For the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition

Round Seven: Diversity

Team: Chudley Cannons

Position: Seeker

Prompt: Write a character that speaks more than one language.

Word Count: 2417

A huge thank you to my teammates, who just so happen to be a bunch of the most fabulous people in the world! :D

Also, I took help from Google Translate for the Spanish and French translation and from LingoJam for the Gobbledegook and Cherokee.

THE MAGIZOOLOGIST'S DAUGHTER

Six months ago, if you had told young Nat Ackerman that she would be going to Hogwarts, of all wizarding schools, when she turned eleven, she'd plainly roll her eyes at you and say, "My papa says he's never stayed at one place twice, and neither have I."

Now, however, it was on King's Cross station that she found herself, waiting for the large clock to strike eleven so she could board the shiny red Hogwarts Express along with the other eager boys and girls.

The young girl and her mother stood together on the station, somewhat separated from the rest of the crowd. Owls in various colours soared above their heads, cats yowled noisily, and people in dark cloaks and pointy hats murmured amongst themselves.

Nat had never really been in the company of so many people together. Animals and other magical creatures, yes, but not humans. It was sort of intimidating, she thought, as she scrutinised her surroundings with the deep-set blue eyes she had inherited from her father.

Long, graceful fingers ending in gleaming gold-painted nails clutched Nat's shoulder in a firm, yet comforting, grip.

The clock struck eleven.

It was time.

"Come here, ma cherie," Amelie said in her characteristically calm, lilting voice, kneeling down so that she could look Nat in the eyes and take her little hands in her own.

Nat did not take longer than a second to fling her arms around her mother's neck and bury her face in her shoulder.

"I don't want to go," she mumbled into the patterned fabric of her mother's dress.

Amelie chuckled. "But you were so excited about going to school, darling," she said, stroking Nat's hair.

"I wish — I wish Papa were here," said the little girl.

"I know," sighed Amelie. "But he'll be upset if you don't go to school, ma cherie; and he'll want to hear about all the adventures you're going to have at Hogwarts!"

"OK." Nat nodded, pulling away from her mum. Her bottom lip was trembling, and teardrops clung to her eyelashes. She wiped hurriedly at them, her face taking on a determined expression.

"There's my girl." Amelie smiled, before she pressed a kiss to each of her daughter's cheeks. "Run along, now, love — or you'll miss the train!"

Around ten minutes later, it was a rather nervous and jittery Nat Ackerman that walked into the only empty compartment she could find.

Only it wasn't empty at all.

There was a girl of about her age sitting by the window and staring out of it. Her dark brown hair was cut into a neat bob, and in her arms she was clutching a fluffy white cat with orange patches around the eyes. The creature was facing the door and gazing curiously at the newcomer.

"Is that a part-Kneazle?"

Rowan turned around with a start at the sudden voice. There was a girl standing at the door of her compartment, looking as anxious as Rowan herself felt. She had bright blue eyes and olive skin sprinkled with freckles. Her long strawberry blonde hair was tied into a plait.

"Oh," Rowan remarked, relaxing visibly. "Um — hi."

The other girl smiled nervously, pushing her plait behind her shoulders. "'allo," she said in a tone that told Rowan she wasn't used to speaking English a lot. "Can I sit here, please?"

"Of course!" grinned Rowan.

"Merci," said the girl. Rowan would not have understood her if she hadn't heard her Aunt Fleur say it several times when she went to the Burrow.

Rowan stuck out her hand. "I'm Rowan," she asserted. "People call me 'Ro' for short."

The girl clasped her fingers gingerly, before flashing Rowan a tremulous smile. "I am Natalie. My papa calls me 'Nat'."

"Nice to meet you, Nat," replied Rowan. "You won't mind if I call you 'Nat,' too, will you?"

Ro smiled when Natalie shook her head, before holding her pet up. "This is my pet, Bastet."

The white cat continued to stare unblinkingly at Natalie.

"She is part-Kneazle, non?" Nat asked again, smiling at the cat.

"She is. My daddy got her for us after Mum's cat, Crookshanks, passed away," Rowan babbled. "But how do you know?"

Natalie reached out to scratch Bastet on top of her head. Immediately, the normally stoic little thing began to meow contentedly.

"My papa is a globe-trotting Magizoologist," Nat said. "He's taught me how to recognise magical creatures when I see them. I knew Bastet had Kneazle heritage from that tail."

Bastet began to squirm in Rowan's hold, stretching her paws towards Natalie, who grinned. "Can I hold her?"

"Of course," affirmed Rowan, letting Bastet slide smoothly into Nat's grip and curling up in her arms.

"Wow," whispered Rowan, leaning back in her seat. "So have you seen other creatures as well? Like Hippogriffs, and — and — "

" — centaurs and Thestrals and Demiguises and Erumpents..." Nat went on, counting on her fingers. She looked rather confident now, much unlike the nervous girl that Rowan had encountered less than fifteen minutes ago.

"Wow," Rowan repeated. "Mummy says we're not going to see any of them until at least Third Year."

Natalie nodded. "It's a shame," she sighed, scratching Bastet behind her ears. "I was down for Mahoutokoro, and there they start teaching about magical creatures from First Year. Although, Papa reckons it's not safe for eleven- and twelve-year-olds to go near creatures like Blast-Ended Skrewts."

Rowan felt bamboozled to say the least. "M-Mahuto-what?"

Nat grinned. "Mahoutokoro. It's the wizarding school in Japan."

"Wow! I didn't know they had wizarding schools in Japan!" exclaimed Rowan. "And what's Blast—?"

"Blast-Ended Skrewts," said Nat. "They look like Fire Crabs, but they're a lot scarier. Papa had a friend who was burned by one, and it was only a baby. She had to stay a month at the hospital."

"Ooh, I'd hate to think what a grown-up Skrewt would do." Rowan shuddered; Nat giggled.

"Some people say dragons are more terrifying," she continued. "But my papa and I don't think so. Dragons are easier to tame."

"Yeah, my uncle Charlie says the same thing," Rowan replied. "He works in Romania."

"I've never been to Romania," Nat said. "Papa wanted to go there, though. He really wanted to see the Romanian Longhorn. But we were in Ecuador when he fell ill." Then she sighed. "We had to come back to England," she added sadly.

"Oh no," Rowan remarked. "Is he OK now? Your father?"

"Better. The Healers say it was those Occamies in the mountain forests of Ecuador. They've got an unique sort of poison in their fangs. I can't wait to grow up so I can research them!"

"You know so much," pointed Rowan.

Natalie flushed with pride. "Only because of my papa," she said.

"Auntie Luna says there is some kind of creature called a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Do you happen to know anything about them?"

"Hmm," Nat pondered. "Luna Lovegood? The editor of The Quibbler?"

"Yes."

"Papa loves to read her magazine. He's interested in those Snorkacks. He'd like to meet her, I think. Isn't she a Magizoologist as well?"

"Yeah."

Bastet had fallen asleep in Natalie's lap; she looked down once at her before turning her attention back on Rowan. "I wish Papa'd recover soon. We're supposed to visit India during Christmas. There are some rather intriguing River Trolls there."

"They speak loads of languages there, don't they?"

"Yep. Which is another reason I really want to go there. I love learning new languages!"

"I only know a bit of French, but only because one of my aunts is French," Rowan said sadly.

"Oh, cheer up, I can teach you!" Nat said brightly. "I know a few languages. My family's a mixed lot."

"How so?"

"See, Papa's British. Maman's half-French, and half-Cherokee — which is a tribe in North America, if you don't know. I was born in London, but we moved to France later. I've also been to Japan and Ecuador. And Papa has some goblin friends, so he needs to speak some Gobbledegook every now and then. I've picked up a few words from him."

Rowan's eyes widened. "That's amazing!" she exclaimed. "Can you speak to me in Gobbledegook? Please, please!"

Natalie laughed. Blowing the hair out of her eyes and clearing her throat, she said, "Giku, is meli or Natalie. Moci su liis xua!"

"What's that mean?"

"'Hello, my name is Natalie. Nice to meet you!'"

"I love it!" giggled Rowan.

Nat seemed to be enjoying herself as well. "D'you want to listen to some Spanish?"

"Yes, please!"

"OK. Here you go: en qué casa crees que serás, Rowan?"

"And that means?"

"What house do you think you'll be in, Rowan?"

Rowan tapped her chin. "Mum and Dad were both in Gryffindor, so I'd like to be in Gryffindor too. But I wouldn't mind if I were in Ravenclaw, either. Which house do you prefer?"

"I'd like to be in Ravenclaw, of course, because Papa told me the door to the Common Room asks you riddles, and I love riddles. But I don't think I'm smart enough for that."

"I think you're quite smart, Nat. Wouldn't it be great if we're in the same house together?"

Nat grinned. "Si. Yes."

"I'd love to learn more languages," Rowan sighed, looking out of the window. The sky was dull and grey, and it was raining.

"I can teach you Spanish and Gobbledegook; it was my birthday in May, and my nana got me a book on creature languages — Mermish, Troll and Gobbledegook."

"I can't wait to learn!" asserted Rowan. "Do you play Quidditch?"

"I do," smiled Natalie. "My Maman used to play Chaser in school, and she was a strategist for the French National Quidditch Team until she married Papa and moved to England. She taught me to fly a broom last summer, so I think I am going to try out for my house team."

"That is wonderful. My dad was Seeker for Gryffindor when he was at school, and Auntie Ginny plays Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies."

"Ginny — do you mean Ginny Weasley?" asked Nat, almost in disbelief. At Rowan's nod, she continued: "My Maman loves her! Says she reckons Ginny Weasley is the best Chaser she's ever seen. I think she loves her more than she loves the Chasers in the French national team."

There was the rumbling sound of wheels outside the door and the friendly-looking trolley witch appeared before them.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked in a motherly tone.

Nat's face fell. "I don't have any money," she said bitterly.

Rowan bit her lip, then quickly fished out some Sickles from within her robes and walked over to the door.

Five minutes later, she returned with her arms loaded with Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Custard Creams and packets of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.

"Here," she said, dropping the sweets beside Nat and then sitting down herself.

Natalie's eyes widened, pink patches appearing on her cheeks and her ears turning red.

"You didn't have to," she said quickly. "Honestly — "

"I wanted to," grinned Rowan.

"I'm sorry," muttered Natalie. "Ever since Papa fell sick, all our money is being spent on Healing Potions and stuff —"

Rowan waved a hand. "It's all right; now, try this — ," she said, offering a Custard Cream. "You know Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, right? My parents' friends — Uncle George and Uncle Ron — run the shop. They've got Canary Creams — which is like Custard Creams, but if you eat it you turn into a canary for a few minutes," she went on.

Natalie giggled. "Is it a joke shop?" she asked.

"Yep," nodded Rowan. "And they've got loads of sweets like that; I'll ask Dad to get some for you next time he visits the shop."

"Thank you," said Natalie. "It sounds very interesting."

"It is," replied Rowan as she bit the head off a Chocolate Frog and watched Paracelsus blinking wisely up at her from the card.

"So do you know any more languages?"

Natalie flushed some. "I don't know how to speak Cherokee, but I can write it. My nana taught me how, but I-I hope I'm not talking too much about myself — "

"Oh, no you aren't," Rowan cut her off, pulling her trusty notebook from within her robes, and a quill. "Please, go on," she urged, pushing the notebook towards her.

Nat picked up the quill and in tiny, even script, scribbled a few strange-looking symbols across the paper.

"What does it say?" asked Rowan, peering at the script. Natalie cleared her throat and read the words aloud in some foreign language.

"Hi," she went on to explain in English. "I am speaking in Cherokee. Cherokee is one of the largest tribes in North America. The person who invented the Cherokee writing system and alphabet was called Sequoyah."

Rowan clapped her hands enthusiastically, making Nat's ears turn pink. "You're absolutely fascinating!" gushed Rowan, unable to rein in her excitement.

Nat turned a shade of pink that she thought was previously unknown to mankind. "I—It's nothing," she stammered. "But thank you."

"I can't wait to tell Mum and Dad all about you," Rowan went on. "I really hope your papa gets well soon, so I can meet him when he comes to pick you up before Christmas."

Nat beamed. "I'm going to write to you loads about my adventures in India, then, if Papa does get well by then. And I'll send you pictures. Maman bought a camera just last year. Apparently they also have a kind of pixies in India that infest the farmlands. The Muggles think the crops are on fire, but it's actually those pesky little creatures having a gala time. Gives those poor farmers a right scare."

"I'm going to go see them when I grow up," said Rowan dreamily, heaving a wistful sigh. "Or maybe I could ask Mum and Dad to take me."

"You could come with us, if you'd like," suggested Nat.

"Really? You—you'd take me along?"

"Why not?" shrugged Natalie, tracing lazy patterns on the notebook with the quill. "I've never had any friends because we never stay in one place for more than a year or two, and I'm especially lonely on all the trips."

"I'll be your friend," said Rowan with a wide grin.

"You will?"

"Mhmm."

And there appeared, for the first time since she had entered the compartment, a sheen of delight in Nat's sad blue eyes.