AN: Welcome to the terrible nagging fly that flew around in my brain, refusing to let me have any sleep. Inspired by "Impeaching Modesty" by PeanutButterWhiskyTime and "A Most Auspicious Mistake" from Acacia Carter, I wanted to write another SI-OC work even though I have so many other works going on. Oops.
Featuring SI-OC Audrey who ends up becoming the wife of Percy Weasley.
Honestly, I didn't realize I was in the Harry Potter world until much later in my schooling years.
From when I was born, I had an acute awareness of the world. I understood most of what was written and spoken. I understand the implicit and explicit actions. Memories and recognition were all there, but the processing part got a little floozy. The brain as a series of channels disseminating information from neuron to neurons. The more you think, the more those channels get developed and the easier it becomes to recall something.
This is what I remember:
The plush softness of my cotton blankets. Playing with the neighborhood kids trying to hijack the soda machines. My mother taking me on Sundays to little, small community of Chinatown for grocery shopping. We would venture into the shops for "zhongyao," traditional Chinese herbal medicine and she'd pick up items like powdered horn, animal skin, and congealed blood. I thought nothing of it because traditional Chinese medicine like rhinoceros horn and birds nest exists even though I never understood it.
Little did I know that we actually bought back your typical potions ingredients of powdered bicorn horn, toad intestines, and dragon blood.
I never thought I was consuming action potions whenever I got sick. I used to complain why I couldn't eat those tablet cough medicines, and my mother would look at me sternly and force the ominous brown liquid into my mouth.
"I made this just for you. It's a traditional Chinese cure." Yeah, a traditional Chinese potion made of dragon blood.
Yikes.
Father's job was in the import/export business of agriculture which was actually dealing with rare herbology. Actual weeping willows and sturdy magical wood grew abundantly in the North Americas compared to the rest of Western Europe and East Asia. So, in the end, I always thought that mother was a chemist professor and father was a businessman.
Both highly educated and well earning individuals in society. This all came to a head when my mother took me to interview in a series or pre-schools.
.
"So here is our new building dedicated to astronomy," the women gestured to the grand room ahead. "We take a hands-on approach early at the Packer Collegiate Institute. Our newly constructed ceiling reflects the location of celestial bodies regardless of the weather outside, allowing our students to study the stars to the fullest extent possible."
My mother nodded in understanding at the wide circular expanse. The space was truly beautiful, with glass-stained windows to represent the phases of various moons. Above our heads were the planetary bodies stretched in holographic glow.
"Do they learn the appropriate arithmetic calculations in their studies?" my mother asked, her face blank.
The tour guide's face twisted in confusion.
"Applications to astronomy is quite advanced, typically reserved for our middle scholars. We tend to nurture our students with independent interests and sensory learning before any in-depth instruction."
Mother frowns. You can see any respect for this pre-K institution flying right out the window.
"I see," she tries to respond neutrally.
A little frazzled, the tour guide leads us through the room, intent on impressing her with the next stop of tour.
As for me, I'm a little confused as to what just happened. Was it not weird that a K-12 school had an entire building for astronomy? MY mother was awfully invested in mathematical application to astronomy.
Weird.
I reach out to hold my mother's hand.
"Mama, what's so important about astronomy? It seems silly."
"Astronomy is essential field of learning," mother responded tersely. "It helps for real-life applications in brewing, understanding states of matter, and foundations of alchemy."
She takes a deep breath, squatting down to brush my hair out of my face. "Our family has a long tradition of studying potions and alchemy. I'm a alchemist as our your jiujiu. Your grandfather was a very famous alchemist. Maybe you'll be an alchemist one day too."
She means chemistry, right? Mom, please work on your English vocabulary.
Eager to please, the tour guide chimes in.
"Ah! Yes, the great Master Huang was a wonderful alchemist. You must be the younger Master Huang teaching at the University. It's wonderful to have someone with your magical expertise here. Perhaps we can have you as a guest speaker for some of our upper-class students studying practical alchemy?"
Mother smiles graciously and the tour guide is enthusiastic in ushering her to the assistant headmaster office to set something up.
There I was at the tender age of four, trying to wrap my head around the ridiculous nonsense I just heard.
Words thrown around like "alchemy" and "transfiguration" all wrapped with the neat little bow.
.
Magical expertise.
.
Am I being punked?
.
Sure enough when Mother returns with glossy packets of Packer Collegiate Institute, I shuffle through the brochure soaking in the words describing classes on ancient languages, reading, drawing astronomy, potions, and transfiguration. Words like best pre-K school to attend as a pipeline to the esteemed Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry float across the page.
My first instinct was shock.
Second was the pure unadulterated joy.
Here, here in my new life I could live out my dreams of being an actual wand-waving witch.
Magic alone isn't enough to associate with being in Harry Potter because there were so many stories I grew up with magic. From Wizards of Waverly Place, Winx Club, and even Star Wars…isn't there always that childish desire that you are chosen with great powers and part of secret underground society?! I've also never even heard of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before, so it seemed like I was just in a world where magic was real. I barely had any time to wrap my head around everything before my mother began packing my schedule with focused attention of a commander training her troops. By seven, every day was packed with activities and lessons to the hour. Ever day I was carted off to my various classes and extracurriculars. Aside from normal 9-3 elementary classes, Mondays Wednesdays, and Fridays were dedicated to linguistic studies. Tuesdays and Thursdays were dedicated to math. Saturdays were for piano class and swimming. Sundays were for dancing and calligraphy.
I was a busy busy bee under the tender nursing of my ambitious, highly educated, and terrifying Tiger Mother. To her credit, it was never overwhelming despair I trudged to all my classes, it was sorta the realization that everything was a foundational purpose to appear as an "upstanding witch," whatever that meant. To properly channel magic, I needed to have a firm grasp on the language on various language and their root origins. As a Chinese witch, I had access to special ancient familial magic relating to runes and alchemy, hence the class on calligraphy, the art of detail. The classes for math, music, swimming, and dance were all my mother's way of making sure I was "well-rounded."
So after a rather busy and crammed childhood, I soon sat the entrance exams for secondary learning in North America. While I had already been accepted to the Academy for Salem Witches, it was to my family's expectation that I was to enroll in the best.
Mom-mom was an absolute troll about the whole thing.
She simply grabbed me after calligraphy class one day, piled me into the car, gave me a sandwich, and started driving to the testing site.
.
"You're going to take a test for the next few hours."
Stuffing my face with the ham and egg, I look up at her.
"What are you talking about?"
"Our family isn't a legacy candidate, so our chances of getting into Ilvermorny are not very good. 60% for legacy candidates, 30% of student body for first generation magical, and then 10% through qualifying exams. Your chances aren't great, but it's a good idea to take the exams downtown" Mom matter-of-factly states.
"I'm not ready! Mama, I don't want to do this. Salem is good enough!"
A New York driver honks at her, and Mom scowls in the rearview mirror.
"I already paid the testing fee," she says darkly, "so you're going to sit there and take the exam for three hours. It is not a big deal."
"But I don't want to take a test" I whined petulantly.
She flashes me a cold and dead look capable of flash-freezing a fly. My puffed-up chest subsided. I was so not going to get out of this.
Goddamnit.
.
.
Three tests, three interviews, and four hours later, I met my mom at the building lobby.
"That was terrible," I hissed. "It was absolutely draining, and I can't believe you made me do this!"
She shrugged and handed me a delicious pastry. Stuffing my face like an angry chipmunk, I just growled at her. She just cooed, patted my face, and took me to my favorite bread store to pick up strawberry cake and pineapple buns.
She knows me too well.
.
.
To my mother's satisfaction and pleasure, we got the acceptance phone call a week later,
"Good," she smirked. "Professor Jun has been insufferable lately at the University about his family's illustrious and proud history at Ilvermorny. Really, it's not that hard to get-in. The Jun family lost all their money in Korea and had to flee for the United States. Does he really think his family is that great?"
"Yeah, cuz it's all about showing up another family," I commented sarcastically.
She waved me off, "It's about saving face and familial politics. Try not to get lower than his nephew in the class rankings."
I lift my chin proudly. I may not care as much about familial politics, but I care a lot about crushing my adversities through my intellectual powers.
"Will do," I declared, "I'll crush him like the bug he is."
.
.
Jun's nephew actually turned out to be a really sweet and funny guy.
.
Still, that didn't prevent us from competing like mad for top marks for the next five years.
.
.
In the middle of our fifth year, Rex Jun plops down in the seat next to me. He grabs one of the croissants at the table and pours the carafe of coffee into his cup.
"So, have you thought about your apprenticeship yet?"
Not even bothering to look up from the text of mathematical equations, I shrug idly. "It's been pretty much decided that I'll spend summer with grandpa at the Chinese Institute for Alchemy and then rotate with different researchers. I think Mom and Grandpa have a weird list of what they want me to do. Your father also offered me a spot in his research group and recommended me to a few Korean researchers. Not going to lie, it was a little strange."
"Sorry about that," Jun said. He sighed, long and low.
I glance up at him, poor guy was under a lot of stress.
"He's still upset with you?"
"Yeah. Since I enrolled in the early Auror Corp program, he stopped talking with me," Jun comments bitterly. "I don't exist anymore in the house until I drop out of the program. Mom writes every day about how it's so dangerous to become an Auror."
"They just don't want you to die in a blaze of fire and magic" I remind him cautiously.
Rex Jun is a third-generation Korean American with strong feelings as to what it means to serve one's country. He's a talented and athletic wizard, and he believes in utilizing his skills for Magical America. Somehow that meant enrolling in the Auror Corp early entry program at 16, taking the after-school Auror preparatory classes in Ilvermorny for two years before gaining full commission in the Auror Corp after graduation.
A true career patriot.
I would sneer, bu it's hard though, in the face of Jun's noble conviction to serve. Some days, I don't know how he didn't end up in the House of Wampus, the house of warriors.
Eager to deflect from his life problems, Jun switches the topic. "Did you hear about old White Beard's offer?"
"White Beard" was our joking reference to our parent's British nemesis in the field of Alchemy. Almost every other month, our parents liked to drink wine and complain about good old White Beard. It was all "White Beard rejected my paper again," and "White Beard doesn't know anything about traditional alchemy arts.
Blah blah blah, insert complaining on old batty White Beard.
It's become a running joke between our families by now.
"No," I respond. "What's the ancient coot doing this time?"
Jun smirks. "He's offering an alchemy apprenticeship this year. It's the first time he accepting a student in decades, and he even says he'll open for applicants outside of the European circuit."
"Who would want that?" I scoff. "From what I hear, his work is brilliant but takes painfully long to get anything relevantly useful for application."
Jun shrugs."Well, sure, but from a political standpoint, getting chummy with the great Albus Dumbledore is not a bad idea."
I snort into my book.
"Yeah, like Albus Dumbledore is an actual real person here. No such person exists in field of alchemy, I would know."
Jun looks at me consternation. "You do know that Dumbledore tends to use a pseudonym in academic circles. He uses his middle name for academic papers to avoid the media attention and bias during peer reviews."
My eyes blank in incomprehension, how was a fictional character actually real?
"Do you not follow international politics at all?" Jun asks, exasperated. "Dumbledore is the head of ICW."
No, I don't pay attention to international politics. I've been too busy kicking your ass in class to subscribe to any international wizarding papers. I barely pay attention to MACUSA politics, how was I supposed to pay attention to other crap.
I slam the latest Journal of Transfiguration shut, standing-up with burning purpose.
"Excuse me," I declare viciously, "I'm going to go catch-up on international politics this last fifty years."
.
With that, I rushed off to the library to try and fully understand where in the Harry Potter timeline I have found myself in.
Writer's Notes:
Ta-da! What do you think so far? I really like this idea, so please let me know what you think of this SI-OC so far~