They insisted it was just a phase. Mister and Missus Thomas Andrews were so confident that the dress-wearing and attention to her older sister's Barbie dolls was just a phase that their "boy" was going through. And with the odd things happening around the house, they frankly didn't have time to concern themselves with the odd behavior of their younger child. Not when perfectly new light bulbs burst their fuses within twenty minutes, or when their dog would mysteriously find itself up on the roof and yelp until its rescue.

The fact was that their son, the unfortunately named Andrew Andrews, was not an Andrew at all. She was a Lily, and she had known this for years upon years. When she tried to tell her family, they put it to the back burner. After all, it must have been just some kind of long-running phase that would sort itself out in due time, right? But Lily Andrews was also a witch. She was a witch born to two non-magical parents and with a non-magical sister. This girl was indeed in a special class.

Lily and her family lived in a lovely little village in the New England region of the United States. She went to elementary school at a normal, everyday public school, where she quickly learned that in order to avoid bullies, she would have to do her best to talk and act like one of the boys. After all, being called a "girly boy' would be something that could get her stuffed into her locker. And so she lived as Andrew, never daring to present herself as anyone else.

And yet, she always found solace as she walked along the winding embankment right across the street from her house. The small bank led down to a cozy river that was just the right temperature in the summertime. She would take those long walks down to the water's edge with her dog and watch the happy puppy splash and run after the ducks and geese. It was there that she could take a nice deep breath and color her world the way she wanted. She would sing, she would dance, and she would just be Lily.

And yet, when she finished elementary school and was preparing for junior high, a funny letter came in the mail. It was addressed to Lily Andrews in deep blue ink. Unfortunately for Lily, her father had spotted it first and had immediately torn it up and threw it into the recycling. That night, when everyone was asleep, she crept down into the empty recycling and fished out the torn up letter. She put the ripped pieces together and, with the help of a flashlight, read the sparkling blue words.

Dear Lily Andrews,

Although we, the Board of Regents at the Salem Witches' Institute, are impressed by your display of magic and your potential as a young witch...

Lily paused. She couldn't believe the words she was reading. Wasn't she weird enough in the eyes of everyone else? Now this place was saying she was a witch? Sure there were a few times she had accidentally set the carpet on fire or locked her parents out of the house without touching the door, but that was only when she was mad at them for saying that "only Nancies wear dresses!" Surely that wasn't anything... witchy? But still, she read on.

"... we regret to inform you that you will not be entering our roll, as we are a females only school, and cannot accept someone with male anatomy. Though we are sure you feel female, even witches and wizards must act in our students best interests.

We have recommended a counselor to your parents so that you may learn to control your magical outbursts. We would like to wish you the best of luck in all of your future endeavors.

Yours very sincerely,

Sarah Osborne

Secretary for the Board of Regents, Salem Witches' Institute

Well, thought Lily with a bite of sarcasm, all's well that ends well. She didn't want to admit that her heart started to flutter at the thought of attending a school for witches, but it's funny how the words "regret to inform you" can turn one's stomach upside down in a matter of seconds.

And so, Lily Andrews put the letter back into the recycling and headed back to her bedroom. It wasn't until she was in bed and looking out at the stars that a certain something crossed her mind...

How the heck did they know she liked to be called Lily?

Ann Foster was a witch that was absolutely set in her ways. She was named after her distant relative that survived the Salem Witch trials in 1692 by using the Confundus charm on her jailer. And, much like her distant relative, Ann Foster didn't tolerate nonsense. So when the name Lily Andrews came up on the roster scroll for the upcoming year with an asterisk next to her name, Ann Foster decided to investigate.

After doing a little digging (after all, it wasn't very hard to gather information when you had an all-knowing scroll in front of you), Professor Foster found the label "transgender girl" in association with this potential new pupil. She wasn't really sure what it meant, but living in an America that was thoroughly immersed in a sensational media, she had a vague idea of "trannies" and "Transylvanian transvestites" or whatever Hollywood was going on about in those days.

Professor Foster had just approved the rejection letter and was about to read an article about some person named "RuPaul" when a crack came from her fireplace. She spun and looked over to the crackling fire, only to see the illuminated face of Minerva McGonagall, the newly installed Headmistress of Hogwarts School.

"It's awfully late to have a chat, don't you think, Minerva?"

The witch in the fireplace nodded curtly but would not be swayed that easily. "Indeed it is, but I've received word that you did something unthinkable and turned down a student!"

Foster let out a sigh. "Alright... won't you come in for coffee, or tea, or whatever it is you drink?"

She back to her desk to fold up the magazine article, and a louder crack signaled the entrance of the Hogwarts Headmistress.

"Tea. One sugar, no milk please," began McGonagall. "Now, please enlighten me, Ann. Why in the name of all that is right would you ever reject a student that has magical ability? It is NOT our role to play judge, jury and executioner of one's dreams."

"Let me stop you there, Minerva," said her American counterpart. "This 'girl' is not a girl at all. You know the Salem Witches' Institute to be a females only school since it's establishment. The fact is, even though she's called 'Lily' on the scroll, she was born as a man and can go to the Weiss-Presley School of Wizardry."

"it's just not that simple, Ann," explained McGonagall as she took the teacup hovering near her armrest and lightly took a sip. "The sex of a student doesn't matter. It's the gender – no, Ann, they're NOT the same thing. If she feels to be a girl, who are we to tell her any differently? Allow her to discover her path on her own in a nurturing, safe environment with support."

"I'm afraid the letter has already been sent. Now if Weiss-Presley-"

"She will NOT attend a school for boys. And I believe it was Presley himself who said, albeit with a love charm belt, 'Truth is like the sun. You can shut it out for a time, but it isn't going away.' Her truth is that she's a female and she belongs with others like her."

"Well there's nothing I can do now, Minerva," insisted Foster. "The letter has been sent!"

"Fine," snapped McGonagall as she dismissed her tea. "If you are so blinded by your prejudice against a student that just wants to feel like she belongs, she will have a home at Hogwarts – even if I have to teach her myself!"

The Hogwarts Headmistress rose and made her way to the fireplace and scooped a bit of Floo powder into her hand.

"Oh, and Minerva... whatever happened to... well, Severus Snape?"

"He's buried in Godric's Hollow beside Lily and James Potter." Foster nodded.

"Hogwarts Headmistress's Office!"

In the morning, Lily Andrews would receive a new letter in glowing green ink, but until then, her dreams carried her to a place where she could feel pretty and have long hair and wear a beautiful, flowing dress.