The Fortescues
Golden Child
a child in a family who is regarded as exceptional, favoured and held in high esteem. They are expected to be extraordinary at everything and essentially be “perfect”. Unfortunately, the pressure to live up to high levvels of accomplishment and perfection can be challenging.
family dynamic where a parent has exceeding expectations of their children. Involes an overwhelming need to please parents and/or authority figures
There was a rusted sticker underneath the slide at the park outside her house. It had mostly faded by now, but still, flecks of gold shone under the sunlight. Since she’d first stumbled upon the hiding spot, Alice had decided gold was her favourite colour.
Now she’d let it be yellow, so she could refer to the colour as loosely as possible. But the soft spot for gold never faded.
She was pretty lucky in that aspect. Her hair had been a lovely gold blonde since her birth. Her childhood teddy had always been more of a gold than the dark brown most of her peers had. Even her magic, as it sparked and bubbled around her, had always been a lovely gold. She couldn’t see it all the time, it only sputtered to life occasionally, but the few times it did always left her breathless.
Oh, and of course, she was her parents’ golden child.
It didn’t start that way. Little Alice, lively and curious, was just so intrigued by the world around her. Little Alice’s blood thrummed with creativity and ingenuity where her other family members were simply average. She was powerful; she had to make something of herself.
Her mother was simply a behind-a-desk Ministry worker and her father was an Auror. Ever since she’d been little, Alice had claimed to want more. Had ideas of revolution, longed to study each charm or spell and nitpick them apart.
It’d started with her pre-Hogwarts boarding school. Filled with other purebloods, Alice was somewhat in her place. Even if children weren’t meant to interact and form friendships with those not in their current blood circles, lest their sorted house damage the relationship in the future.
She’d always been shy; it wasn’t too hard. She knuckled down and her first few exams were nothing but a breeze. It wasn’t hard to score higher than her peers. Not when she didn’t have the same distractions or cravings for freedom they did.
“That’s amazing darling! You’re so talented!”
Each word of praise had her only craving more. So Alice pushed herself. It’s not like the work was particularly hard; it came to her easily, the only effort she put in was forcing herself to ask questions.
She’d been a pretty timid kid, but in saught of her parent’s praise, the shyness was pushed aside. She’d learn to talk with her peers in favour of completing group work effectively. She’d have her hand up in class to ask questions whenever she began to feel any doubt. It wouldn’t do for her to fall behind. Not if it hindered the praise.
“A 96? No, I’m just wondering why you couldn’t get 100 this time?”
“You know, I heard Crouch’s son got a 98.”
She couldn’t know it was do or die for some of her peers. All she knew was she needed to win. Not that it was a competition but, it sort of was, wasn’t it?
A race to see who was the best.
Alice was golden; she needed to prove it. She couldn’t settle for silver, or god forbid she win bronze. She wouldn’t settle for second, not when she was a shoe-in for first.
One might say she was quite ambitious, even if she wasn’t cunning enough to fool those around. She’d never been close enough with anyone to discover where her loyalties lay. And she wouldn’t claim herself as imaginative and innovative enough to be a creative.
But she was brave. Steadfast in her beliefs, unafraid to chase what she wanted and stronger than she dared to dream. Alice Fortescue was a mouse of a girl, with golden hair that shone in the sunlight and a tiny frame she hadn’t yet grown into. But her lungs were expansive, filling quickly with enough air to project her voice across the playground. Her fists were clenched faster than an insult could escape the lips of another. And her wit slipped past her tongue too quickly for her to clamp her mouth shut and prevent its escape.
They say people change as they age. Alice would say she didn’t.
Gold would forever remain dear to her heart. She’d raise her voice to the perfect startling volume. And her wit would never fade.
But the shouts could mellow into a soft, rich tone that could do soothe even the most fussy of babies. The wit would startle a laugh out of even the most stoick individuals, and verbally destroy even the most cocksure.
Alice Fortescue would claim she never changed, but she’d learn to look beyond the comparisons. She’d forever be golden, but learn that being silver and bronze isn’t quite the nightmare she considered it to be. Besides, isn’t bronze quite similar to gold anyway?
She’d learn to trust and communicate with her peers, not just for study but for joy. She’d always crave her parents praise — some things never change, after all — but they’d learn to express their pride just a tad more. She’d discover a group of people, undoubtedly proud of her no matter her decisions. People more loyal and steadfast in that loyalty than she had thought possible.
Alice would learn to let loose. She’d be able to spend holidays without the everpresent stress of working or not being productive. She’d learn it was okay to fail, as long as she stood up to try again.
A girl born golden, too tough to crack would melt into the same malleability of gold. She’d embrace her intelligence and bravery, weaponising her softness in the same way. Whoever said feminity wasn’t as strong as masculinity?
A war hero. A mother. A friend. A student.
Such is the tale of Alice Fortescue; a golden child turned to pure gold.