Author's note: I'm changing one thing from the original story. This will take place in 2011, not in 1992. What I like about Potterverse is the setting, so therefore I will try to avoid direct interaction with the main story and instead focus on other issues. I lack the inspiration and skill to write more than one original character, so out of lack of choice, interaction between Anne will be with other canon characters. But again, the original story is unlikely to change as it is the setting that inspires me.

I try to convince myself that I write this for personal enjoyment and improvement of my writing skill.

That's all... for now.

School was over. Summer break was starting. Anne had little to do in life, as always. Anne had woken up moments ago, and was by now trying to recollect her dream of about eating lunch on top of some sort of roller coaster, where said lunch consisted of rice and peas inside an aluminium box. A man with snakes... and an alligator inside his sleeves had been trying to give her instructions on how to fix the electrical settings of said rollercoaster. She had forgotten most of the stuff after that, but the dream ended with her being inside of one of the most cozy rooms she had ever seen, a small corridor with red seats on the side and the room having lanterns on its walls, dimly lighting said room. It was actually the inside of a bus, and she would be going somewhere far away, but she couldn't remember the destination.

Dreams were great sources of inspiration, although what she would use said inspiration for, she didn't know. One of Anne's hobbies were to write down whatever interesting she remembered from her dreams so that she could recollect the moment later.

"Cozy bus with lanterns inside." she wrote on one of her notepads. Trying to completely describe the whole thing felt impossible, and useless as a few words worked to trigger her memories of it anyway. It wasn't like she was going to tell anyone about it. If she could draw or paint, she would do so instead. Alas, her drawing skills were poor, she didn't like stuff that required practice, and she didn't even have something to paint with or on in her house. She figured if she ever did learn, which was unlikely given her attitude towards it, she wouldn't mind becoming a painter. Or concept artist.

She went down her stairs, ate some nondescript breakfast in the kitchen, then almost forgot to check if she had recieved any mail. As it turns out, she had. Anne was lazily eying the sealed letter in her hand whose the insignia was bearing a large 'H' inside of it. It had a rather descriptive description of where her room was located. It had no postage stamp. She was mildly curious about it and decided to open it up on the spot, which was unusual as she usually opened all of her mail only when required to do so.

Inside was a fairly wierd letter, being an invitation to a school where magic was taught, signed by someone named Minerva McGonagall.

"They teach people to become illusionists?" She thought to herself. "Didn't know there were any such schools." She held respect for them having a school that taught the subject (even if she wasn't interested in learning it), while also losing said respect in that they didn't refer to themselves as illusionists. She had heard that proffesionals used that term instead and scoffed at people who still called it 'magic'.

When she later read the course material, she changed her opinion.

"Ah." she said to herself. "Real magic. Might be interesting. Especially if it's free." Whether it was true or false, she didn't care. As always. If she had nothing suggesting that statement A was either true or false, she considered statement A to be both true or false until something suggesting otherwise was provided or observed. In short, she thought nothing of it and didn't give a damn whether it actually was true or not. It was time to do other stuff.

Minerva was staring at the front door of a house. Specifically, a muggle house. More specifically, a muggle house owned by a family called Valerian. The school had somewhat recently enacted a new policy on that every new muggleborn student that might be attending Hogwarts would have one of their Professors visit them. Minerva had rung the doorell, and a few moments later the door was opened by a young girl.

"Hello. Can I help you?" the girl asked curiously.

Judging from her height, Minerva guessed it was the person she was looking for.

"I believe so. You wouldn't be miss Anne Valerian, would you?"

"That would be correct." Anne answered.

"My name is Professor McGonagall. I work as Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but certainly you already know about that, don't you?"

"Correct. I do know of Hogwarts. I got a letter about it."

Minerva expected Anne to continue, but she wasn't saying a word, so she eventually took initiative.

"May I come in?"

"Err, maybe. It depends whether on Hogwarts is real or not. Should it not be real, then I'm looking straight at the person who is most likely the mastermind of either a big prank or some kind of scam."

Minerva was suprised at the thought the young girl had given towards this, and started thinking of ways she could show the girl some magic without alerting the muggle neighbourhood. Anne, noticing the 'concerned' (for the lack of a better word) look on the old witch, interrupted her line of thought.

"I kid. Do come in."

They sat down at the dinner table.

"I suppose you already know of why I'm here?" Minerva asked.

"I have no idea at all actually. The letter only mentioned something about an owl reply, and I have no idea of what such a thing is." Anne replied.

"Well, since your parents are not magical, we at Hogwarts decide to take every muggleborn witch or wizard to a trip to Diagon Alley, where they can purchase the material required for attendance at Hogwarts. Speaking of which, where are your parents?"

"Elsewhere. Not exactly sure where at the moment. I like being to myself so I don't really mind where they go. What are muggles?"

"Non-magical people." Minerva simply replied.

"No further definition?"

"Not really, no. Wizards rarely interact with muggles, we try to keep ourselves secret. Otherwise, you would already know all about this, wouldn't you?"

"Or your school does not exist. Why keep yourselves secret?" Anne knew that her statement and question were inconsistent of eachother. She didn't mind.

"A variety of reasons, but the easiest example would be the old witch hunts. People are simply envious or afraid of others that have skills which they cannot achieve." Minerva replied.

Anne simply looked at her with a slightly bored look. The answer was quite obvious and she didn't have to give it much thought.

"Anyway, you wished for me to demonstrate magic?" McGonagall asked with a voice that was ever the slightly tinted with excitement.

"Yes, that would be appreciated." Anne wasn't looking as bored as now. She was conscious of it, but not in words, that McGonagall's tone had given the situation much more truth.

Minerva withdrew what looked like a nice looking stick from her robes and gave the table they were sitting by a light tap. It prompty turned into a bronze statue depicting an muscular man holding a globe.

Anne had actually already been convinced earlier in her mind earlier that she was not being lied to, but seeing it with her own eyes was something else. Sure, she knew she was the type to almost trust any theory given some arguments, whether they be true or not, to the point that people could call her naive. But trust was different from belief and for Anne this was plenty of evidence.

"Huh, magic." Anne said. Minerva noticed that while still just as calm, it was also a bit different. Somehow, it was like as if the girl was already a witch. Or atleast not muggleborn.

Minerva gave the statue another tap and it returned to its original physicalities. Anne's voice was quick to contact her.

"And Hogwarts teaches this transformation? How does the procedure work?"

"Yes, taking Transfiguration is a must at Hogwarts. As for how magic exactly works, you're looking at a very big question in the wizard world that is difficult to answer. Yes, we have some laws of what can and cannot be done, but exactly why is often unknown. If we knew exactly how it worked, it would not be called 'magic'." Minerva smiled a bit to herself.

Minerva paused, waiting for more questions, but the girl expected her to continue (Anne had no other questions at this point), so she did.

"Still, you must have experienced some kind of magic happening around you? It's unheard of that a magical child would not produce accidental magic. For example, you got angry by a schoolyard bully and their hair turned turqoise."

"I don't really remember that specific event ever occuring, but you wouldn't be referring to when it feels like I've teleported to another part of the house since I can't remember walking between two points?"

Minerva laughed a bit on the inside. "Well, I doubt you've apparated at such a young age. Accidental magic usually happens due to large bursts of emotion, like being angry or feeling threatened. You've never had wierd events happen around you?" Minerva asked with an innocent curiosity.

"Eh, probably. Maybe there was this one time when... something happened? Or was it more than one time? I can't really rememer."

"You can't remember it?" Minerva worried, had her memories been obliviated?

"My family playfully teases me about how bad my memory is. I don't mind at all. Forgetting boring stuff is good."

Minerva eventually relaxed. The girl had after all told her that she couldn't remember walking between two places. It wouldn't be too unusual if she just had bad memory.

"So, when is this trip you're taking me on?" Anne asked.

"This Saturday. I'll be here at 12 o' clock, so be prepared."

"Don't worry, I will be."

Well, that was interesting. Anne had been quite eager to find out that magic existed when she got a letter about it, but was quickly disheartened when she quickly realized she didn't know where to get any of the stuff she needed. She still didn't know where the school was located.

"Eh, she'll tell me later." Anne said to herself.

Anne had a habit of talking to herself sometimes. She had also already forgotten the name of the person she just spoke to. She could read the letter again when she needed to remember it. People usually assumed that she had bad memory. Anne didn't agree. She remembered everything that she wanted to remember. Selective memory indeed.

"Minerva said that magic is not something that cannot be, or atleast hasn't been yet, properly explained. It is not fueled by logic. It had tendencies to occur when you were angry, but by the way she said it, this is not the only time. Is emotion the drive behind it then? No, not possible. Minerva's face didn't move at all when she made that atlas. Although she had what I guess would be a wand, the letter said something about one. Although if magic can happen without one, then I have to assume that one is not needed."

Anne was starting to get hungry, and she was in the kitchen already, but she was more curious and hungry. She loved to experiment, as long as it was trial and error and not writing down a bunch of stuff and then making a theory. So, what she did was focus on one of the drawers containing eating utensils, forks and all. She focused her eyes upon it. She had tried this some other times, the exact same situation, trying to pull out the drawers with her mind. Although those times, she had just been lazy and not wanting to bend down her body to manually do so, and when she did she didn't completely believe anything would happen. It was just a moment of "You know, it would be awesome if this worked, although I know it won't.". This was different she knew magic was atleast somewhat real, she didn't really know the limits of it, but that was OK, her once again easily convinced mind that would sometimes believe anything just said that this could work 100%.

She wished it to open itself. To her minor amazement, it did not.

"Meeeh, how annoying. I was expecting this shit to work." She didn't mean the word, she just couldn't think of anything better. She longed for instant gratification where she could turn the table into a giant atlas by touching it with a piece of wood. Or without a piece of wood. Then, to her minor amazement, the table cracked and fell apart in the middle, loudly smacking the floor with a sound that Anne was sure could have been heard from the outside.

Anne was unfazed by the sound. "Damn, this magic thing is going to be problematic."

She did not realize that the table did not fall apart due to her thinking of it becoming an atlas, but that it fell apart due to her being angry due to not being able to change the table into an atlas. She was insane, not a genius.