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Chapter Text

Rochelle hums as she mindlessly taps her pencil against her lips, looking down at her notebook, perturbed. She glances back at the computer screen in front of her and reads more of the Harry Potter spells wiki she has pulled up. This damned most recent hyperfixation of hers is causing her to do more research than she ever did on college homework. 

Recently, she has been obsessed with learning, documenting, expanding, and creating spells within the Harry Potter universe. She has read countless fanfiction and documented the spells created in those stories in her notebook, alongside the canon spells. She was now working out the logistics of new spells and figuring out what the incantation would be, having tried various combinations of translations from the most common languages Harry Potter incantations primarily use.

An alarm went off, and she looked down at her phone, noticing the note attached to the alarm that read “Work in 1 hour. Eat something,” as she often forgets to eat before work if she is this engrossed in her fixations. So she breathed a disappointed sigh before complying with the request. She packed up her laptop in her school bag and grabbed her notebook, maintaining it in her hand, before heading out of her college's student center.

Rochelle is a 23-year-old arts student living in northeastern America. She’s an average sort of pretty with soft facial features. Her long hair was her main defining feature, long down to her hips, and had a gradient of her natural brown hair at the roots to a bright red at the very ends. Her hazel brown eyes are rendered dark against her pale white skin. She is just your everyday nerdy college student whose current nerdy obsession is, yet again, Harry Potter.

Every couple of years or so, this hyperfixation reappears in her thoughts in a different form from its previous incarnation. This time, it's the intricacies of the stories' spells. Identifying light versus dark magic, the importance of which languages the incantations are derived from, and the restrictions in place to give this fantasy system some realistic semblance to it that allows one to truly imagine themselves within that world. It is this that Rochelle is yet again thinking of as she haphazardly begins crossing the street outside her school, notebook tightly in hand as she practically skips into the street right in front of an oncoming truck.

Pain. Dizziness. Red. Throbbing. Voices screaming around her. Sirens.

What’s going on? She needs to feel something, to move. She can feel the pavement beneath her, but it takes every last spark of energy within her simply to close her hand tightly around the only other thing she can feel: her spell-filled hyperfixation notebook.

Then, silence. A wave of calm hits Rochelle as her only thoughts are, “Oh, guess I’ll never get to explore more spells,” while she quickly drifts into blissful unconsciousness.

Chatter.

That's all she can hear as she slowly opens her eyes to a bright blue sky and some strange-looking buildings. The chatter of people on the street near her. But unlike her expectation of lying on the street bleeding out, she happens to be… standing? Is she looking up at the sky, standing? Just a second ago, she was… was she? There was the truck, then the red, and the pain. She had to have died getting hit by a truck, right?

Rochelle evened her gaze and spun her head around, taking in her surroundings with an overwhelming knowledge of an unknown source. A voice dancing in her head beside her own. Diagon Alley. My vault in Gringotts has more money than I could ever spend. I need to buy my school supplies.

What. The. Fuck, was going on.

Her mind was still clouded with the same fog as after she was hit. Was she dreaming? She had to be, right? Wait, why can't she control her body?

Her head was forced down by what felt like an invisible thread, her eyes scanning over the Hogwarts acceptance letter and supply list that were grasped in her hands. Her notebook was placed beneath them in her grasp. Her legs began to walk in the direction of Gringotts. 

Hogwarts? Gringotts? What was happening? My head said I have a vault. Why can’t I control my legs? Is that my notebook? Why is it here?

Her body kept walking the cobbled street of Diagon Alley. The hustle and bustle seemed normal. Normal, my ass! What am I doing? Hang on, didn't I die? Where's the truck? Aren't I hurt? I don't feel pain. I don't feel anything. I can't feel my body. Am I in a body? 

She walked into the crooked-shaped building and went right up to one of the goblins, asking for access to her vault. Goblin? Wait, that's right, this is the Harry Potter universe. I'm in a fictional universe asking a fictional creature for a fictional currency from a fictional vault in a fictional bank. After giving her name and verifying her identity with a few drops of blood on a parchment, she was led down to her vault. I'm on a roller coaster? That's what it looks like. I can't feel it. That's right, doesn't Gringotts have a track to the vaults? 

The scenery around her seemed to float by. She couldn’t seem to focus on the details around her. However, she was able to see a vault door in front of her, and the goblin helping her produced a key from his pocket, and he promptly opened the door to an ungodly amount of money. Woah. This is mine? When my mind told me “my vault has more money than I could ever spend,” it wasn't kidding. Am I richer than Harry? Rochelle grabbed a pouch from a table that was just inside, to the left of the vault door. How did I know it was there? She then began to practically shovel the money into the small pouch, which didn't seem to get filled. 

Extension charm? Like Hermione’s bag in Deathly Hallows? Why is that just sitting in my vault? What is all of this? Once the control over Rochelle seemed to be satisfied with the enormous amount of galleons in her coin pouch, she turned and thanked the goblin, who gave her a strange look before bringing her back to the main hall of the wizarding bank. Once outside the building, Rochelle took off her black backpack and placed her notebook and letter into it. A backpack? What's a muggle item like that doing in the wizard world? Is this the wizarding world? Does that make me a witch? Didn't I die, though?

Inside her backpack were now the notebook, Hogwarts acceptance letter, and a pencil case with a black pen, a pencil, an eraser, and a pencil sharpener. After closing it up and putting it back on her back, with her coin pouch in one hand and supply list in the other, Rochelle began making her way to Madam Malkin’s. Why do I have Muggle things? Why do I know where to buy my uniform? How do I know Madam Malkin’s is where I buy my uniform? I didn't study the shops in this universe, just the spells. Why do I remember a detail like that? It didn't take long to get to the clothing shop. 

Once there, she walked right up to the desk and asked for assistance in getting her school robes, hat, gloves, and cloak. Getting fitted for the robes didn't take long, and soon Rochelle walked out of Madam Malkin’s with a bag of her three sets of robes, pointed hat, dragon hide gloves, and black winter cloak. Did I actually just buy something made of dragon? Holy shit, dragons exist! I'm in a fantasy world, but am I really? I can't feel a thing. This has to be a dream. How do I get home? How do I wake up?

Apparently, it was textbooks next, because Rochelle walked into Flourish & Blotts and yet again, walked right up to the desk and asked the person there to help her find her school textbooks. Why are there so many textbooks? Eight textbooks for first year is rough. Am I a first-year student? I was just in college, and I had fewer textbooks than this. Is this my life? Am I alive? But I died. The woman who helped Rochelle was kind enough to give her a ‘trolley’ as she called it, but it was a cart to put her things in. They placed her stack of books in the cart as well as her bag holding her uniform and her backpack. The trolley wasn't a full-sized one and was rather beat up, so the kind woman told her to keep it. Who just gives someone something like this? This is a lot. Why am I shopping? Why can't I stop myself? I need to sit down. I need to scream.

Rochelle’s body seemed completely impervious to the anguish in her mind as she happily pushed her cart out of Flourish & Blotts and right into the next shop: Eeylops Owl Emporium. Am I going to buy an owl? Why? I have nobody to mail. My family is in the real world. Holy shit, do I have a family here? Why can’t I remember? I'm 11, right? What was my childhood? Am I even American here? Rochelle pushed her trolley around as she inspected all the owls there. She was looking for a specific type. 

A scops owl? Really? Just because the Pottermore quiz said that's my patronus? Wait, does this mean I actually have a Patronus in this world? Am I able to cast Expecto Patronum? The scops owl was located. The only one in the shop, in fact. She was a beautiful grey-brown with golden-yellow eyes. She was only a year old with the name Aether. Rochelle was overjoyed at being able to buy her along with the needed supplies to properly care for Aether. Holy shit, I have a pet owl. I just bought a pet owl, and for what? Why did I have to get the one that a dumb quiz said would be my patronus? What am I doing? Why cant I stop?

Once Aether and all the owl supplies were loaded onto the trolley, Rochelle walked right into Mr. Mulpepper’s Apothecary for the required cauldron, crystal phials, and brass scales. It was a rather quick trip in comparison to the others, and the quickest was stopping by Twinkle’s Telescopes for the telescope required for astronomy. Holy fuck, I’m gonna be making potions now? I really am a witch. How is this real? Am I actually living this? It feels like I'm watching a movie. And based on the fact I can’t feel anything, this has to be a dream at least, right? The remaining item on the list was a wand. There is only one place to think of buying a wand when in Diagon Alley: Ollivanders, which is exactly where Rochelle walked into next. 

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Am I legitimately in THE Ollivanders shop? Am I getting a wand? If I'm a witch, I’m getting a wand, right? Will I be able to do magic? Pottermore said my wand would be Ash wood, Phoenix core, 12 ½ length, brittle flexibility. Is that what I'm getting? What will it look like? Walking in and up to the desk, Rochelle didn't hesitate to ring the bell. A moment later, Garrick Ollivander himself walked up with a smile. He happily helped find Rochelle her wand, and to mind-Rochelle’s surprise, the only things different from the quiz were the fir wood and the hard flexibility. She did manage to buy a holster for her wand that wrapped around her waist like a belt before she left. I'm still me, right? Why would a different wand choose me? But wait, can an online quiz be compared to the real thing? Is this even real? What the hell is going on!?

The moment she got her wand from Ollivanders and halted her walking on the cobble beneath her feet, the brain fog cleared. Looking down at the wand in her hand, she took stock of her surroundings yet again, but this time, with such clarity it was impossible to deny: Rochelle McCullen just got Isekai’d into the Harry Potter Universe. How? No clue. Why? Even less of a clue. She was pushing a trolley with all the school supplies she had just watched herself buy. Aether looked at her curiously from her cage.

Rochelle stared at her wand and trolley for a few moments too long before she felt eyes on her. There were people all around who were taller than her. That's strange… She was slightly above average height for her age at 5’8”. Why were those seemingly normal people so much taller than her? It was then she noticed the small size of her hands. The large size of the cart next to her that was carrying all of her things. She turned her head and caught sight of her reflection in the window of a shop, and her eyebrows shot up, eyes going wide. Rochelle looked like herself, of course. Her brown and red hair is still as long as ever. But she was small. Her face is chubbier than before. She looked young. She was young. Rochelle was a child . Just like before, the moment she went searching for understanding, it found its way to the forefront of her mind. Rochelle McCullen: age 11, a young witch preparing for school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Unknown if she was pureblood, half-blood, or muggleborn. But no parents were in sight, or mind. 

Once she accepted the unquestioning feeling in her that this knowledge was true, Rochelle put her wand away into her convenient wand holster at her hip. She pushed the cart into a nearby alley and walked in so deep she ended up in a complete dead end. And once she knew she was alone, she crumpled against the wall and started crying. This was all so much to take in. It was overwhelming. She couldn't help but cry. But it wasn’t sobs or heavy breathing that accompanied the tears spilling from her eyes. It was clarity. A clarity that made her simply cry more, because the facts were: 1) she wasn't in the real world anymore, she was in the Harry Potter Universe. 2) She already existed as a character that was undeniably herself, but with such little backstory that she needed to come up with something, anything to establish a place in this world. 3) There was no way to get home.

After a good, long cry to absorb and process all the information she could glean from her mind, Rochelle opened her notebook and retrieved a pencil from her bag. It was still so strange that she had muggle stationery with her, but best not to dwell on that. She then began writing down her plan as quickly as it formed in her head. 

Backstory: I know the future to a degree. That makes me a seer. But as I can't gain new information, I must be a new type. I’m going to Hogwarts so my first-ever-seen abilities can be studied better than they would be at Ilvermorney. This was decided by the headmaster. My guardianship is to be determined and chosen by me. As for my lineage and upbringing…..

She continued to write the place she wished to have in this world with such fervor that when the directions on how to get to Hogwarts without an adult suddenly appeared in her mind, she didn’t even flinch. Once she finished writing, she felt a warm sensation wash away the fear that had plagued her before. A sense of rightfulness. Of truth. As if she had simply written the truth of her life as it already was and not just pulled a backstory out of her ass. It felt as if the universe, or magic itself, settled into comfort and contentment after a fluffed adjustment of the world.

She tucked away her notebook and pencil and began pushing her cart to the public floo hub. Most shops and living spaces had a floo of their own, but the public floo was made for those who didn't wish to use the Knight Bus or ask permission to use a shop's floo. The building was much like one would expect, with many floo hearths lining a hallway-like building. At the front, right inside the door, there was a ticket counter.

Did you have to pay to use the public floo? It makes sense to Rochelle when she thinks back to the Europe trip she took back in high school, and how annoyed she was when she discovered you have to pay to use a public bathroom. While that happened in the real world, it makes sense that the same could be said about a fictional world's transportation.

With that sobering reminder of her past existence and the sudden contentment to pay her way, she walked up to the counter. She paid the man sitting there, and he handed her a pouch containing just enough powder for one trip. How she knew how much powder it took for one trip, Rochelle would never know. Sure, all these questions were annoying and seemed to pile up quickly, but something in her mind seemed to disregard those types of pointless questions. Which honestly made the transition from real world to fake world all the smoother.

Once she got her powder and pushed her cart to one of the open floo hearths, Rochelle got situated in place and took the powder out of the pouch. She confidently said “Hogsmeade” and threw the powder down at her feet, causing an eruption of green flame to surround her. Her vision morphed from Diagon Alley’s public floo hub to a view of the most darling old village Rochelle has ever seen. It would appear that Hogsmeade’s public floo was just a simple flame out in the center of a courtyard toward the edge of the village. Rochelle pushed her cart out of the floo and took a moment to look around at her new surroundings. It was amazing how one moment she was in London, and now she was in the middle of nowhere in Scotland.

The time being a little after noon, she began to push her cart along the poorly kept cobble path to the more commonly used parts of the village. She knew that the Three Broomsticks would most likely serve her adequate food, so she made her way there. As this was not a part of her mental map, it took her a while to find her way there. She was able to get some really tasty food before she began following her map again and headed in the direction of Hogwarts. It hadn’t occurred to her to fully take in her surroundings. She was a girl on a mission.

While the way there was well-beaten and mostly cobbled, it wasn't paved. Some of the path was just dirt. Pushing the cart over small hills and through partial forests was rather difficult and exhausting. She didn’t have much stamina, especially as a child. This made the trek pushing the cart all the more difficult, but eventually, she made it to the front gate of Hogwarts and looked around at the empty courtyard with various planting beds and a large fountain at the center.

It was as she looked at the splendor of her school-to-be that she realized she was a complete and utter idiot, smacking her forehead with her palm. She’s a damn witch. She has magic. Rochelle quickly opened her backpack and retrieved her notebook. She had noticed it in passing when she first arrived in this body, but looking at it now, she couldn't deny it. This was the notebook she died clutching. Upon opening it and examining it, she confirmed her suspicion: inside was all her spell research.

Flipping the pages of the book, ideas came flooding into her mind and reminded her exactly how much of an idiot she was. Why didn't she try a locomotive charm? Or literally anything to make the trek here easier, so she didn't have to push her cart. She glanced at Aether and softly joked to the bird. “Why didn't you say something? Did you just like watching me suffer?” Of course, Aether said nothing and just looked at her unamused.

Flipping a few more pages, Rochelle found the spell she was looking for and promptly emptied her black backpack onto the ground and drew her wand. The Undetectable Extension Charm, advanced magic even for graduates of magic school, let alone an 11-year-old with no experience casting any kind of magic. This spell is highly managed by the Ministry and not allowed for private use. Her coin pouch from Gringotts must have the charm on it, the way she was shoveling a small fortune into it. She could be in a lot of trouble if people knew she was trying to make her backpack into endless storage, too. It was stupid of her to try this as her first spell, but it would make everything so much easier if she had everything she owned with her at all times. So like the idiot she continued to feel she was, she pointed her wand at the now empty black backpack and cast “Capacious Extremis” in hopes of any sort of result. Nothing happened. Not even a slight spark of magic.

With a furrowed brow, Rochelle closed her eyes and began to focus. Began to try and feel something, anything, that would resemble magic flowing within her. And after a few moments of nothing, she began trying to remember what it had felt like when receiving her wand. Unfortunately, she had gotten it while in a fog, so it was harder to recall than any of the memories before the fog and after it lifted. What did work, though, was when she tried to imagine visually. She began to imagine two tongues of flame. Not hot, just a comfortable warmth. One white, one black. The two flames began to dance around and orbit each other, creating a wonderful harmony. A Yin-Yang of warmth. And while focusing on that warmth, Rochelle attempted the charm again.

“Capacious Extremis.” She cast the charm again. Nothing happened again, but the handle of her wand was warm. She could feel a slight tingle in her fingertips. She had definitely used magic, but it didn’t work. Why? Her mind began swirling with theories and shot back to everything she had researched about how magic worked in this world. Then she remembered that harder forms of magic called for more than a wealth of magic and a strong magic core; it called for precise control. How was she going to get this control? By doing it over and over again until she got it.

And that's exactly what she did. She sat on the ground in the Hogwarts front courtyard for nearly 3 hours, practicing the same charm over and over, working on her magic control. Her pride wouldn’t let her attempt another spell to gain control that way. She just HAD to do one of the more difficult charms as her first spell. The more she tried, the more frustrated she got. Eventually, she thought about how her visualization of magic had been fire, and now imagined how fire is controlled in her old world. More of redirecting than controlling the actual flow of it. Like how forest fires are stopped by digging trenches or by water to stop its spread before trying to extinguish it. Or how simple fire pits often have non-flammable barriers around it like stone. So now she pointed her wand at the bag and took a deep breath as she visualized her yin-yang magical flames and began to cast, watching her visualization closely.

The flames split off, mostly from the white and a bit from the black, and combined to make a new tongue of flame that was a very light grey. The original tongues of flame continued their comfortable dance while the grey flame began flying around and expanding without a clear direction. Rochelle then imagined walls of stone rising and giving the flame a direction to go. Every time the flame tried to go beyond the barriers, she imagined water splashing it, like a spray bottle on a cat who did something wrong, basically training the thing. Evidently, this seemed to work as the closer the flame seemed to get to Rochelle’s destination for it, the easier it became to direct it. In what felt like her millionth uttering of the incantation, Rochelle softly whispered out another “Capacious Extremis,” and to her astonishment, it worked. She had just cast magic for the very first time, and it was a difficult extension charm at that!

Unable to contain her joy, Rochelle squealed and jumped in place before clearing her throat and taking a breath to regain her composure. This wasn't the time to lose her cool. So she began loading all of her things into this unassuming black backpack, which was now able to carry any belongings of hers that she may have in this world. Save for Aether.

Once she placed her things in the bag, including her notebook, she pointed her wand at Aether in her cage and cast “ Locomotor cage. ” The visualization was so quick, it was nearly missable. The fire split and merged into a new flame so quickly that all she caught was the spark, unable to discern the shade of grey. The stone walls she had erected before remained in place. She had created a direct path from her magic core to her wand. Now, casting magic felt like second nature. Like she was born to do it. Like she was made for it. The cage began floating and following her as she began making her way to where she needed to go.

Following the map, her mind, which was telling her where to go, led her right to Dumbledore’s office. Now, Rochelle hated the man. She hated how he always tried to appear omniscient with his half-truths and annoyingly calm demeanor. Not to mention the fact that he was the one to have left Harry in the hands of the Dursleys. He didn’t even try to make sure Sirius got a trial before getting thrown into Azkaban. He seemed to have actively wanted Harry to grow up abused, ripe for the manipulating. Unfortunately for Rochelle, she needed his help getting her chosen guardians to agree. Well, less needed his help per se, and more his position as Chief Warlock in the Wizengamot to serve as witness.

Oddly enough, Dumbledore just happened to be going into his office as she approached. That makes getting in without the password easier than anticipated. Seeing the man in person caused unimaginable rage to bubble in her stomach. It took everything in her not to sneer at the old man in a gaudy outfit. She took a deep breath, halting her steps. She then canceled the locomotive charm on her cage with Aether inside and began carrying it. Can’t show all her cards yet, now can she? Taking yet another moment to compose herself, she plastered a sweet and innocent smile on her face and walked up to him.

“Hello, Professor Dumbledore! I was hoping to have a word with you?” Rochelle’s voice was chipper, almost excited. She added a bounce in her steps as if she were skipping to the Hogwarts headmaster without a care in the world.

Dumbledore turned around calmly with the slightest raise of his eyebrows, so small it was nearly invisible. His awful taste in fashion gave him a whimsical appearance to accompany the grandfather-like quality of his aura. He smiled down at Rochelle and said in a calm and knowing voice, “Ah, Miss McCullen. School does not start for another three months.” Either he made a point to memorize the appearance of all his students, or he had to have used Legilimency to know who she was. Or perhaps it was the fact that there was an American little girl confidently walking about Hogwarts and talking to him like she had met him before. Context clues? Luck? Who knows.

Rochelle smiled brighter in return, knowing he tends to seem omniscient even if he isn’t. Her walk-skip-thing came to a stop as she got closer. She gave a respectful nod of her head and stepped closer, saying, “I’m hoping to discuss a matter of urgency with you.” She took yet another step closer, nodding her head toward the statue that had moved aside as she said, “If I may?” Her heart was racing, and she could feel a flush of embarrassment on her cheeks as she didn’t quite hold the confidence she was exuding. However, her outward demeanor displayed a calm that could rival Dumbledore’s own. She couldn't allow herself to feel proud yet. That could blow her cover.

The professor nodded silently and opened the door for her, leading the way. Walking in, Rochelle took a few moments to look around. The office looked much like it did in the movies. In fact, so did Dumbledore. Not exactly with the actors' faces put together, but enough that Rochelle could easily recognize him. The two walked to the Headmaster's desk and took their respective seats, Rochelle setting her cage down on the ground in the process. Without missing a beat, Rochelle cut right to the chase and stated, “I would like you to recount to me your knowledge of my situation, Professor. Then I would like your assistance in securing a guardian.”

Dumbledore placed his hands on his desk in front of him and clasped them together, interlocking his fingers as he solemnly nodded, “I see.” He paused, twinkling eyes scanning over Rochelle’s face. “I am aware that the headmaster of Ilvermorney has deemed his school ill-equipped to handle the study of your abilities. I have been told you are a seer the likes of which nobody has ever seen before. We welcome you to Hogwarts as we do all students. It has been brought to my attention you do not wish to hide these abilities, am I correct?” Rochelle was a bit surprised at how easily he was talking. She expected some kind of bush beating.

She nods before responding with, “I don't wanna hide them because I honestly suck at keeping secrets. I know I'll slip up at some point, so I don't want it to be a secret. But I do wanna limit people asking me to share the future with them. I don't make prophecies, so I remember everything I see. Or read, to be more precise. It would be annoying if people kept asking and I kept repeating the explanation of how these abilities seem to work.” That was the only excuse she could come up with when writing her backstory in her notebook. And with Dumbledore’s nod, it seemed everything she had devised for her existence seemed to be this world's reality. Why was that? Was there someone or something helping her fit in? Best to file that line of questioning for another day.

Dumbledore maintained the same smile, radiating a calming aura that seemed almost too perfect. “That is indeed the explanation I have received. And given your request for aid in finding a guardian, am I correct in assuming you have not found one as of yet?” 

It was Rochelle’s turn to give an air of all-knowing confidence, as she shook her head to disagree with him. “If you remember, Professor, I stated I needed aid in securing a guardian, not finding one.” Dumbledore's eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. Hinting at an underlying annoyance at her nearly condescending tone of voice. “You see, the guardian I've chosen may be… reluctant to accept me as their charge. I have no doubt I can convince them to agree; however, I believe a contract would be the best course of action. I need the Chief Warlock to serve as witness to said contract. It is of the utmost importance as the fate of someone's future depends on their acceptance, and so, I need help.” Rochelle slightly straightened her back as she spoke. She tried to give an air of someone beyond their years in intelligence. She didn't hold back her vocabulary, but tried to keep it casual enough that she still looked like a kid. She maintained a calm smile while her eyes held a more serious air.

This got the man's attention. He looked at her more seriously over his half-moon-shaped glasses and replied in a slightly more serious tone. “Am I privy to knowing who this ‘someone’ is?” His gaze bore a hole into her. Willing her to meet it.

Rochelle didn't lose her smile as she simply responded, “Of course, in time. For now, if you agree to assist me by bearing witness to this contract, I hope to have, then I will also need your assistance to get there.” She made a point to avoid his eyes. Legilimency required eye contact, and it was just too fun to keep information from the old manipulative bastard.

Chapter Text

Mere moments after Rochelle side-along apparated with Dumbledore to the front of a large manor, the front gates opened. It seems they were either expecting this (unlikely) or that this is normally how they greet the headmaster of the school their child is to attend. That is, assuming that house visits are normal. But regardless of why they were welcomed in, they were still welcomed, so Rochelle wasted no time in fixing her bag on her shoulder, making sure Aether was alright in her cage, and began walking forward. Which promptly resulted in staggered steps and nausea.

She completely forgot that a common reaction to apparating is extreme nausea. So it took a few moments for Rochelle to regain her composure. All the while, Dumbledore was watching with soft and quiet amusement. Not a speck of concern to be shown for this 11-year-old student who's never apparated a day in her life.

Once her composure was gathered, Rochelle walked forward without even sparing a glance at the man who she knew would follow her. She took a few moments as she walked with Aether's cage in hand to observe the front garden of this manor. This place was huge, and in the distance, she could see the home's signature albino peacock fluffing its feathers. When at the door, it took another moment before she had gathered the courage to knock. Just as she went to knock, the doors swung open to reveal Lord and Lady Malfoy themselves.

“Headmaster Dumbledore, to what do we owe this… unexpected pleasure?” Lucius sneered behind the shoddy mask he called a welcoming smile. His eyes read only disdain as he looked at the adult at his door. A sentiment Rochelle honestly agreed with. A moment later, those venom-filled eyes raked over Rochelle, causing the gaze to take on a slight tinge of confusion.

Narcissa was lovingly holding onto her husband's arm. Her face was a statue of refined politeness. Even her eyes wore a neutral expression, not giving away any of her true thoughts and feelings. She also happened to notice the little girl at her door, but unlike Lucius, her gaze didn't even slightly change.

Dumbledore gave a slight bow as a greeting before lifting his chin a bit as he said, “Ah, yes, an unexpected pleasure indeed. My deepest apologies for dropping by, but there is an urgent matter that my young friend and I need to discuss.” He gestured toward Rochelle with a simple, small wave of his hand. The use of the word ‘friend’ gave her the creeps. This old coot was most definitely not her friend, nor will he ever be.

Rochelle smiled up at the frankly scary couple and gave a small and quick curtsy as she introduced herself. “Rochelle McCullen.” When she raised back to her normal standing position, she let her eyes wander, though she wasn't taking in the awe of being at such an expensive home, but more so, looking around at the rooms. “Shall we take our discussion to the drawing room? Or is there a more formal location you wish to use?” She was trying her hardest to act like a child who was trying to act mature. Which wasn't easy, seeing as even with a 23-year-old's brain, Rochelle isn't the most mature person.

Narcissa smiled a bit more genuinely. Her eyebrows raise ever so slightly, to make her seem as if she's impressed. Whether she is or not is yet to be determined. But she took a step back and replied, “Yes, of course. Right this way.” She led her husband by the arm in her grasp to the drawing room, which was a short walk away.

The front door was closed behind them as Rochelle and the headmaster entered the manor. If this weren't a magical world, Rochelle would be a bit freaked out. Hell, she still hasn't fully recovered from all this, so she was a bit freaked out. But freak-outs can happen later. Gotta find a place to stay first.

While following the Malfoy couple, Rochelle looked at the interior decor. The walls and floors were pure marble. The walls are a dark grey, while the floors are a more neutral grey. It would feel cold and gloomy if it weren't for the warm lighting of the sconces and sunlight pouring through the window.

Once in the drawing room, Rochelle allowed herself to take in her surroundings. The whole manor had a dark anesthetic, but this room had a blue tint to it. Still mostly dark greys, but there were some accents of a light blue in some flowers and decor. The room is very widely proportioned, and in the center of the room, there was a long, ornate table. Another notable feature of the room was the fireplace with a handsome marble mantelpiece with a gilded mirror hanging above it. Rochelle smiled a bit at seeing how cozy the room felt to her, despite the circumstances she would soon find herself in.

She walked the rest of the way into the room and took a seat on the opposite side to where Lady Malfoy had taken her seat. Dumbledore had gone to sit at the head of the table, but Lucius was already sitting there with his wife on his right. Rochelle had to hold back a snicker at the subtly annoyed face Dumbledore had made. He then relented by sitting to Rochelle’s left.

Dumbledore cleared his throat after taking his seat. His eyes glanced at the couple as he spoke. “Miss McCullen here is an American student who will be attending Hogwarts this coming year. To, as the Americans say, ‘cut to the chase’, we are here to discuss the Malfoys taking her in as your ward.” He spoke as if they had no choice in the matter. This was not what Rochelle had in mind for the type of vibe she wanted this meeting to have. She had to take a breath to maintain a smile on her face, turning her attention to Aether momentarily while she fought to maintain her composure, making sure she was content in her cage on the ground next to Rochelle.

Both the Lord and Lady let their respective expressions change with the blunt presentation of their intentions. Clearly, shock was on their faces, but also confusion and what could only be perceived by Rochelle as disgust. Lucius didn't seem to hold that part of his expression back as he let words accompany it. “I beg your pardon?” was practically spit out of his mouth. And he would have added more if his wife hadn't stepped in.

Narcissa put a hand on her husband's arm and interjected with a calm, “Perhaps a more detailed explanation is in order.” Her eyes fit over to the strange little girl momentarily before they returned to the old, twinkling man in a gaudy robe.

Dumbledore looked at Rochelle with a nod. As if that conveyed anything. Taking a deep breath, Rochelle returned the nod, as if understanding, before she said, “Allow me to provide that for you, Lady Malfoy. It was discovered not long ago that I have the sight. This is not unusual, perhaps for one of my age; however, this is a new type of sight nobody has ever seen before. As I am the first of this new kind of seer, I've been allowed to name what I am: I am a Reader. I can see the future as if I have read a book, which allows me to remember all I've seen- read. This also means the future I've read is limited and has an end, as all books do. Research on the intricacies of my gift is still ongoing, which is the reason the headmaster of Ilvermorney has decided I should attend Hogwarts instead. At the risk of sounding glib, I need a guardian who can provide the necessary protections for a case so volatile as mine. Which is one of the reasons I have decided I would like you to be my guardians.”

She plastered a smile on her face. It was much easier to smile at Narcissa Malfoy than she thought. She was rather beautiful, with her long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Rochelle figured she would be colder than this, though. In the books, she was described as having a clear and cold voice and exuding a haughty and proud air about her. While she did indeed have the air expected of a pure-blood, her gaze and faux smile were warmer than expected.

Lucius seemed as though he wasn't quite processing the information he had just been given. Mouth opening and closing like a fish, choking on his words like some undignified man, he surely wasn't. Narcissa, on the other hand, seemed to absorb the information rather quickly. “In short, you require a well-established and trustworthy family to take you in their care? Surely there are other pure-blood families that you could have chosen from. I sense there is more to this? Your ability, you mentioned. Perhaps that has some weight in your decision.”

Rochelle nodded curtly before replying with a simple “of course.” She then retrieved her backpack from her back, placing it on her lap, and opened it. She grabbed her wand and cast “Accio contract, Accio pen.” She placed the blank contract on the table before she could catch the pen. She could have asked a house elf to fetch parchment and a quill and ink, or perhaps simply discussed verbally what their agreement would be before writing it down, but she wanted to show off that she could already use magic proficiently.

This got a rather nice response from the couple. Lucius seemed to have gathered his nerve and smiled…well, more like smirked, in satisfaction and surprise.

Once allowing the reactions to fully settle, Rochelle looked back at the couple and said, “I know this family well. I know what you value as pure-bloods and your tactical thinking when it comes to the safeguarding of your family. I know you more than likely won't take in a fledgling witch such as myself out of the goodness of your hearts with no reward for your efforts. So I propose we strike a deal. As fine Slytherins such as yourselves should appreciate, I have ambitions regarding my decision. And I know what your ambitions are, or will be, within the next 7 years. So, a trade.” She then placed the contract flat on the table and clicked her pen. Not even caring that it was a Muggle tool. “I propose a transaction of goods and services that will benefit us both.”

Lucius’s eyebrows furrowed a bit. Confusion was more evident on his face. “One moment, young lady. Am I to understand that in your sight, our family is seen in enough detail that you feel you have the edge in negotiations here?” With the maintained smile on Rochelle's face, Lucius took that as a positive answer. “What on earth would be so imperative in our future that you would risk causing issues with the Malfoy family?” His voice still spat with venom, consonance clipping through the air, but the inquiry was genuine enough that Rochelle answered anyway, despite it seeming like a rhetorical question.

Her eyes were trained on the man with pale blonde hair and cold grey eyes. Time to cast the line. “Your son, Draco,” was all she said before Lucius lost a bit of his composure.

“What about Draco? Is he in danger? What's wrong with him?” He seemed worried. He was worried. The fish took the bait, now to reel them in.

“Mr. Malfoy, that entirely depends on your decision here. If I don't intervene, Draco will live. However, quality of life is more at risk. I cannot say much without derailing the train of your fate. But in Draco's case, I highly encourage derailing.” Rochelle let her voice have a sense of urgency. Her eyes were given an intensity she hoped was enough to convince them to at least hear her out on this. Inside, she was begging them to just hurry up and drop the formality. Being formal always took too long, and she just wanted a place to stay so she could let herself freak out and plan her next move.

Narcissa's expression looked more scared than she seemed to be trying to allow. But before she could say or do anything, Lucius scoffed and said, “How do we know this child is even telling the truth?” He looked at Dumbledore for the answer.

Dumbledore, who until this point was a silent observer, looked from Lucius to Rochelle, then back to Lucius and said, “Perhaps one prophecy? Prediction? Something to show your credibility, young McCullen?”

Rochelle was afraid of this. She can't exactly say anything that hasn't happened yet. There were a few things she could vaguely say, but not in Dumbledore's presence. His knowing anything about what the Malfoys had done in the past and what they plan to do would change the timeline too drastically. “My apologies, Headmaster. If I'm to do that, I will need you to exit the room and refrain from listening in. All the things I can say to give myself credibility are personal beyond measure and should not be shared with anyone aside from those it is about.” She tried to sound sagely. Did she sound sagely? God, she hopes she does.

Dumbledore's eyebrows raised a bit, but he simply stood from his seat and walked out of the room without another word.

For extra measure, Rochelle cast Muffliato as best she could before turning to the Malfoy couple. “Are you positive you wish for me to share what I know?” Her tone of voice was more serious than before. She dropped her smile and met the eyes of the scary couple before her with a conviction that should not exist in a child's gaze.

While Narcissa seemed reluctant, Lucius arrogantly replied, “Of course, child. Spit it out.” Losing any masks of politeness he had kept in place while in front of Hogwarts' headmaster.

Rochelle took a deep breath before saying, “Alright. If I must.” She straightened her posture a bit before continuing. “You remain a Death Eater, Lord Malfoy. You have plans to revive the dark lord. Or you will have plans. I don't quite know when the plans are made.” 

Lucius and Narcissa's eyes both widen at the accusation. “Lies,” Lucius says, not seeming to defend himself beyond that, before Rochelle continues.

“I know what happens in the next 7 years, Lord Malfoy. I know your fate. You may choose to believe me or not, but the fact remains that I am not here to change your fate, but your sons. If you truly love Draco, as I know you both do, you will heed my warning. To remain vague, I'll present Draco's fate in the form of a traditional prophecy.” She clears her throat a bit for dramatic effect before throwing together some Jack Sparrow-level confusing version of what's gonna happen to Draco. “In the summer post-fifth, the snake will lend its fang to the child. The prey is the manipulator the child is to end alone. Failure due to the doe, the end is an inevitable cage for all after the dead die again.”

Rochelle was proud of basically telling them Draco is going to be tasked with killing Dumbledore, but Snape is gonna do it for him. And they're all gonna end up in Azkaban for siding with that snake-faced bastard Voldemort. But it was still confusing as hell, so maybe they didn't get it? Maybe Jack Sparrow levels of confusion were a bit much?

It took a long moment of silence for them to process the prediction they were just given. But eventually, Narcissa spoke. “So you're saying, in layman's terms, Draco has a grim fate? That hardly adds credibility.”

“Ah, yes, but are you willing to risk it? Here is what I propose. In exchange for taking me as your ward and essentially adopting me, I will guide Draco away from his dreadful fate. I quite like Draco. He's got the potential to be a very talented and great wizard. But he won't ever get to be one. That's the blunt version of it. I want to help guide him to success.” She paused and thought for a moment. They were holding back. They love Draco enough to do anything to protect him. Well, Lucius, maybe not, but Narcissa would jump at this chance to protect her son. So what gives? Maybe showing she isn't afraid of dark magic would help? So maybe she should ask them questions to open them up a bit more. “What are you afraid of? What is hindering your decision to accept my proposal? From what I know, a threat to your family and assurance to avoid that threat should be more than enough of a reason to take me in.”

Lucius and Narcissa look at each other for a few moments before looking back at the girl. “If we are to take you into our care, you need to fit in, for lack of more elegant phrasing,” Narcissa says in a calmer tone than a moment before. She continues with, “We want to ensure you won't hinder our son's education or stray him away from our ideology. There is also the matter of your lineage.”

Rochelle gives a slow nod. Steering him from their ideology was kinda the whole goal. Keeping him from a bigoted mentality will keep him in Harry’s good graces and make sure he is on the right side of the war. Maybe if she just glazes over that part? Distract them? Maybe flaunting her magic would do? They want to make sure she doesn't hinder his education, so maybe convincing them that she can help his education could work. “Essentially, you're wondering if I believe in blood purity? You may rest assured, I come from a pure-blood family. However, my parents died when I was 4, and I was left to be raised in a magical orphanage.” She doesn't actually clarify what her thoughts on blood purity are. “Or perhaps you are referring to my thoughts on dark magic? Or my skill? Surely you could see due to my earlier spellcasting that I'm skilled in magic already, despite having only bought my wand this morning-”

“This morning? Surely you jest.” Lucius scoffed. He looked away, rolling his eyes ever so slightly before his gaze returned to the child. “In no reality could anyone who has just received their wand that morning perform a fourth-year charm. Unless, of course, they are from a proper family and received training before receiving their wand. Based on my understanding of your upbringing, that does not apply to you.” He glared at her, lifting his chin and looking down his nose.

Rochelle swallowed a chuckle, but the amusement still showed on her face as she gestured to herself and said, “Welcome to reality, Lord Malfoy.” Perhaps she was getting cocky, but at this point, she just wanted to show off. So she reached into her backpack, grabbed her notebook, and opened it as she said, “Perhaps you wish to make a request? I've done thorough research before I acquired my wand. I should be able to perform every spell in this notebook. No spell is too hard for me. Dark magic as well, of course. I have no qualms with casting even the darkest of spells.” Not getting the reaction to the last statement she said as she wanted, she leaned forward and said clearly, "As in I'm perfectly alright with casting unforgivables.”

Now that got a look. Lucius looked interested. His previous arrogance seemed to instantaneously evaporate. Narcissa looked both concerned and impressed. However, seeing is believing, so of course, Lucius says, “let's put that to the test then.” And called in a house elf just by saying “Elf.” With a crisp pop sound, a small elf appeared in the room next to Lucius. “If what you say is true. Cast the cruciatus curse on this elf.” He made a lazy gesture to the elf and looked almost excited.

Rochelle’s eyes widened. The elves looked exactly the way they did in the movies. It was almost surreal seeing Dobby. She can't possibly do that to Dobby of all elves! Not that she had a particular soft spot for him, but he was important to the story, to Harry. If she planned to be friends with Harry, she couldn’t have his house elf friend hating her. It was clear her shock was misinterpreted for not being able to do it, as Lucius let out another scoff. Dobby looked positively terrified at hearing the order, looking between his master and the new young witch with a small whimper.

Rochelle took a breath and looked back at Lucius. “Unfortunately, sir, I don't think Crucio would work for me on Dobby.” Dobby's eyes went wide at hearing his name from the young witch's mouth. 

Lucius's brows furrowed, and he began to say, “How do you-” a look of realization softened his brow. “Ah, yes, you're a seer. A Reader, as you call it. How could I forget? Is there a particular reason it wouldn't work?”

Seriously? Use your noodle, dude! Connect the dots yourself. Rochelle chose to ignore the snark and nodded her head solemnly. “In frank honesty, I'm fond of Dobby.” A lie, but he doesn't need to know that. “The cruciatus curse only works if you want to cause harm. And with what I know from my reading, there is no feasible way I could desire any harm coming to Dobby.” She steeled herself before continuing. “Perhaps summon an animal? That is, unless a house elf is the best you can do.” She wasn't exactly sure that goading the man would work, but she had to try and persuade them not to make her cast it on an intelligent creature. She doesn't exactly want to cast it on an animal either, but she could make herself do it to prove herself faster.

Lucius sneered at this. However, Narcissa had a soft smile on her lips before she spoke. “You're quite knowledgeable in the function of the curse.” She looked at Dobby for a moment before she drew her wand and cast Serpensortia and conjured a snake on the table in front of them. “Would this do, Miss…” Clearly, Narcissa didn't care to learn her name the first three times it was said, but now that this little girl is more interesting, she must be worth her time. How very kind. (Please note the sarcasm.)

“McCullen, Rochelle McCullen. And yes, this will do just fine.” Rochelle didn't lie when she said she didn't mind casting the unforgivables. What was one snake? Sure, she loves animals and doesn't like hurting them, but she will if needed. And if it saves the life of someone you care about, what's the harm of using dark magic? It never quite made sense to her when reading the Harry Potter books. What made magic evil was the caster, not the spells.

Rochelle brandished her wand and pointed it at the snake. Without even flinching, she took a breath, imagining the tongues of flame again. This was her first time casting a purely dark spell. She knew it had to be a purely dark spell because the flame used to cast this curse didn't have any from the white tongue. She cleared her mind and imagined that black flame burning the snake in front of her, and cast “Crucio.” The snake began writhing in agony, letting out horrifying hisses as its body curved and coiled in on itself in clear, unbearable pain. Her face had dropped its smile from before, maintaining a cold and indifferent expression. All she could think about was how doing this would get her closer to her goal. This snake was conjured. Was it even a real snake? She probably wouldn’t be able to do this to a snake found outside. A spider, though? She'd be able to do this to any spider, conjured or not. Those things are creepy and gross.

Lucius looked quite surprised and… happy? Was he happy to find a child who could do this? That's kinda messed up. But Narcissa, on the other hand, looked only impressed. She raised her hand, saying, “That's enough, dear.”

Rochelle stopped casting the curse. Did Narcissa Malfoy just call her dear? Let's evaluate that another time, but for now, Rochelle's focus was on her notebook as she flipped pages frantically. She soon found the spell she wanted and pointed her wand at the snake that was now lying down in exhaustion, slightly twitching from the aftermath of the curse. She smiled softly, almost creepily, which was intended, and cast “Vipera Evanesca,” effectively getting rid of the snake. She then looked up at the two with that soft smile and said, "Surely that was enough to prove I am no ordinary 11-year-old witch.”

Lucius took in a breath and said, “Surely indeed,” while staring at the place that once held the snake and released that breath. It took a moment to collect himself before looking back at Rochelle and saying, “Let's discuss the terms of the contract.” He had no smile. Nothing negative in his gaze. If anything, it seemed as though he was content with having Rochelle in his home. He didn’t even look at his wife before making this decision.

Rochelle's smile brightened a bit and cast a “finite incantatum” to undo the muffliato that was cast before and said loudly to the door, “Professor Dumbledore, you can come back in now!” She sat in her seat, practically bouncing with joy. She closed her notebook before Dumbledore could come in and positioned herself to write the contract.

Dumbledore, none the wiser as to what had occurred in the room, walked in and sat in the seat he had been in before, walking right past a terrified Dobby who still hadn’t left the room. He looked at the three at the table and simply said, “I see Miss McCullen's credibility has been proven?”

Narcissa smiled at the professor and said in a nearly joyful voice, “Oh yes. While we agree the contract is necessary, we are more than happy to take Rochelle into our care.” Lucius nodded along, despite them not even exchanging a glance with each other.

The girl in question was practically beaming. All the talking before seemed to be null and void. All she needed to do was cast Crucio and say she'd guide Draco, and they gave in! She prepared the document again, ready to write as she stated her clauses. “Firstly, for what I want in the deal. You will take me into your care and effectively treat me with the rights befitting your child. I will have the same power and standing in the house as Draco does, barring heirship. In practice, I'll be like his sibling on equal footing with equal protection. What I am willing to offer in exchange is my guidance in Draco’s future.”

The couple nodded to this, and Rochelle wrote it on the contract. Lucius then decided to ask, rather than order. Which was mildly startling. “Could you use your sight to aid our family as a whole?” Rochelle slightly preened. She had earned even a slight bit of respect from the man. This was a major win.

Rochelle shook her head. “I am not omniscient. I can't guarantee I'll always have the answers. However, I can add that my ability can be used by Draco alone. If I can help the family as a whole at his request, then I will. If I can't, even if he requests, then of course I can't. But if I have information and Draco does not request my help? That information dies with me.” This earned her a bit of a reluctant nod from Lucius. His expression darkened ever so slightly. He was an intelligent man, so he knew it was a bit much to ask after she had expressed multiple times that she was here for Draco’s benefit and not theirs.

With that all being written, Narcissa then chimed in. “I would like to request that you also aid Draco in his studies. Guidance away from a grim fate is, of course, wonderful and of great benefit to us. However, I would feel overjoyed and content knowing such a powerful young witch is helping our beloved son grow in his practical abilities.” Narcissa looked at Rochelle with a warmth that would be assumed to be foreign to her face. It was the look you'd expect her to have while looking at Draco. Why was she already so fond of Rochelle? That was kinda a small part of the goal, but why was it so well executed? Something has to be smelling fishy here, right?

Rochelle nodded and smiled widely, deciding to ignore the uneasiness in her stomach. “If he will let me, I would love to help him with practical magic!” She then added it to the contract. After reading it out loud to the room and everyone verbally agreeing, the three contract holders signed it, as well as Dumbledore, as the witness.

Mission accomplished.

Chapter Text

After Dumbledore left with a copy of the contract, Narcissa insisted on giving a tour of the manor. This allowed Rochelle to let her inner child out. Running around with her backpack firmly closed on her back, her precious notebook tucked securely away in the magical bag, and Aether contentedly in her cage that was being carried by Dobby, who silently followed the pair. Rochelle couldn’t help but admire the pure wonder of a rich family's mansion.

“I have been meaning to ask, Rochelle, what is that peculiar bag of yours?” Narcissa smiled warmly at her, seeming to drop the surface-level politeness she must always put on for company. Her posture was still straight and tight, but her shoulders were more relaxed. Her head tilted toward the girl in curiosity while looking at the backpack.

Rochelle turned to look at her with a bright smile of her own and said, “I have a fascinated interest in No-mag's. That's the American term for Muggle. I find it wonderful that they can function without magic. So, while I lived in America, I studied them. I like the convenience of many of their items. Such as this backpack! It's comfortable to carry around!” Her face froze a bit as she realized she just praised Muggles to a pure-blood supremacist . Oops.

Narcissa's face fell ever so slightly at hearing any praise for muggles, but she continued asking questions anyway. “And that writing utensil you used to make the contract. Is that a Muggle tool as well?” It was clear she was trying to get closer to the girl, even if that meant momentarily putting aside her own opinions. Admirable. And a bit suspicious. Why did she want to get closer?

Rochelle chuckled a bit nervously at her slip-up and nodded, saying, “That's called a pen. It's essentially a quill with no risk of spilling your ink. I also have pencils, which allow you to erase what you wrote when you make a mistake. It's rather convenient.” She knew this wasn't gonna be taken well. She had to fix this before it got worse, so she decided to hastily add, “Please don’t misunderstand Lady Malfoy. Magic is definitely better, but think about how creative you have to be and the ingenuity you’d have to have to be able to function in life without magic. You have to give credit where it's due. It would be unbecoming of anyone who matters to belittle or ignore another's success, simply because you dislike them. Would it not?” She smiled up at the woman nervously. Hoping to convey the idea that she actually thinks Wixan are superior, despite not believing that at all.

The woman nodded reluctantly before leading the way down a new hall, deciding to put an end to that conversation. “Perhaps now is a good time for you to meet Draco. If I recall, you claimed you are already fond of him based on what you know from your sight?” Rochelle walked next to her and nodded. Narcissa brightened considerably. “That's wonderful! I'm sure he will grow to be fond of you as well in no time!” She then led them to an ornate door and knocked on it before speaking again. “Draco, darling. There is someone I'd like you to meet.”

There was a small voice from the other side of the door that bade their entrance, so Narcissa opened the door and led Rochelle inside. The room was beautiful, but more of a masculine beauty as opposed to feminine. There were various toys in one corner of the room, some Quidditch posters on the wall, and a bookshelf. There was also an ornate-looking bed, a desk, and a set of seating in the center of the room. At the far side of the room, there were two different doors. Presumably, one was a closet and one was some kind of private bathroom.

Narcissa walked in and led Rochelle in as well. Rochelle took Aether from Dobby and thanked him with a kind smile before dismissing him. He bowed respectfully and walked out of the room, glancing back at the new young witch with a wary expression. Clearly, he was still startled from the earlier events. She then set Aether down on the floor near the door and stood back up, facing the seating area that housed some children. Draco was sitting on a plush chair in the seating area. Scattered on the other chair and the small couch, there were three other children. Draco didn't look up as he said, “I'll be down to meet them in a moment, Mum.”

Narcissa cleared her throat. “No need, love. She's right here.” Draco and his friends turned around and looked at the pair. Draco’s gaze locked on Rochelle, and he clearly didn't like seeing a girl in his room. But regardless, he got up and walked over, his friends remaining seated. “This is Rochelle. Your father and I have decided to take her into our care. Treat her as you would a big sister. She is older than you, but she will be starting Hogwarts with you.” She kept smiling. It was starting to get creepy with how much this woman, who was supposed to be cold, was smiling so warmly.

Rochelle thought for a moment. She didn't know the date. She knew she was already 11, but she didn't know how old Draco currently was. So she looked up at Narcissa and said, “Excuse me, ma'am, but what day is it today? I seem to have forgotten.” She smiled sheepishly. When she spoke, Draco's face changed to a more intense confusion. Clearly, he wasn't expecting an American accent. Or perhaps he was startled by the fact that she was unafraid of speaking to the Narcissa Malfoy.

“Today is May 31st, dear.” Draco’s confused look shot over to his mom. He must be just as thrown off at his mom calling someone dear as Rochelle was being called dear.

This made Rochelle smile a bit brighter and poorly hide a giggle. She looked at Draco, then back at Narcissa. “That means Draco will be getting his letter rather soon. If he hasn't gotten it already.” She looked back at Draco. “Your birthday is June 5th, right? Mine is December 17th. I already got my letter a while ago. I got my school supplies just this morning.”

Finally, Draco spoke to her. Complete bewilderment in every corner of his voice. “How do you know my birthday?” He looked back at his mother. “Sister? Why do I need a sister? And is she American? Mother, what is going on?” It was kinda funny to watch his pointy little face contort as he attempted to process all of this. Rochelle would have to be patient if she was gonna make him like her. They had to get along, or none of this was gonna work.

Rochelle looked at Narcissa as she explained Rochelle's abilities and circumstances, but it seemed to go right over the 10-year-old's head. So Rochelle decided to simplify. “Essentially, I know a lot of things, and I'm here to help you live up to your potential. I’m gonna be your sister from now on, so I hope we can get along.” She put out a hand for the boy to shake and smiled at him kindly.

Draco eyed her hand. He shot a look at his mother, who must have given him some kind of look in return, because he took her hand and slowly, reluctantly, shook it while still looking insanely confused. This made the girl beam with joy. She was actually speaking to and shaking the hand of Draco fucking Malfoy! It only now just hit her who she was meeting in the context that this was one of her favorite characters in the books. She’d have to add that to the list of things to freak out about later when she was alone.

Narcissa smiled and clapped her hands once. “Well, I'll leave you two to get acquainted then. Rochelle, whenever you are ready, call a house elf to show you to your room. They should be treating you as a member of our family. But if they do not, inform me immediately.” With a smile and a nod from the young girl, Narcissa left the room, closing the door behind her.

Once she left, Draco crossed his arms and made a kind of humph sound. Rochelle met his gaze while still smiling at him. Draco's pretentious prat mode has officially been activated as he made a face that was a bad imitation of the sneer Lucius makes. “You're going to have to explain. Mother's explanation made no sense. Who are you, and why are you suddenly my sister?” The sneer melted into something akin to genuine disgust as he uttered the last question.

Rochelle kept on smiling. She couldn't help it. She was just so happy to be here that she was beginning to lose her forced calm composure. Having to repeat this explanation so often was beginning to irritate her a bit, though. “I'm a new type of seer. I'm attending Hogwarts instead of Ilvermorney so my ability can be studied. It's not that difficult, Draco, you're swot enough to understand.” She felt a little giddy being able to use British slang. She read the word once in a fan fiction and looked it up. It's supposed to mean someone who studies or is smart. Being here in this universe meant she had to exchange one set of slang for another if she was gonna fit in. Not that she even cared about fitting in, so maybe she won't start now.

Draco scoffed, but didn't seem to have a retort. He simply implored her to continue. “What does that have to do with you being my sister?”

“I needed a guardian while I'm living here in the UK. I was permitted to choose who that would be. I chose the Malfoy family. After some discussion, convincing, and a contract, your parents agreed.” That had to be enough explanation for now. There were other people in the room, and they shouldn’t know this kind of insider knowledge of what's going on. She would have to sit down with Draco later and have a very long conversation about all of this. She then looked at the three guests in the room and walked past a perturbed Draco and right up to them with a smile. “Hello, I’m Rochelle.”

The two larger boys looked at each other, confused, before looking between Rochelle and Draco, who was walking up behind her. The thinner boy looked at her, confused as he said, “Uhm, yeah, hi?”

Draco walked back in front of Rochelle and put his hands on his hips. “Just who do you think you are!? And don’t say your name or that stupid explanation of being a seer again,” he eyed her outfit and spotted her backpack. “Are you Muggleborn? Or just a poorly raised half-blood? That ghastly bag has to be a Muggle thing, so you can't be pureblood. Why would my parents agree to take in a filthy mudblood?” He backed away from her a bit, as if breathing the same air as her would contaminate him.

Rochelle lost a bit of the brightness in her smile at the accusation. Not at the assumption she was Muggleborn, but at the use of the slur. However, she took a breath as she remembered just how bigoted Draco was first year in the books. She should have expected this. “I'm not Muggleborn, or a half blood. I’m a Pureblood, same as you; I was just raised in an orphanage.” Draco rolled his eyes and scoffed. “We are actually distantly related, if my lineage study is to be believed. I’m also one of the last of the Gaunt family line.” Rochelle allowed her eyes to sweep over the four boys to gauge their reactions, as well as try and identify them. It was clear that the two larger boys were Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, but the third would be harder to place.

Draco’s face lost its sneer. He was the first to speak, too. “Gaunt? Didn't they all die out?” He seemed more receptive to her presence now that he knew she was a pureblood. Or maybe it was that they’re related? Or she’s from a thought-dead family?

Rochelle shook her head. “In Europe, maybe, but in America, there are, I believe, three traceable Gaunt families. Here in England, the last Gaunt was V- I shouldn't tell you that.” She caught herself before she could say Voldemort's name. She had no fear of the name, but they sure did. Not to mention, they couldn't possibly know Voldemort's lineage.

All four of the boys perked up at her cover-up. The thin boy chimed in and said, “Shouldn’t tell us what? Who was the last Gaunt in England?” The other boys seemed to want to verbally agree with him, but Rochelle kept going and changed the subject.

“Anyway, it’s a pleasure to meet you all!” She looked a bit harder at the thin boy, taking in his steel grey eyes and his lanky limbs- Theodore Nott! That had to be who he was! Her intense gaze was misinterpreted by him to mean he shouldn’t push her for information.

Nott caught her change of subject and sat up straighter, glaring at her and opening his mouth to speak, but Draco beat him to it and decided not to push the earlier issue. “Alright, so my parents have taken in a pureblood Gaunt girl to be my new sister. Strange. I still am not clear on your intentions, but perhaps I should introduce my friends to try and be civil. I’m sure that’s what Mother had meant when she said we should get acquainted.” His body language and facial expression seemed to relent his earlier prattishness in favor of not going against his mother. He gestured to Crabbe and began, “This is-”

“Vincent Crabbe,” said Rochelle, taking a wild guess based on what they looked like in the movies. She must have gotten it right because he looked shocked. She then looked at Goyle and continued, “Gregory Goyle, and Theodore Nott. It’s a pleasure,” she smiled as if she hadn't just done something frankly creepy like know their names without even the slightest indication as to who they were.

All four boys looked at her, shocked, frozen for many moments before Nott spoke. “How did you know that?” Another moment passed as his face conveyed an internal struggle before he continued. “And what were you saying before about the Gaunt family line in England? Why can't you tell us?”

Rochelle sat into her hip, shifting her weight onto one foot as she tilted her head at Nott and placed her hands on her hips like a disappointed mother. “Oh, come on. It was said twice now. I’m a new type of seer, specifically called a Reader. How do you think I know who you all are?” That was the truth. She did know who they were based on the descriptions from the books. She actively chose to ignore the other question.

Goyle scoffed at her. “As if that explains a thing. You have to be lying, right, Vince?” He looked at the other large child.

Crabbe met his gaze and nodded at Goyle. “Has to be,” he looked back at Rochelle. “Prove it!”

Rochelle looked at Draco and smiled more gently than she had at the other three boys. “How do you want me to prove it?” She decided to leave it up to him. While she technically could withhold information from anyone she wanted, the contract did say Draco could request that the information be shared. Not that he knew that, though. She would have to let him read the contract during their big discussion later.

Draco scoffed, “I don't know why you are looking at me. But let’s start with you answering Theo’s question. What was that about the Gaunt family, and why can't you tell us?” He walked over to the chair he had been sitting in previously and regained his seat before refixing his skeptical gaze on the 11-year-old girl.

Rochelle took a moment to think. Should she tell them? She signed a contract that she would tell Draco anything he wanted, and by extension, anyone he wanted. But telling them about Voldemort could have some serious consequences. She let her smile drop as she thought before taking a breath. She walked over to the desk, grabbed the chair, and pulled it over to the others before taking a seat in it. She didn't want to encroach on any of their personal space, but she also didn't want to stand during this.

Placing her backpack on the floor next to her, she looked at Draco with serious eyes. “Just so you're aware, I mentioned a contract earlier. In that contract, it says that you, Draco Malfoy, have full access to my knowledge of the future. You’re allowed to ask that I share that information with others. However, this particular information is more knowledge of the past and present that is not even close to common knowledge. I'd even go as far as to say it's a complete secret. Based on that, I'm not sure it fits under that part of the contract, but you are asking me to share my knowledge. So I have to make sure you understand what you're asking me to do.” Her face was hardened to try and convey the seriousness of this.

Draco looked more confused now, slowly taking in the information. “What’s the big deal? Why is sharing that so dangerous? I just bloody met you and I already don't like your tone.” He glared at her. Not good. She has to make him like her.

Saying he didn't like her tone made Rochelle smile again. “It’s dangerous because it could change the future as I know it.”

It was Nott’s turn to scoff as he shook his head while smiling ruefully. “You are so full of garbage. Fine. If you can tell the future, what houses will we get into?” Smart. He understood this wasn’t the type of information that could be easily shared, and while he held the opinion that she was full of crap, he didn't take the chance that she wasn’t. But she didn't have to make Nott like her, just Draco.

Rochelle rolled her eyes and looked at Nott. “I thought you wanted to know about the last Gaunt in England. Now you want a prediction for your house? Tough. It’s not up to you.” She teased a bit. Her eyes slid back to the blonde boy. “Draco, pick which one he gets to know. I’m gonna advise against the more dangerous option. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes what houses you four will get into, so it is far safer to share that.” Her serious tone of voice lightened to something more playful.

Draco looked away and seemed to think for a few moments. He was smart. Smarter than most people gave him credit for. Sure, the need for others' approval easily influenced him, but when people got serious, he tended to make smarter choices. When he seemed to be done internally deliberating, he looked back at Rochelle. “You will tell me in private about the Gaunt in England.” That was an order. He seemed to think himself the authority between them. Which is fair, but it kinda irked her. She was supposed to be the older sibling!

Rochelle smiled a bit brighter. “I knew you would pick the smart option,” She looked back at Nott. “All four of you will be in Slytherin. As if that wasn’t obvious. And as a bonus, I’ll tell you the other Slytherins in our year. Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, and one other girl, I can’t bother to remember the name of. Satisfied?” She smirked smugly at Nott, as if that proved something. Honestly, she just looked a bit like a know-it-all.

The boy in question was glaring at Rochelle as he reluctantly nodded. Crabbe shook his head and said, “But I wanted to know the other thing! Everyone knew what houses we would get in. We are purebloods. That hardly proves anything, right?” he looked at Goyle for support, who nodded emphatically.

Rolling her eyes, Rochelle looked back at Draco and decided to take a different approach. “The contract also states that I will assist you with practical spellcasting, at the request of your mom.” She reached down and opened her backpack before pulling out her notebook and holding it up. “This is filled with all of my research and studying on spells that I could collect before I got my wand. I think I can cast everything inside. If I’m lying about being a Reader, lying about everything I claim, then I won't be able to perform anything here. Let's put it to the test. Shall we?” She smirked as she stood up and walked over to Draco. “This notebook is my most prized possession. It never leaves my side. Nobody is allowed to look inside it without my permission or me in the room. I’m gonna let you look through the list of spells I know and pick one for me to do for you. You’re not allowed to pick anything dangerous. Does all of this sound fair?” She looked over at Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle for confirmation of her question. She didn’t need it, but she was trying to prove herself to all four of them. So she decided to check anyway.

Draco seemed to also be waiting for their approval, specifically Nott’s, before he snatched the notebook out of Rochelle’s hands rather roughly and opened it once he got the answer from Nott that he wanted. His eyes widened at the spells inside. “Merlin’s beard! There is no way you know all of these! You're only our age! Seriously?” Quickly, the other three boys practically shoved Rochelle out of the way to look at the book. She was shoved so hard that she landed on the ground rather hard.

She glared up at the boys angrily as they flipped through her book. Standing up and brandishing her wand, she cast Accio on the book, making it fly past the floundering boys and snap right into her hand. She then angrily said in a rather loud voice, “I thought I said it never leaves my side and you can’t read it without my permission!” She was glaring at the boys and fuming so hard you could practically see steam coming out of her ears. Apparently, that shocked the boys, because they just looked at her with wide eyes and mouths agape. She then put her wand in its holster and gripped the book tightly in her arms, hugging it as she sat back in her chair. “Forget it. I don't have to prove anything to anyone. God forbid anyone respect me and my belongings.” She huffed a bit and held the book tightly. What was she thinking? Trusting adults with something this precious was one thing, but handing it over to a bunch of kids was ludicrous. From now on, it will literally never leave her side. Not even to let Draco look at it.

Before the four shocked boys could collect themselves, there was a knock at the door, and as none of them seemed like they were going to answer, Rochelle put her notebook in her backpack and closed it, swinging it on her back as she walked up to the door before opening it to reveal Dobby. The Elf looked up at Rochelle and whimpered, jumping at the mere sight of her and cowering. She smiled warmly, sadly, at him before beckoning him inside. “Come in, Dobby, what is it?” She felt a bit bad about having scared him so much.

Dobby looked even more frightened at the sweet tone in her voice. He seemed to be having a hard time speaking. So much so that it took him too long to answer. Draco regained his composure and spat his words at the elf. “Why are you so scared, elf?” he looked at Nott and added, “he doesn't even cower like that in front of Father.”

Rochelle heard him and took a breath to hold back her irritation at them before looking at the four boys and saying, “he's probably scared because I knew his name, like I did all of you.” She paused before nonchalantly adding, “Oh, and I had cast the cruciatus curse in front of him.” She smirked a bit at the looks that she earned from the boys. She turned back to Dobby and crouched down to his level. She spoke softly and refrained from reaching out to comfort the terrified elf. “Don’t worry, Dobby, I’m not going to hurt you. What is it you need?” She tried to make her voice as comforting as possible. She felt her gut wrench at seeing a character she kinda liked from the books cower before her, because of her.

Dobby didn't seem to find any comfort in her voice or actions, but he did manage to collect himself a bit. He looked at all the children and said, “Dobby has been told to tell the children dinner is ready.” He was slightly trembling, his hands wringing together as a form of self-soothing.

Rochelle reached out to pat his head. She paused when he flinched, but patted his head anyway. “Thank you, Dobby. Could you bring me to my room first? I want to put my bag away before heading down.”

Dobby looked startled by not being immediately hit, but he nodded, saying, “Of course. If young mistress Rochelle would be so kind as to follow Dobby.” He now looked confused as he led the way out of the room.

Rochelle stood up and looked at the four boys once more with a smirk on her face. “I’ll see you all at dinner then.” She grabbed Aether, who was still sitting in her cage by the door, and followed Dobby out of Draco’s bedroom to find her own.

Chapter Text

The trip to Rochelle’s new room is a quiet one. It takes a bit longer than she would like to get there, but she doesn’t complain. She spends most of the time petting Aether through the bars of her cage and making sure she appears as harmless as possible in case Dobby looks at her.

Eventually, they get there, and Dobby opens the door for her. “This is young Mistress Rochelle’s bedroom.” He keeps looking at the floor. A little whimper leaves his mouth as she walks into the room and past him. She looks around and takes in the large bedroom. Her mouth hangs open in awe. There is a large, four-poster bed, a sitting area like Draco’s, a desk, and two other doors that are presumably a closet and a bathroom. She gets her own bathroom! This is so freaking cool!

She can’t contain her joy as she walks over to the desk and sets Aether down on it before giggling and walking around the room, truly taking in its size. The walls were a dark pink, and the floors a dark brown. There was a black, fluffy carpet in the sitting area with couches and chairs that were a dusty pink. She’d have to change the pinks in the room later, but it will do for now. She walked over to the bed and took off her backpack, setting it on the dusty pink comforter and looking at Dobby. “Could you help me unpack? I wanna get settled in as soon as I can before heading to dinner.” She smiled brightly at the small elf.

Dobby entered the room, wringing his hands together as he responded, “Of course, young mistress.” He then walked up to her and the bed, looking for whatever it was that she needed to unpack.

She opened her backpack wide and pulled out the bags she had gotten while shopping, and set them on the bed for Dobby to take. She does the same with all of her books and school supplies. The only things she leaves in the bag are what it originally had when she basically spawned into this universe. She takes out her notebook and draws her wand, casting “ reducio ” on it and effectively shrinking it before placing it into her pocket and sheathing her wand. She looks at Dobby and says, “Leave the backpack on the bed. It’s really important that I know where it is at all times. The rest of this stuff can go wherever you think it belongs. I’m not picky.” She smiles down at him before walking to the sitting area and plopping herself down on a comfy-looking couch.

Dobby nods and gets right to work, placing her school robes and cloak in the closet and the rest of her things in their respective places. Rochelle is watching him work while she thinks. Dobby is important to the story, sure, but she’s meeting him before Harry even knows he exists. He’s currently working for the family she is living with, and by extension, her. Maybe she can just order him to act out the part he plays? But withholding Harry’s letters and nearly killing Harry at the Quidditch match isn’t good at all. Despite his efforts, Harry still goes to school and stays there the whole year. The only thing that comes out of second year for Dobby is his freedom. But what is the main important role he plays? That has to be saving all those locked in the dungeons of the manor in the 7th book. That results in Dobby dying, but he saves everyone successfully.

Wait. Hold on just a hot freaking second. If Rochelle is treated as a member of the Malfoy family, that means she has the power to order Dobby to do anything she wants. If she can just order him to save everyone, if they even get captured in the first place, maybe she can be specific enough to prevent his death! If she could control what he does, she could be careful enough to save his life, but not diminish his importance to the plot! But wait, Lucius could always just override her order since he is the head of the house and his orders take priority. She’s going to have to be the only one he takes orders from if this is going to work. And with that, she has a plan for the friendly elf.

While said elf is working, with periodic glances at Rochelle, it is clear something is on his mind, and he is holding back questions. With a warm smile, the girl sits up from the plush couch and gives him more of her attention as she says, “I can tell you want to say something. What’s on your mind, Dobby? You can speak freely.”

Dobby tenses up and looks at her with a face full of fear and apprehension. His large eyes seemed even larger in his fearful expression. However, being not one to go against an order, even one posed as a question, he reluctantly responds. “It’s just that, miss. Dobby would like to know if it is all right with the young mistress, and how she came to know Dobby’s name. Dobby is also wondering why she is being nice to Dobby and didn't hurt him with the Cruciatus curse.” He finished putting everything away and apprehensively walked over to Rochelle to get the response.

She sighed a bit through her nose and nodded in understanding. Of course, he has to be wondering that. But she didn't really wanna repeat the whole thing again, so she simply started by asking, “Did someone explain to you who I am and why I’m here?” Dobby nodded quickly, but refrained from responding verbally. “Well, I know your name because you’re important. In my Readings, you’re a very important elf, Dobby. I can’t hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m being nice because I care about you. I know it's gotta be confusing, but it's the honest truth.” Dobby seemed to relax and look up at her hopefully. She chuckled softly and decided to get his permission instead of just doing everything without his consent. “How would you like it if you didn't have to work for the Malfoy family anymore? You wouldn’t be hurt or mistreated anymore, right?”

Dobby, for a moment, seemed like he was about to jump at the chance, but instead shook his head. “Dobby should not ask to be free. That would be a bad Dobby.”

Rochelle’s face fell a bit. She didn't mean to make him think she was going to free him. That was a mistake in phrasing. Now she feels like shit. She shook her head softly. “No, I didn't mean I’d free you. What I meant was, would you like to work for me and only me? I’m technically part of the family now, right? The thing is, I’m new to being rich and living in a big house. I need someone I can trust to help me fit in better. I could really use a servant like you.” She took a breath before saying very clearly, “I’m asking for your permission to buy you off the Malfoys. I want your honest thoughts. I can’t free you, or they’ll get mad at me, and I can’t have that when I just got here.”

Dobby’s eyes widened before he looked away, looking around and searching frantically for something. Oh shit, he’s going to hurt himself! Rochelle quickly got up, grabbed his wrists, and quickly said, “No hurting yourself, Dobby. Answer me, please.” Her gaze was pleading. She wanted this to go smoothly. She could have just forced him and not gotten his permission, but even the idea of having a servant felt wrong. If she could come up with something later that would allow her to set him free, she would do it, but for now, this is the best she has.

Dobby looked up at Rochelle and was breathing heavily. He clearly still wanted to punish himself for even thinking about trying to be free, but he followed her order anyway. “Dobby should not speak ill of his master. B-but Dobby would very much like to not be treated like vermin. If young mistress Rochelle is saying she will not hurt Dobby, then Dobby would like to serve her.” Rochelle had to hold back from showing how much she cringed at being told someone would like to serve her. But she should try to get used to it quickly.

She sighed and let go of his wrists. She nodded her head and said, “In that case, I’ll ask at dinner. Hopefully they just give you to me, but I might have to buy you off them.” She stood up straight and rolled her shoulders and neck, trying to forcefully relax. She looked back at Dobby with a smile. “From now on, please call me Rochelle or Miss Rochelle. I don’t like being called a mistress. Like I said earlier, I’m new to this whole being rich thing, so I’m new to having servants too.”

Dobby seemed reluctant to follow this order. It’s not what he was trained to call his masters, but it was an order nonetheless, so he nodded his head. “Of course, Miss Rochelle. Dobby wants to make you feel comfortable in Malfoy Manor.”

Rochelle smiled a bit brighter and started walking to the door as she said, “Perfect! Now, if you’ll just lead the way to the dining room for me, that’d be great! Oh, and while I’m eating, could you take care of Aether? That’s my owl. I’m sure she would like to be let out of the cage and eat something.” She opened the door and motioned for Dobby to leave the room before her so he could lead the way.

Dobby followed the silent instruction as he replied, “Yes, ma’am. Dobby will make sure Miss Aether is well cared for while Miss Rochelle is eating dinner.” He walked out of the room and waited for Rochelle to close the door before leading the way to the dining room.

The pair walked up to an ornate set of double doors. Rochelle looked down at Dobby and said, “Thanks for leading the way. I appreciate it a ton. This place is so big, I'll probably get lost a lot.”

Dobby looked up and smiled at her. The elf who, moments ago, was terrified of this child, was now smiling at her as he replied, “Dobby was happy to help Miss Rochelle. It is Dobby’s pleasure. Dobby will go and take care of Miss Aether now. Miss Rochelle should call Dobby if she needs anything else.”

Rochelle reached for the door and nodded before opening it and walking inside a bit warily. Upon entering, she allowed herself to look around the room briefly. It was dark, like the rest of the house. The table in the center of the room is rather simple in comparison to how fancy everything in the manor seemed to be. The tablecloth is a neutral grey, as if they couldn’t pick between white or black, so they went smack in the middle for the color. Despite the dark base of the room, it was a touch more lively than the drawing room due to the number of flowers decorating various spaces. There was also a large window on the long side of the room, rendering the extravagant candle chandelier useless at this time of day. Why they had a chandelier and not just floating candles, because they’re magical, would have to be one of those questions that will be left unanswered.

Once inside the room fully, Rochelle closed the door behind her and smiled kindly at the family seated at the table. Lucius was, of course, sitting at the head of the table with Draco to his right, almost midway down the long side of the table. Narcissa was sitting at the foot, and mirroring Draco, there was an empty seat with the tableware set. The lack of Goyle, Crabbe, and Nott didn’t go unnoticed.

Narcissa was the first to speak. Her voice was just as friendly and warm as before. Rochelle must have really made a good impression on her. It was still rather unnerving that she was being so friendly. “Rochelle, dear! I do hope your bedroom is to your liking. Have the elves treated you well?” With the lady of the house addressing the new occupant of the room, Lucius and Draco turned their heads to look at her. Draco still seemed apprehensive about her presence in the house, but he appeared to get over the shock and awe he had when she had last seen him. Lucius had this strange, small smile. It wasn’t quite a smirk, but it wasn’t as warm as it should be. He seemed to be…happy she was there? Man, these people are confusing Rochelle with how easily she has gained their favor. But she can’t drop her guard. Not now, or ever. Not with this family.

Rochelle maintained her smile and walked over to what she presumed was her seat. “Oh yes, it's perfect! I was wondering if I had permission to change the accent color from pink to something else, though. And Dobby has done a great job. He led me where I needed to go and even unpacked my things for me. He’s taking care of my owl right now for me.” She sat down at the table and looked at all the utensils. She had a momentary pause as she realized she was going to have to take etiquette lessons. She didn't know which spoon, fork, or knife to use. And if she didn't know how to eat in a rich home, there have to be other things she doesn’t know how to do properly.

Narcissa nodded her head. “Of course, you can change the color of your room. It is yours from now on. You can make it look however you would like. I am pleased to hear you were treated with the proper respect befitting a new member of our home.”

Rochelle made a point of looking around the table. “Where did Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle go? I assumed they were joining us for dinner when Dobby had come to get us.” She looked between Lucius and Narcissa, not knowing which would answer her question.

It was Lucius, saying, “They have returned home to dine with their own families. It would be quite informal to host Draco’s friends when it is your first dinner with us.” He took a sip of his wine before motioning to one of the elves who was standing on the side of the room. That must have been the signal to bring out the food, because with a snap of the elf's fingers, the table was covered with a variety of food. “We were unsure of your preferences, so please do forgive if there is nothing to your liking.”

Rochelle kept smiling sweetly, despite the clench in her stomach telling her this kindness was out of place and just plain wrong. “I’m grateful. Thank you. I’m sure that anything served is more than enough for me.” She began loading her plate with what she thought might taste good of the fancy-looking food.

Draco decided to speak up now, seemingly unable to remain quiet any longer. “Father, why are you being so friendly to this stranger? Mother, why are you treating her like she’s really your child? You have a child already, and that’s me! Both of you are acting strange!” The tension in the air was palpable. His words seemed to irritate both of the adults. Rochelle couldn’t help but tense up. She knew he would be some level of hostile, but to call out both of his parents like this? She thought that by now, he had a healthy level of fear for his parents. She knew he was spoiled, but seriously? Maybe Harry’s first assessment of him was right. Maybe he is kinda like Dudley.

“Hold your tongue, Draco. The situation has been explained to you multiple times. If you are unable to understand and accept things as they are at this point, then perhaps you are more asinine than I previously thought,” Lucius barked. He glared at the child who shrank into his chair. Draco clearly didn't like how his father reacted. He idolized the man, and seeing him act strangely and then yell at Draco for complaining about it, hit the boy hard. “For your blatant disrespect to me, your mother, and our new ward, you are forbidden from interacting with your friends for the rest of the summer.” Draco opened his mouth to protest, but instantly shut it again after receiving a pointed glare from his father.

”It’s alright, Mr. Malfoy. I understand why he’s upset. I wouldn’t like it if some random orphan showed up at my doorstep and declared themselves my sibling.” Rochelle now looked at Draco and said with a gentle tone and a warm smile, "I don't expect you to be ok with this right away. And you may not believe me, but I’ve been fond of you for quite a while. I know a lot about you. Not everything, but enough to have an opinion.”

”Since you have already stated you know us well, perhaps it is our turn to learn more about you.” Narcissa says with a smile on her face and a glare in her eyes directed at Draco. She then looked at Rochelle and began the questioning. “Personally, I'm quite interested in your unusual hair color. It doesn’t appear to be charmed.”

Rochelle froze. She hasn't thought about her hair. She knew it was brown and red like it was in her old life, but back then, it was bleached and dyed. She has no memories of her life in this world before shopping in Diagon. She had no idea why her hair looked like that, and she hadn't questioned it because it just looked like her . She began trying to rapidly search her brain for an answer to Narcissa, and just like when she first arrived, when the mind fog cleared, and when she finally figured out her place in the world, the information just popped into her head at the forefront of her mind. “Oh, I'm actually a metamorphmagus.” The words left her mouth before she could even fully register what they were. 

Draco seemed to have the same questions as Rochelle herself did. “You’re a what? What’s a meta-whatever it's called? How does that explain your hair?” His face changed from all the emotions he was feeling before to simple confusion and intrigue.

After thinking for a moment, Rochelle remembered what a metamorphmagus was. Someone with the natural ability to change their physical characteristics. Tonks was one, and so was her son Teddy. They’re supposed to be super rare, right? Nobody knows what causes people to be born with the ability. But upon her deeper reflection, Rochelle speculated it's due to all the inbreeding. Genetics and such. If most of the wizarding world in Britain were somehow related to each other, it would make sense that one ability or another would be rare. The gene pool isn’t big enough to make it. Maybe that’s how Tonks is one, because her dad is a Muggleborn. New genes.

She looked to Narcissa when she had originally spoken, and now back to Draco to reply, “It's someone born with the ability to change how they look. I don’t have a ton of control over it yet, but I can change my hair and eye color pretty easily.” She didn't actually know if she could, so she decided to try. She closed her eyes and focused for a moment. She wanted her eyes to be bright green, like Harry’s are often described to be. She wanted her hair to keep its ombré, but change the brown to purple and the red to pink. When she opened her eyes, she smiled at Draco's shocked face. When she glanced down, the red of her hair was now pink, so she assumed the rest of the changes she wanted also happened.

All Draco seemed to say was “whoa” as his mouth gaped and his eyes widened in surprise and bewilderment. Rochelle couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction. She took a bite of food while she let the shock settle in the room.

The two adults also seemed to be in shock, because Narcissa cleared her throat before she spoke, as if composing herself. “I see. May I ask what your natural colors are? Not that bright pink and purple hair and green eyes aren’t beautiful. I'm simply curious.” Rochelle then changed her hair and eyes easily back to what they were before, swallowed her bite of food, and looked at Narcissa.

”Minus the red, this is. The red always felt more like me. Not the solid brown. I don't often change how I look, but it's fun to make people smile with my ability. At the orphanage, I often let the other kids make requests of me. It was fun making the little kids laugh when I made my hair and eyes funky-looking colors and patterns.” She didn't even know if it was true. The words fell out as if they were the most natural truth she knew. 

The conversation continued with Narcissa asking about Rochelle’s interests. She shared her affection for music, dancing, and art. She talked about how she loves both playing music and listening to it. They will more than likely hear her singing around the manor often. When she asked for space of her own where she can indulge in these hobbies, they of course said yes. It was like they were willing to bend over backward to make her feel welcome and accepted. If this was how she was received, what was with all the reluctance to agree to this in the first place?

If they were going to be this generous, maybe they'll agree to her more hefty request. She looks at Lucius with a respectful smile. “Mr. Malfoy, if it's not too much of a bother, would it be ok to make Dobby my personal elf? If you don't want to just give him to me, I'm willing to buy him from you.”

Lucius’ face fell a bit from the comfortable expression it was wearing previously. “Perhaps. However, I would like to know why you are making this request.”

Rochelle nodded. She had prepared her reasoning before, so hopefully they buy it like Dobby did. “While I do have money, I wasn't able to access it until I got to the UK, so I'm not used to living in a rich household with a rich family. The house is so big, and I'm sure you have noticed, but you are too nice to point it out. I don't have the proper manners expected of a pureblood. It would put me at ease to have a personal servant to help me in the areas in which I'm lacking. I would also benefit from having someone I can trust to keep my secrets the way house elves do.” She reached for her wand and quietly summoned her coin pouch from her room, which snapped right into her hand. “I assure you, I have enough to buy him properly,” she looked at him with pleading eyes.

Lucius seemed to be thinking rather hard, considering his options. Eventually, he nodded his head and put a hand out, palm facing Rochelle as he said, “No money required. I admire your dedication to ensuring you fit into this family well. As you are not magically part of this family, I will transfer him to you after dinner. He will no longer be a Malfoy elf after today.” His face lifted back to the contentment that was present before. There was even a small spark of pride, as though he knew this had to make him look good in the eyes of his wife and this new little girl in his care.

Rochelle beamed up at him as she put the coin pouch into her pocket and happily said, “Really? Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!” She giggled happily as she thought about how happy Dobby was going to be. It wasn't proper freedom, but he wouldn't be treated like trash anymore, so he had to be some kind of happy, right?

After a short while of conversation, Rochelle catches an expression on Draco’s face like he is thinking about something rather hard. He's playing with his food using his fork when he opens his mouth to speak. “Mother, Father. Might I ask about something that’s been bothering me?” His gaze remains on his food, as if nervous about their reactions.

Lucius glances once at Narcissa before studying Draco. He must have seen what he was looking for, because he responded with a simple, “You may.”

Draco swallowed thickly. He didn't ask his question right away, and based on Rochelle’s own experiences, he must be trying to choose his words carefully. “I’ve been wondering why you both have been so accepting of this- of Rochelle. It strikes me as strange. A young girl shows up on our doorstep, asks to be taken in, and even if a contract is involved, you both agreed.” He closed his eyes and took a breath. The more he spoke, the more heated he seemed to be getting. It was rather admirable how well he was doing at controlling his emotions and reactions. Eventually, he opened his eyes and continued. “I don't understand why she is suddenly being welcomed as part of the family. Neither of you is acting normal. You're being more personable than you typically are with guests, and it makes me rather uncomfortable. You even gave her an elf.”

Rochelle paused. She knew Draco was feeling this way, but his addressing it in a more mature manner than he already had made her feel even more guilty. He was right. From the perspective of an only child, it was like she was taking his parents away from him. She looked down at her food as he spoke, and once he was done, she let a beat pass in the room before she practically cut off anyone who was about to speak. “I think that's a discussion I shouldn't be present for. You're right, Draco. I'm an outsider. I’m grateful to be received so openly, but some conversations are for the real family only.” She looked at Lucius and smiled softly as she asked, “May I be excused?”

Lucius nodded as Narcissa responded. “Of course, Dear. I will check on you before bed to discuss anything else that needs to be discussed.” And immediately, Rochelle stood from her seat and retreated out of the room as quickly as she could without running. Her head was swimming with more thoughts than she knew what to do with. It was like the guilt of what she was doing and how it affected Draco was the last pebble to hit the dam of her thoughts and emotions throughout the day before it broke.

Once the door closed behind her, she sprinted as fast as she could, the way she remembered traveling on her way to the dining room. Her eyes stung. She could feel tears just below the surface, but she couldn’t let them fall yet. She had to tell Dobby the good news before she could let herself feel anything. She had said she would let herself freak out later. Guess later is now.

Once she found her room again, she told Dobby he would be her elf, tied to her magic, by the end of the day. He was overjoyed. Unfortunately, Rochelle still needed to freak out alone, so she thanked him for taking care of Aether, who was on a perch that was new in the room, and dismissed him. Once he left, she curled up on her new bed and just sobbed.

The anxiety she was repressing throughout the day came back with a vengeance. Not just about how she would never be able to go home, but with what her new future actually held. She would have to be responsible with her knowledge of the future. She would have to plan. She had to save Harry from the Dursleys, which meant she had to clear Sirius and set him free. She would have to turn into Dumbledore with how manipulative she was going to need to be. She hates Dumbledore for his lies and manipulation.

Rochelle hates lies fundamentally, so she vows to herself never to lie. If she can’t tell the truth, she will just tell whoever it is that’s asking that she can’t tell them. But she would refuse to lie. She also made a vow to eventually share everything, but on a need-to-know basis. She wouldn’t make the mistake of revealing information too soon, because that could majorly fuck up the future. If she messes with the chain of events too much, the future could change so drastically that she won't be able to predict anything, and she can’t save anyone at all.

Her mind keeps spiraling as she lets herself just cry for about two hours before she is calm enough to start properly planning. She takes her shrunken notebook out of her pocket and unshrinks it with “ engorgio ” before a thought hits her. She doesn’t want what happened with Draco and his friends to happen again, and while she could just keep it on her at all times, her notebook will still be in danger of being read if she is asleep or someone summons it away from her. She needs some kind of ward on it. Maybe even something to put a curse on anyone who reads it? But then she would be in danger. She doesn’t want to have to take the ward and curse off each time she wants to read it or let someone else read it. She wants it to just work intuitively with her mind. Meaning she needs to connect it to herself somehow. And what about when the pages get filled? Maybe she could make it never-ending, like the Death Note in that one anime? This will require a lot of research.

Chapter Text

~Draco~

When Rochelle left dinner the other night, Mother and Father gave Draco a calm but detailed enough explanation for their behavior. Apparently, this random orphan girl had skills that Mother and Father thought could be an asset to the Malfoy family. They wanted to win her over, so they were deliberately overly welcoming and affectionate.

That seemed to be the extent of Father's reasoning. Mother, on the other hand, added that she had always wanted a daughter. She knew there was no reason to have more children after Draco because Draco was a boy and thus the heir. However, she loved having sisters growing up and always wished she could have a baby girl. She saw Rochelle as a second chance to have a daughter.

Draco could concede defeat and accept that Rochelle was now a member of the family, if only via contract. But that didn't mean he trusted her enough to be so open and welcoming like his parents. So, for the last three days, he'd been watching her.

She spent most of her time in the library doing some kind of research. She spent so much time there that Draco was sure she hadn't slept at all in these past three days. Dobby kept bringing her meals and potions that must have helped her stay awake.

A few times, Draco had woken up in the middle of the night to spy on Rochelle in case she was doing her secret, nefarious things in the cover of night. Unfortunately for a tired Draco, she just continued reading in the library, even in the dead of night.

Draco didn't know what it was she was researching; he could never get close enough to read the books she grabbed or the notes she was taking. She always had that notebook, she said was her prized possession, but she never wrote in it. She kept asking Dobby for more and more parchment instead. It just lay there on the table next to her the entire time, never leaving her side.

Occasionally, Rochelle would attempt to cast some kind of spell on her notebook. More often than not, nothing would happen. On the times when something did happen, her magic went wild, and the parchment around her duplicated into a near-tsunami of sheets. Whatever she was working on, it had to have something to do with duplication.

On the fateful day of June 3rd, something changed. Draco was yet again watching this strange girl from behind a bookshelf in the library when she seemed to cast a spell on her notebook yet again. To Draco’s eyes, it seemed like nothing happened, but Rochelle picked up the notebook and flipped through it a few times.

Suddenly, Rochelle was beaming brightly and yelled out, “Holy crap, I did it!” That must be some muggle phrase or something. Why would excrement be blessed by a god? It had to mean a good thing based on the way she jumped up, putting the notebook and her wand on the table, and began dancing and jumping up and down. She kept repeating “I did it~ I did it~” in this soft, sing-song voice.

Eventually, she stopped her dancing and chanting and grabbed her notebook with both hands, looking at it admiringly. She spoke so softly that Draco could barely hear her. What he did here startled him quite a bit, “Oh my God, I just made a spell to make a notebook never-ending.” 

She what ? Did she just say she created a spell? Rochelle is 11 years old for Merlin’s sake. There is no possible way a mere child created a spell, seemingly from scratch, in only three days. Despite how unbelievable it was, it must be true, because Draco then watched as Rochelle took all the notes and research she had on parchment from the last three days and transferred them into her special notebook. Page after page after page got written on and flipped. But it didn't get filled.

After disposing of the now useless parchment, Rochelle then seemed to do another sort of studying. She didn't grab any books, just kept writing in her notebook and flipping through the pages. Occasionally, she would place one of the thin ribbon bookmarks attached to the book between the pages before she continued writing. It seemed, based on how many times she used those ribbon bookmarks, that the pages weren't the only thing that was never-ending. There continued to be free bookmarks to use. No matter how much she wrote, no matter how many bookmarks she used, the book's thickness never changed.

Draco had left her alone the rest of the day and night. But the next morning, after breakfast, Draco decided he would like to practice flying instead of spying on Rochelle. She seemed to have other thoughts on the matter as she stopped him at the door to the back garden.

Rochelle ran up to him in a jog with her notebook, of course, in one of her hands. The ribbon bookmarks could be seen sticking out of the bottom of the book. She must have cast some color-changing charms on them because previously, they were all black. Now, though, it was like a rainbow was spilling out of the sleek black notebook with how many colors of varying shades the ribbons were changed to.

She didn't seem to want to waste time, as the moment she reached Draco, she said, “I think it’s time we have a long talk.”

~Rochelle~

Rochelle needed to find Draco. His birthday was tomorrow, and she still hadn't talked to him about everything she needed to. She saw him watching her a few times, but she was too busy trying to make that spell that she didn't have time to talk.

She eventually found him heading outside and quickly called out his name. She jogged up to him and immediately said, “I think it’s time we have a long talk.”

Draco's eyes scanned over her and paused briefly at her notebook in her hand before going back to her face. He tilted his head a bit and raised an eyebrow. “What on earth could we have to talk about?” His tone of voice exuded his clear feelings; he most definitely did not want to talk to her.

Rochelle rolled her eyes. God, he had to be the stupidest smart kid she's ever had the displeasure of meeting. How was he in the top percentile of his grade in the books when he can't even remember a conversation from 4 days ago? And that damn attitude. She's gonna have to snap him out of being a prat pretty freaking quickly if she didn't wring his neck first.

She released a dramatic sigh as she opened the back cover of her notebook and pulled out a piece of paper, unfolded it, and held it out to Draco. “This is the contract. The one that's the reason I'm here. Read it. Then try and remember the fact that you said we would talk back when your friends were over and we first met. ‘What on earth could we have to talk about’ my butt. This conversation could last all day.”

Draco took the contract from her and began reading. His brows furrowed as he read, and once he was done, he held it back out to her. “Right. I had forgotten you mentioned my having access to your knowledge. But tutoring me in practical magic?” Draco crossed his arms over his chest and scoffed, lifting his nose a bit. “No matter what you tell me, I won't be learning magic from the likes of you.”

Rochelle took the contract and put it back in its place within her notebook. Hearing Draco's last comment caused Rochelle to roll her eyes so hard her neck rolled with them, and an exasperated groan left her mouth. She looked back at the very punchable boy and said in a clipped tone, “Whatever. You'll change your mind eventually, so I honestly don't care right now. But you will follow me to my room so we can talk, and you will sit and engage in the conversation until we both decide it's done.”

She turned and began walking, but she didn't hear him following, so she turned around to look back at him. His eyes had gone wide, and his mouth hung open slightly. Either he's shocked because she hasn't acted that way in front of him before, or because nobody has ever spoken to him that way. Regardless, this earned a soft huff from Rochelle. “Catching flies, are you?” She said as she grabbed his wrist and dragged him along behind her.

Once they arrived at her room, Draco shook out of her grip, seemingly regaining his composure. She closed the door and cast “ muffliato ” on the room before walking to the sitting area and plopping down on the couch lazily. She changed the accent color from pink to a mixture of greens and blues. Her childhood bedroom was themed that way, with bright and happy greens, blues, and white. But now her new bedroom was darker shades like kelly and forest greens, royal and midnight blues, and black.

Draco loudly made his way over to the sitting area, practically stomping like a toddler. He sat heavily in one of the chairs and leaned back, crossing his arms. “Well? Get on with it. I want to go flying sometime today. Which is what I was doing before I was so rudely interrupted and dragged away.”

Rochelle couldn't help but giggle. “Buckle up, buttercup. This is gonna be a long convo.” She looked at Draco and noticed his raised eyebrow. She sighed and placed her notebook on the coffee table in front of her before sitting back comfortably. “Assume from now on that anything I say that sounds strange to you is either American, Muggle, or both. Basically, I just said to settle in and get ready to be here for a while.” He slowly nodded, but he kept eyeing her strangely.

Clearing her throat, Rochelle got ready for a lot of talking. “So, to start with, I'll explain my ability in more detail. Know why I call myself a Reader instead of a Seer, and why I say ‘my readings’ instead of what I've ‘seen’?”

Draco shook his head. “Something about how you're a new type of Seer, I'd assume.” He glanced around the room, taking in what Rochelle had done to the place. “Your color sense is better than I would have thought, given the clothes you arrived here in.”

Rochelle chose to ignore the dig at the end there. “Thanks. I am an artist after all. Artists tend to have a sense of color. Anyway, back on topic. Basically, I don't get prophetic vision. Everything I know about the future is just information in my head. The only way I can describe it is that it's kinda like remembering a storybook you've read a million times. You remember every detail of the story. To be specific, it's all separated by year. One year for each book.”

As she spoke, Rochelle studied Draco's features. She hasn't had the chance to get a proper look at him yet. He didn't look quite like Tom Felton, but he looked enough like him for Rochelle to have recognized him at first glance. That seemed to be a recurring theme with the people she's met so far. They all look just enough like their movie counterparts that Rochelle can recognize them, but just enough not like them so she doesn't project her thoughts and feelings about the actors onto these very real book characters.

Draco looked intrigued by her explanation. “A story book? Sounds like you're describing more of a series than a single book. Does that mean there's a main character? Is that why you're here to help me? Am I the main character?” A smile spread across his face as the questions spilled out of his mouth. Man, this kid thinks rather highly of himself. Guess it doesn't help that Rochelle is here to help him.

She shook her head and chuckled softly. “No, Draco, you're not the main character. That would be Harry Potter.” Here we go. If he doesn't bring up the thing about the last Gaunt in England, this is where the storytelling and explanation get started.

Draco lost his smile when he was told he wasn't the main character. The moment the name Harry Potter left Rochelle's lips, he had a shocked look back on his face. “Harry Potter? The Harry Potter? The-boy-who-lived? Defeated the Dark Lord when he was only an infant? That Harry Potter?”

Nodding her head, Rochelle continued. “The one and only. Since he's the main character of the book series that is my ability, he's the one I know the most about. That includes how he first meets everyone I know things about, his thoughts and feelings on them, and every situation he will be in for the next seven years.” She let it settle for a few moments, letting Draco process the information.

Once he did, Draco said, “You had mentioned the other night at dinner that you knew a lot about me and were fond of me. What does that mean for my role in...your books? I'm not sure how to refer to your ability and be accurate.” His speech and demeanor were much better than before. This must be interesting to him because he wasn't currently acting like an insufferable prat.

Rochelle took a deep breath and braced herself to break his poor little heart. “Sorry, but your role was actually more of an antagonist. Not the big bad guy, but-” She paused and looked at the poor 10-year-old boy sadly. “I'm really sorry, Draco. You and Harry hated each other and were rivals. I know how much you want to be his friend.”

Draco's face fell for a few moments before his brows furrowed in confusion. “Were? Not will be?” Rochelle wondered if he would catch that. The fact that he did made her smile a bit in pride.

“Right. That's one of the things I'm hoping to change. I firmly believe that if you actually become Harry's friend, your role in the story will change and hopefully won't be so ill-fated.” She was still smiling, even as Draco's face relaxed into mild fear. His face grew pale.

“Ill-fated? What…what exactly happens to me?” He looked even more scared than Rochelle expected of him. It just goes to show she can't let herself forget he's only just a child. He isn't like her, since while she is physically a child, she is mentally an adult.

Looking down briefly at her hands and fidgeting with them, she cautiously chose her words. “We have a lot to cover today, so I'll only give a summary. For most of your schooling years, you and Harry were rivals. You actually go out of your way many times to bully him and his friends. You relish in every bad thing that happens to Harry and only seem to change when things get more serious.” She looks up to see his reaction. To gauge if he can handle what she is about to say.

He looks sad, and maybe a bit miffed, but he doesn't look distraught. Rochelle took a breath to prepare herself for that inevitability. “A war is coming. You and Harry had been on opposing sides. Sixth year is when things got serious.” She paused and looked at her notebook, which held the contract. “I gave your parents a vague prophecy about the fate I want to change for you. It's what made them even consider taking me in and letting me help you. But I'm going to tell you the real thing, not censor it.”

She looked back at him with a fortified expression. “You-Know-Who is coming back, and in the summer after fifth year, he’s going to try and make you a proper Death Eater with the Dark Mark.” She stopped talking when she noticed Draco starting to panic. She shouldn't have told him that. He's just a kid! What was she thinking? Rochelle moved closer to him a bit and softly spoke. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just dropped that on you. Are you ok? Deep breaths.”

He was starting to breathe heavily. Sure, he was raised in a way that he knew his parents followed Voldemort, but he was still taught not to break the law. He knew Death Eaters were criminals, and he knew what happened to them: Azkaban. He must be thinking all sorts of things, like what being a Death Eater means for him.

Rochelle reached out and took his hand warmly. “Draco, look at me.” His eyes met hers. They were filled with so much panic, they almost glazed over. “I'm not going to let that happen.” Her voice was soft, yet strong. Resolute. She meant it. “Remember how I said I'm fond of you based on what I know?” He nodded his head, slowly starting to control his breathing with deep and long breaths. “I'm skipping ahead here, but so many things happened that showed who you truly are. You're not some evil bully Death Eater. You were able to show enough of who you are to Harry that after the war, he defended you in your trials, and you didn't go to Azkaban.” She squeezed his hand warmly.

This seemed to calm him down a bit. It took a few more moments of controlled breathing and Rochelle squeezing his hand, rubbing against the back of it in comfort before Draco calmed down enough to think. Silence reigned in the room for a solid few minutes before Draco spoke. “I'm not saying I believe you. But…can you tell me about Harry? What's he like?” Clearly, he couldn't handle the learning of his future yet, so Rochelle welcomed the subject change.

She thought for a moment and smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. “Harry…he's caring, brave, stubborn, kinda an idiot sometimes.” Draco laughed a bit at that, which made Rochelle laugh too. “He's been through a lot. He wouldn't like it if I told you everything in his private life, so I'll have to wait to tell you at a more appropriate time, or he tells you himself.”

Draco looked a bit concerned at her melancholy statement, but she pushed on. “Is there something specific you wanna know?” She glanced down and realized she was still holding Draco's hand, so she released it and sat back on the couch. “I can tell you what his interests will be. He's going to be a Quidditch nut, that's for sure. Best seeker in the school.” Her face scrunched up a bit. “That is, if I don't mess up and ruin that chance for him.”

Draco relaxed into the chair and tilted his head while looking at Rochelle. “What chance?” he asked simply.

Rochelle smiled wryly at Draco. “That's, uh, it's actually something I'm going to have to ask your help with. See, in my reading, during the first flight lesson of the year, something happens in class, and Madam Hooch has to leave with an injured student. You decided that was the perfect time to mess with Harry and provoked him into chasing after a rememberall that you threw.” She smiled a bit teasingly as she said the last sentence.

Draco understood she was teasing him for something he hadn't done, so he took it as the joke it was and laughed lightly again. He nodded for her to continue, seemingly enjoying the story so far. “He chased it, caught it, and was seen catching it by his head of house. All they saw was his skill in flying and catching something so small. He didn't even get in trouble for going against Madam Hooch's instructions. He gets onto the Quidditch team in the seeker position as a first-year. Youngest in a century to do so.”

Draco smiled wider and softly gasped in awe. “Wow. He's really that good?” Rochelle nodded, but Draco’s face fell slightly. “But wait, didn't you say you needed my help?”

Rochelle nodded again, and with a beat of silence, she realized he wanted her to elaborate. “Even though I'm going to do my best to help the two of you become friends, if it's possible, I want you to still make that scene happen. If it doesn't, he may not be able to be on the Quidditch team till second year, when he can try out normally.”

Draco's eyes went wider slightly. His eyes were widening a lot. Hope his eyes don't dry out. “You want me to still bully him? I don't hate him and I don't want to hate him, so why would I plan on bullying him now?” 

Rochelle shook her head and sighed. “That's the thing: you don't need to bully him. You can tease him good-naturedly, or challenge him. He kinda has a weakness for giving in when asked if he's scared to do something. Like I said, he's a brave idiot.” She leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees and clasping her hands together. “That's something we can figure out later. Right now, I'm just telling you anything you want to know.”

Draco took a breath and sighed, nodding his head as he looked away, beginning to think. After a bit, it was like a light bulb went on in his mind as his head snapped back to Rochelle with a quizzical look. “What was that thing the other day? When you said you shouldn't have mentioned the last Gaunt in England. I want to know about that.”

Rochelle cringed, leaning back stiffly, resting her hands in her lap, and playing with her fingers. She bit her bottom lip and glanced away a bit before she looked back at Draco. “So, uh. Do you want the straightforward, un-elaborated truth? Or do you want the more detailed and annoyingly embarrassing for me, truth?”

A mischievous smirk spread over Draco’s lips. Rochelle shouldn't have given him that option. “The second one, obviously.” Even though he wasn't actually a bully, he still had the tendency to tease and enjoy others’ torment.

Rochelle closed her eyes and let out a breath before opening them again. “His name is Tom Riddle.” She wasn't looking at Draco when she said that, and it was only the silence from Draco that made her look at him. He clearly had no idea who that was, because he just motioned with his hand for her to go on.

She looked away again and continued, speaking rather rushed after the initial pause. “That's…that's You-know-who's real name. Tom Marvolo Riddle. His mom's name is Merope Gaunt, making him the last Gaunt in England. I am very, very , distantly related to The Dark Lord.” She cringed at the statement. She hated that she hadn't thought that part through when choosing her place in the world. She did not want to be related to snake-face McVoldiewart. Although he was supposed to have been attractive before getting obliterated by Lily's sacrifice and snakeified in the revival ritual.

This time, the resulting silence from Draco didn't draw Rochelle's eyes to him. It took a minute before Draco was sputtering noises of disbelief. “There is no way that's true. I can believe You-Know-Who being the last Gaunt in England, but I don't believe you're related to him.” He was chuckling and softly scoffing. He really didn't believe her. Guess it's time to whip out the family tree.

Rochelle didn't even look at Draco once as she grabbed her notebook and opened it at one of the marked places. She set the book flat on the coffee table and pushed it toward Draco before putting her wand on the open page. She muttered a soft “ aparecium flagrate. ” This was a combination spell she managed to figure out for this very conversation. Once the spell was cast, lines of thin fire began flying out of the page and into the air. A simply-styled family tree with names and dates for births and deaths.

This spell combined the revealing spell: Aparecium and the spell that allows you to write in the air: Flagrate. All she had to do was write what she wanted on the page, and casting the spell essentially projects what is written into the air.

Making this family tree wasn't easy. Most of it came from whatever entity was putting information into her head when she wanted it. She had previously said that on the first day she arrived, she did a bunch of research into her family. In her background, she wrote that she knew who everyone she was related to was and how they were related. This allowed her to make a scarily accurate family tree from memory alone. More detailed and accurate than ever explained in the books or put together by fans and posted online. Probably because in this world, they were real people with a lineage and not just characters. That scary accurate family tree was now being projected into the air in thin fiery lines all across her bedroom, anywhere it seemed to be able to fit.

Rochelle still refused to look at Draco. She was too embarrassed to be related to Voldemort to see Draco's reaction to anything right now. She stood from her couch and grabbed Draco's arm without looking at him and began walking to where she knew she was in the tree.

She pointed at herself on the tree with her wand and said, “Rochelle M. McCullen.” She then traced her wand over her mother, then her grandfather, then her great-grandfather, then her great-great-grandmother, over and over.

She traced her wand all the way back, and eventually she said, “Rionach Steward. Isolt Sayre.” She paused the name calling. “When I said distantly related, I meant it. In case you didn't know, Isolt Sayre founded Ilvermorny. Her mother was Rionach Gaunt. Rionach’s sister, Gormlaith, basically ran Isolt out of England. This has gone on too long, so I'll just skip to the highlights. Honorable mention: this line-” she motions to one side of the tree above Gormleith and Rionach Gaunt, “-leads to Cadmus Peverell. That actually means I'm related to Harry distantly, too, since he's related to Cadmus’ brother Ignotus. Anyway, this line-” she motions to the other side of the tree, then down.

It keeps going until just before Marvolo Gaunt. She smiles to herself, remembering the video game she played in her old life: Hogwarts Legacy. It was kinda cool to write down how she was related to one of her favorite characters from the game. She pointed to Marvolo Gaunt and said, “We're gonna follow him in a second, but I just wanna mention Marvolo's brother, Ominis. He was blind and was able to navigate his way around using his wand. I always thought that was really cool.” She giggled a bit before pointing back at Marvolo. “Anyway, Marvolo had Merope, who is Tom Riddle's mom.”

Finally, she let herself look at Draco. He was looking at all of this in complete awe. After Rochelle finally stopped talking, Draco let out a breathless huff of a laugh before saying, “Merlin's beard. I knew studying your ancestry was normal for purebloods, but you took it a bit too far.” He had a bewildered smile on his face as his eyes scanned the tree. At this point, Rochelle had already let him go since she had stopped dragging him around the tree.

Draco followed the line back up to Rionach Gaunt and went up the other side of the tree. He runs around the room every which way until he ends up at Cadmus Peverell. He skips over to Ignotus, then traces it all the way to Harry's name. “You weren't kidding. You really are related to Harry.” He looks at ‘Harry James Potter, b. 1980’ practically with stars and hearts in his eyes.

Rochelle just looks at him and smiles. She wonders if she is in the Canon universe or Fanon universe. Either way, Draco is obsessed with Harry already.

Suddenly, Rochelle remembered mentioning that she was related to Draco, and she giggled, earning the boy's gaze. She looks at him and beams as she says, “Remember how I said we are related?”

Draco must have realized he could search this and find out, so he looked around for his name. Rochelle laughed and said, “Looking around like that isn't going to help with all these names. We need to start somewhere. We are already at Harry, so let's start there and trace it back.”

Draco looked at her, confused. “Why are we starting at Harry? Just because both of us may be related to you doesn't mean we are related to each other.”

Rochelle shook her head and said, “No, no, you're not related to Harry. You're related to his godfather. I'm the one who made this tree, so I can make any connections I want. So~” she traced the line that connects Harry to Sirius Black the third. The line is more of a yellow color than the normal fire of everything else. “I decided to make the connection that I know exists from my readings. Sirius Black and Harry's godfather. Sirius and your mom are cousins.” She traced the lines as she spoke and landed on Draco. “See? There you are. Now you follow your family line as you know it, and I'll follow from me.”

Draco nodded his head, and Rochelle ran over to herself. She traced quickly on her father's side of the family down a path she knew as if using her muscle memory. She runs all over the place while Draco is carefully tracing his part of the family on the Black side. Eventually, Rochelle lands on the first Black in her path: Alegra Black. Draco ends up not far away as he finds Alegra's brother, Aries. He looks at Rochelle and smiles.

He's been smiling a lot more since the start of the conversation. He seems more open to her. Not just because she knows things about Harry, or because she's determined to keep him from being a Death Eater. This little Ancestry detour their conversation took seemed to make him more open to seeing her as family.

Rochelle smiled right back at him. “Isn't it cool? I'm related to Harry on my mom's side, and you on my dad's side.” She then grimaced as she remembered why they even opened the family tree to begin with. “And I hate to be the party pooper, but it also means I've proved myself. I'm very, very distantly related to You-Know-Who.”

Draco's face fell with the reminder of the conversation they were having before this tangent. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Alright. I believe you. And I didn't see a death date for Tom Riddle, so he must still be alive. So that gives more credibility to all your other claims of the future.” He walked back over to the sitting area and plopped into the chair he was in before.

Rochelle followed him, and once she was sitting on the couch again, she touched her wand to her open notebook and cast “ finite incantatum, ” which resulted in the entire family tree being sucked back into the book.

Rochelle settled on the couch and waited until Draco wanted to speak. When he finally did, he looked at Rochelle with a curious expression. “So, how does the first book start?”

Chapter Text

The rest of the previous day was spent in Rochelle’s bedroom. To the young girl’s utter shock, telling Draco about the book revealed to her that she wasn’t just remembering the story. It was as if all seven books were ingrained in her very being. She wasn’t just remembering it like she’d read a book before; it was like she lived it. Every word written, every concept discussed, every detail of what is canon to the Harry Potter universe lived in her head. More than just the books. All the fanon material, too. All the websites of information fans have compiled together—all of it.

She discovered this while speaking and explaining the events of the first book to Draco. She needed to filter some things out. Either because she planned to take care of it before it became a problem, like baby Norburta, or because there was no reason for Draco to know the information at this moment in time. She told him how his first meeting with Harry went, but not about Harry’s home life or experience with the Dursleys. That wasn’t hers to share. She told him about there being a troll in the castle on Halloween, but kept out everything about Quirrell being involved. She only implied it was Voldie by saying “the bad guy” and left it at that. Even with avoiding details and dropping plot points, Draco seemed satisfied.

This discussion went through lunch and ended shortly before dinner. After talking about the first book, Draco got to ask whatever questions he had. This led more to them getting to know each other and Draco being less of a little asshole-in-training. Apparently, Draco has a keen interest in potions and went on and on about the things he’s already studied in preparation for first year. Rochelle found this rather interesting, as all her studies have been in charms or spells, so she began a new section in her notebook for all the new things she is learning in their discussion.

Eventually, they were called down to dinner by another one of the house elves, and they walked down together, still happily talking. Lucius and Narcissa were pleasantly surprised that the two were suddenly getting along. Not quite at friends or sibling levels of closeness, but close enough to enjoy each other's company and be civil. When the topic of Draco’s birthday came up, Rochelle asked what she should expect, as she is very unfamiliar with the birthday practices of the UK wixen societal elite. This question devolved the conversation to Narcissa fussing over making sure Rochelle didn’t feel left out or embarrassed. Which was sweet, in a seemingly unintentional backhanded way.

The dinner soon ended, and once Rochelle got back to her room, she suddenly realized she didn’t have a birthday present for Draco. She began pacing her room, racking her brain for any ideas, when she caught sight of her special notebook she had left on her coffee table, and a light bulb went on in her mind. Calling Dobby, she gave him money and asked him to go buy an expensive blank notebook with attached bookmarks and a Slytherin theme.

The elf was reluctant but did as he was told, and about an hour later, Rochelle had the described notebook in front of her. It seemed over the top for her taste, but she figured Draco would like it. She then spent the next few hours trying to adhere a name plate with “Property of Draco Lucius Malfoy” onto the bottom back of the notebook. That should seem like an easy feat, but she didn’t exactly have any of the muggle book binding materials she would need, like glue, or book binding needle and thread, or even anything to emboss or carve the name plate, let alone design the damn thing. So she was left with transfiguration, and came to find out she was tremendously terrible at it.

Color-changing spells are a charm's derivative of transfiguration, so she was able to cast that rather easily. However, whenever she tried to change one thing into something else, or change the shape of something, she just couldn’t seem to get it. She ended up just taking a silver name plate that Dobby helped make, writing what she wanted it to say and how she wanted it to look onto parchment, transferring the ink written on the page into fire in the air, and essentially searing the writing into the silver with a strange modified version of the spell she had used to showcase her family tree earlier that day. Once she finished and smiled down at her gift, she laid it on her desk and went to bed. It was getting late, and she knew Narcissa would probably wake her up early to keep fussing about getting Rochelle ready for the fancy party.

The next morning was just about what Rochelle expected. Getting woken up early (for someone who’s not a morning person) at 8 o’clock, and promptly getting thrown into lessons on how she needed to conduct herself at this party like a proper noble lady. After lunch, Narcissa threw herself into finding the young girl something appropriate to wear. She ended up giving up one of her old dresses, shrinking and altering it to fit Rochelle better. She was set in a long, icy blue and black silk dress with delicate black beaded flower details. The dress neckline went straight across her chest and had thin straps. The final ensemble was accessorized with a sheer black shawl and a delicate black necklace. The whole thing reminded Rochelle of a prom dress. [A/N: see picture at the end of the chapter]

After finally being released from Narcissa’s clutches, Rochelle retreats to her room and sits at her desk. She thought that maybe Draco would like having his own never-ending notebook, so she got to work charming it. She finally perfected her own original spell and knew she would have to make very good use of it. She would also likely have to come up with a name for it. What’s the protocol for creating spells anyway? Well, that doesn’t matter now, as once the gift was charmed to never end, she handed it off to Dobby with the request that he wrap it in a way that was expected of a gift to Draco.

With the gift taken care of, Rochelle spent the rest of her time before dinner and the party planning everything she could. She had ideas of what she wanted to happen this year, what she needed to happen, and what would be nice goals to have, but it wouldn't be the end of the world if they didn’t happen. She needed to eventually find a way to protect her notebook, and she already had a new type of ward in mind. She even did the research into the runes needed for what she wanted, but the caveat is that she needs to learn Occlumency for this to work. So she started thinking of a plan to get Snape to teach it to her, despite her being 11. This was going to take a lot of blackmail. Possibly everything she has on the man, because there was no way he would agree without being forced to do it.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t complete her plan as she was called down to dinner. So she put on her fancy new black flats and fixed up her outfit, checking in the mirror to make sure she looked like a rich pureblood. Her hair flowed down her back in its normal brown and red color. She scrunches her face as she observes herself and decides to give her hair a bit more of a wavy texture instead of its normal pin-straightness. Once done, she smiles and nods in satisfaction.

Honestly, if she didn’t have on an insanely expensive and fancy dress, she almost looked cute. Maybe a bit pretty and mature, despite being a child. She looked nice and expensive. She only hoped she didn't embarrass Draco and Narcissa. She is still on the fence with Lucius, but Narcissa seemed to genuinely want her there. Before she left, she grabbed her wand and notebook and shrunk it down to fit in the dress pocket along with a pencil. She then found a convenient wand pocket in the dress and slid her wand into it. Better to be prepared for anything.

Having sat down at the dining table, Rochelle takes care to place a cloth napkin across her lap to protect her pretty dress. She then looked at Narcissa and asked, “So, what can I expect everyone else to be doing? We talked at length about how I need to act, but I don’t know what all of you will be doing for the night.” She observed the way Narcissa was eating and tried to imitate her.

The family ate in silence before one of them was able to answer her after swallowing their bite of food. Lucius says, “Narcissa and I will be greeting guests as they enter the estate. Draco will be escorting a young lady from another pure blood family and is expected to mingle with every guest in the ballroom.” He then took another bite of whatever meat it is they’re eating. She hadn’t cared to ask.

So, when Rochelle was told she could essentially do whatever she wanted as long as she conducted herself like a lady, it was because she would primarily be alone the whole night, or most of the night. She wondered silently if she should stand off to the side of the room or just shadow Narcissa.

After dinner, Rochelle decides it may be better to do the latter. So, she follows Narcissa and Lucius to the front door to greet their guests as they enter. Draco is off somewhere else, probably finishing his preparations for the party. Despite just standing next to Narcissa, politely smiling as the adults greet the guests, Rochelle is still getting strange looks. Yes, she is an unknown little girl next to Lord and Lady Malfoy, but come on! If she were a normal little girl, Rochelle would be crying from the types of dirty glares she was getting. Like she was a stain on the earth, regardless of whether she appeared as anything less than a pureblood witch child.

A few of the families who entered the house had children of their own with them who seemed to be doing the same as Rochelle, smiling and remaining silent as they followed their parents. Most of the children she didn't have the time to try and recall who they were or recognize them, but three of them she had met before: Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott.

Crabbe and Goyle didn't seem to pay her any mind, but Nott looked at her like she had insulted him with her very presence. He smiled happily at the Malfoys, but the moment he was walking past Rochelle, he looked her up and down and took on a face that looked like it should have been a sneer, but didn't quite reach his eyes. If Rochelle is forced to talk to him later, she’s going to have to address his dirty looks. They’re more of a nuisance than anything, especially if he is Draco’s friend.

Once the guests seemed to stop entering the manor, Rochelle followed Lucius and Narcissa to the main ballroom. With a flourish of an opening door, Lucius thanked the guests for their attendance. He led the other two in the trio off to the side and let the doors close. Once things seemed to be set up, Lucius announced Draco’s entrance, and the doors swung open again. Draco walked in wearing silver dress robes that were very close to resembling a suit under the top robe. On his arm, he had a girl with a short black bob in a half-up, half-down style pulled back by a flower clip. She is in a pretty light pink dress that was very flowy with flower accents. She was very cute and practically beaming next to Draco.

Rochelle kept staring at the girl as Draco entered the room with her. Not with any sort of malice, but because she didn't recognize her. She was trying to place her and figure out her name. This one was a bit hard, and she didn’t even get to figure it out because Narcissa leaned down and whispered to Rochelle, “That is Pansy Parkinson. She and Draco have been each other's escorts to their birthdays since they were toddlers.” Narcissa smiled down at the young girl at her side and seemed to be trying to gauge her reaction.

Rochelle’s eyebrows raised as she nodded slowly. She noticed her smile wavered as she was studying Pansy Parkinson, so she quickly plastered a smile back on her face and thanked Narcissa for informing her. Pansy seemed like a nice enough girl right now. She appeared happy next to Draco. And if their friendship in the future is to say anything about Draco’s comfort level with the girl, she can’t possibly be as bad as the books said. Rochelle decided to talk to her later if given the chance. Getting along with those that Draco calls friends is essential if she wants Draco to trust her. As of right now, he trusts her to tell the truth, but that’s not good enough if she is going to make sure he doesn’t mess up his future.

Draco and Pansy started making their rounds about the room, mingling and putting on a proper pureblood show. Narcissa and Lucius started walking around as well, and again, Narcissa paid more attention to Rochelle than Lucius as she smiled down at the girl. “Do you truly want to follow us around? Perhaps you could introduce yourself to the other children. We can find you if needed. Go have fun, dear. Enjoy the party.” Her voice was gentle and kind. Very out of character for her, ordinarily. However, Rochelle has gotten more used to it during her time here, so she simply smiled warmly at Narcissa while those around them looked at the woman with confusion.

Rochelle can take a hint. She was being politely told to f-off. ”I think I’ll take my leave then. I wouldn’t want to impose. I will most likely be toward the edges of the room if you need me.” She curtsied to the adults around her. “If you’ll excuse me.” She smiled at them before she turned to leave. As she walked away, she could hear the adults talking about who she was, and inwardly beamed at hearing Narcissa refer to her as “a wonderfully bright young witch” while Lucius simply called her their new ward.

She made her way to the edge of the room, which had a surprisingly good view of the rest of the guests. She was about to lean on the wall to start her people-watching when she luckily caught herself. Leaning against the wall wasn’t proper, and she thinks she remembers hearing somewhere that leaning on things is an American habit that other countries consider rude. Spies need to unlearn the habit of leaning to blend in better when abroad, or something like that. She huffed a sigh, thinking about how her feet were gonna kill her later by standing upright without leaning on the wall.

Resigned to the future pain, her eyes sweep across the room, looking for anyone she can identify. Practically every face she sees is unknown, even with searching her mental database of the physical descriptions of all the characters. This was the high society of the wizarding world, most of whom are probably Death Eaters. There would be no reason for Harry to have met most of these people, so their physical descriptions never came up in the books. It didn't take long for Rochelle to give up trying to identify the guests and decide to practice a bit of her metamorph ability.

She looks at her hands and starts playing around with the size, shape, and color of her nails. She smiles brightly at the sudden realization she doesn’t need nail polish anymore. For some reason, nail polish always peeled off within a day or two of applying it, so she tended to have naked nails in her old life. Now, with this ability, she can have perfectly “painted” nails just by thinking what she wants. She spends most of the party thus far just smiling as she plays around with a nail design to match her dress. She decided on a halo (hay-low) nail design with the same icy blue as her dress at the center and black on the outside. Thin and delicate flower details to mimic the beaded ones on her dress. She even makes the length about a centimeter longer than her natural nail to make it look like she got acrylic extensions. Safe to say she’s having the time of her life on her lonesome at this party.

Eventually, her loner bliss is interrupted by Draco walking over without Pansy. Should she call her Pansy or Parkinson? Probably Parkinson, since the two have never spoken before, let alone been on a first-name basis. Draco smiles kindly at Rochelle, but it isn’t the comfortable one the young girl was now used to, having seen it nearly all of yesterday and today. This smile was his social mask. Rochelle didn’t like it, but she returned his smile with a genuine one of her own. Draco starts by saying, “How are you enjoying the party? I haven’t seen you chatting to the guests.”

Rochelle chuckled a bit as she said, “That’s because I have nothing to say. With the dirty glances I was getting while greeting them with your parents, I doubted anyone would appreciate me starting a conversation with them. So, I’ve left it to others to approach me if they want to chat. Staying quiet also limits the possibility of making a fool of myself.” She then beamed as she held out her hands to the boy and practically bounced in place. “Look what I did, though! I used my metamorph ability to make my nails match my dress! Aren’t they pretty?”

Draco looked at her nails, and his smile almost instantly became more genuine. “That’s fantastic! Rather impressive actually.” He kept looking at her nails and even gently took her fingers to inspect them more closely while smiling. “It looks like you’ve painted them with a tiny brush. You mentioned you are an artist. Would you be able to replicate this with paint? Or is this strictly a result of your birth-given ability?” His eyes met hers again as he let go of her fingers.

Rochelle dropped her hands and nodded her head. “Yes, I can. In fact, I was inspired by nail art using nail polish that muggles do. I believe in the UK, it’s either nail lacquer or varnish? I’ll have to look into buying some when I go to London.” She paused and let her gaze drift to the rest of the room. “Seems like you’re finally letting yourself relax, right? I saw you talking to every single guest with Parkinson. So now you get to relax by allowing me to bask in the presence of the birthday boy.” She giggled a bit when her eyes went back over to the boy, and she saw his playful smirk.

Draco scoffed softly and crossed his arms gently over his abdomen, raising an eyebrow at her. “It is quite easy to have a brief respite when the last person to speak to is a loner standing at the edge of the room.” Before Rochelle can tease him back, maybe retorting that she isn’t a loner, Draco adds, “Mother and Father asked me to find you. There is someone you need to meet.” He dropped his arms and slightly turned to lead the way.

Rochelle’s smile wavered in her confusion. Who could they possibly want her to meet? Sure, there are lots of important people at this party, but the day is about Draco, not her. Regardless, she fixed her smile and followed Draco over to where Narcissa and Lucius were standing. Once she arrived, they exchanged kind looks before the adults led the children over to the other edge of the room. They walked up to a tall man in sleek black robes and chin-length straight black hair. He turned toward them as they approached, and Rochelle could clearly see his deep obsidian eyes. She knew instantly who this was once she took in his hooked nose and condescending expression.

Narcissa opened her mouth to introduce them, but before she could utter a syllable, it was as if Rochelle couldn’t hold herself back. She practically blurted out, “Professor Snape! It’s so nice to meet you!” She doesn’t bother to offer a hand to shake. Mainly because it isn’t proper in this setting, but also because Snape doesn’t shake. So instead, she offered a polite curtsy to the man and a warm smile.

Snape raised an eyebrow at that, and the other two adults looked stricken by the fact she knew his name already and even referred to him as ‘Professor’, which indicates she knew he would be teaching her. Snape then drawled, “You must be Miss McCullen,” his gaze drifting to the Malfoys, “the new Malfoy ward I’ve heard so much about.” He looked back at Rochelle. His eyes seemed to sharpen with distrust as he studied her.

Narcissa nodded before she said, “Yes, this is Rochelle. Rochelle, this is Severus Snape. He will be your potions professor at Hogwarts and is also Draco’s godfather.” She said this as if it were obvious that Rochelle knew this already, given how the girl had greeted the man. But Rochelle’s smile just vanished and was replaced with a look of surprise. Draco’s WHAT!?

“You- godfather?- I thought- but that means- oh sweet Merlin that-” She took a deep breath before smiling at Snape. “I see. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Snape.” Her demeanor was now more subdued and almost imperceptible as fake joy. That is, for people who knew her on a more intimate level, it was clear something was going on in her mind that dimmed her shine. Mainly, Draco noticed. The adult Malfoys seemed not to notice, but Snape is too good at reading anyone who isn’t Harry, so he unfortunately noticed as well.

Snape's gaze sharpened even more as his brows furrowed ever so slightly. “Yes, a pleasure indeed.” His tone was as uninterested as to be expected of the man. He kept eyeing Rochelle and studying her, and now, Rochelle wasn’t studying him in return as she had been before. Now her mind was swirling with all the new possibilities of information this news introduced. Draco’s godfather? That’s definitely not canon, which only means one thing.

Rochelle looked at the adults and took the extended silence as an opportunity. “If I may excuse myself, I need some air.” Narcissa nodded silently while Lucius just looked confused at why she would say hello just to immediately leave, and he didn't look happy about it. She smiled and curtsied yet again and quickly walked to the nearest door to a balcony, closing the door behind her.

Something that isn’t canon was just told to her that it's true. Which means she has to be in a fanon version of this universe. Fanon is so vast that literally anything can happen. She can't prepare for ‘anything’, only what she knows from the books! How is she going to handle something she can’t prepare for!? She placed her hands on the banister of the balcony to brace herself as she took deep and steadying breaths. This explains why Narcissa is so different from her canon counterpart, being so warm and nice. That’s always how she was depicted in the fan fiction she had read.

After a few more deep breaths, she took her wand and notebook out of their respective pockets and enlarged the book. She grabbed the pencil from her pocket and started a new section in her notebook, and color-coded the bookmark with Colovaria before starting to make a checklist of every trope she could think of in canon-based fan fiction she has read. She was going to have to steadily add things as she remembered them and check which ones were true in this universe. The first thing she wrote was “Snape is Draco’s godfather,” and checked the box next to it.

Amid her frantic writing, Draco opened the door and joined her on the balcony. He saw her frantically writing and tentatively closed the door behind him and slowly walked closer. “What the bloody hell was that? Why did you react that way to my godfather?” His voice was cautious, yet still had his normal prattish intonation to it. He was confused by her actions, but also cautious, as he knew what that look of hers meant by now, with her notebook out. Something serious happened, but he doesn’t know what.

Rochelle looked up from her book at Draco. Her eyes flitted to the closed door quickly before she looked back at Draco and pulled out her wand again. She cast a quick Muffliato around them to block out noise from getting through the door. She put her wand away and took a breath while locking eyes with Draco. “There are some things I simply can’t explain without sounding more like a lunatic than I already do.” She looked down at her notebook again and continued adding to the checklist as things popped into her head.

Draco crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one foot, a small, amused smile creeping onto his face. “Ah, so you’re aware you come across as loony. Small blessings.” Rochelle didn't react, which caused his smile to falter. This must be too serious for teasing right now.

After a beat and more writing, Rochelle looked back at Draco. “Yes, yes. Self-awareness is important. Now, as for why I reacted that way to Professor Snape, it's complicated. Remember how I said I know things about people because of the books?” Draco nodded slowly. “Severus Snape is one such person. Actually, I know more about him than I do about you and your parents. I didn’t, however, know he was your godfather. That wasn’t in the books. That opens up a whole slew of information I had but wasn’t written as solid facts. Now there are a bunch of unknown variables that I need to find out if they’re true or not.” She looked down at her list and took a few deep breaths. She could feel herself starting to freak out more. She needs to calm down.

Draco stood there, stunned. He could only seem to muster a soft, “Oh, sweet Salazar,” and rub his forehead. “So that stuttering mess was you having a revelation that this new information could be true? You looked like a babbling idiot. You nearly embarrassed me.” He started to pace a bit in front of Rochelle to try and gather himself while Rochelle tried to do the same, rereading her list and controlling her breathing. It was then that she read one on the list that caused her to smirk a bit. Her anxiety melted back to her normal mischievous nature. She looked at Draco with a smirk, watching him pace in front of her. He noticed and stopped pacing, furrowing his brows as he dropped his hands and met her gaze. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Rochelle let herself relax more by leaning her back against the balcony banister, despite leaning not being proper. Still holding her book and crossing her legs, she put all her weight on one foot. “Let me confirm one bit of this new information now. At this point, I’m nearly positive it's true. Maybe that’s just my hope, but it may not be true, so I need to check.” Draco looked even more confused and lifted a hand to point to himself in a gesture that implied the question of the information being about him. Rochelle nodded and then bluntly said with a devious and teasing glint in her eye, “Do you like boys?” Draco almost instantly sputtered nonsensical noises, so she continued. “I know we are a bit young for you to know what you’re interested in, but ya never know when someone has their gay awakening.”

Now blushing, Draco seemed to find words to say through his stuttering. “Me? Fancy blokes? T-there’s no way I could fancy blokes!” He blushed harder, seeming to think harder on the matter. This caused Rochelle's smirk to spread into a triumphant smile.

She giggled happily, nearly hysterically. “You do! You so do ‘fancy blokes’! Your face is so red!” She giggled more as she looked back at her notebook and dramatically checked off the box next to ‘Draco Malfoy is gay’ and looked back at the blushing boy before her. “Draco, it’s ok. It’s perfectly normal to be gay. I’ll always be here to support you. I’ll be your biggest cheerleader when you get an even bigger crush on Harry than you already do.”

Draco’s mouth dropped open in shock at the sheer audacity of her last statement. ”When I what!? I do NOT have a crush on Ha- Potter!” He huffed and looked like he was about to keep refuting her claim, but she interrupted him by laughing. She was laughing so hard she had to close her book and clutch her stomach. “S-stop laughing!” He cried, stomping his foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Her laughter subsided to the point she could speak, but she did wipe a tear from one of her eyes. “Sorry! Sorry. It’s just, you called him Harry yesterday, but the moment I accuse you of something that is so obviously true, you go calling him Potter, like you did in the books.” He looked ready to retort against her statement, but she trudged on. “Don’t go trying to deny it. You’re very clearly obsessed with him. That much I knew before any indication of your sexuality. That much was written in the books. Not in so many words, but everyone knew.” She gave him a pointed look. She knew he knew this based on their discussion yesterday, so there was no way he could deny it. She also didn’t specify that the ‘everyone’ she meant was all the people who have read the series, not the characters in the books.

Eventually, she shrank her notebook and placed all her things into their respective pockets. She looked at Draco with an amused smile. “You need to collect yourself before returning to your party. I need to go talk to Professor Snape now that I’ve collected myself. Feel free to stay behind the Muffliato. I’ll keep it going till I see you in the ballroom again.” She patted his shoulder as she walked past him and back into the party, closing the door behind her with a satisfied smile on her face.

Rochelle walked along the edge of the room, scanning the many bodies moving about the ballroom as music played. She knew Snape wouldn’t dance, so she focused on those along the edge of the room. It wasn’t that hard, as she only needed to look for a man in all black who was silently judging those around him. Probably not conversing with anyone if he can avoid it.

Soon, she located her target and walked up to him with a bright smile only a child can manage. The brooding professor simply looked at her as his acknowledgment of her existence. However, Rochelle was undeterred. “Professor Snape. My apologies for my behavior earlier. I did not expect Hogwarts’ esteemed Potions Master to be my new brother’s godfather.” She tried her best not to lie without giving too much information that is inappropriate to share, especially at a social gathering.

Snape maintained his deadpan expression. “I highly doubt a week with the Malfoys constitutes permission to refer to Draco as your brother.” He said in a drawling and bored voice. As expected, he did not want to be in a conversation with her.

Rochelle kept smiling unwaveringly and nodded her head a bit. “Of course. However, according to the contract binding me as the Malfoy ward, in practice, I’m the Lord and Lady’s daughter, and by extension, Draco’s sister. A lack of proper relationship connection aside, I didn't misspeak.” That seemed to catch Snape's attention as he raised his eyebrows slightly, almost imperceptibly. He tilted his head down a bit more so he was now properly looking at the child who had approached him. Continuing, Rochelle states her business for approaching him. “Professor, would you be willing to speak with me after the festivities? There is a matter of great importance I wish to discuss.”

Snape's expression drifted into a sneer at the thought of talking with the child in a situation where he isn’t forced to be cordial. A few moments of silence danced between them before he slowly nodded.

Rochelle smiled even brighter and happily clasped her hands together. “Perfect! I’ll have my elf fetch you after the party is over. He will lead the way for you.” Suddenly, Draco was next to her and whispered in her ear that all the children were going to a different room. She nodded and looked back at Snape and did yet another of what must be her tenth curtsy today. “If you’ll excuse me once again, Professor. Enjoy the child-free portion of the night.” With another silent nod from the man, Rochelle let Draco lead her away.

~Rochelle’s Dress~ 

Chapter Text

Draco led Rochelle over to the other children, but shortly before the two joined the others, he stopped and whispered to her. “It is probably best for you not to cling so close to me, or even act comfortable around me. Keep up that act you're doing. Surprisingly, you seem to be good at acting higher than your standing.” Rochelle scoffed in disbelief. Really? A dig at her while praising her? Wait, no, that tracks for him. After a beat, she nodded her head, and the two continued joining the other children.

Everyone walked out of the ballroom and down a small hallway nearby. They all file in with a practiced air and confident strides. This must be something that happened at every birthday party. It makes sense, though. The party seemed designed with the adults in mind, not the children. So the children going off to a separate room toward the end of the night isn't that surprising. The room was a decently sized sitting room with a small table of refreshments off to one side. There were the normal couches and chairs, but also some extra chairs in various areas of the room, as if whoever prepared the room expected the children not to sit together.

Rochelle decided to make her way to one of the sets of chairs lining the room and took a seat in the one closest to the wall. She wasn’t sure what she could do to pass the time, so she went back to people-watching and trying to identify the children. There aren’t many, but they are of varying ages. Mainly, one older, one younger. The rest seem to be about the same age as Rochelle and Draco.

Said boy sat on a couch near the center of the room and was quickly surrounded by most of the boys. Namely, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott, but also two more boys, one of whom is significantly older. Three additional boys went off on their own into a separate group. There were a total of eight girls in the room, excluding Rochelle. Immediately, she could see Parkinson in one of the two groups that the girls made. There were three girls with her, one of them noticeably younger than the others. The other group of girls had four individuals, two of whom appeared to be identical twins. These seemed to be pre-formed cliques. Rochelle was glad she preemptively separated herself from the others, thankful she didn't create an awkward situation.

Studying the groups more, she focused on the identical twins. Time to try and guess everyone's names. It’s fun to see people's reactions when she already knows who they are. So, who are the identical twin girls who are Rochelle’s age? The Patil twins, so they were easy to identify. Rochelle was surprised to find possibly light-aligned children at a dark-aligned party, which widened Rochelle’s pool of possible people in the room. It also made it a bit harder.

She couldn’t get further in figuring out who everyone was as she saw Parkinson and her group of girls walk up to her, Parkinson at the lead. She put her hands on her hips and smirked down at Rochelle, lifting her nose haughtily. “And just who might you be? I’ve never seen you here before. What’s with that ridiculous hair?” The other girls smiled and snickered. 

Standing from her seat, Rochelle doesn’t bother smiling due to the insult to her hair; she simply politely curtsied and introduced herself. “Nice to meet you, Pansy Parkinson. I’m the Malfoy family's new ward, Rochelle McCullen. I live here.” She looks at Parkinson kindly, but not with any semblance of a genuine smile. She knew Parkinson meant she had never seen Rochelle at a high society party, but the intentional miscommunication was just a bit of humor to make this interaction a bit more enjoyable.

Parkinson scoffed and crossed her arms. “The Malfoy’s ward? Like I’d believe that. Based on your accent, you’re clearly American. And you didn't explain your atrocious hair!” She practically yelled this, gaining the attention of the entire room.

Draco, of course, heard this, and his eyes snapped to the girls. He maintained his mask, but when their eyes met, Rochelle could see him pleading for her to behave. She returned his look with one of her own, conveying that she will behave if Parkinson does. Draco looked away in resignation.

Rochelle took a subtle but deep breath and looked back at Parkinson. She didn’t say anything right away, just changed her hair to solid brown, facial expression unchanged, “This better?” If the room was quiet before, it now transitioned into silence. Parkinson’s face fell. Rochelle’s eyes hardened, and now she dons a smile. “Too bad. It’s my hair and I’ll make it whatever color I want, thank you.” She changed it back. She allowed herself to be a bit smug.

The room remained silent for a few moments, so she continued, “Yes, I am American. Special circumstances led me to attend Hogwarts instead of Ilvermorny, so I’ll be starting in the fall with most everyone else in this room.”

She looked at the older boy and studied him for a moment, taking in his black hair and dark eyes. The only pureblood family with an older boy that could come to this party is probably the Flints of the Sacred 28, so that must be Marcus. She continued, “except Marcus Flint over there, who is in his, what, 5th year?”

She looked at the younger girl in the group in front of her and assumed the one the younger girl was holding onto must be her sister. They both have bright blue eyes. The older sister has blonde hair, while the younger has brown hair. The first sisters who fit the age difference with vaguely those characteristics are the Greengrass sisters, so she continued. “And of course Astoria Greengrass, who isn’t starting for another two years.” She looked back at Parkinson with a knowing smile.

Everyone in the room was even more stunned. It’s so quiet you could hear a bowtruckle sneeze. Nott spoke first, saying, “Merlin, it's creepy when she does that.” Which caused everyone to look at him in a flurry of swaying hair and swiveling heads.

Rochelle smiled a bit more genuinely and gave a little bow, saying, “Why, thank you, Nott. Always aim to please.” She giggled softly. She caught sight of Draco covering his face with a silent groan, but she could see the slight smile he was hiding. This caused her to bite her bottom lip to stifle an even bigger smile from forming.

Parkinson scoffed and said, “Theo, you say that as if you know her.” Her voice held a bratty whine, but her shocked expression didn’t change. She continued staring at Nott with such a hard gaze, it was surprising the boy didn't turn to stone, or ice, or something of that sort.

Surprisingly, it was Crabbe who piped in, “That’s cause we do. Theo, Greg, and me were over here when she showed up. Mrs. Malfoy even introduced her as Draco’s new sister. Bloody weird, she is.” His nose scrunched in a snarl at Rochelle.

She just smiled even brighter. “Thank you, Crabbe. Wow, creepy and weird. You truly do know how to compliment a girl.” She couldn’t help but laugh a bit more. She knew this wasn’t the best first impression on all these pureblood families and her future classmates, but the smile and laugh she could see Draco trying to hide might be worth it.

Parkinson’s head whipped back to Rochelle, “Sister!?” She screeched, sputtering in disbelief.

Rochelle’s smile lessened a bit. “Well, effectively, yes. Semantics, fine print, and all that.” She waved her hand and shook her head, brushing off the statement. Hoping this child doesn’t ask more questions. “I’m actually an extremely distant cousin.” Her hand and head stilled, her eyes going wide.

That was the wrong thing to say, and she knew it the moment it came out of her mouth. Nott immediately sat up straighter and said, “I’m quite glad you mentioned where you come from. I’d like to bring that thing you mentioned about the last-“ he was cut off by Draco covering his mouth, to the surprise of everyone in the room, including Rochelle. It seemed he had decided on whether or not to tell his friends that bit.

He doesn’t say anything, as his actions seemed to have shocked him, too. Goyle slowly says, “Oh yeah. Wasn’t there something about you being told and deciding if we get to know?” He looked at Draco in a mix of confusion and expectation.

Nott took Draco’s hand off his mouth and continued, “Greg's right. I remember something like that.” He eyed Draco and Rochelle suspiciously. “So, Draco,” he looked right at the boy. “We get to know, right? Who was the last-“ 

His mouth was covered again by Draco at the same time as he said, “No. You don’t get to know. Nobody does unless Rochelle decides they should know.” This was very out of character for Draco. The tension could be cut with a knife, as thick and almost visible it was in the room. It would seem that acting as if they barely knew each other was no longer the plan.

After a bit more silence and Nott throwing Draco’s hand off his mouth again, Rochelle clapped her hands together and regained everyone’s attention. Which isn’t something she likes, but she would rather take negative attention away from Draco than let him ruin his reputation. “Alrighty then! Let’s get back to our regularly scheduled bullying, shall we? Parkinson? Weren’t you trying to demean me by insulting my appearance? Or maybe you wanna take a crack at insulting my homeland?” She smiled with faux warmth at the girl before her. Now, dropping the more sophisticated language she was using in favor of sass.

Parkinson sputtered and blushed at being so blatantly called out. Rochelle could see Draco hiding his smile again. She guesses he finds her sassiness amusing, which is honestly great, because Rochelle finds it thoroughly hilarious. Parkinson huffed and walked away from Rochelle and practically threw herself down into a chair, crossing her arms and pouting. The other girls in that group followed her. Rochelle rolled her eyes. That’s a completely undignified way to conduct yourself, especially as a young lady of a family that’s part of the Sacred 28.

Mentally, Rochelle thanked the fact that nobody brought up her hair again. She took a breath and smiled at the rest of the room, whose eyes were still on her. “Right, so now that everything is awkward, I’m gonna go back to sitting alone and minding my own business as I have been doing all night. Whoever wants to talk to me is free to, but be nice. Conduct yourselves like the pureblood you are, yeah?” She took her seat and crossed her legs, sitting upright and poised like a proper lady, or at least what she thinks one would sit like. “Honestly. Getting lectured by someone your own age isn’t a good look.” She muttered under her breath, but the room was still so silent that everyone heard her.

After a few more moments of silence, Rochelle rolled her eyes and almost reached for her notebook, but restrained herself so as not to draw more attention by unshrinking it. Now she wished she had never reshrunk it. Instead, she looked down at her nails and admired her handiwork with them earlier. Slowly, the room went back to talking, so she allowed herself to glance up and resume identifying people.

She focused on the group with Parkinson. The last girl in that group was tall, heavier set, with black hair. That must be Millicent Bulstrode, based on how she looks and the way she seemed most comfortable with the other three girls, who will all be Slytherins.

Her gaze went over to Draco and his group to identify the last boy. However, the boy was no longer sitting with Draco, Crabbe, Nott, Goyle, and Flint. He was walking toward Rochelle with an easy smile. The boy had a handsome face with slanted eyes and dark skin. The only one fitting that description, wealthy enough to attend Draco’s birthday, is Blaise Zabini, even though he is a half-blood. He walked to Rochelle with an easy-going aura and a welcoming smile as he spoke. “Hello, Rochelle. I’m guessing based on Theo’s comment earlier that you already know all our names?”

Rochelle smiled kindly and tilted her head a bit. “Honestly, still working on it. But I know your name, Blaise Zabini. I also figured out Daphne when I got Astoria, and Millicent Bulstrode just a few seconds before you started heading over here. I got the Patil twins first, though. Pretty easy when they’re the only twin girls in our year.” She studied his face as she spoke. Based on fanon depictions of Blaise, she had a feeling they would get along. However, it could still go either way.

The more she listed whose name she knew, the brighter Blaise’s smile seemed to get. When she finished, he laughed softly as he said, “Oh wow. So not everyone then?” He raised an eyebrow teasingly. Oh yes, they’re gonna get along great.

Rochelle’s smile widened a bit as she also laughed. She gestured to the chair next to her. “Why don’t you have a seat? I'll update you on who I figure out.” And that’s what he did, taking the empty chair to her right happily. She glanced across the rest of the children and caught sight of the second group of boys. She leaned slightly toward Zabini while her eyes still scanned them as she said, “Maybe you could help a bit. I have a feeling of what pool of people I’m working with, but perhaps you can confirm.” She looked at Zabini and leaned back in place. “Is it just Dark and Grey families here? Or are there Light families in attendance as well?”

Zabini raised his eyebrows and chuckled softly in a lighthearted huff. “Light families are here, too. It’s always everyone in high society at all children’s birthdays. Children are a celebrated treasure to the wixen world, so children’s birthdays are one of the few occasions we put aside our magic alignment and socialize. I’m surprised you didn’t know that. I had assumed you were pureblood, based on that lecture you gave, saying we should ‘conduct ourselves like the purebloods we are.” 

Rochelle chuckled at the reminder of the lecture from minutes ago. “Right, despite the fact you’re half-blood. Had I realized who you were at that point, I would have phrased that differently.” She tilted her head back, looking up and away. “You are right, though. I am a pureblood. But I’m also an orphan raised in a wixen orphanage in America. Very different from wizarding Britain.” Her eyes landed back on the second group of boys. Now knowing she is working with purebloods from all magic alignments.

Zabini hummed in realization at her explanation. “Perhaps that’s why you’re so peculiar. Your hair and the way you conduct yourself. Speaking of, may I inquire as to an explanation of your hair? If that isn’t presumptuous of me to ask.” While Rochelle was still studying the second group of boys, she could feel Zabini’s eyes on her.

Her eyes, however, focused on a short, heavier boy with dirty blonde hair and a round face. Something in her was saying she knew who this was, something in his eyes she recognized visually. Then he smiled, and she caught sight of his buck teeth. Neville Longbottom. It took her a few moments to come to terms with the version of Neville she was seeing. In the books, he has blonde hair, but in the movies, it's brown. It’s like whoever made this universe slapped blonde hair onto Matthew Lewis.

Rochelle smiled and pointed over to Neville and said to Zabini, “Neville Longbottom.” Then looked back at him and dropped her hand to see his reaction. His eyes widened slightly, and he nodded. She then continued to answer his question. “That’s not presumptuous of you at all, Zabini. I’m the one who pulled this-“ she changed her hair to solid brown again before going back to its normal brown and red, “-little stunt. If I didn't want questions, I shouldn’t have done it. The answer is simple: I’m a metamorphmagus.” She held up her hands and shook them, making jazz hands. “Ta-da!~” she giggled softly and put her hands back down.

Shortly after she started talking, Zabini looked like he was going to say something, but was silenced by the sudden change in her hair and admission of her nature. His mouth fell open, but a smile remained on his face. “Merlin’s beard! A real metamorphmagus? I’ve never met one before.” He paused for a moment, his eyes looking over at Neville Longbottom. “How exactly are you able to so accurately guess who everyone is? Unlike Theo, I think it's rather cool. Brilliant even.”

Rochelle laughed softly and shrugged, tilting her head a bit and lifting her hands, making it extra dramatic. “I’m special like that. Same reason I’m going to Hogwarts instead of Ilvermorny. The Headmaster promised he’d announce it or something like that, I think. It might even be in the paper, which I think would make more sense.” She smirked a bit and dropped the shrug.

Zabini shook his head as he listened to Rochelle curb the question. “I guess I’ll find out later?” Rochelle nodded, a proud smile plastered on her face. “Right. Keep your secrets then.” Rochelle’s eyes then went back to the small group of boys, studying them. Of the last two, one of them was blonde, skinny, and had an upturned nose. The other was a taller boy, also blonde, and a bit chubby. Why were there so many blondes? As Rochelle was actively searching her brain, trying to place the two boys left in the room, Zabini continued speaking. “Call me Blaise. If you’re Draco’s new sister, I would like to be on friendly terms. Consider me a new friend.”

This caused Rochelle to whip her head back toward the boy, her smile faltering a bit in shock. “Really? You want to be friends? I understand wanting to be cordial for Draco’s sake, but you want me to call you by your given name? Truly?” This wasn’t what she was expecting. Of all people to offer her friendship first in this universe, it's Blaise Zabini.

Zabini- no, Blaise, just laughed and nodded his head. “You’re funny, and you’ve got a backbone. I admire that. You seem like the right type of friend to have, despite all your oddities.” He smiled happily at her.

Slowly, the smile returned to Rochelle’s face tenfold. “Alright. Blaise, it is then. Feel free to call me Rochelle. Maybe if I deem you worthy, I'll let you call me by my nickname.” She lightly teased him in the spirit of newfound friendship.

Blaise chuckled as he stood up and dramatically bowed. “I shall endeavor to live up to your expectations, Lady Rochelle.” This caused her to laugh even more, waving her hand at Blaise.

“Stop! I’m not a Lady!” She kept laughing and gently tugged his sleeve. “Now sit back down so I can finish figuring out who is here without anyone telling me!” While laughing, Blaise complied, and Rochelle looked back at the groups of boys.

Let’s try and tackle this with more than just their appearances. From the list of the Sacred 28, there is really only one option for one of them, and that’s “Ernie Macmillan,” she caught herself saying allowed, as if her mouth knew it was right for at least one of the boys.

Blaise sighed out a breath from laughing. “I’m gonna get you to tell me how you’re doing that before school starts.” She couldn’t see it, but his eyes narrowed at her, like it was a threat.

Rochelle smirked as she said, “Unlikely. I’m stubborn.” She temporarily glanced at the second group of girls, and something clicked in her mind. If all the Sacred 28 were here, one of those girls must be “Hannah Abbott,” she unconsciously said aloud once again. Then, as if her filter for inside and outside thoughts was cut off, she continued. “Not surprising, the only family of the Sacred 28 not here is the Weasleys.” Rochelle’s eyes went wide as she heard what just came out of her mouth. That did not come out the way she meant it in her head. She slapped her hand over her mouth and looked at Blaise, who didn't seem as shocked as her about her statement.

”The Weasleys have never attended anyone’s birthday. And vice versa, none of us has attended one of their birthdays. It’s a shame, really.” His smile was now less amused, but still easy-going.

Rochelle dropped her hand and took a breath, making sure her filter was properly on again. “I can understand why. From everyone’s side. The Weasleys aren’t rich, so there is no way they could afford attending something this fancy. And on the flip side, their house is too small to host this many people. But what they lack in money and society, they make up for in family. I appreciate them for that.” Her gaze had drifted away from Blaise and back to the last boy she needed to identify before returning to the girls.

She couldn’t see the expression that now lay on Blaise’s face. He was intrigued, thoughtful, confused, and what can only be described as soft. He had never cared to think about the Weasleys’ situation, let alone who they are as people. Rochelle spoke as if she knew the Weasley family personally, and in a way, Blaise didn’t know yet, she kind of did.

Rochelle kept thinking about the list of purebloods who could possibly attend this party. Eventually, she was left with trying to go down the list of those in her year and cross-referencing it with the list of purebloods in her head. It was getting hard, so she glanced at Blaise and smiled. “Hey, wanna see something cool? It’s gonna help me figure out who’s left.”

Blaise perked up at this, same easy-going smile brightening in his eyes as he adjusted in his seat, giving Rochelle his full attention. “Absolutely.”

Glancing across the room, checking if anyone else would see, she carefully pulled her wand and shrunken notebook out of her pockets. She then whispered a quick Engorgio and pocketed her wand swiftly after the spell succeeded. Blaise’s eyes went wide, and he whipped his head around, making sure he was the only one who saw that. He whisper-yelled, “You can cast spells like that already!?”

Rochelle beamed a bit and giggled. “Yeah, but I'm crap at transfiguration. That sucked to find out, but you win some, you lose some, right?” She then opened her notebook and flipped through the pages, not caring that Blaise was looking at it too, clearly reading it. Eventually, she found the page with the list of names with letters written next to them. It was the list of their year with the houses everyone gets sorted into. At the bottom of the list, there are some blank names with house initials written. Rochelle started scanning the list of names to try and place the boy.

Blaise looked at the page more intently, leaning closer to read it. “What is that? I can see it is a list of names, but what are those extra letters?”

Rochelle didn't bother looking up, still scanning the list and thinking as she responded. “It’s a list of students in our year and what houses they get sorted into.”

Blaise nodded, despite Rochelle not seeing his nonverbal response. “I see. It’s the house's first initials. How do you know that? And what about the letters at the bottom- oh, hey, I get Slytherin!” He exclaims upon seeing his name at the bottom of the list, but above the empty spaces with the house letters.

Rochelle kept responding on autopilot while trying to place the last boy. “Same reason I know everyone’s names. And the ones at the bottom, I couldn’t remember their names, but I remember their houses and their gender. So at the sorting ceremony, I’m going to write down their names so I don’t forget them.” Her eyes then came to Zacharias Smith, and the book's physical description of him popped into her head. It was a match, so she then said while lazily pointing to Smith. “The last boy is Zacharias Smith.” She glanced over at the last girl she needed to place and squinted in confusion. The girl had long, slightly wavy, dark brown hair, but she was turned away so Rochelle couldn’t see her other features. She looked back at the list and decided to do a process of elimination on the girls.

Blaise nodded his head, “Sure, makes sense. Really, not at all, but that’s alright. Correct on your guess, just one more to go.” He smiled at Rochelle, noticing she really seemed to be struggling now.

Alphabetical order via last name. Hannah was out; she was already identified. Susan Bones is a half-blood. Same with Mandy Brocklehurst and Lavender Brown. Millicent was identified. Tracy Davis is half-blood. Fay Dunbar is a Muggleborn. She’s clearly not Hermione. Daphne was identified. Megan Jones and Sue Li are half-blood. Morag MacDougal- now she was a pureblood. But she is only mentioned a few times, and even then, the physical description she has is from fan sites, not the books. Rochelle takes a quick look at the rest of the names. The Patil twins are right there. Same with Pansy. Lisa Turpin is half-blood, and so is the girl simply referred to in the books as Leanne. That literally only leaves one girl this could be. So she looks at Blaise with a triumphant smile and says, “Morag MacDougal.”

Blaise slowly claps for dramatic effect. “Well done. All correct. How did you figure it out? You looked like you were struggling there.” He smirked a bit, expecting to get an answer to his earlier questions.

Rochelle gestured to her notebook and the list and said, “Process of elimination. Any of the girls on the list who I had already identified or were half-blood or muggleborn were eliminated. That literally only left MacDougal. Everyone else was easier because I had a physical description to work with, but not for MacDougal for some reason.” She huffed and muttered under her breath so low and mumbled that Blaise couldn’t hear, “Fucking Rowling’s lazy writing.”

Blaise’s eyebrow quirked up, and his smile fell to a look of bewilderment. “Physical description? What do you mean?”

Before Rochelle could answer, the door opened and Narcissa entered. She looked poised and cold. The way she did when Rochelle first met her. She looked around the room as she said, “Time to go home, children. The party is wrapping up for the adults, and we still need Draco to open his presents before bed.”

All the children except Draco stood up, including Rochelle. Blaise turned to Rochelle and happily said, "I'll send you an owl. Perhaps we can spend time together before school.”

Rochelle smiled right back and replied, “I’d like that. I’m sure my owl Aether would love the exercise.” Blaise nodded and bowed slightly as a goodbye before turning and walking out the door with the rest of the children. Once alone, Rochelle made her way over to Draco.

She sat down next to him and let out a huge breath she didn't know she was holding. Draco just laughed at her. “That was quite eventful. And I see you got on with Blaise. Should I be worried? You two make a dangerous pair.”

Rochelle laughed softly in return and looked at Draco with a playful glare. “Be afraid. Be very afraid.” That just earned her a poke on the cheek from the boy beside her. She laughed more before continuing. “Sorry, I didn't get along with Parkinson. She’s kind of a brat if I’m honest. She’ll be lucky if I don't settle things the Muggle way the next time she tries something like that. I've got no tolerance for bullies.” She said very poignantly.

Draco tilted his head, his brows crashing together with a ghost of a smile still on his lips. “Do I want to know what the Muggle way is?”

Her smile grew even wider as she laughed slightly harder. “No, probably not.” The two let silence overtake them before Rochelle broke it. “I’ll be late to you opening your presents. I have a meeting with Professor Snape. Which reminds me- Dobby!” There was a crisp pop in the air as Dobby appeared in front of her. “I need you to find Severus Snape and lead him to my room. I would use my recreational room, but I don't have any seating there yet.” Dobby smiled at her and nodded before walking out of the room instead of apparating.

Rochelle herself got up with an annoyed groan and a huff before fixing her clothes and looking at Draco. He was pouting a bit as he said, “You’re still going to be there, right? Just late?” That was just too adorable! Draco is sulking at the idea that Rochelle won't be there! That is a major win toward getting closer!

Rochelle tried her best to repress how happy that made her that Draco got attached and wanted her there. “Yes, I’ll be there, just late. I’ll try and be as fast as I can be and kick him out the moment I’m done.” She then walked out of the room and walked as fast as she could back to her room.