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Chapter Text

There are stories that do not begin.

They only remember that they once existed.

It is said that Hogwarts was born from the magic of its founders. But no one speaks of the magic that was older than walls, towers and stones. The magic that bound two souls that were never meant to be together.

Many centuries ago, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin stood face to face. Separated by ideals, united by a feeling they could never express aloud.

Their love was a silent spell, too powerful to be denied and too dangerous to be lived.

Salazar knew that their paths had to part.

Rowena knew that every word between them could be a farewell.

And yet she dreamed that their souls would find each other again, beyond time, bloodlines and history.

Before Salazar left Hogwarts, he made a promise that went deeper than any runic inscription:

"If not in this life, Rowena...

...then in another. I will find you."

The ancient magics heard this vow.

And they answered.

Since then, over the centuries, there have always been two who sought each other without knowing why.

Two who recognised each other without ever having met before.

Two who were touched by a feeling they could not put into words.

They came and went.

Their names changed.

So did their lives.

But something remained.

Something that reminded her of it in quiet shadows.

In a glance that lingered too long.

In a gesture that seemed too familiar.

In a premonition that could not be explained.

And now...

...somewhere between the walls of an old school, where history and the present overlap, the magic seems to be reawakening. Unseen, unnamed, impatient.

Like a breath that has been held for far too long.

Something old is stirring.

Something forgotten is whispering.

Something is searching.

Who or what... no one knows.

Not yet.

Because some promises never die.

They wait.

Chapter Text

01 September 1044

The first step into unfamiliar freedom is often the hardest.

The Hogwarts Express had just left London behind when Rowena Fawley quietly closed the compartment door behind her. She placed her travel bag neatly on the rack and sat down by the window, her back straight, her hands folded neatly. She could have been mistaken for a portrait, had it not been for her eyes.

Her eyes revealed something else.

Something between tension and longing.

Something she herself hardly dared to name.

The train picked up speed, a rhythmic clacking filling the compartment, as if to whisper softly that she could no longer change her mind. Behind her lay a home that had never felt like hers. Ahead of her lay Hogwarts, a place she knew only from books, paintings and her parents' sober comments.

Rowena slowly pulled the letter from the inside pocket of her coat. The parchment was new, but the words on it felt old, almost as old as every reproach and expectation that had accompanied her throughout her life.

She unfolded it.

Rowena,

Your mother and I expect you to behave properly.

Don't embarrass yourself.

No incidents.

No lack of self-control.

You represent the Fawley name. Never forget that.

No greeting.

No joy that her daughter was allowed out into the world for the first time.

Not even a ‘take care’.

Rowena lowered her gaze.

Her chest tightened, a quiet, invisible weight she had known since childhood. Something inside her rebelled against it, a spark that had been gasping for air for years. But her body obeyed the old reflexes: shoulders back, hands still, face composed.

She ran her fingers over the ink.

How many times had she heard these words in recent years?

How often had she been reminded that mistakes were not an option in her family?

That she was different and therefore had to be even more perfect?

The train suddenly shook and Rowena took a slightly deeper breath.

It felt as if each jolt loosened another bond that tied her to her parents' house. Maybe... just maybe... Hogwarts could be a new beginning.

She turned her gaze outside. The landscape passed by in long, green stripes, as if the world was determined to carry her away faster than she could think.

Then the compartment door opened abruptly.

"Excuse me... oh!"

A young woman stood in the doorway, barely out of breath, but with a liveliness that immediately made the room seem brighter. Her red hair was neatly pinned into a tight bun, yet a single curl rebelliously came loose and fell across her face. Her school uniform was neat, a badge gleamed on her chest and the yellow and black colours on her coat marked her as a Hufflepuff.

Rowena had read a lot about Hogwarts and its traditions over the summer, so she was sure that this girl should be extraordinarily loyal and friendly if she was sorted into Hufflepuff.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." Her voice was warm, confident, and yet polite. "The other compartments are practically full. May I…?" She pointed to the empty seat.

Rowena blinked in surprise, momentarily lost from her rigid stance.

She then nodded with an elegant, controlled gesture.

"Of course. Please take a seat."

The other smiled, a genuine, unobtrusive smile and sat down opposite her.

She didn't slide into the seat; she sat down: neatly, but not stiffly, her hands in her lap, just as it should be. Noble and yet somehow relaxed.

"Thank you very much. I'm Nimue Blackthorne."

She removed the gloves from her fingers and placed them folded on her lap.

"I'm head girl"

Rowena nodded again, a little unsure of how much she should say.

"Rowena Fawley."

"Ah." Nimue looked at her kindly, but by no means assertively. "Your name doesn't ring a bell. New student?"

Rowena unconsciously straightened her shoulders.

That was a question she had prepared for or at least believed she was prepared for.

"Yes. I... will be starting in the seventh grade this year."

Nimue, who was just taking off her gloves, paused in her movement. Her forehead creased slightly, not suspiciously, but in wonder.

"In the seventh year?", she asked slowly. "That's... unusual."

She sat up straighter as if sorting through the information.

"Purebloods are usually either homeschooled from a young age or go to Hogwarts starting from the first year. But joining for the last year... that doesn't really happen."

There was no accusation in her voice, only genuine interest.

Rowena lowered her gaze.

"It was... my family's decision."

Nimue studied her face for a moment, as if carefully checking whether her words had gone too far. Then she nodded with a gentleness that surprised Rowena.

"Well... it's certainly not my business." She smiled again, less stormy, but warm. "But a new environment can be good, new people... Hogwarts can be intimidating, even if you've been there for years. That's a brave step."

Rowena lowered her gaze. Courage.

No one had ever told her that she was brave.

"Thank you very much," she finally said. "I hope I'll manage."

"Absolutely." Nimue hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully, before adding, "And if anything causes you trouble, a question, a room that won't open, or people who become unpleasant, you can always come to me. This is not just a sense of duty. I mean it sincerely."

Rowena looked up.

Honest.

A word that rarely sounded pleasant at home, but from Nimue's mouth... it was gentle.

"You are very kind, Miss Blackthorne," said Rowena.

"Call me Nimue. The times are... well, not exactly easy." Nimue smiled faintly. "A little kindness never hurt anyone."

It wasn't loud, it wasn't over the top.

It was real light. One that Rowena didn't remember ever having experienced.

Outside, a piece of forest passed by, and the shadows of the trees flickered over their faces. For a brief moment, Rowena noticed that her heart was no longer beating quite as heavily as before.

A strange feeling.

Almost pleasant.

Perhaps, she thought, this was the first step into a life that finally belonged to her.

"May I ask," Nimue began cautiously, "if you already have plans for your house? You know... where you want to be placed?"

Rowena sighed softly, almost imperceptibly, before she answered.

"No. I will be sorted with the first graders at the welcome ceremony."

She felt that for a moment she could let go of a piece of her reserved demeanour. The tension in her shoulders eased a bit.

"Well, this will be exciting," Nimue said softly, but with a glimmer of anticipation in her voice. "The selection is always a special event. And some houses even surprise those who have been preparing for Hogwarts for a long time."

Rowena nodded and looked again at the passing greenery.

Maybe... she thought, this was indeed a beginning. A beginning she had chosen herself. Not the instructions of her parents, not the expectations of her family. Just her.

A long whistle pierced the calm atmosphere of the train, and the wheels clattered faster over the tracks.

"We're approaching Hogsmeade," Nimue remarked, her voice now a bit brighter without being intrusive. "The station is small, but very... lively. You'll see. And right after that... Hogwarts. I believe you won't be able to overlook it."

Rowena took a deep breath. The windows reflected the last rays of the setting sun. Her heart raced, not out of fear, but from a mix of anticipation and excitement. The train braked gently and a soft jolt made the compartment door vibrate. Voices echoed through the corridor, footsteps approached.

"It's time," murmured Nimue, who was already standing up and lifting her bag from the seat. "Ready for your first time at Hogwarts?"

Rowena straightened up, smoothed her hands over her skirt and nodded. "Yes... I think so."

And so she stepped out of the compartment, into the aisle filled with voices, suitcases, and candlelight that fell through the high windows of the station roof. The world outside was small, but the world that lay ahead of her was anything but that. Hogwarts was waiting. And with it, a future she had only glimpsed in dreams.

-00-

The carriage stopped at the edge of the large lake and Rowena carefully climbed down. The leaves rustled under her shoes and the cold wind brushed over her face, as if it wanted to warn her and greet her at the same time.

Before her rose Hogwarts, the towers dark and majestic against the midnight blue sky. A warm glow emanated from the windows, and candlelight flickered like a gentle promise.

Nimue was already a step ahead, waved to her and pointed to the winding path to the main gate. Rowena followed, her hands tightly gripping the suitcase handle, her eyes focused on every detail. Every stone wall, every torch, every figure on the gate seemed like a reminder that she could never return. She felt a strange tug in her chest, a mix of awe, nervousness and quiet anticipation.

The hall opened up before her like a living painting. The ceiling mirrored the night sky, the starlight twinkled between the floating candles. The long tables were already set, the dishes gleamed in the warm light and a faint scent of firewood, roasted meat and fresh bread lingered in the air. Voices hummed like a gentle murmur and the students who had already arrived turned around curiously.

Rowena paused for a moment, letting her gaze sweep over the rows. Everything was bigger than she had expected and at the same time... familiar, like a dream she must have dreamed before.

The protective arrangement of the tables, the precise alignment of the chairs, the flickering candles, everything seemed like an orderly system.

Nimue gently pushed her forward.

"Come on, you should probably line up behind the first graders. The ceremony is about to begin." Her voice was warm, soothing and yet there was a hint of excitement in it.

Rowena stood behind the little students, who were whispering and laughing excitedly. She observed the other students: Some whispered softly, some laughed nervously, others seemed to be examining themselves, as if they were aware of the significance of this place.

A deep call suddenly echoed through the hall. The conversations fell silent as a weighty voice rang out: "Welcome, students of Hogwarts!"

All eyes turned to the front of the hall. An older teacher, tall and dressed in dark robes, stepped onto the platform. His gaze swept over the rows of new students, scrutinising but not unfriendly.

Headmaster Armando Dippet.

"You are now entering a community that has grown over centuries. Here, knowledge is shaped, skills are refined, friendships are forged and tests are taken that will not only assess your knowledge but also your character."

Rowena listened, her heart beating a little faster. Every word echoed within her, like a quiet admonition and a promise at the same time. She felt the expectation in the air, the unwritten weight of generations that had sat before her.

"You will soon learn your houses." Dippet's voice became even more serious, almost solemn. "The decision is made by the Sorting Hat. He recognises the qualities that lie within each of you and assigns you to the house where you can thrive the most."

The students straightened up, some exchanged excited glances, others nervously hid their hands under the table. Rowena felt a slight tingling in her fingertips as the thought of the unknown house seeped into her. A part of her wanted to hide, the other wanted to know where she belonged.

A second professor led the new students individually to a small podium on which the Sorting Hat sat, old and mysterious. Gradually, the shouting from the hat echoed through the hall as soon as it announced a house. The remaining members cheered loudly, trying to outdo each other more and more.

"Rowena Fawley."

When Rowena's name was called, a murmur went through the hall. The older students huddled together or stretched to see something.

Nervously, she walked up the stairs to the small podium and sat down on the little chair, which looked more than just uncomfortable.

Patterned, she let her eyes wander over the numerous classmates and discovered some familiar faces.

First and foremost, Nimue, who smiled encouragingly at her.

The weight of the hat on her head came unexpectedly. At first, she only felt the rough surface, then a faint pulling that seemed to wind through her skull like an invisible band. The hall faded from her consciousness; only the voice echoed in her head.

"Ah... interesting... very interesting..."

Rowena breathed quietly. The voice was old, much older than anything she knew. It sounded both strict and curious, almost as if the hat could see her innermost self without her being able to name it herself.

"You are... cautious, controlled. Disciplined to the last detail. A being that is very self-aware, always mindful of form and posture..."

Every word made her flinch, but she tried to maintain her composure.

Yes, she thought quietly, this is how it must be. Perfect, precise, without a misstep.

"But there is more. A spark, something you don't control... a pull to the depths, to ancient things. You are curious about things that others don't even notice. Your magic... it's different."

Rowena swallowed. She felt that it was true. For a long time, she had tried to hide, organise, and tame this power. For years, she had lived under the watchful eyes of her parents, who branded every uncontrolled impulse as a weakness. But now, here, on the podium before all eyes, the control was suddenly a thin veil that threatened to tear at any moment.

"You could lose yourself in books and knowledge... or in power. Your mind is sharp, your intuition stronger than your pride. But do you also want to... or do you fear?

A shiver ran through her. Fear? Maybe. But also something else, an unexpected tingle of anticipation that she hardly dared to name.

"You have the potential for great things, truly great things. But it's not just in your hands. It lies within you... and in what shaped you before you even knew you were being shaped."

Rowena closed her eyes. The words felt like a mirror, looking deeper than any test, any stern gaze from her parents. The power she had felt for years, the mysterious abilities she had to suppress, the hat recognised them immediately.

"You are wise enough to make your own choice. But consider: Where you go, your path is shaped. Your heart, your mind, your talent… and a spark that you might not fully understand yet.”

Rowena felt the hat examining her, like a silent guardian showing her all the possibilities. A quiet whisper within her spoke up, barely more than a hint: Here I can be who I am. Or who I could be.

The voice lowered, almost gently: "Gryffindor...? Ravenclaw..? Slytherin...? Hufflepuff...?”

Rowena's heart raced.

She thought of her parents, the strict order, the expectations that had been imposed on her for years. She thought of the magic that pulsed deep within her, hidden, ancient, and hungry for space.

Ravenclaw... flickered a thought in her mind.

Wisdom, knowledge, intellect. But also secrets, depths that only a few fathom.

Yes.

It was not an easy thought. Not an easy decision. But it was honest.

The hat took a last breath, as if it sensed her decision: "Very good... very good. You will thrive here. But remember: Who you are is more than just your house."

The gentle weight lifted from her head, the voices of the hall receded and Rowena opened her eyes. She was ready.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat finally shouted, its voice echoing only in her head, as if it were an echo from long ago.

A quiet breath escaped her.

Ravenclaw. The house whose name had accompanied her for years like a whisper in old stories. The house of the founder, after whom she was named. A glimmer of pride coursed through her, so subtle that it was barely visible. And at the same time, a tiny tremor: Here she was new, different, alone among like-minded people whose history she did not yet know.

Rowena stood up, straightened her back and followed the teachers' signs to the stairs leading from the Great Hall to the common rooms. The hall was still filled with the light of the floating candles, the warmth of the fires and the scent of the food, but she barely noticed any of it.

Her heart was with the house that was now supposed to be her home.

The staircase initially seemed endless. Row after row of stone steps, walls lined with paintings of witches and wizards from long ago. The portraits looked at them, some curiously, others seriously, as if they were judging their intentions. Rowena felt a strange pull, as if the eyes of the past were scrutinising and at the same time greeting her.

Finally, she reached the door to the Ravenclaw Towers. A portrait of an old lady, in deep blue robes, leaned slightly forward.

"New here?", she asked, her voice warm but stern.

"Yes," Rowena replied quietly, her voice composed.

"Then enter, if you solve this riddle: I can fly without wings, cry without eyes. I can see the stars without looking. Who am I?"

Rowena felt a familiar tingling in her forehead, not fear, but concentration. Her fingers glided over the smooth surface of the wood as thoughts flashed through her mind like lightning.

Flying without wings... crying without eyes...

It had to be meant metaphorically. Books, magic, the hidden...

Rowena took another breath, then spoke the words that felt right.

"A ghost."

A brief flash of the emblem and then the door opened silently. A cool, blue light streamed from the room and a pleasant scent of old books and wax greeted her.

Rowena stepped inside.

The rooms were high, with vaulted ceilings, narrow windows through which the moon shone and tapestries that told stories of the past. A soft crackle of candles filled the room. It was a place where knowledge breathed and yet it seemed to whisper secrets that only the most attentive ears could perceive.

An older student noticed her immediately. He wore a dark blue scarf that displayed Ravenclaw's colours and politely inclined his head.

"Welcome to Ravenclaw," he said in a calm, friendly voice. "I am Edwin, seventh year. And you are...?"

"Rowena Fawley," she replied, her voice quiet but controlled, polite as she was accustomed to being.

Edwin nodded appreciatively. "Nice to have you here. If you have any questions or if something is unclear to you, just let me know. You will settle in quickly. Ravenclaw is big, but you can always find someone who can help."

Rowena looked around. Some students looked at her curiously, others read in their books. Everything was new and yet... familiar. The calmness and order of the room soothed her in an unexpected way.

"Thank you," she finally said. It was a simple word, but she meant it sincerely.

Edwin smiled. "Then make yourself comfortable. The common room belongs to you now just as much as it does to us."

Rowena took a few steps further, letting her gaze glide over the old shelves, the tall windows, and the soft carpets. She took a deep breath. Here she was safe. Here she could learn, develop, and perhaps one day understand why her magic was different from that of most others.

Chapter Text

02 September 1944

The first thing Rowena noticed was the light.

It fell in long, narrow strips through the high windows of the dormitory and settled like a silken veil over the room. The sky outside was still pale, not quite blue, more of a gentle, early grey. The air was cool, but not unpleasant. It smelt of wool, old books and a hint of lavender, which apparently came from one of the beds.

Rowena blinked, slowly sat up and brushed her hair from her forehead. For a moment, she had to orient herself; the room was different from her usual bedroom at home: brighter, taller, more open. A place that wasn't her own, and yet... somehow less confining.

The other beds had already started to move. At the left window stood a girl with copper-red hair that appeared almost golden in the morning sun. She was in the process of braiding her hair and looked at herself in the mirror of the old washstand with an expression that was both confident and scrutinising. Her resemblance to Nimue was immediately apparent, the same hair, the same eyes, but her posture was... more nuanced. Head held a bit higher, shoulders straight, a touch of proudly elevated elegance. She noticed Rowena's gaze in the mirror and turned around.

"Ah, you're awake." Her voice was warm, but with a tone that indicated she was used to being listened to. "Good morning. I hope we weren't too loud yesterday, even though you fell asleep right away."

Rowena blushed slightly. "I was very tired. But good morning... Seraphina, right?"

"Exactly." Seraphina took a step towards her and looked her over openly, not rudely, but curiously, perhaps with a spark of assessment. "Nimue has already told me about you. Rowena Fawley, right? Welcome to Ravenclaw."

Before Rowena could respond, someone moved to her right. A blonde girl sat on her bed, carefully buttoning her school shirt. Her hair was bright and straight, almost silver in the morning light. Her movements were calm, precise, almost meditative. She looked up, her eyes friendly and reserved at the same time.

"Eloise Rosier," she introduced herself softly, with a gentle smile that immediately reassured Rowena a little. "We wanted to greet you yesterday, but you fell asleep before we even blew out the candles."

Rosier.

A family of the Sacred Twenty Eight.

And yet, Eloise Rowena did not seem familiar. Maybe she, like herself, was left at home by her family for most events.

Rowena shrugged slightly. "The day was... long."

"We believe you," said Seraphina, as she tied a dark blue ribbon around her braided hair. "Starting at Hogwarts so late is unusual for anyone."

The sentence was spoken neutrally, without malice. But Rowena felt the familiar tension in her stomach. The topic would come up again; it was inevitable.

Eloise noticed it immediately. She gave Rowena a reassuring smile.

"If you need anything, questions, help, directions, just let me know. We're all in the same boat, no matter when you get on."

Seraphina nodded. "Exactly. And today is the first day of school. So..." She glanced out the window. "We should hurry if we want to catch a good breakfast."

Rowena smiled cautiously. "Thank you. Really."

While she got dressed, she observed the two other women, Seraphina energetic and at the same time elegant, Eloise gentle and attentive. Two very different personalities... and somehow both more pleasant than she had expected.

The path from the dormitory spiralled down the stairs of the Ravenclaw tower, past narrow windows through which the pale and cool morning light streamed in. The air in the corridors was fresh, almost invigorating; it smelt of stone, metal, and the distant aroma of bread and hot tea wafting from the direction of the Great Hall.

Seraphina walked ahead with brisk, elegant steps, a little faster than necessary, almost as if she were leading an invisible parade. Eloise walked calmly next to Rowena, the hem of her skirt floating lightly with each step.

"It's always a bit hectic in the morning," Eloise explained quietly. "Especially on the first day of school. Many are still tired... or nervous."

"Or both," Seraphina added without turning around. "And Ravenclaws always leave late because everyone had to find something in the room or just read a little something."

She looked over her shoulder and grinned mischievously.

"I suppose that will happen to you soon too."

"I hope not," murmured Rowena, which made Seraphina laugh.

As they descended the steps to the Great Hall, the air was already vibrating with voices. A hum made up of conversations, laughter, the clattering of cutlery and the fluttering of owls that brushed past the windows above.

Then they entered.

The Great Hall was a different entity in the morning light than it had been the previous evening. The candles still hovered over the long tables, but their light seemed softer. The enchanted ceiling above displayed a bright, clear sky with light wispy clouds that moved like cotton. Golden sunbeams broke through the illusion and cast warm spots on the polished wood of the tables.

Rowena involuntarily paused. The sight intoxicated her for a moment. She had seen pictures, read descriptions, but none of it had been so... alive. This was more than a hall; it was a centrepiece, a room full of breath and life.

Seraphina noticed her hesitant step and stopped.

"It's impressive, isn't it?" she asked, and this time there was genuine warmth in her voice. "It never quite goes away."

She led them to the Ravenclaw table. Students moved a little to the side to make room for them. There was honey and porridge, warm bread, fresh butter, tea and coffee and in the middle floated silver bowls that filled themselves again and again as if by magic.

Rowena sat down between the two girls. Eloise poured her tea without asking, simply with the gentle certainty of someone who meant well.

"Thank you," Rowena said quietly.

"Of course," replied Eloise.

While they ate, Rowena curiously looked around the hall. The houses were clearly distinguishable from each other: Gryffindor loud and laughing, Hufflepuff cosy and friendly, Slytherin disciplined, focused.

And then her gaze got stuck.

Not because she knew someone.

But because a single student at the Slytherin table seemed to change the air around him.

He didn't stand out for his loudness. On the contrary. But a kind of invisible gravity emanated from him, as if the space unconsciously orientated itself around him.

Dark hair, smooth and flawless.

A face so symmetrical that it almost seemed unreal, as if someone had drawn it with too much precision.

A silence hung around him that was neither cool nor warm, but… penetrating.

The other students around him talked, joked, and laughed. But their bodies all orientated towards him, as if he were the centre, without them even noticing. He spoke calmly and deliberately. No grand gestures. No broad smile.

But every word seemed to carry weight, so those nearby leaned in involuntarily to catch it.

So speaks someone who knows he is being listened to, Rowena thought.

Then he raised his head, quite casually, as if by chance.

And his eyes found hers.

It was only seconds.

A fleeting glance.

But it felt as if the room suddenly no longer thought of sounds or light or movement. Something cold, fine, precise brushed against her skin, like an invisible finger that tested, observed, evaluated.

And at the same time, there was a strange pulling deep inside her, warm and heavy and inexplicable. She blinked and in that tiny movement, the moment seemed to shatter.

He looked away again, turning to his tablemates as if nothing had happened. The aura around him slipped back into its apparent innocence, but Rowena felt the aftershock.

A breath that no longer fit in her chest.

A heartbeat that didn't quite sound normal.

"Is everything alright?", asked Eloise beside her, her voice gentle.

Rowena set her cup down.

"Yes. I... was just looking around."

But that wasn't entirely true.

Something about that boy had etched itself into her perception, quietly but inescapably, like a shadow that doesn't depend on light.

Rowena forced her gaze away from the Slytherin table and returned to her breakfast. Seraphina and Eloise had resumed their conversations, but both occasionally cast her scrutinising glances, as if to make sure she was okay.

"So," Seraphina finally began, "now that you officially belong to us, we should at least give you a brief overview. It would be extremely awkward if you accidentally walked into the wrong room tomorrow morning."

Eloise nodded in agreement. "Our schedule is... well, quite demanding. The teachers hold the seventh graders particularly accountable."

"That sounds reasonable," Rowena replied calmly. "I'm looking forward to the class."

Seraphina twisted her lips into a crooked smile. "They all say that at first."

Eloise lightly nudged her with her elbow. "Don't be like that. But alright, where do we start? Maybe with Transfiguration?"

Seraphina sighed melodramatically. "Professor Dumbledore. A brilliant wizard, no question... but sometimes I'm not sure if he even notices that his students exist when he's deep in thought about something."

"Something?", asked Rowena.

"Everything," Eloise replied dryly. "Theoretical magical constructs, alchemical patterns, star-magic formulas or why a cheese in Hogsmeade supposedly moves by itself in winter. He is lovable, but somewhat... dreamy and he undoubtedly prefers Gryffindor."

Rowena had to smile. "That sounds... interesting."

"Oh, he is!", said Seraphina. "But he expects perfection. If you have weak nerves, you should take a deep breath beforehand."

"And then we have Professor Merrythought for Defence Against the Dark Arts," Eloise added. "She is strict but fair. And very experienced."

"She can tell if you're lying with just a single glance," said Seraphina. "And you better not lie to her. She doesn't like that at all."

Rowena nodded attentively and took a sip of tea. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Potions will probably be the... most difficult class," Eloise said cautiously.

Rowena tilted her head slightly. "Why?"

Seraphina exchanged a glance with Eloise before she answered. "Professor Slughorn is... well, he prefers students who put in effort and show discipline. A lot of discipline. He is as precise as a clockwork and expects the same from us."

"And he loves the Slytherins," Eloise added.

Rowena listened attentively, without showing how much she was working internally. Every name, every hint was new to her. She navigated through this web of traditions, sympathies and unspoken tensions, as if moving through a room full of invisible lines.

Eloise changed the subject. "And then there's Professor Kettleburn for the Care of Magical Creatures. He is..."

"He is not the brightest candle on the cake," Seraphina interjected. "You'll see what I mean."

Rowena smiled politely. "That sounds like a busy week."

"Oh, believe me, it will be," said Eloise, carefully folding her napkin. "And... if you ever have any trouble, you can come to us. We are happy to help."

Rowena sensed a warmer, unobtrusive kindness in the words. Not forced, not out of a sense of duty. Simply genuine.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I appreciate that."

-00-

The clinking of plates faded, conversations dwindled and the first students were already streaming towards the doors. Rowena, Seraphina and Eloise also stood up, their cloaks rustling softly as they moved into the stream pouring out of the Great Hall.

"Our first class is Defence," Eloise reminded, gripping her folder tighter. "Professor Merrythought likes punctuality."

"What means: don't dawdle," Seraphina added, even though she herself didn't look rushed at all. "She supposedly once took points off a student because he was two minutes late. Because of a knotted shoelace."

"A remarkable strictness," murmured Rowena.

"She's been here for over thirty years," Eloise explained. "I believe that over time, one doesn't become dull, but rather... sharper."

The three mingled with the other year groups that were spreading out in the corridors. The murmurs grew louder the higher they climbed the steps and Rowena absorbed everything: the ancient walls, the mysterious shadows between the arches, the faint pull of old magic in the stones. Here, everything breathed history.

A quiet laugh behind them made Seraphina turn around briefly, but she quickly turned back.

"Slytherins," she said curtly, without further explanation.

"The classroom is up on the third floor," said Eloise. "A little out of the way, but that's probably intentional. You learn better in peace, says Merrythought."

"In peace and under pressure," Seraphina added. "A strange mix, but... it works."

They turned a corner and the corridor became narrower, quieter. Torches cast warm light on the stone walls. Individual students walked ahead of them, some whispering, others already with serious expressions. Rowena felt a slight tension in the air, as if the atmosphere itself were a harbinger of what awaited her.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts room was at the end of the corridor. The door was old, made of dark wood, with heavy iron fittings. Next to it hung a simple brass plaque:

PROFESSOR MERRYTHOUGHT - DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS

"Ready?" Eloise asked gently.

"As ready as one can be," Rowena replied.

The door swung open, revealing a room that seemed plain at first glance yet radiated a peculiar, concentrated heaviness. The classroom was long and high, with stone walls that shimmered softly in the morning sun. Shadows hung over the narrow windows like heavy curtains.

The benches were arranged in neat rows, old but well-maintained, the tabletops smoothly polished from the use of countless generations of students. On the walls, there were no decorative pictures, no landscapes, no portraits. Instead, there were dark bookshelves, crammed with worn volumes, some with torn bindings, others carefully mended. Between the shelves stood individual glass display cases, containing strangely twisted objects, dull daggers, pale feathers, shattered crystals, marked by time and sorcery.

None seemed dangerous.

But each one seemed significant.

As if they were remnants of exams that would be better off on the shelf.

At the front stood a massive teacher's desk, on it a single, neatly closed binder. Behind it stood Professor Merrythought.

She was a small, wiry woman, perhaps in her late fifties, with silvery hair tightly bound into a bun. Her face was lined with fine wrinkles, yet nothing about it seemed soft. Her grey eyes were sharp and attentive, as if they registered every detail, every intention and every twitch.

There was something unyielding about her, as if she were less a teacher and more a living reminder that the art she taught was neither easy nor playful.

When the door slammed behind the girls, she briefly raised her head. Not abruptly, but rather calmly, precisely, like someone who is always vigilant, never surprised.

Her eyes glided over the newcomers, lingering a breath longer on Rowena, without any discernible reaction and then moved on as if they had already seen enough.

"Take a seat," she said calmly, her voice clear, without unnecessary friendliness.

Seraphina and Eloise guided Rowena to an empty table in the second row. The chairs were cold, the wood smooth under her fingers.

Rowena took a deep breath.

The atmosphere in the room seemed to thicken as more students took their seats.

As if the lesson demanded not only knowledge but also expectation.

Professor Merrythought stepped forward, folded his hands on the desk and looked at the class. Not stern. Not hostile. Just... scrutinising.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," she began calmly, "is, as you know, not a subject that can be mastered superficially. It thrives on vigilance, precision and self-control."

Her gaze swept over the rows, sharp and devoid of warmth.

"Some of you may possess talent. That's nice, but unimportant."

She let the words hang for a moment.

"Talent seduces to carelessness. And inattentiveness is the foundation of every failure."

Eloise sat next to Rowena like a model of attentiveness.

Seraphina's posture was upright, her hands neatly folded.

From the Slytherin side, hardly a sound was heard; they appeared composed, confident, ready.

"We'll start today with a simple exercise that you should have learnt two years ago," Merrythought finally said. "Protective charms, first degree. Fundamental, yet its purity determines its strength."

She raised her wand.

"Protego."

A semi-transparent shield arched before her, simple and flawless. It didn't flicker at all, it only dissolved when she wanted it to.

"I want," she continued, "each of you to perform the spell. First alone, then against a partner."

A few Slytherins exchanged amused glances.

Merrythought saw it.

"And for those who think this is trivial: I will be watching."

Rowena raised her wand.

She knew the spell; her father's teachers had demanded it from her countless times. But here, under foreign eyes, everything felt different.

"Protego."

The shield formed smooth and clear, brighter than expected, a gentle wave of light that pushed her arms back slightly. For a moment, the room became quieter. Two or three students turned their heads.

Seraphina next to her managed to conjure a good, but somewhat unstable shield. Eloise's was solid, controlled. On the Slytherin side, there were some impressively precise executions, but one stood out. The same boy who captured her attention at breakfast, whose shield seemed so effortless, as if the magic were a natural movement of his breath.

Rowena had to look away before something happened again that she didn't understand.

"Now partner work," announced Merrythought. "Shield against a harmless thrust spell. Not too aggressive, please. This is a control exercise, not a test of strength."

Pairs formed. Seraphina and Eloise worked together, while Rowena found herself paired with a Slytherin she didn't know. He looked at her appraisingly, polite enough, but distant.

"Ready?", he asked.

"Of course."

He aimed his wand.

"Expulso–minoris."

The push spell was weak, just a light pressure. But Rowena's shield absorbed it completely, as if it had fallen into water.

Her opponent raised an eyebrow in surprise.

They repeated the switch a few times, Rowena remained precise, controlled. She felt calm, focused, perhaps even a little more confident than before.

Then Merrythought clapped her hands loudly.

The sound was sharp as a hoofbeat.

"Enough. Sit down, please."

Rows of chairs slid across the stone floor.

Rowena felt the slight exhaustion in her arm, but also a feeling of… relief.

She hadn't embarrassed herself.

She had even held her own.

When everyone was seated, Merrythought closed her binder.

"I have formed a first impression," she said tonelessly. "Some of you have maintained your fundamentals well. Others will have to work."

Her gaze swept over the class.

"The class is now over."

A low murmur went through the rows as students began to stand up.

"Miss Fawley, Mr. Riddle," Merrythought said suddenly, without looking up, "stay for a moment."

Seraphina and Eloise cast worried glances at Rowena.

Rowena nodded to them and remained seated at her table as the door closed behind the last group and the room fell silent again. Only the mysterious young man, whom she had already noticed at breakfast and just now, remained silently behind her.

Mr. Riddle.

Then Merrythought slowly raised her gaze.

"Your execution of the protective spell was remarkably precise, Miss Fawley. Unlike what I expected, I must admit."

Rowena tried not to blush too much at this compliment.

"Thank you very much—"

"However, I'm not sure that you have all the resources to succeed in my class," Merrythought interrupted her. "The materials from your previous education are based solely on basic and simple spells. Unfortunately, hardly anything of what I have been teaching your classmates for six years."

Rowena froze in her seat like ice.

Don't disappoint us, Rowena. Her father's voice still echoed in her ears. She didn't want to embarrass her parents and now she was doing exactly that by having an inadequate education.

"Nevertheless, an idea came to my mind that I wanted to discuss with you," began Merrythought. "Mr. Riddle is one of the best students I have had the pleasure of teaching in my career as a professor and possesses an exceedingly high level of magical talent and knowledge. Since I do not have the time to explain every little detail to you, I spoke with the headmaster and suggest that you could receive tutoring from Mr. Riddle. Provided that you both agree."

"Of course, Professor."

The deep voice, which sounded for the first time, sent shivers down Rowena's arms. Rowena hardly dared to breathe.

Merrythought nodded curtly, as if she had expected the answer.

"Very well. And you, Miss Fawley?"

Rowena forced her gaze from the folds of her cloak up to the professor.

She wanted to say yes.

She had to say yes.

And yet…

The thought of spending so much time with this boy, whose mere presence thickened the air, whose eyes had almost pierced through her at the breakfast table... was unsettling.

Not unpleasant.

But unsettling.

"If..." She took a breath. "If Mr. Riddle is ready for it, so am I."

"I'm ready," he said.

Rowena couldn't say whether he said that because he wanted to or because he never considered any other answer anyway. His tone was not flattering, not derogatory, not interested. Just: obvious.

Merrythought closed the folder with a soft click.

"Good. I have also noted in your files that you sometimes have trouble controlling your magic, Miss Fawley?"

A nice way of saying that her magic was like that of a toddler when it came to control.

Rowena nodded mechanically. "Yes, Professor."

Merrythought's gaze narrowed slightly, not suspicious, just scrutinising.

"Miss Fawley," she said quietly. "I believe that you possess something... unusual. Uneducated, crude, but clearly perceptible."

She tilted her head.
"I suspect that it will be beneficial for you to gain control in addition to knowledge. And since Mr. Riddle is known for his control, he will be able to help you with that as well."

Rowena felt her heart skip a beat.

Unusual. Raw. A description she had heard once before. Only back then it had been accompanied by anger.

She swallowed. "I understand, Professor."

"Very well. You may go now."

She turned away, but stopped after two steps. "And Miss Fawley, don't let yourself be discouraged. Starting late doesn't mean being weak."

A pause.

"It just means you have to grow faster than others."

Rowena nodded slightly, grateful and overwhelmed at the same time and turned towards the door.

But halfway there, she stopped abruptly.

Mr. Riddle moved as well, neither hastily nor slowly. Simply with that effortless elegance that was so characteristic of him. She sensed him by her side before she truly noticed him, as if his presence were denser, more tangible than that of most people.

He held the door open.

Not with a gesture of politeness.

But with one that felt like: This is how it is.

Rowena murmured a barely audible "Thank you" and slipped out.

He followed her into the hallway, the door closing behind them with a dull thud.

For a moment, they were silent.

The sounds of the other students were still distant; here in the hallway, time seemed to stand still for a breath.

Then he said, without looking at her: "I will help you, Miss Fawley."

Rowena felt her stomach tighten and at the same time something warm rise in her chest that she couldn't name.

"Why?", she asked before she could hold herself back.

He stopped. Turned to her. His eyes held hers for a heartbeat too long.

"Because Professor Merrythought is right," he said quietly. "You have potential. More than you even know."

He turned away again.

"And I don't like to see potential wasted."

Then he continued on his way, without turning back and without noticing that Rowena was frozen behind him until he was no longer visible.