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Chapter Text

Prelude

Born of magic and eternal hope,

Of endless waters and tides that roam.

The ocean’s power coursed through her veins,

The song of the deep stirs and wanes.

A cacophony of storms, vicious and wild,

Howling and raging, free and unbound. 

Flowing like water, churning with ease,

Drifting softly, a gentle breeze.

The child of the sea, a volatile soul,

A mirror to the ocean’s own turbulent role.

Waves of passion in her depths unfold,

Mesmerising eyes reveal a heart of gold.

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

The first thing she realised was that she was out of her comfy warm cocoon. The second thing she realised was that it was loud. Really loud. The third thing she realised was that she was the source of all that loudness. 

Blinking hazily up at the ginormous blurry apparitions, she toned down her cries. Her senses sharpened, taking in her surroundings. 

Everything was white. The ceilings, the walls, and the clothes of the apparitions that floated around her. 

She was being held by a figure. 

A rustling sound was heard somewhere to her left, before something white appeared in the periphery of her vision. The object was handed over to the figure, who then proceeded to use it to wipe and swaddle her. They were gentle, but it still grated on her skin.

It sent her into another crying fit. 

The apparitions cooed at her, singing and humming softly - attempting to soothe her. Their efforts were noteworthy, but unfortunately, it did nothing to dull the pain in her skin and lungs. 

Everything hurt.

The fabric tugged at her skin. Itching, irritating. Burning. A rough solid surface against her soft skin that had only ever before been caressed by fluffy tissue and warm liquid.

Her lungs felt like they were on fire. The air was painful, sandpaper against the delicate membrane of her lungs. It scratched at her, tearing, nails dragging against a spongy surface. Her cries further exacerbated the pain, yet the pain further exacerbated her cries, leading into a never-ending cycle. 

She did not like this. This new environment she had found herself in was uncomfortable. She hurt. She was in pain. All the flurrying movements around her did nothing but to confuse and overwhelm her.

Her senses were going crazy. Overloaded by new information. All the stimulus that was absent in her dark, warm, quiet cocoon, was present in this new strange world. People were speaking, machines were beeping and thunder roared from somewhere in the distance.

The lights flickered up ahead, adding to the disorientation. 

How did she get here? Where was she? What was going on? So many questions, not enough answers. It felt like she was drowning even though she was out of her aqueous enclosure. 

What-

“Give her to me.” A gentle but firm voice broke through the storm - an anchor in the middle of the abyssal endless ocean. 

She felt hands, many of them passing her around, her centre of gravity changing multiple times before she was finally placed in welcoming arms. Embraced so snuggly surrounded by that familiar scent and soothing heartbeat, for the first time since this started, she felt like she would be all right. That she was all right.

Everything quieted. Sounds faded into white noise, the particles chafing at her skin and lungs grew less discomforting, and her eyes finally focused. She blinked, drool leaking out of her mouth as she stared at the beautiful woman who cradled her like she was the most precious thing in the entire universe.

She had warm brown hair the colour of chocolate and eyes that reflected the clear summer sky. Her smile was gentle and filled with so much love. 

“Elesteria.” The woman murmured, her adoration dripping from every syllable. “Freedom. Free to be whatever you want to be. Never to be chained, never to be trapped. Running wild, swimming free. Drifting along the ocean’s breeze.”

The woman’s words echoed in her brain as the last piece of the puzzle slid into place. 

The woman was her mother. 

She had been …Reborn?

The woman - her mother? - gently traced a finger over her features, booping her nose and laughing softly. “You have his eyes.”

Eyes? Whose eyes? Her father’s?

“I’ll keep you safe. No harm shall befall you with me to shield you.”

Elesteria gazed back at her affectionately, gurgling cheerfully in reply.

Closing her eyes, she drifted off to sleep, once again succumbing to darkness’s embrace. 

The last thing she felt was her mother softly rocking her, a dreamy lullaby enshrouding her protectively. 

“Goodnight.”

Elesteria, or Essie as her mother had taken to calling her, was a well behaved baby. Her mother fussed over her a lot, worried over her placidness. She did not know why though. After all, easy to take care of babies was every parents dream, no?

She saw no reason to make things more difficult for her new mother. She was obviously struggling, her father was nowhere to be seen, and it was not like Essie herself was an actual newborn. 

As it was, stressing over baby abnormalities probably was not very …easy on the mental state, and so, she resolved to occasionally cry and beg for attention. For her mother’s sake of course. Not her own. 

Though, being cuddled by her mother was a nice feeling. 

“Mamama-” Essie babbled, holding out tiny hands towards her mother. Her mother perked up, beaming in joy as she happily indulged her beloved child.

“Calling for mama aren’t you?” She cooed. Essie nodded compliantly.

Her mother giggled. “You’re such a smart cookie.” 

Like this, the following months passed in peace, filled with nuzzles and contentment. Her mother was enough. More than enough. Essie could live like this forever. She thought she would live this way forever, until that one fateful day when everything came crashing down around her.

It started out sufficiently normal. Essie and her mother had fallen into a routine. She would wake up, she would let her mother sleep, and when her mother started stirring, she would cry and signal for her to feed her. That way, her mother would get sleep, and she would not worry. 

Except that day, before she even had a chance to rouse her mother, the doorbell did it for her.

It had shocked her so much that she burst into tears on the spot. Which was frankly, quite embarrassing. 

They never had visitors before. Her mother was pretty reclusive and Essie was not old enough for festivity. Not that there was much happening around her at all. Her father was nonexistent, her grandparents - if she had any - were also nonexistent, and she was also pretty sure that friends were also nonexistent.

So who was visiting?

Her anxiety was not helped by her mother’s visible unease. Her mother had jumped awake, looked out the peephole and promptly turned around, shooting Essie a reassuring smile before ushering her - picking her (and her crib) up and dropping her (and her crib) - into the furthest room from the main entrance and then shutting the room door. 

Then she spent grueling minutes trying - and failing - to eavesdrop on her mother and the stranger’s conversation. 

After a while, the door cracked open and her mother entered, followed by a man she had never seen before but instinctively knew. 

Her deadbeat father. 

Scowling, Essie made sure to convey her displeasure and disdain for him by wailing as loud as she could. Her mother hurried over to comfort her, probably to ease her into the meeting, but she made sure her “father” knew that she was not at all elated to see him by leveling him with her sternest glower.

He chuckled. “She’s mine alright.”

Her mother glared at him. 

“Poseidon. You’re not supposed to be here.” She hissed quietly, covering Essie’s ears slightly as if trying to keep her from hearing. She was a baby so she was not sure why her mother was being so cautious. 

Poseidon, her sperm donor sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I heard that she’s a girl. A daughter… I had to see her.”

“Well, you’ve seen her. Leave.” 

Essie blinked in surprise, taking her gaze off of her father. She did not know her mother was capable of sounding so snappish. But Poseidon was her ex. Exceptions were probably made for these types of situations. 

“My beautiful little pearl.” He whispered, sounding almost awed. Well too late! You lost all paternal privileges the moment you went MIA! Essie thought grumpily.

“She’s perfect. What’s her name?” He continued, still speaking so softly, so reverently.

“I know. And you’re putting her in danger. Leave.” Her mother stressed, ignoring his question the same way he ignored her clear displeasure.

Sperm donor stared sadly at them. It was almost enough to make Essie sympathetic. But no, she was a mommy’s girl, therefore she was a hundred percent on her mother’s side. No amount of regret or remorse or guilt in swirling sea green eyes were enough to sway her to his side.

“Sally, you know I love you right? Both you and my little pearl.”

Wait, Sally?

Sally, Poseidon, ocean, sea green eyes, pearls, Greek. Oh please no. Hurriedly, she sat up, grabbing at her mother.

“I want you to live with me. I have the palace ready. It’s beautiful and worthy of the both of you. It’s surrounded by colourful corals, reefs and fish. I know that my little pearl would enjoy it immensely.” He pleaded, looking at her mother longingly.

That sounded very suspicious. Very close to…

Her mother sighed. “My answer is still no. I thought you accepted?”

“She’s a girl. My daughter… this-”

“Changes nothing. It doesn’t matter whether Essie is female or not. She’s staying out of your world!”

“Essie.” Her father muttered, testing out the name. Shaking off his daze, his gaze sharpened, landing firmly on her mother. “She is my daughter. It’s unavoidable.”

Her mother bristled, temper flaring at the reminder. “I will keep her safe!”

This was getting more and more like…

Poseidon’s gaze softened. He lifted a hand before putting it back as if thinking better of it. His voice lowered, speaking in hushed tones and as gently as possible, as if about to break a very bad news. “Sally. That’s impossible. I-”

“Get out!” Her mother roared. Beneath her anger though, laid her fear. As if she knew how hopeless her endeavor was. Her hands shook as she tightened her grip on Essie. Thoughts and possibilities warring in her mind.

Essie cooed, closing her tiny fists around her mother’s finger - grounding her. Her mother’s - Sally’s - eyes cleared, as she relaxed enough to gift Essie her signature smile.

Poseidon shifted, dimming, as though depressed over how out of sync he was from them. Depressed over the reminder of how they did not belong with him. 

“I’ll get out of your hair then.” He said tightly. He shot another sad glance at Essie, tracing his eyes over her as if memorising her. Exhaling imperceptibly, he got up, brushing off imaginary dust particles from his clothes - preparing to depart.

“Poseidon.” Her mother said, stopping him in his tracks. “Her name is Elesteria. Elesteria Zosime Jackson.”

Her father tilted his head towards them, smiling wryly. “A survivor who’ll run free. You chose well.”

He gave them one last look before disappearing in a shower of water, leaving behind the smell of sea breeze.

This sealed her fate. 

Percy Jackson? Seriously?

Genderbent!

She was so screwed.

Did this mean she would have to go through all his trials and tribulations?!

There was no way she would be able to avoid it. She was Percy Jackson, trouble magnet and fates' favourite toy!

Maybe she could avoid several of them, such as straight up telling Zeus that his bolt was stolen by Ares. Yeah no, terrible idea. He would most likely smite her on the spot.

What should she do?!

Mother!

Help!

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

After her grand awakening, aka realising just what (which) world she had been reborn in, and what the fates had in store for her, she immediately started hatching her master plan. The plan to survive - with the least amount of pain possible. 

First up, plan A: Get far, far away from America. 

Plan B: Live forever sheltered under a rock. Or not, considering the fact that that rock could easily be a god in disguise. 

Plan C: Hijack the bifrost and get the hell out of this dimension with her mother. 

So far, it seemed that only plan A had some feasibility. The first hurdle to overcome then: trying to subtly convince her mother to consider other places to move to. 

Not Greece, not Italy, not Alaska …or maybe Alaska. Was Alaska safe? It should be, for these few years at least… It was only during the Giant War, the Second Gigantomachy that it really became dangerous. Right?

Her memory was failing her!

Alaska was the land without gods, or something like that. It was also the land where a giant held power? She was not very sure, but she recalled something like that. And also, Hazel Lavesque was somehow connected? 

Ok, nevermind then. Moving on…

Which country, or continent, was peaceful? Where nothing happened?

…Asia?

No, Nico di Angelo kept landing in China for some reason.

That was ultra suspicious. 

Japan?

Essie had always loved Japan. 

But Japan was also the king of weird incidents. 

…That left Antarctica. Antarctica was nice. Penguins and such. But the chances of her mother agreeing was nigh impossible. 

What should she do?!

She stared at her mother with large, doleful eyes, as though she could find all the answers to her dilemma from her. 

Seeing as Sally was busy pottering around, it took her a couple of minutes to notice. “Oh, Essie! Have you been waiting for long?” She cooed, scooping her up in her arms. 

Essie babbled, making grabby hands.

Sally laughed, lightly nuzzling her face. Then she put her down, and turned her attention back to the pans that she was messing around with. 

Essie whined grumpily in dissatisfaction. Sally glanced back at her, and smiled. “Food is almost ready. Patience dear.”

Essie did not want food. She wanted mom. But mom wanted food. 

She pouted. 

Sighing, she decided to look out the window instead. The trees were waving, the leaves were fluttering, the skies were clear and there was a random flying pegasus. 

Nice.

Turning away, Essie pretended she was blind. Totally did not see anything out of the norm. 

She was stuck in that stage of life, where she both wanted to grow up and also did not want to grow up. If she grew up, then it would bring her closer to canon but if she did not grow up, then she would continue being a sitting duck, waiting for disaster to strike.

At least she had mom to look forward to while she waited. And food. 

Baby food had actually grown on her. Mushy and mixed, but somehow good. A bit like flavoured mash potatoes. With a bunch of other things added in. Like fish. The original Percy did not eat fish. Or did he? Essie was not really very sure which “facts” were canon and which were fanfics and speculations. 

Anyways, even if Percy did not eat fish, she definitely did. She was not giving up her seafood privileges. 

Though if she could talk to fish, like Percy could in canon, then it would most likely get awkward…

Well, if her food did spontaneously start talking to her, then she would probably reevaluate her diet and meal plans.  

Fish was delicious. It would take a lot to wean her off it. 

…Sad, accusing eyes and wailed betrayals would, in all likelihood, do it in a flash. Why was she thinking about that?! It was not like her mashed salmon would jump out at her. It was mashed. So she should not be looking at it like it would-

“Essie darling. Are you alright?” Her mother furrowed her brows, looking worriedly at her. Sally looked at the mashed fish in her hands, then she looked back at her daughter. “Do you feel sorry for the fish?”

She did not feel sorry for the fish. She was feeling sorry for herself, if one day she were to be too guilt-ridden to eat it. 

Putting those thoughts behind her, she waved her arms at her mother, motioning for her to bring the food over. 

Sally laughed, “Hungry are we? Here comes the mantaray- Open up!”

“Mum!” Essie whined. “I don’t wanna go to school!” 

“Darling, you get to meet new people. Friends! Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

Essie deadpanned at her. It would have been a lot more convincing, if Sally was not such a hermit herself. 

It was that dreaded period of her life. The age when she was old enough to separate (briefly) from parents. From her mother. The age for kindergarten.  

There were over a hundred reasons that she could name for why she would not want to spend time with grubby, slimy, booger-smudged kids who did not even have a basic grasp on the human language. Communication was going to be such a pain. 

She did not remember much from her kindergarten years in her previous life, but judging by kid behaviour, it would likely include screaming, flying food and catfights. That was normal children being children, and if middle schoolers were not above that, then toddlers definitely were not either. 

As for Essie herself, the reason for her mother’s nonchalance over her obvious abnormal kid behaviour was probably because she just chalked it up to the consequences of being half-god. Weird godly genetics and all that. 

Springing out fully grown, being born from your fathers thigh, running around driving people to insanity at just a day old, yeah, Essie could see why her mother was not particularly bothered with her eccentricities. 

If she was not a demigod, then Sally would surely be more worried. So in conclusion, she should thank the fact that she was born half human, otherwise she would have had to put up a farce of being a normal baby. That would be hell.

Nevermind, the downsides of being a demigod far outweigh that. 

Speaking of demigod cons, should she not get a free pass at school? It was not like school would be helpful in teaching her how to survive as a demigod with a neon blazing target on her back. Of course she could not say that to her mother. 

What was something convincing that could persuade her mother into letting her be homeschooled? If she was to be homeschooled, then a lot of the original Percy Jackson sticky situations would not have a chance to unfold.

“Mum-”

“Oh, this must be Essie!” A chipper voice piped up.

Essie stared blankly at the preppy woman. Sally beamed, “Hi! You must be the teacher!”

“Yeah! And you must be Essie’s parent!”

Just what was this exchange? 

For the next ten minutes, her mother and the new teacher did introductions, answered questions, and began discussing her schedule. Through it all, Essie zoned out. 

“-rest assured, Essie will have a delightful time with us!”

“Of course!”

And that commenced Essie’s first day of school.

…Which ended up being her last day of school.

Being expelled on the first day of kindergarten must be a world record. 

This had never happened to her before. She was a good student in her previous life. Introverted, neither very well liked or hated by her peers, but loved by her teachers. She had never gotten detention, let alone gotten expelled.  

So she blamed this experience on being the chew toy of the fates, and on being the main character of a fantasy series. A main character whose experiences largely centered around a lot of bad luck. 

It should not have been humanly possible to get into as much trouble as she had gotten into today. Actually, she might have gotten into worse - school - trouble than even the original Percy Jackson ever had. 

For one, while the original Percy Jackson did get expelled multiple times, it was usually at the end of the school year - and not day - and started after kindergarten. At least that was how she interpreted it. He was expelled six times, and if one were to deduce it from the timeline, it would have started after - in - first grade. 

Another point would be that if Percy Jackson had experienced what she had experienced in this first day of kindergarten, then it would have definitely made the headlines of the fandom community. 

Remember that time when Percy Jackson was found playing with a strangled dead snake? Yeah, that was what happened to Essie, except she was playing whack the snakes with a toy baseball while the rest of the class and teachers screamed their lungs out.

Snakes, not snake.

Yes, on her first day of school, there was a sudden snake infestation, which would have already been weird without adding the fact that all of them - the snakes - cared not for anything but Essie. Meaning, they made it their sole mission to chase her around, needless of the danger of being turned into juice.

Anyways, the next thing she knew, she was expelled.

Something about teachers fainting, kids crying, a lot of people feeling sick and being a “disturbance.” Though she could not fathom how that related to her. If anything, she was helping them get rid of the problem, especially since all the adults were too frightened to do anything! Even if this …incident was partly her fault (and how would they have known that anyways? Like yes, the child is to be blamed for an animal infestation, like what?!), she did not do it on purpose! It just so happened to be the side-effect of being the main character of a fantasy action novel mixed with comedy!

This must have been how the original Percy Jackson felt. The aggrievement of being the victim of misplaced blame and injustice. 

Looking at her mother, Sally did not seem too surprised. If anything, she looked almost resigned. At least there was someone who did not believe that it was Essie’s fault. Or at least someone who did not stick the blame on her. 

Although that was most likely because as someone who held some degree of knowledge on the hidden world, she had been bracing herself for, if not this specific incident, then these types of incidents. 

“Let’s go to the park ok?” Her mother smiled warmly, soothingly, as if telling her that everything would be alright.

Ok mother. A veritably good idea to go to a park, forest-y and nature-y, after being inexplicably accosted by a bunch of snakes, who by the way, live outdoors!

Oh well, it was not often that she got to go out. Might as well make the most of it. 

Slipping her hand into her mothers, they ambled along the road, taking shortcuts towards a lesser known, but utterly peaceful park.

They settled down on the periphery of the park beside the lake. Essie skimmed her fingers across the surface, giggling as ripples spread outwards from that point of contact. 

Her eyes narrowed with determination. She swept her gaze over their surroundings, making sure no one was paying them (her) any mind. After the surveillance came back positive, she turned her attention back to the lake.

It came instinctively. The water responded immediately, an extension of her will. To her side, her mother gasped. 

“Essie, darling. Why don’t we start heading back?” She whispered, nervously glancing around. 

Essie blinked back at her, puzzled. “Why?” 

Was it because of the water-bending? It was not like the mist would not take care of it. If the mist could cover for a colossal monster the size of a skyscraper, then it definitely would not have any trouble covering for her little party tricks. 

Sally chittered anxiously, eyes darting around. “I just remember that I left the cookies at home. You’re favourite ones, remember?”

Reason: water manipulation; confirmed. 

Essie tilted her head. She was a daughter of Poseidon, the Sea God. It should not come as a surprise that she would have a natural affinity towards water. So-

“Hey! Cool trick you got there. Can you do more of it?”

Two heads instantly snapped towards the voice. Sally paled, hands shooting towards Essie as though trying to shield her from view. 

“Oh wait! I didn’t mean to startle you…” The British-accented voice continued, sentence awkwardly drifting off into the cosmos.

Sally had already gotten out of her comfy position and looked as if she was prepared to bolt. With Essie.

The - British? - man looked familiar. Long old-fashioned coat, bowtie, geeky vibe and a beaten up brown suitcase that looked really, really, familiar. And was that a green branch with eyes peeking out from the man’s pocket?

“You’re worried right? Because I saw her doing that, but promise! It’s absolutely normal-!”

Sally stared at him incredulously. Normal?! 

Essie could feel the wheels in her head screech to a halt. It was not possible that she would be involved in other fandoms right?

The man scratched his neck, then sheepishly raised a hand. “I’m Newt. Newt Scamander.”

Oh…

Oh Fuck!

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. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Paris was fine, not the worst, not the best. The wizarding area of Paris was magical. Prettier than Diagon Alley. The inn (not hotel and yes, there was a difference between them, a distinction between size, reputation, etc or whatever. Essie was not that sure on the details) they had made themselves comfortable in, had a room that faced towards the Eiffel Tower, which was - naturally, for a matter of fact - the one her mother chose. 

It was nice, she supposed. 

The sky was bright-ish, the busy areas were far enough away from her to prevent disturbances, and the heat was alright. When she was inside that was. And she had a direct view of the icon of France. Something that was mentioned previously but she felt needed reiteration. 

The wizarding society area was less polluted - and populated - than its non-magical counterpart, which made it more appealing to her and her mother. 

The most notable thing was that she was very obviously in the past - some hints being the outdated technology and weird trends that she knew would go out of fashion soon. It was not as if she was clueless to the fact, what with the date plastered everywhere and such, but it was especially apparent in the outside world. 

A slap in the face wake up call.

There was a big difference between knowing and knowing. Like knowing something exists and then knowing it exists. Understanding it. 

Confusing, but true. 

Like how she knew that she was in the PJO universe, that she herself was Percy Jackson - some version of him -, and that meant that she was in a timeline behind her own previous one, and then actually knowing, registering, after seeing the full evidence of it and then finally it clicked that she was in a different time - and world.

(Which brought about a type of grief that she did not fully understand. Like she was mourning, but for what she did not know).

This brought her back to her previous questions on the Harry Potter timeline. So far, she seemed to follow the Percy Jackson timeline, so either the Harry Potter era had already passed - or it was happening at right this moment -, or it had yielded to the Percy Jackson timeline, meaning the Harry Potter era was going to happen, a decade after canon, when Essie herself was gonna enter canon PJO. 

If she did not manage to outrun it that was.

The Harry Potter books were set in the 90s, and since now it was the late 90s, it meant that it was near the end of the series. What was at the end of the series? Oh right, final showdown between the hero and the villain. 

And since everything was peaceful, with no hiding and worried witches and wizards, it most likely meant that Voldemort was not at large. Ergo, either Harry Potter had completely passed, or it was coming. Or only Britain was affected by him. 

That should not have been the case right? Otherwise Fleur and her husband would have just fled to France, and all the other witches and wizards with foreign connections could have just hightailed it out of there. Besides, during the Quidditch game, there was mass panic caused by the Dark Mark’s appearance. The Quidditch game was international. That should be self-explanatory.

Would it be weird if a four year old went about reading history tomes? Most likely. Not to mention she currently had dyslexia. Now that was annoying. It made sense now why dyslexic people hated school. Just the textbooks would have shaved off decades of their lives. 

Not to mention the essays, homework and stuff. Seriously, dyslexic people should get more than fifteen minutes of extra time. 

And now she was off-track. She blamed the ADHD.

This was using too much brainpower. It was way too energy consuming. Now she was hungry. 

…Explore French delicacies?

Eyes darting over in her mother’s directions, she stared imploringly at her. 

Sally was all too happy to spoil her daughter.

(Essie ignored the little pessimistic voice in her head that told her that she would have to deal with not only the gods, but also the mess with the wizarding world. After all, Newt Scamander was young, was he not? Too young… The world a little too tranquil, and she a little too happ-)

Essie bounced in her seat in complete excitement (with Kuroi swiveling around in curiosity) at the local - magical - confectionery she and Sally had found themselves in. They were - one more expressively than the other - eagerly awaiting the treats they had ordered. 

Walking down the street, it was this cheerful and colourful shop that had immediately attracted their attention, what with the huge balloons framing the doorways, the dazzling ever-changing leaf colour tree studded with fireflies that twinkled invitingly at every visitor, and the cute stuffed animals and humongous three tiered cake that stood proudly behind the floor to ceiling display window. 

The inside definitely did not disappoint. 

Rows and rows of sweets and chocolates, cute pastries ferried around by doves, and beautiful, unique slices of cakes (was that a lychee perched upon one of them?!) dancing along to the tune of the music from the self-playing harp. 

Was it really a surprise when they asked for basically everything on the menu?

The place operated like both a cafe and a bakery, with one being able to buy whatever had caught their fancy - usually for people in a hurry, take out and stuff -, or being able to order from the menu - for people who wanted to sit down and enjoy. 

The menu mostly had drinks, cold or hot stuff, and also a small selection of actual main course food. Plus the sweets and desserts, though most of it was not on the menu, and you had to point it out - from the drifting delicacies present everywhere -  to the - fairy-like, iridescent - waitresses if you wanted one.

The confectionery itself was both playful and elegant, with plush pastel cushioned seats that joined together like one huge winding sofa, and marbled tables that had gold and silver cracks slithering through their polished surface. 

Glass and crystal structures both supported and decorated the area. Functioning as either holders for desserts or pretty pieces to admire. 

Little balls of light floated around the room, giving a soothing warm glow that functioned as a light source. 

A ten out of ten for atmosphere. 

A twenty out of ten for presentation. 

Most of the sweets looked too pretty to eat. Like that water fountain shaped chocolate and the adorable hamster macaroon (it even had those cute glimmering whiskers that twitched! Or maybe it was the wind from movements through the air). 

Some of the candies could even compete with Elsa’s ice sculpture masterpieces. Solid pieces of pure golden sugar art works that reflected light - like that beautiful Chinese dragon that was flying, performing air acrobatics, fully animated and sparkling.

…Regrettable, how her mother said no to all of them. Something about sugar mixed with ADHD. 

But not to worry, because they got macaroons, croissants, eclairs, cakes, etc which was plenty enough. And her mother had acquiesced to a couple of dolphin shaped bite-sized chocolates (plus pasta and stuff because one could not only eat dessert for lunch).

So it really was not a surprise when their table ended up looking like food wonderland - while also vanishing from view after being submerged in the sheer quantity that made up what they had ordered.

The - magical - waitresses stacked their food expertly, forming a stable - if slightly precarious looking - cone. They had even specially made a little secluded area for Kuroi, charmed so he would not be able to run around wild. Smart, considering the fact that everything was gold and shiny.

After everything was set and tidy, they dug in.

It was absolutely worth it. Even if they felt slightly sick afterwards - Kuroi included, judging by how he was completely inert, paws rubbing sleepily at his belly. 

Every bite was pure bliss. The flavours caressing in just the right ways. It was so good in fact, that she could start waxing poetry. Give Apollo a run for his money and all that. Ooh, she could feel the inspiration coming:

Delectable food is heavenly light,

Delicious flavours of scrumptious bite.

Tickling the tongue, I close my eyes,

Savoring the taste of blissful delight.

Ah, yes, it seemed as if she had a future in poetry.

And so, when all was eaten and done, they headed back to their rooms and gave in to their sugar crash.

Essie was also put on sugar probation. Which she thought completely unfair, because how was she to resist? Faced with all that loveliness. 

It felt like sin to not eat it (it also felt like sin to eat it).

If living in France meant that she would get to experience this everyday, then she was so going to stay here forever. Good luck to the blasted Fates if they ever try to tear her from this place.

She was not going to leave unless it was in a casket.

Essie, while also petting - squishing - Kuroi, absent-mindedly swung her legs around from where she was sitting on the bed and watched her mother rush around the room. 

It was the year 2000, and she was officially seven years of age. Which meant that she could start participating in school - and hobbies. 

Something she did not like, especially after her disastrous first day of kindergarten experience, but no. Her mother was optimistically holding up the hope that she, Elesteria Jackson, demigod(dess) extraordinaire, was capable of fitting in - in other words, not have trouble find her (or the other way around).

It sounded like a bomb in the making. Whether it would be a grenade, a missile, or a gigantic freaking hydrogen bomb, that she could not say. Just that her gut told her that it would not be the grenade.  

Apparently as a developing child, she was in need of social interactions with children her own age, and it was particularly because of her own peculiarness - her mother was stubbornly sticking onto the lie of her being a “witch,” as if that would explain away all her other abnormalities - that she needed more opportunities, where she could communicate with people who did not have her gifts. 

Her mother’s words, not hers.

Therefore she was being sent to muggle - mortal - school.

Yay. 

She was being sarcastic. 

Maybe mum just wanted her to learn how to behave “normally” to avoid attracting negative attention. That would explain first grade, not ballet, because yes, she had been signed up for ballet classes too.

What did mother think that would do? That she would learn how to fight and kick ass from ballet?

Sure, her balance and flexibility would improve, and sure, they were important for fighting, but ballet was not going to teach her how to decapitate her enemies. 

Ok, so maybe ballet was useful. Only as foundation though. 

…Which was most likely her mother’s line of thought. It wasn’t like she wanted her seven year old daughter waving swords or knives. 

Although, she really was not going to go around stabbing people. And she had never exhibited stabby tendencies, so she did not know why her mother always watched her warily whenever she was near a remotely sharp looking object. 

Even if said object was a pencil.

She did not know what she possibly could have done to warrant this amount of distrust. Was it the first day of kindergarten experience where she came out top to a bunch of snakes while holding a bat?

It was not like she was going to lose. That would be embarrassing. But yeah, she could sort of understand where her mother was coming from, but like, come on! Give her a break! That was self-defense!

Her melodramatic monologue was interrupted by a piece of fabric. 

“Ughh!” her voice came out muffled around the smothering embrace of her new uniform. 

Kuroi abandoned her. That ungrateful midget.

“Put that on! We’re running late! Chop chop!” Sally exclaimed, still whizzing around the room like an out-of-control rubber ball. 

And after what seemed like a thousand years later and after a thorough brushing and grooming session that even Kuroi did not manage to escape - weird, since it was not like he was going to school -, Essie showed up at her new school in perfectly pressed neat clothes, looking for the life of her like a little innocent angel. 

The teachers loved her immediately.

The students? Not so much.

The good thing about living in France - other than the food - was that she finally, finally, learned French. Bye bye Duolingo. She had no need for that ever again. Except maybe to learn Chinese - since she was stuck at basic greetings and whatever common phrases were present in dramas and videogames.

Genshin Impact was actually a very good game. The all-nighters she pulled trying to complete quests and the mental anguishes inflicted when Xiao always stubbornly escaped her clutches were heart-wrenching. 

Then there was Love and Deepspace that drove her crazy with her incomplete collections due to time-limits (“limited edition”), like bro! Extend it!!! Or at least make it so that she would not keep pulling the same badge, like when she was one badge short in the kitty collection, and then it. ENDED! 

Reason being that out of nine badges, she used more than ten kitty card coins to pull badges that she already had. And so, that one, single, new badge she needed to complete that collection fell through, and out of her reach forever.

Explanation: she kept pulling, and pulling, and pulling, and she always got badges she had already collected. Like goddamit! What type of luck was that?!

Unfortunately, that was not her biggest moment of death via infuriation over videogames. No, that honor would go to the Japanese horror otome game Homicipher, and those stupid ghosts and the stupid, annoying, utterly ruleless and illogical language she just could not crack. 

Not to mention the amount of times she died to that female ghost with a missing left (or was it right?) shoe. She was honestly kind of embarrassed over how long it took her to realise that all she had to do was find the shoe and give it to her to turn her from murdery to friendly. 

Oh yeah, and then she exited the game and returned to find all progress lost. That was when she went on temporary - that became permanent - hiatus on the game. 

And she was off tangent. It was not too surprising, she did it often. She blamed the ADHD. 

…That was basically her catchphrase at this point. Blaming the ADHD that was. Ugh. 

…She got distracted. Again.

Oh yeah, she was talking about France. About living there, how it was like, and she was going to move on to narrating school experiences, but then got sidetracked. 

Well, she would do it now, she supposed.

School was boring so she was not going to say much, just that teachers were stuffy and were always like “You shall address me as Madame or Monsieur” (depending on gender). And because it was boring, she was going to skip past all of it and go to the one interesting thing.

Ballet.

And no, it was not ballet that was interesting, but who was in her ballet class.

Fleur Delacour. 

Two years older than her. She did not have to explain the implications now did she? Nope, it was pretty self-explanatory, considering the fact that Harry Potter was canonically fourteen, while Fleur was seventeen during Goblet of Fire.

So yeah. She decided to leave this new piece of information to ruminate over later. When she was feeling less dead. 

She really wished that she finished Homicipher. She had meant to, but she got a little too distracted by the introduction of Caleb and well… Arlecchino came out… Then Ryomen Sukuna was introduced in the Jujutsu Kaisen videogame and she managed to get his domain expansion and well…

Then she died.

She never got back into Homicipher.

On the bright side, she could speak French now.

And that she had some idea of how life was going to go. With the confirmation that Harry Potter and Percy Jackson were basically happening in sync.  

Flopping back into bed, Essie sighed into the pillow of her upgraded queen-sized bed. Reaching out a hand, she yanked Kuroi in with her and proceeded to treat him like a snuggly, fluffy, heat pad stuffed pillow. 

She had school tomorrow which meant another early morning in which her mother would sweep in like a sandstorm through a desert, all blaring noises and scorching sunshine.

Five more years of normal school before she went to magical school. Assuming that she passed for a witch, or that a wand could handle her (something necessary to pass for a which). 

Hopefully fanfics did not lie. Or that she was in a fanfic that was demigod friendly. 

She groaned. Loudly. Too loudly.

“Essie! Go to sleep!” Her mother yelled from her own room.

“Got it!” She yelled back. Kuroi whimpered from under her. 

“Sorry bud. Too loud?” She whispered. 

He nodded. 

She rubbed his head soothingly. 

After three years, the little munchkin had grown on her. He also became more obedient, turning into her own little sidekick. 

The chaos she could unleash with him at - magical - school would be legendary. The talk for decades. And might also get her expelled.

Eh, it was not like behaving did her any good. Might as well make the most of this second chance now, should she not?

This life, she would live to the fullest.

And she would no longer tolerate the bullshit of people - gods included.

She would carve her own path, away from the destiny laid out for her in the form of the Fates.

And she would do it with her mother and Kuroi by her side.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Essie could see why the Beauxbatons kids had considered Hogwarts ugly. It was all a matter of perspective, and from the perspective of people used to the beautiful, magnificent chateau that made up Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, that sentiment made sense. 

The walls of Beauxbatons were white, made of almost see-through rocks that glistened with the sunlight. Gleaming sculptures of pegasi, phoenixes, dragons, etc, stood as centerpieces atop the multitude of fountains stationed around the grounds. 

Perfectly manicured and decorated trees scattered randomly, but aesthetically around the place. 

Bushes, styled similarly to their tree counterparts, were all shaped differently, and she could just spot one, laying further out, that resembled Kuroi. 

If she took a selfie of herself here and posted it, she would probably become an internet sensation within the hour. That was how pretty Beauxbatons was. 

Unfortunately her admiration of the building had to be cut short. 

“Est-ce que tu viens?” Fleur asked, nudging her along the path.

That was one development she did not expect. Somehow - probably her Veela instincts -, Fleur knew that she was not quite what she appeared to be. Maybe it was the “siren” part of her? The mesmerising ocean part of her that sang to the part-Veela’s own otherworldly appeal. 

Mattered not. 

All you needed to know was that Fleur had spent the better parts of a year trying to get her to “open up,” because apparently introverts were not a thing. 

It did not matter that she was younger. No, Fleur would drag her everywhere until eventually they became besties. Which led them to this moment. Where Fleur - fourth year -, was eagerly introducing their school to her. 

Elesteria Jackson.

Like she was not going to be expelled within a month. 

Sigh. Guess Fleur was the optimist to her pessimism. Though, did it count as pessimism if she got expelled from basically all the schools she attended - and even from ballet?

The dance instructor refused to take her, even after her mother offered to pay extra. Which kind of miffed her. How bad did one have to be to not be allowed in, even after double the tuition?

Fleur said she was amazing. 

And if that was true, then somehow that would make it worse. A teacher rejecting a talented student, while said student offered to pay more than the norm?

Ouch. 

For the sake of her mental health, she was going to blame it on the Fates, and on the author’s terrible sense of humour. 

“Allez!” 

“Ok, ok! Je viens!” 

And so they ran. Because they might have been a tiny, tiiiinyyy, bit late.

The inside was as beautiful as the outside. And it was warm. Really warm. Bordering hot. That was just how it was in France - during the summer months.

Fleur was already seated at the table. Along with the other “Moons.” 

Ombrelune. 

Shadow moon.

A house that would probably fit her best too. 

Except she definitely did not strive for perfection, and she was not particularly ambitious past “survive.” 

Actually, that should count as ambition. The probability of her survival was low enough as it was - made higher by being the Fates favourite chew toy. 

Unless they knew that she did not actually belong. Then her chances would drop to the negatives. Or raise higher, if the Fates happened to feel in need of entertainment. 

Whatever. This was using too much brainpower. She would just wait and see.

Waiting turned into more waiting which turned into more waiting that turned into more waiting until what felt like an eternity passed. Students were called individually to a fountain, where they basically just threw a wishing coin in and hoped for the best. 

It was painfully obvious that some of them were really sheltered growing up. The anxiety and stage fright were apparent, and so were the trying too hard to be cool vibes. 

The faked nonchalance on most of them was so bad that she wanted to laugh. 

When it came to be her turn, she gladly strode up, more than happy to finally get somewhere. A flip of a token - and my did that sound fancy -, and a little splash that sent ripples rolling over the surface of the water.

A beat.

Another beat.

Nothing. 

Well shit. This should not be. She managed to acquire a wand. This would not be where she failed, right?

…She was supposed to make a wish or something? A thought to transmit to the fountain? 

She did not listen. She really should focus more. Especially when teachers give instructions. 

She was blaming the ADHD.

The fountain sputtered.

It started bubbling.

Sizzling.

Everyone’s attention was on the fountain - and on her by default -, waiting for a sign.

Green flashed across the surface for a brief moment before purple took over, swirling in tangent with blue and grey. A moon revealed itself while a butterfly floated upwards.

She twitched. 

This was unexpected. 

Papillonlisse? The house of grace, gentleness and maturity?

Sure, butterflies could be spontaneous and unpredictable, but that was literally the only thing that connected her with them! What about the rest of the criterias? The daydreaming, romantics, optimists? 

What part of that sounded like her.

It sounded more like Percy. Perseus Jackson. Her “alter ego,” that did not really exist.

Hesitating, she looked around the room. If she chose Ombrelune without batting an eye, would that offend the butterflies?

She saw Fleur smiling at her.

She picked up the moon. 

She watched curiously as it spun a few times in the air before delicately weaving itself into her robes.

Her wand choosing - wand choosing her and not the other way around, and even that did not really happen - was as chaotic and destructive as everything else in her life. 

Sometimes she wondered if she had inherited the more dangerous aspects of Poseidon. 

She was comparing herself to Perseus. Percy Jackson. 

From what she knew, he was nowhere near as powerful as her, and she was pre-canon. 

His powers had manifested when he learned about the gods. She already knew about the gods, so maybe that had some influence. It definitely had influence on the monsters, though that got better as she aged and got better control. (And also because she asked Fleur - Fleur’s parents - to teach her how to disguise herself and how to mask her scent. She got a few weird glances but they did not seem to think much of it. What was one oddity among a billion of them?)

Another factor could be that she did not have Percy’s morality holding her back. She was vengeful, spiteful and petty.

Did that come with being female?

On average, females tended to hold grudges more. If wronged, they would remember it forever, and wait for the most inopportune of times to pull it out.

Of course that did not apply to every female, and there were some that were way too nice for their own good. But on average?

An example would be getting scolded. Girls? Yeah, that was a deep impression into their psyche. Boys? Back to wrestling like nothing ever happened. 

She knew because that was her. 

And a lot of her friends - old friends from her previous life. Just the hours of shit-talking about stuff parents did or stern professors and you got the gist.

Not to mention the grudge her previous best friend held against her scumbag boyfriend, which was valid but, why did she wait ten - TEN - years to get revenge?

The guy probably already forgot everything - which was most likely the point. 

And she diverged again.

Her wand choosing went something like this: Fleur, Gabrielle, Apolline, Monsieur Delacour and her mother stood at the entrance of the store - already well versed in all the ways that could and would go wrong in the presence of Essie Jackson.

They watched encouragingly as she went ahead and tried a few.

The first one died.

It emitted pathetic whimpers and then drooped - wilting like a dehydrated flower. 

The next one also shriveled up.

But those were still miles better than the third one.

Ever heard of third time’s the charm?

That was false. 

Her third try? It blew up in her face.

It stayed stable, for a short second, before going wheeeee and boom! Like a firecracker went off. Except the firecracker was made of molten lava and soot.

The fourth also started whistling, but the difference was, the shop keeper had learned his lesson and snatched it away the moment it looked like something was about to go wrong.

The fifth decided that it wanted to have fun. It reorganised the entire place.

On the bright side, pink fluffy unicorn wands were a thing.

Too bad the owner did not find it amusing.

The sixth, seventh and eight ones also went kaboom!

The ninth went Fweeee ! I love roller coasters!

The tenth decided it wanted to escape the shop - or maybe just her grasp.

The eleventh committed suicide via setting the the table on fire and them jumping into it.

Meanwhile through it all, her friends and family wisely retreated even further away from the entrance.

The twelfth - maybe because of the twelve Olympians or something – turned the entire place into a water ride.

Attempt number thirteen spewed a lively melody that was absolutely ear-wrecking.

The fourteenth exploded, bringing down the other guy’s moustache with it when he did not manage to rescue it in time.

That was when he started looking like he was regretting her as a customer and looked about ready to give up and kick her out.

But then he spun on his heel and went to the back, and then came out with what looked like a roomful of wands. 

Determination lit, he handed her a couple more.

Some died.

Others were rescued in time.

She accidentally flooded the street - as in the Delacours had to hurriedly try and vanish the water while trying to resist the force (Gabrielle enjoyed the impromptu amusement ride). 

That ended with a lot of disgruntled shoppers and genuine apologies from her sopping wet mother and the Delacours, who managed to smooth it over with their charm - cough, influence.

After countless tries and utterly exhausted people, the owner gave up, and just gave her raw materials.

That started Essie’s journey of “How to build a wand!”

The owner slash shopkeeper tested her affinity, and then somehow had those rare materials that fit her perfectly, right in his storage. Suspicious? 

Definitely.

Did the materials reek of the sea?

Infinitely.

Thanks dad. Really appreciate it.  

That sounded sarcastic.

It was not.

Ok, maybe a tiny bit. But mostly because she was not happy over his future involvement in her life. 

And what he represented. 

But she really was grateful. 

Appreciation that compounded every time she looked at her beautiful glossy black wand, edged in subtle green and blue highlights that glittered when the light glanced off it just right. Those green and blue swirls resembled ocean currents, and gathered together at the end to form a translucent, blue-green gem.

A wand that was so much more magical than she thought possible.

A wand that was so her. That reflected what she stood for.

A wand that carried no traces of Poseidon.

Or Percy Jackson.

School was boring. Magical school was no different. Lectures after lectures, mountains of homework, and people that tried to lord their superiority over others. 

She got it, she really did.

People wanted to fit in. They wanted to be admired. They wanted to make a name for themselves. The desire was significantly more intense due to the added factor of it being the first time most of them ever met people their own age.

Wizarding families tended to be homeschooled. They also tended to be secluded.

That was not very good for social skills.

Not that she could say anything, seeing as her social skills still sucked after two lifetimes and years of school experience. 

The good thing was food. It was amazing. The appetizers, the main course, the desserts, the drinks, the snacks, everything.

Pistachio croissants, macaroons, eclairs, crepes, foie gras, steak tartare, souffles, and they even had Italian delicacies (arancini!), Portuguese egg tarts, and Spanish tapas (her absolute favourite was the shrimp one… that brought back her previous thoughts on ethical dilemmas and seafood diet).

The other good thing was Fleur.

Fleur had nice friends (kind of). Ombrelune was nice (kind of). 

People were nice, and they warmed up relatively quickly, but they were also kind of snobby?

All of them were rich kids. 

They were nice, once you got past their initial arrogance.

Some were standoffish though. The Ombrelunes. 

Overall, she could see herself enjoying her time here.

Hopefully she would not get expelled.

She probably just jinxed it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

The seas were rolling while the skies thundered. A horse whinnied as an eagle shrieked. Jagged lightning tempered by crashing waves, hurricanes and storm clouds that clashed with rage. 

The oceans rose to meet the heavens. The heavens howled as they tried to force a concession. Neither one was willing to bend, static buzzed as the air upend. 

Space distorted. Lightning flashed. Sprays of water. Ear-splitting blasts.

Buffering winds and walls of liquid, twisting in fury as they exacted their wrath.

Showers of aurum rained into the ocean, as the seas itself seemed to bleed golden. 

In the distance a girl kneeled, hands wrapped tightly as if to shield.   

“Stop!” She cried, fracturing under the pressure. 

“Enough!” She sobbed as the wind tore her to pieces.

Efforts for nought as the gods refused to listen. After all, what was one girl in the face of their mission?

Essie shot awake with a scream lodged in her throat. 

She took several shuddery breaths, trying to get those panicked short bursts under control. Sweat slicked her hair, running down her face, her throat, before disappearing into her clothes. 

A lamp clicked on.

“Est-ce que ça va?” Her roommate - Camille - asked, blearily rubbing at her eyes.

“Oui. Retourne dormir.” 

Camille nodded, then went right back to sleep. Louise and Amaranthe remained undisturbed. 

With a sigh, Essie collapsed back onto her bed, pulling the covers all the way over her head. 

Breathing in deeply, she continued her now daily routine.

As Christmas drew nearer, her dreams started getting more and more vivid, evolving into night terrors that would sometimes keep her - and her roommates - up. 

It… Was not supposed to like this. She was in first year of magic school. In other words, she was eleven. Not twelve.

Percy was twelve. 

The Lightning Thief took place during the summer, months after the winter holidays, when he was twelve. And considering the fact that his birthday was in August - the same as hers -, that meant that during Christmas, he was also twelve. 

Not eleven like she currently was.

Besides, she was nearly certain that he only started getting nightmares when his school year just about ended. After all, the lightning bolt was stolen during the winter solstice, which even if the timeline had been moved ahead of schedule, would not be for another couple of weeks. 

Unless someone - Castellan - made his move earlier than in canon. But no, it was explained, that he literally had no other choice - or opportunity - to do it before. Or maybe someone else stole Zeus’ bolt. She would not put it past the Fates - or whoever is in charge of her soul - to stir things up just to mess with her. 

Her nightmares though. Zeus and Poseidon were going at it hard.

Which meant that a certain amount of time had passed for them to have marinated in pent-up feelings. 

Of course she could not cross out the probability that she was “seeing into the future.”

This sucked. 

Life sucked.

She hated this.

“J'ai entendu dire que tu avais encore fait un cauchemar?” 

Fleur’s forehead creased, concern etched into every non-existent line and flaw of her face. 

Camille that tattle-tale. Now Fleur was going to be even more overbearing than she had been recently, after learning about her progressively recurring nightmares. 

She had managed to keep it a secret, for about a month by bribing all three of her roommates and swearing them to secrecy. Of course, Amaranthe, that simp, cracked the moment Fleur expressed how worried she was, over her “dark circles” and “worsening complexion.” 

So now here they were, with Fleur mothering her like a frantic, frazzled momma duck. 

Essie grouchily glared at the source of her predicament. 

Amaranthe ducked her head, smiling sheepishly. Désolée she mouthed, finger coming up to scratch at her hairline. 

Deeming Amaranthe forgiven (let off the hook - for now), she - next - turned her glower towards the reason for her current plight. 

Camille shrugged, waving mockingly before eating a grape. Utterly carefree and easy, despite knowing the torture - via Fleur - that she had subjected the sea’s daughter to - by tattling. 

See? What awesome friends. 

At least she still had Louise. 

“Je pense que ça empire.”

Never mind. Seriously Louise, et tu? 

The look of complete betrayal that she shot her last “friend” went ignored. 

Fleur gasped, horror flashing across her features as she dramatically sprung out of her seat and into the demigoddess’s space. “Oh mon Dieu! Mon pauvre enfant!” She wailed, hands coming up to squish her cheeks while examining her critically for any other blemishes.

Now officially a meat patty, Essie stared flatly at the ceiling, tracing over the beautiful constellation carvings.

And she had not even taken a bite out of her breakfast yet.

She wanted croissants. Pistachio. The most exquisite flavour. Sweet, nutty, subtle. 

Now if only Fleur could release her. 

“J'ai faim.” Essie deadpanned.

Fleur blinked. “Oh!” She exclaimed, letting go of her as abruptly as she had grabbed her. Her arms and hands became a blur of movement, as she snatched as many, healthy, breakfast options as possible, before dumping them in front of the baby demigod. 

At the same time, the part-Veela swiped away the croissant she had been eyeing, finding it not nutritious enough for a “sick patient.”

Essie gazed at her retreating croissant mournfully. 

She was having nightmares - that were quite possibly glimpses of the future. 

She was not dying.

Though from how her best friend was behaving, she might as well be.

This was why she wanted to keep it a secret. Curse the blabbermouths that made up her roommates. 

She wanted her chocolates back!

She failed - spectacularly - in getting her chocolates back.

Camille stated that she was not the one to break the news to Fleur, and that Essie had not paid for her silence regarding last night, which therefore meant that she did not go back on her word - which meant no refunds.

Amaranthe disappeared. She went poof! And now there was no sign of her anywhere from the crystal staircases, grand hallways, ballrooms, hidden alcoves, small closets, dining halls, to the perfectly symmetrical classrooms, kitchens and labyrinth-like library. She was not in the dorms either. And not in the gardens.

Giving up, Essie went on to track down Louise. 

Louise, who cited their deal, word by word, as an argument as to why she did not need to “return” the sweets.

This was why bribes were useless. You give them something, and you get nothing back.

And the worse thing was, she could not even get chocolates from Fleur, because she had put her on a candy ban.

A candy ban! Can you believe it?!

She. Was. Not. Sick!

She did not need to be put on diet. On the contrary, she needed those extra comforts to get her through this time of turmoil. Of difficulty!

Oh how did her life come to this?

“Essie. I heard that you haven’t been sleeping well lately?”

Great. Now even her mother had heard about this. 

“Nope! All is well!” She chirped in reply.

Sally did not look convinced. Examining her daughter carefully, she noted her slightly skinnier frame and pallid skin. 

“You know you can tell me if something is bothering you, right?”

Essie slouched, feet kicking absent-mindedly. Should she tell her mother or not? If she told her mother, what would it do other than make her worry? Not to mention, she already had enough of her plate without adding the divine nonsense. 

“Essie…” Sally said sternly. “Tell me.”

And so, she told her mother. 

“It’s nothing really. Just this repeating dream.”

“Of what?”

Essie paused. How to make it sound less scary in order not to send her mother into a fit of anxiety?

“Dunno. Just nature.”

Sally raised an eyebrow - wholly unimpressed.

Essie groaned, dragging a hand over her eyes. “It’s stupid, and not scary at all. Just annoying ‘cause it keeps repeating.”

The ever patient mother nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“It’s just raging seas and storming skies.”

Sally tensed. “And? What did it feel like?”

“Like they were fighting? I dunno! It’s not like I take divination. Speaking of that, Fleur got some of her classmates to “divine” me or something, so basically just like this circle of people, who were sitting with this moon-like ball that was apparently a seeing orb or something, and then they tried to see what was wrong with me. They even picked apart my dreams, but like yeah. It makes no sense. It’s probably something my mind came up with because I like the ocean… Mom?”

Goal not accomplished. 

She knew that she should have never told her mother.

“Wait? We’re moving?! Again?!”

This was not what she expected would happen when she confided in her mother.

Her dreams - nightmares - had driven the poor, struggling mother of a prophesied halfblood into delirium, where she threw rationality and logic all out the window. 

“Wait! Mom! This doesn’t even make sense! It’s just a dream!”

Okay, maybe she should not have said that, considering that both of them knew that it was not, in fact, just a dream. 

What should she do? It was not like she could debunk her mother’s fears by pointing out the flaws in her logic, because she was not supposed to know in the first place. Can you imagine her saying But mum! Zeus and Poseidon are in America, in the US, a whole ocean away from us! Or We’re so far from the godly hub that it definitely can't touch us!

No, that would make it so much worse. It might just snap that last thread of sanity connecting Sally to the real world. 

Her mother had gotten it in her head that this was an omen (it most likely was, but that was not the point).   

What should she do?

First, why would her mother, the solid, stable rock react like that?

According to psychology - her own comprehension of her mother’s mental processes -, this happened likely due to Sally’s certainty over her child’s safety. The main difference was, that for Percy Jackson, his mother was well aware and resigned to the fate that her son might endure.

Now though, her mother thought that she had maybe outsmarted the Fates - the gods -, but that belief was shaken over Essie’s precognition - dream. 

So now she wanted to run. Again. Because she thought that might give her daughter a better chance. 

Essie did not want to move. 

But she was stuck. 

“Fleeeuuuuuur!” Essie wailed into the mirror she charmed, that she definitely did not steal - plagiarise - from Potter slash Black. 

“Ce qui s'est passé?” Came Fleur’s alarmed voice, her flight or fight instincts kicking in.

“Mère!” She blubbered. “Mère veut nous emmener à l'autre bout de l'Europe!”

“Quoi?!” 

After calming down, she proceeded to explain the background processes that spiralled into them - Essie and her mother - possibly packing up and moving to Finland - a completely peaceful, laidback, chill country where nothing interesting happened. 

Finland also happened to not have very famous godly figures, not like Norway with the Vikings and Norse gods. 

That did not mean no gods though, just not very prominent ones. But that could be because Finland herself, was not very prominent. Besides, those gods had all but faded from view, leaving behind Christianity and the new faith. 

The same could be said for the Norse and Greek though. And from the Magnus Chase and Percy Jackson series, one could see that that did not mean much. 

Finland could be fun though. She could go skiing. And swimming - try out the Baltic sea, aka the almost lake. 

And she could play in snow.

And freeze to death.

Did they have magic school? There was no way she was going to settle for a normal, muggle slash mortal school.

Though Finland’s expulsion rate was very low - nonexistent.

But the food!

She did not want to be stuck eating Karjalanpiirakka or porridge! 

Or shops that closed at six pm. 

Wait, what year was it?

Yeah ok, Finland was still stuck at no sushi restaurants, ghost streets and malls that closed during weekends.

And barely any foreigners. 

Ouch. 

Mum! Don’t you know that we’d be grabbing more attention by wandering into such a closed off community? We’d be like the black sheep in a flock of white! 

Hopefully, Fleur would be able to turn on her Delacour charm, and be able to talk her mother out of the rabbit hole she had dug for herself.

She did not want to wait years to go shopping again.

I wrote this short story, that was started as a sentence with no plan:

What Remains After a Thousand Lives

I also thought of this story. Just the beginning and end, and a bunch in the middle that I was too lazy to write. So here’s that:

“I'll wait, for as long as you need.” He said, gazing at me with those utterly devoted eyes.

I smiled, nuzzling into him as happiness trickled in little by little until it was like a dam burst and I drowned in it.

I loved him. This man who always looked at me like I was the reason for all the good in his world.

This man who promised to stand by and support me, who still radiated love even though I had just rejected his proposal.

Truly, he was the best.

He was someone I could see myself traveling down the road of life with.

Someone who would stay when no else would.

———

I screamed, wrenching myself away from his grasp. Him, who once embodied home was now the demon that haunted my dreams, a shadow of malevolence that I couldn't escape.

He brushed it off, brushed me off, as if I wasn't worth taking seriously. As if my comfort, my wants and desires, mattered not in the face of his own.

He chuckled, softly, a sound once reassuring but now something I feared.

Smiling that same serene smile that matched the cold glint in his eyes, his following words - an echo of the ones I'd heard before but now held a completely different meaning -, sent a chill down my spine.

“It's fine.” He murmured, fingers skimming over the curves of my waist. “I'll wait, for as long as you need.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Essie breathed a sigh of relief. She was still going to live in France. And she was not in danger of being shipped off to Finland.

Since this period of turbulence had passed, it was time to get back to her old mischief.

Now where was Kuroi?

Oh shit, where was Kuroi?

Maybe the dorms?

Unlikely. Ever since that first day of school, where her dormmates had traumatised him, he tried to avoid the dorms for as long as possible.

He ambled around the school, spreading chaos and whatever, occasionally popping out to give her a report.

Going back down the memory lane - because her memory was weird like that.

First day of school, sorting ceremony and dining hall. Pets were not allowed. Kuroi was dropped off at her dorm… Where he accidentally freaked out her roommates who freaked him out in turn.

Camille tried to shoo him away, Amaranthe cowered, and Louise fled the room.

And when Essie finally managed to calm them down, Kuroi went into hiding…

And then he vanished. 

…But. And that was a very big but, he reappeared many times during the duration of her stay - otherwise she would be panicking a lot more.

Such as when he flew out of the bushes and landed on a classmate that she had been talking to at the time, giving her - the classmate - a cardiac arrest.

And when his nose poked out of the breakfast bowl, jolting everyone within seeing distance.

Though his visits deteriorated until…

Oh my god! Did she actually forget about her beloved bestie?

Oh no! 

He must be feeling so abandoned. 

She left him in the school. Grounds. Alone!

Essie got up in a flurry of motion, rocketing towards her mirror, ready to ask Fleur to “save” her baby.

“Fleur!” She yelled the moment the 'call' connected.

“Oui?” Fleur startled, looking puzzled but also rattled. Her previous call, still on her mind.

“Kuroi!” She screamed, a mimicry of a banshee’s screech as she paced back and forth, feeling guilty and distressed. 

“Kuroi?” The older girl blinked hesitantly, inquiringly. 

“Kuroi.” She affirmed. 

Fleur’s mouth parted into an “o” shape as she also remembered the furry menace. “Kuroi!”

“Yes yes! Kuroi!” The half goddess wailed. “Je l'avais oublié!”

“Je l'ai aussi oublié!” 

Yep, they both forgot about him. 

Essie and Fleur tore through the streets, racing for the academy like it was in walking distance - it was not -, praying, begging for the little menace to be alright. 

“Où l'as-tu vu pour la dernière fois?” Fleur panted, trying to narrow down their search area to something more manageable than the entire castle plus grounds.

Except, the black haired young female part-fish had absolutely no idea where she last saw her beloved pet. Something she explicitly conveyed to her friend through one wide-eyed, guilty expression. 

Fleur groaned. They stopped and took a moment to observe their surroundings. 

Their school, the chateau, stood miles and miles away, infinite uncountable kilometres. A vague outline near the mountains. A vague outline that they still could not see. 

Yeah, they were not going to make it there on foot. 

It was in times like these that Essie wished she had a pegasus. Blackjack. It sucked that her plan to avoid the gods resulted in her losing a possible partner - in crime. 

“So, what now?” She wondered, turning towards the part-Veela French nobility in search of an answer - preferably something like getting a ride. In a flying carriage. But no, that was reserved for Madame Maxime. 

Fleur, for all her knowledge and quick thinking, was utterly lost. 

That made two.

Two stranded, hopelessly stumped people.

There was no hope. Impromptu lessons on apparition would not work either, as even if they did manage to apparate, the grounds had wards that guarded against that.

Or she could try mist travel? Like what Poseidon did back then, years ago, when she was but a baby?

Trying never hurt. If she could master that skill, she would easily be able to get out of sketchy situations. Though even if she did manage to pull it off, then elucidations would be… difficult. And Fleur would definitely want one.

Whatever. That was a bridge to burn when she came to it. 

How should she begin? 

The human body was roughly sixty percent water - more, in her case, as a being spawned from a water deity. 

Molecules interacted with one another, forming bonds that held individuals together, working in tandem to fulfill life functions. 

Water coursed through cells, were the medium for metabolism to take place, surging through blood, carrying echoes of her father’s domain. 

And as all things that belong to her father’s domain, she had some degree of control. Proven when Percy Jackson could wrestle control from a goddess and turn her own poison against her. 

Compared to that, lording dominion over her own body should be child’s play. 

Essie turn to mist. Should not be too hard?

If Frank Zhang could shapeshift to his heart's desire, then she should be able to dissolve herself. 

And Fleur. But first herself. 

Her face screwed up in concentration. 

Fleur’s eyebrows furrowed, scrutinising her best friend like she was watching a horror-comedy show about to go down. An unsolicited audit of said best friend’s life choices.

Essie paid her no mind. 

She pictured her blood, the twisting network of channels that connected every part of her, the bridge between each organ, muscle and cell. Next she imagined the cytoplasm, the water present, and she envisioned it bubbling, turning to mist. 

It worked a little too well. 

Well, not well at all.

A sharp pain flared, searing through her as she stumbled, losing her balance - her ever so reliable bestie hurrying to her rescue. 

“Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?” Fleur fussed over her, alarmed and disconcerted over her sudden dizzy-spell.

“Je vais bien.” She replied bleakly. 

It was plain as day that she was not fine. Whatever she tried to do still sent shocks through her body, tremors as she attempted to get back on her feet.

Fleur put her foot down, lifting the muddled girl and turning back the way they came.

Essie protested. Protests that went ignored.

Staring yearningly at the mountains that framed her school, she watched as it shriveled from view, only to be replaced by winding roads and forest trees.

A path they had just walked.

She wanted to ask whether or not Fleur had ever heard the idea of ‘going forwards and never turn back?’ Because otherwise, why were they backtracking?

Six PM at the Jackson’s residence featured a forlorn demigod(dess). 

Fleur and Sally sat at the dining table, the gleaming surface of stone countertops reflecting the light as yellow tipped blue flames of the stove danced. A pot of soup sizzled, while plates and cutlery were set neatly to the side - ready for the picking. 

The faint sounds of a curious Gabrielle drifted in from the living room.

Essie sprawled sluggishly in her room, surrounded by soft plush toys, embroidered pillows and fluffy blankets. The lights were off, leaving the evening Sun as the only source of illumination. The Sun filtered in from the gauzy white curtains, painting an idyllic scene. Something that was further supported by the framed photographs and exquisite artworks that lined the wall. 

The ceiling was painted - inspired by Luna Lovegood -, depicting her favourite characters - from videogames, mangas or dongmans -, the sea, the galaxy and fantasy woodland creatures. 

A white dragon weaved between cracks, shimmering rainbow at different angles. 

Anime characters mid combat, firing off their epic moves. 

An ethereal nine-tailed-fox. Pure and bright, glow-in-the-dark paint. 

The sea churned, bioluminescent jellyfish spinning playfully in the waves.

A supernova explosion. 

A KitKat. Matcha bubble milk tea. Durian. Pizza. Blue candy and cookies. 

Anything and everything that held her fancy. However fleeting. 

A room that embodied all she was. 

Her. Not Percy. Not past her. Her her. 

A safe place for her to mope. 

Kuroi was absent. 

His bed, the cute, fuzzy, pink, cloud shaped nest, sprinkled with lustrous jewels and shiny gold, had a conspicuous Kuroi sized missing lump in the centre. An unfinished puzzle. Incomplete.

One that only needed that last piece. 

Why??? She whined, clutching at a stuffed niffler - its fur black and furry but not as silky as Kuroi’s.

She neglected him. For half a year. She left him alone, did not watch out for him, did not comfort him, did not even think about him. She practically abused him!

What if he got bullied and she did not know?

What if he got hurt, stuck in a dark, enclosed space and could not get out?

She would not be surprised if he left her. If he found someone new. Someone who could care for him better. Someone who would not mistreat him. 

Someone who would be there.

Nooooo!

She loved him!

She did not want him to leave!

He would not, would he? 

Why would he not? But she was his. Just like he was hers. They belonged together! 

Surely he knew that?

Don’t gooooo!  

She could not live without him.

She did not know what she would do if he actually left. 

If he decided that she was not worth it. 

“Dinner is ready. Would you be a dear and check on Essie for me?” Sally exhaled, busying around the kitchen, setting up the table.

Fleur nodded. She headed down the hallway, towards an elaborately painted, sparkly blue door. It depicted abstract waves, reminiscent of the ocean’s, as greens and blues glittered on its surface as if refracting the light.

She opened the door - a crack -, glancing in to see Essie’s prone form lying on the spacious - though cluttered - bed. 

Sliding in, she shut it behind her, a muffled barely-audible sound. 

“Hey.” She started, surveying the pile of misery. “Dinner is ready.”

No response. Unexpected. Normally, food was the ticket to her best friend’s attention. 

“Essie.”

Still nothing. 

Breathing out, she strode over to the bed, perched on it delicately, hovering over the younger girl. 

She settled a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder, steering her to face her. Essie’s red eyes gazed back, wet and glassy. Adorably pathetic. 

“Food?”

That got a response, though not the one she hoped for. The green eyed girl’s lower lip wobbled, tears gathering, about to fall. 

Fleur’s mind blanked, words roaring and fading, but nothing came up. 

What should she do? It was not like the situation was especially precarious. They knew where Kuroi was, and it was unlikely he would have gotten hurt in scuffles, since most if not all pets found in Beauxbatons were well trained. 

Unless he went looking for trouble intentionally, which was like him, but he was smart enough, and had a healthy dose of self-preservation. A lot more than Essie at least. 

“Em…” 

That questioning note was enough to propel the sensitive bundle into full on body-wracking sobs. If Fleur was struggling before, now she was a statue carved out of awkwardness. 

Essie had never cried before. Not when she broke an ankle in ballet, not when she fell off a building and crashed into the street lamp, and not when she got run over by a car during one of the trips to the muggle world. 

This, compared to previous experiences, was a lot more tame. So…?

A whimpered call of her name snapped her out of her daze. 

“It’s going to be fine. My parents are heading over to fetch him at this very moment.” She crooned soothingly. 

It did not seem to help much. Or at all.

At such a close distance, and at such an angle, it hit Fleur again, not for the first time, just how beguiling Essie’s eyes really were. Shifting colours, endless depths, as if meant to captivate. 

They glinted, light hidden within, sunlight weaving through warm waters. Turquoise, cyan, aqua, teal, incandescent green, all the shades and more she could not name. The wetness from her tears only served to highlight their otherworldliness. 

Gems. 

Like someone took diamonds, sapphires, aquamarines, paraiba tourmalines and emeralds, and fused them together, turning them into two, mesmerising, polished but fierce ellipsoids. But rocks, no matter how stunning, were not alive. Did not change with the seasons, did not surge and ebb with emotions - anger, happiness, love flowing through them. 

Which was why she could confidently state that Essie’s eyes were lovelier than the prettiest of gemstones. 

(And unreal. Sometimes. A lot of the time. She found herself wondering over her parentage. Not Sally, but the mysterious father that both Jacksons never mentioned. Because, Essie, she did not take after her mother at all. Feelings she got, often, usually when looking into those eyes she loved so much. She wasn’t human. Not like Fleur wasn’t fully, but-)

Though currently, those jewels were engulfed in despondency. Which did not detract from their beauty, but was still something she did not wish to see.

“Is something wrong?” She asked, voice breeze-like in its daintiness - ethereal and ephemeral.

Euphonius, dulcet tones reserved for fragile psyches. 

The other girl’s demeanor was vaporous - spun out of gossamer, weightless and frail -, which was why she did not expect it when Essie, without any warning, lunged at her, movements quick and heavy, stealing the air from her lungs when arms and legs wrapped tightly around her in a choking hold.

(Another thing she marveled over was her deceptive strength. Tiny, thin build with no noticeable muscle. Legs that could keep up with a sprinting horse. It wasn’t norm-)

“Fleurrrr!” Essie bawled, keening sounds escaping between hiccups. 

“Yes?” She encouraged, adjusting her grip to better carry the new weight - silvery-blonde hair spilling over the two of them in a consoling caress. 

The demigoddess blinked, wet drops adhering to her lashes, dying them an even darker shade. “...What if Kuroi doesn’t want me anymore?”

Fleur paused. This was what was eating her up?

“No, no. Of course not. Where did you get this silly idea from?”

The still crying girl feebly shrugged. It was common sense. To her. The product of logical deduction from quick-fire assumptions, split-second observations and delves into past memories and course of actions. The product of a single brain cell working overtime. 

“I forgot about him.” She sniffled.

Fleur sighed. “You were busy. It was a new environment. There was so much stimulation. It is inevitable that you will pay less attention. Not to mention that leaving school grounds wasn’t originally part of the equation.”

Essie shook her head stubbornly. “No! I abandoned him. Even though he’s my soulmate. The Yang to my Yin!”

Closing her eyes, Fleur dropped her head onto her best friend’s - the certified idiot’s -  shoulder. 

“He won’t.” She declared, voice strong and certain.

“How do you know?” Essie probed, doubtful but hopeful.

The part-Veela tilted her head. “Have I ever been wrong?”

This sent a zap of mischief shooting through the younger girl. “Well, that time in school when-”

“Yeah, no.” Fleur shushed her, “That doesn’t count. What counts is-”

Essie giggled.

Breathing out for the nth time, Fleur prepared to get up. “Dinner will be cold soon.”

Nodding in acceptance, Essie took her hand. She led them to the kitchen where snacks and junk food awaited - with a pot of soup because health and nutrition was still a must.

“All good?” Sally offered warmly.

“Uhuh.” Both girls confirmed, though only Essie vocalised it.

“You should be happy to note that Kuroi will reach home any minute now.”

As a mother who prided herself in knowing her daughter, she smiled amusedly at the anticipated imaginary tail that wagged behind Essie, tears forgotten and apprehension gone. 

“Wait seriously?”

Fleur lifted a perfect eyebrow, leveling her with a mock-stern glare. “Wasn’t that what I told you just now?”

Essie rubbed her neck abashedly. 

The doorbell rang.

“Well, are you gonna invite them in?”

“Oh!” The previously forlorn demigoddess yelped. “Right.”

She dashed out of the kitchen, the pitter patter of feet and clanging of objects following in her wake.

Fleur and Sally stared knowingly at each other. 

“Don’t trip!”

“Madame Yana won’t be pleased if you land yourself in the medwing again!”

Gabrielle lifted her head, puzzled eyes drawn to the racket. Initial interest lost, she brushed it off. She was used to her sister’s friend’s shenanigans. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

“Kuroi!!!”

Essie’s overjoyed wails reverberated throughout the house as she bounded happily to the entrance. 

Swinging open the door, she was greeted by an equally enthusiastic Kuroi, who pawed indignantly at her.

“I know!!! I’m sorry!!! I’ll make it up to you! I promise!!!” 

Peppering his face with kisses and snuggling him into her, she proceeded to twirl on the spot. Apolline and Monsieur Delacour stood at the entrance, bemused. 

Sally shook her head in charmed indulgence. 

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” She asked, directing a silent ‘thanks’ to the Delacours for delivering Kuroi home, safe and sound.

“No, we have something coming up.” Monsieur Delacour’s brows furrowed, as he checked his pocket watch. 

“But Fleur and Gabrielle can stay, if it is fine by you.” Apolline interjected. Gabrielle perked up at the mention of her name, while Fleur shot a ‘thumbs up’ - through body language and not, you know, an actual thumbs up - and an inquiring look towards the mistress of the house.

“Of course.” Sally chuckled, “They’re always welcome.”

With one last look, Apolline and her husband retreated, closing the door behind them. Sally turned back to the kids. “Who’s hungry?”

Essie happily chomped down on the food, Kuroi working his meal down beside her. Gabrielle too, ate with contentment. Fleur eyed them sternly, before deciding to let the infringement of etiquette go. 

It had been a while since Essie could enjoy a meal in peace. Usually, it was either interrupted by friends, who thought badgering her with questions and platitudes was more helpful than letting her eat in peace. 

It was not. 

If she was suffering, then let her suffer in peace, alone, with only her food to accompany her! That was what was best for her. But did they care? Nooo!

And no, it was not an attack against Fleur. Though she would really appreciate it if said girl could release her hold on her chocolate stack. 

She wanted her chocolates. 

Though technically now… Well, she had her mother. “Mum.” She whined, baby seal eyes powered to the max.

She craved sweets. Desserts that had been banned from her diet ever since her health ‘deteriorated’ but was really just her sleep quality that declined. 

Her health was perfectly fine. She could sprint faster, jump higher, and hold a plank longer than anyone else. She never got sick, and her brain was as hyperactive as ever. 

So she really could not understand why dessert privileges were being withheld. 

“Yes, darling?” Her mother tilted her head quizzically, though the only response she got was huge, wet eyes that glistened even more. Sally leaned forward, concern shining in her own gaze. 

A scoff from Fleur broke the silence. “Elle veut juste un dessert.”

Sally: “...”

Essie: “...”

Well, a point to Fleur for knowing her so well. Though did she really need to debunk her so quickly? Let her enjoy the mothering that might have ended with her being stuffed full with food. 

Dessert. 

Sugary stuff, preferably. 

“Moi aussi je veux un dessert.” Gabrielle piped up, sizzling with excitement at the mere mention of the word ‘dessert.’

Yes! Finally someone that could be counted on!

“Non.” Fleur replied flatly.

Gabrielle stared, gobsmacked. Her lips trembled as her eyes widened, unblinking as tears slowly condensed.

“Bien.” Fleur groaned, conceding. The littlest part-Veela lit up. Essie too, lit up, though she immediately wilted at the older girl’s following words, “Pas toi, Essie.”

“Pourquoi?!” The girl who had just been rejected dessert cried out in sheer frustration at the unfairness and the partiality that had just occurred right in front of her.

She swivelled to her mother, the one  with the actual authority. Tragically, Sally turned a blind eye to her pleading daughter, and chose to busy herself with arranging plates, dirty cutlery and leftover food. 

And so, Essie was left to fight a losing battle. Alone.

To make matters worse, Gabrielle was happily munching on her own unhealthy snacks. 

So unfair!

Spring signalled the start of school. 

The beginning of monotony and endless repetitions of wake up, get up, eat, go to class, suffer, go to another class, suffer again, eat again, class and suffer, again, end the school day after hours of torture, and then another meal, and finally suffer through the piles of homework left by inconsiderate teachers who thought that students only had that one class, and that they did not need to juggle piles of lectures and materials on top of that one class that that one specific teacher taught. 

In other words, navigate through dump filled waters, while teachers consistently littered, more and more, thinking that they were the only ones that existed, and that the other teachers were just there. For decoration.

Meaning they did not stop to ruminate, whether the workload was doable. For students. Who had more classes than one.

And so, that was why Essie was acting out this scene, theatrically sprawled on the poster bed, hand against her forehead as she faked a faint. “I’M DYING!!! THIS IS GOING TO KILL MEEEEE!!!!” She bawled loudly, words bellowing out in almost visible waves, passing through walls, stairs, and sparkling marble, until even the people outside the castle were wondering what the hell was going on.

“Ferme-la!” Camille snapped, throwing a pillow in her direction.

The demigoddess gasped, offense visible in her still-theatrical demeanor. “Ferme-la, toi!” She snapped right back, before collapsing once again onto the soft, fluffy surface of her bed, clutching Kuroi to her, fake-sobbing.

On her own bed, Amaranthe laid dead. Metaphorically, and maybe physically, but not literally. 

Shuffling of scrolls, books, the seeping of spilled ink and a general mess of utter disorganisation was Louise, who was frantically muttering under breath as she tried her best to write the thesis that was a potions essay.

Way too long to be humanly possible, not at all appropriate for elementary - middle? - school children. 

Essie let out another long wail - that was interrupted by a pillow thrown full-force at her by Camille.

“Oh you are so on!”

That announced the start to an epic pillow fight that would soon spread to the other dorms, until it escalated to include the whole Ombrelune and even the people outside.

But instead of getting extra credit for the facilitation of interhouse relations, she got detention.

No words can adequately convey her grievance. (Especially since it wasn’t even her who made the first move.)

“Détention! Non! Vous êtes expulsé!” Her teacher shrieked, face purpling as she frothed with fury. 

They… lasted longer than she thought they would. It had been more than two years since that first incident, and yes, she was surprised that it took her almost half a year before she got into actual trouble, but magic school really was more accommodating.

Though it appeared that even they had limits. 

After one too many Kuroi incidents, academy-wide wars, free-for-alls, explosions, and maybe also mysterious teacher makeovers, they finally had enough. Though she seriously doubted that her teacher had the authority to expel her.

…but the headmistress did. And Madame Maxime happened to dislike her.

Bye bye Beauxbatons. It was getting boring anyways. All those etiquette lessons and ‘how to maintain your - our - image’ bullshit. 

So sorry Fleur. It looked like her destiny was about to take her elsewhere. 

“Hogwarts!” Essie yelled, shooting up from her previous lazy form. “What do you mean Hogwarts? Aren't there so many other schools? Like the one in America? Brazil? Up north? Japan!?” 

Why not Japan? Japan was lovely. Way lovelier than Hogwarts, where Mister Protagonist called home. What would happen if two main characters clashed? Would the plot or whatever still hold? Did plot even exist?

And she was spiralling again. 

Sally inhaled a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation up ahead. “No to America, Durmstrang unfortunately will not accept you, even if it was one of the considered options, which it is not, and why Japan?”

“Uuuh, because it’s awesome, it has good food, hot men, what else can one hope for?” 

Sally stared at her daughter in disbelief. “If you actually go to Japan, I assure you, your ‘hot men’ misconception will be dismantled rather quickly.”

“You didn’t say anything ‘bout the food!” Essie gleefully pointed out.

Sally turned her head skywards, as if imploring Zeus to take her out of her misery. “Madame Maxime has been ever so kind as to apply for you, and Hogwarts was the only school that accepted.”

Ouch. She blamed the plot.

“Fine.” She said petulantly. “But this doesn’t mean I’m happy.”

On the bright - or dark - side, she would never get expelled again. If she got expelled while Harry Potter got the greenlight, yeah, forget about Voldemort, she was burning the school down.

Well, time to call Fleur.

And to wrap up her - their - business. It was not just her, after all. Her mother was coming with.

England. Scotland. The United Kingdom. 

A whole new world. At least she would finally get to see for herself if the English stereotypes were true. Probably not. But ticking off lists would be fun. She would have to make one first though.

Nah.

Spontaneity was paragon. 

Bucket lists existing only as thoughts were the embodiment of what people should strive for. 

How fast could she drive Hermione Granger into insanity?

…That line of thinking was what got her expelled.

But moving on, yes, apart from - or because of - story main character dangers, Hogwarts offered brilliant opportunities. Whether it be opportunities for amusement, food, or fictional characters, all of them would - hopefully - make her time there worth it.

Besides, it was not like she was going to stay long. She knew that once the war truly broke out, her mother would whisk them back to France.

Maybe even before that.

Sally Jackson cared for nothing but her daughter’s safety. And the moment she felt threatened, it was goodbye.

Forever.

Now she was being dramatic. But you got the gist.

“We’re leaving in three days. If we leave quickly, you might be able to finish the rest of your school year.”

Huh? What? She was not going to get a break?

Wait, that was not the point. Did she really want to go when dementors were stationed around hunting for Sirius Black?

Waiiiit! She thought she only had to worry about the tournament. Now you are telling her she needs to worry about exams? And Black?!

“Muuum! Why don’t I start in the fall? That’ll make more sens-”

“Darling. It’s better to get a feel for the situation first.” Sally hummed.

Essie protested. “No it’s not! I’m perfectly fine starting later!” 

“But you’ll be left behind.” The ‘worried’ mother frowned.

“I’m like above average! Like almost the top of my year!”

“Sure honey. Whatever you say.”

Gee thanks mum. She was really feeling the support. 

“Mum! I heard that there’s this serial killer running around wild. Why don’t we-”

Sally chuckled lightly before reaching out to ruffle her daughter’s hair. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Beat him up for me if he does anything, yeah?”

…was she the same person who was panicking over her ‘ominous’ dreams? Or was she only worried over godly affairs?

Even if she was part god, she was still vulnerable!

Like twice as vulnerable. 

Mum! You have to take my safety seriously! She wailed, staring at her mother with wobbling lips.

Sally paid her no mind.

Adults.

They made no sense.

None whatsoever.

Time to get packing. And find a way to sneak Kuroi in. 

The Weasley twins would absolutely love him.

Oooh! She should collaborate with them. (And make Dumbledore regret accepting her, but realistically, it was most likely McGonagall or Snape who was going to suffer a migraine. Justice for the employees!)

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

Dear Newt,

I think you will be very happy to hear that I have transferred, not of my own volition, you can thank Beauxbatons for that, to your old school. You know, Hogwarts? Yeah, that one. I would be really happy if you offered some tips. Like the best hiding spots, the friendliest creatures, secret pathways, Hufflepuff password, just to check whether or not they changed it since your time.

And you can tell me the names of the people who advocated for your expulsion. I can avenge you, the start of the villain arc!

Your favorite person in the whole, wide world.

The one and only,

Elesteria Zosime Jackson

P.S. Please get me a dragon. Kuroi has also been looking for a new friend. A phoenix is fine too. And snakes. Preferably the ultra venomous ones. 

Sally sat alone at the dining table, a newspaper in hand and the TV broadcasting the latest news. On the table was her phone, opened to the recent articles about the happenings of America. More specifically, New York. 

In simple terms, it was a disaster.

Since that one winter, when Essie’s dreams had at last reached her attention, she had started paying attention to the situation in America. Leaving it be had been a mistake. Akin to turning your back on a very much still living, flaming, greedy dragon. 

At first, it was fine. No unnatural storms, malevolent weather or unpredictable tornados. 

Then, one day, the situation changed.

It was like a dam had been released, flooding out and destroying everything in its path. Tearing through terrains, massacring the vulnerable populations of America. 

Currently, deaths numbered from the hundreds to thousands, with many more displaced and missing. Skyscrapers had collapsed, and the Empire State Building had ceased to exist, leaving a huge cloud, invisible to most, floating high above, crackling with lightning and thunder.

And then - there were the oceans.

Sometimes, it briefly crossed her mind whether the choice to take Essie and run was the wrong one. Feelings that resurfaced whenever she saw news station reports, and the despair of people.

But it was not Essie’s fault. 

Essie was a child.

She should not have to take care of her father’s messes. 

The gods’ immaturity.

She deserved better. Her baby deserved a peaceful life. One filled with happiness and contentment, where she would never fear for her own survival, whether it be by capricious gods, or bloodthirsty monsters.

So Sally resolved to be selfish. 

Was it really selfish?

Some people would say yes. The suffering masses of America would likely say yes. But others might see reason. What was the sense in asking children to take care of the problem?

A problem caused by millennium old beings. 

Who should know better.

Here, on the other side of the globe, the effects of the tantrums were not as clearly felt. It was as much a blessing as a curse. It meant Essie could live freely. Everything Sally had ever hoped for. But it also meant that she was burdened with guilt.

Guilt that worsened, when she found that her unease stemmed more from how it would affect her daughter, and not the immense amount of lives that were cut short. 

Her daughter was her priority. 

But was one life truly worth the millions? Civilians who were clueless, who did not even know why this tragedy was happening in the first place.

Demigods were heroes. 

They got honour, recognition for remarkable feats of goodness.

Saviours. 

Sally was only a mortal. Slightly more gifted perhaps, or cursed as others would call it.

She did not want her child to be a hero.

(It felt as if that wish was drifting further and further away. Her past was catching up, and there was nothing Sally could do to chase it away.)

Hogwarts was nice. Arguably less beautiful than Beauxbatons, less ethereal and dreamy. But Hogwarts was more… solid. Warmer, more down-to-earth but still magical in her own way. A suitable comparison would be that Beauxbatons was a fairytale palace, not too dissimilar to Snow White’s Prince Charming’s white glory, delicate and pretty in a more ephemeral way, while Hogwarts better resembled a majestic castle hidden deep in the depths of forests.

Strong, impenetrable - a fortress of walls built to defend.

A fortress that would fall in less than three years.

“C’mon, yeh still got loads ter see yet.” Hagrid, the groundskeeper, grunted sunnily. Deceptively harmless, unlike what his superficial constitution would suggest.

Okay, maybe not harmless, she amended, recalling Hagrid’s deeds, the heroics he had achieved during the wars, rebellions, and in general, support of his friends.

“Yeah! I can’t wait!”

And for once, Essie found herself anticipating. That tiny fan-part of her jumped with glee, unleashed at the thought of meeting her first canon characters. Apart from herself and her mother. And Newt. And Fleur and her family. But yeah…

Hagrid already was a bundle of joy. A teddy bear that occasionally dragged in dangerous creatures, much like a pet cat would. Just that they would not be dead, and that his self-preservation instincts were that of a panda. 

“Here in tha’ lake yeh’ll fin’ the gian’ squid, friendly enough, don’ yeh worry. An’ o’ course there’s the merfolk, them yeh’ll want ter watch out fer. Aha! An’ the thestrals—”

“Thestrals!?”

“Oh, er. Well, they're nice, see. Won' hurt a fly. Got a bad rep 'cause o' superstition an' stuff, bu' really, they’re sweethearts.” He explained, eyes shimmering with the need for her to take his words.

“Of course! I’ve always wanted one… but well.” She pouted, thinking back on the various rejections, “Newt never agrees. He says that they’re too much work. He only lets me keep Kuroi.” Digging her hands into her bag, she pulled out the rumpled companion and presented him to Hagrid, “This little blighter by the wa-”

“Niffler!”

“Yeah!” She cheered.

“Newt?” The friendly giant rubbed his beard. “Yeh know him?”

“Yeah! He was the one who told me I’m a witch!” 

His eyes lit up. “Did yeh know, it was me tha' tol' Harry he wa' a wizard?”

“Really!?” Essie leaned into the drama, gasping exaggeratedly, cusping her face with both hands. “That’s so cool!”

Hagrid nodded enthusiastically. 

Between the jovial rapport, an impromptu pet checkup that ended with a satiated Kuroi, a jolly Hagrid and a delighted Essie, they officially lost track of time. 

Until the headmaster himself decided to track them down and grace them with his presence. At last, she got a glimpse - less a glimpse and more a full on stare - of Professor Dumbledore’s infamous twinkly blues.

“Miss Jackson, how good to see you still with us. For a moment we feared you’d been misplaced somewhere along the journey, though I see now the delay was only Hagrid.”

Hagrid flushed, but beamed. He held up Kuroi like a trophy - and Kuroi let him. Seemed he was not the beast tamer for nothing - and rumbled out, “Wa’ jus’ givin’ him a li’l check’up.”

“Marvelous, Hagrid. He looks positively radiant, probably had a better breakfast than I did!”

“Of course.” Essie cut in imperiously. “He’s mine.”

Dumbledore blinked, then chuckled softly. “Of course. I can see where he gets it from.”

She preened.

“But now, we really must be off. School won’t wait forever.” Dumbledore beckoned her forwards, herding her towards the castle.

She blew out a breath. She did not need the reminder. 

Waving goodbye to the high-spirited Professor of all things dangerous, she jogged lightly, stepping into pace with the headmaster who was still so tall, even at his age. 

Curious students milled around, doing double-takes at either their ‘elusive’ headmaster, or because of the transcendental beauty walking in stride with said powerful warlock. 

She really was beautiful, Essie sighed, admiring herself. That must be why everyone was gawking. 

Truly, her looks knew no bounds. 

Must be her mother’s genes.

“So, what now? There’s like an hour of classes right? Before the day ends?”

“Indeed. Hagrid was supposed to show you around, but I daresay that plan flew straight out the window.”

Essie hummed in agreement. “You’re giving me the tour?”

“Why, of course!” The ancient fossil chirped. “No one else could possibly be free, after all.”

She gave him a judgemental look. “How nice of you to admit to running your employees ragged while you relax.”

“Ah! Now, Miss Jackson, that’s where you’re mistaken. I assure you, I am quite busy!”

“Yeaaah.” She drawled. “Busy.” 

Dumbledore recognised a losing battle whenever he saw one. He resigned himself to the misunderstanding, taking the fact that Miss Jackson was still young as consolation. 

“Here-” He exclaimed, spreading his arms wide, “Is the entrance!”

Essie raised an eyebrow. “How… impressive.”

She was being sarcastic. 

“And here-” He waltzed into another area, “Is the Great Hall!”

The Great Hall was even more spectacular than what was depicted in the movies. It was actually real. The ceiling and the skies blended seamlessly, candles, sprawling tables and the pedestal lending to the exhilarating feel of oh my gosh. I’m in a fictional world!

Technically she was in two fictional worlds but…

“It is here that you will be sorted!”

Okaayyy. Was she supposed to be surprised?

“Now that all is said and done, you’re free to go. Off you trot! Do make some friends while you’re at it.”

Essie gaped. What? That was it? And now she was given free reign? Had Madame Maxime not written a complaint letter, or a full novel of the misdeeds she had done, when she was bored and alone?

With those last merry words of farewell - dismissal -, the headmaster turned on his heels and swanned out of the area, leaving Essie standing, by herself, while bystanders - random students - treated her like the newest, most interesting exhibit. 

She wanted home. Not England home. France home. Her room, the very personification of the word ‘aesthetic’, her food, pastries and sweets - crepes -, and Fleur.

Shaking off her suddenly somber mood, she resolved to have some fun. And hopefully make Dumbledore regret her lack of supervision. 

First up, find those secret pathways and rooms. The Room of Requirement was very specifically described, but maybe too suspicious, since this was her first day. 

No. She was not going to be following ‘instructions’ the old-fashioned, boring way. 

She was going on an adventure. 

Which included poking her nose where it did not belong.

Very main character vibe, right? That was basically what Harry Potter did during his entire school career.

She could feel her professors greying already. 

Two main characters in a single building. What could go wrong?

It was harder than she thought it would be. 

She had released Kuroi, allowing him to roam to his heart’s content, but so far, all that had culminated into, was the both of them getting lost.

Were ancient premises such as these not allegedly a maze of hidden passages and forgotten spaces?

Why was it that even now, after days of walking, sniffing around and bashing walls, that not a single thing worthy of being noted had been yielded?

Stumbling across yet another knight, she tried disturbing this one too. 

Yep, nope. Nothing

At this point, Hogwarts probably thought she had a screw loose.

She was not denying it, but damn was the judgement heavy.

From both the living and the not.

Maybe Dumbledore had given her babysitters after all. Or he already knew that the portraits would do his job for him.

Unfortunately for him, there was not much animated - but still two-dimensional - objects could do. 

So woohoo. 

It was Essie time!

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

Eventually, Essie bumped into a ghost. Well, it was less ‘bumped into’ and more ‘wheee!’

As in the moment she saw Sir Nicholas, she decided to test out the ‘ghost is ice-cold’ theory, and leapt right through him. 

And yes. He was cold.

Which was why she was plastered over the warmest surface available: the window. More specifically, the wood part where the Sun was beating down on. Though there was not much of one. Dusk was coming way too soon in her opinion.

“Good heavens, miss! Are you quite all right?”

Essie moved her head sluggishly, the regret from ill-thought decisions emanating from her shivering form. Sir Nicholas drifted restlessly, wanting to help, but having no idea what to do.

He inched closer, bringing with him that frigid coldness that further impeded her recovery. “Ah, terribly sorry.” He apologised, zooming backwards - away from her. 

“N-no p-p-pr-prob-bl-lem.” She stuttered out, teeth chattering, muscles tight, blood vessels constricted. “‘S-s M-my f-f-fa-aul-lt a-an-nyw-way-ys.” 

(Clutched in her grasp, Kuroi too, shivered with uncontrollable tremors. Great. Essie wanted to pull stupid shit, and she just had to pull him down with her.)

Sir Nicholas cast her another worried look. That purple tint was quite alarming, he would say. While he had run into - in the literal sense - students in the past, they had never been so …afflicted. At least, it had never lasted this long before they returned to the way they were, prior to the encounter. 

“Wo-”

“There!” She exclaimed, pushing off the ledge, “All better. Gosh, why is England so cold!?”

“I am most gratified to see you restored,” He ‘exhaled’ with relief, wiping away an imaginary sweatdrop, “Though, if I may beg pardon for pointing it out, we are, regrettably, not in England.” 

And so, she entered a brief staring contest, two versus one, which she - and Kuroi - lost, because, well, Sir Nicholas did not need to blink, and so, before it could get even more awkward, because yes, it was possible to get even more awkward than ‘I’ve been inside you’ which sounded… very wrong now that she ran that phrasing through once again…

 “Cool. Where can I get a mug of hot chocolate?”

“Aha!” Sir Nicholas brightened, an imperious air bellowing out of him, “Down the hall, down the grand staircase, and past the Hufflepuff common room, you will find a-”

“-painting and tickle the pear! Got it! Nice meeting you! Bye!”

And with a cheerful salute, she sped down the direction his hand was pointing, leaving him frozen in utter bafflement as the dust kicked off from her propulsion scattered around the scene. 

“Hmm… perhaps I ought to have told her dinner was being served right at this moment?” 

After careful consideration, he shrugged it off and resumed his mindless wandering around the castle. “In all fairness, most students do discover the Hall on their own eventually…”

Most likely she would too.

The trek went great. Sir Nicholas had given resplendently clear instructions, and so, she - and Kuroi - had easily found themselves standing in front of a fruit bowl painting. 

“So… Do you want to do the honours?” 

Kuroi deadpanned, body still quivering from the ghost shock.

“I’ll do it then!”

With a flourish, she swiped her finger down the pear, and like magic, it giggled and transformed, and wow.

There was nothing like this in Beauxbatons. 

This was the difference. A castle with a millennium old history, enriched with the lifeforces of the millions that had passed through, nourished by the love freely given by many that had called her their home. 

But now-

House elves!

She could count so many of them!

Actually, there were so many she could not count them at all!

“Hel-” Her greeting never fully made it past her lips, before she was bombarded by enthusiastic elves hellbent on feeding her their latest concoctions.

Which was cute.

Kuroi was having the time of his life, enjoying the pampering of awed house elves. A vision of bliss and relaxation, the perpetual state of a retiree.

“Oh!” Essie clapped her hands, “You know, there’s this thing called matcha. It is the best thing EVER!”

The house elves nodded with wide, amazed eyes, neurons firing a billion times per second as they raced to ‘catalogue’ her exquisite, exotic tastes and scrumptious delicacies they had never heard of before. 

“There’s this stuff called mochi. Mochi is the general term, daifuku is the term for mochis with filling, kikufuku is a specific type of daifuku mochi and DANGO! Dangos are the absolute best! They are firmer, more compact, and they are soooo good! You should absolutely try it! You can make it from rice flour, mochis are made from glutinous rice, and yes, there is a difference, and they are SOOO good, it's absolutely a crime if you don’t try it at least once in your life!”

They ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed,’ excitement gleaming in their frenzied motions. They listened intently, focused on absorbing as much of the ‘lesson’ the young foreigner was imparting. 

“It’s Japanese, and let me tell you, Japanese delicacies are so jaw-droppingly gorgeous on top of being heart-meltingly delicious that you just have to introduce it to the palates of these… Brits. Not that English food is bad but… You will never know good food unless you try Asian cuisine. On top of Japanese, Malaysian is also one of my favourites. It's a fusion, a mix of all sorts of different cultures! Oh, and you will never know ‘spicy’ until you have tried those. Soup noodles, the least spiciest level, will have you drooling as you hurriedly chug down ice water, and Syrup Bandung! The most heavenly drink in existence! It’s rose, like literally its essence, plus milk, and it smells so good. Like the aroma! Oh! And there’s Satay! The lamb ones! So goo- THE CHICKEN WINGS! The ones found in the streets! It’s so sweet and even BETTER than KFC! And Chinese tofu! This starter dish that is, cow? It’s called fuqi feipian, made from various… parts of cows, but it’s soooo good! And mapo tofu! With rice! And EGGPLANTS AND OKRA! Fuqi feipian and mapo tofu are a different branch of spicy. It’s numbing. This tingling sensation while Malaysian food such as Asam Laksa is burning but they’re both so good! There’s this thing called Pad Thai, it’s Thai, and it is THE BEST stir-fried noodles you can EVER eat! It’s sweet, a feast for peanut lovers and it’s so-”

The entrance to the kitchen swung open, twin heads of fiery-orange peeked in, brown clashing with manic, oceanic green. 

“...And there’s this delicious fruit called durian. Musang King is the best, because it has been specially cultivated by farmers through special selection of the best genes of the durian family, which means that it has a lot of flesh and really tiny seeds, which is good, because who wants to crack open their fruit only to find like, a thousand seeds?! Though XO is really good too, and oh hey there. Do you also want to listen to my lecture on good food?”

Fred and George, because they had to be Fred and George, the troublemaker twins, exchanged a quick glance before broad grins split open their faces. 

“Why of course.” One of them - Fred? - held a hand over his heart in mock solemness. 

“Sounds splendid.” The other piped up, swooning dramatically. 

“Famished already.”

The other turned towards his counterpart with faux gravity, “Right there with you Gred.” 

“Natrurally Forge.” The other replied, stroking a nonexistent beard.

Essie blinked, then threw her head back and laughed. Her laughter rang loud and true, jolting the house elves out of their stupor. They yelped, some rushing around, checking on stoves, ovens and the likes, while others swarmed the twins, apologising profusely for the perceived ‘slight.’

“So-”

“-you’re the-”

“-new kid?”

Essie sniffed, flicking her hair behind her like those cliche Queen Bee teenage popular girls, fully geared with the aura of ‘I’m God’s gift to mankind,’ which she kind of was. 

Um… Poseidon?

“What makes you think that? Maybe I’m just another ordinary pupil whom you have not come across yet.”

The twins exchanged yet another non-verbal gesture, Fred? George? She was pretty sure Fred was the ‘outgoing’ one out of the two of them, so… Fred? 

One of them burst into cackles, quickly followed by the other.

“Hey!” Essie squawked, pretending to be offended. 

“Trust us.” Ginger one wiped away a stray droplet from the corner of his eye.

The other smirked, “We would never-”

“-forget-” 

“-someone as stunning as you.” They finished in unison. 

The ‘stunning’ demigoddess, as they called it, nodded approvingly. “I see you have eyes. And good taste.” Shaking her head mournfully, she sighed as if she was grieving the rarity of such an occurrence. “It’s truly unfortunate how little people, in this time and age, appreciate greatness when they see it.”

It was like a lightbulb flicked on inside Ginger One and Two, their eyes misting as they gazed in awe at their ‘third,’ long-lost ‘triplet.’ 

“Right you are!” Declared one of them, ‘choking’ at the reminder that was the disappointment of this generation.

“How truly rare.” The other ‘sobbed’ into a magically conjured napkin. 

“I know!” Essie wailed, hands fluttering, fanning herself as she ‘fainted.’ 

“Oh nooo!” One of them cried out.

“Don’t die!” The other flung his arms out to ‘catch’ her.

“I know-” 

“-it’s horrible-”

“But-”

“You must carry on!” 

Meanwhile, standing wisely to the side, the house elves watched the unfolding of the comedy that was a theatrical performance starring one, Essie Jackson, and two, Fred and George Weasley. 

Kuroi did not bother - at all. He continued munching away at his (pet safe) treats, surrounded by shiny objects that the house elves had oh, so graciously procured for him. 

“Sirs and miss. Me be thinking it be time for dinner.”

Silence descended on the room, the three idiots cocked their heads to the side in synchronised confusion. 

“Dinner?” Essie muttered. “Isn’t that why we’re here? In the kitchen?”

“Oh!” One of the twins slammed a palm against their forehead. Spinning on his heel, he instantly turned on his twin, jabbing him with an accusing finger. “Now why didn’t you remind me?”

“Excuse me?! You were supposed to remind me!” The other retorted indignantly.

“Now why would I do that?”

“Why would I do that?!”

Essie faked a cough. “Gentlemen, please refrain from fighting.”

Ginger Two hummed in agreement. “Right you are!”

“We should be focused on fixing this problem!”

“Which isn’t a problem at al-”

“What misters be doing down here, me wonders.” Came a squeaky voice, lined with suspicion and accompanied by a pointed spatula.

Yikes.

The twins blanched. They whistled, suddenly finding opposing walls very interesting. 

“Aha!” Essie shouted triumphantly. “You want to poison the rest of the student body!”

“Oh wait a minute-” They flapped their hands, vehemently denying this allegation.

“No, you’re-”

“-completely-”

“-maybe not completely wrong-” One of them cleared his throat nervously. 

“-certainly not seeing the biggest pictur-”

“Great! I’m in.” Essie’s tone, lighthearted and anticipatory, sent the neural signals of Fred and George Weasley screeching to a halt.

“Huh?”

Unfortunately before they could properly rejoice, an angry house elf barreled in. “Not in me kitchen yous will not!”

“Aww.” Essie pouted.

“Pleaaasse.” Three identical expressions pleaded.

And so, that was how the three of them ended up being kicked out. 

Essie whined petulantly, “Kuroi’s still in there!”

The two menaces snapped to attention. “Kuroi?”

“Yup. My niffler.”

A gasp, whirring minds filled with malevolent schemes. “You have a niffler?”

“Can we borrow it?”

Essie narrowed her eyes. “Him. And no, you may not. Though if he’s bored, he’ll probably join whatever chaos unleashing thing you cook up.”

“I love you.” Ginger One proclaimed, suddenly on one knee as his twin echoed his statement with punctuated noises of assent. 

“That’s so sweet. But how can you love someone you don’t even know the name of?”

“It matters little in the grand plan that is the universe, our souls have aligned, and now the stars-”

“I’m George. He’s Fred. Weasley. Pleasure to meet you.” The ‘calmer’ twin held out a hand, which she eagerly shook. Fred stood, jaw ajar as he stared at his twin with complete betrayal 

“You-! How could you do this to me!?”

“I’m Essie. Elesteria Jackson, but that’s a mouthful so...” She flashed a dazzling smile. 

Fred paced about, a frustrated sulk burrowing into his visage.

Abruptly back to normal, he slung strong arms over the shoulders of who he now knew to be Essie, an extra weight that would have toppled her over had it not been for the subtle underlying support and her own superhuman strength. “It is truly unfortunate that you couldn’t be welcomed with our special brand of brilliance-”

“-but as dear, miss Kitchen Tyrant had said-” George picked off.

“-it is, indeed, time for dinner.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

It turned out that it was time for dinner, and that she was supposed to be here ages ago. It was not her fault though. Dumbledore had not mentioned a single thing before he went merry-daddling on his way. 

Of course that did not stop the - dare she say it - apprehensive look on both Severus Snape’s and Minerva McGonagall’s faces. Though that might be because both twins were flanking her. Yes, she could see how the professors would not take too kindly to that.

Something about bad influences. 

(She herself was the worst influence, but hey, maybe she and the twins could multiply their bad influences to get a gigantum bad influence? Did it work that way? Probably not. Or yes because they could brush ideas and-)

She had only now realised that their names were alliterations. Minerva McGonagall, ‘M’ and ‘M’, Severus Snape, ‘S’ and ‘S’, and also ‘H’ and ‘H’...Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindow, ‘G’ and ‘G’, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw… How did she not realise earlier?!

Luna Lovegood. Cho Chang. Gellert Grindelwald. Ted Tonks. Wait, that was a nickname… 

Still an alliteration, so she was going to count it in.

Peter Pettigrew. Moaning Myrtle. That was not her actual name but moving on… 

Any more names? She could have sworn there were more. Ah, who could recall an entire character cast without… 

What was she thinking? She had the entire cast spread out before her… Who looked different from their movie selves. Oh well…

William Weasley? That was Bill’s original, full name, right?

Oh! Bathilda Bagshot! Think! Who else! The-

Oh right! The fan of Harry Potter. The cameraman who proved that not all cameramen lived. Colin Creevey? Yes! And he was right there too, at the Gryffindor table, along with the rest of the lions - which she was still of the mind should have been griffins - and one Harry Potter and his gang of rule breakers who were all watching her, or maybe the twins. 

Hopefully the twins.

Nope, they were watching her. Okay, moving on…

DEDALUS DIGGLE!

Praise her memory! A genius is what she was! See! She could remember the name of some insignificant side character who appeared like once in the entire series! 

Dudley! Right! The obese cousin!

Dudley Dursley. 

And Professor Flitwick! Filius Flitwick, who was waving at her with the brightest, most exuberant smile ever! Awe! That was so heartwarming. He was officially her favourite teacher now. After Hagrid. Or maybe with Hagrid. Okay, they both occupied the top spot. 

Greg Goyle! One of the boulders seated next to this platinum sheet of wax that she would bet - if she could - a hundred euros was Malfoy. And Crabbe? Was it? Yeah, though unfortunately his name was not an alliteration.

Pansy Parkinson, and wow, she really did look like a pug. 

Pomfrey Poppy! The super nice mediwitch that Essie was probably going to make an acquaintance out of soon. 

Quirry Quirell! ‘Q’ and ‘Q’, though he currently was no longer in the world of the living. Wow. To think that Harry Potter took his first life so many years before her. 

If her mother’s plans were to succeed - something she highly doubted (the Fates, the gods, and all else wrong with this w-) - then maybe she would never need to take one. 

Stan Shunpike! Beedle the Bard! The Fat Friar! Bloody Baron! Nearly Headless Nick!

Hi Sir Nicholas! She shot him a thumbs up. Gratitude and all that. It was because of him that she met her newest friends. 

(The Bloody Baron really was bloody. Now where was Helena Ravenclaw? That story was so tragic. Oh she could feel the tears coming!)

“I believe it is high time we welcomed our newest addition, Miss Elesteria Jackson, formerly of Beauxbatons, now here with us. I do hope she finds our rather muddy English grounds to her liking and that she enjoys every moment here at Hogwarts!” Dumbledore's voice boomed, heralding the start to thunderous clapping. 

Fred and George, the absolute traitors that they were, scampered to the Gryffindor’s table, leaving her standing, alone, at the double doors that was the entrance to the Great Hall.

This was the main character vibe, right?

Hah take that Potter! 

She won the first round!

Round of applause to Essie! The mainest main character!

Zoning out of her inner world, she saw Dumbledore flapping his arms a bit. Okay. So he wanted to play pigeon. Got it. Oh no, wait-

He was motioning for her to walk over there. 

Wait, to the podium?!

Oh hell no. She was too introverted for this. 

Umm. Could she backtrack? Nope. It would get even more awkward, and all her aura would be lost. Or maybe it would be reinforced? Cool new kid and all, daring to disobey even Dumbledore. Too cool for school.

But nah. Only cringy teenagers who thought dabbing was cool would do that. And there was no way she was stooping to their level.

Fiiiinnne.

At least she would know her Hogwart’s house. All those trivia quizzes and stuff, how much accuracy did they really hold? 

Drawing in a deep breath, she rolled her shoulders and took her very first step into a fantasy book. 

The stares were endless. Curious whispers, wide eyes, maybe some snickering - people who were jealous of her modeling potential. 

She felt like a star. 

An idol.

She held the attention of the entire room, hundreds of students, of staff and teachers, gazes glued to her every movement, from her posture to her gait, the way her fingers curled, hair swaying with every stride. 

Guys, she was starting to feel shy. 

It was like the room was plunged into water. Not a single sound, even the act of respiring was put on hold. 

Her footsteps echoed, setting this tone of finality.

She really was a main character. 

A fact she really understood once she did a sweep of the hall. Even the mocking from ‘Queen bees’ had faded, replaced by this solemn, dramatic suspension. 

A melancholic melody from a sad violin was all that was needed to complete the picture.

And a cameraman. Oh wait, there was one already.

To further boost her main character image - and because she thought the reactions would be hilarious -, she shot him a smile, sparkling teeth, asymmetrical in its slight tilt, but it was enough to send Colin Creevey - and those around him - into a blushing hot mess. 

Was she really thirteen? 

Maybe her demigod genes were accelerating her development. Or the English were just super mature. 

Ready to mate. 

No laughing. Absolutely no laughing. No laughing. Keep it in. You would not want your first impression to be a cackling maniac. That could wait until a few chapters later. 

No lau-

That was the Sorting Hat. 

There, perched in the arms of Professor McGonagall. 

It was every bit as… filthy as Harry Potter had described. The hat, a dull brown that was either its natural colour or a layer of grime, was frayed, patched, and she dearly hoped it was not contaminated.

She had avoided lice for an entire lifetime.

She wanted to keep that record. 

“Miss Jackson.” Professor McGonagall’s voice was imperious, demanding respect in a way that Dumbledore’s did not.

“Hello.” She chirped back, sinking onto the tiny stool that had been prepared for her. 

She fought the urge to shudder when the hat at last, touched her head.

Now that’s quite rude. Came a disembodied voice. It resounded, and the closest explanation she could come up with was that it was like a single droplet splashing, rippling in abyssal darkness. 

Nice imagery. I see a bright mind. Ravenclaw perhaps?

Uh, Ravenclaw? She knew she was smart, but she did not think she was that s-

Oh never mind.

Ouch. Excuse me? She retorted, wholly offended.

Apologies. I did not mean it that way. Eagles seek knowledge for the sake of knowledge, and are willing to work hard for it. While you do embody those qualities - sometimes -, I feel that maybe it might not be the house for you.

Ah of course. Essie mentally nodded, forgiving him instantly. 

Would you be a dear and allow me a deeper peek?

Huh? Was the hat not all-seei-

The Sorting Hat chuckled. A strange experience this certainly was. At least now she knew how to differentiate outside voices and her own. 

Surface glimpses are fine. But to delve deeper, especially with minds as naturally guarded as yours, some initiative is needed. 

Ok. This fine?

Yes. He hummed. Ah. Gryffindor would be a good fit. Bold, daring, prone to mischievous acts. And the Weasley twins too. Though I suppose maybe Hufflepuff would be better to temper your reckless streak.

Ya think? Gryffindor is fine. Kinda cliche though.

Cliche? Why w- The Hat ‘blinked,’ his shock practically tangible.

Ah shit. He found her trove of extra memories. 

This is rather unexpected. How… interesting.

Yeah. Are you gonna tell anyone?

Even if I wanted to, I cannot. I am boun-

Okay. Good enough. So? What’s the verdict?

She could feel the hat think. It pondered, ‘spinning’ circles as it tried to place her. 

Where do you think you belong? You must have some idea, what with your previous knowledge. He teased, almost playful in its indulgence.

That’s the whole point. I wanna see if those endless quizzes were accurate.

Some were. Some… perhaps slightly askew.

Hey! You don’t think I’m Slytherin material?

You might have some qualities… but no.

Essie angled her head back, feet scuffing against the floor. The hat tipped a bit, allowing her to see the furtive peeks and glances exchanged by the student body.

Come on! I just wanna know!

Patience, dear child, is a virtue. Something Helga Hufflepuff herself would tell you.

Great. I’m super patient.

Her ADHD was killing her. How much aura would she lose if she started bouncing her leg? 

A lot.

Ugh. For the sake of her reputation, she resolved to remain still. An ice statue of utter perfection. Yes, that was who she was going to be. Someone Madame Maxime would approve of. The thought nearly sent her cracking. 

Okay, calm. 

What should she think about? Hm. What about this ditsy little tune from-

Eh. That was boring. Funk? She missed funk. Electric music. Japanese anime ost. And the Chinese ones too. They were so good! 

The hat laughed again, amused.

I can see you are nearing the edge of tolerable. For the sake of your future, I hope you will learn from HUFFLEPUFF!

The Hat was plucked right off her head, and she was greeted immediately by earsplitting applause from the badgers. The Weasley twins joined, spurring the rest of the Gryffindors into action, who then infected the Ravenclaw eagles, until only the Slytherin snakes were left. 

Slytherin was the only name that she thought fit its mascot. Slytherini was so slither-y. It screamed snake. 

Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were the biggest criminals. What did they mean that the mascot for Gryffindor was lion while for Ravenclaw eagle, as if griffin was not in its name and as if raven was not in its name.

Ravens were smart too. Arguably more clever than eagles.

Hufflepuff was fine. Though maybe pygmy puffs would be more suitable. Or was that something the Twins came up with and therefore did not exist? Yet?

“Hello. I’m Hannah Abbott.” Hannah stuck her hand out, fighting all the other badgers in order to get the first word of welcome.

“Hi! I’m Essie. Elesteria’s kinda a mouthful.” 

A deep tenor sounded, charming and warm, a tinkling chuckle. Damn, that must belong to someone super ho-

“Still beautiful. But you’re right, it might be a bit of a tongue-twister.” 

And yep. She called it. 

“Cedric Diggory,” The grey-eyed boy pulled her into a handshake. “Prefect.”

“Lovely to meet you.” She beamed. 

“Don’t forget Captain of the Quidditch team!” Another person jibed, poking at Cedric who humbly, but composedly, shrugged it off.

“Hi! I’m so glad you joined us here in Hufflepuff!”

“Yeah, we badgers stick together!”

“I’m-”

Hufflepuff was a brilliant choice. Though Essie was not certain whether the Sorting Hat’s idea of it helping her in the future would work. A house was a house. It was not like where she slept would make much of a difference. 

Though maybe the people would.

Dear Newt,

You haven’t replied to my last letter yet so I am absolutely holding a grudge. Either way, I am here to inform you that I’m officially a badger! Yay! 

The Hufflepuffs are all super nice, but England’s like really, reaaaaallllllyyyyyyyyyy cold. I nearly turned into a popsicle! If it weren’t for dress code restrictions, I might just turn up to class wrapped in a blanket! (I still might.)

I don’t know if it’s naturally like this, or because of the Dementors, but I’m really hoping it is, because I CANNOT stand this weather for the rest of my years in this country!

Anyways, I want candies, chocolates and gifts as apology. I will accept nothing less.

The person you better respond to soon. ASAP!

Elesteria Zosime Jackson

P.S. I still want a dragon.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

Dear Essie, 

First, I must apologise for my delay in replying. Your previous last letter (regarding the transfer), actually arrived while I was waist-deep in a marsh in Northern India, following the tracks of a rather nervous Occamy (and no, I will not be gifting her to you). The struggle was real, and your letter ended up in the mud. I’ve only just managed to clean the parchment enough to read properly, so you see, the delay was not from neglect, but from… well, me being me. 

Now, as for your demands, a dragon, I’m afraid, is quite impossible. The ministry tends to frown upon parcel posts containing Antipodean Opaleyes. A phoenix is similarly impractical, though I will admit the thought of Kuroi befriending one is a charming image. Venomous snakes are a definite no. I value you (and the entirety of Hogwarts) far too much to risk that.

That said, I promise to send you something. Not a living creature, but perhaps a small token from one. A scale or a feather, something you can keep tucked away. (Please do not frighten your professors. I will never hear the end of it should it get back to them that it was technically my fault.)

I’m very glad to hear you’ve been sorted into Hufflepuff. I think you’ll find that the house is less about where you sleep and more about the sort of family you gain there. They’ll look after you, and, knowing you, you’ll stir them up in equal measure.

Lastly, yes, it is always cold in England. Do keep a Warming Charm close, or write to me if you’d prefer a woolen scarf. In the meantime, I suppose I owe you chocolates as well, don’t I? Consider that promised as well. 

Write soon, preferably before you freeze into a popsicle.

Fondly,

Newt

P.S. If you do discover a secret passageway before anyone else tells you of one, promise me you’ll write to brag about it. I’d be most disappointed if you didn’t. 

P.P.S. Genuine Indian delicacies have been included in the other package. Do tell me your favourite of the bunch. 

The Hufflepuff common room was comfy. Like really, really comfy as in curl up on a random couch and snooze away comfy. 

There was a cozy fireplace merrily crackling away to the side of the room, its warmth radiating through the space, lending to this soothing feeling of snuggly, chicken broth vibes.

Like the feeling you got when you downed a bowl of hot soup.

So guess where she was currently situated?

If you guessed ‘roasting by the hearth’ then yes! Ten points to whichever Hogwarts house you belonged to.

“She’s the new girl?” 

“Is she alright?”

“She’s French?”

“Maybe this is normal behaviour for people over there?”

“Hush. You’re being rude.”

“She’s cute.”

“Should we… approach her?”

“Are you kidding?!”

“What? She’s one of us!”

“Yes bu-”

If Essie was any less comfortable, then she would have raised her head and outright told them that their ‘whispering’ sucked. 

“Hi.” A soft, but not quite timid voice said, breaking away from the chatter of the masses.

The demigoddess reluctantly rolled over, opening her left eye a crack to see who was the ‘bravest’ of the bunch. 

“Susan Bones. You talked to some of my friends earlier…” Susan waved a hand behind, where Hannah, Ernie Macmillan and Justin the long surname were peering curiously (one of the many sets of eyes). “Are you alright?”

“Peachy. Finally warm. It’s too cold.” 

Susan blinked. Then she laughed. “Yes, it is quite cold.”

“Oh. Right, France is warmer right?”

“It’s in the South.”

“Yeah. Should we get scarves?”

“A blanket maybe?”

The background chatter started again, all of the Puffs doing a terrible job at masking their eavesdropping. A sentiment Susan seemed to agree with, seeing her growing awkwardness and ‘covert’ glances around the room. 

She jutted her chin out, motioning to the room in a gesture Essie guessed meant ‘please shut them up’ but Hannah seemed to misinterpret as ‘please save me.’ 

Or maybe that was what it actually did mean, and the half-blood in the non-wizard sense was just bad at the art of interpreting human body-language. 

“Hey, would you like some chocolate? We went to Hogsmeade some time ago and stocked up on sweets.” Hannah conjured a bag of delicacies, ripping it out of thin air. 

That was cool. 

“Yes!” Essie cheered, suddenly alive again. 

Chocolates! 

The most ingenious creation of all time! And it never failed to soothe. 

Essie hummed happily, the chocolate working wonders that even dinner could not do. There was just something about the taste, the texture and sheer uniqueness of chocolates that made them utterly irreplaceable. 

“...It’s also because of the Dementors.” Someone brought up, a nervous, barely audible murmur like the speaker was afraid that they - it - would be summoned if the volume was any louder.

Those words rippled through the room in waves, settling deep into the core of students, a hushed tension born as their eyes darted around like they were waiting for said creatures to pop out of nowhere and devour them.

“Oh, but they’re going to leave soon. Probably.” Hannah tried to reassure.

“On the bright side, at least this means that you guys are getting good practice with the Patronus Charm.” Essie jibed, only half-joking.

She had always found it dumb how teachers did not at least try to teach their students this charm. Sure, it was hard, but even a tiny mist would be better than nothing in a life or death situation. Hell, Harry Potter managed to get everyone - mostly everyone - in his ‘army’ to master the charm. And you were saying that none of the teachers thought to bring it up?

Especially since losing the souls of students was a very present threat.

Even a tiny mist could be a suitable deterrent. So why were they not at least going over it?

Aura farming of Harry Potter. Duh. 

The Hufflepuffs stared, visibly flummoxed. 

“Er, Essie, the Patronus Charm is hard.” Ernie stressed. “Even some Aurors cann-”

“Potter can. You bring up a good point.” Cedric acknowledged, finally back from who knows where. 

“He’s Harry Potter.”

“Of course he can.”

“The golden-”

Essie furrowed her eye-brows in what she hoped was a good impression of ‘confused.’ “Wait. You’re saying that none of you even thought to try and cast the spell?”

To hammer it in even further, she could have added something like ‘even I tried it the moment I heard that there would be Dementors,’ but she did not feel like ruining her social chances before classes even started.

“Well, er, the thing is that it’s impossible-”

“It’s not.” Cedric interrupted. “We simply have not thought of it as a necessity, though as Potter has shown us, it might be a good idea to add it into your repertoire.”

“Harry Potter?”

“Yes. During a Quidditch match he conjured a corporeal Patronus, though they weren’t actual Dementors, it’s a long story, but he has shown us that it’s not impossible.” He directed those last words to his fellow housemates. 

“Great!” Essie clapped, “Can’t let him beat us by too much.”

Cedric laughed, agreeing, while the rest of the badgers gazed on with blank expressions. 

Observing the Hufflepuffs, she could see why they would blow up so… drastically in the next year. Well, in the next months.

The resentment was already there. All that was missing was a match. And Harry Potter, the Triwizard Tournament, was that spark. 

Neglected, underestimated, the forgotten ‘middle child’ of Hogwarts. 

Peacekeepers, therapists, shoulders to cry on, the support but never supported. 

Cedric Diggory was, essentially, their beacon of hope. He had it all, the smarts, good looks, athleticism, and he was finally given the opportunity to shine. 

A spotlight that was shadowed by Harry Potter. 

Gryffindor’s Golden Boy.

Someone who since the moment he had arrived, had been lavished with attention, both positive and not, but most importantly, validation. 

Something Hufflepuffs craved. 

People saw things from different perspectives. Rumours spreading, distorting, mutating with every jump from person to person. It is quite funny, she mused, how some of them are so far from the truth.

Because she had read Harry Potter, had read discussions and analyses from readers who viewed scenes from the same perspective as her, the perspective of Harry Potter, she knew that he did not have it as ‘easy’ as some of the more disgruntled students of Hogwarts liked to grumble. 

But this new point-of-view offered her something she lacked before, insight on the struggles of people who were not Harry Potter. 

Harry Potter might have had it harder than others, but he also had it easier (in some instances).

A con and a pro. 

There was no such thing as ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ per se, it was only students, teenagers trying to make a name for themselves. The ‘aggrieved’ people were not wrong in their feelings of discontentment, but neither was Harry Potter with his fury over the ostracisation he had received in response to… anything deemed less than ideal. 

They did not know the full story, Harry Potter could not understand them, but how could he if inherently, everyone saw the world differently?

The Hufflepuffs only saw the fame, the partiality of teachers, both inclined - Dumbledore - and disinclined - Snape. Though more Dumbledore than Snape, because Snape at least, was mean to everyone. To Gryffindors more specifically, and so it was practically expected that he would have beef with the embodiment of Gryffindor. (And because Snape did not cause Hufflepuff to come in last, and while they would not have won... That sudden jump from last to first place of Gryffindor really was... This was among other instances.)

People tended to take into mind 'unfavourable' situations (to themself) more often than 'favourable' due to human nature, own biasness, comparisons and centuries of ingrained instinct. Something about making sure that adverse stuff, harmful to the individual is kept strictly catalogued, because it threatens the organisms survival?

Point is, they did not see the fear, the sadness and loneliness of a boy who wanted a friend. 

They did not feel bad for making snide remarks or mean comments, because to them, Harry Potter was an immortalised icon, who did not feel like one of them normal folks felt. 

In other words, even if they attended the same school, the same classes, lived under the same roof, to them, Harry Potter was in a league of his own - not a person in his own right. 

They did not see a child. 

They themselves were children. But the cruelty of children often lay in their ignorance. 

Even Hufflepuffs, for all their sanctifying, were merely children in the end. 

“You know, the Gryffindors are like the youngest child. The Ravenclaws the eldest. That leaves Hufflepuff and Slytherin scrambling. I suppose I would rank Slytherin as the second youngest, maybe with a bigger age gap with Gryffindor, so it means that they remember what it feels like to be the ‘youngest’ and desperately want it back. Hufflepuffs… Well, they definitely give off that forgotten second-oldest child vibe, ya know, with the mediators, kind, responsible, reliable vibe… Why are you guys looking at me like that?” Essie leaned back, alarmed at the strange, contorted expressions of the people around her.

Hannah’s eye-lashes fluttered slowly, her half-eaten plate of eggs forgotten along with her suspended spoon. 

“That’s deep… and kinda accurate.” Ernie’s voice dropped, despair filling him as he ruminated over the… likeliness to their reality. 

“Here, want some bacon?” Justin chimed in, trying to distract the suddenly sullen badgers. 

Ernie shook his head, pushing away the dish as Hannah and Susan both stared despondently at their breakfast. Some neighbouring older Hufflepuffs also wilted, absent-mindedly pushing the food around. 

Essie swept the area, noting the… depressed air, shrugged and joyfully accepted the crunchy, sizzling morsel, heedless of the ‘mess’ she had caused. 

A snort sounded, quiet but abrupt, that had everyone whip their heads toward it. The girl stared back with this ‘caught in 4K’ wide eyes, fidgeting uneasily under the sea of stares.

Essie grinned. “Hey! I’m Essie.”

“Megan.” The girl muttered shyly. 

“Sweet! Are you my dormmate?”

“We’re all your dormmates. I’m Sally-Anne Perks.” Another girl replied. 

“Nice! My mum’s name is Sally. Just Sally though.” But the puzzlement of Essie did not seem to be too well hidden since the others seemed to see it immediately. Not that she was trying to hide it but… What happened to her poker face? Oh right, she never had one in the first place.

Oh the sadness…

“In Hufflepuff, there were five girls and five boys in our year originally, the dorms accommodate that, though with your arrival, another bed was added so…” Hannah graciously explained. 

Oh right. Five, five, five, and… were there ten students in every year from each house? Ah, no, James Potter and his gang… unless there were unmentioned Gryffndors?

It would be unlikely for them to leave out others, if they were dorming, especially since they took even Pettigrew in. 

And how would the Sorting Hat do it anyways? Five girls, five boys, four houses? How would the hat symmetrically sort people? Or could he see into the future? 

Unlikely. 

Or maybe this was all a coincidence. 

OCD of authors. 

Moving on- “Cool. So who’s in our year?”

“Well, there’s me, Justin, Ernie, Susan, and also Sally-Anne, Megan and Lily, she’s over there.” Lily shot up at the mention of her name, scanning the area furiously in a ‘huh? Did someone call for me?’ manner. “And there’s Wayne, Roger and Oliver.” Hannah finished, pointing at a group of boys, seated some distance away.

…She was pretty sure there was someone named ‘Zacharias.’ 

Was she mistaken?

“Cool.”

Susan stood up, clicking this pocket watch thing? “We should get going though. We have potions.” 

“Ugh.” Hannah groaned. 

A sentiment that was echoed by the other third-year badgers. 

“Oh! How’s the professor?” Essie inquired, semi-seriously. Hopefully, Snape was kinder to the Puffs than he was to the Lions.

“Terrible.” Ernie stated, ignoring the disapproving looks from his peers. “But it’ll be worse if we’re late.”

She would survive.

Probably.

Hopefully. 

(She was getting this premonition of doom. Yep, bye bye negative thoughts. Very much not appreciated right now. Potions. Dad, please save her. This was the first and only time she was going to pray to him.)