Disclaimer: You don't need it and I don't claim it. You know nothing's on me.
To Anahissa: Thank you. I hope I don't take too much of the good stuff away.
Chapter Three:
An Entirely Different World
Forks, Washington…
"Claire," Emily called, worriedly.
Claire looked over to her aunt Emily.
She was a beautiful little girl now, Emily thought. And she looked so much like…
She swallowed to suppress the pain.
Don't think about it, she advised herself. Don't start- not now.
She was gone. Claire had lost a mother and a sister, just as Emily had lost a sister and a niece. And now she had taken responsibility for Claire's upbringing and wellbeing. Emily had lost two sisters: Leah and Emmy. She wasn't going to lose her niece.
She'd be damned. She only had Sam and Claire left and the Pack.
But Claire was currently showing a mysterious ability which befuddled not only the Pack but the tribal elders.
She was able to make things move with just her mind. Things broke, mended, floated or just shifted according to her will or emotions it seemed. Whenever she was distressed, upset, hurt, angry or afraid.
And more. Emily had been called to school when she heard that Claire had been climbing the school buildings. She'd sworn up and down that she only ever tried to get away from some bullies, and by the shocked, stunned look on her own face, Emily had no doubt it was true.
Then came the episode where she had seen some of the Pack cliff-diving. Emily and Sam trusted all of them not to cliff-dive in front of Claire- least she got ideas. But Claire had seen them and panicked. She ran out, just as one of them- Collin, she believed- had jumped. The other boys turned panicked at her arrival, but she held out her hands and Collin floated in midair, before landing slowly and gently on the ground. He'd tried not to freak out, so did the others.
There were flowers blooming and wilting, water boiling or cooling according to her niece's moods. She had seen one particularly rowdy and disruptive tourist's hair turn a horrible shade of neon green all of a sudden.
In school, or around town, Emily discussed this with Sam, who discussed it with Quil and the elders. They decided it was for the best: Claire would be taken out of school, educated at home, and kept out of harm's way and anyone else's view, where no one would see her and those unused to the supernatural would freak, take her away and worse. Quil had panicked at that. They all did.
So the Pack and the tribal elders decided that Claire would be completely hidden from the outside world- no playdates with anyone who didn't know, no school, no shopping trips around town- nothing.
But it pained them to realise that she was so isolated- alone. She only had the pack and her extended family.
"Hey," Claire walked up to her. She was ten, eleven this year.
Emily sighed. She looked down at her niece. "Claire, sweetie, what did I tell you?"
Claire heaved a heavy-hearted sigh and looked down. "I'm not supposed to wander off." She mumbled. Her eyes shot up. "I know- I'm sorry, I couldn't help it, but-" her aunt cut her off by taking both hands in hers.
"Claire," Emily said gently, bending down. "It's fine. I know it's hard for you to not go anywhere without the Pack or myself, but it's for the best. You don't know who else could see or hear you. Most people aren't used to strange things happening, like people turning into wolves and kids making things float. This is serious."
"Because of the government and the Men in Black?" Claire asked, in a dead-pan voice. Emily suppressed a snort.
"Yes, because of people like them," she clarified.
"And because of the new president right? Because he likes white men best and white women next and nobody else." Claire asked.
Emily stared. "Where did you hear that?"
"I heard Quil's granddad talking about it with Quil and Billy," Her niece clarified. "They didn't seem too happy about him."
Emily sighed and suppressed a groan. "Claire, if there's one thing you need to know, stay away from politics and politicians. It's always messy and nothing ever gets solved the way they say it will."
"Duly noted," Claire gave her an impish grin. But then she grew serious. "What am I supposed to do when no one's here, though?"
Emily's heart squeezed at that. "Claire, I know. But we have to be careful. Until we find out how you can do all this and how you can control it, then you have to stay hidden."
They'd made all sorts of excuses from other relatives having joint custody and other things. It made it easier to believe since Claire's father was unknown. Emmy had gone off and become pregnant with her then-boyfriend, whom she didn't even introduce to the rest of her family, first with Jacqueline, then Claire. It had been the aftermath of a terrible argument which caused Emmy to storm out of the house. They hadn't seen her in years until she came back to the Makah reservation with her young daughters.
It had been quite the shock, but Emmy admitted that their father was no longer in their lives. Jackie and Claire had taken their mother's surname. And Emmy bravely raised them alone with the family's help, until she and the girls had gone on a little trip and their car had gone off a cliff. Claire had been the only survivor.
By this time, Emmy and Emily's parents had died so it was only Emily who had been left to raise Claire, along with Quil, Sam, the Packs and the elders.
"I can control it better," Claire said suddenly. She held out her palm. In the middle was a daisy. The petals suddenly began furling and unfurling, before closing tight, and repeating the process all over again.
Emily smiled. "That really is amazing, darling."
Claire beamed, seemingly cheered by the praise. But Emily knew this wasn't going to last. At that moment, Sam chose to walk by.
"Hey," he gave her a loving smile. "And hey to you, Claire-bear," he ruffled her hair. "What've you got there?"
Claire held out her flower. Sam watched her repeat the process before giving Claire a brilliant smile.
"That's amazing Claire," he said gently. "Why don't you show Quil? He's dying to see you."
Claire nodded eagerly and dashed off. Emily watched her anxiously.
"Her powers are getting stronger," she said.
Sam looked grim now. "Yes," he admitted. "Have you found anything yet?"
They, the pack and the elders were searching their legends- and the Makah ones- trying desperately to find any explanation whatsoever for Claire's abilities. But unlike the legends- actual histories- which explained the Quileute packs' ability to transform into wolves, there had been no explanation for Claire.
"I'm thinking we should look into the legends of other tribes," Emily suggested. "Other nations, even. I know it's not likely there'll be any explanations for her abilities that come from, say, the Pacific Islands, but South America may be our best bet."
Sam shrugged. "We can try," he agreed.
"But I don't want her to live like this," Emily shook her head, saddened. "I don't want her to be secluded, and-and isolated, cut off from the outside world, unable to go anywhere. It isn't right."
Sam agreed. He held her close. "No," he said sadly. "It's not."
I think this may blow up in my face, Adsila thought, frowning. She walked through the woods.
Sighing she rubbed her hand across her forehead. Glancing at her grandparents' house, she shook her head.
They certainly took it well, she thought. Normally she would relax and unwind when she came home to North Carolina, but this time, there was no time.
She frowned as she looked back up at the house on the hill. It was a beautiful house, and she and Ayita and Keme had lived there until their parents moved farther north. All over were the hills, the woods, the nearby lake. They swum in the lake and the sea, fished with sharpened spears and magic traps, hunted what they needed in the meadow, played tag and hide-and-seek, rolled around, chased wild pigs, gathered berries and helped with the farming. They also listened to ancient legends and stories, passed down throughout the generations around a campfire. Simple, happy days, full of innocence.
Things have changed, she thought, still staring at the house. It was two stories, had a shale roof, a wide, wraparound porch and a railed balcony. The transom windows and pillars were framed or twined with carvings of rattlesnakes, vines and stags. She remembered touching the carvings and beholding them with reverence, listening to her grandparents' stories.
Nation, tribe, clan and family- all of these were important- she had been raised to believe that. To serve them- and to live up to the burden of her family legacy- a legacy that threatened to crush every child born into their clan and family. A weight which, many times became almost unbearable to Adsila and now threatened not only to crush, but to bury her cousin beneath the rubble.
Doubts plaguing her mind, she turned around and decided to take a walk.
After which, she sat at a nearby clearing, watching a group of children play.
They were sitting around a bonfire which rose three feet into the air. An alarming sight for it to be near children, sure, but they were supervised and wards were put up, protective spells to ensure their safety. The fire was grew and faded into ever-changing colors. The smoke and flames took different shapes, forms and colors like wild animals and creatures, human warriors and mystics from the distant past as the adult wizard conjured those images and sounds to inspire awe, entertain, amuse and interest the children.
The legends and stories of their past. Adsila sighed. She remembered those days well.
Eventually the wizard in charge- the 'Medicine Man' as non-Natives called them- Onacona, started to teach them how to do it too. They enjoyed playing it. Adsila heard a series of strange sounds, pops, sizzles and amusing cracks. The children were giggling around the fire.
Onacona smiled indulgently as they played. The kids laughed hysterically with amusement and fun, and Adsila could not contain her smile. They were so innocent.
She remembered playing the game as a child. Listening to all the old, ancient, mystical stories, watching with incredible rapture and attention as the wizard animated them, caused sounds like thunder and lightning to appear, for the purpose of entertaining and educating youngsters the legends and lessons from long ago. She had been taught to do the same, like Keme and Ayita. She remembered those days.
So carefree...
Adsila watched them play, realizing just how long ago it was. Before climbing career ladders became a high priority. Before the astounding, crushing pressure of the family legacy; tribal honor; national pride and security; shining for the purpose of all those who knew her; being awarded. Missions, secrets, assignments, dangers, threats, enemies. And losses.
There had been great chiefs, warriors, healers and so forth in her family and clan before the Europeans even came, No-Majes and mages alike. She counted among her ancestors, the Founders of Magical America. Adsila Sizemore the First was president of MACUSA. The second Adsila was a famous billionairess and a society beauty. The third, her grandaunt Adsila, was America's best wandmaker, and had been married to another famous one in the twentieth century. There were many others, just as great, with different names.
She had been affected. She and her older brother Keme. and Ayita, young as she was. After all, her parents had named her Adsila. The burden of their family legacy and the expectations piled upon them, not merely by tribe, elders, clan and extended family, but the entire nation. America was holding its breath waiting to see how the next generation of the Sizemore dynasty will turn up and what they would bring to America.
She felt the eyes on her in Ilvermorny. Felt them watch her as she passed. The teachers did everything they could to make life normal for them in school. But she couldn't tune out the blinks, double-takes and stares when they heard the name Sizemore. And Adsila.
Sighing, Adsila shook her head. They needed to leave.
It was bad enough, she thought, that the Salem Purists were on the rise. Previously the majority of No-Majes in the modern age could be counted upon as believing magic as nothing more than senseless superstition, hokum and such. But now, they were beginning to be more aware.
And it could lead to the breach in the International Statute of Secrecy. And the Salem Witch Trials all over again.
Adsila scowled as she contemplated that.
The famous Harry Potter was coming to America. And already he was tap-dancing on her last good nerve.
Not that she didn't respect the guy. She had the most tremendous respect and gratitude towards him for getting rid of Voldemort.
But he and his allies as well as his opponents, had created a great deal of mess that she had to clean up and they didn't even know.
But she wondered just how much time they had.
Finally the children were ushered back home into their houses. Onacona smiled benevolently as their moms and dads, baby-sitters and house-elves ushered them away. He glanced up at Adsila.
She stood from her chair as he approached.
Onacona was a slender man, in pale, cream-coloured robes, astonishingly simple for one of his status, but he was never one to brag or show off. His long grey hair hung loose down his back.
Adsila smiled. "Osiyo," she greeted, bowing her head. He was held in very high esteem.
"Tsilugi, Adsila," Onacona's smile widened as he welcomed her. "Otahitsu?" How are you?
"Hawa," she said nonchalantly. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm under a lot of strain," she confessed.
"Ah. Seen your grandparents?" He inquired. "I have," she replied. "And Ayita?"
Adsila opened her mouth, frowning. She decided not to say anything, but looked at him suspiciously, eyes narrowed.
Onacona laughed softly. "She's been waiting for months, years, I'd say."
Adsila sighed. "Onacona, you know it's a miracle that she's in a stable position right now?"
His eyebrow only rose higher.
"As stable as it could be," Adsila amended. "I'm just grateful she wasn't demoted, decommissioned, prosecuted, charged, jailed or worse." She shuddered inwardly to think about it. "I can't defend her, Onacona. Not officially. Not in my position." She winced. "My hands are tied."
Onacona looked at her sympathetically. "It's not easy being a sister and a person of immense importance at the same time," he empathized.
Although she and Ayita were not biological sisters, they might as well be. Before Adsila became increasingly occupied, the trials of Ayita's position and the fact that Adsila's hands were tied.
Ayita wasn't the most prominent member of the Sizemore family, but there was a time when she had been a rising star and it looked as if she would soar to shine even brighter.
Unfortunately, now no one knew where she stood. She had halted in her ascent. Now everyone wasn't sure whether Ayita would rise again to shine, sink into obscurity within the horizon or fade wherever she stood.
Adsila frowned. Ayita had been an auror. She had been quite good, though combat wasn't her specialty. But she had more than enough skill to be promoted into the newly-found DOMASIA which had been set up as a means of defending America covertly from the forces and schemes of Voldemort, his followers and their allies.
And then it had all gone to pot from there, as the No-Majes would say.
Ayita couldn't afford another disaster. Otherwise, that was it.
And as head of DOMASIA and its founder, Adsila's hands were tied and she was compelled to obey the law. And the trouble and scrutiny could also spread to her as well, as Ayita's superior and her cousin.
Onacona noticed her worry. "Enough frowns," he advised. "Tell me, have you spent time with your cousin ever since you got back?"
Adsila bit her lip and looked at the moss on the ground. He gave her a knowing look.
"To make things all about work does not bode well for any friendship, much less kinship," he warned her. "I remember when you were children. You used to play together by the beach, listen to stories, watch the dancing wide-eyed, and I would tell and show our legends and stories the way I showed these children and teach you to do the same."
Adsila shifted uncomfortably. She was always so good at keeping her poise, yet Onacona, of all people, made her lose her focus and forget her training.
"I know," she said quietly. "And... I do love her, Onacona, that hasn't changed, but..."
"But?" He prodded gently. "I'm not just busy," she looked at him. "I'm also worried."
"Ah. But surely you have faith in your cousin?" Adsila's head shot up towards him.
"Of course I do! It's just..." She swallowed. "I'm wondering if I had too much faith in the beginning," she said shame-faced. "That I allowed her into the agency because I believed in her... And I believed in her because she was my cousin. My spirit-sister. If that was the case, I should not have done that. I was trusted, by everyone, not to be biased. And although Ayita certainly fit into the criteria..." She swallowed again. A flush of shame had entered her face.
"I am caught. I want to be a good sister and cousin, a good daughter and granddaughter. A good friend. But I also need to be a good boss, a good comrade. Someone reliable, because a lot of people rely on me. I can't afford any mistakes or it could cost people their lives. How am I supposed to be both?" She bit out.
Onacona sighed. "As I said, it's not easy." He agreed. "But no matter what happens, my advice is: don't let Ayita forget that you love and care for her. And don't stop believing in her, no matter what. Don't be blind in your beliefs of anyone, keep your eyes open, but you must trust her in order to believe in her. And you must believe in her in order for her to make you proud." He looked Adsila in the eye as he said that. "So don't let her forget."
Adsila nodded. "And believe in yourself." He moved closer and touched her shoulders, looking her in the eye. "Trust yourself. The spirits and courage of your ancestors have stretched all the way back long before MACUSA. They are still with you and will always be with you. But you need to believe and trust in yourself. That is the most important thing. Stop questioning everything you do. That will only sow doubt, discord and worse. It will lead to failure and tragedy, you of all people know that." Adsila sighed.
She looked at him. "I'll do my best." "That's all I'm asking," Onacona said sagely. "I should probably head back," she admitted. "Give your brother and your parents my best," he requested. She nodded. "Heyatahesdi." He said. Be careful.
"Wado udohiyu ustati," she responded. Thank you very much.
Feeling better, Adsila left. But she still could not get rid of the feeling that- for better or worse- they were in for something big.
Ayita found Adsila waiting for her in the gardens.
She opened her mouth, but her cousin held out her hand.
"We have a situation, and it has the potential to become severe," she stated. Ayita blinked, realising that Adsila had just spoken in Narragansett, not Cherokee, her mother's native language in order to keep this a secret from straying ears.
Ayita had been raised partially by her uncle and aunt since her parents died and thus had become fluent.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
Adsila fixed her with her honey-amber gaze. They always seemed to change from pure, molten gold; rich, freshly-harvested or smoked honey; polished globes of glowing amber; burnished bronze, copper… Every part of Adsila seemed to be made of amber. She was, without fail, the most beautiful, loveliest woman Ayita had ever seen, and this wasn't spoken with the bias of a cousin who hung on every footstep as a girl.
She was the most successful member of her generation alongside her brother. Ayita felt herself squirm on the inside. Her grandparents loved her and were always proud of her, but she knew she let them down…
She let the family, the clan and the tribe down.
But before she could continue that painfully familiar line of thought, Adsila spoke: "You are aware of the situation at hand?"
"If you're talking about the No-Maj president, and the Salem Purists, yes, I am aware of that," she said calmly.
"Well, do you know anything else?"
"Such as?" Ayita asked. Adsila nodded. "For now." Her gaze looked deadly grim.
The real truth may be that we are in more danger than that." She stated calmly.
Ayita stood very still. "Why?"
"Because there have been reports of several witches and wizards who have gone up north to Washington and mysteriously disappeared." Adsila said calmly.
Ayita froze. "Why was no one else told of this?" She might have been lying low, and currently in disgrace, desperate to prove herself- and on standby- but she should have known along with the others! And why didn't anyone else know?
"We've heard reports- alarming reports," Adsila continued. This sharpened Ayita's suspicion and interest. "Sasquatches?" She asked warily.
"No, not the sasquatch population," her cousin quickly refuted. "Reports of wolves- giant wolves unlike anything anyone has seen before. The No-Majes call them 'cryptids'. It's the term they use for-"
"Jackalopes, the White River Monster, Himalayan yeti and sasquatches themselves," Ayita murmured. "Sorry, please go on."
"Yes," Ayita didn't know if her cousin was amused, offended or had brushed this aside. "In other words, some No-Majes fervently believe in its existence, just as there are some No-Majes who believe we do exist. But in the cases of yeti, sasquatches, jackalopes and the Loch Ness monster, they actually do exist- we know this for a fact because we have magic." Adsila paused. "But although there are some species of giant wolves, none have ever been known to us to have ever been discovered in the state of Washington. Or vampire-like creatures that don't burn in sunlight." Ayita looked up, shocked.
"What?" She demanded.
"As of this moment, they are undiscovered by the No-Majes- and us." Adsila continued. "But word is quickly spreading- amongst the No-Majes- and amidst the population of a small town named Forks, and somewhat beyond including in Seattle, word has spread, about the "Olympic Wolves' as they are known, due to the fact that they were mostly found on the Olympic Peninsula. And worse: around 2005-2006, No-Majes started disappearing in and around Forks, and Washington in general. And then there are the rumours that there are other creatures- beautiful, pale beings with superhuman strength and speed, preying on humans and animals alike- like vampires- only they were seen during the day."
Ayita inhaled sharply. "Add that to the tensions rising within the No-Maj community, due to their president and his controversial attitudes with his own kind, the rising popularity of the Salem Purists, add that to the mix and we could be completely exposed- and worse. If there's one country in the world who's most at risk of suffering exposure and breaking the International Statute of Secrecy, it's us." Adsila paused.
"So you know what's at stake," she continued. "Should you not accept, know that I completely understand and will support you in this-" and guiltily, Adsila admitted to herself she would be a bit more than relieved- for Ayita's sake and everyone else's. "Should you accept, know that the risk of failure or even the slightest mistake could cost not only America, but the entire magical world, dearly. We may experience something akin to the Salem Witch Trials and the Great European Witch Hunt, except on a worldwide scale and who knows? With the new technology these No-Majes are proving capable of… We may never know what will happen to us."
"Experimental lab rats and dissected frogs; nuclear warhead victims and survivors; refugees and fugitives hiding from No-Maj law… Before war breaks out." Ayita hesitated. "So that's what's at risk?"
"In terms of failure or even the slightest mistake made by impulse," Adsila warned.
Ayita bristled. Since when was she ever rash? But admittedly, she did overlook some things and make mistakes.
And that was the reason for her current predicament. This work was her life. She needed it. But if she had been more thorough, more careful…
She couldn't afford to make a third mistake. Especially now.
Adsila stepped closer to her. "You said you wanted to prove yourself- one chance. That was all you needed."
"I didn't expect it to have such spectacularly high risks should I fail!" Ayita shot back. "It's not just my career, Adsila, or the family, clan and tribe's reputation, it's… The whole world!" She stared at her cousin incredulously.
Adsila looked grave. "I know. But these are my orders." She sighed. "I tried to suggest something else- something which carries less risk should you fail, but…" She winced. "They were determined."
"They're trying to get rid of me, aren't they?" Ayita asked, numbly. "There's no other reason for them to give me such a high-risk assignment."
"You underestimate yourself," Adsila said sternly. "And nothing is going to damage the tribe's reputation."
"Just the clan and the family's," Ayita fired. "And mine! My career as well as my reputation, my future career. If I mess up-"
"Then make sure you don't." Adsila hissed, stepping closer to her. She grabbed her cousin by both slender shoulders. "Go through every step, meticulously. Do not leave a single stone unturned. Be sharp-eyed as a thunderbird, and as every bit a hunter as a wampus. Don't miss out a single clue, and don't allow yourself to be tricked into a corner."
Ayita struggled not to wince at the reminder. "Literally or figuratively." Adsila warned. "Don't miss anything. Don't get fooled by false hopes, leads and assurances. Everyone is a suspect, and they are ALL trying to trick you." She frowned at how that sounded. Hopefully she wouldn't get to paranoid.
"I am trusting and counting on you with this, Ayita," she warned. "No more mistakes."
"Claire!"
Claire Young looked up. Right now she wanted to be alone, but she couldn't deny her friend company. Quil had gone off to do 'wolf-business' or 'Pack-stuff' and she was now alone and hopelessly bored.
To most, this would sound disturbing. Gross in fact. But Claire trusted Quil, and he never bored her. As well as being fun, he was incredibly kind, gentle and patient. So there really was no danger of her falling in love with somebody else, anymore than there was with Quil- right?
Especially not now. Renesmee- or Nessie as she was known- sat down next to Claire.
"Hi," she greeted. "Where's Jacob?"
Nessie shrugged. "No idea. I don't know where they've gone." With Quil, no doubt.
Renesmee breathed out. "Okay." She looked at the space next to Claire. "Mind if I-"
"Sure," Claire said, budging over.
This wasn't the only company she received that wasn't a member of the Pack, Aunt Emily, Sue, Billy Black or Quil's granddad.
Renesmee Carlie Cullen was, like her, an honorary member of the Quileute tribe, being imprinted upon by Jacob Black. Claire had been imprinted on by Quil Ateara, Jake's friend. Once they had grown up, developed a friendship and fallen in love with them, they would be married.
Claire didn't dare admit it, but she really didn't mind. She really, really loved them, all of them, especially Quil and Uncle Sam who was now, like her dad. But she was growing restless, tired, frustrated and bored, feeling like she was being cooped up there in La Push, which was exactly what she was. She was hardly left alone for a single moment, and it was driving her crazy.
"So…" Nessie began. "What're you up to?"
In answer, Claire held out a daisy. The petals began to close, then suddenly, stopped and unfurled, opening again to the sun.
"That's amazing," Nessie breathed.
Claire sighed. "Yeah. Just don't know why I'm the only one who can do it. Plus, I'm bored. No one's letting me out," she complained.
Nessie grimaced. She knew exactly what that was like. She had her parents and Jacob monitoring her twenty-four-seven. Someone was always with her, if not her parents or Jake, then her grandparents, her aunts and/or uncles.
And because of her unearthly good looks and abnormally, unexplainably fast growth, Nessie had never gone to school in the first place. She was three years younger than Claire, turning eight this year, but she looked seventeen. It disturbed Claire, and she knew that if she was forced to physically grow up in such a short amount of time, she would be more than unsettled. Nessie looked like a teenager, she was remarkably intelligent and alert. But emotionally, she too felt isolated, alone and insecure. At times she truly seemed younger than Claire.
We're two of a kind, Claire thought sullenly.
Nessie was aware of her thoughts. They were both kept isolated and secluded because of their abilities, completely sheltered and guarded by their families, and struggled to fit in and not cause any more problems than they already have.
"You know," she decided to distract Claire. "If there's nothing that's been found on the Makah Reserve and here… My dad has a theory- I swear he didn't tell anyone about you! He just read it off our minds."
Claire perked. She had never actually met Nessie's father, but she knew he was a vampire who read people's minds.
"Well, when my dad first met my mom, she was the only person whose mind he couldn't read," Nessie explained. "When she became a vampire, Eleazar- a friend of ours- found out that her power was blocking telepathic powers like my dad's."
If that's the case, Claire didn't know how in the world the two of them got together. Maybe it was a case of 'opposites attract.'
"So based on this, my mom had those powers as a human, she just didn't know how to use them," Nessie continued. "Not as a human."
Claire perked up. "So does this mean…"
"He said it's not unusual for humans to have powers before they're turned into vampires," her friend continued. "Benjamin- he's another vampire and a great guy- could manipulate earth, water, air and fire- even as a boy, he said. Before he was even turned. So you see, Claire, you're not the only one." Then she frowned. "But you powers… Well, they're a wide range. You see, Mom could block any mental powers. That's it. And the difference between Dad's powers and Aro's- that's another vampire- is that Dad could hear many people's thoughts at the exact same time- but he can only hear and see the thoughts they're having now. Aro on the other hand, can hear and see every thought you've ever had; every memory- but only if he touches you, and he can only do it with one person."
Claire stopped dead. All hopes she had came crashing down.
Nessie shifted uneasily. "It's just that most powers are placed in a certain field. Like Dad's telepathy, Demetri- Aro's guard- he's a tracker, and another guy named Alistair. That's because they can find anything or anyone they want, although they come in different ways. Granddad says that no two powers are the same, but they can be the same type."
And Claire could boil water; open, close and wilt flowers; turn people's hair blue; fly and make people fly…
"Right." Claire's shoulders slumped. "But it's a start," Nessie hastily said.
A start which led to a dead end. Claire's spirits vanished.
Harry woke up bright and early in the morning. After washing up and dressing, he'd gone downstairs to see Marion levitating the huge tureen full of oatmeal and a rasher of bacon towards the table. Not to mention plates of toast and eggs. He sat down to breakfast.
"Hey!" Tony walked in, grinning.
He held a newspaper in his hand the title read The New York Ghost. "You guys wanna to check out the Big Apple? We could take you guys around the city."
"That sounds lovely, thank you," Hermione said while Ron and the kids asked, "What's the Big Apple?"
"It's what the No-Majes call New York," Tony said with a smirk.
"Breakfast first," Marion admonished, teasingly. "Before you guys start planning on how to start your day. So, Harry, honey, how do you guys want your eggs?"
Hermione sighed and put down her coffee cup. "You know we could help-"
"Oh, no, no, no," Marion hastily said. "It's no problem at all."
"Marion was a chef once," Tony explained as he sat down. "Sunny-side up please, honey."
A jug of milk floated towards them, refilling the children's glasses. "I worked down in North Carolina for some time," she confessed. "Could've been better, I suppose, but I got transferred to New York by my boss."
"Where did you work?" Harry asked. He took a bite of scrambled eggs on toast.
"The Nunnehi Princess," Marion explained. "Restaurants and hotels, all over the US. "Owned by the Sizemore family."
"Wait- like Keme and Adsila?" It was Matt that spoke. He looked up from his breakfast plate.
"I thought you took History of Magic in school," Marion shook her head admonishingly. "You would have known the Sizemore family names usually tend to come up often. Presidents, society stars, billionaires, wandmakers, adventurers, herbologists, aurors, potioneers and more all come from the same family. Your father's boss, Keme Sizemore, the Director of Magical Security and the president's right-hand man, and his younger sister Adsila are only two. Actually, they're the offspring of two of the most powerful, influential and wealthiest families in North America. Their mother- who comes from the Narragansett tribe- is the daughter of the current Sachem."
"Sachem?" Harry and Ron asked, Ron looking from his huge plateful of food, food still in his mouth, causing Hermione to glare at him for talking whilst eating.
"Sachem or Sachim, is the Narragansett word for high chief," Marion placed eggs on Hazel's plate. "Also used by non Native Americans to describe any chief in particular, not just the Narragansett ones. Keme and Adsila are from Cherokee tribe on their father's side and Narragansett from their mother. Coming from two extremely powerful, wealthy and influential clans and some of the oldest and most renowned families, those two sure do have quite the burden of legacy and expectations."
Harry winced. "I know how that feels like."
Hermione looked at them with interest. "So they're Native American?"
The American Potters stared at her like she'd grown a dragon's head and a bear's one made of tin.
"Um… Yeah," Luke stared at her. "Didn't you know?"
Hermione blinked; seemingly realising she had made herself sound embarrassingly ignorant. But was it her fault? It's not like she knew anything about the Wizarding World in America!
"Well," she fumbled. "It's just that in the muggle- non-magical world- Native Americans aren't this influential or-"
But she realised again that she had made a mistake. Luke stared at her. "What's that supposed to mean?" He demanded.
"Luke," his mother reprimanded as Hermione opened her mouth and closed it.
"Hey, come on now," Ron tried to cut in.
Luke was having none of it. "Two of my friends are Native American- Choctaw and Chickasaw and Sioux." He said heatedly. "And they're not bums! Their families are extremely incredibly respectable and well-off. What does it matter if they're Native American, African, Asian or Caucasian? And even if it does, why would you even expect-"
"Luke," his mother said sternly, as Hermione flushed deeper than ever and stammered. "They're new to America. They don't know."
"Maybe," her son shot back. "But I thought only No-Majes discriminate against skin color - and that they were against all kinds of discrimination."
"What?" Matt choked on a piece of toast. "Why would No-Majes even-"
"Lucas," his mother's voice grew firmer. "I understand how you feel, but she didn't mean to make it sound like that. She doesn't know." She turned to Hermione. "You were No-Maj- muggle-born and raised, weren't you?" She asked gently.
Hermione- if possible- flushed deeper. "I'm sorry," she blurted. All her life in the magical world, and she'd spent hours reading, trying to assimilate into wizarding culture, and truly see herself as one of them, but now based on her muggle upbringing and memories of the muggle world, she had- unintentionally- made a terrible blunder. An inexcusable one, by anyone's standards, but an honest mistake. "I didn't mean to make it sound like that," she protested. "I didn't know. It's just that in the muggle- No-Maj world-"
Marion nodded sagely. "I know what the No-Maj world is like," she said gravely. The air turned grim. "Wizards and witches- if they discriminate- are prejudiced against anything non-magical. But No-Majes look at women; people of different ethnicities and cultural groups; gender orientation and much more. The history of this country- riddled with the atrocities and violence of the No-Majes- against magical beings and even each other- are a testimony to that. Look at the Salem Witch Trials and the Great European Witch Hunt. Look at the American Civil War, the African Slave Trade, and the Trail of Tears."
"The what?" Everyone simultaneously said. "The African Slave Trade," Marion patiently explained. "Europeans and Caucasian Americans hated Africans and people who had dark skin colors. They used to send ships and crews to Africa, capture tribesmen, women and children with nets and traps- like wild animals- and they did treat them like animals- they took them on cargo ships and sold them as slaves to property owners- as slaves; to be whipped, starved and killed in whatever way they could. Even children. They had no rights- they were property, no better than beasts of burden." She looked pained. "They were ripped apart from their families and homes, sold to cruel masters- or kind ones, it depended on luck- to be their property."
She paused. "The Trail of Tears," she continued. "It started in 1803 but it didn't end there. Caucasian Americans and their European ancestors despised Native Americans almost as much as Africans. The Trail of Tears saw Native American tribes forcibly removed from their ancestral lands and moved elsewhere. The No-Maj Supreme Court ruled in favor of the Native Americans, but their president Andrew Jackson sent their armies to force them from their homes and go west, sometimes at the threat of death. Sometimes, it was because there was good farmland that could be given to Caucasian farmers. Other times, it was because the discovery of gold, like in Dahlonega, Georgia, which forced the Cherokee there to move so the miners could come in. A few No-Maj Native Americans managed to evade them, but at terrible cost. For many of the removed, they were ill-prepared for travelling in winter. Countless men, women and children starved through lack of food or died because of the freezing temperatures. The death toll was outstanding."
A horrific silence had slammed into the room. Ashen-faced, Rose turned towards her mother, "Is it true?" Her eyes were wide. She looked, more than horrified, but aghast, like she was about to be sick.
Harry put down his fork and knife, staring but not seeing at anything. Suddenly, he didn't feel so good.
The other kids didn't look any better. Many of them looked like they were about to be sick, Lily and Hazel were in tears, and Hermione's own children looked beyond appalled.
Marion sighed. "Yes," Hermione whispered. "It's true." She wouldn't meet Rose's eyes.
If possible, Rose looked even more ashen. Her usually fine complexion had dark circles under her eyes.
"Why would they do that, Mummy?" Hugo whispered, his face grey, also with dark circles under his eyes. "Why would granddad and Nana's people-"
Harry winced. "I'm certain your grandparents had nothing to do with that," Marion hastily said. "But it… happens. Besides, the Trail of Tears was over two centuries ago, and the African Slave Trade."
But Luke was shaking his head. "Why didn't Miko and Issi tell me any of this?" he looked as ill as the others.
"Because only the No-Maj Native Americans went through the Trail of Tears," his mother explained. "Magical Native Americans and No-Majes were initially part of the same tribe. But the No-Majes had the same attitude towards magic-users as their Caucasian counterparts. MACUSA and magical United States was formed roughly a century before No-Maj America. Initially, some of the No-Maj Native Americans lauded the ones who used magic to heal and protect the tribes. Others believed them possessed or evil. But the mood turned more towards the latter when the Europeans came. More and more No-Maj Native Americans were either adopting their beliefs willingly or forcibly. The situation grew unbearable for everyone involved, regardless of origin. Eventually, when MACUSA was founded- by wizards and witches of all cultures and ethnic groups in the US- the wizards and witches in the tribes made the decision- hard as it was- to break completely with their No-Maj brethren, thus causing a division.
"They never suffered the Trail of Tears or all the horrible experiences that plagued the No-Maj counterparts- or the divisions, or anything else. If anything, they thrived."
"The Sizemores are a testament to that," Tony muttered. Everyone nearly jumped when they heard the sound of his voice having forgetting he was there. He was drinking coffee and reading The New York Ghost. "Look, all that happened centuries ago. So it doesn't matter if there are a few nutcases still hanging around- most No-Majes don't believe magic exists. And most No-Majes are way over the ultra-stupid, idiotic viewpoints of their ancestors." He snorted before he took a gulp. "Anyway, if it wasn't safe, Rappaport's Law wouldn't have been revoked back in the 1960s, now, would it?"
"Rappaport's Law?" Ginny asked. Now everyone did jump. She had been in the kitchen all this time.
Tony grimaced. "In 1790 President Emily Rappaport pushed forth a law. There was this young witch- nah, she didn't deserve to be called a witch. She was as stupid as a mule masquerading as a hodag in school. Her father was the smart one though- Aristotle Twelvetrees, the Keeper of Treasure and Dragots in MACUSA- but his daughter Dorcus, was the dim one." Some of the kids snorted at the name. "She liked parties and doing her hair, and her makeup. 'Till one day she went to a party, met this handsome No-Maj and performed 'tricks' with her wand."
"Oh no." Hermione blanched.
"Uh-huh. Turns out Bartholomew Barebone, was descended from scourers."
"Scourers- like the ones you talked about yesterday?" Albus asked.
"Yup. He believed magic exists, and witches and wizards are evil. She told him all 'bout Ilvermorny and MACUSA because she fell head-over-heels for him." Tony shook his head. "He stole her wand, showed it to some No-Majes- even gave it a good wave though it took him a few feet into the air- and told everyone where they could find all the locations of these 'occult parties'. He got some armed men, waited outside MACUSA and shot some people coming out." Hermione and Rose gave gasps. "Turns out, they were only No-Majes, so Bartholomew got arrested for his crime. Dorcus was arrested too, but the damage was done. The International Statute of Secrecy was broken."
Everybody winced violently. The International Statute of Secrecy was one of the most unbreakable of laws worldwide. "They obliviated just about everybody they could find, but Barebone had printed so many pamphlets, he had gone to the newspapers, there was no way anyone could be sure they had gotten everyone who saw or read anything." Another wince. "Dorcus got imprisoned. Some called for her to have a life sentence. Others wanted her executed."
"Executed?" Hermione squeaked. Tony shook his head. "Dorcus got let out after a year. She never married, and stayed at home with a parrot and a mirror as her only friends. Nobody wanted anything to do with her. And ever since then until the 1960s, everyone was forced to live separate from the No-Majes. You weren't allowed to work with, live with or even talk to them, apart from an excuse me if you stepped on their foot or needed them to move outta your way. Kids had to leave their wands at school, not just stop practicing magic at home. You weren't allowed to marry No-Majes either."
"What?!" Many of the British visitors gasped. "It was too risky," Tony admitted. "You didn't know who you could trust. Not everyone could be let in on the secret. Worse, No-Maj-born kids had to be taken from homes, placed into foster homes and their memories and their families' were wiped."
Hermione's face was positively stark-white. No doubt remembering her own experience when she had needed to modify her parents' memories in order to compel them to move to Australia, and forget they ever had had a daughter. "It was a terrible time," Tony confessed. "Full of terrible people."
"I really shouldn't have told you about all that." Marion cringed. "I'm sorry, I truly am. And during breakfast. But just so you know, one, that America is quite different from Britain." "Yeah, you're telling us," Ron muttered. Hermione and Ginny shot him glares. "Two, that it was a terrible time in history and it's long-gone by now. No-Majes have evolved and so have we. Things are never going back to the way they were before."
"But you said that there are still mu- No-Majes that believe magic exists and wizards are evil," Albus pointed out.
"Very few," Marion said firmly but gently. "Most No-Majes don't have good eyes. They can't see or even go near any of our cities, towns and villages. Or tribal lands and private property. They don't see or hear anything. And if they see something unusual, they'll always try to make sense of it. They've got scholars, scientists and all those people coming in to reassure the bewildered crowds. There's always an explanation for No-Majes."
She sighed. "And I've made you sad. So I think I'm going to bake you a treat."
A chorus of 'Oh no!' and 'It's okay,' sounded through the air, but Marion had already gotten out her wand. She waved it through the air, and a bowlful of plums floated gracefully into the air along with a knife. She waved it again, and conjured a baking tray. The knife sliced the plums in half and the pits vanished, before a bottle of coconut oil and a brush floated up to meet them, oil pouring onto the brush and coating the halved fruit lightly in midair, before the tray went up to meet them and they landed just after glittering sugar appeared and sprinkled itself onto the plums.
"Relax," Marion smiled and Tony winked. "These will brighten anyone's day."
She had waved her wand again and a pot had appeared on the suddenly-lit stove. Bottles of balsamic vinegar, honey, sugar and vanilla extract; and sprigs of rosemary poured themselves in, mixing and heating in an impossibly fast manner due to magic. Meanwhile, the plums had baked magically just as fast and were now popping themselves into individual porcelain mugs before being drizzled with the syrup and topped with fresh cream.
"Tuck in," Marion invited as the mugs floated onto the table.
"Oh wow, guys, she's famous for these," Matt said eagerly. He grabbed a spoon and began tucking in.
Harry tasted the baked plums cautiously. They tasted great. Surprisingly Harry felt himself relaxing and nearly forgot everything they had discussed, as they happily tucked into the treats.
Later, Tony pulled Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione aside. "Listen, Luke didn't mean to upset anyone. You see, years back he had this friend… I can't say what happened to him, because it's not my right. But Luke's friend met a tragic end. He's still not happy about that, and he hasn't recovered, not completely. But they are right about one thing: it's a different world than what you're used to. I'm an auror for the Department of Magical Security. My task is to protect wizards and witches in America, and all magical creatures, as well as conceal them. But there's nothing I can do for No-Maj attacks- MACUSA doesn't have jurisdiction for that. So please, enjoy yourselves here, but stay clear of No-Majes. I know they're not all evil, but it's best to be safe than sorry."
Cherokee words:
Osiyo (oh-See-yoh)= 'Greetings'- spoken to a tribal elder, teacher, clan matriarch or patriarch or anyone else of high esteem.
Tsilugi (chee-luh-gi)= 'Welcome' -as in '=Welcome back'.
Otahitsu? (oh-tah-hee-chew)= 'How are you?'
Hawa (hah-wah)= 'Alright' or 'Okay.'
Heyatahesdi (hay-yah-tah-hays-dee)= 'Be Careful'.
Wado Udohiyu Ustati (wah-doh ou-doh-hee-yu ou-chah-tee)= 'Thank you very much.'
Note: The Trail of Tears and the African Slave Trade were two of the most appalling crimes in human history. Native Americans endured a five-hundred-year genocide (no exaggeration) and status as second-class citizens at the very least. Even after the loss of their lands and forced migration- otherwise known as ethnic cleansing (which also refers to forced relocation of ethnic minorities), they had to endure what comes after: loss of culture and languages, racial stereotyping, et cetera. The Cherokee and Quileute languages are endangered, Makah and Narragansett are extinct in first-language terms. Parents were told to speak English to their kids, who were also taken to boarding schools (though some parents hid them). The Pocomtuc tribe no longer exists and almost virtually nothing is known about them.
So I hope no one minds if I've taken the liberty to ensuring that no Native American witch or wizard has ever suffered such injustices. As for Hermione saying those things above- like I said, she didn't mean them- she didn't mean them anymore than J.K Rowling meant to use racist words in her writing (I'm not a Hermione-basher either). But even though Hermione may be academically brilliant, it's hard to say what she's like in the outside world amidst society and not danger or books. She was raised by her parents in the muggle world, and to be frank, I don't think her parents know much about what ethnic minorities have suffered (Hermione is white in canon- the Cursed Child doesn't count), only a basic outline, such as poverty. It's like her saying the wrong thing without meaning, to the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest- big mistake, but an honest, harmless one.