The Meadowes'
There was something to be said about families like the Meadowes’s. A family of five intelligent, extraordinary people who loved each other like breathing. A family that never quite managed to know how to show it. For all their smarts and extensive vocabulary, none of them ever quite managed to find the words to speak to each other. The words ‘I love you’ had never been harder to utter. Any actions to prove it came across as clumsy, even awkward.
Dorcas was nicely smug in the middle of an awkward sandwich. Her overachiever parents who worked tirelessly to provide for them would nag her older brother into achieving even more than they had, and scold her younger sister for her carelessness. Somehow, in between all of that, Dorcas sometimes slipped through the cracks.
Mother had her own store to manage, selling various perfumes, books and all sorts on unimaginable things. Of course Father had his own too. A diner, known as the favourite spot of all the locals. In between all the time they had to spend at their stores, there wasn’t much time at home.
Dorcas’s elder brother, Isaiah would do what he could to take care of them when Mother and Father weren’t home. But he was much older than Dorcas and Nia, so the duty soon fell to the duo.
Loneliness was something one simply had to get used to. Where Isaiah thrived in public settings and Nia was effortlessly cool, Dorcas never found the same ease in socialisation. Every joke fell flat, sarcasm came off as rude. No matter how easy math or english was to follow, the one thing she couldn’t understand was people.
It was all she wanted to be able to do.
After each forgotten achievement, the need to impress her parents only flourished. As she began to crave the same approval her brother had once received, her love for learning started to decay. Much like the human body’s eventual decay, the curiosity in Dorcas began to wane, flickering away like the embers of a fire.
Though the curiosity and intrigue began to ebb away, the drive only doubled. Long gone was the true enthusiasm but simply the desire to be great. Quoting her literary heroes, Dorcas “wanted to be great or nothing”. What good was a jewel if not on display?
Her mother was a Citrine, bubbly to all her customers and her shop full of the success that paid their private school fees. Her father was a Peridot, his diner providing all the money they needed to pay off their house. Isaiah was an Onyx, braver than the lot of them and undeniably overprotective over his siblings. Nia was a Sunstone, vibrant and lively, filling the quiet of their house with her laughter.
Dorcas was simply a Sapphire; not rare like the rest of them. Undeniably intelligent and honest. So loyal it could kill her.
To stand out, be as rare as her siblings, she’d need to burn brighter than she could ever dare dream. It was not enough for her to be a mimicry of her literary heroes; not when her parents were heroes of their own right. Maybe she’d stand a chance if she managed to be some unique mix of the lot of them. Maybe then she’d be different.
Even if she wouldn’t be herself anymore.
Dorcas turned eleven earlier in the year. While most children were able to note accidental magic with startled excitement, Dorcas barely noticed it. Summoning a book to her hand while reading another and switching without even realising she’d summoned it across the room. Books turning to the one page she needed without any prompts. Lights spluttering to life as she walked into a room. Baby Dorcas’s magic rearranging her blankets while she’d been fast asleep.
She’d received her Hogwarts letter a good few months before school started. The world of magic sounded dreamy and wonderful. It sounded like the perfect place. She’d never be able to bring herself to tell her family the truth.
But her Hogwarts letter was a godsend. How her parents took notice!
“Our daughter! A witch! Who’d have thought?”
“Won’t she be marvellous?”
She’d be the very best. She’d prove her place or die trying. It’s what her parents would want, right? They’d rather her find a way to soar, even if it destroyed her. Right?
So she would. She’d be fuelled purely by nothing but her drive to be the best. But she’d encourage that curiousity back out of hiding. She’d continue to struggle with her friends, but manage to find her own kin regardless.
Her existence would be the very bane of near half of wizarding society. She’d soar — just like her parents supposedly wanted. But would she crash and burn along with the wings? Was she a bird, destined to soar above the clouds forevermore or was she nothing but another Icarus? Wings of wax, never destined to last, always meant to fall.
Dorcas Meadowes, the very girl who’d make others question their blind beliefs. The miracle of a witch, capable of spells near impossible for others. An unexpected stunner, incapable of normalcy.
A girl whose brilliance will be nothing but a red target. A woman wanted dead. Then again, which woman is wanted alive?
A war survivor. A war hero. A saviour.
The key. A key. A moving gear in the machine that struck the opposition dead. Nothing but a weapon? Is that all she is good for?
Overlooked, misunderstood. Do they ever try to understand? Who is she, other than an accessory for her friends? One can carry all the power they desire, but sometimes they never once get the credit they deserve.
Not this time.
Denied her place furiously for so long the thought of holding such a sacred title seemed impossible. Some friends discard their comrades in favour of their five seconds of fame. Most do. Not all of them.
When Dorcas Meadowes offers the final piece of the puzzle, she is offered her rightful credit. The forgotten loner persona is discarded as nothing but as a shell, her sarcasm shifted from a weapon to a measure of love. She learns what it is to thrive.
And such is the tale of Dorcas Meadowes.