Winnifred Culpepper
April 1st, 1890
London, England
Madame Bashaw's Boarding School for Talented Young Ladies
Eleazar Fig was almost certain that Headmaster had lost his mind. Perhaps, Professor Black had finally acquired that absent, sense of humor he had quite evidently lacked since taking over the school. On that matter, when he was told by said headmaster to head to London to pick up a young 15-year-old witch that had only just sprouted into her magic, Fig actually laughed right in Black's face. Of course, the professor remained ever stagnant in his insufferable manner, and through his teeth, insisted to the older professor of Magical Theory that he go.
Beet red in frustration and embarrassment, Fig swore silently to himself, cursing Professor Black into an early grave for forcing him into this shameful experience. If this was an April Fool's joke, it was in such poor taste. Tasking a prestigious professor out just so that the caterpillar on his lip could curl in amusement had to be a complete, unethical violation of his contract as a teacher.
And so, he arrived, head hung in shame, his wrinkled, round cheeks pink with impending humiliation as he entered the muggle boarding school.
It was a quaint campus, and the main building was large, held up by white, Italian-style pillars, columns, and marble floors as far as the eye could see. And standing in the center, clutching a clipboard in shaking, shivering hands was a young woman with mousy brown hair, a flushed, pinched face, and swaddled in a long skirt and a shawl.
Eleazar Fig braced himself for the rebuttal as he approached the distracted woman, clearing his throat to gain her attention. She uttered a shrill gasp as she looked up her eyes wide with caution as she took a small step back.
"Oh, I-I, I beg your pardon, sir," Her voice wavered almost as much as her shaking hands and Fig's frown deepened.
"I apologize for the intrusion, madame, but I am here looking for a young woman. I've been informed she has displayed some abilities that...may not be perceived as normal?" As he spoke, he watched as the woman's whole body began to shake violently.
"Y-Yes, o-of course! P-Please, sir, we don't know where she is, b-but please, w-when you find her, p-please take her with you!" She whispered urgently, ensuring there was a great distance between them. She made a shaky, grandiose gesture to a door. "Y-You are more than welcome t-to join the o-other oddly dressed men here looking for her."
Fig stared openly at the woman in dismay. The headmaster had been serious. But this was...simply unheard of? A child blooming this late hardly seemed feasible. Yet the fear on that woman's face, the ghostly pallor of her skin, it was genuine of a muggle witnessing magic for the first time.
The second the woman met his eye, she folded at the hips and clutched the clipboard to her face as she managed out through quiet sobs, "I-I beg your forgiveness, I can't be more help...please, do not hurt me."
Fig opened his mouth to reassure her and then quickly shut it, deciding that trying to reason with this poor woman might cause more harm than good. he could only hope there was a skilled enough worker from the ministry on the way to tamper with this woman's memory to bring her some sort of relief.
Through the door, Fig found himself in what appeared to be a dormitory wing. There was a hush of whispers ringing through the air, and in the center of the bustle were three ministry officials, Aurors, by the looks of it. They turned when they saw Fig approach, his hands folded behind his back as he meandered through the dorm, trying to appear as harmless as possible. He was rushed by one of the wizards who seized him quickly and began speaking low and urgent.
"Professor Fig, right? Headmaster Black informed us you would be coming, we have quite the situation on our hands," He said, catching Fig by surprise as the other aurors moved in to try and explain.
"I heard only a small portion. 15? Are we sure?" Fig asked in shock. "A witch or wizard blooming that late is unheard of-,"
"Not entirely," Another auror interjected. "We've had similar cases like this appear before. It seems there is an increase in obscurials, as of late."
"Judging by the damage that's been done, it's safe to say we can't rule an obscurus out."
"Damage? What damage?" Fig cut in quickly.
The three aurors exchanged looks between themselves before nodding at Eleazar to follow them. The girls in the dorms split a path open like the red sea as they breezed through and stopped before what appeared to be a door leading to the latrine. One auror grabbed the handle and swiftly ripped the door open for the professor to see. Eleazar Fig felt his eyes widen considerably and his jaw unhinge. The bathroom was more or less intact, save for the wall opposite of him being leveled to scorched rubble and part of the roof blown off.
"Three girls have been critically injured. We are doing our best to keep the situation contained here and ensure the students don't let word of mouth slip from beyond these walls," An auror explained. "We have our hands full here as we wait on backup from the ministry and reinforcements from Saint Mungos."
"The girl needs to be found, Professor," Another auror urged as he leaned out into the dormitory to check on the situation. "Obscurus or not, she's probably terribly frightened."
"Do we at least know her name?" He spoke in exasperation.
"Winnifred," One auror spoke. "Winnifred Culpepper."
"A Culpepper?" Fig was taken aback and the aurors raised their brows.
"You know them?"
"I have had many Culpeppers as my students. All family in some way..." He furrowed his thick brows in deep thought. "Allow me some time, please, if I am right, this girl may already have some knowledge of the wizarding community. And if so, aurors waving their wands might scare her even more."
"We leave it to you, Professor Fig."
////\\\\
The search felt like it had dragged on for an eternity. Even with the assistance of magic, tracking the young girl's trail proved to be tedious for the older man, and he became increasingly aware of his age with each step he took. At last, he arrived in what appeared to be a small swan lake park.
A light drizzle, courtesy of England's reliable weather, had settled over the quaint little park. There was hardly a person in sight. Fig watched as a mother swan urged her ducklings along the water and under a small cobblestone bridge where he noticed a slight flurry of movement.
Though the years hadn't been kind to his sight, he could make out a pair of leather shoes beneath the bridge...a small figure hugging her knees into herself tightly as she hid from the rain beneath the pedestrian bridge.
He pursed his lips, taking a moment to deliberate, before pocketing his wand and moseying alongside the water.
"My...rather bleak weather we're having today, aren't we?" He spoke loudly and clearly as he approached the girl, keeping his eyes on the murky pond. He could hear the slight gasp and could tell she was flinching away from the sound of his voice alone.
"Never cared much for this kind of weather," He continued, good-natured. "Always so dreadfully boring. My wife, Miriam, loved it. Said it was cozy...she died on a day much like today..." His vice grew more forlorn as he spoke of his late wife.
The girl, who had been listening with bated breath, seemed to all but cripple as she responded to this seemingly...unthreatening old man.
"A-Are you with the ministry?" She stammered, leaning away from him to bolt at the first sign of danger. Fig scoffed and lowered his head, turning to look at the young girl hiding away in the shadow of the bridge.
Such...Honest eyes, he has...She thought to herself. His eyes were such a clear shade of blue, like fresh spring water. She wondered if she looked long enough into those clear blue eyes, might she see his true intentions?
"I am not," He felt a small bit of relief that his suspicions had been confirmed. "Though I do suppose some introductions are in order. I am Eleazar Fig, Professor of Magical Theory at Hogwarts, though I suppose you already know what that is?"
"Hogwarts..." The word was so softly spoken, the old professor wondered if it was just a figment of his imagination.
"And...am I to be led to believe that you are Miss Winnifred Culpepper?"
He was met with a confirmation of silence. Patience, He reminded himself.
"I taught many a Culpepper at Hogwarts over the last decade. All related in one form or another. Would it be too presumptuous of me to assume you are related to my former students?"
"Cousins..." She hugged her knees tighter against her chest. "Are they going to send me to Azkaban?"
Professor Fig balked at the horrific words this child had just uttered and he rapidly shook his head, sputtering out, "Merlin, no! My dear girl, whatever makes you think that?"
"Aren't they dead?" She pitifully answered, flicking a rock over with her shoe. "Those girls? I saw the aurors...I know they are looking for me."
"They aren't going to send you to Azkaban," He said firmly.
"How would you know," She looked up at him with haunting, cold eyes. "You just said you aren't with the ministry. You are a professor of magical theory at Hogwarts."
"In situations like this, the welfare of a child is more important. You did not mean to hurt them, did you?"
"I just..." She hesitated. "I just wanted them to stop..."
"I will say, we have never heard a wizard or witch blooming into their magic this late. But the standard protocol is to fix the school, and the memories, so that this accident never happened," Fig slowly approached her as he spoke. "We will be taking you to Hogwarts, so you can learn to control your magic, and find a proper outlet for it."
Winnie seemed paralyzed with fright, but the warm and coaxing words of the old man seemed to be seeping through her skin. The Professor crouched down in front of the bridge, a few feet away from her as he slowly held his hand out to her.
"You must be brave enough to take on the challenge, patient through the mistakes, wise enough to navigate through the obstacles, and determined to make it your journey. So I ask you, Miss Culpepper, may I escort you into your new adventure?" He had, quite fluently, recited every Hogwarts house's attributes, and as he lay the offer on the table, he now realized he must wait for her answer.
Several eternities seemed to pass when the girl finally moved. She cautiously began to extend her hand toward the elderly man's, and just as her cold fingers grazed his skin, she lightly flinched back.
"It's all right," He reassured her, catching her eyes with his. He only just realized just how green they were, like springtime enveloped in her vision. Her eyes, though they were guarded, began to relax as she slowly slid her hand into his. "Right, then, let's get you up and out of this nasty weather."
He gently urged her out from beneath the cobblestone bridge, the young girl shakily finding her footing as she stepped into the light. At last, she looked up to meet his stare, completely out in the open, and Professor Fig felt his eyes widen in shock as he saw her face.
It wasn't that she was ugly, of course not. She was a pleasant young lass with brilliant, cornsilk blonde hair falling into messy mats and clumps over her shoulders from the weather undoubtedly. She was still childlike in the face, with some roundness to her cheeks, long lashes like a baby doll, and a small, pert nose. She was slim, with thin arms and knobby legs, clad in a plaid skirt and a muddy, white blouse.
What had startled the old man, was that despite her smooth alabaster skin, a horrific scar had ripped across the left side of her face. It was white with age, slightly jagged, and split her cheek from dimple to temple. It was quite hard to miss.
But as the girl stared back at him, Fig knew it was neither appropriate nor the time or place to ask her about such a defect. So instead, he offered her a warm smile.
"Shall we be off?"
"But, to where?" She tilted her head, her eyes still guarded with concern.
"To the countryside. I will write a letter once we get there telling the ministry that I am acting as your ward for the time being to help you get acclimated. Now, I assume you have never apparated before?" The girl responded with a shake of her head. "Well then, hold on tight, m'dear. It can be a bit rocky the first go around."
And with that, the two disappeared in a warped, crack of air.