AN: Hey guys, thanks for checking out the fic! Just to let you all know, the first few chapters (maximum around 7 probably) will be world building, and relatively slowburn. However, after that, the fic's going to pick up the pace. Anyway, thanks again for checking out the fic, and hope you enjoy!
"Are you sure about him, Headmaster?"
Professor Minerva McGonagall looked at her only superior, Albus Dumbledore, worry written across her face.
"I'm sure, Minerva." The old man's face was reassuring, and full of the casual confidence of a wizard who was hailed as the most powerful wizard alive.
"But if what you're saying is true, the boy will suffer, won't he?"
"Perhaps."
"Then, why risk it? You say You-Know-Who will return one day – if he does, that child is as good as dead!"
"If it comes to that, Severus will protect him. And if he truly is one of them, he will manage. Who knows – maybe he will be the one to change them. Wouldn't that be something, eh, Minerva?"
The Head of Gryffindor was silent. Albus was certainly right – if this boy survived, he certainly could change them. The Wizarding World would be much better off because of it too. But if not…
I hope you succeed, child. For your sake, and ours too …
/
"Blake, get down here!"
The 11-year-old boy raced down the stairs, past his little brother (who for some odd reason was trying to balance on the stair bannisters), to his mother, who had just returned home from work.
She's home early, he thought.
"I – I don't believe this," she muttered, the normally collected woman stuttering for once. In her hand, she held a letter.
"What's wrong, Mum?" Blake inquired, beginning to worry. Mum's not normally like this, he thought, as his mind raced with the possibilities of what was upsetting her. Work? Her friends? Maybe-
"Sit down, Blake," she said shakily, although she was no longer shouting.
"I want you to read this."
She handed him the letter, and Blake began to read. Carol watched as his eyes widened in surprise, and before he finished reading, he looked up, a smile already etched onto his face.
"Ok, Mum, nice try. But don't worry me like that!" he admonished, "I was about to get scared!"
Carol sighed.
"Blake, this isn't a joke. I promise." At her words, Blake sobered up, and his smile faltered – from a young age, he, his brother and his mother had often played jokes and pranks on each other, but throughout that, they had an agreement that whenever they made a promise, it had to be truthful. That rule had ruined many of Blake's pranks before, but now…
"What – what do you mean?"
Carol took a deep breath.
"Today, after work, an old woman approached me at King's Cross station. She gave me that letter. At first, when I read it, I obviously didn't believe her – I thought she was a scammer, or a pickpocket – something like that. But then-"
She took another deep breath, and Blake inched closer, his breath baited.
"She asked me if you'd had… instances of strange things occurring to you."
At this, Blake's eyes widened in shock. How did that woman know?
From a young age, weird, almost unexplainable things had often happened in the Renshaw household. On Blake's 7th birthday, his cake exploded.
"There was probably something in one of the ingredients," his father had said.
And another time, when they were watching TV, a bird identical to the one in the movie that they were watching seemed to spawn out of nowhere, much to Blake and Connor's excitement, and Carol's horror.
"It was probably a really, really, rare coincidence," Carol reassured herself and the kids.
But those weird, unexplainable occurrences kept happening, and Carol had kept on reassuring not only her children, but mainly herself, that nothing was amiss, and that it was all just coincidences.
"I guess we're just a weird family!" she would say.
Coming back to the conversation, Blake finally responded to his mum.
"Okay, but maybe … maybe she just got a lucky guess? Maybe she's a stalker! It doesn't mean a magic school is real, Mum!"
"I don't know who taught you what stalker means, but don't describe people like that, Blake, it's rude!" she scolded him, despite her panic, as Blake rolled his eyes. Such a mum, he thought, inwardly smiling, regardless of the odd situation.
"Anyway, I know, that's what I thought too – until she…" Carol paused again.
"Until she what?"
"She – she did magic."
Blake and Carol stared at each other for at least 5 seconds, before he burst out laughing – but one look from his mother shut him right up, before she continued slowly.
"Blake, I want you to listen to me very carefully. This lady took me to a secluded area, held my arm, and teleported me to right outside our house. How do you think I got home so early?"
Blake opened his mouth to protest, still in denial, but Carol spoke before he could get any words out.
"I promised, Blake."
Blake closed his mouth and was silent for a while. There was no one alive who he trusted more than his mother, especially when she made a promise. She had sacrificed so much - she had been through so much - for them. Blake trusted her implicitly. If she said that that had happened, then he believed her, and if that was true, then magic was real.
"Now – now what…" he whispered, unsure.
"I don't know, Blake," she replied, her eyes shut tight, thinking.
"It would probably be easier for us to keep you going to normal secondary school, right?"
"Yeah…"
"But the lady said you would thrive more there, at – what's it called again?"
"Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts," she repeated. "She said there's opportunity for jobs and careers after that too - sooner and faster than there would be taking the normal route with better results, but it's a boarding school. I don't know what to do… What do you want, Blake? Do you want to go there?"
Blake was silent for a long time. A boarding school? He would miss his family, and he had promised his dad that he would look after them too. But wouldn't being a wizard help with that?
But even as he contemplated the pros and cons, deep down, he knew his answer. After all, if you tell a 10-year-old child that they have magic powers, what else could you expect?
"I want to go!" he said, still sceptical of the whole thing, but beaming.
"What's going on?" Connor, the youngest child, had decided to come down from his staircase gymnastics, now intrigued by the new conversation.
"I guess it's decided, then," Carol muttered. Even if she didn't understand what was going on, she wanted to position her children in the best place they could be for the future, just like any other mother would do. The crazy old lady had promised her that her son would be looked after, after all.
James, I wish I could see your face after hearing wizards exist! I hope you're watching this. You better be praying for us, and for Blake especially.
"You're a wizard, Blake."