Mahou Amberstone sat atop a branch in her favourite willow tree that overlooked a stunning sapphire lake dotted with sunlight. Her head was leaning against the slim upper trunk of the tree, and her red-brown hair was cut short, fluffing lazily in the summer breeze. Her vivid, lime-green eyes were closed against the bright sun, her pointed ears slouching.

Mahou Amberstone was an elf; one of the few left that allowed themselves to be seen. In all actuality, the young girl was only half-Irish Wood Elf; her mother being a human as well as a witch. She had visited Ireland, her mother, and had met Mahou's father there. They had lived in Ireland for most of Mahou's life, about 9 years, but decided to live in England, her mother going on and on about some place called Hogwarts. Whatever that was.

It was now May 26th Mahou's 14th birthday, and the young elf was pondering what to do. She missed her old school in Ireland, where she learned witchcraft and wizardry, called Cerridwyn's School for Gifted Girls. She had been there for 2 years, until her mother decided to move to England again and have Mahou go to Hogwarts next term, which she was guessing was the equivalent of Cerridwyn's.

Mahou had already danced with the Faeries, ridden a unicorn, chatted with the dryad of the willow and the nymphs of the lake. There wasn't much else the child could do. So, she hopped off her branch and landed lightly on her feet upon the ground... after jumping nearly 10 feet. Sighing, Mahou looked in her pocket: not nearly enough for the Firebolt she had been ogling in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley about a month ago. She already had a Nimbus Two Thousand, since she was an avid Quidditch fan, and she so wanted the Firebolt.

Anyway, Mahou took her usual trek back to the house to find her mother, beaming brighter than the sunlight, holding a thick envelope of parchment paper with green lettering. "Wha's tha', ma?" Mahou asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "Looks like a letter o' some sort." The child's Irish accent shone as she spoke, folding her hands upon the tabletop.

"This, my dear sweet Angelears," her mother cooed, presenting the envelope with evident pride, "is your acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And, as a present, your father and I bought you a pet." She bustled over to a box in the corner and lifted a small ball of orange fluff. She walked back, muttering about being lucky since it was her third year now. The ball unrolled itself and showed itself to be a baby red fox.

"You can name him, Angelears, because she'll be your companion at Hogwarts!" her mother cried gleefully. She plopped the furry animal onto Mahou's lap, sitting across from her with an expression of anticipation.

"I guess this be th' school ye went ta, righ'?" Mahou asked. She opened the envelope and read the letter as well as the list of books she would need. "I guess I willna be buyin' me th' Firebolt anytime soon," she muttered with a sigh. She thought she'd be considered a First Year there and thus.. no broomstick.

"I'm sure I could write a note and ask Headmaster Dumbledore about it," her mother suggested, catching the thought. "I mean, you may or may not be considered a First Year. You might excel into Third Year. I'm sure you could bring your Nimbus." She smiled reassuringly.

"But tha's jus' it, ma!" Mahou cried, tossing the letter onto the table with a flick of her wrist. "I wanted ta bring a Firebolt! Ye've been goin' on abou' th' school fer ages. I wanted ta be liked. An' I wanted ta be on th' Quidditch team. I no' be sure if they would let a new kid be on th' team, regardless o' me years!" Her pointed ears fell. "An' now I may no' be able to bring me Nimbus, buy a Firebolt, or be on a Quidditch team!" She got to her feet, depositing the fox on the floor with a soft furry plop. "I donnae want ta go ta Hogwarts, ma! Ye cannae make me!" She raced out of the kitchen and up to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Just then, Mahou's father, Weatherlite Amberstone, walked into the house, his arms laden with packages, a list clamped in his teeth. He set the parcels down, laying the scratched-on list atop them, and took of his hat that hid his pointed ears. "M'dear Paula, wha' happened?" he asked. His own Irish accent was thicker than Mahou's, but full of concern.

"She doesn't want to go to Hogwarts, Weatherlite," Paula replied, sitting back down at the table. "She wants to buy a Firebolt, be on the Quidditch team, of bring her Nimbus if she didn't get the Firebolt. But the rules of Hogwarts say that no First Years can have broomsticks. We don't know if she would be treated as a First or Third year because of her time at Cerridwyn's." She sighed.

Weatherlite stood behind his wife and smiled. "Donnae worry, Lark, for I bought our dear Angelears a Firebolt," he proclaimed.

Meanwhile, Mahou was in her room, thinking about Hogwarts. "Ma does seem like she really wants me ta go," she mused to herself, the fox pup lying on her bed. "I guess I should go, eh, fox?" The pup's ears perked and she yipped once. "I think I'll call ye Blackfoot. Ye like tha'?" she asked. The pup barked and stood in reply. "I guess so. Ye'll be comin' ta Hogwarts wi' me, then, Blackfoot. Ma wants me ta go so badly." Standing, she walked out of the room with the pup close at her heels.

In the kitchen, Weatherlite was setting up the packages while Paula was placing a large, white cake on the table. Mahou blinked when she saw an oblong package resting atop all the other gifts. She dared herself to hope it was a Firebolt.

"Sit, Angelears," Weatherlite told his daughter, "and open your gifts."

The first one was a new hat to wear that would help to cover her pointed ears. Next there was a copy of the book "Quidditch Through the Ages", and following that was a new backpack with all the books she would need the coming year, as well as all the tools. In another, but much smaller, parcel there was a large bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Mahou was iffy about those... ever since the sardine one... Finally, after opening a present with 3 robes and a pointy hat, Mahou found her dream: the Firebolt.

Her slanted eyes went wide as she read the name on the handle, saw each and every perfect twig in the brush, and read the identification number. Her heart was soaring as she thought about the times she would have, flying high over Hogwarts with the other students below.

"Oh, Da!" she cried happily. "This be th' best present ever ye got me. I'll cherish me new Firebolt forever, Da!" She beamed. Suddenly, her elated face fell as if all her dreams were crushed.

"What's the matter, dear?" her mother, Paula, asked. "You look like getting the Firebolt isn't all you thought it would be."

Mahou shook her head. "It's no' tha', Ma," she said sadly. "It jus' be tha'... I cannae take th' Firebolt ta Hogwarts. Firs' years cannae take broomsticks."

Paula scrunched up her face and held out her wand, which she drew from her apron pocket. "Accio parchment! Accio quill! Accio inkwell!" she shouted angrily. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she began her letter to Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:

"Salutations, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore,

I am writing in regards of my daughter, Mahou Amberstone, and the subject of First Years. She was sent a list of supplies for the First Year students, yet she has already had her first 3 years of schooling at Cerridwyn's School for Gifted Girls in Blackwater, Ireland. She has just received a new Firebolt for her birthday and she is crushed to know that First Years cannot bring broomsticks.

I was wondering if there has been a mistake about her list and that she may be a Fourth Year now, instead of a First Year. If no mistake has been made, then I was wondering if she would be permitted to bring her new Firebolt to Hogwarts. I await your prompt answer.

With Deepest Regards,

Paula Amberstone (Hickory)

former student House Gryffindor

P.S. I was wondering if I could arrange an appointment for Mahou to visit the school before this term lets out. I await your owl.

**********

A few days previous to the start of the examinations, Albus Dumbledore had received the letter from Paula Amberstone and he replied thus:

"Dear Paula Amberstone,

My sincere apologies for the mis-understanding regarding Mahou's admission next term at Hogwarts. These confusions do at times occur when a student has transferred from private schooling.

Notes from the Headmistress of Mahou's former school have been forwarded to me and looking over these her level of training, supplemented no doubt by your teaching, appears consistent with a student ready to enter a Fourth Year of study.

As you know, Hogwarts caters for both young wizards and witches and it would probably be a good idea for Mahou to meet some of the young people that she will be studying with next autumn. A few other new students and in some cases their families will be visiting the school during early June. Your daughter as well as yourself and Weatherlite Amberstone will of course be made welcome. If you would prefer that Mahou spend a day or so unaccompanied that also can be arranged.

Obviously some of our 'optional' subjects differ than those covered at Cerridwyn's and during your visit Mahou can see which of these interest her and some preparatory work may be assigned. Based on her Headmistress' notes as well as your former House affiliation, I would suggest that she be placed in Gryffindor. If you or Mahou are unhappy with this placement, we can of course arrange a session with the Sorting Hat.

Certainly she will be permitted to bring her Firebolt though if she wishes to try-out for her House team in September, Madame Hooch insists on a 'level-playing field' and all trials must be undertaken on standard school brooms.

I look forward to your owl in reply.

Albus Dumbledore,

Headmaster"

**********

Paula was sitting down to dinner when an owl about the size of a cat swooped into the kitchen, startling her husband who still wasn't used to the owl-deliveries. Smiling, she paid the owl, which promptly flew on the windowsill to await the reply, and read the letter.

"Oh, Mahou!" she cried, grinning from one round ear to the other. "You've been accepted into Hogwarts as a Fourth-year student! And they said that you should be placed in Gryffindor because that was where I was when I went to Hogwarts. What do you think?"

Mahou swallowed her portion of Cornish hen and said, "But Ma, I thought tha' there was a ceremony t' go through? Th' Sortin' Hat or somethin' o' tha' sort?" She shovelled some peas into her mouth, her pointed ears twitching.

"Well, dear, yes," Paula said awkwardly. "But don't you want to be in Gryffindor? It's for the brave at heart and I know my little Angelears is braver than anyone I know." She patted her husband's hand gently. He smiled.

"I guess Gryffindor would be grand, Ma," she said, swallowing the peas. "But wha' about Quidditch?" There went the peas again.

"Headmaster Dumbledore said you could try out for the team, but you would have to use the school's broom," Paula explained. "So I suggest you brush up on your Quidditch skills. I could play a bit with you and use your old Nimbus. I need to write the Headmaster back and set up a date to visit the school before you go there in the fall."

With that, Paula called her quill, ink, and parchment again, and began to write...

"Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,

Everything is all right now. There was no harm done. We just need to make another visit to Diagon Alley. I completely understand why the confusion came to be. Cerridwyn's is, indeed, a private school.

Mahou was very pleased to know that she would be a Fourth Year, rather than a first. You know how children can be with those younger than them. I agree to this. She has spent all of her witch learning with only other witches, no wizards, and thus might not know how to act around them in the classroom setting. This is a very good idea and I would like to pursue it.

Any day is good for us. Just let me know.

I have a feeling that my husband and I should not stay for more than a few hours. She would feel smothered and thus, not wish us to be there. What would her accommodations be if she were to visit? Would she be staying but the day and then come home? Or would she be staying the night?

I suppose you do not offer things like, wand making and ritual-design. Mahou is very skilled in those and has her own wand that she made. It is a willow wand with unicorn-tail hair. Ten inches. She would like to be in Gryffindor, but maybe a small private session with the Sorting Hat would ease any doubts of her placement. She seemed a bit wary when I mentioned it.

I have spoken to her about this and she has agreed, if not a bit grudgingly. She can be difficult at times and I fear her attitude might get her into trouble at Hogwarts.

I thank you for your prompt reply and I return your owl with my own letter.

Regards,

Paula Amberstone

**********

Paula Amberstone's letter arrived during the crises and could not be answered until Dumbledore's return though he had despatched his reply immediately.

"Dear Paula Amberstone,

It would be delightful to have Mahou here for a day or so. Indeed, this will be an ideal time for her to meet her fellow students. If you would permit her to remain overnight she will be accommodated in the Guest Tower. I am certain a small Sorting ceremony can be arranged for her if it puts her more at ease."

He remembered all too well the recent problem with Alpha whose placement in Gryffindor had been made by committee. He didn't know if she felt more at ease or less since the Hat had confirmed her Slytherin placement.

He continued:

"I am pleased to hear that Mahou has made her own wand. It is a very useful skill and one that I am afraid is tending to be ignored these days. With respect to ritual-design, you are indeed correct to note that this does not form part of our curriculum. As much ritual is bound up with religious and spiritual issues, it is felt best by the school board to leave the transmission of these skills to parental discretion.

I have this past year conducted a class in 'Spell Invention and Design' though it is uncertain whether this shall be offered as an option next year for Fourth Years. Still I expect we shall have much on our curriculum to keep her mind engaged as well as social events.

I look forward to your visit.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster'

**********

Upon the arrival of the next letter, Mahou and her family packed a change of clothes for the half-elf, plunking a hat to cover her ears on her head, and mounted their broomsticks, making sure that they were well-covered before they set out...

Paula remembered the way like a map of her heart. Hogwarts had always been a fond memory of hers, but so had meeting her elfin husband, who was also wearing a hat to cover his long, pointed ears. She smiled as they flew: Mahou on her Firebolt, Paula on the Nimbus, and Weatherlite, who still was queasy about flight, was perched on a Cleansweep.

Within hours, because of apparating to a place nearer to the school, the family arrived, landing lightly on the grounds of Hogwarts. Paula wiped a tear from her eye and walked to the doors, Mahou, nervous and shivering slightly, following behind, with Weatherlite bringing up the rear.

Mahou walked with an unusual grace, one that humans couldn't fathom even in ballroom dancing. Weatherlite moved with the same grace, though it looked more natural on him than it did on Mahou. They entered the building and looked around, Paula seeming like she was returning home after a long vacation, Weatherlite alight with curiosity, and Mahou.. Mahou was afraid.

"Ma.. I donnae like this place.. It's no' like Cerridwyn's," Mahou whispered, hoping the walls didn't have ears. "No one is gonna like me, Ma. I can feel it.. I be too.. different."

"Mahou!" Paula shouted, planting her hands on her hips. "Being different is what is so special about everyone. How many times must I tell you?" She looked about the place. "Now we must wait for the Headmaster to show us to where we should go, and where you would be staying."

"But remember, Angelears," Weatherlite said lowly, "donnae take off yer hat."

Mahou nodded, cramming the hat lower on her head.