This story is about young Seraphina back when she was actually attending her wizarding school. And YES, I KNOW she didn't go to Hogwarts, but I know a lot about it so it's just easier. So, the name of the school and location and attributes are mostly those of Hogwarts, but everything else is totally Ilvermorny. The schools and houses are all screwed up, but just... work with me. This is the longest things I've ever written, and I need to break all the rules to squeeze the potential out of it. That okay? Cool.
- In Which Seraphina Meets A Cat And A Boy
Seraphina Picquery drew in a sharp breath, inhaling the smoky scent of platform 9 3/4. Her teeth tugged at her lip, and her trembling hand tugged the suitcase along behind her with a rickety click-clack. Despite the eleven-year-old's best effort, her nerves were showing through.
She felt Percy clap her shoulder and whisper, "Are you excited, Feenie?" She was, but she'd prefer expulsion over him knowing.
"Don't call me that. I'm fine." She replied coolly. Hands raced over every wrinkle on her sleek black dress. This was the day she had awaited her entire life.
The hidden train was everything she had imagined: a winding, glimmering scarlet engine that poured steam from a pipe on the roof and had the Hogwarts seal painted tastefully on the front. Jet black wheels, that she had just seen eat up the tracks. It was majestic, and the rosy-cheeked first-years that milled about in the aisle seemed to know it.
The platform itself, however, had her father in quite a huff.
"Dad, are you alright?" Seraphina asked tentatively, eyeing Henry Picquery's arched eyebrows and lopsided moustache. It wasn't a good sign that he cleaned off his monocle before answering; "I'm fine darling, just expected something... cleaner." Indeed his preferences were justified.
The platform was a dull gray stone, with the occasional crimson pillar that held up a cavernous red roof and a few cobwebs spreading from corner to floor. More than once, Mr. Picquery would look down to see his black leather shoes dusted in a fine layer of dirt. No one else cared, but the muggles wearing business suits in the midst of the chaos seemed put off.
Seraphina already loved it. Cats wove between her legs, their tails trailing behind them like thick ribbons, and her taller brother had to swat one away from his box of Bertie Bot's Beans. "Percival!" Their mother scolded.
The toffee-skinned girl felt her legs quiver with hidden excitement for this day, this day that foretold mystery and magic and excitement. Of course, ever since Percy had gotten his letter by owl, he had romanticized the place- but why shouldn't she believe him? It was Hogwarts, the most prestigious school for witchcraft and wizardry in the world.
"Oh, that's me I suppose." She said, upon hearing a dry voice summoning first-years to car four. "Bye Mom, bye Dad." Each farewell was met with a kiss to her cheek and a tight smile. Her mother snuck a chocolate frog into her owl's cage for good measure. The voice echoed through platform 9 3/4 a second time.
In these scenarios, she was glad to have Percy to wrap her in a bear-hug and say, "You're the best I've ever seen, Feenie. You'll do great." For a minute, his words were like a candle in a dark window and she let a grin flit over her face.
But then Percy was gone, off to find his fourth-year friends in car three. And Seraphina was all alone with her restless snowy owl, Thief, and an overstuffed bag. The slender girl, feeling like this should be a bigger deal than it was to her family, looked around helplessly for a familiar face; but everyone was lost in the rush of late boarding. A sigh pulled itself from her throat.
She breathed in the scent of new beginnings and wrestled herself onto the train.
Once inside, Seraphina looked around for a place to sit. Percy said that whoever you sat with, you would be friends with, at least long enough to make real ones. But she was soon distracted.
"Whoa..." she allowed herself to whisper. Because for the first time ever, she saw people like her: girls with vibrantly colorful hair and elegant wands, boys wearing turbans trying to conjure flames, and a good mix of utterly normal children as well. Sparks of magic seared spots in the floor, but they only disappeared like fading ink.
Was this how Percy felt when he first boarded the train years ago? She would have to ask him.
The seats were a plush red leather with gold poles joining them to the floor. They were every bit as regal as she had pictured. Some were littered with candy wrappers and jewelry while others held nothing but textbooks. The young witch looked down at her own swollen suitcase, the one they had let her take on the train because it contained her robes and food, and winced.
"Hey," when a hand clasped her shoulder, she whipped around to find a smiley, pale girl with thick blond hair and a snobbish smile. "So, me and some other first-years are having a magic competition, and we want a bunch of people to be there." Her voice was a liltingly Cockney accent, cold enough to make Seraphina keep her tone in check. "Excuse me?"
The other girl sighed, and inhaled deeply. "Sorry. I'm Lacey. Several first-years are going to have a magic competition, you know, to see who's the best. We want lots of others there, so I was wondering if you'd come." Seraphina blinked.
"Why me?" She asked, lifting her nose.
"You just look like you would be good. You know, you have the dyed hair and the wrap and the wand, and you look experienced. Anyway, I'll swing by your seat to remind you later. Where are you sitting?"
A doe-eyed Seraphina rolled her eyes and decided to get two key facts straight. "My hair isn't dyed. It just grows like this." She smoothed her index fingers over the two perfect platinum blonde curls that lay on her cheeks, the only thing one could see of her hair, below the black scarf she always wrapped around her head. "And I wear the head wrap because it keeps everything out of my face."
The hair was one of the first things that alerted her muggle family that she might be different. Her skin was the same light olive as her mother's, but her hair was so pale it was almost white.
Clearly, Lacey didn't care whatsoever. "Yeah, okay. Where are you sitting, though?" Her face was scrunched up, as if she'd eaten something sour. The blond girl wore a pretty navy dress, with a huge white bow dangling off the rump, and the other focused on it while she listened to the question.
Seraphina shook her head slightly as she realized that she didn't know where she was sitting. "Uh..." her mind went blank.
"Here!" She exclaimed, sweeping over to an empty seat and dropping her bag on the floor. This was the only way she was ever going to shake this girl. "I'm sitting here."
The seat next to it was filled with books. Piled as high as the chair, Seraphina half worried they would topple over once the train started moving, and had to shift every minute because a corner was jabbing her ribs. But sitting next to dusty tomes such as "A History of Magic" and "Basic Counterspells for A Magic Student" made her feel entirely at home. She could only hope that the inhabitant of this seat had studied them as much as she.
"Oh." Lacey frowned, clearly disappointed that her unwilling conversationalist had already found a seat. "Well, I'll come get you when it starts."
"Alright," Seraphina scowled, turning her nose up. Lacey rolled pale blue eyes and scuttled away to the end of the car. The dark-eyed witch smiled.
This would have been good news, if her departure was not followed by a mournful "Meow!" that seemed to come from the young witch's suitcase. The bag started to move beneath her hands. Seraphina's gaze flew to the struggle of the zipper. "What the-" Seraphina started, but ended up emitting a small shriek as a cat leapt out of her bag. "Whoa!" Hands flew in front of her face to guard from uncut claws and thick white teeth.
The slender black cat curled up on her leg, peering up through midnight-dark eyes. Long whiskers tickled her through her tights, and she saw that its muzzle was covered in the remnants of a Whizzing Nortflusker Candy. "Hey," she scolded, "That's mine you awful cat!" The feline merely purred.
"Alright, whose cat is this?" Seraphina called helplessly to the train residents.
The black cat emitted a Cheshire grin at the lack of response. It had no collar, and not even a dent in the fur around its neck (like the family cat, Cheddar, had when he slipped out of his tag). She assumed it had a careless owner- but what of its well-groomed ebony fur and trimmed nails?
The prim witch gazed down at it. It was a handsome cat, with eyes so brown they were nearly black and silvery whiskers. Seraphina scoffed in disgust and pushed the feline stowaway off her lap. "Seriously, who is missing a cat?"
No one answered except for a broad voice that popped up right next to her. "Not mine."
Pressing purple-painted hand to fast-beating heart, Seraphina pivoted to find a boy sitting in the seat next to her. How he'd managed to slide through the maze of literature, she would never know, but he did look the bookish type. Round, coke-bottle glasses. Unruly, jet-black hair, that seemed to have lost a previous battle with a comb. A scarf with the Hogwarts crest emblazoned upon it, wrapped around his neck like a serpent.
"Oh." She snapped out of her improper trance, and extended a hand. "Sorry. Seraphina Picquery, pleased to meet you... do you sit here?"
The boy, who she had decided almost instantly was a friend, gave her a small smile. Oh! He had teeth so white she swore she'd go blind, and a smile to rival that of her own shy, pearly grin. She also noticed that he shifted from side to side when he spoke- a bad habit. "Yeah, I mean, yes. I'm Winston Maribell, first-year." Seraphina beamed down at him (for she was quite a bit taller), and he consideringly added, "and I like your hair."
She blushed.
"Thank you. This is all pretty exciting, right?" Her words were more juvenile than expected. "I mean, my family could care less about Hogwarts, but look at all this!"
Winston grinned. "Yeah. I've got two brothers, and Harrison is always boasting about how he took to the place like a fish to water. Liar." It wasn't very funny, but Seraphina forced out a chuckle so he would feel better. Hopefully Winston wouldn't be one of the idiots Percy was gabbing about constantly.
"I only have one brother, Percy. He's a fourth-year." With a fond smile, Seraphina recalled her brown-haired, wide-grinned brother, the only one in her conservative family who unwaveringly supported her decision to be special. For him it was alright- he'd grow up to be the man of the house- and he didn't need to be her rock like he was. "I think he'll be around soon, because he's a prefect."
Winston made a face. "Ugh. Is he one of the really strict ones?" His eyes shone with prefect badges and broken rules and curse words shouted through a hallway of rampant children.
The witch opposite him frowned, and absentmindedly took a candy from his extended hand. It was green and fizzy. "No. Percy's actually very lax, if that's what you're worried about." As soon as the word slipped from her lips, she pressed a palm to her forehead; these English scholars wouldn't know what American words were hip, would they? "Sorry, lax means relaxed, like, cool."
"I know what lax means, Seraphina." She looked him straight in the eye at the use of her first name. "Oh." She bit into the candy he had handed her.
Oh! It took every bone in Seraphina's body to not screw up her face in complaint. Sourness raced over her tongue, gracing each taste bud a hundred times, and her cheeks ballooned slightly to keep the horrid thing off the sensitive muscle. "My God, what is this?" With a straight face she swallowed, and saw Winston staring at her.
"It's a Sonny Sour. The most sour sweet in pretty much the world." His eyes were wide. "You're the only other person I've met who can take it without going-" he made a terrifically ridiculous face.
She blushed again, smoothing down her black dress. This whole day had been a blur. In just two hours, she had driven to the train station, passed through a wall, boarded a secret train, met a rudely snobbish girl who commented on her hair, accidentally adopted a cat (she assumed), met a new friend, and tasted the world's most sour candy without making a face.
Seraphina had to admit, she loved the thrill of it all. "We're officially away from home," Winston said next to her.
Winston's voice was heavy and deep, she observed, and had the distinct air of someone who had hit puberty far too early. She rather liked it.
But just as he was about to say something in the squeaky baritone, there came a great clattering of wheels and clacking of hard shoes on the train's flooring. It sounded like the place where rust went to die was about to turn into their compartment.
The sound of rusty hinges sent a confused chill across her eyes. "What's that?" Asked Seraphina coolly, unwilling to show this boy weakness yet.
He ran a hand through his ebony hair and puffed out a breath of relief. "Oh, that?" She resisted the urge to strangle him for the careless way in which he spoke, no respect coloring his tone at all. "That's the trolley witch, a lady who sells sweets and snacks up and down the train. I've got my eye on a Monty Mink Mint Map, so keep an eye out."
At first, she thought he had gone mad. But the clarity of his words was proven with the arrival of a stout witch tugging a cart behind her, so loaded with candy that it looked near falling over. The trolley witch, presumably. Calling out candy brands to wizards across the aisles, she lumbered along with a friendly smile.
Seraphina gaped at the candyfloss-haired woman, as Winston dove towards the trolley witch his hand outstretched. Her travel companion was almost neck-deep in the pile by the time the witch smacked his hands away.
This display made her shudder. The boy had no manners. Although it was refreshing, she dusted off her velvety dress and scowled darkly at his backside. The way his dirty hands latched to fistfuls of candy like no one else wanted them? "You know, the candy isn't going anywhere."
Of course, the minute she said so, a chocolate frog burst free and hopped towards an open window, before leaping on creamy whipped legs into the unforgiving breeze. They both watched it crash into a tree and keep hopping, dazed, towards the horizon.
Winston turned to Seraphina (two dillypops in hand) and grinned. She mended her words, "Except for those."
This made the trolley witch laugh slightly as she looked towards Seraphina and asked in a singsong voice, "anything from the trolley, dear?"
Seraphina looked it over and ended up spending three Sickles on candy. Three Sickles! It was rather exciting to have spent so much on such frivolous things. But oh, did she love candy. Especially the magical kind- her parents never even let her eat the normal sweets you found in muggle convenience stores.
Bertie Bot's Every-Flavor Beans, chocolate frogs, toffees and dillypops... all found a home in the shared space between her and Winston. "All sweets are welcome," Winston had declared when she presented a handful of peppermints. "We don't discriminate here."
Seraphina finally got what all the fuss was about chocolate frogs when she bit into hers and felt the leg wriggle around in her mouth as it melted. Her hands raced along the gilded purple edge of the pentagonal box, and Winston urged her to open it and see which card she got. The card turned out to be Bathilda Bagshot.
Winston had four of those, and gave her a Dumbledore.
When she unbuttoned a button from her pleated charcoal dress, he blushed. At least he had some manners, she thought hopefully. But it was quite hot in here.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Seraphina asked brashly. Winston's blue eyes were dragging up and down her face, as if searching for something, and when she called him out, his ears turned hot pink. "Nothing."
He bit into a dillypop, eager to change the subject. "Say, you've got Muggles for parents, haven't you?"
Seraphina bristled. "So what?" Her voice was cutting, and Winston shrunk back.
"So, nothing. Just, a lot of people talk rubbish about Muggle borns. I heard a boy use some very nasty language in the compartment over there." His blue eyes were wide and earnest as he spoke. The inexplicably blonde witch decided he meant no harm. "It's alright. I'm used to it."
Looking determinedly out the window, she didn't tell him about the boys who used to chase her every day and make fun of her. Call her awful names.
"You gonna eat that, Seraphina?" Her new friend asked, oblivious, pointing to a safe-looking bean.
"No, you can have it... Winston." Once again, Seraphina tested his name on her tongue. In her eleven years, she hadn't had many friends- her father thought it was more proper to focus on schoolwork. So now, she quite liked how it rolled from her mouth like a foreign language. She didn't understand how she felt a connection so early in their relationship, but she liked it.
Winston's huge grin turned to jagged shock as he spit the bean into a napkin.
What had promised to be a delicious cotton-candy flavor had apparently backfired, and Seraphina was already giggling by the time he choked out, "Not... cotton-candy... God... urinal cake!" As he scrubbed his tongue, the witch in the clean black robes laughed harder than she ever had in her life.
Thanks for taking the time to read this! I was really intrigued by the female president persona, and decided that she deserved a story in her name. Please leave a review if you can, and have a nice day!