On the early morning of July 29th, dark clouds hung low in the sky, accompanied by gusts of cool wind.
A tabby cat nimbly dodged past pedestrians.
It bounded into an alley, and shortly afterward, a stern-faced woman wearing an emerald-green cloak stepped out.
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, had come here to persuade a Muggle family, as well as to verify and evaluate certain points mentioned in the young gentleman’s reply.
She reached out and pressed the doorbell of the White residence.
Mrs.
Sarah White, who was just about to head out, froze.
Staring at the guest in the emerald-green cloak, she asked hesitantly, “May I help you?” “I am the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Professor of Transfiguration, Minerva McGonagall,” Professor McGonagall said with a serious expression.
“I am visiting after receiving Mr.
Ethan White’s reply.” “Hogwarts?
A school of magic?” Incredulity and disbelief flashed through Mrs.
Sarah White’s eyes.
Of course, if not for those two essays yesterday, her reaction would have been far more drastic—she might even have called the police.
Suppressing her panic, she stammered somewhat incoherently, “It’s…
truly an honor to meet you, Professor McGonagall.
I’m Sarah White, Ethan’s mother.
Please, come in!” Professor McGonagall was also surprised.
She had expected to expend quite a bit more breath, or even employ a few minor tricks, since convincing Muggles that magic was real—and not just stage tricks—was never easy.
She followed Mrs.
White through the front yard and into the living room, taking in the house while watching Mrs.
White hurriedly set out orange juice and cake.
The living room was furnished with a set of brown fabric sofas, a coffee table, and a television set.
The kitchen held a few white appliances, and the air still bore the aroma of freshly baked quiche.
On the coffee table stood teacups and a biscuit tin.
The whole house was quite small, showing no trace of an Extension Charm.
There were hardly any empty corners, but it was clear the owner took care to keep things tidy, so it didn’t feel cluttered.
It seemed Mr.
White’s family was indeed somewhat tight on funds.
Professor McGonagall nodded imperceptibly.
“Mrs.
White, you don’t seem particularly surprised by my arrival?” “Oh, no, I’m utterly shocked!” Mrs.
White said hurriedly.
“In fact, until last night, I couldn’t believe there was actually a magic school in this world.” Professor McGonagall understood and said, “I see.
Then you must have met our owl postman.” Mrs.
White shook her head; she had only seen young Ethan’s two essays.
“Last night, Ethan suddenly started asking me about magic and wizards.
I knew nothing about it, but he had apparently anticipated that and prepared two essays in advance…
Only at the very end did I learn about the magic school.” “An extraordinary approach indeed,” Professor McGonagall mused.
“Essays about wizards?” “No, one was a sociological research report, and the other was his personal argument on happiness.
He wants to…
to learn magic.” Mrs.
White sighed, still finding the whole situation somewhat absurd.
She would have preferred young Ethan to attend Roger Secondary School, but unfortunately, after their debate last night, she had lost.
She hesitated before speaking in a low voice.
“I would still like to see magic with my own eyes.
Even though young Ethan assured me it’s all real, he is, after all, only eleven.” “Of course.
That is one of the reasons for my visit.” Professor McGonagall drew her wand, pointed it at a teacup on the table, and uttered, “Vera Verto!” The teacup instantly turned into a large tabby cat, lazily stretching its back, its vivid blue eyes striking and beautiful.
Professor McGonagall tapped her wand in the air several more times.
The vase transformed into a goose, the table into a doe, and another teacup into a flock of small birds.
Mrs.
White gasped in astonishment, her eyes wide as she fumbled in panic.
“Oh, heavens!
Am I really not dreaming?” Hearing the commotion from upstairs, Ethan hurried down the stairs.
As soon as he stepped into the living room, he saw the place filled with small animals.
When he saw who was standing there, he caught his breath.
Professor Minerva McGonagall?
“Oh, Ethan!
Look!
The cup turned into a cat!
It really is magic!” “Yes, Mum, I see it.” His mother was so overwhelmed that her speech was barely coherent.
Professor McGonagall looked at Ethan, her gaze carrying a searching intensity that no one else could decipher.
“Hello, Mr.
Ethan White.
I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Professor of Transfiguration.” Ethan bowed his head slightly.
“Welcome, Professor McGonagall.
I didn’t expect to meet you so soon.” The professor’s efficiency was downright intimidating!
And that owl, too—did it fly back to Hogwarts in a single night?
“Mr.
White, I have received your letter.
Rest assured, the school makes every effort to ensure that all new students can enroll smoothly,” Professor McGonagall said concisely.
With a wave of her wand, all the animals instantly reverted to their original forms.
Mrs.
White, who had been exclaiming in wonder a moment ago, immediately invited Professor McGonagall to sit down, then couldn’t help glancing at the excited young Ethan.
Indeed, no one could resist the wonder of magic, not even clever young Ethan.
She sighed inwardly and asked nervously, “I would be delighted for young Ethan to attend your school, but is there anything we need to do?” Professor McGonagall nodded and said solemnly, “Under the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, parents and the school must sign a Secrecy Oath.
It carries a binding magical force to ensure you will not reveal anything regarding wizards to anyone.
In the minds of most Muggles, magic does not exist.” Mrs.
White understood immediately.
No wonder she had never heard of any of this!
A moment later, she asked even more anxiously, “Professor, may I ask if attending your school requires paying seven years of tuition upfront?” Ethan, who was pouring tea nearby, perked up his ears as well.
Professor McGonagall glanced at Ethan and shook her head slightly.
“The school does not charge students for tuition or room and board.
The Ministry of Magic covers these expenses.” “Furthermore, Mr.
Ethan White submitted an application for financial assistance.
If approved, the school will provide him with a sum to purchase the necessary textbooks and supplies for enrollment.” What?
A magic school that doesn’t charge tuition?
Was it state-funded?
Mrs.
White was dumbfounded.
However, unable to hide her delight, she said, “We are so grateful for the generosity of the school and the Ministry of Magic!
Truthfully, if I weren’t so old, I’d love to learn magic myself.
It really is marvelous!” “In truth, Madam…” Professor McGonagall explained, “only individuals who possess magic are recorded by the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance.
Once they turn eleven, the school dispatches an acceptance letter.” Mrs.
White fell silent for a moment and smiled sheepishly.
“I only…
well, please understand.
After all, no one who sees magic could remain unmoved.”