Hey readers, it's here. The Hogwarts AU I've been working on for weeks. I've mostly outlined what's about to go down, and I have manage to write a couple of chapters, but there's still a lot to be done. NOTE: I DO NOT UPDATE REGULARLY.

Some things I want to put so here:

- A lot of the logic of this story won't be canon to the actual Harry Potter series.

- There is a scene from the PHILOSOPHER'S STONE book, which is weather forecast. (1)

- I am no genius. Edward Lorenz is. I suggest you look him up.

.

.

.

Jack Overland always knew he stuck out like a sore thumb in the world. From his total of eleven years of life, he always knew that. It wasn't as if he was horribly deformed or at least unattractive, his twin looked exactly like him, and he begged to differ that he was the better looking brother. Jack knew he was clever, not clever like Finn's gold medals that hang on the wall, but clever in a way that drifted towards ingenious rather than prodigious, his pranks were an authentic works of his required time, effort and creativity! And lastly he knew he was the much 'cooler' than his suck-up brother.

It has boggled Jack for several years now ever since the day he was born. Well, not exactly, because babies are dumb, but he never knew what was wrong with him, and Jack never really found the perfectly valid reason except that he wasn't a typical boring child.

The Overlands were a perfectly normal family, but unlike most families, they held a strange secret that took form in a young eleven year old boy, and that he possessed extraordinary powers, and personally he had felt like he was cursed.

Cunning, mischievous, and devilishly handsome, Jackson Overland sat on a stool in the kitchen munching away a bowl of bland soggy cereal. He stared ominously at the window, the sun burning the rims of his eyes. The television playing the news in the background, and he vaguely listened in.

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's birds, or to be more specific owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster plastered a bright smile. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Tim McMuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Tim?"

"Well, Howie," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting weirdly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! But I promise a wet night!" (1)

Jack's ears perked up excitedly, grinning to himself, "Most mysterious indeed." He muttered animatedly, a trail of milk traveled down to his chin, and he allowed himself to wipe it with his sleeve, still smiling.

Finn came into the kitchen, carrying a thick book and a pen. His hair was a clean and slick contrast to Jack's unruly locks, and wiry "nerd-specks" Jack had dubbed was extra clean today, and his pants were pressed neatly, and Jack doesn't even look a bit surprised. Finn sat next to him, writing down equations on paper, and while flitting through textbook problems.

"Nice hair," Jack allowed himself a small snicker. "Did you spend five minutes smoothing your hair in the mirror?" He added in a sotto voice, "Again."

"So what? At least I don't look like a caveman with that thing on your head." He shot back. "Would you bugger off? I have to attend GEM later."

"You mean your nerd camp?" Jack said, shaking his head. "I don't know anyone who would attend camp just for math."

"You could, if you had any friends." Finn retorted.

"I don't need friends," Jack defended, little yellow pieces flying from his mouth then landed on his brother's glasses. "Everyone is too boring for my taste."

Finn glared at him over a row of unboxed tea tins. "Boring? You mean normal!" he barked, then proceeded to wipe his glasses vigorously.

Jack pretended to think for a moment, then said, "Nah. I'm pretty sure about it."

His brother gave him a look that strongly resembled of one looking at an ugly animal. "You're so weird."

Jack gave a half smile, "Tell me something I don't know, brother."

"Believe me brother, there's one whole list waiting for you… or a book… make that a whole library of things you don't know." With a snap of his book shut, he quickly withdrew a small pocket mirror, raising and started smoothening his hair.

"Did you just call me an idiot?"

He smirked haughtily at him. "Hmm, You do have a brain." Jack flicked his spooning, sending another wave of yellow edible grain, landing perfectly on Finn's hair.

Jack stared at his own reflection from his spoon, fingering a lock of bedraggled hair. His face was covered in scratches, nasty yellowing bruises, and a faded scar on the side of his brow, and it was due to being a personal punching bag to those Neanderthals that resided in his school. But they couldn't catch him too often, it was a good thing that Jack was as fast as the wind, and perhaps it was because he was smaller than most boys his age. He looked especially smaller with his hand-me down clothes from his older brother Ben, and the oversized blue jumper that curled over his knuckles.

He was Jack. Milk and honey Jack. Weird and knobby-knees Jack. He always thought the best thing on his appearance was his smile, but then that too went away when he started wearing his braces, and he had the misfortune of looking like a cheese grater.

He looked at his brother once more. Finn was palming his hair over and over in complete focus.

"You look like a light bulb." Jack snidely remarked.

Finn made a frustrated noise, "Shut up, no I don't."

An idea popped into Jack's mind. His restrained the smile forming in his face. He focused on his brother's hair intently, eyes locking in place.

Poof!

Jack leaned back from his chair, arms crossing. "Yeah, you do."

At this moment, Mrs. Overland came in the kitchen, holding two cups of tea. Her hair was in a saggy bun. She had her eyes semi-shut, holding onto the fringes of sleep. She yawned ungracefully, greeting the boys, and then she opened her eyes.

Mrs. Overland blinked widely, still clutching the two porcelain cups. "Darling, why is your hair glowing?"

A yellow glow emanated that shone brighter than a thousand suns from the top of Finn's head. Finn quickly grabbed his pocket mirror, and screamed.

"You little rat!" he said, launching himself from his chair, then tackling Jack. Caught by surprise, Jack fell hard on the tiled floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened; the moment Jack hit the floor, he had managed to halt Finn from pouncing him. Finn was slightly hovering over Jack's form, his face in mid-rage.

Jack quickly scrambled away from his position, dusting off his clothes, and stood up fully, before snapping the spell. Finn fell down flat on his face, quietly cursing.

"I hope there's an explanation for this," Mrs. Overland testily said, tucked her arms together in the same fashion. "And make it a good one."

Jack shrugged haplessly, knowing that he couldn't get out of this one. "Uh, He called me stupid." He tried.

She quickly assisted the younger twin, telling him to leave the kitchen. Jack fiddled with the string of his hoodie, nervously smiling, "I won't do it again."

"If you think I'm letting you go that easily, then don't bother trying." She snapped.

"It was just a joke." He grumbled.

She massaged her temples, leaning against the counter, eyes closing. "You must be tired of these lectures, I know I'm tired of giving them."

"Never ever show the power," Jack rolled his eyes. He's recited that mantra for years now. "But Mum! It's Finn, and you know him, He's embarrassed to even say we're related. He'll never tell a soul!" He protested.

Mrs. Overland shook her head disapprovingly. "Using your powers for your shenanigans is going to be a habit. Lord knows how much you've done, such as that one last week."

"That was clever wasn't it? Seriously, mum. You give me no credit."

"Be serious, Jackson. Lots of people are getting suspicious." She said, her hand gesturing towards the window that viewed several buildings that were similar to their own, a busy street filled with people below them. "Mr. and Mrs. Jensen are complaining about the strange animal noises coming from our apartment."

He rolled his eyes. "There's something called television, Mum. National Geographic? It's great."

"How about Mrs. Fitzgerald's cat that suddenly turned purple for a week?" Mrs. Overland interrogated.

"Those darn teenagers! I bet Ben was up to that one, that rascal."

Mrs. Overland made a face that looked like she swallowed a lemon. "Linus's piano started played on its own."

"Ghosts."

"Jackson! Believe it or not, People are getting suspicious, and Sister Kayla is losing her patience with you, it's a miracle that you manage to not get expelled." She said, exasperated. "At least I know you're going to be taken cared for."

"So it wasn't bad enough to leave me in that place? It sucks." He said, crossing his arms indignantly. "I can't shut my powers off like some switch."

"Sometimes I wish it was just like that." She said, placing hand down her weary face. She leaned against the countertop. She motioned Jack to leave her alone to think. A dangerous past time, Jack thought.

Jack had always known ever since he was born that he was different. Everyone knew that. Strange things happened around Jack, and he had trained himself to not feel so surprised anymore. Oddity was a daily occurrence to him.

Once, when he was a toddler, Jack had thrown a tantrum that caused all the lights in the house to go out. Another time was that he had caught a cold and sneezed right in front of his mother's rose garden and by the time she returned, the flowers were sucked out of their red color. And by the time he had aged six, he had managed to make Ben's guitar play on its own and conjure snowballs in his hands.

Jack walked to the living room to watch some television. It was time for some National Geographic. Jack stared at the sky, it was a dull cloudy gray, and suddenly an owl came fluttering past his window, and Jack was so mesmerized by the animal that he did not notice the stray letter on the floor, which ultimately made him fall hard on his bottom.

"Idiot." Sniggered Finn.

Jack glares at him, and sending off a less than pleasant gesture. Jack rose to his feet, rubbing his bottom, and picked the envelope up. Jack widened his eyes as he saw his name addressed on the thick yellow paper, and weirdly enough his exact location. There wasn't any stamp, but a purplish-red seal with animals he recognized: a lion, badger, an eagle, and a snake all surrounding a fancy looking H.

Just then the doorbell rang–– "Dear Lord, I hope it's not another one!" said Mrs. Overland frantically. Jack then decided he would give his mother a break, and opened the door.

A giant person was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden from his sapphire cloak, but Jack could only make out leafy green eyes and bushy eyebrows.

The man was looking left and right in the house. He looked confused, Jack assumed. He looked as if he belonged to a cult.

"Hey, we're not really interested in, you know, religion." Jack said monotonously, leaning against the doorway. The hooded figure looked even more baffled. "Down here."

The stranger stared ominously at him for a moment. Jack shifted his feet uneasily.

"You're not going to pull a dagger on me, are you?" He asked.

The hooded figure snorted.

"You're puny." The stranger chuckled in a deep throaty tone. At this point, Jack had felt a twinge of irritation on his forehead and the desire to slam the door on the seven-foot-something man. "I'm looking for a Jackson Overland?" He asked.

Curiosity peaked. "You're looking at him." Jack said.

"Well, this makes things easier then." He said, the pulled of his hood. Jack widened his eyes when he saw two long ears poke out, a snout, and whiskers to match.

"Jack, You're a wizard." He said, eyes bright.

Jack slammed the door.

His heart thumped against his rib cage, he did the one thing he could do: call his mother.

"MUUUUUUUM! THERE'S A TALKING KANGAROO OUTSIDE!"

.

.

.

.

This is Berk, a small island that is twelve days north of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing to Death is located solidly on the Meridian of Misery.

It snows nine months of the year, and hails the other three. Any food that grows here is tough and tasteless. The people that grow here are even more so. And what really topped the cake was that Berk had a bit of pest problem. And no, not rats, or snakes, or crows, but something that made Berk… Berk… which is–

"DRAGONS!" screamed a common Viking in a blood-curling fashion.

Yeah, you heard that right. Bloody dragons.

Berk was the epitome of tough. It housed the greatest warriors, noblest wizarding families, and strongest thirst for victory. And one of those families was the Haddocks. Line after line, each member lived up to their name. Household names in the whole isle: Gunnar the Great Haddock, Snorre the Nasty Haddock, and Turid the Terror Haddock, and many more. They all contributed their strength and resilience to the community, their names going down in the history, not one a disappointment.

And then there Hiccup.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the III, son of Stoick The Vast Haddock. Milk and knobby-kneed Hiccup. Weak and frail Hiccup.

Oh, Odin.

Hiccup wasn't the best Viking in his tribe. He knew that. It was stated a fact in some book somewhere, but he sure as hellfire know what makes a Viking. His father was a constant reminder to that, and the Berk Dragon Training Academy didn't help with their job of shoving their Barbarian beliefs down his throat.

He was eleven-years-old for Odin's sake! He should make his own decision, right? It was the ripe age for him to be sent away to a wizarding school. Hiccup sighed dreamily at the thought of attending real magic lessons, not the ones they taught in Berk. Hiccup always thought that the traditional Berk magic they taught was a bit too primitive for his liking. Besides, Berk was too obsessed trying to ward of cold-blood flying reptiles, they didn't exactly have the time to sit down, relax, and read literature.

The last time Hiccup did that, he was beaten to bloody pulp by the village boys, and tied his fur underpants in the town square. Not a memory worth to remember.

Hiccup quickly ducked from a swinging axe going his way; it cut through the tree behind in half. He saw small tendrils of his hair landing softly on the ground.

That was close!

He shambled towards an intricate stone house, narrowly dodging the heavy projectiles going his way. He ducked, and ducked, and ducked. Landing roughly onto a rough patch of grass. A red dragon spotted him, and Hiccup quickly deduced it was a Hookfang which was a rather deadly species of dragon. AND IT WAS CHARGING TOWARDS HIM.

Hiccup barrel-rolled to a pose, then hiding behind, fitting his skinny frame perfectly. He felt the flames engulf the pole, feeling the heat graze his clothes. When it stopped, Hiccup scrambled his way, he jumped onto what used to be a cart, and propelled himself onto the roof, running, and running, to not be on time. He was already late.

Dragons weren't the only problem in his life.

Hiccup threw himself to the door, barging in like a madman. "I'm here!"

"Where in the bloody hellfire have you been?!" Gobber, a rather menacing looking blond man, yelled through the ruckus. "We're in rush hour!"

"Sorry!" He hastily placed his apron and gloves on. " I was too busy trying not to get eaten by a Hookfang!"

Gobber stopped, and glowered at him, towering him over his large body. "Hookfang? Hiccup, I told you to stay away from there! Your father is gonna have my head if he sees ya lying burnt to crisp."

He winced at his tone, but then said, "I'm just trying to help! I don't want to be a disappointment."

"Hiccup."

"He never listens, and when he does, it's always with this... frustrated scowl, like someone skimped on the meat in his sandwich."

"Hiccup."

"Excuse me, barmaid! I'm afraid you brought me the wrong offspring! I ordered an extra-large boy with beefy arms, extra guts and glory on the side. This here, this is a talking fish-bone!" He said deepening his voice enough to mimics his father's deep throaty one.

"Now, you're thinkin' about this all wrong. It's not so much what you look like, it's what's inside that he can't stand." Gobber pointed out.

"Thanks for the words of encouragement." Hiccup dryly said.

Gobber made a frustrated noise. "I'm just sayin', stop trying to be something you're not!"

"I'm just trying to be one of you guys." Hiccup snapped.

"Oy, Gobber! Need some more axes." One of the army of Vikings yelled out from the window.

"Coming right up," Hiccup deprecatingly replied, stalking towards the metallic cart full of weapons.

"Oh, and a side of Arrows, but no mallets!"

Hiccup struggled to carry the load of weapons on his arms, his noodle arms were trembling to give up. He then dumped onto the awaiting Vikings, and liking hand feed to chickens, they all plucked their weapon, and went on their screaming way.

"Oh gee, No tip?" He sarcastically said.

Hiccup pondered if this was the life he was destined to do. Creating a bunch of hammers to sweaty Vikings. He felt the dull ache in his chest, as he miserably stared at the red night sky. He lifted a shield from his side, and he stared at his own reflection. A skinny freckled face boy stared back, with too-green eyes, and buckteeth. Matted hair, and a large smear of ash decorated him, and he was sure this was what a loser looked like.

An explosion jolted him from his thoughts, as he searched for the source, his heart had stopped, and perhaps started pumping blood to his enflamed face. The Junior Fire Brigade were doing they're rounds, and in the middle of it all, was Astrid Hofferson. It was as if time went in slow motion, his eyes stayed rooted at her. Her thick braid swishing gracefully from behind, her bangs plastered on her forehead that made him able to see her watery blue eyes, and another explosion erupted behind her.

She turned from her position and locked eyes with Hiccup, and he felt ice in his stomach. He swiftly ducked under his table, his face resembling a tomato. Hiccup slapped his cheeks to return to their original olive color. As he calmed down his rapid heart rate, he heard a bell ring, and not just any bell, but The Bell.

"The letters are here!"

Hiccup felt his heart leap, as he sprang from his position, hitting his head, but he ignored the pain for a bit. He saw from his window, hundreds of owls in the sky, skillfully dodging the dragons, and landing on different homes, he looked around to see Junior Fire Brigade throwing fist pumps in victory, clutching letters on their hands.

Hiccup nervously waited for his letter to arrive, and thought started to scatter. What if he wasn't accepted? What if he was destined to be trapped in the island for all eternity?

Hiccup started biting his lip, tucking it in and out, kneading his hands together. It's been a while now. He felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped in surprise, awkwardly jerking off from the grasp.

"D-dad! You're here." Hiccup greeted, stiffly. "Hehe, the letters are here."

"Yeah, I know." He said gruffly. "You didn't get in Durmstrang."

Hiccup felt his stomach drop, his world crumbling down in tiny pieces. He wished that a dragon could eat him up whole at this moment.

Once again, he failed.

Might as well apologize.

"D-dad. I'm––"

"Hogwarts."

"What?" Hiccup asked, puzzled.

"You got in Hogwarts." He grinned, a rare occurrence itself.

Hiccup felt his eyes widen at his words, his mouth gaping enough for a thousand flies to come in. "Oh Thor, Odin, and Loki."

His father gave a hearty laugh, hoisting his son up, and twirling around. Pride entered his eyes, and for once Hiccup had felt like crying.

"My son got accepted to Hogwarts!" He yelled joyfully.

"Yeah, I did." Hiccup said, and he finally felt like he accomplished something right for once.

.

.

.

.

For Rapunzel's eleventh birthday, She requests for a double rod pendulum. She starts to explain the difference of it between a standard pendulum, because she knows if she doesn't go into specifics, mother will surely buy her the wrong present, and the conversation slowly turns into another one of passionate spiels.

She spends at least ten minutes explaining the dynamic behavior and the chaotic systems before mother cuts her off.

"Rapunzel, darling, is this another one of your little experiments?" she says unimpressed.

"Wha–What?" Rapunzel spluttered. Hearing her work and passion for the theory referred as another one of her 'little experiments' from a woman who couldn't tell a beaker from a bottle of polylotion was a jab to the gut.

Her mother stretched her face widely, looking disdainfully at the crow's feet forming around her eyes. She smiled tightly at her daughter, "Honestly Rapunzel, you're taking these things so seriously."

"It's theoretical, not practical." She exasperated, gesturing towards the illustration on the board. "This is based on thorough understanding the field. Do you think I can actually just use a double pendulum with its imprecise representation of it all? I can never replicate it!"

"Flower," She said in that usual clipped tone that designed for her to feel guilty of her about being so difficult. "What purpose could pendulum—"

"Double pendulum, mother." Rapunzel corrected.

"–Possibly serve you?"

Rapunzel went silent. Truth be told, there wasn't any substantial purpose to it, or at least not a perfectly practical one. It was just for symbolism, like a globe for historians, or a telescope to an astronomer. For her, it was a constant reminder to chaos, not just mathematically, but in life as well. Nature will not let herself predicted! Trust mother to never value the importance of symbolism.

And damn it all, she just wanted one. Wasn't that good enough reason?

Mother placed her hand to her temple, shaking her head in displeasure. "What about that swinging balls contraption? The one with the clanking sounds?" She suggested.

"A Newton's cradle?" Rapunzel guessed.

"Oh yes, that one. It's quite similar in fashion. It's the same kind of science, right?" she asked.

Rapunzel felt another jab, furrowing her eyebrows together, and once again gestured towards the illustration she provided. "It's not the same kind of science, mother. Newton's cradle is to represent the preservation of energy."

"Rapunzel, all I see is a bunch of scribbles." She pointed out.

"Exactly! This is the beauty of the cacophony that is chaos!"

"Can't you just ask for something that I can easily buy? In a gift shop for example." She asked tiredly. "I hear chocolate frogs are all the rage these days."

This was her chance. Rapunzel smiled brightly, eyes twinkling. "You could take me to the floating lights." She revealed a beautiful painting of herself staring across the sky.

Her mother frowned, but then smiled, "You mean the stars."

Then the familiar spark lit Rapunzel, and Mother Gothel once again felt herself prepare for another speech. Rapunzel whipped her hair to a window, and opened it, casting light to yet another illustration.

"The things is," she started. "I've charted stars. They're constant."

"Oh, Merlin." Mother sighed.

"But these, they appear every year on my birthday, mother." She said seriously, then looked back to the painting, her eyes becoming soft, wistful even. "I just can't help feel they're meant for me."

"I need to see them, Mother. Not just out my window."

Rapunzel turn back to face her, but she met only an empty spot, she looked around and saw mother close the door.

"You want to go outside? No, no, no. Absolutely not."

"But I'm eleven years old, I can take care of myself. I've memorized every spell in my books, practiced even! I know how to read locations, read through wizarding history." She said, hopeful. "I'm ready."

"You're ready only if I say you're ready." Mother Gothel growled, eyes narrowing. "Speaking of which, we need to practice some more."

"I can handle myself." She asserted. "A decade worth of training is good enough."

"No, it isn't. You'll get eaten alive, darling. Literally, cannibals." She said. "Poison ivy, quick sand, the plague, men with pointy teeth," She listed on before, she paused for the worst.

"–And Muggles, Rapunzel! Dangerous and awful monstrosities! Disgusting creatures." She spat. Her eyes glinted dangerously at the thought of the vile beings.

"I-I'm completely aware of their existence." She stuttered. "They're… interesting."

"Interesting?" Gothel felt a wicked smile on her face, before changing it to a somber look. "My ancestors were beaten, hung, and burned to death. Fed to the hellish fire of flames, dying of disease." Saying each word with utter hatred. She quickly produced an image of a screaming woman on a stake, fire engulfing around her, with Muggles cheering on with their pitchforks. "A bit of an understatement, my pet."

Rapunzel felt herself shrink from the sight of it, and she quickly hid behind her mother, quivering in fear.

Mother Gothel placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "It is okay, flower. No one is going to hurt you. Not on my watch."

Rapunzel felt a shiver down her spine by her words, but she could never guess why she had reacted that way. Her mother kissed the top of head.

"I will ask again: What do you want for your birthday?"

Rapunzel shrugged haplessly, a small smile gracing her fair features. "New paints?"

"Was that a question?" Her mother poked the top of her nose.

She giggled, "No, I want new paints."

Her mother grinned at her, kissing the top of her head again, and hugging her tightly. "Three days time. Go fetch me my basket will you, darling?"

Rapunzel did just that, and scampered off. Mother Gothel looked at the mirror once again, stretching her features for any wrinkles. She heard a girlish scream, and her blood went cold. She ran towards the sound, positioning her wand readily.

"Rapunzel!" she called. "Rapunzel!"

She followed the golden trail she left, and stopping at finding the petite blonde. She felt herself relax at the sight of her unharmed, but instead jumping up and down in joy.

She walked towards her, pressing a hand to her chest. "Dear Merlin, don't ever do that again, Rapunzel. You gave me quite the—"

But she never finished her words.

Rapunzel clutched the letter in her hands, eyes widening at the sight of it. Her hearts reverberating like a drum. No one, ever, in her whole life written to her. She had no friends, or any close relatives, she hadn't even set one foot out. But there it was, addressed directly to her, even her tower was written precisely.

Mother Gothel faked a smile at the sight of the envelope. The familiar seal was there, showing the legitimate importance of the envelope.

"I'm accepted, mother!" She cried out, "Accepted!"

"Yes, you did, darling." She said, "You did it."

Mother Gothel looked forebodingly at her, but Rapunzel didn't notice, as she was too busy reading each and every word on the parchment.

Phase two is set.

.

.

.

.

"Another attack, why am I not surprised?" asked Fergus DunBroch as he paced around the room, leaving dark footmarks. It had been long exhausting week for the king. Nightmare attacks plagued the kingdom more often now, the civilians were scared, and as king he could not be scared, no matter how terrified he was with it.

He was a DunBroch, one of the oldest and original families of the Wizarding race. The bloodlines of the DunBroch clan were rulers of their wizarding kingdom for thousands of years, and rumors of them being related to King Arthur.

Queen Elinor, his wife, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, staring at him with sympathy. She travelled down to his back, rubbing circles around him. "You're just one person. It's not your fault."

"It's getting more difficult, lately." He said. "My men can barely walk straight."

He walked towards the window, which showcased a wonderful view of the kingdom. Green surrounded the valley, and a large expanse of houses covered filled with families, and he knew each and every one of them. He placed a hand over it. He inhaled the air, then letting out a breathy sigh. The familiar smell caused him to choke a bit, dark magic smelled heavy, and most wizard and witches couldn't notice it.

"It's getting thicker, the evil," He said, frowning. "Not too long before someone can finally recognize it."

Elinor, stared at him seriously, eyes cold as steel, "You must alert the ministry. It's been two months since we contacted them about it."

"Aye, I know that," He hissed. "The ministry are a bunch of sea-monkeys in one whole congregation. They can't do anything."

Elinor looked at him with a mix of anger and worry. She turned, her braid whipping behind her. "If they won't do anything. Then we will." She said, briskly walking towards the wide set of doors, despite that she held her posture straight with grace.

"I will not allow them to hurt our family."

As soon as she stepped out of the chamber, she felt something impact her, losing her grace, and landing ungracefully on the stone floor.

"Your majesty!" The castle maid Maudie yelled in surprise, helping her rise to her feet, clutching the queen. "My deepest apologies!"

"Why on earth are you running, Maudie?" The queen asks, dusting her skirts.

"Well, you see, my queen," She started nervously. "The princess decided to skip her lessons."

The queen blinked widely, before sighing. "Where is she?"

"Uhm, I am not quite sure, your majesty." She laughed awkwardly, shuffling her feet under her long skirt.

Then suddenly a cry of a horse followed by sounds of arrows whooshing came in a distance. She looked at the nearest window, and there she saw it. The princess in all her glory, a blur of red, and green saddled on a hulking black horse.

The queen felt steam come out of ears, and then she briskly walked to the nearest corridor.

Merida DunBroch continued to ride her horse, Angus. She loved the feeling of air whipping across her face, her long red mane flowing behind her, and the feel of adrenaline pumping in her veins. She saw her target across her in a distance, she positioned her bow and arrow in place, she closed one eye and focused on the target, and she let go.

Swisssssh!

"Bull's eye!" She cried in victory, and proceeded to shoot the different objects coming her way.

She looked behind her and saw her remnants, laughing all the way. She affectionately pets Agnus. No Lessons, no expectations, she wasn't suffocating when she had days like these. She grinned when she felt the feeling of freedom. She looked up, and her smile was quickly brought down. She narrowly ducked the branch that came her way. She steered Agnus to her right and then left, dodging the large rocks that wee on the dirt path.

Merida felt herself lose control of the horse. He was going all different directions, and it was too hard to control. Soon enough, she felt herself slipping from her seat. She was going way too fast, faster than she has ever been.

She was going to smash her face on the big tree that stood. She was going in fast, and she closed her eyes in the incoming impact.

But, the impact never came, she cracked open her eyes and she noticed that she was no longer galloping outside the castle, but instead in her sleeping chambers. Although Merida was heavily relieved of not becoming a pile of lasagna on a tree, she still felt the incoming dread. Her stomach curled at the sight of her mother sitting on her canopy. She was not happy.

"Busted." She said out loud. There was no point in hiding her deed.

Her mother stood up, her back pin-straight, hands resting together, as she slowly trekked towards her. She towered over Merida's short height. She glanced down to Merida's attire, raising a questioning eyebrow at her.

Merida looked down to her dress. It was covered in dirt and mud, and a rather large rip was on the side of her dress. She guessed that maybe a stray branch had managed to catch on the dress, and the tearing away it from thigh down to the seam.

"Oops." She winced. She was going to be grounded for a month.

"Merida Elspeth DunBroch, what in merlin's beard were you thinking?" She scolded, in her clipped, unimpressed voice that was usually designed for her to feel guilty.

"Muuuum, princess lessons are boring!" She moaned. "Why can't I just play?"

"Merida, you are a princess! It's preparation for the crown. When I was your age…" Elinor said, telling her tales as a young witch and her school years in Beauxbatons, Merida wanted to groan in displeasure.

There were a number of things Merida immensely disliked, and 'hate' being a too strong word for her, so the first thing was being burnt, she had once when she was younger accidentally set a candle aflame, and was so mesmerized with its movements, and touched it. She immediately disliked the feeling of her skin melting and painful surge it went through her arm. Another thing was a winter, she could never venture too far and it always left her clothes soaking wet, and how people could find it beautiful was beyond her. And lastly, she deeply disliked her princess lessons. It wasn't that she hated learning per se, but she hated wasting long hours of her day trying to learn table etiquette, and to restrain her large hair in a silly cloth, and trying to knot a corset. She could never fathom why princesses were so slow, were their wands so much tied into a tight twist?

"–Are you listening to me?" Her mother asked, eyebrows furrowing together.

"Yes." She lied, nodding her head frenziedly. "But Mum, I don't want to go to Beauxbatons."

"And why not?" Her mother asks, frowning. "It's a perfect place for ladies your age."

"I don't want to be a some stuck-up lady!" She answered shrilly. "Why can't I just be like the other children? Playing around in the fields, getting covered in mud, or at least not wear these itchy dresses?"

"You are a princess," She stressed, her eyes hardening like cold steel. "And soon to be queen."

Merida groaned loudly, clutching her hair in frustration. "Why can't I do anything fun for a chance?" She plopped down on to her bed, her voice muffled as she continued to rant.

Queen Elinor rolled her eyes at her only daughter, a sigh escaping her lips. Sighing was much more frequent when she was around Merida. Tonight, she thought, she will take another long visit to the wine cellar. She took a look around her daughter's bedroom. There was a pile of ripped dresses on one corner, a new racing broom by her vanity, intricate tapestry hung by her wall, and gifts from many noble wizarding families were display in a shelf.

The queen went to her daughter's side, combing her fingers through her thick red curls, slowly making tiny braids. Merida breathed evenly, relaxing to the touch. She spoke softly, "Lass, I know this is hard for you."

Merida grunted.

"It has been for years now, doing all this preparation… I know it seems very challenging and boring for you, but they are very essential to molding you into a fit queen, and I know your spirit, Merida. You will be a great queen, I know it."

"Maybe I don't want to be queen." She mumbles. Low enough for herself to hear. Elinor doesn't hear it, Merida thinks anyways because if she did she doesn't say anything. Merida's ear perk up when she hears a familiar booming sound: her dad's footsteps.

The big burly man barges into the room. A grin set in place, despite the flaming red beard covering most of his face. He opens his arm wide, and Merida springs from her bed, and lands roughly on him. Eliciting a low huff from the impact.

"Da!" She yelled, hugging his neck tightly.

"Calm down lass, Give your da some air." Her mother chided.

She loosened her grip on him, beaming a wide smile. Bright blue eyes shining in anticipation. "Is my letter here yet?"

Her father stared at somberly, putting her down on to the floor. Merida felt her hear encaged in ice. She fell onto the floor like a melted candle, the flame inside her flickering off. She could feel the burning sensation behind her eyes, and she willed herself not to cry. It's been a while since she was eleven, and she always told herself that they were just late. Her mum was going to send her to Beauxbatons, and she was going to be there for seven years and, and…

Her father broke into an ear-splitting grin.

He handed her an envelope.

With the familiar seal, and coat of arms.

Least to say, King Fergus managed to have an arrow seating nicely on his bottom.