Wherein the Muggleborn Liaison Brings in the Big Guns Abigail Quincy Tellerman stood before a front door belonging to people she had never met before. She knew nothing about the owners of the house except they had received the same pamphlet of paper she had some dozen or so years ago. The difference, however, was that these people didn't work with a stage magician who happened to also be a real wizard, and had nobody to consult about the strange correspondence and the odd person delivering it.
Instead they tried to arrest the messenger.
Truthfully, she probably would have sympathized with them a lot more if that messenger hadn't been her son.
It was fair to say, though, that her first thought back then was that Sonora Academy was a hoax, and the strange man trying to tell her about it had seemed like some kind of conman at best or child abductor at worst, and if she hadn't had Simon to go to, she couldn't have sworn she wouldn't have reacted similarly. Sullivan knew this and that was why she was standing here now.
She was a muggle. She was a parent of a wizard. She knew exactly what kinds of worries and concerns had prompted the legal action against the muggleborn liaison that was supposed to help them learn about an entirely impossible world an accident of genetics meant their daughter suddenly had access to. So she was here to help explain it in a way a young wizard bachelor who had been raised surrounded by magic since he was eleven years old never could. Sullivan might have been born to muggles, but he wasn't one anymore, and hadn't been for more than half of his life now.
The only wands Abigail had ever touched were the ones owned by her son or husband, if they left them lying on the table while she was cleaning up dinner. She was a muggle and always would be, even if she had married into a semi-magical family since discovering magic was not just a thing of fiction.
The door opened and the man on the other side looked at her in confusion and distrust. "Who are you?"
"My name is Abigail. Abigail Tellerman," she answered. "I want to talk to you about Sonora Academy."
His brow furrowed further in confusion. "About what?"
"Sonora Academy," she repeated, leaving out any mention of magic for now, so as not to scare him off before she had a chance to make her pitch. "Its a private boarding school for talented young people, starting at age eleven. They have received your daughter's transcript and are interested in having her apply." This might not be strictly true, but she didn't know that it wasn't, and it sounded less creepy than any other way she could think of to bring up the wizarding world's interest in their little girl.
The man's expression was still guarded, but he seemed mildly intrigued now. "A boarding school?" he repeated doubtfully. "I don't think we are interested in-"
"This is a very exclusive school. Very few children are invited," she pressed. "Your daughter has a very exceptional gift."
He seemed pleased in spite of himself but he still wasn't buying it. "We are very proud of her achievements, but we don't want to send her to live somewhere else. A child should be raised with her parents. Good night."
Abigail suppressed the urge to vocalize her frustration as he closed the door in her face, but there wasn't anything further she could do without putting him more on the defensive, so she walked away, pulling out her phone and calling her son. "Sorry, hon," she said as soon as he answered. "I tried. I didn't even get to the magic part. They don't even like the idea of a boarding school."
Sullivan sighed. "Thanks, Mom. You went above and beyond."
"Sorry I couldn't help you make contact."
"No, really, it's okay. This was a long-shot anyway. Thanks for trying."