Chapter Text
In August, Avonlea was at its most beautiful, or so Anne always thought. Only early spring, when all the trees flowered at once, rivaled the warm sun that only seemed to come at the end of summer on Prince Edward Island. After finishing her chores for the day, Anne scampered off to the path. Now sixteen, she was allowed certain new freedoms (and tasked with certain new responsibilities), and one of them was walking on her own.
Not that she hadn’t done that all the time - Anne used to walk to school when she had first moved to Green Gables, and spent a considerable amount of time wandering around, but never far. When she was younger, she had a much weaker control over her magic, and a fiery disposition no less - she was hardly allowed into town until she had become older and more even-tempered.
Now, as Anne trekked past the fields, waving brightly to Matthew, she thought of the vegetable patches and Herbology greenhouses. She didn’t speak much about magic and Hogwarts to the Cuthberts - not that they wouldn’t let her, but they never quite understood it. Anne wondered if she told Matthew about engorgement spells and Hagrid’s massive pumpkins, would he find it amusing, or strange? If she tried to explain Professor’s Sprouts herbal medicines and the properties of the Mandragora root, how would Marilla react? Anne screwed up her face at the thought, smiling to herself as she tried to picture Marilla holding a shrieking Mandrake.
No, the summer holidays tended to bisect Anne’s life - there was her time at Hogwarts, and her summers in Avonlea. She didn’t mind that; sometimes, it felt wonderful to be at Green Gables where she wasn’t a witch, or a Ravenclaw, or a Quidditch player, but just a daughter. And a Cuthbert.
Fluttering overhead, Anne spotted a scrawny barn owl. It hooted happily down at her, and she craned her neck to watch it soar into the distance. It was Edmund of course, the owl that her parents had bought her before her first year at Hogwarts. She had grown very fond of him, and it was especially nice to have a piece of her magical world with her even over the summers. Marilla usually secured all of Anne’s magical items in a small locked room in the first floor of their house - where no one would think to look. Anne wasn’t sure if there were magical folk in Avonlea, but Marilla was certain that there were not, and was intent on upholding the Statute of Secrecy and keeping Anne’s identity secret. She couldn’t lock up Edmund of course - but Anne kept him in a cage in her room and only let him out every few days, to minimize suspicion.
She wished she could use a broom, though. Anne didn’t have one of her own, but borrowed a school broom for the summer hoping to practice a bit for Quidditch the next year. She had always thought Green Gables would appear even more wonderful if she was soaring over it like a bird. She had imagined the feeling of skimming the Lake of Shining Waters with her toes, the wind in her hair… but Marilla and Matthew wouldn’t let her. Anne knew that it was reasonable - Green Gables was secluded, but not isolated, and there was a perfectly good chance that she could be spotted on a broom. When Anne thought of the look on Rachel Lynde’s face at the sight of that - she was their especially nosy neighbor - she giggled roguishly.
In moments like these, Anne was especially jealous of Gilbert. His father was a wizard, and so he was still very much connected to the magical world. Mr. Blythe had returned from Azkaban at the end of the previous school year, after his wrongful conviction, and they were travelling the world over the summer. At least, that was what Anne had heard from him - he kept her updated with owls. Even with their continued correspondence, Anne missed him much more than she wanted to admit, especially because she’d hardly had the chance to enjoy his company as her boyfriend before they parted ways for the summer.
Even Cole and Diana, Anne’s best friends from Hogwarts, weren’t entirely cut off to magic. Both were from magical families - Diana was from a distinguished pureblood family, and Cole’s mother (and two siblings) were witches and wizards. Of course, no underage students could use actual magic, technically speaking, but she knew that Cole and Gilbert definitely got away with doing it on occasion. There were no wizards that Anne knew of in Avonlea, and she knew if she attempted intentional magic, the Ministry would know it was her - and she’d be expelled. Cole and Gilbert were certainly both using their brooms at least (which was allowed out of sight of Muggles), and would probably both be much more practiced for the Quidditch season than she was, Anne thought grumpily.
Their Ordinary Wizarding Level results had arrived in July. Anne and Gilbert tied for the top marks, getting an Outstanding on nine each (all except Divination for Anne, and Herbology for Gilbert, but neither of them wanted to continue taking those anyway). Diana and Cole both got seven, and even Charlie scraped by with a solid five, according to Cole’s letter. Anne was excited for this year - sixth years had much more free time, and more demanding classes too. They’d surely be working on more interesting things this year.
Anne arrived at the edge of the Lake of Shining Waters, a wide, reflective lake that she’d named upon her arrival in Avonlea. She sat and stared for a while, thinking about Hogwarts and Gilbert and Green Gables. Her mind wandered to her parents - her biological parents. Anne always felt a slight twinge of guilt when she wondered about them. She loved the Cuthberts dearly, but her parents had been wizards like her. That was all she really knew about them. They would understand everything about her, her entire world, in a way that she knew that Marilla and Matthew could not, try as they might.
It didn’t matter though. The Cuthberts were her family, as true as anything. Anne rarely thought back to her time before Green Gables anymore. She had been in an orphanage since she was a baby, and had never been so companionless as she had in those painfully long years of her youth. The Hopetown asylum was not a tolerant place, especially for mischief-makers. And although Anne was not one, she was still a witch. She couldn’t control her magic, and she had always been quite emotional. There had been several incidents over the years, all of which branded her as a freak among the other girls.
They teased and insulted her relentlessly, and Anne’s emotional flare-ups nearly always resulted in accidental magic. The first time it happened was when she was six. They had decided on Anne’s least favorite target - her red hair, which was even more orangey back then. The insults that they hurled at her still echoed in Anne's mind sometimes.
But when they approached her, trying to tug at her hair, to push her down - her skin had burned hot. They recoiled at the touch, alarmed. Her hair was practically flaming, and her tears sizzled on her cheeks. These sorts of occurrences continued on and off for years, and half the girls in the orphanage were terrified of Anne, and the rest of them hated her strangeness. She was luckier than most, though. Some girls never made it out of Hopetown.
Edmund soared down beside Anne, pecking sharply at her and interrupting her from her thoughts.
“Ouch,” Anne said irritably. She realized what he was trying to express - the sun had nearly set over the trees. “You’re right - I’m going, I’m going.”
As Anne moved to get up, she heard a shuffling and a snapping sound in the trees, far to her right, just at the lake’s edge. She froze for several moments. The sky was getting darker and darker, and Anne strained her eyes, but couldn’t see into the shadowy trees. She reached her hand instinctually for her wand, only to realize that she didn’t have it with her.
Feeling very vulnerable, Anne stood shakily, but no other sounds came. She brushed the dirt off her clothes and Edmund fluttered up to her shoulder. Anne waited for a few more seconds, but only sensed the cool breeze off the lake and the muted chirping of the birds at night.
She huffed but turned, walking briskly back to Green Gables. She was always supposed to be back by sunset, and by now the sun was definitely gone, and pinpricks of starlight were emerging in the sky in its stead. Anne wasn’t far from home, but she hastened on the way back, already imagining Marilla’s austere face greeting her at the door.
Sure enough, when Green Gables came into view, Marilla was standing outside, silhouetted by the porchlight. Her arms were folded and her lips were pressed tightly together. Edmund flew straight up to her open window as she approached the house.
“Coward,” Anne muttered at him as he went, escaping Marilla’s wrath.
“Well, I’m glad you finally decided to come home,” Marilla said, putting a stern hand behind Anne’s back and steering her inside.
“I’m sorry, Marilla, I didn’t mean to,” Anne began, realizing that she had no excuse other than her dreaminess for why she had been late.
“Do you ever pull your head out of the clouds, Anne?” Marilla said strictly. “We were worried!”
“I didn’t mean to!” Anne repeated. “I lose track of time.”
“Well,” Marilla said harshly, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to extract a better answer. “Post arrived for you.”
Anne’s eyes darted to the sight of Rory, Gilbert’s screech owl, perched by the window. “Gilbert wrote?”
Marilla held the letters out of reach when Anne reached forward. “Your school letter as well. Up to bed. You can read them tomorrow.”
“Marilla!”
“Anne, perhaps if you had heeded our one rule, then you would be permitted to read them, but it’s late now. You should be getting to sleep,” Marilla said.
Anne looked longingly at Gilbert’s scrawled handwriting on the letter in Marilla’s hand, but reluctantly marched upstairs to sleep. She changed and readied herself for bed quickly, stomping into her room.
Edmund clicked cheerfully at her.
“What are you so happy about,” Anne muttered in annoyance, but stepped forward to stroke his feathers before falling into her bed. Wondering distantly about the letter, Anne allowed herself to drift off, the thought of leaving for school in only a few short weeks at the front of her mind.
Anne could hear the clattering of plates and dishes when she clambered down the stairs the next morning. Matthew was at the table, glasses perched on his nose, reading the paper.
“Good morning, Matthew!” Anne greeted him cheerfully, heading straight to the kitchen. He gave her a happy nod in response.
Anne eyed the letters on the counter as she crossed the kitchen, where Marilla was cooking breakfast already. The stack had an added third letter, and Anne whirled around. Where Rory had stood the night before, Adelia was perched, flapping her white wings. Diana had written too!
“Honestly, Anne, won’t you control these things!” Marilla scolded distastefully as she eyed Diana’s owl.
Anne strode over to Adelia, who nipped at her finger playfully. “She’s just resting a bit before she flies back to Diana’s,” she said, looking fondly at the snowy owl.
“This is not an owlery!” Marilla exclaimed, throwing a look at Anne.
“Around the back, my window is open,” Anne whispered to Adelia, who set off out the kitchen window. She stepped sneakily towards the letters as Marilla’s back turned to scrape some eggs onto three plates.
“Anne - set the table first. And wash your hands, after you’ve touched that bird!”
Anne rolled her eyes and scrubbed her hands clean, carried utensils out to the table, and helped Marilla finish bringing the rest of breakfast out to the table.
“Can I read them now?” she requested.
“Er - fine ,” Marilla said as she headed to the table.
Gleefully, Anne seized the letters and sat at the table across from Matthew. She decided to open her school letter first, which bore the Hogwarts seal and McGonagall’s emerald green writing.
Dear Ms. Shirley,
Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King’s Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o’clock.
A list of books for next year is enclosed.
Yours sincerely,
Professor M. McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Anne folded this letter, and pulled out the booklist underneath, printed with the books she would need for the year:
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6 by Miranda Goshawk
Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage
Dark Arts for the Accomplished Studentby Daphne Greengrass
A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
Advanced Rune Translation by Yuri Blishen
Flesh-Eating Trees of the World
Please note that all students fourth year and above should also bring dress robes or similar for school this year.
Anne grinned down at the paper, folding it up and stowing it securely in the envelope. Soon she would be back in Diagon Alley, seeing all of her friends again to buy her school books for the year.
Diana’s and Gilbert’s letters were left. She thought for a moment, and decided to open Gilbert’s first. It had been at least a month since he had written to her, and maybe she would have worried if it wasn’t him. Tracking him down was half the trouble - Edmund always looked especially tired when he made it back to Green Gables after delivering Anne’s letters - last she’d heard, he and his father were in Egypt.
Anne,
Sorry for the late response. We’re in Romania right now - my dad has a friend here who works with dragons. They’re huge - one nearly singed my arm off - but they’re amazing. There are loads of other types of beasts here, although Dad reckons some of them are being bred illegally, which apparently happens a lot here. I’ve heard about manticores and basilisks - I wish you could see all of this stuff. Hagrid would have a field day here.
It’s too bad you can’t ride a broom over the summer, but just remember that you went a couple years without riding one, and you were still one of the best flyers at school last year. But don’t expect any easy wins against Gryffindor this year - you got lucky at our last game. I've been planning plays all summer, so game on, Shirley.
We’re heading home now. I’ll be back in time to stop in Diagon Alley a week before the start of school. I hope we can meet there. I miss you.
Yours,
Gilbert
Anne read his letter twice, grinning, before opening Diana’s. It was in a small envelope, and when she unraveled it she smiled at the contrast between the two letters - Diana’s penmanship was perfect, especially in comparison to Gilbert’s hurried scrawl.
Dear Anne,
I miss you so! The last month has been dreadful. Minnie May is learning the violin, and the sound makes me want to claw my eyes out. Mother insists that she practice every night, and I think my ears are still ringing.
Did you get your school letter yet? Mine arrived just now - did you see that we’re meant to bring dress robes? Maybe there will be another ball this year. Either way, I’ll be elated to be back in the Ravenclaw tower again, where no one plays the violin horridly each night. Except Charlie, but that was one time.
I’ve been pestering my parents all summer, and they’ve agreed to let you visit for the last week of vacation if you can! I wanted to invite Cole as well, but they’re a bit more wary of having a boy stay in the house (although we both know there’s no need to worry there). Ask your parents if you can - send Adelia back with your response as soon as possible. If you can, we can meet you in Diagon Alley a week before school begins, and you can stay until we leave for Hogwarts.
Your most kindred friend,
Diana
“Anything interesting?” Matthew asked politely, his eyes still scanning the paper.
“Nothing,” Anne said, hurriedly scooting Gilbert’s letter under the one from school. “Well - except Diana wrote. She wants me to stay with her the week before school begins - after we visit Diagon Alley.”
Marilla looked pensive, and Anne plastered her most hopeful smile onto her face.
“I don’t see why not,” Matthew said before Marilla could respond, looking up at her with a cheery smile.
“Thank you, thank you!” Anne said, leaping up to kiss him on the cheek and hug Marilla.
“Fine,” Marilla agreed. “But we’re bringing you to Diagon Alley next week. And clean out that room of yours, those owls have made a right mess.
“Of course, Marilla,” Anne said brightly. She couldn’t have been happier to obey Marilla’s orders, for once.