The First Steps
A little girl barely even eight years of age, stared at a run down building that looked abandoned and decrepit. It’s a chilly October afternoon, the little girl is bundled up in a neat little sweater covered in paw print patterns. The sweater was obviously well loved, a couple sizes too big on her little form.
To the eyes of the passersby around her the building was a shoddy thing where no one would dare enter, but to her it was a cute little shop with a sign that read ‘Patricia’s Potions’. A short and stocky old woman that the little girl could see from the window of the shop bustled about inside.
The little girl looked at the sign, then looked at the older woman inside who spun around in a circle as boxes seemed to float in mid air around her. A shiny wooden stick held in an upward motion in the woman’s hands.
The girl looked up at the sign, then back at the woman.
The girl looked down at her hands, then around at the people on the street who were completely ignoring the phenomenon of an old woman seeming to be able to levitate boxes.
“What the absolute shit?” The girl cursed furiously underneath her breath, which was not normal vocabulary for an eight year old.
The girl quickly spun on her heel, sprinting back to the children’s home. Abandoning her earlier quest of visiting the local library for the first time.
____
Lia Clarke was her name in this life, decidedly a lot different from her old name. When she was in her early twenties she was struck in the back of the head with a stray bullet during a gas station shootout and was promptly reincarnated into the body she now called her own. She had only recently gained awareness of her situation at about three years old.
She was a little miffed to find herself reincarnated in the past, but just assumed that reincarnation wasn’t a linear experience. Her first life she was born in the early 2000s but in this one she was born in 1975. She was a Pagan in her last life (as well as in this one, Christianity was not her cup of tea no offense) so the concept of reincarnation wasn’t all that strange to her.
She was also extremely sad to find herself an orphan, and not even a proper orphan. Her parents hadn't died; they had abandoned her at the steps of the children’s home with nothing but a note with her name on it.
She was fine with her lot in life though, if this was the path she was meant to walk then she would gladly walk it and learn all the lessons that were meant for her. Even if she was a little resentful of her parents, it was completely rational to be a little angry at people who have wronged you.
She tried not to hold too much hate in her heart for her wayward parents. She didn’t exactly know the circumstances so she couldn’t make a proper judgment. Her parents could’ve been poor and wished for a better life for her, or her mother could’ve been a victim and couldn’t bear the thought of raising a child in that situation. She tried to understand all the angles but the abandonment still stung. Old wounds from her past life freshly cut open in a new way.
She was happy for a new chance, a clean slate. She had quickly established herself as a prodigy and had plans to go to a nice University and make a lot of money in the future. (Even if her ‘prodigious nature’ was cheating, since she had all of her adult memories from her past life.) The first few months after turning three she began having strange dreams, dreams of a Movie/Book franchise from her past life but the plot in her dreams was different. A series she loved dearly even if the writer was a bigoted bitch.
The dreams seemed real. As though she was experiencing them herself.
She had dreams of a married couple with distinct blonde hair, clutching each other as they cried quietly on the anniversary of their daughter’s birth.
Dreams of Albus Dumbledore pulling sludge from a baby Harry Potter’s forehead with his wand and setting it alight; watching it burn for a moment. Then setting the sleeping child down on a basket in front of a well maintained house; knocking on the door of the house before apparating away.
Dreams of participating in the Triwizard Tournament.
Sirius Black being found innocent and taking in Harry Potter, instead of being on the run from a corrupt Ministry for a murder and betrayal he didn’t commit after escaping prison on plans of vengeance.
She thought these dreams were just little fantasies she cooked up in her own mind, but she had little flashes too that would warn her when the Caretaker of the children’s home was about to turn the corner when she was stealing extra food. Whispers in her head that would guide her away from less than kind strangers. Predictions that would become reality.
In her last life she would get feelings or hunches that turned out true, but nothing like the accuracy she experienced in this life.
Her plans of going to University were dashed, though, when she noticed a little shop on her walk towards the library. A potions shop, a real potions shop. She was almost certain she had been reincarnated into the Harry Potter Universe, a fictional world come to life. It was different from what she read, if her dreams were to be believed.
She was a witch, and not just any type of witch. She was a Seer, seeing both the past and future of this new world.
What. The. Fuck.
____
She wasn’t completely convinced of her situation, even if she had seen glaring proof of it with her very eyes. She needed guidance and reassurance. She quickly spun a tale to the Caretaker, saying how big and beautiful the library was and how she would check out a book next time because she had just wanted to see it first.
Since her chores for the day were done she scurried off to her room, locking the door behind her. She pulled up a floorboard next to her bed, hidden inside the little hole was a nondescript box.
Inside the box was a candle, a small bowl, two small drinking glasses, a bundle of dried wild flowers, a red cloth, a deck of playing cards, a notebook, a kitchen knife, and a triangular shaped rock tied to a string. She set the box on her desk, already feeling a sense of calm wash over her as she felt that familiar presence of pure heat wash over her.
She grabbed a pitcher of water that sat next to her bed, bringing it with her to her desk. She felt a sense of guilt with how lackluster her altar was in this life, not to mention the fact that it was hidden in fear of the God fearing Caretaker finding it. That feeling of guilt she felt was washed away quickly with feelings of reassurance and unconditional love from her Patron.
She quickly set up the altar, laying down the cloth (it was a piece of old shirt that she had stolen from the donation pile that the children’s home regularly got, cut up for this purpose) and setting the candle at the center. The candle was white, clearly old and used. She would have preferred it to be red or a golden yellow, but she had stolen it from the church one Sunday and all they had was white candles. On the front of the candle was a sigil clearly carved with an unsteady childish hand.
The sigil was quite distinct. The God fearing Caretaker would have no clue what the sigil represented though, which eased some of her fear of being beaten or exorcized by a priest.
The sigil was of Lord Lucifer, the lightbringer, the Lord of Enlightenment, of Duality, of Knowledge, of Venus, of Beauty. Her patron in both of her lives, she had broken down in a crying fit of pure joy when she realized he was still with her in her new life. The Caretaker had thought she was having some sort of tantrum when that happened and locked her in her room, that was some five or so years ago.
The bowl was set in front of the candle (an offering bowl), one of the glasses next to the candle, the bundle of flowers was placed in the bowl, the deck of cards set off to the side of the cloth, the kitchen knife set to the left, and the notebook in her lap. She poured some water in the glass sitting next to the candle, before pouring some in the second glass for herself.
She went to grab the matches from the drawer of her desk before she paused and thought to herself, if I really am in a world of magic, couldn’t I light the candle with magic? She posed her hand as if to snap her fingers, she felt a pressure on her elbow not unlike a guiding hand. She closed her eyes and concentrated, feeling whispers of encouragement over her shoulder.
She opened her eyes, with the firm image of a flame in her mind she snapped her fingers. She nearly screamed when a small flame burst to life just above her thumb. She moved her trembling hand above the wick of the candle, lighting it before shaking her hand to extinguish her flaming thumb. She sat there for a second, in absolute shock. Magic was nowhere near this overt and powerful in her last life. Nowhere near this physical. It was astonishing.
She had the vague sense that her Patron was laughing over her shoulder.
She took a long fortifying drink of water before she grabbed the rock tied to a string, setting her elbow on the desk to balance her hand. The tip of the string held in between her fingers as the rock swayed around lazily with no real direction. (a pendulum)
She took a deep breath to center herself and get rid of the roiling anxiety in her gut from her discovery. She knew that she didn’t really need all of this fanfare to connect and ask for guidance from her Patron, but the ritual of setting up his altar and sharing a drink with him calmed her immensely. The motions are familiar and second nature at this point.
“Have I been reincarnated into a version of the Harry Potter universe?” She asked, the pendulum quickly swung back and forth in a very clear yes.
“Is it much different from the books and movies?” Another very enthusiastic yes.
“Am I a witch? Like a real wand waving ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ witch?” The pendulum floated out of her hand, and levitated into the air. She simply stared at it floating above her head.
She felt pressure on her shoulders, like someone placing their hands on her shoulders to calm her. She willed the pendulum to stop floating and stared at it as it plopped onto the desk.
“Well… I guess that's my answer.” She mumbled, her voice shaking.
___
Wasn’t wandless magic supposed to be… hard? She found it came easy to her, which was absolutely baffling. Magic in her last life required substance and very clear intent, rituals meant to guide invisible forces to things like luck and peace. Yes, one could train themselves to do more physical displays of magic. Like verbally cursing someone to their face and their misfortune happening soon thereafter, or clearly predicting something that others would be sure you were some type of witch, or doing a ritual in public to make yourself appear invisible and then sliding away from everyone’s notice(still physically visible, you would just fade into the background as though you weren’t particularly interesting).
Affirmations, petitions to the universe, moon water, prayers to your deities, cinnamon for abundance, black salt for protection, selenite for cleansing, astral travel.
Nothing so overt as snapping your fingers to light a flame!
No fancy words needed, no spell jars to charge the energy, no ingredients chosen for their meanings.
Just pure raw intent and focus.
Absolutely mental.
She suspected her ease at wandless magic had much to do with her Patron’s guidance and the fact that meditation was a vital skill for magic in her last life, a habit she built up and carried over into this universe.
Did that mean she was Occlumens? Possibly.
She wasn’t keen on finding a Legilimens to test the theory. Absolutely not.
She had done her freaking out, now was time to go make a friend. She finally got permission to leave the Children’s home one Tuesday evening, told strictly to be back before the sun set. The Caretaker was a prickly old woman who was constantly stressed from the amount of children she had to deal with, often clutching the cross around her neck as she sighed and huffed about ‘troublesome children’. The amount of foster homes willing or able to take children recently was shockingly low, causing the children’s home to be hopelessly overrun and understaffed.
Lia didn’t really blame the Caretaker for her bad attitude, she understood how stressful children could be. That doesn’t mean she would forgive the old bat easily for laying hands on her and the other kids. Corporal punishment aside, the Caretaker (or the head of the Children’s home, or whatever you wanted to call her) was just trying her best to do right by the upwards of thirty or so children in her care, and Lia wouldn’t fault her for that.
No matter how much she wanted to slap the old biddy.
As soon as she had gotten the reluctant ‘fine, go ahead’ from the Caretaker, she was quick to make her way back to the potions shop, sticking her head in the door with a curious and awed look on her face that she didn’t even have to fake. The place had an energy to it that was so clearly… magical.
“Hello there, dearie. Did your mum send you to fetch some ingredients?”
Lia startled at the voice, she had forgotten about the old woman in her awe. Even though the woman was her whole reason for coming here.
“Oh… Um. no, miss. I didn’t mean to intrude but I noticed no one on the street even seemed to look at this place despite how pretty it is. Is it a type of grocery store?” She asked, her voice childlike and curious. She hoped that she could befriend the old woman here and let her teach her a thing or two about magic or potions. She had to play up her Muggleborness for that to succeed, though.
The woman looked down at her fondly, she had come from behind the counter to regard the little curly headed albino child sticking her head through her door. The woman’s stature and kind eyes reminded Lia fiercely of Molly Weasly but the woman in front of her was clearly much older than the Weasley Matriarch.
“Not as such, dearie. This is a potions shop, there's a charm on the building to keep Muggles from noticing it.”
Lia stepped fully through the door, hearing a little musical trill that must have been a charm to alert the woman (who she assumed was named Patricia, if the sign was to be believed), and tilted her head like she was terribly confused. She often played up her cuteness, she found it was a great tool to get people to like her. Who could hate a little girl with bouncing white curls pulled back with a cute little headband, with a little blushing button nose and pretty blue eyes that shined with wonder and curiosity.
(She had become terribly vain in this life, she realized.)
“Potions? Like medicine? Are you a chemist, ma’am? What do you mean by Muggles? I didn’t see any charms hanging on the building.”
The woman chuckled as though Lia was particularly adorable, “Ah, a muggleborn, then. Let me close up the shop, it's a slow day anyway. We can have a cuppa and I’ll explain this the best I can, little one.”
The woman reached over, flipping the sign on the door so it read ‘closed’ to those outside it. She motioned for Lia to follow her, leading her to a back room that turned out to be a kitchen. The woman pulled her wand from seemingly nowhere, causing a kettle to fly from a cupboard and move to the sink to fill itself with water.
Lia gasped at the sight, still completely star struck by displays of physical magic.
The woman looked fondly down at her as she gestured to one of the chairs at the cute little wooden dining table, Lia was quick to climb up on it as the woman sat across from her.
“Now then, dearie, I don’t believe I caught your name.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry, miss. The Caretaker at the Children’s home is always telling me off for my poor manners, my name is Lia Clarke. It’s nice to meet you, are you a magician?”
The old woman chuckled fondly, her eyes dimming just a little at the mention of a Children’s home. Such a bright happy girl, already used to tragedy.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Lia. My name is Patricia Sprout. And no, I am not a magician, I'm what is called a witch, a Potions Mistress to be exact.”
Lia’s mouth hurt from how much she was grinning. “Wow! I’ve never met a witch before! Can you teach me how to be one too?”
She made sure to hint at the fact that she was orphaned, just so she didn’t have to awkwardly explain that she was dumped like unwanted trash and that she had no family. Lia might have been jumping the gun with the ‘can you teach me?’ bit but she was way too excited to be even a little bit subtle. She didn’t like to trick people, and would only do it if absolutely necessary. She wasn’t really lying about being a muggleborn, just the fact of her reading the Harry Potter books in her last life and being a Seer gave her more knowledge than most.
Also back up, Sprout? As in Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff house?
“I can tutor you, dearie. But you’re already a witch, the fact that you can see my shop is proof enough that you have magic.”
Lia often wondered about this moment in the future, how she must’ve looked as she took in those words. ‘You have magic’, her eyes must have sparkled as she let out a soft gasp, as though the universe had left something precious at her feet.
“Wow…”
Patricia chuckled at Lia’s wonder, getting up slowly on creaky bones as she went to fix them two cups of tea. Mixing some honey into Lia’s tea as it was too late in the day for little ones to be having sugar.
Patricia set the cup in front of the little white haired child, letting the girl gather up the millions of questions in her head as the old Potions Mistress took a sip of her own tea.
Lia nearly burst into tears when she tasted the warm chamomile tea in her cup. It used to be her favorite and she had a special blend that she would always buy in her last life. The warm tea, sweetened with honey calmed the raging emotions inside of the little girl once a woman. Lia often found that even though she had a whole life before this one, it was as though she was growing up all over again in every sense of the word. Not just physically.
Sure she was more mature than most if not all children her age, but she still felt like a kid. She knew she would mature much faster mentally than those around her due to her circumstances, but for now, she wanted to enjoy the years she had left of feeling like a kid again.
“Now,” Mrs Sprout said calmly after a moment, “I know this may be a shock to you, dearie. I know you have plenty of questions you wish to ask me, but please let me explain a few things first.”
Lia nodded happily, positively vibrating with excitement.
“A girl wixen is called a witch, boy wixen are called wizards. wixen is used as a plural term or neutral term. Do you know what plural and neutral mean?”
“Yes ma’am. Plural means more than one, that is to say wixen is used to describe a group of magic people. Neutral, as in neither, which means it can be used to describe a magic person who is neither a witch or wizard.” Lia said confidently as she fiddled with her teacup.
She decided to show off her ‘smarter than the average eight year old’ qualities to keep Mrs Sprout away from any ideas of treating her as less intelligent or babying her academically.
“Very good! You’re a very smart girl!” Mrs Sprout congratulated, sounding genuinely surprised and happy.
“Mhm! My professors said that I’m a prodigy, I always get full marks on my tests and my teachers wanted me to move up a few years but the Caretaker thought that would be bad for my social development. Now the teachers just give me work for the older years to keep me occupied.”
Mrs Sprout hummed, looking quite pleasantly surprised by her declaration. “Well, I won’t hold back anything from my teachings then. Do you want something to take notes with, dearie?”
“Yes please.”
Mrs Sprout handed her a small stack of blank textured paper that Lia realized was parchment, and a pencil to write with. Once Lia had her pencil posed to start writing, Mrs Sprout straightened her back as she went into what Lia would come to know as her ‘lecture mode’.
“Wixen have been around since the dawn of humanity, much of the start of our species as a whole is lost to time. Many theorize that wixen are a breed of magicals combined from the wandering Druids of old and Hearth Wixen, this is merely speculation but there are many historical artifacts that suggest this to be fact. Wixen observe pagan religion, though modern times and education have begun to favor more muggle traditions, paganism has been a fact of wixen culture as far back as we can observe.”
Mrs Sprout took a sip of her tea, giving Lia a moment to write down as much as possible.
“There are many branches of magic to learn, most magic on the British Isles is performed with a wand with Latin incantations. As Latin is an old language, it is easier to channel magic through. There are many old languages that are used to channel magic, though Latin is the main one you will learn. You can’t simply create a spell with modern English. Unless it is a wandless wordless spell based only on intent or knowledge and/or repetition of a spell it must have words and wand movements attached to it. Wand movements are used to guide magic towards certain tasks, with certain symbolisms being attached to the movements. While incantations or the words attached to spells are meant to specify your magic towards exactly what you want.” Another pause for tea.
“The most common and everyday forms of magic that you will learn and perform are Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. Transfiguration is the act of changing the appearance or form of an object by altering its molecular structure.”
Mrs Sprout pointed her wand at the vase at the center of the table, turning it into a mouse. The mouse looked around, squeaking and cleaning its whiskers with its paws. Lia stared absolutely starstruck at the mouse-once-a-vase.
“Though the vase appears to be a mouse, sounds like a mouse, and moves like a mouse. It is still just a vase.” Mrs Sprout waved her wand, turning the mouse back into a vase.
“The next branch of magic is Charms, spells that give people or objects special properties. Also referred to as Enchantments, which is the name this branch of magic went by when I was a young witch.” Mrs Patricia waved her wand at the vase, causing it to float up a few feet above the table before it floated back down. Lia giggled at the sight, positively giddy at the display.
Mrs Sprout smiled briefly at the sound before schooling her expression and slipping back into lecture mode.
“Then we have Potions, which in my opinion the most versatile of these three branches of magic. Potions are the art of brewing magical concoctions from a variety of ingredients. Potions can be used to heal the body, bewitch the mind, calm the nerves, to kill, to strengthen, instill luck upon a person, pry the truth from someone, soothe the stomach, and even something as humorous as giving someone a squeaky voice. To have a good foundation in Potions you must also have a good foundation in Herbology, which is the study of magical plants and will provide a good percentage of the ingredients in brewing.”
That speech right there would kick off Lia’s borderline obsession with potions and herbology.
Mrs Sprout finished her tea as Lia tried to cram as much of that information into her notes as possible. For Lia notes were more of a way to cement the knowledge into her head, journaling was for putting down information that she could look back at later. When Lia came to a stopping point with her notes Mrs Sprout continued.
“When you turn eleven years of age you will be offered to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The school is separated into four school houses, Hufflepuff for the Loyal and Hardworking, Gryffindor for the Brave and Chivalrous, Ravenclaw for the Knowledgeable and Wise, and finally Slytherin for the Cunning and Ambitious.”
Lia scribbled the name of the school she would one day attend, along with the houses and their traits underneath it. Once she was done with her notes she had five pages filled front to back.
“Now then, questions?” Mrs Sprout gave an amused smile at her slightly overwhelmed expression.
“So many questions! But- oh! It’s nearly sundown! I have to get back to the Children’s home or the Caretaker will be so cross with me!”
Mrs Sprout chuckled, “Let me fetch you some prep work books and I’ll walk you there. I’d like to ask permission from the Caretaker to tutor you on Saturdays.”
Lia quickly finished her tea while Mrs Sprout shuffled into a different room, presumably to fetch the books.
Lia went to wait at the entrance and accepted an armful of six books from Mrs Sprout.
Mrs Sprout led Lia out the front door of the shop, presumably locking the door behind her with her wand.
As Mrs Sprout led her down the street towards the Children’s home she continued to lecture.
“Now, don’t feel as though you have to rush to read all those books in a single sitting. You have plenty of time until you attend Hogwarts. How old are you, Lia dearie?”
“I’m eight years old, miss.”
“Three years then, to read and study as much as you like. Best not to rush, though, or there won’t be anything left for you to learn at school and then you’ll be bored to tears until you turn seventeen.”
“When did you go to Hogwarts, Mrs Sprout?”
“Ah, I attended my first year of Hogwarts in 1835.”
Lia spluttered, nearly tripping over her feet and dropping her arm load of books if not for Mrs Sprout steadying her.
“B-but that would make you… one hundred and sixty!! You don’t even look eighty!!”
Mrs Sprout threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh, luckily there was no one on the road near them to hear their peculiar conversation. “Oh, thank you dearie, that lifts my spirits. You will find that witches and wizards have much longer lifespans than muggles. Muggles being people without magic. Although I’m quite old, even for a witch. The average lifespan for wixen is around one hundred and thirty-seven. Sixty is actually considered middle age amongst Wixen. Believe it or not, I even taught Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts.”
Mrs Sprout had a lively glint in her eye, as she regaled Lia of tales from her life. From her years at Hogwarts in Hufflepuff to teaching Albus Dumbledore to being the first witch to complete a Potions Mastery.
Mrs Sprout became a Potions Mistress at twenty years of age, not only becoming the first Potions Mistress but also the quickest and youngest person to complete their mastery. Her mastery lasted three years. In those three years she created the infamous potion known as Polyjuice Potion. A potion that allows the drinker to take the appearance of someone else.
Her record was broken, however, when Severus Snape graduated Hogwarts and became a Potions Master in just over a year as he became a Potions master at eighteen. Becoming the youngest Potions Master in history with his creation of the Wolfsbane Potion.
Mrs Sprout began teaching at Hogwarts as a Potions Professor, and stayed in the position of Head of Hufflepuff House until Albus Dumbledore began as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Where she then retired and started up her shop as more of a hobby than a serious source of income. Mrs Sprout commented that she had worked for so long she had enough money to retire a couple generations ago. Grumbling about how she should’ve retired when she was still young and spry.
She talked of her Great-great-great-grand niece, the current Head of Hufflepuff and the Herbology professor at Hogwarts. Her niece was the only family she spoke of though, dodging questions regarding her family with ease. Lia had a feeling that the two wizarding wars have taken much from the old Potions Mistress.
When they finally made it to the Children’s home the Caretaker was standing at the entrance looking worried, before the expression melted away into absolute fury. She was obviously about to rip into Lia with a vengeance, her hand posed to grab a hold of the little girl’s ear.
That was until Mrs Sprout stopped her, spinning a tale of how they had met at the library and gotten to talking about Latin literature and physics. How Mrs Sprout was in awe of her intelligence, and how she used to be ‘a Professor at a prestigious school in Scotland’ and how she would simply love to take over her education so that she could send in a recommendation for Lia to attend her alma mater in the future.
The Caretaker was cowed, seemingly letting her desire to see her wards succeed take over her desire to throttle them for breaking the rules. The Caretaker eventually agreed to let Mrs Sprout take over her education, just as long as Lia could attend regular school on Mondays and Tuesdays so that she could socialize with other children, as well as church on Sundays.
Lia was absolutely thrilled, she would get to see Mrs Sprout much more often than on just Saturdays. Four whole days a week to learn about the magic of this world!
The Caretaker waved Lia inside, telling her to get ready for bed. Lia turned to give Mrs Sprout one last thankful smile before darting inside.
_____
A young couple sat in front of a beautifully woven tapestry, illustrated with an upside down silver tree that hung with the generations of their family that spanned up towards the ceiling, so high and tall and grand that you wouldn’t be able to see the roots that began somewhere at the top of the tapestry.
The couple leaned into each other for comfort, their youngest child held in their arms as the young boy cooed in confusion. Reaching for the picture next to his own on the tree that seemed to have been burnt off, the name under it almost illegible.
The mother, regal and beautiful even as tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
“Yes, my little Dragon. That’s your dear sister.”
The father, stricken with grief and guilt, looked at the ruined illustration that represented his lost daughter as though it was the shards of his own heart laid bare. Unable to look at the evidence of his failure, he turned his gaze away to rest his forehead on his wife’s golden curls. His own curtain of white hair hung over his face to hide his tears.
His son grabbed gently at his hair, looking so concerned and sad for such a young boy. Too young to truly understand the gravity of the situation but old enough to know his mama and papa were sad.
The mother ran her hand up her husband’s back in a soothing motion, as though she could somehow ease the aching of his soul. Even as steady tears ran down her face in a never ending stream she still tried to comfort her husband.
“We’ll find her, one day.” The mother reassured him.
“Soon.” The father promised her, with iron will even as any leads they had on their daughter’s whereabouts all came to dead ends.
“Soon.” The mother agreed.
————
Lia gasped as she awoke, quickly grabbing her dream journal to scribble out as much as she could remember about her dream.
She had been studying with Mrs Sprout, (“Oh, just call me Patty, dearie.”) for over a month now. When she had told Mrs- (she still couldn’t get used to calling the woman Patty, habits were hard to break) Patty, about her dreams that would come true and how her guesses were always right and had asked if that had to do with magic. Patty was quick to acquire any books she possibly could on Seers.
While muggleborn Seers were very uncommon they weren’t unheard of, as Seeing was typically a trait passed down in pureblood families. Patty theorized that muggleborn Seers likely weren’t truly completely muggleborn and possibly had a squib from a prominent family somewhere in their family lineage.
It seemed that Lia’s gift was a mix of Dream Seeing and Instinct Seeing (also known as Intuition Seeing). She had instructed her to keep a dream journal and helped her ward it so that only Lia would have access to it, as the future was tricky and anything Lia shared could have consequences on how it played out. Not to mention that she was seeing the pasts of people she hadn’t even met as well as their present. Patty had instructed to train her gift so that she could meddle with the future safely, and to try and keep any sensitive information she learned about others to herself unless it was necessary to reveal it.
For her Instinct Seeing, Patty would lay down some playing cards face down and ask Lia to grab a specific card. She would also have the young witch play other guessing games such as Two Truths and a Lie.
Patty had also given Lia even more books, specifically books on Seers. When Patty realized just how many books that Lia had acquired from her in the past month she had bought Lia a storage trunk meant for books, it was a cheerful yellow color with daisies patterned on the sleek leather finish. The trunk had an Undetectable Expansion charm on it along with a Muggle Notice-Me-Not charm. Lia loved the trunk dearly and spent ages organizing her books alphabetically and by category.
Today was Saturday, her only off day during the week. As Patty had given her every other Saturday off, and was quick to give the girl a break on a Saturday if she looked too tuckered out to learn anything. (She didn’t count Church as an off day. Contrary to popular belief witches didn’t burst into flames upon entering hallowed grounds, but were prone to incredible boredom during christian sermons.)
She was on her bed, watching the wind whip the trees around in the backyard of the Children’s home. It was a gloomy November day, cold and dreary.
She had a book open in her lap, one of the many gifted to her by Patty. The title was ‘Soulmates, an Introduction for Muggleborns.’ It was a book she had read so many times she could recite it by heart. Apparently, Soulmates were a very real phenomenon in this world.
She began to reread the first few pages, her heart fluttering in her chest as she did.
‘Soulmates are believed to have been around possibly as long as Magic herself. Love divined and given freely by Lady Magic. Yes, dear Muggleborn reader, even you have a soulmate(s).
This is not merely romantic fiction, but pure fact of our wondrous society. One of the most important things in a wixen’s life is their soulmate(s).
In this first chapter I will give a brief introduction on the different types of soulmates, as well as some of the laws regarding soulmates on the British Isles, as well as common social rules and rituals. In subsequent chapters I will discuss popular soulmate stories, as well as the only known person in history to not have a soulmate.
On a wixen’s eleventh birthday, at the exact time they were born, a marking will appear on either your right forearm, your left forearm, or both.
The right forearm is an indicator of a romantic soulmate, this is required by law to be covered by a brace that cannot be removed until a wixen reaches magical maturity. This law was passed because romantic soulmate bonds can only form when both or all parties are of age. I cannot stress this enough, dear reader, a romantic bond physically cannot form until you have reached magical maturity.
Some also note that the covering of romantic soulmarks during the adolescent stage allows young wixen to gain romantic experiences during their school years instead of fumbling about when they first meet their soulmates. I know I certainly had plenty of Hogsmeade dates during my Hogwarts years. When I met my darling soulmate who is now my husband, I knew what to expect in regards to a relationship which is why I find this law to be incredibly helpful and often necessary.
Another more medically necessary reason for the brace coverings, is that once a soulmate bond is revealed to either party of the bond their magic begins reaching out in an effort to form it. This can be detrimental when one of the parties is older than the other, as their magic is reaching towards their missing piece and it's unable to latch on. This can cause severe damage to the magical core. This was often a fatal condition before brace coverings were required.
It’s uncommon for someone to have more than one romantic soulmate, but certainly not underhead of. The current record holder is a witch in Australia with seven romantic soulmates. I’m sure she never has a dull moment in her life, that's for sure.
If you have a marking or markings on your left forearm, this is an indicator for a platonic soulmate(s). Lifelong friends, confidants, your family, so much more than the average acquaintance. Your platonic soulmate will be your best friend through thick and thin. There is no law requiring wixen to cover their platonic soulmate marks, as they begin to form in adolescence and strengthen slowly throughout the years. That isn’t to say you won’t hit it off immediately with your platonic soulmate, you most likely will.
What I mean by ‘bond’ is the physical magical bond between your magical core and your soulmate’s magical core. Some even theorize that your soul itself bonds with your soulmates but alas, that is something only an Unspeakable could confirm.
Multiple platonic soulmarks are much more common than in romantic soulmate marks. Who doesn’t like having friends? It’s actually more rare to only have one platonic marking than none.
The magical core is hard to observe, but studies have been conducted to reveal that platonic bonds form differently in the core than romantic bonds. While a platonic bond starts slowly as your magic reaches to the innermost parts or your mate’s core, a romantic bond forms very intensely and very fast. It reaches towards the core and latches together at an alarmingly fast pace. This is not an actual indicator of your relationships with your different soulmates, you can love both your platonic soulmates and romantic just as deeply but in different ways. This is simply an observation of the differences in the magical bonding aspect of the bonds.
When one of your soulmates passes this leaves a permanent scar on your very magic, as the bond rips itself apart in the event of a death. Your mark will fade until it’s barely visible upon your skin. This is a very tragic thing that can happen to someone, a very horrid fact of life for many wixen after the war.
Widows of soulmates may find that it’s harder to cast magic. Especially spells that are more emotionally driven.’
Lia hadn’t asked about Patty’s soulmates, but considering the elder witch keeps her arms covered and never mentioned any soulmates of her own Lia could only assume the worst. Her heart broke for her teacher, she couldn’t imagine what that must be like and Lia hoped she would never find out.
‘But enough of the morbid stuff, let’s get into etiquette regarding soulmates.
When you find one of your platonic soulmates, it’s customary to stand facing each other and press your left hands together. This will help spark the bond and your magic will begin to form the platonic bond, slowly growing throughout the years.
Platonic soulmate bonds are a very informal affair, but by law and as a social bond rule platonic soulmates are considered akin to siblings.
Romantic bonds, however, are much more complicated. At Hogwarts when you turn seventeen in your seventh year your Head of House will remove your arm brace for you and allow you to traverse the school in search of your soulmate. Many romantic soulmates find their mark matches at Hogwarts but there are some who find them later in life. This tradition is an unlucky one for those with summer birthdays.
You may be wondering “what if one of my younger schoolmates turns out to be my soulmate?” The arm braces act as a bit of a Memory charm as they make the wearer unable to recall what their romantic soulmark looks like, so you won’t find out until they turn seventeen. Some may find this unethical, and it is a bit questionable but it’s better than finding out who your romantic soulmate is at a time in your life when the bond is unable to form.
Some families choose to make their children wear long sleeves on their eleventh birthday before checking their right arms for a mark. That way, if the child doesn’t know what their romantic mark looks like they won’t need an arm brace that fiddles with their memories.
If the parties in a romantic soulmate bond are relatively close in age, they begin courting once they find each other and they’re families come together for a Bonding Ceremony after a few weeks to a few months of courting depending on the soulmates. Romantic bonds begin to form immediately and are very intense since they spring so quickly.
Courting is similar to dating but it is a much more serious affair as you are getting to know the person you were destined for instead of something trivial like a school yard crush.
In the event that there is a much older party in a romantic soulmate bond, it’s tradition for the older party to present their mark to the younger party along with a gift to begin the courting process. The courting process for these types of bonds are typically much longer, usually a year or more depending on the soulmates.
It’s been observed that even when romantic soulmates are unaware of each other but still interact, they are often prone to being kind to one another. Even in the event that they consider themselves strangers. As though their soul recognizes one of their other halves and doesn’t want to harm them.
A research group conducted a social study at Hogwarts around sixty years ago. I’ll leave the title of the study in the end notes of the book but it's pretty long-winded, I suspect a gaggle of Ravenclaws probably wrote it.
The main point of the study that I wanted to cover was that they had observed an older Slytherin student often being more friendly to one of their younger Gryffindor schoolmates. Even though these two houses had a notorious rivalry and these two students hadn’t met until they attended Hogwarts. The Slytherin student was observed defending the young Gryffindor from their fellow Slytherin housemates, helping them out in classes, and even defending them from teachers with house bias. It was discovered later that the pair were romantic soulmates. Interesting stuff, isn’t it?
It is considered very taboo to show your romantic soulmark off to others willy nilly, the tradition at Hogwarts is an exception to this rule. There are events in place across the world where people can bare their marks in search for their romantic soulmate, but in everyday life it’s considered rude. It’s akin to walking on the street in nothing but your knickers. Unless, of course, the person you are showing is one of your platonic soulmates or your immediate family.’
Lia traced the words with her fingers as though they were a gold engravings along the pages. Soulmates were a real thing here, so real and common that there were laws and social rules regarding them.
Patty had told her that the first chapter was pretty much all she would need to read, just the introduction really, as the rest of the book was mostly fluff filled with stories of famous soulmates throughout history as well as a brief couple of pages claiming ‘You-Know-Who’ as the only known wixen in history to have absolutely no soulmarks to speak of. (Lia had a theory that he might have had them when he was younger, but the damage done to his soul due to horcruxes could have caused them to fade.)
Patty hadn’t wanted her to get into history just yet in her education, most of what she was learning now were things that were common knowledge amongst wixen children as well as prep for her first year classes at Hogwarts.
She closed the book, setting it in her lap as she lightly touched her bare forearms with her fingers. Tracing along her skin and imagining it blooming with tattoo-like markings on her eleventh birthday. She didn’t even really know her exact birthday, when she was dumped at the Children’s home she had been rushed to the hospital when she was discovered. The doctors had said she was barely a day old, maybe even hours old.
Dumped and forgotten so soon after greeting the world, with nothing but a name.
She would know soon enough what her exact birthday was, in a few years.
Lia groaned, standing to her feet as she went to fetch Patty’s Yule gift. It wasn’t much, just a scarf that she was knitting with some pretty green yarn. Lia was friends with the woman who worked at the local crafts store and she had given Lia some yarn and knitting needles this year when she had mentioned how she wanted to learn how to knit. She didn’t really want to ‘learn’ but wanted to get back into a hobby from her previous life but she couldn’t exactly say that outright.
Patty had offered to celebrate Yule with her this year and she had readily accepted. She used to celebrate Yule in her last life in secret and was so sick of Christmas it wasn’t even funny at this point, Jesus wasn’t even born in December. The bible even implied he was born in the warmer months.
Her knitting needles clicked together in a soothing rhythm as she pondered.
Geez, she really was a jaded Pagan. She spent the majority of her last life in the Deep South, right in the Bible Belt. Surrounded on all sides by diehard bible thumpers, she was deep in the closet with her religion and would pretend to be Christian when it suited her.
She did not want to risk her life or her safety, even if she was a Pagan. She knew her Patron hadn’t minded, nor any of the other gods she worked with in passing.
If she had to clasp her hands and pretend to pray to the Christian god in thanks before eating for her own safety then so be it. She had nothing against Christianity, it was just that the people around her were bloodhounds for when someone wasn’t like them. They would make your life hell if you showed so much as an ounce of doubt in their religion.
Forget the fact that America was the ‘land of the free’. Where she had lived, there was no such thing as freedom of religion.
Now she lived in a world where magic was a visible and physical force, where Paganism was common and accepted. Or at least she hoped it was, even if at Hogwarts they celebrated Christmas for the sake of the muggleborns. She would be able to say ‘Blessed Yule’ and not have someone spit at her feet.
Though she imagined a first year muggleborn who was openly Pagan might raise some eyebrows.
She couldn’t care less, though, she was going to set up her altar in her dorm room and not take it down until summer. She was going to celebrate Yule, Samhain, and Ostara! She was going to perform rituals for her Patron. (not openly, mind, as that was a private affair. But without fear of being discovered!)
All the things she was unable to do in her last life she was going to do with gusto in this one.
She was going to live every second of it, too.
No more miserable hiding, no more being alone. She was going to have friends and soulmates and hold them so close in her heart without fearing if they’ll reject her and break it. She was going to be herself, so wholly and completely herself without masks or pretending.
Her friends were going to be her friends, not the version of herself that she showed them.
She was going to do well in school, especially Potions because she wanted Patty (her first real friend) to see that Lia was taking an interest in her chosen subject.
She was so excited to be alive, she could hardly contain herself. She set down her knitting project and just danced around the room, the weary gray sky seemed oblivious to her mood. If the world reflected what she felt inside right now the sun would be shining, the birds would be chirping, the air itself would smell sweet, and the trees would dance with the breeze in joy.
But as it was, the weather did not reflect the moods of young witches whose magical cores were not strong enough to control acts of nature.
But as if the earth herself had said, ‘here child, a token to your happiness’, flowers bloomed on the ground outside her window. A contrast to the dead and dreary winter scene around it.
Lia remained none the wiser, and simply danced around her room as fresh flowers just outside her window sprung from the cold dirt and danced with her.
———
Before Lia knew it, it was December 21st.
Patty had gotten permission from the Caretaker to house her during the month of December. It was a grueling process with lots of forms and Patty even had to alter the wards on her shop to allow a home visit from a social worker to make sure Patty’s home was appropriate for a child, as well as an interview to make sure Patty herself was able to look after Lia if only for just a month.
It was absolutely blissful. Patty had fixed up a spare room for her to stay in, their mornings were calm and quiet. Enjoying warm hearty breakfast foods and cups of rich hot chocolate. Course work books were set aside for popular Yule story books that Patty read to Lia in soft tones during the cold late nights. The elder witches' examples of magic became more to make Lia smile instead of just simply teaching her. Patty’s lectures had calmed into simply regaling the young witch with stories and life lessons.
During the month of December, Patricia Sprout became more than just simply Lia’s magic tutor. The two witches, young and old, became family.
So when the Yule log had finished burning, gifts had been exchanged, (Patty had gifted her some sweaters and books), and December neared its end, both witches found that they were hesitant to go back to simply being teacher and student.
Patricia Sprout, a loyal Hufflepuff to her very soul, unafraid of toil, petitioned to become Lia’s foster parent.
Adopting Lia outright simply wasn’t feasible at the moment, for a thing such as that even in the magical world took years to accomplish. Even fostering a child took a long while to be approved for.
During early May, just a few days after Beltane. Patty was finally, legally, Lia’s foster parent.
Patty was quick to file for magical guardianship as well, the process being much quicker as she had already been approved by the muggle government to foster Lia.
Lia had clung to the elder witch, so overcome with emotion as she sobbed into her robes.
“There now, dearie. You can finally call me Granny.”
Lia only laughed and cried that much harder. She had a family, a family that wanted her.
It was truly an amazing feeling.
…..
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