Enter for the International Wizarding School Competition – Round 7 - Beauxbatons

Theme: Beauxbatons: Underdog Rising

Year 7

Mandatory prompt: 13. [Setting] A new house (just moved in)

Optional prompts used: 12. [Quote] "I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy one, I will indulge in the other."—Mary Shelley; 15. [Word] Invisible

Special rule: Write from a given perspective: A Squib

Word count: 2,482

Warnings: EWE - Epilogue? What Epilogue?

Enter for the Quidditch League Competition - Round 4 - Puddlemere United - Chaser 2

Prompt: Freak Show

Optional prompts used: 3. [creature] Cat; 9. [word] Priority; 13. [dialogue] "I feel like perhaps I am not being taken seriously"

Word count: 2,482

Warnings: EWE - Epilogue? What Epilogue?

Submitted for The Houses Competition Forum - Round 8

House: Gryffindor

Subject: Transfiguration

Category: Standard

Prompt: 6. [Time] Midday

Word count: 2,482

Warnings: EWE - Epilogue? What Epilogue?

You're invisible when you're me

Fred looked at the new house and sighed. No matter what he did or what he said, no one ever heard him; he was a spectre in a room full of people.

His parents had never asked him how he felt about moving to a wizarding neighbourhood or how he would feel with everyone around him being able to do magic. Unlike him. Roxie could understand how he felt—only because she was seven, and her magic hadn't fully developed yet.

He wouldn't have thought much about his condition if it weren't for his new neighbours. They proved to him that he was invisible even to those who didn't know him.

"I don't know how George could have given him his dead brother's name. He's a Squib. He brings dishonour to the name of a war hero," he heard one of them say, not seeing Fred standing beside the fence. "He's a waste of time and space, if you ask me."

"They treat him with such concern because of his condition. Instead, they should have dumped him in an orphanage when they discovered that he didn't have magic," the woman replied. Fred put his hands over his ears and his shoulders hunched in an attempt to be smaller than he already was. "He's a freak, and he would have been better off if he lived somewhere else."

Fred tried not to let the hateful comments get to him, but he had often thought of himself that way before. His parents doted on him more than Roxie, and they always made him a priority when they went to the Burrow for Sunday lunches, where everyone else tiptoed around him. Fred was sick of it, but he didn't have a clue how to change things.

He probably wouldn't have thought of doing anything if it hadn't been for what happened a few hours later.

Fred took some time to explore his surroundings, thinking about his neighbours' kids and whether they would want to play with him even if they knew who he was — a Squib, son of war heroes.

It was midday when he decided to explore his new house and see if he could find something interesting. The house was bigger than the flat they had lived in since he was born; it had three stories and so many windows that Fred felt exposed. The sun was at its peak, and the dancing specks of light reflecting off the lake behind the house caught his eye.

The lake had a pontoon jetty that went almost to the middle of the lake. Fred knew his parents didn't want him or Roxie wandering off alone, but he couldn't help but walk straight to it. The dampness of the planks and the algae below made it slippery, and as he made his way along the unsteady surface, he wished it had a handrail

The lake's crystal-clear surface reflected all of him — even the parts that Fred didn't want to see. People always assumed that he was going to be a copy of his uncle Fred, and he wanted to be like him, but at the same time, he wanted to be himself.

For a long time, he just stared into the clear water.

"There you are, love!"

Fred jumped a little, not having heard his mother come over. As he spun around to face her, he lost his balance, his feet slipping on the wet plaque, and he plunged backwards into the lake.

"Fred! No!"

His mother's screams were the last thing Fred heard before the cold waters of the lake surrounded him. His blood thundered in his ears, and his heart pounded against his ribs. The water had seemed so peaceful when he was looking at it, but now it felt like icy spikes were scraping against his skin and making it hard to even think. Fred thrashed, but his smaller stature — and the fact that he didn't know how to swim — made it difficult for him to get back to the surface. He struggled to break the surface of the water but suddenly lost the will to fight. He had never thought that this was how he would die. If he drowned, his family problems would be over.

In that moment, Fred thought that everything would turn out to be okay: his parents would miss him, but people wouldn't pity them anymore. As his world darkened, his mother's arms wrapped around his waist, dragging him upward. Fred wanted to tell her he was glad to let go, but consciousness faded and he knew no more.

"She should have let him drown," a muffled voice was saying when Fred regained consciousness. "This boy is nothing but trouble. Look at what happened to Angelina. The Grindylow would have killed her!"

"How can she recover after something like this? She can't," another voice replied, making Fred wince without them realising. "I feel sorry for this family. After so many tragedies, their son caused yet another."

Fred tried to return to the darkness, but the words about his mother haunted him, and he wanted to make sure that she was okay. He opened his eyes and turned his head, seeing his father crouched over his mother with an anguished face that made Fred's heart hurt. He could see his father mouthing something to his mother, something that he couldn't hear but the tears on his face and his furrowed brow indicated it was bad.

"Mum," Fred whispered. But she didn't or couldn't hear him, and Fred's heart broke. "Mum!"

"Fred!" Roxie screamed, rushing over to his side and throwing her arms around him. Her frightened eyes were so big they seemed to fill her face as she bent over him. "I was so scared!"

"What happened to Mum?" Fred asked weakly, hugging Roxie to him, afraid of her answer.

"She's not waking up — I'm scared, Freddie," Roxie sobbed into her brother's arms. Fred's arms went limp and his face lost the blood it was slowly regaining. "Dad already Floo-called St Mungo's, and they're going there. Grandma Molly is coming to take us with her."

Roxie continued rambling, but her voice was simply buzzing to Fred's ears. His eyes focused on the unmoving form of his mother.

As he looked at his mother's torn and bloodied skin, the neighbour's hateful words resounded in his head. She should have let me drown.

Shoving Roxie aside, he scrambled to his feet and ran. His legs were shaking, and he could hear his father's shouts behind him, but he kept on running. Tears blinded him, but he kept on running.

He needed to get away.

Fred ran without knowing how much time had passed. His tears had dried on his cheeks, but his feet refused to stop; every time that he thought about stopping, he remembered his mother's prone form, and he ran faster.

He ended up in a part of the Muggle city that he'd never been to before. Instead of being scared by the unfamiliar surroundings, Fred felt at ease: if no one knew him here, no one would know what he had done to his mother.

It was the sight of a large purple tent which finally slowed his steps. Attracted by the colour—which was his favourite—Fred walked straight towards the tent.

He remembered his grandfather showing him pictures of something the Muggles called a circus; it was exactly what Fred now stood in front of. But instead of people laughing and eating popcorn while following the bright lights, there were only dimmed lights and almost no one walking towards the ticket office.

"Are you lost, little boy?" a deep voice asked him, and Fred turned, seeing a tall and broad-shouldered man looking at him. The dragon tattoo on his face stood out in contrast to his pale skin. "Kids aren't usually alone in this part of the neighbourhood."

"I'm not alone!" Fred replied, but his voice came out shaky. The man only raised an eyebrow at him. "Please don't hurt me!"

"Hurt you?" The guy looked at Fred like Fred had threatened him, which confused the boy. "I would never hurt a child, especially one that seems lost."

Fred realised that this stranger was speaking to him more softly than any other person had ever talked to him; even with his bulky frame that towered over Fred—Fred's natural instincts had put him on edge—he didn't look so threatening anymore.

"Are you looking for your parents, little one? I don't think they'll be here," the stranger said to Fred, coming closer after Fred stopped trembling like an autumn leaf flying about in a gust of wind.

"I ran away because I thought it was better — I felt like I was invisible to them." Fred tried not to cry, but he couldn't stop tears from falling when he remembered his mother's unmoving body.

"Hey, hey, don't cry. Everything will be okay." The stranger was closer, and Fred allowed him to hug him. "Why don't you tell Gustav everything that's going on?"

At his sympathetic tone, the floodgates opened. Fred told him everything: about moving to a new house, how he never felt like he fit in with his family — without telling Gustav that he came from a magical family — how he felt invisible even when he was surrounded by people, the careless comments people always threw his way, and how he was the reason his mother was probably dead.

"Are you certain about your mother?" Gustav squinted against the glare of the setting sun as he looked down at Fred. "It looks to me as if you've run away before you could discover the truth."

Fred's troubled thoughts stopped. "I'm almost certain about it, but it doesn't matter… They'll never accept me back after what I did to her."

Gustav stayed quiet for a long time, and Fred thought that he would have to run away for the second time that day when Gustav said, "You sound like you need help protecting yourself from what people say to you. I can help you with that — if you want."

"Really? You would do that for me?" Fred rubbed his eyes to stop the tears.

"Of course, little one. You may have run from your family, but here, in this freak show"—Gustav didn't notice the way Fred winced when he heard that word—"you're going to find a new family."

Fred didn't want to get his hopes up, but if the hopeful feeling in his chest was any indication, he thought that maybe he had found his place.

Gustav took Fred under his wing, and for the next two days, always at midday, they worked together: Gustav taught Fred ways to defend himself, teaching him to ignore people's words. Fred thought that he was never going to make Gustav proud, but the man never once lost his patience. To Fred's surprise, he even gave him a cat.

"Why a cat?" Fred asked, looking at the purring feline in his hands. It was a tiny little thing, black with white paws, resembling socks. "I've never had a pet before."

"And that is why this is good for you, little one. If it feels so difficult to stand up for yourself, maybe you'll feel better defending Mr Francis."

Fred thought Gustav was out of his mind, but he didn't say anything to his new friend. Fred was beyond happy at the idea of having a pet, and he wasn't going to let anyone take Mr Francis away.

Fred had been with Gustav for only three days, but he already felt like he belonged there, and with Mr Francis, it was like he was at home.

A week later, Fred was playing with Mr Francis in front of the tent like every other day — the freak show written in bold letters on the front didn't bother him anymore — when three boys came over.

Fred tried not to let their size intimidate him. They were maybe two or three years older than him, all of them tall and built like one of his grandfather's Muggle machines. Instantly, gauging their sizes, Fred knew their fists could wrap around his throat and he would be down in seconds.

"Oh, look what we have here!" One boy laughed. "Look, we found a new toy to play with."

Before Fred could say anything, the boy grabbed Mr Francis, who tried to scratch the boy's arm unsuccessfully.

"Hey, give him back! He's my friend!"

"Look at the little freak, calling the cat his friend." The other boy pushed Fred onto his butt. "This cat is going to be our new toy!"

"I feel like perhaps I am not being taken seriously," Fred quoted Gustav. "I said, give me back Mr Francis now."

"Or what? What are you going to do?" The leader of the gang sneered. The boy looked at Fred like he was a fly that he could squash with his hands.

Fred remembered Gustav's words: 'Don't let other people put you down, they don't have power over you.' His mind was blind with rage, making him curl his fists, and he breathed faster, thinking about what these boys were trying to do to his cat. He punched the first one in his nose, making him drop Mr Francis.

"I told you to let go of my cat!" Fred yelled, punching the boy to the ground, missing the way that the other two were looking at him.

"GET OFF ME, YOU FREAK!" The boy tried to stop the punches, but even though Fred looked frail, he was a good opponent. Gustav had trained him well.

"What's happening here?" came the booming voice of Gustav. "Fred! Let the boy go!"

Fred thought that he wasn't going to be able to stop, but Gustav picked him up by the middle and hauled him off the other boy. The boy's friends helped him up and ran away.

"What happened?" Gustav asked.

"They grabbed Mr Francis, and I was scared they were going to hurt him, and I didn't want anyone else to get hurt because of me." Fred held the little cat with trembling hands. "I remembered what you told me, and I wasn't going to let them make me feel inferior."

Gustav smiled. "It's good that when you're around others that are weaker than you, you step up to defend them."

"Thanks, Gustav," Fred mumbled, hugging Mr Francis, who was purring at him.

"Maybe now you could go back to see your family?"

Fred shrank from the thought. He tried not to think about his family, even though he had heard rumours they were looking for him.

"Maybe someday," Fred mumbled. He was stronger than he was when he ran away, so maybe, one day, he would find the strength to return home. He just needed to have faith in himself.