Past Regrets, Future Fears [Penny]

[Julian Rossi]

Julian sat at his desk, sifting through the steady flow of paperwork that had become second nature over the year: student records, budget approvals, lesson plan adjustments, and the endless administrative demands that came with running Hogwarts. His quill moved efficiently over the parchment, signing off requests with practised ease, until his eyes landed on a letter that made his breath catch. It was a request from the substitute Care of Magical Creatures professor, seeking approval for a guest lecture. Nothing unusual on its own—professors often invited experts in their fields to speak to students—but it was the name listed beneath the formal proposal that sent a shock through him. Penelope Simpson.

Julian’s grip on the parchment tightened slightly as he read the name again, as though he might have misread it the first time. But no, it was there, as clear as the ink on the page. Penny. His daughter. It had been six years since Julian last saw her. He had sent letters with no expectation of response, and made sure she knew where to find him if she ever wanted to reach out. But she never did. Over time, Julian stopped writing, fearing that it would push her away further. He had deserved her silence, but that didn’t stop the ache of regret that had gnawed at him ever since.

And yet, now, here she was. Not by her own request, but by invitation—an invitation now resting in his hands, awaiting his approval. For a long moment, Julian simply stared at the parchment, a familiar ache settling in his chest. Over the years, he had kept an awareness of Penny from afar, never intruding, but quietly proud as she carved out a life of her own. Her name had appeared in the Daily Prophet from time to time, often tied to her work as a renowned dragonologist and her passionate advocacy for their protection. And now, unexpectedly, her name had found its way to his desk, presenting an opportunity he had never dared hope for.

Julian knew Penny was aware he was Headteacher; he had told her in his first letter all those years ago. He wondered, though, if she would accept the invitation now, knowing he would be here. Would she want to see him, or would this merely be another professional engagement for her, a part of her life that didn't include him? Julian exhaled slowly, pushing the ache back down. It didn’t matter. Penny had always made her own choices, and he had no right to expect anything from her. If she accepted, it would be on her terms, and he would not interfere; he wouldn’t seek her out, wouldn’t press her into a conversation she wasn’t ready for.

Julian signed his approval at the bottom of the parchment and placed it with the rest of the completed requests. He reached for the next task, determined to keep going, but his mind refused to cooperate. No matter how he tried to focus, his thoughts kept circling back to the invitation. Leaning back in his chair, he let his gaze drift over the papers in front of him, though he barely registered them. Penny. The invitation. The possibility of her being here. He should have pressed on, should have forced himself to work through the distraction as he always did. But for once, he couldn't. The tension in his chest tightened, making it impossible to concentrate. After a long, silent exhale, he finally pushed the papers aside, resigning himself to the fact that he wouldn’t get anything more done today.

________________________________________


The day had passed in a blur of routine and restraint, his every thought shadowed by the fact that his daughter was here, somewhere on the grounds, yet as distant as ever. It was common practice for Julian to sit in on guest lectures—a matter of courtesy, of professional interest—but today, he had stayed away, not because he didn’t want to see her, but because giving her space was the only thing he could offer her. He remained in his office, a silent invitation to Penny.; if she wanted to find him, she knew where he was. But the hours wore on, and still, she didn’t come.

Penny’s lecture had ended hours ago. She was likely gone, but the ache in Julian’s chest lingered. He had kept his composure all day, burying every emotion that had surfaced the moment he saw her name on that letter. Sitting alone now, in the quiet of his office, the silence felt oppressive. The walls seemed to close in, and the need to escape pressed on him. He couldn’t keep it together any longer. Without thinking, he left his office, his feet carrying him outside.

The cold night air hit him like a shock, but it was a welcome sensation. The grounds were empty, there was no one to witness his unraveling; only in solitude could the Headteacher drop his mask. Sinking onto a bench, Julian rested his elbows on his knees and let his head fall into his hands and for the first time all day, he allowed himself a moment to feel the weight of it all. The guilt, the loneliness, the years of estrangement. Six years of silence, of wishing for something he couldn’t have, of wanting to reach out but knowing he wasn’t welcome.

Penny had been here. And she had left. And Julian had let her.

[Penny Simpson]

Penny should have left hours ago, but she found herself still sitting on a bench in the courtyard, towards the edges, wondering what she was waiting for. She fiddled with her necklace, zoned out for a second before she looked over as Cosmo stood up beside her, "Cos? What's up?"

But then he was running, leaving Penny scrambling, "Cosmo, come on!" she groaned as she hurried after him, her little dragon flying to catch up to Cosmo, who was on a mission. He came running up to what Penny perceived to be a man on a bench, coming up to Julian and nosing up under his hands, whining excitedly, his tail wagging hard as he realized his snout had been right about whose scent he'd picked up. Aurelian fluttered onto the bench next to Julian, tilting its head curiously.

Penny panted as she caught up, "Cosmo, for an old man you-" she stopped midstep as she realized just who Cosmo had caught wind of, "Oh," was all she managed. Well, now this was weird. She didn't really know how to act and she wrung her hands, a nervous tell, "Uh... wasn't sure... if you were here, I didn't see you.....earlier," she managed, looking off to the side, not sure if he was even aware of her having been there still. She technically should have left campus some time ago, after all...

She'd never admit it, but she had kind of hoped he would come, not that she would have known what to do about it then either. Had he been avoiding her? She supposed she would have avoided him all the same if it wasn't for Cosmo. Her heart was racing. She'd been the one to stop contact. She'd been the one to stop responding, but she couldn't. She hadn't been ready to face a part of her life that was one of such pain. And she hadn't had a chance to separate from her mother and her mother's way of thinking. She never realized until she'd been away from everyone for a while just how bitter her mother was.

But how did one come back from no contact? She looked down at her hands, figuring she ought to apologize, but the words were stuck in her throat. There were a lot of conflicting emotions trying to fight for dominance all at once, and she bit her lip as they started to be a bit much, "S-" she cleared her throat when her voice cracked a bit, "Sorry, um, I..." she grit her teeth a bit, "I didn't.... exactly prepare for this," she sniffed.

[Julian Rossi]

Julian sat hunched on the bench, elbows braced against his knees, his face still buried in his hands. He had only meant to take a moment—just long enough to pull himself together before company inevitably arrived. It had become a habit by now; stealing these brief moments of solitude to smooth over the cracks, to push everything back into place before anyone noticed. But this time, no matter how hard he tried, it wasn’t working.

Julian was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear the soft patter of paws approaching. When he felt the press of a nose nudging gently under his hands, his first thought was that it must be TJ, the librarian’s dog, which meant Tatiana must be close by too. Usually, Julian wouldn't have minded her presence, but given the circumstances, he was hoping to avoid anyone seeing him like this. He quickly straightened up, dragging his hands down his face to wipe away any lingering tears, steeling himself to face her.

But it wasn’t TJ—it was... Cosmo? For a long moment, Julian just stared, his mind struggling to process the sight in front of him. His old dog, the one he hadn’t seen in six years, was right here, nosing up under his hands and whining excitedly and wagging his tail as if no time had passed since their last moment together. Julian let out a shaky breath, a sudden release in his chest, as his fingers sank into the thick fur. “Hey, buddy,” he whispered, his voice cracking. He barely noticed the smile spreading across his face, the first real one he’d managed in days. Then, it hit him. If Cosmo was here...

Julian’s head snapped up before the thought had even finished forming. There she was. Penny was running to catch up, and at first, she didn’t seem to realize it was him—not until she stopped to catch her breath, her gaze finally locking onto his with startled recognition. Julian watched her carefully, noting the way she wrung her hands together, a nervous habit that stirred something deep in his memory; he had seen it countless times before. He studied her face, trying to make sense of the flickering emotions that passed too quickly to read, but the crack in her voice, the uneven breath, and the quiet sniffle told him enough—she was on the verge of tears.

He didn’t know what to make of it, and the last thing he wanted was to misinterpret the moment, to say something wrong and make it worse. So, he stayed frozen, his hands still tangled in Cosmo’s fur, while he wrestled with his thoughts. Finally, Julian cleared his throat, trying to steady himself before speaking. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he said softly. He meant it, but the words felt inadequate. While Penny hadn’t prepared for this moment, Julian had spent years doing so—replaying it in his mind a thousand different ways, imagining all the things he would say. But now, faced with it, it was as if he had never prepared at all. His mind was blank, and all he could do was grasp for words that didn’t seem to exist.

When she mentioned not seeing him earlier, Julian hesitated, suddenly unsure if keeping his distance had been the right choice. Had she taken his absence as a sign that he didn’t want to see her at all? And the way she was apologizing—like she was the one intruding on him—only made the moment feel even more uncertain. He struggled to find the right words. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he finally said. “So, I stayed in my office. I thought... you’d know where to find me if you wanted to.”

His hands remained buried in Cosmo’s fur, grounding him in the familiar warmth of his old dog. “I can leave, if you’d prefer,” Julian added quickly, glancing at her uncertainly. “But you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. There are plenty of spare rooms.”

[Penny Simpson]

"No!" she said almost too quickly, a little too loud, her head snapping up when he said he could leave, and she put her hand to her mouth, realizing how loud she was, then said it again softer, "No... please.... I just... I don't know what to say... I thought I did, I thought I had sorted it all out, but... being back here..." she made a sort of helpless gesture, looking down at her hands as she clasped them together in front of her, "I guess I wasn't as sorted as I thought," she gave a little bitter laugh.

Aurealian, sensing the uneasy air, jumped up onto Julian's shoulder then flew over to land on Penny's winding around her neck like a cat and nuzzling her. She reached up, stroking him lightly, "Ultimately though... I... I wanted to... fix it... fix this," she motioned between them, "If... that's still on the table, I know I'm the one who closed that door... th-though I'll have to arrange some things back home... if I stay too long. Big dragons get cranky."

Cosmo gave a little whine, wiggling himself further into Julian's arms, wanting to be closer and knowing the contact was helping him somehow.

[Julian Rossi]

Julian sat there, stunned, unable to fully process what he was hearing: Penny wanted to fix things. He had hoped for this, of course, but with each unanswered letter over the years, that hope had slowly faded, replaced by the quiet resignation that it would never become a reality. Now, relief surged through him, but it tangled quickly with guilt as he watched her distress; her hands clasped tightly, her voice quivering, and her gestures helpless. Penny was taking the blame for their estrangement, but as far as Julian was concerned, it had been entirely his fault.

Before Julian could find the words to express himself, a sudden shift caught his attention. Aurealian had taken flight, his small wings beating against the air before landing lightly on Julian’s shoulder. His first instinct was to tense, but he fought the reflex, willing himself to stay still despite the flicker of unease. He had never been entirely comfortable with magical creatures, especially those as unpredictable and potentially dangerous as a dragon.

Just as quickly, Aurealian leapt from him and darted toward Penny. The dragon curled around her neck, and Julian watched as she stroked the creature without hesitation, her touch calm and steady, as if it were second nature. The tension in his body began to dissipate, knowing she had everything under control. If anyone could handle an unpredictable dragon, it was Penny—and he trusted her completely. A quiet sense of pride warmed him; she had a natural affinity with creatures, a connection he could never quite grasp.

At the same time, Cosmo, ever attuned to his emotions, gave a soft whine and wiggled closer, pressing his warm body against Julian’s side. Without hesitation, Julian pulled the dog into his arms. “It seems like everyone is trying to help,” he murmured, his gaze shifting between the two creatures. He held Cosmo close, letting the comforting warmth of the dog sink in, his fingers gently stroking the dog's fur as he took in everything that had happened.

Julian knew it was time to say something meaningful. Clearing his throat, he reached into his breast pocket for a handkerchief, unfolding it slowly, almost mechanically, as his mind searched for the right words. He removed his glasses and wiped them, his movements deliberate, the lenses still clouded from earlier tears. If they were finally going to have this conversation, Julian wanted to be able to see her clearly. Julian slid his glasses back on and met her gaze, his expression serious, but with a softness in his eyes. “Penny, I… I have so much to say to you. But I need you to understand this: I was the one who closed the door. And nothing would make me happier than to have it opened again.”