Unworthy

First Year - 1

Muggleborns always know when they're different from the other children they've grow up around. It's almost like a radar, or some sixth sense telling them that what they perceive to be very normal is soon about to change.

Erica is certainly no exception to this sixth sense.

While her magic abilities did not show itself until she was near ten years old, nor were the happenings obvious enough to warrant suspicion from those around her, it was clear to her that something was off.

Even though furniture wasn't quite floating in the air or spontaneously combusting, she can recall numerous times she's reached for something in a lazy manner, like a book, only for it to suddenly jump off of the table and onto the floor.

But she dismissed it entirely as just a funny coincidence - or that her house was simply haunted by a prankster poltergeist.

"Erica, can you please stop knocking things over?" Her mother pleads halfheartedly as she reaches down to pick up a couple of napkins off the floor. "I am tired of picking up after you."

Erica looks up from her plate, confused. The napkins had been in front of her, but she doesn't remember knocking them off the table. "Sorry."

"Might've been a draft or the AC that knocked them over." Her father says. "They kind of just... flew off the table."

There's a knock at the door, and her father rises from his seat at the table to answer it. Erica, feeling nosy, turns her head to look at the door. Once her father opens it, she sees an old man and a woman standing there, a letter in the man's hand. They're both dressed rather oddly.

"Laurent LaRue?" The old man questions.

"Yes, I am he." Her father says. "Can I help you?"

"Yes. We need to talk to you both about your daughter, Erica." The woman says. "May we come in?"

Her father raises an eyebrow, but steps out of the way to allow them to enter their home. Her mother finally steps out of the kitchen, her arms crossed. "Laurent? Who are these people?"

"I'm not sure... they said they needed to speak to us about Erica."

"And so you just let them in our house?"

"Please, Mrs. LaRue, take a seat." The man says as the two oddly dressed people sit down on the couch. "You too, Erica. We have much to discuss."

It takes a few more moments of silently confused staring, but everyone soon eventually sits down in the living room.

The silence carries on a moment longer until the man speaks. "Mr. and Mrs. LaRue. This is Minerva McGonagall, and my name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?" Laurent asks. "Is this some kind of a private school?"

"It's a school for witches and wizards alike." Dumbledore explains, prompting looks of confusion from the three sitting opposite of him. "It is like a boarding school of sorts, as Erica would be there the whole year, excluding holidays. I know this is going to be difficult for you to understand... but your daughter is a witch."

"These people must be on drugs." Aimee says. "Magic isn't real. It's a fairy tale."

McGonagall stands up and pulls out what Erica can only guess is a wand. She points it at a book on the side table.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

The book on the table levitates, and then settles back down after a moment. Erica gapes at the spot where the book just defied gravity, while her parents start trying to find a reasonable explanation for what just occurred.

Obviously they can't find one.

"This is crazy." Aimee says. "I mean, say we even believe all of this - How can she have these magical powers when neither of us do? We're both... well... ordinary."

"You both what we call muggles in our world, people without magical abilities. She is a Muggle-born. A witch or wizard born to two muggle parents." Dumbledore explains. "Muggle-borns inherit magic from a distant ancestor or ancestors. They are far descended from Squibs, which are non-magical people who are born to at least one magical parent, who have married Muggles and whose families had lost the knowledge of their wizarding legacy. The magic resurfaces unexpectedly many generations later."

"Oh..." Laurent purses his lips. "... uhh... well... this is... certainly a lot to take in..."

"It's alright. We understand how shocking it is to have something so incredibly new and unordinary be introduced to your lives." McGonagall says. "To make the transition a bit easier, we have arranged for one of our staff members, Severus Snape, to escort you and your daughter while you go shopping for school supplies. That is... if you decide to send her to Hogwarts."

There is a long silence from both Laurent and Aimee. Erica looks at both of her parents wary expressions before deciding to speak up for herself.

"I would like to go." Her parents both look at her in bewilderment. "What? New and unordinary doesn't always have to be scary, it can be fun too. It sounds way better than the school I'm going to now, anyways."

Her father nods. "Very well. If she is as gifted as you say, and she wants to go... I don't see why not."

"I... suppose there's no harm in it." Her mother relents.

Dumbledore hands Aimee a letter. "That is Erica's Hogwarts acceptance letter. Her supply list is there. I will send Severus here next week, so you can go to Diagon Alley and gather everything."

"Okay." Aimee stares down at the letter, still looking as though she's been hit by a train. "Thank you very much."

"Oh and, get yourself a family owl." McGonagall advises. "It's how letters and parcels are delivered to the school."

An owl?! Aimee blinks in confusion, completely lost now.

"Okay. We will." Laurent says, as if he understands the owl bit more than his wife. "Thank you both."

Dumbledore and McGonagall say their goodbyes and promptly leave, the family just barely catching sight of them disapparating away.

Aimee places a hand on her forehead, gently sets the letter down on the table and gets up. "I think I'll be needing a coffee."

Laurent nods. "Make one for me, too."