Magic

Henry took her hand and Gerald’s and they disappeared from the dimly lit street in a whirl of colour. Jane’s head was whirling and she felt nauseous. The “Ministry” was a very big and complex building and like nothing Jane had ever seen or could imagine. Somewhere on the wall, Jane thought there was a plaque with a big M that read “Ministry of Magic”.

“You don’t look so good,” Henry said. “Don’t aperate much, do you?”

Jane struggled to compose herself. “Nnnn..No.”

The large hallways were mostly empty since it was early in the morning. As Jane looked around, she noticed a sign that said “Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services.”

“Well, come on.” Henry had Gerald walk in front of him and motioned for Jane to follow.

Jane wondered what she had gotten herself into and suddenly started thinking that she had stumbled upon some big secret. What if Henry had brought her here only to hand over to the Magical Law Enforcement officers or whatever? She would find out soon enough, she supposed.

There was a large photograph on one of the walls of an imposing man wearing a brimless, flat, round hat, with the caption “Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic” underneath. Jane thought she saw the photo move! She rushed to keep up with Henry and Gerald.

The trio entered a room with many wanted posters, newspaper clippings and maps lining the walls. One or two purple paper aeroplanes were lying about. There was a poster with Gerald’s face and full name on it. “WANTED, Gerald Gregorovitch,” it read. “Gerald Gregorovitch is suspected of Muggle kidnap, murder and breaking of wizarding law. Approach with extreme caution. If you have any information concerning this person, please contact your nearest Auror Office.” The word “Reward” was written below that and more fine print that Jane started reading as Henry snapped her out of her trance. While Jane had been taking in the office, Henry had put Gerald Gregorovitch in a sort of containment cell at the back.

“Yeah, he’s a pretty bad one, old Gerald. That’s why I wanted to get him here right away. Shacklebolt will be glad he’s behind bars. Now we’ve just got to keep him here until he can be transported to Azkaban.”

“You can’t keep me here!” Gerald suddenly shouted.

Jane got a fright but Henry assured her, “Oh, don’t worry, the cell’s got a Containment Charm on it. He’s not going anywhere.”

Jane had so many questions, but she didn’t dare ask, for fear of being caught out, let in on some big secret she wasn’t supposed to know. Only, Jane wasn’t exactly sure what the secret was, yet, or that all of this was real and not some delusion she was having.

“About that reward,” Henry started.

He fumbled at one of the doors in the front of the room. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Gerald glared menacingly at Jane from the cell, but he genuinely seemed confined by the charm Henry had put on the cell. Whenever he bashed against the bars, he would be flung back towards the middle of the room.

“Filthy mudblood, aren’t you?” Gerald shouted.

Jane kept quiet but secretly wondered if he knew how bewildered and clueless she felt.

“I can smell it a mile away!” the captive shouted again.

Henry came out of the door at that moment, holding a small pouch.

“500 galleons. Half the reward money as promised. Will you find your own way home? I’ve got to keep old Gerald company.” With this, he handed the pouch to Jane.

There were strange golden coins inside with what seemed to be a dragon-bat and the words “Unum Galleon” on one side and a bearded man with a long hat on the other, with the words “Gringotts Bank”.

Jane didn’t dare say that she had no idea how to get out of the Ministry, let alone find her way home.

“Um, yeah, I think so,” she managed.

“It really was nice to meet you, Jane Smith,” Henry extended a hand to greet her.

“You too.” She shook his hand and made her way to the door.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Jane replied.

Once in the hallway, Jane had no idea which way to go. Everywhere she turned looked the same, so she set off in a direction, but it didn’t bring her anywhere she recognised, so she turned around. After a while, she found stairs to a lower level. She was starting to feel utterly overwhelmed and exhausted. This strange experience was starting to catch up to her. She still wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t all some peculiar dream.

“Wake up, Jane,” she kept telling herself, but every time she opened her eyes, she was still standing at the bottom of a staircase.

She had to sit down, make some sense of this. What did she know so far? Well, Gerald Gregorovitch had broken wizarding law and had a magic wand. Henry Timms also had a wand and was a sort of policeman. They had travelled by some kind of teleportation and they were inside the Ministry of Magic. So that must mean, however impossible it may seem to Jane, that Gerald and Henry were, well, wizards.

Jane woke up with the sound of footsteps headed her way. Light poured into the room from glass doors somewhere. The man from the photo she had seen in the hallway was approaching her. Jane felt like running but her body was frozen with fear. He would know! Whatshisname, Minister of Magic, would surely know that she didn’t belong here. What if he turned her into a frog or something for discovering the secret society of wizards? Jane’s mind felt like mush.

“Jane Smith, I presume,” the man smiled at her.

Jane couldn’t find any words and Whatshisname must have seen her terror because he smiled even bigger before assuring her.

“Don’t worry. There’s nothing to fear. I’m Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic. Although, I hardly expect you have any idea what that means at this point.”

Jane just stared back.

“Would you be so kind as to join me for breakfast?” Shacklebolt asked.

Jane’s tummy grumbled.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Shacklebolt beamed. “Follow me, Miss Smith.”

Since Jane had no idea what else to do, she dutifully followed Shacklebolt to his office.

A magnificent breakfast was awaiting them and Shacklebolt spoke as he ate.

“Before yesterday, did you ever feel like something was missing from your life, Miss Smith? Like there was something just out of reach, but you didn’t know what?” Shacklebolt asked.

“Yes, of course,” Jane said, now finding her voice. “But doesn’t everyone feel like that?” she added.

“Actually, no. Not everyone does,” the Minister of Magic replied. “There’s specific reason that you, Jane Smith, feel that way. When you held that wand last night, how did it feel?”

“How do you know about last night?” Jane asked, shocked.

“Never mind that. How did it feel?” he repeated again.

“Well, it warmed up in my hands and shot out some kind of spark.”

“No, I mean, how did YOU feel?”

“I guess, exhilarated, sir.”

“Exactly. Now let me tell you something, Henry didn’t think you were a muggle because you had used magic - the ‘sparks’ you caused to come from the wand - and he was right.”

“What exactly is a ‘Muggle’?”

“Someone who doesn’t have any magical abilities and doesn’t know about our world. And if you were a muggle, you couldn’t possibly have caused Gregorovitch’s wand to incinerate that bush.”

This was all a bit much for Jane to take in.

“So you’re saying I’m a wizard?” she asked incredulously.

“Well, technically, a witch, but yes. You have magical abilities.”

Jane would’ve fainted if she hadn’t just had breakfast. She was a WHAT?

“I realize you must have lots of questions. And they will all be answered in time. For now, we have to decide how to go forward.”

“Forward?”

“Well, we’ll have to get you trained up. It’s not often that we get witches or wizards of your age who haven’t been to magic school.”

“How do you usually go to magic school?” Jane asked.

“You’re invited. I can’t understand how you wouldn’t have been. Unless you WERE but never got your acceptance letter.”

“But I’ve never even thought of magic before. None of my family have any magical ‘abilities’ either.”

“Yes, you are what we call a muggle-born witch. Somewhere along the line, you must have wizard ancestry.”

“But...” Jane was sure that there had been some sort of mistake. She was the most ordinary person she could think of.

“Well, let’s get you a wand, shall we? And then the matter will decide itself.” Shacklebolt seemed quite convinced that she would be able to produce magic if she had a wand. Jane was convinced of the opposite.

A short trip later, they were inside a shop with a sign across the door that read “Olivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.” The tiny shop was filled from bottom to top with boxes, presumably containing wands. There was barely space to walk between the stacks of boxes. A very old man behind the counter recognised Shacklebolt.

“Ah, Minister Shacklebolt! How may I help you today?” the old man asked.

“This lady needs a wand, Mr Olivander,” Shacklebolt replied.

Olivander peered over the counter at Jane and she found it creepy.

“Well, this IS a rare occasion. Your first wand at such an old age? Xox are we?” Olivander peered curiously in Jane’s direction. She tried to shrink away from his gaze.

“Indeed,” Shacklebolt replied.

“Well, let’s see…” Olivander disappeared behind a stack of boxes. After shuffling about his shop and pulling out boxes from a few stacks, he came back to the counter. He piled the boxes of wands on the counter and opened one.

“Try this one,” Olivander said.

“What?” asked Jane. How would she ‘try’ a wand?

“Give us a wave,” Olivander replied.

Jane waved the wand and to her great surprise something happened! Sparks of fire shot from the wand and lit one of the boxes on the counter on fire. Jane was astonished! Before she could properly grasp the fact that she had just done some ‘magic’ intentionally, Olivander had grabbed the wand from her.

“Hmm…” he sighed. “Perhaps something more like this…”

Jane had to try out a few wands before Olivander was satisfied that she had found a suitable one.

Shacklebolt paid for it and they returned to the Ministry.