Adrian entered the kitchen with the Hogwarts letter in one hand and the owl hopping behind him like an impatient debt collector.
His father looked up from the toaster.
“Why is there a bird in my house?” Peter asked.
Adrian pulled out a chair and sat down.
“It delivered this,” he said calmly, placing the heavy parchment on the table.
“The letter claims I am a wizard.” Peter stared at the parchment, then looked toward the kitchen doorway as though someone might be waiting there to laugh at him.
“This is a university prank,” he decided.
Claire ignored Peter and examined the envelope.
She turned it over twice, then frowned.
“There is no stamp,” Claire said, frowning.
“Or any ordinary delivery mark.” Peter read the letter twice before passing it to Claire.
Claire reached the final paragraph and frowned.
“It says a representative will visit at nine this morning.” Peter checked the kitchen clock.
It was eight fifty-two.
“Very efficient prank,” he said.
The owl hopped onto the back of a kitchen chair and watched Peter read the letter while finishing the nuts it had stolen upstairs.
At exactly nine, the doorbell rang.
Claire wiped her hands on a tea towel and went to open the door.
She pulled it back to reveal Minerva McGonagall.
Adrian froze.
The woman on the doorstep wore a fitted dark-green robe, sleeveless and cut low across the chest.
A slit opened along one leg, revealing black stockings whenever she moved.
Her silver-streaked hair was pulled back tightly, and her severe expression made the revealing robe look less like party wear and more like an official uniform.
Adrian had expected the stern professor from the films.
He had not expected the neckline, the stockings, or that much exposed thigh.
The owl might still have been late.
Minerva McGonagall definitely was not the version he remembered.
Before he had fully recovered from the shock, a pink screen materialized directly in his line of sight.
The system issued a blunt mission before he could even blink.
[PERVERT MISSION: Get caught staring at Minerva McGonagall’s cleavage.] [Reward: 5 Magical Memory Skill Fragments and 50 PP.] [Failure Penalty: Limp for 30 days.] Adrian stared at the floating brackets.
He tried to keep his eyes on Minerva’s face as Claire invited her into the kitchen and offered her a chair.
The system’s invisible countdown began in his head.
Given the choice between a limp dick for thirty days and getting caught staring, Adrian did not need time to think.
He met Minerva’s eyes, let his gaze fall to her cleavage for one very obvious second, then looked back up.
Minerva caught him instantly.
One eyebrow rose.
Adrian met her eyes again without pretending he had been studying the wallpaper.
She continued her introduction as though nothing had happened.
Under the kitchen table, Claire kicked Adrian sharply in the shin.
Across from him, Peter took a long sip of his tea to hide a grin.
[Mission Complete.] [Rewards received.] Minerva sat opposite Adrian and placed both hands neatly over one knee.
Peter leaned forward, putting his teacup down.
“With all due respect, Professor, we are going to need some proof.” Minerva drew her wand and pointed it at the family’s ugly standing lamp.
The lamp folded in on itself and landed on four paws as a silver tabby.
It circled Peter’s chair, sniffed Adrian’s investment notebook, then became a lamp again.
Claire gasped and immediately reached out to touch the lamp’s shade.
Peter leaned over and checked the electrical plug.
Adrian, however, narrowed his eyes and activated Magical Appraisal on the lamp.
Standing Lamp Condition: Functional Recent Effect: Transfiguration Remaining Trace: Fading Good.
Appraisal worked on real magic, not just system rewards.
Taking advantage of the stunned silence, Adrian decided to avoid blurting out that Hogwarts was supposed to recruit children.
He phrased a subtle admission question instead.
“How does Hogwarts decide when to send someone a letter?” Adrian asked.
“Is it based on ordinary school records, or does someone’s magic have to reach a certain point first?” Minerva looked at him with a hint of academic approval.
She explained the Quill of Acceptance and the Book of Admittance.
“The Quill of Acceptance reacts when a witch or wizard’s magic properly awakens.
If the Book of Admittance accepts the name, Hogwarts sends an invitation.
Most awaken around eighteen, although delayed awakenings are not unheard of.
Family, wealth, and blood have no influence on admission.” Adrian nodded slowly, keeping his reaction entirely internal.
He nodded slowly, keeping his surprise off his face.
So, the owl had not been late.
The films had simply left him with the wrong rules.
Claire recovered first.
“Where will he live?” she asked.
“How often can he come home?
How do we contact him?
What happens if he gets sick?” “And how much does this cost?” Peter added.
“Do you use pounds?
Are these qualifications recognised anywhere outside your community?” Minerva answered each question without rushing them.
Students lived at Hogwarts during term, returned home for major holidays, and communicated primarily through owl post.
The school had its own hospital wing, and Muggle-born families could exchange pounds for wizarding currency at Gringotts.
Claire’s final question was the simplest.
“Is Hogwarts safe?” Minerva’s answer came after the smallest pause.
“The castle has extensive protections.” Adrian noticed that she had not said yes.
Peter looked at Claire.
Claire looked at Adrian.
“We should at least see this place before deciding anything,” Peter said.
Minerva inclined her head.
“I can return tomorrow morning and escort all three of you to Diagon Alley.” She stood up and headed for the front door.
Just as Adrian thought the ordeal was over, a second pink screen flashed into existence.
[FOLLOW-UP MISSION: Ask whether every female professor dresses like her.] [Reward: 3 Social Nerve Fragments.] [Failure Penalty: Claire hears host’s next three dirty thoughts.] Adrian glanced at his mother.
Failure was not an option.
“Professor,” he called before Minerva reached the door.
“Is there a formal dress code at Hogwarts, or do the professors choose their own robes?” Minerva stopped and looked back at him.
Her eyes moved briefly to the neckline he had already been caught staring at.
“No, Mr Clarke.
Some professors prefer considerably more fabric.
You may find that disappointing.” “Right,” Adrian said.
“Very appropriate.” Claire closed her eyes.
Minerva’s mouth tightened at one corner.
“I suggest you learn discretion before September.” [MISSION COMPLETE.] [3 Social Nerve Fragments received.] She stepped outside and closed the door behind her.