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The Rowan Rebellion

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Tomorrow is a new day, and yesterday is of old. But the present is too good to think of the past or the future. It’s a picture-perfect scene; a family sits at the local bandstand listening to some tunes while the kids in the neighborhood dance to their hearts content. The family themselves look out of place in such a jovial atmosphere. But nonetheless they enjoy their family day out.

           

“Look mommy, there’s a butterfly!” I snap out of the trance I was in and my eyes focus on my family. In the distance a noise can be heard only to one, a loud whistle that mimics the sounds of pain and distress. My sister is pointing at a blue and white butterfly that’s flapping quietly just a foot from my face. So quaint, and peaceful, unbothered by the stress of life. Maybe it was the rhythmic flap of the wings, or maybe it was the distant sound of screeching that made my mind go hazy, but in an instant, I reach out and grab the butterfly by its wings and squeeze. The sickening crunch resounds loudly and almost immediately my whole body starts burning.

            Within the short window of 15 seconds that I grab the butterfly and my body starts burning, my family panics. Veronica, my American mother, reaches out for my hands. Trevor, my American father, reaches for my face as he watches my eyes roll back into my head. My little sister cries for me or the butterfly, I do not know. But I do know that her scream makes my body burn more. It feels like my body is being ripped apart, limb by limb, and its’ being molted back together. There is a fire rolling up and down my spine, stinging and poking at my nerves. In my eyes the only thing that I can see is white, a bright white light that sounds like its yelling at me. The screeching from earlier becomes louder. I am cold now. The fire has died down and now my body is frozen. A wave of cold-water washes over me and everything goes black. Nothingness overcomes me.

            When my eyes open again, I am laying in my bed at home. My head lulls to the side and I notice a blur from outside my door. If I strain my ears, I can almost hear them.

            “It happened again, and I don’t know if we can handle this anymore.” My mother. I try to speak but no words exit my mouth. “She killed a butterfly today, and right afterwards she went into some form of… psychotic shock.” I suppose I am not shocked to hear her say these things. She has been having a hard time lately what with all the times my body has shut down. It is the voice that I hear after hers that shocks me.

            “You agreed to help raise her, and you will continue to do so. She only has a couple more academic years left with you and then she shall return home, with me.” My father! My real father is here. He may not be my biological father, but he’s helped raise me and cherish me since I was 3.

            “Let’s be real Malfoy,” my head turns towards my arm and I notice a bright red rash. I lean down to scratch it, still paying close attention to the conversation from the outside of my door. “the only reason you agreed to take care of her was because of her last name. We are no different. Don’t act so pompous.”

            “You will not assume the reasons why I decided to become her caretaker.” I wish I was still asleep. That way I couldn’t hear the accusations being hurled at my father. Afterall, even though I know why he agreed to raise me, it doesn’t mean I want to acknowledge it.

            “Oh yeah? Then why did you aye? If it’s not because she’s a Rowan, then why? Her mother was a psychopathic bitch and her father was just like you, a bigoted pureblood. I am not saying that I do not care about her. I think of her as my own daughter. But I worry, for my health and my youngest child’s health.” Tears well in my eyes and I close them to stop the flow. The burning in my arm on the rash increases. But I refuse to relent, and I stay quiet.

            “I raised her because I had to. Because she is my daughter. Not yours. I am asking you a simple favor. Keep her here for one more week and then I will come to collect her.” I hear the swoosh of his robes and a thump thump thump down the stairs. My arm is bright red now, but I have no time to scratch it for I drift once again into a deep sleep.

 

 

            ‘Do you hear it?’ my head promptly turns to the right. My conscious has been asking me many questions lately. ‘Hear what?’ I ask back. My feet swing back and forth on the four-poster swing in the gardens. The day is bright with a few clouds in the sky. There are an array of colors painting the flowers, but my eyes zone in on the orange blooms directly in front of me. ‘Listen carefully child.’ I strain to listen, but I hear nothing immediately. All the sudden I hear a light hissing sound. The hiss is quaint, but I can hear it, nonetheless. Out of the corner of my eye I can see it. She is green and brown, with scales that shine in the light. The sides of her mouth are pulled up in what looks like a sinister smile. ‘Ah so you found her. Now talk.’ The moment that I am about to begin speaking to her I hear a voice from around the hedges.

            “Expulso!” a bright blue light erupts from behind said bushes and hits the snake. The snake explodes and a gasp leaves me.

            “Naomi! Naomi, where are you?” Lucius rounds the corner looking for me frantically. When he spots me he runs and picks me up. Tears begin streaming down my face and one of his hands rubs them from my eyes. “Shhh, child. I would never let it harm you.” But that is not why I am crying father. Why would I cry because of fear? I cry only because the snake was harmless, and it only wanted to talk. But I could never tell him this.

            Father declines to put me down and he rushed back into the manor. He quickly makes his way towards the drawing room. When he does, mother and Draco come into sight. Draco is playing the large piano in the corner of the room and mother is standing over him protectively. The moment she sees me though she lets out a worried gasp and comes running towards us. Draco makes to stand but father yells at him. “Don’t move Draco keep practicing!”

            “What happened to her? Why is she crying?” She addresses father first and then looks into my eyes. “Why are you crying my dear?” My hands shake slightly as I remember the yes of the snake as its body exploded from too much pressure. Fear, loneliness, and confusion. That is what death is. I have experienced it firsthand now. Maybe that wasn’t a human, but death affects us all in the same way I suppose.

            “She was shocked when she saw a snake approaching her with its teeth bared, in a stance for attack.” I don’t argue with him.

            “That must have scared you. You are still a child after all.” Mother says with a sweet smile on her face. Father puts me down on the ground and I wipe the tears off my face.

            “I am not a child anymore mother. I am 8. I’m practically an adult.” The two of them let out a quiet chuckle. I seem to have clamed them down for now. My eyes drift to Draco and I run over to him.

            “Draco! What are you doing? Huh? Guess what I saw today.” His fingers neglected the piano and he turned to face me.

            “What was it?” He asks with the curiosity of a little boy.

            “A snake.” I smirk. His eyes widen and his hands come together.

            “Wow I wish I could see a snake. Will you show me one someday?” Draco asks.

            “Of course, I will kid.” I hear our parents having a small argument in the back of the room. I hear a small portion of the conversation.

            “She was talking to herself Narcissa. I watched her there. She knew the snake was coming but she did nothing to evade danger.” My shoulders slump slightly. Instead of waiting to hear mother’s response I rush towards the entrance of the room. Eyes follow me as I leave, and my tiny feet continue running. The stairs, I need to find the stairs.


            “Oh come on Uncle Sev! Can I please stir?” Even after all the whining I have been doing in the last two weeks he lets out the smallest of smiles.

            “Fine. Clockwise.” He hands me the spoon and I begin stirring.

            These last could of weeks I have been working with Severus day and night as he teaches me how to make Doxycide, Dreamless Sleep potion, and Flesh-Eating Slug Repelant. Right now, we are working on Dreamless Sleep. One day I will be a great positions master. If only I could be one now. We are in the positions room in the Malfoy Manor. It took me almost three years to convince Lucius to let me learn these three potions. I will be paying extremely close attention today just as I did yesterday. ‘

 

 

            There’s a storm coming. The trees are shaking, the sky is howling, and I am currently locked in the ball room with about two hundred witches and wizards, all here for a charity ball. The guests range from Albus Dumbledore to ole Severus Snape. My gown is floor length and is specially designed to fit my 10-year-old body. The guests are looking at me strangely, just like they always do. Afterall I am a bastard Rowan being raised by Malfoys. The music that plays in the background is lovely and I am almost compelled to dance. But I have no time for such frivolities. ‘You are a child. How do you not have time to dance?’ My consciousness speaks to me.

            ‘Need I remind you that I can’t let my guard down in front of these people? Also, there’s a storm coming. We need to be careful.’ I try to reason with the voice in my head and I hop over to the other kids my age. A younger boy who goes by the name Ernie Macmillan is sitting on the velvet couches in the common area section. To the right of him is a girl his age (eight) named Daphne Greengrass. Of course, right next to them were my favorite cousin, Zohar Jax. Over on the other side of the common area I saw Draco with his friends. I dislike most of them except Zabini. I rush over to my cousin and throw myself on top of him.

            “Hey Naomi! What’s goin’ on? Aren’t you going to dance?” Zohar laughs as he notices the frown on my face at the mention of dancing.

            “I am too grown for dancing.” I say haughtily.

            “You know grown-ups dance, right?” We all laugh, and I cough.

            “Yeah? Well not this one.” Zohar leans back on the couch and pulls out a golden snitch toy. We all widen our eyes and move closer. “You like it?”

            I nod my head furiously and smile. “When did you get that? It looks so real.” I ask him.

            “Oh, so it’s something my mom is working on as a toy for kids to put in at our casinos. You know she’s been askin’ bout you? Says she wants you to come up before you start at Hogwarts.” I think about my relatives and get sad. I wish that I could be apart of the family business. That, however, won’t happen until I can prove I have some form of experience. That’s what my Aunt said.

            “I’ll ask papa if I can go for a month. He might not want me to though because I’ve been studying and learning minor charms and potions a lot this past month.” Zohar makes a whining sound and I laugh sadly.

            “You never come to play anymore. You’re always busy.” Just as he says this the song changes. We all perk up as we recognize the tune and we go out to the dance floor. The night continues and I can only hope that the storm outside is not a warning.

 

            It was a warning. Of course, it was. I should have known. The snakes that I heard hissing at me all through the night kept me tossing and turning. My body burned, and my insides tumbled. I could feel snakes inside of my stomach coiling around each other as they moved to the rhythm of my heart. It was a fast tango that made my stomach churn. I felt pins being stuck into my body, on my face especially. My legs were jumping and the rash on my arm that I’ve had since I was six, flared up and began itching. I stared blankly at the ceiling as I heard the wizards talking from the outside of my door. One voice I know, Severus Snape, but the other voice is that of a wise old man. They spoke in whispers; both must not realize that they are positioned outside of my room. However, if that is Severus then he would know exactly where he is. That must mean… they want me to hear what they are saying.

            “She is just a child. Her name is not Harry Potter. I simply cannot fathom why you believe training her for a war that might not happen at such a young age is a good idea.” Those were the words of Severus.

            “Severus my boy, think of the future. You personally have seen her abilities, and she far surpasses her peers. Not even at Hogwarts yet and she can make several different potions, and undoubtedly if given the chance she could do simple household spells. She may not be Harry Potter, but she is Naomi Rowan, and in a way that is better.” The old man lets out a long and slightly exasperated breath. The rash on my arm itches and I reach to scratch until I notice my hands are bound to the bed. Someone must have jinxed me.

            “I will not make her into a child soldier Albus…” Albus? Dumbledore? Severus is talking about me to Albus about me being trained for war.

            “She already is.” As he said those words there was thunder that roared over the midnight sky. I will think about this conversation tomorrow, for the stress of my rash is making me tired.

 

           

            Smoke rises from the cauldron and a lanky hand drops eye of newt directly into the potion. My eyes stare at the side of Severus’ pale face, from this angle I can see the slight wrinkling around his eyes, from years of stress I assume as he rarely laughs or smiles. My mind drifts to a few weeks ago when I heard him and the great wizard Albus Dumbledore speaking about how Albus wanted to train me for a war that hasn’t happened yet. I must have stared for too long because his eyebrows shoot up and he speaks to me.

            “Is there something you wish to speak to me about.” His voice is a long drawl and I jump in shock.

            “I think I should be asking you that question Uncle.” His shoulders drop and he sighs. We continue making potions and ignoring what I heard outside of my bedroom the other night. Looking back, I suppose Severus realized he was very lucky that I never told my father about the conversation outside of my bedroom.

Chapter Text

 

            Not too long ago there lived a young woman named Eliza Rowan. She was obsessed with the idea of magic despite not being able to perform it anymore. Most people had to information about her ailment; many people were not even aware that she could no longer do magic. In fact, she was so obsessed with magic that she seduced another wizard in the hopes that she would fit in with the wizarding society more. His name was Evan Rosier. He knew nothing of her problem, and if he did, he surely would’ve killed her. She took a risk when she seduced him. Eventually after about two months of courtship the two agreed to marry. This was also when she realized that she was with child. Eliza begun to worry for her and her child’s safety. There was a chance after all that Evan would learn of her if the child too came out as a squib. Eliza ran, far away from Britain. Evan learned that she was a squib just after she left and out of anger, he began to search for her. His plan was to slaughter her and the child. But he could not find her. Not once did he meet the child she birthed, and he never managed to kill Eliza. Luckily the child was born with magic, very powerful magic at that. But Eliza declined to raise her, for she was a coward. So, the child lived on and off with Andromeda Tonks before the death of Voldemort, and with the Malfoy family after the war. She spent time with a pureblood family in America during the school year as there was a wizarding school for younger students there. Raised by Malfoys, blood of a Rowan, the child that Eliza bore was destined to be powerful.

            This was the second time I had read that damned passage in the book of Rowans. It updates after the birth of a new child of the Rowan line. The last time it updated I was just five years old. It will not update again until I have my first heir. I hear the tell tale click clack of a cane hitting the floor and I slam the book shut and stand up. My father has returned from his meeting finally and he agreed that today he would begin teaching me how to decipher ancient Norse runes. His robes billow behind him and a large smirk graces his features.

            “You’re home dad. How was your meeting?” I ask him excitedly. He goes over to mother and gives her a nod before taking a seat next to Draco.

            “Naomi, how old are you?” My eyes narrow slightly in confusion. Does my father not know my age?

            “I am 11 years old sir.” Mother looks at father and smiles with the grace of a pureblood wife.

            “Then I believe I am obliged to give you this letter that you received today.” He pulls a letter out of his robes and my shoulders raise. Is that…?

            I grab the letter out of his hand quickly and the moment I look at it, my mind blanks. It’s my Hogwarts letter. Finally! I tear into it with fervor and read through the letter. I am finally ready to go to Hogwarts. Draco looks up from his book and runs over to sit next to me.

            “Not fair, I want to go to Hogwarts!” Draco whines out.

            “Don’t whine Draco. Your turn will come soon enough.” Father scolds Draco as he leans back and crosses his legs.

            I reach for one of Draco’s hands to comfort him and I squeeze. My fingers tremble slightly out of nervousness and I stretch. I can just imagine the castle, getting sorted (into Slytherin of course), and making friends. I do hope that I make the quidditch team. Although I know father and mother might not be happy if I do. It is not proper for a young pureblood witch to indulge in the rough idiotic sports of men. Women are too intelligent for the likes of quidditch playing buffoons. If I do make the team, I might be the only female on it. I need not worry however; you cannot be on the Quidditch team until your second year. I read that in Hogwarts: A History. My hand escapes from Draco’s and I stand up. “Okay Draco, since I’ll be going to Hogwarts, I suggest we take a sibling day twice a week until I leave.” I look down at him still sitting there and give a warm smile.

            “Can I go with you to get your supplies?” He asks hopefully. I giggle and nod my head.

            “Why not? Plus, mum and da’ are coming so I just assumed you would too.” I hear mother clear her throat and I turn to her.

            She holds out a perfectly manicured hand towards me and I walk over. She pulls my head down so that she can whisper in my ear. “We have to talk later.” My head bobs back up and I look curiously at her. Father is paying us no mind, however, opting to scan through the potions book he is holding. I nod and sit next to Draco once more.

            “What classes do you think you’ll be good at? I think I’ll be the best in potions.” Draco asks me enthusiastically.

            “Well I suppose I will do good in potions, and perhaps Charms. I know quite a few already. Maybe I will do decently in Runes. I hope anyways.” What I really hope is that my father will sit me down and help me with Runes.

            “Do you think uncle will go easy on you?”

            “Ha! As if. Severus- ah Professor Snape now, already told me that he wouldn’t choose favorites. Even though we all know I am.” Draco huffed and crossed his arms.

            “I can tell. Why doesn’t he teach me potions?” I ruffle Draco’s hair and yawn.

            “That isn’t a question for me. Why don’t you ask him? Or maybe I can teach you?” I tell him gingerly. His eyes light up and he throws his arms around me.

            “Yes! When should we start? Soon, you’re going away to school soon.” I nod and jump to my feet.

            “Let’s start now.” We run out of the room together and out into the hallway. I can hear our parents sighing and I smirk.

 

           

            The sky above the manor grows dark as the day continues. Twisting and turning through the hallways, I stop at a window. The full moon glares down at me, staring, almost as if such an inanimate yet full of life object could speak. In my mind- I know it is in my mind- I hear the howls of a werewolf as their bones crunch and reshape themselves. Fearing where my thoughts were going to head, I turn away from the window and continue down the winding hallways; making a left turn and a right turn before going straight and happening upon the door to mothers’ favorite room in the manor (the women’s study). A tentative hand reaches up and knocks on the door. A gentle voice calls out “Come in.” from the inside and that same hand reaches for the handles. It is then that I realize the hand is my own. My consciousness was moving for me whilst my mind drifted to the terrible beats that lurk in the forest on full moons. The mahogany door pushes open with a creak and immediately my eyes make their way to the candles that are lighting up the room. Mum stands with her back turned towards me, gazing out of the window, as transfixed with the moon as I was.

            “You needed to speak with me mum?” I ask. Her gaze never leaves the moon, but her hands move on their own accord, gesturing for me to sit on the couch.

            “You know, it is a shame what the moon does to people. It would be beautiful if it would not turn the sanest of men into ravaging beasts.” It is then that she turns and faces me.

            “I don’t know mum. A sane man who turns into an insane beast seems illogical. Would it not be that sanity is a construct, and no man is ever truly sane, that is why there are more male lycanthropes than female. Men are of insanity, are they not?” Her eyebrows raise in the slightest and her head whips back and forth from the moon to me, her eyes betraying her pondering thoughts.

            “Yes, I suppose. Men are weak, unruly, and irrevocably mad.” She smirks and takes a deep breath. “I did not call you here to talk about the sanity of men, I called you in here to talk about Hogwarts.” My shoulders shrug and I begin shaking my right leg.

            “Mum, I’m fine.” My legs betray that statement as my defensive habit continues.

            “Please talk to me. We both know that you still struggle after what Bella-” I cut her off with a shout.

            “Don’t say her name please mother!” I ball my hands into tight fits and bite my lip. There’s nothing to be worried about, I think to myself, I haven’t had an accident in years.

            “I see you scratch your right arm when you’re in stressful situations. I saw your forearm. What was once a rash is now a jagged scar, that I assume still warns you of impending danger. You have no reason to deny it Naomi, face your fears. She is locked away in Azkaban, and she will not return.” She puts a loving arm around my shoulders and pushes my head to lay on her chest.

            “I know that she’s gone. I get that. But I am fine. What happened because of her happened a long time ago and my memory of the incident is foggy.” I explain to mother my reasoning behind not wanting to talk.

            “Then tell me child… If you don’t fear her presence, then why do you fear her name?” A cold chill runs down my spine and something awakens in my mind.

            A memory perhaps? Of a woman with long black hair, with a smile of daggers and a cold dead evil behind her eyes. Her laugh as she told me to ‘remember my name’ sends an influx of tears down my face. The memory is too haunting, and the name, well the name leaves the taste of blood and sulfur in my mouth. My mother reaches up and wipes my tears, hushing me as sobs rack through my body. My shoulders shake and my rash turned scar itches. Suddenly I am overwhelmed with relief that it is my mother who was inclined to speak with me rather than me father. Since my eleventh birthday he has begun saying that he has no time for the silly tears of a child. A mother’s embrace will always be more comforting than a fathers’ guiding hand. Her hands rub circles on my back and my sobs slow. I am calming down, much to my mother’s relief.

            “If you won’t let me help you, then at least help yourself. Don’t fear the name, don’t let her have that much power over you. She may be my sister, but you are my daughter. I will not stand for her reckless behavior. Very unladylike. She was raised to be a true pureblood witch, and yet, she behaves like an animal.” I still at my mothers’ comment on true pureblood witches. I know she expects me to be a good pureblood witch and follow the pureblood traditions, such as marrying another suitable pureblood wizard, as customary for our kind.

            “Yes mother, I know, I will do better.” I try to lessen her stress and I cross my legs.

            “Speaking of pureblood witches,” I am glad to be off the topic of the Lestrange wife, but this topic doesn’t make me feel any better. “Have you spoken to Theodore recently?”

            “Mum!” I yell outraged at her mention of the Nott boy. “He’s younger than me. I thought it wasn’t customary for the woman to be older than her betrothed?” My face heats up in anger or embarrassment I don’t know.

            She ignores my outburst and puts her left hand over my right hand. “Yes, you are right. But your father chose him because he seems to be the only ‘Sacred Twenty-Eight’ family with a decent, good looking, heir. The Nott family is well off and they are involved in the pureblood society. Their son is a nice young man.” I nod my head, deciding not to argue with her. After all I still have two more years until he joins me at Hogwarts. That is plenty of time to convince my family that another pureblood wizard (preferably one more attractive, and less ignorant than Nott) should be the man I am betrothed to.

            I stand and curtsey to my mother before starting out of the study to make my way to my bedroom. The walk there was cold and dark, but the slight gleam of the moon shining through the windows comforted me.

 

 

Chapter Text

The Jax family is in close relation to the Rowan family. They are connected through Kaylah Rowan nee Jax who married Ion Rowan in 1872. The two went on to have powerful descendants. But Kaylah was one of two- she had a brother named Philip who carried on the Jax line. Sofia Jax is one of the more prominent witches in the Jax line as she created Jax Railroads before it was JRI. Her son Ailbert expanded the family business to include their distant cousins, the Rowans. Zohar was the first of his family to go to Hogwarts as they were of Swedish blood and they mainly attended Durmstrang, or Beauxbatons.

 

There is something to be said about the relationship between parents and their children when one of them is adopted. It appears they focus more on the adopted child for the first few years post-adoption, and the biological child for the remainder of their adolescence. It makes sense, after all, the biological child has the parent’s DNA and therefore is prone to their incorrigible traits. The adopted child would receive none of their parents’ inheritable traits and would subsequently be inclined more to the praise of the parents rather than the gentle scolding that they give to the biological offspring. This can be seen in the relationship between the Malfoy men and the Malfoy women. I do my best to be less of a hassle for my parents, but Draco it seems, has become quite like father was in his youth- pompous, cheeky, and maddening if I do say so myself. Our trip to Diagon Alley is today and he’s being a right cheeky brat. Mother finds it endearing but father wants him to behave like a proper pureblood.

             We step into Diagon Alley with purpose. I am sure we look frightening; a family of Malfoy’s strutting like we own the place. My blouse is royal blue and my skirt is knee length and white. My shoes are the same color blue as my blouse, but they are oxford heels with white leather on the sides. We first make our way to Madame Malkin’s so that I can get fitted for my robes. We pass a quidditch supplies shop and I make note of it so that I can return later. As we walk through the crowds of people, I spot several young witches and wizards here for the same reason as me. The door chimes when I open it and a slightly plump older woman looks up from her books. The shop is not crowded right now as it is a Tuesday at 10 am. My eyes scan the room and I smile grows on my face as it does every time I step into the shop. I love shopping and my two favorite places include Madame Malkin’s and Madame Maz (a clothing store located in Fleamont Village). Madame Malkin runs up to my mother and bows slightly.

            “Lady Malfoy, a pleasure.” She puts her hands out to direct us to a large waiting area.

            “Oh, the pleasure is all mine.” Mother is graceful as always and she takes my arm, pulling me closer to her.

            “And hello to you Naomi. Are you here to get fitted for your Hogwarts robes?” The older woman asks me with a glint in her eye and a smile on her face. I nod my head rapidly and a chuckle resounds from her.

            “Well then, you’ve come to the right place.” As mother, father, and Draco all sit down I stay standing. “Let’s get you measured then.”

            I move towards the platform in the middle of them room and stand on top of it. With a wave of her wand a measuring tape swings up next to me. The tip of the tape moves, almost like a person eyeing me up and down. With another flick of Malkin’s wand a quill appears along with parchment. The measuring tape elongates itself and measures my legs first. Then it moves up towards my arms. Once its finished with those two measurements it looks towards the quill, and as if they are speaking to each other, the quill begins moving. My eyes are wide in amazement even though I see this every time I am fitted here. Oh, magic and its wonders. While I was getting measured, Draco had some how managed to convince father that they needed to go to the Quidditch Supplies store, so they left in a haste leaving mother and I alone with a coin purse full of galleons.

           

            After I acquire several sets of robes, two cloaks, two pairs of dragons hide gloves, and two hats, we make our way north side of Diagon alley to stop into Flourish and Blotts. I pull my book list out of my pocket and read it. The standard book of spells, grade 1? I have that at the manor already as light reading material. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them? I also have that book at home. I leave mother behind and continue walking without looking in front of me. The Dark Forces:  A Guide to Self Protection? Now this is a book I don’t have yet. Just as I stop walking, someone runs into me. I fall to the floor with a light thud, dropping my shopping list on the floor.

            “Ow!” I yelp. I look up from the floor and see a ginger haired boy holding his hand out with a smile on his face. “Why’d you knock me down?” I ask angrily, declining to take his outstretched hand.

            “What? Oh, I didn’t see you there.” He watches me stand up with a smile still on his face.

            “Geor-Fre-Oh George! Are you causing trouble boy?” A plump woman strides towards me with frustration on her face. This must be his mother, I think. His eyes widen as she walked up behind him and grabs his ear.

            “No mum I just ran into her and she fell that’s all!” He must have caught the attention of my mother because I hear my name being said airily as a hand is laid on my shoulder.

            “Naomi dear what happened?” Mother has not looked at me this whole time, instead deciding to glare at the woman and boy in front of us.

            “Nothing mum, we just ran into each other, that’s all.” I explain to mother and turn my eyes towards the red-haired boy in front of me. He hasn’t stopped looking at me and it’s making me uncomfortable.

            The boy in front of me coughed slightly at the tension and looked away from my eyes. “I’m sorry for my son Mrs. Malfoy, he’s excitable right now, starting Hogwarts this year, you know.” His mother must know mine. But from the way that they are glaring at each other I can tell they are not friends. The fact that this woman can stand her ground with my mother impresses me.

            “Molly!” An older man with similar red hair to the mother and son duo in front of me began walking towards us.

            “Ah, the Weasley clan. What are you doing in here? I believe you use not only used robes, but you reuse books as well.” Father has arrived. I hear his voice and the clink of his walking stick as it hits the ground. The rest of the shop around us has grown quiet as my father makes his presence known. Immediately the family in front of me which seems to have multiplied since I looked away, tensed severely. The older children and the adults especially look worried.

            “Hello Lucius. What are you doing here? I thought you left the children to your wife?” The man takes a drag at my father and I stay silent still. They obviously know each other.

            “No Arthur. It seems as though I pay little attention to them because I have a well-paying job to provide only the best for my children, unlike you.” My head whips around to look at my dad whose eyes avoid mine completely, when a loud voice distracts me.

            “Don’t talk to my dad like that!” The boy in front of me, who looks exactly like one of the other boys with the family, roars out.

            “Don’t yell at my family! Who do you think you are?” My American accent must have shocked the rest of the family as they had yet to hear me speak. Draco, who has kept quiet this whole time moves to hold my hand.

            “Naomi let’s just go look for your books. Let mother and father deal with them.” Draco has taken to calming me down when I am in great amounts of stress, that way my scar doesn’t flare up. I hold Draco’s hand tighter.

            Draco pulls me away from the adults and we go looking for my books. I notice out of the corner of my eye the two identical boys beginning to follow us. We head upstairs in search of the books required, stepping around older Hogwarts students and their parents. Once we reach the top of the staircase I let go of Draco’s hands and leave him. I know that he’d prefer to read books about Quidditch rather than follow me around to buy books he will eventually need himself. The twins are still following me when I turn into a dark hallway of books. I stand in the middle waiting for them to meet me there when they round the corner and jump slightly. It is uncanny how similar their movements are.

            “You’re following me?” I ask and cross my arms at the same time.

            “Yeah,” One says. His eyes bore into mine and I can’t tell if he’s the one who hit me or not.

            “We just figured we should come tell you to not talk to our family like that.” This one must be the kid who ran into me. His voice is very familiar.

            I grab onto an interesting book that I see in front of me called Jumping Jubles and purposefully refuse to look at their faces. It’s a prank book with several easy magic spells for all types of trickery.

            “Are you reading Jumping Jubles? I love that book.” The one who knocked me down speaks with interest. The other twin has lost interest in this conversation and went somewhere else.

            “It’s got the best--” He started.

            “Jokes and jabs for a novice prankster.” I finish the sentence for him with a slight smile.

            He looks at me with shock on his face and clears his throat. “What’s your name?” He asks me with a playful look in his eyes.

            “I’m Naomi. Naomi Rowan-Malfoy. What’s yours?” You can tell that he was not expecting the last name Rowan. Afterall, we are a long line of powerful magic. Or maybe it is the fact that Lucius Malfoy adopted me, and that I am not of his bloodline. Either way, he was surprised after hearing my name.

            “You’re a Rowan? I didn’t know the Malfoy’s had adopted a Rowan.” He expressed his astonishment a moment after I spoke.

            “Would they have settled for anything less?” I ask him with a smirk on my face.

            “No, they wouldn’t.” He says gloomily and but a moment later his demeanor changes to playful once more. “Well, my lady,” He does a great low bow and his smile broadens. “my name is Sir George Weasley, at your service.”

            “Well Mr. Weasley, it is certainly a right pleasure meeting you.” I continue with the joking nature. “So… do you think they’re done arguing?” I ask him.

            “Well from what I know of your father I’d say no. Kind of a git isn’t he?” He says this jokingly as if he is trying to not anger me.

            “You’re right. I’ll admit it. But let’s forget about them. What house are you hoping to be sorted in?” I ask excitedly. I of course, have looked at all the houses and researched their creators extensively. I have very distant relations to Salazar Slytherin after all.

            “Why Gryffindor of course. I’m a Weasley y’know! We all have been Gryffindors. My older brothers are as well.” He leans on the bookshelf and takes my book out of my hand. The pages flip open and he shows me what it says. “Mutare Pes. One I can’t wait to try out. Switches people’s feet it does. You’ll be walking with your right foot on your left and your left on your right! Brilliant I tell you.” He’s very passionate about mischief it seems. Maybe he will be fun.

            “Personally, I believe I will be put in Slytherin. Both of my families were Slytherin and I am quite ambitious.” As soon as I say this his face scrunches up.

            “A Slytherin? They’re all dark witches and wizards. They all think they’re better than anyone else. They’re evil!” Well that hurt. Why does he think that all Slytherins are evil? I know that several of them have become dark wizards but not all of them.

            “Not all Slytherin’s are evil you know. Merlin himself was a Slytherin.” Just as I say this Draco comes running into eyesight. Just in time as well because I almost got angry with George’s prejudice of people he’s never gotten to know before.

            “Come on Naomi. Tell the blood traitor bye, its time to get your wand.” Draco says with a sneer on his face directed at George.

            “Draco! You know better than to say those words around me. Let’s go.” I scold my brother and make my leave. I assume mother picked up the rest of my books because I surely didn’t.

 

 

            As Naomi left with Draco in tow, she said nothing to the Weasley boy that she had just been talking to. He was stunned. She had scolded her brother for calling him a blood traitor. From what he knew of the Malfoy family, they hated people like his. They hate muggles and anyone that had anything to do with them. But she was different. She was very different. He shook his head and smiled, deciding to look for his twin brother in the hopes that they could find some trouble to get into with all their family together before they head off to Hogwarts.

             

Chapter Text

One might say that the most important moment in a person’s life is when they have children or maybe it is when they get married. But for witches the most important moment in our lives is when we get our wand. I stand outside of Ollivander’s, petrified. ‘Aren’t you going to get your wand, witch’ my conscious sneers to me. I sigh and close my eyes. ‘I will. I’m nervous.’ My head pounds in aggravation and I turn my body around to face my family.

            “I want to go in alone.” I tell them with determination in my voice. I know they want me to wait to go in after the Weasley fiasco just an hour ago. You see, we left Flourish and Blotts and decided to go get food at the Leaky Cauldron. I ate a hearty meal of Bangers & Mash and some Gillywater. After that we decided to walk to Ollivander’s so that I can finally get a wand.

            “Are you sure? I saw that wretched Weasley clan go in there just a moment ago.” Father says in his higher pitched drawl. His back is as straight as possible and his black robes are blowing slightly in the summer breeze.

            “I am sure.” I tell them with determination in my voice.

            Draco whines from the side of our mother and I look away from father. “I wanted to go watch though!”

            “No Draco. I want to go alone.” I say with a stern tone in my voice. With that I turn away from my family and step through the doors.

            The inside of Ollivander’s is cluttered, filled with wands in every corner. The breeze reaches the inside of the building, in fact, it is quite cold in here. The walls are a deep dark wood with dark blue tapestries hanging on the sides. I’m very nervous, and my heart is beating rapidly. I put my hand on my chest and gave it a tap. At the counter towards the front I spot the entire Weasley clan for the second time today. They haven’t noticed me. I take thi8s time to analyze them. The twins are at the counter trying out some wands. They’re joking around and laughing amongst themselves. I look to their right where a young boy is standing trying to get them to pay attention to him. A little girl is at his side looking very annoyed with everything going on. Three of the older boys who were there earlier are sitting in the chairs talking to each other. Molly and Arthur, I assume are standing behind the twins looking like proud parents. Instead of staring any longer I walk up to the counter and stand several feet away from the Weasleys.

            “Mr. Ollivander.” I say in the haughty voice that I use when I speak with those that are in connection with my father. The Weasley’s look towards me quickly and Arthur immediately grabs George- the other one, I can’t tell, by the shoulder and pulls him away from me. Ollivander walks out from behind the stacks of wands quickly once he hears my voice.

            “Ah the young Lady Malfoy. I was wondering when you would come and visit me. Wait just a moment please.” He has a stiff smile on his face, and he gives a piece of paper to Molly. Right afterwards he comes up towards me.

            “Now I am not wrong in assuming that you are in need of a wand, correct?” He asks lightheartedly.

            “No,” diplomacy is a must in my family. So, I laugh at his joke. “you aren’t wrong.”

            “Well then, let me see…” He says this and then walks towards the back. I know the Weasleys are looking at the exchange and they want to see the type of wand that I am given. He walks back out with a box and hands it to me. “9in, Ash, Dragon heartstring.”

            I take the wand out of the box and hold it in my hands. Immediately a glass on the shelf in front of me breaks with a resounding boom. “Oh well that’s not it then.” Ollivander takes the wand out of my hand quickly muttering something about misjudging my character.

            “Here. Try this one.” And so, I broke more glass. Three more times I tried wands that weren’t for me. I was getting tired of this and I know the Weasleys were to. Standing here so long has made me realize that they are trying to pay for the two wands that they are purchasing.

            “You are a Rowan by blood yes?” Ollivander comes back out and asks me.

            “Yes. I am the last of us as of right now that exhibit magical abilities.” I tell him quietly. This caught the attention of Arthur Weasley as he moved slightly closer standing sideways, probably in a bid to keep me from knowing he is listening.

            “Years ago, your great grandfather gave my father a wand, one that he created with the core of something special that has been passed down in the Rowan family for years. This wand core has only been used once in history. Would you care to try this wand?” He says this so quiet that I must strain my ears to be able to hear anything. I nod slowly, scared of the secretive way he is saying things.

            He nods and goes to the back. My scar starts burning and my hands are shaking. I can feel eyes on me, and I try to ignore them. A wand? Passed down in the Rowan family, but never used? So why does he believe that this wand would work for me? My head hurts with all this confusion. By great-grandfather does he mean Ken? I’ve only met Ken Rowan once in my life. After Bellatrix cursed me when I was a child, Lucius took me to Ken so that he could attempt to keep me from having any long-lasting symptoms. After that I have had no contact with him, other than the occasional birthday present.

            “You look nervous. Where are your parents?” Arthur tries to calm me down, or maybe he is trying to get information out of me. I quit scratching my scar and cover my forearm.

            “I told them that I wanted to do this alone.” My words are harsh. I hope to end this conversation quickly. He notices my reluctance and I turn away. By now the only people who are still in here out of the Weasleys are the twins, the parents, and the good looking older one. The rest have since left the store.

            “Ah-ha! I have it.” In his hands is an all-black box decorated in silver ornaments in the shape of a snake. “This wand is 14in., Aspen wood, and… well I suppose I should allow your great-grandfather to tell you that. Just know, that you should never let anyone take this wand. Ever.”

            I take the box out of his hands and open it. Inside is a white wand, sleek, with intricate carvings. The top of the wand is that of what looks to be a snake. I stare at it for a moment in awe. There seems to be gold woven into the wand. A tentative hand reaches out to grab the wand. The moment that I touch it an overwhelming sensation of power envelops me. A light blares out of the tip of the wand and I know. We all know. This wand is mine. But only I know that I am this wands property as well.

            “Whereas I will not tell you about the core of this wand I will tell you about the length, wood, and flexibility. 14in., rather long, but not exceedingly so, you are outgoing. Reasonably swishy. The wood however is a different story. Aspen wood is good for duelers. For people who fight to change things.” I nod in awe. “Aspen is for revolutionaries Lady Malfoy.” My eyes widen and I can hear Arthur choke slightly. Probably thinking that means I will become a dark witch. When I look in the wandmakers eyes I can tell that is what he is thinking as well. I nod slowly trying to take in all the information before putting the wand back in the container and closing it.

            “I’ll pay after the Weasley family.” I smile brightly in a bid to lessen the tension and skip over behind them. Maybe if I put up a front, they will believe me.

            The Weasley’s manage to finish paying for the two wands and the oldest son gives me a small smile before they leave. Then one of the twins, I assume George, gives me a smile and a wink before leaving. It’s really a shame I never got the other twins name. I suppose I will know when we start at Hogwarts.

 

            I leave Ollivanders and can’t see my family anywhere. I realize they must have gotten tired of waiting and went somewhere else. I sit down on one of the benches and pull my wand out of the container. It still amazes me. The meaning behind the wood itself was enough to amaze me. A revolutionary? Me? To think that one day I might fight for something, I might help change things, its something that excites me. Maybe one day I will start a revolution. But for now, I would like to find my family so that we can go home and drink hot chocolate by a fire. Just then I notice my family walking down the street with a cage in hand. They near me and I stand and walk towards them.

            “Here, a present for you child.” Mother holds out a cage with the most beautiful owl I have ever seen. Pure white except for black at the tips of its wings. When I looked into the owls deep brown eyes, I could see recognition. As though this owl was going to be with me for a long time. I can only hope.

            “Oh, thank you! Oh my god, is it mine?” I squeal happily. I take the cage from my mum’s hands and hold it up.

            “It’s a male. What do you think you’ll name him?” She asks me with a smile.

            “I’m not sure, maybe Ludwick? Yes, I quite like that. He looks like a Ludwick.” We laugh and she holds onto my right arm. I cuddle close to my mother, suddenly being reminded that I will be leaving soon, and I won’t see her everyday anymore. No more daily teatime, no more family dinners, no more afternoon shopping. Nothing. I will be isolated from my family for months with no interference of their beliefs on my mind. I will be truly alone. And for once today, I give an honest and true smile.