Chapter Text
1879
Vera Bell is four years old, and her life is soft. Her days are marked by the silky fur of kneazles threading through her fingers, the cotton-ball warmth of puffskeins cuddled into her arms, and her parent’s gentle hugs. Their easy laughter, the plush bed her mother tucks her into every night, and the tender kisses her father presses to her forehead. Even before she could form memories, love has always surrounded her.
Later in life, Vera will learn that love is its own kind of magic.
Her mother, Ava, takes pride in her career. She’s a Healer at St Mungos, and a revered one, at that. Riley, her father, works for the Ministry. A top officer in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Beasts. Vera’s parents are warmhearted and mischievous people, and laughter and gentle teasing fill her days.
Thanks to Riley’s connections, their London flat contains a Vivarium. Within it, he houses and rehabilitates injured and endangered beasts. Ever her father’s daughter, Vera sneaks into it any chance she gets.
The beasts gravitate toward her, watching over Vera like they would their own offspring. Riley often gathers her into his arms and rolls around the ground while the creatures pile onto them. It’s a furry storm of affection, and one of Vera’s very favourite things.
Her parents dote on her every chance they get. “Why” and “how come” are Vera’s favourite words, and they can rarely resist indulging her curiosities. With messy blonde hair, ruddy cheeks like her father, and a smattering of freckles like her mother, Vera is a wildhearted child.
She has yet to learn that nothing lasts forever. Right now, Vera’s life is soft, and she knows nothing else.
1882
Vera is seven now. Which, if you ask her, is a very grown-up number. Her life is still soft, though something harsh hovers at the edges. She’s a smart girl, and perceptive enough to know that there’s something not quite…right about her. Still, her parents never make her feel as if she’s less than, or that there’s something wrong.
Yet, Vera notices the ease with which her family navigates their daily lives. Mummy cooks and tidies their flat with a few simple waves of her wand, and Daddy apparates to and from work every day.
She can’t wait for her own magic to appear. Vera dreams of all the things she’ll do someday, when it shows up. She’ll help Mummy with dishes, and Daddy with beast care. She’ll go to Hogwarts, and learn so many things. Someone told her that magic usually appears by the age of seven, but Mummy tells Vera she’s a late bloomer. There’s something about the way she smiles that makes Vera’s stomach squirm, though. Like the smile doesn’t reach Mummy’s eyes.
One of her favourite things is to listen to her parents’ stories of their time at Hogwarts. They always have such fun and amazing things to say about their school days. Vera’s heart thumps with excitement every time they tell a story, excitement for her own future. More than anything, Vera can’t wait to receive her acceptance letter.
Sometimes, she’ll nick Mummy’s wand to see if anything happens. Nothing ever has, though. It makes her cheeks warm with embarrassment every time, but she keeps telling herself, maybe it hasn’t happened yet. Maybe I have to keep waiting.
Regardless, Vera is not one to let things bother her for too long. She busies herself with her father’s beasts. Nothing comforts her like rolling around with the kneazles, tossing shiny bits and bobs to the nifflers, and cuddling the puffskeins.
Pearl is Vera’s favourite Kneazle, and her dearest companion. She’s slept in Vera’s bed and followed her around everywhere for as long as she can remember. Her fur is silky, and a brilliant white colour.
One night, Vera hears her parents whispering. They keep saying the word “squib”. Of course, when Vera hears a word she doesn’t know, she asks what it means. But Mummy and Daddy’s faces don’t look as cheerful as usual when they explain. They tell her a squib is someone born to magical folk who never develops magic of their own.
Vera feels shaky when she hears this. Tears well in her eyes, and as they cascade over her chubby cheeks, she peers up at her parents. “Mummy, Daddy, am I a s-squib?”
They hug her. It’s so warm. “We don’t know,” they say. “But no matter what, we’ll always love you, and you’ll always have a place in our world.”
But later that night, Vera overhears Mummy crying. Saying it’s her fault, because she waited so long to have children. Vera doesn’t know what that means, but it makes tears prick at her eyes.
She pulls her pillow over her head. What’s going to happen if her magic never comes? Will she still go to Hogwarts? Will she have to get a muggle job? What if no one in the magical world wants anything to do with her? Vera quivers as the thoughts surround her like darkness.
1884
Dad comes home late today. He doesn’t even say hi to Vera as he walks in. Instead, he guides Mum toward the kitchen. They’re speaking in hushed, terse tones, but she can only just hear her father’s urgent whisper if she strains her ears hard enough from the sitting room.
“I have to go! Even if the Ministry hadn’t assigned me to this operation, I don’t think I could ignore this. These poachers have gone too bloody far. Unicorns, Ava! They’re already endangered! From the reports we’ve received, they’ve already killed almost twenty for their blood. They mentioned a remaining foal locked in a cage…I won't ignore this. It shouldn’t take more than a day or two. We’ve dealt with this lot before.”
Mum’s quiet, too. “I know. I won’t stop you. Please, Riley, be careful. What will we tell Vera? You know this will be dangerous.”
Unicorns? Dangerous? Vera bristles. Her parents never hide anything from her. Why are they talking about it now? The secrecy makes her feel dizzy, like something she can’t grasp is about to change.
Dad doesn’t speak for a few moments. When he does, his voice sounds stuffy, like he has a cold. “I’ll tell her I’m going to study hippogriffs for the Ministry. There’s no reason for her to know and worry this time. I’ll be alright.” Mum sighs.
But Vera’s heard everything. She frowns, feeling worry wriggle in her gut. It doesn’t make sense why her dad would hide anything from her. He's never done that before. Vera doesn’t understand anything that’s happening.
≻༻❁༺≺
Dad’s been gone for days, and Mum hasn’t said anything about it. A sense of dread’s hovered over the house since he left, but finally, Vera’s sense of curiosity pushes her forward. She steps into the kitchen, where Mum sits at the table. Her hands twist into her hair, blonde, so much like hers.
“Mum?”
Her exhausted expression makes Vera’s heart quiver.
She clasps her hands in front of her, eyes glued to the floor. “Dad should have been back by now. Is he okay?”
Mum’s face is usually so cheerful, but now it sags, and tears form in her eyes. “I don’t know, Vera. He hasn’t contacted me since he left.”
Fear pools in Vera’s stomach. “He wasn’t studying beasts, was he?” Of course, she already knows the answer. Her mum nods, and tears slip down her cheeks.
Both Mum and Vera jump as a loud crack echoes through the kitchen. A silvery doe canters through the wall, and her heart thrills with hope. That’s Dad’s Patronus!! The doe looks at them with mournful eyes. Time stands still as they stare at each other.
Then it speaks. “Vera…Ava…I’m so sorry. I freed the unicorn foal. It'll have a scar, but it’s free. But the poachers, they caught me. I don’t think I’ll make it out of this alive. I’m…I’m so, so sorry.”
Vera furrows her brow. Why is he sorry? He did what he set out to do, right? All he needs to do is run! Why is he sending a Patronus when he could be running?
The doe flickers for a moment, and her father’s voice chokes. “Remember, Vera, always be true to who you are. Don’t be afraid to question things. No matter what, I know you will achieve great things. I hope you live a long life with lots of laughter and friends. Ava, I love you. You were the best partner I could have ever hoped for. Please take care of Vera."
No, no, no. This doesn’t make any sense. He’s right there speaking to them! Why is he saying goodbye like he’ll never see them again? Behind Vera, Mum lets out a strangled sob. The sound cuts deep, and Vera realises something is really wrong. If Mum’s crying, it must be.
His Patronus flickers again, but his voice continues. "I love you both now and will love you from wherever I go when I leave this life.” It lingers a few beats longer, then disappears. Vera touches her face, surprised to find it wet. She doesn’t understand. It doesn’t make any sense.
Mum’s sobbing now. Vera reaches for her, and they cry in each other's arms. Vera feels like a part of her’s been ripped away, and she doesn’t know how to exist without it.
When Mum receives word that the Ministry located Dad’s body, reality sets in. At Dad’s funeral, Vera is numb, blank, only vaguely aware of the hundreds of people in attendance. Mum pulls her aside and tells her in her gentlest voice that Riley touched the lives of many people in his work, and that his death has made a lot of them very sad.
Vera doesn’t understand, though, how anyone else can experience the vast emptiness she and her mother feel. To her, half of her world has vanished without warning. All Vera has left are her mother and the beasts.
It takes her a long time to see the world as anything but grim, but Vera is lucky Ava is her mum. Together, they cry, and despair, and share their grief for months. For years. And together, bit by bit, they build a new life around the massive hole left by Dad’s death.
Vera grows to understand that nothing will ever replace him, but there’s still joy to be found in the world. And the beasts are her saving grace; because of them, Vera feels she still has a piece of Dad with her.
When she feels sad, she sits in the enchanted space and lets the breeze ruffle her hair. Lets the creatures gather around her and tumble over her lap. It’s not the same, it’ll never be the same, but to Vera, some small part of Dad lives on in the Vivarium.
1887
Vera’s happy to turn eleven, but there’s a long-buried bitterness. She knows by now that she’s a squib. She knows she’ll never have any magic, or go to Hogwarts, or be a witch in any capacity. Dad’s death forced an edge of practicality upon her, and a sense of tenacity.
Vera tells herself she doesn't need magic. She’ll carve her own path without it. All Vera really needs are her beasts, and her mum. Besides, to live as a squib in the magical world is still better than living as one amongst muggles.
Vera contents herself by caring for the beasts her father left behind, and by spending her days alongside her mother. Jokes, meals, and companionship mark the days that pass. Sure, Vera’s bitter underneath it all, but she’s not going to waste time wishing for what she can’t have.
1892
At sixteen years old, Vera’s worked out a comfortable groove for herself. She cares for the beasts she inherited and collects their byproducts. Thanks to contacts made through her late father, she has a roster of clients, mostly potioneers, who purchase them. This provides her with a modest amount of money. She spends her days with the closest reminders she has of her father.
Someday, she’ll save up enough to support herself. Even if fate’s doomed her to live as a squib, beast care is the worthiest career she can imagine. Vera faces her future with a shield forged from humour and determination.
It’s especially stormy in London today. Thunder rumbles so loud it shakes the flat, and lightning arcs through the sky. The wind rattles the windows. Vera pities any muggle navigating the outdoors. She’s inside, uneasy and pacing aimlessly, but not because of the storm.
Pearl’s gone into labour today. Vera didn’t even catch her pregnancy until a day ago, and Mum determined she only carried one foetus. She itches the back of her head, drumming her fingers along her thigh. Kneazles typically have litters. Single-births are rare and have a higher chance of complications.
Usually Pearl would follow her every move, but she’s resting on the sofa now, mewling. Vera ushers her toward the Vivarium. Together, they pad inside, and she creates a soft spot in the lush grass for them to nestle. The sun beams down upon them, and the nearby river trickles. A warm breeze passes over Vera and Pearl.
She runs her fingers through her fur, soft, soothing, strokes. She’d never admit it, but part of her has always thought a part of her dad lives on in Pearl. It might be a silly notion, but it’s comforting.
However, despite the Vivarium’s loveliness, as comfortable as the nest Vera fashioned is, Pearl’s labour isn’t progressing. Time passes at a crawl, and as Pearl’s breathing becomes more ragged, more heavy, Vera’s distress grows. She picks at her fingernails as Pearl shifts around.
What is she supposed to do? The kneazle is panting hard now, and the ground sways around Vera’s feet as panic sets in. What can she do? Mum isn’t due home from work for hours, and none of her clients know anything about beast care. And Dad…Dad is gone.
Vera kneels and gathers Pearl in her arms. Tears tumble down her cheeks and her heart beats a staccato against her chest. “I don’t know what to do, Pearl!” She chokes, her sobs turning into uncontrollable gasps. “Please Pearl, I don’t know how to help!”
Pearl raises her head weakly. Her gaze is full of love and surrender. With an icy trickle of dread, Vera realises her beloved companion is dying. She’s going to lose her closest friend, and there’s nothing she can do about it.
Fury flashes through Vera, white-hot and searing. If only she wasn’t a squib, if only she’d been born with magic! She could help, she could save her life. In her chest her heart clenches, caught in a vice grip. Memories of Pearl flash through her mind, her soft mews, her bedtime cuddles, her constant presence throughout Vera’s life.
She sobs, burying her face in her soft fur. “I’m s-so sorry, Pearl! I’m so sorry! I love you so much! I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.” Pearl’s mewls only make her sob harder. It’s too much, too overwhelming. Her heart can barely contain the overflowing love she feels for the kneazle. And now she’s going to lose her.
Vera’s too distracted by the overwhelming love and grief to notice, but a buzzing alights in her core. It grows stronger and stronger until hiccuping; she stops sobbing. It’s a desperate, almost feral sensation.
Vera quivers and holds her dear kneazle closer as the thrumming envelops her entire body. Behind her closed eyelids, a brilliant glow flashes. Vera opens her eyes and gapes. An impossibly bright light, emanating from her , surrounds them, humming as if sentient.
In her arms, Pearl goes limp. “N-no!! Pearl, please, no!” Vera’s every nerve fires, feels alight, alive, powerful . The sight of the kneazle’s body swims before her, then, as the glow flares and becomes twice as bright, shoots into sharp focus. Pearl has stilled, stopped panting, but she’s not dead. Just to her left, a newborn kneazle squirms, mewling and seeking its mother’s warmth.
Vera stares in wonder. Pearl licks the newborn, taking to motherhood instantly, as if nothing happened.
The surrounding light dissipates, and Vera falls backwards. Blades of grass poke into her face as she gazes at the sky, flabbergast. What on earth just happened? Pearl was clearly dying, clearly, but…the light? A glow? Vera’s head spins. She grips fistfuls of grass for support. She breathes in deeply, and holds. Exhales with a soft whoosh. A wave of relief washes over her.
It doesn’t matter, does it? Pearl is alive, and her newborn is already suckling and kneading at her belly. Vera lays in the grass, overcome with silent acceptance. That’s right, it doesn’t matter.
And she stays there, occasional giggles of disbelief escaping her lips, until an owl swoops through the Vivarium’s door. It wheels around in the air, dropping an envelope onto her chest, and flies out.
With rubbery arms, Vera props herself up. The envelope is cream-coloured and of high quality. Turning it over, she notices a seal on the back. A lion, badger, eagle, and snake…Vera’s heart pounds. Surely, this is a sick joke. There’s no way.
Her hands shake, nearly dropping the letter several times before she finally manages to open it. Inside, another thick piece of paper bears her name at the top.
Miss Vera Bell,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a fifth-year student.
Term begins on the 1st of September.
We have collected preliminary supplies for you. They will accompany you on your journey to the castle. Because of your unique circumstances, the Ministry has graciously allowed Professor Elezear Fig to escort you from London to the castle. Please report to Professor Fig for further instructions.
Warm regards,
Professor Weasley,
Deputy Headmistress
The letter flutters to the ground. Vera gapes, eyes round. Her mind is blank for several moments before reality sets in - her dream, the dream she’d long abandoned, is coming true. Vera is going to Hogwarts. She flops back into the grass, laughing as Pearl carries her newborn and drops it upon her.