Golden Child
A/N: This fic was written for Camp Potter 2017's Scavenger Hunt, Week 2, run by Cheeky Slytherin Lass. Team: Corn Cops: whitetiger91 (Malfoy Cabin) and The Lady Arturia (Lupin Cabin).
Prompt: Write about jealousy. Bonus prompts used: (word) golden, (word) best, (word) tap.
Word count: 1181 words
"Oh, I can't believe it, my baby is doing so well!" her mother cried, tears streaming down her face.
Matilda watched her blue eyes dart back and forth across the piece of parchment, her knuckles turning white as her grip on the letter tightened. She didn't need to bother looking who had written to the woman—there was only one person who was pretentious enough to use bright purple ink.
"Arnold! Arnold! Come quick, Gilderoy as written again. He's just achieved an Outstanding on his very first assessment task, isn't that great?" her mother said, waving the letter around.
As usual, Matilda's father was hidden behind his copy of The Daily Prophet. As soon as he got home of an afternoon, he would pick up the paper and sit in his favourite armchair. No one was allowed to disturb him when reading—not unless it was of the utmost importance—and if they tried, he would simply ignore them. Now, however, he glanced over the top of the paper, his mouth lifted into a faint smile beneath his moustache.
"I knew he could do it. That one was always smart," he said with a grunt. Then, spreading out his paper, he returned to reading.
Matilda rolled her eyes, feeling a little silly for expecting her father to say anything to the contrary. Gilderoy was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong. He was a wizard, a protegee, the only child worth spoiling.
Well, that would not be the case for long. Looking at her school backpack, Matilda smiled to herself. Her secret weapon was inside, and it wouldn't be long before she could reveal it. If her parents weren't impressed then, they never would be.
"Stop slouching, Matilda," her mother said. "Posture is the only thing going for you at the moment; the least you could do was ensure you didn't destroy that, too."
With a scowl, Matilda pushed her shoulders back. Her mother had finally folded up the letter and was now tucking it into her pocket. She was surprised the woman didn't frame the piece of paper, instead. With her back turned, Matilda stuck her tongue out at her.
"Just imagine, by the end of the year, I can see our boy probably being moved up a few grades. I always knew he was destined for Ravenclaw, always," she said, pressing a hand to her heart. "That Muggle school was certainly holding him back, don't you think, dear?"
Her father grunted. "Yep, certainly saved money on any private high schools."
Not long now, not long now. Matilda pulled her bag forward, hugging it to her chest. Her parents had never bothered sending her or her older sister to private school. A Muggle school was good enough for the likes of them—Squibs and disappointments.
She watched her mother walk over to the side table. With a smile, she picked up a photograph of them on one of their annual family holidays. Matilda and Marietta stood either side of Gilderoy, both staring at the ice cream cone he had gotten simply because he wouldn't stop whining about his growling stomach. Their father's hand was on his shoulder, and their mother was smiling down at him.
"He's so grown up now," her mother said, stroking the animated version of Gilderoy.
Putting the photograph down, she turned around and slowly walked over to the chaise. Her eyes were still a little moist, and she took out a handkerchief to dab at them. Then, putting it away, she picked up a magazine sitting on the coffee table and sat down on the opposite end to her daughter.
Matilda zipped open her bag and reached inside. She fished around inside, smiling when her hands enclosed over what she needed. Pulling it out, she waited for her mother's usual question. Three… two… one…
"Did you do anything productive, today?" she asked, barely glancing up from her magazine.
Right on cue. Matilda grinned and held up the piece of paper in her hand. "It was quite a good day, actually," she said.
"Mmm?"
"See for yourself," she said, leaning over and placing the paper in front of her mother's nose. She positioned it so the large red 'A+' couldn't be missed.
"What's this?" her mother said, picking it up.
Matilda beamed. Finally, things were about to change.
"My latest assignment," she said, moving closer to her mother and tapping the top corner. "An 'A' is equivalent to an Outstanding."
Her mother nodded, reading over her essay. Matilda hadn't put near as much research into her other assignments as she had on this one. She had borrowed several library books and even borrowed her father's good pen to write it. It had all paid off; the barest hint of a smile lit up her mother's face.
"My teacher said it was my best work yet," she added.
Nodding again, her mother finished reading the essay. Her smile had grown a little, and Matilda felt her heart lifting.
"Much better," she said, handing it back to her before turning back to her magazine. "We'll work on your handwriting next time, though, alright?"
She took the paper from her, her eyes focused on her mother. Was that it? Just a 'much better'? No 'well done on all your hard work, I'm proud of you'? She swallowed, holding the paper closer to her. Perhaps her mother was just finishing the article she was on, and then she would tell her father to take a look.
She watched the woman's eyes trail down the magazine's glossy page before moving across to the adjoining page. Licking her lips, her mother soon turned the page.
Her heart plummeted. Leaping up from the chaise, Matilda took her paper and stormed out of the room. Her eyes felt hot and heavy as she entered the kitchen. If they wouldn't acknowledge her paper properly, she would.
The refrigerator was covered in various pieces of paper: photographs of the family, bills that needed paying, flashy postcards from their well-off relatives. The magnets pinned to their corners were barely holding them up, and she found a small bit of satisfaction knowing that her 'genius' younger brother had not yet figured out what spell to cast to make them stronger.
Scanning the contents, her eyes soon clapped on the document taking pride of place right at the top: Gilderoy's acceptance letter to Hogwarts. The neat, cursive writing of his name seemed to mock her, telling her that it would always be her brother that was accepted. That her brother would always be the special one.
Frowning, she snapped off the magnets holding it in place, and with her other hand, slapped her essay on top of it. Putting the magnets back in place, she folded her arms and stepped back to admire her work.
Even though a tear slipped down her cheek, Matilda smiled. The red A+ now stood out, as did her name at the top of the page. From that point on, she would make sure it did more often—that she would be the best—parental help or not.