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Chapter Text

CHAPTER 1

If you’d asked those who’d known Cassiopeia Melania Abbot since she was an infant, they would all tell you the exact same story: She was the picture-perfect child that all parents wished was their own. And for the lovely 11 years of her existence, she had tried her hardest to maintain this standard, with as much dignity as was reasonable for a child of her age, and height, to possess. She lived in the beautifully kept house of Number 13 Blackthorn Place, London, with her parents Mr and Mrs Abbot, and her little sister, Abagail.

Joseph Delaney Abbot was the perfect example of a politician, having worked his way up to Head of Department at his fancy corporate job – Cassiopeia wasn’t exactly sure what he did, but according to her mother, it meant that she was able to eat Lucky Charms for breakfast, and that was good enough. Celeste Kendra Abbot was a class-A type of stay-at-home mother. She made Cassiopeia breakfast in the mornings, and snacks when she got back from school – she was magical like that. Once, Cassiopeia had asked her mother why she seemed so magical, but she had only laughed – quite a magical laugh, if you ask Cassiopeia – and said, “One day, you might grow to be just as magical as me, if not more!” Before she had tackled her daughter to the ground in a fit of giggles.

Cassiopeia had thought that day would never come. For years she’d tried to use magic, staring at her math homework for hours, waiting for it to answer itself. She’d tried it on the dishes as well, thinking that if they would just clean themselves, then she would be able to watch another episode of My Little Pony.
It never worked, but Cassiopeia never lost hope, and every night, her mother made sure to fuel her daughter’s passion (against the wishes of her husband). She would bless her daughter with tales of a magical school designed for teaching young witches and wizards how to use their magic, beautiful horse-like creatures that blessed the sky, and giant toads that lurked in the swampy forest near their home. Teacher’s begun complaining when these creatures appeared in their classes, saying a blue snake-like creature in her drawings was making other kids cry, but Celeste never paid them any heed. She knew what she was preparing her eldest daughter for, and she knew these teachers didn’t truly understand her daughter’s brilliant mind.

It was only sometime after she turned 10, that Cassiopeia began to lose heart. Her mother had spoken of these wonders to her for many years now, but nothing ever seemed to change. Her school stayed the same, there never seemed to be giant frogs in the forest, or horses in the sky, or fluffy snakes in the attic. All that remained was their family of four, forever. She never mentioned this to her mother – she’d seemed too sad recently, too out of it, and Cassiopeia didn’t want to be another worry.

But then it happened. It had been a Friday, and Cassiopeia had already had a miserable day at school. For the first time, her teacher had pulled her to the side and asked why no peculiar creatures had graced her drawings that day, instead replaced by a terribly grim row of buildings, labelled as 12. Cassiopeia had only been able to shrug her shoulders and answer, “I didn’t see the point in it, when clearly those creatures don’t exist. So why should I waste my time thinking of things that will never show themselves?”
Her teacher had frowned – not a first, and not uncommon, but there was something different about this one, “What’s caused you to abandon your imagination, my dear? You’re too young to be worrying about the boring reality of our world.” Cassiopeia hadn’t been able to bring herself to answer. How was she to explain to her teacher that her sadness was simply caused by the lack of fun in the world where her mother’s creations didn’t exist? Ms Jane would only laugh and call her silly, before showing her a book on unicorns or some other fairytale. So, she’d sat there silently, with her building, and coloured in the lives of numbers 10, 12, and 14. Happy families laughing at dinner, and children playing with their toys. Adults dancing in their living rooms, and– and… Cassiopeia didn’t know what to put in number 12. She narrowed her eyes at the emptiness sitting behind the wonky window frames. She tried to draw two little boys, with curly, raven black hair, but it was all wrong. She could feel her eyes begin to burn as she scribbled over their figures, creating an ugly mess in the middle of her art. Her lip started trembling as she looked around the classroom, seeing all her friends happily playing with the Legos in the far corner. She wanted to join them, she really did, but she also wanted to curl up in a dark corner and let her tears fall away from the prying eyes of Miss Jane.

Her gaze dropped back to her drawing as a singular tear fell onto the window with the two boys, completely blurring all the lines from the scribbles into one blob. She tilted her head, watching the water soak into the paper as the lead lost its composure and broke down. She grabbed her sleeve, to wipe away the water, and gaped at the smear of grey it left in its ruin, completely ruining her drawing, and erasing any sign of the two boys. In her frustration, she ripped the paper from her notebook and smashed it into a ball, shoving it into the depths of her coat pockets as Miss Jane finally called them to get ready to go home. She’d stormed out of the classroom and slouched next to her mother as they were dismissed. Celeste had thrown her concerned looks all the way home, but Cassiopeia had not bothered to answer any of her questions, instead choosing to focus on the patterns of the raindrops outside her window, each falling droplet so similar to the ones that streaked her face.

“Cassiopeia, please talk to me, what’s the matter? I know I didn’t send you to school like this! Did something happen with your friends, with Miss Jane?”

Cassiopeia recrossed her arms, the only sign of her blatant refusal to acknowledge her mother’s presence. But she could practically hear the cogs turning in her mother’s mind, and had no time to react before she felt the car pull over on the side of the road.

“Cassiopeia, look at me please,” Celeste pleaded, her face flooding with sympathy as she saw the tears in her daughter’s eyes, “Oh my dear, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Cassiopeia’s gaze fell from her mother’s searching eyes, instead choosing to study her fingers as her mother tried to wipe away her tears. “You lied to me,” she whispered, trying to keep her tone steady.

“I lied? My love, I would never lie to you, never. What on Earth to you think I lied about?”

“Everything! All the magic! The school, the night-time cows, and the invisible sloths on two legs, and the pretty orange birds! It’s all fake!”

Celeste paused, taking her words in with a heavy sadness, “Did someone… tell you it was fake?”

Cassiopeia’s fists curled into little balls on her lap, “No one had to tell me it was fake, mom! All I have to do is look around and– and I’ll find nothing. Because there is nothing to find.”

Celeste’s eyes shifted back to the road, tension running through her jaw, before she pulled out her phone, dialling a number. “Hi, love, would you be able to pack some clothes for myself and Cassiopeia? We’re going to go on a little mother-daughter trip this weekend.”

Cassiopeia’s eyes widened in disbelief as she heard her parents talking. Her mother gave a confirming hum, “I can always go shopping on the way up there if needed – Yeah, we’re just going to travel up to the Grampian Highlands for a bit of fun – Yes, yes, I’ll email the school if we end up staying a bit longer – Yes, just an old haunt, nothing unfamiliar – Yes, I’ll write up a schedule for Abagail, she knows what she likes for breakfast – I love you to, Joseph, I’ll see you in 10.” She swiftly hung up and placed her phone back down before noticing her daughter’s frozen face, “Is something wrong, Cassiopeia?”

“Yeah! I don’t want to go camping! And I have school on Monday I can’t miss that!” She cried in outrage.

Celeste scoffed, “Please, when I was your age, I was trying everything in my power to miss school, there’s no way you would rather be there – and miserable – than in Scotland with your amazing mother, where you’re bound to be much happier.”

“But why Scotland? There are hundreds of closer campsites and mountains than Scotland!”

Her mother sighed, tired, “Because, Cassiopeia, I’m going to prove to you that this magic does exist, that these creatures and this school are real. And the only way to do that, is by visiting an old friend.”

Her old friend, as it happened, appeared to be a man with fluffy brown hair and a peculiar name. When they’d stopped at home, her mother had made a second call as Cassiopeia had helped her father load the car. She thought she’d heard her mother call him Ned, or Nate, but as they begun to drive north, Celeste would not stop rambling about a newt with all his amazing creatures. It was only when they pulled into the carpark of a rather abandoned and dilapidated Tesco, retrieved their bags, and walked over to the man with the suitcase, that Cassiopeia realised she had been wrong.

“Celeste, is that you? You’ve grown!” He’d exclaimed, enveloping her – and his suitcase – in a huge hug. Releasing her, his eyes dropped to Cassiopeia, his smile stretched to his eyes, “And you must be Cassiopeia, your mother’s eldest?”

Cassiopeia shyly nodded her head, slightly out of her comfort zone, and stepped behind her mother. She’d never been the best with new people, and this was no exception. Her mother turned to her, pulling Cassiopeia into her side, “Cassiopeia, this is Newt. He’s one of my friends from school.”

Cassiopeia’s eyes widened, realising Newt had been a human being this whole time. Who in their right mind named their child Newt? But that felt rather rude to say, so instead she asked, “School? Does dad know him as well?”

But her mother only laughed, that beautiful, twinkly sound, and replied, “No, my love. Newt and I went to Hogwarts together – the magical school I’ve been telling you about!”

Cassiopeia’s nose wrinkled in confusion, “What? But that school’s not real, I told you that!”

Interrupting their conversation, Newt coughed, “Well, Celeste, if you’re sure about this, I suggest we apparate now. Tina’s been cooking all afternoon, and I don’t really trust Rolf to be left with the Nifflers.”

Cassiopeia took another step back from the strange man, “There’s no such thing as a Niffler. There isn’t, I know it.”

Newt and Celeste made eye contact over Cassiopeia, some sort of secret conversation occurring, before Celeste nodded and turned back to her child, “Cassiopeia, magic is real. Haven’t you noticed anything odd about Newt?”

She had in fact, noticed many odd things about Newt. His black pants did not match his mustard yellow vest, or his dark blue trench coat, and the little black tie on his shirt was far from the ordinary, not to mention the peculiar green –

Cassiopeia screamed, “What is that?”

Newt grinned, “That’s a Bowtruckle. Pickett’s clingier than– Ow!” He yelped as the creature – Pickett bit his thumb, clearly having heard what Newt said, “Ow, yes, Pickett, you know I didn’t mean it like that – Oh, just go off and be annoyed at me for the rest of the day, will you? You’re setting a bad example here– You wanted to meet Cassiopeia, there’s no other reason you would have come out! Wait, Pickett, where are you going?”

His eyebrows raised as Pickett tried to get to Cassiopeia, but the gap between Newt’s hand and her shoulder was too wide. Angrily, Pickett turned to face Newt, making wild hand movements towards Cassiopeia

Newt hesitated, before meeting Cassiopeia’s eyes, “You wouldn’t be interested in, I dunno, holding him?

She frowned in distain at the creature, “He’s not going to… bite me, is he?” Before Newt even had the chance to respond, Pickett shook his head vehemently at her, almost a promise that he would never bring her harm.

She hesitated. Her mother had told her of these creatures once before, many years ago. She’d spoken about how they resided in magical trees, whose wood was used to make wands and potions for witches and wizards alike, but she’d also mentioned how aggressive they got when their home, or themselves, was threatened, and she didn’t want that to happen to her. But some part of her found her nodding her head and stretching her arm out towards the Bowtruckle. He ran from Newt’s arm all the way up her shoulder, before he slipped into the front pocket of her coat, his head only slightly peaking out. She giggled, not quite expecting Pickett to do that, and grinned up at her mother and Newt.

“Are you ready to go, Cassiopeia?” Her mother questioned, reaching her hand out towards her daughter.

“Yeah! Is Newt joining us in the car? Do I have to sit in the back now?” Her eyebrows furrowed at this possibility, not looking forward to the squishy backseat.

“Not quite, my love. Newt’s going to get us there slightly quicker, through Apparition.”

“Merlin knows you were never the best at it,” Newt teased, “Cassiopeia, if you would be able to hold my suitcase – make sure it doesn’t unbuckle, please – then I’m going to hold your other hand, and then we’ll get out of here.”

She did as Newt said, sliding his suitcase into her free palm, making sure the buckles stayed down. “Now what?” She questioned.

Her mother grinned, “Now you hold on tight.”

And not a moment later, the three of them vanished into a flash of light.

Chapter Text

They reappeared instantly into the middle of a clearing, surrounded by massive, looming trees, their branches creating a perfect canopy that hid all from the outside world.

Unfortunately for Cassiopeia, she was too busy trying not to vomit to care too much about the trees. Somewhere in front of her, a blurry outline came into view, accompanied by a distorted voice, “I– I think I’m going to be sick–“ She whimpered, feeling the nausea completely overwhelm her senses and then– nothing.

Her vision cleared out as she looked up, stunned, “What…”

“Leniens,” Newt spoke, as he showed her the neatly polished wooden stick he had brandished.

Celeste smiled at her daughter, “That’s Newt’s wand. It’s how most wizards and witches control their magic,”

She frowned, “I’ve never seen you with a wand though. Are you not a witch?”

“Of course I am, sweet, I just happen to be more proficient without one. And of course, I wouldn’t want your sister stumbling across it and accidentally hurting herself.”

Cassiopeia went to respond, but at that exact moment a strange female voice was heard, coming from the edge of the clearing, “Newt, is that you?” The person walks closer to them, their pace quickening when they see Celeste and Cassiopeia by Newt’s side, “Oh Merlin, Celeste!” Cassiopeia can now see that it is a woman, with short, shoulder-length dark-brown hair, and stunning dark brown eyes. Her face was lit up in happiness as she barrelled into Cassiopeia’s mother, forcing her into what appeared to be a bone-crushing hug.
Celeste let out a shocked laugh, before hugging the woman back, “Hello to you too, Tina, I’ve missed your gorgeous face!”

The woman – Tina – stepped back, examining Celeste, “you’re grown your hair out! But it doesn’t look half bad like this, so I’ll let it slide. Oh and– you must be Cassiopeia!” At this, Tina crouched down. Cassiopeia was by no means short for her age, in fact most said that she would grow to be quite tall, so Tina was left to look up at her, “I’m Tina. Newt’s my husband.”

Cassiopeia nodded mutely, unsure what to do in this situation. Thankfully, her mother understood, “I’m sure the trip up here has taken its toll on Cassiopeia – and myself. Merlin knows it’s been a minute since I’ve apparated.”

Tina’s eyes widened, “Oh, of course! Inside, inside, all of you – yes, you too Newt, it’s about time you have a proper meal again instead of lurking about with those creatures of yours.”

Newt ducked his head, “Yes, yes, if you insist. Is there a room made up for our guests to stay in?”

“Rolf’s just finishing it off now – his punishment for trying to sneak off with that hippogriff again. He’s beyond furious that he doesn’t have any magic to help him out yet, the poor boy.”

“Rolf? Is he your son?” Celeste asked, looking up from collecting their bags.

Tina smiled, “Yes, he’s normally a joy to be around, but he’s embraced his… inner spirit since getting his Hogwarts letter, to say the least.”

Cassiopeia perked up at this, “Hogwarts? He’s going to Hogwarts?”

Her mother nodded, “He’s your age, actually. I was hoping the two of you would become friends before you go to school.”

Cassiopeia picks up her bag, the idea of being friends with a boy running through her head, so she just shrugged her shoulders and muttered, “maybe…”

The two mothers exchanged teasing looks before Tina spoke, “it might be best for us to all go inside now, I think.”

The inside of their house, was nothing like the outside. What appeared to be a small, homely cottage in the woods, grew into an elegant interior. Vines draped the wooden panels of the stained glass windows on the walls, and beautiful roses of all colours lines the rails of the spiral staircase. She could see how the foyer led into a kitchen with an equally high ceiling, and the staircase was nearly the seven people wide. Simply put, their house was massive for only three people, but then again, she thought, maybe they needed room for–

“DUCKKKKK!” A voice from above yelled. Cassiopeia shrieked, before slamming her body against the wooden panels of the floor, her knees throbbing from impact. From the top of the staircase, a boy appeared, roughly her age, with a look of pure terror on his face as a vivid blue streak careened straight for her. Her eyes widened has she hastily propelled her body towards the wall, the blue only narrowly missing her as it collided with the floor. She could now clearly see what lay in front of her – a brilliantly speckled bird, almost identical in appearance to bluejay, were it three sizes too big.

Its beady eyes locked onto her quickly, its head cocked to the side, almost considering whether she would make a tasty meal or not. Cassiopeia tried to push herself farther away from the huge bird, and opened her mouth to try and call for help – where was her mother? Where was Newt, or Tina?

And then the beast lunged, and there was nothing she could do. She faintly heard frantic voices, both young and old, in the background as it drew loser and flared its wings, beak open, and then–

It stopped.

The beast slowed to a halt right before her feet. Its eyes locked with her own, and the whole world seemed to freeze in that moment. Slowly, Cassiopeia stretched her shaking hand towards to the bird, her eyes filled with amazement as it almost smiled, and allowed her fingers to slowly stroke its vivid feathers, of which almost glowed, as if imbued with magic. She slowly looked up, noticing her mother’s smile. Cassiopeia nodded at the bird, “Is this – Is this a Jobberknoll? Like from your stories?”

Her mother’s smile grew, but it was Newt who spoke next. He was the closest to her and the bird – the Jobberknoll, and she could see a peculiar wonder in his gaze, “Yes, it is. And this particular one, Aurora, has been exceptionally troublesome in her stay with us.” As he spoke, she observed him crouch on the ground, slowly unbuckling his briefcase and positioning its main compartment facing the bird. “She’s been abnormally aggressive since arriving – She was found with a broken wing in a poacher’s camp, only a couple miles east from her den. Its currently their breeding season, so the lack of access to her species has driven her mental.” Newt began slowly inching his case closer as he spoke, his eyes never leaving Aurora. “It’s her own fault though. If she’d just taken a moment to let her body heal, we could have taken her back weeks ago, or at least introduced her to one of the resident males here. But, she’s been quite adamant in proving a pain.” Finally close enough, Newt risked a glance at Cassiopeia, “She seems to trust you though, so your help here would be much appreciated. My case provides a link to a series of vivariums that will allow me to easily get her back on the path to recovery, I’m not yet sure what pain her wing is currently in after flying. If you would be able to very carefully coax her towards my case – careful of the wing of course – then we’ll be on our way.”

She nodded, looking back to Aurora. “Do you think you would be able to move towards the nice mans case for me? That way, we’ll be able to fix your wing, and you can go back home quicker! But it can only happen if you work with us, please?”

And then it was almost as if Aurora knew exactly what Cassiopeia was asking of her – Aurora’s head gave a slight nod as she turned herself around, gave a careful shake out of her feathers, and hopped into the case. Newt snapped it shut quickly, waiting a moment before picking it up and turning his attention towards his son, “So how exactly did this happen?”

Rolf’s eyes widened as he scrambled to find the words, “I finished preparing their rooms early, and I was so bored, just sitting there! So I went to go see if I could find Stormbill, because I knew you’d hidden her somewhere, but I couldn’t find her, so I thought that – you’d spoken of how mental Aurora was so many times at dinner, so I was so sure that she would be similar to Stormbill, but when I walked into her vivarium, she was almost waiting at the door to pounce. She knocked me down and flew through the door before it closed and well…”In all fairness, Rolf did look sorry for his actions, but Cassiopeia could tell he seemed the type to still do such thing again.

Newt ran his hand through his hair, amused with his son’s antics. He turned to Celeste, “Would it be alright if Cassiopeia could help me with Aurora? I promise it’ll be a more controlled encounter than what we just witnessed, and I’ll be sure to keep her safe.”

Celeste turned to her daughter, “Do you want to go and help Newt? I’m sure he would be more than willing to introduce you to some of the other beasts I’ve told you about.”

Cassiopeia nodded her head in a quick return, too excited to form words. Aurora had been the most beautiful bird she’d ever seen – there was simply no comparison to any of the common songbirds that sang outside her bedroom window. She needed to know what else existed from her mother’s stories.

It was then Tina who spoke as she eyed off her son, “And I’m sure Rolf would be more than willing to assist with Aurora’s recovery as well, Newt. He was just dying earlier to be given the chance to clean the Kneazle’s den, and rid the Crups of the Chizpurfles.”

Rolf’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head at his mother’s words, “W-what? But last time I did that those pests ruined my watch! It took my ages to fix it! And the Kneazle’s will hate me for messing with their home! You can’t-“

“Oh but I can! That’s what happens when you touch things you shouldn’t, young man!” Tina scolded, “And in front of guests as well? Aurora nearly hurt Cassiopeia, and herself! This punishment is nothing.”

Rolf slumped his shoulders as he glanced at Cassiopeia, “I’m really sorry, it wasn’t meant to happen. I had no idea she would do that.”

Cassiopeia smiled, “It’s alright, I’m just glad she’s OK.” She turned to her mother, “Are you going to come see Aurora with us?”

Celeste shook her head, “No, Tina and I are going to catch up over a cup of tea, but make sure to say hi to everyone for me.”

And with that, Cassiopeia and Rolf followed behind Newt as he led them up the stairs and into an endless hallway. At what would normally have been halfway, Newt opened a door on their left to reveal what must have been the most beautiful ‘cage’ ever. It was a wonder numerous bugs didn’t fly through her wide-open mouth as she took in her surrounds.

In the distance, Cassiopeia could make out snow-dusted mountain peaks, and before it lay hundreds of lush trees, their leaves dappled with red in the autumn season. To her right, she could make out the dilapidated cobblestone ruins of what was once a village, but now lay covered in growing vines.

But right in front of her, grew what must be the most breathtaking tree in the world. It bore no leaves to its branches, each of which struck out against the sky in a bold display. And yet, in every nook and cranny of the tree rested Jobberknoll nests. Many were long abandoned, memories of the past birds that Newt had rescued, until Newt redirected Cassiopeia’s gaze towards the forest. She gasped as she saw pairs of the beautiful Jobberknolls soaring above the trees, the sun perfectly illuminating the vibrant purples and blues of their feathers. “They’re beautiful!” She exclaimed, looking over at Newt and Rolf, the latter of which was still sulking over his mother’s punishment.

Newt stepped forward, briefcase in hand, “I’ve found over the years that Jobberknolls have a strong preference for English Oak trees – one of few magical trees, the English Oaks are known for their affinity with the magic of the natural world, and are most commonly considered the Kings of the Forest. Of course, wizards love using their wood for their wands, so Jobberknolls have learnt to reside in the Oaks that grow separate from the rest of the magical forest. Some call it an intuition given to them by the trees themselves, others say it’s a baseless fact and the birds just like peace and quiet, and idea taken from the Jobberknoll’s lack of song until their dying breaths.” And with that, he flung his suitcase open, and climbed in.

Unsure if she was to follow Newt into his case or not, Cassiopeia hesitantly looked at Rolf in question. He shook his head solemnly and said, “I hope I have an English Oak wand. Dad told me Merlin did, and he was the greatest wizard ever.”

Cassiopeia frowned slightly, “What?”

“Merlin? The World’s Most Powerful Wizard? Magician, Prophet, and–”

“I know who Merlin is! I was originally asking if we were supposed to follow your dad.”

“Oh. No, he’ll be out in a second.” She watched as an idea slowly formed on Rolf’s face, “Say… You wouldn’t be interested in seeing a Chizpurfle, would you?”

She laughed, not unkindly, “Ha, you mean doing your defleaing chore for you? I’ll pass, I think. I would love to meet some of your father’s other creatures though, you think he’ll show me?”

Rolf scoffed, “The question is, what won’t he show you?” What he meant to come off as slightly snarky faded as soon as he made the mistake of glancing over at Cassiopeia, who bore the stupidest grin on her face. He snapped instantly, and the two of them broke into instantaneous laughter, continuously fueled by the silly thought that there was no reason for such hilarity.

When Newt re-emerged with Aurora not ten seconds later, he could not help but be happy at how well the two children were getting on. He made note to tell Tina when they were finished in the vivarium, if she was not already aware. He was glad that Rolf would have someone by his side as he entered Hogwarts, regardless of the possible mischief they could get up to.

Their laughing subsided as they noticed Newt’s presence, and Cassiopeia’s face lit up with delight as her eyes fell on Aurora. Newt found that in some form, he was excited for Cassiopeia’s interest in the beasts of the magical world – not to say that Rolf had anything against them, but he knew his son would find more passion in the subject if he had another soul right at his side, and Newt knew that nurturing their enthusiasm would lead to nothing short of greatness.

Chapter Text

Cassiopeia spent the next few days learning all there was to know about the magical world. Tina handed her books on the magical world (including, but not limited to, Hogwarts: A History by Bathilda Bagshot, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century by Theophilus Abbot, and The History of Wands: How their Magic Chooses the Wizard by Gerbold Ollivander), all of which proved to be excellent reads. She spent numerous hours with Newt, learning about all the exotic creatures she’d spent years hearing about, and her afternoons were filled with Rolf teaching her about the wonders of Quidditch, of which she believed she picked up quite quickly. By the time dinner rolled around, on her final night with the Scamander family, Cassiopeia could not stop thinking about the endless possibilities that Hogwarts would present her.

The five of them sat around the dining table, feasting on Pumpkin Pastries and Freshwater Plimpies (they taste better then they sound), and laughing about storied from Newt and Celeste’s time at Hogwarts. “And then not five seconds after Celeste had cast the leg-locking curse on Lucinda Talkalot, McGonagall walked right in! Detention for a week she was given, right there and then!”

Celeste cackled, “Ok, ok, but that’s not the full story! Only just before, she’d insulted my best friend, who, admittedly, had just gotten a rather terrible haircut over the holidays. But I couldn’t let that stand!”

Cassiopeia grinned at her mother, she wasn’t used to seeing her so loud and lively, she acted more mature around the parents of Cassiopeia’s friends. But she didn’t allow herself to dwell on it, not as two beautiful tawny owls swooped through the kitchen, dropping two neat stacks of envelopes before Newt before soaring out through the open window. “Oh, well would you look at that! Rolf, Cassiopeia, there’s letters for you!”

Cassiopeia’s eyes widened, locking with Rolf’s across the table as the scrambled from their seats to grab the mail from Newt. And it was true, for right in her hands, she held a parchment, addressed to no one but her:

Miss C. Abbot

The Smaller Guest Bedroom,

Scamander Residence,

The Grampian Ranges,

PITLOCHRY

Astounded, Cassiopeia ripped the letter open:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Abbot,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Professor Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Cassiopeia was officially going to Hogwarts. She looked up at her mother, mind already brimming with possibilities, “They want me, mom! They want me to be their student!”

“Of course they do, my love, how could they not?” She made eye contact with Tina, “We’ll have to arrange for some time to take these two to Diagon Alley for their school supplies, of course! We can make a whole day of it in London”

“Diagon Alley,” She interrupted, “What’s that?”

“What’s that?” Rolf spluttered from his seat across the table, “You live closer to London than me and you’ve never been to Diagon Alley?”

“Now, now, Rolf,” Tina tsked, “That’s not very polite, is it?”

Rolf had the modesty to look ashamed, but it was clear the answer was unsatisfactory.

Celeste intervened, “Well, Rolf, whilst myself and Cassiopeia are witches, my husband is what you would call a Muggle, and I made a deal with him when Cassiopeia was born that I wouldn’t introduce her to magic unless I was sure she would be a witch. And whilst I always was sure, I had to honour that deal.”

His face scrunched up, “But why?”

She laughed, “Because he’s my partner! And that’s what you do in marriage, you make compromises in order to keep each other happy!”

“…That sounds a bit stupid to me,” Rolf replied, narrowly dodging his mother’s angry hand in turn.

“But what is Diagon Alley?” Cassiopeia inquired, still very unsure about the popularity of this alley.

“Diagon Alley is kind of like a shopping street for Wizards, like Oxford Street in London,” Tina supplied, “It’s where Hogwarts students get their uniforms and books, and other magic folk go for their own reasons - whether it be food, new clothes, or other magic items that you can’t find in Muggle London.”

“Woah,” She breathed, “That’s so cool! So there’s like… Wizard ice cream?”

“A whole parlour dedicated to it!” Rolf butted in, “Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour! Mum took me once, I got a chocolate and raspberry flavour - it was delicious!”

Newt looked affronted, “You went without me?”

“You were busy in Romania, with that Romanian Longhorn!” Tina smiled, cheekily, “Besides, you never would have left the Parlour once you’d entered, and we had to leave Flor with at least something to sell to other customers!”

His only response was a sour glare as he returned to sorting through the mail. “Oh Celeste, there’s something here for you as well. From Dumbledore.”

Her mother’s eyebrows raised as she took the letter from Newt. She carefully broke the seal and pulled out a small piece of parchment. Cassiopeia watched her mother’s face as she read the letter, taking note as an uncomfortable tension settled over the room. Tina was the first to break the silence, “Is everything alright, Celeste?”

Celeste wordlessly handed the letter to Tina, eyes stuck to her plate as Tina examined the contents, “Oh, well that’s lovely! Are you going to say yes?”

Celeste laughed, mirthlessly, “Say yes? Of course I’m not going to say yes!”

“Sorry, what’s this about?” It was Newt who said this, clearly feeling just as put out as Cassiopeia.”

“Albus has asked me to take on the role of the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts this year.”

“Woahhhh,” Rolf breathed, “Are you going to be my professor?”

Celeste scoffed, “Hardly. There’s no way I’m taking this, for numerous reasons,” She shared a look with Newt, “He’ll have to find someone else! Whatever happened to Olivia Green, she was doing great in the position, last I’d heard!”

Newt grimaced, “Retired. Returned to the Ministry, I believe.”

“Oh well then…” Celeste faltered, “What about Quirinus? He was always an exceptional student in the subject!”

“Quirrell? Last I heard, he was teaching Muggle Studies--”

“No, he took a gap year, Professor Arif Sikander took over.” Tina interrupted.

“Well that’s lovely!” Celeste clapped her hands, “Arif can hold on to that for another year, and Quirinus will come back to teach Defence against the Dark Arts!”

Newt scrunched his nose, “Quirrell was always an odd sort…”

Celeste coughed, “Like you were any better? Did you not once get detention for telling a teacher ‘there are no strange creatures, only blinkered people’?”

“There is a succinct difference between magical beasts, and somehow magical wizards. But this isn’t the point. I won’t make you take the job, but I think you’ll be missing out.”

But Celeste only shook her head, “I’ll write him back after dinner. Cassiopeia, what else is in your letter?”

She startled, too caught up in the drama, and pulled the second piece of parchment from the envelope:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

Yours sincerely,

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus

Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

“Newt! Your book is on here!” Cassiopeia exclaimed, after she’d examined the list.

“I guess you’ll be able to get your copy easy then!” Tina joked, smiling at the ecstatic girl.

“Really?”

Newt cracked a grin, “I’ll sign it and everything.”

She tugged on her mother’s shoulder, “When can we go? Now?”

Celeste only laughed, “No, I do need to get you back to your school, but I’m sure the Scamander’s would love to meet us there, this coming Saturday? We can make a whole day of it!”

“That way the two of you can explore together!” Tina intervened, ‘As I’m sure there are many things us adults have to discuss after all these years.”

Dinner was quickly cleaned up, and Cassiopeia and Rolf quickly ran upstairs to his room, where Rolf showed her his collection of Chocolate Frogs (well, the cards), “This one says he was able to produce a patronus the size of a giant!”

Her eyes went as wide as saucers, “He could make a giant?”

“No, silly!” Rolf laughed, “A patronus is kind of like a ghost-guardian. You need to find a really happy memory to form one, and it’s really hard to form a complete one. Or at least, that’s what my mum told me.”

“But why do we need them? What do they actually do?”

Rolf scrunched up his nose, “Well, there’s these dark creatures called Dementors. Dad told me about them, said it’s never a creature that he wants to cross again. He says they look like Death himself, and they take all the happiness out of you. Which is why we need the patronus! Because they’re super happy and protect us!”

She frowned, “I guess that makes sense… What does a patronus look like?”

“I’m not really sure,” Rolf admitted, “I’ve never seen mum’s or dad’s patronus, but from what they’ve told me everyone has a different animal.”

Cassiopeia contemplated this, “Then I hope mine is a Jobberknoll, just like Aurora!”

Rolf scoffed, “A Jobberknoll? What’s so good about them? You’d want a Hippogriff, or a Thestral – Someone once had a Mammoth! Why wouldn’t you want one of those super cool ones?”

“I dunno!” She shrugged, “They’re just cute!”

“Fine. Well, I would want something like a Manticore!”

“What’s a Manticore?”

“What’s a—what’s a Manticore? Only the most awesome beast ever! it has the body of a Lion, but the tail of a Scorpion! Any Dementor would be too scared to come anywhere near me!” She giggled, trying to picture the silly Lion in her head. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll just show you then.”

Her laugh became more nervous, “What do you mean you’ll show me? Didn’t you say they were dangerous?”

“Not a real one,” He clarified, , “Just the one on my Chocolate Frog card, of course!”

After a few seconds of digging through his cards, he brought out a pentagon-shaped card, with a small image of the previously described Manticore roaring fiercely. “Woahhh,” She breathed, grabbing the card from him to inspect it better, “How does this work? The moving image?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” He admitted, “But wizards use it a lot for their photos. You’ll see moving images in a lot of our newspapers, especially The Daily Prophet.”

She flipped the card over in her hand, reading the short blurb on it’s back:

A rare, dangerous beast, the Manticore has been known to sing softly as it east its prey. It's sting will kill instantaneously.

“Why would you want to have one of these? That sounds terrible!”

“I don’t want an actual one! Dad’s got one and that already causes him enough trouble. Just one as my Patronus, to scare everyone off!”

She considered this, “Alright. What other cards do you have, maybe a scary animal is the right way to go after all.”

They went through all of Rolf’s cards, discussing the pros and cons of each animal. Eventually he got bored, and moved on to Quidditch – a very novel concept. Admittedly, the rules were very interesting, and she found herself hoping she could play for her house once she was old enough. He told her about the professional teams as well, “Canada only just beat Scotland last year, so there won’t be another world cup until 1994! And then of course there’s the British and Irish Quidditch League, and this year the Kenmare Kestrels have been absolutely blasting through the League, which really, is the most exciting thing to have happened since the Banchory Bangers were forced to disband back in 1814…”

By the time Cassiopeia’s mother came upstairs to tuck her into bed, she knew there would be no chance of sleeping that night, not with Hogwarts finally becoming a reality. Cassiopeia was beyond excited, for the beginning of her Hogwarts journey. The animals, The Scamander’s, Diagon Alley… Everything her mother had shown her over the past few days had been exactly what she’d needed. No longer would she mope over that failed drawing from the week prior, or worry over the falsities of her mother’s stories. She knew it was all true now, and she was ready to make the most of this opportunity.

Cassiopeia would become the best Witch ever, and there was nothing no one could do to stop her. Magical Beasts, flying, potions, or spells, she was determined to make her mother, her family, proud.

The world would come to know the name Cassiopeia Melania Abbot, and she would make sure of it.

Chapter Text

By the end of the weekend, there was not a doubt in Cassiopeia's mind that magic was not real. Every waking hour (and dream) was spent thinking over the countless creatures and beasts that Newt looked after, and every meal introduced her to some new form of magical food her mother had failed to present her with (Caldron Cakes were her absolute favourite). But the time had come for Cassiopeia and her mother to depart the Scamander residence, and return to her depressing life in Number 13 Blackthorn Place, London. It wasn’t a sad farewell though, as the countdown had already begun for when she would see her new friends again. She only had to make it through the week.

“Do I still have to go to my primary school, mum?” She asked, looking up at Celeste with pure hope.

“Yes, of course, my dear,” came her response, “Your father is still very insistent on you getting the most of your Muggle education before your Hogwarts departure.” Cassiopeia slumped backwards in the passenger seat. She could already see the looming buildings of London nearing closer, and she found herself dreading it. “Don’t worry my love, there’s only one week remaining of the year, and then you’re free to daydream about magic as much as you want.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Monday:

The first day back was difficult. Abagail had been beyond happy to see her mother and sister again, furious that she had been left behind. “Next time, my sweet Abagail, next time I’ll take you with me, and you’ll see all that your sister has.”

Her mother had been making a lot of promises lately. Cassiopeia’s mother had said that she could not talk about magic or Hogwarts at home, it didn’t make father happy, and Abby would simply become too jealous.

So Cassiopeia stayed quiet.

In class, the teacher asked everyone to go around the circle and say what they had done on their weekend. Cassiopeia knew she wasn’t allowed to mention magic at home, and she was sure similar rules would apply here, in a room filled with Muggles (she didn’t mean for it to sound rude, but there was clearly a distinct difference between herself and her peers, now that she knew she was a Witch, of course). So when it rolled around to her turn, and they eyes of the whole class were on her, she simply said, “I went camping, and saw plenty of pretty animals.” No mention of magic, or her new boarding school. She had done good. But it felt like there was something missing. Now that she knew the magic was there, it didn’t feel right to ignore it, it didn’t feel right at all.

Her mother had warned her that as her magic began to manifest, too strong emotions could trigger unwanted outbursts of untethered energy – magic in its rawest, most uncontrolled form. She had said it was similar to how she used wandless magic, except Cassiopeia lacked the training to concentrate it down into a usable spell. And despite how much she had begged and pleaded, Celeste had been firm in her opinion to not teach Cassiopeia how to use this magic. “It’s not allowed, sweetheart. You’re an underage witch, and the Ministry of Magic can track every spell you do outside of Hogwarts. It’s best you wait for your schooling to begin before you start learning spells, the most I can teach you is how to tell when your emotions begin to get the best of you, and how to stop your magic from bubbling to the surface.”

And Merlin knows Cassiopeia was eager to learn even the smallest fragment of magic, so of course she agreed, “How do I control that? Is there a spell I need to remember? A series of movements to master? A—”

“No, nothing like that. Come sit by me. Yes, on the floor. Now cross your legs, like me.”

Cassiopeia did just that, resting her hands on her knees, “What now?”

“Close your eyes, and breathe. This breathing style is called box-breathing, where you do each step for four seconds. Breathe in, hold, breathe out, hold, and repeat. As you do this, you become a second-hand witness to any thoughts running through that beautiful head of yours. You see them, you acknowledge them, and you let them go, let them run free from your mind, your thoughts.”

Cassiopeia kept her eyes closed, but frowned, “But how does this help to control my magic? I can’t just sit down whenever I feel angry! People will think I’m weird!”

“You’ve got to let go of the thoughts of others. Their opinions must mean nothing to you. And to answer your first question, your emotions are tied to your magic. A calm mind, means calm emotions, which means calm magic. When you’re first learning to meditate, sitting with your eyes closed is simply the best way to focus, but as you journey through Hogwarts, and use this more and more, you will only need the breathing to calm your mind, and—”

“—And my emotions and magic.”

“Exactly.” Cassiopeia can almost hear the smile in her mother’s voice.

And so they sit, facing each other with their legs crossed, eyes closed, and breathing synced. Their thoughts come and go, and Cassiopeia does not find herself missing them.

Eventually, Cassiopeia feels herself beginning to succumb to sleep, and she feels her mother’s arms around her, picking her up and carrying her to bed.

Celeste’s lips press to her daughter’s forehead, “You have strong magic my angel, and this will help in time, I promise.”

Her mother had been making a lot of promises lately. But Cassiopeia found that it was alright. They were good promises.

Tuesday:

“Cassie, Cassie, look what I have!” It was one of her many classmates, running towards her at full speed. She come to a stop right in front of the confused girl, leaning over as she fought to catch her breath.

“Annalise,” Cassiopeia greeted. She couldn’t ever say she had been the most fond of the girl. Cassiopeia hated nicknames, and this girl went against her singular belief (well, she went against many of them, actually, but she always had chocolate in her lunch, and Cassiopeia had weak morals.) “What are those-”

“They’re wands!”

Cassiopeia froze. There was no way Annalise of all people knew her secret, right? Or could Annalise be a witch too? Would they be at Hogwarts together? Would Cassiopeia never truly escape her—

“Do you want to play Wizards with me? I asked Georgia and Tommy, but they already had plans to play Tag on the oval, and I didn’t really want to run around. Tommy always wins Tag, it’s not very fair you know, because he’s a boy and all—”

“All right,” Cassiopeia interrupted, “I’ll play with you. Which one’s mine?”

Annalise grinned, handing her the slightly shorter (and much more crooked) stick, brandishing her own against Cassiopeia with elaborate, flourish gestures, clearly meant to intimidate her. Already she could feel herself growing annoyed with the girls antics. She was in no mood to play pretend, she wanted her own, real wand. Was that too much to ask for?

Annalise pointed her want at Cassiopeia’s chest, “Haha, got you! I cursed you, and now you can’t move your feet!”

Cassiopeia glared. She was sure somewhere out there, there was an actual spell that could do that very thing (she silently vowed to herself to learn it immediately and then cast it on this rude girl). Annalise started dancing around, taunting her duelling partner, but Cassiopeia was beginning to see red. Who did Annalise think she was, to think she could use magic? She had no right! And almost without thinking, she raised her ‘wand’ and—

Annalise was propelled backwards. Only by a few steps, but the girl was clearly shocked, and quickly lost her footing. Not a second later, she was on the ground. Cassiopeia’s eyes went wide, her hand slightly shaking as she dropped the stick.

“This game is stupid,” She muttered, wrapping her arms around herself as she walked off, ignoring Annalise’s protests.

She lost control. What would her mother think?

“You cast on another girl?”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” She curled into herself.

“I’m not angry at you, my dear. I’m here to help you. We will sit down and breathe when we get home.”

Cassiopeia could not tell her mother she did not like the breathing. She was trying, she really was.

Dear Rolf,

 I hope you are doing well. Being back in the Muggle world has been difficult for me. Have you been having troubles with your magic? My mother keeps telling me that as long as I remain calm, I will not have any ‘magical outbursts’, but it is really hard. I do not like meditating at all.

 Mother also said I cannot talk about magic or my new school around my dad or little sister. Something about Muggles not understanding, but Abagail will be a witch too, will she not? I told her it is annoying not having anyone (of my own age, of course) to talk to about Hogwarts, so she suggested I owl you. I was very confused by what an ‘owl’ was, but apparently that is how wizards send their post. Did you know that? I certainly did not. But according to her, this owl’s name is Canary (which is weird, but I could not exactly tell her she has gotten her animals mixed up. That is disrespectful.)

 Do you think you know which Hogwarts house you’re going to be placed in? My mother told me about them. She said she was in Gryffindor, but her friends were split between her house and Slytherin (sounds very snake-y, don’t you agree? She did not speak very positively about it). Personally I think Gryffindor is a bit of a weird house, I hope neither of us are in there. She said Ravenclaw was where a lot of the more academic-focused students went. I think she was trying to avoid calling them nerds, but I think there is a chance I could end up there, you agree? She said Hufflepuff was where ‘the rest go’, but  your dad in Hufflepuff, was he not? He turned out alright! But I have a feeling she will not be too happy if I ended up there, so I guess I will aim for Ravenclaw.

 I look forward to hearing back from you!

Sincerely,

Cassiopeia Melania Abbot

 P.S. Sorry for the formal language – Mother says now that I’m going to Hogwarts, I need to have ‘proper etiquette’. I’d like to see her try and enforce that one though.

Wednesday:

Annalise was not at school on Wednesday. The teacher mentioned something about a cold going around, but there was a weird look in her eye. And it was only the start of Autumn.

Cassiopeia approached her during free time, “Miss Jane, what actually happened to Annalise? She was alright yesterday.”

Miss Jane bit her lip, obviously unsure about whether she should tell this little girl about what happened. But Cassiopeia was a brilliant actor, and she knew her teacher would believe her concern was real (It was, wasn’t it?).

“Well, Anna had a bit of a fall yesterday, Cassie…opeia, and woke up this morning with her back a bit bruised and hurting, so her mother decided to keep her home for the day.”

Cassiopeia could feel the colour draining from her face. She’d done more than accidentally knock the girl over, she was hurt. “Oh… Could I go to the bathroom please?”

Miss Jane frowned at the randomness of the question, but still let the girl go.

As soon as she had shut the classroom door behind her, she sprinted for the gates of the school. She sat on the curb, watching the cars drive past. It was raining, and she could slowly feel the water soaking into her clothes. But that was ok. It camouflaged her tears. She pulled out her phone, for emergency purposes only, and clicked her mother’s number.

“Cassiopeia? Why are you calling me in the middle of the day? Has something happened?”

She tried to weight down the tremor in her voice, the wobble that gave away, “Can you come pick me up, mum? I don’t— I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Dear Cassiopeia, 

Thanks for your letter! It’s been really boring out here without your company. Mum keeps making me do chores as “punishment” for getting Aurora hurt, which we both know is absolute bollocks. But I guess I’m lucky that I’m not stuck in Muggle London. Sorry to hear that it’s going bad, by the way. It’s absolutely mental that your mother won’t even let you speak about magic, way to suck the joy out of it if you ask me! Canary is actually a very normal name for an owl, believe it or not. My dad has one called Owlexander. Get it? I didn’t until I was about eight.

I think Ravenclaw would be very nice, but Dad’s always talked about how brilliant Hufflepuff is (plus, the common room entrance is apparently right next to the kitchen, and I really like food). Gryffindor isn’t that bad though – Dumbledore is in Gryffindor, and he’s a really, really good wizard. My dad is friends with him, you know!

My dad has only now decided to tell me that we don’t get to take the Care of Magical Creatures class until our third year! That’s absolutely mental, is it not? But it’s fine, you’ll sneak down with me to see then creatures, right? We’ll just make sure we won’t get caught, I’m not sure if the professors would be too happy to see two first years down there. But let me know!

—Rolf

P.S. My magic has been completely normal! Dad just says I shouldn’t go into the vivarium of the bigger creatures, just in case I get ‘too scared’ and accidentally do something. But who does he think I am?

Rolf,

Well I’m glad someone’s magic is cooperating. Mine knocked one of my friends over when I felt the slightest hint of irritation, and she was not at school today, because the bruising from the fall was hurting her too much! I left early. Rolf, my magic hurt someone. I feel terrible.

Sorry about the chores. How is Aurora doing though? Is her wing all healed? I am very sad I did not get to say goodbye to her. I wish we could have just stayed with you three, instead of meeting you at Diagon Alley—It feels like forever away! At least I would be able to talk about magic with you, but this feels medieval, using owls to communicate—and Owlexander is a brilliant name for an owl. I can’t wait to get to get my own animal. I think a cat, a Kneazle I guess, would make a great familiar, but I’m beginning to like the idea of an owl more and more. I would give it a good name though, something elegant, something fit for a Queen.

I guess it will suck to not be in the same House, but we will still talk, right? There’s no great rivalry between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff right? We will figure it out. And it is not that I do not like Dumbledore, but he seems like a bit of an overachiever, with all of his awards and titles—I mean, did you see my acceptance letter? What even is a ‘Supreme Mugwump’?

And of course I will go with you to see the creatures. If there is any subject that you will be top of class for, I guarantee it will be that one. And of course they will not catch us, because I will be the best witch in our grade, and we will be so invisible that they think they are the one breaking curfew (Is it weird to keep writing so formally when we are scheming how to break the rules?).

Well, write back soon. I am dreadfully lonely and I am not sure what to do with myself.

Sincerely,

Cassiopeia Melania Abbot

Thursday:

Cassiopeia did not go to school the next day, not that she was complaining. It gave her some time to spend with Abagail, who was beyond devastated to be losing her for the whole year.

“I’ll be back in the holidays, Abagail, and we’ll write to each other, at least every week.”

The small girl’s lip trembled, “But I see you every week! What if I forget what you look like?”

She turned to her sister, from where they both sat on the couch. For a seven year old, Abagail had always been very attached to those around her, all the more reason for Cassiopeia’s betrayal to hurt her, “I promise it won’t be forever. And who knows, maybe you’ll go there as well!”

“You think Foxcroft Academy will want me as well?” Right, Cassiopeia’s lie. No mentions of Hogwarts, her mother had been very insistent on that, so instead she had taken the fake school’s name from one of her old stories, and given it to her little sister. She told herself it wasn’t permanent, her mother couldn’t expect her to keep Hogwarts a secret forever. They had the same parents, the same amount of magical blood, was it not a certainty that Abagail would be joining her there in two years’ time?

But regardless, she had to listen to her mother. “Of course Foxcroft will want you! You’re brilliant, and talented, and funny, and super cute—” The little girl smiled, but Cassiopeia could tell it wasn’t real. “I’m sorry,” She leaned back against the couch, sinking into the cushions, “I don’t want to leave you, and I wish I could take you with me. I fear I might be very lonely at Ho—Foxcroft.”

“But if you’re going to be lonely, why are you going?”

Well, wasn’t that the question of the decade. Cassiopeia wasn’t sure how to answer. How do you explain to your little sister about your secret magical abilities which are making her hurt the people around her? What if her sister was next, and she tripped because of Cassiopeia, and fell and broken her leg? Cassiopeia would never forgive herself! It wasn’t safe for her to be around her sister, it wasn’t safe for her to be around anyone!

“I think it’s for the best, Abagail. I think me going there is for the best.”

Friday:

Cassiopeia wasn’t sure how she’d made it to Friday, but somehow she had. She returned to school for her last day, knowing she would be with Rolf in 24 hours, and she would be safe and unable to hurt anyone. No, wizards could defend themselves from her. She would fit in there.

Annalise was back at school as well. She had a slight limp, and wasn’t allowed to walk very much.

“Hiya, Cassiopeia!”

She froze. Of course, she had been avoiding the girl - Cassiopeia couldn’t even bring herself to look at her friend, but the confrontation was clearly inevitable. “Hi, Annalise…”

“Where were you yesterday? We missed you!”

“Oh,” Cassiopeia floundered, “I was… A bit sick, just a common cold, that’s all. What… What about you? You missed Wednesday.”

Annalise frowned, “I’m not too sure! I woke up, and my back really hurt. I guess I fell over harder when we were playing than I thought.”

Cassiopeia’s eyes widened, “Annalise, I’m so very sorry, I promise I really didn’t—”

“What? Why on earth would it be your fault? You were nowhere near me! It was the wind, no really! I felt it, and I saw it in the trees behind your head, a huge gust that just happened to make me lose balance.”

Cassiopeia’s brow furrowed, “Are—Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course! I’m not mad at you at all! But please, let’s change the topic! What are you doing this weekend? I’m having a party and I would love for you to be there—”

“I’m leaving,” She blurted.

Time seemed to slow down, almost as if it was ticking to a stop. “What do you mean you’re leaving?”

Cassiopeia bit the inside of her lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood. “Well… My parents have decided to send me to a boarding school in Scottland next year. Tomorrow is my last day. My mother and I are leaving early to get me settled in.”

It wasn’t the full truth. Sure, Cassiopeia could last out the remaining week of the school term, but she didn’t want to. She couldn’t. It was too painful, to walk around seeing the faces of Muggles who would never understand her, understand what she was. She’d begged and pleaded to her mother, until eventually Celeste had given in. She’d hoped they would return to stay with Rolf and his family, but they were going on a family vacation to Bulgaria before the school year started, and Diagon Alley would be the last time they saw each other before their trip. Instead, Cassiopeia and her mother would be staying in Diagon Alley, at a local Inn, at a place called The Three Broomsticks. It was the magic she had been waiting for.

“And you’re only telling us now?” Annalie’s astounded voice brought Cassiopeia back to reality, “You didn’t even sound like you were going to tell me at all! How was I – how was everyone – going to say goodbye to you?”

Cassiopeia only shrugged her shoulders, “I didn’t really think you would all miss me that much,” She mumbled, examining the scuff marks on her school shoes.

“Of course we’ll miss you” She exclaimed, “Your our friend!”

But Cassiopeia still couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with the girl—She was terrified that Annalise would realise at any moment that her bruises weren’t from an accident, and that they were Cassiopeia’s fault. Annalise wasn’t safe around her, none of them were.

That night, as the Abbot family was getting ready for bed, Cassiopeia couldn’t help but linger back in the living room with her mother. Celeste, who had been reading some new cookbook, immediately noticed her daughter’s presence, and beckoned her over to the couch.

“What’s the matter, my love?”

“I told a girl at school today that I was leaving,” she admitted.

Celeste watched her daughter closely, observing her, “What did she say?”

Cassiopeia frowned, “She was hurt. And not because I knocked her over with my magic the other day, she was hurt because I hadn’t told her.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell her? Did you tell your other friends?”

Cassiopeia shook her head, “I didn’t tell anyone. I wasn’t even planning on telling Annalise, but it just slipped out. She’s having a party this weekend, you see, and wanted to invite me.”

“So what did you tell her?”

“That I couldn’t, because you and I were leaving for Scottland.” Cassiopeia hesitated before continuing, in a smaller voice, “I didn’t think any of them would miss me, not after everything I’ve done to them.”

Celeste frowned, “My dear, you’ve done nothing wrong to them! Your magical outburst was completely normal! It happens to all young Witches and Wizards before they’ve learnt to control their magic, and if it ever gets too bad, the Ministry of Magic has a special division ready to step in and help.”

Cassiopeia’s eyes widened, “Is that what they did for Annalise? Is that why she doesn’t think it was my fault?”

Celeste laughed, pulling her daughter in close. “No, they didn’t need to step in. And if anything, Cassiopeia, you should be immensely proud of yourself for only having had one magical outburst! I can tell you’re going to be an incredibly talented Witch my dear.”

“How can you tell?”

“I can see it in your eyes, but also in your soul. Your magic is going to be something this world has never seen before, and your name, Cassiopeia Melania, will leave a long-lasting legacy at Hogwarts, and far beyond.”

“Really?”

“I’m sure of it.”

Dear Cassiopeia,

This will probably be my last letter, since I’m seeing you on Saturday, but hopefully it reaches you before then! I asked my mother about those “magical outbursts” that you mentioned though, and she said they were normal occurrences in young wizards who haven’t had any training, or a wand to channel their magic through.

And speaking of them, I had one! The news arrived yesterday – The standard, Muggle news – and the front page talked about a snake that had just escaped from the zoo! A Boa Constrictor, bred in captivity there. It made me furious that those Muggles just think they can do whatever. Imagine if they knew about all the magical creatures of the Wizarding World? They would torture them for their feathers and fur, scales and horns – it would be a whole new market, a whole new zoo for Muggles to ogle at our animals—

Mum says I’m getting carried away. I may have set my hair on fire again. Who would have thought? At least it was only my hair this time though, last time, I was in the Diricawl Vivarium with my dad, and all their tails started burning (and Dad’s coat, but that was alright)! Dad can’t wait for me to get to Hogwarts now, I bet.

Aurora is doing well though. Dad said it looks like she’s really missing you. I think he’s just jealous that you could get her to sit still, and he can’t. And Owlexander is an alright name, but I really wanted them to name him Hoo-dini! Which, would have been more fitting, seeing as though he likes escaping so much. Mum wanted to call him Owlbert Einstein, after some Muggle who ‘invented’ Physics, but most of that is Hogwash in the Wizarding World, so Dad ruled it out pretty quickly. Hey, maybe you can name your “regal” owl Queen Elizabeak (Her Royal Fluffiness for short)!

And of course Dumbledore is an overachiever – He’s Dumbledore! And believe it or not, but ‘Supreme Mugwump’ means that he’s the elected chairman (and leader) of the International Confederation of Wizards, which is pretty much the highest office in the Wizarding World. So yeah, definitely an overachiever.

But glad to hear you’ll sneak out with me! That’ll show them!

—Rolf

Cassiopeia didn’t write back, he wouldn’t get her letter, after all. But her mother was right, what happened with Annalise was completely normal. She was normal.

Chapter Text

Unlike Oxford Street, it wasn’t easy to access Diagon Alley. There was no busy street to turn down, no staircase leading up from some underground car park.
Instead, Cassiopeia and her mother caught the subway into the centre of London, and walked. Cassiopeia wouldn’t say walking was her favourite thing to do in the world (for one, she would much rather be practising magic), but her mother had said that Hogwarts had many staircases, and this ‘short walk’ would help to bring up her strength.
Eventually though, they stopped outside what appeared to be a dilapidated store. Black paint was peeling from its surface in asymmetrical strips, and the shutters over the windows had seen better days. And yet, it seemed as if this was their final destination.
“Why have we stopped here? It’s just an old building?”
Celeste only laughed in return, tilting her daughter’s head up, “Look closer, Cassiopeia. Tell me what you see.”
At first glance, she saw nothing. The building looked exactly the same. But as she went to tell her mother of her delusions, it began to shift before her very eyes. The paint re-stuck itself to the walls, now with a faint emerald shimmer, and the windows were now cleaner than Abigail’s bedroom, emerald curtains drawn back, exposing the golden light shining inside. But most significantly, the blank sign that had once sat by the front door was reforming. It’s metal bubbled as it shifted shape, and as words branded themselves into its surface. The Leaky Caldron.
She looked over at her mother, her eyes shining with the possibilities of a thousand suns, “What is this place?”
“This, my love, is The Leaky Caldron. One of the British Wizarding World’s most famous pubs, and out entrance into Diagon Alley.” And with that, she pulled her daughter inside.

The atmosphere of Diagon Alley was like nothing she had ever witnessed before. Chairs were floating through the space, and people—Wizards were levitating drinks across the pub to other patrons. The ceiling was illuminated by two massive Viking-era chandeliers, which looked as if they had been carved from bone, and hung up for all to enjoy. Paintings hung on and decorated every wall, their inhabitants moving about just as much—if not more than the patrons of the bar. In one, a man in medieval armour twirled his damsel, and another, a woman sat, intricately painting a vase of hydrangeas. Entranced, Cassiopeia walked towards the painting, watching as the girl painted each petal a different shade of violet, magenta, or indigo, blending together a thousand unique shades and hues.
Cassiopeia didn’t realise how close she’d grown, until the girl suddenly turned around, glaring right at her. “Were you never taught to understand personal space, little girl?”
Cassiopeia yelped. Why was the painting talking to her? How could this even be possible? She knew the logical answer was magic (she deserved the irony), but she couldn’t help her  shock, “I’m so sorry, Miss, I didn’t—Your painting was just so beautiful—I didn’t realise how close I’d gotten.”
The girl in the portrait relaxed, placing her brush down and turning around to fully face Cassiopeia. “That’s alright, deary. What’s your name?”
“Cassiopeia Melania Abbot.”
The strange girl’s right eyebrow arched, “An Abbott, really? What’s your mother’s lineage?”
“She’s not that Abbott, I’m afraid,” Celeste smoothly cut in, “It’s Abbot with one t. Her father is a Muggle.”
The painted lady paused, her eyes flickering back and forth between the two, before shrugging her shoulders, “What do I know? I’ve been dead for what feels like a Millennia, perhaps the times truly have shifted.” Her eyes shifted up, over Cassiopeia’s head, “OI! TOM, COME ’ERE!”
Cassiopeia flinched back at her loud yell, but turned to watch as a balding man cut his way through the crowd. His red bowtie made him stand out in his plaid grey vest and cream undershirt, but the smile on his face brought nothing but kindness into their circle, “’Ello there, Daisy. What can I do for ya?”
The lady—Daisy—Smiled down at Tom, “Get these two ladies some Butterbeer for me, would you? On the house.”
Tom sighed, “Daisy, you don’t own this pub no more, you can’t keep doing this!”
She scowled down at him, “Don’t embarrass the Dodderidge name, boy! I should be ashamed to even be related to a man like you!”
That certainly shut him up, and he reluctantly nodded his head and walked back to the bar.
Cassiopeia turned back to the woman, “This is your bar?”
She smiled, “Aye. Daisy Dodderidge, at your service. I founded this pub back in 1500, before Charing Cross Road was ever here. It’s the only way to access Diagon Alley from Muggle London, which I suspect is where you’re headed.”
Cassiopeia nodded her head, “It’s my first year. But you speak as if there are still other ways to reach Diagon Alley?”
“Of course there is! You could use your Floo, or you could apparate!”
She slowly nodded her head, trying to grasp some understanding of what Floo Powder was.
Her mother interrupted again, “Apologies, Daisy. Whilst Cassiopeia and myself are both of the Wizarding World, her father did not permit me to educate her too much about the world until she was accepted into Hogwarts.”
Daisy scoffed, “That is utterly outrageous! For a Muggle to believe that he has more say over this girl’s life than a Witch? Has society really changed this much, that Machiavelli’s The Prince is coming to life? You must never let him have such a say over her again!”
Cassiopeia glanced up at her mother nervously, waiting for her reaction. But the woman had gone stone-faced as she locked eyes with Daisy, “I don’t know who you are to think you have a say in my marriage, but the times have changed, and none of your blood purity beliefs have any sway over who myself, or other Wizards, choose to love.”
Daisy gasped, but it was far from outrage, “You think that I’m one of those, fascist blood supremacists? I lived through a time where the world was influenced by the words of Martin Luther, who only made it more accessible for Muggles to launch war crimes on the Wizarding World. If one could be a child of God simply from being baptised, then Martin Luther had created an army against us! I come from a world where the attacks were relentless, and finding shelter in the home of one Muggle was like my own slice of Heaven. How much better would I have been, if I’d held myself to the same beliefs and opinions as the very man seeking to destroy us all?” Their corner went silent, following Daisy’s outburst, but she was calm. She was used to this. “I will not hold this against you, mother of Cassiopeia, on one condition.” Celeste’s eyes turned wary, but she had been left in no position to judge the painting. “The school term begins in six weeks. If Cassiopeia truly knows nothing about our world, then I insist you let me teach her of our history, for there is nothing worse than entering Hogwarts, feeling like you’re no better than a Muggleborn.”
Cassiopeia could take a very good guess at what a Muggleborn was, and she had to agree with Daisy. But Celeste was not so readily agreeable. “You want to teach her? What good will that do! You’ve been dead for centuries!”
“Merlin, I had no idea,” Daisy scorned, “I bear first-hand experience. You can feel free to teach her about any new, modern invention you’ve come across, but I want to tell her things about our world, about Hogwarts, that will benefit her so much more than reading some dusty old book.” Cassiopeia scrunched her nose at that one. She quite enjoyed reading the various magical books she had. Daisy’s eyes narrowed at Celeste, “Do you really want her to find out who Harry Potter is from Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century?”
The mention of this person seemed to be her mother’s deciding figure. She gritted her teeth, but still made eye contact with Daisy and agreed, “Fine. I will send her over every afternoon at two, and Cassiopeia can choose how long she’ll stay for.”
Daisy nodded in satisfaction. She went to speak, but it was at that moment that Tom returned with two overflowing cups—Butterbeer, Daisy had called it. He placed the cups on the circular table to their right, but as he went to leave, Daisy called out to him, “And Tom! If you would be able to give our dear friends here the key to my vault at Gringotts, there’s some books down there I want Cassiopeia to have.” He looked as if he wanted to argue, but one glare from Daisy silenced him. He begrudgingly pulled out a tangled keyring from his pocket, sorting through it until his fingers landed on an average sized brass key. As he pulled it from the chain and handed it to her, she noticed the weathered tag hanging from it:

Daisy Fiera Dodderidge, Vault 17

“Vault 17?” Celeste muttered, peering over Cassiopeia’s shoulder, “But there’s thousands of vaults, that must have been at the very beginning!”
Cassiopeia couldn’t be more confused “What’s Gringotts?”
Daisy chuckled, “Gringotts is our Wizarding Bank. And yes, there are now thousands of vaults, but Gringotts was only founded in 1474. I was one of the first to place my trust in the Goblins to keep my belongings and money safe, and many others were soon followed in my footsteps. I’d like you to keep that key, Cassiopeia. That particular vault only leads to things that many others will believe have no significant value. But Witches like you and I, we value the knowledge, and I know I can trust my possessions to now fall into your hands. I’m sure the Goblins, or your mother, will help explain what everything is, should you need it. What I want you to grab for our next lesson though, is a stack of five books directly below the oval mirror. You won’t miss it, I promise.”
Cassiopeia smiled and nodded, promising that she would have them by tomorrow afternoon. 
They departed from Daisy’s portrait with their Butterbeers, and found a slightly larger table to sit at. Across the room, Cassiopeia could faintly make out Daisy returning to her painting, shaking her head as she added yellow paint to her brush. Daisy’s key was warm in her palm, almost as if she could feel the magic vibrating from its inner core, calling out to her.
“What time is Rolf arriving, mum? Maybe we can go to Gringotts before they get here?”
“We’ll have to go tomorrow morning, Cassiopeia. The Scamander’s are only here today, and we don’t want to miss out on being with them at all do we?
She looked down at her drink, “I guess…” It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Rolf—She’d gone a whole week without the comfort of her only friend, the only person who truly understood what she was. But Daisy was giving her the promise of knowledge that her mother had not been allowed to tell her. But it was fine. Cassiopeia could wait. “it will be OK, my dear. Now try your butterbeer, they’ll be here soon.”
She smiled back at her mother, and lifted the cup to her mouth. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected Butterbeer to taste like, but it exploded in her mouth like a caramel cake pulled straight from the oven—it was heavenly and warm and tasted like home. “How have you kept this from me for all these years? This is amazing!”
“It’s because it’s liquid chocolate—She didn’t want you to get addicted to early,” A voice interrupted, “Unlike Rolf over here, who has unfortunately become a lost cause!” 
Cassiopeia spun around, beaming as she set her eyes upon Rolf and Tina, “You’re here!” She shot up from her chair, barrelling into Rolf. She wasn’t one to hug people very often, but she felt as if it was needed here. She felt as if it truly had been longer than a week, and she’d missed him more than anything.
“Hello, Cassiopeia, Celeste. Have we kept you waiting long?” Tina’s question was a rude interruption. Didn’t they have grown-up things to discuss? Couldn’t they leave Cassiopeia and Rolf alone, to catch up over all that had been discovered?
“No, of course not! We only arrived just half past the hour—Daisy Dodderidge’s portrait kept us plenty entertained.” 
“Who’s Daisy? Did she go to Hogwarts with you or something? I don’t recognise the name I’m afraid.”
“She’s the founder of The Leaky Caldron!” Cassiopeia intercepted brightly, pointing to her frame on the wall, “She got us free Butterbeer and books!”
Rolf let out a sound in protest, “What? Mum, why don’t I get free books?”
“Because I’m better than you,” Cassiopeia stuck her tongue out, before downing the rest of her Butterbeer. It was a shame, since it was so delicious, but it was worth it to see the look of utter defeat on Rolf’s face.
“Well, if you’re finished with your drink, Cassiopeia, how about we get going?” Celeste suggested, slinging her bag over her shoulder and standing. Cassiopeia was quick to follow, and in no less than 30 seconds were they heading for The Leaky Caldron’s exit. But, the door they’d passed through had only led to a crumbling brick wall. “Uh, mum? Isn’t this where they throw their rubbish? Why are we here? Where’s Diagon Alley?”
And that was when she saw it. From her purse, Celeste drew out what could only be her wand, and tapped it trice against a brick three up and two across from the left-most rubbish bin. She took a step back, and before their very eyes, the wall began to shift. The bricks broke apart, loose dirt crumbling to the ground as the wall completely split in half, opening to reveal an endless row of brightly coloured houses— shops, she soon realised.
“Woahh,” She breathed, her eyes endlessly scanning across the sight that lay before her. Hundreds of Witches and Wizards roamed the streets, dressed in intricately patterned cloaks and pointed caps, their shopping floating behind them, as if attached to an invisible string. And the magic… It was everywhere. Shop owners shooting mini fireworks from their wants, attracting crows with their wonders, and showering them with sweets, the possibilities are endless. Cassiopeia truly didn’t know how soon, she would be able to do the same, if not more (She wished for more, on every shooting star).
“Right then, where shall we head first? Perhaps Madam Malkins for their robes?” Celeste is quick to agree with Tina’s thinking, and they begin walking, passing by dozens of wondrous stores that Cassiopeia wished she could spend hours in, observing their trinkets and reading their books. She thought she’d caught sight of the ice cream parlour Rolf had mentioned, when they suddenly stopped in front of a magenta-coloured store, branded Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions in gold lettering. Two mannequins stood in the window display, dressed in peculiarly styled items (But they must have been all the fashion in the Wizarding World). She noticed her mother in particular eyeing off the maroon scarf wrapped around the female mannequin as they stepped into the store. A bell somewhere above, far beyond what Cassiopeia could see, rang out, notifying the store owner of their arrival.
“Coming!” A shrill voice called out, from somewhere deep within the store. It hadn’t looked that big from the outside, but now surrounded by cloaks, hats, and other finery, Cassiopeia could tell there was some form of magic allowing it to appear this way. Finally, a short, stocky woman appeared from in between the knee high boots and shoulder-long gloves. Her grey hair was neatly styled beneath her mauve pillbox hat, matching her dress and heels, of the exact same shade. She bore the friendliest smile as she greeted their group, immediately inquiring if they were after Hogwarts robes, “First year, I’m assuming? Oh, you’ll love Hogwarts, they were some of the best years of my life!”
Cassiopeia had tucked herself behind her mother upon entering the store, but at hearing the Witch’s words, she peeked her head out and grinned up shyly, “You went to Hogwarts?”
“Of course I went to Hogwarts! Nearly every Witch and Wizard you’ll meet in Britain attended Hogwarts! You see there’s a Wizarding school in almost every country, and Hogwarts is the one for us— Once of the more prestigious ones too, might I add.” Cassiopeia giggled at Madam Malkin’s bold words, already feeling more at home. “Well now, lets get you two fitted!” Turning to address their mothers she said, “If you’d like, you can step out to get a Firewiskey or two. I’ll make sure they get everything they need.”
“You don’t need to tell us twice!” Tina joked, giving Rolf a kiss goodbye on his head before dragging Celeste from the store. Once it was just the three of them, Madam Malkin escorted Cassiopeia and Rolf further into the store, past rows of gleaming dresses and fitted tuxedos until they reached a section filled to the brim of black robes, white blouses, plaid skirts, and grey trousers, all bearing the Hogwarts logo (She’d memorised it from her enrolment letter— She wasn’t sure how many sleeping dragons she would encounter, but she knew it never hurt to be prepared). 
“Alright, who wants to go first?” She questioned, looking between the two perplexed children, “To get fitted,” she amended, “For your uniforms.” Very unsubtly, Cassiopeia pushed Rolf forwards and up onto the circular platform, retreating backwards before he even had a clue of what was going on. His cries of protest were drowned out as Madam Malkin began to measure his head, chest, and calves, muttering different measurements to herself as she went along. Eventually, she remembered poor Cassiopeia, who had been left standing, “Oh, my dear! Please, take a seat on one of those chairs while you wait. We don’t want to tire you out so soon in your day!”
Cassiopeia was quick to comply, and not a minute after relaxing into the chair did the door ring open once more. This time, Madam Malkin did not rush for the door as she had for them, and only called out for them to follow her voice to the back room. Soon enough, two young girls appeared. They looked to be the same age, and both bore the same black eyes that looked as if they knew your hearts deepest desire, but the rest of their appearance could not be more different. The first girl had a heavenly glow to her skin, some natural tan that made her look as if she had been blessed by the sun. Her hair fell in natural waves of chocolate brown, and she held herself as if she was destined for greatness (They were like-minded, Cassiopeia thought). The other girl though, looked as if her life was slowly draining from her body. To the regular eye, it was hardly noticeable how her cacao brown hair didn’t shine as bright, and fell slightly straighter around her face. Most would not notice how her skin appeared paler, as if the sun did not love for her in the same way. Most would not notice how she did not hold herself as tall, how she fell in the others shadow. Most would not notice.
But Cassiopeia did. 
She smiled up at them as they stood side-by-side, unsure of if they should advance further into the room, or wait for their turn outside. “Hello,” she greeted, “I’m Cassiopeia.”
The shining girl was the first to make eye contact with her, sharing Cassiopeia’s shy smile, “I’m Daphne. Is it alright if my sister and I sit? Our mother’s just sent us in to get our Hogwarts robes.”
Cassiopeia shifted over on the couch, making room for the two girls, “Are you starting you first year as well?”
This time it was Daphne’s sister who responded, “It is. I’m Astoria, by the way. We don’t know that many people starting this year, so it’s really lovely to meet you.” She paused, “Are you with the boy being measured, or waiting your turn as well?”
“Both. That’s Rolf. He’s the only other Wizard I know starting at Hogwarts this year. Our parents are friends. Are you two twins?”
An uneasy look crossed Daphne’s face as she answered, “Yes, identical, although I’m guessing you noticed that.”
“I did,” she smiled, “But.  I don’t think I’ll have much trouble telling you apart at all.” 
Something like understanding flashed across Daphne’s face, but it was gone as quick as it had appeared, “Well that’s a relief. A lot of our friends—who have known us for years—still get it wrong. It’s infuriating!”
Cassiopeia laughed sympathetically. Whilst she couldn’t relate, she did know what it was like to constantly mess up twins, and it was no fun for either party. It was at that moment that Madam Malkin had finished measuring Rolf, and called Cassiopeia over. As she stood, she glanced back at the girls, “Perhaps we can sit together on the train to Hogwarts? I think we would make quite good friends.” She didn’t dare say it, but the latter half of her sentence was directed at Daphne. There was a sense of determination in the girl, and Cassiopeia wasn’t one to use other people, but she knew it would be valuable to have her as a friend. And that wasn’t to push Astoria to the side. The girl held her own quiet fire that possessed the strength of Fiendfyre, if only she nurtured it properly. There was something eating at her, infesting her blood. Cassiopeia could see it, as clear as day.
Almost as clear as how she knew she would be the one to help Daphne save her sister.
But with that, she left the pair, and stepped up onto the platform. Her measurements took nowhere near as long as Rolf’s had, and Madam Malkin had said her clothes would be sent to her before the start of the week (Which was good, as that gave Cassiopeia plenty of time to repeatedly try them on and imagine herself already at Hogwarts).

Stepping out of Madam Malkin’s was like a breath of fresh air for Cassiopeia. She hadn’t realised how stuffy it had been inside until she breathed in the pumpkin-scented air of Diagon Alley. Across the road, Cassiopeia and Rolf could see their mothers enjoying a cup of some hot drink, and laughing over a joke one of them had made. They quickly walked over, sliding into the two empty chairs at the table.
“Did you get your robes?” Celeste asked, observing the lack of bags on their persons.
“Madam Malkin said mine would be sent to me by Sunday night, I’m not sure about Rolf,” Cassiopeia returned, peering into the contents of her mothers drink (You couldn’t blame her, it smelled like the most heavenly mix of spices one could imagine).
“She said my robes would be delivered as soon as we got back, by one of the store’s owls.” Rolf agreed.
Cassiopeia’s eyes lit up with mischief, “Owls? What do you think Madam Malkin names her owls?” Tina audibly slumped backwards in her chair as Cassiopeia and Rolf started producing the most random names they could think of.
“Do you think they’re also puns? Like Edgar Allen Crow?”
“Ooh, what if they’re named after items in her shop! She could have one particularly bad behaved Owl she calls Seam Ripper!”
“Or Feather Duster!”
“Or even Owlbus Dumbowldore!”
“Ok, I think that’s enough, children,” Tina finally intercepted, her fingers pressed to her temples in exasperation, “How about we go get your school books, so you can read them and think of proper names for your animal familiars.”
“Do I get an animal familiar, mum?!?” Cassiopeia screeched with excitement, “Do I, do I?”
“We’ll see,” Celeste grinned, “If you two stop making those terrible bird puns!”
She would hold off for now, but only until she had her own familiar. Then it would be relentless. But regardless, they headed off back down the Alley, until they reached an emerald green establishment by the name of Florish & Botts. Inside, it was even more magnificent than anything she ever could have imagined. Books were stacked so high that many piled looked as if they were on the verge of toppling over. There were tomes the size of Cassiopeia’s doormat, and pocketbooks that looked like a fairy could use them with ease. The left wall was dedicated to ink pots of all different colours, and an array of quills to match. And if one was to look up, they would see books of fairytales and history flying, as if they were their own species of birds. She could have truly spent hours in there (How Ravenclaw of her), had she not have noticed how painfully bored Rolf looked (How… un-Ravenclaw of him). His eyes were constantly flitting back to the front door, back to the world that waited beyond, fingers twitching as their mothers tracked down their schoolbooks. She’d noticed the same actions from him when they’d been in Madam Malkins. She could only take it to mean that, because he was so used to hands-on learning, having to sit around doing nothing was difficult for him. But how would she be able to help him during the schooling year if she was in an entirely different class? What if Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws didn’t have the more theoretical classes together, like History of Magic and Astronomy? Maybe she would need to be sorted into Hufflepuff after all. To keep Rolf safe.
“Do you think Rolf and I could go off and look at the magical creatures books?” She asked innocently, blinking her eyes up at her mother. Celeste nodded back absent mindedly, too engrossed in her daughter’s booklist (And wondering where she was going to find Phyllida Spore’s One Thousand Magical Herbs & Spices).

The pair found the magical creatures books in the very place the expected them to me— In the outdoors, greenhouse expansion of the store itself. For many of these books, it looked as if they were simply alive. They weren’t moving, per say, but there was a different magic to them, Cassiopeia could see it. It swirled around each book in varying shades of shimmering gold, from the burnt orange you would find lingering in a sunset at the end of the world, to the faint shine of the sun from beyond the obstructing clouds.
“Now here… Here I could stay for a longer while,” Rolf mumbled, pure amazement shining in his eyes as he ran his fingers along a series of books specialising in the different birds of the Feldcroft Region.
“You reckon they have your dad’s books?”
“You want to find the one book we don’t need to buy from the store?” Cassiopeia’s eyes twinkled as he threw his hands up in surrender, “What a waste!”
“Don’t worry, I’m only joking! I wanted to find some books on all the different flying creatures of the Wizarding world!”
“Like… Jobberknolls?” Rolf squinted in confusion, “My dad wrote about them though. What do you need another one for?”
“Well yes, he did, but I need more details. Your dads is more generalised— If I find one specifically on what I’m looking for, there’ll be a whole world of new information!”
“…Right. It still feels like a waste of money though, my dad could just tell you anything you want to know.”
She calmly patted Rolf’s shoulder, “Start looking, buddy. Anything on Dragons, Thestrals, or other flying horses.” He rolled his eyes but regardless, went off looking. But you see, this had been a part of Cassiopeia’s plan. She already knew exactly what books she was looking for— Newt had referenced them as additional reading in his first book. She knew it would only take about two minutes before Rolf got distracted, and started looking at adorable images of Nifflers and Glumbumbles. She was extremely jealous, but there was always time later for her to do the same.
It didn’t take her long either to find the tome she had been looking for— It sparkled bluer than the midnight sky, and the gold lettering of the title was unmistakable for any other book. A Comprehensive Essay into the Winged Beasts of the Wizarding World: Dragons, Hydras, and More. Of course, she knew her mother wouldn’t entirely approve of this purchase on its own, so, after double checking to see that Rolf was still deeply entranced in his book on Kneazles, she ducked back inside. 
Taking a wild guess, she climbed up the winding oak staircase (it seemed endless), until she reached a room which looked like it had been submerged within the night sky. Had it have been dark outside, Cassiopeia would have truly believed that the store had been missing its roof. She wandered through the room, hardly taking her eyes away from the ceiling, and all the wonders it held, until—
“Ow! Watch where you’re walking!” Her head snapped down, her gaze startled as she stared at the boy she had just crashed into. Just like Daphne and Astoria, he too appeared as if he was beginning Hogwarts that September, his curly brown hair sweeping over his eyebrows as he half-glared up at her.
“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” She winced, anxiously cracking her knuckles. “Are you alright?”
He sighed, “Yeah I’m fine, just watch where you’re going.”
Cassiopeia couldn’t help but to shrug helplessly at him, “I meant to, but the ceiling of the night sky was just so beautiful, I just couldn’t drag my eyes away from it!”
He tilted his head, almost confused, “Have you never been in Florish and Botts before?”
“No, my mother’s never brought me,” She laughed, “She wouldn’t have been able to get me out again, without having to bring half the store with us. But she had to this time, for Hogwarts books and all.”
His gaze landed on the text neatly tucked under her arm, “I don’t remember that one being on the list.”
She grinned back sheepishly, “She let me wander off. I miight have abandoned my friend in the magical beasts section to come over here.”
“You like Astronomy?”
“I don’t not like it— I don’t know anything about it, and there is no book on that reading list that can even be used for that class! It simply won’t do.”
He tilted his head up, “I have a friend who loves Astronomy, I’m sure you two will get along great at Hogwarts. You hoping for Ravenclaw?”
Her smile fell, ever so slightly, “I was. But my friend, he’s going to be sorted into Hufflepuff, like his dad, and I can’t leave him.”
“Why not? Hogwarts is all about independence. And it’s not like you get to choose your house.”
“You don’t?”
“No, apparently there’s some sort of trial or test we’ve got to get through. I’m not worried though. Hogwarts has never had a reported death from the first night.”
“Now which one of us is hoping for Ravenclaw.”
They only managed to hold eye contact for half a second before they burst out laughing over their ridiculousness
“Cassiopeia? Are you up here? We’re ready to go!” 
Her eyes widened. She could hear her mother’s voice getting closer, and she’d spent too long talking to this strange boy that she’d missed her chance to find a book!
But the boy, seemingly noticing her panic, shoved the book he’d been reading into her hands, “It probably has enough relevant stuff to get you by. And then some— It’s highly recommended.”
She shot him a thankful look, mouthing thank you as she took off back down the staircase, “Coming, Mum!”

It had taken them long enough, but Cassiopeia had eventually been able to get both books (even though she was unsure what exactly, the book the boy had given her was, her mother hadn’t even double glanced at it’s cover).
But the achievement of winning out over her mother was only a temporary excitement, for soon their shopping was completed, and it was finally time for Cassiopeia and Rolf to get their very own wands.
You see, the inside of Ollivander’s was exactly what you would think it to be— Shelves lined cluttered with nothing but thing, rectangular boxes, and cobwebs stemmed from the deepest corners. But there, near the front of the shop, sat a simple desk with nothing more than a microscope, a lamp, and a bell. And the shopkeeper in question, was nowhere to be seen.
“Is he out on a lunch break or something, mum?”
“Not at all!” Celeste chuckled, “Just go on up and ring the bell. Then Ollivander will be right out.” She did as her mother had said, and picked up the brass instrument, cautiously swinging it. The sound that echoed out was much louder than she had expected, and she nearly dropped the ornament in surprise. But, from what must have been the back of the store, something began to move— A rickety ladder attached to one of the shelves, rolling towards them. On top stood a man with the most frizzled hair, who appeared to be a more mental version of Dumbledore. But his smile was kind, and he seemed to be exactly the right person Cassiopeia would wish to buy her wand from.
“Well, well, Twelve and a quarter inches, swishy, phoenix feather core and Black Walnut wood, if it isn’t the extraordinary Celeste Montgomery. Although, I’m assuming by the look of this young one, that is indeed no longer your name?”
Celeste’s mouth twitched upwards, the only sign of her joy in seeing Ollivander again, “Hello, old friend, it has been too long, hasn’t it? And yes, this is my daughter, Cassiopeia Abbot, and our company, Tina and Rolf Scamander.”
“Ahhh, I remember Newt. Thirteen and a half inches long, pliable, made of ashwood and mother-of-pearl. Powerful in it’s own way, his special request. But you…” He turned to Tina, waving his finger at her, “I never sold a wand to you.”
“I’m originally from the Americas,” She explained, “My wand was created by Johannes Jonker. With Oak and Wampus Cat hair.”
He nodded his head, as if almost understanding what she’d just said, “Yes, yes, Jonker was a good wandmaker. Shoddy at times, but you were given a good one— I can see it. But lets move on to these two. How about you first, Cassiopeia?”
Hesitantly, Cassiopeia stepped forward, waiting as Ollivander scoured the shelves of the store, searching for… She wasn’t too sure what, but he’d clearly found it by the time he returned with a burgundy painted box, a light brown wand inside. To Cassiopeia, it looked as if it was the most gorgeous thing ever. Ollivander looked as if her had doubts, “Ten inches, reasonably springy, Hawthorne wood, core devised from the tail hair of a Unicorn.”
She looked up at him, wondering what exactly she should do with it, “Is that my wand?”
He scoffed, shoving it into her hands, “Maybe, maybe not. We won’t know if it’s chosen you until you try it out.”
“And… How do I do that again?”
“Give it a wave of course! Are you sure your mother is Celeste Montgomery?”
She frowned, annoyed by the old man’s words, but did exactly as he had said. She gave the wand a small swish through the air, and almost instantly, the lighting fixture above her head shattered into a thousand pieces. She shrieked as the pieces came raining down on her, slamming her hands over her ears, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
But quicker than it had happened, the shards were already floating up, up, up, until they were reattached, and it was as if it had never broken in the first place, “That’s not unusual at all,” The old man spoke kindly, “In fact, it happens every time I hand a young Witch or Wizard like yourself the wrong wand. For the wand chooses the Wizard, and it is my job to find which one has chosen you, and which one has chosen your friend.”
And so they kept going, but wand after wand, it began dawning on Cassiopeia that perhaps, no wand had chosen her. Maybe she wasn’t destined for magic at all, she thought, after a gorgeous Ivory wood wand with a phoenix core had refused to even be held in her hand. She could see Ollivander becoming more and more defeated as well. Every time he dived back into his shelves, it took him longer and longer to re-emerge, but he was determined to succeed, “There has never been a Witch or Wizard I have been unable to give a wand to, young Cassiopeia, don’t you worry.”
But she was worrying. She was worrying, she she could see the anxiety slipping into her mother’s features, the twitchiness in Rolf’s body, the uncertainty in Tina’s smile. “Perhaps Rolf should go,” Cassiopeia suggested, wanting only a break from Ollivander’s relentless pursuit.
Ollivander found Rolf’s wand on the first go.
Dogwood, with a Unicorn tail hair in it’s core. He had waved it, and the ambiance of the room had instantly shifted— flowers stemming from the floorboards, new branches cracking through the long dead wood of the walls.
Tina and Rolf left to the store next door, saying they would get a head start on finding Rolf’s animal familiar, and without them, the room was too silent. Cassiopeia could hear her own shaky breath echoing throughout the room, as Ollivander kept bringing out wands, and she kept bringing absolute chaos to the room.
The front door turned into complete splinters.
Every single wand box knocked from the shelves.
Flowerpot after flowerpot destroyed to the point of no return.
And then Ollivander returned without a box.
There was a new look in his eye though, as he approached the poor girl, a new spark to his determination that she had not seen before. And then he did something unexpected.
He invited her to behind the counter. “I want you to walk through the shelves. Search for the wand that calls to you. I have a feeling this will work better than me making an even bigger mess on my workbench.”
From the way he spoke, she could tell this wasn’t something he did often— If ever, but regardless, she set off into the rows of wands that awaited her. She wasn’t really sure what she should be looking for, feeling for, because there was nothing. Nothing but a vast, empty space of numb nothingness. The shop felt like like an abyss, drained dry of it’s darkness until it was simply nothing.
It was only when she had gone down the twentieth row, full of violet painted boxes, that she finally closed her eyes, and stretched out her senses. At first, the nothingness remained, be she could feel an itching, a burning sensation at the back of her vision. Keeping her eyes squeezed shut, she turned around. She could almost visualise the light, a golden swirl through the shelves, leading her to some place new. Eyes still shut, she followed it, keeping one hand on the closest shelf, trusting in her small, hesitant shelves.
The golden light glowed brighter and brighter burning hotter, as if it was the sun itself, until the pain became too excruciating to bare. She flung her eyes open, breathing heavily as she took in her surrounds. She wasn’t sure exactly where in the store she had ended up, but she was surrounded by even more wand boxes, in various shades of brown. But where the other aisles had been labelled by wood type, and sorted into length and wand core on the inside, this row was entirely unlabelled. She was panicked, unsure of how she would find the one she’d been following. But she turned around, and there.
On the opposite shelf, in the midst of chestnut-brown boxes, sat one seemingly constructed from pure gold. She would have thought nothing of the pretty colour, for she had seen many like it when she had passed by the Cedar wood wands, but she knew this one was different.
Because this wand box, had her name written on it, in beautiful cursive.
Or it would have been her name, had it have spelt Abbot instead of Black.
Carefully, she reached up and slid the box off the shelf, pulling the lid off and revealing the wand within. The wood whilst still remarkably brown, held a greyish-white tone. Curving vine patterns snaked up the entirety of it’s main body, with flourishes around the top of the handle.
It slid seamlessly into the palm of her hand. 
It was perfect.
Just as she’d done a thousand times before, she waved the wand, still clutching the box and—
She was back in front of Ollivander. he had just finished placing each tested wand back into their boxes, when he looked up and physically jumped upon seeing her. “Did you—”
“I found my wand! It brought me here!”
His eyes fell instantly to the wand in her hand, and the box tucked under her arm, “Would you mind if I took a look at that?”
She reluctantly handed over her new wand, watching as he examined it under his looking glass, brow furrowed. After many minutes, he placed it down, and looked up at her, “Which shelf did you find this on?”
She shrugged, “I’m not sure. It wasn’t labelled, but it was surrounded by a bunch of brown wand boxes. I kind of walked there with my eyes closed, and then never really got the chance to look around. Why?”
He squinted back down at it, this time examining the box, “Because I don’t know what this wand is.”
Celeste had finally rejoined the conversation, having walked over just as her daughter said, “But it was really nice to me, and it has my name on it!”
Celeste froze, “What?”
Cassiopeia turned around, “Yeah, It says Cassiopeia! Obviously it’s a different Cassiopeia, since the last name says Black not Abbot—”
Celeste grabbed the box from her daughter, her face paling upon reading the inscription. “That’s—” She cleared her throat, letting go of her daughter, “The Black family is a very old Wizarding family, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a Cassiopeia at some stage. This probably belonged to her.”
“But still! It feels like fate!” Cassiopeia exclaimed, twirling around with her wand, causing brilliant gold sparks to burst through the room.
Ollivander adjusted his glasses, “Well, there’s no point denying it. That wand, whatever it is, has chosen your Cassiopeia. From my examinations, I can tell it’s magic shows high potential, but that is not a wand I made, and I cannot tell you anything about it. Even it’s length is unusual. Thirteen inches and a third. I only do quarters.”
Celeste sighed, “Well, we’ll get it, because there’s no way she’s letting me leave this store if we don’t, but we’ll pop back in later to see if we can figure it out, if that’s alright?”
“That gives me time to look into what it possibly could be. Would it be alright if I kept the box for now, do you think? It might give me some clue, or have some residue off the wood that will allow me to figure out what exactly it is.”
“Of course, anything you need to work it out.”
And so they paid, and went on their way.

Finally reuniting with Rolf and Tina inside the Magical Menagerie, Cassiopeia told Rolf everything that had happened with her wand. Regardless to say, he was flabbergasted beyond belief on how she could manage to find the one unlabelled, unknown wand in the store, and would not stop making jokes about how she had ‘Main Character energy,’ of which she knew she did not. The only upside so far she had fond to having a mysterious wand, was how easily she had been able to convince her mother to let her get a Cat and an Owl.
“I know the letter says or, but won’t it be so much cheaper to just buy me an Owl as well so I can send you letters as many times as I would like? Think of how much it would cost, to use one of the school Owls every single time I wish to speak to you!”
“But you don’t need a Cat as well, Cassiopeia. Just get one or the other.”
“You know I’m going to need a companion, mum! Something familiar to keep me grounded! Which one of us was always going on about meditation to keep me calm again? Because I think a cat would help very much—”
“Alright, fine. Go find your Owl and Cat. But you better not name it something ridiculous!”
Who was Celeste kidding? Cassiopeia would never name her Cat something stupid. Cats were of the upmost elegance, and the deserved names to match that.
Owls on the other hand… Well, her mother hadn’t said anything about ridiculous names for Owls, and Cassiopeia had been… inspired by her letters with Rolf. There was no way she was passing up this opportunity.

She found her owl with ease, a tawny Short-Eared Owl, a girl of course (Merlin would have to be reincarnated before she purchased a male pet. It was nothing personal, but she wanted someone she could trust.)
It had taken her only a couple (dozen) minutes to find her Cat after that, but when she did, she knew she was the one for her. The cat in question was a black Ragdoll Cat, with shining emerald eyes that had blinked up at her, full of curiosity and devotion. From the moment they had made eye contact, Cassiopeia knew this cat was hers. Why was it so much easier to find a Cat or an Owl than it was to find your wand?

But finally, their trip to Diagon Alley had come to an End. Cassiopeia had her robes, schoolbooks (and other miscellaneous items), her wand, a currently unnamed Ragdoll Cat, and her tawny Owl— which, unlike the cat, had in fact, promptly been named Queen Elizabeak (or to her mother’s knowledge, simple Elizabeth), for Rolf was her greatest source of inspiration, and she longed to (even more secretly) nickname her Owl Her Royal Fluffiness.

And then long had passed since they had waved off Rolf and Tina, as they returned home to prepare for their holiday abroad, and it was just Celeste and Cassiopeia. Having to wait until the next day to visit Gringotts was painstakingly boring for Cassiopeia, but they had closed for the night, and Celeste was beyond insistent that it was her bed time.
But Cassiopeia made sure they were right at the front door of Gringotts at it’s hour of opening the next day. She felt almost as if she was dragging her mother through the front hall (Despite Celeste being the one who knew where they needed to go) and after many attempts of trial and error, they had landed at the head desk, speaking to a cranky goblin whose name tag introduced him as Griphook. “Hello there!” She called out, craning her neck up to see over his incredibly tall desk, “Mister Griphook? We’re here to access a vault!” 
That had certainly caught his attention, his eyes narrowing as he asked, “Your vault?”
She frowned, “Not exactly— I didn’t open it, but Ms Dodderidge gave me the key to her vault, and said all that lay within belonged to me now.”
The goblin scoffed, but extended his hand, “Key?” She wordlessly passed it to him, watching as he inspected it from every angle, “Vault 17, eh? So you know the consequences of what will happen if your words are false?”
Cassiopeia hesitated. Daisy had not warned her of any consequences. Celeste was quick to step in, “Daisy gave her vocal consent to have access to the vault. You do not have to worry, I assure you.”
That seemed good enough for Griphook, as he stepped down from behind his desk, and unlocked the ancient iron gates behind him. “Well come on then. I haven’t got all day.” 
Cassiopeia hurried to follow him, but stopped when she noticed her mother was not following her, “Mum?”
Cassiopeia smiled back, “You’ll be in safe hands with Griphook, m dear. He’s worked here since I was your age, and I trust him to keep you safe.”
“But why aren’t you coming?”
Celeste laughed, “I’m afraid their carts and my stomach don’t get along too well, love. But here,” Celeste stepped forward, slipping a shiner key into Cassiopeia’s palm, “Get Griphook to take you to our vault as well— Vault number 711. It might have a bit more security, but it’ll let you in. Grab a few handfuls of Galleons, and half a bag each of Sickles and Knuts, and that should do us well.”
Cassiopeia was hesitant to head further into Gringotts without her one sense of familiarity, but she told herself it would be good for when she got to Hogwarts, and henceforth followed Griphook behind the gates. “Vault 17 and Vault 711, please Griphook. I have the keys for both.”
He nodded, taking the second key from her, and led her to a cart stuck to a railroad track, “To reach Vault 17, we’ll have to take two or three different carts, since it’s so far down, but it should be a relatively smooth ride. Just jump on in and we’ll head off.”

She wasn’t sure what Griphook’s definition of ‘bumpy’ was, if he’d considered any of those cart rides ‘smooth’, but suffice to say she was beyond relieved when they finally reached Vault 17. Standing outside its door, Griphook handed her back the key, “You’ll have to put this one in, I’m afraid. The magic won’t recognise me as an owner, but if you’ve been given consent and authority over this Vault, it will open for you.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“You’ll probably die,” Griphook replied nonchalantly, “Now go ahead. You and I both have places to be, you know.” She grimaced, but walked closer to the door, holding her breath as she inserted the key, and twisted it. A series of clicks ensued, and after far too long, the door finally swung open.
Cassiopeia had expected, for some reason, to see a fair deal of money lying in the vault, but that was not the case at all. There once might have been such riches, she hypothesised, but the Vault present day resembled an antiques room that shone brighter than the Crown Jewels. In one corner lay a circular table that Cassiopeia was sure could fit the entirety of King Arthur and his Knights (Maybe it was his table?) and countless boxes of jewellery adorned its surface. She knew that wasn’t what Daisy had sent her here for, but she couldn’t help but to admire them. After all, Daisy had said everything in here belonged to Cassiopeia now, right? The first box she opened showed an array of bracelets, but right at the bottom, she saw one which looked almost iridescent, with tiny gems which looked as if they couldn’t decide between being diamonds, amethysts, or sapphires. She slid the bracelet on to her wrist, and gasped with excitement as it shifted to fit her perfectly. The metal solidified to a white gold, and the gem almost magically deciding to become a lavender amethyst. It was perfect. She looked back at Griphook, who had not stepped into the Vault, “I won’t die or something, if I take this?”
He scoffed, “The only sort of magic that can be placed on a vault as old as this is to decide if someone can rightfully enter. You bear the original key to this vault girl, and with that, everything rightfully belongs to you.”
She grinned, looking back down at the bracelet glinting on her wrist before shutting its box. She left everything else in its place, and headed over to the oval mirror Daisy had told her about. At the very base of the mirror, lay a stack of five books held together with twine, just as Daisy had foretold. She knelt down by them, tracing her finger across the gold embossing of the cover, as she looked for the title of the first book.
But there was none. None of the books bore a title, an identifying mark. Perhaps they were diaries? Or magically enchanted for secrecy? Regardless, Cassiopeia tucked the stack under her arm, and lifted herself up,  but as she did, she caught sight of herself in the mirror’s reflection. She looked different. It could have been the mirror warping her sense of reality, but there was something off, something not right. She peered closer, observing every aspect of her reflection, every inch of her face. She looked the same on the surface, she realised. But there was something in her reflection’s eyes, in the way she held herself… She looked regal. Powerful.

It took them thirty more minutes to travel from Daisy’s Vault to Cassiopeia’s, collect the gold, and return to the surface, and for all of those thirty minutes, Cassiopeia could not stop thinking about the version of herself she had seen in the mirror. Too many people had spent the last few weeks trying to tell her what to be, and who to be friends with. She wanted to choose for herself. She wanted to be that girl she saw in the mirror.
She brought it up with Daisy, when she saw her that afternoon, “I got the books from your vault you asked me to grab, Daisy, but the mirror they were below… When I looked into it, there was something different about it. I looked different.”
This had intrigued Daisy, “How so?”
“I don’t quite know how to explain it, really, but I looked more confident, like I knew what I was doing. Like I’m a proper Witch.”
“That particular mirror has no magical properties,” Daisy confided, “Was there anything else you took before hand in the Vault?” Cassiopeia hesitated, but Daisy was quick to continue, “I don’t mind if you did. I’d rather you had it all than that loaf Tom, but there was a fair deal of jewellery in there that could have done something like that.”
Cassiopeia raised her wrist, showing Daisy the bracelet, “I only had a brief look through one of the boxes, but this one was just so pretty I couldn’t help myself.”
Daisy leaned closer, “I remember that bracelet! I guess this might be your first history lesson.” She tilted her canvas to face Cassiopeia, showing an intricately painted map of what could only be Hogwarts and the surrounding Hinterland, “Modern day Hogwarts is closest to a town called Hogsmede— They’ll let you go to Hogsmede from your third year, with permission of course. But when I was at Hogwarts, Hogsmede was young—  Hengist of Woodcroft had only founded the Village a century or three earlier. Instead, we were given the option to row a boat to the village of Aranshire across the Great Lake— Or the Black Lake as… some prefer to call it, or walk to the local village in Lower Hogsfield. Most students preferred Aranshire, since it was harder for professors to keep track of them, but my closest friend was absolutely terrified of spiders, and Aranshire was full of the things. The good thing about the Hamlet of Lower Hogsfield though, was it was far easier for traders to visit from the Southern villages, and they tended to be richer. That’s where families like the Rookwoods or the Morganarchs lived.”
“But what does that have to do with anything?” Cassiopeia was beyond confused about where Daisy was heading with this, but the portrait was quick to cut her off.
“Because families like the Rookwoods, had access to enormous magical repositaries, with strong magical currents that they quickly discovered could be imbued into objects, to boost their own magical abilities. That’s how that bracelet was made. My friend and I got matching ones, even. It took us a while to figure out exactly what it’s magic did, but ultimately we decided it was some sort of enhancer, of our magic, our courage, our looks— Honestly, whatever we needed more of in any given situation.” Cassiopeia gazed down at the bracelet in a whole new light as Daisy switched subject, “But if you have those books, then we can get started.”
“What exactly are the books for? They’re unlabelled.”
“They’re imbued with the same magical currents as that bracelet, just with different properties. I want you to use two of them, the emerald green and burgundy, for note taking— History of Magic and Potions. They hold a magic that is perfect for memorisation and organisation, anything written within their pages will remain in your memory for as long as the book remains undestroyed.”
“But what happens if the book gets destroyed?”
“You’ll still remember the content, I suppose, but like a regular memory it will fade over time without rehearsal, so that being said, don’t rely on your transactional memory. Continuing on, the amethyst book bears the same properties— Use this one for every incantation you learn across Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, even Herbology and Potions. Draw the wand movement as well.”
Cassiopeia furrowed her eyebrows, “But you can’t learn something entirely off the theory!”
“Of course not!” Daisy scoffed, “But it will sure make the practical component much easier, if you’re able to remember how to perfectly remember every spell, don’t you think?”
“I guess…”
Daisy sighed, “I’m not going to force you to use the books, Cassiopeia, but this will give you the advantage over your classmates that you should have had, if your mother had raised you properly, and not as if you were a Muggleborn. Your an immensely bright girl, and I won’t let your lack of prior knowledge be your downfall.”
Cassiopeia had to admit the painter had a point, and urged her to continue explaining about the books, “The mustard yellow one is the only other of any significance to you at this time. I have a matching copy right here,” She pointed to a leather bound notebook resting against her easel, “And the imbued magic means the two are linked. Anything you wish to talk to me about or ask me about whilst you’re at Hogwarts, simply write it in your notebook, and it will appear mine for me to write back to you.”
That would come in handy, Cassiopeia knew, “But what about this blue one?” For Daisy had explained every book except for the last, a glittering sapphire blue, hidden away at the bottom of the pile.
“That one,” Daisy acknowledged, “Is for you to decide.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s never entirely worked for me. When I bought it, I was told that it’s magical property could change, depending on what it’s owner most desired. I always had a knack for ambiguous objects, you might have noticed. So that one’s for you to figure out. Although, after what Ollivander told me about the peculiar girl named Cassiopeia Abbot he couldn’t find a wand for yesterday, I have a feeling it will know what to do for you.” She smiled down at the shy girl, “Now, I think it’s best we start at the very beginning… Before Hogwarts, before any Goblin Rebellion, or the Salen Witch Trials, to the very first Witches and Wizards of our world…”

And so every day, Cassiopeia sat by the circular table in front of Daisy’s portrait, and learnt everything there was to know about the Wizarding World— From Emeric the Evil, to the Salem Witch Trials, to the first Wizarding War and Grindelwald, to the rise of Dumbledore (and his quarrel with the Ministry of Magic), all the way to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Daisy was beyond excited to speak of how he had defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (A dark Wizard named Voldemort) when he was just a baby, and how he was finally starting at Hogwarts that very year— He’d passed through the Leaky Caldron on one of the few occassions Cassiopeia had been out wandering Diagon Alley, but the gossip was to be discussed for days to come.
Cassiopeia and her mother returned to Ollivander’s numerous times over the following weeks as well, hoping he would have some answer as to what her wand was, and where it had come from. But every time, they left knowing nothing more than what they had to begin with. Ollivander had suggested they attempt reaching out to any member of ‘The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black’, but Celeste had been adamant in her refusal, “They’re a bunch of no good Wizards, Ollivander. Death Eaters, murderers, and Blood Supremacists. We will gain nothing from speaking to them.” And so they didn’t. The properties of Cassiopeia’s wand remained a mystery, and it appeared it would stay that way for evermore.