Chapter Text
Long before Jackie Taylor is old enough for Hogwarts, she’s already decided that she wants to continue her family’s legacy as one of the greatest Gryffindor dynasties in history.
She decides that for Shauna, too. Shauna Shipman, her best friend and next door neighbor since they were in diapers. Their mothers had achieved one of those teenage girl dreams that most thought of but rarely ever accomplished. After graduating school, they grew up together, got married and pregnant at the same time, and now raise their kids to be just as much best friends as they were back then.
Despite that, Shauna is quite different from Jackie. She isn’t quite as set on going into Gryffindor as her. While Jackie believes that Ravenclaw is complicated, Hufflepuff is boring, and Slytherin is just plain evil – Shauna thinks that Ravenclaw has commendable intelligence, Hufflepuff shows pure goodness, and Slytherin is just as successful with their ambition. Eventually, though, Jackie gets to her. She decides that with Shauna, they will grow the fame of the Taylor’s name among the Wizarding World and finally have the Shipman’s recognized. And it all starts with getting into Gryffindor.
They’re having a slumber party one night when Jackie explains this plan of hers. Shauna is wrapped in blankets, only half-listening as she rambles on. Instead, her mind is elsewhere. Jackie’s room had been practically transformed overnight since she’d been over for dinner the previous night. Scarlet banners hang overhead, bunny decorations have been transfigured into lions, and gold adorns the walls. It’s so different from the pink, cutesy room she had visited the previous night; it almost looks like a Gryffindor dorm. Shauna looks around in awe, wondering how someone can be so set for something so easy and quick.
“Just imagine it,” She says. “Jackie Taylor. Gryffindor head girl and Quidditch captain. And you too, Shauna Shipman ,” – Jackie says it with a different, specific cadence, slower and ever-so-slightly pitched down like she’s cherishing each syllable – “star student, with an Outstanding on every test!”
Shauna just smiles, nodding along.
That’s when they’re seven. It only gets worse from there. Jackie starts obsessing over some team, the Holyhead Harpies. Her plan expands – Gryffindor Quidditch team by 2nd year (at most ), captain as soon as she’s eligible to do so, and then immediately making the Harpies once she graduates. Most of the players are Gryffindors, and they’re all women, so it’s only more motivation for her. In fact, Jackie follows Gryffindor like a religion ; she befriends all the kids in their neighborhood and converts them into Gryffindor devotees. She even convinces this pair of boys their age, Jeff and Randy – though Shauna thinks they only agree because Jackie is pretty. At such a young age, the boys already have wandering eyes.
Meanwhile, Shauna isn’t even sure she’ll get an acceptance letter. While Jackie’s been showing signs of magic since she was four, with tiny sparks when she snaps and transforming food and accidentally turning invisible every now and then, Shauna’s convinced she might be a squib. They’re ten when Jackie produces an actual spell, a translucent bubble forming a protective barrier from the rain after she buys a new pair of shoes one day. Meanwhile, Shauna is turning eleven next month, and hasn’t even done anything as simple as a levitation gimmick.
It shouldn’t be such a bother to her, but with all of Jackie’s plans sounding so far away now that there’s a chance that Shauna might not even be magic at all , it has her nervously breaking down the night before her birthday. Unfortunately for her, her bed is situated right by a window, and across from it is Jackie’s own room in the neighboring house. Jackie spots her sobbing into a pillow that day and is climbing up the Shipman house’s stairs in a flash.
There’s not even a knock on the door before Jackie enters. She just barges in, interrupting Shauna mid-sob. Shauna, who freezes, hesitantly lifting her puffy face with bloodshot eyes from the tear-stained surface of her pillowcase.
“Jax…?” She frowns. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing crying?” Jackie returns, voice stern as she takes a seat on Shauna’s bed, making sure to kick off her shoes before doing so because she knows how much Shauna hates it.
Shauna pauses, chewing on her cheek, too hesitant to answer. Jackie only inches forward, pressing further – “What’s going on, Shauna?”
“It’s nothing,” she lies, obvious to both of them. Shauna knows she’s lying because she’s her , obviously, the one thinking these thoughts and doing the lying .
But Jackie knows she’s lying because she knows Shauna. She memorizes the way her eyebrows furrow when she isn’t telling the truth, pushing together in an almost hopeful look – possibly mistaken for frustration or anger or sadness or anything else if you didn’t know Shauna like Jackie does – that her lie will slip past. Jackie knows that Shauna’s eyes flick upward when the thought being produced is anything but the truth; when she’s actually thinking of the answer, her gaze moves downward, eyelids nearly closed shut. Her lips are pursed. Tense, waiting for Jackie to buy into the lie. Despite all of these things she knows, becoming practically a human lie detector when it comes to her best friend, what she doesn’t know is why her best friend would ever feel the need to withhold the truth.
Jackie reaches for Shauna’s hand, grabbing it tight. She gives it a reassuring squeeze, then another two. With her voice lowered, not because this is a secret to be ashamed of, but because these words will always be meant for Shauna and Shauna only, Jackie whispers – “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, you know that right?”
Again, Shauna only nods. “I know,” she replies curtly, and doesn’t say anything else.
She doesn’t even need to ask for Jackie to sleep with her that night. Jackie sees the look on their face and just knows, and Deborah Shipman is unsurprised to find two girls in Shauna’s bed the next morning instead of one.
When morning comes, Jackie is bounding up, shaking with excitement like it’s her own special day. Shauna on the other hand is groaning as she’s forced to get out of bed at the rotten hour of 8 AM in the morning. Jackie tugs them both downstairs and they eat a hearty breakfast of shared chocolate chip pancakes as the rest of the Taylors enter through the front door.
It seems Jackie is much more excited for the day than Shauna is. She’s piling up presents in front of her, while Shauna is still moving around groggily and recovering from the post-crying session exhaustion. Still, she complies to satisfy her best friend. As soon as they’re done eating, Shauna gets to the gifts. Her own parents get her two books – a diary enchanted to never run out of paper, and Lord of the Flies, a muggle book she’s been wanting lately. Mr. and Mrs. Taylor provide a much more expensive gift, the latest Firebolt, and while Shauna is extremely grateful, she’s not much a fan of the sport and might even prefer the muggle book more. Not that she says this. From all over the neighborhood, Shauna gets a menagerie of presents, ranging from boxes of Every Flavor jelly beans to Remembralls.
But it’s Jackie’s gift that’s the best. At first, it’s confusing. Two identical mirrors? Shauna doesn’t need to see her reflection twice. Then, Jackie shows her the true magic of it. She runs out with one of the mirrors, and Shauna spots her through the window, pointing it at her face. Down on the table, through her own mirror, Jackie is smiling at her.
“Wicked, right?” Jackie grins, running back inside and throwing her arms over Shauna.
“Holy crap, Jax.” Shauna returns the hug. “How’d you even do that?”
“Two-way mirror. Dad helped make it.”
Shauna pulls away, turning from Jackie and holding the mirror up to her face. She hears Jackie echo the movement behind her, and with a shimmering sound, Jackie’s face replaces the reflection in the glass. Shauna marvels, jaw hanging open as she continues staring at the gift in absolute awe. It’s almost like a video call.
In fact, she doesn’t even notice the approaching hooting sound nor the scraping of talons knocking at their window. It’s only when Jackie’s face tilts away and slowly pulls from her mirror’s view that Shauna decides to look up.
There’s a large, scruffy brown owl perched on the windowsill. It has piercing yellow eyes, a tilted round head, and a letter pinned between its hooked beak. The red wax seal on it is vibrant, recognizable from even a mile away. Before Shauna approaches, everyone already knows what the letter will say inside:
Dear Ms. Shipman,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Shauna’s standing in the middle of the living room, her face frozen in shock. On her face is a completely stunned look. Just the night before, she’d been worrying about never even achieving the simplest of magic spells. Today lies in her hands the acceptance letter to the school of witchcraft and wizardry .
The adults celebrate in hearty laughs all around her. Shauna is still stunned into silence. But Jackie, Jackie is loud. Cheering. Never having sounded more happy. Arms are being thrown around her neck, wrapping around her, pulling her close. Jackie’s face is pressed to her shoulder. Laughing, right by her ear. A beautiful sound.
Shauna Shipman is going to Hogwarts.
Jackie gets her letter not long after, the day of her birthday too, in June. The celebration is grand, making Shauna’s day seem like a miniscule family get together in comparison. There are at least sixty people flooding the Taylor mansion, all of them present to see the grand, snowy white owl fly through the upper balcony and into the main space with a Hogwarts letter in tow. Jackie almost opens it right there, the letter opener in her mother’s ready hands as she runs her fingers across the wax seal. But the pressure of a million eyes is forced down on her, and Jackie really only cares about two – big brown doe eyes waiting somewhere in the crowd. She decides that she doesn’t want to share this moment full of people she barely knows or doesn’t know, so Jackie rids them of the satisfaction of reliving the time they had opened their acceptance letters. She tucks it in her pocket, and instead tells everyone that the party is over.
She and Shauna open the letter later that night, once everyone has left. They’re sprawled across the couch, legs tossed over one another, when Jackie cuts open the wax seal. She reads the letter and it’s exactly what they expect. Acceptance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Still, Jackie and Shauna squeal as though they had no idea, and spend the entire night talking.
Now that their future at Hogwarts is confirmed, Jackie has even more plans. She’s already thought of the perfect color scheme for their dorm room, pink and green. She wants to befriend everyone in Gryffindor, but even people in other houses too, except save for maybe Slytherin. When they head to Diagon Alley for school supplies next week, Jackie devises a plan in case they run into Jeff – ‘You’re Jeff, right? Your friend Randy told me that you asked him to ask me to ask Jackie if she likes you.’ – their neighbor who had gotten his letter a few weeks prior.
Turns out, they don’t run into Jeff, but while Jackie is with her father buying sets of robes, Shauna is at Flourish & Blotts picking up her schoolbooks. There, she runs into a girl reaching for the same book as her. She has dark, satiny skin and curls descending beautifully from her head. There’s a scowl on her face that grows into a similarly curious look Shauna has on when they lock eyes.
“Hi,” the girl greets, “I’m Taissa Turner.”
~~~~~
Out of all the reasons her father hated her, Natalie would never have assumed magic to be one.
Her 11th birthday is much like the rest. She wakes up to raised voices, whether her father yelling at her mother or her mother talking to the walls. Neither are good. She showers as quickly as possible, gets dressed, and slips out the window. Anywhere away from her house is comforting enough, so as long as the cops aren’t bastards for one day and listen to her pleas not to drive her home, Nat will be having a good day.
Green Day blasts through the earphones of her Walkman as she walks down the road – it’s the fifth repeat of Nimrod she’s listened to this week, because her father’s caught her sneaking out all five times and thus she’s been limited to his set of cassettes, which aren’t the best. At the end of the street she finds the only person she wants to spend her birthday with, Kevyn Tan. A mop of black hair sits atop of his head, overgrown bangs reaching past his eyebrows. He’s skinny, but trying to look cool with an early blooming emo phase that’s slowly influenced Nat – matching black nails, similarly dark and edgy wardrobes.
She pops out the cassette, tucking it into her pocket. She greets Kevyn with an outstretched hand. Nat expects something of the usual – Nirvana, Radiohead – but instead Kevyn places a mixtape in her palm. Scrawled in black Sharpie reads: happy bday nat .
Nat grins, holding it in her hands. “Thanks.”
Kevyn shrugs coyly, a little bashful all of the sudden. “Happy birthday.”
Together, they walk to the old playground far off the main road. No one dwells around there anymore, save for them. Nat listens to the mixtape on the way, a combination of odd music that Kevyn doesn’t typically listen to. Bowie. Queen. The Beatles. Beside her he walks, silent, but Nat can feel his gaze on her the entire time.
A car zooms past when they reach the playground, on a byroad dangerously close to the sand. As it drives along the curve, the sand rises up in a large cloud headed her way – Nat flinches away, but when her eyes crack open again, the cloud is gone. She frowns, pulling off her earphones in the middle of All The Young Dudes. Most of the equipment in the playground is broken. Rusted. The seesaw creaks with every minor movement. The slide leaves stains of red-brown after even only one use. The swingset is really the only safe surface. Kevyn and Nat take a seat, side-by-side, swinging gently with their knees bent to avoid skidding across the ground.
Then, Natalie hears a hoot.
And another.
And another.
Which is odd, considering how it’s late morning, the sun shining brightly above them.
Kevyn tenses with each sound, doing a bad job at pretending he doesn’t hear it. His lip is curled inward, clearly biting down. But his eyes are twinkling bright – he looks excited, like those characters in sitcoms Natalie sees, barely able to contain their smiles as they prepare a surprise party or some shit. She glances at Kevyn in annoyed confusion. He’s obviously hiding something, looking so… whimsical.
“What the hell is going on?” She asks.
An owl lands at her feet. It has a letter pinned between its beak, a red seal pressing it shut.
Nat jumps away. “What the hell ?”
Kevyn laughs. “Relax!”
She backs away to the poles of the swing set. Looking around, there are owls everywhere , each with a similar letter and red seal. In the trees. Walking across the sand. Scurrying across the road. A sedan comes to a halt as it nears, unable to pass through due to the sheer amount of birds littered across the asphalt. The driver peers out of the window, flashing Nat a confused look. She shrugs back, equally bewildered.
One owl, small and gray, with eyes too big for its body, flies over to Nat. She stumbles back, a flock parting as she steps, falling to the ground.
She flashes an alarmed look at Kevyn, who still sits by the swing, unphased. “Hello, dude?”
Kevyn shrugs. “I think you got mail.”
Her expression turns frustrated. “Really?”
Nat redirects her attention to the approaching owl. It really does seem harmless, just very insistent on giving her this damned letter. So she takes the damned letter. Immediately, the owls begin to flap away. Nat raises her hands in disbelief, watching them fly off. She sits back on the swing, tearing the paper open.
Dear Ms. Scatorccio,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Literally, what?
Kevyn looks at her expectantly. “So.”
“What is this crap, Kevyn?” She asks. “How did you even pull a prank this… huge?”
“It’s not a prank,” he says earnestly. Still, she doesn’t buy it. Why would she? “You’re a witch, Nat.”
“Are you censoring bitch? ”
“No.” He sighs. “Okay. Fine. Have you ever felt really angry or sad or any intense emotion, and have wished something… maybe bad. Like your mind wanders, and you just wish the ground would disappear and this asshole that’s pissing you off would just fall through? And then it just – poof – happens?”
Nat shrugs. She thinks back. When she was five, a boy named Will was picking on a girl for having her hair in pigtails. He was tugging on them, laughing when she would get yanked sidewards. He was practically dragging her around, cruel. Meanwhile, her teacher was doing nothing about it – just sitting on a chair, reading a book. So Natalie had thought of something bad. She wished the book would burst into flames and burn his hands right then and there. A blink, a flash, and it just had . Nat had laughed as it happened, just watching as her teacher got second degree burns on his palms. The office had called her parents immediately and her father had brought her home, looking genuinely horrified .
Reluctantly, she answers: “...yes.”
“That’s that. Magic.” Kevyn pushes off the ground, leaping back into a swing. “The cloud of sand that just disappeared earlier? It would’ve gotten all in your hair. You stopped it. Magic.”
“You’re full of crap.”
“I’m not,” he insists.
“No, you are . You’re insane!” She insists back, dropping the letter and heading off. On the way home, Natalie pops in the Green Day cassette, no matter how much she hates it.
When she arrives back home, Nat tries to sneak back into the back window of their trailer, only to find it locked. The front door is as well, along with every other entrance into the house. She’s locked outside.
Nat pounds on the door, slipping off her Walkman. She yells, begging to be let back in. Her father only replies in muffled replies – mostly about her deserving it, and that she never should’ve had snuck out in the first place. She cries. What is she supposed to do? She just called her only friend insane, and now she’s locked outside. She hasn’t eaten yet. Nat is thirsty. Starving. There’s nothing in these old jeans but a few dimes that won’t get her anywhere with prices these days. The sun continues rising, and it’s scorching hot at noon now. Burning heat casts a glow, with Nat going lightheaded as she sits by the front steps. Skin sticky with sweat. And then, as if it couldn’t get worse, another owl follows her out here.
“Not now,” Natalie says, choked out.
Another owl lands. Then another. Nat doesn’t want to read the fucking letter.
Then, an owl lands with food . A goddamn cheeseburger from McDonalds.
“What the hell?” She mutters to herself, reaching for it.
But this bird is playing games, it snags the burger away, holding it just away from reach. The other owls stare her down, and she understands the deal – read the letter equals get food.
“Dear Ms. Scatorccio,” she recites, flashing the owls a pointed look: hey, I’m reading it now, alright? “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Students shall be required to report to the Chamber of Reception upon arrival, the dates for which shall be duly advised. Please ensure that the utmost attention be made to the list of requirements attached herewith. We very much look forward to receiving you as part of the new generation of Hogwarts heritage.”
She gives the owls a tight smile. “Are we happy?”
They even nod in reply. The cheeseburger is tossed in front of her, and Nat eagerly takes it. She thanks the birds for the followup Sprite, too. It sounds a little insane to do this, but she chats with the owls as she eats. Mostly complaining about her father. More and more appear by the minute, eager to get a taste of conversation.
Then, the door slams open behind her. Wide eyes bulge out of their feathery heads. Nat flashes them a look: I know, right?
“What the fuck is this?” Derek Scatorccio demands, pulling Natalie up by the collar of her shirt. She stiffens, knowing better than to fight back. “Why the fuck are there so many birds?”
His ugly scowl and angry gaze lands on her. “You did this.”
“I didn’t,” she argues.
“You’re a sick freak. Just like your mother.” He snarls. “It was only a matter of time.”
Nat pales. “Mom is a witch?”
“ Don’t say that word!” He barks, pulling her inside and shoving her to the ground. Her father then moves past her, and for a moment she thinks it might be over.
Until he reemerges, shotgun heavy in his hands.
“Stop!” Nat flinches away, hands coming up to cover her face. She pulls herself into a ball on the ground. There’s no space. She can’t even run away.
When the gun rings in her ear, Natalie thinks she’s dead.
But she isn’t.
As the noise slowly dies down, she soon realizes that her heart is still beating – in fact, the thump-thump-thump is particularly loud in her ear. Her body is buzzing with adrenaline, but that’s still just sweat all over her body. Not blood. Not blood.
So what did he shoot?
Natalie opens her eyes and finds the door wide open again, three birds dead along the steps to their trailer. Her father stands by the doorway, chest rising up and down, shotgun in his grasp, murderous gaze in his eyes.
There’s a loud, screaming sound, and what happens next is a bit of a rush. Someone screams. It might be Nat. A large flash of red light takes over the room, and for a moment, she’s convinced that the gun has fired again – at her this time, and that’s just death and agony taking over her vision. She hears the large boom! of the gun again. This time, Natalie’s convinced it has to be her.
But again, a few minutes pass – she’s not dead. She hears someone else scream. It isn’t her this time. She’s backed up against the wall with her hands covering her mouth. A horrific sight is laid out in front of her: her father, head blasted off, the fired gun clattering to the ground by his side. His body is sprawled across the front steps, right next to the three animals he killed. He’s outside the trailer, crumpled up into a grotesque mess.
Her mother has fallen to her knees next to his corpse, sobbing and screaming. He must’ve fallen onto the gun and accidentally shot himself – but even when drunk, her father was no clumsy man. Natalie knows something must have pushed him. Someone.
But she also knows that she never got up from the ground.
Natalie remembers the magic. Red, sparkling lights. She’d done exactly what Kevyn had described – filled with an intense emotion, Nat had summoned magic to forsake those angering her.
With her father’s dead corpse laid in front of her, Natalie believes in magic.
~~~~~
Unlike most pureblood children, Taissa isn’t the most keen on making it to Hogwarts.
Of course, she knows she’ll pass ; she’s been showing signs of magic since birth, having a particular knack for Transfiguration. They have no reason not to accept her. In fact, when her entire 11th birthday passes without a Hogwarts letter, that’s when she’s shocked. Thankfully, it arrives just over a week later. But with Hogwarts not seeming like much of a rush to her just yet, they don’t go shopping for school supplies until late June.
It’s not that she isn’t eager to learn more about magic. Believe her, Tai is happy she isn’t a regular muggle – she couldn’t imagine living in a mundane world with only 9-5 jobs and sweaty ball games to keep each other entertained. Still, Hogwarts isn’t the most magical place on Earth either unlike how most wizards and witches say. She knows about the horrible maintenance, safety issues, (seriously, you get detention for sneaking out to the forest, then your detention takes place back in said forest? – not to mention the moving staircases…) and how there somehow manages to be a new life threatening situation every ten years. Tai has heard of better schools, like Beauxbatons in France – or even muggle schools titled the Ivy League. Harvard. Princeton. Yale.
So her only wish out of Hogwarts is to educate herself enough to change that. To graduate top of her class, maybe take a book or two out of the muggle government’s book, and fix her own world. Instead of jinxes and hexes, Taissa will be mastering memory charms and truth serums. She might just implement muggle systems too. They have a whole spectrum, she learns. Democracy is her favorite. Here, those in charge are determined by purity of blood.
Tai has fallen in love with how the muggles have devised a justice system, lawyers and judges and the entire concept of a court meeting. The Ministry of Magic just stuffs a potion down someone’s throat and wrongfully sends people to prison. But Tai is a witch, not a muggle, so she finds herself in a wizarding bookshop, not in Columbia’s waiting room.
There’s a girl standing right by the shelf of the last book on her list, so Tai just sort of hovers there, waiting for her to leave. She has dark brown hair tied into a ponytail, and unlike most people here, she wears relatively normal clothes – a flannel and jeans. She’s still, standing there with the weight of her body leaning onto one leg, just thinking.
“Excuse me,” she calls, but the girl must be lost in her thoughts. So instead, Taissa reaches over – and that’s when their hands collide, reaching for the same book.
Taissa turns, an annoyed expression on her face. Then, her gaze softening into a curious look as she meets the girl’s eyes. Deep, brown, a look of wonder. Her lips are parted open, like she’s halfway through deciding something to say. But nothing comes out. They just stare at one another, Tai’s brain calculating why she looks so familiar, and the gears in the girl’s head clearly cranking, but reaching nowhere.
So, she introduces herself first. She says her name.
In return – “Uh, yeah. I’m Shauna… Shipman.”
Shipman , that’s why she’s familiar; her father must’ve gone to school with Taissa’s mom, in Ravenclaw, just like her.
“Here,” Shauna hands her the book. It’s the last copy. “I’ll just get mine somewhere else. My friend Jackie probably has a copy at home, or…”
“Wait, like Jackie Taylor?”
Shauna looks like she wants to roll her eyes. “Yeah, her.”
As if on cue, the girl herself walks in. When she enters, Jackie Taylor brightens up the room. Her eyes are wide, green, and captivating. The look on her face is as charming as ever. She moves with such confidence for a young girl who actually doesn’t know anything yet, it could convince you she does. Jackie skips straight over to Shauna, looping their arms together.
“Shipman, let’s go, our parents are over at Ollivander’s waiting.”
Shauna hesitates. “Oh, can Taissa come?”
Jackie’s smile fades. Her brow furrows, and she looks Taissa over, scanning her up and down. Luckily – and unexpectedly – she eventually relaxes and her eyes soften. She flashes her a soft smile and a nod. “Sure, if she wants. I’m Jackie.”
“I’m Tai,” she replies, “and I’ll go.”
The three exit the shop shortly after paying, walking down the crowded street to the wand shop awaiting them.
Inside Ollivander’s is narrow and shabby. The walls, lined with shelves upon shelves with numerous boxes of wands, are tightly packed together. Almost like it’s closing in on them. Dust covers every surface save for the worn ladder that travels the room to help reach the topmost shelves. Tai isn’t surprised. Outside after all is a sign written in peeling gold letters, saying the shop has been here since 382 B.C.
Ollivander descends the steps, an old man with a wispy beard, pale skin, and a frail look to him. However, his silvery eyes are filled with wisdom. He looks them over, his gaze immediately falling on Taissa. Almost instantly, he hands her a box.
“Dogwood. Dragon heartstring core. Works well under pressure. Produces the most flamboyant and powerful magic. Very quick learners.” He recites this all as Taissa looks over the wand, like its only one among the many facts he has memorized in his head.
She runs her hands across the rough surface, with jagged edges and a sharp look. Tai gives it a wave. It sparks, then promptly explodes a vase and sends all three girls flinching away. The wand buzzes in her hands, not meant for her.
“Of course, quirky and mischievous little things…” he murmurs, taking it back from her. “Very prone to accidents.”
“Here,” Ollivander reaches high for another box. “Poplar. Shell core. Consistency. Strength. Uniform power.” He hands it to her. “Give it a go.”
Taissa huffs, standing tall and giving it a wave. Instantly, the lights spark out. Jackie yelps.
“Oh! Well, not that. That wand does not like you. There’s an old joke… you must be a politician,” he laughs heartily, but none of the girls really understand. Clearing his throat – “Anyway.”
They go through a few more wands until Ollivander finds the right one. Jackie’s beginning to grow impatient, offering that maybe she or Shauna go first instead. But the wandmaker is set on finding the right one for Tai, even if half of his office is destroyed by now.
“Here,” he says, emerging from the backroom. “Ash wood, and a core of dragon heartstring.”
Finally, as Taissa merely grabs the hilt, the room is cast in an ethereal glow, and it's clear that this wand is for her. It’s pale white and comfortable in her hands. A foot long, sleek and smooth.
She listens eagerly as Ollivander explains the properties. “Ah, yes. For owners who are not lightly swayed from their beliefs or purposes, courageously so, but never crass nor arrogant.” He explains, and Tai is staring with wonder in his eyes as he’s doing so.
Even when Ollivander moves onto the other two at last, Tai is still staring at her wand in amazement.
Jackie finds her wand pretty quick after only two failed tries. Cypress wood – for those willing to die a heroic death – and phoenix feather core – capable of the greatest range of magic. She gives it a wave, and a stack of books on the table slowly rises in the air before gently falling back down. A large grin takes over her entire face; even Shauna smiles softly. Jackie jumps up and down, giggling with pride.
Then, Shauna, who takes almost twice as long as Taissa to find a wand. They’re there for at least an hour. Ollivander mixes and matches different wood bases and magical cores, but they’re yet to find the right one. Shauna’s jaw is clenched after what must be the fiftieth attempt. Her fists are clenched and she looks angry to be here.
As Ollivander retreats to the back to find her another possible candidate, Shauna retreats, sidling up next to Tai.
“It’s so unfair,” she mutters, “how Jackie took so little time.”
Tai shrugs. She doesn’t know enough about these girls to have any opinion on the topic. “You’ll find yours eventually.”
Ollivander returns with a box in hand, his expression set. Determined. “This should be perfect.”
He opens the cover. Inside is a wand with hard edges, colored charcoal black. Engraved to the side is a symbol, something of a triangle, a circle, with lines emerging from it. He places it delicately in Shauna’s hands.
She gives it a wave.
The broken vase from Taissa’s first attempt repairs itself.
Shauna grins, letting out a laugh of disbelief.
“Curious,” Ollivander murmurs, “very curious.”
“What is it?” Jackie asks, still staring at the vase in wonder.
“It’s curious that she should have that wand. It’s made of hawthorn. Very complex. Contradictory. A very conflicted nature. But not only that, it also has a phoenix feather core. The same phoenix, in fact, as the one in yours.”
Ollivander turns to Jackie. “That phoenix only provided two feathers to us before setting off. Bright scarlet. Intertwined. So tightly woven you could not tell where one ends and the other begins. And, as always…”
He pauses, taking his time to pack up the wand, sealing it in a box for Shauna to take home.
“...the wand always reflects its owner.”
~~~~~
The Wizarding World has never seemed real to Van.
Of course, she knows it is. Her parents are both half-bloods; she grew up with magic all around her. And then less when her father was arrested and sent to Azkaban, and then much less when her mother fell into addiction and started sleeping for most of her days. Now, Van barely believes it. Or doesn’t want to.
She spends her days watching muggle movies. She’s learned all the genres – romance, comedy, action, horror. Her favorite one in particular is The Goonies. As her father’s life sentence continues on, and her mother’s alcoholism worsens, Van absorbs herself more and more in muggle culture. Anything to distance herself from magic – which in her mind, is now nothing good.
Van’s sitting by the couch, next to her passed out mother, watching a new movie called Toy Story when a letter slips under the front door. The red seal and school crest is enough to make her blanch in fear. She knows what’s coming.
Back then, when her father was innocent and her mother was grounded, they would tell her stories of Hogwarts and she would be so excited to go. She was little. She wanted to swim in the Black Lake and soar the skies during Quidditch and wave a wand to cast spells. Then, her father had been arrested for casting a particularly evil spell, one that spews green light and is deemed forbidden and gets you locked away for life. Then, her mother had drank bottle after bottle after bottle that rid her of all coordination to even walk, much less balance on a flying broom or swim in a fifty foot deep lake. Now, Van doesn’t feel so eager.
She tosses the letter in the fire, her eyes still trained on the movie. It’s a silly one. Animated. Such ingenious muggle creations that Van applauds them for making entirely without the use of a single spell. Just how the way things should be.
Then, another letter is slipped under her door. And another. Van frowns, she tosses them in the trash too.
And then, so many are being shot into her house like the rapid fire of a machine gun.
Van yelps, pausing the movie. She jumps away from the door, which is shaking like it’s holding down a flood. Van fears it is. But there’s no other way out of the small apartment – well, no conventional one. Van shrugs, hyping herself up as she faces the window. She’s watched enough movies.
As Van jumps out of the window and sprints down the road, the letters still seem to follow. They’re dropping out of the sky, literally from nowhere. Letter after letter after letter, with those damn wax seals and that damn school crest she can see when she falls asleep, the shapes tattooed onto the back of her eyelids.
She continues bolting down the road in nothing but plaid pajama pants, a hoodie, and slippers. The letters follow. Van disappears into the trees, and it stops for a while, but resuming when she reemerges from the woods. Then, Van thinks – the playground, abandoned, nobody goes there.
Van reaches the playground. There is somebody there.
A girl, hair dark, cut choppy past her shoulders, eyes blueish green. She watches Van approach, an amused look on her face. Natalie Scatorccio. A friend from school, or something like that.
“You can’t run from it.” Nat catches a letter and tosses it at Van’s face. Rude. “Trust me.”
Wait.
“You’re a witch?” Van asks, bewildered.
“Oh, yeah.” She grins. “Found out last month. Magic, huh?”
Magic . Van scowls.
“I hate it.” She says, swatting away another letter.
Nat’s gaze darkens, like she might say something but decides against it, for her own sake or Van’s. She simply gestures at the letter instead. “Still, you have to read it.”
“I know what it says.” She tells Nat, then, at the sky – “I know what it says , okay! Ms. Palmer, you have been accepted into Hogwarts. I’m magic . I get it.”
The raining pile of letters stops. Finally.
“Hey, listen. I’m just waiting on my friend Kevyn,” Natalie explains. “We were gonna head to Diagon Alley.”
Diagon Alley. Van scoffs.
“Okay. Have fun.”
“I’m inviting you, dipshit.”
Van hesitates. Millions of thoughts race through her head like a Formula 1 car running on spaceship fuel laced with steroids. At first, it’s this: she despises the Wizarding World. It had taken away her father and then drained all the life out of her mother. When she thinks of Hogwarts she doesn’t think of learning cool spells or brewing interesting potions, she thinks of falling into the darkness just like her parents, submitting to it and losing everything like they had.
Then she thinks of her mom. Drunk to the point of unconsciousness. Van feels a sort of responsibility over her, though it should be the complete other way around. Still, there’s a gnawing guilt in her at knowing that she’s just going to leave her mother intoxicated and alone.
On the other hand, she’s just a girl, barely 11. Van knows her mother might not ever get out of the house, so this is her only shot. She may not want to go to that school, but what good will her sheer beliefs do against the Minister of Magic when he has her forcibly brought there? Van may as well have her needed robes, cauldrons, hell, a wand at least. As much as she hates it, magic is in her blood.
So, Van concedes, and thirty minutes later, Kevyn is arriving with his dad and a portkey. It’s another one of those things Van has heard of but doesn’t really know what it is, just that it’s magic and she hates it. On the outside, it looks like a normal cigarette box, small and hey , sponsored by Marlboro. But slowly Kevyn’s dad explains the function – touch it, and they go zipping hundreds of kilometers then land in Diagon Alley. Supposedly.
“So, who’s first?”
Kevyn marches forward, a playful look on his face. He salutes them, before making a show of diving into the box, instantly disappearing the moment his finger makes contact with the cardboard. His dad follows, not half as dramatic, more on showing them how it’s supposed to be done – carefully kneeling down to graze the box with his hand and slowly whizzing away. Now, it’s only Van and Nat left. They stare at one another, waiting on who’s going to volunteer first.
“I’ll go,” Van decides, taking a step forward. “I want lilies on my grave.”
“You won’t be getting shit, Palmer,” Nat replies, just as Van’s touch lands on the portkey.
Faster than she can even blink, Van is transported to what feels like the opposite of the globe – her churning stomach especially thinks so. Everything is so vivid. Colorful. Nothing like the boring old suburbia of back home, reeking of alcohol and pollution. In Diagon Alley it smells of literal flowers and rainbows and butterflies. It’s a narrow street, crowded with people, but they’re all so entertaining to look at with their silly coats and pointed hats and rainbow clothes. The buildings on either side are equally vibrant, painted a unique color for each shop. Eeyelops Owl Emporium. Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
She spots Kevyn and his dad waiting by the sidewalk, leaning against a bright turquoise wall. Jogging up, Van sidles with them with Nat following close by. They stand to the side, the two girls looking around in awe. Kevyn isn’t as starstruck, clearly having been here before – he’s talking with his dad, who’s gesturing at some snowy white building near the end of the street, towering over the rest.
“You heard him,” Kevyn claps, and Van nods even though she wasn’t listening. “First stop, Gringotts.”
The bank is even more grand on the outside than in. Marble spans across the floors, with intricate designs of different colors. There are pedestals along the grand hall of an entrance, each with a little goblin bank teller. Sure, they’re ugly, but the architecture isn’t.
Then, they ride a cart to the vaults itself, and Van’s rating on the architecture goes from 10 to in the negative zone.
Her knuckles are going white with how tight her grip is on the cart. They’re practically soaring through the air in the rickety vehicles, gliding across tracks that definitely violate all safety rules. Kevyn and his dad seem unphased, the goblin leading them especially so – Nat is beside her, grip equally tight, looking even more terrified than Van, which brings a smile to her face.
Inside the vault are stacks of gold coins, Galleons, that remind Van of a recent movie she’s watched called Indiana Jones. They stop by Scatorccio’s and Palmer’s vaults too, though they don’t have half as much money as Kevyn’s family does. Still, it’s enough. They scatter around to buy robes, cauldrons, all the books they need, and Kevyn even gets himself a pet rat.
“Ratorccio,” he decides, sending a smug look in Nat’s direction.
Lastly is Ollivander’s, the wand shop with a lengthy line outside it. Kevyn’s dad says he’ll wait there while they run off, handing them just enough money for three ice creams at Florescue’s.
Van feels almost guilty for enjoying herself so much. She doesn’t remember the last time she’s hung out with friends like this.
They sit at a table, a striped umbrella covering them from the sun’s awful glare. Their ice creams are in hand, enchanted to never melt – or do so, albeit three times as slow as normal muggle ice cream. The flavors are equally unique too, with Van having a cup of balsamic strawberry, Nat a cup of avocado lime, and Kevyn with goat cheese and fig. Their timing is just right, too, because once they’re done, Kevyn’s dad is at the front of the line, ushering them to come forward.
The previous group exits the shop, three girls running off to their parents waiting outside. Van catches the eye of one of them. Her eyes are a golden brown like amber, but Van is the only one trapped. They match the golden bees hanging from her ears, and the bracelets wrapped around her wrists. Luscious curls descend her back. On her face is a set, determined look – like now that she has a wand, she’s right on the path to becoming the greatest witch. A maroon cloak is draped over her shoulders, complimenting the deepness of her rosy lips. She turns to Van, giving her a challenging smirk, and Van thinks she faints right then and there.
~~~~~
Lottie gets her letter only a week before the start of term begins, but her parents have all her school supplies delivered within the hour.
Perks of being the daughter of the Ministry of Magic, she supposes. In fact, she knows that if they had their way, she would be privately chauffeured to school instead of in a train mixed with normal people for a change. Furthermore, had she gotten her letter earlier, Lottie just knows there would’ve been a party celebrating the Minister of Magic’s daughter. Luckily, the headmaster of Hogwarts who’s seen the both Wizarding Wars does have more influence than her father who was born just after the last one.
Actually, she’s not sure if that’s lucky . Lottie wants to be with normal people, definitely. She wants to walk through crowds unnoticed, to be able to go anywhere without her name or her face or her parents being recognized. But her level of nepotism is off the charts – it’s fame, at this point. She’s only 11 but the entire Wizarding World knows her name. So when Lottie gets swarmed by people, ranging from kids like her to teens about to start their last year of Hogwarts to adults more than twice her age, she isn’t surprised.
This makes it both difficult and extremely easy to get a carriage. On the positive side, everyone wants to sit with her. On the off side, everyone wants to sit with her . Lottie doesn’t want to sit with them! She just doesn’t, can’t they understand that?
So instead, Lottie makes her way to the back of the train and locks the door. She sits alone in her carriage, ignoring all those outside who knock on the glass and marvel and point like she’s a zoo exhibit. She keeps her head low and her eyes trained on the book in front of her – but it’s pretty hard to read it when her eyes are welling up with tears. According to her watch, the train leaves in a minute, and the only one standing for her out on the platform is her father’s bored assistant, her parents themselves too busy to show.
The moment a teardrop falls onto her paper she looks up. She decides to let gravity do its work for her tears to retreat back inside. That’s when she glances at the door, and spots a girl knocking lightly, pointing at the lock with a pleading look on her face. She has light blonde hair and soft blue eyes. A nice, floral dress drops down to below her knees, where brown boots peek through. Unlike everyone else, the girl stares at Lottie like she’s a human, too, so after a little bit of contemplation, she lets her in.
Locking the door behind her, the girl hauls herself and her heavy trunk inside the carriage. She flashes Lottie a grateful look as she lifts her bags to the overhead cabin. “Thank you,” she says, voice sweet and gentle.
Lottie can’t help but smile. “No problem.”
“I’m Laura Lee,” the girl says, sitting back down and offering a hand. Lottie appreciates this, because she knows this girl already has her name memorized, but at least has the decency to give her an opportunity to introduce herself.
“Lottie,” she says, taking it.
Thanks to Laura Lee, by the time the train is off, the tears in Lottie’s eyes have dried away. They talk as they leave the station. Lottie learns that Laura Lee is part of the Widdop family – known for their purity and kind hearts, one of the rare Hufflepuff families. She explains her family’s devotion to Christ, eager to do so, and Lottie feels happy to be the one just listening for once. Also, Laura Lee pays no mind to the constant rapping of knuckles on their door, which helps Lottie ignore them too. They only unlock the door when the trolley cart arrives, to which Lottie buys a stack of chocolate frogs just for Laura Lee, happy to spend her father’s money.
“Do you think Jesus was a wizard?” Lottie asks, the thought slipping out of her mouth as they open another box. She blanches. “Sorry. Is that disrespectful?”
Laura Lee shrugs. “I don’t think so. He certainly possessed some type of magic, with His miracles. Christ was human, too, so He might have been. He’s just like us, too.”
Lottie nods to that, biting into her third frog.
Halfway through the ride, Laura Lee slips away to change into her robes. Lottie thinks she ought to do the same, but leaving their things unattended probably isn’t the best idea when literally everyone on this train knows her name. So instead, she waits for Laura Lee to return, flipping through all the cards they’ve collected.
That’s when a thudding sound begins to near, growing louder and much more rapid. Then, two heads run past – the thudding sound stops, before it resumes and they come back. Two girls, her and Laura Lee’s age, frantically knocking at the door. Begging to be let in.
Lottie sighs, about to wave them away, but relents. She slides open the door, just enough to let both of them slip inside. One has curly blonde hair, unruly now, and a cracked pair of glasses. She can’t stay still in her seat, buzzing with adrenaline, an eccentric look on her face. The other has a messy haircut, dark and reaching far below her shoulders, with overgrown bangs that nearly reach her eyes. She’s the complete opposite – grumpy, and silently seething. When Laura Lee returns, she’s confused to say the least.
“I’m Misty,” the blonde one explains, out of breath. “Sorry. We were getting chased by Bobby Farleigh and his group.”
Laura Lee nods, understanding. She places a comforting hand on Misty’s shoulder. The other, sitting across from them and next to Lottie, is still seething – or maybe just panting, out of breath, through her gritted teeth. Point is, she’s still pissed.
“Because she couldn’t shut up,” the angry brunette says, “now we’ve lost Van and Kevyn.”
“And who are you?” Lottie asks.
“I’m Natalie,” she says with a frown, looking upset, as though she’s the one who had her carriage bombarded. “And who are you?”
Lottie freezes. This girl doesn’t know who she is? She’s not… gloating, she’s just shocked. Lottie hasn’t met a person in the world who didn’t recognize her face.
“Lottie Matthews.” She says, flashing her a look like: duh .
While Misty’s face brightens in the look of recognition Lottie knows too well and sees too much, Natalie’s expression only grows more confused. She pauses, pursing her lips – across from her, Misty is visibly containing her excitement, and struggling to do so. Natalie eventually deflates, unable to connect the dots. She shakes her head.
“Who the fuck is Lottie Matthews?”