Chapter Text
The cat outside their cottage—the one that had been there every Sunday as the sun began to rise for the last four weeks—was markedly absent that morning as Jennifer Honey gathered breakfast in their small kitchen. The tiles were mildly cool beneath her bare feet as she finished setting a tall stack of pancakes in the middle of the spread on the table, though the cottage was already beginning to warm up around her as the sun rose higher. The trees were just beginning to think about changing, Jenny noted, as they did without fail each year. Summer holding its breath as autumn began to take its first steps.
She had seen so many seasons change from this very kitchen.
It had once been a refuge—a lonely one, but a necessary berth between her and the world and its dangers. In the past four and a half years, as seasons had bled into each other, Jennifer Honey had watched them with renewed wonder through another’s eyes. She had shared this small corner of the world with the daughter she had never expected to be gifted with, and it was better for it. She was better for it.
And she knew what today would bring, so long as her instincts four and a half years ago had been correct.
“Morning, mum,” she heard from behind her, accompanied by the whistle of the kettle she had set on the stove earlier, “What are you looking at?”
Jenny smiled and turned, giving her daughter a kiss on the forehead as she moved to take the kettle off the stove and turn off the gas.
“Happy birthday, my dear,” Jenny said, guiding them both to the table, “I was just noticing that the cat hasn’t yet shown her face this morning.”
The twinkle in her eye was unmistakable but explained away easily enough by the joy of Matilda’s eleventh birthday. They both sat down to the traditional Honey family birthday pancake breakfast, and Jenny was quick to set them both up with their plates and drinks just as they both liked them. A part of her keened, wanted to pull another cup from the cabinet and set a third place with a wave of her hand but she stayed it. Soon, she told herself.
They settled into easy conversation, allowing the July breeze to seep into the cottage and carry its light air in to buoy the joy of the day. Just as the conversation lulled, just as Jenny rose to put the kettle back on the stove for the second cuppa she would undoubtedly want in due time, a crisp knock sounded at their front door.
It was time.
Jenny opened the door to a face she had not seen in more than a decade—not since she herself had left the very place from which the woman came—and the set of her shoulders immediately softened. She remembered keenly what it was like to feel utterly safe within those walls.
“Good morning, Miss Honey,” the woman spoke with the same air she had all those years ago, as if she always knew exactly what was happening.
“Professor McGonagall,” Jenny grinned, and moved to let the woman in, “I suppose you aren’t too surprised to see me, given your prior—”
“Reconnaissance, Miss Honey?” the woman winked, “I would protest, but you’ve always been too smart to let these things get by you. I must say, I was surprised to see you here at first.”
“Who’s here, Mum?” Matilda called from the kitchen, just out of sight, “Give me a second, I’m going to wash my hands!”
Jenny gestured for the professor to join them in the kitchen, taking the opportunity while Matilda was out of the room to try an old trick. She focused and allowed the familiar sensation to wash over her. An extra cup and saucer were pulled from the cabinets and set soundlessly on the table.
“I haven’t done that in years—” she trailed off quietly, relishing in the sensation at her fingertips. It wasn’t quite a breath of fresh air, but rather the deepest of exhales, the stale air she had held in for so long finally giving way.
“And I daresay you are still as brilliant as the day you left our gates, Jennifer,” Professor McGonagall replied, “not many can do that quite so gracefully—wandlessly at that—after as long a sabbatical from it. But I suppose you must have noticed then, my dear, as you were expecting me?”
“She’s brilliant, Professor,” Jenny began, trying not to gush, “When she was nearly seven, she did some truly incredible things. She reminded me a lot of Lily, now that I think about it. I haven’t said a word because I wasn’t sure, and I’ve been away from all of it for so long, but I did so hope I would be right.”
Minerva smiled, allowing the sadness of students lost in the past few decades to seep into it as she said, “Lily’s boy will be a first year as well.”
Matilda bounded back into the kitchen, her attention immediately piqued by the tall woman with dark hair sitting straight-backed in a third chair they did not usually have at the kitchen table, who her mum seemed so very at ease with.
“Good morning, young Miss Honey, and happy birthday,” the woman said, setting a thick envelope down on the table in front of Matilda, “My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I have been waiting to give you this letter for quite a while. I teach, you see, at a school a ways away from here for young children like you who are special, and we would like to extend an invitation for you to join us.”
Matilda was trying to put her finger on the lilt in the woman’s voice, the way her vowels were shaped a little different than Matilda’s own. She reached for the letter, peering up at her mum for permission to open it, and slid her thumb under the wax seal when she was given a nod of approval.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she read. Her lips parted, already armed with sixteen questions and barely enough lung capacity to ask them all, before she stilled them and made herself continue reading before she began to ask questions.
Dear Miss Honey,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
This made sense, somehow, in Matilda’s head. It explained so many things she had wondered about in her now-eleven years of existence. Witchcraft and wizardry, she thought, and before she could stop it the words came tumbling out of her mouth, “There are others like me?”
“Yes, my dear girl,” the woman—the deputy headmistress, Matilda realised—said kindly, “Many more like you. Many children just like you with the incredible gift of magic inside them. Hogwarts allows each of you a space to grow into this gift. You will spend seven years with your peers learning how to harness this magic and use it for good.”
Matilda’s brow furrowed as she asked aloud, “But I’ve never met an adult with magic before. Does it all go away when you grow up?”
“Not at all!” Minerva assured, pulling out a slim and polished stick—a wand, Matilda presumed—and turning the cup and saucer in front of her into a dove and back again, “Some children grow up in wizarding families. That is, parents who are witches and wizards themselves who often use magic in their everyday lives. Others grow up either with parents who were never magical in the first place or do not use magic for some reason or another. Either way, all children are not allowed to practice magic until they begin their wizarding education at eleven, so you are not at all behind, I assure you.”
Minerva looked furtively at Jenny; her clear green eyes were not insistent but encouraging. Jenny took a breath, rose out of her chair, and walked to the clock that hung on the kitchen wall. Sliding a panel off the left side of the clock, she pulled out a long rectangular case of dark wood and brought it to the table.
Unclasping the box, Jenny fought the urge to bite her lip as she often did and pulled out the wand she had put away years ago before beginning to speak quietly, “I went to Hogwarts, Matilda. Years ago. I had to come back right after graduation, and under my aunt’s thumb there was no way I would be allowed magic; my father’s family wasn’t magical, but my mother’s was. I hid this away until I got this cottage and left her house, but even then, I hid it because I still saw her every day. And once I didn’t have to anymore, I just didn’t know how to go back to not hiding it anymore. Matilda, Hogwarts was where I spent the best years of my life before I met you. You’ll love it there, I’m sure.”
“Does every student get a visit before they arrive?” Matilda asked, “That must be a whole lot of visits you have to do.”
“We—well, I—only visit students who are coming in from non-wizarding families. It often takes a bit more explaining, making sure that parents trust that their children will be safe at this strange school they’ve never heard of, and if you turn to the next page you’ll see the list of supplies that, understandably, would be difficult for students to obtain without knowing where to get them, and we help them,” Minerva explained, then paused as she conjured another thick envelope seemingly from nowhere, “In your case, though your mum is a witch the Wormwoods were not, so your name came across my desk as one I might consider visiting in person. In all honesty, your mum would have been more than able to take you to get your things, but I am also here on a different matter.”
She slid the letter across the table to Jenny, who picked it up tentatively.
“There is an opening, my dear, on our staff. Muggle Studies, as you well know is an underappreciated subject at best, a neglected one at worst. With everything going on, well, the entire staff agrees need someone who can hold their own in that position, and you were always such a bright student,” Minerva explained.
“Professor, do you mean—”
Minerva smiled softly, “Hogwarts wants to welcome you home again, Jennifer.”
“I don’t have a mastery—”
“Jennifer, you’ve taught for years. You’ve run a school. You are beyond qualified for this position, not to mention a brilliant witch who obviously misses the wizarding world,” Minerva pushed back, “There is simply no reason not to.”
They would both get to go to Hogwarts, Jenny realised, her heart soaring.
“Think on it, both of you,” Minerva assured, “You need not make a decision until the end of the month, after all.”
“I’m going!” Matilda exclaimed.
“As am I,” Jenny affirmed in kind.
“When can I get these new books?” Matilda asked, nearly out of her seat in excitement.
Minerva chuckled at her earnestness and replied, “If you wouldn’t mind spending some of your birthday getting school supplies, I could take both of you to Diagon Alley now with another new student whose parents are Muggles. Her name is Hermione Granger, and I think the two of you will get along just swimmingly from what I’ve seen so far.”
Jenny allowed herself to get swept along as Minerva side-along apparated them both first to the Grangers, then took them by portkey to Diagon Alley. The familiar buzz of magic thrummed around and through her, carrying her along as both girls eagerly made their way through getting the supplies and books they needed. All of this had felt a lifetime away. She had been fulfilled, certainly, in the years since leaving Hogwarts and certainly since taking over her aunt’s school. However, as the children in the small town they lived in grew older, there became less and less a need for the school’s existence. This past year had been their last with a truly sustainable population, and preparations had already been made to transfer the small remainder of students to the school between this town and the next. There was nothing holding her back from going to the only place that had felt like home since she was a child.
If there was ever a memory that could power a patronus, Jenny was certain it would be this one.