Summary: Annabelle's a muggle born witch who gets tossed into the wizarding world without the support of her family. Who's there to save her but our stern deputy headmistress, herself.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters affiliated with J. K. Rowling's wonderful masterpiece. I only own Annabelle and the Wytes thus far...

August 26

Annabelle woke up, groaning at the golden rays of sunshine already peaking through her second-story window. Today was supposed to be a big day for kids, especially special ones like herself, not that she knew any better. She dragged herself out of bed and pulled a long sleeve tee-shirt out of her closet, slipping it over her head and wincing as the cloth covered her bruised skin. Realizing that her parents would be upset if she delayed making breakfast much longer, she hurriedly slipped on a pair of jeans and rushed downstairs, careful not to make a noise. As she got out the skillet to make pancakes on, the doorbell rung and she grimaced, knowing it would wake up her parents.

"Get that!" Came the shrill yell from upstairs, urging her to answer the door before the visitor made any more noise. Annabelle quickly set the skillet down on the counter and sprinted for the door, screwing her face up in pain as she bumped into the table on her way. She took a moment to compose herself before swinging the door open, mouth gaping open at the strange woman's attire.

She wore green emerald robes and a pointed hat. She looked to be older than her mother and stood at least a foot taller than the petite child. They stood in silence for a moment before the woman's thin lips split into a warm smile. "You must be Annabelle Wyte. Am I right?" The strange woman stuck a hand out to Annabelle and the younger girl subconsciously stepped away from the woman, nodding though. After a pregnant pause, the woman lowered her hand slightly awkwardly and her grin faltered for a moment. Why was this child so distant from her? "Miss Wyte, are your parents here?" At a slight nod, she pushed on. "May I speak with them?" The child looked unsure so the woman smiled again, and decided to explain herself. "I am Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration instructor and deputy headmistress at Hogwarts." She decided to leave out the part about it being a school for aspiring witches and wizards until after she met Miss Wyte's parents. The girl seemed timid enough as it was.

Just then, Mrs. Wyte came thudding down the stairs and Annabelle winced despite herself. Her mother was not going to be happy that this woman had come before she had her morning cocktail. At least it seemed that her father was still asleep upstairs. Mrs. Wyte made her way to Annabelle and stood over her and was about to yell at her for keeping the door open so long when she noticed the strange woman's attire. "Who are you?" She leaned against the wall with her robe hastily tied at her waist, barely containing her figure as she sneered at the woman.

Professor McGonagall was certainly puzzled, and slightly concerned, about Mrs. Wyte's behavior, but she pushed it aside as simply being early and extended her hand. "I'm Professor Minerva McGonagall. I'm here on behalf of Hogwart's staff, hoping to inform you that young Miss Annabelle, here, has been accepted to our school." She gestured at the young girl, only to have her look quickly between the two older women, not sure which way to turn. McGonagall seemed nice enough, but her mother could act nice sometimes too. She wanted to just blend into the wall, but that didn't really seem possible.

Mrs. Wyte laid a hand upon her daughters shoulder, suddenly pretending to be a good parent. "I don't remember Anna applying for any school. She already has a school to go to in the fall." At this point, her hand tightened a little on Annabelle's shoulder and the young girl visibly winced.

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at the odd display in front of her. "Do you mind if I come in? I believe this is a discussion that would go smoother if we could all sit down and talk." She didn't have to wonder long what the short blonde was going to choose as she hastily shook her head. Everything this woman did seemed to be without any though or deliberation and this was slightly unsettling to the stern professor. "Alright, then we'll continue this right here." Minerva then wandlessly and wordlessly cast a silencing spell on the area. She didn't need muggles hearing what was going on and getting curious. "Hogwarts is a school of witchcraft and wizardry. This is not a school you simply apply for. When a gifted student," The older witch again gestured at Annabelle. "Is born, their name is given to us and when the time comes, we send them a letter. " At this time, she procured a small envelope with the Hogwarts seal on the outside. Handing it to Annabelle, she grinned again. "If permitted, Miss Wyte will make her way to Kings Cross Station on September 1st and board the Hogwart's Express. Before then, a member of the staff will come and take Miss Wyte to Diagon Alley where she will purchase the items she will require for the school year."

Again, Mrs. Wyte shook her head indignantly. "I won't have my child going to some school for freaks." She moved to slam the door when Annabelle stepped in the way at the same time as the professor stuck the toe of her shoe into the door.

Annabelle was hit with the door and Professor McGonagall gasped lightly before stepping inside. She smiled, seemingly sweet, as she reigned in her temper. "Mrs. Wyte, her powers will not simply go away if she does not receive instruction. It will only get worse as her powers grow. If she goes to Hogwarts, we can teach her how to control her powers. That would be the best option for everyone involved." Minerva nodded curtly, pleased to have kept her speech at least civil.

Mrs. Wyte sniffed and crossed her arms, effectively huffing like a small child. "It won't be the best option for the ones who have to pay her tuition." She knew the woman couldn't beat that argument.

"Mrs. Wyte, I doubt Hogwarts cost much more than any other boarding school you might send her too and if money is really that big of a problem, I'm sure it can be taken care of by other means."

Mrs. Wyte admitted defeat, but upon this revelation, she stumbled upon another. She looked to the strange woman again, giving a curt, "Stay here." She then tugged Annabelle inside as she shut the door. "Go pack your things. If this woman wants you to go to this school so badly, she'll bloody well take you now." Mrs. Wyte then headed up to tell her hung over husband the news as Annabelle went to quickly throw all her belongings into her trunk. She piled her small wardrobe into the trunk and then moved to squash as many books inside as she could fit without crushing her flute. Satisfied that she only had to leave behind one shelf of books, she began to tug her trunk into the hall, struggling the whole way.

Upon reaching the hallway, Annabelle practically stumbled into her mother as she flew down the stairs, grinning maliciously. Deciding that her mother's conversation was more important than moving the trunk, she crept down the stairs to listen in. Professor McGonagall has asked if her mother and father had made a decision, to which there was no reply that Annabelle could hear. She gathered that her mother had simply nodded her head before speaking. "If she's going to your blasted school, then you better be ready to take her now. When does she come back?"

Minerva was again taken aback. Mrs. Wyte seemed absolutely hostile toward both her own daughter and the professor. "She can come back for the major holidays, such as Christmas." Professor McGonagall could only hope she was asking when she could come back, not when she had to.

Sadly, though, the professor was soon proven wrong as the woman's grin only seemed to grow in size. "And the school year ends when? In June?" Things would be so much better without the little brat around.

Again, the answer was simply made up of an eerie silence as Annabelle listened in from the staircase. Just as her mother began to speak again, Annabelle was wrenched up by her collar. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Her father had come down the stairs behind her and now held her in front of him, his wretched breath filtering into her nose. Annabelle didn't dare answer as she knew it would only get her into more trouble as he practically dragged her back up the stairs and tossed her carelessly into the room, not even flinching as her arm banged against the foot of her bed and she fell to the ground. "While you're gone, this is our secret." He shook his filthy finger in her face as he leaned over her. "If you tell a single bloody one of them what goes on in this room, it won't only be your life on the line. No one will want you anyway. You just wait and see. They'll be done with you soon enough and then you'll come crawling back to your mother and me." He then smirked and stood up again. "You just better hope we're willing to take you back." At this, her father turned around and made his way back to his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

He was right. No one would ever want her and soon she'd be sent back home to live with him. She wiped at her tears and pulled herself back up. She could at least have a little time away from them. That meant making her way downstairs with her heavy trunk and impressing the professor, though. As she finally made her way to the top of the stairs, her trunk began to float its way down the stairs and toward the front door. Annabelle's mouth opened in a wide "o" as she chased after her trunk, gasping as she saw it shrink to the size of a matchbox. Her tiny trunk landed in the palm of Professor McGonagall's hand, who just smiled at the young child's awe. "You can learn to do that, too. Your mother said you could come with me now. That is only if you'd like to, of course." The woman kept up her warm exterior as she reached out a hand to the young child.

Annabelle took a step away from her outreached hand, only to receive a sad smile in response. "Where are we going?" She didn't understand why she had to take the woman's hand if they were leaving.

"Well, I was going to ask your mother if we could use your backyard to apparate away, given as I'd risk exposing us if I were to perform such magic right here. The trunk was one thing, but this kind of magic is something totally different, but you have to take my hand for me to do it. In fact, it'd be better if you took a hold of my arm and held on tightly." She then paused, looking to Mrs. Wyte again. "May we use your backyard?" As she was met with a nod, she led Annabelle out back. "Alright, now I need you to hold on as tight as you can." Professor McGonagall waited for her young charge to comply before she turned on the spot and apparated them both to her expansive manor.