Herb didn't waste a moment. He snatched up the telephone receiver and dialed his father's number. As he relayed the news, his voice cracked with emotion. On the other end of the line, the old man fell silent, overwhelmed, before promising to visit his grandson as soon as possible.
Daisy, however, was still fuming. The air in the living room was thick with tension, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. It was only after Albert spent a good ten minutes speaking to her in a low, soothing voice that she refrained from starting another argument with her husband.
For the pragmatic lawyer, this was madness. She couldn't fathom why Herb, usually so intelligent and grounded, had suddenly lost his wits. To her, he was falling for a ludicrous prank and seemed willing to gamble their precious son's bright future on a fairy tale.
To be fair, aside from Daisy, everyone else found the situation fascinating. Magic, after all, was the stuff of legends.
"Do some magic! Please, Albert?" Nia pleaded, tugging at his sleeve with wide, expectant eyes.
"I can't," Albert said, spreading his hands helplessly.
In truth, Albert did know a few spells. He remembered the incantation and wand movement for the simplest charm, the Wand-Lighting Charm (Lumos).
However, without a wand to channel the magical energy, he was effectively powerless. And even if he could perform wandless magic, he wouldn't dare try it now. How would he explain that he knew spells before ever stepping foot in a classroom?
"Nia, stop pestering your brother. There is no such thing as magic in this world. Those are just parlor tricks," Daisy interjected sternly. She was determined to nip these strange ideas in the bud.
"But Albert," Nia ignored her mother completely, picking up the British Shorthair and plonking herself down next to her brother. "The letter said you can bring a pet. Are you going to take Tom with you?"
Tom let out a lazy meow, blinking his amber eyes.
"Until the existence of magic is actually confirmed, I won't even consider that question," Albert replied solemnly.
He glanced at his mother. Daisy looked like a ticking time bomb, the pressure gauge in the red zone, ready to detonate at the slightest provocation. He needed to tread carefully.
Whoosh.
Suddenly, a second owl swooped into the living room through the open window. It fluttered over the coffee table, dropped a roll of parchment, and perched on the back of a chair.
Albert picked up the parchment. The ink was still fresh.
I will visit before 3:20 PM today. — Professor McGonagall
"3:20 PM?" Albert checked the grandfather clock in the corner. "That's one minute from now."
Daisy straightened her blazer, her eyes narrowing. "Good. I'll be waiting to expose these scammers and their little tricks."
At exactly 3:20 PM, the doorbell rang.
Ding-dong.
The Anderson family exchanged nervous glances. Finally, Herb stood up, straightened his tie, and walked to the front door as the head of the household. Nia scampered closely behind him, using her father as a human shield.
Herb opened the door.
Standing on the porch was a stern-looking elderly woman. She wore square glasses, her black hair was drawn back into a tight bun, and she was dressed in emerald-green robes that looked distinctly out of place in a London suburb.
"Professor McGonagall?" Herb looked at the woman with deep suspicion. "Oh... alright. Please, come in. Albert is in the living room. However, you should know that we are skeptics. You'll need to prove the existence of this... magic."
"Can you really do magic?" Nia poked her head out from behind Herb's leg.
"That is precisely why I am here," Professor McGonagall replied briskly. She stepped over the threshold with an air of brisk efficiency. She was clearly accustomed to these skeptical interrogations. "Families from Muggle backgrounds often have similar questions."
"Muggle?" Herb's expression stiffened. He repeated the word as if tasting something sour.
The stranger had just called him a... what?
"Muggles are ordinary people who cannot perform magic," McGonagall explained smoothly as she followed Herb into the living room. Her sharp gaze swept the room and landed immediately on the only boy present.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Anderson."
"Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall." Albert stood up politely, scrutinizing the witch.
She looked slightly different from the movies he remembered from his previous life—perhaps sharper, more severe—but the aura of authority was unmistakable.
"We hope you can prove... the claims made in your letter," Daisy said coldly. She placed a cup of unsweetened black tea in front of the professor, the china clinking loudly against the saucer.
"Of course. Watch closely."
McGonagall didn't touch the tea. Instead, she withdrew a long, polished stick of wood—her wand—from her robes. She tapped the edge of the teacup lightly.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
In the blink of an eye, the porcelain cup vanished. In its place sat a small, grey mouse. It twitched its nose and scurried across the saucer.
Albert's eyes widened. This was the first time he had witnessed true magic in this world. He reached out and gently picked up the mouse. It was warm, its heart beating rapidly against his palm.
"Incredible," he whispered.
"Is that magic?" Daisy's voice cut through the wonder. She wasn't impressed; she was defensive. "I will never let Albert waste his time learning such boring circus tricks. What do you expect him to become? A stage magician?"
Daisy's lawyer instincts kicked into high gear. She crossed her arms, staring McGonagall down.
"With all due respect, Professor, I am concerned about Albert's future. A diploma from a 'magic school' is effectively waste paper in the real world. That is, assuming you even issue accredited diplomas."
"Every qualified Hogwarts graduate can find gainful employment within the Wizarding World. You need not worry about his prospects," McGonagall replied calmly, unfazed by the interrogation.
Daisy realized she couldn't deny the existence of magic—the mouse was proof enough—but she made one last desperate appeal.
"Albert, listen to me. I still think Eton College is the better choice. You earned that spot with your own hard work. If you want to go into finance, into the real world, you cannot go to Hogwarts. Your talents will be wasted there."
Herb looked at his wife and sighed internally. He knew she was terrified of losing control over her son's future.
"Son," Herb said softly. "Make your own choice. We will respect your decision."
"With all due respect, Mrs. Anderson," McGonagall cleared her throat, her tone growing serious. "Hogwarts teaches young witches and wizards how to control their abilities. If magic is suppressed or left untrained, it can burst out of control. It can cause... unpleasant, and dangerous, accidents."
The room went silent. Albert raised an eyebrow. He knew exactly what she was implying—the threat of becoming an Obscurial, or simply causing magical disasters.
"Well, it seems I have no choice then," Albert said with a small shrug, though he had already made up his mind long before the mouse appeared. "I'll go."
"But, Albert..." Daisy started, her voice faltering.
"Ma'am!" Nia interrupted loudly, jumping up and down. "Can I go to Hogwarts too?"
McGonagall's expression softened slightly as she looked at the little girl. "Only children who are eleven years old and have received an acceptance letter may attend, I'm afraid."
"Nia, you aren't eleven yet," Albert said, patting his sister's head to comfort her. He turned back to the Professor. "Where do I buy my school supplies? And the train ticket mentioned in the letter—where do I catch this train?"
He accepts quickly, McGonagall noted with approval.
"You will find everything you need in London," she said. "Head to Charing Cross Road. Look for a pub called The Leaky Cauldron. You will be able to see it, though the Muggles around you will not notice it. The landlord's name is Tom. Ask him how to get into Diagon Alley, and he will be happy to guide you."
She paused, adjusting her glasses.
"As for the train, it departs from King's Cross Station. The entrance to the platform is located in the barrier wall between Platform 9 and Platform 10. You must walk directly through the solid wall."
"Walk through a wall?" Daisy scoffed, her sarcasm returning in full force. "Taking a steam train to a wizard school is ridiculous enough. What's the matter? Have all your magic carpets broken down?"
"Daisy," Herb coughed lightly, nudging her. He handed a notepad to McGonagall. "Professor, could you write those directions down? I don't want to miss anything."
McGonagall obliged, scribbling the instructions in neat, looping script.
"Very well. We shall see you at Hogwarts on September 1st, Mr. Anderson." McGonagall stood up to leave.
"Wait, Professor! Can you change it back first?" Albert pointed to the gray mouse still resting in his hand.
"Oh, certainly."
McGonagall waved her wand casually. The mouse instantly stiffened and morphed back into the floral teacup.
Albert walked the Professor to the door. She stepped onto the porch, turned on her heel, and—
CRACK.
She vanished into thin air.
"She... she just disappeared?" Herb stared at the empty space on the porch, blinking rapidly.
"Apparition," Albert murmured, closing the door. He turned to his stunned father. "Dad, are we still going to London tomorrow?"
"Oh... oh, yes. Yes, we'll go to London to buy... things. Tomorrow," Herb replied, his mind still reeling.
"I want to go too!" Nia grabbed her father's hand, looking up with pleading eyes.
"Not this time," Albert said, shaking his head firmly. "I need to familiarize myself with this new world first. It might be overwhelming. Next time, I'll take you and Mom. I promise I'll bring you back a magical gift."
"Hmph! Albert is so annoying!" Nia stomped her foot, pouted, and marched away up the stairs.
Albert spread his hands helplessly at Herb. He turned back to the living room. The external threats were handled, but he still had a "big one" (Daisy) and a "small one" (Nia) inside the house that needed serious appeasing before he could sleep.