This is my entry for the IWSC Season 3 Round 7. This is a pre-Hogwarts AU. I hope you enjoy it.
Competition Information:
Story Title: listen to your heart bleed
School and Theme: Beauxbatons: Underdog Rising - Write about a weak character defeating the odds.
Special Rule: POV of a Squib
Mandatory Prompt: [Character] Original character
Additional Prompt: [First/last line] Once upon a time, the world ended., [Song] The Gambler by Kenny Rogers
Year: 4
Word count: 3539
Note: AU. Judges, please see Endnote for details.
listen to your heart bleed
Once upon a time, the world ended…or so it seemed to Julia Alfarero.
A knock on the door could change everything. One moment, her world existed as she'd known it for thirty-four years, and the next, it all came to a screeching halt.
Julia was happy with her life, happier than she'd once thought possible when she'd been exiled here, far from her family and everything she knew. She had a lovely home, an invigorating career, and friends who cared for her. She was alone, but happy.
She stared at the letter in her hands, her eyes blurring in and out of focus as her mind reeled. Dead. Her parents: dead. Her extended family, the few that she'd had left: dead.
The younger brother she hadn't even known she had. Dead.
Shouldn't she feel something more than numbness? She'd spent the first eleven years of her life with her family. They were good people, even if they did feel it necessary to send her away when she'd not received a Hogwarts letter—when it was confirmed that she had no magic of her own. They didn't do as other pure-blood families had done, killing her, or dumping her in an orphanage with nothing to her name.
No, they'd supported her. They'd sent her to a boarding school where she could stay year-round, where she could have a good start to a non-magical life. And when it became clear that tensions were rising against those without magic, especially Squibs, they'd kept her existence hidden, telling people of her demise.
And yes, that hurt. It hurt not to have seen her family more than a couple of times since her childhood. It hurt to learn that they'd had a son she'd known nothing about. She'd had a brother.
James.
His name was James, and he was dead now. They were all dead. And she felt nothing but a distant sadness.
"Señorita Alfarero, I'm sorry to intrude on your thoughts and grief, but there are matters to discuss."
She pulled her attention back to the man who'd delivered the letter. "I'm sorry," she said, her English a little rusty after so many years in Spain. "But what matters?" She stared at the little man in his dark, wizarding robes. He looked so out of place in her brightly coloured kitchen with its shiny, modern appliances, as though he were from a different time, a different world.
Which, in essence, he was.
"The matters of your family's estate. As the current heir is too young to maintain the properties, it's been charged to me to track down the next of kin. Suffice it to say, I didn't imagine I'd find such a direct family member."
She hummed, waiting to speak until she better understood the situation. She was a scientist, after all. She liked to gather facts before opening her mouth.
"We were told that you were dead, of course, and as Sq—er, excuse me. My apologies. As non-magical family members are generally exempt from the normal inheritance lines, you were wholly unexpected."
"Yes, that seems to be a theme for my life," she said, folding her arms. She'd forgotten how ridiculous wizards could be.
"Haha, yes, yes, true enough. Nevertheless, I simply need your signatures on these lines so we can sign your family's magical real estate properties over to a trustee, awaiting the current heir's majority."
Her brain finally cleared. "Wait, that's the second time you've mentioned an heir. You said he was dead. My brother is dead. There's no one else."
The man cocked his head to the side, his brow furrowed. "What? No, no, dear girl"—she suppressed a scowl. She had at least five years on this bumbling idiot. She was not a 'girl'—"James is dead, as is his wife. But there's a baby. Surely you've heard about that, even out here? I mean, I know you're living with Muggles and all, but—"
Her mind was spinning. A baby. "Shut up."
"Excuse me?" he answered, his eyes wide and his mouth drawn.
"I said: Shut. Up. What do you mean, there's a baby? I have a niece or nephew?"
The man shuffled. "Well, the baby is quite magical, you see. Saved us all. Blew up You-Know-Who, and he's only a toddler."
"He. You said he. I have a nephew." She had family. She wasn't the last one of her line.
"Now, dear girl, listen here. The child is a hero and is already taken care of. There's no need for you to bother yourself about that." He looked through his papers, mumbling under his breath. "As if a Squib who didn't even know that he existed would have the right…"
He plopped several documents in front of her on the table.
"I need you to sign here, here, and here." He pointed to several lines in the document. "Then I'll be out of your hair, and the appropriate trustees will be overlooking the boy's estate until he comes of age."
She ignored the papers and slapped her hand down on the table. "No."
"I don't think you understand, dear girl. I know you didn't have the benefit of growing up in our society or of having received a Hogwarts education, but—"
"No, I don't think you understand, dear boy," she snarled. "I am not uneducated. I have received education beyond what your tiny mind can possibly understand. I can look at the very cellular matter that makes up our bodies and explain exactly why my hair is black, why you're near-sighted, and precisely why you have only a limited ability to comprehend this conversation. I do not need you to explain in order to understand that you're trying to keep me out of the picture."
"Well, I never—"
"No, indeed, Mr Coleman. And you never will. I will keep these documents, if you please, but I think it's time for you to go."
She stood, already planning her next moves and eager to get started. The man babbled nonsense about family embarrassments and Squibs as she pushed him to the door and closed it in his face.
Staring back down at the papers, her eyes landed on three words. Harry James Potter.
If Julia knew how to do one thing well, it was research. It was what made her one of the foremost geneticists in Europe. The field had first caught her attention as a girl at the Academy. She'd been fascinated to learn about DNA and the concept of dominant and recessive genes.
It meant that her lack of magic wasn't a fault of her own; it was simply how her body was made. The knowledge allowed her to forgive what she'd previously thought of as shortcomings, and to live her life the best way she could.
The knowledge freed her, and the ideas intrigued her, pushing her to learn all she could. Twenty years later, she was a well-respected member of the research faculty at the Universitat de Barcelona.
Yes, research was her forte. When she'd left the wizarding world—left, been exiled from, either one worked since the result was the same—she'd been an eleven-year-old child, unfamiliar with the politics of the world she'd inhabited. Now, however, she knew what she wanted, and she only had to learn what obstacles she'd face.
The first problem was access. She needed access to the wizarding world: their newspapers, their books, and their records. With her parents gone, she'd lost her last contacts in that world.
So she went searching through the university—for surely, such a large, world-renowned university would have a magical population. She spent days looking for places that might make her lose focus when she tried to stare at them or buildings with more rows of windows than floors in the lifts.
And then, when she found the inconsistency, she stalked it. It took a little over a week before it paid off. The quirky little receptionist at the bookstore showed a student in oddly-fashioned clothing to a door that shouldn't exist.
From there, it was simple. Her new acquaintance at the bookstore led to another at the library where she found everything she needed, years of periodicals at her fingertips. What she learned of recent events, however, had her stomach roiling. Names like Dumbledore, Voldemort, Black, and, to her dismay, Potter, flooded her notes. It'd been months since the end of a war; all brought about by the demise of Voldemort by her nephew.
Harry. His name was everywhere. The Boy Who Lived, they called him, as though that's all he was to them. As though he wasn't the last bit of family she had left.
There was no mention as to where he was or whose care he was in, but one name repeatedly floated to the top. One person who seemed to be in control of the entire situation. One person whom she needed to get on her side to make this all work. It was a name Julia recognised from her childhood.
Albus Dumbledore.
Getting a meeting with Dumbledore was the easiest part of her entire plan.
It was a small thing, the stamp Julia had kept from her childhood—simply a trinket from her past to remind her where she'd come from. A memento. But its use had been invaluable. An owl carrying a letter sealed with the Potter crest had the old man moving absurdly fast.
She was to meet him in two days in London, which would have been inconvenient if she'd not already been in Surrey before she'd sent her letter.
In the meantime, she reviewed the notes she'd gathered over the previous months since that initial encounter with the solicitor. Her brother, James, had married a Muggleborn woman named Lily Evans, making the entire search that much easier. Muggles kept detailed records, after all, and Lily Evans Potter had been born in Cokesworth to Melvyn and Violet Evans. They'd had one other child, Petunia, who'd married a man named Dursley and moved to Surrey. The parents were dead, but the sister…she was here.
Petunia Evans Dursley, wife to Vernon, mother to Dudley, was, according to the neighbours, suddenly caring for a new child who was not her own. A child who had shown up sometime in early November.
Unsurprisingly, Julia's research could find no evidence of this child's existence in those detailed Muggle government records. Dudley's, yes, but this other child? No trace. Which meant she'd found him.
And now, she watched. She wanted a feel for who this woman was. Did she love her nephew? Was she caring for him, nurturing him as Julia would do? Was little Harry getting the love he needed or was the stress of caring for a second child too much for the woman?
Julia spent the intermittent two days before she met with Dumbledore following Petunia. The grocer's, her bridge club, the hair salon, the playground. The woman never saw her follower other than the one interaction at the salon, and Julia was not impressed. Petunia spoke at length about her little Duddikins, gushing about his toddler accomplishments, but she ignored the fact that there was another child dragged along with her from place to place, sneering when Julia asked if there were any siblings.
It only served to fix Julia's intentions towards meeting one goal: obtain custody of her nephew and raise him as her own.
She knew what was in front of her, a single woman with no experience raising children. A woman with no magic—a Squib, they scathingly called her—unworthy to take on a child lauded as their saviour. A woman who lived far from the life planned for this child.
But he was her blood, her only family, and she'd raise him to know the legacy she'd left behind, the legacy that was rightly his.
Julia Alfarero was a smart woman.
When she agreed to meet with Dumbledore, when he all but demanded her attendance, she made sure to plan for several eventualities. First, she obtained legal representation in both the Muggle and magical worlds. She was prepared for a fight, should it come her way.
Second, she outlined all the benefits little Harry would have in her custody, and she secured documentation as to her fitfulness to fulfil the role of his guardian. Alternately, she detailed the care he was currently receiving, prepared to present both lists to the powerful man.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, she didn't underestimate the power that man truly held. He was a political giant, and magically, he was one of the strongest wizards of his lifetime. No amount of distance from magical society could remove her healthy fear of what magic could do. He could make her disappear. He could make her forget. He could make her go away.
But she was smart.
Insurance. She'd left little nuggets of information, scattered around the Muggle and magical worlds as her insurance. Pieces of truth, proof of her claims, slivers of data that could not be refuted in the hands of colleagues, solicitors, and friends. She laid a trail that any Muggle law enforcement officer could follow, and then she agreed on a public place for the initial meeting.
When Albus Dumbledore strode through the modern art gallery of the Victoria & Albert Museum, his presence drew the eye of the entire room. An older man, he was dressed rather well in a tailored, houndstooth suit, his shoulder-length white hair and beard neatly groomed. He looked like everyone's favourite grandfather, and it immediately put Julia on her guard.
Powerful men often downplayed their presence, lulling others into a false sense of comfort. She would not be comfortable around Dumbledore.
His blue eyes landed on her, and he paused, studying her for a moment before approaching. "Ms Potter," he said with a smile, holding out his hand.
"Ms Alfarero, if you please." Taking his outstretched hand, she gave it a firm shake, pleased that she was steady and her hand didn't betray her nerves. She gestured to a bench in the centre of the gallery where a passing tour guide was speaking to a group, and they sat
As the group moved on to the next painting, Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I must say, Ms Alfarero, I was rather surprised to learn of your existence. Your father was a dear friend and appeared most affected when he told me of your passing."
"Yes, well, learning your only child and supposed heir has no magic will do that, I'm told." She made sure there was no bitterness in her tone, only fact.
"I'm so sorry that our world is not more accepting," Dumbledore said quietly, and he did sound sorry. She almost believed him.
But she wasn't here for that, so it didn't matter. "I was only recently made aware of the happenings of the last year and their impact on my family, Mr Dumbledore."
"Albus, please."
She shook her head. "Mr Dumbledore, this is not a social call. I am quite aware that the placement of my nephew with his mother's family is your doing. As you didn't know of my existence, I can hardly fault you for such a choice. However, I intend to contest this placement and have every intention of raising my nephew myself."
Dumbledore's blue eyes hardened, but he made no other sign of his thoughts. "Go on," he said, his voice calm.
"When I first returned to England, my goal was to assure his happiness. If he was settled with his new family, I had intentions of simply being a part of the boy's life, teaching him about our family and supporting him peripherally."
"But that's not your goal now?" He crossed his legs and leaned back on his hands as if he had no vested interest in the conversation; as if it were of no more importance than the weather.
"No," she said, keeping her voice direct and firm the way she would with a new lab assistant. "No, it is not." She reached into her satchel and removed a copy of the documents she'd prepared. "On top, you'll find an accounting of Mrs Petunia Dursley's treatment of the child, both from my own observation and that of her neighbours. I've not been in the home, but the child does not seem well cared for, nor does she seem to actually want him."
"Mrs Dursley is a busy woman with a husband and child. Do you think you could do better?" Dumbledore asked, sounding intrigued as he flipped through the papers. "What experience do you have with children?"
"What experience does she have with magical ones?" she demanded, her stomach twisting at the thought of her nephew in that woman's care.
"Her sister was magical."
"And wasn't allowed to practice magic at home or around her family. So, I ask you again, what experience does Petunia Dursley have with magic?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Very little. But I could ask the same of you. You have no magic, do you?"
She forced herself not to be goaded. "You know I don't. But I was raised around it. I was raised to understand it and to know the magical world, magical history, and the legacy of the Potter family. I was raised to respect magic, but I have also come to respect the inherent magic of the mundane world."
He cocked his head now, a strange sparkle appearing in his eyes. "Go on, please. What do you mean by that?"
She held his gaze. "The magic of life, Mr Dumbledore. I'm a scientist; I study the building blocks of life. There's magic in all of it—the cells that create lifeforms, the habitats that surround those lifeforms, the very matter of the solar system. It's all magic in its own way. I wasn't born with wizarding magic, but I know magic."
Dumbledore smiled gently. "That's rather lovely," he replied after a moment. He seemed to be searching her face and then let out a long sigh. "I'm almost tempted, actually. But Ms Alfarero, little Harry is a hero in our world—"
She couldn't seem to contain the scoff she felt at that, and he chuckled.
"—but more than that, he's in danger."
She narrowed her eyes. "I am not a danger. I hardly imagine you'd have agreed to meet without finding out everything you could about me first."
He raised his eyebrows, and when he spoke, he sounded surprised. "True enough. You are who you say you are, but Harry enjoys a unique type of protection while living in the house of his mother's blood. It's a protection you can't offer."
She inhaled sharply. That was the missing information. She'd known there was something, some reason, and blood magic was strong. But…
"Does it protect him when he's away from the house? While he's at school someday, or at the grocer's, or playing in the park with his friends? Will it hide him from those who wish to harm him?"
"It will protect him from Voldemort, and it will protect him in his home."
She smiled at the evasion. "That's not what I asked. Mr Dumbledore, I was young, but I remember my father's many complaints with your Ministry. There are those there who hold undue influence, are there not?"
He gave a slight nod.
"I can offer a life away from all of that. A good life in another country where nobody knows who Harry Potter is beyond a few headlines in a distant newspaper. I can raise him to know his heritage, to appreciate it, but also to appreciate life for what it has to offer. No Death Eaters, no wizards, just an auntie and her nephew. A family." She exhaled and added quietly, "Love."
She had no idea what made her add that last word. This was no time for sentimentality, but Dumbledore blinked, and his face brightened before he closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly. "I'll need to put protections around your home, and he has a place already at Hogwarts when he's eleven. Will you promise to bring him back?"
She froze. She'd done it? That easily? "Of course. I plan on opening Potter Manor when he's older and coming back periodically so he knows where he comes from."
"That's important," Dumbledore said, opening his eyes again. They looked slightly glassy, but she supposed it was likely just the light.
"You can place whatever protections you need on our home. I want him to be safe and happy."
Dumbledore smiled and stood, offering his hand to help her stand. "Me too, dear lady. Me too."
"Ju-ya," Harry said, wrapping his little arms around her neck and making her heart swell. "Home?"
Julia walked Harry through the house about which she'd been telling him for two weeks—ever since the day she'd taken him away from Privet Drive. Neither he nor the Dursleys had complained.
"Yes, Harry, and here's your room." She held her breath, eager for his reaction.
His green eyes grew wide. "My room?"
"Yes, nadó, your room. See? That's your bed."
"My bed," Harry echoed, and he buried his face in her neck. "My fammy."
Julia's eyes watered, and she squeezed the small boy. "My family."
Once upon a time, the world started anew.
Finis
Endnote for judging: This is an AU where James Potter had an older sister he didn't know about. All other plot points up until the time of the story happen as we know them.
The title is taken from the lyrics of End of the World As We Know It (and I feel fine) by REM