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Chapter Text

If there was one thing on this earth that Siobhan Serpent was certain of, it was where she would sleep tonight. Tonight she would sleep in a bed even more comfortable than the one at home, deep below the surface of the lake she was currently crossing, back impossibly straight on the rickety old boat. Many of her fellow passengers were shaking, though the evening was as balmy as it had been for the past fortnight, with summer refusing to give way to autumn. It had been a month since her family had shared bread and the temperature had only increased. But no matter, the temperature would soon drop, just as surely as she would be sorted into Slytherin House within the hour. 

Her unsteady companions did not seem to share even a shred of her certainty. “Oh God…” Was muttered next to her, a phrase she heard was a muggle swear, and she curled her lip at the display of ill manners. “This thing is gonna sink, I just know it.”

“Oh do pull yourself together.” Siobhan drawled, shuffling away from the white-knuckled girl. “They're enchanted, obviously, they can't sink, we're not even rocking.”

“I'm not imagining it.” The girl huffed. “We're definitely rocking.” Even in the darkness Siobhan could watch the girl pale. 

“Oh we ain't gonna sink,” chirped an unconvincing redhead. “We'll be fine.” This statement cheered absolutely nobody, and Siobhan could not have been more relieved to reach the castle and remove herself from this cloud of anxiety surrounding her boatmates.

Unfortunately for her, her own anxiety reared its head as they ascended the steps of Hogwarts Castle, and doubt began to creep in. It hadn’t occurred to her until this moment that there was a possibility that she may not be sorted into Slytherin. Which would be nothing short of humiliating, really. She was a Serpent, for Merlin’s sake, there hadn’t been a single member of her family sorted into any other house. Ever. Her mother liked to claim the Serpents were the most direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin himself. And obviously everyone believed her. 

As far as her family were concerned, it was not a question of if she would be sorted into Slytherin, only how quickly it would be confirmed. According to rumour, the hat had hardly touched Doireann, her sister, before sorting her. Siobhan’s outcome would be equally as certain, surely.

Still, her stomach tightened as the doors swung open.

The Great Hall was dazzling. Hundreds of candles floated in midair, casting a warm glow over long tables filled with staring faces. Above, the ceiling reflected the night sky, darker now, endless stars scattered against black velvet.

A stool and a patched Sorting Hat waited in the center.

Names were called. Students shuffled forward one by one, the Hat proclaiming them for Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin. The cheers rang out, each House celebrating its newest member. All the while, Siobhan could feel Doireann’s eyes on her, hovering nervously. She probably should have paid closer attention to the names of her various new classmates, particularly the new Syltherins, but barely any of them registered, not until her own name was finally called.

She stepped forward, steady and deliberate, her back rod straight, as instructed. Whispers rippled through the Hall at her surname. The Hat slipped down onto her head, over her eyes, and a voice filled her mind.

“Ah, a Serpent, you think you already know where you belong don’t you… ambitious, sharp..yes, you’d do well in Slytherin, I suppose. But what about… there’s a good brain in there…hmmm, there’s more of a lion in there than you wish-”

“-No, please,” Siobhan thought. “There’s only one answer.”

“Indeed, if you insist,” the Hat chuckled. “Better be… SLYTHERIN!”

Her table clapped politely, and she took her place next to her fellow first-years, though not before a quick hug from Doireann in the prefect’s section of the table.

With her fate firmly sealed, Siobhan finally took the time to scan the hall for the rest of the fresh recruits. She spotted the nervous girl, from the boat, gazing up at the ceiling from the Hufflepuff table. Likely muggle-born, she thought, if the nerves and shock were anything to go by. 

Being towards the end of the sorting, she didn’t have much time to take note of the others before the feast appeared before them and she was pulled into conversation by her housemates.

Xx

Doireann had been right about the beds at Hogwarts, so right that Siobhan had wondered for a bit if they were made that way by magic. The rest of the dorm was, if she’s honest, a little creepy. The Slytherin common room was vast and shadowed, its stone walls lit by eerie green lamps which didn’t seem to give off any of the cozy warmth of regular oil lamps. The ceiling arched high above, carved with twisting serpentine patterns. Beyond the tall windows stretched the depths of the Black Lake — dark water pressing against the glass, shapes moving lazily in the murk. Every now and then, a shadow flickered past.

Green and silver tapestries hung on the walls, and armchairs upholstered in black leather were scattered around the fire — a fire that burned cold and white instead of orange. The air smelled faintly of iron and damp stone.

Siobhan could only hope at this point that she would fall in love with the place, find comfort in the gloom. For now though, she had to get to her first day of classes. To start, Charms.

To start classes with the Deputy Headmistress was intimidating, to say the least, and only made more so by Professor Weaver’s clipped tone and sharp wandmovements as she demonstrated their very first spell. In the name of unity and clique prevention Weaver had paired the students up in alternating houses, sitting Siobhan with the nervous girl from the boat. 

Vivian - whose friends at home apparently called her Viv (which Siobhan would not be doing) -  nearly jabbed her eye out with her enthusiastic wand movements. The feather she was supposed to be levitating trembled, rolled sideways, and promptly burst into flames.

Students shrieked. “Opps”, Vivian laughed, batting at it with her sleeve until Weaver appeared next to them, snapping her wand toward it. 

“Aguamenti,” she said crisply, dousing the fire in an instant.

Vivian turned to her with a sheepish grin. “Thanks! I suppose I got a bit carried away.” Weaver simply nodded and produced another feather.

“You think?” Siobhan interjected coolly. “You were wielding that wand like you were trying to beat the spell into submission.”

Vivian chuckled, completely unoffended. “Well, it worked. Just… not the way I wanted.”

Siobhan pressed her lips together, torn between annoyance and something dangerously close to amusement. This Clark girl was chaos wrapped in a smile. While Weaver explained the movement to Vivian again, Siobhan’s feather levitated gracefully into the air.

Xx

Slytherin seemed to have an inordinate number of classes paired with Hufflepuff. Siobhan had to wonder if there was some kind of calculation behind it, or simply some cruel twist of fate. Because for every single one of these classes, Siobhan ended up paired with the same Hufflepuff. 

“Not again,” Siobhan muttered under her breath, dropping her bag on the potion’s bench when Professor Knight called out the pairs. 

“God, I’m buzzing for this one, aren’t you? Actual potions…” Vivian’s eyes actually got a little misty. “Probably so much cool stuff you can use potions for, I bet medicine is the bollocks for wizards. My mum’s a nurse, I was going to be one too. I was really excited to start properly studying science, this is probably the closest thing you lot have, huh?”

“Clark.” Professor Knight interrupted.

Vivian nearly dropped her quill. “Sir?”

“If I asked you to tell me the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane,” Knight drawled, “would you be able to?”

Vivian blinked. “They’re… um… both plants?”

A ripple of laughter went around the room. Knight’s lip curled. “Idiotic. They are the same plant. Ten points from Hufflepuff.”

Even Siobhan wanted to wince. Taking points on the first day like that, from a muggleborn, for not knowing something like that? That was too harsh. Vivian’s ears went scarlet. She hunched low in her seat, avoiding Siobhan’s eye..

“Serpent,” Knight said suddenly.

Siobhan’s head snapped up. “Yes, Professor?” This was her moment, she hadn’t had a proper chance to prove herself today, and first impressions are important. She could feel the rest of the class watching her.

“What would I obtain if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

She didn’t hesitate. “The Draught of Living Death, sir, a powerful sleeping potion.”

Knight’s eyes gleamed. “Correct. Ten points to Slytherin.”

Their first task was to brew a cure for boils, much to the dismay of many of the other first-years. Boils were hardly glamorous, but they were easy to cure. “Try not to ruin mine,” Siobhan said coolly, measuring out her ingredients.

Vivian bristled. “Yours? We’re partners, aren’t we?”

“I’d rather not be.”

Vivian snatched up a knife, chopping her dandelion roots with more force than finesse. “Then you’d better keep up, Serpent, because I don’t plan on failing.”

They worked side by side, tension humming between them like a taut string. Siobhan’s cuts were precise, her stirring smooth and practiced. Vivian’s technique was messy, but even so she was focused, barely taking her eyes off her textbook while she measured. Her stirring technique left something to be desired, but in the end, their potion earned a tilt of Professor Knight’s head that they took to be approval, and Siobhan strained the potion into vials for storage. 

“Told you.” Vivian smirked. “So you can get off that high-horse you’re on, I might not have been doing this since I could crawl, and my family may not be famous or anything, but you aren’t any better than me, and I’ve not done anything to you…yet.”

Xx

Siobhan slid into her seat at the Slytherin table, settling next to a few first-years she still barely knew. She surveyed her Housemates; older students chatting quietly, prefects keeping watch with sharp, appraising eyes, Doireann stopping to throw her a wink. The Great Hall smelled of roast meats and fresh bread, a heady mixture that made her stomach growl.

Across the Hall, at the Hufflepuff table, Vivian Clark was waving at someone she had just met, laughing like she had no care in the world. Siobhan set her jaw and looked down at her plate, stabbing at a roast potato with deliberate force.

“First day gone well, Serpent?” asked the girl seated next to her, a second-year with sleek black hair, her mouth tilted up in a smirk.

Siobhan shrugged. “As expected.” She kept her gaze on her plate, though her mind lingered on Vivian — that reckless, clever, infuriating girl who had already managed to cross her path more than once, and would, it seemed, be her class partner for the foreseeable.

The Slytherin table erupted into quiet laughter as an older student recounted a story from last year, and Siobhan let herself relax just enough to eat. But her attention kept flicking back across the Hall, toward that sunny Hufflepuff table. Vivian was now leaning forward, elbows on the table, talking animatedly to a first-year boy who was clearly trying not to snort with laughter.

Doireann stood, raising a hand. “Heads up, first-years. Curfew is in an hour. Make your way back to the dorms promptly.”

Siobhan nodded, rising. She walked past the Hufflepuff table deliberately, not breaking her stare. Vivian met her eyes again and winked- a deliberate, teasing motion.

Siobhan’s stomach flipped. She scowled but kept walking, ignoring the flush creeping up her neck, she’d been challenged, and she was not winning.

Back in the Slytherin dorms, she sank into her chair by the fire, staring at the green flames. Today had been a test -the Sorting, the lessons, the first meals - and tomorrow would be no different.

Chapter Text

Hogwarts was overwhelming. The castle’s stone corridors twisted endlessly, the staircases shifted without warning, and every professor seemed to have their own definition of “proper conduct.” For Siobhan, armed with a prefect for a big-sister and a long family history at Hogwarts, first-year life was just about manageable- so long as she could keep her wits about her.

Vivian, on the other hand, treated every corner of the castle like a playground. She laughed at every warning, ran headlong into mischief, and somehow charmed everyone around her with a smile that refused to stay contained. Even as a muggle-born, Vivian seemed to glide through the first few months at Hogwarts with enviable ease. Though the three detentions she had racked up in that time were less enviable.

Siobhan supposed she should really just be grateful that she hadn’t been roped into these detentions too. The teachers certainly seemed determined to pair them up at every other opportunity. By December, the students had gotten the hint to keep the pair as far away from each other as possible, at least in the corridors, there was nothing to be done in the classrooms.

Siobhan found that the Slytherin common room took on a dank kind of comfort as they descended into winter, the magic appearing to give up completely on creating a semblance of daylight. Thankfully, the fire had started to burn warm, allowing students to huddle in its glow once their homework was done. Doireann showed her how to charm her skirt to keep out the chill that permeated the stone walls of the castle, as well as how to keep her hair from succumbing to the damp air. Therefore, Siobhan had been able to maintain an impeccable adherence to the uniform, as well as the sleekest hair in her year, while the rest of them donned thick knitted socks and several scarves at once.

Summer Jones, the least sunny girl Siobhan had ever met, had cut the fingers off a pair of gloves in order to be able to hold her quill in class. And had grumbled for weeks on end that the castle hadn't been charmed to be warmer. Professor Weaver had docked Slytherin five points when the girl had refused to demonstrate the summoning charm, claiming she was too cold to move. Summer had huffed in their room all evening, refusing to come down to dinner, despite the fact that the Great Hall was one place in the castle where warmth was an absolute guarantee.

Summer had become something of a shadow for Siobhan. As dormmates, they had few options but to stick together, and given that no one would have Summer, Siobhan was rather stuck with her. She felt for Reece, Summer’s designated Hufflepuff class partner, whose shoulders seemed to have become permanently stuck in his too-long hair. Being Professor Knight’s son also hardly helped matters, the man was little short of terrifying and it had been decided amongst the first years that the boy was best avoided for fear of any rule-avoidant behaviours getting to the teacher’s ears. Siobhan found this to be unlikely, the boy hardly ever tried to speak to anyone.

It was harder than she had expected, to make friends at Hogwarts. If Siobhan was unfortunately forced to hold a birthday party, she would barely fill the third floor bathroom. The only people she could count on to come were Doireann, a second-year Slytherin called Janice who made Siobhan more nervous than friendly, and Marjorie - a Gryffindor who went by Margie, which Siobhan didn’t think was better than her given name, but went along with regardless- who wanted to be friends with everyone and Siobhan found absolutely insufferable.

Thankfully, there were no birthday parties on the horizon. What was on the horizon, however, were increasingly complex potions practicals which her partner was taking less than seriously.

“Do you reckon if I stir it the other way it’ll bubble faster?” Siobhan’s hand shot out to stop Vivian's, which was already starting to stir counterclockwise.

“Yes.” She snapped. “And it will immediately curdle, we will fail, and both our houses will lose points. And if Professor Knight knows you did it on purpose, we will end up in detention.”

“Alright.” Vivian pouted, returning to the measured, clockwise stir that had been instructed.

Siobhan kept her hand hovering over the rim of the cauldron, as though ready to snatch the ladle back again if Vivian so much as twitched the wrong way. The potion was beginning to thicken, a sheen like molten glass rolling over the surface, and the smell was at least promising.

“You know,” Vivian muttered, clearly bored, “if you’d just trust me once, maybe I’d surprise you.”

“Last time I trusted you, you exploded a herbicide potion,” Siobhan hissed. “It took me two weeks before my eyebrows grew back evenly.” They had lost ten points each as well, but that didn’t mean much to Vivian, she had learned.

Vivian’s lips curled into a grin, but she said nothing. For a moment, the only sounds were the steady scrape of the ladle against the cauldron walls and the occasional pop of a bubble breaking the surface. Then, faintly, a hum rose from the potion—a low, resonant note that vibrated in their bones.

Siobhan froze. “Do you hear that?”

Vivian’s eyes widened. “Oh, I heard it…” The hum deepened into a wobbling warble, like a kettle crossed with a trombone. Both girls leaned back as the potion suddenly fizzed, changing from glassy-clear to a suspicious shade of pink.

“Oh no,” Siobhan whispered. “That’s not right.”

“Oh wow,” Vivian said, her grin spreading. “That’s brilliant.”

The potion hiccupped. Then, with a cheerful pop, it released a puff of glittering steam that shot straight upward and exploded across the ceiling like a firework, showering the classroom in sparkling pink dust. Within seconds, every student was coughing, sneezing-and squeaking. Actual squeaks.

Professor Knight’s wand flicked once, clearing the air. His expression was thunderous. “Miss Serpent. Miss Clark. Ten points from each of your houses.”

“But-” Siobhan began, already certain she couldn't talk her way out of this one. .

“And,” he added, louder, “detention. Both of you. Maybe then you’ll finally learn to take more care with your assignments.”

Siobhan nodded glumly, glaring at Vivian who was leaning over the cauldron, oblivious to their teacher’s icy stare. “Clark.” He barked. “When I speak to you I expect a response.”

“Yes sir,” she straightened her back. “Detention. Understood sir. Sorry sir.”

Xx

Detention turned out not to be scrubbing cauldrons or copying lines, as Siobhan expected, but the far less glamorous task of de-sliming the greenhouse gutters after a week of rain, without magic.

“This,” Siobhan muttered, wiping her face with her sleeve as she wrestled a bucket of green sludge into place, “is all your fault.”

Vivian, elbow-deep in ooze and utterly unbothered, gave her a lopsided grin. “Actually, this is our fault. Partners, remember?” She flicked a lump of slime at Siobhan’s face.

“Stop that!” Siobhan hissed, trying to shake it off. “If you weren’t constantly sabotaging our potions for fun, we would be in bed right now.”

But then Vivian laughed. “I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“You’re not?” Based on her reactions, Siobhan could have sworn each messed up potion had been intentional.

“Of course not, just never done it before. But it is really cool when they explode like that, never seen anything like that in the normal world.” She gave a lopsided shrug. “I am sorry for getting us in trouble…”

“No!” Siobhan jumped in, shocked at her own volume. “It wasn’t your fault. Could have been mine.”

“Oh yeah.” Vivian scoffed. “It’s the famous Siphan Serpent making all the mistakes, not the non-magical girl no one’s ever heard of. That makes loads of sense, everyone would believe that.” Under the moon, tired and cold, Vivian’s crooked smile was far less irritating than before. Until her hand slipped and she knocked her bucket off the roof. “Bugger.”

By the time they’d cleared half the gutters, both girls were covered in streaks of slime, their hair stuck to their foreheads, and their boots squelching with every step. Siobhan slipped on a wet patch and nearly toppled into her bucket, only saved because Vivian caught her by the elbow. For the first time, instead of snapping, Siobhan found herself laughing too.

When Professor Knight returned at midnight to dismiss them, he raised one eyebrow at the sight of the two girls leaning against the greenhouse wall, filthy, exhausted, hair clinging to their faces with slime. “I trust you have learned your lesson.” Both girls nodded vigorously, avoiding each other's eyes to avoid bursting into giggles.

As they trudged back toward the castle, Vivian nudged her shoulder against Siobhan’s. “You’re not too bad Serpent, can’t think of anyone better to spend detention with..”

Siobhan rolled her eyes, but she didn’t pull away. “Don’t make a habit of it.”

Vivian smirked. “Too late.”

Chapter Text

January blew in grey and icy. On the train back to Hogwarts, Siobhan endured Summer’s rant about disappointing Christmas gifts as sleet pounded the windows. Any relief she may have felt upon arrival to Hogsmeade was decidedly short-lived, the wind scraped the flesh from her cheeks and brought a sting to her eyes, but she refused to let her stride falter as she rushed to the carriages with the rest of the crowd.

Before the break, Hogwarts had glowed with lights and glittering trees. Now its battlements bristled with dangerous looking icicles that rattled loose, shattering in sharp cries. Siobhan kept her back straight and her head high, her face arranged into a mask of disinterest as she glided between patches of black ice, while her nervous fellow first years stumbled and slipped around her.

Using a different tactic, Vivian Clark moved with a kind of reckless, childlike urgency-as if the only way to survive the cold was to outpace it. Every few steps, she would slip a little, then right herself with a flailing gesture or a burst of laughter.

“They can enchant the Great Hall ceiling,” she called, locking eyes with Siobhan. “Surely they could clear a few walkways?” Siobhan arched a brow but said nothing. Vivian had a point, the older students could have removed the ice no problem, but as first years they were ushered to the castle first, and made to brave the ice.

Vivan kept ploughing forward, making it several feet ahead of Siobhan, the two of them leading the pack. She’d clearly lost the battle with the wind; her cheeks were raw and her hair, which looked like it had once been contained in a ponytail, had worked itself free and fell around her shoulders in miserable black streaks.At the base of the castle steps, Vivian paused, stamped snow from her boots, wiped her runny nose, and glanced back at the grim-faced stragglers.

The two girls reached the great doors together, shaking off snow. Siobhan pressed her fur-lined hood closer, maintaining her dignified facade. "Looked for you on the train," Vivian mumbled, eyes downcast. "You seemed occupied with Little Miss Sunshine."

"A summer's day she is not," Siobhan drawled. "Try sharing a dorm with her."

Vivian's smile bloomed into a genuine grin. "You don't seem that warm yourself," she countered, tugging her Hufflepuff scarf tighter. For a moment, they stood with breath clouding between them. Vivian winked, and they both dissolved into giggles. Something bright in Vivian's eyes made Siobhan look away.

Inside, the Entrance Hall's warmth washed over them as the heavy doors sealed out the howling wind. The crowd dispersed—Slytherins to the dungeons, Hufflepuffs west—leaving them briefly alone at the crossroads.

Vivian tucked a wet strand behind her ear. "Good to see you, Siobhan."

Siobhan nodded once. "Best get dry before dinner." They parted—Vivian's boots squeaking, Siobhan's heels clicking in perfect counterpoint.

Siobhan dried quickly, eager to escape both Summer and the gloomy Slytherin dormitory. The torches flared as she entered the main corridor, where the scent of roasting meat and warm bread guided her toward the Great Hall. Students streamed past in laughing clusters while golden light spilled from the oak doors ahead.

Inside, her eyes found the Hufflepuff table first. Vivian sat halfway down, her damp hair catching the firelight in raven strands as she joked with classmates. Siobhan froze, struck by a sharp urge to interrupt their fun. Instead, she composed herself and turned toward her own table, where Janice patted the bench beside her with a sweet smile. Siobhan sighed. Dinner would be loud, but at least it would be warm.

Xx

Siobhan slipped into Charms with more enthusiasm than all last term, relieved to sit in her assigned seat beside Vivian. “Today, first-years, we’ll work with Incendio,” Professor Weaver announced, glasses sliding down her nose. “Keep your flames small until you have control. Understood?”

A chorus of “Yes, Professor” followed, and Vivian muttered, “Why didn’t we learn this before Christmas?”

Siobhan raised her wand, mimicked the gesture she’d watched hundreds of times, and whispered Incendio. A neat, candle-sized flame appeared—perfectly contained. Reece coughed out smoke. Vivian, in a flourish, unleashed a towering blaze that Weaver immediately doused.

“Precision, Clark,” she snapped.

Siobhan felt a strange tug in her chest—not envy but pride mixed with a new appreciation for Vivian’s showmanship. She let her little flame warm her palm, then snuffed it and demonstrated again for her partner.

Vivian leaned closer. "Perfect little flame. You could probably light every candle in the Great Hall without breaking a sweat."

Siobhan allowed herself a small satisfied smile. "Your movements need to be more natural—precise but relaxed. Magic is part of you, not something you force."

"Be the magic. Got it." Vivian tried again with less flourish. Her flame wavered dangerously toward her sleeve until Siobhan guided her wrist to the correct angle. The fire steadied into a manageable glow.

"There," Siobhan said softly. "Not everything has to be a performance."

Vivian's expression shifted, unreadable. "Cheers."

Professor Weaver's voice cut across the room. "With practice, you'll focus your Incendio to light candles or hearths. But remember—one flame directed at another student means detention for a week."

Weaver circled the room as students practiced, smoke curling from failed attempts. The girls' wands rose in unison. Two flames—Vivian's wild, Siobhan's precise—spiraled together into a single brilliant fire hovering between them.

Conversations died. Weaver's stern face softened momentarily before she snapped, "Control!" and dispersed their creation with a flick. "Impressive for first years," she murmured, leaning closer. "But pooling magic requires caution. Magic can be very dangerous when combined."

Siobhan's pulse raced beneath her skin. She caught Vivian's eye, her smile brighter than their shared flame. "That was amazing," she whispered.

Chapter Text

Siobhan set her stack of textbooks with a decisive thud, laying claim to the table. The library was starting to fill up in the afternoons, with summer term rapidly approaching and workloads rising by the day. Vivian arrived three minutes late, as expected, swinging her satchel onto the chair with a flourish, sending a shower of quills, crumpled parchment, and the odd muggle biro scattering across the tabletop. Siobhan regarded the debris with a mix of horror and resignation, nudging a leaking inkpot away from her History notes before it could bleed into the margins.

“Sorry,” said Vivian, with zero evidence of actual remorse. She pulled off her scarf and plopped into the chair. “Got held up by Mrs Adams. She doesn’t trust me much, apparently. Not that I’d do anything in the library, but you know…”

“I do,” said Siobhan, who herself had been warned twice about misfiling returned volumes, and Mrs Adams liked her…as much as she could like anyone, apparently. “If you don’t keep your wand movements inside regulation, she’ll write you up.”

“I don’t think she likes first-years. Or Hufflepuffs.” Vivian grinned, then unwrapped a brick-like sandwich from her pocket and took an enormous bite. “Or people who eat in the library,” she mumbled around the bread.

Siobhan fought the urge to sigh. “Do you ever do anything by the book?”

Vivian considered. “I read them. That’s by the book, isn’t it?”

Despite herself, Siobhan’s lips twitched. She bent over her assignment, feigning indifference, but her ears tracked every move Vivian made: the way she tapped her quill twice before starting to write, the nervous humming under her breath, the constant motion—hair twirling, page flipping, boot heel bouncing in time to some inner rhythm. It was a wonder the girl got any work done at all.

Tonight’s assignment was a pair’s project on what they believed to be the most influential event in wizarding history between 1310 and 1460, a “collaborative opportunity” foisted on the first-years in hopes of fostering inter-house cooperation, again. Most pairs had simply muttered instructions to each other as class ended, but the girls had found they worked quite well together, and Siobhan did not hate Vivian’s company, and found herself eager to agree when asked to keep it.

For the first half hour, they worked in silence, having decided on an event before leaving class, the only sounds were the scratch of quills and the low tick of the ancient library clock.

“Transformed fire itself into a tool of secret resistance and empowerment rather than annihilation.” Siobhan muttered under her breath.

Vivian, face screwed up in amusement. “Bit flowery in’t that?”

“The biggest development in wizarding history between 1310 and 1460,” said Siobhan, unable to disguise her impatience. “Surely we're supposed to be enthused about it.”

“Annihallation though?”

“I’m being quite serious.”

Vivian squinted at the page, then at Siobhan, then back at the page. “Oh you’re like…really into this one aren’t you?”

“Why did you think I chose it?”

“So you wouldn't have to give a presentation on Quidditch?”

“I still can’t believe you wanted to do that.”

“It’s way more interesting than this, this is basically muggle history…”

“Quidditch is not interesting, I don’t know why you even bother going.”

“You know what? I bet you ten sickles that if you come to the Quidditch with me next Saturday, you’ll enjoy yourself.

“Fine,” she conceded,“We’re done for tonight.”

Vivian’s face lit up as if she’d won a prize. “Brilliant. Hey, do you want a bite?” She slid her sandwich across the table. “It’s egg and cress. From the kitchen. I can nick you something better tomorrow, if you’re not allergic.”

Siobhan shook her head, but not as sharply as she would have a few months ago. “I’m not hungry,” she lied. She was, but admitting that felt like giving up even more ground. Instead, she fiddled with the silver serpent embroidered at the edge of her sleeve, the threads smoothed almost flat by habit.

Vivian noticed the gesture. “That’s pretty,” she said, mouth full. “We don’t get anything that nice on our uniforms.”

“It’s silver thread,” said Siobhan, unable to keep the pride from her voice. “Family heirloom. They add a new coil for every year you’re at Hogwarts.”

“Wow. Is it weird, carrying your family around like that?” Vivian’s question was blunt, but her tone was soft.

Siobhan stiffened, ready to retort, but found herself thinking about it for the first time instead. “It’s… expected. My parents think tradition is more important than comfort. That if you’re not bearing up under the weight, you’re not doing it right.”

Vivian set down her sandwich. “That sounds exhausting.”

Siobhan traced the serpent’s tail. “It’s not exhausting. It’s… motivating.” She straightened her spine, as if the extra coil were a physical burden. “You can’t let it slip, or you risk bringing the whole thing down.”

Vivian smiled. “No pressure, then.”

“None at all,” said Siobhan, but there was a wryness in it this time.

They fell quiet again. Outside, drizzle pressed against the windowpanes in soft, patient drops, muting the sounds of the castle. The lamps flickered lower as the evening approached. It would be dinner time soon.

“Your mum’s a nurse?” said Siobhan, surprising herself. “You mentioned it, once.”

Vivian’s eyes brightened, the blue of them almost impossible in the low light. “Yeah. It’s why I want to get better at potions. She always said medicine is magic, even if you have to wear gloves and use the proper forms. She thinks I’ll do better than her, though. She’s never worked on a broken bone that tried to grow teeth.” Siobhan snorted. Vivian, emboldened, leaned in closer, the teacup now cradled between both hands. “What about you? Do you want to go into politics, or run the family business, or…?”

Siobhan hesitated. “I haven’t decided. I want to be the best, but I don’t know what that means, yet.”

Vivian nodded, as if this made perfect sense. “You figure it out. You’re already better at all this than anyone else I’ve met.”

Siobhan felt her face heat, and she was grateful for the dim light. She found herself smiling, a real smile, the kind that pulled at the corners of her mouth and didn’t leave a bitter aftertaste.

The clock tolled the hour, a low, solemn note that vibrated through the shelves and brought hungry students to standing, gathering their books.

“We should probably get going,” said Vivian, gathering her notes with all the organization of a crumpled newspaper. “Don’t want to miss dinner.”

Siobhan capped her ink and slid her books into the leather satchel Doireann had handed down to her. She felt lighter, somehow, as if she’d left a piece of her burden behind on the table. She hesitated, then said, “Same time tomorrow?”

Vivian grinned, wide and open. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

As they walked out together, they were swept up in the gentle tide of students on their way to the Great Hall. At the doors, Siobhan watched Vivian go, and wondered if, just maybe, she’d finally found a place to belong that wasn’t measured in thread count or family name.

Xx

The Great Hall was quieter than usual, its golden glow dimmed by exam season. Scrolls of parchment and battered textbooks littered every table, students hunched over them with furrowed brows and ink-stained fingers while they chewed absently on sausages and chicken legs..

Doireann Serpent, leaned against one of the pillars lining the room. From her vantage point, she could see her little sister sitting among the badgers—an odd sight, but not exactly unwelcome.Doireann couldn’t say she found this first year crop particularly inspiring. Her sister’s friend,, ink on her nose and a grin on her face, happily sketching a goblin with an oversized hat in the margin of her notes, was an interesting prospect. Doireann had heard many stories about points and detentions, she felt like she practically knew the girl. Their parents could do without the detentions Siobhan had shared, but the actual girl would be a valuable friend, whatever they said.

If anyone had told her in September that Siobhan -disciplined, sharp-eyed, and cautious to a fault- would befriend a muggle-born Hufflepuff, of all people, she’d have scoffed. Hufflepuffs were steady, kind, soft where Slytherins were steel. But then came that shared detention, when Siobhan had returned to the dungeons, filthy and grumbling. Doireann had expected her sister to keep her distance afterward. Instead, the two had gravitated toward each other, quarrelling less and laughing more with every week.

And now, watching them share parchment and ink, Doireann realized Siobhan wasn’t just tolerating Vivian. She trusted her. Thank Merlin.

Siobhan tapped her quill against the table,groaning. “Viv, the 1431 goblin uprising was not about hats.”

Vivian grinned, twirling her quill between ink-stained fingers. “No, but if we pretend it was, it makes the essay memorable.”

“Professor McNell doesn’t appreciate ‘memorable.’ They appreciate correct, she’s the most exacting professor we’ve got. She’s worse than Knight. You can’t just make things up.”

From her corner, Doireann nearly laughed. Siobhan’s sharp corrections matched by Vivian’s lighthearted jokes, it was exactly what she hoped her sister would find at Hogwarts.

Xx

The week of exams descended like a storm.

In Charms, Siobhan’s feather rose with steady grace. Vivian’s shot toward the ceiling before bouncing back down, earning a snicker from the other Slytherins.

In Potions, Vivian’s draught nearly curdled, but Siobhan nudged her arm at the right moment, and the mixture settled into a passable shade of blue.

History of Magic was the greatest trial.

Vivian sat with her quill poised, mouthing Siobhan’s meticulously rehearsed dates. “1373, 1431, 1552…”

Siobhan muttered, “Leave out the hats.”

Vivian winked. “No promises.” Hours later, they stumbled out of the hall, ink-stained and exhausted, bursting into laughter at their relief.

On the final afternoon, Doireann found her sister in the quad, parchment abandoned on her lap. Vivian sprawled beside her, telling some exaggerated tale about tricking Peeves with a bucket of honey. Doireann lingered in the passageway. Siobhan’s sharp edges seemed less brittle now, smoothed by the company she kept.

Later, walking her back toward the dungeons, she caught Siobhan’s arm.

“You’ve had a good year,” Doireann said quietly.

Siobhan blinked. “I’ve survived.”

“No,” Doireann insisted. “You’ve grown. And that Hufflepuff girl? She’s been good for you.”

Siobhan hesitated, then allowed a small, rare smile. “Maybe… we’ve been good for each other.”

Xx

The Hogwarts Express rattled steadily along the tracks, carrying its cargo of tired but buzzing students back toward London. Trunks were stowed, sweets passed between compartments, and the chatter of a hundred voices mixed with the whistle of the train.

In one of the quieter compartments, Siobhan sat opposite Vivian, a History of Magic text open on her lap even though exams were already over.

Vivian watched her, chin propped in her hand. “You’re still revising?”

Siobhan didn’t look up. “Always worth getting ahead.”

Vivian laughed softly. "You're unbelievable, you're such a Slytherin." She watched Siobhan turn a page, meticulous even now with exams finished. Strange how this had become her favorite place to be. Back in Hufflepuff, she had dozens of friendly faces, but none who challenged her like Siobhan did—who saw past her jokes to what mattered.

Siobhan glanced up, catching Vivian's gaze. She'd been certain Vivian would rejoin her adoring Hufflepuff crowd after exams. Yet here she was, choosing this quiet compartment instead. Lately, Siobhan had noticed how Vivian's shoulders lowered, how her laugh deepened when it was just the two of them.

“Do you think it’ll be like this next year?” Vivian asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

Siobhan looked up. “Like what?”

“You know. You and me, always… together.” Vivian hesitated, then added more softly, “You’re the only one I really clicked with.”

Siobhan blinked, startled. “You… mean that?”

Vivian’s grin faltered into something smaller, more serious. “Yeah. I do.”

Siobhan shut her book, slowly. “Then… I suppose it will be like this next year.”

Vivian’s face lit up, the weight of the admission melting into relief. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me now, Serpent.”

Siobhan smirked, though her eyes were softer than usual. “So it seems.”The train rattled on, carrying them both toward summer.

Chapter Text

The scarlet steam engine gave its familiar whistle, smoke curling through the morning air. Families bustled on the platform, hugging children goodbye, trunks bumping across the stones. Vivian darted between groups, her ponytail bouncing, scanning every face until she spotted a familiar one. She found Siobhan standing apart with her trunk at her side, perfectly composed as always.

Vivian grinned so wide her cheeks hurt. “Oi, Serpent! Thought you’d sneak on without me?”

Siobhan’s head turned, her grey eyes softening. “I thought you’d be surrounded by your admirers.” she smirked, falling easily back into teasing banter.

Vivian rolled her eyes. “Please. They’re fine for games of Gobstones. But I was waiting for you.”

“I am waiting for Doireann. She and my parents stayed back to talk. They’re gunning for her to get Head Girl next year.” She looked around the platform again, stopping to check her sleek leather watch.

“No pressure.” Vivian whistled. “How was your summer? I spent mine growing.” She had, in fact, grown nearly half a foot over the break.

“I can see that. I doubt you took the time to study?” Vivian actually snorted at her. “You know this year is going to be harder than the last?”

“And it hasn't even started yet.” Vivian rolled her eyes. “Calm down, nerd.”

Cutting it close, Doireann and her parents finally arrived, breezing elegantly along the platform, bringing a nervous lump to Vivian's throat. Siobhan’s parents were terrifying. Tall, spindly and elegant, their presence made Vivian’s spine stiffen.

“Oh Vivian!” Doireann pulled her in for a very unexpected and unprecedented hug. “I hope you had a fabulous summer! Mummy, Vivian is Shiv's very good friend.” She introduced them while Siobhan blushed.

“Nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Serpent.” Siobhan’s mother took Vivian's outstretched hand in her cool one.

“A muggle-born…how interesting.” The pause that followed stretched long enough for Vivian’s cheeks to prickle. She almost wished she could vanish into the steam billowing from the train.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said evenly, willing her voice not to betray the sudden heat in her ears.

Siobhan coughed delicately, her cheeks still blotched pink. “Mummy, Vivian is one of the best in our year.” It’s a slight exaggeration, she didn’t exactly come top in exams, but her performance had been impressive considering how she started. And what Mummy didn’t know… She fiddled with the strap of her satchel, a nervous tic. “Honestly, I’d be lost without her.”

Mrs. Serpent’s sharp eyes lingered a second longer than was comfortable. Then, with the faintest arch of her brows, she turned her attention to her eldest daughter. “Come along, darling. Prefect meetings won’t wait.”

Mr. Serpent inclined his head politely, though the way his gaze swept over Vivian made her feel catalogued, like a beetle pinned neatly under glass.

Doireann squeezed her arm before trailing after her parents, whispering, “Ignore her. She’s like that with everyone.”

Vivian raised a brow. “Everyone muggle-born, you mean.” Doireann’s guilty silence was answer enough.

The train gave a loud whistle, breaking the moment. Students jostled past, and Vivian grabbed Siobhan’s trunk before she could think too hard about what had just happened. “Come on,” she said briskly. “Let’s get a compartment before we’re stuck with the first-years.” But as they climbed aboard, the knot in her stomach stayed firmly in place.

They found an empty compartment midway down the train. Siobhan stowed her trunk neatly, while Vivian collapsed onto the seat, stretching her legs out. “So,” Vivian said, rummaging through her bag, desperate to rid them of the hovering tension. “I brought you something.” She continued triumphantly, producing a crumpled paper bag. “Muggle sweets. My mum sent me off with them. They’ll blow Chocolate Frogs out of the water.”

She tipped the bag into her lap, a mess of bright wrappers, and shapes Siobhan had never seen before.

Siobhan eyed them with suspicion. “They look… artificial.” She drawled, picking at the selection

“And magic sweets aren’t? Sugar should not run away,” Vivian said, unwrapping one and popping it in her mouth. “Try this one.” She held out a blue raspberry, the sugar coming off on her hands.

Siobhan hesitated, then took it delicately. The sharp sweetness burst across her tongue, and her eyes widened despite herself.

Vivian grinned, pointing her finger. “You like it!”

Siobhan composed her face quickly. “It’s edible.”

“Oh, come on. Admit it.” Siobhan looked away, but the faintest flush crept up her neck. “Oi,put out your tongue.”

“Why on earth-”

“Oh come on, lemme see.” She took Siobhan’s shoulder, spinning her round to face her. “Come on, out.” When Siobhan relented, showing off her bright blue tongue, Vivian leaned back, smug. “Alright then, BonBon.”

Siobhan’s gaze snapped back. “What did you just call me?”

Vivian twirled another sweet between her fingers, ate it, and stuck out her own tongue, revealing the result to Siobhan’s horror. “BonBon. Suits you, doesn’t it? Sharp on the outside, sweet if you know where to look.”

Siobhan sputtered, caught between indignation and laughter. “Absolutely not.”

“Too late,” Vivian said, grinning. “It’s official now. BonBon.” To her surprise, Siobhan argued no further, instead settling next to her and picking up the bag of starburst.

The train rattled onward, laughter and chatter seeping through the walls of the compartment. Vivian stretched, content. “It feels good to be back, doesn’t it?” The summer had seemed endless for Vivian, the possibilities in the magical world making the muggle world seem bland in comparison. Her brother had nearly fainted the first time Siobhan’s owl tapped on the window of their apartment, but he had lost interest once he realised it would be the only cool wizard thing she’d be doing all summer.

Siobhan tilted her head, considering. “It feels… better than I expected.” Her own summer had been quiet, her family’s attentions firmly on her sister, leaving her to her own quite lonely devices. Writing to Viv had been her primary pastime over the summer. Inane things, really. In fact, so inane she’d written more letters than she’d sent, holding more than a few back for worry of boring her friend. There was only so much discussion of dinner menus a person could take, after all. “Certainly less nerve-wracking than last year.”

Vivian smiled, softer this time. “That’s because you’ve got me. And I’ve got you. Second year, BonBon, we’re unstoppable.”

“I wasn’t aware anyone was trying.” Siobhan rolled her eyes. The bag of sweets between them was half-empty now, outside, the countryside blurred into a green smear.

“So,” Vivian mused, popping a lemon sherbet into her mouth and waggling her eyebrows like a cartoon, “what’s the plan for the first week back? We could practice being intimidating, start a secret society-”

“‘Practice being intimidating’ would be wasted on you,” Siobhan interrupted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And why would we need to start a secret society?”

Vivian feigned shock. “We are second years. We need to establish dominance!”

Siobhan’s mouth twitched. “Dominance?”

“Can’t let the firsties think we’re soft,” Vivian laughed. “And if we let the third years walk all over us this year, that’s us pathetic until seventh year. But you’ll be fine. My terrifying BonBon.” She nudged Siobhan’s hand with her elbow.

Siobhan studied her friend for a moment and felt something like gratitude and worry do a small, complicated dance in her chest. “Don’t you think that nickname will make me seem soft?”

A sharp rap on the compartment door made them both look up. The handle turned and in slipped Marjorie Van Gould, Second Year Gryffindor and incredibly annoying, her huge tortoiseshell glasses slipping down her nose.

“Viv!” she called. “Fancy seeing you here.” She gestured around the carriage as though it hadn’t been guaranteed they would be on the train, and as though she hadn’t known they were in the carriage when she came in.

Marjorie sank into the seat opposite Siobhan with more space than sense. “Have you seen Reece Knight with his little sister? She was half clinging to him on the platform, must be really close. Bit weird their dad wasn’t there, but I suppose he’s already at the castle. How do you suppose that works? I hadn’t thought about it but I don’t think I saw him talk to his dad outside class like all last year. Must be totally bizarre to have your dad be the potions teacher-”

“-For the love of Merlin Marjorie shut up!” Siobhan snapped. She could hardly stand Marjorie on a good day. And her intrusion into their carriage was less than welcome. She should probably feel sorry for the way the girl recoiled, but she didn’t. Whatever.

“Bon…” Vivian shot her a glare. A glare with understanding at the forefront but it was still fairly sharp.

“No…” Marjorie mumbled. “No, it’s alright, was sort of talking your ears off weren't I?”

“A little…” Siobhan mumbled.

“It’s just…I were sitting with these two first year girls, they came into my carriage-” She flicked her eyes between them. I am not desperate for friends, she seemed to be trying to tell them. “And that witch came in and started freaking them out about the sorting. I had to get out of there.”

By witch, Marjorie clearly meant her arch-nemesis. Siobhan didn’t entirely see the problem Marjorie had with the girl, but (as she had learned from Vivian’s summer letters) their constant head-butting was legendary. Siobhan had been rather absorbed in her own head-butting (and later lack thereof) last year to really pay much attention. She also avoided Marjorie at all costs. But Mia wasn’t so bad. She was definitely on Mia’s side. Even if she did call her-

“-Hey, Shibs…” Mia drawled from behind a startled, jumping Marjorie. Marjorie made a noise like a punctured kettle and spun around, falling gracelessly into the seat behind her.

“Mia,” Siobhan said, her tone as flat as she could manage. It wasn’t that she disliked Mia, but she was very much not a fan of the nickname.

Mia grinned, clearly unbothered by Siobhan’s lack of enthusiasm. “Miss me?” she asked, tossing herself into the seat beside Siobhan as if she’d been invited. She stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankle so her boots knocked gently against Marjorie’s knees.

Vivian raised her eyebrows. “Fighting already ladies?”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Marjorie protested shrilly. “She came in, and started terrifying those poor first years—”

Mia cut in with a theatrical flick of her wrist. "Oh please. I simply told them that the Sorting Hat sings a personalised song about each first-year's deepest insecurities. If they can’t handle that they’re not going to get very far."

Marjorie’s mouth opened and closed a few times like she was searching for the right incantation to hex Mia on the spot. In the end, she settled for a loud sniff and crossed her arms.

Siobhan shifted uncomfortably, staring out the rain-streaked window. A few drops ran together and slid down the glass, and she tracked them with her eyes.

“Anyway,” Mia said, leaning back until her head rested against the seat. “How was everyone’s summer? I imagine Shibs here spent hers glaring at muggle villagers until they withered like lettuce.”

Vivian gave a tiny snort of laughter she tried and failed to cover with her hand. She did wilt a little at the glare Siobhan threw at her.

Siobhan turned back, narrowing her eyes at Mia. “My summer was perfectly fine, though it is disappointing to return only to find that you are all as irritating as ever.”

“Ah, you did miss me,” Mia said, grinning wider, throwing a wink at Marjorie.

Marjorie groaned and sank further into her seat. “If this is what this year’s going to be like, I might fling myself into the Black Lake before we even get to the castle.”

Mia tilted her head, mock-serious. “The squid would spit you back out.” Marjorie stuck out her tongue.

Xx

After a whole year, Siobhan could confidently say that the Great Hall always looked its best at the start of term. Candles floated high above, dripping wax that never landed, and the ceiling stretched wide and star-pricked, a perfect mirror of the twilight sky outside. The four long tables gleamed with polished goblets and plates, still empty but promising plenty. It was a welcome return, and Siobhan could hardly believe she’d been so nervous last year.

Siobhan slid into her place at the Slytherin table beside Mia, who deliberately chose the end nearest the staff table. She wanted a line of sight on the Sorting, though Siobhan didn’t quite understand her interest. As Janice and Summer slid in opposite them, the swoop in Siobhan’s stomach told her that it may be a good idea to get a little closer to Mia, if only to give her a proper buffer at these feasts.

“Bet Marjorie’s already planning how loud she’ll clap,” Mia muttered, following her gaze toward the line of first-years being shepherded in.

Across the hall, Vivian caught Siobhan’s eye at the Hufflepuff table and lifted her brows in silent greeting. Marjorie, planted firmly among the Gryffindors, looked like she was half-leaning forward out of her seat, already whispering eagerly to the girl beside her.

Professor Weaver set the stool out, placed the Sorting Hat atop it, and called the first name.The procession began, each small body perched nervously beneath the Hat, each cheer from their new house swelling into the rafters.

“Knight, Autumn.”

A ripple went through the hall. The girl walked slowly, not looking up at her father once on the way to the stool, where she sat, wide-eyed and pale beneath the weight of the Hat as it slipped down over her head, knocking the glasses that were slightly too big for her head down to the tip of her nose…

The pause stretched. Siobhan imagined she could feel the Hat rifling through Autumn’s mind, debating, weighing, like it had with her. She found herself gripping the edge of the table, nails digging into the wood.

Then the Hat bellowed:

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Silence. Autumn didn’t stand for several seconds, sitting under the shocked scrutiny of the entire hall, and the particularly stony gaze of her father,head of Slytherin house. Then the Gryffindor table erupted, and Marjorie was the first on her feet, clapping wildly as Autumn slid off the stool and hurried over. The first-years shuffled to make room, and Marjorie practically shoved herself sideways to pat the bench beside her. Autumn slipped into the spot, cheeks pink, eyes flicking nervously around the room until she spotted her brother at the Slytherin table.

Reece didn’t smile. He inclined his head, just barely, before turning back to his plate.

“Bet he’s thrilled,” Mia said under her breath, lips curling into a smirk. Siobhan didn’t answer.

The Sorting wore on, and soon the Hat was gone, the names called, the applause fading as Professor O’Brien rose to her feet.

“Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts,” she began, her voice carrying clear to the farthest corners of the enchanted hall. “I hope we all had a wonderful summer and we are ready to learn! This year, I hope to see you all embody the values of this fine school, and make us all proud.” O’Brien flicked her wand, and the golden platters brimmed to life with food. Roasts, pies, towers of bread and flagons of pumpkin juice appeared as though conjured from the air itself. The Feast began in earnest-voices rising, laughter, the scrape of serving spoons.

But Siobhan barely touched her plate. Across the hall, she caught sight of Autumn again, Marjorie chattering into her ear, Vivian smiling kindly at something from the Hufflepuff side. Mia casing sidelong glances down the table at Reece.

And Reece-Reece was watching none of them. He was staring into his goblet, jaw set, expression unreadable.

Chapter Text

The Slytherins and Hufflepuffs filed down into the cool, stone-walled dungeon late Thursday morning. The room smelled faintly of herbs and smoke, and shelves lined with jars of glistening things Vivian did not want to think about, cast long, glum shadows. At the front stood Professor Knight, tall and sharp-featured, his black robes perfectly pressed. He didn’t so much look at the students as through them.

“Seats,” he said, his voice clipped. “Pairs. Quickly.”

There was a shuffling scramble. Vivian shot Siobhan an apologetic look across the room after she was immediately claimed by a cheerful Hufflepuff boy. Mia nudged Siobhan toward an empty cauldron near the middle. They slid onto stools just as the last pair settled. Reece Knight had already taken a seat with another Slytherin and was busily unrolling his parchment, his face unreadable.

“Today,” Professor Knight began, “we attempt the Invigoration Draught. A precise brew, simple in theory, but merciless in practice. Failure will result in either sleep lasting several hours or—if you are especially incompetent—a stomachache you will remember for days.”

A nervous laugh rippled from the Hufflepuffs. It died instantly under Knight’s gaze.

“Begin.”

Cauldrons clattered to life with heat. Students bent over ingredient lists, knives flashing as roots were diced and petals measured. Siobhan worked quickly, her hands steady-she was good at this, and she knew it-but her concentration kept slipping toward Reece. The boy’s shoulders were tight, his lips pressed together as he carefully measured peppermint. When she risked a glance up, Professor Knight was there, looming at his elbow.

Knight studied Reece’s potion for a long moment. “Pathetic”  he said coldly. The room went still. Even Summer glanced up from her work. He flicked his wand and half the pile vanished. Reece flushed crimson. “Read the instructions properly, Mister Knight, you disgrace this House, do better.””

Siobhan felt Mia nudge her. “He’s brutal,” Mia muttered, too quietly for anyone but her to hear. “And that’s his son.”

“Imagine what he’s like when the rest of us aren’t there,” Siobhan whispered back, though her eyes lingered on Reece’s downturned head.

Afterwards, Reece didn’t look up once. He stirred his potion with mechanical precision, jaw clenched, ignoring the whispers, ignoring his father, ignoring everyone.

By the time the lesson ended, the dungeon was thick with the sharp, minty smell of successful draughts, as well as the sour, burnt tang of several disasters. Professor Knight swept between tables, peering into cauldrons, his comments as brief as they were cutting.

When he reached Siobhan and Mia, he nodded once at their clear, pale-blue potion. “Adequate.” He moved on before either could breathe.

When he reached Vivian, however, he paused longer than anywhere else. Her potion was serviceable if slightly too cloudy, but Knight’s lip curled.

“Worthless,” he pronounced, voice carrying across the dungeon. “Do try harder next time, Miss Clark, unless you wish to waste your years here as nothing more than a-”

“Sir,” Reece’s voice cut in, sharp as a blade. He looked up. His dark eyes locked on his father. The room went quiet in an instant. Knight’s gaze lingered on his son. Something unreadable passed between them, hard and brittle as stone. Then, finally, Knight turned away, sweeping to the front of the classroom.

“Class dismissed.”

Benches scraped. Cauldrons hissed as flames were extinguished. The students poured out, whispering furiously, some glancing at Reece with unabashed curiosity. Mia frowned as she shouldered her bag. “Family drama in the dungeons. This year’s going to be interesting." Siobhan wasn’t so sure she liked the sound of that.

Xx

The common rooms had long swallowed their students, but the castle still hummed faintly with evening noises, footsteps in distant corridors, the hiss of torches guttering in their brackets. Siobhan and Vivian lingered just outside the Great Hall, the crowd dispersed, their bags hanging heavy on tired shoulders.

Vivian glanced sideways at her, her brow creased. “Potions was…awful today.Have you spoken to Reece?.”

Siobhan shrugged, eyes fixed on the flagstones. “Knight’s like that.”

“With Reece?” Vivian pressed. “I mean-I knew he was strict, but that wasn’t teaching. That was…” She hesitated, then whispered, “That was cruel.”

Siobhan felt the words stick in her throat. She wanted to brush it off-say Reece deserved it, or that Knight was just proving a point-but she couldn’t. Instead, she crossed her arms tightly. “You get used to it.”

Vivian stopped walking. “You sound like you have.”

That landed harder than Siobhan expected. She glanced away, the shadows from the torches stretching long across the corridor.

“Houses are very important. Especially…the Knights have been Slytherins for generations,” she said finally, her voice low. “Slytherin families are very…traditional. I was terrified last year and my parents arent…they’re not professors, but it’s the same. I needed to be in Slytherin. Doireann needed to be head girl. Every misstep is a mark against the family.”  She laughed without humor. 

Vivian’s face softened. She shifted her books into one arm and touched Siobhan’s sleeve lightly, tentative. “That’s not fair. It’s not supposed to be like that.”

Siobhan shrugged her off gently. “Doesn’t matter what it’s supposed to be. It’s what it is.”

“But it’s not you,” Vivian insisted. “You’re… you’re good, BonBon. You’re better than all that.”

Siobhan blinked at her, caught off guard by the earnestness. Nobody ever said things like that.. For a second she didn’t know what to do with it. So she looked away, muttering, “Don’t call me that.” But she smiled anyway, feeling a little lighter.

Vivian smiled faintly, unbothered. “Alright. But I mean it. You’re not like that, and they can’t take that away from you.” For a moment, the corridor was quiet except for the flicker of torchlight. Siobhan tightened her grip on her books and gave a small nod, almost imperceptible.

“…Thanks,” she whispered.

They walked on together, side by side, neither speaking again until the staircases split them toward their separate common rooms.

The Slytherin common room was low-lit and green, firelight rippling off the black lake through the tall windows. Mia was sprawled in an armchair near the hearth, boots kicked out and her bag open at her feet. Siobhan sank into the chair opposite, books heavy in her lap. For a while, they said nothing, only the crackle of the fire filling the silence.

Then Mia said, without looking up, “He’s not going to stop, you know.”

Siobhan frowned. “Knight?”

“Who else? You spent half of dinner staring at Reece.” Mia finally glanced at her, eyes dark and sharp in the flicker of the fire. “He’ll grind Reece down to the bone if he thinks it makes up for Autumn being in Gryffindor.”

Siobhan shifted, uncomfortable. “You sound like you’ve seen it before.”

Mia snorted. “I have. Primary school.  Before Hogwarts, before all this? Reece was always…he tries so hard.. Never once got praised for it. Just—‘should’ve done it faster,’ ‘could’ve done it cleaner.’ Knight’s been at him his whole life. Autumn too, though she was better at bouncing back. And Roger always liked her more than Reece.” Siobhan blinked. She’d never heard Mia talk about the Knights like this, like she’d been standing in their kitchen watching the whole thing unfold.

Mia leaned back, tossing her quill onto the armrest. “I’ll give him this, though. Reece learned early how to keep his face blank. You could set him on fire and he wouldn’t flinch.” Siobhan thought of Reece’s steady hand over the cauldron, the perfect draught destroyed with a flick of his father’s wand, his jaw tight but his eyes giving nothing away. 

“That doesn’t mean he’s fine,” she said softly.

Mia’s gaze snapped back to her. For a second she looked ready to argue, then she exhaled and looked away. “No. Doesn’t mean that at all.” The fire popped, embers sparking.

Siobhan clutched her book tighter. “…My parents are the same, you know.”

Mia’s eyes flicked back, sharper now. “Yeah. I know.”

That startled Siobhan. “You know?”

Mia shrugged. “You  old families are all the same. You think I’ve never noticed the way you act every time you get a letter from home?” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “You don’t have to spell it out, Shibs. I can see it. Same poison, different bottles.”

Siobhan opened her mouth, then shut it again. She hadn’t expected that from Mia-she hadn’t expected to be seen so clearly.

Mia leaned back again, smirking faintly, but the edge in her voice was gone. “Anyway. If you want sympathy, go cry to your Hufflepuff. I’m just telling you the facts.”

Siobhan rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth tugged upward. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah,” Mia said easily. “But at least I’m right.”

“Mum was really rude to Viv on the platform…” Siobhan mumbled. It had bothered her since the train, and, if she’s honest, had worried her from the moment she arrived home in July. 

“Yeah.” Mia smiled, unsurprised. 

Xx

The courtyard was still damp from morning rain, the flagstones slick underfoot. Students hurried across in knots of cloaks, the first-years trailing behind their prefects. Vivian lingered by the edge of the fountain, balancing her books on her hip while she waited for Marjorie to catch up. Already, Marjorie was three minutes later than her note said.

Marjorie arrived at a half-run, hair escaping its braid, scarf askew. “Viv! Thank God, didn’t want to shout across the Hall with half the school listening.”

Vivian smiled faintly. “Everything alright?”

Marjorie huffed, dropping onto the fountain’s edge with more force than necessary. “Depends on who you ask. Autumn Knight… well. You saw her face at breakfast.”

Vivian nodded slowly. Autumn had barely touched her toast, eyes darting from one end of the Gryffindor table to the other as though she wasn’t sure where she fit.

“She’s been trying,” Marjorie went on, words tumbling fast. “She’s sweet, Viv, really she is, but she’s-” She dropped her voice. “-upset. The other Gryffs don’t know what to make of her yet, the’re too scared of her dad to try and be her friend. And she keeps glancing at the Slytherin table like she’s expecting Reece to-oh, I don’t know-smile at her. And you know how that’s going.”

Vivian’s stomach tightened. She remembered Potions vividly, the way Knight had shredded Reece in front of everyone. And Autumn wasn’t even there to see it.

“She must feel like she’s lost both of them,” Vivian murmured.

“Exactly.” Marjorie leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “And she’s trying so hard not to show it, which only makes it worse. I thought-well-you’re good at this sort of thing, I mean, you made friends with me and Siobhan Serpent. Maybe you could talk to her?”

Vivian blinked. “You want me to?”

“You’re nice, approachable. I just… I don’t think she needs more of me barging in with advice.” Marjorie gave a sheepish smile. 

Vivian tilted her head, thoughtful. “Alright. I’ll try.”

Marjorie brightened at once, bouncing upright. “Brilliant! And if she wants to fly after dinner, I’ll bring the spare broom. Reece told me last year she’s quite the flier..she looked like she wanted to last night but didn’t ask. Just… I don’t want her to… the other first years are already joined at the hip. She’s braver than she thinks, clearly she’s a Gryffindor for a reason. She just needs someone to remind her.”

Vivian smiled faintly, watching Marjorie dash off toward the staircases. She stayed by the fountain a little longer, the rain dripping from the eaves around her, wondering what she would say to Autumn Knight when the time came.

Xx

The library was quieter than usual, only a few students tucked away in corners under the dim golden lamps. Siobhan sat with her back to the stacks, parchment spread across the table, her quill tapping against the inkpot in restless rhythm. Vivian slid into the chair opposite her, clutching her own notes but not opening them.

Siobhan looked up. “You’re late.”

“I wasn’t coming for the essay,” Vivian said softly.

That got her attention. Siobhan set the quill down. “What’s wrong?”

Vivian hesitated, then leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Marjorie asked me to keep an eye on Autumn. To… talk to her. She’s struggling.”

Siobhan’s mouth tightened. “Of course she is.”

Vivian frowned. “You say that like it’s her fault.”

“It’s not,” Siobhan said quickly, sharper than she meant. She pulled her parchment closer, pretending to scan a line she didn’t read. “But she’s a Knight. And a Gryffindor. That’s…” She trailed off.

“Complicated?” Vivian prompted.

Siobhan gave a bitter laugh. “That’s one word for it. You saw what Knight did to Reece in Potions. He’ll keep at it until there’s nothing left of him. And Autumn-” She shook her head. “She’s the reason. At least in his eyes.”

Vivian’s expression softened, but she didn’t look away. “Which is why she needs someone. Someone who isn’t a Knight.”

Siobhan glanced up at her, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re saying I should stay out of it.”

“I’m saying you don’t have to carry their mess on top of your own.” Vivian’s tone was gentle, not scolding. “Marjorie’s right-I can listen. I can help. You don’t have to.”

For a long moment, Siobhan studied her friend across the table, the way Vivian’s hands folded neatly atop her notes, the steadiness in her gaze. “You don’t know these families. How they think it’s right to… to set people against each other, to punish their own children for things they didn’t even do.”

Vivian smiled faintly. “You’ve already told me all about that.” Siobhan’s stomach twists at all. 

“Maybe… But I can’t say how kindly Autumn would take to a total stranger talking to her about this.” Siobhan’s quill scratched across the parchment again, though her hand was too tense for the letters to come out clean. “But for me, and for Reece… it’s easier if you’re the one who helps her.”

Vivian let the silence linger for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll try.”

They bent their heads over their work, the library’s quiet wrapping around them. But Siobhan’s quill wavered, and she couldn’t stop picturing Reece’s blank expression as his father destroyed his potion, and Autumn, waiting for a smile from the brother who refused to give one. And her mother. How interesting. 

Chapter Text

The wind bit across the pitch, tugging at scarves and hair as the students gathered. The grass was damp, the sky low and gray, and the goalposts gleamed in the afternoon light.September was quickly descending into autumn. Vivian tightened the straps of her boots, grabbing her broomstick. It had been a very expensive gift from her parents, who, knowing nothing at all about flying or brooms or Quidditch, had spent hours in Spinwiches picking it out. Her heart thumped, not just from the chill, but from the weight of what she was about to do. She was Muggle-born, yes, and she knew the doubt would follow her. She had heard them already, in the corridors, under breaths on the way down to the pitch. “She can’t possibly know enough…”

Siobhan appeared beside her, robes flapping in the wind. “You’re sure about this?” she asked, tone calm but eyes sharp.

Vivian squared her shoulders. “I didn’t come all this way to sit on the sidelines.” Last year, Vivian had fallen deeply, madly in love with flying. From the very first lesson, she knew this was her talent. And then she’d attended her first Quidditch game, and she simply had to be on the team.

Siobhan hesitated, glancing at the group of Hufflepuffs already on the pitch. They were all much taller than Viv. Some of them were joking comfortably with each other, showing off their brooms.

“Just… ignore them,” Siobhan said quietly. “Focus on what you can do.”

Vivian nodded, mounting her broom. “I’ve got this.”

Professor Stewart blew his whistle, calling the first trials. Students took off into the sky, brooms streaking through the clouds. Vivian followed, letting the wind lift her. She twisted and dove, hands sure, heart steady. Her housemates were showing the sort of control that came with years of experience, but she didn’t feel she was doing too badly.

A few spectators cheered for their friends but Vivian didn’t falter. In each round of trials, she threaded through the markers, dodged bludgers, chased the Quaffle, and even scored a quick point before the whistle blew.

Landing back on the pitch after the final trial, she heard the mix of murmurs. Some impressed, some begrudging, some shocked. She caught Siobhan’s eye, and the faintest smile flickered across her friend’s face.

“You showed them,” Siobhan said quietly.

Vivian brushed damp hair from her face, letting herself relax a fraction. “For now. Let’s see if I make the team. Even if I do, it won't get easier. They’ll be watching next week, and the week after. Even in Hufflepuff muggle-borns don’t make the Quidditch team. Especially second-years.”

“No,” Siobhan agreed. “But when has anything like that stopped you.

Vivian grinned, gripping the broomstick tighter. “I’ll just have to keep flying.”

X

The notice board outside the Great Hall was crowded with parchment, each new announcement fluttering in the afternoon breeze. Vivian approached slowly, chest tight, stomach twisting. Siobhan trailed beside her, quiet as ever, eyes scanning the board with a calm that did nothing to ease Vivian’s nerves.

Her fingers brushed the edge of the parchment where the new Quidditch roster had been pinned. Heart hammering, she scanned down the Hufflepuff team list.

And there it was:

Chaser: Vivian Clark

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Then the world tilted slightly as a grin broke across her face. She had made it. She had actually made it.

Siobhan’s elbow nudged her. “Well?”

Vivian spun toward her friend, eyes bright. “I did it!” she whispered, nearly laughing with relief and disbelief.

Siobhan’s expression softened into a rare, small smile. “I told you. You’ve earned it.”

A few Slytherins passed by, eyes flicking toward her. Summer gave a half-smirk, Janice’s gaze lingered with faint surprise. “No contest there, anyway.” Summer muttered.

Vivian clenched her fists, not from anger, but determination. “Whatever,” she muttered. “I’ll show them exactly what I can do.”

Siobhan shook her head, amused. “I can’t wait to see it. Just… don’t get too cocky Viv.”

Vivian laughed softly, letting the tension in her shoulders ease just a fraction. “I won’t. But I am going to enjoy this.”

Xx

The only problem with making the Quidditch team was that Vivian felt she barely had time for anything else. She wouldn’t let her house down, and as a result, every free moment she had she was either on the pitch of feeling guilty that she wasn’t. So much so that October, and with it the first match of the season, rolled around and she had barely seen Siobhan, nor had she spoken to Autumn Knight, like Marj had asked.

The stands were buzzing with students, the air thick with cheers, laughter, and the smell of rain-damp grass. The sky overhead was a crisp, clear blue, perfect for flying, and the pitch stretched wide beneath them. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor players were taking their positions, brooms gleaming in the sunlight.

Vivian adjusted her gloves and tightened her grip on her broom. Her heart thumped-not just from nerves, but from the weight of expectation. The whispering had already begun: “That Muggle-born? She'll be flattened in seconds." "Hufflepuff's doomed with her."

Siobhan, perched in the stands above the Hufflepuff goal, gave her a sharp nod and a fist pump. “You’ve got this,” she mouthed.

The whistle blew. They were off.

Vivian shot forward, the wind tearing past her, the world shrinking to the feel of her broom beneath her, the Quaffle tucked safely in her arm. Gryffindor’s Chasers were quick, aggressive, and clearly underestimated her at first. One dove toward her, confident, only for Vivian to swerve sharply, forcing him to overshoot. A flick of her wrist and she passed the Quaffle to her teammate, who pivoted toward the goal.

The first point went to Hufflepuff. A cheer erupted from their stands, though the Gryffindors only scoffed.

Vivian felt her pulse spike. She could do this. She could hold her own.

Minutes passed in a blur of motion, chases, feints, and dives. Gryffindor scored once, then twice, but Vivian’s quick reflexes kept Hufflepuff in striking distance. She dodged a bludger from a Gryffindor Beater, twisting midair, heart hammering, and launched herself forward, eyes scanning for an opening.

A teammate called for a pass. Vivian pivoted, sending the Quaffle spinning perfectly toward the other Chaser. A second later, it hit the Gryffindor hoop with a satisfying clang. Hufflepuff gained another point.

From the stands, Siobhan clapped, quiet but intense, her eyes locked on Vivian. “That’s it, Viv. Keep going.”

The match continued with frantic energy. Gryffindor tried to press her, their skepticism slowly turning into a grudging respect as she intercepted passes and threaded the Quaffle through impossible angles.

By the end of the match, Hufflepuff hadn’t won-they were behind by a handful of points-but Vivian had made her mark. Her teammates swarmed her, clapping her on the back, and even a few of the more skeptical Hufflepuffs whispered their congratulations.

Breathless, hands shaking with adrenaline, Vivian swung down from her broom after the final whistle. Siobhan was waiting at the edge of the pitch, smiling fiercely.

“You did it,” she said simply.

Vivian grinned, brushing damp hair from her face. “We didn’t win… but I didn’t crash. That’s a start.”

Siobhan rolled her eyes, but there was pride in her gaze. “It’s more than a start. You were brilliant.”

Xx

After the match,the Gryffindor common room was warm and golden, filled with the murmuring of students dripping in red and gold. Autumn sat near the hearth, knees pulled up, her arms wrapped around them. Around her, the other first-years chattered excitedly about the Quidditch, many of them never having seen such an exciting match themselves.

“That was deadly, I swear, I’ve never seen anythin’ like that! That was like… God, I thought hurling was class…”

She didn’t join in. She didn’t even glance at the house scarves draped over the backs of chairs, or the painted lion on the wall. The house pride, the Gryffindor mascot, the camaraderie-none of it felt like hers.

Every time she thought of the Sorting Hat, she remembered its voice in her head: “You have courage, yes, but also caution… and loyalty… a choice to make.”

Loyalty. She didn’t want to feel loyalty to a house that defined itself by shouting and daring at every turn. She wasn’t sure she wanted to feel it at all.

Not once had the hat mentioned ambition. Instead, when she’d asked for Slytherin, it had brushed her off immediately. Ambition didn’t come close to defining her, apparently.

Her thoughts drifted to Reece, to the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. His face, calm, unreadable, and utterly unbending. As usual. He lived his house like armor. The thought of her trying to inhabit Gryffindor in the same way made her chest tighten. This house wouldn’t protect her from anything, already it had caused more problems than it could ever hope to solve.

She pulled a book from her bag, not for reading, but to have something to occupy her hands. She could feel the hum of the common room around her, the laughter growing as it filled, students moving around her.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that over time, she might grow into this, she might cheer for victories, wear the scarlet with pride. But for now, she wanted to exist quietly, to avoid the heat of house loyalty, and to keep the uneasy distance between herself and the expectations that came with it.

A shadow fell across her lap. She looked up to see Marjorie crouched nearby, scarf crooked, hair falling across her eyes.

“You’re sulking again,” Marjorie said lightly, though her tone carried concern. “What’s wrong? Wasn’t that exciting? We won!.”

Autumn looked at her over the rim of her glasses. “I know you know better than to ask why that doesn’t excite me.”

Marjorie nodded slowly, settling beside her. “I know, I really do. But sulking over here isn’t going to help you make friends, okay? They’re not going to trust you when you act like you hate them all. You don’t have to be loud or crazy, okay, just, a bit of house pride wouldn’t go amiss.”

Xx

The courtyard was quiet, the early evening sun casting long shadows across the flagstones. Autumn sat on a low stone bench, knees pulled up, arms resting on them, staring at the courtyard fountain without really seeing it.

Vivian approached slowly, hands clasped lightly in front of her. She paused a few steps away, making sure Autumn noticed her before speaking.

“Hi,” she said softly. “Marjorie said… she asked me check in on you.”

Autumn’s head lifted slightly, eyes wary. “Check in?”

Vivian smiled gently. “Yeah. See how you’re doing. How you’re… settling in.”

Autumn’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m fine.”

Vivian didn’t move closer, but she didn’t leave either. “I know saying ‘I’m fine’ can be easier than… you know, talking about it. But sometimes it helps to have someone to talk to who doesn’t expect you to cheer for the house or anything.”

Autumn’s eyes flicked toward her, curiosity sparking faintly beneath caution. “You don’t know me at all, we’re not even in the same house, you’re not in the same house as my brother…”

“That’s true, this is probably your first impression of me… Bit weird.” Vivian shook her head. “Do you mind if I sit? I don’t know you, I sort of know your brother a bit though, my best friend is in his house, and she’s worried about him, so she’s worried about you, so here I am. And Marjorie’s worried about you too. You’ve got a lot of people in your corner.”

Autumn swallowed, still unsure, but a fraction of the tension in her shoulders eased. “My brother hasn’t spoken to me since I got here.”

“Have you tried speaking to him?” Vivian’s smile was soft, knowing. “Exactly. Maybe start there. And don’t start thinking it’s too late to make friends. Me and Siobhan hated each other for ages, now we’re best friends. So you know, talk to your roommates. You can go at your own pace.”

Autumn considered her for a long moment, then nodded slightly. “My father wouldn’t like m-”

“He doesn’t seem to like very much, your dad, maybe worry about that less. You don’t have to be him, just you.” Vivian’s grin widened, subtle but warm. “Okay?”

Autumn’s lips twitched into a faint smile, the first one in days. “I… think I’d like that.”

“Great..” Vivan stood. “And if you need anything, just let me know, yeah?”