Chapter 2
SOMETIMES, DESPITE HER ATTEMPTS TO FORGET, Matilda would remember what Ms. Honey had told her, that one day, her life would change. Her family sat on the couch, just like every other day, watching the television as Matilda attempted to get their attention.
Of course, it worked, but then again, if the words 'mom, dad, I'm a witch' left her daughter's lips, Matilda would put down her book and listen too. However, now that she had their attention, she was unsure of what to do next.
"What?" Harry Wormwood never believed his daughter, even when she warned him that their house was being watched by the FBI back when he ran his business in America, only to have to escape to Guam and then Britain when things cooled down.
"Matilda," Zinnia Wormwood was just as displeased with her daughter's interruption of 'Whose Line Is It Anyway.' "Beat it."
"There's a school I was accepted to and-" Matilda still attempted to get her voice heard by the family that was determine to silence her.
"School?" Harry was unamused. "I already sent you to school. Now your job is to sign for packages, you little piss worm."
"I want to go. I'm not getting enough education this way," Matilda was relentless, even though a drop of fear trickled down her spine when her father stood up.
She quickly handed him the letter. "What's this?" Harry grumbled, reading it over with a frown as he glanced back up at her. "More nonsense. I've had enough of it."
They weren't listening.
"What did I tell you about interrupting my programs," Harry Wormwood said, sporting a wicked frown that caused a trickle of apprehension to course down Matilda's spine. She tried to be strong, remembering to straighten her back and look on ahead towards her father who was surprisingly tall, despite how she'd grown. Perhaps a daughter could never really grow to stand equally to a father.
"But dad," Matilda began, trying to display some semblance of confidence, despite the fact that he did cause a wave of uncertainty to wash over her in his cold brush off. Matilda, however, not one to be dissuaded, took a deep breath and preserved.
The noise around her was distracting and she was having trouble with every breath. Her father was talking, her mother was yelling, all spitting out the same message. She felt helpless, alone, and attacked. There was just so much noise and Matilda could hardly breathe.
"Hey buttmunch, move aside," her brother, Michael, was never very kind, and made it obvious when he tossed a carrot at her face. He must have forgotten the last time he tried to do such a thing.
Matilda had always been extremely careful with her powers around her parents, and this was because she saw no benefit in showing them what she could do. If anything, it could make it all worse. However, now that she did see a benefit, she savored it. She couldn't control it, and perhaps that was why she loved magic so much because it could do what she could not.
The carrot stopped mid flight, just before it could smack her face. Perhaps once, doing such a thing requires concentration and squinting, but now it was as effortless as moving her fingers. Her parents were shell shocked when the carrot flew back towards Michael, who had stood up to throw it, and smacked him straight back in the forehead. This caused him to fall back into the recliner in surprise.
However, she was still unsatisfied, so she felt the TV hover from behind her, not intentionally, but perhaps a part of her wanted to break it for the many times her parents used it to hold her hostage.
"I want to go to school. If you want to get rid of me, this is how to do that," Matilda carefully placed the television back down, now realizing what she had done.
Harry Wormwood glanced back down at the letter. "Listen, you little freak, if you want to go then I won't stop you. However, if you think I'm putting a cent of my money into your little fantasy, you're mistaken."
Her family wasn't very surprised with her outburst because perhaps a part of them always knew exactly what she was and it was silently ignored. Perhaps this was why they never actually loved her. It was difficult to love something that was so different from you. That made sense, because Matilda didn't love them either.
"I don't need your money, just your signature." Matilda was pushing her father's temper. She knew that. "If you don't then-"
"Then what?" Harry Wormwood was livid, his hands were shaking, and he might have tanned her hide if not for her next words.
"I'll call the FBI," she told him. She watched her family freeze. "I'll do it. I will."
Perhaps they will never love her, but maybe with magic in her life, love won't matter.
（╹◡╹）
Matilda wished she had threatened her father later on in her summer, because spending the next couple weeks among them was now awkward. Her father found new reasons to raise his hand, her mother spent more hours at Bingo, and her brother spent his time skipping class and showing up late.
It left Matilda home alone, which was something she rather enjoyed. This time, however, her hand rested over the phone in her father's study. The study was locked, being the only area with a phone, but locks never stopped her. She thought about what she could even say, but no words came out and she once again left the study, locking it behind her to meet McGonagall outside the house. The older woman looked so prestigious and proper, causing Matilda to wish she owned nicer clothes than the ones her mother threw together from a thrift store. Matilda never actually got new clothes even though her parents were very rich with her father's frequent money and car scams. She doubted they'd even notice she stole so much money over the years.
She saved it for a rainy day, and that day had come.
"We will pick up your materials and then head straight back promptly in the evening," Minerva McGonagall told her, holding out her arm.
"What are you doing?" Matilda asked when the professor looked at her expectingly.
"Faster travel. How strong is your stomach?" Minerva asked, and this caused the younger girl to feel nervous.
Matilda grabbed ahold of the woman's arm. "Strong. Why?"
"Three points to apparition: determination, destination, deliberation. I'll do the work, just don't think of anything else but going where I need to go."
Matilda followed the odd advice to a T, and in moments she felt the air suction out of her lungs as her body felt weak. She all but fell to her knees and likely would have if McGonagall hadn't thought to link their arms together so securely. Luckily, and it took willpower, Matilda didn't vomit. Instead, she decided it far more proper to stand up as straight as she could so she didn't pass out.
"Let's be quick and efficient," Minerva ordered, carefully aiding Matilda to stand up straight and walk. "You alright dear?"
"Mm," Matilda agreed with a touch of hesitation on her tongue. It was then that she noticed the clamoring of people at her every angle, most in peculiar fashion from dress robes to the occasional wizards hat. There was hardly any room to breathe with the crowd of people and it left the small girl breathless. She barely had time to get out a "wow" before Minerva guided her out of the crowd.
"Do they take British sterlings?" Matilda asked, and Minerva raised a brow at the sensible question.
"No, but that's what Gringotts is for," Minerva answered, watching the way Matilda's face finally lit up with a childish joy that the woman had yet to see of her. It was doubtful that joy came from the mention of a wizarding bank, so Minerva followed the girl's line of sight to see where her gaze rested.
The sight of the girl's fascination with the brooms made Minerva's lips twitch up in a small smile. Without question, the older woman promised to lead the girl back to them when their business was finished. For now, she gently assured the girl towards the bank where they would likely spend not too long to transfer the currency.
"I'm happy to hear that your parents gave you their blessing," Minerva said, watching Matilda send her fascination with every small detail of Diagon Alley.
"Oh yes, complete blessing," Matilda agreed, only to become speechless as they entered the grand bank. The ceiling was far above her and the room was an alluring golden brown, shining from the grand chandelier that rested far above their heads. This was a new world, and Matilda wanted nothing more than to explore it. She wanted to marvel at every wonder and read every book. Simply put, she just did not want to go back to her own world now that she knew this one existed.
Minerva ushered her to the Goblin that sat at the front desk, and Matilda stared up at him as expected. If he spoke to the girl, Matilda didn't hear it. She only stared up at him with her wide eyed expression of wonder. Minerva slightly smiled at the girl's amazement, but time was of the essence so she carefully grabbed Matilda's coin purse while the girl continued to remain frozen.
"Money transfer," Minerva ordered, earning a grumbled reply of agreement.
Moments later, a new bag of currency entered Matilda's hands, snapping the girl from her stupor. She thanked the goblin and Minerva dragged the girl out before Matilda could regain coherency and ask inappropriate questions that were sure to cause the goblins major chagrin.
"What next then?" Matilda asked without hesitation. Minerva McGonagall raised a single brow, but something about the girl softened the woman's normally stern persona.
"Picking out your robes, then your books, your pet if you so choose to get one, and finally your wand," the woman answered in a prompt and to the point tone of voice. She immediately noticed Matilda's disappointment, though unvoiced, and it caused Minerva to cave into the silent plea. "And if there is time, we can look at the brooms. However, first year students aren't permitted to join Quidditch."
Matilda made a promise to research what Quidditch was the moment she got the opportunity. For now, they carried onto the shop to sort out her robes. She took in every sight she could, but she couldn't help but notice that everybody was shopping with their families. This wasn't something that Matilda could ever hope to have in her life, and she felt a pang of longing and of loneliness.
She was grateful to have Minerva McGonagall at her side, but it made her wish, more than anything, that Ms. Honey was there. She wished that those papers could have been signed and she could live in that big house and roller skate inside until they were both exhausted. She wished they could go on picnics and have fun as a family. Sometimes, Matilda could imagine it as if it were real.
Instead, she just grinned and bore it, because there was no use complaining about something she had no power over. She got herself fitted for her robes, noticing, though, that there were two other boys being fitted as well. They both looked to be her age, but one was incredibly handsome.
At least, that was until he spoke.
"I come from a long line of wizards. Expecting to be sorted in Slytherin, that way, all those muggle borns can be as far away from me."
The other boy, the one with shaggy hair and glasses, looked to be just as unamused as Matilda. That much, she could take some sort of pleasure in as the blond boy continued to sprout about nonsense on how pure bloods were the only ones supposed to be practicing magic. Matilda wondered what Minerva would say to this, but unfortunately, her temporary guardian had ditched her here to go pick out her books. This disappointed the girl, since the books were the best part of it all.
The blond boy glanced at the girl when she walked into his line of sight, sitting down on the bench in patience as the head witch finished his measurements.
"And you?" It took Matilda a moment to realize he had been speaking to her, simply because she never got to speak with anybody her age with how controlling her parents were. She didn't go to libraries to chat, and abhorred conversation when reading.
"Matilda Wormwood. Muggleborn. Pleasure," she answered when she realized he asked her opinion on his bigotry remarks. The boy with the glasses glanced up, his lips slightly twitching into a smile. Matilda attempted to look friendly, but with so long not conversing with anybody, she had forgotten how to be properly social. Still, she wanted any opportunity to make friends, but just when she opened her mouth to introduce herself, the boy was called up next to get his robes fitted by the madam's assistant. Matilda sat back with a disappointed sigh, meeting the bigotry boy's eye as he sent her another disgusted glance.
Overall, she just wanted friends and she had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that there might be many people like him that wouldn't like her just because of how she was born. For the first time, she discovered what it was like to become ashamed to be 'muggleborn'.
Before long, she was eventually fitted for her robes when Minerva came with a stack of books on a cart. If the woman noticed Matilda's silence, she didn't comment on it and instead ushered the girl towards a small shop that read Ollivanders. The inside of the shop was not at all small like the outside suggested, and it went far forward that Matilda could hardly see the end. There was shelf after shelf of wands, stacked like books.
"They are beautiful," Matilda whispered, although the inside was dimly lit and rather depressing, there was a certain magic in the air that she couldn't describe.
Minerva glanced over to the small girl with a slight smile, but it was gone when the new voice surprised the both of them.
"They were all created with love and a special core," the wistful voice of an old man darted towards the front desk.
Matilda, not one for stupid questions, asked a stupid question, "is this where I can get a wand?" She scolded herself for sounding like a dumb muggle, but quickly adjusted herself. "I mean, I'm here to get a wand."
"I'll find you the perfect one," he told her.
"Can you tell me more about wands?" Matilda was a natural scholar, ever sense she was small and first discovered the written language. She wanted to know everything.
As Ollivander shifted through many boxes, his moon like eyes peered over towards the small, eleven year old girl, who gazed at him with wonderment. He doubted she wanted to miss a single breath, as if she feared the moment would pass and she'd never know any of the secrets.
"Every wand is made with a different core. No two cores are the same, well, in most cases," he stated glancing away for a moment as he grabbed a small and thin black container, more long than wide. He placed it in front of the girl. "Every wand I make have a common factors: Phoenix feather, dragon heartstring, and unicorn hair. My father used struggle with temperamental cores, so I vowed to only use the best of them and focus my area of practice on them."
"Fascinating," she replied, as she opened the wand case. Her eyes glided over the beautifully intricate designs of the wand, and it was a brilliant brown in color. It wasn't too long, and it was practically dripping with magic, until it reached the point where she could almost see it. She went to ask her next question, but he answered before she could even ask. "That is a dragon heartstring made with alder wood. It's a good, strong wand. Go on. Give it a wave."
Her eyes were shining by the time she gripped her fingers onto it, however, not even moments into her touch, it shot out a spark of fire that glided over the walls. She let the wand go with a gasp, her palms covering her face in surprise. She backed away, only for Minerva McGonagall to snap into action, waving her own wand to douse the fire with a swish.
"I am so, so sorry," Matilda began to apologize, but the man waved her off with a smile.
"It happens everyday. This shop is charmed to not allow fire to spread for that exact reason," he told her, smiling ever so kindly as she felt her own guilt set in like a cold. It raddled her bones, but she nodded her head in agreement even though she didn't quite feel it.
"What if...what if they all do that? Is there ever anybody who can't find a wand?" Matilda couldn't help the doubt that set in, even though she tried not to ask. "What if...none of them choose me?"
Ollivander leaned over the counter, waving his hand so a box flew off the shelves and right into his palm. "I'm not going to lie to you and say sometimes, certain people have a hard time. That, however, doesn't mean you are inadequate. It just means that my specific wands aren't compatible with your level of magic. It doesn't mean that the problem is with you."
Matilda tried the next wand, but it had similar effects. The next one as well, and the next, and the next. Matilda was already beginning to believe that perhaps she didn't belong here when she touched the last wand that Ollivander produced from the back. It was beautiful in design. Curved, wiggly like that of a snake. The hilt was made and carved with intricate flower and vine designs. In her hand it felt so light, yet the magic was so heavy.
"That, my dear, is an alder wood wand with unicorn hair. 10 3/4" with unyielding flexibility. Of all wand types, it is excellent for non-verbal spell work. It is drawn to only the most advanced witches and wizards," Ollivander's words made Matilda have to hide her tears as she held the wand close to her chest as if she were protecting it. "Unicorn hair is prone, however, to die if mishandled. Stay true to your path and it will be a lifelong friend."
"Thank you," Matilda whispered, going to fish out her money only for Ollivander to chuckle.
"I won't hear of it," he said, refusing her money as he glanced over towards McGonagall. "This one is yours."
Matilda felt herself crying, the entire situation much to emotional for her to handle. She quickly reached up to hug the man, mostly just so she could hide her face and partly to thank him for his generosity. "Thank you, sir!"
When she and McGonagall left the shop, Matilda wiped her tears.
"Can we agree that what just happened was a bad dream?" Matilda asked, referring to her sobbing into the shoulder of a stranger.
"Why? What happened?" McGonagall said with a slight smile as she pushed the trolly with all Matilda's school supplies. "Next is a pet, if you so choose to get one."
"No thanks," Matilda said quickly. "My parents would never let a pet through the door."
"Then we've done all that needs be done. What's say we look at those brooms now?"
Matilda's face brightened up more than she had ever experienced in the last couple years. "Please!"