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Chapter Text

3 June, 1992

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

“Dear Dumbledore,

Although I do not believe quite so many explanations are necessary under the circumstances, I would have much preferred to discuss this matter in person. Unfortunately, my wife has been unwell, and I cannot leave her alone even for a couple of days. Thus, I deemed it proper to write, as my dear apprentice is rather shy— and, admittedly, a touch clumsy.

For the past six months, he has been travelling abroad in search of injured or endangered magical creatures. I lent him my old suitcase for the task. Regrettably, a fair number of these creatures have escaped. He managed to track them, and it appears they’ve taken refuge within the Forbidden Forest near the school grounds. We are uncertain as to what has drawn them there, but something clearly has. I would be most grateful if you could offer the young Mr Howard some assistance in retrieving them.

I do hope you recall the small favour still owed, Professor.

Nathaniel is still a bit inexperienced, but he has learnt a great deal under my tutelage over the past two—nearly three—years, and I trust him implicitly. I hope you shall extend him the same courtesy.

With warmest regards,

Newt Scamander”

Professor Dumbledore finished reading the letter, then lowered the parchment and turned his gaze towards the young man seated before him. Nathaniel kept his head bowed low, his nerves clearly getting the better of him. He had never imagined he would one day find himself within the walls of Hogwarts, let alone standing before Albus Dumbledore himself.

“Mr Howard, is it?” Dumbledore said, peering at him over his half-moon spectacles.

“Yes, sir.”

“Ah. American. I shall assume you attended Ilvermorny? Which house?”

“Pukwudgie, sir.”

“Interesting,” the Headmaster murmured. Nathaniel nodded awkwardly.

“Well then, Mr Howard, best to get to work straight away. Though the school year is drawing to a close, the students are still very much present, and I would rather not see them placed at risk. As Headmaster, I’m afraid I shall not be able to accompany you on your recovery efforts. However, I believe Professor Kettleburn and our gamekeeper, Hagrid, will be more than happy to assist. Both are more than capable when it comes to handling creatures of every sort.”

“Of course, sir. That sounds ideal.”

“Now, tell me—how many creatures have escaped? And more importantly… how dangerous are they?”

“I haven’t yet managed to count them all, sir, but perhaps… forty or fifty?”

“Forty?”

“Or fifty, could be even more” Nathaniel repeated sheepishly. “I can’t be entirely sure. Mr Scamander has… expanded the suitcase rather a lot and—”

Realising he was beginning to ramble, he stopped himself.

“Sorry, er… as for their level of danger, well, there’s a wide range, sir. From puffskeins to… a wampus.”

Dumbledore was momentarily lost for words. He sighed and gave a slow nod.

“Then you must begin as soon as possible. The last thing we need is Ministry interference—or worse, creatures venturing beyond the Forest. I do hope you’ll have them secured before the start of next term.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do everything I can.”

“I trust your suitcase contains all you’ll require. I can offer you a modest chamber near the kitchens, if that will suffice?”

“That would be splendid, sir.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore said, rising to his feet. He walked over to a set of drawers and rummaged through them until he found a small brass key. Holding it between his fingers, he turned back.

“This key will guide you to your room, Mr Howard. I suggest you try not to get distracted. The castle is vast and rather easy to get lost in, and I daresay we wouldn’t want that.”

“No, sir. Thank you… truly. Until next time.”

Dumbledore gave a gentle nod, and Nathaniel returned it. The Headmaster then placed the key in the palm of Nathaniel’s hand. At once, it lifted into the air, darting off like a Snitch. Nathaniel followed quickly, just managing to keep up with its swift movements.

It led him down corridor after corridor, past endless staircases and portraits that whispered as he passed. He scarcely had time to take anything in—his focus remained fixed solely on the key. The corridors were busier than expected at that hour, filled with chattering students. Nathaniel did his best to weave between them, hoping he wouldn’t collide with any of them in his haste.

Eventually, the key came to a sudden stop and dropped neatly onto the stone floor in front of a plain wooden door. The corridor smelled faintly of yeast and warm bread—he must have been near the kitchens. Beyond the door appeared to be a large storage room stacked with barrels.

He retrieved the key, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. Closing it behind him, he let out a long breath. Already, he was forming a plan in his mind—a way to recover the escaped creatures before they caused any real trouble.

Chapter Text

1 September 1992

The Hogwarts Express

Darcy’s POV

There are certain things Malfoys simply do not do.

They do not doubt. They do not falter. And, above all, they do not lose.

I’ve known that since as far back as I can remember—dining in a hall far too grand for so few smiles, attending family gatherings where names mattered more than words, and receiving letter after letter from my parents that began with “Remember who you are.” At fourteen, I have learned to wear these lessons like highly polished armour. My grades? Impeccable. My hair? Perfectly blond and always in place. My voice? Steady, but restrained. And my reputation in Slytherin? Faultless.

However, that’s merely what my parents expect from me. I’ve crafted the perfect Malfoy image around me; following every single rule, doing everything my family wanted me to do, even pretending to agree with all their beliefs and decisions. The key word is pretending, because now I’ve built my beliefs and moral compass on my own, without the influence of other people trying to guide me through a path they chose for me without wondering for a split second if that’s what I really want. Once I got out of the huge (but lonely) Malfoy Manor, I started to see how the world works, and the type of witches and wizards that roam in it. I started to understand the different types of respect one could earn. And sadly, I’ve already realized what is the type of respect the Malfoy name holds.

So of course, I had to live up to the expectations of being Lucius Malfoy’s first born. Besides, my family is all I have. I’d do anything to keep them close to me. Even if that’s pretending to be someone I’m not. Not anymore, at least. I’m not mean, or cruel, however I do let everyone know when I enter a room, I make sure I stand out everywhere I go, and I’ve earned the good kind of respect at school. And unlike the rest of my family, I earned all that with hard and honest work.

Yet there he was—Cedric Diggory. Messy, effortlessly brilliant, laughing as though nothing was ever anything more than a game. And I hated him. Not truly, of course—not like I hate the rules I must follow or the pressure that comes with wearing the Malfoy name. But I hated him with that peculiar kind of fury that stems only from someone who sees… too much.

I think there is nothing more infuriating than someone who smiles even when they lose. Once, back in First Year, during a joint Charms class, Cedric cast a spell the wrong way round—he made his own book float and ended up with ink all over his nose. Everyone laughed, even him. I did not.

Why laugh at a mistake? My world simply does not function like that. If you fail, you lose, and if you lose there is no reason at all to be laughing.

Over time, Cedric became one of Hogwarts’ most beloved students: cheered on by Hufflepuff as if he was some sort of hero, kind to anyone who needed help, excelling across every subject. Even Professor Flitwick looked at him with obvious pride. That was precisely what irked me the most—that he appeared so… real.

I, on the other hand, know how to pretend. I know exactly what tone to adopt to sound sharp. When to raise an eyebrow to unsettle, when to bite my tongue so no true thoughts slip out. I’ve mastered how to shine… without ever truly being seen.

But he looked at me as though he did see me—beyond the perfect Malfoy façade I’ve created. As though he didn’t quite buy it. And I cannot allow that.

Our rivalry began with a foolish prank on the Hogwarts Express during First Year. Along with the “Idiots” Weasley twins, Cedric somehow cast a spell into my compartment as I slept, covering me in ice frost and tiny wet crystals—face, body, hair. I looked ridiculous. And worst of all, when I awoke, the entire compartment was filled with curious onlookers staring as though I were part of some magical exhibit. I heard someone whisper: “It’s the Ice Lady, don’t let her freeze you with that look.” Confused and furious, I stormed off in search of a culprit—and though I could find no proof, I know it was Cedric. I saw him in the corridor with the Weasleys. He wasn’t laughing. He was smiling, a conspiratorial, satisfied grin.

That was worse than any kind of mockery.

Rumor had it the three of them had said:

“She’s going to freeze the whole train with that face. They should call her the Ice Lady.”

“What if we did—literally?”

So I earned the nickname “Ice Lady.” Some never forgot it. Including me. I harboured a deep grudge ever since. He’d been cunning, clean-handed, and had made me feel like a walking joke.

Not that I let it stand; I retaliated with a hex that left his face blotchy for weeks, and he responded with a charm that made flowers sprout in my hair for at least fifteen days. The pranks escalated, and Hogwarts became aware of our little war. Between jests, sarcastic asides, and murderous glances, Cedric and I rose to infamy as the school’s foremost rivals.

Yet I always felt he didn’t take it seriously. Like it was just a game to him. A source of amusement. And I despised that. Malfoys do not lose, and that was all I could think about.

By the middle of Third Year, during Potions class, he sabotaged my perfect potion—and, to his great misfortune, Professor Snape chose mine for demonstration. The potion exploded in his face, coating him in foul, slimy green goo. Professor McGonagall stepped in and promptly banned us from continuing our little war of pranks. My punishment? Two weeks polishing trophies after class.

A living nightmare. But at least it was over. I convinced myself I would no longer have to endure his nonsense. Sure, we would still trade barbs when necessary—but only when necessary. Hopefully, I won’t have to bear as many classes with Hufflepuff as I did last year, even if that means I won’t spend as much time with my friend Annie as we did before.

“Darcy? Hello?” Annie’s voice startled me.

“Oh—sorry. What happened?”

“Daisy was telling us about her summer painting. She asked whether you painted anything.”

“I’m sorry, I was… otherwise occupied. I didn’t get the chance. Father insisted I continue my violin lessons, you know I don’t care for it much, but it’s what they want for me, so…”

“I know, we understand,” Annie said with an earnest smile.

I’d first met Anastasia Granger in Diagon Alley with her parents. Mother had tasked me with buying our school supplies while she handled business at Gringotts. The Grangers looked utterly lost—they’re muggles, after all. An unlikely match for a Malfoy, I know. But something in me has always questioned that idea of “muggles are beneath us.” I helped Annie and her family collect their things. They turn out to be quite charming. My family doesn’t know, obviously, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep it hidden. My younger brother Draco is already in Second Year at Hogwarts, and he unthinkingly follows every instruction from our parents. That’s what makes us different. I question. I wonder if it’s right. And even though most of the time it’s not the right thing, I must disregard those thoughts. I must follow the rules and be a dignified Malfoy. Draco… he doesn’t think—he just obeys.

I met Daisy on our first night in the Great Hall. She carried a small notebook full of doodles: stars, moons, planets. It caught my eye, and I spoke to her. We became art-friends, and soon Annie joined us with her poems and stories. A genuine friendship, albeit unusual. How often does one see a Slytherin, a Ravenclaw, and a Hufflepuff getting along so well?

“Do you think last year’s drama at Hogwarts will happen again?” Daisy asked, curious. “You know… all that Harry Potter business?”

“I don’t think Dumbledore will allow it.”

“I hope not. My sister got very involved in that mess. She never told me—at least, not until everyone else knew… I worry she doesn’t trust me enough to confide anything similar again.” Annie sounded uneasy.

“Honestly, I’m glad the boy refused my brother’s friendship. Mother would have lost her mind if Draco got tangled up in that.” I shrugged.

“Still, he keeps talking about Potter.” Daisy shook her head, amused. She turned to Annie to share a summer anecdote. “While Darcy was packing for the trip, I waited in the lounge, and Malfoy Jr wouldn’t stop talking about how much he despises the boy.”

“He’s obsessed.” I rolled my eyes. “He says Potter’s a fraud, doesn’t deserve the attention, sticks his nose where it doesn’t belong… I think he’s kind of jealous. Which is absurd, he’s a Malfoy, he shouldn’t feel jealous of anyone.”

“And… What do you think of Harry?” Annie asked.

“I don’t know. I’m intrigued, I suppose,” I said dismissively. “Not because he’s famous, but because he’s… different. Special. According to the rumors, you know. But if he ever becomes a problem—either for me or for Draco—I won’t hesitate for a second to put him in his place.”

“As always… and with everyone,” Daisy teased with a laugh.

In the distance, the silhouette of Hogwarts came into view. I retrieved my uniform from my bag.

“I’ll pop off to change. Be back in a bit.”

My friends nodded. I left the compartment and headed toward the washroom, opening a chocolate frog I’d bought earlier. As I detached the collectible card, someone jostled into my shoulder, and the frog jumped free, launching itself down the corridor.

“My frog!” I exclaimed in annoyance—and instantly my headache began.

“It’s just a chocolate, Malfoy, don’t be so upset,” he said with that infuriating, playful smile.

“If you watched where you were going, Diggory, this wouldn’t happen. Doesn’t your enormous ego ever allow you to look where you’re walking?”

Cedric laughed, dropped a box into my hand. “Charming as ever. Here, have mine. Calm down.”

“How considerate. Next time you’ll send me a love letter with your apology?” I retorted, tossing the box back.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” he replied with a sly grin, then pocketed the box. “See you later, Ice Lady.”

I rolled my eyes and continued to the washroom. I put on my perfectly pressed uniform, tidied my hair, and returned to the corridor. On my way back to the compartment, I spotted my Slytherin pals.

“There you are, Darcy!” Kev called out.

“Here I am. Don’t cry for me, please,” I said sarcastically as I sat beside them.

“We missed you, blondie,” Louis said, ever-serious.

“Too much! Wish you were with us rather than your artsy friends,” Noor gushed, hugging me.

“Don’t be jealous, Noor. I’ll join you at the Feast. You know I love you, but my heart has to be mighty large to hold everyone. You wouldn’t understand… the popularity that comes with being a Malfoy.”

They all laughed, as they already knew I was joking. I shrugged with a smile.

As we approached the Great Hall, I couldn’t stop thinking about the food. At home, I’m not allowed to eat whatever I want—I must stay thin and refined. My diet is mostly salads, vegetables, seafood, and lemon water. Here, no such limits existed. If no one knew my situation at home, no one could judge me. But guilt would follow. Then nausea. And then… well. It’s not important right now.

Once inside the vast hall, I sat with my friends at the Slytherin table. Noor talked about her Egypt trip, Kev browsed the new Charms textbooks, and Louis complained about being cooped up all summer in his mansion in South Korea with his sister, Suni, while his mother attended to diplomatic duties for the magical community in Asia.

The Sorting Ceremony proceeded as usual, and the Feast was drawing to a close as Dumbledore made his announcements—wise, slightly eccentric remarks about the coming term. I half-listened, too preoccupied with the year ahead. Thoughts of Draco. My parents. My friendship with Annie. The image I’d have to uphold once again. So absorbed, I barely noticed when Dumbledore brought the feast to an end. My friends began rising to head to the dungeons. I followed, still lost in thought.

But as I stood, I heard a strange sound, a sudden tug… like fabric being pulled.

Before I knew what was happening, a considerable section of the Slytherin tablecloth came with me, causing me to trip between seat and table.

Remnants of the feast—chicken bones, half-eaten tarts, half-filled goblets, chunks of pumpkin—came crashing down upon me like a curse cast with perfect aim. Clattering cutlery, breaking dishes, flinging goblets. The entire Hall fell silent, watching.

I looked down at my shoes. It was one of those classic shoelace-tying spells—perfectly executed. I rose carefully—and there I stood, frozen, covered in the feast remains, my skirt half torn by the tablecloth’s tug, whipped cream staining my uniform and hair… and most of the Great Hall staring at me in stunned silence.

First reaction: shock.

Second: fury.

And the third, as always: scan. To see who laughed, who looked horrified, who averted their gaze. And who didn’t bother hiding their satisfaction.

Diggory.

From the lower end of our table, Cedric emerged alongside the Idiot Weasleys. He covered his mouth with his hand, his shoulders shaking, desperately trying not to laugh. But worse than the snort he suppressed, was when our eyes met… and he winked at me.

“This can’t be happening…” Draco breathed beside me, wide-eyed and horrified.

In that instant, something inside me shattered. Not just from being plastered in food, or the sheer embarrassment. But because Draco—my brother—had seen me break. Seen me… weak. Damn it, seen me lose.

“Are you all right?” Kev asked gently.

I didn’t respond. I started to walk away as if nothing had happened—still with a scrap of tart clinging to my shoulder. I strode among the tables, shoulders squared, expression composed—a Malfoy must never break. But inside…

I was boiling.

As I walked away, I heard Peeves cackling from high above:

“The Ice Lady’s got dessert on her derriere! Nope nope, wait… Long live the Meringue Lady!”

More laughter, more stares. Perfect. Let them watch, let them remember. Because when winter comes again, it will bring no snow.

It will bring a storm.

Chapter Text

15 September, 1992

East Wing Corridor, near the Charms classroom

Darcy’s POV

I was supposed to meet Annie and Daisy in the library before dinner, to spend some time together, work on our art and talk about the boys they’ve been crushing over lately. I mostly just listened, of course. Right now, I had no intention of getting involved in that whole world of fluttery stomachs, secret notes and clammy hands. I was nearly there when I saw him, standing right in my path. Diggory, leaning casually against a stone column, surrounded by his usual group of fourth- and even some fifth-years. Smiling like always—as though life didn’t have sharp edges. As though nothing ever touched him, not really at least.

“… and then I told him it wasn’t Aparecium, it was Accio! He nearly vanished his own cat!” he was saying, as everyone burst into laughter around him.

I rolled my eyes and let out a quiet scoff. I walked past without so much as a glance, pretending not to have heard. But then…

“Malfoy,” he called, in that voice he used when he wanted to be irritating without being openly offensive. “Pumpkin leftovers really suit you. Match the tone of your arrogance perfectly.”

His friends laughed, and I stopped in my tracks. Slowly, I turned back towards him, and the laughter died down.

“Diggory,” I said with the icy smile I reserved only for him. “Funny. I thought after your little potions disaster you’d have learnt to keep that big mouth of yours shut. But no, for some reason you still think you’re charming.”

“And you still think a surname is worth more than a personality” he replied with a soft grin, never losing his composure. That was his most annoying talent. He never seemed affected. Always so bloody… composed.

“Being unforgettable is enough for me,” I stepped closer. “And believe me, when someone gets crushed, they leave quite a mark.”

Cedric narrowed his eyes, amused and a bit curious.

“Is that a threat, Malfoy?”

“No. It’s a promise.”

Without giving him the chance to respond, I turned on my heel and walked away. I could hear him chuckle softly behind me, which only added fuel to the fire already burning in my chest. I spotted Daisy and Annie near the entrance to the library, and as I got close enough to hear them, Daisy spoke up.

“Everything all right?”

“Cedric still thinks the school is his private garden,” I muttered. “Tomorrow, we’re uprooting the flowers.”

“What?” said Annie, alarmed, as we entered the library. “You’re not going to start the prank war again, are you?”

“You know me, Annie. I can’t just sit back and let everyone watch him humiliate me again. I already have a plan, I just need to finalise it.”

“But McGonagall—”

“McGonagall won’t know a thing. This time, my revenge will be invisible to any professor. I won’t get caught. I can’t afford it.”

“What are you going to do?” Daisy asked nervously as we sat at one of the tables.

“You’ll see. Just know—it’ll be unforgettable.”

(…)

The problem with being the Ice Queen is that everyone thinks you don’t feel anything, but that’s a lie. Of course I feel, I just keep it in, and I… freeze it. And when the moment’s right, I let it fall like an avalanche.

The first days of term, the whole of Hogwarts laughed behind my back. Whispered chuckles, not-so-subtle glances, snide remarks muttered just low enough for plausible deniability. Days where I pretended not to care. Pretended I wasn’t the punchline of the year’s most humiliating spectacle. But every laugh stoked the fire within me.

And now, at last, it was time to light the match.

Between classes, meals and spare moments with my friends, I brainstormed the perfect prank. Diggory deserved something public, and thoroughly embarrassing—just as he’d done to me. And it couldn’t be anything crude. It had to be elegant, and clever. Worthy of a Malfoy. I never found out whether Professor McGonagall said anything about the Great Hall incident, though if she had, I’m certain I’d have heard about it.

“So?” said Kev, lounging on the sofa in the common room, twirling his wand between his fingers. “Are we doing this or not?”

“Oh, we’re doing it,” I replied, not lifting my eyes from the parchment where I was outlining every detail. “Cedric Diggory has picked the wrong fight. Again.”

Louis leaned over my shoulder to peer at the plan. “Are you sure this won’t get us into trouble? I mean, you’ve got an expansion charm written here… and this.”

“Persistent odour—minimum forty-eight hours?” I read aloud.

“Louis, honestly. Don’t be such a coward,” Noor said, painting her nails with a charm for instant drying. “Cedric humiliated Darcy in front of the whole school. Even her brother. The least we can do is return the favour—with tax.”

I smiled. Noor always spoke my language: an emotional and strategic vengeance was perfect. Just what Diggory wouldn’t expect because McGonagall had officially banned our ‘prank war’.

“Then it’s settled,” I said at last, holding up the parchment and admiring my masterpiece. “This won’t be just revenge. This will be… art.”

“So dramatic,” Kev said with a grin, his eyes lingering a bit too long.

“Part of my charm,” I replied, crossing my legs on the sofa and giving him a playful wink.

We were tucked into one of the quieter corners of the Slytherin common room. Noor continued on her nails, Louis was leafing through a book of advanced charms—making sure nothing magical was going to explode in our faces—and Kev was there purely for the chaos. As usual.

“What if Diggory retaliates?” Louis asked, not looking up from his book.

“Then the war begins again, officially,” I said calmly, shrugging. “But this time, I’ll have the upper hand.”

“What about Draco?” Noor asked seriously. “He was furious last year when you got detention for pranking Cedric. Don’t you think he’ll tell your parents?”

I sighed.

“Draco’s got his own drama to worry about. He’s trying to get on the Quidditch team and begging Father to buy new brooms for the whole squad. Thinks it’ll secure him a place. And besides, he’s busy obsessing over Potter.”

“Does it bother you?” Kev asked quietly.

I hesitated. The truth? Yes. Draco, for all his arrogance and snobbery, is still my little brother. And now… he’s starting to become Lucius Malfoy Jr., with all the charming qualities that implies. I wish I could tell him not to follow our parents’ every word, but he wouldn’t listen, not anymore. It’s already too late for that.

“It’s just hard to watch him become another of my parents’ puppets,” I said finally. “They expect so much of him, and I don’t think he even realises it. But he’ll do what they say. He’s always done it and always will”

“You’re not like that,” Noor said firmly.

I smiled, but didn’t reply. Because sometimes… I feared I was. Just with a bit more resistance. I stood up, using the change of pace as an excuse.

“I’m going to talk to Draco before bed. Just to make sure everything’s all right.”

They nodded, and just as I was turning to go, someone caught my hand.

“I… um,” Kev stammered, brushing a hand through his hair.

“What?” I asked, laughing lightly.

“I just… well, if you need help practising the spell or anything for Diggory… you can count on me. I’m not that tired.”

“Of course, Kev,” I said coolly. “As long as you stop being so awkward.”

“I… yeah, sorry.” We both laughed. “Noor and Louis are going to bed, so I’ll just wait here.”

“Perfect. I’ll be back in a bit, then.”

“I’ll be here.”

That was… odd.

I hadn’t seen Draco enter the common room, so I assumed he was still wandering the corridors with his goons. Didn’t take me long to find him, since he was sitting on the cold stone floor just outside our common room, flipping through his Transfiguration textbook.

“You alone?” I asked, approaching. He nodded, and I sat beside him.

“For now. Crabbe and Goyle went to the kitchens, I think. Someone said the house-elves hand out cake if you ask nicely.”

“Just like Dobby. Legitimately tempting.”

I chuckled, and we sat in silence for a while. Draco flicked through his book without much interest.

“I never asked… does it bother you? What happened at the feast?” he said suddenly. Took me off guard, honestly.

“You mean being covered in leftovers and whipped cream in front of half the school?” I said, trying to lighten the mood. He didn’t respond, he just closed his book and looked down. I sighed. “Of course it bothers me, Draco. I’m not a statue, even if Mother and Father have trained me to look like one. But don’t worry—I’ll deal with Diggory.”

“You’re going to prank him, aren’t you?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Since when do you care about pranks?”

“Since you’re my sister. If McGonagall finds out, we’ll be scrubbing trophies till summer.”

“Only if they find out it was me,” I said with a smirk. He smiled too, though a bit nervously.

“Sometimes you scare me, Darcy.”

“And you scare me, when you parrot everything Mum and Dad say without thinking. So we’re even.”

He laughed softly, and for a moment, he was just my brother. Not a Malfoy in training. Just Draco—the little boy I taught to fly before he could read. “Sleep well, yeah?”

I stood up, and as I walked away, I heard him mumble something.

“Don’t ruin your life over a prank.”

Back in the common room, I looked around for Kev. He was still there, wand in hand and scribbling notes onto a bit of parchment.

“It’s nice having sixth-year friends, isn’t it?” I teased, sitting across from him. He nodded. “As brilliant as my plan is, I’m not sure how much longer it would’ve taken me to learn those spells on my own.”

“You know I would’ve helped… I mean, all of us.”

“I know, Kev. But it was easier getting help from someone already familiar with them. And you know Rory’s the best in Charms. She’s always been a huge help, and I suspect I’ll need her more often this year.”

“Oh, Darcy. Always so good at… using people.”

“Hey!” I laughed. “Don’t judge me. You do it too—so shush.” I put a finger to my lips playfully. “Now let’s keep practising.”

“Whatever you say, Miss Malfoy,” he replied with a mock bow.

We practised wand movements a bit longer, but sleep crept in eventually. I bid Kev goodnight, changed into my silk pyjamas and climbed into bed—already giddy about what awaited Diggory in the morning.

(…)

The morning sun shone through the enchanted windows of the Great Hall, casting soft light over the breakfast tables. Everything looked calm. Serene. Perfect for a flawless act of revenge.

I’d already finished breakfast; a slice of toast with jam, some pumpkin juice, and the sweet taste of anticipation. Kev and Louis were in position by the Hall’s entrance, and Noor was beside me. She’d roped in a Hufflepuff boy hopelessly in love with her to help with a crucial part of the plan: the distraction.

“Ready?” Noor murmured, pretending to search for a slice of tart on the table.

I gave the faintest of nods and slipped my wand from the folds of my robe. Eyes locked on Cedric—smiling, of course—chatting away and spooning porridge into his mouth. Such a shame that smile wouldn’t last. Noor made the signal to the boy, so he stood up, book in hand, faking terrible nerves, and tripped just as he passed Cedric.

“Ouch! My foot!” the boy cried from the floor.

Naturally, Cedric, ever the Golden Boy of Hufflepuff, stood up at once to help him. All eyes turned to the little commotion. The perfect distraction. Noor elbowed me.

“Darcy, now.”

I moved. Three spells, nothing more. Executed silently, flawlessly.

“Engorgio. Odorus. Colorus.”

When Cedric returned to his seat, his bowl had doubled in size, and the porridge exploded like a boiling cauldron, splattering him with thick, sticky mush… which now stank of rotten eggs and damp socks.

But that wasn’t all. Oh no.

As he sat down, his robes changed colour into a brilliant shade of pink, covered in tiny, animated birds that chirped whenever someone said his name.

“Cedric!” someone called, laughing.

The birds burst into song in shrill unison:

“Diggory, Diggory, don’t you look fine!

With your rosy robe and your birdy design!”

Hufflepuff’s table erupted in laughter. Gryffindor applauded. Even some Ravenclaws cracked up. Cedric froze. His eyes scanned the hall and landed on me. I took a sip of pumpkin juice and smiled calmly. A slow, subtle wink, just like the one he’d given me.

He marched towards the Slytherin table, his singing robes trailing behind.

“This was a declaration of war,” he said, low and deadly.

“I thought we were already at war, Cedric Diggory,” I said slowly, deliberately, triggering the birds once more.

He snorted, clearly both irritated and a bit amused. He turned and walked away with as much dignity as he could muster—though the birds betrayed him with every step.

“Diggory, Diggory, in pastel pink!

The carousel star, don’t you think?”

McGonagall eventually put a stop to the chaos and made him change robes—but the smell? That lingered for two whole days. Two days of Cedric Diggory reeking of damp boots and fermented cheese. Two days of him glaring at me whenever we crossed paths—with a look equal parts fury and… amusement?

Yes, maybe he was starting to enjoy it. Again.

I wasn’t.

I was winning.

And for now, that was all that mattered.

Chapter Text

2 October, 1992.

Hufflepuff Common Room.

Cedric’s POV

Being Hogwarts’ golden boy sounds like an honour. In reality, it’s a sticky label—one you can never quite peel off. You help first-years, you smile in the corridors, you get good grades. The professors congratulate you, your parents brag about you, and your little sister believes you could make the castle levitate if you truly wanted. And honestly, I think there’s a very clear distinction between having a good reputation and having control over your life.

I have the first thing.

And honestly, I never really asked or did anything on purpose to get the reputation I have now, it just kind of… happened. And that doesn’t mean I’m not bothered by the way some people look at me; as if I couldn’t possibly make a mistake, as if being kind and “decent” is all I’m made of. As if I couldn’t have bad days, or feel things that don’t quite fit that image.

Like my quiet resentment towards Darcy Malfoy.

We’ve been… something, since first year. Rivals, probably. Though I’ve never truly hated her. She’s brilliant, calculating and cold, but behind all that, I know there’s something more, a fire just waiting to erupt, because I believe no one could ever just be so cold and composed without it being a cover up for something else, and she’s not mean. If she was, I’d probably believe it.  Anyways, she’s always intrigued me, and maybe that’s why I started it all. The first prank, with the help of the Weasleys. It was foolish, but her reaction revealed something: she felt. Her ego was wounded, and if she struck back, it was because she felt something strong enough to make her do it. And that made her… real to me. Of course, I didn’t expect her to declare war in return—first upon our arrival at Hogwarts, and then again this year.

There’s just something about her that won’t let me leave her alone.

I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like she was made to challenge me. Not with shouting or spells (though she’s used both), but with that look… those cold, calculated smiles. As if I were some private joke to her, and as if she knew something I didn’t.

“Still nursing your wounded ego, Ced?”

My friend Suni’s smile makes it impossible to tell whether she’s mocking or comforting me.

We’re sitting on a set of cosy armchairs by the fireplace in our common room. I’d been reading a book on Quidditch tactics before she dropped that comment. Isaak, sat beside her, lets out a soft laugh and glances over at me.

“Admit it, it was a brilliant prank. Flawlessly executed,” he says, laughing aloud. “Still sulking, even after all these days?”

“Sulking? No. I’m eternally humiliated, thanks for asking.”

“Oh, come on, it was a bit incredible. Admit it,” says Suni with a teasing laugh. “I still hear a few Ravenclaw girls humming Pink Pastel Diggory in the corridors.”

I roll my eyes, letting a chuckle escape. I couldn’t stay annoyed with them. They were my escape—the most loyal people I’ve ever known. Our bond was immediate. And they’d both perfected the art of teasing me without actually offending me.

“I’m going to get her back,” I say seriously, eyes fixed on the crackling fire.

“Uh-huh,” Isaak hums. “Because you’re so terrifying. How exactly are you going to top that, Ced? Read her a tragic poem until she weeps?”

“Or give her a chocolate frog with a passive-aggressive message inside,” adds Suni, putting on a dramatic voice. “But seriously, Ced—you know Darcy’s not done with you. Don’t you think it’s time you struck back properly?”

“You mean, plan a real prank?”

“Exactly. Poetic revenge. With style.”

That’s the thing about Suni. She can be just as chaotic as Isaak, but she’s got a strategy. And, being Louis Dankworth’s sister—yes, the Louis who’s one of Darcy’s close friends—she might just feed me intel about the enemy camp without explicitly saying so. Their sibling relationship is… odd. They barely speak. But it makes sense, I suppose. Slytherin and Hufflepuff: two very different breeds. And while Suni’s never confirmed it, we all suspect there’s some sort of mutual non-aggression pact. Something like “I won’t mess with you if you don’t use what you know against me.” Seems fair.

“We’ve got Care of Magical Creatures with the snakes tomorrow, right?” They both nod. “I’ll do it then.”

“Seriously?” says Isaak, sitting up straighter. “You’re going to start the Third Wizarding War—with magical beasts as witnesses?”

“I think it’s perfect. Shall we scheme?” asks Suni, eyes glinting.

“Absolutely.” I get up to grab a roll of parchment and some spellbooks, and when I return to my seat, I glance at her with a grin. “That’s why you’re my favourite.”

As Suni and I opened the first book, we saw how Isaak stood up and waved his hand at someone.

“Granger! Over here!” He said, then sat down to wait on her.

“What do you think you’re doing? She’s friends with Darcy!” Suni looked at him as if he was crazy. I just closed the books and tried to look natural.

“Relax, Dankworth. She’s my friend as well, and she happens to be my potions partner,” Isaak says as he emptied his bag, looking for something. He ended up grabbing a couple of scrolls filled with words. When Annie Granger was close enough, he handed the scrolls over, with a huge smile on his face. “Here you go, Anns. Hopefully my writing skills have improved since our last assignment together, and if not, feel free to make any corrections.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Isaak,” she says, laughing a little bit and looking over at me. “Hi there Cedric, Suni.”

“Hi Annie.” I smiled at her, trying to cover up the books on our table. 

“Well, I guess I’ll just go and finish up my part. See you later, Isaak.”

And as she walked away towards her dormitory, Suni and I both noticed how our friend couldn’t take his eyes off of Granger. 

“You totally like her,” said Suni with a mischievous smile on her face. “Poor, little, dumb Isaak is in love with the smartest girl on Hufflepuff.”

“Shut up. I’m not in love with her.”

“Oh c’mon, your smile when she’s near you is as big as a Hungarian Horntail.” I followed Suni’s game. We both laughed as Isaak’s face grew red. 

“Alright, stop it. Those spells aren’t going to find themselves”. 

(…)

Ravenclaw and Gryffindor had the creatures class before us, so they already knew what to expect. Thanks to one of Suni’s friends, we got the exact information we needed—what creatures we’d be studying. From there, we scoured every book we could find. All in a single day. Exhausting, but worth it.

I was preparing to go to bed when my sister entered the common room. The moment she spotted me, her face lit up and she marched over for a hug.

“There you are, Chiara.”

My little sister adores Hogwarts. When she got her letter two years ago, she didn’t stop asking me questions until the train departed. Since then, we’ve had this unspoken routine: every night, she finds me and tells me about her day. I smiled and pulled her into a tight hug. Her brown curls were still glittering with what looked like magical glue, and her robes were on backwards, but her face shone the moment she saw me. Then her smile faded.

“What’s wrong?”

“Is it true that you and Draco Malfoy’s sister hate each other?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Then laughed tiredly.

“Darcy? Er… I don’t hate her, Chi. We just… don’t get along. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“She helped me today.”

I froze. “She did?”

“Well… I hate the Potions class, you know that. I was the only one who couldn’t get the last assignment right. And Professor Snape wouldn’t let me move on until I finished it. And there was a moment where I just couldn’t hold it in anymore—I ran to the loo with my face covered in tears. I was so embarrassed.” She dropped her gaze, and my heart twisted. “But she was in there, looking at herself in the mirror. And when she saw me like that… she came over and asked what was wrong. I told her through sobs… I don’t know how she understood what I was trying to say, but when she did, she helped me.”

“She did?” I repeated, in disbelief. 

“She calmed me down first. Then explained the potion I was trying to make. Gave me some really great advice, but she said it had to be a secret.” She giggled. “She was really kind. I liked her. But then Ron told me you two hate each other or something.”

I stayed silent. This confirmed something I’d suspected for a while. That image Darcy’s crafted of herself—as a proud, untouchable Malfoy—is just a shell.

“You played a nasty prank on her, didn’t you?”

I sighed.

“Yeah. Might’ve been a little cruel.”

“Why don’t you just talk it out like normal people?”

“It doesn’t work like that, Chi. Sometimes people just… clash.”

“I don’t know. I’ve seen the way you look at her, and you look at her funny, just like how you look at new brooms in the shop… like you want them, but you’re trying to look serious about it.”

“Chiara!” I blinked, startled. “Stop that, you’re far too… observant.”

She laughed and ran off to her dormitory, leaving me alone, still thinking about what she’d said.

Maybe the cold, heartless persona was never real. Or maybe… it’s starting to fall apart. You just have to pay attention to see it.

(…)

The creatures we’d be studying in today’s class were very young fire-plume pufflets; according to the books we’d consulted, they were small reddish featherballs that reacted to strong emotions. They emitted sparks—or, if provoked, exploded in a cloud of incandescent feathers that stuck to whatever they considered a threat, as a way of warning the rest of their group. Just the sort of creature I needed for my revenge. We’d looked into several options to heighten Darcy’s emotions: potions were a possibility, but Suni found a spell that imbues an object with a temporary emotional aura. It felt like fate.

That morning, the clearing in the woods smelled of damp grass… and a bit of smoke, thanks to the cages of pufflets that had just been set down before us. I looked at Suni and Isaak with a knowing expression, then turned to face Darcy. There she was, utterly composed and irritatingly radiant, as always. Her robes were perfectly pressed, her long blonde hair flowing down her back in a cascade and neatly tucked behind her ears. How could someone radiate such elegance and still be such a pain?

“Right, everyone,” said Professor Kettleburn cheerfully as he started the lesson. “Today we’re meeting a curious, playful, and theoretically harmless creature. I present to you the fire-plume pufflet!”

As he explained what I’d already learnt the previous day, the cages were opened and out floated those little reddish-orange puffballs, with tiny eyes and round, spark-spitting bodies. One flitted through the air and landed on a Slytherin girl’s head, letting out a joyful spark.

“It’s adorable!”

“It’s explosive,” Isaak murmured beside me. “I like it.”

Suni leaned a little closer to me, her eyes gleaming. “You ready?”

I nodded, slipping my wand discreetly from my robes. Malfoy stood across the group, surrounded by her friends, murmuring quietly while the professor continued his lecture, clearly bored and uninterested. I aimed subtly and whispered the incantation.

“Afflictus Sentio Pavor.” A soft, barely visible shimmer enveloped the back of her robes. Done.

Kettleburn instructed us to form small groups to examine the pufflets. As I gathered my team, I kept one eye on Malfoy. At any moment now, my revenge would take shape, and I wasn’t about to miss it.

“Remember!” Kettleburn called. “The pufflets respond to your feelings. Don’t be afraid or aggressive. If you are, you’ll be coughing feathers for weeks.” He approached Darcy’s group. Perfect. “Miss Malfoy, go on. I’d like all of you to handle one. Observe and feel the texture of the feathers. Come now, don’t be shy! Direct contact is essential for learning!”

Darcy rolled her eyes—clearly this wasn’t her favourite class—but she always managed to show off a bit during demonstrations and seemed fairly knowledgeable about magical creatures. Casually, she reached for the nearest pufflet and cupped it in her hands.

The effect was immediate.

The moment the pufflet came into contact with her, the little creature let out a shrill, high-pitched squeal as though it had spotted a miniature—and blonde—basilisk.

And then… BOOM!

An explosion of flaming feathers burst out in every direction, erupting like a magical geyser. But the feathers didn’t scatter. No; they launched themselves straight at Darcy like a swarm of magical bees. Within seconds, her robes, hair, and even her face were entirely engulfed in layers upon layers of gleaming red feathers, as though a phoenix had sneezed on her. She screamed something unintelligible, flailing uselessly. Every time she tried to shake the feathers off, they sparked and reattached with renewed vigour.

Isaak and several others burst out laughing, some doubling over from the force of it.

“Magnificent,” Suni said, folding her arms with a satisfied smirk.

The rest of the class didn’t seem to know whether to laugh or to help her. And I, wearing the smug smile of someone who had triumphed, declared the prank an absolute success.

Until it wasn’t.

“WHO DID THIS?!” Darcy shouted, eyes blazing beneath a feathery veil. Literally.

And as if the universe had a sense of humour, in that precise moment…

“Mr Diggory,” came McGonagall’s firm voice from behind me, “would you care to explain why Miss Malfoy appears to have been attacked by a horde of amorous pufflets, and why you are the only student with a wand out during a class that clearly does not require one?”

I looked at Suni, then Isaak. Both had gone deadly still, faces etched with panic. There was no way I would drag them into this. So I calmly tucked away my wand and turned slowly to face the professor.

“Perhaps the pufflet detected… heightened emotions. You know how sensitive they can be.”

“Heightened emotions, Mr Diggory? The sort that involve a minor sensory manipulation charm?”

Frozen. Caught. Condemned.

Darcy stared at me, furious and ridiculous, feathers trembling with each aggravated breath.

“Miss Malfoy, remove your robes,” McGonagall instructed. Darcy obeyed at once, dropping the robe to the ground. The feathers abandoned her immediately, revealing her uniform untouched beneath and a murderous glare aimed in my direction. “The two of you seem determined to turn this school into a circus. Very well. If it’s adventure you want, adventure you shall have.’

“W-what do you mean, Professor?” Darcy asked, alarmed.

“The staff are tired of this childish war. If you’re not going to find maturity on your own, perhaps you’ll find it in the Forbidden Forest.”

“WHAT?!” we shouted in unison, sharing a horrified glance.

“Two weeks. Together. You will assist Hagrid with certain duties in the forest. I expect you in my office tomorrow after your final lesson to receive the full details. Perhaps there, you’ll have time to reflect on your actions.”

Darcy gave a dry, humourless laugh.

“Oh no, Professor. You can’t be serious.”

“Believe me, Miss Malfoy. I’m at my most serious this month.” She turned to Professor Kettleburn. “My apologies for interrupting your lesson. I simply couldn’t walk past and let them continue unchecked.”

As she strode away, Darcy and I looked at one another.

Fantastic.

With that look, I knew our little rivalry had just become a hundred times more serious. She’s going to kill me in that forest, and no one will ever find the body.

This had definitely spiralled out of control.

(…)

A star-strewn sky shimmered above the tables in the Great Hall. The scent of freshly prepared food filled the air, and my stomach growled in desperation for something to recover after such a dreadful day. As the evening went on, I managed to forget, if only for a little while, what had happened that morning. I’d spent the whole day with a horrible mix of guilt and embarrassment churning in my gut. Any prank Darcy might have pulled on me would have been better than being publicly sentenced by Professor McGonagall in front of my classmates—and the entire Slytherin group.

For the first time, I began to truly question why I’d started all this. It didn’t exactly fit the picture-perfect image of Hufflepuff’s golden boy.

“… and so I can’t get bad grades this term. If I do, my mum swore she’ll make my broom disappear, and I won’t be able to play in the Quidditch Cup this year,” Suni was saying, stirring her soup with an air of desperation. “But I’ve got a good feeling this time. I think we can actually win.”

“You said the same last year… and the year before that,” Isaak said with a smirk, tilting his head.

Suni shot him a glare. “The point is, I’m going to need extra help this term. I don’t even know why I bother telling you anything, all you do is mock me.” She looked thoroughly exasperated, which wasn’t uncommon when Isaak was involved—he rarely took anything seriously. “Ced, you’ve got to find a way out of that punishment. You can’t miss the first training.”

“I’d only make McGonagall angrier. Not a great plan, Suni. I’m sorry I won’t be there, but as soon as I escape from this torture, I’ll catch up and train day and night. Promise.”

Suni narrowed her eyes at me. “Fine. But if you let us down, I swear I’ll snap your broomstick in half.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” I said, laughing a little. She was joking. Probably.

After dinner, I rose with my friends to head back to the common room. Just as we were leaving the Great Hall, I felt a sudden tug on my robes. I turned, puzzled.

“Diggory. We need to talk,” said Malfoy, with that signature arrogant tone and frosty glare.

I blinked at her. Suni and Isaak had identical looks of surprise on their faces.

“I’ll meet you in the common room. Won’t be long,” I told them. They nodded and walked off, leaving me to face Darcy. She let go of my robes, and I stood in front of her, arms crossed, with the smile I always wore around her—the one I was quite sure she despised. “What’s the matter, Malfoy?”

“I need you to speak with McGonagall,” she said flatly.

I gave a dry chuckle, not moving an inch. “Sorry, what?”

“You heard me. This punishment is ridiculous. You can’t deny you’re more to blame than I am,” she said, folding her arms in that haughty way of hers. “I only retaliated.”

“Retaliated? That’s what you call it? Retaliation? That’s all?” I raised a brow, incredulous. “For Merlin’s sake, Malfoy, you exploded a massive bowl of rotten porridge in my face during breakfast—in front of half the school. It was a chemical attack. Against me. I don’t need to remind you the smell lingered for days.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“You deserved it.”

‘And you deserved that pufflet,” I shot back with a half-smile.

We fell silent for a few seconds. We were face to face, but nowhere near an agreement. She was clearly upset—but not in the way I’d expected. She wasn’t shouting, she didn’t shove me, she didn’t curse me. She just… stared, with something simmering beneath the surface. Frustration, or maybe something else.

“Diggory, listen. I really don’t want to spend two weeks with you in the Forbidden Forest. There are creatures. Mud. And worst of all… you’ll be there.”

“Such a charming compliment. Thank you, Malfoy,” I said with a dose of sarcasm. “What makes you think I want that? Quidditch training starts tomorrow. I’ll be missing the most important one because of all this.”

She said nothing. Of course. It didn’t matter to her in the slightest. She just kept looking at me expectantly.

“I’m not speaking to McGonagall. You’re just as responsible as I am, Malfoy. Like it or not, this is a draw,” I said, shrugging. She pressed her lips together and her face shifted to something like disbelief, as though she wasn’t used to people telling her “no.” I imagined that was common in the Malfoy household. Still, she didn’t give up. She stepped closer.

“You could make something up. Say they mistook me. That you didn’t see who it was, but you just wanted to get back at someone—anyone—but it wasn’t me.”

“You want me to lie? That’s not something I do. Especially not for you.”

“You’re such an unbearable Hufflepuff,” she muttered, clearly frustrated, and turned on her heel.

“And you’re a predictable Slytherin,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

She halted. For a second, I thought she’d whirl around and punch me in the nose. But she didn’t. She simply turned her head just enough so our eyes met again.

“Then I’ll see you in the forest, Diggory. Try not to die.”

“You first, Malfoy.”

Chapter Text

3 October, 1992.

Slytherin Common Room.

Darcy’s POV

The Slytherin common room is silent, lit only by the greenish glow of the lake. Louis is asleep in an armchair, a book lying open on his chest. Noor is on the floor, her back against the sofa, sharpening her quill with unnecessary precision.

“Will you get your revenge this week?” she asks without looking up.

“No.” I’m surprised by how firm my voice sounds.

“No? Have you turned pacifist and soft? Or has the golden boy from Hufflepuff finally charmed you?”

“That’s not funny,” I say, though we both know it is. Noor watches me—she knows me far too well.

“You’ll have to endure him tomorrow. A whole night together in the forest. Are you ready for that without the overwhelming urge to strangle him?”

I let out a half-hearted chuckle, and I didn't answer. The truth is, I don’t know if I’m more upset about the prank or about the fact that he… always leaves me thinking.

Cedric Diggory isn’t what he seems. He’s not the good boy everyone thinks he is; if he were, he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to learn spells and design pranks just to get under my skin, knowing full well he could get into trouble. There’s something else about him, something he hides behind that perfect smile and natural confidence, and it bothers me. The curiosity he stirs in me is maddening; I want to know what’s really behind it, and whether we’re truly as different as we pretend to be.

But that’s far too sentimental a thought for a Malfoy. If you have an enemy, you shouldn’t go around justifying their actions. You shouldn’t be interested in their insignificant life. You simply have to crush them, because surely that’s what he’s trying to do to me.

“I’m off to bed. Tomorrow’s going to be eternal,” I say, standing and heading to the dormitory. I lock myself in the bathroom, light the furthest candle, and stare into the mirror.

I spot a magical feather still stuck to my neck. I rip it off in anger, and it doesn’t hurt physically, but… it does hurt. I think about what my mother would say if she knew what’s been going on these past weeks, and now, what Draco will think if he finds out I’ve been punished… with a Hufflepuff.

A Malfoy, publicly punished. With witnesses.

Knowing my eleven-year-old brother—Malfoy through and through—he wouldn’t think it was just a mistake. He’d call it a betrayal. That’s how dramatic our parents have raised us to be, and despite our relationship, I know he wouldn’t hesitate to write a letter to our mother detailing everything that’s happened.

Back in the dormitory, I open the hidden drawer in my trunk and pull out my secret notebook. I first opened it last year, when the words I couldn’t say started choking me. I don’t fill it with soppy nonsense like any other girl my age; I fill it with rage, with questions, with real words. With what it’s meant to be a Malfoy.

“I’m so tired of pretending I don’t care. I hate him. Not him. Or yes. I don’t know. It bothers me that he doesn’t take anything seriously—or that he takes everything seriously, except when it involves me. It bothers me that he mocks, that he doesn’t understand what it means to carry a name like this. I don’t want to keep being the Ice Lady. But I don’t know who I am here without that title. Sometimes I worry that he knows, and that frightens me. More than the punishment. More than whatever’s waiting for us in the forest.”

I close the journal and let out a long sigh.

I am not weak, not tomorrow, and not in front of him.

(…)

Arithmancy was the last class of the day, and I took it with Annie. It couldn’t have been more boring, and if it had been up to me, I would’ve chosen Divination, but like everything else in my life, my parents made the correct decision for me.

My mind was foggy. My mood, drowsy. The only thing keeping me going was the fact that tomorrow we’d finally visit Hogsmeade. And while I wouldn’t get to spend the whole day there, it would be nice to enjoy some time with my friends, carefree.

“You sure you’re alright?” Annie asked as we packed our books. I sighed.

“Yes, don’t worry,” I replied, avoiding her gaze.

“Darcy… you know you can be honest with me. I won’t judge,” she said as we started walking out. “You don’t have to act cold and calculating with me. You know I see right through the image you’ve built so well.”

I pursed my lips. She was right. Annie is the most sincere, loyal, and attentive person I know, and she’s been like that since the moment our paths crossed. At first, I really struggled to befriend her—her being Muggle-born and me, a Malfoy. I truly tried to keep my distance, knowing her friendship could get me into trouble someday, but we kept bumping into each other in the corridors and always got paired in class. It became impossible to avoid.

Annie inspires trust, calmness, and wisdom, everything I needed for balance. And me, being her complete opposite, gave her balance too. It wasn’t like the friendships I had with my Slytherin mates; it was unique, and I genuinely treasured it. Which terrified me, now that Draco was roaming these same hallways. Last year I managed to keep my friendship with Annie a secret, however it’s just a matter of time before he spots us together at the library or in a corridor, and he knows damn well who Annie is; he made sure to tell our father everything about Harry Potter’s muggle-born friend, and her sister. I’m quite worried about what will happen when Draco finds out about our friendship, because I know he will. But honestly, I don’t want to deal with that as for now. 

“I feel completely humiliated. I wish I could just vanish,” I muttered, linking my arm through hers. “And Diggory… that stupid golden boy seems perfect, but I know he’s not. No one is. I try to be perfect, and maybe I am, a little, but at what cost? You know that under all this, I’m going mad from trying to meet expectations and having no real control over my life. And I… I refuse to believe he can be the perfect boy, the perfect student, without a single issue. It’s simply impossible—and it infuriates me not knowing what he’s hiding, or if he’s hiding anything at all. Maybe he is perfect. Do you know what I mean?”

Annie laughed. “Yes. I get it.”

“I don’t know. I wish he’d never crossed my path, so I wouldn’t have this uncontrollable curiosity about his life. It’s… insufferable.”

“Look on the bright side, you’ll have plenty of time to find out during detention,” she said playfully. I squinted at her. “I’m joking. You know I’m joking.”

Even if she wasn’t, I’d undoubtedly learn a few secrets about the most perfect Hufflepuff boy at Hogwarts over the next two weeks.

I said goodbye to Annie when we reached Professor McGonagall’s office, promising to tell her everything about the punishment when I saw her again. I opened the door slowly, the scent of black tea, ancient parchment and camphor filling my nose. Cedric was already there, seated in front of her polished black wooden desk, toying with a rubber Snitch while McGonagall scribbled something on a piece of parchment.

“Good afternoon, Professor,” I said firmly, closing the door behind me. I stood straight, waiting for her to address me.

“Miss Malfoy, have a seat,” she said, glancing up briefly.

I sat down silently beside Cedric, composed and poised as always. I glanced at the Hufflepuff boy, and after a few seconds, he met my eyes with a lopsided grin. Unbearable. I returned it with a completely false smile and turned away, scanning the office. As I examined the shelves full of old books and quill collections, someone else entered. A slim, tall, pale boy. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and his blue eyes looked at both of us.

“Mr Howard. Thank you for coming,” said the Professor, looking up and clasping her hands on the desk. “Right then. You two. This is Mr Nathaniel Howard, a magizoologist and apprentice of Newt Scamander—I’m sure you’ve heard of him. A few months ago, several creatures escaped from his case, and with Mr Scamander’s help, we tracked them to the Forbidden Forest. It seems something is attracting them, something we don’t yet understand, and it’s changing them. Your task is to assist Mr Howard and Hagrid in retrieving as many creatures as possible. Together. As a team. Hopefully, that will put an end to the rivalry you’ve both been nurturing for years.”

I let out a sarcastic huff and shook my head slightly. I couldn’t help it.

“Is there a problem, Miss Malfoy?” McGonagall asked, challenging.

“None at all, Professor,” I replied with a forced smile.

“Good. It will be safe—you’ll be supervised by two adults, and if anything happens, they will assist you,” she added, as Cedric nodded, resigned. “You’ll be working together for the next two weeks, and if you don’t return with at least five recovered creatures, you’ll spend the remainder of the school year cleaning every classroom in the castle, without magic.”

This had to be a joke.

“Very well. You’re dismissed. Mr Howard is in charge now.”

Cedric and I stood up at the same time, slowly and reluctantly. We stood before Nathaniel and waited for him to speak. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. Nervous. Introverted, probably.

“Um… right, please follow me,” he said, his American accent instantly noticeable. “We’ll meet Hagrid at the edge of the forest.”

We began walking behind him. The silence between the three of us was awkward, the tension palpable. I already knew I was going to hate every second of this.

“So… American, huh?” said Cedric, breaking the silence in the most friendly and infuriating tone.

“Uh? Oh, yes. I’m from the United States.”

“Cool. How’s Ilvermorny?”

“Good. It’s a nice school,” he replied with a shrug. Cedric was quiet for a moment.

“So, um… what should we call you? Are you a professor?”

“Oh, no, no—definitely not,” he said quickly. “You can just call me Nate, I suppose.”

“I’m Cedric. Hufflepuff. Nice to meet you,” he said, all smiles and charm. “She’s… well, she’s your worst nightmare.”

I looked at him, half confused, half offended. What a completely unnecessary comment. Like everything else about him.

“I’m Darcy. Darcy Malfoy,” I said, emphasising my surname and shooting a deadly glare at Diggory. “And don’t listen to him, Diggory is a self-absorbed golden boy full of pride. He only thinks about himself.”

“If that were true, I’d be in your House. And my entire personality would revolve around a meaningless surname.”

“My surname is not—”

“Alright, children, stop bickering. I get it, you hate each other,” Nate said, turning around to face us. “I have to report your behaviour to McGonagall, and if you don’t calm down, she’ll extend your punishment by another week. None of us want that.”

Cedric and I exchanged confused glances.

“What? Do you think we’re thrilled about dragging you two through the Forbidden Forest? With luck, you’ll help us catch a few puffskeins and maybe a porlock or two. Your knowledge is too basic to deal with the larger, more dangerous creatures.”

“Are you underestimating me?”

“No. I’m being realistic. And we don’t want you getting hurt,” he finished, going quiet for the rest of the walk.

As we left the castle, I felt the crisp autumn breeze strike my face. The sky was cloudy, and the ground damp. We walked swiftly towards the western edge of the castle until we reached a small cabin at the border of the forest. As we approached, Hagrid stepped outside and greeted us enthusiastically.

“Detention, eh? Knew it’d end badly, whatever it was you two were up to,” he said as we got close enough to hear him. “Lucky for you, you’re stuck with us and not polishing trophies all day.”

“Yes, lucky us,” I murmured with a sarcastic tone.

“Don’t wander off—and just… don’t do anything foolish,” Nate said as we began walking behind Hagrid.

I’d never ventured this far into Hogwarts grounds, and with good reason. The moment the trees started surrounding us, cutting visibility to barely five metres, I felt an eerie shift in the air. It was colder here, somehow, and the few remaining rays of daylight barely pierced through the thick canopy above. My footsteps on damp soil and fallen leaves echoed, and I could swear I heard whispers behind me every few seconds. I slid my wand into my hand and gripped it tightly.

My face must’ve exposed the terror I was feeling because Diggory bumped his shoulder into mine and chuckled quietly.

“Scared, Malfoy?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “And you’re not?”

“A bit, yeah. But it’s all under control—if it weren’t, they wouldn’t have sent us in.”

“You trust them?” I whispered, hoping the adults ahead wouldn’t hear. The brunette shrugged and nodded. “That’s very Hufflepuff of you.”

“Why wouldn’t I trust them? They’ve done nothing to make me think otherwise. And come on—look at Hagrid. How can you not trust a bloke like him?”

“I don’t give my trust to anyone who hasn’t earned it first. I just hope nothing tragic happens to us in here. And if it does, my mother will make sure whoever’s responsible pays dearly for it.”

“Us?” he asked, smirking and raising a brow. I rolled my eyes.

“Obviously not. No one in my family cares about anyone else. And could you please stop smiling all the time? It’s insufferable.”

“Are you telling me you don’t adore my smile?” he said in an exaggerated tone, feigning offence before grinning again. “You should try it sometime, Malfoy—might melt some of that ice around you.”

“Maybe I don’t want it to melt. Maybe I like the ice,” I said, glaring at him and speeding up, leaving the Hufflepuff behind me.

“Listen closely, children,” Hagrid said, stopping. “Some creatures belong to the forest. Unicorns, trolls, centaurs, acromantulas, thestrals. A few fairies, maybe. Best not to cross paths with any of them, but if we do—avoid contact. And if necessary… run.”

“Right, thanks, Hagrid,” Nate interrupted quickly. “There are at least two dozen puffskeins on the loose. Being XX-class creatures, we haven’t given them much attention. But there’s something you should know.”

Cedric and I exchanged a confused glance as we picked up on the worry in Nate’s voice. He stepped closer, lowering his voice and looking us straight in the eye.

“The creatures we’ve recovered so far are… different.”

“What do you mean?”

“You see—”

“Some sort of dark magic appeared in the forest last summer,” Hagrid jumped in, “and it’s drawing the creatures from Mr Howard’s case—but not just drawing them. It’s changing them. You’ve no idea. Makes ’em wild, violent, dangerous. Even the tamest, dullest beast has gone up three levels in the Ministry’s Classification of Magical Creatures. And we still don’t know what kind of magic it is. Dumbledore’s looking into it, but—”

“That’s enough. I think they’ve heard quite enough… thank you, again,” Nate said, sarcastic.

“What?” I asked, trying not to sound completely terrified. I failed.

“You weren’t meant to know that much. It’s confidential, so if either of you breathe a word outside this forest, you’ll be dealing with Dumbledore himself. But don’t worry—Hagrid and I know plenty about these creatures. We’ve got it under control.”

“Yes, the only issue is we don’t exactly know how some of them have changed, so there’s a chance—”

“Everything will be fine. Just… don’t listen to him,” Nate interrupted for the third time.

“So… how do we find the puffskeins?” Diggory asked. I glanced at him—his smile had finally vanished, replaced by a look of unease.

“The basic diet of a wild puffskein is made up of insects—mostly spiders and moths. So we’ll be circling the acromantula nest, searching among the leaves and soil.”

“We’re going near the acromantulas?”

“Just close enough. Hagrid made sure to ask for a favour.”

Ask for a favour?

“Those things are massive. We’d never outrun them… I don’t think this is safe. What if—?”

“Don’t worry, Darcy. Everything’s under control.”

But something inside me said it most definitely wasn’t.

The deeper we went into the forest, the darker, colder and more sinister it became. I hadn’t let go of my wand for a second, and I was checking over my shoulder at least every thirty seconds—usually to find Diggory behind me, unfortunately. At least he hadn’t tried to strike up conversation, which was odd for him, considering he’s the most sociable person at Hogwarts.

“Right, kids. This is where we start—begin the search,” Nate said, casting Lumos and crouching down.

“Search?” I repeated, horrified. There was no way they expected me to start digging around for balls of fur on the forest floor, among all the insects.

“Yes. We need to search bushes, logs, burrows, anywhere low to the ground.”

“Hope you brought your oldest cloaks, you’re going to get filthy,” Hagrid added cheerily as his dog Fang began sniffing around. “That’s it, go on, boy. Good lad.”

“You two go that way. Don’t split up. And if there’s trouble, you do know how to use Protego… if not, scream. And run. I’ll be over there,” Nate added quickly as he started walking off. “Don’t kill each other. Good luck!”

I looked at Diggory. He met my eyes—both of us completely serious and silent. The only sounds surrounding us were the chirping of crickets, the hooting of owls, and the rustling of leaves in the wind. I instantly felt uneasy. How in Merlin’s name was I meant to cooperate with him? Every time we’ve interacted, it’s been to make each other’s lives miserable. And the words we’ve exchanged haven’t gone beyond insults and irritation.

This is going to be a long night.