Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The story begins in New York City, at a bustling family-run deli in Brooklyn—Kowalski’s, to be exact. The deli is owned by Tomas Jerzy Kowalski and his brother, Jacob. Tomas handles the business side of things with effortless charm, while Jacob pours his heart into the cooking and baking. Together, they’ve built a thriving cornerstone of the neighborhood.

On this particular day, the deli hums with energy. Tomas chats warmly with customers, his laughter mingling with the lively buzz of conversation. Meanwhile, Jacob is focused in the kitchen, pulling trays of warm pastries from one of the many ovens that give Kowalski’s its signature aroma. At his side stands Bart, Jacob’s eager protégé, carefully plating a fresh apple strudel. Jacob leans over and deftly adds a swirl of cream, his practiced hands moving with precision.

“It looks amazing, Bart! Keep it up,” Jacob says, clapping Bart on the back with a proud smile. Bart’s face lights up with pride, his confidence growing under Jacob’s mentorship.

Jacob was carefully stirring his chicken soup when the chime of the deli door announced the arrival of their favorite customers—Saul and Hedy Goldenberg. The sixty-something billionaire philanthropists, as unassuming as ever, hardly looked the part of their wealth and influence. Their warmth was as much a part of the deli’s atmosphere as the scent of freshly baked bread.

Trailing behind them was a woman of similar age, her sharp gaze softened by a touch of fondness. Hedy’s voice cut through the hum of the bustling deli. “Minnie, I still can’t believe what happened. It’s a shame, a shanda!” she exclaimed, her voice rich with emotion as they settled into their usual booth.

Tomas, ever the welcoming host, turned his attention to the woman accompanying the Goldenberg's. “Ah! Miss McGonagall!” he greeted with a wide smile. “It’s been ages since we’ve seen you in here!”

Minnie McGonagall’s cheeks flushed, her usual composure giving way to a small, shy smile. “It’s only been a few months,” she corrected gently. “You know I spend most of the year in Scotland, at the school.” Her gaze shifted to Bart, the young protégé bustling behind Jacob. A flicker of recognition brightened her expression. Bart, catching her eye, offered a cheerful wave, his pride in his work shining through.

“I see that young Barty is making himself useful,” Minnie remarked warmly as she picked up a menu, her tone carrying a touch of approval. Bart’s grin grew wider, bolstered by the rare acknowledgment from the legendary witch.

Minnie studied Bart for a moment longer, her keen eyes observing his every movement with the discerning air of a seasoned educator. “Jacob, I must say, you’ve taught him well,” she commented, her voice carrying both warmth and admiration. “It’s always rewarding to see young talent being nurtured.”

Jacob chuckled as he wiped his hands on a towel. “Bart’s got the knack, that’s for sure. Kid’s a natural. He’s even started experimenting with recipes—might give me a run for my money soon.” Bart blushed at the praise but couldn’t hide the proud smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, Mr. Kowalski… and you too, Professor McGonagall,” he said shyly, his ears tinged pink.

Tomas slid into the booth with a warm grin, his gaze lingering on Minerva. "Barty has been an incredible help to us, Minnie," he said, taking her hand in his and pressing a gentle kiss to it. "And that’s all thanks to you."

Minerva’s smile deepened, her cheeks faintly flushed at the gesture. "Barty Sr was desperate to pull Junior out of Dumbledore’s clutches," she replied, her tone thoughtful yet tinged with wry humor. "He managed to hold it together long enough to slip Harry’s name into the Goblet. But when it was done, he broke down—outside the Forbidden Forest, of all places. Though I dare say it’s not so forbidden anymore."

She paused, her expression growing sharper as her thoughts turned. "And now, with the real Moody stepping back into the picture… well, that’s going to be quite the shock for Dumbledore," she said, her tone carrying a hint of wry amusement. Before the weight of her words could settle, Jacob arrived at the table, balancing bowls of steaming chicken soup and sandwiches on a tray. He placed the dishes in front of the trio with practiced ease. “And how’s Harry holding up?” he asked, his concern genuine as he glanced at Minnie.

Minnie sighed, a shadow passing over her face. “Ashamed,” she admitted quietly. “He insisted on Cedric winning the tournament, even after saving his life. The guilt he carries… it’s heavier than any of us expected.” She lifted her spoon, taking a sip of the warm soup as silence momentarily hung over the table. Saul and Hedy exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions reflecting equal parts sympathy and determination. 

Their moment of silence was abruptly broken by the gentle hoot of an owl. Bart glanced toward the kitchen, his brow furrowing. "That’s strange. It’s coming from the kitchen window," he remarked, striding toward the back.Entering the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of a reddish-brown owl perched gracefully on the windowsill. Bart’s face lit up with recognition as he approached. “Hello, Mylene. Long time no see,” he said softly, retrieving the envelope clutched in the owl’s talons. His heart skipped as he saw his father’s handwriting on the parchment.

Breaking the seal, Bart read the contents swiftly, his eyes narrowing with urgency. Without hesitation, he returned to the front of the deli, his expression somber. “Everyone, we need to close. We have to re-kosher the kitchen,” he announced firmly, motioning for the customers to leave. One by one, patrons filed out, their chatter giving way to a curious silence.

Once the last customer had exited and the door was locked, Bart approached the table where Tomas, Minnie, and the Goldenberg's were still seated. With deliberate care, he placed the envelope on the table before them. “It’s happened,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with significance. “They voted to remove Dumbledore from Hogwarts.”

The room fell into a charged silence as the weight of Bart's announcement settled over the group. Tomas leaned forward, his fingers brushing the envelope as if its contents might hold answers beyond the words themselves. “It’s finally happened, then,” he murmured, his voice thick with a mix of relief and trepidation. “The tides are turning.”

Minnie straightened in her seat, her features a careful mask of composure, though her clasped hands betrayed a faint tremble. “This changes everything,” she said softly. “Removing Dumbledore… it won’t be just Hogwarts that feels the impact. The entire magical world will ripple from this decision.”

Saul nodded, his expression unreadable. “The question now is whether those ripples will bring progress—or chaos.”

Hedy, never one to mince words, leaned back with a heavy sigh. “Progress doesn’t come without a price, Saul. The question is, who will pay it?”

Bart, standing stiffly by the table, broke the heavy silence. “It’s not just Dumbledore’s removal,” he said, his voice carefully measured. “The letter also mentions that Dumbledore has lost his so-called guardianship of Harry. He’ll now be cared for by… Dolly and Luther King?” Bart frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I don’t think they ever went to Hogwarts.”

Saul reached for the letter, his expression shifting as he read. A flicker of realization crossed his face, followed quickly by a knowing grin. “Dolly and Luther… those are aliases,” he said, his tone light but laced with significance. “That’s Dolores and Kingsley! Those are the names they use when working in the Muggle world.”

Hedy leaned forward, her expression sharp with interest. “Dolores and Kingsley? So, they’re finally stepping forward as Harry’s guardians? I thought Dumbledore had kept that quiet for years.”

“They’re not just stepping forward,” Saul said, handing the letter to Minnie. “They’re his actual godparents. This changes everything.”

Minnie’s lips pressed into a thin line as she scanned the letter, her sharp eyes narrowing. “It certainly does,” she said softly, her voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

Tomas studied the letter thoughtfully, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Bartemius wants you and Hedy in London in a few days. He has a proposition for the two of you,” he said, tapping the parchment lightly. “I may come along as well.”

Minnie placed her hand gently over his, her sharp gaze softened by the familiarity of the moment. “You think that’s a good idea, Husband?” she asked, her tone carrying both curiosity and subtle concern.

Tomas laughed, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oh, Minnie, once that truth serum hits him, I won’t have much of a choice but to make my presence known,” he replied, the confidence in his voice unmistakable. Minerva shook her head fondly, her grip on his hand tightening slightly. “You always did have a flair for dramatic entrances,” she said, her voice rich with affection.

Hedy took a deliberate sip of her coffee, her expression resolute. “Saul, we should make a trip to Gringotts today to put our affairs in order. If we’re leaving for London tomorrow, everything needs to be in place.” Saul nodded thoughtfully, setting the letter aside and meeting her gaze with a look of quiet determination. “Agreed. We’ll need to transfer the necessary funds and check on our vaults. If Bartemius has a proposition, it’s best we’re prepared for anything.”

Saul took his wife’s hand, and the two exited the restaurant, their figures disappearing into the bustling Brooklyn streets. Tomas watched them go before turning his attention back to Minnie, a playful glint in his eye.

“You think Harry will like his great-uncle Tom?” he asked with a smirk, his tone light but carrying an undertone of genuine curiosity.

Minerva raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I suppose that depends on whether you plan to charm him or outwit him,” she replied, her voice tinged with both affection and amusement.

Saul and Hedy stepped into the grand marble halls of the New York branch of Gringotts, their hands clasped together as they navigated the bustling yet orderly scene. The gleaming chandeliers cast a golden glow over the room, and the faint sound of clinking coins echoed in the background.

Approaching the reception desk, Saul offered a warm smile to the stern-faced goblin behind it. “Hello, Avery. The Goldenbergs have a meeting with Jarrod,” he said smoothly, his tone polite yet confident.

Avery’s sharp eyes flicked up from his ledger, studying them for a brief moment before giving a curt nod. “Ah, yes, Mr. and Mrs. Goldenberg. Jarrod is expecting you. He’ll meet you in Vault Room 17,” the goblin replied, gesturing toward the intricate iron doors leading further into the bank. Hedy offered a gracious nod in return, her grip tightening ever so slightly on Saul’s hand as they followed Avery’s instructions.

As they approached Vault 17, the imposing iron doors shimmered faintly in the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. Standing before them was Jarrod, a beaming goblin whose sharp features radiated enthusiasm, flanked by a poised human assistant.

“Ah, Saul and Hedy,” Jarrod greeted warmly, his grin widening. “Or should I say… Salazar and Helga?” There was a knowing twinkle in his eye as he spoke, the revelation hanging in the air like a secret shared between confidants.

Hedy arched an eyebrow but didn’t miss a beat. “Jarrod,” she replied smoothly, her tone polite but guarded. “It seems your reputation for uncovering truths is well-earned.”
Saul chuckled, stepping forward to shake Jarrod’s hand. “It’s always a pleasure, Jarrod. I trust everything is in order?”

The goblin inclined his head with a sly smile. “But of course. Vault 17 awaits, and I assure you, it holds exactly what you’re looking for.”

Saul smiled as he and Hedy stepped into the vault, the air tinged with the faint scent of old parchment and ancient magic. Without hesitation, Saul made a beeline for the center of the room, his gaze locked on the lone item resting on a pedestal—a large, weathered leather book. Its cover bore intricate etchings, the marks of centuries past, and its presence seemed to radiate a quiet, powerful significance.

Reverently, Saul picked up the book, his fingers brushing over the aged leather as though reacquainting himself with an old friend. “This holds the true legacy of Hogwarts,” he whispered, his voice filled with both awe and resolve. “It’s time we brought it home.”

Hedy stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, her smile warm and steady. “Then let’s make sure it reaches the right hands,” she said softly, her words carrying both encouragement and a sense of shared purpose.

Harry sat on the floor of his small, dimly lit room, curled into a tight ball as tears streamed down his face. His body trembled with the weight of his emotions, raw and overwhelming. In the midst of his despair, his gaze fell to his hands—the pink polish on his nails catching the faint light. The sight stirred a mixture of feelings within him, a reflection of a small act of self-expression now shrouded in shame and sorrow.

Harry was back in hell—the Dursleys’ home. After enduring a harrowing year at Hogwarts, the chaos of the Triwizard Tournament still haunted him. He’d barely survived, but the toll was far deeper than the physical scars. He hadn’t forgiven Ron for his betrayal, the sting of their fractured friendship lingering painfully.

The memory of the train ride back stood out like a quiet oasis amidst the storm. Sitting with Hermione in the compartment, he’d allowed her to paint his nails—a small act of comfort, of reclaiming something for himself. For the first time in months, he had felt seen, understood.

But that solace was short-lived. Vernon’s fury erupted the moment he noticed Harry’s nails. He hadn’t said a word during the drive home, but as soon as they arrived, he dragged Harry upstairs and locked him in his room. Two weeks had passed since then, and Harry had been left alone to grapple with his thoughts. The isolation was suffocating, and the walls of his room felt as though they were closing in.

He glanced again at his nails, the pink polish a stark contrast against his pale, calloused hands. Hermione’s laughter echoed faintly in his memory as she painted them, the gentle strokes of the brush a rare moment of light in the darkness. It was a simple act, one he hadn’t realized he’d needed so desperately until it happened.

Harry’s head rested heavily against the carpeted floor, his body too weary to move. The muffled noise from downstairs barely registered—until the shouting started.

“Where’s Harry?” a voice roared, sharp and commanding. Harry’s head jerked up, his heart pounding in his chest.

The shouting continued, louder and more insistent. “If you don’t let us see Harry, it won’t be muggle jail for you!” a woman’s voice warned, brimming with fury.

Harry blinked, his mind racing. “Who’s that?” he murmured weakly, his voice barely above a whisper. He strained to listen as footsteps pounded closer, their urgency echoing up the stairs.“Alohomora!” the woman’s voice cried, and Harry flinched as his locked door clicked open. The door swung wide, revealing two figures: a tall, imposing African man and a striking woman dressed in soft pink. Her face lit up with relief the moment she saw him.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, rushing forward. Her voice was warm, yet filled with concern. Harry stared at them, his mind struggling to process who they were. Before he could speak, the weight of exhaustion overwhelmed him, and the edges of his vision darkened. The last thing he saw was her worried expression as everything went black.

Chapter Text

Harry drifted in and out of consciousness, the world around him a haze of blurred voices and fleeting sensations. The shadows of the room danced in his mind, and amidst the fog, he heard snippets of conversation—raw, heated, and full of emotion.

“I don’t know who I want to deal with first,” the man’s voice growled, sharp with frustration. “The Dursleys or Dumbledore.”

The sound of the woman’s voice followed, her tone firm yet soothing as though grounding the storm brewing around her. “Kingsley, my husband,” she began, her words deliberate. “Dumbledore needs to be alive for his trial. The Dursleys, however, have been sent to prison. Let the muggles handle them.” Her touch was soft against Harry’s fevered skin, an anchor amidst the chaos.

The man, Kingsley, sighed heavily, the weight of his anger subsiding just slightly. “I know, Dolly,” he murmured, his voice calmer now. “At least we have our nephew back.”
Dolly’s response came gently, her words like a balm against the tension in the air. “And godson,” she added, her gaze lingering on Harry, the quiet assurance of her presence offering something he hadn’t felt in years—protection

As Harry lay in the fragile haze of his coma, voices floated to him like fragments of a distant storm. Each voice was distinct, weighted with emotion and purpose, pulling him from the abyss of isolation.

Hermione’s cries pierced through first, her anguish raw and unfiltered. “They arrested Molly Weasley,” she sobbed, her voice trembling. “She and Peter—Wormtail—were behind your parents’ murder. That’s not the worst part, Harry. He’s Ron and Ginny’s real dad. Molly framed Bellatrix Black for torturing the Longbottoms, using her hair and Polyjuice Potion. She did it herself… how could she?”

Harry could hear Hermione’s desperation shift into muffled comfort as another voice soothed her. “Hermione, it’s okay. Daddy and Papa are here,” came Severus Snape’s low, firm tone. Harry’s drifting mind latched onto the warmth in those words, as though even Snape’s uncharacteristic gentleness promised solace. Another familiar voice, steady and kind, followed—Remus Lupin’s. “Hermione misses you, Harry. We all do,” Remus whispered, the quiet ache in his tone unmistakable.

Then, two voices entwined, their unexpected camaraderie touching Harry’s fractured memories. Draco, his usual bravado stripped away, spoke softly. “I’ve been such a jerk. I hope we can be friends when you wake up, Harry,” he said, his voice cracking. Neville replied with gentle certainty, “He’ll like that, Draco. I know he will.”

Lastly, Cedric’s voice filled the room like sunlight piercing through clouds. Harry could sense him reading from Jane Austen, his cadence calm and reassuring, before shifting into something deeply personal. “You might not know this, but I think you’re cute, Harry,” Cedric admitted, his words infused with quiet vulnerability. “When this is over, I hope I can take you out.” A soft peck brushed Harry’s cheek, and Cedric’s parting words lingered. “I’ll love you no matter who you are or what you choose to be. Visiting hours are over, but I’ll be back.”

Between these fleeting voices and the dark cocoon of unconsciousness, Harry dreamed—vivid, unrelenting visions of what he longed to be. Every time he saw himself reflected in the mirror, he wore a flowing pink dress, his hair cascading in shimmering waves down his shoulders. A smile touched his lips in those dreams, an expression of hope as his deepest truth quietly revealed itself: his dream was to be a girl.

The aroma of sizzling bacon filled the air, its warmth curling into his senses like a gentle invitation to wakefulness. Harry blinked against the golden rays of sunlight streaming across his face, the faint melody of a cheerful song accompanying the soft patter of small, energetic feet.

He gazed up at the ceiling, momentarily captivated. It stretched high above him, an enchanting expanse that seemed to mimic the open sky—clouds lazily drifting across a serene blue canvas. For a moment, he wondered if he was dreaming, the atmosphere too peaceful, too perfect.

Sitting up slowly, he let the light wrap around him like a comforting embrace. The song grew louder, the little voice filled with a joy that was both unfamiliar and strangely soothing. Harry’s heart stirred. For the first time in weeks, the world didn’t feel as heavy.

The singing stopped, drawing Harry’s attention to the door of the room he was in. Standing there was a little girl clutching a well-loved stuffed penguin, her bright eyes sparkling with excitement. Beside her, a Corgi puppy wagged its tail energetically, its soft barks filling the space with cheerful noise.

“Hello!” the girl said, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “My name is Ellie. I’m five years old, and I have Down syndrome,” she declared proudly, her beaming smile lighting up the room. Harry couldn’t help but smile back, the girl’s joy proving contagious despite the confusion that swirled in his mind. The Corgi barked again, bounding forward with stubby legs as Ellie’s face lit up even more.

“Dobby! Harry’s awake!” Ellie shouted, her excitement ringing out as the puppy responded with another bark, its tail wagging furiously.

Harry blinked slowly, the sunlight streaming through the enchanted ceiling warming his face. Ellie’s excitement filled the room, her bright energy as contagious as the wagging tail of the little Corgi puppy bounding at her feet. Before he could fully process what was happening, hurried footsteps approached.

A familiar, deep voice echoed in the hallway. “Ellie, slow down! Let Harry settle in!” The tall figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt entered the room, his presence commanding yet calming. Dolly followed closely behind, her face lighting up as she saw Harry sitting upright.

“Well, look at that!” Dolly exclaimed, her voice warm and full of affection. “Our Harry’s awake!”

Ellie clutched her stuffed penguin to her chest, grinning from ear to ear. “Dobby helped wake him up!” she declared proudly, pointing to the enthusiastic puppy at her side.

A house-elf entered the room, his appearance strikingly familiar. He bore an uncanny resemblance to Dobby, yet there was something distinct about him. His eyes widened with joy as he spotted Harry. “Harry Potter! You are awake,” the elf exclaimed, his voice full of warmth.

Harry blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. “There’s… two Dobbys?” he asked hoarsely, looking between the enthusiastic house-elf and the lively Corgi at Ellie’s feet.

Dolly chuckled softly, her laughter light and reassuring. “Not quite, Harry. This is Dobrik, our house-elf,” she explained, motioning to the elf. “And, of course, there’s Dobby the Corgi. Consider yourself doubly looked after,” she added with a warm smile as she perched herself on the edge of the bed.

Her gaze softened as it drifted to Harry’s hair, which had grown longer and wilder than before. She reached out gently, brushing a strand aside. “The healers discovered something remarkable after removing all the magical blocks placed on you,” she said, her tone tinged with both sorrow and anger. “They tried to cut your hair, but the magic inside you wouldn’t allow it. That’s when we uncovered the truth.”

Harry looked at her, his confusion deepening. Dolly’s eyes darkened with quiet fury. “Dumbledore,” she began, her voice steady but laced with disgust, “altered your very essence after your parents’ death. He changed your gender, Harry. Without consent. A man trusted to protect you… and he did this. It’s reprehensible.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of her words settling over them.

Harry’s voice trembled as she spoke, her eyes wide and searching. “So… I’m really a girl?”

Dolly and Kingsley shared a warm, reassuring smile, nodding in unison. “Yes, sweetheart,” Dolly said softly, her tone filled with encouragement. “You’ve always been, deep down.” Tears welled up in Harry’s eyes as a wave of emotion overwhelmed her. She let them fall freely, her chest rising and falling with quiet sobs. “My wish came true,” Harry whispered, her voice shaky yet full of wonder. “I hope you’re not mad…”

Kingsley knelt beside her, his expression gentle and kind. “Mad? Oh, Harry,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “We’re proud of you—for being true to yourself. That’s all we’ve ever wanted for you.” Dolly placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder, her gaze filled with affection. “This is your journey, Harry. And we’re here to walk it with you, every step of the way,” she said softly.

Dobrik approached Harry, his wide eyes filled with warmth and concern. “Harry, is there anything you need? Do you still want to call me Dobby?” he asked earnestly.
Harry let out a soft laugh, the sound feeling strange but welcome after everything. “Dobrik’s fine,” Harry said with a smile. “It suits you!”

The Corgi puppy barked in agreement, wagging its tail furiously as though seconding the decision.

Harry looked back at Dobrik, his expression softening. “Actually, could you let Hermione Granger know I’m awake?” he asked, his voice steady but tinged with anticipation.
Dobrik nodded, his eagerness apparent. “Right away, Harry,” he said before popping away with a faint crack.

The room fell quiet after Dobrik disappeared, leaving Harry alone with Dolly, Kingsley, Ellie, and Dobby the corgi. The little girl clutched her stuffed penguin tightly and approached Harry’s bedside again, her bright curiosity shining through.

“Is Hermione your best friend?” Ellie asked with a cheerful tilt of her head, her voice gentle but eager.
Harry nodded with a small smile. “Yeah, she’s one of the best friends anyone could ask for,” he said softly. His gaze flickered to Kingsley and Dolly. “She’s always stood by me, no matter what.”

Dolly returned the smile, her hands resting in her lap as she spoke. “It sounds like you’ve been blessed with people who truly care about you, Harry.”
Just then, a small pop echoed in the room, and Dobrik reappeared, his expression excited. “Harry Potter, Miss Hermione Granger is on her way!” he announced, clapping his small hands together.

Harry’s eyes widened as she looked down at herself, realizing for the first time what she was wearing. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she murmured, “I’ve been in a coma for a week… and I have nothing to wear.” She glanced over at Dolly, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips despite her embarrassment.

Ellie giggled from the corner, clutching her stuffed penguin. “You’re still pretty, even in pajamas!” she said brightly, her cheerful tone cutting through any awkwardness in the room. Harry patted the little girls hair. 

A few moments later, the door opened, and Hermione burst into the room, closely followed by Snape and Remus. Her bushy hair seemed even more untamed than usual, as if she hadn’t taken a moment to tame it in her rush to get there. Her eyes lit up as she caught sight of Harry.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, running to her without hesitation. She wrapped her arms tightly around Harry, holding on as though she might never let go. Harry stiffened at first, the sudden wave of emotion catching her off guard, but then relaxed into the hug, feeling the familiar comfort of her best friend.

When Hermione finally pulled back, tears glistening in her eyes, she took a good look at Harry, a bright smile breaking across her face. “I knew this was you the whole time,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “You look amazing.” Harry flushed, her cheeks warm as she looked down at herself, unsure how to respond. Before she could find the words, Snape cleared his throat from the doorway, drawing their attention.

“Hermione, sweetheart! Let Harry breathe!” Snape said calmly, his tone unusually gentle as he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “She probably hasn’t even eaten yet, let alone gotten out of bed,” he continued, his lips curving into a rare, comforting smile.

Before Harry could fully process the shift in Snape’s demeanor, he pulled her into a hug—awkward at first, but undeniably warm and genuine. Harry blinked in shock, her mind racing to reconcile this new side of the typically stern man. Remus stepped forward next, pressing a light kiss to the top of her head with a smile. “Did Dolly tell you the news?” he began, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Papa Severus is your uncle!”

Hermione beamed, nodding in excitement. “And that makes us cousins!” she added, her voice filled with joy.

“And I,” Remus said dramatically, placing a hand on his chest, “am your uncle via marriage to this hunk right here,” he teased, motioning toward Snape with a playful grin.

Harry couldn’t help but smile as the lively energy of the house surrounded her, filling the air with warmth she hadn’t felt in so long. The sound of plates clinking and muffled conversation drifted up from downstairs, accompanied by the unmistakable voice of a man calling out.

“Where’s everybody? This breakfast isn’t gonna eat itself!” the man bellowed, his tone both commanding and playful.

Dolly laughed as she stood, her smile as bright as the morning sun. “Coming, Uncle Tom!” she called back, her voice carrying down the hall as she helped guide Ellie toward the door. Ellie turned back to Harry, clutching her stuffed penguin tightly. “You’re gonna love Uncle Tom,” she said with a cheerful grin. “He’s really funny.”

Kingsley motioned for Harry to follow. “Come on, breakfast awaits,” he said warmly. “I think it’s time you properly met the family.”

As Harry climbed out of bed, her heart swelled with a cautious sense of joy. A family breakfast… it was an ordinary thing, but for her, it felt like a whole new world.

Harry followed Dolly and the others downstairs, the smell of breakfast growing stronger with each step. The chatter and clinking of utensils grew louder, and Harry felt a mix of nervousness and curiosity. It had been so long since she’d felt part of a family—if ever.

When they entered the dining room, Harry was greeted by the sight of a large table filled with plates of food: crispy bacon, fluffy pancakes, scrambled eggs, and stacks of toast. At the head of the table stood a tall, burly man with a kind face and an apron that read Master Chef Extraordinaire. He turned to see them enter and broke into a wide grin.
“There you all are!” he boomed with mock impatience, waving a spatula in their direction. “I thought I’d have to eat this all myself!”

“Uncle Tom,” Dolly said with a laugh, rolling her eyes as she led Ellie to a seat. “Don’t scare Harry before she’s even had a chance to meet you.”
Uncle Tom walked over, wiping his hands on his apron before extending one toward Harry. “So, you’re the famous Harry Potter,” he said, his voice warm and welcoming. “I’m Tom, and any friend—or family—of Dolly and Kingsley’s is a friend of mine.”

Harry hesitated for only a moment before shaking his hand, a small smile creeping onto her face. “It’s nice to meet you… Uncle Tom,” she said, the words feeling strange but good. Tom grinned. “Now, let’s sit down before the bacon gets cold! Can’t have that, can we?” he said, ushering everyone to the table.

Harry found herself seated between Ellie, who was deeply focused on buttering her toast. The little girl’s movements were meticulous, as if she’d mastered the art of breakfast preparation. Harry watched in amazement as Ellie carefully added a layer of jam to her toast with precision. “How does she do that so perfectly?” Harry asked Kingsley, her voice filled with wonder.

Kingsley chuckled softly. “Montessori school,” he explained. “Since Ellie can’t attend magical school, we enrolled her in a muggle school that embraces inclusion. It’s been a wonderful fit for her.” Dolly smiled as she poured juice into Harry’s glass. “It’s quite ironic, isn’t it? Considering Dumbledore’s stance on non-magical traditions. Both Montessori and Waldorf were actually wizards and witches themselves—true visionaries. Their philosophies were even inspired by Helga and Salazar’s teachings at Hogwarts.”

Harry blinked, her mind reeling from the unexpected connection. Before she could fully respond, Snape strode into the room, his dark robes billowing slightly as he took a seat between Hermione and Remus. His sharp eyes scanned the table. “Where’s Aunt Minnie?” he inquired, his tone neutral yet genuinely curious.

Tom, who was standing by the counter, poured himself a steaming cup of coffee, his apron slightly askew. “She decided to take the muggle way back to London—a plane, of all things,” he said with a grin. “Jet lag’s got the better of her, I imagine.”

Just as laughter rippled around the table, the sound of soft footsteps approached. The dining room door creaked open, and Minnie entered. Though her posture spoke of weariness, her presence was as commanding as ever. Without missing a beat, she walked over to Tom, plucked the coffee cup from his hand, and took a long sip, her sharp smile teasing. “Thank you, husband. Just what I needed,” she said, her eyes sparkling with dry humor.

Harry’s confusion lingered as she glanced at Ellie, her mind grappling with the reasons behind her absence from magical schooling. Hermione’s curiosity matched Harry’s as she voiced the question that had been silently hanging in the air. “Why doesn’t Ellie go to a school like ours?” she asked, her tone laced with concern.

Kingsley’s gaze softened as he looked at Ellie, who continued quietly eating her toast. He sighed deeply before responding. “It’s because Dumbledore issued an executive order long ago, barring students with disabilities from attending magical schools,” he explained somberly.

Dolly’s face darkened, her anger unmistakable as she spoke. “He believed such students didn’t belong in our community,” she said, her tone steady but heavy with quiet fury. “It’s an outdated and incredibly harmful perspective. He even used cruel, dehumanizing language to describe them—words I will not repeat.”

The room fell silent for a moment before Ellie’s soft voice broke the tension. “I don’t like that word,” she murmured, clutching her stuffed penguin tightly to her chest. Her gaze dropped, and a hint of sadness flickered across her small face. “It makes me cry.”

Harry reached out without hesitation, taking Ellie’s small hand in hers. Her grip was gentle but reassuring, an unspoken promise of safety. “Me and Hermione will make sure that you get to go to Hogwarts,” Harry said firmly, her voice filled with determination. Ellie’s eyes lit up, her lips curving into a shy smile. “Really?” she whispered, her voice tinged with cautious hope. Hermione stepped closer, her expression bright and unwavering. “Absolutely,” she said with conviction. “You belong there, Ellie. Just as much as anyone else.”

Ellie’s smile widened, the sadness fading as joy took its place. She clutched her stuffed penguin even tighter, her excitement shining through. “Thank you, Harry! Thank you, Hermione!” she said, her voice bubbling with gratitude.

Hermione and Harry sat in the cozy home library, their books open but barely touched. They pretended to be deeply engrossed in their reading, though their attention was clearly elsewhere. From the adjacent room, the faint hum of adult voices drifted through, growing louder with bursts of distinct conversation.

“Saul and Hedy met with Barty Sr., Amelia, and Fudge over lunch yesterday,” one voice carried through, its tone brisk and purposeful. “They’re bringing Ragnok in to oversee the Hogwarts accounts. Something a certain somebody couldn’t be bothered doing during his time as headmaster.”

Harry exchanged a glance with Hermione, her eyes wide with intrigue. Hermione raised her eyebrows meaningfully, leaning slightly closer as if they’d both silently agreed to eavesdrop just a little longer. Hermione turned a page in her book for appearance’s sake, her expression thoughtful. “Ragnok,” she whispered almost inaudibly, her curiosity evident. “Goblin oversight. That could shake things up.”

Harry’s smile widened, her curiosity drawing her deeper into the hushed conversation filtering through the walls. She and Hermione remained in the library, books open but barely glanced at as the voices from the other room grew clearer, offering tantalizing snippets of information.

“Saul even recommended a new headmaster,” a voice declared, tinged with excitement. “A Miss Bernisha Onai. Her great-grandmother is none other than Mudiwa Onai.”
Hermione’s eyes widened, her hand freezing mid-page turn. She leaned closer to Harry, whispering just loud enough for her friend to hear, “Mudiwa Onai? She was a Divination professor back when Nigellus Black was headmaster. She revolutionized the subject.”

Harry tilted her head, intrigued by the revelation. “Nigellus Black? That was a long time ago,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “If Bernisha’s connected to someone like Mudiwa Onai, she might have a lot to offer Hogwarts.” Hermione nodded, her excitement evident. “Mudiwa was ahead of her time—brilliant and respected in equal measure. If her great-granddaughter is anything like her, this could mean real change for Hogwarts.

Another voice chimed in, warm and familiar—it was Tom’s. “Jacob wrote to me,” he said, a note of anticipation in his tone. “He’ll accept the culinary professor position, but there’s one condition.” Snape’s voice followed, sharp and curious. “And that is?” he asked. Tom grinned as he replied, “If Newt gets to teach as well.” For a moment, there was a pause, as if the weight of the announcement needed time to sink in. Then the room erupted into a flurry of excitement, voices overlapping with enthusiastic approval. 

Tom’s booming laughter filled the room, its infectious energy adding to the lively atmosphere. “The funny part is,” he managed between chuckles, “he already accepted!”
The room erupted into more laughter and murmurs of delight. 

A sudden crack echoed through the room where the adults were gathered. Kingsley’s voice boomed with anticipation, cutting through the initial silence. “Ah, Fudge! What news do you have to share?” he asked, his tone half-joking but filled with eagerness.

Fudge, visibly emotional, took a moment to compose himself before speaking. “Lucius insisted the vote happen,” he began, his voice trembling as he delivered the news. “Article 21 has been unanimously repealed!”The room erupted into a cacophony of cheers and joyful exclamations. Dolly jumped to her feet, her face alight with excitement as she yelled, “This is amazing news! Ellie gets to go to Hogwarts!”

Meanwhile, in the library, Harry and Hermione exchanged surprised glances as the distant sound of celebration reached them. They shifted their attention to Ellie, who sat quietly on the floor, her crayons scattered as she diligently colored in her book. Dobby the corgi lay beside her, tail wagging lazily.

Just as Harry was about to say something to Hermione, the creak of footsteps approaching the library door caught their attention. Their hearts quickened slightly, wondering who might step into the room with news of what they had overheard.

The library door creaked open, and Dolly stepped in, her face glowing with joy and excitement. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, instinctively closing their books and leaning forward slightly, sensing she carried important news.

“Harry, Hermione,” Dolly began, her voice trembling with emotion. “The vote is done. Article 21 has been repealed. Ellie is going to Hogwarts!”

Hermione gasped, her eyes lighting up. “That’s incredible!” she exclaimed, her excitement spilling over. Harry’s heart swelled as she glanced at Ellie, who was still engrossed in her coloring, blissfully unaware of the life-changing news that had just been delivered. Dolly crossed the room to Ellie and knelt beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Ellie, sweetheart,” she said softly, her voice filled with tenderness. “Guess what? You’re going to Hogwarts!”

Ellie paused, her crayon hovering above the page as she looked up at her mother. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Really?” she whispered, her voice trembling with hope.
Harry and Hermione joined Dolly, their smiles as bright as Ellie’s growing one. “It’s official,” Harry said, kneeling beside her. “You’re going to be a Hogwarts student.”

Dobby barked happily, as if joining in the celebration, while Ellie let out a laugh that turned into a delighted squeal. She threw her arms around Dolly, her joy overflowing.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Ellie said, her voice ringing through the library. The moment was filled with warmth and happiness, a sign of brighter days ahead for Ellie—and for everyone who had fought so hard to make this possible.

As the library filled with Ellie’s joyful laughter, the adults soon joined Harry and Hermione, their faces reflecting the excitement of the news. Dolly stood beside Ellie, her arm wrapped around her daughter, while Kingsley entered with a proud smile. Snape followed close behind, his expression more subdued but no less genuine.

Tom clapped his hands together, his booming voice cutting through the hum of celebration. “This calls for a proper feast!” he declared, his enthusiasm contagious. “Ellie, it’s not every day you get to celebrate such big news.”

Kingsley knelt beside Ellie, his voice filled with warmth. “This is just the beginning, Ellie. Hogwarts is going to be lucky to have you,” he said, his words steady and reassuring.

At Hogsmeade Station, the chill of the Scottish air nipped at the woman’s face as she lugged her heavy trunk across the platform. The younger African woman, with her confident stance yet slightly frazzled demeanor, glanced around for a kind soul willing to offer a hand. Her eyes fell on a towering figure just ahead, impossible to miss—the very definition of humongous.

“Are you Bernisha Onai?” the man asked, his gruff yet kind voice cutting through the bustle around them. His wild beard and beetle-black eyes softened as he looked at her.
Bernisha straightened, brushing a stray curl from her face. “Yes, I am,” she said, her voice calm but carrying a hint of relief.

The giant man broke into a warm smile. “Ah, my apologies for not introducin’ myself sooner. I’m Rubeus Hagrid—Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts,” he said, extending a hand large enough to swallow hers whole. “Welcome, Miss Onai. Let me take that trunk for yeh.”

Without waiting for an answer, Hagrid easily hoisted the cumbersome trunk onto his shoulder, as though it weighed nothing more than a feather. Bernisha blinked in amazement, the tension in her shoulders easing as she matched his smile. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I wasn’t sure if anyone was meeting me.”

Hagrid let out a hearty chuckle, his cheerful demeanor lighting up the snowy platform. “Of course, we couldn’t leave yeh stranded, now, could we?” he said, his voice rich with humor. “Now, let’s get yeh sorted. There’s a carriage waitin’ to take yeh up ter the castle. Or… would yeh fancy takin’ the scenic route?”

Bernisha paused for a moment, her gaze drifting to the surrounding hills dusted with snow and the faint silhouette of the castle spires beyond. “The scenic route sounds lovely,” she replied, her voice steady but tinged with curiosity. “It’s my first time here. I’d love to take it all in.”

Hagrid grinned broadly, his eyes twinkling beneath his bushy brows. “Ah, good choice,” he said with a nod, adjusting the trunk on his shoulder effortlessly. “There’s magic in these parts, Miss Onai—worth takin’ the time to enjoy.”

He gestured for her to follow, leading her along a winding trail that promised breathtaking views of the ancient castle nestled amidst the Scottish landscape. The anticipation in the air was palpable, and Bernisha couldn’t help but feel the stirrings of excitement for the adventure that awaited her at Hogwarts.

As Bernisha followed Hagrid along the winding trail, the scenery grew more breathtaking with every step. The crunch of snow beneath their boots blended with the crisp summer air, and the towering spires of Hogwarts rose into view, majestic against the pale, expansive sky. Each detail was imbued with an almost ethereal charm, filling Bernisha with a blend of awe, excitement, and a twinge of nervous anticipation.

Hagrid glanced down at her, his easy grin as constant as the warmth radiating from his voice. “So, Miss Onai,” he said, his grip steady on her trunk, which sat effortlessly balanced on his broad shoulder. “How’s it feel, knowin’ yeh’ll be wearin’ the headmaster hat?”

Bernisha let out a soft, thoughtful laugh, the sound carrying just above the faint rustling of the wind. “It feels… monumental,” she admitted after a pause, her gaze fixed on the silhouette of the castle. “There’s so much history tied to this role, so many stories. It’s humbling—and honestly, a little daunting.”

Hagrid chuckled warmly, his strides unfazed by the uneven dirt path ahead. “Ah, that’s ter be expected,” he said in a reassuring tone. “But let me tell yeh—Hogwarts has a way o’ guidin’ folk to where they’re meant ter be. Yeh’ll find yer stride soon enough. And if yeh ask me, yeh’ll do more than fine. Better than fine, I reckon.”

The trail curved slightly, offering a clearer view of Hogwarts in all its splendor. Bernisha slowed, savoring the sight as the castle’s ancient walls seemed to pulse with quiet magic, welcoming her. Her chest swelled with determination.

Argus Filch stood near the wrought-iron gates of Hogwarts, cradling Mrs. Norris in his arms. The feline’s sharp eyes scanned the approaching figures, her tail twitching in what seemed like approval. Filch squinted through the dimming light, his weathered face breaking into an uncharacteristic smile as he caught sight of them.

He raised a hand in a small wave, his voice raspy but carrying a rare note of warmth. “Hagrid, is that our new Head?”

Hagrid grinned broadly, nodding as he adjusted the trunk on his shoulder. “Aye, Argus, it is. Meet Miss Bernisha Onai, our new Headmistress.”

Filch extended his hand, his grip surprisingly firm but welcoming as he shook Bernisha’s hand warmly. “I’ve heard so many things about your family, Miss Onai,” he said, his voice carrying an unexpected sincerity. “It’s an honor to have you here.”

Bernisha smiled, her gaze softening at his words. “Thank you, Mr. Filch. I’m excited to be here and to carry on the legacy my family has built.”

Filch gave a small nod, his posture straightening slightly as though proud to be part of this moment. “We’ve only got a short time before the students return for the school year,” he continued, his tone shifting to his usual matter-of-fact demeanor. “A lot of things need updating around here—but I reckon if we get started now, we’ll be ahead of time.”

“That sounds perfect,” Bernisha replied, her voice steady with determination. “I’m ready to get started.”

“Good, good,” Filch said, adjusting Mrs. Norris, who purred contentedly in his arms. “Come along, then. I’ll show you to your office and private quarters. Best you settle in before the real chaos begins.” Bernisha followed Filch as he led the way through the sprawling corridors of the castle. The torches lining the walls flickered with a warm, magical glow, and every step felt like she was walking deeper into the pages of history. The air was filled with both a sense of anticipation and quiet determination as she took the first steps toward making Hogwarts her home.

As Filch guided Bernisha through the labyrinthine corridors of Hogwarts, the castle seemed to breathe around them. Every creak of the ancient stones, every flicker of torchlight was infused with a sense of wonder and history. Mrs. Norris trotted ahead, her tail swaying lazily as though she were personally overseeing the procession.

They stopped in front of a grand wooden door, intricately carved with swirling patterns that seemed to shift under the flickering light. “Here we are,” Filch announced, his voice tinged with pride as he pushed the heavy door open to reveal a cozy but elegant office. “Your office, Headmistress. Private quarters are just through the door in the back.”
Bernisha stepped inside, her eyes sweeping over the space. The office was warm and inviting, with shelves of books lining the walls and a large desk that sat at the center, its polished wood gleaming. A window overlooked the castle grounds, offering a breathtaking view of the Forbidden Forest and the distant silhouette of Hogsmeade.

“It’s perfect,” Bernisha said softly, her fingers brushing against the edge of the desk as she took it all in. The room seemed to hum with magic, as though welcoming her presence. Filch nodded, his arms crossed. “Figured yeh might like it. Plenty of room fer whatever yeh need, and a bit of history built in,” he said, his tone almost nostalgic.
Bernisha turned to face him, her smile warm. “Thank you, Mr. Filch. I appreciate everything you’ve done to make this transition smooth. It’s a lot to take in, but I couldn’t be more grateful.”

Mrs. Norris rubbed against Filch’s leg, prompting him to glance down with a small smirk. “Well, I’ll leave yeh to settle in. If yeh need anything, Miss Onai, I’ll be around. Just holler.” With that, Filch exited, leaving Bernisha alone in her new office. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her new role settle on her shoulders—but with it came a renewed sense of purpose. This was her space, her opportunity to shape the future of Hogwarts. The possibilities were endless.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Bernisha carefully placed the portrait on the mantelpiece above her desk. The painting depicted her grandmother standing proudly in front of the Hogwarts castle, their expressions warm and full of life. The artistry was so vivid it felt as though they were frozen in a moment of joy.

Bernisha took a step back, her voice steady yet filled with emotion. “Great Grandma Natty, you’re home,” she announced with quiet reverence.

For a moment, the portrait remained still, but then the figures stirred. Great-Grandmother Natty, her features as wise and sharp as the history Bernisha had grown up admiring, adjusted her shawl and leaned forward. “Home, you say?” she murmured, her voice rich and alive as it resonated from the canvas.

Her grandmother beside her smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling with recognition. “Bernisha,” she said softly, “you’ve made it. The headmaster's office suits you already.”
Bernisha blinked back the overwhelming wave of emotion, a smile spreading across her face. “I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me, but I’ll make you proud,” she said firmly, her words filled with quiet determination.

Natty gave a gentle nod, her expression filled with pride. “Remember,” she said, her tone filled with wisdom that transcended generations, “Hogwarts thrives not on power, but on the courage and hearts of those who walk its halls. Lead with that, and you’ll leave your mark.”

The portrait settled back into stillness, but the warmth of their encouragement lingered in the air. Bernisha let out a deep breath, her heart full as she glanced at the portrait one last time before turning to face the tasks ahead.

Chapter Text

The warm days of summer seemed to blend together, the laughter and lightness stretching across the season with ease. Towards the end of July, the morning sun bathed the cozy kitchen in its glow, the scent of breakfast wafting through the air.

Ellie was perched at the table, nibbling on her bacon as her penguin sat loyally beside her chair. The quiet hum of summer peace was interrupted by the unmistakable flutter of wings outside the window. Dolly glanced up, her expression shifting to curiosity as she spotted two owls—Hedwig, Harry’s trusty companion, and Denali, the Umbridge-Shacklebolt family owl—hovering just beyond the glass.

She moved to open the window, allowing the owls to sweep inside. Hedwig landed gracefully on the edge of the table, her snowy feathers glinting in the sunlight, while Denali perched on the back of a nearby chair, his sharp eyes locked on Dolly. Both carried letters tied neatly to their legs.
With practiced ease, Dolly untied the parchment. “Harry’s schedule for next term,” she murmured, setting one aside. Her fingers gently unrolled the second letter, and as her eyes scanned the page, her face lit up with joy.

“Ellie!” Dolly exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement. “It’s here—your Hogwarts acceptance letter!” Ellie froze, her tiny hands clutching her bacon as she stared at Dolly wide-eyed. “It’s official?” she asked, her voice trembling with disbelief.

Dolly nodded, holding the letter up like a precious treasure. “Official, sweetheart. You’re going to Hogwarts!” The room was filled with Ellie’s delighted laughter and squeals of joy, the sunny morning now carrying an extra layer of magic and promise for the new chapter that awaited.

Kingsley entered the dining room, his voice booming with a mix of disbelief and satisfaction. “I still can’t believe Lucius convinced the Ministry to lower the age. Finally, little ones can enjoy Hogwarts the way it should be!” he declared as he leaned down, placing kisses on the tops of Ellie and Harry's heads.

Ellie giggled at the affectionate gesture, while Harry’s face broke into a warm smile. The morning hum of the house was further enlivened when Dobrik entered, balancing a fresh platter of waffles. The buttery scent mingled with the sunny atmosphere, drawing appreciative glances from everyone at the table.

Dolly, ever the attentive one, glanced at the parchment in her hands—the letter sent to all parents outlining the sweeping changes to Hogwarts’ curriculum. “So, what classes are you taking, Harry?” Dolly asked, her tone curious as her eyes skimmed over the Ministry updates. “I see they’ve removed Defense Against the Dark Arts and Divination. Bold moves.”

Harry nodded, a spark of excitement lighting up her eyes as a smile spread across her face. “The usual core classes,” she began, her tone thoughtful yet animated. “But this year, I’m branching out. I’m taking Arts, Crafts & Handiwork with Professor Katina, Cooking with—of course—Great-Uncle Jacob,” she added with a warm laugh. “And Cultural Studies with Professor Mitsui. I think it’s going to be a great term.

Kingsley glanced at Ellie’s acceptance letter, his eyes lighting up with pride. “It seems your classes will be on a Waldorf level, Ellie,” he said with a smile, his voice full of encouragement.Ellie looked up, her curiosity piqued. “Do I get to stay in a dorm?” she asked eagerly, her voice laced with hope. Dolly shook her head gently but smiled reassuringly. “No, sweetheart, but you’ll get to stay with Mommy and Daddy in the Guardian Tower.”

Ellie’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion. “What’s the Guardian Tower?” she asked, tilting her head.

Kingsley chuckled warmly and leaned down to her level. “Every magical school in the world has one,” he explained, his voice steady and comforting. “It’s the magical equivalent of a Quaker Warden. The Guardian Tower is where adults stay who are here to make the school a safe and welcoming place for everyone.”

Ellie’s face fell slightly as she processed the news. “Does this mean I won’t be sorted?” she asked, her voice trembling as her eyes welled up.

Before Dolly could respond, Harry slid an arm around Ellie, pulling her into a reassuring hug. “You’ll still get sorted, Ellie,” Harry said, her tone kind and steady. “You’ll get your house just like everyone else. You just get to stay with Mommy and Daddy a little longer while you’re still young. And that’s pretty special, don’t you think?”

Ellie sniffled and leaned into Harry’s embrace, a small smile forming as she nodded. “Yeah, I guess it is special.”

A pinkish owl fluttered gracefully through the window, its wings shimmering in the morning light. Harry’s eyes lit up as she spotted the familiar creature. “That’s Hermione’s owl!” she exclaimed, walking over with quick but steady steps. The owl hooted softly, leaning into Harry’s touch as she gently patted its sleek feathers. “I guess Hermione’s already received her letter,” Harry said with a smile, as she untied the envelope from the owl’s leg.

She chuckled as she opened the letter and read aloud, her amusement evident. “Daddy Remy and Papa Sev want to go school shopping now—before it gets crazy!”

Harry chuckled as she set Hermione’s letter down on the table, her smile bright with amusement. “Looks like Daddy Remy and Papa Sev are in a rush to avoid the madness,” she said with a playful glint in her eyes.Dolly laughed, shaking her head fondly as she continued sipping her tea. “Well, it’s not a bad idea. Diagon Alley can get overwhelming this time of year,” she remarked. “Perhaps we should join the early birds. Ellie’s wand isn’t going to choose itself.”

Ellie perked up at the mention of her wand, her excitement bubbling over. “We’re going today? Really?” she asked eagerly, practically bouncing in her seat.
Kingsley smiled warmly at the little girl’s enthusiasm. “That’s the plan, Ellie. We’ll handle your shopping early, and who knows? We might even bump into Hermione and the others.”

Dobrik entered the room, balancing yet another platter—this time stacked with crispy hash browns. “Plenty of energy before a shopping spree,” he quipped with a grin. “You’ll need it.”

As Harry guided Ellie into Diagon Alley, the cobblestone streets buzzed with energy, filled with witches, wizards, and magical creatures going about their day. Shops with colorful signs and enchanted displays lined the street, each one offering a glimpse into the wonders of the wizarding world.

Ellie tightened her grip on Harry’s hand, her eyes wide with awe as she tried to take it all in. Broomsticks zoomed past above their heads, and cauldrons of various sizes gleamed in shop windows. The aroma of fresh-baked goods from a nearby bakery mingled with the faint scent of potion ingredients wafting from apothecaries.

“Wow,” Ellie whispered, the single word barely escaping her lips as her gaze darted from one extraordinary sight to the next.

Harry smiled down at her, a sense of joy swelling as she watched Ellie’s wonder unfold. “It’s even better than I remember,” Harry said, her own excitement reflected in her voice.

Harry and Ellie stepped into Ollivanders, the bell above the door chiming softly as they entered. The shop had a refreshed feel to it, with polished shelves neatly stacked with boxes of wands, each labeled with care. The air buzzed faintly with magic, and Ellie’s eyes widened as she took it all in.

Across the counter, Garrick Ollivander stood with a younger woman who wore her dreadlocks tied back elegantly. He was speaking in his signature quiet, wise tone, his eyes fixed on her as though ensuring every word landed with importance. “Now, Dasha,” he said, his voice firm yet encouraging, “this is your first day as a wandmaker. You’ve had years of practice, studying the craft. Are you ready to guide witches and wizards to their perfect match?”

Dasha nodded, her expression a mix of determination and nervous excitement. “I’m ready, Mr. Ollivander,” she replied, her voice steady despite the palpable anticipation in the room.

Harry suppressed a smile, her hand gently squeezing Ellie’s. The family waited quietly, not wanting to interrupt. Ellie tugged on Harry’s sleeve, her voice just above a whisper. “Is she going to help me find my wand?” Ellie asked, the excitement in her tone barely contained.

Garrick’s ears perked at the sound of movement behind him, and he turned sharply. His face lit up with recognition, a warm smile spreading across his features. “Ah! Harry Potter!” he exclaimed, stepping forward. “And this must be Ellie. A momentous day—your first wand! Welcome, welcome.”
Dasha smiled brightly, her nerves easing at Garrick’s jovial tone. She turned to Ellie, her excitement matching the young girl’s. “Shall we help you find your wand, then?” she asked kindly.

Ellie beamed, her hands clasped tightly. “Yes, please!” she said, practically bouncing with eagerness.

Garrick stepped aside, his smile warm and welcoming. “Dasha, why don’t you take the lead with Ellie’s wand selection? It’s the perfect way to start your first day.”

Dasha nodded, her enthusiasm shining through as she gently gestured for Ellie to follow her to the front counter. “All right, Miss Ellie,” she said kindly, her voice calm yet energetic. “We’re going to find the wand that’s meant for you. Every witch or wizard has one waiting—it’s just about the right match.”

Ellie’s eyes sparkled as she stepped forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “What do I do?” she asked eagerly, glancing between Dasha and the towering shelves filled with neatly stacked wand boxes.

“Well,” Dasha began, her tone encouraging, “we’ll start by figuring out some basics. Let’s see, how about your wand hand? Are you right-handed or left-handed?”

“Right-handed!” Ellie replied confidently, holding up her small hand for emphasis. Dasha smiled and nodded, pulling a measuring tape from her pocket. “Perfect. Now, we’ll take a few measurements.”

As Dasha worked, the enchanted measuring tape moved on its own, taking notes of Ellie’s arm length, wrist flexibility, and even the distance between her fingers. Ellie giggled as the tape tickled her palm, and Dasha couldn’t help but laugh softly as well.

Garrick watched from the side, his eyes twinkling. “That’s the spirit, Ellie. Now, the magic will guide us to the wand that’s truly yours.”

With the measurements complete, Dasha turned to the shelves, her fingers gliding over the labels as she murmured thoughtfully to herself. Finally, she selected a slender box and carried it to Ellie. Opening it carefully, she revealed a wand of elegant mahogany with a shimmering golden core.

“All right, Ellie,” Dasha said, handing her the wand delicately. “Give it a little wave.” Ellie took the wand, her small fingers wrapping around it firmly. As she gave it a gentle flick, a brilliant stream of golden sparks shot from the tip, filling the room with warm, radiant light. Ellie gasped in amazement, her smile as bright as the sparks.

Dasha beamed. “It seems we’ve found your match. Mahogany with a phoenix feather core—eleven inches, slightly springy. A wand built for creativity and resilience.” Ellie looked up at Harry, her face glowing with excitement. “Did you see that? It’s my wand!”

Harry laughed, her heart swelling with pride. “I did, Ellie. It’s absolutely perfect.”

As they stepped out of Ollivanders, Ellie clutching her wand tightly, the bustling street revealed familiar faces. Standing near a shop filled with quills and parchment were the Snape-Lupins, accompanied by Hermione. Hermione’s hair was styled in playful pigtails, and she wore comfortable overalls that gave her a carefree and practical look.

Severus Snape’s sharp gaze softened as he noticed Ellie’s excitement, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Ah, I see Miss Ellie has found her wand,” he said, his tone gentle as he studied the finely crafted wand in her hands.

Remus Lupin, standing beside him, offered a warm smile. “Congratulations, Ellie. That’s quite an important moment—your very first wand. How does it feel?” he asked kindly.
Ellie’s cheeks flushed with joy as she held the wand out proudly. “It feels amazing!” she exclaimed, her voice brimming with happiness. “It even made golden sparks!”

Snape furrowed his brow, his tone filled with curiosity as he asked, “Did the children receive a uniform list? We didn’t get one. How strange.”

Dolly turned toward him with a reassuring smile. “We were just about to head to Madam Malkin’s to ask about it,” she said warmly. “Why don’t you join us? It’ll be quicker to sort this out together.” Snape nodded thoughtfully, and Remus gave a gentle smile, placing a hand on Snape’s shoulder. “A good idea,” Remus remarked. “I’m sure Madam Malkin will have the answers we’re looking for.”

With that, the group began their walk toward Madam Malkin’s, their pace brisk but relaxed as they navigated the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. Ellie clutched her wand tightly, still beaming with excitement, while Hermione chatted animatedly about the new school year.

As they stepped into Madam Malkin’s shop, the group immediately noticed the Malfoys engaged in conversation with the seamstress. Lucius stood with his usual poised demeanor, gesturing lightly as he spoke with Madam Malkin, while Narcissa radiated elegance, her attention shifting as the doorbell chimed.

Narcissa’s face lit up with recognition, her smile warm and welcoming. “Ah, Snape and Dolly—my dear cousins!” she exclaimed, moving gracefully toward them and pulling each into a hug. “How lovely to see you here!”Dolly returned the embrace with a fond smile. “It’s good to see you too, Narcissa. Shopping early, I presume?”

“Indeed,” Narcissa replied, her tone light yet amused. “I was just speaking to Malkin here—apparently Hogwarts is doing away with strict uniforms this year. Students will have the freedom to express themselves, though traditional robes will still be an option.”

Lucius glanced over at Narcissa, his expression neutral but his voice carrying an edge of pragmatism. “A fascinating shift, though I question the practicality. Draco—why don’t you explore the shop while we finalize matters here?”

Draco nodded curtly, his attention already drifting toward the polished shelves of robes and accessories. Ellie tugged lightly on Harry’s hand, glancing up at her cousin with curiosity. “Does that mean I don’t have to wear a uniform?” she whispered.

Harry chuckled softly, bending down to Ellie’s level. “You can wear robes if you want, Ellie, but it sounds like you’ll have plenty of choices. Isn’t that exciting?”

Ellie nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling as Narcissa turned her attention to the young girl. “Ah, this must be Ellie,” she said warmly. “Finding her way into the world of magic, I see. And you’ve already chosen your wand—how marvelous!”

Ellie nodded eagerly, her excitement still bubbling as she clung to her wand. Madam Malkin stepped forward, her sharp, practiced gaze falling on Harry and Ellie with a warm yet professional smile.“Ah, Miss Potter,” she said, her tone delighted but tinged with purpose. “I believe it’s time for a re-measurement. I have an extraordinary new collection that you simply must try. Perfect for someone who is finally stepping out of her shell.”

Harry blinked, slightly taken aback but curious as she exchanged a glance with Ellie. “A new collection?” she asked, her tone amused. “You always have something brilliant up your sleeve, Madam Malkin.”

Madam Malkin chuckled softly, her attention turning to Ellie. “And this young lady—Miss Umbridge-Shacklebolt,” she said warmly. “We’ll need to measure her as well. Trella!” she called out, her voice carrying through the shop. “Come over and help with Miss Umbridge-Shacklebolt! She specializes in fittings for our younger students.”

A cheerful young assistant with bright, energetic eyes hurried forward, her measuring tape already in hand. “Right away, Madam Malkin,” Trella said enthusiastically, kneeling down to Ellie’s level with a friendly smile. Ellie giggled, her nervousness melting away as Trella’s tape began its precise work, enchanted to move on its own. Harry watched with an encouraging smile, her hand resting lightly on Ellie’s shoulder as Madam Malkin began selecting fabrics and designs.

Madam Malkin’s voice carried a tone of excitement as she sifted through her racks of fabric and designs. “I heard the school will be hosting a spring dance this year,” she said, her hands brushing along the smooth silks and satins. “We absolutely must find you the perfect dress, Miss Potter. Something that truly shines!”

Harry, caught up in the moment, was only half-listening as her eyes drifted across the shop. Her gaze froze as it landed on a dress displayed near the corner—a soft pink creation with flowing layers and a hint of shimmer. It was breathtakingly familiar, its gentle elegance pulling at her memory.

Her heart skipped a beat as the realization dawned on her. The dress from my dream… she thought, the image of the same flowing fabric flickering in her mind. It was as if the gown had stepped straight out of her imagination and into reality. Madam Malkin followed Harry’s gaze, her sharp eyes noticing the young witch’s captivated expression. “Ah,” she said, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “A fine choice indeed. Shall we see how it suits you?”

Harry hesitated for a moment, her hand instinctively brushing against the soft fabric of the pink dress. She could barely take her eyes off it, as if it were calling to her. Madam Malkin noticed her lingering gaze and gently took the dress off its stand.

“Why don’t you try it on, dear?” Madam Malkin offered warmly, holding the gown out toward Harry. “It seems this dress and you are meant to meet.”

Dolly smiled knowingly, nudging Harry lightly. “Go on. It’s not every day you find a dress that seems to come straight from your dreams.”

Ellie, now finished with her measurements, clutched her freshly fitted robes and watched Harry with bright, curious eyes. “It’s so pretty, Harry!” she exclaimed. “I think you’d look amazing in it.” Harry hesitated, then nodded, her lips curving into a small, shy smile. “All right,” she said softly, taking the dress from Madam Malkin’s hands. She disappeared into the fitting room, her heart pounding with a mix of nerves and anticipation.

When she finally stepped out, the room seemed to pause. The pink dress fit her perfectly, the flowing layers draping elegantly and catching the light in a way that made it almost glow. Harry caught her reflection in the mirror, her breath hitching at the sight. She felt different—confident, radiant, and more herself than she had in a long time.

Dolly clasped her hands together, her eyes misty with emotion. “Harry, you look… stunning,” she said, her voice filled with pride.

Ellie beamed, clapping her hands. “You look like a princess!” she declared, her excitement contagious.

Madam Malkin smiled softly, her eyes full of approval. “A perfect choice, if I do say so myself,” she said with a nod. “You’ll turn heads, my dear.”

After wrapping up their purchases and leaving Madam Malkin's, the group made their way to Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour. The cheerful chime of the door welcomed them as they stepped inside, the cool air and sweet aroma offering a refreshing respite from the lively buzz of Diagon Alley. 

As they enjoyed their treats, they couldn’t help but notice familiar faces passing by—other families preparing for the school year, all sharing in the unique magic of Diagon Alley.

"Harry!" a familiar voice called out, warm and cheerful. Harry looked up from her ice cream, her heart skipping for a brief moment as she recognized the source. It was Cedric Diggory, his smile as radiant as the sunlight dancing through the shop's awning.

“Cedric!” Harry replied, her own face lighting up with genuine surprise and delight. She set her ice cream down carefully, standing to greet him. Cedric looked as polished as ever, wearing a casual yet tidy outfit that only accentuated his easy charm. “I thought I might run into you here,” Cedric said, his tone full of warmth. “Getting ready for the new term, I take it?” His gaze shifted briefly to Ellie, who was watching him curiously with her half-eaten ice cream cone in hand.

Ellie finally spoke up, her voice small but excited. “Are you Harry’s friend?” she asked, her gaze darting between the two of them.
Cedric smiled warmly and crouched slightly to Ellie’s height. “I’d like to think so,” he said kindly. “And you must be Ellie. I hear you’re starting at Hogwarts this year. That’s very exciting.”Ellie nodded enthusiastically. “I even got golden sparks with my wand!” she beamed, holding up her wand proudly.

“Well, that’s a sign of great things to come,” Cedric said, his tone sincere. “You’re going to love Hogwarts.” Cedric said as he joined the group & ordered him a sundae.

As the group enjoyed their ice cream, Cho Chang approached their table, her hand gently clasped with a bright-eyed little girl about Ellie’s age. The young girl looked around shyly, her gaze flitting between Harry, Hermione, and the colorful surroundings of Fortescue’s. “Will I get to meet new friends?” she asked softly, her voice tinged with hope.

Cho smiled down at her sister warmly before her eyes landed on Harry and Hermione. Her steps slowed, and her expression lit up with recognition and surprise. “Wow, Harry, you look amazing!” she exclaimed sincerely. Her gaze shifted to Hermione for a moment. “She told me everything. I’m so sorry about Ron—he was always a bit of a jerk.”
Harry’s lips curled into a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Cho. That means a lot.”

ho nodded and gestured gently toward the little girl by her side, her smile filled with pride. “This is my little sister, Yuna,” she introduced, her voice tinged with affection. “She’s starting at Hogwarts this year. She just got her wand!”

Ellie stepped forward with a big, friendly smile, holding her wand tightly. “I’m Ellie,” she said proudly, her voice bright and full of energy. “I’m 5 years old, and I have Down syndrome.” Yuna’s face lit up, and she smiled back shyly but warmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Ellie,” she said softly, her grip on her own wand tightening as her confidence grew. 

As Ellie giggled at Kingsley’s playful theft of her ice cream, he leaned back with a grin. “So where to after we finish our ice cream?” he asked, his tone casual but full of mischief.
Snape raised an eyebrow, his lips curving ever so slightly in amusement. “Well, I need to pick up potion ingredients,” he began, his voice steady yet sharp. “Remus mentioned he has something to sort out at Gringotts. And, of course, Hermione will undoubtedly spend an inordinate amount of time at Flourish and Blotts,” he added dryly, a flicker of humor in his tone.

Remus chuckled softly, offering Snape a knowing smile. “At least Hermione’s list is constructive,” he teased lightly. “I wouldn’t mind spending some extra time in the bookshop myself.”

Dolly took the last bite of her butterbeer ice cream, dabbing her lips with a napkin as she spoke. “We’ll take the kids to Flourish and Blotts next,” she said, her tone thoughtful but firm. “We need to pick up Harry’s schoolbooks, anyway. And then we’ll stop by Wyeth’s Art Emporium for her art supplies.”

Harry perked up at the mention of art supplies, a spark of excitement flickering in her eyes. “I’ve been looking forward to that,” she said, her voice warm. “Wyeth’s always has the best magical brushes and enchanted paints.”

Ellie beamed, already imagining the wonders of both shops. “Do they have sparkly art things?” she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

Dolly laughed softly and nodded, her tone kind but amused. “Of course they do, Ellie. I’m sure we can find something special for you there, too.”

Kingsley leaned back in his chair, his smile warm. “Sounds like a solid plan. Let’s finish up here, and then we’ll head out.”

As Snape stepped into the cozy, aromatic space of Leaves & Beans, the scents of fresh coffee beans and delicate tea leaves greeted him. The shop was a peaceful retreat nestled amid the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. Snape’s sharp gaze fell on Sergey, the shopkeeper, who gave him a friendly nod.

“Hello, Sergey,” Snape began, his tone polite but firm. “I’m here to pick up my school-year supply of tea.”

Sergey smiled and immediately moved to the back of the shop to retrieve the carefully packaged order. Left to himself for a moment, Snape allowed his eyes to wander over the shop’s neatly organized shelves, stacked with jars of exotic blends and magical infusions.

It was then that his gaze landed on Bernisha Onai, a striking presence among the shelves. Her robes were simple yet elegant, and her demeanor carried an air of quiet wisdom. Snape straightened slightly and approached her with his usual reserved grace.

“Hello, Miss Onai,” he said, his voice smooth and formal as he inclined his head. “I’m Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts.”

Bernisha turned to face him, her expression shifting into one of mild curiosity. “Professor Snape,” she replied evenly, her tone respectful yet curious. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Snape studied her for a moment, intrigued by her composed demeanor. “I couldn’t help but notice your familiarity with potion ingredients,” he remarked, gesturing subtly to the selection of infused teas she was perusing. “Do you, by any chance, work in the field of magical brewcraft?”

Snape chuckled softly, his typically reserved demeanor giving way to a rare moment of warmth. “Not much, I’ll admit,” he said, his voice smooth as he gestured to the selection of teas. “But I do enjoy the perfect cup now and then. My husband, Remus, has a collection of both Muggle and magical coffee contraptions at home. And speaking of which—here comes my husband.”

Remus entered the shop with his usual calm, warm presence, making a direct path toward Snape. He offered a charming smile before leaning in to kiss Snape’s cheek. “I thought you had business at Gringotts,” Snape remarked, his tone gently teasing.

Remus grinned. “Everything’s sorted! Lucius joined me—it sped things up quite a bit,” he replied, then turned his attention to Bernisha. His face lit up as he addressed her. “Ah, I see you’ve already met Bernisha, Severus,” he said, his tone genuinely pleased.

Bernisha returned the warm energy, smiling as she adjusted the jar of tea in her hands. “It’s good to see you again, Counselor Lupin,” she said respectfully. “I’m really looking forward to seeing how you guide the students this year—it’s clear your passion for their well-being shines through.” Her smile deepened, and her tone turned playful. “Speaking of which, where’s this daughter you’ve been telling me so much about?”

Both Remus and Snape exchanged amused smiles, the fondness evident in their expressions. “Hermione happens to be at Flourish and Blotts,” Snape remarked, his tone laced with a rare bit of humor. “You’d likely have to pry her away. We were just about to head there ourselves—to ensure she hasn’t fallen into a book coma,” he added dryly, though the faintest hint of a smirk betrayed his teasing tone.

Bernisha chuckled softly, adjusting the jar of tea she was holding. “As it happens,” she said lightly, “I was just heading that way myself. Seems like Flourish and Blotts is the heart of Diagon Alley today.” Remus gave a warm laugh, resting a hand gently on Snape’s shoulder. “Then we should make our way together,” he said. “Between all of us, maybe we can persuade Hermione to come up for air.”

With that, the trio stepped out of Leaves & Beans, the scent of tea and coffee still lingering as they made their way into the lively streets, their next stop clear in mind.

Harry and Cho strolled slowly between the towering shelves of Flourish and Blotts, the faint rustling of pages and excited whispers from Ellie and Yuna creating a comforting background hum. The two younger girls were immersed in the children's section, their laughter echoing occasionally as they found books that sparked their imaginations. Hermione, unsurprisingly, was engrossed in the history section, her focus unwavering as she examined the spines of old, worn tomes.

Cho glanced at Harry thoughtfully, her tone soft and curious as they meandered past rows of books. “How do you feel now that you’re a girl?” she asked, her words gentle but direct. Harry paused, trailing her fingers lightly along the edge of a shelf. She looked at Cho, her expression contemplative yet calm. “It’s hard to put into words,” Harry began, her voice steady yet tinged with emotion. “I feel… more like myself. As if all the pieces of me are finally coming together. It’s not always easy, but it’s freeing. The support I’ve had, from my family, my friends—it’s made all the difference.”

Cho smiled warmly, her eyes filled with understanding. “That’s really wonderful, Harry,” she said sincerely. “You deserve to feel like the best version of yourself. And I have to say—you look so radiant, so confident.” Harry’s lips curved into a soft, appreciative smile. “Thanks, Cho. That means a lot.”

The two watched Cedric from across the shop, his easygoing smile as he chatted with the clerk betraying a quiet charm that seemed to draw everyone around him. Cho leaned slightly closer to Harry, her tone low but playful. “He likes you, y’know,” she said, her words laced with a knowing grin.

Harry’s face turned a soft shade of pink as she glanced at Cho. “What? Cedric?” she asked, trying to sound casual but failing as her voice wavered slightly.

Cho smirked and nodded toward him. “Oh, come on, Harry. It’s so obvious. He wouldn’t leave your side in the infirmary after the tournament,” she said gently, her tone shifting to something warmer. “And after those monsters hurt you... He was there the whole time. I think he cares about you a lot.”

Harry glanced back at Cedric, her heart skipping as she recalled those moments—the soft words of encouragement, the way he never left until he knew she was safe. “I… I never really thought about it like that,” she admitted, a shy smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “He’s… well, he’s really kind.” Cho grinned, nudging Harry lightly. “Kind and absolutely smitten,” she teased. “You should talk to him, Harry. I think it would mean a lot to both of you.”

Harry’s heart fluttered as Cedric waved, a charming grin spreading across his face. She managed a small, shy wave in return, her cheeks growing warmer. Cho smirked knowingly beside her but kept her teasing to herself for now.

The soft chime of the shop’s bell rang out, drawing Harry’s attention. Turning toward the door, she saw Snape, Remus, and Bernisha stepping inside. Snape’s presence was, as always, composed and commanding, while Remus offered his usual warm and calming demeanor. Bernisha, with her quiet elegance, fit seamlessly into the dynamic.

“Ah, there’s our book enthusiast,” Snape commented dryly as his eyes settled on Hermione in the history section. “I suppose we’ll need a crowbar to detach her from those shelves.” Remus chuckled lightly, patting Snape’s shoulder. “It’s good to see her so absorbed. A passion for learning is never a bad thing.”

Bernisha’s gaze wandered briefly over the shop, landing on the lively children’s section where Ellie and Yuna were happily exploring. “It’s heartwarming to see the little ones already so engaged in magic,” she said with a smile. “They remind us what all of this is about.”

Harry smiled softly at the sight of Ellie showing Yuna a brightly illustrated book about magical creatures, their laughter ringing through the shop. She turned back to Cedric, whose attention was now divided between Harry and a small stack of Quidditch books he seemed to be browsing.

Dolly and Kingsley approached the group, their presence warm and full of energy. Dolly’s face lit up as she spotted Bernisha. “Bernisha! It’s so good to see you again,” she said brightly. “I see you’ve finally met my brother Severus!”

Bernisha offered a kind smile, nodding toward Severus. “I have indeed,” she replied with a light chuckle. “And if it weren’t for Filch, Hagrid, and the house-elves, I’d probably still be stuck at the train station,” she joked, earning a warm laugh from the group.

Kingsley grinned as he balanced Dolly’s stack of books effortlessly. “Renovations are nearly finished, you know. Filch has been practically unstoppable since he got his hands on a wand again. He’s made it his personal mission to have everything ready before September.” Dolly chimed in, her voice carrying a hint of pride. “And don’t forget the construction team the Ministry brought in. The Goldenberg's are sparing no expense to ensure Hogwarts is not just up to standard but shining brighter than ever.”

Remus smiled warmly, his gaze softening. “It’s wonderful to hear how much care and effort is going into restoring the school. The students deserve nothing less than the best environment for learning.” Snape folded his arms, his expression thoughtful yet composed. “It’s a rare sight to see Argus Filch so enthusiastic,” he remarked dryly. “Though I must admit, his dedication is impressive.”

Bernisha nodded in agreement, her smile widening. “It’s inspiring to see so many hands working together to make it happen.

The group began wandering through Flourish and Blotts, the shop alive with a gentle hum of activity. Ellie and Yuna were busy flipping through colorful children’s books, their giggles echoing faintly. Hermione, as expected, was deeply engrossed in a particularly hefty tome in the history section, entirely unaware of the world around her.

Dolly, Kingsley, Snape, Remus, and Bernisha meandered through the aisles together, catching up as they browsed. “Renovations aside,” Bernisha said warmly, “it’s comforting to see the school coming together again. The energy feels… renewed.”

“Renewed, yes,” Remus agreed. “And I’m certain the students will feel the difference come September.”

As the group began to part ways in the lively streets of Diagon Alley, Cedric stepped closer to Harry, holding a small, carefully wrapped package in his hands. “Just in case I don’t see you before school starts,” he said with a playful wink, his smile warm and sincere. Harry’s cheeks flushed as she accepted the gift, her fingers brushing lightly against his.

“Thank you, Cedric,” she murmured softly, her voice touched with gratitude. The package felt weighty with meaning, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder what thoughtful surprise might lie inside. She glanced up at him, her heart fluttering as he gave her one last charming grin before turning away.

Meanwhile, Dolly gently took Ellie’s hand, the younger girl clutching her bag of books and treasures tightly. “I believe it’s time to head home,” Dolly said with a smile. “Uncle Jacob and Newt should be there by now—we don’t want to keep them waiting.”

Harry carefully tucked the last of her purchases into her school trunk, ensuring everything was secure and in place. “Better safe than sorry,” she muttered with a small smile, gently closing the lid with a sense of satisfaction. As she turned away, her eyes landed on the carefully wrapped present resting on her bed. Her smile deepened, curiosity tugging at her. She approached the bed and sat down, her fingers brushing against the wrapping before she decided to open it.

Peeling back the paper slowly, her heart skipped as the gift revealed itself—a beautifully bound book titled The Complete Works of Jane Austen. The elegant design of the cover and the weight of the pages felt significant, thoughtful. Harry held the book for a moment, her emotions a mix of gratitude and surprise. It was a timeless gift, one that spoke volumes about Cedric’s kindness and consideration. She smiled to herself, thinking of his warmth and how he always seemed to know just the right thing.

Dolly and Kingsley stood by the doorway, a small, carefully wrapped package cradled in Kingsley’s hands. Their expressions were warm, but a subtle melancholy lingered in their eyes. Dolly smiled gently as she spoke, her voice soft yet steady.

“Harry, your parents wanted you to have this when you turned fifteen,” she began, her tone filled with quiet emotion. “Sadly, they’re not here to give it to you themselves, but they made sure it would reach you.” She exchanged a look with Kingsley before continuing. “Ragnok assured us this would be delivered on your birthday.”

Kingsley stepped forward, extending the package to Harry with a kind smile. “Happy Birthday, Harry,” he said warmly.

Harry blinked, her throat tightening as she looked at the package. Her hands trembled slightly as she accepted it, the weight of the moment settling over her.

Harry carefully unwrapped the package, her fingers trembling slightly as she peeled away the delicate paper. Inside was a small, beautifully crafted box, its surface adorned with intricate designs that seemed to shimmer faintly in the light. Harry hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding, before gently lifting the lid.

Nestled inside was a stunning, silver locket engraved with a delicate Lily. Harry’s breath caught as she picked it up, the weight of it feeling both familiar and comforting. Her fingers brushed against a tiny latch, and, with a soft click, the locket opened to reveal two photographs.

On one side was an image of her parents, James and Lily, smiling warmly at the camera. Her father’s playful grin and her mother’s kind eyes seemed to radiate love and pride. On the other side was a picture of Harry as a baby, giggling happily in her mother’s arms.

Tears welled in Harry’s eyes, and she clutched the locket tightly against her chest. Dolly stepped forward, her expression tender as she knelt beside Harry. “Your parents wanted you to carry their love with you wherever you go,” Dolly said softly. “They would be so proud of the young woman you’ve become.”

Kingsley placed a steady hand on Harry’s shoulder, his voice filled with quiet reassurance. “You’re never alone, Harry. You carry their spirit and their strength with you.”
Harry nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you,” she said, her words carrying the depth of her gratitude.

Harry wrapped her arms around Dolly and Kingsley, holding them tightly as she wiped the lingering tears from her cheeks. Their presence was grounding, their love palpable in the embrace. Stepping back, Dolly gave Harry a playful smile and said, “Come on, let’s go blow out your candles before Dobby gets to them.” Her tone was light and teasing, her words eliciting a small laugh from Harry.

Filch and Hagrid carefully led Bernisha down the winding, dimly lit cave, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls. The air was cool and heavy with an ancient energy that seemed to hum around them. Flickering torches lined the pathway, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls.

As they reached the heart of the cave, Filch turned to Bernisha, his face beaming with excitement. “This isn’t any ordinary cave,” he said, his voice carrying a reverent tone. “This is where the Founders are buried. It’s time for your blessing.”

Hagrid nodded solemnly, his towering presence adding weight to the moment. “A rare honor, this is,” he said gruffly but warmly. “You’ve earned it, Bernisha.”
Bernisha glanced around, her eyes taking in the grand chamber that unfolded before her. Four ornate tombs rested at the center, each surrounded by intricate carvings and glowing runes. The atmosphere was both awe-inspiring and humbling, and she felt the magnitude of the moment settle heavily within her.

Filch smiled brightly as he led Bernisha to a circular, rune-inscribed spot at the center of the chamber. “Just stand there. Good!” he said, stepping back with an air of excitement. Then, with a commanding voice, he declared, “Founders! I bestow to you a new headmaster to continue your legacy.”

A faint shimmer filled the air before two ghostly figures materialized before them. It was Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw, their translucent forms radiating an otherworldly glow. Godric’s grin was as bold as his reputation, while Rowena’s expression carried grace and warmth.

“Argus! She’s incredible!” Rowena exclaimed, her tone filled with admiration as she regarded Bernisha. “I see she’s a champion for those without a voice—an advocate like none we’ve seen since the very beginning.”

“Some we haven’t had since year one, indeed,” Godric added, his voice rich and booming, a twinkle of pride in his eyes.Hagrid, ever curious, looked around the chamber, his brow furrowing. “Where are Salazar and Helga?” he asked, his voice echoing slightly.

Rowena giggled, her melodic laugh filling the air, while Godric smirked knowingly. “Oh, they’re around…” he said with a mischievous glint.

As if on cue, the sound of approaching footsteps filled the chamber. A deep, resonant voice echoed ahead of its owner. “As I live—and lived,” it said, carrying an air of both humor and confidence. Emerging from the shadows was none other than Salazar Slytherin, his imposing figure softened by a wry smile.

“Hey, Saul and Hedy! How’s the living world treating you?” Godric quipped, his grin widening.

“That’s Salazar to you, Godric,” Salazar replied with a joking huff, his sharp wit evident. He moved to stand beside Helga Hufflepuff, who followed with her usual quiet strength, her warm demeanor a stark contrast to the grandeur of their surroundings.

Bernisha stood frozen in shock, her gaze darting between the ghosts. Recognition dawned on her as she realized the couple she had worked closely with in recent weeks—the generous Goldenberg's, who had tirelessly helped rebuild Hogwarts—were none other than Salazar and Helga in disguise.

She stared at them, her amazement apparent. “You… you’ve been here all this time,” she said softly, her voice filled with awe.

Salazar smirked, his sharp gaze playful yet proud. “Indeed. We decided to step in when Hogwarts needed us most. After all, who better to oversee its revival than its original architects?”

Helga offered a warm smile, her presence calming. “We’ve been watching, helping where we can, and ensuring the school’s spirit remains intact. You’ve done extraordinary work, Bernisha. It’s clear Hogwarts is in very capable hands.” Bernisha felt her heart swell at their words, a mix of honor and disbelief washing over her. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Rowena stepped forward, her ethereal form glowing softly. “You’ve already said enough through your actions. Your dedication, your belief in giving a voice to those who have none—it’s everything we hoped for in a headmaster.”

Godric clapped his ghostly hands together, his laughter echoing through the chamber. “Well said, Rowena! Bernisha, the legacy is now yours to carry forward. And knowing you, it’s in good hands.”

Filch beamed with pride as he stood beside Hagrid, the chamber buzzing with a mix of reverence and excitement. “Hogwarts thrives because of people like you,” Filch said warmly.

Helga placed a comforting arm around Bernisha’s shoulders, her warmth and pride palpable in the gesture. “As of today, Bernisha Tiwa Onai, you are part of Hogwarts history,” Helga declared, her voice brimming with reverence and joy. “You have the blessings of the Founders—something that hasn’t happened in centuries.”

Bernisha’s breath caught as Helga’s words sank in. She could feel the weight of this moment, not as a burden but as an honor, a recognition of all she had worked for.
Helga and Salazar exchanged knowing glances before each took out their wands. With a flourish, they raised them high, and a shimmering, golden light began to swirl in the air around Bernisha. The light seemed to hum with magic, wrapping her in its embrace like a protective shield.

Salazar’s usually sharp demeanor softened as he spoke. “This is not just a blessing, but a bond,” he said firmly. “A connection to the heart of Hogwarts and its original purpose—to be a haven of learning, growth, and unity.” The magic danced around Bernisha, filling the chamber with an ethereal glow. Filch and Hagrid watched with wide eyes, their expressions a mix of awe and pride. Rowena and Godric stood nearby, their smiles radiating approval.

Bernisha wiped a tear from her eye, her voice soft but resolute as she addressed the two Founders. “Helga, Salazar,” she began, her gaze steady and filled with hope. “Would you consider staying on? As guardians of Hogwarts.”

She paused, drawing in a deep breath before continuing. “I know Dolores and Kingsley would greatly appreciate your guidance and support. And, more importantly, it would allow you to keep watch over the school—your legacy—as it continues to grow and flourish.”

Helga’s warm smile deepened, her arm still resting lightly around Bernisha’s shoulders. “It would be an honor,” she replied gently, her tone unwavering. “Hogwarts will always be home, and it’s clear that its future is brighter with leaders like you.” Salazar smirked, his sharp gaze softening. “How could we possibly refuse such a request?” he said with quiet pride. “Hogwarts has been, and always will be, our greatest achievement. We’ll stand guard as its protectors—and yours.

The chamber seemed to hum with an unseen energy, as though the very walls of the cave acknowledged the pact being formed. Filch beamed with pride, his usually stern demeanor softened. “This is a new chapter for Hogwarts,” he said quietly, his voice filled with reverence.

Hagrid gave a hearty nod, his booming voice echoing through the cavern. “Couldn’t ‘ave picked better guardians, Bernisha. The Founders, back where they belong. Hogwarts’ll be safer than ever.” Rowena and Godric stepped forward, their ghostly forms shimmering in the dim light. “It’s settled, then,” Rowena said, her voice carrying a melodic authority. “Hogwarts remains in good hands—and watchful eyes.

Bernisha’s smile widened with determination as she glanced around at the group. “Well then! We have a school to get ready,” she declared, her voice ringing with purpose.

Chapter Text

Harry had woken an hour earlier than planned, unable to quiet the excitement and nervous energy thrumming through her veins. She sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before turning to face the mirror.

Its surface was covered with handwritten notes—small affirmations, reminders of encouragement, words from those who loved her. Each one was a testament to her journey, to the strength she had found in herself over the past months. As her gaze skimmed over them, she smiled softly, the warmth of their meaning settling in her chest.

She exhaled, barely above a whisper. “I’m so nervous.” The words felt fragile, yet honest.

Since July, since living with the Shacklebolt's, she had blossomed into the person she was always meant to be. No longer hiding, no longer unsure. Her long brown wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing the face she had finally come to recognize as her own. And today—today was Hogwarts day. The beginning of another chapter.

Harry turned just in time to see Ellie bounding into the room, her tiny feet padding against the floor with unchecked excitement. Her pajamas were slightly wrinkled from sleep, and she clutched her stuffed penguin tightly in one arm while Dobby the puppy trotted faithfully beside her. “It’s Hogwarts Day!” Ellie sang, bouncing on the spot, her eyes shining.

Harry laughed, shaking her head fondly as she finished securing her trunk. “I gathered that,” she teased.

Ellie stopped for a moment, her excitement bubbling over into a wide grin. “Mommy said I get to go on the train!” she practically squealed, jumping around in circles as Dobby barked once in agreement, his little tail wagging madly.

Harry took Ellie’s small hand in hers, giving it a playful squeeze. “Alright, let’s go,” she said with a teasing smile. “First order of business—making sure your trunk passes my inspection. And then, of course, we need to figure out what you’re wearing today.”

Ellie gasped dramatically, clutching her stuffed penguin tighter. “You mean my Hogwarts Day Outfit?!” she exclaimed as if it were the most important decision in the world.

Harry chuckled, leading her toward the trunk. “Exactly. Can’t have you showing up in mismatched socks and last night’s pajamas.”

Ellie giggled, already bubbling with excitement as she rushed ahead. Dobby the puppy trotted right beside her, as if he, too, understood the importance of the day’s preparations.

Ellie hurried over to her trunk, flipping it open with excitement as Harry stood beside her. “See? Everything’s packed!” she said proudly, gesturing to her neatly folded clothes, books, and assorted Hogwarts essentials. Harry gave an approving nod, scanning the contents. “Not bad,” she teased. “You might actually be more organized than I was at your age.” Ellie beamed, bouncing on her heels. “I told you! I have to be prepared for Hogwarts Day!”

Dobby the puppy sniffed curiously at the edge of the trunk before letting out a playful bark, as if giving his own stamp of approval. Harry smirked. “Alright, you pass inspection. Now, let’s figure out your outfit. You can’t show up to King’s Cross looking like you just rolled out of bed.” Ellie giggled, grabbing her stuffed penguin and spinning toward her wardrobe. “Let’s make it perfect!” she declared.

With Ellie dressed and her trunk packed, she and Harry made their way downstairs, the scent of sizzling bacon guiding them to the kitchen. Dobrik stood by the stove, expertly placing crispy strips onto a platter. “Just in time,” he said with a satisfied nod, glancing over his shoulder. “Eat up before we head out. You’ll need the energy.” 

The breakfast table was a feast of comforting favorites—crispy bacon sizzling fresh off the pan, fluffy scrambled eggs seasoned to perfection, and, at the center of it all, Dobrik’s famous Belgian waffles. They were golden and crisp, topped with an array of fresh fruits and generous dollops of whipped cream, making the entire spread feel like the perfect send-off meal.

Ellie gasped dramatically as she climbed into her seat. “Dobrik! You outdid yourself this time!” she declared, eyeing the waffles with pure admiration.

Dobrik chuckled, setting down the last plate. “Nothing but the best for Hogwarts Day.”

Harry smiled as she took her seat, the warmth of the moment settling around them. The scent of sweet syrup and rich breakfast fare mingled in the air, adding to the excitement bubbling within her.Dolly poured pumpkin juice into glasses, glancing at the clock. “Enjoy it while you can,” she said playfully. “Once we leave, things are going to move fast.”

Ellie nodded enthusiastically, grabbing her fork. “Then we better eat fast!”

With laughter and eager chatter, they dug into their meal, the anticipation of the journey ahead filling the room.

Ellie’s excitement was boundless as they stepped into King’s Cross Station, her voice bubbling with endless questions.
“Where do the trains sleep at night? Do they turn into pumpkins at midnight? How do Muggles not see the magic? What if I trip on the platform—does that mean I can’t go to Hogwarts?”

Harry chuckled, shaking her head fondly as she listened. Ellie barely paused for breath between each question, her wide eyes darting around in wonder.
All Harry could do was smile. This was magic—not just the kind that required wands, but the kind that made hearts lighter, that made journeys feel like beginnings.
And as they drew closer to Platform 9¾, that feeling only grew stronger.

As they approached the entrance to Platform 9¾, Harry held Ellie's hand tight. "You ready Ellie Jelly?" Harry said. Ellie nods. "Ready, Harry Berry!". The two followed by Dolores & Kingsley.

Harry grinned, giving Ellie’s hand a playful squeeze as they neared the enchanted barrier. The familiar hum of magic pulsed in the air, mingling with the bustling sounds of the station. “You ready, Ellie Jelly?” Harry asked, her voice light and teasing.

Ellie nodded eagerly, her excitement barely contained. “Ready, Harry Berry!” she replied, bouncing slightly on her feet.

Dolores and Kingsley walked a few paces behind, watching the exchange with amused smiles. “Well, go on then,” Kingsley urged. “Before Ellie bursts from excitement.”

Harry glanced down at Ellie, sharing a knowing look before they both took a deep breath. With steady steps, they rushed toward the barrier—hand in hand as Platform 9¾ awaited them on the other side.

Harry and Ellie emerged onto Platform 9¾, greeted by the familiar sight of gleaming scarlet steam and bustling students. The magic in the air was unmistakable—the kind that sparked excitement and nostalgia all at once.

Ellie’s grip tightened around Harry’s hand as she took everything in, her eyes wide with wonder. “It’s huge,” she whispered, craning her neck to see the towering Hogwarts Express.

Harry smiled at the awe in Ellie’s voice. “It’s even better inside,” she said playfully, nudging Ellie forward.

Dolores and Kingsley followed closely behind, ensuring their group stayed together amidst the chaos of trunks being loaded, owls hooting, and students calling out to friends.

Ellie turned to Harry, practically vibrating with excitement. “So… now we board the train?” she asked. Harry laughed. “That’s right. Let’s find our compartment.”

Harry led Ellie into one of the empty compartments, guiding her toward one of the cushioned seats. As she helped the little girl settle in, she glanced around, pleased with their early arrival.

“Now I know why Dolly and King wanted us to get here early,” Harry said with a smirk. “Better advantage for seats.”

Ellie giggled as she hugged her stuffed penguin close. “And more space for snacks!” she added enthusiastically, swinging her legs as she got comfortable.

Harry laughed, shaking her head. “Priorities, huh?”

Ellie giggled as she pulled out her coloring books, settling comfortably into the seat, completely engrossed in her artistic plans for the ride. Harry turned toward the window, scanning the crowd outside.

Her gaze landed on Draco, deep in conversation with Hermione and Goyle. A mischievous smile tugged at her lips as she leaned forward, sliding the window open.

“Hey guys! Get in here before someone else takes your seats!” she called out, her tone teasing.

Draco glanced up, raising an eyebrow before smirking. “Impatient, are we, Potter?” he quipped, but the amusement in his voice betrayed his usual drawl.

Hermione rolled her eyes fondly, nudging Draco toward the train. “She’s right. Let’s go before we end up squeezed next to first-years with pet snakes.”

Goyle, entirely unbothered, shrugged before following them toward the entrance.

Harry grinned as she pulled the window shut, watching them weave through the crowd. “Looks like we’re in for an interesting ride,” she murmured to Ellie, who was now diligently coloring in a bright blue hippogriff.

Harry leaned against the seat, watching as Cho and her younger sister settled into the opposite compartment. The moment Yuna spotted Ellie, her face lit up, and she darted toward her friend.“Hi Yuna!” Ellie chirped, waving excitedly.

Yuna beamed as she plopped down beside Ellie, hugging her stuffed penguin before turning to Harry. “So, who are we waiting for?” Cho asked, raising an eyebrow as Draco, Hermione, and Goyle entered Harry’s compartment.

Harry smirked, stretching out her legs. “Luna, plus a new student she’s been corresponding with. Blaise. Cedric said he’ll drop by—he’s sitting with the heads.” She leaned back, tapping her fingers against the armrest. “Fred and George, obviously. And if there’s any space left, probably a couple of strays.”

Cho laughed, shaking her head. “Sounds about right.”

Draco rolled his eyes as he slumped into a seat. “Potter’s making this sound like some grand reunion.”

Hermione nudged him. “Well, it is the start of the year. People do tend to come together.”

Draco’s expression softened as he lifted Ellie effortlessly. “How’s my little cousin? You nervous?” he asked, his voice warm.
Ellie nodded, clutching her stuffed penguin tighter. “A little,” she admitted. Draco gave her an encouraging squeeze. “You’ll do great,” he assured her. “You’re a Shacklebolt—you’ve got magic in your blood.”

Meanwhile, Goyle turned to Harry, shifting slightly in his seat. “I’m actually excited for school this year,” he admitted. “After all the nonsense from the past four years, I feel like we’ll actually get to learn.”

Harry nodded in agreement, sensing the sincerity in his voice. “Yeah, things will be different now.” Goyle hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Crabbe’s father sent him to Durmstrang. I think it’s for the best.” His tone was measured, but there was an underlying relief in his words. “Anyway, do you know anyone who’s gonna be in Year Five culinary?”

Harry’s eyes brightened. “I am! So is Neville! Uncle Tom’s teaching—he’s brilliant. We need two more people for our table. Why don’t you join us?”
Goyle blinked, clearly taken aback by the offer. “Really? You’d want me there?” Harry grinned. “Of course. You’re interested, right? That’s all that matters.”

Draco smirked, still holding Ellie. “See, Goyle? You might actually make something edible this year.” Goyle rolled his eyes, but there was an unmistakable hint of excitement in his expression. “Alright, I’m in.” Ellie giggled, swinging her legs playfully. “This is gonna be the best year ever.”

Luna floated into the compartment with her usual serene grace, Neville close behind, carrying a small satchel of plants he refused to leave behind. Blaise followed, carefully guiding a younger girl into the space, his expression softer than usual.

“This is Zlata,” Blaise said, his voice warm as he helped her settle into a seat. “She’s from Sarajevo. My parents have been caring for her since last year.”
Zlata glanced around shyly, taking in the lively energy of the group. Ellie, ever the welcoming spirit, beamed at her. “Hi Zlata! I’m Ellie! This is Yuna—and Dobby!” She gestured to the stuffed penguin and the puppy curled up at her feet.

Zlata’s lips twitched into a hesitant smile. “Hello,” she said quietly.

Luna’s eyes twinkled as she sat down beside her. “You’ll love the train ride, Zlata. It’s full of stories just waiting to happen.”
Harry observed the moment, feeling the warmth in the air. Something about this gathering—this mixture of old friends and new faces—felt right. Like the start of something meaningful.

Harry glanced at Blaise, her tone gentle yet curious. “Why is she living with you?” Blaise exhaled, his expression clouding slightly as he settled into his seat. “The Muggle war in Sarajevo,” he began, his voice measured. “Her family was killed.” He paused briefly before continuing, his gaze flickering toward Zlata.

“She was at a magical school in Medjugorje when it happened. They thought sending her there would keep her safe. But then the school decided to send the students home.” His jaw tightened slightly, the weight of the story pressing against his usually composed demeanor.

“She was staying with a distant cousin. One day, they went out to fetch water together…” His voice dipped lower, carrying the heaviness of the words yet to come. “A sniper hit them.” A silence settled over the compartment, the steady hum of the train the only thing filling the space.

Blaise wiped away a stray tear, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “Killed her cousin. Another shot struck Zlata—right in the spine.”
The compartment fell into quiet stillness, the weight of his words settling over them.

“A surgeon found her,” Blaise continued, exhaling slowly. “He’d once been a healer at St. Mungo’s before returning home to help during the war. He saved her, did everything he could. Then, he reached out to my father—sent a fax, asking if we could care for her.”

He glanced over at Zlata, who kept her hands wrapped around Ellie’s stuffed penguin, her grip tight but grounding. Blaise sighed, his voice softer now. “And here we are.”

Luna, who had remained thoughtful through the story, gently squeezed Zlata’s hand. “You’re here now, and you have us.”

Zlata met her gaze, something fragile yet strong flickering behind her eyes. She nodded—not with hesitation, but with understanding.

Harry, feeling the shift in the compartment, smiled at Blaise. “You did right by her.”

Blaise gave a small nod, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a bit. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I’d like to think so.”

The compartment door slid open, revealing a young boy with bright eyes and an eager expression. His Hogwarts robes, slightly oversized, gave him a charming, youthful appearance—proof that this was a brand-new adventure for him. “I’m Ryan,” he announced confidently, standing tall. “I’m 11, and I’m looking for Luna.”

Luna turned at the sound of his voice, her face lighting up with delight. “Ryan! You found us!” she said warmly, beckoning him inside. Ryan grinned, stepping forward with certainty. “I wasn’t sure which compartment was yours, but I figured you’d be in the best one.” Ellie giggled at his declaration, while Blaise smirked in approval.

“Good instincts,” Blaise remarked. Luna patted the seat beside her. “And now you’re officially part of the best compartment.”

Ellie’s face lit up with pure excitement as recognition dawned. “I know you!” she exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat. “You went to Rainbow Montessori! You were with the big kids!” Ryan’s grin stretched wide. “Yeah! That was me!” he said enthusiastically. “I was in the older group, but I remember seeing you. You were always running around with the little ones, right?”

Ellie giggled, nodding eagerly. “You always got the best stickers for your work! And you read so many books during storytime!”

Ryan puffed out his chest proudly. “I love storytime! And Luna says Hogwarts has even better stories, so I can’t wait!”

Luna smiled, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Ryan, you’re about to step into a world full of stories. Hogwarts is magic in more ways than one.”

Ellie nodded enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up with curiosity. “Luna, how do you know Ryan?” she asked.

Luna beamed, her usual dreamy expression infused with warmth. “He’s my little cousin!” she announced proudly. “He was worried that because he has Down syndrome, he wouldn’t get to go to Hogwarts.” Ryan shifted slightly, his hands resting in his lap as he listened. “I just thought maybe… maybe they’d say no. That I wasn’t supposed to be there,” he admitted softly.

Luna turned to him, her gaze full of quiet certainty. “But you are supposed to be here. Hogwarts belongs to everyone with magic in their heart.”

Ellie clapped her hands together excitedly. “You should’ve seen him when he got his acceptance letter!” Luna continued, her smile stretching wide. “He ran around the whole house yelling, ‘I’m a wizard! I’m a wizard!’ for hours!” Ryan chuckled, his cheeks flushing pink. “Well… it was exciting.”

Harry grinned. “You should be excited,” she said simply. “You belong here, Ryan. Hogwarts is lucky to have you.”

The compartment door slid open once more, revealing the unmistakable presence of the Weasley twins, their identical grins full of mischief. Percy stood beside them, looking ever the responsible older brother, and just in front of him stood a young African boy, no older than six, clutching the hem of Percy’s robes with wide, curious eyes.

“Care for four more?” Percy asked, his tone formal but tinged with warmth. The entire compartment nodded in approval, making room without hesitation.
Hermione tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “Percy, who’s this?” Percy placed a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder. “This is Amari,” he introduced.

Amari glanced around, taking in the new faces, his grip on Percy’s robe loosening slightly as he scanned the room.

The compartment fell into a brief silence, the moment stretching just long enough for uncertainty to settle. Then, Ellie spoke, her voice light and full of mischief.
“We don’t bite,” she declared confidently. “Except Dobby—because he’s teething.”

Laughter rippled through the group, breaking the quiet as Amari giggled, his nerves visibly easing. Ryan grinned and patted the open spot next to him. “Come sit with us!” he encouraged. Amari hesitated for only a second before sliding onto the seat beside Ryan, his small smile growing just a bit wider.

The kids spent the rest of their time chatting, playing games, and simply enjoying each other’s company. Laughter echoed through the compartment as stories were swapped, snacks shared, and excitement built with every mile the train traveled.Before they knew it, the sky had begun to shift into shades of deep blue, signaling that their arrival was near. It was time to help the younger students into their black robes.

“According to the letter, we only wear these robes for the first and last feast of the school year,” Harry remarked, adjusting the folds as she helped Ellie into hers.
Ellie glanced down at the sleek black fabric, spinning slightly in place as she admired it. “It makes everything feel extra magical,” she declared.

Across the compartment, Yuna struggled with her sleeves, huffing in frustration until Cho stepped in to assist. Ryan had thrown his robes on hurriedly, the collar slightly off-center, but Luna swiftly straightened it with a flick of her wand. Percy helped Amari into his robes, ensuring they fit just right, while Fred and George exaggeratedly fluffed their own, joking about “maximum Weasley charm.”

The energy in the compartment had shifted—not just excitement for the train ride, but the anticipation of stepping into Hogwarts, the adventure awaiting them beyond its towering gates. As the train began to slow, a thrilling buzz filled the air. The castle was waiting.

Harry carefully lifted Ellie, ensuring she didn’t get lost in the sea of students spilling onto the platform. The crisp evening air carried the unmistakable scent of the Black Lake, mingling with the excited chatter of first-years experiencing their first glimpse of Hogwarts. “New students! Over here!” Hagrid’s booming voice rang out, carrying across the platform with ease.

Harry turned, spotting the familiar, towering figure of Hagrid waving a massive hand in the air. Standing beside him was another equally impressive presence—a younger giant, broad-shouldered but with a kind expression, his eyes scanning the crowd with gentle curiosity.

Ellie gasped, her grip tightening around Harry’s robes. “He’s huge!” she whispered excitedly. “Who is he?”

Harry shrugged as they stepped forward, weaving through the small crowd of new students gathering near Hagrid. The half-giant’s familiar grin stretched wide as his eyes landed on Ellie. “This must be Ellie! Your Mummy and Daddy told me all about you,” Hagrid said warmly, his deep voice full of affection.

Ellie tilted her head back, peering up at the towering figure beside him—a younger man, equally massive but with an easygoing presence and a hint of kindness in his eyes.

“And who are you?” Ellie asked curiously.

The young giant chuckled, his slight Irish accent adding a lilting warmth to his words. “I’m Rory! Hagrid’s assistant!” he introduced proudly. “The Ministry reckoned Hagrid could use some help around the grounds. That, and they brought in a fair few elves to lend us a hand too!”

As the last group of first-years approached the towering figures of Hagrid and Rory, the energy of anticipation buzzed in the cool evening air.
Harry crouched slightly, brushing a hand over Ellie’s head with a reassuring smile. “I’ll see you soon! Have fun!” she said warmly.

Ellie grinned up at her, gripping the edges of her robes excitedly. “I will!” she promised, bouncing on her heels as she turned to join the other first-years near the boats.
Harry watched for a moment, making sure Ellie settled in, before straightening and heading toward the group of older students.

Harry raised an eyebrow as Hermione handed her a broom, the familiar weight settling in her grip.
“The scenic route?” she echoed, amusement flickering in her voice. Hermione’s smile widened. “Mooch thought we’d appreciate something more exciting than carriages this time. Fresh air, sweeping views… plus, no risk of getting stuck behind slow-moving Thestrals.”

Draco let out a dramatic sigh, inspecting his own broom. “As long as this doesn’t turn into another dodge-the-Hogwarts-architecture challenge, I suppose I’m in.”

George elbowed Fred. “Think we can convince everyone to try synchronized loops?”

Fred grinned. “Only one way to find out.”

Harry smirked, swinging one leg over her broom as the others followed suit. “Well, if we’re going scenic, let’s make it memorable.”

The crisp night air wrapped around them as Harry and the others soared above the carriages, the soft glow of Hogwarts casting an enchanting reflection on the Black Lake below. The wind rushed past, carrying bursts of laughter as Fred and George attempted playful aerial tricks while Hermione muttered about "unnecessary theatrics."

Draco flew slightly ahead, sharp-eyed as he led the group toward the castle’s landing point. "Just try not to crash into anything, Potter," he teased.

Harry grinned, adjusting her grip on the broom. "No promises!"

Below, the lights of Hogsmeade twinkled in the distance, the grand silhouette of the castle standing tall, waiting to welcome them home.

The younger students—Ellie, Yuna, Zlata, Ryan, and Amari—were completely caught up in the excitement of the boat ride, their laughter carrying across the water as they took in the breathtaking sight of Hogwarts glowing in the distance.

Ellie leaned over the edge, watching the rippling reflection of the castle in the Black Lake. “It looks even bigger than I imagined!” she exclaimed, gripping the sides of the boat.

Yuna pointed toward the towering turrets. “We’re going to live there!” she said excitedly, bouncing slightly in her seat.

Ryan, ever eager, waved toward another boat carrying first-years. “Bet I can make friends before we even dock!” he said, grinning as he called out, “Hi! I’m Ryan!”

Zlata, quieter but equally fascinated, ran her fingers lightly along the water’s surface, watching how the moonlight danced in the ripples.

Amari clutched his robes tightly, eyes wide with wonder. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he murmured.

Ellie tilted her head back, gazing up at the vast expanse of the night sky, her eyes widening in wonder. Among the shimmering stars and the glow of the moon, she spotted movement—figures soaring effortlessly through the air. Her breath hitched in excitement as she recognized them. “Harry!” she squeaked, gripping the edge of the boat, pointing upward.

Yuna followed her gaze, gasping. “They’re flying!”

Ryan let out an impressed whistle. “I knew they’d do something cool.”

Zlata’s gaze lingered, awe settling in her expression. “They look so free,” she murmured.

Amari, still clutching his robes, stared with pure fascination. “Do you think we’ll fly like that one day?”

Ellie beamed. “I know we will.”

Hagrid’s eyes twinkled as he gazed up at the students soaring overhead, their laughter and playful dives cutting through the night sky. He let out a deep, rumbling chuckle, lifting his massive hand in a wave.

“Oh, this is gonna be a good year,” he murmured to himself, his grin widening.

Rory, standing beside him, followed his gaze with amusement. “Aye, looks like they’re already startin’ it off with a bit of flair,” he said, crossing his arms.

The boats continued gliding across the water, the younger students still watching in awe as their older counterparts danced through the air, silhouetted against the glowing backdrop of Hogwarts.

Bernisha adjusted the folds of her robes with practiced care, ensuring everything sat just right. As she straightened, the door to her office swung open, revealing Helga and Salazar.

The sight of them brought a familiar warmth to the space. Salazar carried a large, worn book, its leather cover etched with intricate patterns of age and significance. Bernisha’s eyes flickered with curiosity as she smiled at their approach.

“Before we returned to Hogwarts, we paid a visit to our vault in Gringotts,” Salazar began, his voice calm yet heavy with purpose. “In that vault, there was only one item—this book.” Helga rested a reassuring hand on Salazar’s arm before turning to Bernisha, her expression gentle. “This book is a manifesto for good,” she explained.

Salazar stepped forward, carefully placing the weighty tome into Bernisha’s hands. “I’d like you to read the final page for me,” he said, his gaze steady. “We’ve got plenty of time.” Bernisha ran her fingers over the ancient binding, inhaling softly as she prepared to uncover the words waiting within.

Bernisha carefully flipped to the final page of the worn manifesto, the parchment delicate beneath her fingertips. The handwriting—elegant yet firm—stood out against the faded ink, carrying the weight of centuries.

She read the words in quiet reverence before looking up at Helga and Salazar, a thoughtful expression settling on her face. “This… this is a promise,” she murmured.
Helga nodded, her smile steady but full of meaning. “It was written as one. A vow to safeguard what we built—to ensure that Hogwarts remains a place where all those with magic belong.”

Salazar, often more reserved, studied Bernisha’s reaction closely. “That final page holds the foundation of everything. The magic within the castle isn’t just in the walls or the enchantments—it’s in the ideals we instilled.”

Bernisha ran a hand over the words once more, feeling the depth of their history beneath her palm. “And now,” she said quietly, “it’s up to us to make sure the promise is kept.”

Bernisha closed the book with a sense of reverence, her fingers lingering on the worn cover. The weight of the words she had just read settled in her chest—a legacy entrusted to them, a responsibility stretching beyond time itself.

Helga folded her hands in front of her, watching Bernisha closely. “So,” she said gently, “what do you think?”

Bernisha exhaled slowly. “I think this is more than history. It’s a blueprint—a guide for Hogwarts moving forward.”

Salazar crossed his arms, his gaze sharp yet contemplative. “Then the question remains: how do we ensure its wisdom is upheld? Words only hold power if they are acted upon.”

Bernisha looked between them, a flicker of determination in her expression. “Then we begin,” she said simply. “We take this knowledge and use it.”

Helga nodded. “For the students. For the future.”

Bernisha’s smile lingered as Salazar and Helga faded, their forms shifting seamlessly into Hedy and Saul. The magic of time and memory swirled in the room like an unseen current—past and present folding into one.

Saul adjusted his grip on the ancient book, giving Bernisha a knowing nod. “The students are arriving. We must be going,” he said, stepping toward the door.
Hedy straightened her robes, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “There’s much to do,” she added, pushing open the door and gesturing for Bernisha to follow.

Bernisha exhaled, casting one last glance at the open book on her desk before stepping forward. The words written inside echoed in her mind—a legacy, a promise, a call to action.

Filch stood at the edge of the docks, watching as the boats carrying the new students glided toward shore. The lanterns cast flickering reflections on the water, illuminating the eager faces of the first-years as they took in the sight of Hogwarts for the very first time.

Beside him, Mairead, his assistant and a former Gringotts goblin, clasped her hands together with delight. “Ah, so many new faces, Mr. Filch,” she beamed, her sharp eyes dancing with warmth.

Filch let out a slow exhale, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Mairead, this is the first year I think I’ll actually enjoy working with children,” he admitted, his voice carrying an unusual softness. He shook his head as if shaking off years of bitterness. “I wasted so many years because of that wretched womp, Dumbledore—always keeping me at arm’s length, treating me like some inconvenience. But now, things are different.” He glanced toward the castle, standing tall against the night sky. “Not to mention the added responsibilities I’ve been given.”

Mairead reached over, patting his hand with a knowing smile. “You’ll do amazing,” she assured him.

Filch glanced at Mairead, then down at the wand in his hand—a symbol of the new chapter unfolding before him. A slow grin spread across his face, one that hadn’t surfaced in years.“You know what? I will!” he declared, his voice filled with newfound confidence.

Mairead beamed at him, clearly pleased, but didn’t say anything—just let him have the moment.

As the students approached, their eager faces lit by the soft glow of lanterns, Filch straightened his posture, ready to greet them not as a grumbling caretaker, but as someone truly meant to guide them.

For the first time in his long years at Hogwarts, he was looking forward to the year ahead.

As the students gathered near the entrance, the grand doors of Hogwarts stood open before them, glowing with the warmth of candlelight and anticipation.

Filch and Mairead took their places near the threshold, overseeing the new arrivals with careful eyes—not with the usual disinterest, but with a newfound sense of purpose.

Filch straightened his posture, his voice carrying a newfound enthusiasm as he addressed the incoming students.
“Good evening! My name is Argus Filch, and I’m delighted to be your school’s Administrator. I make sure everything is in tip-top shape!” he announced, his tone carrying an unmistakable sense of pride.

Beside him, Mairead gave the students a warm smile.

“This is Miss Mairead—my assistant,” Filch continued, gesturing toward her. “Now, follow us as we lead you to the Great Hall for your Sorting. And while we walk, I hope you don’t mind if I share a few tidbits about the renovations we’ve made…”

There was a murmur of interest among the first-years as they started moving toward the castle, some exchanging curious glances.

Filch smirked slightly. “For instance, certain staircases—ones that used to be particularly tricky—have been re-enchanted. Less unpredictable shifting, more reliable paths. And don’t get me started on the improvements to the trophy room!”

Mairead chuckled. “Oh, he’s got a list of changes, and if you’re lucky, you might hear all about them.”

The students followed eagerly, their excitement blending with the grandeur of the castle’s looming entrance.

Tuomas Turunen, the architect overseeing Hogwarts’ renovations, stood in the grand hall, gesturing toward the long tables that stretched across the room. The enchanted ceiling above flickered with the glow of floating candles, casting warm light over the polished wood.

“The tables,” Tuomas began, his voice carrying the practiced confidence of someone well-versed in structural enhancements, “will remain long for the First and Final feasts of the year. But for the remainder of the term, they’ll transform into smaller, round tables—giving the space a more intimate, family-style feel.”

The professors exchanged thoughtful glances, some nodding in approval.

Professor Sprout grinned. “That should make meals feel more welcoming, especially for students who might struggle to find a place in the usual setup.”

Flitwick adjusted his spectacles, peering at the table arrangement. “And I assume the enchantments will ensure seamless transitions?”

Tuomas nodded. “Precisely. At the end of each designated feast, the magic woven into the tables will reshape them automatically—no heavy lifting required.”

McGonagall pressed her lips together in a thoughtful hum. “It’s certainly a change from tradition, but one I suspect will foster better connections among students.”

Tuomas smiled, pleased with the reception. “That’s exactly the goal.”

Bernisha, Saul, and Hedy stepped into the Great Hall, their gazes sweeping across the transformed space. The shimmering enchanted ceiling reflected the deep hues of the evening sky, casting a warm glow over the elegantly arranged tables—no longer rigid rows but smaller, rounder formations designed to foster connection.

The three shared a quiet smile, taking in the significance of the changes.

Bernisha exhaled, absorbing the hum of magic that seemed to pulse through the very foundations of the hall. The air carried an energy—an anticipation for the moment just beyond those grand doors.

“In five minutes,” she murmured, a spark of excitement in her voice, “this hall will be alive.”

Saul nodded, brushing a hand along the edge of one of the tables. “And when those doors open, this place will feel different. More welcoming. More… right.”

Hedy folded her arms, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “Exactly as it should be.”

The three watched as the returning students poured into the Great Hall, their voices rising in excitement as they took in the subtle yet meaningful changes to the space. The flickering candlelight illuminated eager faces, and the hum of chatter filled the air, bringing the castle back to life.

Hedy glanced at her watch, a knowing smile crossing her lips. “Ah! I think that’s our cue to take our seats,” she remarked.
Bernisha gave a nod, taking a final appreciative look at the hall before making her way toward the staff table.

After the short tour, Filch and Mairead gathered the new students just outside the grand doors leading to the Great Hall. The air buzzed with anticipation as eager first-years adjusted their robes, whispered nervously among themselves, and stole glances at the towering entrance before them.

Filch, for once, wasn’t rushing them along with his usual impatience. Instead, he took a moment, leaning slightly forward to peek inside. The warm glow of candlelight flickered over the enchanted ceiling, illuminating the newly arranged tables and the sea of returning students already settled into their seats. A smile pulled at his lips—Hogwarts felt right.

Mairead caught the expression and smirked. “Something worth smiling about, Mr. Filch?” she teased, nudging him playfully.

Filch straightened up with a huff but didn’t bother hiding his amusement. “It’s shaping up to be a proper year,” he admitted, then turned back to the students.

Filch cleared his throat, standing tall as he addressed the gathered students, his voice carrying an air of authority—though, for once, it wasn’t weighed down by grumbling.

“Alright,” he began, his tone welcoming. “Students—both younger and older, but new all the same! In just a moment, you’ll be stepping into this hall, and what happens next will mark the first steps of your journey at Hogwarts.”

A brief pause settled over the group, anticipation thick in the air.

Filch’s lips curled into , knowing smirk. “And if that wasn’t exciting enough, you’ll be the first to experience a new sorting custom this year. A change. A fresh tradition.” His gaze flickered over their eager faces. “Isn’t that something?”

Ellie swallowed hard, nerves and excitement tangling within her chest. After a moment’s hesitation, she lifted her hand.

Mairead spotted her first, offering an encouraging nod. “Go on, dear.” Ellie took a small step forward, gathering her courage. “Um… what’s different about the Sorting this year?”

Filch’s smirk deepened. “Ah, that is for you to find out.”

Bernisha stood in quiet awe, taking in the transformed Great Hall as the chatter of returning students filled the space. The warm glow of enchanted candlelight reflected off the newly arranged tables, and the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation.

Beside her, Minerva McGonagall stood with a composed presence, her eyes scanning the room. She leaned slightly toward Bernisha, her voice low but certain. “Filch should be leading our newcomers here in a minute,” she murmured.

With that, Minerva strode forward, ascending the podium with her usual grace. She lifted a hand, and the students instinctively quieted, their eyes turning toward her in expectation.

“In just a few moments,” Minerva began, her voice carrying across the hall, “your fellow students will be joining us—some arriving from distant countries, some taking their very first steps into the magical world, and, for the first time in Hogwarts history, a younger generation.”

A ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd, but she continued smoothly. “When they enter this hall, I expect you to welcome them in a way they’ll never forget—one that reassures them that Hogwarts is home.”

She shifted her gaze toward a particular set of students near the Gryffindor table. “Fred and George,” she said, narrowing her eyes with a knowing smirk. “I’d suggest you keep the fireworks in your pockets tonight—we have students with sensory sensitivities joining us, and their experience matters just as much as anyone else’s.”

Fred grinned but gave a dramatic salute, while George winked. “Understood, Professor. We’ll make sure the welcome is explosive… in spirit, of course.”

Minerva gave them a pointed look before letting a small, approving smile tug at her lips.

With a graceful flick of her wand, Minerva opened the grand doors, and the hall erupted into applause. The students seated at the tables stood, clapping and cheering as the new arrivals stepped forward, their eyes wide with wonder.

Filch and Mairead led the procession, their demeanor softened by the energy in the room. The younger students hesitated for only a moment before taking their first steps inside, absorbing the grandeur of the enchanted ceiling and the flickering candlelight above.

Ellie’s gaze darted around the room, searching the crowd—until a familiar voice rang out over the cheers. “Ellie!” She turned just in time to see Harry waving from across the hall, her face lit with excitement. Relief and joy bubbled in Ellie’s chest as she grinned, stepping forward with newfound confidence.

Once at the podium, Filch and Mairead stood proudly alongside McGonagall and Bernisha, the weight of the moment settling over them. The Great Hall buzzed with energy, students old and new feeling the significance of the occasion.

Filch straightened, his voice clear and unwavering. “Headmistress Onai, I present to you the first students of a new era. I believe this is the largest group we’ve had since the very beginning of Hogwarts.” His smile was wide, genuine—an expression rarely seen on his face.

The students erupted into another round of cheers, their excitement filling the towering space.

Onai gave a gracious nod. “Thank you, Argus and Mairead. I see we have many new faces to teach, and I look forward to guiding each and every one of them.”

Argus and Mairead stepped down from the podium, their roles in welcoming the new students fulfilled. As they took their seats, Minerva McGonagall once again assumed command, her presence commanding quiet attention.

She surveyed the gathered students, her voice steady and resolute. “As Mr. Filch has said, this is a new era for Hogwarts,” she began. “With new students joining our ranks, we also welcome new professors, new staff, new classes—but, most importantly, a new Headmistress.”

She allowed the weight of her words to settle over the hall, the murmurs of anticipation rippling through the crowd.

Minerva’s gaze flickered toward Bernisha Onai, a small but proud smile tugging at her lips. “Everyone, I want you to give Headmistress Bernisha Onai a grand Hogwarts welcome.”

A beat of silence lingered—and then, the Great Hall erupted in applause. Cheers rang out as students clapped enthusiastically, their excitement filling the towering space.

Bernisha smiled, touched by the reception, as she took a deep breath and prepared to address the hall herself.

Minerva’s voice carried through the hall with measured authority, ensuring every student absorbed the significance of the introduction.

“Miss Onai is the great-great-granddaughter of Mudiwa Onai, whom some of you may recognize as one of Hogwarts’ most renowned Divination professors.” She allowed the murmurs of recognition to settle before continuing.

“Her mother, Tiwa Onai, played a pivotal role in ending the segregation of students in Muggle schools during the 1960s—a legacy of change that shaped education beyond the wizarding world.”

Minerva turned toward Bernisha with a hint of admiration in her gaze. “And Miss Onai herself is a steadfast advocate for both Maj and Non-Maj students, ensuring that magic remains accessible, understood, and welcoming to all who seek to learn it.”

A wave of applause swept through the hall, students clapping in recognition of the history that had led to this moment. Bernisha, standing tall, gave a composed but heartfelt smile, ready to address the school that would now call her Headmistress.

Minerva’s voice rang out with authority, commanding the attention of every student in the Great Hall. She stepped aside, offering Bernisha a reassuring pat on the shoulder before motioning toward her.

“Now, everyone, let’s give Headmistress Onai our full attention,” she announced, her sharp gaze sweeping over the crowd. “Bernisha, the hall is all yours.”

A hushed anticipation settled over the room as all eyes turned toward Bernisha. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over her poised stance, the weight of the moment pressing gently but firmly upon her.

She offered Minerva a nod of gratitude before stepping forward, her gaze sweeping across the gathered students and faculty. She could feel the energy in the hall—the promise of something new, something monumental.

Bernisha stepped forward, her posture poised, her presence commanding. The Great Hall, filled with eager faces, buzzed with anticipation.

She took a deep breath, allowing the energy of the room to settle around her before she finally spoke.

Bernisha stood firm at the podium, her expression composed but thoughtful as she looked across the hall. The atmosphere had shifted—what had begun as a warm welcome now carried a sense of realization, a reckoning of the past.

“Starting now, Hogwarts will enter an entirely new era,” she declared, her voice strong and unwavering. “An era that, frankly, should have begun decades ago. Yet, your former Headmaster seemed unable to grasp a fundamental truth—that magic and education must evolve.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

Bernisha inhaled, letting the weight of her words settle before continuing. “During my travels, I’ve visited schools across the world—institutions that are far beyond their years, places where magical study has adapted and grown.” She paused, scanning the student body. “Tell me—how many of you believe that you haven’t been taught the right things here at Hogwarts?”

Slowly, hands began to rise. Then, like an unspoken wave, every hand went up.

Bernisha blinked, clearly moved, turning toward the assembled faculty. Her voice softened slightly but remained firm. “Now, a question for you—our professors, our mentors, our guides,” she said. “How many of you feel that Dumbledore prevented you from teaching students the most essential lessons of life? That instead of guiding them toward knowledge, he had them chasing nonexistent dangers and fed division among the houses?”

One by one, the professors lifted their hands—some hesitant at first, others swift and certain. Even Snape, ever composed, raised his hand without hesitation.

A silence settled over the hall, not of discomfort, but of reflection. Change was coming, and Bernisha was here to usher it in.

Bernisha let the question linger, allowing its weight to settle over the hall. Every pair of eyes—students and professors alike—watched her with anticipation, the quiet stretching just long enough to emphasize the gravity of the moment.

She exhaled, folding her hands before her. “You want to know what he said?”

The Great Hall remained silent, the flickering candlelight casting shadows that seemed to hold their breath along with the crowd.

“He had tears in his eyes,” Bernisha continued, her voice steady, resonating with quiet intensity. “And he said this: ‘We were taught fear by a man we believed had saved our world. We allowed him to manipulate us. He was like a fog that never lifted. And once the fog finally cleared, we saw—too late—what had gone wrong.’”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the students, an uneasy shift among the faculty. Even those who had long accepted Dumbledore’s influence now found themselves reevaluating the truths they had once believed.

Bernisha let the response settle, then nodded. “You see, children—he was right.”

Her gaze swept the hall, finding the faces of students who had admitted their doubts, professors who had confessed their limitations under past leadership.

“The realization may be painful, but it is necessary. Because only when we acknowledge the failures of the past can we rebuild for the future.”

The tension in the room had shifted—not into fear, but into something stronger. Something ready for change.

Bernisha let the gravity of her words settle over the hall, giving space for the students and faculty to process the revelation. The murmurs had stilled, replaced by quiet reflection, as the truth of what had been held back for so long became undeniable.

She exhaled softly, then lifted her chin with renewed determination.

“But the past does not define us—it informs us,” she continued, her voice unwavering. “And we have the choice, now, to break free from outdated teachings, from limitations placed upon us, and from the fear that kept so many of you from truly learning.”

Her gaze traveled across the room, landing on the younger students who stood at the threshold of their magical education, then moving to the older students who had spent years within a system that had failed to equip them properly.

“We will change that,” Bernisha declared. “Tonight marks the beginning of a Hogwarts where knowledge is expansive, where magic is understood in all its forms, and where you will be given the tools to thrive—not just survive.”

A few students exchanged glances, some nodding slightly. Others sat straighter, absorbing the idea that Hogwarts was no longer just a school of tradition but one that would evolve.

Bernisha offered a small smile, a glimmer of anticipation in her expression.

“First things first,” she called out, scanning the seated students. “Everyone who is sitting—please stand.”

A few exchanged curious glances, but soon, students rose to their feet.

Bernisha let the moment settle before continuing. “Now, I want you to sit with someone outside your house.”

A ripple of surprise spread through the hall. Traditionally, house divisions dictated seating arrangements, reinforcing long-standing customs. But tonight—tonight was different.

She gestured encouragingly. “Find someone new. Introduce yourself. Share a meal with someone whose experiences might differ from your own.”

Hesitation gave way to movement. students exchanged nods of acknowledgment before forming new groups at the rearranged tables.

From the staff table, Minerva observed with quiet approval, while Snape arched an eyebrow in mild curiosity at the unfolding shift.

Bernisha took a small step back, watching as the house barriers softened—not erased, but reshaped into something better.

Hogwarts was evolving. And tonight, the students were taking their first step into that new era.

Bernisha’s voice rang clear across the Great Hall, carrying both certainty and hope.

“Starting tonight, Unity has returned to Hogwarts,” she announced, her words rippling through the gathered students like an undeniable force.

As the final murmurs of surprise settled, movement continued. Among them, Draco Malfoy made his way toward the Gryffindor table. His presence drew a few curious glances, but there was no hostility—only quiet acknowledgment of something new unfolding.

Harry, seated nearby, didn’t hesitate. With an easy motion, she patted Draco on the back as the Slytherin-turned-participant in Hogwarts’ newest tradition took his seat.

She smiled, letting her voice carry over the eager crowd. “And speaking of new traditions,” she announced, her tone both warm and commanding, “I think it’s time we begin our Sorting Ceremony.”

The students straightened with anticipation, the younger ones exchanging glances filled with excitement and nerves.

Minerva stepped forward, her presence commanding quiet attention as the Great Hall settled into expectant silence. She clasped her hands together, her gaze sweeping over the gathered students.

“As most of you know, the Sorting Hat has been with us since the very beginning of Hogwarts,” she began, her voice carrying the weight of history. “It has guided generations of witches and wizards to their rightful houses, offering wisdom and insight with each Sorting.”

She paused, allowing the significance of her words to settle before continuing.

“But with the changes taking place here at Hogwarts—the evolution of how we learn and grow—the Sorting Hat has made a momentous decision. After centuries of service, it has chosen to retire.”

A few gasps of surprise rippled through the crowd, students exchanging wide-eyed glances.

Minerva’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. “But don’t fret,” she assured them. “Because while the Sorting Hat has stepped down, tradition will not be abandoned—it will simply be transformed.”

Minerva allowed a brief moment for the students to absorb the announcement, watching their surprised expressions with quiet amusement.

She continued, her tone steady but filled with purpose. “Change is never easy, especially when it comes to traditions as old as Hogwarts itself. But as the Sorting Hat steps aside, we must remember why we sort in the first place—not just to divide, but to unite under shared values.”

She gestured toward the front of the hall, where a beautifully adorned pedestal stood—one that had remained covered until now.

“With that in mind,” Minerva declared, flicking her wand to remove the covering, “allow me to introduce our new Sorting method.”

Gasps echoed throughout the hall as students took in the sight—an ancient, enchanted mirror, its glass shimmering with hints of gold and blue, pulsing with soft magical energy.

“The Mirror of Reflection,” Minerva announced. “It does not decide where you belong—it allows you to see the truth within yourself. Through this, you will come to understand which house aligns with the heart of who you are.”

Excited whispers spread through the crowd, the idea of choosing rather than being assigned stirring an entirely new sense of anticipation.

Bernisha stepped forward, smiling at the gathered students. “This is not just about sorting,” she said. “It’s about understanding yourself, knowing your strengths, and embracing them fully.”

Minerva smiled as she unrolled her scroll, her voice carrying throughout the Great Hall.

“When I call your name, please step forward. We will proceed in alphabetical order,” she announced, her gaze sweeping over the eager first-years.
She glanced down at the parchment and called out the first name. “Raymond Aavid.”

A murmur of excitement rippled through the students as Raymond stepped forward, standing before the enchanted Mirror of Reflection. As he gazed into its shimmering surface, the magic within the mirror pulsed, revealing the essence of who he was—and where he truly belonged.

One by one, students followed, each stepping forward, their destinies unfolding before them. Some left the mirror with confident strides, others with awed expressions, but all with a newfound understanding of themselves. Then, it was Ellie’s turn.

Minerva’s voice was steady, calling out the next name. “Ellie Shacklebolt.”

Ellie stiffened slightly, nerves creeping in as she looked around for reassurance. Her eyes landed on Harry, who was already watching her, his expression warm and encouraging.

She smiled, exhaling softly before stepping forward, ready to face the mirror.

Ellie took a deep breath, steadying herself as she stepped forward toward the enchanted Mirror of Reflection. The Great Hall had quieted, all eyes on her as she approached, the golden shimmer of the mirror pulsing softly.

She stood before it, hesitating for just a moment before looking into its depths. The reflection staring back at her wasn’t just a simple image—it was her, but more than that. The magic within the mirror revealed aspects of herself she had never truly considered before, her strengths, her values, her ambitions.

The mirror’s glow shifted, its surface rippling with energy, guiding Ellie toward the house that aligned most with her essence.

The tension hung in the air as the students leaned forward, waiting for the revelation.

Then, slowly, the mirror settled—and her house was revealed.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” Cedric Diggory’s voice rang through the Great Hall, triumphant and clear.

The students roared in celebration, their cheers echoing off the enchanted ceiling. At the Hufflepuff table, hands clapped, excited voices welcomed their newest member with warmth and pride.

Ellie barely had time to process it before she turned, rushing straight toward Harry and wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get into Gryffindor,” she murmured, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Harry smiled, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. Her expression was nothing but reassurance. “It’s okay,” he said. “Think about it—our family represents all the houses. I’m Gryffindor, Daddy King is Ravenclaw, Mama Dolly is Slytherin…”

He tapped her shoulder lightly, grinning. “And you are Hufflepuff.”

Ellie blinked, taking in his words. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face.

Ellie turned to where Cedric stood, his warm smile radiating the easy confidence that defined Hufflepuff. Before she could react, he swooped her up effortlessly, lifting her like an old friend rather than a newcomer.

“Everyone, meet Ellie Shacklebolt!” Cedric announced with enthusiasm, his voice carrying over the cheers of the Hufflepuff table.

Laughter bubbled up from Ellie as he set her down, and immediately, a few students stepped forward to greet her.

Cedric winked at Harry, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

Harry immediately flushed, his cheeks turning a shade of pink that didn’t go unnoticed. Draco and Hermione exchanged amused glances before bursting into quiet giggles at his reaction.
Harry huffed, crossing his arms. “I’m just glad Ron isn’t here to ruin this year for us,” he muttered, though his tone carried more relief than bitterness.

Before anyone could respond, a familiar figure approached the table—Goyle, his presence more subdued than usual. “I heard,” he began, voice low yet deliberate, “that Ron and Ginny are in Azkaban’s Juvenile sector.” The table fell silent for a moment, the weight of the statement settling over them.

Draco raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable, while Hermione frowned, clearly deep in thought, processing the implications of what had just been said.

Before the weight of the conversation could linger too long, Neville let out an exaggerated sigh of relief.

“Thank Merlin for that,” he declared, prompting a round of laughter from those gathered around the table. The tension eased, replaced by the familiar warmth of shared humor.

At the front of the hall, Bernisha raised a hand, bringing the room back to quiet once more.

“I believe,” she said, her voice carrying across the tables, “that it is finally time we begin this feast.”

The Great Hall erupted in cheers as the golden platters filled with rich, delicious food, signaling not just the start of the meal—but the true beginning of a new Hogwarts era.

Bernisha allowed the anticipation to linger, watching as the students leaned forward, their curiosity palpable.

With a knowing smile, she continued, “It’s now a sanctuary—a place of study, exploration, and protection for the magical creatures that call it home.”

A wave of murmurs spread through the hall, excitement flickering across the faces of students who had once only known the forest as a place of mystery and danger.

“Hagrid, Rory, and the groundskeepers have worked tirelessly to map its paths, study its inhabitants, and ensure that, under proper supervision, it can be used as a place of learning rather than fear.”

Bernisha gestured toward Hagrid, who beamed with pride.

“For years, the Forbidden Forest has been spoken about with caution, its dangers emphasized more than its wonders. But now, you will have the opportunity to see it for what it truly is—a vital part of our school.”

The Great Hall erupted into cheers and applause as Hagrid and Rory rose to their feet, Hagrid gave a hearty wave to the students, his broad grin unmistakable, while Rory nodded appreciatively, clearly moved by the recognition of their work.

Bernisha surveyed the hall, the energy from the announcements still buzzing among the students. She allowed a brief moment for the excitement to settle before stepping forward once more, her voice carrying purpose.

“Secondly—your houses,” she began, her tone both steady and inviting. “It’s clear that your Heads of House and prefects do all they can to guide and support you. But even with their efforts, keeping a close eye on every single one of you is no small task.”

She paused, letting the words sink in before offering a small, knowing smile.

“And that is where our guardians come in.”

At her signal, eight adults stepped forward, moving toward the podium—among them, Dolly, Kingsley, and the Goldenbergs. Their presence commanded attention, their expressions a mixture of warmth and unwavering resolve.

A murmur of curiosity rippled through the Great Hall as students exchanged glances, wondering just what this new addition to their school life would mean.

Bernisha’s smile widened as she gestured toward the assembled guardians.

“Each couple will serve as what the Non-Maj call House Parents—dedicated figures who will provide guidance, support, and mentorship within your houses.”

A ripple of intrigued murmurs spread across the hall. This was entirely new to Hogwarts, something that had never been done before.

“They will work alongside your Heads of House and prefects,” Bernisha continued, “to ensure that every student—every single one of you—has someone to turn to, someone who will listen, and someone who will advocate for your well-being.”

Kingsley exchanged a glance with Dolly, both of them standing tall with quiet strength, while the Goldenberg's offered warm smiles to the students now watching them with curiosity.

“This is about more than just keeping order,” Bernisha said. “It’s about building community. You are not just students—you are a family. And in this new era of Hogwarts, families take care of each other.”

A wave of applause broke out across the Great Hall, excitement swelling as the students embraced the new system.

The grand doors swung open, drawing the attention of the gathered students as Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy hurriedly made their way toward the podium.

Lucius, slightly out of breath, offered a polite nod before addressing Bernisha. “Our apologies! Ragnok required our signatures on a very special project, but we are here now.” His tone was unusually light, carrying an air of excitement rather than formality.

Bernisha smiled warmly, acknowledging their arrival before addressing the students once more.

“The Malfoys, of course, will serve as the guardians of Slytherin,” she announced. A murmur of surprise swept through the hall, followed by nods of quiet approval from the Slytherin table.

She continued, gesturing toward each couple. “The Goldenberg's will oversee Hufflepuff, the Matsumoto's will guide Ravenclaw, and the Fallons will lead Gryffindor.”

A ripple of excitement spread as the students absorbed the new roles their guardians would play.

Bernisha’s expression softened as she turned toward the last pair, her voice carrying a touch more warmth.

“And for our younger students, residing in a special tower dedicated to nurturing their growth—the Shacklebolt's will be their guardians.”

Bernisha’s gaze swept across the Great Hall, taking in the excitement still buzzing from the evening’s announcements. Then, her eyes landed on the staff table—where, almost unnoticed, Sirius Black had quietly slipped into one of the chairs.

A flicker of surprise crossed her face before a soft blush tinted her cheeks.

She cleared her throat, offering a warm smile. “I see our new curator, Sirius Black, has joined us as well.”

The murmurs in the hall shifted, a mix of curiosity and intrigue rippling through the crowd. Sirius, ever the enigmatic presence, leaned back casually, giving a small nod in acknowledgment.

Bernisha held his gaze a moment longer, then turned back to the students. “His role will be pivotal in guiding our transition, and I have no doubt he’ll bring his own unique insights to Hogwarts.”

Sirius smirked slightly but said nothing, letting Bernisha continue.

Bernisha smiled as she took one final look across the Great Hall, the energy of the evening still lingering in the air.

“Well, I think it’s time we retire to our respective towers,” she announced, her voice warm yet commanding. “I believe there are some amazing changes waiting for you.”

Excited murmurs rippled through the crowd as students exchanged eager glances, anticipation rising for what lay ahead.

Bernisha gave a playful nod. “Get some rest—you’ll need it. Tomorrow, the new Hogwarts truly begins.”

With that, the students began making their way toward their dormitories, the air buzzing with excitement, curiosity, and the undeniable feeling that this year would be different.

As the last of the students and guardians exited the hall, their excited chatter fading down the corridors, Bernisha took a slow breath, letting the energy of the evening settle.

With measured steps, she approached the staff table, stopping just beside Sirius, who had remained seated, watching the scene unfold with quiet amusement.

Bernisha tilted her head slightly, a playful glint in her eyes. “Care for a cup of tea, Mr. Black?” she asked, her tone laced with familiarity and something unspoken.

Sirius grinned, leaning back in his chair as he considered her offer for only a moment. Then, with his usual easy charm, he met her gaze.

“I’d love a cup,” he said.

Harry’s eyes widened as she stepped into the Gryffindor common room, her breath catching at the sight before her.

“This is amazing,” she murmured, turning in place to take it all in. “Everything is so different!”

The space had been revitalized—sleek yet familiar, the grand fireplace still crackling warmly, the deep crimson tones accented with subtle modern touches. The furniture had been updated, a bit more refined, but still carried the unmistakable homey feel that had always defined Gryffindor Tower.

The portraits on the walls, once slightly worn, gleamed with fresh enchantments, their subjects seeming more animated than before. The large windows framed a breathtaking view of the Hogwarts grounds, their enchanted glass allowing just the right amount of golden candlelight to blend with the scenery outside.

Harry turned, following Hermione’s gaze to the far corner of the Gryffindor common room.

Nestled between two towering bookshelves, the new book nook was an inviting space—a plush reading alcove adorned with soft golden lighting, deep crimson cushions, and a charmed bookshelf that rearranged itself to keep favorite reads within easy reach.

Hermione beamed, pulling Harry toward it. “It looks so cozy,” she gushed, her fingers trailing along the edge of the nearby books. “Finally, a proper place to study without having to fight for space at the long tables.”

Harry chuckled, watching as Hermione excitedly examined the bookshelves. “You mean a place you can study while the rest of us try not to get dragged into your revision schedules?”

Hermione huffed but didn’t deny it, already settling herself into one of the armchairs. Harry shook her head, amused. The new Hogwarts truly had something for everyone.

Angelina Johnson approached with her usual bright energy, throwing her arms around Harry in a warm hug.

“Hey, Harry!” she greeted enthusiastically before pulling back. “Percy’s no longer prefect—he’s been moved to the Youngling’s Tower. I’m taking over.” She smirked, clearly amused by the change.

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, Percy mentioned it on the train ride.” Then, after a beat, she tilted her head. “I guess that means you’re not playing Quidditch either this year?”

Angelina’s expression shifted instantly, concern flickering in her eyes. “You’re not?” she asked, eyes widening.

Harry sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “No. I think I only played because I thought that’s what Dumbledork’s prophecy wanted me to do.”

Angelina’s brows knit together as she studied her closely. “But… you loved Quidditch, Harry.”

Harry hesitated, exhaling. “I did love it. But I’m starting to wonder—was it really my passion, or just another thing I felt I had to do because of everything that was expected of me?”

Hermione gave her a reassuring look, squeezing her arm gently. “You don’t have to follow anyone’s expectations anymore, Harry.”

Angelina smiled, her excitement practically radiating as she grabbed Harry’s hand.

“Granger’s right—we all have expectations to live up to,” she said, then grinned. “Come on, let me show you the new girls’ dorms. You’re gonna love them!”

She led Harry and Hermione down the hallway, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floor. When they reached the dormitory door, Angelina pushed it open with a flourish.

Harry’s breath hitched as she stepped inside—the space had been completely refreshed.

The familiar Gryffindor warmth was still present, but the dormitory had taken on a modern, luxurious feel. Plush velvet seating sat by a grand enchanted window that offered an ever-changing view of the Hogwarts grounds. The deep crimson drapes had been embroidered with gold charms that shimmered softly, casting a cozy glow over the space.

Each bed was framed with intricate Gryffindor insignias, personalized to reflect the occupant’s strengths—subtle enchantments that made the space feel like it truly belonged to them.

Hermione let out an impressed hum. “This is incredible.” Harry stepped further in, her fingers grazing the edge of her bedframe.

Angelina grinned, crossing her arms. “Told you you’d love it.”

Neville’s voice carried up the staircase, full of excitement. “Hey, girls! Come back down—the house-elves brought snacks!”

Laughter bubbled between them, Hermione shaking her head fondly while Angelina grinned.

Harry smirked, patting her stomach playfully. “Alright, I have room for one more thing,” she joked, before leading the way back down the stairs.

As they entered the common room, they were greeted by a spread of delicious treats—warm butterbeer, flaky pastries, and an assortment of sweets that seemed to glow under the candlelight.

Angelina clapped her hands together. “Hogwarts just keeps getting better.”

Hermione chuckled. “Let’s just hope this hospitality isn’t a bribe for something terrifying tomorrow.”

Harry shook her head, reaching for a pastry. Whatever lay ahead, she knew one thing—this year was already proving to be one for the books.

In the Younglings’ Tower, the atmosphere was serene, filled with the quiet hum of Percy’s voice as he read aloud to the younger students.

Ryan and Amari sat at his sides, their eyes fixed on the pages, fully absorbed in the story’s world. Across the room, Dolly and Kingsley sat comfortably, watching the scene unfold with quiet pride. Ellie nestled in Kingsley’s lap, her fingers absently tracing the hem of his robes as she listened intently.

Above them, the enchanted portraits of Maria Montessori, Rudolf Steiner, and other great educators observed the moment with knowing smiles, their painted expressions radiating approval. This was more than just a lesson—it was a reflection of Hogwarts’ newest chapter, one built on nurturing, guidance, and genuine care.

Percy closed the book with a satisfied smile, his voice carrying the final words like a gentle lullaby through the quiet space.

A sleepy hush fell over the younglings, some stretching their arms while others nestled deeper into their blankets, reluctant to leave the warmth of the story’s world.

Ryan and Amari exchanged drowsy grins, their eyelids growing heavy, while Ellie let out a small sigh, curling closer against Kingsley’s lap.

Dolly gave a soft chuckle as Percy clapped his hands lightly, his tone warm but firm. “Alright, younglings—time for bed. Tomorrow, we begin a new journey.”

Tired murmurs and contented yawns filled the room as the children made their way toward their beds, the soft glow of enchanted lanterns casting golden light over their sleepy faces.

Dasha, ever the attentive prefect, offered Yuna and another young girl a reassuring smile as she gently took their hands, leading them toward their rooms with quiet confidence.

The dim glow of enchanted lanterns cast a warm light along the hallway, illuminating their path as they made their way deeper into the Younglings’ Tower.

Behind them, Dolly and Kingsley followed, their movements calm and deliberate as Kingsley carried Ellie, her tiny arms wrapped around his neck, sleep settling heavily over her.

Kingsley gently tucked Ellie into her bed, adjusting the blankets around her tiny frame as she let out a sleepy sigh. At the foot of the bed, Dobby was already curled up, snoring softly, his small chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm.

Dolly stood back, her gaze sweeping over the cozy room, warmth filling her expression. “This will be her home for the next five years,” she murmured, the words carrying a quiet sense of certainty.

Kingsley placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his touch grounding. “And we’ll be with her every step of the way,” he assured, his voice steady and full of quiet promise.

With one last glance at the sleeping youngling, the two stepped out, leaving the room to its peaceful hush—where dreams, growth, and the beginning of something new awaited.

Chapter Text

Saul stood in the newly restored classroom, his keen gaze sweeping over what had once been the former Defense Against the Dark Arts room. The space had finally been freed of its lingering curses, and with the guidance of Godric and Rowena, it had been transformed—not as a place of war and defense, but as a classroom meant for all students.

Anoushka Deepak, the newly appointed professor, stood with quiet confidence at the center of the room. “I believe the subject of Empathy is one that every student at Hogwarts should learn,” she stated, her voice carrying a thoughtful certainty.

Beside her, Remus smiled as he, Anoushka, and Saul wandered through the space, taking in the details—the softened lighting, the welcoming arrangement of seats, and the warmth now woven into the very walls of the room.

Saul paused near the grand kaleidoscope-stained windows, trailing his fingers along the glass as sunlight poured through in vibrant patterns. His lips curled into a wistful smile.

“I remember this room,” he mused, voice tinged with nostalgia. “Once, unity and kindness were taught here. Then Dumblewad twisted it into a place of fear.”

A solemn hush settled over them for a beat, before Anoushka stepped forward, placing a hand on the newly polished lectern.

“Not anymore,” she said firmly, resolve gleaming in her eyes. “Here, we teach compassion. Understanding. Growth.”

Remus nodded, glancing at the golden-hued light spilling across the floor.

The three turned at the sound of a cheerful bark, only to see Ravi—the golden retriever—standing proudly by the door, his tail wagging with enthusiasm.

Saul chuckled. “I see Ravi agrees,” he joked, as the dog let out another happy bark, almost as if in direct response.

Anoushka grinned, reaching down to scratch behind Ravi’s ears. “Not to mention, Remus’s therapy degree will finally be put to good use.”

Remus laughed softly, watching as Ravi trotted forward, nudging his hand as if demanding confirmation.

“Well, I suppose Hogwarts has never had an official therapy dog before,” Remus mused, giving Ravi a few affectionate pats. “But there’s a first time for everything.”

Saul smirked. “Honestly, I think he’s already claimed the position.”

With one last delighted bark, Ravi padded toward the center of the room, settling onto the floor with a satisfied huff.

The Great Hall buzzed with morning chatter as Harry settled into her seat, her schedule in one hand and a crisp piece of bacon in the other.

Hermione slid into the seat beside her, scanning her own parchment. Her brows lifted slightly. “Empathy? This is new,” she mused, tapping the unfamiliar subject.

Harry chewed absently, glancing over at the same entry. “Me too. I wonder what that’s all about,” she said through a mouthful of bacon.

Before Hermione could respond, Cedric strode over, carrying Ellie in his arms, a bright grin on his face.

“This little bug got to witness her first Hufflepuff pow-wow!” he announced proudly, bouncing Ellie slightly in his hold. “Did you enjoy yourself, Ellie?”

Ellie giggled, resting her head against Cedric’s shoulder. “Lots of hugs,” she murmured sleepily, clearly satisfied by the experience.

Hermione chuckled. “Sounds about right for Hufflepuff.” Harry smirked, setting down her parchment.

Blaise and Draco made their way over, Draco smoothly maneuvering Zlata’s wheelchair as she held Amari comfortably on her lap.

Blaise smirked, his tone playful as he ruffled Amari’s hair. “Same here! This little one was worried about being with us snakes,” he teased, casting a glance at Amari.

Amari giggled softly, looking up at Blaise with bright eyes before sliding off Zlata’s lap and settling into the seat beside Ellie.

Neville, Luna, and Ryan made their way over, weaving through the bustling morning crowd of the Great Hall. Luna’s serene smile never wavered as she slid into a seat beside Hermione.

“The twins are on their way,” she announced in her usual dreamy tone. “Same with Cho and Yuna.”

Ryan plopped into the seat next to Amari, already reaching for a piece of toast as Neville sat beside him, glancing around at the growing group.

“Looks like this table’s filling up fast,” Neville mused, nudging Harry’s schedule slightly. “Anything interesting today?”

Harry smirked, flicking her parchment. “Well, for starters—Empathy. That’s new.”

Luna’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Oh, that sounds wonderful,” she murmured. “Maybe it will help students truly understand one another.”

Hermione nodded eagerly. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

Cedric chuckled, adjusting Ellie on his lap as she reached for a muffin. “Sounds like Hogwarts is heading for real change.”

Harry watched as Cedric carefully helped Ellie with her muffin, the warmth in his expression making her stomach do an unexpected flip. She felt heat rise to her cheeks and quickly shifted her focus, clearing her throat.

“So, uh—what class do we have first?” she asked, attempting to distract herself.

Hermione, ever composed, stirred her tea with practiced ease. “Potions with Dad,” she answered, taking a careful sip.

“Ancient Languages for me and Zlata,” Blaise added smoothly, adjusting his schedule.

Ryan beamed with excitement. “Magical Basics!” he announced with enthusiasm, earning a soft, approving pat on the shoulder from Luna.

Harry glanced down at her own parchment, still very aware of her lingering blush. “Neville, Goyle, and I have Gastronomy with Uncle Tom,” she said, trying to sound casual.

Cedric, completely unfazed, continued slicing Ellie’s muffin into bite-sized pieces. “I’ve got him in fourth period,” he added.

Hedy Goldenberg approached the table with a warm smile, her presence immediately drawing Ellie’s attention. “Ellie! Did you enjoy your time meeting your fellow Puffs?” she asked, her voice full of friendly enthusiasm.

Ellie carefully chewed the last bite of her muffin before answering, her eyes bright. “Yes, I did, Guardian Hedy!” she replied happily.

Hedy’s smile deepened as she leaned in slightly. “And that little idea of yours… I’ve already informed Headmistress Bernisha about it.”

Harry, curiosity piqued, glanced up from her schedule. “What idea?” she asked, tilting her head. Ellie grinned, the excitement sparking in her expression. 

Ellie’s grin widened as she looked up at Hedy, excitement shimmering in her eyes.

“Well,” she began, swinging her legs slightly, “I was thinking about what Headmistress Bernisha said about unity. And I thought, what can we do as students to truly unify Hogwarts?”

She paused for dramatic effect before beaming. “How about we have a room where everyone—all houses—can gather together?”

The idea hung in the air for a moment.

Draco, mid-sip, nearly dropped his goblet of juice. He set it down quickly, eyes wide. “You mean like… an all-house common room?”

Ellie nodded, practically bouncing in her seat, her excitement infectious.

Across the table, murmurs of intrigue spread. The concept was bold, new—something Hogwarts had never seen before.

Ellie’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she leaned forward, her voice brimming with energy.

“But then I thought—that’s only a small thing,” she said, her words rushing out as if they couldn’t be contained. “I want to think bigger. Bigger than Hogwarts.”

Everyone at the table instinctively leaned in, drawn to her enthusiasm, curiosity flickering in their eyes.

Amari, his tiny hands resting beside his untouched toast, looked up at her. “Bigger than Hogwarts…” he repeated in a quiet, thoughtful voice.

Ellie nodded eagerly, her whole body seeming to buzz with the weight of her idea. “Much, much bigger.”

A brief silence hung over the group—not out of hesitation, but out of awe. Whatever she was about to say, they could all feel it in the air. It wasn’t just an idea

Hedy gently patted Ellie on the head, her expression full of quiet encouragement.

“Go on, Ellie. Tell them,” she urged, her voice warm and steady.

Ellie took a deep breath, her excitement bubbling over as she straightened in her seat.

“A festival!” she announced, eyes shining. “It would really help unify Hogwarts. Imagine it!”

The table grew still for a brief moment as the weight of her idea settled in. Then, murmurs of intrigue rippled through the group, the possibilities unfolding in their minds.

Hermione leaned forward. “A school-wide event, something that brings everyone together—oh, Ellie, that’s brilliant!”

Cedric grinned. “A festival could be just what we need to celebrate all houses, not just keep them separate.”

Amari’s small voice chimed in. “Would there be food?” Draco smirked. “Obviously, Amari.”

Ellie giggled, beaming at the growing enthusiasm. Harry smiled at his little cousin. "That's an amazing idea!" 

Headmistress Bernisha stepped up to the podium, her commanding yet warm presence instantly drawing the students’ attention. The gentle hum of conversation settled as she addressed the hall.

“All right, students—ten more minutes to finish your breakfast, then off to your respective classes,” she announced, her voice carrying easily through the space.

A few murmurs rippled through the crowd as students checked their schedules.

“For those ages six to ten,” Bernisha continued, her sharp gaze landing on the younger students scattered throughout the hall, “please meet Rory and Hagrid at the doors for your Nature class.” At the mention of Hagrid, a few excited whispers broke out among the younger students.

As the Great Hall hummed with the last bites of breakfast and the rustling of schedules, students began gathering their belongings, preparing for the day's lessons.

Ellie wiped her hands on a napkin before hopping down from her seat, her excitement still shining through. “Come on, Amari! Yuna is already heading to Hagrid,” she called, grabbing a piece of bacon before turning to the table.

With a bright smile, she hugged each of them—quick but sincere—as if sealing the morning’s warmth before dashing off toward the doors.

Harry watched her go, shaking her head with an amused smile.

“She’s a keeper,” she murmured, finishing the last sip of her juice.

The table lingered in the comfortable energy Ellie left behind before the movement of students ushered them forward, sending them off toward their respective classes and into another day at Hogwarts.

Cedric glanced at Harry with a warm smile, adjusting the strap of his bag as the Great Hall buzzed with students preparing to leave. “Mind if I walk with you to class?” he asked casually. “I’ve got Magical Philosophy with Professor Volkov.”

Harry felt a flutter of nerves but quickly nodded, trying to keep her expression neutral. “Uh—yeah, sure,” she said, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

Cedric’s smile didn’t waver as he fell into step beside her, effortlessly easing into the movement of the crowd.

Harry kept her pace steady, trying not to let the quiet buzz of nerves take over as she walked alongside Cedric. The hallways of Hogwarts stretched ahead, filled with students chatting, rushing, or adjusting their robes as they headed toward their classes.

Cedric, ever calm, glanced over at her as they stepped into the flow of foot traffic.

“You seem a little tense,” he noted with an easy smile. “Big day ahead?”

Harry cleared her throat, forcing herself to focus on anything other than the way her heartbeat felt slightly faster than normal.

“Just… a lot to think about,” she admitted, keeping her voice casual. “New classes, new traditions, new—” she gestured vaguely “—changes.”

Cedric nodded thoughtfully. “It is a different Hogwarts now,” he agreed. “But honestly? I think it’s going to be better than ever.”

Harry exhaled, letting his words settle in. Maybe he was right.

Cedric’s gaze softened as he listened, his steps steady beside Harry’s.

“That’s… really incredible, Harry,” he said, his voice carrying quiet sincerity. “It takes so much strength to embrace who you truly are.”

Harry clutched her bag a little tighter, but there was no hesitation in her words. “It wasn’t easy. But every step I took—it was worth it. Because now? I feel like me.”

Cedric nodded, offering a small, warm smile. “And that is what matters most.”

The hum of students around them seemed to fade for a moment, leaving only the truth of Harry’s words hanging between them—strong, certain, real.

Harry barely had time to react before Cedric’s hand briefly closed around hers—a warm, steady touch that lingered just long enough to make her heartbeat stutter.

“Have a good first period,” he said with that easy smile, his thumb brushing lightly against her fingers before he let go. “See you at lunch.”

Harry nodded, maybe a little too quickly. “Yeah—yeah, see you then.”

As Cedric turned and walked toward his own class, Harry stood there for a beat, staring at her hand like it had just betrayed her. Keep it together, Potter.

With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and headed toward Gastronomy.

As Harry set her utensil bag down on the polished cooking station, she took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering warmth in her cheeks.

Before she could fully compose herself, Uncle Tom strolled over, a knowing smirk on his face.

“My Harry, you’re redder than a chili pepper,” he teased, though his tone carried a certain sincerity beneath the joke.

Harry groaned internally but didn’t have time to protest before Uncle Tom leaned in slightly, his voice quieter, full of familiarity.

“That’s how red I was when I met your Aunt Minnie,” he mused, eyes twinkling with amusement. “That Diggory boy is a keeper.”

Harry sputtered, clutching the edge of the station as if it could anchor her. “Uncle Tom,” she muttered, shooting him a half-hearted glare.

But Tom just chuckled, patting her shoulder before moving on—leaving Harry with far too much to think about.

Neville and Goyle approached the station, a third student trailing just behind them.

“This is Enya,” Goyle said, nodding toward her. “We noticed she didn’t have a partner.”

Harry glanced up, offering Enya a friendly smile.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to join us,” she said, shifting her utensil bag slightly to make room.

Enya smiled shyly before setting down her things. “Thanks,” she murmured, clearly grateful for the inclusion.

Neville clapped his hands together. “Right, let’s hope Uncle Tom doesn’t have us cooking anything too ambitious first period.”

Harry smirked. “Knowing him, it’ll be just ambitious enough.”

As the rest of the students settled in, the room filled with quiet anticipation—ready for whatever culinary adventure awaited them.

Uncle Tom clapped his hands together, drawing the students’ attention as the last few settled into their stations.

“All right, class! Today, we’re starting simple—but important,” he announced with his usual enthusiasm. “We’re making a basic restoration broth—something essential for magical healing and endurance.”

Neville perked up, clearly intrigued. “Restoration broth?”

Uncle Tom nodded. “Exactly. Used for exhaustion recovery, general wellness, and—if brewed correctly—can even enhance spell focus. You’ll be surprised how many wizards underestimate the power of proper nutrition.”

Harry smirked. Typical Uncle Tom, always finding a way to weave magic into food beyond just taste.

Enya adjusted her apron. “What ingredients are we using?”

Tom gestured toward the front of the class, where neatly arranged ingredients awaited. “A careful blend of enchanted herbs, bone broth essence, and a touch of phoenix flower extract—if you get the balance right.”

Goyle muttered, “This sounds more like potions than cooking.”

Tom grinned. “Cooking is a kind of potion-making, my dear boy. And today, you’ll see why.”

The students leaned in, ready for the lesson to begin.

Uncle Tom clapped his hands together once more, signaling the official start of the lesson.

“Right! First things first—mise en place,” he instructed, gesturing toward the neatly arranged ingredients at the front. “That means getting everything ready before we start cooking. A well-prepared wizard chef is always ahead of the game.”

Neville reached for the enchanted herb bundle, inspecting the delicate leaves. “These smell… stronger than regular herbs.”

Tom nodded approvingly. “Ah, that’s because they’ve been magically cultivated for enhanced restoration properties. A pinch can do wonders—but too much, and you’ll knock yourself out instead of refreshing your energy.”

Harry smirked, already setting her workstation up. “So, precision is key?”

“Precisely,” Tom said with a wink. “Now, let’s get chopping—gently! I don’t need anyone accidentally creating explosive broth today.”

As the students busied themselves with their preparations, the rhythmic sounds of chopping and measuring filled the room. Uncle Tom strode between stations, offering guidance and the occasional clever remark.

“Remember, balance is key!” he reminded them, pausing at Harry’s station as she carefully sliced through the enchanted herbs. “Too much phoenix flower essence and—poof!—you’ll be more energized than a Quidditch team on game day.”

Neville chuckled as he diced his ingredients. “I wouldn’t mind that during exams.”

Tom grinned. “Ah, but this isn’t about quick fixes. Good nourishment takes patience.”

Goyle glanced at Enya, who was stirring her broth carefully. “How long do we simmer this?”

Tom pointed toward the bubbling cauldron at the front. “Just enough time to let the magic infuse—but not so long that you end up with a potion instead of a meal.”

Harry smirked, stirring her own mixture thoughtfully. Uncle Tom always had a way of making cooking feel like more than just food—it was magic, connection, and intention, all blended together.

Ellie’s small hand nestled comfortably in Narcissa Malfoy’s elegant grasp as they walked along the winding path leading deeper into the Sanctuary Forest. The towering trees stretched endlessly above them, their ancient branches filtering soft beams of golden morning light onto the forest floor.

The younger students buzzed with excitement around them, pointing at the vibrant flora and the occasional flicker of magical wildlife darting between the trees. The air was thick with the scent of fresh moss and the whisper of enchanted leaves shifting in the gentle breeze.

Narcissa moved with composed grace, her sharp yet gentle gaze scanning the surroundings, always aware, always protective. Though refined in nature, her presence carried a quiet warmth, one that balanced perfectly with Ellie’s bubbling enthusiasm.

Ellie squeezed Narcissa’s hand, eyes wide with awe as she took in the enchanted beauty surrounding her. “This place feels alive,” she murmured.

Narcissa nodded, a hint of fondness in her expression. “It is alive,” she agreed softly. “Magic flourishes here—untamed, uninterrupted, free.”

Ellie beamed, already eager for what the Nature class had in store.

Hagrid halted the group with a wide grin, his booming voice filled with excitement as he strode forward.

“Professor Scamander, we’re just in time!” he called, his eyes twinkling as he took in the scene before them.

The students followed his gaze, and Ellie’s breath hitched as she caught sight of the gentle, luminescent creature nestled beside the man. A baby mooncalf, its large, expressive eyes blinking up at them in curiosity.

Professor Scamander—his posture relaxed yet attentive—continued to stroke the creature’s smooth, silvery hide. He glanced up at the approaching group with a warm smile.

“Ah, perfect timing,” he said, voice steady and kind. “I was just about to introduce them to their newest little friend.”

Ellie took a small step forward, wonder lighting up her face. She had seen drawings of mooncalves before, heard stories—but nothing compared to seeing one in person.

The air seemed to hum with quiet magic, the creature shifting slightly, its large eyes locking onto Ellie’s.

Amari, perched high on Rory’s shoulders, beamed with wide-eyed excitement as he pointed toward the silvery creature.

“That’s a mooncalf!” he exclaimed, his voice full of awe.

Rory chuckled, adjusting his grip to keep Amari steady. “Sure is, little one. A baby mooncalf, no less.”

Professor Scamander looked up from where he was gently stroking the creature’s velvety hide, offering a warm smile. “And a rare one at that. Mooncalves are notoriously shy, only venturing out under moonlight—but this little one seems quite comfortable here.”

Ellie took a careful step forward, her gaze locked on the delicate movements of the creature. “It’s so beautiful,” she murmured.

Scamander nodded. “Would you like to greet it?”

Ellie’s eyes widened with excitement as she slowly extended her hand. The baby mooncalf sniffed the air, hesitating for only a moment before stepping closer, its soft nose brushing against her fingers.

Amari gasped dramatically. “It likes her!”

Ellie giggled as the baby mooncalf nuzzled against her hand, its velvety nose tickling her fingers.

“She’s so fluffy!” Ellie squealed, practically bouncing on her toes with excitement.

Professor Scamander chuckled, watching the interaction with quiet amusement. “Mooncalves have incredibly soft fur—it helps them blend into the moonlight when they emerge at night.”

Amari, still perched on Rory’s shoulders, craned his neck forward. “Do they stay this fluffy forever?”

Scamander smiled. “For the most part, yes. Though as they grow, their fur shimmers even brighter.”

Ellie’s eyes widened at the thought, her fingers still lingering in the soft warmth of the mooncalf’s fur.

“I wish I could hug her forever,” she sighed dreamily.

The mooncalf let out a quiet, contented hum, pressing its head gently against her hand—as if it agreed.

Professor Scamander cleared his throat, a soft blush rising to his cheeks as he gently patted the baby mooncalf.

“This particular creature happens to be my husband Jacob’s favorite,” he admitted, a quiet fondness in his tone.

The children exchanged delighted looks before giggling, enchanted by the thought of the esteemed professor having such a sentimental connection to the mooncalves.

Newt, shaking off his momentary bashfulness, straightened and gestured toward the path ahead.

“Moving on, younglings!” he announced, a playful lilt in his voice as he took the lead once more.

The group followed Professor Scamander deeper into the Sanctuary Forest, the towering trees seeming to hum with quiet magic around them. Soft beams of light filtered through the dense foliage, casting shimmering patterns onto the ground as the morning air remained crisp and full of possibility.

Ellie stayed close to Narcissa, her mind still lingering on the baby mooncalf and the warmth of its soft fur. Amari, still perched atop Rory’s shoulders, leaned forward with curiosity, eyes darting between the twisting vines and rustling leaves as if expecting another magical creature to appear at any moment.

Newt led them toward a clearing where a gentle stream trickled over smooth stones. He gestured ahead.

“This, younglings, is where we’ll be observing some truly fascinating creatures today,” he said with a gleam in his eye.

Ellie and Amari exchanged excited glances, while Yuna stepped closer, her expression filled with quiet anticipation.

The forest felt alive with secrets waiting to be uncovered.

Newt stepped forward, his boots crunching softly against the forest floor as he gestured toward the stream ahead.

“Now,” he began, his voice carrying that quiet excitement that always preceded something extraordinary, “this particular clearing is home to some of the more elusive creatures in the magical world.”

Ellie’s eyes sparkled with anticipation, clutching Narcissa’s hand a little tighter. Amari leaned forward eagerly on Rory’s shoulders, ready for the next surprise.

Newt crouched near the water’s edge, carefully scanning the surface before pointing at something just beneath it.

“If you watch closely,” he said, a knowing smile playing at his lips, “you might catch a glimpse of—”

A soft ripple moved across the water, and then—

A sleek, shimmering creature darted through the shallows, its iridescent scales flashing like liquid silver.

Ellie gasped.

“A water sprite!”

The students crowded closer, enchanted by the delicate, playful movements of the sprite as it twisted and twirled beneath the surface.

Newt chuckled. “A rare sight during daylight, but this forest has always been special.”

The forest did feel special—alive in ways that were hard to describe.

Ellie barely contained her excitement as she watched the sprite move, completely entranced.

Newt gestured for the students to spread out around the stream, his eyes twinkling with quiet excitement.

“Now, watch carefully,” he instructed, crouching near the water’s edge. “Water sprites are playful, but they’re also incredibly perceptive. They won’t reveal themselves fully unless they feel safe.”

Ellie crouched beside him, her gaze locked onto the rippling water. The sprite flickered in and out of sight, its movements swift and graceful, like liquid silver dancing beneath the surface.

Amari leaned forward on Rory’s shoulders, practically vibrating with curiosity. “How do we make it feel safe?”

Newt smiled. “Patience. Calm energy. And sometimes…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch. “…a little incentive.”

With practiced ease, he sprinkled a fine, shimmering dust into the water. The effect was immediate—the sprite slowed its movements, curiosity taking over as it turned its gaze toward the group.

Ellie held her breath. Then, in a sudden, daring motion, the sprite breached the surface, twisting into the air in a stunning display before landing back in the water with a gentle splash. The students gasped, enchanted. Newt chuckled. “That, younglings, is the magic of trust.”

Draco and Hermione stepped into the entirely revamped Potions classroom, their eyes immediately scanning the transformed space. Blaise and Zlata followed closely behind, taking in the striking blend of old and new.

The familiar stone walls and softly glowing shelves filled with neatly labeled ingredients still held echoes of the original classroom, but the rest of the room had evolved into something entirely different.

Sleek workstations, reminiscent of a modern Muggle science lab, stood in precise rows, each equipped with state-of-the-art magical enhancements—self-stirring cauldrons, enchanted glassware that adjusted temperatures instantly, and rune-inscribed measuring tools designed for perfect precision.

Overhead, enchanted blueprints hovered in midair, displaying chemical and magical compositions in mesmerizing detail, shifting as students entered, responding to their presence.

Hermione’s lips curved into an intrigued smile. “I can’t believe Dad went all out,” she murmured, brushing her fingers across the polished surface that hummed faintly with residual magic.

Snape, standing just behind her, folded an arm around his daughter, a rare look of thoughtful reflection in his expression. “I can’t believe I let the planning committee convince me to renovate this room,” he admitted, surveying the transformed space with narrowed eyes. “It hasn’t been updated since the twenties.”

Draco smirked, slipping his hands into his pockets as he scanned the state-of-the-art setup. “Well, I’d say it was overdue, Professor.”

Zlata chuckled. “It’s like walking into the future—but still holding onto the past.”

Snape huffed, though there was no real bite to it. “Let’s hope the students can handle this future without blowing up half the classroom.”

Hermione laughed, exchanging a knowing glance with Blaise. Hogwarts had always embraced transformation, but this—this was something entirely new."

Snape smiled as he gestured for everyone to take their seats, his expression unusually bright.

“Find someone from a different house to sit with, and we’ll go through this year’s curriculum,” he announced, his voice carrying a rare enthusiasm that sent a ripple of curiosity through the students.

As chairs scraped against the polished floors and murmurs of rearrangement filled the room, a half-blood Ravenclaw student sidled up to Hermione and Draco, lowering their voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Did Snape start smoking pot? Because he’s unusually happy.”

Hermione let out an amused laugh, shaking her head. “No,” she said, glancing over at her father as he moved through the classroom, practically beaming as he fastened a pristine lab cloak around his shoulders.

“He finally gets to do potions his way,” she continued, watching him inspect the state-of-the-art equipment like a proud craftsman admiring his own handiwork.

Across the classroom, Snape flicked his wand, conjuring an elegant projection of potion formulas into the air. His eyes gleamed with unmistakable excitement.

Hermione smiled. This was going to be interesting.

Snape flicked his wand with practiced ease, and the shimmering projection of potion formulas in midair adjusted seamlessly, revealing the carefully structured curriculum for the year.

“As you can see,” he began, the enthusiasm still evident in his tone, “we’ll be exploring potion theory beyond what’s traditionally taught. With this upgraded classroom, I intend for us to examine brewing through a scientific and magical lens—a fusion of precision and creativity.”

Hermione leaned forward, intrigued. “Does that mean more experimental potion crafting?”

Snape’s lips twitched in a rare smirk. “It means calculated experimentation. Controlled risk-taking.”

Draco folded his arms, glancing at the rune-inscribed measuring tools. “Sounds like you’re making potions practical instead of just memorizing old recipes.”

Snape nodded. “Precisely. A potion is only as effective as its brewer’s understanding. You won’t simply follow instructions—you’ll know why each step matters.”

Blaise exchanged a glance with Zlata, both clearly intrigued.

“This is going to be very different from past years,” Zlata murmured.

Hermione smiled. “It’s going to be better.”

Snape clasped his hands behind his back, surveying the class with sharp eyes.

“Now, let’s begin.”

Luna’s wide eyes roamed the office, taking in the collection of artifacts, scattered papers, and aged tomes that crowded every available surface. The space carried an air of organized chaos—each object brimming with untold stories, each parchment whispering of discoveries yet to be unraveled.

Sirius, seated behind a desk that bore the marks of ink stains and hurried handwriting, leaned back with a familiar, easy grin.

“Ah, Luna—just in time,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth that made the cluttered room feel inviting. “Headmaster Bernisha insisted I meet with you.”

Luna’s gaze flickered toward him, curiosity dancing in her expression.

“I imagine she had a very good reason,” she mused, stepping closer to a peculiar-looking contraption that hummed softly on his desk.

Sirius chuckled, gesturing toward an empty chair. “Oh, she always does. Have a seat—let’s talk.”

Luna eased into the chair across from Sirius, her posture relaxed yet attentive, eyes still absorbing the oddities scattered throughout the office.

Sirius leaned forward, resting his elbows on the ink-stained desk. “Now, Luna,” he began, voice carrying a note of intrigue, “Headmaster Bernisha seems to think you have quite the insight on something important.”

Luna tilted her head slightly, as if turning the thought over in her mind. “Insight comes in many forms,” she murmured, then gestured toward the softly humming contraption on the desk. “For instance, this artifact—it’s responding to something.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, following her gaze. “It does have a habit of reacting to the unexpected,” he admitted, watching as the enchanted gears within the device shifted in a slow, deliberate pattern.

Luna’s fingers hovered near it, sensing the magic embedded in its core. “Sometimes, objects tell stories before people do,” she said thoughtfully.

Sirius grinned. “Then let’s listen. What’s this one trying to say?”

The room, buzzing with the quiet hum of mystery, seemed to hold its breath, waiting for Luna’s answer.

Luna observed the artifact closely, her fingers hovering just above its surface, feeling the subtle hum of magic pulsing through it.

“The energy shifts,” she murmured, watching as the enchanted gears clicked into a slower, more deliberate rhythm. “It’s responding to something new.”

Sirius leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “And what exactly do you think that something is?”

Luna tilted her head slightly, considering the patterns of movement. “A presence. A change in intent. Maybe even—” She paused, then looked up at him, eyes shimmering with quiet certainty. “Us.”

Sirius studied her for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. “You always have a way of seeing what others miss.”

Luna offered a small smile, but her gaze remained fixed on the artifact. “Magic is more than spells, Professor Black. It remembers. It responds.”

Luna kept her fingers hovering just above the artifact, watching as the enchanted gears slowed, their rhythm shifting as if adjusting to an unseen force.

Sirius leaned back slightly, observing her with a mix of amusement and intrigue. “So,” he mused, “if magic remembers, what exactly do you think it’s recalling now?”

Luna’s gaze remained steady. “Something old,” she murmured. “Something forgotten, but not lost.”

A flicker of interest sparked in Sirius’ expression. “Ah, now that is a distinction worth exploring.”

Luna traced the air above the artifact, sensing the faint energy embedded within it. “It’s waiting,” she said simply.

Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, then—we’d best not keep it waiting too long.”

Luna cradled the artifact in her hands, feeling the quiet hum of magic thrumming beneath her fingers. A soft smile played on her lips as she whispered, “It wants us to tell its story.”

Sirius, who had been observing the object with mild curiosity, suddenly stiffened, his expression shifting from intrigue to realization.

“I believe we shall,” he said, his voice carrying a new sense of determination. He straightened, clasping his hands together as he continued, “And as curator of Hogwarts, I will.”

His gaze flickered back to Luna, his eyes alight with purpose. “Now, onto the reason you’re here in my office. I want you to help me exhibit these artifacts.” He gestured around the room, where relics of varying origin lay scattered across tables and shelves. “As you’ve probably noticed, the school lacks proper exhibitions—real ones, anyway.”

Luna’s fingers traced the edges of the artifact as she listened.

Sirius exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Dumbledore installed so-called relics to entice the students… only for us to find out—”

“It was all lies,” Luna finished, her voice quiet but certain.

Sirius nodded, an expression of agreement settling over his face.

“Before I was wrongfully arrested, I was an archaeologist for Gringotts,” he admitted, his tone laced with the weight of past burdens.

Luna tilted her head slightly, waiting.

Sirius smirked faintly. “And let’s just say—I know exactly what Hogwarts has been hiding.”

Sirius stood, pacing slightly as he let the weight of his words settle over the room. The mention of his past—of what Hogwarts had hidden—created an undeniable shift in the air.

Luna remained quiet, watching him with that unwavering curiosity she always carried.

“So,” Sirius continued, gesturing toward the collection of artifacts lining the shelves, “I want to change that. I want truth in these halls, not myths meant to keep students entertained.”

He turned to her, his sharp eyes meeting hers. “That’s why I need you, Luna. You see things differently. You can help me bring these relics—their real stories—back into the light.”

Luna smiled gently, running her fingers over the artifact in her hands. “History deserves to be told honestly.”

Sirius nodded, a rare seriousness in his expression. “Exactly.”

He paused, tapping his fingers against the desk before smirking. “And considering some of the things Hogwarts has conveniently forgotten? I think we’re in for quite an adventure.”

The office, filled with lost truths and waiting discoveries, seemed to come alive with the promise of revelation.

Ryan stepped out of Magical Basics, a satisfied smile lingering on his face as he made his way down the corridor toward his next class. The familiar hum of students filled the halls, but his attention was quickly drawn to a conversation happening near the entrance to an adjoining passage.

Filch and Mairead stood alongside Sirius and Luna, deep in discussion. Sirius, his eyes alight with excitement, gestured animatedly as he spoke.

“That’s extraordinary!” he exclaimed. “Can you imagine what we could uncover in the Room of Requirement? So much that’s been discarded as junk—but in reality? Treasures just waiting to be found!”

Luna nodded, her serene expression carrying that quiet understanding she always possessed. “The Room remembers everything,” she mused. “Lost things don’t stay lost forever.”

Mairead glanced toward Filch, arching an eyebrow. “Sounds like an excavation waiting to happen.”

Filch smiled, a rare glint of excitement in his eyes. “I believe so. With Gringotts on our side, we can have a team here by next week.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking in his expression. “Can we really do that?”

Filch chuckled, patting Sirius on the shoulder like an old friend. “Siri, as Superintendent of Hogwarts, I’ll have Ragnok on a Floo call in ten minutes.” His grin widened, clearly relishing the moment.

Mairead practically jumped for joy, clapping her hands together in excitement. “This is going to be brilliant!”

Meanwhile, Luna turned, waving Ryan over with an inviting smile.

“Cousin, you up for an excavation?” she asked, the question carrying a knowing warmth.

Ryan’s eyes lit up at the prospect. His father—a skilled Muggle archaeologist—had always shared tricks of the trade, teaching him the patience and precision of uncovering lost history. Despite having Down syndrome, nothing had ever stopped him from diving into adventure.

He grinned. “Always.”

Sirius paced slightly, rubbing his chin. “I still can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” he murmured, a spark of adventure lighting his features. “After all these years, we might finally uncover what Hogwarts has really been hiding.”

Luna smiled serenely. “Some secrets want to be found,” she mused.

Mairead turned to Ryan, nudging him playfully. “I hope you’re ready. With your skills, I expect you to spot the first major discovery.”

Ryan grinned, the anticipation thrumming in his chest. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

Sirius clapped his hands together. “Alright! The second Filch gets confirmation from Ragnok, we start preparations. This could be the biggest magical excavation in Hogwarts history.”

Unbeknownst to the group, Hedy Goldenberg happened to be passing by, catching just enough of their conversation to spark a knowing smile. With a thoughtful smirk, she turned on her heel and made her way back to Hufflepuff Tower, her mind already racing with anticipation.

Inside the house's greenhouse, Saul stood amidst towering plants, carefully watering the highest leaves—ones that neither Professor Sprout nor the students could reach without assistance. The enchanted greenery flourished under his careful touch, the vines stretching toward him as if recognizing his presence.

Hedy entered swiftly, excitement radiating from her like a charged spell.

“Salazar, it’s happening,” she declared, eyes alight with urgency. “We must go to the cave and tell Gryff and Row.”

Saul, startled by the sudden energy, turned toward his wife, setting the watering can aside. His brow furrowed, but intrigue flickered behind his eyes.

“What is happening, my wife? Tell me!”

“Husband,” she said, voice steady but alive with excitement, “do you trust me?”

Saul met her gaze, searching for the deeper meaning behind her words. He had seen that look before—the kind that meant history was waiting just beyond the next step.

Without hesitation, he reached for her hand. “Always.”

Hedy’s smile widened, her grip firm as she led him toward the hidden path.

“The time has come,” she murmured. “Gryff and Row must know.”

Saul nodded, the energy of the moment crackling between them. Whatever secrets lay ahead—they would face them together.

As they stepped into the cave, the familiar, booming voice of Godric Gryffindor rang out, echoing off the ancient stone walls.

“I’d offer you two tea,” he quipped, amusement lacing his tone, “but, unfortunately, I’m dead.”

Rowena Ravenclaw sighed, though a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “Must you always begin conversations with that reminder?”

Hedy barely contained her excitement as she strode forward, her eyes alight with urgency.

“Godric, Rowena—it’s happening!” she declared, her voice breathless with anticipation. “What we’ve been waiting for since our deaths—the excavation is finally underway!”

Rowena straightened, interest flashing across her spectral features. “After all these years…?”

Godric grinned, clapping his ghostly hands together. “Well! It’s about time!”

Hedy clasped her hands together, excitement flickering in her expression as she stepped closer.

“I was also wondering…” she began, her tone laced with curiosity. “If you two were willing to return to the living.”

Silence stretched between them as Godric and Rowena exchanged stunned looks. Even Saul, ever steady, appeared momentarily speechless.

“Really?” Godric finally asked, leaning forward slightly. “Why?”

Rowena narrowed her eyes, not in suspicion but in contemplation. “Exactly,” she murmured. “You restored balance to the school. What comes next?”

Hedy smiled knowingly. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Hedy took a steadying breath, her gaze flickering between the gathered founders. “I’ve consulted Bernisha about this, and she agrees. With the true history of Hogwarts resurfacing, it’s clear that we’ll need all of us.” She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. “Which leads me to my second question for you, Godric.”

Godric leaned forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Go on.”

Hedy hesitated for just a moment, then exhaled. “Cornelius Fudge happened to be in the meeting,” she admitted, pacing slightly as she gathered her thoughts. “He’s considering stepping down as Minister.”

Rowena’s sharp gaze narrowed, her expression unreadable. “Helga, Hedy—whoever you are,” she said, folding her arms. “You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking… are you?”

Hedy met her stare, unwavering.

Godric grinned. “I am.”

Without hesitation, he stood, ghostly energy crackling around him with newfound purpose.

“I’ll do it!” he declared.

Hedy—Helga—laughed, shaking her head in amusement. “I didn’t even ask the question yet!”

Godric grinned, utterly unfazed. “I’d be honored to be Minister of Magic. I was born to lead—you all know that,” he declared, pride radiating from him as if it had never faded through the centuries.

Rowena let out a quiet sigh, though a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “Some things never change.”

Hedy, still beaming, gestured toward the exit. “Well then, I suggest we grab your ashes and head to Gringotts. Ragnok already has the ritual room ready for your resurrections.”

Without waiting for further discussion, she strode purposefully out of the cave, her excitement palpable.

Saul lingered only briefly before glancing at Godric and Rowena. “This better be worth it,” he muttered, before hurrying after Hedy.

That left just the two founders standing alone in the cavern, the flickering torchlight casting ethereal shadows across the stone walls.

Godric exhaled deeply before grinning at Rowena. “Well, it’s happening,” he mused, eyes shining with the weight of the moment. “We’re going to be alive again.”

Rowena took one last look around the cave—the place where their spirits had lingered for ages. Then, with a steady nod, she turned to follow the others.

“Let’s make it count.”

Ellie, Amari, and Yuna had just settled in for lunch when the older students arrived. Ellie lit up as Harry slid into the seat beside her, practically bouncing with excitement.

“We got to pet mooncalves and watersprites with Uncle Newt!” she announced, her voice ringing with enthusiasm.

Amari nodded eagerly, his expression just as animated. “Yeah! And we helped Rory and Hagrid collect mushrooms for the tarts they’re making for the veggie eaters.”

Yuna smiled, watching the excitement radiate from her friends. “The forest felt alive,” she mused.

Harry chuckled, tousling Ellie’s hair. “Sounds like a proper adventure,” he said

Luna’s gaze lingered on the staff table, watching as Hedy and Headmaster Bernisha exchanged an animated conversation, their expressions brimming with excitement.

“I feel something good is going to happen tonight,” Luna mused, her voice carrying that dreamlike certainty she always had.

Harry glanced at her, briefly pausing as he helped Ellie fill her plate. “What could you mean, Luna?” he asked, curiosity flickering in his tone.

Luna’s lips curved into a knowing smile.

Ellie, oblivious to the deeper implications, beamed as she reached for a pumpkin pasty. “Is it a surprise?”

Luna chuckled softly. “In a way, yes.”

Harry studied her for a moment before shaking his head with a light laugh. “You always know things before the rest of us.”

Luna simply hummed, turning back to the staff table. Whatever was unfolding—tonight would be important.

Hermione approached the table with a bright smile, excitement flickering in her eyes as she settled into her seat.

“Did Luna tell you?” she said, grabbing a generous serving of lasagna. “Sirius got the all clear for an excavation! Imagine ancient buildings resurfacing—entire lost structures coming to light again!”

Across the table, Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That’s incredible. Where exactly is the dig happening?”

Luna refocused on the conversation at the table, waving off the lingering question with a light shrug. “We haven’t figured that out yet!” she said, her tone airy but distracted.

Ryan tapped her on the shoulder, concern flickering in his expression. “Hey, dreamy, you need to eat,” he reminded her.

Luna, lost in thought, ignored him.

The others exchanged glances before turning their attention to her untouched plate.

Cho sighed as she slid into the seat next to Yuna. “Luna, you didn’t eat breakfast this morning,” she pointed out gently. “You need to have something.”

Yuna nudged her plate forward. “At least a few bites.”

Luna hesitated for a fraction of a second before abruptly pushing her chair back. “I forgot—I have to meet Sirius. See you at break.”

Before anyone could respond, she quickly dashed away, her movements brisk and deliberate.

Harry frowned, watching her go. “Didn’t she just meet with Sirius this morning?”

Cho turned her gaze toward the staff table, where Sirius sat comfortably, deep in conversation with Headmaster Bernisha over his plate of food.

“But… he’s here,” Cho murmured, her brows knitting together in confusion.

Yuna exchanged a glance with Ryan, concern deepening in her expression. “So… where is she really going?”

Hermione frowned, scanning the table thoughtfully. “You know what…” she murmured, realization dawning on her. “I didn’t see her eat on the train… or at the feast.”

Cho sighed, glancing toward the doorway where Luna had disappeared moments ago. “Something’s wrong,” she said quietly.

Ryan absently took a bite of his food, barely registering the taste as his thoughts remained elsewhere. His usual energy was gone, replaced by quiet concern.

Ellie watched him for a moment before leaning closer to Harry, her voice barely above a whisper. “He cares about her, doesn’t he?”

Harry nodded slightly, keeping her gaze on Ryan. “Yeah,” he murmured. “More than he lets on.”

Ellie’s brows furrowed as she glanced back at Ryan. “I don’t like seeing him like this.”

Harry offered a small smile, though his own worry lingered. “We’ll check on Luna soon,” she reassured her. “And make sure he doesn’t carry it all alone.”

Hermione finished the last bite of her meal with haste, pushing her plate aside as she swiftly stood from the table. Without a word, she slipped out of the Great Hall, her gaze locked on Luna’s retreating figure.

At the staff table, Snape paused mid-sip, his sharp eyes narrowing as he watched Hermione depart. Beside him, Remus had also noticed.

“Remy, darling,” Snape murmured in a low tone, tilting his head slightly. “Did you see what I just saw?”

Remus nodded, his expression thoughtful.

Without further discussion, the two quietly stood, moving toward the hall’s exit with purpose, their presence unnoticed amid the lively chatter of lunch.

Snape and Remus approached the dimly lit classroom, pausing just outside as soft voices filtered through the doorway.

“Nobody knows…” Luna’s voice was barely above a whisper, laden with quiet grief.

Inside, Hermione stepped closer, her brow furrowed with concern. “I’m sorry, Luna,” she murmured. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Luna’s breath hitched, her composure fracturing as tears welled up in her eyes. “Dad died this summer,” she choked out. “I’ve been staying with Ryan and his family. I guess… him dying made me stop eating altogether.”

Her voice trembled, raw and exposed.

Snape and Remus exchanged a brief glance from their place near the door, understanding passing silently between them.

Hermione reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luna’s arm. “You don’t have to go through this alone,” she said gently.

Luna wiped at her tears, but they kept falling.

Luna hesitated, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her robes as she blinked away fresh tears. “I’m just… scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if—what if they think I’m weak?”

Hermione softened, holding her closer. “Needing help doesn’t make you weak, Luna,” she murmured. “It makes you human.”

Luna swallowed hard, her walls slowly crumbling in the warmth of Hermione’s embrace.

“I’m here,” Hermione continued gently. “You don’t have to do this alone. Do you want me to go with you to see Madam Pomfrey?”

Luna wiped at her cheeks, nodding slowly—uncertain but willing to take that first step.

Hermione smiled. “Alright, then. Let’s go together.”

Hermione slowed her steps as she caught sight of Snape and Remus standing just outside the room, their expressions unreadable.

“Daddy… Papa?” she murmured, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. “Am I in trouble?”

Remus exchanged a glance with Snape before stepping forward, his tone gentle. “No, love. But we are worried.”

Snape folded his arms, his sharp gaze scanning Hermione and Luna carefully. “You left the Great Hall rather suddenly.”

Luna shifted slightly, wiping at her face as if trying to regain composure. Hermione squared her shoulders, a quiet protectiveness settling over her.

“I was helping Luna,” she admitted. “She—she needed someone.”

Snape’s expression softened just a fraction, though his voice remained firm. “That much is clear.”

Remus nodded, his warmth unwavering. “Would you let us walk with you both to see Madam Pomfrey?”

Luna hesitated for a beat before giving the smallest nod.

Hermione exhaled in relief, then turned to Luna with a reassuring smile. “See? You don’t have to do this alone.”

Harry’s fingers worked steadily, looping the yarn as she crocheted a pink scarf, the soft clicks of the hook filling the quiet of the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione entered, her expression weary but resolved as she sank onto the couch beside him.

“Luna has anorexia,” she said, her voice measured, as if still processing the weight of the diagnosis. “Madam Pomfrey did a full diagnostic. She’s putting her on nutrition potions and an eating plan—just until her weight stabilizes.”

Harry paused mid-stitch, absorbing the news.

Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. “Papa Remy wants her to start therapy with him.”

Harry nodded slowly, setting her scarf aside. “That’s good,” he murmured. “He’ll take care of her.”

Hermione exhaled, glancing at the fire flickering in the hearth. “I just hope she lets him.”

Minerva, Dec, and Orla Fallon—the Gryffindor guardians—entered the common room, their presence immediately commanding quiet attention. Minerva held a letter in her hand, her expression solemn yet composed.

She cleared her throat, addressing the gathered students. “This afternoon, we came across something that needs to be discussed—something that affects young people in ways that are often unseen.”

Her gaze swept across the room, ensuring everyone was listening.

“A student—whose name shall remain unknown for the time being—is dealing with what the non-maj’s call anorexia.”

A hush fell over the space. Some students exchanged glances, others sat still, absorbing the weight of her words.

Orla stepped forward, her voice carrying warmth and reassurance. “This is something that requires understanding, support, and care. And most importantly—it is not something anyone should face alone.”

Dec nodded, arms crossed thoughtfully. “We want to foster a space where struggles—big or small—can be spoken about. Where no one feels they have to keep it hidden.”

Minerva inhaled deeply, choosing her next words carefully. “We will be providing resources, guidance, and open conversation on this matter. If anyone needs support, for any reason, know that you are not alone.”

Angelina strode over to Harry and Hermione, frustration evident in every step.

“About time Hogwarts did something about this,” she snapped, folding her arms tightly. “When I had anorexia, Dumbledore’s brilliant suggestion was to just eat a lot.”

Her voice rose, anger laced with lingering hurt. “What kind of moron says that to an eleven-year-old child?”

Hermione’s expression darkened, empathy and outrage intertwining as she reached for Angelina’s hand. “That’s horrible,” she murmured. “No understanding, no actual help. Just—dismissal.”

Harry exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “He was supposed to know better.”

Angelina crossed her arms tighter, her lips pressing into a thin line. “He didn’t. And I had to figure it out on my own.”

Hermione squeezed her hand. “I wish you hadn’t had to.”

Angelina let out a breath, her anger softening into something quieter. “At least things are changing now,” she admitted. “I just hope it’s enough.”

Dec approached the trio with measured steps, his expression thoughtful yet serious.

“Ladies,” he said, voice low but warm, “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”

Angelina straightened slightly, crossing her arms. “Yeah? And?”

Dec sighed, glancing between them. “I just want to say—what you went through, Angelina, shouldn’t have happened. And what’s happening now, with Luna, matters.”

Hermione nodded, her expression softening. “That’s why we need to make sure she gets the help she needs.”

Dec ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “More than that,” he added. “We need to make sure no one else slips through the cracks again. Hogwarts is changing—but we have to make sure it’s real.”

Harry, still listening quietly, finally spoke. “You’re right.”

Angelina let out a slow breath, some of her frustration easing. “Then let’s make sure it is.” Angelina said as she walked away.

Bernisha glanced around the Great Hall at dinnertime, the warm glow of candles reflecting off the enchanted ceiling. Students laughed, plates clattered, and conversation hummed with the easy rhythm of familiarity.

She leaned back slightly in her chair, letting her gaze settle on Sirius. He was deep in discussion with the Ancient Languages professor, his expression animated, hands gesturing with unmistakable enthusiasm. Bernisha felt heat rush to her cheeks before she quickly looked away, composing herself.

A quiet tap on her hand drew her attention. Minerva, ever observant, arched a knowing brow.

“I think it’s time we announce the festival,” she murmured, her voice laced with amusement.

Bernisha blinked, then exhaled, a small, sheepish smile tugging at her lips. “Right—of course.”

Minerva smirked, giving her a subtle wink before turning toward the hall.

Bernisha straightened, clearing her throat as she prepared to speak. The hall quieted.

Bernisha strode up to the podium with confidence, her robes billowing slightly as she took her place at the front of the Great Hall. She cast a quick glance toward Ellie and winked.

Ellie’s eyes widened with excitement, barely able to contain herself as she whispered to Harry, “It’s happening!”

Bernisha cleared her throat, and the hall gradually hushed in anticipation.

“This spring, Hogwarts will be holding its first-ever festival,” she announced, her voice carrying with warmth and enthusiasm. “It will be part of a weeklong celebration to welcome the new season—an opportunity for our community to come together in joy, tradition, and renewal.”

Students murmured in excitement, leaning in to hear more.

“And to conclude this extraordinary week, we will hold the Ostara Ball!” Bernisha continued, her smile growing. “Everyone is invited to attend, and I cannot wait to see you all in your Ostara best!”

She paused briefly, then gestured toward Ellie. “Of course, we must thank Miss Ellie Shacklebolt for her inspiration—her vision of this festival has come to life, and we are thrilled to bring it to Hogwarts.”

Ellie beamed, cheeks flushing as scattered applause rippled through the hall.

Bernisha waited as the murmurs in the Great Hall quieted, her smile warm but reverent.

“And speaking of new celebrations—Halloween.”

The energy shifted slightly, curiosity sparking in the students' faces.

“It is also known as Samhain—a time to honor those we’ve lost,” Bernisha continued, her voice carrying the weight of tradition. “The founders themselves observed it, paying tribute to those who came before them—the witches and wizards who built the very foundations we stand on today.”

She glanced toward Hedy and nodded. “Professor Hedy, would you like to share with the students how we plan on celebrating Samhain this year?”

Hedy rose gracefully, clasping her hands together as she stepped forward.

“With great care,” she began, her expression thoughtful. “This year, we will not only acknowledge the magic that binds us to our past but celebrate it. There will be a remembrance ceremony, where students may honor loved ones—through stories, offerings, or simple moments of reflection.”

Soft murmurs rippled through the hall.

“And,” Hedy continued, her smile growing, “we will also hold a Light Procession, leading into the Harvest Feast. A night of remembrance and unity—not just mourning, but gratitude.”

Bernisha nodded, pleased. “This is a tradition we hope will continue. To honor, remember, and embrace the connections that make Hogwarts a home.”

Owls swooped gracefully into the Great Hall, their wings rustling as they released copies of the Daily Prophet onto tables and into eager hands. The air buzzed with the usual excitement that came with fresh news—curiosity stirring among students and faculty alike.

Saul snatched up a copy, his eyes scanning the front page. Within seconds, a broad grin spread across his face.

“Oh, Godric, you son of a witch!” he exclaimed, slapping the paper down onto the table with triumphant energy. “You did it!”

Harry frowned, scanning the headline again, confusion settling into her expression.

“Godric Gordon?” she asked, tilting the paper toward Hermione. “Who’s he?”

Before Hermione could respond, the doors to the Great Hall swung open, and Kingsley and Dolly strode in, their expressions carrying the weight of someone who already knew.

Dolly glanced at the students huddled around the newspaper, then at the general buzz of murmurs spreading through the room.

“I suppose they just found out,” she muttered to Kingsley, who gave a knowing nod.

As the murmurs grew, Lucius Malfoy approached with measured steps, his usual composed demeanor laced with something that almost resembled amusement.

“What exactly happened at the Wizengamot?” someone asked as Lucius stopped beside them.

Lucius folded his hands behind his back, a slow, deliberate smile tugging at his lips.

“Well,” he mused, his voice calm yet calculated. “Fudge announced his retirement, and the Wizengamot decided to hold an election… under truth serum.”

Several gasps rippled through the crowd.

Lucius chuckled, shaking his head. “And Godric—” he gestured to the paper, “—was completely honest about what he wanted for the country."

Kingsley smirked slightly, his stride steady as they made their way toward the staff table.

“Oh, he insisted on it,” he repeated, amusement flickering in his tone. “Bernisha’s already aware—probably weighing the pros and cons as we speak.”

Lucius raised a skeptical brow, folding his arms. “Doing what exactly?”

Dolly chuckled, shaking her head. “That, my dear Lucius, is the million-Galleon question.”

As they neared the staff table, Bernisha caught sight of them and let out a knowing sigh, already anticipating the conversation.

“Well?” Lucius prompted, tilting his head. “What position does Cornelius Fudge think he’s suited for?”

Bernisha took a sip of her tea, then placed the cup down carefully. “Advisor."

Kingsley chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, as long as his boat isn’t sinking, I suppose.”

Dolly smirked. “Or steering straight into the rocks.”

Bernisha exhaled, rubbing her temples. “Let’s just hope he’s better at advising than he was at governing.”

Lucius smirked, raising his goblet in mock salute. “To questionable career moves.”

Godric and Rowena sat at the edge of the Fountain of Magical Brethren, the enchanted water shimmering under the dim glow of Ministry torches. Rowena’s gaze lingered on the statues—witches, wizards, and magical creatures frozen in eternal unity.

She turned to Godric, eyes bright with determination. “We’re finally going to make the world a better place for these children,” she murmured, a rare, excited energy in her voice.

Godric squeezed her hand, his expression warm but steady. “Yes. And we’ll see it through.”

Footsteps echoed through the empty hall, breaking the quiet moment. They turned just as a familiar voice rang out.

“Ah, Godric and Mrs. Gordon!”

Cornelius Fudge strode toward them, his expression set with rehearsed politeness. His traveling cloak billowed slightly as he stopped before them, adjusting his hat with a quick motion.

“I wanted to meet with you both before I left for the train to Hogwarts,” he continued, offering a thin smile.

Godric exchanged a glance with Rowena before folding his arms. “And what might this meeting entail, Minister?”

Fudge gestured for them to remain seated, his expression shifting to something more calculated.

“Last year, Hogwarts hosted the Triwizard Tournament,” he began, his voice measured. “It nearly ended in disaster. Two students—almost killed.”

Rowena’s fingers tightened slightly against the cool stone of the fountain’s edge, her gaze unwavering.

“Do you understand where I’m going with this?” Fudge continued, pacing slowly. “What happened wasn’t just an accident—it was the moment everything Dumbledore had kept locked away for decades began spilling out.”

Godric exhaled, watching the Ministry’s torches flicker. “You’re calling it a Pandora’s box.”

Fudge nodded sharply. “Exactly. Containment is no longer an option. The truth—the buried secrets, the history Hogwarts has tried to ignore—is out. And we have two choices.”

Rowena raised a brow. “Which are?”

Fudge stopped, turning to face them fully. “We either try to keep it under control—or embrace the fact that Hogwarts is changing.”

Godric and Rowena, still clad in their modern attire, exchanged a knowing glance before raising their wands. With a flick, the enchantment unraveled, revealing their true selves—Gryffindor and Ravenclaw in all their legendary presence.

Fudge staggered back, his breath hitching as realization crashed into him. His eyes widened, shock rendering him momentarily speechless.

“Gryffindor? Ravenclaw?” His voice broke, barely above a whisper before the weight of it all settled.

“MOM? DAD?”

Rowena’s eyes softened, and Godric’s expression brimmed with warmth.

“Delius, our son,” Rowena murmured, emotion threading through her voice.

“How could we not remember our son?” Godric added, pulling Fudge into a firm embrace.

Fudge stood rigid for a moment before sinking into the hug, overwhelmed by the truth—the legacy, the forgotten ties, the sheer gravity of the moment.

“You did what you had to do,” Rowena reassured him, her gaze unwavering. “For the sake of our world.”

Fudge swallowed hard, the weight of history pressing against him. This was more than politics, more than power. It was family.

And family changed everything.

Cornelius—Delius—clutched at his robes, his breath uneven as the weight of centuries crashed down on him.

“So many centuries without you!” he choked out, tears gathering at the edges of his vision. “But you’re here now!”

Rowena reached for his hand, her fingers curling around his in quiet reassurance.

“I have to go home—to Hogwarts—and make things right!” Delius declared, voice thick with emotion.

Godric pulled his son into a firm embrace, holding him close as if making up for lost time in a single moment.

“Aunt Helga and Uncle Salazar are there,” he murmured, his voice steady, reassuring. “But to the children, they’re known as Hedy and Saul.”

Cornelius—Delius—nodded, a quiet understanding settling in his chest.

With one last embrace, he held onto them—onto history, onto family, onto the truth that had long been buried beneath centuries of forgotten memories.

Then, he stepped back, straightening his shoulders.

“I’m off, then,” he declared, voice strong, determined. “Do great things.”

With that, he turned, his footsteps echoing through the empty Ministry as he walked away—toward Hogwarts, toward change, toward a future he was finally ready to embrace.

Rowena watched as her son strode away, her smile tinged with emotion.

“There goes our Delly!” she murmured, a mixture of pride and lingering nostalgia threading through her voice.

Godric chuckled beside her, slipping an arm around her shoulders in quiet reassurance. “Don’t worry,” he said, watching Delius disappear into the distance. “We’ll be seeing quite a lot of him this time around.”

Rowena let out a soft, contented sigh, leaning into Godric’s embrace.

After centuries apart, their son was home.

Chapter Text

October settled over Hogwarts like a familiar spell, crisp autumn air weaving through the castle’s ancient corridors. The students and staff had finally found their rhythm—lessons flowed, friendships deepened, and the anticipation of upcoming celebrations lingered in the air.

Pumpkins lined the entrance hall, enchanted candles flickering in warm hues of orange and gold. The hum of daily life had become steady, comforting, as if the castle itself had exhaled, settling into the season.

Halloween had always carried a weight for Harry—Samhain, even more so.

The castle was alive with flickering candlelight, the soft hum of whispered traditions filling the halls. Students bustled with quiet excitement, preparing for remembrance ceremonies and the Light Procession. But for Harry, the day was always edged with something heavier.

Fifteen years.

Fifteen years since her parents had been taken from her. Since that night had forever marked her life in ways she was still untangling.

She stood near the window of the Gryffindor common room, watching the autumn wind swirl leaves across the courtyard. The world carried on—but inside, the quiet ache remained, pressing against her ribs like an old wound.

But this year felt different.

In the quiet reflection of Empathy, surrounded by those who understood grief in ways words could never fully capture, Harry finally realized it—she had never truly coped with her parents’ deaths.

Professor Anoushka and Lupin moved through the Empathy classroom, their eyes scanning the quiet exchanges taking place among students. The room was filled with soft murmurs, heavy pauses, and the unspoken weight of reflection.

Ellie sat beside Harry, her fingers wrapped firmly around Harry’s hand—a silent gesture of solidarity.

Professor Anoushka stopped near them, her gaze landing on Luna, who sat with an unreadable expression, tracing patterns along the edge of her sleeve.

“Luna,” Anoushka said gently, her tone measured, thoughtful. “You lost your father this summer.”

Luna’s fingers paused, though she didn’t look up right away.

“How are you coping with your loss?”

The question lingered in the space between them, not demanding an answer but offering room—room for grief, for honesty, for whatever Luna was ready to share.

She exhaled slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m still figuring it out.”

Hermione wrapped a comforting arm around Luna, offering a soft, understanding smile.

“That’s what grief is all about—processing,” she murmured, her voice steady, filled with quiet reassurance.

For Luna, the words settled, grounding her in the moment. But for Harry—something shifted.

As if a lightbulb had flickered to life inside her, illuminating a realization she had been avoiding, she abruptly pushed back her chair and ran from the room.

Ellie startled. “Harry!” she called after her, half-rising from her seat.

But Hermione placed a gentle hand on Ellie’s arm, her eyes filled with knowing.

“Let her go,” Hermione murmured. “She needs this.”

The door swung shut behind Harry, leaving the rest of the room in quiet contemplation.

Harry sat hunched over a desk in the dimly lit classroom, her breath uneven, her fingers curled tightly against the worn wood as silent tears traced paths down her cheeks. The weight of fifteen years pressed against her, the grief feeling raw in a way she hadn’t expected.

A voice cut through the quiet.

“It’s okay to cry, y’know.”

Harry jolted slightly, turning her red-rimmed eyes toward the doorway.

There, standing with his usual composed stance, was Snape.

Harry instinctively wiped at her face, embarrassed, but the tears wouldn’t stop. She turned away, trying to compose herself, when she felt a steady presence beside her.
Without hesitation, Snape stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.

His voice was quiet, carrying the weight of years unspoken.

“When your parents died,” he murmured, “I found you in your crib… crying.”

Harry inhaled sharply, her breath catching in her throat.

“You were just so small,” Snape continued, his voice edged with something raw, something real. “And all I could think was how wrong it was. How it shouldn’t have been you left behind.”

Harry’s fingers curled tightly against his robes, her heart pounding.

She had spent years believing she had been completely alone that night. But now—now she knew.

She hadn’t been.

And somehow, that changed everything.

Snape’s breath shuddered as he spoke, his voice barely holding steady. “That was also the night Hermione and Lupin were taken from me as well.”

Harry watched as his fingers curled tightly against the edge of the desk, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly. She had never seen him like this—never seen him unravel.

“Dumbledore had me under compulsions from that day until… Y’know.”

His voice broke. Tears welled in his eyes, the weight of years pressing down on him, threatening to swallow him whole.

Harry hesitated, then spoke, quiet but firm.

“But you got them back.”

Snape lifted his gaze, his expression raw, conflicted.

For a long moment, he just looked at her, as if searching for something—recognition, understanding, a truth he had buried deep.

Then, slowly, he nodded.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I got them back.”

Snape wiped his tears with a slow, measured movement, his gaze distant, lost in a grief that had long since settled into the fabric of his being.

“But it hurts me,” he whispered, voice barely audible, “that your parents will never get to see you grow up.”

Harry swallowed hard, the words striking deeper than she expected.

She had thought about it a thousand times—how different her life would have been if James and Lily had lived. But hearing Snape say it, feeling the ache in his voice, made it real in a way she hadn’t been prepared for.

Snape lowered himself onto the bench beside Harry, his usual composed demeanor crumbling under the weight of long-buried grief.

“I was told by Dumbledore that my brother—James—hated me. That he resented me.” His voice wavered, thick with years of suppressed anguish.

Harry held her breath, watching as Snape pressed his hands against his knees, his fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his robes.

“But I knew that was a lie,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I loved him. He was my twin!”

Tiny footsteps echoed in the quiet room.

Harry lifted her tear-streaked face just as Ellie stepped inside, her wide, determined eyes locking onto her.

Behind her, Hermione and Remus lingered in the doorway.

“She insisted on finding you,” Hermione said, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.

Ellie hesitated for only a moment before rushing forward, throwing her arms around Harry in a fierce embrace.

Harry let out a shaky breath, startled by the sudden warmth, the certainty in Ellie’s presence.

Snape wiped at his own face before clearing his throat, composing himself.

Remus exchanged a knowing glance with Hermione.

“She’s right to,” Remus murmured. “No one should grieve alone.”

And for the first time, in the weight of shared loss, Harry truly believed it.

Snape wiped his tears with a slow, deliberate motion, composing himself as best he could. Then, turning to Ellie, he offered a small, tentative smile—one that felt unpracticed, as though it hadn’t been used in a long time.

“Think I can have one of your famous hugs?” his voice was softer now, carrying something almost uncertain, as if he wasn’t quite sure he deserved it.

Ellie didn’t hesitate.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tightly, her warmth breaking through the lingering heaviness in the room.

Harry watched, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Congratulations,” she murmured. “You’re officially in the Ellie Hug Club now.”

Snape let out something that might have been a chuckle—or perhaps just an exhale—but either way, in that moment, he felt just a little lighter.

Snape adjusted Ellie in his arms, casting a mock-serious glance at the group.

“Alright, it’s about time for lunch,” he declared. “And if we were still allowed to deduct points, I’d be taking 100 from each of you—just on principle.”

Hermione let out an exaggerated sigh, crossing her arms. “That’s generous. I was expecting 200.”

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. “And yet somehow, they all survived your teaching without losing every last point.”

Snape smirked, shifting Ellie slightly as she giggled, clearly amused by the banter.

“Enjoy your temporary immunity,” he quipped, carrying her toward the hallway. “But don’t think for a second I wouldn’t still enforce unofficial deductions in my head.”

Harry laughed, following close behind.

Harry moved around the room, adjusting the folds of her robes, smoothing stray strands of hair—preparing herself for the evening ahead.

As her gaze swept across her belongings, her eyes landed on her trunk.

She paused.

“Almost forgot—the pictures,” she murmured, stepping toward it.

Lifting the lid, she rifled through the familiar contents until her fingers brushed against the worn leather of her photobook.

She pulled it out, holding it for a moment before flipping open the cover.

The first image flickered to life—her parents, laughing, caught in some private joke, frozen in time.

Harry inhaled deeply, pressing the book close against her chest.

Tonight wasn’t just about the feast. It was about remembrance.

And she wasn’t going to face it empty-handed.

Harry clutched the photobook tightly as she stepped out of her room, her grip firm but careful, as if holding onto something more than just memories.

As she descended the steps, Angelina fell into stride beside her, her expression bright with anticipation.

“Ready for Samhain?” she asked, her voice laced with excitement but edged with quiet understanding.

Harry exhaled slowly, glancing down at the worn cover of the book in her hands.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I think I am.”

Angelina wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders, pulling her in with a reassuring squeeze.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” she said, her voice steady and full of warmth. “We’ll be with you.”

Harry exhaled slowly, the weight in her chest easing just a little.

The Great Hall had been utterly transformed for the Samhain feast, its usual grandeur taking on a deeper, more solemn beauty.

Floating candles flickered with an eerie glow, their flames tinged with silver, casting long shadows against the stone walls. Pumpkins carved with intricate Celtic symbols hovered amidst bundles of dried herbs, their delicate patterns whispering of ancient traditions.

The long tables, draped in rich autumn hues, were adorned with offerings—bowls of seasonal fruits, woven wreaths of ivy and mistletoe, and candles meant to honor those who had come before.

Above, the enchanted ceiling reflected the deep velvet night, swirling with wisps of mist that moved like lingering spirits, the very air humming with quiet reverence.

Harry paused at the entrance, taking in the sight. The room felt alive—not in celebration, but in remembrance.

Tonight wasn’t just another Hogwarts feast.

On the far wall stood a solemn shrine, bathed in the soft glow of enchanted candles.

Offerings of food—fresh bread, fruits, spiced cider, and carefully arranged treats—were placed with reverence, meant to honor those who had passed. Small bowls of honey and salt sat among the plates, symbols of remembrance and protection.

Glass bottles and delicate goblets held spirits, shimmering faintly under the flickering candlelight, as if the very air carried whispers of the past.

Harry paused, gazing at the shrine, her fingers tightening around her photobook.

Luna stood beside Harry, cradling a framed photograph of her parents, the soft candlelight reflecting off the glass.

“Ready to do this?” Luna asked gently, her voice carrying the quiet reverence of the night.Harry inhaled deeply, nodding.

Slowly, she opened her photobook, fingers tracing the edges of the worn pages before carefully lifting the picture of her parents.

She stepped forward, the weight of remembrance settling in her chest, and placed the photo beside the shrine, nestled among the flickering candles and offerings.

Cedric stepped forward, his expression filled with quiet understanding as he wrapped his arms around Harry in a firm, steady embrace.

Harry let out a shaky breath, leaning into the hug, the warmth of his presence grounding her amidst the weight of the night.

No words were needed—just the simple act of being there.

After a moment, Cedric pulled back slightly, offering her a small, reassuring smile.

“You’re not alone,” he murmured.

Cedric took Harry’s hand, his grip steady, reassuring, as he led her toward their table where everyone else had already settled. The soft glow of candlelight flickered over the faces of her friends, their expressions filled with quiet understanding.

Draco struck a match, lighting a single candle at the center of the table, its flame catching and dancing gently in the dimly lit Great Hall. He glanced up at Harry, his voice softer than usual.

“How are you feeling, Harry?”

Harry inhaled, the weight of the night pressing against her—but not in the way it used to. Not like an unbearable burden, but like something shared. Something acknowledged.

“For the first time in fifteen years…” she murmured, watching the golden glow of the candle. She hesitated, then exhaled.

“…I don’t feel alone.”

Draco nodded slowly, the corners of his mouth tugging into the smallest of smiles.

Ellie’s eyes widened slightly as the grand doors to the Great Hall swung open, their ancient hinges groaning softly under the weight of years.

Headmistress Bernisha stepped forward first, her presence commanding yet composed, the flickering candlelight casting sharp angles across her features.

Behind her, Minister Gordon entered with his wife, Roselyn, walking in graceful tandem, their expressions measured but warm. The soft murmur of the feast quieted ever so slightly at their arrival.

Standing near the entrance, Hogwarts Advisor Cornelius Fudge lingered beside Mrs. Gordon, his familiar, practiced smile settling into place as he surveyed the room.
Ellie glanced between them all, instinctively shifting closer to Harry.

Ellie studied Cornelius Fudge with keen interest, her small hands resting on Harry’s lap as she leaned in closer.

“You know Aunt Minnie’s big family book?” she asked, her voice hushed but full of curiosity.

Harry adjusted her hold on Ellie, her gaze drifting briefly to Kingsley and Dolly, who were deep in conversation with Fudge. “Our family history?” she clarified.

Ellie nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Advisor Fudge looks a lot like Delius!”

Harry blinked, glancing at Fudge once more. “Delius?” she echoed, her brow furrowing slightly. “You think so?”

Ellie gave an emphatic nod, her expression brimming with certainty. Then, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, she added, “And I have a sneaky suspicion that Hedy and Saul are not really who they say they are.”

Harry chuckled, entertained by the sudden shift in conversation. “Oh? Who do you think they are?”

Ellie leaned in further, her tone grave but her eyes alight with mischief. “I think they’re Helga and Salazar… back from the dead!”

Harry laughed, shaking her head in amusement. “You really think so?”

Ellie grinned, her delight infectious. “I know so.”

Harry’s gaze flickered between Cornelius Fudge and Mrs. Gordon, catching the subtle exchange—the quiet familiarity in the way his hand rested on her shoulder, the amused glint in her eye as she winked at him in return.

Beside her, Ellie tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly as if piecing together a puzzle only she could see.

She turned to Harry, her voice laced with intrigue. “Wanna take a wild guess?”

Harry smirked, keeping her voice low. “Depends. Are we talking reasonable guesses or Ellie-level guesses?”

Ellie grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “Ellie-level, obviously.”

Harry chuckled, shaking her head as she glanced back at Fudge and Mrs. Gordon. There was something undeniably familiar about their exchange—something unspoken, yet understood.

Harry glanced at Ellie, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Ellie’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in. “So,” she whispered, keeping her voice low, “are we thinking long-lost relatives, secret identities, or—”

Harry cut her off with a quiet laugh. “Let’s not jump to ancient wizard conspiracies just yet.”

Ellie huffed dramatically. “Fine. But if I turn out to be right, you owe me chocolate frogs for a week.”

Harry smirked, shaking her head. “Deal.”

Ellie let out a soft, innocent giggle as Cedric slid into the seat beside Harry, his presence bringing an easy familiarity to the moment.

Harry glanced at him with a small smile before turning her attention toward the front of the Great Hall.

Headmistress Bernisha stepped gracefully onto the podium, her robes catching the warm glow of the enchanted candles overhead. Beside her, Minister Gordon took his place, his composed expression carrying a quiet solemnity—one that reflected the significance of the evening.

The hum of conversation settled as the hall shifted into expectant silence.

Bernisha let her gaze sweep across the gathered students and faculty, her voice steady as she began.

“Tonight, we celebrate Samhain—also known as Sahuin—and, of course, Halloween. It marks the end of the harvest season, a time of transition. But more than that, it is a time of remembrance—for those who have left us, yet remain in our hearts.”

She reached for a candle, lighting it with a single flick of her wand, the flame catching and casting gentle illumination across her features.

“The Non-Magical author Robert Louis Stevenson once said, ‘Like a bird singing in the rain, let grateful memories survive in time of sorrow.’”

She paused, letting the words linger before looking toward the students.

“Does anyone know what that means?” she asked, her tone inviting reflection.

The warm flicker of candlelight danced across the solemn faces in the hall, the weight of the question settling among them.

The Great Hall remained hushed, the flickering glow of candlelight reflecting off thoughtful faces as students and faculty considered Bernisha’s question.

After a brief pause, Luna stepped forward, her ethereal presence commanding attention in its own quiet way.

“I think it means,” she said gently, “that even in sorrow, we should hold onto the joy of the memories we’ve been given. Like a bird that sings despite the rain, our gratitude for those we’ve lost should carry us forward, not weigh us down.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd, Harry nodding slightly as the words settled deep within her.

Bernisha smiled, her eyes reflecting quiet approval.

“Exactly,” she said. “Remembrance is not just about mourning—it is about honoring, cherishing, and carrying forward the love that never truly leaves us.”

She gestured toward the shrine, the flickering candlelight casting soft illumination over the photographs, the offerings of food and spirits meant to welcome those who had gone before.

“Tonight,” she continued, “we invite you all to embrace that belief. To remember not with sorrow, but with gratitude.”

Harry inhaled slowly, her fingers resting lightly on the edges of her photobook.

Tonight wasn’t just about honoring the past—it was about finding peace with it.

The hall remained hushed, the glow of candlelight casting shifting shadows across the solemn faces gathered for the evening’s remembrance.

Minister Gordon stepped forward, his expression composed, yet the weight of history settled in his stance. His voice, steady but reverent, carried through the Great Hall.

“Fifteen years ago, a tragedy unfolded—one that changed the course of our world. James Potter and his wife, Lily, were murdered.”

Minister Gordon let the weight of his words settle over the hall, the flickering candlelight reflecting in his solemn gaze.

“For years, the circumstances surrounding their deaths have shaped our world. Shaped you, Harry.” His eyes met hers for a brief moment, acknowledging the life she had been forced to navigate in the wake of tragedy.

Harry inhaled slowly, steadying herself as the silence stretched.

“But tonight,” he continued, “we do not dwell on the pain of that loss. We honor their lives—the love they gave, the legacy they left behind.”

He gestured toward the shrine, the soft glow of the candles illuminating the framed photographs, the offerings placed with quiet reverence.

“The past cannot be changed. But the way we carry it forward? That is in our hands.”

Gordon met Harry’s gaze, his expression warm with quiet encouragement.

“Harry, if you’re comfortable, would you like to come up and say a few words?”

The Great Hall remained hushed, the flickering candlelight casting soft shadows across the gathered faces.

Harry glanced around her table, feeling the weight of the moment pressing against her chest.

Cedric met her eyes, offering a small nod—steady, reassuring.

Ellie gave her hand a quick squeeze.

Draco, Luna, and the others watched with quiet expectation, their presence a silent promise: She wasn’t facing this alone.

Taking a slow breath, Harry rose to her feet.

And as she stepped toward the podium, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around her photobook, she knew—whatever she said next wouldn’t just be words.

It would be acknowledgment. It would be truth. It would be hers.

Harry stepped up to the podium, exhaling slowly as she turned to face the gathered crowd. The flickering candlelight reflected off the framed photographs at the shrine, illuminating faces long gone but never forgotten.

She glanced down at her photobook, her fingers tracing the worn edges before she finally spoke.

“For most of my life,” she began, her voice steadier than she expected, “my parents were more memory than reality. Pieces of stories told by others, fragments of photographs, echoes of the past.”

She swallowed, shifting her gaze across the room, meeting the eyes of her friends, her chosen family, the people who had stood beside her through everything.

“But tonight, standing here with all of you… I feel something different.” She paused, exhaling slowly. “I feel them—not just in memory, but in the love that has carried me forward. In the lessons they left behind, in the people who continue to honor them.”

She glanced at Minister Gordon, then at Headmistress Bernisha, feeling the weight of recognition in their presence.

“For years, their deaths defined so much. But tonight, I want to remember them not for how they died—but for how they lived.”

A murmur of quiet agreement rippled through the hall, the weight of her words settling over those gathered.

Harry took a deep breath, her grip tightening on the photobook before she finally placed it on the podium.

“Tonight, we honor them. And we carry them forward.”

And as she stepped back, the soft glow of the shrine’s candles seemed to burn just a little brighter.

Harry carefully flipped through the worn pages of her photobook, her fingers tracing the familiar edges of each image until she found the one she was looking for.

Her parents.

She took the photo out with deliberate care, holding it for a moment as the flickering candlelight reflected off the glossy surface.

Then, slowly, she stepped forward, each movement measured, the weight of remembrance settling in her chest.

Reaching the shrine, she knelt briefly, placing the photograph among the others—among the faces of those who had been loved, who had been lost, but who had never truly left.

The soft glow of the candles danced over the image of James and Lily, illuminating their warm smiles as if, somehow, they were still here.

A hushed gasp rippled through the Great Hall as golden light poured in, swirling like liquid fire, illuminating the shrine and casting shimmering reflections across the enchanted ceiling.

The murmurs began softly—whispers carried on the waves of magic, voices not quite tangible yet undeniably there.

Harry stood frozen, her breath catching as she watched the radiant energy curl around the photographs, the offerings, the flickering candles.

A quiet hum filled the air, like something ancient awakening.

Ellie clutched Harry’s sleeve, her wide eyes darting toward the source of the glow.

“Harry…” she whispered. “I think—”

But she didn’t finish.

Because at that moment, the voices grew clearer.

They weren’t just murmurs anymore.

They were names.

They were recognition.

They were the past reaching forward.

The golden magic swirled higher, pulsing gently, as if breathing with the very walls of the Great Hall. The whispers intensified, threading through the air, overlapping yet distinct—voices carried by something older than time itself.

Harry held her breath, listening.

Names. Stories. Echoes of laughter, sorrow, love.

It wasn’t just magic.

It was them.

The spirits of those who had been honored, their presence woven into the energy of the night, answering the call of remembrance.

Ellie clutched Harry’s sleeve tighter, her gaze darting toward the shrine where the golden glow now settled over the photographs.

And then—one voice stood out.

Clear. Familiar.

Harry’s heart stopped.

Because she knew it.

Harry barely dared to breathe.

The golden magic pulsed, shimmering like liquid stardust, twisting through the air as the voices became clearer. Stronger.

And then—she heard it.

A voice, distinct yet carried by the enchantment itself. Warm. Familiar.

"Harry…"

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

The murmurs in the Great Hall fell away, the moment stretching, pulling, drawing her into something far greater than herself.

Ellie gasped softly, clutching her sleeve.

Cedric sat straighter.

Draco tensed, his gaze sharp.

And then—the golden light gathered, swirling at the shrine, wrapping around the photograph she had just placed there.

As if it recognized them.

As if—somehow—they were here.

The golden magic pulsed, flowing like liquid sunlight as the forms began to merge—shifting, weaving together in a breathtaking display of unity.

It wasn’t just James and Lily.

Luna’s father appeared, his presence flickering like starlight, his kind gaze watching over her.

Bernisha’s great-grandmother, Natsai, stood regal and composed, her spirit carrying the quiet wisdom of generations past.

And more—so many more. Their essence intertwined, their energy shifting and folding like threads in a tapestry too vast to comprehend.

Bernisha stepped forward, her breath catching as she looked at Natsai, her voice trembling with emotion.

“What’s going on?” she asked, tears brimming in her eyes.

Saul and Hedy exchanged a glance, their smiles soft, knowing. Then their attention shifted—toward the small figure standing beside Natsai.

A little girl with Down syndrome, her hand curled trustingly around Natsai’s own, her bright eyes shining with quiet wonder.

Bernisha’s breath hitched.

It was their daughter.

McGonagall looked around in stunned disbelief, her sharp gaze scanning the swirling golden magic and the figures standing before her. The weight of the moment pressed heavily on her chest as she stepped forward, her breath shallow as she approached James and Lily.

James grinned, his expression holding a familiar twinkle of mischief.

“Apparently, Dumbledork wasn’t too keen on the Founders’ Samhain traditions,” he said, the amusement in his tone unmistakable.

McGonagall scoffed, muttering under her breath. “Albus always did have his… particular opinions.”

James chuckled but gestured toward Natsai, who stood proud and composed beside her great-granddaughter.

“Natty here found out from Lady Magic herself that her dear great-granddaughter revived the tradition,” he continued, nodding toward Bernisha with warmth. “So we figured—why not make an appearance?”

Lily sighed, shaking her head fondly. “Honestly, James, you make it sound like we crashed a party.”

James smirked. “Isn’t that what we do best?”

Harry sucked in a sharp breath, her entire body freezing as Lily’s hand cupped her face—warm, solid, real.

Not like a ghost. Not like an echo of the past.

Real.

Her mother’s touch burned with familiarity, with love, with everything she had spent a lifetime longing for.

Lily’s emerald eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her voice barely above a whisper.

“My little girl…”

Harry held onto her mother, her fingers clutching the fabric of Lily’s robes as if afraid she might disappear. The warmth, the reality of it, wrapped around her like a long-lost embrace that time had stolen—but was now returned.

James cleared his throat, his voice carrying that familiar, easy humor.

“Hey, kiddo, does your dad get a hug, or am I officially chopped liver?”

Harry laughed, shaky but real, and pulled back just enough to turn toward him. With a soft, disbelieving breath, she threw her arms around James next, his embrace just as solid, just as true.

Remus, standing nearby, let out a quiet chuckle, his eyes shining with emotion as he glanced at Snape.

“Shall we join them?” Remus asked, his voice both teasing and thick with unspoken sentiment.

Snape, who had been standing stiffly, wiped at his tears hastily before giving a small nod—one filled with silent understanding.

And so, without words, the past, the present, and the unexpected future converged in a golden-lit embrace.

Lily turned, her emerald eyes shining as she took in the approaching figures—Remus with his familiar, warm presence, Kingsley with his steady composure, Hermione with quiet reverence, Dolly with uncontained wonder.

But when her gaze landed on Snape, a spark of mischief flickered across her face.

“Sevvy,” she gasped dramatically, a grin spreading as she clasped her hands together. “You haven’t aged a bit!”

Snape exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes, but the faintest twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

Remus chuckled, clapping him lightly on the back. “You should. It’s not every day Lily Potter praises your skincare routine.”

Hermione smothered a laugh while Kingsley shook his head with a smirk. Dolly, wide-eyed, looked between them all as if witnessing a moment straight out of legend.

And as the golden magic continued to shimmer around them, Harry watched—knowing, deep in her heart, that this wasn’t just a reunion.

James grinned broadly, his energy as infectious as ever as he swept his gaze across the gathered figures.

“Dolly, Sevvy! My siblings! Kingsley, my brother from another mother! And—” His gaze landed on Ellie, and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “This must be the famous Ellie!”

Before anyone could protest, James scooped Ellie into his arms with effortless ease, spinning her slightly before settling her comfortably against his side.

Ellie let out a delighted laugh, gripping onto his robes. “I think I like you!”

James chuckled, tapping her nose playfully. “That’s lucky for me, because I already like you too!”

Lily sighed, shaking her head fondly. “James, put the child down before you start filling her head with Marauder nonsense.”

James scoffed. “Oh, come on, Lils—do you see the potential here?”

Kingsley crossed his arms, smirking. “Still causing chaos, I see.”

Dolly grinned. “And yet, somehow, this feels just right.”

Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Merlin help us all.”

Harry watched the exchange, laughter bubbling up inside her.

James barely had time to finish his sentence before he felt a firm tap on his shoulder.

Turning swiftly, his grin widened as he came face to face with Uncle Tom, standing there with a knowing smirk.

“Well, look who finally showed up!” James laughed, pulling him into a strong embrace. “You always had impeccable timing, you know that?”

Tom chuckled, shaking his head. “You were asking loud enough for Lady Magic herself to hear. Thought I’d save you the trouble of searching.”

Lily rolled her eyes fondly. “Which means half the spirits in this hall already knew you were looking for him.”

James clapped a hand over his heart in mock offense. “So I’m the loud one now? I recall someone having quite the voice during our Hogwarts days.”

Tom let out a hearty laugh, and the golden magic swirled around them, wrapping the moment in warmth, history, and connection.

The evening had been filled with laughter, stories, and long-overdue reunions. As the celebration wound down, the golden glow of magic still lingered in the air—a quiet, steady hum of remembrance.

Harry held both her parents’ hands, relishing the warmth of their touch as the moment stretched just a little longer.

“So, I get to see you every Halloween?” she asked, her voice soft, hopeful.

Lily squeezed her hand, her emerald gaze unwavering. “It’s mandatory. Lady Magic insists.” Then, with a flash of her old fire, she added, “The fact that Dumbledore never allowed it makes me want to tear him apart.”

Snape and Dolly approached, their expressions unreadable yet carrying the weight of something shared—something healed.

“The Dementors at Azkaban are already handling that, brother,” Snape quipped, a rare smirk gracing his lips.

James laughed, pulling Snape and Dolly into a firm embrace. “Good. Then you keep an eye on my daughter, yeah?” His voice, though lighthearted, carried the quiet depth of trust.

Dolly smiled, but before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the moment.

“James!”

Sirius came barreling toward them, his grin wide and wild.

“You are not leaving without a hug from me!” he declared.

James barely had time to react before Sirius practically tackled him, locking him in an unrestrained embrace.

James let out a loud laugh. “Merlin, Padfoot! You trying to break me?”

Sirius just held tighter, his voice thick with something unspoken. “Just making up for lost time.”

Lily smiled knowingly, watching as Bernisha held onto Natsai with quiet reverence, the golden magic wrapping around them in soft, swirling tendrils.

“She’s a keeper, Sirius,” Lily mused, her tone filled with certainty. “Lady Magic told me herself.”

Sirius smirked, crossing his arms as he glanced toward Bernisha. His expression held something deeper—admiration, understanding, maybe even a touch of pride.

“Oh, I know...” he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths.

Lily chuckled, nudging him lightly. “Well then, don’t mess it up.”

Sirius scoffed. “Who do you take me for? James?”

James let out an exaggerated gasp. “Excuse me?”

Laughter rippled through the group, the golden magic swirling warmly around them, sealing the moment as one not just of reunion—but of belonging.

Lily and James enveloped Harry in one last embrace, their warmth grounding her in a way she had never known before.

Lily whispered softly, her lips brushing against Harry’s hair. “See you in a year, my love.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to Harry’s head, lingering just long enough for the moment to etch itself into memory.

James squeezed her tightly, resting his forehead against hers for just a heartbeat. “We love you, kiddo. Always.”

Harry held on, memorizing the feeling—the warmth, the security, the undeniable truth that they were here, even if just for now.

Then, slowly, they stepped back, their hands slipping away as they turned toward the golden light.

The magic swirled around them, wrapping them in its radiant glow.

And as they walked into it—fading into the shimmering brilliance, their forms dissolving like morning mist—Harry didn’t feel loss.

She felt connection.

She felt promise.

She felt home.

Dolly wrapped an arm around Harry, offering a reassuring squeeze. “At least we get to see them,” she murmured, her voice soft but certain.

Harry nodded, her gaze lingering on the fading golden light before she and Dolly turned toward Ellie, who was comfortably perched in Uncle Tom’s arms.

Ellie tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “So… Myrtle is going with Aunt Lily and Uncle James?”

Uncle Tom nodded, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “I think she’s finally getting sick of scaring kids in bathrooms.”

Dolly chuckled. “Well, that is a full-time job.”

Ellie giggled. “Maybe she’ll finally get some peace.”

Harry smiled, letting the warmth of the evening settle in her chest.

Minister Gordon and Roselyn exchanged a quiet glance as they stepped out of the Great Hall, the lingering golden glow still shimmering behind them.

The evening had been one of remembrance, of connection, of something far deeper than tradition—it was restoration.

Just as the night air embraced them, Fudge suddenly rushed out, his footsteps quick, his expression unguarded.

Without hesitation, he pulled them both into a firm hug, holding on as if anchoring himself to the moment.

“Happy Samhain, Mum… Dad,” he murmured, his voice thick with unspoken emotion.

Roselyn gently pressed a hand against his back, her touch comforting, steady.

Minister Gordon exhaled, the weight of history settling within him, but instead of burden—it felt like belonging.

Gordon’s voice trembled with emotion as he turned toward Delius, tears glistening in his eyes.

“You too, Delius,” he whispered, his words carrying the weight of love, of remembrance, of something deeper than the fleeting moment.

Delius blinked, clearly caught off guard by the raw sincerity in Gordon’s tone. Then, without hesitation, he stepped forward and embraced him—a hug that held years of unspoken understanding, of quiet recognition.

Roselyn smiled softly, watching as history and tradition intertwined in the golden-lit night.

Samhain wasn’t just about remembering the past.

It was about honoring it.

And as the magic pulsed gently around them, carrying whispers of love and connection, the promise of next year already lingered in the air.

Chapter Text

For the first time in history, the Queen had formally invited the Minister of Magic, Godric Gordon, to Buckingham Palace for tea. It was a moment steeped in significance—one that carried the weight of centuries of secrecy and the promise of newfound understanding.

Godric Gryffindor—known in the present age simply as Minister Gordon—stood in front of the mirror, fumbling with his tie, frustration creasing his brow.

“I have a weird feeling, Rowena,” he muttered, his fingers failing to master the knot.

Roselyn—known to most as Rowena Ravenclaw—smiled gently, stepping forward to properly fix his tie with deft precision.

“What is it, Godric?” she asked, smoothing the fabric with care.

Godric exhaled, staring at his reflection. “This meeting… It feels like more than just tea.”

Rowena’s gaze softened, her hands resting against his chest for a moment. “It is more than tea.”

Godric let out a low chuckle. “That’s what worries me.”

Rowena shook her head. “Don’t be worried. Be ready.”

As the clock chimed the hour, the significance of the meeting settled between them.

Godric straightened his shoulders, adjusting his muggle suit.

Ready or not, history was waiting.

Meanwhile, at the palace, the Queen felt a familiar tension settle in her chest—a quiet, steady nervousness that she hadn’t experienced in years.

After ensuring the final preparations were underway, she dismissed her guards, their disciplined footsteps fading down the corridors as she made her way to her private office.

The moment the heavy door clicked shut, she reached into her pocket, fingers brushing against cool metal.

With measured precision, she withdrew a key and fit it into a discreet lock embedded in the ornate desk.

A soft click echoed in the quiet room as the hidden compartment slid open.

Inside, nestled within velvet lining, rested an elegant wand—its polished wood gleaming, untouched by time.

The Queen hesitated for only a breath before reaching for it, her fingers wrapping around the familiar shape.

A pulse of energy tingled beneath her skin, subtle but undeniable.

It had been years—decades—since she had last held it.

She smiled, exhaling softly as she brushed her fingers over the polished wood of the wand one last time.

"Merlin, be on my side," she whispered, the words carrying both quiet anticipation and long-held resolve.

Just as the thought settled, the door to her office swung open.

“Your Majesty, Godric and Roselyn Gordon have arrived,” the guard announced, his tone respectful yet formal.

The Queen’s expression shifted in an instant, composure slipping effortlessly into place.

With practiced ease, she closed the box and returned it to its hidden compartment, turning the key with a soft click.

“Please, make sure they are comfortable,” she instructed, smoothing the front of her dress as she straightened. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

The guard bowed slightly before retreating, leaving her alone once more.

She took a steadying breath, casting one last glance at the closed desk drawer.

Whatever this meeting would bring, she was ready.

The Queen smiled warmly as she gestured toward the elegant spread before them.

She folded her hands gracefully on the table, her gaze steady as she met Godric and Roselyn’s eyes.

“You’re probably wondering,” she began, her voice measured yet filled with quiet significance, “why, after all these years, I’ve decided to meet with you.”

Godric leaned forward slightly, his fingers grazing the rim of his teacup as he studied her.

“I would be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind,” he admitted.

Roselyn glanced between them, sensing the weight of the moment.

The Queen exhaled slowly, shifting ever so slightly in her seat.

The Queen’s lips curved into a knowing smirk as she studied the two before her.

“Godric, Rowena,” she murmured, her voice laced with quiet amusement. “I see through you. You haven’t forgotten who I am… have you?”

Godric tensed ever so slightly, exchanging a glance with Roselyn—Rowena.

The Queen’s gaze held them in place for a beat longer before she gracefully rose from her seat, the weight of unspoken truths settling between them.

Without another word, she gestured for them to follow, turning toward the doors of her private office.

The air shifted—charged with something deeper than mere formality.

This wasn’t just tea.

She moved with practiced precision, ensuring the guards were stationed outside before quietly locking the office door behind her.

With measured intent, she retrieved the wand from its hidden box, the polished wood cool against her fingertips.

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she lifted the wand and spoke.

"Revelio."

A shimmer of magic pulsed outward, wrapping around her like threads of light, unraveling the illusion layer by layer until it dissolved completely.

Before them stood not the aged monarch the world had known, but someone much younger—someone timeless.

Rowena’s breath hitched, her sharp blue eyes widening as recognition struck like lightning.

"Guinevere! As I live and breathe!" she gasped, her voice thick with disbelief, with history.

Guinevere laughed—a rich, warm sound, full of the joy of long-awaited reunion.

"I waited centuries for you two to show up!" she declared, arms thrown out as if finally welcoming what had long been missing. "My favorite pupils!"

Her grin turned sly, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"You really thought I’d reveal myself to Dumb-ass Dumblefuck?"

Godric let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. "You always did have impeccable taste in who not to trust."

Rowena exhaled deeply, a slow smile creeping across her face.

Guinevere’s eyes twinkled with curiosity as she turned to Godric and Rowena, linking her arm with Rowena’s in a gesture of familiarity.

“How are my descendants? I believe they go by Potter now?” she mused, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

Godric chuckled, shaking his head. “Potters, Snapes, Umbridges—but purely for safety reasons. The goblins are handling the paperwork as we speak.”

Rowena nodded, her tone laced with quiet authority. “The lineage is well protected, though not without challenges. But trust me, Guinevere, it’s in good hands.”

Guinevere hummed in approval, then tilted her head, her expression shifting. “And Salazar? Helga? How are they?”

Rowena’s smile deepened, a flicker of pride in her gaze.

“Properly restoring their legacies at Hogwarts,” she answered, a rare brightness threading through her voice. “The Founders are finally returning to their rightful place.”

Guinevere exhaled, satisfaction settling in her features.

“Good. Good.”

Guinevere gestured for Godric and Rowena to sit, the weight of her words settling between them before she spoke.

“I’m considering abdicating the throne,” she admitted, her tone measured yet firm. “I want to return to the magical world.”

Rowena’s sharp blue eyes flickered with intrigue, but she remained silent, allowing the words to hang in the air.

Godric leaned forward slightly, studying her. “After centuries of ruling, you’re ready to leave it behind?”

Guinevere exhaled slowly, running her fingers along the polished wood of her wand. “I was never meant to rule this world forever.” She glanced between them, a rare vulnerability threading through her expression. “The magical world is home. It always has been.”

Rowena finally spoke, her voice laced with quiet understanding. “Then let’s make sure your return is the right one.”

A slow smile spread across Guinevere’s lips.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Godric leaned back slightly, studying Guinevere with a thoughtful expression.

“You do realize,” he said carefully, “that stepping away from the throne won’t be simple.”

Guinevere chuckled, the weight of centuries reflected in her eyes. “Nothing ever is, Godric. But I trust the right people to ensure a smooth transition.”

Rowena folded her hands on the desk, her gaze sharp. “If you return to the magical world, it won’t just be a quiet retirement. You’ll be stepping into a place that has evolved—changed.”

Guinevere nodded. “And that’s precisely why I want to come back.”

Godric exchanged a glance with Rowena before exhaling. “Then let’s ensure your return isn’t just a homecoming. Let’s make it a reclamation.”

Guinevere’s slow smile carried a spark of anticipation.

“Now that sounds like a plan.”

Rowena laughed, shaking her head in amused disbelief. “And how, exactly, do you expect us to pull this off?”

Guinevere smirked, completely at ease. “It’s already done.”

Rowena raised a skeptical eyebrow, but Guinevere continued, undeterred.

“I informed my son of my decision this morning. He’s ready—prepared to accept the throne without hesitation. The statements are written, the formalities in place.” She leaned back slightly, a hint of satisfaction in her expression.

“All I need to do is give the okay and—” she flicked her wrist in mock dramatics—“poof! I’m back at Pendragon Manor, enjoying a cup of tea and petting my corgis.”

Godric chuckled, crossing his arms. “Just like that, huh?”

Guinevere’s grin widened. “Just like that.”

Rowena shook her head, exhaling. “Merlin help us all.”

But despite her teasing, there was an undeniable spark of excitement in the air.

The wheels were already in motion.

As if on cue, the door opened, and her son stepped into the room, his presence carrying the quiet authority of his impending role.

Without hesitation, Guinevere flicked her wand, the shimmering magic weaving around her as she seamlessly shifted back into the familiar form of the old Queen.

Her son studied her, his expression unreadable, but his voice steady.

“Mother, are you ready?”

Guinevere met his gaze, a knowing smile playing at her lips.

“For this?” She exhaled, the weight of centuries settling over her. “I’ve been ready for a long time.”

Rowena and Godric exchanged glances, sensing the finality of the moment—the shift in history.

The transition was no longer a possibility. It was happening.

Her son studied her carefully, searching her expression for any lingering hesitation.

Guinevere, still in the form of the aging Queen, offered him a reassuring smile.

“It’s time,” she said simply.

He nodded, exhaling deeply before stepping forward. “The formal statement is ready. The world will know by morning.”

Rowena leaned back in her chair, arms crossed as she observed the exchange. “And when it does?”

Guinevere’s eyes gleamed with quiet certainty. “Then the past and present will finally align.”

Godric smirked. “Then I suppose it’s time to welcome you home, Guinevere.”

She turned toward him, the weight of centuries in her gaze.

“It’s time to return.”

Her son wiped away a tear as he pulled Guinevere into a firm embrace, holding onto her as if trying to memorize the moment.

“Give my love to everyone,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Tell them… I’ll make them proud.”

Guinevere held him just as tightly, her hand cradling the back of his head for a brief, steadying second. “You already do,” she murmured.

As he stepped back, he turned to Godric and Rowena, offering them a grateful nod.

“She taught you well,” he said, his tone filled with quiet respect.

Rowena smiled, her gaze warm but unwavering. “And you will make a grand king.”

The weight of history settled over them, but instead of burden, it felt like legacy.

Guinevere approached the grand fireplace with measured steps, the flickering flames casting golden light across the room.

With practiced ease, she reached for the ornate bowl resting on the mantle, scooping up a handful of shimmering Floo powder.

She turned back to Godric and Rowena, a sly smile playing on her lips.

“I believe a visit to Gringotts is in order,” she announced, her tone carrying the weight of centuries—of plans long set into motion.

Without hesitation, she tossed the powder into the flames.

The fire roared emerald green, illuminating her determined expression.

Then, in a swirl of magic, she stepped forward—and disappeared.

Godric and Rowena exchanged a knowing glance, years of unspoken understanding passing between them in mere seconds.

Rowena smirked. “Well, this is going to be interesting.”

Godric chuckled, adjusting his cloak. “Would it ever be anything less?”

Without hesitation, they stepped forward, each grabbing a handful of Floo powder and tossing it into the emerald flames.

The fire roared to life, swirling with magical energy.

With one last glance at each other, they stepped into the hearth—vanishing in a burst of green light.

Ragnok was enjoying a quiet moment in his private office, the rich scent of his tea curling through the air when the emerald flames roared to life.

Guinevere, Godric, and Rowena stepped out of the fireplace, the glow fading as they regained their footing.

Ragnok studied Guinevere for a beat before offering a rare, respectful smile.

“Welcome home, Lady Pendragon,” he said, bowing slightly in acknowledgment.

Guinevere returned the gesture with a knowing nod, stepping forward with purpose.

“Ragnok,” she began, her voice firm yet steady, “I’d like for myself and my descendants to reclaim the Pendragon name. Dumbledore and his cult teachings are dead.”

Ragnok’s sharp eyes gleamed with interest as he set his cup down, leaning forward ever so slightly.

“Finally ready to right the wrongs of the past, are we?” he mused, fingers tapping against the polished desk.

Godric smirked. “Long overdue, I’d say.”

Rowena crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering. “The world is shifting, Ragnok. It’s time history reflects truth.”

Ragnok considered their words for a moment before standing, adjusting his robes.

“Then let us ensure your name is restored properly.”

The weight of centuries settled over them—but for the first time, it felt like freedom.

Ragnok motioned for them to sit as he pulled a thick ledger from his desk, its gilded edges shimmering faintly under the soft glow of the enchanted lamps.

“The Pendragon lineage has been dormant for quite some time,” he mused, flipping through the ancient records with meticulous care. “Buried under layers of misdirection, altered history, and, of course—Dumbledore’s interference.”

Guinevere leaned forward, watching the goblin’s careful movements. “That ends today.”

Godric nodded. “We need the rightful accounts restored, the vaults reclaimed, and protections adjusted accordingly.”

Rowena rested her elbows on the desk, lacing her fingers together. “And we need this done quietly—until the time is right.”

Ragnok looked up, his sharp eyes gleaming with interest.

“Consider it done,” he said, a slow grin forming.

As his quill met parchment, history began to shift.

Harry’s fingers stilled, the soft yarn resting against her lap as Hedwig swooped down, dropping an envelope beside her with precision.

She blinked, setting her crochet hook aside as she reached for the letter.

“That’s odd,” she murmured to herself, running a thumb over the crisp parchment before carefully breaking the seal.

Her eyes scanned the contents, her heartbeat quickening with every word.

On this day, Harrieta 'Harry' Guinevere Joan Potter

Has been reclaimed as a member of the House of Pendragon

And will henceforth be known as Harry Pendragon.

She read it again. And then once more.

The weight of the words settled in her chest—a shift in identity, a reclaiming of something long hidden.

Pendragon.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the letter.

This wasn’t just a name.

It was history.

And it was hers.

Harry’s grip on the parchment tightened as she looked up, watching Draco and Hermione stride toward her, clutching their own identical letters.

Draco’s eyes were wide with a rare mix of astonishment and excitement.

“Cousin!” he exclaimed, barely containing himself. “Did you see—”

Hermione, ever composed but clearly rattled, held up her own parchment. “We all got them.”

Harry swallowed, glancing between them before looking back down at the words inked across the page.

Pendragon.

Not just her name—their name.

Harry blinked, staring down at the parchment in her hands before looking up at Kingsley as he approached, holding a squirming Ellie in one arm and another letter in the other.

“How?” Harry breathed, still struggling to process the weight of the revelation.

Kingsley offered a small smile, though even he seemed surprised. “Dolly’s at Gringotts as we speak. It looks official to me. But you know Dolly—she won’t leave until she’s absolutely certain.” He held up the parchment in his hand. “Ellie got one too.”

Harry’s eyes widened as she glanced at the smaller envelope, Ellie’s name elegantly scripted across the page.

The little girl tilted her head curiously, reaching for the letter but still clutching her father’s robes.

“What’s a Pendragon, Daddy?” Ellie asked, her voice soft and innocent.

Kingsley chuckled, adjusting his hold on her. “A name with great history, love. And now, it’s yours too.”

Harry exchanged a glance with Draco and Hermione, the weight of the moment settling between them.

Snape’s voice cut through the air like a whip.

"Minnie wants us. NOW!"

He didn’t wait for a response, merely gestured sharply for them to follow, his cloak billowing as he turned on his heel.

Harry barely had time to exchange glances with Draco and Hermione before scrambling to her feet.

Kingsley adjusted Ellie in his arms, murmuring a quiet reassurance to her before stepping forward.

Snape smirked as he pushed open the door, leading the group into an empty classroom.

Minerva stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, her expression a storm barely contained.

Next to her, Cornelius Fudge looked distinctly uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot.

The moment they entered, Minerva’s sharp gaze locked onto Snape.

"You have some explaining to do, DELIUS!" she snapped, her tone razor-sharp.

The kids exchanged confused glances—Harry, Draco, Hermione, and Ellie all looking between the adults, trying to piece together the sudden urgency.

Minerva turned sharply, her expression a mix of exasperation and disbelief as she pointed at Fudge—Delius.

"Cornelius has decided—upon himself—to inform me that Godric and Rowena have returned and are currently escorting the Muggle Queen of England back here!"

Her voice carried through the room, thick with incredulity.

"What?!"

The stunned chorus echoed as every head snapped toward Delius, eyes wide with shock.

Lucius strode in just as the chaos erupted, chuckling as he took in the bewildered faces.

"I cannot believe Hedy and Saul kept this from us. But now?" He smirked, crossing his arms. "I understand why."

Before he could enjoy the moment further, Snape—without hesitation—smacked him upside the head.

"You don’t just nonchalantly decide to abduct the Queen of England," Snape snapped, rubbing his temple in frustration.

He turned abruptly to Delius, narrowing his eyes. "Unless—"

The room fell into silence.

All eyes were now on Delius.

Fudge—Delius—stood tall, watching their stunned reactions with evident amusement.

“The Queen of England is actually Queen Guinevere,” he repeated, letting the weight of the revelation settle over the room. “She mentored my parents when they discovered their magic. She also taught Helga and Salazar—whom you now know as Saul and Hedy.”

Harry stared, mouth slightly open as she tried to process the information.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—” she stammered, gripping the edge of the desk. “You’re saying that the Minister is actually Godric Gryffindor, his wife is Rowena Ravenclaw, and the Goldenbergs are really Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin?”

Delius gave a slow, satisfied nod.

Harry inhaled sharply, suddenly feeling lightheaded. She stumbled slightly before dropping into the nearest chair, hands pressed against her temples.

“And…”

Delius’ grin only widened as he took in their stunned expressions.

"Godric and Rowena are my dear parents."

Silence stretched across the room, thick with disbelief.

Draco and Hermione exchanged glances, their fingers still clenched around the parchments that had so suddenly rewritten their histories.

Harry exhaled sharply, letting her forehead drop onto the desk as if grounding herself against the sheer weight of it all.

Then—Hedy, Helga, entered the room, Saul—Salazar—beside her, both carrying an air of knowing amusement.

"Oh, it’s only just begun," Hedy said, the familiar warmth of a chuckle in her voice. "Guinevere Pendragon was the wife of King Arthur."

Ellie, still perched against Kingsley’s side, blinked up at her, curiosity bright in her wide eyes.

"From the Round Table?" she asked, voice small but certain.

Hedy nodded with a soft smile.

Harry lifted her head slowly, staring at them all.

"Of course," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "Because why wouldn’t we add Arthurian legend to the list?"

Delius smirked. “Welcome to the real history lesson, Harry.”

Minerva exhaled slowly, gripping the parchment between her fingers as she steadied herself. The shock had settled, but the weight of it remained.

"So why now?" she murmured, her voice quieter, more measured. "Why has she decided to return?"

Delius sat beside Harry, resting his hands on the desk. His expression softened—not the authoritative presence of the Minister, but that of a son speaking of his mother.

“She’s done what she can for Muggle England,” he said simply, glancing down at his own parchment. “She misses home.”

Silence lingered for a beat as Minerva absorbed his words.

Harry studied the curve of Delius’ expression—this wasn’t just about politics or legacy.

It was about family.

Delius exhaled, the weight of history pressing against his chest as he continued.

“For centuries, the Dumbledore family—with the exception of Aberforth and Ariana—believed the teachings of Guinevere and the Founders were nothing more than hogwash.” His voice carried both frustration and sorrow, his fingers tightening slightly around the parchment.

Kingsley raised a hand, his expression measured but his voice laced with quiet curiosity. “Aberforth and Ariana didn’t believe in the so-called prophecies?”

Delius nodded, the sadness in his gaze unmistakable.

“Ariana discovered the truth when she was fourteen.” He inhaled slowly, bracing himself for the next words. “Albus was furious when he found out. And he—”

His jaw tightened.

“He killed her.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Harry’s breath hitched. Draco stiffened beside her. Hermione’s grip on her parchment whitened her knuckles.

“The books,” Delius continued, his voice lower now, tinged with grief, “claim that some Muggle boy found her practicing magic and killed her.” He shook his head. “But that was a lie.”

He glanced toward Kingsley, toward the others whose expressions were now a mix of horror and realization.

“And Aberforth,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “was never the same.”

Hedy wiped away a tear, her voice thick with emotion as she spoke.

“Aberforth and Ariana were never Dumbledores,” she revealed, shaking her head. “They were kidnapped as babies. When we accessed the vaults after October 1981, the goblins showed us the truth.”

She reached into her robes and carefully placed two aged birth certificates on the table, the parchment crisp despite its years of secrecy.

Hermione leaned forward, scanning the names written in elegant script. Her breath hitched.

“Pendragons?” she whispered, eyes flickering between the documents and Hedy.

Salazar—Saul—gave a solemn nod.

Delius slammed his hands against the desk, frustration radiating off him in waves.

“I curse them for manipulating an entire magical lineage,” he growled, his voice thick with fury. “Greater good, my arse! Myself included!”

The room was silent for a beat, the weight of centuries pressing down on them.

Then—Rowena stepped forward, her presence steady, her gaze unwavering.

“Son, calm down,” Rowena murmured, the quiet authority in her voice enough to still the storm brewing in Delius’ eyes. “We’re rewriting our family’s history—properly.”

Behind her, Godric strode in, his stance firm but his expression understanding. Guinevere followed, her gaze steady, carrying the weight of wisdom earned through centuries.

Dolly entered behind them, her sharp gaze sweeping across the room before settling on Kingsley and the child in his arms.

“So this is where everyone disappeared to,” she mused, arching an eyebrow.

Without hesitation, she reached for Ellie, who giggled as she nestled against Dolly’s side.

Kingsley smirked. “I see you’ve already met the Queen.”

Harry lifted her head, eyes darting between the faces surrounding her, the weight of revelations pressing down like a fully stocked library shelf teetering on the brink of collapse.

“Okay,” she exhaled, pushing her fingers through her hair. “Can somebody please recap what on earth is going on here?”

Draco leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms with an exasperated smirk.

“Oh, gladly,” he said. “Because honestly? I’d love someone to recap it for me too.”

Hermione, ever the composed one despite the chaos, straightened and took a deep breath. “Alright—quick summary.”

She pointed at Guinevere. “She’s not just the Queen of England—she’s actually Queen Guinevere Pendragon—wife of King Arthur.”

Harry blinked. “Sure. Of course, she is.”

Hermione pressed on. “Delius? He’s actually the son of Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw.”

Draco sat up straighter. “Which means our Minister of Magic is an actual Hogwarts Founder.”

Hermione nodded before motioning toward Hedy and Saul. “And they? They’re actually Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin.”

Harry let out a short, mirthless laugh. “Bloody hell—so we’re casually rewriting everything about magical history today?”

Kingsley chuckled. “Pretty much.”

Hermione continued. “Then there’s Aberforth and Ariana—they weren’t Dumbledores. They were Pendragons. And Albus killed Ariana when she discovered the truth.”

Draco whistled low. “So Albus didn’t just hide history—he erased it.”

Harry groaned, rubbing her temples. “Merlin’s bloody beard.”

Rowena smirked. “Oh, Harry, we haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet.”

Guinevere chuckled. “Let’s just say—history isn’t what you thought it was.”

Harry scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Lemme guess. Sirius is gonna be a dad.”

Before anyone could react, two more sets of footsteps echoed into the room.

“How did you know that?” Sirius asked, amusement flickering in his eyes as he and Bernisha stepped forward.

Harry froze, blinking in shock as she processed his words.

“Umm… you’re really gonna be a dad?” Her voice softened, the sarcasm slipping into genuine surprise.

She glanced between them before her gaze landed on Bernisha, who simply smiled and placed a hand gently on her belly.

“Sirius and I were pen pals when we were kids,” Bernisha explained, her voice warm. “And later, when we were adults.”

She glanced up at Sirius, who grinned, clearly recalling their years of correspondence.

“We were engaged before the events of Halloween 1981,” Bernisha continued, her fingers tracing absentmindedly across her abdomen. “And, well… I'm due next summer.”

Cheers erupted through the room, laughter and excitement spilling over as Sirius grinned, raising his hands to quiet the crowd just enough to speak.

"We plan on getting married Christmas Eve," he announced, his voice carrying a mix of triumph and pure joy. He pointed at Harry, then gestured to the rest of the group.

"Your appearances are mandatory—no excuses!"

Remus chuckled, clapping Sirius on the shoulder. "Bold move, mate, announcing it like a summoning charm instead of an invitation."

Harry blinked before breaking into a grin. "Are you serious?"

Sirius smirked. "Always."

Draco rolled his eyes, muttering, "He walked right into that one."

Guinevere smiled warmly, lifting a goblet in celebration. "Well then, it seems Hogwarts will have quite the Christmas gathering this year."

Rowena smirked. "*And I suspect it’ll be legendary."

Aberforth Dumbledore wiped his hands on his bar towel, the familiar scent of firewhisky and old parchment filling the quiet room as he reached for the envelope resting on the barstand.

The pub had settled into its usual silence, the last of the patrons gone, leaving only the crackle of the dying hearth behind him.

He turned the parchment over in his hands, frowning slightly at the unfamiliar seal.

Carefully, he broke it open, his breath hitching as his eyes scanned the words.

Aberforth Dumbledore is once again a Pendragon.

Any inheritance from your ancestors will be in your vaults at Gringotts.

Welcome Home, Lord Aberforth.

Aberforth stared at the words, his grip tightening on the parchment.

Then—his vision blurred.

A ragged breath escaped him as he set the letter down, his fingers trembling slightly against the worn wooden surface of the bar.

For decades, he had carried the weight of the Dumbledore name—its pain, its betrayals, its losses.

And now, with nothing more than ink on parchment, the truth had finally returned to him.

Slowly, he glanced at the second envelope beside it.

A wedding invitation.

His lips pressed into a thin line—then, without thinking, he reached for it.

Because after everything—after all the lies—It was time to return home.

Sirius and Bernisha walked hand in hand out of the old classroom, the quiet hum of distant conversation fading as they stepped into the corridor.

Sirius’ thoughts drifted, a weight settling in his chest that had been lingering for far too long.

“Before he died,” he murmured, his voice laced with something unspoken, “Xeno asked me to adopt Luna.” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “I never really thought about it until now.”

Bernisha glanced at him, her fingers squeezing his gently. A soft smile curved her lips.

“Well,” she said, tilting her head as they continued their slow walk, “maybe it’s time to think about it properly.”

Sirius let out a quiet chuckle, but his expression remained thoughtful, the gears in his mind turning.

Xenophilius had trusted him with Luna’s future.

Bernisha squeezed Sirius’ hand, her smile warm and knowing.

“I mean, you’re already part of her life,” she continued, voice gentle yet sure. “And it would be nice for a new addition to have a big sister.”

Sirius inhaled deeply, the thought settling into place like a missing puzzle piece.

He wasn’t just agreeing—he was deciding.

His grin widened, a spark of excitement lighting his eyes.

“I’ll go to the Ministry first thing tomorrow,” he declared, his voice brimming with energy.

Bernisha laughed softly, leaning into him. “Then Luna’s about to get the best Christmas surprise ever.”

For the first time in years, Sirius felt like he wasn’t just reclaiming his own life—

He was building one.

The guards of Azkaban stood in eerie silence as the lifeless body of Albus Dumbledore was removed from his cell, the weight of his fall from grace settling into the cold, unforgiving air of the prison.

The head guard, arms crossed, observed the process with detached efficiency—until a single parchment slipped from the dead man’s fingers, fluttering to the ground like the last breath of a dying era.

He stepped forward, picking up the parchment with deliberate care.

A chuckle escaped him as he skimmed the words, the irony not lost on him.

"I believe I’ve found the culprit," he joked, shaking his head as he read the ink-stained confession aloud.

My family is free.

Aberforth PENDRAGON.

A slow smirk played at the guard’s lips as he pocketed the letter.

Even in death, Dumbledore’s secrets had crumbled beneath the truth.

And Aberforth?

Aberforth had finally won.