Violet Potter snorted as she kicked the strange letter through the slot between the floor and the broom cupboard under the stairs, not thinking, not hoping. There had been a spark, which she brutally snuffed out. It's a prank, or one of those religious tract things. But then how do they know where I sleep at night? Making a mental note to barricade her door and window tonight, and also wondering whether she might salvage some nice paper from the letter, she handed Uncle Vernon the rest of the mail.
"Thanks," he said flatly. She hurried back over to the stove, turning off the heat and wrinkling her nose at the smell of the hardboiled eggs, then balancing her plate on her knees as she sat down in the corner of the kitchen farthest from the Dursleys.
"Marge is ill. Ate a funny whelk. This bill though! I can't believe they're charging that much just for property taxes this year…"
Violet tuned Uncle Vernon out, slowly peeling her egg and wishing it wasn't the start of the summer holidays. Her, a witch? That sort of thing was all just special effects.
Well, there had been the time when she had ended up on the roof of the school when the playground just became too chaotic one afternoon, but she had read a story at the library about how mothers could lift cars off of their kids if they really needed to. Strength under that kind of stress. She supposed she had harnessed that kind of effect into her jump, because she was sore for days afterwards.
And the times the Dursleys, especially during school breaks, would cut down on her food. Some especially hungry days, she would miss her usual breakfast, what she had eaten now for as long as she could remember (when she wasn't being punished), and another egg or half slice of toast would appear when she turned her back. It had to be one of the Dursleys sneaking her something extra, though she couldn't figure out why, or how any of them had ever learned sleight of hand.
I never set that boa constrictor on anyone. Even suspicious Aunt Petunia had admitted that that glass had obviously been defective from the start. Cracking, then shattering, just because her Dudley had lightly tapped on it? Still, causing a scene in public and a sort of general dislike of her had led to the current state of half-sized meals. That, and she was too expensive, Aunt Petunia said every time Violet needed clothes or shoes. She had never had anything except underwear and socks that was truly new.
But she had only wanted to (hear?) the snake better. That in itself was an absurd thought. She didn't really talk to the snake, she must just have been good at reading its body language and anthropomorphized it as she thought about her own life.
She bolted the last of her pitiful breakfast and stood up to get Aunt Petunia more coffee and start her chores. It was another Monday in the Dursley household. She had to keep everything looking clean and right. Aunt Petunia was strict and obsessed with reputation. Be smart, but not more than Dudley. Don't complain. Don't ask questions. Act grateful for your home, such as it is. Earn your keep.
A few hours later, Violet slipped into the cool of the Surrey Public Library, stopping to drink her fill at the child-sized water fountain. A corner of the strange letter poked her in the hip as she leaned over, then walked up to the reception desk.
"Good morning, Ms. Kaur. Could I please borrow a pen? I promise you'll get it back," she asked the dark-haired young librarian.
"All right, Ms. Potter. But only because you're the only person here who doesn't keep accidentally walking off with them," the librarian chuckled, rummaging for one that still had ink in it.
Violet hurried into the depths of the stacks for privacy, not wanting others to see any possible reaction to this prank on her face. Sitting with her back against the window in a puddle of late-morning light, she finally opened the oddly thick envelope. A light breeze from outside, played with her long red hair.
The prank was well-executed and expensive. She had never held this type of thick, creamy paper before, and the ink looked handwritten with an old-fashioned pen, not ballpoint. Dear Ms. Potter, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…She scanned the two pages, then flipped them back over to the blank side. In her best handwriting, pulling a dictionary into her lap to use as a desk, she responded.
To whom it may concern:
This prank was well-done. But, you won't catch me believing in fairy tales. Witches and wizards as you describe them don't exist, and the ones that claim to be such are fraudsters with only a spooky manner and the ability to fake a few minor tricks. Please do not write to me again, because I don't want trouble from my aunt and uncle and only kept the letter so I could use the rest of this fine paper you probably paid too much for at a print shop. Thanks for that.
Violet Potter
Stuffing the rest of the letter into the pocket of her secondhand skirt by folding it over, she stood up, setting her reply on the windowsill momentarily as a small sparrow sang in the tree just outside. She'd return the pen, and put her answer in the mailbox when she got home. But that momentary distraction was all she needed to forget the piece of paper. At least, until she had almost reached the librarian's desk.
"What's wrong, beta?" The woman noticed a slight frown cross Violet's face.
"Nothing much. I just forgot something in the stacks. Here's your pen back. Thanks." Violet sighed and hurried back to where she had been sitting, but the reply letter was gone. She just hoped that whoever the prankster was, they didn't write again. She would get all the mail for the Dursleys for a while.
The summer days passed quickly, between chores, gardening, and reading at the library to avoid Dudley and his friends. The Dursleys weren't stupid, and cared enough about reputation to keep their son from beating up all the other kids or hurting Violet too visibly, but he was still likely to try something if there wasn't an adult around. She had nearly put the prank letter out of her mind until someone spoke to her in the mystery section.
"Good morning, Ms. Potter. And happy birthday." She looked up, expecting Ms. Kaur, but this voice was more clipped, and Scottish to boot. A tall woman with greying brown hair in a tight bun, wearing an ill-fitting skirt suit, had spoken.
"Thank you. But, I don't know who you are. How do you know it's my birthday? Have you been stalking me?" Heart pounding, Violet backed into one end of the row.
"Och, lass. I shan't hurt you. I received your reply to the Hogwarts letter." The woman sighed.
"Ha ha, very funny. Did Dudley put you up to this? You have a good costume, though, you really do look like an adult."
"This is not a prank, dear. I am a teacher at Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall, come to help explain everything to you-"
Violet actually laughed then. "I suppose you're now going to tell me I'm a witch? What can I do, bend spoons and bilk gullible people out of their money?" she interrupted.
"But you are a witch, Violet. A real one. Witches- and wizards- can do things. It's not fakery and snake oil."
Violet rolled her eyes. "Either show me some real proof of magic- not a show trick, not something small you could fake- or go away. The joke's over. I'd like to get back to reading now." She strangled the tiny, improbable shoot of hope in her chest that had somehow risen again.
"We're not supposed to perform magic in this world, but I don't need a wand for...yes, I suppose, I am registered with the Ministry…" the strange woman said to herself.
And then she transformed. Violet watched every moment closely, unable to tear her eyes away, but seeing a body shrink, twist, crack, and bend all the wrong ways, transform and look like such an eldritch horror in between, was too much for her. She actually threw up on the small tabby cat with spectacle markings, closing her eyes to try to make the images of the strange in-between state disappear.
"Ugh. Violet, are you all right? Sit down." McGonagall, human again, used her height over the slight red-haired girl to make her sit leaning against one of the shelves, noticing how her legs were shaking. She wriggled out of the professor's grasp.
"Sorry...Professor? You...turned into a cat. You turned into a cat. That's not…and then you turned back…"
"Here, lass. Chew this." She found a sprig of mint in one of her many robe pockets. "And take a few deep breaths. Seeing a human transformation can be quite unsettling at first. Stay here. I'll get you some water."
"You turned into a cat. How?" A few minutes later, Violet actually found enough coherent thought to speak, then gulped from the small paper cup the professor had given her.
"Not so fast, dear. I'm an Animagus. It's very rare to be able to change into an animal, and you can't choose your form. I only showed you because you wanted proof of magic, but it's better for me not to use my wand in the Muggle- that is, non-magic- world. I didn't know it would upset you."
"Sorry. It is proof after all. I just thought that you, the letter, was a prank until you did that."
McGonagall's eyebrows knitted, her jaw clenched. "And why would you think that magic was a prank, Ms. Potter? Did your aunt and uncle never tell you?"
"Tell me what?" Violet spat out the chewed mint leaf and shoved it out of the window. This had to be important. The woman seemed angry, and Violet always knew that the Dursleys never told her everything they knew about her background. They never discussed her parents, the crash, or the scar on her forehead usually hidden by side swept bangs.
"Tell you what?" McGonagall echoed. "Don't you wonder where your parents learned it all?"
"All what?"
"All what? You mean you never heard of magic before today? Och, I am going to tear Dumbledore a new arse- sorry, I didn't mean to curse, dear- but you know nothing about anything?"
"That's not true!" Violet almost shouted. "Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon really want Dudley and I to do well in school! We read and study a lot. She likes for her family to look good. I never get quite as good grades as Dudley, but I read more, so I think I might know more than he does. That's not nothing!"
"I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I meant, you never knew that your parents could do magic? That you would go to school to learn, when you were older? Dumbledore said he left a letter…" McGonagall trailed off, then brightened again, speaking more calmly.
"Violet, have you ever made anything strange or unusual happen around you? Something you can't explain? Maybe when you're upset?"
"I'm not sure, Professor. Once, I jumped behind the school dumpsters and ended up on the roof. But I always thought that happened because I had hysterical strength, or there was a gust of wind in mid-jump. I was really sore afterwards. And sometimes, when the Dursleys give me less food, more of it will show up when I turn my back. If I'm very hungry. I always thought one of them was sneaking me extra."
Mind reeling, she stared at a small stack of books next to her on the floor. And the top one moved, flying towards her and almost hitting her in the face. She had felt a vague, unfocused force pulse through her, and the book moved! She had done that!
"I'm...a...witch. I can...do…" Violet gasped.
"Correct, my lass. Let's get cleaned up, and I'll walk you home. We need to have a word with your aunt and uncle before I take you to get your school supplies. If you're feeling better."
"All right. I'll be fine. Just don't transform again." She grinned; she had never seen anyone as mad at the Dursleys as McGonagall was right now.