“You have to go. You’re the only person here besides Professor Snape with the proper training, and he’s busy with another assignment at the moment.”

Dumbledore then grabbed both shoulders, looked deep into her eyes and said, “This is very important. Just think of all the pain and suffering you can alieve with a potion made from heart of the kapok tree.”

The shoulders beneath his hands sagged and he knew those words weaked her resolve. He turned to go.

“Oh yes, one last thing.”

“Yes?”

“Keep an eye out for the magic in the jungle.” With a twinkle and a wink of the eye he exited the room.

“What!!! Wait!!!” she yelled loudly as the headmaster’s pale-blue summer robes disappeared behind the closing door, “There is no magical forest in Costa Rica!”

***

Squish. “Bloody luck, not again,” she groaned as she found herself ankle deep in mud, “that’s the second pair of boots this trip.”

Behind her there was a small giggle. “Maybe you should’ve brought three,” the child said, never looking up from her task. The girl, on hands and knees, was inspecting, of all things, ants. Granted, the four inch wide ant trail winding through the rainforest seemed to go on for miles, but other than that it was quite uninteresting.

“Oh, but you’re wrong. These ARE quite interesting.”

The woman’s body jerked visibly. “Did I just say that out loud,” she wondered? “I’m sure I didn’t. But how did the child know what I was thinking?”

Her limited experience with Muggle children didn’t help. Was this normal?

The girl continued, “I think it’s cool how the ants can carry a leaf bigger than they are. And that’s not even the neatest part. See this littler ant riding on the top of the leaf; he’s the lookout. Warns them about danger and stuff like that.”

Closer inspection revealed the child was right. The woman was about to ask more, but the loud screech made by a bird flying overhead interrupted. A feather from the bird slowly fluttered down and lodged itself beneath a tightly packed cluster of vines.

Immediately the child’s entire body, except for a pair of feet, disappeared as she dived under the layer of vines and twigs. Her long, curly hair tangled in the undergrowth as she reached for the feather. Kicking her feet around while distractedly yanking the errant hair away from its snare, she skidded in more and completely disappeared from view. A disembodied voice said, “This is so cool. I’ve never seen one of these before. Never. If I could just reach it, dad could tell me what species it’s from. He knows everything.”

Because she’d heard that same screech many times while passing the owlery, the woman knew what bird left the feather. She also knew the owl would have a letter from Dumbledore.

“I’ve got to get away from here,” she thought, “If that girl tells her daddy that I got a letter delivered by an owl, I’ll have a lot of explaining to do.”

Just as she was trying to devise a way to get away, the girl was back, featherless. “Do you hear that?”

“No. What am I listening for, a howler monkey?”

“The wind,” the girl said as she ran to stand on a fallen tree trunk and pointed into the distance, “I love to watch it come.”

Starting far away, the treetops gave into the greater force acting on them. The ripple effect on so much foliage was fascinating, but nature’s performance right in front of her was even more so. Sunlight reflected through the leaves, outlining their tiny shadows across the girl’s body. When the wind arrived, it blew the shadows in all different directions; creating a kaleidoscope effect on the little body.

Overcome with curiosity about the child, the woman asked, “What’s your name?”

After giving an assessing look while seeming to decide something, the girl smiled and responded, “My friends call me Penny. What’s yours?”

“It’s P…” the woman started but was interrupted as a letter dropped into the girl’s hands, much to both the amazement of both females.

Miss Penelope Clearwater…

“Accio Feather. Well Penny,” the woman said, presenting the feather to the child, “The students call me Madam Pomfrey.”