Chapter 1: The Beginning.
Chapter Text
I can’t die. Not now. Not after everything. Not after everything.
Ella stumbled forward, barely standing, her legs shaking beneath her as the mouth of the cave came into view—dark, cold, and hidden. That’s all she needed. A place to disappear. To stop bleeding.
Her breath hitched as she dragged herself closer, gritting her teeth through the pain. She couldn’t let anyone find her like this. She couldn’t let this be the end. Her wand slipped from her hand and clattered against the stone, rolling just out of reach. “Noo,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and trembling.
One step. Just one more—her body gave out. She collapsed, the impact jolting her ribs and tearing a sharp cry from her throat. Her hand pressed instinctively to her stomach. Warm, wet, and slick with blood. She was losing too much. Too fast. The world spun. Her vision blurred. Every breath felt like fire and glass in her lungs.
Pain pulsed in waves, cruel and endless, like a thousand knives carving her open from the inside out. She crawled. One arm forward. Then another. Her fingers scraped against the stone floor, reaching, desperate. But her wand was swallowed by the darkness. And her body… her body was giving up.
She let her cheek fall to the cold ground, her breath shallow now, her lips trembling. She couldn’t move anymore. Her limbs had gone numb, heavy as stone, but still—she tried. Her hand trembled as it reached forward, dragging across the rough, blood-slicked stone.
Fingertips brushed something—cold, familiar. Her wand. With the last fragments of strength, Ella pushed herself forward, pain tearing through her like glass. Her body screamed in protest, but she reached it.
Her wand was in her hand. She clutched it, though her vision was fading and the world had dissolved into darkness. She couldn’t see it, but she felt it—her hair, once black as the night, had faded to the blond she feard. It was like whispers of surrender. She forced her mind to remember. Anything Lorenzo had drilled into them in training. Think. But his voice was distant now. Fading. Like he was calling to her from the end of a long, dark corridor.
She couldn't make out the words. Only the echo of his urgency. Her lips parted, but no sound came. Nothing. Just silence. Just blood. Her eyes fluttered shut—just for a second. Just to rest. Then snapped open again. Don’t. Not yet. But the pain was too loud. The cold too deep. She tried again. A spell. A whisper. Anything. But her body refused. Her magic refused. Even her voice had abandoned her.
Her fingers tightened weakly around the wand as if it could anchor her to this world—but her grip was slipping. The pain dulled into something distant, almost quiet, as her mind cracked open and memories spilled through.
Not thoughts. Visions. Moments. She saw them.
They were shadows, haunted and hurt, their eyes dulled by grief and fear.
She saw Draco's hands shaking, Theo with his head in his palms, Matthew staring blankly into a fire that couldn’t warm him. Lorenzo, angry at nothing, pushing people away.
She wasn’t in those moments. She realized, with a hollow ache, they were looking for her. Missing her. Mourning her.
Then the images shifted—flickered like an old film, grainy and golden. There they were again. Laughing in the Room of Requirement. Her skirt twirling as she spun to the music, off-key singing, Theo throwing a pillow at her. Draco smirking from his seat on the floor. Matthew laughing at her as he plays the piano. Lorenzo pretending not to watch, but his smile giving him away. They were so alive. So loud. So full of color.
That was before the war. Before the fear. Before blood had touched any of them.
Then—another shift. She was small again, no older than six or seven. Running barefoot through the halls of the orphanage, her giggles echoing like wind chimes. A paper crown on her head, carrying a lopsided, crumbling, perfect cake. The caretakers weren’t cruel there. The kids weren’t cruel either. She remembered hugs. She remembered songs at bedtime. She remembered the way they called her name like it mattered.
She didn’t know what a wand was back then.
She didn’t know anything about magic or curses or war. She only knew love. In the simplest, purest form. Her lips parted as if to say something. Maybe thank you. Maybe I miss it.
But no words came. Her heartbeat slowed. Her lungs ached. No… she whispered inside her mind again, softer this time. I can’t die here.
But the warmth of those memories was fading. Drifting out of reach.
The silence around her whispered back: You already are.
_____________________________________________________________________________
The rain was lashing down the little, cobblestoned street. The gutters overflowed as water accumulated in the spaces between the stones. Thunder rolled overhead, deep and distant, while lightning flickered in the clouds like a warning.
At the doorstep of the orphanage—a tall, grim building with ivy crawling up its walls and windows like hollow eyes—a small girl lay nestled in a worn wicker basket. The storm raged on, but she didn’t cry. She lay still beneath a damp blanket, her tiny hands curled against her chest. Tied to the handle of the basket was a single card, its ink smudged but still legible:
“Ella Celestine. Born March 16, 1981.”
The orphanage was a tall, imposing building, and the roadway was dim and foreboding. The young girl felt smaller as it appeared to loom over her, casting a shadow. Inside, Mrs. Smith—the headmistress—was lighting the last of the hallway candles when she heard a creak at the front door. She hesitated, her brows knitting together, then opened it to find the small basket nearly hidden beneath a drenched cloth.
“Oh, heavens...” she breathed, reaching down.
She lifted the girl gently from the basket and wrapped her in a warm towel. The child was so light—far too small for a one-year-old. Her skin was pale, almost porcelain, and her black hair was so dark and glossy it looked like ink flowing through her fingers. But it was the eyes that made Mrs. Smith pause.
Green. Not just green—glowing. They glittered unnaturally, even in the candlelight. Wide and unblinking, they stared up at her with a strange calmness. Not frightened. Not even confused. Just…watching.
Then Ella made a soft cooing sound, and her tiny fingers reached up toward Mrs. Smith’s face. A fragile, human gesture. And just like that, the moment passed.
Mrs. Smith ran a hand gently through the girl’s silken hair. “You poor little thing,” she whispered. She didn’t know it yet—but the child in her arms wasn’t ordinary. And one day, the name "Ella Celestine" would echo far beyond the stone halls of that orphanage.
Ella settled into her new home as if she had always belonged there.
The orphanage, though old and weather-worn, was not a cold place. Its stone walls were softened by thick velvet curtains and shelves overflowing with books, handmade toys, and fading drawings pinned lovingly to corkboards. Warm fires crackled in hearths during the winter months, and sunlight streamed through tall windows in the spring, casting golden pools on the wooden floors. It smelled of cinnamon, lemon soap, and sometimes jam when Mrs. Smith baked for the children on Sundays.
Despite its intimidating size from the outside, the orphanage was a haven—a home filled with laughter, mischief, scraped knees, and lullabies sung just off-key.
And at the center of it all was Ella.
Though she was still small for her age, her presence was anything but. From the moment she began to walk properly, Ella flitted through the halls like a burst of light. Her laughter echoed through the stairwells like chimes in the wind, and her giggles often gave away the hiding spots of others during games of hide-and-seek. She had a way of turning the most mundane corners of the orphanage into kingdoms, castles, or secret forests. Her imagination was boundless.
She cuddled easily, smiled often, and had a laugh that could brighten even the gloomiest rain-drenched day. Mrs. Smith would often find her nestled in the nursery, surrounded by babies who clapped and squealed as Ella played peekaboo with unmatched enthusiasm. When she wasn't there, she’d be tumbling in the common area with toddlers chasing after her in a noisy, joyful blur.
What surprised everyone most, though, was how effortlessly Ella connected with the older children, too. Some of them had come to the orphanage carrying heavy memories, harder to reach with smiles alone—but Ella had a way. When they offered her toys or books, she gave them back decorated with scribbled stars or painted flowers. She once gave a boy named Henry a stone she had painted with a red dragon, and he carried it in his pocket for years.
Mrs. Smith often stood by the doorway, arms crossed, smiling softly at the scene. “She’s got the soul of a sunbeam, that one,” she once murmured to the cook. “A heart too big for her little body.”
Mrs. Smith herself was a kind woman—firm when she had to be, but her heart was stitched with softness. She never let a child go to bed feeling unloved. She knew every birthday, every favorite meal, every fear and every joy in that house. Her love was quiet and constant, like the tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway or the way the lights were always turned on just before the children came inside from play.
Ella adored her.
In the evenings, Ella would often curl up in Mrs. Smith’s armchair with a blanket and a book too big for her to carry. Mrs. Smith would sit beside her with her knitting, occasionally glancing down to find Ella asleep, her head tilted against the armrest, her thumb still tucked near her chin.
She was content. Loved. And during the day, Ella was nothing but joy and brightness.
But the nights… the nights were different.
It started quietly.
At first, Mrs. Smith thought it was only the wind or the creak of the old building, but soon the truth became clear. By the time Ella was five, a pattern had formed. Night after night, just before midnight, Ella would begin to cry in her sleep. Other times, she would call out—not names, but sounds. Breaths that felt like memories trying to surface.
At first, Mrs. Smith thought perhaps Ella was just missing something she didn’t know how to name. A vague sense of longing—common in children who arrived without family.
But then, the dreams got worse.
Ella would sometimes scream in her sleep, the kind of scream that sent shivers down the hallways and had the other children waking with wide eyes. She’d thrash beneath her sheets, twisting violently, caught in some invisible grip that held her hostage in her dreams. More than once, she’d fallen from her bed. Her little hands would grasp at the air, and her breathing would come in ragged gasps.
Mrs. Smith started sitting by her bedside during the nights it was particularly bad. She would softly stroke Ella’s head, murmuring comfort until the child calmed, though often she’d do so with tears still sliding down her cheeks even in unconsciousness.
Mrs. Smith never pushed her to explain when she woke. Most mornings, Ella wouldn’t even remember the dreams.
But sometimes, in the quiet lull of a cloudy afternoon, she would speak in that soft, faraway voice that didn’t sound like it belonged to a child.
“I see them every time. A man and a woman,” she had once told Mrs. Smith while tying bows in the younger children’s hair. “They look like angels… their hair is white, but they have no light in their eyes. Their eyes are all black. Like… like ink.”
Mrs. Smith had gone still at that. Her knitting needle paused in mid-air.
Ella looked up at her.
“They’re always lying on the floor. A wooden floor. I think… I think I loved them.”
It haunted Mrs. Smith in ways she couldn’t explain. And even more haunting was the question that had begun to gnaw at her in secret—
Why had Ella never been adopted?
Other children came and went. Sweet children, difficult children, babies, teens—some stayed longer than others, but few stayed as long as Ella had. And yet, despite her bright smile and her warm heart, no family ever chose her.
They met her. They liked her. They often smiled and said, “She’s darling,” or “What a polite little girl.”
But it always ended with a polite decline. A vague excuse. A sudden change of plans.
Sometimes, a prospective parent would come into her office, shaking slightly, whispering, “There’s something… I can’t explain. A feeling.”
Mrs. Smith never said what she thought in those moments, though the words sat bitter on her tongue: You’re afraid of her, and you don’t even know why.
But Mrs. Smith wasn’t.
She loved Ella as fiercely as if she were her own. And she had decided long ago that if no one ever adopted her, then so be it—Ella would stay here, in this home filled with warmth and laughter, where no one would ask her to shrink herself.
“She’s got an old sadness in her,” the nurse once whispered to Mrs. Smith.
But Mrs. Smith simply replied, “Then we love her twice as hard.”
And they did.
Everyone in that house, from the crawling toddlers to the brooding teenagers, came to love Ella—not just for her kindness, but for the way she made the orphanage feel more alive.
One day, the warm scent of cinnamon tea drifted through the halls as the rain tapped softly at the orphanage windows. Mrs. Smith was just folding fresh linens when a gentle knock echoed from the front door.
A young couple stood outside—nervous but hopeful. The woman had soft eyes, the kind that seemed to see the world with compassion, while the man’s hand stayed securely in hers, as though bracing each other for whatever came next.
After greeting them with her usual warmth, Mrs. Smith led them into her cozy office, its walls lined with old books and cheerful photographs of past residents who had since found homes. She poured them tea, offered them butter biscuits, and began speaking of Ella.
“She’s a little miracle,” she said fondly, her voice softening. “You’ll find no sweeter child. She plays with everyone. Helps with the little ones. Always a smile on her face. She’s curious and clever, and she draws the most peculiar little pictures.”
The couple listened with quiet awe. The woman even took notes.
They were eager to meet her.
From the nearby playroom, laughter echoed like a melody—bright and unfiltered. The sound of tiny feet running, toys clinking, and a child’s unrestrained giggle. Mrs. Smith smiled as she led them down the hall, her footsteps echoing off the stone tiles.
Inside the room, Ella was playing with a group of children, building towers out of wooden blocks, balancing them higher and higher until they nearly toppled. She wore a sky-blue dress that brought out the unnatural glow of her green eyes, and when she laughed, it was a sound that made even the quietest corners of the orphanage feel full.
When Mrs. Smith gently called her name, Ella looked up, her face lighting with curiosity.
“These lovely people would like to meet you, darling,” she said gently. “Why don’t you talk with them for a while?”
Ella nodded, always polite, and toddled over. The couple knelt on the floor beside her and began talking—about their cozy cottage near the woods, their garden full of lilies, and how they always read stories before bed. Ella listened with bright eyes, occasionally nodding, occasionally tilting her head with interest. When they brought out a stuffed rabbit and invited her to play, she giggled and hugged it tight.
Then the man asked the question.
“What would you think, Ella… about coming home with us? Becoming part of our family?”
Ella’s hands froze mid-motion.
The stuffed rabbit slipped from her grip and hit the carpet with a soft thud.
And for a moment—just a blink—the air in the room seemed to shift.
The woman gasped.
The man drew back, ever so slightly.
Ella blinked, confused at first, then tilted her head, her green eyes—no, not green anymore. A deep, dark void stared back at them. Her irises were gone, replaced by endless blackness. Still, her face was blank, placid, childlike—but her eyes held something cold. The silence in the room stretched like it was made of glass.
“I-It’s okay,” the man finally stammered, voice shaky. “We won’t take you away if you don’t want us to.”
Ella blinked again.
The black vanished.
She smiled brightly as if nothing had happened. Bent down, picked up the rabbit, and continued to play as though the moment had never occurred.
The couple quietly excused themselves, their smiles forced and faces pale. Mrs. Smith met them in the hallway and instantly noticed the shift in their demeanor.
“Is everything alright?” she asked, her heart already sinking.
They exchanged a glance. The man rubbed the back of his neck. The woman bit her lip.
Finally, he spoke.
“She’s… she’s wonderful. We can see she’s lovely. But while we were talking to her, her eyes—they changed. They turned completely black. Like… not human. Like staring into a void.”
Mrs. Smith blinked, stunned.
“I’ve never seen or heard of anything like that,” he continued. “It was only for a moment. But it felt like something… something looked back at us.”
Mrs. Smith struggled to find words. “What were you talking about? Do you remember what made it happen?”
The woman nodded slowly. “He asked her if she wanted to come with us. That was it. And when he reassured her that we wouldn’t take her, her eyes changed back, and she smiled again.”
A chill ran through Mrs. Smith’s spine, but she kept her composure. She offered them warm thanks, a list of contacts for other orphanages, and a sincere apology.
When they had gone, she returned to the playroom. Ella was spinning with one of the younger toddlers, laughing without a care in the world.
She looked the same as ever.
But Mrs. Smith watched her with different eyes now.
She continued to observe her closely over the following weeks. Waiting. Wondering.
But Ella never changed again.
She played, she painted, she told stories and sang to the babies. She cuddled with Mrs. Smith during thunder and cried during sad endings in books. Her eyes were green, glimmering as always. Not even a flicker of that strange darkness returned.
And yet…Mrs. Smith loved her, that much never changed. But somewhere, deep in her soul, the seeds of unease had taken root.
As Ella grew older, she quickly became known throughout the orphanage as a relentless chatterbox. Her mouth seemed to run as fast as her mind, always bubbling with stories, ideas, and questions—so many questions. From the moment she woke up to the moment she fell asleep, Ella was talking.
Some of the other children would occasionally roll their eyes or plug their ears dramatically when she started one of her long-winded stories. But Mrs. Smith? She adored it. She would often say, “Let the child talk—she’s thinking through the world out loud,” and smile softly at Ella’s whirlwind energy. She saw the intelligence gleaming behind all those words, the way Ella’s mind was constantly reaching, curious and alive.
Mrs. Smith believed that the most vibrant souls were often the loudest ones.
Ella's best friend in the world was Tim—a boy just a year older than her with curly brown hair, freckles across his nose, and the grin of a born troublemaker. From the moment they met, they’d been inseparable. Tim was quieter than Ella, but his silences were always filled with laughter waiting to burst. He had a way of responding to Ella’s endless talking with just the right joke or phrase to make her laugh so hard she'd fall over.
Together, they were a dynamic duo of chaos.
They explored every corner of the orphanage like it was their private kingdom—sneaking into the attic, crawling beneath the floorboards, discovering forgotten passageways, and naming every creaky floorboard after imaginary monsters. They built forts out of sheets, hosted secret club meetings, and left behind a trail of giggles and glitter (sometimes literally) wherever they went.
But it was their love of pranks that truly cemented their legend.
Shaving cream in shoes. Fake spiders under pillows. Furniture mysteriously rearranged while someone was out for lunch. Sticky notes with silly messages—“HUG ME, I’M A WALRUS”—on people’s backs. They once filled the dining room with hundreds of paper frogs just in time for breakfast. The laughter echoed through the halls for days.
Of course, they always made sure their tricks were harmless, and they were quick to say sorry if someone didn’t take it well. For all their mischievousness, Tim and Ella had kind hearts. They didn’t pull pranks to embarrass or hurt anyone. They simply wanted everyone to smile, to forget that they were waiting for something... or someone.
After a prank, they’d often help the person clean up, or sneak them extra dessert from the kitchen. Ella was especially good at giving hand-drawn apology cards—usually with a badly drawn bunny and a glittery heart on it.
“We’re just trying to make the place less boring,” she once told Mrs. Smith with a cheeky grin, a dab of whipped cream on her nose.
Mrs. Smith had simply shaken her head, trying not to laugh. “One day, you two will be too clever for your own good.”
But deep down, she was grateful. In a place where many children carried heavy hearts, Ella and Tim brought a spark of wild, unrelenting joy.
And though no one could quite explain where Ella had come from or why no family had ever taken her home… she belonged.
Here.
With Tim.
With laughter in the hallways and stories that never seemed to end.
As Ella grew older, her interests began to stretch beyond pranks and play. Around the age of eight, she developed a deep fascination with baking and cooking. It started out innocently enough—just watching the kitchen staff prepare meals with wide, curious eyes, asking question after question, her voice barely keeping up with her excitement. But before long, she was sneaking into the kitchen during free time, trying her hand at simple recipes with whatever ingredients she could get her hands on.
What began with burnt toast and over-salted cookies quickly blossomed into a real talent.
Ella had a natural flair for flavor and a surprising sense of balance and creativity. She experimented, failed, tried again, and slowly started mastering more complex dishes. It wasn’t long before the kitchen staff began setting aside extra ingredients just for her little projects, happy to encourage her growing passion.
Tim, of course, became her loyal taste tester. He took his job very seriously—sometimes too seriously, especially if chocolate was involved. “Hmm,” he’d say, chewing dramatically, “needs more sugar. Maybe a whole bucket more.”
Ella would giggle, swat his shoulder, and try again.
By the time she turned nine, she had made up her mind: Tim’s next birthday would be celebrated with the best birthday cake he’d ever had. She planned for weeks in advance, pouring over old cookbooks in the library and pestering the cooks with questions. She practiced making sponge layers, whipping frosting until her arms were sore, and testing how long chocolate needed to melt without burning.
When the big day finally arrived, Ella was ready.
The chocolate cake she’d made was rich and soft, perfectly baked. She’d layered it with sweet frosting and covered it in rainbow sprinkles and bright icing in Tim’s favorite colors. On top of the cake sat a little bear she’d crafted from fondant—a wobbly but adorable version of the stuffed animal Tim had slept with since they were toddlers.
When the orphanage gathered in the dining room and Ella presented the cake, the room filled with cheers and claps.
Tim beamed as he blew out the candles, and everyone leaned in eagerly as he cut the first slice. The moment he took a bite, his eyes widened. “This is… incredible!” he declared, his mouth still half full. The kids cheered, and some of the adults even went back for seconds.
Ella just stood there, covered in a dusting of flour and icing, grinning from ear to ear. Her cheeks were pink with pride, and in that moment, she didn’t care that her hands were sticky or that she’d been up since dawn working on it. She had made something that brought joy.
One calm afternoon at the orphanage, Ella sat alone in the garden, lost in her usual daydreams. The sun warmed her skin, birds chirped above in the swaying branches, and a gentle breeze tickled the grass. She held a small purple flower in her hand, twirling it slowly as she stared up at the sky.
Then, suddenly—her fingers tingled.
It was a strange, prickling sensation that made her glance down instinctively. Her breath caught. The flower in her palm had deepened in color, becoming a striking, vivid purple—far richer than it had been seconds before. And as she watched in stunned silence, the petals began to darken, the color draining into a velvet black. It wasn’t a sickly black—it was beautiful. Mysterious. Like the night sky without stars.
Ella gasped quietly.
She lifted the black rose closer, breathing in its scent. It smelled faintly of rain and something ancient she couldn’t name. Her eyes sparkled. The strangeness of it didn’t frighten her—it enchanted her. Whatever had just happened felt right. Like something that belonged to her, deep down.
Still holding the flower, Ella jumped to her feet and took off running, her heart pounding with urgency and excitement. She didn’t know what it meant, but she needed to tell someone.
Mrs. Smith.
She burst into the orphanage and raced down the hall, skidding to a stop in front of the office. Without waiting, she knocked hurriedly.
“Come in!” came Mrs. Smith’s voice from inside.
Ella pushed the door open and rushed in, cheeks flushed, hair slightly windswept. “Mrs. Smith! Something happened—I was in the garden and I touched a flower and—and look!” She held out the black rose, her eyes wide with wonder as she explained everything that had unfolded.
Mrs. Smith stared at the flower, her expression unreadable for a moment. She glanced at Ella, then slowly sat back in her chair.
“That’s… very impressive, dear,” she said gently, her tone calm but thoughtful. “But… would you do something for me?” she asked, offering a soft smile. “Would you keep this a secret—for now?”
Ella blinked. “Even from Tim?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Smith said with a nod. “Even from Tim.”
Ella hesitated, but finally nodded. “Okay.”
Mrs. Smith smiled again and patted her hand, sending Ella off with a sweet and calming tone.
Once Ella left the room, Mrs. Smith’s smile faded.
She rose quietly and stepped to the door, peeking out into the hallway. Then she turned back and called, “Sophia? Could you come in, please?”
Sophia, the orphanage’s quiet, observant assistant, stepped in moments later.
After listening to Mrs. Smith recount what Ella had told her, Sophia’s expression grew grave. Without a word, she reached for her wand and, with practiced precision, cast a memory charm.
Mrs. Smith blinked, swaying slightly before steadying herself. Her eyes darted around the room in mild confusion. “Where was I? Oh… right, the inventory list…”
She returned to her paperwork, humming softly, none the wiser.
Sophia, meanwhile, left the office silently. She made her way to her quarters, locked the door, and sat at her desk. Pulling out parchment and ink, she began to write—a letter to the Ministry of Magic.
A new muggle-born child at Windrow Orphanage has shown signs of uncontrolled magical ability. Her name is Ella Celestine...
That night, Ella tossed and turned beneath her blankets, her mind a whirlwind of questions. Her fingers still tingled with the memory of the black rose, and the wonder of what she had seen wouldn’t leave her. She clutched the flower tightly beneath her pillow like a secret treasure, eyes wide open in the dark.
Why couldn’t she tell Tim? What was so dangerous about a flower changing color? Why had Mrs. Smith asked her to keep it a secret? Morning couldn’t come fast enough.
The moment the sun crept through the curtains, Ella sprang from bed, tugged on her clothes, and slipped out of the dormitory in her socks. Her heart pounded with nervous determination as she crept through the halls toward Mrs. Smith’s office. She needed answers. She needed to understand.
But just as she reached the door, her hand hovering over the doorknob, a soft voice behind her made her jump.
“Ella,” Sophia said gently, stepping out from the shadows of the hallway, “come with me.”
Ella froze. Something about Sophia’s tone was different. Calmer. Steadier. She hesitated but nodded, letting the assistant gently guide her back outside to the garden, where sunlight streamed in dappled gold through the trees.
They walked in silence to a quiet spot near the rose bushes. Sophia knelt and looked over a wilting marigold beside them. Then, without pulling out a watering can or even touching the stem, she simply waved her hand once, slowly.
The flower responded instantly.
Its tired petals perked up, stretching toward the sun. The color brightened, golden and vibrant again, as if someone had painted it anew.
Ella’s jaw dropped. Her eyes were huge.
“You… you just—” she whispered.
Sophia looked over at her and offered a small, knowing smile. “Magic,” she said simply.
Ella stared, a hundred emotions rushing through her all at once—shock, awe, curiosity, and an immense sense of relief.
“You are..me..i..”
“I am a witch, just like you,” Sophia replied. “And so are many others. You’re not alone in this, Ella.”
For a moment, Ella didn’t know what to say. A warm breeze danced past, lifting strands of her hair as she looked down at her hands, suddenly seeing them in a different light. Something inside her cracked open, like a door she never knew was there.
She looked up with wide, eager eyes. “I have to tell Tim.”
But Sophia’s expression changed. Her smile faded gently as she shook her head.
“No, Ella,” she said quietly but firmly. “You cannot tell Tim.”
“Why not?” Ella's voice cracked, full of disbelief. “He’s my best friend. He has to know.”
Sophia knelt beside her. “It’s not about trust, Ella. It’s about safety. The wizarding world, the people like us, must remain hidden. It’s one of our oldest and most important laws—Muggles, people without magic, cannot know we exist.”
Ella’s face fell. “But he’s kind. He’d never tell. He’d believe me.”
“I believe you,” Sophia said softly. “But if the wrong people find out… they could hurt him. Or you. Secrets protect people, Ella. Especially those who don’t have magic.”
Ella nodded slowly, her heart heavy. She didn’t want to keep secrets from Tim. But the fear in Sophia’s voice was real. And for now… she had to trust her.
Sophia placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I know it’s hard. But you're brave. And you’re strong. Just like your magic.”
Ella wiped at her eyes and took a shaky breath. “Can you tell me more?”
A soft chuckle slipped from Sophia. “Of course I can. I thought you’d never ask.”
And with that, Sophia sat down beneath the tree, her skirt pooling around her like quiet waves, and began to speak.
“The wizarding world is a hidden world within our own,” she said, her voice taking on a storyteller’s rhythm. “It’s full of witches and wizards who possess powers just like yours. It’s an ancient and beautiful world, filled with wonders, mysteries, and a few dangers too. Magic is part of our everyday lives, from how we cook, to how we travel, to how we protect the people we love.”
Ella sat cross-legged beside her, eyes glued to Sophia, hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“There’s a magical school called Hogwarts,” Sophia went on, her voice almost musical now. “It’s where young witches and wizards go to learn magic. It’s a huge castle hidden in the Scottish Highlands, filled with moving staircases, talking portraits, and classes where you’ll learn to brew potions, cast spells, and even care for magical creatures.”
Ella’s mouth opened in pure wonder. “Really?”
Sophia smiled. “Really. And there’s a whole wizarding community, too. We have our own government—the Ministry of Magic. They keep things in order and make sure our world stays hidden. There’s also Diagon Alley—a secret shopping street in London. You can buy robes, cauldrons, spell books… and the most important thing of all—your wand.”
Ella’s mind was spinning with color and sound, as if someone had just painted an entire universe in front of her eyes.
“Do I… do I get a wand?” she whispered.
“When the time comes, yes,” Sophia said. “The wand chooses the wizard. Each wand is unique, just like you. And once you have it, your magic will grow stronger, more focused.”
“What else?” Ella leaned closer. “Tell me more.”
Sophia grinned. “We play a sport called Quidditch—a wild, fast-paced game played on broomsticks. There are goalposts, flying balls, and a tiny golden one called the Snitch. Catch it, and your team wins.”
Ella clapped a hand over her mouth in amazement. “On broomsticks?!”
“Oh yes. And we have magical sweets, too—like Chocolate Frogs that hop away if you’re not quick. And inside each one is a card of a famous witch or wizard. Some people collect them, like trading cards.”
Ella was beaming now. She was practically bouncing. “That’s my favorite part so far. No—wait. Flying. No—wands. Ugh, I can’t pick!”
Sophia laughed softly, watching her with something like fondness. “There’s so much more. Magical creatures, secret spells, enchanted libraries, hidden passageways… But you’ll learn it all, in time.”
Ella looked up at the trees, her heart racing. She felt different now. Lighter. More whole. A world she never knew she belonged to had just opened its doors.
“I want to go,” she said breathlessly. “To Hogwarts. To learn everything.”
“And you will,” Sophia said. “But for now… we wait. We learn. And we keep your secret safe.”
Ella nodded. She still wished Tim could know—but deep down, she understood.
That moment settled over them like the first snowfall—quiet, full of promise, and just a little bit magical. Ella glanced down at her worn shoes and then up at the sky, her eyes reflecting the soft morning light. The idea that there was a whole world waiting for her—a world of spells, flying broomsticks, strange creatures, and powerful potions—was almost too big to wrap her head around.
Ella looked at her, the corners of her mouth lifting into a hopeful smile. “Do you remember the first time you used magic?”
Sophia laughed, the sound light and nostalgic. “I do. I turned my brother’s hair blue during an argument. He screamed like a banshee. My parents were happy—I was thrilled.” Her eyes sparkled at the memory. “Of course, now I use my magic for far more important things. Mostly.”
Ella giggled, the sound carrying through the empty orphanage yard. It felt good to laugh, to imagine that maybe someday she’d be the one telling a younger witch her own story. “I hope I find someone like you at the new place,” she said. “Someone who helps me feel brave.”
Sophia leaned in closer, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. “You already are brave, Ella. It takes guts to step into the unknown. But don’t worry—you’re not alone. There are people out there waiting to meet you, to teach you, to challenge you. And you’ll find friends too. The kind you’ll keep for a lifetime.”
Sophia looked at her, her expression softening again. “For now,” she continued, her voice gentle but firm, “you should know that moving to a wizarding orphanage won’t be easy. It’s a different world with its own rules, its own expectations. Some kids there will have grown up around magic—they’ll already know about spells, magical creatures, and wizarding customs. You might feel behind at first.”
Ella’s smile wavered just a little, but she nodded. “But,” Sophia added, lifting Ella’s chin with a fingertip so their eyes met, “you have something just as valuable. You’ve got grit, Ella. You’ve already lived through things most kids couldn’t imagine. That kind of strength? You can’t teach that. Magic or not, it’s already inside you.”
Ella bit her bottom lip, a spark of pride igniting in her chest. She glanced back toward the orphanage. And for the first time, instead of feeling small and hidden away in the world, Ella felt like a thread being pulled toward a much greater tapestry—woven with spells, challenges, and untold wonders.
“Will I still get to see Tim before I go?” she asked quietly, the reality of leaving settling in.
Sophia hesitated for a second before nodding. “You’ll have a little time. We’ll make sure of it. But after that... things might move quickly. The Ministry likes to get muggle-borns into the magical world as soon as they’re discovered. There’s a whole team dedicated to helping you adjust, and I promise you—you won’t be alone.”
Ella nodded slowly, a bittersweet lump forming in her throat. She was leaving behind the only world she’d ever known. “Do you think they’ll like me at the new place?” she asked. “The other magical kids?”
Sophia smiled gently. “They’ll be lucky to know you. And don’t worry—even if they don’t understand your journey right away, you’ve got something special. Magic responds to emotion, to will, to the heart. And yours?” She tapped the rose. “Is stronger than you know.”
Ella’s eyes shimmered, not with sadness, but with something close to hope. “I’ll try my best,” she whispered.
Sophia smiled proudly. “That’s all anyone can ask. Just remember, the transition might feel a little like learning to ride a broomstick—bumpy at first, maybe a little scary. But once you find your balance, once you realize what you’re capable of…” she paused, her eyes twinkling, “there’s no limit to how high you can soar.”
Ella gave a slow, determined nod. “I know, I’m scared but I’m excited.”
Sophia said with a playful grin, “Now, hold your hippogriffs…”
Before she could continue, Ella furrowed her brow and tilted her head. “Wait—what’s a hippogriff?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity and just a dash of confusion.
Sophia let out a soft, amused sigh and gave her a patient smile. “It’s a magical creature. Part eagle, part horse, with massive wings and a serious attitude. Proud and noble—but you'll learn all about them when you go to Hogwarts. They teach you how to approach them properly... or else.” She gave Ella a knowing look, as if hinting at some untold story from her own school days.
Ella’s eyes widened with wonder, already imagining what such a creature might look like. But before she could fire off another question, Sophia gently raised a hand to stop her, her tone shifting to something more serious—gentle, but firm. “Being a witch,” Sophia began, “isn’t just about waving wands or catching the Golden Snitch during a Quidditch match. I know all of that sounds fun—and trust me, it can be—but magic isn’t a game. It’s powerful. It requires discipline, study, and a deep understanding of how it connects to the world around you.”
Ella’s excitement dimmed ever so slightly, replaced by a quiet attentiveness. Sophia could see that she was truly listening.
“There will be challenges,” she continued. “There will be spells you can’t master on the first try, classmates who judge you for not knowing something, and moments when everything feels overwhelming. The wizarding world can be wonderful, yes—but it can also be harsh, even isolating. People don’t always understand where you come from, or what you’ve been through. Some will make assumptions, some may even look down on you for things you can’t control.”
She paused, letting her words settle in the air before going on.
“But that’s where character matters. Magic is just a tool, Ella. A powerful one, yes—but it doesn’t define who you are. Being a good person… being kind, brave, respectful, and true to yourself—that matters just as much, if not more. Magic without empathy is dangerous. And trust me, there are plenty of powerful witches and wizards who lost their way because they forgot that.”
Ella was quiet for a moment, her eyes no longer dancing with questions, but thoughtful and serious. She looked down at her hands, then up at Sophia again, her voice soft but steady. “I’m ready,” she said. “I’ll work hard, study hard, and do whatever it takes to become the best witch I can be.”
Sophia’s heart swelled with pride. She reached out, placing a warm hand on Ella’s shoulder, her eyes shining with admiration. “That’s the spirit,” she said, her voice full of sincerity. “That right there is what makes all the difference.”
Ella’s eyes sparkled again, the fire in her chest catching hold and burning brighter. “Thank you,” she said, her voice full of emotion. “Thank you for believing in me.… especially coming from someone like you. You’re a pretty impressive witch yourself.”
Sophia chuckled at that, shaking her head with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Oh, you don’t even know the half of it! I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve that would make your head spin.” She leaned in slightly and whispered, “But I’ll save those stories for another day.” Sophia winked. “And hey—just wait until you meet your first hippogriff.”
Ella laughed, the tension melting away from her shoulders. In that moment, she felt lighter—still nervous, yes, but also more sure of herself.
For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel like something to fear.
It felt like something waiting to be discovered.
Ella's last day at the orphanage dawned with golden sunlight pouring through the windows, casting a warm glow over the familiar walls that had been her world for as long as she could remember. The scent of fresh bread from the kitchen mixed with the distant sound of laughter, and already, the air felt different—charged with both joy and the bittersweet ache of goodbye.
The day was a whirlwind of memories in the making. She spent the morning playing tag in the garden with the younger children, her laughter ringing like music through the open fields. They played hide and seek, climbed the low-hanging tree branches, and at one point, Ella even pulled out her sketchpad and drew silly portraits of each child. Everyone giggled at her wobbly depictions—too-big eyes and lopsided noses—and she promised to leave the drawings behind, taping them onto the wall near the common room so they'd always remember her.
In the afternoon, they all gathered in the reading corner—Ella’s favorite spot in the entire orphanage. She sat in the middle of a soft pile of cushions, a book open in her lap, reading aloud with animated voices and wide, expressive eyes. The children huddled around her, some leaning on her shoulder, others nestled at her side. They listened intently, their faces aglow with wonder, completely captivated by her voice.
The caretakers prepared a special tea for the occasion—jam tarts, warm scones, and her favorite lemon biscuits. Mrs. Smith stood off to the side, watching Ella with a tender gaze. She had seen this little girl arrive as a swaddled bundle of uncertainty, and now… now she was blooming into something bright and strong. The sight filled her with pride and a silent ache.
As the sun began to dip low, casting long shadows across the garden, Ella wandered outside one last time. She chased a butterfly between the lavender bushes, her arms outstretched, giggling with abandon. Her hair shimmered in the light, and for a moment, she looked almost like magic itself—alive, free, and full of possibilities.
Mrs. Smith stepped outside, watching quietly. After a moment, she called gently, “Ella.”
The little girl turned, her smile softening. She walked over, her laughter fading into a quiet calm as she sensed the weight of the moment.
Mrs. Smith knelt down, brushing a strand of hair behind Ella’s ear. “You’ve always had something special in you,” she whispered. “Don’t lose that, okay?”
Ella nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you more,” Mrs. Smith said, pulling her into a warm, lingering hug. “But I’m so proud of you. And I know… deep down, you’re meant for something extraordinary.”
The hug held for a long time, both of them not quite ready to let go. But eventually, they did. Ella wiped at her eyes and gave Mrs. Smith one final, watery smile.
She returned inside, packed her few belongings and looked around at the room that had held her dreams and her fears, her triumphs and her tears.
One by one, she hugged the other children, whispered promises to write, and gave them each a little trinket—her way of saying thank you and remember me.
Just as Ella and Sophia reached the front door, their steps echoing softly against the old wooden floors, a familiar voice called out behind them.
“Ella! Don’t forget your frog plushie!”
She turned instantly. Tim stood there in the hallway, slightly out of breath, holding the small, slightly-worn green plush in both hands. His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, and the sunlight from the window caught the edge of his cheek, revealing the shimmer of unshed tears.
Ella’s heart clenched. That frog had been with her through everything. And Tim… Tim had remembered.
Her eyes welled up. Without thinking, she ran back down the hallway, her boots thudding softly on the floor, and threw her arms around him in a tight hug. He froze for a moment, like he didn’t expect her to hug him so hard, then wrapped his arms around her just as tightly.
“Thanks, Tim,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”
He swallowed hard and gave her the smallest smile, eyes glassy but determined. “I know,” he said simply.
Then, slowly, he pulled out the small stone she had given him weeks ago—a simple gray rock with a bear drawing scratched into the surface with a dull pencil. It was meant to be silly at the time, a goofy little gift in one of their pretend games, but now it felt like a relic from another life. Something precious.
“I’ll keep this,” Tim said quietly, holding it out like it was made of glass. “Until we meet again.”
Ella’s lip quivered. “Don’t lose it, okay?”
“I won’t,” he whispered, voice small and solemn.
Sophia watched the exchange from the doorway. Her hands were folded in front of her, and though she smiled, there was a noticeable glimmer in her eyes—one she didn’t try to hide. She had seen many children come and go, but Ella… Ella was different. A little spark in a world that often felt far too dull.
She stepped forward and knelt beside them, her voice warm and gentle. “You know, Ella,” she said, brushing a tear from Ella’s cheek with the side of her hand, “you’re leaving this place with more than just a plushie. You’re carrying memories—beautiful, messy, unforgettable memories. Friendships that shaped you. Moments that made you stronger. They’ll stay with you, always.”
Ella nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She looked back at the hallway—the scribbled drawings taped to the walls, the muddy footprints that never quite got cleaned, the smell of old books and baked bread. The home that had raised her.
She turned to the living room where the other children now gathered, some waving shyly, some too choked up to speak, a few little ones already crying. And there, in that moment, the weight of goodbye finally sank in.
With her frog plushie clutched tightly to her chest and her free hand held in Sophia’s, Ella took a few steps toward the door, then stopped. She turned around one last time.
“I’ll never forget any of you,” she said, voice shaking but clear. “You’re my family. Always.”
The silence that followed was soft, sacred.
She waved through the tears clouding her vision, offering every smile, every ounce of love she had in her tiny heart, in that single moment. And then, with a deep breath, she turned back to the door, her heart full—bursting—with gratitude and sadness and hope all at once.
The door creaked open, and the world outside felt bigger than it ever had.
Sophia gently squeezed her hand. “Ready?”
Ella gave one last look over her shoulder, eyes locking with Tim’s just before she stepped outside.
“Ready,” she whispered.
And just like that, the door closed softly behind her, leaving behind a world she’d never forget—and stepping into a future waiting to be written.
She was magical.
And her story was only just beginning.
Chapter 2: Blackwood Home.
Notes:
Hello, lovely weirdos, Potterhead's and daydreamers! 🧙🏽♀️
CHAPTER 2 IS HERE!Confession time: I never name my chapters (except that one dramatic 40th chapter, oops). So if you see a lonely number, just know my brain blanked harder than a first-year in Potions class.
Writing Ella get her letter made me SO jealous. *"No I didn’t spoil anything - what were you waiting for? Of course she was going to get a letter."* (Meanwhile my owl got lost with my patience.)Hope you like this chapter. Ella’s 'new home. 🌹✨
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ella slid into the backseat of the car, clutching her frog plushie. It was an ordinary-looking car—nothing fancy, just your typical, slightly beat-up family vehicle you’d find parked outside a London suburb. The windows slightly fogged, and there was a faint rattle in the door every time the car went over a bump. But it had a cozy sort of charm to it, like an old jumper you couldn’t quite bring yourself to throw out.
From the driver’s seat, a middle-aged man gave her a cheerful glance in the mirror. His shirt was tucked awkwardly into his trousers, and his glasses kept sliding down his nose, but there was something kind and reassuring about him. The car smelled faintly of peppermint and old sweets.
The radio was crackling out a painfully catchy pop song from the Muggle charts—something about heartbreak on a dancefloor—and the driver was bobbing his head enthusiastically, clearly enjoying himself.
“Alright there?” he said with a grin, tapping the wheel. “Bit of a ride ahead, but we’ll get you there in one piece.”
Ella gave a polite nod, though her eyes were still wide from everything that had already happened that day. She wasn’t sure if she felt more nervous or excited.
The car pulled away from the Orphanage and started trundling down the street. They passed familiar rows of terraced houses and corner shops, the kind that smelled of newsprint and crisps. But then, as they turned into a narrow alleyway, the driver gave a quick glance at Sophia, who nodded ever so slightly, then flicked a small brass switch near the gearstick.
And just like that, the car lurched upwards.
Ella let out a startled squeak as she felt her stomach dip—the tires were no longer touching the ground. They were rising. Floating. Flying.
Her eyes widened as she stared out of the window. The buildings were getting smaller. The rooftops zipped past as the car glided above the narrow lane, weaving smoothly between chimneys like it had done this a hundred times before.
“OH MY GOD,” Ella breathed, clutching her plushie like it might fly off too.
The driver chuckled, barely glancing away from the road—or sky, “Sorry, couldn’t resist. Bit of a shortcut.”
Sophia burst out laughing beside her, clearly enjoying the moment far too much. She reached over and patted Ella’s shoulder with a fond grin. “You’ll get used to this sort of thing soon enough. Welcome to the wizarding world.”
Ella gave a shaky laugh, the corners of her mouth twitching upward despite her nerves. “I’m not sure I’m ready for flying,” she said, her voice wobbling. “I mean… I’ve never even been on a broomstick. I’d probably end up backwards or upside down.” The image of herself flailing around on a broomstick was both comical and frightening.
Sophia smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. Most of us did at first. You'll get the hang of it—or at least learn to fall with a bit of style.”
Ella looked back out the window again, watching as the clouds brushed past the car like smoke. Her heart was still thumping, but there was something exhilarating about it all. She wasn’t just leaving the orphanage—she was leaving the ordinary behind.
For the first time, it truly felt like magic was real.
Finally, the car turned onto a narrow, tree-lined lane. The branches arched overhead, forming a kind of natural tunnel that filtered the late afternoon light into soft gold. As they approached the end of the road, the car began to slow, tires crunching over gravel.
And there it was.
The orphanage stood like something out of an old storybook—large, weathered, with its stone walls stained dark by years of rain and ivy creeping along every surface. It didn’t look welcoming—more like the sort of building that kept its secrets locked behind iron bars. Ella leaned forward, taking it all in, stared at it in silence, her chest tight.
She took a deep breath and turned to Sophia, who smiled gently at her. Without a word, Ella wrapped her arms around her tightly. Sophia pulled her in for a long, warm hug.
"I really hope you find a new family here, in this new life," Sophia said, her voice thick with feeling. "I’ll always remember you—you’re a hard one to forget with all the chaos you caused." Her laugh was soft and fond.
Ella gave a wobbly smile, her eyes brimming with tears. “I wasn’t that bad,” she whispered.
Sophia knelt in front of her and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind Ella’s ear. “I still don’t know why your hair never grows past your chin,” she teased with a chuckle.
Ella sniffled and wiped at her cheek. “Maybe because I talk to it,” she replied, trying to lighten the mood. “Told it I liked it short.”
Sophia laughed, shaking her head. “I guess that explains it. You are a witch, after all right?”
She paused, her expression softening. “If you ever need anything, Ella—anything at all—don’t hesitate to reach out. Muggle or wizard, I’ll always be here.”
Ella flung her arms around her once more in a final embrace. Then Sophia stood, gave her one last reassuring smile, and got back into the car. The engine hummed quietly as the vehicle reversed slowly down the path, until it disappeared around the bend.
And Ella stood there.
Her face was a delicate blend of worry and hope, with her bags resting at her feet. She looked up at the orphanage gates. They towered above her, old iron worn to rust, their decorative scrollwork twisted into strange patterns that felt more like wards than decoration. They creaked slowly open as if reluctant to let anyone in, the sound grating over the quiet gravel path. The air here felt colder, and not just because of the shade from the trees.
Still, she moved forward.
Ella stepped forward, each step crunching softly beneath her shoes. The gravel path led her through an overgrown garden that might have been beautiful once, and up the stone steps to the front door. The walk to the door felt longer than it should have. As she reached for the old brass knocker, the heavy wooden door opened before she could touch it.
Standing in the doorway was a woman with long grey hair twisted into a loose plait, her warm smile crinkling the corners of her kind eyes. Her clothes were simple, a knitted cardigan buttoned to the top and a tea-stained apron tied around her middle.
“Welcome to the orphanage,” she said in a gentle, plain tone. “I’m Ms. Potts, the housemother. Come inside, dear.”
Ella gave a small nod, clutching her bag tightly as she stepped past the threshold. The door closed quietly behind her.
She had expected the new orphanage to feel warm, maybe even cozy—like her old one. She had imagined soft carpets, worn wooden furniture, the distant sound of children laughing or a kettle boiling somewhere.
But instead, the air was cold. The kind of cold that sank past her skin.
The foyer was sterile and bare. The white walls were empty, the light dim and flat. The floor beneath her feet was made of hard tiles that echoed dully with every step. There were no toys. No books. No sign that children actually lived here. A quiet dread curled in her chest.
Ms. Potts gave her a small smile and began walking, her steps soft and steady as she led Ella through the foyer and into a long hallway. Ella followed, her hand tightening on the strap of her bag.
The hallway stretched endlessly forward, its walls made of cold, uneven stone. Moisture clung to the surface, and the scent of damp earth clung to the air. The stone floor was worn smooth by time, and Ella could hear the hollow sound of her footsteps echoing with every move she made. It was like walking into the belly of something ancient—and asleep.
As they reached the end of the corridor, they turned a corner. A steep staircase climbed upward, narrow and winding like the spine of the house itself. At the top, another hallway stretched out—long, gray, and silent.
Each door they passed was the same shade of lifeless gray as the walls, each one closed tight, no names or signs, nothing to distinguish one from the next. They could’ve been closets or broom cupboards for all Ella knew.
Still, Ms. Potts walked with quiet purpose, and Ella followed, the weight in her stomach growing heavier with every step.
Finally, the woman stopped at the very end of the hall and turned to her.
“This is your room,” she said gently. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here.” She opened the door with a quiet creak, and Ella stepped inside.
The room was small and bare. A narrow bed sat in one corner, its quilt neatly tucked but frayed at the edges. Across from it stood a simple dresser, its wood scarred with age, and a small desk, its surface empty save for a thin layer of dust. There was no rug or carpet—only floorboards that creaked underfoot.
The only touch of softness came from the arched window, its curtains faded and billowing in the breeze. Ella stepped closer, brushing a hand against the fabric.The window looked like it belonged to a much older world.
Outside, the garden stretched wild and untamed. Clusters of wildflowers grew where they pleased, their petals faded and bent. Trees stood twisted and bowed, like old friends huddled together in secret conversation. The grass was patchy and brittle, and yet, in the middle of it all, a stone fountain babbled cheerfully, the water dancing and splashing as if unaware of the rest.
Despite the wear and neglect, there was a strange kind of majesty to it all. Like a forgotten painting waiting to be noticed again.
Ella took it in quietly, her heart sinking just a little. This wasn’t home. Not yet.
“Thank you, ma’am,” she said softly, doing her best to mask the disappointment in her voice.
She turned to Ms. Potts, trying to sound casual. “Will I be the only one living here?”
Ms. Potts smiled kindly. “Yes, dear. This is your room—all to yourself.”
Ella hesitated, then asked the question that had been creeping into her mind ever since she stepped inside. “Excuse me, Ms. Potts… but where are the other children?”
“The older ones are all at Hogwarts,” she replied gently. “The younger ones are in the dining hall—ages three to six. It’s lunchtime, my dear.”
Ella nodded, unsure how she felt about that. Silence settled for a moment, filled only by the faint whistle of the wind through the window.
As they strolled down the dim hallway, Ella glanced up at Ms. Potts.
“So, where’s the kitchen around here? And… can I cook or bake sometimes?”
Ms. Potts gave a soft, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Ella. The kitchen is down in the basement, but the house elves don’t like to be bothered by children. They prefer their routines.”
Ella’s face fell a little, though she nodded politely.
“But,” Ms. Potts added quickly, “you’re welcome to use the library. You can borrow any book you like.”
That didn’t quite fill the space where flour, sugar, and the warmth of a baking oven used to live. But Ella forced a small smile. “Okay. Thanks.”
When they reached the dining hall, the change in energy was immediate. The room was plain and functional—no decoration, no color. Just rows of long wooden tables and benches, lit by cold fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. The walls were a sterile white, and the scent of food hung faintly in the air, neither comforting nor inviting.
Plates of simple, nutritious meals were set out, but the children ate in silence. No laughter, no chatter. Only the soft clink of cutlery and the occasional rustle of movement.
Ella sat down stiffly, anxiety creeping in as she stared at the bland food on her plate—overcooked vegetables, a plain roll, something that might’ve once been stew. She missed the noisy, messy, joyful chaos of mealtimes at her old orphanage. Here, everything felt distant and muted.
Trying to push down the ache in her chest, Ella leaned toward the children beside her and offered a shy smile.
“Hi. I’m Ella,” she whispered.
They nodded politely, but their eyes didn’t linger. No questions. No curiosity. Just quiet, reserved kids used to being cautious. Ella couldn’t blame them—but it still hurt.
The adults stood along the edges of the room, stiff-backed and watchful. They only spoke when necessary, their voices clipped and formal, correcting posture or silencing whispers. The whole thing felt more like a school cafeteria than a home.
By the time the last spoon scraped a plate and the children began to rise, Ella sat frozen, her appetite gone and her heart heavy.
Would she ever feel like she belonged here?
The others filed out of the dining hall in neat lines, and Ella stood up slowly, trailing behind. The orphanage was supposed to be a new beginning, a magical one but so far, it only felt like an end.
Ella wandered through the quiet hallways, her shoes tapping softly against the stone floors. She had no particular destination in mind—just a vague need to understand this new place that felt nothing like home.
She paused now and then, peeking into classrooms with desks lined in rigid rows, each one spotless and void of life, as if waiting for students who would never arrive. The chalkboards were wiped clean, the bookshelves nearly empty. She slipped past open office doors that revealed neat desks, stiff chairs, and shelves that held only a few sparse folders or decorative items that added nothing to the space. There were no photos. No mugs with names. No signs of anyone who loved the place enough to leave a mark behind.
Then, by chance, Ella found herself standing before a pair of tall, wooden double doors. They creaked softly when she nudged one open. Inside was a vast ballroom—a forgotten relic of some bygone era. Dust clung to every surface, dancing lazily in the shafts of light that filtered through stained-glass windows high above. A chandelier hung precariously from the ceiling, its crystals dulled by years of neglect. The wooden floor, though scuffed and faded, hinted at elegance once known. Ella imagined the sound of music that might have once echoed here, the laughter, the rustle of dresses, and the spin of shoes across polished wood. She wished if she can dance in a place like this one day.
She didn’t linger there. Something about the stillness of the ballroom felt too hollow, too large for just one girl to stand in. Instead, she continued wandering, her hand trailing along the stone walls, fingers brushing over cold iron sconces and faded portraits. She climbed a narrow staircase she hadn’t noticed before, and with each creaky step, the air seemed to shift—lighter, almost expectant.
The top floor was quieter still. The hallway here was narrower, older, and the floorboards groaned under her weight. The walls bore old wallpaper, peeling at the corners, patterned with vines faded almost to invisibility. At the end of the corridor was a single wooden door, unremarkable save for the small, brass sign screwed crookedly into the wood.
Library, it read—faded, scratched, nearly forgotten.
Ella reached out and turned the handle. The door opened with a soft groan, revealing something completely different from the rest of the orphanage.
The scent of old paper, the room was lit by tall, arched windows that spilled soft golden light across the floors. Dust motes floated like tiny dancers in the beams. Rows upon rows of tall bookshelves stretched toward the ceiling, their dark wood warm and inviting. In the middle of the room were long wooden tables surrounded by mismatched chairs, their surfaces bearing ink stains and the occasional carved initials from some past visitor. No librarian sat at a desk. No voices to scolde her for touching. The space was hers to discover.
Ella stepped inside with reverence, the quiet here deeper, but comforting. She wandered through the shelves, her fingertips trailing gently along the spines of the books. Some were neatly labeled, others had faded titles or none at all. She read the names softly to herself, letting them form strange pictures in her mind.
The Secrets of Potions.
A Guide to Magical Creatures.
Defensive Spells for Beginners.
Herbology Through the Ages.
The Enchanted Forest and Other Fables.
Her fingers stopped on a large, weathered volume bound in cracked leather—The History of the Wizarding World. She pulled it from the shelf, grunting a little under its weight, and carried it over to one of the reading tables. She sat down, the wooden chair creaking slightly beneath her, and opened the book to its first page.
The words leapt out at her, rich with magic, mystery, and stories long forgotten by the world beyond. She read about ancient spells cast by long-gone wizards, about enchanted cities that had once floated above mountains, about witches who rode the northern winds and creatures that shimmered into the mist. The book was filled with illustrations, their ink slightly smudged by time—maps, sigils, figures with cloaks that billowed as if caught in eternal wind.
For the first time since arriving, Ella felt a flicker of something other than dread—wonder.
She didn’t notice the time slipping past until the sharp ring of the dinner bell echoed through the orphanage. It was a distant, metallic sound, jarring against the peaceful quiet of the library.
Reluctantly, Ella closed the heavy book and traced her fingers along the cover one last time before returning it to the shelf. As she stepped out of the library, the hallway seemed darker somehow, the enchantment of that hidden sanctuary fading behind her.
She walked back toward the dining hall slowly, her footsteps lonely and echoing again through the empty corridors. When she entered, the air was thick with the quiet routine of dinner. The lights were dimmer than they had been at lunch, casting soft shadows on the pale walls. The children sat in near silence, their expressions unchanged, and their eyes downcast. The food was the same—simple, bland, nourishing. Not comforting.
Ella sat down and picked at her food. But her mind wasn’t here anymore. It was still in that library, drifting through pages of legends and magical lands. She imagined herself in the robes of an ancient sorceress, her wand glowing in the dark, standing atop a cliff where the wind whispered secrets in forgotten tongues.
Around her, the others ate without speaking. They seemed to belong to a different world entirely—But Ella… Ella had found something.
When the meal was over, she stood and slipped away without a word, her eyes already seeking the staircase that would lead her back to her room. The halls were even quieter now, as the day sank fully into evening. Lamps flickered dimly in their sconces, and her shadow stretched long across the stone floor.
Back in her room, she closed the door behind her and stood in the center, surrounded by silence.
Ella changed into her soft pajamas. They were a faded shade of pink, she climbed into her small bed, the thin mattress barely cushioning the hard frame beneath it She snuggled into the worn sheets that smelled faintly of lavender and old laundry soap, pulling the blanket up to her chin. In her arms, she hugged her beloved frog plushie,
The walls around her were plain, painted a tired beige that seemed to suck the color out of the room, but Ella didn’t mind. It was peaceful here, it was hers—her corner of the world. And tonight, she drifted to sleep thinking of ancient forests, wise witches, and enchanted gardens that only bloomed in moonlight.
The first light of dawn crept through Ella’s window, painting the bare walls in soft gold. She stirred, blinking against the gentle glow, and for a moment, she simply lay there, listening to the distant chirping of birds outside. The orphanage was still quiet—most of the children wouldn’t be awake for another hour. With a small stretch, she pushed back the thin blanket and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her feet met the cool floor, and she wiggled her toes before standing.
Her frog plushie, sat propped against her pillow. She gave it a fond pat before changing into her day clothes—plain dress and boots, Ella headed down to breakfast. The smell of toast, eggs, and porridge met her in the hallway, and her stomach grumbled in response. She passed through the dining hall quickly, grabbing a small plate of food—just enough to tide her over—and ate in silence like the rest of the children. There were no lively conversations here, no cheerful morning chatter. Just quiet clinking of cutlery and the low hum of a new day beginning.
But Ella didn’t linger. Her heart was already in the library.
She slipped away as soon as she finished eating, making her way back to the top floor, where the library waited like an old friend. When she opened the door, the familiar smell of old parchment, leather, and wood welcomed her. The morning light streamed through the tall windows, casting golden puddles across the floor. The room was still mostly empty—just the way she liked it.
Ella returned to her usual spot, nestled between two shelves with a perfect view of the windows and a long wooden table where she had left a few books the day before. She pulled out The History of the Wizarding World again and cracked it open. The weight of the book in her lap, the creak of the chair beneath her, the hush of the room—it all felt like slipping into another world.
As the words flowed before her eyes, her mind began to drift. She wasn’t just reading about magical forests anymore—she was walking through them. The trees whispered secrets above her head. Creatures moved silently in the shadows. She imagined gardens that glowed under moonlight, vines that hummed with enchantments, flowers that opened only for those who spoke kindly to them.
Books had always been her escape—but now, they were becoming something more. They were giving her ideas.
It was during one quiet afternoon in the library, while reading about ancient herbology practices, that Ella had a thought so clear it nearly made her sit upright: What if the garden here could come alive again?
The orphanage had a garden, yes, but it was neglected—a patch of dirt and dying hedges, a few struggling plants trying to survive in the cracked earth. Most of the children ignored it. The elves didn’t tend to it, and the adults never spoke of it. But Ella saw something different when she looked at it. She saw potential. She saw peace.
And just like that, she decided.
She would make it her mission—her quiet, personal quest—to bring life back to that forgotten garden. If she could create something beautiful there, something thriving, then maybe… maybe she could make this place feel like more than just walls and rules and silence.
That afternoon, instead of returning to the library after lunch, Ella found herself standing at the edge of the garden. The wind tousled her hair as she surveyed the scene—the patchy grass, the wilting flowers, the gnarled trees. The fountain still bubbled cheerfully, but the rest of the space felt… tired.
She crouched down, brushing her fingers over a cluster of wildflower. "You just need a little help, don’t you?" she murmured.
She marched back inside, her steps purposeful, and nearly collided with Ms. Potts in the hallway.
"Ella, dear! You’re in a hurry," the woman remarked, adjusting her glasses.
Ella took a deep breath. "Ms. Potts, I—I want to fix the garden."
The housemother blinked. "Fix it?"
"Yes. Properly. With new plants and flowers. Maybe even herbs or vegetables. It could be beautiful again." Ella’s voice wavered slightly, but her resolve didn’t.
Ms. Potts studied her for a long moment, then smiled—a rare, warm expression. "Well. I suppose it has been neglected. And if it keeps you busy…Make me a list of what you’ll need. Seeds, tools, whatever. I’ll see what I can do."
Ella’s heart leaped. "Really?"
"Really." Ms. Potts gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
The next morning, a package waited for Ella on her desk. Inside were packets of seeds (lavender, sunflowers, sage), a trowel, a pair of gardening gloves, and a note in Ms. Potts’ neat handwriting:
"Make it grow."
Ella clutched the seeds to her chest, grinning.
She stepped into the garden with purpose. The ground was hard, dry in places, and tangled with weeds in others, but Ella saw the future. She knelt in the dirt, sleeves rolled up, and began pulling weeds by hand, for the first time in a long while, she felt alive.
Day by day, she cleared a little more. Ms. Pott kept her word—her left new gloves, trowels, and small bags of soil amendments in the shed for her. Sometimes she’d find a crate of new seeds left near the door without a note. Just there, waiting, like quiet encouragement.
She divided her time between the library and the garden. In the morning, she read about herbs and magical plant lore. In the afternoon, she planted—lavender, chamomile, peppermint, moonflowers, and creeping vines that she hoped would climb the broken trellis. She whispered to the seedlings as she placed them in the soil, offering gentle words and water and hope.
Slowly, the garden began to change. Shoots of green peeked from the earth. Buds formed. Colors returned. Butterflies hovered over wildflowers she hadn’t even meant to grow. Birds began to visit again.
The garden was becoming something more than a patch of land—it was a living, breathing thing.
She didn’t need an audience. She didn’t need applause. The quiet was enough. The satisfaction of coaxing life from dry ground, the thrill of seeing something grow because she had cared for it—that was the magic.
And in those long, quiet days between pages and petals, Ella finally began to bloom too.
Ella’s sleep was never predictable. It was a quiet gamble she played every night as she climbed into bed—hoping, sometimes even pleading in silence, for a peaceful night. There were times when sleep embraced her gently, like a mother’s lullaby. On those rare nights, she would sleep soundly, with nothing but silence in her mind and softness in her chest. But more often than not, sleep came with claws. The nightmares would slip into her mind like smoke through cracks, creeping slowly until they swallowed her whole.
On those nights, she would jolt awake in a cold sweat, her heart pounding, breath shaky and shallow. The room, already dim and quiet, would suddenly feel like a trap. Shadows clung to the walls like ghosts, and the silence would be deafening. She would sit up slowly, arms wrapped tightly around her plush frog, pressing it against her chest like it was the only thing anchoring her to the world. And in some ways, it was.
It wasn’t just the fear that made these nights so unbearable—it was something else. Something heavier. In her dreams, she saw faces she had never met. Yet… she knew them. She felt them. There was an ache in her chest when she woke up, a deep, crushing sense of loss.
Who were they?
She had asked Mrs. Smith once, hesitantly, if there were any pictures of her parents. She gave her a pitying look and said no.
“You came to us very young, Ella. There was nothing left with you but your name.”
Nothing left.
That was the truth of it, wasn’t it? There was nothing. No answers. No clues.
Not the kind of loss that comes from losing a toy or misplacing a book. No—this was kind of loss that made her ribs feel like they were folding in on themselves. It made her want to cry, not out of fear, but out of longing. Every time she blinked back into the waking world, it felt like something was missing from her—but she didn’t know what.
And the worst part? That feeling didn’t fade.
Every night, it grew a little heavier. A little more unbearable. Like a stone sitting on her chest, pressing down slowly but surely. As if her soul was mourning something her mind couldn’t remember. And when she tried to speak about it, to even put it into words in her head, it all crumbled into silence.
So instead, she turned to the only comfort she had left—the stars.
After every nightmare, Ella would pull her thin blanket tighter around her shoulders and shuffle to the window. She’d open the creaky pane just enough to let the cold night air brush against her skin, and then she would look up.
The stars never left her. They didn’t whisper or judge or turn away. They just were. Scattered across the sky like specks of light in an endless black sea. Some brighter than others, some dim and flickering, but all of them steady. She would count them, whispering the numbers softly under her breath, her fingers gently tracing the shape of each one against the cold glass. One... two... three...
With every number, her heartbeat slowed a little. Her breathing steadied. She’d imagine herself floating among them, away from the shadows in her room, far from the memory of her dream or the faces twisted in sorrow. She’d picture herself surrounded by soft light, drifting in a place where nothing could reach her. Where the sadness wasn’t so loud, and the weight in her chest didn’t feel like it would crush her from the inside.
Sometimes, she’d whisper to the stars. Little secrets. Wishes she wouldn’t dare say aloud during the day.
“I just want to feel okay,” she whispered one night, her voice barely audible. “Just once.”
The frog plushie rested in her lap as always, its button eyes staring back at her with a kind of quiet loyalty. She pressed her face into its head, and for a few seconds, let herself cry—silent tears, slipping down her cheeks as quietly as the dreams that haunted her.
Then, she’d crawl back into bed.
The sheets were always cold at first, but they warmed quickly beneath her. She’d bury herself beneath them, her face half-hidden against her plushie, and let her imagination take over. She’d picture the stars again—only this time, she was floating among them like stardust. Warm, glowing, weightless. Nothing could hurt her there. Not the dreams. Not the loneliness. Not even the memories she couldn’t name.
And slowly, very slowly, sleep would return, because there was always the smallest flicker of hope that maybe—maybe—tomorrow would be better.
Birthdays weren’t really celebrated at the orphanage.
There were no candles to blow out, no wrapped gifts waiting, and no chorus of voices singing her name. But Ella never minded too much. She had long ago learned how to create her own kind of magic. Each year, on her birthday, she would find a quiet corner beneath the stars—behind the garden shed or perched on the old stone bench beneath the willow—and she would make a wish on the very first star that blinked into view.
She’d save a cookie or steal a small slice of bread, pretending it was cake, and she’d blow the crumbs into the air as though they were birthday candles. Watching them scatter like stardust always made her smile.
That morning, the sun poured in gently through the smudged windowpanes of her room, casting golden light across the wooden floor. Ella stirred beneath her thin blanket, her plush frog curled close against her chest, and slowly opened her eyes.
She blinked at the soft morning glow, then reached up to rub the sleep from her lashes. As she shifted, she felt it. Something crinkled beneath her pillow. Frowning, she reached under and her pillow.
There, tucked neatly beneath it, was a crisp, cream-colored envelope. It was thick, smooth, and elegant—unlike anything that usually made its way into the orphanage. Her name was written in a beautiful, looping hand across the front in deep emerald-green ink:
Miss Ella Celestine
second floor
Blackwood Home
Her breath hitched.
She stared at the envelope, heart suddenly pounding. Carefully, almost reverently, she picked it up, turning it over in her hands. Sealed in deep red wax was an emblem—a majestic “H” surrounded by four tiny creatures: a lion, a snake, a badger, and a raven.
With trembling fingers, she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment inside.
Dear Miss Ella,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1.
She gasped.
The letter fluttered slightly in her hands as she read it again, and then again—eyes growing wider each time. She felt her mouth fall open, her heart thundering in her chest as the realization washed over her like a wave of golden light.
Hogwarts. A real school. A magical school.
She let out a breathless squeal, almost choking on a laugh, then jumped up from her bed with an energy she had never known before. She bounced on the spot, hugging the letter to her chest, spinning in a little circle as if the joy couldn’t possibly stay still in her body. Her frog plushie fell to the floor, and she scooped it up mid-spin, clutching it close and whispering, “We’re going to Hogwarts! Can you believe it? We’re really going!”
In all the years she’d watched the other children get packages, or visits from Hogwarts, she was counting the days to be with them, Magic was something she dreamed about everyday—fairy tales she made up to help her sleep. But now, it was real.
She was going.
Her fingers traced over the words again, afraid that if she blinked too long, they’d vanish. The crest. The ink. The beautiful, strange language tucked in the fine print.
And just like that, her mind flooded with questions. What would it look like? Would there be other kids like her? What kind of magic would she learn? Could she make flowers bloom with a flick of her hand? Would she be good at riding brooms? Was there a library filled with secret books? She didn’t know—but she would. She would know everything.
Later that evening, just as the sun began to dip behind the trees and the first stars poked through the fading sky, Ella found her usual spot beside the willow tree in the garden. The letter was tucked safely inside her cardigan pocket, folded and unfolded so many times now that the edges had gone soft. She sat with her knees to her chest, and looked up at the sky.
She found the first star.
“Please,” she whispered, “let this really be my chance.”
She didn’t need a cookie that night. Her wish had already come true. Instead, she closed her eyes and blew softly into the night air, sending a silent thank-you to whatever force had finally decided she was worthy of something wonderful.
Ella Celestine—age eleven. Future witch.
Notes:
"so do you think you will be able to live like that for what two years?"
Bold of you to assume I can live like that for two hours. My spoiled 21st century ass would...but I guess its worth it if I can go to Hogwarts right?"Anyway who is exited to go shopping in Diagon Alley !!!!!!"
Sponsored by:
97509023 failed attempts to spell 'Diagon' correctly"RANDOM CHAPTER QUESTION: Which Hogwarts House Would Survive a Zombie Apocalypse?
Let's be real - Gryffindor would die first because they'd charge in immediately without thinking and get eaten from pure recklessness. Ravenclaw would overanalyze the situation so hard that they'd waste all their time theorizing and get bitten without even noticing.
Now Hufflepuff? I think they'd actually survive pretty well after watching how Gryffindor and Ravenclaw messed up. But Slytherin - my house - would obviously survive the longest. You know why? Because we don't joke about our own safety. We'd be out of there immediately with a solid escape plan.
Though honestly, we might take some Hufflepuffs with us - one of my best friends is a Hufflepuff, and they're harmless in their own way. Plus they're probably good at finding snacks during the apocalypse.
This concludes today's lesson in survival.
Class dismissed.With love, chaos, and and a questionable amount of daydreaming.
– [Elaf Mohammed/Buttercow]
Chapter 3: Diagon Alley.
Notes:
Hello, lovely weirdos, Potterheads and daydreamers! 🧙🏽♀️
CHAPTER 3 IS HERE!
Repeat after me: "Creative chapter titles are overrated."
(Seriously, I didn't name any chapter before, except that one dramatic 40th chapter.)Let’s address the hippogriff in the room: Yes, I’m still jealous of Ella.
(And you’ll be jealous too when the time comes – trust me, you’ll know.)Okay, real talk—I don’t have an update schedule because I’m a moody girl who might drop three chapters in a week and then vanish for a month like a ghost with commitment issues.. wait, no, I won't do that. I need to learn some discipline!
I'll try my best to stick to something resembling a schedule for your sake. (yes, YOU, my beloved weirdos), I’ll try to pretend I know what ‘discipline’ means and not procrastinate like my life depends on it (it does).are you guys actually going to let me get my life straight and stop being moody and procrastinating like always? (Don't answer that.)" anyway enough talking.
Hope you like this chapter.🌹
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
For days after receiving her letter, Ella existed in a daze of restless excitement. The orphanage’s dull routines—the meals in the quiet dining hall, the hours spent reading in the library, the evenings tending to her little garden—all blurred into the background of her mind. Because now, every thought, every heartbeat, was consumed by one glorious certainty:
She was going to Hogwarts.
Ella floated through the orphanage in a dreamy haze. Every morning she woke with a flutter in her chest, heart racing with the excitement of everything that lay ahead. She’d tucked the letter under her pillow again, unable to bear the thought of it being lost or taken, and each night she read it once more by the dim glow of her bedside lamp. The words never lost their spark. Every time her eyes landed on “We are pleased to inform you…” her breath caught like it had the very first time.
Ella couldn’t stop imagining what Hogwarts would be like.
She had read about it endlessly in the few books she managed to find in the library—old, faded copies about the history of magic and tales passed down by wizard families. Still, she pieced together a vision in her mind: a grand, ancient castle with endless staircases that moved of their own accord, portraits that spoke, a ceiling in the Great Hall that changed with the sky. She imagined warm fires crackling in cozy common rooms, secret passageways hidden behind stone walls, and classes that taught real spells—actual magic that she could wield.
She was especially enchanted by the idea of Houses. Four different Houses, each with their own personality, each filled with students who shared something important in common. She learned their names by heart, every day, she wondered which one she’d be sorted into.
Gryffindor, with its daring and courage—its scarlet banners rippling in the Great Hall. Would she be brave enough to belong there? Hufflepuff, warm and loyal, where kindness mattered more than anything. She liked the idea of that—a house that felt like sunlight.
Ravenclaw, with its towering library and wit-sharpened students. Ella’s fingers itched at the thought of all those books, all that knowledge waiting for her. Slytherin, cunning and ambitious. She wasn’t sure about the whispers of dark wizards, but the idea of a house that chose its own path intrigued her.
"What if it doesn’t pick me at all?" she wondered once, her stomach twisting. But then she shook her head fiercely. No. The letter had come for her. Magic had chosen her.
She liked the idea of belonging somewhere—not just by name, but by heart. A real family. A place where she wouldn’t be just “the orphan girl.” A place where her magic could finally grow.
Ella would often sit by the window with her frog plushie in her lap, eyes gazing out at the clouds. She imagined herself in a black robe, wand in hand, walking through stone corridors lit by floating torches.
She pictured sitting in a classroom filled with bubbling cauldrons, or feathered quills that moved on their own, or spellbooks so old their pages whispered when turned.
The library at Hogwarts was something she thought of often. It made her heart race just thinking about it. Endless shelves. Towering bookcases. Rows upon rows of magical knowledge waiting to be discovered. Would she get to learn about magical creatures? Potions? The stars and the secrets they held? She imagined herself curled up in a quiet corner, the soft rustle of pages around her, learning everything there was to know about magic.
And then there was Quidditch.
Ella had never seen a broomstick fly, not in real life, but she imagined it so vividly—sweeping through the sky, robes flapping in the wind, players darting and diving like birds in flight. She remember Sophia’s words, she saw herself sitting high in the stands, cheering with the crowd, heart pounding as the players zoomed past. Would she learn to fly too? Would she be brave enough to try and stop being afraid of it?
She dreamed of making friends—real friends. People who wouldn't look at her like she was different or strange. She pictured late-night talks in the common room, laughing until her sides hurt, passing notes during class, sharing chocolate and secrets beneath enchanted ceilings.
She would finally be surrounded by others like her. Magical kids. Kids who didn’t think reading for hours was boring, or that planting flowers in silence was odd. Kids who might just understand.
The orphanage staff noticed a change in her, though no one quite knew why. She smiled more. She moved with purpose. Sometimes, she would hum little tunes to herself while sweeping the hallways or tending to the garden. But mostly, she daydreamed.
One afternoon, while lying on the patch of grass by the garden, she whispered to her frog plushie, “I’m going to be so happy there. I just know it.”
She clutched the soft toy to her chest and looked up at the clouds, imagining the spires of Hogwarts poking through the mist. She could almost hear the clang of bells, the laughter of students, the echo of footsteps on stone. It felt close—so close, as if it were already waiting for her.
And though she didn’t know exactly what awaited her, she believed something deep in her bones:
Hogwarts would change everything.
One quiet morning, just as the sun had begun to paint the sky with soft strokes of gold, a gentle knock came at Ella’s door. She had been curled up on her bed, legs tucked beneath her, lost in the pages of a book about magical creatures she had borrowed yet again from the orphanage’s library. The knock startled her—no one visited her room, and certainly not this early.
She jumped up and padded barefoot across the floor to open the door. Standing there, with her ever-practical gray bun, was Ms. Potts. Ella blinked up at her, heart thumping with curiosity.
“Good morning, Ella,” Ms. Potts said, a rare smile dancing at the corners of her lips. “I’m here to tell you that tomorrow, you’ll be going to Diagon Alley. Ms. Jones will be accompanying you. She’ll help you get everything you need for your first year at Hogwarts.”
There was a beat of silence as Ella processed the words—and then her mouth dropped open.
Diagon Alley.
She had heard of it before by Sophia had spoken of it like a dream, a hidden place full of color and wonder, where nothing was quite like the Muggle world Ella had clung to every word of it. Shops where cauldrons stacked to the ceilings shimmered with enchantments, owls perched in cages that blinked with golden eyes, piles of spellbooks, robes that fitted themselves, and—most magical of all—a shop where you could find your wand.
Now, she was going. Tomorrow.
Ella’s heart leapt so high it almost hurt. “I’m really going?” she whispered, just to be sure.
“You are,” Ms. Potts replied with a nod. “Be ready early in the morning. Wear something warm—it might be a bit chilly in London.”
Ella nodded quickly, barely able to contain her grin. She closed the door gently once Ms. Potts left, and then let out the most joyous, breathless little squeal. She clutched her plushie tight and spun around in her room, the worn floorboards creaking beneath her. “We’re going to Diagon Alley!” she whispered to it, as if it were alive.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. She tried to read, but the words on the page danced away from her eyes. She tried to tidy her room, but kept getting distracted by thoughts of what shops she would see. She imagined herself stepping into a robe shop, she imagined herself holding different wands, waiting for that one perfect moment—the one where the wand chose her.
That night, Ella couldn’t sleep.
She tossed and turned under the thin covers of her bed, eyes wide open. Her plushie was tucked beneath her chin, as always, and she held it close as if it could absorb all her excitement. Her mind raced like a train with no brakes, chugging through thoughts and questions.
What would the wand shop look like? Would it be dusty and old ? What if she got a wand made of something rare—unicorn hair, or phoenix feather? Would her robes be? Would they feel heavy or light? Would she get to pet a magical creature, or maybe see someone cast a spell in the middle of the street?
Every time she closed her eyes, another picture came to life in her mind. She imagined Ms. Jones leading her through a secret doorway in the back of a shop. Sophia had said you couldn’t see Diagon Alley unless you knew where to look. Would it be behind a brick wall? Or a hidden alleyway between two buildings?
At some point in the night, she turned to face the window, the moon casting soft silver light across her pillow. She counted the stars, just as she always did. “I’m going to get my wand tomorrow,” she whispered, eyes shining. “I’m going to see magic with my own eyes.”
And slowly, as the stars blinked down at her from above and the excitement finally softened into a warm hum in her chest, she drifted off to sleep.
In her dreams, she was already there. Diagon Alley stretched out before her like a storybook come to life, each step another page turning. The shops glowed, the people laughed, and she stood in the center of it all with a wand in her hand and magic in her heart.
When Ella woke up the next morning, the thrill that had kept her awake all night had been replaced by something quieter, deeper. A soft, fluttering nervousness had settled in her chest. She stared up at the ceiling for a moment, and whispered to herself, “It’s today.”
Sliding out of bed, she moved slowly, her heart beating just a little faster than usual. Her fingers trembled slightly as she buttoned her sweater, and she had to redo her shoelaces three times before she got them right. The breakfast hall at the orphanage was quiet as always, but her thoughts were loud—spinning and tumbling over each other in her head. She barely tasted the toast on her plate.
Ms. Jones was waiting for her at the front steps by the time she finished. The woman gave her a small nod and said, “Are you ready, Ella?” Ella looked up at her, eyes wide, and gave a little nod of her own as they stepped outside.
The sun was shining, bright and bold, casting long shadows across the pavement. The air held the freshness of early morning—cool and crisp with the faintest scent of blooming flowers. Ella took a breath, deep and slow. With every step beside Ms. Jones, the knot in her chest began to unravel, slowly replaced by a warm, fizzy feeling that made her feel—if only for a moment—like anything was possible.
As they made their way toward the Leaky Cauldron, the city began to shift around them. Ella could feel the magic even before she saw it—like a hum in the air, just beneath the surface of everything. People walked past them who looked a little too strange to be normal—someone in a long cloak, a cat peeking out of a coat, a woman whose hat seemed to shimmer when the sunlight hit it.
And then, there it was.
The Leaky Cauldron.
A small, slightly dingy-looking pub wedged between a bookstore and a record shop. It was easy to miss if you didn’t know where to look.
Her heart thudded wildly. This is it, she thought. This is real.
Ms. Jones pushed open the wooden door, and a burst of warmth and noise greeted them. The pub was full of life—witches and wizards sat at small wooden tables, some hunched over cups of Butterbeer, others laughing as they chatted. The air smelled of roasted nuts, firewood, and something sweet Ella couldn’t name. There were candles floating above the bar, and a dusty old portrait near the ceiling snored lightly in its frame.
Ella stared, wide-eyed, as they passed through. It felt like walking into a dream—one she never wanted to wake from.
Ms. Jones led her to the back of the pub where there was nothing but an old brick wall. Ella blinked, confused, until Ms. Jones turned to her and said with a knowing smile, “This is the entrance to Diagon Alley.”
Then, with a swift flick of her wand, Tap-tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. she tapped a series of bricks in a particular order. Ella held her breath.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the bricks began to move. They slid apart with a grinding, rumbling sound, folding into themselves until an arched doorway appeared where the solid wall had been just seconds ago.
Ella gasped.
Through the archway lay a street unlike anything she had ever imagined.
Diagon Alley.
She stepped through the doorway as if crossing into another world—and in a way, she was. The cobblestone streets were crowded and bustling with life. The shops were colorful, charmingly crooked, and absolutely bursting with personality. A bright purple storefront had robes floating in the window, while another had books flying from shelf to shelf, rearranging themselves. The air shimmered with enchantment, full of voices and laughter and the clinking of coins and the flap of owl wings from a nearby post shop.
Ella didn’t know where to look first.
There were wizards with long beards carrying armfuls of cauldrons, a group of giggling children licking glowing ice cream cones, and shopkeepers standing outside their stores calling out about discounts on spell ingredients. One store had a broomstick spinning in the window, sparkling gold lettering above it that read Nimbus 2000. Another had stacks of potion bottles lined up neatly, some bubbling and glowing faintly through the glass.
She stood completely still, her mouth slightly open in wonder.
“This… this is…” she whispered, unable to even find the words.
Ms. Jones chuckled. “Yes, it’s a lot to take in your first time. Come on—we’ve got a list of things to get.”
But Ella barely heard her. Her eyes were locked on the world around her. It was real. The magic, the wonder, the stories—everything was real. She was here, and it was more beautiful than any dream she had ever dared to have.
Ella and Ms. Jones wove through the bustling crowds of Diagon Alley, their shoes tapping across the uneven cobblestones. Everywhere Ella looked, there was something fascinating: a witch stirring a cauldron that let out rainbow-colored steam, a small boy giggling as a chocolate frog leapt from his hand, and a flock of owls flapping in their cages, hooting in protest.
Ella’s head was spinning—in the best way.
But then, the crowd thickened.
More and more people surged around her, brushing past in hurried waves. She tried to stay close to Ms. Jones, but someone’s cloak swept in front of her, blocking her view. A group of laughing students jostled past, and Ella stumbled back a step. She turned quickly, scanning for the familiar silhouette of her foster guardian—but Ms. Jones was gone.
Her heart skipped.
She turned left, then right. Nothing.
A taller man stepped in front of her, and she couldn’t see over his shoulder. Someone else brushed past her roughly, muttering a distracted apology. The swirl of bodies and chatter seemed to grow louder. Her small frame was swallowed by the crowd, and her excitement crumbled into confusion and fear.
She called out, “Ms. Jones?” once, then again—quieter the second time.
No one stopped.
Her breaths grew shorter. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. She was completely alone. In a magical street she didn’t know, filled with things and people she didn’t understand, and she had no idea where to go or what to do. The shops and sounds that had moments ago seemed full of wonder now felt overwhelming, like everything was closing in around her.
Her vision blurred a little. Her chest tightened.
Then—a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you alright?” said a voice—cool, steady, and clear.
Ella flinched slightly and turned to look up. Standing before her was a tall a woman so elegant she seemed out of place in the crowded alley. Her blonde black hair was swept into a flawless twist, her robes made of fabric that shimmered like liquid silver. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes—sharp and assessing—held a flicker of something that might have been concern.
“I—I’m lost,” Ella stammered, her voice trembling as much as her hands. “I lost my fost… Ms. Jones..I—I don’t know….what to do.”
The woman’s expression shifted, just slightly. Her eyes softened, and her lips curved into a faint, reassuring smile.
“Don’t worry, dear,” she said gently, her voice velvet-smooth. “You’re not alone anymore. What’s your name?”
“Ella,” she said quietly.
“Well then, Ella,” the woman replied, crouching slightly so they were eye level, “you’re safe with me. My name is Narcissa Malfoy. I know this place quite well. Come—let’s find your Ms. Jones, shall we?”
Ella hesitated for a moment. She didn’t know why this woman was helping her, didn’t know what to make of her cool demeanor or the way passersby seemed to step aside when she approached.
But there was something about her presence that grounded the swirling panic inside her. Narcissa spoke like everything would be fine. Like she had everything under control. Ella nodded and followed her, keeping close.
As they began to walk through the crowded streets, Narcissa didn’t hurry. She walked with a graceful pace, the crowd parting with her presence alone. She kept a hand on Ella’s back, guiding her gently, making sure she was never more than a few inches away.
Ella tried to remember the list from her Hogwarts letter—her very first shopping list for school. A wand, a cauldron, a set of robes, textbooks, a pet if she wanted one. But her thoughts were still scrambled. The colors of the shops blurred together, the sound of chattering witches and wizards thudded against her ears like background thunder, and even the scent of caramel and parchment from the nearby sweetshop barely registered.
But Narcissa kept her calm.
"You don't need to worry, Ella," she said after a moment, her voice cutting cleanly through the noise. "I'll help you get everything you need. I know this place inside and out. I’ve done this before—for my son, and nephew. Just follow me, and we’ll have everything sorted in no time."
Ella glanced up at her. “Your son goes to Hogwarts too?”
Narcissa gave a nod, “He does. My nephew too they’ll be entering their second year this year. Both a Slytherin, just like I was.”
Ella didn’t know much about the houses yet—just what she’d read in books—but she’d read that Slytherins were clever and ambitious… and sometimes a little cold. But Narcissa didn’t seem cold. She seemed… warm in a quiet way.
“I was so excited to come here,” Ella whispered. “And then I got scared. I don’t know how to do any of this.”
Narcissa gave a soft hum. “Everyone feels that way their first time,” she said. “Even the ones who pretend they don’t. But you’re doing quite well, Ella. It takes strength to ask for help when you’re frightened.”
That surprised Ella. She gave a small smile.
Magic was still everywhere—but now it felt magical again. The sharp fear in her chest had eased, replaced by a sense of wonder… and the strange comfort of walking beside someone who seemed like she belonged to this world, and was willing—at least for now—to let her belong to it too.
Narcissa led Ella to a little shop nestled between two taller buildings. The sign above the crooked doorway read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C. The windows were dusty and the wood of the door slightly weathered, as if the building had stood there for centuries untouched by time.
Inside, Ella could see rows upon rows of long, narrow boxes stacked high on shelves that reached the ceiling, the golden afternoon light filtering through in streaks. But just as Narcissa reached for the door handle, Ella froze.
Her stomach turned slightly, and her fingers curled around the edge of her sleeve. She took a shaky step back and murmured, “I… I’m sorry. Maybe I should look for Ms. Jones first. I-I don’t have any money right now…”
Her voice faltered toward the end, her cheeks flushing with shame. The thrill she’d felt earlier was quickly swallowed by a wave of embarrassment. She hated admitting it, hated feeling like she didn’t belong. For all the magic around her, she was still just a girl without anything to offer—no money, no idea what she was doing, no one beside her except a stranger she’d just met.
She expected Narcissa to look disappointed, or maybe even irritated. But instead, the woman simply turned and gave her the softest, most understanding smile.
“It’s no problem, Ella,” Narcissa said gently, her voice was calm, unhurried, and full of quiet reassurance. “I’m happy to help you. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”
Ella blinked. A part of her had been ready to run and disappear into the crowd again, but Narcissa’s kindness rooted her in place. Her shoulders loosened. Her chest felt a little lighter.
“But… thank you,” Ella said, her voice trembling just a little. “I’ll give you back the money once I find Ms. Jones. I promise.”
Narcissa nodded, her blue eyes steady. I know you will," she said, as if the idea of Ella not repaying her was unthinkable. "But for now, just relax and let me help you. You don’t need to worry about anything."
Ella felt something in her throat tighten. It was strange and a little overwhelming. A lump rose in her throat, and she bit her lip to keep it down.
She managed a whisper. “Thank you.”
Narcissa reached out and gently rested her hand on Ella’s back, guiding her toward the door. “Come on, let’s get your wand. It’s the most important part, after all.”
As they stepped inside the quiet, dim shop, the door creaked softly behind them, closing out the noise of the busy street. The air smelled like old parchment, cedarwood. And at the center of it all, beside the counter, stood an old man with a shock of white hair and wide, curious eyes.
“Ah,” said Mr. Ollivander, peering over his spectacles at Ella with a knowing smile. “A first wand… yes, yes. I’m Garrick Ollivander," he said, his voice low and deep, the kind that made you listen without meaning to.
“I’m Ella,” she replied, her voice a little small under his gaze. He made her feel like he was reading not just her face, but her soul. And yet… there was something comforting about him, too. Something ageless and wise.
Ollivander's gaze softened with a slight smile. "A pleasure, Miss Ella."
He stepped closer, examining her features with the same delicate curiosity he might reserve for a rare artifact. "Your eyes," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "A very particular shade of green. Like the forests of the Scottish Highlands after a storm, quite rare."
Ella blinked, taken aback. No one had ever described her eyes like that before.
"You are full of magic," he added quietly. "Untamed, perhaps, but strong. Let us find the wand that matches the magic."
He turned and began to move among the shelves with practiced ease, long fingers tracing the spines of boxes, occasionally pausing to pull one down. “Not this,” he would mutter, shaking his head after feeling the weight of one wand. “No… not this either. Ah, perhaps…”
He handed Ella a long wand. “Willow, unicorn hair. Graceful, good for those with flexibility in mind and body. Try it.”
Ella hesitated, then took the wand. It was cool and light in her hand. She gave it a cautious flick.
Nothing.
Not even a spark.
Ollivander took it back at once, already searching again. “No matter. Let's try another.”
The next wand was hazel wood with a dragon heartstring core. This one felt a little heavier. Ella gave it a little wave.
Still, nothing. The air remained still.
Ollivander frowned. “Still not the one,” he murmured.
Ella bit her lip. Worry began to cloud her excitement. What if none of them worked? What if she was the only witch who couldn't find her wand? She looked down at her hands, suddenly unsure.
“Don’t worry, Ella,” came Narcissa’s soft voice behind her. “Some wizards take a while to find the right wand. It’s not a race. You’ll find it.”
Ollivander nodded in agreement. “Quite right. Some of the most powerful witches I’ve met needed to try a dozen or more. The wand chooses the wizard—but the right one must feel your magic in return. We’ll keep going.”
Ella took a deep breath. “Okay,” she whispered.
Ollivander’s eyes gleamed again as he pulled another box down from high up. “Ah. Maple. Unicorn hair. Excellent for those with strong imagination, and a gift for charmwork.”
When Ella reached for it, the moment her fingers brushed the wood, she felt something—like warmth and a subtle buzzing sensation rushing up through her fingertips. She blinked and curled her hand around the wand fully.
“Give it a wave,” Ollivander encouraged, eyes twinkling.
Ella raised her arm, her nerves fading just a bit, and gave the wand a smooth, small wave.
A stream of bright, shimmering silver sparks burst from the tip and rained gently down around her in a sparkling arc, like stars being shaken from the sky. The air around her seemed to pulse in response. The magic felt right. Alive.
Ollivander's face lit up. “Yes! There it is. That’s the one!”
Ella stared at the wand in her hand, mouth slightly open. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, slowly turning it in her fingers. The maple wood had a rich, golden hue, trapped in solid form. “I felt it... I felt it choose me.”
“Yes,” Ollivander said with a satisfied smile. “Maple wands are drawn to those with ambition and a unique spirit. And unicorn hair,” he added, “is loyal and gentle. It bonds deeply, especially with witches of strong, quiet strength.”
Ella couldn’t stop smiling. Her cheeks hurt from how wide her grin stretched, but she didn’t care.
She turned to Narcissa, holding the wand up like a trophy. “I did it! I found my wand!” Narcissa’s face softened with pride. “I knew you would,” she said, her voice warm.
Ella’s heart soared. Just an hour ago, she’d been lost, alone in a strange and overwhelming place, certain that she didn’t belong. And now… now she was holding a wand that had chosen her. It was real. She was a witch.
She gave the wand another wave, sending up a few delicate sparks for the joy of it. The glow of magic danced in her eyes as she whispered to herself, “One step closer.”
After the excitement of finding her wand at Ollivanders, the bell above Madam Malkin’s door chimed softly as they stepped inside, the scent of fresh fabric and lavender starch wrapping around them like an embrace. The shop was a kaleidoscope of color—robes of every hue draped over polished mahogany racks, shimmering under the glow of floating enchanted candles.
Madam Malkin, a plump witch with rosy cheeks. "Welcome, my dears!" she trilled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "How may I help you?"
Narcissa placed a hand on Ella’s shoulder, her touch light but proprietary. "This young lady needs her first set of school robes," she said, her voice smooth as the silk lining the display robes. "I’m sure we can find something that will fit her perfectly."
Madam Malkin clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! Right this way,” she said, guiding Ella to a small raised platform in the center of the shop. “Let’s get you fitted.”
Ella climbed up and stood tall, her heart fluttering with a mix of nerves and excitement. She watched in the mirror as Madam Malkin flicked her wand, and a measuring tape zoomed out of a drawer and began to dart around her, noting down her measurements. “Arms out… good. Turn, please… Perfect posture.”
It circled her waist, tapped her shoulder blades, and even—to her startled giggle—booped the tip of her nose before darting away.
"Just standard Hogwarts black, I assume?" Madam Malkin asked, already pulling a set of folded robes from a nearby shelf.
Narcissa nodded. "With reinforced hems, if you please. First-years can be... enthusiastic."
Ella barely heard them. Her attention was fixed on the robes being held up for her inspection—jet-black wool, crisp and new, with silver fastenings that caught the light. She reached out, hesitating for a heartbeat before running her fingers along the fabric. It was softer than anything she’d ever owned.
As Madam Malkin bustled around, levitating various robes over for Ella to try, Narcissa stood quietly near the wall, watching her with a distant, almost wistful look in her eyes. She wasn’t just watching Ella try on robes—she was seeing something, someone that lived only in her memory. For a moment, she wasn’t standing in a shop on Diagon Alley; she was somewhere else entirely, years in the past.
Ella twirled around in front of the mirror. “I look like a real witch!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with joy. She grinned at herself, watching the way the fabric swirled around her legs as she spun.
“You look wonderful,” Narcissa said, stepping closer. Her voice was gentle, and her smile reached her eyes—but there was a softness in her gaze that lingered as she looked at Ella, as if she were seeing more than just robes and excitement.
Ella glanced at her reflection, then at Narcissa through the mirror. “Do I really look okay?”
Narcissa nodded, her lips curving into a smile that was both proud and a little sad. “You look like you were meant to be here.”
As Madam Malkin packaged the robes (along with a set of dragon gloves Narcissa insisted on adding), Ella caught a glimpse of Narcissa’s reflection in the mirror. The woman was staring at her again, her pale eyes distant, her fingers absently tracing the edge of her own sleeve.
There was something there that Ella couldn’t decipher.
Did I do something wrong?
But then Narcissa blinked, and the moment passed. "Come," she said, lifting the parcel with effortless grace. "We still have your cauldron and books to collect."
Over the next hour, she and Narcissa moved from shop to shop, crossing items off her school list one by one. They stopped by Potage’s Cauldron Shop, rows of cauldrons lined the walls, gleaming in every size imaginable—from tiny brass ones no bigger than a teacup to massive iron pots that could have doubled as bathtubs.
Ella’s fingers trailed along a shelf near the back, where a cluster of slightly dented, second-hand cauldrons sat at a fraction of the price. She paused in front of one, its surface scratched from use but otherwise perfectly functional.
"This one will do," she said, lifting it carefully.
Narcissa, who had been examining a display of self-stirring models, turned sharply. Her gaze flickered from the cauldron in Ella’s hands to her face, her expression unreadable.
"That’s used," she said, her voice cool.
Ella’s stomach tightened. She hadn’t even considered that Narcissa might disapprove. Of course a woman like her—regal, polished, accustomed to the finest things—would expect everything to be new.
"I—I know," Ella stammered, her grip tightening on the handle. “I… I just thought it would be cheaper. I don’t want to spend too much. I didn’t know how much the robes and wand cost, or the rest of the stuff on the list. I thought maybe I should be more careful.” She swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how much Narcissa had already spent on her. "I don’t want to waste your money." she avoided Narcissa’s gaze.
For a long moment, Narcissa said nothing. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she plucked the second-hand cauldron from Ella’s hands and set it back on the shelf.
Ella’s heart sank. She’s angry. I’ve offended her.
"We do not purchase used goods where others might see. Especially not when you’ll be seen with me."
Ella’s cheeks burned. She hadn’t considered—"B-but the price—"
"Doesn’t matter." Narcissa’s gaze flickered toward the shopkeeper watching them from the counter. Ella’s eyes darted to hers. “But… I don’t want to take advantage. I didn’t know how much I was allowed to—”
Narcissa shook her head, her fingers tightening slightly around Ella’s. “This isn’t about what you’re allowed to have. It’s about what you deserve. And you deserve a new cauldron. A good one. One that’s only ever known your hands and your magic.”
For a moment, Ella didn’t speak. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. "No," Narcissa interrupted, not unkindly. She placed the new cauldron in Ella’s arms. "You couldn’t have known. But now you do."
As they approached the counter, Narcissa’s posture shifted—chin lifted, shoulders back, every inch of her saying she is a upper-class witch. When the shopkeeper’s gaze dropped to Ella’s mended shoes, Narcissa’s voice cut through the silence like silver.
"The standard Hogwarts kit," she emphasized, sliding a galleon across the counter with deliberate precision. "And have it wrapped properly."
The shopkeeper’s smirk vanished.
Outside, with their purchases charmed to feather-lightness, Narcissa finally exhaled. "You’ll understand someday," she said quietly. "There are games being played in these shops, Ella. Every purchase, every choice—they’re watching. Judging."
“Thank you,” she said.
Narcissa smiled, her blue eyes soft. “You don’t need to thank me, darling. Just promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“Don’t ever shrink yourself to make someone else comfortable. Least of all yourself.”
Ella nodded. In that moment, she felt like she was learning something far beyond school supplies—something about worth, and care, and the quiet kind of love that came not with loud words, but with choices.
They continued walking, two figures in the golden light of the afternoon, weaving through the crowds of Diagon Alley like characters in a dream Ella never wanted to wake from.
At each stop, Ella grew more excited, and Narcissa remained close, answering her questions, occasionally teasing her with a quirked eyebrow or amused comment. But every now and then, Ella would catch her watching her.
They visited a shop tucked in the corner for a set of brass scales, a sleek telescope, and a beginner’s potion ingredients kit with tiny vials of dried herbs and shimmerdust that fascinated her to no end. Ella held onto her package like it was the most precious thing in the world.
As they walked past a small bookshop, Ella paused, her bag of supplies bouncing at her side. “This is the best day I’ve ever had,” she said, her voice soft with awe.
Narcissa stopped and looked down at her, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Ella’s cheek. “I’m glad,” she said. “You deserve to have a day like this.”
Ella didn’t know what to say to that, so she just beamed, her heart full, and her feet light.
After ticking nearly every item off the Hogwarts supply list, Ella and Narcissa made their way to the Magical Menagerie, the moment they stepped inside, Ella felt like she had entered a completely different world.
Ella’s eyes darted from one end of the shop to the other, trying to take it all in. There were sleek, purring cats lounging on high shelves, their tails flicking lazily as they observed the customers below. Owls of every color and size preened their feathers in tall, gilded cages, their round eyes blinking with quiet intelligence. Toads sat in shallow basins of water, their throats puffing out in slow, contented breaths. And in the far corner, a pair of nifflers were causing mischief, their little paws digging enthusiastically into a pile of shiny trinkets the shopkeeper had laid out to keep them occupied.
Narcissa observed Ella’s wide-eyed wonder with a faint smile. "Well?" she asked, her voice carrying over the din of the shop. "Is there a creature here you’d like to have as a pet?"
Ella walked further in, leaning close to a tank where a puffskein lazily floated inside a bubble charm. But something pulled her attention—like a soft tug in her chest—and she found herself turning toward, a sleek black kitten curled up in a cushioned basket near the counter. Its fur was as dark as midnight, but its eyes—bright, and a striking shade of yellow—seemed to glow in the dark. As if sensing her attention, the kitten lifted its head and stared directly at her.
Ella’s breath caught.
"That one," she said suddenly, pointing. "I want that one." Narcissa followed her gaze and arched a delicate eyebrow. "You’re sure?" she asked. "A pet is a big responsibility, Ella. It’s not just about feeding it—it’s about companionship, care, and commitment."
Ella didn’t look away from the kitten. "I know," she said softly. "But I think I’m ready for it."
The witch behind the counter—a cheerful woman with a wand sticking out of her beehive hair—came over, cooing when she saw which kitten Ella had chosen. "Ah, you’ve got an eye for quality, young miss!" she said, noticing Ella’s interest in the black kitten. "This little one’s got Kneazle blood in her—see the tufted ears? Clever as a whip, she is. Just came in last week."
Ella reached out tentatively, and the kitten sniffed her fingers before butting its head against her palm. A soft purr rumbled from its tiny chest. "She likes you," the shopkeeper said with a grin. "That’s a good sign."
Narcissa, ever practical, began listing off supplies. "A carrier, for travel. Bowls, Premium kitten food—none of that common rubbish. Enough food to last until she’s settled at Hogwarts. A self-cleaning litter box, if you have one. ” She glanced at Ella. “A few toys, We’ll let her pick a collar, too. Something charming.”
They spent the next twenty minutes choosing supplies. At one point, Ella paused near a stack of clearance crates, eyeing the prices. Narcissa noticed. Ella picked a silver bowl with tiny star engravings and a collar with a small yellow bell that matched the kitten’s eyes. Narcissa also
insisted on a magically reinforced carrier with cushioning charms and temperature control, “so she doesn’t freeze on the train platform or roast in the summer sun.”
As they checked out, the shopkeeper placed the kitten into her new carrier and handed it to Ella, who cradled the enchanted carrier in her arms, her black kitten curled up inside, occasionally batting at the enchanted feather toy that floated above her. Ella giggled softly, trying out names in her head—Shadow? Moon? Midnight?—but none of them felt quite right yet.
She was mid-thought, smiling down at the kitten, when a polished voice interrupted them.
“Cissa, honey—where did you go? And who is this?”
Ella’s head snapped up. A tall, pale man with long white-blond hair stood before them, his silver-tipped cane resting elegantly against the cobblestones. His sharp grey eyes flickered over her with an unreadable expression, beside him stood two boys: one with the same platinum hair and pointed features as the man, the other slightly taller with a brown curly hair, a more relaxed posture but the same aristocratic air.
Lucius Malfoy’s cold eyes, narrowing slightly as he took her in.
Narcissa didn’t look startled. She simply stepped forward with practiced elegance and gave a small smile. But when her eyes met Lucius’s, no words passed between them—and none were needed. Something silent and weighty passed in that look, something only people who had known each other for decades could understand.
Then Narcissa gently placed her hand on Ella’s shoulder. “This is Ella,” she said calmly. “Ella, this is my husband, Lucius Malfoy. And these two are Draco and Matthew.”
Ella swallowed, her nerves creeping up on her now that all eyes were on her. The elegant, powerful-looking family made her feel suddenly small—like maybe she wasn’t supposed to be here.
Ella’s fingers tightened around the carrier’s handle. “H-Hi,” she said softly, she tried to meet Draco and Matthew’s eyes, but they were… quiet. Studying. Narcissa continued smoothly. “She was a little lost. It’s her first time in Diagon Alley. She’s a year younger than you two.”
Draco and Matthew didn’t say anything right away. They weren’t used to this. The Malfoys rarely interacted with outsiders—especially not random people. Even Matthew, who had always been slightly more social than Draco, looked uncertain about how to behave.
Draco’s eyes dropped to the kitten in the carrier, then back up to Ella. There was a quiet flicker of curiosity, but it didn’t quite show on his face yet.
Then Narcissa tilted her head and gave her son a look—the kind that didn’t need words, much like the one she’d shared with Lucius.
Draco sighed a little, but not out of annoyance. It was more like he understood what his mother was doing—and he’d go along with it. Slowly, he reached into the Honeydukes bag and pulled out a small box with bright colors.
“Here,” he said, stepping closer and offering the box to Ella. “Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. Sometimes they taste like strawberries. Sometimes… like soap. Or worse.”
Ella took the box, blinking. “That’s not very comforting,” she said, laughing nervously.
“You just have to be prepared for anything,” Draco said, sounding a bit more like himself now. He took one from the box and held it up. “Ready? I’ll show you.”
Ella nodded, hugging the carrier close. Draco popped the bean into his mouth—then immediately started coughing.
“W-What is it?” Ella asked, her eyes wide.
"Pepper," he choked, eyes watering. "Bloody—pepper-flavored—"
Ella clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Matthew didn’t bother hiding his laughter.
"That’s what you get for showing off," Matthew said, grinning.
Draco shot him a glare, but there was no real heat in it.
Encouraged, Ella took a bean of her own. —and immediately made a face. “Strawberry… wait—ugh, what is that?!”
“Sour spinach, probably,” Matthew said with a laugh as she spat it out into a napkin. Even Draco chuckled at the dramatic grimace on her face.
“Sour spinach, probably,” Matthew said with a laugh as she spat it out into a napkin. Even Draco chuckled at the dramatic grimace on her face.
Draco rolled his eyes and handed Matthew a bean of his own. “Your turn, then.” Matthew shrugged, tossed it in, and chewed. “Caramel,” he said smugly.
Draco gave a dramatic sigh. “Of course you’d get the good one.”
Ella laughed again, more freely this time, her shoulders relaxing. For a moment, the heavy air around the Malfoys lifted. Lucius watched the scene silently.
But Narcissa didn’t look at him. She looked at Ella—at the way the girl’s eyes brightened now.
“Well, now that you’ve had your fun,” Narcissa said lightly, glancing down at Draco and Matthew with a cool but fond expression, “we really should be going. We still haven’t found Ms. Jones, Ella.”
“Wait,” Ella said suddenly, lifting her hand and pointing down the cobblestone street. “That’s her—Mrs. Jones!”
All heads turned. A woman was standing in front of a shop, scanning the crowd with a panicked look. But the moment Mrs. Jones spotted Ella standing beside Narcissa Malfoy, her blood ran cold.
She had been searching frantically for her, her heart pounding with every passing minute, imagining the worst—Ella lost, frightened, or worse, taken by someone with ill intentions. And now here she was, unharmed, but in the company of the Malfoys.
Mrs. Jones’ breath hitched as she took in the scene before her: Ella, clutching a kitten carrier and a stack of parcels, standing between Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy like some sort of misplaced guest. Draco and Matthew lingered nearby, their expressions unreadable.
Forcing her legs to move, Mrs. Jones hurried forward, her hands trembling at her sides.
"Ella!" she called out, her voice strained with relief and something sharper—fear. "Merlin’s beard, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Where have you been?"
Ella opened her mouth to respond, but Narcissa stepped forward smoothly, cutting her off.
"Hello," Narcissa said, her voice cool and polished as ice. “I’m Narcissa Malfoy. I found Ella wandering alone in Diagon Alley. She was quite worried, poor thing, and I helped her get everything she needed for school.”
Jones’ throat tightened. She had heard stories about the Malfoys—their wealth, their influence, their infamous disdain for anyone they deemed beneath them. And now here was Narcissa Malfoy in the flesh, her piercing blue eyes assessing her with the same detached interest one might give a mildly inconvenient insect.
Her gaze flickered to Lucius, who stood silently beside his wife. His grip on his cane was loose, almost lazy, but there was something in the way he held himself—like a predator perfectly at ease because he knew nothing here could challenge him.
She recognized Draco from photographs in the Daily Prophet, and assumed the other boy was his cousin. Both stood with the quiet, stiff discomfort of boys raised to observe before acting.
Mrs. Jones swallowed hard.
She wanted to pull Ella away, to shield her from these people, but she didn’t dare. One wrong move, one misplaced word, and she could bring down the Malfoys’ wrath—not just on herself, but on the entire orphanage. She didn’t want to make enemies of people with power like the Malfoys. People who could crush someone like her with the flick of a wand—or a single whispered word to the right Ministry official.
So she stood there, frozen, her smile brittle.
"I—I see," Mrs. Jones stammered, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her worn robes. "Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. That was... very kind of you."
The words tasted bitter on her tongue. Kindness was not a trait the Malfoys were known for.
“No need to thank me,” Narcissa said smoothly, her eyes still on Ella. “She was quite good company.”
Ella shifted awkwardly, but a faint blush crept into her cheeks. She could feel Mrs. Jones’s gaze, pleading silently, begging her to be careful. But she didn’t feel in danger—not with Narcissa.
Ella turned to Mrs. Jones, her face pinched with worry. "I need money to pay her back," she whispered urgently. "For the wand, the robes—everything."
Before Mrs. Jones could respond, Narcissa gently raised a hand. “Ella, please,” she said firmly, her voice as smooth. “Consider this a gift. I don't expect you to pay me back, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
Ella blinked, startled. She turned to Narcissa, her mouth opening and closing before she managed to find the words. “But I can’t just accept this,” she said, struggling against the guilt that crept into her voice. “I need to repay you somehow.”
Narcissa shook her head slowly. “I want you to have this,” she said again, her gaze soft , “It’s a gift, Ella.”
Draco and Matthew stood quietly behind her, exchanging a look. They both knew Narcissa could be generous—but never like this. Not to someone she’d just met. Not to someone outside their circle. It was unlike her.
Draco’s brow furrowed slightly. Narcissa Malfoy didn’t do kindness without reason. Matthew, studied Ella with new interest. There was something about this girl—something he couldn’t quite place—that had cracked Narcissa’s usual icy composure.
Ella hesitated, her arms tightening around the tiny kitten nestled against her chest. She looked down at the kitten blinked up at her. A smile tugged at Ella’s lips.
She looked up at Narcissa, eyes shining with emotion. “Then… I want you to name the kitten.”
Narcissa tilted her head slightly. “Me?”
“You’ve given me such a wonderful gift,” Ella said, her voice trembling with excitement. “I want you to be part of her story. I want you to name her.”
For a moment, Narcissa was quiet. She seemed genuinely taken aback. She glanced at the kitten, then at Ella. The request was small, yet intimate—and it touched something deeper than she expected.
Draco and Matthew said nothing. They simply watched, curious, as Narcissa’s expression softened.
“Alright,” she said, almost hesitantly. Her gaze lingered on the kitten, and then a small smile played at her lips. “What about… Lucy?”
Ella’s eyes lit up. “Lucy?”
A beat of silence. Then—Draco snorted. "You’re naming a black cat Lucy?"
The irony of naming a pitch-black kitten light wasn’t lost on anyone. There was a beat of silence—then all of them laughed.
“I suppose it’s fitting, in a way,” Narcissa added with a rare, amused smile. “Lucy will always be a little bit of a paradox. And that’s what makes her special.”
Lucy, as if understanding the attention, yawned lazily and rubbed her tiny head against Ella’s hand, purring happily.
Ella looked down at her, then back up at Narcissa. “Lucy,” she repeated. “I love it. It’s absolutely perfect.”
“Ella, it’s time to go,” Ms. Jones said, her voice a little shaky. Standing in the presence of the Malfoys was intimidating—like balancing on glass, unsure where it might crack.
Ella turned to Narcissa, heart fluttering. Something tugged at her, a sudden, overwhelming urge—to hug her. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, knowing it might be considered inappropriate. But she didn’t care.
Before she could second-guess herself, Ella stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Narcissa. It wasn’t a polite hug—it was warm, firm, full of sincerity. The kind of hug that said thank you without needing words.
For a heartbeat, Narcissa froze. The contact was unfamiliar, unexpected. But then, slowly, her arms came around the girl in return. It was stiff at first, but then it softened. She felt something in Ella’s touch—a warmth that was foreign, yet oddly comforting.
Ella pulled back just slightly, then leaned in and kissed Narcissa’s cheek. A tender, affectionate gesture that took the older woman by complete surprise.
Narcissa blinked. Her posture remained regal, but she didn’t pull away. She only nodded, her expression unreadable—until the corners of her lips curved into a faint smile.
Lucius, standing just beside her, looked mildly alarmed at the display of emotion. Ella turned to him next, Lucius, who hadn’t been hugged by anyone outside his immediate family since approximately 1978, went rigid. She offered him the most awkward half-hug imaginable. She knew a full embrace might be too much. Lucius looked as though no one had ever hugged him like that, but he gave her a brief, uncertain pat on the shoulder.
She stepped back, cheeks warm with a touch of embarrassment, but still smiling.
Draco and Matthew stood side by side, watching silently. Ella turned to them next. For a moment, it looked like she was going to hug them too. Her arms twitched slightly as if deciding—but something stopped her. Maybe their formal stance, maybe the look in their eyes.
Instead, she smiled and extended her hand.
“Thank you for the candy,” she said to Draco, her voice light but genuine.
Draco hesitated for a second—handshakes weren’t exactly in his daily routine either—but he took her hand and gave it a small, polite shake. His smile was brief, but real. "Try not to choke on a pepper bean before term even starts," he said, but there was no malice in it.
Matthew nodded and shook her hand as well, his grip careful, like he didn’t want to startle her. Neither of them were used to physical closeness, especially outside their tight-knit circle. Touch, for them, had always been reserved—controlled. A symbol of trust or loyalty, affection for their small family.
Ella, on the other hand, was a tangle of heart-first instincts, expressing care with hugs, closeness, and warmth. It felt new to all of them.
As they parted ways, she looked over her shoulder and called out with a grin, “I’ll look forward to seeing you at school.”
She walked away with Lucy nestled against her, and Ms. Jones by her side, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement buzzing in her chest. She didn’t know exactly what Hogwarts would hold—but something told her Draco and Matthew would be a part of it.
Back by the door, Lucius and Narcissa stood quietly.
Then it hit them—like a sudden gust of memory. A time long ago, when they had made choices that changed everything. Sacrifices, risks, regrets. It was all there, just beneath the surface.
“Mum,” Draco asked, his voice breaking the quiet. “Why did you help her?” Matthew turned to her too, curiosity written all over his face. Neither of them had ever seen Narcissa act that way before.
Narcissa didn’t answer right away. She just stared at the spot where Ella had stood, a softness lingering in her expression.
“I just… wanted to help,” she finally said, her voice low. “I know what it’s like to feel lost.”
Draco and Matthew exchanged a glance. This was a side of Narcissa they rarely saw—gentle, open, vulnerable.
Then, almost playfully, Narcissa added, “I think she’d make a fine Slytherin.”
Draco smirked. “She might be too kind-hearted for Slytherin.”
“We’ll see,” Narcissa said, her voice light, though something thoughtful lingered in her gaze. And as they walked away, the ghost of Ella’s hug still lingering in the space between them, not even Lucius dared to question it.
The walk back to the orphanage was heavy with unspoken tension. Ella could feel Ms. Jones’ disapproval in the stiff set of her shoulders, in the way her grip tightened ever so slightly around Ella’s hand. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating, until Ms. Jones finally spoke.
"Ella," she began, her voice low but firm, "you should know better than to go off with strangers like that." "But they helped me," she protested.
"I know you’re curious," Ms. Jones continued, ignoring the interruption, "but you must be more careful. The Malfoys are… complicated. Their family has a history. You shouldn’t associate with them."
Ella stopped walking, forcing Ms. Jones to turn and face her. "They weren’t bad at all," she insisted, her jaw set stubbornly. "Mrs. Malfoy bought me my wand, and my robes, and—and Lucy! Draco shared his sweets with me. They were nice."
Ms. Jones sighed, rubbing her temple as if trying to ward off a headache. "I know they were kind to you today," she said carefully, "but people aren’t always what they seem. Especially families like theirs. You must be cautious."
Ella’s cheeks burned. She wanted to argue, but the look in Ms. Jones’ eyes—a mix of worry and something deeper, something almost like fear—made the words die in her throat.
"I’m sorry, Ms. Jones," she muttered instead, staring down at Lucy, who blinked up at her with wide, innocent eyes. Ms. Jones softened slightly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Ella’s ear. "I just want you to be safe."
Ella nodded, but her mind was already far away—back in Diagon Alley, surrounded by magic and laughter and the thrill of being seen, really seen, for the first time in her life. No matter what Ms. Jones said, she couldn’t make Ella believe the Malfoys were anything but wonderful. She had met a real wizarding family. She had hugged Narcissa Malfoy. Magic wasn’t just something in a letter anymore. It was real. It had names, faces, stories. And Ella couldn’t wait to be a part of it.
Once they returned to the orphanage, Ella practically flew to her room, her heart pounding with excitement. She shut the door behind her and dropped to the floor one by one, she pulled out the books. Her eyes sparkled as she ran her fingers over the covers, tracing the gold-embossed titles and admiring the swirling illustrations. Some looked ancient, others brand new, but they all smelled like magic and mystery. She flipped through a few pages and felt as though the very air around her shifted.
The Wand: She saved it for last. The maple wood was warm against her palm, as if it had been waiting for her. Closing her eyes, she could feel it—a quiet hum beneath her skin, like a second heartbeat. In her mind’s eye, she stood in a vast library, its ceilings lost in shadow, shelves stretching farther than she could see.
With a playful flick of her wrist, she imagined the books lifting off the shelves—dancing, spinning, floating. They twirled around her like butterflies, and she laughed out loud in pure delight. She laughed aloud—Then she opened her eyes. The room was quiet, ordinary again. But the feeling in her chest—the wonder—remained.
From that day on, Ella and Lucy were inseparable. The kitten followed her like a shadow, curling up beside her when she read or padding silently after her down the orphanage corridors. They’d curl up on her narrow bed together, Lucy purring softly while Ella hugged her favorite plushie close and read until her eyes grew heavy. Sometimes, Ella would wake to find Lucy batting at her nose or kneading the worn fabric of her frog plushie with tiny claws.
"You’re going to love Hogwarts," Ella whispered one evening, scratching behind Lucy’s tufted ears. "There’s probably a hundred secret corners to explore. And mice! Well, maybe not mice. But magical mice." Lucy blinked her golden eyes, as if to say, Obviously.
Ella’s new sense of curiosity spilled over into every part of her life. She asked questions. A lot of them. About everything. She’d corner the older orphans and ask about ghosts, about things people didn’t usually think to ask.
"Merlin’s beard, Ella, I don’t know why the Forbidden Forest is forbidden!" snapped Timothy, a lanky fifteen-year-old who’d been on the receiving end of her interrogation for the better part of an hour. "But have you been there?" Ella pressed. "No! And neither should you!"They started calling her “the curious one.”
But Ella didn’t mind. She was proud of that name. Every answer was like a thread, pulling her closer to the vast, beautiful world she’d only just begun to discover.
The night before she was to leave for Hogwarts, Her room, usually filled with the sounds of creaking floorboards or distant laughter, felt quieter than usual. Her thoughts were too loud.
Would the Sorting Hat shout her house immediately? Would the ceiling of the Great Hall really look like the sky? Would Draco and Matthew seek her out, or would they pretend not to know her?
Lucy chirped softly, nudging Ella’s chin with her cold nose. "Alright, alright," Ella murmured, scratching under the kitten’s chin. "I’ll try to sleep." her trunk packed her robes folded neatly inside. Outside, the stars burned brighter than ever. She didn’t count them tonight.
Instead, she smiled up at them and whispered, "Thank you."
The sun had barely begun to rise when Ella awoke, she had hardly slept at all. Today was the day. She dressed quickly, slipping into a black overall layered over a striped black-and-white long-sleeve shirt. Her favorite pink shoes completed the look—bright and cheerful, like the feeling bubbling in her chest.
Turning to the small chair near her bed, she spotted Lucy, curled up in a ball of black fluff. Ella tiptoed over and gently scooped the kitten into her arms.
“This is a big day for you too, isn't it, Lucy?” she murmured, rubbing behind the kitten’s ears.
Lucy responded with a deep, steady purr, her tiny body relaxing into Ella’s arms. Ella could’ve sworn the kitten was smiling.
Down in the dining hall, the smell of warm bread and sizzling eggs filled the air, making Ella’s stomach growl. She sat at the table and tried to eat, but her hands trembled slightly with excitement. Around her, the other children seemed calm and composed. After a few bites, she excused herself and went back upstairs.
She wanted to be sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.
She checked her bag one last time—clothes? Packed. Books? All there. Wand? Safely tucked in its case. Everything was ready. As she turned to leave, something on her desk caught her eye.
Her frog plushie. She walked over, picked it up, and pressed it close to her heart. The fabric was soft and familiar, like a warm hug. “I can’t go without you,” she whispered. “You’ll be my good luck charm, my little friend.”
She tucked the plushie carefully into her bag, right on top of her books. Then, taking a steadying breath, she gave herself a quiet pep talk. “You’ve got this.”
She placed Lucy into the small carrier she had prepared, “You’re ready for this, aren’t you?” Ella said with a smile. Lucy let out a gentle meow in response.
Bag over her shoulder, carrier in hand, Ella made her way to the orphanage’s front door. She paused for just a moment—one last glance, then she stepped out into the morning light.
The sun was rising, golden and warm, casting long shadows across the pavement. The other children were already gathering near the gate. Ella grinned and walked faster.
She fidgeted in her seat the entire way to the train station, her excitement bubbling just beneath the surface. She tried to make conversation with the other children, "Do you think the Sorting Hat takes requests?" she asked, bouncing her knees.
A grunt from the boy across the aisle. "What if I want to be in Hufflepuff? Is that weird?" This time, a sigh. Ella gave up and pressed her nose to the glass, counting down the minutes.
She needed out—out of the silence, out of the bus, and into the magic. Finally, the bus pulled up to the train station, and Ella shot out the door the moment it opened, practically bouncing with energy.
She followed the instructions she’d been given, weaving through the busy station until she spotted something curious—a family of red-heads clustered near a seemingly ordinary brick wall. The parents were chatting animatedly to their children.
She watched, wide-eyed, as one by one, they walked straight through the wall. Just like that. Vanished. Ella’s heart pounded. She squared her shoulders, gripped her bag, and with Lucy's carrier held close, stepped toward the wall. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes……and walked through.
A tingling swept over her skin, and the moment she opened her eyes, her breath caught.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters buzzed with life. Steam curled around the massive red engine of the Hogwarts Express, while owls hooted from their cages and cats darted between trunks. Children laughed, cried, and shouted to each other, and somewhere in the air lingered the strange blend of diesel smoke and hotdogs.
Ella stood frozen for a moment, trying to take it all in.
This was real.
Clutching her bag and Lucy’s carrier, she followed the crowd toward the train. She climbed aboard and wandered down the corridor, peeking into compartments until she found an empty one. She slid the door shut, set her things down, and finally let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
The train gave a low whistle. She was going to Hogwarts. Just as she began to settle into her seat, the compartment door slid open. Two girls stepped inside.
One was tall and elegant, with sleek black hair tied into a perfect ponytail. The other was shorter, with bushy brown hair that framed her thoughtful face.
They both offered polite smiles before sitting down across from her.
“Hi!” Ella grinned, unable to contain her excitement. “I’m Ella. Isn’t this exciting? Its my first time. What does it feel to be at Hogwarts? What kind of books do you like—”
They exchanged a quick glance, then answered politely, but briefly. Ella could tell they weren’t trying to be rude—they just weren’t as chatty as she was.
Still, that didn’t stop her.
She kept asking questions, listening intently to their responses. Eventually, the two girls began talking to each other in low tones, clearly more comfortable with each other.
Ella didn’t mind too much. She’d learned they were both Ravenclaws, which didn’t surprise her. They had that quiet, focused energy—like their minds were always solving puzzles. She felt a little envious of how calm and smart they seemed. Would she be in Ravenclaw too? She glanced out the window, her thoughts drifting as the scenery shifted—rolling green hills gave way to thick forests, then to distant mountains shrouded in mist.
Everything looked different.
Everything was different.
She leaned her head against the cool glass, her breath fogging up the window slightly, and let her thoughts carry her toward the unknown.
Toward Hogwarts.
Notes:
AND THAT'S A WRAP, YOU MAGICAL WEIRDOS!
WOULD I ACCEPT NARCISSA’S HELP?
Darling, I’d sell both my kidneys to be on her good side.
pros:
Premium tea (both the drink and the gossip)
Free life coaching (“Darling, must you wear those shoes?”)
Access to ancient Black family secrets (aka how to ruin a man in 3 words)
BUT THERE IS..
50% chance she’s manipulating you
40% chance you’ll develop a wine addiction
10% chance she’ll adopt you (worth it)Real Talk: That woman could destroy me with one polished nail tap and I’d thank her. Imagine the stories, the scandal, the sheer audacity. I’d take her ‘help’ like a Niffler takes gold – with zero shame.
THIS CHAPTER RANDOM CHAPTER QUESTION:
Which Diagon Alley shop would bankrupt you first? (We all know it’s Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.)
but would like to hear your answer anyway.With love, chaos, and and a questionable amount of daydreaming.
– [Elaf Mohammed/Buttercow]
Chapter 4: Hogwarts.
Notes:
Hello, lovely weirdos, Potterheads and daydreamers! 🧙🏽♀️
CHAPTER 4 IS HERE!!!"FUN FACT: These early chapter drafts barely hit 13-15 pages—meanwhile, this monster somehow exploded into 32 pages. Now I'm TERRIFIED of the really heavy chapters- you know, the 30+ page. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO??? (Yes, I reread my old drafts and nearly died from cringe. Baby writer me "I'm still a baby writer" really thought she ate that. The delusion was strong.)
PS. If I read this one again, I’d probably tear it apart too—so I’m slamming the ‘post’ button before my inner critic wakes up. Moral of the story? Overthinking is the enemy. Just yeet it.
Hope you like this chapter.🌹
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ella practically burst off the train the moment it stopped, her legs itching to move after hours of restless sitting. The crisp night air hit her face as she stumbled onto the platform, Lucy’s carrier bumping against her hip. Around her, students reunited with friends, their laughter and shouts. Ella practically burst off the train the moment it stopped, her legs itching to move after hours of restless sitting. The crisp night air hit her face as she stumbled onto the platform, Lucy’s carrier bumping against her hip.
Around her, students reunited with friends, their laughter and shouts, She wasn’t used to this—the noise, the crowd, the energy. Ella felt a bit overwhelmed by it all. She had grown used to quiet—used to days spent in silence at the orphanage, or even in the compartment earlier, where the girls had offered little more than polite responses before falling into their own private conversations.
“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!”
The voice boomed over the chatter, Ella turned—and nearly dropped Lucy’s carrier.
The man was enormous. Towering over the students, his wild beard and twinkling eyes made him look like a storybook giant, but his smile was so kind that Ella felt no fear.
Ella grinned. Of course Hogwarts had a gentle giant. Why wouldn’t it?
She followed the flock of first-years, the man, who introduced himself as Hagrid, led them down a curved path, her smaller frame dodging elbows as they were herded toward the edge of a vast, black lake.
The boats waited, bobbing gently on the water’s surface like wooden ducks. Hagrid ushered them in—“No more’n four to a boat!”—and Ella clambered into one, barely noticing who joined her. Then, with a silent command, the boats began to move.
No oars. No engine. Just magic.
Ella gasped as the castle came into view, its turrets and towers rising from the cliffs like a dream. Windows glowed gold against the night, their reflections shimmering on the lake’s surface.
“It’s…” She fumbled for words.
“Yeah,” said a boy across from her, his voice hushed. “It always is.”
Lucy let out a tiny mew, her golden eyes wide as if she, too, understood the significance. As the boats neared the shore, Ella’s heart hammered so hard she feared it might leap from her ribs. The castle loomed larger now, its stone walls whispering of centuries of secrets.
Hagrid’s voice carried over the water: “Heads up, yeh lot! Yeh’re about to step into history.”
Her eyes were fixed on the towering oak doors ahead, already creaking open in welcome. The massive oak doors groaned as they swung open, revealing a grand entrance hall lit by flickering torches. A hush seemed to fall over them. The cold stone beneath their shoes echoed in the wide entrance hall, the air filled with the scent of waxed wood, parchment, and something warm and ancient. They were soon greeted by a tall, stern-looking woman in emerald green robes, her hair pulled into a tight bun beneath a pointed hat. Her square spectacles rested neatly on the bridge of her nose, and her sharp eyes studied them with the precision of someone who had seen generations of nervous students stand where they now stood.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, her voice crisp, yet not unkind. "I am Professor McGonagall."
Her gaze lingered on a few students—Ella included—as if already weighing their potential. "Please follow me." The group of first years moved as one, as Professor McGonagall led them up a flight of stairs and through a series of winding corridors lit by floating torches. The walls were lined with portraits that whispered and pointed at them, and the occasional suit of armor gave a little jolt as they passed.
“The four houses of Hogwarts are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin,” Professor McGonagall explained, pausing at the top of a staircase. Her voice carried clearly in the corridor, filled with quiet awe.
“You will be sorted into your houses shortly. Each house has its own noble history, and its own common room, traditions, and rules. During your time here, your housemates will become your family. You will learn together, eat together, and your triumphs and mistakes will reflect on them as much as they reflect on you. —but remember, it is your choices that define you, not the house you wear on your robes."
Ella swallowed hard, her stomach twisting. The thought of a new family—a magical one—felt both thrilling and strange. Would she really belong somewhere? Would she be enough?
As they approached two massive doors, the murmurs of a crowd could be heard on the other side. Professor McGonagall stopped, turning to face them one last time.
“Now, when we enter the Great Hall, you will walk in a line behind me. The Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly after.” Then the doors to the Great Hall opened, and Ella’s thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind.
The sight before her stole her breath away.
Four long tables stretched the length of the hall, packed with students in robes of red, yellow, blue, and green. Candles floated midair, their golden light reflecting off golden plates and goblets. At the far end, the teachers sat in solemn grandeur, their faces illuminated by the warm glow. among them, a white-bearded man in robes of deep purple and twinkling eyes that Ella instantly recognized from the books she'd read. Professor Dumbledore. And above it all, the enchanted ceiling mirrored the night sky—a sea of swirling indigo and twinkling stars.
Ella felt a rush of heat to her cheeks as all eyes turned toward them. Her boots clicked quietly against the stone floor as she followed Professor McGonagall. At the front of the hall, atop a three-legged stool, sat a tattered old hat—the Sorting Hat.
Professor McGonagall motioned for the first years to stop and line up near the front.
“When I call your name, you will come forward, sit on the stool, and I will place the Sorting Hat on your head,” she announced. “It will decide your house.”
Ella's heart thudded in her chest like a drum. She shifted from foot to foot, the names of the houses spinning in her mind. Gryffindor… Ravenclaw… Hufflepuff… Slytherin…
What if she wasn’t good enough for any of them?
She caught sight of the two girls from the train, quiet and composed. One of them caught her eye and gave her a tiny, polite smile. Ella smiled back nervously.
The Sorting Hat suddenly sprang to life, its folds opening to form a mouth. It began to sing a strange, creaky song about the four founders and the traits they valued. Some of the older students hummed along under their breath, and a few clapped when the hat finished.
Then, the names began.
“Abbott, Amelia!”
A blond girl stepped forward, trembling. The hat barely touched her head before shouting, “HUFFLEPUFF!”
Cheers erupted from the yellow-and-black adorned table. And so it continued. Ella wrung her hands behind her back. Each time the Sorting Hat shouted out a name and a house, she imagined herself walking forward, tripping, and sitting down awkwardly…
The Sorting Hat seemed to take its time with each student, its voice carrying across the Great Hall, sometimes loud and confident, sometimes contemplative and slow. Every time it shouted a house, cheers erupted from one of the four long tables, and the newly sorted student would rush off, sometimes with a smile of relief, sometimes with nerves still trembling in their steps.
Ella stood toward the back of the group, her hands clenched behind her back, her pulse quickening each time another name was called. She wasn’t even sure why she felt so nervous. Maybe it was the sheer number of eyes watching them, or the echoing silence that followed each name. Maybe it was the pressure of knowing this one moment would shape the next seven years of her life.
She shifted on her feet, her throat dry. Names blurred in her ears.
And then—
"Ella Celestine!" Professor McGonagall called.
Ella blinked. A cold wave of nervous energy rushed down her spine. She took a deep breath, forcing her legs to move. The eyes of hundreds of students boring into her. Her boots felt heavier than they should as she walked through the aisle, the silence of the hall pressing against her from all sides. The walk to the stool felt endless.
She approached the stool and reached out with slightly trembling fingers to pick up the hat. The Sorting Hat looked even more worn up close, and patched, with frayed edges and deep folds that resembled a wrinkled face. She sat down, and before she could even settle fully, she placed the Sorting Hat atop her head. It dropped low over her eyebrows.
Silence.
For what felt like an eternity, the hat said nothing. The quiet stretched, thick and heavy, and Ella’s pulse roared in her ears.
Did it forget me? Am I not good enough for any house?
Then—
"Ah," murmured a voice, low and thoughtful, directly in her ear. "Now here’s a puzzle."
Ella nearly jumped.
"You’re a tricky one, Ella Celestine," the hat mused. "So many admirable qualities, yet none that clearly outshine the others. Where to put you?"
Ella swallowed hard. She hadn’t expected this. She’d assumed the hat would just know, that it would shout her house the second it touched her head like it had for others. Ella squeezed her eyes shut, trying to quiet her racing mind. What if I don’t belong anywhere?
The hat chuckled softly. "Oh, you belong somewhere. The question is—where will you thrive?"
And the longer it thought, the more the Great Hall’s murmurs grew. "Hmm. You're a tricky one, Ella," it said slowly, sounding almost amused. "You're not the first, of course. But it's rare. So many layers."
Ella blinked under the hat. “Layers?”
"Oh yes," the hat said, clearly enjoying itself now. "Bravery... oh, you’ve got that. Fierce when you need to be. Loyalty, yes... but guarded. And clever—yes, very clever. And a curious mind, too. You'd do well in Ravenclaw. But... there's more."
It paused again. Ella’s thoughts grew more frantic.
She had no idea where she wanted to go. She hadn’t spent years dreaming of a specific house like some students did. She hadn’t grown up hearing bedtime stories about the founders. She only knew what she had read and what little she’d been told. It all still felt like a storybook she had stumbled into by accident.
The hat hummed softly.
"You could thrive in many places. But what is it you want, hmm? That matters too. Do you want knowledge? Adventure? Acceptance? Power? Belonging?"
Ella’s breath caught. Belonging.
Her eyes fluttered open, she couldn't make out faces, but she knew where each table was. Her gaze drifted toward the Slytherin table—quite suddenly, her stomach gave a twist.
There they were. The only two people she'd spoken to since arriving in the wizarding world and out of the orphanage: Draco and Matthew.
They weren’t watching her intently like some of the others were. In fact, they were talking, looking relaxed and comfortable. Draco had that same smug confidence he’d worn at Diagon Alley, and Matthew sat with a coolness that seemed to come from deep certainty.
They knew who they were. They already belonged here.
Ella felt a sudden, aching need rise in her chest. She didn’t want to be alone in this castle. She had spent enough of her life feeling like that already.
Without even fully thinking it through, she whispered, barely audible, “Slytherin… I think I want to be in Slytherin.”
The hat paused.
"Ah... Slytherin." Its voice took on a curious note. "You believe it’s the right choice because of two boys you met in a shop, interesting... But is it truly where you belong?"
Ella bit her lip. Her mind was racing, but the truth was, she didn’t know. Not really. The hat continued, "You do possess the qualities—ambition, cleverness, a desire to prove yourself. But Slytherin is not chosen lightly. It is a house that demands much."
But she thought about what she saw in them—confidence, security, a sense of place. They seemed to know how this world worked, and she wanted to understand it too. She wanted to be something in this new life, not just the girl watching everyone else.
The hat seemed to sense her conviction tightening, even if it was rushed and tangled.
"You’re brave to choose your path this way," the hat mused. "Many qualities indeed—bravery, intelligence, a deep hunger to matter... but what stands out most is your ambition. And that quiet, calculating drive beneath the uncertainty. You’ll learn quickly, and I suspect you’ll surprise more than a few people."
The hat exhaled—a sound almost like a laugh.
"Very well. If you’re sure..."
Then, suddenly, the hat raised its voice for the entire hall to hear:
"Better be... SLYTHERIN!"
The last word rang out like thunder.
Cheers erupted from the Slytherin table. Ella pulled the hat off, blinking against the bright lights of the hall. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but a flush of warmth bloomed through her chest. She stood, her legs shaky but moving, and walked over to the green-and-silver table.
Draco smirked to Matthew as he said "Well. This’ll be interesting." As she approached, Draco smiled at her and leaned slightly to the side.
“Welcome to Slytherin,” he said, Matthew gave her a subtle nod—cool, distant, but not unfriendly.
Ella took a seat, her breath still shallow, her fingers trembling slightly. The green and silver banners above her seemed to shimmer more brightly now. She couldn’t tell if this was the right house for her, not yet—but it felt like a start. A place she could begin from.
She glanced once more across the Great Hall at the other tables. Hufflepuff looked warm and welcoming. Ravenclaw, curious and calm. Gryffindor, bold and burning with energy. But something about Slytherin’s cold elegance, called to a part of her she hadn’t yet named.
Maybe she hadn’t chosen it for the best reason. Maybe the Sorting Hat had been right to question her. But now that she was here…She was going to make it the right place.
She sat up straighter, her eyes narrowing just slightly as she looked toward the front of the hall.
She was a Slytherin now. And this was only the beginning.
As the Sorting Ceremony drew to a close, the final student had barely taken their seat when the great golden owl-shaped podium at the front of the hall rose slightly, signaling the attention of the entire room. A hush fell over the students as Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet, his long silver beard gleaming in the candlelight, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” he said warmly, his voice both gentle and commanding, echoing through the cavernous Great Hall. “Another year begins. I am sure you are all eager to dive into your studies, to explore the many secrets this castle has to offer… and I can assure you, there is no shortage of magic and wonder in these walls.”
Ella leaned forward slightly, hanging on to every word. “But before we send you all off to your beds and books,” Dumbledore continued, “let us first enjoy the start-of-term feast!”
With a dramatic wave of his wand, the long, empty tables—just moments ago polished and bare—suddenly burst into color and life. Platters of steaming food appeared with a shimmer of golden light: roast chicken with crispy skin, plump sausages, golden roast potatoes, fluffy Yorkshire puddings, and bowls overflowing with steamed vegetables. There were towers of crusty bread rolls and gravy boats that poured themselves if one so much as looked at them. Pitchers of pumpkin juice and silver goblets of cold water sparkled under the floating candles.
Ella’s eyes went wide, her mouth falling open in wonder.
She had never seen so much food in one place before—let alone food that magically appeared right before her. Her stomach let out a loud, ungraceful growl, which made one of the older Slytherin students beside her snicker under their breath, but she didn’t care. She was already reaching forward, shyly at first, then with growing excitement as she piled her plate high with roasted carrots, mashed potatoes, a bit of everything really.
Ella smiled down at her plate, her heart warm. The hum of hundreds of students chatting, laughing, and eating created a sort of cozy chaos. She didn’t feel like a stranger in someone else’s world. She was part of it now.
Around her, the Slytherin table buzzed with conversation. Older students exchanged summer stories, comparing new broom models and complaining about holiday assignments. A group of third-years debated the upcoming Quidditch season, while a pair of sixth-years whispered about something called "Apparition lessons."
As the feast carried on, desserts appeared with another flick of magic: treacle tarts, pumpkin pasties, chocolate éclairs, puddings of all kinds, and a particularly fluffy chocolate cake that Ella immediately claimed a slice of. By the end of the feast, her stomach was pleasantly full and her face was flushed from laughing at some ridiculous joke one of the older girls told at the table. She leaned back in her seat, hands resting on her full belly, eyes drifting up to the enchanted ceiling that mirrored the night sky—stars glittering above them like diamonds in ink.
I’m really here, she thought. I’m really at Hogwarts.
When the golden plates and goblets finally vanished with a soft pop of magic, the headmasters and prefects stood, gathering the first years to lead them to their common rooms. Ella rose with the rest of the Slytherin newcomers, her legs a little wobbly from all the excitement and food.
"First-years, follow us," the girl ordered. "Try to keep up."
The path to the dungeons was a labyrinth of torch-lit corridors, sloping staircases, and the occasional trick step that nearly sent Ella stumbling. The castle seemed alive—portraits whispered as they passed, suits of armor creaked, and once, a ghostly cat darted through a wall, its translucent tail flicking against Ella’s arm. She kept close to the middle of the group, her eyes wide, taking in everything. The air grew cooler, damper, as they descended.
After what felt like an endless maze, they stopped in front of what appeared to be a solid wall. There was no door, no handle, not even a seam to indicate an entrance.
The prefect, a tall sixth-year with sharp cheekbones and a cool voice, turned to face them. “Remember this. The entrance to the Slytherin common room is hidden. You need the password to get in. If you forget it, don’t expect someone to rescue you before morning.”
A couple of first years laughed nervously. “The password is Serpentine,” the prefect announced clearly. The girl turned, her smile razor-thin. "The password is Serpentine. Remember it—unless you fancy sleeping in the corridor."
At the word, the stones rippled, shifting apart to reveal a narrow archway, revealing a hidden staircase descending further into the depths of the castle.
Ella’s breath caught. She stepped inside with the others, the greenish light growing stronger the further down they went.
At the bottom of the stairs, the space opened into a breathtaking room.
The Slytherin common room was vast, with high ceilings and the dark, rough stone of the walls and ceiling is cold to the touch, the air is thick with the smell of pipe smoke and old books. The stone walls that gleamed with a soft, green hue from the light filtering in through the underwater windows.
Ella could see the murky outline of fish gliding past, their silver scales flickering like moonlight. The room was filled with dark leather chairs and long black-and-green sofas, all placed before a large fireplace where flames crackled warmly. The floor was covered with dark rugs, and carved serpentine statues curled around the edges of the room like silent guards.
Tapestries depicting the history of Slytherin house adorn the walls. In the shadows, you can make out the shapes of moving portraits, the subjects whispering and muttering to themselves. In the corner, a group of older students are huddled around a game of wizard's chess, their faces tense with concentration. Nearby, a younger student is sprawled on a sofa, sound asleep, with a book on her chest. Every so often, the door opens and a group of students enters, laughing and talking loudly.
Ella stood there for a moment, awestruck. She had imagined Hogwarts in so many ways, but this… this felt like something out of a dream. It was strange and elegant, slightly eerie but beautiful. She looked around, feeling a strange mix of emotions, nervous, excited and a little bit afraid.
"Boys’ dormitories to the left, girls’ to the right," the prefect announced. "Your trunks are already there. Curfew’s at nine for first-years—break it, and you’ll answer to me."
Ella followed the group into the girls' dormitory, decorated in shades of green and silver, with four-poster beds draped in silk curtains. The beds were made of dark wood, with green and silver bedding. Each bed had a small bedside table, and a wardrobe for storing clothes.
Ella ran her fingers over the thick comforter on her four-poster bed, marveling at how soft it was compared to the scratchy blankets at the orphanage. The curtains around the bed could be drawn for privacy—something she’d never had before.
Lucy, hopped up onto the bed her little black paws kneading the fabric experimentally. She sniffed the pillow, then turned in a slow circle before plopping down right in the center, as if claiming it for herself.
Ella laughed softly and scooped her up, cradling the kitten against her chest. "You like it here, don’t you?" Ella murmured, scratching under Lucy’s chin. The kitten responded by butting her head against Ella’s hand, her purrs growing louder.
A rustling sound came from the next bed over. Ella turned to see a girl with wavy black hair and dark blue eyes watching them with a small smile.
"Hi," Ella said, suddenly feeling a little shy. "I’m Ella, and this is Lucy."
The girl’s smile widened. "I’m Nancy. It’s nice to meet you both." She reached out a hand, and Lucy, ever the social butterfly, stretched her neck to sniff Nancy’s fingers before allowing a gentle scratch behind her ears.
"She’s adorable," Nancy said, her voice warm. “I wish I’d brought a pet. I almost chose a cat, but my mum’s allergic." Ella grinned. "You can play with Lucy anytime. She loves attention."
Nancy laughed, and Ella felt a flicker of relief. Making friends was impassible at the orphanage—most of the kids had either ignored her or teased her for her endless questions. But Nancy seemed different. There was a quiet kindness in her eyes that put Ella at ease.
“I think we got lucky,” Nancy murmured, lying back onto her bed and sighing. Ella nodded, stroking Lucy’s soft fur. “Yeah...”
A quiet pause fell between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was calm—settled. Ella laid back against her pillows.
She stared up at the canopy of her bed, emerald fabric draped above like the folds of a regal cloak, and whispered, more to herself than anyone, “I think I’m really going to love it here.”
Nancy yawned beside her. “Me too.”
And just like that, the gentle hum of the lake lulled them into a peaceful silence, Ella felt Lucy’s warm weight against her side. Ella felt a quiet happiness blossom inside her. She was at Hogwarts. She had a new bed, a new friend.
The next morning, Ella woke not to sunlight but to an eerie green glow, the filtered illumination that came through the thick glass windows looking into the depths of the Black Lake. Strange shadows of aquatic plants and occasional fish drifted past the windows, creating ever-shifting patterns on the stone walls.
It was the strange and haunting glow of the Black Lake above them, casting dancing patterns across the dormitory. It felt quiet and secretive, like the underwater world they were truly part of now. She opened her eyes to find Lucy perched on her chest, who let out a cheerful purr the moment their eyes met.
Ella chuckled sleepily, rubbing her eyes. “Good morning, Lucy,” she whispered. From the bed beside her, a voice chimed in.
"Morning, sleepyhead." Ella turned her head to see Nancy already sitting upright she looked fresh and alert, her thick waves of black hair falling effortlessly over her shoulders. She was already dressed in her Slytherin robes. "Good morning," Ella replied, stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied sigh. "Did you sleep well?"
Nancy grinned. "Like a log. These beds are way better than the one I have at home." Ella couldn’t help but agree. A far cry from the thin, lumpy cot she’d slept on at the orphanage, the Slytherin dormitory beds felt like sleeping on clouds.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for her neatly folded robes. Holding it in her hands, she paused in front of the mirror. The water’s glow made her skin look even paler, her short, black hair glossy and sleek as it framed her face. She picked up the green and silver tie next, fumbling slightly as she looped it around her neck.
"Need help with that?" Nancy offered, already stepping closer.
"Thanks," Ella said, letting Nancy adjust the tie.
She straightened the pin until it was perfectly in place, then took a step back to admire her reflection in the mirror, Her green eyes seemed to sparkle even more brightly against the black of her robe. The contrast between the two colors made her eyes seem brighter and more vibrant, and she felt a sense of pride in her green eyes, she liked the idea of being easily recognizable as a Slytherin.
Nancy joined her by the mirror, smoothing her robe. “You look awesome,” she said with a grin. “That green really makes your eyes pop.” Ella smiled, her nerves settling under the weight of excitement.
"Ready for our first real day?" Nancy asked, picking up her bag. "More than ready," she replied. The two of them headed out of the dormitory together, Lucy trotting happily behind them.
The Slytherin common room was quieter now, a few older students still lounging near the fireplace or gathering up their belongings for the day. She glanced around, looking for Draco or Matthew, but neither boy was there.
“They must’ve gone ahead,” she murmured to herself. They walked together through the twisting hallways of Hogwarts, students hurrying in every direction, portraits calling out greetings, and the occasional ghost drifting through walls with a chilly gust of air.
"So, what classes are you most excited for?" Nancy asked as they passed a particularly grumpy-looking suit of armor. Ella didn’t even hesitate. "Charms and Herbology. You?"
"Flying, definitely," Nancy said, her eyes lighting up. "My father is a huge Quidditch fan. He’s been teaching me since I was six." Ella’s eyebrows shot up. "You’ve been flying since you were six?"
Nancy grinned. “Maybe I’ll even try out for the team one day." Ella smiled and said. "Well, you’re already ahead of me."
By the time they reached the Great Hall, the delicious smell of breakfast wafted through the enormous oak doors. The scent of breakfast washed over them—crispy bacon, buttery pancakes, warm maple syrup, and the rich aroma of freshly baked bread. Ella’s stomach growled loudly, and Nancy burst into laughter.
“I’m starving!” Ella declared dramatically, making them both laugh. They entered the Great Hall together, and Ella couldn’t help but slow her steps to take in the sight. Morning had arrived in full inside the enchanted ceiling—soft clouds drifting lazily across a pale blue sky. The long tables of each House stretched down the length of the room, with students already chatting and enjoying their meals. The golden plates and goblets sparkled in the sunlight from the ceiling, making the whole room feel warm and grand.
At the staff table, Dumbledore was deep in conversation with Professor McGonagall, while Snape glowered into his goblet as usual.
Ella spotted Draco and Matthew near the far end of the Slytherin table, already digging into their meals. Draco glanced up as they approached, giving Ella a brief nod before returning to his conversation with a group of second-years. But her hunger quickly distracted her from them. “This is better than I imagined,” Ella said around a bite of pancake, her eyes wide with delight. Nancy, meanwhile, went straight for the sausages and toast.
Between bites, Nancy pulled out her schedule, scanning it eagerly. "Looks like we’ve got Charms first with the Ravenclaws, then Potions—ugh, double period with Gryffindor."
They talked more as they ate—about Astronomy and how strange it would be to have class at night, about Transfiguration and the idea of turning objects into something entirely new, about Defense Against the Dark Arts and what kind of spells they might learn to protect themselves.
By the time Ella and Nancy had finished eating, the Great Hall was alive with morning excitement. Conversations buzzed from every corner of the four long tables, and the sound of wings flapping echoed above as owls soared down from the enchanted ceiling.
Letters and small parcels rained down like fluttering snow, landing in front of eager students. Ella watched with wide, curious eyes as a barn owl dropped a scroll of parchment in front of a Ravenclaw first year, and a snowy owl swooped low above the Slytherin table, its wings catching the golden sunlight spilling from the enchanted ceiling.
“Come on,” Nancy said, nudging Ella with her elbow. “We don’t want to be late to our very first Charms class!”
Together, they gathered their bags and made their way out of the hall, blending into the stream of students navigating the wide, castle corridors. “Charms is going to be so fun,” Ella said, hugging her books close to her chest. “I read that Professor Flitwick used to be a dueling champion!”
Nancy grinned. “That tiny guy? I bet he’s full of surprises.”
They finally arrived at the Charms classroom, where desks were already neatly arranged in rows. Candles hovered overhead, casting a gentle golden glow across the polished wood surfaces. Professor Flitwick, the Charms master, stood at the front of the classroom on top of a large stack of books behind his desk so that he could see his students properly.
He was an exceedingly small wizard with a tuft of white hair, dressed in bright green robes that shimmered slightly as he moved. His round face split into a warm, enthusiastic smile as the students entered.
"Welcome, welcome to your first Charms lesson!" he chirped, his voice as high and lively as a songbird’s. "Today, we begin with one of the most fundamental spells in a wizard’s repertoire—the Levitation Charm, or Wingardium Leviosa!"
He raised his wand and gave it a small flourish — a graceful swish and flick — and the feather in front of him immediately lifted off the table, hovering gently in the air. He turned it lazily in a circle before guiding it down with perfect control.
Gasps and excited whispers filled the room. Ella was completely enthralled. Her eyes sparkled with wonder as she watched the feather spin midair. “That’s amazing,” she whispered to Nancy, unable to tear her gaze away.
Professor Flitwick gestured to the classroom. “Now it’s your turn! Remember — swish and flick. Enunciate clearly: Win-GAR-dium Levi-O-sa.”
Ella rolled up her sleeves, heart pounding with excitement. Her feather lay motionless on the desk in front of her. She took a deep breath, pointed her wand, and gave it her best try.
“Wingardium Leviosa!” she said firmly.
Nothing happened.
She frowned, adjusted her grip, and tried again — this time slower, more deliberate.
“Wingardium Leviosa.”
Still, the feather remained unmoved, as if mocking her.
She frowned, glancing around. Nancy had already managed to make her feather wobble a few inches off the table. Okay, focus. She tried again.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Still nothing.
Her cheeks warmed as frustration prickled under her skin. Ella repeated the spell again and again, each attempt more forceful than the last.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Nothing.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Nothing.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Nothing.
Her wrist ached from the exaggerated swishes, and her voice grew hoarse. The feather remained stubbornly, infuriatingly still.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nancy’s feather now floating effortlessly, bobbing in the air like a leaf on a breeze. A pang of jealousy shot through her, sharp and unexpected.
Why can’t I do this? Nancy caught her eye and gave her a sympathetic smile. "Need help?" she whispered. Ella hesitated, cheeks flushing with embarrassment, but nodded. “Please.”
Nancy patiently demonstrated the motion again, her wrist flicking with a smooth, practiced movement. “It’s all in the wrist,” she explained. “And you’ve got to really believe it’s going to work. Imagine it rising. Picture it floating.”
Ella took a breath and tried again, mimicking Nancy’s wrist movement exactly. “Wingardium Leviosa.”
The feather twitched. Just barely. But enough to make Ella’s breath catch in her throat.
“I saw that!” Nancy said. “It moved!” But the next try? Nothing.
"Ah! A bit of trouble?" Ella nodded, her throat tight.
"No need to fret!" he said kindly. "Charms is as much about patience as it is about precision. Some spells take time to click. May I?” He adjusted her grip on the wand slightly.
"Looser wrist, dear girl! Magic prefers elegance over force." Ella tried to relax, but the weight of her failure pressed down on her. Flitwick patted her shoulder. "Try again when you’re ready. And remember—every great witch started exactly where you are now."
With that, he toddled off to assist another struggling student. As he moved on to the next student, Ella sighed. Her eyes drifted toward Nancy, whose feather was now drifting in lazy circles above her desk.
Ella slumped forward. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” she muttered, feeling the pressure of failure settle heavily in her chest. She looked the class around her was filled with delighted gasps and a few rogue feathers bumping into each other midair.
Her wrist ached slightly from how many times she had swished and flicked. She looked down at her wand, thinking hard. Then, slowly, she moved it from her right hand into her left, maybe—just maybe—it would make a difference.
The maple wood felt unfamiliar at first, the balance different in her hand. Closing her eyes, she focused on the memory of Professor Flitwick's demonstration - the precise swish and flick, the musical lilt of the incantation.
"Wingardium Leviosa." Her movement was slower this time, more deliberate. The wand tip traced a careful arc through the air. The feather twitched. Then, it lifted - wobbling at first, then steadying as it rose a full foot above the desk.
"I did it!" Ella gasped, her emerald eyes wide with wonder. The feather drifted gently, responding to the subtle movements of her wand.
Nancy's head whipped around. "Merlin's beard! You're ambidextrous?" Ella nodded, a proud smile tugging at her lips. "I can use both hands."
"That's incredible!" Nancy leaned closer. "Most wizards struggle with their dominant hand, let alone both. That could be really useful someday."
The praise warmed Ella more than she expected. She carefully lowered the feather back to the desk before explaining, "When I was little, at my first orphanage, there was a boy named Tim. We used to compete at everything - who could tie their shoes fastest, who could eat faster, or run faster."
She twirled her wand absently between her fingers. "When we learned to write, Tim started practicing with both hands. He mastered it before me and never let me forget it." A shadow crossed her face briefly before she brightened. "When I found out I was magical, I moved to the other orphanage and, I had loads of free time. So I kept practicing with both hands again. Guess it paid off."
Nancy grinned. "That's brilliant! I can barely write legibly with my dominant hand, let alone..."
Their conversation was interrupted as Professor Flitwick clapped his hands. "Excellent work, class! Five points to Slytherin for Ella creative problem-solving!"
Ella's cheeks flushed with pride as she carefully tucked her wand away. Ella’s triumphant smile faded the moment she noticed the silence around her. The other first-year Slytherins—students she had just begun to recognize—were staring at her with expressions ranging from surprise to discomfort.
"You’re an orphan?"
The question came from a boy with slicked-back black hair, one of the pureblood Slytherins who had been friendly enough at breakfast. Now, his nose wrinkled slightly, as if he’d smelled something unpleasant.
Ella’s stomach dropped. She had been so caught up in her excitement over mastering the spell with her left hand that she hadn’t even considered how her casual mention of the orphanage would land.
"Yeah," she said, forcing her voice steady. The reactions were immediate.
A girl with pin-straight blonde hair, the first-year who had already boasted about her family’s connections to the Ministry—leaned away from Ella, as if she might catch something.
"So… you don’t have any wizarding family at all?" she asked, her tone laced with disbelief.
Ella clenched her jaw. "No." A murmur rippled through the group.
She heard from her left—two girls whispering behind their hands.
“Did she say she’s an orphan?”
“I thought she came from a pure-blood family. Ugh, maybe that was just a rumor.”Ella stiffened. She could feel the shift in the room, subtle but sharp, like a crack spreading through glass.
Ella sat very still. Her wand was clutched in her left hand, but it trembled now. Her stomach twisted painfully, and her throat tightened with the effort it took not to cry. She kept her eyes fixed on her feather, willing herself not to listen. Not to feel.
She’d been so proud. So happy. Just for a moment.
And now? She felt naked. Exposed.
Nancy leaned closer, her voice sharp with anger. “Ignore them. They’re idiots.”
But Ella didn’t answer. Her jaw was clenched, her fingers pale around the wand in her hand. She wanted to vanish. Sink into the stone floor and disappear.
The rest of the lesson passed in a blur.
Ella went through the motions—raising her wand, reciting the incantation, even managing to levitate the feather again—but her heart wasn’t in it. Every laugh, every whisper, every sideways glance felt like a needle prick against her skin.
When the bell finally rang, she bolted from her seat, shoving her books into her bag with jerky movements.
Nancy caught her arm. "Ella, wait—"
"I’m fine," Ella lied, her voice brittle.
She’d been naive. She’d thought—hoped—that Hogwarts would be different. That magic would erase the stigma of her past. But Slytherin was a house built on bloodlines and legacy, and she had neither.
Whispers had followed Ella like shadows since Charms class, as she and Nancy made their way to the dungeons, each sidelong glance from her housemates like a fresh cut.
“Hey.” A tall boy in green-trimmed robes stood a few feet away, his pale eyes narrowed slightly in a way that made her stomach knot. Marcus. A Slytherin she had barely spoken to.
“I hear you’re an orphan,” he said, casually, as if commenting on the weather.
Ella froze. Her grip on her bag tightened instinctively.
“Yes,” she said, keeping her voice steady. Marcus raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling on his lips. "Tell me, how does it feel to be the charity case of Slytherin?"
The words struck like a whip. Ella felt her face grow hot, her pulse pounding in her ears.
"And a Muggle-born at that," Marcus continued, his lip curling.
"I don't know if I'm Muggle-born," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady despite the tremor beneath it. "I grew up in the Muggle world, but I don’t know who my parents were. For all I know, they could have been magical."
Marcus barked a laugh. "Oh, that’s rich. You’re clinging to hope now?" He leaned in, his breath hot against her face. "Let me make it simple for you. No family? No name? That makes you nothing in Slytherin. Just a stray Dumbledore took pity on."
Ella’s vision blurred—not from tears, but from a sudden, scalding fury.
"I am just as much a part of this school as you are," she snapped, her voice quivering with suppressed rage.
Marcus snorted, turning away dismissively. "Good luck with that."
For a moment, Ella couldn’t move. The injustice of it burned through her—the way he had dismissed her, as if her worth could be measured by a name she didn’t even have.
Nancy squeezed Ella’s arm. "You okay?"
Ella exhaled shakily, her eyes wide and wet with unshed tears. “Why would he say that?” she whispered. “It’s not just him, they all think I don’t belong here."
Nancy looked angry. “Because some people like him think blood status makes them special.”
Ella shook her head, blinking rapidly. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be born in a Muggle world, to grow up in an orphanage. I didn’t even know I was magical.” Her voice cracked.
Nancy’s expression softened. "Then prove them wrong." She hesitated, then added, "And for what it’s worth? I’m a half-blood."
Ella blinked, startled. "You are?"
Nancy smiled softly. “My dad’s a Muggle. My mum’s a witch.” Ella exhaled shakily, looking down at their clasped hands. "Thank you, Nancy," she murmured. Nancy grinned and gave her hand a final squeeze before releasing it. "Come on. We’ve got Potions, and I refuse to let Flint ruin our day."
The Potions classroom was a cavernous space, the stone walls of the dungeons always felt colder than the rest of the castle, the air was thick with the scent of dried herbs, bitter roots. Ella’s nerves were still frayed from the encounter with Marcus. She sat down at one of the tables near the middle of the room, pulling her book from her bag with a heavy sigh. Nancy took the seat beside her, offering a brief, reassuring glance.
The door at the front of the classroom opened with a long creak, followed by the sharp click of hard-soled shoes against stone.
Professor Snape swept into the room like a living shadow — tall, pale, and draped in inky-black robes. His hooked nose and gaunt face made him look perpetually displeased, and his eyes surveyed the classroom like a hawk about to strike. The room fell silent in an instant.
“Books open. Quills down,” he said coldly. “Today, you will be brewing Claritas Mentis — a potion to clear the mind and sharpen the senses. I expect every vial to be bottled and labeled properly by the end of the period. Instructions are on the board. Begin.”
He didn’t waste time with pleasantries, Ella swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around her quill. She had heard the rumors about Snape—his favoritism toward Slytherins, his merciless disdain for mistakes.
The chalk began scribbling instructions across the blackboard in flowing cursive, directed by Snape’s wand. As continued his instructions, Ella couldn’t help but notice she and Snape had almost the same haircut. Both had the same short, straight black hair—though Snape’s hung lank and greasy, while hers was smooth and neatly combed. She wondered, briefly, if he had noticed it too. The similarity made her lips twitch in an almost-smile —probably not. And if he did, he’d probably deduct points for it.
Ella and Nancy set up their cauldron at a table near the back, carefully arranging their ingredients. Ella’s hands were steady as she worked, her focus absolute. She measured the hellebore with painstaking care, counting each drop as it fell into the cauldron. The potion shimmered, shifting from clear to a pale, luminous blue as the moonstone dissolved.
For a moment, she allowed herself a small smile. It’s working. In her eagerness to move to the next step, she grabbed the small container of wolfsbane and added what she thought was the correct amount. The reaction was immediate.
The potion hissed violently, bubbling up like a geyser before collapsing into a murky, sickly green sludge. A foul odor—like rotting eggs and burnt hair—filled the air, making several students gag. “No, no, no,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sudden murmurs of the class, flipping back to the instructions.
The whispers stopped, a chilling silence fell over the room. She didn’t need to turn around to know he was there.
"Miss Ella." Snape’s voice was like ice. Ella turned slowly, "Tell me," he said, his tone deceptively calm, "did you intend to brew a potion that smells like the contents of a troll’s nostril? Or was this a happy accident?" A few Slytherins snickered. Ella’s nails dug into her palms.
"I—I added too much wolfsbane," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Snape’s lip curled. "Astute observation. Five points from Slytherin for your remarkable lack of attention."
"It was a mistake," she said, her voice trembling with suppressed frustration. "I’ll start over—"
"You will do no such thing," Snape interrupted coldly. "The ingredients are precisely measured for one attempt. Your carelessness has cost you the opportunity to succeed."
His dark eyes bore into hers. "Perhaps next time, you will think before you act."
With that, he swept away, Ella stood frozen, her chest tight with a mix of shame and anger.
Nancy leaned over, her voice low. "Ignore him. He’s like this with everyone." She glanced down at her ruined potion, the green sludge now congealing into something truly revolting. As the rest of the class worked, she sat down slowly, trying to breathe through the scent of failure that still rose from her cauldron.
She glanced up at Snape once more — and for the briefest second, she thought she saw him glance back at her. But his face remained impassive, carved from stone. Ella blinked, unsure if she had imagined it. Maybe she had.
She dipped her quill in ink and started to copy the instructions down again in her notebook. The moment they stepped out of the dungeons, Ella exhaled sharply, as if she’d been holding her breath the entire Potions class. The stone corridors of Hogwarts felt lighter up here, away from Snape’s oppressive presence and the lingering stench of her failed potion.
"Merlin’s beard, what is wrong with him?" Nancy muttered, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I get that he’s strict, but that was just cruel.
Ella rubbed her temples, her fingers still faintly smelling of wolfsbane. "I don’t know. It’s like he wanted me to mess up."
Nancy scoffed. "He’s like that with everyone who isn’t a Slytherin—and even then, only if he likes you." She paused, then added, "Which, apparently, he doesn’t."
Ella groaned. "Brilliant. Just what I needed. Is he like that? It's like he wants us to fail. Like he enjoys it." Nancy gave a small, dry laugh. "He probably does. His whole personality at this point — cold, bitter, mysterious… and probably never hugged as a child."
They turned the corner, still deep in discussion about Snape’s inexplicable disdain, when— Wham.
Ella stumbled back as two figures barreled into them, their momentum sending her shoulder crashing into the stone wall. One of them with messy black hair and glasses, the other, slightly taller with red hair and a long stride, followed close behind. They didn’t look up. Didn’t say a word. Just kept walking and talking amongst themselves, deep in a conversation that neither Nancy nor Ella could hear.
Nancy stopped abruptly and spun around, eyes wide.
"No way!" she whispered, grabbing Ella’s sleeve. "That is Harry Potter."
Ella blinked. "What?"
Nancy leaned in, voice hushed but electric with disbelief. "You’re telling me you just bumped shoulders with Harry Potter and didn’t even notice? That’s him. The hair, the scar, the glasses, everything."
Ella twisted slightly to glance back. The boy’s figure was receding down the hall, but his distinctive black hair — untamed and a little wild — stood out even from behind.
"You’re sure that’s him?" Ella asked, her voice almost skeptical. She'd read the name, of course. Everyone had. But she'd always pictured him as… taller. Older. More like a legend than a real boy with a bag and untied shoelaces.
"Absolutely," Nancy said with conviction. "I’ve read about him. I mean — come on, he’s basically the face of the wizarding world. He’s the one who—"
"Is it true what I read about him?" Ella interrupted softly, her curiosity finally bubbling to the surface. "That he defeated…?"
Nancy nodded before Ella could finish.
"It’s true. For defeating You-Know-Who. When he was just a baby. That’s why everyone knows his name."
Ella’s eyes widened slightly. Her mind reeled with the weight of it. So that was him? The boy who had survived the curse that no one else ever had. The boy with the lightning scar. And yet…
"He didn’t even say sorry," Ella muttered, a bit confused. "He bumped into me. Just… kept walking. That was…Rude?"
Nancy shrugged. "Maybe he’s got other things on his mind. Or maybe he’s just rude."
Ella turned her attention to the red-haired boy walking beside Harry. There was something familiar about him — not his face necessarily, but the details. The red hair. The freckles across the bridge of his nose. The way his voice sounded vaguely like a boy she’d seen laughing with a group of siblings at the train station on her first day.
"That boy," she said, nudging Nancy. "I think I saw him with his family. There were loads of them at King’s Cross. Red hair everywhere. That must be his brother or something."
"Probably," Nancy agreed. "They’re called the Weasleys, I think. Massive family. I heard they’ve got like seven kids or something — all redheads, all in Gryffindor."
Ella was quiet for a while after that. She hadn’t expected her first brush with Harry Potter to feel so… ordinary.
As the last class of the day ended, Ella could feel the exhaustion settle into her limbs like lead. Her back ached from sitting upright for hours, her fingers were smudged with ink, and her brain felt full to the brim — and not just with facts or spells, but thoughts. Half-formed questions, flashes of faces, and the growing, inescapable sense that the wizarding world was far more complicated.
She and Nancy slowly made their way toward the Great Hall, following the stream of students that filled the corridors with tired chatter and laughter. “I feel like I haven’t eaten in years,” Nancy groaned dramatically, tossing her head back. “Same,” Ella murmured, her voice a bit hoarse.
As they walked over to the Slytherin table, Ella couldn’t help but notice the empty seats around them—more than usual. A few first-years who had been friendly earlier now sat farther down the table, their laughter a little too loud, their eyes darting away whenever she glanced in their direction.
Are they avoiding me?
Ella pushed it away with a quiet breath. No. She had no time to care what they thought — not tonight. She was tired, starving, and most of all, just grateful to be sitting beside Nancy, who was fast becoming the one person at Hogwarts she could truly count on.
They slid into their seats, her eyes drifted automatically across the room. Landing on a group of boys at the far end of the Slytherin table. Draco, Matthew, and two boys she didn’t recognize.
The first was impossible to miss. Tall and broad-shouldered, high cheekbones and a strong jaw, he carried himself with the effortless confidence of someone who had never questioned his place in the world. His dark green eyes swept the room like a hawk surveying its territory, sharp and calculating. Rich brown hair fell in loose waves, fell effortlessly just above his brows.
Next to him was another boy, almost the opposite in demeanor. He had a kind, approachable face with wide-set brown eyes that sparkled with warmth. His hair was neatly combed back, and there was something calming about him — the kind of person who made people feel safe just by being near. As he laughed at something Matthew said, Ella caught a glimpse of his smile. It was genuine, bright, and it practically lit up the space around him.
Ella’s gaze lingered on them for a second longer than she meant to. These weren’t the average loud Slytherin boys that strutted through the corridors; there was something about them, as if they were used to holding things others couldn’t see.
The first boy — the one with the green eyes — suddenly glanced in her direction, and Ella’s breathe caught. His gaze was intense, almost clinical, like he was reading her rather than seeing her. She quickly looked away, feeling a slight heat rise in her cheeks. Her fingers tightened around her fork. Why was he looking at me like that?
She tried to brush off the feeling, turning her attention back to Nancy, who was enthusiastically spooning mashed potatoes onto her plate. But even as she reached for the roasted chicken, Ella could feel his gaze again. Not constant — just lingering. Like a puzzle he hadn’t quite figured out.
She risked another glance—just in time to see Matthew lean over, whispering something to the group. The first boy’s gaze flicked back to her, his expression unreadable.
But the discomfort had already settled into Ella’s stomach. She didn’t want to feel like she was being observed — analyzed like a subject in a textbook. All she wanted was to enjoy her meal and forget the weight of the day.
Then Draco caught her eye. To her surprise, he offered a small, almost conspiratorial smile before turning back to the conversation. It was the tiniest of gestures, but it sent a rush of warmth through her.At least someone doesn’t hate me.
Beside him, the second boy — the kind one — laughed again at something. Ella liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the way his whole face lit up when he smiled. He seemed like the sort of person who would always remember your name. The kind of friend who noticed when you were feeling off, even if you didn’t say a word.
Ella’s stomach rumbled audibly, pulling her out of her thoughts. She turned her attention to the food laid out in front of her, her eyes widening. The house-elves had outdone themselves tonight. She eagerly filled her plate, her hunger finally overtaking her nerves.
It was warm, comforting — the clink of cutlery, the hum of conversation, the soft crackling of the enchanted ceiling’s clouds. Even with everything that had happened that day — the stares, the stumbles, the odd glances and unanswered questions — this moment felt like a small kind of peace.
Ella and Nancy hurried back to the Slytherin common room, their minds still reeling from the events of the evening. They were both exhausted, but they couldn't stop talking about everything that had happened. As they passed the last torch and reached the smooth, damp stones of the Slytherin entrance, the common room was warm and dimly lit.
A few students were still lingering, murmuring over textbooks or half-heartedly playing wizard chess, but most had already turned in for the night. Ella slipped out of her uniform and into her favorite oversized jumper then crawled under the blanket, careful not to disturb Lucy too much. The events of the day had been strange and chaotic, but now, she felt safe and secure in her own bed, with Lucy sleeping peacefully nearby. She let her thoughts drift away, and soon, she was fast asleep.
She woke the next morning feeling refreshed and invigorated. As she sat up in bed, she saw Lucy stretching and yawning beside her. "Good morning, Lucy," she said, smiling. Lucy meowed in response, her tail swishing back and forth.
While waiting for Nancy, Ella glanced around the Slytherin common room, taking in the familiar details she’d come to know so well—the green and silver tapestries, the flickering fireplace, the soft leather couches. It felt like home now.
Finally, Nancy bounded down the stairs, bright-eyed and excited. "Good morning!" she chirped, her voice brimming with energy.
The two made their way to class, chatting and laughing as they went. They slipped into their seats just as the bell rang, ready for the day’s lessons. The morning passed swiftly, and soon it was time for lunch. In the Great Hall, they grabbed sandwiches and claimed a table, joined by a few friends as they enjoyed a leisurely meal.
Afterward, they headed to the library, to do their homework. Settling at a table surrounded by towering bookshelves, they spread out their books and began working—though focus proved difficult. The library hummed with rustling pages, murmured conversations, and the occasional clack of typewriters. Ella’s gaze wandered, absorbing the room’s cozy details: the tall arched windows, the warm lamplight, the comforting scent of old paper. Her eyelids grew heavy.
"Ella?" Nancy’s voice cut through her drowsiness. "Are you falling asleep?"
Ella jerked upright. "No!" she blurted, then winced at her own volume. Lowering her voice, she added, "I’m totally awake," and shot Nancy a sheepish grin.
Forcing herself to refocus, she flipped a page in her book, tucked into the margin was a tiny, hand-drawn doodle of a cat curled on a windowsill. Nearly hidden, it made her smile instantly. It reminded her of Lucy, and a sudden warmth surged in her chest.
The hours flew by, and before they knew it, dinner beckoned. Ella and Nancy packed their things and hurried to the Great Hall, stomachs growling. At their usual table, they devoured their meals, swapping stories about classes, sharing gossip, and laughing until their sides ached. It was the perfect end to the day.
After dinner, Ella and Nancy trudged back to the Slytherin common room, their limbs heavy with exhaustion but their hearts light from the day’s laughter. Collapsing onto the nearest sofa, Ella let out a contented sigh, sinking into the cushions. Nancy flopped down beside her, pulling a copy of Potion-Making from her bag.
For a while, they read in comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional remark or shared joke. The stress of classes and homework melted away in the warmth of the fire and the quiet hum of the lake’s water pressing against the windows.
But as the hours slipped by, Ella’s eyelids grew heavy. She caught herself nodding off mid-sentence, her book slipping from her fingers. Nancy, too, was stifling yawns, her words slurring with fatigue.
“We should probably sleep,” Nancy mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
Ella agreed, and they dragged themselves up the spiral staircase to their dormitory. The other Slytherin girls were already asleep, their curtains drawn around. Ella changed into her softest pajamas and brushed her teeth, the cold water sharpening her senses for just a moment before exhaustion pulled at her again.
“G’night, Ella,” Nancy murmured, already half-buried under her blanket.
“Night, Nancy,” Ella whispered back before climbing into her own bed, sleep claimed her almost instantly.
At first, her dreams were blissful—vivid flashes of soaring through twilight skies on the back of a great, shimmering dragon. The wind rushed through her hair as she laughed, weightless and free. Below her, Hogwarts sprawled like a storybook castle, its turrets glowing under the moon.
But then—A sudden, icy dread seeped into the dream. The sky darkened. The dragon beneath her let out a piercing shriek and dissolved into smoke, and Ella was falling, falling—
She landed not on the ground, but in the nightmare.
The same one that had haunted her for years.
The air was thick and heavy, pressing against her lungs like a physical weight. Run.
Her instincts screamed at her to move, but her feet were rooted in place, as if stuck in deep, clinging mud. Shadows pooled at the edges of her vision, whispering things she couldn’t quite hear—things that made her skin crawl.
“No…” she tried to say, but her voice was gone, stolen by the suffocating dark.
Ella’s breath came in short, panicked gasps. She had to run. She had to scream—With a jolt, her eyes flew open.
She was back in her bed, the Slytherin dormitory silent except for the steady breathing of her sleeping roommates. Her heart hammered against her ribs as if trying to escape her chest. Cold sweat clung to her skin, her fingers trembling where they clutched the sheets.
Just a dream. Just a dream.
She turned her head toward Nancy’s bed, where her friend lay curled under her blankets, her breathing slow and even. The sight grounded Ella—she wasn’t alone.
Ella squeezed her eyes shut, willing the remnants of the nightmare to fade, but the images clung to her mind like cobwebs. The oppressive darkness, the whispers, the paralyzing fear—it all lingered.
Yet sleep felt impossible now.
Carefully, she slipped out of bed, grabbed her frog plushie and tiptoed past the other sleeping girls, easing the door open just enough to slip through.
The common room was empty, the fire reduced to glowing embers. The greenish light from the lake outside cast eerie ripples across the ceiling, making the shadows sway like underwater ghosts. Ella sat down slowly on the windowsill, pulling her legs up and hugging her knees tight to her chest, watching the giant squid drift lazily past, its tentacles stirring the water in slow, hypnotic motions.
She wished she could see the stars their distant, constant light always soothed her, no matter what happened, they were there. But in the dungeons, deep beneath the earth, the stars didn’t exist. Only the lake.
She hated this. Hated how the nightmare always left her feeling small and fragile, like a child afraid of the dark. “It’s not real,” she whispered to herself, but the words sounded hollow in the vast, silent room.
Every time she thought she had moved past it, it clawed its way back in. She let out a shaky breath, and leaned against the cold glass, She wondered what if she had a mother would say if she saw her like this. Or a father. Would they be proud that she was strong enough to come here alone? Or would they think her weak for still dreaming of shadows and holding onto a toy?
The lake moved lazily, indifferent to her sorrow. The stars were still there. She just couldn’t see them from here. But the lake’s surface was an impenetrable veil tonight. Still, the gentle sway of the water was calming, and she felt her breathing begin to steady.
Her eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion of the day pulling her under—
Click.
Ella’s body tensed instinctively, her grip tightening on her plushie. Her eyes flew open, breath caught in her throat. At first, she didn’t move. She stayed frozen on the windowsill, every muscle taut as her ears strained for the sound again.
She turned her head slowly toward the common room’s arched entrance, where the faintest movement caught her eye. A figure had appeared, just past the flickering shadows of the fireplace. She couldn’t see the face, but the light picked up the unmistakable glint of platinum blond hair.
Draco.
He moved like smoke through the darkened common room, his polished shoes making no sound on the stone floor. Her chest tightened. A dozen questions rushed to the front of her mind—Where was he going? Why at this hour? Was he okay?—but none of them made it to her lips. He didn’t see her. He didn’t pause.
Without thinking, Ella slipped from the windowsill, landing with the softness of someone used to sneaking out. She tucked her plushie under one arm, and tiptoed toward the edge of the room, keeping to the darkest corners.
This is stupid.
She shouldn’t follow him.
This is dangerous.
But the nightmare still clung to the edges of her mind, and the thought of sitting alone with her thoughts was worse than any consequence.
She waited until he had turned down the corridor, his figure swallowed by the gloom, before slipping out of the common room door. The stone wall sealed behind her, muffling the sound of the fire.
She padded after him, careful to keep her slippers from making a sound. The dungeon corridors were cold and mostly deserted at this hour. The only sounds were the occasional drip of water echoing in the distance.
Draco walked unaware of the her trailing silently behind him. Ella kept her distance, never letting herself get too close. She moved like a shadow, using every alcove and corner to her advantage. Whenever he paused, she pressed herself against the wall, breath shallow, heart thundering. She counted the seconds until he moved again.
Every time he glanced back—once or twice, as if double-checking something—she ducked quickly out of sight, her pulse spiking in her throat.
Don’t look back. Don’t look back.
Draco spun on his heel so abruptly that Ella nearly collided with him. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing with irritation.
Ella stopped in her tracks, heart hammering against her ribs. She felt the color rise to her cheeks, as if she’d been caught stealing. She clutched her frog plushie a little tighter.
“I… I just wanted…,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Draco scoffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t have time for this,” he snapped. “Go back.”
Ella took a step back, blinking fast as the sting built behind her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something—to explain, to apologize—but before she could utter a word, Draco’s hand shot up, covering her mouth.
Ella froze.
His eyes darted around, scanning the dark hallway. His breath was close to hers now, and for a terrifying moment, she thought he might yell or scold her again. But he didn’t.
“Shhh,” he whispered urgently. “Mrs. Norris is nearby.”
When Draco finally pulled his hand away, his expression was unreadable. He wasn’t angry anymore—but he wasn’t exactly pleased either.
“We can’t be seen,” he said in a low voice. “It’s too late to go back to the common room. If you do, Filch’s cat will see you. We’ll both get detention.”
Ella swallowed hard. She nodded, just barely. Her mind was still spinning, and she wasn’t sure if she was more embarrassed or terrified.
Draco’s eyes traveled over her—her rumpled pajamas, her messy hair, the frog plushie tucked under her arm. His lips curled slightly with contempt.
“You’re not even dressed,” he muttered. “Honestly.”
Ella looked down at herself, her face burning hotter. She hugged the plushie closer to her chest, wishing she could disappear.
Draco let out a sharp sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. For a moment, he just stared at the wall beside her, as though weighing his options.
Then he said, begrudgingly, “Don’t mess this up.”
Ella blinked. “What?”
“We’ll follow Potter, Weasley, and Granger,” he said, his voice clipped and low. “Find out what they’re up to. And then we’ll use a different route to get back to the common room. Without being caught.”
She hesitated, caught off guard. “Follow them? Why?”
“Because they’re hiding something,” he said, irritation creeping back into his voice. “I saw them talking earlier—whispering like they were planning a secret mission. Potter was practically glowing with the idea of sneaking off.”
Ella hesitated again, “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t want to get in trouble. And I don’t want to be seen as a rule breaker.”
Draco gave her a half-amused, half-exasperated look. “You’re already a rule breaker by association,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re here. With me. And besides, we’re not doing anything—just observing. No harm in that, is there?”
She looked at him, biting her bottom lip. The image of Potter and the redheaded boy bumping into them earlier came rushing back. They hadn’t even muttered an apology. Just kept whispering to each other like she didn’t exist.
There was something. "Okay," she said. He sighed again, though this time, it sounded more like reluctant acceptance than annoyance. “But stay close. And stay quiet.”
“I will,” she said quickly. “I promise.” “Good,” Draco said, a small, crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We’re just watching. If it gets messy, we disappear. Got it?” Ella nodded. “Got it.”
Together, they slipped into the corridor again, this time moving as a team—silent shadows in the dark. The excitement bubbled beneath her fear now. Whatever Potter and his friends were up to, she and Draco were about to find out.
They turned a corner, and the sound of voices caught their attention. Ella and Draco ducked into a nearby alcove, peering around the corner to see what was happening.
There, in the corridor, they saw Potter, Weasley, and Granger huddled together, deep in conversation. "What do you think they're talking about?" Ella whispered to Draco. He shook his head, his brow furrowed. "I'm not sure, but I'd love to find out," he said.
Ella felt a knot of anticipation in her stomach. She wanted to know what they were up to, but she also felt guilty about spying on them. Ella and Draco continued to follow Potter and his friends, staying out of sight and trying to be as quiet as possible.
They trailed behind like shadows, slipping through the castle with practiced silence. Every step was measured, every breath shallow. Ella kept close to Draco, her slippers whispering against the stone floor. Potter, Weasley, and Granger moved with urgency, whispering in hushed tones that barely echoed. From the distance, their voices were muffled, but their body language was tense.
Every time she thought they were about to get caught, Draco would gently pull her back, a steady hand on her wrist or the hem of her sleeve. Ella found herself marveling at how effortlessly Draco moved—like he had done this before.
Then suddenly, the trio moved again—quickly this time. They slipped through the main doors and into the night. Draco turned to Ella.
“They’re heading outside. Hagrid’s, maybe,” he said, already in motion.
Ella hesitated for the briefest second, glancing back. They could still turn back, pretend they’d never seen any of this. But Draco didn’t even look back. He moved like he was being pulled by something, a thread he couldn’t cut.
Ella and Draco continued to follow Potter and his friends, staying out of sight and trying to be as quiet as possible. They followed them to Hagrid's hut.
They moved like shadows beneath the moonlight, careful not to snap a twig or disturb the gravel underfoot. Ella breath hitched when they reached the edge of Hagrid’s pumpkin patch, Draco’s hand shot out gently, stopping her with a firm press to her arm. He crouched low, his expression sharp with focus.
“This is our chance,” he whispered, barely moving his lips. His hand lingered on her arm a second longer before he pulled away. “We can listen from the window. Just stay low and follow me.”
Ella nodded, her heart thumping wildly as they crept forward, using the tall, withered stalks of the pumpkin vines for cover. The voices inside the hut grew louder with every step. Draco reached the side of the hut first, crouched beneath the window, and glanced back at her. With a nod, he signaled for her to come closer. Ella moved slowly, every step deliberate, until she was right beside him.
From outside the window, Ella and Draco pressed their ears as close to the glass as they dared, the cold pane chilling their skin. The wind outside ruffled Ella’s hair and sent the hem of her pajama pants fluttering, but neither of them moved. Inside, the fire in Hagrid’s hut cast dancing shadows across the walls, flickering over the faces of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid as their conversation deepened into something far more serious than either Ella or Draco had expected.
“We need your help, Hagrid,” came Harry’s voice—firm, urgent.
“What’s the matter, Harry?” Hagrid’s booming voice replied, muffled slightly by the walls. Then, more cautiously, “Is something wrong?”
There was a pause before Ron’s voice jumped in. “We think that thing you got from Gringotts—the one Dumbledore sent you for—it’s here, in Hogwarts.”
Ella tensed, her brows knitting. She glanced at Draco, who didn’t return the look—his jaw was clenched, his gaze fixed forward.
“And someone’s going to try and steal it from here too,” Ron added, his tone laced with fear.
Then came Harry’s voice again—lower now, bitter. “I have a bad feeling about Snape. You know how he is, and he was—”
But Hagrid cut him off. “I have to say, I find this hard to believe,” the half-giant said firmly. “Professor Snape is a brilliant man. I can’t imagine him doing anything like this.”
There was a shuffling sound, as if Hagrid had leaned forward. “And no one can get past Fluffy. The stone is safe there.”
“The secret to getting past Fluffy is music,” Hagrid continued. “He loves it. He’ll fall asleep the moment someone starts playing.”
Then silence—sudden, uneasy silence. It was as if everyone in the room realized something at the same time. Ella and Draco did too.
Hagrid’s voice dropped. “I wasn’t supposed to say that. Please, don’t tell anyone.”
Inside, Hermione’s voice piped up quickly and softly, “We won’t tell anyone, Hagrid. We promise.”
Another pause. Then Hagrid’s relieved sigh.
Outside, the wind howled softly through the trees, and Draco slowly leaned back from the window. Ella followed, her heart racing in her chest. Draco’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes were alight and calculating.
“They think Snape is after a stone,” he said under his breath, almost to himself.
“And… something called Fluffy is guarding it,” Ella whispered, her breath clouding the night air.
Draco nodded slowly, almost distractedly. “Dumbledore wouldn’t leave something unimportant with Hagrid. That stone must be valuable.”
Ella clutched her plushie a little tighter. “Do you think Snape really would try to steal it?”
Draco didn’t answer right away. His eyes narrowed as he stared toward the hut, lost in thought. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “But I know this—we just found out something big.”
As Ella and Draco turned to leave the hut’s window, adrenaline still buzzing in their veins, a sudden crack snapped through the quiet night.
Ella had stepped on a dry branch.
It snapped loudly and in that same instant, she lost her balance and stumbled, bumping into Draco, who barely managed to catch her before she hit the ground.
Inside the hut, all conversation stopped.
"Did you hear that?" Harry's voice rang out sharply, full of suspicion.
"Something's outside," Ron muttered.
Draco’s eyes widened. “Run,” he whispered harshly.
Both of them sprinted as fast and as quietly as they could. They didn’t dare look back. Branches scratched at their arms, the wind rushing through their hair as they tore through the grounds toward the castle. The sound of hurried footsteps inside Hagrid’s hut spurred them on faster.
They didn’t slow down until they reached the castle’s heavy doors, slipping through just as they began to close for the night. Inside, they paused in the shadowed breathing hard, their chests heaving. Draco pressed a hand against the wall, catching his breath.
“That—was—..,” Ella whispered between gulps of air.
“We’re not safe yet,” Draco muttered, glancing down the corridor. “Come on.”
They tiptoed through the empty halls, their ears straining for any sound—Peeves cackling, Mrs. Norris’s soft pads, or Filch’s mutterings. Every creak made Ella jump, and even Draco looked unusually on edge. His usual cocky strut was replaced with cautious silence.
As they reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, they breathed a sigh of relief. They had made it back without incident. The moment it did, they both sagged in relief. Ella dropped onto the nearest velvet-cushioned armchair, hugging her plushie to her chest. Draco leaned on the back of the sofa, shaking his head.
“That was close,” Ella said, letting out a nervous laugh, her voice still breathy.
Draco looked at her, a crooked smirk finally pulling at his lips. “You think?”
She smiled faintly. “We need to be more careful.”
Draco’s smirk faded, and he nodded seriously. “We can’t let this happen again.”
They sat there in silence for a few moments, the fire crackling softly in the hearth nearby. Then, almost at the same time, they both looked at each other
"What kind of stone do you think they are talking about?" Ella asked quietly.
Draco thought for a moment, his brows knitting together. Ella’s eyes widened with curiosity. "Do you think it could be something dangerous?"
He shrugged. "It's possible. But whatever it is, it must be worth protecting. Dumbledore wouldn’t go to all that trouble for nothing."
Ella nodded slowly, her expression clouded with concern. "I just hope we’re not getting in over our heads," she said. Then, turning to him, her voice barely above a whisper, "What if we’re messing with something we can’t handle?"
Draco looked at her, his gaze steady. "We’ll be careful. We won’t do anything rash—but we have to find out what’s going on."
Ella inhaled deeply, steadying herself. "Okay. But we need to be smart about this. Next time, no more unnecessary risks." Draco smirked. "Next time? You’re the one who said you didn’t want to be a rule-breaker." Ella gave a soft, breathless laugh, the tension from their narrow escape still buzzing through her veins. His smile faded into something more serious. "This has to stay between us," he said firmly.
Ella blinked, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness in his voice. “Of course,” she replied, almost instinctively.
But Draco wasn’t satisfied with a quick answer.
“No, I mean it,” he said, stepping in closer. "Not your friends. Not even your diary. Especially not Potter and his little gang."
Ella’s smile faded completely now. She could feel the intensity in his gaze, the way his voice tightened at the edges. “I won’t tell anyone,” she said again, more deliberately this time. Draco studied her for a moment, like he was trying to read her thoughts. “Good,” he murmured.
Then they quietly said their goodnights, and each disappeared behind their respective doors.
Once inside her dormitory, her roommates were already asleep, the quiet breaths and the soft rustling of blankets the only sounds in the room, slid under her covers, and stared up at the canopy above her bed, heart still beating a little too fast.
Her mind raced with everything they had overheard—Hagrid’s slip, the mention of the Stone, Fluffy, and Harry’s suspicion of Snape. Something was going on at Hogwarts—something Dumbledore was trying to keep hidden.
Ella chewed her bottom lip, her fingers curled in the sheets. It felt surreal, like they had stumbled into the middle of something far bigger than themselves. And yet… it was thrilling. Terrifying, yes—but also thrilling.
She turned on her side, her eyes fluttered closed, the last thought in her mind wasn’t fear, but a strange, sparking anticipation. Whatever lay ahead, they were in it together. And she would uncover the truth, no matter what it took.
There was something exciting about having a secret—She wished she could tell Nancy but she made a promise. And more than that, there was something comforting in knowing that Draco had chosen to share it with her. That he had included her in something important. That he didn’t hate her after all.
She had something to look forward to—not just classes. A real adventure.
Notes:
AND THAT'S A WRAP, YOU MAGICAL WEIRDOS!
POTTERHEADS you're not supposed to know what this mysterious magical stone is yet! Even our dear Ella is walking around completely oblivious, which is honestly half the fun. FOR THE NON-POTTERHEADS Let's just say it's something very shiny, very valuable, and absolutely something no sane person would leave lying around a school full of curious children. But when has Hogwarts ever been sane?
THIS CHAPTER RANDOM CHAPTER QUESTION:
If you had to stash your most valuable possession would you:
(A) Trust Dumbledore at Hogwarts
(B) Lock it in Gringotts.
Vote in comments! (Correct answer is ‘give it to Snape’ – no one wants to look through his stuff.)
"LIFE UPDATE (because adulthood is a scam):
Soooo I’m moving out (read: drowning in cardboard boxes and existential dread), which means next chapter’s upload schedule is… ✨vibes-based✨. BUT! The good news: it’s already written! The bad news: my draft looks like a drunk owl wrote it (”what the F was I cooking here?!”), so I’m rewriting it between:
Packing my books (priorities and its not that much just 9 LOL)
Crying over WiFi plans (”fast wifi” my ass)With love, chaos, and and a questionable amount of daydreaming.
– [Elaf Mohammed/Buttercow]
Chapter 5: New friend.
Notes:
Hello, lovely weirdos, Potterheads and daydreamers! 🧙🏽♀️
CHAPTER 5 IS HERE!!!Let it be known that I spent longer trying to name this chapter than I did actually editing it. The result?..."New Friend" was the best I could do (don't look at me like that). That's right folks, all my brain cells were too busy imagining dramatic fanfic scenes to handle something as simple as words for a heading.
Next time I'll definitely try harder (this is a lie)
NOW, ONTO THE CHAPTER!!!!
(Or as I like to call it: ‘The Part Where I Finally Stop Overthinking and Let You Read The Damn Thing’)
PS. If you spot a typo, no you didn’t.Hope you like this chapter.🌹
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
"Ella!"
The voice pierced through Ella’s dreamless sleep, before she could even process it, rough hands shook her shoulder.
"Wake up!"
Ella groaned, turning over and tugging the covers over her head. "Five more minutes," she mumbled sleepily.
WHOOSH. Nancy yanked the blanket completely off her. "If you don't get up now, we're going to miss breakfast!"
Ella sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes, "Okay, okay, I'm up," she said, her voice thick with sleep. "Just give me a minute to get ready."
With an impatient huff, Nancy spun on her heel and marched out of the room, leaving the door swinging behind her.
Ella sighed and scrambled to get dressed, she accidentally bumped into Lucy—who had been peacefully curled at the foot of the bed—launched into the air like a firework, her tail puffing to three times its normal size. She hit the ground running, a streak of offended fluff vanishing under the doorframe.
"Sorry, Lucy!" Ella called after her, she finished dressing quickly, throwing on her shoes and smoothing down her hair as she hurried out the door.
Nancy was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, tapping her foot dramatically. "Finally!" she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I thought you were going to sleep through the whole morning!"
Ella smiled sheepishly, jogging the last few steps down. "Sorry," she said. "I must have been more tired than I realized."
"Well, come on!" Nancy said, grabbing Ella’s hand and pulling her toward the Great Hall. "I'm starving!"
Ella laughed, letting herself be dragged along. As they made their way down the corridors, she couldn't help but feel a quiet flutter of excitement deep inside. Today was just beginning—and she had a secret adventure tucked safely in her heart.
Ella and Nancy made their way to the Great Hall, the delicious smell of breakfast guiding them like a beacon. The room was already buzzing with chatter and the clinking of silverware against plates as students tucked into their meals.
They slid into their usual seats at the Slytherin table. Ella’s eyes automatically scanned the room, and she quickly spotted Draco and Matthew a little ways down the table. She gave them a quick wave.
Matthew, catching the movement from the corner of his eye, gave her a brief nod of acknowledgment before turning back to the boy he'd been speaking with—the same boy Ella had noticed watching her the night before who she knew his name now Theodore Nott . They seemed engrossed in a conversation that sounded far too technical and dry for Ella's still-sleepy mind.
"Morning, Ella," Draco said, glancing up from his plate with a small smirk. "Sleep well?"
"Not exactly," Ella admitted, reaching for a slice of toast.
Next to Draco, Blaise Zabini, whom Ella recognized from hearing his name in the common room, caught the exchange between Draco and Ella. He raised an eyebrow slightly, clearly curious but not enough to ask. Draco merely shrugged in response, as if to say, Mind your own business.
Blaise rolled his eyes in mild amusement and returned to his breakfast, already used to Draco’s occasional interactions with people outside their immediate group. It wasn't worth fussing over.
Ella’s gaze wandered again. She noticed the kind-looking boy Lorenzo Berkshire, she had seen last night was still deep in conversation with Blaise. She tilted her head slightly, curious, but decided not to stare too long.
Turning back to her own breakfast, Ella grabbed a plate and began piling it with food. Nancy, who had been observing the little interactions silently, nudged her playfully.
"I'm starving!" Ella said brightly, trying to keep her tone casual.
Nancy laughed. "Of course you are," she teased. "You're always hungry!"
As they approached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom after breakfast, Ella let out a dramatic groan.
"By what the Hufflepuff said yesterday, Quirrell is such a nervous wreck, I'm not sure how much we're actually going to learn," she muttered.
"It's not ideal," Nancy agreed with a sigh. "But it could be worse. At least it's not Potions with Snape!"
Ella chuckled weakly at that, but as they stepped through the door, her humor faded fast. Walking into Quirrell's classroom felt like stepping into a swirling cloud of tension and dust.
Professor Quirrell stood at the front of the room, his hands trembling as he clutched a piece of chalk. His voice cracked and wavered as he stuttered through the lecture, and more than once, the chalk slipped from his fingers.
He would flinch at even the softest shuffle of a student adjusting in their seat, his eyes darting nervously around the room as if he expected something to leap out at him. Worst of all, he frequently lost his train of thought, leaving long, awkward silences that only deepened the students' confusion.
Ella shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It wasn't just Quirrell’s stutter or his jumpiness that unsettled her. There was something deeper—something wrong. She often found herself glancing over her shoulder without knowing why, half-expecting to see something lurking behind her. It was irrational, but the dread was real and inescapable.
After what felt like an eternity of fragmented, barely coherent lecture, Quirrell coughed into his sleeve and muttered, "Let's just...move on to the next topic," his voice hoarse and strained.
The class, too weary to even groan, quietly turned to the next page in their textbooks. Ella barely registered what she was reading. She just kept glancing at the clock, willing it to move faster.
Finally, the bell rang. The room practically exhaled in collective relief. Ella shoved her parchment half-crumpled into her bag and hurried out the door, eager to leave that claustrophobic classroom behind.
Outside, the fresh air felt like a blessing. Ella took a deep breath, shaking off the lingering unease. She and Nancy made their way down to the Quidditch pitch, where their flying class with Madam Hooch.
Madam Hooch stood at the center, her yellow eyes tracking them as they approached, the wind tousling her short gray hair. "Welcome, class," she said, her voice booming across the open field. "Today, we're going to be focusing on basic flying techniques. Everyone stand next to a broom!"
There was a loud shuffling as the students moved into position, forming a slightly uneven line beside their brooms. Ella and Nancy quickly found spots next to each other. Ella clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging half-moons into her palms.
"On the count of three, say 'Up!'" Madam Hooch instructed, stalking between the rows. "One... two... THREE!"
"UP!" Nancy's broom leapt into her waiting hand with such enthusiasm hand with a clean snap. Ella watched it, amazed—and a little envious—before looking down at her own broom. It hadn't moved an inch. She tried again.
"Up!" she tried again, more forcefully.
Nothing.
"UP!" She practically growled this time.
Nothing. The broom lay motionless on the grass, as stubborn as a rock. Ella's cheeks burned as she glanced around. Several other students were having similar struggles. Madam Hooch, noticing the struggle, began moving briskly through the group, giving sharp, encouraging instructions here and there. Ella huffed out a breath, feeling silly and clumsy.
Nancy nudged Ella. "Why don't you try with your left? You've been using your right."
Ella blinked. She'd never considered— she stretched out her left hand instead, fingers trembling slightly. Closing her eyes, she took a steadying breath.
"Up," she said, soft but firm, willing the broom to listen.
For a moment, nothing happened—and then she felt a faint tingling in her palm.
Opening her eyes, she watched as the broom quivered once... twice... and then slowly, almost shyly, floated up into her hand.
She grabbed it quickly, clutching it to her chest as a wild grin spread across her face.
"YES!" she shouted, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Nancy beamed at her. "Told you so," she said. "Thanks, Nancy," Ella said, feeling a warm burst of gratitude.
Madam Hooch clapped her hands together, drawing everyone's attention back.
"Well done, everyone," she called out, her voice echoing across the field. "Now that you’ve got the basics down, we’ll move on to mounting your brooms—and then, your first lift-off!"
The students buzzed with excitement as they mounted their brooms one by one, some managing it more gracefully than others. Around her, Ella watched as students began to lift off the ground, hovering shakily a few feet in the air, laughing and wobbling as they adjusted to the strange new sensation.
Ella swallowed hard, feeling her palms grow clammy around the broomstick. She wasn’t as thrilled as everyone else seemed to be. Dreaming about flying was one thing—it was beautiful and safe in her mind—but the real thing? Actually lifting off the ground, with nothing but a broom holding her up?
Madam Hooch paced back and forth, sharp-eyed. "Now," she barked, "I want you to start moving around the pitch, keeping your brooms steady. When I blow my whistle, you will all head to the other side of the pitch."
She raised her whistle to her lips and gave a sharp blast.
Around Ella, brooms shot forward in jerky, uneven lines. Some students cheered. A few shouted in surprise as they almost lost control.
Ella stayed frozen where she was, her feet still planted firmly on the grass.
Frustration welled up in her chest. She clenched her jaw tightly, Stay calm, she told herself fiercely. Getting upset won't help.
Closing her eyes, she gripped the broom tighter and tried to focus, trying to imagine the feel of the wind rushing past her, the way she had pictured it so many times in her daydreams.
But now, standing here with nothing but air waiting to catch her if she fell, the images that came to mind were far less comforting.
She imagined losing control, spinning out of the sky, crashing hard onto the ground.
The fear sat heavy in her chest, making it hard to breathe.
Nancy hovered beside her, frowning. "Ella? You okay?"
Ella nodded stiffly, unable to force any words past the lump in her throat.
She hated feeling like this—hated that something everyone else seemed so excited about felt like a mountain she couldn't climb.
"Come on, Ella," Nancy urged gently, drifting closer. "You can do it."
Slowly, she mounted her broom, gripping it so tightly her knuckles turned white.
With one decisive push of her foot, Ella launched into the air. For one glorious moment, it was everything she’d dreamed—the rush of wind lifting her hair, the weightless thrill as the earth fell away beneath her. She could hear Nancy whooping somewhere to her left, see the other students darting like colorful birds across the pitch.
But as she looked down, her excitement quickly turned into dread. The ground seemed far too distant, and the broom wobbled beneath her like it could give out at any moment. A wave of dizziness hit her, and panic tightened in her chest. Suddenly, she lost control, her broom spinning wildly.
Ella let out a scream as the world blurred around her and the ground rushed closer. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable crash—
But instead of hitting the ground, she felt a pair of strong arms catch her. Blinking in surprise, she looked up to see Madam Hooch, her face a mixture of sternness and concern.
"Are you alright?" Madam Hooch asked, steadying her.
Ella nodded quickly, though she still felt a little dizzy. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, her voice trembling. "I just got scared and lost control."
Madam Hooch gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "It's alright," she said kindly. "Flying can be frightening at first. The important thing is to stay calm and focused. Want to give it another try?"
Ella hesitated, then shook her head. "I think I'm done for today," she said, feeling shaky and embarrassed.
"That's perfectly fine," Madam Hooch said with a nod. "You'll get there in time."
Ella followed her down to the ground, a heavy mixture of relief and disappointment weighing in her chest. As she stood on solid earth again, she couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever feel truly at ease in the sky — not just in her dreams, but for real.
After flying class ended, Ella and Nancy were walking back to the castle, the cool afternoon breeze brushing against their robes. They were chatting quietly when they were suddenly stopped by Marcus and a few of his friends, blocking their path.
Marcus sneered at Ella, his eyes cold and cruel.
"Hey, Muggle-born," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "You can't even ride a broom. What are you even doing here?"
Ella felt a sting behind her eyes, but she forced herself not to cry. She clenched her fists at her sides, her voice barely above a whisper. "I belong here just as much as you do." she said.
Marcus laughed—a harsh, ugly sound.
"You're dreaming," he said. "You'll never belong here." His eyes narrowed into slits. "I don't know what the Sorting Hat was thinking, putting you in Slytherin. You're nothing like the rest of us. You're Pathetic. You'll never be a real Slytherin."
Ella She could feel the tears fighting to rise again. "I'm not Pathetic," she said, her voice trembling. But Marcus only scoffed. "You're deluding yourself."
"Hey!" Nancy snapped, stepping forward, her voice ringing through the corridor like a bell. "Stop saying those things to Ella. She's just as much a part of this house as you are!"
Marcus whirled on her, his eyes flashing with anger. "You're just as much of a disappointment," he spat. Nancy glared at him, her fists clenched. "They're not worth it," she said in a low, steady voice, turning to Ella. "Come on. Let's go."
Ella nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. Together, they turned and walked away, ignoring the jeers behind them. Ella felt a little steadier with Nancy at her side, but Marcus's words echoed in her mind, leaving a bitter taste she couldn't quite shake.
After classes ended, Ella and Nancy made their way to the Slytherin table for dinner,They quickly found themselves swept up in conversation about classes, homework, and the upcoming Quidditch match.
"I wish I could play Quidditch," Nancy said with a heavy sigh, twirling her spoon between her fingers. "But first years aren't allowed on the team. I guess I'll just have to wait until next year."
Ella shuddered, the memory of her disastrous flying lesson still fresh. "I’d rather watch from the stands and cheer for our team," she said, pushing her peas into a neat line. Nancy grinned mischievously. "Ella, honey, if you were on the Quidditch team, we'd lose every game by a million points!"
Ella gasped in mock offense, laughing. "That's not exactly the vote of confidence I was hoping for!" she said, and both girls dissolved into giggles, drawing a few amused looks from the others around them.
Later, after dinner, Ella trudged alone toward the Slytherin common room. Nancy had stayed behind, still chatting animatedly with a group of girls. Ella didn’t mind. Her feet dragged with exhaustion; the day had been long, overwhelming, and far more emotional than she had wanted.
All she could think about was collapsing into her bed and disappearing into sleep for a week.
She pictured her cozy bed waiting for her, the soft warmth of her beloved kitten, Lucy, nestled against her chest, purring in that comforting, rhythmic way.
The thought of Lucy’s tiny paws kneading at her blanket, her gentle weight curled up against her heart, made Ella’s steps a little quicker, a little lighter. It was the perfect image, and she found herself clinging to it with every weary step she took through the dim, echoing corridors of the castle.
The common room was unusually still when Ella entered, she was surprised to find it nearly empty, only one figure occupied the space—Matthew, sprawled in an armchair near the hearth with an unexpected bundle of black fur curled contentedly in his lap. Ella stopped short, her tiredness momentarily forgotten. Lucy?
"I can’t believe Lucy’s being so friendly with you." she said, stepping closer. Her voice held equal parts wonder and betrayal. Matthew looked up from stroking Lucy’s ears, his dark eyebrows lifting. "Really? I didn’t know that." A slow, lopsided grin spread across his face. "Guess I’m just lucky."
Ella rolled her eyes so hard it made her dizzy. "Don’t get cocky, Lucy may have given you her stamp of approval, but you’re not the cat’s meow just yet."
Matthew’s eyes widened in mock horror. "No cat puns!" he groaned, though his mouth was already twitching. "That was just... clawful!"
Ella burst out laughing. "Oh my gosh, that was terrible!"
"You’re just lion to me," Matthew shot back without missing a beat.
"No, you’re the one who’s lion!" Ella countered, clutching a throw pillow to her stomach.
"Are you kitten me right meow?" Matthew leaned forward, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Stop, stop!" Ella wheezed, laughter turning to hiccups. "I’m getting a cat-astrophic case of the hiccups!"
Their ridiculous battle of wits continued, each pun more outrageous than the last. Ella was doubled over, tears pricking her eyes, while Matthew lounged like a king on his throne—Lucy now draped across his shoulders like a furry stole.
"I’m really just feeling paw-some today," he declared, smugness radiating from every pore.
Ella retaliated by hurling a velvet cushion at his head. Matthew caught it one-handed, sending Lucy leaping gracefully to the floor with an indignant mrrp!
"Okay, okay, I surrender!" he laughed, holding up his hands. But the gleam in his eye promised this wasn’t over.
The firelight danced across Matthew's face as he leaned forward, his expression open and warm. "So, how are you liking Hogwarts so far?" Ella paused, considering the question.
"It's definitely different from what I expected," she said thoughtfully. "But... I think I'm starting to like it. It's certainly an adventure, that's for sure."
Matthew chuckled. "It can definitely be an adventure — especially if you have the right attitude." He tilted his head slightly. "Are you making friends?" Ella's fingers stilled in Lucy's fur. The question landed heavier than he probably intended. "Well, I have Nancy," she offered, hearing the defensiveness in her own voice.
"But besides Nancy," Matthew pressed gently, his tone careful. "Have you made any other friends? It can be tough here, I know." "I haven't really made any other friends yet," she admitted quietly. "It's been... a bit lonely. But I'm trying."
Matthew smiled, a soft, understanding smile. "That's all you can do. Just keep trying." Ella felt something tight in her chest loosen. "Thanks," she murmured, Just then, Lucy jumped into Ella's lap, curling up like she belonged there. Matthew gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Oh, I've been replaced!" he wailed, flopping back against the chair like a fallen knight. "I'll never recover from this betrayal!"
Ella's laughter bubbled up uncontrollably. "Oh, come on," she giggled, "She's just getting her fix of girl time." Matthew pressed a hand to his forehead with theatrical flair. "I see how it is. I'm just a stand-in until the real star comes along."
Their laughter mingled in the cozy space, but as it faded, Ella found herself glancing toward the entrance. "Is Draco here?"
"Nah, I haven't seen him all evening," Matthew said, following her gaze. "Library, probably."
Ella nodded, tamping down an inexplicable twinge of disappointment. "Oh well," she shrugged, trying for nonchalance. Matthew caught the look on her face and smirked, mischief lighting up his eyes. He looked like a cat who had just cornered a mouse.
Ella narrowed her eyes playfully.
"You look like you're up to something," she said, trying to sound casual.
"Maybe," Matthew replied, voice low and teasing.
Then, with an exaggerated, sweeping bow, he said, "It's been a real pleasure, Ella." Ella returned the bow with exaggerated grace, Lucy protesting the movement with an indignant mrrp! "It's been lovely chatting with you. Until we meet again."
Matthew straightened up, a grin still playing on his lips.
"Until we meet again," he said grandly. "May the cat puns be ever in your favor."
"And may the odds be ever in your pun," Ella called after him, laughter bubbling from her.
Matthew’s laughter echoed across the common room as he headed toward the door, leaving Ella smiling and feeling just a little less lonely than before.
Ella made her way up to the dormitory, she quickly changed into her pajamas, then slipped under the covers, reaching out to her plushie.
Ella sighed contentedly, letting the warmth of the blankets and the soft rumble of Lucy’s purring lull her into sleep. Her exhaustion caught up with her, and soon she drifted off into dreams that were calm and still.
In her dreams, she saw Matthew, laughing and smiling, surrounded by cats of all shapes and sizes. It was a silly, weird scene, but somehow it felt warm, comforting.
The next two weeks passed by in a blur of classes, homework, and studying. Ella barely had time to catch her breath. Even meals became strategic affairs—gulping down soup between reviewing notes, dodging Peeves' attempts to spill ink on her homework.
Despite her curiosity about "Fluffy" — the mystery that she and Draco had stumbled upon — she found herself too busy to investigate further. Schoolwork kept piling up, and every spare moment was eaten up by essays, assignments, and late nights hunched over parchment, investigating Fluffy's mysterious became a luxury Ella couldn't afford.
She told herself she would look into it eventually. For now, she simply had to wait — and trust that the answers would come in time.
Every now and then, she would catch sight of Matthew in the crowded halls. They never seemed to have a proper moment to talk, just brief glimpses and smiles in passing. But every time she saw him, the memory of that night — the laughter, the endless stream of ridiculous cat puns — would rise up she'd press her lips together to stifle a smile, earning curious looks from Nancy.
"What's so funny?" Nancy would ask, eyebrows raised. "Nothing," Ella would say, shaking her head. But the memory of cat puns and dramatic swoons stayed with her, a bright spot in the grind of schoolwork.
One day, as Ella made her way to the library, she turned a corner — and came face to face with Peeves.
He was hovering midair, a mischievous grin plastered across his face.
"Well, well, well," he sang, twirling lazily above her. "What we have here? A little snake out on her own?"
Ella took a steadying breath, trying to remain calm.
"What do you want, Peeves?" she asked, forcing her voice to stay even.
"Oh, nothing much," Peeves replied, his grin stretching wider. "Just a little fun."
Before she could react, Peeves swooped down and snatched her wand from her grip, soaring up with a triumphant cackle.
"Hey!" Ella shouted, her heart lurching. She lunged upward, trying to grab it back, but Peeves held it just out of reach, bobbing and weaving above her like a balloon on a string.
"You're too short to get it, little snake!" he teased gleefully. "Not even close!"
Ella’s cheeks burned with frustration as she jumped again, fingertips brushing the end of the wand but missing it by inches. Peeves only floated higher, making a show of dangling it tauntingly above her head.
"Give it back!" she demanded through gritted teeth.
"I don't think I will!" Peeves sang, spinning lazily in the air. "You'll just have to find another way to get it, little snake."
Ella planted her feet firmly, trying to keep her temper in check even as anger roiled in her chest.
"I'm starting to get really annoyed now, Peeves," she said, her voice tight. "Please give me my wand back."
But Peeves only laughed louder, the sound echoing mockingly off the stone walls.
"And what if I don't?" he said. "You'll just use it to hex poor little me! Can't have that!"
Ella’s hands clenched into fists at her sides.
"Please, Peeves," she said again, her voice breaking with frustration. "I need my wand. I can’t do anything without it."
He floated upside down now, examining her like a particularly amusing insect.
"What's the matter?" Peeves swooped low, his face inches from hers. "Can't do any magic without your precious little stick?"
"JUST GIVE IT BACK!"
Her shout echoed through the corridor, startling a flock of first-years around the corner. Peeves recoiled—just for an instant—before his grin returned, wider and more malicious than ever.
"Peeves." Peeves froze his garish colors paling. His eyes darted between Ella and the looming specter, "Peeves," the Baron intoned, drifting closer, "give that back to her. Right. Now." The change was instantaneous. Peeves' smirk melted into something resembling fear—a rare sight that sent a shiver down Ella's spine. With a whimper, he dropped her wand as if it had burned him.
Ella dove for it, her fingers closing around the familiar wood with desperate relief. She pressed it to her chest, feeling the lingering warmth of her magic humming beneath the surface. When she looked up at the Baron, her eyes shone with genuine gratitude.
"Thank you," she whispered, her breath misting in the sudden chill.
The Baron inclined his head slightly, his hollow eyes flickering with something almost... approving. Then—with a whisper of chains—he was gone, leaving only the echo of cold and the faint scent of iron in his wake. Without another word, Peeves turned tail and fled down the corridor, his usual swagger replaced by frantic speed. His fading cackles sounded suspiciously like nervous hiccups.
Ella stood alone in the suddenly warm hallway, her wand still clutched tight. She'd heard rumors about the Baron's terrifying presence, but seeing it firsthand—seeing Peeves cower—was something else entirely.
With one last glance at the empty corridor, Ella hurried toward the library, her steps quick and light. She had a sudden, pressing desire to be around living, breathing people.
The corridor ahead shimmered with mischief before Ella even reached it. There, bathed in a patch of afternoon sunlight, she spotted Fred and George Weasley huddled near a nervous-looking Hufflepuff first-year. Their grins were identically wicked as they dangled a brightly wrapped sweet just out of the child's reach.
"Come on, it's just a little treat!" George coaxed, his voice dripping with false innocence. "Won't hurt a bit—we promise."
The first-year's eyes darted between the candy and the twins' faces. "I don't know," they squeaked, clutching their bag like a shield. "I've heard stories..."
Ella slowed her steps, curiosity prickling up her spine. Everyone knew about the Weasley twins' legendary pranks but she'd never witnessed their sales pitch firsthand.
Before she could reconsider, she approached the group. George's head swiveled toward her, his freckled face lighting up like he'd spotted a kindred spirit. "Hello there!" he crowed, abandoning his hesitant mark. "Interested in trying our latest invention?"
Ella smiled back, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Of course! What is it?"
With a dramatic flourish, George held up a small, colorful box.
"This, my dear, is a box of Fizzy Whizzees," he announced, pride thick in his voice. "One little sweet and you'll feel as light as a feather, floating on air."
Fred grinned and added, "And if you eat more than one, you'll be drifting around the castle like a big, happy balloon!"
Ella’s eyes widened, a laugh escaping her.
"Really?" she asked, wonder in her voice. "Do you really think it’ll work?"
Fred and George exchanged a knowing, mischievous glance.
"We guarantee it!" they chorused.
Ella's breath caught. The candies seemed to hum in their box, practically begging to be tasted. "Really?" she breathed, already reaching out.
The twins exchanged a glance—a silent conversation of raised eyebrows and smirk-twitches—before nodding in perfect unison. "We guarantee it!"
Heart pounding, Ella plucked a neon-yellow sweet from the box. It fizzed against her fingertips before she even popped it into her mouth. For three agonizing seconds, nothing happened.
At first, nothing happened.
Then a strange tingling sensation started in her fingertips. She glanced down, gasping softly as her hands began to glow faintly blue.
Before she could say a word, her feet lifted gently off the ground.
"Ahh!" she yelped in surprise, flailing slightly as she floated upward — a few inches, then half a foot, her hair drifting around her like she was underwater.
"Wicked!" Fred crowed as Ella floated upward, her robes billowing around her like jellyfish tendrils.
"Brilliant!" George added, already scribbling notes on a scrap of parchment. "Notice any nausea? Dizziness? Uncontrollable urge to sing?"
Ella's words tumbled out in an exhilarated rush: "This is amazing! What else have you invented? How long does it last? I could float to the moon!"
Fred beamed. "Plenty more where that came from!"
"Effects wear off in five minutes," George assured her, then smirked. "Unless you'd like to test the three-piece dosage? We'll waive the cleanup fee."
Ella shook her head, laughing as she bobbed gently against the ceiling. For the first time since her disastrous flying lessons, she was flying—and loving every second.
Fred's eyes sparkled with newfound respect as he looked Ella up and down. "You're certainly a lot more fun than some of the other Slytherins we've met," he declared, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Most of them act like they've got sticks permanently lodged in—"
"—their very serious, for our taste," George finished, dodging his brother's elbow with practiced ease. "But you? You're definitely an exception."
Ella's cheeks warmed with pleasure as she floated gently back to earth, her feet touching down with only the slightest stumble. "Thank you!" she gasped, still breathless from the lingering fizzy sensation in her limbs.
Fred produced a small notebook from his robes with a flourish. "We're always happy to share our inventions with a willing test subject," he said, winking. The pages were filled with wild sketches - something labeled 'Talking Toilets 2.0'
"And we can always use a fellow mischief-maker," George added, leaning in conspiratorially. "Especially one with Slytherin access to the dungeons."
Ella's eyes lit up like Christmas morning. "I'd be happy to help!"
"Mischief managed!" the twins said together, their voices full of glee. For a glorious moment, Ella felt that peculiar thrill of feeling like she had just been initiated into a secret club.
"Tim and I were quite the troublemakers at the orphanage," she confessed, her grin turning wicked. Two identical sets of eyebrows shot upward. "Really?" the twins breathed in perfect harmony.
"That's quite the reputation to have at an orphanage!" George marveled.
Ella chuckled, feeling a little sheepish.
"I guess I’ve always had a bit of a mischievous streak. I just couldn’t help myself sometimes!"
"That's quite understandable, we were born troublemakers. It's practically in our blood." George nodded sagely, while Fred pretended to wipe away a tear.
"We were always pulling pranks and causing mayhem," Ella continued, her eyes dancing with remembered joy. "And we had a blast doing it." "I bet you drove the adults crazy!" Fred exclaimed, looking at Ella with something akin to hero worship.
"We definitely kept them on their toes," Ella laughed. "They never knew what we were going to do next!"
"And that's what made it all the more fun!" George crowed, punching the air. "You had to be one step ahead of the grown-ups!" Fred leaned forward, "So, spill the beans. What kind of pranks did you pull at the orphanage?"
Ella's grin turned downright devilish as the memories came flooding back. "Well, there was the time I filled all the shoes in the shoe closet with shaving cream," she began, watching with delight as the twins' eyes widened.
"Classic!" George applauded. "And then there was the time I replaced all the sugar in the kitchen with salt," she continued, barely containing her giggles.
Fred clutched his chest. "Evil genius!"
"And don't even get me started on the whoopee cushion incident!" Ella finished, collapsing into laughter at the memory. The twins looked at each other, then back at Ella, their expressions a perfect blend of admiration and scheming delight.
The twins' eyes gleamed with increasing admiration as Ella regaled them with tales of orphanage pranks. "You're quite the troublemaker!" Fred declared, his grin stretching impossibly wide. "I couldn't agree more," George chimed in, clapping her on the shoulder. "You're definitely one of us!"
Fred shook his head in theatrical wonder. "You're the friendliest Slytherin we've ever met. Breaking the mold, you are!"
Ella felt warmth spread through her chest, suddenly bashful under their praise. She went to tuck her hair behind her ear—and froze.
"My floating must have worn off," she said, "It was fun while it lasted!"
The twins exchanged one of their silent conversations—just a quick meeting of eyes and quirked eyebrows—before exploding into action.
"We could extend the duration with some simple modifications," Fred mused, pulling a crumpled parchment from his robes.
George snatched a quill from behind his ear. "Extra binding agents, maybe tweak the structure—"
"—make it last for days!" Fred finished, scribbling wild. Ella's eyes widened.
Fred leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Next time, we'll make sure it lasts longer."
"With extra features!" George added, wiggling his eyebrows. "Like what?" Ella asked, equal parts intrigued and wary. Two identical grins answered her. "Surprise!" they said, the word dripping with promised chaos.
Ella's laughter bubbled up uncontrollably. There was something infectious about their enthusiasm, like catching the giggles during a boring lecture.
"If you ever need accomplices," Fred said, gesturing between him and his twin, "we're your wizards."
"Consider us professors of prankology," George added. "Always happy to educate."
Ella felt something click into place—that rare, giddy certainty of finding your people. "I think we're going to get along just fine," she said, her smile mirroring theirs.
With dramatic sighs, the twins straightened. "Duty calls," Fred lamented, tucking away their notes. "This revolutionary research won't conduct itself!"
"We'll find you when we've brewed up something special," George promised, already backing away. "Until then—" Fred tipped an imaginary hat. "—keep being brilliantly un-Slytherin!" George finished.
Ella waved as they disappeared around the corner, their laughter trailing behind them like floating bubbles. She turned toward the dungeons, her steps lighter than they'd been in weeks. Somewhere ahead lay homework, curfews, and Slytherin politics. But now? Now she had secret weapons. And they came in pairs.
The Slytherin common room welcomed Ella with its familiar emerald glow, the firelight dancing across the black leather sofas. Nancy looked up from her Transfiguration notes, her face lighting up when she spotted Ella.
"Hey there, Ella!" she called, patting the empty space beside her.
Ella flopped onto the sofa, "You're not going to believe what happened," she began, launching into the tale of Peeves, the Bloody Baron's intervention, and most importantly—her meeting with the Weasley twins.
Nancy's expressions shifted like a flipbook—outrage at Peeves, awe at the Baron's appearance, and finally delighted shock as Ella described floating near the ceiling thanks to the Fizzy Whizbees.
"No!" Nancy gasped when Ella demonstrated her brief levitation with waving hands. "They just gave you experimental candy? And you ate it?"
"YES!" Ella grinned.
Nancy burst into laughter, clutching her stomach. "Only you, Ella! Only you would become friends with Hogwarts' most troublemakers on a random Tuesday!"
A soft mrrp sounded as Lucy emerged from behind, stretching before padding over to Ella's lap. Ella scooped her up, burying her fingers in the kitten's fur.
The common room's warmth, Nancy's laughter, Lucy's comforting weight—it all blended into a perfect moment of contentment.
"Goodnight, Nancy," Ella murmured eventually, rising with Lucy cradled like a furry baby, the events of the day swirling pleasantly in her mind. As she slipped under the covers, Ella drifted off with a smile, her last conscious thought a happy realization: her heart is a little stronger, her spirit is a little brighter.
The castle corridors were unusually quiet as Ella hurried toward the Great Hall, her stomach growling in protest. She had stayed in the library far longer than she had intended, buried in her studies until the sun began to set behind the castle windows. All she could think about was grabbing a warm meal and to relax after a long day.
The warm glow of the Great Hall's entrance beckoned just ahead, the distant clatter of cutlery and hum of conversation promising a much-needed meal. As she neared the Great Hall, she caught the sound of hushed voices around the corner. Instinctively, she paused, hidden in the shadow of a stone pillar. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but something about the urgent, secretive tones made her stay still.
It didn’t take long for her to realize what — or rather, who — they were talking about.
“He’s going to be just like his father,” whispered one of the Ravenclaws, his voice sharp and judgmental despite his attempt at secrecy. “He doesn't even try to be different.”
“I know, right?” the Gryffindor chimed in, his voice tinged with a mixture of certainty and disdain. “Everyone knows how this story will ends.”
"And don’t forget about his mother," the second Ravenclaw added with a sneer. "She's just as bad — maybe worse."
Ella's heart dropped heavily into her stomach. She gripped her books a little tighter against her chest, feeling a twinge of anger that she hadn’t expected. Matthew. They were talking about Matthew.
He was nothing like what they were describing. He had been nothing but kind and friendly to her, she knew that he was a good person, and she couldn't believe that these other students were so quick to judge him.
Ella shifted on her feet, her mind racing. Part of her wanted to turn away — to ignore it, to pretend she hadn’t heard anything. It's none of your business, a small voice whispered. They’re just kids. It won’t change anything if you step in. You’ll only make yourself a target too.
She hesitated, feeling torn, the weight of choice pressing down hard on her. Her hand hovered near the stone wall for a moment as if she could physically steady herself against the urge to just walk away. She didn't like confrontations — she never had. A thousand doubts whirled inside her: What if they turned on her? What if they twisted her words? What if Matthew found out and felt even worse?
And yet, louder than all the fears, was another thought, burning bright If I was in his place I would love if someone stood up for me.
Ella took a deep, shaky breath, squaring her shoulders, she stepped around the corner into the open, right into the startled gaze of the first years. They looked up at her, blinking, clearly not expecting anyone to overhear their conversation. For a moment, the corridor was painfully silent, every pair of eyes fixed on her.
"I couldn't help but overhear you talking about Matthew," Ella said, forcing her voice to remain steady despite the hammering of her heart. "You don't know him at all. He's kind, and funny, and—"
"The whole world knows who his parents were," the Ravenclaw boy interrupted, his voice dripping with condescension. "They did horrible things—to wizards and Muggles alike. Don't try to defend him."
The Gryffindor boy nodded vigorously. "Don't forget his mother!" He shuddered. "Thank Merlin for Harry Potter, or we'd all be—"
"Who is she? I don't even know who are his parents?" Ella asked, her voice uncertain but curious.
The first years exchanged quick glances, "YOU-KNOW-WHO is his father, and Bellatrix Lestrange his mother, and was YOU-KNOW-WHO right hand!" the other Ravenclaw added.
Ella felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs. She hadn't known. She hadn't known that they were Matthew's parents. A flicker of cold fear touched her heart — fear of what it could mean, fear of the bloodline Matthew came from.
But she shoved that fear away.
"I don’t care who his parents are," Ella said, her voice low but firm. "Matthew isn’t them. And he’s a good person."
The Ravenclaw girl crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at her. "Of course you’d say that," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "You’re both Slytherins. I see why you're defending him. Birds of a feather—"
Ella felt her jaw tighten. "This isn’t about house loyalty," she said sharply. "It’s about seeing people for who they really are, not the rumors you hear about their families." She took a step forward. "Try actually talking to him instead."
"We'll never trust him," the Gryffindor said flatly. "Some stains don't wash out."
The first years didn’t look convinced. In fact, they looked even more set in their opinions, their faces closed and stubborn. Without another word, they turned and headed into the Great Hall, leaving Ella standing there, feeling small and tired and heavy all over.
She couldn't help but feel a little hurt. She had tried so hard to defend Matthew, and it seemed like it had all been for nothing. The more Ella thought about it, the more disturbed she became. She knew now that his parents are a dangerous and cruel people, responsible for many deaths and violence.
Could someone with that blood running through their veins truly be different? Could he really be a good person, despite having such a dark figure in his family history? Ella wasn't sure, but she felt a responsibility to give him a chance.
She let out a long sigh, brushing a hand through her hair, the knot of anger and sadness still tangled in her chest. Had she even made a difference? Had she done the right thing?
Even if they don't listen... she told herself, I still needed to say it. Gathering what little strength she had left, followed them into the Great Hall.
Matthew saw everything.
From his shadowed alcove near the armor gallery—where he'd been repairing Draco’s quill that he snapped—he'd watched the whole encounter unfold.
He had heard the cruel whispers before.
He knew what people thought.
But what he hadn’t expected — what stunned him — was the way Ella stood up for him.
Matthew stayed rooted in place, watching as she tried to make the first years see reason. Watching as she stood alone, taking on judgment meant for him.
And now, as she walked toward the Great Hall alone, Matthews’s stomach churning with something bitter and heavy.
She didn't know.
The realization settled over hit him. All those quiet conversations, the shared smiles, Ella had befriended him without knowing the blood that ran through his veins. Without knowing the monsters who shared his features, his magic, his very DNA.
Yet, She'd defended him anyway. He felt something deep inside him — guilt.
Because he knew.
He knew what she might have just brought down on herself. How terribly ironic—Ella, already an outcast among the Slytherins.
Slytherin was already divided when it came to her — half the House hated that she was an orphan, hated even more that a Muggle-born had dared to be sorted into their House.
Now, she would have given the other Houses even more reasons to despise her.
Not just a Slytherin. Not just a Muggle-born.
But someone who defended him.
Matthew clenched his fists at his sides, feeling a cold rush of self-loathing.
It wasn’t fair.
Ella didn’t deserve this.
He watched her walk toward the Great Hall, she was trying to be brave.
For him.
As he entered the Hall, his eyes immediately found her, already seated at the Slytherin table, staring down at her plate, absentmindedly pushing food around with her fork.
"Hey," Nancy greeted, her voice a little surprised. "I was wondering where you were. Are you okay?" Ella nodded, forcing a small smile onto her face. "I'm fine," she said, trying to sound convincing. "Just a little tired, that's all."
Nancy didn't look like she quite believed her, but she didn’t press. Instead, she started chatting about tomorrow's Potions quiz. Ella responded on autopilot, her attention drifting not too far away, sat Matthew with Draco, Theo, and Lorenzo.
The four of them were laughing about something — genuine, carefree laughter that made them, for a moment, look like any other group of boys.
But the rest of the Hall told a different story.
At the Ravenclaw table, a group of third-years kept glancing their way, their whispers hidden behind textbooks. A Hufflepuff first-year deliberately took the long way around to avoid passing too close.
As Ella watched, a Gryffindor girl passed by their table. She bumped into Theo’s shoulder — an obvious accident — but instead of apologizing, "Filthy snakes," the girl muttered just loud enough to carry.
Theo's smile turned razor-sharp. "Careful, lion cub," he drawled. "You might trip over your own prejudice."
Ella’s stomach twisted.
The whole air around them was heavy, tense, crackling with things left unsaid.
She couldn't imagine what it must feel like to walk through the castle every day, knowing so many people almost all of them, were just waiting for you to slip, waiting for proof that you were exactly what they already believed.
And Matthew had to carry that weight because of the blood in his veins, not because of anything he had done.
In that moment, Ella decided she might not change the whole school's mind overnight. But she could be one person who saw him—truly saw him—for who he was.
A friend.
Matthew watched Ella's usual animated dinner conversation with Nancy had been reduced to quiet murmurs. "Are you good?" Draco asked, his eyes curious.
Matthew set down his fork with a quiet clink. The words lodged in his throat like a stubborn Bertie Bott's bean. How did one explain that the girl they'd all dismissed as just another Muggle-born oddity had done what no pureblood ever had—defended him without hesitation?
But then he took a deep breath and started to tell them about what had happened with Ella.
Matthew knew, right then and there, that he wouldn’t forget it. He wouldn’t let her stand alone next time. He glanced at her again, where Ella sat with Nancy, her head tilted slightly as she listened, her hair falling across her face.
She didn’t even know he had seen — didn’t know the storm of emotions she had stirred up inside him.
And for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t feel quite so cursed by the blood that ran through his veins. He felt...Lucky.
There was an awkward silence as Theo, Lorenzo and Draco struggled to process what they had just heard.
Three pairs of eyes darted to where Ella sat, now absently braiding her napkin as she listened to Nancy. The contradictions made Theo's head spin. "She actually said that? Knowing...?" His hand fluttered vaguely. Lorenzo said "That's... unexpected."
"Stupid, more like," Draco muttered, though without his usual venom. "She's already got half the school looking sideways at her for being an orphan Muggle-raised Slytherin."
"Well, I'm an orphan too," Theo said after a moment, his voice quiet as he spun his fork lazily between his fingers.
Lorenzo leaned forward, his dark eyes serious. "But you know who your parents were," he pointed out. "You grew up in a wizarding family, with wizarding history." Draco nodded in agreement, his usual smirk absent.
"She doesn't even know if her parents were muggles or not. For all she knows, she could be pure-blood, half-blood, muggle-born... no one knows." Lorenzo continued, his voice dropping. "And I guess she can't find out."
Theo's usual smirk was nowhere to be seen as he stared at his plate, thinking it’s Must be... lonely.
The silence that followed was thoughtful rather than awkward. For the first time, they were seeing Ella not as an oddity or an outsider.
Matthew's goblet hovered halfway to his lips as he recalled the confrontation, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up. "I know, I know—I couldn't believe it either! We barely talk except that one time with Lucy, but there she was, telling them to leave me alone." He set down his drink, a touch of amazement still lingering in his voice.
"Can you believe that?" Theo chuckled, "Honestly, no. You're not exactly easy to defend, mate." "And," Matthew added, puffing up a little with mock pride, "she even liked my cat puns. Liked them."
Lorenzo made a face over his book. "Merlin help us all." Matthew ignored him, taking a sip of his juice and trying to calm the flutter of nerves in his chest. He wasn’t used to this — this feeling of... warmth? Hope?
"I think," he said slowly, setting his goblet down, "I think I like Ella more than before. Aunt Narcissa was absolutely right about her."
Theo looked up with interest. "Wait is she the same girl from Diagon Alley?" Draco replied "Yes the same girl". "It sounds like you two are starting to like her now," Lorenzo said, finally putting down his book, his sharp gaze moving between Draco and Matthew with mild amusement.
Draco gave a short, almost nostalgic laugh. "When my mother breaks character to praise someone, you take notice. That's not something you see every day." He leaned back slightly, folding his arms. "And Ella did great that night — followed Potter without making a sound, sneaking around like she’d been doing it for years. All while wearing a pajama and carrying a stupid frog plushie."
He shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Ridiculous." Lorenzo raised an eyebrow but said nothing, simply flipping a page in his book with a bemused look.
"If Aunt Narcissa approved of her," Matthew said with a shrug that didn't quite hide his smile, "that's endorsement enough for me."
Theo leaned forward, his usual smirk replaced by genuine curiosity. "So are we telling her what we've uncovered about Fluffy? She did sneak out with you, after all." His fingers drummed an eager rhythm on the table. "Plus, I'm dying to meet this anomaly of a Slytherin."
Lorenzo nodded in agreement. "You're right. We didn't really get the chance to properly talk to her. Not really." He paused, considering. "She's earned the right to know about it."
"Yes! Yes! YES!" Matthew's grin could have lit up the dungeons as he scanned the hall. His gaze landed on Ella, who was now dramatically waving a fork at Nancy over what appeared to be a heated debate about pumpkin pasties.
A burst of laughter from a nearby group of first-years caught their attention. "— it's true!" a pug-nosed Slytherin boy was saying, eyes wide. "She took one of the Weasley twins' experimental candies and floated halfway to the ceiling! She didn’t even get mad, she laughed and started talking to them! Now she's practically friends with them!"
Theo nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. "Slytherin and Gryffindor," he marveled, shaking his head in disbelief. "For Merlin's sake, next she'll be hosting inter-house tea parties with Hufflepuffs."
Lorenzo laughed lowly, the sound deep and genuine, before calmly reopening his book. "Stranger things have happened," he said with a smirk.
An unusual energy hummed between the boys—something between curiosity and anticipation. They'd been a closed circle for years, their bonds forged in pureblood drawing rooms and reinforced by shared suspicion of outsiders.
Yet here they were, genuinely considering inviting in the most improbable candidate imaginable: a pajama-clad, frog-toting, Weasley-associating Muggle-born who'd somehow earned Narcissa Malfoy's approval.
And perhaps, though none would say it aloud, the quiet hope that someone who saw past Matthew's surname might see past theirs too.
Notes:
AND THAT'S A WRAP, YOU MAGICAL WEIRDOS!
[cricket sounds]
Yeah, I got nothing this time. Told you my brain cells just stopped working these days.
BUT! Random question:
"Would you write with a proper quill (ink stains, feather fluff, the whole disaster) or stick to sane-person pens?"
Personally? I’d 100% try the quill once for the ~aesthetic~If you say ‘quill’, you’re lying.
[flings ink pot dramatically and exits]
With love, chaos, and and a questionable amount of daydreaming.
– [Elaf Mohammed/Buttercow]
Chapter 6: Pinky Promise.
Notes:
Hello, lovely weirdos, Potterheads and daydreamers! 🧙🏽♀️
CHAPTER 6 IS HERE!!![collapses dramatically onto a couch]
Took me way too long to edit this one, but HEY -actual chapter name without killing myself this time.
Fun Facts About This Chapter It started as a 15-page somehow ended up to be a 39-page.Hope you like this chapter.🌹
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the Hogwarts grounds as Ella and Nancy trudged back toward the castle, the crisp autumn air carried the scent of damp grass and fallen leaves, mingling with the faint tang of broom polish. Ella’s short hair was a wild, wind-tossed mess, sticking up in every direction looked like she had been caught in the middle of a tornado and spat back out. Strands of it clung to her sweat-dampened forehead, and her cheeks were flushed from exertion.
Beside her, Nancy looked as composed as ever, her neatly braided hair, her robes barely ruffled. Walked with a kind of poised perfection that always grated on Draco’s nerves. She the pleasant tone, the carefully calculated kindness, always smiling just a little too sweetly— but Draco, had learned to distrust anything that seemed too perfect.
The contrast between them was almost comical—Ella, the embodiment of chaos, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her tie askew, and her boots scuffed from an unfortunate encounter with a muddy patch on the Quidditch pitch; Nancy, pristine and put-together, every inch the proper witch.
Draco Malfoy watched them from a distance, he had been waiting for Ella, the boys decided it was finally time to let Ella into their circle by telling her what they had uncovered about Fluffy.
Even now, disheveled and exhausted, her bright green eyes sparkled with laughter as she gestured wildly, recounting some disastrous maneuver to Nancy. Her smile was infectious, the kind that made you want to grin back even if you didn’t know the joke. Draco found himself moving before he could second-guess the impulse.
“You look like you’ve been through the wringer,” Draco drawled, his voice laced with amusement.
Ella let out a breathless laugh, “Flying lesson was a disaster,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I think I might be the worst flier in the history of Hogwarts.”
Draco arched a brow, taking in her mud-splattered robes and the way she leant on her left leg slightly—probably from an ill-advised dismount. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it eventually,” he said, though the smirk tugging at his lips suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced.
Ella sighed dramatically, tossing her head back. A strand of her black hair flopped right into her eyes, and she blew at it in frustration. “I hope you’re right,” she muttered. “In the meantime, I’ll just be thankful to be on solid ground.”
Nancy spoke up then. “You'll get better with practice, Ella. Some people just take longer to find their... coordination.”
He ignored her, focusing instead on Ella. As they neared the castle doors, Draco fell into step beside Ella, subtly steering the conversation away from Nancy and onto safer, lighter topics. They had bigger things to talk about anyway.
“I need to talk to you,” Draco said, directing his words firmly at Ella. He caught Nancy’s expression out of the corner of his eye—a flicker of something sharp and calculating before it smoothed back into pleasant neutrality.
He filed that away for later.
Ella, simply smiled and said, “Go ahead,” But Nancy didn't move. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her blue eyes flickering between them with polite curiosity. like she expected to be part of the conversation.
Draco’s patience snapped. His eyes flashed coldly as he turned to Nancy, his lip curling in clear disgust. “Get lost, Nancy,” he said sharply, “I need to talk to Ella. Alone.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Ella's wrist and pulled her aside, leaving Nancy standing frozen on the path.
Ella barely had time to register the hurt that flashed across Nancy's face—the way her friend's shoulders stiffened, the brief tremble of her lips before she schooled her expression into something neutral.
Ella wrenched her arm free from Draco's grip, turning to face him with a mixture of disappointment and frustration tightening her features. “Could you be a little nicer?” Draco rolled his eyes. “I can't talk with her standing there, and I don't like her, so no, I don't particularly care about being nice,” His tone was casual, dismissive. “I came to tell you what we found out about Fluffy and—”
“But I care about Nancy!” Ella cut him off, her green eyes blazing. She took a step closer, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “And we—you said this was a secret, Draco, so I didn't tell anyone, not even her. And as you can see, she's the only one in our house who actually wants to be my friend!”
Draco froze, his arrogant mask slipping for just a second—long enough for Ella to see the flicker of surprise in his eyes.
She barreled on. “You may have your reasons for not wanting to share this with her, but that doesn't give you the right to be rude to her. And as much as I want to know about Fluffy and what he's guarding, I won't just stand here and let you treat my only friend like that!”
A heavy silence fell between them. Ella exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “What is wrong with people in this school?” she muttered, more to herself than to Draco.
Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and strode away, her boots kicking up small puffs of dust. Behind her, Draco remained rooted to the spot, his usual smirk absent, his expression uncharacteristically troubled.
Nancy was still standing where they'd left her, her face carefully blank. When Ella reached her, Nancy opened her mouth as if to speak—but Ella just shook her head, looping her arm through Nancy's and pulling her forward.
“Come on,” she said quietly. “Let's go.”
Draco stood frozen for a long moment after Ella stormed off, he hadn’t expected her to react like that—so fiercely protective of Nancy, so willing to walk away from what he’d considered an important conversation.
With a frustrated exhale, Draco dragged a hand through his hair and turned toward the lake.
The boys had claimed their usual spot—a broad, flat rock that jutted out over the water, smoothed by years of wind and waves. It was secluded enough for private conversations but offered a clear view of the castle, making it the perfect place to talk without being overheard.
Theo lounged against the rock, idly skipping stones across the lake’s glassy surface. Lorenzo sat cross-legged, flipping through a worn copy of Magical Theory, though his attention kept drifting toward the path. Matthew perched on the edge, his legs dangling over the water, watching the giant squid’s tentacles break the surface in lazy curls.
All three looked up when Draco approached, their expressions shifting from expectation to surprise as they realized he was alone. “Where’s Ella?” Matthew asked, craning his neck as if she might be trailing behind.
The tension in Draco’s posture, the way his jaw was clenched just a fraction too tight. Theo raised an eyebrow, his smirk already forming. “He messed up,” he said, elbowing Lorenzo. “Look at his face. That’s not just ‘I’m annoyed’ — that’s ‘I did something real dumb.’”
Lorenzo chuckled, but his gaze remained fixed on Draco. “And what exactly did you do this time? You do surprise me, Draco. With how stupid you can be sometimes” Draco shot him a glare but didn’t retaliate. Instead, he dropped onto the rock beside them. “It wasn’t stupid,” he muttered. “I just… lost my temper.”
Matthew frowned. “With Ella?”
“No,” Draco admitted grudgingly. “With Nancy.”
A beat of silence. Then—
“You what?” Matthew’s voice was incredulous.
Theo snorted. “That’s a fantastic idea. Brilliant, really. The same Ella who defended Matthew for knowing him for five minutes?” He shook his head, grinning. “Yeah, no wonder you’re back here alone.”
Draco scowled. “I didn’t tell her off—As Politely as I could.” Lorenzo snorted. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
Draco looked up. “I told her to go. I needed to talk to Ella — just her. Nancy was standing there like some ornament, and I was already annoyed, so I just—”
“So you gave her a dirty look and told her to leave?” Matthew interrupted, disbelief written across his face. “In front of Ella?”
Draco nodded once, bracing himself. “You got impatient and acted like a prat,” Theo finished for him with a shrug. “Shocking.”
Lorenzo exhaled and said, “You picked the worst possible target. That girl would defend a rock if it was nice to her.” he said flatly. You need to learn to control your temper.”
“I know,” he admitted quietly. Matthew sighed, leaning back on his hands. “It’s understandable. Merlin knows I don’t like Nancy either.”
Lorenzo tapped his fingers thoughtfully against the rock before speaking. “Matthew, you’re the only one who can talk to her now. I doubt she’ll come with me or Theo. And as for him—” he pointed a finger at Draco, who sat sulking on the edge of the rock, head bowed — “I bet she’ll hex him on sight.”
Theo snorted in agreement. “Honestly? She might skip the wand and just punch you, Malfoy. Wouldn’t blame her.”
Matthew rubbed the back of his neck, let’s just hope she’s not locked away in the girls' dormitory already.” Theo leaned forward, “Later, after dinner, we’ll meet back here,” he said, nodding toward the rock. “You just bring her before curfew. And for Merlin’s sake, make sure Mrs. Norris or Peeves doesn’t see you.”
Everyone knew that if they got caught wandering the castle corridors after curfew, it would be a mess. Filch would make sure they all ended up scrubbing cauldrons or polishing trophies for a week, and worse — their House points would take a major hit, which none of them could afford with the upcoming Quidditch matches.
Later that evening, after a tense, silent dinner where Ella didn’t even glance at Draco, Matthew made his way toward the Slytherin common room.
The moment he entered, he spotted Ella. She was pacing near one of the green velvet sofas, frantically rifling through cushions, peeking under tables, checking behind the armchairs. Her movements were quick, jerky, full of nervous energy.
“What are you doing?” Matthew asked, his brow furrowing as he scanned the room, trying to figure out what had her so worked up. “I can’t find Lucy,” Ella said, her voice high and tinged with panic. “She never leaves the common room—I’ve checked everywhere. Under the beds, behind the bookshelves, even in the empty trunks. She’s just… gone.”
Matthew crouched beside her, scanning the room as if Lucy might suddenly materialize out of thin air. “We’ll find her,” offering a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. She’s probably just hiding somewhere — you know how she likes to sneak off.” offering a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. She’s probably just hiding somewhere — you know how she likes to sneak off.”
As he straightened, his gaze flickered toward the staircase leading to the girls’ dormitories. Nancy stood there, half-hidden in the shadows, her arms crossed over her chest. The look she gave him the unspoken judgment there. He knew exactly what she was thinking — the son of You-Know-Who.
Ella followed his line of sight and sighed. “Don’t mind her,” she muttered, brushing dust off her knees. “I’m glad you’re here to help me,” Ella said, pulling his attention back to her.
Matthew forced a small smile. “I wouldn’t leave you to search for Lucy on your own,” he said, and he meant it. For the next fifteen minutes, they combed every inch of the common room. They checked behind the heavy velvet curtains, beneath the scattered cushions, even inside the rarely used chessboard cabinet. But Lucy was nowhere to be found.
Ella finally collapsed onto the sofa, her shoulders slumping. “Do you think she got out somehow?” she asked, her voice small.
Matthew stood by the fireplace, his arms crossed as he frowned in thought. “It’s possible. Maybe someone left the door open just enough for her to slip through.”
Ella glanced at her watch, her face falling. “But there’s no time—we’ve got five minutes until curfew.”
Matthew hesitated, then grinned, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes. “Well, I’m going out anyway. You can stay here if you want, but I’m not letting Lucy stay missing all night.”
Ella hesitated, she knew it could land them both detention. But she also knew she couldn’t sit here doing nothing while Lucy could be lost and scared.
Without another word, she reached for her wand, gripping it tightly as she took a deep breath. “Let’s go find Lucy.” With that, they crept toward the common room’s entrance, pausing only to listen for any signs of Filch or his ever-watchful cat, Mrs. Norris.
They stepped out into the corridor, the stone wall sliding closed behind them with a deep grind that echoed far too loud. Every footstep, no matter how carefully placed, seemed to amplify. The portraits lining the walls dozed fitfully, their snores occasionally interrupted by a muttered word or a rustle of fabric.
One particularly grumpy-looking wizard in a gilded frame cracked an eye open as they passed, but Ella pressed a finger to her lips, and—miraculously—he simply rolled over and went back to sleep.
They walked on tiptoe, each step carefully placed, every footfall a cautious whisper against the stone. Ella clutched her wand tightly in one hand, her other arm brushing against Matthew’s sleeve as they moved in near synchronization. As they turned a corner near the library, Matthew suddenly stopped short, throwing an arm across Ella’s path.
Mrs. Norris.
“She’s looking right at us,” Matthew muttered under his breath.
“Shh,” she breathed, freezing in place. “Don’t move.”
But it was too late. With a drawn-out, piercing meow, somewhere in the distance, a door creaked open. “Run!” Matthew hissed, grabbing Ella’s wrist and yanking her forward. The moment their feet hit the floor at full speed, their shoes clacked loudly against the stone as they sprinted through the hallway, behind them, the shrill voice of a prefect rang out—”Who’s there?”—but they didn’t stop.
Ella’s lungs burned with the effort, her legs aching as she struggled to match Matthew’s pace. He seemed to know exactly where to go, taking sudden turns without hesitation, they barely avoided colliding with a suit of armor, which let out a metallic groan and sliding under floating staircases that began to move as they passed.
They passed startled portraits whose inhabitants shouted after them in outrage or confusion.
“Running in the halls!” cried a plump wizard in an oversized green hat, shaking his cane.
“Up to no good, that pair!” muttered a sour-faced witch who vanished in a swirl of her frame’s curtain.
They didn’t stop. Matthew’s grip on her hand was firm, guiding her as they turned another corner, then another. Ella’s breath was shallow now, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they burst through the door of an abandoned classroom on the third floor, Matthew threw the door shut quietly behind them.
Matthew raked a hand through his disheveled hair, his face flushed from the sprint.
“That—was—too close,” Ella panted, pressing a hand to her racing heart.
Matthew chuckled breathlessly, “Filch will have every prefect in the castle looking for us now,” he muttered.
Once they had calmed down, they peeked out the classroom door and slipped back into the hallway. This time they moved more carefully, their eyes scanning every shadow. They searched the Great Hall, the library, the astronomy tower, the cold night air biting at their cheeks as they scanned the parapets for any sign of Lucy.
As the hours slipped by and their hope began to wane, Ella couldn’t shake the gnawing worry in her gut. Lucy never wandered this far.
Ella’s fingers tightened around her wand, “What if she got stuck somewhere and can’t get out?” she whispered. Matthew gently placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said softly.
Ella nodded slowly, “Should we split up?” she asked after a moment, turning to look at him. “It might be faster.” Matthew hesitated, shaking his head. “I don’t think splitting up is a good idea. It’s safer if we stick together.”
“But it’ll take twice as long to search the castle if we stay together,” Ella argued, “We can cover more ground if we split up.” Matthew frowned, thinking it through. She had a point, but—
“No,” he said finally. “Never split up. That’s the first rule—well, me and Theo’s rule, to be exact. Every time we’ve tried splitting up, nine out of ten times we ended up with detention. It’s cursed or something. So the answer’s no.” He gestured decisively down the left corridor, ushering her forward.
Ella couldn’t help but grin, despite the gravity of the situation. “For me, it wasn’t that bad,” she said, a hint of pride in her voice. “Me and Tim always planned things and split up to finish them. Nine out of ten times, we pulled it off without getting caught. We called that a clean record, my friend.”
Matthew gave her a flat look. “Bragging much, aren’t you?”
Ella’s smirk widened. “Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” she teased, her tone light.
Matthew blinked. “What does that even mean?” he asked, rolling his eyes.
Ella laughed softly, “It’s a Muggle saying. It means you shouldn’t blame someone for playing a game well, even if the game itself is unfair or frustrating.” She tilted her head, eyes twinkling. “So, you two just need to make better plans.”
Matthew stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head. “Whatever, smart-head,” he grumbled, though there was no real bite to his words. Then, quieter, he added, “It’s more fun when we work together, anyway.”
Ella’s smile softened at that. “You’re right,” she admitted.
“Exactly,” Matthew said, his own smile mirroring hers.
The two of them crept down the dim hallway, the flickering torches casting long, wavering shadows on the stone walls. A soft meow broke the silence. Ella’s head whipped around. “Did you hear that?” Ella whispered.
Matthew, nodded slowly and raised a finger to his lips. Together, they edged closer to the corner, peering around it.
There, in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait, was Lucy. The Fat Lady was glaring down from her portrait with growing irritation, her cheeks puffed and her hands planted on her hips. “STOP THAT!” she snapped, her voice echoing down the corridor. “You’re going to ruin the frame, you horrid little creature!” Lucy, entirely unbothered, flicked her tail and continued her assault, her claws scraping against the varnished wood. The Fat Lady let out an exasperated sigh, throwing her hands up in defeat.
Matthew was biting back laughter. His shoulders were already shaking with amusement, and when he glanced at Ella’s horrified face, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. A quiet chuckle slipped out of him. Ella elbowed him sharply in the ribs.
“Ow—alright, alright, it’s not that funny,” Matthew said, though the grin tugging at his lips betrayed him. “But we should probably get out of here before the Fat Lady decides to tattle to Filch—or worse, Snape.”
Ella nodded in agreement, and the two approached the portrait cautiously. Matthew cleared his throat. “Er—sorry about Lucy disturbing you,” he said, offering the Fat Lady an apologetic smile. “We’ll make sure she doesn’t do it again.”
But the moment Ella leaned down and extended her hand, Lucy hissed. “Ow!” Ella gasped, jerking her hand back. She looked at her palm, where a faint red line was beginning to form. “That’s not very nice, Lucy,” she scolded, narrowing her eyes at the cat.
The cat merely blinked up at her with wide, it was clear she knew exactly what she’d done—and that she had absolutely no regrets. Ella stared at her, stunned for a second—then burst into quiet laughter. “You little minx,” she said, shaking her head. Ella stared at her, stunned for a second—then burst into quiet laughter. “You little minx,” she said, shaking her head.
Ella stiffened, taken aback by the venom in the portrait’s voice. “I—I didn’t let her do anything,” she stammered. “She’s just a cat! She doesn’t understand—”
“Oh, spare me your excuses!” the Fat Lady huffed, crossing her arms. “I bet you encouraged her! Typical Slytherin behavior!”
Matthew’s expression darkened. “You’re only saying that because we’re Slytherins,” he shot back, his voice edged with irritation. “If we were Gryffindors, you wouldn’t be accusing us of anything.”
The Fat Lady sniffed haughtily. “Of course not! Gryffindors are known for their honor and nobility—not for letting their pets vandalize priceless artwork!”
Ella felt her temper flare. “That’s ridiculous!” she said. “You can’t just judge an entire house based on—on one cat scratching your frame!”
Matthew, meanwhile, had crouched down to scratch Lucy behind the ears, completely unbothered by the argument. “She’s just a curious little thing,” he said fondly, grinning as the cat purred under his touch.
Ella couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all.
Matthew glanced up at her, his grin widening. “What? I’m soft for cute animals.”
“That is not the point!” the Fat Lady screeched, her painted face contorted in outrage. “You two are nothing but troublemakers!”
Ella rolled her eyes, still fighting back laughter. “Sure, whatever you say, Lady.” she replied, scooping up Lucy before the cat could cause any more chaos.
As they turned to leave, the Fat Lady’s furious muttering followed them down the hall. Matthew nudged Ella with his shoulder, his smirk returning. “Well, that could’ve gone worse.”
They stepped out of the castle and into the crisp night air. At this point, Ella was walking just a step behind Matthew, and she had no idea where he was taking her.
Ella inhaled deeply, the cool air filling her lungs. “I needed this,” she said softly, eyes drifting to the stars.
Matthew glanced at her, his smirk returning with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand briefly to tug her forward before releasing it again. “It’ll be fun. And... I’m sorry in advance.”
Ella eyed him suspiciously, “And why exactly are you apologizing in advance?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. He shrugged, clearly pleased with himself. “Just... in case.”
“In case what?”
“You’ll see,” he said cryptically.
The path they took veered towards the lake, the soft crunch beneath their shoes the only sound between them for a few moments. It was peaceful. That should’ve been her first clue that something was about to go wrong.
As they approached the edge of the lake, Ella slowed her pace.
Draco.
He was sitting on the sloped hill beside the lake, casually leaning back with Theo and Lorenzo beside him. Ella came to a full stop, her stomach twisting. She hadn’t expected this. She had no idea they would be here.
She stared at Matthew, her face betraying the swirl of emotions inside her, Matthew’s grin faded the moment he saw the look in her eyes. “Ella, wait—I didn’t mean for it to be like this—”
But it was too late, she turned sharply on her heel and stormed away from the group.
Draco had lifted his head by now, clearly taken aback. Theo and Lorenzo exchanged glances but said nothing, unsure whether to intervene.
“Ella, please!” Matthew called after her, his voice tight with panic and regret. “Just listen for a second, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She stopped in her tracks, her shoulders stiff, then slowly turned around. Her eyes locked onto his like daggers. “So this is what you were apologizing in advance for, huh?” Her voice was incredulous, shaking with restrained fury. “You knew exactly how I’d react.”
“I didn’t think you’d be this upset,” Matthew admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I figured it might be awkward, but—”
“Awkward?” she snapped. He winced. “Okay, bad choice of words.”
“No kidding,” she muttered, glancing back at the lake, where Draco now stood, watching silently. She took a deep breath, trying to keep herself from completely losing it. “You had time to tell me, back in the common room. You chose not to.”
Matthew shifted uncomfortably, sarcastic glint in his demeanor was gone. “You were searching for Lucy... then everything happened fast.”
Silence settled between them again. The wind tugged lightly at her hair, and for a moment, She glanced up at him, her voice suddenly quieter. “You know you still did have time to tell me, right?”
Matthew looked genuinely ashamed. “I know,” he murmured, then, in a desperate attempt, he added, “Come on, please? I’ll do anything you want.”
Ella raised a brow, still fuming but admittedly intrigued. “Anything?”
“Anything anything,” he said quickly, giving her a dramatic pout and those infamous puppy eyes he usually reserved for escaping detention or sweet-talking someone into sharing their chocolate frogs. “Just come back with me. I swear, you won’t regret it.”
Ella studied him, folding her arms over her chest. She watched the way his shoulders sagged, the way his eyes were serious now despite the playful tone. Finally, she sighed, her voice soft but pointed. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”
Matthew blinked. “Really?”
“But,” she added, her gaze drifting toward Draco, “on one condition.”
Draco watched Ella and Matthew walking toward them. He stiffened instinctively, half-expecting her to hex him on sight. Matthew, gave a double thumbs-up, as if to say “You’re not going to die. Probably.”
He didn’t waste time. “Draco,” he said, “You need to apologize to Ella. And promise her you’ll stop being so rude to Nancy.”
Draco blinked. “Excuse me?” he said, voice sharp with offense. “Why would I—?”
“She’s upset,” Matthew cut in, his voice low, “and you were out of line.” Draco’s scowl deepened.
“I don’t see why I should have to do that,” he snapped, sounding more like a sulking child than the composed Slytherin prince he liked to pretend he was.
Matthew crossed his arms, unmoved. “Because you were rude.”
“I wasn’t!” Draco shot back, his tone bordering on defensive. “Nancy’s the one who keeps pushing herself into conversations, always hovering, always looking like a kicked puppy. I didn’t ask for that.”
Draco didn’t think he was wrong for being rude to Nancy—not really. In his mind, she was just another annoying presence, buzzing around him like a persistent fly he couldn’t swat away. She was too eager, too loud, always inserting herself where she wasn’t wanted. And Draco had been raised to believe that people like that—people who didn’t understand their place—deserved to be put in theirs.
So when he sneered at her, or made snide remarks under his breath, or ignored her entirely, he didn’t see it as cruel. He saw it as honest. If Nancy couldn’t take the hint, that was her problem, not his.
Ella rubbed her forehead, “Maybe she just wants to be your friend,” she said carefully, “She might not know any other way to show it.”
Draco gave a dismissive snort. “I don’t really want to make new friends.”
She hadn’t expected him to say that. And for a moment, her mind spiraled. If Draco didn’t want any new friends, what did that mean about her? The words shouldn’t have stung as much as they did. But they did. Because Ella had thought—foolishly, perhaps—that she might be the exception. That whatever small things existed between them meant something.
She stared at him, her voice suddenly small. “What about me, then?” Draco froze, his bravado vanishing in an instant. Her words hit harder than he expected.
“No—of course not!” he said quickly, his voice softening. “I didn’t mean you. I meant Nancy.” He looked at the others—Matthew, Theo, Lorenzo—and for once, felt completely exposed. He didn’t like being wrong.
There was a long moment of silence, Then, Draco exhaled sharply through his nose and muttered, “Fine.”
Ella crossed her arms. “Fine, what?”
Draco’s jaw tightened, but he forced the words out like they physically pained him. “Fine, I’m… sorry.” He glanced at Matthew, then back at Ella, his voice dropping. “I shouldn’t have done that to Nancy, I’ll stop. I’ll try, at least.”
Matthew clapped his hands together. “There! Was that so hard?”
Draco shot him a glare. “Yes.”
Ella gave a slow, measured nod. “Okay,” she said quietly. “I believe you. But… you need to do something for me first.”
Draco blinked. “What?”
“A pinky promise,” she said, her lips curling into a small smile.
Draco tilted his head, clearly puzzled. “A what now?”
“It’s a Muggle thing,” Ella added quickly, her smile fading just a bit as she glanced at the others, bracing herself for a snide remark. Most Slytherins had a habit of mocking anything remotely Muggle-related, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if the teasing started now.
But to her relief, there was no mockery—just curiosity.
“That’s a new thing to know,” Lorenzo said with a shrug.
Matthew and Theo both nodded. “I’ve never heard of that,” Theo said thoughtfully.
Ella brightened. “It’s… a promise you make by linking your pinkies together,” she explained, holding up her little finger.
Draco frowned slightly, clearly trying to piece it together. “So… it’s like a magical contract?” he asked slowly. “Like the Unbreakable Vow, but… with fingers instead of wands?”
Ella let out a soft laugh. “I read about The Unbreakable Vow. This is more… lighthearted. It’s symbolic, not binding.”
“And if you break it?” he asked, almost cautiously.
“You don’t die,” Ella said, amused. “But you do break trust. That’s the important part.”
Draco hesitated. He had been raised on pureblood customs, on formal oaths and wand-sealed contracts. The idea of binding a promise with nothing more than a finger felt ridiculous. And yet… Ella was watching him, waiting.
He had already upset her once tonight. He wasn’t eager to do it again.
With a sigh, he lifted his hand, his pinky hovering awkwardly in the air. “So… we just…?”
Ella’s smile softened. “Yeah. Just hook yours with mine.”
Draco hesitated for only a second longer before linking his pinky with hers, his fingers stiff at first, as if he wasn’t quite sure how much pressure to apply. Ella gave his finger a gentle squeeze, sealing the promise.
“There,” she said, her voice warm. “Now you have to keep your word.”
Draco looked down at their joined fingers, then back at her. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
He exhaled, half-relieved, half-amused. “Muggles are weird.”
Ella glanced around at the boys, suddenly aware of how all three of them were watching her and Draco, expressions ranging from amused to intrigued. She could feel her cheeks warming. “What?” she asked, a little defensive.
Theo was the first to break, chuckling as he nudged Lorenzo. “Nothing, it's just—” He gestured between Ella and Draco. “Never thought I'd see Draco Malfoy agree to something so... Muggle.”
Draco shot him a glare, but it lacked its usual bite. “Shut it, Nott,” he muttered, though there was an odd defensiveness in his tone—as if he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d gone along with it either, though Draco would never admit it, the pinky promise didn’t feel as silly as he’d thought it would.
Draco said, “A promise is a promise. And I always keep my word.” “I’ll hold you to that,” Ella said with a playful grin. Draco looked at her, then gave a slight nod—serious again, in his quiet way.
Lorenzo smirked. “So, what does this mean, then? If you pinky promise someone, does that make you friends?” Ella blinked, surprised by how easily he’d said it out loud. “I… I guess so,” she said softly, a smile playing at her lips. She wasn’t sure if a pinky promise really made you friends.
“Alright, fine.” Lorenzo held out his pinky. “If it’s good enough for Draco, it’s good enough for me.”
Theo snorted but followed suit. “Merlin help us. Next thing you know, we’ll be hugging.”
Matthew linked his pinky with Theo’s, grinning. “Don’t give Ella ideas.”
Ella looked at the four of them—Draco, Matthew, Theo, and Lorenzo—and something shifted quietly inside her. It was like something in her chest had finally loosened, a knot she hadn’t even realized was there. Maybe… just maybe, she could trust them. Really trust them.
They all let out a collective chuckle, the sound light and unforced, and for the first time in Hogwarts, Ella felt like she wasn’t just tagging along. She was part of it. Of them. Of something.
Matthew nudged her lightly with his shoulder. “You’re stuck with us now,” he said, half-joking, half-serious.
Ella rolled her eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh. “I suppose I am,” she replied with mock resignation. “Merlin help me.”
As they settled into the grass by the Black Lake, surrounded by cushions they'd sneaked out and the picnic basket Matthew had somehow managed to charm away from the kitchens, Ella's eyes caught on the food. It wasn’t just the usual Hogwarts fare. It was… more.
The pastries were delicate and beautiful, almost too pretty to eat—tiny sugared violets pressed into the tops, light dustings of powdered sugar that caught the late afternoon light like snowflakes. The sandwiches were filled with things like herbed goat cheese, cucumber ribbons, and enchanted honey-glazed ham that shimmered faintly with magic. And the chocolate cake—the cake—was a masterpiece.
Ella blinked. “This… this isn’t what we usually get in the Great Hall.”
Matthew grinned. “Same kitchens. The house-elves just got creative today.”
“Turns out,” Theo added, sipping his pumpkin juice, “if you flatter them enough and drop a few hints about how much you adore delicate pastries, they go all out.”
“They seemed thrilled, honestly,” Lorenzo said with a shrug. “Like we gave them a little holiday.”
She smiled and said. “Then I guess I’ll have to eat everything, just to make sure their work doesn’t go to waste.”
“Now that’s the spirit,” Matthew laughed.
Ella’s eyes wandered over the spread of food until they landed on a large bowl of what looked like heaven in dessert form. A creamy, chocolatey pudding sat in the center like a crown jewel, smooth and glistening, practically calling her name. Without thinking, she reached for a spoon.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Theo warned, his voice a perfect blend of ominous and amused.
Ella paused, her spoon hovering midair. “Why not?” she asked, brows knitting in confusion. “It’s just pudding, right?”
Draco leaned back on his elbows and shook his head dramatically. “Oh, you poor, naive first year.”
Theo a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That,” he said, gesturing to the bowl with a flourish, “is no ordinary dessert. That is Bouncing Belly Pudding.”
Ella blinked. “Bouncing what?”
“Belly Pudding,” Theo repeated, voice low. “One bite, and you’ll be bouncing around like a Bludger on fire.”
“Bouncing Belly Pudding?” she repeated slowly, her spoon hovering over the dessert. “That’s not even a real thing.”
Theo pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“Yes,” Ella said flatly.
“I’m not!” Theo said, managing to look deadly serious despite the obvious mirth in his eyes. “I’ve seen it before. Poor Ravenclaw girl last year took two bites and nearly ricocheted off the library ceiling.”
Ella turned to Draco, silently begging for some confirmation. Her, spoon slowly lowering. “He is kidding, right?”
Draco crossed his arms and nodded solemnly. “It was chaos. Madam Pince had to levitate her down.”
Lorenzo, clearly trying not to laugh, leaned over and stage-whispered, “She left pudding trails on there for days.”
Ella stared at the pudding bowl, her stomach doing flips. She could already feel the imagined bounce beginning in her legs. But still… it did look delicious.
With a hesitant glance at each of them, Ella hesitated. Then, with a defiant glare, she scooped up a spoonful and shoved it into her mouth.
Silence.
The pudding was… perfect. Velvety, sweet, and completely, utterly normal.
A beat passed.
“Oh, Merlin—” Lorenzo burst out laughing, doubling over. “Your face—”
Theo was wheezing, clutching his stomach. “You—you actually fell for it!”
Ella’s cheeks burned. “You absolute—”
Matthew wiped tears from his eyes. “I can’t believe you actually thought—”
“Very funny, Theo,” she deadpanned.
Theo couldn’t hold it in anymore. He burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. “You should’ve seen your face!”
Draco was chuckling too, though he tried to play it cool. Ella narrowed her eyes at Theo, spoon still in hand. “Next time, I’m hexing you.”
Theo laughed and said. “Fair warning taken.”
Then broke into laughter herself. And just like that, the pudding became part of the memory—funny, silly, and warm. Ella took another bite, savoring the rich chocolate, this time without fear. Somehow, being pranked by them made her feel even more like part of the group.
Draco, Matthew, Theo, and Lorenzo exchanged a glance, mischief sparkling in their eyes.
“You all look like you’re up to something,” Ella said, narrowing her eyes and trying to sound casual.
Matthew rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at his lips gave him away. “Of course we are.”
“I’ll give you a hint,” Lorenzo said, leaning in a little closer, his tone teasing. “It involves something called Fluffy.”
Ella’s eyes widened. She let out a surprised laugh and reached down to pat Lucy, her loyal cat curled in her lap. “I know about Fluffy,” she said. “But now you’ve got me all curious about what you four have been up to.”
“Sorry to leave you hanging,” Draco said with a sheepish smile. “We’ve been looking into Fluffy, and turns out, he is the three-headed dog.”
“We overheard the Gryffindor trio talking after Potions class,” Matthew added. “They weren’t exactly subtle.”
Ella sat up straighter, clearly intrigued. “And?”
“We might’ve considered… scouting the area,” Draco admitted, inspecting his nails.
Lorenzo hastily added, “From a safe distance! We’re not idiots.”
“Good,” Ella said, her tone half-relieved, half-scolding. “Because I would seriously worry if you did.”
“Well…” Matthew began, glancing at Theo, “we thought about it.”
Theo grinned. “But then we decided we weren’t quite ready to be Fluffy’s afternoon snack.”
Ella let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Honestly, I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned.”
“We haven’t given up on it,” Theo said, his tone light but meaningful.
“We’ve just put it on hold,” Matthew finished smoothly. “But for now, I’m happy being right here. This? This is way better than dodging giant teeth and claws.”
Ella chuckled, eyes warm as she looked at all of them.
“What do you think Fluffy is guarding? The Stone? What is it?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.
“We’ve hit a dead end, on that.” Draco added with a note of frustration. “We’ve gone through every book we could find. Asked questions. Listened. Still, nothing.”
Ella’s shoulders slumped slightly. She hated not having answers. “So... we’ve got a magical creature guarding something at Hogwarts. But no clue what is it.”
Draco nodded. “Yes.”
“But we promise,” he said, turning toward her with a more serious expression, “if we find anything new—we’ll tell you right away. You’re part of this now. Part of.”
And so, the five of them spent the rest of the evening chatting and laughing, the mystery of Fluffy and what he is guarding temporarily forgotten.
The castle loomed ahead, its towering silhouette cutting against the starry sky as the group made their way back from the Black Lake. Ella felt the weight in her chest begin to grow heavier with each step. The warmth of the evening—the jokes, the food, the sense of belonging—was slowly giving way to unease.
Do they know?
She stole glances at the boys as they walked—Matthew humming under his breath, Theo and Lorenzo debating the best way to sneak in after hours, Draco with his hands in his pockets, staring ahead like he was already plotting their next move. They’d accepted her so easily tonight.
I have no family name to offer, no proud pureblood lineage—just herself, a girl who’d gotten her Hogwarts letter by sheer luck and still pinched herself sometimes to believe it was real.
Ella had grown used to keeping those parts of herself tucked away. Not because she was ashamed, but because she knew how quickly people changed once they knew. She’d seen it with other students in Slytherin—how sneers replaced smiles, how whispers followed you through the halls. There were already classmates who eyed her with suspicion, who questioned how someone like her had ended up in their house.
And now... she was laughing with four boys who carried last names that held weight. Names that meant something in the wizarding world.
They’re Slytherins. They care about blood. Everyone knows that.
Finally, Ella decided to take a deep breath and just go for it.
“Hey,” she said, stopping in her tracks.
The others turned to look at her, curious.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” she continued, her voice a little shaky. “I’m a muggle-born... and an orphan too.”
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with vulnerability. Ella’s hands trembled slightly at her sides as she waited—for the sneers, the coldness, the moment everything changed.
But it never came.
Ella blinked. “What?”
Lorenzo shrugged. “Some first-year prat—Marcus—was running his mouth in the common room weeks ago. Bragging about how he ‘figured out’ your blood status.” He rolled his eyes.
Theo snorted. “Kid acts like he’s the heir of Slytherin just because his great-uncle once shook hands with an actual one of the great-grand-grand-grand sons of Salazar Slytherin.”
Ella’s breath left her in a rush. They’d known. All this time. And yet—
“You never said anything, I was so worried that you all would change your mind.” she whispered.
Draco, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke. “Why would we?” His tone was casual,”Just so you know, if my mum likes you, then automatically I’m going to like you too.”
The simplicity of it struck her. All her fear, all her hesitation—and they’d already chosen their answer.
Ella, said smiling warmly. “Your mother is such a kind woman—please tell her I say hi. And that I’m taking good care of Lucy.”
Draco nodded. “I will.”
Then Theo spoke, his voice softer. “You’re not the only orphan in our group, you know. My parents died when I was very young. I was raised by my uncle.”
Ella’s smile faded slightly, the casual way he said it—my parents died when I was very young—hit her like a punch to the chest. She knew that tone. She’d used it herself a hundred times, brushing off pity, pretending it didn’t still ache.
For a moment, she couldn’t speak.
Theo gave her a small, knowing smile, as if he understood exactly what she was thinking. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said lightly. “I’m fine.”
But Ella knew. She knew the hollow nights in the orphanage, staring at the ceiling, wondering what her parents’ voices had sounded like. She knew the way strangers’ eyes would soften when they found out, their words dripping with sympathy that only made them feel the loneliness more. She knew the envy that curled in her stomach when she saw other children with their families.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, Theo shrugged, but his usual smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal.”
Liar, she thought.
Matthew suddenly slung an arm around her shoulders. “Marcus is a troll-faced idiot who’s desperate to feel important. But he’s nothing. And if he ever tries to pull that crap again?” His grin turned sharp. “Well. Let’s just say he’ll regret it.”
Theo cracked his knuckles. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to test that new Jelly-Legs Jinx.”
Lorenzo nodded. “And I accidentally memorized the spell for turning hair color.”
Ella laughed, the weight she’d carried for months—gone. Just like that. “Thanks,” she said, her voice thick. “For… everything.”
The group shared a moment of quiet understanding, something deeper than the laughter they shared. Then, like magic pulling them gently back to normalcy, they continued their walk toward the common room, their earlier energy returning.
By the time they reached the common room, they were chatting and laughing again, “let’s do it again.” Theo whispered, his voice hushed as they slipped inside.
“Goodnight, everyone,” Ella murmured, giving her friends a sleepy smile. And with that, they made their way to their rooms. As Ella curled beneath her blanket that night, already looking forward to the next time they’d all be together.
The next morning, Ella was awoken by the soft touch of fur brushing her cheek. She blinked her eyes open to see Lucy perched on her pillow, gently batting at her face with a tiny paw.
“Good morning, Lucy,” Ella murmured, Lucy purred instantly, curling against her neck while Ella stretched beneath the covers, feeling surprisingly content. She stayed under the warm blankets for a moment longer, soaking in the calm before slipping out of bed and heading down the spiral staircase toward the common room.
As she descended, her thoughts shifted to Nancy. She hadn’t seen her in the dormitory. Would Nancy be upset? Would she think Ella had chosen the boys over her?
The moment she stepped into the common room, she spotted her. Nancy stood near the fireplace, a book in her hands, bathed in the soft glow of the morning flames.
“There you are,” Ella said with a rush of relief, hurrying over and wrapping her arms tightly around her friend.
Nancy looked up, clearly startled, but then relaxed as she hugged Ella back. “I was worried when you didn’t come back to the common room last night,” she said quietly.
“I’m sorry, Nancy,” Ella replied sincerely, pulling back enough to look her in the eye. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I just got caught up talking to the boys and completely lost track of time.”
Nancy raised an eyebrow, confused. “What boys?”
Ella gave her a small, sheepish smile. “Draco, Matthew, Theo, and Lorenzo.”
Nancy blinked. “And… you talked to Draco?”
Ella nodded, more confidently this time. “I did. About yesterday.”
Nancy’s eyes widened in surprise. “And he actually listened to you?”
Ella laughed softly. “I know. Shocking, right? But yes. I’m not saying he’s suddenly going to be perfect, but he promised he wouldn’t be rude to you again.”
Nancy stared at her for a long moment, the disbelief slowly melting into a hopeful expression. “That’s… more than I could’ve hoped for,” she said, visibly relaxing. “Thank you, Ella. Really.”
“I told you,” Ella said gently. “He just needs time.”
Nancy hesitated, not sure how to bring up the subject. “I'm not sure if you know about... about their reputation,” she said, her voice faltering.
Ella's brow furrowed in confusion. “You mean Matthew?” she asked, not sure what Nancy was referring to. “About his parents?”
Nancy took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to say. “Draco and Lorenzo parents and Theo’s uncle, all of them were Death Eaters too.”
Ella's eyes widened in shock as Nancy's words sank in. “That's....,” she said, her voice full of disbelief.
Nancy nodded, her expression grim. “I know.”
“I... I didn't know,” she finally managed to say, Nancy reached to squeeze Ella's hand. “I'm sorry to just drop that on you. I thought you should know, since you're getting close to them.”
Ella nodded slowly. “Thank you, Nancy. For telling me.” Nancy looked down, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “I know they’ve been kind to you. And I’m not saying you should stop being their friend. I just thought you deserved to know.”
Ella thought back to all the times she'd noticed strange silences falling when their names were mentioned in the common room, the way some students would subtly shift away from their group. Pieces were clicking into place now.
Ella said slowly, “They don't seem like...” She trailed off, unable to finish the thought. Nancy said gently. “They're not their parents. But everyone knows their families' histories. It follows them everywhere.”
Then, after a pause, Ella said with quiet conviction, “They didn't choose their parents, they shouldn't be judged for something they had no control over. They’ve been nothing but kind to me.”
“I know,” Nancy sighed. “But wizarding politics are complicated. Families like the Malfoys, Berkshires and Notts... their names carry a lot of baggage.”
Ella said, “I don't care, and I'm not going to stop being their friend because of it. In fact, I'm glad I got to meet Mrs. Malfoy and see how kind she was to me, buying me everything I needed for Hogwarts and even gifting me Lucy. It was really helpful, especially since I was nervous about it everything and how it was all new to me.”
She paused, “Mrs. Malfoy didn't have to help some strange Muggle-born girl, but she did. Doesn't that count for something?”
“That's really sweet of her,” Nancy said, a smile playing on her lips.
“It was,” Ella said, a warm feeling in her chest.
Nancy gave her a small, understanding smile. “Whatever you decide, I'm with you. Just... be careful, okay?”
Ella reached out and gave Nancy’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you. I know you’re just looking out for me. And I promise—I’ll be careful.”
The stone corridors of Hogwarts echoed with the chatter of students as Ella and Nancy made their way to their first class of the day. The morning sunlight streamed through the high arched windows, casting golden patterns on the flagstone floors.
“I'm actually really enjoying Transfiguration this term,” Ella said, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. Her eyes sparkled, reflecting her genuine excitement. “Professor McGonagall is incredible. She makes even the complicated stuff feel like it makes sense.”
“I know, right?” Nancy replied, her face lighting up. “My favorite thing about her, though,” Ella continued, voice lowering as if sharing a secret, “is how she can turn into a cat. It's the coolest thing ever. Imagine just... shifting like that whenever you want!”
Nancy gasped, clutching Ella’s arm. “I wonder if we’ll ever learn to do that ourselves! Animagus transformation is NEWT-level magic, but imagine—being able to turn into an animal whenever you wanted!”
Ella’s imagination immediately took flight. “I’d want to be a phoenix,” she declared, her eyes sparkling. “Can you imagine? Flying without worrying about falling—or messing up your hair?” She laughed, as she ran a hand through her hair.
Nancy’s jaw dropped. “A phoenix? That would be incredible! They’re practically immortal, right? And their tears can heal wounds!”
“Plus, they’re beautiful,” Ella sighed, picturing herself with brilliant scarlet and gold plumage, soaring above the castle towers. “And they’re known for being intelligent and loyal. It’s the perfect form.”
“That’s honestly perfect.” Nancy nodded. “I think I’d be a fox. Clever, quick. Kind of sneaky, but in a cute way.”
They spent the walk playfully debating Animagus forms, talking about which animals suited which of their friends. By the time classes wrapped up for the day, the castle had grown warmer with the golden haze of afternoon light. Ella stretched her arms, relieved to be free from the confines of the dungeon after hours of Potions.
“Quidditch practice today!” Nancy announced, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. “The Slytherin team’s been training hard for the first match. We have to go watch!”
Ella smiled fondly at her friend’s enthusiasm. Nancy was a die-hard Quidditch fan—she could recite player stats like poetry, knew every team’s history by heart, and had even been known to place the occasional bet on match outcomes.
“Of course,” Ella replied with a smile. “Lead the way.”
Nancy launched into a detailed breakdown of the latest league matches, her hands animated as she rattled off player names and game highlights like a seasoned commentator. “Did you hear about the Veorr’s new Seeker? Absolute wonder. Only sixteen, and already caught three Snitches in a row under ten minutes each—”
Ella, amused, listened contentedly as Nancy’s voice rose and fell with the cadence of someone truly in love with what they were talking about. It wasn’t just a hobby for Nancy. Quidditch was her language, her passion—her way of connecting with the world.
Ella smiled, feeling lucky to be part of that world now too, even if she didn’t always understand the strategy or the thrill of it the way Nancy did.
As they neared the Quidditch pitch, the distant shouts of players and the whoosh of broomsticks grew louder. The team was already in the air, their emerald-green robes flashing as they darted across the field.
Nancy let out an excited squeak and broke into a run, her scarf fluttering behind her. Ella followed at a more leisurely pace. The crisp autumn air carried the scent of grass and polish from the brooms, and the stands were already filling with students eager to watch the practice.
As they settled into their seats, Nancy leaned forward eagerly, eyes scanning every movement on the field. Ella tucked her coat tighter around her, settling in beside her, happy to let the energy of the game and Nancy’s excitement wash over her.
For a little while, Hogwarts didn’t feel so heavy.
“Look! They’re running the Dragon Attacking Formation!” she said, pointing as the Chasers weaved through the air in a tight, arrowhead-shaped pattern.
Ella squinted, trying to follow the blur of motion. ”How can you even tell who’s who up there?”
Nancy scoffed. ”Please. Flint’s the one with the terrible haircut, Tom’s in goal, and that’s Mike with the—OH MERLIN, DID YOU SEE THAT SAVE?”
Ella laughed as Nancy nearly fell out of the stands in excitement. For the next hour, she let herself get swept up in her friend’s passion, cheering when Nancy cheered, gasping when a Bludger came dangerously close to a player.
Ella leaned forward slightly, watching the players soar through the sky with a mix of awe and confusion. She squinted toward a group of three students weaving in and out of formation.
“What do the three over there do?” she asked, pointing to the trio darting back and forth in synchronized formation, tossing a red ball between them.
Nancy’s face lit up with the eager glow of someone about to explain their favorite subject shifting into what Ella had come to know as ‘Quidditch Professor Mode.’.
“Well, there are seven positions on a Quidditch team,” she began, ticking them off on her fingers. “First, you’ve got the Seeker—that’s Draco. His job is to catch the Golden Snitch. It’s tiny, stupidly fast, with wings, and worth a hundred and fifty points, so it’s basically the most important role.”
Ella squinted at Draco, who was hovering near the edge of the pitch, his sharp eyes scanning the air like a hawk. Every now and then, he’d tilt his broom sharply, as if he’d spotted something, only to grimace when it turned out to be a glint of sunlight.
“Then you’ve got the Beaters—Theo and Matthew,” Nancy continued, pointing to where the two boys were whacking iron Bludgers toward imaginary opponents. “They’re the ones with the big bats. Their job is to protect their team and knock the other players off course. Basically, they’re the reason Quidditch is so dangerous.”
As if to prove her point, Theo swung his bat with a vicious crack, sending a Bludger rocketing toward a practice dummy. It exploded into a cloud of straw, and Matthew whooped, giving Theo a high-five midair.
“Then there’s the Keeper—Tom over there,” Nancy said, gesturing to a burly seventh-year guarding the hoops. “He’s the last line of defense. If the Chasers from the other team try to score, he’s the one who blocks it, and be really good at reading the opposing team's moves.”
“And the other three?” Ella asked, watching as the remaining players passed a Quaffle between them.
“Those are the Chasers,” Nancy said, her voice tinged with admiration. “Their job is to score goals by throwing the Quaffle through those hoops. Ten points per goal. They’ve got to be fast, agile, and have killer aim.”
One of the Chasers—a tall girl with a long black braid—suddenly twisted in midair, hurling the Quaffle straight through the center hoop before the Keeper could react. The small crowd in the stands erupted in cheers.
Ella’s head spun, trying to absorb it all. “That’s a lot to keep track of,” she said, laughing under her breath. “it’s Like a mix of rugby, dodgeball, and flying.”
Nancy grinned. “Exactly! Controlled on broomsticks.”
As the practice continued, Ella found herself mesmerized by the rhythm of it all.
But it was Draco who stole her attention the most. He soared through the air with the ease of someone born for it, like gravity bent slightly in his favor. His blond hair whipped back as he cut through the sky. At one point, he dipped and spun in a breathtaking twist motion that drew a few whistles from the stands, then came to an effortless hover, eyes locked on the snitch.
Ella turned to Nancy, smiling. “I think Draco’s pretty good, don’t you?”
Nancy’s lips twitched, but her gaze stayed fixed on the pitch. “He’s amazing, I’ll give him that,” she said, then leaned slightly closer. “But honestly? I like the Keeper more.”
Nancy’s hands clenched in her lap, her eyes gleaming. “I’m counting down the days until I can try out. I know I’ve got years of practice ahead of me, but I don’t care. I’m going to train every single day until I’m good enough. Slytherin has the best team in the school, and I will be a part of it.”
Ella’s heart warmed at the passion in her friend’s voice. “You’ll make it. And when you do, I’ll be right here, screaming my lungs out for you.”
Nancy laughed, bumping her shoulder against Ella’s. “Better start practicing your cheers now, then. Because when I’m Slytherin’s first female Keeper in a decade, you’re going to need stamina.” Ella grinned. “Oh, I’ll be ready.”
“Hey, Ella!” Matthew’s voice rang out across the pitch as he spotted her in the stands. He waved enthusiastically, nearly losing his grip on his bat in the process.
Ella grinned and waved back. “I’m doing great, thanks! What about you guys?”
“Can’t complain!” Theo called, flashing her a smile. “Just working on our Quidditch skills—”
THWACK.
A Bludger came rocketing out of nowhere, slamming straight into Theo’s shoulder and sending him spiraling off his broom. He hit the ground with a grunt, rolling to a stop in the grass as Matthew burst into laughter, barely dodging the same Bludger as it fly away.
“THEO!” Ella gasped, scrambling out of the stands and sprinting onto the field before Nancy could stop her.
Theo was already sitting up by the time she reached him, rubbing his arm with a wince. “I’m fine,” he assured her, though his grin was a little strained. “ Nothing broken.”
Matthew landed beside them, still chuckling. “That’s what you get for showing off.”
Ella hovered anxiously. “Are you sure you’re okay? That looked like it hurt!”
Theo waved her off, though his face was still pinched. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to worry,” he said, standing and brushing grass off his robes. “Just head back to the stands where it’s safe. We’ll be fine out here.”
Ella hesitated, biting her lip. “Promise you’ll be careful?”
Theo gave her a lazy salute. “Promise.”
Reluctantly, Ella turned back toward the stands—only to nearly collide with Draco as he swooped down beside her, his broom kicking up a small gust of wind that sent her short hair fluttering.
“Hey there,” he said. “What do you think of practice so far?”
Nancy, immediately brightened. “It’s amazing!” she gushed. “The way you all move together—it’s like you’re reading each other’s minds!”
Draco smirked, clearly pleased. “Thank you. It takes a lot of—”
His words cut off abruptly as his gaze snapped to something over Ella’s shoulder. His entire body went still, eyes locking onto a tiny, fluttering glint of gold near the far goalposts.
Without another word, Draco leaned forward, and in a flash, he was off like a shot, flying across the pitch with terrifying speed.
“Merlin,” Nancy whispered. “He’s really good.”
Ella’s breath caught in her throat as she watched him fly—every movement precise, every turn razor-sharp. He was a blur, weaving between Chasers and ducking Bludgers without so much as a glance away from his target.
Then— a loud bell from the direction of the castle echoed across the grounds, jarring them from the moment.
“Oh no.”
Nancy’s horrified whisper snapped Ella out of her thoughts. “We’re going to be late for Binns,” Ella groaned.
Nancy grabbed her arm, already dragging her toward the castle. “We have to run. You know how he is about tardiness.”
Ella cast one last longing look at the Quidditch pitch—where Draco was now in a steep dive, his fingers outstretched toward the Snitch—before breaking into a sprint beside Nancy.
“It’s like he takes it as a personal insult when someone walks in late,” Ella panted as they raced up the stone steps.
“Because he does,” Nancy wheezed. “Remember when Marcus was five minutes late and Binns made him write an essay on the Goblin Rebellion in Gobbledegook?”
Ella shuddered. “Point taken.” They slipped into the History of Magic classroom, breathless and barely composed, collapsing into their seats just as the ghostly form of Professor Binns phased seamlessly through the blackboard. He floated to the front of the class without so much as a glance at the students, already mid-sentence in his signature droning voice.
Nancy shot Ella a triumphant grin, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “Made it,” she whispered, her voice a mix of amusement and relief.
Ella grinned back, her cheeks slightly flushed from the sprint, but her thoughts were still trailing behind her. Her mind replayed Theo’s reckless smile just before the bludger struck, Matthew’s infectious laughter as he dodged it, and most vividly—Draco’s elegant, razor-sharp chase after the Snitch.
She leaned back in her chair, already drifting into daydreams. “I can’t wait to see them play for real,” she whispered.
Professor Binns’s voice filled the room like a slow-moving fog, heavy and impossible to escape. Ella blinked herself back to focus, exchanging a look with Nancy. The two of them had long ago agreed that History of Magic was the most sleep-inducing class at Hogwarts. They’d even made a competition out of it: who could stay awake the longest without dozing off.
“I think you’re going to lose this time,” Nancy whispered with a smirk, tapping her quill rhythmically against the desk. “I got a full eight hours of sleep last night. I’m fresh and ready.”
“We’ll see about that,” Ella murmured, mirroring her smirk and determined to win this round. “You underestimate how stubborn I can be when pride’s involved.”
Minutes turned into what felt like hours. The lecture continued in the same lifeless tone, Binns floating back and forth. Around them, the soft rustle of robes, shifting chairs.
Ella’s eyes grew heavy. She blinked rapidly, propping her chin up with one hand. Beside her, Nancy had begun scribbling random doodles on the edge of her parchment.
As Professor Binns droned on about a particularly tedious disagreement over wand regulation, Ella elbowed Nancy softly, whispering, “Still feeling fresh?”
Nancy stifled a laugh. “Barely.”
By the time class finally ended, both girls groaned in unison. Their parchment was mostly blank, except for a few half-hearted notes and more of Nancy’s increasingly elaborate drawings.
“That was actual torture,” Nancy muttered as they stumbled out into the corridor.
“I think my brain is still half asleep,” Ella said, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “Seriously, how can he talk that long without taking a breath? Does being a ghost mean you don’t need to catch your breath?”
“I don’t know, but I definitely need food,” Nancy said, clutching her stomach dramatically. “And maybe an entire cauldron of coffee.”
Ella gave a tired chuckle, but her eyes were drooping with every step. The warmth of the castle halls and the lingering mental fog from class made her feel even more sluggish. She nearly tripped over a step as they walked toward the Great Hall.
“I need to wash my face,” she said, her voice thick with sleep. “I'm afraid I'll fall asleep while we're eating.”
Nancy nodded, yawning herself. “Go on, I’ll grab us a spot. If I fall asleep before you get there, just poke me with a fork.”
Ella smiled sleepily. “Deal.” gave her a thumbs-up and turned toward the nearest girls’ bathroom, her footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.
The sound of muffled sobs cut through the quiet hum of the bathroom, pulling Ella's attention away from the sink where she was splashing water on her face.
Ella hesitated, her hands still dripping, as she turned toward the row of stalls. Should I say something? This was a private moment, and part of her thought it would be intrusive to say anything.
She thought of all the times she'd cried alone in the orphanage, wishing someone—anyone—would notice. Before she could second-guess herself, she approached the last stall and knocked gently on the door.
“Are you okay?” she asked, trying to make her tone comforting, not alarming. “Is there anything I can do to help?” There was a long pause. For a moment, Ella wondered if whoever was inside would answer at all. But then a shaky voice replied, “I—I’m not sure. I’m just… so upset.”
Ella leaned against the stall door, her heart aching at the raw pain in the girl's voice. “Have you ever been bullied before?” the girl whispered, so quietly Ella almost missed it.
The question hit Ella like a punch, Memories flashed through her mind—Marcus's sneering face, the whispers of “Mudblood” in the Slytherin common room, the way some students deliberately bumped into her in the halls.
“Yes,” she answered, her voice low. “I have. And not just once. It hurts more than people think it should, doesn’t it?” Ella swallowed hard. “I'm being bullied by my own housemates,” she confessed, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “It's because I'm Muggle-born, and they think I don't belong here. And to make things worse, I'm an orphan.”
A sharp gasp came from the stall, followed by a fresh wave of tears. “I'm so sorry you're going through all of that,” the girl choked out. “That's really awful.”
Ella blinked back her own tears, surprised by how much it hurt to say those things aloud.
Ella nodded, even though the other girl couldn’t see her. “Neither should you.” “Let’s get you out of here,” Ella said gently. “You shouldn’t be crying alone in a bathroom stall.”
There was a long pause, so long Ella began to worry she’d pushed too far. But then came the faint rustle of movement—the scrape of shoes on the tiled floor, the soft click of a lock, and finally, the door creaked open.
The girl stepped out slowly, her face flushed and her cheeks streaked with tears. Her curly brown hair framed her face in wild, frizzy curls.
“Hermione?” Ella blurted before she could stop herself.
She recognized her instantly—Gryffindor’s top student, the girl always seen at the side of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, the one who answered every question in class with her hand raised high. But now, Hermione looked nothing like the composed, know-it-all Ella had seen in the Great Hall. She looked fragile and small, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy.
“Hermione?” Ella said softly, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Hermione offered a sheepish nod, trying to smooth her tear-streaked cheeks with her sleeve. “It’s me,” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “Sorry if I look a bit of a mess.” Ella shook her head quickly, taking a step forward. “You don’t need to apologize,” she said sincerely. “Everyone needs to cry sometimes. It’s not a sign of weakness.”
Hermione looked up, her tear-streaked face softening with something like wonder. “That's really wise for a first-year,” she murmured, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips.
An awkward silence settled between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Hermione took a deep breath, straightening her robes with a shaky hand. Ella hesitated, then stuck out her hand.
“For the record, my name's Ella,” she said, offering a small, hopeful smile. “And I know it's a bit silly, but I'd really like to be your friend.”
Hermione's eyes widened. For a second, Ella worried she was a bit to much—maybe Hermione didn't want to be friends with a first-year Slytherin. But then Hermione's face lit up, and she clasped Ella's hand tightly.
“It's not silly at all,” Hermione said, her voice warm and sure for the first time since Ella had heard her crying. “I'd love to be your friend, Ella.”
“Good. Because I have a feeling we've got a lot to talk about.”
Hermione laughed—a real, genuine laugh—and wiped the last of her tears away. “You have no idea.”
Ella grinned, relief flooding through her. . “Really?” she asked, her voice full of hope.
“Yes,” Hermione said, a sad look in her eyes. “It's not easy being a muggle-born student in Slytherin House. The pure-blood students can be quite vicious, and they don't understand why I'm here. I've had a hard time making friends in Slytherin because of the way the others treat me. But you seem like someone I can talk to.”
Ella's heart swelled with happiness, and she felt a sudden sense of kinship with Hermione. “I'm glad you feel that way,” she said, her voice sincere. “Because I feel the same way about you. I think we could be really good friends.”
For a moment, Hermione just stared at her. Then, with a sudden burst of emotion, she stepped forward and threw her arms around Ella. The hug was warm and tight, as if Hermione had been waiting far too long to be comforted like this.
Ella stiffened in surprise, but then she relaxed into it, returning the embrace.
When they pulled apart, Hermione wiped at her eyes, her cheeks still red but no longer from crying. “You’re kind, Ella. That’s rare around here.”
Ella said, nudging Hermione's shoulder playfully, “lucky for you, I'm excellent at understanding things. And even better at talking about them.”
Hermione gave a small laugh, the first genuine one Ella had heard from her. “So… tell me about some of your favorite Muggle things,” she said, clearly eager to steer the conversation toward something lighter. “What kind of music do you like? Or TV shows? Books? I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about that stuff in months.”
“Oh my god,” Ella burst out, clapping her hands together. “You have no idea how much I've missed talking about this stuff. Nancy tries, but she’s half-blood but mostly lived with her mum who is a witch so she doesn’t know much about muggles—she thinks a 'radio' is some kind of magical creature.”
Hermione giggled. “Ron thought a telephone was a kind of vegetable until I explained it to him. He said, 'So it’s like a... a talking potato?'“
They sat down on the tiled floor by the sinks, not minding the cold as their voices filled the space. Ella leaned back on her hands and continued, “And books—I love The Secret Garden. There’s something magical about it, the way nature is its own kind of healing.”
Hermione’s face lit up. “I love that book too! My mum read it to me when I was little. And I’ve always wanted a garden like that.” They went on for nearly half an hour, trading favorite novels and obscure facts from TV shows, laughing about getting too competitive over Monopoly.
They even found out they both liked hiking and had memories of camping with their families—Hermione with her parents in the Lake District, and Ella with the orphanage staff and the other children. As they talked, Ella felt like she was making a real connection with Hermione, and she knew that this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Ella and Hermione suddenly stopped talking, their faces pale as they saw the troll walking slowly and clumsy into the bathroom. It was massive, easily towering over them, and its huge club looked like it could crush them in an instant. They were both frozen with fear, unsure of what to do.
The troll blinked slowly, as if confused by the two small figures before it. Then, with an angry groan, it raised its club over its head.
Ella and Hermione huddled together, their hearts pounding in their chests. They were both certain that they were about to meet a gruesome end.
Ella grabbed Hermione’s arm and pulled her behind a sink. They crouched together, the ground shook as the club slammed down where they had been seconds before, shattering porcelain and sending shards flying. Water sprayed from the broken sink, but neither of them could move. They were frozen in terror.
The troll roared again, louder this time, its frustration building as it lumbered toward them.
But then, they heard a voice shouting from down the hall.
“Ella!”
The Great Hall had erupted into chaos when Professor Quirrell came sprinting in, his turban askew, shrieking about a mountain troll loose in the dungeons. Students screamed, professors barked orders, and prefects scrambled to herd their houses to safety.
Lorenzo and Matthew had heard that Ella had gone to the bathroom, and they were both worried about her. They knew she was alone. So, they decided to look for her, sneaking out of the Great Hall while the other students headed to their common rooms with their perfects when they were told that there is a troll in the school.
They rounded a corner when a low, guttural roar echoed off the stone walls, followed by the sharp crash of splintering wood. Both boys froze.
“What was that?” Lorenzo whispered, though he already knew.
Matthew didn’t answer. His jaw tightened. “Come on.”
They reached the girls’ bathroom, the door hanging slightly off its hinges, as if it had been smashed inward. The stench hit them first—a foul, putrid smell that made them gag. Then they saw it.
Inside the wreckage, they spotted Ella and Hermione, backed into a corner, pale and trembling. Their eyes were wide with terror, and they clung to each other, pressed against the cold tile wall.
“Granger?” Lorenzo muttered, baffled.
But there was no time to question it, standing frozen in the hallway, looking just as horrified, were Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
“What do we do?” Harry whispered, his voice shaking.
Ron’s freckles stood out starkly against his ashen face. “We have to stop that thing!”
Lorenzo’s lip curled. The last people he wanted to work with were Gryffindors—especially these Gryffindors. But Ella was in there.
“You two?” Ron snapped the moment he saw Lorenzo and Matthew. “What are you doing here?”
Matthew ignored him, eyes fixed on Ella. “We came to get her.”
“This isn’t the time for house politics,” Lorenzo snapped, his eyes darting from the troll to the girls. “That thing’s about to crush them!”
Harry glared at him. “We don’t need help from Slytherins.”
“You need all the help you can get,” Matthew hissed, stepping forward.
Lorenzo’s gaze flicked to the club. An idea sparked. “The levitation spell,” he whispered to Matthew. “If I can lift the club…”
Matthew nodded, already moving.
“Wingardium Leviosa!” Lorenzo shouted, his wand aimed directly at the troll’s thick, splintered weapon.
The troll blinked in confusion as its club rose slowly above its head. It reached for it dumbly, groaning in frustration. It stomped in place, its little brain clearly unable to comprehend what was happening, as it flailed its long arms, knocking over pipes and tiles in a tantrum of confusion.
Seeing the distraction, Matthew darted into the bathroom, weaving around the debris. “Ella, Granger—come with me,” he said quietly but urgently, kneeling beside them.
Ella’s face lit up with relief. “Matthew—”
“Shh,” he whispered, glancing at the troll. “Slowly. Don’t make noise.”
Hermione nodded, gripping Ella’s hand tightly as they rose shakily to their feet.
But as they crept toward the door, Hermione stepped on a loose tile that cracked beneath her shoe.
The troll roared in fury.
“Now!” Matthew shouted.
The moment the troll turned, Lorenzo released the spell. The heavy club dropped from the air, landing squarely on the troll’s thick skull. The creature wobbled, gave a low groan, and collapsed in a heap, shaking the floor.
For a few heartbeats, no one spoke. Dust and tile shards hung in the air.
Ella turned, staring at the massive, unconscious creature. Lorenzo, Ella, Hermione, and Matthew all looked at each other, their eyes wide with shock and disbelief.
Lorenzo let out a shaky breath and laughed, half in disbelief. “We just knocked out a troll.”
“Yes,” Hermione whispered, her voice still shaking. Ron and Harry sprinted towards Hermione, their expressions full of worry and relief. “Hermione, are you okay?” Ron asked, his voice full of concern. “We were so worried about you!”
Hermione nodded, a small smile on her face. “I'm fine,” she said, her voice still a bit shaky. “But I'm glad you're here.”
Ron’s expression twisted into something uglier. “This is your fault,” he said sharply, turning on Ella. “If you hadn’t dragged her out here—Hermione wouldn’t have been in danger to begin with!”
Ella blinked, stunned, “My fault?”
Harry crossed his arms, his tone colder than usual. “He’s right. If anything had happened to her… that would’ve been on you. All of you.” He glanced at Matthew and Lorenzo with thinly veiled contempt.
Matthew’s fists clenched at his sides. “Don’t you dare put this on us,” he said sharply, stepping forward to shield Ella slightly. “You were standing right there doing nothing.”
“Nothing?” Ron growled. “We were trying to figure out what to do—”
“Exactly!” Lorenzo interrupted, his voice rising. “You were thinking. While we were doing something! Coming from the ‘Brave Gryffindors.’ What exactly were you planning to do? Throw a pumpkin pasty at it? If we hadn’t come when we did, that troll would’ve smashed the two of them into the wall! “
Harry stared at them, his expression unreadable. Ron’s lip curled slightly. “You Slytherins think you're heroes now?”
Lorenzo’s smirk returned, sharp and cold. “Surprised, Weasley? Not all Slytherins cower in corners.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Or maybe you just wanted to show off.”
Matthew rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because risking our necks for Granger was totally about impressing people.”
“We didn’t do it for you,” Lorenzo said coolly, brushing dust off his sleeve. “We did it for her.” He gestured to Ella.
Hermione’s eyes widened. “Stop it! They were trying to help—”
“Help?” Ron barked out a harsh laugh. “They’re Slytherins, Hermione! They don’t help anyone unless there’s something in it for them!”
“I don’t trust your motives,” Harry said coldly, eyes narrowed at Matthew. “None of us do. Not after everything.”
Matthew’s eyes flashed. “You think we had something to do with this?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Ron muttered. “Wouldn’t be surprised if the troll was drawn here on purpose.”
Matthew’s voice turned ice cold. “Careful what you accuse people of, Weasley.”
“Or what?” Ron snapped. “You’ll throw a spell at me? Hex me in the back like your type always does?”
“My type?” Matthew echoed, stepping closer. “You mean Slytherins? Or anyone who doesn't worship the ground Harry Potter walks on?”
“Enough!” Hermione shouted suddenly, everyone turned, startled by the sound.
She looked furious. “Stop it! All of you!” Ella looked at Hermione, “Ron, Harry—yes, I was scared. But Ella didn’t drag me into anything. I was already in the bathroom when she came in and we were both trapped in there.”
There was a long, bitter silence. Harry’s ears turned red. His voice dropped to a low, biting tone. “So what—you want us to thank you now?” “Yeah?” Ron snapped. “Well, don’t expect thanks.”
“They saved our lives,” Ella snapped. “Maybe say thank you instead of being prats about it!”
Ron opened his mouth— The sound of approaching footsteps, Professor McGonagall Professor Snape, and Professor Quirrell. They looked at the scene before them - the troll lying motionless on the floor, and the six students standing around it.
The arrival of the professors brought an abrupt end to the heated argument between the Gryffindors and Slytherins. “What on earth is going on here?” Snape demanded, his voice like a whip crack. “What have you done?”
The students exchanged uneasy glances, none of them eager to be the first to speak. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the distant drip of water from a broken pipe.
Then, Hermione stepped forward. “They were just trying to help,” she said, her voice trembling but firm.
Ella, nodded. “It's true. Hermione and I were in the bathroom when the troll broke in.”
Professor Snape's eyes narrowed, and he looked from Ella to Hermione to the boys. He seemed to be assessing their stories, trying to determine if they were telling the truth. After a long moment, he turned to Professor McGonagall. “What do you think?” he asked, his voice tight.
“I believe them,” she said firmly. “They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and they did what they had to in order to survive. We cannot fault them for that.”
“But the rules—” Snape began, his voice rising.
“The rules are not more important than the safety of our students,” McGonagall cut in, her tone brooking no argument. “We mustn't forget that.”
Professor Snape's eyes darted back and forth between the students and Professor McGonagall. For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to argue, but then he seemed to think better of it. Finally, he gave a curt nod. “Very well,” he said, his voice tight.
McGonagall turned back to the students, “While we understand that you were acting in self-defense,” she said, “what you did was still incredibly reckless. You could have been seriously injured—or worse.”
Ella bowed her head. “We're sorry, Professor. We didn’t mean to put ourselves in danger.”
McGonagall's gaze softened slightly. “I know you didn’t. And while I cannot overlook the rule-breaking, I also cannot ignore your bravery.” She paused. “Each of you will serve detention.”
A collective groan rose from the group—even Harry and Ron, who had barely done anything, looked dismayed. “While we understand that you were acting in self-defense,” she said, “what you did was still incredibly reckless. You could have been seriously injured—or worse.”
Ella bowed her head. “We're sorry, Professor. We didn’t mean to put ourselves in danger.”
McGonagall's gaze softened slightly. “I know you didn’t. And while I cannot overlook the rule-breaking, I also cannot ignore your bravery.” She paused. “Each of you will serve detention.”
A collective groan rose from the group. But McGonagall wasn’t finished.
“However,” she continued, “in recognition of your quick thinking, I will award each of you ten points for your house.”
They blinked in surprise.
Ten points. Hermione beamed. “Thank you, Professor!”
“Just be more careful in the future,” McGonagall said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I do not want to see any of you in this kind of danger again.”
They nodded, chastened.
“Good. Now, off to your common rooms.” McGonagall’s lips quirked slightly. “And no more adventures for the rest of the night.” With that, she turned and strode away.
As the Gryffindors disappeared down the corridor, Ron muttered, “Bet they’ll brag about this for weeks.”
Harry’s only response was a grim nod.
As Ella, Lorenzo, and Matthew turned to follow the others, they halted at the sound of a sharp voice.
“You three,” Professor Snape said, standing in the doorway, arms folded. The trio turned slowly, their stomachs sinking with dread. Ella glanced at Lorenzo, who gave her a grim look, while Matthew stood stiffly, jaw clenched.
Snape stepped closer, his voice cold as steel. “You may have helped. You may have shown… initiative. But that does not excuse the fact that you blatantly disobeyed orders and put yourselves—and others—in danger.”
None of them spoke. They didn’t dare.
“I want it perfectly clear,” Snape continued, eyes narrowing. “Such behavior will not be tolerated again. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Professor,” they echoed quietly, their voices respectful. “Your detention will take place in my classroom,” he said curtly. “Tomorrow evening. I expect you to arrive precisely on time. No excuses. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Professor,” they replied again, the words mechanical. For a long moment, Snape simply stared at them, his expression inscrutable. Then—
“I'm impressed.”
The words were so flat, so devoid of inflection, that at first Ella thought she'd imagined them. Lorenzo's head snapped up in shock, while Matthew blinked as if he'd hixed.
He didn’t give them time to react. Snape turned on his heel, then addressed the stammering Defense professor,”Professor Quirrell, kindly see that the troll is removed and the mess cleaned up. I trust you’re capable of that much.”
“Y-yes, it’s my… job,” Quirrell mumbled, eyes darting between Snape and the unconscious troll, his face pale.
Without another word, Snape swept down the corridor. As soon as he was out of sight, the three of them exhaled simultaneously, shoulders sagging.
“Did he just—” Matthew began.
“—say he was impressed?” Lorenzo finished.
Ella pressed a hand to her chest, her heart still racing. “I think that's the closest thing to praise we'll ever get from him.”
“That could’ve gone worse,” Lorenzo muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Yeah,” Matthew said, glancing after Snape. “Still feels like we got off easy. Kind of.”
“Theo is going to be so jealous!” Matthew exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across his face. “He’ll never believe we faced a troll and lived to tell the tale!”
“And even more jealous when he finds out we actually got points for it.” Ella added, giggling.
That thought was all it took to send the three of them into a fit of laughter. As they made their way back to the Slytherin common room, there was a noticeable shift in their steps—lighter, filled with a strange mix of exhaustion and victory.
The moment the trio stepped into the Slytherin common room, they were met with chaos. “Where have you been?” Draco's voice cut through the chatter as he pushed his way forward, his usually pale face flushed with worry. Behind him, Theo and Nancy stood, their expressions equally anxious. “We heard about the troll in the castle—Flint said it was heading for the dungeons! We thought—”
“Relax, Draco,” Matthew said, throwing an arm around his shoulders with a grin. “We're fine. More than fine, actually.”
“Yeah,” Ella chimed in, unable to suppress her excitement. “We fought the troll!”
The common room fell silent. Every Slytherin within earshot turned to stare.
Theo's jaw dropped. “You what?”
Matthew’s grin widening as Theo's expression morphed from shock to outright envy.
“No way,” Theo breathed, stepping closer. “You're joking.”
Lorenzo smirked, crossing his arms. “Would we joke about something like this?” Theo groaned, running a hand through his hair.
“I wish I could've been there with you,” he said, his voice tinged with genuine longing. “I've always wanted to do something like that.”
Ella winked. “You can join us next time.” And so, they began to recount it all.
Draco, however, was not amused. His gray eyes narrowed as he pieced together their story. “Let me get this straight,” he said slowly, his voice dangerously calm. “You went to the bathroom—where the troll was—and decided to take it on by yourselves?”
“Well, it’s not quite like that,” Ella started, but Draco cut her off. “And then,” Draco continued, his voice rising, “to top it all off, you got detention!”
He threw his hands up. “I'd expect this from Theo and Matthew, but you, Lorenzo? I guess Ella's influence is rubbing off on you.” Lorenzo shrugged with a grin. “Maybe she is.”
Nancy, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up, shaking her head. “You are the most reckless people I've ever met.”
Ella gave a mischievous grin. “But there is a silver lining. Professor McGonagall gave us ten points each for bravery and quick thinking.”
At that, Nancy’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Well, that’s something, at least,” she said. “You may be reckless, but you’re also resourceful.”
As the boys continued to chatter excitedly, Nancy glanced around the common room. The energy was infectious, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. The adrenaline of the night had worn off, leaving exhaustion in its wake.
“Well,” she said, forcing a polite smile, “I think I'm going to turn in. It's been a long day.”
The boys nodded absently, already deep in discussion about the troll's size and strength. Only Ella noticed Nancy's quiet departure.
Lucy stirred in Ella's lap, her golden eyes blinking up sleepily. “Alright, Lucy, time for bed.” Ella murmured, standing carefully so as not to disturb her furry companion.
“Thanks again,” Ella said softly, her voice carrying more weight than she'd intended. “For everything.”
Matthew's usual mischievous spark softened into something warmer. “Anytime,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically sincere.
Lorenzo nodded, “Try not to get into any more life-threatening situations before breakfast, yeah?”
Ella laughed, shaking her head. “No promises.” With a final wave, she turned toward the girls' dormitory, Lucy cradled in her arms.
The dormitory was quiet when Ella entered, the other girls already asleep, Nancy had already drifted off.
She changed quickly into her pajamas, Lucy curling up on the pillow beside her. As she sank into the plush blankets, the events of the day replayed in her mind. A quiet laugh escaped her. If someone had told her a month ago that she'd be here—surrounded by friends—she wouldn't have believed them.
As sleep finally claimed her, Ella's last thought was a simple one:
This is just the beginning.
And for the first time in a long time, the future didn't seem scary.
It seemed exciting.
Notes:
AND THAT'S A WRAP, YOU MAGICAL WEIRDOS!
Well, that was our first full encounter with the Gryffindor trio - and yes, I made them the bad. Why? Because:
I'm Slytherin (hi).
I read Manacled (never recovered + I hate them since.) Though if I watched the movie, I don't really care because I'll be seeing my fanfic instead and daydreaming while watching it.
Reality is whatever I say it is in this fic.THIS CHAPTER RANDOM CHAPTER QUESTION:
Which Golden Trio member would you throw hands with first? (We all know it's Ron, the amount of fiction I read that made me dream about hitting him. 'Amor Vincit Omnia- a really good one go read it❤ ')With love, chaos, and and a questionable amount of daydreaming.
– [Elaf Mohammed/Buttercow]
Chapter 7: Pinky Promise 2
Notes:
Hello, lovely weirdos, Potterheads and daydreamers! 🧙🏽♀️
CHAPTER 7 IS HERE!!!I nearly had a panic attack when I couldn’t find this chapter’s draft, full dramatic gasp, heart racing, the whole thing. until I remembered that I send it to one of my friends on WhatsApp. Why WhatsApp, you ask? Because at the time, we had zero internet… except for WhatsApp, it was the only thing working. why? we were in the middle of a war.
Yes. I started writing this fic during the war. It was how I stayed sane—how I stopped myself from drowning in "what ifs" and fear.
So yes, I sent the draft on WhatsApp as a long-ass block of text because I couldn’t even turn it into a PDF an send it to her. Shoutout to Noon-xoxo. Because she’s my first and most loyal beta reader. The draft survived because of her—love you, babe.
And seriously… pray for Sudan.Back to this chapter—while I was editing it, I was like, “Wait… this could totally be Part 2 of the Pinky Promise.” She’s still getting to know the boys, still figuring them out, so yeah—it fits.
P.S. She’s also the reason I started reading more English books.
P.P.S. I always make her read the saddest books for some reason. I really should be paying for her therapy at this point LOL.Hope you like this chapter.🌹
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The morning sun streamed through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, casting golden pools of light across the four house tables. Ella paused in the doorway, taking in the scene—the clatter of cutlery, the hum of conversation, the smell of freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon. For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, she didn’t feel like an outsider looking in. she got friends and not just Nancy or classmates, friends who come for her. For the first time in weeks, her sleep had been peaceful, undisturbed by shadows or worry.
Her smile widened as she spotted Hermione chatting with the Weasley twins. Hermione waved the moment she saw her, and Ella waved back. The twins gave her a cheerful thumbs-up.
Until she noticed Ron and Harry a few seats down, glowering in her direction. Who were sitting across from them and arguing over toast, she couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes.
Hermione noticed instantly. “What’s with the eye roll?” she asked, an amused smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Ella said, waving her hand dismissively. “I just don’t know how you put up with those two.”
Hermione laughed lightly. “They have their moments. In fact,” she added, her tone softening, “I think you’ll find Ron and Harry are actually quite friendly, they can be a bit thick-headed, sure, but they mean well. They always come through in the end.”
Ella looked back at the boys. Ron had crumbs in his hair and Harry was trying to explain something using a salt shaker as a prop. “If you say so.”
she spotted the boys sitting at the far end—Matthew scooping eggs onto his plate like he’d never eat again, Lorenzo sipping tea with his blue-blooded poise, Theo animatedly recounting something to a confused Draco, who kept glancing toward the Gryffindors with a frown.
A flicker of hesitation gave her pause—Would they mind if I joined them?—but then Matthew looked up, his face lighting up like Christmas morning.
“Ella!” he called, waving her over with a forkful of sausage. “Saved you a seat!”
The tension in her shoulders melted away. “Really?” she asked, gesturing to the empty spot beside him.
Matthew scooted over, nearly elbowing Lorenzo in the ribs. “Unless you’d rather sit with Granger,” he teased, nodding toward the Gryffindor table.
Ella rolled her eyes and dropped onto the bench, reaching for the toast. “Ha ha. Very funny.”
Her attention snagged on a burst of laughter farther down the table. Nancy held court amidst a group of second-year girls, all of them hanging on her every word. One girl gasped dramatically as Nancy mimed swinging a club, her storytelling clearly reaching its climax.
“What’s going on over there?” Ella asked, nodding toward the group.
Theo followed her gaze and snorted softly. “Nancy’s giving them the troll story,” he said. “She’s already told it twice. I think she’s adding more drama with each retelling.”
“She’s quite the performer,” Lorenzo added, biting into a piece of toast. “Honestly, I’m impressed.”
Draco scowled. “If anyone should be telling the story, it’s you,” he said to Ella. “Nancy wasn’t even there. She’s just making herself look good.”
Ella shrugged, spreading jam on her toast. “I’m not worried about it.”
“Still,” Draco insisted, his gray eyes sharp, “I don’t like how she’s using your story for her own gain.”
“It’s better this way,” Ella countered. “Nancy can tell it in a way that makes people like her, which might actually help me in the long run. If I tried to tell it...” She trailed off, thinking of the way some Slytherins still eyed her.
Draco grumbled under his breath, clearly unhappy, but he didn’t argue further.
Lorenzo leaned in. “If you ever need help dealing with Nancy, or anyone else in Slytherin, you can count on us,” he said with a reassuring smile.
“We’ve got your back,” Theo said, his voice firm but kind.
Matthew reached for a biscuit and added, “And we’ll always listen to your stories. No matter how many times you tell them. Or how boring they are.”
Ella laughed, her heart swelling with affection for all of them. “Careful what you wish for,” she said, “I have a lifetime’s worth of stories. You’ll be begging me to stop.” The conversation flowed easily after that, Ella found herself laughing more than she had in years.
They talked about their classes—how Professor Snape seemed even more sarcastic than usual, how Flitwick’s lessons were secretly the most fun, and how no one could understand what the new Care of Magical Creatures professor was saying through his heavy accent.
The warmth of the Great Hall, the clink of goblets, the way Lorenzo subtly passed her the last chocolate muffin without a word—it all felt right.
The boys headed off to their own classes, leaving her to head toward the greenhouses for Herbology. Ella wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck, her boots crunching softly as she made her way to the Greenhouse. Nancy was already waiting for her as soon as she caught sight of Ella, she grinned and waved.
“How was breakfast?” Nancy asked, immediately falling into step beside her. “Did you hear any more gossip?”
Ella shook her head, “I’m afraid I was too busy eating to eavesdrop. But I’m sure you’ll fill me in on everything I missed.”
Nancy laughed, looping her arm through Ella’s. “You know me so well.” And with that, Nancy launched into a rapid-fire recap of the morning’s castle drama—how a secret romance between a Ravenclaw fifth-year and a Hufflepuff prefect had been exposed. a bet gone wrong, and a prank that had gone horribly wrong.
When they stepped into the greenhouse, their classmates were already gathered around a long wooden table at the center of the room, whispering excitedly. At the front stood Professor Sprout, her round cheeks flushed pink from the heat, her patched hat slightly askew.
“Good morning, everyone!” she called, her voice as cheerful as ever. “I hope you’re all ready to learn about the wonderful world of mandrakes!”
The class murmured with interest, a few students looking nervously at the large pots placed in front of them, each with a leafy green plant nestled in the soil.
Ella felt her heart beat a little faster with excitement. She’d read about mandrakes their restorative properties, their deadly screams, the way their roots resembled tiny, twisted human bodies. But seeing them in person was something else entirely, her fingers itching to get to work.
“Now, now, don’t be alarmed!” Professor Sprout said, chuckling at their reactions. “We’ll be using these!” She held up a pair of bright purple earmuffs.
Nancy nudged Ella. “Think they’d work against Peeves’s singing?” she whispered.
Ella stifled a laugh.
Professor Sprout began distributing the earmuffs, gloves, aprons and small pots for repotting. “Today, you’ll each be repotting a mandrake. Remember—earmuffs on before you pull them out of the soil!”
“To start off our lesson today,” Professor Sprout announced, beaming at the class, “we’re going to learn about the different stages of a mandrake’s life cycle. Can anyone tell me the first stage?”
Several hands shot up into the air, and Nancy’s was among the first. She was eager to show off her knowledge.
“Yes?” Professor Sprout called on her. “A mandrake starts out as a seed,” Nancy said confidently, trying to keep the pride out of her voice, though it still crept in.
“Correct,” Professor Sprout replied with a nod of approval. “And what happens after the seed is planted?”
Nancy didn’t hesitate. “The seed germinates and grows into a seedling,” she said, keeping her tone steady. “Then, after about a month, it becomes a sapling.”
“Exactly!” Professor Sprout said, clearly pleased. “And after roughly a year, the sapling matures into a fully grown mandrake.”
Ella found herself relaxing slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing. The lesson was fascinating, but knowing they were only dealing with young mandrakes made her feel better. She was still excited, but it was a safer kind of excitement.
Ella glanced up toward her. “Do you think we’ll get to hear the mandrakes shriek someday?” she asked, eyes alight with wonder.
Professor Sprout chuckled, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “Once you’re older and more experienced, we may work with full-grown mandrakes,” she said. “But for now, it’s best we stay on the side of caution.”
Ella nodded, she couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment. She would have to wait a while before she could hear them.
“It’s important to remember,” Professor Sprout continued, her tone shifting to something more serious, “that the shriek of a mandrake isn’t just dangerous—it’s powerful. Mandrake root is a crucial ingredient in many potions. It has saved countless lives, like Mandrake Restorative Draught, which can cure even the deepest of comas so while we must be cautious, we should also respect and appreciate its magic. Sometimes, the most frightening or difficult things can also be the most valuable. It's all about perspective.”
Ella mulled over Professor Sprout's words, and she realized that they applied to more than just mandrakes. Maybe it was true of people, too. Maybe someone who seemed scary or difficult could turn out to be the kindest, if you just took the time to get to know them.
“Professor, that's really wise,” Ella said, her voice full of admiration.
“Thank you dear.” Professor Sprout smiled, “It’s easy to label something as good or bad, but the world rarely works in absolutes. Magic—like people—has many sides, both positive and negative so don’t take one part and leave the other, it's important to keep that in mind.”
“Now, let's get back to work,” Professor Sprout said, her voice cheerful again.
The students all donned their earmuffs, “Alright, let's get started,” Professor Sprout said, carefully removing the mandrake from its pot. Ella double-checked hers, her heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves.
The moment Professor Sprout lifted the first mandrake from its pot, the greenhouse erupted in chaos. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Even with the earmuffs on, the sound was gut-churning. Ella winced as the vibrations rattled through her bones, the class cringed and instinctively clutched at the sides of their heads. But Professor Sprout remained utterly unbothered, humming cheerfully as she tucked the screaming plant into its new pot and patted soil around it until the awful noise stopped.
“Phew,” Ella gasped, pulling her earmuffs down around her neck. With a nod from Professor Sprout, the students got to work.
Ella approached her mandrake, taking a deep breath, she gripped it firmly—and immediately regretted it.
The mandrake squirmed in her grasp, its tiny root-limbs flailing like an angry octopus. Its mouth opened in what Ella was certain would be another ear-splitting scream, but thankfully, her earmuffs muffled the worst of it.
“There we go,” she muttered through gritted teeth, wrestling the squirming plant into its new pot, scooping in fresh soil around its roots. “You’re all set.”
Its leaves perked up, and it nestled into the fresh soil with a contented wiggle. Ella couldn’t help but grin. Maybe she had a knack for this.
Meanwhile, Nancy wasn’t having as much luck.
“STOP—oh Merlin—STOP KICKING ME—” Nancy yelped, Her mandrake thrashed wildly, making it nearly impossible to hold. Dirt flew everywhere as she struggled to keep it under control, her face flushed with frustration. Nearby, a Ravenclaw girl was watching with horrified face as she didn’t start yet.
Ella bit back a laugh. ”Need a hand?”
Nancy shot her a desperate look. “Please. I think it hates me.”
Nearby, a Ravenclaw girl was watching with horrified fascination. Nancy shot her a desperate look. “Please. I think it hates me.”
Working together, they managed to corner the rogue mandrake. Ella held it steady while Nancy frantically shoveled soil into the new pot.
“That’s it,” Ella sweet-talked as the mandrake’s struggles weakened. “Just relax...” Nancy sagged against the table. Ella burst out laughing at how she looked.
After class, Ella and Nancy made their way to the Great Hall for lunch. As they stepped into the hall, the rich aroma of roasted meats, fresh bread, and buttered vegetables drifted toward them.
Ella’s stomach let out a loud growl, and her eyes instantly darted to the spread on the Slytherin table. “You’re always starving,” Nancy laughed, bumping her shoulder against Ella’s.
They made their way to the Slytherin table, but as they sat down, Ella couldn’t help but notice the way some of their classmates subtly shifted in their seats—leaning away, whispering to each other, or pretending to be suddenly engrossed in their food.
Ella's grip tightened around her fork. She'd expected this—the sidelong glances, the whispered comments—but it still stung.
Nancy nudged her knee under the table. “Ignore them,” she said quietly, loading Ella's plate with an extra helping of lemon tart. “They’re just being idiots. You’re better off without them anyway.”
Ella nodded, forcing a smile. “You're right.” Even surrounded by friends, she couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider—the orphan Muggle-born in a house that prized blood purity above all else.
“Mind if I join you?”
Ella looked up to see Theo standing, eyes on her rather than the rest of the table.
“Sure!” Ella said, perhaps too quickly, trying to sound more cheerful than surprised. She scooted over to make room.
Theo slid into the empty chair beside her without hesitation, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Nancy glanced at him with thinly veiled suspicion but didn’t say anything.
He began loading his plate with food, completely unfazed. “So… still have your hearing after your date with the mandrakes?”
“Barely,” Ella said. “One of them shrieked right in front of me. I think it tried to melt my brain.”
Theo smirked. “Sounds like a lovely morning.”
“It was chaos,” Nancy added, stabbing a carrot. “One of them nearly flung itself at me like it wanted to be launched.”
Ella grinned. “She almost screamed louder than the mandrake.”
“I did not!” Nancy protested, though her cheeks were pink.
Ella’s eyes lit up a little “Repotting them. It was... a lot. Bu it was interesting.”
Theo chuckled. “Yeah. Most people complain about Herbology. You sound like you actually loved it.”
Ella looked down at her plate. “Well… I guess it kind of is, for me. I'm kind of a nature person. I've always loved gardening and growing things. When I first got my letter, I was so excited to see what plants they would have at Hogwarts. And Herbology did not disappoint. There are so many magical plants, and they all have such amazing properties.”
Nancy, who had been nibbling on a piece of toast and watching the exchange with a half-raised brow. “Plants are just a lot of work, especially ones like those stupid mandrakes.”
Ella rolled her eyes playfully. “Don’t say that about plants, Nancy. They hear you.”
Theo chuckled. “Honestly, I think she’d hex someone for stepping on a daisy.”
“I would,” Ella said without hesitation, earning a laugh from both of them.
Theo grinned as he scooped a bit of mashed potatoes onto his plate. “You know, in our first year Lorenzo actually fainted.”
Ella nearly choked on her pumpkin juice. “Wait, Lorenzo actually fainted? The same Lorenzo who faced down a troll without blinking?”
Theo's laughter rang out across the Slytherin table, drawing curious glances from nearby students. “You should've seen Lorenzo's face,” he wheezed. “One second he's all 'Oh yes, I've read about mandrakes and the next—” Theo mimed a dramatic swoon, nearly knocking over his goblet of pumpkin juice.
Ella giggled, picturing the usually composed Lorenzo crumpling to the greenhouse floor. “Wait, so did he just... lie there while the mandrakes kept screaming?”
“Oh, it was better than that,” Theo said, “The professor was trying to help him, while the rest of us were still wrestling with our plants.”
Ella let out a laugh, shaking her head. “That sounds like a nightmare. I can just imagine the look on his face.” Ella said, still smiling. “How about you, though? Did you find it traumatizing?”
“Not really,” Theo said, considering the question. “I mean, it was definitely not pleasant.” he couldn't help but grin as she remembered her first year Herbology class.
It had been a truly chaotic experience, and he vividly remembered the look of horror on Lorenzo's face as he realized what they were about to do. “We had been warned that it would be a bit intense,” Theo said, recounting the story. “But I don't think any of us were truly prepared for the sound of the mandrakes.”
As Ella and Theo continued chatting about magical plants, the conversation was interrupted as Lorenzo, Matthew, and Draco slid onto the benches around them. “There you are,” Draco said, nudging Theo aside to claim the seat. “We were wondering where you’d disappeared to.”
“Just discussing the finer points of mandrake repotting,” Theo said, grinning as Lorenzo stiffened. “Ella here was just telling me about her natural affinity for plants.” Lorenzo’s expression turned pained. “Must we?”
Matthew chuckled, resting his chin on his hand. “I’ve never seen someone who genuinely loved dirt and leaves in my life. Ella, are you sure you’re not a Hufflepuff?”
Ella rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “I appreciate the compliment, but I’m definitely a Slytherin.”
Draco studied her for a moment before nodding approvingly. “You’ve got the edge for it.”
The conversation flowed easily, filled with Theo’s exaggerated retellings of their classes and Matthew’s terrible impressions of Professor Quirrell. But as Ella laughed along, she noticed Nancy slipping away to join a group of of other girls. It was clear she felt more comfortable with them than with Ella and the boys. Ella tried not to take it personally, but the small pang of hurt lingered.
Draco nudged her shoulder. “Hey,” he said, following her gaze. “Nancy’s a social butterfly. She likes to flit around.”
Ella sighed. “I know. It’s just—”
“You thought you’d be her only friend?” Theo finished, smirking. “Sorry to break it to you, but you’re stuck with us as your main entertainment for now.”
Matthew clutched his chest in mock offense. “And here I thought we were delightful company.”
Ella laughed, shaking her head. “You are. Mostly.”
The bell tolled in the distance, signaling the end of lunch. Ella groaned, reluctantly pushing herself up from the table. “Ugh, don’t remind me,” Theo grumbled, though he made no move to stand. “We’ve got History of Magic next. If I have to hear Binns drone on—”
“That’s the way it goes,” Matthew said, stretching as he stood. “But hey, maybe we can pick this up later?”
“Definitely,” Ella said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
Lorenzo gave her a lazy wave. “Try not to get into any more life-threatening situations before then.”
Ella nodded with a smile as she walked out, she cast one last glance at Nancy, now deep in conversation with her friends. For a moment, she considered joining them—but then she decided it’s better not to.
After finishing her classes, Ella made her way to the library. She couldn’t help but feel a flicker of disappointment that Nancy hadn’t joined her. She’d been hoping they could study together, but she understood—Nancy seemed more interested in spending time with the other girls.
She headed to her usual quiet spot in the library, and got to work. Even though she was alone, she quickly became immersed in her studies, losing track of time as she read and took notes.
The sun slowly began to set, students began walking out, heading to dinner in the Great Hall, but Ella barely noticed. She had a lot of work to get through, and without Nancy there to keep pace with, she was going slower than usual.
It wasn’t until the librarian began ushering out the last few lingering students that Ella realized she had completely missed dinner. Her stomach growled, a sharp reminder of how long she’d been working. Despite the hunger, she felt a small sense of satisfaction—she’d gotten a lot done alone.
A flicker of panic hit her as she checked the time—had she missed her detention with Snape? But then she remembered: he had rescheduled it for tomorrow. She let out a breath of relief. The thought of what he would’ve done if she’d skipped sent a shiver down her spine.
The castle corridors were empty as Ella made her way toward the dungeons, her footsteps echoing off the stone walls. She was so lost in thought that she nearly walked straight into Fred and George Weasley.
“Whoa there, bookworm!”
Ella stumbled back, blinking up at them, a smile tugged at her lips. An her stomach chose that moment to let out a loud grumble.
Fred’s eyes lit up. “Sounds like someone missed dinner.”
“Lucky for you,” George added, slinging an arm around her shoulders, “we were just on our way to the kitchens. Fancy joining us?”
Ella hesitated. “The kitchens? But students aren’t allowed—”
“Ah-ah,” Fred interrupted, wagging a finger, “Rules, are meant to be broken, my dear.”
Ella bit her lip. She should head back to the common room. But the thought of warm food and she was hungery. “Fine,” she said, trying to sound reluctant despite her growing smile. “But if we get caught, I’m blaming you two.”
The twins exchanged delighted glances. “That’s the spirit!” Fred cheered.
The twins led her through a maze of corridors, down a flight of stairs, and finally to a seemingly ordinary painting of a pear. George reached out and tickled the pear, which wriggled and let out a giggle before transforming into a green door handle.
Ella’s jaw dropped.
“After you,” George said, bowing dramatically. Ella stepped inside, her curiosity outweighing her caution. The passage twisted downward, and she started to feel a bit claustrophobic but the moment she smelled the mouthwatering scent of baked bread and roasted meats she couldn’t focus on something else.
The room was bustling with activity. House-elves darted back and forth, busy preparing food, washing dishes, and keeping everything impeccably clean. The moment Fred and George entered, several elves paused to wave at them enthusiastically.
“Hey there, Squeaky!” Fred said, giving a friendly nod to a small, excitable house-elf. “Master Fred! Master George!” Squeaky, eyes lighting up. “And you brings a friend!”
Fred said cheerfully. “This is Ella. She’s starving.”
Squeaky’s eyes went wide. “Oh no! Squeaky will fix this!” Just then, another house-elf approached, with a tray of food. George’s eyes lit up. “Is that for us?”
“Ah, Mr. Weasley,” Squeaky said, wagging a tiny finger at him. “This tray is not for you. It is for Miss Ella—as a welcome gift!”
Ella blinked, clearly surprised. “For me?” she asked, touched. “It is our pleasure,” Squeaky said, beaming proudly. “We always like to make our guests feel welcome.” Ella felt a flutter of warmth in her chest. She wasn’t used to being treated so kindly by house-elfs—it was overwhelming in the best way.
Squeaky tilted his head, studying her. “You are a Slytherin, yes?”
“Yes, I am,” Ella said, nodding.
The elf’s face lit up. “Ah! Then you must know them well!” he exclaimed, clasping his tiny hands together. “Master Theo and Master Matthew! They are dear friends of ours. Always stopping by for snacks and chats!”
Ella’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. She hadn’t known the boys were so well-acquainted with the house-elves. It added a whole new layer to how she saw them.
The food was delicious, and Ella ate hungrily, only then realizing how starving she truly was. As she ate, Fred and George kept the conversation lively, sharing hilarious stories from their years at Hogwarts. Ella laughed at their tricks, genuinely entertained, she let herself simply enjoy the moment—no worrying about house rivalries, no stressing over assignments, no calculating every word before she spoke.
Fred leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. “So, Ella,” he said between bites, “how’s life treating you as the newest Slytherin celebrity who faced a troll?”
“Celebrity?” Ella nearly choked on her juice. “Hardly. Unless getting glared at by half the school counts as fame.”
George waved a dismissive hand. “Pfft. You’ve faced a troll, befriended the most well-known Slytherins, and you’ve got a standing invitation to the kitchens now.”
Ella rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “So… why is Ron so different from you two?” She broached the subject that had been nagging at her.
Fred and George exchanged a glance—”Ah,” George said finally, scratching his chin. “Ron’s…being the youngest brother in a family like ours isn’t easy. Especially when your older siblings include us.” He winked.
Fred nodded. “He’s not a bad person. Just… prickly. Thinks he’s got to measure up to some imaginary standard. Which, frankly, is our fault for setting the bar so high.”
Ella nodded thoughtfully, a flicker of sympathy rising within her despite the rocky history she had with Ron.
George puffed out his chest dramatically. “We are the superior Weasleys, after all. Smart, funny, devastatingly handsome and generally amazing.”
“And modest,” Fred added dryly.
Ella giggled. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously awesome,” George corrected. “You’re lucky to have us as friends. Consider your Hogwarts experience officially upgraded.”
“Lucky me,” Ella said, though she couldn’t hide the warmth in her voice. There was something comforting about the twins’ easy charm and lack of judgment. It felt good to be accepted for who she was—regardless of her house or background.
As Ella finished, Squeaky reappeared, wringing his tiny hands. “Miss Ella has been such a lovely guest,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling. “Squeaky hopes you enjoyed your visit!”
“Squeaky, can I come back here sometime?” Ella asked hopefully, looking at him with earnest eyes.
“Of course you can come again!” Squeaky said, beaming. “You are always welcome in the kitchens. Any time you like!”
“That’s very kind of you,” Ella said sincerely. “Thank you for the food—and for being so welcoming.” She offered him a grateful smile.
Squeaky’s ears turned a shade of pink, and he looked bashfully pleased. “You are very kind to say so. We house-elves live to serve and to bring joy. “And our greater joy to make friends.”
Ella crouched down to his level. “Then consider me a friend.” The elf looked like he might burst with happiness.
The dungeons were silent as Ella slipped through the common room entrance, Most of the Slytherins had already called it a night. Ella tiptoed to her room, careful not to wake Nancy, who was curled up under her blankets, her breathing slow and even.
Lucy, nestled at the foot of Ella’s bed, “Hey, you,” Ella whispered, scratching the cat behind her ears. “Miss me?”
Lucy purred in response, nudging Ella’s hand. Too exhausted to even change out of her robes, Ella collapsed onto her bed, as she closed her eyes, the last thing she felt was Lucy curling up against her side, a warm, comforting weight.
The next day passed quickly, and soon it was time for Ella's detention with Professor Snape. She silently hoped she wouldn’t be the first to arrive—being alone with Snape was the last thing she wanted. She stood outside the door for a moment, steeling herself before pushing it open.
As she stepped into the room, she let out a breath of relief at the sight of Lorenzo and Matthew already there.
Lorenzo glanced up as she entered, giving her a subtle nod. Matthew flashed her a quick, reassuring grin before schooling his expression into something more appropriate for detention, Ella slipped into a seat just as the door creaked open again.
Professor Snape swept into the room. His gaze flicked over the them, his expression unreadable as always. “You are here for detention,” he said, his voice like ice. “Each of you will complete the task I assign. Are there any questions?”
The room remained silent. Ella’s heart thudded in her chest. Snape had a reputation for assigning the worst kinds of punishments.
“A three-page essay,” Snape continued, “on the properties of moonstone.”
Ella blinked. Relief washed over her, she’d just studied it last week! A quick glance at Lorenzo and Matthew showed they looked just as relieved. Moonstone was a fairly common ingredient, and they clearly felt as prepared as she did.
As they pulled out parchment and quills, Snape turned on his heel. “You have one hour. No talking.”
Ella took a deep breath and dipped her quill into ink, as she began to write, facts and details flowed back to her effortlessly. The more she wrote, the more her confidence grew. She realized she knew more than she thought.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Matthew chewing his lip in concentration, while Lorenzo wrote with precise, measured strokes.
Ella’s quill hovered over the final line of her essay before she set it down with quiet satisfaction. She had finished before the boys, suppressing a small, triumphant exhale, she meticulously scanned her work, smoothing a crease from the parchment before rolling it with care. Her face remained carefully blank.
“Do you have a problem?” Professor Snape’s voice cut through the silence. Ella looked up quickly, startled, but kept her voice steady. “No, sir.”
Snape narrowed his eyes, studying her. Ella held his gaze, but a strange nervousness crept over her. There was something about the way he was looking at her—like he could see through every inch of her that he knows how nervous she was.
Despite herself, she offered him a small, cautious smile. And then, to her surprise, the corner of Snape’s mouth lifted in the barest hint of reciprocation. It was there and gone so quickly she might have imagined it.
A ghost of a smile. Unexpected. Unmistakable. It unsettled her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Finally, he broke the gaze, glancing at each of them in turn. “You may go,” he said, voice curt once more. “I expect your best work on your next essay.”
The moment the dungeon door closed behind them, Matthew let out a low whistle. “You’re lucky he was in a good mood. Last week, Mark sneezed and got to reorganize the storeroom alphabetically. But today? He was actually sort of… nice. Well—Snape-nice.”
Lorenzo nodded. “Professor Snape does not smile at students. It’s practically a law of nature.”
Ella let out a small laugh, the tension starting to ease from her shoulders.
“I’ll take it as a win,” she said lightly. Matthew raised an eyebrow at her, smirking.
“Or maybe you’ve charmed the uncharmable.”
Ella rolled her eyes, amused “Don’t be ridiculous.”
As they walked, the encounter replayed in her mind, she wondered if Severus Snape was as unreadable as everyone believed.
The next weeks passed in a blur, each one folding into the other with the same routine—classes, homework, shared laughter with Nancy and the boys. Some nights, she slept peacefully. Others, she woke in a cold sweat, her sheets tangled around her legs, the remnants of nightmares clinging to her.
But it was the daylight hours that wore on her the most.
At first, it had been easy to brush off—a muttered insult as she passed, a shoulder knocking into hers in the corridor, a snicker from the back of the classroom.
Annoyances. She told herself they didn’t matter. She tried to act like it didn’t matter. She smiled when she was supposed to, nodded through conversations, and joined the group at their usual table.
But they did matter.
Other days, a book missing from her bag, someone bumping into her just hard enough to make her stumble her knees scraping against stone. The worst were the jinxes—harmless, but humiliating. A spilled inkwell. A suddenly uncooperative quill.
She was tired. So, so tired.
Tired of flinching when someone moved too quickly near her. Tired of forcing a smile when her friends asked if she was okay. Tired of the way her stomach twisted every time she entered the Great Hall.
She had grown so used to being on guard that she barely remembered what it felt like to feel safe. To move freely without expecting something to hit her—physically or otherwise.
She sat in the back of her classes now, her notes meticulous but her mind drifting. Professors’ voices became distant murmurs. And through it all, the question gnawed at her: Why me?
And some nights, when the common room had gone quiet and the fire had burned low, she would sit alone and wonder just how long she could keep pretending it didn’t hurt.
Hogwarts was supposed to be magical.
But for Ella, it was becoming a prison.
It wasn’t until one particularly bad day that Ella finally broke.
She had been walking down the hall, when it started again—a group of students whispering just loud enough to be heard, their laughter sharp, pointed.
Their voices followed her like a shadow, echoing off the cold stone walls. Ella kept her head down, willing her legs to carry her forward, to ignore them like she always did.
But something inside her snapped, she whirled around so fast. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Her voice tore through the hallway, raw and shaking.
For one fragile second, silence. Then laughter. Louder this time, their faces twisted in delight at her outburst. One of them mimicked her in a high-pitched whine, and the others howled. “Touched a nerve, did we?”
Heat flooded Ella’s face, her vision blurring with unshed tears. She ran.
She didn’t stop until she found an empty classroom. Her shaking hands slammed the door shut, locking it with a spell before she collapsed against it, chest heaving.
Her knees hit the cold stone floor before she even realized she’d collapsed. She pressed her back against the wall, arms wrapped tight around herself.
A sob ripped from her throat, then another, until she was choking on them, her whole body trembling. Don’t cry. Don’t let them win. But the tears came anyway, she muffled her gasps against her knees, terrified someone might hear.
The things they said weren’t new. But today, today, they won. She didn’t know how long she sat there, the sobs began to quiet. Her breathing slowed. Her fingers trembled as she wiped her face, trying to put herself back together.
She didn’t feel strong. She didn’t feel brave. But she stood anyway. The door creaked as she unlocked it. The hallway was mercifully empty now, She took a step forward and froze.
There they were. The same group, lounging against the far wall like predators waiting for prey. Their grins widened when they spotted her.
One of them pushed off the wall. “Aw, did the baby finally stop crying?”
For a second, all she could think about was turning back, hiding, running. But her legs wouldn’t move.
Just then, a voice echoed through the corridor like a gust of cold wind.
“Ooooooh,” it cooed mockingly, floating through the silence.
Ella froze. She didn’t need to see him to know. “Peeves,” she muttered under her breath.
The group of students glanced around in alarm. One of them swore under their breath. Peeves was chaos they didn’t want to invite. Without hesitation, they scattered—shoving each other in their rush to disappear around the corner, away from the poltergeist.
Ella watched them go, stunned by how quickly they vanished, relief washed over her in a brief, but it was short-lived.
From above her head, Peeves floated down like a twisted wisp of smoke, wearing a grin far too wide for his face. “What a sad little snake,” he sing-songed. “Crying all alone in that classroom… boo hoo hoo.”
Ella’s jaw clenched. Her eyes, still red from crying, met his with exhausted defiance. “Go away.”
But Peeves only cackled, a sharp, unkind sound that grated against her already-raw nerves.
She turned from him, willing herself not to react, not to give him what he wanted. Maybe if she just kept walking, he’d get bored.
“Where are you slithering off to, little snake?” he taunted behind her. “Don’t you want to play with me?”
She didn’t answer. Her shoes tapped against the stone as she walked, the silence between them stretched. Peeves wasn’t used to silence.
Then came the chaos: a loud crash as a suit of armor toppled behind her. She didn’t flinch. A painting’s frame slammed against the wall with a bang. Still, Ella walked on, her arms crossed over her chest.
To Peeves, it was... unsettling.
Peeves was used to getting a reaction out of people. He had never seen anyone so consumed by their own thoughts that they couldn't even acknowledge him.
It was as if she was living in a different reality, one that didn't include him. Peeves was a little bit offended. He was the king of mischief, the ruler of chaos. And here was this little girl, completely ignoring him. It was unheard of.
He floated after her in silence, curious now more than amused. He followed her all the way down into the dungeons, keeping his distance. She didn’t look back, not once.
At the stone entrance to Slytherin’s common room, she paused. Then, in a voice almost too soft to hear, she whispered the password. The door creaked open and swallowed her into darkness.
Peeves turned, ready to leave—
But stopped cold.
Severus Snape was standing at the end of the corridor. His expression was unreadable, “Peeves,” Snape said, his voice quiet, dangerous. “Why are you following Ella?”
Peeves gulped. Snape was one of the few beings in Hogwarts who could genuinely scare him.
“I was just... just—” Peeves stammered.
“Just what?” Snape’s voice flat. “Just harassing a student?”
“I was only having a bit of fun,” Peeves mumbled, wringing his hands. “But the little snake didn’t... She didn’t even look at me.” He looked slightly bewildered. “She was crying, sir. Really crying.”
Snape's cold exterior shifted, only slightly. His lips pressed into a thin line. “Explain,” he ordered.
So Peeves did. He told Snape everything. The mocking. The empty classroom. The sobs, the way she didn’t flinch even when chaos exploded behind her.
“She didn’t even seem to care I was there,” Peeves finished. “Like... like I wasn’t even real.”
Snape was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. But something behind his eyes darkened.
“From now on,” he said slowly, firmly, “you are to leave Ella alone. If you see her being bullied by other students, you will come to me. Immediately. Is that clear?”
Peeves gaped. ”But I’m no snitch!”
Snape leaned in. ”You are whatever I require you to be.”
Peeves nodded. “Yes, Professor Snape. I understand.” And for the first time in a long time, Peeves felt no urge to cackle.
Alone in the corridor, Snape stared at the common room entrance, his expression unreadable.
That night, Ella jerked upright in bed, her fingers twisting in the sheets, chest heaving, the remnants of the nightmare still in her mind. She pressed a hand to her chest, willing her heart to slow down.
It was the same nightmare. The one that kept coming back. But this time… this time it was more vivid, more real.
Ella looked around the room, she saw Nancy and Lucy, sleeping soundly. Ella felt a rush of relief, knowing that her friends were next to her. She gave up on trying to sleep, knowing that it was a lost cause.
Quietly, she slipped from bed. She reached for her frog plushie, cradling it close, she made her way down the stairs toward the Slytherin common room. The fire had died down, Shadows danced along the walls, with the soft pulse of the underwater.
Ella curled up on one of the armchairs, drawing her knees to her chest and hugging the plush frog tightly. She watched the movement of the lake outside. She missed the stars, but the water was enough now.
Once she calmed down she start to walk through the room, She wished that someone else was awake, someone to talk to. But the room was empty, and the only sound was her own footsteps.
As she reached the far wall, something caught her attention—a small, nearly imperceptible crack in the wood paneling. She blinked, stepped closer, and ran her fingers along the edge. It wasn’t just a crack.
It was a door.
Hidden in the shadows, cleverly blended into the architecture, its presence was almost ghostly. With a hesitant breath, Ella turned the cold brass knob. The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room beyond.
She gasped softly.
The room was beautiful in its chaos—tall, overfilled bookshelves towered from floor to ceiling, a rolling ladder rested against one shelf. Ella stepped inside, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and ink. Her gaze roamed the room until it settled on a large painting hanging on the far wall. Unlike the others in Hogwarts, this one didn’t move. It was utterly still.
It showed a battle scene, with soldiers and horses in a fierce fight. She ran her fingers along the fabric, admiring the detail and craftsmanship. Her fingers traced the entwined edge—then stopped.
A cord. It was thin, almost the same color as the tapestry, without thinking, she pulled.
The fabric swung back soundlessly, revealing a door.
Revealing yet another doorway. This one was different—grander. Carved into the dark oak. The mermaid carved into its surface seemed to watch her, her tail coiled around the handle. Ella reached out. The carving was cold beneath her fingertips.
She stepped back.
The passage beyond the door was narrow and shadowed, carved from ancient stone. It exhaled damp air, thick with the scent of the lake. Something inside her whispered don’t go. But her curiosity kept her moving, so she took a deep breath and stepped into the passage.
As Ella walked deeper into the passage, the air became colder and heavier. She could hear the sound of water lapping against the walls with a faint far away voices.
She quickened her pace, her feet splashing through the shallow water on the floor and the walls were covered in seaweed and shells. The further she went more uneasy she felt. She could feel the weight of the stone pressing down on her, and she felt like she was being watched. The passage seemed to go on forever, and she began to wonder if she would ever find the end of it.
It became pitch black at one point, she didn’t realize she walked that far, she couldn't see a thing. She remembered leaving her wand behind, she knew that she couldn't conjure light without it. She stood in the darkness, feeling the panic rising in her chest.
Ella could feel her heart racing, and she struggled to catch her breath. She knew that she was awake, but she felt like she was in the grip of her nightmare. The whispering seemed to be coming from all around her, and she felt like she was being surrounded by a thousand voices.
She squeezed her eyes shut, though it made no difference. She tried to calm herself—just your imagination, just your imagination—but her body didn’t believe it. The fear was too real. Her hands were trembling. Her knees locked in place.
Ella spun around, her heart lodged in her throat. But there was no one there. She tried to reason with herself—it’s just the dark, just your mind— But the fear was rising up inside her, and she could feel herself starting to panic.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. But the fear was too strong. She started to shake, her whole body trembling. Ella’s knees hit the damp stone with a jarring thud. The darkness pressed in from all sides, thick and suffocating. She clutched the frog plushie to her chest.
She tried to focus on her breathing, trying to stay calm. But it was no use. She buried her face in it, trying to block out the fear, she could feel the tears streaming down her face, rocking ever so slightly as if it could ground her.
She didn't know what to do, how to make the fear go away. The memory of the two dead blonde figures from her nightmare was still fresh in her mind. She had no idea who they were, or why they were haunting her dreams.
But she knew that they were connected to her fear, and she couldn't get them out of her head. The more she tried to push them away, the stronger they seemed to become, rooted deep in the nightmare that wouldn’t let her go.
She let out a sob, feeling like she was losing control. Ella's tears kept flowing, like a river. She cried until her eyes were sore, until her throat was raw.
Ella's body tensed as she heard the footsteps approach. She felt a new rush of fear, and her heart was racing. But she kept her eyes closed, too afraid to see who or what was coming.
“Please,” a voice said, soft and gentle. “Please open your eyes.”
Ella hesitated, but something about the voice was familiar, and she found herself drawn to it. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Standing in front of her was Theo, smiling softly.
She felt a wave of relief wash over her. She rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close. She didn't want to let go, didn't want to lose this feeling safety. Burying her face in his shoulder.
“It's okay,” Theo said, his voice soothing.
Her breath hitched in her chest, she knew Theo was with her and she is not alone now, that she didn't have to be afraid. But it was hard to let go of the fear, to trust that things would be okay.
Ella's tears fell freely, soaking Theo's shirt. She couldn't hold back the emotions that had been building up inside her for the last days. She felt like she could finally let go of all the fear and worry.
“I'm sorry,” she said, her voice shaking. “I just…” Her voice trembling. “Please don't leave me alone. I'm so scared.”
Theo held her even closer. “I won't leave you,” he said, his voice gentle and reassuring.
His hug felt warm and comforting, soothing her. The fear began to fade, and she felt herself starting to relax, his voice soft and gentle. “Everything is going to be alright, just breathe.”
Slowly, Ella's tears began to dry, and she pulled back, she looked into his eyes, her eyes still glassy with tears. She gave him a weak smile, He returned it without hesitation. “You're safe now,” Theo said. “I'm not going anywhere.”
Together, Theo led Ella back into the room with the bookshelves. She looked around, the room seemed brighter and more welcoming than it had before. Theo stood next to her, a reassuring presence.
Ella's fingers tightened around Theo's sleeve as she glanced back at the shadowed passage. “What is this place?”
Theo’s gaze followed hers. “It’s called the Merpeople’s Passage. It’s a secret that's been passed down through generations of Slytherin students,” he said. “A direct path from our common room to the heart of the Black Lake. Like a hidden shortcut.”
Ella blinked. “They’ve been here for centuries. Peaceful, mostly. They live in harmony with the other creatures in the lake, and they keep to themselves unless disturbed.”
Ella’s mind reeled. It felt like something out of a dream—or maybe a nightmare. “The whispers,” she said slowly. “I heard them… in the passage. All around me.”
“The whispers you heard in the passage were the voices of the Merpeople,” Theo explained. “They can communicate telepathically, and they often do so in a sing-song manner. It can be very unsettling, especially for those who are not used to it.”
Ella nodded slowly, absorbing his words. The shadows still lingered, but the panic had begun to fade, replaced by a cautious curiosity.
“Hey,” Theo said softly, smiling at her. “You’re safe now. Even though they weren’t going to hurt you anyway.” She simply nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, unable to express how deeply grateful she was.
“How did you find me?” she finally managed, her voice low.
“I sneaked out for a late-night snack,” Theo admitted, giving her a small, sheepish grin. “On my way back from the kitchens, I saw the library door open. I knew Draco and Lorenzo weren’t there—though they usually come here to study or talk.”
He shifted slightly, “I figured they’d just forgotten to close it. But then I noticed the passage door was open too. I thought maybe Matthew had gone in,” Theo continued. “So I went to check… but then I heard crying. I pulled out my wand, followed the sound—and found you.”
His voice softened at the end, his expression warm and reassuring.
“But how did you end up there?” Theo asked gently, concern in his voice.
Ella hesitated, then spoke, her voice shaking. “I… I had a terrible day. Honestly, it's been building for days—but today was just too much. I couldn’t take the bullying anymore. And when I finally fell asleep, I woke up in the middle of that nightmare again—the one I’ve been having for almost seven years now.”
Theo listened quietly, his heart breaking for her. He had never seen Ella like this. She was always smiling and laughing with them, but today she was so vulnerable and scared.
He realized in that moment just how much he had grown to care about her. Maybe it was the orphan part that made him care more about her, they had something in common, even if it was a sad thing.
“I want you to know,” Theo began, his voice rougher than he intended, “that you’re not alone. If anyone ever tries to bully you again, just tell me, Matthew, Draco Or Lorenzo. We’ll be there, I promise.”
Ella felt her eyes welling up with tears again, but this time they were different. They were tears of gratitude, and of relief.
“Thank you, Theo,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
Theo smiled, warm and kind. “You don’t need to thank me,” he said, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. “We’re friends. That’s what friends do.”
Ella felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She was no longer alone in her struggle she had people who would stand by her, she felt safe.
Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around Theo, hugging him tightly. He froze for a moment, then slowly returned the embrace. Her heart swelled. She felt like she could face anything, as long as she had him—and the others—by her side.
“This feels nice,” Theo murmured, barely audible. “I haven’t been hugged in years.”
Ella pulled back, brushing away the last of her tears. “Then I’ll make sure you get lots of hugs,” she said with a soft, big smile. “I’m so glad you’re my friend.”
“Me too,” Theo replied, smiling.
Ella tilted her head. “Your uncle doesn’t hug you?”
Theo’s smile wavered. He looked away and gave a small nod.
“Is he one of those...tough love’ kinds?” she asked, her tone filled with quiet sympathy.
Theo shook his head. “He’s more of a... ‘no love’ kind.”
“Oh, I'm sorry” she said softly. It was clear that his uncle's lack of affection had taken a toll on him.
Theo gave a faint shrug. “Well…my uncle never had a good relationship with my father, he left the family business—if you can call following You-Know-Who a business—and married my mum. My uncle never forgave him for either of those things.”
He paused, then added, “Always saw me as an extension of my father, just another mistake, another dissepiment.” Ella listened in silence, her heart breaking more with every word.
Theo’s voice trembled. “. That I’d end up alone, even my parents had left me. And that no one ever would.”
Ella’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes stung.
Theo said, eyes fixed on the floor. “He said I should get used to it. To being alone, because no one would love me.”
Ella was horrified by Theo's words. It was clear that his uncle had done everything in his power to make Theo feel bad about himself. And he had done a lot of damage, had deeply affected Theo's self-esteem.
“Your uncle is wrong,” she said fiercely. Theo let out a shaky laugh, rough with unshed emotion.
“Then tell me,” Ella said, her eyes bright with conviction, “Why do you actually have friends who love you? Why can’t the Quidditch team play without you? Even Squeaky said he likes you.” She smiled at him, playful but sincere.
Theo stared at her, something fragile and hopeful flickering in his eyes. For the first time, he looked like he might actually believe her.
“Do you really believe that?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.
“I do,” Ella said without hesitation. “You were there for me,” she continued, a soft smile spreading across her face. “You were literally a light in the darkness for me. I’ll do the same for you. I will always be here.”
Theo’s heart swelled. He had never felt so accepted, so wanted.
She said, grinning as she brandished Froggy between them. The plushie’s smile seemed to agree. “Now it’s my turn. And Froggy’s. If you ever need him, just say the word.”
Theo snorted. Ella said with straight face. “Those legs? Deadly weapons.” She wiggled Froggy’s stubby limbs, sending Theo into real laughter.
Then she held out her pinky. “I promise to never leave you alone. No matter what,” Theo looked at it, then smiled and linked his pinky with hers. Ella gave his pinky a small squeeze.
With their promise sealed, a sense of calm settled over them—quiet and steady, like the beginning of something new and unbreakable.
As they headed back toward their dormitories, Theo nudged her shoulder playfully.
“Next time you fancy a midnight adventure, wake me up, yeah?” Ella turned to him, the ghost of laughter still playing at the corners of her lips. She didn't trust her voice not to waver, so she simply nodded, her smile saying everything words couldn't.
Ella curled up under the blankets, Froggy tucked securely under her arm. When she closed her eyes, the comforting memory of Theo and their pinky promise.
Theo lay motionless in the dark, unblinking, as the echoes of his uncle’s words—”You’re a disappointment. No one will ever love you.”—began to fade. They didn’t vanish completely, but they were softer now, as though muffled by something else.
Ella’s voice took their place.
“You were my light in the darkness.”
“I’ll always be here for you.”
“I promise to never leave you alone.”
A lump rose in his throat, he blinked, and a tear slid down the side of his face, falling silently onto his pillow. But it wasn’t from pain. It was from something else. Something he hadn’t let himself feel in so long.
He curled onto his side, pressing his hand to his chest as if trying to hold it there, to keep it from slipping away. Ella had looked at all of him, even the broken pieces, and said she wasn’t going anywhere.
Across the dormitory, he imagined her curled up in bed too, hopefully sleeping peacefully. Hopefully feeling the same comfort he was.
That night both of them, closed their eyes, and drifted off to sleep, with smiles on their faces.
Notes:
AND THAT'S A WRAP, YOU MAGICAL WEIRDOS!
So I was looking at the word count and... oh boy. This is going to be a very long fic. Seriously, I can't make it shorter - these first chapters are around 23-30 pages, which are actually small compared to what's coming. I've got one draft that's NINETY. SOMETHING. Pages. What am I doing?? I don’t know—but I can’t stop. I have to write everything I see in my mind. Every little detail. Sorry not sorry.
I really hope this long-ass fic makes you laugh, cry, or even be annoyed at the characters (because trust me, they deserve it sometimes lol).
Okay, back to the chapter now - we finally got Theo's backstory this time! SPOILER: I believe Theo is my favorite character,(don’t tell the others) and I'm pretty sure he'll be yours too once you get to know him better in future chapters. Trust me.RANDOM CHAPTER QUESTION:
Would you try to impress Peeves or just avoid him? For me, I’d definitely try to impress him. If you ask him, he won’t leave you alone and will make fun of you non-stop. Why? Because if you don’t, he won’t leave you alone and will prank you non-stop. Impress him, and maybe (just maybe) he’ll give you a break—though it won’t be easy.
PS. Yes, I'm biased. No, I won't apologize.
PPS. Buckle up - his story gets wilder.Dude, even my notes are long. I'm a yapper even on keyboard lol."
With love, chaos, and and a questionable amount of daydreaming.
– [Elaf Mohammed/Buttercow]
Chapter 8: chapter 8
Notes:
Hello, lovely weirdos, Potterheads and daydreamers! 🧙🏽♀️
CHAPTER 8 IS HERE!!!
I’ve officially given up on trying to come up with a title for this one. My brain said nope.
Also, if I knew how to add memes into these notes would’ve been ten times funnier but alas, we suffer.
I still haven’t figured out how I’m going to post, who knows? Not me. Right now, it’s all vibes and how obsessed I am at the moment (very obsessed). I’ll try my best to stick to a schedule though… because I’ve basically paused everything else in my life for this fic.Talk about priorities.
Hope you like this chapter.🌹
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The dungeon’s torchlight flickered as Snape walked through the corridors, Peeves’ words echoed in his mind, each syllable scraping against old wounds he’d thought long scarred over.
He stopped in front of the window, his own reflection stared back at him, the hooked nose, the pale skin, the eyes that had seen too much cruelty, both given and received.
"Snivellus."
He remembered what it felt like to be her.
The mocking laughter of James Potter and his friends still rang in his ears after all these years, followed by the ghost sting of hexes, the way even his Slytherin peers had turned up their noses at the half-blood with too much to prove. He was a Slytherin, yes, but not the kind they wanted. He was a half-blood, raised with little, and even as he clung to ambition, intelligence, and discipline, it had never been enough.
His fist clenched.
Ella’s face flashed in his memory—not pleading, not fearful, but resigned. That was what cut deepest. She expected no rescue. Just as he hadn’t. She, too, was navigating the same shadows he once walked.
But he didn’t want her to become like him. Hardened. Isolated. Driven only by survival and bitterness. No, he thought. She will not be like me. Another Snape.
So, he decided to keep a closer eye on her, As the days went by, he found his gaze lingering on Ella more often than he intended. And, much to his own surprise, he found himself becoming quite fond of her.
There was something about the way she tried to hold herself together, even when she was clearly not. It reminded him of a younger version of himself the one who walked these same corridors, always expecting a sick prank or bully around every corner.
Peeves’ reports had become a ritual, Yet every time the he came with news of some fresh bullying, she was never completely alone. Always—always—one of the boys was with her.
Theo, most often, who now carried an extra quill because Ella’s kept “mysteriously” snapping. Sometimes it was Matthew, whose glares sent younger bullies scattering. Or Lorenzo, had taken to walking her to classes. Draco, of all people, hexing a fourth-year who’d called her a Mudblood behind her back.
It was this unspoken shield they built around her that stirred something deep in Snape’s chest. Something he never got to fell. Even Lily’s friendship had been ruined with the weight of his own insecurities.
He knew better than to interfere too directly. He would not coddle her. He would not comfort. But he would assign detentions to three Ravenclaws for “poorly brewed” potions (their real crime: snickering as Ella passed their table).
He watched her more closely, noticing how quiet she had become in class. Ella, who once offered answers with a kind of nervous eagerness, now kept her head down. Her hand no longer rose. Her ink smudged more often. Even when he gave her a an necessary detention, she didn't seem as annoyed more like she was waiting for it.
One afternoon, as Snape had been on his way to the staff room when the sound of laughter stopped him. He knew that tone. He had heard it too many times, his dark eyes narrowing as he followed the sound around the corner. There, a group of fourth-year Ravenclaws and Slythriens stood clustered together. At the center of their attention stood Ella.
"Look at this That’s Snape’s hair twin, isn’t it?” One of the boys reached out, tugging at a strand of her dark hair with a sneer. Another added with a mock gasp, “Do you think she uses bat grease too?” They all laughed.
Snape’s fingers twitched toward his wand, his pulse roaring in his ears. Decades might have passed, but the words still cut with the same precision.
He watched as Ella met their gaze with calm eyes. She didn't argue or try to defend herself with biting words or tears. She simply said, with a voice steady and quiet,
“I like my hair.” The laughter faltered for a beat—thrown off by the sheer simplicity of her response. Ella, gave them a long look, turned on her heel and walked away.
Snape exhaled sharply.
He had spent years perfecting the art of withering glares and venomous retorts, but this quiet defiance was something else entirely. Something he had never mastered.
The moment the bullies noticed him, their laughter died in their throats. His glare was enough to send them scattering, he watched them go, his expression carved from stone, then turned and made his way back to his office.
Once inside, he sank into the worn leather chair behind his desk. For a long moment, he just sat there in silence, the memory of Ella’s smile—that first, hesitant one she had given him during detention flashed in his mind. She’d been nervous, of course. Most students were.
It had been so unexpected, and for some reason, he had smiled back, he felt his own lips twitch in response. He hadn’t even realized he was capable of it anymore. Smiling wasn’t something he did certainly not with students. He had schooled his expression immediately, of course.
But her smile had been different. Soft, hesitant, but warm. The kind of smile that reached into you before you could put up your walls.
Snape leaned back, staring at the dark stone ceiling of his office, he had spent years becoming a wall, untouchable. He had learned how to hide, how to survive, how to let bitterness settle like armor over all his soft, bleeding places.
He had been mocked by his housemates, humiliated by the likes of James Potter and Sirius Black, and discarded by nearly everyone who he cared about.
And yet he had never once said, “I like my hair.”
He had never looked them in the eyes and owned his differences.
Snape found his thoughts drifting again, he had observed Ella long enough to notice the difference when she was with her friends and when she was alone.
Alone, she moved carefully, her gaze often dropped to the floor. Her shoulders hunched ever so slightly, as if she were trying to disappear.
But when she was with her friends, she laughed, became vivid, like she was a different person entirely. It was as if their presence gave her permission to exist fully. Even Draco, seemed to soften in her presence, his usual sneers replaced by something resembling protectiveness.
He wondered about her past, about what made her walk so quietly and fight so fiercely at the same time. Was there something deeper that carved her into the person she was becoming?
For a man who claimed not to care, he was beginning to care far more than he should.
And it terrified him.
Because he knew what happened to people who cared.
Still, somewhere beneath the weight of dark years and regrets, something in him hoped quietly, foolishly and desperately that maybe this time would be different.
Maybe, with Ella, he could do something he had never been able to do for himself.
It was the last day of detention. The air smelled faintly of parchment, spilled ink, and potions that went wrong. Snape sat at his desk, quill scratching quietly as he graded essays.
Across the room, Ella, Matthew, and Lorenzo were silently scrubbing cauldrons. Snape had expected Theo to be here. It was usually Theo who got caught in fights alongside Matthew not Lorenzo. But there he was, calm and compliant, casting the occasional glance at Ella, who worked with uncharacteristic quietness.
Snape’s eyes flicked to her more than once, though he didn’t raise his head. There was something in her that drew his attention again and again, like watching the sea, wondering just how far it went down.
Snape leaned back in his chair, he would never ask her. Of course not. But that didn’t stop the questions from rising. Not out loud—but in the quiet of his mind, where he couldn't lie to himself.
Snape gave a quiet scoff—at himself more than anything. But he did not ask questions like that. He did not ask questions that made people think he cared.
Instead, he did what he had always done.
Legilimency, no messy questions, no vulnerability—just cold, efficient and clean.
He entered gently, expecting to find flickers of emotion, trails of memory, secrets and fears. The usual chaotic storm that lived in the minds.
But he hit a wall, she had locked him out.
Not a metaphorical one. A real, mental blockade. Smooth. Solid. Implacable. He leaned back slightly, masking the surprise. Few had ever been able to resist him. He had broken through the defenses of adults, of trained minds—even the Dark Lord himself had once acknowledged his talents in Legilimency, but this felt different. Not taught. Not deliberate. Natural. Or... born from necessity.
He tried again.
This time, not gently—his intent sharper, more forceful. A mental push designed not to harm, but to provoke a reaction.
And it did, across the room, Ella flinched.
Her brow creased, and she touched her temple with a small wince, blinking as though something had pressed against her skull from within. Snape watched, still as stone, his expression unreadable—but inside, a jolt of guilt stirred.
He stopped immediately.
The detention was coming to an end, Matthew and Lorenzo finished their work and began to gather their things. But when Ella reached for her bag, he spoke.
“Ella, a word with you before you leave.”
His voice was calm, but carried that unmistakable authority that left no room for dismissal.
She turned, surprise flickering in her features. “As Head of Slytherin House, it’s my responsibility to review and approve any trip requests for Hogsmeade. I also need to confirm your plans for the Christmas break, so the necessary arrangements can be made.” He paused, watching her carefully. “Will you be staying here at Hogwarts, or returning to the orphanage?”
Ella’s expression shifted. She nodded, her eyes thoughtful. “I haven’t made any plans yet, sir. But I’ll let you know soon.”
Snape inclined his head slightly. There was a long beat of silence. He should have ended it there. Sent her on her way. But curiosity gnawed at him.
Before he could stop himself, he spoke again.
“One more thing. Do you know anything about Legilimency?”
Ella blinked, visibly puzzled. Snape studied her, leaning back slightly. “Or Occlumency?”
She shook her head, slower this time. “No… I’ve never heard of either of those things.”
He didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. His silence was telling enough.
Ella waited for a moment, then added softly, “Should I?”
Instead, he said, "You are dismissed." She lingered for a heartbeat longer, then turned and quietly exited the room.
She wasn’t lying, he would’ve known if she was. How could someone with no knowledge of Legilimency possess such a fortress of mental defense? Had it been trauma that shaped it? Something magical in her bloodline?
Or perhaps… something darker? Something hidden? Natural Occlumency was rare, reserved for those whose trauma had forced their minds into lockdown. But what had she survived?
He didn’t know. And he hated not knowing.
But more than that, he hated the pull he felt toward finding out.
He clenched his jaw, irritated at himself, as much as he loathed the thought, he knew he would continue to watch her—even after this detention ended. He told himself it was his duty as a professor. As her Head of House. Nothing more.
But he knew better.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
When Ella returned to the Slytherin common room, she was greeted by Matthew and Draco, both of whom immediately perked up at the sight of her.
"So?" Draco leaned forward, "What did the Bat of the Dungeon want?"
Ella shrugged off her bag and sank into the armchair across from them. “He said he needed to talk about approving my Hogsmeade trip. And he asked whether I’ll be going back to the orphanage for Christmas break.”
Matthew’s grin faltered, just for a second.
Then Ella frowned, rubbing her temple absently. "Oh, and he asked the weirdest thing—if I knew about Legilimency or Occlumency."
Draco’s eyebrows shot up. "Those are advanced," he said, a little too quickly. "Like, Very advanced."
Ella narrowed her eyes. “How do you even know about them?”
“I read about them in one of the books from the library,” Draco said, trying to sound casual. “I heard my mum mention Occlumency once, so I looked it up. Thought it might be useful to know.”
“That’s incredible!” Matthew muttered, clearly unimpressed. “I can’t believe you managed to dig up such rare information on your own, you bookworm.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s better than landing yourself in detention every week.”
"Oi! I’ll have you know my detention was noble," Matthew declared, "Defending Slytherin’s honor against that Hufflebuff—"
"You threw a pudding at him."
"And I’d do it again!"
Ella let out a soft laugh, watching the way they bantered with familiar ease, her gaze drifted to the empty armchair where Theo usually sat. “Where are Theo and Lorenzo?”
“Enzo’s probably in the library,” Matthew said, kicking his feet up onto the low table. “Theo grabbing snacks.” Ella nodded, leaning back.
Draco cleared his throat, steering the conversation back with surprising gentleness. "So. Christmas. You staying or...going back?"
“I’m not sure,” she said, her voice quieter, her fingers twisted in her skirt, the orphanage in her mind, she said softly. "I think I will. It’s… nicer here."
There was a flicker of sadness in her voice, barely there—but both boys caught it.
"Good choice," Draco said, "The castle’s brilliant during the holidays." Matthew nodded enthusiastically. "And no classes! Just sleeping in and eating sweets."
Ella giggled, but a yawn cut her off mid-laugh. “I think I’ll head off to bed. I’m pretty tired.” stretching her arms.
“Night, Ella,” Matthew said with a nod, his voice softer. “Sweet dreams,” Draco added, giving her a small wave. “See you in the morning,” she replied as she headed toward the dormitory stairs.
The next day, after History of Magic, Ella made her way The next day, after History of Magic, Ella made her way to Professor Snape’s office. She paused in front of the heavy wooden door, took a steadying breath, and knocked.
Ella pushed the door open and stepped inside, doing her best to mask her nerves. Snape looked up from behind his desk, his dark eyes meeting hers with their usual intensity.
"Have you decided?" he asked without preamble.
Ella nodded. "I’m staying at Hogwarts for Christmas." He studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a brief, curt nod, he returned his attention to the stack of parchment in front of him.
"If there's nothing else, you're dismissed."
Ella hesitated, her fingers tightening briefly on the strap of her bag. She turned to leave, but as she reached the door, she paused—her hand resting on the doorknob.
“Thank you, Professor,” she said quietly, her voice sincere.
Snape looked up, meeting her gaze. There was no pretense in her expression, just quiet gratitude. For what, exactly, he wasn’t sure. Before he could respond—not that he had any intention of doing so—she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.
As Ella walked down the hallway, a weight seemed to lift from her shoulders. She had made her decision. This Christmas would be different—there would be no bullies, she smiled to herself. For once, she was hopeful about the holidays, her steps slowed when she spotted a familiar face ahead, one of the girls from the orphanage.
Her eyes lit up. Without thinking, she hurried toward the girl, ready to greet her like an old friend. But as she approached, the girl's expression changed instantly. She raised a hand sharply, stopping her.
Before Ella could ask anything, the girl glanced around nervously, then grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into an empty classroom. She closed the door quickly behind them.
“What are you doing?” the girl hissed, her voice tense and low. “You can’t be seen with me here. Do you understand?”
Ella blinked, taken aback. “I….I just wanted to say hi.”
“You can’t tell anyone you know me from the orphanage,” the girl said, her voice urgent, eyes wide with anxiety. “I don’t want people to know where I came from. Do you get it?”
Ella nodded slowly, a sick feeling beginning in her stomach.
The girl let out a breath and began pacing. “People treat you differently if they know. They think you’re a charity case. I’ve worked too hard to escape that.”
Ella stayed quiet, listening to her. “I want to be seen as more than just… that,” the girl said. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I just can’t risk it. People already bully you for it, and I can’t be dragged into that.”
Ella’s eyes stung, but she forced a small nod. “I won’t do it again,” she said.
The girl hesitated, then offered a brief, regretful glance. “Thanks.”
Ella stepped back into the hallway, the door clicking softly shut behind her. She stood still for a moment, staring ahead but seeing nothing. The sinking in her stomach deepened.
Now she is used as an example of what not to be. And that, somehow, hurt even more than being bullied.
The Great Hall buzzed with the usual dinner chatter, the clatter of cutlery and bursts of laughter blending into a comforting hum. Ella sat at the dinner table, her mind a million miles away. Ella sat at the dinner table, her mind a million miles away.
She stared at her plate, pushing food around with her fork but not really seeing it.
The boys exchanged glances. They didn’t want to push her. Not yet.
Eventually, Ella blinked and looked up, snapping out of her thoughts just enough to notice the stares. Her cheeks flushed “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I just had a lot of homework.”
It was a weak excuse, but they didn’t press her.
“It’s okay, Ella,” Lorenzo said gently. “I can help you with it.”
She shook her head quickly, forcing a small smile. “No need. I can do it.” Still, she could feel their worry, but they went back to their meals with deliberate nonchalance.
Then her eyes found Nancy. She was seated a few places away, her curls bouncing as she threw her head back in laughter at something. She looked… happy.
Ella couldn't help but feel a little pang of sadness.
She and Nancy used to be close, but they hadn't been spending much time together lately. Ella missed the easy friendship they had shared, Now Nancy had a new circle, one that didn’t include her.
She watched as Nancy continued to laugh and talk with the other students.
"You know," Draco said, leaning in a little closer to her, his voice low but certain, "I think you're better off without her."
Ella blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness. "I'm not rude to her or anything now," he added quickly, as if reading her expression. "Just telling you how I see it."
"Draco’s right," Matthew chimed in, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "You’ve got us. Besides, she’s not the only one who can be a social butterfly."
He gestured casually. “You’re friends with the Weasley twins, and Hermione Granger—the one who’s always a step ahead of these two," he said, pointing at Draco and Lorenzo with a teasing grin.
"And let’s not forget ourselves," Theo added, sliding into the conversation with a smug grin. “The most popular Slytherins in school.”
Ella giggled at Theo’s confidence and nodded. “Oh, how lucky I am.”
“Very lucky,” Draco said with a small smile, clearly pleased she was cheering up.
She was happy that they didn’t see her the way the other Slytherins did—even though, in many ways, they looked down on everyone else.
With her, they were different.
The next morning, Ella’s eyes fluttered open, today was the Hogsmeade trip. A grin spread across her face as she sat up. She was finally going to explore the village she'd heard so much about.
She jumped out of bed, quickly pulling on her warm clothes, and gave herself one last glance in the mirror before hurrying out.
Down in the Slytherin common room, the boys were already waiting. “Took you long enough,” Theo teased, arms crossed but grinning.
“You ready?” Draco simply asked, his tone softer than the others.
Ella nodded, her heart skipping a little. “Let’s go.”
They made their way to the Great Hall for a quick breakfast, everyone seemed lighter, brighter.
When they finally stepped outside, the cold air bit at their cheeks, Ella breath forming little clouds in front of her. Draco strode ahead, as he launched into a dramatic retelling of some Slytherin achievement. Matthew interrupted with increasingly outrageous add-ons, while Lorenzo rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to correct them.
Theo fell into step beside Ella, his hands tucked into his pockets.
"Happy?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. Ella nodded, her eyes wide as the village came into view. Theo smirked. "Wait till you see Zonko’s."
The boys led Ella through the streets of Hogsmeade, Theo and Matthew took turns pointing out all their favorite spots, as if her seeing them through their eyes made them new again. Ella laughed and listened, wide-eyed at the magic of the village. Snow fell softly around them.
Ella pressed her nose against the window of Honeydukes, marveling at the mountains of shimmering sweets. She wandered from shelf to shelf, her arms filling quickly...until she reached the counter and froze. She stared, panicked, trying to remember which was which.
Before she could speak, Lorenzo gently took the coins from her hands. “Here,” he said, his fingers moved stacking them into neat piles. "Three sickles for the chocolate frog, two knuts for the beans. The gold ones are galleons—save those for textbooks."
Ella’s cheeks flushed "You’ll get it," he added, dropping the correct change into the shopkeeper’s palm. "Took Draco weeks to stop overpaying for everything."
"I did not! I was giving them more because I can." Draco snapped from the doorway, though the tips of his ears turned pink.
Ella giggled, tucking her purchases into her pocket. As the others paid for their own sweets, Ella found herself drawn again to the stand of Chocolate Frogs. She picked one out, then added a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.
Her fingers hovered over the ribbon selection—she chose a soft lavender one and wrapped it neatly around the little bundle. The gift wasn’t much, but maybe it would be enough to say what she hadn’t been able to: I still care.
She slipped it into her pocket, unsure if she'd even get the chance to give it to Nancy. Still, it felt right. The boys noticed but didn’t comment.
They continued their walk, laughing, eating their sweets, and making fun of each other. Taking in the sights and sounds of as they wandered through the village, Ella couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. The only thing missing was... Nancy.
As they neared the castle, Theo suddenly scooped up a handful of snow and hurled it at Matthew. It smacked him square in the back. Matthew spun around with a loud “Oi!” and grinned, already scooping snow.
Ella, Draco, and Lorenzo slowed to a stop, watching as they s broke into an snowball fight. Theo and Matthew moved like wild creatures. Theo ducked behind a tree, peeking out just long enough to launch another snowball. Matthew hit back by charging at him with two in hand, both missing wildly.
Ella couldn’t resist, with a laugh, Ella scooped up a handful of snow and hurled it at Theo. It exploded against his shoulder in a powdery burst, and he gasped in mock outrage. “Traitor!”
Draco raised a brow, folding his arms. “Oh no.”
“Too late,” Lorenzo said with a grin.
Ella, already scrambling for cover as Matthew lobbed a snowball the size of a Quaffle in her direction. Snow flew in all directions as Ella shrieked and dodged, lobbing snowballs at both boys.
From the sidelines, Draco and Lorenzo observed like royalty at a joust—Draco with his arms crossed, smirking, while Lorenzo offered dry commentary. “Matthew’s form is terrible,” Lorenzo noted. “He throws like he’s trying to dislocate his shoulder.”
Eventually, winded and soaked, the group collapsed into the snow, their breath puffing out in white clouds, cheeks flushed with laughter and cold. Ella flopped onto her back, her cloak damp and her hair sticking to her forehead in messy wet strands.
Lorenzo looked over at her, chuckling. “You look like a wet cat.”
Ella snorted with laughter and sat up, scooping a handful of snow. He sidestepped it effortlessly.
“You missed,” he singsonged, dodging her second attempt with a lazy grace that made her stick her tongue out at him.
Theo, still panting, propped himself up on one elbow. “Rematch tomorrow?”
“Absolutely not,” Draco drawled, brushing snow off his sleeves with fastidious disgust. “Some of us have standards.”
Ella reached up and ran her fingers through her soaked hair—and froze. Her eyes widened as she pulled a wet strand forward. It was even shorter than before.
“Oh, brilliant,” she muttered. “Just what I needed—a haircut from Mother Nature.”
Her once shoulder-length waves, already on the shorter side, had now shrunk into a damp, mess that barely brushed the bottom of her ears, it clung to her neck.
Matthew was the first to crack. “Did someone order a tired working elf look?” Theo’s grin was wicked as he circled her, inspecting the damage.
Theo snorted. “No, she’s giving more… startled pixie caught in a rainstorm.”
Draco, raised an eyebrow. “At least now you’ll save time on brushing it. Silver linings.” Lorenzo, added with a grin, “Honestly, Snape’s hair has more volume right now.”
That did it. Draco choked on a laugh, Ella rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, fine. Laugh it up,” she said, waving her hand dramatically. “I’ll just go hide in my room until it dries and goes back to its proper length.”
As they walked back to the castle, Matthew then dramatically offering his scarf as a ‘hair substitute.’ he said, holding it out with mock seriousness. “A substitute for your lost hair. May it bring you strength in these difficult times.”
The group burst out laughing, and Ella playfully shoved him, but she accepted the scarf anyway, wrapping it around her neck with a grin. Once inside, Ella scanned the room, her smile fading slightly. Nancy wasn’t there.
She had been hoping to see her. With a quiet sigh, Ella made her way to the girls' dormitory. She gently put it on Nancy’s, making sure the ribbon was still perfectly tied. Then she headed back downstairs and off to dinner.
The next morning, Ella awoke to soft sound of the black lake water. Still half-asleep, she instinctively ran her fingers through her hair—and froze.
It felt longer.
Sitting up quickly, she reached again, tugging a few strands in front of her eyes. Her heart gave a little jolt. It was longer than the night before.
Ella scrambled out of bed and padded across the room to the mirror. She stared at her reflection, blinking in disbelief. Her hair, which for as long as she could remember had refused to grow past a certain point, now hung past her collarbones. She tilted her head, tugged gently at the ends, and watched them slip between her fingers.
Her eyes widened. Since she was six years old, her hair had stayed the same—stubbornly short, nothing had ever changed that. She had always just accepted it as something strange about herself.
But now?
“It’s like it’s trying to catch up,” she murmured, brushing it back with wonder. A soft laugh escaped her lips—part disbelief, part amusement. “All right then,” she said to her reflection. “Let’s see what you can do.”
Maybe now she’d finally be able to try the styles she’d always admired on others. Braids, buns, maybe even something fancy for the next Hogsmeade trip.
She turned from the mirror with a growing smile, a small spark of excitement curling in her chest, comb in hand, she tried to retrace her steps—her routine hadn’t changed. No new shampoos, no experimental potions, and certainly no charms. She hadn’t even been trying to grow it.
She sighed, setting the comb down with a soft clink. Ella had never been one to obsess over her appearance. Sure, she liked to feel put-together, but this? This was something else, she couldn’t help but feel... curious. A little unsettled, too.
Maybe it would stop soon. Maybe it was just a delayed reaction to something she'd eaten or touched in Hogsmeade. Throwing on her uniform, she ran her fingers once more through her now-soft curtain of hair, the familiar weight of it—now heavier—rested against her back as she left the dorm.
The moment Ella stepped into the Great Hall, a hush fell over the nearest tables. She could feel it eyes on her, heads turning, mouths falling open. Her steps slowed as the weight of dozens of stares settled on her shoulders.
Her heart skipped. What now? She thought—but then, from the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the polished goblets lining the table.
Her hair.
It had grown even more.
What had barely skimmed her shoulders yesterday now flowed in long, dark waves past her waist. Loose and soft, drawing even more attention to her.
She heard the whispers as she passed:
“Did she use a spell?”
“Has to be a potion—nothing grows hair like that overnight.”
“Or yes my aunt used one before.”
Ella’s face flushed deep. She kept her head down and quickened her pace until she reached her usual seat, sliding onto the bench beside Theo as fast as she could and tried to pretend she didn’t notice the glances still coming her way.
But it was hard to ignore when even the toast seemed to be staring at her.
Theo leaned over, whispering, “You, uh... planning on entering a hair-growing competition any time soon?”
She gave him a sharp look, but it melted quickly into a half-smile. “Not funny.”
Ella could feel it—Draco's quiet study, Theo’s sideways glances, Matthew's furrowed brow. They weren’t mocking her, not like the whispers at the other tables. But they were just as baffled.
She shoved a piece of toast into her mouth, her appetite fading. The weight of the room, the eyes, the confusion—it was all too much. She was about to stand and disappear back to the sanctuary of her dorm when a gentle voice stopped her.
“Hey, Ella,” Lorenzo said softly, his tone warm and steady. “You okay?”
She looked up, startled. His eyes weren’t wide with shock or filled with judgment. Just concern. Real concern. “It’s been growing like crazy, and I don’t know what to do about it.” she replied, her voice wavering just a little.
Lorenzo leaned in, nodding thoughtfully. “Well, it’s definitely not normal,” he said, his hand hesitating before brushing gently against the ends of her hair.
Ella's hair had always been black, but now it was so dark that it almost seemed to absorb the light around it. It was as if her hair was made of purest night, shimmering with a deep, velvety darkness.
It was mesmerizing, and for a moment, she felt almost proud of it. She reached up and touched her hair, running her fingers through the long strands. It was soft and smooth, like silk, and it seemed to flow like water through his fingers.
“It’s... beautiful,” Lorenzo said quietly.
Ella blinked back, surprised. She had been so focused on how strange and out of place her hair looked that she hadn’t stopped to consider if it might actually look… good.
"It looks amazing," Draco said with a tone of awe, "It’s so soft," Theo added, running his fingers through a strand again like it was the rarest fabric. “I've never felt hair this soft before. I think you just unlocked a new texture on the softness scale.” Matthew said dreamily. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.”
Ella's cheeks turned a soft pink, flattered and slightly overwhelmed. Compliments were nice, but this felt like a hair product commercial disguised as a support group.
“Thanks,” she said, smiling shyly. “But it’s still weird. I've never had a hair growth like this. My hair’s been short since I was six. It never changed.”
Theo murmured, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Do you think something triggered it? A potion? A spell? A shampoo that’s not from the wizarding section?”
“I haven’t used anything new,” Ella said. “No spells, no potions. Just my regular routine.”
Lorenzo’s eyes lit up. “What if it’s your magic?”
Ella froze, the idea was as terrifying as it was fascinating.
“You think that’s possible?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s possible,” Draco said slowly. “But it could also be something else…who knows?”
Matthew raised a hand. “Okay, okay, what if she’s turning into an animagus? Like… a hair-based one. A were-hair?”
Everyone stopped and stared at him.
“What even is that?” Theo asked.
“I don’t know,” Matthew admitted. “I was just trying to contribute.”
Ella let out a laugh, Draco crossed his arms. “All jokes aside, McGonagall might be the best one to talk to. She’s seen everything. Transfiguration, unexplained bodily transformations. She’ll know what this is.”
Ella nodded, still trying to process it all. “Right. McGonagall. She’ll know what to do.”
“I’m sure she’ll do everything she can,” Lorenzo said gently, giving her a reassuring smile.
Nancy’s eyes widened as she took in Ella’s new look. “Wow, your hair is so long!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with awe. “It looks amazing!”
Ella smiled, brushing her fingers through her hair “Thanks,” she said. “I’m still not sure what happened. One minute it was short, and the next… it wasn’t.”
“Have you talked to anyone about it?” Nancy asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Like Professor McGonagall?”
“We were just talking about that,” Ella said, glancing toward the boys. “Do you think we should go after breakfast ends?”
“Absolutely,” Theo said without hesitation, his eyes alight with excitement. “We’ll go together and figure out what’s going on.”
“I’m coming too,” Nancy said quickly, reaching out to take Ella’s hand.
Lorenzo and Draco exchanged a look—less than thrilled. Ella noticed but chose to ignore it. They knew better than to argue with her, and it wasn’t worth the trouble to tell Nancy no.
“You two are such drama queens,” Draco muttered, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like Ella’s in any danger.”
“Yeah,” Lorenzo added with a short laugh, “She’s just got some extra hair. Nothing to get worked up about.”
Ella raised a brow and crossed her arms. “I’m glad you find this funny. I’m the one who has to deal with it, you know.”
Theo chuckled, shaking his head. “If it helps, you’re dealing with it fabulously.”
Nancy grinned. “Honestly, if I woke up with hair like that, I’d be showing it off to the whole school, even the portraits.”
Ella laughed, the tension easing slightly. As they made their way to Professor McGonagall’s office, whispers followed them through the halls.
“Oh! It’s so beautiful!”
“Wow, this look… magical.”
“She definitely used a charm or some kind of potion…”
Theo and Matthew were quick to glare at anyone who dared say that last part, their expressions sharp enough to silence the whispers. Draco, walking a few steps ahead with Lorenzo, muttered under his breath, “If I have to hear one more ‘Oh, it’s so magical!’ I might actually vomit.”
Lorenzo smirked. “Jealous your hair doesn’t have its own fan club?”
Draco gave him a look. “You’re one to talk. With all your different routines.”
Ella heard them and gave a small smile, but her stomach was in knots. She could also feel the quiet tension between the boys and Nancy—nothing had been said outright, but it was obvious they were barely tolerating each other. She appreciated Nancy’s support, truly, but she wished they’d all just get along.
They reached Professor McGonagall’s office and knocked. After a moment, the door opened, Professor McGonagall blinked, clearly surprised to find six Slytherins standing at her door. “Well,” she said, her tone brisk, “this is unexpected. What brings you all here?”
Lorenzo stepped forward, taking the lead. “It’s Ella’s hair,” he said, gesturing toward her. “It’s been growing… abnormally fast. We think it might be some kind of magical reaction.”
McGonagall’s gaze shifted to Ella, eyes narrowing slightly in inspection. “Hair growth can be caused by many things,” she said. “But I’m willing to hear more?”
Ella said, her voice soft and unsure. “Professor, I woke up this morning and it was longer than usual, but by the time I reached the Great Hall, it had grown even more. I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what’s happening.”
Professor McGonagall studied her carefully. “That’s… very unusual,” she admitted, her expression shifting to one of concern. “Have there been any other changes? Physical, emotional, magical? Anything out of the ordinary?”
Ella hesitated, searching her memory. “nothing really, just the nightmare.” she said quietly.
Professor McGonagall’s brows rose slightly. “A nightmare?”
Before Ella could say more, McGonagall gently held up a hand. “I think it would be best if we spoke in private. Thank you all for coming, but I’d like a word with Ella alone.”
There was a pause. The others exchanged glances but none argued. One by one, they nodded and stepped out.
As the door clicked shut behind them, Professor McGonagall gestured for her to sit, then took the seat beside her.
she conjured a cup of tea with a flick of her wand and pushed it toward Ella. "Drink," she said, "Then tell me about this nightmare."
Ella wrapped her hands around the warm cup, took a deep breath, bracing herself. “Mrs. Smith said it started when I turned five,” she said quietly, “It’s always the same … nothing new.”
Professor McGonagall nodded thoughtfully, listening intently. “Go on.”
Ella hesitated before continuing. “There are… two blonde figures lying on a wooden floor. They feel... familiar. Like I know them and everything feels cold, I’m surrounded by shadows. Not people. Just… shadows.”
Professor McGonagall said, "Dreams, are often the mind’s way of processing what the waking world cannot. But in some cases, they are something more." She leaned forward. "Tell me—have you ever noticed anything unusual about your magic? Spells working differently for you? Reactions to charms or potions?"
Ella frowned. "I... I don’t think of any. I’ve always been average at magic. If not worse than other sometimes."
McGonagall’s lips pressed into a thin line. "I see." She stood silently and walked to her desk, retrieving a quill and parchment.
“I think it’s best if we get another opinion on this,” she said, dipping the quill into ink. “I’m going to send for Professor Snape.”
Ella’s stomach dropped. A flicker of panic lit in her chest. Professor Snape was brilliant, yes—but also one of the most intimidating people at Hogwarts. The idea of him analyzing her dreams and strange hair growth made her want to shrink into the chair.
Still, she forced herself to nod. “Okay.” McGonagall folded the parchment neatly and sent it off with a small charm.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. It opened with a quiet creak, and in stepped Professor Snape, his eyes swept the room before settling on Ella.
“You wanted to see me, Minerva?” he asked, his voice low and smooth as ever. “Yes, Severus," gesturing to the chair beside Ella. “This is regarding a student matter. Ella has been experiencing some rather… unusual rapid hair growth and recurring nightmares. I was hoping you might be able to offer some insight.”
Snape turned his head slightly, studying Ella with narrowed eyes as he moved toward the seat. “Of course,” he said curtly, “Tell me everything.”
Ella swallowed, her fingers tightening around the hem of her robes, she began to recount the details of her nightmare once more her voice trembled, and the chill that always seemed to accompany the memory crept back into her bones.
Professor McGonagall must have noticed. With a quick flick of her wand, the fireplace behind them roared to life, flames crackling warmly. The warmth spread through the office, and Ella felt her muscles slowly begin to relax.
“Thank you,” she said softly, casting a grateful glance toward McGonagall.
Snape nodded slightly, his gaze never leaving her. Then, wordlessly, he raised his wand and pointed it at her hair, murmuring a quiet incantation.
A soft, silvery glow wrapped around the long strands, sending a gentle tingle across her scalp. Moments later, Snape lowered his wand with a contemplative frown.
“There’s nothing I can detect,” he said at last, his tone clipped. “No lingering magic. No potion residue. Whatever this is—it isn’t something external.”
Ella felt her stomach sink. She had hoped for a simple answer—a charm gone wrong, a spell accidentally cast. But instead, she was left with more questions than before.
“I know this must be confusing for you,” Professor McGonagall said gently. “But the important thing is, you are not in any danger. At least, not that we can see. It’s possible that this could be linked to your return from the Muggle world. Sometimes, when a witch or wizard is away from the magical world for too long, their magic can go dormant. And when it reawakens…”
“It doesn’t always do so quietly,” Snape finished, folding his arms.
Ella nodded slowly, processing their words. Ella pondered the explanation, turning it over in her mind. It did make sense—she had grown up in the Muggle world, completely unaware of the magic that had been part of her all along.
Even now at Hogwarts, there were still moments where she felt like an outsider, pieces of her life that hadn’t quite aligned with the rest. Maybe this… whatever it was… was just another lingering effect of that separation.
Professor McGonagall smiled gently, “No, there’s no need for that,” she said. “I believe this is simply a sign of your magic—strong, and perhaps still settling. Try not to worry too much. Go on to your classes,” she added with a nod toward the door. “And try not to let this distract you from your studies.”
Ella stood, her shoulders a little straighter than before. “Yes, Professor,” she said. As she stepped out of the office and into the corridor, “It’s just hair,” she murmured under her breath, brushing a strand behind her ear. “It’s not the end of the world.”
Rounding the corner, she nearly collided with Theo, who had clearly been waiting for her. "Well?" he asked, falling into step beside her. "Are you dying? Cursed? Secretly a were-hair?"
Ella rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress a small smile. "Apparently I'm just... having a late magic reaction."
Theo's eyebrows shot up. "That's all McGonagall said?" Ella just nodded as they went to their classes.
“Do you really think it’s just a nightmare?” Professor Snape asked, his tone sharp with skepticism. His dark eyes remained fixed on the closed door Ella had just passed through. “It seems a bit too… vivid for that.”
Professor McGonagall didn't answer right away. She folded her arms, her expression tight with unease. “You may be right,” she said finally, her voice low. “It’s certainly possible that it’s something more than a bad dream.”
“I don’t want to jump to conclusions,” Snape muttered, stepping toward the door. “But if this is more than it seems, we need to be prepared for whatever it might become.”
“I’ll speak with the Headmaster,” McGonagall said quietly.
Snape gave a small nod. “I’ll keep an eye on her. If anything else out of the ordinary happens…” His voice trailed off, with a last glance toward McGonagall, he left the office.
Snape’s thoughts kept circling back to Ella’s words. The two blonde figures on the floor. The shadows. The cold. It wasn’t just the imagery—it was the feeling behind it. There was weight in her voice, like an echo from a place she couldn’t see.
He had tried Legilimency on her briefly, silently—just a flicker of effort while she was speaking—but he had been met again with nothing but a wall. He sat down behind his desk, quill in hand, parchment untouched. No matter how he tried to push it aside, the feeling lingered. Something was off. And he was going to find out what it was.
After Theo walked Ella to her class and headed to his own, she took a deep breath and stepped inside. Ella kept her head down as she took her seat, the whispers following her like a shadow. She could feel the weight of their gazes, she could practically feel the questions buzzing in their minds.
Nancy turned in her seat, offering a small, apologetic smile. Ella returned it weakly before burying herself in her notes, her quill scratching against the parchment with more force than necessary.
Professor Binns droned on about the Goblin Rebellion, his ghostly voice barely cutting through the murmurs. The whispers didn’t stop. The stares didn't either. It was like sitting under a magnifying glass.
Ella forced herself to focus, but the murmuring continued, her grip on her quill tightened. “Would you all just stop staring at me?” Her voice was louder than she intended.
The room snapped into silence. Professor Binns paused mid-lecture, drifting slightly toward her.
“Miss Ella,” he said slowly. “Is there something you would like to share with the class?”
Ella hesitated, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. “I just…” Her voice trembled slightly. “I’d rather not have everyone staring at me like that. Please.”
A tense beat passed.
Then, to her surprise, Professor Binns gave a small nod. “Quite understandable,” he said, addressing the room. “Let us all remember to treat our classmates with dignity and respect. Curiosity is natural—but disrespect is a choice.”
Ella exhaled slowly, grateful. She gave a small nod of thanks, and Professor Binns resumed his lecture, his voice slipping back into the rhythm of history.
Though she could still feel lingering glances, they were more cautious now. The room slowly returned to normal—at least, as normal as it could be.
After class ended, Nancy rushed over to Ella’s side, concern etched on her face.
“Ella, what happened?” she asked, her eyes wide with worry.
Ella gave her a small, appreciative smile. As they walked together down the corridor, Ella recounted the events from earlier.
“Wow,” Nancy breathed, eyes even wider now. “So the professors think it might actually be your magic? Like, not just some freak accident?”
Ella nodded slowly. “That’s what they’re leaning toward.”
Nancy nudged her gently. “It’s definitely not something you hear about every day, but hey—at least it’s not permanent… right?”
“We’ll find out tomorrow,” Ella muttered. Then, her expression shifted. “Do you happen to have an extra hair tie? This is… a lot.”
Nancy grinned and began rummaging through her bag. “I might. Hold on… ah got it!” She pulled out a spare tie and handed it over.
“Thank you,” Ella said gratefully, quickly tying her hair up. The thick, newly grown strands fell in waves down her back, still unfamiliar. “I can’t believe how long it is,” she murmured, touching the ends.
Nancy tilted her head, taking in the sight. “It’s definitely a change—but honestly? You look like a princess with it,” she said, her tone playful.
Ella rolled her eyes but smiled. “I guess I’ll just have to get used to it. As long as it stops at this length, I think I’ll survive.”
“Maybe it will,” Nancy said, looping her arm through Ella’s. “But for now, let’s just enjoy your magical makeover.”
Ella and Nancy went about their day as usual. But even as Ella smiled and nodded along during conversations, she couldn’t but be self-consciousness her fingers kept reaching up, twirling through the long, unfamiliar strands, as if trying to convince herself that it wasn’t just some dream.
It didn’t feel real—but it was. The way it brushed against her arms when she moved. The way it caught on her quill as she leaned forward to write. The way people still stared.
She tried to focus during her classes, but her mind wandered constantly, she caught herself staring at the window’s reflection more than once, hoping each time that it had gone back to normal.
By the time the last bell rang, Ella’s chest felt tight. The longer it lasted, the more it began to feel permanent.
She didn’t wait for Nancy after class. The moment the professor dismissed them, she bolted, her bag slung hastily over one shoulder, head low. Her shoes echoed against the stone floors as she hurried down the corridor, ignoring the voices behind her.
She needed space. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one would be looking at her.
Ella walked quickly down the corridor, her thoughts fixed on one goal—reaching the dungeons without attracting any more attention. As she turned a corner, she nearly bumped with two figures.
“Well, if it isn’t our favorite Slytherin,” George Weasley said with a smirk, crossing his arms.
Fred leaned in slightly, eyebrows raised. “Ella, is that you? What happened to your hair?”
Ella let out a small sigh, already feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “It’s… a long story,” she muttered, fingers instinctively tugging at a lock of her now long hair. “I honestly don’t really know what happened.”
George stepped closer, eyeing her hair as if it were some rare magical artifact. “How long has it been like this?”
“This morning,” Ella replied, trying to sound casual. “I just woke up, and it was… like this.”
Fred blinked. “That’s wild. Seriously.”
“You look amazing,” George said, still staring with a mix of admiration and disbelief. “Your hair is—well, it’s kind of cool.”
“I have to agree,” Fred added. Ella flushed, “Thanks,” she said quietly. “But it’s not permanent. I’m pretty sure it’ll go back to normal soon. Hopefully.”
“But until then,” George grinned, “you’ll just have to enjoy the look, princess.”
Ella couldn’t help but smile. “Do princesses always have long hair?”
“Only the dramatic ones,” Fred said, bowing low.
George joined in with a half-mocking curtsey. “Your Highness.”
Ella laughed, “You two are ridiculous.” “Ridiculously charming,” George said.
“Ridiculously humble,” Fred added.
“What are you two troublemakers up to?” came a cackling voice from above.
Peeves swooped down from the ceiling, grinning ear to ear. “And what’s with the fancy-haired firstie?”
George looked up, unfazed. “Nothing to worry about, Peeves. Just talking to a friend.”
“A friend, eh?” Peeves said, twisting in mid-air and floating lazily around them. “And who is your friend?”
Then he saw her—Ella, standing there with her long hair flowing down her back. His jaw dropped in dramatic disbelief.
“Marlins beard!” Peeves whooped. “You two are friends with a little snake! I never thought I’d see the day. A Slytherin and a pair of Weasleys! Scandalous! What’s next? Potter and Malfoy holding hands?”
Ella rolled her eyes, but George clutched his chest in mock horror. "You take that back, Peeves! Some things are too terrifying to joke about!"
He flew around Ella now. “And just look at you,” he said, eyes wide as saucers. “What’s with the hair, eh? Someone cast a glamor? Or is this a new Slytherin fashion? Should I tell the Bloody Baron to grow his out too?”
Ella blinked. “I didn’t do anything,” she said with a small smile. “It just… happened.”
“Just happened?” Peeves echoed. “little snake! Hair doesn’t just grow overnight!”
“I’m just as confused as you are,” Ella replied, folding her arms. “I woke up like this.”
Peeves narrowed his eyes, hovering nose-to-nose with her. “Hmmmm…”
Then, with a mischievous grin, he reached out and dramatically swished a lock of her hair between his fingers. “Well, it’s very princess-y. You’re missing only a tiara and a tragic backstory.”
“I’ve got enough story for now,” Ella said dryly.
With an exaggerated sigh, Peeves twirled in the air again. “Boring! No fun at all. I wanted a scandal, not a mystery.” He gave her one last curious glance, then vanished through a wall, giggling to himself.
Ella let out a breath. “I should get going,” she said. “I’d rather not run into more... well, that.”
“We’ll let you go,” George said with mock solemnity, “but only because we’re such kind, thoughtful gentlemen.”
“Sure,” Ella smirked, walking away. “That must be it.”
"Now run along, princess, before someone spots you socializing with the enemy." He winked. "We’ll save you a seat at our next prank-planning session."
Ella laughed, waving as she turned toward the dungeons.
As she stepped into the Slytherin common room, a wave of relief washed over her. She sank into one of the soft leather sofas, letting out a long sigh as her body melted into the cushions. The only sound in the room was the gentle crackle of the fire—no whispers, no questions, no stares. Just quiet.
Ella closed her eyes, letting the tension drain from her shoulders. The day had been exhausting—emotionally more than anything. The peaceful silence was broken by the sound of the door creaking open.
She looked up and saw them—Draco, Theo, Lorenzo, and Matthew—each carrying a plate of food in their hands.
Draco was the first to speak, “We noticed you weren’t at dinner.”
“So we brought dinner to you,” Theo added, flashing a small, reassuring smile.
Ella blinked, surprised. “That’s really kind of you… but you didn’t have to.”
“We know,” Lorenzo said with a shrug. “But we wanted to.”
Matthew set the food down on the low table in front of her. “You’ve been off today. We figured you might need the company. Or, a sandwich.”
“No one should have to eat alone,” Draco said as he sat beside her, his knee brushing against hers.
Ella looked at each of them—Lorenzo leaning against the wall with his usual quiet presence, Matthew hovering nearby, Theo lounging in a chair opposite—and felt something twist in her chest. Gratitude, mostly. And something warm.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “All of you. I just needed a bit of time alone.”
Ella took a deep breath, then started to speak. Slowly, she told them everything. How Snape, examined her hair, how it wasn’t a potion or a spell. How even he didn’t quite understand what was happening.
The boys listened in silence, no interruptions, no jokes, just quiet support.
When she finished, there was a beat of stillness.
Then Draco spoke, his tone steady. “Magic does strange things sometimes.”
“Do you think Snape’ll figure it out?” Lorenzo asked, his voice low but full of concern.
“I hope so,” Ella said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Draco nudged the plate closer to her. “You should eat.”
And she did. The sandwiches were simple, and the fruit was slightly brown from, but it tasted like the best meal she’d had. Maybe because of how it was brought to her. Or who brought it.
As she ate, the boys talked around her, filling the space with warmth. Theo teased Matthew about his Transfiguration disaster, and Matthew shared a sarcastic impression of snape that had her snorting into her drink.
After a while, she leaned back into the cushions with a soft sigh. “That was exactly what I needed,” she said, a genuine smile spreading across her face. “Thank you so much.”
“Anytime,” Draco replied, his voice low and steady. Her smile lingered as she looked at each of them, heart swelling with gratitude. Even though the mystery of her hair remained unsolved, something in her chest felt lighter. Safer.
“Goodnight, you guys,” she said, getting to her feet and giving each of them a quick hug.
“Sleep well, Ella,” Draco said, his hand brushing against hers for just a moment longer than the others.
“Sweet dreams,” Matthew added, stifling a yawn.
“May your pillows be soft and your blankets warm,” Theo muttered, eyes already half-lidded with sleep.
“And may you wake up feeling refreshed and ready for the day,” Lorenzo said with a calm smile, returning her hug before stretching.
With soft goodnights and tired smiles, they each slipped off to their dormitories, she made her way to the girls’ dorm and changed into her pj, pulling the curtains around her bed tightly shut. But no matter how she fluffed her pillows or adjusted her blankets, she couldn’t quite settle.
Her thoughts kept swirling around in her head, unable to settle. What would happen tomorrow? Would her hair return to normal? Or would something even more unexpected happen?
The possibilities seemed endless, and her mind kept racing. Eventually, Ella's tired body gave in to the pull of sleep, and she drifted off into a deep slumber. She dreamed of colorful strands of hair, of secret passageways and hidden rooms. Of laughter and friendship and magical adventures.
But her dream shifted without warning—one moment, she was chasing laughter through sunlit corridors, the next, she was back in that suffocating darkness. She tried to run. She always tried. But no matter how fast she moved, she never escaped it.
Ella bolted upright in bed, her skin clammy with sweat. Her heart pounded, her breath ragged. She blinked, trying to calm herself. The curtains around her bed were still drawn, she let out a long, shaky sigh and reached up instinctively—her fingers threading through her hair.
Still long.
Still not her.
She sat there for a moment, her shoulders slumping. “Of course,” she whispered to no one, brushing the strands back. It pooled around her.
She pushed the covers aside and swung her legs over the side of the bed, she exhaled, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes.
Today would be another day of whispers, of stares, of professors watching her like she was a puzzle to solve. A day of pretending she wasn’t terrified of what her own magic might do next.
But she wasn’t alone. The thought steadied her. Whatever today brought, she would face it.
Notes:
AND THAT'S A WRAP, YOU MAGICAL WEIRDOS!
So… how do we feel about Snape? This chapter gave him his first little POV moment. But don’t worry, there’s more to come. Just wait till the future chapters… let’s just say, you’ll be seeing a lot more of his layers.We’re not even done with first year and I’m already close to 100k words what do you mean???? This fic is going to be a very lonnnnnnng one. But nope, I can’t write less. There’s just so much in my brain that I want you to see, with your own mind eyes. (Yes, that makes sense. No, I won’t explain it.)
Also, someone please teach me how to add memes here.
THIS CHAPTER RANDOM CHAPTER QUESTION:
Do you prefer short hair or long hair?
For me short all the way. I’m lazy, okay? Hair care takes so much time and energy and I just can’t. BUT… if I were a witch? Oh, I’d totally rock long, magical hair. No split ends, no washing stress, just a potion and Rapunzel who?
What about you? Team Short or Team Long.With love, chaos, and and a questionable amount of daydreaming.
– [Elaf Mohammed/Buttercow]
Chapter 9
Notes:
Hello, lovely weirdos, Potterheads and daydreamers! 🧙🏽♀️
CHAPTER 9 IS HERE!!! (…finally.)
"Peering from the door slowly…
Okay, look—I know I’m late. But in my defense:
-Chapter 41 possessed me. After being stuck forever, the angst finally flowed—only to then slam directly into editing this chapter, which is pure happiness. Emotional whiplash is real.
-My phone died a tragic death. Cue the dramatic quest to find someone who could fix it, was way more dramatic than it needed to be.
-Mom’s dental adventures. Priorities, right?Life happens, okay?
so i think i would for real give up on naming chapeters "unlss the chapter dcided to have a name own it self."Hope you like this chapter.🌹
Enjoy! (Or yell at me. Both are valid.)"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“You know,” Nancy said, eyeing Ella's still-long hair with a teasing grin, “I'm starting to think this might not be a temporary thing. Maybe you're destined to have princess hair forever. All we need now is a tiara.”
Ella snorted, flipping a strand over her shoulder with dramatic flair. “Well, if I am going to be a princess, I might as well enjoy it,” she said, laughing.
Nancy leaned, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You’d totally be the kind of princess who always gets into trouble,” she said. “The one who breaks at least three rules before breakfast and somehow still gets away with it.…”
“That sounds just like me,” Ella said, grinning proudly. “And what about you?” she asked, “What kind of princess would you be?”
Nancy tapped her chin thoughtfully, her lips curling into a dreamy smile. “Hmm... I think I'd be the kind of princess who loves to read and learn about the world,” she said. “The one who travels to faraway kingdoms, attends fancy royal parties, and throws the most extravagant ones in the castle.”
Ella laughed, her eyes lighting up. “You’d be the most fun, party princess,” she said, “People would write songs about your dances and lavish parties.”
They both dissolved into laughter.
“By the way, Ella, thanks for the candies,” Nancy said with a smile.
Ella returned the smile, then hesitated. “Nancy, I actually wanted to ask you something.”
“You can ask me anything. What's on your mind?”
“Well, I was wondering...” Ella’s voice grew quieter, more uncertain. “Why did you stop hanging out with me like before?”
She paused before continuing, “I just miss how things used to be. I miss spending time with you.”
Nancy's expression softened, and she leaned in to give Ella a warm hug.
“I’ll be honest with you,” Nancy said gently. “I do feel a little bit intimidated by the boys sometimes.” Ella blinked, “I know they’re friendly with you,” Nancy continued, her tone quieter now. “But it’s not the same with me. I don’t know, maybe they just don’t see me as someone they can joke with or trust like they do with you. It’s been hard not to feel left out.”
Ella said quietly, “Oh, Nancy… I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to feel like that. I wish you’d told me sooner.”
Nancy gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Just because we haven’t hung out as much doesn’t mean we’re not friends,” she said, “We’re in the same year, silly. We still have loads of classes together. Even if it’s not like before, but we can make it.”
Ella nodded, a hopeful smile on her face. “You’re right.”
Nancy returned her smile. “We could even plan something,” Ella said, her eyes lighting up. “Like little things. Study sessions… walks around the castle…”
Nancy grinned. “And we could invite Katie and Megan too.”
“That would be amazing.” Ella said, her heart feeling lighter.
“I’m really glad we talked,” Nancy said.
“Me too,” Ella said. “I know things have been a bit off lately, but I want you to know I’m always here for you. No matter what.” Nancy nodded, her eyes warm. “Same here.”
“Oh my god, we’re going to be late for breakfast!” Nancy exclaimed, “You better get ready fast!”
Ella smiled and said “Race you there!” The two girls dashed out of the room, giggling as they sprinted down the corridor. They turnd around a corner, running throw a very irritated Peeves.
“Oi! Watch where you’re—” Peeves began, but they were already past him, they burst into the Great Hall just as the last platters of scrambled eggs were being passed around.
“Phew, we made it just in time,” Ella said, slightly out of breath as she slid into her seat at the Slytherin table.
“That was a close one,” Draco said, shooting her a grin. “I thought you might have been having too much fun sleeping in princess.”
Ella laughed, shaking her head. “So I guess everyone now is calling me princess.”
“Princess Ella,” Theo said, bowing dramatically. “It's an honor to be in your presence.”
“That's right,” Lorenzo said, joining in the fun. “We must all bow to her majesty.” Matthew took a deep, exaggerated bow. “Forgive us, Princess Ella,” he said, his voice full of mock-seriousness. “We meant no offense.”
Ella couldn't help but laugh at them. “You are ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head. “But I appreciate the gesture.”
“You're most welcome, Princess,” Draco said, as the group continued to joke around. As the group continued to joke around, Ella couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging.
Ella rolled her eyes as the boys continued teasing her, but her cheeks warmed with amusement. Theo even went so far as to drape a napkin over his arm like a royal butler, presenting her with a goblet of pumpkin juice.
“Your highness,” he sang, his smirk betraying his serious tone.
“Oh please,” Ella said, grabbing the goblet with a grin. “If I were royalty, my first order would be banning you all from ever bowing again.”
“Too late,” Theo said, sitting again, “The nick name stuck now. By dinner, the whole house will be calling you ‘Princess.’”
“Wonderful,” Ella deadpanned, though her eyes sparkled.
As the meal progressed, Ella noticed that the usual outcasting between her and the other Slytherins was getting from them is less. A few curious glances came her way, but the whispers felt less harsh, the stares less judging.
Maybe it was because the boys were around her, the way they talked and joked with her, made her more acceptable, or maybe they were simply moving on from judging her.
Just as she reached for a piece of toast, she felt someone’s gaze on her. Slowly, she turned her head toward the staff table. His expression wasn’t angry, but it was…Calculating. Not the usual scowl he wore when someone talked too loudly or spilled pumpkin juice.
Their eyes locked for a split second, and Ella felt a chill run through her. Then, almost casually, Snape looked away.
Draco, noticing her, followed her line of sight. “Uh oh,” he muttered, “Looks like someone's caught the Bat of the Dungeon's attention.”
Ella forced a smile, but her fingers twisted in her long hair without thinking. “Don't worry about it,” Matthew said through a mouthful of toast. “He stares at everyone.”
“Just ignore him,” Lorenzo said, nudging her shoulder lightly. “He probably just wanted to say good morning and forgot how.”
The others chuckled, but Ella couldn't quite shake the feeling, still, as the boys launched into a debate about Quidditch tactics - with Theo dramatically reenacting using a sausage as a Snitch - she let herself be drawn back into their circle.
The day flew by in a whirlwind of classes and studying. Ella spent most of her time with Nancy, but she also enjoyed her time in class with the other students.
The library was quiet, the afternoon sunlight filtering through the tall windows as Ella and Hermione bent over their books. The scratching of quills and the occasional rustle of parchment were the only sounds between them.
As they worked on their assignments, Ella glanced up from her Potions essay to see the other girl studying her with genuine curiosity.
“Your hair,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “It really does suit you.”
“Thank you,” she said, “It was a bit of a shock, but I'm starting to like it.”
Hermione nodded, a smile on her face, “I think it would be fun to wake up with hair like that. Something different and unexpected, you know?”
“It would definitely be a change,” Ella said, smiling, “But I don’t think I can imagine you with anything but your brown hair. I really love it, I wish if I had a brown hair.”
Hermione’s smile was genuine. “That might be the nicest thing a Slytherin’s ever said to me.”
“Don’t tell Draco,” Ella whispered, mock-serious. “He’d cancel my house membership.”
They dissolved into quiet giggles, earning a sharp “Shh!” from Madam Pince across the room.
She was glad to have a friend like Hermione, though she didn't liked Harry and Ron, but it was vice versa for Hermione and the Slytherin boys.
Two weeks had come and gone, and Ella’s hair remained stubbornly, defiantly long.
She had tried everything: charms, potions, even Madam Pomfrey had given her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and said, “Give it time, dear.”
At first, it had felt strange, like she was walking around in someone else’s hair.
Ella sighed, running her fingers through her hair, she caught glimpses of herself in the mirror and—though she’d never admit it out loud—she didn’t entirely hate it, she loved it.
“Princess,” they’d started calling her, half-teasing, half in awe. She wasn’t just “Ella” anymore. She was “Princess Ella,” as Theo dramatically called her, or “Her Majesty,” as Lorenzo would say with a grin, or even “Sleeping Beauty” when Matthew caught her dozing off in the sofa.
One afternoon, as she stared at her reflection, he let out a soft sigh. It wasn't frustration anymore.
Maybe it wouldn’t go back. Maybe this was just a part of her now.
Even with the new hair, she hadn’t really changed, she still laughed too loudly with Nancy, still got into arguments with Theo over ridiculous things like who made the better tea, still trained harder than she probably should, still got flustered when Draco looked at her too long, and still reached for comfort form her plushie and the lake water when nightmares crept in.
She liked how they started to call her princess, flicking a strand over her shoulder she thought with a small smile that was something she could live with.
One afternoon in the common room, Draco and Lorenzo cornered Ella with mischievous grins. “What if you just... cut it?” Draco suggested, twirling a strand of her long hair between his fingers.
Ella blinked. “Cut it?”
“Start small,” Lorenzo urged, nudging a pair of silver scissors toward her. “Nothing drastic. Just to see what happens.”
Ella hesitated. She’d grown used to the length, the way it brushed her elbows, the weight of it, the warmth.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “What if I mess it up?”
“You won’t,” Lorenzo reassured her with a grin. “Just one snip. From the back.”
After a long pause, Ella exhaled sharply, gripping the scissors. The boys leaned in slightly, she gathered a tiny section from the back and, after one more breath, snipped.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, the strands began to move. Slowly at first, then faster, weaving themselves back together until her hair was exactly as it had been before.
“Merlin’s beard,” Draco whispered.
Ella stared, mouth slightly open. “Did you see that?”
Lorenzo stepped closer, his brow furrowed in amazement. “It… grew back.”
The three of them exchanged wide-eyed looks, stunned into silence.
Just then, Matthew and Theo entered the common room, “What’s wrong?” Matthew asked, his brow furrowing.
Ella turned toward them, holding up the scissors. “My hair… I cut it. Just a little. And it grew back. Instantly.”
Matthew’s eyes narrowed, as if trying to determine whether she was joking. Theo stepped forward, gaze fixed on Ella’s hair.
“Wait—what? Are you serious?”
“Watch,” Ella said, and before anyone could protest, she snipped another piece. Again, just like before, the strands shimmered faintly and began to regrow to their original length.
“This is insane,” Matthew murmured, eyes wide. “It’s like your hair has a mind of its own.” Draco tilted his head, studying her closely. “Do you think you can control it? Make it shorter? Longer?”
Ella furrowed her brow, thoughtful. “I don’t know. I can try.”
She closed her eyes, focusing hard, picturing her hair growing longer. But when she opened them, nothing had changed. She tried again, willing it to shorten… and again, it remained just as it was.
“It won’t budge,” she said, a hint of frustration in her voice. “It’s like there’s a set point, it just keeps going back to.” Lorenzo let out a low whistle. “Well, Princess, looks like you’re stuck with it.”
“I guess this is just how it is now,” Ella said with a shrug. Theo gave her a sympathetic smile, leaning forward. “You’re taking this way better than I would,” he said. “I’d be losing my mind if my hair suddenly decided to defy all logic.”
Ella couldn’t help but laugh, “Honestly? I think you’d look amazing with waist-length hair. Very dramatic.”“ she teased.
Theo placed a hand on his chest, feigning deep offense. “Excuse you, I look great exactly as I am. No need for magical extensions, thank you very much.”
“Sure you do,” Ella said, rolling her eyes playfully. “Just keep telling yourself that.”
Their laughter filled the air, then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, Matthew reached over and plucked a single strand of Ella’s hair, placing it carefully over his own head.
“There,” he said, striking an exaggerated pose. “Now I have princess hair too.”
The group erupted into laughter, Theo nearly doubling over, Ella bit her lip, trying and failing to maintain a straight face. “Absolutely dashing,” she managed, with suppressed giggles.
“I think I’m ready for my close-up,” Matthew declared, flipping imaginary hair like
Lorenzo reached for a strand as well. He twirled it around his finger before letting it drape across his forehead. “Sorry, Matt, but I think it suits me better,” he said, flashing a grin. “It matches my hair color more.”
Ella laughed even harder, “You’re all ridiculous.” Matthew reached for another strand, but Ella playfully swatted his hand away. “No more!” she said, still laughing. “You’ve had enough princess moments for one day.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon like that—joking, teasing, trading stories until their sides, the common room echoed with their laughter. It was, without a doubt, the perfect last day before Christmas break.
The next morning, Ella woke up earlier than usual. She didn’t want to sleep in. It was the last day she’d see them before the break, and she wanted to make the most of every moment.
She dressed quickly, and made her way to the Great Hall. When she entered the hall, her eyes immediately found them gathered at the Slytherin table, laughing quietly over their breakfast.
Though she smiled and joined in their conversation, there was a bittersweet weight behind her laughter. She was already missing them.
Nancy was the first to leave, heading off with her other friends after a quick, cheerful hug. “Don’t forget to write!” she called over her shoulder.
Then it was the boys’ turn. One by one, she hugged them—Theo, who gave her an extra squeeze and muttered “take care of yourself”
Matthew nearly lifting her off her feet, Lorenzo ruffling her hair like an older brother “We’ll write,” he said softly. “Every day, if you want.”
Ella nodded, trying to smile. “I’ll hold you to that.” Draco, who surprised her by held her a little longer than the rest, his hand brushing through her hair once before letting go. “Don’t do anything reckless without us,” he muttered, and Ella grinned.
“No promises.”
She stood waving until it they were out of sight. She turned and began the walk back toward the castle, the cold air biting at her skin, and the thought of a warm drink tugged at her mind.
Without hesitation, she walked toward the kitchens, Squeaky was already waiting, his large eyes brightening the moment she stepped inside. “Miss Ella!” he squeaked, bouncing on his toes. “Squeaky knew you would come! Cold outside, yes? Hot chocolate is ready!”
Ella smiled as he thrust a steaming mug into her hands. “Thank you, Squeaky. You always know what I need.” She took a seat on one of the low stools as the little house-elf hurried around the kitchen, humming a tune to himself, stirring pots and levitating trays.
Ella watched him work, house-elves had always fascinated her, their boundless energy. Well, most of them, anyway. The one at the orphanage had been... different.
Ella finished her hot chocolate, set the mug down gently and smiled at Squeaky.
“Thank you, Squeaky,” she said, her voice soft. “I feel much better now.”
“Always happy to help, Miss Ella!” Squeaky squeaked, whisking the mug away with a snap of his fingers.
For a moment, Ella hesitated, her fingers tracing the grain of the wooden table. Then, quietly, she asked the question that had been weighing on her. “Squeaky... at the orphanage, the house-elves didn’t like when anyone else cooked or baked.” She swallowed. “Is it the same here?”
Squeaky’s smile didn’t falter. In fact, it grew even warmer. “Oh, Miss Ella,” he said gently, “you are always welcome here. The kitchen is open to you any time, and we would be delighted to have you. If anyone ever gives you trouble about it, you tell Squeaky.”
Ella felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “Thank you, that really means a lot to me.” she said.
He hopped onto the bench beside her, and gently patted her hand “Here at Hogwarts,” he said, “we welcome anyone who comes with kindness in their heart.”
He then added, “In fact...” snapping his fingers, and a wrinkled recipe card fluttered onto the table between them. “How about we start right now? Squeaky has been saving a special gingerbread recipe.”
“Really?” She leaned forward, already imagining the scent “I’d love that.”
“Wonderful!” Squeaky clapped his hands, and at once, bowls and measuring cups were on the table, sack of flour floated midair. “We’ll need music, of course,” he declared, and with another snap, a charmed violin in the corner sprang to life, filling the kitchen with a cheerful carol.
As they began measuring flour and mixing spices, the air filled with cinnamon and laughter. The castle might have felt a little emptier today, but in this little corner of Hogwarts, Ella felt completely at home.
After they finished baking, Ella carefully carried the tray of gingerbread and a warm cup of tea down to the Slytherin common room.
She sat at her usual spot by the fire and curled up with the tray on her lap. Taking a bite of the gingerbread, she smiled to herself. It was still warm, soft, and perfectly sweet, with just enough spice to make it feel like Christmas.
Her gaze wandered over the green and silver decorations, the elegant drapes, the carved stone, the subtle shimmer of the lake just beyond the windows. This place, once so intimidating, now felt like home.
As she leaned back into the cushions, thoughts of her friends floated through her mind, she pictured their reactions to new cookie recipes or surprise cakes when they returned. Maybe she could even bake something special for each of them.
The possibilities danced through her mind, a soft smile on her lips. Her eyes grew heavy as her imagination carried her further: sugar plums, gingerbread houses, soft snowfall outside the windows.
And for the first time in so long, no nightmares. No shadows lurking at the edges of her dreams.
The morning sun streamed through the castle windows, as Ella made her way through the corridors. The castle was quieter now, most students gone for the break, she felt lighter than she had in weeks well-rested, curious, and brimming with energy and there was no bullying.
She wandered through the stone corridors, taking in the details she usually missed in the rush of daily life, the faint whispers of enchanted paintings chatting amongst themselves.
She paused before a particularly animated portrait a young witch with curls and a wizard whose hat kept slipping over his eyes as they were mid-argument.
Ella stifled a laugh, leaning against the wall to watch. The portraits were one of her favorite things about Hogwarts; they were like living history, full of drama and personality.
“Oi, little snake!”
Ella jumped as Peeves materialized above her, dangling upside down grinning from ear to ear. “What are you doing wandering about all alone, eh?” swooping closer until his nose nearly brushed hers.
Ella folded her arms, trying to keep her cool. “Just exploring. Is that such a crime?”
“Crime? No! But dreadfully boring.” He spun in midair, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know what’s not boring? Mischief. And lucky for you, Peeves is feeling generous today. Fancy a bit of fun?”
Ella hesitated. She could practically hear McGonagall’s voice in her head: “That poltergeist is nothing but trouble. But Peeves was chaotic, annoying and oddly amusing.
“What kind of fun?” she asked, unable to hide her curiosity. His grin widened. “Oh-ho! The little snake has teeth!”
He floated in a delighted loop. “How about we give the portraits a new perspective? Turn ‘em all upside down! Imagine their faces!”
Ella glanced at the arguing pair nearby. The witch had just thrown her hands up in exasperation, the thought of her hanging by her ankles mid-rant was too tempting.
“…That’s actually pretty funny,” she admitted, biting back a grin. “But won’t it take forever?”
Peeves scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Please. You’re dealing with an artist.” With a snap of his fingers, a dozen frames along the corridor flipped instantly, their residents shrieking as they tumbled into disarray.
“Hey—what in Merlin’s—?”
“PEEVES!”
Ella clapped a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter as the portraits flailed. The dignified witch from earlier now dangled, face flushed as she shouted, “Put me right this instant!”
“That,” Ella said, “was brilliant.”
“And that’s just the start, little snake! Next, we replace all the quills in the li—”
“Wait, no, that’s—”
But Peeves was already moving down the hall, cackling. Ella hesitated for half a second before sprinting after him.
McGonagall would kill her.
But oh, it would be worth it.
The portrait’s accusing glare burned into Ella, “You’re in on this?” he demanded, pointing an upside down finger toward her. “I should have known, Slytherins are always up to no good!”
Ella opened her mouth to protest, but Peeves’ loud laughter echoed through the hall, cutting her off.”Okay, maybe this was a bad idea. We should probably stop before we get caught—”
But Peeves was already sulking, arms crossed mid-air like a disappointed child. “You're no fun,” he pouted, spinning lazily in a circle. Ella sighed, exasperated. “I just didn’t want to get detention over a few flipped portraits, Peeves.”
“Pffft. Detention is a badge of honor,” he scoffed, floating higher.
He twirled again in midair. “… How about a little parting gift?”
Before Ella could react, Peeves flicked his fingers toward her. A sudden tingle shot through her scalp and then her hair exploded in every direction, Strands stuck out, half of it standing straight up while the rest tangled into knots.
“Peeves!” Ella screamed, frantically patting at her head.
Peeves cackled, spinning in delighted circles. “Oh, that’s brilliant! The princess has gone full puffball!” He blew a raspberry at the still-upside-down portraits before moving down the corridor, his laughter trailing behind him. “Better find a mirror, little snake!”
Ella groaned, trying in vain to smooth her hair. A few passing first-years snickered, quickly ducking their heads when she shot them a glare.
“Ugh… I walked right into that one,” she muttered.
Professor Snape came walking into the corridor, Ella froze as he approached, his dark eyes flickering from her disastrous hair to the upside-down portraits lining the walls.
His expression was as unreadable as ever, for a long moment, he said nothing. Then, with a careless flick of his wand, he muttered, “Finite.”
Instantly, Ella’s hair fell back into place, Snape’s gaze lingered for a moment longer, then, just as silently as he had arrived, he turned on his heel and continued down the corridor.
Ella stood still, blinking. Gratitude bubbled up in her chest, tangled with confusion. Snape wasn’t exactly known for random acts of kindness, especially ones involving no scolding, no sarcastic remarks, not even a raised brow.
She watched his figure disappear around the corner.
“Okay… that was unexpected.”
Ella made her way to the Great Hall for lunch, surprised to spot the Weasley twins lounging casually in the doorway. She hadn’t realized they were staying at Hogwarts over the Christmas break.
“Hey,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t know you were still here.”
“Oh, princess, we’re always here,” Fred said with a grin, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “We’re practically part of the furniture.”
“Yeah, Hogwarts just isn’t Hogwarts without us,” George added, elbowing his brother lightly.
“Well, it’s good to see you,” Ella said, her smile widening.
“How’s your break treating you so far?” George asked, tilting his head. “Not too lonely without your Slytherin entourage?”
“It’s been… okay,” she said, thinking of her baking, her chaotic run-in with Peeves, and the strange moment with Snape. “Actually, kind of eventful.”
Fred raised a brow. “Care to share?”
“What happened?” George leaned in, clearly intrigued.
Ella told them everything—how she baked gingerbread with Squeaky, her brief spree with Peeves, and finally, Snape had silently fixed her hair.
The twins exchanged a wide-eyed look.
“You’re pulling our leg, right?” George said, blinking at her. “Snape? Helpful?”
“No, really,” Ella insisted. “He didn’t say a word. Just waved his wand and fixed it. Then walked off like it was nothing.”
Fred stared at her. “So… you’re telling me Snape did something nice. Without insults. Or glaring. No detention, no sarcastic remark.”
“You’re serious?” George asked, still clearly suspicious. “Because that sounds like something out of a very strange dream.”
“I know,” Ella said, laughing softly. “But I’m not complaining.”
“Well, well,” Fred said, folding his arms. “I suppose even the dungeon bat can have a moment of humanity. Maybe there’s hope for old Snape yet.”
“Let’s eat,” George said. “Before this miracle makes the sky fall.”
The moment Harry and Ron spotted Ella walking between the Weasley twins, their steps faltered. Their expressions quickly darkened with clear loathing, leaving Ella puzzled.
She frowned. What was their problem?
“I don’t understand what the big deal is with you two,” she said bluntly, stopping in her tracks. “Seriously, what’s your issue?”
Ron’s ears turned red. “You’re the issue. You’re not a Gryffindor—you’re a Slytherin,” he spat, as if the word itself left a bad taste in his mouth. “You’re one of them.”
Ella’s jaw tightened. “Oh, brilliant logic. Because I’m a Slytherin, that automatically makes me evil?” She crossed her arms. “I don’t know how Hermione puts up with you idiots.”
Harry’s frown deepened, “You don’t know anything about what we’ve been through with Slytherins!”
“And you don’t know anything about me,” Ella shot back. “But sure, go ahead. Judge everyone based on their House…”
She cut herself off, shaking her head. There was no point. She didn’t wait for a reply. She turned to Fred and George and added, “You two are definitely the best Weasleys,” before walking off.
Fred and George exchanged a look before bursting into laughter. They hadn’t expected the argument but they were clearly impressed.
“She’s sure is a Slytherin,” George said, chuckling.
“I like her more and more every day,” Fred agreed, still grinning.
Ella returned to the kitchens, the warmth of the ovens and the sweet, yeasty scent of baking bread wrapping around her like a hug. Squeaky looked up from his tray, “Miss Ella is back!” he chirped, flour dusting his nose. “More baking today?”
“Always,” Ella said, tying her apron with a practiced twist.
The kitchen wasn’t just a place to cook, the worries of House rivalries, of judgmental glares, of spells that she couldn't do, none of that mattered here. Here, she was just Ella.
Hours passed in a blur as she lost herself in baking, she kneaded dough and chopped ingredients, letting the rhythm of the kitchen soothe her thoughts.
Over the next few days, Ella found herself returning to the kitchens more and more, seeking the quiet comfort they brought her. She would spend long hours baking and cooking. Other times, she simply sat, watching the house-elves work their magic, soaking in the quiet hum of productivity.
The kitchens became her personal oasis.
When she wasn’t in the kitchens, she was hard at work becoming a master of ambidexterity, practicing her spells with both her left and right hands. She discovered that using both hands gave her more control and power, spells she’d once struggled with now flowed effortlessly. Her confidence grew with each successful incantation.
On Christmas Eve as she curled in bed, Lucy purring in the crook of her arm. The dormitory was silent, the other girls gone for the holiday. Outside, snow tapped gently against the windows.
Ella traced the emerald green drapes of her bed, a quiet joy growing in her chest. She had no presents waiting tomorrow, no family to wake her with excited whispers.
She had Hogwarts, the castle was her home now.
She thought about all the wonderful things that had happened to her since she arrived at Hogwarts. She had made new friends, learned new spells, and even gotten into a bit of troubles. She couldn't wait to see what the New Year would bring. With a smile on her face, she drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, Ella practically skipped down the stairs into the Slytherin common room on Christmas morning, the cold stone floor nipping at her bare feet. The room was quiet, but the towering Christmas tree in the corner glowed softly with enchanted lights.
She hadn’t expected anything under that tree for her. Orphans didn’t get Christmas presents, not real ones, anyway. But she couldn’t help glancing at the pile of gifts, just for the fun of pretending.
A single, elegantly wrapped package sat apart from the others, she crept closer, fully expecting it to be for someone else.
But when she read the tag, her jaw dropped.
To Ella.
She blinked, staring at her name in neat, elegant script. Who could have possibly sent her something?
With trembling hands, she knelt and unwrapped the package, soft rustle of parchment and ribbon revealed a set of stunning quills, each one more exquisite than the last. Their shafts were a deep, polished ebony, engraved with coiling serpents so lifelike they seemed to slither in the flickering firelight.
The tips gleamed, sharp and flawless, the kind used by professional scribes or Ministry officials.
She saw the note tucked beneath them.
To Ella,
With best wishes for the new year.
—Professor Snape
She read it twice. Three times. Snape? She stared at the signature, her mind racing. Of all people, she had never imagined him—strict, unreadable, cold—would think of her during the holidays. Let alone take the time to send her a gift.
Ella held the quills close for a moment, her throat tight. It wasn’t about the value, or even the beauty of the gift.
A laugh bubbled up, half-disbelief, half-delight. She traced the engraving on the quill, the snake’s emerald eye glinting up at her.
Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as invisible as she’d thought. Someone had thought of her. Someone had seen her.
In his office, Severus Snape sat in silence, sipping his morning tea. His gaze was fixed on the fire, his expression as unreadable as ever. But the faintest hint of satisfaction crossed his face with a brief smile when a tiny, charmed serpent on his desk shimmered confirming the gift had been opened well.
He took another sip of tea, slower this time, the warmth settled in his chest differently, from something else he refused to name.
The satisfaction that rose in him was quiet. It doesn’t matter, he told himself.
Ella decided to return the kindness that Professor Snape had shown her by baking him some cookies. She hurried to the kitchens, determined to bake the best cookies she could.
She gathered the ingredients, making sure to follow the recipe exactly. She wanted them to be perfect. She was careful to make each cookie look exactly the same, and she was pleased with the result.
Ella stood outside Professor Snape's office, the box of cookies clutched tightly in her hands. The emerald ribbon, matching the one from his gift, flapped slightly as she took a deep breath to steady her nerves.
What if he hates them?
She pushed the thought away and knocked, her pulse pounding in her ears. The door swung open abruptly, his eyes flickered from her face to the carefully wrapped box in her hands.
“To what do I owe this... interruption?” His voice was its usual measured tone, neither welcoming nor dismissive.
Ella's fingers tightened around the box. “I... made you some cookies,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She pushed the package forward slightly. “To thank you. For the gift.”
For a heartbeat, the dungeon seemed to hold its breath. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, though his long fingers accepted the box with unexpected care. “But I appreciate the gesture.”
Relief flooded through Ella. “I hope you like them,” she blurted. “I measured everything exactly, even let them cool properly before..”
She cut herself off, realizing she was rambling, reassured, and acting purely on impulse, Ella suddenly stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug.
Snape went rigid, his entire body freezing as if petrified. “Sorry!” she mumbled, stepping back “I just—thank you. For everything.”
Ella turned to leave, “I will use my new quill for everything!” she called over her shoulder, just as the door began to close.
That moment stayed with Snape long after the door had closed. He stood still, the box of cookies still in his hands. His eyes narrowed slightly in thought. How long had it been since anyone hugged him?
He returned to his desk and sat down slowly, placing the box beside the flickering candlelight. For a long moment, he stared at it in silence. Then, with carefully he untied the green ribbon.
The scent of freshly baked cookies filled the room. He selected one and took a small bite. His expression didn’t change, but his shoulders seemed to ease slightly. They were good. Too good.
He glanced toward the closed door, he wouldn't admit it aloud, not even to himself, but her simple gesture had cut away at the cold edges of his morning.
And for the first time in years, Severus Snape didn’t mind the taste of something sweet.
The final days of Christmas break had crawled by at a snail’s pace for Ella. The castle now felt too quiet without her friends filling its corridors with laughter and chaos. She had spent her time well, baking in the kitchens, practicing spells until her wrists ached, and even organizing her new quills which she had used to write three separate letters just to test their smoothness. But now, standing at the entrance of Hogwarts as carriages rolled up the path, she felt like she might burst from excitement.
On her tiptoes as she craned her neck, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. Then Draco’s platinum blond hair caught the winter sunlight first, followed by Theo, Matthew’s easy grin, and Lorenzo’s calm stride. Ella didn’t think she just ran, she hugged them with enough force to make Theo stumble back.
“Whoa—!” Theo said, laughing, as he steadied both of them of her flying hug. “Merlin’s beard, Ella, did you grow troll strength over break?”
“Missed you too,” she laughed, squeezing tighter before pulling back to beam at them all. “You have no idea how boring it was here without you lot.”
Matthew was already reaching out to ruffle Ella’s hair, Draco chuckled. “Someone’s enthusiastic. What’d you do, spend the whole break bored out of your mind without us?”
“Actually,” Ella said, bouncing on her toes, “I have so much to tell you—”
“Hey, Ella!”
Nancy bounded up the path, her curls bouncing, Ella turned and lit up even more. “Nancy!” she screamed, and threw her arms around her, “I missed you so much!”
“I missed you too!” Ella laughed, squeezing her back. Over Nancy’s shoulder, she caught Draco and Lorenzo exchanging identical looks of irritation.
Nancy pulled back, eyes sparkling. “You will not believe what happened at my cousin’s wedding—”
“Save it for lunch,” Lorenzo interrupted, already directing the group toward the castle. “Before Ella explodes from holding in her stories.”
The Great Hall was alive with chatter as students reunited over food. Ella and her friends claimed their usual spot at the Slytherin table, and before anyone could even take a bite, she launched into her stories.
She told them about Peeves and the upside-down portraits, about Snape’s inexplicable intervention (“He just fixed it and walked away!”), and about the Snape’s gift.
“Wait, Snape gave you a gift?” Theo leaned forward, his fork hovering midair. “Are we talking about the same Snape? Tall, terrifying, hates everyone Snape?”
“He doesn’t hate everyone,” Ella defended, though she had no real evidence for this. “Anyway, I baked him cookies to say thanks, and then..” She hesitated, suddenly aware of how absurd the next part would sound.
“And then?” Matthew prompted, his eyes narrowing.
Ella took a deep breath. “I... kind of hugged him?”
The table erupted.
Draco’s jaw dropped. “You what?”
“It was a quick hug!” Ella said, her face was burning. “I just got overwhelmed and…and did it without thinking!”
“And you’re still alive?” Lorenzo said, sounding genuinely impressed.
Nancy, who had been listening with wide eyes, suddenly burst out laughing. “Ella, you’re officially the bravest person in this school. Including the Gryffindors.”
“I’d pay good money to have seen Snape’s face,” Theo mused, stabbing a potato with relish.
Ella groaned. “He didn’t actually hex me. So that’s something.”
Matthew shook his head, grinning. “Only you, Ella. Only you.”
“I can’t believe this,” Lorenzo muttered. “Snape has a favorite now.”
Theo twirled his wand between his fingers, watching Ella with newfound interest. “I wish I could do what you do, use both hands like that,” he admitted, flexing his left hand. “It’s brilliant, really. Think you could teach me?”
Ella blinked, surprised. “I’ll do my best!” she said, smiling. “It takes practice, but if I can manage it, you definitely can.”
Lorenzo leaned in, his usual cool demeanor giving way to curiosity. “Speaking of brilliant things, can I see that fancy quill Snape gave you?”
Ella reached into her bag and carefully pulled out the quills. Theo let out a low whistle as he took one, tracing the delicate carvings with his fingertips.
“This is proper craftsmanship,” he observed. “Look at the detail on these scales. But does it actually write properly? Or is it just for show?”
“It's a little different, but once you get used to it, it's not too hard.” she said. While Ella was explaining the quill to Theo and Lorenzo, she suddenly noticed that Nancy had disappeared. She looked around but didn't see her anywhere.
“Where did Nancy go?” she asked, a little concerned. Theo raised an eyebrow. “What, like some sort of lost puppy?”
“No,” Ella retorted. “It's just—”
“Maybe she went to see her other friends?” Theo suggested.
Lorenzo nodded. “That's probably it,” he said. “She'll be back soon.”
Draco leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied smirk. “The Manor was absolutely crawling with Ministry officials this Christmas,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Father had to host some dreadfully dull gathering. But Matthew and I found ways to amuse ourselves - there's this particularly passage behind the tapestry in the east wing that leads…”
“To the wine cellar, yes, we know,” Lorenzo interrupted dryly. “You've only mentioned it three times.”
They told Ella about how they had been exploring secret passageways and hidden rooms of Malfoy Manor, the Christmas party they had at the manor, and how they got in trouble because they gathered the other boys who were there, played Quidditch, and ended up getting into fights.
Ella laughed along with them, but when she turned to Theo, she caught the brief shadow that crossed his face at mention of family gatherings, she remembered what he had told her about his uncle. She didn’t want to bring it up.
And she didn’t know anything about Lorenzo’s family—he never talked about them before—so she decided to change the topic.
“So,” she said brightly, “when's your next Quidditch match, Matthew? I still haven't seen you play properly.” Matthew immediately perked up. “First week back! Ravenclaw's got a strong team this year with their new Seeker, but we'll wipe the pitch with them, obviously.”
The conversation flowed easily from there - Quidditch strategies, hilarious Hogwarts rumors, and good-natured bickering about which house really had the best common room.
Sitting cross-legged by the fire, surrounded by laughter, Ella felt like she was truly part of the group. She was so grateful to have found such good friends at Hogwarts. The time passed quickly as they spent the evening playing games and chatting.
Ella yawned as she pushed open the door to her dormitory, she walked toward her bed, a small, velvet box resting atop her pillow.
She paused, blinking. Had that been there earlier?
She picked it up, running her fingers over the smooth surface before lifting the lid, a delicate silver necklace inside, with a small green stone set in the center.
A slip of parchment was tucked beside it. Ella unfolded it with slightly trembling fingers, her heart doing an odd little flip as she read:
We thought you might like this.
It reminded us of your eyes, princess.
No signature. None was needed.
A slow, smile spread across her face as she lifted the necklace, it did match her eyes. How long had they been planning this? And how had they managed to keep it a secret all afternoon?
She couldn’t believe the boys had gotten her a gift, and the note… it was so sweet. Her cheeks flushed at the thought.
She fastened the clasp around her neck, the stone cool against her skin. Princess. The nickname should have made her roll her eyes, but instead, it felt affectionate.
Climbing into bed, she traced the emerald absently, they’d bickered and teased all the time, and yet… they’d noticed the exact shade of her eyes, in this moment, everything felt perfectly, wonderfully right.
The next day, Ella was just about to head out the door when she heard a voice behind her.
“Ella, wait!” Nancy called, rushing to catch up. “Merlin, I overslept, I was up ‘til midnight, you’ll never believe what…” Nancy’s words cut off abruptly as her gaze landed on Ella’s neck. “Oh!”
Before Ella could react, Nancy reached out, her fingers brushing the emerald stone. “Blimey, Ella… this is gorgeous. And looks very expensive.” She tilted her head. “Why’ve I never seen you wear it before?”
Ella touched the necklace self-consciously, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That’s because I didn’t own it until last night.” She paused, then added, “The boys gave it to me as a gift.”
Nancy’s eyebrows shot up. “They got you that?” Her voice held a surprise tune.
Ella felt her cheeks warm. “Yeah,” she said.
“All four of them gave you that necklace as a gift?” Nancy asked, her tone laced with disbelief and just a hint of jealousy. “That’s…” She hesitated, then forced a smile. “Really sweet of them.”
Ella nodded, suddenly a little shy. “They were just being nice.”
Nancy shook her head, crossing her arms. “Nice? Ella, that’s not just nice. That’s…” She gestured vaguely at the necklace. “A statement. You don’t just chip in for something like that unless you must be really special to them.…”
Ella couldn’t help but smile as she opened the door. “I think they’re all pretty special to me too,” she said softly.
Nancy studied her for a long moment, then sighed. “Well. It does suits you.” She reached out, adjusting the chain slightly with a wry smile. “Green’s always been your color.”
As Ella entered the common room, she saw lounging on one of the sofas, laughing and talking. She walked over to them, and before she could say anything, she was pulled into a group hug.
“Princess!” Theo exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her. “I missed you!” Matthew nodded. “Yeah we miss you a lot, when are you going to bake us some cookies?” he said with a grin.
Lorenzo smiled at her. “Morning, Ella. Don’t believe them—they just want cookies,” he teased. “Did you like the necklace?”
Draco’s eyes met hers, and a soft smile spread across his face.
Ella smiled back and said, “I just wanted to say thank you, guys—for the necklace. I really love it.”
Matthew and Theo leaned in to admire it again, and Draco said, “You’re welcome, princess. We’re glad you like it.”
Theo said. “Knew it’d suit you. Matches your eyes and all that.”
Nancy, who had been lingering nearby, suddenly linked arms with Ella, and said. “It’s quite the fancy gift, isn’t it?”
Lorenzo smirked. “Of course. What did you expect?”
Draco straightened his cuffs, feigning nonchalance. “We don’t do anything less.”
Matthew nodded slowly. “Aunt Cissy would never allow subpar gifts. ‘Always something fancy and exquisite,’ she says.”
Theo burst out laughing at that, and Nancy—her grip tightening slightly on Ella’s arm—tugged her toward the door. “Come on, then. If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss breakfast, and I need tea before Binns’ lecture.” she declared, steering Ella away.
Draco and Lorenzo exchanged knowing looks but followed without comment, Theo and Matthew trailing behind, already debating which cookies they wanted most.
“Chocolate chip is classic,” Matthew insisted.
“Chocolate chip is the best,” Theo agreed eagerly.
Ella laughed, letting Nancy drag her along. “Relax, I’ll make it.”
Draco thought for a second. “I’d like anything sweet.” Lorenzo chimed in. “Something with peanut butter sounds good.”
Ella smiled, glancing around at them. “How about this, I’ll make a few different kinds of cookies, so each of you gets something you love and something new.”
The boys nodded in approval.
“Sounds perfect,” Matthew said. “When can we expect the cookies?”
“I’ll start after classes today,” Ella replied.
“That’s awesome,” Theo said. “We’ll be counting the minutes.”
After breakfast, the boys all started heading off to their next classes. But before Draco left, he glanced back at Ella with a soft smile, holding her gaze for a moment. Then he disappeared down the corridor.
The sun was beginning to set as Ella made her way down to the kitchens, she was excited to get started on the cookies.
Pushing open the familiar door, she was immediately enveloped in the warmth of the kitchens. The air was rich with the scent of yeast and caramelizing onions, the rhythmic clatter of copper pots, “Miss Ella!” one of them called out, holding up a wooden spoon. “How nice to see you again!”
“It’s great to be back!” Ella replied with a smile, slipping off her robe and rolling up her sleeves, tying an apron around her waist. “Promised some greedy gentlemen cookies, and you know how they get.”
The elves giggled, Squeaky, who had been kneading dough nearby, wiped his hands and moved over. “What kind of cookies are we baking today, then?”
Ella grinned. “Chocolate chip, peanut butter, and maybe something extra sweet.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Think we can manage a batch of that recipe you showed me last time?”
Squeaky’s eyes twinkled. “For our favorite baker? Of course!”
For the next hour, Ella lost herself in the familiar rhythm of baking, measuring flour, creaming butter and sugar, folding in chunks of chocolate. The elves were around her, offering tips and sneaking tastes of dough when they thought she wasn’t looking.
As the cookies baked, golden and fragrant, Ella perched on a stool, watching the oven’s glow through the glass. the sweet scent filling the room. When they were done, Ella carefully took them out and set the trays on the counter to cool. Golden brown, soft in the middle—perfect.
“You’ve got the touch, Miss Ella,” Squeaky said approvingly, peering at the trays as she pulled them out. “Look at that, perfectly even, not a single one burnt!”
Ella said with a smile. “Thanks to your help.”
“Would you like to package them up for your friends?”he asked.
Ella nodded eagerly. “Yes, please!”
Squeaky led her to a side table where piles of pretty boxes and spools of ribbon were waiting. “No wrong way to do it.”
Ella hesitated, overwhelmed by the choices. For Draco, she chose a black box and tied it with a silver ribbon. It was elegant and sharp, just like him.
For Theo, she picked one with an intricate swirl pattern in black, silver, and green, playful but with style.
Lorenzo’s was a simple white box with a bold green ribbon, clean, bright, and dependable.
And for Matthew, she chose a green box wrapped in soft white ribbon, a comforting, gentle contrast that made her think of him instantly.
She sat down and began decorating. On Draco’s, she drew a small dragon curling around the edge. For Theo, she sketched a broomstick soaring through the sky. Lorenzo’s box got a maze of detailed doodles, clever and orderly. And Matthew’s, she couldn’t help but grin, she filled with little cats peeking from every corner.
Once she was done, Ella stepped back and smiled at the results. They weren’t perfect, but they were thoughtful, and she hoped the boys would feel it.
She heard someone clear their throat behind her. Spinning around, she found Lorenzo leaning against the doorway, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Then, one by one, Draco, Theo, and Matthew strolled into the kitchen.
“Heeeyyy!” Ella exclaimed, crossing her arms dramatically. “You were supposed to wait!”
Matthew’s grin was shameless. “But Ellaaa,” he pleaded, “we’re starving. Just one cookie? Please?”
Theo clasped his hands dramatically. “We’ve been suffering through History of Magic for hours.”
Ella laughed, shaking her head. With a sigh, she grabbed the boxes and handed them out one by one.
The boys looked at their decorated boxes in surprise and delight, holding them like they were treasures. For a moment, the kitchen was filled with the sound of crinkling paper and delighted exclamations.
“Merlin, Ella,” Theo groaned around a mouthful of chocolate chip. “These are insane.”
Draco, ever composed, took a measured bite of his cookie—then stole another from Theo’s box.
Lorenzo merely arched a brow. “You’ve outdone yourself, princess.”
Squeaky placed a glass of milk in front of each of them with a cheerful, “Enjoy!”
Matthew took an enormous bite of his chocolate chip cookie, crumbs tumbling onto the table as he groaned in delight.
Theo, already on his second cookie, licked melted chocolate from his fingers with theatrical relish. “Absolute perfection. If Hogwarts had a Baking O.W.L., you'd score 'Outstanding.'“
Ella ducked her head, her cheeks warming. “Thanks,” she murmured, sipping her milk to hide her smile.
When she glanced up, she found Draco and Lorenzo watching her with identical amused expressions.
“What?” she asked, self-consciously brushing at her face. “Do I have flour on my nose or something?”
Draco chuckled, shaking his head. “No,” he said, uncharacteristically earnest. “We’re just… glad to be here. And these cookies are bloody brilliant.”
Lorenzo nodded in agreement, holding up his half-eaten cookie.
Later, as the last crumbs vanished and the elves shooed them out, Draco would slip the ribbon from his box into his pocket. Theo would insist on keeping the broomstick-doodled lid “for inspiration.” Lorenzo’s maze would remain unsolved—for now. And Matthew, begging Ella to teach him how to draw cats.
In the common room, Ella found Nancy hunched over a pile of books, her quill scratching furiously across parchment.
“Heyy, Nancy,” Ella said, sliding a neatly wrapped box onto the table. Nancy’s eyes lit up as she lifted the lid. “Blimey!” she gasped, staring at the perfectly golden cookies. “How’d you get them so perfect? They look like they belong in a bakery window!”
Ella grinned, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s a secret,” she teased.
Nancy picked up a cookie and took a bite, closing her eyes with a satisfied hum. “These are amazing. I could eat them all day.” Ella laughed. “I could make more for you anytime.”
As Nancy chattered between bites, Ella leaned back in her chair, it was a small thing but it made the evening feel full.
The morning of the Quidditch, Ella practically bounced out of bed, pulling on her Slytherin scarf with extra care before hurrying down to the Great Hall.
The hall was already buzzing with energy. Students from all houses were chatting animatedly about the match. Green and silver clashed with blue and bronze as Slytherins and Ravenclaws exchanged competitive glares across the tables.
Ella spotted Lorenzo already seated and made her way to him. “Morning, Enzo,” she said, helping herself to toast. “How are you feeling about the game?”
Lorenzo smirked, stirring his tea. “I think we’ve got a great shot. What about you? Nervous?”
Ella shook her head. “More excited than anything. I’ve seen how hard you lot have been practicing, it’s like your lives depend on it.”
Lorenzo chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”
Ella turned just as Draco, Theo, and Matthew walked into the Hall, in full Slytherin Quidditch gear. The trio radiated arrogance, Theo spinning his Beater’s bat lazily over one shoulder while Draco adjusted his Seeker’s gloves with deliberate nonchalance.
Merlin’s pants,” Ella muttered, shaking her head. Looking confident, are we?”
Draco turned, giving her a cocky grin. “Naturally. We’re the greatest Quidditch team Hogwarts has ever seen.” flicking an invisible speck of dust off his sleeve. “Ravenclaw’s Seeker couldn’t catch a Snitch if it flew in front of his eyes.”
“Don’t get too cocky,” Lorenzo chimed in. “There’s always a chance Ravenclaw could surprise us.”
Theo rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a downer, Enzo. We’re going to crush them.”
Ella grinned. “Just remember to have fun, okay?”
Matthew said. “We will. And we’re bringing home that win for Slytherin.”
As they sat down to eat, they launched into an intense discussion about strategy. Draco leaned in, giving them a pointed look. “And make sure your Bludger doesn’t come near me this time. We’ll have a much better shot if I stay conscious the whole match.”
“That was one time!” Theo protested. Ella laughed, and turned back to Lorenzo. “Why aren’t you playing, by the way? You seem like you’d be great out there.”
Lorenzo let out a short laugh. “Because I like having my bones intact. I’m not the kind who volunteers to get slammed by a Bludger. I prefer to cheer from the sidelines with snacks.”
Ella smiled. “Fair enough. Someone has to cheer them on, right?”
“Exactly,” he said, grinning.
The bell rang then, signaling it was time to head out to the pitch. Ella stood and made her way over to the team. She gave each of them a quick hug. “Good luck,” she said warmly.
Draco grinned. “Thanks, princess. I can’t wait to wipe the smug look off the Ravenclaws’ faces.”
Theo nodded, looking serious. “We’re going to crush them. No one’s stopping us today.”
Matthew smiled at her. “If we win, you owe us another batch of those cookies.”
“Only if you win!” Ella said, though they all knew she’d bake them regardless.
Lorenzo stood, stretching lazily. “Shall we?” he said, offering Ella his arm.
She took it with a grin. “Let’s go.”
As they joined the stream of students heading toward the pitch, the morning sun glinting off the castle walls, Ella couldn’t help the thrill of excitement that ran through her.
Ella and Lorenzo found their seats in the stands, green-and-silver banners, and the Ravenclaws were already trying to out-cheer them from the opposite side.
“There you are!” Nancy called out as she approached, cheeks flushed with excitement, squeezing into the seat next to Lorenzo. “I’m so excited to watch the game. Do you think Ravenclaw has a chance?”
Ella smiled, her voice full of house pride. “I think they have zero chance,” she said confidently. Lorenzo gave a small nod, his tone dry. “Ravenclaw won’t win even if their whole team plays blindfolded.”
Nancy giggled at the joke, clearly missing the lack of warmth behind Lorenzo’s words. She continued chatting, her voice animated as she talked about past matches, favorite players, and how good Ravenclaw’s Seeker supposedly was.
Ella noticed the way Lorenzo sat, shoulders slightly turned away, gaze flicking over the field rather than toward Nancy. He answered her politely, but with clipped words and no real effort to keep the conversation going.
Still, Nancy didn’t seem to notice. She was all smiles, talking as if everything was perfectly natural.
Ella didn’t say anything, but she was thankful that Lorenzo wasn’t being rude, he clearly didn’t enjoy Nancy’s company much.
The game started like a well-rehearsed dance of chaos. Theo and Matthew dominated as Beaters, their bats cracking against Bludgers with terrifying accuracy. One particularly vicious hit sent a Ravenclaw Chaser spiraling away from the Quaffle, earning raucous cheers from the Slytherin stands.
Theo soared through the air, his bat swinging with deadly precision as he sent another Bludger rocketing toward the Ravenclaw Chasers. but then out of nowhere a Bludger came hurtling toward him at alarming speed. Gasps rippled through the stands as it spun closer.
At the last possible second, he twisted mid-air, the Bludger whistling past his ear so close it ruffled his hair. His broom wobbled violently as he nearly toppled sideways, but with a white knuckled grip, he righted himself and shot back into formation as if nothing had happened.
“Merlin!” Ella gasped, clutching the railing. “That was too close!”
“It sure was,” Lorenzo let out a shaky laugh. “Typical Theo quick—really quick.”
He and Matthew moved in perfect sync, their bats cracking against Bludgers in a brutal rhythm. One particularly vicious strike sent a Ravenclaw Beater spiraling away from his broom, his arms windmilling comically before he managed to regain control, but not before Slytherin scored another goal.
“Fifty to twenty!” Lee Jordan's voice echoed across the pitch. “Slytherin pulling ahead, though I'd keep an eye on those Bludgers if I were them!”
Ella jumped to her feet, her emerald scarf whipping in the wind as she cheered. Beside her, Lorenzo was uncharacteristically animated, shouting himself hoarse
Draco, who'd been circling the pitch like a hawk, suddenly shot forward, only for an out of control Bludger spinning violently his way.
“WATCH OUT!” Matthew yelled, but it was too late.
The impact sent Draco flying backwards, his broom spinning away as he fell toward the ground.
“NO!” Ella shouted, leaping to her feet. Beside her, Lorenzo's face went pale. “He's going to crash!”
Matthew leaned hard on his broom, He stretched out his arm, fingers straining and caught Draco's wrist with a grunt of effort.
For one heart-stopping moment, they hung suspended, Draco's legs dangling over empty air as Matthew's broom dipped sideways, dangerously under the extra weight. The crowd gasped as the two boys wobbled, Matthew's arms trembling with the Wight.
Then, with a strong grip, Matthew pulled Draco onto his broom, the pair clinging to each other as they struggled to right themselves.
Ella and Lorenzo both shot to their feet, “Merlin's beard! Did you see that?” Lorenzo shouted, gripping Ella's shoulder.
Ella couldn't speak, her heart hammering against her ribs as she watched.
Draco, pale transferred back to his own broom with a shaky nod to Matthew.
Matthew eyed him warily. “You alright?”
“I’ll be okay,” he muttered. “Just keep those damn Bludgers off me.” High above, the Snitch glimmered teasingly near the stands. Draco's head snapped up and with that, he shot off like a bullet, Ella clutched Lorenzo’s arm, her pulse racing. “They’re mad. Absolutely mad.”
“Blimey,” Nancy whispered, wide-eyed. “He's not even stopping?”
Lorenzo's grin was fierce. “That's a Malfoy.”
The Ravenclaw Keeper was fast, alert, and fiercely determined not to let Slytherin win. he Slytherin Chasers groaned in frustration as yet another Quaffle was batted away, the score remaining agonizingly close.
With a sharp intake of breath, Draco leaned forward, his broom shooting through the air like an arrow. The Ravenclaw Seeker, caught off guard, scrambled to follow, but Draco was already pulling ahead, stretching out his hand, the wind whipping through his hair as he closed the gap inch by inch. Just when it seemed he might fall short, he lunged and caught it.
His fist closed around the Snitch, its wings fluttering wildly against his palm.
Cheers erupted around the stadium. “SLYTHERIN WINS!” Lee Jordan's voice boomed across the pitch.
Ella and Lorenzo leapt up, hugging each other and cheering, until he noticed Theo and Matthew sprinting across the field.
Flying at full speed with no time to slow down, Draco lay crumpled on the grass, his face twisted in pain as he clutched his arm. To the excited crowd, it was a blur many didn’t even notice he hadn’t risen. Only two did: Theo and Matthew.
“Shit,” Lorenzo breathed, he sprinted across the pitch, he dropped to his knees beside Draco and cast a quick diagnostic spell.
Dislocated shoulder. Severe bruising and intense pain.
“Draco,” he said urgently, trying to keep his voice calm, “you're going to be okay. I promise.”
Draco grimaced, barely able to nod, his face pale and drawn. Lorenzo looked to Theo,
“We need to get him to Madam Pomfrey,” Lorenzo said, “Theo, can you—?”
“Got him,” Theo said, he knelt down carefully and helped Draco onto his back, he adjusted his grip and started toward the castle, slow but steady.
By the time they reached the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was already waiting, as if she'd sensed something had gone wrong.
“Here,” she directed, guiding Theo to a bed.
“Diagnostic showed a dislocation,” Lorenzo said, hovering anxiously.
Madam Pomfrey nodded. “Hold him.”
Lorenzo braced Draco's uninjured side as Madam Pomfrey gripped his arm. With a sharp pop, the shoulder slid back into place. Draco cried out, a raw, guttural sound his face draining of color, but the worst was over.
“There,” Madam Pomfrey said, already waving her wand to knit the strained muscles. “You'll be sore, but you'll live. Though next time, Mr. Malfoy, perhaps try not to be so reckless?”
Draco managed a weak smirk. “No promises.”
As the pain potion took effect, his eyelids grew heavy.
Madam Pomfrey turned to Lorenzo, her expression curious, even a touch impressed. “That diagnostic spell was performed remarkably well for someone your age,” she remarked. “Where did you learn it?”
Lorenzo flushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve, er—been reading up on healing spells. Just in case.” He gestured vaguely at his friends. “I thought... well, it might come in handy one day.”
Madam Pomfrey’s stern expression softened. “That’s very responsible of you. If you’re serious about healing, you’re welcome to visit me for lessons. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, young man. Advanced magic requires proper guidance.”
Lorenzo’s face lit up. “Really? That’d be brilliant!”
Outside the infirmary, Ella and Nancy found the boys in the corridor. Matthew leaned against the wall, Theo was stretching his arms behind his head, and Lorenzo, still buzzing from Madam Pomfrey’s offer, was animatedly explaining something with wide gestures.
“How’s Draco?” Ella asked.
“Shoulder’s fixed, sleeping like a baby,” Matthew said.
Nancy let out a long sigh. “That was such a scare.” “It was such a long game.” Ella said. Nancy agreed, yawning. “I’m absolutely exhausted.”
“You’re not the only one,” Matthew said, stretching his arms.
Ella turned to Lorenzo, quirking an eyebrow. “I had no idea you could run that fast. And what was that spell you used?”
“Basic diagnostic charm,” Lorenzo said airily, though his pride was obvious. “Identifies injuries. I’ve been practicing it for a while. I’m still a bit rusty, honestly, and that, my dear,” he added with a mock flourish, “is why I watch the game rather than play it.”
Theo gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Hold on—you mean we’ve been your test subjects all this time?”
“Don’t worry,” Lorenzo said, suppressing a laugh. “I won’t try anything too dangerous on you. I’m not a mad wizard.”
“Very reassuring,” Matthew said dryly. “Thank you so much for your restraint.”
“You’re most welcome,” Lorenzo replied with a wink.
“But what about Ella?” Theo asked with a playful smirk. “Is she going to get to experience some of your Fenomenal healing spell on her?”
Lorenzo rolled his eyes. “Obviously not. She’s royalty.” He shot Ella a teasing look. “Princesses get top-tier care. You lot get whatever’s left in the bargain bin.” Lorenzo went on dramatically, “And besides, how else am I going to become the greatest healer in the wizarding world if I don’t have noble patients willing to suffer for my success?”
Theo chuckled. “Well, I draw the line at letting you experiment on me while I’m asleep.”
“Fair enough,” Lorenzo said with a shrug. “But I make no promises about Matthew.”
“Oi!” Matthew protested, though he was laughing.
As they made their way back to the common room, their laughter echoed through the torchlit corridors. Nancy joined her friends, already launching into a play-by-play of Draco’s Snitch catch.
“Do you think Draco’ll milk this for all it’s worth tomorrow?” Theo mused, stretching his legs.
Matthew snorted. “I give it until breakfast before he starts dramatically clutching his shoulder for sympathy.”
Ella clapped her hands together suddenly, “Let’s head to the kitchens,” her eyes bright. “I’ll bake you all some celebratory cookies!”
“Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse!” Theo said, eyes lighting up.
“What kind?” Matthew asked, already following her out the door.
“Chocolate chip, of course!” Ella said, leading the way. “The most classic of all victory cookies!”
“I’m throwing in a request for peanut butter,” Lorenzo added, turning to Ella with a hopeful grin. “They’re my favorite.”
“Peanut butter cookies coming right up!” she replied cheerfully. “Anything for our soon-to-be top healer.”
The kitchen’s warmth enveloped them as Squeaky greeted them with enthusiastic squeaks.
“Miss Ella! Squeaky hears of great victory!”
“Exactly!” Ella said, already tying an apron around her waist. “We’re in a celebratory mood today.”
Squeaky beamed, clapping his little hands. “Squeaky loves cookies!”
With Squeaky’s help, Ella got to work gathering ingredients and preheating the oven. The others lounged nearby, talking about the game.
Soon, the scent of melting chocolate and roasting peanuts filled the air. When the cookies emerged golden and perfect, Ella neatly placed cookies in a box lined with green parchment. “For our dislocated hero.”
Matthew ruffled her hair. “We’re seriously lucky to have you.” Ella blushed, “It’s nothing. Just want to make sure our best players and future healer, are taken care of.” she laughed, swatting him away.
Draco was sitting up in bed, his eyes narrowed playfully as they entered. “Took you long enough. I thought you’d eaten them all without me.”
“As if we’d forget our sweet-toothed Seeker who won the match,” Ella said, presenting the box with a flourish. “These look amazing,” he said, his tone soft with appreciation. “Thank you, princess.”
Ella gave him a gentle smile. “You’re welcome.”
The group gathered around Draco’s bed, sharing cookies and stories, their laughter filling the room. Eventually, Madam Pomfrey bustled in with a stern look. “Alright, enough excitement for one night. Out, all of you. This is a hospital wing, not a common room!” They scattered like startled pigeons, still laughing as they fled into the corridor.
Ella woke with the next morning her fingers instinctively reaching up to touch her hair. After quickly dressing, she made her way to the hospital wing, eager to check on Draco.
Pushing open the door, she froze mid-step.
Draco sat upright in bed, looking much better than the day before. Beside him sat his parents, elegant and composed as always. All three looked up at her.
The moment Narcissa and Lucius laid eyes on her, they exchanged a look—one of silent recognition and surprise. Ella suddenly felt a little self-conscious. It had been a while since they’d seen her, and with her hair longer and loose, she wasn’t sure if they’d even recognize her.
“Ella?” Narcissa breathed, her cool demeanor melting into genuine surprise. “Is that you?”
Ella managed a small smile. “Yes.”
Narcissa rose and embraced her gently. “Your hair,” she murmured, pulling back to study the golden waves. “It’s stunning. I barely recognized you.”
Lucius remained where he was, but his icy gaze had thawed slightly. “You’ve changed,” he observed, his voice neutral but not unkind.
“How did it grow so long? It looks healthier than half the purebloods at court.” Narcissa said.
Ella hesitated, then launched into the story the sudden change, she went on to explain, telling the story with animated hands and a touch of disbelief still lingering in her tone.
As she spoke, she noticed the silent exchange between Narcissa and Lucius, their eyes communicating something she couldn’t understand.
“Fascinating,” Narcissa murmured when Ella finished. “Magic works in mysterious ways.”
“Speaking of mysteries,” Lucius cut in smoothly, “how is that cat of yours? Lucy, wasn’t it?”
Ella’s face lit up. “She’s wonderful! Loves batting at my hair like it’s her personal toy.”
Ella’s face lit up. “She’s wonderful! Loves batting at my hair like it’s her personal toy.”
Narcissa laughed—a rare, melodic sound. “How delightful. You must bring her to visit us at the Manor someday.”
The invitation hung in the air, weighty and unexpected. Ella blinked. “I—I’d like that.”
A glance at Draco confirmed he was just as surprised, though he hid it behind a smirk.
Narcissa touched her shoulder gently. “It truly suits you. You look amazing, honey.”
Ella’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. “That means a lot. Thank you.”
When the clock chimed, Ella reluctantly excused herself. As she reached the door, Narcissa called after her:
“Have a wonderful day, Ella!”
The warmth in her voice lingered as Ella stepped into the corridor. For the first time in years, she allowed herself to wonder what would it be like, to have a mother’s love like that?
Shaking off the thought, she headed to breakfast, Draco’s quiet “See you later, princess” echoing behind her.
The heavy oak door of the infirmary clicked shut behind them as Lucius and Narcissa stepped into the corridor. The moment they were out of earshot, Narcissa’s composed mask fractured.
Lucius spoke softly, almost to himself. “It’s her, isn’t it? The hair… the way she looks—”
He didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t have to.
Narcissa’s gaze remained fixed on the floor, slowly, she turned to meet her husband’s eyes. There was no denial in her face, only the weight of shared recognition.
Lucius looked away, his jaw tightening. He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t. But there was no denying how much she resembled those delicate features, that unmistakable hair, the presence she carried without knowing.
Not a word more passed between them as they strode toward the castle gates.
Some truths were buried too deep.
Notes:
AND THAT'S A WRAP, YOU MAGICAL WEIRDOS!
So. What are we feeling? Because I’ve been craving cookies and Cinnabon this entire chapter, and despite begging my sister to make them, she LEFT ME TO SUFFER.THIS CHAPTER RANDOM CHAPTER QUESTION:
Would you rather
Be on the Quidditch team
Be a dedicated cheerleaderPersonally? I’m 100% cheerleader—I can’t handle the stress and I’m pathologically bad at losing.
With love, chaos, and and a questionable amount of daydreaming.
– [Elaf Mohammed/Buttercow]
Chapter 10
Notes:
Hello, lovely weirdos, Potterheads and daydreamers! 🧙🏽♀️
CHAPTER 10 IS HERE!!!SO. We just hit 100k words... in only 10 chapters.
Let me repeat that for the people in the back: ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND WORDS. TEN CHAPTERS. and I haven’t even finished writing it yet. Help. There are chapters in this thing that are 100 PAGES LONG. Why? I have to much details and no self control.
But heyyy you’re here for the ride! Buckle up.
P.S. No, I don’t know how this happened either. Yes, I’m having fun way much fun.Hope you like this chapter.🌹
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
For a while, Ella felt like she was living a charmed life. The bullying had decreased, not entirely gone, but dulled, distant, like a storm finally moving on.
She felt confident, stood a little taller now. Smiled a little more freely. Sometimes, when she caught her reflection in the Black Lake’s surface, she barely recognized herself. The girl staring back was beautiful, not just in appearance, but in the way she carried herself, the way she smiled.
She had grown to love her hair, truly love it. No longer just a strange anomaly, it had become part of her. Each day she experimented, soft braids, half-up twists, loose waves that danced in the wind.
But peace, she would soon realize, isn’t always constant.
The nightmares still came.
On the nights when Ella woke up from a nightmare, she’d sit in bed for a while, heart pounding, willing herself to calm down. But sometimes it was too much to be alone. She would often go to the common room to look out the window at the lake, it was calming in a way, but she missed the stars.
And more often than not, she wasn’t alone.
It became a quiet, unspoken truth among their group. Whether by chance or fate, one of the boys always seemed to be there.
They never made a big deal of it. They never asked questions. They just sat with her, let her speak when she wanted, or filled the silence with soft chatter about nonsense.
Lorenzo sipping on something warm, always pretending he wasn’t waiting for her. He’d talk about healing spells, or some obscure bit of wizarding history.
Theo, already sprawled on the sofa, his feet propped up on the table. He’d glance up, take one look at her face, and immediately launch into some ridiculous story.
Draco, sitting by the fire with a chessboard set up, waiting. He never asked about the nightmares. He’d just gesture to the opposite seat and say, "Your move." And somehow, the quiet concentration of the game steadied her.
Matthew already seated by the window, and start talking about some bizarre fact he read, gently pulling her out of her thoughts without making it obvious, about his latest detention or a prank he was planning on Theo.
One night, after she'd confessed in a whisper that she missed the stars most of all, Draco had watched her for a long moment. Then, without a word, he pulled out his wand.
He cast a charm that scattered soft, glowing stars drifting lazily until they settled into familiar patterns, across the ceiling of the common room.
Ella had stared up in wonder. “Where… where did you learn that?”
“My mum,” Draco had said quietly. “She did this to my ceiling when I was little. Said it would help me sleep better. I can teach you if you want.”
They’d sat together for almost an hour, correcting her grip with a patience she hadn’t known he possessed. "Flick it like this…no, lighter. It’s not a Bludger you’re batting away."
Eventually, she learned it, and from that night on, whenever the nightmares came and she couldn't bring herself to leave her bed, the ceiling above her bed was always dotted with tiny, glowing stars her own private constellation.
They became her quiet protectors, each in their own way. She never told them how much it meant to her, they were her knights in not-so-shiny school robes.
The ones who showed up when the shadows grew too long for her and the stars felt too far away.
One of the things Ella cherished most about having the boys around was the way they played with her hair. It had become something of a quiet ritual among them, woven into the everyday fabric of their friendship.
On lazy evenings in the common room, or during quiet afternoons, one of them would invariably reach for her hair whether absentmindedly or with intention and begin to play with it.
Matthew was careful, he would sit behind her on the common room sofa, a silver brush charmed to detangle without pulling clutched in his fingers. He favored intricate braids, weaving emerald ribbons through the strands in patterns.
Theo, on the other hand, treated her hair like an experiment. "What if we tried this?" he’d say, yanking her into a chair before she could protest, his hands already twisting her locks into some wild updo. Half the time, it ended up lopsided, strands escaping. Once, he’d even attempted a "dragon tail" braid (his own invention), “Masterpiece,” he’d declare. “You're welcome.”
Draco’s touch was different. He never styled or braided, instead, he’d sit beside her by the fire, his broad fingers combing gently through the waves as if searching for something.
"It’s calming," he admitted once, when she’d caught him staring absently at the strands wrapped around his fingers. "Like watching the lake at night." He simply liked the feel of it, and Ella didn’t mind. In fact, she loved it.
Lorenzo, had no interest in hairstyling. He’d once attempted to help Theo tie a ribbon and nearly tied her hair to the chair. He was always nearby, stretched out beside her with a textbook or listening intently as she rambled about her day. He was the best listener of the group, offering thoughtful observations and questions that made her reflect on things in new ways. "You’re overthinking the spell," he’d say, or, "That’s not anger, it’s fear. People lash out when they’re scared."
To Ella, these moments weren’t just about hair. It was about trust, about letting someone into her space, close enough to touch her without fear, without walls. It was the way their affection didn’t need to be said out loud.
Even Nancy, though their friendship had shifted. They weren’t as close as they used to be. That was something Ella had noticed gradually, like leaves changing color in autumn. There was no falling-out, no argument, just a quiet drift.
Nancy had started spending more time with others, her bright humor and confidence making her an easy favorite among students. She was becoming more popular, effortlessly sliding into the social circles Ella used to hover around the edges of.
But in class, Nancy was still Nancy. They still sat together in most classes, and they still passed notes during boring ones. They shared inside jokes, exchanged knowing glances when someone said something ridiculous, and teamed up for practicals with the same seamless rhythm they always had.
Even if they didn’t laugh together in the corridors anymore. Even if Nancy didn’t sit with her in the common room at night.
Ella didn’t resent her for it. In fact, she was happy Nancy was finding her own space, her own voice. It wasn’t the picture-perfect version of friendship she might’ve imagined once, but it was real. And in its quiet, ever-evolving way, it was enough.
Ella had grown used to change. But for the first time, she wasn’t afraid of it.
On the morning of her birthday, there had been no big decorations across the common room, just quiet smiles and mysterious looks from the boys all morning. She could feel it in the air though, Something was planned.
By late afternoon, they led her outside with vague excuses and hidden grins, their hands behind their backs as they insisted she close her eyes.
“No peeking,” Theo warned.
“Seriously, Ella Celestin,” Matthew added, calling her by her full name in that teasing way he knew always made her grin. “If you ruin the surprise, we revoke birthday privileges.”
“That's not a thing,” she muttered, laughing. But she obeyed anyway, letting them guide her.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself standing at the edge of the Black Lake. The sun was low in the sky, casting golden ripples across the surface of the water and a picnic blanket was spread out just a few feet from the shore. A few candles flickered softly, protected in glass jars, and there were bundles of flowers wild, imperfect, and lovely gathered in a vase that Theo had clearly conjured last minute.
It was simple. It was perfect for her.
Ella blinked a few times, overwhelmed by how peaceful it all felt. “You…”
“Don’t get all misty on us yet,” Draco said, but he was smirking, “We’re not done.”
Matthew stepped forward with a box in his hands. “Alright,” he said with a breath. “Prepare yourself.”
He opened the box with theatrical flair, revealing a cake, lopsided, a bit too brown on one side, the icing uneven and slightly runny.
Ella gasped. “Did you… Did you make this?”
“We did,” Theo announced proudly, puffing out his chest.
“You baked me a cake?”
“Kind of baked. Kind of charmed into not being raw,” Matthew admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But yeah. We tried.”
“It took three ruined ones before we managed this,” Lorenzo added with a shrug.
Ella stared at the crooked cake. It was beautiful, so beautiful in the way it meant something. She burst into laughter, the joyful kind that left her eyes watery and her chest light. “This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“You mean that?” Theo asked, his grin wide.
She nodded, still beaming.
Theo said, “We wanted to make your birthday special.”
“You’re always baking for us,” Matthew said. “Bringing cookies to the common room, surprising us with tarts and muffins and... whatever that thing was with the apples. It was time we returned the favor.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” Ella said softly, emotion bubbling in her chest. “You are the best. I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”
The boys shifted, clearly flustered but pleased. Draco looked away, pretending to examine the lake. Matthew rubbed at his nose. Theo sat up straighter like he hadn’t been caught blushing. Lorenzo was tapping the book he was holding.
And then they brought out a single candle and stuck it right into the cake.
“Blow out the candle, princess!” they chorused, their voices light and full of affection.
Ella giggled and sat down, her eyes lingering on their faces, she leaned in and closed her eyes.
Her wish came so easily: Let this last. Let us stay like this. Together, that our friendship would last forever strong, no matter what the future held for us.
She blew out the candle in one breath, and the boys erupted into cheers. Theo, of course, immediately plunged a finger into the frosting.
“Oi!” Matthew swatted his hand away. “We didn’t survive Squeaky’s wrath just for you to ruin it!”
As they bickered, Ella spotted a dandelion growing at the water’s edge. On impulse, she plucked it, held it up, and blew.
Draco tilted his head. “What did you wish for?”
Ella grinned. “If I told you, it wouldn’t come true.”
“Oh, come on,” Theo groaned.
“Cheeky,” Draco muttered, but he was fighting a smile.
“But,” she added, looking at each of them, “let’s just say… it was something really good.”
They laughed and playfully groaned again, tossing grass blades at her and trying to guess her wish.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, they sat together telling stories, sharing snacks, and laughing so hard their sides hurt. When the evening grew late and the candles burned low, Ella rose to her feet.
“One more thing,” she said, and pulled each of them into a tight hug.
Theo grumbled something about “not being the emotional type,” but hugged her back with both arms. Matthew held her longer than he meant to. Lorenzo gave her a firm squeeze and a quiet, “Happy birthday, princess.”
When she hugged Draco, he whispered into her ear, “Next year, I’m making the cake myself.”
And as they began their slow walk back to the castle, Ella looked back at the lake one last time.
She knew this birthday would be one she would never forget.
Ella was halfway to the Great Hall when the Weasley twins stood on either side of her like, "Happy birthday, Ella!" they chorused, their identical grins brimming with barely-contained excitement.
"Thanks," Ella replied, already eyeing them warily.
George pulled out a small, brightly wrapped box and held it out. "Special delivery for the birthday girl!"
Ella raised an eyebrow but took the box carefully. Inside was a round, glossy, and vividly pink with a swirling shimmer candy.
"Meet the Pink Bomb," Fred said, practically bouncing with excitement. "Our latest creation. Go on, give it a try!" Ella hesitated for only a second before popping it into her mouth.
Instantly, a cloud of vibrant pink smoke erupted from her lips, swirling around her head like a cotton candy tornado. The entire Great Hall fell silent for half a second before erupting into laughter and applause. Even the Slytherin table couldn’t suppress their amusement.
“It was like I was trying to be a dragon and failed dramatically!” Ella coughed, pink sparkles raining from her hair, “I’m a pink disaster!”
Fred was doubled over. “A beautiful disaster.”
Nearby, Matthew and Theo immediately demanded their own Pink Bombs. Moments later, there were two more pink explosions in the Hall, "Merlin's beard," Draco drawled from the Slytherin table, "We've adopted the chaos."
The entire hall howled with laughter. Even Professor McGonagall was seen hiding a smile behind her goblet, while Professor Dumbledore chuckled openly, clearly delighted by the chaos. “Magnificent,” he said, clapping once. “Carry on.”
By the time the pink clouds had cleared, Ella, Matthew, and Theo stood together like the survivors of a pink volcano covered in glimmering pink sparkles.
As Ella tried to brush sparkles off her skirt, Hermione approached with a small velvet box in her hands.
“I didn’t want to interrupt the... pink party,” she said with a fond smile.
Ella turned toward her. “Hermione!”
“I got you something,” Hermione said, opening the box to reveal a delicate hair clip shaped like a butterfly, its wings crafted from tiny colorful crystals that caught the light beautifully.
"It's charmed," Hermione whispered conspiratorially. "The wings will move when you're happy.”
Ella gasped. “Oh, Hermione, it’s gorgeous!”
“I thought it would match your hair perfectly,” Hermione said. Ella carefully clipped it into place, the butterfly wings moving.
“Do I look magical enough now?” Ella joked.
“You always do,” Hermione said, hugging her.
As Ella and Hermione chatted by the side of the Great Hall, their laughter soft and easy, a pair of eyes tracked them from the Gryffindor table.
"What’s with those two?" Ron muttered, stabbing a potato with unnecessary force. "Since when are they so friendly?" nodding toward where Hermione stood with Ella, her hand resting lightly on Ella’s arm as they spoke.
Harry’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know. But they’ve been spending a lot of time together lately.”
“Too much time,” Ron, said glaring across the room. “Always showing up out of nowhere. Always around Malfoy and the others.”
Harry didn’t answer. He just kept watching as Hermione leaned in to fix the butterfly clip in Ella’s hair, the way her face lit up with pride when Ella twirled for her, laughing. Hermione rarely looked that relaxed with anyone.
From a few seats down, Ginny rolled her eyes. “Honestly, they’re just friends. You two should try being less possessive for once.”
Neither boy responded.
Across the bustling Great Hall, another pair of eyes quietly followed Ella’s every move.
Nancy sat with her back straight and her fingers curled slightly around the edge of the Slytherin table.
Pink sparkles still dusting her hair from the Weasley twins' prank, the kind of magical chaos people remembered.
The delicate butterfly clip from Hermione catching the candlelight with every step. For a fleeting moment, Nancy felt an unexpected pang in her chest. She was popular in her own right, perhaps more admired in the traditional Slytherin way.
No one had ever made that big a fuss over my birthday, she thought.
It was an ugly, selfish feeling, and she hated herself for it. Ella had baked for her last birthday, had given her a tiny bottle of enchanted perfume that shimmered when sprayed.
But it hadn't been like this, a grand show, the whole Hall laughing and cheering, even teachers smiling indulgently.
Nancy sighed quietly and pushed the thought aside. She knew Ella wasn’t as lucky as she looked.
She remembered the whispers that still followed Ella in the corridors. The way some older Slytherins sneered when her back was turned, the notes left in her bag.
The jealousy dissolved as quickly as it had come.
No, Nancy thought firmly. I wouldn’t trade places for anything.
As Ella approached the table, Nancy pushed aside her thoughts and waved her over brightly. "Ella! Come sit with us!"
Ella’s smile was immediate, warm as ever as she slid next to her, Nancy leaned over and pulled her into a tight hug.
"Happy birthday," she whispered, squeezing just a little tighter than necessary—a silent apology for the uncharitable thought.
Ella hugged her back just as fiercely. "Thank you, Nancy."
Draco, lifted an eyebrow at Lorenzo, Lorenzo met his gaze and tilted his head. But for once, they held their tongues.
As Ella curled up under her soft blanket that night. Lucy, her small, fluffy cat, was tucked against her side, purring softly.
The tiny stars Draco had taught her to conjure still shimmered faintly on the ceiling with a few clumsy additions of her own that didn’t quite match any real constellation.
Today had been hers. Tomorrow, she knew, reality would resume classes, expectations, whispers behind her back. But tonight, none of that mattered.
Wrapped in warmth and the fading hum of laughter, she let out a soft sigh and whispered to herself, just before sleep took her:
“Best. Birthday. Ever.”
And with that, a quiet smile on her lips, Ella drifted off into dreams where the lake shimmered pink, where her friends were always close, and where home felt just like this.
As the days passed in a blur of classes, homework, and long study sessions, Ella found herself reaching for the quill that Professor Snape had given her for Christmas. It was always in her bag, carefully tucked in its special case, and every time she took it out to write, a small sense of pride stirred in her chest.
She made a point to clean it after every use, it was a gift she didn’t take lightly. Though she didn’t often see Professor Snape outside of class, the quill remained a quiet reminder of his unexpected kindness.
He was still strict, still sharp-tongued and unreadable to most but to Ella, he had offered a small glimpse of something else.
In Potions, she used it with deliberate care, watching as the ink flowed in perfect, even lines across her parchment. She could feel Snape’s gaze sometimes, but he never acknowledged it. Not a word, not a glance.
One evening, as she packed up her things after class, she realized with a start that Snape was still at his desk, grading. The dungeon was empty save for the two of them, the only sound the scratching of his own quill.
Ella hesitated, then straightened her shoulders and approached.
“Sir?”
Snape didn’t look up. “Miss Ella.”
She swallowed. “I just wanted to say… thank you. For the quill. I’ve been using it every day.”
For a long moment, there was only silence.
“I’ve noticed.”
That was all. But as Ella turned to leave, she hid a smile all the way back to the common room.
For weeks now, the nightmares had become a relentless tide, crashing over Ella night after night.
She would wake up gasping for air, drenched in sweat, her heart beating fast in her chest. Sleep became something she feared, even Lucy seemed worried, curling extra close to her at night.
Each night, she’d lie awake for hours, eyes fixed on the stars on the ceiling, trying to calm herself. But her thoughts kept racing, and the nightmares always found her when she finally gave in.
It was taking its toll.
She was tired, more than tired. Exhausted, irritable, unable to concentrate during lessons. Her hands trembled slightly when she reached for her quill. Her usually bright eyes had dulled with fatigue. And her friends noticed.
"Is that a new makeup look? Or you're just channeling your inner ghost. You look like dead princess," Draco announced bluntly at lunch, his grey eyes sharp as they raked over her pale face.
Ella stabbed at her potatoes. "Flattering as always, Draco."
Lorenzo, set down his fork. "How many hours did you sleep last night?"
"Enough," she muttered.
"Liar," Theo said, uncharacteristically serious.
Matthew, reached over and stilled Ella’s fidgeting hand. "Talk to us."
“I’m fine,” she replied too quickly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Ella,” Draco said, “You’re not,” he said, unwavering. “We can see it.”
She hesitated. Her shoulders sank, and the bravado crumbled.
“It’s the nightmares,” she finally whispered. "They’re getting worse. It’s like... the second I close my eyes, I’m back there. Or somewhere worse. And I’m so tired, I’m scared to sleep."
A heavy silence fell between them for a moment, until Lorenzo leaned forward, his voice soft and thoughtful.
“Do they get worse when you're really exhausted?” he asked.
"And when you’re stressed or sad?" Draco added, uncharacteristically perceptive.
Her eyes widened, startled by how well he read her. "How did you—?"
“It’s your emotions,” Lorenzo said quietly. “They’re feeding it. Your magic, your thoughts—they’re all connected. It’s why the nightmares get more vivid. It... amplifies things.”
Theo nodded sagely. "Like when I dream I’m naked in the Great Hall. Only happens during exams."
Despite everything, Ella snorted.
"We can’t sneak into the girls’ dorms," Matthew said, "but you’re welcome in ours. Or we’ll camp out in the common room. Whatever you need."
"Anytime," Theo said.
Ella looked up at them, her throat tight with emotion. For a moment, she didn’t speak—just took them all in. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick.
Draco smirked, breaking the tension. "Just don’t hog the blankets."
That night, Ella found herself curled on the common room sofa, her head pillowed against Matthew’s shoulder as Theo and Draco bickered quietly over a game of wizard’s chess.
Lorenzo sat cross-legged on the floor, reading aloud from Magical Water Plants in a purposely boring voice "The gillyweed, when properly dried, exhibits a distinct......"
Ella’s eyelids grew heavy.
For the first time in weeks, she slept, truly slept her dreams quiet as the lake outside the windows, deep and safe.
As the days went on, Ella slowly began to feel more at peace. She made a conscious effort to slow down, to breathe, to let herself rest, and to lean into the comfort her friends offered. It wasn’t perfect, some nights were still hard, but the nightmares grew less intense, and her sleep slowly became more manageable.
One day, as Ella was walking to class with her books clutched tightly in her arms, she heard laughter behind her. She could feel their eyes on her back, their pointed fingers like daggers between her shoulder blades.
"Look at her hair, who does she think she is, some kind of ‘princess’?"
"Probably charmed it that way. Anything for attention."
Ella clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms as she forced herself to keep walking. Head high, she told herself. Just like Draco taught you.
Still, their voices echoed in her mind, louder than before. By the time she reached the bathroom, her vision was blurred with tears.
She barely managed to lock the stall door before collapsing onto the closed toilet seat, her entire body shaking.
She was exhausted. From the late-night studying, from the impossible Charms she failed, from the weight of pretending she was okay when she wasn’t. And now the bullying had returned like it had never left.
Her nightmares crept back too, stronger, darker, louder. She hadn’t slept in days.
It was like drowning. No matter how hard she kicked, she couldn’t break the surface.
She heard a soft knock on the stall door.
“Are you okay?” The voice was muffled but familiar, Hermione Granger.
Ella hesitated, her fingers tightening around the crumpled tissue in her hand. “No,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I’m not okay.”
“Can I come in?”
The lock clicked, and the door creaked open. she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, casting a quick “Muffliato” charm to ensure their privacy, her brows knitted with worry. She didn’t speak right away.
“What’s going on?” she asked softly.
That was all it took.
It all spilled out. The whispers in the corridors, the laughter that followed her, the way her nightmares had returned with a vengeance. The crushing weight of homework, the spells she couldn’t master, the exhaustion that clung to her like a second skin. By the time she finished, her cheeks were wet with tears, her breath coming in ragged hiccups.
When Ella finally looked up, she saw Hermione’s eyes—kind and full of quiet understanding. Then, without hesitation, Hermione pulled her into a hug.
“I’m so sorry you’re going through this,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “It’s not fair. And it’s not right. You don’t deserve any of it.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m just… so tired of feeling like this. Of being strong all the time.”
“I know,” Hermione said, pulling back just enough to look her in the eye. “So,” Hermione continued, straightening up, “here’s what we’re going to do. First, we’re reporting those bullies to McGonagall. No, don’t argue…” she cut off Ella’s protest with a raised hand, “…because harassment is against school rules, and I have a very thorough memory of every incident you just described.”
Ella almost laughed at the glint in Hermione’s eye. “You’re terrifying.”
“Good,” Hermione said, grinning. “Second, we’re tackling your workload. I’ve got a system for revising that’s will help you, and you can always ask me for help with anything."
When Ella and Hermione stepped out of the bathroom, they were surprised to see Fred and George Weasley pacing the corridor, "Blimey, Ella—are you alright?" George asked immediately, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.
"We heard you crying," Fred added, uncharacteristically serious. “Sounded like you.”
Ella glanced at Hermione, who gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll tell them," she said. And then, Ella told the twins everything.
Peeves hovered nearby, uncharacteristically still, his usual maniacal grin absent. For once, the poltergeist wasn't cackling or causing chaos, he was listening.
He always been a menace to most students, but he’d always had a soft spot for Ella. Maybe it was the way she never tried to control him. Or maybe… he just saw something in her that reminded him of someone he'd once known.
When Hermione finished, Peeves drifted forward until he was eye-level with Ella. “No one messes with my friends,” he said, his voice low and serious. “I'll make sure they leave you alone, little snake.”
Ella blinked in surprise. She had never seen Peeves like this—protective, sincere. “…Thank you, Peeves,” she said, her voice small but honest. “I really appreciate it.”
Peeves winked at her, his grin returning. "Just you wait. They’ll be begging for mercy by morning!" With a dramatic flip, he shot down the corridor, his laughter echoing behind him.
Fred let out a low whistle. “Blimey. You’ve just recruited the most chaotic ally in Hogwarts.”
George nodded. “We’ve known Peeves a long time. If he likes you, he’ll rain down absolute havoc for your sake.”
“Don’t worry,” Fred said, giving her a gentle nudge. “Peeves is like a guardian angel. A loud, unpredictable one.”
"Guardian devil, more like," George corrected with a grin.
"Either way," Hermione said, linking her arm with Ella’s, "I think you’re in good hands."
The moment Ella stepped into the Slytherin common room, four heads snapped up in unison. The boys had clearly been waiting.
"What happened?" Matthew demanded, crossing the room in three strides. His hands hovered as if unsure whether to hug her or hex someone. "We heard about those idiots in the corridor. Are you—"
"I'm alright," Ella said, though her voice betrayed her with the slightest tremor. She forced a smile. "Just... thought we were past this."
Lorenzo's jaw clenched. “We’re sorry you had to go through that.” Lorenzo said, frowning deeply.
Ella turned to Draco, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “Really, I’m fine,” she said, nudging him lightly with her elbow. “Promise.”
Draco hesitated for a beat, then nodded, his expression softening. “Okay.”
Theo, however, looked ready to get into a fight. "Where. Are. They." His wand was already in his hand, sparking dangerously.
"Theo—no," Ella said firmly, catching his wrist. "It's not worth it."
"Like hell it isn't!"
Ella said, lifting her hands. “I appreciate it, really, but it’s not worth it. We should just move on.”
“But they don’t get to do that to you,” Theo shot back, frustration in his voice. “They need to know they can’t get away with it.”
Ella sighed. “I know. But I don’t want you guys getting in trouble because of me. They’re not worth it.”
Theo looked like he might argue, but Matthew spoke first. "She's right," Matthew said unexpectedly, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. "They're not worth the detention."
The two boys exchanged a look "But they won't get another chance. That much, I promise.” Matthew said, “We’ll drop it... for now. But if they come near you again—”
“I appreciate that,” Ella said warmly. “Now can we please just have a normal evening?”
“Absolutely,” Theo said, throwing an arm over her shoulders. “Something fun. Wizard’s chess?”
Ella grinned. “Only if I get to watch you and Matthew go at it. You two are more dramatic than a soap opera.”
“In my defense,” Matthew said with a laugh, “I was only trying to beat him once.”
“No kidding,” Ella said, laughing. “Still more fun than watching Dray and Enzo. They treat chess like it’s life or death.”
Across the room, she could still picture Draco and Lorenzo locked in a silent, intense battle, brows furrowed, each move calculated like a duel.
“They’re too smart for their own good,” she joked. “But I think I’d rather play your version next time. Looks like more fun.”
Later, as they all sat around the fireplace, Ella told them about Peeves unexpected alliance.
"PEEVES?!" Theo yelped, nearly toppling backward. "As in, 'The floating chaos gremlin Peeves'?!"
“Peeves has never been on anyone’s side before,” Lorenzo said, shaking his head. “This is... historic.”
Theo gave a thoughtful hum. “Maybe he’s not as awful as we thought.”
“Or maybe,” Draco arched one perfect eyebrow. "I suppose even poltergeists recognize royalty when they see it."
Ella threw a pillow at him, laughing despite herself. "Shut up, Malfoy."
"Make me, princess."
The room broke into laughter again, the weight of earlier events melting away.
But at night, as Ella drifted off to sleep, a familiar sense of dread crept in. She knew the nightmare was coming, and no matter how hard she fought, she could never escape it.
Sure enough, she found herself trapped in the same suffocating darkness, facing the two lifeless blonde figures. Again.
Ella shot up in bed, heart pounding, breath caught in her throat. It was just a dream, she told herself, trying to slow her breathing. But it had felt so real.
She tried lying back down, eyes on the enchanted stars twinkling above her bed. But not even their soft, shimmering light could calm her this time.
The dream replayed over and over in her mind, louder, sharper and darker, finally she gave up.
Clutching her frog plushie tight, she slipped out of bed and went down to the Slytherin common room, hoping the presence of others might ease the lingering unease.
Draco was already there, lounged in an armchair with a book in his lap. He glanced up at the sound of her footsteps, and smiled gently.
“There you are, princess,” he said, setting the book aside. “I had a feeling you'd have the nightmare again. So… I waited.”
Ella paused, her eyes softening. “You did?”
Draco stood, his gaze full of quiet understanding. “I figured you might want someone to talk to.”
Ella exhaled, shoulders slumping. "It’s the same nightmare. I can’t—" She stopped mid sentence, frustration tightening her throat. "I can’t make it stop."
Draco studied her for a moment before standing and offering his hand. "Come on. I’ve got an idea."
Curious but too weary to question him, Ella took his hand and let him lead her through the silent castle, up winding staircases until they reached the Astronomy Tower. The night air was crisp, the sky a sprawling canvas of stars.
He spread out a blanket near the edge and gestured for her to sit. "You always stare at the ceiling after your nightmares," he said, settling beside her. "Figured the real ones might help more than charmed ones."
Ella blinked, warmth creeping into her cheeks. "You noticed that?"
"I notice a lot of things," he murmured, holding her gaze just long enough to make her pulse stutter before turning his eyes upward.
“I just thought… if I can’t take the nightmares away, maybe I can give you a better place to breathe.”
Ella gazed at the sky, her eyes reflecting the stars. “You did,” she whispered. “This is perfect. It really is.”
He looked over at her, and for a second, “Then maybe,” Draco said, “we’ll make this our spot. Whenever you need to breathe.”
Ella nodded slowly, her heart lighter than it had been all day. The weight of the nightmare began to fade, softened by the stars, the breeze, and the quiet boy who stayed up just to make sure she wouldn't be alone.
They sat in silence, side by side, watching the night.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Draco leaned back on his hands, gazing up. “Anytime.”
“How about we take stargazing to the next level?" Draco suggested after a comfortable silence, tilting his head toward the sky. "We could fly up there, get a real view of the stars?"
Ella’s eyes lit up, but she was a bit hesitant. "That sounds amazing… but I’ve never flown at night before. Honestly, I can barely fly in daylight."
A smirk tugged at Draco’s lips. “I know flying isn’t your favorite thing. " he said dryly. Then, softer: "We could share my broom. That way, you don’t have to worry about steering. Just hold on to me and enjoy the ride."
Ella hesitated, but the idea didn’t sound so bad, not with him. “You’re sure it’s okay?”
“Of course it is,” he said simply, like there was never any question.
"But only if you promise not to do anything reckless."
Draco pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "When have I ever been reckless?"
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile.
A few minutes later, Draco returned with his broom, “Ready to go a little higher?” he asked, offering her his hand. Ella took it, his grip warm and steady.
Her arms instinctively wrapped around his waist as she tried to steady her breathing.
"Relax," Draco murmured, glancing over his shoulder. "I’ve got you. And if you want to go back down at any point, just tell me."
Then they were rising, slowly at first, then faster as the tower dropped away beneath them. The wind rushed past. The wind caught Ella’s hair, sending it streaming behind her like a dark river.
Hogwarts sprawled beneath them, bathed in silver moonlight. The Black Lake glittered like shattered glass, and the Forbidden Forest loomed in shadowy waves. But above the stars were everywhere, closer and brighter than she’d ever seen.
Her heartbeat slowed for a moment, she forgot the nightmares.
"How does it feel?" Draco's voice was barely louder than the wind rushing past them. "Incredible," she breathed, her gaze tracing the constellations. "It's like we're flying through the stars themselves."
Draco turned slightly, his gaze full of quiet affection. The edges of his lips lifted into a smile that made her heart skip.
They circled the castle once, twice, drifting over the glassy surface of the lake, where the constellations shimmered in the water below. And when Draco leaned back slightly, his body pressed gently against hers, a new warmth bloomed in her chest. She had never been this close to him before, not like this.
Ella exhaled, committing every second to memory. She laughed, the sound bright and unburdened, carried away by the wind.
For once, her thoughts weren’t weighed down. She wasn't thinking about curses or expectations or what tomorrow held. She was simply… happy.
Flying beside Draco felt safe, like the world couldn’t touch her as long as he was with her.
Time blurred. It could have been minutes or hours before she finally murmured, "We should head back."
Draco turned his head, grey eyes met hers, brighter than she’d ever seen them. "Already?" he asked. “We could keep going, if you like.”
Ella hesitated. A part of her wanted to stay in this moment forever.
“I’m sure,” she said, though her smile was wistful. “But this has been… amazing.”
Draco gave a small nod, his lips curling into a soft smile. “It really has.”
They descended slowly, the ground felt strange beneath her feet after being weightless for so long.
Ella’s hair was wild from the wind, Draco reached out instinctively, brushing the hair away with a gentle touch. “Your hair’s a mess,” he said. "You look like you’ve been dragged through a bush backward," he teased, but his touch was gentle.
Ella’s face burned. "Says the boy who spends more time on his hair than his homework," she shot back, swatting at his arm.
Draco clutched his chest in mock horror. "Cruel, Ella. And here I thought you’d be grateful after that flight." She laughed, and when he joined in, the nightmares felt far away now.
Draco’s eyes landed on the frog plushie Ella was still holding, and he raised a brow. “Your froggie knight did a good job,” he said with a teasing grin.
Ella laughed, hugging the plushie to her chest. “You never know when you might need a good one,” she said. “He’s pretty good at his job.”
"I don't doubt it," Draco said, playing along with exaggerated seriousness. "Probably defeated more dark wizards than most aurors."
Ella nodded solemnly, making the plushie nod along with her.
They snuck back toward the Slytherin common room, weaving through quiet corridors and avoiding roaming ghosts, patrolling teachers and past gossiping portraits.
When they finally reached the common room entrance, "Well," Draco murmured, voice low, "that was significantly better than moping in the common room, wasn't it?"
Ella surprised him by throwing her arms around him in a hug. "Thank you," she whispered into his shoulder. "For everything."
Draco smiled as he returned the hug. "Anytime, princess," he said, the usual teasing nickname suddenly tender. "I mean that."
Pulling back, Ella met his gaze. "The offer goes both ways, you know."
Draco's smirk returned, "I'll be sure to wake you at three AM next time I fancy a broom ride."
"Goodnight, Draco," she laughed, shaking her head.
"Sweet dreams," he replied, turning down the boys' corridor with a lazy wave. "No more nightmares."
Ella stood there for a moment, everything felt just right. It had been a perfect kind of night—the kind you want to tuck away and keep forever.
She slipped into the girls’ dormitory and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.
She was lucky. And she knew it.
With one arm around her plushie and the other resting gently on Lucy’s soft fur, Ella closed her eyes again. She fell asleep with a smile on her face.
The next morning, as Ella made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast, she was surprised to see Theo and Matthew waiting for her just outside the doors.
"Good morning," Ella said, raising an eyebrow. "What are you two up to?"
Theo bowed an exaggerated bow, his robes fluttering dramatically. "Why, we’re here to escort Her Highness to breakfast, of course," he declared. "Can’t have our favorite princess braving the savage crowds alone."
Matthew mirrored the gesture, nearly knocking into a passing first-year in his enthusiasm. "The knights are at your service," he added with a wink.
Ella laughed, shaking her head. “You two are ridiculous,” she said, but she was secretly touched. “Alright then, lead the way.”
With Theo on one side and Matthew on the other, they walked into the Great Hall like a royal parade, the two boys calling out, "Make way for Princess Ella!" and "All hail!" as they went.
She rolled her eyes at them, but she couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at her lips.
But as they weaved through the tables, she noticed the sidelong glances from other students, raised eyebrows, whispered comments. Her steps sloewd, her earlier amusement fading into unease.
Matthew, ever observant, tightened his arm around her shoulders. "Ignore them," he murmured, steering her forward. "They’re just jealous they don’t have their own royal entourage."
Theo leaned in, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Face it, Ella, you’re the most interesting person in this hall. They’re all just realizing it."
That drew a genuine laugh from her, and by the time they reached the Slytherin table, the tension had melted away. She took her seat, flanked by her self-appointed knights.
“Thank you for escorting me to the breakfast table,” Ella said, trying to mimic a royal tone.
Matthew gave a mock bow from his seat. “It was our honor, Your Highness.”
Theo placed a hand on his chest solemnly. “Our swords are yours, always.”
Ella grinned, and for a moment, the strange looks and whispers faded into the background.
The three of them began to eat, chatting about the day’s classes and tossing around ideas for what they might do over the weekend.
Then Draco and Lorenzo arrived, sliding onto the bench with casual ease. "What’s this?" Draco drawled, eyeing Theo and Matthew’s lingering theatrics. "Did I miss the coronation?"
"Obviously," Theo said, tossing a grape at him. "We’re establishing Ella’s royal court. Positions are still open if you’re interested."
Draco smirked, stealing a piece of toast from Ella’s plate. "I’ll consider it."
As the conversation flowed around her, Ella couldn’t help but glance around again but they pulled her back into their conversions and laughter.
Theo debating Quidditch tactics with Lorenzo, Matthew dramatically recounting a near-miss with Filch, Draco occasionally interjecting with dry commentary, they made everything else a little easier.
When Ella stepped into class, her eyes immediately found Nancy, already seated alone near the back. She made her way over with a soft smile, and Nancy returned it with a nod. Ella slid into the seat beside her.
Ella noticed a few of the other Slytherins casting glances their way. Some leaned toward each other, whispering behind half-covered mouths.
Nancy didn’t miss it either. She straightened slightly, her voice low but firm. "Don’t mind them."
Ella forced a nod, turning her attention to the front as the professor began the lesson, but her mind kept drifting back to those looks.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Nancy fidgeting with her quill, spinning it between her fingers and staring blankly ahead. Her usual composure was missing.
When Nancy sighed for the third time in five minutes, Ella leaned in. “Hey… is everything okay?” Nancy blinked, almost startled, then turned to her with a sheepish expression. “I’m sorry. I’m just… worried about something.”
“You can tell me anything,” Ella said softly.
Nancy hesitated. Her eyes flicked around the room before returning to Ella. “It’s… it’s something personal,” she murmured.
Ella didn’t press. She only nodded with understanding, her gaze calm and steady. “I’m here if you need me. Anytime.”
Nancy offered her a faint smile, grateful, but still distant.
When class ended, Nancy hurried off to meet her other friends in the courtyard, leaving Ella with a lingering sense of unease. Shaking it off, she headed for the library.
She had homework to finish, and she wanted the rest of the evening free in case Nancy or anyone needed her.
The moment she stepped inside the library, the scent of old parchment and ink greeted her like an old friend.
She sat at her favorite table, far from prying eyes and whispered conversations. Books spread before her, quill in hand, she let herself sink into the rhythm of work.
After hours of focused studying, Ella was pulled from her thoughts by something fluttering toward her. A folded piece of parchment shaped like a bird flowed down and landed neatly on her table.
Curious, she reached for it and gently unfolded the wings. Inside, she recognized Draco's sharp, elegant script intertwined with Lorenzo's bolder strokes:
"Dearest Princess— Hope you're surviving the academic trenches. Try not to drown in ink.
Love (but don't tell anyone we said that),
Draco & Lorenzo"
A quiet laugh escaped her as she penned her reply:
"Gentlemen—Your concern is touching. Fear not—I'll emerge victorious (and with time to spare for tormenting you both later).
Ella"
She sent the note back and returned to her books, the brief exchange made even the driest textbook passages more bearable.
An hour later, Ella let out a long breath and stretched her arms over her head, satisfied with her progress. She had finished all her homework. Gathering her things, she met up with Draco and Lorenzo outside the library, and the three of them made their way to the Great Hall for dinner.
Later, back in the common room, they were joined by the rest of the group. The evening passed in a blur of laughter and shared stories.
In the weeks that followed, life shifted into study mode. With exams looming, Ella and the boys buried themselves in their books. The library became their second home, pages turning and quills scratching late into the evenings.
The pressure was building.
Ella felt it pressing against her chest every time she opened her notes. There was a sense of responsibility she couldn’t shake. She wanted to do well.
Draco and Lorenzo were relentless, quizzing each other with the intensity of dueling wizards, debating magical theory until Ella's head spun.
"Honestly," she groaned one evening, dropping her forehead onto an open Potions text, "who cares why the moon phases affect valerian sprigs this way?"
Lorenzo, ever patient, nudged a bowl of blueberries toward her. "Because if you get it wrong, your Potion might erase your memory instead of the target's."
"That... seems important," she conceded, popping a berry in her mouth.
Matthew and Theo weren’t exactly top of the class, but they were willing to try their best. With patient guidance from Draco and Lorenzo, both began to make real progress.
"The trick," Draco said, tapping Theo's tragic star chart, "is to not draw a top hat."
Theo squinted. "But it's funnier this way."
The progress came, slowly but surely. Lorenzo's knack for simplifying complex concepts made even Transfiguration manageable, while Draco's ruthless fake exams left them all groaning but better prepared.
Despite the warmth of her close friends, the whispers never stopped.
The nickname "Slytherin Princess" had caught on and not in a kind way. At first, Ella tried to brush it off, but as the days passed, she couldn’t ignore how it followed her like a shadow.
Students would point when they thought she wasn’t looking. Hushed voices hissed just loud enough to be heard.
"Thinks she's royalty now, does she?"
"There goes the Slytherin Princess..."
"She actually believes she’s special?"
"Probably gets special treatment from Snape."
"Look at her…"
Ella’s nails dug into her palms, but she didn’t react. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. She didn’t mention it to the boys, because she didn’t want them to worry. They were all dealing with enough as it was.
Besides, if she let herself talk about it, she might break. And she couldn’t afford that. Not now.
Instead, she buried herself in her studies. The library became her refuge, the weight of textbooks a welcome distraction. And if her friends noticed her quieter demeanor, her longer hours hunched over books, they didn’t press.
One night, as Ella walked alone through the corridor near the Charms classroom. The corridor was too quiet, that was Ella’s first warning.
She’d barely rounded the corner when they emerged from shadowed alcoves like predators circling prey.
Hufflepuffs and Slytherins first-years, mostly formed a loose circle around her.
"Look, it’s the Slytherin Princess!"
Ella tightened her grip on her bookbag and kept walking.
They fell into step around her, "Going somewhere, Princess?" someone mocked.
The laughter that followed was sharp and ugly.
Ella didn’t respond. She kept her eyes forward, willing herself to stay calm. "Why don't you curtsey for us?"
"Thought you'd be too good to walk with the rest of us."
"Where’s your royal escort today?"
A shove between her shoulder blades sent her stumbling forward, Ella turned and she saw Marcus Flint a first-year with the build of a third-year.
"We just want to have a little fun," Marcus said with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.
"What do you want?" Her voice trembled, and she hated herself for it. He stepped closer, and his voice dropped, venomous.
"You're not a real Slytherin. You're too soft. Too pathetic. You don't belong here."
Ella swallowed hard, "You don’t get to decide who belongs and who doesn’t," she said quietly, but her voice trembled. "And you don’t know anything about me."
Marcus let out a cold laugh. The others joined in.
"Oh, we know enough," he sneered. "You’re a disgrace to this house."
Ella’s vision blurred, hurt and anger, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop the tears from welling up. She turned away slightly, wiping at her face quickly.
"Ooooh!" Marcus crowed, delighted. "Is the Slytherin Princess crying?"
"Did we hurt your delicate feelings, Your Highness?"
Laughter erupted again louder, meaner.
Ella barely had time to wipe her tears before a familiar, maniacal cackle echoed through the corridor.
She looked up.
There was Peeves, the poltergeist, floating just above her, his grin wicked and his hat askew.
"Slytherin Princess, oh my!" he said in a singsong voice, swooping in a lazy spiral. "Such a pretty name… but I prefer, little snake!" He giggled madly, flipping in midair.
Ella closed her eyes briefly. But then, his laughter faded, and something in his expression shifted.
He floated closer, "You're a Slytherin," he said again, but this time, his voice was quieter. "Real ones don’t cry in front of fools."
Ella blinked, confused. "Don’t let them get to you, little snake." he said with a wink.
And then the glint returned to his eye, Peeves turned to the group of stunned students, A snap of his fingers.
Every book, parchment, and quill in the hallway launched into the air like a flock of startled birds.
"PEEVES!" Marcus roared as his textbook smacked him square in the forehead.
"Oi!"
"Hey, that’s mine!"
"What…what’s happening?!"
The students screamed and scrambled as their notes flew wildly around them.
Peeves let out a triumphant hoot, zooming through the mess like a firework. "You lot think you're clever? Let’s see how clever you are without your homework!"
The papers darted and danced, flapping around heads like enchanted bats. Some students dove for their books, only for Peeves to flick his fingers again—this time at the inkwells.
With a hiss and pop, ink bubbled up and exploded from the wells, splattering robes, pages, and faces alike.
The corridor erupted into chaos. Shouts, groans, and furious squeals filled the air as ink rained down in thick, splotchy waves. Peeves doubled over with laughter mid-air.
"What is going on here?"
The corridor fell eerily silent.
Professor Snape had arrived.
He stood at the end of the hallway, his eyes swept over the mess, floating parchment, dripping ink, trembling first-years.
And then he saw Ella.
She stood a little apart from the others, her hands clenched tightly at her sides, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. Snape’s gaze lingered for a second too long. Then, coldly, he turned to Peeves.
Peeves froze, Peeves looked like a deer caught in headlights, but then he quickly recovered his composure. "Just having a bit of fun, Professor," he said, his tone deliberately innocent. "No harm done, right?"
Professor Snape glared at Peeves, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You have a curious definition of 'fun'," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
He simply vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving the students to deal with the aftermath of his mischief.
He exhaled through his nose and looked back to Ella. For a heartbeat, something flickered in his eyes not quite pity, but recognition.
The look of someone who knew what it was to be cornered. "Ella," he said quietly. "Are you all right?"
She nodded, blinking back tears quickly. "I’m okay, Professor," she replied, her voice small.
Snape gave a slight nod. Then he turned to the others. "Ten points from Slytherin and Hufflepuff," he snapped. "For sheer stupidity in provoking a poltergeist. Now get out of my sight."
There was no argument. The students dispersed at once, Ella remained where she was, quietly watching as everyone disappeared for a while.
As Ella walked alone through the dimly lit corridor leading to the dungeons, her limbs felt heavy, as if they were made of lead. She didn’t make it all the way back to the common room.
She found an empty bench tucked beneath an arched alcove and sank onto it, her knees drawn to her chest, her robes damp with tears she could no longer hold back.
She had tried so hard to be strong. To ignore the whispers, the laughter, of pretending it didn’t hurt.
Her sobs were muffled, her face buried in her hands, She cried until there was nothing left in her but soft, broken whimpers.
When the tears finally stopped, she sat there quietly, she pressed her fingertips to her eyes, wiping them dry.
It wasn’t much, but she felt a faint release like a window had been opened inside her, just enough to breathe again.
She didn’t hear the footsteps at first.
Lorenzo had been on his way back from the library when he saw her a small, crumpled figure in the shadows.
He approached slowly, his chest tightening with every step. "Princess," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "What’s wrong?"
Without asking, Lorenzo sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed.
"It’s clearly not nothing."
She looked at him, searching his face as if trying to decide if she could afford to fall apart again. "They won’t stop." Her voice was raw, barely audible. "No matter what I do, no matter how hard I ignore them… they just keep coming."
A tear slipped free, trailing down her cheek. Lorenzo’s hand twitched, aching to wipe it away.
She told him everything, Lorenzo didn’t interrupt. He didn’t offer clichés or pretend to have answers. He just listened to her.
When she finished, she let out a shaky breath, trying to collect what little strength she had left. Lorenzo reached out, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, his touch warm and grounding.
"I know you and the others would have done something if I told you," she admitted, staring at her trembling hands. "But I didn’t want to burden you. I thought I could handle it on my own."
Lorenzo exhaled slowly, his brow furrowed with quiet hurt.
"Princess," he said softly, "you’re not a burden. We care about you. It's not a burden to help a friend. It's a privilege."
She blinked, and tears welled again, but these were different. These came from somewhere deeper. Lorenzo didn’t let go. He pulled her closer, and she let her head rest against his shoulder.
And for a while, they just sat there in the quiet.
"Do you think I really belong in Slytherin?" she whispered.
"Everyone in this school keeps saying I don’t. Even the whole first year agrees." "Do you really think you don’t belong in Slytherin?" he asked gently.
"Because I don’t believe that for a second."
She didn’t answer right away. So he went on.
“You’re clever, resourceful, stubborn when you need to be, and you always find a way. That is Slytherin. You may not look like the rest of them. You don’t act like them all the time. But that doesn’t make you less Slytherin."
He paused, his tone growing quieter—more personal.
"Princess, I know what it’s like to feel out of place in your own house, to feel like you don’t belong," he said. "Like you’re some mistake that slipped through the cracks."
"But the truth is… the only person who gets to decide where you belong, is you."
Ella finally looked up, her eyes glassy. Lorenzo met them with quiet strength.
"It’s not about proving yourself to anyone else. It’s about knowing yourself. So tell me. When you think about who you are, where your heart lives… do you feel like a Slytherin?"
Ella hesitated, then slowly nodded.
"I think I do," she said. "But I just… I don’t know if I’m as Slytherin as everyone else. Maybe I’m too kind. Too soft to be one."
Lorenzo gave her a warm, crooked smile.
"That’s the thing," he said. "There’s no perfect mold. There's no one size fits all for any of the houses. No checklist of what a Slytherin should act like."
He leaned back slightly, glancing up at the ceiling as if sorting through his thoughts, then looked back at her.
"You can be a Slytherin who’s kind who's probably is the nicest one to other houses. One who cries in the hallway and still gets back up the next day. Just like a Gryffindor can be scared. Or a Ravenclaw can feel dumb. You don’t have to fit into their version of Slytherin to be a real one."
Ella was quiet, his words slowly sinking in.
He stretched his legs out in front of him, his tone lighter now. "Because in Slytherin we don’t have to be carbon copies of each other. You think Theo’s the same as Draco? Or that I’m anything like Pansy?" He snorted. "Merlin, no. We’re all different. That’s the point."
Ella let out a shaky breath, the tightness in her chest easing just a little.
"Ella," he said. "You don’t need to change or prove anything. Just be you. That’s enough. More than enough. And I’m proud of the Slytherin you are."
Her eyes filled again, "Thank you, Lorenzo," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Lorenzo grinned, ruffling her hair like she was a little sister. "Anytime, princess."
"Enzo… you said you know how it feels."
Ella’s voice was barely above a whisper as her head rested against his shoulder again.
"Did you go through the same thing… in your first year?"
Lorenzo let out a slow breath. He didn’t answer at first. His eyes focused on the flickering torches lining the hallway wall across from them, shadows dancing along the stones like memories he didn’t want to face.
Then he spoke softly, as if unwrapping something fragile.
"Yeah. I did."
His jaw tightened. "… one of those ‘traditional’ pure-blood families. We look perfect, respected, wealthy, polished. The kind where reputation matters more than happiness."
His fingers flexed against his knees. "My parents didn’t marry for love. It was an arrangement marriage two ‘respectable’ bloodlines to keep the lineage ‘pure.’"
A bitter laugh escaped him. "My mother was eighteen when they bonded her to a man a decade older. She never had a choice."
Ella’s eyes widened. Her heart clenched. This was a side of Enzo she had never seen vulnerable and exposed. She turned her face toward him, trying to see more than the dim light allowed.
"He always hated her," Lorenzo continued, so quiet Ella had to hold her breath to hear. "And when I was born… well. I looked like her. Acted like her. Loved the things she loved." His jaw tightened. "He hated that most of all."
Ella’s fingers found his sleeve, gripping tight. "Lorenzo, I…”
"The first time he called me a disappointment, I was six," he said flatly. "By the time I got my Hogwarts letter, he’d stopped speaking to me altogether unless it was to criticize."
A humorless smirk twisted his lips. "Imagine his face when the Sorting Hat shouted ‘Slytherin’ before it even touched my head. His heir, finally something he could be proud of."
The pieces clicked together - why Lorenzo always changed the subject when families were mentioned, why he'd tense whenever someone bragged about their father's accomplishments in the common room. She now knew why he never mentioned his family before, and she felt a rush of anger at his father.
"That's so unfair," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "She didn’t deserve that. And neither did you."
Lorenzo gave a faint, bitter smile, eyes fixed on some far-off point in the shadows ahead. "No, she didn’t," he said quietly. "She was one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. She loved magic, books, and silence. She used to hum when she cooked, and she always made sure I felt safe with her."
“She tried to protect me,” he said after a pause. “Tried to shield me from it all. But I saw it. Every time he looked at her like she was a mistake. Every time he looked at me the same way.”
Ella tightened her grip on his hand, her own eyes burning now.
Lorenzo continued, his voice low and thick with sorrow. "He made my mum feel like she was nothing. And when… he… killed her..." He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening, "he didn’t even flinch. He didn’t care. Not about her. Not about me."
Ella’s breath caught in her throat.
"He just married someone else, started over like I was never born. Like I was just a ghost in his house. I was nothing to him. It was like I had stopped existing in his world."
Ella was horrified by this story, and she couldn't imagine how difficult it must have been for Lorenzo to lose his mother in such a brutal way.
Lorenzo’s eyes stared forward, but he wasn’t seeing the hallway anymore. He was somewhere else, somewhere far darker. And Ella, heart aching, could only imagine the coldness of growing up in a place like that.
"It was like I’d died with her," he whispered.
Ella felt something twist in her chest grief, fury, helplessness all at once. She wanted to take that pain from him, but all she could do was listen.
She saw a single tear slip down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, he glanced at her, and in that moment, the mask he always wore, the one of charm and control, all gone.
"My father was a loyal follower of Voldemort," he said, voice bitter, hollow. "My mum wasn’t. She refused to serve him, refused to help him when he and other were trying to look for him again. She stood up to him, even though she knew the cost."
"He called it betrayal,'" His hand tightened around hers. "So he used her defiance as an excuse to get rid of her."
Ella’s eyes filled with tears. The silence stretched, heavy and sacred.
"I remember her screams," Lorenzo said quietly, his voice shaking. "I was in my room. I—I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I just heard her begging... then silence."
He looked down at his lap, tapping his knee with his free hand as if trying to ground himself.
"He didn’t even take her to St. Mungo’s," he said through gritted teeth. "She was still alive when he left her there—bleeding, shaking, barely breathing." His voice broke. "It was me and the house-elf who got her out. She held my hand the whole way. She was still trying to comfort me, even when she was the one dying."
Ella covered her mouth, a sob escaping. Her tears fell freely now, as if mourning the woman she had never known.
He kept tapping his knee - a rapid, nervous rhythm that matched the pounding of Ella's heart. "I was twelve," he said, voice scraped raw. "The spell... it wasn't quick. It wasn't meant to be. The curse had sunk into her bones. Nothing they did could stop it." His free hand clenched into a fist. "I was holding her hand when she…."
Ella couldn't breathe. Tears blurred her vision as she threw her arms around him, clutching him so tightly she could feel his heartbeat against her chest, too fast, too frantic. He stiffened for a moment before relaxing, his face buried in her shoulder.
"He still walks free. Sits on the Wizengamot. Sleeps in with a new wife, new children..." his voice bitter, angry. "Sometimes I think no one remembers her at all."
"The worst part was that nobody seemed to care," he whispered. "My father told everyone my mother died in an accident—said she was experimenting with new spells and got it wrong. And they all just believed him. No one asked questions. No one looked deeper. Not one person came to me." He let out a shaky breath. "I felt so alone. So powerless." he muttered, voice muffled against her robes.
Ella felt Lorenzo's pain like a physical weight pressing against her chest. His words painted a picture of a child screaming into a void where no one would listen, the funeral where no one questioned, the empty condolences, a boy standing alone at his mother's grave while the world moved on.
"I was too young to do anything to help her," he said, voice breaking. "I kept thinking… If only I were older… if only I could use magic… maybe I could’ve stopped it. Maybe I could’ve saved her."
"It wasn't your fault," she murmured into his hair. "You were just a child. You loved her and she knew that. That what matters."
When his breathing finally steadied, Lorenzo pulled back slightly, his red-rimmed eyes meeting hers. The raw gratitude in his gaze made her heart clench.
"After she died," he said, swiping at his cheeks with a shaky hand, "I spent every free moment in the library. Studying healing spells. Potions. Anything that might..." He swallowed hard. "I want to make sure I can save the people I care about. That no one around me has to suffer the way she did."
So many things made sense, the way he knew so much, the way he ran to Draco when he dislocated his shoulder, even his quiet insistence on carrying essence of dittany in his pocket at all times. Every skill had been a silent vow to a mother he couldn't save.
"I had no idea you were going through so much," she said gently.
Lorenzo gave a small, broken smile.
"I’m good at putting up a front," he said. "I know how to make it look like everything’s fine... even when it’s not."
Ella reached for his hand again, this time not to comfort, but to promise.
"You don’t have to pretend with me."
His voice came out thick, heavy with emotion. "Thank you."
Ella smiled and leaned over, wrapping him in a quick, warm hug.
"You're stuck with me now," she said with a teasing grin. "You’re not getting rid of me. Never."
He let out a small, amused breath. "You know, it’s funny," he said thoughtfully. "When we first saw you, I never would've guessed we’d end up this close. But here we are... and I’m really glad we are."
"Me too," Ella replied, her voice soft and warm.
Lorenzo smiled at her, and she smiled back a quiet, shared understanding settling between them.
The dungeon corridors seemed quieter now, the usual chill in the air less biting as they walked side by side. Lorenzo's shoulder brushed against Ella's as they turned a corner, "You know," he said breaking the comfortable silence in that posh accent of his, "I think this is the first time in years I've actually... talked about her." His voice was softer now, the rough edges of grief smoothed by the simple act of sharing it.
Ella bumped her shoulder against his. "Well, get used to it," she said lightly, though her eyes were warm. "Because I'm officially appointing myself as your personal venting counselor. Free of charge."
Lorenzo snorted. "Do I get a say in this?"
"Absolutely not."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Figures. You Slytherin princess always get what you want."
"Yes, I do." Ella said, grinning.
When they reached the common room, a few students glanced up as they entered, but most were too absorbed in their own conversations or last minute studying to pay them much mind.
Lorenzo hesitated near the staircase leading to the boys' dormitory. "Ella," he started, suddenly looking a bit awkward.
"Yeah?"
"...Thanks. For tonight."
Ella didn't make a big deal of it. She just smiled.
"Good night, princess," he said.
"Goodnight, Enzo."
Lying in bed, Ella stared up at the stars above her, the gentle lapping of the Black Lake against the dungeon windows lulled her thoughts.
She turned Lorenzo's story over and over in her mind, the quiet courage it must have taken to carry that all these years without turning bitter, to go through all that and still be the sort who remembers everyone's favorite biscuits and charms paper frogs for first-years who miss home.
It amazed her. Inspired her. How could someone endure so much and still choose kindness?
A part of her wondered if she could have done the same if she had been in his place, would she still be strong like him?
But as she lay there, the familiar ache of her own past surfaced. The things she'd endured, the shadows she'd learned to walk beside. She had her scars too different, maybe but real. Even her nightmares hadn't broken her, not really.
A soft smile touched her lips. She realized then that she didn’t need to compare her pain to anyone else’s. She had her own kind of strength. And so did each of the boys.
They had each other. And that mattered more than anything. As sleep finally claimed her, one last thought drifted through her mind: They'd be alright, the two of them. More than alright.
After all - they were Slytherins.
The common room's afternoon usual murmur died the moment Ella stepped through the door, pairs of eyes snapped towards her, then quickly away. Her brows furrowed, something was wrong.
Then she saw Matthew and Theo slumped in their usual corner, their shirts rumpled, lips split, and knuckles raw. "Bloody hell," Ella breathed, rushing over. "What happened?"
The boys exchanged a glance, silent for a beat too long. Matthew finally spoke, his voice low, laced with controlled fury.
“It’s those Slytherins and Hufflepuffs."
Theo scoffed, his lip curled in disgust. “Come on, Ella. You think we don’t hear things?"
Matthew winced as he shifted position. "Ran into Flint and his lot near the greenhouses," he said, voice tight with pain but eyes blazing. "Had a... disagreement about their treatment of our princess."
Theo grinned through split lips. "Turns out Hufflepuffs throw punches like they're tossing bouquets at a wedding. Pathetic, really."
Ella's hands flew to her mouth. "You absolute idiots! You could've been seriously hurt!" Her voice cracked. "Why didn't you just hex them?"
"Where's the fun in that?" Matthew flexed his bruised fingers with a hiss. "Sometimes a good old fashioned punches sends a clearer message than any spell."
Theo nodded, wincing immediately. "Besides, Draco and Lorenzo handled the magical side. We took care of the... physical."
Ella's vision blurred, without thinking, she pulled them both into a hug, ignoring their yelps of protest.
"Oi! Watch it!" Matthew gasped, but patted her back awkwardly.
Theo gasped, "Death by hug! What a way to go..."
Ella released them, swiping at her eyes. "You're both absolute idiots," she sniffed.
The common room's chatter gradually resumed, though now laced with new respect. Whatever message the boys had sent, it had been received loud and clear.
No one messes with their princess.
And as any proper Slytherin knew family protects its own.
Draco and Lorenzo stepped into the common room.
Lorenzo’s eyes immediately caught sight of the bruises on the boys. He sighed, brows knitting in concern as he strode over, wand already in hand, someone far too accustomed to patching up his reckless friends. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake…” he muttered, his wand moved in precise arcs as he muttered healing spells under his breath
Draco remained unnervingly still, his eyes fixed on Ella. “I want you to know,” he said, voice low but firm, “what they did to you… it’s unacceptable. They won’t touch you again,” he continued. “I won’t tolerate anyone messing with my friends.”
“Thank you, Dray,” she said quietly, a smile tugging at her lips. Lorenzo straightened up, eyeing his handiwork critically. "Next time, perhaps try not to headbutt a bloke twice your size, Theo."
Theo grinned, rubbing his newly healed eye. "Where's the fun in that?"
Then Ella clapped her hands suddenly. “Right! As a thank-you to my lovely knights…” She grinned mischievously. “Cookie party!”
Matthew perked up instantly. “YES. Chocolate chip. No—wait...”
Theo leaned forward. “Can we try those cinnamon ones again? The ones that nearly set the oven on fire?”
“Only if you’re not the one baking them,” Ella said, giggling.
They started talking about all the different kinds of cookies they could make, their laughter bubbled through the room.
From that day on, Marcus Flint and his cronies would abruptly change direction when Ella appeared in corridors. They barely looked at her, let alone sneered or mocked her.
It was like a weight had been lifted one she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying for so long.
In the weeks that followed, her friendships with Matthew, Draco, Lorenzo, and Theo deepened like roots settling in rich soil.
Lingering after meals in the Great Hall, laughing as Theo attempted to balance biscuits on Matthew's nose. Bringing her homework to the Quidditch pitch, cheering as Draco executed increasingly daring dives during practice. And when nightmares struck, there was always Lorenzo with his endless supply of peppermint tea and ridiculous facts he read about.
Ella finally felt the castle's ancient stones embrace her. The dungeons felt safe - a serpent's den where she belonged. She'd found her nest among these unlikely companions: the posh prince, the gentle healer, the trouble makers who'd taken punches for her.
At breakfast, she caught Marcus Flint flinching away from her gaze and nearly spilled her pumpkin juice laughing. The bullies' fear tasted sweeter than chocolate cake.
The nickname "Slytherin Princess" started to catch on around the whole school. At first, it had been whispered with a sneer, meant to mock but now, it carried weight.
Students took notice of the way Ella carried herself: poised, graceful, with long black hair that always seemed perfectly in place and eyes that held their own kind of quiet fire. Her features were delicate, elegant the kind you might see in an old painting and her presence, somehow, demanded attention without asking for it now.
More than her looks, it was the way her friends stood around her fiercely protective. Whether it was Draco’s sharp glare, Theo’s quiet presence, Matthew’s unspoken attentiveness, or Lorenzo’s thoughtful care, they treated her like someone precious. And so the nickname stuck The Slytherin Princess.
Ella finally felt like she had found her place at Hogwarts.
Notes:
AND THAT'S A WRAP, YOU MAGICAL WEIRDOS!
And there you have it Lorenzo, our supposedly quite sane king, finally dropping his tragic backstory like it’s nothing.
Who needs a hug more? (Lorenzo or you after reading this? I cried a lot lets just say writing it for the first time and again editing it.)
Predictions: Will he ever stop pretending he’s fine? (Spoiler: No.)
THIS CHAPTER RANDOM CHAPTER QUESTION:
If you had a Hogwarts pet, what would it be? I think I'm getting a cat or if I can a unicorn because why ?The next one will be the end of her first year, I’m vibrating with excitement for Year 2. At first, I had zero plan for it, but then the plot spirit whispered nonsense into my brain, and now I’m obsessed with year 2 I just loved it.
See you in the actual Year 1 finale!With love, chaos, and and a questionable amount of daydreaming.
– [Elaf Mohammed/Buttercow]
Chapter 11
Notes:
Hello, lovely weirdos, Potterheads and daydreamers! 🧙🏽♀️
CHAPTER 11 IS HERE!!!WE MADE IT - the final chapter of Ella's first year!
But before we jump ahead - let's take a moment to appreciate Ella making it through Year 1.
Yes my friends, this closing chapter is a little snack-sized compared to my usual word count,
but heyyyy in the upcoming chapters especially around her third year is going to be like seriously alotttttt, that's when this fic evolves from "fun Hogwarts" to "wooooh, who are you and Where did the fluff go?"Hope you like this chapter.🌹
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The library became Ella and Nancy’s second home. The two girls would claim their usual table, when final exams approached, books spread out across the table, parchment notes piling high between them.
Ella was surprised by how much she enjoyed it, not just the studying, but the company, and she was glad it's Nancy.
"I swear, if I have to diagram one more..." Nancy would mutter. "At least it’s not Potions." Ella would groan back, rubbing her temples. It made the long hours of revision feel a little less exhausting.
Draco and Lorenzo were always the first to arrive at the library. They moved through the library with the effortless confidence of top students. Their study habits were intense and structured, and they didn’t tolerate distractions easily.
Matthew and Theo, on the other hand, arrived like a minor natural disaster, laughing loudly, shoving each other, and inevitably earning a sharp "Shhh!" from Madam Pince.
"I don’t see why we can’t just wing the History of Magic exam," Theo would declare, flopping into a chair. "It’s all just Goblin rebellions and wizards being tragically noble sometimes awfully stupid. How hard can it be?"
Draco would glare at him with a look it could kill. "Because, you absolute poor fish, Binns takes off points for creative answers. And by creative, I mean wrong."
Lorenzo, would already be sliding a precise study guide toward them. "Just read this. It’s barely two feet of parchment."
Matthew would groan. "That’s too many."
Yet somehow, whether Draco’s threats, or Lorenzo’s patient explanations, they would buckle down. And Ella, watching from her corner, couldn’t help but marvel at the way they balanced each other.
Even with their own studies and the extra work of keeping Matthew and Theo on track, both Draco and Lorenzo always made time for her. They’d glance over at her notes, offer quiet advice, or help her review tricky spells.
Even Matthew and Theo, would toss her encouraging grins. "You’ve got this, Princess," Theo would say, throwing a chocolate at her head. "If we can survive this, you’ll do it with more grace than us."
And in those moments, surrounded by ink-stained hands and whispered debates, she glanced around at the boys nearby —scattered in their usual rhythm of study and banter — and felt something warm settle in her chest.
She wasn’t just studying magic.
She was living it. In the way friendship could turn a library into a sanctuary. In the way four stubborn boys had become her unlikely supports.
Ella felt the sweat trickling down her back as she sat at her desk, struggling to concentrate. The heat in the large exam hall didn’t help, dozens of students hunched over parchment, the only sound the scratch of quills and the occasional nervous cough.
She glanced down at her bag, where Snape’s special quill lay unused. Of course they’d confiscate all personal writing tools for exams. She should have known.
It could capture her thoughts with fluid clarity, something she had come to rely on in her studies. She sighed, frustrated. Her mind buzzed with ideas, half formed answers, and flickers of doubt.
Glancing around the hall, she caught sight of Draco four rows ahead, his posture perfect, his hand moving smoothly. Lorenzo was closer to the front, looking serene as always, paused only to fix his hair. Theo and Matthew were somewhere off to the side, hunched like goblins, probably chewing the ends of their quills by now.
Ella wiped her palms on her robes and forced herself to focus.
She could almost hear Draco’s voice in her head: "Don’t overthink it. Just answer the question."
Or Lorenzo’s patient reminder: "If you know it, write it. If you don’t, move on and come back."
Even Theo and Matthews’s last suggestion "Worst case, just doodle a moon and hope for partial credit."
A small, smile tugged at her lips. She adjusted her grip on the quill and kept writing.
By the time the exam ended, her fingers were stained with ink and her neck ached from tension, but her parchment was full.
As she handed it in, she caught Snape’s gaze. His expression was unreadable, but he gave the slightest nod almost approving.
Ella straightened her shoulders and walked out into the cooler hallway, where her friends were already waiting.
Theo groaned dramatically. "I’m never taking another exam again. I’ve decided."
Matthew elbowed him. "You say that every time."
Draco rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, which meant he’d probably aced it. Lorenzo just smiled at Ella a silent Well? How’d it go?
Ella took a deep breath and grinned.
"Let’s just say... I’m glad it’s over."
After the written exams came the practicals and somehow, they felt even more intense.
Professor Flitwick stood at the front of his classroom, beaming with excitement as he called them in one by one. Make a pineapple tap dance across a desk. It sounded ridiculous until you were standing there, wand in hand, with Flitwick watching you like a proud but extremely critical grandfather.
Ella stepped up when it was her turn, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. She pointed her wand at the pineapple, whispered the incantation, and... the pineapple gave a tiny hop.
No, no, no. Dance! she thought desperately.
Her pineapple wobbled upright, took two shaky steps, then tipped over like a drunkard, "Partial credit," Flitwick chirped. "At least it didn’t attempt escape."
In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall’s sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing. The task: turn a mouse into a trinket box.
Ginny Weasley transformed her mouse into a delicate silver trinket box adorned with red vines—earning an approving nod. "Excellent precision, Ms. Weasley."
When Ella’s turn came she was very nerves how she could do better than that, but she waved her wand and her mouse turned to a delicate and silver, embossed with roses trinket box. No whiskers. No tail. She wasn’t sure how, but she got it right.
Then came Potions.
Snape’s practical exam was the most dreaded. The classroom smelled like overboiled toadstools and nerves. He glided between the students like a specter. His breath was practically on Ella’s neck as she carefully stirred her Forgetfulness Potion, he murmured, voice like cold mist. “Of course, you wish to erase the examiner’s memories of your failure.”
She didn’t flinch. Not this time. She adjusted her stir, and held her breath as the potion turned the correct shade of misty blue. Snape gave the barest of nods and moved on.
When all was said and done, they staggered out of the last exam like survivors of battle.
On the last day of exams, Ella couldn't wait for the day to end. She was tired and ready for a break. So, as soon as her exam was over, Ella rushed out of the classroom and made her way to the third floor, where the second-year students were finishing up their exams.
Draco, ever the picture of aristocratic ease, was inspecting his nails while Theo dramatically recounted his "near-death experience" with McGonagall. Lorenzo shook his head, amused, and Matthew was egging Theo on with exaggerated gasps.
Then Matthew spotted her. "There she is!" Throwing his arms wide. "The Princess herself, victorious!"
Lorenzo rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress his grin. "You look like you’ve just survived the Triwizard Tournament. What’s first on your mind now that you’re free?"
"Sleep for a week," Draco drawled before she could answer, examining her dark circles with a smirk. "Merlin knows you need it."
Theo groans. "Sleep? Boring. We should raid the kitchens, charm Filch’s shoes to sing, and—"
Ella laughed. "I don’t even know where to begin!" Her eyes sparkled with possibilities, “I want to bake cookies, drink iced pumpkin juice, and maybe even sneak into the Astronomy Tower at night just to stargaze. But I'm sure we all deserve a treat after exams, and it would be a great way to celebrate Draco's birthday!"
"Let's go!" she said, and the group set off towards the kitchens.
"Chocolate. Obviously," Matthew declared, already reaching for a bag of cocoa powder. "Ugh, no," Ella groaned, snatching the cocoa away. "It's June. We need something light, lemon with fresh berries!"
Lorenzo wisely took a step back as Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "Must we turn this into a diplomatic incident? It's my birthday. I should—"
"COOKIES!" Theo shouted, legs swinging. "Imagine: warm chocolate chunks, gooey centers—"
"That's not a cake!" Draco snapped.
The house elves peeked nervously from behind mixing bowls as the argument escalated, until Squeaky, cleared his throat.
“Is Master Malfoy birthday, yes?" he squeaked. "Perhaps he should be choosing?"
Silence fell. Four pairs of eyes turned to Draco.
He straightened his robes with an air of finality. "Blueberry. With chocolate."
Theo opened his mouth to protest—
"Okay, blueberry chocolate cake it is," Ella declared, already rolling up her sleeves. "Now, let's get started before Theo eats all the ingredients!"
As the warm, sugary scent of baking cake filled the Hogwarts kitchen, the group fell into an easy rhythm of playful teasing and laughter.
Ella wiped her hands on her apron and turned to Theo. “Alright, since you were about to complain about the flavor, you’re on frosting duty.”
Theo threw his hands up. “Oi! I didn’t say anything!”
Draco smirked. “Yet. But we all heard your inhale.”
“I was just breathing,” Theo huffed, grabbing the bowl of butter and sugar. “Fine. But I’m putting extra icing on my slice.”
Matthew leaned on the counter beside Squeaky, who was stirring something bubbling in a copper pot. “So, Squeaky, who’s the best cook in the kitchens?”
Squeaky puffed up proudly. “Squeaky, of course! But Mistress Ella is getting very good. She whisk like a French elf!”
Ella laughed. “High praise coming from you, Squeaky.”
“Very high,” Lorenzo said, pretending to write in an invisible notebook.
Squeaky bustled about, offering tips between juicy bits of kitchen gossip, they all listened with rapt attention, their earlier bickering forgotten as Squeaky's gossip, they might have been friends their whole lives rather than just a school year.
Squeaky's ears suddenly stiffened. "Oh no!" he shrieked, pointing a finger at the oven window.
Chaos erupted. Ella lunged for the oven mitts while Theo nearly fell of his chair as he went after Ella. Matthew's quick "Wingardium Leviosa!" saved the cake as it floated from the smoking oven.
There was a dark golden crust around the edges where blueberries peeked through like little purple bruises.
"Nothing a bit of icing can't fix," Ella said, after the cake cooled, With the practiced hand of someone who'd decorated many a childhood birthday cake, Ella spread the glossy icing in smooth.
The slightly charred edges were cleverly hidden beneath smooth swirls of rich chocolate icing and strategically placed blueberries. Ella even added a dusting of powdered sugar and a few mint leaves for decoration. The final result looked so good, you’d never guess they’d nearly set it on fire.
The cake balanced carefully in Ella's arms, they made their way down to the Black Lake as the sun dipped low in the sky. It had become a tradition for them to celebrate their birthdays together at the Black Lake. It was a special place for them, a place where they could relax and be themselves.
Matthew leaned in, pretending to inspect it seriously. “I declare this cake… edible.”
Theo snorted. “Edible? This is a masterpiece.”
Draco made his wish (something undoubtedly petty, given his smirk) and blew out the candles, he cut the first slice and handed it to Ella. “For the chef.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” she said proudly, taking a bite. Her eyes lit up. “Okay—burned edge or not, this is really good.”
The others quickly helped themselves to slices, and soon the room was filled with happy munching and muffled praise.
“Mmm, I take back every bad thing I’ve ever said about blueberries,” Theo muttered with his mouth full.
Lorenzo raised his slice. “To Ella, our Slytherin Princess and now official royal baker.”
They all raised their cake slices in mock cheers. “Long may she bake!” Matthew called.
After the cake, Theo dared Matthew to jump into the lake with all his clothes on—and, of course, Matthew did. Theo followed, and soon enough, they were all wading in, clothes soaked and laughter echoing off the trees. Ella splashed Lorenzo when he tried to stay dry, and he waved his wand sending a wave over her.
Draco smirked, stretching out on the grass with the relaxed confidence of someone who definitely triple-checked every answer. “Right then,” he drawled, stretching like a self-satisfied cat. “Shall we assess the academic carnage, or are we pretending exams didn’t happen? Well, I’m sure I aced them. Especially the written ones. You lot really ought to learn the joy of outlining an essay properly.”
Lorenzo leaned back on his elbows, raising an eyebrow. “He says that like he didn’t rewrite his Transfiguration answer three times.”
Draco shot him a look. “Perfection requires effort.”
Ella snorted, tossing grass at him. “Easy for you to say, Mr. Top-of-the-Class. The rest of us were fighting for our life there.”
Matthew groaned, his face in his hands. “Merlin’s pants, I wrote three feet on wand legislation in Sweden before realizing it was meant to be Scotland.”
Theo, flat on his back with an arm slung over his eyes, chimed in: “At least you didn’t invent twelve new rune symbols like I did.”
Draco rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t pop out. “You’re all being ridiculous. We studied for weeks. Even Theo’s scrambled-egg brain must’ve remembered something useful.”
“Easy for you to say, you walking textbook,” Theo shot back, lobbing a rock at him.
Lorenzo, plucked a wildflower from the grass and twirled it between his fingers. “What he means,” he said, nodding at Draco, “is that you’re worrying over nothing. Matthew, Sweden’s wand laws are practically identical to Scotland’s. And Theo…” He paused. “Well, you did make those runes look convincingly ancient.”
Draco laughed, a rare and warm sound. “Come on, you all did better than you think. And anyway, the practicals carry weight too, and we all aced it.”
The tension over exams began to melt away as they teased and reassured one another.
Theo's legs kicked absently at the lake's edge, "Do you think Fluffy still there?" he said, as casually as one might ask about the weather. "That three-headed must be lonely up there."
Ella's nose scrunched in thought. "Dumbledore wouldn't just... dispose of him, would he?"
"Merlin's beard, I hope not," Matthew chimed in, "Terrifying? Absolutely. But there is something oddly charming about the way all three heads would drool in unison."
Draco made a sound of utter disgust. "You've gone mad. That beast wasn't 'charming'—it’s a walking danger."
Theo's eyes lit up. "We should—"
"No." Lorenzo didn't even look up from the grass he was charming into a miniature sneak. "Not even as a dare."
"It's not worth the trouble." Draco agreed, though his smirk suggested he'd considered it.
Theo slumped dramatically. "You're all no fun. Imagine the look on his faces—all three of them—if we brought snacks!"
Matthew's shoulders shook with silent laughter, and the two locked eyes in that particular way that promised future mischief. Fluffy would be visited before year's end.
Ella caught the exchange and pointed her wand between them like. "Not a chance," she said, "If I have to hex both your legs together to keep you from that corridor, I will."
"Fine, fine," Theo said, rolling his eyes.
"Watch this," Ella said, changing the topic with a grin, twirling her wand. "Expecto Rosae!"
A beautiful red rose appeared in mid-air, floating above her head. She waved her wand again, and a red rose appeared above each of their heads. The roses hovered there, spinning slowly.
The roses darkened at the edges, the red bleeding inward until the entire flower turned black as polished obsidian. An eerie shimmer danced along the petals like starlight on ink.
"Blimey!" Matthew gasped, reaching up to brush his fingertips against the floating bloom. "It's warm!" The petals quivered at his touch, leaning into his hand.
Draco arched an eyebrow. "It's called magic, Matthew. We do attend a school for it."
The others burst into laughter as Draco's rose danced gracefully in a spin under his attention, twirling in a haughty pirouette that perfectly mirrored its owner's demeanor.
"Where'd you learn that one?" Theo asked, trying and failing to catch his rose as it playfully dodged his grasp.
"Hermione taught me," Ella said, smiling at the memory of her patiently correcting her wand movements in the library.
Lorenzo's rose had twisted its stem around his finger like a vine. "Not surprising. Granger's possibly the brightest witch of our year."
"The brightest what now?" Draco scoffed, "She's just—The other two smartest are obviously me and Enzo," Draco declared, ran his hand through his hair with practiced arrogance. His rose straightened proudly, as if agreeing with the assessment.
Theo pretended to gag. "Merlin's pants, your ego's so big even your flower's affected!"
Ella dissolved into laughter, the black roses above them shimmering in harmony with their mirth. "So let me get this straight - my best friends are the three biggest smart heads in second year?"
The enchanted roses floated above them like a personal halo. Draco tilted his head back, watching his rose twirl lazily.
"I must say," he mused, "this is rather princely."
Theo snorted. "More like one of those dramatic old wizards from French tapestries," he said, stroking an imaginary beard. His rose dipped as if nodding in agreement.
Matthew grinned. "I feel like a knight from one of professor Binn’s tales," he declared, puffing out his chest. His rose shimmered approvingly.
Lorenzo reached up, letting the velvet-soft petals brush his fingertips. "It's like holding a piece of the night sky," he murmured. "Dark, but full of hidden light."
Ella laughed. "Merlin, Enzo, when did you become a poet?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "Ignore him. The real mystery is how you make it change the color like that?"
"That's the thing, I don't know. No matter what I try, the roses always turn black," Ella said, her brow furrowed in frustration. "I can't figure out why."
Ella stared at the inky bloom floating above her palm, its velvet petals drinking in the fading sunlight. "That's just it," she sighed, frustration creeping into her voice.
"Maybe it's your intention," Draco tilted his head, studying the rose with a practiced eye. "Maybe you're subconsciously wanting the roses to be black, so that's what they turn into."
"I don't think I want them black," she protested weakly.
Matthew nudged her shoulder. "Close your eyes this time. Really picture the color." Taking a steadying breath, Ella shut her eyes.
She imagined the brightest red she could. "Expecto Rosae!"
A gasp from Theo made her eyes fly open. For one glorious moment, a perfect scarlet rose hovered before her—then like ink spilled in water, the color drained away until only darkness remained.
Ella's shoulders slumped. "I just don't understand."
Theo squeezed her hand, his usual mischief replaced by rare sincerity. "Maybe your magic knows something you don't yet, Princess. Like you hair."
As if in agreement, the roses above them began to shimmer, their petals catching the golden sunset light in an otherworldly dance. The group fell into comfortable silence, watching the enchanted flowers pulse in time with their breathing.
Hours slipped away as they traded stories and laugh about all sorts of things.
When the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the lake in fiery hues, Ella sighed. "We should head back."
Reluctantly, they rose. The roses lingered a moment longer before dissolving into swirls of shadows.
"Till next time," Theo said, bowing dramatically to the empty air where his rose had been.
Draco rolled his eyes but offered Ella his arm. As they walked back to the castle, the scent of wildflowers trailing behind them, Ella couldn't help but glance back maybe the color didn't matter as much as the magic itself.
The Great Hall hummed with the warm chaos of the end-of-year feast. Golden platters piled high with roast chicken, steaming loaves of bread, and pumpkin pies glistening with caramelized sugar crowded the Slytherin table. The air was thick with laughter and the clatter of cutlery, and soon found themselves engrossed in conversation with their fellow students.
Ella, though surrounded by the lively chatter of her housemates, could barely keep her eyes open.
“I’m turning in early,” she announced, pushing back from the table. She said goodnight to her friends, then made her way up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.
As she lay in bed, half-asleep, Ella began to twirl her necklace between her fingers. It had become a quiet source of comfort and strength for her. without thinking, she reached for her wand.
“Expecto Rosae.”
She watched the tiny rose float gently in the air above her, mesmerized by its quiet beauty. It felt like a symbol of her growing magical ability. She smiled drowsily and drifted into a deep sleep, the little rose still floating above her head.
In her dreams, she was at the Black Lake again, surrounded by her friends. But this time, the roses above their heads weren’t black they shimmered in a rainbow of colors.
She swam through the water, laughing and playing with the others. The lake was filled with soft light, and the colors of the roses reflected off the surface.
This was magic. Not just spells, but this bond between them.
A voice, soft and familiar (Lorenzo’s? Her own?), whispered: “You’ll never be alone.”
And Ella believed it.
The next day was the last full day at Hogwarts. Ella woke up very late—there were no classes, after all—and slowly made her way down to the Slytherin common room, expecting to find her friends gathered around the fireplace like they usually were.
She frowned and checked the Great Hall, thinking they might’ve gone for breakfast, they weren’t there either.
With a growing sense of unease, she began searching the castle, her footsteps echoing in the quiet corridors. She asked a few passing students if they’d seen Draco, Theo, Matthew, or Lorenzo, but no one had any idea where they were.
Where could they be? She wondered, anxiety starting to grip her chest. Why wouldn’t they tell me where they’re going?
As she turned a corner, lost in thought, she nearly bumped into Hermione.
"Ella!" Hermione grabbed her wrist with surprising strength. "Thank Merlin, I’ve been looking everywhere for you."
Ella’s pulse spiked. "What’s wrong?"
Hermione didn’t answer. She pulled Ella into an abandoned classroom, before turning to face her.
"It’s about your friends," Hermione began, twisting her robes in her hands. "And—and Professor Quirrell."
Hermione hesitated, then said, “Harry, Ron, and I—we found out something. Professor Quirrell… he was possessed.”
Ella blinked. “Possessed?”
Hermione nodded, her voice trembling. “By You-Know-Who.”
Ella stared at her, stunned. The words barely registered. “But… He’s gone. How—how could he be possessing someone? A professor?”
"Not gone enough." Hermione’s voice was grim. "He’s been using him to try and steal the Philosopher’s Stone."
Hermione exhaled, as if she’d been holding her breath for hours. Then she started to explain, her voice hushed and urgent. She told Ella everything—how they discovered the truth about Fluffy, the trapdoor, the enchanted obstacles. The enchanted keys, the deadly chessboard, the potions riddle. How Harry went on alone. How he faced Quirrell. How You-Know-Who—not gone after all—had been sharing the Defense professor’s body.
Ella listened, frozen in place. She didn’t interrupt, she barely breathed.
At the end of her explanation, Hermione looked at Ella with pleading eyes. “I know you’re friends with Matthew, Draco, Theo, and Lorenzo… but I really think you should stay away from them,” she said softly. “I don’t want you caught up in it with them. Their families all had connections to You-Know-Who. Matthew… he’s his son.”
Ella felt something twist in her chest, for a moment, she couldn't speak.
“You don’t even know him, and you’re saying that just because he’s his son?” Ella's voice was low. "You think I don't know that? You think I haven't seen the way Matthew flinches when someone mentions his father or how the other talking behind him? How Theo won't talk about his uncle at all?"
Hermione opened her mouth, but Ella wasn't done.
"That troll, when it trapped us in the bathroom, who ran to help? Matthew did. Lorenzo didn't hesitate. They didn't stop to ask if you were worth saving." She took a step forward, her hands shaking. "So don't you dare tell me who they are based on their last names."
Silence.
"—but that doesn't make it any less real," Hermione said.
Ella exhaled, "You Don't Know Them Like I Do."
"I just..." Hermione's voice wavered. "... I've seen the way Draco treats Harry. The things his father—"
"Draco may be an arrogant prat and Theo's a menace, but they'd curse anyone who tries to hurt us.” Her hands trembled, "You judge them by their last names while I've seen their actual hearts."
For the first time since Ella had known her, Hermione Granger looked uncertain.
Hermione stared at her for a long moment, then slowly nodded. “Maybe I was being too judgmental,” she admitted. “But…”
“Please,” Ella interrupted firmly, “don’t ever ask me to abandon my friends again. They’ve done more for me here than anyone else has. I won’t walk away from them because of who their families are.”
Something in Hermione's expression shifted. She reached out, squeezing Ella's hand. "Then I won't mention it again. But promise me you'll be careful?"
Ella squeezed back. "Only if you promise to give them a chance."
A beat then Hermione nodded. Her expression softened. “I’m sorry. I just… I wanted to keep you safe" Her voice was quiet when she spoke again.
“I know,” Ella said, she stepped forward and hugged her.
Hermione returned the embrace. "If they make you happy," she said, swallowing hard before continuing, "then I'm happy for you." The words came slowly, as if each one had to be carefully considered before she said it.
Ella smiled, a rush of gratitude blooming in her chest. “Thank you, Hermione,” she said quietly. “That means a lot to me.”
When she pulled back from Hermione's embrace, her green eyes dark with concern. "I need to find them," she said urgently, already stepping away, Hermione just simply nodded.
Without wasting another second, Ella turned and ran through the corridors, her feet carried her instinctively toward the Black Lake. It was the only place she could think of where her friends might be.
As she got closer, she saw them but something was off. They weren’t laughing, or throwing rocks into the water, or arguing over whose shoes looked better. They were quiet. Too quiet. Their expressions were distant, heavy.
Ella slowed down, her breath catching in her chest.
"I've been looking everywhere for you!" she said, panting from her run. Her voice softened. “You all look upset.”
Matthew glanced at the others, then sighed. “It’s… complicated.”
Draco opened his mouth to speak, Ella cut straight to it. "You mean about Potter and Quirrell?"
Lorenzo exhaled shakily. Theo's head whipped toward Draco. Matthew's face drained of color.
"How do you—" Matthew began, then his expression darkened. "Weasley told you, didn't he? That—"
"Hermione," Ella corrected quietly.
A heavy silence fell. Somewhere across the lake, the giant squid created ripples that never seemed to reach shore.
Draco was the first to talk, his grey eyes glinting with something dangerous. "Granger," he spat the name. "Of course the know-it-all couldn't keep her mouth—"
"Stop." Ella's voice cut him as she sank onto the grass between them, her skirts pooling around her. “So… is that why you guys came out here without me?” Ella asked, a quiet sting in her voice. “Because you didn’t want me to know about your father?”
Matthew flinched. “Now that you know he’s still out there… are you going to sto—?”
His voice cracked before he could finish the sentence. He looked at her with wide, uncertain eyes, like he was bracing for something he couldn’t bear to hear.
She reached for his hand, her fingers closing around Matthew's trembling hand. The contact seemed to startle him, his calloused quidditch fingers cold against her palm.
"Matty," she said softly, "This changes nothing." The breath left Matthew's body in a shuddering exhale, his shoulders slumping forward as if a great weight had been lifted.
"We’re sorry we didn’t tell you right away," he admitted, running his free hand through his windswept hair. "We just—"
Lorenzo leaned forward, his dark eyes serious. "This isn't just about Matthew. All our families were in his inner circle." The unspoken name hung heavy in the air between them. "If he's truly returning..."
The sentence didn't need finishing. A chill ran through the group despite the warm evening air.
Matthew turned Ella's hand over in his, "You've already had the hardest year of any of us," he murmured. "The bullying, the nightmares... We wanted to protect you from this too."
Lorenzo nodded, his voice grave. "And now that the truth is out, some people won't understand why you still associate with us. There may be consequences—"
"Let them try," Ella interrupted, her grip tightening around Matthew's hand. "You four stood by me when no one else did. You think some petty rumors or even if turns out to be real could change that?"
Theo, unusually quiet until now, let out a low whistle. "Bloody hell, princess. When did you get so scary?"
A laugh burst from Ella's lips, breaking the tension one by one, the boys joined in.
Theo suddenly sat upright, his usual mischievous grin spreading across his face. "I've got it!" he declared, wiggling his pinky finger in the air. "We should make a pinky promise. A proper one - to always be honest and always have each other's backs, no matter how dark things get."
Ella smiled already extending her own pinky. Matthew's fingers joined hers without hesitation. Lorenzo's slender fingers completed the trio. "The Unbreakable Pinky Promise of Friendship," he said.
All eyes turned to Draco, who rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. "This is ridiculous," he muttered, but his pinky extended nonetheless, hovering awkwardly in the air.
The five friends stared at their pinkies, trying to figure out how to link them all together.
"How in Merlin's name..." Draco began, Theo's grin turned wicked. "I think we need to invent a new branch of magic for this. Five way pinky charm?"
Ella dissolved into giggles, the sound infectious. "This is hopeless!" she managed between laughs. "Maybe we should just hug instead?" already opening her arms.
In an instant, the awkward finger tangle collapsed into a tight knot of arms and laughter. Draco made a halfhearted protest but even he couldn't suppress his smile as the group swayed together by the lakeshore.
True loyalty wasn't about blind allegiance.
It was about seeing the worst in someone... and choosing to believe in their best anyway.
And Ella would choose her them—flaws and all—every single time.
As they stepped into the Great Hall for dinner after a long day by the lake, for a heartbeat, the chatter dimmed as they stood in the entrance. Ella walked at the center of an unspoken formation - Lorenzo and Theo behind her, Matthew at her left, Draco at her right. The torchlight caught the emerald trim of their robes, making the silver serpent badges gleam.
Ella felt the weight of hundreds of eyes upon them. The whispers through the hall like living things "They say her lot knew about Quirrell..."
"Look at them walking in like they own the castle..."
But with each step forward, Ella's spine straightened further, with her friends presence around her. For the first time, she understood what true Slytherin power felt like - not the petty of being bullies, but this certainty that came from knowing exactly who stood with you.
Matthew's shoulder brushed against hers, "Heads are turning," he murmured.
"Let them look," Draco drawled from her other side, his voice dripping with upper-class disdain. His grey eyes swept the hall with calculated indifference, but Ella could feel the protective tension in his arm where it nearly touched hers.
Theo, ever the jester, blew an exaggerated kiss to a group of gawking Hufflepuffs. "Enjoy the view, loves!"
Ella smiled to herself, this wasn't the bullied girl who'd entered Hogwarts months ago.
As they reached the Slytherin table, the whispers continued but as platters of roast pheasant and honey-glazed vegetables made their rounds, the tension in the hall gradually melted into end-of-year joy.
When the pudding appeared, great golden bowls of trifle and towers of chocolate eclairs. Ella caught Hermione's eye across the hall, she gave a small, hesitant smile. Ella returned it with a nod, then deliberately turned back to her friends, where Theo was attempting to balance three custard tarts on a first year head.
The Great Hall was already, cloaked in the proud green and silver, Slytherins were grinning, laughing, some already boasting loudly about their perfect streak.
Then Dumbledore stood. "Another year gone!" he said, his voice warm and full of mischief. "What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts."
Laughter rippled through the hall.
"Now, as I understand it, the House Cup needs awarding..." Dumbledore paused dramatically. "In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points..."
The Gryffindor table slumped.
"In third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two."
Polite clapping from the yellow table.
"Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six..."
Some proud cheering from the blue one.
"...and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."
A storm of celebration erupted around Ella. Slytherins were stomping their feet, clapping, whistling. Theo threw an arm around Ella’s shoulder and ruffled her hair, and Draco smirked smugly.
"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However... recent events must be taken into account."
Silence.
The joy deflated like a popped balloon. Faces turned, glances exchanged.
"Ahem," Dumbledore continued, Theo muttered, “Here it comes.”
"First to Mr. Ronald Weasley..." Dumbledore’s voice carried through the hushed hall. "...for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years: fifty points."
Some gasps. Cheers exploded from the Gryffindor table. Ella leaned toward Draco and Lorenzo, smirking. "I bet you two could beat him at chess."
"But you two?" She pointed at Matthew and Theo. "You’d beat him in a real fight."
Theo barked a laugh, but it died in his throat as Dumbledore continued.
"To Miss Hermione Granger… for cool logic in the face of fire… fifty points."
Gryffindor’s cheers were deafening. Ella exchanged a glance with Lorenzo. "They’re a hundred points up now," she muttered.
"To Mr. Harry Potter… for pure nerve and outstanding courage… sixty points."
Gryffindor burst into wild celebration. Lorenzo’s voice was low. "Now we’re tied."
Ella crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed toward the head table. "And finally..." Dumbledore looked over the sea of faces. "...to Mr. Neville Longbottom. For showing that sometimes, the hardest courage is standing up to our friends: ten points."
The uproar was instant. The Gryffindors shot to their feet, roaring. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who had nothing in this joined in, if only to see Slytherin dethroned.
Dumbledore clapped his hands.
Green became scarlet.
Silver became gold.
The serpent vanished, replaced by a roaring Gryffindor lion.
Snape’s jaw twitched as he shook Professor McGonagall’s hand. His smile looked like it had been carved from stone.
The Slytherin table was a sea of betrayal and disbelief. No one cheered. No one moved.
Pansy Parkinson’s mouth hung open. Blaise Zabini’s knuckles were white around his fork. Crabbe and Goyle looked genuinely confused, as if the concept of losing was foreign to them.
Theo exhaled sharply. "Well. That’s bollocks."
Draco’s face was stone. "Last minute points? That’s not how the game is played."
Lorenzo leaned back, clearly trying to keep calm, his jaw tight. "They just handed it to them."
Matthew muttered a curse under his breath.
Ella stared at the sea of red and gold, at Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, bathed in the adoration of the entire school. For the first time, she understood what it meant to be Slytherin.
Not just ambition.
Not just cunning.
But this this burning, clawing desire to prove them wrong.
The Slytherin common room was unusually subdued after the House Cup loss, Ella found Nancy curled up in an armchair by the fireplace, "Nancy!"
Nancy turned, surprise flashing across her face before it softened into a grin. She stood quickly and rushed over, pulling Ella into a tight hug.
"I'm going to miss you so much," Nancy whispered, her voice muffled against Ella's shoulder.
Ella squeezed her tighter. "Every week," she promised. "I'll flood your mailbox with letters. And you have to tell me everything about your summer, especially your practice for the try out for the Quidditch team like you've been talking about."
Nancy nodded, and the two girls sat down by the fire, deep in conversation, sharing memories and making plans.
Across the room, Theo made a show of dramatically draping himself over Matthew. "We've been replaced," he said.
Matthew elbowed him but kept glancing at the girls, Theo was halfway out of his seat, already grinning as he prepared to insert himself into Ella and Nancy's conversation, when Lorenzo's hand closed around his wrist. "Don't," Lorenzo said quietly, his dark eyes flicking toward the girls by the fire.
Theo blinked. "Why not? It's our last night too—"
Matthew paused mid-rise, as he followed Lorenzo's gaze. Ella was laughing at something Nancy said. “Not tonight,” he said quietly. “Ella hasn’t seen Nancy in a while, and you know how much she missed her. Let them have their night.”
“And besides..." He shot a meaningful glance toward Draco, who was pretending very hard not to watch the scene, his nose buried in a book. "...not all of us are particularly pleasant company for her."
A muscle jumped in Draco's jaw. "Not our fault the girl's got terrible taste in company." he muttered. “it’s not like we’re exactly fans of Nancy anyway.”
“yeah,” Lorenzo muttered. “Let’s just enjoy a peaceful night, huh?”
Matthew sighed and nodded, sinking into the sofa beside Theo.
Theo exhaled dramatically. "Fine. But if I die of boredom tonight, I'm haunting you first, Enzo."
Lorenzo smirked, "I'd expect nothing less."
And so the boys kept their distance, though Ella caught Matthew's lingering gaze more than once.
The next day, Ella woke up with a heavy weight on her chest, it was the last day at Hogwarts, and soon she would be returning to the orphanage. No enchanted ceilings. No secret passageways. No boys being dramatic over cookies.
She had loved her time at Hogwarts—despite the rough start—and the idea of leaving it behind tugged painfully at her heart. She wished she could stay there forever, surrounded by the magic of the castle and the comfort of her friends.
She got dressed slowly and made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast. The hall was buzzing with chatter and laughter, students sharing plans for the summer. But Ella couldn’t bring herself to join in. She sat quietly at the Slytherin table, lost in thought.
Just as she was beginning to feel the sadness sink in deeper, Draco slid into the seat next to her his shoulder bumping hers. "You look like someone stole your favorite quill."
Ella's lips twitched despite herself. "I’m going to miss you all so much,” she said.
“You’ll survive,” Draco smirked, nudging her gently. “Barely, maybe. But you’ll survive. We’ll write to each other all the time. It'll be like you never left… except with worse food."
"Yeah," Theo added, scooting in. "We'll write you every day if you want. Or every hour. Depends how clingy you're feeling. I’ll even draw you pictures. Terrible ones."
"Even if you just want to write ‘Hi’ and cry into the parchment," Lorenzo said, giving her a grin. "We’ll take it."
Ella’s eyes started to well up again. “Okay,” she squeaked.
Matthew raised a brow. “You really are a crybaby, aren’t you?”
“I am NOT—” Ella began, before her voice cracked mid-sentence.
“Two months will fly by,” Matthew said, trying to be comforting through his teasing. “You’ll blink and suddenly be back here getting into trouble with us all over again.”
Ella nodded quickly, wiping her eyes. “I’ll try not to cry, I promise.”
“You’re literally crying right now,” Draco pointed out, watching her with amused affection.
“Shut up,” she sniffled.
“That’s the spirit!” Theo grinned. “Now eat your orange. Crying makes you tired, and you’re going to need energy for the train.”
Ella let out a choked laugh and obediently took a bite of the orange.
And as they all began teasing her about saving her tears for the train ride, she couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe she could survive two months away from them. With a lot of letters. And maybe a small waterproof charm for her parchment.
On the journey back to London, the compartment was alive with laughter and chatter as they reminisced about the past year and made plans for the summer.
Stories and jokes flew between them, making the journey feel far too short. They made promises about letters, and everything they'd do once they were back at Hogwarts.
Before they knew it, the train hissed to a stop at King’s Cross Station.
Ella stepped onto the platform, her eyes scanning the crowd. Almost immediately, she spotted Draco’s parents waiting nearby.
Narcissa gave her a graceful wave, and Lucius nodded politely. Ella waved back with a smile.
Matthew hugged her first, holding on a moment longer than usual. “Write to me, crybaby,” he said softly.
Then Draco stepped up, and Ella threw her arms around him. He hugged her tightly, "Don’t forget me the second you get back to your dusty little room,” he murmured.
“As if I could,” she said with a small smile.
The two of them walked over to Draco’s parents together, and Ella gave them a polite goodbye before stepping back to search for the other.
Nearby, Theo’s face fell the moment he spotted his uncle tall, sharp-featured, and glaring like he already found something wrong. Ella leaned in.
“Is that him?” Theo gave a dry nod. “Unfortunately.”
“Are you going to be okay?” she asked, concern clear in her voice.
Theo gave a short, hollow laugh. “I’ll be fine,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “Summer’s just... something to get through.” He hugged her quickly but tightly. “You better write me.”
“I will,” Ella promised, he held her hand a second longer before walking toward his uncle, shoulders stiff, watching him walk toward his uncle like he was heading into battle.
Lorenzo stood off to the side, clearly alone. “Where’s your father?” Ella asked gently.
“He never comes,” Lorenzo muttered. “Always sends someone else.”
Ella could tell he hated it, “It’s okay,” he said, shrugging. “I’m used to it.”
He looked so distant, like he was already locking himself back inside. “Write me a lot, okay?” she said, hugging him. “Yeah,” he replied softly, trying to smile.
Then, cutting through the noise of the crowd, a familiar voice called out— "Ella!"
Ms. Jones weaved toward her, her black dress neat as ever, her smile warm. But her eyes widened as she took in Ella’s longer hair. "Wow!" she exclaimed, reaching out to touch the strands. "This is quite the change! Did you do this?"
Ella nodded with a shy smile. “I guess you could say that.”
Ms. Jones tilted her head, smiling. “It’s certainly different… but it suits you.”
As they turned to leave, Ella glanced back at the platform. She caught a glimpse of Theo climbing into a car, his face unreadable but stiff, and Lorenzo being led away by a butler-looking man.
Neither of them smiled. Neither of them looked back.
Ella tightened her grip on her bag, her heart heavy. Hogwarts had been their home, not the places they were now returning to.
And already, she couldn’t wait to be back.
Ella’s days at the orphanage fell into a quiet, predictable rhythm, but tinged with longing. Each morning she took Lucy out to the garden and then slipped off to the library, Most of the other children never stepped inside, which suited Ella just fine, losing herself in books until lunchtime.
The afternoons were spent in the garden, her hands buried in the soil, sun on her back. There was something soothing about the work, the scent of earth and blossoms, the way the sunlight filtered through the leaves. Sometimes, she’d catch herself humming one of the silly tunes Theo always sang, and she’d laugh.
Evenings were Ella’s favorite. She’d sit near the stone fountain, Lucy curled beside her, and watch as the trees swayed gently in the breeze. The sound of the water trickling, the rustle of leaves, and the occasional hoot of an owl created a calm she cherished. Sometimes, just before nightfall, a shooting star would streak across the sky. Ella always made a wish. It was always the same.
She missed her friends, more than she’d ever expected, she caught herself daydreaming about them often wondering what they were doing, if they were thinking of her too.
She missed Draco’s dry wit, the way he always seemed to have a snarky comeback even in the most serious situations, she often caught herself imagining what sarcastic remark he’d make whenever she was faced with something ridiculous at the orphanage.
She missed Lorenzo’s calming presence, his thoughtful questions, and the way he listened more than he spoke. She wondered how he was doing, if he was still forced to carry himself like nothing hurt when deep down she knew his home wasn’t home for him.
She missed Matthew’s constant energy, the way he bounced between seriousness and goofiness without warning. She knew he was dealing with far more than he let on, especially now, with everything about his father out in the open.
And Theo she missed his oddly timed jokes, the way he got excited over the smallest things, and how he could lift the mood with a single exaggerated story or sarcastic eye roll. She wondered if he was okay too, if his summer had dulled that spark in him a little, especially under the roof of his uncle.
Each of them had carved a space in her heart, and being apart from them felt like missing pieces of herself.
Ella wrote to them constantly, sometimes with ink smudges from teary eyes, sometimes with excited scribbles about a book she read or a new flower she’d grown. She poured her heart into every letter, asking about their days. And in return, she received a steady stream of replies.
Draco’s letters were tidy and neat, full of biting remarks about his parents’ tedious social gathering, and how Matthew is annoying him, the way he wrote “Hope you’re not still crying over that awful garden of yours” made her laugh for hours.
Lorenzo’s were calming, filled with long thoughts, book recommendations, the music he was listening to, and gentle reminders to rest and take care of herself, and sometimes he included pressed flower petals in the envelope.
Matthew’s were chaotic and funny, often decorated with stick-figure drawings or random thoughts. One letter simply said, “I’m bored Draco is no fun anymore. Send help. Or cake.”
Theo’s were a mess of doodles and silly drawings, complaints about his uncle, and wild ideas for what they should do next year. He made her laugh out loud so often, but sometimes they were brief, as if he didn’t trust the words to stay private.
Some evenings, as she sat alone with her letters spread around her like a protective circle, Ella would think back on her first year at Hogwarts. How it began and how it ended.
She was different now, made friends, learned magic, she is not the Slytherin girl who didn’t quite belong.
As the stars blinked overhead and a breeze rustled the trees, she closed her eyes and made her wish again. This time, she whispered it into the night.
Let me see them soon. Let us stay friends forever.
Notes:
AND THAT'S A WRAP, YOU MAGICAL WEIRDOS!
Thank you for sticking with me through Year 1!QUICK LIFE UPDATE:
I’ll be taking a small break before Year 2 kicks off. Life is chaos, and I’ve ch 42 planned with different lines and ideas that are living rent free in my mind (send help or don't I'm enjoying this).BUT knowing me, I might also suddenly drop the next chapter way sooner than expected. My motivation is a stray cat, it comes when it wants, eats my attention, then leaves 100% of this fic exists because I had "a vibe" at inconvenient hour
With love, chaos, and and a questionable amount of daydreaming.
– [Elaf Mohammed/Buttercow]
Chapter 12
Notes:
Hello, lovely weirdos, Potterheads and daydreamers! 🧙🏽♀️
CHAPTER 12 IS HERE!!!MY LOVES. MY DARLINGS. I HAVE MISSED YOU. [dramatically throws self at your feet]
Life Update (The Trauma Dump):
First off, SORRY for vanishing - life has been Lifing at maximum.
Ch42 literally sucked my soul out through a straw (why did I write something that sad?? Who hurt me??)
Now I’m heading back to Sudan (no electricity yet, pray for me) so updates might be sporadic as hell.
TODAY’S A CHAPTER A cute little Year 2 starter chapter! (Consider it an apology hug in fic form)
Hope you like this chapter.🌹
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The morning Ella’s Hogwarts letter arrived, she nearly tore it open in her excitement. Second year at last! Her heart leapt at the thought of returning, She had been counting the days, marking each one with a small star in the back of her worn-out notebook.
She scanned the parchment eagerly—then paused, eyebrows slowly rising. There were quite a few required books for Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. That wasn’t surprising in itself—but what was strange was that all of them were written by the same person: Gilderoy Lockhart.
There was Gilderoy Lockhart’s Guide to Household Pests, Wandering with Werewolves, Holidays with Hags, Magical Me, and even one bizarrely titled Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Life.
Ella tilted her head. “Why do we need that for DADA?” she murmured, flipping the page.
Still the absurdity of it didn’t dampen her excitement. She hugged the letter to her chest, already imagining the trip to Diagon Alley. She would get her new supplies—books, parchment, and maybe a new set of quills—but more than anything, she couldn’t wait to see her friends again.
She imagined the way they’d walk together through the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, pointing out weird objects in shop windows, daring each other to taste strange Bertie Bott’s flavors, maybe sneaking off to test the latest brooms at Quality Quidditch Supplies. Ella hoped they’d stop at the Leaky Cauldron too—she could already picture Theo ordering far too much food, Matthew spilling pumpkin juice while trying to tell a story, Lorenzo quietly slipping a lemon tart onto her plate without saying anything, and Draco pretending to be unimpressed by everything but secretly enjoying every second.
She hadn’t realized just how much they had become part of her world, until the summer stretched long and quiet without them.
Ella tucked the Hogwarts letter under her pillow that night like a secret, unable to stop smiling. She would be back soon. Back to the castle, the corridors, the moving staircases. Back to late-night talks.
Her second year was waiting, and she was ready.
The next day, Ella and Ms. Jones made their way to Flourish and Blotts, the street was crowded with excited families and eager students, the air buzzing with chatter, owl hoots, and the occasional burst of magical sparks from a nearby wand demonstration.
The queue at Flourish and Blotts stretched nearly to the door, and Ella shifted from foot to foot, resisting the urge to groan. Ms. Jones had warned her it would be busy—”Back-to-school rush, darling”—but this was ridiculous.
To distract herself, Ella craned her neck, taking in the shop’s chaotic charm. A stack of Invisible Book of Invisibility copies teetered precariously nearby, and Ella smirked. Typical wizarding logic.
Gilderoy Lockhart, was standing at a table near the front of the store, a gleaming stack of his books beside him and a quill that wrote his signature by itself. His golden-blond hair was immaculately styled, his turquoise robes shimmered under the lights, and a wide, dazzling smile stretched across his face as he posed for picture after picture.
Ella stared in mild horror as she watched him dramatically pull a fan into a side hug for a photo, grinning as though he were on the cover of Witch Weekly. The shop floor around him looked more like a fashion show runway than a book signing. Ella’s nose wrinkled. Merlin’s beard, the man’s more peacock than person.
Then the crowd erupted into murmurs, Harry Potter stepped into view. The moment Lockhart’s eyes landed on him, his entire demeanor brightened even more, if that was possible.
“Harry Potter!” he exclaimed, loud enough for the entire shop to hear. “Ladies and gentlemen — look who we have here! The Boy Who Lived himself!”
Ella cringed.
The crowd gasped. Shutters clicked. Harry, trapped in Lockhart’s grip, looked like he’d rather face another Hungarian Horntail than endure this.
“Defeater of You-Know-Who! Hogwarts’ most famous student!” Lockhart continued, practically vibrating with self-satisfaction. “Why, it’s practically destiny that he should study from my books!”
Ella rolled her eyes so hard it nearly hurt. She couldn’t stand Gilderoy Lockhart — with his puffed-up ego, smug little smirk, and the way he practically sparkled under the shop lights. She had no patience for people who craved attention that badly. And as for Harry Potter, well… she supposed he was brave, sure. But the way other students constantly fawned over him made her stomach turn.
To her, Harry wasn’t a hero. He was just a regular kid who got very lucky — and now he was stuck being the face of something much bigger than himself. That didn’t mean she had to like him. And it definitely didn’t mean he needed Lockhart treating him like a prize-winning Niffler.
Ella shot one last glance at Harry, now edging toward the door with the desperation of a hunted animal. Lockhart was still prattling on.
Ugh. Second year’s going to be unbearable if this is the standard for Defence teachers.
Ms. Jones, much to Ella’s dismay, was utterly enamoured with Gilderoy Lockhart. She had devoured every one of his books, sighing over his “daring exploits” and “brilliant mind” as if he were some sort of wizarding Adonis, and spoke of him with the sort of admiration usually reserved for war heroes or famous composers.
To her, Lockhart was the complete package: charming, intelligent, impeccably dressed, and so very brave.
“Oh, Ella!” she whispered excitedly, gripping Ella’s shoulder. “That’s Harry Potter! The boy who defeated You-Know-Who! And he’s here—right now—getting books from Lockhart!”
Ella had to bite her tongue to keep from replying sarcastically. She didn’t want to ruin Ms. Jones's excitement, the shop was stifling—packed with chattering witches, flicking cameras, and the overwhelming stench of Lockhart’s cologne.
Ella’s patience was fraying by the second, her fingers tapping irritably against her arm.
Ms. Jones, ever perceptive, noticed. “Ella, love, why don’t you wait outside?” she suggested gently. “I’ll handle the queue.”
Ella gave her a grateful look. “Thank you, Ms. Jones,” she said with relief, squeezing past a stack of shimmering autobiographies and weaving her way through the sea of cloaks and squealing witches.
Outside, the air was crisp and cool, and Ella let out a long breath. Her irritation began to ease—until she spotted two familiar figures approaching from down the alley.
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, grins far too smug for her liking.
“Well, well,” Harry drawled, stopping right in front of her. “The Slytherin Princess, all alone. Where’s your royal guard? Did Malfoy finally get bored of you?”
Ella raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She just stared at them, unimpressed.
Ron snickered beside him. “Or maybe she got kicked out of the club.”
Ella’s jaw tightened, but she refused to let them see her rattled. Instead, she smirked. “Oh, I’m crushed,” she deadpanned. “Truly. But don’t let me keep you—wouldn’t want you to miss your next photo op with Lockhart. Though, Weasley...” She eyed Ron with exaggerated pity. “I doubt you’ll get many autograph requests maybe one by your mum.”
Ron’s ears turned violently red. “You—!”
“Ella!” Ginny cut in, stepping forward with a frown. “That was completely uncalled for.”
Ella crossed her arms. “They started it,” she shot back. “If they can’t take it, maybe they shouldn’t dish it out.”
“Looks like Potter’s finally found himself a girlfriend.”
Ella didn’t need to turn to know Draco had arrived—his voice alone dripped with enough sarcasm to drown Diagon Alley. He stepped up beside her, his smirk razor-sharp.
Lorenzo, shook his head in disdain. “And here I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be the noble ones. Ganging up on one person? That’s real heroic.”
Matthew cracked his knuckles, his grin all challenge. “If you lot really want a fight, try taking on all of us. Though—” He eyed Ron’s lanky frame. “—doubt you’d last long.”
Theo didn’t even bother with words. He simply moved to Ella’s other side, arms crossed, his glare enough to make Harry stiffen.
“Seems her knights are back,” Draco murmured, delighted.
Harry and Ron exchanged uneasy glances. Outnumbered and outmatched, they wavered—too proud to retreat, too smart to escalate.
Then, two voices rang out simultaneously.
“There you are!” Arthur Weasley said, addressing Harry, Ron, and Ginny. “I’ve been looking everywhere—what’s going on here?”
“Explain yourselves.” Lucius Malfoy’s icy tone cut like a blade, gliding into the scene like a shadow wrapped in elegance, Draco straightened instantly. “N-Nothing, Father,” he said, too quickly. “Just… talking.”
The two fathers locked eyes, the decades-old animosity between them thickening the air. Arthur’s jaw tightened; Lucius’s lip curled.
“Draco,” Lucius said softly, “Associating with the wrong sort can be... damaging.” His eyes raked over Arthur’s patched robes, the worn soles of his shoes. The unspoken insult hung in the air: poor. Worthless.
Arthur’s hands clenched, but before he could retort—
“Come along, boys.” Lucius flicked his fingers, as if shooing vermin.
Draco hesitated—just for a heartbeat—before reaching for Ella’s hand. “Let’s go,” he muttered, tugging her away.
As they turned, Ella caught Ginny’s furious glare, Ron’s muttered “Snakes,” and Harry’s unreadable expression. But it was Lucius’s voice, low and venomous, “Remember who you are, and who they are.”
As the group walked along behind Lucius Malfoy, a brief, uncomfortable silence settled between them. The noise and chaos of Diagon Alley seemed to muffle for a moment, leaving only the soft sound of footsteps on cobblestone. Ella glanced around, unsure what to say, until Draco broke the silence.
“We could tell they were picking on Ella,” Draco said, his voice unusually serious. “So we came to make sure she was okay.”
Lucius gave a short nod, eyes flicking to Ella with something that almost resembled approval. “Good,” he said simply.
Then, turning to Ella, Lucius asked, “Did you manage to get the book you needed?”
Ella shook her head. “Ms. Jones is actually still waiting in line for it,” she replied politely.
Then, she added, “Excuse me, but where is Mrs. Malfoy? Did she come with you, or is she elsewhere?”
“She’s purchasing a new tea set,” Lucius answered himself with a touch of pride. “Collecting fine china is her preferred hobby.”
“She takes it very seriously,” Draco added with a smirk. “We have an entire room for teapots.”
Without another word, Lucius reached into his robe and withdrew a small handful of glittering galleons. He handed them to Draco. “I have business to attend to. Enjoy yourselves — and try to stay out of trouble.” With a nod that dismissed them like chess pieces on a board, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
As soon as he was out of sight, Draco jingled the galleons in his palm with a grin.
“Right then,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Who fancies ice cream?”
Inside, the scent of sweet cream and sugar was almost dizzying. Glass cases displayed a rainbow of magical flavors. Ella and Theo locked eyes and grabbed their cones like it was a race.
“I bet I can finish mine before you!” Theo declared.
Ella, never one to back down from a challenge, “You’re on!” shot back, already biting into a scoop of strawberry starlight, matched Theo scoop-for-scoop in a race to finish first.
“Done!” she crowed, slamming her empty dish down—just as Theo did the same.
Their triumph lasted all of three seconds before the brain freeze hit.
“Merlin’s pants—” Theo gasped, clutching his temples. Ella groaned, forehead pressed to the table, as Draco and the others howled with laughter.
After they recovered, the group wandered over to Honeyduke. “Go on,” Draco said, tossing a galleon to the shopkeep. “One of everything.”
They spilled back into the sunlight, sticky-fingered and sugar-buzzed, just as Matthew spotted the brooms.
“Blimey—look at those!” He dashed to the window, nose nearly touching the glass. The new Nimbus 2002 gleamed under enchanted lights, its birch twigs polished to a shine.
Draco whistled. “Now that’s a proper broom.”
The shopkeeper, spotting easy targets, ushered them inside with a flourish. “Just in from Norway—unmatched acceleration, precision-tuned for—” They all trooped into the shop, immediately fawning over the displays. The boys were in heaven, testing the balance, grip, and charm engravings like broom connoisseurs.
Ella, meanwhile, leaned against a shelf, I hate flying, she thought. Absolutely hate it. Flying was about as appealing as a day with Lockhart, but she bit back a smile as Draco argued passionately about torque ratios with Theo.
After they’d exhausted every possible question about broomstick polish, they wandered off toward the Magical Menagerie, drawn in by the sounds of chirping, growling, and the occasional meow.
“Great Bouncing Toad, that one,” said the shopkeeper, adjusting his spectacles. “Rare as dragon’s teeth. Fancies blueberries, if you’re keen.”
As the others cooed over pygmy pufflings, Ella lingered by the toad, grinning when it ribbit-ed directly at her.
Draco appeared at her shoulder, wrinkling his nose. “Please tell me you’re not considering that for a pet.” “You would want a bouncing toad,” Theo said, shaking his head.
Ella's eyes wandered around the Magical Menagerie until they landed on a small display tucked near the corner — a pile of plush cat toys: jingling balls of yarn, tiny feathered birds on strings, and fluffy enchanted mice that wiggled when you poked them. A quiet smile spread across her face as she imagined Lucy, her cat back at the orphanage, happily swatting one of them around the floor.
Drawn by the thought, she walked over and picked up one of the soft, enchanted mice. It twitched slightly in her hand, its little pink nose wriggling. Ella giggled. Lucy would go absolutely mad for this.
“That's a very cute toy,” Draco said appearing at her shoulder. Before she could respond, he plucked it from her hands and strode to the counter.
“We’ll take this,” he told the shopkeeper, tossing a galleon onto the counter with a careless flick of his wrist.
Ella blinked. “You didn’t have to—”
“I know,” Draco interrupted, handing her the wrapped toy with a smirk. “But now Lucy will owe me her undying loyalty instead of you. Strategic move, really.”
Ella rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “… thanks.”
Theo’s voice rang out from across the shop. “You have to see this!” “Merlin’s beard,” Lorenzo said, grinning. “It’s a Niffler. Loves anything shiny, especially gold. Absolute menace, but clever as anything.”
The shopkeeper, a wizened old witch with spectacles perched on her nose, nodded. “Aye, that one’s a right little thief. Last week, he nicked my best teaspoon and hid it in the owl pellets. Took me hours to find it.”
Matthew and Theo exchanged glances, identical mischievous glints in their eyes. “Imagine turning one loose in Filch’s office,” Matthew muttered.
Ella pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. “It’s adorable,” she admitted. “Look at its little paws!”
“Adorable?” Draco arched a brow. “It’s a walking, digging, stealing disaster.”
As they finally tore themselves away from the Niffler’s antics, full of laughter, the group wandered through the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, the sun was warm on their backs.
They had almost passed the last row of shops when Theo slowed down near a narrow, shadowed street corner. “Hey…” he said, eyeing the street sign overhead. “Knockturn Alley.” His voice lowered like he’d just spoken a forbidden spell.
“Just for a quick look,” Matthew said, already taking a step forward. “Come on, it'll be fun. A bit of an adventure.”
“I heard there's a shop that sells shrunken heads,” Lorenzo added, wide-eyed.
Ella frowned, but her curiosity tugged at her. She had read about Knockturn Alley. Dark magic. Cursed objects. Banned books. She wasn't sure if she was brave or foolish for wanting to see it in person.
The group had barely taken two steps toward the shadowy entrance of Knockturn Alley when a voice like frozen silk cut through the air.
“And just where do you imagine you're going?”
They whirled around to find Narcissa Malfoy standing rigid as a wandmaker's ruler, her gloved hands clasped tightly in front of her.
“Well?” she pressed, one eyebrow arching. “I believe I asked a question.”
Draco was the first to recover barely. “We were just—that is—” His usual drawl abandoned, his voice several pitches higher than usual. “Curious, Mum. Only looking.”
“Looking.” Narcissa repeated the word as if it were a particularly vile flavor of Bertie Bott's bean. Her gaze swept over them like a searchlight, “A group of naughty children,” she mused, stepping closer.
The click of her heels on the cobbles sounded like a countdown to doom. “Snooping where they don't belong. How... predictable.”
Lorenzo opened his mouth perhaps to protest, perhaps to beg for mercy but Narcissa's glare silenced him before he could make a sound.
“Knockturn Alley,” she said, each syllable sharp as a dagger, “is not a playground. It is a den of thieves, dark artifacts, and wizards who would cheerfully vanish a group of reckless schoolchildren for the contents of their pockets.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Or worse.”
Theo felt his stomach twist. He'd heard stories, of course—whispers of cursed objects that clung to your skin, of backroom deals sealed with unbreakable vows.
“We're sorry,” Ella blurted out, her fingers worrying the edge of Lucy's toy. “We didn't think—”
“No,” Narcissa cut in, “you didn't.” She drew herself up, the silver embroidery on her robes glinting like a warning. “This is your one pardon. The next time—” Her gaze locked onto Draco, who shrunk under it. “—there will be no leniency. Am I understood?”
A chorus of mumbled “Yes, Mrs. Malfoy”s followed.
With a final, withering look, Narcissa turned on her heel.
“I would like you to come with me, Ella,” she said, her voice now warm as spiced cider. “I spotted something that belongs to you.”
Ella blinked, startled by the shift in tone, then quickly walked to Narcissa's side. As they exited the alley, the boys huddled in a quiet whisper behind them.
“Merlin's pants,” Matthew breathed, mopping his brow. “That was worse than when Snape caught us nicking ingredients last year.”
Theo, still pale, nodded. “Note to self: never, ever get on her bad side again.”
“I think I forgot how to breathe,” Lorenzo added under his breath.
“She's not always like that,” Draco muttered, though his shoulders remained tense. “Only when we're being absolute pillocks.”
Narcissa guided Ella into a jeweler's shop where the air was lightly perfumed with roses, and the interior glowed with soft golden light. Display cases glittered with treasures - emerald brooches, diamond chokers, and silver rings.
The boys trailed after them, their earlier bravado replaced by open-mouthed wonder. Even Draco, accustomed to Malfoy Manor's opulence, found himself staring at a sapphire the size of a Knut, and Theo, who normally scoffed at such places, looked a little impressed.
“Here,” Narcissa said, pointing to a hair clip resting on midnight velvet.
Ella's breath caught. The silver clip was delicate as a spider's web, its swirling filigree studded with rubies that glowed like captured firelight. It looked like something from a fairy tale - the sort of treasure a knight might win for his lady.
“May I?” Narcissa asked. When Ella nodded mutely, Narcissa gathered a lock of her raven hair, twisting it with practiced elegance. The clip slid into place with a soft click.
Ella gasped softly, her long black hair spilled down her back, the rubies sparked against her dark tresses like stars against night sky, the silver bright as moonlight.
“Bloody hell,” Theo blurted, then flushed. “I mean - you look...” He gestured helplessly.
“Like a princess,” Draco finished, uncharacteristically earnest. His usual smirk had softened into something dangerously close to admiration.
Matthew and Lorenzo nodded in agreement, and Ella’s cheeks turned rosy. She wasn’t sure how to respond, so she smiled, shy but glowing.
Ella touched the clip with trembling fingers, watching her reflection in the gilded mirror, she saw someone who belonged in stories rather than orphanage hand-me-downs.
“I...” Her voice wavered. “I don't know how to thank you.”
“You are very welcome, my dear,” she said. “Now you will always have a part of me with you, no matter where you go.”
While Narcissa and Ella admired more of the jewelry, the boys began to grow impatient.
“This is taking forever,” Theo muttered, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “How long does it take to pick out a necklace?”
“It’s not just a few necklaces,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “There’s like a million of them.”
Lorenzo, ever the observer, smiled. “Let them enjoy it. When does Narcissa Malfoy ever act like this?”
“I’ve never seen Aunt Cissa act like that in front of anyone before,” Matthew whispered to Draco. “She is actually laughing. Properly laughing. I didn't know she could do that in public.”
Draco watched as his mother demonstrated an emerald tiara to a giggling Ella. “Neither did I,” he admitted quietly. “She must really like Ella to let her guard down like this. It’s… refreshing.”
The boys fell silent, watching the two across the shop—Narcissa, elegant and poised, pointing at a delicate pendant, and Ella, smiling as she listened, eyes full of awe.
Just as they turned to leave the jeweler's, Narcissa paused and addressed the shopkeeper. “A velvet case, if you please.” she requested, her voice carrying that effortless Malfoy elegance.
The shopkeeper, accustomed to such requests from wealthy patrons, produced a small ebony box lined with emerald velvet. She nestled the hair clip within its folds with the care one might reserve for handling a sleeping pixie before presenting it to Narcissa with a slight bow.
Narcissa turned to Ella, “It reminded me of someone very dear to me - a friend who adored rubies. I think she would have been quite taken with you.”
Ella looked at the gift, her fingers gently curling around the box. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “This means so much to me. I’ll treasure it—always.”
The smile Narcissa offered then was unlike any Ella had seen from her before - warm as afternoon sunlight through greenhouse glass, transforming her aristocratic features into something approaching maternal.
“Now then,” Narcissa said, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeves, “who fancies tea? There's a café nearby that does exceptional scones - the raspberry ones are to die for.”
Ella's stomach growled audibly at the suggestion, making Theo snicker. “Lead on!” she agreed enthusiastically, clutching her precious gift to her chest.
The café Narcissa brought them to was small and tucked away, with delicate lace curtains and rose-gold teapots on every table. They ordered warm scones, flaky pastries, and steaming cups of butter-mint tea. Conversation flowed easily—light teasing, shared stories, quiet laughter.
When Lorenzo and Theo made their farewells - thanking the Malfoys with polite bows that would have made their parents proud - Ella found herself strangely reluctant to follow suit.
“I should be going too,” she said at last, turning to Narcissa. “But this has been... well, the loveliest day I can remember.”
Narcissa reached out, straightening a nonexistent wrinkle in Ella's collar. “The pleasure was mine, dear,” she murmured. Then, to everyone's astonishment - including perhaps her own - she found herself enveloped in a fierce hug, followed by a quick, shy peck on the cheek.
Lucius, ever the picture of aristocratic composure, barely raised an eyebrow when Ella turned to him next. Though his embrace was decidedly stiffer than his wife's, his pat on her back held genuine warmth. “You must visit us at the manor,” he said, and for once, it didn't sound like empty politeness.
And then she turned to the boys. When she kissed each of them on the cheek in turn, Draco's pale complexion turned a remarkable shade of pink, while Matthew's grin threatened to split his face.
“See you at school, princess!” Matthew called after her as she departed, his voice bubbling with laughter.
Ella hurried away, her heart lighter than it had been in years, the velvet box pressed close like a talisman. Behind her, she could have sworn she heard Narcissa sarcastic, “Really, Draco, must you blush like a first-year?”
The sound of their laughter followed her all the way down the sunlit alley.
Ella spotted Ms. Jones emerging from Flourish and Blotts, her arms piled high with Lockhart's books and a grin stretching across her face that could rival the Cheshire Cat's. But what really caught Ella's attention was the photograph Ms. Jones was cradling like a priceless treasure.
Ms. Jones' eyes sparkled as she carefully extracted the photo from its protective sleeve with the reverence of a curator handling a museum piece.
“I just got this signed by the Gilderoy Lockhart!” Ms. Jones gushed, almost bouncing with excitement. “He was so kind, so charming, just like in his books. I told him how much I loved Magical Me and he said I had ‘exquisite literary taste.’ I nearly fainted!”
Ella couldn't suppress an amused snort. “Honestly, I don't get the appeal. His hair looks like it's been polished with furniture wax, and that smile's so perfect it's creepy.”
Ms. Jones tsked, tucking the photo safely away. “Oh Ella, it's not about the hair—though it is magnificent—it's how he makes you feel. When he speaks to you, it's like you're the only witch in the room.” Ms. Jones tsked, tucking the photo safely away. “Oh Ella, it's not about the hair—though it is magnificent—it's how he makes you feel. When he speaks to you, it's like you're the only witch in the room.”
Ella rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a well-practiced act if you ask me.”
“You're just jealous,” Ms. Jones teased, nudging Ella with her elbow. “Admit it—you think he's dashing too.”
“Pfft! I'd rather kiss a flobberworm,” Ella retorted.
The way back to the orphanage became a lively back-and-forth, with Ms. Jones recounting Lockhart's “daring” exploits from his books with dramatic flair, while Ella provided increasingly sarcastic commentary.
“—and then he single-handedly defeated the Werewolf!” Ms. Jones declared.
“With what? His hair gel?” Ella shot back, sending them both into peals of laughter.
By the time they reached the orphanage steps, Ms. Jones was wheezing with laughter, clutching her side. “Merlin's beard, Ella,” she gasped, wiping mirthful tears from her eyes. “You're terrible! But you have to admit—the man knows how to tell a story.”
Ella shook her head, still grinning. “I'll admit he's good at one thing—filling books with nonsense and making people believe it.”
Ella then grinned. “I think it’s a good thing I’m not a troublemaker,” she said, teasing. “Otherwise, you’d probably accuse me of distracting you from smitten on purpose with all this Lockhart nonsense.”
“I am not smitten,” Ms. Jones said with mock offense, raising her chin. “I am simply a respectful admirer of a good storyteller.”
“Uh-huh,” Ella said, raising an eyebrow with a knowing look.
Ms. Jones held her head high, but the way her lips twitched gave her away. “I’m far too mature to be swooning over celebrities.”
Ella laughed. “Right. And I’m the next Minister of Magic.”
They entered the orphanage still laughing, the photo of Gilderoy Lockhart tucked safely into Ms. Jones’s bag — and a small, happy glow lingering in Ella’s chest that had nothing to do with Lockhart, and everything to do with the unexpected warmth of that afternoon.
The morning of September first dawned bright and clear, with just enough crispness in the air to remind Ella that summer was slipping away. Lucy purred contentedly in her arms as she adjusted the hairclip that held back a lock of her hair. The velvet box it had come in now sat safely at the bottom of her trunk, wrapped in her softest jumper.
“Ready then?” Ms. Jones asked, adjusting Ella's collar with a fond smile. “Got your wand? Your books? That fancy hairclip secured?”
Ella nodded, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. “Triple-checked everything.” She pulled the cat toy from her pocket and dangled it before Lucy's nose. “Look what your favorite Slytherin sent you.”
King’s Cross Station buzzed with activity as students and families bustled about, saying their goodbyes and wheeling their trunks toward Platform 9¾. Ella scanned the crowd — and then she saw him.
Draco.
His white-blond hair was unmistakable, gleaming even under the cloudy London sky. He stood with perfect posture beside Narcissa and Lucius, Matthew chatting beside him. Draco spotted her in an instant and lifted his hand in a wave, his lips curving into a rare, soft smile.
“Draco! Matthew!” The names burst from Ella before she could stop it. Lucy gave an indignant mewl as Ella took off running, her trunk rattling behind her.
Draco turned just in time to catch the whirlwind of dark hair and enthusiasm that barreled into him. “Oi—!” he managed, staggering back a step before steadying them both. His cheeks pinked as Ella threw her arms around him and Matthew, but his laughter was genuine. “Missed us that much, did you?”
“Shut up,” Ella muttered into his shoulder, though she was grinning too widely for the words to carry any bite.
Narcissa's delighted gasp cut through the moment. “Ella, darling! You're wearing the clip!” Ella turned brushing her hair aside to reveal the elegant silver clip.
Narcissa’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Ella, it looks lovely on you,” she said with genuine affection, reaching out to gently adjust a strand of hair. “Absolutely perfect.”
Ella touched the rubies self-consciously. “It's my favorite thing I own now.” The admission came out softer than she'd intended.
Lucius watched them with a composed smile, then cleared his throat. “Much as I enjoy standing about on drafty platforms, you'd best board unless you fancy riding in the luggage rack.”
After quick farewell and hugs, the trio clambered aboard, Lucy leading the charge as if she knew the way by heart.
Draco snagged Ella's sleeve as they pushed down the corridor. “Saved you something,” he murmured, giving her a small box of Honeydukes' best chocolates from his pocket. “In case you'd forgotten what proper sweets taste like after a summer of orphanage gruel.”
Ella swatted at him, but took the chocolates with a grin. “Prat.”
Matthew swung an arm around both their shoulders. “Ready for another year of chaos?”
they passed several compartments already filled with students until, they found one Draco claimed the prime seat by the window, stretching his legs across the bench with practiced ease. “Home away from home,” he declared, watching steam curl past the glass.
Ella smiled and slid into the seat, Lucy curling up beside her with a contented purr. “Yeah, it does. Like coming home.”
Matthew set his trunk overhead and flopped down next to Draco. “Where are Enzo and Theo? I thought they'd arrive before we do.”
Just then, the compartment door slid open with a bit of a crash.
to reveal the missing duo—”Here we are!” Lorenzo declared, his curls a little messy from the search. “Finally found you lot.”
Theo staggered in behind him, looking slightly winded. “That was a workout,” he huffed, flopping dramatically into the seat next to Draco. “There were no empty compartments left.”
“We saved you the best spot, naturally,” Draco said, patting the seat beside him with mock formality.
Lorenzo gave a mock bow. “And for that, dear sir, you have our eternal gratitude.”
“Glad to be of service,” Draco replied, lifting an imaginary hat and bowing in return.
Ella chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m just glad we’re all together again. This year’s going to be the best one yet.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Theo said, grinning as he stretched out his legs.
Matthew leaned forward, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. “Especially with me as Quidditch captain this year.”
“You better be,” Theo said, clapping him on the back. “Because if we’re going to win, we’ve got to step things up. Harder training, smarter strategy.” “And we need more speed,” Theo added, warming to the topic. “Offense and defense. We need to fly like we’ve got dragonfire chasing us.”
Lorenzo raised a brow. “That’s comforting.”
Ella groaned, tossing a licorice at him. “We've been back together for less than thirty minutes! Can't we have one conversation that doesn't involve bludgers?”
Theo gasped, clutching his chest as if struck. “You'd deny us our life's passion? Our raison d'être?”
“It's in our blood,” Matthew said solemnly.
Ella snorted. “You just like flying around and throwing a ball.”
They all burst out laughing, the compartment now filled with warmth and the comfort of being among people who felt like home. The conversation drifted toward other topics — their summer adventures, what classes they were dreading, which professors were bound to give them trouble this year.
But of course, it wasn’t long before…Quidditch again.
Ella groaned, leaning her head back. “Here we go again…”
“Hey, some of us live for this!” Theo grinned. Ella laughed, shaking her head. “You two were definitely born holding Quaffles.”
As the train rumbled on toward Hogwarts, the laughter and easy chatter continued, and outside their window, the golden countryside rolled by.
Draco and Lorenzo had their heads bent together over a scrap of parchment, quill scratching furiously as they mapped out their third-year timetable with the precision of a pair of junior Ministry officials.
“We'll need to block out two hours after dinner for Potions revision,” Draco said, tapping the parchment with his wand. “And we can't let Quidditch interfere with Ancient Runes on Thursdays. That's our most challenging subject.”
“Agreed,” Lorenzo nodded solemnly. “Perhaps we should color-code—”
Across the compartment, Ella, Theo, and Matthew exchanged looks, trying to contain their laughter. The level of detail these two were diving into was something else.
Finally, Theo let out a snort and burst into laughter. “Merlin's beard,” he wheezed, clutching his stomach. “You two are worse than Percy Weasley! A colour-coded study schedule? Really?”
Ella bit her lip to stifle a giggle, while Matthew made a valiant effort to keep a straight face, Draco straightened his robes with dignity. “Some of us take our education seriously, Nott.”
“Oh please,” Ella said, rolling her eyes. “Term hasn't even started and you've already planned out your revision sessions. That's not serious, that's...” She waved a hand, searching for the right word.
“Terrifying?” Theo said.
“I was going to say 'adorably anxious,'“ Ella countered with a grin.
Lorenzo held up his hands in mock surrender. “You can't fault a wizard for being prepared!”
“I respect the organization,” Theo said, still laughing. “I just think you don’t need to plan your entire lives before we even hit the Great Hall.”
Draco gave a casual shrug. “What can I say? We’re ambitious.”
Ella leaned forward with a teasing look. “I think you’re just trying to distract yourselves because you’re nervous about third year.”
“I’m not nervous,” Draco said quickly, though the pink rising in his cheeks said otherwise.
“Oh really?” Ella said, raising an eyebrow. “Not even a little bit nervous about your first class with Professor Snape?”
Draco's ears turned pink. “That's absurd. Malfoys don't get nervous.”
“That’s low, princess,” Lorenzo laughed. “Oh come on,” Ella said, laughing with them. “We all know Snape’s terrifying even when he’s in a good mood.”
The compartment erupted in laughter, the sound mingling with the rhythmic clack of the train wheels. After a moment, Theo turned to Ella. “Alright, enough about these swots. What's really on your mind for second year?”
Ella twirled a lock of hair around her finger, suddenly sheepish. “Well... I suppose I'm just glad to be back with all of you. The orphanage was... quiet.”
Theo didn't hesitate—he launched across the compartment to envelop her in a bear hug. “We missed you too, princess!”
“Speak for yourself,” Draco said airily, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Though I will admit Matthew here makes for dreadfully dull company compared to you.”
Matthew gasped, “You wound me, Malfoy! After all those heartfelt late-night chats about our feelings?”
“Exactly,” Draco deadpanned. “Dreadfully dull.”
As the trolley lady came rattling down the aisle, her cart stacked high with sweets, Draco’s eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning, waving her down like it was a life-or-death situation.
Moments later, his lap was filled with chocolate frogs, jelly slugs, Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, licorice wands, and several warm pumpkin pasties.
He sat back in his seat with a smug grin, clearly pleased with his sugary haul. “Bloody hell, Draco,” Theo laughed as Draco added a third box of Bertie Bott's to his haul. “Planning to feed the entire Slytherin house?”
Draco merely smirked, unwrapping a chocolate frog with aristocratic precision. “Consider it an investment in team morale.”
“Dray,” Ella said, raising an eyebrow, “you’re going to be bouncing off the walls after all that sugar.”
“Nonsense,” Draco replied confidently, already unwrapping a chocolate frog. “I have a very high tolerance for sugar. Practically immune.”
“You say that every year, and every year you end up doing cartwheels in the common room,” Theo added, popping a jelly slug into his mouth.
“That only happened once,” Draco muttered, but the grin tugging at his lips said otherwise.
The rest of the ride passed in a blur of jokes, stories, and laughter. Theo daring Lorenzo to eat a earwax-flavored bean (he did, with dramatic gagging), Matthew attempting to balance a jelly slug on his nose, and Draco growing increasingly hyperactive until even the reserved Lorenzo was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
All too soon, the train's whistle pierced their merriment. As they stepped onto the Hogsmeade platform, the first breath of Scottish air.
Ella fell into step with the stream of students flowing toward the castle, her heart swelling as the towering silhouette of Hogwarts came into full view. The familiar path was alive with chatter and laughter, the crunch of gravel underfoot, and the occasional excited shout as friends reunited after the summer apart.
Theo bumped her shoulder playfully as they walked, his grin bright in the twilight. “Look at you—grinning like you've won the Quidditch Cup already.”
“I just...” Ella twirled on the spot, her robes flaring as she took it all in—the scent of the lake, the distant hoot of owls, the warm glow of torches flickering to life along the path. “I didn't realize how much I'd missed this until now.”
To her left, Draco scoffed, though his usual smirk lacked its edge. “Sentimental, are we? Next you'll be composing odes to the Great Hall's ceiling.”
“Don't give her ideas,” Lorenzo chuckled, ducking when Ella swatted at him.
But she couldn't tamp down the joy bubbling in her chest. As the massive oak doors swung open before them, spilling golden light and the distant melody of the Sorting Hat's song onto the dusk-drenched grounds, Ella caught Draco's eye. For once, he didn't mask his own quiet contentment.
“Welcome home, princess,” he murmured.
Notes:
AND THAT'S A WRAP, YOU MAGICAL WEIRDOS!
AND SO IT BEGINS—ELLA’S SECOND YEAR, AKA MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE!!! "I'm laying I love all of them."
Editing this fluffy little chapter right after writing emotional devastation was... an experience. ("Wait, people smile in this story? Since when??")
P.S. Next update: When the stars align and my laptop battery doesn’t die.
P.P.S. If you hear distant screaming, it’s just me arguing with a solar charger. Send help.
With love, chaos, and and a questionable amount of daydreaming.
– [Elaf Mohammed/Buttercow]
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