"This is really important," you say, holding Justine's gaze steadily with your own. "If the wrong people found out what you could do, then they might hurt you. Or they might hurt other people with magic."
"Like in Harry Potter?" she ventures. "Muggles and the Statute of Secrecy?"
"Exactly like that!" you confirm. And then, you add hastily, "Okay, not exactly. There isn't a Ministry of Magic, and there isn't a special school." You really don't want Justine running into the forest to chase down owls, looking for her letter telling her that she's gotten into Hogwarts. "But it's the same kind of thing. You have to keep your abilities secret so that you'll be safe, and so other people won't be scared."
Through it all, Justine listens.
There's a different look in her eyes by the end: thoughtful and earnest. The glittery bravado is gone, but so is the terror. She's calm now and very serious.
You think back to that first day: the way Justine's parents talked about her as if she couldn't take care of herself, as if she were fragile and delicate. Sure, she's just a kid, but even kids can think big thoughts, and even kids can understand big ideas. Nobody's ever given Justine that kind of chance before.
Until you.
"Okay," she says at the end, very quietly. "I understand. Is it…is it okay if I think some more about this?"
"Take all the time you want," you reassure her. "This is something you should think hard about."
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