A/N: This is a gift for Loes ([tumblr] savingpltravers) for Christmas. She has an idea that Mary Poppins is Newt and Porpentina's (from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them) daughter. Here's the beginning of a story that I've been working on for her. Enjoy.
On the coldest first day of November that London had ever seen, a girl was born into the world already able to understand the wind and speak to the sparrows.
The girl was soft and sweet, but also knowing, for the birds and leaves spoke to her in her cradle.
In the days that she was left in her crib, the leaves told her about how the world was dangerous and sad, and how as you grew, you would slowly forget your memories of being able to understand. The girl didn't want to forget, and quick as she had decided that, a mystical wind blew into the room, blessing her. Her mother felt the wind, but the wind didn't speak to her. It only mussed her short black hair. The mother, Porpentina Scamander, had no idea what was to become of her daughter.
The girl's name was Mary. She resembled her mother a bit, but with a face that much more likely belonged on a Dutch doll. The girl's father thought she was the most perfect girl in the world. Both of her parents were rather good to her. They taught her simple magic, and they swore to never shun her for what she could do.
What her parents taught her, the breeze also taught her. No wizard she knew could talk to the wind, and when she finally asked the wind why she could understand, the wind simply whistled in her ear.
Mary looked around the platform worriedly.
The other students, well, some of them, seemed anxious as well.
"Are you sure you want to go to Hogwarts?" Tina was clenching her fists, a habit she acquired from gripping her wand in situations of extreme stress. Newt also seemed a bit on edge.
"There's always Ilvermorny," Tina tried.
Mary shook her head. "No, Hogwarts is the place," she declared. She glanced around and saw a girl who seemed on the verge of tears.
She knew why they were all nervous about it. About her going. A girl had died last year. The year? 1943. Mary was 11, about to board the train. Hogwarts. Hogwarts. Hogwarts.
"They caught the person who did it," Mary said, feigning confidence. "The school is still open because of that."
"Yes, but I'm not so sure that… Rubeus Hagrid… was the one," Newt explained. "You're so young, we don't want you hurt or threatened." He was such a loving father. Mary could wish for no better. Charming, witty, a little awkward, he was a lot like Mary was.
Mary stood proudly in her navy coat with silver buttons white button-down shirt with light blue polka dots, and her black, knee-length skirt.
Newt had been pushing her trunk along, Tina had been holding her owl. Students were boarding the train. Some were cautious, some were exuberant, some older ones a little sad.
The spring of 1943 was a tragedy, some said, due to the death of Myrtle Warren, a 14-year-old girl.
It was the cause of The Great Summer Scamander Debate. Was Mary to attend the school where a murder had occurred? Mary had tried to convince her parents that she would be completely safe, and eventually, and reluctantly, they agreed.
Tina handed Mary her owl while Newt hauled her trunk aboard a luggage car. Tina, feeling very sentimental, touched Mary's face, like she was memorizing it. It was a bit cliché, but if it was something Tina felt like she had to do, Mary wouldn't object. Her parents meant the world to her.
The whistle blew and Newt ran off the train, enveloping Mary in a hug that she was both relieved and embarrassed by. "I'll miss you," he told her.
Mary hugged back fiercely and told him, "I'll miss you, too."
And she broke the hug and ran up the stairs of a passenger car. A quick flash of a smile, and Mary was going to be whisked away on a brand new adventure.