Chapter Text
The cold, damp air bit at Juliana’s face and she tightened the scarf around her neck. Her footsteps echoed through the otherwise empty corridors, as everyone else was in the Great Hall, or the common rooms with their friends. Her scarf tickled her nose. The entire uniform felt uncomfortable like her body knew she wasn’t supposed to wear it. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong at Hogwarts, where her accent stuck out like a sore thumb, where no one pronounced her name correctly (Juliana with an H sound, not Yuliana), and the food - ugh. She didn’t belong on this continent, much less as far north as she’d ever been in her life. Her home was San Antonio, Texas, with its oppressive heat and humidity during the summer times, or Ilvermorny during the school year, deep in the mountains. She missed them both. She missed watching the leaves change from the castle’s perch on Mount Greylock, nestled among the spruce trees, and the greenery in the spring when the aster bloomed.
More than anything, she missed her mom.
Lupita didn’t understand magic, and as a no-maj (muggle, the British wizards called them muggles, Juliana reminded herself) she never would. She didn’t know her husband was a squib when they got married so how was she supposed to know that magic sometimes skipped a generation or two; lingering dormant for decades at a time. Juliana’s magic shocked everyone to the core except her father. She’ll never forget his face when they found out: a dangerous mixture of disgust and rage.
Despite the unique struggles that came with raising a magical daughter, Lupita adapted. The Valdés women were resourceful and knew how to land on their feet.
Maybe, if Juliana were kinder, she could forgive him. She could chalk up his mood swings, drinking, and explosive temper on his situation. It couldn’t have been easy being born a squib - non-magical in a magical family. That’s the excuse Lupe repeatedly made for him, he’s had a hard life Juliana or have empathy, Juliana. Juliana wasn’t like her mother. She inherited her father’s ability to hold a grudge. The spite settled into her soul until it calcified into something permanent.
Everything was Macario “El Chino” Valdés’ fault. Every bad memory and every miserable experience in her life were all were linked to him. He was the reason she was a continent away, in a foreign country for school instead of home. He was the reason they fled their home, running for their lives with dangerous men a step behind them. Resentment swelled in her, setting her face back into a resting scowl. She did not notice a swarm of first years parting like the Red Sea as she stomped past them.
If she had gold, they could get away from him and his darkness. They could start over somewhere new, maybe Mexico, where her mother was from, or even further south.
Juliana ran her hand over her inside pocket, feeling for the slip of smooth parchment paper. Her fingers skimmed over it for the thirtieth time. The crinkles reassured her it was still safe. She removed her hand and chewed on her thumbnail.
She pushed open the doors to the Great Hall. The sky glowered grey with dark, rolling clouds, hiding the sun. The brightest light source glowed from the center of the room. The four, long, house tables were moved to the sides, creating a clear pathway. A gigantic wooden goblet stood in the center of the room. It was as tall as the average man, and filled to the brim with leaping blue-white flames.
The Goblet of Fire.
Its light cast flickering shadows on the students seated around it, well away from the boundary of the age line.
Juliana froze near the door, which closed behind her with a thud. She crept off to the side and out of the way. Her thumbnail stung as she bit harder. She only needed to put her name in. The rest was up to chance.
The doors to the hall burst open, as a girl and boy entered together. Their hasty strides echoed across the hall but she could still hear their hushed, angry voices. Their pale blue robes billowed out behind them with their long strides. Beauxbatons, Juliana rolled her eyes, so dramatic.
“I’m entering my name, Lucho! This has nothing to do with you!”
Juliana blinked. Spanish?
Ever since the international students arrived, she’d only heard the Beauxbatons students speak French. Even the food served last night was French, to cater to their guests. She didn’t expect Spanish, much less Mexican Spanish. The girl’s accent was Mexican, upper class - what was the term? A niña fresa - and different than her mother’s, but the familiar language sent a deep pang of longing shooting through her.
“I’m your boyfriend! You should support me!”
The boyfriend, Lucho, grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to the side and glowered down at her. “You make me so angry, Valentina!”
The girl, Valentina, shook him off and stormed towards the Goblet. The girl turned to look at her boyfriend, glaring at him right before dropping her name into the Goblet’s flames. The blue flames flared red, casting shadows underneath her prominent cheekbones.
He stomped after her, throwing his name into the goblet as well. The two crossed the goblet’s boundary and walked briskly towards the doors again, back where Juliana stood, watching from the shadows.
“Don’t come looking for me when you don’t get picked!” He shouted. He swept out the doors and to the left, towards the Grand Staircase.
“Don’t worry; I won’t!” She yelled after his retreating back. Soon, he was out of sight. She huffed, also exiting the hall, turning right. The double doors slammed shut behind her.
Juliana approached the goblet, pulling out a scrap of parchment from her robe pocket. The blue-white flame from inside illuminated her name, written in neat penmanship. Everything was right; she just had to put her name in. This was it. She breathed in, her earlier nerves coming back strong without the distraction. Her palms sweated and her heart skipped a beat. Be brave.
Summoning her courage, she tossed the parchment into the flames. They glowed red. It accepted her name. It accepted her.
The students milling around the goblet clapped and for the first time since transferring to this school Juliana beamed.
----
Juliana exited the Great Hall. The Halloween Feast was later tonight, along with the selection of champions, meaning there were no classes. The rest of the afternoon was hers to enjoy. The library might actually be empty this afternoon. With that happy thought, she cut across the Transfiguration Courtyard, looking around in habit. The courtyard wasn’t large - a patch of grass and a single tree in the corner, with stone benches scattered around the perimeter. Its name came from the proximity to the Transfiguration classroom. The Beauxbatons girl from earlier sat on a stone bench near the large tree. She was alone, silently crying, swiping at her face with the back of her hand. Juliana stopped in her tracks. Something tugged in her chest. Without thinking, she approached her.
“Are you okay?” Juliana asked in Spanish. The girl looked up at her, and Juliana was struck by just how blue her eyes were. They sparked with unshed tears, glittering crystal clear blue, like the bottom of a lake. She looked away, swiping at her face again.
“I’m fine,” she answered, voice cracking. She shivered in her thin, silk robes. Juliana looked up at the overcast sky, darkening with the promise of rain in the evening. Juliana sat next to her on the bench. The cold seeped through her thick robes underneath her legs, sending shivers down her spine. She could only imagine how cold the Beauxbatons girl felt.
“Are you cold?” Juliana asked. She unwound her red and gold scarf from around her neck. “It’s not much, but you can wear it.”
She extended her hand with the scarf. She wondered if she should have offered her cloak too.
The other girl didn’t look at her. “I want to be alone,” she said.
Juliana dropped her hand. Stupid. She didn’t know this girl. What was she doing?
“Sorry. I saw you fight with your boyfriend earlier and- you’re right, I’m sorry, I’ll go.” Juliana stood up from the bench, leaving her scarf beside her. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Wait.” Juliana turned around. The girl blinked at her with large, watery eyes. “I’m sorry. Thank you, that’s very kind of you. Thank you.”
Juliana sat back down beside her. The other girl wrapped the scarf around her neck, still shivering.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, leaning forward.
“I don’t understand guys,” she said exasperated. She shook her head, sending long brown hair tumbling around her face. “My boyfriend acts like by entering the tournament I’m making him look bad- as if!”
Juliana wasn’t sure what to say about her boyfriend troubles, having never dated herself. She looked around helplessly, finally settling on her clothes. She touched the other girl’s sleeve. “I like your robes. The color is very pretty. It matches your eyes.”
“Thank you.” She looked at Juliana, eyes looking up and down. Juliana knew she looked sloppy in comparison. Her robes were second hand and an inch too short around her ankles, with the wear and tear of daily use fading them from deep black to charcoal.
Juliana laughed, “Don’t even look at me! These are old.” She pulled at the faded black fabric. The other girl giggled.
“I think you pull it off,” she said, smiling, nose scrunching. “Valentina.” She introduced herself, extending her hand.
Juliana looked down, quickly grasping the other girl’s hand. Her hand was soft and surprisingly warm under hers. A feeling like static electricity raced up her arm.
“Juliana,” Juliana said, introducing herself. Valentina squeezed her hand and she squeezed back.