The middle of August was fast approaching and I found myself growing anxious about the decision. I'd like to say I wasn't tempted to change my mind, but the truth is, I was. I was constantly second guessing myself. And though it got easier as the days passed, I never quite felt comfortable about my choice. (This is a different thing than lacking confidence in it, you see. I was confident that any other decision would have made me absolutely miserable. It's something like deciding between a risky spinal surgery or dealing with back pain the rest of your life.)

 

On the morning of the thirteenth, I was sitting in my room talking with Copi when Amanda knocked at the door and looked in. I looked at her over my shoulder.

“Am I interrupting anything?�

“Not at all!� Copi said. My head snapped around and shot Copi a nasty look.

“Good, good,� Amanda said. When she stepped all the way in the room, I saw she was wearing the same maroon witch's robes that she had been wearing the day I was assaulted by the boggart-dog. “We're going on a shopping trip. I've got your updated list of items for school.�

 

“Shopping?� I paled. “As in wizard-shopping?�

 

“Yup. Dress yourself and meet me in the front room. I'm gonna teach you how to Floo.�

“Verbing,� Copi said, “Weirds language.�

 

0000

 

In front of the flickering fireplace, Amanda stood waiting for me with a massive pointy hat on her head, the same maroon shade as her robes. I got to the bottom of the stairs before I saw that she had a shoulder bag as well as a small green sack. She motioned for me to come over, and I did so; as soon as I felt the heat of the fireplace, the weirdness of the fact that it was lit in the dead of summer hit me.

“Why did you start a fire?�

“We're traveling via Floo. Here now,� she said, handing me the green sack. “Take a handful of the powder and throw it into the fireplace. Say 'Diagon Alley' and step inside.�

 

“Diagonally?� I mimicked.

 

The corner of Amanda's mouth cocked into a smile. “Diagon. Alley,� she said slowly. “Say it carefully or you'll end up in the wrong place.�

“Are you telling me that I can use a fireplace to teleport?�

“You say that like it's strange,� Amanda said, adjusting the strap on her shoulder bag. “Just toss it in there and say it. The fire will flare up and you have to step into it as it does.�

I gave her a withering glare and took a handful of the Floo...stuff. And tossed it into the fireplace. “Diagon Alley!� I shouted. The fire exploded outward from the fireplace and I stepped...

Backwards. “Eeep!� I backed into the coffee table and it tripped me up, though I managed to twist in mid air so that I didn't land on it. Instead I just slammed into the floor.

 

Amanda helped me up. I noticed she had a piece of parchment clutched in one hand.

“Are you okay?�

I blinked. “...I think so. I didn't expect a ruddy explosion.�

 

“Don't worry,� she said. “It won't burn you.�

I gulped, and took another step forward. I repeated the process, this time closing my eyes as the fire consumed me. Suddenly I was hurdling through a space between spaces, tumbling end over end until another fireplace appeared in front of me and spat me out. I rolled to a stop in the middle of a small High Street where dozens of witches and wizards bustled about in varying degrees of non-muggle dress. I shot to my feet and began looking around—directly across from me was a large building labeled GRINGOTTS BANK and a few storefronts down I saw what looked like a pet shop, with a huge boa constrictor in an aquarium out in front.

I heard a burning flare behind me and turned to see Amanda emerging from a green flame in one of several large fireplaces built into the side of an old brick shop.

 

“That was... intense,� I muttered, and found myself clinging to Amanda's side despite the protests of my dignity and pride.

 

“This is Diagon Alley,� Amanda said, her hand resting on my shoulder. She pushed forward slightly as if to nudge me to let go, and I did so. Though, I stayed close to her. “It's the biggest commercial hub for witches and wizards in the city.�

 

“It's incredible,� I said, walking over to a street vendor selling what appeared to be fireworks.

“Those are five knuts a box,� the vendor drawled. “Best price in all London.�

“Knuts?� I asked, still trying to process the fact that we were suddenly in London.

 

“Don't know what knuts are, oh?� the witch laughed. “Heh, Muggle-borns.�

 

I frowned, and Amanda put her hand on my shoulder and led me away.

“Listen, sweetie, we need to focus on your school list.� Amanda unfolded the parchment she'd been clutching earlier. “Okay, you need a few sets of robes. We'll grab those at the hand-me-down shop because I refuse to pay Madame Malkin's prices.�

“What is a knut?� I said as she led me down the street to a small shop where a bored-looking young wizard was ringing up some pointy hats for another family, this one seemingly comprised of a witch and a bewildered Muggle father.

 

“It's a type of coin,� she said. “Bronze. Twenty-nine of them make a Sickle. Seventeen Sickles make a Galleon. And if you're converting to Muggle money, a Galleon is about 5 pounds.�

 

“That's a bloody bizarre exchange rate,� I murmured, and then covered my mouth when I realized what I'd said. “Sorry.�

“Watch your language,� Amanda said absently. “Alright, I think the girls fitting room is empty. Pick a few that you think fit you.�

 

0000

 

We emerged from the shop half an hour later with three robes, none of which matched, a winter cloak that was silver and green (this fact perturbed Aunt Amanda for some reason) and a tall pointy hat that sat on my head. Total damage: thirty sickles.

“We're going to have to get better at bargain hunting or I'm gonna need to make a trip to the bank,� Amanda said with a sigh. She'd somehow managed to stuff all my clothes into her shoulder bag, though I kept the hat and pulled it down on my head.

 

Next we went to the book store, Flourish and Blott's, where we further loaded down the bag to impossible levels. “It's enchanted,� she explained, as we stuffed a copy of something called Voyages With Vampires into it and nearly kicked over a cardboard cut-out of someone named Gilderoy Lockhart, who would apparently be at the store signing books this weekend. Total damage: seven galleons, and that was with all but one of them second-hand. I mentally did some math and winced. I owed Amanda a big dinner. Luckily I hadn't spent much of the Muggle money my parents had sent with me.

 

A few more stops and we grabbed a telescope and a cauldron. I tried to surprise Amanda by buying us both a large ice cream while she was haggling over some seeds, but when I tried to pay with a five-pound note the elderly lady at the ice cream shop looked at me with a perplexed frown and started using an abacus to convert it to Wizarding money. As she handed me my change, Amanda stepped up behind me.

“Evening, Athena,� Amanda said. “She's with me. My niece, Michelle.�

“Oh, good afternoon, Amanda,� the woman said. “Florean's not here. He's off at some ice-cream convention in Switzerland. So you got yourself a niece? She goin' to Hogwarts?�

 

Amanda's voiced was forcibly polite. “Of course. Wouldn't be in Diagon otherwise.�

 

“Ah, yes yes. Well, have a nice day.�

 

When we left in a hurry, I handed Amanda the ice cream I'd bought for her and regarded her curiously. “What was that about?�

 

“Athena Fortescue,� Amanda said. “Far from the kind soul her son turned out to be. Old fashioned. She doesn't think Muggles should be allowed in Diagon Alley.�

 

“Well—!� I began, offended. “I'm not a Muggle.� My heart started racing as my apprehensions about my magical abilities came to the surface. No, I wasn't a Muggle, but I was dreading the likelihood that I'd be cursed to live as one because of my parents—my faith. And simultaneously, hoping for unequivocal evidence that the Wizarding World was evil—because that at least would take the choice out of my hands and let me sleep easy at night.

 

“No, you're not a Muggle,� Amanda responded. “But you're a Muggleborn, and when you paid with Muggle money you caused her to assume that you'd brought your Muggle parents in with you. And, sweetie, you've done nothing wrong. She's the one who has the problem. Part of the trouble with living to 130 years old—eventually even magic can't help you keep up with the times.�

“One-hundred and thirty?� I parroted, amazed. I began to wonder what dark rituals she used to extend her life so long, and began regarding my ice cream as though it had been bought with blood money.

It still tasted delicious.

 

0000

 

The last stop on our list was a small place called Ollivander's. The sign above the door had a simple painting of a wand resting on a cushion, and I realized that this was it—I was about to get the primary instrument of magic. I had no idea what to expect. I wondered if I should turn back now for the safety of my soul. I might have, except Amanda nudged me forward and I was too much of a coward to run away in fear. I stepped into the dimly lit shop, noticing the walls were lined with shelves of small boxes that I assumed contained the various wands. There was a tall, thin main with frazzled white hair and a pleasant smile behind the counter.

“Ah, Mrs. Vanir!� he said. “I trust you're not here due to any dissatisfaction with your product?�

 

“Absolutely not,� Amanda said with a smile. “Thirty-one years and counting without missing a spell. I'm here because my niece here needs her first wand, and—�

 

Just then, the door swung open behind us, ringing the bell above the threshold. In strolled a young girl, perhaps a bit younger than me, in an elaborate violet dress. She moved with a strange grace that was somehow both fluid and stiff, her back's stiff posture at odds with the drifting gait she used to carry herself. She was followed by a man and a woman in elegant white robes, both of whom held their noses aloft.

The girl blew past Amanda and practically ran me over as she approached Mr. Ollivander. I stepped aside and arched an eyebrow. She was shorter than me, with reddish-brown hair tied up behind her head and big, intense eyes.

 

“Mr. Ollivander!� the girl said in a voice that was cheerful... and strangely commanding. “I'm here to be fitted for my wand.�

 

Ollivander was taken aback. For my part, I simply stared, fascinated by the young girl's poise, trying not to be too annoyed that she'd barged right past me.

 

“Ah,� he said, tossing me an apologetic glance, and then reaching for a nearby box. “Yes, Ms. Aulin. Let's start you with this one,� he said. He grabbed a small box from his shelf and handed it to the girl.

“I prefer Sypha,� the girl said pleasantly, again with that strange hint of command in her voice. She took the wand and waved it around, but nothing happened.

“No, no, I don't think this is right,� she said.

 

“Yes, we'll try something else. Funny how the rest of your family has used oak wands, though. Hm, perhaps this one.� Ollivander pulled another wand off the shelf. “This one is a fine little number. Ten inch vinewood with a unicorn's hair core.�

 

Sypha Aulin swished it in the air, again producing no visible results.

 

“Ah...� Ollivander shot me and Amanda another apologetic look and grabbed a third box. “This one, perhaps? It's also vinewood, with a Pegasus feather core.�

Sypha Aulin took it and waved it through the air, and suddenly sparks began flickering forth from its tip and filling the air with little particles of light. I stared at them because they were pretty and scolded myself for wanting to make my own.

 

“Very well!� Ollivander said. He named a price of several dozen galleons and I politely turned away and stared at the opposite wall as the girl's parents made the transaction. I wasn't typically envious of the wealthy—my family wasn't exactly poor itself. But something about being an outsider in a world where money was made up of all sorts of literal gold, silver, and knuts made me wish I could wash my hands of the whole wizarding economy. Feeling... out of place was unusual for me. Or at least, it had been before Albus Dumbledore showed up on my doorstep.

 

The Aulin family left. It was my turn.

“I'm dreadfully sorry,� Ollivander said, looking me up and down and then grabbing a box off the shelf. “You know how some of the... old families can get.�

 

I was beginning to see a pattern here and I didn't particularly like it.

 

Ollivander handed me the wand. “I think this one should suit you just fine.�

I picked it up and immediately felt a strange buzzing in my head—one I'd felt before, occasionally, when I was intensely emotional. When strange things began to happen around me. The wand looked as though it was about 25 centimeters long and was constructed of a tough polished wood.

“Ten inch oak,� Ollivander confirmed. “Relatively rare core there—shamrock. Not one I made myself: bought it at a trade show. Usually only made in Ireland, but I wanted to see who it would bring through the door. Wands choose their owners, you know.�

My heart pounded in my chest so hard I wondered if someone was playing thumping music next door. I slowly extended my hand, forcing past the twisting knot in my gut, and I waved the wand through the air; a green stream of light danced from the end like the trail of smoke from a cigarette and I felt the buzzing in my head intensify.

Magic.

 

0000

As August came to a close, I was growing both more resolved and more apprehensive. I did not question or second guess my decision to go to Hogwarts. More than anything, I had to learn, to know whether or not this power inside me was evil or if it was something I could embrace. I couln't back out now, especially after buying a wand and letting my aunt spend all that money on me. Apprehension came in the downtime, when I wasn't reminding myself of the reasons I had to go—the fear of the unknown, a feeling that going to any new school would produce magnified a thousand fold because of the unequivocal condemnation of witchcraft in the pages of the Bible. The Bible itself became an artifact of familiarity to me, as Amanda had bought me a beautiful study Bible with my name embroidered on the front cover in silver thread: Michelle Faith Coplin.

 

I sat cradling my sketch pad against my knees in the front seat of Amanda's car as we pulled up and parked parallel in front of my house. It was time to tell my parents about my decision, and my knees felt week.

“Amanda,� I said reaching for the handle of her car door. “I have a question.�

“Yes dear?�

“Does my mum know? That you're... that you went to Hogwarts?�

 

Amanda frowned deeply and exhaled through her nose, saying nothing for a moment. She took another deep breath, and then looked at me.

 

“I was sixteen years old when I met your mother. She was ten. It was about a year after my mother had passed, and my father was moving on with his life. He began dating your grandma Lorraine while I was away at school. And quite frankly, I was... well, a brat at the time. I didn't like the fact that my father was dating a Muggle woman.�

“But Grandpa is a Muggle,� I said.

“Yes. At the time, I took it as an insult, though. I thought he'd been ashamed of my mum and her magic. And by extension, of me and mine.� Amanda took another breath. “And because of that, I took my frustration out on your mother. One day she'd said or done something that particularly upset me, and I threatened her. I told her I was a witch, and that I'd gone to witch's school. I said I'd put a hex on her if she didn't behave.�

 

I stared at her wide-eyed. Amanda? Losing her temper? Whoa.

 

“Like I said. Brat.� Amanda smiled. “But that was a long time ago. I never mentioned it again, and she never brought it up. As far as I know, she's assumed I was kidding all these years—�

 

“But she remembers,� I said. “I can see it in the way she looks at you. And I bet getting that letter last year only brought it all back up in her head.�

 

I opened the car door and got out, tossing my sketch pad on the seat (Copi let out an oof when it landed) and turned to the door. I left my belongings in Amanda's car and slowly walked up and knocked at the door. A few seconds later, my mum opened it up and welcomed me in, embracing me in a hug that might have popped my spine if I'd not spent all summer working out.

“Look how much you've grown!� my dad said as Mum led me into the dining room. The table was already set and I could smell dinner in the kitchen. “You've got a bit of a tan, too. I knew getting out of the city would do the girl some good, Olivia. How was it?�

Mum arched an eyebrow. “Michelle, where are your bags?�

 

“I, er, left them in the car,� I said nervously. “I've got something to tell you.�

“Tell us?� Mum glanced at Dad. “Oh dear, Michelle. You've not started getting those... monthly visits have you?�

 

“No!� I shouted, embarrassed that she mentioned that right in front of dad. Then I slumped my shoulders. “Well, yes, but that's not what I need to tell you. That's nothing compared to what I need to tell you.�

 

Now both my parents looked worried, glancing at each other confused.

 

“I've decided,� I said, my heart starting to race yet again. “I've decided that I'm going to Hogwarts.�

 

My mum's face turned into a mask of incredulity and perplexity; my dad just stared at me with a dull look of shock. Worse, Mum's mouth quickly curled up in disgust.

“Michelle Coplin,� she said sternly. “Don't you dare even joke about such a ridiculous—�

“I'm not joking!� I said, stomping my foot for emphasis. “I'm serious. I've talked it over with Amanda and I want to go. I have to go. I can't stand knowing there's an entire world out there that I could learn about and not being a part of it. And if it turns out that it's evil, I'll leave it for good!�

 

The change was explosive; Dad continued to stare at me shocked, muttering and shaking his head. But Mum... Mum was on the war path. She shouted my name again and grabbed me by the arm before I could react.

“What do you think you're talking about, Michelle?� she barked, her eyes forming tears. I didn't know if they were sad tears or if they were made of pure anger. “The works of righteousness have no fellowship with the works of darkness. If you mention another word about this—who put this idea in your head? Amanda? Was it your aunt?�

“I chose to go on my own!� I spat, trying to jerk away. “Amanda didn't make me do anything. Mum, I'm not going to worship the devil. I just want to know—�

 

“It's out of the question,� my father said, showing an uncharacteristic bit of firmness. He stood by Mum and tried to pull her shoulder back. “Michelle, don't you understand, we're trying to protect you. Even if it weren't a school full of devil-worshipers, they might be into trafficking children or God knows what else.�

 

“To think,� Mum said. “My daughter caught up in this.� Her tears were now definitely sad. She let go of me, finally, and I rubbed my aching arm while she walked over to the sink and grabbed a kitchen towel, crying into it.

 

My dad knelt in front of me so that his head was level with mine.

“Michelle, dear, we love you, but you're being absolutely mad. You could get hurt, or killed!�

 

I tried to choke back a sob. I wanted to do what my dad said, but then I'd never get to the bottom of it all. I'd never learn to be a witch or know if magic really was evil.

 

“It never hurt me,� came the voice of Amanda. I turned behind me to see her standing in the door way. “Don, Olivia, please. Your daughter has a gift, an incredible gift. Let her learn to use it.�

 

“You!� my mother snarled—yes, snarled. I'd never heard her use that tone of voice before, and it terrified me. “You did this to my little girl! I hope you burn in hell!�

 

The next thing I knew Mum let out a horrible shriek and ran towards us, flinging a rolling pin towards Amanda with enough speed that I heard the wind. I closed my eyes and recoiled, burying my face in Dad's shoulder to cry, even as he screamed Mum's name. And then...

“Expelliarmus!�

 

There was a bright flash and I looked up to see the rolling pin sail out of Mum's hand and smash into the wall. I looked up, sobbing and panting wordlessly as both Mum and Dad stared at Amanda, who now had her wand extended, glaring at my parents from behind sunglasses.

 

“OLIVIA COPLIN!� Amanda thundered, lowering her wand. “You're better than this, dammit! I have done nothing to harm your daughter. I only want what's best for her. If you can't see past that fanatic imbecil you call a preacher and see what you're doing to your daughter, then you can be damn sure I'm not going to leave her here for a volley of emotional abuse.�

 

Mum fired back, quoting Leviticus word-for-word, condeming the practice of witchcraft, while my dad stood up and stuck a finger in Amanda's face and demanded that she get her devil-magic out of his house. I backed away from both of them, crouching in the corner and covering my ears and trying to drown out there infernal shouting. And I felt the buzzing, the slow evervescent build-up of magic in the back of my head. And the shouts of my parents and my aunt pounded on the well of energy until it was a throbbing, aching pressure in my skull that demanded release.

“ENOUGH!� I shouted and the buzzing stopped—as the explosions started. The ceramic vase of flowers in the hall, the empty glasses on the kitchen table, and the lights in the fixture above our heads, all bursting in a simultaneous shower of sparks and debris that dimmed the room and silenced the argument. My chest felt hollow and I felt drained, as though I'd just come down from an adrenaline high again.

 

“You see that?� Amanda said, pointing to the shattered vase. “The spark is in her. It's not evil. It's not satanic. It simply is. And you can either let her learn to control it, or you can wait till another outburst like that hurts somebody and watch them take your daughter away to a padded cell. She broke vases and lights this time. Next time it might be bones.�

“You...� Mum whispered. “You're really a witch. You've led my daughter astray, Amanda. How could you do that? My little baby...�

 

My father, shivering, looking pale and sick, took a seat at the table, ignoring the chunks of glass on the chair.

“Take her, then,� He said, fighting back a sob. “If you want to be a witch, Michelle, then go. If we're not enough for you, then go have your way with the degenerates. I can't handle this.�

He stopped fighting. He started sobbing.

Mum just stared and glared at Amanda and me. Amanda motioned for me to follower her, and I did so, backing away from Mum, who did not take her eyes off either of us.

“You're no longer welcome in this house,� Mum said softly. “Neither of you.�

I didn't say anything in response, but when we got back to the car, I broke down and cried all the way to the hotel.