out the window. Holly was relieved to know that this dark wizard wasn't active any more, but she really didn't care about all that. Her concerns were more pressing.

"Professor," Holly said, drawing McGonagall's attention back to her. "I'm curious, why are you here now? From what this letter says, it seems that my response isn't even due until July."

The stern witch nodded. "Normally with the case of children from magical families, we send out the letters after the end of term in summer. However, it is our policy to deliver the letters of Muggle-born students as they turn eleven. We cannot legally reveal the information to Muggle parents before that, but sometimes even an extra month is very helpful for those who had never heard of magic before. With your case, it was decided between myself and Professor Dumbledore that we had lots of things to tell you before you entered our world once more, and it might be prudent to begin as soon as possible, thus we are here on your eleventh birthday."

Holly nodded, mollified slightly.

"In any case, I was hoping to take you shopping for your school supplies today. You are on your Christmas holiday, I presume?"

Holly nodded again, starting to feel excited. "You are going to take me into the magical world?"

"Indeed I am," Minerva McGonagall said.

"Now see here," Vernon began, causing Holly's heart to sink. "You can't just come in here and think we will start letting the girl begin that magical nonsense before the time is right. The old man said it would begin when she was off to school, not eight months beforehand." Vernon puffed his chest up, like he was an inflated beach ball. "We've ignored this freakishness of the girl's as best we could, but I will not now have our sacrifices be for naught. She certainly won't be waving her wand around in my house."

"I think I should mention that children are not allowed to do magic outside of school, and that accidental magic decreases once a child has been fitted for a wand." The Professor's face was thick with something like distaste, her lips pursed. "Of course, after today, we will be keeping a very close eye on Holly. Policy, you know."

Vernon's mustache twitched, and he bobbed his head, making his chins jiggle. There was a battle of wills on his face, as if he was torn between throwing the professor out of the house, and allowing her to take Holly as far away as possible. Eventually, removing Holly from his sight won. Wagging his finger at Holly, he said, "Fine, fine. If I let you go today, there's not to be one word of this to Dudley and Robert, understand? They're not to know one bit about this freakishness and your lot. It is to be kept secret and never mentioned in this house, you hear?"

"I understand, Uncle Vernon," Holly said calmly. "Professor McGonagall is simply a representative from my secondary school here to take me shopping for school uniforms."

Vernon grunted. "Good, that's sorted. You two can see yourselves out." With that, he got up from the room, stomping as he walked up the stairs, making the pictures on the wall swing in place. Petunia darted after him as quick as a hare, saying nothing. Fighting down a sigh, Holly couldn't shake the feeling that she had just closed a door forever. There was some regret, of course, but it was so overwhelmed by excitement that it passed away quickly.

"Well, shall we begin?" McGonagall asked, standing and smoothing down her dress. Holly followed her to the hall were they gathered their winter gear, wrapping and bundling up before going outside. Their feet crunched through the snow on the pavement, as McGonagall led her to the corner where she stuck her hand up in the air. With a BANG, a bright purple triple-decker bus appeared before them. Holly nearly fell backwards with surprise, but the professor placed a steadying hand on her shoulders before she could. Her eyes flicked over the sign above the windshield that read The Knight Bus.

The conductor came down the steps and began to speak in an important air: "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go—"

"Yes, yes," McGonagall interrupted. "It's rather cold, and we haven't all day."

"Yes, ma'am!" The conductor squeaked, snapping his heels together. Holly noticed that he had spots all over his face and couldn't be more than sixteen.

The conductor hastily departed back up the stairs into the bus, and McGonagall followed him onto the coach, handing him some funny looking coins, and said, "Diagon Alley. And no, we don't need any extras, thank you." She then led Holly over to one of the empty benches. To the girl, she said, "You might wish to hold on."

Holly did so with alacrity, and was instantly glad she did, for the conductor sat in an arm chair by the driver and said, "Take 'er away, Ern," and the bus shot forward with a speeding jolt. Her knuckles dug into the seat and the bench slid sideways, and she noticed that the bus was now nowhere near Privet Drive. Instead, they were rolling down an empty country lane. Walls and street signs were quick to jump out of their way.

"Can't people see us?" Holly asked the Professor.

"Magical folk can, of course, but Muggles cannot."

Snickering, Holly grinned at the professor. "Good, I can't imagine someone like Aunt Petunia seeing this coach."

McGonagall's lips turned up for a moment, before settling back into an even expression. Her green eyes met Holly's hazel ones then, and she said, "Miss Potter, since you mentioned your aunt, I do not mean to pry…there was some concern, that is some thoughts that you…might not have had the best situation at home."

Turning around so she was staring straight ahead, Holly's teeth clicked together. Her chest began to ache a bit. She forced herself not to look at McGonagall, and so began studying the other passengers. There was a little old witch with blue hair that was lying prone in one of the benches, clutching her handbag rather dramatically. Two boys who looked a couple of years older than her were sitting to their left, playing some card game that caused the deck to explode at certain moments. Holly wished she was sitting with them, rather than where she was.

When McGonagall seemed to sense that she was not going to get an answer from Holly, she lowered her voice and said, "You see, Miss Potter, I feel rather responsible for your current circumstances."

"Oh," Holly said shrilly, not recognizing her own voice, "and why is that?"

"Because I, along with Professor Dumbledore, was the one who left you with the Dursleys."

That caught Holly's attention, and her head snapped around to look at McGonagall. She felt hot anger and curiosity rise within her, mingling so together that she was uncertain which one was stronger. Her chest was throbbing now, right over her heart where her scar was. This woman was responsible for the last nine years, and the thought of it made her stomach knot and tears threatened to fall. Her cheeks felt warm as the witch's face blurred before her eyes. What had she done as a toddler that made the professor despise her so?

"Miss Potter—Holly," the professor whispered, lowering her gaze. "Please, try to understand. We did what we did to save your life."

"What?" Holly gasped, not even understanding what the mad woman was talking about.

"After You-Know-Who fell, his followers still had to be rounded up. They were looking for you, hunting in fact. One of them even had you in his possession for a brief time, though thankfully nothing happened. They would have stopped at nothing to kill you, and a very well respected Auror—that's like a member of the special branch—died protecting the secret of your location."

"But why?" Holly hiccuped, the tears falling down her cheeks. "I'm no one, just Holly."

Minerva McGonagall sighed, pulling out a handkerchief from her reticule and passing it to Holly. "Lass, you are not no one." She sighed again. The witch looked old then, and very tired. "I had hoped to avoid telling you this until you've had a chance to get your bearings, but maybe this is best. You see, Miss Potter, You-Know-Who did not find your parents by chance—he was looking for them."

Holly wiped her face and blew her nose on the little square cloth embroidered with daisies, though her attention was riveted on the professor, and she was listening avidly.

"Once he learned their location, he went to their home in Godric's Hollow and murdered them. But Holly, they were not the only ones that monster intended to kill that night."

"They weren't?" Holly turned her face towards the professor, resting her head on the back of the bench seat.

"No," McGonagall said solemnly. "He turned his wand on you, as well. He cast a Killing Curse at you, and well…no one really knows what happened next. You-Know-Who disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again. The only sign he had ever been near you at all was a cut shaped like a lightning bolt you bore upon your chest." Holly reflexively reached up, covering the space over her scar. It was pulsing a steady tattoo to match the beats of her heart.

McGonagall continued bleakly, "People who had mind-controlling curses on them were suddenly fine, and the world slowly returned to what it had been like eleven years before—no more war, no more deaths. This is why you had to be protected, Miss Potter. You are famous in our world, every child knows your name." She was quiet for a moment, and then said, "Professor Dumbledore is not just the Headmaster of Hogwarts. He is also the greatest wizard to ever live, with powers far beyond the comprehension of most people, myself included. The way that he could make you untouchable, to make absolutely certain that no harm would come to you, was to place you with relatives that shared your blood. As long as you can call your Aunt's house your home, the servants of Lord Voldemort could not give you so much as a bloody nose."

With this, her recitation seemed done and the professor settled back against the bench seat, relaxing her ramrod posture. Holly thought over McGonagall's words. She was not certain what to believe. But, the more she thought about it, the more some things began to make sense. She thought of that strange little man in a top hat that had bowed to her in a shop once. And then again of that tall woman who had shook her hand and thanked her on a train platform. Petunia had been angry both times, but Holly could never explain what it meant. Now she had her answer. She nodded to the professor.

The lines faded away from the professor's face and she looked less tense. "Miss Potter, I also want you to know that it was not our choice to leave you completely without a connection to our world for all these years. Yes, there was a concern about leading the Death Eaters—the followers of the Dark Lord—to you, but unfortunately, shortly after the war, stringent laws were passed regarding the contacting of Muggle-borns before they turned eleven. As you were being raised by two non-wizarding relatives, you qualified under the law, and the Professor and I had to comply with them. I had hoped that once Minister Crouch took office that things might change, but—oh, well. Today was the earliest possible moment we could contact you before you started Hogwarts, though I hope it will not be the last. I cared for your mother dearly, and it is my hope that I can get to know you better and fully introduce you to the Wizarding World. I thought we might take some trips in the upcoming months so that you can fully appreciate the life you are beginning."

Hope and excitement flared within Holly, but she was still wary of extending her trust. She shrugged, and said, "Can I think about it?"

"Of course, you may," McGonagall said, nodding firmly, though her eyes were a little dimmer.

Not wanting to truly offend the witch and close that door forever, Holly decided to offer a little olive branch. "So just how many magical schools are there?"

Her stern companion smiled, seeing the question for what it was.

"In Britain, there are five, though I feel I should point out that over half of the wizarding population homeschools their children." McGonagall continued easily, "For those who educate outside the home, Hogwarts is the most prestigious of schools. There are three day schools: one in York, St. Margaret's; one in Clapham, Morris Day; and the last in Hertfordshire, Ashbourne House. All three are much less expensive than the public schools, and are run by the Ministry for Magic. As such, their curriculum is much more regimented, and they lack extracurricular activities. The fourth, Queens College is a public boarding school like Hogwarts, though less prestigious and with a smaller all-female student body. It is located in Wales, near Cardiff. You would have received letters from Morris Day and Queens College had your parents not put your name down for Hogwarts when you were born." She took a breath. "Hogwarts is unique not only because of the size, and that students from Northern Ireland attend, along with the day students from Hogsmeade, but also because we offer admittance to everyone and are the only school that take Muggle-borns."

"Really?" Holly asked in surprise at the last bit.

McGonagall nodded. "It was part of our charter in the beginning, at the urging of Helga Hufflepuff, one of the founders. Though discrimination towards Muggle-born students was not a common attitude at that time, she was a rather wise witch who saw that such protections might someday be needed. As such, while students of wizarding ancestry have a flat fee they must pay for attendance, Muggle-borns pay based on their parents' income."

There the professor paused for a moment, reaching up to straighten her glasses. "Not necessarily information you need to know, but something to keep in mind all the same." McGonagall nodded, as if thinking, and then said, "Which brings me to the subject of your education. The first five years at Hogwarts will be primarily directed towards the completion of your Ordinary Wizarding Levels." She spoke at some length about them before saying, "After those are taken, your scores determine which NEWT level subjects you will be eligible for. I cannot urge you enough to do as best you can in all your classes so that you might have your options completely open when you reach this stage in your life."

Tilting her head to the side, Holly asked, "What subject do you teach?"

"I teach transfiguration, which, in simplest terms, is the changing of matter from one thing to another. You will also take Charms, Potions, History of Magic, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Astronomy. In your third year you will have the option of adding electives, and they are Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, and Divination." At the mention of the last subject she gave a little sniff. "To the very gifted, Professor Dumbledore sometimes teaches a course in Alchemy for the sixth and seventh years, though it is not open to all and your head of house must recommend you for it."

The country hills outside had turned into busy city streets of what looked like Cardiff, though Holly was only recognizing it from the telly, so she couldn't be sure. The bus made its stop, and the frail little witch got off, cursing at the driver as she did so. Holly hadn't even noticed that the boys who had played the card game were already gone, but saw their absence now. The bus took off again, and they were suddenly in the midst of stunning moors. Holly felt more than a little overwhelmed, thinking of all the things she had learned that day and all the information that was being crammed into her mind. She managed to ask, "You said my mother liked Potions and Charms, what did my father like?"

"Well, not to be too presumptuous, but he was excellent at Transfiguration, as well as Defense and Charms. He was also the star Chaser on his house Quidditch team."

"Quidditch? What's that then?" Holly asked.

The Professor smiled fully then, her eyes crinkling. "It is one of our magical sports." She said no more, but she must have sensed Holly's curiosity, for she smiled even wider than before.

The bus then came to a sudden stop, and Holly saw that they were in a city again. It looked like London. "Diagon Alley," the conductor announced, and several of the passengers began trickling down from the upper levels. McGonagall stood up, joining the queue that had formed to exit.

Holly followed her silently, stepping off the bus and looking up and the manky, little pub with some disappointment. Was this part of the magical world? The professor left her no time for questions, ushering her inside (which was certainly no more impressive) and straight passed the barkeep, going outside into a small, walled courtyard. McGonagall then took out her wand, tapping a staccato on the bricks that Holly easily memorized. The brick she had tapped then wriggled, and danced as a hole appeared that got wider and wider until a large archway had formed. Beyond that stretched a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

The professor placed her hand on Holly's shoulder, following her stunned gaze into the alley beyond. "Welcome back to the Wizarding World, Miss Potter."