Bratislava, Slovakia
2026
Katherine preferred to be called by her middle name, Jaimie. She hadn't known her parents (they'd given her away when she was young) and she'd hardly known the rest of her family (primarily shady characters across the board), but she'd known how to substitute for what she didn't have in her seven years at Hogwarts. She lay in a bed in a tower in the Braslav Castle, one of several properties operated by the covert but well-respected Northern Council, and reflected on how she'd gotten here. She, Jaimie Stark, had no right to be living her own Cinderella story, but the day she'd chosen to take pity on the great oaf of a boy, called Rickard Reynolds, from Ravenclaw, her own house, was the day her life changed. She played with the engagement ring she'd been getting used to wearing since the official proposal had happened last winter. They both knew that a Handfasting (the term for a wedding in the world of the Northern Council) couldn't happen until next spring, when both Jaimie and Rickard were officially graduates of the famous wizarding school in the Great British highlands, and even considering that they were neither of them yet seen as adults in the wizarding world (she was almost there, being just shy of 17 by a scant three months) the seemingly lengthy engagement felt like a good match for them. At any rate, Jaimie had a lot to learn about becoming a woman of the Reynolds clan. Dame Margrytte Olsttadr regularly reminded her. Nonetheless, Jaimie was very happy with Rickard; he'd become a knight of the Northern Council (more or less an honorary title) upon his Coming of Age ceremony in December, and then he'd be lord over his own castle, where she was invited to make her home when they graduated from Hogwarts.
Sometimes, wonderful as it seemed, it felt like too much. She was not born to this sort of life, and that she had managed to make Dame Margrytte gasp twice the other night at dinner (making her gasp once was a formidable feat) when she announced her desire to explore a job in the Ministry, that had essentially confirmed for them all that she was going to handle the role of Lady Reynolds (eventually) in an entirely new fashion. Demure, graceful, commanding: none of these described how Jaimie identified herself, though each of them described the last string of ladies holding the title she would inherit someday. She'd never hunted this sort of life as other girls might have done; it had come to her one evening when she found Rickard Reynolds hiding in the third floor girls' bathroom. He'd immediately been afraid of her when she came in and saw him there. He was a tall boy, big and strong, the sort that might have a long career as a thug or a bouncer, but when she'd found him, he might have been a small little boy for his courage. Maybe that was when she'd found a soft spot for him. In the present, Jaimie shrugged and continued to play with the ring. It was a beautiful white gold band, shaped into two twisting vines that ended in diamond studded leaves flourishing up to hold a breathtakingly simple princess-cut blue sapphire in the center. Engraved on the underside were Jaimie's initials.
There came a light tap on the door that broke Jaimie's attention from her ring and her reverie. Without waiting to be invited, a house elf entered the room carrying with her a nice tray stuffed with breakfast food. Jaimie blushed: she wasn't entirely used to this ritual either.
"Aslaug," she said as sweetly as she could. The house elf nodded without making eye contact. "Which of these would you recommend?" Aslaug blushed as much as a house elf might blush, and then she set the tray down and went to work picking the Danish pastries, Greek yogurt with honey drizzling, and a nice soft ball of goat cheese, putting them onto a plate and offering them to Jaimie. With a clever grin, Jaimie feigned a gasp that caused Aslaug to look up at her for the briefest of seconds. And in that rare moment of eye contact, Jaimie seized her chance. "Oh Aslaug, I can't possibly eat all of this myself. I order you to choose the food you would like to eat and leave me the rest." If Aslaug was ever known to smile, this was the moment of truth. She selected the goat cheese and a strawberry and cream Danish pastry leaving a lemon and mint pastry and the yogurt with honey for Jaimie. As she set off to run away, Jaimie called her back. "Please, don't let me eat alone, Aslaug." Halting immediately but not without a bigger grin, the house elf retraced her steps and sat on the bed where Jaimie patted for her. Jaimie knew not to push her luck and try to get any information out of her quirky but quickly beloved house elf, so she attempted only small talk that required little more than a "yes, milady" or "no, milady". Instead, Jaimie told Aslaug a little of what she knew of herself.
"I don't suppose you've ever been to America, have you Aslaug?"
"No, milady."
"Well, that's alright. It is a big country, after all. You know, I was raised there, though I was born in Yorkshire. Have you been to Yorkshire?"
"Once, milady."
"That's okay too. I only remember the winter and getting my feet stuck in a bog on the moors. I remember America the best. I grew up in a few cities, but the one I always returned to was an ancient place called Boston."
"Yes, milady." Aslaug blushed and grinned, vigorously attacking her pastry in an effort to keep her mouth occupied from talking.
"I also lived in a big city called Seattle, where it rained a lot. And I lived in a bigger city called Los Angeles where it hardly rained at all. And then also in a coastal city called San Diego, and another up the coast called Oakland. All those places were in a state called California. I remember Seattle a little better than California, I think that's because it was a long time I lived there, and the overcast weather seems so much like a primer to living back in England." She took a bite from her food, chewed thoughtfully and then pressed on. "Becoming a witch was a shock for me. There is a school in the area around Boston where American witches and wizards go… like Hogwarts, but not the same. I believe it's called the American Academy of Magic, but I also remember them calling it Salem College. I don't know which is right. I do know that a lot of wizards and witches attend it though. I didn't know what it meant to be a witch until I got to Hogwarts, and then it seemed like I had a lot more to learn, but I'm so glad I went because I can't imagine my life without Hogwarts in it."
"Yes, milady," Aslaug said, finishing off her breakfast.
"You must have been hungry," Jaimie grinned. "You've finished before me."
"Yes, milady," Aslaug's grin faded so quickly it seemed as though it hadn't ever truly been there.
"Well, I guess there's no reason to keep you from your work then. You may go," Jaimie said with a sigh. Aslaug hopped off the bed and scampered away, a few crumbs flying from the sides of her mouth. When she had gone, Jaimie laughed respectfully, impressed with how much she'd managed to get out of her house elf this morning. At this rate, she decided, she might get the house elf to look at her for more than five seconds. They had time; Aslaug was training to become Jaimie's personal house elf attendant, and she would be paired with Jaimie until the end of her life. Her duties would be not only to serve but also to protect Jaimie, and that meant Aslaug would travel with her mistress wherever she went. In time, Jaimie hoped, she would become a confidante. With these thoughts, Jaimie finished her portion of breakfast and slipped out of bed to begin the day.
Dame Margrytte Olsttadr was a regal sight, even in the morning. She stood just shy of 6'3 and stood tall and straight to emphasize her height. She wore a gown beneath her overcoat – laced with fur on the insides and around the collar – and her golden hair curled naturally in ringlets from her head to her shoulders. She was beginning to show signs of aging on her face – deep lines stretching across the canvas of her face – but her acute mind, sharp as ever, kept her seemingly young. She didn't need make-up, being graced with a natural beauty that it seemed most Scandinavian women possessed, and she embellished her outfits in a minimalist fashion choosing a single set of earrings and a necklace without too much sparkle. On her fingers she only bore her engagement and wedding rings on the same finger. There were many stories about this rising matriarch of the Olsttadr clan, but the one that held most popular across the board was that story concerning her Handfasting with Lord Philip Reynolds. It was said that they had performed the proper ritual elements of the ceremony and at the moment of the hand-fasting, the Olsttadr woman had raised herself up to her full height – eye-to-eye with Philip Reynolds himself – and had called for a wand. "In lieu of the traditional rope-binding of the Handfasting," most stories reported her saying, "I propose an even stronger bond: the Unbreakable Vow." And thus the ritual proceeded, each partner making their vow to each other and sealing it with the powerful ancient spell. The marks on her arm made the story most believable; whenever Jaimie met her future mother-in-law, she couldn't help but look upon the thin but apparent twisting line that looped around the Dame's right wrist, criss-crossing just below her palm.
Dame Margrytte greeted Jaimie in the Great Hall of Braslov Castle. She tapped on the empty leather-bound board in her hand and words began to rise out of the leather binding. "Our schedule," she announced, sharply. "We will both go from Bratislava to Smolenický Zámok. We will visit the students at Národný Inštitút Magického Remesiel, and you will present a medal of honour to the Headmistress in front of the school. You will have to say a few words about her commitment to the excellence of Slovakian magic craft education. I have a speech prepared for you. We are going by train so that they can assemble and receive us on the platform in Smolenice. Is this clear?" Jaimie nodded. "Good. Immediately after we will be invited to tea in Smolenice, most likely with a small selection of students. You will converse with the students and fraternize, but don't be too friendly. We wish to encourage them to be the best they can be, not to be the best. Is this clear?" Jaimie nodded again. "Great. Immediately following this, we will board the train again and return here, where we will rehearse your presentation to the Slovakian Premier. Do you remember her name, Miss Stark?"
"She is Miss Katka Olegsdotter," Jaimie recited.
"Good. You have a good memory, Katherine." The Dame responded. Jaimie knew that whenever Dame Margrytte used her given name, it meant that she was not impressed with Jaimie's delivery. Now Jaimie had to adjust the way she said the Premier's name. She wanted to roll her eyes but she had learned many months ago that it didn't accomplish anything for her except a scolding. Instead, to beat this draconian and often disapproving matriarch, Jaimie would have to exceed her expectations; though Dame Margrytte's expectations were low, her standards were very high: anything short of perfect, Jaimie had learned, was failure, no matter how close. Improvement was not measured or factored into the equation: it was perfection or failure. "And finally, we will dine with Miss Olegsdotter, and my sister will be joining us. And that concludes the day. You have free time after we return to Bratislava following tea, and then again after supper."
"Will I be allowed to see Rickard?" Jaimie asked hopefully, but she received a scornful look.
"When you return to school, you can see him as often as you like." Again, Jaimie wanted to roll her eyes, but instead she bit her tongue and began to plot how to find time to see her loving fiancé. One aspect of the day did seem to please her: Dame Margrytte's sister, Lady Kiriya Olsttadr-Davishkovna. Lady Kiriya, unlike her older sister, was pleasant, approachable and generously friendly. Although she was the last Lady Davishkovna (her only son, Oden, had been born under dubious circumstances and therefore took the family name Olsttadr), many who knew regarded her as the greatest since the War of the Wands, over a century earlier. Lady Kiriya embodied the Davishkov family as it had been in its prime: graceful, clever and kind. If this day was to have a moment in it that shone for Jaimie, it would be the chance to sup with Lady Kiriya.