FOR A MOTHER AND DAUGHTER to become so distant, it was almost as if they were two strangers living under one roof. Eleanor wanted nothing more to connect with the woman but at the same time, whenever they were in the same room, she could see the fear in Margaret's eyes. There had been a naive sense of hope that had coursed through Eleanor when she turned eleven and the time came where the two were finally given some answers.
As usual, Eleanor normally hid away in her room when she wasn't doing school work with her mother, it was the only way she felt she could escape the judgemental look that she swore had taken over Margaret's face permanently. Margaret attempted to play it off, claiming that there was nothing wrong with them and reassured her nearly every day that she loved Eleanor more than anything. However, while Margaret said one thing, Eleanor always seemed to experience quite the opposite reaction, what was she to make of the situation whenever her mother flinched if she suddenly moved too fast?
Or when something strange did happen, Margaret would lock herself away in the bedroom for the day. Eleanor was hardly allowed to go outside unless she remained close to the home and she couldn't remember the last time she had actually gone into town. She just wanted something that was going to settle Margaret's mind, enough that they would be on better terms to function properly.
The hope came in the form of a letter that arrived one afternoon in the most peculiar way. Eleanor had been upstairs in her room, as usual, working on the new knitted scarf she had started just that morning. It was a hobby that she had picked up back when she was seven years old after she had watched Margaret make several items of clothing. She wanted to learn but she didn't dare ask her mother for help, instead, she watched from the distance, taking the old knitting needles that were around the house and put them to use with the yarn she had taken from the small wicker basket.
Margaret was aware that her daughter had picked up the hobby, watching as little knitting patterns would emerge almost overnight as Eleanor worked on them for hours upon hours. So for Christmases and birthdays, her gifts usually consisted of yarn and new knitting needles, something Eleanor was grateful for but even if the two shared the same love for knitting, it didn't bring them any closer.
Lying on her bed and working on the navy blue scarf, Eleanor's mind was drifting to an entirely different place. One where she was happy and free, with Margaret in her company and what she envisioned the man who walked out on them all those years ago. He was there, playing an active role as a father, and everything was fine, everyone was happy and getting along. However, the daydream was interrupted by the sound of her mother screaming and the sound of glass shattering to the floor downstairs.
Jumping up to her feet, Eleanor had made her way downstairs, poking her head into the kitchen to find Margaret near the sink, glass all over the floor as she had dropped a couple of dishes. Just as Eleanor was about to ask what was going on, she stopped as she heard a tapping sound come from the window. Looking over, she didn't know what to make of the scene of an owl, holding up an envelope and as she grew closer, Eleanor could see that it was addressed to her as her name was written smack dab in the middle.
"For me?"
She could hardly believe it, a letter for her? In all her eleven years of life, no one had ever sent her anything in the post, and yet, her first letter came in the delivery form of an owl. Unable to contain her excitement, Eleanor raced outside the home, ignoring her mother's calls that yelled for her to come back. In no mood to listen, Eleanor wrapped around the corner only to have the tawny owl drop the letter at her feet and then fly away.
Knowing that her mother would probably come to take it away from her, Eleanor snatched up the letter from the ground and ripped it open to read the letter inside.
Eleanor was simply beside herself for a few moments as she stood there, completely bewildered by everything written down in the letter. She had been accepted into a school, but not just any school, one that was meant for practising witchcraft and wizardry. So that left her believing there was only one practical outcome, she was a witch. Never one really to cry, she must have felt completely overwhelmed at the time as tears of relief streamed down her face as she finally had an answer. There wasn't a demon attached to her, she wasn't the Devil, she was simply a witch.
"Ellie! Ellie!" Margaret's screams sounded behind her before the woman came around the corner. "Ellie, what-"
Margaret didn't even finish her sentence as she saw the letter in Eleanor's hand and quickly snatched it away from her to read.
"Isn't this great, Mum?" Eleanor asked her after a minute, not making note that her mother's face had drained of all colour. "I'm not a monster, I'm a witch! I'm a witch and I can go to a school-"
"Absolutely not!"
The scene had become silent and despite the sun actually being out for a short period of time, it was the coldest Eleanor had ever felt the air turn. Little did the eleven-year-old realise that witch and monster were mere synonyms in her mother's vocabulary, raised to believe that witchcraft was the work of the Devil. The excited and delighted expression fell from Eleanor's face as she could clearly see Margaret ripping up the letter.
"No!" Eleanor went to take it from her hands. "NO! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!"
In Eleanor's mind, the letter had been everything she needed to escape and there Margaret was, ripping up the last bit of hope that her daughter had left. Dropping to her knees, Eleanor collected every bit of the shredded paper and held it all in her hands, feeling the tears return but this time, they did not fall out of relief, but out of grief.
"Eleanor, you do not want to be labelled as a witch-"
"I hate you!" Eleanor cried cutting Margaret's words off. " I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"
Margaret was stunned by Eleanor's yelling, the words that were coming out of her mouth, and the fact that the kitchen window had shattered behind her with no clear cause. The two of them in the midst of Eleanor's yelling didn't hear the cracking sound in the distance and as Eleanor cradled the pieces of shredded paper, she let it out once more.
"I hate you so much."
"Now, that is no way to speak to your mother."
The sound of a third voice entering the conversation, brought both of the Ross females to look over and see a stern-faced woman standing before them. Margaret quickly backed away, unsure where the stranger had come from, lifting Eleanor to her feet and pulling her back as well. Eleanor was too busy noting the woman's odd clothing of long black robes and a pointed hat. Her green eyes locked on Eleanor for a moment, before trailing down to where she was holding the remnants of her letter.
"Who are you and what do you want?" Margaret asked in a low tone as she placed her daughter behind her in a protective manner.
"I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, " the woman answered, " Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and I believe you just tore up the letter I sent. Fortunately, for you, I have another one on me."
Reaching into her robes, Professor McGonagall pulled out another letter but rather than handing it to Margaret, she handed it towards Eleanor. However, Margaret went to grab it but McGonagall was a lot faster.
"She's not a witch!" Margaret shook her head. "Sh-she can't be!"
"But I am, Mum! I am!" Eleanor protested. "The letter said-"
"Be quiet, Eleanor!"
McGonagall's gaze went back and forth between the two, her eyes lingering on Eleanor a little while longer, noting the tear stained cheeks and the trembling lip. Yet, there was something behind the eyes of the child that brought a sense of familiar back to the witch that left a slight upward pull to the corner of the woman's lips.
"Ms Ross," she began looking back up at Margaret, " I would like to speak with you in private concerning the letter and the school. Eleanor will remain outside."
Thinking that her mother was going to put up far more protest, Eleanor was left stunned as she remained outside after the women ventured into the home. Through the windows and the doors, she tried to listen to the conversation that was taking place inside but with no such luck as she couldn't hear the slightest bit of sound coming from in there. She began to wonder if they were talking at all or simply sitting in total silence.
They seemed to be inside for ages, at least, according to the patience span that Eleanor did not possess very much of. However, with the new letter in hand, she looked past the first piece of paper and read over the second that contained her supplies list. From the sets of black robes to the dragon hide gloves, Eleanor found herself holding the piece of paper closer and closer to her face in disbelief.
Especially after she scanned over the textbook titles and her eyes fell on one item in particular.
A wand.
"I get a wand?"
"You certainly do, it is a required item to perform magic."
Eleanor jumped and whipped around to see McGonagall standing behind her once more, the woman certainly had a knack for sneaking up on people when they were distracted. She quickly noticed that her mother was not with her, which Eleanor found odd, was she dead?
"Where's my-"
"I'm afraid we do not have time for light chatter, right now, we must remain on schedule," McGonagall said to her, " if you have your list, we will be going now."
"Going? Going where?!" Eleanor looked back in the direction of her home. "Mum!"
Margaret came out a couple of moments later, looking absolutely drained. "You go on, Eleanor, I will be here when you get back."
Perhaps if everyone wasn't so vague or mysterious about their answer, Eleanor wouldn't have felt so nervous about the idea of leaving anywhere with a woman she had only briefly met. But her mother was trusting McGonagall to take her somewhere and then bring her back. It seemed out of the ordinary for Margaret, especially since she didn't even let Eleanor leave the house.
"Where are we going?" Eleanor whispered to McGonagall, clutching her letter tightly and taking a step back. "You're not going to hurt me, are you? You're not going to put me away?"
For a moment, the stern gaze faltered on McGonagall's behalf, taking a softer appearance as she stared down at the frightened girl.
"I am not here to hurt you, Ms Ross, I am here to help you."
Eleanor did not understand the pure honour of being in the company of Minerva McGonagall and having the witch be her escort to collect her school supplies. She was too caught up in the idea of magic and what she was witnessing around her as they travelled to a place called Diagon Alley. She didn't even realise that the deputy headmistress had taken it upon herself to pay for all of her school supplies, there was too much going on for Eleanor to focus on anything for more than a second.
Being brought to London for the first time was overwhelming enough, mainly because Eleanor had hardly stepped foot off the property of her home. London was loud and crowded beyond anything, but McGonagall claimed they were not shopping for her school supplies directly in London, but a place called Diagon Alley that was specifically designed for magic folk.
It was a cobblestone wizarding alley, decorated with all sorts of shops that seemed normal from a distance until Eleanor noticed items moving on their own. There were fabrics moving around to drape and fashion themselves into robes and dresses, flying broom demonstrations, and an owl nearly around every corner.
Not sure whether to be alarmed or excited, Eleanor's hands clutched onto the sleeve of her escort, bringing McGonagall to peer down at her through the corner of her eye.
"Are all these people magic?" Eleanor whispered to her.
"Yes, they wouldn't be here otherwise, the only exception would be muggles travelling with their children to collect the supplies."
"What's a muggle?"
Eleanor also didn't realise that she was in the company of one of the most informed witches of her time. Within minutes, McGonagall was giving Eleanor the rundown of things in the wizarding world, telling her that muggles were non-magic folk, like her mother and how they were not normally permitted to know about the hidden wizarding world. Even Eleanor was going to have to keep it a secret when in the company of muggles, with the exception of her mother because she was sworn to secrecy. Apparently, she could get in a lot of trouble if she mentioned her magic or even showed it.
Perhaps it wasn't such a terrible thing that her mother had kept her inside for all those years. But McGonagall went on to explain that it wasn't the case, what Eleanor had been exhibiting was classified as "Accidental Magic" which was common within magic children growing up as they didn't have a sense of control. Every incident from the toys moving and the lights flickering was explained to Eleanor, which brought her to let out a pitiful laugh.
"And here my mother thought I was the Devil for so long, " she said quietly, " jokes on her."
While McGonagall could understand the mother's thought process, she didn't like listening to the child refer to herself as the Devil, simply due to magic. Even she had come from a religious family with her own father as a Presbyterian Minister and not once did he ever say such a thing to Minerva or her younger brothers. She could see the solemn effect that it had taken on Eleanor over the years. Despite being surrounded by magic and learning that it was alright for her to perform it, Eleanor still looked defeated.
"We should start off by getting your wand first," McGonagall told her, hoping to distract Eleanor from her own thoughts, "it will be a good start to the trip."
Eleanor didn't question much of what McGonagall told her, truth be told, McGonagall was the first person Eleanor had interacted with outside of her mother in a very long time. It was just nice to be in the company of someone other than someone who viewed her as evil. Entering the wandshop called "Ollivander's" Eleanor remained close to McGonagall, looking all around at the amount of boxes that seemed to line the walls.
Ahead of them the wandmaker was already at work, with two boys in front of him with bright red hair, only it seemed they had already found their wands and were using them to sword fight. There was a woman with equally as red hair, attempting to pull them apart as she scolded them.
"Fred and George Weasley! You stop that this instant!" the woman bellowed, bringing both boys to freeze in place momentarily and look over in her direction. "Now, you thank Mr Ollivander and we will be on our way to meet up with your father and the others."
Both boys turned to the grey-haired man and thanked him in unison, and when they turned around, Eleanor was able to note the obvious that they were, in fact, twins. Of course, as soon as the woman, who Eleanor presumed to be their mother had their back turned, the boys continued in the sword fighting, not paying attention to anyone in the vicinity. They were coming closer and it looked like McGonagall was going to interfere but it was too late as one as the wands went flying and managed to clock Eleanor right in the eye.
As soon as she cried out, the shop fell silent right away as all the adults and the twins turned to look at Eleanor covering her eye. Their mother's head turned slow, in a menacing manner to look at her sons, and quickly they pointed at each other to place the blame. It wasn't so bad for Eleanor, she wasn't particularly hurt, but it did hurt just being poked in the eye as her hand remained pressed over it.
"Fred! Is that your wand?!"
"Uh...no," One of them said with a sheepish grin before walking over to collect the wand from the floor, only to have Eleanor glare at him using her one good eye. "Sorry about that."
"I'm sure you are," Eleanor huffed in return. Grabbed by the back of his knitted jumper, Fred and his twin, George were practically dragged out by the Weasley mother, only to have her pause to smile and apologise in Eleanor's direction and greet McGonagall with a bow of her head. As soon as the three red-heads were out of the shop, they heard the woman explode.
To draw the attention away from the scolding taking outside, McGonagall moved Eleanor forward in the direction of the wandmaker, introducing him as Garrick Ollivander.
"Are you alright, dear?" Mr Ollivander asked her, bringing Eleanor to nod her head and lower her hand.
"I'm fine," she answered, " thank you. Are you going to help me find my wand or do I have to try all of them out in here?"
Ollivander let out a hearty laugh before shaking his head. "Oh no, if you were to try out all the wands in this shop, I'm afraid you would be here for days. No, you should only have to try a few. I'm fairly good at my job, I usually manage to make a match within the first couple of tries. Just as long as you trust my judgment."
"Well, I don't know much about wands," Eleanor admitted to him, " so yes, I trust you."
"Very well, let's get started then."
As Ollivander began pulling wands out, McGonagall began explaining that Eleanor was only permitted to use her wand in school, she wouldn't even be allowed to perform magic inside of her home anymore or she would find herself facing trouble from the Ministry of Magic, which instantly brought her to frown.
"But you told me it was accidental, I don't have control over it, or at least, I don't think I do. It really only happens when I get really upset and that's usually because well...my mum thinks magic and such is evil. She thinks I'm evil. She fears me."
"Well, she won't be saying such things to you now," McGonagall said to her, " I shared a long discussion with her to help her better understand you. And accidental magic is much different from intentional magic."
Ollivander returned placing a box in front of Eleanor and glancing at her through the corner of his eye after overhearing what the two were talking about.
"Try this one out, my dear, " Ollivander said opening it up and revealing the wand inside, " I think you might like it and it might like you."
Eleanor was reaching for it until he said the latter part before she stopped herself and peered up at him. "It might like me? It's a piece of wood, it doesn't have feelings....does it?"
She went to retract her hand as the man laughed once more. "Wands are quite special, they're not a mere piece of wood. Only special wood is selected from certain trees and they all have a special core that bring it to life in a way. You might be surprised but you don't get to chose the wand inside this shop. There is a wand that is ready for every witch and wizard that comes in, but it has to choose them."
"Do they talk!?" Eleanor squealed excitedly.
"I'm afraid not, but they give you a way of knowing that you're chosen, go ahead and try it out."
Reaching for it once more, Eleanor lifted the wand out of the box, unsure of what she was supposed to do with it. She felt like it would be somewhat cliché to just wave it around, but as she looked it over, she smiled. It reminded her of one of her knitting needles back home although it was in much better condition. She turned it to see how it would managed as one.
"Nine and half inches, made from Cedar, " Ollivander spoke after a few moments of silence, allowing Eleanor to observe, "and Cedar often finds those with strength of character and unusual loyalty."
"Is that me?" Eleanor asked him, looking up and missing how the end of the wand glowed in her hand. Ollivander smiled and even McGonagall as it seemed she had found her match rather quickly.
"I believe so," Ollivander continued, "and the loyalty extends even further when paired with a unicorn hair as the core-"
"THERE ARE UNICORNS?!"
It seemed Eleanor had a lot to learn about the world she was getting ready to enter but she would, just over the course of time.
Returning home later that evening, Eleanor was apprehensive about entering the house and seeing her mother. Even if McGonagall had reassured her that everything would get better, Eleanor wasn't so sure. Walking up the steps of the home, she turned around to see that McGonagall was not following her.
"Aren't you going to come inside?" she asked in a small voice.
"I must go for now, but I will see you when you arrive at the school for the Sorting. Go on inside, Eleanor, everything will be fine."
Taking a deep breath, Eleanor carried in some of her bags, entering the living room, only to see her mother sitting at the kitchen table in the distance. At the sound of the door opening, Margaret had looked up to see her daughter returning and everything became quiet until Eleanor spoke first.
"I'm home."
"I see," Margaret replied, " how...how did it go?"
Seeing as her mother wasn't throwing a cross at her or splashing her with holy water while reciting verses from the Bible, Eleanor was seeing it as a pretty good start. However, as she thought about everything she had experienced that afternoon alone, she felt overwhelmed once more with excitement as she ran over to her mother.
"Mum, it was amazing! You should have seen it all! It was...there were owls and toads, there were flying broomsticks! Dresses that made themselves! There was a goblin! And-"
"What happened to your eye, it looks red," Margaret interjected.
"Oh, some boy poked me in the eye with a wand but....OH MY GOODNESS! MUM....I HAVE A WAND!"
Reaching into one of the bags, Eleanor pulled out the wand she had been matched with and showed it to her mother.
"Professor McGonagall says we're not allowed to use it outside of school until we turn seventeen years old. But look at it! Isn't it beautiful?!"
In her excitement, Eleanor went to hold it under the light of the lamp, but instead, she ended up breaking said lamp as it smashed to the floor.
"Oops."