Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Light of Hope
Professor McGonagall
4 reviewsOne word, so many consequences. One change, so many outcomes. The life of Harry Potter and his twin sister, Hope, revered by the Wizarding World as the Twins Who Lived.
5Exciting
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. You can try to sue me, but you won't get much. I wouldn't bother.
Light of Hope: Part One
Chapter Three: Hogwarts Letters
It was all they did do until the following day. Hope's thought were in turmoil. By the time she was ready to go to sleep, she was positive that it was all some hoax, and that the Dursleys were laughing behind her back about how she had fallen for it.
She couldn't sleep; her brother couldn't either. They simply waited, unknowing and unprepared for what the future might bring.
The next morning was better. The Dursleys got what might very well have been the best breakfast of their lives as the twins attempted to keep their thoughts from a certain school in Scotland.
It worked--to an extent. Hope couldn't help but wonder how the magical school would contact them. The most obvious method was by mail or telephone, but who said that witches and wizards used telephones? They seemed to use owls for mail, anyway, and it was quite a ways to Scotland, so a message probably couldn't come for several days...unless there was a way to get the owls the their destination faster than the birds would usually fly; they were magical, after all.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Tell them we're not buying, boy," Vernon growled. He grumbled about the nerve of some people, calling without even bothering to ring first, using the decorative knocker instead of the new and perfectly good doorbell as Harry left.
Hope followed, hardly knowing why. Her heart was pounding so loudly, she was positive that a Dursley would hear and demand that she return to mind the bacon.
She stood beside Harry as he opened the door, slipping behind his eyes. A woman stood on the stoop, carrying a large orange handbag and wearing a long, dark green skirt, a dark blue blouse, black stockings, and a long tartan raincoat. Her black hair was pulled tightly back into a bun, and square spectacles perched on her nose. She appeared to be startled at their appearances, and she blinked several times before she spoke.
"Mr. and M--miss Potter?"
"Yes, ma'am," Harry answered. \What do you think?/
\\She's a witch.//
\That was fast/
"I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am here in response to your letter. As it seems you have no way to attain your school supplies, I shall take you to London as is required of me as your future professor."
She said this in a clipped, practiced manner. Hope wondered if she had practiced it before coming, had made this speech before, or if she just always spoke that way.
Harry was talking. "Er, yes... In our letter we asked about a scholarship... is there one? A scholarship? Well, two, I suppose..."
She fixed him with her square gaze. "There are scholarships available, and I have no doubt that both of you should qualify. However, there is no need for that. Your tuition was paid for shortly after the both of you were born. I believe that there is a trust fund set up for you--to be used for school supplies and other necessities until you come of age. I am to escort you both to get them, as well as discuss some... particulars with you."
Hope decided that Harry had suffered enough. Slipping out from behind his eyes, she murmered her thanks. Remembering that they still stood on the front steps, she nudged Harry aside, opened the door more widely, and said
"Please come in."
\Are you insane? Uncle Vernon will murder us!/
\\I doubt it. She isn't some child who makes weird stuff happen. She is a full-grown--and fully trained--witch. Besides, don't you want to see his face?//
\Yup. You're insane./
"What's taking you so long? Who was it?"
McGonagall stepped forward, eyeing the large muggle with distaste.
\I knew I liked her./
\\Shush! I'm trying to hear!//
This was utter nonsense, as Hope could hear Harry walking cat-footed while Dudley was snoring, but Harry shut up. He wasn't the one with the bat ears, after all.
"I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am here in response to your nephew and niece's letter. I shall escort them to London as is required of me as their future professor."
\Memorized./
\\Shush!//
Harry watched his relatives with interest. Uncle Vernon seemed to be on the brink of having a coronary, Aunt Petunia was doing a marvelous impression of a grounded fish, and Dudley was doing his best to hide behind his parents. Uncle Vernon was the fist to speak. Rapidly turning the color of an overripe eggplant, he roared, "NO."
Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together. "I beg your pardon?"
Aunt Petunia stepped in. "You're not taking them!"
McGonagall's lips were nearly invisible now. "I assure you, I most certainly am." Turning from the Dursleys, she faced the Potters and said to Hope, "Do you have a cane?"
Hope shook her head. The school she, Harry and Dudley attended was too small to have an Education for the Blind program, and her aunt and uncle had refused to buy her a cane. As Harry was perfectly willing to guide her when she needed it, and Number Four, Privet Drive never had a single thing out of place, and she rarely went out, she had no great need for one.
Slipping behind Harry's eyes, she saw that a small smile played across the professor's lips.
"I see," she said simply, reaching for her handbag. "You might find this of use, then." Out of the handbag came what looked like an unsharpened white pencil. She held it in her hand for a moment, contemplating it, then held it out in Hope's direction.
It was hard to coordinate her body while in Harry's head, but she managed it. Slipping back into her own body, she ran her fingers over it, marveling at the lightness and smoothness. There was a--a feeling about it, like the one she got from Professor McGonagall, and the letter, and the people who had come up to her and Harry and shaken their hands, but this was slightly different. It was almost sparkly, and it felt familiar, like the dreams that she had about four boys and a girl, the pirates and the lady.
Suddenly she realized that McGonagall had been speaking. \\What did she say?//
\It was made for you just after we were born. Mum charmed it herself./
"Charmed? Ho-- wait, my mum, she was a witch?" Harry looked at the professor.
"You truly do not know anything? About your world?" McGonagalls eyebrows went up, and she glared at the Dursleys.
Hope shook her head.
Professor sighed. "Yes, your mother--"
"Not another word," hissed Aunt Petunia. "You're not telling--them anything! I--I forbid you!"
"Wait--you knew? And you didn't tell us?"
"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was-a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"
She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.
"Then she met that Potter at school, and they left and got married and had you two, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as-as-abnormal-and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"
"Dursley! Contain yourself," Professor McGonagall snapped. "Your niece and nephew will be going to Hogwarts, and there is nothing you can do about it! Mr. Potter, Miss Potter, come." She swept out of the door, Harry and Hope following.
A/N Like? Love? Loathe? Review! (Yes corny, but how else am I going to know what you think?) Constructive criticism is appreciated, praise is delightedly devoured, flames are decidedly unappreciated--for pity's sake, people, if you don't like my fic, tell me why, don't netscream it in a dialect so peppered with cursing that it's hard to see the actual words. You review me, I will review your HP fanfics.
As to the chapter: (sighs contentedly) I always wanted McGonagall to give the Dursleys a dressing-down...
Petunia's rant was taken pretty much directly from the book.
Light of Hope: Part One
Chapter Three: Hogwarts Letters
It was all they did do until the following day. Hope's thought were in turmoil. By the time she was ready to go to sleep, she was positive that it was all some hoax, and that the Dursleys were laughing behind her back about how she had fallen for it.
She couldn't sleep; her brother couldn't either. They simply waited, unknowing and unprepared for what the future might bring.
The next morning was better. The Dursleys got what might very well have been the best breakfast of their lives as the twins attempted to keep their thoughts from a certain school in Scotland.
It worked--to an extent. Hope couldn't help but wonder how the magical school would contact them. The most obvious method was by mail or telephone, but who said that witches and wizards used telephones? They seemed to use owls for mail, anyway, and it was quite a ways to Scotland, so a message probably couldn't come for several days...unless there was a way to get the owls the their destination faster than the birds would usually fly; they were magical, after all.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Tell them we're not buying, boy," Vernon growled. He grumbled about the nerve of some people, calling without even bothering to ring first, using the decorative knocker instead of the new and perfectly good doorbell as Harry left.
Hope followed, hardly knowing why. Her heart was pounding so loudly, she was positive that a Dursley would hear and demand that she return to mind the bacon.
She stood beside Harry as he opened the door, slipping behind his eyes. A woman stood on the stoop, carrying a large orange handbag and wearing a long, dark green skirt, a dark blue blouse, black stockings, and a long tartan raincoat. Her black hair was pulled tightly back into a bun, and square spectacles perched on her nose. She appeared to be startled at their appearances, and she blinked several times before she spoke.
"Mr. and M--miss Potter?"
"Yes, ma'am," Harry answered. \What do you think?/
\\She's a witch.//
\That was fast/
"I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am here in response to your letter. As it seems you have no way to attain your school supplies, I shall take you to London as is required of me as your future professor."
She said this in a clipped, practiced manner. Hope wondered if she had practiced it before coming, had made this speech before, or if she just always spoke that way.
Harry was talking. "Er, yes... In our letter we asked about a scholarship... is there one? A scholarship? Well, two, I suppose..."
She fixed him with her square gaze. "There are scholarships available, and I have no doubt that both of you should qualify. However, there is no need for that. Your tuition was paid for shortly after the both of you were born. I believe that there is a trust fund set up for you--to be used for school supplies and other necessities until you come of age. I am to escort you both to get them, as well as discuss some... particulars with you."
Hope decided that Harry had suffered enough. Slipping out from behind his eyes, she murmered her thanks. Remembering that they still stood on the front steps, she nudged Harry aside, opened the door more widely, and said
"Please come in."
\Are you insane? Uncle Vernon will murder us!/
\\I doubt it. She isn't some child who makes weird stuff happen. She is a full-grown--and fully trained--witch. Besides, don't you want to see his face?//
\Yup. You're insane./
"What's taking you so long? Who was it?"
McGonagall stepped forward, eyeing the large muggle with distaste.
\I knew I liked her./
\\Shush! I'm trying to hear!//
This was utter nonsense, as Hope could hear Harry walking cat-footed while Dudley was snoring, but Harry shut up. He wasn't the one with the bat ears, after all.
"I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am here in response to your nephew and niece's letter. I shall escort them to London as is required of me as their future professor."
\Memorized./
\\Shush!//
Harry watched his relatives with interest. Uncle Vernon seemed to be on the brink of having a coronary, Aunt Petunia was doing a marvelous impression of a grounded fish, and Dudley was doing his best to hide behind his parents. Uncle Vernon was the fist to speak. Rapidly turning the color of an overripe eggplant, he roared, "NO."
Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together. "I beg your pardon?"
Aunt Petunia stepped in. "You're not taking them!"
McGonagall's lips were nearly invisible now. "I assure you, I most certainly am." Turning from the Dursleys, she faced the Potters and said to Hope, "Do you have a cane?"
Hope shook her head. The school she, Harry and Dudley attended was too small to have an Education for the Blind program, and her aunt and uncle had refused to buy her a cane. As Harry was perfectly willing to guide her when she needed it, and Number Four, Privet Drive never had a single thing out of place, and she rarely went out, she had no great need for one.
Slipping behind Harry's eyes, she saw that a small smile played across the professor's lips.
"I see," she said simply, reaching for her handbag. "You might find this of use, then." Out of the handbag came what looked like an unsharpened white pencil. She held it in her hand for a moment, contemplating it, then held it out in Hope's direction.
It was hard to coordinate her body while in Harry's head, but she managed it. Slipping back into her own body, she ran her fingers over it, marveling at the lightness and smoothness. There was a--a feeling about it, like the one she got from Professor McGonagall, and the letter, and the people who had come up to her and Harry and shaken their hands, but this was slightly different. It was almost sparkly, and it felt familiar, like the dreams that she had about four boys and a girl, the pirates and the lady.
Suddenly she realized that McGonagall had been speaking. \\What did she say?//
\It was made for you just after we were born. Mum charmed it herself./
"Charmed? Ho-- wait, my mum, she was a witch?" Harry looked at the professor.
"You truly do not know anything? About your world?" McGonagalls eyebrows went up, and she glared at the Dursleys.
Hope shook her head.
Professor sighed. "Yes, your mother--"
"Not another word," hissed Aunt Petunia. "You're not telling--them anything! I--I forbid you!"
"Wait--you knew? And you didn't tell us?"
"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was-a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"
She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.
"Then she met that Potter at school, and they left and got married and had you two, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as-as-abnormal-and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"
"Dursley! Contain yourself," Professor McGonagall snapped. "Your niece and nephew will be going to Hogwarts, and there is nothing you can do about it! Mr. Potter, Miss Potter, come." She swept out of the door, Harry and Hope following.
A/N Like? Love? Loathe? Review! (Yes corny, but how else am I going to know what you think?) Constructive criticism is appreciated, praise is delightedly devoured, flames are decidedly unappreciated--for pity's sake, people, if you don't like my fic, tell me why, don't netscream it in a dialect so peppered with cursing that it's hard to see the actual words. You review me, I will review your HP fanfics.
As to the chapter: (sighs contentedly) I always wanted McGonagall to give the Dursleys a dressing-down...
Petunia's rant was taken pretty much directly from the book.
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