Joanna Humphreyson-1156-1241-Potioneer
Is it wrong that I have more interest in researching and testing obsolete potions than putting on a pretty frock? Father has no problem with it, but Father has always been a little… eccentric. I would not be surprised if Mother's ability to tolerate him is full of charms that muffle the sound of his voice. I know their marriage was arranged, but I hate being the peacemaker, the only one who sees both of their sides. Really, I have six brothers, three older, three younger. One might think that one, just one of them might be able to eat and converse with both parents at once, but no. Instead, Hardwin spends all of his time wooing Iolanthe Peverell, Geoffery is always out in the greenhouses, and Roger so blatantly favors Mother that I doubt he has had a single conversation with Father in five years. Of my younger brothers, Emery favors Father, and goes about healing the villagers with him, Manfred quarrels with both, and Theobald is currently off at school, so he's free of them for the time being.
As the only daughter of Linfred "the Potterer" and Rosamund of Stinchcombe, my fate has been argued about. But really, I'm no different than the village girls. While my Muggle friends got themselves betrothed to sons of their parents friends, I got betrothed to a respectable pureblood boy. Rowley Humphreyson is rich, but an idiot. Mother's choice because of the wealth, and Father's because of the idiocy. Father has maintained a position that I should be the smarter of whatever pair I end up half of, since I was little. He says that since girls manage the accounts, I ought to know everything I can. I took to this challenge marvelously, of course.
Unfortunately, Father's lessons did not include fashion, mostly because Father never needed to be educated in that. Because of that, though, I am at a severe disadvantage in the choosing of my wedding gown. My closest magical friends, Elaria Abbott, Celestria Black, and Golda Ollivander, will most likely be in spasms by the end of this humiliating affair. Oh, why could this not happen at all? Or at least with fewer people. I am not joking. In addition to my magical friends, Mother has invited my closest Muggle friend, Anabel Cheeseman, her sister, my aunt Lettice, and Hardwin's former-conquest-now-wife, Iolanthe. She would have invited more still, but the dressmaker's shop can only fit so many people.
It's my dress fitting for my wedding. I should be having fun… right? One would think that those who declare themselves the superior gender might consider helping along us "weaker ones" once in a while, but apparently they're too far above us to get us out of dress fittings. Really, Father. You might have considered showing up. Mother'd have been delighted. I think.
Mathilde Potter-1378-1463-Artist
I hate mornings. If I voiced that thought, I would be scolded, but I do not care. Mornings are the bane of my very existence. Particularly because the paint shop in Hogsmeade is only open from seven to eleven in the morning, and then becomes a bakery in the afternoon. What shop does that, I ask you?!
Either way, this morning has been extraordinarily aggravating. I am fed up with Wizarding society and its inability to accept girls who do not wish to be wed. Like me! My father is content to only have grandchildren who carry on the name Potter, but Mother believes that 'proper pureblood daughters marry for the betterment of the family'. I dislike her reasoning.
"Tilly!" And here comes the king of annoyances: my little brother Gilbert.
"I'm busy Gilbert. Come back later."
"But Tilly it's important!"
"Is it?"
"Yes! Wenthelen Gaunt is betrothed to Humphrey Benedict! You're free!" I drop my paintbrush and rush to embrace my brother. Humphrey Benedict, the only heir of Roger and Sarra Benedict was Mother's choice for me to wed. His betrothal to Wenthelen Gaunt is a welcome piece of news. I turn back to my easel and carefully add an unchained lion into my painting of a menagerie, symbolizing my Hogwarts House and of course my newfound freedom. I suppose once in awhile boys can be useful.
Lady Aria-Allegra Longbottom-1523-1612-Composer
I hold my breath as Director Martin Fawcett speaks for a few minutes about how wonderful music is. He concludes with "And for our final performance tonight, please welcome Lady Aria-Allegra Longbottom with an original piece called A Quiet Afternoon Doing Nothing!"
The applause is polite, but generous. I am the only female performance tonight, but as I take my seat at the harpsichord I hear my son say "Look, Daddy! There's Mummy! Look!" A smile slowly creeps over my face. At least if nothing else, I will have my son's love.
For the next hour my hands fly over the keys, hitting accidentals, playing trills, and so on and so forth. When I finally let my hands up and curtsy deeply, the applause is deafening. My husband and son are among the loudest, but my brothers aren't much quieter. As I rise, two thoughts run through my head. The first is I will remember this moment forever. The second was less definitive. It was simply Boys. They'll never learn to be quiet.
Lady Clara McKinnon-1703-1799-Author
"But Aunt Clara-"
"Walter, I said no. You need to finish your greens before you can eat any Treacle Tart." Contrary to the belief of my classmates, I am not Walter's mother. He is my nephew, but as his own mother died when he was only a week old, his father is too busy with his duties as liaison to the French Ministry of Magic, and his stepmother is certainly not a suitable parent, I have taken it upon myself to raise him. I don't much care for children, but it will be good practice for my own, someday.
"Lighten up, Clary." Lorraine says from beside me. I grit my teeth. Lorraine Murphy Potter has no right to lecture me on how I raise my nephew. She's the woman Gus married in hopes she'd be a good mother figure to his son, but she's worse at taking care of children than a Flobberworm. Still, I cannot criticize her, for she is Lady Potter and would disown me and cast me out on the streets in a heartbeat if she didn't know Gus would repudiate her for that. Luckily, Eva has my back, and I'm not untrained in the art of requesting something.
"Please don't call me Clary, Lorraine. Clara works just fine, doesn't it, Walter?" Said little boy nodded in the affirmative.
"You know, Lorraine, I don't see you doing anything to remedy Clara's act. You just lounge about and complain."
"Who are you to be criticizing me, Eva-Jane?"
Eva does not back down. "The eldest child of a prominent pureblood family, which ranks above you, I believe."
Lorraine flushes. For all that she is Lady Potter, as the third daughter of a relatively small family, Eva does indeed outrank her. Eva outranks me as well, but since my betrothal to her eldest brother, she has been spending time with me as of late. I smile gratefully at her, and give Walter the slice of Treacle Tart I promised once he had finished his greens.
Then I pull a roll of parchment out of my pocket. I scribble down the gist of the conversation onto it. Three young women raising a little boy will fit quite nicely into Stories of Chastity and Grace. Although boys take over whatever they participate in, so I'm positive this little one will steal the attention quite thoroughly away from the twins.
Henrietta Lovegood-1806-1900-Wizengamot Member
When Louise comes barreling into our dorm room brandishing the Daily Prophet I am doing something respectable for once: studying for our History of Magic exam. Louise takes no notice of this. "Hettie!" She exclaims. "Hettie you must look at this at once!"
"Can't it wait, Lou? The exam is tomorrow and if I don't study, I'll fail for certain!" Louise snorts in a very unladylike manner.
"You only care about History of Magic because you think it will help you in the Ministry. Which it won't. Professor Binns only teaches goblin rebellions, and you know it." I don't respond. She and I both know it's true. We also both know that the Ministry doesn't accept females in the Wizengamot. Yet. "Oh, Hettie, please! I promise it will interest you." I still do not respond. She sighs and plops down on my bed. "It's about Gerald." This catches my attention.
"What has my pigheaded fiancé done now?" I inquire, putting down my notes. All of them are about goblin rebellions. Louise hands me the copy of the Daily Prophet she'd been waving about so furiously a minute ago, pointing to the headline. When I read the headline, I understand why she's so upset. MINISTRY WORKER DECLARES MINISTER INCOMPETENT. As I read through the article, I saw that my fool of a betrothed had publicly denounced Minister Josephine Flint and declared that he would have nothing to do with her any time soon. I was proud of him, but even though the Minister was of anti-Muggle beliefs didn't mean he had to insult her with so many eyewitnesses. I will have to fix this problem quickly (and quietly, because female peacemakers are few and far between) and study at the same time. Honestly, are all boys idiots, or is it just mine?
Sierra-Cecilia Potter-1944-1955-Dreamer
"Mother! Father! Look, here it comes! My letter of acceptance to Hogwarts!"
Father looks up from his breakfast. "We never doubted it would, did we, Mia?"
"No, Monty. We never did."
"Therefore, I fail to see what all the fuss is about." By now both of their lips are twitching, and I know they are joking. Despite me having turning Tasia's bonnet red when I was just seventeen months old, they have been waiting as anxiously for this day as I have. I take the envelope from the owl eagerly, and look at the address.
Miss S-C. Potter
The Third Bedroom
The Fourth Floor
Linfred's Estate
Wales
"They don't call me just Celia." I complain. Mother and Father are the only ones to refer to me by my full name, and only when we are in polite company.
"It is an acceptance letter. They don't know you yet. I'm sure you will get the message across quickly." Mother is quick to both reassure and scold me.
"Your mother is right, Just Celia. If you use some of those hexes I taught you…"
"Monty! She doesn't even have a wand yet!"
"Wandless is an important skill to learn, Mia!"
"She just turned eleven! Save the hex teaching until she's of age!"
"But by then she'll know them all!"
Mother and I share a look. Boys can be so ridiculous.
Lily Potter-2008-2025-Inventor
"Potter, Lily!" As my name is called, I see Dominique, Jay, Freddie, Roxie, Louis, and Rose at the Gryffindor table, Al at the Ravenclaw table, and Lucy at the Hufflepuff table all straighten. Inwardly I smirk. If my Sorting goes the way I want it to, none of them will be celebrating today. My plan is simple: cause mass panic and make this Sorting ceremony memorable. The hat is placed on my head. I wait.
Ah, such choices. The hat's voice fills my head.
Hello, I think.
Hello to you too, child. Now, where to place you… The voice was silent for a few minutes, to the point I began to get a little worried.
Hat? Are you alright? I think.
I'm fine, child. You just are a very difficult girl to Sort. Ah, so that was it. Perhaps Gryffindor? It is in your family genetics, and I believe I placed one of your brothers there a few years ago.
Maybe not? I see him enough at home, I think.
Then Hufflepuff? You are very loyal, and quite persistent too.
I want Slytherin. The thought is projected to the hat before I can stop it. To my surprise, the hat chuckles.
I know, child. Not Hufflepuff then. I assume Ravenclaw would be tolerable if Slytherin isn't possible.
Yes. But I really would prefer-
"SLYTHERIN!" A wide grin slides over my face, not only because I was Sorted into the House of my choice, but also because Jay and Al are currently pouting that I wasn't Sorted into their Houses. Meanwhile, every magical-raised student is gaping and Uncle Neville looks like Trevor just died. Boys are so predictable.
And, as a bonus…
Magnolia Potter-1982-2105-Muggle Relations
"Incoming! Incoming!" I shout. "Get out of the way!" The thing that is incoming is not me, or an animal, or even a Bludger. No, it's my OWL results. Mum opens the kitchen window just in time for the Ministry owl to fly in, drop my results in my breakfast, and fly off again. My younger brother Ryan pauses in his attempts to scrape the last of the eggs off of the pan. Without Harry, the quality of the cooking has dropped drastically, since both Mum and Dad are horrible, and Ryan and I only have the mini-lessons Harry had given us as soon as we each turned twelve. We had all conveniently forgotten the fact that he was moving out before his eighteenth birthday, and now rented a flat in Ballycastle, Northern Ireland, where both the reserve and professional Bats practiced. Bastard.
"Well, Mags? What'd you get?" Ryan asks.
"Stop calling me 'Mags', and maybe I'll tell you." I reply.
"Okay." He agrees easily. We both know he'll break that promise within the next five minutes, but I've given up on getting my brothers to stop calling me nicknames other than my preferred 'Maggie'. Nonetheless, I open my O.W.L. results. And promptly gasp.
Mum is at my side instantly. Cook she might not be, but she's very good at sensing when we need her. Or when she thinks we need her. "What is it, Maggie?"
I swallow. "I passed all of them except History of Magic and Divination. And I got an O in Muggle Studies!"
"Ah well, those don't matter anyway." Dad says cheerfully as Ryan and Mum let out a celebratory yell.
"Someone Floo Harry." Mum says, quickly taking charge of the situation. "Ryan send an owl to the Blacks and the Longbottoms, since Eddie, Amy, and Alfred must have also gotten their results today. Oh, I'm so proud!" She hugs me tightly. "My little girl's all grown up!"
"Mum!" I say, embarrassed. "I'm not even in my Sixth Year yet."
"And," Ryan interjects, "you still have another kid! Younger than Magsiekins over there! Maggie isn't exactly the Ginny Weasley of our family or anything."
"Shut up, Ry." I say. "When your O.W.L. results come, we'll celebrate you. For now, bask in the glory of me and my success!"
"What glory?" He dodges my whack, and so begins a long (read, eight minutes) pillow fight with Mum and me in one side, and Dad and Ryan on the other. Those boys are going down!
Okay, so originally I was going to post this with the next chapter(s) of FNT but I have caught a major bout of writer's block with that story. It is NOT abandoned, because I have an ending and an epilogue, but the middle is escaping me somehow.
Speaking of FNT, there is a poll on my profile for which PJO characters you guys would like to visit Hogwarts. They won't appear in the actual story, but a side fic I will post all together when I'm done, because everyone reading this (except for the newcomers which, hi, welcome, I'm swanglade37) knows how absolutely DREADFUL I am at updating. I'm more of a oneshot kind of gal. But I digress. Please vote! The top four choices will be included. Thank you.
'Kay, I'm gonna run from all you angry people who are upset that this isn't an FNT update now. BYEEEE!