This turned out a lot heavier than I had envisioned for the story, but it's all to set up Sejeong's character. I promise it isn't going to be a heavy series all the time (on the contrary, heavy stuff tires me out too easily).

It's a chapter with Sejeong's backstory so it only involves her out of the 11 girls, but I assure they'll appearing bit by bit in the coming chapters!

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Sejeong has never known her father.

Like any other normal child, she can hardly even get a grasp on her earliest memories. All she knows is that for every moment that she recalls, it has always only been her and her mother. She remembers the only moment where she had ever approached the topic, curious like any other 4 year old. She also remembers the intense flicker of something across her mother’s face, followed by a quick dismissal of the issue.

If there’s one thing Sejeong hates the most, it’s hurting her mother.

So she locks the curiosity deep within her and wears the tiny key around her heart.

Sejeong doesn’t have a father.

---

She was 7 when she first discovered what magic was.

It hadn’t been intentional; it never was. They - a ragtag bunch of 8 scruffy children, including her - had been up to their usual 7 year old business: climbing trees and wrestling. On the top of the tree. Needless to say, it hadn’t been long before one of them (unfortunately, her) had exerted too much strength and her wrestling partner (even more unfortunately, a boy who had close to zero reflexes) had been sent tumbling an entire 4 metres down.

Sejeong only recalls reaching out for him on reflex in her panicked state, but to no avail. Horror had marred her face, matching every other child present, as they had unwillingly spectated his plunge.

The collision had never happened.

No traumatising thud, no bones broken, no catastrophical consequences.

The audience of 7 up in the trees had gaped at the sight of the boy hovering a few inches above the ground - pale, completely shaken, but physically fine.

The lingering tingles in her hand were kept a secret from the others as they unanimously chalked the incident up to fairy godmothers keeping an eye on them.

---

Sejeong finds out that she’s different - even after taking into account of her magic - when she turns 9.

Throughout the past 2 years, she had naturally kept her magic a secret from everyone else, bar her mother. It hadn’t been that hard; she only needed to learn to control her emotions, which she had always excelled in anyway prior to her discovery of magic. The few occurrences that had inevitably happened had always been a pleasure to share with her mother, though: how she had caused a bully’s limbs to turn all wobbly so he couldn’t hurt the poor girl cowering in the corner, the sparkling golden ball that flitted around in the distance before she had eventually lost sight of it, and even a glimpse of what she could swear had been a man transforming into a hawk. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Except that one time.

She hadn’t even expected it to turn into something - it was a little strange that a toad had occasionally been sitting on one of their chickens’ eggs for a couple of days, but Sejeong had never been one to judge other beings’ choices. And then one fine day, she had entered their chicken coop to discover 4 new chicks and a snake. A snake with brilliant emerald skin, but whose eyes had been clawed out by the hens around.

A snake who had been calling out for help.

She had immediately rescued the poor thing - cowering in a corner - by having picked it up with her bare hands and shooing the hens away. She still doesn’t know how the chickens had managed to look somewhat disgruntled by her action, and the silent “really?” had hung in the air.

Having had an injured baby snake in her hands (who she had to keep cooing comforting words to due to its pained whimpers) and no clue on how to nurse it back to health, Sejeong had chosen the only wise path of action: take the snake to her mother and ask for help.

Yes, she had been surprised to see the snake too, but surely her mother screaming as if she had just witnessed a murder scene wasn’t warranted.

“Sejeong, get away from that beast!”

She frowns as the snake tenses up in her hands; she can feel the fear in it stemming from the noise around them.

“Mama, you’re scaring it. It’s only a baby.”

“That doesn’t make its fangs any less venomous! Sejeong, please, put it down and come here!”

The sheer desperation piercing her mother’s voice convinces her that the snake in her hands might really be of a dangerous breed, but the way it shrinks back and starts whimpering tramples any idea that it poses a danger to them.

“It won’t attack us; it’s just really scared right now,” she tries to assure. “You won’t do anything of that sort, right little one?”

Upon the question directed at it, the snake relaxes a little and coils itself around her arm, humming nervously in agreement. Sejeong looks up to examine her mother’s face. She hadn’t thought it possible for her mother to look even more horrified and dumbfounded than before, but her mother has always been full of surprises. She frowns, not liking her mother being anything but happy.

After a few moments of stunned silence - in which Sejeong spends and cooing to the baby while gingerly watching for her mother’s reaction - her mother finally regains her ability of speech.

“Did you ju--”

A flash of blue collides against the snake and her hand turns numb along with it. Faster than her brain can register, scarlet sparks strike her right hand once more and the baby hurls toward the ground, landing absolutely unceremoniously. Sejeong instinctively moves towards it, only to be hindered by a presence in front of her.

“Im, tend to the child in another room. Ms Lee and I need to have words,” the stranger’s gruff voice didn’t mar the clarity of his order.

A beautiful lady whose aura exudes kindness places a hand on her shoulder, signalling for her to start walking to another room. She doesn’t.

“It’s just a baby, please, don’t hurt it any further,” she turns around and pleads at the stern man, glaring down at her mother - she dislikes him already for posing a threat to her two precious beings.

He doesn’t even bat an eye towards her, and Sejeong has never known she was capable of feeling negative emotions with such intensity.

“Sejeong, follow the pretty big sister; she’ll keep you safe,” her mother orders, voice albeit wavering.

She feels utterly useless, wanting so desperately to tend to her newfound friend and stand up for her mother, who’s looking incredibly small under the man’s scathing glare, but she knows how powerless she is. A 9 year old with minimal tricks up her sleeve can’t do anything against a grown man with his arsenal of magic. A reassuring smile is directed towards her, and so she walks with the lady to her room, door closed immediately once they entered.

“I’m just going to check on your hand. Does it still feel numb?”

Sejeong tries to wiggle her fingers, but to no avail. She nods. The lady takes out a very polished stick and something within Sejeong panics.

“Relax, I’m just going to use a healing spell,” the lady comforts her with a smile and she nods apprehensively.

A muttered word later and her hand starts to feel again. Sejeong would have been surprised if she hadn’t already expected some sort of healing magic. She smiles gratefully at the kindly person in front of her, and is about to verbalise her thanks when a piercing screech rips through the air. Immediately, she’s on her feet.

“What was that?” The tremble in her voice providing insight to the full magnitude of her worry.

“What was what? I didn’t hear anything,” and the lady looks truly confused, Sejeong notes.

It didn’t stop her from charging towards the door.

She probably should have expected to be stopped immediately, of course. And true enough, the lady grabs her, struggling to prevent the equally struggling her from exiting the room.

Just as she escapes from the lady’s vice grip, she blacks out.

-

Apart from her forcefully induced sleep, Sejeong’s nights were filled with unrest and nightmares. The pained scream looped in her mind, unrelenting. Each play stabbed at her heart, somehow finding fresh areas to hurt each time despite it having already been punctured everywhere.

When she had awoken that day, there had been no trace of abnormalities. No beautiful lady keeping her away from the living room, no distasteful man belittling her loved ones, and no precious snake of hers that desperately needed her care.

Her mother had hugged her shell-shocked self and true to her nature at that time, she could not even muster up a response. She had registered all the words, though; her mother had explained how the snake she had unwittingly bred had been a Basilisk, how it could have killed everyone with brief moment of eye contact had its eyes not been gouged out by the chickens, how even then it could have bitten them and injected its lethal venom into their bodies, and how the people from the Ministry of Magic had come to deal with it. She had remained still as her mother had apologised, hadn’t moved when her mother had placed something in her hand, had no reaction when her mother had informed her that that was her Basilisk’s horn, a memento her mother had sneaked for her.

It had been the look on her mother’s face as she pleaded for Sejeong to never mention her ability to talk to the Basilisk that had woken her from her stupor. The sickening brew of unadulterated fear, hallowing dread and searing guilt in her mother’s eyes, complemented with her ashen face, had made Sejeong’s gut wrench. She had nodded, returning her mother’s embrace weakly, barely forcing out a whispered “I’ll be okay”.

She will be okay.

Sejeong buries the incident and her emotions deep within the crevices of her punctured heart, kept intact with amateur sutures. She throws the shovel away and locks the gate, wearing the miniscule key along with the promise around her heart.

Her Basilisk’s horn hangs around her neck, weighing down on the delicate skin each day as she continues to smile, convincing everyone including herself.

---

Sejeong loses her ability to form attachments the night before leaving for Hogwarts.

She had long since received her acceptance letter, a month before her birthday. As promised, her mother had brought her to Diagon Alley when she had finally turned 11 to purchase her cauldron, textbooks, and most importantly, her wand. She hadn’t actually received her wand yet; that day, her mother had simply requested for her Basilisk Horn, passing it to Mr Ollivander who had sported a mildly perturbed but intrigued smile.

As they collect it today, he wears that same expression as her wand is presented to her - a slightly spiked beige Hawthorn wand that starts perfectly straight from the furnished brown handle and ripples out towards the tip in curves. It reminded her of her late Basilisk, and apparently that had been Mr Ollivander’s intention.

“It’s been a while since I’ve handled a core not from my shop,” a twinkle of curiosity in his eyes as he regards Sejeong. “Use it well.”

His words seem to be laced with several meanings and Sejeong finds herself lost in pondering over the advice on her way back home. It lingers in the back of her mind as she busies herself with packing for her “10 month long holiday”, as she had so lovingly dubbed. It hadn’t felt like long before her mother enters the room, announcing that it’s time to go.

The next highlight of her day approaches as they trudge through unwalked forest trails. The spring in her step is inevitable; her mother had promised her a spectacular show of magic to accompany their picnic dinner, and she simply couldn’t contain her excitement. They emerge from the dense forest to a tiny clearing, complete with a stream and soft grass, and her mother lays their stuff down. Sejeong plops herself down onto the open mat, quivering in anticipation as she stares at her mother brandishing her wand.

Oddly, she had never seen her mother use magic before. Her mother had seemed knowledgeable with regards to the topic of magic whenever Sejeong had bombarded her with questions, but the lady herself had never actually displayed any tricks. Sejeong had asked her about this before, and her mother had just brushed her off saying she would show her when Sejeong had grown older.

Sejeong supposes 11 is a milestone age in this case.

Her mother does a quick flick of her wand and soon the basket of food is laying itself out, meat being cut and salad being plated. She gasps as cutlery move on their own, as if they had invisible butlers present. Another swish, and soon there are tiny specks of light dancing around them, as if the stars had flown down from the universe to join their little party. A flourish causes various flowers to bloom around them, and within moments the clearing has transformed from a dark plain to glowing garden. She even spots a doe and a hawk nearby, watching them.

Sejeong has never loved magic more.

“Magic can do some amazing things. It can make the people around you immensely happy,” her mother lightly taps her wand in the air and a flower flies to her, proceeding to give it to Sejeong. “But it can also do horrible things.”

A roaring, bellowing noise rips through the atmosphere as a stream of fire pours out from her mother’s wand. It charges through into the air, taking on the form of a dragon, and then a lion, and then a snake, and back and forth, constantly metamorphosing. Stricken with fear and quite a bit of awe, Sejeong sits still, wide-eyed and mouth ajar as she stared at the flames lashing out, thirsting to blaze through anything, everything, but never does under her mother’s control. As abruptly as they had appeared, the flaming beasts snuffed out into the air, leaving only a thin layer of smoke in the air as evidence of its flash existence.

“Fiendfyre,” her mother answers the yet articulated question. “Absolutely destructive and incredibly hard to control. But not impossible. Helpful if you’re in a pinch like being surrounded by an army of Acromantulas.”

The small chuckle that follows makes her suspect her mother had been speaking from experience.

“The thing is, no magic is inherently evil. Yes, there are spells that can inflict excruciating pain upon those afflicted, but remember, spells only exist when there is a caster. Ultimately, it is the witch or wizard who chooses what their magic will do. If you stick to your ideals and stay on your path,” her mother swishes her wand once more, and this time a bright white-blue light pours out, materialising into a polar bear, slowly padding towards them. “You just might be able to perform some of the most beautiful spells.”

The personified spell approaches her, eventually close enough to nuzzle its ethereal muzzle to her neck. It prods around her, emitting warmth and happiness Sejeong had never even expected spells to be capable of doing. She looks into its soft eyes and somehow sees brown ones, ever so familiar and filled with a maternal warmth she has always been blessed to receive.

“Always keep this in mind, Sejeong, and I’m sure you’ll become a fine witch who I’ll always be proud of.”

Sejeong feels like a balloon has been inflating within her as she tackles her mother into a hug. She affirms her resolve to become someone great and good, who can give her mother the world for having guided her to a beautiful one.

-

The surprises don’t end after they’ve left the clearing, though Sejeong could certainly have lived without the coming encounter.

They’re greeted by the very same doe and hawk who had been watching them in the clearing at their doorstep. Sejeong’s face scrunches in confusion while her mother visibly tenses.

And for good reason too, as she came to find out a beat later.

Her heart drops in rhythm with the transformation of the two animals into figures she could never forget.

“Pleasant night,” the same man who had taken her Basilisk away from her greeted.

Sejeong’s jaw is set, her permanent smile lost, even as the elegant lady from before smiles at her. She wants to demand a reason for their presence - to hell with age hierarchy - but he beats her to the punch.

“I believe it’s time to leave,” he addresses her mother directly, and this catches Sejeong’s attention.

Leave? Where to? She relays these questions through the brief eye contact shared between her and her mother, before the latter drops her eyes in guilt.

Sejeong’s heart plummets further.

“Give me some time to explain the situation, please,” her mother requests as she takes Sejeong’s hand, guiding her into their house. “Privately.”

The man nods as they brush past him.

She’s seated on the couch, her mother sitting on the single armchair opposite her. That had never been a good sign.

“Where are we going?” Sejeong bites the bullet and cuts to the chase.

“Where am I going,” her mother corrects, and it does nothing to help her sinking heart float. “You’re going to Hogwarts tomorrow. As for me…”

Her mother sighs as she drops her head into her hands, bent over with elbows resting on knees. Sejeong can feel the pricks in her heart, messy stitches snapping one at a time. She wants to cross over to the armchair, embrace her mother, cheer her mother up - but something keeps her ingrained into the sofa, watching by the sidelines as her mother breaks down and plucks up her courage.

“Remember what I said about how magic is dependent on the intention of the caster?” Sejeong apprehensively nods, not liking where this is going. “Your father… He hadn’t used them for good things. Horrible things, he had done. I had been the one sent to apprehend him.”

She feels the locks of her heart creaking at the mention of him, threatening to spill all the repressed issues within. It presses against her chest, an overdue boulder she hadn’t broken down in its early motions to flatten everything in its path. A part of her fears the impending breakdown she knows she will have, but she needs to know.

She continues staring, expecting.

“I didn’t. I couldn’t. And so I abandoned my responsibility as an Auror - the police of the Wizarding World of sorts - to run away with him. We had you, and then they eventually found us. He died trying to escape.”

Issues she had fought so hard to never surface were clawing their way out, festering and thriving on the new information. Struggling, she forces everything back in and barely succeeds through well-practiced motions. They still spike out, clogging like bile.

“And you?” She barely chokes out.

Her mother somehow manages to curl herself up even more, looking much smaller than a few moments ago.

“A life sentence to Azkaban Prison. Treason had been my crime, and it’s of the highest order. I had managed to get it delayed till you turned 11 and entered Hogwarts, so now…”

Sejeong doesn’t need a completion of the sentence to reach her own conclusion. Her mother, the only person who had ever known who she was, the person who had taught her everything, made her, molded her, loved her - and now she was going to disappear from Sejeong’s life.

She wants to cry. She wants to let her heart crumble, let it break properly so it could bide its time and heal properly. She wants to break down, deny the truth, futilely attempt to escape with her mother to prevent this predetermined outcome.

But she doesn’t, because she can’t.

She’s not the one hurting the most now.

So Sejeong gathers up the familiar motion and creates a smile, walking over to hug her mother.

"I’m glad you did what you had done, because it was through those actions that I managed to exist. I was going to be in Hogwarts most of the time anyway, so us being apart was bound to happen,” her steeled voice, painted a convincing shade, manages to persuade even herself a little. “7 years later when I graduate, I’ll become someone great enough to be able to visit you whenever, and get you out. So don’t be sorry, and don’t worry about me. I love you and will never blame you for the decisions you have made.”

Her mother regards her with such love that her heart heals instantly. A bone-crushing hug is her mother’s response as convoluted sobs erratically throb in the air, a sonata played solo as Sejeong remains mum, with only the minute areas of dampness on her mother’s shirt as evidence of her tears.

She doesn’t remember much of the aftermath of their last intimate moment. It feels as though time slithers by her as she watches herself follow her mother out the door, coming face to face with the man who had poisoned her world twice. They exchange silent words, and her mother falls into step beside them. Sejeong stays rooted by the doorway, the distance apparent to her but unable to close the gap.

Her mother does it instead and hangs something over her neck, lips ghosting her forehead.

"So that I’ll always be with you.”

Sejeong examines the item: a locket, the scenery from a few hours ago engraved on it. Specks representing the firefly-esque lights wafted lightly across it, flowers amongst the grass dancing lightly in the same rhythm, with a polar bear in the distance.

Then it hits her that her mother is leaving, for good, and that she will likely never see her doting expression another time, never hear her gentle chides once more, never feel her healing embrace ever again.

And so she allows herself one wrangled sob, and another, and then a final hug.

When they part, Sejeong ensures her brightest smile is sculpted on, reassuring and encouraging. Then they disappear into the night, and so does her smile.

Now, Sejeong doesn't have a mother either.

---

That night, Sejeong lies in bed, painfully aware of how alone she was. She can no longer feel the solid structure of her heart, however tattered the container had been; a mass of pain sears in the spot, everything able to flow out but instead concentrating just there, where her heart should have been. Everything was out now. The repressed emotions, the unspeakable issues, the truths. Unearthed from the graveyard where she had laid them down in hopes of them dying off, unleashed from the chests where she had chained them in, unrestricted by her poorly mended heart which had been seared away. 

Sejeong knows she cannot function without a heart.

So she directs everything to the only thing capable of containing anything now: her locket. She channels it all inside, and feels her heart mend and rebirth. 

The locket hangs around her neck, weighing down. It presses right against her new heart, a reminder of her repressed self.

She falls asleep with the comforting burden of a chained vortex within her, separate from her conscious, yet never leaving it.