Gray’s Secret 2: Chapter 2: Mrs.
Gray’s Secret The owl’s arrival was like a bombshell dropped into the quiet living room of the Grey family.
Arthur Weasley’s mouth formed an O as he pointed at the raptor outside the window, unable to get a word out for several seconds.
“Helen… is that… is that what you meant?” Helen reacted much faster.
She walked over quickly, opened the window with practiced ease, and let the owl fly inside.
She untied the letter, fished a small biscuit from her pocket, and fed it to the owl, her movements as natural as if she’d done it a thousand times.
“Yes, Arthur.” She handed the heavy envelope to Lynn, her voice carrying a resigned relief, as if the last piece of the puzzle had finally fallen into place.
“This is the proof.” Lynn took the letter.
The parchment felt rough beneath his fingers, with a strange, distinctive texture.
The wax seal on it was perfectly clear.
He didn’t rush to open it.
Instead, he looked at his mother.
“You knew all along?” “Not exactly.” Helen sat back down on the sofa and poured herself a glass of water, though her hand trembled slightly.
“My great-grandmother was a witch.
But in her time, that wasn’t something to boast about—it was even dangerous.
She married an ordinary man, my great-grandfather, and set down a rule: no descendant of the family was ever to touch magic again.” Lynn listened quietly, his mind racing as he organized the information.
So that was it.
He wasn’t Muggle-born; he was a descendant of Squibs, several generations removed.
No wonder his mother had accepted the existence of the magical world so quickly.
“That bloodline had grown very thin in our family.
My mother, my grandmother—none of them showed any talent.” Helen looked at Lynn, her eyes complex.
“Until you were born, Lynn.
You were too quiet, too clever—clever in a way that didn’t seem like a child.
I suspected, so I snuck back to the old house and found some diaries my great-grandmother had left.” She paused, as if recalling.
“The diaries mentioned Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, and that young witches and wizards who turn eleven receive a letter of admission.
So I’ve been waiting… waiting for today.” “Aren’t you afraid?” Lynn asked a crucial question.
“Yes.” Helen answered honestly, gripping her husband’s hand.
“I’m terrified.
I’m afraid that strange world will hurt you, afraid you’ll walk a path we can’t understand at all.
But I also know this is your gift, and we can’t pretend it doesn’t exist just because of our own fear.” Arthur Weasley squeezed his wife’s hand firmly and turned to Lynn, his face full of determination.
“Son, no matter who you are, wizard or anything else, you’re still our child.
We’ll be with you.” Lynn looked at the genuine concern on his parents’ faces.
It wasn’t a pretense.
Somewhere deep inside, a soft spot was touched.
But he didn’t show it.
He just nodded.
“Thanks.” Then, right in front of them, he tore open the envelope.
Emerald-green handwriting appeared before his eyes.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, President of the International Confederation of Wizards) Dear Mr.
Grey, 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.
P.S.
As the Grey family has had no contact with the magical world for many years, the school will send a professor to visit you to assist with your preparations.
Expected arrival time: tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.
“A professor coming to visit?” Arthur Weasley read the last line aloud, appearing nervous.
“How will they come?
By car?
Or… on a broomstick?” “Probably something more dignified.” Lynn folded the letter.
He already had a guess.
Little Whinging was not far from London.
The professor would most likely be the Transfiguration teacher.
Sure enough, the next day at exactly 9:59 a.m., the doorbell rang.
Helen nervously smoothed her clothes, while Arthur Weasley stood behind the door, gripping a… frying pan.
“Dad, I don’t think you need that.” Lynn said flatly.
“Just in case.” Arthur Weasley replied gravely.
Lynn shook his head, walked over, and opened the door himself.
Standing outside was a tall, stern-faced witch.
She wore a square-shaped hat and a set of emerald-green robes, with eyes sharp enough to pierce through a person.
Minerva McGonagall.
Lynn recognized her instantly.
“Good morning, Mr.
Grey.” Professor McGonagall’s gaze settled on Lynn, heavy with scrutiny.
“I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” “Hello, Professor McGonagall.
Please come in.” Lynn stepped aside, his manner neither servile nor arrogant.
Professor McGonagall entered the living room, her eyes sweeping over the nervous Grey couple and the frying pan Arthur Weasley had hidden behind his back.
The corner of her stern mouth seemed to twitch.
But she said nothing.
“I’ve come today to confirm Mr.
Grey’s intention to enroll and to answer any questions you may have about the magical world.” Her voice was clear and methodical, with a Scottish accent.
Arthur Weasley stammered, “Um… is magic real?
I mean, like pulling a rabbit out of a hat?” Professor McGonagall didn’t answer.
She simply raised her wand and gave it a light flick.
Under the Grey couple’s astonished gaze, the teacup on the table transformed into a live mouse that squeaked and ran a couple of laps across the table before changing back into a teacup with another flick.
Arthur Weasley’s frying pan clattered to the floor.
Helen covered her mouth, her eyes filled with disbelief.
Lynn hadn’t spoken the whole time.
He was observing.
He watched the faint glow that leaked from Professor McGonagall’s wand tip as she cast.
He caught the fleeting expression of pride that belonged to a seasoned educator.
And he also noticed the trace of surprise deep in her eyes when she looked at him.
Because from start to finish, Lynn’s expression hadn’t changed.
No shock, no curiosity, not even the excitement typical of a child.
He was like a true Spectator, appreciating a performance that had nothing to do with him.
“Mr.
Grey.” Professor McGonagall turned back to Lynn, her tone growing more serious.
“You don’t seem… surprised at all?” “I’m very surprised.” Lynn replied, his voice calm.
“It’s just that my surprise is probably different from Mom and Dad’s.
They’re surprised that ‘magic exists,’ while I’m surprised that magic can be so precise and elegant.” It was a perfect Ravenclaw answer.
It showed intelligence while explaining his composure.
Professor McGonagall’s searching gaze finally softened a little.
She nodded.
“It seems you’re well prepared.
Then tomorrow morning, I will take you to Diagon Alley to purchase everything you need for school.” “Go where?” Arthur Weasley picked up the frying pan and asked curiously.
“Diagon Alley.” Professor McGonagall said.
“Where wizards buy all their magical supplies.
However, Mr.
Grey, we need to go somewhere first.
Gringotts, the wizarding bank.
We need to confirm the status of the Grey family vault.” Helen asked in confusion, “Our family has a vault at a wizarding bank?” “Yes.” Professor McGonagall looked at Lynn, a hint of inquiry in her eyes.
“Your great-grandmother, Eileen Prince Grey, never closed her vault at Gringotts when she left the magical world.
According to bank regulations, that property will be inherited by the first descendant in her bloodline to awaken magical talent.” She paused, then added, “That is you, Mr.
Lynn Grey.”