#Jayce’s bike | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madebycloud · 2 months ago

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Drowning in Blue

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬⠀𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you are the chosen one—cursed by a prophecy that will decide the fate of the wizarding world, but the waters of your life have turned to poison, pulling you into a fate worse than death. (Harry Potter AU) requested by anon words: 12.7k warnings/themes: FUCK j.k. rowling, fluff, friends to ??? to ???, hogwarts, slow burn af, soulmates, ravenclaw!jinx, gryffindor!reader, sleep paralysis notes: this is an au of jinx x reader based off the harry potter franchise (but if you haven’t watched/read it don’t worry you’ll be able to read the story just fine!) i do not promote jkr and her transphobia, i wrote this for fun — ✩ part 1.1, part 1.2, part 1.3, part 2.1, part 2.???

“[YEAR 1] The Girl Who Lived”

“Ah, Professor LeBlanc,” Vander greets, eyeing the tabby cat and flashing a smile. The tabby cat then transforms into the pale woman he knows as Professor LeBlanc, with shoulder-length hair and wearing a cloak colored dark green and adorned with red detailing and golden accents.

“How did you know it was me?” Professor LeBlanc asks, walking beside Vander in the quiet neighborhood.

“Let's just say I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly,” Vander answers, readjusting his cloak.

“You'd be stiff too if you sat on a brick wall for that long,” LeBlanc retorts. “Are the whispers on the wind accurate, Vander?”

“Unfortunately… yes,” Vander confirms, glancing sidelong at the pale professor.

“And the girl?”

“Professor Talis is bringing her.”

“Do you believe it's wise to place such trust in Professor Talis?”

“Professor Talis is one of the most responsible professors I've had the pleasure of working with,” Vander replies, defending the younger professor against the questioning.

The two professors come to a stop in front of a mansion.

Suddenly, a loud motor sound pierced the night, causing both professors to look up at the sky.

The bike lands with a screech on the cobblestone street, and a man with short, dark brown hair swings himself off the bike. He lifts his goggles off his eyes, revealing his face, and walks up to LeBlanc and Vander.

“Professor Vander, Professor LeBlanc,” he greets, nodding to the two professors.

“Professor Talis,” Vander greets in return, returning the nod. There is a brief moment of silence before the headmaster asks, “Where is the girl?”

Jayce hums, walking over as she holds the baby wrapped in a bundle over to Vander.

“Little lady fell asleep just as we were flying over Bristol. Heh. Try not to wake her.” He gently places the bundled-up child into Vander's waiting arms. “There you go,” he murmurs, watching as the larger professor adjusts his grip on the baby.

Vander looks down at the sleeping baby in his arms, admiring her face with her eyelashes fluttering with each breath.

“Vander, do you really think it's safe, leaving her with the Kirammans?” LeBlanc asks, eyeing the girl.

Vander nods his head. “The girl will assuredly find safety within their care.” He hesitates, his voice quieting. “Besides, we have no other options. The Kirammans are the only family she has…”

LeBlanc sighs silently and nods once. “I suppose you are right.” The cat animagus professor turns to look at professor Talis. “Was the trip… difficult?”

Jayce runs a hand through his hair, attempting to straighten it out. “Uh, I wouldn't say so,” he answers, avoiding eye contact.

LeBlanc hums noncommittally. “You have a bit of motor grease on your cheek.”

Jayce reaches up and touches his cheek, feeling the grease smeared across it. “Oh, yeah, I must have gotten that while working on my bike before I left.”

LeBlanc shakes her head silently, turning her attention to the sleeping baby in Vander's arms. She eyes the scar on her forehead. “Is that where-?”

“Yes,” Vander replies with a solemn nod, his gaze following hers to the scar. “It will stay with her forever.”

“Couldn't you do anything about it, Vander?”

Vander contemplates the words. “I could have,” he says slowly, “but it is unwise to meddle with the past.” He adjusts his grip on the child as she begins to squirm.

The three professors approach the large door of the Kiramman estate. Vander carefully lays the baby down on the doormat, and LeBlanc pulls out a letter and places it on top of the baby's blanket-swaddled form.

“I wish her well,” LeBlanc says, looking down at the baby.

“Good luck, little one,” Vander murmurs, crouching and gently stroking the baby's cheek with a large finger.

—

“My letter finally arrived!” you exclaim, running down the stairs towards your cousin who's sitting at the table eating breakfast.

Caitlyn's eyes go wide as they land on the envelope in your hand. “Really?!” she asks excitedly.

You hold up the thick envelope to her view, still panting as you try to catch your breath. “I wonder what house I'm going to be put in,” you say to yourself, finger tracing over the red wax.

“Probably Ravenclaw,” she replies, going back to eating her scrambled eggs, “That's the house our family is usually sorted to.”

You purse your lips in thought. “Maybe, but then again, maybe not.” You turn your attention to the letter, reading it aloud.

Dear Student,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Emillia LeBlanc

The Deputy Headmistress

“Looks about right,” your cousin says, sipping her tea. “That's the same letter I got when I was your age.” She smiles at you fondly.

You carefully place the letter down, sitting down in the chair next to her. “Are you going to help me with shopping for school stuff?”

Caitlyn nods. “Of course, silly. What's family for?”

Your heart swells with love for your cousin. You've known your cousin your entire life, and she's acted like a big sister to you. “Thanks, Cait.”

—

It's a bright and sunny day in London, but you feel just a bit chilly. Maybe it's just nerves...

You and Caitlyn walk down the streets, your letter still clutched in your hand, rereading it a hundredth time since its arrival.

“All students must be equipped with one standard size 2 pewter cauldron and may bring, if they desire, either an owl, a cat, or a toad.” You turn to your cousin. “Could we find all this in London?”

“Most likely.” Caitlyn says. “We'll just have to find the right stores. Don't worry, I know all the best ones.”

The two of you stop, and you stare up at the sign above the old, worn-down pub.

“Leaky Couldron?” you say, wrinkling your nose. “Doesn't look like the... friendliest place to be.”

Caitlyn gives you the side-eye. “Looks can be deceiving,” she murmurs but doesn't elaborate.

You follow her as she walks into the dingy pub, glancing back behind you.

Inside is dim and smells of ale and sweat. You're pretty sure you spied a rat disappearing behind a crate of butterbeer. You can spot a handful of people sitting at tables, drinking in the early morning hours.

“Ah, miss prefect,” a gravelly voice calls out.

You glance over to the source of the voice, a man who looks older than dust, his face covered in scars. He walks towards you, limping as he goes.

Caitlyn gives a polite nod in recognition. “Professor Singed.”

He glances in your direction, studying you curiously before a crooked smile spreads across his face. “Who's this young lady with you?”

Caitlyn puts a hand on your shoulder. “This-” she motions to you, “-is my cousin. She just received her letter, and we're here to get supplies.”

“Your cousin, you mean... the girl who lived...?” the man croaks out.

You look to Caitlyn for reassurance, and you frown when you spot the uncomfortable look she has.

The girl who lived.

“Yes,” she replies curtly. “She's my cousin.” Caitlyn's grip tightens on your shoulder.

Singed smiles, the scars on his face pulling in odd directions. “Lucky girl.”

You don't feel very lucky.

You catch the nod towards you as he straightens himself. “I'll be off now,” he rasps, shifting his gaze back to your cousin. “Have a lovely day, Miss Kiramman.” He turns and walks towards the door, disappearing.

Your cousin's hand relaxes, and she sighs. “Let's just go. We've got a lot of shopping to do.” Caitlyn nods towards the wall before walking towards it, you following close behind. “Professor Singed is my potions teacher.”

That professor was off... but what did he mean by the girl who lived?

“He looked old,” you say with a huff. And kind of ugly too, you leave out.

Caitlyn doesn't look back at you. “Don't mind him, Singed has always been... odd,” she says in the tone when someone is hiding something. “Let's just get your supplies, okay?”

You stop as the two of you stand in front of a concealed archway, built from bricks that look to be held together with nothing but luck and prayers. Caitlyn pulls out her wand, flicking it towards the wall.

The bricks shift and become transparent, and you're now able to see the street on the other side. The street stretches out, lined by shops and filled with people. People that are wearing capes and cloaks, carrying cats and toads and owls...

Wizards and Witches. They're everywhere.

“Woah… How'd you do that?”

Caitlyn puts her wand back into her pocket. “Simple magic,” she says before stepping through as you follow behind.

The shops are no ordinary shops that you'd find in ordinary towns. They sell potion ingredients, a broom store, a shop selling owls.

There's a group of people walking past you, all dressed in black robes, and your eyes catch sight of a girl who has chin-length blue hair walking backwards as she enthusiastically talks to a pink-haired girl.

Caitlyn glances down at you. “Don't stare,” she whispers, and you turn your head and act like you weren't just ogling the strange people walking past you.

You both stop at the tall, white building. There are words carved into the stone over the door: Gringotts Bank.

“First things first,” she starts, pointing towards the bank. “You need to get your money.”

“...my money?”

“Oh-” she remembers something, her eyes going wide as your words remind her. “I forgot to tell you. Once you get inside, a professor is going to help you. Professor Jayce Talis.”

You look at your cousin, then the large bank.

Caitlyn pats your shoulder. “You'll be fine. I have some things to do while you're in there.”

“...okay,” you breathe out. “Okay.”

You walk towards the tall double doors of the bank. Caitlyn helps you push the door open, and you step inside.

The inside of the Gringotts Bank is...

It looks like a palace that a king would live in rather than a bank.

There's a giant crystal chandelier that hangs from the ceiling, and fold covered pillars hold the bank up.

There are at least thirty goblins sitting at desks on both sides of you, counting coins and going over paperwork. One or two look up at you, their faces disinterested as they go back to their work.

You look around, trying to figure out what to do next. Then you hear a deep, kind voice.

“Ah, so it is you.”

You spin around quickly, eyes catching on the tall man who's standing there. He has no wrinkles, no blemishes on his face. Kind eyes and a warm honey-brown color look down at you.

“I am Professor Jayce Talis. You must be Caitlyn's cousin,” he says, walking over and crouching down. He offers his hand to you. You take his hand, and he smiles.

“You look just like-” he pauses in the middle of his words, then quickly composes himself when he realizes he said it aloud. He stands up and quickly steers the conversation in a different direction.

“Well, let's get you sorted out, shall we?” He gestures to a goblin sitting at a desk.

Jayce takes you over to a counter at the end, and a goblin turns to look at the two of you. The goblin has sharp, pointed teeth and a hook nose, and his dark eyes look up at Jayce with annoyance.

“Professor Talis,” the goblin greets, his voice dry and scratchy.

Jayce chuckles, leaning on the counter. “Still counting coins, I see?”

The goblin sneers and grumbles at Jayce. “Always.” Then he looks at you. “Who's this then?”

Professor Talis places a hand on your back and pushes you forward a bit. “This is Cassandra Kiramman's niece.”

“Niece…” he repeats, looking you up and down. He turns to look behind him, scanning several scrolls placed on a counter behind him. “...name?”

Jayce answers the goblin with your name. “Just here to collect her galleons,” he adds.

“Does the kid have her key, professor?” the goblin asks.

“Oh!” Professor Talis rummages through his pockets, searching for something. “Where is it... ah!” he pulls out a gold key. “Here it is.” He hands the key to the goblin but then seems to remember something. His hand reaches in his pocket again and pulls out a letter. “Professor Vander gave me this,” he says, presenting the letter to the goblin.

The goblin takes the key and the letter from Professor Talis' hands, then looks at the golden key. He looks over the letter, skimming it over with his sharp eyes. “Hmm…”

Jayce smiles at the goblin. “Is that a I need to see her vault hmm, or a we need to sort something out hmm?”

The goblin just looks at Jayce and narrows his eyes, turning around to his stack of scrolls again.

“I'm guessing that means vaults,” Professor Talis whispers to you.

—

You, Professor Talis, and a goblin named Griphook are riding in a mine cart down a deep and dark tunnel.

Finally, the cart stops abruptly, causing you to lurch forward, then Griphook jumps out. “Vault 687,” he grunts, holding out his hand expectantly.

Professor Talis wastes no time in handing over a shiny, golden lamp.

You and Professor Talis follow behind Griphook in the dark, the small lamp the only thing lighting your way forward.

You can hear the steady drip of water and rats scurrying around in the shadows.

Griphook stretches out his hand. “Key, professor?”

Jayce quickly places the key in the goblin's hand, giving it a quick twist. With a loud click, the vault door swings open, revealing piles of gold inside.

You blink a few times, staring at the piles of galleons in your vault… how much is all this?

Professor Talis chuckles behind you and places one hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Never thought your parents would leave you with nothing, did you?”

—

Griphook calls out, “Vault 713!”

You turn to Professor Talis and ask, “What's in there, professor?”

Jayce pats your head. “Can't tell you that, kid. Some very secret Hogwarts business.”

Secret.

You sigh, the mystery of vault 713 intriguing you.

Griphook tells you both to step back, and you obey, watching as the goblin slides a single long finger down the silver door, causing it to melt away.

You and Professor Talis step into the vault, the small space feeling cool and dark. In the center of the vault sits a small, white, stone-looking package. Jayce picks it up, holding it carefully. He then turns to you.

“Listen, kid,” he starts, “you can't tell anyone about this, okay?”

You nod, not sure what's in the little stone package, but you're curious.

Professor Talis smiles. He pockets the package and pats your head again. “Good, I knew I could count on you.”

—

“Books, parchment, quills, ink, cauldron... and uh…” You walk down the alley as you recite your list.

Caitlyn nods, looking over the list and checking the items off one by one.

The professor follows behind you two, explaining to Caitlyn that he needs to go with you since you, as a minor, require a guardian.

“...and a wand,” you continue, turning to Professor Talis. “I need a wand.”

“Of course.” Caitlyn glances over the shops that line the alley and points to a smaller looking store. “That store. Ollivanders.”

Jayce hums. “I think we'll stop by Ollivander's before heading to Madam Malkin. You'll get your wand first, then we'll continue down the list.”

The three of you continue walking until you come to a small shop that is much less crowded than the ones you have passed.

“Why don't you run along there and wait?” The professor begins, “Cait and I just have one more thing to do. It won't be long.” He pats your shoulder as he ushers your cousin away, leaving you to approach the small, crooked shop.

You hear him murmur something, but you're too far away to catch anything. You raise your eyes to the sign above the door. Ollivanders Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.

Seems harmless enough.

You step into the dark store and look around, a fine layer of dust settling on everything, including the boxes stacked on the creaky floorboards.

“Hello?”

There's no one in the shop, only the silence and dust. Is anyone even here?

You walk towards the counter, reaching out and gently rapping your knuckles against the wood. “Hello?”

The silence is shattered by the old man, who you think is Ollivander, stepping out from the back of the store, drying his wrinkled hands on a cloth.

“Ah,” the old man says as he approaches you, his pale, silvery eyes staring at you. “I was expecting you.”

You watch silently as the old man hums to himself, his fingers trace over the boxes, searching for something.

He then pulls a box from the shelf. “It seems like only yesterday when your parents were in here getting their first wands, and now look at you.” He lifts the lid and draws a long, slender stick out of the box.

“13 inches, swishy, cherry with a horned serpent horn core.” Ollivander holds the wand out for you to take. “Give it a try.”

You wave the wand, but nothing happens. You swing it around in a small circle, but... still nothing. You move the wand as if you were drawing something across the-

CRACK!

Blue sparks fly out of the tip of the wand. You duck, bringing the wand close to your chest. You look up at the old man, and he smiles.

“Not quite.” The old man reaches out and gently takes the wand from you, turning back to the shelf.

He picks up a different box. “Eleven inches, walnut, swishy, unicorn tail hair core.” Ollivander hands you the new wand.

You take it and hold it in your hands, looking at the smooth shaft and carefully crafted hilt. You glance up at the old man, who nods.

You swing the wand around the same as the other one, nothing happens until-

CRACK!

A vase sitting on the shelf across from you suddenly explodes, sending glass shards everywhere.

You look back at the old man. He smiles once again. “Don't worry. We'll find the right one eventually. It's just a matter of time and patience.”

You hand the old man the wand, and he sets it aside.

The old man hums to himself as he takes another box off the shelf. He opens it up but stops, eyeing the wand. “Mmm,” he muses, shaking his head. “No, I don't think that's the one.”

He sets the box down and turns to look at you, an idea brewing in his head. “I wonder…” he murmurs as he rummages through the box. He withdraws a slender wand and hands it to you. “Try it.”

The second your fingers wrap around the handle, you hear the wand hum inside your skull. You flex your fingers, testing how it feels… perfect.

The shop feels louder, sounds and smells coming at you like you've never experienced before.

Your eyes dart around the room before landing on the old man, who scratches his head as he examines the wand in your hand. “Curious indeed,” he mumbles, “very curious.”

You raise an eyebrow at the old man's response, hoping he'd say something. You clear your throat, but Ollivander doesn't even look up, his eyes still fixed on the wand.

“I remember every wand I've ever sold,” he starts, eyeing your new wand. “Just so happens that this wand's phoenix made another feather, just one other to it.” His eyes lock on the scar on your forehead. “Funny thing, that the brother wand to that one-” he motions to your wand “-is the very one that gave you that mark on your head.” He points a bony finger at your forehead.

Your scar tingles and you reach a hand up to touch it. You’ve never been too fond of the scar, especially since it makes you... different.

Brother wand.

Sounds weird, honestly. Like it's some sort of… prophecy.

You drop your hand from your scar, looking back at the old man. “And who owned that wand?” you question, your fingers tracing the shaft of the wand.

“It belonged to the greatest wizard who ever lived. Before his fall from grace,” he explains, narrowing his eyes at you. “And the phoenix did only ever give one other feather.” The old man taps his chin, his mouth twisting in thought. “It's curious how such an instrument of destruction ended up in your hand, isn't it?”

You look down at the wand again, unsure of what to do. “It's just a wand, though, right?” you say with a frown before looking back to the old man. “It's not like it's evil or anything.”

The old man seems intrigued, a smile growing on his face. “No dear, wands don't hold any form of power of their own. Their power comes from the one who wields it.”

He steps forward, bending down so he's eye level with you. “It's the wizard or witch who decides what their wands do, and if wands are capable of great wrong… they are also capable of great right.”

“Just remember this,” he adds before standing up, “The wand chooses the wizard.” He then turns and begins tidying up the shelves, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You turn over the wand in your hand, examining every detail. Something tells you this is... important, it's important somehow.

Then, you hear a knock at the window. Turning around, you see your cousin outside the shop, waving through the glass. Professor Talis stands beside her, holding a cat in his arms. You walk over and open the door.

“Well?” Jayce asks, looking over your shoulder at the wandmaker. “Did our little newcomer find a match?”

You nod, holding the wand in the air. “Yeah,” you reply, turning to Professor Talis. “Found one on like, the third try. It kinda hums.”

He chuckles. “That's a good thing, means it's a good match.”

—

The very one that gave you that mark on your head.

That's what the old man said.

Brother wand.

It's weird to describe a wand as a brother. A little creepy too.

Does that mean it's connected to you in some way?

You hear Professor Talis' voice and snap out of your thoughts. “Huh?” You blink a few times, looking up from your own bowl of soup. You've barely touched yours.

“You're being awfully quiet,” he prods. “Something on your mind?” he asks, looking back and forth between you and Caitlyn.

You reach a tentative hand up to touch the scar on your forehead, your fingers tracing over the jagged edges. “He…” you pause, looking up at your cousin, “...he killed my parents, didn't he?”

Caitlyn pauses mid-bite.

Professor Talis stops eating, his eyes slowly moving to you.

You think you've hit a sensitive spot, and the room feels strangely still.

Jayce shoots a cautionary look at your cousin, then looks down at his unfinished soup. “...yes,” he responds finally, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “Your parents… they died at his hands.”

Caitlyn takes a pause from her bread to steal another glance at you, her face twisted with obvious guilt. You don't really know why she feels guilty, but it's pretty apparent.

You lower your hand slowly from your forehead. “Why though?” you ask no one in particular. “Why did he do it? What did they do?”

Professor Talis takes a deep breath, collecting himself for a moment.

“First-” he starts slowly, being careful about what he's saying. “-you need to understand something. Not all wizards are good. Some of them go bad. A few years ago... there was one wizard who... went as bad as bad can get…”

He trails off, looking at your cousin, but she doesn't pay much attention. His eyes dart over to your own, and he pauses. “And his name was… his name… his…”

“Maybe if you wrote it down?” you suggest.

“No, I can't spell it. His name was…” The professor hesitates, uncomfortable, but he finally musters the courage to finish his sentence. “Swain,” he whispers.

Swain.

You blink a few times, rolling the name over in your head. Where have you heard that name before? your aunt never mentioned anything about this ‘Swain’ in your childhood.

“Swain?” you repeat.

Jayce flinches at your words, holding a finger to his lips. “Shhh,” he hushes as he scans the Leaky Cauldron, watching the shadows carefully. He's checking to see if anyone is listening in. Once he's satisfied, he leans back into his chair, taking a long glance around the area.

Professor Talis stirs his soup around with his spoon, staring down into his bowl. “Back then... they were hard times,” he mutters. “Bad times.” After a long pause, he lets the spoon plop back into his soup.

“Some wizards fell to the wrong path,” he continues on, “He gathered some followers. Brought them to the dark side.”

“Your parents... tried to stop him,” his eyes meet yours. “But none of them survived once he set his mind to killing them.”

Professor Talis goes silent for a moment, staring down at his soup again. The spoon swirls around in the soup, circling in a whirlpool of broth and vegetables.

“No one lived,” he whispers, looking up at you. “Except…” Professor Talis pauses before sighing deeply. “Except you.”

You take a long draw of air. “...me?”

Caitlyn nods, finally finding her words. “That scar on your forehead…” her fingers flutter to her own forehead, tracing a line on her own skin, as if tracing the path of your scar. “It's not just any old cut. It's the mark left behind by a dark curse. A curse that only the most evil wizards use.”

“But... what happened to Swa-... to You-Know-Who?”

Caitlyn looks at the professor, who stirs his soup contemplatively, then looks back at you. “Well, some say he died.”

“Codswallop in my opinion,” Professor Talis cuts in. “Nope, I'm not one to bet against that snake. He's out there, and while he's tired now, I don't think that'll stop him for long.” He puts the spoon down and gives you a warm smile, although one tired from stress and worries. “But one thing's for damned sure…”

“...something about that night stumped him,” The professor murmurs. “That's why everybody knows your name. That's why your name rings across the land.” He lifts his spoon, pointing it at you. “You're the girl who lived.”

—

A month later…

“You... expect me to just run through the wall and I'll be in the Hogwarts Express?”

You stare at the wall between platforms 9 and 10, wondering if you've finally lost your marbles.

“Yep! That's how we do it here,” Caitlyn says as she leans against the stone wall with a laugh. “You just run, and you'll smash right into the platform.”

You look at her doubtfully.

She reaches over and pats your back, encouraging you to continue. “Go ahead and run at the wall. It's okay. You won't get hurt.”

You take a step back, looking at the solid wall. It's just a normal wall. Not only that, it's stone.

There is no way that running into a solid piece of brick will result in anything but you getting seriously hurt and winding up in an infirmary bed, surely.

You look at your cousin, who only nods in affirmation and motions for you to continue.

You hesitate, taking another glance at the wall. Then, with a deep breath, you decide to be bold. Boldly stupid, that is. You let out a grunt of determination before taking off at the wall.

You shut your eyes, bracing for the impact, and- and…

Something is odd. Or rather, nothing is there. You expected to slam right into the hard wall, but now you're...

You peek one eye open, then open your other.

You're standing in... a train station. But not any train station, it's a strangely vibrant platform filled with people walking around and talking with each other.

To your right, a large train sits, a train that looks rather regal. You have to crane your neck to look at its height, and then you have to crane your neck again to see the top of the smokestack, which is spewing out clouds of smoke.

Then the train whistles sharply. The sound is loud enough to ring in your ears and echoes throughout the station, causing everyone—you included—to flinch slightly in surprise.

People rush past you, boarding the train, disappearing into the various open doors.

Caitlyn's voice appears behind you. “You alright?”

“Yeah…” you reply, looking at your cousin.

She pats your shoulder. “Let's get on the train, then.”

It takes you and Cailtyn several minutes to get aboard the train, with how packed it is, and the two of you manage to find an unoccupied compartment.

You both sit down and take a deep breath as you catch your breath from running.

“You can put your stuff here,” she instructs, pointing to a few empty spots overhead. “There's plenty of space. It's probably better to put your stuff up there instead of keeping it down here where it can roll around. Wouldn't want to get squashed, would you?”

You do as Caitlyn says, shoving your trunk and other supplies into the overhead storage.

“There you go,” she says, looking around the compartment, “I'll be back. I've got something to take care of, you know, prefect business.” Caitlyn pats your shoulder. “I won't be long. Try not to do anything stupid.”

“I'll... try,” you say, watching her disappear out of the compartment door.

You sit down. Now that your cousin isn't here...

You're left all alone, and you shift in your seat. At first, you're just sitting there, admiring the interior of the train.

Then, the train starts to move.

You hear the whistle shriek again, the brakes shift, and suddenly the train lurches forward. Slowly, the train begins to speed up.

The train passes through the countryside, past rolling hills and dense forests.

It's peaceful you could almost fall asleep here... until-

“HI!”

“AH!-” you exclaim, before your brain catches up to your instincts.

You spin around to face the open compartment door and see a girl, probably the same age as you, with chin-length blue hair.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, not looking apologetic in fact, smiling slightly. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

The girl steps into the compartment, awkwardly shuffles into it, and plops herself on the seat opposite you.

You observe the stranger.

She's got blue hair. She's lean and pretty pale. She's also short, but it's hard to tell how short exactly while she's sitting down. She's shifting in her seat as well, not sitting still.

“I'm Powder... firstie, and you are...?”

You're still recovering from the startle but manage to get your brain working, though you still have no idea who this stranger is. Still, you reply with your name.

She repeats your name and looks like she's mulling it over in her mind. Then she snaps her fingers, as if she'd just remembered something. “So it's true! I mean, do you really have the... the...?” she trails off, gesturing at your forehead.

...that was definitely a weird question to ask someone you just met, and the suddenness of it leaves you dumbfounded.

She doesn't seem to notice the odd question, or if she does, she doesn't seem to mind.

You're not sure why the girl needs to know.

She drums her fingers on her knees while staring at you, as if your silence gave her carte blanche to ask nosy questions.

You purse your lips together, and she suddenly realizes you're not going to reply. Her fingers stop drumming, and she slumps back in her seat.

She's impatient.

Powder folds her arms across her chest and gives you an annoyed look, like she's expecting an answer.

You stare back at her, not sure what to say.

The silence is broken when your stomach suddenly gives a loud grumble.

Powder raises an eyebrow. “Hungry?”

Just then, a welcome rescue from your grumbling stomach arrives in the form of a woman pushing a trolley filled with sweets. She then peeks her head into the compartment. “Care for anything off the trolley, dears?”

Powder suddenly stands up from her seat. “Ooh! I'll take this, and this, and this, and a few of those- ooh, and a box of those-” she rattles off a whole list of things, pointing to every item on the trolley. “Is it all FREE?!”

The trolley lady laughs as Powder rattles off her list. She looks amused at Powder's excitement, though she gives you a brief look of concern. “Of course not. It all costs money.”

Powder's face immediately drops, and her eyes land on her pockets. She fishes out a few coins and holds them up eagerly. “I've got enough for a few.”

The trolley lady gives the coins a quick glance. Her face immediately darkens as she sees the pitiful amount of money Powder is holding.

“A few?” she repeats. “Honey, that's not enough for even one of those...” The woman turns her attention to you. “What about you, dear?”

You rummage through your pocket as the trolley lady looks on. You take out all the coins you took from the bank earlier and give them to the trolley lady. “We'll take the lot.”

—

“Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans?”

It looks like it's going to taste like sweets—not any kind of sweets, every kind of sweets.

Powder looks away from the sweets on her lap and eyes the box of jellybeans in your hands. “They mean every flavor. You get chocolate and peppermint, and I think I've heard of one that's supposed to taste like liver or something,” Powder says. “Be careful with those! my brother once said he got a bogey-flavored one.”

Gross.

But at the same time, the whole every flavor bit intrigues you.

You've never had sweets that tasted like anything but sweets so you have no idea what it would taste like.

You open the box and pluck one, popping it into your mouth.

You expect something sweet and fruity, but the taste of the jellybean is far from sweet.

No, you get smacked with the taste of-

...old, worn sock that's been left out for a week in the summer.

You gag and spit out the jellybean. “Yuck!” The taste doesn't go away, and you stick your tongue out, trying to get rid of it.

Powder laughs. “I told you to be careful!”

“You said they had chocolate and peppermint!”

“Yeah, and liver, and bogey,” Powder retorts.

“Alright, alright. I get it. You warned me.” You sigh and push the box of jellybeans away. “Never again.”

“Don't worry, I've got something better.” She pulls out a box of chocolate frogs from the pile of sweets on the seat. She hands one to you. “Here. These are much better.”

You unwrap the chocolate frog, revealing the actual chocolate underneath.

It looks like a normal chocolate frog, save for the fact that it appears to be moving. You give it a poke with your index finger, and the chocolate frog lets out a loud ribbit.

You try to keep a straight face. “Is that... normal?” you ask, looking back at Powder.

“Yeah, it is. Don't worry, they're pretty common. Besides, they taste great.”

You look down at your chocolate frog. It lets out another loud ribbit. Before you can take a bite, the frog leaps out of your hand and leaps onto the windowsill.

“What-”

“Don't worry,” she reassures. “They do that-” Powder is cut off as your chocolate frog leaps away from the window.

You and Powder both look out the window of the train, trying to find the escaped chocolate frog. It's nowhere in sight, probably hopped away as soon as it found freedom.

“Don't worry, they're supposed to do that. It's kind of a gimmick. I've lost like, three of them already.”

“Supposed to? are they going to come back?” you ask, and Powder snorts in response.

“Yeah, like that's going to happen. They probably went off to breed.”

You give her a flat look that says, ‘are you serious?’ and Powder bursts out laughing.

“I'm just kidding, they don't breed. I don't think they can.”

You roll your eyes, but she keeps going.

“It's actually kind of a tradition to save their cards as a collection. You get a card with every chocolate frog.” She points to the now-empty wrapper. “I've got a whole bunch of them already.”

“You collect the cards?”

She nods, a proud look taking over her face. “Yep. It's a hobby of mine.”

You look at the empty wrapper and flip it over in your hands, finding an image on the back. “Heimerdinger?”

It's an image of a small, yordle-like creature that looks like a gnome.

Powder makes an exaggerated gesture with her hand. “Professor Heimerdinger is like, a legend. Everyone knows about Professor Heim, but I've got about six cards of him. It's pretty neat to have a whole bunch of them.”

You start to read aloud the description. “He is best known for his groundbreaking research in the field of science and his numerous inventions and discoveries, which have helped advance the magical community. Approximately three hundred years old. Professor Heimerdinger enjoys-” you look up from the card, “-three hundred years old?”

“Yep,” Powder agrees. “Most yordles are that old.” She pauses. “Actually, I think all yordles are that old. I saw it in one of my history books.”

If he's really that old... he's probably seen through a lot of history, and you can't even imagine what he's been through.

You stare at the card again. There's empty space where the image of Heimerdinger used to be. “What? It's gone. It was just here.”

That's a little weird... you turn the card over in your hand, wondering if you just imagined that there was a yordle on the back of that wrapper.

“Hm? Oh, that's normal.”

“Normal?”

Powder nods, unperturbed. “The picture never stays there for too long. It just pops up and disappears again, see?” she points at the card.

You watch as the image reappears on the back of the card, then vanishes again, then reappears, then vanishes.

“See? Totally normal,” Powder assures you. “They're called moving images. It's like a video, but it's a pic-”

“Pow!”

You turn at the sudden noise. There, standing in the doorway, is a boy in a yellow sweater with a badger on it.

“Been looking for you!”

Powder groans, recognizing the boy immediately. “Ekko,” she mutters, “why are you here?”

Ekko ignores this question and turns to you, eyeing you up and down. “Wait, wait, wait... are you the girl who lived?!”

“Is everyone going to start calling me that?” you complain, as Powder sighs next to you.

Ekko grins, sitting himself across from you. “You're kinda famous, you know that, right?” he smirks, propping his feet up on the seat next to him.

Powder smacks his feet off, annoyed. “Don't kick the seats.”

Ekko shrugs, unfazed by her irritation. “Just sayin'. I mean, you're the girl who survived the killing curse.”

You shift in your seat, uncomfortable. It's not like you asked to be famous for surviving something traumatic.

You look out the window at the hills and small villages and towns you pass by. “Yeah, I know,” you mutter, but Ekko either doesn't notice or doesn't care about your annoyance.

“What's it like?”

“What's what like?”

“Being the one who lived. The legend who vanquished You-Know-Who. That stuff,” Ekko clarifies.

“I don't remember any of it,” you say truthfully. “So nothing. I just got a scar out of it.”

Ekko looks dissatisfied with your answer. He stands up, stretching his arms. “Anyway, Pow,” he turns to Powder, grinning, “let's go, your sister is looking for you.”

Powder groans, clearly not wanting to leave your side yet. “Does it have to be now?”

Ekko gestures for her to get up. “Yes, now. You know how she can be when she wants something.”

Powder sighs, standing up reluctantly. She shoots you an apologetic look as she follows Ekko out of the compartment. “Sorry 'bout that. See ya around, yeah?”

You nod, watching as Powder leaves the compartment. Ekko looks back at you, eyeing you curiously, before shutting the compartment door. You're left to your thoughts, feeling slightly lonely without Powder there.

It was nice to have some company, even if it was just for a short while.

It's lonely just sitting in here by yourself... you shouldn't complain. You shouldn't be expecting people to talk to you all the time. But sometimes, it's nice to have... someone to spend time with. Or at least, you think it is.

You feel like you know Powder somehow, yet you just met her. You wonder why that is.

You look out the window again, contemplating... your life?

You don't see your face in the reflection. Instead, you see a pale blue-haired girl with pink eyes staring back at you.

Weird. You're getting tired. You yawn, blinking away the blurry vision.

The girl is gone.

...was she there at all?

Your eyelids are heavy. You're tired, but you don't know why. You've gotten plenty of sleep last night...

Yet you find yourself falling into sleep.

—

You wake up, feeling bleary-eyed and tired.

Everything is black.

You try to look around, but there's nothing to look at. You reach out to feel around, but you can't feel anything either.

Then you hear it—quiet sobs. It's very faint, but you can hear them still.

It's strange... the voice is familiar.

You feel like you should... go towards the sound. You can see a figure in front of you, a girl with long blue hair.

The girl's back is turned, facing away from you. She's sitting on the empty plane of black with her legs curled up to her chest, her head buried into her knees.

You don't know who this girl is, but something about her is familiar. You're not sure how you know her, but you know her.

There's a weird feeling in your stomach.

You watch as the girl raises her head from her knees, turning to look at you... except she doesn't have a face.

The girl's nose is gone. Her eyes are gone. Her mouth is gone. It just looks like a blank canvas where her face should be. Except this canvas is covered in... blood?

This can't be real. But if this is a dream, why can you feel your heart thumping in your chest? why is there a sudden sense of worry in your gut?

In the blink of an eye, the figure's hand shoots out—there's a wand clutched in her hand, and the tip of it is now pointed at you.

The wand doesn't look like much to fear; it's slim and delicate, just a simple stick of wood.

No, fear isn't coming from the wand... it's coming from the strange, faceless girl holding it. She points it at you, trembling, a shaky grip, as if she's been weakened.

“I'm sorry.”

You recognize that voice.

The girl takes a deep, shuddering breath, her hand trembling even more. “I'm sorry,” she repeats.

Your brain goes completely still for a few seconds, trying to process what's happening.

Then, your mouth starts moving on its own, and you say a word you've never said before.

“Jinx.”

It's strange, yet familiar, like you're saying this name for the first time but it still feels weirdly normal to say. You don't know why you said it, and you still don't know who this girl is, but you know that's her name.

You just know.

—

“We're almost here.” You wake up at the sound of your cousin's voice, opening your eyes.

The first thing you notice is that you're staring out a window, except it's dark, and you just see your own reflection staring back at you. You don't really pay it any attention, though, because you find yourself distracted by the strange feeling in your forehead.

But before you can linger on the thought, the weird feeling is gone without a trace, erasing it as if it never happened in the first place.

And just like that, your mind is blank. Completely wiped... you can't even remember what you were just thinking about.

“Are you ready?” your cousin continues.

You look away from the window, focusing your bleary vision on your cousin. The candy and chocolate wrappers are littered all over the compartment, and you watch as your cousin picks them up and puts them in a plastic bag.

“You're back,” you mumble, rubbing your eyes as you sit up straight.

Caitlyn nods, placing the plastic bag down next to the compartment's door. “Yeah, the prefect duties got pretty busy.”

“I bet.” You lean back on the soft seat. “What did you have to do anyway?”

“All sorts of things. Helping first years find their way, breaking up arguments. You would not believe how many rules some students are already breaking before we've even arrived at Hogwarts.”

“Mmm sounds handful.” You make space on the seat beside you for her.

“Sorry, I left you all alone in the compartment.” Caitlyn says, sitting down next to you. “You didn't get up to any trouble, did you?”

You rub your forehead, the feeling that you forgot something nagging at you. “I just took a quick nap.”

“That's good.” She nods, crossing her legs. “I was worried you might get bored.”

“Yeah, not much to do, I guess…” You gaze out the window. It's already night, the darkness outside making it hard to see anything but faint flashes of trees. “The journey so far hasn't been too bad.”

Caitlyn hums, also looking out the window.

You look back at her, noticing the worried look on her face. “You okay?”

She hesitates for a few seconds before replying, “Yeah, I'm just thinking about…” she looks at you, “your upcoming year.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I'm your cousin and all,” she starts, choosing her words carefully. “I just worry.”

The sound of the train brakes squealing startles the both of you.

“Are we already there?” You look out the window again.

Caitlyn stands up and opens the compartment door, peering outside momentarily. “Looks like it,” she turns back to you, grinning.

—

“First years! First years over here!”

You step out of the train, taking in a deep breath of the cold night's air, and run your hands down your new robes, trying to get rid of the annoying wrinkles.

You look around the busy Hogsmeade station, searching the sea of robes.

Then, a flash of blue catches your eye, and you notice the same girl from earlier. She's standing with a small group of other first years, exchanging idle chatter and occasional smiles.

The girl sees you, her face brightens into a grin, and she waves. She turns to the other students, says something you can't hear, and then starts walking toward you.

“There you are!” Powder exclaims as she gets close. “I was looking for you.”

“Were you-” you're cut off by the gruff man's voice again.

“All first years gather here.”

You and Powder share a look before walking toward the voice, noticing the man's back was facing you. “Come on,” Powder says, tugging at your sleeve.

You both walk closer until you're standing next to the group of first years. Powder lets go of your sleeve and moves to stand next to another girl.

“Good, good,” the man says, “You're all here. Welcome to Hogwarts.” He looks at the group of first years before nodding. “Follow me please.”

You follow him, trying hard to keep up while also keeping your eyes on your new classmate.

Powder is still glancing over her shoulder at you. When you make eye contact, she grins, waving. You wave back and can hear her giggle.

The man stops in front of a lake, and the first years gather around him. You look out in the distance and notice a large castle on a mountain.

“This is the lake,” the man gruffs.

Everyone looks out at the lake. Some seem impressed, others not so much.

“Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm Udyr, the gamekeeper here. We're gonna be taking a short boat ride to the castle.”

The first years start talking amongst themselves, whispering about the massive castle waiting for them atop a mountain.

Powder is looking out at the lake, a smile on her face. You wonder if she even knows she's smiling.

Udyr clears his throat, signaling the students to quiet down. “Right, now. Form a line and face the lake. No pushing.”

Everyone lines up in a somewhat orderly line. Powder is only a few people down from you, and she keeps stealing glances at the castle.

“Alright! Time to go,” the gamekeeper calls out, waving his arm.

The first years slowly walk down to the edge of the lake, where a bunch of small boats are tied to makeshift wooden docks.

“There are enough boats for everyone,” Udyr informs, “So get into a boat.”

The first years begin to file off into the boats, with you following suit. You find a spot in one and take a seat, the wood creaking beneath you.

Powder ends up in another boat, leaving you in a boat with a boy with golden blond hair and two girls with colorful hair, one with a light green and the other with pink.

You glance over at Powder's boat and see her laughing at the boy over whatever he had said.

The blonde boy gives you a friendly smile and greets you with a handshake. “Hey, I'm Ezreal.”

Ezreal's grip is firm, his palm clammy to the touch, but that hardly has any negative effect on your impression of him.

You give him your name, and he replies with a nod of acknowledgment.

The other girl with pink hair chimes in, giving a wave as she speaks. “I'm Seraphine.”

Ezreal grins and glances over to the girl with green hair. “And this is Zeri.”

Zeri looks up, her eyes locking with yours. “Hey,” Zeri says, smiling.

Ezreal chuckles as he takes his hand back from your grip. “Friendly lot we've got here, huh?” He shakes his head and leans back, resting his hands on the edges of the boat. The boat wobbles as he does so, causing Seraphine to grab the edge to steady herself.

“Easy there, Ezreal,” the pink-haired girl says, giving a laugh.

Ezreal smiles apologetically at Seraphine. “Sorry.” He glances back at you and then looks down at the castle. “How'd they get the electricity…?”

“They do magic, remember?” Zeri says. “Who needs electricity when you can just cast spells to get things done?”

Ezreal lets out a sigh, rolling his eyes. “No, Z, that's not what I meant,” he replies. “I meant, like, does Hogwarts have plugs and stuff?”

Seraphine laughs. “I don't think they have plugs… It's a magic school, Ezreal. I don't think they have technology.”

Ezreal groans. “Oh man, I'm going to miss phones and video games.”

Zeri pats him on the back. “Hey, you'll survive, Ez.”

Ezreal gives a pout and looks at you. “What about you? What do you think of this place so far?”

You consider the question, looking around the lake. “It's…” you begin, searching for the right adjectives. “Different.”

Ezreal nods, agreeing. “I still can't believe I'm here.”

Zeri and Seraphine also both nod in agreement. “Me too,” Zeri says, while Seraphine adds, “This is all really new to me as well.”

—

You reach the top of the great stone stairs of Hogwarts, leading into the Entrance Hall.

You look up at the woman that stands before you. She gives you an appraising look before her gaze is diverted by Powder walking up the stairs to stand beside you.

The tall, pale woman has a grim look on her face and cold eyes that make you think she'd relish the chance to watch you squirm in fear as she feeds you to a giant squid in the lake if you so much as step out of line.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” she speaks, her voice just stern enough to make it clear you have a new authority figure to be wary of, yet not unkind enough to make you think she'll actively seek out ways to punish you for your misdeeds.

“My name is Professor LeBlanc, and I am the Deputy Headmistress of this school,” LeBlanc says, giving you, Powder, and the other students around you a look that causes you to stand just a bit straighter.

“There are four houses, and you will all be sorted into one of them.” LeBlanc says, her eye moving over every student in front of her.

Some of them look excited, some of them look slightly anxious, and others just look bored that they have to sit through another introduction.

“Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff,” the headmistress continues. “Each house values different traits in its students.”

“Gryffindor values courage, bravery, and integrity.” Professor LeBlanc turns her attention to a group of students off to the side. The students seem to stand straighter as Leblanc eyes them.

“Slytherin values ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness.” LeBlanc turns her gaze to another group of students, who seem to puff up with pride.

“Ravenclaw values intelligence, creativity, and wisdom.” LeBlanc then turns her focus to a third group of students, who look nervous now that they have LeBlanc's entire attention on them.

“And finally, Hufflepuff values hard work, dedication, and loyalty,” LeBlanc continues, looking at the last group of students, who all give Leblanc a nervous smile.

She pauses, her eyes momentarily returning to Powder and you. “Your triumphs will earn you points, any rule-breaking will lose you points. In a few moments, we will be entering the Great Hall, and the sorting ceremony will begin.” LeBlanc steps out of the way, gesturing to the doors. “Any questions?”

You look over at Powder, who meets your eyes and gives you a shrug in reply.

“No questions then.” LeBlanc glances at students once more before nodding to herself and turning to the doors, which swing open with a dramatic flourish.

You follow the headmistress through the doors, stepping into the Great Hall, and look up at the ceilings, the night sky painted on in such detail.

It looks so real, as if you could reach out and touch the twirling stars. You can't tell if it's a painting or if it's actually real-

“It's bewitched to look like the sky outside,” a voice whispers next to you. You tilt your head, and Powder is walking beside you. “I read about it in Hogwarts: A History.”

She takes a minute to study the walls of the Great Hall, then turns her attention to the ceiling once more, her eyes darting between the night sky and the floating candles.

“Pretty neat, I guess,” she finally says, voice low. “Can you imagine falling asleep under that?”

The headmistress leads the first years through the Great Hall, stopping near the front of the hall.

An old, tattered looking hat sits on the stool. Its brim is lopsided and the hat looks like it's one strong gust of wind away from falling apart.

“That's the sorting hat,” Powder whispers, her eyes glued on the old hat. “Apparently the hat can read your personality and puts you in the house that will-”

She is cut off as the hat on the stool suddenly starts to twitch, its mouth (if it can even be called that) opening wide. A low, gravely voice came from the tattered hat and began to sing.

When the hat finally finishes its song, it bows to the four houses.

All the students, particularly the first years, start to nervously and quietly applaud the sorting hat, as if it might somehow get angry with them if they don't give it the attention it clearly desires.

The headmistress unrolls a long piece of parchment. “When you hear your name called, you will go up to the stool and take a seat, then the hat will be placed on your head.” LeBlanc says, a few students gulp. “When the hat makes its decision, take a seat at the table of your house. We will begin.”

You watch as several students go up, the sorting hat resting on their heads for a few seconds, then the hat is removed, and the students take their seats at the corresponding house.

Ezreal is sorted into Slytherin, Seraphine and Zeri are placed into Gryffindor.

You look at Powder, who shifts awkwardly as Professor LeBlanc continues to call students. Finally, Powder hears her own name.

“Lane, Powder.”

Powder looks once at you before walking towards the sorting hat. LeBlanc places the hat on Powder's head, then steps back. Powder's mouth is drawn in a tight line, and you can hardly see her eyes, her hair covering them as the hat rests on her head.

The sorting hat is left on Powder's head for much longer compared to the other students before-

“RAVENCLAW!”

One of the tables burst into applause and cheers. Powder blinks before taking the hat off of her head and handing it back to Professor LeBlanc. She walks to the table, finding an empty spot between two students.

You see Powder's eyes dart around the table, searching until her eyes land on you. She smiles.

Professor LeBlanc continues the sorting, and finally, you hear your name.

You keep your head up and back straight, but that doesn't stop your ears from picking up hushed whispers from your fellow students.

“It's her-”

“Do you think it's really her?”

“The girl who…”

Their words barely register in your mind, but your skin feels like it's burning from the attention.

You sit on the stool, trying to look as calm as possible as you look down at the faces staring up at you. You can't look away from them, despite wanting to bury your head in the ground.

LeBlanc places the hat on your head. You hear her say something but can't quite make out the words—not over the sound of your heart thumping in your ears.

The hat sits on your head, and you feel the slightest pressure.

Then, a voice.

Hmm... interesting…

Your eyes flicker down in surprise. The hat was-

...yes... interesting indeed...

You feel a nudge on your mind, like a finger gently prodding it.

So much courage and loyalty... yet no Hufflepuff...

The pressure on your head intensifies, the hat slowly shifting.

Ambition and a desire to prove yourself... you would make a strong Slytherin...

The hat continues to shift on your head, you can hear the voices of students watching you, and some of their words reach your ears.

“What if she's a dark witch?”

Another voice replies. “Don't be stupid. She can't be evil if she-”

...and intelligence and creativity like yours would do well in Ravenclaw just like your mother…

Mother?

You feel the hat shift again as if it had heard your thoughts.

Yes... the same intelligence and sharp wit.

The hat pauses, leaving you in the silence of your own mind.

But you're a different girl than her, aren't you?

Different.

You're different.

In what way?

In many ways. You could do great things...

...or terrible things.

You could... become… someone...

The hat goes silent again, it has a curious feel in your head—you get the impression that it wants to know more about you.

Like a strange parent that doesn't know who you really are.

Or a therapist.

You're not sure why that last thought enters your mind.

The hat speaks again, louder this time, so it could be heard by everyone in the hall.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

You take the hat off your head and hand it to Professor LeBlanc before moving off the stool. You notice the strange looks given to you from the students when they hear the answer.

You walk to the table, taking an empty seat beside a pink-haired girl. You look around the hall before your eyes settle on Powder, gives you a thumbs up.

You also notice Caitlyn's face from across the hall, clapping and smiling widely at you. You have a feeling she's very proud of you. Even though you just sat on a chair and wore a hat.

The pink-haired girl turns towards you with a smile. “Hey,” she says.

Before you can say hello back or even introduce yourself, she takes the time to study you, her eyes flickering all across your face and body.

After a few seconds, she cocks an eyebrow, then continues with a hand held out towards you. “I'm Violet, by the way. You can call me Vi.”

You shake her hand, returning her grin with a smile of your own. “Nice to meet you, Vi.”

Vi jabs a thumb towards the boy sitting on the other side of her. “Mylo, my brother.”

Mylo glances up, lifting a hand in a half-wave. The guy sitting next to him looks over and grins, holding up a hand in greeting. “Claggor.”

Vi leans forward, pointing towards the Ravenclaw table. “And that's my sister, Powder.”

Powder glances over, spotting your eye again, and grins, waving at you. Vi notices you returning her sister's wave and turns with a raised eyebrow. “You know my sister?”

You nod. “Yep,” you reply, “We met on the train.”

“Oh, did you now?”

Before you can respond, Mylo chimes in. “She's the one with the scar, right? the girl who survived that Dark Lord fella's curse?”

Vi's eyes widen. “Wait, seriously? that's you?”

When you nod to confirm it, Mylo lets out a whistle. “Damn. How'd ya manage to survive?”

Claggor smacks him on the shoulder. “Dude, you can't just ask that.”

“Why not?” Mylo grumbles, rubbing his shoulder where Claggor hit him.

Claggor shrugs as he takes a sip from his goblet. “It's kinda rude, asking something like that.” He looks over at you and shrugs with a smile. “No offense.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Mylo says with a sheepish grin. “I didn't mean to offend you, really.”

You wave a hand and shake your head with a smile. “No, no, it's okay,” you say, “I don't mind.”

“I mean-” Mylo starts to say something else, but Claggor shoves him again, shutting him up.

“Ignore him,” Vi says, “He's a bit of an idiot sometimes.”

“Hey,” Mylo complains, but stops when Vi shoots him a sidelong glance.

You then glance at the empty golden plate in front of you. Your stomach growls, reminding you how hungry you are.

Claggor chuckles warmly. “Hungry, huh?”

You nod. “Yeah, I haven't eaten yet.”

That's when Mylo grins. “You're gonna love the food here, it's the best you'll ever have. The house elves cook it all for us.”

The headmaster rises from his seat, a wide smile on his face. “Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!”

The hall cheers and claps, Vi gives an enthusiastic “WOO!”

“To our new students, welcome! and to returning students, welcome back!” He sweeps an arm towards the four house tables. “Let the feast commence!”

—

After finishing your meal, your attention shifts away from the food and towards the long table at the front of the great hall.

Professor Talis glances up and meets your eye. He gives you a smile and a nod before looking back down at his plate.

You spot Professor Heimerdinger sitting at the end of the professors' table. He's the one from the chocolate frog card with the same bushy mustache and small stature. He's engaged in a conversation with a dark-haired professor next to him.

You continue to scan the long table, and your gaze drifts to Professor Leblanc. She's chatting with the burly man seated in the center of the table. You figure he must be the headmaster, Professor Vander.

You turn your attention back to the professors and notice Professor Singed from the Leaky Cauldron, leaning in to whisper something to a man with a scar over one eye. His eyes lock with your own, and then suddenly-

“Ouch!”

You feel sharp pain, like a searing hot wire being pushed through your skull from the scar on your forehead. You wince, bringing a hand up to rub the scar reflexively.

What was that...?

Vi, having finished her food, looks over at you, noticing your pained wince. “What is it?”

The sudden pain in your forehead subsides, and you lower your hand, looking back to Vi. “It's nothing,” you lie, trying to shrug it off.

You look back over at the man with the scar, but he's no longer looking in your direction.

Strange.

Maybe it was just a headache.

“Who's that other professor chatting with Professor Singed?” you ask Vi, nodding towards the two men.

Vi follows your gaze and grimaces. “Oh, that's Professor Silco, head of Slytherin House. He teaches DADA.”

You look at Professor Silco with a frown. There's something off-putting about him. “He seems intense, is he always like that?” you wonder aloud.

“Yeah,” She says bluntly, “intense and cunning. You'd be smart to steer clear of him.”

You watch as Professor Silco listens to Professor Singed, nodding along to his words.

Then, the conversations around the table start to die down as Professor LeBlanc clinks her glass with a spoon. “Attention, please!” she exclaims as the last few conversations fade out. The hall falls silent.

The headmaster rises from his seat, straightening out his robes. “Ah, just a few more moments of your time now that all of you are fed and watered. I've got a few start of term notices to give you.”

Professor Vander clears his voice and continues. “First years ought to know that the forest on the edge of the school grounds is forbidden to all students. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”

Heads turn briefly towards Vi and Mylo and Claggor, who look away from the headmaster sheepishly.

“I've also been asked by Professor Heimerdinger-” Professor Vander cuts off, gesturing towards the yordle at the end of the table “-to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.”

There's a collective, annoyed “aww” from the students who had hoped to get away with some mischief.

You take note of the rules. No strolling in the forbidden forest and no magic in the corridors. Simple enough.

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house team ought to contact Madam Sevika.”

You sit up a bit. You've heard about the different Quidditch positions: seekers, beaters, chasers, and keepers. You wonder if you'd be any good at playing the game.

“And finally,” Professor Vander says, drawing your attention back to the headmaster, “I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.”

That's... a pretty harsh punishment.

You turn to Vi for clarification if the headmaster is joking, but she shakes her head, shrugging. She looks equally confused.

“And now, before we all go to bed, let us sing the school song!”

—

The head boy motions for the gathered Gryffindor first years to follow him. “Gryffindors, follow me, please. Keep up, thank you.”

You wave goodbye to Powder, watching her head off in the opposite direction with the rest of the Ravenclaw firsties.

A girl bumps into your shoulder as she walks past you, mumbling a ‘sorry’ before hurrying off to catch up with her friends.

You follow the head boy and stop on the stairs.

The stairs move.

You look up to see where they're going, only to realize that the steps have split off in two different directions. You make a mental note to be careful.

“Come on, come on!”

You keep walking, looking at the paintings on the walls.

One of them has a man with a very long, silvery beard, who winks at you as you walk past.

Another painting shows a group of men and women in medieval clothing, and one of the men tips his hat to you.

They all look so real, it's crazy to think they're just paintings.

...but then again, you're at a school for wizards, so maybe it's not that crazy.

You hear the first years murmuring curiously around you.

“Did you see the one with the beard?”

“Yeah, he smiled at me.”

“I wonder if they can talk.”

It's not long until you reach the hallway, the entrance to the Gryffindor dorms.

The head boy stops walking in front of the portrait of a lady with a powdered white face and big hair. He then turns to face you.

“This is the portrait for the common room. The password changes every month or week. The current password is ‘caput draconis.’ Remember, don't share the password with anyone from other houses, and the painting will know if you don't give the correct password.”

You and the other first years exchange looks.

“Caput draconis…” someone mutters, trying to remember it.

You repeat the words in your head a few times. Caput draconis. Caput draconis. Caput draconis.

The head boy clears his throat. “The correct pronunciation is ‘KAH-put DRAW-con-is,’” he says, enunciating the syllables clearly.

The others nod, and a few of them practice the pronunciation out loud.

The head boy nods in approval and turns back to the portrait. “Caput draconis.” The portrait then swings forward, revealing a stone archway into the common room.

“Come on, come on, get in,” he urges, gesturing for the first years to enter.

You and the other first years file into the common room, and the head boy follows behind, counting each Gryffindor firstie to make sure they all get inside.

There's a fire crackling in the brick fireplace. Couches and wingback chairs are situated around the room for relaxing, and there are several tables and desks for studying.

Some older students are lounging in the common room, some reading or studying, others chatting with friends.

You see Vi and her brothers waving at you. You wave back before turning your attention to the head boy, not wanting to be rude.

The head boy stands next to the fireplace, clearing his throat loudly to get everyone's attention. “Settle down, settle down, everybody.”

The older students quiet down, and the first years stop chatting and turn to look at the head boy.

“All right, welcome to your new home for the next seven years,” he begins. “I'm Tryndamere, a 6th year prefect. My job is to make sure you follow the rules, keep out of trouble, and help the younger students.”

Tryndamere lets his gaze linger on a few of the shyer students, as if to make sure they're paying attention.

“Now, I'm sure you're all eager to unpack your things, but first, I have to lay down a few rules.”

He then begins listing out the rules and guidelines, which include keeping the common room tidy, respecting the other students' privacy, and following curfew.

He also explains that the boy's dormitories are on the left and the girl's on the right and indicates which ones are for which year before leaving you to find your own.

—

You step into the first year girls dorm and find that your trunk has already been brought up and is now waiting at the foot of your bed, which has scarlet-covered comforters.

On your bed is a note, written in a neat, flowing calligraphy. Judging by the neatness of the writing, you know who it's from.

You pick up the note and unfold it.

Dear Cousin,

I hope you found everything in order and that you haven't been terrorized by other students yet.

I left a small care package on your bed, some sweets and other things you might need.

I'll be in the library studying for my upcoming N.E.W.T.S. See you tomorrow.

- C

You turn back to your bed and on top of the comforters is, as she said, a small package. You decide to leave the package for now, you're just too tired and bed is calling your name.

You take one last glance around the dorm and see that Zeri and Seraphine are already asleep in their respective beds.

There's also a cat, the one that Professor Talis and your cousin gifted, sitting by the window.

You change into your pajamas and crawl into your own bed, pulling the scarlet comforters over you. Your head has barely hit the pillow when the tiredness takes over, and you fall fast asleep.

—

You're suddenly plunged into complete darkness, but not the comforting type of darkness you get in the safety of your own bed.

This is deep, unending darkness that feels like it lasts an eternity.

But then, the darkness is broken. You see a lone figure, blue hair, slender and pale, with her chin to her knee. Her back is turned away from you, and you think you can hear her sobbing.

You've seen this before.

Something about her is tugging at the back of your mind, trying to make you remember something. But what?

You're snapped out of your thoughts when you hear Professor Singed's voice, “You must transfer to Slytherin.” You turn your head towards him. “It is... your destiny.”

Destiny.

Professor Singed continues, his lips moving, but you're finding it difficult to focus on his words.

You keep your eyes fixed on the figure before you.

Who is she?

Despite the growing feeling that you've seen her somewhere before, your mind has no answer.

Why is she crying?

No answer to that one either.

Why does this all feel so familiar?

Again, no answer. Just a frustrating silence.

Your mind becomes aware of something else.

It feels like... something is wrapped tightly around your neck, like a snake slowly coiling around your throat.

You reach up and feel fabric wrapped around your neck, tightening its grip with every passing second.

Wait, is that Professor Singed's robe?

You look down and see the tail of the robe, the rest of the fabric disappearing into Professor Singed's sleeve.

You turn your head towards Singed, and suddenly, the world seems to slow down.

Singed is laughing.

His lips are spread into a wide grin, showing off his yellow stained teeth. Trapped like a mouse, pinned by his gaze like a bug on a corkboard. And then... then you hear someone else laugh.

Another laugh, a bit different from Singed's.

You turn your head towards the new figure.

Blue braided hair. Slender. Pale face. Pink eyes.

You've seen her somewhere. You know her. But all thoughts fade when the girl turns to a man with a scar on his left eye.

Professor Silco?

You see the girl whisper something to Silco. He gives her a smile and pats her on the head.

The girl's eyes then lock onto yours. Those pink eyes.

“Stay away from Jinx.”

That's the last thing you hear when there's a sudden flash of bright, brilliant green, and the surroundings begin to spin.

It's like you're on the fastest of fairground rides, with colors and lights swirling all around you. You can hardly make out where you are, and you know you're going to vomit when this ride comes to a ha-

The dizziness stops, and you blink to clear your eyes. You found yourself sitting on your bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, clutching your chest as you try to breathe.

Your fellow roommates are still deep in their sleep.

You sigh and slump further into your sheets.

It's just a dream.

You close your eyes and curl up further.

You don't remember anything afterwards.

words: it’s over 10k words so far and it’s only part 1.1… i lowkey feel kinda pressured to make each part just as long if not longer than the first part.. i can feel 100k words incoming ughHHH