You Always Pay Your Debts

"Minerva McGonagall?"

Andrew froze for a moment. The name seemed familiar, but he was not entirely sure. McGonagall was not exactly an uncommon surname.

I'll list that name separately and think about it later. Right now, I need to deal with applying to schools first.

There was no helping it. The royalties were decent, but the money was genuinely a little too hot to handle—he did not know enough about English law. More precisely, no one in the entire orphanage knew much about the law.

There were indeed professional writers in the public records, but he still felt uneasy about whether a minor's involvement in writing would be investigated, or even land him in some special school. How would an ordinary person know anything about that sort of thing?

If it really was a special school, how could he get past the investigation?

Put the author's name under someone else's?

He believed someone would be willing to take the blame, but doing it in a rush would lead to financial disputes afterward. His pen name had already gained recognition, and his royalties were quite substantial.

Trustworthy people were too hard to find. The orphanage children could not even keep secrets, and as for the other adults in the orphanage, the most they would do for that money was refrain from asking questions. Asking them to bear that reputation was out of the question.

But if he looked for an outsider...

Wait... Andrew suddenly realized he had fallen into a misunderstanding.

Why was he afraid of a special school?

It would be nothing more than a group of administrators and a group of students. Even now, based on his research into "telekinesis," he would not lose out to any student. As for the administrators, if they were not scum, there was nothing to fear. If they were scum, then the profits generated by his manuscripts would make them choose someone else. And if they were even worse than that—sorry, then he did not know whether an accident or tomorrow would come first.

Since that was the case, he had nothing to worry about.

Then bring it on.

"Written down by the Quill of Acceptance three months ago..."

Minerva McGonagall walked down a road that looked as though it had not been maintained in ages, giving the name on the list one final confirmation.

Every child born within England's Wizarding world was tested by the Quill of Acceptance until they turned twelve. The Book of Admittance, meanwhile, would not allow the Quill of Acceptance to write down a child's name until that child displayed sufficient talent.

Unless some special circumstance prevented it, that child would receive an acceptance letter from Hogwarts. If they came from a Muggle family, a Hogwarts professor would personally visit and guide them.

That was Hogwarts's admission procedure. The Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance had been working ever since the Four Founders established the school, and Hogwarts had never admitted anyone whose name was not in the Book of Admittance.

"No Ministry of Magic personnel were drawn here, which means the magical signs he produced were not very obvious... Still, thankfully, we made it in time..."

Professor McGonagall was even somewhat happy for the student. If someone did not display magical power until after the age of twelve, even children from wizarding families could not receive a proper education. They might even become uneducated Squibs for the rest of their lives.

And considering that he lived in Muggle society, if he did not enter Hogwarts, he might spend his entire life cut off from magic.

"This is the place." She looked at the old wooden sign. Before her stood a secluded courtyard enclosed by tall fencing, with an aging building in the middle.

As soon as Professor McGonagall knocked on the door, a woman in an apron quickly led her into the entrance hall.

"You must be Mrs. McGonagall?"

Mrs. Camille hurried over with a willow switch that looked quite sturdy still in her hand. Judging by the damage to its bark, some lucky soul had clearly made intimate contact with it not long ago.

"Yes, Mrs. Camille. I wrote yesterday to explain the purpose of my visit. I am here for Andrew Taylor."

"Very well, this way, please."

Only when Mrs. Camille held out her hand did she realize that she had not yet put down the willow switch. She looked at it, then lowered it to her side.

"My apologies. Today has been rather rushed, but those boys are even more mischievous than I imagined." She sighed. "The nannies are too gentle. There always has to be someone they are afraid of."

"Indeed." Professor McGonagall nodded, her expression becoming a little helpless as well. "They always make mistakes beyond imagination."

The atmosphere between them immediately became less unfamiliar. Amid the friendly exchange, Professor McGonagall was led into a fairly tidy office—but the mismatched furniture and plain decorations all spoke of its owner's poverty.

"Please, sit, Mrs. McGonagall. You said you came for little Andrew, but as far as I know, he has not applied to any school. I only just finished writing the recommendation letter for the school he intends to apply to."

"Of course, he has not applied. But our school discovered that he possesses certain qualities we are looking for, so I came to invite him to attend our school."

"Your school?"

Mrs. Camille studied Professor McGonagall across from her.

"Yes, our school. I am a professor."

"Then," Mrs. Camille's gaze sharpened, "what kind of school is it?"

"It is called Hogwarts. We specialize in admitting students with certain special qualities."

"I do not think that is necessary." Mrs. Camille's tone turned cold. "Little Andrew is an excellent child. Although he is already too old to be adopted, his... knowledge and upbringing are more than sufficient. He will attend a public secondary school properly, then enter a good university, and live up to everyone's expectations."

"So I will not agree to let him attend a special school, Professor McGonagall," Mrs. Camille said firmly. "Please leave."

Professor McGonagall was somewhat surprised, but she quickly took out a blank piece of parchment, tapped it lightly, and handed it to Mrs. Camille.

"Not a special school, and one with proper procedures and formalities?"

Mrs. Camille scrutinized the blank parchment as though it bore numerous official seals.

"This..."

She hesitated. "It appears that your Hogwarts is indeed a legitimate, qualified school. Then let little Andrew make the decision himself."

That was somewhat beyond Professor McGonagall's expectations, but she had intended to meet him anyway. Because of his background, she needed to take him to Diagon Alley so he could familiarize himself with the Wizarding world. She also needed to help him purchase all the required books and a wand, as well as provide a ticket for the Hogwarts Express.

"Then let us go, ma'am. I think he will like Hogwarts."