For round four of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.
Holyhead Harpies, Beater 2
Mandatory: Write about the Shacklebolt family.
Optional: 1. (color) silver 2. (animal) cat 14. (object) pot
Word Count: 1403
Thank you to Bex, Sam, and Lizzy for beta'ing.
Assorted Translations
Mama (Swahili): Mother
Mpenzi (Swahili): Darling
"Blitzen," Kingsley hisses at his cat as he follows the animal along. "Blitzen, stop. Come back!"
The cat pauses for just a moment and turns his head, observing Kingsley and letting out a soft, indifferent mew before trotting along. Kingsley groans and gives chase. "Blitzen!"
With another mew, Blitzen disappears into the kitchen. The boy hesitates. He can hear the soft sound of a knife striking against a cutting board and the metallic clang of pots and pans being moved. He isn't supposed to go in there when Mum and Auntie Siti are cooking. They've always told him that children will just get in the way.
Carefully, quietly, Kingsley drops to a crouch. If he stays low, maybe he can reach Blitzen without the adults noticing he's there.
"Really, Hawa, a wand?" Auntie Siti scoffs. "This country has taken you away from your roots."
Kingsley pauses, frowning. The sharp tone makes him want to turn away now and forget the cat, but he can't bring himself to move. He feels glued to the spot.
"I thought you were enjoying your time in London, Siti," his mother says.
"Oh, yes. A lovely place to visit," Auntie Siti says dryly, and Kingsley ducks back behind the door as she steps out from behind the counter, her bright orange and green kanga billowing with each graceful step. "But it was not enough for you to visit, was it? You had to call it home."
His mother comes into view. She leans against the counter with a deep sigh. "I fell in love," she says simply. "Is this not enough for you, sister?"
Auntie Siti clucks her tongue, reaching out for Kingsley's mother. "Hawa, no," she says gently, her fingers wrapping around her sister's wrist. "Falling in love is not bad. But it is the location. This place… European magical families produce more non-magical children than anywhere else. Look at Asim!"
Kingsley lets out an involuntary squeak when he hears his middle name. Luckily, it's quiet enough not to draw their attention.
"Eight years old, and no signs of magic," Auntie Siti continues.
"He is a late bloomer," his mother says. "Just like you."
"Yes, and Mama threw me to the lions and forced my magic out. Perhaps we should do that with Asim."
"They didn't throw you to the lions," Mum laughs.
"You were young. You would not remember."
Kingsley doesn't know if his aunt is telling the truth. He hopes not. The last thing he needs is for Auntie Siti to decide to take him to the zoo.
Blitzen steps out, his silver-white tail swishing. Kingsley makes no effort to draw him in. He has already lost interest in the cat.
"Kingsley is not a Squib," his mother says firmly.
He frowns at that. Squib. It's a word he's never heard before. It sounds like something bad, and his lip quivers. Does Auntie Siti think he's bad?
"I am just saying, Hawa, if you married that boy from Uagadou, Asim wouldn't be- Cat! Out! Shoo! You do not belong in the…" His aunt trails off as her dark eyes lock on Kingsley where he kneels. She frowns, reaching down and pulling him roughly by the arm. "Eavesdropping, Asim? Only naughty children listen to adults talking privately."
Kingsley feels heat flush his cheeks. He knows that he should apologize for breaking the rules, but his curiosity gets the best of him. In place of an apology, he says, "What's a Squib?"
Auntie Siti loosens her grip on his arm. Kingsley can see the sympathy in her eyes as her face softens. "Sit, boy."
Obediently, Kingsley climbs onto to the stool, kicking his feet nervously. Whatever a Squib is, it must be serious if they let him stay in here. "What's a Squib?" he repeats, his voice trembling with fear now.
His mother turns from the steaming pot on the stove, a smile on her lips. "There is nothing to worry about, mpenzi," she soothes, caressing his cheek. "A Squib is a non-magical child born to a magical family. But you are not one. You are a late bloomer like Auntie Siti."
Kingsley swallows, looking between the two women nervously. "You aren't going to let the lions eat me, are you?"
"There are no lions in London, Kingsley," his mother assures him. "Your aunt enjoys telling tales."
"And your son enjoys listening to things he ought not listen to," Auntie Siti snaps.
Kingsley shivers at her tone, blinking back tears. He opens his mouth to beg her not to yell at him, but only a pitiful whimper comes out. Sniffling, he lifts his hands, covering his face to block her out.
Auntie Siti grabs his wrists, moving his hands away. "No, Asim! You do not disrespect your elders like this."
"Siti, enough! You're scaring him," his mother insists, trying to come between them.
Auntie Siti releases one of Kingsley's wrists and moves her fingers in an elaborate pattern, placing a barrier between them and his mother. "He should be scared, Hawa," she hisses. "This boy is a Squib! The world will not be kind to him. I have to prepare him for that since you are too soft to do what needs to be done."
"I'm not a Squib! I'm not!" Kingsley sobs, pulling his hands from her grip and wiping the tears away.
"Then prove it!" Auntie Siti screams, putting her face only inches from his, spittle spraying from her mouth and landing on his cheek. "Prove it! Show me that you have the magic in you, boy!"
"Siti! Stop!" Mum yells, her fingers moving rapidly. "He is just a child!"
"A Squib child! Leave him to the lions, Hawa. It is kinder!"
His heart racing painfully in his chest, Kingsley screams. He doesn't know what happens exactly. His insides feel as though they're made of gelatin. A strange chill washes over him, contrasted by the fire that seems to burn in his stomach.
A yowl rings out, and he sees a blur of silver and white. His aunt screams again, this time from pain rather than anger. When Kingsley turns his attention to her, he realizes the blur was Blitzen who now rests fitfully atop his aunt's head, hissing as his claws dig into her skin. Kingsley nearly falls off his stool as he turns to his mother.
The barrier has fallen, and his mother performs another pattern with her hands. Blitzen levitates, and his mother gently guides the disgruntled cat to the floor. The moment his paws reach solid ground, Blitzen hisses and bolts out the door, steadily yowling angrily.
"Look at that," his mother says cheekily, a smirk on her lips. "My son has magic, and I can still perform without my wand. Anything else, Siti?"
Kingsley bites his lip as he takes in what she's said. My son has magic. That energy inside him, Blitzen soaring through the air. He realizes it was him.
There isn't time to feel proud of himself. He notices the red streaks across his aunt's face. Droplets of blood spring from the shallow wounds.
"Am… Am I in trouble?" he whispers.
Auntie Siti stares at him, her nostrils flaring. Kingsley shrinks back, fearing another strange outburst. Instead, the woman smiles warmly at him as his mother doubles over laughing.
"Oh, my dear boy, you aren't in any trouble," his aunt assures him, and Kingsley is happy that her voice is lighter now, maybe even proud. "London does not have lions, Asim, but your aunt can be just as scary."
Kingsley nods vigorously. "Scarier," he murmurs.
His mother laughs and guides him to the floor. "Auntie Siti could scare the lions just by looking at them," she tells him before turning to the pot on the stove and stirring the contents. "She can also ruin the noodles by causing an impromptu distraction."
With a laugh, Auntie Siti moves over. "Distraction? I brought out your son's magic," she teases. "Noodles are such a small sacrifice. Go play, Asim."
Kingsley nods and runs off. He wants to find Blitzen again and apologize for making him fly. But there's a new desire in his heart almost as strong as comforting his beloved pet.
Now that he knows what magic feels like, he wants nothing more than find a way to feel that rush again. However, next time, he hopes that he can manage it without the help of a scary aunt.