Chapter Text
The air shimmered over Agrabah's sun-baked streets as the royal procession marched towards the palace, returning from its visit to a neighboring kingdom. High banners, ablaze with flashy colors, rippled above lines of soldiers in matching attires. They broke formations from every now and then, keeping the curious crowd in check.
Aladdin leaned on the cornice of his makeshift home, his gaze fixed on the lead palanquin. He couldn’t see much from the distance, but he caught a glimpse or two at the princess’ youthful face from under the shadows of the canopy.
"Interested in the royal family, I see," Genie chimed, materializing beside him, his eyes morphing into elongated blue binoculars. "Or, on a particular someone."
Abu, always nearby, hopped onto the cornice and clambered up Aladdin's arm, settling on his shoulder. He watched the procession, then turned to Aladdin with a twitch of his nose, a puzzled expression on his small face.
"What would it be like to grow up like that? Having everything?" Aladdin's voice was barely a whisper against the distant cheers.
He thought of his eleven years, each day a struggle for survival in the unforgiving streets. He didn't begrudge the Sultan his luck; he seemed nice, and some were simply born into fortune. But then, Aladdin didn't see himself as a bad person either, and Fate had barely tossed him crumbs. Meanwhile he’d witnessed some of the vile rich stumble through life, untouched by hardship. Kindness, he had learned, was clearly not how fortune chose its favorites.
"Do I sense a wish coming?" Genie asked, a knowing twinkle in his magnified blue eyes.
Aladdin pulled away from the cornice. “Can you do that? Make one of them?” he asked, gesturing to the royal procession.
A carpet flew to stand at his side, as if turning expectantly in the Geni’s direction. The day before Aladdin had escaped the Cave of Wonders with that flying carpet and a magic lamp, and he still had to decide how to use his three wishes.
“Piece of cake, just say the words,” Genie said. His eyes returned to normal and his form morphed to an exaggerated ermine garment with a crown, “Would you like traditional royalty?” he asked, before his shape changed again into a blue balding man in a black suit. He started throwing booklets with pictures away. “Or the Windsor-tabloid version?
Aladdin shocked his head, befuddled. “I just…” he sighed, turning back to the streets, where the procession had finally arrived at the palace’s doors. “I don’t want anything strange. Can you do that? Make one of them? Would I hang out in the palace? Befriend… the princess?”
Being rich was one of the first ideas that had come to Aladdin when he realized about the lamp, but he didn’t want to be rejected there either. Also, there were other wishes he could ask for. Like he could ask for nipples. He didn’t have those—it was a condition. It’d never bothered him, but wishing for some would make other kids stop making fun of him.
Genie scratched his chin. “Well, technically I could put you in the palace. But the princess may not be around to do much socializing.”
The news made Aladdin’s eyes widen. “She’s going away?”
“From what I could tell, the princess is most likely your age, and a witch so—”
“A what?!”
“Oh, boy, how do I…?” Genie mused. He transformed into an old lady with a black cloak, offering Aladding an apple. “Not in the proper sense, my boy…” he croaked, then turned back into his usual blue self. “The Shafiqs are the royal family. There’s magic blood in them. And, if the princess is magical as well, she’ll go to Hogwarts.”
Aladdin exchanged a look with Abu before turning back to the Genie, “Hogwarts?”
“A magical school in a far away land,” the Genie said, pulling Aladdin from the shoulder as he turned into an explorer and pointed at the horizon. Aladdin frowned but he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be looking at something. The Genie turned back. “Magic kids from all over the world go to Hogwarts. It’s quite prestigious, you know. Magic parents show off their kids Hogwarts degree to other parents… It’s a big deal, Al.”
The Genie slid a toga and square hat on a startled Aladdin, then gave him a diploma as he shook his hand. Flashes came from somewhere in the back. Genie pulled away and transformed into a crying lady on a chair, “He’s so grown up now!”
Genie returned to normal, leaving Aladdin dizzy. He was getting used to the Genie’s antics, but it was still overwhelming.
“So you say this school is full with kids my age?” he asked when a thought came to him.
“Special kids. You cannot go there if you aren’t magic.”
“But… You could make me magic…” Aladdin pointed out with a grin.
Genie’s eyes widened. “Oh, I see where this is going…”
“And would I still be… “ Aladdin looked down at his clothes. struggled to say the word poor, but thankfully the Genie understood.
“I cannot make you magical AND rich, Al. Not with a single wish. BUT…” The Genie pulled a long scroll and glasses. “It says here that the Hogwarts wish package does include basic supply and subsistence perks. Also, dental insurance and a 10% off on Ollivander’s—Only select wand models. Restrictions apply.”
Aladdin took a deep breath. His smile was wide. He’d always wanted to be special, and not having to worry about food while in a magical school didn’t sound half bad.
“Oh, yes! We’re doing this!” Genie said, pulling back his blue arms as if they were sleeves.
“Genie!!”
“Yes, kid?”
“I wish to be magical so I can attend Hogwarts.”
There were sparks as the Genie clapped his hands together. Aladdin winced, letting a few seconds pass. He looked at his hands, but he didn’t feel any different.
When he turned to the Genie, Aladdin saw him pull his hands apart. There was a small yellowish parchment there with a weird seal. It read:
Mr A. Rimal
The Tent Over the Roof
Souk Street without number.
Agrabah
Ella picked up the broken glass without so much as a word. She’d learned, long ago, that her step-mother wouldn’t take it lightly, and that she would still need to clean up the mess Drizella and Anastasia had made.
At eleven, Ella had learned to take care of most of the house’s chores, from cleaning everyone’s clothes to cooking the bacon on her step-sisters’ breakfasts.
It was emotionally and physically taxing for sure, not to mention how unfair it was to have little to no help. That being said, Ella had always found small pleasures in a job well done, and her father had always taught her to tackle every hardship with a positive attitude.
Not like she could hear his encouraging words any more.
Ella tried to reign over the knot in her throat. She knew that, if she surrendered to it, the tears would soon come. She would rather keep herself occupied to avoid meddling in wishful thinking and things that could not be.
She had to be content with the family she had left.
“Cinderella, have you brought the mail this morning?”
“No, sorry. I’ll go get it,” Ella told her mother, who sighed exasperated and made a hand gesture, so she could hurry up with it already.
Ella walked out of the house, trying to not give her step-mother any reasons to be displeased. Ella’s father had chosen the cold woman for a wife, so Ella had to imagine some good must be to her. So far though, the girl had seen little of it. The woman seemed to be bothered by anything Ella did, and blamed her whenever weird or unexplained incidents happened around her—like that time Drizella’s dress covered in ashes after she’d said something particularly mean to Ella.
“Cinderella did it! Cinderella did it!” Drizella had yelled, and Ella had earned herself a week of extra work for something she didn’t do.
At any rate, there weren’t many letters this morning in the mailbox. Ella noticed a message from one of her step-mother’s friends from out of town, and a notice from the kingdom’s government. Ella wondered if it was a tax collection notice, or something related to Prince Christopher’s farewell ball. He was soon to go to that distant school no one knew about, and as expected, there were festivities held in his honor. Ella’s step-mother had pursued an invitation to those prestigious parties for some time.
Ella didn’t pry. It wasn’t proper. She stacked the envelopes together and strode back to the house, but at the front door, a piece of mail caught her attention. She couldn’t help but gasp. It had her name on it. No one ever wrote to her.
She wondered if it was a mistake, but there was none. The envelope had weird crest, but clearly stated the recipient, and even where her bedroom was located:
Miss E. Tremaine
Old Attic
Rue du Moulin 4
Kingdom of Occitanie
Unfortunately, her step-mother noticed, and took the letter away from Ella. The woman’s eyes widened in shock and sent Ella away to the attic without so much as an explanation.
Her letter was burnt without Ella finding out what it said. She would’ve gladly worked extra chores for weeks for only a glimpse at that parchment. The mystery of it consumed her as cried herself to sleep that night.
The next few weeks were chaotic. As Ella wasn’t allowed out of the attic and couldn’t perform many of her usual chores, her step-sisters' complaints echoed across the house because the chores were now being given to them.
Ella was still assigned whatever she could do in her attic—like sewing and mending. She spent most of her time chatting with the birds and mice that visited, and who were her only friends. From the window, Ella once saw her step-mother arguing with the mailman, who was shoved away with a bag of letters which all looked suspiciously like Ella’s lost letter.
One day, owls visited her. They seemed to be coming with letters themselves, but before Ella could so much as pick one, her step-mother had come in and shove them away. Ella’s window was boarded up that day.
The last week of August, the house woke up to an unexpected noise and banging of doors. Ella awaited in her attic with an ear by the door, trying to understand the voices downstairs. When she heard the creaking of the stairs, she pulled away to the farthest side of the room.
The door opened with a bang, to reveal a dark-skinned woman on a light blue cloak that was tied up by a purple bow. The moment the woman saw Ella, she smiled warmly. She was holding a weird stick in her hands.
“I forbid you! She’s not allowed—” Ella’s step mother came in behind, shouting at the woman.
The dark-skinned woman frowned. “This, I’m pleased to inform you, you cannot forbid,” she said. “Ella’s mother left explicit instructions for her daughter. The girl’s place at Hogwarts has been saved for years.”
“Hogwarts?”
“I said she wasn’t going!” Ella’s step-mother yelled, her face deep red.
“Nothing you can do about it,” the woman replied with a level of amusement, then turned back to Ella and her expression softened. “Hogwarts is a magical
Ella looked properly stunned still. “I don’t get it.”
“You are a witch, Ella.”
Witch?
“Excuse me?” Ella asked. Surely she hadn’t heard right.
“You are magical, my dear,” the dark-skinned woman elaborated. “And you are to attend the finest school of magic there is.”
Magic? Leaving? Was this some sort of dream now?
“I…”
The woman gave her a sympathetic expression. “It’s understandable you have so many doubts. Especially since you have been denied information about your heritage. But you are magical Ella Tremaine. Have weird things ever happened around you? Things you can explain?” she asked.
Ella stared, open-mouthed. It just couldn’t be.
“I thought so,” the woman said. “That said, we don’t have much time. The term starts in September first.”
“I’m going away from here?”
Ella’s step-mother shouted. “She’s not!”
The dark-skinned frowned, but ignored the yell, addressing Ella instead. “You may be back next summer, while school’s on break… If there’s no other alternative.”
Was this some sort of dream? Ella had forced herself to never complain about her situation, because there was just no other place for her. The best she’d hoped for was that her step-mother would marry her to a farmer when she was older, and that he turned out to be kind-hearted.
“Who are you? My fairy godmother?”
The woman seemed amused. “My name is Asha, but you will be calling me Professor Lucero. I’ll be teaching you Charms,” she said, then picked an envelope from her robes and handed it to Ella. It was her letter. “Now, we have school supplies to fetch. If you’re willing…”
Ella saw the hard look from her step-mother, who was silently shaking her head. She almost did as the woman expected. However, Ella ended up smiling at Professor Lucero and her trembling fingers touched the letter.
“Alright,” she said.
The trombones were ready. The Maldonian pear pies were being baked. Once the bells tolled that day on the main tower, Naveen would officially be eleven. The age he’d awaited since forever.
The young prince jumped out of bed, bounding across the vast floor of his bedroom, a room so large it could host a band along with a small stage. His voice echoed off the high ceilings as he dashed to the side. He flung open the velvety fabric of his curtains, and swung open the fine doors of his balcony.
“It’s my birthday!” he yelled out of his lungs.
The sound of his own excitement spread to the patios underneath. Servants down below turned their heads, and some even responded with courtesy nods, but Naveen pictured they must've rejoiced about the momentous occasion, as he was. He didn’t feel much more magical this morning than he’d felt the night before, but that didn’t matter. The important thing is that he would be eleven today, and in a matter of days he would be attending Hogwarts.
Oh, the crazy fun one must have there… If at least half of Uncle Kiran’s tales were true…
Naveen belonged to the Cadenza royal family, a prestigious pureblood line which had gone to Hogwarts for centuries. The prince couldn’t wait to see what they all had seen before him, and experience what they had experienced. He wanted to see it all, and witness the best magic had to offer.
Needless to say, the young prince found it hard to concentrate for the rest of the day. Lawrence—his personal attendant—followed Naveen’s parents instructions and took the boy to all of his early lessons—lest a Cadenza arrive at Hogwarts behind in his basic studies. But Naveen found it easy to sneak away from the fidgety servant.
“Are you sure your parents will be here?” one of the other noble kids asked Naveen as they inspected the decorations.
“They promised.”
“Haven’t they promised before?”
“They will be here, trust me,” Naveen answered with a smile, sounding more confident than he felt. “They’ll take me… on a short trip.”
The other kids didn’t know that he was a wizard, so Naveen couldn’t tell them that his parents had promised to take him to Diagon Alley themselves. But it would be great. The best shopping trip ever.
As the day progressed, however, and the guests started to arrive with no trace of the king or the queen, Naveen got worried. He naively held hope that they would show up until the very last second. But once he was properly dressed, and outside the entrance doors, a servant brought him the message.
They wouldn’t be coming. An important state affair abroad, as always. They were deeply sorry, as always. Naveen should take Lawrence on his trip to Diagon Alley.
Splendid. Just splendid.
Naveen forced a smile and entered the ample room where the celebrations were being held. He stuck to protocol, but also remained uncomfortable, with his chin resting on his hand more than usual. The vibrant music sounded as distant as the walls, and the laughter of the celebration foreign.
“Their heart is in the right place. You know how it is,” Uncle Kieran came by, apologizing for Naveen’s parents. It wasn’t the first time.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“I am sure your mother isn’t happy right now. It must have been difficult to stay away.”
Naveen shrugged.
Uncle Kieran shifted in his chair, gesturing for a waiter to bring more of the fancy hors d'oeuvres that Naveen had been pointedly ignoring. He didn't rush his nephew, instead taking in the scene with a wry expression. The room was a sea of Maldonian finery, with a jazz band playing in the corner, but the air felt thin and empty around their small table. The chatter and laughter of the partygoers felt miles away. Only the soft, clinking sound of glasses and silverware filled the space between them."
Eventually, Naveen spoke. “I just wished it hadn’t happened. Just this time.”
“I’m with you, Naveen. It was an important one. That better had been a hell of a state emergency,” his uncle said. “They’ll need to make it up to you. Big time.”
“I’ll think of something,” Naveen replied with a smile.
Naveen wasn't even angry anymore, just resigned to the familiar ache of disappointment.
Uncle Kieran patted his back. “In the meantime… It would be such a shame to waste this lovely party, don’t you think?”
The man stood up, and offered his hand.
“I don’t know, Uncle Kieran.”
His uncle didn’t give up, and pulled out his ukulele. Naveen loved the ukulele since the day his uncle had taught him how to play. It just brought joy with every note.
“It’s not proper of a prince to play with the band as a commoner,” Prince Naveen said with a grin.
“It is not,” his uncle agreed. “But if you can get away with it any day, I bet that day is today.”
“Lead the way,” Naveen said.
At first their presence among the band stunned the guests, but Naveen soon forgot about pressures and disappointments among the warm notes of his ukulele. He stayed awake well past his bed time. If it was his party, he should at least enjoy it. Otherwise, what was the point?
Once everyone had left, and the servants started picking up the remnants of the celebration, Naveen found himself alone with Uncle Kieran.
“Can’t you come to Diagon Alley with me?”
“I would if I could, Naveen,” he said. “But with your parents away, you can only imagine what my schedule looks like.”
“You still made time to be here.”
“It was easier to postpone a thing or two for such a momentous occasion when one is home. Don’t be so harsh on your parents. You know how it is.”
Naveen nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”
They kept walking until they arrived at the door of Naveen’s bedroom.
“By the way, they asked me to give you this,” his uncle said, handing him an envelope. “It arrived days ago, but they wanted to give it to you today.”
Naveen picked it up. It was his Hogwarts letter. He knew the crest by heart, and the name on the back brought a warm feeling to his heart, even if Naveen had known he was a wizard for ages.
Mr N. Cadenza
Largest Room In the East Wing
Maldonia Royal Palace
Maldonia
Naveen was glad his uncle didn’t say anything about his emotional state. He still hugged the man tightly before heading for bed. “Thanks, uncle.”
And after that he left, preparing himself for the new life that awaited him.
It was going to be a splendid day. Rapunzel had her colors ready and a brand new, clear wall she was determined to turn into a mural. The only question, of course, was what to paint.
Rapunzel didn’t know much of the world. In her short life, she’d only been inside her tower, so her paintings were usually limited to whatever green hills she could glimpse from her window. And she had a few of those already.
Mother always said that the world was dangerous, and Rapunzel was grateful for her protection. Still, she had a deep urge to see the world by herself, and discover just how large it could be. At nights, she fantasized about leaving her tower and seeing all those wonderful places.
If she were to leave, she knew which direction she’d go first. The one where the lanterns came.
Rapunzel sighed. Her birthday had passed over a month ago. On the same day the lanterns illuminated the sky. As every birthday, Rapunzel had leaned over her window and seen them soar, coming up with a dozen fantastical reasons why those lanterns appeared precisely on her birthday.
With swift steps, Rapunzel moved back to her wall. It wasn’t going to paint itself, and it was better to start her day already. She looped her long hair around a beam and started swinging back and forth while the ideas came to her. At eleven, Rapunzel’s hair was twice as long as she was, just long enough to start practicing some games with it. And with as little as there was to do in her tower, she was getting good practice.
She was quickly distracted by a shadow descending on her window. Rapunzel gasped and hurried there, where Pascal—her loyal chameleon—was hiding from the owl. He was exaggerating, of course; the owl didn’t seem to even mind Pascal’s presence. Instead, the bird just left a parchment and took off.
“Oh, what could this be?”
Mother had taught her how to read, if only so she could distract herself with the few books the woman brought from her travels. Rapunzel was quickly drawn to the weird crest on the seal and the letters on the back of the envelope.
Miss R. Corona
Room Atop the Tower
Tower in the West Forest
Kingdom of Corona
She was curious. Was the letter addressed to her? It was beyond weird. No one ever wrote to the tower, much less to her. The recipient seemed to be quite clear, even if she didn’t know her last name to be Corona. She never had any last name.
That was another thing. Rapunzel knew the name of the kingdom, but why would she be named after it? It made no sense.
For the whole day, Rapunzel kept going over it again and again. She wished Mother would be back so she could help her understand, but Rapunzel knew the woman wouldn’t be back for days. And curiosity was killing her.
By noon, the mystery had grown too big, and she decided to open the letter. That didn't make things any easier. A magic school? And Rapunzel… a witch? It surely had to be some sort of prank.
Even so, as she paced back and forth and fidgeted with her long braids, a powerful snap echoed from below, and the bolt of the trap door in the floor suddenly blasted open. For a moment, Rapunzel didn’t care that the door had flung open as if by magic. All that she cared about was that the door was open. It was open!
She stared at it for ages, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and exhilaration. She knew she couldn’t betray her mother’s trust, and yet, the mere possibility of freedom was a torture.
Maybe Mother won’t notice if I go out and come back real quickly?
The temptation took a full hour to overcome. Rapunzel picked up Pascal, a small satchel with a snack, and her letter. She also grabbed a frying pan for defense. Then, she headed for the trap door. After the longest breath ever, her trembling hand opened the door. For the first time, Rapunzel left her tower.
Life outside was exhilarating. At times she was beside herself, hopping along the meadows. At other moments, deep regret threatened to consume her.
It wasn’t long before she found a small building and heard a loud noise inside. The sign outside read The Snuggly Duckling . Without conscious thought, Rapunzel headed to the door and knocked. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm as steps approached. Suddenly, she realized she knew no other human being besides her mother. Until now.
Gruff-looking men filled the dark room. The air was thick with a strange scent, one Rapunzel had never experienced.
“Oh, h-hello…?” she greeted.
Did these men speak?
The leader, a balding man with a hook for a hand, stepped forward. “Well, well, well… What do we have here…? What’s a little girl like you doing in a place like this?”
“I am Rapunzel,” she said. “Rapunzel Corona.”
She didn’t know why she’d said that. She wasn’t even sure if the last name was real. As far as she knew, the whole magic school could be a trick.
“Corona she said?” a voice in the back asked.
“Like… The King?”
The balding man’s eyes narrowed, giving Rapunzel an appraising glance. “Could it be… The missing Princess?”
Rapunzel’s eyebrows shot upwards. The missing what now?