Hufflepuff
Seventh Year
Additional
WC: 665
Requirement: 607-670 words
Additional Requirement: Must be about a character from the Tales of Beedle the Bard
This work contains a word that can be used as a derogatory term but matches to vocabulary used during that time.
"Babs," Mrs. Babbity always said to her daughter. "You can do whatever you want to do in life so long as you do it well."
She told this to young Babbity every single day, sometimes multiple times a day.
Babbity grew up in uncertain times. Her mother was always worried about her and her daughter's safety and was always searching for a way to protect themselves from Muggles who wanted to blame everyone but themselves for their problems. Mrs. Babbity was rather proficient with textile magic, so they made their money washing sheets and mending clothes which gave them enough to eat well and move often.
They were happy but then… disaster struck. A Muggle woman had discovered Mrs. Babbity performing magic over a nobleman's linens to turn them from a grimy grey to pristine white. Within minutes there was an angry mob.
They had just made it to the tree line when Mrs. Babbity had fallen.
"Mumsy!" Babbity cried.
"Go, dearest!" Mrs. Babbity called. "Be swift. Keep running and don't look back!"
So, she did. She leaped and bounded over shrubbery and fallen logs. She paid no mind to the thorns that shredded her skirt hem or the thorns that scratched her face and pulled at her brown hair.
She only rested when the stitch in her side became so unbearable that she could hardly run anymore. Babbity retched and leaned against a tree. A snap alerted her. She stilled and breathed as quietly through her mouth as she could. She listened. There were some uses for big ears. Another snap sent her barreling into the thicket.
Babbity crawled on her stomach paying no mind to the muddying of her dress nor the dirt under her nails. She peered through the leaves and brambles fearing to see an intruder. The thicket rustled, and her heart stopped.
Something appeared in her peripherals. She turned her head and sighed with relief when she realized it was only a fox. She would only need to fear them if she were a chicken, and she was certainly no chicken.
"What are we hiding from?" the fox asked.
Babbity screamed.
The fox laughed and crawled out of the thicket jumping into the form of a boy perhaps only a couple years older than her. He appeared to be from the Moors judging by his dark skin. He was quite beautiful by any standards.
"Y-you're a wizard!" she gasped.
"That I am," he said. "There's no danger here. Let me help you."
Once Babbity was free she took a breath and stood firm, arms akimbo.
"How did you do that?" she demanded.
"Well, I moved this bramble here and –"
"Not how you freed me!" she said. "How did you become a fox?"
"I'm an animagus," he said proudly. "I learned how to shapeshift into an animal."
"Why?"
"Well," he said, sticking his hand in his pockets. "It's dangerous to be a wizard in these parts. Not to mention I'm a bit of a notorious heartbreaker through the nobility."
"Seduced too many daughters?" Babbity asked sarcastically.
"Sons." Fox-boy grinned. "I didn't even have to potion them."
Babbity couldn't help but laugh. She was liking this bloke more and more by the second.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Aban," he said. "Yours?"
"Babbity," she said. "My mumsy calls… called me Babs."
Aban did not miss her lower lip trembling.
"How long?" he asked.
"About ten minutes." She sniffled and began to cry.
Aban sat down next to her and placed an arm around her until she'd had her fill.
When she could cry no more, Babbity wiped her nose on her sleeve and took a deep, shuddering breath. Mumsy would not want her to cry. She would encourage her daughter to move on but… it seemed she was always moving on. Always afraid.
"What was it that you said you were?" she asked. "The… the shapeshifting?"
"An animagus?"
"Yes!"
He nodded and grinned. "Interested?"
"You'll teach me?"
"Of course! Let's begin."