Chapter 1
Being the so-called “Hero of the Wizarding World” you get used to strangers approaching you acting like they have something you want to hear. I normally would have dismissed the women who knocked on my door as the usual strange fan you see once in a while. But when Mary Macdonald looked at me and said “Jesus Christ, you look so much more like your mother in person,” I instantly knew this was something to care about.
She was a pretty woman of about 42, with brown skin and a nineteen-eighties Afro, with brown hair and eyes to match, and I could swear I recognized her from somewhere. “Hello, you are?” I asked, hoping I didn't sound rude.
“Mary, Mary Macdonld,” she stated boldly, and I could tell she was here for a reason.
“Well, nice to meet you Mary. What brings you to my flat?”
“I am here to tell you the true story of Lily Jane Evans, the love of my life, and your mother.”
I instantly let this woman into my flat, since it’s not everyday a stranger walks into your house claiming to have loved your dead mother.
“Okay, so can you explain to me how and why you knew my mother.”
“Of course I can,” she said, sitting on the empty sofa. “But let’s start with the summer.”
I spent twenty-one years distancing myself from the Wizarding World as much as possible, and I still question whether Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was the best or worst thing that ever happened to me.
30th of June, 1971
“Mary, darling, would you pass Sophie the ketchup?” My mother asked.
“Sure, here you go,” I spoke as I reached over and handed my sister the bottle.
I was a month out from eleven, about to start Secondary School in east London. I never thought I was anything special. My mother was a waitress at the diner down the way, and Father was a postman. We didn’t have too much, but enough for a family of seven to make it in London. We had lived in an ordinary flat; me, mum and dad, and my four siblings.
Dad was a Nigerian man who I looked identical to, even down to the nose. Whilst my mother was a white woman, blonde hair, blue eyes, and a smile on her face no matter where she went. We were content, and I was the average ten year old mixed kid in southeast London, that is, until right then at dinner, there was a knock on the door.
Father opened the door to reveal a tall,
Stern women wearing green robes and glasses. “May I help you?” My dad questioned, seeming confused.
“Yes, are you the father of Mary Ann Macdonald?” She asked, and my parents both stared at each other, their minds blanking on words.
“Erm, yes, but why do you need her?”
“Well, you're not going to believe me, but may I come inside and speak to you?” Asked the women, and I, quite frankly, just wanted to finish dinner.
“Sure thing,” said my dad, still confused, but he was always a trusting man, so he led her in anyway.
She sat adjacent to me on the sofa, and all I knew was that for being a total stranger, this woman made me feel as comfortable as possible.
“So you must be Mary, am I right?”
“Yup, my name is Mary Macdonald.”
“Well Mary, would you believe me if I told you you were a witch.”
“What?” I asked, intrigued.
“Well, my name is Minerva McGonagall, and I am the transfiguration professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and i’m here to invite you to join our school.”
She began explaining, and the world was never the same again.