Chapter 1: chapter 1:Again, but not again.
Notes:
*This chapter has been fixed with Grammarly to improve the reading experience
Chapter Text
Soul for a Soul.
She thought that was the end.
Natalia Romanova. Born in Stalingrad, Russia, sold by her mother to a Soviet intelligence agency. After the USSR’s collapse, she ended up getting in the Red Room.
So, this is the Red Room.
Cold cuffs pressed her wrists, and the sound of breathing in the darkness was both strange and familiar. No one noticed that, among the neatly arranged beds, the girl in one was still awake.
Purple lights and a flash of yellow lingered in her vision. Her eyes opened in the darkness, confusion flickered, then faded.
She drifted back to sleep.
Siberia’s winters were long and harsh; its summers, short but thick with mosquitoes.
“Good morning, girls,” their instructor called out, dressed in tight black workout clothes, holding a teaching stick behind her back. “Begin today’s sparring.”
At the command, the girls standing in even rows in the training hall turned to face each other and began to spar.
Year after year, day after day. The Widows grew up like this.
The Red Room was an enclosed world, guarded by concrete walls and crisscrossed with thick ventilator pipes.
Her opponent stood a head taller, making striking difficult. After several inconclusive rounds, she dodged low, hands pressed to the ground for leverage, then flipped up and locked her legs around her foe’s neck in a triangle chokehold. Surprised, her opponent struggled, but she shifted her grip and locked her knees around their calves until they lost consciousness.
“Good.”
Natasha released her foe at the order, quickly got up, stood at attention: hands behind her back, eyes down, waiting for the following command.
No words, no sound, no eye contact. Only answer an instructor if spoken to. Otherwise, silence, and never meet another’s eyes.
Decades later, she thought she’d be out of practice. But it turns out she still remember everything.
“You may rest.”
“Yes,” she replied, eyes down, stepping over her fallen opponent, weaving through sparring pairs, and collecting two hydration packs from the table. Each was made of unmarked soft plastic and held about two hundred milliliters. She bit open a pack, sipped the salty electrolyte water, held up both empties to the supervisor, and tossed them in the box before taking a brief rest against the wall.
There will be many more years of such days.
Her first mission outside was in 1992, undercover. After being recaptured in 1995, she was re-indoctrinated by the Red Room. What came before, she couldn’t recall—the brainwashing had been repeated too many times. All she vaguely remembered was early education, combat, and firearms. True professional skills only came after her second recapture and re-indoctrination.
“Monsieur, comment me trouvez-vous?” (Sir, how do you think of me?)
“先生，您觉得我怎么样？” (Sir, what do you think of me?)
The girls chanted the lines in sync in the bright, windowless classroom.
“Если вам хорошо, то я ваша.” (If you like me, I am yours.) Russian.
"Ich kann viele Dinge tun." (I can do many things.) German.
“I 'm lost, could you help me?” English.
There were no real guns or superpowers here. In this rigid routine, sometimes she felt as if she were in heaven.
“Number one,” the instructor called after the language class. The others left in order, leaving only her—Number 01.
“Your name.”
“Number 01.”
“Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Again, your name.”
A jolt of electricity buzzed from the electrodes on her scalp. She forced herself to say,“Natalia Alianovna Romanovna.”
“Who is your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“Melina Vostokov.” Light flickered and a familiar photograph appeared on the wall.
“Who is this woman?”
“My mother.”
“Who is your mother?”
“Melina Vostokov.”
…
//
Ohio has spring with changeable weather, and fall is comfortable and consistent.
Natalia rode her bike through her favorite woods. The forest’s edge met a lake so large she could barely see the far shore, which reached all the way to her backyard.
Autumn is her favorite time. Although winter’s chill didn’t bother her, nothing was sweeter than the sound of dry leaves and branches crunching under her tires.
She steered with precision, striking each selected dry branch—
“Crunch”
score.
Another “Crunch”
score.
Hitting thick branches earned a point each; piles of thinner twigs were worth three. Successive combos of branch piles earned five points from the second try onward; interruptions counted for three.
She had invented this game for herself and was about to reach her eleventh five-point streak.
“Cru—”
A faintly glowing, semi-transparent snake suddenly appeared atop her scoring target.
“What the—” She swerved, brakes screeching in protest.
The girl and the bike were toppled; her head hit an exposed tree root.
Natasha sat up, clutching her sore head. Memories surged backwards—from arriving in America after brainwashing, all the way to the vast purple of Vormir.
“***” [Russian curse]. Still, her instinctive language seems to be Russian.
Shaking free from the bike, Natasha glanced at her “target.”
The faint, blue-tinged snake still sat coiled among the shattered branches, unscathed. Head raised, it seemed to have something rolled in its mouth—a strip of animal hide? Natasha’s instincts took over; she froze, waiting for what came next.
Seeing no response, the pencil-thin snake crawled forward and, a foot away, spit out the rolled brown object. It tumbled to settle by her hand.
She stayed still, watching closely.
The snake met her eyes, waited a moment, then, perhaps realizing she didn’t understand, it slithered back, rose up, and vigorously nodded toward the hide.
Dusk was falling, making the snake’s glow stand out. The safehouse wasn’t far, and she could spot her backyard fence through the trees. Natasha snatched the hide, slipped behind the tree, and climbed up a branch.
The mysterious hide unrolled easily: its thin side glowed with deep green script adjusting to the dimming light for easy reading.
[To Miss/Mr Natalia Alianovna Romanova:
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As confirmed by the Gordian Knot statue, you possess exceptional magical talent and are invited to receive a formal education at our school.
(Please review the attached details and reply with your decision via your messenger by July 31.)
I. Term Begins: September 1 each year. Arrive at the foot of Mount Greylock, Massachusetts, by 5:00 PM, August 31. Transportation to the school will be provided after your attendance is confirmed.
II. Preparations: MACUSA strictly follows the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. Your wand will be purchased and used under the supervision of the school. Magic outside school is forbidden.
Prepare:
• Ilvermorny school robes
• Textbooks (see page two)
• Standard silver daggers, crystal vials, measuring spoons, etc. (see equipment list)
All items can be bought in Ilvermorny’s magical community. For No-Maj families, a staff member will help with your purchases.
III. House Sorting: At the Sorting Ceremony, the four houses are Horned Serpent (scholars), Wampus (warriors), Thunderbird (adventurers), and Pukwudgie (healers).
We await your owl or a reply through your parents.
Sincerely, William Williams, Acting Principal, Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry]
“What the fuck?” So, her subconscious swearing wasn't always Russian.
Chapter 2: chapter 2: Now or never
Summary:
On the way out
Notes:
lets do this
plz leave any comment you want
im really expecting anyone i could talk with
（and hopefully the deepseek translate worked well
Chapter Text
Natalia—
Yelena's voice came through faintly, tinged with the unmistakable hint of tears.
"I'm here, I'm coming to get you," Natalia said, rolling up the piece of leather and stuffing it into her pocket before jumping down from the tree. She righted the bicycle and swung onto it. "I'll be right there. Don't come outside the fence."
Yelena. —Her little sister.
Her own memory had been enhanced by specific stimuli after the Red Room retrieved her again, making the girl growing steadily larger in her vision feel all the more... precious.
Natalia braked, dismounted, leaned the bike against the fence, and swung her leg over into the backyard. She hurried over at a light jog, cupping the little girl's face. "Don't cry. Your sister's back. Don't cry." Her thumb gently wiped away the tears, even as a dampness began to gather in her own eyes. Natalia forced the impulse down, swallowing the emotion, and simply repeated the comforting words, "Sister's here," her eyes fixed on the girl's face as if she could etch every feature into her mind forever.
"Papa and... Mama... are... not... home... again," Yelena hiccupped, her small arms wrapping tightly around her sister's legs.
After finally destroying the Red Room, the two had rarely seen each other, only occasionally checking in to confirm the other was safe. Then came the Blip. Vormir. And then... now.
The softest part of her heart ached with a sour, bitter pain.
Natalia bent down, hooked her hands under the girl's arms, and lifted her into an embrace. "Their work is just very busy. Did you just wake up from your nap? Are you hungry?" In her memory, as the undercover mission neared its final stages, Alexei and Melina were essentially nocturnal, out all night and sleeping during the day.
Holding her little sister, Natalia walked through the backyard, pushed the back door open, and stepped into the house. "What would you like to eat? Let's see what Mama and Papa left in the fridge today."
"Mac and cheese?" The tears were gone from her voice now.
"All you ever think about is mac and cheese," Natalia said, tickling her sides. "What about vegetables? You need to eat those too."
"No... hahaha!" Yelena squirmed and giggled in her sister's arms.
"Who's a little mischief?"
"Not me! And today you have to read me stories! Two of them!"
"Oh, really? I'll consider your request if you eat your broccoli tonight."
"No way!" Yelena retaliated by tickling her back, and the two sisters dissolved into laughter in front of the refrigerator.
How many days like this did they have left? She didn't know.
"...and he returned to the valley where he grew up, back to his family..." Natalia turned her head and saw the little girl next to her was already asleep. She gently closed the book, got out of bed, and went to the bathroom. Earlier, she had hidden that rolled-up leather in the cabinet above the sink.
[Please provide us with your response via the owl you have received no later than [July 31st], after carefully reviewing the enclosed materials.] [We await your owl, or a response conveyed through your parents.]
Indoors, under sufficient light, the deep green writing no longer glowed. She experimentally turned off the light and, sure enough, saw the ink, made of some unknown material, begin to shimmer with an internal light once more.
Magic.
Wanda. Strange. Asgard. In her strange and brief life, she had probably seen everything. Raccoons that sent emails. Time travel. Alien planets. If you asked her, those thirty-plus years had felt infinitely longer.
Magic. Her eyes returned to the words "Magical Congress of the United States of America (MACUSA)" and "International Statute of Secrecy."
This was new.
In truth, inexplicably returning to the Red Room, being brainwashed for a mission, suddenly falling and regaining her memories... It was all a bit much.
Escape Ohio. Avoid the Red Room. But what about Yelena? And Budapest? Dreykov? Thanos.
Return to the Red Room. Since she had done it once before, following the same steps again shouldn't lead to failure.
Clint.
She could take down target after target without spilling blood. She could wield unfamiliar alien weapons to grievously wound aliens. She could give her life to erase the red in her ledger.
But now, she was lost, uncertain of which path to choose next. And she didn't have that red ledger anymore.
"Natalia?"
Her thoughts interrupted, Natalia swiftly hid the leather scroll inside the toilet tank, flushed for cover, opened the door, and responded softly, "Mama, Yelena's asleep."
"Shh. I need you to get dressed. We have to go."
"Where are we going?" So today was the day the mission ended.
"Somewhere, baby. Go change, quickly. Your papa will take care of Yelena."
There was no time for adjustment. Soon, all four of them were in the car.
So. It's now or never.
Houses flashed by the car window, soon giving way to scattered trees and barren land. When she saw the plastic hangar housing the plane again, Natalia picked up the drowsy Yelena, pushed the car door open, and headed towards the hangar.
"Shhh, it'll be over soon, shhh." She helped Melina settle Yelena into the aircraft cabin. Melina turned and reached for her. "You get in too. Take care of your sister."
She scrambled through the hatch, aided by a push from below. "What about Papa?"
Melina climbed into the cockpit and shut the door. "Don't worry. He'll come."
"No! I want him to come too!" Natalia jumped out as the hatch was closing halfway. She grabbed the handle, applying pressure to ensure Yelena wouldn't accidentally fall through the gap after takeoff. She only let go, dropping to the ground, when she heard the definitive thud of the hatch locking into place.
"Natalia!"
Sirens wailed on cue, forcing the plane to start its engines. Unnoticed in the shadow of the wing, a figure swiftly darted into the low bushes.
Police car one. Alexei would handle it.
Police car two. Natalia squinted, puzzled.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Last time, she was inside the plane and hadn't seen the second car was from S.H.I.E.L.D.
The objective was to neutralize the second car. Making a swift judgment, Natalia drew the Beretta she had tucked into the back of her waistband before leaving the house. Her left hand cupped her right, forming a stable grip on the weapon.
The eleven-year-old body was too small. Three years undercover had completely erased any training痕迹 (traces); there was no muscle, stability was poor. The Beretta in her hand... its effective range was 15 meters. The distance to the target car...
Thirty meters. Twenty-five. Twenty.
This car would soon turn right, circling around to intercept the plane. She only had one chance. Her whole body tensed, her gaze locked onto the spinning front wheel of the car as she aimed.
Pop. Pop-pop.
The gunshots were quiet. Only when she felt the empty click of the magazine did she realize she had already fired all seven rounds. And just as she remembered, the car swerved right, disappearing behind the building.
Please let it work. Please let it work. In the darkness, a figure in the bushes was praying.
Screech— Vrooooom—
The sound of screeching brakes and roaring engines rose together.
The figure in the bushes allowed a faint smirk to touch her lips. Then, in another swift motion, she melted back into the night.
Chapter 3: chapter3: Way out.
Summary:
so she escaped from the red house
Notes:
plz leave any comment
Chapter Text
1995.
Surveillance systems were not yet widespread. Stark Industries was just beginning its transition. The Brady Handgun Violence Prevention Act and the Federal Assault Weapons Ban were in effect.
No risk of identity exposure, but also no gun.
Federal agents and CIA officers had set up a full perimeter around the house. Two armed guards watched the front and back doors, and a constant stream of people moved in and out. Watching the prominent "FBI" and "CIA" lettering on their backs, Natalia suppressed her inner turmoil. Evacuation plans A, B, and C flashed through her mind only to be immediately discarded.
Surrendering to the American authorities was a dead end. The number of KGB agents and Widows潜伏 (deep undercover) within them was not small.
Stealing a car was a dead end. Given the current situation, checkpoints were certainly set up at the community exits. This plan was even more foolish than turning herself in.
Going on foot was a dead end. Aside from an empty gun, she had no equipment. With zero supplies, she'd never make it out of the search grid. Not to mention her conspicuously bright blue hair.
Lying low until the situation calmed down seemed feasible. Food and clothing could be managed somehow, and lodging could be found in one of the empty houses in the community. Her neighbor girl, Anita, had just proposed an "exploration" two days ago.
"The people who moved into 2351 never stayed more than six months before moving out again! It's been two years now, and no one has moved in since! It must be haunted! Let's go explore!"
Wait. There was something else. There had to be.
Quick, remember.
The recent conversation felt like it happened a lifetime ago, after her memories returned. She slowly recalled the scene from that day, piecing it together word by word.
"Okay, shall we go now?"
"But I'm scared."
"Don't be such a baby, Sally."
"We can call my brother to come with us! He's in the military, he can protect us!"
"Sam's back? Since when? Did he bring his gun back? Can I see it?"
"No! You idiot Paulus, how many times do I have to tell you Sam's in the Air Force! He doesn't use guns!"
"Cool, does he have his own plane then?"
Not there. A bit later.
"Then I'll go ask Sam now."
"Sam's not here, but no. Mom said Sam has to go back on Sunday, he doesn't have time to play house with us."
"Haunted house! This isn't playing house!"
There. Thanks, Sally.
Following her memory to Sally's house—number 2354—Natalia crouched and moved closer to the backyard fence, next to which was the garage's back door.
"Are you sure you don't want us to come with you? Sally said last night to be sure to wake him."
"It's fine, Mom, let him sleep. It's already great that Dad can drive me."
The muffled voices became clearer as she stood by the garage door. Natalia pressed her ear against the wooden door, listening to the sounds inside.
"Alright. Remember to call often."
"Mary, where are the car keys?"
Confirming all three voices were inside the house, she pulled the door open just enough to slip through.
Perfect. The garage held a full-size Ford. Cans of food and bags of flour were also placed on a wooden shelf on the wall.
The trunk was wide open, containing two military-style duffel bags. Natalia moved with lightning speed. She grabbed one bag, dug out most of its contents leaving only a military uniform, then used a blanket to bundle up the removed clothes and other miscellaneous items. She tossed the bundle under the car, ensuring its placement made it invisible unless someone lay down to look. She then grabbed a can of corn, climbed into the duffel bag, and zipped it up from the inside. She felt around, arranging the military uniform around her calves, feet, and knees for padding and cover.
All set.
"Get in the car, boy."
"You forgot to close the trunk, Dad."
Thud. The trunk lock engaged.
"Sorry, my mistake. Forgive this old man with a bad memory."
"You're not that old."
The engine started. The car rolled over the garage door threshold, click-clacking once before accelerating.
"What the—"
"Isn't that Alex's house? What's going on there?"
"Is that.. the FBI? And the CIA?"
"Oh, God bless them." Father and son continued their conjectures about home invasions, robberies, and murders all the way to the community's main exit.
"The suspect is still in the community? Should we turn back and check?"
"Let's ask first."
The car window rolled down. A police officer's voice came through clearly into the trunk: "Official FBI checkpoint. Please present your ID and state your destination."
"Here, officer. Sam, give me your ID card," the voice laced with unease. "Officer, what happened? Is the suspect still at large?"
"I'm a pilot stationed at Wright-Patterson AFB, reporting back for duty today. My father is driving me. Officer, do you think we should return home to look after our family?"
"The primary suspect has escaped. We are currently conducting resident screenings. We have numerous officers inside the community. You may proceed."
"Okay, thank you for the generous information."
The car started moving again. Morning birds began to chirp, and mundane father-son chatter resumed inside the car.
Roughly half an hour passed without further checkpoints. Timing her move with the blare of a car horn from outside, Natalia deftly unzipped the bag from within. Using the cover of the responding honk from their own car, she reached out and pulled the emergency release lever near the trunk lock. The lid popped open slightly. Fresh air rushed through the gap.
Nice and clean.
Ohio. Ohio.
From Cleveland to Patterson Air Force Base, via I-70, I-71, or I-75... roughly... over three hundred kilometers. During her three years living in Cleveland, her entire knowledge of the state of Ohio came from distance calculation problems on math tests.
Everything else relied on Red Room training.
During her training period, Russia had recovered from the dissolution and had deeply infiltrated the United States. Geographical education focused solely on the locations of military bases and interstate highway routes.
Best to wait until near the military base and infiltrate a nearby military family community. Decision made, Natalia leaned against the side of the trunk, stretched her legs, and rested her head against the back of the rear seat, catching a brief respite. In the whirlwind of events, there had been no time to think about her current situation.
The Soul Stone. She never saw it, never felt its presence, only remembered the fall and then... everything. Even the initial waking moments back in the Red Room felt dreamlike.
Reality. The hand not holding the can of corn clenched and unclenched tightly.
Was she even truly alive now?
Years of espionage experience and life as a special agent had become instinct. Even with countless questions, instinct ultimately commanded her body. About three hours later, hearing the traffic begin to interweave, Natalia pushed the trunk lid open with force and jumped out just before the car made a turn. Amidst the sound of brakes and the shocked cries of a few pedestrians, she moved quickly, merging into the crowd with a few swift, practiced steps, disappearing once more.
Chapter Text
This was Huber Heights, the community closest to Wright-Patterson AFB. Most residents were military family members, with a portion being retired veterans who had once held high ranks.
"Do you know your brother's unit number?"
"Mom always hangs up on his calls. I only know it's Wright-Patterson."
"Oh, you poor dear. Would you like to stay at my house tonight?"
"It's alright. I need to go to the base to find Steve."
Blame your overly common name. Apologizing insincerely to a certain someone in her heart, Natalia maintained the expression most likely to sway an elderly woman. "I want to join the military too, so I can escape home forever, just like Steve."
"Oh..." The old lady clutched her chest sympathetically. "Stay here tonight. I'll drive you to the base tomorrow. Even though old Sam, my husband, passed, I can still find someone to help locate your brother."
"Alright then. Thank you."
"Sweetie, why don't you go take a shower? I have some clothes my granddaughter wore when she was little. They're a bit old, but they're clean and I've kept them well."
"That's very generous, Ma'am."
"You can call me Hardees."
The blue dye had clung stubbornly to her bleached-red hair. She had earlier rummaged through the beauty aisle at Kmart before finding a box of black hair dye.
The shower ran steadily. Working quickly, she applied the dye in front of the mirror, then pushed open the bathroom window to look at the bus stop outside the distant McDonald's. She had seen the schedule on a Greyhound bus window when she left Kmart.
Buses ran every four hours. The last bus was at eleven.
One had just passed. She had less than four hours. Once her hair felt dry, Natalia rinsed out the dye, wrapped her hair in a towel, and went downstairs to the kitchen.
"What's wrong, dear?" The elderly white woman's gaze moved from the pot on the stove to the girl, sensing her unease. "You can go watch TV, or go look for something fun in Shasha's room. First door on the left upstairs. I'll call you when dinner's ready, okay?"
Walking seamlessly into the grandmother's room, Natalia changed out of the pajamas into a tracksuit from the closet, found a pair of canvas shoes to put on, and rummaged until she found a backpack printed with a large Mickey Mouse head.
This is almost too smooth.
A faint sense of foreboding urged her to hurry up. Finally stuffing the necessary items into the backpack and erasing traces of her presence, she pushed open the window, gripped the frame, and jumped down, retreating along the outer walls of the row houses.
Sirens wailed. Diners in the restaurant looked out the window.
"Has anyone seen a young girl? Around twelve years old, blue hair, wearing either pajamas or a yellow t-shirt and jeans?" A man in military uniform pushed the door open and asked.
Most people just glanced at him and went back to their meals. Only a younger couple exchanged a look before responding, "No, officer."
The man picked up his walkie-talkie, scanning the restaurant. "Sector A3," His eyes fell on a figure at the counter. Height matched. Hair... black. Magenta tracksuit. A black backpack worn reverse style. "Clear," he reported before pushing the door open and leaving.
"Your chicken burger combo."
"Excuse me, could I get a kids' meal to go as well? The toy, I'd like the Pocahontas doll," Natalia said with a shy smile. "It's for my little sister."
The cashier gave an understanding smile, taking the cash she offered from Hardees's wallet. "Of course."
The digital clock on the wall showed 10:30 PM. Natalia waited at the bus stop, holding the unpacked Disney toy and the props she had prepared earlier in one hand, and the bagged kids' meal in the other.
Soon, the silver-grey bus arrived right on time. The doors hissed open. "Kid, you can't—"
She stepped onto the bus, taking a moment to unravel the now-crumpled note and the dollar bill wrapped around the mini toy, handing them to the driver: [Hello, this is my daughter, Yelena. I'm her father. Sorry, I've received sudden orders to return to base, and her mother is in New York. Here is my unit number and her mother's phone number. Her mother will be at the station to pick her up tomorrow at 11 AM. Please don't refuse to let her on. Thank you very much. Sincerely, Walsh.] Parts of the numbers were slightly smudged, but what did it matter? Look at this little girl, so nervous her hands were sweaty.
"Oh..." The driver closed the door. "Go find a seat. No one else will be getting on at this hour. You can lie across two seats. Sleep, and you'll be in New York when you wake up."
"Thank you," she whispered meekly, shrinking back and moving toward the rear seats.
Why New York? She couldn't quite explain the impulse in her heart; it was just the first time in her life she had recklessly followed her gut. Natalia woke from a short nap and continued pretending to sleep, waiting for the sun to rise.
She needed to find a way to get an identity registered in the citizen system, preferably among a dispersed population. A blue light suddenly glowed beside her. Opening her eyes, she found that strange snake again. Natalia immediately swung her backpack at it, but the snake phased through it like a virtual projection.
---
Swallowing a curse internally, she pushed aside the unknown creature for now, first confirming the eerie light hadn't attracted anyone else's attention. Then, she once again took the familiar leather scroll from its mouth.
Unrolling it revealed an identical acceptance letter, only this time with two lines underlined beneath the words [Reply by July 31st].
Whatever. If she could come back from the dead, coming back as a... witch (?) wasn't that strange either.
The morning sun gradually filled the bus cabin. Passengers boarded in succession, bathed in the bright sunlight, full of anticipation for their impending New York dreams. As the bus reached its stop, she disembarked,挤 (jostling) among a crowd of New York dreamers, and hailed a cab straight to 177A Bleecker Street. A place she'd only seen in S.H.I.E.L.D. reports—the New York Sanctum.
"We're here, miss," the young driver turned around, his white teeth bright against his dark skin. "Haunted house exploration, huh?" Natalia replied with a polite smile and paid the fare.
Standing before the decidedly archaic wooden door, Natalia looked up, scrutinizing the building with difficulty. It was... an old... dilapidated... building.
Her gaze returned to the wooden door. She stepped forward and knocked lightly.
"Sorry, we're not currently accepting..." A harried-looking Asian man opened the door. "Oh, hey there, little girl. Separated from your family?"
"Wong? What are you doing?" Someone called from inside.
The man named Wong turned his head. "A minor issue," he said before turning back to her. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Um," Natalia hesitated. "I heard this is a school for magic. Is that true?"
"There's no such thing as magic in this world. Where did you hear such nonsense?" The Asian man said, his denial slightly unnatural.
"But... I received this." She handed him the rolled-up acceptance letter.
Chapter 5: chapter5: Natalie·Rushman, a witch.
Summary:
here comes the hp contents
Notes:
comment！
plz！
anything！
Chapter Text
"You've come to the wrong place, kid," Wong, the novice sorcerer of Kamar-Taj, sighed. "Where are your parents?" How could they let a child wander out alone looking for some magic school.
"I'm on my own."
Every year, many people found their way to Kamar-Taj driven by utter desperation, so Wong only felt a brief flicker of pity for the girl standing alone before him. He then moved to close the door. "I can only tell you you've come to the wrong place. Why don't you go to the location specified on this—"
"Why not invite her in for some tea?"
The Asian man, hearing the woman's voice from inside, turned his focus back to the little girl before him, scrutinizing her carefully from head to toe. He pulled the door open. "Please, come in."
Two cups of tea sat on the antique-style tea table.
Sitting cross-legged on a woven mat, Natasha pretended to be curious, glancing around the hall while her peripheral eyes inadvertently skimmed over the woman sitting opposite her several times.
"Would you like to try some?" The bald woman gestured to the tea in front of her.
"Thank you," she reached for the cup, her fingers touching the side before pulling back. "It seems a bit hot. I'll wait a little longer."
"You have something on you," the Ancient One looked deeply at her, "that I cannot see."
"What does that mean?" Natasha tensed defensively.
The Ancient One continued to gaze at her, picking up the teacup meant for Natasha and bringing it to her own lips. "I do not know, because I cannot see it." She took a sip, then pushed her own cup across the table towards Natasha. "Now you may enjoy your tea."
Natasha didn't move.
Seeing her hesitation, the Ancient One spoke again. "We are not in the habit of poisoning our guests' tea."
"Do you have a name, Master?" She had heard the Asian man call her that.
"The Ancient One."
"Why am I here?"
"You sought us out. You knocked on the door yourself."
"You know that's not what I mean."
"There is time wrapped around you. It cannot be seen clearly. I think you are aware of this, or have briefly forgotten." The dialogue was pale and dry; the Ancient One seemed to lose interest. "After you finish your tea, you may leave. Wong will tell you what you need to know. Please excuse my rudeness, but I have duties to attend to." With that, she left first.
1.
It was too early. Too early to know if anyone had yet observed the disaster thirteen years later. Even more uncertain was whether everything would happen again as she had experienced it.
Holding the note Wong had given her, Natasha stepped out of the Sanctum and stopped at the doorstep, unsure where to go.
If she returned to 2000, she would first go undercover, then wait for an opportunity to escape and destroy the Red Room. If she returned to 2006, she could immediately adapt to the life of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. If she returned to 2016, she would try everything to prevent certain events.
But she was in 1995, having easily escaped control, possessing unconstrained freedom.
What should she do?
What did she want to do?
After these two unanswerable questions, the black-haired girl walked a stretch down the street. A taxi happened to be coming; she hailed it and got in.
[1995.02.27-1995.05.11 Natalie Rushman] In a NYPL branch library, slipping the forged library card into a book and returning it to the shelf, Natasha smoothed her hair, picked up a different book, and walked to the checkout counter. "I'd like to borrow this book."
"Please present your library card."
"I've lost my library card. Can I apply for a new one?"
"Of course. See that stack of forms to your left? Fill one out and bring it to me."
A short while later, Natasha returned to the service desk to submit the form.
"Your father? Mr. Michael Rushman?"
"No, no, he's my uncle. My parents are both deceased."
"Oh..." The information was complete, and the handwriting in the guardian section was clearly a florid script a girl couldn't possibly produce. The clerk didn't press further, took back the application form, and pulled out a new library card. "Write your name on this, and I'll stamp it for you."
"Done."
"Very good. Here is your new library card. Remember to keep it safe and don't lose it again."
In the 90s, with computer penetration rates below forty percent and paper records rarely interconnected, no one knew that Michael Rushman had passed away three months prior, let alone how a nearly sixty-year-old man could have a niece just over ten years old.
Thus, a legal identity was fully established.
The staff at the youth facility wouldn't care when an extra person showed up. Forging a birth certificate only took a bit of time spent rummaging through the facility's records room late at night. As for the social security number, she simply used one belonging to a girl with a similar birth date. So what if two people shared the same social security number? A classic and common American clerical error.
Returning to the youth facility, Natasha took out the book she had just borrowed from her still-carried Mickey Mouse backpack and sat on the bed to read. It had taken a full week to forge a complete life history for an eleven-year-old girl. She hadn't rashly gone to explore the address on the note given by the New York Sanctum sorcerer. Today was the last day of July; she intended to wait and see.
"Natalie? Natalie Rushman?"
[There are many ways in which the god can make us lonely and lead us to ourselves.] She looked up from the book at the woman calling her.
"Someone is here to see you," the female staff member muttered strangely. "Said he's some kind of school admissions teacher. Weird." Recruiting students from a youth facility.
Right. Natasha closed the book and walked over as indicated by the woman, leading her to herself.
Laughlin Quail stood at the entrance of the youth facility, surveying the building which could hardly be called tidy or attractive. Strange things happened every year, but this year was particularly odd. First, an admission letter showed as read but received no reply until it automatically destructed a week ago after expiring. Then, on the very deadline for confirmed enrollment responses, a new admitted student miraculously appeared.
Hearing footsteps approaching, Laughlin composed himself and looked solemnly at the black-haired girl walking towards him. "Natalie Rushman?"
"Yes. You can call me Natasha."
"Your parents?"
"Obviously, they're dead," Natasha said, tilting her head slightly towards the building behind her and shrugging to indicate the obvious fact—she lived in a youth facility.
"Other relatives?"
She looked exasperated. "No, sir. Just me."
"Oh," Laughlin pursed his lips, choosing his words. "Well... while growing up, did anything... strange ever happen to you?"
So many things. A spy as a child, an assassin as an adult, a special agent after capture, and then, barely... a superhero. Fought enhanced soldiers, encountered modified humans, battled aliens, traveled to other planets...
Too many things, sir. "No," she replied.
"Aw..." Laughlin tsked. "Well, the thing is, you're a witch."
"I'm a what?"
"A witch."
"That's not funny, sir."
Laughlin looked around to ensure no one was nearby. "Lumos," he pulled out his wand and cast the spell, the tip lighting up.
"So? A flashlight shaped like a little stick?"
Hey, this kid. Laughlin cleared his throat and cast another spell. "Aguamenti." A stream of water flowed from the wand tip, spilling onto the ground.
Natasha put on a shocked expression. "This is.."
"Yes, it's magic. And you, child, are a witch," Laughlin stopped the spell. "For some reason, the Gordian Knot only detected your magical talent today. I'm here to deliver your admission letter. If you choose to enroll, I will be your Charms professor after the term begins."
"What?" She feigned a look of struggling to accept reality.
Laughlin sighed. "Why don't we find a place to discuss this in detail? What do you like to eat? How about McDonald's? My treat."
Chapter 6: chapter6: 《Harry potter》
Summary:
thats the name she could recognize
since lila—— Clint's daughter really liked it
Chapter Text
If one had to name a food that's impossible to mess up, it would probably be potatoes. In her previous life, while active as an assassin in her motherland, she had survived on nothing but potatoes for a week while in hiding.
Seeing her staring at the empty fries box, Laughlin asked, "Another order of fries?"
"No." Potatoes are still best as potato pancakes.
"If there are no other questions, then please sign the admission letter. Shall I take you to get your school supplies tomorrow, or would you prefer another day?"
Natasha picked up a napkin to wipe her hands, the salt grains from the fries grating against her fingertips. "It's fine, we can go now." When she first arrived in Brooklyn, she had "accidentally" burgled a teen gang's hideout and still had over five hundred dollars left.
"Eh?" Laughlin wasn't prepared; he was wearing his No-Maj suit when he left, though wearing No-Maj clothing wasn't that uncommon these days. "Shall we go then?"
"This is the Magical Congress of the USA Avenue, also known as Seraphina Picquery Avenue, named after the most renowned President of MACUSA," Laughlin said after finding an empty spot and Side-Along Apparating with the new student to North America's largest magical community. "Unlike the famous Hogwarts, Ilvermorny only provides students with wands after the term begins, and they are not allowed to be taken off school grounds before graduation. Such rules help prevent unnecessary incidents..." He chattered on, completely unaware that the new student's eyes had glazed over.
"...By the way, most people experience some degree of dizziness or nausea their first time Apparating. Didn't expect you to adapt so well. Do you have any money? The currency used in the wizarding world is Galleons. I'll take you to exchange money first. If not, given your situation, Ilvermorny provides a basic stipend, and there are also student loans available."
The overwhelming dizziness finally began to subside a little. That Natasha could remain standing upright until now was全靠 (entirely due to) instincts honed over years of training.
"How much is needed? I have three hundred dollars. Is that enough?" She suppressed the acid rising in her stomach and quickened her pace to catch up with the man who had already started walking.
"I don't really follow the exchange rate. It's roughly seven dollars to a Galleon, I think? Not sure lately, might have gone up," Laughlin strode ahead. "Textbooks range from three to ten Galleons. A full set of Potions equipment costs less than twenty Galleons. Good wizard robes are more expensive, but the basic ones are around seven or eight Galleons."
Natasha had to lengthen her stride to keep up. "Aren't there used books and... Potions equipment?" Potions... was still an awkward term for her.
"Oh, of course," Laughlin glanced back at her. "I just thought you little girls would care about using second-hand stuff." He thought for a moment. "But given your situation, you should qualify for a thirty-Galleon stipend. Combined with your own money, it should be enough to buy everything new." As he spoke, they arrived. "This is the Magical Congress of the United States of America, abbreviated MACUSA." He scratched his head. "Forgot No-Majs need to exchange money. Should have brought you here directly." He'd only been in the job for two years and wasn't really qualified to guide students yet. He was only assigned this task because it was sudden and the other professors were unavailable.
"Where?" Natasha stared silently at the brick wall in front of her.
"Just walk straight through," Laughlin said before walking directly into the wall. Natasha mentally repeated the word "Magic" and followed him through the wall.
Inside was a backup passageway. A door labeled [Emergency Exit] stood at the far left end of the passage.
"This way." Laughlin led her to the right, turned left at the corner, and walked to a metal door at the end. Laughlin tapped the door handle with his wand. "There. Welcome to MACUSA." He pressed the handle and pushed the door open for the new student, revealing a rare sight.
The door opened into an expansive hall. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the glass windows, casting long, regular shapes on the patterned marble floor. The ceiling seemed to have corresponding patterns, but the distance was vast—easily over two hundred meters—making it impossible to discern the intricate designs. The entire hall resembled a solemn church, and the people coming and going were like serious priests hurrying about their business.
"Quite spectacular, isn't it?" Laughlin raised an eyebrow, looking proud. "Come on, the Financial Department is on the third floor. Let's get your money exchanged quickly and welcome you to the wonderful wizarding world." He led her through the crowd into a corridor and pressed the elevator button.
Magic and elevators. Natasha raised an eyebrow, examining the incongruous combination before her.
"Hey, don't give me that look," Laughlin said, noticing her expression. "Unlike Britain, we're quite accepting of No-Maj modern technology. We even have magical wireless and radios."
Really? But the "No-Majs" were already using mobile phones. She didn't need to think to know what 'no-maj' meant. Natasha resumed a neutral expression and followed him into the elevator to the third floor. After more left and right turns, they arrived at a door with a plaque: [Financial Dept. - Evelyn Quail].
"Normally, you shouldn't come here. Usually, the guide carries Galleons for direct exchange. The annual exchange limit per student is one hundred Galleons. But your situation is special. Evelyn probably won't say anything." With that, he pushed the door open and led her in.
"You can't just bring a student who hasn't even enrolled into the Congress!"
"Evie, listen, this girl's situation is special!"
"I don't care how special it is! You shouldn't have done this no matter what!"
"Hey! Don't be so serious. She's just an eleven-year-old girl. Besides, the stipend distribution also goes through the Financial Department. We can solve everything at once."
...
"What? No stipend application documents? Are you kidding me?" "I don't care about same-day admission! Without application documents, what am I supposed to approve? Even if I could, approve what? Merlin's air?"
"Hey, do me a favor, good Evie, I swear I'll submit the documents as soon as I get back to school."
...
"You'd better submit a full incident report about today's events to me by tomorrow."
"Okay, okay, good Evie, you know I love you."
"Get out!"
After she minimized her presence and stood silently in the corner of the office, watching the siblings' "friendly exchange" for over ten minutes, Natasha finally received a small pouch containing seventy Galleons and followed Laughlin back the way they came to the Congress Avenue.
"MACUSA shares a building with the No-Majs. Specific spells are needed to enter. But if you just want to go to the commercial street, like we just did, walk through the No-Maj building and step out backwards three feet to the right of the emergency exit. Remember, exit backwards, enter forwards."
"What happens if I enter forwards?"
"Oh no, no, no. You don't want to know. It would be a complete disaster," Laughlin said with a shudder, thinking of his first time accidentally stumbling into the Venom Alley. "Just don't enter forwards." He shivered again and quickly changed the subject. "Alright, let's hurry and get your things."
Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, Magical Theory, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Magical Drafts and Potions, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: A History & The Tapestry of American Magic.
Checking off each book on the list, Natasha gathered the stack of books from the used book section and walked to the counter to check out.
"Is the latest issue of Rap & Spell in stock yet?" Laughlin was asking the shopkeeper. Frankly, without having formally learned magic, she could already predict she wouldn't excel at Charms.
Her eyes followed where the man's hand reached, and Natasha saw thin magazines and newspapers neatly displayed on a wooden rack on the counter. Placing her books on the counter, and seeing Laughlin already engrossed in flipping through Rap & Spell, she casually pulled out a newspaper to skim. The next moment, her movement to unfold the newspaper froze.
[Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived! Escapes Death Eaters' Tight Net!]
"Auntie Nat! Watch Harry Potter with me today, okay!" Lila Barton's childish voice echoed in her ears, playing on a loop, refusing to fade.
Notes:
Till now，i still dont know if the deepseek did a good work on translation
Chapter Text
A book.
Thor also had his name in a book, and Norse mythology did indeed record a portion of the truth, and there truly was a Thor Odinson.
She was one hundred percent certain that the world in her previous life had no... this magical world she now found herself in.
Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA, Strange, Wanda. So many capable people, even those versed in the mystical, not one had ever mentioned it. And if she remembered correctly, this seemed to be a novel with a series of sequels, and it might even have been made into movies.
A book had become reality. How was she supposed to accept such an absurd reality.
"Miss?"
The bookstore owner's voice snapped her out of it. Natasha lowered the corner of her mouth that had unconsciously twisted into a sneer.
"That will be twelve Galleons and seven Sickles."
"Okay." She took out thirteen Galleons and handed them over, not even having the presence of mind to吐槽 (mock) the illogical currency exchange rate of one Galleon to seventeen Sickles and one Sickle to twenty-nine Knuts.
With a wooden expression, she followed Laughlin's lead and bought the items needed for Potions class: a pewter cauldron, brass scales, crystal phials, a silver dagger, measuring spoons, etc., a telescope for Astronomy, the latest, highly cost-effective self-correcting quill on the market, used her remaining money to buy two sets of school robes in berry red and blue, one plain black robe for everyday wear, a pointed witch's hat she didn't know when she'd ever use, and finally exchanged the two hundred pounds she had originally kept as a reserve fund with Laughlin for Galleons to buy a cloth backpack enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm. Natasha put all the items into the backpack, which was only a foot long and less than a foot wide, and was Side-Along Apparated by Laughlin back to the alley next to the youth facility.
Her organs had even lost the ability to produce a vomiting reflex.
This was not her world. Thinking this, even the air she breathed at this moment suddenly felt alien.
"Alright, that concludes my duties. The gathering point before the start of term is written on the admission letter. As for how to get there, there is a school bus, but new students are usually dropped off at the gathering point by their parents. Registration for the bus happens on campus before holidays after enrollment. But if you need it, I can add you to the list, though you'd probably be the only new student on the bus."
He was even more talkative than the Spider-Kid. "No need, I will be there on time," Natasha replied.
"Then I'll be off?"
"Okay. Thank you, Professor Quail."
The man Apparated away. The black-haired girl, wearing somewhat dated denim shorts and a plain black T-shirt, shouldered her backpack and walked into the youth facility under the disdainful gaze of the staff member at the door, returning to her bed. The copy of Demian was still open to the page she had left it on, placed face down on the pillow.
Everyone thought the Black Widow was a glamorous, prickly woman dripping with venom. Everyone believed such a woman was decisive, lethally attractive, irresistible, a walking weapon without weaknesses.
But who truly knew her?
Not even the Avengers knew she had once hidden in the desolate Chukotka in the heavy snow, using hands stained with dried blood to turn the pages of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, sitting by a fire built from wood torn off the door of an abandoned house, enjoying moments that were brief yet entirely her own. And no one had ever seen her tears. Tears that fell on the operating table, on the bullet that took a life for the first time, tears shed in the safe house in Budapest, in the empty bases, and throughout the five years of the Blip.
All gone. No more.
Only she remained.
Whether this was an illusion within the Soul Stone or she had truly come to a parallel world, everything she had perceived so far seemed intent on tearing her away from her past, stripping her from that brief yet long enough life, from those complex and profound memories.
Perhaps she really should let it all go, drop the包袱 (burden) dragging behind her, erase the red ledger that no longer existed, and turn around to live a life of her own.
"You are, so to speak, dead and alive at the same time, which is rather clever of you."
She placed Hesse's book together with her magical textbooks, simply packed two changes of clothes from the donation box, shouldered the backpack that was lightweight due to some Extension Charm despite its large capacity, and left the youth facility without looking back.
[Venom Alley] The sign hung crookedly on the wall. Natasha, wearing her plain black robes, a pointed witch's hat, and a scarf covering the lower half of her face, leaving only her eyes (now brown thanks to colored contacts) visible, walked calmly forwards out of the wall. She strolled down this clean yet illicit-smelling street, looking around: everywhere were wizards dressed in black, shop signs mostly left blank, with occasional vendors sitting on the ground with signs like [Cheap Potions] or [Rare Magical Materials] propped beside them.
[Galleon Exchange 1:5 $] Seeing the sign she needed, Natasha walked over and asked in a lowered voice, "Dollars for Galleons."
The vendor looked her up and down. "One hundred Galleons at 1:13, 1:10 for five hundred or more. No checks."
She took a roll of bills from her reverse-worn backpack under the robe, showed it to him, then put it back. "Exchange five hundred's worth." Late last night, she had robbed a small-time drug dealer's stash, netting one roll of Franklins ($100s), three rolls of Grants ($50s), two rolls of Hamiltons ($10s), and a small stack of assorted loose bills.
"Come with me to that alley to get the goods," the vendor said, his eyes fixed on where her hand had been under the robe, his voice low.
The man wore loose robes, making it hard to gauge his build, but his exposed arms looked relatively thin and weak. Natasha nodded and followed the standing vendor into the alley. Her hand slipped into the backpack, left the dollars, and pulled out a dagger she'd taken from the drug dealer's stash, gripping the hilt tightly, ready.
Sure enough, as soon as both of them entered the alley mouth, the man in front turned around immediately and pulled out his wand: "Stupe—"
She gave him no chance to finish. Natasha swiftly stepped forward, closing the distance, and kicked the wand out of his hand against the direction of his dominant hand. Seizing the opportunity, she twisted his arm, pulling him towards her, and pressed the dagger against the carotid artery in his neck, applying slight pressure. "Even if you Apparate away, I will pierce your neck the moment you begin to cast."
"I... I was..." The man's teeth chattered,整个人瘫软下来 (his whole body went limp) from fear, forcing her to use strength to keep him somewhat upright. "Shut up. Either proceed with the transaction or die."
"I... I don't have that many Galleons. Here are three hundred," the man said, trembling as he took a money pouch from his robe. "I.. I won't charge you, you.. just let me go."
Natasha moved backwards with him, intuitively stepping on the man's wand with her foot. "Why should I believe you won't try anything again?"
The man was on the verge of tears. He'd been setting up his stall in Venom Alley for five or six years. Thinking he'd caught an easy target, he had completely misjudged her. "I'm not very skilled, and I'm from a No-Maj background... I recognized a dark wizard as my 'big brother,' usually... I just do exchange deals to earn a little差价 (profit margin)," he promised as if swearing a solemn oath. "I can't do wandless magic. You can... Stun me... Just don't kill me... anything, Ma'am."
Natasha took the money pouch from the man's hand with her free hand. "Put your hands behind your back." The moment the man complied, she released her grip, kicked him hard in the back sending him face-first to the ground, quickly picked up his wand, and cast, "Stupefy!" She had skimmed through The Standard Book of Spells beforehand. After trying and failing wandless magic, she had given up. This was her first practical application. It felt like an electric current passing through; a warm energy flowed from deep within her body all the way to the wand tip, as if the wand had become a natural extension of her own body.
The man lay motionless on the ground. She stepped forward and kicked him again to confirm he was truly unconscious, then put away the money pouch and turned to leave. She did not leave the wand behind.
The sensation of the spell still lingered. Natasha ignored the slight sense of strangeness and walked out of the alley holding the ten-inch-long slender piece of wood.
A wand.
This is magic.
Chapter 8: chapter8: The start
Summary:
finally
its going to be magic time！
Notes:
ive never been to non-asian country. anything related to America is based on internet and ai. sorry for every incorrect expressions if there is any.
comment anything if you want to！
Chapter Text
Eleven years old and one hundred fifty centimeters tall—not short for her age group. But this body was still too small.
The previous confrontation was merely luck. Although she had observed the stall before the transaction, it ultimately came down to a gamble. A gamble that there was no "what if," a gamble that the vendor had no accomplices.
She had won the bet. Luck finally seemed to be on her side, but this place was still not suitable for a long stay.
Natasha walked backwards into the wall. She had seen other wizards do this before. Sure enough, she found herself back in the emergency passage behind the Woolworth Building's service entrance. Wizarding logic seemed either as whimsical as their exchange rates or astonishingly rigid. Entering backwards required exiting forwards in the same manner, and vice versa.
She took off her witch's hat and robes, stored them properly, used the first-floor restroom to remove her colored contacts, swapped the out-of-place scarf for a face mask, and left 233 Broadway through the main entrance with her face covered.
There was still plenty of time. Enough for her to take a Greyhound bus to Massachusetts, arriving just in time for dinner, with plenty of time afterwards to find lodging. The New York of now was no longer the one she was attached to. Realizing this, that indescribable emotion that had lingered in her heart had, at some point, dissipated.
One must always move forward. This was something she had always understood and always practiced.
"Yes, my uncle died. It's just me now. My aunt inherited all the assets, and then I was kicked out."
The bank manager looked pityingly at the girl before him. The teller, seeing her come alone to apply for a bank account, had called him over after understanding her situation and finding herself in a dilemma. But he was equally troubled. "I understand your situation, but it's very difficult for us to open an account for a minor without a guardian."
"What if I make a deposit? My uncle left me some money before he passed." Natasha took the roll of Franklins from her bag and held it out tightly for the manager to see.
It looked like about five thousand dollars. The manager's eyes flickered. "That's a significant amount of money. Are you sure you want to deposit it all?"
"If I can have my own account."
"Would you be willing to put it in a term deposit? Even just a portion, until you come of age? If you're willing, I'll see what I can do to help you."
"I can do that."
"Your identification documents? ID card? Passport? Birth certificate?"
"I don't have an ID card or a passport. I was entrusted to my uncle's care after I was born. I don't know where my birth certificate is," she frowned, then suddenly became animated, "But I know my Social Security number by heart!"
"Oh, that will work too. Don't worry, child. Let's see what we can do for you."
...
"I don't have a stable address to receive statements."
"You can just write any address," the teller winked at her. "After it's all in a term deposit, there won't be any account activity. You can just update your address at any branch once you find a stable one." Learning the girl's next plan was to enter the foster system, the teller offered a few extra words of advice.
"Alright, here is your passbook, Miss Rushman."
"Thank you."
The girl whose Social Security number she had borrowed was far from adulthood. She would find a way to resolve this before then. The most important thing was that she now had a completely legal, government-recognized identity. Natasha took the passbook, then immediately took a taxi to another branch of the same bank, deposited the remaining cash she had into a checking account, and kept less than five hundred dollars in loose bills for daily expenses.
She was now in Adams, a town in the Berkshires at the foot of Mount Greylock, less than ten kilometers from the gathering point mentioned on the admission letter. Returning to the family-style hotel where she had negotiated a long-term stay, she locked the door and, as usual, pulled out The Standard Book of Spells and Advanced Spellcasting: Theory and Practice to practice her spells.
"Expelliarmus!" "Incarcerous!" "Stupefy!" "Protego!" "Petrificus Totalus!" "Alohomora!" ...
She skipped all the collective effect and daily-life spells, focusing solely on practicing defensive and offensive spells with her ten-inch wand. Of course, since there was no target, except for the Unlocking Charm, she couldn't verify the effects of the other spells. But whenever a spell was cast successfully, she could feel the surge and drain of magical power.
The effects could be verified when needed. The current practice was just to ensure she had a last line of defense if she ever found herself in a critical situation. The reason it was the last line was that she had, of course, resumed her physical training—just like her daily routine in the Red Room and S.H.I.E.L.D.: running for endurance, targeted exercises to strengthen specific muscle groups. Without a sparring partner, combat training could only involve simulating attacks against the air.
A month passed quickly. The hottest part of autumn was over. Natasha, wearing her school robes, stood at the gathering point: the entrance to a park at the foot of Mount Greylock.
"Alright, alright," a gentle-looking middle-aged woman stood on the outskirts of the crowd. "Sonorus!" After casting the spell, she said: "Returning students, line up by year. No whispering. New students, say your goodbyes to your parents quickly. And parents," the woman smiled warmly, "There is a three-day Easter break and a two-week Christmas holiday. You'll see each other again soon."
"Professor Bates!" someone among the parents recognized the woman. She was evidently the professor receiving the students.
"Yes," the woman replied.
"Will there be parent-teacher conferences?" "Is there a Thanksgiving break?" "Will there be report cards for midterms and finals?" ...
"I understand your concerns," said Meryl Bates, having dealt with new parents for over twenty years with ease. "The school is not open to the public, so there are no parent-teacher conferences. Regarding a Thanksgiving break, as some students have been requesting it, the school is currently discussing whether to adjust the academic calendar accordingly. Yes, we do issue report cards, usually sent via owl to the students' parents to prevent forgery. We do not have midterm or final exams; semester report cards are based on the student's performance throughout the entire term. As for the class schedule..."
After concluding the annual Q&A session, Meryl said, "Well then, that's that." She收起笑容 (put away her smile). "Now, all new students, form a single line and proceed orderly through the arch." She pointed her wand and cast a silent spell. Amidst the gasps and exclamations of the new students, a stone archway rose from the ground.
"Proceed." The professor, who seemed quite serious when not smiling, effectively intimidated the eleven-year-olds. Everyone lined up as instructed and walked through, one after another.
Natasha hadn't mingled with the chattering children earlier, so no one called her to join the line together. Unintentionally, she found herself almost at the very end of the queue. Finally, it was her turn. She followed the steps of the person in front of her and walked through the arch.
Inside was a stretch of wilderness. Another male professor stood holding his wand, shouting loudly, "New students, over here!" Next to him was a stack of carpets, three people high.
"Four to a group on the flying carpets!" He waved his wand, and the top carpet from the stack floated down. After Natasha and the three students around her sat down, the man waved his wand again, and the carpet rose into the air.
"This is so lame," said the boy sitting to her right. "My brother said he took a carriage pulled by Griffins to school last year. I heard the Magical Creatures Protection Club on campus protested联名 (jointly), and then the school decided to stop using the combination of magical creatures and vehicles."
"Could be other reasons," said the girl sitting diagonally across from him. "During the Triwizard Tournament last year, didn't that boy almost die? My uncle works at MACUSA. I heard him tell my dad over dinner that the magical world has been very unstable lately. Maybe they were afraid someone would curse the Griffins? A magic carpet controlled by a professor can't be tampered with." She looked at the two silent figures beside her. "Are you both No-Majs?"
"Yes." "No, my mom is magical."
"Oh." The girl lost interest in continuing the conversation with them and instead chatted animatedly with the only boy.
"There are rumors that You-Know-Who has returned. The Triwizard Tournament was a trap set by him, and then the Boy Who Lived defeated him again."
"Pfft, who believes that? Dumbledore couldn't even handle You-Know-Who. A fourth-year student? How is that possible?"
"But he's the公认的 (acknowledged) Boy Who Lived!"
"Right, he was only in his fourth year. How was he even qualified for the Tournament?"
"Yeah, does Hogwarts give him special treatment?"
"I told you he couldn't have defeated You-Know-Who. It must have been Dumbledore or some other wizard who did it..." ...
The half-blood girl sitting opposite listened with great interest, while Natasha listened and analyzed the effective information in the conversation.
"By the way, is your red hair natural? Are you of Irish descent?"
Besides functional spells, the only daily-life spell she had learned was the Hair-Growing Charm. She just hadn't controlled it well during casting; her hair grew down to her waist all at once, forcing her to cut it short herself with scissors before going to a hair salon to tidy it into a neat bob.
"Yes. I'm Natalie Rushman. My ancestors were English."
The other three finally realized they hadn't introduced themselves yet.
"I'm Riley Clarke. Both my parents are wizards." "I'm Emily Duncan. My mom's a witch, my dad's a No-Maj." "I'm Jane Foster. Pure-blood."
Wow. She remembered Thor's girlfriend had the same name.
I wonder, in this world, whether the butterfly's wings had fluttered more than just once for her. Watching the approaching buildings, Natasha tucked the wind-blown hair behind her ear and thought idly.
Chapter 9: chapter9: Welcome to ilvermorny
Summary:
shes in！
Notes:
i got the first kudo！
me sooooo flattered
hope you enjoyed this！
Chapter Text
"A castle!" As their flying carpet descended gently, she heard one of the already-gathered new students ahead exclaim.
"New students, follow the line ahead and form four columns. Wait here briefly. Once everyone has arrived, we will proceed inside for the Sorting."
Speaking of the Sorting, Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: A History detailed the origins of the four houses and the Gordian Knot that determined them: Founder Isolt Sayre's mother once owned a brooch shaped like a Gordian Knot. Isolt found it amidst the ruins of the Ilvermorny cottage and kept it with her; the brooch was a cherished memento of her family and her past. Because of this special commemorative meaning, the Gordian Knot later became the symbol of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It wasn't just for the Sorting Ceremony; the school robes she wore now had a golden Gordian Knot brooch pinned to the chest.
As for the four houses... "Alright, everyone, follow me," the lead male professor said loudly once all the new students had arrived. "Welcome to Ilvermorny."
The castle's main doors swung open in response. Natasha followed the line inside.
Just inside was a circular entrance hall. The Gordian Knot was engraved on the floor at its center, and slightly ahead stood the wooden statues representing the four houses: the Horned Serpent for the mind, the Wampus for the body, the Thunderbird for the soul, and the Pukwudgie for the heart.
"Why are there so many new students this year?" "Something happened in Britain. Lots of British wizards are sending their kids to America." "This Sorting is going to take forever. When do we eat? I'm starving." "Shh... keep it down." ...
Natasha looked towards the source of the noise. A balcony circled the second floor of the entrance hall. Students and professors stood upon it, and curious students occasionally leaned over the railing, trying to get a good look at every new student.
"Stand against the wall. When I call your name, step onto the Gordian Knot. The statue that responds is the house you will join. After being Sorted, do not rush; return to your spot and wait until the Sorting is complete."
"What if more than one statue responds?"
"Pfft, you think everyone is a Seraphina Picquery?" a student on the second floor sneered.
A professor immediately chastised him: "Mr. Grant!"
"Ahem," said William Williams, who was assisting with the Sorting on the ground floor, drawing the new students' attention back. "If more than one statue chooses you, the student may choose which house they wish to join." "Now let's begin the Sorting. Rachel Aguilar!"
New students began stepping onto the center of the hall one after another. After a statue responded, applause erupted from the second floor.
"Natalie Rushman." It was her turn. She walked over calmly and stood firmly on the Gordian Knot.
"What—" "Merlin's beard!"
The Wampus statue let out a roar. The crystal on the Horned Serpent's forehead lit up with a green light. Simultaneously, a figure resembling a Thunderbird soared out of its statue and hovered in the air.
A commotion broke out on the balcony. Most of the students leaning on the railing craned their necks to get a better look at the new student standing in the center.
"Red hair. Could she be British?" "The Weasleys don't have a child that young." "Thank goodness." "Are you idiots? The Weasleys aren't the only ones with red hair." "Ah, a rare spectacle like this, and it turns out to be a Brit?"
The hushed whispers merged into a buzzing hum. Natasha looked at the professor assisting the Sorting. "How do I choose?"
"Ah? Oh, step forward and touch the statue representing the house you wish to join. It will claim you."
She didn't hesitate. She stepped forward directly, raised her arm, and placed her palm high on the Wampus statue's neck. She had decided the moment she read about the houses—she would always be a warrior.
The Wampus roared again. The Horned Serpent's crystal dimmed, and the Thunderbird in the air circled back into its statue. Natasha looked back at the professor. "Yes, that completes it," the male professor confirmed.
She withdrew her hand and returned to her original position. The new students on either side immediately turned to her and spoke: "I'm Ginger Dawson / Alan Freeman."
"Natalie Rushman," Natasha replied with her name and then fell silent, merely offering a polite smile in response to their attempts at friendly chatter.
"We got Rushman!" "We got the student chosen by three houses!"
"Quiet!" a booming voice rang out, and the entire hall fell silent amidst the stir. The Sorting continued.
"Sonya Scott" ...
The last student was Sorted. The male professor stepped to the center. "Now, the Prefects from each house will come down to guide you. Except for Horned Serpent, who will select their wands first, the other houses may proceed to dinner. The other houses will be called for wand selection later. New students, please do not sit too far inward on the benches."
On the way to the dining hall, Riley Clarke, who had shared her carpet ride, sidled up to her. "We're in the same house! Let's get along well from now on. I'm a pure-blood; you can ask me anything."
"Okay."
Seeing her lack of interest in conversation, Riley consciously stopped talking, simply walking beside her silently, matching her pace to the dining hall.
The dining hall was rectangular, roughly three times the size of the circular entrance hall. Three long tables ran its entire length down the center. On either side were small square tables, each standing independently, accompanied by either two, three, or four high-backed chairs.
"There is no hierarchy among the four houses. We do not advocate sitting by house. The school encourages friendly interaction between houses. After term starts, you can sit with friends from any house. Main meals are served at the long central tables. The hall serves food from the first lesson until 9:30 PM; you can meet up with friends then and use the small tables for desserts and snacks," the Prefect said before walking to the long table. The inner side was already filled with students from other years. "Alright, let's sit down quickly. Our house is second for wand selection. Those who are hungry, grab something to eat first." He sat down on the outer side of the bench.
Roast chicken, meatloaf, three types of pasta, tacos, casseroles, burgers and fries, sandwiches... a dazzling array of dishes covered the long table.
"Orange juice," the Prefect tapped the table with his wand, and a glass of orange juice appeared before him the next moment. "If there's something specific you want to eat, you can tap the table like this and say it. While not everything is available, you can mostly get what you want. You can try it later once you get your wands."
Wands. It was like throwing a huge rock into a rippling lake. The table of Wampuses looked at each other. Those from magical backgrounds explained wands to the No-Maj-born. Little witches and wizards who already knew each other put their heads together, whispering about who-knows-what. The remaining, seemingly more introverted young witches and wizards also wore expressions of excitement.
Soon, the Horned Serpent new students appeared at the dining hall entrance. "Wampus House!" the professor who had presided over the Sorting called out.
"Alright, let's go." The Prefect stood up and led the eighteen new students out, passing the dozen or so Horned Serpent students entering.
Walking back the way they came, Natasha saw that the circular Sorting hall had disappeared. Presumably, it was only used once a year and hidden after the ceremony. Thinking this, they arrived at the location where the Sorting hall had been. It had now transformed into a wide foyer, connecting the castle's main doors to the dining hall located in the castle's center, forming a T-shaped corridor up to the dining hall entrance. Corridors likely leading to dormitories or classrooms branched off to either side.
"Here," William tapped lightly on the wall. A rectangular door opened on the smooth surface, and the students filed inside at his gesture.
The room was a modest square. Except for the wall containing the door, the other five surfaces—including the ceiling and floor—were covered with small rectangular boxes. The boxes had no lids, each containing a single wand.
William walked to the front of the marveling students. His wand pointed to a small, cordoned-off area of empty space. "See here," he said, pointing to the spot glowing with a faint blue light. "When your name is called, stand here. The blue magic circle will absorb your magic. If you feel discomfort or even dizziness, it's normal. Then a wand will choose you. Everyone must register which wand they receive. The one that chooses you is the wand most suited to you. I don't want to find out anyone is swapping wands for fun or anything like that."
"Christine Curtis" ...
Natasha received the wand that chose her. Failing to satisfy the secretly expectant looks from the crowd, her process of being chosen by a wand was no different from anyone else's. She stepped onto the magic circle, a suitable wand glowed, and the professor summoned it to her with a wave.
Yew and Dragon Heartstring, eleven and three-quarter inches. Gripping the wand again, she found it felt completely different from the other wand she possessed. If that ten-inch wand felt natural, like an extension of her own arm, this one felt completely fused with her very being. A powerful resonance made her utterly reluctant to let it go.
After the wand selection concluded, the group returned for the meal. After dinner, the Headmaster appeared at the front of the hall, read out the school rules and calendar, and then the other years dispersed to their dormitories. The new students were taken to register their wands.
"A wand of yew is reputed to endow its owner with the power of life and death, which might, of course, be said of all magic wands; yet yew retains a particularly dark and fearsome reputation in the sphere of dueling and all curses. It is among the most powerful and notoriously difficult to master. It typically selects those who are both formidable warriors and staunch protectors." "Dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. They are the most prone to learning, but also the most prone to stray towards Dark Magic. They usually develop the strongest attachment to their current owner." "You have a very powerful wand," the administrator said to her with a smile after registering it.
Chapter 10: chapter10: First grade
Summary:
just normal daily life in ilvermorny
Notes:
comment anything！
Chapter Text
Natasha sat on her bed, stroking the wand she was reluctant to put down.
"Are you going to use the bathroom? I'd like to take a shower," asked Ginger Dawson, the girl who had stood to her left during the Sorting.
"You go first."
Natasha examined the wand touted as "very powerful": entirely black, with faint dark red hues at the handle and tip. Rough, elongated wood grain patterns wrapped around its entire body. Endowing life and death, prone to turning to Dark Magic.
The wand chooses the wizard. She believed it.
The clock on the dormitory wall pointed to nine o'clock. She placed the wand on her bedside table, took advantage of her roommate's absence, got out of bed, and began organizing her luggage.
She didn't know what the dormitories of the other houses were like. The Wampus house dormitory was on the third floor, left of the castle entrance. A Wampus half-bust lay atop the doorframe, mouth wide open as if roaring. Pressing the third claw from the left on its left paw and the second claw from the left on its right paw would open the door to the common room. The doors to the boys' and girls' dormitories were on the left and right sides of the common room, respectively. In front of the boys' dormitory door was a stone statue of a male Wampus, half a person tall; rotating its right paw opened the entrance. In front of the girls' dormitory door was also a Wampus, but a female one, lounging lazily on a perch; scratching her chin would open the dormitory door. When they entered, some mischievous boys had tried to get into the girls' dormitory. The moment one stood before the door, the female Wampus immediately stood up and hissed at him.
The interior of the dormitory was nothing special. It was said the Pukwudgie house had six-person rooms. She didn't know about Horned Serpent and Thunderbird, but the Wampus house had two-person rooms. The decor was no different from typical North American style: two wooden beds with curtains that could be drawn down to enclose the entire bed, a bedside cabinet on each side, a desk placed adjacent to it with a candle lit by Lumos for illumination, a wardrobe standing in the corner opposite the desk, and a small bookshelf next to it.
She put her school robes and everyday clothes in the wardrobe, took out her books and teaching materials and placed them on the bookshelf and in the desk drawer. She seemingly casually placed her backpack in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe, but in reality, she had used strands of hair to mark both the backpack clasp and the drawer handle. After doing this, the sound of water from the bathroom still hadn't stopped. She thought for a moment, walked back to the bed, picked up her wand, and cast a Locking Charm on both the backpack clasp and the drawer handle, then carefully reset her hair markers.
"Don't you have any cleaning charms?" she asked when her roommate finally emerged almost an hour later. "I thought wizards would prioritize efficiency."
"No, of course we do. It's just that cleaning charms only make you dust-free and clean. Spells like Scouring Charms for cleaning houses are different from using magical shampoo, shower gel, and bath bombs." Ginger used a Drying Charm on her hair with her wand, noticing her roommate watching. "Oh, right, I'm from a pure-blood family. I've been trying to learn spells with my parents' wands since I was little."
"Are you of Scottish descent too?" The red-haired girl was quite talkative, mostly curious about her roommate who had been chosen by three houses. "My ancestors were British. They came to America as followers during the rise of the first Dark Wizard. Later, when Grindelwald was defeated by Dumbledore, my great-grandfather and great-grandmother couldn't go back."
"Yes, my parents are both British," Natasha said, intentionally gathering more useful information. "But as far as I know, my family has always been No-Maj until I showed magical ability."
"Oh, that's not strange. It's very likely someone in your very distant ancestry was a witch or wizard."
"By the way, you mentioned the first Dark Wizard. How many generations of Dark Wizards has the magical world had? What did they all do?"
"Well... my great-grandparents were radicals. In the twenties, they supported Grindelwald's ideology of 'For the Greater Good.' Simply put, it was about breaking the International Statute of Secrecy, using magic to control No-Majs, and changing the masters of this world from No-Majs to wizards," she said, forcing a smile. "My mother came to America to avoid the trouble during the rise of the second Dark Wizard. According to her, You-Know-Who—that's what we call the second Dark Wizard because it's said he cursed his name, and anyone who directly speaks it will be cursed—well... my mother said You-Know-Who didn't care about Muggles—that's what the British call No-Majs—he supported pure-blood ideology, believing only pure-blood wizards were noble. He gathered a bunch of followers—Death Eaters—massacred Muggles and Muggle-born wizards, and tried to rule the entire wizarding world." Ginger smiled again. She usually didn't talk this much, but a witch recognized by three houses couldn't be ordinary. It was best to befriend her early.
Natasha saw through her intention, but she didn't mind. On the contrary, she appreciated the girl's shrewdness. "Wow, that's... a lot. Thank you for telling me. Would you like some No-Maj candy?" She pulled open her bedside drawer, grabbed a handful of assorted candies, and offered them.
"Thank you." Ginger accepted. Seeing Natasha eat one, she randomly picked one from the handful and put it in her mouth. "Oh, it's bubble gum," she chewed. "I attended a No-Maj elementary school for a while when I was little. I had this candy back then." She also opened her own bedside drawer. "I have some wizard snacks here, some are from Britain. Have some." She put the received candy into the drawer and took two of each from her own snacks, placing them on Natasha's bed. "These are Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans. They have many strange flavors, and you never know how many kinds there really are. This is a Chocolate Frog—be careful when opening it so it doesn't hop away. There's a Famous Witches and Wizards card inside to collect. These are Fizzing Whizbees; they make you float when you suck on them. This is Droobles Best Blowing Gum; you can blow bubbles that last all day without popping..."
Natasha listened attentively, ensuring the girl knew her focus was entirely on her.
"...And then Licorice Wands. They can't cast spells, and the taste isn't great either," she finally realized she had been talking too much. "Well, that's all. It's late. You should go take a shower. There's my shampoo and shower gel on the shelf; you can use them. 'Bubble-Bath' shampoo makes your hair smell nice until you use another shampoo, and 'Splash-'n'-Go' shower gel makes your skin super smooth." This time her smile was genuine. She thought her roommate was a decent person.
This预感 (premonition) was confirmed the next day.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The red-haired girl with short hair made the feather before her float perfectly according to her will on her very first attempt.
"Excellent!" Laughlin applauded. "A perfectly successful first casting. Five points to Wampus!"
"Natalie Rushman," Potions Professor Rebecca Brown walked to Natasha's desk. "A very standard preparation. The Sopophorous bean is uniformly cut into four quarters. Very precise. This step allows for a finer result in your next operation." She patted her shoulder in encouragement. "Two points to Wampus."
During lunch, Natasha observed that although the school had only three long tables to avoid clear divisions between houses, students still tended to sit in groups of three or five from the same house. It was rare to see students from two different houses sitting together.
"What are the house points for?" she turned and asked Ginger, who was tapping the table saying "Strawberry sorbet." A figure sat down to her right; it was Riley Clarke. "The school doesn't encourage inter-house rivalry, but it's a tradition from the founders' alma mater—Hogwarts—so it's been kept. The points don't have huge significance. The Headmaster will mention it briefly at the end-of-term feast. However, points individuals earn for their house are reflected on that student's end-of-term evaluation, so it's still good to earn them if you can."
"Tch," Ginger snorted, annoyed he had interrupted. "Does a farmer's son need to care about grades? Isn't tending the land enough?"
"Check your pride, remnant of the Dark Wizards. Over ninety percent of the wizarding world's food comes from my family's magical farms. If you don't want to pay higher prices for No-Maj food, then shut up."
"Stop it, the Head of House is watching you two," Natasha, sandwiched between them, had to play the mediator.
She had never attended school of her own free will before. Although the current situation was somewhat annoying, for some reason, the emotions she perceived weren't entirely bad. Listening to the two on either side continue their argument, albeit at a lower volume, Natasha cut a piece of steak, put it in her mouth, and chewed while thinking.
Chapter 11: chapter 11: First grade
Summary:
school daily
Notes:
yes i made up these all
idk whay i am writing
had to say keeping natasha not out of character is such a hard thing to do
Chapter Text
The twentieth century couldn't be any more... final. The primary mode of magical transport was brooms.
They had flying carpets and brooms that could fly, yet no one had ever thought to改良 (improve/modernize) other vehicles. Perhaps it was driven by利益 (profit). When cars replaced carriages, stable owners and coachmen suffered the greatest losses. Thinking about the price of flying carpets and broomsticks, Natasha felt a sense of 释然 (resignation/understanding).
Even with a Cushioning Charm applied to the broom, the wind during flight and the occasional dust particle blowing into her eyes were still intensely irritating.
"Wearing goggles would help," Ginger said, noticing her discomfort, trying to comfort her.
The statement felt like saying 'since no one invented umbrellas, just wear a hat on rainy days.' Natasha narrowed her eyes in displeasure but continued to follow the professor's instructions on her broom.
"Watch out!"
Even before the warning came, Natasha had already sensed the rush of air behind her. She sharply pulled her broom upward, her dangling leg seemingly accidentally delivering a powerful kick to the person coming at her.
"Ah!" The girl cried out in pain, loosening her grip. Just as she was about to fall off her broom, Natasha reached out and single-handedly grabbed the back of the girl's robes, holding her aloft before slowly descending to the ground.
"You two! Five points each! Report to my office after class for your punishment!"
"But..." Ginger started to argue on her behalf, but Natasha subtly shook her head at her. She turned her gaze to the girl who had tried to ram her.
Jane Foster, Horned Serpent house, pure-blood ideology supporter. Rumors said her father was a Death Eater. As for the reason behind her attack, it不外乎 (was nothing more than) discrimination against No-Majs. She disdained arguing with children of this age, but that only extended to 'if others don't offend me, I won't offend them.' As for tolerance and让步 (backing down), that was impossible.
Seeing the girl glaring at her, Natasha shot back a挑衅的 (provocative) smile when the professor wasn't looking.
"You filthy Mud—"
"Miss Foster! Watch your language! Twenty points from Horned Serpent!"
Hiss. The students collectively gasped, watching the three of them fearfully.
After this incident, halfway through the flying lesson, the class was changed to broom maintenance. The students finished polishing their brooms and were dismissed early.
At the dining table, Ginger said viciously, "That Foster is despicable!" She was eating meatloaf, stabbing her fork into it with such force it scraped sharply against the ceramic plate.
"Relax," Natasha said, not too bothered. The unfinished "Mud—" was likely a slur against No-Majs. "She got punished with cleaning all the school's bathrooms, lost twenty points, and got an academic warning. Two more of those, and she can be expelled."
"Her parents are both American. Why would she discriminate against No-Majs like that?" Riley, still sitting to her right as he had for over a month since term started—their seating arrangement (Ginger-Natasha-Riley) was almost fixed—continued, "Ever since the Rappaport's Law was repealed and wizards started interacting with No-Majs, we've gained so many new technologies. If it weren't for No-Majs, we wouldn't all have enough to eat even now." His family's Clarke Magical Farms had been among the first in the sixties to incorporate No-Maj planting techniques,改良 (modernizing) the farm and making their fortune because of it.
"Who knows? They all say her father is a Death Eater. I think it might actually be true," said Ginger. The Dawsons were an ancient lineage. While Ginger wasn't particularly warm towards No-Majs, she was far from discriminatory.
Natasha interrupted their conversation. "Let's eat. Have you two finished today's homework?"
"Ah!" "Ah!" Two groans sounded.
"Wait, do we have short essays for both Potions and Herbology today? Nat, save me!"
"Yeah, yeah," Riley nodded in agreement. "Let's go to the library to do homework later, or even the common room is fine."
Natasha finished eating, picked up her napkin, and wiped her mouth. "Can't. I have to go to the Head of House's office for detention."
"That wretched Foster!" the two said in unison, cursing under their breath.
Natasha looked at them amusedly. Sometimes, being constantly surrounded by teenagers made her feel like she was turning into a child herself.
"I've already spoken to other students about the situation. Defending yourself was the right thing to do, but the method was a bit excessive," said Head of House Meryl Bates, feeling a chill thinking about the Horned Serpent girl falling off her broom, as reported by other students. "You can't be absolutely sure. If Miss Foster had been seriously injured, her parents would have the right to hold you accountable." She had heard about this little girl's circumstances from Laughlin.
The feeling of being cared for was always nice. Natasha hung her head,虚心接受批评 (humbly accepting the criticism). "I'm sorry. I won't do that again next time." Retaliation was her instinct. Thinking back now, it was indeed overconfident and rash—not regarding whether Jane Foster would get hurt, but regarding the background Jane Foster might have.
"Alright, you can stay here for a while. Do your homework, read a book. You can leave in two hours." The implication was that this was her "detention."
"Thank you, Professor," Natasha said, her heart feeling warm. "My homework is already done. Is there anything I can help you with?"
Orphaned, excellent classroom performance, outstanding grades in quizzes, talented in various aspects. Meryl looked at her kindly. "Any problems with your studies? I can give you two hours of private tutoring."
She decided to accept the professor's kindness. "I occasionally try to learn spells above my year. I'm currently stuck on the Shield Charm." She could feel the magic leaking out when she cast it, but there was also a stuck,滞住的 (clogged) feeling.
"Oh?" The Shield Charm was standard O.W.L. level material. Meryl was surprised for a moment. "Show me the casting."
"Protego!" Like every previous attempt, the magic leaked out halfway before getting stuck.
"Ah," as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Meryl saw the problem immediately. "Your will to cast the spell isn't firm enough."
Not firm enough? That shouldn't be her problem.
The confusion on her face was obvious. Meryl explained further. "To be clearer, it means you don't truly believe you need the Shield Charm. Perhaps you feel you have the ability to resist spells otherwise, or have the confidence to use other spells to handle danger. So your will to use the Shield Charm isn't firm enough."
"Ah." She had an epiphany. Indeed, she didn't think her reflexes were slower than a wizard's casting speed. Perhaps that was also why learning offensive spells came easier to her than protective ones.
"Protego!" Magic poured out smoothly.
"Incarcerous!"
Clang!— The spell hit the invisible barrier, producing a crisp sound. Meryl was pleasantly surprised. "A Shield Charm of this strength could already earn an 'A' in the O.W.L.s!" This student of hers was very talented. Perhaps she could become an Auror in the future.
Leaving the "detention," Natasha walked towards the dormitory with light steps, her mood cheerful.
"Stupe—"
"Protego!" After blocking the spell, she quickly retaliated towards the attacker's direction. "Incarcerous!"
It was a familiar face she'd just seen before detention—Jane Foster. Within the school, minor private squabbles weren't considered违规行为 (violations). Natasha walked up to the girl and, under her furious and shocked gaze, said, "Reparo!" undoing the Binding Charm.
"You! Densauge—"
Natasha instantly disarmed her, holding both wands in one hand while using her other free hand to twist Jane's arm behind her back, pinning her against the wall. "Stupid. I really don't know how you were recognized by the Horned Serpent," she leaned close to her ear and whispered, "My patience has limits. As you've experienced, with or without magic, I can easily subdue you." So stop playing these clownish games.
About a week later, Ginger rushed into the dorm room excitedly. "I found out why that Jane Foster is targeting you! The boy she likes said you're the prettiest girl in first year! That Williard Kingston from Horned Serpent! He said you're the prettiest in our year!"
She was wrong. Thinking she had become like a child herself was a complete illusion. She absolutely could not understand a child's thought process.
Chapter Text
Not knowing how to be a child, while being a child. This usually isn't a problem normal people have.
The Discussion and Proposal Regarding a Thanksgiving Break ultimately did not pass. Instead, the Christmas holiday was extended by three days to make up for it. The students'哀怨 (lamentations) during Thanksgiving were matched only by their狂喜 (jubilation) over these extra days.
"Are you sure you won't be staying at school?" Meryl asked. When the list of students staying over the holidays was submitted, she thought the girl had missed the application deadline, but it turned out she had genuinely decided to leave.
Natasha smiled shyly. "Yes, I have an uncle in America. Although he's also passed away, he left me an inheritance. I need to go back to meet with his lawyer."
"Oh," Meryl felt somewhat relieved. "Then you should go. That's all from me."
Back in the dormitory, Ginger wasn't there. She undid the Locking Charms on the wardrobe drawer and her backpack, took out the bag, and started packing: a windbreaker, over three hundred dollars in cash, over two hundred Galleons and assorted Sickles and Knuts, her wand, two daggers, a Taser, and two cans of pepper spray. For this holiday, she had decided to go to Britain to gather intelligence.
She had just finished packing when Ginger came in. "I was looking for you! Do you want to go to Nelson Town with me over the break? It's a magical town, and there's a No-Maj amusement park next to it."
"It depends. My uncle might take me back to Britain to visit the graves," she said, which was true, but only half the truth. If anyone wrote to her, her location wouldn't be given away. If someone who knew her situation heard about it, they would just assume she had more than one uncle.
"Oh my god, not now! Can't you explain about the magical world to your uncle?"
"As long as we don't go to London, it should be fine, right?" she said without changing her expression. "Besides, isn't You-Know-Who focused on the Boy Who Lived? He wouldn't just randomly go into the No-Maj world." Natasha, as if suddenly remembering, turned to Ginger and said, "Don't send Christmas gifts by mail. Just give them to me when term starts. Otherwise, C.C. would have to fly all the way to Britain." C.C. was Ginger's owl.
Yes, the stable communication method wizards used to this day was sending letters by owl.
"Alright, but you have to bring me back a Christmas gift from Britain! By the way, why don't you get a pet?"
A pet? She liked cats and dogs, and had no aversion to owls. But years of life experience had made her afraid to take responsibility for any living creature. When she was in a good mood, keeping a potted plant at the Avengers Compound was enough. Pets? Not only did she go on missions frequently, but there was also the risk of death. How could she take that responsibility?
But it's different now. A voice inside her said. That's right. It's not like before anymore.
Natasha shouldered her backpack and went out with Ginger. "I'll think about it. I might want to get a cat."
"Right? I think we in Wampus house should keep Wampuses. Too bad they're XXXXX-class magical creatures. Even with a breeding permit, they can't be tamed. Oh, right!" She got more excited as she spoke. "Get a half-breed cat! Kneazle hybrids don't require a permit and are super smart!"
Natasha filed this information away and nodded. "I'll look into it when I get a chance." After surrendering her wand and registering at the entrance, the two walked out of the castle to the school bus gathering point.
"Westbound buses are blue! Those going to the other three directions take the magenta one! Don't get on the wrong bus!" the school administrator, Joris Lin, said with a Sonorus charm.
"Well, I'm off then," Natasha pointed to the bus that was entirely berry-red and looked no different from a ordinary coach. "New York." She was on the southbound bus.
"Ah, okay," Ginger sighed. Her family's immigration history wasn't that long, but for some reason, they had settled in Orlando, in the southwest. "That guy Riley is going to Kansas. If I get on now, I'll definitely be on the same bus as him." Ilvermorny was located almost at the easternmost point of North America, so there was only one magenta bus, but three blue ones.
Natasha comforted her. "Didn't you say the school bus is very fast? Just endure it for a little while."
"You don't understand! Every minute with Riley feels like an hour!" Just then, she saw a familiar figure coming out of the castle. Ginger slapped her forehead. "He's here. A漫长的 (long) fifteen hours ahead."
Natasha smiled helplessly. "Alright, I'm getting on then."
"Wait! Don't go shopping for magical creatures on Congress Avenue! It's too expensive there! You can go to Williamstown when term starts. There's a magical town there too, with a magical creature store!"
Ginger's shouts followed her as she walked to the bus door. Natasha turned back and responded in a slightly louder voice, "I know!" She raised her arm and waved, then turned and stepped onto the bus.
The bus interior was enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, which she understood was a very difficult spell. The area was about four times that of a normal bus. Except for the central aisle, the rest was divided into compartments of varying sizes. The compartment doors were labeled [Maine - Portland], [Massachusetts - Boston], etc. Natasha found [New York - New York] and walked in.
"Oh, hey," someone was already inside the compartment. The seats were two sets of facing double seats. "Want to sit together?" asked an Asian girl sitting by the window, who looked about two years older than her.
"Hello, I'm a first-year..."
"I know," the Asian girl interrupted. "Natalie Rushman, Wampus house." Then she added, "Because of the Sorting, everyone knows your name."
This might not be a good thing. She should consider changing her identity after graduating from this school.
"I'm Kelly Liu, Thunderbird, third year. I'm going to Manhattan. You?"
"Brooklyn."
Soon, another boy and girl entered the compartment. Natasha roughly understood the school bus compartment rule: precise compartments by State - City, with the number of seats likely adjusting based on passenger numbers.
Beep beep. The bus honked twice and started. Natasha watched out the window carefully and found the passing scenery was already a blur of flashing light.
"It's fast," Kelly said, seeing the surprise in her eyes. "Maybe... three to five minutes?"
"New Hampshire, Manchester." Kelly spoke at the same time as the driver's voice rang throughout the bus.
Natasha mentally ran through a map of the United States and realized a journey that should have taken nearly three hours was shortened to mere seconds. The scenery outside the window froze, then switched like slides, yet the bus itself didn't seem to move.
The other boy in the compartment also offered an explanation. "You can think of it as a form of Apparition attached to a vehicle. The school bus is a alchemical object. Right now, it's switching between districts."
Magic. Whether it was perfectly smooth supersonic travel or imperceptible location switching. This world wasn't so bad.
"New York, New York." Just as Kelly had said, less than five minutes had passed since departure. Natasha took off her school robes, put them in her bag, and took out her windbreaker. She was wearing a khaki sweater and jeans under her robes; she could just put the windbreaker on after getting off.
The four of them left the compartment together and waited by the door.
"Manhattan."
"Bye," Kelly said, turning back. Natasha waved at her.
The bus door closed and opened again. "Queens." The boy got off.
"Brooklyn." Natasha smiled at the remaining girl and turned to get off the bus.
It was an empty alley. Natasha walked out and found herself in a small commercial area. She guessed the school bus stopped randomly at unmanned locations. There was a Walmart next to her. She put on her windbreaker and walked in.
Long time no see, world without magic.
Chapter 13: chapter 13: Diagon Alley
Summary:
i really made everything up
i dont own anything
Notes:
comment plz
Chapter Text
Eleven years old—the age where buying a fifty-dollar wool coat at Walmart would get you repeatedly asked, "Do your parents know?"
Ever since updating her mental database with [You-Know-Who], Natasha had been planning her trip to London. From whether to forge a passport or get a real one, to how to bypass the minor flight guardian requirement to buy a plane ticket, she had simulated every possible obstacle—and found no perfect solution.
Just as she decided to postpone the plan, unable to think of a foolproof method, the Prefect bringing the school bus ride application form to the common room gave her an idea—she was a witch, and she could use magical transportation.
Unfortunately, upon looking into it, she found it was still impossible. She couldn't risk buying a Portkey on the black market, nor could she gamble that any Portkey she bought would actually transport her to Britain. Likewise, she didn't trust that the Polyjuice Potion or Ageing Potion sold on the black market were safe and harmless.
"My first magical outburst as a child flipped all the desks in the entire classroom. Later, my uncle came and helped cast Confundus and Memory Charms," Ginger had said with some regret. "I never went back to that No-Maj elementary school after that. There was a classmate's birthday party the next day too."
Confundus Charm.
Natalia Romanova, you are a witch. She said to herself in her heart.
The problem that had troubled her for nearly three months was solved just like that, making her wonder if she had been overcomplicating everything.
Hiding the wand that had become increasingly ill-fitting since she got her own proper one up her sleeve, Natasha walked into the airport gripping it.
"Confundo."
"Miss, here is your ticket."
"Confundo."
"Approved." She passed the baggage security check.
"Confundo."
"Approved." The personal security check also went smoothly.
Filling out the customs declaration form, Natasha sat openly at the gate with her boarding pass, waiting to board. The消耗 (drain) from three consecutive Confundus Charms was significant. Leaning back in her seat with her eyes closed to rest, she habitually began to复盘 (review) the preparations for this operation.
Diagon Alley. Enter through the Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross Road. The intel came from Ginger—"I went to Diagon Alley when I was little! The ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour is super delicious!"
Currency. She had thought Britain would use a different currency, but the reality was quite the opposite: "I bet you didn't know, initially our common currency wasn't Galleons but Dragots. After the first Dark Lord Grindelwald was defeated, the Ministries of Magic in the US and UK began to establish closer ties. Later, due to some events, more and more wizards immigrated from Britain, and Dragots gradually faded from the history of the American wizarding world. Of course, in my opinion, the biggest reason is that Dragots are silver, and Galleons are gold—Galleons are worth more!" — from Magical History Professor Stellan Freud.
Disguise. Williard Kingston from Horned Serpent house, from an ancient pure-blood noble family, came to apologize to her over the trouble caused by Jane Foster. She seized the opportunity and spent twenty Galleons to buy a dozen vials of Ageing Potion from him.
"Flight AA101 to London is now boarding."
Natasha opened her eyes, feeling somewhat recovered from the physical fatigue. She walked to the check-in counter and showed her boarding pass. After the flight attendant confirmed it was okay, Natasha gave her a sweet smile: "Thank you." She had already switched to a perfect London accent.
"Would you like another orange juice?"
"This airplane model is for you."
No利益 (benefit), no early rise. A smile wasn't necessary, but it brought convenience and comfort. When deplaning, the flight attendant asked other passengers for understanding and let her disembark first. Without other passengers around, the drain from using the Confundus Charm was much smaller.
Six in the morning was a perfect time for travel. She passed through customs and security easily, took the Ageing Potion in the restroom, and a red-haired woman who looked to be in her early twenties walked out of the airport, hailed a taxi outside, and headed straight for Charing Cross Road.
"Sixty-five pounds, ma'am."
Damn it.
"Ma'am?" She had only considered wizarding currency and forgotten to exchange for pounds.
"Confundo."
Natasha briefly reflected on her mindset, changed into her slightly short school robes, walked directly into the Leaky Cauldron, and stood before the brick wall as Ginger had described.
"Tap the brick three times with your wand to see the entrance." She wasn't told which brick, but only one brick on the wall before her showed obvious signs of wear.
Third up, second across.
Tap. Tap. Tap. The stone wall parted in the middle, revealing an archway. Natasha hurried through and found an empty corner to wait for the Ageing Potion to wear off.
"Sir, I'd like to buy a wand."
Ollivander looked惊奇地 (surprisingly) at the red-haired, blue-eyed girl standing at his door. "You look unfamiliar. Not a Hogwarts student, are you?"
This man seemed to remember every student. Natasha improvised: "I was supposed to attend Hogwarts, but my aunt sent me to Durmstrang. Only my aunt and I are magical in our family," she complained like a petulant child. "She said Hogwarts wasn't safe, and my parents actually listened to her and sent me to Germany."
"Oh," Ollivander came down his ladder and walked over to the girl,打量着她 (looking her over). "Durmstrang. Interesting. Do they start learning Dark Magic from the first year there?"
Natasha smiled, avoiding the question. "My wand was given to me by my aunt. She went back to the Muggle world for university after graduating from Hogwarts, and pretty much never used magic again after she got married."
"Oh, I see why you need a new wand." Considering the girl's age, her aunt must have been part of the cohort that attended school during You-Know-Who's most rampant period. Most Muggle-born students from that time chose to stay away after graduation, with only a few exceptions like Lily Evans... Sigh. Thinking of this, Ollivander felt quite感触 (emotional). "Come now, child, let's see which wand suits you. Which is your wand hand?"
"I'm reasonably ambidextrous with both hands." She was a trained ambidextrous.
"Oh, a peculiar girl. Try this one first. Yew and Dragon Heartstring."
The same as her other wand. Natasha took it. "What should I do?"
"Just... cast any spell."
"Protego!"
"Wow, that's a fifth-year spell," Ollivander exclaimed. "A good wand for you, but not quite the best fit." He took the wand back from the girl, turned, stepped onto his ladder, and began searching again.
"Try this. Oak and Dragon Heartstring." "No, no, not good enough. Try this one, Dogwood and Phoenix feather." "No! No! Let's see... Redwood and... Thunderbird tail feather." "Hmm, very close, very close. Here, Cherrywood and Thestral tail hair."
Natasha took the wand from the old man. A tremor from her very soul connected her to the wand in her hand. She didn't even cast a spell; a stream of yellow magic surged from the wand tip and, like a ribbon, wrapped around her.
"This is..?" she asked, confused.
"Yes, yes! A most perfect combination! Cherrywood is a very rare wood, hailing from Japan. It is a wand that can make any core perform extraordinary feats, capable of producing miracles. At the Japanese wizarding school, Mahoutokoro, cherrywood wands hold special prestige. Of course, they are also very suited to the Dark Arts," Ollivander winked at her. "Thestral tail hair is a very sensitive and powerful core material, keenly attuned to its owner's emotions. It is said only a witch or wizard who has witnessed and comprehended death can truly master it. Eleven inches isn't overly long, but it is just right for you. You are destined for great things."
"Thank you," Natasha said calmly, accepting the result—Dark Magic and Death. "How much?"
"Seven Galleons for a first wand for a new student," Ollivander walked to the cash register. "But you're not a Hogwarts新生 (first-year). The school subsidized price is seven Galleons; the original price is thirteen."
Natasha paid, took her new wand, and walked out. Diagonally across was the sign for [Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour]. Her main objective for this trip was already accomplished, so she索性 (simply went over) and sat down in the shop, ordering a cherry ice cream.
The mix of sour and sweet was just right. At eight o'clock, it was still too early; she was the only customer. Sitting by the window, basking in the morning sunlight, Natasha眯起眼睛 (narrowed her eyes) contentedly.
Chapter Text
Did the Red Room's baby selection technology really have any guarantee?
She really wasn't growing taller. Taking the Ageing Potion again in an unmanned corner, Natasha measured the school robe that was now only four or five inches too short. She was probably only about 165 cm now…
After nine o'clock, a few pairs of wizards appeared on the streets of Diagon Alley, all wearing the same style of jacket with a medieval shield-shaped badge on their chests. Judging by their uniform wand-holding postures—Aurors. The word, only overheard in other students' chatter, flashed into her mind. Natasha took out the pocket watch she had just bought at the alchemy shop to check the time.
Yes, a pocket watch. She had just bought it at the alchemy shop. At Ilvermorny, for some unclear reason, even manually wound mechanical watches would gradually develop errors. She couldn't be bothered to correct her watch daily, and the price wasn't bad, so she bought it for three Galleons and four Sickles.
The hands pointed to nine. Her innate sense of the passage of time was still accurate.
So... Aurors started work at 9 a.m.? Before that, lawbreakers had absolutely nothing to worry about? Marveling at the "impressive" security maintenance, Natasha wrapped a scarf around her face to cover it and walked into the Magical Menagerie.
She had thought about an owl later. For now, she had no need to send or receive letters. An ordinary person keeping an owl as a pet was too conspicuous, and it would be troublesome to care for after leaving school, so she ruled it out for now. As for what Ginger mentioned, a cat with Kneazle blood.
"Do you have any cats with Kneazle blood here?" Even though the blue contacts and Ageing Potion would prevent anyone from linking Natalie to her, Natasha still habitually disguised her voice.
"One moment," a female shop assistant squeezed out from between the dazzling array of cages in the inner part of the shop. "Sorry, what did you say just now?"
Natasha put on a strong French accent: "A cat with Kneazle blood."
"Again?" the assistant muttered. This summer, a bunch of students who already had pets had inexplicably come asking for half-Kneazle cats. She couldn't figure out why. "We have two. One has a quarter Kneazle blood, the other is from a quarter-blood and an eighth-blood Kneazle cross." So many people asked during the summer, but no one bought any after we actually stocked them. The assistant cursed internally, thinking this French person had better actually buy one.
"May I see them?"
"Of course," Mademoiselle, the assistant rolled her eyes behind her back and squeezed back through the cramped cages. "Please follow me."
Natasha raised her arms to follow but still inevitably brushed against several cages, eliciting cries from various unknown creatures.
"There, here they are," the assistant said grumpily.
In two large cages placed side by side sat two cats, both orange with brown tabby patterns. If she had to compare, the one on the left had larger ears and more crowded facial features. The one on the right looked completely like an ordinary Maine Coon.
The cages were too big; only two could fit. The aisle space here was a bit larger than outside. Natasha nimbly绕过 (circled around) the woman and slowly蹲下 (crouched) in front of the right cage. "Kitty."
A curled-up mass occupying only a quarter of the cage stretched awake at the sound, its body extending diagonally to connect two corners of the cage. Natasha immediately understood why the cage was so large.
"Meow?" The cat made eye contact with her and meowed in response.
"Do you want to be my cat?" A human attempting to make a cat understand a long sentence. She thought she might be going mad.
But this was a magical creature. Natasha watched as it rolled over, stood up, and awkwardly pressed itself against the bars of the cage in her direction, rubbing slowly.
This one. "I'll take it," Natasha stood up, making the most impulsive decision of both her lifetimes.
The assistant's attitude did a complete one-eighty. She squeezed behind the cash register, beaming. "That will be thirty Galleons. We'll also throw in a bag of dried mice and a small bag of venison jerky."
Holding a cat in her arms and a bag of jerky hanging from her arm, walking out of the Magical Menagerie, Natasha felt as if she had just woken from a dream. A kitten larger than an ordinary adult cat—how was she going to get it back to America?
But she had already bought it. They said this type of cat wouldn't change owners once it had chosen one. Anyway, it was still early before term started; she would think of a way.
"You need a name."
"Meow?" The cat in her arms looked up and responded, as if it really understood.
Maybe it really did understand. She smiled. "How about just Kitty?"
"Meowr!"
"Kitty?"
"Meowr!"
So it really could understand. Looking at the little girl in her arms, Natasha smiled again. She buried her face in Kitty's belly and gently nuzzled it.
In the end, the intelligence gathering was left unfinished. The pair found a seemingly old but magically expanded suitcase with even more space at a second-hand shop next to the Magical Menagerie. Then they went to Flourish and Blotts at the north end of the alley and bought the entire past year's worth of the Daily Prophet in bulk (Shop Manager: The French have peculiar tastes). They顺便 (took the opportunity to) browse the neighboring Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and bought one self-ironing and one self-repairing robe each. Calculating that the Ageing Potion was about to wear off, Natasha put everything into the suitcase, held Kitty, picked up the case, and walked straight past the stationed Aurors with her eyes forward, only letting her guard down after completely exiting the Leaky Cauldron.
Luckily, a taxi passed by moments later. Natasha got in, and within two minutes, she had shrunk back into an eleven-year-old girl of only 150 cm. She used another Confundus Charm on the driver, had him drive a bit further, and then got out.
"Meowr?" Kitty couldn't understand why her owner had suddenly shrunk, but her scent hadn't changed, so it was still her owner.
"Well, Kitty," Natasha smoothed her long fur, "let's find a place to kill some time first. We'll do something interesting tonight."
Something interesting, not specified but including robbery. Natasha took out the over four hundred pounds from the wallet she'd acquired and tossed the wallet with its checkbook inside away casually. She'd taken it from a man who was selling nicotine patches to a minor.
"Alright, now we can find a hotel."
The concept of "pet-friendly" hadn't really taken off yet. Chain hotels were never an option. After being turned down by three B&Bs (Bed and Breakfasts) in a row, the landlady of the fourth one opened her door with a kind smile to let her and Kitty in. "Dear, you have a very lovely cat."
Natasha was glad she didn't have to hit this elderly woman with a Confundus Charm. "Thank you for your generosity." She switched back to her London accent.
"Meow." A small cat heard the noise and came out into the room—two mackerel tabbies and one blue cat.
"Oh, you keep cats too."
"Yes," the landlady bent down and picked up one of the tabbies, holding it in her arms. "This is Slash, the other is Dot, and the blue one is called Dollar."
"Are you an accountant?"
"I was, once. Clever girl. I still have half a shepherd's pie left. Why don't you come sit and tell me your story?"
Paired with a savory shepherd's pie, Natasha told the story of a middle-class family's youngest daughter who, wanting to try independence, had presented a plan via slideshow to her family, gained their agreement, and was now experiencing staying away from home—all of two blocks away—with her cat.
"Oh." The old lady clutched her heart.
Right. She thought the story was adorable too, completely unlike the cover stories she usually employed.
"Meow." Even more adorable, Kitty circled at her feet. She reached down her hand for her to rub against.
Chapter 15: chapter15: Christmas holiday
Notes:
comment anything！
Chapter Text
"Meowr."
Natasha kept her eyes closed, lazily reaching out to scoop up Kitty, whose tail was constantly brushing against her cheek, and pulled her into her arms. "Good morning, Kitty." Her natural voice had a slightly gravelly texture to it, her accent a blend of American English and Russian pronunciation.
"Meowr." A tail thumped against her abdomen.
"Little troublemaker." Natasha laughed, opening her eyes and sitting up.
Today was the day she returned to America.
Her intelligence gathering on You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters had stalled at the Daily Prophet's reports of the Minister for Magic slandering Dumbledore and Harry Potter. It seemed even in the wizarding world, politicians couldn't escape hypocrisy and deceit. The only potentially useful information came from a magazine called The Quibbler, with lines like "The light attempts to shroud the truth with lies, but they cannot forever blot out the sun"—these implied, almost chanted, hints. Natasha abandoned official channels and instead found Knockturn Alley. Britain's street for the Dark Arts, accessible directly from the end of Diagon Alley. The收获 (haul) wasn't huge, but she bought a few interesting Dark objects from a shop called Borgin and Burkes and managed to acquire two books on Dark Magic from a second-hand stall.
She had come alone but was returning with a cat. She had initially considered taking a ship; she could just cast a Disillusionment Charm on Kitty and have her find an opportunity to sneak aboard. But the journey took five and a half days;相比之下 (by comparison), a plane was much more efficient. She had heard there were Undetectable Extension containers used for cargo. Natasha tried searching Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, but even as her supply of Ageing Potion dwindled to just enough for the return trip, she couldn't find one. In the end, she had to buy a large backpacking rucksack, lining the bottom with two layers of soft blankets to serve as Kitty's temporary carrier.
Back in New York, stepping out of the airport, she难得感叹 (rarely found herself感慨 [sighing with emotion])—her proficiency with the Confundus Charm had improved dramatically in a short time.
"Meow." Kitty finally poked her head out of the travel bag and meowed at her owner.
"Mhm, let's go." Carrying the travel bag on her front, Natasha got into a taxi with the Undetectably Extended suitcase. The Ageing Potion still had a little while left; she better get to Brooklyn before it wore off—carrying Kitty while walking any distance was a bit too heavy for her eleven-year-old body.
"Keep the change." Natasha handed over a large bill for the taxi fare, carried Kitty to the apartment building she had rented under a Confused landlord, the effects of the potion wearing off just as she arrived.
"Alright, time to climb stairs with me." She tilted the travel bag opening to let Kitty climb out, then walked up to the fourth floor, carrying the bag in one hand and the suitcase in the other, and opened the door.
"Alohomora." She hardly carried keys anymore.
"Meow." Kitty began exploring the small apartment, less than two hundred square feet. Natasha watched her with a smile on her face.
Oh. She realized the problem.
"We should buy you some pet supplies."
Mrs. Shirley, who lived in the working-class neighborhood of Brooklyn, witnessed a peculiar scene: a red-haired girl walking a cat on a leash, complete with a pet harness, as if it were a dog.
In this era, non-service animals weren't allowed in supermarkets. Natasha had to leave Kitty at the counter, go in alone to pick out a pet harness, then put it on Kitty outside and ask for directions to the nearest pet store. Fortunately, pet stores did allow pets inside. The moment she entered, she saw a terrier. Natasha held back a hissing Kitty, looked up, and made eye contact with the dog's owner; they both smiled awkwardly.
"Doug, no," the woman said, squatting to restrain the eager dog. Natasha picked up Kitty and walked past them.
Passing the treat aisle, she stood before the supplies shelf and put Kitty down. "Alright, let's see which one you like."
Natasha ended up having to push a shopping cart to the checkout. A deep brown plush cat bed, a blue water bowl, an orange food dish, a toy with a bell, a modular small cat tree (Natasha: "I can't take this to school," Kitty: "Meow!")... Because the order was large and exceeded one hundred and fifty dollars, the store owner kindly offered delivery service. Natasha shot a glare at the cat sitting unapologetically on the floor, wrote the address on the delivery form, and only took the immediately needed water and food bowls with her as they walked back the same way.
"If I'd known having a cat would be this troublesome..." she said, just as Kitty jumped into her arms and started rubbing against her, melting away her irritation.
The expenses were too high. With current technology being so落后 (backward), her current identity offered no legal way to earn money. Maybe she should look into Ilvermorny's work-study program.
After a simple dinner and feeding Kitty the dried mice that came with her purchase, Natasha opened the suitcase to organize the收获 (spoils) from the past two weeks: British wizarding newspapers—a stack of the Daily Prophet, three issues of The Quibbler—put those on the bookshelf. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, the remaining six levels of Standard Book of Spells, Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts—take the second-year standard spells and defense books to school, skim through Fantastic Beasts tonight. A nameless book on Dark Magic and its original owner's notebook—look at this first later, find a way to encrypt and excerpt parts to take, in case the school pays her special attention. A cursed necklace—lock it in the drawer with its box... A Scottish cashmere scarf and a classic red telephone box model—oh, these are Christmas gifts for Ginger and the others.
The doorbell rang. Natasha waited until the delivery person left, then opened the door and brought the pet supplies inside one by one, instantly filling up most of the free floor space. Kitty walked over to the cat tree box, meowing incessantly to催促 (urge) her.
Natasha resigned herself to her fate, walked over, opened the box and packaging, and started assembling it according to the instructions.
After threading the cotton string through the hole in the top plank to secure the rattan ball, Kitty immediately stood on her hind legs and reached up to bat at it. Watching her play happily, Natasha walked to the small desk, sat down, and picked up the book and notebook she had left there earlier. Both had plain black leather covers. Black used to be the color she wore most often. Her fingers gently stroked the notebook's cover before she opened it to the title page: [For Lxxxx, Dark Magic is not always dark.]
The name was blacked out, only the first letter 'L' faintly discernible. She guessed it might be 'Louis'. Natasha continued flipping through. The notebook's owner was very methodical; each page was dedicated to a single Dark spell, followed by study notes: incantation pronunciation, optimal wand movement, casting tips, spell effects... The handwriting was clear and neat, the pressure of the pen neither too light nor too heavy—not what one might expect from a Dark wizard's script. There was too much content to read in detail now. She skimmed a few pages at a time, her eyes occasionally skipping over the spells to read the notes below.
[Unforgivable Curses] The writing in the notebook became increasingly潦草 (scrawled) as she turned the pages. By this page, it was barely legible, the pen strokes deep and almost piercing the parchment. Natasha briefly looked over the three curses, put the notebook down, and opened the Dark Magic book.
[As the most powerful magic, when you understand its essence, you will become the most powerful Dark wizard.] For a teenager whose worldview wasn't fully formed, this statement would be very attractive.
Who wouldn't want to become strong, to become a hero?
The girl who had once been a hero turned the title page without a second glance,开始寻找 (beginning to search) the table of contents for spells she might find useful. It's worth noting that in the Jinx category, she found the curse Jane Foster had tried to cast—"Densaugeo"—solving that long-standing mystery.
Imperius Curse, Cruciatus Curse, Killing Curse.
Three curses that couldn't be blocked by a Shield Charm. Natasha didn't attempt them rashly, merely memorizing their incantations and casting techniques.
Imperio, Crucio, Avada Kedavra.
Chapter 16: chapter 16: Homecoming
Notes:
comment anything
and if you read all of this from the very start，plz tell me how do you think of the grammar and vocabulary uses
Chapter Text
December 31st. The third round of talks between the White House and Congress over the budget had again ended without agreement. Over seven hundred thousand federal employees faced unpaid leave.
The face of a perfectly composed white female news anchor filled the television screen, reporting from outside the White House. Natasha sat in a single armchair, a tub of vanilla ice cream in her lap. Half-finished, she'd left the spoon sticking out of the container.
This kind of life... wasn't so bad.
Kitty lay in her cat bed, upper body stretched out onto the floor to bat at a toy ball. Natasha glanced over, then stood up and put the ice cream back in the freezer. "Feel like going out for a bit?" It was New Year's Eve.
As the final minutes of the year ticked down, the pair found themselves on the roof of their apartment building. From six stories up, looking towards Manhattan, colorful fireworks bloomed in the northwestern sky with a series of muffled, distant booms. "Happy New Year," she whispered, the words a soft sigh against Kitty's fur as she pulled the cat close.
The return trip to school was the same as the journey out: standing at a designated,偏僻无人的 (secluded and empty) spot at the appointed time, a twist of space, and the school bus door hissed open before her. This time, everyone's destination was Ilvermorny, resulting in a jostling crowd of students eager to disembark. With at least a hundred students on board, Natasha had no intention of waiting until last. She exited the compartment and let the crowd carry her out.
"He's back! You-Know-Who is back!" Ginger spotted her immediately in the waiting crowd, rushing over with a magazine clutched in her hand. "Look at this!" she hissed, her voice a blend of urgency and fear.
[THE BOY WHO LIVED, HARRY POTTER, EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW] Natasha's eyes scanned the text rapidly. She flipped to look at the cover. The Quibbler, as expected.
"My uncle says they're planning to recruit a new batch of trainee Aurors this spring, just in case You-Know-Who targets North America," Ginger looked genuinely worried, her usual brightness dimmed. "Do you think he really would...? But he's always been in Britain historically... though the first Dark Lord was here in America..."
"Relax," Natasha said, her voice calm and steady, placing a reassuring hand on her friend's shoulder. "We're safe here at school." She had tested the castle's perimeter herself once, encountering a powerful protective enchantment about five kilometers out—a dome-like shield similar to Wakanda's energy barrier, enveloping the entire grounds.
"No, you just don't underst— AAAAAH WHAT IS THAT!"
Natasha had just retrieved her suitcase from the bus's luggage compartment. She looked up, puzzled. "What is what?"
Ginger was pointing excitedly next to the compartment. There sat a woven cat bed, and curled up on its soft cushion was a cat. "You actually got one! AAAAAAH! Where did you find her? Britain? Does she have Kneazle blood? Does she? Does she?"
"Yes, yes, and yes," Natasha replied, a small, genuine smile touching her lips. Holding her suitcase in one hand, she gripped the edge of the cat bed with the other. Kitty leaped gracefully from the cushion onto her shoulder. Making sure she had a firm hold on both the bed and the cushion, Natasha turned and fell into step with Ginger, joining the queue of students waiting to enter the castle.
"Wampus House, First Year, Natalie Rushman." She received her wand back from the attendant and walked over to rejoin her roommate.
Ginger's eyes were shining with unrestrained delight. "What's her name? Is she a he or a she? How old is she? What does she like? Does she eat dried mice?"
"Maybe we should wait until we're back in the dormitory?" Natasha suggested softly, aware of the curious glances Ginger's exuberance was attracting. She subtly swapped places with Ginger, leading the way toward their dorm.
"Wait for me!"
"Oh, you are just too adorable! So soft and fluffy and clever! Can you understand me? Do you like me? I'm your mum's best friend, so I'm basically your..." Ginger had plopped onto the floor, upper body draped over the foot of Natasha's bed. She twisted her head to look at Natasha. "What did Nancy call her aunt again? 'Sworn mother' or something?"
"Gān mā," Natasha supplied. "It means godmother, more or less. Just without the religion." Nancy Wang was the only Asian student in their first-year cohort.
"Ohhhh! Then I shall be your non-religious godmother! How does that sound, Kitty?"
"I think she's a bit tired," Natasha interjected gently. Ilvermorny's buses allowed small pets, but unfortunately, Kitty's size definitely exceeded the one-foot limit. "The pet compartment was quite stuffy. Let's give her some time to breathe some fresh air, okay?" She opened her suitcase and pulled out a wrapped package, hoping to distract Ginger.
"What's this?"
"A Christmas present."
"The wrapping is so pretty, thank you! Wait, I'll get yours for you in a sec."
Natasha smiled, watching as Ginger carefully peeled the tape from the edges of the wrapping paper instead of tearing it. She looked down and went back to unpacking. Books went onto the shelf, clothes into the wardrobe. Her new school robes had discreet inner pockets sewn in; she slipped the wand from the black-market vendor into one of them. The wand from Diagon Alley would stay in the suitcase for now.
"I love this scarf!" Ginger had finally opened the box. The red and green paper adorned with large Santa faces was neatly folded along its creases and set aside. She wrapped the scarf around her neck, modeling it, and picked up the red telephone box model. "Does it suit me? And what's this?"
"It's a sort of... iconic landmark? From the British No-Maj world. It's a telephone booth. You use it to..."
"I know! To make calls, right? My uncle has a No-Maj mobile phone. Did you know the British Ministry of Magic is entered through a phone box?!" Ginger cradled the palm-sized red model, utterly enchanted. "So this is what a British phone box looks like."
"Here's your Christmas present," she said, getting up and handing Natasha a small, jewelry-box-sized gift, still not putting down the phone box. "Oh, by the way, did you go to London? Riley said the owl his family uses to communicate with British wizards showed up when he was sending your gift. I think they only trade with wizards in London."
"No, the train might have passed through, I suppose," Natasha said smoothly, her tone light. "You know how slow No-Maj transportation can be." See? You can never be too careful.
"I knew it! Riley insisted on betting me. He owes me five Galleons now."
"Sounds like you two are getting along well," Natasha teased, deftly steering the conversation away.
A faint pink blush instantly spread across Ginger's cheeks. "Who's getting along with him! It's just that he refused to believe No-Majs have amusement parks bigger than the Château de Dôlores! I had to prove it, so I invited him to Disney World in Orlando. You have no idea! He goes on and on about how much he knows about No-Majs, but he didn't even know what they wear or use. He saw someone in a puffer jacket and asked why they'd used an Engorgement Charm on their clothes! And he asked if there was a person inside the vending machine operating it..."
The young girl's animated complaints were like cotton candy bubble gum—sweet, sticky, and full of airy fervor. Kitty, having endured the enthusiastic attention for as long as she could, finally padded to the dorm room door. She looked back at her owner, received a slight nod, and slipped out without a backward glance. Natasha's gaze drifted aimlessly around the room before finally settling on the magazine that had been tossed aside and forgotten on the floor.
The Quibbler. No surprises there. You-Know-Who had undoubtedly returned. Or perhaps he had never truly died in the first place.
Ginger's story continued to flow. As the girl's voice filled the room, detailing every minor annoyance of her trip with that infuriating boy, Natasha could almost picture the scene unfolding in her mind.
Wasn't that the very point of stories for young people?
The brave protagonist meets other boys and girls who become companions. Together, they overcome obstacles and advance, until finally they defeat the forces of evil and welcome the light once more.
Who hadn't dreamed of being a hero? Boys and girls like that read such stories, imagined themselves in those scenes, dreamed of having magic. She really should have stayed and read that storybook with Lila.
"...and later we went to the Château de Dôlores, the wizarding amusement park. They don't have pirate ships or roller coasters, but the Surprise Maze is really刺激 (thrilling)! It's a different layout every time you go in..."
If Lila could come here, she would have been over the moon with joy.
Chapter 17: chapter 17: Dreams
Notes:
ive made up the illvermorny map（is it called map？？
and hopefully i can upload it in a correct way
Chapter Text
"Hey, you do work out too?"
Her usual running route started from the main gate, went to the Quidditch pitch, and then turned back. It had snowed last night, and the grass and soil had turned soft and muddy under the积雪 (snow cover). Testing the footing, she decided to switch to the grassy field inside the castle grounds.
Ilvermorny had started as a single stone house, gradually expanding into a castle. The main tower was built first, followed by the gatehouse, making it different from traditional castles as its main tower connected directly to the gatehouse. The castle stood atop Mount Greylock. Connected to the gatehouse, a curved wall extended, with one end leading to the Magical Creature Reserve and the other to the Quidditch pitch. The edges of these grounds met the mountainside directly, and together with the wall, they encircled the entire castle.
The grassy field was used for flying lessons. Before the Quidditch pitch was built, Ilvermorny had never produced a player who participated in any official match.
"I woke up early, just wanted to kill some time," Natasha replied, stopping as the other person did, coming to a stand on the flagstone path surrounding the field.
"Is that so? I was hoping to invite you to run together," the boy said, sounding genuinely disappointed. His father was a No-Maj police officer, and growing up around that, he placed great importance on physical fitness. It was a shame so few in the wizarding world seemed to share that view.
"By the way, I'm Andrew. Andrew James. Nice to meet you, Natalie." With that, Andrew started running again.
Natasha said goodbye and pulled out her pocket watch to check the time. Past seven. She didn't return to the dorm, casting a quick Cleaning Charm on herself before heading straight to the Great Hall.
"Someone said they saw you running with that weirdo from Pukwudgie house," Ginger leaned over and asked the moment she sat down.
Natasha shrugged. "I had a nightmare. Needed to do something to shake it off." Maybe I should just keep running outside the walls next time.
"Oh, are you okay?" Ginger looked at her with concern, even putting down her beloved sorbet.
"I want my father." In the dream, a young Lila, whom she'd never seen, was crying, her voice choked with tears.
"I'm fine. Probably just stressed about the exams coming up," Natasha said, her voice a little tight. Those eyes. Full of hatred. She blinked hard, trying to dispel the haunting image from her mind.
Ginger, somewhat reassured, picked her sorbet back up. "Are No-Maj kids all scared of exams? Ilvermorny doesn't grade on a curve for excellence, and you're getting Outstandings across the board anyway, right?"
"It's nothing. First exam today is Charms, right?"
Ilvermorny didn't have midterms or finals; usually, professors decided the timing and content of their own quizzes. But typically, the times around holidays were favored by professors for scheduling them. Their first year had three exams today, only slightly better than the fourth years, who had all four of their classes examined.
"Yeah. I was afraid I'd hiccup while incanting, so I didn't even eat my fill," Ginger complained.
Riley opened his mouth with a ready sneer. "If you ate your fill, the kitchen staff would be worked to death."
"Hmph. The farm boy is only about 140 cm tall. Doesn't he like his family's cooking?"
"You!"
"You started it!"
The two started bickering again. Natasha put down her barely touched bread. "Alright, alright, let's just go."
The Charms exam was held with Horned Serpent house. The written paper wasn't too difficult, though a few people stared愁眉苦脸地 (glumly) at the content on the second page. The practical exam was the Unlocking Charm. The target was a box locked by the professor; passing just required the lock to click open after the spell.
"Alohomora." She reached out to flip the latch, only to see it spring open on its own.
"Very good," Laughlin praised. Natasha returned to her seat, hearing a soft, derisive laugh from Jane Foster sitting diagonally behind her.
"Alohomora." Not only did the latch spring open, but the lid also automatically lifted a crack.
Laughlin applauded. "Absolutely perfect. For a first year, it couldn't be better."
"Thank you, Professor," Jane said, lifting her chin and casting a sidelong glance in a certain direction, only to find that person staring into space, not looking at her at all. Infuriating. She swept down from the platform like a whirlwind, letting out an even louder "Hmph!" as she passed that person's desk.
The kind Herbology professor let the exam-wilted students sun themselves in the greenhouse for the entire lesson, occasionally plucking a leaf from a nearby plant for everyone to identify.
Due to first-year students' unstable magic, Defence Against the Dark Arts had no practical exam. But being a crucial subject, even first years had to sit a written test on defensive theory that filled three whole sheets of parchment.
The Transfiguration exam required turning a matchbox into a quill. Natasha managed to transfigure something with a sharp shaft—one could call it a dip pen quill if they were being generous... it wasn't exactly wrong. Looking around at the others' desks: quills without fletching, quills with just the nib, half a matchbox still attached to a nib... Good enough. She raised her hand to submit her quill, not waiting for Ginger and Riley.
"Why couldn't it have been you who died?" The dream had no sound, yet she felt Lila's voice ringing in her ears. Coming back to her senses at the staircase, Natasha turned and took the spiral stairs connected to the Astronomy Tower downward.
There was a step that protruded slightly at the halfway point between the first and second floors. Lifting it from the side revealed a hidden door. She opened it and stepped out, facing the开阔的 (vast expanse of) mountain peaks and forest, and took a deep, deep breath.
Dreams. She had all sorts of dreams, bizarre and fantastical.
Extremis virus developed by Stark to version 3.0, an entire city descending into a den of iniquity; Rogers and Rumlow passing the scepter in an elevator, Rogers muttering "Hail Hydra"; Barnes being her instructor in the Red Room, and later, her falling in love with him...
None had been like this one. A chill, colder than the weather, crept up from the soles of her feet, freezing her brain solid, leaving her unable to think.
Clint lay at the bottom of the cliff, an endless expanse of deep purple as far as the eye could see.
She supposed she was afraid of death. But she was more afraid of failing to die.
The sense of unease that had taken root in her heart persisted right up to the Easter break. While most students chose to stay at school to tackle the mountain of accumulated homework, Natasha entrusted Kitty to Ginger, shouldered her backpack, and stepped off the school bus.
She only knew one person who would set up a safe house in the Bronx.
"You have got to be kidding me."
"No, no, the most dangerous place is the safest place. Anyone who goes in will only find layer upon layer of traces left by thieves. Who was originally in this house, what they did—no one can ever know."
The night was deep, but the streets were still teeming with all sorts of people. Natasha pressed herself against the wall, melting into the shadows, grabbed onto a rusty pipe bracket, and climbed up to the fourth floor. Using the Unlocking Charm, she opened the window, pulled it up, and slipped inside.
"Lumos."
Footprints of thieves. Signs of the place being ransacked. Shattered cup fragments, smashed in anger by a thief who found nothing...
Ha. A laugh of 释然 (bittersweet relief) escaped her, tears tracing paths down her cheeks as her facial muscles contorted.
She truly had no idea what he had done.
Locking the window from the inside, she伪造了 (faked) signs of a break-in from the inside and walked down the stairs.
On the second floor, a man in a hoodie reeking of marijuana came up the stairs. Natasha moved aside to avoid him, but he stopped in his tracks after getting a clear look at her face. "Hey there, little girl. How about you let me—"
"You should go upstairs. Now."
Thump. Thump. Thump. Her heart hammered violently against her ribs, threatening to break free.
"Otherwise, I can't promise what I might do to you." Clint Barton waved his arm to activate the motion-sensor light, sidestepped the man in the hoodie, and offered the girl on the stairs a reassuring smile.
Chapter 18: chapter 18: Clint Barton, a good guy.
Summary:
Nice to see you clint
Notes:
Just because Clint is in this and previous chapter, am I allowed to add the character tag??
I really wish for more hits.. I’m going to add it first
Chapter Text
"No way, you'd choose this..." the man looked Clint up and down, pausing for effect, "...midget over me?"
Midget. Natasha couldn't help but freeze for a split second.
The next moment, the man was laid out by a punch from the very "midget" he'd just insulted, followed swiftly by a sharp chop to the neck that rendered him unconscious.
"Alright, so maybe I'm a little short, but it's enough for me," Clint said, tossing the man onto the landing between the second and first floors, his voice soft, trying to reassure her again.
She wanted to run. Every cell in her body screamed at her to flee. Natasha fought against the instinct, standing utterly still and silent.
"You look... were you crying?" Afraid that approaching might scare her, Clint took two steps down the staircase. "Don't be afraid. I'm not going to do anything to you." He paused, realizing how that sounded, and rephrased awkwardly, "Uh... I mean, I'm one of the good guys. Really."
The large man and the small girl sat in a McDonald's.
Maybe I don't want a daughter after all. Maybe a boy for the first kid is better. Looking at the girl across from him with her puffy eyelids, Clint was swamped again by that helpless feeling he'd had on the stairs, watching her silent tears fall no matter what he asked.
Yeah. A son first. Get some parenting experience before trying for a daughter. He clenched a fist under the table, giving himself a mental pep talk.
If Natasha could have read his mind, she might have drawn her wand and hit him with a Obliviate right then and there before walking away without a backward glance.
‘I was looking for my mom,’ Natasha finally decided, using sign language.
Clint started, then quickly signed back, ‘You’re Deaf? Did you find her? Are there other adults in your family?’
‘Just me and my mom. She…’ Natasha bit her lip. ‘…she smokes pot. I know she always comes here to buy it, but today was different. It’s the middle of the night, and she still isn’t back.’
‘You’re just a kid!’ Clint’s face was a mask of concern. ‘No matter what, you shouldn’t be out alone at this hour!’ A more pressing question occurred to him: ‘Do you live in this neighborhood? What elementary school do you go to?’
‘I… I’m always with my mom. I don’t go to school.’ She hadn’t done prior reconnaissance; she only knew the address of his safe house.
Oh, god. A stream of curses ran through Clint’s mind. ‘Do you need help? I can—’
Natasha reacted vehemently. ‘No! No! My mom needs me. She’s good to me, she loves me. Please don’t call community services.’
‘Okay, I won’t call them. What’s your name?’
Natasha signed the letters ‘N-A-T.’
“Nat? Short for Natasha?” Clint asked aloud.
‘Just Nat,’ she signed back.
‘Okay, Nat. Can you tell me your mom’s name?’
An Obliviate done poorly could cause memory damage; other spells would expose her to S.H.I.E.L.D. too early. Pretending to refuse to answer, Natasha searched for a perfect solution.
‘There! My mom’s car!’ A van chose that exact moment to drive past. Natasha let out a hoarse, guttural sound—"Aah! Aah!"—and shot up from her seat, making a dash for the door.
"Kid!" Clint stopped her, recalling the van he’d just seen. The windows were up; he couldn’t confirm if the girl’s mother was the driver. Damn it. He remembered her wording earlier: "Mom didn't come back," not "didn't come home." This mother and daughter might be living in that van.
"Will you wait here for me?" Holding the girl gently by the shoulders, Clint knelt down to look her directly in the eyes. "I'll go find your mom for you." He’d caught the license plate. "Just... stay right here. Don't go anywhere, okay?"
Using the last of her manufactured tears to good effect, Natasha let her eyes well up, looking into those grey-blue ones, and gave a small, hesitant nod.
The moment he disappeared from view, Natasha swiftly exited the McDonald's, melted into the shadows of the buildings, cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself, and hurried away in the opposite direction.
The restless anxiety that had been gnawing at her heart vanished, replaced by a sense of grounding deeper than before. It had been risky, extremely so, but worth it. She would never regret making this trip.
The next day, when Ginger woke up, she was surprised to find her roommate, who had only entrusted the cat to her yesterday afternoon, already sitting at her desk, furiously catching up on homework. "I thought you went home?" she asked.
"Parental issues," Natasha said without looking up, her voice flat. "They went on a trip without telling me first."
"Speaking of which, you still don't have an owl. Wanna bet a letter from Riley asking about the homework will arrive any minute now?"
"The school sets up an owlery for a reason. My letter-sending frequency doesn't warrant getting one."
"You could buy one for your family, though. Then you wouldn't have had to make a wasted trip like today."
"No. I've decided I won't leave campus for Easter break ever again."
"Suit yourself. Hey, want to go to the common room to do homework? We can get some guy to pass a message to Riley, save him the trouble of mailing you."
"Let's go."
The Wampus common room was a perfect hexagon. The main entrance was flanked by the doors to the boys' and girls' dormitories. The other three walls each had a long sofa against them. A large hexagonal low table stood in the center, surrounded by a dozen beanbags, though everyone still preferred sitting directly on the soft carpet. Sitting cross-legged on the floor in groups of two or three made it easy to collaborate on homework.
"For Herbology, we need to list at least three potions you can make from each herb. For Potions, we need to list at least three herbs used in the ingredients of potions. My god, did Professors Brown and Allen plan this together?" Emmett Allen was the Potions professor.
Natasha opened Magical Drafts and Potions. "Look at the potions first. Work backward to the herbs; then you only need to list two for each." It was the most time-efficient method.
Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology, Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Astronomy. Even Astronomy, which never assigned homework, required drawing a planetary trajectory chart. Only Flying was exempt.
Natasha's essays never dipped below an 'E,' earning her Ginger's complete trust. So the moment she spoke, Ginger followed suit, opening her potions book. Two other first-years sitting diagonally across from them did the same.
"I can't take it! What potion uses more than three herbs? Do standard ingredient kits even count as potions?" Ginger was on the verge of tears. one of the younger Wampuses quietly scooted over. "They do. Professor Allen said if you really can't find any, listing standard ingredient kits will pass." After all, standard kits contained herbal components.
"Patience," Natasha said, writing [Confusing Concoction] and [Befuddlement Draft] on her parchment. "Keep looking." She was taking a slight liberty; these two potions were separated by twenty pages but were essentially the same thing, one a potion and one a draft.
She listed three potions that used three herbs each. Putting her parchment away, she saw the other three were still flipping through their books. "Berries count as herbs too. Anything harvested by cultivation is considered one."
One person had a sudden epiphany and flipped back through the pages. Another frowned and looked at her pleadingly.
"Page forty-nine," Natasha said, shaking her head and giving the answer directly.
With little else to do, Natasha dedicated her time, aside from her morning physical training, entirely to homework. Finishing everything left her with nine whole days of假期 (break) remaining. After some thought, she went to the bulletin board by the Great Hall entrance and took a work-study application form for the kitchens.
[Work-Study Program] Kitchens seeking Prep Assistant. Primary duties involve assisting the Prep Cook with sorting and organizing ingredients. No experience necessary. Proficiency with household charms preferred. Work hours: 8:00 PM - 9:00 PM daily. Weekly wage: 8 Galleons, 4 Sickles. Requirements:
1. Applicant must be a currently enrolled student.
2. Applicant's previous semester evaluation must contain no grade below 'A' (Acceptable).
3. Applicant must NOT be a 5th or 7th year student.
Filling it out with the quill she’d brought, Natasha took the application to the kitchen prep area. The vast kitchen employed only five staff: one procurer, three cooks, and one prep cook.
"See the ovens and stoves? Including all the pots and pans here, they're all alchemical items. You can input cooking spells for them to save and execute automatically. Prep work can also be done entirely with magic, but magical output affects the freshness and taste of ingredients, so we need manual logging of ordered ingredient types and sorting. But don't worry, the moving is still done by magic. You just need to fill out the category labels."
She passed the interview and started work that very night, thus beginning her new routine of chanting spells at labels on crates of ingredients every evening.
Chapter 19: chapter 19: This is how no-maj do it
Summary:
She definitely deserves normal childhood
Tried gave some of it(kinda) and tried my best not to be ooc
Hope it’s fine
Notes:
I’ve got 2kudos!! Thank you! And leave any comments if you want!
Chapter Text
Natalie and Natasha.
The outcome of chasing down that van had been the arrest of a drug dealer. Reporting on the mission, he'd been teased, "Maybe you should go undercover at the FBI." Thinking of that now, Clint Barton brought his hands to his face, rubbing his temples in a gesture of sheer, weary frustration.
The Bronx had over four hundred Natalies and more than two hundred Natashas. Of those, eighty-nine were between the ages of ten and fourteen.
While pulling the data, he was asked again, "Sure you don't want to go undercover in the police system?" This time, they were probably serious. Clint raised his hands in mock surrender, saying, "Give me a break," and later, under his girlfriend Laura's curious gaze, confessed the whole story.
"Sweetheart, it's pretty telling," Laura said gently. A girl, just over ten years old, in the Bronx in the dead of night.
"Either she's a baby spy targeting your safe house, or..." Laura swallowed the other, more sordid but more plausible guess.
Slamming the files on Natalies and Natashas onto the table, Clint's voice was thick with emotion. "I know what you're thinking, but no. Not that. The kid was clean, but her clothes and bag were worn. Her sign language... she had to use it regularly to be that fluent. And... and..." That look in her eyes—the look of someone who had seen too much and barely made it back—he couldn't be mistaken about that.
"I don't think she was lying to me." At least not about her name.
Laura sighed, her expression softening with无奈 (resigned affection). "Alright, I'll help you keep an eye out for any 'Nat' related info from the Bronx. Any other details?"
"Red hair. Wearing blue contacts—so definitely not blue eyes naturally. Looked maybe Russian descent."
She stopped having those strange dreams.
Waving her wand over the labels, selecting 【Potato】, 【Brisket】, or 【Spinach】, Natasha yawned, just as the prep cook turned around and noticed.
"Just the last row of crates left. You can head back early if you want," Tess Miller said, her eyes crinkling with慈爱 (kindness) as she looked at the young girl.
She had been sleeping well lately. Every night, after returning to the dorm and washing up, she would fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, dreamless until morning.
Natasha waved her wand, activating the magic on the next label. "Eggs." The tag on the prep crate flashed through a series of ingredient names before settling on 【Eggs】. "It's fine, I can finish up," she gave the prep cook a small, tired smile. "No-Majs have a theory that people yawn because their brains are缺氧 (lacking oxygen). Fatigue or indigestion can cause it. I ate too much at dinner. Moving around a bit longer might actually help."
Tess gave up trying to understand the No-Maj theory, relieved to see she didn't seem overly tired. "Then I'll start marking from the other side. You start here. We'll knock these out in five minutes."
She hadn't thought much about it when applying for this job, but doing it revealed the staggering scale of Ilvermorny's consumption. With fewer than a thousand students, staff, and faculty, nearly a medium-sized truckload of ingredients arrived daily through the transport gateway.
She'd seen the procurement list once. Even with vegetables and fruits coming from the school's own farms, the procurement of meat, eggs, dairy, and staples exceeded a ton.
Without charging tuition or boarding fees, how did Ilvermorny generate revenue? She took this question back with her and found her answer the next day in the common room.
"Ilvermorny is funded by the MACUSA, partly by the Board of Governors, and we have permits for magical creature breeding and rearing—those are the big three. Besides that," Riley explained knowledgeably, "the greenhouses growing medicinal herbs bring in revenue. And where do you think all the pre-cut herbs and successfully brewed potions from class end up? Student skill stabilizes by third year. The output is collected and funnels into the lower market."
"Board of Governors?"
"Oh, it's mostly a titular role. They get to vote occasionally when the school changes policies or something," Riley shrugged.
Ginger finally finished her last assignment, capping her inkwell. "Pfft. You only know all this because your dad's a Governor."
"So what? All the wheat and rice used at Ilvermorny comes from my family's farms!"
Natasha shook her head at the bewildered first-year Wampuses in the common room. "It's alright. They're always like this. You'll get used to it."
欢喜冤家 (A quarrelsome loving couple).
Watching the two standing before her, Natasha thought to herself.
"Come on, come on, you have to come!"
Both of them wanted to go to Disney again this summer. Having reached an agreement, they were now determined to drag her along.
"Disneyland in California is the very first Disney park in the world! You absolutely have to see it!"
"You do realize New York and Los Angeles are practically on opposite ends of the country, right?"
"We can take that thing... airplay!"
"It's airplane... And I have Kitty to look after."
"Leave her at my place! The farm's full of animals to keep her company."
"It's 'her,' okay?"
The summer before their second year at magic school, Natasha, Ginger, Riley, and Ginger's uncle found themselves standing under the blazing sun before a pink-and-blue fairy-tale castle.
"The owners of the Château de Dôlores really should take notes from Disney," Ginger said, adjusting a Mickey Mouse ear headband on her own head while enthusiastically picking one out for Natasha. "When I was six and went to the Château, they gave out a sticker that played music. Now I'm eleven, and it's still the same castle-shaped sticker, they haven't even changed the tune!"
"You have to buy these headbands. Are you sure you exchanged enough dollars?"
"Absolutely! I got all Exceeds Expectations this term. Dad exchanged a hundred Galleons for me. What about you? How much did you bring?"
Riley, hands in the pockets of his denim shorts, said casually, "About the same as you. Eight hundred bucks."
They spoke as if discussing the weather, and even Ginger's uncle Mike, a MACUSA employee, stood by listening, finding it completely unremarkable.
Noticing the increasingly frequent glances directed their way from people behind them, Natasha took a deep breath, interrupted Ginger's endless deliberating, grabbed a Winnie the Pooh headband, and said, "Let's go, let's go, let's pay and get moving."
She must have been out of her mind to agree to this.
"Hey, listen," Riley whispered conspiratorially in her ear, as if sharing a monumental secret. "These animatronics? There are No-Majs inside controlling them."
Ginger didn't need to hear to know what was happening. "Are you an idiot? She is a No-Maj, she probably already knows!"
Listening to them casually drop "No-Maj" into conversation like it was "nice weather," and seeing Uncle Mike's complete lack of reaction, she was convinced she had profoundly misunderstood the International Statute of Secrecy.
"Let go." They were in line for Pirates of the Caribbean when Natasha's hand shot out, lightning-fast, and clamped down on a wrist sneaking into Ginger's Mickey Mouse crossbody bag.
"What's.. Ah!" Ginger turned at the commotion and jumped back, startled by the thief's凶狠的 (vicious) glare.
"Mike!" Natasha spoke first, stopping him from reaching for his wand.
More people looked over at Ginger's cry. The crowd in the queue formed a small circle around the five of them.
"He's a thief! He tried to steal from my sister!"
Gasps erupted. People began checking their own belongings. The man, seeing his chance gone, shot the group a hateful look and melted into the crowd amidst the confusion.
Zipping up Ginger's bag for her, Natasha shrugged at Mike. "See? This is how no-maj do it."
Chapter 20: chapter 20: Summer Holiday
Summary:
time past fast right？
Notes:
Idk how you guys think about stories at illvermorny that I’m basically making up everything
I’m thinking of turn the time even faster so Natasha could take down the red house and meet her sister asap
Chapter Text
It wasn't an illusion. Her wand was growing darker.
Dipping the chamois cloth that came with the wand into the保养油 (conditioning oil), she began polishing from the base in small, careful circles, moving upwards. At the tip, she applied lighter pressure to avoid any excess oil residue. After her routine maintenance, Natasha held the wooden wand in her hand, examining it closely.
From top to bottom, it was a smooth, needle-like shape. The handle resembled the neck of a slender vase, curving inward before swelling slightly at the base like a teardrop. But the most striking thing was its color.
"Cherrywood oxidizes to a red hue over time. When I finished this one, it was still a very bright yellow," Ollivander had said in his shop, holding the reddish-brown wand.
Now, the wand that had been reddish-brown when purchased looked as red as blood.
Recalling the yew wand she'd turned in before leaving school, it hadn't seemed to change. Though there were no issues with spellcasting, perhaps she should find an opportunity to ask why this was happening, and顺便 (while she was at it) visit Diagon Alley again. Raising her wrist, she twirled the wand and cast a Patronus Charm, watching a faint, wispy white mist escape the tip. The thought crossed her mind.
[Rampant Death Eaters – The Brockdale Bridge]
The Quibbler. The定位 (positioning/niche) of this magazine remained hard to define. Natasha had seen more than one exposé on You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters within its pages, but she'd also frequently seen fantastical claims about magical creatures that, upon checking the school library, turned out to be utterly non-existent.
Strange British wizards. [Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes]. She was getting used to the British wizarding world's lack of a middle ground—its style forever oscillating between two extremes:要么是 (either) gasp-inducing, extreme confessionals, or 要么是 (or) cringe-worthy, extreme absurdity that left one speechless.
She hadn't noticed this shop last time. Natasha went in for a quick look, finding mostly prank toys. After a cursory glance, she turned and headed next door to the wand shop.
It was closed.
She pushed against the door a couple of times to confirm it was locked, then returned to the joke shop.
"Isn't Mr. Ollivander always in his shop?" she asked, affecting a British accent.
"We're about to close too, miss," the shopkeeper said, not answering her question, his movements speeding up as he packed things away. He'd just taken a short holiday before Hogwarts let out, lingered a bit too long in Germany舍不得 (unwilling to leave) the beer, and returned to find half the shops on the street shuttered. That man, that man had returned and had even kidnapped Ollivander next door. The man had started packing to close up the moment he'd finished the Floo call; he had no time for some little girl's questions.
"But my wand seems to be having problems..."
Wand problems? The entire wizarding world is having problems right now! The shopkeeper waved a dismissive hand. "Don't know. Where are your parents? Hurry along. Don't come to Diagon Alley lately. Ask your professors or Headmaster about wand issues when term starts."
In the entrance courtyard, she took off her robes. Dressed in normal clothes, Natasha walked out of the Leaky Cauldron.
It was true. This time, she hadn't disguised herself much. For a young witch traveling alone, the lack of attention was反常 (downright strange). The Leaky Cauldron, too, was a far cry from its packed state last year. No one even gave her a second glance as she emerged in Muggle clothing.
The latest issue of the Daily Prophet held little useful information. Every published article seemed to be saying the same thing: Relax, don't panic. Dumbledore is a great wizard. We have the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. The news of You-Know-Who's return was most likely public now.
Natasha hailed a cab and went straight to the airport.
She had entered legally this time, with a passport, using an unaccompanied minor service. Unfortunately, the return trip would still require magic; she hadn't anticipated leaving so soon. Harry Potter was undoubtedly under heavy surveillance. You-Know-Who? It was almost laughable that she still hadn't managed to uncover his real name. The rest of the information was too fragmented, likely meaningless even if pieced together.
British summers had drastic temperature swings between day and night. She took off her windbreaker in the cab, holding it in her lap, and wiped the fine sweat from her brow.
That's enough of 'Harry Potter.' Natasha mentally crossed the item off her to-do list. The distance was great, actionable intelligence scarce, the cost and difficulty of investigation high, and given it was essentially children's literature, the outcome was inevitably 'good triumphs over evil.' Her priorities now were Yelena and the Red Room.
Her little sister. The corner of her mouth twitched, a ghost of a smile that wasn't really a smile.
This wasn't her world. He, she, they—they weren't the people she knew. She was acutely aware of this, yet she still cared.
In her plan, a year of magical study should have given her enough power to hold her own against an adult. The reality was that a witch's power grew gradually with age. Even though she could now cast a Disillusionment Charm, she couldn't maintain it for long. She could manage a Obliviate, but only enough to make a criminal forget they'd seen her face, not even enough to make them forget they'd been robbed. With limited capabilities, she wouldn't act rashly.
What happened in Budapest with the Taskmaster was a tragedy born of uncertainty. She couldn't afford to repeat that mistake.
Her proficiency with the Confundus Charm had grown; she boarded the plane without much trouble and arrived late at night, using the same trick with a taxi to return to her apartment.
"Meow." She had told Kitty she'd be gone for two or three days.
"Plans changed. Came back early."
The cat's tail swished, as if accepting her explanation.
"You know, sometimes you can't tell if you've blinked and switched worlds, or just had a very, very long dream. Or maybe everything before you woke up was the dream," Natasha knew it was all real. She was just... just weighed down by too many emotions. "Meeting new people, living a new life, doing new things... it's good. It's just that you'll never get to know those old people in the same way again."
"Meowr."
Kitty jumped onto the bed and burrowed into her owner's arms. She didn't understand the words, but直觉 (instinctively) knew she was needed.
"You're new too, but not in a bad way," Natasha held her tight, her face pressed against the cat's neck, the fur tickling her nose with each breath. "Achoo!" She laughed at the sneeze, a low chuckle heavy with nasal congestion.
It would get better.
She kept in touch with Ginger and Riley (mostly their owls delivering letters asking about homework), maintained her daily exercise routine, signed up for a class at a local youth boxing gym, occasionally sparred with the coach, a former competitor, went grocery shopping when she had time, bought ingredients to cook meals in her apartment, took Kitty for walks on her leash around New York, seeing a Manhattan where the Twin Towers still stood...
The entire summer seemed to pass without her doing anything, yet it felt strangely充实 (fulfilling).
Stepping off the school bus, the first thing she saw were Riley and Ginger waiting for her. Natasha returned a brilliant smile, eliciting looks of utter shock from the pair, before turning to retrieve her luggage and Kitty.
"What's wrong with her? That smile was terrifying."
"Dunno. Puberty, maybe?"
"What's puberty?"
"A No-Maj thing. A kind of illness people get when they hit their teens."
"You're lying to me again, aren't you?"
Lugging her suitcase, she rejoined them just as they were about to come to blows.
Natasha captured their attention with one sentence: "Don't you want to get inside early and grab a spot up front?"
This year, they were second-years, about to watch the Sorting from the second-floor balcony for the very first time.
"Hurry! Nat, give me your suitcase, I'll put the luggage away! You go save us a spot! I want the place right in front of the railing on the right side!"
Chapter 21: chapter 21: 2nd grade summer holiday
Summary:
What else can i say
time past fast:D
Notes:
Comment plz
Thanks for 3 kudos (yeah!
Chapter Text
Dumbledore is dead.
A peaceful school year ended with a resounding, deafening exclamation mark.
The first owl crashed through the classroom window, disregarding the lesson. The professor scanned the letter hastily before immediately setting it down and leaving the room. Then, countless owls began to streak past the windows, arriving from all directions. A bold student took a letter from their family owl's talon: "Oh my god! Dumbledore is dead!" The next moment, cries of shock and lament erupted one after another. The entire main tower seemed to be in the same state; Natasha even felt she could sense the ground vibrating beneath her feet from the commotion.
"Quiet!" The professor returned, quelling the unrest. "All students are to return to their dormitories to pack immediately. Assemble in the Entrance Hall in one hour."
Natasha exchanged a look with Riley, then pulled the distraught Ginger along as they filed out. Students from other classrooms were also pouring into the corridors. "Hey, do you think the exams we just finished might be canceled?"
"I wish they would be. I definitely bombed it."
"Me too."
A few older students walked ahead of them, having already composed themselves and moved on to discussing their recently completed O.W.L. exams. In her hand, however, Ginger's hand was trembling. Natasha gave it a firm squeeze. "It'll be okay."
"Due to some... unspeakable, irresistible factors, the school has decided to end the term early," Headmaster Agilbert Fontaine stood ramrod straight, addressing everyone. "Furthermore, students in their fourth year and above are hereby granted special permission to take their wands home for the summer." Someone at the back started with a "Woo! Yeah!", and excitement gradually spread through the crowd.
"Silence!" Agilbert's expression was severe. "However, every spell cast will be monitored by MACUSA. The purpose of permitting wands is to ensure you have the means to defend yourselves in critical moments. Should anyone receive a warning from MACUSA for illegal magic, Ilvermorny will issue an immediate expulsion."
The crowd fell silent. Agilbert cleared his throat and listed several place names. "These locations are mixed wizard-No-Maj communities. Students from No-Maj families living near these areas, please remember these places. This summer, avoid Britain if at all possible. I mean, anywhere in Britain…"
Standing outside the walls, Ginger was reluctant to board the departing school bus. She held Natasha's hand tightly. "Nat, you... you promise you won't go this time, right?"
"What are you talking about? Go where?" Her heart sank, a feigned look of confusion on her face.
Ginger, misinterpreting her reaction for nonchalance, took Kitty from Natasha's arms and thrust her into Riley's, then urgently pulled Natasha to the side of the wall away from the bus queue. "I know you went to London last year. That phone box model had 'made in London' written on the bottom. It's just... don't brush this off. I know how No-Majs see Dark wizards, but this is different, Nat. Dark wizards are the worst, the most evil. A single spell from them can kill. Don't think they're like No-Maj thieves." Reaching the core of her fear, she grasped both of Natasha's hands tightly. "You're my best friend. I don't want anything to happen to you."
"Silly, you can buy things made in London anywhere in Britain. Go home and check the headband you bought at Disney; it might say 'made in Tokyo'," Natasha laughed, freeing one hand to ruffle the girl's hair. "I promise you, I will be perfectly fine."
After her birthday, she would be thirteen, and her height had already surpassed 160 cm. In her previous life, she'd already begun going on missions under her instructor's supervision.
Wearing a mesh vest and ripped jeans—a teenager eager to show the world her mature charm—she nodded at the customs officer's smile and retrieved her forged passport, walking out of the arrivals hall.
She had no interest in the feud between the most evil Dark Lord and the greatest savior. This trip had one purpose only—she needed to learn Dark Magic. And preferably, figure out why her cherrywood wand had turned the deep red-black of dried blood color .
With everyone fearing for their safety, Knockturn Alley had perhaps never been this quiet. Isaac Stone, a wizard who made a living selling shoddy alchemical items related to Dark Magic, thought to himself as he began packing up his crude wares. Powerful wizards won’t notice his stall, and other wizards had become a rare sight lately. Another day without earning a single Knut. He sighed, bundled his collected goods into a blanket, slung it over his shoulder, and headed towards Diagon Alley. He needed a drink at the Leaky Cauldron.
"Don't move." A wand tip pressed against his throat. In his field of vision, he could only see plain black robes.
Damn it. Is this where I buy it? Isaac tremblingly raised his hands. "I... I haven't done any—" To his surprise, the person behind him seemed dissatisfied with his gesture. "Muggle-born?"
"Y... Yes." Crap. He hasn't even said anything yet, and I raised my hands!
"Know how to use Dark Magic?" The voice was low and raspy, its gender indeterminable.
Isaac just wanted to slap himself. Why did I want a drink? Trouble found me before I even got one. With no other choice, he could only reply顺着 (going along with) the cloaked figure. "Yes! I do! I'm very skilled at Dark Magic!" Please, just let me live.
"Hand over your wand." Almost simultaneously with the voice, another spell—"Expelliarmus!"—disarmed him, sending his wand flying into the cloaked figure's hand.
Holy— This person's wand is a fake! Isaac thought he'd deduced the truth and turned around, ready to teach the cloaked figure a lesson with his proudest skill—hand-to-hand combat. "You think—"
A whip-like kick struck the back of his knee. Isaac was forced to the ground by the impact, kneeling.
This was the border between Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley. Most Dark wizards Apparated, and light wizards had no reason to pass through here. So, at this moment, it was just him—who had failed his Apparition test three times—and the cloaked figure.
"I was wrong, I was wrong," he said, raising his hands high again. "I'll do whatever you say." It had been minutes without an Unforgivable Curse. This person didn't seem like a Dark wizard. He felt slightly relieved.
"Take me to where you live."
Isaac tentatively raised his head. Seeing the cloaked figure didn't stop him, he finally stood up— What the— She's just a student! My age at most!
"You... you you you," Isaac sputtered, his face a picture of噎住了 (choked disbelief), pointing at the figure in black—no, the girl in black robes—who only came up to his chin, unable to form a complete sentence for a long moment.
Natasha watched the man expressionlessly, amused. Her original plan was to abduct a Dark wizard, perhaps attempt to control them with the Imperius Curse, or use force if necessary—someone who could both teach and be experimented on. Pity the plan failed the moment this guy raised his hands.
"One more time. What can you actually do?" She switched the wand she was holding to her other hand. Now, her left held his wand and the one from the black-market vendor, while her right pointed the cherrywood wand at the young man. Natasha spoke softly, "This time, I advise you not to lie."
Under the gaze of those eyes, Isaac felt utterly seen. The back of his knee still throbbed painfully. Not daring to try any tricks, he answered truthfully, "I have a talent for Dark Magic. I'm passable at alchemy." Well, that was it. Those were his only勉强称得上是 (barely qualifying as) talents.
"Let's go. To your place."
Chapter 22: chapter 22: Siblings
Summary:
surprise？
lol
Notes:
thanks for 6 kudos！
i wont put any artwork on my works unless i drew them（yes i draw
comment anything！
Chapter Text
Isaac tried to persuade the girl to use Floo Powder to get to his house in Cokeworth. Ever since he'd seen Professor Snape that one time in Spinner's End, he'd never dared to step out his front door again.
"No," Natasha refused coldly. She stashed the man's wand in her bag and, holding the other two wands, prodded him from behind out of the Leaky Cauldron. "I don't trust you." She hailed a taxi and casually cast a Confundus Charm.
Good lord. Her magical power seemed significantly stronger than his. Watching the girl's娴熟的 ( practiced ) spellcasting, Isaac swallowed hard and obediently got into the car, giving the driver his address.
"It's... rather humble. Sorry." One really shouldn't expect much from the dwelling of a twenty-year-old Muggle-born wizard, should they? At least he had a fireplace connected to the Floo Network.
What is wrong with British wizards?
No反抗 (resistance) in the car. No attempt to escape after getting out. He'd even given the driver his real address. The entire journey passed without a single hiccup. Was this the charm of children's literature?
Natasha forcibly raised her guard, forcing herself to stay alert.
It was just that everything that had happened so far was so... absurdly, stupidly straightforward. She pulled a money pouch from her bag containing ten Galleons. "I need a place to stay. And I need a teacher," she loosened the drawstring, showing the gold coins inside, adding, "a teacher for the Dark Arts."
"Is that all?"
"If that's how you see it, then yes. That's all."
Isaac Stone. His father died of consumption when he was six. He bounced around the foster system until he was eleven, only being 'acknowledged' by his grandfather's family after receiving his Hogwarts letter.
Acknowledged. His father was a Squib who had been disowned. His mother was absent from his memory entirely. The Sorting Hat placed him in Slytherin. The transition from his grandfather's approval to being abandoned again by the family for his mediocre talent took a mere seven years.
"The Dark Lord will return. We shall all bask in his great glory." On the eve of his graduation, the old man who had long given up on him rolled up his sleeve in front of Isaac.
His grandfather was a Death Eater.
The horrors of the Triwizard Tournament were still vivid in his mind. Summoning courage from somewhere he didn't know he had, Isaac ended the old man's life with a handgun he'd stolen using a Memory Charm. His aim was terrible—he'd aimed for the head but hit the chest. Old Mr. Stone turned, raising his wand, a green light already gathering at its tip. In panic, Isaac pulled the trigger again, this time firing the shot that found its mark in the eye socket. Pure-blood families weren't known for their numerous offspring. The Stones had no one left but him. With his remaining理智 (sanity), Isaac ordered the family house-elf to dispose of the body, threw the elf named "Ora" a handkerchief, cast a Memory Charm on it, and set it free. Then he set the Stone house on fire—the house inherited through blood magic—which burned swiftly to a框架 (frame) under a Flame-Freezing Charm that wasn't even particularly powerful.
He returned to his father's house with nothing but the wand in his hand.
How does a newly graduated wizard, raised in the Muggle world, survive on his own?
He tried finding a job in the Muggle world, but blank educational records got him eliminated in the first round of resume screening. Shop owners in Diagon Alley were unimpressed by his O.W.L. results, his highest grade only an Exceeds Expectations. Finally, he found a part-time job at Borgin and Burkes, a Dark object shop in Knockturn Alley, using his only N.E.W.T. certificate—an E in Alchemy.
The Malfoy boy—that Malfoy boy, from the Death Eater family—came to Borgin and Burkes demanding that damned Caractacus fix that damned cabinet. Then a group of people walked into that cabinet. And then Dumbledore died.
He might have mediocre magical talent, but he wasn't stupid.
Isaac fled in terror, never returning to Borgin and Burkes. But just a month later, dwindling savings forced him to don a black cloak and set up a stall at the mouth of Knockturn Alley, selling cursed items he made and the Dark objects that damned Caractacus Burke had given him in lieu of wages.
And then a girl, about his age, intercepted him.
A girl with superb magical talent and formidable willpower. A Oppugno charm that summoned living wolves. A Disarming Charm that made his Shield Charm hum and vibrate. And an Imperius Curse that succeeded on the first attempt.
"What do you think?"
"I wish to follow you." His mind recovering from the blankness imposed by the curse, Isaac spoke without thinking.
"So, this is the effect of Dark Magic," the girl frowned. "Making you want to submit to the caster." No wonder that Dark Lord could gather Death Eaters.
"What! No, that's not it," Isaac hurried to explain, only to realize the girl was looking up at him. He sank to one knee. "You are the most powerful witch I have ever seen. I wish to follow you." Seeing her expression remain impassive, he desperately moved to kneel on both knees.
"Stop."
Was this also a plot point from the books? So this boy was destined to become a Death Eater? She had just intercepted him first, making him "switch" his allegiance?
"I will not become a Dark Lord, and I will do nothing for you."
"I don't need you to. I only wish to follow you." A seemingly endless supply of Galleons. Spellcasting that never failed. Daily No-Maj combat training. If he didn't latch onto this person now, he would never have another chance to escape the quagmire he was in. Isaac remained on one knee. "I voluntarily become your..." He searched for the right word, inexplicably remembering a storybook he'd loved as a child. "...I will be your Knight." ……
Events hurtled forward in a manner utterly consistent with children's literature yet profoundly bizarre, developing into something she could no longer comprehend.
Natasha stood by the stove. A ceramic pot on the burner simmered with Russian Borscht. Isaac Stone—now Isar Rushman—this twenty-year-old man, possessed surprisingly good culinary skills.
"You're awake." The man approached slowly, a towel around his neck, his hair wet and dripping.
"Mhm," Natasha cleared her throat somewhat unnaturally. "Why suddenly make Borscht?"
Isar's face lit up with sudden animation. "Yes, that day at Maria's Restaurant, I noticed you really liked it. So I tried making it myself. Is it to your taste?"
Maria's Restaurant was a Russian eatery in Queens, right below their new apartment. They'd eaten there occasionally since moving in.
"It's quite good," Natasha put down her spoon and addressed her... brother. "Shall we eat first, or...?"
"I'm ready."
At six in the morning, in the small living room of a ground-floor apartment in Flushing, a pair of siblings began their new day with a sparring session.
Chapter 23: chapter 23: 2nd Grade summer holiday - 3rd Grade
Summary:
going～
Notes:
i picked the owl from my favorite board game Wingspan！
comment anything and thanks for the kudos！
Chapter Text
If one had to choose the most practical spell among all charms, it would undoubtedly be the Confundus Charm.
In Britain, a birth certificate could be obtained by simply finding the relevant clerk and paying a small fee. Using this as a foundation to apply for a passport, and then taking both documents to the job center two weeks later to apply for a National Insurance number, a completely new, legal identity was established. With magic, everything was so much easier than it had been for her back then.
It was only when Isar took their passport information to book plane tickets that he realized the witch he sought to依附 (attach himself to) was only thirteen years old.
"Merlin's beard! I thought you were at least a fifth year!" His jaw dropped in astonishment, looking at her as if she were one of the world's top ten wonders.
So, would it be regret or anger?
Neither. Isar simply continued, marveling, "Then I really do qualify as your big brother," before picking up the phone to continue booking the flights, rendering her prepared countermeasures utterly useless. Natasha didn't let her guard down, but on the surface, she appeared to trust him completely. She called her "brother" for the final cleanup.
They transferred the contents of the Stone family Gringotts vault via blood magic to an account opened in Isar Rushman's name for Natasha. They also investigated the ruins of the old Stone manor. Sure enough, there was a secret basement Isar hadn't known about. But old Mr. Stone seemed to have great faith in Gringotts; the basement held only some ancient books, while the valuables were all in the vault.
After tidying up the last traces of Isaac Stone, the two boarded a flight to New York without waiting for the National Insurance number letter to arrive.
Isar Rushman, the half-brother of Natalie Rushman, met them at Mr. Rushman's graveside in Britain while their uncle had taken Natalie to pay respects. Seeing Natalie was now all alone, Isar Rushman decided to leave everything behind in his mother country and journey to America with his sister—his only remaining family in the world.
With their background story complete, the siblings passed through customs smoothly and returned to Brooklyn. The studio apartment couldn't accommodate two people. Natasha took Isar and moved to Queens, where housing was cheaper, using a Memory Charm on the landlord to make him forget he owned this particular condo.
"We will pay back this money," Natasha said after magically altering the deed, writing 'Isar Rushman' in the owner field.
"Alright. I can start looking for temporary work today."
"No," Natasha countered. "You will do as I say."
Learn an American accent and integrate into society quickly. Get a haircut, put on a suit, find a menial job at a stock exchange, later use the position to open a personal account. Get acquainted with the internet, learn to use a computer. Practice magic and combat to improve personal skills. That was all for now.
Throughout his life, Isar had relied on his intuition to avoid countless dangers—unsettling foster homes, school bullying, the subtle ostracism in Slytherin... Until now. With three regular meals a day,清醒地感知到 (acutely aware) that he was growing stronger bit by bit, he had never been more grateful for this intuition, which had allowed him to逆转 (reverse) such a bleak situation into what it was now.
"Reaction time isn't fast enough. An issue with the thigh muscles?" Picking up a towel from the rack to wipe off sweat, Natasha turned to ask about his momentary lapse during their sparring session. "The key to kicking is to rotate the hip first, then the pelvis. The leg must be fast, accurate, and straight."
Isar didn't say he had actually been distracted, accepting the criticism meekly. "Yes."
Their apartment was about six hundred square feet. Besides the two bedrooms and bathroom, the kitchen and living area amounted to less than two hundred square feet. The kitchen was a line of cabinets next to the entrance door. The dining table sat in the corner, flush against the outer wall of Natasha's bedroom and bathroom. Beyond that was the small living area, combined with the open kitchen. There was no sofa or coffee table; each had a TV in their bedroom. The living area only had the carpet that came with the place. Every morning, Natasha and Isar would spar for half an hour.
Isar was over 180 cm tall with low muscle mass but good dynamic vision, making him relatively agile. She couldn't go all out against the coach at the youth boxing club, but with Isar, she could use 110% of her strength. According to Isar, trouble had always found him since childhood, and over time, he'd developed an intuition for avoiding danger. Perhaps because of this, nearly half of her attacks were anticipated by him. Unfortunately, Isar's body couldn't keep up with his instincts, and a month later, he was still covered in bruises. But至少 (at the very least), for her current self, every session was effective practice. That was enough.
They each returned to their bedrooms to stretch and shower, emerging later for breakfast: fried eggs, roasted kielbasa, asparagus, and Russian Borscht. The protein and fiber were well balanced. Natasha opened the cabinet door and took out a loaf of sliced bread. "Don't forget the carbs." Sitting kitty-corner from each other, they shared the bread and began their meal.
"I've received my green card. I'll go for the interview at the exchange today," Isar said, his accent no longer distinctly British.
"And if the interview doesn't go well?"
"Confundus the interviewer. Make him think he's very impressed with me."
"Next step?"
"Get close to the account auditor and manager. Open a personal investment account."
"Good," Natasha put down her spoon, avoiding Isar's hand reaching for her bowl, and took her own dishes to the sink. "I'll be starting school soon. Aside from the current plan, arrange your daily routine yourself. If you want, you can buy another owl." Isar's original owl was registered to his name, and the procedures for taking birds abroad were too troublesome; they'd ultimately had to sell it.
"I will," Isar smiled. The sold owl had belonged to the Stone family; he wasn't particularly attached to it anyway. Besides, he had been too destitute to afford a pet. Selling it was fine. On the contrary, he was grateful Natalie remembered. "Do you have a particular breed you like?" Since the purpose of getting an owl was to communicate with her, he should choose one she liked.
"Preferably not too large," Natasha said. Even though correspondence had become necessary, she still didn't want to attract attention.
"Oh my god! What is it?!" A small owl tapped lightly on the glass. Natasha opened the window to let it in. Ginger, who had looked over at the sound, let out a shriek. "Oh my god! Where did you get this? Why do you have an owl? Why didn't I see this breed when I bought mine!"
Natasha realized Ginger seemed to have a hard time resisting cat-like animals... or perhaps this was the real reason she had been chosen by the Wampus house. "An Eastern Screech-Owl. I have an older brother in Britain. He's come to live with me now. This is his owl."
"Oh my god! It's so tiny and adorable!"
Adult Eastern Screech-Owls are no larger than 25 cm, with a wingspan of only about 50 cm, but their flight speed is not inferior to some larger birds. And, true to its name, the Eastern Screech-Owl is very common in North America. Isar said the neighbors thought Light (Wright) was just a wild owl that had flown into their house.
"His name is Light," Natasha said as Light extended his left leg. She untied the message cylinder from his foot and took out the letter inside. "It's a common owl in the No-Maj world. Apparently, they weren't considered for breeding initially because of their small size. Breeding of this品种 (breed) only started this year." Inspired by Amazon and other online sites, the North American wizarding world began promoting a wizarding courier service late last year: Owl delivery too slow over long distances? Why not hire wizards skilled in Apparition? And further, why not start a separate delivery company using alchemical vehicles? Thus, the primary use of owls beyond letter delivery—sending packages with any speed—was replaced by wizarding courier services. Breeders then turned their attention to owl breeds that were visually appealing. If it's just for letters, what does it matter if they're a bit smaller?
"I have to get one for Christmas," Ginger muttered, watching Light's retreating figure, already having asked for the name of the owl shop.
Chapter 24: chapter 24: 3rd Grade
Summary:
lets get started
Notes:
i just found out ive mistaken Wright Clarke as Riley Clarke after chapter 10
so i guess his name is Wright now
comment anything plz！and thanks for the kudos！
Chapter Text
"You actually don't know Mr. Scamander!" Wright exclaimed excitedly, looking at her with an accusing expression. "Mr. Scamander is one of the greatest wizards! He established the Werewolf Registry and pushed for the ban on treating magical creatures as test subjects! He also wrote the book you're holding!"
"Newton Artemis Fido Scamander?" Natasha glanced again at the author's name on the cover, reading it word by word. "If you're asking about Scamander, I do know this one." Her only Chocolate Frog Card featured this wizard.
Wright shuddered, his face flushing red. "Newt! Newt is the nickname for Newton! No one calls Mr. Scamander Newton Scamander!"
"Perhaps next time, you'll use more precise language," Natasha said, holding Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them as she walked past him. Ginger snorted at Wright and followed suit.
"Wait for me, you two!"
The two girls exchanged a smile and quickly broke into a run.
"In this class, we will study different monsters—that is, magical creatures—through Mr. Scamander's work. We will learn about their habitats, physical characteristics, behaviors…" The professor was still giving an introductory lecture before the formal class began. Natasha took advantage of the moment, devoting only half her attention to the lecture while casually flipping through the very thick textbook.
Starting from the third year, Ilvermorny students could apply for elective courses: Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes, Introduction to No-Majs, Arithmancy, and Divination.
For students from wizarding families, "taking Introduction to No-Majs is practically an unwritten rule." Ginger was very interested in magical creatures (mainly all feline animals), while Natasha had chosen Ancient Runes and both Divination courses. She also wanted to attend classes with her best friend, and somehow ended up with a schedule where class times overlapped.
Natasha wrote to Isar and learned about a device called the Time-Turner. Intrigued, she signed up for all five electives, just like Ginger. Unexpectedly, the Head of House specifically came to the common room to announce: "Students who have chosen all five courses must合理安排 their study plans and adjust their class schedules independently."
For example, if Introduction to No-Majs overlapped with Flying class, students could choose to complete the in-class Flying tasks early and then hurry back to attend Introduction to No-Majs. Alternatively, they could study the No-Maj material in advance and take a makeup exam with the professor after Flying class.
"I know some of you may have heard certain rumors, but here at Ilvermorny, we do not encourage such extreme use of time, nor will we tolerate students accessing dangerous magical objects. If you want an O.W.L. transcript full of Outstandings, earn it with your own abilities," Meryl Bates concluded her annual routine before turning and leaving the common room.
The Time-Turner… She had once been a Hogwarts student and a user of the Time-Turner. Nothing comes without a price—stolen time is repaid with multiplied exhaustion. The process was just about cramming knowledge and struggling to keep up with time, making even that transcript full of Os seem thin and pale in the end.
An underage student shouldn’t pay an unreasonable price for something whose value they don’t fully understand. Therefore, after joining Ilvermorny, Meryl Bates continuously submitted proposals titled On the Hazards of Time-Turners and Time-Turners Should Be Banned on Campus.
The results proved her right. Students capable of earning twelve Outstandings could achieve them even without a Time-Turner, and no one questioned the meaning of doing so the way she once had. The students were proud because they had earned it fairly.
Thinking of the few students in the house who had applied for all courses this year, Meryl smiled, said the password, and entered her office.
"So you didn’t end up dropping Introduction to No-Majs?" During class, after the professor finished explaining the key points and left time for note-taking, Ginger leaned closer to Natasha and whispered.
[No,] Natasha wrote on a piece of parchment in reply. [Getting twelve Os doesn’t seem that hard. I plan to try it first and drop the course if it doesn’t work out. There’s no time limit anyway.]
[What about me?]
[Follow your heart. Do whatever you want.]
[Wright didn’t choose Divination, neither of them.]
[He is him, and you are you,] The quill tip paused slightly before continuing to write. [I am me.]
Ginger silently straightened her posture and began meticulously copying the textbook content into her notebook.
If she couldn’t figure it out, perhaps they would gradually grow apart. Natasha selected a few key points about [Behavior] and jotted them down in her notebook.
"Divination is a mysterious field of study. No-Majs have a theory that magic is just science we don’t yet understand, and the same goes for Divination. I believe most of you have chosen Arithmancy. Pure Divination may seem to lack concrete evidence compared to it, but we are wizards," Professor Segreto Abigail said with a sly smile. "Wizards don’t need evidence. The essence of magic is wishful thinking."
"Wizards did not exist from the very beginning. What existed was magical power, and people with magical power. This period lacks actual records and is difficult to verify—its authenticity is for you to judge. Who was the first wizard in the world?" Segreto pointed at a student who was mouthing "Merlin." "First, it was definitely not Merlin. The great Mr. Merlin achieved extraordinary feats and was both teacher and friend to King Arthur. So, who knows who Merlin’s teacher was? How did Merlin learn magic?"
"That remains unknown," Segreto said with another sly smile. "A wizard is a person with magical power. When a person with magical power used that power for the first time, they created magic. Thus, the world had its first wizard." He pressed his hands down, calming the excited students. "Don’t rush, children. We’re getting there. No one knows who the first wizard was, but he clearly taught magic to other people with magical power. Diviners, alchemists, potion masters… Many years ago, these were all branches of wizardry. Now, each of us learns almost every branch. Does anyone know why this is?"
Unlike the imagined scenario of making up stories from tea leaves or crystal balls, the young wizards listened with great interest. Someone answered loudly without being called on: "Because we have schools!"
"Very good, two points to—" The professor tilted his head to identify the student’s house crest. "—the Gnome Institute." He continued, "Before the first magic school was established, people with magical power might have self-taught to become wizards, or perhaps met a wizard teacher and learned magic under their guidance to become wizards. Those less fortunate might have missed out entirely. Yes, the theory I support is that this is the origin of No-Majs—people unaware of their own magical power or the existence of magic in the world. Their magical power gradually weakened over time until it eventually disappeared."
"However, we still see witches and wizards born from No-Majs today," he added, shifting his tone. "This is because traces of magical power always hide within bloodlines and are passed down. And now, with magic schools, every young witch or wizard can be detected."
"With that said, let’s officially begin today’s lesson. Don’t 'aww'—Divination is not as boring as you might think. Like magical power, Divination is also a magical talent. Students from No-Maj backgrounds certainly know that even today, there are diviners among No-Majs. Some of them must possess a talent for Divination, to a greater or lesser extent. So now, take out your crystal balls—let’s see if we have the gift of Divination."