This story was written for the Semi-Finals of the Seventh Season of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm writing as Chaser 3 for The Holyhead Harpies.
Name of Round: It's The End of the World As We Know It
My task this round is as follows: Social Science Fiction
These are the prompts I'm using to as a chaser to score some extra points:
4. [quote] 'A cookie never hurts' — Gone, by Michael Grant
7. [emotion] Fear
8. [colour] Green
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Harry Potter.
Thanks to all my betas!
WARNING: Swearing, prejudice, fantasy slurs
Title: A Real Witch
Words: 2,998 (Googledocs)
What's an allegory? Can I eat it?
~End of Author's Notes~
"I'm a witch.
Suck it, bitch."
Sammy had been scribbling couplets in her notebook for a good ten minutes that morning. The sun was only getting higher outside her blinds, and here she was, wasting time trying to hype herself up with a crude rhyme when she had important business to get to!
"Come along, Sammy!" her mum's voice called from a scant few meters down the hall.
"Diagon Alley awaits!" her dad added, with as much energy as if it were him stocking up for Hogwarts.
"Shit. Shit. Okay, I'm coming!" Sammy called back, shoved her notebook into her bag, and found herself frozen in front of the mirror.
Lipstick? Black. Undercut? On point. Freckles? She'd gotten over those a while ago. She looked good, she knew that, but still...she couldn't help staring at her right eye.
There was minimal scarring around the socket, but she didn't care about that. She cared that it was green. The other one, blue, just like her parents', but the green one was a telltale sign of what she was...no, what she had been: A Squib. Someone without magic, like a Muggle, but who knew just what it was to lack it.
She'd spent the first twelve years of her life struggling to accept that. Then some clever clogs in Scandinavia had taken the recent advancements in MagiTek a step beyond and achieved the impossible; an implant that could awaken magic in Squibs. It didn't work for everyone yet; there were compatibility tests, all kinds of things to get it, but she'd signed up the instant that procedure was announced to the public.
The tech was embedded somewhere in her skull, behind her eye, but she couldn't feel that. She felt the same as normal, except for this one side-effect: It turned whichever eye it was implanted behind green. That was why they'd dubbed the implant Odin's Eye; just as he'd sacrificed one of his eyes for wisdom, for power, the Squibs who had the implant would sacrifice an aspect of theirs for magic.
Some people didn't like it. Some people would spot that eye and cast their judgment. There were people who...Sammy really didn't need to be thinking about that morning. She stole one last look at herself, slung her bag over her shoulder, and dashed to the front door of the flat.
"There she is, our little angel!" her dad greeted her, his tree-trunk arms thrown wide open in greeting and a smile on his freckled face.
"Angel? You're officially dead to me." Sammy did her best to deadpan, but Hell, her dad's smiles were more infectious than Dragonpox.
"Now you've done it, Oscar," chided her mum. She was a statuesque woman whose kind eyes stood in stark contrast to her imposing attire, all dark colors and sharp edges. "You've gone and killed yourself."
"Damn." Oscar jabbed his fist in feigned frustration. "What'll my mates say, Melody? The least I could have done is get killed in a funny way, broomstick up the bum, something like that. Now what? Here lies Oscar Winters, handsomest Quidditch coach in Britain, killed by his daughter's embarrassment."
"You don't wanna be dead?" Sammy asked as she tugged her shoes on. She'd rather have her boots, but they were visiting Madam Malkin's later and she didn't want to have to go through all those laces again.
"Not today, at least. We're having roast for dinner." Oscar put his hands on his hips.
"I'd rather he live," Melody added softly. "Finding another husband will take a great deal of effort. And he is the handsomest in Britain. Apparently."
"Alright then." Sammy rose to her feet and pointed at her face. "Colovaria my eye and we're even." The color-changing charm didn't work on the Odin's Eye, because magic was arbitrary like that, but her blue eye could be temporarily turned green. It helped Squibs-turned-Witches blend in, although that was still no guarantee.
Melody and Oscar shared a look. It was her mum who spoke first.
"We could manage it if you'd prefer. But you know we won't be available once you're in Hogwarts."
"And it's tricky charmwork to do on eyes, yeah, I know." Sammy had done all the reading. She knew what to expect, how to handle it, and knew she'd be near the end of her time at Hogwarts before she could cast it herself. "But...I thought maybe today..."
Oscar squeezed her shoulder tenderly. "If you want the Charm, you'll get the Charm, and we'll say no more about it."
Sammy glanced at her dad's kind gaze and her mum's supportive smile and found a little well of courage in her chest. "Okay, whatever, I'll go without it. No big deal, right?"
"No big deal." Melody nodded. "Is everyone ready?"
"Always am, my love." Oscar scooped up his wife's hand and held it tight.
"Always am, my mum," Sammy mimicked, then opened the door and gestured the pair of them through. It was a walk she'd been on a few times before, out of their flat and onto the streets of Leadenhall Market. It was a trip she'd been on before, mostly when she was younger, before she'd found her affectionately-dubbed Mugglebuds and she had their weekly games of Dungeons and Dragons to keep her occupied. But this time was different because this time she wasn't looking at those wonderful storefronts with their wizarding wares through a veil.
She was looking at them as a witch. Her palms were sweating, her heart was thumping, her legs were trembling, and that was before the Winters trio walked into Diagon Alley proper. Not only was it bustling with witches and wizards, but students, too. Some old, some new, and all of them her future classmates.
"Here we are, Madam Malkin's, or her daughter's, anyway! Would that make her a Miss or not?" Oscar pushed the door open to the tune of a jingling bell and then they were inside the purple-hued shop, its walls lined with robes and heavy curtains covering the far side of the room, no doubt shielding someone's privacy.
"You can't go wrong with Mistress," Melody said, deadpan.
Oscar chuckled sensibly. "Wasn't that just for you?"
"You guys know you don't have to flirt once you're married, right?" Sammy asked as she eyed an approaching pink and plum-shaped woman.
"Oh?" Melody quirked an eyebrow.
"Yeah, some people even recommend it. In public. In front of your daughter."
"Y'know, fair's fair, if we're having fun, so should she. How about a cookie?" Oscar reached behind Melody's ear and somehow managed to retrieve a little cookie, the type they sold in rolls at all the shops. "A cookie never hurts."
"Might make me throw up," Sammy offered as she tried not to smile.
"Or get crumbs all over my lovely clean floor, so if you could, please vanish it as quickly as you conjured it," said the proprietor, her shimmering blue eyes settling on Sammy as some flowery scent filled the air. "School robes is it for you, dear?"
"Yeah." Sammy watched her dad vanish the cookie in the traditional way; by shoving it down his gob. "Yeah, that's me. New robes." She met the woman's gaze and clenched her fists at her side.
"Very good. Over here and onto one of the footstools. Shouldn't take very long; I could measure half of Hogwarts in my sleep by now, but I will need you to pop off anything that'll offset my measurements." The woman who was apparently Madam Malkin guided Sammy towards one of the footstools.
Sammy unclenched her fists and let out a sigh of relief, smiling as she did as she was told. She was draped in a robe, various sections were pinned in place, and then, with a flick of a pale wand, it was transfigured. The lumpy robe became a uniform, a proper Hogwarts uniform, with the robe and the hat and the gloves and the shoes and everything!
"Well, it looks alright to me. How about you, dear?"
"I...it's..." Sammy turned to the mirror and saw herself. These weren't her Muggle clothes. These weren't her parents' old uniforms. These were genuine Hogwarts robes, made just for her. She wasn't just playing dress-up; she was an honest-to-God witch. In the days to come, maybe she'd play it cool, maybe she'd have some pithy or meaningful comment about how real it felt, but for the moment, all she could do was smile so hard her cheeks ached. "It's the best!"
"You look wonderful, Sammy," Melody said.
"Like you were born for it," Oscar added, and that made Sammy's heart soar. She hopped off of the footstool, spun around in place, and stared into the mirror again.
"I want to keep it on. All day!"
"Perhaps something a tad more casual for the moment, and save the uniform for Hogwarts?" Melody suggested. "But do ensure it's as witchy as possible, Madam Malkin."
"As you say." With a flick of her wrist, Sammy was wearing a robe just different enough to not seem out of place, but she still felt every inch a witch, so she left the shop with a spring in her step and a bag holding her Hogwarts uniforms. Her mood lasted all the way to Flourish and Blotts, where they and other families were collecting their school books in the stuffy store.
Sammy was humming as she picked up a copy of The New Standard Spellbook and a stranger spoke: "What energy! Wish mine were so excited about their education." It was said in the kind of tone that meant another adult was being addressed; her dad, since Melody had popped off to the ladies'.
"Our Sammy's always given it her all," said Oscar to the woman. "And it's her first year, so fingers crossed she'll still be so happy next time!" He chuckled.
"My! She's tall for eleven. But I can see where she got it from," said the woman in a sweet tone that forced Sammy to wrinkle her nose.
"She was, but doubly so now she's fourteen," Oscar brushed right past it.
"Fourteen?" Sammy, book in hand, turned to face the woman to flash her a smile. The gormless expression on the flaxen-haired woman's face made her stomach sink. "Oh, right, I see. I thought she was a proper witch."
Sammy clutched the book tightly to her chest. "I-I'm...a witch, so..." Why was it when she needed her courage the most, it fled?
Oscar's hand was on her shoulder, warm and solid, but his smile he gave the woman was cold, practiced. "My daughter is a witch. Whether you like it or not."
"Well." The woman exhaled through her nose. "Call them what you want, but she looks like a Squib to me."
"And it wouldn't matter if she were that, either."
"No. No problem with Squibs. But the Greeneyes, well. Deluding themselves, aren't they? They're never going to be proper witches and wizards." Sammy could feel the tears coming. Stupid, stupid old bitch who didn't know a thing about what they were talking about, about her...
"I reckon your idea of what a proper witch is holds as much water as a cobweb cauldron," Oscar replied, as he glanced over his shoulder. "Look, there's the copies of Fantastic Beasts. Let's grab one while there's still room to move, eh, Sammy?"
"Harry Potter agrees, and I think he knows—"
"Shut up!" Sammy squealed at her. "Shut up you stupid! Ugly! Old! Bitch!"
She regretted it as soon as she'd done it, but she couldn't help it. Everyone in the shop was turning to look at her, at the freaky little Greeneyes in the middle of a shop full of proper witches and wizards.
Then there was the sound of several thuds. All eyes turned to the center of the shop, where a teetering tower of tomes had toppled over, and standing beside it was Melody. Worse, the books had started to vibrate.
"Oh bother!" Melody announced, her voice louder than even Sammy's scream had been. "I seem to have misstepped! I hope these aren't copies of Lothander's Leaping Lexicons!" At that moment, all of the books started to leap about the shop like they were competing in the Olympics. Several squeals followed, and Melody caught Oscar's gaze just in time to send him a wink before resuming her act.
Oscar put the book in Sammy's hand back down and led her out of the door, to the street outside and the alley just to the side. Her breaths were heavy, tears streamed down her cheeks, and she couldn't look at him.
"Would you look at this?" Oscar asked as he reached behind Sammy's ear, and in his hand was the entire packet of cookies. "A whole pack! All the better to put a smile back on that face, eh?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Well, keep 'em on you, just in case." Oscar slid the packet into Sammy's pocket. "And let me tell you something, that Harry Potter? He doesn't know a thing, so never you mind what he's hooting about nowadays."
"But the stories said he's kind. That he's brave. That he's loyal and good and all that shit." Sammy flashed back to before she'd ever heard of Odin's Eyes, to imagining going on adventures with The Boy Who Lived, to her first game of D&D, where she played Barry Trotter, the conspicuously youthful Human Wizard, and all the good memories she'd made with him. All of them, tainted by that...horrible man who kept saying horrible things in the news. About so-called Greeneyes. About her.
"I know, Sammy, and it's as baffling to me as it is to you. You'd think someone who'd suffered as much as him, who did such good things for so many people, he'd understand. And you'd think someone who grew up around Muggles wouldn't be so upset about new technology. Trust me, we're not the only ones wondering what made him turn into such a wanker." Oscar sighed. Sammy barely ever heard him do that.
"It doesn't even make sense," Sammy muttered. She'd said it before, but it felt good to say it again. "We can do magic. It's science, proper science, and we can do it as well as anyone else! And those..fuckers are, like, it's not even just us getting it. Uncle Apollo got tossed out of Three Broomsticks and he's got proper green eyes!"
"I know."
"Why can't they just...let us be? It doesn't hurt them. We're not stealing magic or whatever. We're not gonna go Dark just because we were Squibs! If a Squib wanted to kill a wizard, we could do it with a knife! Stab, splat, dead wizard! The magic bit doesn't make a difference!"
"I know, Sammy, I know." Oscar reached out to pat Sammy's shoulder. "And you are a proper witch. So why don't we go and prove it by getting you your first wand, eh?"
Sammy exhaled. "Ollivander's old. I bet he'll hate me, too."
"Then we'll hop on a Portkey to a wandmaker with their head on straight." Oscar held out his hand and wiggled his fingers.
Sammy shot him a skeptical look, shoved a cookie into her mouth, and took his hand. She felt a little better.
Melody joined them along the way, a bag of books in hand and nothing more than a pat on the back to remind Sammy of what happened in Flourish and Blotts.
Ollivander's looked as old as any shop Sammy had ever seen, with wall-to-wall cabinets and wood more weathered than the face of the spindly wizard waiting for them.
"Ah, a new wand for a new witch, is it?" asked the ancient Ollivander, as he rose from his chair with a creak. He peered at Sammy's face, and his eyes seemed to sparkle behind their spectacles.
Sammy just nodded.
"Just so," Melody said.
"Very good, very good. Arm out, please, young Miss." Ollivander retrieved a silver tape measure from his pocket as he shuffled to the shelves, which flew out to Sammy and started to measure her. With a few quick motions, it was done, and she waited for the old wizard to shuffle over to the counter with several boxes in hand. "Over here, if you would; I believe you'll find something satisfying in this collection, yes."
"Already? You've not lost your touch, have you?" asked Oscar, filling in the silence as Ollivander opened a box.
"Pear, unicorn hair, twelve inches, supple," Ollivander recalled. "And you, Miss, spruce, dragon heartstring, twelve inches, unbending."
Sammy's fingers trembled as she picked up the first wand, her parents' banter fading into the background. She flicked her wrist and nothing happened. That was fine, there was always the next one. Ollivander opened the box; she tentatively reached inside, waved it, and there was not even a spark.
She was a witch. Sammy clung to that thought as she picked up the next wand, closed her eyes, and swished. It felt like the earth pulsed beneath her feet, flowed through her entire body, and her eyes snapped open just in time to spot the prismatic flash leaving her wand.
"English oak, phoenix feather core, twelve inches, unyielding," Ollivander recited as tears flowed down Sammy's cheeks. "A perfect partner for any witch of strength and courage, which you..." He paused. "Oh dear. I hope I haven't offended?"
"I..." Sammy sobbed as Oscar and Melody both stepped forward, beaming as they placed their hands on her shoulder. "I thought...I thought...there was, that, that I might not...that...even with the tests, that it wouldn't work."
"Ah." Ollivander smiled. "And why ought it not? You are a witch, after all. Regardless of what you were born as."
Sammy didn't know her smile could grow any wider. "Yeah. But I could always do a bit of magic."
"Oh?" Ollivander's bushy eyebrows rose.
Sammy reached behind his ear and retrieved a cookie.