Chương 3: McGonagall

I hadn't only read non-fiction in my past life. In literature, a person being transported into a fictional world was called transmigration. It was somehow comforting to finally have a name for what happened to me. I'd read Harry Potter— obviously—but only the main series. As for the movies, I'd seen the main series and the first installment of Fantastic Beasts before losing interest. I'd also played Hogwarts Legacy after it released to overwhelmingly positive reviews.

I had a good memory—much better than average—but it wasn't perfect, and it had been a few years since I finished them. The comfort of knowing where I was, and the excitement over the possibility of magic were starkly opposed to how frantic my thoughts had suddenly become. My whole future had just been uprooted for something far more promising. The second time within months. Assuming I wasn't making a spectacular fool of myself. Magic was real. I had magic.

Summer of 1992, that would mean Harry is starting his second year at Hogwarts this fall. The Chamber of Secrets. I was starting wizard school the year a basilisk was set loose on muggle-borns. I was muggle-born. Was I living inside a book world… or, was a book I'd read in a previous life an accurate description to the dimension in which I now lived? Magic was real. A war was starting within the next five years. Ms Parish was talking to Professor McGonagall right now.

I needed to go there—to hear what was said and try to doctor my reputation before the first impression was ruined. People were going to die. People I knew—somewhat—by reading about their lives. Could I change that? I had accidentally been tormenting everyone around me with unconscious magic. Pranks weren't nearly as fun or harmless without thoughtful intent, or the ability to pull the plug if they started getting too serious. The revelations hit me one after another. I still needed proof.

Somewhere beneath the panic, excitement threatened to bubble over. I had Magic. I forced myself to calm down and focus. Barging in on their conversation or being caught eavesdropping wasn't going to help my reputation with a future teacher. And McGonagall knew magic, she'd probably catch me if I tried. When unsure, blend in. I needed to act the role of a new, unimportant student. At least until I got my bearings and could form a plan. I needed a reason to approach the two adults. The letter was still in my hand.

A quick check of my surroundings found that no one was paying special attention to me. I opened the letter. Two pieces of parchment were inside. Parchment. Not paper.

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 Miss Parish, 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 McGonagall Deputy Headmistress The 'Miss Parish' part threw me for a second until I remembered that it was my legal last name. Foundlings in the UK were often given the name of either: the one who first came across the baby, the baby's first caretaker, their first pediatrician, or their first legal guardian until adoption. I wasn't sure how many of those roles Ms Parish filled for me, but she definitely qualified for the last.

It's also why McGonagall is talking to her instead of anyone else. I realized. I scanned the letter again.

Memorizing it and looking for anything out of place. I saw nothing. Still, not a lot of information. If I was wrong about the publication date, and it was a prank, then it'd need to be performed on a fan of the series for maximum effect, and we definitely didn't have the books here. I'd been through our local collection enough to know that for certain.' Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore'. A chill creeped up my back. He's going to be dead in a few years. As were so many others. Could I save them?

I checked my surroundings again. Still no one paying attention to me. A common error a lot of people made with pranks was to give into the urge to see the outcome personally. A criminal always returns to the scene of the crime. The proverb wasn't actually true for most 'purpose driven' deeds. Both intelligent and fearful individuals often avoided any link possible to identify them. But when someone did something solely for the emotional payoff, it often led to a need for the culprit to witness the results.

Pranks definitely fell into this category, and I doubted anyone here had read up on enough criminal psychology to adjust their tells. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. It's really happening. I glanced at the second parchment with the school supplies listed; then recoiled at the Lockhart selection. Second year. The Chamber of Secrets. The basilisk. I needed to plan. Actually, I needed to plan for the whole series. Scabbers. Voldemort. The horcruxes.

All the deaths. Do I just inform McGonagall? No, I should wait for arrival and talk to Dumbledore. He'd be in a better position to verify everything and act on it. He should also have a better idea of what should be done. Keep pretending to be ordinary for now. I gathered the letter and stood up. I had a thin excuse for interrupting their conversation now. Ms Parish's office was on the second floor. First floor, by British standards. It was my first time climbing the stairs here and the effort was exhausting.

After a short break, I found her door and knocked. The muted voices gave way to footsteps and Ms Parish opened the door.

"Lyra," she greeted in her usual brusque manor. She didn't look like someone who had just had the existence of magic explained to her. So they were just discussing me. Wonderful. I glanced at the older woman. She looked less refined than the movie portrayal—her facial features more tight and narrow, her lips thinner, her expression more stern, her eyes more prominent—but the similarities were there. Did Maggie Smith wear glasses? I always had an easier time remembering text over visuals.

"Hello, Madam Parish." I said, turning my politeness on full blast, "Father Rubens gave me this letter."

"Ahh, yes." She looked to the Professor.

"Hello, Lyra. We were just discussing you and the letter as a matter of fact. I expect you have some questions?" Her voice was sharper too. A bit misleading; the McGonagall in the books showed a distinct fondness for troublemakers even if she also punished them. Time to embrace a role, and lie through a series of perfectly truthful and misleading statements. Direct lies were dangerous. Not just because of magic that can detect such things, but because they often require maintenance.

It was almost always better to leave important information unsaid and let the other person make their own misinterpretations.

"Yes, Madam. You arrived with the letter? Do you know what it says?" Ms Parish gave me a suspicious look. She was perhaps the one person in this life who knew me well enough at this point to know I was never normally this respectful. Questions were very safe though. They revealed almost nothing and were an effective way to keep the other person talking. Even better, if I get called out on asking something I already knew, I could just say I'm confirming information. I tried not to meet her eyes.

The Professor McGonagall in the books wasn't an accomplished Legilimens, but better safe than sorry. I'll take being seen as shy over her realizing I'm heavily relying on manipulative tactics. I should also try to avoid thinking about certain topics. I almost grimaced at the thought. Controlling my thoughts had never been a strong suit for me, and I never had a legitimate need to do something like that before, so I never really practiced it. I needed to learn Occlumancy. Highest priority. My mind was my own.

No one else's.

"I do, and you can call me Professor McGonagall."

"From the letter? So you teach at Hogwarts?"

"I do, and, without beating around the bush anymore, yes. Magic is real. The strange occurrences that have been happening around you are a result of your innate magical abilities running amok." I swallowed, then nodded, "Not that I don't believe you, but extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof. Would you mind performing some magic for us?" She gave an approving smile.

"Well put, Miss Parish, and yes—I can provide an example of what you will be learning in the upcoming years should you accept your place in our school." She pulled out her wand and used it to lightly tap a teacup sitting on Ms Parish's desk. It transformed into a small, white mouse. It tried to make a break for it, but started floating with another flick of McGonagall's wand. She waved the wand, and the floating mouse slowly approached. Ms Parish backed away hastily. I, on the other hand, reached out.

McGonagall gently lowered the mouse and settled it onto my palm. It was definitely a mouse. McGonagall must have been casting some other magic as well since it was now very docile. I could feel its body heat. It stood up on its hind legs, shifted its weight, and let out a few small squeaks. As I watched, it did a courtly bow, then promptly turned back into a teacup. I nearly spilled the remaining tea from the surprise, but steadied the cup at the last moment.

The tea had a pungent aroma I'd often smelled near—and associated with—Ms Parish. The cup was from Ms Parish's favorite porcelain set. Reserved for important guests. It was real. I had already believed as such, but proof was proof. A quick glance confirmed Ms Parish was too overwhelmed to respond. I twitched, realizing the opportunity. I could still make my own impressions and guide the topics away from troubles I, or original Lyra, had caused.

I didn't need to dig very deep to fake a shaky exhale, "Alright, I believe you." I said, setting the teacup down, and letting the silence stand for a moment to 'collect my thoughts'.

"And you can teach me? At Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts is the greatest school of magic in the world. For the diligent student, magic will become an intrinsic part of their life. A way to support themselves and those around them through the hardest times and bring wonder and joy in the best.

"We have over a thousand years of history with the most notable names in magic originating with us. Our teachers are the finest that can be found.

"Students at our school learn to harness the abilities inherent to themselves that would otherwise run rampant and cause misery." She raised a meaningful eyebrow at that last bit. Did that mean she took everything Ms Parish had told her about my reputation as just magical accidents? Were they just accidents? I hadn't brought up the topic while at the House—wanting to distance people's opinions and memories of old Lyra from me and my actions—but what exactly had she done to cause everyone so much worry?

"How do I learn magic, Professor?"

"Through study and practice. Your teachers at Hogwarts can guide you when you encounter difficulties in your lessons, and provide additional resources as needed to help you grow."

"The letter mentioned books and equipment?"

"The two of you have a decision to make regarding that. I have availability for the rest of the day and can take Miss Lyra to the wizard shopping district in London to pick up her materials; or I can arrange for a muggle pass on a date of your choosing, allowing the two of you to make the trip together." I looked over to Ms Parish, meeting her eyes and taking in her uncertainty. She wasn't the most verbose person at the best of times, but she hadn't said a word since McGonagall's spell.

These revelations were hitting her hard.

"You can't take us both?" she forced out.

"Unfortunately, no. Your home isn't set up with the Flu Network, I abhor The Knight Bus, and my apparition can only reliably take a single passenger with a few bags."

"…Right."

"Magical travel is considerably faster than Muggle travel, though not without drawbacks."

"Of course," Ms Parish muttered again. Well, if she wasn't going to press for either option, I might as well take advantage.

"I'm willing to go with you today Professor. However, I'm not sure what funds I have available. We were going to rely on scholarships and loans for my education before now. Does Hogwarts provide similar accommodations?"

"I take it you are accepting your spot in the school then," she stated with a knowing smirk.

"And a good question. Hogwarts tuition is covered by the Ministry of Magic, and there is a limited fund available to students with financial difficulties."

"Free tuition?" cut in Ms Parish. Suddenly sounding way more alert.

"How does this affect travel costs, or room and board?"

"Both are fully covered. Including meals, consumable learning materials, laundry, and medical treatment should it become necessary. Hogwarts is exclusively a boarding school. Though students will have the option to return during the Christmas and Easter holidays.

"Travel to and from the school is handled via train. The Hogwarts Express, which leaves from Kings Cross station on the first of September." Ms Parish looked slightly more shaken now than when the teacup became a mouse. I could hardly blame her—magic was one thing, but how is anyone supposed to believe in free quality education? There was a reason I'd been applying to Public Schools.

"How– how much do the supplies cost?"

"There are ways to cut costs through purchasing second-hand, but it's not recommended with some of the more expensive required equipment. If Miss Lyra would like to change and prepare herself for our trip we can further discuss finances and required aid." I took the cue to leave for what it was.

"Thank you, Professor. I'll be waiting outside the main doors." I closed the door behind me and forcibly released some of the tension in my posture. Being shut out wasn't ideal, but things didn't look to be headed towards disaster either. Ms Parish was still reeling. I doubted she would normally have nothing to say about one of her charges suddenly visiting London with a stranger.

However, now that she missed the primary opportunity to deny the request, she'd find it more difficult to speak up as more preparations were made.