Chapter Text
───── SATORU ─────
By the time Satoru was led to the Ravenclaw dorms, the castle had gone quiet.
The prefect guiding her didn't say much. Just walked ahead with tired steps and a practiced, neutral expression. He stopped in front of a large bronze door embossed with an eagle-shaped knocker.
The prefect lifted the knocker, then rapped once.
"What flies without wings, strikes without warning, and leaves silence behind?" the eagle intoned.
"A headache, " Satoru said.
The door clicked open.
The prefect blinked. "Most people get stuck the first time."
"I'm not most people," she replied, stepping into the tower. In truth, it was a pure accident. She was merely describing the eagle.
The Ravenclaw common room was serene, a domed ceiling glowing with soft moonlight, velvet armchairs arranged in a circle, abundant bookshelves that towered over the room. An elegant white marble statue of a woman stood gracefully in the alcove.
"Your dormitory is up the stairs," the prefect said, drawing her out of her thoughts. "I'm afraid I can't escort you further, but your suitemates should be waiting for you upstairs."
He gave a polite nod and turned away.
Satoru exhaled and glanced at the spiral staircase ahead. Then, without a word, she began to climb.
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Her suite was nice, or at least what she'd seen of it so far. Plush blue chairs with silver cushions were arranged around a central coffee table, the color scheme a common recurrence across the space. Overhead, a floating candle chandelier cast a warm glow. But it was the walls that caught her attention, deep indigo, scattered with starts that slowly shifted.
An enchanted star map?
She turned, looking at the main wall. A fireplace took up the bulk of the space, flanked by several armchairs. Three girls sat nearby, their robes rumpled after a long day. They looked up as Satoru approached, not startled, just expectant.
They'd been waiting for her, then.
The first to speak was a tall girl with skin the color of warm chocolate. Her hair framed her face in loose curls, and a faintly glowing bracelet circled her wrist – warding charms, Satoru presumed. Her voice was warm.
"Amari O'Connell," she said. "You're the girl from the feast."
Satoru nodded. "Yes, I am."
"Selene Greengrass," said the next. She was pale, her long blonde hair braided loosely over one shoulder. Her green eyes were vibrant. They felt like they saw too much. "Nice of you to skip the whole train-sorting-dinner thing."
"Thought I'd make an entrance."
The third girl was shorter, a brunette with freckles dusting her nose. She blinked nervously over the rim of her cocoa mug – the soft one in the trio, Satoru guessed.
"I'm Cordelia Clarke. Do you ... need anything?"
"A nap and a new world," Satoru muttered. She didn't offer her name. They already knew it.
Nobody laughed, but no one pushed her either. Satoru figured the Hat had made the right call by placing her in Ravenclaw, not that she'd tell him that.
Cordelia stood, walking her through the room. "We each have our own bedrooms. You should have a desk and vanity. We share the bathroom, though."
Her room was nice. A queen-sized four-poster bed, privacy curtains in blue, Ravenclaw blue, with a silver trim. The bed had already been made. She sat down on the edge, letting out a deep breath.
"Thank you," she whispered. It was soft.
But Cordelia heard. She nodded in acknowledgement, then slipped out.
They were polite girls, Satoru decided. Smart enough to know that pressing her wouldn't get them answers. But they weren't unkind, either.
She could work with that.
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Satoru didn't sleep.
It was too quiet. Too clean. There was no city noise, no cursed hum of energy, no war.
The peace should have been comforting. It was alienating instead.
When the early morning light bled into the sky, she got up, washed up and headed for the Great Hall. She made sure her blindfold was still tied.
Breakfast was already underway. The long tables bustled with sleepy conversation. She slipped onto the end of the Ravenclaw bench, grabbed toast and tea, and tried not to think.
"Morning," came a voice beside her.
Amari. Same soft tone as the night before.
Satoru nodded back. "Sleep?"
"Enough."
They ate in silence for a minute. Then Selene appeared, sliding in across from them with a yawn and a satchel full of books.
"I suppose you're famous now," she said, sipping her tea. "The wandless wonder."
Satoru raised an eyebrow. "That going to be my nickname?"
Cordelia appeared next, clutching a half-burnt scone. "I like it."
"You would," Selene muttered.
Satoru glanced sideways at Marina. "Is it always like this?"
"It's worse on exam days."
Satoru let herself half-smile. "You know, I thought Ravenclaws would be more intense."
Selene lifted an eyebrow. "I'm insulted."
Amari smirked. "You'll get used to the tower."
"I'm already annoyed about the riddles," Satoru muttered. "If a door talks, you should either burn it or seal it."
Selene sipped her tea, stifling a laugh. "Here, we solve it. Or sulk until someone else does."
Cordelia reached across and quietly nudged a second piece of toast toward Satoru. "You don't have to sit alone."
Satoru blinked.
Selene caught her eye and said, bluntly, "I like you."
Satoru blinked again.
"...Okay."
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It was a Saturday. No classes.
But Professor Slughorn had sent for her. Whoever he was.
They met near the Entrance Hall. He reminded her of a walrus, except a mustached one in velvet robes. He was beaming, though. Practically vibrating where he was standing.
"Miss Satoru! There you are! I trust your night wasn't too dreadful?"
"You say that like you expected it to be."
"Well," he chuckled, "you did fall from the sky."
Before she could reply, another voice cut through the corridor.
"Professor."
Tom Riddle stood a few steps behind Slughorn, dressed impeccably. Black coat, sharp color, boots so shiny she swore she could see her reflection.
"I thought I might accompany you to Diagon Alley," he said. "I have some work to attend to."
Slughorn beamed. "Excellent! It's great to see you're fostering inter-house relations, Tom."
Satoru didn't say anything. Just adjusted her blindfold.
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Gringotts, the wizarding bank, was cold.
Satoru stood at the teller's desk while a goblin checked records and ledger lines, muttering in an incomprehensible language. Slughorn was beside her, adjusting his cuffs and casting a sidelong glance at the goblin.
"Merry met, Grobnar," Slughorn said with an exaggerated smile, nodding deeply. The goblin barely acknowledged him, continuing to scratch at the ledger. "I trust you're in good health today?"
Grobnar grunted, and then turned to the next page. "Blood test required," he said, without looking up.
Slughorn nodded. "Ah, of course!"
Satoru blinked. "A blood test?"
Grobnar didn't look up. "Yes. For verification."
Satoru frowned but held out her arm. With a swift motion, the goblin pulled out a knife and slashed her hand, letting it drip onto the paper below. The parchment glowed.
"Episkey," Slughorn muttered. Her wound stitched up.
Satoru stared at the glowing parchment. Beneath it, her name appeared, along with a string of obscure properties. But then, the goblin's eyes narrowed as he scrolled further.
He turned the paper over to her.
Satoru had never seen that many zeroes before in her bank account. Or lack of zeroes, rather.
"No account found," Grobnar said.
Satoru stared.
Her name glowed faintly on the page. Under it: Balance – 0 Galleons .
"Zero," she said slowly. "Wow. That's generous."
Slughorn looked mildly horrified.
Tom said nothing. Just watched.
"Well," Slughorn huffed, smoothing his cuffs, "perhaps we'll handle supplies ourselves, hmm?"
She didn't respond. Not really. Not until they stepped outside.
"Do I get a cardboard sign too?" she asked. "Or is being broke just part of the Hogwarts starter kit?"
Slughorn patted her arm. "Hogwarts has always looked after its own. I'll arrange for something. But there are small jobs available such as ingredient prep, notes, tutoring. And, of course, my Slug Club . If you attend my little gathering next week, I'll personally see to your wand and robes."
She blinked. "You're bribing me with party favors."
"Call it patronage . "
She glanced sideways at Tom. "Is this normal?"
He shrugged. "For him."
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Ollivanders was not what she expected. Tall stacks of boxes crowded the aisles, so tightly packed that she had to move carefully in fear of knocking over a stack. The store, in all honesty, felt more like a maze than a shop. The wooden floor creaked under her feet, a sure reminder of the centuries the store had endured.
"You've arrived," said a soft voice.
Mr. Ollivander emerged from the corner, his tall, gaunt figure almost blending into the shadows. His pale eyes were unsettling, almost glassy, like he wasn't in the room with her. She couldn't help but feel like he could see something no one else could.
"I've been waiting," he murmured.
Satoru frowned but didn't respond. There was no point in arguing.
He began to move in slow precision, measuring her arm with a practiced motion, his fingers cool and indifferent.
After a few moments, Ollivander turned to the shelves behind him, his fingers dancing in the air as he pulled wands from the ether. He presented the first one, a slender, dark mahogany wand.
"Try this one," Ollivander instructed.
Satoru took it in her hand, feeling its surface. Despite her numerous attempts to force a connection, the wand pulsed weakly in her palm before the core rejected her touch entirely.
"No," she said, handing it back.
Ollivander didn't flinch. His fingers were already reaching for another box.
"This one," he said, presenting another wand. It was lighter and made out of a pale birchwood.
Satoru took it with a raised eyebrow. She twirled it in the air, but her cursed energy reacted violently, as though it wanted to shatter the wand into pieces. The wood crackled under her grip, the wand heating up.
"No," she said quickly, letting it drop back into Ollivander's waiting hand.
"You're resistant," Ollivander remarked quietly.
He moved to the next shelf, his fingers brushing over boxes until he found a thick, dark wand with strange black markings. A twisted, gnarled vine seemed to wrap around the length of it.
"Give this one a try."
Satoru's fingers closed around it. Once again, she raised the wand and flicked it, and as soon as the motion was completed, the air shifted. Her cursed energy didn't reject the wand, but it didn't fully accept it either. Instead, it tugged, twisted, like it was caught between opposing forces. The magic was fierce, too fierce. The power was wild and uncontrolled. It didn't belong to her.
"Too rebellious," she muttered, almost under her breath. "I can't tame it."
"Perhaps something more in line with your nature?" Ollivander murmured, almost to himself.
He moved toward the far corner of the room, where the oldest wands were kept. The boxes here looked ancient, faded and worn. He brought one down, and handed it to Satoru.
It was a darker wood, one she'd never seen before, its texture almost alive, rippling under her fingers. She held it hesitantly, then raised it to the air. This time, her cursed energy didn't pull away. There was no resistance. No wild, chaotic surge. The connection was immediate. Seamless.
Satoru turned the wand in her hand, feeling the subtle hum of power, how her chest seemed to have calmed. She finally understood why wizards loved their wooden sticks so much.
"Yew," Ollivander said, his voice softer now. "Twelve and a quarter inches. Cursed-core ash blend."
Satoru's eyes narrowed as she held it up, inspecting every inch of its surface.
"That one," Ollivander said, almost whispering, "was carved from a tree that grew where a battle ended."
Satoru almost snorted. "Fitting," she agreed.
Ollivander studied her for a moment longer before speaking again, this time with a quiet reverence. "The wand chooses the witch, Satoru Gojo. And you've found your match."
She didn't respond. Instead, she handed the wand back to him, her fingers reluctant to let it go. It felt too much like part of her now.
Slughorn, who had been waiting in the background, handed over the payment without fuss. His usual jovial smile was gone, replaced by a look of quiet respect.
As they turned to leave, Satoru felt the faintest flicker of a smile tug at the corner of her lips. All things considered, this was a good day.
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Outside, Tom lingered at the corner of the street.
"Thank you for the company," he said.
"You didn't talk much," she said. She was surprised.
"I was watching."
He glanced back at Gringotts. "Inheritance tests. Interesting little tools, aren't they?"
She didn't answer.
"If you take one and your family's dead," he continued, "it opens access. To vaults. Titles. Rights."
Satoru's brow furrowed.
Tom just smiled. "Useful, if one knew the right moment to try."
Then he nodded once, turned, and disappeared into Knockturn Alley.
Slughorn adjusted his scarf and gave a low hum. "Charming boy."
Satoru stared after him.
"Yeah," she muttered. "The same way poison's pretty in a glass."