A Wizard's Progress

A Wizard's Progress

(by Melrakki)

Chapter One

MERLIN

Dean Thomas POV

My name is Dean - Dean Thomas. Who am I? Almost seventeen years old (my birthday is on December 9^th), rather tall, compared with the most guys of my age (just don't count Ron Weasley, he keeps up with me without problems), jet black hair, dark skin.

My parents are Vincent Thomas (43 y. o.), black-skinned, immigrant from Jamaica, and Liz Thomas (born O'Leery, 39 y. o.), British, but daughter of people who immigrated from Ireland. So we're a multi-cultured family. I'm the only child. We live in London, Brixton, like many Jamaican immigrants and workers. My parents aren't rich, but we manage life as well as possible.

My parents are Muggles.

Muggles...

Why do I talk about them as Muggles?

Because I'm a wizard.

Oh - no - that's not some sort of crazy imagination of a desperate son of proletarians, wanting to escape the world he's been born into. No, no.

But let's start from the very beginning:

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It was a couple of weeks after my eleventh birthday, when my life changed completely. The day my parents nearly died of shock. The day I lost - and found - my identity.

The day I received the letter from Hogwarts.

Hogwarts...

A letter...

Delivered not by a curiously looking postman - nosily trying to find out what kind of people my family was corresponding with.

A letter delivered by - an owl...

Owl... letter... Hogwarts...

Dear Mr Thomas

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

I thought it must be a joke - this couldn't be real! A letter inviting me to attend a school for witches and wizards, teaching spell-muttering and wand-waving. An enclosed list with books like Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration or A History of Magic or Standard Book of Spells, with acquired supplies like a pewter cauldron, dragon hide gloves or a wand - a magic wand!

But who could be pulling on me a prank like this?

My father seemed to be stunned. He is used to hard work. He achieved to afford a second hand car and a hired flat large enough to give me a room of my own. When I was nine, we even went to Cornwall for a one-week holiday; we stayed in a rather shabby private accommodation place, but that was okay with me - I was happy, happier than my whole life before. My father achieved all this by the daily hard work with his hands. He once used to work even on many Sundays, ten hours a day, to afford us a life without too big worries.

My mother started to cry. She was born into an Irish catholic family. She is very religious, goes to church every Sunday. Although my father isn't catholic, isn't religious at all, he gives my mother room for her inherited religion. I'm sure he knows my mother can cope with our often quite difficult life mostly because of her deep trust in God and His grace.

My father really loves my mother. He would never do such a thing like to forbid or deny her a life of trust and faith for her own mental welfare. I know he wouldn't, even though he privately thinks it's all imagination.

As I said, my mother cried when I received my letter. Me - a wizard! Going to a school for witchcraft and wizardry! This didn't fit at all into her world of "everything has been created by the eternal God" and "there is no real magic beyond the miracles worked in the name of Jesus Christ" and "a witch, no matter if male or female, is evil and possessed by Satan, and that kind of magic has to be nothing else but wiped out for the sake of Him, the Lord Almighty".

Not that you think my mother is fanatic and subordinates everything else under religion and church. My mother - my Mum - loves my Dad and me. I am one of the lucky young people with a mother and a father you can really call Mum and Dad, with all the love and trust and caring included in these words.

But my parents did have some problems with me being a wizard and starting to attend a wizard school.

I don't blame them for it. I'd really like to see other totally normal Muggle people not knowing about their children's magical skills, and suddenly being surprised by a letter from Hogwarts - delivered by an owl!

It was funny. Although I did not have the slightest clue about what might be waiting for me once I'd have entered the wizarding world, I made myself familiar with the thought of it in rather short time.

The same night, I found myself reading a dusty old book about young Arthur Pendragon and a wizard named Merlin. It was a book I once had gotten as a birthday present from my parents - they had bought it at a flea market. I wouldn't have blamed them if they hadn't given me anything, but within the depth of my soul I would have been hurt - watching all the others getting presents, new clothes, sweets, cinema tickets. It was around my sixth or seventh, and at that time my parents were poor. It became better during the following years though.

So I rumbled in my chest of drawers to get the book, and when I had found it, I devoured it within a few days. Although the book was full of characters, locations and situations, there was especially one person who became firmly imprinted in my mind: Merlin. That old and wise man and wizard - in my opinion the personification of wisdom and kindness, but also strength, both mentally and physically. There were no pictures in the book, but in my mind Merlin was a tall old man with white hair and a long white beard, wearing a foot-long cloak and a pointed hat.

As I have always been rather skilled in drawing, I sat down, took a piece of paper and a pencil, and started to draw the Merlin sweeping through my mind, as if to keep the picture safely imprinted. I drew the tall man, his white hair and beard - I took a lot of time to make sure the picture on the paper would correspond to my vivid and detailed imagination. When the pointed hat was safely placed on his head and Merlin was finished, I looked at him for a long time. Somehow - although this was certainly impossible - I had the impression he was moving slightly and winking, almost invisible to my eyes, but clearly visible to my heart... my longing heart.

And then he was there...

Then he stood in front of our door...

Merlin came to visit us.

Me.

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I answered the door.

"Mr Dean Thomas, I presume", were the first words Merlin spoke not to young Arthur, but to me.

I was only able to gape at him. Slowly I nodded, going scarlet in my face.

Merlin smiled.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore", he introduced himself, "and I am headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as you probably know if you have read your letter carefully."

I still gaped. He chuckled.

"We are still awaiting your owl, Mr Thomas", he went on, smiling fatherly. "As you are Muggle-born - like some others as well, by the way - I decided to come around and check if you only forgot the response owl, or if there were perhaps obstacles or other problems that had to be dealt with in order to make your Hogwarts start possible."

Gape.

"May I come in?"

I gulped. "Sorry", I muttered, stepping aside.

Merlin entered our modest home.

"What's going on, Dean?" Dad asked from the kitchen where he and Mum were having breakfast. "Who rang the bell? What are you murmuring out there?"

Merlin entered the kitchen.

He bowed when he went over the threshold - apparently to avoid his pointed hat to tumble off his head.

Once again, Dad was stunned. He wasn't able to say a word. He just stared at the tall old man standing in the kitchen and smiling at them.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry", the stranger introduced himself to my parents.

Once again, Mum started to cry. "They've come, Vince", she sobbed, "now they take away my baby."

"There, there, love", Dad comforted her, "we won't let them hurt our son or us." Then he looked at Merlin - I mean Dumbledore - again. "Would you mind to tell us about the favour you are asking of us, Sir?" he dared to ask.

Dumbledore chuckled again.

"Not at all, Mr Thomas", he began. "As I am sure you will have taken note of the letter written to your son, I thought it might be useful for me to come over here and talk to Dean's parents about the whole thing, because I have not yet received the response owl asked for in the letter mentioned before."

He smiled and took off his hat. Then he pointed at an empty chair. "May I sit down? It was a long journey here."

My Dad nodded - looking a bit anxious. Dumbledore sat down and sighed. Then he smiled again, before he went on.

"I can imagine this being completely new and unfamiliar to you, Mr and Mrs Thomas. I know that most of the Muggle society does not know much, if even anything, about witches and wizards in our time."

"Muggle - Muggle society?" Dad asked curiously.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you will not know the word", Dumbledore answered with an apologetic expression. "We - that is wizards and witches, also called the wizarding society - call non-magic folk Muggles. There is no discrimination meant, it's a completely neutral expression.

"Well, as I said, the Muggle society does not know much about wizardry. But it is a fact that there are constantly witches and wizards born all over the world. This happens usually within wizard families, but sometimes also in families like yours, you would certainly call them normal families. So, if there is a newborn child with magical abilities and his or her location of birth lies within Hogwarts School District, their name is noted by a magic quill. When now time comes the child finishes his or her eleventh year, they are invited by letter to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"That was the letter your son received a few months ago."

"So - so, you are telling us you expect our son to attend a school - a school for wizardry?"

"Yes."

Long silence. Mum had stopped sobbing and stared into Dad's eyes. Dumbledore watched them for a moment, and I had the impression that he was slightly amused. Apparently this was not his first encounter with people suddenly confronted with magic they had never thought to be possible.

My head was full of questions, I thought it'd explode any moment.

"Erm... Mr Merlin... oh, I'm sorry, I mean... Mr Dumbledore... Sir?"

They all stared at me. They seemed to have forgotten my presence completely.

"Can I... can I ask you something, Sir?" I dared to ask further.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Reading a lot, aren't you, young Arthur?" he asked back, winking.

I gulped, and my face went as red as a radish. But then Dumbledore smiled encouragingly, and I felt my heart lighten again.

"You can ask me anything", he said, taking my hands in his own.

I felt a surprising warmth coming from him, and suddenly I smiled back and forgot the awkwardness of the minutes before.

"That - erm... - that school - Hog... - what was its name again?"

"Hogwarts, dear boy."

"Yes, sure, Hogwarts. Well, that school - where is it? I've never heard about it so far."

"Oh, you come up with one of the most difficult questions. You must know, that the wizarding society keeps protecting itself from unexpected and maybe unpleasant encounters with Muggles. So the places limited to witches and wizards are not accessible for Muggles. In order to achieve this, we make these places unplottable. That means, they cannot be presented on any kind of map suitable for non magic people. In nature, these places are only properly visible to witches and wizards; Hogwarts for example appears also in front of Muggles' eyes, but they can only see a decayed ruin, not the marvellous castle that's Hogwarts in fact.

"But to answer your question a little bit: Hogwarts is in the northern part of Great Britain. You will go there by train, September 1^st, King's Cross Station, as you might have read on your letter."

My parents and I were completely puzzled.

Well, yes - in some way or other it made sense to me (maybe because I'm no real Muggle, but a wizard, which I didn't really realize yet, though). It reminded me to Avalon... And there I'm back to the old story I'd read in that dusty book from the flea market. Avalon, Arthur's refuge after the end of his life here on earth. The place of bliss without any sorrow or worry. A place only accessible for people belonging to a secret congregation.

But I would have to leave my parents, my friends, my familiar environment. It would all be new and unknown. And all the other witches and wizards - what kind of folk would they be? Would I get along with them, far away from home and without the protection I was used to, given from my parents?

In some way or the other, Dumbledore seemed to read my thoughts. He was looking at me, and I was feeling x-rayed by his gaze.

"Well, Mr Thomas - Dean -, you will meet hundreds of young people learning magic at Hogwarts, but remaining as normal as they have been before. Hogwarts does not mean that one has to change their personality or deny their origin and family. You can stay in touch with your parents by owl post. You can also keep contact with your old friends and schoolmates, as long as you do not tell them about wizardry. This is strict requirement stated by the International Warlock Convention, confirmed by United Kingdom All Wizarding Legislative Assembly, and I have to insist that you keep to it."

I nodded almost automatically, though not really knowing what I was agreeing with.

Dumbledore turned to my parents.

"If you give your son permission to attend Hogwarts School, you will receive a letter within one week. This kind of letter will be sent to all Muggle parents. It gives you any information you need concerning Dean's stay at Hogwarts. The letter will be enchanted. If there is still anything you want to know that's not in there, feel free to write your concern on its back. The answer will be given within a few minutes."

From the faces of my parents I reckoned they didn't understand a single syllable. I however was getting more and more familiar with all that wizarding stuff. It was as if I sort of woke up from a kind of slumber that had been hiding a part of my world from my eyes for my life up to that very day.

"What - what about all those books and stuff he'll need? Where are we supposed to obtain it all?" my Dad asked. He looked Dumbledore in the eyes and bit on his lips, before he went on. "We are not rich. I want our little boy to be happy, and if he wants to go to that school, we'll not be in his way. But we don't have much money, and I'm not sure if we can afford all the books, clothing, cauldron, whatever is on that list - I just flickered over it so far. And - and what about school? How much do we have to pay for him going there?"

Dumbledore sighed, but looked ever friendly. "I expected these questions. Now, as for the places to buy Dean's school supplies, you will have to visit Diagon Alley. It's in London, but no Muggle can find it. Therefore I am going to send you our gamekeeper, Mr Rubeus Hagrid, who will lead your son there and back again. You can go together with them, but in that case I have to ask you not to mention to anyone where you have been and what it has all been about.

"As for expenses, I fear I cannot spare you from paying for the supplies. But you won't have to buy only new things. There are lots of supplies such as some of the books or the clothes that can be obtained second hand. They are as good as new. Mr Hagrid will show you everything.

"Attending Hogwarts School is free for the students of the first three years. Elder students will have to pay for meals and accommodation, but this does not concern you now. You do not have to worry about anything.

"Now I think it is time for me to ask you, whether Dean will be allowed to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

There was silence. My parents looked at each other, then at me. My mother still sniffed quietly.

I looked at them. My gaze was pleading for their permission, though I still had no idea what would be awaiting me.

My mother stood up. She took her handkerchief out and blew her nose. Then she knelt down in front of me - I was a bit startled -, took my hands in hers and said very softly, smiling: "Dean, my little boy, do you want to go to that school? Do you want to learn magic? Do you think this would make you happy?"

I swallowed hard, but I'd made up my mind.

I nodded, smiling back.

Mum looked at Dad, and nodded.

"Well, son", Dad began solemnly, "if you desire to attend Hogwarts School, we won't be in your way."

My face lightened up. Dumbledore was beaming.

A bit quieter, and with a broad grin, my father went on: "I wish you all the best, and have fun beyond all fun your Mum and I could offer you so far."

I single tear crept down his cheek. He embraced me, and he whispered in my ear: "Mum and I love you, dear. Don't forget, okay?"

I wanted to thank them both, but a large lump was sitting in my throat. I cleared it, but all I could manage out was: "But - but my supplies, all that stuff - will you..."

"Don't you worry, son", said Dad, waving my worries aside, "we'll manage."

He shot a glance at Mum, and she smiled and then nodded - they seemed to be discussing something without saying a word. Dad turned to me again.

"You know, I - I saved a bit of money on an account I never told you about. Your Mum and I actually wanted to have some for maybe harder times than now."

I started to protest. I didn't want my parents spend all their humble savings on me. But Mum and Dad stopped my attempt to make them keep it.

"We didn't need it so far", said Mum. "We can always start to save again. But at the moment it's you who is in the need of money to afford things you need. This is settled."

I swallowed down the lump and nodded. Then, suddenly, a thought hit me, and I turned to Dumbledore.

"Erm... Mr Dumbledore?"

He smiled. "You want to ask something?"

"Yes. Erm... it's just... erm... will there - will there be football at Hogwarts?"

Now it was Dumbledore's turn to gape. I however encouraged myself to continue. It was important after all.

"Well, I'm a big football fan. West Ham United. Watched them sometimes. Great sport, football. Now - are there football teams at school as well?"

Dumbledore broke into a broad smile. "Not football, dear boy, I'm afraid to say that." My face dropped, but Dumbledore smiled even more. "We have got Quidditch. Wizards' sport. Everyone goes for Quidditch. Just wait. But I won't say more at the moment - it will be a great surprise. And if you are so obsessed with team sports - who knows about the future? One day maybe you will be a great chaser, or beater, keeper, perhaps even a seeker." He patted my shoulder. "I can promise you that you will not be disappointed at all."

I smiled back. I hadn't understood a word of his, but somehow I had started to trust that old man - my own Merlin...

This was going to be my life - still remembering my origin, and loving my parents - but finding my own way to future.

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