Chapter Text
1st September 1989
«Miss Penelope, it's time to wake up. » Those are the first words of the day for the eleven-year-old girl. Like every other day, the young lady hid her eyes under the warm cushion. «Miss, wake up. »
Penelope grumbled something about why she had to wake up.
«Today is Miss's first day of school and is running late. »
Just a few seconds to comprehend those sounds and the little girl was jumping out of the bed. She tried to get out of her bedroom ignoring the bad dizziness caused by the sudden movement, bumping into the poor house-elf. «Sorry, Asia! » Penelope screamed, already out of the room.
A great racket from the upper floors suggested that the eldest daughter of the Nott household was awake. After a quick bath, Penelope grabbed the first clothes at hand, ignoring the few suggestions already on her bed, and wore them while descending the stairs, in an attempt to recover those minutes spent complaining in bed. She arrived at the last steps unscathed but found herself lying at the end of the staircase after an unsuccessful effort to tie her shoes while walking. All this was accompanied by the laughter of her little brother Theo.
«Theodore, no yelling at the table. » Mr Nott, sitting on the other end of the counter, scolded the poor child for a laugh out of place because - according to him - during meals silence was to reign.
«Excuse me, father. » Little Theo answered, frowning at the scolding.
«And you, Penelope. » Mr Nott spoke again, «I suppose no one missed your awakening. Every day is the same, if you try to be more careful and avoid running you could spare us this chaos. »
«I’m sorry, dad. »
«Father. It’s your father, young lady, learn how to speak to your elders. » Elisabette reprimanded her, sitting next to Theodore.
«Yes, Grandma ‘am. » It could certainly be said that these continuous reproaches bothered the little girl. Her family seemed lost in their incessant pursuit of perfection which, unfortunately, they had yet to realize did not exist. Despite this, Penelope loved her father, as all children do. The same could not be said of his maternal grandmother.
Penelope lived in the big family manor with her brother Theo, her father, and Grandma 'am. Elisabette wanted to be called that way, in her opinion, no blood bond could give the permit to consider her as Anyone. She was the Lady of the House, an elderly woman and she had to be treated and regarded respectfully. Penelope had been fortunate enough to inherit her name which could now be read next to hers in the magical civil registry. Grandma 'am was always fussing over something: <Anthony, in the name of Merlin! A little education for these poor children. Look how Penelope has begun behaving, with her looks we can only hope for excellent manners. You can’t afford another rebellious phase with Theodore... if only my husband were here. He would have been able to put them in line in less than a day.> was her most repeated speech. Typical woman of many words and no action, it was enough the glance of Mr Nott to stop the continuous leakage of complaints from her mouth.
Penelope and Theo didn’t talk much. Each one was a refugee in their own world and when these clashed the children quarrelled. Rarely they were seen playing happily together, but they were willing to do anything for each other, even if they would never admit it.
Celine Nott, their mother, had died three years after Theodore was born. Having fallen ill after childbirth, her condition only worsened until the woman passed away when her daughter was five years old. Penelope wanted to avoid blaming his brother for her mother’s death, but she just couldn’t. All that was most beautiful to the girl had disappeared because of Theo and had been replaced with Grandma 'am.
Penelope saw Celine as a precious flower born from the concrete. Her memories weren't many, but the child often found herself thinking of her mother’s warm smile, the only one able to lessen her nightmares. Celine had left almost nothing to her daughter, but probably the most beautiful gift she had given her was simply being her mother. Every time Penelope looked in the mirror, she saw the woman smiling at her.
Like any respectable Nott, Penelope had black hair conveniently cut in a short bob. Unlike her ancestors, she did not have brown eyes, not even that rarity of the grey iris that Theo had inherited, the sign of her vile blood lied in her eyes, conveniently turned like her brother's. They were the only thing the girl was allowed to modify.
Her appearance was a delicate matter. Since her early years, Penelope had shown the talent to change her features. In the magic world, some abilities were as rare as powerful, therefore in the past grew the idea of who used them like disgusting creatures. The concept of needing a wand to use magic was insinuated exactly like the thought that those who were able to muster it by natural predisposition without one had some unknown disease, to control them. Metamorphmagus were part of those unlucky wizards and nowadays they were still looked at badly by the most conservative part of the magical world.
Within a couple of years, Mr Nott had to sign a marriage contract for his firstborn to maintain the pure bloodline. He aimed to tie with a family as powerful as his, but Penelope wasn't someone who caught others' eyes, she was not a particularly pretty child and his only hope was that she will grow into something similar to her beautiful mother. Mr Nott was worried because he himself would search for a stunning woman for his son when the time would come, a lovely girl who could give her husband what he wanted. Penelope was well educated and a smart kid. She understood her position and he was certain that growing up she will behave like the perfect partner. The problem was now, if not healthy at least a pretty girl would be better in other eyes and he had to compete with the Greengrass and their two cute daughters, also the Abbotts' could be a threat, the Parkinsons'...
<So many daughters and so few boys.> Penelope heard his father distress late at night. The girl didn't want to be a disappointment but, even if she could, she wasn't allowed to change her appearance and all of this frustrated her. She wanted to bring honour to her family and always tried very hard to follow her preceptor's lessons but she didn't understand. If she had studied so hard and behaved perfectly, why wasn't that enough? Why she had to eat more to look healthier? Why she had to walk with her back awkwardly still? Why was it a problem if she was too tall for her age? She had to learn to always smile with her mouth closed and it was difficult when she was just too happy. Why was she harshly scolded when she had tried to make the little gap in her front teeth disappear? That was another problem, Penelope's blood was coursed and she had to hide those abilities.
«Penelope, we leave in fifteen minutes. » Mr Nott spoke again.
«Your father will be waiting for you at the doorway, and go right now to fix yourself up. A Nott can’t just show up on the first day in Hogwarts like that. » Grandma 'am was referring to the creased summer dress worn in a hurry and the hair forced into two messy braids.
As she climbed the stairs, Penelope tried to ignore the loud complaint.
She headed to her bedroom. She wore a skirt and blouse, as she was supposed to. Then a thought struck her head: at Hogwarts, there would be no one to tell her how to dress, how to behave, how to eat, how to talk, how to walk. So, suddenly, that departure, initially painful, showed its good side.
The child had been educated as a respectable Pureblood, raised as Miss Nott. In Hogwarts, she would have been simply Penelope, the clumsy little girl with her head always in the clouds.
The child had a sad moment of happiness. She began to look for all the things most dear to her, initially destined to remain in her bedroom, hidden to prevent the elves from finding them and throwing them away by order of her grandmother. She threw dozens of books from the library, searched the closet, and collected various things under the mattress. She took them all and tossed them into the trunk which was strangely closed with ease. Penelope sat down on the ground, breathing a satisfied sigh. She knew it wasn’t good to feel those emotions, but she couldn’t help it.
She glanced at the room and panicked. The floor of the room was almost totally hidden by the most varied qualities of objects. «I can’t leave the room so messy, and if...? » She thought out loud.
Penelope didn’t want her house-elf to struggle and even less wanted her father to yell at her for not ordering. She began to put everything in the closet, managing to close it only after several attempts, assuming that the next to open it would be faced with a big problem.
All this because Miss Nott recently has abandoned the typical noble witch behaviour. Her mother had made sure that she did not become too much invested in the kind of prejudices that, instead, for his father and grandmother were fundamental for her education. <The name doesn’t make the person>, that’s what Celine used to tell her.
Her father had started to criticize her new behaviour, which changed from a well-educated performance to something he couldn't completely approve of or, at least, to be confined within the walls of the manor. Penelope was just starting to realize that the rare praises from her relatives weren't enough to recompense for the lack of fun. The girl knew that soon she would be too old to enjoy the perks of being a child and she wanted to use that time as its best. Thus, she spent the last summer before Hogwarts making the most of that huge garden that her house had. Therefore, she would play outdoor, smearing and soiling herself like any worthy child lost in the depths of their imagination. She also began to study in the open air and not locked up in the manor library. Moreover, she preferred to wear comfy clothes and did not understand why her grandmother continued to impose those elegant witch clothes on her even when they had no guests.
However, her most hated imposition was the use of that formal language so common in the manor that sometimes she would feel this invisible wall appear between her and the person she was talking to, and that can be sad, if not painful, when used with people you love like your family.
Penelope struggled down the stairs because of the heavy trunk she carried. Mr Nott noticed it immediately and hurried to take the child’s luggage with a levitation spell. «You have a house-elf for that, Penelope. How many times do I have to tell you? »
Once at the gate and ready to leave, Penelope hugged Theodore, she would have missed him after all. The kid almost cried at his sister’s departure.
«See you again at Christmas Grandma 'am. » Penelope farewell cordially.
«I hope so, and woe betides you if I will find you grown wild. I feel sick just thinking about the scum you will meet. » Elisabette returned inside the manor followed by Theo, grumbling about how at Beauxbaton her granddaughter would have received a better education. Years had passed since she left France and, after allowing her daughter to attend Hogwarts, Elisabette began to feel increasingly detached from her new family there in England. However, Celine had always done everything she could to keep that part of herself alive, proceeding to teach French to her children. Instruction that was continued by Elisabette after her death.
Once on platform 9 and ¾, Penelope felt her heart burst with euphoria. The hooting of the different owls came from every corner, followed by laughter and happy screaming. There were kids of all ages going back and forth in search of friends or relatives lost in that turmoil of wizards and witches. From time to time a puff of white smoke came out of the locomotive in contrast with the magnificent scarlet that instead covered its surface. The girl jumped excited, and then the light tug of her hand, held by Mr Nott, brought her back into line.
The man accompanied Penelope near the first still empty wagon that they found and lowered to offer her daughter her trunk. Penelope then went forward to hug him, the initial happiness turned into anxiety. Mr Nott faltered, not accustomed to that sudden exchange of affection from his daughter.
«I’ll miss you da... I’ll miss you father. »The little girl squeezed her arms around the man’s shoulders.
Anthony felt a part of his heart softening. «I’ll miss you too. » Mr Nott answered hugging her back.
Penelope walked away from her father happy for having managed to get those human feelings always well hidden by him. While thinking about it, she did not see the little boy running in her opposite direction and they inevitably clashed. Penelope fell to the ground and groaned in pain.
«Oh, Merlin! ’m sorry, didn’t see you. Are you hurt? » The young boy was left standing and approached her immediately.
«... no, I’m fine. » Penelope rubbed her head to lessen the pain. When she was able to look up, she found herself facing a child about her age, a little shorter than her and with his freckled face twisted in worry. «I’ll try to be more careful next time, but I am just so scattered. » Penelope apologized, grabbing the hand the boy offered to help her get up.
«No way, I was running not looking where I was going, my fault. » After a moment of embarrassing silence that made Penelope blush, the boy began to speak again: «Anyway, I am Fred! »
Penelope blinked, not accustomed to that type of introduction. «Is yours the nickname for Frederick? »
«Absolutely not! » Fred gasped. «Well... maybe? Just please don't call me that but yeah, my name is Frederick Weasley. »
«It's a pretty name. » The little girl smiled. «I'm Penelope-»
«GEORGE! For God’s sake, come here! » To interrupt the kids was the cry of a middle-aged woman who was marching towards them visibly angry.
«Shit! I have to go. Sorry again, I’ll see you around. » Fred was already far enough away to have to scream the last words to be heard by the girl.
Penelope was flabbergasted by the use of that rude language by the guy, a boy of her young age!
After that meeting, Penelope was helped by a nice senior to put her trunk on the train and place it on the rack of an empty compartment. She thanked her warmly and, once she had gone out, she snuggled in the corner by the window, put on her glasses, and immersed herself in reading a book she had previously taken.
Shortly after the train departure, someone knocked and entered the compartment. «Can we stay here? The train... » The kid just entered stopped in the middle of the sentence. He carefully observed the only presence in the cabin quickly taking off her glasses to hide them behind her back. The boy was stunned by Penelope who stared curiously at him. That kid was similar to the one she had met just before: the same brown eyes, an identical crooked smile rippling his face, and the same messy red hair. But there was something different that she couldn’t say.
Penelope watched him carefully. «You’re not Fred, are you? » She asked for safety.
The little boy seemed taken aback by those words. However, he preferred to put aside several questions - including why that girl knew his brother - in order to take advantage of that situation at best like they always do. «Pff, of course I’m Fred! C'mon, don’t you recognize me? » He asked, looking forward to the perfect prank.
Penelope looked at him, confused. «No, I don’t recognize you. The Frederick... » She waited a moment to see his reaction, then looked at him with superiority and continued. «... of a while ago would have made all the worst grimaces hearing me call him that. » She smiled, satisfied. Penelope could have sworn to see him wavering for a moment.
«I'm telling you that I am Fred. » The boy did not give in. «And I will prove it to you. But first, can I and my brother stay here? »
«Of course, to see this pathetic prank sink I would do even more. » Penelope smirked and made herself comfortable. She couldn’t stand that kid, who did he think he was? She wasn’t an idiot, she could tell the difference between Fred and that guy, why go on with that charade?
«George! I found one. » He screamed out of the compartment. Fred caught up with his brother, understanding his intentions on the fly, but once in the cabin, he was surprised to see the victim of their next prank. Nevertheless, he smiled and sat down. Penelope watched them closely and did not escape to her how they both wore pants too short and matted sweaters that had surely seen better days. Their appearance contrasted with the little girl's one who was showing off her brand-new uniform. The two certainly resembled each other, but Penelope was reluctant to give up her suspicions and tried to not miss any movement. She was pretty sure the kid who just walked in was Fred and the other one was supposed to be his twin brother George.
«Meet George, he’s my brother. » The False Fred explained.
«And you are…? » The True Fred asked angelically.
Penelope smiled. She had them. «George, why don’t you ask your brother? He should know who I am. Our parents introduced us not long ago, did you know that they are work colleagues? » The little girl could not deny that she had never heard their name, her father let it slip away from time to time at home, but that story was completely made-up. There were two reasons: first, to end the stupid farce; and then, to test the intelligence of those two, who showed more stubbornness than cunning. The brothers exchanged a casual look, but Penelope noticed the pleading for help from False Fred, while True Fred tried to inform his brother of the ambush. The little girl tried not to laugh.
«Well... y' know. Introductions are quick, and I never pay much attention. I’m sure it happens to you too, my memory just... » False Fred made the sound of an explosion instead of ending the sentence.
True Fred hit his forehead with both hands.
«What’s wrong, George? Are you surprised that our parents are friends? » The False Fred asked amused, assuming that his brother’s reaction was due to the part he played.
«Oh no. » The True Fred blew a heavy sigh. «Nothing, forget it. I am Fred and he... he is my brother, George. »
«Why did you tell her? »
«Come on! She was onto us and invented everything because-»
«Because» Penelope interrupted him. «I knew from the beginning that you weren't Frederick. » She turned to False Fred.
«I just told you to not call me that... really, please. » True Fred begged.
«All right, Frederick. » Penelope was pleased to see him upset at her wording.
«So, you are...? » Fake Fred solicited her.
«Penelope Nott. » The child replied proudly.
The kids squinted their eyes and then began to whisper to each other. «A Nott? What were you thinking?! You could have told me! »
«I didn’t hear it right before; mom was after me! And you know how she is when she gets angry. »
«Dear Merlin, Fred! Didn’t you think she was one?! Look at her! She's identical to the photo of dad’s prints. »
«And so, what? »
«Excuse me? I’m still here. » Penelope was visibly annoyed by their behaviour, especially by False Fred. Stupid prejudices, why do you defile the world? she thought.
«Sorry but, just to be sure... » George turned to her. «Your family is composed of not-so-good people, right? »
Penelope hoped to have misunderstood. «Pardon? »
«You know... your family like ours is a pureblood. » Fred began to explain.
«With the subtle difference that the Weasleys are called traitors to their blood now by people like you who years ago were accused of following You-Know-Who. » George continued guided by the innocent thoughts of a child.
Penelope gasped at the sound of that name. How could this kid talk about that horrible criminal so easily, when that part of history was still so new? How dare they accuse her family like that? «Exactly, years ago. » The girl was enraged. There was certainly little talk at home about it, but Anthony seemed to regret what he had done during the war. «This doesn't mean that for stupid mistakes made by a man in war one must despise his whole family! » With that the girl concluded the discussion, bringing her eyes to the moving fields out the window.
George nodded too strongly. «Of course, let me guess... you’re obsessed with pure blood, huh? And I bet your family’s been in Slytherin for generations, like everyone else... » Fred put his hand on his arm to stop him before it was too late.
«It doesn’t mean anything! » She yelled. If only Grandma 'am have heard her. Penelope puffed. It was the first time she was spoken so rudely, about her family nonetheless and Penelope was left a little flabbergast not knowing how to react. The girl really thought that her family name would mean something at school, but she had never imagined a situation similar to this. It seemed like these boys were looking down on her simply for her name, but that couldn't be, right? They must have been envious or something along those lines. She took a deep breath. She just couldn’t let those two frightfully annoying Weasleys get her to lose her cool. «If it comes to that, I’m sure your family has belonged to the same House for generations too, but I don’t mind. » She continued resolutely.
«Of course, but Gryffindor is the best House. » Fred said.
Gryffindor... of course. «I doubt it and if you come to be part of it, I will be certain of it. » She glared at them before turning again at the landscape.
«Oh yes, eh? » It was George who spoke. «If instead, you will happen in Gryffindor? You will drown yourself in the Black Lake for fear of being disinherited? » He asked with irony.
«If I’ll come to Gryffindor, which I'm sure will never happen, I would drown myself in despair of being part of your same House. » The girl tried again to close the conversation.
«What a temper. Yes, Slytherin, absolutely... What’s behind your back? » George moved a little further forward changing the subject.
«None of your business. » How irritating for Merlin!
«Come on! Show us. » That said, Fred took the glasses from her hands, putting them on. «Morgana’s pants! You’re blind! »
«Look at that. Even four-eyes our little friend. » George piled it on.
At these last words, Penelope put aside her attempt to get the glasses back from Fred who was still playing with them. «Friend?! Weasley, maybe we misunderstood each other... go call friend some other person who has the misfortune to find you likeable! Which, thanks to Merlin, didn’t happen to me. »
«Well, that's very articulate, right, Georgie? »
«I was thinking that too, Freddie. »
Penelope wrinkled her nose in annoyance, returning to observe the landscape, ignoring the presence of foreign lenses on the face of a twin.
«Do you use the tactics of silence? » Fred asked, but he received no answer.
«Is that how you were taught at home? To ignore anyone who is not like you? » With that George had succeeded in ending the patience of Penelope who, having very little of it, was surprised to have lasted so long in their presence.
«You know what, you’ve crossed a line. You can continue to speak evil of others; you will see how successful you'll be in your life. But know that until then I’d like to stay away from it. » Penelope couldn't avoid thinking about the reaction her father would have done hearing those words directed at himself.
«Good! » George exclaimed.
«Excellent! »
«Fantastic! » The redhead concluded, every letter like venom. After exchanging a murderous glance, Penelope and George resumed their activities, ignoring each other’s existence. The first reading, although with some difficulty, the second having fun with his brother.
Once arrived at the station, Penelope got off the train without bothering to take a look at the two Weasleys, just enough time to rip a property of her from Fred’s face.
The bad mood left her as soon as she stepped off the train. For a few moments, she found herself lost, then the scream <First years!> reached her ears. The man calling them was so big that enchanted her. She had never seen anything like him.
Along with the others of her age, Penelope reached the shores of a lake. She got on a little boat with two other girls and all three of them let out a shriek at its sudden movement. It was simple like that, looking up from the fearsome gloomy water, Penelope found herself in front of the most beautiful view of her life. The brightness of the lanterns reflected on the dark surface of the lake creating an unforgettable show of light.
And then there was the Castle. Surely her father had diminished it. Hogwarts was something magnificent, with its great stairs and the electricity in the air. The paintings were all greeting them. The Castle had that welcoming atmosphere that Penelope had never been lucky enough to feel at the manor. Entering the Great Hall for the first time was thrilling, it had been one of her greatest dreams since she remembered. Unfortunately, once the sorting started, all these emotions were quickly replaced by anxiety.
Soon the two Weasleys were called.
«Weasley Frederick. » Said the vice principal. Fred grimaced and Penelope couldn't avoid grinning. After a few seconds, the Hat was on his head, it exclaimed: «GRYFFINDOR! »
Obvious.
«Weasley George. » He was called. After a few seconds... «GRYFFINDOR. »
She saw that coming.
A few more names passed before she heard hers. «Nott Penelope. » The little girl stumbled and the vice principal put the Talking Hat on her head.
<Interesting, that mind of yours. I see loyalty to friends and relatives, but patience and fairness are not exactly what I notice most in you, with this I could exclude Hufflepuff...> The Talking Hat was whispering in her ear.
<You are also a girl of great talent and creativity, you seek knowledge. Excellent qualities for Ravenclaw. But you don’t accept being contradicted, this leads us to the stubbornness that is very common among Gryffindors...> The girl began to worry, she didn't want to go to that House, or else she risked meeting those Weasleys.
<Weasley? Yes, as I recall, I have sorted them all among the nobles of heart. Notwithstanding other students, Gryffindor would help you to become a great witch, you have many qualities worthy of a Gryffindor: audacity, nobleness of mind...> As the Hat began to recall the various virtues of the braves of heart, the little girl grumbled. <Impatient, I notice. I will content you. Ambition and cunning certainly do not lack in you, perhaps it would be better...>
«SLYTHERIN! » Shouted the Hat. Penelope happily approached her table looking down at two certain redheads sitting at the Gryffindor one.