Alternate RP Magic? Surely, You're Mistaken.

[Aine Thompson]

((set before the start of Y40))

Aine Thompson was decidedly ordinary.

She was eleven, and exceedingly plain. Small, mousy and pale. No sporting ability to speak of (a grave disappointment in sport-mad regional Victoria), a propensity to talk too much and hyperfocus on interests that seemingly nobody else shared, and a permanently sullen expression that suited her lonely nature. Easily forgotten about. A wallflower, camouflaging herself in to the classroom and keeping her mouth shut so as not to invite more ridicule. The unintended fourth child and certainly bound to be the least successful.

Perhaps the advantage of being fourth is that you had no expectations. At eleven, she already knew her place in the world. She would be sent to a good school, as her siblings all had, she would disappoint her parents by failing to be named a prefect (one typically required popularity for that), then she'd go become an accountant or something respectable and dull in the hope that she could marry someone equally as respectable yet dull. Any land would go to her brother, as the western districts were a backwater and right of inheritance still favoured sons, even now. As the last child, and the third daughter, there would be very little for her. Not that it would matter for many years, at least.

It was sad that an eleven year old already had this perception of the world, but her elder sisters were beautiful and venomous, and reality was cruel. She heard the nasty things that her classmates had repeated, snarky comments awful parents had made about how the young girl was a bit of a disappointment.

So even at so young an age, she found herself drawn to the antique store in town that had seemingly sprung up out of nowhere one day. The owner was an oddity, a woman who seemed somewhat ethereal and yet was incredibly grounded to speak to. She didn't brush Aine off when she started speaking, even when it was likely about something of no interest to her. By the same token, she didn't dumb down her speech to treat her like a child, speaking frankly (and in language she knew she ought not repeat, but repeated all the same - it wasn't like it was anything she hadn't heard before, after all). Aine would ask about certain oddities and it seemed like the woman was holding something back, but would give her answers that seemed vaguely unsatisfactory and she wasn't quite sure why.

Still, she'd let Aine sit in the back room and lose herself in old novels every afternoon, occasionally asking her for some help around the place (be it a bit of tidying, or arranging a stack of old dolls in a way that looked nice, or checking some emails) and sliding her a $20 bill over the counter on those days by way of thank you. Not that there was much you could do with cash anymore, but the bakery at least still insisted upon it, so she'd be able to reward herself with sugary donuts and pies and sausage rolls. It gave her a place to be on weekends if she wasn't helping out on her granddad's farm in lambing season and it was nice, thought Aine, to have an adult around that seemed to respect her. Didn't pity her for being so mediocre and miserable, just seemed to appreciate the company.

For Aine, she supposed that she'd settled in to a peaceful routine for once. Sure, she'd probably be forced to go to a boarding school closer to Melbourne out of a need of status (more than whether or not the school would be good for her), but for now she had a casual routine of going to school and then hanging out at the antiques store until she was forced to go home to hide in her room. Perhaps it was odd, perhaps it was lonely, but it worked for her just fine.

And then, of course, the Ministry official showed up at her door, and Aine Thompson was no longer ordinary.

 

[Violet Bellamy]

"So. Going to Hogwarts, are you?"

It was phrased as a question, but clearly it wasn't. The one good thing about this hideous, backwater town she'd hid herself out in was the kid - and she could tell from a glance she was a witch. Maybe she didn't realize it herself, and Violet had been biting her tongue whenever Aine asked about any of the stranger items in the shop. But she'd noticed. It was just little things every now and then. She probably didn't even realize she'd accidentally made things levitate while she was reading in the back room.

She'd met a few kids like Aine along the way. Most of them didn't end up going to Hogwarts - choosing to learn a few spells by homeschooling while continuing their muggle education. They were too strongly tied to their homes, or had too much going on in the muggle world to drop that completely and go on to Hogwarts. Violet had been pretty approving of that, though she knew that was her own bitterness speaking.

Aine, though - there was a kid who probably needed Hogwarts. If it didn't crush her. She'd probably needed it herself, but she'd screwed herself over in her last years. She leaned back in her chair, looking the girl over with a stoic look.

"Do you actually want to go?" She didn't mean to sound sarcastic, but somehow it just happened whenever she spoke about Hogwarts. Maybe being in this awful town was making it worse. She'd have to move on sooner or later. "It's your choice."

 

[Aine Thompson]

Aine was stunned, as she had been for about the past twenty hours. Magic was real? She was a witch? This magical ministry was telling her to go to a school in New Zealand? Her parents were still unconvinced, thinking it was some sort of elaborate prank. Of course, thought Aine, of course she'd be even more weird than everyone already thought she was. Couldn't hold a conversation with her classmates, annoyed her teachers with curiosity and a desire to be liked. No interest in playing sport, the greatest sin of all.

And now it seemed like the woman she'd befriended was a witch too. At least, that's how she interpreted it. Maybe she was wrong.

"How do you know about Hogwarts?" she ended up asking, after being stunned for a good 20 to 30 seconds. "Also, what the heck? What do you mean do I want to go or not? It's a mistake, isn't it? There's no way I'm a witch." She'd always thought it would be pretty cool to do magic, but now she was starting to have her doubts. As much as she wanted to live in a fantasy world where she was pretty and powerful there was no basis for it in reality. "A mistake, or a weird prank. Where's the camera crew hiding?"

 

[Violet Bellamy]

The denial, the anger, she'd seen it before. She couldn't blame them - it did sound pretty farfetched. To deny it outright was dangerous, however. One needed to be able to control that side of them if they were blessed (or cursed, as it may be) with magic. Not that that would calm a confused and upset eleven year old. Life was unfair to muggleborns. They had their whole concept of the world shattered at such a young age for a world that a notable subsection of still saw them as lesser.

"I went there, of course." She gazed at her with an almost bored expression, calm in the face of Aine's hysteria. "A lifetime ago. Could well be a very different place now." Though I doubt it - wizards hate change. "And you are a witch, kid. Probably don't even realize it, but you are. Ministry may be inefficient, but they don't get these things wrong. Or there'd be hell to pay." She looked around carefully, making sure that nobody was around, before pulling a wand out of her coat - she'd sewn a pocket on the inside specifically for that purpose. "See, look. Accio painkillers." She waved her wand in the direction of her desk, watching carefully as the drawer opened and her packet of painkillers flew towards her. "Let me know if the whole damn thing is giving you a headache." She took a sip of her coffee, wincing as she realized she'd let it get too cold. "Bah, can't even reheat the bloody thing. Just doesn't taste the same."

 

[Aine Thompson]

Aine spluttered a couple of times, shaking her head. "You just drop that and then go talk about your coffee? Just like that?" She was a storm of emotions in a small package. Anger, confusion, anxiety, and down in the midst of it all, a little bit of excitement and hope. Hope that maybe she could be special and interesting. That she wasn't destined to be boring and forgotten and a disappointment.

Of course, being a witch was hardly the kind of respectable career that would garner approval from her family or from anyone they were trying to impress. "Of course it's giving me a headache!" she realized her voice was getting louder and louder, and drew in a deep breath, not wanting to make too much of a scene. It had been impressed upon her not to speak of the whole magic thing - Vi had brought it up, at least, but she'd had to hold her tongue for anyone else. She blinked a few times, realizing some tears were starting to squeeze out and threaten to spill. Swearing under her breath, she wiped at her eyes aggressively, probably making it all worse.

"What am I 'sposed to do. I'm eleven." She sighed, deeply, trying desperately not to cry. "I liked it more when mum and dad ignored me. Now they're like...nosy. Want me to show magic and stuff. But also say I can't talk about it? I dunno. I hate this. I can't do magic anyway."