Chapter Text
Julie Barlowe wouldn't call herself a "fortunate" person, exactly. In her childhood, she might have said that. Her parents, Ann and Robert, had both served in World War II — Ann, of course, had only been a nurse and not a soldier, but even so — and it meant that growing up, Julie never wanted for stories. Her parents had always had an immense level of trust in all three of their children. When the eldest, Jennie, moved up from California to Washington State for a job, they were nothing but supportive. When the youngest, Laurie, married a man and moved across the country to New York, they smiled as they walked her down the aisle at her wedding. And when Julie went to the United Kingdom to study medicine, only to fall in love and move there permanently, her parents supported her every step of the way.
But this is not a story about Julie’s parents. After all, they were still happily retired in California, and as time had gone by, Julie had learned to live independently of them. Just a month after living in the United Kingdom, she met a young man, and the two fell in love. He showered her in affection, tended to her every need. After just a few months more, Julie got pregnant, and the two moved in together.
Jacqueline Barlowe. Or “Quinn”, as Julie took to calling her. She was the apple of both her parents’ eyes. They never got married. They never got the chance. For you see, when Quinn was but a toddler, her father went out… and he never came back.
Julie had no time for tears. She never did. She finished the preclinical phase at Newcastle University and got into an accelerated nursing program. No, it wasn’t the same as being a doctor, but that would have taken another two years at least, and being a nurse paid the bills, if nothing else. It was enough to pay for a small flat in Newcastle-Upon-Tyne, but nothing more. It would have been enough space if it were Julie alone, but children often required more space than one could afford. Her family would have been eager to help, Julie was sure, but they all lived thousands of miles away in America. Plus, being an on-call nurse while raising a child all on her own had its downsides, certainly.
Having said that, Julie quite liked her life. She liked the way she could hear goldfinches outside the window every morning. She had grown accustomed to the taste of tea after almost 12 years living in the United Kingdom. She loved Quinn, more than anything else in the world. She loved the way her accent was a mix of Julie's native Californian and the Geordie accent of her peers.
It wasn't an easy life, no. But Julie wouldn't change it for the world.
The letter arrived Tuesday afternoon.
Quinn was walking home from her preparatory school, her head tilted up to gaze at the sky. Her golden-blonde hair hung down her back like a mane. The sky in Newcastle-Upon-Tyne was rather boring, but perhaps that is why Quinn liked it so much. It was soothing, seeing the endless expanse of grey. The strangest thing was, the grey on that Tuesday afternoon had a small speck of brown in it. A bird. No matter; birds were quite common in the sky, Quinn had learned. The thing was, this particular bird looked almost like an owl. That was ridiculous, of course — Quinn knew that owls only came out at night. And yet, that wasn’t even the strangest thing. The bird seemed to be carrying something in its talons, although what it was, Quinn was unable to make out.
A grating screech. The object plummeted down from the bird’s talons and landed with a loud smack on the ground at Quinn’s feet. She hesitated for a moment before picking it up. It was an envelope, thick and heavy. On the back was calligraphy-style writing, seemingly carved into the yellowish parchment with emerald-green ink.
Miss J. Barlowe
The First Bedroom on the Right
13 Southway
Denton
Newcastle-Upon-Tyne
Quinn blinked. “J. Barlowe”. Why on Earth was a bird carrying a letter addressed to her mother? Actually… no, wait. “The First Bedroom on the Right”. That wasn’t her mother. That was Quinn. Quinn had the first bedroom on the right. Julie had the second bedroom.
Quinn was, to put it mildly, bewildered. She had never seen a letter this ornate before, much less one addressed to her. Before she knew what was happening, she was running to her front door as fast as her legs could carry her.
“Goodness, Jacqueline, what are you in such a rush for?” a voice called out. Quinn snapped her head to see Mr. Bushwick, her neighbor to the left, staring at her with a quizzical expression as he watered his peonies. Eli Bushwick was an aging, portly man, and he was possibly senile, but he would always bring the Barlowes flowers from his garden. Quinn liked him.
“Nothing, Mr. Bushwick!” Quinn called back, rushing past his fence.
He shrugged and went back to watering his peonies. It was admirable, really; Bushwick was dousing his plants with water more often than not, yet his peonies refused to be any colour but a withered brown.
Quinn ran into her apartment and closed the door behind her, breathing heavily. The envelope felt like it weighed a kilogramme in her grasp. With shaky hands, she tore the envelope open. It felt wrong, somehow, like this was too fancy for her to touch. But it was addressed to her, wasn’t it?
To: Miss Jaqueline Barlowe
Apartment 16
13 Southway
Newcastle upon Tyne, England
Dear Miss Barlowe,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Students shall be required to report to the Chamber of Reception upon arrival, the dates for which shall be duly advised.
Please find an enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins September 1st. We await your owl no later than July 31st. To avoid detection by Muggles, please use the entrance located at King’s Cross Station Downtown, London, on Platform 9 ¾.
We very much look forward to receiving you as part of the newest generation of Hogwarts’ heritage.
Yours Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Quinn read the letter over. And then read it again. And then once more. “Hogwarts”? “Witchcraft”? “Muggle”? “9 ¾”? “SINCERELY”? It made no sense.
She was still sitting on the couch, two hours later, when her mother came home from work.
“Quinn?” Julie called out. “How was your day?”
“It was fine.”
“Did you do your homework?”
“Yes.”
Julie raised an eyebrow.
Quinn blinked. “Well, okay, I didn’t do all of it. Or most of it. Or… some of it. But I thought about doing it!”
“Quinn, you need to do your—”
“I prefer a different approach to learning, Mum. I prefer osmosis,” Quinn said, puffing her chest out.
“Oh, really? What is osmosis?”
Quinn’s face went blank. “Uhm. It’s a… special time in a boy’s life—”
“Mhm.” A small smile ghosted across Julie’s face. “You’d know what it was if you did your homework.”
Quinn threw back her head and groaned loudly. “Whyyyy do I need to know this sort of thing? What good did biology ever do anyone?”
Julie gestured to her nurse’s scrubs silently. Quinn rolled her eyes and looked back to the letter.
Oh, yeah. The letter.
“Mum!” Quinn leapt to her feet, waving the letter around. “I got a letter!”
Julie grinned, taking the parchment from her daughter’s hand. “A letter, really? You must have a fan,” she joked. The smile slid off her face as she read the letter. “What on Earth… what is this?”
“I think I’ve been invited to a school, Mummy!”
“Yes, well, it…” Julie trailed off. “That’s certainly what it looks like…” Her eyes darted back and forth as she read the page, sitting down on the couch, the lines on her face deepening. “This has to be a prank. Or maybe it’s for the wrong address. Or something.”
Quinn climbed onto the couch next to her mother. “But mum, look. It has my name on it,” she said, pointing.
Julie gave her daughter an uneasy smile. “Yes. Yes, it does,” she mused. “Will you, uh…will you give me a second—”
She was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. It was aggressive, as if the person on the other end was trying to break it down.
“Jesus Christ, hold on!” she called out.
“Yeah, Jesus Christ!” Quinn echoed.
“Quinn, not now.”
Julie swung the door open. On the other side was a tall, dark-skinned woman with thin cheeks and eyes that tilted slightly upward. She was dressed in an outfit that didn’t look like it belonged within ten miles of Southway. It was a smooth warm olive-toned ochre dress with long sleeves and a high sharp neckline. It appeared to be made of velvet, but shifted into dozens of layers of a thin, organza-like material at the bottom, cut into the shapes of teardrops. Constellation patterns swirled up the dress, embroidered with fabric so bright it almost seemed to glow. Most oddly, her hair was woven into a number of intricate fulani braids, with star patterns visible in the braids against her scalp. “May I help you?” Julie asked.
“Julie Ann Barlowe?” the woman said, her deep voice rumbling. “My name is Aurora Sinistra. We need to have a talk about your daughter. May I come in?”
Julie and Quinn stared blankly at the woman sitting across from them on the couch, sagely sipping a cup of tea.
“...I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
Aurora looked up at Julie. “Which part?”
“The part with the… wizards, I suppose.”
“So… all of it?”
“Well—”
Aurora sighed a bit, straightening up in her seat. “Your daughter is a—”
“Witch, yes, I know. You’ve said that already,” Julie mumbled, massaging her temples. “This is a joke, isn’t it? Remy put you up to this. Or Nadia. I bet it was Nadia.”
Aurora tilted her head to the side. “I don’t know anyone named Nadia.”
Julie stood up with a huff. “Look, Miss Sinister, I don’t know who put you up to this, but I just got off of a very long shift at the hospital and I’m not in the mood for jokes—”
“It’s not a joke,” Aurora interrupted, sounding quite finished with litigating this.
A few moments passed. Julie sat back down on the couch with a heavy sigh. “So, what? You really expect me to believe that you’re a witch, that my DAUGHTER is also a witch, and you’re taking her off to witch school?”
Aurora did not respond right away. Instead, she reached into her sleeve and pulled out a slim baton. It was made of a dark, chestnut-hued wood, with a small sphere encased in tinted glass adorning the hilt and small stars carved into the sides. Aurora extended her arm, made a spiral motion, and said in a crisp voice, “Caerea ignis.”
No sooner had the final syllable left her lips than a bolt of cold blue flame erupted from the tip of the baton, flying over Quinn’s head and curling into the shape of a falcon before dissolving. Sinistra slid the baton back up her sleeve and gave Julie a soft smile. “Do you still think this is a practical joke, Ms. Barlowe?”
Julie had no answer.
“Whoa…” Quinn gasped, her eyes starry.
“Yes, thank you, Jacqueline,” Aurora said, smoothing out her sleeve.
“Quinn, actually,” Quinn said. She crossed her arms and stuck her chin out defiantly.
Aurora nodded. “Of course. My mistake. Quinn.”
“Uhm, excuse me,” Julie butted in. “What was that?”
“Bluebell flames. It’s a special sort of fire that can’t be extinguished by water.”
“Ooh, is that a spell?” Quinn asked, the stars back in her eyes. “I want to learn how to cast blue ball flames.”
“No, it’s not called—” Julie cleared her throat. “Never mind. So, let me get this straight: my daughter is a witch.”
“Yes.”
“And you are also a witch.”
“Yes.”
“And you want to take her away to go to witch school.”
“Yes, that is correct.”
Julie opened her mouth to respond. No sound came out. She closed it. Then she opened it again. This repeated a few times as she processed what Aurora was saying. “I hope you understand how ridiculous this sounds.”
Aurora nodded. “Yes, I’m aware. This isn’t my first time speaking with Muggles.”
Quinn frowned, then looked at the letter again. “Muggles…” she repeated. “That was in the letter. What does that mean?”
“Oh, yes. That’s right. ‘Muggle’ means ‘non-magic folk’, like your mother. Although, in some places, they have different names. For example, in America…” She tried and failed to keep her lip from curling a bit in distaste. “They’re called ‘no-maj’s.”
“That’s a stupid name,” Quinn said.
“Yes, well, they’re American,” Aurora replied smoothly.
Julie cleared her throat.
“Oh. My apologies, ma’am.”
“This is…” With another beleaguered sigh, Julie picked up the letter, looked it up and down, then let it fall to her side. “So… I’m sending my daughter away. To live in a secret otherworld filled with… I don’t know, fairies and hobbits or something.”
Aurora shrugged. “Not quite, Ms. Barlowe. It’s a boarding school. She would go for the school year, and come home on holidays and over the summer.” She then stiffened up a bit, her lips pursing into a thin line. “Also, hobbits don’t exist. That would be ridiculous.”
“Oh, of course, because that would be a bridge too far,” Julie muttered, so quietly that Quinn could barely hear her.
“Excuse me?” Aurora asked, her eyebrow raising.
“Nothing,” Julie replied quickly.
Quinn shuffled a bit closer to Julie, picking the letter up. “So. Do you work at this school?” she asked Aurora.
“Yes,” Aurora nodded. “As a matter of fact, I teach astronomy. Usually, there are people assigned to go to muggle-born students’ houses to explain everything, but we’re understaffed this year, so… I’ve taken up the burden.” She paused and looked down at her drink. “Though I must say, this tea has made it at least partially worthwhile.
“Whoa… astronomy? Like the zodiac?” Quinn beamed. “I’m an Aries.”
The corners of Aurora’s lips quirked upward in a small grin. “Not quite. That’s astrology. Astronomy is the study of planets and celestial bodies. I believe muggles study it too.” Her gaze shifted to Julie. “Of course, they focus on somewhat different aspects than us.”
Julie had no response. What could she possibly say? It was, frankly, too much information to take in all at once.
“Do you need a moment, Ms. Barlowe?” Aurora asked in a soft voice.
Julie exhaled in a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “A moment? Do I need a moment? I need about ten THOUSAND moments, Ms. Sinister.”
“Sinistra—”
“So… what happens if I don’t send Quinn to this place… what is it called again?”
“Hogwarts,” Aurora answered smoothly.
Hogwarts. Julie turned the word over in her mouth a few times. Hogwarts. What a foul name. “What if I decide not to send Quinn to ‘Hogwarts’?”
Quinn gave her mother a look that could kill a large hippo. If Julie noticed, she pretended not to, keeping her eyes fixed on Aurora.
Aurora shrugged a shoulder, picking up her mug and taking a sip of tea. “You don’t have to. If you don’t buy your materials and don’t send a letter confirming her attendance by August, we’ll have some Ministry officials come by and Obliviate you, and we’ll pretend this entire thing never happened.” She took a pause, then stared deeply at Julie through the gaps in her veil. “Though I would not advise that. The last thing you need is for your daughter to become an Obscurial. Also, don't try to become a whistleblower. It won't work. Trust me, our people work far faster than yours.”
Ministry. Obliviate. Obscurial. There were so many words that neither Julie nor Quinn had ever heard of. The bags under Julie’s eyes were deepening by the second, while Quinn looked so excited that she was about to explode.
“Well… I mean, no offence, but how do I even know that you’re telling the truth about all of this?” Julie asked.
Aurora raised an eyebrow yet again and pulled out her wand.
“NO.” Julie held both of her hands up. “Not the spells or anything. No, I meant… I meant the magic school stuff.”
Quinn raised a hand up. “I, for one, am willing to believe her,” she said in a small voice.
Aurora let out a deep sigh. “Look. We could be here all day, and I’m still not sure how I will be able to convince you. But…” She pulled out a small pamphlet and handed it to Julie. “This will tell you everything you need to know about being prepared for the school year. It has store locations, information on the school itself, everything you need to know.” She stood up and began to walk to the door.
“Wh— wait! You’re just going to leave?” Julie said. “You’re just… going to trust that I’m doing all of this?”
Aurora turned back to her with a soft smile. “Yes. I trust you, Julie.” With a loud CRACK and a flash of light, she vanished, leaving Julie and Quinn standing in the living room in silence.
“...Mum?” Quinn said.
“Yes, dear?”
“What’s for dinner?”