All of Hogwarts' professors were gathered in Dumbledore's office at his request; some stood, some sat, some chatted, and others, like Severus Snape, were silent. All were waiting for Dumbledore to tell them what was so urgent. He was currently speaking quietly with Minerva McGonagall on the far side of his office. McGonagall listened intently, as if to instruction, then nodded her head. Dumbledore immediately turned to face the little congregation. "Thank you all for coming. This will only take a moment of your time. It has been brought to my attention that a certain young lady has been overlooked by us, and is in need of proper magical instruction."
"That's not possible, Albus. Magical children never go unnoticed by Hogwarts. The Magical Quill detects them at birth," said Filius Flitwick from his cozy overstuffed chair.
"She's a special case, Filius. Apparently her abilities are only just beginning to appear."
"How old is this girl?" asked Pomona Sprout from an identical chair next to Flitwick.
"Twenty-four," replied Dumbledore cheerily, as if there was nothing at all odd about her age. He was answered by a chorus of low groans from the professors.
"Is Hogwarts to play host to imbeciles now, Headmaster?" asked Snape, who was followed up by Flitwick. "She's far too old to attend Hogwarts, Albus. Isn't there an alternative?"
"Technically she will not be a Hogwarts student. I have no intention of sorting her or placing her any classes."
"Well, how do you expect us to teach her anything?" asked Sprout, her brow furrowed in bewilderment.
Dumbledore chose not to answer Sprout directly, opting instead to address everyone. "In light of the young lady's unusual circumstances, I must ask all of you to provide individual tuition." This statement was followed by a louder chorus of groans and some of the professors began to pace in irritation. "I know it is an imposition on all of you, but I ask this as a personal favor to me. This girl is near and dear to my heart. I know that you will all find her as delightful and charming as I do. Thank you."
The small congregation rose and left, grumbling all the way. Snape stayed behind, waiting for everyone to leave before he spoke. "Are you certain that this is a good idea, Headmaster?"
"Absolutely, Severus."
Snape didn't receive the answer he wanted, and so chose another tactic. "Latent magical abilities tend not to develop beyond a modest degree. Are you certain that it's in the girl's best interest to be exposed to the many talented young wizards and witches at Hogwarts?"
"Possibly not, but it will certainly be in our best interests," replied Dumbledore.
"How so, Headmaster?"
"Severus, this girl has managed to keep herself secret from us, and I suspect she's done it for a considerable amount of time. That ability alone may prove very useful to us in the future. Minerva and I are on our way to meet the young lady. We shan't be gone more than a couple of hours--"
"Meet her?" said Snape. "Did you not just say that the girl is dear to you?"
"Well, I have no doubt that she will be." Dumbledore grinned, his eyes dancing. His attire and hair changed in an instant. He now wore a brown tweed suit complete with matching cap and leather patches on his elbows. His hair and beard were short and neatly trimmed. McGonagall drew nearer and Snape could see that she was now wearing a high-necked, white, linen blouse; a long, red, tartan skirt; a red tartan bonnet; and a short, grey, tweed blazer. They looked every bit the well-to-do, conservative, country couple. "How do we look, Severus?" asked Dumbledore, obviously very proud of his fashion sense.
"Stunning, Headmaster," Snape replied flatly.
###
Lindsay sat at her piano with a pencil tucked behind her ear. She was frowning a little as her fingers moved over the piano keys, attempting to work out the kinks in the melody she'd just written. She abruptly stopped playing and listened to what sounded like a powerful howling gust of wind. She rose to look out a heavily curtained window. Lindsay kept the curtains drawn to protect the musical instruments in the room, many of which were antique, from damaging sunlight.
She peered out the window to witness a violent rainstorm; the worst she'd ever seen in the ten years she'd lived in England. The sky was black. The rain came down so ferociously that it almost completely obscured her vision. She was startled by a loud crash, and couldn't tell at first from where the sound had come. Finally, she ran to the front door, opened it, and peered into the torrential rain.
Two vaguely visible figures emerged from something large and bright yellow. There was a low stone wall that bordered her pebbled driveway. The yellow thing was directly on top of where the wall should be. "It must be a car," thought Lindsay. "Someone must have driven it into the wall." She ran out the door toward the two figures. "Hello! Is everyone okay?"
"We're fine, dearie," answered a woman with a Scottish accent, "but I'm not so sure the same can said of your garden wall."
"Don't worry about that. It can be fixed," said Lindsay as she hooked her arm through the woman's. The accompanying gentleman was holding the Scottish woman's other arm. "Just come with me into the house, and we'll get you sorted out."
They entered into a large vestibule, and from there passed through large doors into an even larger front hall. They were all drenched to the skin. "Have a seat here," said Lindsay as she escorted them to a long, dark, wooden bench with scarlet red upholstery. "Do either of you have a headache, sore neck, any aches or pains?"
"No, dearie, we're fine."
"I should still call for an ambulance."
"That won't be necessary," said the gentleman.
"You may feel fine now," said Lindsay as she walked across the hall to a high table with an old telephone sitting atop it, "but you'll likely feel very differently when your adrenaline has died down." She continued to speak with her back turned to them as she tapped the telephone, trying to get it to work. "You're most likely fine, as you say, but adrenaline can mask some serious injuries. Most are easily treatable, but only if we get you to hospital in a reasonable amount of time. Ugh, the phone's dead. I'll try the cordless one. I doubt it'll work, but it's worth a try." She glanced at the couple. The gentleman was now standing and both were bone dry. The recognition was barely perceptible, but both Dumbledore and McGonagall were sure the girl had seen the change in them, and was trying to convince herself otherwise. "It's just here in my study." Lindsay sloshed through an open doorway and emerged seconds later. "No luck there either." She stopped suddenly and her eyes widened as she saw the man pull an odd-looking stick from his sleeve and point it at her. She was instantly dry. "What's going on here?"
"My name is Albus Dumbledore and this is Minerva McGonagall. We are professors at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We've come here to invite you to our school and to teach you how to use your gift."
"Okay," said Lindsay slowly. "Look, I don't know what you people are up to, but you can clearly see that this place is in disrepair. The valuable items that may once have occupied the rooms here are all gone. And if, by chance, it's me you're interested in, I am well versed in several forms of martial arts, and I will have no problem breaking your necks." That last statement made McGonagall harrumph in indignation.
"We don't want to harm you," said Dumbledore, "only help you."
"Thank you for the concern, Mr. Dumbledore," said Lindsay stiffly, "but I don't need help from anyone. Now if you would follow me to my car, I'll drive you to hospital myself."
Dumbledore said nothing as he turned to a closed door behind him. "That door is locked, sir," said Lindsay curtly. Dumbledore waved his hand over the doorknob and the door swung open. He motioned for McGonagall to enter the room ahead of him. She was taken aback by the wreckage within. The walls were scorched. The scant amount of furniture was split in half, or otherwise broken, and scorched. The white marble mantel was essentially a pile of rubble. The windows were mired in dirt and full of cracks; thick tape had been spread over them. In the middle of it all, on the floor directly in front of the fireplace, sat the melted remains of a cordless phone. McGonagall and Dumbledore moved farther into the room, and Lindsay was forced to follow them.
"You did this," said Dumbledore, his blue eyes shimmering. Lindsay just stared at him. "You had an angry disagreement with a former friend, and this was the result."
Lindsay's face blanched. "Rebecca sent you here?"
"No," answered Dumbledore.
"Then who? No one else knows about the fight."
"You know," replied Dumbledore.
"I'm not playing any more games with you, Mr. Dumbledore. Please leave." Lindsay's voice remained controlled, but her tone was icy.
"You had a disagreement over the ownership of this property. It had belonged to Rebecca's uncle, but he left it to you instead of her, which enraged her. She spoke to you via that," Dumbledore pointed to the melted phone. "She threatened you and made you angry. That anger erupted into the devastation we see here. You melted that while you were still holding it. It burnt your ear."
"How did you...I never told anyone...?
"Look out your window. You'll see that the storm has passed and there is no yellow car, or any damage to your property."
Lindsay rubbed a clear spot on the dirty windowpane and peered outside. Everything was as Dumbledore said. She turned back to see that their clothes and hair had changed completely. She shook her head in disbelief. "No...no, it can't be. This isn't real."
McGonagall told Lindsay to watch as she removed her wand from its pocket, and pointed it at a broken down settee. Lindsay watched incredulously as it turned into a hippopotamus. "Go on, touch it," said McGonagall. Lindsay ran her trembling hand over the animal, and it felt warm and life-like. McGonagall flicked her wand again, and the hippo turned back into the broken settee.
"I think this would be a good time for a nice hot cup of tea, don't you?" said Dumbledore.
###
"My family was killed in a car crash when I was fourteen. It started not long after that." Lindsay sat at the head of her dining room table. Dumbledore sat to her right and McGonagall to her left. They each had a cup of tea in front of them. A tray covered in biscuits and sweets sat between them. Dumbledore had already tried one of each.
"And it has been getting steadily stronger since then," said Dumbledore.
"Yes."
"I assure you that it wasn't the tragic event that triggered your abilities, but I have no doubt that the emotional distress you felt intensified its initial manifestation, which evidently caused you even greater distress. Latent magical abilities are rare, but not unheard of, and they would have appeared regardless of the events in your life." Dumbledore dunked a biscuit into his tea and popped it into his mouth. "You keep a very nice home, quite neat and clean."
"Thank you," said Lindsay, confused by the sudden change of subject. "I'm in the middle of restoring this place. I'm about two-thirds finished."
"Yet you allow that one room to remain broken and dirty, might I ask why?"
"I keep it as a reminder to myself ...of what I've done and what I could do."
McGonagall clasped her hand over Lindsay's. "We can help you understand and control your magic. If you come with us to Hogwarts, you'll meet many people just like yourself."
"I don't know. I-I have work..."
"You admit that your magic is getting stronger, controlling it is getting more difficult. You fear that one day you might do to a person what you did to that room. I assure you, your anxiety is well-founded."
"Albus!"
Lindsay blanched again, and her hand trembled under McGonagall's. "Okay, alright, I'll do it."
###
Lindsay saw them out, and they strolled leisurely across the stony driveway. "It's remarkable, Albus. I sensed no magic at all in the girl."
"Nor did I, Minerva. She is uniquely gifted, but I'm very concerned about her state of mind. She has a tremendous fear of her abilities, and I must admit that I'm at a loss as to how to deal with the matter."
"I don't think frightening her as you did was the best choice."
"That was unfortunate, but necessary. We would never have convinced her to come with us otherwise. I think the best course of action would be to treat her as any other first year student and deal with any issues as they arise."
"I agree," said McGonagall. "I'll personally see about getting her settled in. A quick trip to Diagon Alley and she'll be set."
"Thank you, Minerva, but do me this one favor. Don't take her to Ollivander's."
"She must have a wand, Albus."
"I prefer to take care of that myself." In mid-stride, the two figures disappeared into thin air, followed quickly by an audible crack.