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Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall sat at her desk at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She was a thin woman, in her mid sixties, and dressed in a green tartan plaid dress. Her dark hair was pulled neatly back into a bun, and her rectangular shaped spectacles sat squarely on her face adding to her serious expression. Parchment and scrolls lay neatly stacked upon her desk, along with two bottles of ink and two quills. In addition to her deputy headmistress duties, she taught transfiguration and served as the Head of Gryffindor House. She was an unerringly tidy and strict woman, who enjoyed teaching and found she had a knack for paperwork even if she did not always care to do it. Over her many years of teaching she had grown fond of several students, and always enjoyed seeing her former Gryffindor students at the school or while out in the wizarding world. Her warm, hazel eyes reviewed the notes before her and added some additional notes at the end. She kept a meticulous schedule, writing in appointments and additional notes to make her often hectic schedule easier. As such, she had begun to notice a troubling trend regarding one particular appointment. She now knew the problem had not just existed for the last several months, but had apparently gone on for years, unnoticed by her, and the thought bothered her greatly.

With a sigh, she carefully dried the ink on her new notes, and then placed the notes to the side of her desk. This September, Harry Potter would beSchool of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As overseeing

the letters sent to each student regarding the

coming year was one of her responsibilities, she

knew that Harry Potter's Hogwarts letter would be

going out soon, and she wondered about how well

the young man was doing at his relatives home.

Albus had dismissed her concerns that day nearly

ten years ago, insisting that they leave young Harry

Potter at his muggle relatives' home. Minerva

had not been impressed with them, and had

questioned Albus over the years as to how Harry

was doing. He always insisted the boy was doing well. Minerva wanted to confirm this for herself. She looked back down at the papers on her desk. Apparently, she had meant to check on young Harry multiple times as reflected by her old calendars and notes, and each time something had prevented her from following through with it. The notes she had reviewed yet again documented her musings about that, and she had finally acknowledged that perhaps Albus had done something to cause that particular reaction. What she did not understand, was why? Why would someone not want her to check in on the child? This time, she intended to follow through on her desire to check on Harry Potter. A knock sounded at her door interrupting her thoughts, and she smiled at her own cunning plan to circumvent whatever it was that prevented her from traveling to Surrey.

"Come in, Septima," she called pleased as the young Arithmancy professor entered the room. Minerva had spoken to her several weeks ago to set this appointment, and was pleased that phase one of her plan was now proceeding.

a different harry potter

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Chapter 30 is of the next story in whicb the things are off to a rather ominous start, despite it's peaceful setting, have fun and enjoy.

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Yawning and stretched as she stepped before the mirror, now twelve year old Amara Jackson smiled as she began brushing her hair. Tall for her age, Amara kept her black hair at shoulder length, still curly and in fact getting even curlier. Her black eyes danced with delight as the skinny brown skinned girl finished getting ready. She was all dressed and prepared for the day. It was still the summer holidays but it wouldn't be too much longer before she was heading back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for her second year. She wondered if it would be as dramatic and dangerous as her first.

'Well, here we go, gonna go and have breakfast and then, as arranged, we'll be going to Jeff's for the rest of the summer, his mom even has plans to take us to Diagon Alley after we get our letters. She reflected.

Smoothing down her dark pink knee length smart dress she knelt down to pull up her snowy white socks which had slipped down slightly. Finally adding the simple black flats to complete her look she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Her mother Caulette was there, smiling as she had already began her breakfast, looking like an older version of Amara, with her hair as a haze of ringlets, Caulette smiled as her daughter.....

chapter30:-the missing keys