After receiving her letter of admission to Hogwarts and staring at it for hours on end for two whole days, Tigerlily finally forced herself to rip the envelope open and read it.

    'Dear Ms. Creevey, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. A member of our faculty will be visiting you soon to provide further information and confirm your attendance by no later than 31 July. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall.'

    But she still couldn't wrap her head around it. She flipped the torn envelope over and smoothed the paper with her fingers to reread the words on emerald ink. It was her address. Her ridiculously accurate address. The longer she looked at it, the less convincing she needed of the fact that it was real. No one from school knew where she lived — because she made a point out of avoiding the mention of living on a farm in fear of being made fun of — and therefore would not know that her bedroom was, in fact, the one next to the oak tree.

    Tigerlily found herself looking over the supply list included with her letter several times a day after opening it.

    A cauldron (would a big pot suffice?), phials, a telescope, brass scales, many books about topics that would've looked made up to anyone she knew, cloaks and robes and garments made out of 'dragon hide', and most importantly, a wand.

    This last item troubled her quite a lot. Magic was a completely foreign concept to her, and those tricks she'd managed over the years through her outbursts had been performed without a wand, so did she truly need it? She reached the conclusion that if the school required her to have one, she might as well get it. But where from?

    One night, during dinner, she passed her dad the letter.

    His eyes widened, his brows furrowed, and his lips pursed several times while he scanned the sheets of parchment. When he finally looked up again, Tigerlily met his gaze with a cautious smile. Her father sighed and rubbed his jaw.

    "I'm sorry, dad," Tigerlily said quietly, "I know it all sounds mad, but if this school is real, I would love to go. But I need those supplies — I was hoping you might know where we could get them."

    "I'm afraid I don't, my love," he admitted, handing Tigerlily her letter back. "But I'm sure we can figure it out. Besides, someone's supposed to come and explain these things to us. Don't stress too much about it, alright?"

    Tigerlily sighed and nodded, folding the envelope carefully and stuffing it in one of her pockets.

❊

    The next day, Tigerlily was woken up by her father's soft voice and her brothers' not-so-soft jumping on her bed.

    "Lily! Get up, get up!" cried Dennis in between giggles. He'd started calling her 'Lily' after struggling to pronounce her whole name some years prior, and the nickname stuck, no matter how many times Tigerlily corrected him.

    "Come on, Tiger, get dressed." Her father insisted, squeezing her shoulder over the covers. "There's someone here to see you,"

    "See me?" Tigerlily mumbled, frowning. "What for? It's too early — ouch, Colin, that was my foot!"

    Colin and Dennis paid no mind to her complaints and kept jumping on her bed, stopping only when their father carried them out of the room.

    "Hurry up, bunny, he's been waiting for a bit," he called over his shoulder.

    Tigerlily rubbed her eyes and got dressed with whatever she could find lying on the floor. She walked out into the living room and found her father talking to a man with silver hair and a well-groomed mustache of the same color — ordinary and not too remarkable, really. Or so she thought initially.

    "Good morning," she greeted quietly upon entering, holding her hands behind her back nervously. The man stood up with a smile and took some steps towards her.

    Upon further inspection, Tigerlily realized the man had a prosthetic hand made out of metal — and legs, too, by the sound of it.

    "Good morning, Ms. Creevey," just as she wondered how he knew her name, she spotted a small pin on his shirt. It was the same crest that was stamped on her envelope. "My name's Silvanus Kettleburn. I teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm here to explain to you how our school works." He explained calmly, looking back at Stephen. "You have a lovely farm — do you mind showing me around while I tell you all about it?"

    Stephen nodded right away, leading Kettleburn and his daughter to the door. Suddenly, he wished he'd prepared for the visit by mowing the grass since it had grown too tall. Kettleburn didn't seem to mind, though, as he looked around happily. Colin and Dennis had followed the three of them outside and had taken to frolicking despite how early it was and the grumbling of their stomachs.

    Kettleburn began explaining to Tigerlily and her father everything — really, everything — about this magic school and stopped to answer each and every question that they had. He even apologized for not having shown up earlier, and explained that this year there were a lot more students with no magical background being admitted into Hogwarts, which left them short staffed when it came to delivering the letters.

    As she listened, Tigerlily had to fight a smile from breaking loose. It's very real. Dennis trailed behind her and would occasionally pick flowers along the way, while Colin looked around and admired the landscapes, despite having seen the hills from the very angle he was looking at them then plenty of times before. Stephen found himself in his usual silence, contemplating every word carefully, even when he didn't understand them fully. Because, really, what on Earth was Divination?

    Tigerlily would receive a few flowers from her youngest brother sporadically, and get tugs on her arm by the middle child to look at the trees in the distance. Her eyesight was not the best, so she could only see a big, green blur, but would nod and say a quick "That's beatiful, Colin," nonetheless, trying to keep her main focus on the information being provided by Kettleburn, who, as it turned out, imparted the subject of Care of Magical Creatures.

    After almost an hour of listening, the group stopped by the cattle corral. Kettleburn smiled.

    "I'm sure you'll do just fine on my subject when you get to it," he said, watching as Tigerlily stroked one of the calves.

    "Mr. Kettleburn," said Stephen slowly, "If I'm not mistaken, this means...there are other kids like her? No magical knowledge at all but still selected?"

    "Quite so," Kettleburn nodded, "In fact — I, myself, didn't have much knowledge about magic before attending Hogwarts. It's a wonderful opportunity, Mr. Creevey. I'd seriously consider it. She'd be in excellent hands."

    Stephen nodded in response and after exchanging a few more words, shook Kettleburn's metal hand, thanking him for his time. Tigerlily remained quiet for the most part and said her goodbyes, while Dennis offered the man a flower. He accepted it and put it in his shirt's pocket with a big smile. After that, he left the Creeveys — Tigerlily and Stephen, at least — to think their decision over and have breakfast, which Colin had already started whining about.

❊

    Tigerlily worried over her father's decision for a whole week, during which he was quieter than usual and spent most of his time outside, gardening by himself. It was very much unlike him, and that stressed Tigerlily greatly. She bit her nails day and night and tried to busy herself with teaching Marcus tricks and writing all her anxious thoughts on her journal, but nothing seemed to help.

    Until, at last, Stephen told her they were going to London. What for, he did not say, but he looked much more relaxed then he had a couple days prior. So Tigerlily got dressed — as nice as she could, since she'd never been to London — and dropped off her brothers with her grandfather before leaving to catch the train.

    The ride was quiet, but at least Stephen was back to talking about U2's newest album which was due in a few months. He explained the name of it to Tigerlily and she occasionally made comments of her own about her music taste, which was limited to whatever played on the radio.

    When they finally arrived in London, they were both in a better mood, although Tigerlily had grown jittery all of the sudden. She pulled at her clothes and squeezed her dad's hand tightly until he stopped outside a strange looking place. It wasn't abandoned, she found out when they walked in, but it had certainly fooled her. Suddenly, she realized where she was. Professor Kettleburn had mentioned this place on his visit: The Leaky Cauldron.

    And The Leaky Cauldron, Tigerlily thought, was a dirty place. So dirty, even the sign was unreadable unless you stood at a perfect angle just underneath it, but perhaps that was on purpose. Inside, it was gloomy and barely illuminated by candlelit lanterns scattered along the walls of the large dining room. There were stairs to the side and a bar almost hidden at the back. Almost instinctively, Tigerlily reached for her father's hand again, and she let him guide her along the dark pub.

    He stopped at the bar and cleared his throat awkwardly, getting the attention of the bartender, who was cleaning glasses with a rag. The man looked up and smiled.

    "Hello," he said, looking between the pair. He was balding and looked quite old, but he had a jovial way of speaking. "Welcome to The Leaky Cauldron — could I interest you in the house special?"

    "Uhm...no thank you," Stephen said, looking around, "I was told to look for Tom?"

    The man put down the glass and extended his arms, "At your service. How may I help you two today?"

    Stephen reached for his coat pocket and took out the Hogwarts letter of acceptance, handing it over. Tigerlily wanted to jump up and get it back. She'd heard her father talk to Kettleburn about coming here and what to do, but still felt anxious to death.

    "Ah!" Tom exclaimed excitedly, looking to Tigerlily with a smile that was missing plenty of teeth. This gesture eased some of her worries. "Come with me!"

    Tigerlily and her father looked at each other for a moment, the same look of confusion on their faces. They followed Tom towards the back of the bar, where he opened a door that lead to a tiny courtyard surrounded by brick walls.

    Tigerlily was the most confused she'd ever been. This had to be a joke right? Mr. Kettleburn (if that was even his real name) was probably in on it, too, and that's why he was so eager to send them to this sketchy pub. Tigerlily squeezed her father's hand to get his attention and ask him to leave —

    But then, without a warning, Tom pulled out a crooked twig from his inner coat pocket, tapped the brick wall in front of them with it and, just when Tigerlily thought it couldn't get any stranger, the bricks began to move, making a passageway for them, revealing a bustling street with several colorful storefronts.

    "Oh," Tigerlily gasped, her hand going limp inside of Stephen's. "Definitely not a joke,"

    The last thing she saw was Tom handing the letter back to her father before she passed out.