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 Mr. Acton,
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 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagallDeputy Headmistress
James's eyes scanned the words he'd been waiting four years to read. Accepted. It was real. All of it was real.
The second page detailed the requirements:
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK
Yours sincerely,Lucinda Thomsonicle-PocusChief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions
Dragon hide. Cauldrons. Owls. A wand.
James looked up, meeting Professor McGonagall's knowing gaze. Before he could speak, his mother firmly took the letter from his hands.
"Let me see that," Yara said, her voice tight with confusion. She and Michael crowded together, reading the parchment in stunned silence.
After a long moment, Michael looked up at Professor McGonagall, his face carefully neutral.
"This is a very elaborate and very strange joke."
"I assure you, Mr. Acton, this is no joke." McGonagall's voice was crisp and professional. Likely because she was long since used to dealing with unbelieving parents of muggleborns after so many years as a teacher.
"Witchcraft and wizardry," Yara said flatly. "You expect us to believe that magic is real? That our son is a... a wizard?"
"Not believe, Mrs. Acton. Accept." McGonagall stood gracefully, her emerald robes rustling. "I understand this is difficult. Most Muggleborn families react with skepticism. It's quite natural."
"Muggleborn?" Michael repeated.
"A witch or wizard born to non-magical parents," McGonagall explained. "Your son possesses magical ability despite neither of you being magical yourselves. It's not uncommon. Roughly one in twenty magical children are Muggleborn."
Yara shook her head. "This is insane. Magic doesn't exist".
"There is a rational explanation, Mrs. Acton. Magic." McGonagall's expression remained patient, though James detected a hint of amusement. "Perhaps a demonstration would be more convincing than words?"
Before either parent could respond, McGonagall drew her wand from within her robes. The movement was so smooth, and practiced, that it took James's breath away. This was what a real witch looked like.
She pointed her wand at the coffee table. "Vera Verto."
The solid wood rippled like water, reshaping itself, fur sprouting across its surface. Within seconds, a large tortoise stood where the table had been, blinking slowly at the shocked Actons.
Yara made a strangled sound. Michael took an involuntary step backward.
McGonagall wasn't finished. With a flick of her wand, the tortoise rose into the air, floating serenely at eye level. Another gesture, and the umbrella stand in the corner transformed into a small, chirping bird. The curtains became a cascade of butterflies that fluttered around the room.
Then, with a casual wave, rain began to fall inside the drawing room. Actual rain, drops pattering against the furniture, and drenching the floor, furniture, and his stunned parents.
"Bloody hell," Michael whispered.
Another flick, and the rain stopped. The water evaporated instantly, leaving everything perfectly dry. The butterflies became curtains again. The bird became an umbrella stand. The tortoise became a coffee table.
The room was exactly as it had been, except for the three people whose understanding of reality had just been fundamentally shattered in the span of a minute.
McGonagall tucked her wand away and sat back down, perfectly composed. "As I said, Mr. and Mrs. Acton, magic is quite real. Your son is a wizard."
There was a long, heavy silence. Yara sank into a chair, her surgeon's mind clearly struggling to process what she'd just witnessed. Michael remained standing, his lawyer's composure cracking at the edges.
"I know this is difficult to accept," McGonagall said gently. "But I must ask: has anything unusual ever happened around James? Unexplained events, objects moving on their own, things that defied logical explanation?"
James felt three pairs of eyes turn toward him. His heart hammered in his chest. This was the moment. The moment he'd been dreading and anticipating in equal measure.
His parents would learn the truth. Part of it, anyway.
"I..." he started, then stopped. He looked at his mother's shocked face, his father's bewildered expression, Professor McGonagall's knowing gaze.
Then, slowly, James raised his hand and focused. The coffee table rose smoothly into the air, floating exactly as McGonagall had made it float moments before. He moved it in a gentle circle around the room, then set it down precisely where it had been.
Yara gasped. Michael's mouth fell open.
"I found out about it years ago," James said quietly, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. "I thought it was telekinesis."
"James," his mother breathed. "How long have you known?"
He turned to face them fully. "Since I was five. The car accident, remember? When that car almost hit me and swerved at the last second?"
"Oh my god," Yara whispered, her hand covering her mouth. "That was you?"
James nodded. "I didn't understand what happened. I just knew that I'd done something, I felt like I pushed something. I could feel it in my veins like a buzz. After that, I started experimenting. Small things at first. Moving pencils, lifting books. I thought it was some kind of psychic ability."
"That's why," Michael said slowly, realization dawning. "All the studying. The sciences, the physics, the biology. You were trying to understand what you could do."
"I wanted to know how it worked," James admitted. It was easier to tell a partial truth than a complete lie. "I thought if I understood the fundamental forces of the universe, I could understand my ability. I trained and practiced it. It is actually stronger now."
"You hid this from us for six years?" Yara's voice was thick with emotion. "James, why didn't you tell us?"
"I was scared," James said, and that much was absolutely true. "I didn't know what was happening to me. I didn't know if you'd believe me, or if you'd think I was crazy, or if you'd be afraid of me. So I kept it secret and tried to figure it out on my own."
Tears were streaming down Yara's face. She crossed the room in three quick strides and pulled James into a fierce embrace. "Sweetie, we would never be afraid of you. Never. You're our son. We love you, no matter what powers you have or don't have."
Michael joined them, wrapping his arms around both of them. "Always, James. No matter what. You understand?"
James felt something crack in his chest, something he'd been holding rigid for years. He returned the embrace, letting himself be a child for just a moment,and letting himself accept the unconditional love his parents offered.
When they finally pulled apart, all three of them had damp eyes. Professor McGonagall watched with an expression of quiet approval.
"A touching moment," she said, her voice softer than before. "But Mr. Acton, you mentioned training your abilities. What exactly do you mean by that?"
James hesitated, then decided to show rather than tell. He focused on several objects around the room simultaneously. Books from the shelf, cushions from the sofa, his father's reading glasses, his mother's teacup. All rose into the air at once, floating in a complex pattern around the room. He made them orbit each other, swap positions, and move in perfect synchronization.
All without saying a word or a wand.
McGonagall's eyebrows rose so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline. "Wordless magic. Wandless magic. Multiple objects simultaneously. Mr. Acton, how long have you been practicing?"
"Six years," James admitted, carefully setting everything back in place. "I didn't know they were spells. I just knew I could move things with my mind, so I worked on it. Made it stronger and more precise. Like exercising a muscle."
"Extraordinary," McGonagall murmured. "Most adult wizards struggle with silent casting. Even fewer can manage wandless magic. And here you've been doing both since you were five years old."
She studied him with new intensity, and James felt a flutter of anxiety.
Had he revealed too much? Would she wonder how a child with no knowledge of magic had developed such control?
But McGonagall simply nodded, her expression thoughtful. "You're clearly quite talented, Mr. Acton. Hogwarts will serve you well. It is the best wizarding school in the world."
She turned her attention back to his parents, slipping smoothly into what was clearly a well-practiced speech. "Now, I understand you have questions. Let me provide some context about the world your son will be entering."
Michael and Yara sat down, still looking shell-shocked. James remained standing, his mind racing.
"There is an entire hidden society existing alongside the mundane world," McGonagall began. "In Britain alone, there are approximately half a million magical people living completely invisible to non-magical society. We call non-magical people Muggles, and we've gone to great lengths to ensure they remain unaware of our existence."
"Half a million people," Michael repeated. "How is that possible? How has no one noticed?"
"Magic, Mr. Acton. We have ways of hiding in plain sight, of making Muggles overlook what they're not meant to see. It's been this way for centuries, codified into law by the Statute of Secrecy in 1692."
She conjured a stack of papers from thin air, making Yara jump. "These will provide more detailed information, but let me cover the basics."
For the next hour, McGonagall explained the wizarding world with the patience of someone who'd done this hundreds of times. She described Hogwarts in detail: a castle in Scotland, housing roughly ten thousand students aged eleven to seventeen, teaching magic in all its forms.
"The subjects include Transfiguration, which I teach," she said with evident pride. "Charms, Potions, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, History of Magic, and others that are electives in the third year. Students take their Ordinary Wizarding Levels after five years, and Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests after seven."
James listened intently, comparing what she said to what he remembered from the books. It matched, detail for detail.
The four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin. The house system and the points.
All of it exactly as he knew it would be.
"The magical government is called the Ministry of Magic," McGonagall continued. "It's a democracy, with a Minister for Magic at its head. The current Minister is Cornelius Fudge. The Ministry handles everything from law enforcement to regulation of magical creatures to international relations with other magical governments."
She pulled out several more pamphlets. "Here you'll find information about Gringotts Wizarding Bank, run by goblins. They handle all magical currency and can exchange Muggle money for wizarding money. The exchange rate is one hundred pounds sterling to one Galleon. There's a limit of one hundred Galleons per year for Muggleborn students or their guardians. This resets annually on your birthday, Mr. Acton, and doesn't carry over. So if you only exchange twenty Galleons in one year, the remaining eighty don't roll forward. You'll have a fresh allowance of one hundred Galleons each year."
"That's ten thousand pounds per year," Michael calculated quickly. "Why the limit?"
"To prevent destabilization of our economy," McGonagall explained. "The wizarding economy is relatively small and stable. Allowing unlimited exchange of Muggle currency could cause significant disruption. The limit ensures fairness while still providing more than adequate funds for anyone entering our world."
She produced another document, this one clearly magical. It shimmered faintly in the lamplight. "This is a secrecy agreement. The Statute of Secrecy is taken very seriously. You must not disclose information about the magical world to any unaware person. Violations can result in memory modification or, in extreme cases, criminal prosecution."
Michael's lawyer instincts kicked in. "We're signing a legally binding document about a world we just learned existed an hour ago?"
"Would you prefer I obliviate you and leave James to navigate this world alone?" McGonagall's tone was pleasant, but there was steel underneath.
Michael and Yara exchanged a look, then both signed the document. The signatures glowed briefly before fading into the parchment.
"Regarding finances," McGonagall continued, "Hogwarts tuition is completely free. Room, board, and education are all provided. The school list may look expensive, but it's quite manageable. Twenty Galleons is more than sufficient for first years. In subsequent years, five Galleons will cover the required supplies if one purchases only what's listed."
"And if a family can't afford even that?" Yara asked.
"There is aid available for students in financial need. However," McGonagall glanced at the well-appointed drawing room, "I assume that won't be necessary for your family."
"No," Michael agreed. "We can manage."
McGonagall produced a ticket from her robes and handed it to James. It was thick card stock, printed with elegant script: Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, 1st September, 11:00 AM.
"Guard this carefully, Mr. Acton. You'll need it to access the platform. Without it, you won't be able to enter. The Hogwarts Express is a tradition dating back over a century. All students take the train from King's Cross Station on September first."
"Platform Nine and Three-Quarters?" James asked, though he knew the answer.
"It can be entered through the wall between the platforms nine and ten. You'll see when you get there. It's quite ingenious, really." McGonagall stood, smoothing her robes. "Now, you'll need to purchase your supplies. Shall we say Saturday? I can collect you at ten in the morning and escort you to Diagon Alley. That's our main shopping district."
"Saturday works," Michael confirmed.
"Excellent. Bring cash for the currency exchange. Gringotts doesn't accept cards."
McGonagall moved toward the door, then paused.
"Oh, and Mr. Acton? While your early mastery of wandless magic is impressive, I would suggest you refrain from practicing spells until you have proper instruction. Magic without training can be dangerous."
James nodded solemnly, fully intending to ignore that advice the moment she left.
McGonagall's lips pressed together as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. "I'll see you Saturday. Welcome to the wizarding world, Mr. Acton."
With a crack of displaced air, she vanished.
The three Actons stood in the suddenly empty drawing room, staring at the space where Professor McGonagall had been standing.
The silence stretched, heavy with implication.
Finally, Michael spoke. "Did that really just happen?"
"I think so," Yara said faintly. She looked at James, really looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. "Our son is a wizard."
"I'm a wizard," James repeated, testing the words. After four years of knowing, of preparing, of practicing in secret, he could finally say it out loud.
Michael sank onto the sofa, running his hands through his hair. "Magic is real. There's an entire hidden society of half a million people we never knew about. Our son can make things float with his mind. I think I need a drink."
"I think we all need a drink," Yara muttered. She crossed to James and cupped his face in her hands. "Six years you carried this secret. Six years of being afraid, of not knowing what was happening to you."
"I'm sorry," James said. "I didn't know how to tell you."
"We're not angry. Just sad that you felt you had to hide." She kissed his forehead. "But no more secrets, yes? We're in this together now."
James nodded, guilt twisting in his gut. Because he was still keeping secrets.
Michael stood and pulled James into another hug. "A wizard. My son is going to learn magic." He laughed, slightly hysterical. "Do you know how insane that sounds?"
"Pretty insane," James agreed.
"Saturday," Yara said, trying to regain some composure. "We're going to a magical shopping district on Saturday. To buy you a wand. And a cauldron. And dragon hide gloves."
"Dragon hide," Michael repeated. "Dragons are real."
"Apparently so," Yara said. She looked at the pamphlets McGonagall had left behind. "We should read these. All of them. If James is going to this school, we need to understand what he's getting into."
"Agreed," Michael said. "James, go get your birthday dessert from the kitchen. Your mother made that mango kulfi you like. We'll eat, we'll read, and we'll try to wrap our heads around the fact that magic is real."
James retrieved the dessert, and they returned to the dining table. The chicken tikka masala had gone cold, forgotten in the chaos of the revelation. They ate the kulfi in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.