Chapter Text
It was on Albus Dumbledore’s special instructions that Y/n Danner, an American witch, attend the prestigious British boarding school for exceptional young witches and wizards. When the browned envelope arrived containing her acceptance letter, clutched in the long, crooked beak of a small, tawny owl, it was met with confusion by both Y/n and her half-brother, Cole. Afterall, owls didn’t just fly into their kitchen everyday. American wizards scarcely used owls if they could help it. No, American wizarding post was far more sensible- they used the USPS, like any normal human being.
It was through the United States Postal Service that Y/n’s letter from the American boarding school for witches and wizards, Ilvermorny, was delivered just a little over a month ago. Y/n was hardly expecting an additional acceptance letter, especially one from a British boarding school halfway around the globe.
She saw the neat, emerald green writing on the envelope marked the letter as her’s and with small, trembling hands (at eleven, Y/n was deathly afraid of birds) she took the envelope from the beak of the owl. Quickly, she snatched her hands away with the letter, trying to prevent a nasty bite. The owl blinked at Y/n with great, big yellow eyes and flew straight out the kitchen window from which it came.
Y/n broke the wax seal and read the letter aloud:
Dear Ms. Y/n Audelia Danner,
We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance into the prestigious Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed, you will find a complete list of equipment and books required for the impending school year. Term begins the first of September. We await your owl no later than the 31st of July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Assistant Headmistress
Professor of Transfiguration
Y/n was about to question her parents about the strange letter, but didn’t get a chance, for another owl flew into the kitchen, dropping a letter in her mom’s eggs. Y/n almost had a heart attack, having had not one, but now two giant birds swoop in and out of her kitchen. Y/n’s mom opened her letter quickly.
Dear Mrs. Miranda Aurora Danner (nee Selwyn),
Remember your promise.
Albus Dumbledore
Y/n tried preening her neck over the large jug of orange juice, hoping to catch a glimpse of her mom’s letter. She had just made out the first word, but her mom crumpled the letter, muttered a spell, and set it alight in her hand, reducing it to ash and smoke.
“Miranda,” her dad said. “You knew Dumbledore wouldn’t forget.”
“I don’t care what Dumbledore wants, she’s going to Ilvermorny and that’s that,” said Miranda.
She reached for the jam and busied herself by spreading it evenly across her toast, avoiding her husband’s eyes. Y/n’s dad sighed.
“Can you two leave us for a moment?” he asked.
Y/n wanted to listen and opened her mouth to say just that, but Cole had grabbed her hand and led her from the kitchen.
“ C’mon,” Cole whispered. “ We can listen by the door.”
The two of them sat silently in the living room, pressing their heads to the door of their kitchen. They were nearly forehead to forehead and cramped together. She was trying to listen, but smelled a foul scent that viciously assaulted her nostrils. It was Cole’s morning breath.
“Ugghh, your breath smells awful, ” Y/n said, turning away from him and covering her nose with her hand.
“ Hey! ” he whispered. “ Keep it down. I swear, you’re lucky I’m even letting you listen.”
“ I’m the lucky one? You know, for the one without magic-”
“ Shhh,” he hissed, pressing his ear back to the door. Y/n rolled her eyes, but followed suit; although Cole was annoying, he did make a point and she didn’t want her parents to catch them eavesdropping.
“You went to Hogwarts yourself!” she heard her father say. “ You even said there was no better school out there. Why should we send our daughter to a second-rate school when Dumbledore clearly wants her?”
“When I moved away, I swore I would keep her from all that ‘blood purity’ nonsense and I’m going to make good on that.”
Before Y/n’s birth, her mom moved from her home in Oxford, England to the United States. When she arrived, she met Y/n’s dad, Logan. He was freshly divorced with his son, Cole and from all accounts, he was quite charming and rather handsome. And although he was a Muggle, they fell in love, marrying quickly. Y/n came along and their family was complete.
Long before her marrying Logan Danner, Y/n’s mom was Miranda Selwyn- a young witch from a British pureblood family. She was educated at Hogwarts, where she was promptly sorted into Slytherin. And this was all Y/n knew of her mom’s life before her dad. It was an unfinished tapestry she had to stitch from fragments of stories her mom had told her over the years. Her mom wasn’t necessarily very forthcoming about her childhood- she didn’t speak of friends or stories from her school or even about her parents. Although eleven-year-olds are anything but perceptive, Y/n managed to pick up on her mom’s secrecy and even at her young age, she recognized the strangeness of it.
“Are you going to be the one to tell Dumbledore ‘no?’” her dad asked, snapping Y/n back to the present.
“ I’m not going to tell Dumbledore anything. Y/n’s our daughter, not some pawn in whatever game he’s playing at.”
“But your promise-”
“A promise I made when I was nineteen and stupid.”
“Miranda-”
There was the sound of a bird’s wings flapping through the air and a soft coo.
“Bloody hell, not another owl,” Miranda swore.
Cole and Y/n heard her ripping paper, in what could only be her opening up another letter. There was silence and then a sharp breath taken by her mom.
“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” she groaned.
“What?”
“Take a look at this.”
Another moment passed in silence in which their father must’ve been reading the letter. When he was done, Y/n heard her father softly whisper a cuss word followed by the sound of metal chairs scraping the linoleum floor of their kitchen and footsteps approaching the living room. Frantically, Cole and Y/n tried to rush to the couch and pretend they weren’t listening, but they stood up too fast and Y/n tripped over Cole’s long legs. She tried to grab something to prevent her fall, but grabbed his shirt instead, pulling him down with her.
When her mom stepped into the living room, she saw her daughter and step-son in a jumbled heap at her feet, a tangle of limbs.
“ Ouch!” Cole said, rubbing his elbow where he hit it particularly hard on the floor.
“Oh, don’t be overdramatic,” said Y/n, pulling herself up. “It didn’t hurt that bad.”
“Only because I cushioned your fall!”
“That’s enough of that,” said Miranda in a stern voice. She obviously wasn’t in the mood to listen to petty childhood bickering after the morning she had. “I suppose you two heard everything- standing outside the door like that.”
“Only a little bit,” said Y/n in a small, hesitant voice.
“A little?”
“Okay, we totally heard everything,” Cole fessed up. “But only because you and dad were acting weird.”
Miranda sighed and pinched the bridge of her small, delicate nose. Y/n was expecting a fierce scolding for getting caught but she was thoroughly surprised when instead, her mom walked back into the kitchen, sat down in her usual spot next to her husband, and began to eat her toast. After taking a few bites, she looked to her children, standing bewildered in the doorway and asked:
“Are you two not going to join us?”
Y/n and Cole awkwardly shuffled in, taking their place at the breakfast table.
“So, Y/n,” her dad said. “There’s been a slight change of plans-”
“I'm not going to Ilvermorny anymore am I?” she interrupted.
“No,” said Miranda matter-of-factly in between bites of toast.
“Why?”
“I suppose I should explain a couple of things to you,” she said. She stopped her eating and placed her fork back on her plate. She swallowed her last bite and continued on,“You see, when I was your age, my parents- your grandparents- were less than accepting of anyone who didn’t share their worldview. My parents were nasty people who cared more about this idea of ‘blood-purity’ than they did their own daughter. Many families at Hogwarts feel the same and so, I thought by you attending Ilvermorny you wouldn’t have to deal with all that pureblood nonsense.”
“‘Pureblood nonsense?’” questioned Y/n.
To any other British wizarding family, it would’ve seemed strange for a witch not to know about blood-purity and blood-status, in British wizarding families it is an integral part to who they are.
Wizards in Britain are divided into three groups: pureblood, half-blood, or Muggleborn. Or, if you’re a Selwyn- like Y/n’s mom- there’s: royalty, half-breed, or Mudblood. But, Y/n is American and not British; to understand her confusion, you must first understand her culture.
America, founded on their belief in the unalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, never did quite take with the idea of blood-status and the superiority of purebloods. American Muggles sadly don’t experience the same amount of equality as their magical counterparts, but hey, at least America did something right.
“Blimey, I suppose I’m not very good at explaining this,” Miranda muttered to her husband. He put his hand in her’s to reassure her. She turned her attention back to her daughter. “Okay, so you understand how I am a witch, but your father is a Muggle, correct?”
Y/n nodded. That’s a rather obvious question, she thought.
“Well, in England this would be a much bigger deal than it is here. Do you remember me telling you how some witches and wizards can have two parents that are Muggles?”
Y/n nodded again.
“There are some families who look down on witches and wizards with Muggles in their family- mine included. They think that wizarding blood needs to be kept ‘pure,’ free of any Muggle blood. The whole idea is ridiculous, of course, every wizard’s family tree has at least one Muggle; we’d’ve died off eons ago if we didn’t intermingle.”
“ Intermingle? ” her dad laughed. “Is that what we’re calling this?”
“Oh, come off it- I didn’t mean it like that, Logan.”
“So, your parents, they’re purebloods?” asked Y/n.
Her mom laughed. It was a rather dry and hollow sound.
“About as pure as any wizarding family can get.”
“Wait,” said Cole, who was uncharacteristically quiet during the length of their conversation. “We’re getting rid of Y/n for a whole year and shipping her off to England?”
“I-I wouldn’t put it like that,” said Logan.
Y/n’s heart dropped. She hadn’t thought about the distance between her and her family- between her and her home. She would be shipped off to the rainy and dreary England, far from all that she knew and immersed in a completely new culture. She had to admit that the idea was not at all appealing and far too daunting for an eleven-year-old girl.
“M-mom, what if I don’t want to go to Hogwarts?’” said Y/n in a timid voice that didn’t quite sound like her own. “I want to go to Ilvermorny- that was supposed to be the plan.”
“It was, but plans have changed, Y/n. If it were up to me you’d go to Ilvermorny, but apparently Dumbledore has other plans…” said Miranda.
This name, “Dumbledore,” was completely foreign to Y/n, but it felt comfortable on her tongue- like maybe she’d spoken it or read it somewhere before. There isn’t a young witch or wizard in the world who hasn’t heard Dumbledore’s name (except Muggleborns, of course). But, you see, this is yet another peculiarity of Y/n’s- she was practically raised as a Muggleborn, herself. Her dad was about as ordinary as could be and her mom seemed more than happy to fit in with him. She didn’t seem to use magic very often and only kept a few spellbooks around to collect dust. The only other wizarding family Y/n knew were the Proctors.
The Proctors were an old, American wizarding family and could trace their lineage back to the Mayflower. This was a fact they must’ve been very proud of because they never would shut up about it- but that’s besides the point. Miranda thought it would be good to try to immerse her daughter into “wizarding culture” a bit more so her transition to Ilvermorny would go a bit smoother. The Proctors had a daughter around Y/n’s age- her name was Gertrude, which if you asked Y/n, she would tell you that was a particularly nasty name, especially for a young girl.
Gertrude Proctor’s name wasn’t her only setback in life, for she also had an absolutely horrendous personality. She was rude, demanding, and very spoiled as her parent’s only child. When Y/n was forced to interact with her, she would always make little snide comments about Y/n’s appearance, her clothes, and her family.
Now, here is the thing about Y/n, she has no self-control and is absolutely incapable of biting her tongue- it’s her hamartia, her fatal flaw. Somehow, however, during their first couple of visits, she managed to keep quiet. Sure, she might sneak in a snide remark or two during the conversation, but she was generally well-behaved. It wasn’t until Gertrude made some dig about Y/n’s teeth that finally set her off.
Picture this, they were sitting on the floor of Gertrude’s bedroom. The Proctors had one of those white, crusty dogs you always see with rich families. You know the dogs I’m talking about- they always have that weird stuff drooping out of their eyes and gaps in their yellowed teeth, their breath smells awful and they’re always growling and snarling at guests. Usually they’re named something like Bella or Baby.
Well, their crusty, ratty dog was in the lap of Gertrude when Gertrude thought it would be a brilliant idea to tell Y/n that she thought her teeth were a bit too big. If my memory serves me well, I believe that she called Y/n, “Bucky.”
Y/n was generally pleasant looking, with deep blue eyes and soft brown, curly hair, but like her inability to keep her mouth shut- her teeth were another one of her hamartias, just a physical one. She was very self-conscious about her teeth at that age. At eleven, she still hadn’t grown into them and even though there was a slight truth to what Gertrude said, it still hurt. So, Y/n did what any other rational young witch would do- she got so angry that the Proctor’s crusty dog blew up like a balloon and floated straight out the window and down the street.
Y/n and Cole thought this was absolutely hysterical, but the Proctors and Miranda didn’t think the same. It took an hour for them to reel the dog back in and then another hour to fix it. Needless to say that Y/n and her family were barred from the Proctor’s house and that was the end of her first and only relationship with a magical kid her age.
I say all that to say, that when it comes to magic and wizarding culture, Y/n is absolutely and utterly clueless.
“Why can’t you just tell this Dumbledore that I don’t want to go?” Y/n pleaded.
“I’m afraid that’s not an option, either, he wrote to Ilvermorny and now their Board is refusing to let you attend school there. Hogwarts is your only option. Now, I think that’s enough of this conversation,” she said with a sense of finality. “Let’s take a look at your schoolist and see what we need to pick up in Diagon Alley before term.”