Disclaimer: Don't mess with Texas or JK Rowling.

A/N: The story serves as a bridge between The Accidental Animagus, the final chapter of which was posted today, and the sequel, Animagus at War, the first chapter of which will be posted next Saturday. I wanted to pull back and look at how the magical world reacts to Voldemort's return and generally showcase a rich world of different magical cultures that is so rarely addressed in the Potterverse. I've been writing this slowly since I finished second year of The Accidental Animagus and saving up chapters for this occasion. Each day, I will post a new chapter dealing with a different part of the world up through next Saturday.

In keeping with the background material I developed for The Accidental Animagus before the Pottermore material was released, I will be disregarding JK Rowling's description of magical schools around the world in this story. There are 60 schools of magic in the Animagus-verse, including the old fanon favourite of the Salem Witches' Institute.

Chapter 1: Quodpot, Mom, and Apple Pie

Amarillo, Texas, USA

24 July 1995

Sequoyah Proctor of the Long River School of Arcana double-checked the address and walked up the front sidewalk to the house of the first No-Maj-born child on his list. Proctor was one of four individuals in the United States doing this job this week, although his list was the longest. A quick look over the house gave him vital clues to what he would be dealing with. The Bible quote on the doormat and the decorative cross on the door were the most telling. There was also a small sign declaring support for the U.S. Army—possibly a Gulf War veteran in the home—and a pennant declaring support for the Dallas Cowboys. Other than that, the house looked much like any other in the area—cookie-cutter homes nestled tightly together with their neighbours with a few trees and a two-car garage in a land of endless subdivisions. The American Dream, he thought sarcastically.

On seeing the cross and the Bible quote, he pulled his own small cross necklace out of his shirt to rest on top of his robes. Things might be different in secularised Europe, or even at Salem, but given the sensitive nature of working with devoutly religious families, Long River and Cahokia always made sure the teacher sent to meet No-Maj-born children was a practising Christian, preferably of the Evangelical persuasion. There were more than a few of those even in the magical world, and Proctor was a proud member.

He rang the doorbell. A minute later, a young-looking woman in a conservative dress opened the door and squinted slightly into the sun. It was evening, shortly after the time when the average working family would eat dinner. It was always best to include both parents in this sort of thing, and at a convenient time for them, hence the odd working hours.

"Hello, can I help you?" she said.

"Good evening, are you Mrs. Taylor?" Proctor asked.

"Yes, I am."

He offered his hand to her. "My name is Sequoyah Proctor," he said, shaking her hand and also handing holding up a brochure. "I represent a school for gifted children called Long River. Your son, Joshua's, test scores indicate that he might be a good fit for our program." Not technically a lie. Honesty was important. "Would it be possible for me to speak to him with you and your husband?"

"Gifted students?" Mrs. Taylor asked. "Well, this is a surprise. I didn't realise Josh was doing so well. You know how kids are. Never tell you anything. Come on in. I'll go get Mark and Josh." She motioned him into the house and called out, "Joshua, could you come down here, please?"

"Who is it honey?" a tall, thin man with a crew cut said. Proctor suspected he had found his Gulf War veteran.

"Mark, this is…was it Sequoyah?" she clarified.

"Yes, ma'am. Sequoyah Proctor, Mr. Taylor. I represent a school for gifted students, and we're very interested in Joshua."

"Really? Well, pleased to meet you Mr. Proctor. Sequoyah. That's not a name you hear much these days."

Proctor barely reacted. He got that a lot working with No-Majes. "No, not often, but my mother is Cherokee, so—"

"What's up, Mom?" A tall boy interrupted amid a too-loud thudding down the stairs. He also wore a crew cut, though not as severe as his father's. A smaller girl and an even smaller boy trailed along behind him.

"Rachael, Matt, you can go back upstairs," Mrs. Taylor said. "This man is here to talk to Joshua about his schooling."

"Actually, Mrs. Taylor, I think it would be helpful to talk to the whole family," Proctor stopped her. "If your other children's scores match Joshua's we'll be interested in them, too, when they reach sixth grade. Um, are these all the children?"

"Oh…uh, yes, just the three…well, I guess sit down, then. Kids, this is, Mr. Proctor. Mr. Proctor is from a school for gifted students in…where is your school?"

"Louisiana."

"Louisiana?" Mr. Taylor said in surprise. "And you came all the way out here?"

"Yes, I did…" It was time to cut to the chase, he decided. "What I'm about to tell you is going to sound extraordinary—even absurd—but I hope you will hear me out." That certainly put the parents on edge, and they eyed him suspiciously, but he pressed on. "May I ask, do you own a computer?"

"Yes, sir, we do," Mr. Taylor said.

"Good. Now, this will sound odd, but imagine if I could take your computer back in time and show it to my eight-times-great grandfather in Salem, Massachusetts three hundred years ago. What do you think would happen?"

Mrs. Taylor laughed a little. "They'd burn you as a witch, of course."

"Hang, actually, not burn, but you get the idea," Proctor replied. "They would think it was pure witchcraft, even if I tried to explain it to them. I could show them a computer, and, assuming I had electricity and the right equipment and maybe an Internet connection, I could teach them to use a computer to write reports, run programs, play games, and read message boards. I could even try to explain the principles of electricity that make it run, but to the people of Salem in 1692, it would never be anything but magic."

"Do you have a point with this, Mr. Proctor?" Mr. Taylor said irritably.

"Yes, I do. I want you to imagine that there exists technology that is as advanced to us today as a computer would have been to the people of the 1600s—technology that our science isn't equipped to explain yet, and which is so far advanced in our eyes that we may as well just call it magic. Imagine that the ability to use this technology is genetic—that the technology will only respond to people with certain genetic markers, which are sometimes passed down in families and sometimes occur randomly. Imagine that this technology follows consistent scientific rules, and even though scientists don't understand it yet, they are confident that it is explainable, just as the laws of electromagnetism that govern computers are explainable."

"Why are you saying all this?" Mr. Taylor demanded.

"Because I want you to understand that when I say that magic is real, am I not referring to any Biblical or spiritual definition of magic. I'm referring to natural forces that appear to defy the natural order, but are in fact explainable at their root."

Both parents gave Proctor an icy stare when he finished his speech, and Mr. Taylor said, "I think you need to leave, Mr. Proctor."

And that was why he didn't like using this gambit. This was the point where the No-Maj parents usually wanted to throw him out as a crank regardless of their religious views. "I will leave if you wish," he said calmly, "but it will not change the truth of my words. Before you dismiss them, I want to ask you one question: has anything strange—anything unexplainable or impossible ever happened around Joshua, or any of your children, for that matter? Particularly when they were scared or angry?"

That stopped the entire family cold. The parents turned to look at their children worriedly, and the children looked back and forth between their parents and each other. Finally, Mrs. Taylor worked up the courage to speak up. "You mean things like…objects seeming to jump into the children's hands, flowers blooming out of season, and mysterious failures of electrical appliances?"

"Yes, ma'am, that's precisely it. Those sorts of outbursts are common among the children we work with, and they are triggered by strong emotions."

The family looked scared, now, especially Mr. and Mrs. Taylor. "How could you possibly know that?" the woman said shakily. "We've never told anyone."

"We have ways of detecting those…events wherever they occur. We've detected quite a few of them around this house over the years."

"So you're saying," Mr. Taylor said, "that our kids have these…these supernatural powers?"

"I did not say supernatural, Mr. Taylor."

"I don't care what you said! You're talking witchcraft and sorcery. We do not associate with that, and we will not have you influencing our children with such talk. Kids, go back upstairs. Now. We'll discuss this later," he told his children. "Mr. Proctor, you have more than overstayed your welcome."

Proctor sighed and took a step backwards towards the door. He hoped they would let him get his last couple of arguments in before he had to leave and resort to Plan B. (Plan B usually involved having a wizard pastor approach a No-Maj pastor who was known to the family.) But just before he spoke, Mrs. Taylor said, "Mark, wait."

"Ruth, what is it?" Mr. Taylor said.

"I don't think we should dismiss him so quickly."

"Are you kidding me? You heard what he said!"

"Yes, Mark, I heard what he said. But I also know the kids haven't been attending Black Masses or drinking chicken's blood, and yet strange things keep happening around them. You've seen it, too. I don't think they're even doing it deliberately. How can you explain that?"

"I—I don't know," he said, with a pained expression. "I don't know where they could have picked up something like that. We've tried to raise them right, keep them away from demonic influences—"

At that point, Proctor took his chance and interrupted, "If I may, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, I'm a practising Southern Baptist, so I know where you're coming from, and I understand your concern. But my whole argument was that what we call 'magic' today for convenience and historical reasons is not the same as what the Bible calls forbidden magic any more than electricity is. I firmly believe that it is scientifically explainable, even though we don't understand the science, yet."

That clearly didn't assuage Mr. Taylor, and even Mrs. Taylor still looked conflicted, but at least they stopped trying to push him out the door. Proctor cast a furtive glance up at the stairs and was oddly pleased to see the three children eavesdropping behind their parents' backs. "It's one thing to say that," Mr. Taylor said. "If you claim to know the Bible. You believe you can justify these…ideas of yours?"

"I think we've established that they're more than just ideas." Proctor considered giving them a demonstration now, but he held off a bit longer, hoping he could make them more comfortable with it first. "And yes, I can. Now, I will freely admit that there are a range of views about what we call magic, even among Christians. But the vast majority of us believe there is no conflict. First, there is the way that magic works. There are Christians, Jews, Atheists, Pagans, and all other major religions who are witches and wizards—again, this is the colloquial terminology inherited from centuries past. We all cast the same spells in the same way—or at least we can—without calling on any common spirits, demonic or otherwise. As I said, it's not demonic at all. It's genetic. Magic behaves essentially like science. It follows fixed laws that we can discern, and we can run repeatable experiments on it."

"I suppose that would be fine if it's true," Mr. Taylor replied, "but you haven't given us any evidence."

"I know, and unfortunately, I can't demonstrate very much that would be able to convince you on that point. But I will add another point: if you take a close look at the original Greek and Hebrew words involved—and if you make certain allowances, admittedly—then you'll find that the only forms of magic that are unambiguously condemned by the Bible are divination and necromancy. Now, there is a long history of divination in the magical community, but there's also a long history of divination in the No-Maj community—"

"No-Maj?" Mrs. Taylor cut in.

"Excuse me. No-magic. The point is that most schools in the Americas don't teach divination anymore, and no reputable school has ever taught necromancy."

Mr. and Mrs. Taylor stood silently in thought for a minute. This was a good sign, since they were actually considering his words. Eventually, Mr. Taylor said, "I admit that all sounds plausible, Mr. Proctor, but I hope you'll forgive us if we're hesitant to accept your interpretation."

Proctor shrugged: "Not everyone does. There are a range of views. However, many, if not most witches and wizards in the United States are good Christian men and women who see their natural magic as just that—a natural talent—a gift from God, even. And they see forbidden magic that calls on spirits or demons as something entirely different and won't have anything to do with it.

"I know some Christians who do practice divination and justify it by saying it's as scientific as the rest of magic, and after all, there was a time when predicting the weather by No-Maj means was considered witchcraft. Personally, I think that it's wishful thinking and rationalising away the plain meaning of the text. On the other hand, there are some of us who eschew magic entirely. However, even if your children choose that lifestyle, they will still need education in how to control their magic. Otherwise, these 'strange occurrences' will keep happening and will likely get worse."

Mr. Taylor's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Do we get a choice in this?"

"Not exactly. There are a few tutors who teach the limited curriculum of just controlling magic, but I'm afraid that magical education is mandatory from the ages of eleven to sixteen."

"How can you do that? It's a free country!"

Proctor shook his head. "Not like that, Mr. Taylor. With No-Maj education, even with homeschooling, you're free to educate your children in any way you wish, but you must educate them. Well, if you have magical children, you must educate them magically. That is enforced by the Department of Magical Education under the Magical Congress of the United States, the same as with ordinary school."

"There's a magical Congress?" Mr. Taylor slapped a hand to his forehead and was starting to look a bit faint. "God help us, one is bad enough."

"I know the feeling. But even more important than that is the fact that you won't want to stop your children's magical education, either. You'll at least need to have them taught in self-control. I told you, these strange occurrences they've been experiencing—what we call 'accidental magic'—are fuelled by strong emotions, and without learning control, they'll only get worse as they enter their teenage years—both more dangerous and more conspicuous to the outside world, neither of which are good for anyone involved. Ignoring it won't work. Therapy won't work. Strict discipline is as likely to make it worse, and ditto for exorcisms—and believe me, I've seen all of those and more. The only thing that will work is a competent magical education. Even if Joshua hangs up his wand for good when he turns sixteen, he's going to need it."

"His wand?" Mrs. Taylor said sceptically.

That seemed like as good an opportunity as any. Proctor drew a small stick from his sleeve and held it up for them to see. "This is a highly-refined instrument for focusing the natural energies around us and making them do useful work—or, as we prefer to call it because it's easier, a magic wand. He pointed the stick at the television set and said, "Wingardium Leviosa." The Taylor Family all gasped as the TV rose into the air, spun around once, and then settled back down.

"Woooow!"

"Josh!" Mr. Taylor spun around as all three of his children ran down the stairs.

"Rachael! Matt!" Mrs. Taylor said. "Were you listening the whole time?"

The kids all nodded before they realised that might get them in trouble.

"We told you to go upstairs."

The older two children looked sorry at once, but little Matt piped up, "Can you teach us how to do that, Mr. Proctor?"

"Matt, shut up!" Joshua whispered.

"We're not doing anything for sure yet," Mr. Taylor said sternly. "Mr. Proctor was only here about Joshua, and we need to think it over and pray about it before we decide anything."

"But you did say it was all three of them, didn't you?" Mrs. Taylor asked.

Proctor shook his head: "I only know about Joshua for sure. It's in our records. But if you'll permit me—" He held up his wand. "—there's an easy way to find out."

Mrs. Taylor looked to her husband questioningly, and he huffed and rolled his eyes, but he said, "Oh, fine. It's not like this day can get any crazier."

He waved his wand and muttered an incantation. A golden aura flashed around him and all three of the Taylor children, who stared at each other eagerly. "Yes, it's all three of them," he said. "You may not appreciate this now, but that's lucky. It's usually easier on families if all of the children are one or the other. Now, I know this is difficult for you, but I want to try to help." He pulled out a pen (not a quill) and wrote down some names. "I'd like to connect you with my pastor, Hezekiah Jackson. He's also a wizard and is ordained by the Southern Baptist Convention, so he can explain the Biblical arguments better than I can. And I'd also like to connect you with some people who have given up magic because of their religious views, so you can make an informed decision."

That kind of a show of goodwill usually went a long way and it clearly took the parents by surprise. He'd been so intent on selling the idea of magic that it didn't seem to have occurred to them that he would advocate giving it up. "I…we…that's very generous of you, Mr. Proctor."

"Just doing my job, ma'am. These sorts of concerns aren't uncommon. I just ask that you make some time to talk it over with the people I connect you with, and then, we can discuss Joshua's educational options at a later date, say, in a week?"

The parents thought that over, and Mr. Taylor eventually agreed: "I think we can live with that, Mr. Proctor."

"Very well. Good evening to you." Well, that wasn't so bad, Proctor thought as he left. He'd certainly seen much worse cases in his time.

Sequoyah Proctor returned to the Taylors' home one week later and was relieved to find them far more receptive to him than last time. It had taken, from what he understood, several very long conversations with the people he sent to them on both sides of the issue, including Pastor Hezekiah, as well as a lot of prayer and soul-searching, before they came to terms with their children's gifts and accepted the prevailing view (among wizards) that it was not one of the forbidden arts of the Bible. And as such, they were willing to consider Mr. Proctor's school. The children, of course, were all very excited at the prospect of getting to learn magic with clear consciences.

"I do thank you for keeping an open mind," Proctor told them when he arrived, "and for having me back here."

"Of course, Mr. Proctor," Mr. Taylor replied, much more kindly than before, "and we thank you and the others' for your support. It's been a difficult week for us."

"Well, you're not the first. There are plenty of families who have the same concerns. But since we've reached an understanding we can discuss Joshua's options for schooling, and I can also answer any other questions you have about magical society." Of course, all of the children were present, since they would likely be attending together in a few years.

"So we have a few options?" Mrs. Taylor said.

"Yes, ma'am. There are four schools in the United States—all boarding schools given the large distances involved—which all have open enrolment. There are also private tutors who teach a standard curriculum in the addition to the limited one I mentioned last week, and he could apply as an exchange student to a foreign school, but without connections in the magical world, both of the last two would be very difficult. We strongly recommend No-Maj-born students get some exposure to the magical community so that they're not complete strangers by the time they finish."

"Well…we never really considered boarding school before, but if it's the best option we should probably go with it. Are the schools very different from each other?"

"Yes. Each school reflects the culture and magical traditions of its part of the country. My school is the Long River School of Arcana, situated in the bayou west of New Orleans. I teach Defensive Magic, and I'm also Dean of Admissions. Here's our brochure." He handed them a booklet that showed pictures of a complex of buildings and causeways snaking through a swampy forest. They were surprised to see the water rippling, and the vines swaying as they looked.

"They move!" Joshua exclaimed.

"Well, of course they do. Now, Long River is the most diverse of the four schools. We have, I believe, the most active Christian community of any of the four schools, but also other traditions. Of course, Native American culture is strong throughout the country. About ten percent of the American magical community is still Native American. We also have curanderos and other Latino wizards from here in Texas. We have African religious and magical traditions passed down from the days of the slave trade. We have voodoo practitioners from Cajun Country and the Caribbean. And that diversity has attracted a lot of immigrants from around the world to the South. It's a little bit different from what you're probably used to in Texas."

"Interesting. What about the other schools?" Mr. Taylor asked.

"All different, of course. If you want the really traditional 'Quodpot, mom, and apple pie' America, you'll want to go up to the Cahokia School of Magic and Midewiwin in Illinois."

"What's Quodpot?" Joshua interrupted.

Proctor smiled: "Imagine football played while flying on broomsticks, except instead of four downs, there's a time limit before the ball explodes."

"Explodes?" Mrs. Taylor said worriedly.

"Sweet!" Joshua and Matt exclaimed in unison.

"Um…we'll worry about sports later," Mr. Taylor said. "You were talking about…"

"Cahokia," Proctor said. He handed them the brochure. "It's hidden in what's officially an undeveloped stretch of forest in southern Illinois. Most of the students from the Midwest go there, and it's generally regarded as the most 'traditionally American' of the schools. Their core curriculum is pretty standard, but they also have some good regional studies such as hex signs."

The Cahokia complex looked a little odd. It was set on a small stretch of prairie, but was encircled all around by trees. The large central building looked like it could have been lifted from an Antebellum plantation, but several other buildings on campus looked like Native American longhouses, with a variety of smaller outbuildings. But they didn't dwell on the details before Proctor moved on to the next one.

"The third brochure is for the Salem Witches' Institute in Massachusetts, which, despite the name, is coed. Now, Salem is built on the European model—old, ivy covered halls, uniforms, arcane traditions—the works. The course offerings reflect that, too. It's the only American school that offers divination, and the only one that requires astronomy. It's also unusual, as magical schools go, because most of them try to hide their existence. Being on the East Coast, that's a little hard for them, so they generally just try to blend in and look like a No-Maj boarding school. And it's also a short train ride away from the MACUSA headquarters in New York."

"That was something else we were wondering about," Mr. Taylor said. "How is it that you have your own government?"

"Well, MACUSA is older than the United States Government, but today, we function under a similar system to the federally recognised Native American Tribes. We basically have control of our own affairs, and we liaise only with the President and the head of the Bureau of Indian Affairs—plausible deniability, and all that. Anyway, the last brochure is for La Escuela Hechicería de la Sierra Nevada in California."

The Taylors turned to the last booklet and saw a complex that looked like a scaled up Spanish mission, but incongruously surrounded by redwoods.

"Cool, it looks like in Star Wars," Joshua said.

"It's a redwood forest, Joshua. There's nothing alien about it—I hope," his father said. "Would Joshua have to know Spanish—?"

"No, they teach in English," Proctor said. "They mostly serve the western states and share a lot of that cultural influence. They teach the ritual practises of the pueblo peoples, the curandero tradition, a lot of nature magic, that sort of thing."

"Hmm…there's a lot of material here," Mrs. Taylor said. "When do you need a decision?"

"Not until the end of August, although the next week or two would be best. I also have some guides to the magical population centres and transportation methods around the country, which should help you should you choose to do any shopping or just sightseeing in the meantime." Proctor handed over some more papers of various sorts. "I would recommend getting a hold of some basic introductory books and taking out a subscription to a magical newspaper. But most importantly, I have a special notice I've been asked to give all the No-Maj-born students that MACUSA has issued a travel warning for the British Isles."

The Taylors stopped and stared at him. "The British Isles?" Mr. Taylor said. "A travel warning? Like…England, the British Isles?" Proctor nodded. "Why?"

"You have to understand, conflicts don't always occur in the same places in the magical world as the No-Maj one. I'm afraid there's a terrorist uprising in Britain right now. The terrorist leader, Voldemort, is on a crusade against No-Majes and No-Maj-born wizards. It's an old prejudice, stronger over there than it is here. If you go there even as No-Majes, there's a good chance someone could spot your children for magicals, and that would attract attention you don't want."

"Wow…this is more complicated than I thought."

"It always is. And related to that, I have a piece of advice for you: go buy Josh a wand from Old Coyote soon."

"Who? What?" Mrs. Taylor said.

"Old Coyote. He's a wandmaker. There are others, of course, but he's probably the best in the Western Hemisphere. His store is in the magical district of New Orleans. But he's leaving for Britain soon. He has an assignment from the International Confederations of Wizards to investigate one of Voldemort's allies. So you'll want to visit him before too much time passes."

"Oh. Um, okay. Is it really that bad over there?"

"Not yet, but it could turn bad fast. It's always hard to say…But the Brits have Albus Dumbledore on their side, at least, and he's probably the greatest wizard in the world, plus that boy hero of theirs, Harry Potter."

"Who's Harry Potter?" Joshua spoke up.

"Harry Potter," Proctor repeated. "You can read all about him. He's written two books of his own about all the things he's done. I can barely believe it, myself. Only fourteen years old, and he's the only person ever to survive the Killing Curse—which is just what it sounds like. He's an animagus—he can turn into a cat—which is supposed to be impossible for children. He's supposed to be brilliant at wandless magic, which most wizards never even learn. We actually corresponded about a year ago about whether we would be willing to admit werewolves. He seems like a good kid, but now, he's all mixed up in fighting Voldemort, apparently. At least, a lot of people over there are putting their faith in him. But after all that, who know what will happen?"

"A fourteen-year-old's done all that?" Mrs. Taylor said. "That sounds like a wild fairy tale."

"Well, sure, it's magic, isn't it?" Joshua exclaimed, and his brother and sister both laughed.