thick skin and an elastic heart

Chapter 1

Notes: I'm reposting this from AO3. I figured it was better to have the story in two places.

The cold, damp air bit at Juliana's face and she tightened the scarf around her neck. Her footsteps echoed through the otherwise empty corridors, as everyone else was in the Great Hall, or the common rooms with their friends. Her scarf tickled her nose. The entire uniform felt uncomfortable like her body knew she wasn't supposed to wear it. She didn't belong here. She didn't belong at Hogwarts, where her accent stuck out like a sore thumb, where no one pronounced her name correctly (Juliana with an H sound, not Yuliana), and the food - ugh. She didn't belong on this continent, much less as far north as she'd ever been in her life. Her home was San Antonio, Texas, with its oppressive heat and humidity during the summer times, or Ilvermorny during the school year, deep in the mountains. She missed them both. She missed watching the leaves change from the castle's perch on Mount Greylock, nestled among the spruce trees, and the greenery in the spring when the aster bloomed.

More than anything, she missed her mom.

Lupita didn't understand magic, and as a no-maj (muggle, the British wizards called them muggles, Juliana reminded herself) she never would. She didn't know her husband was a squib when they got married so how was she supposed to know that magic sometimes skipped a generation or two; lingering dormant for decades at a time. Juliana's magic shocked everyone to the core except her father. She'll never forget his face when they found out: a dangerous mixture of disgust and rage.

Despite the unique struggles that came with raising a magical daughter, Lupita adapted. The Valdés women were resourceful and knew how to land on their feet.

Maybe, if Juliana were kinder, she could forgive him. She could chalk up his mood swings, drinking, and explosive temper on his situation. It couldn't have been easy being born a squib - non-magical in a magical family. That's the excuse Lupe repeatedly made for him, he's had a hard life Juliana or have empathy, Juliana. Juliana wasn't like her mother. She inherited her father's ability to hold a grudge. The spite settled into her soul until it calcified into something permanent.

Everything was Macario "El Chino" Valdés' fault. Every bad memory and every miserable experience in her life were all were linked to him. He was the reason she was a continent away, in a foreign country for school instead of home. He was the reason they fled their home, running for their lives with dangerous men a step behind them. Resentment swelled in her, setting her face back into a resting scowl. She did not notice a swarm of first years parting like the Red Sea as she stomped past them.

If she had gold, they could get away from him and his darkness. They could start over somewhere new, maybe Mexico, where her mother was from, or even further south.

Juliana ran her hand over her inside pocket, feeling for the slip of smooth parchment paper. Her fingers skimmed over it for the thirtieth time. The crinkles reassured her it was still safe. She removed her hand and chewed on her thumbnail.

She pushed open the doors to the Great Hall. The sky glowered grey with dark, rolling clouds, hiding the sun. The brightest light source glowed from the center of the room. The four, long, house tables were moved to the sides, creating a clear pathway. A gigantic wooden goblet stood in the center of the room. It was as tall as the average man, and filled to the brim with leaping blue-white flames.

The Goblet of Fire.

Its light cast flickering shadows on the students seated around it, well away from the boundary of the age line.

Juliana froze near the door, which closed behind her with a thud. She crept off to the side and out of the way. Her thumbnail stung as she bit harder. She only needed to put her name in. The rest was up to chance.