Cael hadn't slept well.
Every time he closed his eyes, his brain replayed that letter—the one where he basically confessed to Diagon Alley-breaking-and-entering, begged for a cool teacher instead of a lunatic, and casually name-dropped integrals like some kind of magical math prodigy.
At one point during the night, he sat bolt upright in bed and whispered, "What if I just… pretend the owl got lost?"
The System snorted. "Too late, champ. By now it's probably being read aloud at a Hogwarts staff meeting."
Cael groaned and buried his face beneath the pillow. "Kill me."
"Again? Already?"
But morning arrived all the same—hot, humid, and unnervingly normal.
Breakfast was the usual mix of toast, eggs, and one kid trying to pour milk into their cereal from a foot too high. Mama Linda moved around the kitchen humming something old and soothing. The other children squealed at the cartoons playing in the common room. Cael sat at the far end of the long dining table, pretending to read a book while secretly bracing for the sky to fall.
It didn't.
Not until exactly 10:12 a.m.
There came a knock at the front door.
Mama Linda, mid-humming, opened it.
And in walked a woman who looked like she'd stepped straight out of a Dickens novel—and perhaps a military strategy briefing. Tall, composed, and sharply dressed in emerald-green robes, her square spectacles flashed with precision. Her iron-grey bun didn't so much as tremble in the summer breeze. She surveyed the entrance hall with a raised eyebrow, as though judging whether it was clean enough for magic itself to be performed.
Cael choked on his toast.
Professor Minerva McGonagall. In the flesh.
"Mama Linda?" the woman asked crisply, her accent cutting through the room like a spell.
"Yes… I'm Linda Vale," she said, blinking in surprise. "Can I help you?"
McGonagall offered a polite smile. "I'm here regarding one of your children. Mr. Cael Vale."
At the mention of his name, Cael very nearly dove behind the sofa. But McGonagall's eyes had already zeroed in on him like a heat-seeking spell.
"You must be Mr. Vale," she said, striding forward. "We received your… spirited reply."
Cael rose to his feet, cautiously, like someone expecting to be hexed on the spot. "Uh… yes, ma'am. I—I wrote that. Thank you for not, um… arresting me?"
Her expression didn't shift. "There was no cause for arrest. However, I must say—your letter was… unique."
Mama Linda glanced between the two of them, utterly perplexed. "Excuse me, but—what exactly is this about?"
McGonagall turned to her with the kind of calm authority that could silence a dragon. "Mrs. Vale, I am Deputy Headmistress of a school called Hogwarts. It is a boarding institution for exceptionally gifted children. Your boy, Cael, has been accepted."
Mama Linda blinked. "Gifted?"
"With magic," Cael whispered under his breath.
"With exceptional potential," McGonagall corrected smoothly, not missing a beat.
A silence fell over the room.
Then Mama Linda looked at McGonagall, then at Cael, then back again. "Is this one of those prank shows? Because last time, it was a man in a rabbit costume who claimed he was Jesus."
Cael held up his hands. "It's real, Mama. I swear I didn't make this up."
To prove her point, McGonagall reached into her robes and drew a wand. With a subtle flick, a nearby mug floated gently into the air, hovered for a moment, then settled itself neatly on the table.
Mama Linda screamed.
Five minutes and one glass of water later, they sat in the living room. McGonagall perched neatly on the worn sofa as if it were a throne, while Mama Linda stared at her in stunned silence. Cael sat beside her, trying not to bounce in place like a child on Christmas morning.
"I understand this may sound unbelievable," McGonagall said, her tone calm and matter-of-fact. "But I assure you, Hogwarts is a well-established school under the supervision of the British Ministry of Magic. The government is aware of our existence—so is the Royal Family, in fact. Every year, children born with magical potential are invited to attend, provided their guardians give consent."
Mama Linda blinked. "So… Cael really has magic?"
"He has quite a lot of potential," McGonagall said with a slight smile. "Though I must admit, his method of discovering Diagon Alley was… unorthodox."
"I told you," Cael muttered, "following that man into the pub was an accident. He looked like a clown—I thought it was a circus act."
McGonagall's face remained impassive. "That is not a method we endorse."
Mama Linda looked hesitant. "How much does it cost? I mean—if there's a fee, I can try to find someone willing to sponsor him…"
McGonagall shook her head gently. "There's no need. Tuition, boarding, and supplies are fully covered for all admitted children."
Mama Linda exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing for the first time since the wand demonstration. She looked down at Cael.
"Do you… want to go?"
Cael stared at her, heart pounding. "More than anything."
She hesitated—just for a moment—then smiled. "Then go. Just promise me you'll write."
"I will!" he said eagerly. "And I'll study hard, and maybe get an owl, and—"
"Let's not overwhelm her," McGonagall said dryly. "We've only just recovered from your letter."
When the front door closed behind them, the heat of the summer sun wrapped around them like a blanket. An owl circled lazily overhead, its wings catching the light.
Cael turned to McGonagall, beaming. "So… do I get points for honesty?"
She gave him a sidelong look. "No. But you do get points for creativity. And for surviving your little Leaky Cauldron escapade without being hexed into a teacup."
The System chimed in smugly.
"Oh boy. You really know how to make a first impression."
Cael grinned like an idiot.
Hogwarts was real.
Magic was real.
And now—finally—it was time to go.