Chapter Text
Chapter 3
“So… I’m a wizard? I mean, I know I’m a wizard, but like, I’m telling you that I am a wizard, so you don’t have to be so tense…” Newt Scamander stammered.
Sally was still staring at him like he was an asylum escapee.
“So you don’t have to worry about your daughter because it’s perfectly normal… I’m assuming you're a muggle…” He trailed off, looking more and more uncomfortable as time ticked on. “Muggle as in non-magical, not as…”
Scamander's eyes left them, angling towards his feet instead as his brief burst of confidence evaporated into thin air. He gazed despondently at the ground, as if hoping for it to open up and spirit him away from this bane to all socially inept people slash painfully strained situation.
Sally was speechless, stuck between flight and fight, ready to flee, yet unable to due to her shock over the utter bizarreness that had taken over her life in this instant. And maybe also due to a tiny bud of hope that tentatively bloomed in her soul.
Scamander scooted backwards. Clearly ready to run for it, before freezing as his eyes landed on Essie. His stance strengthened, as he seemingly regained his confidence, or maybe his resolve as he concluded that the “poor,” “pitiful,” mother and child that were so obviously out of their depth, needed his help.
Meanwhile, as her mother and the newly minted Potterverse British wizard held their awkward stare-off, Essie was in the midst of an existential crisis.
This was just awesome. Another fandom piled atop of another fandom. What next? She would find out that Twilight exists? That there were bloodthirsty vampires, and werewolves, and doppelgangers, and what not running around the US?
That there were ability users going their merry way around their world? Oh, maybe someday from now a titan - not PJO titan, AOT titan - would pop up and start feasting on humans. Or maybe when - if - she joins camp half-blood, she would find herself in this weird demigod parallel universe where gods were demigods and demigods were gods.
Probably not, considering the fact that she was nearly a hundred percent sure that Poseidon was a god and that she was a demigod. If she was a god, then she was not a very godly god. Was it possible to not know one's own species?
Maybe - hopefully - in this weird, obviously canon-diverged universe, Zeus was a sweetheart who loved his nieces and nephews. And that Hades was a loving uncle family man who showered his relatives in affection and guidance.
Yeah, her luck was, ten to one, not good enough for that.
As it was, during her spiral, her mother had snapped out of her daze and had come to the judgement that Scamander was not a threat.
“A wizard?” Sally tested.
Scamander perked up. Essie could “see” a holographic pair of ears twitching in joy atop his head.
“Yeah! There’s this society of …magical people.”
“And you’re a part of it?”
He nodded. Sally narrowed her eyes at the little greenish branch that was now almost fully out of Scamander’s pocket. He blinked in surprise as he followed her gaze over to his pet.
“Oh! This is Pickett! He’s a bowtruckle!”
“A bowtruckle?” It was impressive how her mother managed to sound both open-minded and judgemental at the same time.
“Yes!” Scamander beamed, finally in his element as he launched into an explanation of magical creatures and where to find them, even including tidbits of how to care for them.
Sally followed along contemplatively. Her gaze dropped to her daughter as she felt a plan, a completely unhinged scheme that would go against everything Poseidon stood for, but a feasible one nonetheless, form in her mind.
“And are magical people only found in America?” She questioned, already suspecting the answer but needing confirmation anyways.
Scamander paused. He looked at them like he had just remembered that they existed. “Oh ye- I mean no. Magical people are present everywhere, in every country and every region.”
Sally smiled.
Yes, she had a plan. A simple, easy plan that would get both of them out from under the eyes of the gods.
There was hope for her daughter after all.
Essie would not be the one to fulfill the prophecy. No, her daughter would be safe and sound.
Away from the gods and their influence and hiccups.
And there was not a single thing Poseidon could do to stop her.
“So, is there a particular reason you want to escape this country so badly?” Scamander shifted uneasily, his anxiety pouring out of him in restless waves.
“No.” Sally hummed. “Just felt like a change in scenery is due. It isn’t a problem is it?”
“No! Of course not.” He hurriedly reassured, “It’s probably better this way. Or well, not better, just-”
Sally laughed, cutting off his increasingly panicked tirade. She smiled warmly at him. “Thank you for this.”
“Ah… N- no problem.” He stuttered out, abashed. His eyes flickered towards his feet, a blush creeping up his neck.
Essie watched on in deadpan.
For the past few days, she had watched her mother subtly manipulate Newt Scamander into giving them free lodging, free food, security and protection. On top of that, her mother had even gotten him to agree to easing their transition into another - a whole other - world.
Oh well, at least the critters were cute. Now if only she had a dragon. That would boost her aura by so much.
Speaking of wooing Scamander. Was he not married? It was the year 1997, way past the time of Grindelwald, past the time of Harry Potter now that she was thinking about it. Based on the Harry Potter timeline, Scamander would - should - be an old man.
In that case, was the Harry Potter universe pushed back? If Newt Scamander was this young, then did that mean that Grindelwald and that whole disaster thing has not happened yet? How did that work though, because she was pretty sure that the World Wars had already commenced.
Unless in this universe, the wars were not related?
That theory held merit. In the PJO universe, World War II was caused by a fight between the demigod children of Zeus, Hades and Poseidon. In the Potterverse, the wizarding war happened alongside the muggle one, and both sides heavily influenced each other…?
Essie was not too clear on the specifics, especially since that was way before Harry Potter’s time.
Point was that both timelines clashed.
Honestly speaking, she should just forget all her previous knowledge and just roll with it. Her “foreknowledge” was clearly unreliable in this spectacularly chaotic mess that was clearly going to be her new life.
Nothing made sense in this warped dimension. Timelines intertwined and wove around each other like yarns after being massacred by kittens, and she would not know how much has changed until - unless - she has actually experienced it for herself. Something she was not looking forward to.
Maybe she should drop by Number 4 Privet Drive and see whether she could spot a Potter wandering about. That would give her a pretty good grasp on the Harry Potter timeline - if he appeared that is.
If he was not there, then it could be due to millions of reasons such as not being born yet, too old, too young, a different set of parents entirely, or parents survive, or having a twin that got all the glory and etc.
Grumbling, Essie scowled into nihility.
The niffler she was petting flopped over onto its back, nudging at her with its snout.
Essie acquiesced to its non-verbal demands, scratching its chin indulgently.
“Essie sweetheart.” Her mother’s warm voice enunciated. “Are you hungry?”
Right on cue, her stomach grumbled.
“Dinner’s ready!” Scamander chimed in happily.
Wrestling food from misbehaving pets was something she had never experienced before and something she never wanted repeated. Though after days of this rhyme and rhythm she had finally gotten the hang of it.
Poor niffler did not like the cage.
Scamander, torn between pity - towards his beloved friend - and pride - over Essie’s “genius,” aka her speed at mastering her “magic,” decided to remain a neutral spectator to the spat.
Sally smiled in bemusement. She had a lot to get used to.
After various tedious bureaucratic processes - most of which Essie slept through -, they ended up here, in Paris, France. The city of love. A name she thought was frankly, undeserved.
She felt no love here. The only thing she felt was exhaustion, grumpiness and intimidation from huge, stocky buildings. European style, old buildings. Smeared with age, fading - and clashing - colours, that might have had their charm once upon a time.
Not to mention that it stunk. Not as badly as New York but still. She did not feel the magical, lovey-dovey vibes.
She felt nauseous. And faintly sick. And her head spun. She blamed the long-distance portkey.
“You alright, sweetheart?” Her mother asked, looking slightly queasy herself.
Scamander had dropped them off at the portkey international travel place or whatever it was called and then went off to chase his creatures. Not that Essie minded. Her mother did not either.
Especially since Scamander had promised correspondence.
On the bright side - not -, she had a pet niffler now. She wanted a dragon. Or a basilisk. Or a phoenix or occamy. Or a penguin. Not this annoying bugger who kept messing up her hair!
Get off you gremlin! She - telepathically - yelled at her new… acquisition. Of course the niffler did nothing but blink large eyes at her, before going back to shredding her hair.
She did not understand its obsession with her hair. She thought nifflers liked gold, jewels and stuff, not human hair!
It was unfortunate that the niffler passed the test. She would have thought that those stuffy officials would confiscate it but no, that did not happen. She supposed that they also did not want to deal with …that.
Essie shot an absolutely disdainful look at the niffler nosing at her.
Sally’s lips twitched in amusement as she watched her daughter struggle against her new friend. Shaking her head slightly, she leaned down and plucked the niffler off of Essie.
“So, what are you going to name him?” Sally asked, caressing the niffler gently. The niffler did not appreciate that and continued squirming around.
Essie tilted her head. “Annoying buffoon.”
Mirth filled her mother’s eyes. “Now that’s not nice is it?”
“Well he is not nice!” Essie jabbed a finger at him pointedly.
Sally threw her head back and laughed, her grip on the niffler loosening enough for him to escape. And so, Essie ended up with a head full of niffler and irreparable hair damage.
“Shall we get going?” The bored, monotone voice belonging to one of those ministry people droned.
Sally nodded and guided Essie along. And so, the four - including the niffler - of them started making their way through “muggle” Paris and towards “Magical” Paris, Place Cachée. A shopping district. And somewhere they could, hopefully, spend the night.
Yanking the niffler out of her hair, Essie wrestled it into submission.
Peering skeptically at it, she conducted its first, thorough examination. The niffler was normal-looking, for a niffler. It had soft, dark hair and a peach coloured beak that vaguely resembled a platypus. Its paws were slightly webbed and pink.
She flipped it over and continued on her path of scientific discovery.
Yeah, there was nothing …distinguishing about it.
She poked its head. “Since you're so boring, I’ll just call you Black. Actually no, never mind. Not Black. That name is already taken. Kuroi then. Still black but not taken.”
“Oh?” Sally questioned. “What language is that?”
“Japanese.”
Sally looked at her daughter in puzzlement. “Since when do you know Japanese?”
Essie hummed nonchalantly. “Since I was born.” Which was not a lie, since it was technically the truth.
Poor Sally was even more confused. Poseidon was Greek. Not Japanese. Was this a godly thing?
“Hey!” The ministry worker yelled, finally realising what was going on next to him. “What are you doing?! We’re in muggle, MUGGLE Paris! No magic!”
He waved his arms frantically, snatching the niffler away and practically stuffing it into a bag that he had procured out of nowhere.
Kuroi yowled in aggrievement. Scratching at the bag in indignance.
The ministry officer hurriedly scanned their surroundings, searching for disbelieving expressions or curious wandering glances. He found nothing but stumbling drunks and people who did not give a single damn. Sighing in relief, he wiped the sweat off his temples and shoved the wiggling niffler bundle into Essie’s arms.
“Rule number one! Absolutely no showing anything remotely magical!” He snapped.
Letting the bundle dangle from her fingertips, Essie’s eyebrows furrowed in mock befuddlement. “He doesn’t seem at all magical.”
“You-”
Sally inspected the scene with pride, watching her four year old daughter completely decimate a man more than thrice her age.
Now that was her daughter.
She was going to be so much trouble.
May hell rain down upon anyone who wished her ill.
And if it does not, well then Sally herself would make them know why a mother’s boundaries should never be tested.