Notes: This chapter references the "Satanic Panic" hysteria that originated in the U.S in the '80s but unfortunately spread over the globe by the '90s. The book that Diana reads in this chapter ("You Are a Monster," Choose-Your-Own-Adventure #84) was a real book published in 1988, though I can't say for certain that the events described match up 100% with the real-world version.


"Mornin', Di!"

Diana yawned as she stretched and rubbed her eyes, rousing from her sleep. She blinked and looked at the alarm clock next to her bed. Why the hell am I getting up at 8:00 if I'm on summer holiday?

She turned and looked at her mother who was standing in the doorway. She immediately sat up and became more alert.

"Mum, you look great!" Diana said truthfully. Sarah was dressed in a new outfit: long skirt and neat blouse, along with heels. It made her look more professional and put-together than her usual, casual outfits.

"You think so?" she laughed and blushed a bit. "There's an art show in Briarwood, and I'm hoping at least some of them will sell. It should take the whole day, so Grandma might be back before I get back."

This lifted Diana's spirits. Whenever Sarah went to an art show, her paintings sold. The problem was her having enough "inspiration" to actually make one that she's satisfied enough with to sell.

"Is there any breakfast?" Diana asked, then winced inwardly. It made her sound childish; she was eleven and could make her own food if needed.

Sarah smiled. "Yep, I left food for you on the table. Try not to have any wild parties while I'm away."

They both knew Diana was notoriously risk-averse; the most rebellious thing she did recently was walk six feet into the missing cave. Also, she hated large gatherings. "I'll try."

After saying goodbye, Sarah left and Diana quickly got dressed and headed downstairs. She saw there was toast on the table, with jam plastered on to make it look like a lopsided smiley face. As she was nibbling, she mulled over her plans for today. After the eventful week, she wanted some downtime to just relax, so calling up her friends was out. Maybe the library? Yes, that would work. That would also be the perfect spot to do some investigating of her own.

After finishing breakfast Diana rummaged through the wastebasket to take out the envelope from A.M's letter that she opened last night. She knew the Latin inscription on the back–Sanctimonia Vincet Semper–wasn't the same as the one from the camp letter, but she would feel more comfortable if she knew what the hell it meant. The paranoid part of her wouldn't let up on the idea that there miiiiight be some kind of connection. After all, hadn't the camp letter mentioned "Draco"—dragon—in its description? And weren't there dragons featured in the "M" seal? Diana didn't want to think that A.M could have ill intentions, but she couldn't be 100% sure.

Gathering her library books to return, Diana opened the door and exited the house, but stopped midway to the street. Her eyes widened in surprise.

Then, she let out a squeal of excitement. Hastily placing the library books on the ground, she immediately spun around and rushed back into the house, returning shortly after with a bowl full of water that was spilling due to her rushed movements. Near the bottom of the driveway was a silver tabby cat, sharp eyes sizing up Diana.

"Awww, hi there, little cutie! Do you want a pet?" She placed the water bowl down and hunched down to the ground, holding her hand out for the cat to come to her and sniff. The cat just continued to stare neutrally. "I got water just for you."

The cat kept looking at her, and Diana started to get goosebumps, feeling as though she was being judged. Maybe it was abused or something and doesn't trust humans. She felt a pang of sadness at the thought. She stood up and backed away from the water bowl, and the tiny part of her mind that was telling her that it was a Bad Idea to pet stray animals felt relieved. "It's really hot out and you might need it." Diana kept looking at the cat for about a minute and was about to leave, when something happened.

Without removing its gaze from Diana, the cat slowly and purposely walked toward the water bowl. It leaned its head down—eyes still locked on her—and drank two small sips before lifting its head back up, as if it took the drink only for the sake of politeness. When Diana reached out to touch it, it quickly slinked out of reach, but continued to stare. "I'll leave the water here," she said, and continued to make her way down to the library.

When she arrived, she returned the books and started researching what the Latin inscription meant. It roughly seemed to translate to "Purity Will Always Conquer," which eased some of Diana's worries. If A.M's family motto emphasized the importance of having a pure and noble heart, then surely he couldn't have been the one to write the letter. Unless this is some kind of Aryan reference or something. Ugh, I hope not.

She spent the next two hours reading books on the Tudors and browsing the fiction section, which caused her to pick out a Choose-Your-Own Adventure book and start flipping through it. Her natural instinct was always to pick the least daring options, which never resulted in a good end. She frowned as she kept getting endings that involved "her" either getting shot or being forced to work for a mob boss, with one ending even combining the two. Does this one even have any possible good endings?

"Ah, a reader!" squeaked a voice right behind her. Diana jumped, startled, and turned around.

Behind her was a small, mustachioed little man wearing a suit and what appeared to be some kind of light, long jacket (It's summer, how is he not sweating?). She was surprised to see that he was a midget (No, Diana corrected herself, that term's offensive, I think. He's a…a dwarf? A little person?), since as far as she knew, there was no one in Amberton with that condition.

The man continued, "Nothing like a good book to sharpen the mind. Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure, after all!"

Diana forced down a rude impulse to say that they were in a library, so it shouldn't be surprising that he found people reading. This man seemed nice, and his size made Diana less nervous than she normally would be if a strange man started talking to her.

She realized he was expecting her to say something, so she swallowed and muttered, "Yeah, I like to read." Way to show off that wit, Diana.

The man didn't seem like he minded. "What are you reading?"

Ughhh. Why couldn't he have picked anyone else in this goddamn library? She hated 'small talk' and never knew what to say without sounding dumb. "Um, it's one of those books that's written like the reader is a character in the story. And the main character is kidnapped and gets turned into a monster. You have to find a way to get back to normal which is hard because you're like, a monster, so everyone treats you like one even though you're the same person on the inside."

"Oh my, that sounds…suspenseful. Did you get the ending you desired?"

"I only went through it a couple times, but I, uh, I either end up getting killed or being forced to work for this mob boss and do bad things. I haven't gotten the happy ending yet."

The little man squinted. "A mob…boss? A mob of what? Why does it need a boss?"

Diana looked at him in disbelief. Is he screwing with me, or does this actual grown adult really not know what the mob is? "It's just, you know, the regular mob. The criminal mob." The man was still looking at her blankly. "This book takes place in America," she added, attempting to be helpful.

There was an awkward pause where the man still looked bewildered. Diana wanted to make an excuse to leave, when the little man spoke up. "Well, I know a little something about being treated differently because of looks." He smiled sadly and gestured to himself.

Diana suddenly felt guilty for her early thoughts and rushed to reassure him. "You don't look scary, you look"–Diana was about to say 'cute' but realized how offensive that would likely sound–"not scary," she finished lamely.

The man smiled. "That's kind of you to say."

Still not convinced he was pacified, she added, "I sometimes know what it's like to be treated differently, too. My mum's well, I'm not sure if you're from around here or not, but people, um, think she's a bit mad. So when they see me, they either feel sorry for me or think I'm mad too."

The man chuckled. "It's not unusual for those who speak the truth to be viewed as pariahs. Your mother's not mad, Diana. Witches and wizards do exist. Didn't you get your letter?"

It was as if the whole world froze. Shock, panic, and despair gnawed at her insides as her eyes frantically darted to the other patrons of the library, who had to be in listening distance and could hear him. But why wasn't anyone looking at this man oddly?

The man followed her frantic gaze and his eyes lit up. "Oh, no need to worry about them! I used a charm so no one could hear what we're saying and–-wait!"

But it was too late. Diana spun around and bolted out of the library, past the confused patrons, past the sputtering librarian who said she needed to check those books out, down the street and past all the shops and houses. She didn't dare stop, didn't dare to turn around, even though she was completely winded and had never sprinted that fast before in her life.

When she finally arrived at 6 Ironwood Lane, she was feeling the most grateful she had ever felt while looking at its crappy paint job and overgrown lawn. The cat from earlier was still there, tilting its head at Diana curiously, as the young girl stood gasping for breath. She ignored the cat and made her way to the porch in a daze only to step on something that filled her with deep dread.

Sure enough, another letter was there (How? There's no post on Sundays!). She opened it with quivering hands only to reveal what she expected: the contents were exactly the same as one she threw in the rubbish bin at Camp Chrysalis. For all she knew, maybe it was the same letter.

This time would be different though. This time, she'd keep it for evidence. Evidence that someone was fucking with her, and that she needed the police to take some kind of action ASAP. Because the alternative would be to accept that magic is real, which is ridiculous.

As Diana shoved the letter in her pocket and pushed the door open, thoughts swirled around in her head. Should she barricade the door? Should she call Claire's mum? Should she call the police now, or wait until she talks to Grandma first? If the man tried to attack her, could she fight him off?

Diana almost jumped again when her reverie was broken by the noise of the cat meowing and pawing on the door. Still in a bit of a daze, Diana let the cat in–not the smartest move, but at this point, Diana didn't want to be alone, and she'd take any company she could get. Diana locked the door, then found herself moving upstairs in order to read the one book she swore she'd never read.

Diana entered Sarah's room and picked up the black "memory book" that Sarah revered so highly. As she opened it, she noticed a photograph fall out of the book and on the ground. Diana felt a pang of sorrow looking at it: It was a picture of her mother and another blonde girl, grinning together. Julie Williams. Amberton's most famous murder victim, and a cautionary tale that mothers would tell their daughters about the dangers of trusting the wrong man.

But if one were to ask Sarah White, they'd get an entirely different story of what really happened to Julie Williams. Diana traced the outline of her mother's face; she never saw Sarah have an expression like this before, so full of unbridled joy and without a care in the world. This isn't what I'm here for. No, it wouldn't be useful to ruminate about possible what-ifs. She needed to focus.

Diana started flipping and skimming through the book, hoping that something would give her a hint about this tiny little man. But it was a far more difficult task than Diana intended. A lot of the words and phrases seemed disjointed and foreign (what the hell is Imperius?) and wouldn't make sense to anyone besides Sarah. The notes seemed to be in no particular order and often reflected the writer's own uncertainty. She read one page:

3 magic users who interviewed me:

Serious, important-looking, intense, irritable and grumpy (Name was Weesly? Maybe?). Can't remember hair color or length. Cold.

Shoulder-length light hair (blonde? brown?). Older. A total arse. Acted more casual and laid-back. Name was Alan Moody?

Red-haired man, middle-aged, acted friendly and kind, warm eyes. THIS IS A LIE. DO NOT TRUST. HE IS JUST LIKE THE REST.

She flipped to the next page, and then the next, automatically skipping any page where she saw her father's name (She was not emotionally prepared nor had any desire to go anywhere near that topic today). Still, she couldn't find any mentions of a tiny man with a mustache. The closest she was was "tiny little creature, silent, brings food, big and bulging eyes. Elf? goblin?" which didn't quite sound like the man she met.

Before she could continue, she heard a creaking sound from downstairs and froze. She strained her ears, hoping that she misheard. But she didn't. There was someone walking around downstairs.

That same mixture of sheer panic and despair that she became accustomed to experiencing today welled up in her again. What the fuck do I do? Could it be Grandma? No, Diana didn't hear the door open. Wait, if the door didn't open, then who the hell is down there?

"It's magic," a voice whispered in her head. She ignored it.

What should she do? Fight, flight, or hide? She surveyed her mother's bedroom but didn't find anything that could be used as a weapon. Her mum's room didn't have any windows she could escape from. Should she try to sneak into her own bedroom and get out the window that way? Or should she just try to hide in the closet.

And, more importantly, who the fuck was in her house?

She decided to hide. But as she was slowly opening the closet so it wouldn't creak, she heard something right behind her that made her jump.

"There's no need to be alarmed, Miss White."

Diana instinctively spun around and saw an older woman (at least it's not a man) with hair in a neat bun, wearing what looked to be some kind of long dress (robes?).

'Who are you, and how did you get in here?' was what Diana wanted to say, but her inner nerves and panic impeded her, instead only allowing her to croak out, "Who'reyouand how d-d-did you…"

The sharp gaze of the woman seemed to grow a bit softer. "I am Professor McGonagall, though I believe you've surmised that already. As for how I entered, well,"-she gave a small, wry smile–"you invited me in."

"I didn't–" Then Diana stopped. Is she trying to imply that she's the cat? It sounded insane, but everything about today was insane.

McGonagall gave the young girl a knowing look. "Your suspicions are correct. Sometimes circumstances require me to be a bit lighter on my feet."

Diana once saw a black-and-white movie where the husband creates this elaborate plan to have his wife think she's going insane. Was something similar happening here? Were all these people actors? Was this some kind of ruse?

"Magic isn't real," Diana said, more to convince herself than anything else. McGonagall regarding her with an unreadable expression and pulled out an actual fucking wand from inside her robes. Goddamnit. She walked over to the bedside table and picked up Sarah's alarm clock. Muttering a phrase Diana never heard before, the professor tapped her wand against the alarm clock, and the alarm clock turned into a dove, which flew across the room.

Well, that's it then, Diana thought numbly, Magic exists. There were no possible mental gymnastics that could be done to create a 'logical' explanation from that. There was no going back from this knowledge. And if magic was real, then Sarah….

Diana's mind raced with the implications, heart sinking.

Diana muttered the only thing that came to mind that she could say without breaking down from an overload of emotions. "T-that was my mum's clock."

McGonagall frowned and waved her wand again. The dove disappeared, only to be replaced with the alarm clock. Diana looked at it blankly.

"Did…did it die?"

McGonagall tilted her head. "I'm sorry?"

"The dove." Her voice started to grow more frantic as she tried to push down the growing sense of guilt. "Did it die when you changed it back into the clock?"

McGonagall looked surprised at the question. "No, Miss White, it didn't die. I simply changed its state of being. It cannot be dead if it's no longer a living creature."

Diana's brows furrowed. "But it is dead. It was once alive, but now it's not. It stopped existing."

McGonagall peered at Diana with a curious expression. "The fundamentals of Transfiguration will be explained once you begin your studies."

That jolted Diana back to reality. "I-I'm not going."

The unreadable expression returned to McGonagall's eyes. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation downstairs, where we could sit more comfortably?"

Was there even a chance to say no? Would this witch harm her, the way the others harmed her mother? Diana nodded slowly and followed McGonagall downstairs to the sitting room, where they sat in two chairs looking across from one another. The professor muttered a spell and conjured two tea cups out of thin air. McGonagall took one, while Diana just stared down at the other. No way was she drinking from that.

"I must apologize if you felt I was rude earlier," McGonagall began as she started sipping her cup. "While I physically transform into an animal, I can assure you my mind remains fully human. The thought of being pet by another human is something I find inherently degrading, though I am aware you had good intentions in mind."

"Oh." Diana thought McGonagall was going to apologize for barging into her house unannounced, but perhaps that was expecting too much. "S'okay."

McGonagall seemed to be waiting for Diana to say more, but when that didn't happen, she continued, "As I mentioned earlier, I was the one who wrote your acceptance letter. In truth, you receiving it in the first place was a bit of a clerical error. You see, Muggleborns–that is to say, witches and wizards with two parents who are nonmagical–have one or more of the faculty members arrive in order to inform them of our world. Since you are half-blood, the letter was automatically sent to you yesterday and today, though your situation is a bit…unusual. I can only imagine your confusion when you read the letter for the first time."

Diana's mouth started to feel very dry. She swallowed. "So it's true then? My father was a…a wizard?" It sounded so ridiculous. "My mum's stories are true?"

McGonagall paused for a moment. "Stories?" she asked casually, but Diana noticed how the professor's grip on the cup grew slightly tighter. "What types of stories did she tell you?

Does she really not know? Diana hesitated, mind racing as she tried to figure out the best possible way to answer this question. According to her mother, she wasn't supposed to have remembered what happened all those years ago. But if they were coming to let Diana know about the magic, then surely…

She decided to throw caution to the wind and asked bluntly, "Did my father use magic to imprison, torture, and rape my mother?"

The professor's eyes widened and she looked speechless, which Diana suspected, with some satisfaction, did not happen often. Guess that answers my question. In a way it was validating, but also Diana felt a tidal wave of guilt for all the times she thought her mother was a lunatic. It was also disappointing. Though Diana had accepted that her father was likely a terrible person, she still clung on to some kind of hope that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as cruel as Sarah portrayed him as. Now, there was no longer any doubt.

"That's—your mother told you that happened?"

If what her mother said was true, then of course this witch would be surprised. Her whole society operates on erasing the minds of nonmagic folk. Diana started to feel a sense of fury building within her at the unfairness of her mother's treatment. What's more, she felt a sense of pain and loss. Loss for the mother she could have had–the smiling woman in the picture–if the wizards never tampered with her mind.

"Yes, she did." It came out more forceful than Diana intended, but she didn't care. Her anger was growing, and with it, her confidence. "Are you surprised? Did the memory spell not go the way you wanted it to?"

McGonagall seemed taken aback again, but quickly recovered. "I assure you Miss White, that I, nor any of the staff, had any involvement in the decision to–"

"I'm not going to Warthogs," Diana repeated, this time much more assertively than before. "I–I don't want anything to do with magic."

"The name of our school is Hogwarts, and I certainly understand your…reservations about magic. You certainly have reasons to feel—"

McGonagall was interrupted by a frantic pounding on the locked door. Before either could make a move to get up, a squeaky voice cried out, "Alohomora!"

The door unlocked and the tiny man from earlier stumbled in. "Miss White, I swear I'm not here to harm you. I merely—oh, Minerva! You're here already."

McGonagall seemed relieved at the interruption. She gave a strained smile to the little man. "Yes, Filius. I see the conversation earlier did not go well."

"No, it didn't," the man said sadly. He turned to Diana and smiled again, not letting Diana's horrified expression deter him. "My name is Filius Flitwick," he said with a small bow. "I, too, am a professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I'm dreadfully sorry for frightening you earlier. Professor McGonagall did say that it would likely work best if we both met with you here, but in my arrogance I assumed that speaking in a public place would make you feel more comfortable. Clearly, that was an error on my part. Yet another example of Professor McGonagall always being right!" He chuckled.

Diana wanted to tell him that if he–and McGonagall, for that matter–wanted to make her feel more at ease, then barging into her house was not the way to go about it, but the words died in her throat. Flitwick's arrival derailed the momentum she was building before he came in. Instead, she mumbled, "It's okay…"

As Flitwick walked on over and plopped himself in another chair (sure, just go ahead and make yourself at home…) McGonagall conjured him a teacup, looked at Diana again, then looked at Flitwick. "Filius, it appears we were given some misleading information before coming here. Miss White tells me that her mother has some…recollections regarding Lucius that she was not expected to have."

Recognition dawned on Flitwick's face, and he suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Oh. Well, that's certainly…unexpected."

"S-so it should come as no surprise that I don't want anything to do with magic, right?" Diana asked. "And besides, if I go to that school, everyone would know my father's in jail for doing all those evil things, and I–I don't want to have to deal with all that."

Flitwick and McGonagall looked at each other with expressions Diana couldn't decipher. It was almost comical; if she did go to this magic school, then she'd be as much of a weirdo as she currently was in Amberton. At least here she'd know what to expect.

"I understand your concerns," Flitwick said finally. "My father was a goblin, and the history between goblins and wizards has been…volatile, to put it mildly. When I attended Hogwarts, I often had to grapple with prejudice from my classmates. Nonetheless, I persevered and never once regretted my decision to attend Hogwarts."

Goblins. Sure, why not? "But was your mum some kind of sex slave for a bunch of…goblins, only to have her memory modified"—at this point, Diana's voice started to obtain a slightly hysterical tone against her will—"only to have goblins show up at your house years later forcing you to do what they want?"

McGonagall looked at Diana sharply. "Miss White, I understand this is upsetting, but these types of comments are uncalled for and–"

"It's all right, Minerva," Flitwick said, expression a bit dampened. He turned to Diana. "No, but the reason my mother had relations with my father was to pay off a debt."

"Oh," said Diana, feeling guilty about her outburst.

McGonagall sighed. "While I'm aware your experiences with magic thus far have been…off-putting, I'd ask you not to lump us in with the group that behaved improperly with your mother. Just as in the Muggle world, there are those in our world who break the laws and regulations. Those people aren't representative of our whole society."

The previous fire started coming back to her. "Well, Mum said that the government erased her memory, so if that's the case, then, yeah, I think it is, actually."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "I can see why, from your perspective, they might seem comparable, but there are many legitimate reasons for keeping our worlds strictly separate. It is unfortunate that it comes at the cost of Muggles occasionally having their memories modified, but doing so is in the best interest of everyone, Muggle and wizard alike."

Diana wanted to rip into her, wanted to tell her about just how much her life got fucked over by that little spell, but wasn't quite that brave yet. So instead, she latched on to another idea, one that, in retrospect, she probably should have brought up earlier. "It's not worth it to even talk about it anyway, since I don't even have magic. I know I got the letter, but I'm not a witch. My father might have magic, but I don't."

Flitwick smiled. "Oh, you do, don't worry about that. We have records of every magical child in Britain, and you were in the registry. And of course, the Ministry has a record of you using the Revelio charm on the cave, even if you were unaware of using it. Quite the impressive bit of magic, if I do say so myself!"

Diana thought of the odd circumstances behind the cave, and things started to click into place. It now made sense why the cave only appeared to her when she wanted it to. This realization was accompanied with an overwhelming, oppressive sense of dread.

I'm a witch.

I'm a fucking witch.

Mum's going to hate me.

Diana's vision started to get blurry as she started blinking rapidly. "B-but I'm not…like him. I'm not evil."

Both professors looked at her with sympathy and she felt like throwing something. She didn't want their pity. They were the ones who were ruining her life.

"Miss White, magic is simply a tool," McGonagall said softly. "What one does with it is up to the individual. Simply having magic does not make you evil."

"I don't want his magic. Magic's done nothing but cause harm for my family! It's…wrong and unnatural."

McGonagall's eyes flickered to the cross that was hanging on the wall above the fireplace. "I realize it may be a difficult concept to reconcile at first. My own father was a Presbyterian minister, and both he and I experienced a similar struggle when I started showing signs of magic. Soon, however, came to view magic as a blessing, a gift. He told me that if I was born with this power, then there was a reason for it, and it was my duty to use it responsibly. And while it's been many years since then, I've taken those words to heart. It is my hope that you might find value in them too."

Diana suspected this was likely a calculated manipulation attempt in order to cause her to lower her guard, and took it with a massive grain of salt. Still, hearing it made her calm down somewhat. "But your name's Minerva. If he was a minister, why would he name you after a Roman goddess?"

McGonagall gave Diana a look that was slightly patronizing. "Are you not named after a Roman goddess as well?"

Good point. "Um, yeah, I am," Diana said sheepishly. In retrospect, it wasn't that unusual for kids to be named after mythological figures, even if their parents didn't worship them. "Sorry. Minerva's just a bit of an unusual name in the regular–um, I mean–the Muggle world."

McGonagall chuckled. "So it would seem. In that case, it should come as no surprise that my mother–who was a witch–chose the name, though my father agreed to it. While her personal spiritual beliefs and practices were close to my father's, she always found the stories of the goddess of wisdom to be inspiring."

Diana was starting to get curious, in spite of herself. "Your parents married, even though your dad knew your mum was a witch? I thought everything needed to remain separate. Isn't that why my mum's memories were erased?"

"My father didn't know of my mother's heritage until after they were married. Once a marriage is complete, then it is permissible by the Ministry to reveal our world to the Muggle spouse."

In Diana's opinion, it sounded unethical, which tracked with how the Ministry has behaved in the past. Diana didn't feel like it was fair to spring something that major on a spouse without discussing it with them first. And what would happen if the Muggle parent didn't handle it well? Would their memories be erased?

Of course, Diana wasn't about to say all that; it would have been very impolite, given the amount of personal information McGonagall was sharing. "But you want me to go to this…Hogwarts, right? That's why you came here, and you didn't know that my mum knew. Would you have told her about it?"

Flitwick and McGonagall exchanged another look that Diana couldn't identify. "It's true that one of our reasons for coming here was to inform you about Hogwarts," said Flitwick, slightly nervously. "However, there is, er, another reason for our visit."

"Miss White, are you familiar with a man named Burgess Borthwick?" asked McGonagall.

Diana tried to rack her brain for anyone of that name, but came up blank. "No. I never heard of him before."

"Yes, well," coughed Flitwick, "apparently, he has a copy of some sort of documentation that says that your mother is—and I'm just repeating what I was told, mind you—that your mother was deemed an unsuitable parent by Muggle courts. Is this…accurate?"

Why is this Borthwick bloke looking for that? Diana's nerves started to flutter again in her stomach. "Um, sort of. A few years ago, the courts did say that was true. But then, later on, they said it was okay for my mum to live with me since she got better." Diana didn't mention yesterday's episode. "So right now, I live with both her and my grandma."

"So there's another report that says she's a good parent then?" Flitwick asked eagerly. Diana didn't like how McGonagall's eyes grew more grave.

"Yeah. But, um, w-why is this person looking for that kind of documentation?"

There was another moment of silence where the two professors looked at each other with those unreadable expressions again, and Diana's heart started to beat fast. McGonagall turned to her and said solemnly, "Miss White, I'd like to warn you in advance that what I say might be a bit…upsetting, but I need you to remain firm and composed."

Oh fuck. "W-w-what's happening?" she asked in a voice that was neither firm nor composed.

McGonagall looked at Diana with soft, sympathetic eyes, eliciting another jolt of panic to run through her. "Diana, you mentioned before that you believed your father to be in prison. However, this is not the case. Your father was tried in our court many years ago, but he was declared Not Guilty."

"But why?"

"The court did not believe there was adequate evidence to conclude that he was guilty of this crime, among several others," she replied neutrally.

"But I'm the evidence. I exist."

McGonagall gave another wry smile. "Yes, that's true. However, your existence and connection to him was unknown until very recently."

" I–I thought—my mum said–is-is he coming after me?"

McGonagall hesitated. Tears started to well up again in Diana's eyes as she knew what the answer was. "Yes, Diana. Your father has gone to court and requested custody of you. In situations where magical children of wizards and Muggles are born out of wedlock, it is customary for the child to be placed with the wizard parent. However, Albus Dumbledore—headmaster of of Hogwarts and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot—"

"What's that?" Diana sniffed, several different emotions fighting for dominance.

"It's the highest court in our world. Dumbledore has reason to believe that if you were to show up at the trial, your testimony might sway the council to allow you to stay with your mother."

Thoughts of all her failed attempts of public speaking flashed through her mind. No. Nononono.

"Th-that's not a good idea."

"It could be a great chance to argue in support of your mother," Flitwick added, trying to be helpful.

"But–Mum. S-shouldn't she be the one to speak?" Once she said it, Diana realized what a terrible idea that would be. Sarah White, in front of some sort of wizard council, with, presumably, her father in there? Not happening.

"Muggles aren't permitted inside the Wizengamot, I'm afraid," Flitwick said sadly.

"But these custody cases you mentioned are for their children! How could the courts decide something if one parent can't even get a chance to speak?"

A spark of determination flickered behind McGonagall's eyes. "Dumbledore has ensured that your mother's voice will be heard in some capacity, even if she is unaware of the trial that is occurring. I can assure you of that."

Diana didn't know what that meant, and wasn't sure if she liked it. "I d-don't get why this is even happening. It's been eleven years and he hasn't contacted me once. Why does he even want me anyway? I–if all of this is true, then my mum said he didn't like people without magic, and I'm half regular person."

McGonagall's brows furrowed. "Our understanding is that he found out about you very recently. As for why…that, we're…not quite sure."

The thought of him using her for some kind of magical ritual sacrifice crossed Diana's mind and she felt queasy. "How long until this trial?"

"We have plenty of time," Flitwick said. "The trial doesn't start until eight o'clock tonight."

"What the fuck?!"

She didn't mean to actually say it out loud, but she was too overwhelmed to care at this point. Both professors looked at her, taken aback. Mind reeling and voice fraught with emotion, she started rambling, "But you just told me today. This is too much and it's too soon and there's no way I'd be able to say anything and I really don't want to see him. I won't do it. You-–you can't just come here and tell me things like this. It's not right. I really think you s-should go."

Flitwick looked alarmed. "Miss White, we're here to help you. If you come with us, your voice could be key to–"

"You just said earlier that these cases always end up the same. T-there's no point. At least this way I can enjoy my last moments of freedom."

"If you'd just take a moment to consider—"

McGonagall held her hand up to stop Flitwick from continuing. She turned to look at Diana with a grave expression. "Miss White, there's very little else we can say at this point. I wish you didn't have to deal with these circumstances, but the fact of the matter is that this trial will happen, whether you are present or not. A small chance is greater than no chance, and sitting aside will almost certainly guarantee a victory for Mr. Malfoy. Albus Dumbledore made it very clear that the decision is to be yours and yours alone. If you ask us to leave today, then we will leave."

Diana thought about this for the moment. Through her haze of panic and confusion, the thought of her book from earlier popped into her mind.

She was at a crossroad. She could testify in front of her father and the courts. Explain that she wanted to live with her mother, explain how much her life now mattered to her. See the magical world for the first time. That's what the protagonist of one of her books would do, if they wanted a good ending. That would be the brave thing to do.

But Diana wasn't brave. She was eleven years old, scared as hell, and wanted her mother and grandmother. She thought of the anxiety of speaking up in front of everyone at Camp Chrysalis. She thought of the sadness in her heart listening to her mother talk about her father last night, thought of all the horrifying stories she heard, thought about standing in a room with her father and all these wizards and witches with endless power at their fingertips.

This would be a moment Diana would often look back on and wonder how different her life would be if she chose differently. But for now, her decision was clear.

"No. I'm not going. And–and I'm not going to go to Hogwarts either."

Both of their expressions fell, though McGonagall didn't seem that surprised. "Then we'll respect your decision not to attend the trial. However, the decision to come to Hogwarts in the fall has already been made. Regardless of which parent you end up with, there is no avoiding that."

"Yes," said Flitwick sadly, causing the teacups to disappear with a flick of his wand. "I suppose we'll see you in a month. Hopefully you'll be in my House. The transition may be difficult, but the staff will support you the best we can."

Diana didn't say anything. She got up to open the door, but Flitwick simply disappeared with a pop. Diana gaped.

"I'll leave through the door," McGonagall said stiffly. Before she crossed through the doorway, she paused and looked back at Dana. "Miss White, you don't have Lucius Malfoy's magic. What you have–your gift–it's your magic. No one else's."

"I don't want it," Diana said bitterly.

McGonagall smiled sadly. "I know. But nevertheless, you do have it, and you'll be more at peace with yourself once you accept it."

Diana didn't say anything in reply, but watched McGonagall as she left through the doorway and then shifted into a cat to make her way down the rest of the path. I don't even give a fuck anymore.

After the cat was out of sight, she locked the front door again (for all the good that did) then went around making sure all the other doors, windows, and possible entranceways were locked. Then, she ran back into her room and sat on her bed, huddled in the corner for several hours. She was trembling, but didn't cry. There were too many emotions whirling through her head.

Was her father going to just show up on 6 Ironwood Lane and take her back with him? Was he going to talk to Sarah? (Oh no, that can't happen.) Was he going to talk to her grandma? Would Grandma really bludgeon him to death with the fire extinguisher, like she told Diana and Sarah she would if he ever showed up at their house? Would he kill them? Should Diana have gone with Flitwick and McGonagall? Should she call the police? What would she say?

Her reverie was interrupted by a sound of footsteps, and Diana froze as she remembered the events of earlier in the day. Her tenseness morphed into relief once she heard her grandma call out, "Hello? You there, Di?"

Thank God. Marie White was home, safe and sound, and she always knew what to do. Diana felt her eyes welling with tears again, but ignored it as she bounded out of her room and rushed down the stairs. She almost collided into her grandmother at the speed she was going and hugged her tightly.

Marie laughed. "I'm glad to see you too, kiddo." Diana said nothing and just hugged tighter. Marie's expression grew more serious. "What's going on? Why are you crying? Is this about your mum? I heard she had one of her moments again—she called me up to let me know. It's my fault, I shouldn't have agreed to stay overnight, but—"

"It's not that," Diana sniffed. She opened her mouth to explain, but found that she couldn't. Where would she even start? She pulled out the Hogwarts letter from her pocket and gave it to Marie, who read it with an expression that went from bewilderment to anger.

"Did someone give this to you?"

"It showed up outside my cabin at camp, but I threw it out since I thought it was a prank. But then I saw another outside the house today."

Marie frowned. "There's no post on Sunday."

"I know, but…" she bit her lip. Should she tell Marie the whole story? Diana wavered for a bit, but decided to tell Marie everything: about the letters, about the library, about Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick, and the supposed trial that was happening sometime today. If she couldn't tell Marie, who could she tell?

After Diana finished, looked at Diana with a serious expression. "Diana, I need you to tell me the truth here. I know this isn't your handwriting, but did you get someone to write this?"

Diana's heart shattered. "I'm not lying!"

Upon seeing her granddaughter's expression, Marie quickly backtracked. "I can see this really upsets you and I know you're an honest kid…I had to ask though." She hesitated. "What you're saying, honey, it….it can't be real. I'm sorry. I know you believe it to be true, but—"

"Do you–do you think I'm having some kind of mental breakdown? Do you think I'm like Mum? How could I imagine this letter when it's right here?" Could it be true though? Was Diana just hallucinating Flitwick and McGonagall? Diana wasn't sure the thought gave her more or less comfort than the idea that witches and wizards were real.

Marie bit her lip. "I didn't say that. It's just, well, there is no trial. There's no wizards. Sometimes what people say can get into our heads, and your mum…"

Diana looked away. She couldn't make eye contact anymore. "I would never want anything like this to happen. I wish I was hallucinating. I wish I was lying. But I'm not! You always trusted me before. Why not now?"

Marie looked guilty and surveyed her granddaughter's expression again. Her brow furrowed in contemplation. "You said these nutters mentioned your father was coming to get you, right?"

Diana shuddered. "Yeah…."

Marie was silent for a moment. Then, the gears in her mind started to spin as her mind came to a conclusion she would accept. "Maybe he really is rich and could afford all this crap. These people could have been paid actors."

"But I saw them do–" Diana didn't want to finish her sentence.

"You know what I think?" Marie said, voice growing with confidence. "I think there's a reasonable explanation for this. I think he did put these fools up to it. They might even be part of the same Satanist cabal that kidnapped your mother. Yes, that's it. They're being exposed on the telly left and right now—I just heard of a whole ring of 'em getting busted in Orkney. They can't stay in the shadows infiltrating daycares and shit anymore, so now they're like cornered rats. And they're going to try to take down as many good folks as they can with them, including you and your mother. Well, they're in for a rude surprise now, because I'm here and won't let those maggots get anywhere near my girls, you hear?"

Diana wanted to believe that these witches and wizards were like the people from the news, regular humans who could get foiled with the ease of a Scooby Doo villain and sent off to jail, but she knew it wasn't true. "I think they're real wizards, Grandma. I saw them do magic though…" she mumbled.

"Remember how those gits gave your mum a bunch of drugs?" She didn't. This was Marie White's speculation, but had never been confirmed, though Marie took it as fact. "I'll bet you ten pence that they did the same to you."

"But I didn't eat or drink anything!" That was true. She didn't even take a sip from the conjured cup for this very reason.

Marie waved the thought away. "Vapors in the air. It could create hallucinogens."

Diana wasn't sure if that was actually true or not, but Marie sounded confident.

"We're going to go to the police station first thing tomorrow to report this. Hopefully those fools won't be as fucking useless as they have been in the past. Worst case scenario, we'll at least start a paper trail."

"Shouldn't we try leaving the house? If my father really is trying to come and get me, we'll be sitting ducks."

"It's easier said than done to get up and leave for an indefinite period of time." Translation: They didn't have the money to do so without knowing the specifics. "For now, we stay. I'd like to see him try getting past me. I stabbed a man out of self defense once before, and I'll do it again, this time with pleasure. Things'll be fine, don't worry. But Diana"–she started to look more serious now–"you realize that this needs to stay between us for now, yeah? You can't go telling your mum about this."

Diana nodded numbly and hugged Marie, then headed back to bed early. She did not want to wait for her mother to come back from the art show. Her poker face was terrible, and she knew that Sarah finding out that Lucius Malfoy might be coming here would cause a shitstorm of epic proportions.

Predictably, she couldn't sleep. Her heart almost jumped out of her body when she heard some kind of thudding noise against her window. She jumped up, turned on the lights, and saw a fucking owl flapping its wings wildly outside her window, letter clutched in its talons.

She stared, debated for a moment, then opened the window, where the bird flew in and dropped the letter before flying back out the window. How sad is it that this isn't even the weirdest part of my day? She picked up the letter that was addressed to her and recognized McGonagall's neat cursive. She swallowed and read:

Dear Miss White,

I am sending this letter to regretfully inform you that the court ruled in Mr Malfoy's favor. Representatives from the Ministry will be coming to your residence in a couple days in order to relocate you to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire. Professor Dumbledore will attempt to send another set of Hogwarts representatives to 6 Ironwood Lane before that occurs, in order to best prepare you and answer any questions you may have.

As stated earlier, once you arrive at Hogwarts in September, the staff will support you as best possible. Please remember what I said earlier: Your magic belongs to you and no one else.

Please feel free to contact me with any questions or concerns you may have, and I will do everything in my power to help. The return address can be found on the envelope.

I will see you on 1 September.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

The rest of Diana's night alternated between staring numbly at the ceiling, sobbing into her pillow, and wishing for time to rewind so she could go back to being ignorant of the men and women with the power of gods who hid in the shadows. And while Diana was tossing and turning, many Muggles across Britain that night commented on the remarkably high amount of owls that seemed to be fluttering about the night sky.