Chapter Text
It was great that History was accurate back in school.
This was because Mrs. Crocombe, a descendant of a Victorian Chef by the same name took British History seriously, even down to economics.
How was she supposed to know that when she chose death after defeating Voldemort at 17 as she had nothing to stay for, she was immediately reincarnated in said era?
She was born in a seaside town in Whitby, to just a mother. No father to speak of, so she had no surname. Her mother named her Emma when she was once Nasrin Potter. So she mentally took back her surname.
She was poor, and no magic. She was reborn a muggle and a beautiful one at that and a very healthy child this time around. It seems magic got converted to health because in Victorian Times, health care is utter garbage. Her eyesight is very clear now. Perfect.
And she understood what her new mum's job was.
Unfortunate.
She was a Prostitute working for a brothel. But a lovely one that she can afford to charge her rates. She was saving up for retirement because she was unskilled that her beauty was all she had. And Unskilled Laborers are often exploited for shoddy pay.
She had a wealthy customer...until she got pregnant, that is. That she made her earnings count to survive pregnancy. And she lost her beauty that she really stretched out her savings for five years. She managed to save up two hundred pounds which is a huge deal in those days.
And her history teacher saved her this time around, upon knowing prices of goods back then, and money math.
1 pound, is 240 pennies.
And countryside food is a lot safer than city food due to cities committing Food Adulteration just to bulk up products for sale, that this notoriously happens to Flour.
Countryside folk gets literal wholegrain pure wheat breads. The so-called 'ugly brown bread' was in fact, safer to eat. Usually costs halfpennies a whole sliced loaf.
But she and her mother are fine on halfpenny diets to stretch out her savings. Her mother explained money values to her when she was five, and that was when she was wasting away from illness as a result of her past jobs. She continued after birthing Emma which was fatal as she must've scored a 'sick guy' at some point.
But that money would not last long in Victorian England, when Emma calculated what her mother spends on.
A shilling for a week's stay in their home.
A farthing can buy you a single onion or a turnip.
Two pennies of paper-twist salt to last them a week.
A ha'penny for a pot's worth of gruel, another ha'penny for a bunch of carrots, cabbage is also ha'penny. Broad or Haricot Beans are also worth that for half kilogram.
If oats is not available when stocks dried up, it's a penny's worth of 500 grams of broken rice, or a large bag of split-peas. A penny can also buy you a kilogram and half of potatoes.
For twopence, it's a large mixed sack of root vegetables at a Saturday Night Clearance, exploited by the smarter people-particularly herself when she knew history and gave the idea to her mother. They weren't good-looking, but it fills the stomach. A sixpence gets you a tub of cheap lard, 7kg sack of oats, as well as 20 pounds of potatoes.
Coal to stay warm and for cooking, was 1 shilling and thruppence by the hundredweight. This was their most expensive expense every week, other than buying patchwork rags, especially as people began to get scared of her 'living dead' mother who was wasting away from Syphilis that Emma became errand girl as she was now too embarrassed to go out.
But winter did her in. Her disease got so bad. She was frail enough she didn't survive northern winters.
In Whitby, 200 pounds makes two people feel 'rich'. By careful calculations of basic survival, they spent a total of over 32 pounds, and she has a huge inheritance.
'Emma dear, I know I'm going soon...you have a huge inheritance by standards,' said her mother. 'I had a long talk with my sister and her husband.'
'Oh hell no mum. I know where this is going.' Emma frowned. 'Do you still have our money?'
'Yes. I haven't given it yet. They would only get it when I die on conditions I made. If I died, they will raise you well with it.'
'...you read too many romance novels mum. I will never see that money used for my sake.' Emma deadpanned. She had enough of living with relatives, thank you.
So Emma hid their fortune in a place only she knows and prepared a 'getaway satchel' containing just two changes of clothes and the rest of the money and sure enough, the 'sweet aunt' started coming when she never bothered the entire second life of Nasrin Potter.
Emma made sure to budget carefully until her mother died one morning when she no longer woke up, and her aunt sleeping downstairs still.
Emma quickly made off with the getaway bag, making her way to England in heinously costly trips. She took a train ride south and had to change trains, and being careful while also pickpocketing on the side off the rich in crowded trains. She had no sympathy whatsoever and she's on her own now.
With her mediocre skills by modern standards, these guys are just too careless to her benefit and a single train stop helped her regain her mother's lost fortune in the five years they lived together. She also drank water, bought herself food, and bought another ticket and continued this way to London wherein by then, nobody will ever suspect someone like her, to be 'wealthy'.
But instead of London, she got off at Middlesex for farm jobs as she knows what crappy jobs she'll get there.
But girls are seasonal farm laborers when it's harvest time, earning a thruppence for delicate harvesting jobs, only earning more the older they get. And she rents a small room, a shilling a week.
She is healthier in the farms with access to pasteurized fresh milk and real food, while in London, food is mostly, adulterated garbage not good for growing kids. On harvest days, they get the advantage of being given fruits, even if they're the 'ugliest ones'. When not in season farming, she works in textile factories, dressed like a boy as wearing a dress back there is a death trap. Her hair also shaved bald for convenience much to horror of her peers when she came the next day bald.
'Why'd you do that?!'
'Getting my hair caught in the looms is a death wish! I'll regrow it back when I'm ten years old, too big for those jobs. Would our bosses pay for our hospital fees?'
'Uh...' the girls unwilling to go as far as she did, wore their hair in tight braids tucked under their clothes instead.
By ten wherein by then she had her hair back, she worked in a clothing factory that she learned how to sew and embroider just by watching. That she began sewing her own 'period pads' when she got it, using scraps of leather and fabric. And she owned thirty for wash and wear to prepare for the inevitable, and sewed her own things. Her bras are padded with layers of cotton fabric that can be buttoned at the front. This was because she didn't want to wear a corset until she absolutely had to. She wants to breathe freely, OK?
Determination and the desire to own nice things made her focus into making quality work because SHE would use it.
And she exploits train stations for pickpocketing off the rich during 'the season'.
By the time she was thirteen, she's healthy and lovely. "I wonder if mum who's already pretty enough, slept with a guy from a wealthy family with looks if I look like this." she wondered as she looked at herself in the mirror. With access to healthy farm things. Oatmeal Porridges, Bean stews, Vegetables, Fruits, Milk, and Marrow Bones for broth and delicious marrows to eat.
Upon saving up, she applied as Pupil-Teacher. Under a system introduced in 1846, bright girls as young as 13 could be apprenticed in elementary schools. They taught younger children during the day and received advanced tutoring from the headmistress in the evenings. It nets her 8 shillings a week when she showed 'how smart she was' during Qualifications.
But it takes a certain mentality to teach brats. She chose to teach Math, upon gaining knowledge on how much things costs. Rent, Food, Hygiene, Sources of Light and Warmth, Medical Needs. This was after teaching the four basics, measurements and Money Math. She calls this 'Budget Math'.
The mistress monitoring her raised eyebrows when she gave additional lessons at the end of Money Math.
But let her proceed anyway. But she gained a healthy respect for her when she taught the price of goods from farthing up to a shilling. She made her class take notes as it will be their Life's Guidepost in budgeting their parents' salaries and what they can buy and eat with it. Bread wasn't even on the list.
'Bread is too expensive by standards in the long run when costs add up, its not even filling if you're in a shillings budget told by dad to your mom to make a miracle-week out of it, that oatmeals and bean stews are more practical as well as potatoes. Cheaper, but you sleep with full stomachs every day and you're healthier for it. With these price listings, maybe your parents would be more...understanding, realistic and sensible with weekly money allocations.'
She even taught Porridge and Stew Recipes for the cheap, and the price for a single person, so just add more servings per person in a pot then!
Sure enough in a year, the schoolmistress noted Emma's students got healthier and fleshier. Decent clothing is still a long way off though, sadly.
And she lives in a decent, but tiny cottage she lives in for three shillings a week, with her 20 pounds per annum salary, much of which, is in her house in a place only she knows where thieves would never think to look in.
She lives well and all happier for it. 144 shillings a year for her house(7 pounds and 4 shillings) rent, she can make use of her remaining annual salary for modest comfort. The rest goes to savings incase she gets hospitalized.
The true culmination of a pupil-teacher's coming-of-age was the Queen's Scholarship examination, taken at the end of her fifth year(around age 18). The goal was to secure a scholarship for College, to be a tru-blu Schoolmistress. A salary of 70-85 pounds per year. She had to study hard in her French as a result.
...hard work paid off. And working hard for her own sake, was so fulfilling. When before she had unfair pressure on her due to expectations.
She now has to deal with a one-time entry fee of 10 or 12 pounds a year. But other expenses are still on her. Pay for at least, three changes of her uniform and boots, textbooks, stationery, needlework materials and tools, and pay for Laundry Service.
Upon graduating at age 20, she can choose to become a full-time teacher at the highest paid place a woman can teach in! Niiiice!
Graduation was celebrated. While girls were taken home by their families, orphans went home alone to celebrate their own way.
"I lived three years longer than last time..." Emma was so giddy she was flustered. "Would I live long enough to old age? Would I enjoy living this time around? Living for myself, and not being tugged here and there simply because you're the girl-who-lived-this-is-what-you-should-do, so I say fuck you and I'm happier here. Freedom never felt so good!"
She had friends again and this time she doesn't have to worry for their murders just for being associated with her. Their sole worry, was their futures. Their jobs. Their marriages, stuff like that.
She never felt so happy she chose death once, just to have her life now. The fact she can live for herself and find what makes her happy.
That's weird to hear when usually, people fear me. she heard a legion-ous voice. But, I understand. After all, I know eeeeverything about anyone who owned my Hallows. Live well, last descendant of Ignotus. This is the last time I speak to you.
'That's the last bit of magic I'll ever have I guess.' Emma thought wistfully. 'It wasn't easy getting this far, thanks to my old History Teacher.' she was grateful to Mrs. Tabitha Crocombe, the History Teacher in Surrey.
At home, she let loose her long brown hair, a bit wavy from hours of updo. And she whirled in her living room, her hair and uniform skirt floating as she spun.
Then she realized something.
Her house's pantry was empty for years.
"My pantry's empty and sky is still orange...I can buy enough for tomorrow's breakfast!"