#hp self insert

I awoke as if emerging from murky, clouded water. Wherever I was, I hadn’t the foggiest. I reached a sluggish hand over to grab my glasses from my nightstand, but they weren’t there. Instead, I felt across an expanse of silk curtains. I cracked one crusted eye open, and was almost blinded. 

Of course. I was at Hogwarts. 

My giddy excitement from the night before had tapered off into a pleasant, fluttering hum. The early morning light streamed brightly through my domed window. Beside me sat Peaches, her stubby, ringed tail whipping my leg. She chattered hungrily at the scattering of birds perched outside on the spires. I grinned lazily at her, yawning and rolling myself onto my elbow to stroke her soft neck. She chirped and leant into my touch until she fell over clumsily into my sapphire sheets. I wheezed a fond chuckle.  

Unveiling my bunk, I slid down the ladder and half-stumbled my way into my robes. Luna was absent this morning, as was Cho; one glance at my watch told me that those two early birds had most likely flown the nest already. My only remaining company was a scowling Padma Patil, who was fiddling frustratedly with her earrings. She looked so grumpy I decided to save wishing her a ‘good morning’ for later, jamming my glasses onto my face. 

After refilling her dishes, I smooched Peaches on her fuzzy forehead and set off whirling down the tall spiral staircase, my long braid trailing behind me. 

The great hall was dotted sporadically by groups of breakfasting students. I glanced up to see the enchanted ceiling rolled in thick, overcast clouds of solemn slate grey; a typical British September. 

I approached the Ravenclaw table, my stomach panging sorely with hunger. I saw that Luna was grazing on toast, her pale eyes flashing behind her spectrespecs. She tilted her head and waved cheerfully at me as I sat down. I smiled back, relieved. Apparently she had forgotten - or perhaps forgiven - the sour note we left on last year, when I accidentally let slip that I considered The Quibbler to be the wizarding world’s greatest satire magazine. 

“Hello, Jasmine,” she greeted airily. 

“Hi, Luna…” 

Starving, I wasted no time at all in demolishing my plate of eggs and bacon. Then, a floating streamer wafted by and dropped a roll of parchment neatly into my lap. I gulped down the last of my pumpkin juice, unfurled it and examined my new schedule:

Charms is nice for first thing on a Monday… Ugh, but Potions class this bloody early…  Don’t we have that new Defence against the Dark Arts professor…? 

“Did you sleep alright?” Luna piped up. 

“I did. Thankyou for asking.”

I stashed my timetable away. 

“How are you this morning, Luna?” I asked gently. 

“Perfectly well. Cho was up even earlier, you know.” 

Oh, that’s right… I scanned the length of our table, but Cho’s shiny black head was nowhere to be seen. 

“Well, maybe she’s trying to get in some early quidditch practice,” I reasoned.  

“She really should be careful, though,” Luna said seriously. “The quidditch pitch is infested with man-eating brackadrills this year.” 

True to my house, I wisely held my tongue. 

Professor Flitwick spent our first Charms lesson carefully going over the syllabus, but for Potions, it was business as usual with Professor Snape. I was immediately lambasted for my shoddy work, (which was really just par for the course for me) though the presence of the now familiar Minoes and Scarlet helped to soothe my nerves somewhat. 

Our first Defence against the Dark Arts lesson - indeed taken on by a new and rather haggard professor - began with a simple lecture on banshees, which I caught Seamus grimacing at rather harshly at times. By the evening, my Ancient Runes class had rolled around, and I was tired and sore. I had spent all Summer going soft, and was no longer used to traversing the labyrinthine halls or playing games of musical chairs with the grand staircase. 

But how dearly I'd missed it! How glad I was to be in the thick of it again; a shocked and awed foreigner in this vast, mystical place, as Alice in Wonderland. 

Arriving barely on time, I found a friendly seat nearby Neville and Minoes. Their conspiratorial whispers died to a hush as Professor Babbling swept in.

“Welcome, all!” She announced. “Well, I’m glad to see a good turnout this year. The more, the merrier, as I always say! Not everyone understands the value and complexity behind our sacred runes, but clearly the lot of you have done your research, and…” 

Professor Babbling rambled on for about half an hour before finally conjuring up our lesson plans. Then, she drifted off once again into a completely unrelated story concerning her trip to Peru, until the ever-diligent Hermione steered her firmly back on track. 

“Professor Babbling, we’ll be studying the differences between simplified and traditional scripts this year?” She prompted. 

“Ahem… Yes, we will, Miss Granger.” 

Actually, I had already sifted through my copy of Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms before this, unable to temper my enthusiasm. To be honest, my fascination with it was more along the lines of researching ancient tombs and the like; the reality of it was a little more drab, but it was still an interesting class so long as Professor Babbling stayed on target.

Be that as it may, I was eager to leave for dinner. Hogwarts never disappointed when it came feasting, its dining tables lined with food, all drowned in gravy. Above, the grand roof swelled purple with storm clouds as it echoed the raucous boom of thunder from outside, magnificent. 

After a hefty meal, stuffed full and yawning, I approached the eagle knocker. As always, it calmly presented me with a riddle: 

“Without wings, I fly. Without eyes, I cry. What am I?” 

Without wings… Without eyes… Flying without wings… A manta ray? No, they don’t cry… Neither do sycamore seeds… Ferocious rain beat down against the massive windows as I stood there, lost in thought. Wait… It’s raining… And…   

“Oh. A cloud. It floats in the sky, and cries rainwater.” 

“Hm… A fair answer. You may enter.” 

The lock clicked, and the door swung open. I entered, and felt a trickle of warmth flow through me at the sight of our common room. Apparently someone had requested ABBA, because there were a number of joyful students who were dancing badly around the fireplace. The more studious Ravenclaws were already started on their first essays, curled up on armchairs, glaring at these rowdy newcomers. Being somewhere in the middle, I decided it best to relax for the evening and tossed off my scarf.

Padma, quite at ease now that it was dusk, was laughing heartily as Peaches streaked frantically across the cobalt blue carpet. 

“Jas, your cat has the zoomies!” 

I grinned and fiddled with my glasses as I reclined on the sofa. I was worried Padma would dislike her, considering that she was quite protective over her old, sickly parakeet. 

Peaches finally calmed down after a few more laps and padded over to me, chirping as she jumped onto my leg. That night, I amused her by charming one of Padma’s dragonfly hair-clips (with her permission) to flutter ceaselessly around the Ravenclaw dorm, glittering like a winged jewel. 

It was still soaring in shaky arcs as I fell asleep, admiring the gleaming array of stars outside my bedside window, content and peaceful. 

The next morning was damp and miserable. 

Perfect weather for being stuck inside, of course. After a healthy helping of kippers and an even healthier book haul, I convinced the eagle knocker to let me in on a technicality and spread my parchment over an empty table. As much as I adored Hogwarts’ library, I preferred Ravenclaw tower; it was cosy, it had the best view in the castle, and most importantly, you could play music here. 

I suppose I should explain how we Ravenclaws managed to circumvent the zero tech policy. 

Typically, most electronics fizzled out in the presence of so much raw magic, so a digital setup in Hogwarts was a no-go. But here was the trick; a nice, simple record player, and fine collection of vinyls. How did we procure this filthy contraband, you ask? None other than our resident Giles Taylor. Most of his wit and wisdom went towards smuggling various muggle things into Hogwarts; I guess we both felt a little homesick at times. 

Now, Giles was quite precious about this treasure, but if you buttered him up enough, he was willing to allow you to spin just about any album on it. 

This was a generosity I often took advantage of. 

“That better not be what I think it is, Jas,” warned Giles, chuckling nervously as I slid a fresh record from its glossy folder. “Because If Roger tries to exorcise my record player one more time, I’m going to have to ban you, simple as that.” 

I cackled in remembrance.

“Don’t worry… I’m behaving today.” 

He still glared suspiciously at me. 

“I swear, Giles, I solemnly swear,” I assured him, dramatically flashing my vinyl. “It’s Robert Smith, see? Look at him, he wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

“I dunno, bloke looks a bit peaky to me.” 

But he relaxed after that, allowing me to play my record. I opened my books and dipped my quill in ink. Giles winced sympathetically.

“I guess you’ve got a lot of work to do.” 

“‘Course, naturally,” I said. “It’s Professor Snape.” 

He leant forward to inspect my unfurled parchment. 

“Oh, bollocks,” he groaned. “He set you a footlong?” 

“Um… Several, actually, on uses of Lavender.” 

“Yowch.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Well, I haven’t summoned yet,” Giles continued. “I have Potions class on Thursdays and Fridays, though…” 

“I’m sure you can’t wait,” I said dryly. 

Giles stretched luxuriously across the sofa, hurling another log into our fireplace. It crackled richly, filling me with vigour as I plodded through my essay. 

“So - oh, hey kitty! (Peaches fled hurriedly away from his grip) - All of that aside, we’re still on for that chess match later, right?” 

Flourishing my signature, I grinned. 

“Oh, yeah.” 

Wednesday was also fraught with heavy sheets of rain, and poor Cho tread into the great hall sopping wet, mucky and shivering. Her teeth were chattering so violently that Padma and I both helped to cast exaresco to suck up the moisture, offering her hot plates of syrup-smothered pancakes to warm her up.

“It’s freezing out there,” Cho shuddered out. “You’d think it was mid-Winter already!”

As Professor Binns resumed his usual droning without much fanfare, I almost doubted he noticed our absence over the Summer at all.

Beside me, Minoes fought bravely to resist his soporific power. I tried my best to do the same, jotting down as much information as I could possibly garner from his lecture. And yet, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander a little towards my next class. I had taken on Divination out of pure curiosity, but I was always a bit of a sceptic. That said, I knew I couldn’t rule it out entirely; magic definitely existed, after all. I remembered back to when my dad once told me about a ‘witch’ living in a cottage near the outskirts of town who had made some incredibly accurate predictions about the future. Would this ‘Professor Trelawney’ be like her? 

After the bell rang, I, rather fittingly, felt a bad premonition coming on, so I packed up and escaped History of Magic as quickly as possible in order to scope out the North Tower where I’d be taking my first Divination class. As expected, I got lost.

Out of breath from running, I straightened my glasses and brushed damp hair out of my face. The halls grew cold and solitary. This area of the castle was unfamiliar to me. But then, I realised it was because something about my usual path had changed: a huge, gleaming suit of armour that usually stood sentinel by the corridor wall had vanished. Hidden behind it was a small door that I had never seen before; one so tiny I could only imagine it being used by a house elf. 

What could be in there… What could be… 

“Ooh!” Squealed a painting of a hearty, green-clad barmaid. “Quick, he’s gone! Try going in!” 

I bit my lip, pulling my robes closer to my body. I was sorely tempted… But no, I ought to be responsible and make a good first impression… 

“I can’t,” I said glumly. “I have Divination.” 

I’ll come back later… Yes… 

“Killjoy!” The barmaid roared after me. “Let me tell you, girl. Back in my day, I knew a couple of right daring wee lads. They’dve chanced it!” 

But I was already gone. 

I was late, of course, and was forced to waddle awkwardly over to make my excuses to Professor Trelawney under the scrutiny of my peers. 

“Yes,” she murmured. “Did I not foresee this? That one of our number would battle great confusion on their journey here? Go on, take a seat…” 

Professor Trelawney waved me away with a spindly, jewel encrusted hand. I breathed a glad sigh that I was not scolded, but as I scanned the misty, incense-ridden chamber, I saw that most of the pouffes were taken. The only free spot was by…

“Hi,” I whispered, sinking into a plush armchair.

Scarlet glanced over at me, their mouth curling into a brief smile. I noticed they wore the Slytherin robes now, their vibrant, purple hair pulled into a ponytail.

“Hi,” she replied. “Nice seeing you again.” 

I nodded distractedly as I unloaded my bag. Were they alone for the same reason as last time? For some reason, this random thought sprang to mind.  

“We’re supposed to read our tea leaves,” Scarlet explained quietly. “Drink up, then we’ll swap.” 

They brought a delicate, blue teacup to their lips and gulped down a mouthful. Still frazzled, I lagged behind in drinking mine. It was scalding hot - and I was never much of a tea drinker anyway - but I didn’t want to hold up the lesson. I winced at the bitter taste, but once I’d swallowed it all, I slid it over, and swiftly received hers. I fumbled nervously with my copy of Unfogging the Future as I rotated the cup around, trying to decipher some understandable shape…

“Oh, It looks a bit like a unicorn,” I reported. “That’s sweet… That means you’ll ‘find love,’ apparently. (They snorted) But there’s a bit here too… Like a sort of cudgel looking thing… Wait, it says here that if you get that, you’ll be ‘attacked…’ Um…” 

I whipped through a few pages to confirm it. 

“So - er - I guess you’re going to be attacked by a person you fall in love with,” I finished. “Or fall in love with your attacker, maybe?”

“Wow,” they said flatly, scoffing. “Finally, I have something to look forward to.” 

I couldn’t help but stifle a giggle; I quickly turned it into a fit of hiccups as Professor Trelawney approached, her many necklaces glittering. 

“Ah, Pimpernel, my most faithful student,” she praised. “What do you see in Daly’s cup, my dear?” 

Scarlet hurriedly returned to my tea leaves. 

“…Fire. Yeah, a big nasty flame,” they muttered, squinting into my teacup. “Uh, wait, I remember. A fire, that means ‘passion.’”

Professor Trelawney nodded sagely. 

“Yes, ‘passion!’ The burning fire of passion, for a beloved hobby, perhaps? A pastime you are most devoted to? Or, yes, a passionate love affair.” 

“Oh,” I said pleasantly. “That’s nice!”  

But then she stopped rather abruptly. 

“Wait!” 

Surprised, I peered up at Professor Trelawney. Her dreamy, tender smile had vanished. Now, her magnified eyes were huge and glistening.  

“Give… Give that here…” 

She reached out with thin, quivering hands to receive the cup. Scarlet’s brows were knit in concern, and we exchanged puzzled looks. I felt my stomach lurch as Professor Trelawney paled a papery white. That did not appear to be promising… I squirmed in my seat. 

“Oh… Oh, no… No…” 

“What?” I urged, nervous.

Professor Trelawney fixed me with a teary stare. It felt uncomfortably like that of a doctor about to diagnose their patient with a terminal illness. 

“You have…” Her lip trembled. “The Grim.” 

Shocked gasps echoed around the classroom. 

“…”

What the fuck is a Grim?

This answer was so underwhelming, my anxiety immediately dispersed into confusion. I glanced dubiously around the other pouffes, unnerved by the funereal atmosphere. Lavender and Parvati were gazing at me mournfully, as if I might be struck dead by lightning at any second. 

“Um…” I felt dumb. “What’s that?” 

“A most terrible death omen!” Professor Trelawney let out a frightened sort of moan. “T-to have two sightings of the Grim in such quick succession, oh…” 

A death omen…? The words rippled in my mind. 

Our panicking teacher wavered delicately on the spot, and for a moment I believed she might actually faint. Her arm went limp and the offending teacup dropped onto my lap. I saw for the first time the ominous shape of a black dog at the bottom of it… 

The Grim… 

“You are dismissed!” Professor Trelawney cried, clutching a hand to her chest, as if willing away an oncoming heart attack. 

I was prickled by whispers and mutterings as I hurriedly stuffed my books into my bag. A sceptic I may have been, but the collective dread of the classroom, the headache-inducing perfume and the exhaustion had all bubbled nausea into my belly. 

“Um, look,” Scarlet began, gently brushing elbows with me. “Harry got a Grim too, last year, and he hasn’t snuffed it yet. You’ll probably be fine.”

I smiled shakily. Considering Harry Potter’s penchant for misfortune, this wasn’t exactly reassuring news, but I knew that she was only trying to comfort me. 

“Was just a wee bit unexpected, is all,” I mustered up. “How did I go from ‘whirlwind love affair’ to popping my bloody clogs?”

“Maybe you’ll get some first,” Scarlet shrugged. Y’know. Before you die.”

“Oh, Fantastic.”  

After the drama of my first Divination lecture, I was glad to return back to my bed (after sassing that eagle bastard) and curl up beside Peaches. 

She didn’t know what was wrong, of course, but she purred for me like a cute little motorcycle. Stroking her soft fur made me feel a lot less freaked out, and given that Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures were both due on Thursday, I made the mistake of looking forward to tomorrow…

But on Thursday, I was still thoroughly spooked. That familiar sense of unease plagued me all morning, distracting me constantly. I barely remembered how to chew my toast or drink my pumpkin juice but for drifting off into strange, unwelcome states of mind, which concerned my housemates quite a bit. 

“It’ll be fine, Jas,” Cho told me over breakfast. “My grandma saw one when she was a girl, and she’s celebrating her 90th birthday this year!” 

I smiled weakly at her.

As much as I would’ve liked to pretend that the old superstitious tales didn’t affect me, I unfortunately carried that bad energy right over through Charms and into Potions with Professor Snape. This was when my sour luck truly reared its ugly head. 

“Today we will be brewing the Draught of Peace, a potion meant to calm the mind and relieve anxiety,” he explained flatly, swooping into the classroom. “As this is a simple OWL level assignment, I expect you all to prepare and complete it easily.”  

I could really use a bit of anxiety relief right now…

“Be aware,” Professor Snape deliberated, crossing his arms, “That should you fail, its sedative properties are extremely potent…”

His black eyes narrowed as they passed over us, and I sucked in a shaky breath, fumbling with my potion-brewing equipment. Beside me, Minoes stood at attention and was listening raptly, while Scarlet ignored Malfoy’s haughty glare as much as possible. 

“You may begin.”

As I mashed up my powdered moonstone and my ladelled in my syrup of hellebore, Professor Snape’s oppressive aura weighed down on me like a ton of bricks. I used to be properly scared of him in my very first year, and I still wasn’t entirely over it now. Glancing over toward Minoes, I saw her brows furrowed in concentration, and her potion looking exactly how it should be… My heartrate spiked rapidly as he stalked over to our table, rushing to turn down the heat as he grilled Minoes on her ‘unconventional crushing style.” 

Cold sweat beaded my neck. My potion was now a dark, inky substance which resembled tar; not at all the light baby pink it should be at this stage. Somewhere along the line, I’d mucked it up. Panic spiralled in my brain as Professor Snape approached, black robes billowing, and I accidentally knocked my cup of powdered porcupine quills over the counter… 

Now, he loomed over me. I swallowed down a lump.

“Tell me, Miss Daly,” Professor Snape began. “Precisely where in your textbook does it specify that your potion should look like an oil spill? 

“Nowhere, sir,” I muttered, scraping up my quills. 

“And yet… Somehow, you have managed it.” 

I nodded shamefully, head hung over my cauldron. 

“As it seems that you are incapable of following basic instructions,” Professor Snape continued silkily, lips curling unpleasantly, “I shall monitor you.” 

From the other side of the dungeon, I heard a nasty sniggering that I knew came from Malfoy. I pushed my glasses back up the bridge of my nose, my stomach plummeting. On Monday, Professor Snape had simply insulted me as he usually did, but it seemed now he wanted to humiliate me. I briefly wondered if the rumours that the Weasley twins had set off dungbombs in his ingredients store were true.

“Go on,” he said softly. 

Picking my thumb nervously, I fiddled with my wand. Didn’t the next step include a bit of light spellwork? I could barely remember, and I was too afraid to check while Professor Snape was watching me. So against my better judgement, I twirled my wand shakily over the simmering surface of my cauldron. 

And unfortunately, this was a bad idea. 

You see, my wand, while loyal and sweet, is often quite unreliable; just like me. Sometimes it misfires. Sometimes my spellcasting goes horrifyingly wrong.

Like right about now. 

With an awful bang, The hem of Professor Snape’s robes combusted into a small inferno. Gasps issued from across the dungeon as the acrid stench of burning fabric filled the air. My heart almost stopped. Professor Snape stared right at me, furious. 

“What,” he spat through gritted teeth, going the colour of spoiled milk. “Exactly did you just do!?” 

“Well I just- Sir, you’re, um, very flammable, and…”

I hurriedly jammed my fist into my mouth. 

What the actual fuck did I just say?!

A chorus of hysterical giggles erupted around us. Even some of the Slytherins were sniggering, though not as much as the Gryffindors, who were practically howling with laughter. There was a terrible clattering as Seamus Finnigan had bent over double and knocked over his cauldron, spilling violently bubbling orange liquid onto the dungeon floor. Professor Snape’s face paled further into ashen white. He actually seemed to be trembling with rage. The flames licked now dangerously high, but he stood there, unmoving, as if petrified by their mockery.

“Aguamenti!” Minoes cried. 

She leaped in and extinguished it with an icy jet of water from the tip of her wand, her face wrought in panic. This immediately thawed him from his frost. 

I, on the other hand, couldn’t move at all. 

“Mr Finnigan!” He snapped, whirling around to face Seamus, burnt clothes dripping everywhere. “That’s twenty points from Gryffindor, and a failing grade!” 

This sobered Seamus up rather quickly.  

“Clean that up, Finnigan!” Minoes scolded him. “Before it ignites!” 

“Oh, right!” 

Seamus scrambled to clean it up himself, but Scarlet flung herself across the dungeon and did it for him: 

“Scourgify!” 

I watched idly, trapped in a sort of numb daze. My traitorous wand felt blisteringly hot in my hand, so I stuffed it down my robes as if I’d stolen it. A few Gryffindors were still tittering away, but now the Slytherins glared at me with hateful venom. 

“Jasmine, what are you doing?!” Minoes hissed. “Look, your mixture’s completely overflowing! It’s spilling all down your— oh, give it here!”

I flinched as I was bustled away from my worktable. She swiftly neutralised my failed concoction by scouring it just before it exploded.   

“Um… Professor,” Scarlet tried gently. “Are you hurt?” 

But he didn’t answer, his jaw twitching furiously.  

“And you, Miss Daly,” Professor Snape turned back to me, absolutely fuming. “Fifty points from Ravenclaw, and I want you in my office, now!” 

I could only let out a terrified squeak. 

Oh God, I am so dead. 

That afternoon, I received what was perhaps the most vicious tongue-lashing of my life - courtesy of Professor Snape - as well as an entire Friday’s (plus weekend’s) worth of paying reperations! This was a massive shock to my system, as I had not spent one single minute of my life in detention before this. My once flawless record had been besmirched. 

And the worst thing was, after the stunt I’d pulled on my teacher, I honestly felt that I deserved it. 

So, feeling outrageously lucky that I had not been kicked out of Hogwarts entirely, I dragged myself to lunch, though I was barely hungry at all. Once I entered the great hall, I was immediately bombarded by furtive glances and excited whispers. 

I understood why, of course: there had been a desperate desire for gossip, and I’d come to fulfill it. My ‘fiery outburst’ had garnered me some mild infamy, though most could barely decide if it had been intentional or not. Regardless, I was still left shell-shocked as my Gryffindor classmates approached me one by one, grinning from ear to ear: 

“Hey, crazy pyromaniac girl!”

“Daly, that was class!” 

Even Fred and George Weasley, who I had never spoken to before in my life, marched right up to me and congratulated me heartily, as if I’d won a prize.

Reception among my own house was varied. I felt deeply uncomfortable under Cho’s pitying gaze, though she surely meant well. However, my mood dropped several more notches as Padma regarded me coolly, deliberately ignoring me as I passed her on my way to the Ravenclaw table. Luna, on the other hand, seemed quite calm and serene, and I was now more than ever grateful for her forgiving nature.

Of course, the Slytherins seemed to have forgotten how happily they’d laughed along with the Gryffindors; they were all giving me the stink-eye.

“Pathetic excuse for a witch, that Daly,” Malfoy was yammering loudly: “Can’t even brew a simple potion without mucking it up!” 

Unable to muster the nerve to insult him back, I tightened my jaw, determined to keep on chewing. My food tasted like gravel in my mouth. 

“It must be all the Mudblood,” he sniggered. 

Embarrassed, annoyed and flustered all at once, I left for Care of Magical Creatures after shoving a few  steak and kidney puddings down my gullet. But my moodiness was swiftly replaced with delight as I was introduced to Hagrid’s new creatures alongside the rest of the group: a herd of beautiful Kelpies. 

Some of the others seemed a bit apprehensive at first, but I had been itching to return to this class all Summer. My reputation had always been good here, so as a demonstration, I was allowed to try and fit a bridle onto one of the Kelpies with the use of a Placement Charm. 

“Easy does it, now…” Hagrid advised, watching me mount a particularly calm, benign mare. “Steady, tha’s it. Now, hold on tight to ‘er!”

My robes swirling in the mire, I gasped as the cold sensation of water hit me. I gripped her damp, slippery neck tightly as we swam a couple of short laps around the pond. Relishing the feeling of freedom, I almost forgot my troubles. Almost. 

“I knew yeh’ could do it!” Hagrid beamed at me. I grinned sheepishly back, stroking the Kelpie’s mane. Well, at least I’m not a complete failure. 

That evening, my tired eyes stung as I squinted up at the glimmering, star-strewn sky. 

Hello, Andromeda… Delphinus… There’s Pegasus… Aries, Pisces, Aquarius… Perseus and Triangulum… Oh, Canis Major isn’t too easy to see yet… 

Professor Sinastra’s clacking heels echoed around us as she patrolled the Astronomy tower, softly instructing us. I felt so drowsy, I almost nodded off at my telescope. But then I remembered her number one rule: ‘no sleeping during class…’

By the next day, my unfortunate story had mutated into  a far stranger beast. Now, I was some kind of anti-Professor Snape vigilante, a loose cannon ready to lob a spell at the slightest provocation. I had a funny feeling that this was simply the story people wanted to tell, rather than the one they actually believed in. In fact, the Gryffindors were so positively delighted by the concept of Professor Snape suffering that, despite everything, I almost felt a bizarre sort of sympathy for him. 

This sentiment was dampened, however, as Professor Snape seemed to take pleasure in assigning me the worst possible tasks imaginable: polishing his most stubborn cauldrons (by hand), cleaning out the infirmary bedpans (also by hand) and disembowelling fresh specimens (the gore was absolute hell to remove from under my fingernails). All the while, Professor Snape would sneer coldly down at me, docking points from Ravenclaw for any minor infraction he could justify it for; and some for which he couldn’t. Once he’d gotten to the point of threatening to feed my spoiled concoctions to Peaches, I decided it was mutual hatred, and battled the mad impulse to torch him again.

My one consolation was that I wasn’t alone; if there was anything to be gained from this, it was my newfound camaraderie with Seamus Finnigan. 

“Ugh, this is feckin’ rotten,” he groaned over our freshly dissected pile of grindylow guts. “Hey, Jas. Pass me over them tweezers, I got this stubborn…” 

I slid them across the sticky, blood-soaked table. 

“At least you’ll be done after this, Seamus,” I said grimly, harvesting a gallbladder. “I still have a whole bloody weekend of this shit to look forward to.” 

“Miss me, will you?” 

“Oh, you know it. Who else am I gonna gab with?”  

Yes, we were felons chained in the same gaol, but Seamus was good company, and I was glad to resume my natural talking speed around him.

“By the way,” he started, grinning cheekily. “If the fire was an accident, I’ve done that before, too, but… What possessed you to call the man ‘flammable?’”  

“‘Foot planted firmly in mouth’ syndrome.” 

“Hah. Go figures.” 

“As for the fire-starting itself,” I continued wearily, grimacing as I ripped out a slimy grindylow spleen. “I suspect it’s the Protestant in me.” 

Seamus snorted. 

My Friday lessons were similarly overcast by my Potions mishap, but I tried my best not to let it distract me, and I even managed to enjoy myself in DADA and Wizarding Literature. Still, It was clear that had not impressed Professor McGonagall with my badly mangled rat-kettle hybrid.

“Now, I know you’re capable of better work than this, Miss Daly,” she lectured me sternly. “I can’t understand why you keep disappointing yourself.” 

As a matter of fact, neither could I. 

My workload had multiplied tenfold since I’d been indentured by Professor Snape, so once I finally had a bit of spare time, I had no choice but to spend it writing my other essays. Luckily, Saturday’s lunch break granted me a little breathing room, so I sped off to the library to borrow a few books. While I was there, I ran into none other than Minoes. 

“Hi,” I whispered. 

“Oh. Hey, Jas,” she replied quietly. 

Minoes was carrying a stack of heavy books, all stamped heavily with alchemical symbols. She adjusted her grip as she looked at me.  

“So,” I tried, brushing a stray lock behind my ear. “Uh… What are you reading about?” 

“Just some stuff for Potions,” said Minoes.  

“You’re far better at that subject than me, haha…”

There was a weighty silence for a moment. 

“The fire on Thursday was a complete and total accident, by the way,” I assured her quickly, “I would never do something like that on purpose.” 

Minoes’ expression was indecipherable. Nevertheless, It felt as if the atmosphere had brightened a bit. 

“Well, I suppose you’re feeling the consequences of your actions now,” she told me. “It’s definitely not a pretty grave, but you dug it yourself.” 

Grimacing, I nodded somberly. A very practical answer, but I had come to appreciate that of her. 

“Um… One more thing, Minoes.” 

“Yes?” 

“Well, I was wondering,” I began. “If you’d maybe like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend? I mean, I sort of can’t… I’m a bit busy right now.” 

I shifted anxiously, checking for Madam Pince. 

“Sure,” Minoes replied quietly, shrugging. “Actually, that sounds like it could be fun.” 

Relief flooded me, and I sighed happily.

“Great!” 

“Oh, but is it alright if I invite Scarlet to come along with us?” Minoes asked. “We all had such a nice time on the Hogwarts Express together, after all.”

This suggestion thrilled me even more. 

“Yes, of course, that’s totally fine,” I said, nodding.

Her dark lips twitched into a smile. 

“Okay, then. See you around,” Minoes finished. Cradling her heavy tomes to her chest, she spun on her heels and walked away. 

“Be seeing you…” 

Hogsmeade…

This was it, a little scrap of hope I could latch onto. My mood lifted, I finished my hour of studying and then set off to do more chores for Professor Snape. 

By Sunday, my five seconds of fame had largely blown over, as I was overshadowed by the Weasley twins’ typical shenanigans, which I was very glad for. For a while my reputation as a quiet, absent-minded student had been in great peril, and so to celebrate my return to normalcy, I decided to visit Hagrid. 

My neck wound in my sapphire scarf, I set off across campus grounds, the grass still damp and mucky from rain. The weather had picked up a bit, but it was still quite windy, blowing strong, bracing gales that whipped stray hairs powerfully against my face. The fresh air helped to clear my head a little, though. Today, I also wanted to help Hagrid to prepare lessons like I occasionally did last year. I hadn’t been able to speak to him properly until now because Professor Snape kept me so busy, but now I had been cleared of all charges, I finally had time. 

On arrival, I knocked heavily against the door. 

“Come in!” Hagrid bellowed, and I entered. 

I paused. Hagrid wasn’t alone; Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were here as well, nursing huge, grimy mugs the sizes of buckets. 

“Um, hi,” I said quietly. 

“It’s you!” Ron cried, his freckled face breaking into a grin. “The crazy firestarter girl!” 

“Ron!” Hermione hissed, nudging his elbow. 

Harry took a swig of his tea. I smiled awkwardly. 

“Jas!” Hagrid beamed, cutting through the tension. “Sip’a water?” 

“Oh, Thankyou.” 

I sat down, and he slid the entire pitcher over to me. 

“Hey, Fang,” I said quietly. Fang the boarhound licked sloppily into my hand, probably hankering for the remnants of buttered toast left there. 

Eager to change the subject, I turned to Hermione.

“We’re both in Ancient Runes, aren’t we?” 

Hermione’s face lit up at this. 

“Yes, we are! Professor Babbling is brilliant, isn’t she? When she can stay focused, anyway…” 

“Yeah, with a lot of help from you,” I chuckled. “Everyone in that class adores you, since you ask all the questions no one else wants to ask.” 

She smiled happily at me. 

“We’re in Hagrid’s class together,“ Harry finally spoke. “With Luna Lovegood.” 

I looked at him. This was my first time properly talking to Harry Potter, though of course I knew his name. Meeting him face to face, I realised he probably dealt with far more unwanted attention than I did, and thinking this, I tried desperately to stare at anywhere else but the scar on his forehead. 

“Ah, that reminds me,” Hagrid grinning beneath his dark, tangled beard. “How’d yeh like them Kelpies? Fascinatin’ creatures, eh?” 

“Oh, Hagrid, I loved them, they were all so wonderful,” I said warmly, and Hagrid beamed with pride. 

“Yeah, they were alright,” agreed Harry. 

“Hah… Right, need ter’ bring in somethin,’ hold on,” Hagrid grunted, almost toppling the whole table as he stood and shuffled out of the hut. 

“And - um - it was a great distraction, after the mess I’d made earlier,” I admitted, sheepish. 

“I heard it was bloody brilliant,” Ron mumbled on, ignoring Hermione’s warning glare. “Seamus kept talking about it. Wish I could’ve been there…” 

“Ron, I’m very sure she doesn’t want to repeat it,” said Hermione, glancing over to me. “Right?” 

“Actually, it’s fine,” I said quickly, surprising myself. 

“But it’s not like you think, Ron. Um, It was more that my wand backfired, it wasn’t intentional.” 

This didn’t seem to discourage him at all, though. 

“I’ve had that before, too,” he winced. “When my wand broke, y’know, it kind of snapped - remember, Harry? - and my spells went bad.” 

“Mine’s just like that,” I told him, shaking my head. “It’s always been a fickle thing.” 

“Shame you didn’t get Malfoy, as well, though,” Harry remarked dryly. “Both of them probably deserve it just as much.” 

“Really, you two,” scolded Hermione. 

But I couldn’t help cracking a grin. The absurd hilarity of the situation had finally hit me. Laughing about it - instead of moping - was better in the end.

“But I was sort of expecting things to go wrong, somehow,” I continued; I was on a roll now. “The day before, I was in Divination, and… I got the Grim.” 

Fang whined and rested his head in my lap, slobbering great big globs of saliva all over my jeans. I scratched him affectionately between the ears. 

“Tell you you’d drop dead, I ‘spose?” Harry grumbled. 

I nodded, almost giggling in remembrance. 

“Well, Professor Trelawney is very flaky, isn’t she,” said Hermione reprovingly. “Honestly, Jasmine, I don’t think you should worry about it.”

“Yeah, It’s not as bad as Trelawney says it is,” Harry agreed, and then he added: “Actually, when I saw it, some - er - good things happened, too.” 

“They did?” Curious, I raised my eyebrows.

But Harry said no more, merely exchanged furtive glances with Ron and Hermione. I was encroaching on a social circle I didn’t belong to yet, I realised. 

Just then, Hagrid burst in through the door. 

“Ooh,” I couldn’t help but exclaim. “What’s in there?” 

Huffing and puffing, he was hefting a large, lumpy sack over his massive shoulder. It thunked as he set it down, resting it nearby the hearth. 

“‘Fraid tha’s a secret,” Hagrid said, winking. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione all looked quite hesitant. 

“Yeh have ter’ keep ‘em nice and warm, yeh see,” Hagrid went on, misty-eyed as he gazed at it. He swaddled it lovingly in a patched blanket. 

“Hagrid…” Hermione had knit her brows worriedly. 

Our attention was swiftly diverted away from this mysterious sack as Hagrid broke out the rock cakes. Conversation was light and pleasant from then on, with no mention of Professor Snape or Grims. Ron was a laugh, and I found that Harry had a very dry, sarcastic wit that was enjoyable to spar with. Hermione and I, the resident cat lovers, even agreed on a play date of sorts for Crookshanks and Peaches, before we were eventually sent away:

“Well, ‘s awful late!” Hagrid boomed, flushing up to his ears in a way that was decidedly suspicious. “Yeh’d best be goin’ off, then, off yeh trot!” 

After he ushered us out, we tramped across the campus grounds back to Hogwarts. The frigid September air whistled right through me, and I tightened my scarf around my neck, shivering. Still disconnected from the trio’s link of friendship, I lagged behind, watching as the evening stars peeked out from the clouds and twinkled. For a while, I lingered among the howling gales. 

And then, underneath the bruising sky, I saw it: There, lurking silently on the horizon, was an enormous, shaggy black dog.  Dread washed over me like a bucket of ice water, and I rushed to rejoin the group. No, it probably belonged to Hagrid… But that foreboding image stayed with me right up till midnight, as I lay beside Peaches, her rumbling purrs soothing me into sleep.

“Here we are, then. King’s Cross Station.”

The cabbie huffed gruffly. I checked the fare metre and, wincing, fished a few crumpled pound notes out of my purse. His eyes flashed for a moment, as if he’d noticed the bronze knuts and silver sickles gleaming at the bottom. I clasped it shut tightly, pressed the cash into his open palm and withdrew. 

“Thanks,” I told him, wrenching open the car door and swinging my legs out. The rush of cool, crisp London air felt like a shotgun blast to the face. 

“No problem.” 

I had barely hauled all my luggage out of the backseat before the taxi bustled away with a puff of smoke. Peaches meow-ed at me despondently from inside her carrier as I lifted her, shuffling her mittens against the bars, and my heart wavered. 

“Nearly there, baby,” I said softly. “Nearly there.” 

I glanced up at the sky. The clouds were cast in pearly white, though it occasionally threatened to release a patch of sunlight; or a spattering of rain. King’s Cross was packed with commuters in the early morning, and I cautiously nudged into a throng of people as I hurried inside, muttering apologies. 

When I caught a glimpse of a ruffled, tawny owl flapping in someone’s cage, I couldn’t help but grin a little. I followed them up to a quiet, inconspicuous brick wall and watched as they carefully leaned into it and disappeared altogether. After a few seconds, I did the same. Stumbling onto the hidden platform, I met a sparse gathering of young folk, garbed in jewel-toned scarves of green, blue, yellow, red. 

Well, evidently house spirit was strong this year. 

The Hogwarts Express welcomed me with a thundering air horn, expelling a thick jet of steam. Peaches yowled and writhed around in a panic, so offered her a consoling finger to nibble on as I boarded. Luckily, I found a free car; granted, I had made sure to get here as early as possible to avoid the crowds. I dropped my bags unceremoniously into the nearest booth. It was then I unclipped the carrier and allowed my cat to dive underneath the table. 

“I’m sorry, girl,” I cooed. She mewled quietly. 

Her unease was pacified a little as I soothed a finger over her striped, furry head. I was able to coax her out with some treats, and soon she was curled up and snug on my lap. As I unwound my sapphire scarf from my neck, I quickly checked my watch: 10:13. It would be over half an hour’s wait before the train left. 

Settling into my booth, I squirmed from the pack of butterflies whirling in my belly. You’ll get used to it, they told me. Soon it’ll lose its lustre, business as usual. But I could barely contain my excitement. Another year at Hogwarts! The only way I could resist the urge to shoot up and pace was by rummaging through my bag; my fingers skimmed over the latest Daily Prophet and soon it was in my hands, affectionately chin-rubbed by Peaches. 

The front page flicked past like an old black and white movie reel, featuring a gaggle of triumphant Quidditch players I couldn’t recall. I straightened it out, searching for the ‘short stories’ section; they had announced a while ago that they were holding a competition. My very-much-so muggle household had grown used to receiving news owls over the years, just as it had grown used to many strange and unusual things. Really, I was such an odd child that many of those magical peculiarities flew under the radar, but levitation is not a symptom unless the diagnosis is ‘witch.’ 

Then, a tentative rap on the glass spooked me out of my reverie. I looked up to see a violet-haired student steadying themselves against the car door. 

“Hey, am I allowed to sit in here? None of the other cars are… Um, accepting.” She shifted awkwardly from side to side, as if expecting me to hiss at her. 

“Uh, yeah, of course! Sit down.”  

They tip-toed in and closed the door shut behind them. I saw she was also struggling with a cat carrier. I grimaced as I felt Peaches’ claws dig into my thighs in alarm. She didn’t stay in my lap for long, opting to hide as far away from the intruder as possible. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare your cat,” said the visitor somberly. They casted a sad, longing gaze towards the antisocial Peaches.

“It’s okay, she’s just like this around other people.” I reassured her, and craned down to scratch my cat’s chin. “Doesn’t like anyone except me.” 

They nodded, sliding into the chair opposite to me. For a moment, I seriously wracked my brains trying to figure out if I had met her before. I knew, at least, that they couldn’t have been in my own house, because I would’ve made a point of it to befriend any other cat owner in my house. 

“Um, so what’s your name?” I asked, pushing my faltering glasses back up the bridge of my nose. 

“Scarlet. Scarlet Pimpernel,” she said simply. She undid the locks on the carrier and released two slinky cats. “The tabby’s Pip, cow cat’s Fiz.” 

“Aw,” I leaned forward to try and lure one over. “I’m Jasmine Daly. From Ravenclaw.” 

“Oh. That’s nice.” 

Silence. I turned back to my Daily Prophet and continued sifting through the usual quidditch feed and Skeeter’s latest gossipy drivel (“THE LOST GENERATION: Are our young wizards becoming lazier?”), past the continuous reports on Black and over the dull, meagre contest entries. Eventually, I got fed up and dug out one of my books to read instead, groaning at the sight of the well-worn pages partially fractured from the spine. Again. 

“I’m from Slytherin,” Scarlet spoke up finally. “But I’m also a muggleborn, so… Yeah, that’s basically why no one wants me around.” 

She chuckled, though it sounded rather forced. 

“Um, no worries. I’m not gonna kick you out or anything,” I said quickly, fumbling with my wand. “You’re fine.” 

I could’ve sworn they heaved a relieved sigh. 

“Reparo! There, that should do it… Sort of…” 

The atmosphere gradually relaxed, and after a few minutes, Peaches leaped back onto my lap with a squeaky chirrup, demanding attention. Pip, too, took to winding sleekly around my legs, though Fiz loafed safely beside Scarlet, muscles twitching. 

“… So, what’s your book about?” 

I peeked up over the cover at her. 

“‘Discovering Dragons,’” I said. “I know it looks childish, but I’ve found none other that goes as in-depth as this. Call it an old obsession of mine.”  

Dog-earing my page and turning it over gently in my hands, I felt a sort of nostalgic fondness swell in my chest. With its yellowed paper and peeling casing, it was nothing special, but it was the first token of the wizarding world I was truly able to call my own. 

“It’s about nine years old, this one,” I continued. 

“Huh. It looks… Scruffy.” 

“Yeah, I’ve only read it about fifty times, which is why it’s always falling apart. Poor thing probably just wants me to end it already.” 

As if to protest, the spine cracked ominously. 

“Hey, can I borrow that?” Scarlet suddenly asked. 

Nudging up my glasses again, I followed her pointed finger towards my discarded newspaper. 

“Um, sure.” 

My curiosity got the better of me, and I ended up distracted by the photograph of the feinting quidditch player on the back of it. Once or twice, I saw the paper sag down and reveal the headline: ‘Illegal Duelling Matches Endangering Local Muggles,’ before Scarlet drew it furtively closer. Quite engrossed, she pushed a few loose strands of purple hair back into her headband. 

“I love your hair, by the way,” I blurted out. 

For the first time, their mouth cracked into a smile. 

“Thanks. I dyed it a couple months ago.” 

Then, the compartment door slid open again. This time, I recognised our visitor a little: Minoes, who had been in my Ancient Runes class last year. 

“Scarlet, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Minoes was balancing an owl cage on her hip, her luggage hooked around her arm. At this, Scarlet pursed her lips morosely. 

“You know how people are with me.”

“Oh, I know,” said Minoes, turning politely to me now: “Hello. I don’t think we’ve really met before?”  

“Hi.” I tucked a stray lock behind my ear. “Um, we shared a few classes, but we haven’t spoken much. I’m Jasmine Daly.” 

“Minoes Vleerebosch, It’s nice to meet you.”

Whereas Scarlet dressed neutrally, Minoes’ emerald-green robes singled her out. Her necklaces clacked together as she sat down beside us. Her spotted owl chirped happily in its cage, seemingly oblivious to the hungry, feline stares and chop-licking. 

“This is Hannah Theresa,” Minoes told me, prying in a finger to stroke her feathers affectionately. 

“Awch, she’s awful cute,” I said. “Can I pet her?” 

“Yes, go on. She’s very gentle, she won’t peck you.” 

I shifted over a bit as Minoes opened the cage door and allowed me to reach a hand in. Hannah Theresa’s huge, black eyes stared back at me, as shiny as polished buttons. I brushed an experimental knuckle over her feathery head, and she felt soft as cotton. 

“Hannah Theresa always delivers my mail. I have lots of pen-pals to keep her busy, so it’s a good thing she’s so sweet-tempered with me.” 

“She’s lovely, such a wee dote…” 

Pip, meanwhile, had had quite enough of me by this stage, and padded over to rub Minoes’ ankles. 

“Hello. I know you,” she murmured, scratching him lovingly under the chin. “But who’s this?” 

Minoes nodded eagerly towards the curled up Peaches, who had taken shelter beneath the table in the face of yet another unknown intruder. 

“Oh, this is Peaches.” 

Her face lit up joyfully. 

“Hi, Peaches!” 

Minoes bent over to offer a hand. Peaches only dared a cautious sniff before burrowing further into the corner, seeking refuge behind my legs. 

“She’s just a bit shy…” I said dolefully. 

“That’s alright,” Minoes replied, straightening up. “I’m absolutely determined to win her over.” 

After some failed attempts, she brandished her wand - a smooth, elegant thing - and tapped her palm and each of her fingers, uttering something in Latin. To my surprise, this changed Peaches’ tune instantly, and soon she was purring and licking her hand; something she only ever did for me. 

“You must have a soft touch, Minoes,” I praised. 

“No, no,” she replied slyly. “It’s just a little trick I came up with… Has much the same effect as catnip.” 

“You chose our seats well, I think,” Minoes told Scarlet, who smiled faintly at her, handing me back my crinkled Daily Prophet issue.

“Anything interesting in there?”

“Um. No, not really,” Scarlet claimed. 

Just then, I felt our surroundings jolt abruptly. 

“Oh, the train's going… Do you mind if I just stay here with you and the kitties?” Minoes asked me. 

“No, not at all, it’s totally fine.” 

I hummed as we exited the station and chugged off into the countryside. Still a perfect stranger, I drifted off into my own niche for a while. Minoes produced a roll of ornamented parchment and scratched at it neatly with a quill, while Scarlet pulled their wand out and used magic to braid a turquoise-hued bracelet. 

When the compartment door opened for a third time, even Pip ducked for cover. There, smirking down at us, was the sharp, pointed face of Draco Malfoy. 

I couldn’t help but go rigid on instinct. My past experiences with Malfoy were unpleasant - owing to my Muggleborn background - so I typically stayed clear from him. It was bizarre to see him without his gigantic orbiting satellites, Crabbe and Goyle. Their absence only unnerved me more. Why was he here? 

“I thought I could smell something vile,” Malfoy said smugly, turning his pale, baleful eyes on me. “I guess it was just the stink of mudblood.” 

“Must’ve caught a whiff of yourself, Malfoy.” 

“Oh no, Pimpernel. It’s definitely you.” 

Before I could even open my mouth, Scarlet had taken the initiative to sink their teeth in. Admiring Scarlet’s ferocious glower, I felt a surge of bravery. 

“Where’s your two big dirty limpets?” I said crossly.  

“None of your business, Daly,” he snapped, looming over haughtily without even sparing me a glance. “Shut your filthy mouth before I do it for you.” 

“Oh, give it a rest, Draco!” Minoes scolded. 

But Malfoy ignored her completely, his lips twitching into a nasty scowl. He met Scarlet’s withering glare with one of his own. Scarlet gripped their wand so tightly her veins strained blue, and for a brief moment I thought they might actually hex him.

“What the fuck do you even want, Malfoy? Potter’s not here,” Scarlet growled. “Or does any old pair of glasses have you pitching a fit?” 

“You disgust me just the same,” he spat angrily, eyes narrowing. “That goes for the both of you. You shouldn’t even have been allowed in.” 

“Draco!” Minoes cried. 

Scarlet scoffed. 

“I bet the only reason you were accepted was nepotism,” she said scathingly. “Do you bribe your ‘friends’ to pretend to like you, too?” 

The two continued to glare fiercely at each other. The air crackled with malignant energy, and I reached cautiously for my wand, heart rate spiking…

“You’re a waste of my time,” he snarled. “But watch yourself, Pimpernel. If you keep dragging your slime around, this year might just end up being your last.”

With that, Malfoy slid the glass door shut and strutted arrogantly back to his Slytherin clique. 

“What are you gonna do, Malfoy, tell your daddy on me!?” Scarlet called after him furiously. 

“Ignore him,” Minoes advised. “He’s not worth it.” 

Still, I saw that she had crumpled up her embellished parchment and was now smoothing it over. I slumped in my seat, still twinging with indignance. 

“Malfoy doesn’t typically wait for permission before he spews his bile,” I said flatly. 

“Of course, I understand,” she added quickly. “Being called horrible slurs like that, I’m sure it’s awful… Draco can be so immature. ” 

I sighed. I wished I could’ve fought back as fiercely as Scarlet, instead of falling into a moody silence like last year. I didn’t quite have the nerve yet, though.  

“Better a mudblood than a prat,” Scarlet muttered under her breath, pocketing their wand. 

“Yes, I would say so,” Minoes agreed coolly. 

I immediately decided to befriend them both. 

Fortunately, the rest of our journey resumed peacefully after that little incident. My companions and I fell into a nice rhythm, talking on-and-off between pastimes. I was surprised with how at ease I felt in their presence, considering that I had never properly spoken to either of them before. When the trolley witch hobbled by, we even shared a bag of sweets, which led to us scrambling after a runaway chocolate frog in order to keep the cats from poisoning themselves. 

All in all, I got disturbingly sparse reading done. By evening, the lamps had flicked on, our pets sleepy and quiet. Leaning against the window, I saw the cloud-filled indigo sky, and caught the first glimpse of Hogwarts’ archaic spires and twinkling lights 

The Hogwarts Express huffed and shuddered to a halt. Stretching, we guided the animals back into their carriers and filed out of our compartment to join the queue of yawning students. It was only now I truly realised how famished I was; sugar hadn’t really been enough to sustain me for the whole trip. 

“Jesus, my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut,” I groaned. “Well, I don’t reckon we’ll be sat at the same table, so it’s been nice chatting with you two.” 

“Oh, but that doesn’t mean we’ll never be seeing each other again,” Minoes said brightly. “I’m sure we’ll have classes together, just like last year.” 

“Maybe.” I smiled back, feeling somewhat hopeful. 

The night blanketed down thick and foggy, coating the ground in solemn, grey clouds, and it chilled me into a shiver as we left the Hogwarts Express behind. One of my favourite professors, Hagrid, was hailing us with a glowing lantern. I grinned and waved happily at him, but he was too preoccupied with corralling the rowdy newcomers to notice me. 

“Do you think we’ll be in the same potions class again, Minoes?” Scarlet called idly from behind me. “I know that you wouldn’t drop it, anyway.” 

For some reason, she sniggered. 

“Did you?” Minoes asked, arching one dark brow. 

“Nope! You’re stuck with me.” 

They drifted off into the Slytherin crowd and I lost sight of them. My body was still aching from being stuffed in a train car for so long. I climbed into one of the horseless carriages - though I knew from my own inquiries that they were pulled by the mysterious and fascinating thestrals - and slid in beside my housemate, Padma Patil. 

I felt a bubbly wave of giddiness wash over me again as we set off for the university proper; This year would prove to be a great one, I was sure of it. 

Love Interest: Sirius Black

Patronus: Leopardess

Wand: Hazel wood, Unicorn Hair core, 11¾ Inches, Surprisingly Swishy flexibility

Good Classes: Charms, Wizardly Literature, DaDA, Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures

Bad Classes: Potions, Transfiguration, Flying, Arithmancy, Divination

Appearance: Brown hair, blue eyes. Glasses.

Blood Status: Muggleborn

Personality: daydreamy, curious, bookworm often found in the library, creative, enjoys joking around, dry/morbid sense of humour, eclectic music taste, sweet tooth. animal lover, enjoys exploring Hogwarts and learning its mysteries, never quite grew out of the giddiness when first discovering magic.

Likes: The Moon & Stars, Sugar Quills, Chocolate Frogs, Hot Chocolate,

Dislikes: Blood Racism, Tea, Math

Hobbies: Reading & Writing, Listening to Music, Stargazing,

Pet: Tabby cat named Peaches

Other: