Percy had learned two useful things at the orphanage. Water would answer him without a wand. Ms. Hartford would find him if he missed dinner.
The second ability was more reliable.
He practiced the first in his room, with a cup on the floor and a towel under it. He could lift a small amount of water. He could hold it still. Sometimes he could put it back in the cup.
The towel was important.
On his eleventh birthday, he heard a knock while he was drying the floor. He stopped at once. Visitors rarely came that late.
Ms. Hartford opened the front door. Percy left his room and stopped where the stairs turned. From there, he could hear without being seen.
"Good evening. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. I am here to speak with Perseus Jackson."
There it was. His name, in the voice of a woman who would expect him to finish his homework.
"What is this about?" Ms. Hartford asked.
"A place at our school."
"We have received no application."
"I know. There are some things I must explain."
Percy came down the remaining steps before Ms. Hartford could call him.
"I am here."
The woman at the door wore green robes. She looked from his damp sleeve to his face.
Percy put his hands behind his back. That improved nothing.
"Mr. Jackson?"
"Yes."
She held out an envelope. Red wax covered the seal. The Hogwarts crest was clear enough that he did not need to open it.
He opened it anyway.
For years, Hogwarts had existed in the books John had made him read. Now someone from the school stood in his hall.
He read the letter twice. He checked his name on the envelope after that.
McGonagall waited. Ms. Hartford did not.
"Percy, what does it say?"
"It says I can go."
"That is not an answer."
Percy looked at McGonagall. "You will like her."
The professor raised one eyebrow.
He decided to stop helping.
They moved to the study. McGonagall explained the school, the term dates, and the supplies Percy would need. Ms. Hartford asked who would pay.
"There is a school fund for students who need assistance," McGonagall said.
That answer did more than the crest to convince Percy that the letter was real. An imaginary school would probably have made him rich.
Ms. Hartford still wanted proof. McGonagall took out her wand and changed the study lamp into a bird.
The bird hopped across the desk. It examined Ms. Hartford's pencil, then tried to take it.
McGonagall changed it back before it succeeded.
Ms. Hartford looked at the lamp for a long time.
"Will he be safe?"
Percy looked down at the letter. He knew several answers to that question. He liked none of them.
"He will be taught to use his abilities," McGonagall said. "And there will be adults responsible for him."
Ms. Hartford asked more questions. Percy listened this time. He had waited years for this letter, but she had cared for him during those years.
He could give her ten minutes.
When they finished, McGonagall offered to take him to buy his supplies. Percy went upstairs for his old backpack.
He put his money inside, then checked that the small cupboard was closed. The towel remained on the floor.
He would deal with it later. Apparently, becoming a wizard did not remove the need to clean his room.
At the front door, Ms. Hartford straightened his collar.
"Stay with the professor."
"I will."
"And ask before you touch anything."
Percy glanced at McGonagall.
"Is that going to be difficult?"
"Only if you make it difficult, Mr. Jackson."
He took that as a warning.
The Leaky Cauldron was easy to miss from the street. Inside, Percy nearly stopped in the doorway.
Robes, owls, and mugs of Butterbeer filled the room. A large toad sat on the counter. Nobody seemed concerned about it.
A bald man greeted McGonagall.
"New student, Professor?"
"Yes, Tom. Mr. Jackson."
"First visit?"
Percy nodded.
Tom smiled. "Enjoy it."
McGonagall led Percy through the pub to a small yard. She tapped the brick wall with her wand.
The bricks moved apart.
Percy stepped back. He had known what would happen, but knowledge did not make moving bricks less strange.
Beyond the wall, people crowded a narrow street. Shops displayed cauldrons, broomsticks, and jars that Percy preferred to examine from a distance.
An owl turned its head as he passed. Another called from a cage above it.
"Stay close," McGonagall said.
He obeyed. Ms. Hartford would have been pleased.
They went to Gringotts first. McGonagall explained the school allowance while a goblin counted the coins.
Percy checked the names again. Galleons, Sickles, Knuts. He could remember battles from another life, but three types of coins required effort.
"Keep the purse inside your coat," McGonagall told him.
He did. He also decided to stop looking impressed by every box in the bank.
At Madam Malkin's, a pale boy stood on a stool while a woman fitted his robes. He studied Percy's clothes.
"Muggle-born?" the boy asked.
Percy knew the face before he knew how to answer. Draco Malfoy looked younger than the person Percy remembered from the books.
"Not exactly."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I need school robes."
The woman fitting Percy told him to hold still. He had moved his shoulder to face Malfoy, and she had noticed.
Malfoy gave him a poor first impression. Percy reminded himself that first impressions were not instructions for the next seven years.
Then Malfoy sneered at the robes he had been given.
Percy decided that improvement was possible, but would require work.
They bought books next. Percy checked each title against the list. He could read without the old struggle now, and he still enjoyed that fact.
He opened The Standard Book of Spells while McGonagall paid.
"Mr. Jackson."
He looked up.
"Walk first. Read when we stop."
He closed the book. It was a fair rule for a street with moving displays and people carrying animals.
The apothecary smelled of herbs and something much worse. Percy collected his ingredients without asking what the worst smell was.
He suspected the answer would stay with him.
Ollivanders was quieter. Boxes covered the walls, and the old man behind the counter seemed to know exactly where each one belonged.
He studied Percy before fetching a wand.
"Let us begin."
The first wand produced sparks. The second knocked a box off a shelf. Ollivander removed both from Percy's hand before he could apologize.
The third did nothing.
Percy looked at McGonagall. "Is nothing an improvement?"
"Let Mr. Ollivander work."
More wands followed. Percy began to worry about the cost of the damaged box.
At last, Ollivander brought out a wand of polished cypress.
"Twelve inches. Hippocampus hair. An unusual core."
Percy took it.
Warmth passed through his fingers. A cool movement of air touched his sleeve, and the tip gave a small, steady light.
This time, Ollivander did not take it back.
Percy turned it once in his hand. He had held weapons that felt familiar before. This felt different. It was something he had come here to learn.
"The wand chooses the wizard," Ollivander said.
Percy looked at the shelves. "I am glad one of them made a decision."
McGonagall cleared her throat.
He paid.
Outside, his backpack was heavier and his purse was lighter. He kept checking the wand box to make sure it was still there.
"What comes next?" he asked.
"Preparation," McGonagall said. "You have the list. You will also have instructions for reaching the train."
"And after that?"
"Lessons."
Percy considered complaining about school. Then he remembered the water on his bedroom floor.
Lessons could help.
He followed her back toward the Leaky Cauldron, holding the wand box against his coat. He had something to look forward to. It did not require a fight.