Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I brushed aside a strand of my hair. It had fallen out of my messy bun. My bun was too messy. I rolled my blue orbs at the messiness. My tiny arms full of suitcases and books, I came to a stone gargoyle. 

I recalled the words I had heard this morning:

“You’re too expensive to keep as a daughter- I’m selling you to Dumbledore”. My orbs WELLED with tears as my mind replayed my mother tossing me out into the street, a bottle of vodka in one hand and a bottle of bad gin in the other.

“Sherbert lemon,” I said, and the gargoyle sprang to life, hopping out of my way. I huffed my way up the spiral stone staircase to my Uncle Albus’s office and opened the door.

I was expecting to see only my dear uncle, but instead I was greeted by a mass of messy brown curls, hastily put up in a messy bun that almost matched my own. I heard a gruff, dark, mysterious voice mutter:

“Like hell you will- you can’t make me serve that punishment, you old codgel, you-”

Suddenly, the head turned, and electric mossy verdant lime cucumber zucchini unripe banana emerald green orbs LOCKED on mine.

“I thought this meeting was private, wasn’t it old man?”

“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting to see you until this afternoon,” Uncle Albus said, his blue orbs peering over his glinting half moon spectacles. His expression was imperceptible, yet his voice was calm.

“Yeah, I guess my train got in a little early, huh?” I laughed awkwardly, feeling out of place. I was so not supposed to be here. CRINGE. I was thinking of leaving, when I heard the mysterious, husky voice call out:

“Don’t bother- I think we’re done here, aren’t we you old buffoon?” Verdant avocado green orbs met mine as he huffed out of the room and started down the spiral staircase. I was paralyzed- I had never felt sparks like that before after locking orbs in all of my Y/N years. 

“I do apologize for my student’s behavior,” Uncle Albus sighed. “Harry Potter-Styles has been through a lot. He has a dark and mysterious past.”

It took a moment for me to respond. I still felt rooted to the spot, as if held in place by the memory of this “Harry’s” fresh pickled-toad shade orbs.

“Y/N?” my Uncle inquired, peering over his spectacles more (he was already peering over them but he peered a little more).

“Oh,” I shook myself out of a daze, my mind still thinking of Harry’s orbs. “That’s quite alright” I said, shaking my head aggressively to get those magnetic Spotify logo orbs out of my mind. “So, uh… I guess I live here now?” I asked.

“Yes, that appears to be the case. Your mother insisted on me giving her money to take you in… interesting woman, that one. I always thought that Aberforth’s side of the family had… interesting taste” Uncle Albus chuckled under his breath, before rising from his seat. “Of course, as beloved family, I couldn’t refuse. I was thinking that Fawkes, my phoenix, was lonely as it was. Her timing happened to be extremely convenient. How do you feel about birds?” He asked inquisitively, peering EVEN MORE over his spectacles, which at this point were at the very tip of his crooked nose. 

“Uh… I like birds?” I responded nervously, timidly twisting the piece of hair that had fallen out of my messy bun.

“Wonderful!” He clapped his hands as if that settled it. “Fawkes is relatively easy to take care of, just clean his cage, let him out every day to go for a ride, and milk his tears, and of course keep him company!”

Before I could respond, an owl swooped in from what seemed like out of nowhere, dropping a yellowed piece of parchment. Uncle Albus grabbed it, and, opening it, his already pale face became even whiter, and he stumbled out the words  “I’m so sorry, if you wouldn’t mind excusing me, it appears as though one of our fine faculty has taken ill after eating some mushrooms of the most questionable origin- I should be back shortly, but please send me an owl or talk to Filch if you have any concerns” and before I could respond, he had vanished with the twirl of his plum cape. Typical man, disappearing at the drop of a hat. Suddenly, I was alone in a foreign room with a funky looking red chicken, that I was now allegedly supposed to help take care of. And my mother had sold me. And I STILL had prickly pear snap pea mint green grape orb spheres on my mind. Fan-fucking-tastic. 

“Now how am I supposed to take care of you?” I demanded to the fire hydrant looking chicken. He cawed curiously, tilting his head sideways as if confused. The green covered books on the shelf behind him reminded me of Harry’s parsley green orbs. I huffed and shook his annoying orbs out of my intelligently smart brain. Then it hit me! Books! The only friends I had. I’m not like other girls. I must read to occupy all my time.

I must venture forth to my homeland… the library!

Although I felt bad about leaving Fawkes alone, I figured that I had to do some research to figure out what the fuck to do with that whole situation. So I headed down the stairs. As I reached the base, however, I realized that I had no clue where the library was, much less how to get there. I started to panic, but I saw a mop of blonde hair walking towards me, and beneath that a friendly face. Breathing a sigh of relief, I bravely stepped in front of them, and called out:

“You wouldn’t happen to know where the library is, would you? I’m kind of new here”

By a stroke of luck, I heard a response:

“Oim oirish. Also, the loibrary is down that corridor, second left from that funky soldier statue. Oim Noiall, boi thoi woi.”

“Hi… Neiall?” I responded, not attracted to the boy but seeking a friend. “Thank you so much for your help.”

I turned to go, but he spoke again in a confusing flurry of weird accent words.

“Wouldja like me ta come wid ya? Oim Noiall.”

He seemed like a good friend, so I accepted.
“Sure, Noalil.”

We walked down the corridor in the direction Nooall had said. What an interesting name he had.

Low and behold, the second left from what was admittedly a Very Funky soldier led us to the library. “Thank you, Noill,” I said, grateful for his help and yet oddly antsy to be rid of him. I wondered at my sudden desperation to have him gone when I suddenly felt the indistinguishable sensation of orbs locked onto my body. Turning slightly, I made orb contact with the very orbs that had been annoyingly stuck in my mind for what had seemed to be several hours (I’d only met the unknown boy seventeen minutes prior but the ferocity of my thoughts made it feel somewhat longer) – verdant fern moss pine tree orbs belonging to the one Harry something-or-other. Again, the electric sensation struck me, and I gave an involuntary shiver. 

He stalked past me, not looking at me anymore and into a section labeled ‘RESTRICTED SECTION.’ I don’t think he has permission to do that. I shouldn’t associate with him because I don’t associate with bad boys.

Noël, who was watching as Harry walked past us, grimaced.

“Oi think he’s in a bad mood. He always reads in the restricted section when he’s angry. Real mystery that one.”

I pondered this for a second, then put the thought aside in my jumbled, complicated mind for another time.

“Thanks for your help Nieall. I think I’ve got it from here” I said, clearly dismissing him, but seemingly oblivious he pattered on.

“Both of his parents were killed when he was younger. He is in a band for the school and plays seeker for the quidditch team but he spends all his time alone. No one really knows who he is.”

“There’s a school band?” I asked, not interested in it but curious why there would be one.

“Yah, Oim in it!” Nail said enthusiastically.

“Oh that’s cool” I said, absentmindedly, hoping to dismiss him. My orbs were still trained on the spot where Harry had been seated before suddenly rising.

“Yuh, oi ploi thoi thoi voioiloin!” Noioioioill said excitedly. I quickly realized that if I wanted to ditch him that I would have to leave the pleasantries behind. 

“Thank you so much for your help again, but I think I might need to be alone for a bit with my thoughts and all of these books. Maybe we’ll run into each other later?” I tacked the last question on as an afterthought, not wanting to hurt his feelings. Regardless, I saw the bright gleam in his oirish oirbs falter.

“Oihoho. That’s oilright. Oi hoipe Oill see ya later then,” he gave a rather uncertain smile and left.

I was finally to myself with the books. Thank god! I thought he’d never leave.

I searched for one second then quickly found exactly the right book I wanted. I really am one with the books. I read the book in five minutes really fast and learned everything I needed to know about red chickens (also known as phoenixes). I am a speedy reader and so talented. I swept my messy bun hair out of my blue orbs. It had fallen gracefully into my slender face.

I was so sucked into my books that I almost didn’t notice when, hours later, a figure passed behind me. It was Harry whats-his-face, emerging from the Restricted Section. Without intending to, my body turned, and our orb gazes met, my sapphire blueberry meeting his cilantro peridot green bell pepper. Again, the sensation was electric, and I gave an involuntary shudder. He quickly turned away, and almost ran from the library. What a baffling reaction! From the corner of my orb, I saw him holding a stack of books, that he tried to hastily stuff under his cloak as he turned the corner. Before he could leave, however, a mean, pointy face with dazzling brown chocolate topaz pretzel caramel orb prisms stopped him in his tracks by standing in his path.

“Hey there sexy, where are you going to in such a rush?” She asked, batting her impossibly long and sexy orblashes. Her arms were tattooed with spiky vines which twirled their way up into her short sleeves.

“Leave me alone Romilda,” He snapped at her, scowling darkly. She looked a little daunted but tried again.

“I know the next Honeydukes visit is coming up soon––” she started, but he huffed and began walking away, leaving her looking hurt.

I felt bad for her for a second, trying to talk to such a rude bad boy.

That feeling lasted for a second until she turned toward me and the sad, hurt expression was replaced by a sneer.

“What are you looking at?” she hissed, and flounced away, her wavy brown muddy glossy hair swinging all around her shoulders mesmerizingly. As her hair flew around I caught a whiff of vanilla, nutmeg, and cinnamon, like in a bakery.

“N-nothing” I said, my voice catching in my throat unintentionally. 

“Well, then why are you staring?” Romilda scoffed again, rolling her topaz honey gold orbs. She was intimidating, and I desperately wanted to backtrack.

“Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to-” I stuttered, my face flushing, unable to reign in my scattered thoughts.

“Ugh, whatever” Romilda rolled her gorge orbs, flipping her lush hair over her shoulder before strutting away. Suddenly I was alone in the library, arms full of phoenix-related books, breathing in the scent of warm baked goods and with a strange fluttering in my stomach. Yikes. Time to start kicking that can down the road.

Chapter Text

I began settling into my life in the castle. I took care of Fawkes quite well and stopped thinking of him as a red chicken. I took him daily on rides around the castle grounds, meaning I grabbed his tail and he flew. This was exercise for him, the books told me. I cleaned his cage every time he burst into flame and reincarnated in the ashes. Also I collected his tears whenever he cried, which wasn’t often. In fact it has never happened yet. The books say that Phoenixes only cry when they sense deep heartbreak.

Uncle Albus also started trusting me with more tasks, like helping the Sorting Hat compose a song, and cataloging his thoughts in this great stone basin memory object called the Pensieve.

It started as a normal day- I awoke in the secret broom closet adjacent to Uncle Albus’s room, and pushed the book off of my face. I pulled on a clean pair of leggings and a weirdly flattering baggy t-shirt, and put my hair into yet another messy bun. I pushed the door open, and stumbled into Albus’s office. Fawkes looked at me, clearly indignant that I had missed his breakfast. 

“Sorry bud, I’ll get right to it” I huffed under my breath, rolling my orbs as I reached for the bag of coals that lived under Fawkes’s delicate gold cage. I dumped the scoop into his tray as the door creaked open. I replaced the scoop as my body almost involuntarily turned, only to be greeted by those mesmerizing verdant evergreen oregano orbs. It was Harry whatchamacallit, once again called into the headmaster’s room.

“You again! Back again, I see?” I said, trying to be playful despite the quavering I could not disguise in my voice. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks as my orbs locked with his. 

He did not reply. Instead, he looked around, as if bored to be there. My uncle came out, clearly expecting Harry whatshisnameidk.

“Thank you, Y/N, you may go,” Albus said to me.

Feeling Harry’s orbs on me, I scurried out of the room, grateful to be away from the embarrassment of this interaction. On my way out, I stumbled over my shoelaces- my hi-top converse had become untied. Throwing my hands out to brace the fall, I was shocked to discover that I landed on something weird soft, and not-ground-like. Opening my orbs, I saw a mop of chestnut hair, and a pair of shocking blue raspberry shark gummy orbs whose color almost matched mine. 

“You ok, love? I’m Louis. Who are you?” a melodic voice emerged from the face of the poor human I had tackled down. Horrified, I rushed to my feet, almost yelled an apology, and kept running down the hall, towards the library. Why do I have to be so quirky and not like other girls?

I had hoped to never see Harry WhatTheFuckHisNameIs again, but he seemed to be more in trouble than in school. As the weeks passed by, I kept exchanging fleeting glances with him while he flitted in and out of my Uncle’s office for various crimes. We never talked. But I still felt an uncontrollable electrical tingle up my spine every time we connected orbs.

Almost suddenly, it was winter. Snow fluttered in the open windows of Albus’s office as I poured more coals into Fawkes’s tray. I made a mental note to remind Albus to set an impervius curse on the window. I shivered, and decided that I could spend no longer in his drafty office. Stepping down the stairs, I began wandering around the castle, hoping to find some warmth. Following nothing but the warm drafts I could catch, I found myself in the Great Hall, where the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts students filled the 4 main tables. Out of the corner of my orb, I spotted two heads full of glorious brown hair- both Romilda and Harry. 

Romilda appeared to be deep in conversation with a couple of her friends, while Harry was, as per usual, skulking about like a dark lone wolf. So mysterious. I wonder about his dead parents sometimes.

Ever since hearing that Harry was spending a lot of time in the Headmaster’s office, for some reason Romilda had redoubled her efforts to be quite unpleasant to me. I of course remained unphased by her petty attacks and snippy comments as I passed her in the hallway.

I made my way up to the staff table. It had never seemed an issue to Albus, that someone the same age as the students could sit with the staff but I always felt a little timid to take my place next to all these accomplished witches and wizards.

I walked past Romilda on my way to my seat and caught a familiar sweet cinnamon vanilla smell as I approached.

“That skirt’s a little short for someone at the staff table, don’t you think Y/N” she muttered as I sashayed by her. I blinked my innocent blue orbs back at her, confused. I shook my head at her comment and continued on my way. I strutted my way up to the seat beside Albus, trying to dislodge Romilda’s comment from my brain. In my mind’s orb, her tattooed arms filled my brain. Her inked biceps filled my brain, and it wasn’t until I sat at the wooden seat beside Albus that I finally snapped out of it. My orbs made contact with electric vine green broccoli spinach kale orbs, belonging to none other than Harry whackadoodle.

Harry Whackamole seemed to scoff at our orb contact, as we made orb contact so often these days without mentioning anything about it. We should really exchange a two sided conversation at some point. This is getting weird.

I sat in my seat at the staff table, to the left of my Uncle Albus. I had arrived a little late to the dinner meal because I was so absorbed in my book about charm theory that I lost track of time. At the end of the meal, Albus stood up, as if to make an announcement.

Everyone respectfully went quiet.

“I would like to make an announcement. As many of you know, christmas break is right around the corner. But this is a special year. Not every year is like this. This year is not like other years.” He paused for effect.

“This is the year of the Yule Ball. We will have a dance on the 31st of December. Everyone over fourth year is welcome, along with any partners they wish to bring.”

There was an outburst of excited muttering as students excitedly turned to one another at this news. Albus sat down.

I quickly turned to him “What?? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! You know I don’t do well in dresses. I’m not like other girls that like dresses and skirts like that.” Uncle Albus smiled, and responded:

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would be such and inconvenience to you– such a pretty girl with so many witches and wizards interested in you!” He chuckled, and returned to his dinner. I rolled my orbs and responded:

“Of course you wouldn’t think it’s a big deal, but I don’t even own a dress- how am I supposed to dress appropriately for this??” I responded, aghast. I was met with another chuckle:

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Y/N– pretty girls like you always go” Uncle Albus responded. “That Harry and Romilda sure are lookers- I’m sure one of them can help you out” he added cheerfully. 

“Ugh Uncle Albus! I don't want to dress up for some stupid ball, especially with one of them!” My voice carried a little more than it should. I noticed Harry and Romilda both staring their orbs in my direction.

Romilda’s expression carried derision but Harry’s was inscrutable. I stormed out of the hall, planning to go to my one refuge, the only place I feel understood: the library.

But unfortunately, my path was blocked by a MOP of BLONDE HAIR. Nail! That annoying metal object of a boy.

“Nail! I don’t have time.” I rolled my orbs at him.

“It’s actually Noiall.” he responded. “I wais woindering if yoiud go to tha boil with mie?”

I didn’t dignify this with a response and continued to my only refuge. My one place. My home. My home away from home. It’s not like other homes. The library.

“Woit! Y/N!” Noialalalalal called after me, but I could hardly hear him as I sprinted down the hall towards my sanctuary. I huffed and puffed as I made it into the space, and took a deep breath at long last, taking in the scent of parchment and moldy leather. I wandered the shelves, tracing the spines of endless bookends as I went. I felt at peace, whole. Unlike other girls, I felt happiest here. I pulled a few books from the shelves, and flipped through their pages absentmindedly. The knowledge slowly seeped into my brain, and yet my mind was elsewhere, focused on a pair of stunning Dartmouth Big Green orbs. I tried to read more, but could not. Finally, I caved, and began wandering my way back to Dumbledore’s quarters. If I could not read, perhaps I could at least read. 

However, just before the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore’s office, I came across the same strapping orbs that had haunted my brain for what had felt like an eternity- Harry whodunnit’s chloroplast green orbiez. 

I found myself wondering if he got into trouble yet again and I rolled my orbiez as I saw him. He saw my expression as I approached and I saw a micro tiny miniscule change in his blank expression.

He was in my way to get to the gargoyle, so I steeled myself to talk to him.

“U-uh are you going up to the office?” I asked timidly, so shy as I twisted my fingers around inside my pockets nervously.

His expression seemed to change again, in that microscopic way that it did in his unreadable yet dark and mysterious face.

“I… had to go to in. Yes.” he muttered, not meeting my gaze.

I gestured to him to follow me in, mumbling the password to the gargoyle. When we got into Albus’s office, he wasn’t there like usual. Then I remembered my uncle had a meeting with the other professors right then to discuss important matters as they did every week.

I turned to Harry to tell him this, and express that he may have gotten the wrong time, when I found him much closer to me than he had ever been. His dark spring onion green orbs locked with my azure cerulean orbs and his face was only inches from mine.

I could practically feel his breath on mine- a faint scent of tobacco, cloves, and something else equality mysterious and compelling. Our noses bumped, and our lips almost brushed. Shocked by the contact, I leapt back, although Harry remained right where he was, and almost seemed to… lean in????? Confusing. Stumbling over my own words, I managed to stutter out:

“Uncle Albus is in a meeting right now- you might want to wait until later.” My cheeks flushed, and I continued onward, hardly knowing what I was about to say- “I was going to wait in my room until he was done in his meeting, if you wanted to join me?”

He pulled away just as quickly as he had come. 

“I… I got the time wrong,” he managed, before darting out of the room. 

I was left standing there stock still, trying to process what had just happened. What was Harry doing? Surely he hadn’t meant to lean so close to me and bump noses together with me. It must have been an accident. I busied myself with my work, choosing to dive into the pensieve. Easier to live in Uncle Albus’s mind. Though his thoughts were interesting, his mind was uncomplicated and mundane compared to my own, which was fraught with emotion and complicatedness.

I fell into a recent memory, finding myself back in the same office I had just left. Judging by Fawkes looking still quite young, I judged this to be a week or two ago. My Uncle Albus was sitting at his desk, looking calm and impassive as usual. He seemed to be studying a small object in his hand that I didn’t recognize, though he slipped it into his pocket when he heard a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Albus said.

The door opened, and Harry slouched in, looking dark and mysterious. Albus gestured to the chair on the opposite side of his desk, and Harry took a seat.

“I don’t see why you haven’t kicked me out yet,” Harry muttered.

“You know perfectly well that I have no desire to do such a thing,” Albus responded calmly. “Although I have seen more of you in my office these days compared to the previous years. Why is that?”

Harry did not respond. Albus peered over his crookedly placed half moon spectacles, and seemed to x-ray Harry with a discerning stare. 

Then the strangest thing happened. For a flash, I was seeing from Harry’s POV, I thought I was in the library, and saw a flash of windex gatorade blue orbs.

It could have been a second or an eternity, but then I felt my gaze shift, and the scene seemed to fade.

I was back in the office again, watching Harry and Albus, and a small flicker of understanding seemed to flash through my Uncle’s orbs.

Albus lowered his spectacles to reveal a tinier pair of spectacles underneath, perched even lower down on his nose. He peered over those spectacles too.

Harry looked shocked.

“Did you… did you just see that?” he gasped.

Albus’s expression remained calm.

“I did. How fascinating” He mused, almost to himself. “I had thought that this might happen, but it’s much sooner than I would have… ah, well. No matter.” Uncle Albus shifted, then appeared to almost rise, before another figure stumbled into the room. 

Turning to get a better look, I once again saw the familiar messy bun, faded red converse, and leggings that I had worn almost every day because I don’t like shopping or clothing because I only think about books and not my appearance- it was me. The scene became uncomfortably familiar- it was a day when I had missed my alarm, and had forgotten to give Fawkes his breakfast. Hoping to sneak in before Albus had noticed, I instead stumbled into a private conversation. Not only that, is was one with the boy-no, man - who had consumed my thoughts no matter how many books I pored over and how many rain-splattered windows I gazed longingly out of, dreaming of freedom and also being quirky. The scene faded to black, and I was left with enough questions to fill my big, vast, quirky brain, like-

Why was Harry suddenly in the office so much?

What did Uncle Albus mean about something happening sooner than expected?

Why were there familiar windex blue orbs?

Before I knew it, I felt myself being pulled away gently, and my head rose from the Penseive. I turned to see who was beside me, hand on my shoulder, and was shocked to see coffee umber timber peanut butter colored brown orbs make contact with my own blue powerade listerine Smurf orbs. The smell of vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg filled my petite nostrils.

Chapter Text

“R-Romilda?” I stammered, feeling disoriented.

“I came to speak with Professor Dumbledore,” Romilda proclaimed, her orbs narrowing at me.

“He’s not here right now,” I responded timidly, tucking my hair around my ear a little more vigorously than necessary.

“What were you doing?” she asked, orbs still narrowed but slightly curious as she looked down at the Pensieve. Her orbs widened as she saw, floating through the silvery thoughts, my Uncle Albus sitting at his desk.

“It’s work for my Uncle. I’m cataloging his thoughts for him,” I said, shifting in front of the Pensieve so I covered it before she could see Harry.

Her harsh expression fell from her face and she looked deeply interested. 

“Huh, I bet there’s some pretty wild stuff in there…” her gaze became thoughtful, and I could hardly imagine what she was thinking of. To be frank, my first three thoughts were:

1. Weird sex stuff
2. Craaazzzzyyyyyy tea
3. Something more meaningful about storing and cataloging thoughts and privacy and identity and all of that

But before I could say anything in response, she turned away. “Well, it’s of no use to me to be here if he’s not- any clue when he’ll be back?” Her intense stare fixed on me, and I shuddered under the ga(y)ze of those mahogany chestnut orbs.

“N-no, I’ve no clue” I managed to mumble. Romilda huffed, rolled her orbs, and tossed her luscious locks (does she use Pantene?!) over her shoulder.

“Show me what that does while I’m waiting,” she demanded, pointing at the Pensieve. I didn’t respond to her immediately, and instead quickly grabbed the empty glass bottle I had used to pour the memory and scooped it back out, corking it. Silvery liquid floated inside the crystal clear bottle. 

I took my quill and quickly scribbled Meeting with student on a piece of parchment, storing the bottle away in a cabinet.

“Didn’t you hear me Y/N?” Romilda 

“I-I don’t think my Uncle would appreciate that. This is pretty private stuff” 

“Well, you’re a load of fun” Romilda rolled her orbs. “I bet you always just do what you’re told. Here you are, in the headmaster’s office, surrounded by his secrets, and I bet you don’t even poke around. Just like every other rule-following girl here.” Her words stung me. How could she say that?! That I , Y/N, was like Every Other Girl?! That couldn’t be. My gaze snapped up from my worn converse shoes, and my orbs met hers.

“I’m not like other girls. And I’ll prove it to you!” I turned on my heel, trying to find something in the room, something off-limits to prove how quirky and bad and unique I was. 

“Oh, yeah? Then why don’t you grab that ” she pointed to a silvery instrument that was either a guitar or perhaps a cooking utensil or also perhaps a really ugly large piece of jewelry that was behind my Uncle’s desk “and bring it down?” She smirked, like she knew that she had got me right where she wanted me. 

“Heh, that’s child’s play” I said, trying to sound way more chill and put together, and like touching the silver thing was not the most stressful thing I had encountered all day. Turning on my heel, I made my way around the desk, and, standing on tiptoes because I’m so small and cute and petite, I reached up to try to grab the object. My delicate small fingers barely brushed the bottom, so I took a deep breath, reminded myself that being stupid is part of growing up, and sprung up to dislodge the silver object. Both fortunately and unfortunately, the jump had the desired effect- the object was dislodged, and fell- Right. On. My. Head! I stumbled back under the weight of the object, and was preparing myself to get up and say something clever to Romilda, when a slight creaaakkk filled the room. 

A section of what I had previously thought to be a solid wall was creaking open. Behind it was a portrait of a short wizard with electric blue orbs who seemed about our age. He raised a sassy finger.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, little missy?” he asked, his voice surprisingly reedy. He couldn’t see me, and was speaking over my head to Romilda.

“Woah! Cool,” came Romilda’s voice behind me. She walked up and patted me on the shoulder, looking excited. “What are you doing behind the wall?” She asked the wizard.

He looked offended to be asked such a question.

“I certainly don’t tell young misbehaving students about what my purpose is,” he sniffed.

Romilda sneered, but for once it wasn’t at me.

“I bet you’re just there because Dumbledore only displays the important paintings in his office.” She smirked up at him, and he swelled like a bullfrog.

“Well I never! … Never been so offended in all my life! I’ll have you know, young missy, that I am perhaps the most important painting in this whole school, much less in Professor Dumbledore’s office. Behind me lies the most important and treasured information kept in the school, and you could never be worthy to be the recipient of such knowledge.”

Romilda didn’t seem daunted by this.

“How do I prove myself worthy? Bet it’s not hard,” she grinned over at me and I covered my face in my hands. We were going to get in so much trouble.

“You need to prove yourself a worthy successor to each one of Hogwarts’ founders. The task is impossible for a simple Gryffindor such as yourself,” he sneered. “I should turn you in, to Professor Dumbledore. He would expel you from the school for attempting to gain this information…”

Romilda’s confidence seemed to waver a little at hearing this. She took a step back.

I got to my feet finally, and then he looked over at me. His snide expression seemed to falter.

“And who do we have here? My, my, my- I wasn’t expecting to see you just yet, Y?N. Very interesting.” 

“H-how do you know my name?” I lifted my face from my hands and met his painted orbs. His Windex glacial lake orbs glinted, with mischief and a hint of kindness. Something about him was familiar, like a family friend you see once every 6 years in person but see pictures of once a month on Facebook but they’re a boomer so they’re like really low quality so you can’t really tell what they look like? And yet I couldn’t place his face in my memory. He chuckled.

“There are many things about you that you may be surprised to find that I know. But this is oddly soon. Perhaps best to revisit that subject later. All will happen in due time, after all. I usually make it nearly impossible for someone to prove themselves worthy of my knowledge. However, for you Y/N and… your rather unpleasant friend who I suppose I will spare this time, I will make it conceivable. You were always meant to have this knowledge anyways- you will just have to prove that you are worthy of receiving it now, and in this… present company” his gaze turned to Romilda, whose complexion was somewhere between pale and red between the thoughts of expulsion and the cocktail of other emotions she was currently experiencing.

“What? This all makes no sense. Is part of your secret information going to be telling me what all of this mystery and ‘too soon’ business I’ve been hearing about all day?” Somehow, I found both my voice and my confidence. Something about being talked down to by a random man in a painting behind a wall made something snap a little. I was sick of this mysterious business, and just wanted a few answers. 

“Oh, she’s got an attitude, too! I thought you might.” He smirked. “Yes, you’ll get your answers. You just need to prove that you can handle them. So- back to the tasks.”

“I’ll show you and attitude.” I muttered, rolling my orbs “Ok, fine. What are they?”

“I told you already,” he scoffed at me. “Maybe you’re not the one ,”

“No! I’m still the one,” I sassed at him so sassily. “Tell me again.”

“You must prove yourself a worthy successor to all 4 Hogwarts founders. Only then will you find out what lays beyond my portrait.” And with that, the wall swung shut again, and sealed itself off as if it had never even existed.

Both Romilda and I were full of questions.

“He clearly didn’t give us enough information!” Romilda said, exasperated. “What does that even mean, to be a worthy successor?”

 She stalked across the room and tried to open the wall again, but it remained stubbornly sealed shut.

“Open it again, Y/N,” she turned to me, and impatiently gestured for me to open the wall.

I walked over and tried to touch the wall, but even before I touched it, words magically appeared in the wall.

∫∫∫∫∫∫ Y/N and her snarky companion, this wall will remain sealed shut to you unless you manage to make progress on proving your worthiness. You are not (k)enough (yet). ∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫

“Well that’s total bullshit. My mommy told me that I’m (k)enough just how I am” Romilda frowned slightly. “That’s totally stupid- how the fuck do we ‘prove our worthiness’?” She punctuated the last three words with air quotes before rolling her orbs and saying “This whole thing is dumb. I bet the knowledge isn’t even that cool anyways.” Turning on her heel, she sashayed away. Suddenly, I was alone. I stood in the room, stunned and feeling some sort of mixture of awkwardness, embarrassment, anger and… something I couldn’t quite name but that made my stomach turn a little. I grabbed the stupid silver whozit and hastily propped it back where it was- I decided to just tell Uncle Albus that it had fallen, because I was way too small and petite to put it back up there myself. What. A. Day.

Chapter Text

To be honest, I was fully expecting for Romilda to act like the last day had never happened. But to my surprise, as I was rounding the corner to the library, which is the only place I ever go because books are my life, a tattooed arm grabbed me from the area of the windows, and pulled me behind the curtain.

“Literally what the fuck are you doing-” I started, hissing aggressively as a cinnamon, vanilla, and nutmeg smell wafted into my tiny nose “oh wait what Romilda?” my tone shifted, softening slightly while also taking on the new tone of why are you like this . 

We were crammed together inside a curtain, and in the close proximity, I could see little flecks of gold in her soft chocolate cowlike orbs. Moooo.

“Keep your voice down, dimwit,” she whispered. “Do you want to be heard?”

I shut my mouth and shook my head.

“I’ve had an idea on how to get into the vault.” she hissed, but then a nearby muttering pulled us both up short.

“Whoit is this soispicious lump oin the cuortoins?” came a voice I recognized by the accent. It was Noilliaaoi. 

“Shit,” Romilda mumbled. She knelt down and pulled out her wand from her boot. A hand reached inside the curtains to pull it open, but Romilda thrust her wand out the curtain. “ Incarcerous !” A bunch of ropes shot out of the end of the wand and Noialail’s hand retracted suddenly, as if jerked back. Then before I could comment on this, she hissed “ Obscuro! ”

I peered out of the curtain, and saw Nialaall’s tied up, blindfolded form. He struggled a bit but we grabbed him and shoved him in a cupboard and left him there. So annoying.

We went back to our curtain, no longer bothered by annoying boys.

“As I was saying,” Romilda continued, as though none of this had all happened. “To prove ourselves worthy we need to exemplify traits of each of the founders. I’ve got Gryffindor covered. Bravery! The other three will be more tricky, since we need to be smart like Ravenclaw and kind like Hufflepuff and a right dickhead like Slytherin.”

I pondered this for a moment.

“But how do we prove that we’re brave, or a dickhead?”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking. We need to go and demonstrate bravery by doing something brave. And once we’ve made progress, Mr Sassy Wizard will tell us we’re on the right track.”

“Ok, ok yeah, that makes sense. How are we gonna demonstrate bravery, though? We’re literally at a wizarding school where people like casually face their worst fears in Defense Against the Dark Arts” I pointed out. “Also, I don’t know if I want to prove that I’m a dickhead? Kinda seems like something you’d want to avoid”

“Trial and error, I guess. There’s also a good number of objects and places tied to each founder- seems like a solid place to start, right?” Romilda shrugged, as though suggesting that trying to go after a number of extremely powerful and rare and valuable objects was like a sane thing that a bunch of high schoolers could do. Yeah. For sure. Great, I was about to sign myself up to work with someone who had literally no marbles. None. 

“That’s true- I actually know exactly where the book on those is in the library because I virtually live there- I can probably recall most of them from memory because I just read so much. But where do we start? It’s a pretty long list.” I sighed exasperatedly.

“I mean we either start with what’s nearby, or with the Chamber of Secrets because it’s like duh Slytherin. So. And it’s a weekend so we should really step on it because I will not have this kind of time tomorrow.” Romilda shrugged again, and then raised her orbbrows at me, clearly expecting me to jump up with excitement and say something to the effect of ‘wahoo I can’t wait to get arrested and/or murdered with you because a random old guy in a painting told us to’. Which I did not do. 

“Ok, sure, fine. So how do we pick which one to Start Start with?” I said, my shoulders sagging a little as I caved.

“I think we should start with Gryffindor. That will be easiest since that’s my house.” Romilda said decisively. “Any brave act should do it. But there’s a legend of a sword that comes out of the Sorting Hat when you are displaying true bravery. We need to steal the sorting hat, jump out of a tower or something, then put the hat on and see if the sword falls out.”

I was relatively unconvinced by this idea, but Romilda was being somewhat nice to me so I decided not to push it.

Over the next few weeks, in between taking care of Fawkes and doing my daily tasks for Uncle Albus, Romilda and I kept meeting in secret to plot our heist of the Sorting Hat. We had to make a fake hat so that Uncle Albus wouldn’t spot that it was gone.

I poured over books in the library while Romilda acted as a lookout, flexing her large tattooed biceps at scared looking passersby and ensuring no one came into the library to bother me.

It took me two days to find the spell we needed. Gemenio would duplicate something, but Romilda needed to perform the spell. It took her another couple days to master the spell. I practiced with her, and we used deserted classrooms and broom closets, both crouched with our heads together as I handed her small objects to duplicate. Gradually we worked our way up from buttons to socks and finally to hats. We found that when the charm wore off the object would disappear, and her copied objects only lasted a couple hours.

Over time, she worked her way up to making full hats last a day. We figured that this would be enough, and she could come in and replace the hat every night before it disappeared.

On the final day before we planned to switch out the hat, she handed me a bracelet with leaf patterns embossed on it.

“I copied this bracelet,” she said, not quite meeting my orbs, “Since it’s smaller it might last longer than the hats.”

I didn’t know what to make of this gesture but wordlessly put on the bracelet, which seemed to make her happy. The same confusing feeling in my stomach returned, but it was stronger now. How odd. Definitely a later problem , I thought to myself.

“So, big day for us tomorrow, huh?” I said jokingly, trying to lighten the oddly serious mood. “Do we feel like we have the plan down?”

“Oh yeah- you wake up after actually fucking setting your alarm for once, and then switch out the hat after feeding Fawkes. You know Dumbledore’s schedule, so you know that he won’t be in his office. He knows you’ll be walking around his office then, too, so if anyone were to see you say, on the Maurauder’s Map, then no flags would be raised. Theoretically.”

“Theoretically.” I agreed. “I typically am out of the office all day at the library, because all I do is read, so I need to do the swap in the morning. I’ll put the hat in my bookbag, and then go to the library. Because I almost live there, I know all the nooks and crannies. We can convene at a secret spot in the library that only I can find because I’m special.” I hadn’t yet told Romilda about this secret hiding spot in the library because I hadn’t fully trusted her, but now I found myself trusting and relying on the brown orbed girl more and more. “Then you try on the hat, and/or put your hand in, and we see how brave you really are.” I ended my sentence with a playful smirk, so she could see that I was messing with her. And maybe I’ll try on the hat myself and see if I can get any of those questions answered… I thought to myself. 

She snorted at me and I pushed her arm, feeling her muscled tricep under her sleeve and blushing a little when I did. She cast her orbs down at me, as if she might knew the bisexual panic I was suddenly feeling at her toned and firm muscles. She smirked back at me.

Huh. Bisexual panic. That’s a new one. Or is it? Man, I do not have time for a sexuality crisis on top of this shit. Please let’s just have this be a later problem?

“Good stuff. We’ll show that random guy in the painting who’s brave and worthy of knowledge, that’s for sure. Well, I gotta go. Some of us do in fact have lives and are like other girls in that they like to like eat food and shower and socialize. I’ll see you tomorrow though, yeah?” Striding across the room, she turned back at the last second, meeting my orbs. 

“Tomorrow.” I agreed “In the library, sometime late morning. You said you have Charms first tomorrow, so probably just straight after that? I’ll be somewhere visible, reading as always, and we can go to my spot from there.”

“Let’s McFuckin’ do this” she said with a smile, before turning around and exiting the room. I wish I could McFuckin’ do you . I thought to myself. Whoa, where did that come from? These thoughts are getting harder and harder to ignore… but probably just another one of those quirky intrusive thoughts I have.

Chapter Text

The next day, my alarm blared annoyingly and I was so annoyed but when I was about to roll over to turn it off and sleep through it as usual, I remembered that Romilda wanted me to be awake. All of the McFuckin thoughts flooded back into my brain and I found myself wide awake.

I reached into my bag to produce the hat that Romilda had copied the previous night. All throughout the process of that, I kept glancing at her arms, and when she had handed me the copied hat, her fingers had brushed over my wrist, making the skin tingle, and any other thoughts to immediately exit my mind. (No thoughts head empty.). It’s such a crazy coincidence that I only ever forget everything I’m thinking about whenever I see her. Huh. Anyways.

I entered the office, hoping to find it empty, but my Uncle Albus was sitting at his desk, looking graver than usual.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“We just found Niall Horan of Hufflepuff tied up in a cupboard,” Albus sighed, jotting an address outside an envelope before attaching it to a barn owl. “I’m writing to his parents to let them know he is in critical condition in the hospital wing but Madam Pomfrey is confident that he will make a full recovery in time.”

I blanched, but Albus seemed preoccupied with his thoughts.

“I must go check on Niall in the hospital wing, and offer my assistance in his recovery,” Albus said, “Mr horan was in there for quite some time and only got recovered when Mr Dean Thomas heard a struggling noise and went to investigate.”

With that, Albus strode quickly from the room, and I was left to contemplate the lengths to which Romilda’s tattoos distracted me from my new immoral crimes.

Releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding, I began my morning chores for Fawkes. Once he had been fed and watered, I turned my attention to step one of the plan: replace the hat. The Sorting Hat was currently kept in a cupboard behind Uncle Albus’s desk, coincidentally right beside that ugly silver thing that had started it all. Checking over my shoulder to make sure that no one was coming, I strode across the room, opened the cupboard, and made the switch. For something that had taken like idk probably a few months to prepare for (time is fake anyways), it was a short and simple task. And just like that, the hat was in the bag. Of course, he didn’t go without making a ruckus. But fortunately even my small petite arms were strong enough to hold him down and get him in the bag- singing is not a very useful physical weapon. Step one: complete! Next, to the library. The love of my life. <3 

I entered the familiar space, and inhaled the scent of books. I don’t wear perfume because I’m not like other girls, but if I were to, I would want it to smell like this. Is that weird and quirky of me? I don’t care. I thought about all of the books I could read (or re-read to be more precise- I had already read every book in there several times over by now), but none of them seemed appealing to me. If I was honest, my mind was stuck on the hat in my bag. I snuck away to my secret spot that is super secret and only I know about because I’m special, and pulled out the hat. Something in me believed that this hat had answers, and I wanted to know them. 

“Psst, hat! So, uh- how does this work? Do I put you on my head, or…” I asked to the depths of my bag.

“Oh, I see how it is. You shut me up when you don’t want me to sing, but expect me to talk when it’s convenient for you? Classic. I thought after composing those songs together that you’d have a little more respect for me, but I guess not.” A grumpy voice emerged from the bag. 

“I had to take you- we’re trying to prove our worth to get the secret knowledge, and we need you to accomplish it. I promise we’ll keep you safe and put you right back where you belong as soon as we can” I responded.

“Hmmm the knowledge, you say? Very interesting. Well, your ambition in this quest is certainly something old Salazar would have respected, I’ll give you that. And you know, Y/N, you’re making much better progress than some have expected. Many doubted that you’d succeed, given that we were all expecting this to happen much later. Very interesting indeed. Well, I take it you’ve got some questions to ask me yourself, seeing as you’re not currently trying to pull a sword out of me?” The voice, now less grumpy, had a cunning twist to it. 

“I would ask how you know all that crap about me, but it’s come up so many times that I guess it’s to be expected. I take it that you can’t tell me about why everyone knows my name or why everyone thinks I’m supposed to do something but later?” 

“That would be correct. That’s not my role to play here.”

“Superb. So helpful. Great. Slay.” I said, rolling my orbs. “So, what can you tell me?”

“Well, I can look into your mind and tell you your house- perhaps not the most useful for someone who is not a student, but in your endeavors to prove your worthiness, could be of use.”

“I’ve gotta say- I’ve been struggling with some other labels in my life, so yeah why not add another?” 

“If you’re going to ask me to tell you your sexuality as well, I think perhaps that’s a discussion better had with someone else. I do have a friend who could maybe help…. How do you feel about scarves?” The voice chuckled from the bag. My face reddened, and I stuttered out:

“Of course, you would know about that too, wouldn’t you? No, just the house is fine, thanks.” 

I settled the hat on my head and heard a little voice in my ear.

“Well well well! I’ve never seen a mind like yours. You are truly not like other girls.” I rolled my orbs at this.

“Wow I had no idea,” I said sarcastically. “Now will you tell me which house I’m in?”

“So impatient. Patience is a virtue you know,” the little voice said. “This is curious… very curious.”

“What’s curious?” I asked.

“You are brave, you are clever, very intelligent, yet hard working, loyal, and kind, and you have a thirst to prove yourself, and a cunning streak.” the hat said.

“What does that mean? Tell me my house,” I demanded.

“I cannot,” the little voice said simply. “You are what they call Divergent. You possess traits for all four, not one more than the others, and not one less than the other. You are not like other girls.”

My jaw dropped open. So this was the reason! This was why I wasn’t like other girls. I always knew I wasn’t but I could never tell exactly why.

“You are the Chosen One . The Selected . The Not Like Other Girls Girl . The Special––” the hat may have continued listing all my titles but I yanked him off and stuffed him deep in my bag.

“Shut up!” I yelled.

“You may run from your destiny, but fate will find you…” The hat’s muffled voice eventually was stifled in the depth of my bag in between so many books.

Once again, I had tried to answer my questions, but ended up with more than before. Classic. My only source of relief was that my hunger to read was back, and now it had a direction. Time to read up on that whole ‘Divergent’ business. Dipping back out to the main library, I scanned the shelves that I had visited endless times before. It took me less than 2 seconds to realize that I would need to go to the Restricted Section to find books on being ‘Divergent’, because I know every single book and its location in the library. I was pondering whether or not it was worth it to try to find Pince or to just go for it, when a pair of stunning emerald leaf dill orbs met my ocean orbs. It was Harry Whodafuq, who I hadn’t seen in ages because he was being all dark and mysterious. He was clearly as much of a rebellious bad boy as always. 

“Harry!” I called out in the loudest whisper I could afford. He walked coolly over to where I stood. “Are you going into the Restricted Section?” 

“Obviously. It’s the only place in this whole library for a dark mysterious bad boy like myself.”

“Right, right- of course. Do you think you could grab me a book while you’re in there? I’d go myself, but I’m too petite and small to reach the shelf- I can barely hold most books because I’m so small!” 

“You are quite small. Alright, just this once.” He looked into the distance mysteriously, and then we locked orbs again. “What book do you need?”

“I need a book on being ‘Divergent’. It’s the 14th book to the left on the 3rd shelf of the leftmost bookcase.” Harry’s orbs widened.

“...Divergent. Huh. You’re really not like other girls, are you Y/N?” His orbs showed hints of interest, and almost… desire as he swept over my body, taking in my messy bun, beat-up converse, and jeans that had been drawn on with sharpie and were covered in unique and artsy quotes. Oh, and my Hot Topic t-shirt of course. 

“Yeah, I guess you could say that” I chuckled under my breath. 

“Be right back” he said shortly, almost as if in a rush to leave, and he entered the Restricted Section. A few minutes later, he was back, and with a massive stack of books in hand. He handed me the topmost one. 

“Thanks Har––” I started, but he was already gone. What a bad boy. So bad. The worst boy in fact.

I settled down in my very public armchair. I normally don’t like being paid attention to, but this arm chair was the only one I was tall enough to climb up into. I am much too petite to reach the other taller arm chairs. 

Soon, Romilda came into the room, and when she spotted the book I was reading she looked at the cover.

“Divergence: Straying From the Path, or Forging Your Own? Dang, sounds intense. What weird quirky thing have you found yourself in now, Y/N?” She arched an orbbrow at me, expectant.

“Oh, you know. I’m not like other girls- the Sorting Hat told me that I’m Divergent. I can’t be placed into a house. I was hoping to see if maybe I had any particular traits that could help us with our quest, because you’ve got Gryffindor down so I was thinking maybe I would lean towards the traits of some house. But I don’t- I have traits from all four equally. Sure is a good thing I’m not actually a student here, huh? They’d have to come up with a whole new dorm for me.” Romilda rolled her orbs at the last comment.

“You really are special, aren’t you?”

“The hat told me that I was the Chosen One. I figured it would be worth reading about Divergence, but there’s not much out there. Only this 500 page book that I read in 20 minutes. So few people are ever Divergent because it’s such a rare special thing that’s not like the other wizards, so there’s not a lot of information.”

“Anyone we’d know that’s also Divergent?” Romilda inquired.

“I don’t know of anyone,” I admitted. I led her to my secret spot. As far as I knew, no other students knew of this place. It was a beautiful sunlit alcove, hidden by two large bookshelves. It was a cozy nook where I went to sit if someone was sitting in the only armchair I could access.

Romilda grabbed my bag off of me and reached into it. She had to pull out several large books that I had been reading (all at the same time) before she found the Sorting hat. The hat was quite rumpled and rather grumpy about having been shoved in a bag.

For a moment, she held the hat out in front of her, reverently; the payoff of weeks of hard effort.

“Nice work, Y/N!” she punched me in the shoulder, definitely leaving a bruise. Ouch. My skin bruises so easily because I am so petite and small. Such a physical weakling I appear to be, although I actually am much more athletic and strong than other girls because I am not like other girls.

She put the hat on her head and waited. Nothing happened.

“Worth a try,” she shrugged, not seeming to be upset by the lack of result.

“Worth a try?” I replied, astounded. “What other things are there to ‘try’? Need I remind you, we didn’t have a back-up protocol for this portion of the plan. The sword was supposed to fall out!” I felt my cheeks flush with emotion. 

 “Calm down there,” she snorted. “Weren’t you listening to my plan? We need to go do something daring and brave, and then we’ll get the sword.” She stowed the hat back away in my bag, which she shouldered.

“What do you have in mind?”

Chapter Text

That night, Romilda woke me up in my broom closet. A book fell off my nose as usual, since I had fallen asleep reading.

“Wha… what are you… doing here?” I rubbed my orbs groggily. “Is it the middle of the night?”

“Let’s get going,” she said, as if I should know why she was there. “I’ll explain when we get there.”

I wasn’t getting ready quick enough for her satisfaction, so she began throwing my own things at me, leggings, hot topic t-shirts, and hair ties for my messy buns.

I had barely tied my signature messy bun when she impatiently grabbed my wrist and was dragging me out of the office door.

Together, we hurried through the deserted corridors. Finally we arrived at the entrance hall. 

She tapped the lock on the double doors. “ Alohomora .” The lock clicked open, and then we were outside.

The path was lit by the silver light of a shining full moon overhead. We walked down the path in silence, and then I realized that this path led to only one place: the Forbidden Forest.

“Whaaaat?” I looked beseechingly at Romilda. “We are not going into the Forbidden Forest. No!”

“Lily-liver,” she scoffed, pulling me with her.

I had no idea what that meant, yet still felt sufficiently demeaned enough to permit Romilda steer us toward the edge of the dark forest.

“ Lumos, ” whispered Romilda, lighting her wand, and she directed the glow toward an opening in the trees.

We reached the forest, and I immediately tripped over the laces of my beat-up converse, which had become untied. I was too cool and quirky to tie them properly (most girls always have their shoes laced up properly, so I could never), so this actually happened on a pretty frequent basis, but usually not in the Most Inconvenient Time And Place. Just my luck that that was the case today. Before I could hit the ground and inevitably warn dozens of dangerous creatures to our presence, Romilda whirled around and caught me. Suddenly I was enveloped in her strong tattooed grasp, and her warm bakery scent. Naturally, I ceased to be able to form an intelligent sentence (again-what a crazy coincidence that she’s the only one that affects me like this!), which is why when Romilda released me and hissed: 

“Way to go klutz, because we definitely want to make a lot of noise and blunder in here. Just because you don’t go here it doesn’t mean that you won’t get in trouble, and that the creatures in the forest won’t want to hurt you either.” I responded with a super intelligent:

“Uhhh-huh.” I then proceeded to stare at my feet. She rolled her orbs and turned around again, starting towards the forest. I caved and tucked my untied laces into my shoes, so that they were neither conventionally tied nor actively in the way, and then followed her into the dark of the forest. My first thought was For a forest that is Forbidden, it is awfully easy to just walk in here. That’s kinda weird. Oh, well. This thought was immediately followed by Oh shitfuckshit why are we here and who let me do this? , prompted by the fact that, as I looked at the path ahead of us, I saw a large procession of spiders that I did not enjoy, and heard approximately 69 large cracking noises in all different directions. I suddenly realized that maybe the forbidden-ness of the forest did not need to be enforced by authority, and instead was probably enforced by self-selection between students who valued their lives and blithering idiots like myself and present company. Hooray. 

Romilda and I walked for what felt like hours but was realistically 15 minutes through the forest. As we walked, the crackling noises of large animals faded, and the spiders too faded from sight. I almost began to feel more comfortable, walking in the moonlight between the trees, when I suddenly registered that we seemed to be walking aimlessly, and past all of the scary signs of creatures instead of towards them. Finding my voice, I asked in a whisper that sounded much bolder than I was feeling “So what exactly are we trying to find here? Because I haven’t heard or seen a sign of a magical beast in a while, which I thought was the reason we were here?”  

“I was doing some thinking,” Romilda started, her back still to me. Before I could stop myself, I retorted.

“Ah, no doubt a rare occurrence.”

“Oh, shut it. If it weren’t for me we wouldn’t be doing anything at all to try to get to this secret knowledge, need I remind you.” I could think of a few more snarky responses, but I decided to drop it. Arguing in the middle of the Forbidden Forest did not seem like one of my better ideas. 

“Alright, so you were thinking?”

“Yeah, I was thinking about acts of bravery, and what it means to be brave. We really went hard into trying to get the sword, an emblem of Gryffindor, without actually doing any acts of bravery to get there. Sure, learning that spell wasn’t easy, but it also wasn’t a test of courage. And grabbing the hat I imagine was nerve-wracking, but it probably doesn’t compare to the lion-hearted acts that Gryffindor is known for.”

“Okay, that’s a fair point. So what are we doing here? Breaking a school rule hardly seems like a feat of courage for either of this at this point, and we walked away from all the scary beasts that we’ve encountered.”

“Right. I was thinking that facing one of our fears would approach more of a test of courage. I don’t know about your fears, except for maybe being too much like other girls or not being able to read every day of your life or something like that, but I do know my own fears.”

“So we’re here for you to confront something that you’re deeply afraid of, to prove your courage?” As miffed as I was that my own fears had not been asked for or considered, because I was pretty sure that facing being basic AF or wearing the color pink or listening to mainstream music or pumpkin spice lattes would not have involved us sneaking into the forest at night, I had to admit that it was a solid plan. At least, solid given that we had no other clue what else to do. 

“Right. At least, that’s the plan.”

“Okay, so what are we looking for? And what are you going to do to confront whatever we find? Do we even have weapons?” I was really hoping that Romilda had thought this through more than I had, given that I pretty much had only my clothing, as well as the small book that I always had tucked somewhere on my body because books are my life and I never go anywhere without at least one. 

“I was talking with Hagrid earlier this week, and he told me that he found an occamy in the forest,” Romilda began, picking her way over a large root. “She’s a nesting mother that got attacked by some griffons who stole her eggs and she’s too injured to get them back but she’s been causing a major ruckus in the hidden watering hole so the other animals are suffering too.”

This seemed like a compelling and fun adventure. I knew from my endless reading that occamies were majestic water creatures with purple wings. Their eggs were of a very soft silver. They also had another super compelling and cool feature about them which I couldn’t remember - not because I’m dumb or forgetful but because I was at that moment admiring a particularly pretty vine tattoo that was curled around Romilda’s left tricep. This also caused me to stumble over a root and I yelped.

Romilda caught me with one arm, clapping her other hand over my mouth, her orbs darting around.

“Do you want to wake up the whole forest, numbskull?” she hissed. 

I shoved her hands off me and muttered an apology under my breath.

We treaded on in silence, and I was particularly careful to watch my step and force my orbs to stop studying Romilda’s tattooed arms. After fifteen minutes or so, I started to hear rushing water. Within another few minutes, we reached the watering hole. I gasped as it came into view. Even Romilda stopped in her tracks for a second to gaze around.

It was an oasis.

Crystalline blue water cascaded down in a glowing waterfall, moonlight glittering off the mist that rose up from the surface of the water.

The soft green boughs of a weeping willow lazily drooped over the surface of the water. The water’s edge was spotted with violet flowers. Under the surface of the water the bottom of the water hole was covered with multicolored rocks. The moonlight danced over them- red, gold, emerald, and… silver?

“Soooo… getting back to the part where I asked you if you had a plan for what the hell we were going to do once we got to the stolen occamy eggs by a possibly aggressive griffin? Because between you and I, those silver rocks look a hell of a lot like eggs, and I am way too petite and delicate to fight a whole-ass beast.” I whispered to Romilda, entranced by the luminescence of the eggs in the crystal clear water. 

“To be honest, I was kind of hoping that the spirit of Gryffindor would somehow strike me with some mad inspiration once we got here.” She replied quietly. Her orbs were soft and alight with wonder as she gazed at the underwater nest. 

“You have got to be fucking me. You’re telling me that we came out all this way with a plan contingent on you being struck with inspiration from some random old dead guy? Wow. That’s really great.” I bit out, my voice hard with annoyance.

“Oh, chill out. It’s not like you had any better ideas yourself. And it’s not like I didn’t come prepared, either.” Romilda unclipped the coin purse she had carabiner-ed to her belt loop and opened the drawstrings. Pulling her hair back into a messy bun of her own, she proceeded to pull out:

• a crossbow with arrows
• A bastard sword
• Nunchucks
• A landmine
• A bayonet
• Greek fire (?)
• A 7 inch alan wrench
• Throwing stars
• A horsetail whisk
• A trebuchet 

Wow. That is a lot of things. And the 7 inch alan wrench was a good 5 inches shorter than anything I would deign to touch. 

Faintly in the distance, I heard branches cracking, and deep raucous voices. I started to turn in confusion to Romilda, but found myself yanked under the weeping willow and behind the trunk. Her sepia russet terra cotta brown orbs narrowed as she put a finger to my lips to shush me.

The voices drew closer and I began to be able to distinguish words.

“-and her eggs are worth 420 galleons each!”

“We’d be set for life!”

“Hold! It’s up ahead,” A deeper, cold and slimy voice cut through the chatter. Everyone else went silent.

A group of ten or so large and ugly men wearing ski masks emerged from the brush, wielding nets, barbed spears, and with unidentifiable metal gadgets on their belts.

“Ew, they are so ugly,” I said to Romilda and she clapped a hand over my mouth.

“Keep quiet, idiot”

Repressing the sudden urge to lick the hand she had placed over my mouth, I pushed it away and rolled my orbs at her. I opened my mouth, unsure if I was about to sass her back or make a real suggestion, when I was cut off by an ear-splitting SCREECH . I locked my glacial lake blue raspberry jolly rancher orbs onto Romilda’s diet coca-cola pinecone dolce de leche ones, and an unspoken word of understanding passed between us. In sync, we scaled the trunk of the willow and positioned ourselves high among the branches, so that we could get a clear view of the sky while remaining hidden from the gross, ugly men.

The trunk was not designed to hold two people, and in fact arguably was not even designed to hold one. To stay balanced, I not only had to be pressed flush against Romilda, I had to be anchored by her hand around my waist. My arms and legs and hands and feet are so delicate and petite that it was difficult to reach out and hold onto branches, which meant that I was effectively dead weight that Romilda had to prop up with her strong, tattooed arms. My mind started to go blank as my nose filled with her warm, buttery scent and all of my focus centered on her hand on my waist, and also my side pressed against hers. I was about two seconds out from opening my mouth and voicing some incoherent thought when I was saved from my own gay idiocy (or is it? Again- I choose to kick this can down the road. Maybe this is a totally heterosexual way to respond to this situation) by yet another SCREECH ! 

Several large winged animals suddenly dropped from the sky, screeching at the ugly gross men. They were met with slimy gross shouts of surprise as they set upon the men, beating their wings and extending them in and out to their full, expansive wingspans. Two of the men got bowled over as the creatures used them as landing pads.

“Get away, foul beasts!” one particularly ugly slow dumb man exclaimed as one of them threateningly raised its huge talons at him.

“What are they?” I whispered to Romilda.

“Griffons,” she hissed back, “they are territorial and like shiny things.”

I related strongly to these griffons.

I watched, enraptured as the griffons, five in all, seemed to form a protective perimeter around the oasis water, beating their wings and rearing their claws at the ugly men.

The men were regrouping, minus the two out cold on the ground, and now trying to get past the line of griffons. Although I had assumed our original ploy was going to be to fight the griffons to get the occamy eggs back and return them to their mother, I couldn’t ignore the sudden urge to give these slimy gross men a good ass-whooping (not that I would be much help bc I am so small and petite and delicate and those griffons were pretty swole). The remaining men surged forward, pulling an assembly of odd gadgets out from their belts. Romilda and I gasped in unison as we registered what they were- a super crazy silver magnet that somehow attracted metal (insert some physics and chemistry explanation here), as well as EXTREMELY high-accuracy rifles with bullets specifically designed to maximize damage to the most sensitive region of the griffon………… the orbs (get ur heads out of the gutters!). The bullets shattered on impact, resulting in fragments that embedded themselves deep in the orbs, exacerbating the damage of the original shot. I hoped against all odds that these gross men wouldn’t be able to wield their hyper specific super dangerous weaponry, but knew that there was no use when the first one loaded the first shot and landed the target on the first try- the largest griffon that was in the center of the line.

The poor creature reeled back in shock as it fell to the ground, and its companions moved protectively to surround it as it writhed in pain and then stopped moving. It suddenly occurred to me that these atrocious monsters (no offense to monsters out there, u for sure are better than these men) were in it for the kill- they wanted those griffons dead, and would probably want us dead too if they realized we had been there the whole time. Head reeling from this realization, I looked at Romilda’s crossbow and arrows, propped in a very convenient place just in front of my orbs, and knew what I had to do.

I knew that if I could somehow line up and land a shot at the right angle, I could knock all of the rifles out of the men’s hands, protecting both the eggs and the griffons and not outright killing anyone. I had never touched a bow before, so I knew that this was a crazy plan. But I also knew that I was the only one who could do it. Even though Romilda for sure had more experience with weapons than me, her line of vision wasn’t quite as good as mine. And, given that her arm was still wrapped around my waist (a fact my brain still held tight to even while experiencing the largest crisis I had encountered in my entire life), wielding a bow was a bit out of the question anyways. Taking a deep breath, I reached for the quiver and bow. Finding a supremely convenient notch in the willow, I propped the bow up, knocked an arrow, and started pulling the string back. I felt Romilda’s hand on my waist tighten in shock as she registered what I was about to do, and heard her draw in a quick breath of surprise.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? I know you’re Not Like Other Girls and are special and quirky, but that doesn’t mean that you can perfectly wield extremely dangerous weaponry on the first try” She whispered angrily. Her warm, bakery breath flooded my senses, and my mind went blank. Which was really not ideal because of the whole dangerous weaponry situation in my hands. “Seriously, Y/N, have you thought about what will happen if this doesn’t wo-” Her (honestly reasonable) lecture was suddenly cut short by the whiz of the arrow as I released the string and watched it soar.

Chapter Text

It felt like the forest went silent, tense with anticipation, the second the arrow flew. As my hand released the string, my brain screamed several helpful things, like Why did we think this was a good idea? We’re so gonna die!!! And I can’t believe I’m about to die in such a normal and conventional way that other girls die!!!! Murder and/or mauling is so not original!!!! And God she smells SO good like a loaf of bread and she’s still holding onto me. I hope she doesn’t hate me- or if she does I hope that like maybe that hate turns into a super heated argument where maybe she’ll shut me up by cutting off my words with her lips. Wait what ok we are just gonna disregard that! People kiss their weird frenemy acquaintances all the time I’m pretty sure. Ok wait I gotta lock in jesus FUCK . Fortunately my spiraling thoughts were cut off by what was less of a gentle thunk and more of a series of extremely loud bands and shouts as 8 hyperspecific rifles were pierced and fell useless to the ground. The forest seemed to release the breath it was holding. It seems my quirkiness and specialness had saved the day- I had nailed the objectively kind of impossible shot because I am so talented and good at weapons and fighting even though I am really physically weak. 

The tables suddenly turned, the ugly men backed up, dropping their broken weapons. A couple fled into the forest and out of orbsight. However, three of the men seemed focused on the one blinded griffon. They wrapped him in their nets and were dragging him away as they tried to retreat. More ugly men came to their defense and pointed their pokey barbed spears at the other griffons who were screeching and as they attempted to stop one of their own from being taken. They were making risky dives toward their fallen companion but diverting as the men brandished their spears.

The men were nearly to the edge of the forest now, where the trees got thicker and the griffons, with their large wings, would have trouble pursuing them through.

“Romilda!” I cried, “They’re taking him!”

“I’m on it.”

Romilda grabbed the bastard sword, which I thought was a good choice of weapon, but then, she grabbed the back of my shirt and drove the sword through it and into the tree, effectively pinning me there. Then, she grabbed the horsetail whisk. I let out a noise of protest.

“Stay there!” Romilda grabbed a tree branch and swung herself down like a gymnast. I wanted to sassily retort that I didn’t have much choice as she had stabbed me into the tree.

Romilda ran at the ugly men, swishing the horsetail through the air in spinny circles. They all paused for a second, slightly confused. One of the men blocked her path, leveling his pokey barbed spear at her. 

“Hey there sweetcheeks, why don’t you leave the fighting to the men? And you’d be much prettier if you smiled” he said grossly.

“Fuck off”, Romilda replied succinctly, swinging the horsetail at him and hitting him directly in the balls.

“Jesus, you bitch! Women just can’t take compliments these days. Well if you won’t smile for me, you won’t smile for anyone!” He snarled in his slimy gross rat bastard man voice as he grabbed a sachet from his belt and flung it forward, releasing a fine powder. “That’s right- stun spore. Scored some off of a few poached bulbasaurs last year. Try evading me now!” I gasped from my precarious position in the tree- not because this bitch poached bulbasaurs (so thoroughly unsurprising), but because stun spore powder paralyzed the victim if it hit, and it would be real dicey for us both if neither of us could move. 

“You really don’t know your ancient chinese weapons, do you?” Romilda smirked as she effortlessly wielded the whisk to sweep and dust away the powder as it wafted towards her. The gross man gaped in shock as his precious stun spore dissipated into the air before his very orbs, before anger flashed in his orbs and he made for his belt once again.

“You really shouldn’t have done that, pumpkin. Now I’m mad. And you won’t like daddy when he gets mad.” I grimaced from my tree- I was pretty sure that no one should be calling him daddy in Any context. Romilda clearly was having a similar reaction- she made for her magical weapons coin purse, and pulled out the nunchucks. 

“ Don’t call me pumpkin- and I’m pretty confident you’re about to like me less, too.” She snarled as she wielded nunchucks effortlessly, bonking the gross man in the head several times and pushing him back towards the rest of his group. After one final satisfying hit in his balls again, Romilda retreated a few steps, presumably to try to take stock of the situation. She looked like she was seriously pondering her next move, but before she could make any decisions, the sky went dark. The remaining 4 griffons were flying overhead, with the gross men’s nets in their claws. Upon approaching the horde of sniveling idiots, they released the nets, so that they fell directly on top of them. 

“Hah- you think you can stop us with our own nets? I’ll have you know-” The gross annoying statement was cut off as the net contorted and tightened around the men. Somehow, the griffons had managed to secure a bajillion magnets along the net, so that the net would enclose the group entirely. Because science! Looking at the scene unfolding in front of her, I saw Romilda go for her coin purse- and pull out the trebuchet. Clearly the griffons picked up what she was putting down pretty damn fast, because they picked up the mass of netted-magnetted gross men and put them in the sling. And then, in what I can only describe as the most comical and gratifying sight I have encountered, the trebuchet fired its load, and the group of 8 men disappeared into the sky á la Team Rocket. And in what I can only describe as the cutest interaction I’ve witnessed, I saw Romilda try to go in for what looked like a high five with a griffon, only to realize her mistake halfway through and try to play it off as swatting a fly away. The griffon seemed to get the vibe, though, and approached Romilda, bowing its head either as a sign of respect, or as a “I trust you, you can pat me on the head now”, or both. As moved as I was by this scene, however, I was ultimately still trapped in the willow. So, mustering up all of my breath (because my lungs are delicate and my voice is delicate but not too feminine it’s just like beautiful and delicate like me), I called out:

“Not to ruin the mood, but do you think you could get me down from up here?” Romilda turned her luscious locks, and her orbs locked onto my tiny and yet very well-proportioned body, still way up in the tree. I could see the amusement dancing in her orbs from the tree, and was torn between being wildly attracted to those caramel almond hazelnut pecan walnut cashew orbs, and also being a little pissed off. 

“ So sorry, princess- I’ll get you from your tower now” she called back. I once again was torn- I am not a princess (that would be way too conventional and like other girls!!!!), but I didn’t hate that Romilda was offering to be my knight in shining armor (not for any particular reason- I just thought that she would be really good at it because she’s so good with weapons and stuff). I settled for scoffing, rolling my Mountain View, CA sky orbs, and mumbling some half-hearted statement about not being like other girls (and certainly not princesses). 

“You know what? I’m fine!” I decided, not wanting to be like other girls and annoyed at her for even implying I might be. I grabbed the hilt of the bastard sword, both of my tiny hands barely wrapping around the large, thick, girthy hilt. I yanked back and forth with all my might, tugging and jorking it.

“Need some help there?” Romilda looked like she was trying not to laugh, which only served to incense me further. After thirty seconds of tugging, the sword slid out of the tree. I was thrown off balance, and before my orbs, the heavy sword I was gripping onto so tightly fell down to the tree branches, pulling me down with it.

I screamed and screamed as I fell down.

“Y/N!” Romilda yelled, diving for me.

The ground seemed to rush up toward me as I plummeted downwards. I braced myself, expecting to break all the tiny bones in my miniscule body but somehow landed on something warm, soft, and smelling like delicious fresh croissants and eclairs. “For someone who is so delicate and petite, you sure do know where to concentrate your force- would you mind removing your knees from my stomach?” A muffled voice came from directly beneath me, snapping me out of my bakery scent-induced trance. I glanced down and immediately registered that my knees were indeed digging into Romilda’s stomach (and I certainly did not perceive whether or not they pulled up her shirt to expose a stretch of tanned stomach with what looked like yet another vine curling across her abdomen nopenopenope didn’t happen), and that my hands had landed across her ribcage (and I for sure was not thinking about what would happen if I moved them any further up like that would be crazy behavior). 

“Oh, uh, sorry about that” I mumbled awkwardly, extricating my limbs from her body and trying to form a coherent sentence that did not include the words ‘toned’, ‘hot’, and ‘can I see all of your tattoos and maybe lick them’. Which did manage to achieve (barely). Fortunately, before I could embarrass myself any further, more screeching occurred! I was becoming more and more of a fan of this forest. Or at least, a fan of the excellent timing of some of our new friends. My gaze snapped upwards as I caught a glimpse of teal in the sky- the mother occamy had returned. “Say, you don’t think we’re going to have to mediate an interspecies battle to protect those eggs, do you? Because between you and me I’m a bit battled out” I remarked blandly, too tired to even care that I once again was at risk of being brutally mauled. 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Romilda sighed. I turned and scanned her with my orbs- if I was tired, she was exhausted . Above us, the occamy circled cautiously, keeping an orb on her babies, while the griffons leaped off the ground to meet her in the sky. Suddenly, I very conveniently remembered something that I read in this really cool book because I have a really good memory and have read nearly every book ever. 

“Hold on- I have an idea. Do you happen to have an instrument in that bag of yours?” I turned to face Romilda, trying to sound confident and not at all a little terrified. 

“Uh, sure, I’ve got a few- a guqin, a church organ, some cymbals, and a guitar.” She responded, rooting around the bag in question.

“Huh. Quite the spread you’ve got there.” I replied, unable to keep the confusion out of my voice.

“The bag’s got a bunch of weapons, so I have a selection of weaponizable instruments. Guqin’s got sharp strings, the church organ is big enough to crush your foes, the cymbals are loud enough to distract someone, and so forth” she shrugged without looking up, considering the options in the bag.

“And the guitar?” 

“I personally am atrocious at it, and I figure that there are few things scarier than a mediocre man who wants to play the guitar- I’ve escaped from quite a few tricky situations by giving Ron and Seamus the guitar and having them play at mythical beings.” 

“Well, I guess I can’t argue with that” I mused, trying to hold back a laugh. “Well, I’ll take whatever’s most convenient, anyways” Romilda pondered for another moment before pulling out the guqin. 

“This one was the easiest to get out. So, what’s the play here? You’d better not tell me that you’ve never played an instrument before, or I swear to god I will pin you to another tree” She turned and handed the instrument to me, a beautiful mahogany piece with 7 strings glinting in the moonlight. Afraid to tell her that I had, in fact, never touched a guqin before that moment (and a little afraid of opening my mouth and mindlessly propositioning her to pin me to a tree in a way involving fewer swords and more physical contact)(hahaha jkjk)(unless)(ugh wtf now is so not the time for this), I chuckled a little and turned back towards the griffons and occamy, who were cautiously circling each other in the sky. 

“Well, here goes nothing,” I said to no one in particular, before I sat and started to strum.

Chapter Text

“I cannot believe that there is a song called “Song to make Occamies and Griffons Friends Again <3” that you read about in some book, and that you managed to play it perfectly on the first try- on an instrument you have literally never touched before. Protagonist Halo goes crazy, I guess” Romilda stared at me, completely baffled. I blushed under her gaze, turning my head towards the water. The song had certainly delivered what it claimed to- the mother occamy reclined in the water, lazily coiled around her eggs, while the griffons batted playfully at her twitching tail and wings. The scene was almost idyllic, save for the destroyed guns littering the shore and the gauges where the trebuchet had been. 

“I’m the Chosen One, what do you want me to say? Honestly, more than the guqin and the song, I’m baffled at how we got here in the first place. I mean- I know we walked through the night with the intent to find the occamy eggs and yadda yadda, but the reality is that these eggs shouldn’t have been stolen.” I closed my orbs, reflecting on the information I had so conveniently recalled earlier.

“What do you mean by that?” Romilda looked over at me, confused.

“I mean that griffons aren’t supposed to be stealing occamy eggs. That’s not their normal behavior. They’re normally reserved and prideful- you’d hate to run into them in the wild, but they’re not seeking you out in the first place. For that matter, they’re not known to go after eggs, especially not dragon eggs. They usually hunt in packs or prides or whatever you want to call them, and go after prey animals like ophiotauruses. Occamies and griffons are both so territorial, they really shouldn’t even be in the same vicinity. Something’s not right here. I mean, the whole reason that friendship song exists is because the last time there was a standoff between griffons and occamies, it was the harbinger for a much larger issue- there was a severe underlying disruption in the magical ecosystem that made all sorts of creatures go haywire. From what the book said, it was pretty catastrophic- several endangered species started attacking one another, and even more were suddenly targeted by human groups because they were perceived as dangerous, even when the root issue wasn’t the species at all. Tonight, seeing this- I just don’t like the look of this at all.” I took a deep breath, hoping both that I was wrong, and also hoping that Romilda wouldn’t think I was crazy or lying. 

“So what caused it? And how did they fix it?” Romilda’s voice snapped me out of my own thoughts, bringing me back to reality.

“I don’t know. The book I read on this was written partway through the devastation- they knew what was happening, but didn’t know the cause, much less how to fix it.” I had read a lot of books in my day, and had been doing so since I had started reading (which was the day after I was born bc I’m so smart and special), but for the first time in my life I felt like it didn’t matter at all- without this critical piece of information, I knew I hadn’t read nearly enough. 

~~~

We emerged from the forest as the sun rose across the lake, the water glistening. I paused for a moment to take a breath. A plop noise a little ways away startled me and I saw a red tail disappearing into the water.

I saw the outline of a fish shape nearing the shoreline where Romilda and I stood.

A yellow fin emerged from the water.

“What is that thing?” I asked Romilda.

“Magikarp,” she responded. “Let’s keep going.”

The red and yellow fish was swimming in little circles right next to where we were. I dipped a hand into the water, brushing its scales. At the touch, the magikarp startled and darted away.

I left my hand in there, enjoying the cool water. I was sooo tired and my brain was pretty fried from all the sexuality crises I’d been having lately. I did read though that every girl goes through this phase at my age. But I’m not like other girls!

The magikarp swam back up and bumped his face into my hand.

“Hey, he likes me!” I said smugly to Romilda.

“What creature on this earth could possibly resist you ?” she responded, rolling her orbs at me.

The magikarp was now swimming little derpy circles around and occasionally brushing up against my hand, looking up at me with a pouty little face. I stroked his underbelly, feeling the soft, unscaled skin. Suddenly, he shook back and forth, and I felt an object fall into my palm. I drew my hand out of the water to inspect it closer. It was a perfect, red fish scale, about the size of a galleon.

“We need to get back now, Y/N,” Romilda was grabbing my arm and tugging me gently in the direction of the castle. I didn’t want to leave my new fishy friend, but Romilda was stronger than me and steered me away and up the stone steps.

“Goodbye little fishy!” I called back to my new friend. Wow. Animals love me, I can’t help it. I am the Chosen One, after all. We made our way up the steps in the dawn light, and paused at the massive double doors. I was unsure what to do or say- what can you say to an acquaintance you have really confusing feelings for after a harrowing event that has possibly revealed the onset of a massive devastation? Taking a deep breath in, I decided to give it a shot anyways, but was cut short by a wall of flesh stepping between us and grabbing Romilda by the arm.

“Milly! Where have you been all night? We had to lie out of our asses to get McGonagall off your back” a frat bro voice boomed from the wall of flesh who had so rudely tried to interrupt my frankly embarrassing attempt at a goodbye. 

“Cormac! Sorry mate, I had a crazy night studying. You know how exams get to be right before the holidays” Romilda replied. It may have been my ears, but she sounded…off. Like her voice was strained, or like she was repressing some emotion. This man was tall and heavily muscle bound. He was like a large, muscley tower. Suddenly I wished I was a little taller than 4 feet tall.

“Studying, huh? Is that what they call it these days? Well then maybe you and I should study sometime.” He said in an overtly and really obnoxiously flirty tone. His wizard hat, placed jauntily backwards on his head, made him look like even more of a douche face. He seemed to not notice me, since I was way below his orbline.

“Make your way out of remedial classes and we’ll see about that” she responded teasingly (or was that exasperatedly?). Without a word, I turned away quickly and pushed through the doors, hardly looking up as I started twisting and turning through the corridors. Inexplicably, my feet seemed to move as quickly as possible away from Romilda and Comac McLaggen. My stomach felt sour as I thought about the flirty way Cormac addressed Romilda, and even more sour when I thought about the way she had responded to his proposition. I didn’t get it- it really was none of my beeswax if Cormac wanted to ‘study’ with Romilda, much less if she wanted to do anything with him. Really, outside of this inane quest, we had no reason to know or interact with each other. Never mind my weird attraction to her (if that was what it was bc I still was refusing to confront it head-on)- we didn’t owe anything to each other, and feeling like this over a 30 second interaction with the magical equivalent of a frat bro was frankly ridiculous. I should have been above this!! I couldn’t believe I was being swept away by my emotions, just like every other girl. Surely I should have been thinking with my head, with all of the books that I had read, and not with my heart? 

Feeling more conflicted than ever, I looked up, realizing that despite my tempestuous thoughts and mindless wandering, that I had at least made my way back to Dumbledore’s office. I breathed a sigh of relief, already daydreaming about the shower I was going to take, and the rest I was going to get. Until I remembered all of the phoenix chores I for sure needed to take care of. FUCK.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Instead of the gentle light filtering through the door that I expected to wake up to, I instead woke up to a mop of luscious locks and the smell of baguettes and cardamom buns. 

“R-Romilda?” I mumbled groggily.

“Surely you didn’t think you could get out of this now , after the night we had yesterday?”

“Need I remind you, we didn’t get any farther. No swords, no artifacts, no nothing. Just a night of terrible sleep. And, I guess, a nice family reunion. Is there even a this to be a part of?” I scowled, pulling my sheets further up my face. It was far too early to deal with any of this- with Romilda in my room, with my confusing emotions, and with whatever the hell we had encountered last night. 

“Bullshit. You know we found something last night, and you just don’t want to deal with it. I mean, I thought something was up when you left in a rush like that last night, but I didn’t think you’d be this hardheaded.” She scoffed and rolled her orbs, the daylight highlighting the golden flecks in them. I tried (and failed) not to think about the fact that she had noticed me leaving in a rush. 

“You know what? If you’re so sure that we’re on the right path, why don’t we talk to that weirdo in the wall about it” I stretched my arms over my head, pulled my locks into my messiest bun yet, and rolled out of bed. 

“Fine by me” She glowered at me before turning away and walking further into Dumbledore’s office. I followed behind her, tugging my converse onto my feet (I was so quirky that I put one of a different color on each foot- I’m just so different like that). Of course, it was only when I stood beside her, facing the wall that the weirdo in question was behind, that it occurred to me that I had no fucking clue how to reach out to him again. Not wanting to tell this to Romilda after having been the one to suggest it, I confidently strode towards it, turning the fish scale in my pocket as I approached. Nothing happened.

Preparing myself to admit that I had no fucking clue what I was doing, I started to turn around- until a creak stopped me in my tracks. A cheerful red light danced on the wall, bouncing off of the newly-exposed painting. Looking down in my hands with surprise, I realized that I had pulled the fish scale out of my pocket on my walk over. The early afternoon sunlight (I went to bed at like 5am, what did you expect?) had glinted off of the scale, and the reflection had hit the wall, triggering the mechanism. Fascinating… I thought to myself, silently relieved that I wouldn’t have to face Romilda after an embarrassing failure, before a reedy voice pulled my attention back to the wall.

“Well, well, well. I certainly didn’t give you enough credit when we first talked.” The aggravating wizard in the painting said with a smirk. I instinctively rolled my orbs in response. 

“Are you going to bother telling us what that means, or are you just going to speak cryptically and then fuck off, like last time?” I said in a voice that came out much less scathing and much more exhausted than I wanted.

“Oh, don’t get snippy with me now. You know as well as I do that all of these ridiculous quests have wild caveats where key characters can’t actually say anything all that useful until the plot dictates it. I’m as tied up as you are, I’m afraid.” The voice responded, clearly amused.

“Well, I suppose that’s fair. Seeing as you deigned to speak to us again, can I assume you have some sort of update to give us? Or are you just here to press our buttons and then leave a salty message on the wall again?”

“I don’t know that I’d call it an update, per se. After all, you still haven’t proven yourself worthy of any of the four founders yet. However, I was called forth by that scale in your hand. As such, I feel I can share at least this- though you have not tangibly progressed, you hold the key in your hand. After your night in the Forbidden Forest, your path to success should be clear now, should you choose to follow it.” With a sly smile, the wizard waved his hand, and the wall swung shut again. 

“So, is there still no this , then?” I could hear the smirk in Romilda’s voice. My heart skipped a beat. Stupid heart. She was for sure not talking about the this that had lingered in my brain all night, and crept into my dreams- the this that involved fewer battles with dragons and more battles with tongues for dominance. Whatever that meant.

“I need at least a week to recover from last night, but fine. There’s a this .” I rolled my orbs in an attempt to sound way less flustered about this than I was, and turned around in an attempt to hide the flush creeping up my neck. Hopefully a week would be enough time to work through whatever I was feeling about Romilda. 

Chapter Text

That night at dinner, Dumbledore stood up, tapping his glass for quiet. Students looked up from their meals, respectfully quiet, except for Harry who glared down at his plate, looking dark and mysterious.

“I have an announcement to make,” he began, “as some of you may know, every time I say so, we have a Yule Ball. And this year, I do say so! It will take place on Christmas Eve.”

The students cheered, and as Dumbledore sat down, a bubble of excited chatter grew as students began discussing the Yule Ball.

 I glanced toward Romilda, and was dismayed to see her engaged in conversation with that goliath McLaggen. Several girls nearby glanced over at the pair jealously, orbing McLaggen hopefully as if he might want to take them to the Yule Ball. With a jolt, I realized I was also orbing the pair jealously, just like the other girls!

I chided myself internally and forced my orbs to focus on something else. Beach leaf lime green orbs locked on mine. Harry. He was looking at me with urgency, staring at me as if I were a different person. Don’t know what that’s about.

I turned back to my food, stabbing my fork a little too vigorously into my green beans, only thinking about how beans grew on vines and Romilda’s arms had vines on them. One of the beans shot out from under my fork and beaned Hagrid in the face.

“Oi there,” Hagrid grunted, pawing at his beard, where the bean had lodged itself rather like an arrow into a target.

“Sorry Hagrid!” I apologized, feeling bad.

“Who said tha’?” Hagrid looked around, but I was far below his field of vision.

“Down here,” I said. Hagrid squinted his beetle black orbs in my direction.

“Oh, ‘ello there, Y/N” he said, peering down at me. “Wha’s got yeh in a right mood? Shouldn’t yer be excited for the Yule Ball?”

“I don’t know if I’ll even go,” I muttered, stabbing my green beans even more.

“Why not?” Hagrid frowned.

“I don’t even know who I’d go with. And I’m not like other girls. Other girls are going to this ball.” I responded, accidentally shooting another green bean into Hagrid’s beard. I winced. Hagrid still hadn’t managed to get the first bean out.

I glanced back over at Romilda just in time to see McLaggen slide a meaty hand to brush a strand of her perfect Pantene luscious locks out of her face. My heart caught in my throat and I stood up abruptly, muttering an incomprehensible apology to Hagrid as I stumbled out of the great hall.

What an idiot I was! Why couldn’t I control this feeling in my chest? Why did I care about what this meaty tower did with Romilda? Heart thudding in my ears, I strode down the halls, taking turns at random until I looked up, only to see the only place that could make me feel better- the library. Taking a deep breath of the wonderfully musty scent of books, I wandered the shelves, pulling out books at random, reading through them (which took like 2 minutes tops), and then placing them in a haphazard pile next to my armchair. 

I finally felt at peace, acquiring all of this new knowledge. As I rose from my chair to grab my next book, I suddenly walked full-force into what appeared to be a mass of luscious locks. Fortunately for my heart, there were no bakery scents this time- only the musk of a truly mysterious and dark bad boy who probably had a tragic past. Harry Potter-Styles whipped around, with far less surprise in his verdant Facetime Icon green orbs than I expected.

“Y/N… I had hoped to find you here. Any chance I could take you out to the Yule Ball, love?” He said in his melodic British accent. My mouth moved before my brain could catch up with it, and before I could take the words back, or ask what the hell was happening, I heard myself say:

“Oh, uh, okay.”

 His dark and mysterious gaze remained unchanged as he nodded at my response, and then retreated back into the shadows from whence he came.

My head spun. Did I really just agree to go out with Harry Potter-Styles? I didn’t even want to go to this Yule Ball!

I spent the rest of the night in a tired, confused frenzy, pulling books off the shelves at random, reading them in 69 seconds each and tossing them onto my pile. By the time the sun rose through the dusty window, my pile only reached 5 feet tall, but there were 14 of them. I couldn’t reach higher than 5 feet, being only 4 feet tall myself. Unfortunately. And I hadn’t thought at all about Romilda, or Harry, or any of that. At least, I had tried not to. However, before I knew it, there was a Human Sexuality book in my hands, and I considered that maybe it was high time to deal with the can I had been kicking down the road. Or maybe not. I read the whole book, decided to once again process that shit later (and kick that can a little farther down the road), and headed back to my uncle’s office to feed Fawkes. 

~~~

Days went by, and I didn’t see Romilda, or Harry, or anybody for that matter. I poured through books in the Restricted section, trying to find anything about the First Devastation. I couldn’t find anything about why it started, or what fixed it. It was a mysterious mystery, even more mysterious than Harry Potter-Styles. It gnawed on my brain, consuming my waking hours. I kept coming back to the griffons’ strange behavior in the woods. Not only that, but I kept on thinking about how confused I was that Harry Potter-Styles had asked me out, and the curious memory I had seen of him in the Pensieve. Something told me that I had to get to know him better- or maybe that was how I justified having said ‘yes’ to his invitation and not rescinding it the moment I got my wits about me again. I couldn’t tell how or if it was linked to our night in the woods, but I felt deeply that if I was going to show my worth and obtain this knowledge, that I was going to have to face my worst fear of all- being like other girls.

At the same time, I worked on designing my own dress for the Yule ball. It was my secret project - my secret shame. I worked feverishly on it, keeping it locked up inside the closet of my room. Not only that, but I snuck out to Hogsmeade to buy myself *shudder* heels *shudder* (which brought me to a whopping 4’5” when they were on), and even went to a magical optometrist to get magical contacts, so that I could remove my oversized nerdy glasses the night of the dance. Possibly the worst offense was the makeup- mascara, orbliner, orbshadow, etc.- the works. Not only did I buy it, I spent hours learning how to apply it properly. My final touch was the hair- for the first time in years, I let it out of its messy bun in full daylight, washed it with shampoo and conditioner, and curled it. I managed to obtain beautiful beachy waves, but my brain kept pushing images of Romilda’s luscious locks into my brain. I wondered if her hair would be as soft as it looked, or would smell as good as she did. Then I promptly decided that I did not need to be doing my hair for practice any more, at least not if it would lead to me daydreaming like that .

One day as I was leaving the great hall, a student stopped me, one I had never met before.

“Are you Y/N?” she asked me. I nodded mutely, having not spoken to another human being since my awkward exchange with Harry in my home (the library).

“Is it true?” she asked, excitedly. “You are going to the Yule Ball with Harry Potter-Styles?”

“How did you know––” I began, but she prattled on.

“It’s all anyone’s talking about! The darkest, hottest and most mysterious bad boy who has never been seen with any girl ever, is taking out his first date.”

“Uhh…” I said.

“Not to mention, he’s never been seen going out with any girl ever!” She said.

“You did mention that,” I responded.

“So it is true? Is it?” She urged.

“Uh… yes?” I said.

She gasped and ran back to her friends. All of them put their heads together and began talking excitedly.

This was enough human interaction for one day, but then a buttery warm bakery scent filled my nose holes for the first time in days. Secretly, my holes had longed for that scent.

“Well, now, I was beginning to think you didn’t live here anymore! I thought maybe that the impending ball was making everyone act so much like every other girl that you couldn’t stand it and fled,” I could hear Romilda’s orb-roll before I saw it. 

“I’ve been busy,” I muttered.

“I’ll say,” Romilda snorted. “Heard about your hot date. Been spending all your time with Potter-Styles?”

My head snapped around and our orbs connected. What did she care? She was clearly having her own hot dates with Mr. Bulging Tower of Muscles McLaggen. Romilda raised an orb brow. 

“And if I have? What’s it to you?” I retorted before I could stop myself. This conversation was quickly taking a direction I was not sure I wanted to be headed. Romilda went quiet. “I haven’t been spending time with him, anyways. I don’t even know why he asked me out” I mumbled with far less heat in my words.

“...oh. I uh, assumed that you had a thing going with him. He kinda famously is dark and mysterious and a lone wolf. I mean, you saw what happened when I tried to cozy up to him. We all kinda figured that you were the one to change his heart, fix him, and teach him how to love. It makes sense, what with you being so unlike other girls and so special.” Romilda said softly, an indiscernible look in her cardboard peanut butter almond butter cashew butter browned butter orbs. My heart stuttered as I tried to ignore my unhelpful brain that wanted to believe that that look was sad and maybe a little bit lonely, and that wanted to believe that Romilda had thought about me even a fraction of the amount that I had thought about her. 

“No, that’s not it. I mean, I am special and different. But we’re not going out. I have no clue why he’s treating me so differently, although I guess it would make sense that it would be me that would be special.” My words tumbled out of me, and I cut myself off just before admitting that the only reason that I had agreed to go at all was to try to dig into his mysterious past. For some reason, I wanted her to entertain the possibility that maybe I did want to go out with Harry Potter-Styles. Maybe I was just embarrassed to be using him like that. At least, that’s what I told myself. 

“Gotcha. Well, either way, you’re the talk of the town. I guess I just wanted to check in on the quest- it’s been over a week, and I wasn’t sure whether you’d had time to do any more research if you had been boinking Mr. Mystery.” She said, her tone oddly level and cold and her orbs still unreadable.

“I screened the whole library for books on the First Devastation, but didn’t really find much to report. I can give you my notes sometime next week? I mean, I kinda figured that you might be busy yourself with Mr. Muscle McLaggen up until the Yule Ball passes” I said, trying and failing to waggle my orbbrows in a salacious way.

“Him? No way, you’ve gotta be-” she scoffed, unable to complete her thought without rolling her orbs heavily.

“So you’re not going with him?” I said, my orbbrows raising in genuine surprise.

“I mean, yeah, I am. It wasn’t my first choice, but he asked and I didn’t have any better options, so…” she trailed off. It took every fiber in my being to not immediately ask who her first choice was (was it Harry Potter-Styles??? Or maybe Noiall??), or to ask who a better option might have been.

I stared down at my shoes, my mismatched converse feeling especially mismatched today. One green, one blue. Embarrassing. So quirky.
“I hope you two have a fun time,” I mumbled, resigning myself to another lonely few days as I turned to leave.

I’d barely taken a step when her hand caught my arm.

“Y/N, stop.” she pinched the spot between her orbs, closing them for a second. “I didn’t mean to come and accuse you like this. The truth is…”

I froze, hanging on her every words, my orbs still trained on the ground.

“What is the truth?”

“I… missed being around you.” she said. I looked up at her, a flood of warmth filling my chest at her words, but this time she was the one looking down at her shoes. “I mean… we’re friends right?”

Friends? I wanted to be friends with her. But why did I feel a strange sense of melancholy at her words?

“Yes, of course!” I stumbled over my words trying to get them out. “I’ve never had a friend before.”

She raised an orbbrow at me.

“You certainly are not like other girls,” she smirked.

“I pride myself on it,” I said. “But I can make an exception for you.”

Our orbs met.

“Now why don’t you tell me what you were up to in the past few days?” she asked, gesturing down the stone corridor ahead of us. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be so lonely anymore.

Chapter Text

An indeterminate number of days passed in what felt like a flash, and suddenly the Big Day (for everyone else, but not for me because I didn’t care) was upon Hogwarts: the Yule Ball. As I pulled my heels and handmade red gown on, I reflected on my past few days with a smile. 

When I had told Romilda about how I spent those few days avoiding everybody, her burnt umber coffee amber orbs filled with more concern than I’d ever seen. Not from my horrible mother, or even my loving uncle. She made me promise not to do that again. Though it was just a quirky part of my personality to spend time alone, I made the promise, and it seemed to make her happy.

In the days leading up to the ball, we spent all of our free time trying to learn as much as we could about the First Devastation and coming up short. We spent late nights in the library (my favorite place!) together, but Romilda also convinced me to come join her in the Gryffindor common room. We sat in armchairs near the fireplace as we poured over books together.

I still had refused to show her my dress, which lived in my closet of shame. I didn’t want to show it to her until I had to wear it, so as to avoid being Like Other Girls for as long as I possibly could.

I had followed a pattern from a book I found in the library, after thoroughly researching stitching, fabrics, and dressmaking. I felt satisfied that I’d created a dress that would be passable, though unfortunately it would make me look like the other girls.

I had taken to carrying the Magikarp scale around with me, and Romilda surprised me by performing a tricky little charm that affixed the red scale to a necklace. It rested like a pendant at the base of my throat.

There were three more necessary steps that I knew I had to conquer in order to prepare myself for the Ball, though I dreaded each more than the last.

First, with trembling fingers I reached up and removed my glasses. My big, nerdy glasses that sat on my face. My security blanket. I replaced them with the magical contact lenses that lived in my shame closet.

Second, shivering with fear, I grabbed the makeup bag that lived even further in the closet of shame, and stared in the mirror. I read 17 books to prepare for this, so I knew the theory. In practice, I was terrified. I grabbed my orbshadow, applied it. Orbliner? Got it. Orblash curler, check. Mascara onto my orblashes, and a deep red lipstick. I took a long, shuddering breath.

Third, closing my orbs and trying not to cry, I reached up and undid my messy bun. My wavy hair cascaded perfectly down my slender shoulders, framing my face.

I stopped and stared at myself in the mirror. A stranger stared back. She was beautiful, she was not me. But when I moved, she moved. I will pretend to be her for tonight.

Unlike the past few balls, which had been held in the Great Hall, the Yule Ball was placed outside. The lake, normally iced over and desolate by this time of year, had been magically kept thawed, and a variety of lively fish (Magikarp, Goldeen, Finneon and the like) glided through the water. A stunning ice platform was suspended above the lake, with delicate ice bridges (think Elsa’s castle in Frozen) connecting to the shores in the four cardinal directions. Icy braziers blazed on either side of each bridge, providing a warm glow and gentle warmth. A silken white tent hovered above the platform, keeping in the magically warmed atmosphere, and keeping any unwanted weather out. Fairy lights adorned the lush vegetation on the banks, snaked around the bridges, and spanned the edges of the platform, giving a very tumblr 2012 aesthetic. Someone had magicked the plants on the shores, forcing them into delicate blue and white blooms that filled the air with a sweet fragrant scent. 

To any other girl, the atmosphere would have been charming, and even romantic. Of course, it was not to my tastes at all. I gazed at the scene, twiddling nervously with my corsage (a white chrysanthemum). I felt totally out of my depth with my hair done, my glasses off, my makeup applied, and with high heels and a gown on. My heart pounded louder than it had even when we had faced the poachers, griffons, and occamy- all because I looked like every other girl, and that was a terrifying thought to me. Not only that, but I had yet to see Harry Potter-Styles anywhere, which was hardly helping my anxiety. 

Surely he wouldn’t stand me up after going to all that effort to ask me out, and then to randomly shove the corsage into my hands yesterday afternoon as he left uncle’s office, right? I thought uneasily to myself, anxiously scanning the throngs of teenaged witches and wizards as they giggled and swooned at their dressed-up peers. I thought of Romilda, and wondered what her dress would be like. My heart couldn’t decide whether it wanted to see her, or whether the sight of her all dressed up and with Cormac (more like Corm-ICK amirite) would do me in. As per usual, I was lost in my thoughts, when a gentle tug to my elbow pulled me out of my reverie.

“Wow, I had no idea you were so beautiful this whole time, Y/N.” A mysterious and sexy bad boy voice rasped from somewhere over my shoulder. “I thought you were moderately ugly and plain with your hair in that bun and those atrocious glasses on, but it turns out that you were actually hot this whole time, and that you just needed to take off the glasses and pull out the bun to reveal this shocking fact.” He said in a matter of fact, monotonous but still sexy and husky voice.

“Thanks?” I replied, unable to keep the confusion and bafflement out of my voice. “I wouldn’t get used to it if I were you, though- I feel way too much like other girls for my comfort right now.”

“Fair enough- I’m hardly in my comfort zone here, either” I turned my head and gasped softly in surprise. Harry had pulled his locks into a really cool looking half-up half down look that he totally rocked, and was wearing a fitted all black suit. His red tie matched my gown, as did his white chrysanthemum boutonniere. He almost looked like a totally average, not that mysterious (but still very sexy) man, and just like a dressed up student. Not only that, but I was shocked that he had strung so many words together- I felt like I had heard him say more in the past two minutes than possibly ever before in the entirety of the time I had known him. There was something off about him today, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. 

“Well, at least we can suffer together?” I joked, trying to alleviate the awkward environment. 

Harry did not respond.

With nothing better to do, we linked arms and proceeded stiffly down the steps of the castle, toward one of the sparkling lake entrance bridges. As the other students started to notice us, they gave us a wide berth but stared at us, some clearly whispering.

Suddenly, a loud popping sound came from above us on the steps, and a small object went whizzing past me, nailing Harry between the orbs. A champagne cork clattered onto the ground. Harry staggered backwards, clutching his face. Nobody around us seemed to notice though, since they were all now staring up at the source of the noise.

I knew who it was. A loud and raucous whooping meant that it could only be one obnoxious redwood gargantuan tower sized boy, probably holding a smoking champagne bottle. Comac McLaggingBehindInHisClasses. Ugh.

I slowly turned to look with everyone else, but I didn’t even see him. My orbs were immediately drawn to the girl beside him, who I could only describe as a vision. She glided down the stairs in a greek-style white gown, with a v-shaped neckline exposing that her tattoos trailed down to the center of her chest and arm bands highlighting her strong biceps. A thin gold wreath of leaves sat atop her flowing curls. One might expect me to have several thoughts, as per usual. But for once, I only had one thought, and that thought was: I am for sure not straight, because I for sure do not want to be just friends. Did I have many (read: any) other friends? No. However, having read virtually all of the books in the world, including several fictional ones, I was relatively aware of the fact that friends don’t normally want to kiss their friends all the time. Or gaze longingly into their orbs as you make breakfast together in your small quaint cottage with your pet cats and goats. Or at least, I was pretty confident that that was the case. It seemed that I had finally come across the can I had kicked down the road for several months- I could no longer deny, ignore, or repress whatever it was that I felt for Romilda, which I finally could acknowledge was an insane raging crush. One might argue that I could have realized this about myself much earlier, but the reality is that I simply refused to look those feelings head-on and accept what they meant until this very second. So. 

This epiphany came too late, for now I held the arm of a boy I didn’t think about, and she was with a large dumb boy whose giant shoes I could never fill with my tiny petite doll sized Cinderella feet. 

I mean… we’re friends, right? her voice echoed in my head. I needed to shut down these thoughts. I couldn’t lose my only friend. I rather liked having a friend, albeit one I was deeply infatuated with.

I gripped Styles-Potter’s arm as steered him toward the bridge, determined to gather myself before Romilda came near me.

I could hardly appreciate the glittering walkways of smooth angled cut ice, like glass but we magically weren’t slipping. I was focused on entering the tent and disappearing into the crowd for a while.

I breathed a sigh of relief when we got to the entrance of the tent. Harry pulled back the tent flap and entered, leaving me behind him. Not very chivalrous! But that was okay with me, because only other girls would care about that.

I pushed my way into the tent, and my orbs bugged out looking around. The inside had been magically expanded to ten times the size of the tent. It was a giant ballroom with vaulted ceilings and an elaborate floating crystal chandelier the size of a U-Haul truck.

A big band stood on a raised platform in the center of the icy dance floor, playing an instrumental rendition of such moving tunes as “Slob On My Nob”, “WAP”, “Wait (The Whisper Song)”, “My Neck, My Back”, and the like. 

There were tables piled high with food in every corner. Enchanted magical birds made from ice twittered as they flew around the tent ballroom. In the immediate aftermath of my sexuality crisis and resolution, the last thing I wanted to do was dance with some random man in a dress I felt awful in, to music that was way too mainstream to enjoy. Fighting to keep the despair from showing, I plastered a smile to my face and turned to my ‘date’.

“So, how about that dance? I mean we came all this way and dressed in an absolutely ridiculous fashion, so we might as well fully commit to this bullshit and take a few turns around the floor?” I asked in my best, most chipper voice.

“Ok.” Harry responded, sounding so wildly unenthusiastic that I thought he might prefer to jump into the frigid water than turn around and dance with me. Just as I was mustering my best happy-go-lucky voice to tell him that we didn’t have to do anything, I felt his calloused hand gently grab my waist as he guided me to the floor. As we joined the masses of dancing students, the band transitioned from “Take Me To Church” into a moving rendition of “Girls Like Girls”, which I thought was almost a little too on the nose given my recent realizations. 

“There was something I needed to talk with you about,” he said quietly, as we revolved. “To be honest, I didn’t ask you to this frankly ridiculous event because I want to be with you. I mean, you look great- much better than usual-, but you’re not really my type.” His orbs darted around my face, anxiously avoiding orb contact. I breathed out a sigh of relief at this admission.

“To be honest, I didn’t accept hoping that you were into me. You, uh, aren’t really my type either.” I responded, eager to get the weight of my recent realization off of my chest. “So, what’s the deal?” I asked, the lightness in my voice not forced for the first time all evening.

“It’s kind of a long story, and a bit complicated. But it has to do with you being Divergent- the Chosen One. I normally avoid asking for help because I’m so mysterious and a lone wolf, but it seems that the only way for me to get the answers I’m seeking is to work with you.” Harry looked like every word was a painful admission. He clearly did not want my help, and resented every second of having to ask for it.

“Huh. Honestly, this is not nearly the craziest thing I’ve heard all month. I might need more information to be of any help, though. What answers are you seeking? And why does it matter that I’m Divergent?” 

“It matters because I’ve started having visions,” Harry grimaced. “Especially when you are around. They’ve become more frequent since I first met you in Dumbledore’s office. He thinks the two things are related. He has something of mine–– something my parents left me before they died but he won’t give it to me until he thinks the time is right.”

Another couple dancing nearby got a little too close by me and Harry. He levelled them with a glare from his toady lime orbs. They quickly retreated.

“That’s where you come in, Y/N,” Harry continued. “It’s connected, my visions and you.”

“It’s connected,” I repeated slowly. “And these visions, what are they?”

“I–– my family, that is–– we’re clairvoyants. I didn’t have any visions growing up, but about a month before you came, I saw you in the library. While I was in Dumbledore’s office. He told me then that my parents were clairvoyants, and that it was unexpected that my visions had started. For most clairvoyants, the visions don’t start until they’re adults, well out of school. Mine started a few years too early- and Dumbledore thinks that you’re the reason why, Y/N.”

“So you want to know why I caused your visions to start?” I asked, furrowing my brows as I registered the full scope of what Harry was saying. 

“Neither of us have the answers,” he responded, “But I think we could work together.”

“Alright,” I said slowly, thinking. My one on one time with Romilda would certainly be shortened, but Harry’s presence wouldn’t be a terrible addition. I did enjoy that he wasn’t like other boys, who couldn’t see the future, since he could see the future. “So, any thoughts on how to prove to Dumbledore that you’re ready to get whatever it was that your parents left you?” 

Harry considered the question, and opened his luscious lips to respond. Before he could say anything, however, he was cut short by a massive CRACK , followed by a series of yelps and screams. Whipping our heads up, we saw dozens of wizards and witches fleeing the dance floor- and a Massive. Fucking. Crack. In. The. Ice. Platform. 

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Another fissure opened up in the ground, followed by another loud THUD that shook the floor. More cracks opened up, and several wizards and witches fell through.

“What’s going on?” I cried, and I looked over to see fear in Harry’s normally mysterious and shadowy pickle orbs.

“Something’s attacking the tent. Something big and magical,” he replied. “Probably ancient powerful magic.” 

The loudest THUD yet echoed through the icy ballroom, as the fissure widened impossibly and a red head the size of a carriage emerged through the crack. A monstrous serpentine body followed, and then the monster’s head slammed into the vaulted ceiling, punching a hole straight through to the outside. The monster got stuck for a moment with its head halfway out, but then it wrested itself free and fell to the floor. The room started shrinking, collapsing as the outside rushed in. The undetectable extension charm put on the tent must have broken.

Suddenly, I felt bodies pressed on every side of me, panicked voices in my ears.

“What the hell is that?”

“There’s no way that’s what I think it is, right?”

“WAAAHHH MOMMY” Various voices shrieked all at once. I turned my head, trying to get a better view of whatever it was that was currently thrashing around and destroying the stage. Suddenly, ruby cherry raspberry red orbs locked onto my own, and I got a good look at its face. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I suddenly understood what the second voice was talking about- there should have been no way that we were seeing what we were seeing. This massive prehistoric dinosaur looking creature was unmistakably a Gyarados.

“So, uh, correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t Gyaradoses supposed to be blue? And also, uh, aren’t they supposed to like only appear in times of conflict, where they proceed to go on rampages? Because that’s not like Super Ideal if that’s the case” I said to no one in particular, knowing full well that the questions I were asking were not really questions, but facts that I had memorized from one of my many, many books. Surprisingly, I heard a husky and mysterious voice respond.

“Yeah, the rampages last about a month, I heard.” I could feel Harry’s chest vibrate behind me as he responded, sounding surprisingly unconcerned about the crisis at hand.

“Yikes. I know that they’re weak to electricity, but other than that I have no practical experience subduing Pokemon- any thoughts there?” I asked, hoping that maybe there would be a mine of Gyarados expertise beneath that mysterious and cool facade. 

“Honestly, my first priority is getting the hell out of here- there are way too many people for a bad boy lone wolf like me, and there’s no chance of us fighting if we can’t even lift our arms above our heads” Humming in agreement, I scanned my surroundings, searching for something to break us out of the mob of panicking teens. Fortunately, the Gyarados took care of that for us. With a massive SPLASH, CRUNCH, and TEAR , it slapped the water with its tail, further breaking the ice bridges and shredding the remnants of the tent, releasing the masses into a free-fall headed straight for the water. 

“Well, it looks like you got what you wished for- any thoughts now, wise guy?” I yelled, flailing my petite arms as I tried to mentally scan through every book I had read on icy water, hypothermia, drowning, and water-type Pokemon. 

“Yeah- I think that you’re a magnet for trouble, and that it’s a damn good thing you’re petite enough to carry” a warm voice, followed by the scent of crumpets and tea washed over me as two strong, tattooed arms enveloped my waist. Romilda. I quickly sucked in a breath, and, hoping that she wouldn’t be able to feel my racing heart, mumbled something extremely intelligent and to the effect of

“You’re not Harry”

We glided down towards the water before pivoting and landing gently on the shores (thanks, magic!). Romilda gently released me from her grip, and I turned around to see her looking equal parts amused and displeased.

“Astute observation there, Y/N. I’m not Harry. Would you like me to be?” Her orb brows quirked up teasingly. Fortunately, before I could even attempt to respond (which would have gone poorly, let’s be honest), the Gyarados whipped its tail, causing the water to swirl vigorously, giving me something much more pressing to panic about. 

“Please tell me it’s not using whirlpool?” I asked, once again knowing that the question was pointless because I had all of the knowledge memorized in my big beautiful unique brain (the only unpetite thing about me), and my knowledge definitely pointed to this being whirlpool. I wished now more than ever that my mother had sold me to my other uncle, Professor Oak, knowing that with my specialness and uniqueness I totally would have had an insane, overpowered team of legendaries that could take this Gyarados out in an instant. But alas. 

I tentatively began orbing the remnants of fairy lights on the shore (a lasso, perhaps?), the debris in the lake (mayhaps a projectile to throw), and the folds of Romilda’s dress (hoping that the weapons bag was there and certainly not having any other thoughts), considering all of the materials that we could possibly use to approach the fish/dragon/something. Feeling in my heart that this was not the right approach, but not having any better ideas, I steeled myself, grabbed a nearby fairy light, and began tying complex knots into it (yet another thing I learned from the books).

I felt the piercing gaze of those crimson orbs, and my own orbs snapped up to meet them. The makeshift lasso slipped through my fingers. There was no way I could use that, not when all I could see was anguish in the orbs of this Gyarados.  Immediately, I understood- once again, something was supremely wrong. Something deep and dark and evil was making this large beast act up, entirely out of its own control, and turning humanity against the poor creature as a result. There was something familiar about this creature’s orbs, almost like we recognized each other.

Wishing that my protagonist's halo and specialness would maybe attract an equally powerful being that could deal with this whole situation, I sighed and fiddled with the scale resting at the base of my neck. 

“Not to disrupt your moody, quirky thinking time, but maybe we should do something about this massive Gyarados that’s currently tossing my classmates into the lake?” Romilda yelled over the noises of destruction. She slid a hand into her pocket (bc ofc her dress had pockets) to pull out her coin purse, which she began promptly opening. 

“Wait- we can’t just attack it willy-nilly!” I yelled back, hoping my delicate petite voice would be loud enough to reach her. “Look at its orbs- it's in pain! This Gyarados is a victim, just like the occamies and those griffons were.”

Romilda heaved out her bastard sword, raising it at the Gyarados.

“Victim or not, it’s hurting all these people,” she shouted, Pantene curls whipping in the wind. She looked like a storm goddess. Holding a huge sword. My throat went dry.

Then my throat went wet with water because the Gyarados splashed me in the face. This effectively brought me back to the present.

“Don’t hurt it!” I cried.

Romilda looked at me like I was crazy, but lowered her sword, reopening her coin purse to look for other useful tools. Just then, the Gyarados thrashed its tail in her direction, creating a large wave that swept her off her feet. She lost her grip on her bag and it flew off into the water, objects spilling from it.

“Romilda!” I screamed. Another wave came and engulfed me. I got pushed down, spinning around like a washing machine. Once the downward pressure relented, I emerged, spitting lake water. I looked desperately around for something that would be the perfect and easy solution to my problems.

I saw a glint in the water. I reached for the object, head dizzy. It was a yellow flute.

“Music! It’s the one answer to everything!” I realized. How could I have forgotten “The Magikarp Song”, yet another absurdly convenient song that would immediately resolve our hyper specific issue if played correctly on the right instrument (which was the yellow flute I had just found- how convenient once again!). Of course, I had never played the flute before. But when had that stopped me before? Raising the delicate glass to my lips, I began to play the tune as I recalled it from the books I had read. 

Totally unsurprisingly, I nailed the tune on the first try. I could see the angry fog in the Gyarados’s orbs clear as the music reminded it of its peaceful past as a Magikarp. Snapped out of its confusion, the thrashing and whirlpools stopped, and the water retreated to the lakes shores and stilled. Taking a deep breath in, I walked to the water’s edge, where the Gyarados remained, now subdued. Much like a Disney princess (but not at all bc I’m not a princess like other girls want to be), I reached out my hand and gently touched its scaled head. My hand passed over a small bald spot, and I let out a small gasp of surprise. Suddenly, it clicked- this Gyarados looked familiar to me because it was familiar. This had been the Magikarp that had given me its scale!

“What the hell did they do to you, buddy?” I asked softly, concern filling my orbs. This realization had reaffirmed how wrong this whole thing was- the Magikarp was nowhere near the level 20 it needed to be to evolve into a Gyarados, so how could it possibly be sitting here in front of me as a one? Not only that, but it was a totally normal-colored Magikarp, so how could it be a bright red Gyarados? There was no logical explanation.

Strange things were afoot. Gradually, the witches and wizards began to realize they were no longer being attacked, and some had begun a rescue process, conjuring floating buoys and sending them out to their flailing companions in the lake.

Despite the havoc, nobody died. It seemed unlikely, the way everybody was being thrown around by a building sized prehistoric beast, but there were only fixable injuries. Perhaps my beastly friend was resisting whatever strange powers that came over him and holding back from a truly lethal attack.

Romilda and I stayed behind and helped with the rescue effort, which went surprisingly quickly when Dumbledore came out of the castle, waved his wand in a twirly complicated motion, and all the remaining people in the water were magically summoned to the shore, wrapped in blankets and with hot chocolates in their hands.

After performing this feat of magic, Dumbledore peered down at me over his tinier pair of spectacles. He seemed to prefer this pair to his regular pair of spectacles, as they were easier to peer over.

“Y/N, I think it is time we talked,” he said, giving me a windex blue x ray stare. “Harry…. Not you” I turned in surprise to see the mysterious man himself looming behind me. Where the hell had he been for that whole battle sequence? We made brief orb contact and I shrugged, hoping to communicate the ‘well I might as well go along with this and see what I can find out’ that I was thinking. It seemed to be effective, as he rolled his orbs dramatically but stayed behind as I made my way up the steps to the doors where my uncle waited. 

“You wanted to talk?” I asked, sounding much braver and more confident than I felt (especially given that I was wearing that atrocious dress, my glasses were still off, and somehow my hair and makeup were still intact. Oh, and I had stilettos on!).

“Not here,” he replied softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “I think you’ll find that this conversation is better suited to my office, if you wouldn’t mind leading the way?” He gestured down the hall, and the torches lit, as if to say ‘come this way’. Taking a deep breath, I pretended that I was putting up my hair in a messy bun to psych myself up, and took a step down the hall, stilettos echoing off the stones as I went.

Chapter Text

So I take it you’ve stumbled upon Newt, then,” Dumbledore said softly the minute we entered his office, tone and expression inscrutable.

“Who?” I asked.

In response, Dumbledore reached to a high shelf, pressing an ugly metal instrument, and a section of the wall swung forward, revealing the portrait of a familiar windex orbed man. Oops. Dumbledore figured out I’d been snooping.

“Ah, you again!” the portrait said to me. Pretty incriminating. Busted.

I turned to Dumbledore with a guilty expression.

“Sorry for snooping. I guess I just can’t help myself. I’m not like other girls.” I apologized.

“That may be the case, but that doesn’t mean that the rules don’t apply to you. I hope you’ll reflect deeply on your actions, and perhaps we won’t have to have another conversation like this in the future.” His tone remained light, and his face inscrutable. I was relatively confident that my own expression was scrutable, and was displaying the embarrassment that I was feeling. “Nonetheless, I suppose that it would have only been so long until you met Newt, anyways. I presume you are aware of your situation, and the tasks you must complete to achieve your destiny?” He asked mildly, as though he were discussing the weather and not my extremely chaotic future.

His words struck a tiny chord inside my tiny body. I felt… regretful about my lack of consideration? This had never really happened to me before. A new feeling. I stored that away for later. I’d been experiencing a lot of revelations recently.

“Yeah, I mean I know that I’m Divergent, Chosen, Not Like Other Girls, and that I have to prove my worthiness as the successor to the Hogwarts founders to acquire some knowledge somehow tied to some ecological devastation that is tied to the First Devastation?” I said, giving a nice recap of all of the relevant plot bits of my journey thus far. Dumbledore hummed softly in agreement, and I thought I saw a hint of amusement in his normally inscrutable orbs.

“Indeed, indeed” he said gently. “And I take it our young and mysterious Potter-Styles talked to you about his, ah, conundrum?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. He thinks I’ve triggered his clairvoyancy, and wants me to help him prove that he’s worthy of whatever his parents left for him?” I said, half hoping that saying it out loud would maybe compel him to just give it to me.

Dumbledore gave me a long, searching look, then peered over his regular spectacles. I saw now how hidden behind them were a tinier pair of spectacles for more extreme peering.

“I cannot give you that. It is only for Harry, when he fully realizes his clairvoyant powers.”

“Why does he need to wait?” I asked.

“I’m honoring the instructions his parents left me. They would have had their reasons.” Dumbledore responded simply.

Normally I would have huffed impatiently at not immediately getting my way, but for some reason I didn’t feel I was owed this information immediately. Harry’s parents did die after all, so this was his journey.

“Ok, so if you can’t give me whatever Harry’s parents left for me, why did you insist we have this talk?” I asked, confused.

“A fine question indeed, Y/N. I merely wanted to let you know what while I don’t approve necessarily of your methods, that I am here as a resource as you progress on your quest for the knowledge.” 

I thanked Dumbledore and left. I had to go find Harry.

~~~

I decided to head back down to the lake, where I last left Harry. Stepping outside the castle, I saw that the area had really cleared out. There were few students left — I assumed they were enjoying after parties in their common rooms.

Professors and a few older students had their wands out, cleaning the debris from the lake. I scanned the area for Harry, but a flash of white caught my orb.

Romilda stood with her wand raised, submerged up to her knees in the lake, illuminated by a circle of enchanted ice birds who flitted around her, lighting the area. She was casting levitation spells on broken pieces of tent, setting them down in a pile on the shore.

She was enchanting a broken piece of chandelier as I approached, face serenely calm yet concentrated. The chunk of metal and crystal rose out of the water and flew gently to the pile.

I thought of my own ghastly appearance, hair still flawlessly curled and makeup intact, heels and dress somehow pristine, and shuddered. I couldn’t believe that I had let Romilda see me like this . Any hope I had that she might feel a fraction of what I felt for her snuffed out as I caught fragments of my own reflection in the broken ice littering the ground. 

“For someone who claims to not be like other girls, you sure look nice when you dress up like one.” My heart stuttered in my chest- what was she saying? There was no way- right? How could Romilda possibly genuinely like me like this , in an outfit where I felt so revoltingly like other girls, like everything I had refused to be since my mother let it slip that my father had walked out when I was born a girl, and that she herself had secretly hoped for a son, too. Not wanting to pick a fight, I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and forced cheer into my voice.

“And for someone who teases me for being quirky and not like other girls, you seem to be pretty different yourself. The way you face danger head-on, the way you’re here right now picking up someone else’s mess- you’re not like other girls either, Romilda.” I gave my best shot at a compliment, something I had never really given anyone else because up until now I had no friends because girls hated me and I wasn’t interested in boys.

“You’re wrong about that. I am like other girls- and I like that about myself. I don’t know what your deal is, Y/N, besides for the fact that you’re special and chosen. But the reality is that there are far worse things in life than being like other girls, and I’m fed up with you lauding your uniqueness like it’s a great thing when really all it shows is that you hate women. If you want to separate yourself out that’s fine, but don’t lump me in with you.” I gasped, and prepared myself to rebuke her (what the hell was she talking about? My uniqueness was a great thing), but I was cut off. It seemed Romilda had more to say, and was determined to get it all out before I could respond.

“Don’t get me wrong- I like being your friend, I like working with you, and I honestly don’t think you’re a terrible person. But I think there is something fundamentally wrong with the way you look at yourself and other girls, and I don’t want you to expect me to see things the way that you do. And, frankly, I don’t know how to forge a stronger friendship with someone who claims to hate a pretty significant portion of my identity.”

I opened my mouth to respond again. Nothing came out. My breathing went shallow. I began backing away from her. Numbly, I felt something fall off my chin. I reached up to touch my face and was surprised to find it wet with tears.

I turned tail and ran.

Chapter Text

I didn’t know where to go. Automatically, I wanted to seek refuge in the library, but I’d already read all the books in there.

I needed new things to read… or new people to talk to. For some reason my feet seemed to be taking me in an unfamiliar path. I let them.

I found myself climbing up staircases, and before I knew it, I was at the bottom of an unfolding ladder that led into the top of North Tower.

I climbed the ladder and pushed the trapdoor open. I wrinkled my nose at the heavily perfumed, warm lazy air that rushed out to greet me.

From the crystal balls all around I deduced that this was the Divination classroom. And it already seemed to have an occupant. A figure sat cross legged on a cushion on the floor with their back to me. As I drew closer, I recognized the familiar moppy curls of Harry Potter-Styles.

He sat with his orbs closed and a single candle burning in front of him. He appeared to be meditating.

With nothing better to do, I sat down opposite him and closed my orbs too. Suddenly, his orbs snapped open. His gaze was glassy and focused somewhere above my left shoulder. In an otherworldly voice that sounded like his own sexy mysterious bad boy voice in a really weird echo chamber, he began to chant:

“You’re insecure

Don’t know what for

You’re turning heads when you walk through the doo-oo-oor”

 Goosebumps erupted on my skin. I had the distinct impression that my entrance had caused Harry to start speaking, and that his words applied to me. He inhaled shakily, and continued:

“Don’t need make up 

To cover up

Being the way that you are is enou-ou-ough”

I recoiled at his words- how could this possibly be about me when I had literally put make up on for the first time in my life for this stupid fucking ball? Unwilling to hear what other inane thing he might say, I placed my hand on his firm, muscly shoulder and shook him. I was afraid that my lack of strength and petite delicate hands wouldn’t be able to rouse such a strong and sexy bad boy from his trance, and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the glassy look disappear from his sword fern deer fern bracken fern maidenhair fern orbs.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asked in a mercifully normal and husky voice. 

“I could ask you the same, you know.” I responded sassily. Before I could snark some more, though, I realized that maybe being sassy wasn’t what this situation needed. “To be honest, my feet just took me here. I don’t know why, but I was drawn to this place. To you.” I said in a tone far less filled with attitude.

“Huh. How odd and mysterious. I’ve been coming here for months, since the clairvoyant visions started, and no one’s ever run into me. Not until you, that is. You’re the only one who has found me.” Harry said slowly, clearly trying to put an explanation together in his mysterious bad boy brain. 

“I mean, it kind of makes sense. If I’m special and chosen and the reason you’re clairvoyant a few years too early, why wouldn’t I be the only one to find you?” Maybe it was just my super smart and unique and fast brain, but I was relatively certain that my appearance here was hardly the plot twist that Harry thought it was. “Also- what was that about me being insecure? What were those lyrical words? And why did your voice sound like that ?” I asked, desperate to address whatever the fuck that whole situation was.

“What lyrical words? What the hell do you mean?” Harry responded, more confused than ever. 

“Do you mean… you don’t remember saying any of that?” I asked slowly, not taking my orbs off of him.

“N-no,” his normally calm and smooth voice shook as he seemed to come to a realization. “Y/N, I think that was my first prophecy.”

My orbs widened. It was happening as Dumbledore said! Harry’s clairvoyance was getting stronger. 

“I needed to talk to you about that!” I said. “I talked to Uncle Albus and he says that your parents left you a letter that he can give you once you ‘fully realize your clairvoyant powers.’ He seemed to think I could help you with that.”

“I think you just did.” Harry’s orbs were also wide. “I just delivered my first prophecy.”

~~~

Dumbledore’s gatorade blue xray orbs peered over his tinier pair of spectacles. I’d recounted what had happened and repeated Harry’s prophecy to him. 

“His first prophecy, fascinating…” Dumbledore said inscrutably, his gaze calm and level.

“So, did we do it? Is Harry ready to receive what his parents left for him?” I asked, unable to contain the hope and excitement in my words. Harry’s salal unripe banana orbs, normally mysterious and sexy, similarly showed uncontrollable excitement. 

“Ah, unfortunately he is not. Although our young Mr. Potter-Styles has certainly delivered his first prophetic words, he is not a proven clairvoyant until the prophecy comes true. That is to say, Y/N, that until you have completed this prophecy and shown that it is in fact an accurate prediction, that I cannot give Harry what his parents left him.” Dumbledore remained unflappably calm. The same could not be said for Harry and I.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” I said, rolling my orbs. Then I remembered the subject of the prophecy, and shuddered. I didn’t want to think about how to complete a prophecy where I was ‘insecure’, wore enough makeup to ‘cover up’ my face, and where everyone thought that I was beautiful. It sounded exhausting, not to mention it sounded like the life of every other girl. Gross.

“So what, we just slap some makeup on Y/N and shove her into a room of men?” Harry asked, annoyance clear in his mysterious and sexy voice.

“Prophecies cannot be forced or rushed, as I am sure you are aware, Harry. They will simply guide you to the future that should be. I am sure that the events of this one will come to bear soon enough. For now, ta ta- it is time for my weekly tea time with Hagrid.” Dumbledore gently but forcefully pushed us towards the door. 

My first thought was to go to my haven, the library. Before Harry and I could reach those pearly gates (nice wooden doors), our vision went dark, and our bodies weightless. I was dimly aware of gruff, asshole voices saying jumbled phrases like:

“That was close. We can’t have Dumbledore knowing the truth, not when we’re so close.”

“Some quirky unconventional girl and mysterious boy won’t get in the way.”

“I’m corrupt.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I came to, we were in a drafty and mysterious room. Our hands and feet were bound. Although we were alone, the same asshole voices from before were present, muffled behind a thick wooden door. 

“So, uh, this is not super great” I said, unsure of what to do but desperate to do something . 

“Great observation. You really are smarter than other girls, aren’t you? Care to use some of those quirky smarts to get us out of here?” Harry replied with a roll of his orbs. As much as I wanted to retort, I found myself at a loss for words- none of my books had prepared me for this specific situation, and I found myself completely without a plan for the first time possibly ever.  After a few beats, Harry broke the silence.

“Got nothing, huh? Well I guess even special and chosen girls get stumped sometimes. I do have a thought, although something tells me you’re not going to like it very much” he said, his mysterious voice getting even more dark and mysterious. 

“Oh, what the hell” I said, desperate to get out of there. As much as I was special and chosen, I realized that there were some things I didn’t really want to know in life. Like what those men wanted from us, and if ‘getting in the way’ of them would lead to some sort of brutal assault. 

“Let’s give it a go, then” Harry said with a rogueish bad boy smirk. He broke through the ropes with his strong sexy bad boy forearms, and pulled a metal container out from his sexy combat boots. 

~~~~~~~~

“God, that’s vile!” I coughed, gagging on the disgusting liquid. 

“That is my enchanted pumpkin spice latte. But hey, it worked its magic.” Harry smirked coolly in his bad boy way, taking the Stanley cup from my hands and putting it back in his cool leather boots. His cactus tree vine slime green orbs scanned over my figure, taking in my transformed appearance. A pink chiffon dress hugged my body, and golden orbshadow dusted my orblids. My glasses rested safely in the depths of Harry’s cool edgy bad boy leather jacket, and were replaced by magic contacts. I looked like a princess, which sent literal chills down my spine. My heart pounded in my throat. 

“This better work, or else.” I scowled anxiously toying with my perfectly curled hair. 

“Oh, it’ll work, Y/N.” Harry said with alarming certainty.

“I feel so hideous right now- I don’t know how you expect me to catch their attention looking like this. I don’t think that I’m beautiful at all.” I turned towards the door, dreading being seen. Maybe I can just smile blandly and look at the floor and totally avoid orb contact and therefore the utter mortification I feel about looking like this. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N- you’ll be turning heads as you walk through that door”. With a final confident bad boy smirk, Harry blasted the door open. I took a deep breath, plastered the smile to my face, stared resolutely at the dusty stone floor, and took a step forward.

Chapter Text

The big group ugly men were on their feet, wands raised, staring at me as I came through the door.

“Oi! What’s going on?” the ugliest, largest man grunted.

“You’re not s’posed to be out here,” another muttered, dully.

The men surrounded me threateningly and began closing in.

“Uh, Harry?” I said out of the corner of my mouth, “I don’t think it’s working.”

“Flip your hair! It will overwhelm them,” Harry’s voice came from far behind me.

What? I never flipped my hair. Other girls flipped their hair, not me.

But then, one of the men raised his wand, pointing at me, so I thought here goes nothing.

I flipped my hair.

My hair sailed through the air in a perfect arc, landing perfectly in an extra voluminous way. I could instantly tell something magical was occurring, because my hair started feeling extra shiny, and throwing off sparkles everywhere.

“Ahh! I am so overwhelmed!” the man nearest to me cried, falling to his knees. The rest of the men seemed disoriented, but were coming out of it quickly, so I flipped my hair again, this time smiling at the ground.

The result was more sparkly than the first flip. The rest of the men fell to their knees, staring up at me with stars in their orbs.

“So bright!” one of them exclaimed.

“She lights up the world like nobody else!” another one said in wonder.

“That’s what makes her beautiful,” the biggest baddest man grunted.

The men were completely incapacitated, each of them babbling about how I’m beautiful or how I’ve got that ‘one thing.’

“Ok Harry it worked!” I called.

He emerged, looking around impressed.

“Nice job, Y/N. That worked better than I expected,” he said. “Let’s get out of here before it wears off.”

The two of us wasted no time in fleeing for the exit. As it turned out, this evil henchmen safehouse was located on the edge of a nondescript muggle village. We would need to take a bus onto two different trains before arriving at King’s cross station.

We took the bus with no problem, our first train got delayed and wouldn’t be for half an hour. Both of our stomachs were gurgling with hunger, so Harry offered to run to a store for some food while I waited at the station.

I tapped my foot, gazing around. The night was chilly, there was a single streetlamp nearby. I could see my breath coming out in little white puffy clouds. The sparkly magical shine from Harry’s potion had faded, but the clothes and makeup remained. I shivered in my pink chiffon dress.

“Out here all by yourself?”

I whirled around, thinking one of the big ugly men had followed us, but this man was not one of them. He was older, thinner, and looked like a muggle. He put a hand on the small of my back and I froze.

“It’s not safe to be out at night all alone,” he continued. His voice was scratchy.

“I’m not alone.” I found my voice and jerked away from him.

“Look at that dress,” he continued. His voice was somehow scratchy and slimy. “Any girl who wears that is asking for some attention.”

He reached for me again and I stumbled backward, trying to get away from him. I tripped and fell. I felt like a cornered animal.

“There you are! We’ve been looking all over,” a girl’s voice, unfamiliar and high pitched, rang out.

Two girls were approaching the train platform, one short and one with startling grey orbs. I had never seen either of them before. They rushed over to me, elbowed the guy out of the way and helped me up.

“Glad we found you again!” the second girl said, widening her bright grey orbs at me. I was a little confused about what they were doing, they clearly didn’t know me.

“Yeah, good thing we found you,” the first girl echoed. “We had to run out to the shop to grab a napkin after I got my period.”

The old man wrinkled his nose, backing away.

“Yeah it was wild!” the second girl said enthusiastically. “Fiona got so much blood everywhere. Crazy what happens when us girls’ uterine linings slough off.”

The old man looked repulsed and stalked off.

“Fallopian tubes!” Fiona called out after him. “Heavy flow!”

“Good riddance,” said the grey orbed girl, “Also Fiona, fallopian tubes aren’t part of your period.”

“Oh, I wasn’t sure,” Fiona responded, grinning. “It just felt right to say.”

I was baffled by them but glad the man was gone.

“You alright love?” the grey orbed girl asked me. I had to think about it.

“It’s been an evening,” I responded honestly, and to my surprise my voice caught on the last syllable. A tear slid down my face. Then another. They started collecting on my chin and dripping off.

“Oh, oh.” Fiona wrapped her arms around me. “You’re alright darling.”

This just made me sob harder for some reason. Why were these girls being so nice to me?

“Why were you talking about your period?” I blubbered, slightly hysterical. They both laughed.

“Gets rid of the creeps!” Fiona responded. “Lola came up with it ages ago.”

“I saw another girl doing it first, actually,” Lola said.

They had done it on purpose to get rid of the man?

“You… rescued me.” I realized, my crying slowing a little. “Thank you.”

“Any girl would have done the same,” Lola, the grey orbed girl smiled and patted my arm. Any… other girl? Was this true? My tears subsided as I gazed at these girls.

I wiped my face and my hand came back smudged with makeup. I probably looked like a raccoon.

“Here you are, darling,” Fiona said, taking something out of her purse. A little plastic packet of makeup wipes. I took one and wiped my face.

“Thank you,” I said again, crumpling the used makeup wipe in my hand. Lola took the pack from me and used another makeup wipe to clean up parts of my smudged makeup I missed.

“Thank––” I started to say again, but Fiona cut me off.

“You don’t need to keep thanking us! You’d do the same.” She took my hand and smiled at me.

I considered this. I’ve never talked to a female person other than my mother until I came to Hogwarts. My mother used to tell me that other girls would only ever try to tear you down. But when I thought about the girls I met –– Romilda, and now Fiona and Lola (only 3 girls, but that was still a lot for me) I thought how wrong my mother was.

“I would,” I responded quietly. I sat down on the bench, forgetting I was still holding onto Fiona’s hand, and she got pulled down to sit next to me. Lola sat on my other side, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I don’t know how long we sat like that, I was so deep in thought. I was thinking of Romilda’s last words to me, what Fiona and Lola had done for me without even knowing me. Footsteps in the distance interrupted my ruminating and Harry came into view, clutching a large packet of crisps and two deli sandwiches.

“Shop was quite far away,” he said in his deep mysterious voice. He took in the scene of two new girls on either side of me, and looked confused.

“Harry, meet Fiona and Lola,” I said in explanation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the journey to King’s cross went without as much disruption. After making sure Harry was trustworthy, Fiona and Lola bid me goodbye, telling me to look them up if I was ever in Croydon again.

I didn’t say much to Harry, and he seemed content to sit there in silence as the train car rattled on.

As we traveled, I could feel my silk chiffon dress subtly but gradually morphing into my old clothes by becoming looser fitting. The pink chiffon slowly became a pale purple plaid pattern.

At King’s Cross, a girl complimented me on my dress before boarding her train.

Once inside platform 9 ¾, we awoke a very confused looking station master, named Sir Topman Hat, who, with a small amount of coercion from Harry (who is apparently famous for something to do with his scar?) called in a conductor to take us back to school on short notice.

It was so late into the night by this point that Harry and I passed out asleep in our compartment, heads plopping down together on the table between us.

~~~~~~

I dreamt of my mother.

I was back in my old house, sitting in an armchair with three ceiling high stacks of books next to me. My mother was in the kitchen drinking gin and vodka at the same time. She snorted over at me at my piles of books.

“At least you’re not wasting your time on useless things like most girls your age.” My mother commented, taking a swig of one of her bottles.

This was the closest she came to giving me approval, when she insulted other girls and not me. This used to make me feel good, but this time I frowned.

“Mother, I don’t think most girls are doing useless things,” I said. She raised an orbbrow at me.

“Is that so? You think that spending hours primping in front of mirrors, talking only about boys, and experiencing any sort of femininity as it is traditionally presented isn’t useless garbage?” She raised a bushy and purposefully unmaintained orbbrow. 

“Is that what you think girls do?” I retorted. Although the me from even a few weeks ago would have blindly agreed, the me from the present couldn’t stop myself from wondering if what she had told me my entire life was accurate. “Girls can enjoy makeup, and plenty are attracted to men. But I don’t think that’s bad, and I also think that girls are more multifaceted than that. Probably.”

My mother lowered her face to mine. She opened her mouth to say something but I cut her off.

“I think… I would be ok being like other girls.” I flinched at my own admission.

My mother’s face froze in a shocked expression. I waited for her to respond but then realized she had stopped moving.

Suddenly, my mother exploded into a white wispy vapor that floated upwards. Then my piles of books and all the furniture in the room did the same. All the pieces of the room were transforming into white clouds that swirled into the air. Soon I was left standing all alone in my old home, stripped bare of any recognizable features. Then, the walls of the house started lifting up around me, dissolving into more pale white swirls.

I was now standing in a field, with nothing but grass in view for miles.

“Y/N.” a voice came from behind me. A sexy, mysterious bad boy voice. I whirled around, knowing who it was before I saw him.

“What are you doing in my dream?” I asked Harry.

“I came to witness you fulfilling my prophecy,” Harry responded.

“Whaaaaat? How did I fulfill it?” I was shocked.

“You realized that being the way that you are is enough- you can be like other girls,” he said simply.

I was insecure. I didn’t know what for, but now I understood.

Chapter Text

I awoke with a jolt, to the gentle poking of the train conductor, Zach Galifianakis (no relation to the famous American actor).

“This stop’s yours, miss” Stifling my yawn, I nodded my thanks to Mr. Galifianakis. I turned to gently prod Harry awake, only to make direct orb contact with those seaweed orbs. Flinching at the proximity, I backed away and stood up. Harry and I stumbled off the train and into the thestral-led carriages (I could see them even though I hadn’t seen death because I’m so quirky and my orbs aren’t like anyone else’s orbs). Before we could begin what was sure to be a wildly awkward ‘goodnight/goodmorning/well, that was wild’, a soft flutter of fabric brushed my nose. Uncle Albus had appeared in front of us, with that classically inscrutable expression on his face. Seriously, who knew what that guy was thinking? Wordlessly, Harry and I followed him down the hall, towards his office.

“Well, I suppose some congratulations are in order,” Uncle Albus said mildly, taking a seat at his desk. “You have successfully delivered your first prophecy. It’s completion reflects your ability as a clairvoyant, and your shared dream with Y/N marks another important clairvoyance milestone” Neither Harry nor I had the mind nor energy to ask how the hell he knew any of this, much less why he had to bother us about it the second we had returned from our extremely eventful night. At least, not enough to say any more than the eloquent:

“So?” In response, Uncle Albus chuckled slightly.

“After all that questioning before, I had rather hoped for a more excited response to this.” From the depths of one of his desk drawers, he produced a think envelope, with the address

To: Our beloved son, Harry Potter-Styles

When the time is right, and his Vision is clear

Beside me, I heard Harry take in a sharp breath. I felt my heart jump into my throat. Excitement and fear raged in equal parts in my brain. I could hardly imagine how Harry must feel, given that he had been waiting to read the contents of this letter for years. With a slightly trembling hand, Harry reached out and grabbed the letter. He nervously thumbed the top flap, orbing the verdant bok choy basil spinach wax seal that stood as the final barrier between him and the contents of the letter. 

“Do I… do you need to be here for this?” He asked in his mysterious bad boy voice. I had never heard such trepidation and uncertainty in his normally suave yet husky voice. 

“Ah, no,” Uncle Albus smiled gently. “While your parents did entrust this letter to me for safekeeping, they in no way indicated that I need to be present while you opened it, or even that I need to know what its contents say. That letter is yours and yours alone to do with whatever you may please.” He stood up from his desk, closing the drawer and locking it with a click . “And now, if you don’t mind- it is either rather late or rather early, and I should like to be back in bed regardless.” With that parting note, he retreated to his private chambers. 

“Should we-” I quickly reeled my question in, recognizing that as much as I was invested in this whole letter ordeal, that ultimately maybe it was none of my beeswax. Before I could apologize for my interference on this presumably intimate and personal moment, Harry had torn the envelope open and spread the pages within on Dumbledore’s desk. Unable to tear my orbs away(I mean letters are basically deconstructed books- can you blame me??), I began reading over his shoulder. The contents of the letter read as follows:

“Our dearest son, 

If you are reading this, it means that we are dead. RIP us. Big L. Pour one out for us. We got got by the baddies :(. 

Of course, you must be wondering why we left you this letter- what information was both so critical that we had to write it down, but so sensitive that you could not read it until your Vision was clear. Also, perhaps, why we died. We will try to keep it brief- it is about the First Devastation. Womp womp. 

The reason we are not there to tell you this in person is because those responsible for the First Devastation realized that we had uncovered their actions, were trying to stop them, and were in the process of exposing their crimes to the world. There were targets on our backs, and unfortunately, they hit their mark. It was never our intention to leave you, but we couldn’t leave the world to die, either. I am sorry, my love. 

We cannot disclose the entirety of the First Devastation to you in this letter- indeed we cannot tell you who started it, what caused it, or why it was resolved. The information is too valuable and dangerous, and would put both Dumbledore, our closest confidant, and indeed all of Hogwarts under great peril. However, we can tell you that we and our colleagues wrote down all that we could about the cause of the First Devastation, as well as all of our theories behind how to stop it, in a great tome. It is imperative that you find this tome, my dearest, so that the Second Devastation does not wreak havoc on the world as we know it. It was our final prophecy that told us that you would be key to stopping this destruction- but also that you had to have your Vision, and that you could not begin down this track to save the world until your clairvoyancy was proven. It was also imperative that you meet Y/N, the true hero of this story, the Chosen One, of your own accord. We could not lead you to her. I assume, if you are reading this, that you have met her. Perhaps she will even be reading this right now, over your shoulder. Either way, the message we have to deliver is this: 

Please take a long hard look through your textbook

‘Cause I’m history

And by that, we mean:

Please find the tome that contains all of our knowledge of the First Devastation and use it to prevent the Second

‘Cause we’re both dead and can’t do it ourselves

Peace out, 

Your parents”

“Woah.” I staggered back a little, my quirky, chosen brain reeled with the onslaught of information. Instead of answering any of the questions I had (what caused and/or ended the First Devastation,etc.), I suddenly had several new and incredibly pressing ones, like:

• Who was behind the First Devastation? 
• Where the hell was this tome?
• Who were Harry’s parents, really?
• How dangerous was this knowledge?
• Why did Harry’s parents write like that? (no judgement, but like)
• Were Harry and I supposed to stop this Second Devastation?

And also

• Were Harry and I about to have targets on our backs?

Well, and also

• Could we finally go to bed????

“Yeah,” Harry replied huskily, his mysterious bad boy voice laden with several emotions. 

“I, uh, we should probably talk about this. But to be honest, I think I need to go to bed.” My brain, usually full of thoughts and knowledge (like the books that used to be my only friends), felt empty and full of tumbleweeds. 

“I see your ability to share great ideas has returned, Y/N,” Harry replied, the heaviness in his voice replaced with warmth and teasing. I rolled my orbs, but couldn’t fight the tired smile on my face. 

“Well, I am still the Chosen One. I’ve gotta have a good idea every now and again, I suppose.” 

“Hmm,” Harry hummed in agreement, and stretched his sexy bad boy tattooed arms (they weren’t as sexy as Romilda’s tattooed arms, just FYI. In case you were wondering.). “I need some time to think. We’ll talk about this later.” He said mysteriously, turning on his heel and exiting the office. Even after all this time and crazy adventuring together, in many ways he was still so so mysterious to me. What a bad boy. As much as my brain wanted to ruminate on the new information, and my heart wanted to rush off to a library to try to track down knowledge to try to answer the new questions the letter had brought up, my orblids closed the second I hit my bed, and I immediately fell into a (mercifully dreamless) sleep.

Chapter Text

I awoke with a start to the unhappy screeching of a bird. Fuck, Fawkes. Forcing my orblids open, I rolled out of bed. After the usual cleaning and feeding, I shuffled back to bed- only to realize that my brain, as active and inquisitive and quirky and knowledgeable as always, had started spinning in 420 directions now that I had rested enough to process what had happened last night. 

Realizing that sleep was now out of the question, I decided to let myself wander, and see where I ended up. Of course, this tactic had gotten me into trouble recently. However, I felt the need to walk around and ruminate following the events of last night, and could only walk laps around the library so many times (don’t get me wrong- the library was still my forever home. I just felt like there were better places to walk given that I had already read everything in there). 

Although by all means I probably should have spent more time reflecting on my personal epiphany about being like other girls, or maybe on the contents of the letter Harry and I had read last night, my brain refused to cooperate. Instead, it returned to a topic it had liked to dwell on a lot recently- Romilda. Today, my brain decided to have a small war over whether or not we wanted to see her. As much as my heart yearned to see Romilda, to apologize for what I had said and also to update her on everything that had happened with Harry, I was also terrified. What if she (justifiably) didn’t want to see me? We hadn’t ended on an awful note, but the more I replayed our last conversation in my mind, the more I spiraled and convinced myself that any kindness she had afforded me was just a polite gesture. 

Somehow both fortunately and unfortunately, the world took matters into its own hands. Before I could hem and haw any more about tracking down Romilda myself, I heard what my brain immediately registered as her voice. I could almost convince myself that I could smell the chocolate chip cookie aroma that surrounded her. I could just barely make out the words she was saying, which seemed to come from somewhere around the corner and down some stairs. Instinctively, upon hearing her voice, my feet took me towards her. 

“Look, Karovsky, I’m flattered and all but I’m just not interested” I heard the strain in Romilda’s voice and inched closer, until I could see them at the bottom of the stairs- Romilda, her back and luscious locks to me, surrounded by a group of oafish men.  The largest one, who was at the front, opened his mouth and sneered. 

“God, you’re such a bitch. I thought you were different and cool, but it turns out you’re just like all the other girls at this dumb school.” He said, malice in his voice. I could almost hear Romilda rolling her orbs from my vantage point, but also saw her flinch and cower as Karofsky crept closer to her. His cronies followed, boxing her against the wall. My stomach went sour as my instincts told me that Karofsky was not about to stop his harassment at a few choice words. Before I could think about what I was doing, I blurted out:

“What, like it’s such a bad thing to be like other girls? I can think of a few worse things, to be honest- and one of them is being anything like you ” I snarked, hoping my façade of confidence hid the quaver in my voice. Romilda turned, her pinecone root wad acorn orbs widening as she both processed my words and registered that it was me saying them. I could hardly blame her for her shock- I was still reeling from my transformation myself. 

“Why, you little-“ Karofsky and his posse lunged up the stairs towards me, vitriol and anger in their orbs. I flipped through my mental library, deciding what defense tactic I had read about to apply to this situation, when my vision went dark, and my nostrils filled with the scent of old fabric. 

We meet again, Y/N , the reedy voice filled my brain. With a small gasp, I tore what I now recognized to be the Sorting Hat off of my head. 

“What the-“ my confused proclamation was cut short by a sharp flash of light, followed by a loud CLANG . A beautiful silver sword, hilt inset with gleaming rubies, had been flung from the depths of the hat as I had pulled it off my head. It was the sword of Godric Gryffindor. I paused for a beat, my brain registering what had just happened. “Hm, so, uh, not to sound wildly ungrateful or anything, but how is a sword supposed to help me in this situation?” I asked, turning my gaze to the hat lying on the ground. 

“The sword of Godric Gryffindor merely presents itself to a worthy successor at a time in need- it does not give instructions on how to resolve the time in need”, the Hat replied with a sneer in its voice. I wondered absentmindedly if throwing it off of my head was perhaps not the move. Shaking off the fear that I had angered something that we really wanted as our ally, I made my way towards the gleaming sword and picked it up. Of course, it should be no surprise that my hand naturally gripped the hilt in the exact perfect way even though I had literally never touched a sword before. I gave a few test slashes in the air, marveling at how effortlessly I could wield this beautiful heirloom (sure, I may have mastered something extremely complex in a nanosecond more than a few times, but it was a feeling that didn’t get old). Feeling bolder than ever (or was that more brave? Thanks @Gryffindor), despite not knowing how the hell to really use the sword in this situation, I turned to face Karofsky again.

“I’m going to repeat what I said- and I’m going to hope that you listen to it, internalize it, and then go the fuck away, because this time I’ve got a sword. And also the backing of one of the Hogwarts founders” I said, the confidence no longer a façade and with no hidden quavers in my voice. The men looked at me, then at each other, then back at me. Then they shrugged, as though my presence had simply made this conquest too much work for them, and clomped away. 

I suppressed the urge to run after them and put my new swordfighting skills (which I just knew that I had because of course I did) to the test. Instead, I faced something far more terrifying than some men I was relatively confident I could thrash- my feelings (or, more specifically, my crush who may or may not have been very mad at me and was now probably very confused about my wild personality transformation). Hoping that the backing of Gryffindor would make this interaction easier, too, I steeled myself and started walking down the stairs. 

———

“So, uh, guess we finally got that sword, didn’t we?” I said, forced humor in my voice. It appeared that my new emotional maturity to recognize my internalized misogyny ended there and did not extend to, say, acknowledging difficult feelings and/or conversations. Whelp. I waited with bated breath for Romilda’s response, and, when she gave none, moved my orbline from just to the left of her shoulder to her face. We locked orbs, and I saw a tempest of emotions in those Sue-Meg SP bear box orbs. My words caught and promptly died in my throat. My big, unique brain went into panic mode and once again tried to search my mental library for any knowledge on what the hell to do here. I knew almost immediately that there was no use, though. What book could possibly know what I should say to make things right again? Granted, I wasn’t sure what exactly was wrong. I just knew that something was. People didn’t look at other people with orbs like that when everything was alright. She was waiting for me to start talking. Oh, what the hell , I thought, and decided to try my best at an apology.

“Sorry for not asking if you wanted help,” I said. “I’m realizing that with your mad fighting skills you could have laid them all out in about 20 seconds.”

“I’m still glad you had my back,” she said, her face unreadable.

“And… I was wrong.” I said.

She raised an orbbrow.

“I shouldn’t have been talking or thinking about other girls like I was. Maybe it was because I hadn’t actually met or talked to another girl until I met you. Then the things you said to me at the ball and something that happened last night really shook me and made me question everything I was told about other girls. I realized it might actually be okay to be like other girls.” I finished, and realized I hadn’t breathed the entire time. I started gulping breaths to regain some oxygen. Suddenly I felt Romilda’s arms encircle me in a hug.

“I think I have a lot to learn about you,” she responded, releasing me and giving me a little sideways smile. “I’m happy you’re starting to think a little better of your fellow girls.”

She still wants to learn about me? So she wanted to be friends again? The hopeful look on my face must have been plain to see because Romilda laughed and threw an arm around me, steering us down the corridor.

“We’ve got some catching up to do,” Romilda announced, and I knew we would be okay.

———

A few hours later Romilda and I completed our fifth loop around the lake. Snow crunched under our feet as we walked. All trace of the Yule Ball and the gyrados attack had been magically taken care of, and the lake was back to its normal pristine state.

I told her every detail of my and Harry’s kidnapping, the train station, the dream, and the letter. She asked a lot of questions about my childhood, and for some reason my answers made her frown at me with a weird expression in her orbs. But when I asked her what was wrong, she told me it was nothing.

Finally we got around to the sword, which I was wearing at my belt. It made me feel cool, like an adventurous hero.

“Let’s bring this over to Mr. Crabby Scamander and see what he has to say, huh?” Romilda said.

Chapter Text

Romilda and I went into Dumbledore’s office together. Dumbledore conveniently wasn’t around, so we had no obstacles at all.

Romilda reached up to tip the weird knobbly metal instrument, and her wizard robe sleeve slid down her arm, exposing her tattooed forearms. Sigh. So dreamy.

My orbs followed the exposed skin as she brought her arm back down and I caught a flash of red color right near her elbow. I averted my orbs and pretended I wasn’t looking before she turned around.

The wall section swung open to reveal our contrary friend, the windex orbed Newt Scamander.

“Well well well! Look who’s come back with the beginnings of some great character development and with that nice sharp sword of Gryffindor.” the ocean orbed man said sassily.

“What?” I responded.

“Never you mind.” Newt waived an airy hand. “I suppose you’ve come to see about the progress you’ve made proving yourself worthy of the Hogwarts founders.”

“She clearly has the sword,” Romilda pointed at it. “So… one down three to go?”

“Don’t steal my thunder!” Newt shushed Romilda. He gestured for her to step back and she did, looking bemused.

“Well my dear. You have earned the sword of Gryffindor. This proves you are a worthy successor of Godric Gryffindor. Yet, you must still attain proof of your worthiness to succeed the other three Hogwarts founders.” Newt said, spreading his short arms grandly.

I glanced at Romilda, since this was exactly what she said. She stood patiently with her arms crossed, and gave me a little smirk. She motioned for me to turn my attention back to Newt.

“You have faced your worst fear and challenged a belief you held your whole life.” Newt said. “And what’s more, you selflessly defended a friend in need when the outcome of that fight would have not gone in your favor if it was just you against them.”

I frowned.

“I mean, I’m sure I could have taken them with the sword.” I countered.

“Nope!” Newt kept going. “If you had engaged in that fight, even you and a sword against any one of those boys, you would have lost, easily and pathetically.”

Romilda snorted.

“Due to your small stature and general lack of physical strength, there is no way––” Newt continued, but I cut him off.

“How do you even know that? Are you a clairvoyant?” I asked.

“Heavens, no!” Newt said, looking confused. “I just talked to some other portraits in the hallway about the altercation and they described the boys as somewhat average in build so I took it from there.”

I could hear Romilda attempting to smother her laughter behind me but I didn’t turn around.

“Is that all, Mr. Scamander?” I asked, impatient to stop getting insulted by a tiny man in a portrait.

“Yes, yes, off you go. Return when you have proof of more progress!” he shooed me away and I jumped up to tip the ugly silver instrument to close the wall again.

As soon as the wall closed, I spun around on Romilda, glaring at her.

“General lack of physical strength––” she began, laughing even harder and I smacked her in the arm and pushed her away. 

“Shut up!”

“Easily and pathetically,” Romilda continued, dodging to the side as I tried to shove her in protest.

“Get out!” I pointed at the door.

“Oh come on, Y/N,” she grinned at me, catching one and then both of my arms amidst my continued shoves.

I attempted to wiggle free but she was a lot stronger than me. Suddenly, I felt the cool stone of the wall behind my back, and my mind went blank (classic) as one of Romilda’s sexy, tattooed arms planted itself at my hip, and the other (still holding my arms) planted itself right above my head. I would love to say that I didn’t have a tiny gay meltdown right then and there in my uncle’s office, but that just wouldn’t be true. I felt my face burn as I tried to think of anything, literally anything, to do or say next. My orbs darted around from Romilda’s face to her arms to the really interesting spot just above her shoulder. Her cinnamon roll bakery pain au chocolat  scent filled my nostrils. “Y/N…” her voice had a softer, gentler quality this time. Her robe sleeves were ridden up. I felt my orbs travel up her tattooed arms, catching on the flash of red I saw before (was that a flower bud?), and lock onto hers. There was something in her wood-panel orbs that made my heart stutter and my breath leave as a gasp. 

“Y-yes?” My voice was breathless, and with an undoubtable quaver.

The door creaked open, making both of us jump.

“Y/N, we need to talk- oh, uh, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” A familiar mysterious voice with an undeniable hint of amusement snapped me out of my Romilda-induced trance. I tried and failed to keep a scowl off my face as I turned my gaze to meet the lime rosemary thyme oregano italian herb seasoning orbs of Harry Potter-Styles. 

“Nope, nope, not at all” Romilda said in a voice that was much more calm and measured than I was feeling. I tried not to look disappointed at her words. I felt the grip on my wrists loosen, and pulled myself free (with more reluctance than I’d like to admit, I will be honest). 

“Is it about the letter?” As much as I was annoyed with Harry for interrupting a moment that was literally out of one of my dreams, I knew that he was right. We did need to talk. 

“Hmph” He grunted in response, concern and mistrust in his orbs, which were trained on Romilda. It occurred to me that while I had filled Romilda in on everything that had happened with Harry, that I had never given Harry the full story of Romilda and I’s original goal. Hell, I was pretty sure that I hadn’t even told Harry that I already knew quite a bit about the First Devastation, even though it was featured heavily in his parents’ letter. 

“Anything you can say to me, you can say to her.” I said quickly. I was not about to make any more mistakes that would lead to Romilda thinking that I didn’t want her by my side. Harry arched an orbbrow in response, clearly wanting a better explanation than that. Which, fair. “She and I are working on a quest together- one that will grant us important knowledge once I prove that I am a worthy successor to all four of the Hogwarts founders. And part of that knowledge is tied to the First Devastation. I probably should have told you sooner, but what with your prophecy and the kidnapping and the letter we never really got around to it.”

At this, Harry’s Nickelodeon slime orbs widened in surprise. He looked over at Romilda, as if reappraising her in light of my new information. 

“I wouldn’t have made it as far as I have without her help. If you want to keep working with me, you’re working with her. We’re a package deal.” I said, a flush creeping up my neck as my brain unhelpfully cut to scenes of us being partners in crime, kissing then driving off a cliff like Thelma and Louise. My orbs couldn’t stop themselves from wandering over at Romilda, who looked mildly surprised but pleased at how much I was vouching for her. Her face looked slightly flushed, although I was pretty sure that it was just the way the light was hitting Fawkes that added a rosy tint to her cheeks.

“Fair enough. From everything I know about you, you’re a respectable fighter. What with how petite and delicate and tiny Y/N is, we could definitely use more muscle on the team. Something tells me that the kidnapping was the beginning of our interactions with those unsavory baboons, not the end.” Harry conceded, before raising a tattooed forearm out towards Romilda. She extended a similarly tattooed but much sexier forearm and shook his hand. And just like that, we became a team of three. 

“So, what did you want to talk about?” I turned to Harry with a grin. Maybe it was clearing the air with Romilda, the backing of Gryffindor, or my own personal growth (or maybe all of those combined), but I was feeling more inspired than ever to complete our quest to get the knowledge.

Chapter Text

“I think we need to find the tome.” Harry said so darkly and mysteriously (even for him) that it would have given me chills were it not the only clearly obvious next step to take. 

“Uh, duh?” Romilda added, giving voice to the thoughts I, too, was having. Harry did not seem to appreciate this, rolling his kelp orbs a little.  

“Ok, so we’re all in agreement.” I said, hoping to actually get somewhere productive during this conversation. “The tome will help us understand more about your parents and the First Devastation, which will help with this whole quest for knowledge. The thing is- how the hell do we start looking for this tome? I mean, I’ve read literally every book in the library. And all of the books in the professors’ secret libraries. If there was a book like this in there, or even a book like this referenced in there, I’d know.” Romilda and Harry both arched orbbrows at me. “What? It’s not as if they were particularly hard to find. And books are my kryptonite! I can practically smell them from a mile away. I couldn’t not read them.”

“Anything even remotely useful in there? Have you read all of Dumbledore’s books?” Harry’s husky and mysterious voice cut in, a hint of excitement present. 

“Anything crazy in there? Ooh, does anyone have a secret diary?” Romilda asked at the same time, a mischievous glint in her orbs.

“Nothing particularly useful that we don’t already know, although Dumbledore is the one person whose library I haven’t read. I don’t even know where he keeps his private library, although I know that he has one. I’ve read everything we can see in the room now, not that any of it will be useful to us.” My Uncle Albus is extremely accomplished and very capable of hiding a library better than most other witches and wizards at Hogwarts. I also felt significantly worse about hard-core snooping around in his stuff than anyone else’s, so I hadn’t been quite as invasive as I maybe would have been otherwise. There was something about him being my uncle, and also something about him having taken me in with such kindness when my own mother had thrown me out. Plus, I was pretty certain that he would know right away if I had snooped, and I didn’t really want to get another ‘I’m disappointed in you’ talk. 

Romilda kept her orbbrow arched, clearly hoping to get an answer to her questions. I rolled my orbs a little, but caved. “Yes, McGonagall and Snape both have diaries. Also Hagrid. There are some… personal details in there. I don’t really think you want to know them, though. I mean- do you really want to know about Snape’s super gross crush, or Hagrid’s dating life?” Romilda laughed in surprise, and then pondered my question.

“Objectively, yes. Although we all know that McGonagall’s gotta have the most interesting diary by far. But I guess in the interest of the mission I’ll pick your brain on that later. For now, I think we should probably focus on the tome.” 

“Agreed. I don’t love it, but if Dumbledore’s the only person whose library you haven’t completely read, I think that’s where we need to start. Also, he does seem like the most likely person to have some secret book that has some amount of relevant answers.” Harry crossed his bad boy tattooed forearms and shrugged, as if he were suggesting the simplest thing in the world and not breaking into a library so secret that even my Chosen, special, library-focused brain had no clue where it was. I knew he was right, though. And while I still felt guilty about the concept of prying into my uncle’s life, I was a little reassured that all three of us would have to face the dreaded ‘I’m not angry, just disappointed’ talk we for sure would be having once my uncle caught onto our scheme. 

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right. I just don’t even know where to start, though. Do we follow him and wait to see if he goes into his secret library? Or do we question people around him, try to wheedle the info out of a confidante?” I tossed a few ideas around. None of them seemed quite right, though. Before I could try to generate another mid idea, an eerie, echoey voice filled the room. 

“Circles, we're going in circles, dizzy's all it makes us

We know where it takes us, we've been before

Closer, maybe looking closer, there's more to discover

Find out what went wrong without blamin' each other

Think that we got more time

When we're falling behind

Gotta make up our minds”

Harry’s orbs seemed to roll back into his head as he delivered what I now recognized as a prophecy. Romilda’s orbs, on the other hand, were filled with something between shock and horror.

“What the hell was that?” She whispered to me.

“That was a prophecy.” I muttered back in response, unsure of whether to be grateful for what could be a hint to the next step, or annoyed at the confusing lyrical words that seemed to spell out strife in our future.

“Why are you both looking at me like that?” Harry asked, his voice back to normal.

“You just went all weird and told us we’re going in circles!” Romilda responded, still looking unsettled.

“Your second prophecy,” I elaborated, when Harry looked confused. I repeated his words back to him, since I memorized his prophecy perfectly into my big wet spongey brain.

“That doesn’t sound so good.” Harry said darkly and mysteriously, pondering the words he had just spoken. I fought the urge to say something along the lines of “yeah, I agree- why the hell did you have to have prophesied that?”. I didn’t know much about prophecies or clairvoyance, but I was pretty sure that Harry had about as much say as the rest of us in whatever oddly lyrical words he spoke in that awful echoey voice. 

“Agreed. There are lots of things I didn’t love about it- the circles, the fighting, and the running out of time, to name a few.” I sighed, resting my forehead in my hands. 

“So- what now? What does this mean for our plan?” Romilda asked, a nervous edge to her voice. Harry and I made orb contact, and some unspoken understanding passed between us. 

“We proceed as normal. To be honest, I don't know what the prophecy is referring to in the slightest. And while I appreciate that prophecies can help heroes by giving them clues about what their future holds, I don’t know how much good sitting here and scratching our heads will do. I say we go with our original plan, but keep the prophecy in the back of our minds.” I took a deep breath, hoping that the plan I had put forth was a good one. As much as Harry’s newest prophecy unnerved me, I didn’t want to spend hours in this office debating what it meant. Based on our past experience, the prophecy would resolve itself on its own timeline, and it didn’t make much sense to try to meddle with that. The best we could do was to continue on our mission, keeping the prophecy in mind as an idea of what may come to pass. 

“I agree. These prophecies are as mysterious as I am-or just about as mysterious-and I don’t think it’s worth our time to discuss this one for hours. If nothing else, this prophecy tells us that we don’t have as much time as we think we do. The best we can do right now is to remember that and not waste any time trying to find this tome.” Harry replied, his green apple absinthe orbs full of determination. 

“All right. I suppose you are the expert here, so I’ll take your word for it. So- how are we going to break into Dumbledore’s office?” Romilda had her hot cocoa orbs trained on Harry. A pang of annoyance flashed through me, my brain throwing a minor tantrum at her showing anyone who wasn’t me any amount of attention. Keep it together girl, please!!! I thought exasperatedly at myself. It appeared that acknowledging my own emotions didn’t necessarily make having feelings easier. Who’d have thunk?

“What about that?” The words left my mouth before I had fully processed them, and my hand followed soon after, pointing at the silver basin that had vaguely hinted at Harry’s clairvoyance so long ago- the Pensieve. 

I cringed a little as soon as the words had left my mouth. Not because it was a bad idea (I scarcely have those because I’m so smart and talented), but because it was about as invasive as you could get, and I still felt pretty weird about snooping around in my uncle’s life like that. Alas, the plot calls. And it was pretty much the only idea I had that was likely to yield any sort of results.

Romilda was already moving toward it, not ashamed to be snooping.

“Wait no,” I said. Romilda turned back and saw my hesitancy.

“Come on, Y/N this is important,” she rolled her orbs and proceeded anyway. She popped open the closet and rummaged through the vials of Dumbledore’s memories. “Check it out! This says “Super Duper Secret Memory Regarding the Highly Classified Hidden Tome!”

“We should at least ask him,” I implored, but Romilda popped the cork and poured the memory into the Pensieve.

“Don’t be a weenie,” she gave me a little push towards the basin.

Harry snorted.

I leaned my head down and fell into Dumbledore’s memory.