the building blocks of who I am [One-Shot]

[Bianca Alia Rivera]

2008

Bianca wasn’t paying much attention to her parents’ vague argument in the background. She had just discovered a little hole in the wall and was sprawled on the floor, stomach close to the ground and eye pressed right to the wall in the hopes of seeing inside. She wasn’t sure what its significance was yet – her mother had been complaining about cockroaches for the last several weeks – well months, well…years. So she would probably throw a fit if she found Bianca in such an incriminating position now. But Bianca knew better than to believe something so mundane. Little holes like this were always the magical gateway to an enchanted world, and Bianca knew her family could use some magic in their lives.

It was hard to remember that beautiful things existed when you lived on the ground floor of a crowded apartment building in what was definitely one of the ugliest and poorest neighborhoods of Santiago de Chile. In fact, ‘ground’ floor was being generous since they technically lived one floor below – apparently they got a massive break in paying rent every month because of the dingy and dark apartment that no one else had wanted. Bianca wouldn’t know much about that, but her father brought it up with pride every time they had family over. And she had learned that if Papa was proud about something, she should be too. He was the happiest person she knew, despite the fact that he lived in a hole in the ground and hadn’t been home in two days anyway. Some big case at the precinct and it felt like every cop in the neighborhood had been called to put in the extra hours.

But he was home now, and that was what the argument was about. Bianca continued to peer into the hole, trying to catch sight of tiny people or a staircase, absentmindedly listening to her mother yelling passionately at her father in Italian. Mama was right – he had only just come back, and now he had to leave again. And she had to go to school, so she couldn’t watch Bianca – unless he wanted to leave a whole class of primary school children without their teacher. Is that what he wanted? Would that make him happy? At that point, Bianca had heard enough, so she gave up the hole as just another sad indication of their sad life and jumped up. She gave herself a general pat-down (because Mama would definitely not appreciate the impressive collection of dust bunnies Bianca had collected from laying on the floor) before she went wandering through the tiny apartment to where her parents were screaming at each other in her bedroom. Well, it wasn’t right to call it her bedroom, because she shared it with her older brother Marco. But he was never home anyway, always with his ‘no-good’ friends (as Papa always said), so Bianca liked to pretend the room was just for her. She’d never had anything in her life that was only hers before.

She hovered by the doorway for a moment, hanging off the doorknob like a monkey as she watched her parents argue. Her mother was all hands – waving them in the air, crossing them occasionally, and sometimes brushing her long beautiful hair out of her face as she yelled. Her father was the picture of serenity, standing with perfect posture and his hands folded behind his back (his police captain would be so proud) as he responded in a measured tone, never raising his voice. After a few moments of ignoring her presence, Papa finally turned to Bianca and asked in a kind, if not rigid tone, “What is it, tesoro?” Her parents always argued in Italian as if the kids wouldn’t understand – that had worked when Bianca was younger, but her mother had taught her too well for it to work now. That was what tended to happen when she ignored anything Bianca said until she repeated it in her language. But they always switched back to Spanish when speaking to the children, and Bianca loved her father’s nickname for her. Tesoro, treasure.

Clearing her throat innocently, as if Bianca hadn’t been waiting for the exact right moment to spring this on her parents, she said primly (and in perfect Italian to butter up her mother), “Can I go to work with you, Papa?” She was tempted to launch into a long-winded speech about all the reasons she should be able to go, but she knew that wouldn’t work with her father. He liked everything short and sweet, and anyway – he was a smart man, and he would probably be cycling through all the pros and cons in his head right now. Besides, as amazing and perfect and cool as her father was, he wasn’t the real power in this family. Sure enough, after a few moments he turned to Mama with a questioning expression on his face. Bianca kept her face blank, careful not to let any of her glee show as she finally nodded her head jerkily. “Yes, fine. Maybe she’ll finally learn something more useful than how to ruin her clothes.” That was still a victory, and Bianca beamed at her mother (showing off her several missing teeth while she waited for the adult ones to grow in), and threw her arms around her.

It was better not to reveal just how long Bianca had desperately wanted to ask. Her parents didn’t have much time for her – not when they were both working furiously just to be able to put food on the table in the middle of a declining economy. Bianca had spent her time getting passed around to the houses of different tías all her life, but she wasn’t a baby anymore! That had always been her father’s excuse why he couldn’t take Bianca to the precinct – it wasn’t a place for children, there were criminals and hard-working officers there. But she wasn’t a baby, she was almost ten years old, practically an adult soon in her calculation. So she was ready, and she vibrated with excitement as she skipped up the stairs behind Papa as he began his walk to work.

When they finally arrived at the precinct, he sat her on a chair and spoke to her sternly, “This isn’t a playground, mamita. There are serious men and women trying to work here, so you need to be quiet, okay?” Bianca nodded enthusiastically and mimed zipping her mouth shut. She kicked her legs in excitement and glanced around the precinct – taking in the faded walls, flickering lights, and sight of a traffic cop hitting his computer in frustration as it froze again. As far as she was concerned, it was the most beautiful place on earth. She watched with an eagle eye until she began to squirm, already bored with being taken to the coolest place ever and not actually being allowed to do anything. Her father had wandered over to his desk, and he was now deep in conversation with another cop as they looked over a file together. He was distracted. Perfect. Bianca surreptitiously slid off the chair and tip-toed to the far corner of the room, putting a whole circus of desks and circulating officers and people in civilian clothes between her and Papa. She found an older woman, practically ancient (like, at least in her mid-30s), seated at her desk with an easel in her hands. Bianca had seen her mom with a similar sketchbook – Mama loved to paint and draw, after all – so she sidled over in interest.

“Whatcha doing?” she asked curiously. The older woman looked up, and Bianca could now see that she was drawing somebody’s head. She had heard of this – Papa had called them sketch artists, and said they helped the police solve crimes. The woman had smile lines around her eyes, and she tilted her sketchpad so Bianca could peer over the edge and get a better look. “Is he a criminal?” she asked, mouth hanging open as she took in his narrow features and really, really ugly looking nose. The woman nodded. “That’s right, chica. We’re putting out his picture soon and if somebody knows who he is, they’ll call us.”

Without waiting for an invitation, Bianca jumped up onto the empty seat across from the woman and primly folded her hands in her lap. All the better to look unassuming. “Is it hard?” she asked curiously, trying to imagine doing what this woman did all day long. She knew Papa must work incredibly hard, since he always came back exhausted, barely able to do more than eat dinner and maybe read a story with her before bed. But drawing didn’t look like it would cause all that. The woman smiled and opened the sketchbook to a new page, handing that along with a pencil to Bianca. She stuck out her tongue as she focused on drawing a perfect circle, then added little spikes of hair to the top. She drew round eyes, a long line for the nose, and was trying to figure out what lips looked like when she stopped. Bianca flipped the last page back down so she could compare her stick man with the woman’s.

She pouted at the obvious difference in quality. “Mine is really bad,” she whined, looking at her own drawing again. Nobody would ever be able to catch the bad guy with her bad attempt to draw a criminal. That drew a laugh from the older woman, and Bianca shot her a dark look – she didn’t like being laughed at. “Oh, chicita, it’s okay. No one is good at something on their first try. If you want to be good—” Bianca interrupted to add, “I do!” The woman only smiled at the interruption. “Good. Then you need to work hard. Harder than everybody around you. And you need to be ready to fail too. Hey, I’ve been doing this for 20 years, and I think I’m finally starting to make progress!”

Bianca turned over this advice in her head the whole walk home, Papa firmly holding her hand so she wouldn’t wander off again.

2009

It was rare to see everybody gathered around their ancient looking dining table full of stains and cracks, but this was a special occasion. At least, that’s what Mama had said as she’d extracted Bianca from her room. The official story was that Bianca had been doing her homework, but in reality she’d been practicing a new football move she’d learned from one of her friends. That was how Mama had found her – one knee in the air, her face screwed up in concentration, and subsequently falling over at the startling realization that her mother had come into her room and was probably about to yell at her. But something had Mama distracted, because she’d only told Bianca to come to the main room right away. Bianca approached nervously, rehearsing her story in her head.

But that all left her mind at the strange sight that awaited her. Mama had rejoined Papa at the table, and they sat stiffly side-by-side. In fact, they both looked nervous. Mama – well, maybe that wasn’t weird, since she was an extremely passionate woman and didn’t hide her emotions. But Bianca had never seen Papa nervous. Seated at the table wasn’t her brother Marco, who had disappeared again. No doubt off with one of his friends, smoking cigarettes or that odd-smelling one that left a lingering bad odor in the room whenever he brought it in. No, it was a woman wearing the strangest clothes Bianca had ever seen. Her hair seemed to change colors randomly, like she wasn’t even thinking about it – electric blue, hot pink, canary yellow. She was wearing what looked to be a nightgown at first sight, but upon a second inspection was actually a pair of neat black robes with a strange crest. And in her hands, she was holding a thick creamy-white envelope, but made of some material that didn’t look like paper or plastic. Bianca stared wide-eyed at the three adults. “I didn’t do it,” she said automatically, unsure what she was even protesting that she didn’t do.

The strange woman laughed. “You’re not in trouble, Bianca. In fact, I have very good news for you. Will you sit down?” Bianca wanted to ask exactly how this woman knew her name, but she could feel that something very big was happening and was more curious to find out what. She zoomed around the table and hovered uncertainly by her father’s chair until he smiled at her and let her sit on his lap. Mama huffed but didn’t say anything. The woman continued speaking in Spanish, but with an accent that Bianca recognized. All the Brazilians in the city spoke like that. “My name is Professor Bruna Souza, and I’m here to offer you a place at my school. You have the exact right talent that we’re looking for.” At this, Bianca couldn’t hold it in any longer, and she said in a rush, “Um, but I don’t have any talent. Except my Mama says I have a talent for finding trouble and ruining my clothes, is that what you mean?”

Mama blushed, but didn’t say anything. Now that was alarming, what could have her outspoken mother so quiet? Professor Souza laughed and shook her head. “No, Bianca, that isn’t what I meant. Although I do feel obligated to say that troublemakers aren’t tolerated in Castelobruxo. No, we’re very strict about that. What I want to say is, you’re very special. Haven’t you ever noticed odd things happening around you? Doors that open unexpectedly, only because you wanted them to? Treats that you were dreaming about suddenly appearing on the kitchen counter the next morning? Maybe you’ve even seen objects fly?” Bianca stayed silent, chewing this new thought over, because in fact most of those things had happened to her. Not the treats, though, that would have been cool. Professor Souza must have guessed, because she continued in a gentle tone, although she wasn’t looking at Bianca only. She also addressed her parents. “You have magic, Bianca. You’re a witch. This is your acceptance letter to Castelobruxo, so you can learn how to use your magic, if you’d like.” She continued to speak, explaining that there would be other students like her, and professors teaching all sorts of odd subjects, and that there was a whole magical community that existed in secret. Bianca didn’t even know what Arithmancy was, but her eyes caught on Mama, who had made the sign of the cross as Professor Souza had told her she was a witch.

“Witches are bad, though,” Bianca blurted out, still not taking the letter Professor Souza had offered. “Father Alves says we must resist temptation, and that witches who practice magic against God’s wishes are bad.” Her mother looked satisfied at that, but Bianca could feel her father shift uncomfortably beneath her. She didn’t know what any of it meant, but Professor Souza didn’t look startled at the declaration. No, she simply looked resigned, as if she heard this quite a lot. The idea of being a witch made Bianca nervous, of having to tell Father Alves the next time she saw him at church. Before the professor could say anything, Papa spoke up – another unusual thing, since he usually allowed Mama to take the lead and preferred to remain quiet. “It would seem we have a long but important conversation ahead of us, professor. May I make you some maté?”

One month later…

It had barely been a month since that conversation, but Bianca had come around remarkably quickly to the idea of being a witch. Especially once Professor Souza had pulled out her wand. Children were like that, after all. They’d spoken for hours with Professor Souza, with Bianca mostly remaining quiet and observing as the professor and Mama went back and forth. This was when Bianca had made a startling realization about her parents, and why exactly Papa never came with them to church. Mama hadn’t stopped insisting that magic was the devil’s work, and that Bianca should have absolutely nothing to do with such a cursed subject. For once, Papa had disagreed. This wasn’t sin – it was just who Bianca was, and they had a responsibility to ensure she had the best chance of success in life. This could be her out, Stella! The way she leaves all this behind! Bianca didn’t know what he meant, but she wasn’t scared at the implications. No, she was ready. Papa usually let Mama win most of their arguments, but there was something different about this one. He kept pushing, refusing to give ground on the idea that Bianca needed to go to this strange school in Brazil. Eventually, he had won. Mama didn’t go silently, though, and Bianca could hear her banging cabinets in the kitchen now as she began to prepare dinner.

Papa had taken her shopping for school supplies, since Mama had flat-out refused. They’d gone to the strangest place ever, a part of Santiago that Bianca had never even known existed. There they had bought spellbooks, a cauldron, even her own wand. Bianca was dying to visit again, although it had been less fun with her family’s limited budget. She’d bought everything secondhand, except the wand, and was eager to inspect it before she left. Papa warned her not to take anything out of its boxes until she got to school, though. Mama was warming to the idea, he said, but it was better not to push her. Bianca didn’t even care about opening her textbooks, though. She was absolutely obsessed with the best thing she had ever seen – the owl her father had bought her. Professor Souza had said that it was okay to take a pet to Castelobruxo, and maybe even encouraged since it would be Bianca’s first time away from home. She’d said owls were useful (they delivered wizard post!), and now here she was with her very own pet. He was a beautiful snowy owl, so unusual in this part of the world, and Bianca couldn’t help but admire him. She’d never seen anything like him outside of the zoo before.

She needed to name him! She’d taken out one of her favorite books, a collection of stories about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. It wasn’t a Latin American story, but her mother had traveled quite a bit before coming to Chile and had amassed an impressive collection of foreign books. Bianca was sprawled on the floor again, using a pencil to circle potential names. She’d drawn a circle of hearts every time she saw King Arthur’s name, and had already blacked out Excalibur because it looked too complicated to say. She heard her father enter the room, and asked absently, “Papa, what is ‘gallant’?” She still struggled with English – American TV shows weren’t enough to teach her fancy words like that. Her dad glanced over her shoulder. “Sir Galahad is being very gallant, isn’t he? It means he’s very brave, and a hero.” Bianca made an ‘ooooh’ sound as she looked up. “I want to be gallant, too,” she decided. She looked up at her owl, who was dozing in his cage with his head under a wing. “And Gallant will be gallant, too!” Her owl, asleep, was unaware of the significance of the moment, but Bianca beamed with pride.

But she’d made a mistake, and forgotten that her father was still looking over her shoulder. “Bianca, you’ve written all over the pages,” he said disapprovingly. Bianca gulped nervously and stammered out an excuse or two, but Papa only sighed slightly through his nose. “Come here, tesoro.” He sat down on his usual chair, and Bianca immediately moved to curl up next to him, cradling the book to her chest. Papa looked tired, but he stroked her hair and moved to open the book to one of the marked pages. “You’re old enough at this point to learn about consequences.” Bianca quickly interrupted, because it sounded like she was about to get a lecture. “I didn’t mean it, Papa!”

He waited for her to finish speaking before patiently continuing. “I know, mamita. But sometimes we do things without thinking, and it hurts other people. But consequences can be good or bad. Remember when we picked flowers for Mama and gave her that bouquet?” Bianca nodded eagerly at the memory. It had been a good day. “She smiled and gave you a hug,” Papa continued in a calm voice, “and that was a very good thing to do. But then remember when you kicked Marco’s ball over the fence and he couldn’t use it to play with his friends anymore?”

Bianca couldn’t wait anymore and interjected again. “But Papa, you said Marco’s friends are bad for him. That they cause trouble. I was helping!” But Papa only sighed again and responded, “Maybe you thought you were helping, but you still hurt him, Bianca. You did something bad and upset your brother. That is a consequence. You must remember that every time you do something, you cause something else to happen. It can be good, but it can be bad. And if you do something bad, it’s your responsibility to fix it. That is the debt we owe. Do you understand, my lovely girl?” He looked down at her expectantly, and Bianca felt tears welling up at the thought that she had disappointed her father. “I’m sorry, Papa,” she sobbed, wiping her eyes with her grimy hands.

He kissed the top of her hair. “Don’t cry, mamita. There are very few things in life that can’t be undone, and I believe in my clever girl.” He held out the pencil he had confiscated, this time with the eraser pointing towards her. “So, will you fix your mistake?”

2010 – first year

Bianca skipped confidently through the passageway, admiring the view of the jungle from Castelobruxo’s wall of open windows. It had been almost two months since the start of term, and in her opinion – she was settling into this whole magic thing very well. Classes were tough, there was no doubt about that. Until her 11th birthday, all Bianca had known were Muggle subjects. Math, and science, and grammar. She’d had to memorize the Chilean national anthem, had already started reading some of the major literary works about its military dictatorships, and she could place every Latin American country on a map. Even some of Europe too.

But she had never heard of any famous wizarding figures, so History of Magic was her toughest subject. And she refused to touch rat spleens in Potions (those poor rats!), which had led to an argument between her and the Potions Master, culminating in her very first detention ever. But she’d taken quite well to Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, really any subject that required wandwork and a forceful personality. And she liked Transfiguration quite a bit too. She had been the first in the class to turn her beetle into a button, and she could recite some of the laws by heart now. Transfiguration was also Professor Souza’s subject, and since she was her favorite professor…Bianca was motivated to actually try in her classes.

One of the first things she had learned, though, was that she wasn’t an academically-inclined student. Some of the subjects were interesting, but she wasn’t like those nerds that spent all their free time studying and doing homework. She sat in the second or third row, never the first, and rarely raised her hand. The classes weren’t boring, but there were so many more interesting things to explore! Like, first of all, that this school was located in the Brazilian rainforest. The Herbology professor loved when students took initiative to go hunting for interesting plants, so Bianca spent an inordinate amount of time wandering the grounds looking for magical plants she had never heard of before and bringing them to the Herbology professor’s office for a private lesson. She was also obsessed with magical sports, and questioned everybody who dared to sit near her at mealtimes about Quidditch, but not only – basically any sport that had a ball and some sort of magic. And the candy. One of her fellow first-years had brought Chocolate Frogs for the entire Charms class on their first day, and Bianca had kept her special trading card. She liked to look at it at night, just to remind herself that this wasn’t all a dream. This was real, this was happening. She was a witch, and learning magic, and this was something that was only hers. Every poor kid’s dream, right?

She missed her family, of course. Sundays had always been the day that the whole family got together for barbeque and then a siesta, so Bianca took that day now to write letters to her parents and all her tías and [i[tíos.[/i] Mama still hadn’t written back to her, but Papa wrote back every week. He explained that Mama still loved her, but was having a little trouble with the adjustment. Bianca could picture her cradling her rosary and praying for her daughter’s soul. But besides that, Papa explained that everything was fine at home, and not to worry about them too much. She just needed to focus on doing well in school and doing everything she could to catch up with the other students who had spent their whole lives around magic. He hadn’t said anything, but Bianca wondered if he felt ashamed that he was only a Muggle. Not for himself, of course – he’d lived his whole life without magic, and would continue to do so. But that he couldn’t do more for her. There were other first-years that knew all this crazy stuff because they’d grown up with it. There were other students whose parents could buy them robes that had never been used before, or the fastest new broom on the market. And all Papa could send was the newest comic issue of Batman the moment it had come out, a purchase that had no doubt been difficult for him to justify but – but still something that his little girl would treasure all the way in Brazil.

Bianca carried the comic with her everywhere now. She’d slipped it into her DADA textbook so the pages wouldn’t crinkle, and she pored over it at mealtimes too. The first-years had just been released from Herbology, so Bianca hurried along the corridor now to her favorite reading nook. She tended to avoid the library – there was peer pressure to actually be productive whenever she set foot in there – so she’d found a quiet corridor where she could read her comics instead. Bianca settled into the comfortable window seat with a lovely view of the rainforest, although her nose immediately settled into the pages as she restarted the thin comic for the fifth time.

“Oi, Rivera!” Bianca looked up as a pair of first-years rounded the corridor, two of her fellow classmates. “Luis, Fernanda,” she greeted cautiously, lowering her book the slightest inch to take in the pair. One more disadvantage of being a Muggleborn among wizards – many of the families already knew each other, and she’d arrived to find that cliques had been forming years before she’d even known magic was actually real. She couldn’t quite remember how Luis and Fernanda had become friends, but the natural inclination was to say their parents worked together. The magical community was small, even in Latin America. They had an odd mix of countries represented – mostly Brazil, but also Argentina, Venezuela, Colombia, Peru, El Salvador, even a few others from Chile. They weren’t enemies, by any stretch of the imagination, but they weren’t friends either. Just a couple Brazilians who enjoyed their home turf advantage, and laughed at all the Spanish-speakers learning Portuguese for the first time.

Fernanda looked smug, but Luis simply looked worried. That was a troubling sign. Bianca raised an eyebrow at them but didn’t say anything. She’d seen her father do this all the time with Marco, and even during her occasional trip to the precinct to watch him work. He would stay silent until the silence grew uncomfortable, and practically force the other person to speak first. That made them nervous, and could usually cause them to reveal much more than they’d intended. The tactic seemed to work, because Luis blurted out, “Your book is broken!” It wasn’t what Bianca had expected him to say, and she shot him a puzzled look. “No, it isn’t,” she contradicted, although she still flipped through the pages to see if she could catch what he was talking about. The comic looked exactly like it was supposed to – a few dozen pages of Batman kicking some serious ass.

The world would never know if Luis had actually been worried, or if it had only been a set-up for Fernanda. Either way, she quickly cut-in with a smug smile, “It’s not broken, Luis. It’s Muggle. Their pictures don’t move, remember? They can’t help it if that’s just the best they can do, poor little things.” Bianca had had enough of her mock sympathy, so she grit her teeth and felt her hands ball into fists. She stood quickly to be on equal ground with Luis and Fernanda, and narrowed her eyes as she responded testily, “Not everyone needs the pictures to move to understand what they’re supposed to be showing. Some of us can figure it out for ourselves, thanks.” Fernanda gasped in outrage and pulled out her wand. Luis looked nervous as he pulled his out too, but Bianca didn’t mirror the movement. Fernanda noticed and shot back, “What, Bianca, are you scared?”

It was so obvious what she was doing that Bianca stuck her nose in the air as she responded, sliding her comic under her arm. “Nope,” she said snootily, “Just waiting for you to give me a reason to find Professor Costa. No magic in the corridors between classes, remember?” With that, she turned on her heel and began to make her way down the hallway. She could hear Luis pulling Fernanda away and she smirked to herself as she turned the corner. It was tempting to pull out her wand – very tempting. But Papa had always taught her that a good officer needed to trust in the system. Put something in, get something out. It existed for a reason, and a good officer should uphold the values they defended (justice, protection, a fair future) without defiling them by playing dirty. She believed in her Papa, 100%.

2011 – second year

“Papa, I don’t want to go!” Bianca stormed as she stomped her way to her (well, her and Marco’s) room. She leaned against the door as she slammed it shut, but that didn’t change anything. Her Papa followed, and he was strong and managed to open it easily – despite the 12-year-old doing her best to keep it pressed tightly shut. Bianca huffed and moved to her bed, turning on her side so she was facing the wall.

“We’re going, tesoro,” her Papa responded, his voice as calm and steady as it always had been. He didn’t seem disturbed by his daughter’s tantrum – she got it from her mother, after all, and Bianca still had nothing on her Mama when she was angry. “You’ve always loved camping in Patagonia. It’s so quiet, remember? And the lights are beautiful.” Bianca wasn’t swayed, and she pouted as she studied the butterfly pattern on her wall. Marco had thrown a fit when six-year-old Bianca had slapped those stickers on her side of the room, but Mama had ruled that they could stay. It was artistic expression, after all, and most importantly in her half of the room. But she didn’t want to go camping! She wanted to play football with her friends and watch Gallant circle the apartment building whenever he came back with a letter.

“But Papa, I don’t want to do things the Muggle way,” Bianca whined, still not turning around, “And I can’t use magic out of school! Catalina says I could get kicked out.” Catalina da Silva was probably the best friend she had made at Castelobruxo – a pureblood who didn’t have any problem showing a Muggleborn how things worked. She came from an important family, but it never went to her head. That made her more bearable than most of the other girls in their year. Bianca had already finished her first year at Castelobruxo, and was due to start her second year in a matter of weeks. The traditional father-daughter camping trip Papa always took her on was in August, the dead of winter (but still no colder than 17 degrees, thank God). That meant there were never any other people around and they had the entire campground to themselves. He was right that Bianca usually loved their trips, but she didn’t want to do things the Muggle way anymore – lighting a fire by hand, struggling to set up a patched-up old tent, and eating cold meals during the day. All so she could watch a bunch of dumb lights at night. She couldn’t even remember what her life had been like before magic (you know, a year ago…).

If she had been looking at her father, she would have known that was the wrong thing to say. The strict tone he used with her now made Bianca stiffen her back in surprise and outrage. “Now listen here. The Muggle way is your way, your family’s way. Bianca, look at me.” There was a hardness to his voice that Bianca didn’t usually hear from her easygoing father. She turned in her bed, although kept her arms stubbornly crossed as she glared at him. “Bianca,” he continued in a softer voice, “I want to see you rise. I know you have what it takes to show all those…wizards and witches exactly how bright you can shine. But you listen to me, mamita. You never forget where you came from, understand? You’re the daughter of…of Muggles. This time last year, you didn’t own a wand and you couldn’t tell the difference between Abracadabra Alakazam and Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo.”

Bianca opened her mouth to interrupt and correct her dumb dad, but Papa raised a hand to stop her. “I know some of your classmates give you trouble for it. But you give them trouble right back! You should be proud of your roots. Learn to use them to your advantage. But more than that, they define you. When you’re some famous witch, and they want to put you on one of those chocolate frog cards you love to collect, what will it say? It’ll be the story of where you came from, everything you fought for. It’s what makes you my Bianca, not anyone else.” Bianca gave a grudging smile against her best efforts, turning her face into her pillow to hide it. Papa must have noticed, however, since he moved closer and sat on the edge of her bed. “And most important, it’ll remind you, no matter how far you go, that you will always have a family here in Santiago who loves you.”

“Now, start packing. It’ll be cold in Patagonia, bring a scarf.”

2012 – third year

“Come on Bianca, you want to be late for tryouts?” It would have been futile to remind Catalina that Bianca had already been waiting for 20 minutes, fully dressed and ready to leave the common room. The pair had been held up as Catalina had broken a nail and spent the entire time carefully filing it – because, you know, you simply can’t ride a broom with a broken nail. Still, Bianca huffed and said, “Oh sure, I’m the problem here.” Still, it was delivered teasingly and Catalina shot her friend a careless smile as she pulled Bianca behind her. They ran through the castle, dodging students in the corridors and the occasional professor who shot them a stern look. They finally made it to the broom shed, huffing and puffing after the near-sprint they’d managed for several minutes. Bianca fought to catch her breath as she fumbled with the lock, finally managing to swing the door open and examine the broom selection with a critical eye.

Catalina simply selected her broom, the sleek model her father had bought for her last year. Bianca stared jealously at the lovely broom, with a shiny handle and not a single twig out of place. Catalina was only an average flier, but it didn’t matter much when you had one of the best brooms on the market. Bianca didn’t have rich parents, and therefore had to rely on the selection of school brooms to choose from. If she managed to pass tryouts, she would beg her parents for a secondhand broom – anything would be better than these ancient monstrosities. Until then, she rifled through what was left. She immediately discarded a broom missing most of its tail, sniffed as she passed over another that looked like it had been vomited all over, and finally selected her usual broom. It was old, but Bianca had spent ages clipping the twigs and keeping everything tidy. She’d been practicing for so long – one of those open spots was hers.

“Hi I’m Bianca Rivera and I’ll be trying out for the role of Keeper,” she said in one breath as she skidded to a halt in front of the captain. The sixth year was much, much taller than the third year girls, and raised an eyebrow at them, clearly unimpressed with their tardiness. “Well, Bianca Rivera, let’s see what you can do,” he replied in a deep voice. She wouldn’t say that he was skeptical, but he certainly didn’t seem convinced that she could do a better job than the three previous Keeper candidates (fast fliers with terrible technique, in her opinion). She gave him a mock salute and mounted her broom, kicking off hard from the ground to circle the goal posts a few times and shake off her nerves. She could do this. She could do this.

“I did it!” she squealed to Catalina as she stumbled off her broom, trying to find her land legs again. She gave her friend, the newest Chaser for the team, a grudging hug as the other girl threw her arms around her. “Alright, gather round,” their new captain called. There was one other student who had also just made the team, a fourth year boy with a wiry frame and a shifty-looking face. The rest of the team were remnants from last year – their tryouts had been a mere formality since they were undoubtedly the best fliers in their positions. The captain definitely swung his Beater’s bat with a ferocity Bianca had never seen anywhere else – it was super cool and she’d love to ask him about his technique sometime. The team gathered together so the captain could detail his grueling schedule for the next few months.

A few months later…

Getting called into a professor’s office was never a good thing. Sure, sometimes Bianca would go proactively. She’d never gotten over her habit of searching for exotic plants so the Herbology professor could give a thorough overview of everything they were capable of. And the more time she spent in DADA, the more follow-up questions she had. After all, the professor had worked in the Ministry for a long time before taking up the post at Castelobruxo, and Bianca had questions. Her father’s precinct – Muggle law enforcement – seemed so far away now that Bianca had entered a world of Dark wizards and curses. 14 was too young to really know what one wanted to do for the rest of their life, but Bianca was pretty sure becoming an Auror was her destiny. She was determined that all her professors knew it, too.

So she’d been trying to scale down the amount of detention she’d been racking up, although her smart mouth always went off whenever a professor challenged her. So she paced nervously in front of Professor Souza’s office, wondering what this was about. She behaved in Transfiguration! And Professor Souza certainly couldn’t find any fault with her spellwork – Bianca had a natural talent for animal transfigurations, and hadn’t yet found one she couldn’t eventually master. The door swung open, and Bianca stuffed down her nerves and walked in confidently, taking the familiar seat in front of her favorite professor.

Professor Souza’s hair still changed colors fluidly, and as Bianca watched it morphed from a forest green to a light sky blue. She normally had a bright and cheerful face, whether she was talking about her latest vacation or discussing scientific concepts in class. Now, however, Souza looked serious, and Bianca met her eyes without betraying any of the nerves clustered in her stomach. “Enjoying Quidditch?” Professor Souza asked after a few moments of silence between the pair. That was the last thing Bianca had been expecting to hear and she blinked in surprise. “Um, yes professor,” she finally said uncertainly, swinging her feet as she stared at Souza. “I imagine you must be,” Professor Souza replied without missing a beat, “considering how many classes you’ve been missing for practice.”

Ah. Bianca should have known. She rushed to explain. “I’m really sorry Professor, it’s just been a lot of pressure,” she blurted out, flushing in embarrassment. “I don’t want to fall behind, and well…I don’t need to go to every Charms or Potions class. I can catch up on my own. And it’s really important that we win this next match, or we’re out of the rankings entirely!” She thought it was a pretty good argument, but Professor Souza looked unconvinced. She shuffled some papers in front of her, and by leaning forward Bianca could see that it was her grades for the term and a few notes from her other professors. It was easy to see the decline – Bianca wasn’t an O student, but she managed E’s fairly well and it was usually a shock whenever she received an A. But all that had changed after she’d made the Quidditch team. Suddenly she spent all her time practicing, eating and dreaming and breathing Quidditch. The captain had a hard-paced schedule, and all of her teammates took the sport so seriously. She and Catalina were the youngest members of the team, but Catalina also had years of practice from growing up with Quidditch. Bianca was always playing catch-up, and she just couldn’t do it all. Her grades had taken a nose-dive and she was barely passing most of her classes. A few more months and they might be DOA.

“You want to be an Auror, don’t you?” Professor Souza tried a new tactic. “That’s a demanding career, no matter where you go. The Brazilian Ministry accepted three trainees last year, but that’s unusual. Chile hasn’t taken any in two years.” These were new statistics, and Bianca’s heart clenched in anxiety at the thought. She hadn’t realized it was so hard to become an Auror. There were exams and scores, she knew all that, but only vaguely. Bianca didn’t exactly have anyone to question – the DADA professor had worked as an Obliviator, after all. “Oh,” she said with a sinking feeling in her stomach. “So, I suppose…you need good grades to be accepted.” Professor Souza seemed satisfied that Bianca had reached that conclusion on her own, and she steepled her fingers as she regarded the young girl.

“Quite right, young lady. Only the best are accepted as Auror trainees. You need good instincts, of course, but also good grades. They will look at everything when determining your worth to the department. So give them something to be impressed about, why don’t you?”

2013 – fourth year

“Bianca, are you reading the newspaper?” Catalina asked, scandalized as she found Bianca sprawled across the common room floor on her stomach. Sure enough, a large printed copy of The Daily Prophet was spread out in front of her, taking up a good amount of floor space. Catalina gasped as she added, “A British newspaper! Why on earth would you bother?”

Not responding immediately, Bianca carefully flipped a page and glanced over the black-and-white text. Some headlines flashed in bold, while others crawled around the edges. Large magical photographs boasted an impressive array of different subjects, with the main one on that page being of a witch – a famous British actress – flashing a dazzling smile at the camera. The headline announced the actress’s recent visit to WADA to encourage students to stick it out for their promised careers in the magical arts. “Yeah, so?” Bianca finally replied, tracing her fingers over the carefully inked text in English. “I need to practice my English. Four languages looks good to the Auror Office, doesn’t it?” She mouthed some of the words to practice forming the strange syllables in her mouth.

Catalina sniffed. “Spanish is useful. Portuguese is useful. And Italian is just pretty. But what good is English? Have you even seen the British? They’re all so dreary, and they talk like this!” she said, sucking in her mouth so she was speaking behind her teeth for the last bit. Bianca snorted at her, attention temporarily diverted from the article. “The United Kingdom has a much more important magical community than anything you’ll find here,” she countered, “and they’re so stylish! Look at her.” She gestured at the actress taking up most of the page, dressed in a stunning red gown, as if she was ready to walk the red carpet and not give a motivational speech to hopeful drama students. “You—are—all—stars,” Bianca read aloud slowly in English. “Are. Arrrrrr.” She repeated the word, trying to remember how she’d heard American actors on TV say it, and working hard not to roll her r’s like was her instinct.

Even Catalina couldn’t disagree with that, and she cast an interested look over the actress’s dress and jewelry before turning back to Bianca. “Fine. She looks like a proper movie star. But they’re not all like that! My father met with some British Ministry boys last week, and they all looked so odd. Like they’d been hit with Stretching Jinxes and…like they haven’t seen the sun in years!” Bianca had been examining the article again, but she looked up in interest at the mention of Catalina’s father. She didn’t know exactly what he did, just that he was some senior official in the Brazilian Ministry – something to do with the Department for Magical Games and Sports. “Oh right,” Bianca recalled, “The Quidditch World Cup is being held here this year. That’ll be cool! I wonder if we can get tickets.”

“Defending world champions!” Catalina agreed proudly. “But don’t distract me! Those Brits are weird. You’re better off forgetting about English and learning something useful, like French!” Agree to disagree, Bianca mentally thought as she turned the page and started a new article about an interview with a British cursebreaker for Gringotts Bank. Well, French might not be a bad idea, admittedly. Bianca wondered idly what sort of papers she could get delivered from Paris.

She’d barely gotten a paragraph in to the cursebreaker’s account of his latest adventure when Catalina started hitting her arm – the girl had sprawled on the floor next to Bianca to also examine the newspaper. “What?!” Bianca complained, looking up from a difficult sentence to glare at her friend. “Shut up!” Catalina hissed, “Paolo Pereira Azevedo is looking at you. Be cool!” Bianca felt her face deeply flush as she bored a hole into the Prophet with her gaze before looking across the common room at the fourth-year boy. Paolo was like…every girl’s daydream. He had dreamy brown eyes, dark caramel skin, and was taller than most of the boys in their year. He could always be seen with a group of friends, never alone, and was extremely popular. Not much of an academic rockstar, but who needed to be when they had a jawline that could cut glass? Bianca had been mooning over him along with half the year, but she didn’t swoon on sight like most girls did. That wasn’t her tendency, even if there was a meltingly handsome boy around. He was lounging casually with his friends across the common room, but as their eyes connected he shot a charming smirk at Bianca. She returned the look with a bright grin and a wave.

“Oh my god, what are you doing?” Catalina hissed as she grabbed Bianca’s waving hand and lowered it. “What?” Bianca demanded, “He smiled at me. Isn’t that, I don’t know, an invitation to go over there or something?” Catalina stared at her like she had just suggested wrestling a hippogriff, and Bianca blushed as she realized she must have said something wrong. “No,” Catalina corrected, “You definitely shouldn’t do that. You have to be, you know, feminine. He has to chase you. Just smile and look away, like you’re shy that he even noticed you.” That sounded dumb, and Bianca pointed out, “But I’m not. I want him to know I’m interested, right?” Catalina just sighed. “Just, do what I say okay? We’ll get you a date if it’s the last thing I do.” It couldn’t be denied that Catalina had much more experience with boys than Bianca did, so she grumbled for a second before agreeing. She caught Paolo’s eyes again, but this time just gave a reserved smile and looked away. Catalina hummed in approval.

For the next three weeks, Bianca did exactly as Catalina ordered her to. Catalina explained that she looked too boyish, dressed constantly in her Quidditch robes with her hair wild. So she started wearing braids and buns, dressed in her neat school uniform or pretty dresses whenever they could wear their Muggle clothes. And she could be so pretty, if only she would do something with it – at least, according to Catalina’s logic. So she started wearing makeup and was expressly forbidden to go digging for plants or do anything that could get her dirty. In fact, better not to do anything she normally did. Quidditch made her sweat in an unattractive way, and she was much too active in the Dueling Club. Guys didn’t want girls that could knock them flat on their backs, after all. They needed to be the one to win and defend the girl from whatever was being threatening.

Bianca was skeptical, but she couldn’t deny that Catalina got results. “Paolo can’t take his eyes off you!” she squealed in satisfaction one night. Bianca gave a grunt of acknowledgment but was too busy trying to remember how to eat soup in the ladylike fashion Catalina had taught her to respond. Then, after some days, he would always walk across the room after meals to talk with her – but Bianca, remember, always make sure he initiates, since it’s not attractive if the girl does. Then one afternoon he finally asked her out, and Bianca received a whole weekend of training from Catalina before she went off with Paolo alone. This was important, after all! Bianca had a date with the coolest guy in their year, and she absolutely couldn’t blow it. After all, it was so embarrassing that she was almost 15 and had never even kissed a guy before. And then 2 months later, it was official. Paolo Pereira Azevedo was dating Bianca Rivera, and they always went everywhere together.

“Our plan worked! Your first boyfriend, Bee,” Catalina observed in satisfaction as Paolo kissed Bianca goodbye and walked away towards his next class. Bianca knew she should be happy, because – you know, she’d gotten everything she wanted! Dating Paolo meant her popularity had skyrocketed, and now she had her own personal boyfriend to practice all these new techniques with. Every 15-year-old’s dream, right? But as good-looking as he was, and as lucky as she was, something didn’t feel right here. Bianca spent a few days thinking about it before she decided to share this creeping suspicion with Cat. “I don’t feel like myself,” she finally decided. “It’s not me dating him, it’s some weird Barbie doll version of me. He doesn’t even know about the things I like. He’s never once asked about my comics, or Quidditch, or even what my favorite class is.”

Catalina was busy reading over one of the witch fashion magazines her mother sent her to answer straight away. When she did, she sounded doubtful. “So? It’s not like you guys are supposed to be talking or anything. That’s not what you date a guy like Paolo for!” Bianca bit her lip in frustration as she hid behind her newest copy of The Daily Prophet, already a few days old because owl post took a while to deliver from London to Castelobruxo. “Maybe that’s the problem,” she said. “That’s not really a relationship. And I’m not being me. I think I need to end it,” she decided. That got Cat’s attention, and she put down her magazine in shock. “Bee, think about what you’re doing. Nobody breaks up with Paolo Pereira Azevedo. That’s his choice. Besides, this is what you want!”

“No!” Bianca snapped back, also putting down her paper. “What I want is to go to Dueling Club. What I want is to wear whatever I want without worrying what people will think of me. What I want is to go up to a guy I like and talk to him without being worried that he’ll think I’m being too obvious or that I’m not girly enough.” She was gaining steam the longer she talked. “What I really want is to be the best Auror of all time. And I don’t need a boyfriend to do that! And even if it is going to happen, it’ll happen because he likes me. Not because I’m pretending to be someone else. So thanks Cat, but I’m good. And I’m dumping him.”

2014 – fifth year

Nobody commented on the fact that Bianca Rivera had found an odd place to get comfortable, again. It was standard practice by this point, and all the fifth years were incredibly familiar with each other’s quirks by now. Antonio liked to practice for his future career as an actor in the middle of the common room, sometimes drawing in random spectators to play a random part in a play he was writing. Adriana and Aline, the twins, could be reliably counted on to start an argument in the middle of breakfast whenever one sister borrowed make-up from the other without asking, or wore a top that was so off-limits. And Luis was still a complete nervous wreck with terrible aim, constantly shooting off spells in Charms in the wrong direction. Sure, nobody complained when it was a Cheering Charm, but he’d gotten Gabriel with a vicious Tickling Charm the other day that had left the other boy breathless with laughter. Class had ended early so the professor could accompany Gabriel somewhere quiet to calm down.

So really, Bianca’s habit of throwing her feet up on the desk or finding a random window nook to read her Batman comics was quite tame in comparison. At least nobody went to the Hospital Wing because of it. Catalina had stopped commenting on Bianca’s insistence to buy at least one copy a week of The Daily Prophet and read it cover-to-cover. She’d come to terms with the fact that Bianca was serious about improving her English, although she also never asked whether there were any interesting stories that day. Still, Bianca would take what she could get. That day, however, there was something odd. Bianca had her newspaper with her, that much was normal, but she also had a thick scroll of parchment and a bottle of ink. She was tightly gripping her quill as she scribbled away on the parchment.

“What are you doing?” Catalina asked, her nose wrinkled. Bianca was broken out of her stupor by the fact that, rather than asking in their usual Portuguese, Catalina had asked in accented Spanish. Bianca considered it for a moment, before responding in clipped English. “Letter to the editor.” She didn’t elaborate further, only bent her head even lower over the parchment to keep writing. Catalina didn’t follow-up, but waited with a raised eyebrow. Bianca recognized it as the same trick she always used to get the other side talking, so she grinned and explained. “You can write to the newspaper with your opinion about something. It usually gets published. At least, mine do,” she observed happily as she set her quill down. She needed a break anyway – writing in English could be exhausting if she tried for too long. “I don’t know how many exactly. Maybe a dozen? I can’t help it, they publish a lot of wrong things that need correcting!” She answered Catalina’s unspoken question as the other girl opened her mouth and then closed it again. It was only a hobby, but she’d developed something of a regular correspondence with the Editor for Contributing Opinions, who had gotten used to the idea that a 16-year-old from Castelobruxo was reading and responding to articles in a British newspaper. He certainly seemed to recognize her name whenever he – or an intern, more likely – sent her edits.

She would have explained more, maybe gotten into what this particular letter would be about, but she was interrupted by Antonio, who at some point in the conversation had wandered over to the pair of girls. Bianca watched him warily, in case he had some part in mind for her – a three-line reprisal of an angry washerwoman! – but thankfully he didn’t try to spontaneously pull her into a short play. Instead, he lifted a hand in greeting and announced dramatically, “Brave Bianca-“ She interrupted to correct him, “Gallant!” He grinned at her and started over. “Gallant Bianca, I bear an urgent message from Professor Souza, who has summoned you to her office! You know, our career advice appointments.” He dropped the act for the last sentence, which he said with a shrug before eyeing Catalina with a mischievous look. “No!” she squealed as she ran away, leaving Antonio to trail behind her while composing a sonnet on the spot.

Bianca snorted but left her friends to it. Right, career advice. She’d almost forgotten about the appointments, because she honestly didn’t need it. She had known since day 1 that she wanted to be an Auror, and ever since that one conversation with Professor Souza a couple years ago…Bianca had taken a renewed interest in all the classes required to be an Auror. She’d worked so hard to improve her grades, and there would be absolutely nothing to stand between her and her shining future. So this was a formality, but she took the familiar path to Souza’s office anyway, pulling her hair into a tidy ponytail and adjusting the sleeves of her robes. She knocked primly on the door, and barely waited to hear Souza’s answer before pulling it open and walking in. “Afternoon, professor,” she said courteously, although it was belied by the casual way she slumped into her chair.

Professor Souza smiled at her. The lines in her face had become more pronounced over the years, although the bright grin and flamboyant orange hair kept her looking young. “Good afternoon, Bianca. I understand this appointment is more of a formality with you, although I still believe we can find something interesting to discuss.” The statement seemed innocent enough, but Bianca had known the professor for too many years at this point. Souza was building up to something, and Bianca was waiting for the other shop to drop. She knew better! Sure enough, the professor continued without waiting for an answer from Bianca. “I’ve heard from several of your classmates that you are working quite intently on your English and French. May I ask if you’ve decided to change your career ambitions to something more international?”

Bianca was quite eager to defeat that notion. “No, ma’am! I know what I want. I’m going to be an Auror, although I haven’t decided yet if I should try in Brazil or Chile…I just figured the extra languages would help my case. You said they examine everything about me to figure out if I’m worth the investment.” She spoke so definitively about her future, like it was only a matter of time until she got what she wanted. Professor Souza made a contemplative sound, pursing her lips as she considered her still-young student. “Yes, I thought so. But I thought I would ask, since your English is getting quite good…are you sure you want to limit your options to Chile or Brazil?” That was an odd thought – Bianca thought she was expanding her horizons, not limiting them. Her Papa was the one that had mentioned staying in Brazil longer, although Mama was quite insistent that she should come back to Santiago de Chile. It had never crossed her mind to think ‘bigger’ than Latin America.

“Um, no professor,” she said honestly, unsure how to respond. “But…aren’t there plenty of opportunities here? You said Chile finally accepted its first Auror trainees for a while last year.” That much was true, although Professor Souza had the same expression on her face now as whenever she was weighing how to tell Bianca something she might not want to hear. Finally, she spoke. “That’s quite true. But I’m sure you’ve noticed the magical community in Latin America is quite small. Certainly nothing compared to America or Europe in terms of size and global impact. You would do quite well here, I’m sure. But I wonder if it wouldn’t always be the small pond compared to the oceans you might find out there.”

Bianca sat ramrod straight on her chair. “But, professor…this is my home,” she protested weakly. Professor Souza smiled at her, her hair turning a warm shade of red. “Yes, Bianca. This will always be your home. But, chica, you’ve never been one to set your own limits. It would be difficult to leave, but you might find things you could never even imagine if you’d simply set your sights a little higher. After all, we all have wings. But we must take the risk and learn to jump…in order to discover if those wings are worth anything.”

2015 – sixth year

“Oh God, you aren’t going to cry, are you?” Bianca asked, recoiling slightly as Rodrigo’s dark eyes looked suspiciously shiny. “Look,” she said quickly, desperate to avoid that scenario. “There’s nothing wrong with you. I-I just don’t want anything more serious. You’re talking about dates and the future and that was never what this was about.” The more words that came out of her mouth, the more it became evident that she had said the wrong thing. Her boyfriend – well, ex-boyfriend now – looked less emotional and more stormy now. “Oh, is that all this was to you? A good time? Finding someone to waste a few hours with whenever you can’t sleep? Good luck getting into your Auror program, then, without a heart!” He stormed off, and Bianca stood stiffly as she watched him walk away. There was no part of her that was tempted to follow, though, and she felt relief more than anything as he turned a corner and left her alone.

Next time, someone less clingy, she decided, debating what to do with herself now that she had an hour or two to kill before dinner. It had gone faster with Rodrigo than she’d been expecting – after her experience with Daniel, at least, who had taken the news much more badly that he wasn’t ‘relationship-material.’ God, what was it with the guys in her year? She didn’t mind showing an emotion or two, but she was clear with every guy – no serious dating. She had an Auror program to be accepted into, after all, and sixth year was so much more demanding than anything that had come before. She needed stress relief, not a relationship. It seems she tended to choose badly in that regard, since Rodrigo and Daniel had both shown signs of wanting more than what they’d agreed on in the past – only physical, no feelings or strings attached.

“Thank god that’s over, huh?” If Bianca had been any less disciplined, she would have jumped a foot in the air at the unexpected voice. As it was, she only inhaled sharply and turned to see who had seemingly witnessed that rough break-up. “Sorry,” the voice laughed, a girl coming out of the shadows with her hands raised placatingly, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But I dropped my glasses and was looking for them when you two came around the corner. Thought it best not to move.” She held up a pair of square glasses, and Bianca relaxed slightly. Her hand had unconsciously drifted towards her wand, but she crossed her arms defensively instead. “Got something to say?” she challenged, raising both eyebrows at the other girl. She recognized her now, a seventh-year whose boyfriend was on the Quidditch team with Bianca. She saw her around occasionally, and searched for her name now. Francesca, right.

“Not at all,” Francesca corrected, taking a moment to put her glasses back on. “I got the gist of it. You don’t want anything serious now, right? I can respect that. He should too, sounds like you were pretty transparent about it.” The words she was saying were fairly reasonable, so Bianca relaxed more. “Yeah, that’s right,” Bianca confirmed, “And there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m not lonely. I just…I’ve got dreams. Big plans.” Francesca nodded in agreement and smiled at her, and even in the darkness it wasn’t hard to see how beautiful she was. Bianca watched warily before inching out of the corridor.

A few days later, Bianca and Catalina were sitting in the common room, struggling to finish their essays for DADA. “I hate dementors,” Catalina complained, shuffling through a few pages of notes for more relevant material. Bianca didn’t reply right away, so Catalina raised a hand to her friend’s head and knocked. “Hello, earth to Bianca!” Bianca blinked and caught Catalina’s hand before she could continue her silly knocking, frowning at her. “Nobody likes dementors, Cat,” Bianca finally said, registering what her friend had been complaining about. But her friend’s attention had been sufficiently diverted. “Um, hello, no! You think I’m not going to comment on the fact that I just caught you staring at Carlos?” She gestured to the far corner of the common room, where Carlos (their Quidditch teammate and a fairly decent Chaser) had his arm around Francesca, who was laughing at something he’d just said. Bianca stared at the pair for a moment before glancing back at Catalina. “Oh, um, that’s right. Don’t know what I was thinking,” she muttered, pulling her essay closer and bending her head over the parchment. Catalina raised an eyebrow, but was interrupted by the sound of someone calling her name. She glanced over her shoulder, smiled at Antonio, then gave Bianca a warning look. “We are not done talking about this.” With that, she got up to see what her dramatic boyfriend wanted.

Full disclosure – Bianca did think Carlos had an interesting look to him. He wasn’t traditionally handsome, but he had clever eyes and was quick-to-smile. Her eyes lingered in interest on Carlos for a minute before her gaze was inevitably pulled sideways to the real reason she’d been sneaking glances before getting caught by Cat. Francesca had her hair pulled back into a complicated-looking braid, and her skin seemed to glow in the firelight. Her eyes were a light hazel – rare in these parts where everybody tended to have darker features – and she had a dazzling smile. They were odd thoughts, ones Bianca hadn’t had before for another girl. But she couldn’t ignore any longer that she found Francesca as equally magnetic as Carlos, and she felt her stomach twist.

After that realization, Bianca found herself jumpier whenever she was around the pair. It wasn’t unusual – she and Carlos were teammates, after all, and it was normal for people to come watch their Quidditch practices. It was after one such difficult practice, one where Bianca and several other players had gotten yelled at by their captain, that Bianca found herself alone in the changing room. She set her broom down and kicked the bench in frustration. She could have played better, shouldn’t have let those last few goals in. They’d be slaughtered in their next Quidditch match if she kept playing like that. “Don’t take it out on the bench,” a voice laughed from behind her, and Bianca only slightly startled before turning around to face Francesca.

“You keep sneaking up on me,” she accused the other girl, although she couldn’t help but smile, “Maybe you should consider applying to be an Auror too.” Francesca returned her grin but only shrugged, moving to take a seat on the thoroughly-scolded bench. Bianca slumped down next to her, struggling to remove some of her protective gear (she was still frustrated, and that made her less coordinated). Francesca snorted and began to help her with her kneepads, then her elbowpads. “I didn’t realize Keepers wore so much protective gear,” she observed, although Bianca was paralyzed at her closeness and didn’t respond. She didn’t know what to say, or what to do with herself. Eventually she met Francesca’s eyes. “They, um…have to make sure I stay in one piece,” she finally said. The touching wasn’t so unusual, because Francesca was a physically affectionate person – more than Bianca, at least. She was always casually touching her friends, hugs or little pats on the hand. But they hadn’t been alone since that one conversation in the corridor, and they were very close now. Darkness had fallen outside, leaving the changing rooms poorly lit, and Francesca hadn’t moved her hands away.

What the hell, why not? Bianca’s heart was pounding, her mouth was dry, but she couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do more than close the distance between them. So she leaned in and kissed Francesca, not intending to try anything more than a brush of the lips. But she gasped in surprise as the other girl responded eagerly and deepened the kiss, pulling Bianca closer. Their teeth gnashed, hands wandering everywhere, and it could have been minutes or hours before they separated. Bianca held her hand up to her newly-marked neck, speechless with shock and desire, as Francesca got up and left. She went to bed that night feeling dizzyingly triumphant.

The next day, she didn’t know what to expect. Would Francesca break-up with Carlos? Would she come find Bianca right away, or wait a little out of respect to Carlos? But Bianca was shocked when Francesca wouldn’t meet her eyes next morning at breakfast, and sped out of the room before Bianca could approach her. That same pattern continued all day, then all week, and then it began to stretch into two weeks. Bianca began to get worried – had she crossed some sort of line? What had she done wrong? The sense of victory began to turn into concern and dread, until she was convinced that they just needed to talk. They’d figure this out. She didn’t have to wait long for her opportunity. Quidditch practice had gone late, so the mess hall was almost empty as Bianca ate a hasty cold dinner and began the long trek up to the common room. She was so distracted she didn’t notice Francesca until she physically ran into her in a dimly-lit corridor.

Bianca stumbled, but Francesca automatically reached out and helped her regain her balance – before realizing who it was and immediately pulling her arm back. Bianca stopped her from bolting by raising an arm – a deserted corridor seemed to be the best she was going to be able to do. “Francesca, what’s been going on?” she demanded, not one to beat around the bush. The other girl wouldn’t even look at her, but after a few moments of silence made eye contact with Bianca. “Nothing,” she said with a smile that looked incredibly fake, not reaching her eyes. “I’m just tired. Long day, right?” She made as if to sidestep Bianca, but she stopped her again. “You haven’t spoken to me since…that night. What’s wrong?”

She should have expected Francesca’s answer after the dodgy behavior of the last two weeks, but was still blown away by it. “Nothing’s wrong. Nothing happened.” She had crossed her arms defensively, and Bianca stared at her with her mouth open. “Yes it did,” she finally said, “we-“ She was quickly interrupted. “No!” Francesca protested, “Nothing happened because it’s wrong. God says two women shouldn’t…you know. That’s sinful. So nothing happened.” Bianca couldn’t help but be reminded of that day, all those years ago, when Professor Souza had come to tell her family that she was a witch. How, years later, Mama still hadn’t come to terms with it, and protested that Bianca shouldn’t go back to school every time she visited home. She couldn’t get that thought out of her mind. “Sinful?” Bianca said angrily, crossing her arms too. “We’re witches. We learn how to use the magic we were born with. And we were born with this too. What’s sinful about that?”

But Francesca was back to stubbornly avoiding her gaze again. “It’s different. I can’t help being a witch. But I’m not…that. I’m going to end up with a man, don’t you want that too?” Bianca stared at her. “Maybe I will,” she began slowly, “and maybe I won’t. It’s all the same to me, I don’t care.” Francesca finally looked at her again, and her gaze was disbelieving. “It’s all the same?” she repeated in a whisper. “It’s not! What would your mother say?”

That was the wrong thing to ask, and Bianca snapped. “I don’t care anymore! I’m tired of being rejected for being me! I’m a witch, and I’m bi! Is that the word you’re too afraid to say? I’m not afraid anymore, I am who I am and I’m tired of being sorry for it!” She regarded Francesca coolly. “But fine, go pretend whatever you want. See how happy that makes you.” Bianca turned on her heel and left without another word, seething with anger but also absolutely meaning every word she had said. She wouldn’t talk to Francesca again.

2016 – seventh year

“Rivera, Bianca!” The Headmaster announced as she walked down the aisle to accept the scroll neatly tied with a deep purple ribbon that documented her graduation from Castelobruxo. Bianca beamed as she accepted the scroll and searched the crowd, waving as she found Papa and Mama sitting in the middle of the section reserved for parents. Her Mama looked properly emotional, crying at the sight of her daughter graduating – even as she ignored all the obvious signs of magic around her. Papa wasn’t crying, but he looked suspiciously misty-eyed as he waved back at her and gave her a thumbs-up. Scroll in hand, Bianca made her way towards the other seventh-years in time to get tackled by Catalina in a tight hug. For once, she returned it without complaint. “We’re finally getting out of here!” Catalina screeched in excitement, and Bianca agreed happily as she carefully held her scroll at arms-length to avoid getting it smushed in all the commotion. “Next stop, the real world,” she agreed, sweeping her eyes across the fabulous set-up Castelobruxo had arranged for their graduation ceremony. Bianca couldn’t believe this might be her last time seeing the castle – the place she’d called home for the last seven years. Her eyes connected with Professor Souza’s, who tilted her head in respectful acknowledgment, but whose eyes seemed to be sending her a message that dimmed the mood. Choose, they said. Bianca’s smile faltered, and she turned back to Catalina as the girl began to gather their classmates in a large group hug.

A few weeks later…

After so much time away, it seemed impossible to return to the same old small apartment, one floor below surface-level, in Santiago de Chile. Despite it being the middle of the day, sunlight barely shone through the windows to paint the whole apartment in a watery light as Bianca helped her mother set the table. Despite the fact that she was a fully-fledged witch now, with her wand carefully stowed in her pocket, Bianca refrained from using magic. Mama had become more accustomed to the idea of her daughter being a witch, and had even agreed to attend her graduation. Even Bianca knew not to push it any more than that.

“Of course, you’ll have to find your own place soon, once you move back for good,” her mother happily chattered away in Italian as she handed Bianca two handfuls of silverware. Bianca grimaced slightly and made eye contact with her father, who was sipping a cup of coffee in the kitchen. He shook his head slightly at her – Wait. They’d already spoken at length about this, but Bianca had been unsure how to break the news to her mother. As it was, she trusted Papa’s judgment, so she only shrugged and didn’t say anything in response as they finished setting the table.

Later, much later, after the celebration had wound down and all the close and distant family members had gone home, the three of them settled into the living room. Marco was still who-knows-where. He’d made a brief appearance at the beginning to pat Bianca on the back and congratulate her, then he’d gotten a call and disappeared for the rest of the night. Papa had made a stern face of disapproval, but hadn’t stopped his son from leaving. So it was just the three of them as Bianca began to pick up dishes while her parents sat on the ratty old sofa. “Mama,” she began, finally deciding it was time to broach the sensitive topic. She chose Italian – it was always better to give bad news in a comforting language, especially when it came to her mother. “About my plans, now that I’ve graduated…” Her mother looked up from her knitting, an expectant look on her face. Time to get some answers! Next to her, Papa coughed and buried his nose deeper into his book. No help was coming from him.

“I’ve decided on a country. And I’ve been accepted into their Auror training program, so I should leave soon,” Bianca continued, her voice more tentative than normal. She didn’t mind delivering bad news, had done plenty of it the last few years, but her mother was a special exception. Nobody could quite get Bianca to behave like Mama, or worry about putting even one toe out of line. Her mother’s face fell. “Leave? So you’ve decided on Brazil, then?” She continued before Bianca could interject. “Oh, that’s not so bad, I suppose. It isn’t so far! You can visit us all the time. Congratulations, mamita.” Bianca winced. Her mother’s acceptance almost made it harder to admit which country she had actually chosen, because she knew Mama wouldn’t be so calm about it. She was also reluctant to point out that with magical transportation, distance didn’t matter so much anymore.

“Actually, it’s…the United Kingdom. I’m moving to London! They’ve got the best Auror program in the world.” This last fact was almost drowned out by her mother’s gasp of outrage, and she jumped up immediately to join her daughter at the table. “The United Kingdom!” she blustered, slamming her hands into a chair angrily. Bianca didn’t say anything, but continued to pick up plates while avoiding looking at her mother. “All the way across the sea! A full day to travel by plane! Why would you do this to your mother!”

That was the cue Bianca had been waiting for. “I didn’t do this for you, Mama, I did this for me,” she said pointedly. “It’s the best Auror program there is, and I’m lucky I got accepted! Professor Souza says it’s important to challenge oursel-“ She was cut-off by her mother. “Oh, well if Professor Souza says, then of course it’s right! She’s stealing you from us for a second time now. Except instead of a prestigious school in Brazil, it’s all the way to London now!” It was the same old argument, and Bianca huffed in annoyance at Mama’s obvious hatred of Professor Souza – the woman whose only crime, really, had been telling Bianca she had magic and giving her guidance all these years. “I’m going, Mama. My future is in London, I can feel it. And of course I’ll come visit too. So often that you’ll be sick of me,” Bianca offered, rounding the table so she could face her mother. They looked so similar it was almost like looking into a mirror, except Mama was 30 years older and there were signs of exhaustion and depression evident in her face. Bianca risked it and pulled her mother into a hug, and glanced over her mother’s shoulder at Papa.

“I have to do this,” she whispered, unsure who exactly she was speaking to. “It would be too easy to stay here, in this corner of the world everyone’s forgotten about. There are big things waiting for me in Britain. Life-changing. I’m not scared to go find them.”