Amanda decided she'd show me around Greenhouse Four now that I knew the truth. This, she told me, was her passion in life. Her husband Apollonius (or Paul as he was called by his friends) had not been a particularly good wizard, but was a skilled herbologist. Since Amanda was a Half-Blood, she maintained ties with the Muggle world and sold exotic plants for mundane money. Some of the plants in Greenhouse Four were mundane, but had magical uses, while others were infused with supernatural energy. Screechsnap and Abyssinian shrivelfig were her best sellers, and I was specifically told that the salinity of the solution in which 'gillyweed' grew had to be maintained or otherwise it would die. It was rather difficult to absorb, and I was certain that I would fail herbology if I were learning it.

“So does Mr. Snape teach herbology at Hogwarts?�

 

Amanda shook her head. “Not herbology, potions. He comes by for potions ingredients that they aren't allowed to grow in the on-campus greenhouses.�

 

In the back of the Greenhouse, she showed me the big flower with a person growing inside, the little nymph with the French accent. The species was called ginger blossom, but the nymph herself was known as Giselle.

“I apologize for startling you, leetle girl,� Giselle said, lowering her head. “I thought you were Amanda. That 'orrible meester Snape is so overbearing, and he insulted Amanda's deetanny. I thought she had returned to veent her frustration.�

 

I shrugged uncomfortably, still unnerved by the tiny creature in front of me. “Um, no problem, I guess,� I said.

Amanda put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You did the right thing by running inside here,� she said. “There are wards set up around the greenhouses that will keep magical creatures away.�

We turned and walked back towards the exit, and I took the opportunity to pet the feel-good cactus one last time before we left.

 

“Why does it still look burned down on the outside?� I asked a we stepped out into the humid July morning. “What happened here?�

Amanda frowned. “Twleve years ago, when Paul was killed, I was devastated. But I didn't want to give up on his—on our dream. Some Wizarding friends of ours helped me put the place back together, and someone suggested that we set up an illusion to make it look as though it were still burnt out to keep curious Muggles from going inside.�

 

I noticed she never said what exactly had caused the fire, and I began to suspect the worst.

 

0000

 

“You're underaged,� she said. “So I can't allow you to use any magic in my home. We could probably get away with it, but I don't want to even risk trouble. Especially since you've not decided yet. You haven't decided, have you?�

I shook my head. “Honestly, I wouldn’t do use that wand even if you offered,� I said, eyeing the wand that sat on the living room table. “I'm still terrified, Amanda. Every instinct I've been programmed with—�

 

Amanda chuckled. “Listen to yourself. 'Programmed', sweetie? You're talking as if you're a computer.�

 

“You're expecting me to think for myself? I thought that was something adults do.�

Amanda cocked her head sideways as if considering her reply. “Actually,� she said, “Most adults don't. But I want you to, because that's so important to succeeding—both in life and in magic, if you choose to learn it. Now…�

She pulled a small brown box from beside her on the settee and placed in the table, and opened it. It was a chess board, I realized, with thirty two crystal pieces of black and white sitting in their proper starting positions. Rupert had taught me the basics of chess during the week I was forbidden from playing his video games, so I wasn't panicking. But I was rather curious as to what this had to do with wizarding or critical thinking.

“We're going to play wizard's chess,� she said.

I arched an eyebrow. “What's the difference from normal chess?�

Amanda looked down at the chess board. “King's pawn to d4,� she said.

I stared with my mouth agape as the crystal chess piece moved itself, stopping on the specified position.

“I can't play this!� I said. “I can't use magic. You just said that I couldn’t.�

 

Amanda motioned for me to sit down on the opposite side of the chess board. “You're not, Michelle. The pieces are enchanted. They respond to your voice commands, but you won't be using any magic yourself.�

 

“You’re rationalizing!� I said, hoping I was using the word correctly. “How is this any different than using a Ouija board?�

 

“Well for one thing,� Amanda said with a scowl, “Ouija boards don’t actually work. Some legitimately enchanted versions are sold in joke shops that give insulting or crude answers, but you’re not going to get any legitimate divination from them.�

 

“What about evil spirits?� I asked.

 

“Do you see any evil spirits?�

Now it was my turn to scowl. “Amanda, they’re spirits, how could I see them?�

“Michelle, you have magic in you. That means you can see and hear ghosts and spirits that Muggles can’t, even without any training. If something evil were trying to deceive you, you’d be able to see it.�

 

I raised an eyebrow. “Really?� I slumped lower and stared at the chess board, as all sorts of thoughts ran through my mind. If I could see evil spirits—and I hadn’t ever seen any to my knowledge, not when Amanda did magic and not now in front of the chess board—then perhaps they weren’t as numerous and active as the preacher at my church had suggested in his sermons.
I looked at the board, studying the crystal pieces until my eyes settled on a white knight, his sword raised one hand and a cross-bearing shield in the other.

“Knight to c6,� I said softly.

 

0000

 

I had been trying to wrap my brain around Hogwarts: A History, but that book was thick and wordy, didn't make much sense, and—I feared—full of witchcraft propaganda to deceive innocent kids like me into participating in evil. She'd also given me a copy of Quidditch Throughout the Ages. That book fascinated me—flying around on brooms, cheering crowds. It was like a bizarre video game fantasy. I looked through the list of racing brooms in the back, and frowned when I didn't see the Roc 360 on the list.

But then it occurred to me to flip forward; the front of the book had the copyright date several years earlier. Maybe my broom was a newer model! I darted down the stairs and slipped my shoes on, then grabbed the Roc 360 and ran outside to where Aunt Amanda was running a gardening hose down to the greenhouses.

“Amanda, can my broom fly?� I stared at her with big imploring eyes, ignoring the pangs of guilt I felt for how badly I wanted to use a magical item. I forced my reservations down because flying would be spectacular.

 

“Sure can, sweetie,� she said, grunting, giving the hose a good tug and finally getting it far enough to hook up to the existing water line. She screwed the two ends together and then flicked her magic wand at the outdoor spigot, causing the water to turn on.

 

“How... how does it work?� I asked. “I don't have to use magic, do I? The Quidditch book said the broom itself is what's enchanted.�

 

Amanda nodded. “I don't suppose teaching you a little about broom flying will do any harm. You're already a year behind most Hogwarts students.�

“I've not decided to go, you know,� I said, perhaps too angrily.

 

“I didn't say you had,� said Amanda, frowning. She then smiled slightly, forcing herself to be more cheerful than she felt for my sake. “Now, first, drop the broom on the ground parallel to the way you're facing.�

I did so, the broom falling into the grass in the most unspectacular manner.

 

“Now hold out your hand and say the word up.�

 

Nervously I stepped around the broom and extended my right hand. “Uh... up!� I said forcefully. Nothing happened.

“Up!� I said again, with less hesitation. “Up! Up.�

Nothing happened a second time.

 

“You're anxious, Michelle,� Amanda said. She flicked her wand again and the spigot turned off. “Don't think so hard about it. Calm your mind and focus on what you're doing. The charms only work if you want them too, and you're afraid of what it means if they do.�

“I have a right to be,� I said. I didn't know where that egalitarian observation came from, but I liked the way it sounded at the time. With the upbringing I'd had, the very idea of magic was verboten. Super Mario Brothers was about as much fantasy as my parents would allow.

 

“You can exercise your rights, or you can learn to fly a broom,� Amanda said, grinning. “Your choice, dear.�

 

I swallowed hard and tried to purge the anxiety from my gut. I felt my heartbeat slow slightly, and I took a deep breath. I looked down at the broom and envisioned it responding, and exhaled.

“Up.� I said. The broom moved in an circular arc at 1000 Miles Per Hour—unfortunately the Earth was also moving along this arc, so the Roc 360 did not come any nearer to my hand. I stared, amazed that I had failed again. Amazed and kind of annoyed.

 

Darn it! I thought. “UP!�

 

Suddenly the broom leapt off the ground and smacked into my palm, causing it to sting. My hand closed reflexively, but I was too shocked to do anything but stare.

 

“Good job,� Amanda said. “Sit down.�

 

I straddled the broom and started to sit down, when suddenly a strange—pocket of air, force, seemed to form below me. I was hovering several inches above the broom handle, but supported as though I was sitting on the most comfortable bicycle seat ever. I goggled and glanced at Amanda.

She read the question in my face and grinned. “It's a cushioning charm. You'd get saddle sore if you sat on the broom handle itself. Now, kick off the ground. Keep one hand on the broomstick.�

 

I kicked, and began hovering a few feet into the air, getting very scared very suddenly. My flight path was wobbly and I kept fearing that I would fall off. I leaned forward and low, clutching the broomstick tightly with both hands. My flight path steadied, and I felt my heart began to slow. Amanda walked around—I was just about three meters off the ground by this point—and pulled down her sunglasses. “Okay, good. You press left or right on the stick to steer. Put forward pressure on the handle to speed up and reverse pressure to break. Tilt the stick up and down to raise and dive.�

 

I tried to get these directions down in my head, fumbled around for half an hour, and finally got to where I could maintain a steady flight-path as long as I had both hands on the broom. It was exhilarating—to be able to fly about at will, first really slow and gradually faster. The wind rushing through my hair, the smell of the country air afflicting my nostrils with their copious allergens. I only came down when the adrenaline rush turned into an adrenaline crash.

 

I loved it. But I didn't think I'd ever be able to play Quidditch, because every time I took one hand off, my flight path went crazy again and I got afraid I'd fall off.

 

But then, what was I saying? I slumped against a wall in Amanda's house, hugging a knee against my chest. I couldn't play Quidditch because I couldn't go off to a school for witches and participate in their dark rituals and worship the devil and do all sorts of heinous abominations before God. I felt my eyes start to water, and that made me angry. Why was this such a conflict for me? This decision should have been a no-brainer. Hogwarts was magic. Magic was evil. I stay away from evil.

And then the questions flooded in. Was it really evil? Did I really want to stay away from it, even if it was? What did that mean about me?

Was I... a witch?

“Not yet, I'm not,� I muttered to myself, getting up. I stomped into the kitchen and poured myself some pumpkin juice. Flying was thirsty work.

0000

That night we sat by the fireplace in Amanda's front room; Amanda read from a book (Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, which despite its title was actually a Muggle book); I sat sketching the outline of a valiant knight, my paper illuminated by an electric lamp that sat on the table beside me. I kept having to be very careful any time I moved my elbow because the arm chair was so small that my limbs practically spilled out of it and smacked into the lamp.

 

Just as I was sketching the design on the knight's shield, I knocked the lamp off the table and its base shattered against the hard wood floor. I winced and reached for the cord, unplugging it before the still-lit bulb began burning through the lamp shade.

“Sorry,� I muttered, looking up at Amanda warily.

 

She pulled out her wand and aimed it at the broken lamp. “Reparo!� she chanted. Instantly the lamp's various pieces floated back together. I blinked at it for a few seconds, then grabbed it and sat it back down on the table, shivering.

 

“Amanda,� I said quietly, looking up at her. She put her book aside, marking her page with her wand. “Can I ask you something?�

“What, dear?�

“Are there... bad wizards? Wizards that are considered evil even by people in the magical world?�

 

Amanda's lips twisted down into a frown, and she nodded solemnly. “Oh yes,� she said. “There have been good and bad wizards and witches as long as there have been wizards and witches. Just as there have always been good people and bad people.�

 

“But bad people with magic,� I said. “That means... that means that people could get killed.�

My aunt nodded again. “That's one reason magic is so heavily regulated. And why we train even Muggle-born students at Hogwarts. Because there are bad wizards out there, and you have to know how to use magic properly—and how to protect yourself.�

We sat in silence for a few minutes before I opened my mouth again. “Your husband. My uncle Paul—he was killed by a bad wizard, wasn't he?�

Amanda nodded gravely.

“I thought so,� I said softly. “I'm so sorry, Amanda.�

“Thank you,� she said, with an unusually soft smile. Then she looked down. “The man who killed Apollonius—his name was Amycus Carrow, but he was just a soldier from a group of bad wizards. They called themselves the Death Eaters.�

And suddenly I realized that all this was so much bigger than whether or not flicking a wand and saying magic words was immoral.

0000

The next morning Copi and I had an argument about whether or not Rupert was cute. I stomped off, angry that I couldn't even convince a copy of myself to accept my position, and left my room. Amanda intercepted me at the top of the stairs and led me over towards her room. In front of the door, we stopped and she pulled down the panel to the attic, a small wooden ladder the colour of ocean water dropping from the hole.

“What's this all about?�

“I want to show you something,� Amanda said. “A couple days ago I wrote to Dumbledore that you still hadn't decided.�

“Why does he get to know these things?� I was proud of how impetuous I had made my voice.

“Because he's worried about you. He wrote me back with some advice. I want to show you something.�

 

We climbed up the latter into a dusty attic full of trinkets. Some of the trinkets moved about, and there were boxes and boxes of moving-photographs—pictures that looked like short video clips. I stared at them, at first thinking it was a small video screen before realizing that they were magic photos. Amanda walked over to a corner where a green tarp with considerably less dust on it than the rest of the objects in the attic covered something tall and thin.

“Before I show you this,� Amanda said. “A word of caution. This used to be kept in an unused class room at Hogwarts until a student there found it. He had become... addicted to looking into it, because it shows you the thing your heart desires the most. Dumbledore had it moved out here because nobody in their right mind would look for a magical artifact in Beverly.�

I gave a nervous laugh. What the devil was she talking about?

 

Then Amanda pulled the tarp off and before me stood a mirror, embossed in gold. Some letters that didn't make words lined the outside of the glass, but my eyes quickly flicked from them into the image in the mirror. Because it wasn't the me I saw when I looked into any normal mirror. It was me, my hair halfway down my back, draped in long black robes with the Hogwarts crest on my lapel. A wand in my hand, and a small golden cross hanging from my neck.

I took a step back, alarmed, and then turned. I shouted something I don't even remember now and jumped through the hole, grabbing onto the floor of the attic to slow my fall, and then letting go and falling the other six feet to the floor. My feet hurt, but I staggered forward any way, then slid into the corner between my room and the bathroom.

Breathing heavily, I leaned my head back, closed my eyes and started to calm myself. There was a loud crack and Amanda appeared in front of me, and knelt down.

“Michelle! Michelle, sweetie, are you okay?!� She felt my forehead and I realized I'd started sweating. “What did you see, honey?�

“I... saw... me...� I gasped out slowly. “I... want to go to Hogwarts.�

Amanda stared at me for a moment. I think it took her a bit to comprehend what I was too terrified to say.

“Honey, Michelle. Please, calm down.� She ran her fingers through my hair. “Wanting something is not a sin. You've done nothing wrong. I should have given you more warning. I'm the one who screwed up.�

“You...?� I asked, suddenly feeling cold despite being drenched, despite my racing heart. “You didn't do anything wrong. I just.. I just don't want... to want to. But I do.�

“You realize,� she said, “That if you go there and decide that it's not for you, you can leave, right? This isn't an irrevocable commitment. You always have a choice.�

I stared up at her, and through all her strangeness, and worry, I saw something in Amanda's eyes, like a violet glow that originated in her heart. It was compassion, and I could feel it was real. I'd seen the same thing in my mom's eyes when I was sick, in Deacon Wellington's eyes when I'd went forward to confess Jesus. In my father's eyes—along with regret—any time he had to discipline me.

And I sobbed, once, twice, and then stopped.

“I'm going to Hogwarts,� I said. “I've made my choice.�