Yawan Letre

Yawan Letre was born on September 7 in a small house in the village and lived there with her two siblings and parents until she was 11—when she received her letter to Hogwarts, the family moved to a high-rise in London.

As was so often the case, Yawan was the simplest of the three children.
She didn’t need much.
It always seemed to her that this was the reason she was so often overlooked.
Yet she was the only one of the three siblings with magical abilities.
Although her family was pure-blood, Sebastian and Charlotte were not; they were Squibs.
Rosaliene loved each of her children equally. Yawan knew that.
But why did it sometimes seem different to her?

Yawan was nine when she tiptoed barefoot across the large sandstone tiles of the little cottage. The garden had always been her favorite spot here at the house.
She ignored her mother’s worried voice, which was hysterically ringing in her ear.
Yawan knew that her mother and father had been arguing more often lately. Even though they tried to do it secretly so as not to wake Sebastian, Yawan, and little Charlotte. But with Dan, it was the same—only whispered.
It was about her.
“But understand, Nathaniel!”
it shrieked again. Nathaniel crossed his arms.
“Yawan should have shown us some of her magic by now,” he said again and sat down resignedly on a garden chair. “If she even has any,” he muttered.

Lost in thought, Yawan walked out through the little garden gate and made her way to the small river that flowed into an even smaller pond full of frogs.
She already knew how the argument would go.
Rosaliene would accuse Nathaniel again of working too long, and he would reply that as an Auror, one simply can’t always be at home, and that life won’t wait for him.
Then Mother would say again that he was missing out on her children’s lives, and he would storm back into the house.

Yawan waded into the shallow little lake.
It was always the same. It was mean. She didn’t want to be a little girl like her siblings; she wanted to be grown up.
A wave of anger washed over her, and she glared at the sparkling water.
Why did she always have to be the scapegoat and take the blame for all the family’s problems? She already blamed herself for not being able to perform any magic yet. She didn’t want to be constantly reminded, like Sebastian, that she didn’t own a wand or would never be able to fly lazily on a broomstick.

She sank. The air was forced out of her lungs as she plunged into deep water. The ground beneath her feet was gone, and she fell like a stone.
What the—… the water enveloped her body and slid lightly around her like a snake. She had to hold her breath before the ground beneath her, like a vehicle, jolted back into place under her feet, and she was now standing there soaking wet, her knees in the water. Confused and trembling, she stood on her toes, which had a firm grip on the muddy ground. How could she…? Was that…? Was that magic? Had she just made the little lake deeper?