The Letter
Lily had been eagerly anticipating her letter since Severus had informed her of such a happening.
When she was ten, Lily told her sister in the way of an excited childish ramble. “Hogwarts! Tuney, can you believe it?! They have magic, Sev and his mum! And he said we’ll go to Hogwarts together!”
Petunia was thirteen years of age–to her, well past the age of make-believe, and as such, highly disbelieving of all imaginings her baby sister had claimed to see. She crossed her arms and stood firmly as she snobbishly lectured her sister, “No such thing as Hogwarts! Mum would have told us about it if it were an option. No,” she shook her head dismissively, “No. You’ll go to Salem, like mum and gran and me; or to Illvermorny, like Da’s family.”
The following weekend, Lily confronted Severus by their tree, “It is real, isn’t it?” He sat up, and she crossed her arms in a reflection of her elder sister, “It’s not a joke? Petunia says you’re lying to me. Petunia says there isn’t a Hogwarts. It is real, isn’t it?” Lily didn’t tell him of Salem, she knew it wasn’t allowed.
Severus stood and grabbed hold of her hands firmly in his, “It’s real for us, not for her,” he stood straighter in his superiority, “But we’ll get the letter, you and me.”
And every morning following her eleventh birthday, Lily would skip eagerly into the back of her father's car, all the while searching and scanning the racing skies for some sort of sign, something out of place.
James had been eagerly anticipating his letter longer than his present memory could discern.
He had been longing for the assurance its presence could provide every day his father brewed a potion and every moment his mother wove her wand through the air.
He had been anticipating its acceptance, every scorched utensil, and every burned fabric.
May 1971
Four months had passed and with no sign yet of any straying owl from its nest.
It was as Lily had been preparing to meet with Severus when the doorbell rang.
“Mum!” Petunia called from the door, “A professor come for Lily. She wants to talk about a school admittance.”
Heart beating, she descended the stairs. Retrieving Mum’s preferred tea set for diplomatic meetings, Lily carefully glided into their receiving room. She settled the set upon the lazy-susan and dipped into a hastily practiced curtsy.
Her sister stepped forward with the still-warm biscuits, “Please sit, Mum and Dad weren’t dressed for company. Although they should be down momentarily to handle the kettle.”
Lily took her cue and sat, as did the professor. From her, Lily heard the chaos of cats in the tundra, smelled the carefully controlled aura of a shimmering green galaxy, and felt the musk of a prowling tabby.
She tilted her head sideways, then she was upside down, examining this curiosity from ‘another angle’ .
“Lily!” her sister scolded, snapping her fingers in an attempt to hide her sister's ‘outburst’.
For a moment, the professor’s eyes seemed to have glazed over and she was still.
Pop… once more Lily was sitting right side up—hopping still restless on her seat—and the Professor snapped out of her trance.
“Sorry, ma’am.” Lily lowered her head to hide the glittering amusement in her eyes.
“Whatever to apologize for?” the professor sounded of towering green hills.
Petunia slumped in slight relief.
“That is quite spectacular magic for one your age.” the professor continued.
Petunia tensed again.
Lily snapped her head up with a startling speed, “Really?!” She barely noticed the ache in her neck as her mother and father entered with the kettle.
The Professor came from Hogwarts, sent to inform her of the wizarding world.
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor, Head of Transfiguration at Hogwarts School for witchcraft and wizardry.
Her father meets the professor, her hand to his lips as she rises to meet the greeting. As they took their seats, the professor once more and father for the first time this day, mother pours a cup for the professor while Petunia returned with their set of tea bags.
“Hogwarts you say?” Father spoke in a soft cadence as he set down his tea, the professor followed suit, “I was not aware of a magical school here in England .”
“There is not,” Professor McGonagall assured, “Hogwarts is located in Northern Scotland and students will board the Hogwarts Express at Kings Cross.” She handed him a coarse envelope, ‘ Parchment?’. One side stamped with red wax, the other a bright emerald green text:
Ms. L. Evans
The smallest bedroom
Cokeworth, England
“Hmm, I s’pose it would be closer than Ilvermorny…” he examined the letter, gently peeling the wax, and skimming its contents.
“Illvermorny?!” the professor nearly choked on her biscuit.
“Yes, you’ve heard of it?" he asked, then continued on before he could receive an answer, her gap of befuddlement told him all he needed to know.
“Of course, I’ve heard of it! It is the school of Witchcraft and Wizardry for North America, as is Hogwarts for the British Isles, and Beuxbton for Western Europe. May I ask how you, a muggle, has come to know of it?”
Father sat straighter in his seat, eyes squinting at the seaming insult "My great-grandfather attended, and when his daughter, my grandmother, failed to show any signs of magic, he moved our family here. And here is where we've been since."
“Squibs then, I suppose you wouldn’t know much of the wizarding community here.”
“We weren’t particularly aware of any other magical humans, no.” Lily held in the urge to respond in the positive.
“Would you be willing to explain, how is Lily eligible for Hogwarts? From what I remember of my great-granda's stories, the magical community was heavily separated from their no-maj neighbors. And magical families had to register their children for school themselves”
“As young Ms. Evans was born here, she was listed in our book of admittance the moment she displayed her first spark of accidental magic. As you say, Illvermorny only sends out their invitations from the MCUSA, via prior registration.” a curious hum from her mum, “—meaning the Magical Congress of the United States of America.
“On the matter, Hogwarts sends out our invitations straight from the castle. Magical families who know of Hogwarts previously receive their letters directly by owl, sometime in June. For muggleborns, that is children of non-magical parents,-” her mum and dad exchanged furtive glances while Petunia’s carefully sculpted posture showed the barest of a crack.
The professor continued, unaware of any such exchange, “A school representative, such as myself, brings the letter personally to explain the situation in detail and to answer all questions asked.” she took a moment to finish her tea, “Any questions? Will Ms. Evans be attending Hogwarts, otherwise I could begin the process for a transfer to Illvermorny, as Ms. Evans would be a legacy student, an exception for natural birth could be made.”
“Hm…” her father turned his attention to his youngest daughter, “What do you think, Flower? Hogwarts or Illvermorny?”
Without hesitation, “Hogwarts, Hogwarts! Sev’s going to Hogwarts too! I want to go with him!”
“Sev?” her father and Professor McGonagall ask in unison.
Her father, indigent, “Severus is a wizard! Why haven’t I heard of this?”
The professor, befuddled, “I do not believe I have a muggleborn Severus on my list.”
“Sev’s not a muggleborn, he’s a halfblood,” Lily rolled her eyes, tilting her head to address her parents, “Mrs. Snape is Eileen Prince. They didn’t tell me” she assured the gapping professor, “but it was in a wizarding genealogy book he lent me a couple of weeks ago.”
“What book?” her mum asked.
**Pop** Lily summoned the tombe from thin air, “-and great-great-great-great-great-great-great-” A sharp gaze from her mum cut her ramble short, “-great-grandmum’s here too.”
“ And why do you still have it?”
“I was just heading out to meet with Severus when Professor McGonagall arrived,”
“Speaking of, I should be heading out soon. Still, a few families to inform before noon end. So will Ms. Evans be attending Hogwarts, then?”
An eager nod from Lily, an affirmative from her father, “Yes, I think, will we be needing to sign anything? Grandmum described the magical world as alike to a foreign country. Do we need to apply for her citizenship?”
“What of currency?” Petunia mindlessly uttered.
“Cultural faux pas we should be aware of?” her mother added.
“Nothing at the moment, simply a confirmation of attendance written by Ms. Evans,” the professor summoned a green quill, shade matching that of her robes, passing it to Lily along with a blank parchment, “Hogwarts takes care of ‘citizenship’, by the age of 17 a witch or wizard graduating from Hogwarts is considered an adult and knowledgeable enough to integrate seamlessly within our society.
“Muggle currency can be exchanged into galleons–golden coins, sickle–silver coins, and knuts–bronze at Diagonally, where you’ll also be receiving your school supplies. I have time later this afternoon, to escort you if you don’t mind a few more families.
“I believe there may be some etiquette books available in the Ally bookstore, otherwise, 16th-century british nobility may be a good reference for what may be expected.”
The professor and her parents spoke for another half hour, but as the most important part—to Lily—had already been decided, she mentally dozed off, until the the professor rose to leave. Her parents shook her hand and Lily curtsied her goodbye.
24 July 1971
The day James received his Hogwarts letter was as normal as any other. That being said, his father had to nearly deplete their rather substantial stash of burn salves before the tawny had been able to fly off with his response.