Jacob Have I Loved

Blame Each Other Challenge: for angelofthenorth

"Jacob have I loved, and Esau have I hated"

Tildy hated living on the island. She hated her younger twin sister Lydie as well. Lydia was the fair-haired, blue-eyed one, Lydia was the smart one, Lydia had the voice of an angel and could draw as well as anything in the battered books their parents owned, Lydia was the one everybody loved. Her grandmother always grumbled about Tildy, how she looked and acted exactly like her father. "Matilda should have been born a boy, Phillip," the old woman would say at dinner or on a quiet Sunday afternoon in the parlor. "She looks exactly like you, and she runs around like a savage. You'll never get her married off. No one will have her." Her father and mother would never say much to that.

And then Lydia got the letter from Hogwarts when she was eleven. Everyone but Tildy was surprised. Tildy had known for years that her sister was different, was magical, but she was not. She was just plain, brown, wild Tildy who should have been a boy. Her mother took Lydie to the mainland, and took her shopping for the magical books. Tildy stayed behind with her father, and helped him on his fishing boat. Grandmother was even worse. "No looks, no manners, no magic. Ah, what a pity she wasn't born a boy, Phillip."

When the time came for Lydia to go off to Hogwarts, Tildy asked, "Can I go with you, Mother? Please?"

Her mother asked, "Why do you want to come, Tildy?"

Tildy looked back at her mother. "To say goodbye to Lydie for the school year. Please, Mother, please."

Her mother raised an eyebrow. "If your father can spare you from the boat, you may go."

Tildy was wide-eyed when they reached the mainland, and took the mail coach to London town. She had never seen so many people or heard so much noise in her entire life. Her mother and Lydia went to the special wall on the street, and Lydia walked through alone. And suddenly Tildy knew she would die if she went back to the island, if she went back to her grandmother's constant criticism and her parents' silence, and she ran through the barrier as well.

She managed to hide well enough from her sister on the coaches; it was easy. Lydie didn't care about anything but herself. Lydie would never think that her ugly older twin sister would dare to come on the magical coach. Tildy struggled into a spare robe that one of the older students had lent her, and left the coach looking almost like she belonged.

A formidable-looking woman, tall and with black hair, in green robes and a proper witch's hat, announced that she was Professor Pritchard, the Deputy Headmistress. When Tildy got to the doors of the castle, Professor Pritchard stopped her. "Miss Matilda Hopkins?" she asked. "Surely there must be some kind of mistake?"

Tildy drew herself up to her full height. "I can't leave, Professor Pritchard." The words came tumbling out all of a sudden. "It'll kill me. I'll kill myself if I have to stay with my grandmother anymore."

Professor Pritchard raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. And what place is there here for a Squib, Miss Hopkins? We cannot teach you anything."

Tildy started crying. "I don't care, I don't care. I'll do anything to stay, I just can't go back."

Professor Pritchard looked at her with pitying eyes. "I see." She called over one of the prefects, and had the boy escort her up to the Headmaster's office.

After a long time, Professor Pritchard and an old man with a very long white beard came into the office.

"So, Miss Hopkins. It appears that you are a Squib," the old man said to her.

"Whatever that is," Tildy replied.

The old man sighed. "A Squib is somebody from a magical family who cannot actually do magic. This is why you were not sent a letter along with your sister. However, magical strength varies, and it appears that you have some ability, but you are just under the cutoff limit for Hogwarts. I am sorry, Miss Hopkins."

Tildy screamed with rage and pain as his words sunk in. Not good enough, not good enough, always the second-best, always, always, always behind your sister. "Then turn me into a boy so that at least I can be of some use in this world!"

Professor Pritchard and the old man looked at each other. "Very well, then, " the old man sighed. He extended his wand, and spoke a few words. "Congratulations, Mr. Matthew Hopkins."