Disclaimer: The Wizarding World and the characters from the Harry Potter novels do not belong to me. However - Verity, her family, and all original deetz are mine - I made them all by myself ⭐️
Author's Note: I haven't written anything in well over a decade, so I thought I'd throw myself in at the deep-end and write an entire series during lockdown. Feedback would be greatly appreciated, I'd love some constructive criticism - lemme know what you think! Thanks - L❤︎ xx
Nestled in the heart of Dartmoor, a valley lay peacefully under a heavy blanket of trees. Within it stood a curious little cottage, hidden almost completely from view.
The walls seemed fit to burst, sagging quite noticeably under the old thatch. The roof was misshapen - peculiar, even - accommodating windows of various shapes and sizes. Far too many windows, if one were to look close enough. A tall, crooked chimney held up one side of the house the way Atlas held the Earth, the musculature of the brickwork straining and popping under the immense weight. A stout greenhouse jutted from the other – the raindrops drummed a pleasant melody on the glass. Gangling plants curled up and out of skylights and crept stealthily through open windows. Outside, wisteria clung to the uneven stone, and the garden had no definitive end.
The house was on the outskirts of a village called Godric's Hollow, on the grounds of the Gryffindor Estate. Walkers often wandered up the footpath near the forest, hoping to enjoy a scenic stroll. Foxglove Cottage, however, did not take kindly to uninvited guests. Should someone stray too close to Griffin's Holt, they would be struck with the urgent notion that something was not quite right. For example, they might have 'forgotten to lock their back door', or they could have 'left the iron on'. That niggling feeling grew more intense the closer they came, becoming unbearable before they had even set one foot over the boundary line. This clever charm had managed to keep prying eyes at bay for many, many years.
A young girl sat at her window, quiet and pensive. Her book, 'A Wizard of Earthsea', lay forgotten at her side. She watched the rain as it snaked across the forest floor, rushing to join the babbling brook that wound around her home. Lulled by the rhythmic pitter-patter and the warbling of a distant radio, she closed her eyes.
Downstairs, her mother cooked breakfast. The enticing smells of a fry-up had wafted their way under her bedroom door, making her stomach rumble. She knew she should probably get up soon, even though there wasn't much to do.
The girl popped her glasses on, the round frames glinting in the artificial light. Her eyes drifted towards the calendar on her wall - 'Monday, 26th of July'. It had been exactly ten days since the Summer holidays had started, and boredom was already creeping in. Her best friend, James, was away on holiday and wouldn't be back for another few weeks. As if on cue, her mother called up the stairs,
"Verity, breakfast!"
She groaned and peeled herself off of the window seat. As she passed the mirror that hung crookedly over the fireplace, her sleepy, hazel eyes drifted critically over the cat hair woven into her dungarees. Freckles were stippled across both cheeks and over the bump on the bridge of her snub little nose. Her long, mousey hair was knotted after a night of tossing and turning, in a style her mother would call 'a bird's nest'. Pulling a face, she dragged her fingers through it and brushed herself off in an attempt to look more presentable.
'There,' she thought, 'that'll do.'
With one last look, she sloped off down a spindly, spiral staircase. She ignored the portraits on the wall as they bid her good morning, tipping their hats and curtseying as she made her way past. Being a witch, this was an everyday occurrence - all pictures in the wizarding world interacted to some degree. The novelty wore off rather quickly.
'Plus,' she grumbled to herself as she passed the window in the hallway, 'it was not a good morning.'
Verity was restless. She spent most of her time reading and exploring the forest she called home – she knew every conceivable path like the back of her hand. It was much more fun with company. The cottage had frequent visitors - friends and clients of her mother's. They rarely spoke to Verity, though, unless it was Alastor showing off his latest gadget. She couldn't even visit her younger siblings, as they were on holiday with their mother, Cara, in Mallorca. Rose, Dexter, and Ted had assured her they were having a whale of a time in their postcards. Verity wasn't jealous at all. Most of the children from her school were already off on their 'holibobs', too.
'Which,' she reasoned, 'was probably for the best.' It was becoming much more difficult to talk her way out of the not-so-random 'happenings' that followed her around. 'It was probably safer at home,' she supposed, glumly, as she plodded down the hall.
Only a few weeks before, one of her pencils had flown across the classroom and smacked Roger McElroy, the class bully, square in the face. She'd had to think on her feet, yet again, explaining that she had been twiddling it between her fingers. She definitely did not throw it. It was a total coincidence and had nothing to do with the fact that he had been firing spitballs at her moments before.
Honest.
Considering the other bizarre situations Verity had gotten herself into, she could tell that Miss Mack knew something was amiss. The Maths teacher had shot her a long-suffering look before turning back to the blackboard. The young girl had found that people tend to get quite upset when they can't explain things away with science or logic. She could feel McElroy's beady eyes boring holes into the back of her head as children whispered and tittered behind their hands.
"She did throw it; I saw her."
"No, she never; it was like telekenenisis. It just zoomed right out 'er 'and."
"You mean telekinesis? What a weirdo. There's something wrong with her."
"Shut up, or she'll get you next."
"Ugh, don't. You'll give me nightmares!"
Verity sighed. She couldn't wait to get out of there.
She couldn't wait for James to come home.
Verity's mother, Fenella, bustled around their cramped kitchen, humming along to the radio. It wasn't a small space - quite the contrary - but it was bursting at the seams with clutter. Books, bell jars, and bits of parchment were hastily stacked into dusty corners or arranged haphazardly on buckling shelves. Herbs hung over the island from racks on the ceiling, along with cooking utensils and other useful items.
Denim flares swished as she darted about the room, nimbly avoiding the pots and pans whizzing past her head and dropping into the sink with a clatter. A thick, green potion bubbled on the stove - the unpleasant smell cleverly disguised by the scent of cooked bacon.
Noticing Verity at the door, she smiled brightly and placed her daughter's plate on the kitchen table.
"Morning, mum. Any post today?"
"Morning! No, no - not yet." Fenella watched the little girl visibly deflate and slump in her seat. "Did you sleep well?"
"No, not really – I had a weird dream."
"Dream?" Said Fenella, her focus on the potion in front of her. As she waved her wand, the spellbook on the worktop flipped open, and she dragged her finger down the page, muttering to herself. Verity picked at her food, pushing it around the plate with her fork.
"Yeah – you know what dreams are like, though; they never make any sense." She didn't think a dream about wolves and dragons could be interpreted as anything other than having a vivid imagination. Verity gestured to the gurgling cauldron, pulling a face. "What's that? It looks…appetising."
"Oh, this? It's the antidote to common poisons. A special request I'm brewing for, hmm - a friend."
"Eurgh, you'd think they'd make it smell less…horrid." Verity's nose wrinkled, and her lip curled in disgust. "Is this friend planning on upsetting an entire army? That's an awful lot to brew for one person."
"Well, you can never be too careful."
"…would this friend happen to be Alastor Moody?"
Verity's mother let out a bark of laughter, "It could be! It would fit his M.O., wouldn't it? Always glugging out of that silver hip flask…"
Exchanging glances, they both suppressed a snigger.
"Well, I'm sure this will go down well…until he assumes you're trying to poison him, too."
Fenella threw a look over her shoulder, tutting. As Verity tucked into her sausages, two furry blurs streaked in through the cat flap. They mewled pitifully like they were half-starved and desperate.
Humphrey, a portly black cat with a tummy lower than his legs were long, made a bee-line for Verity's mum. He weaved himself around her in a figure of eight, causing Fenella to stumble and let out a curse. He visibly drooped when she managed to keep a hold of her plate. Humphrey's meow always sounded either surprised or excited. In this case, he was eager for nibbles. "Wow!" He exclaimed. Fenella threw him an amused glance, fussing the top of his head. As she gave her gloopy concoction a stir, she told him,
"You can't be hungry, you great lump. You've only just had breakfast."
The girl watched as her mother added ingredients into a large copper pot, accompanied by loud pops and colourful puffs of smoke. A pinch of unicorn horn here, a couple of mistletoe berries there…it was fascinating. Verity's mum was a celebrated Potioneer, with a line of potions and tonics sold in apothecaries all around the country. 'Fenella's Funky Brews' was a household name, and one could often find her toiling away over her cauldron.
Her secret, she would say, was the rich soil of the moors and its abundance of 'magical beasties'. She was in the habit of rescuing and rehabilitating creatures in need. In exchange, they would often leave a small gift on their departure - a few hairs, a couple of scales – nothing too fancy. Fenella would also take her daughter on supply runs, pointing out different plants and reeling off their natural properties. At eleven, Verity had more knowledge of the local flora and fauna than someone twice her age. Unfortunately, her mother's green thumb seemed to have skipped a generation, as Verity was unable to grow so much as a weed.
Sensing her distraction, Verity's tabby jumped on the table, struggling to hide behind a pile of books - at his size, it was hard to be stealthy. Archimedes was part kneazle, a feline-esque creature. He stood a head or two higher than your average tom, and twice as long. Black tufts sprouted from the tops of his comically large ears and the end of his lion-like tail. He slowly stuck out one lone paw and felt around, trying to hook a piece of black pudding with his claw. He failed miserably.
"Excuse you, Mister Sneaky Paws, that's not for you." Said Verity, scooping him into her arms.
As she stood up to remove the offending mog, there was a scratch at the open window. A beautiful tawny owl perched on the ledge, clutching something in its talons. Fenella, who had been chastising Humphrey for knocking over her teacup, fell silent - her chiding replaced by poorly hidden excitement. Verity wondered why her mum was so jittery.
Her question was answered almost immediately; a thick, cream envelope sealed with purple wax. By now, her mother was so excited that she was visibly buzzing. She looked from Verity to the owl, and back again.
"I think that's for you! Are you going to open it?"
Fenella was unable to contain herself. Her dark brown eyes looked brighter than usual, and an impish grin stretched from ear to ear. Verity shot her mum a puzzled look, taking the envelope carefully from the owl's grasp.
Miss V. Wilde,
The Attic Room,
Foxglove Cottage,
Griffin's Holt,
Godric's Hollow,
Princetown,
Yelverton.
Flipping it over, the girl was greeted with the 'Hogwarts' coat of arms. A lion, a snake, a badger, and an eagle stood boldly inside, with a banner printed in Latin below. 'Draco dormiens nunquam tittilandus'. She remembered the meaning from her mother's bedtime stories - 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon'. Verity thought this was rather good advice. They had encountered one or two of these perilous beasts over the years, dwelling in caves on the beaches - she knew better than to fuss one.
Her heart fluttered inside her chest as she stared fixedly at the parchment. It had suddenly dawned on her that this was the 'very important letter' she had been waiting for. She sat in a silent state of panic until she heard her mother clear her throat.
"Looks pretty important." Fenella mused airily. "I wonder what it could be? Hmm?"
"Alright, alright – don't get your robes in a bunch."
From her tone, Verity presumed that her mum knew full well what it was but didn't want to give it away. Fear mingling with excitement, she tore open the envelope with little grace. This made her mother wince. She had wanted to frame this particular bit of post and display it proudly in their living room. Luckily, a few rips could be easily fixed.
As Verity's eyes scanned the page, she shrieked and sprung out of her seat.
"It's my acceptance letter! I'M GOING TO HOGWARTS!" She howled, jumping up and down on the spot.
Fenella couldn't hold her composure any longer and promptly exploded with pride. She grabbed her daughter's hands and danced with her around the table. Their squeals and laughter filled every corner of the room in a euphony of sound. Verity beamed so hard that she glowed.
"I knew it!" Gasped Fenella, trying to catch her breath. "Och, I knew it wouldn't be long. I had a feeling it was your letter when the owl arrived. How exciting! Just wait until your nanny finds out, and your aunts…oh, I'm so proud. I must let them know! Sorry, darling, let me just squeeze past-"
While her mother busied herself with the task of finding unused scraps of parchment hidden amongst the chaos, the owl on the countertop gave a reproachful hoot. It was as if he was trying to remind Verity of his presence.
"Oops! Here." She said, realising that he had been waiting ever so patiently for his tip.
Owlio's were the leading brand of owl treat on the market, and Fenella had a soft spot for the postal service. "Only the best for our feathered friends", she used to say.
Once he'd had a few titbits, he bobbed his head in thanks and left. Verity looked down at her letter, and a warm, fuzzy feeling spread through her chest.
'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Miss Wilde,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1st September. We await your owl by no later than 31st July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress.'
She flicked to the second piece of her acceptance package and continued.
'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)
by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic
by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory
by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration
by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi
by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions
by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection
by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
Yours sincerely,
Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus
Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions'
A single train ticket sat at the bottom of the tattered envelope for 'King's Cross Station, Platform 9 ¾'.
Verity was feeling rather giddy. Softly, she exhaled, trying to make sense of her racing thoughts. Verity had listened to fantastical tales of the castle and its grounds since she was knee-high to a kneazle. Except, she didn't quite know how to feel. The part of her that felt excited and happy was dogged by other, unexpected feelings. A part of her that said, 'what if I'm not 'magic' enough?'... 'what if I don't make any friends?'…' what if it's all too difficult?'
Verity's school experience had not always been a positive one. She was the only witch at Godric's Hollow Primary - all the other local wizarding children had been home-schooled. While she had excelled academically, her record was littered with detentions and trips to the headmaster's office. What if Hogwarts was no different? Plus, with all the shenanigans she found herself involved in, there weren't many parents who wanted to have 'that trouble-maker' round for tea. If she was being honest, not many of the children wanted her around, either.
Her classmates often teased her, calling her names and leaving her out because they thought she was 'a bit odd'. The weird girl who made things bang with her mind. The girl who set things on fire and broke things without even touching them. She held a bit more sway with the other misfits, but only because they thought she had 'super powers'. It wasn't enough to be invited to parties or on anyone's Christmas card list.
She shook her head, trying to dispel the negative thoughts. That was just the nerves talking, she reasoned with herself. Plus, James would be there, and her other wizarding friends – she was sure of it. She imagined she'd be receiving a smug letter from James any day now.
Verity could hear her mum's muffled voice through the wall, talking in quick, animated bursts. After a short silence, Fenella popped her head around the door,
"Verity, could you come to the phone? Your father is on the line!"
She paused, wondering what he would make of all of this. John Wilde was a logical, reasonable man, fuelled by science and common sense. He was a muggle, through and through - not an ounce of magic in his whole body, and very little knowledge of the subject. He also had a vivid imagination and a sense of childlike wonder, which often drove his need to figure out exactly how things 'tick'. It must have been torture, being on the edge of a world like that for so long - having your hand around the door handle but no key to unlock it.
At this thought, Verity grinned. It was finally time to get him up to speed.
Fenella was waiting in the hallway, phone in hand. She smiled encouragingly and passed her the handset. The line was a bit crackly, but she heard her father's voice say,
"Congratulations, babe! Your mum tells me you've received your letter for…um, Hagwarts, is it?"
Verity stifled a snicker. He wasn't sure about all this 'magic stuff' - this was completely new territory. On first impression, he seemed to be handling things rather well.
"Thanks, dad. I'm so excited! I can't wait for the Summer to be over."
"Well, that's a first - although, between you and me, I would've much rather gone to wizarding school, too."
"Aye, tell me about it - I'll get a wand and everything!" She paused, searching for the right words to say. "At least I won't be turning people into toads, now, eh? Well...not by accident, anyway."
It may have been an exaggeration, but Verity knew she wasn't far off with her little joke. While there had not been any toad incidents - from what she could remember - some memories would make even the most open-minded muggle cringe. Not only Verity had whacked that horrible wart in the face with weaponised stationery - she had once shattered a window while arguing loudly with her father over the infamous food fight she had started in the school canteen – accidentally, of course.
"I didnae smash it." She yowled as she was dragged up the stairs by one ear. "I wasnae anywhere near it!"
She also had a penchant for levitating things to herself as a small child, some more dangerous than others. Her mother's wand, for instance. It hadn't gone over well; her father was stumped. How were you supposed to baby-proof a house if nothing was out of reach and everything inside it was a potential hazard? He'd had many a sleepless night. Luckily, Verity's younger siblings had shown no signs of magical ability so far - although, bets were being taken on Ted. He had been at the centre of a few 'random happenings' himself.
John listened patiently as his daughter went through all the items on her list, doing his best to follow all of her little explanations and tangents. Before their brief romance had ended, he had never accompanied Fenella to Diagon Alley, or any other places within the wizarding world. His understanding of magic started and ended at Foxglove Cottage.
"…the letter says I'm allowed to bring a pet, too! Isn't that great? Although I don't think Archie would want to leave the cottage, or Humphrey… I'm sure mum won't mind if we have a look for an owl! Houdini's getting quite old now, and mum will still need to use him when I'm away…"
John took a deep breath, breaking through the colourful wall of sound that his daughter had built. "Verity? – Sorry – can I - just –"
"- aye? Sorry, dad, I'm waffling."
He cleared his throat and asked, tentatively, "would you - would you like me to come with you to Diagon Alley?"
"That's a great idea! It'll be nice for you to see how the 'other side' lives."
"Brilliant. Right then, pass me back to your mum - we've got some planning to do."
They would meet the next day in London, around one-ish, at the bookshop next door to The Leaky Cauldron.
The pub itself was bewitched with a shielding charm, of sorts, which would make it impossible for John to find on his own. Unless in the company of wizarding folk, it looked as though the Leaky Cauldron simply did not exist - Verity couldn't wait to see her father's face when it appeared.
That warm, fuzzy feeling had blossomed from a tiny spark to a pleasant glow, radiating from the top of her head to the very tip of her toes. The little girl grinned to herself and snuck Archimedes a slice of black pudding. He'd been very patient, after all.