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"You're only watching the Quidditch trials today?"

Esmie glanced over at Maddison, raising an eyebrow as she settled into her seat in the grandstand. The autumn breeze whipped through the air, carrying the scent of the freshly cut Quidditch pitch. Esmie and Maddison had arrived early, securing a prime spot alongside Hermione, Elsie, Grace, and Hope. The grandstands were gradually filling with other students, all excited to see who would make it onto the Gryffindor team.

"Yeah," Esmie replied, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Harry said I didn't need to try out since I've been on the team for years. He already wants me on the roster." Her voice carried a touch of pride, and rightfully so. She had been a Gryffindor Chaser since her second year, and her skills had only grown since then. Today wasn't about her, though. She was here to support her fellow Gryffindors who were trying out for a place on the team.

Maddison gave her a knowing look. "It's a bit weird, isn't it? Not being out there with them?"

Esmie shrugged. "A little, but Harry said he's got it all under control. I offered to help, but he insisted I just enjoy watching." She wrapped her arms around herself, the chilly breeze making her regret not dressing more warmly. She had always loved the energy of Quidditch, the adrenaline, the fast pace, and the rush of being in the air, but now, watching from the stands, she felt oddly distant from it all.

"I still can't believe you've been on the team since you were twelve," Hermione chimed in, her voice thoughtful as she adjusted her scarf. "You've always been a natural."

"Thanks, 'Mione," Esmie smiled, grateful for the compliment. "But Harry's still the only one the school ever let join before their second year."

Back in their fourth year, Esmie had gone with Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys to the Quidditch World Cup. It had been an incredible experience, and it was around that time that Harry had confessed to Esmie that he had a crush on Maddison. Esmie had been one of the first to know, and she had watched with amusement as Harry had awkwardly navigated his feelings before finally asking Maddison to the Yule Ball. Now, here they were, years later, still together and stronger than ever.

"Look at Harry," Maddison said with a dreamy smile, watching her boyfriend on the field as he gave instructions to the Gryffindor hopefuls. "He looks so focused."

Esmie chuckled. "He's trying to be a good captain, I guess."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "It's a lot of responsibility, but if anyone can handle it, it's Harry."

"Where's Josie?" Elsie asked, looking around as if expecting their friend to show up at any moment.

"She said she had something to do for Herbology," Esmie replied, shrugging. "I'm sure she would've been here otherwise."

Grace leaned back in her seat, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "Els, doesn't Slytherin care that you're sitting here cheering for Gryffindor? You'll be up against them soon."

Elsie smirked, flicking her hair back dramatically. "I'm here for my brother. Slytherin can deal with it, and besides, they've got bigger things to worry about — like whether Enzo's going to try and knock Esmie off her broom again this year."

Esmie rolled her eyes but laughed. "I've told him he can try. It's not like I'm going to stop being friends with him just because he hits me with a Bludger."

"Enzo really does make the game interesting," Grace teased, nudging Esmie playfully. "He's just giving Gryffindor a better shot at winning."

"You're totally right, Grace," Hope said with a wide grin. "And honestly, Els, you're secretly rooting for Gryffindor, aren't you? Because let's face it — we've got the best Quidditch team."

Elsie raised an eyebrow, her smile turning competitive. "That's where you're wrong, Hope. Slytherin's the best team, and you know it."

Esmie chuckled as she listened to their playful banter, but the cool wind sweeping through the stands made her shiver again. She rubbed her hands together, trying to fend off the cold. "I should've brought a jumper," she muttered under her breath, hugging her arms tighter around her body.

Hermione, ever prepared, shot her a stern look. "I told you to bring one. You insisted you'd be fine, and now look at you. If you spend the entire time complaining, I will hex you."

Esmie laughed, nudging her friend. "I'm one of your best friends, 'Mione. You wouldn't hex me."

Hermione crossed her arms, "Don't tempt me."

"So, why didn't you bring a jumper?" Hope asked, raising an eyebrow.

Esmie shrugged, eager to change the subject. "Do you guys remember when Draco made the Slytherin team in second year?"

Grace grinned. "Oh, yeah. That was when you accused him of buying his way onto the team."

Esmie's cheeks flushed slightly at the memory. "Okay, well, his dad did buy the entire team new Nimbus 2001s, so it kind of seemed like he did, but I apologised to him eventually."

"Even after he —" Grace started, but Esmie cut her off quickly.

"Yes, even after that," Esmie said, not wanting to dwell on the unpleasant memory of Draco calling her a Mudblood. It had taken her a while to let go of her anger toward him, but eventually, they had reached a kind of truce.

Their attention shifted back to the field, where Harry was struggling to get the Gryffindor players' attention. Ginny, standing beside him, looked like she was about to take matters into her own hands.

"SHUT IT!" Ginny suddenly shouted, her voice cutting through the noise. Esmie smiled at her fiery friend. Ginny had always been a force to be reckoned with on and off the pitch.

"You've got this, Harry!" Maddison cheered loudly; her voice filled with pride.

"Go, Harry!" Elsie added, her own excitement evident as she clapped her hands.

As the trials began, Esmie's attention was drawn to Cormac McLaggen, who was trying out for Keeper. She noticed him sneaking glances at Hermione and nudged her friend with a grin. "Why is Cormac staring at you?"

Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes. "No idea, and I don't want to know."

Esmie chuckled, knowing that Cormac's interest in Hermione wasn't exactly mutual. Her attention drifted back to the field as Ron took to the air, looking both determined and nervous. Ginny flew effortlessly, her natural talent on full display as she grabbed the Quaffle and zoomed past the other players.

"I know I play too, but Quidditch can be brutal sometimes," Esmie commented as she winced at the sight of two players colliding mid-air. Hermione nodded in agreement, her eyes following the action.

Esmie's thoughts began to wander as she watched the trials. Katie Bell was performing well, her movements on the broom smooth and precise. She split two defenders with ease, making a slick pass to Dean. Harry, standing on the sidelines, seemed impressed, but Esmie couldn't shake the small pang of jealousy that tugged at her. It wasn't that she disliked Katie, but the idea of her joining the team stirred something inside Esmie that she couldn't quite place.

"Go, Ginny!" Hermione, Elsie, Maddison, and Esmie cheered in unison as Ginny scored a goal. But as the wind picked up again, Esmie couldn't ignore the cold any longer. She stood up, shivering.

"'Mione, can you fill me in later how the trials go? I'm freezing."

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Back to the castle," Esmie said, rubbing her arms for warmth. "I need to get a jumper, and there's something else I want to do."

After saying goodbye to her friends, Esmie hurried back to the castle, eager to escape the biting wind. She made a quick stop by her dorm to grab a jumper — one of her favourites, an oversized sweater Enzo had given her during their fourth year. It was worn and soft, a comforting reminder of their friendship. Pulling it on, Esmie felt the warmth seep into her bones as she wandered through the castle corridors.

As she walked, her thoughts shifted. For some reason, she found herself heading toward the dungeons, her mind drifting to Snape. She wasn't entirely sure why, but something inside her urged her to talk to him.

Just as she reached the door, she bumped into Mattheo, who was strolling through the corridor with his usual casual swagger.

"Hey, Emmy," Mattheo greeted her with a grin, his dark hair falling into his eyes.

"Hey, Matty," Esmie replied, sniffling slightly. The cold air had made her nose run, and she rubbed at it absentmindedly.

"Do you have a cold?" Mattheo asked, raising an eyebrow in concern.

"No, just a runny nose," Esmie shrugged. Mattheo pulled out a tissue from his pocket and handed it to her.

"Is this used?" Esmie asked, eyeing the tissue suspiciously.

Mattheo frowned. "You seriously just asked that?"

"I was just making sure," Esmie mumbled as she wiped her face with the tissue before going to hand it back to Mattheo, who made a face at her.

"That's disgusting, I don't want your used tissue," Mattheo replied.

"Oh, right, sorry."

"Where are you off to?" Mattheo asked, looking at her curiously.

"I was going to see Snape," Esmie admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Snape? Why?" Mattheo asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know," Esmie said with a small shrug. "I just felt like talking to him."

Mattheo looked unconvinced but didn't press further. "Well, good luck with that."

Esmie waved him off with a smile and continued toward Snape's office. When she reached the door, she knocked hesitantly. "Enter," came Snape's cold voice from inside, and suddenly, all of Esmie's courage evaporated. She quickly turned and hurried away from the office, her heart pounding in her chest.

She didn't get far before she ran into Draco, who was striding confidently down the corridor.

"Esmeralda?" Draco asked, stopping in his tracks as he saw her.

Esmie straightened up, forcing a smile. "Hi, Draco. What are you doing here?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What am I doing here, in the Slytherin dungeons, where I live? What are you doing here?"

Blushing slightly, Esmie laughed awkwardly. "Right ... I guess I'm the one out of place here."

"I would've thought you'd be down at the Quidditch pitch with the rest of Gryffindor — and Elsie. I mean, you are on the team, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm on the team," Esmie replied, wrapping her arms tighter around herself against the biting chill that seemed to follow her all the way from the Quidditch pitch. "But they didn't need me today. I was just watching. Came back to the castle to grab a jumper." She glanced down at her thin sleeves, now feeling foolish for not taking the cold seriously earlier. "Let me guess, you knew Elsie comes to watch our practices?"

Draco chuckled softly, the sound echoing slightly in the empty corridor. "Of course, I know. She's Potter's sister, after all. It's not exactly a secret she's been watching you lot." His smirk deepened. "And you didn't think to bring a jumper? That's unlike you."

Esmie rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a smile. "You could call him Harry, you know. He does have a first name," she quipped. "And don't start on the jumper thing. Hermione already gave me a full lecture on how I should've brought one."

"Granger's right," Draco said, clearly enjoying himself. "You should've taken one."

Esmie gasped dramatically, placing her hand over her heart. "Draco Malfoy agreeing with Hermione Granger? Now I know we're living in the end times!" Her mock horror earned a roll of Draco's eyes, but he didn't lose the small smile.

"Don't get too used to it, Esmeralda," Draco drawled, using her full name with a hint of playful sarcasm.

She grinned at him, still a little thrown off by how different this conversation felt from their usual banter. They weren't exactly friends, but this — whatever this was — was surprisingly ... nice. Esmie allowed herself a moment to enjoy it before Draco's sharp gaze flicked down the corridor, assessing her quickly.

"What were you really doing?" he asked, voice dropping slightly. "You're nowhere near the Gryffindor dorms, and wherever you just came from, it wasn't the Quidditch pitch."

Esmie's heart skipped a beat. She knew Draco was too observant to let her slip away with vague excuses. His question hung in the air, and she hesitated for a moment before sighing.

"Fine," she said, resigned. "I was heading to see Snape."

That seemed to genuinely surprise Draco. His brow arched, and the amusement in his eyes shifted to something closer to intrigue. "You were going to see Snape? Esmeralda, everyone knows you can't stand him. Why would you —"

Esmie cut him off before he could finish. "You should follow your own advice and mind your own business," she said, trying to sound light-hearted but feeling the tension build inside her. The last thing she wanted was for Draco to start probing into her reasons for seeking out Snape. The complicated truth — that Snape was her father, and she carried part of the Death Eater mark — was a secret she wasn't ready to share, especially not with someone like Draco.

He tilted his head, studying her closely. "Touchy, aren't we?" Draco's voice softened, and for a moment, Esmie felt a pang of guilt. It wasn't like him to back down from a confrontation, but instead of pushing, he seemed to let it go. "Fine, fine. I'll let you keep your secrets — for now."

Esmie exhaled a small breath of relief; grateful he wasn't pushing the matter further. But before she could dwell on it, Draco surprised her by asking, "So, how was Quidditch practice?"

Esmie blinked, taken aback. In all their years at Hogwarts, they had never had what she would call a real conversation — usually it was all sharp barbs and snide comments, but here they were, talking like normal students, and it caught her off guard. "It wasn't bad," she admitted, relaxing slightly. "But it's more fun when you're playing, not just watching. Are you still playing this year?"

Draco shrugged, looking momentarily distant. "I'm not sure. I haven't decided if I'll stay on the team this year. I might not even finish the term."

Her frown deepened. "Why wouldn't you finish the term? You should play. What's Slytherin going to do without its Seeker?"

He let out a humourless laugh. "They'll survive. Probably just make Elsie Seeker if I'm gone."

"Elsie's good," Esmie acknowledged, "but it wouldn't be the same without you. You are talented, you know."

Draco's expression shifted again, his smirk returning. "Funny you should say that now," he replied, his voice dipping slightly. "I seem to recall you didn't always think so highly of my Quidditch skills."

Esmie flushed, knowing exactly what he was referring to. "Okay, I was twelve at the time," she said, holding up her hands defensively. "I didn't exactly have the best impression of you back then."

Draco's smirk widened. "You said — and I quote — 'At least my father didn't have to buy my way onto the Gryffindor team because I'm not a talentless, stuck-up, spoiled brat who runs to her father for everything.'" He raised an eyebrow. "You practically accused me of buying my place on the team."

Esmie cringed at the memory, her cheeks heating. "I know, I know. That was awful of me. I thought you were just bragging about how your father bought new brooms for the whole Slytherin team, and from where I was standing, it did look like you bought your way onto the team."

Draco stared at her, his eyes glittering with something unreadable. "Do you know what it felt like to be called talentless?"

Esmie's guilt doubled, her stomach twisting. "I'm really sorry," she said earnestly, looking up at him. "It wasn't fair of me to say that. I know now that you're talented, and you deserved your place on the team."

Draco's smirk faded into a softer expression, though his eyes still held that calculating gleam. He stepped closer to her, his voice lowering. "I believe you, Esmeralda, but it doesn't change the fact that you still called me talentless when we were kids."

Esmie's heart skipped as Draco moved even closer, now standing so near that she could feel the warmth of his presence despite the chill in the corridor. She swallowed, her pulse quickening. "I — I was wrong," she stammered, suddenly nervous under his intense gaze.

Draco's hand reached up, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. The gentle touch sent a shiver down Esmie's spine, and she bit her lip, feeling her breath hitch as his fingers lingered near her cheek. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes dropping to her lips for a fleeting second before returning to her gaze.

"I like knowing that you think I'm talented now," Draco murmured, his voice smooth and low. His words seemed to hang in the air, laced with something deeper than simple teasing.

Esmie's mouth went dry, and for a moment, she forgot how to speak. "Y-yeah," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared up at him, her mind racing.

For a split second, it seemed like Draco might lean in closer, but then, just as suddenly as the moment had begun, he pulled away. "I'll see you later, Esmeralda," he said, his tone now casual as if nothing had just happened. With that, he turned and walked down the corridor, his steps fading as he disappeared in the direction of the Slytherin common room.

Esmie stood there for a moment, frozen in place, her mind reeling from the strange and unexpected interaction. She wasn't sure what had just happened, but her heart was still racing, and the warmth of his touch lingered on her skin.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened herself and tried to compose her thoughts, but her mind kept drifting back to Draco's smirk, the way his fingers had brushed her hair away, and the intensity in his eyes.

As the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, she glanced up to see a group of Slytherin students passing by on their way to the Great Hall. Shaking off the lingering confusion, Esmie fell into step with the flow of students, heading toward the Great Hall herself, but even as she walked, her thoughts remained tangled with the memory of Draco's unexpected closeness, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something between them had just shifted — whether for better or worse, she couldn't yet say.

"Mie!" Enzo's familiar voice echoed down the hallway as he spotted her, weaving through the throng of students with Theo by his side. His face lit up the moment his eyes landed on her, and he quickened his pace, slipping past a group of younger students to reach her. Without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight, warm hug, lifting her off her feet slightly as he embraced her. Esmie felt a sense of comfort wash over her, the tension that had built up in her chest slowly fading in the warmth of his presence.

"Finally caught you," Enzo murmured playfully as he set her back down, his arms lingering around her for a moment before he stepped back.

Theo, not far behind, joined them with his usual teasing grin. "I think you're in the wrong common room, Grisky," he said, leaning casually against the wall, his tone carrying that cheeky edge Esmie had come to expect from him.

Esmie shot him a smirk in return. "I'm not in any common room, actually, Theodore," she quipped, emphasising his full name as if she were scolding him.

Theo let out a soft laugh. "Touché," he said, shaking his head with amusement. He didn't get the chance to continue his teasing, though, as Elsie's voice called out from further down the hall.

"Theo, are you coming?"

With a quick farewell, Theo waved to Enzo and Esmie before hurrying off toward Elsie, who was waiting for him with an impatient expression. The two of them soon disappeared in the direction of the Great Hall, leaving Esmie and Enzo standing alone in the corridor.

Once they were gone, Enzo turned back to Esmie, a look of gentle concern crossing his features as he studied her. "What are you doing down here?" he asked softly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of worry.

Esmie hesitated, biting her lip as she considered what to tell him. She trusted Enzo more than anyone, but the thought of saying it out loud felt daunting. Finally, she sighed and met his gaze. "I ... I was going to see Snape," she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "But I — I couldn't bring myself to walk into that room."

For a moment, Enzo didn't say anything. Instead, he reached out and gently slid his hand into hers, squeezing her fingers reassuringly. His silent support was enough to ease the tension in her shoulders, and she squeezed his hand back, grateful for his presence.

"You were going to see Snape?" Enzo asked, his tone soft but surprised. He knew that Esmie didn't have the best relationship with their Potions professor, and the idea of her willingly seeking him out was unexpected.

"Yes," Esmie nodded, though her voice wavered slightly. "But it's not important anymore. I decided against it." She shook her head as if to push the thought away. "Come on, let's go to the Great Hall. I'm starving."

Enzo didn't press the issue any further. He gave her hand one last squeeze before letting go, falling into step beside her as they made their way through the winding corridors of the castle toward the Great Hall.

"So, how was Quidditch practice?" Enzo asked after a few moments of comfortable silence, his tone lighter now as they approached the bustling noise of the Hall.

"Well, I wasn't playing today — just watching the try-outs," Esmie explained with a shrug. "It was freezing out there, though. I came back to the castle to grab a jumper, and... well, you know the rest."

Enzo chuckled softly and nudged her playfully with his elbow. "You didn't take a jumper with you? That's not like you, Mie."

Esmie rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. "No, I didn't. I was just wearing this," she said, tugging at the sleeve of her thin long-sleeved shirt. The fabric was soft but clearly not made for the cold winds that swept across the Quidditch pitch.

"Oh, Mie," Enzo said with a soft chuckle, his voice full of affection. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her again, this time pulling her into a quick but firm hug. The warmth of his body was a welcome contrast to the chill that still clung to her skin, and for a moment, she allowed herself to relax completely into the embrace.

Esmie smiled as she pulled away from him, her cheeks slightly flushed. "You're always looking out for me," she teased lightly.

"Someone has to," Enzo replied with a wink, his grin wide and genuine. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Yeah, see you later," Esmie said, waving goodbye as Enzo headed off toward the Slytherin table. She made her way over to join her own friends at the Gryffindor table, slipping into her usual seat with a quiet sigh of relief. The familiar warmth of the Great Hall enveloped her, and the sound of laughter and chatter from her fellow students helped ease her lingering tension.

"Hi, Esmie!" Hope greeted her with a bright smile as she sat down. Grace glanced up from her plate, and the moment her eyes landed on Esmie, a mischievous glint appeared in her gaze.

"You're blushing," Grace teased, her grin widening as she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.

"I am not," Esmie protested quickly, though she could feel the warmth still lingering in her cheeks.

"Oh, but you are," Grace continued, her tone singsong as she exchanged a look with Hope. "Does this have anything to do with whatever you were up to just now?"

Esmie shrugged, trying to keep her expression neutral. "I was just getting a jumper," she said casually, but her mind wasn't on her words. It kept drifting back to her earlier encounter with Draco in the hallway — the way he had stood so close to her, the way his hand had brushed against her face so unexpectedly. Her stomach fluttered at the memory, though she quickly pushed the thought away.

She glanced over at the Slytherin table, scanning for Draco, but he was gone—no sign of him anywhere. Instead, her eyes found Enzo, who was sitting with a few of his friends, laughing at something Theo had said. When he caught her looking, he smiled at her, his dark eyes full of warmth and familiarity. The butterflies in her stomach stirred again, but this time they were gentler, more comforting.

Esmie smiled back at him before turning her attention to the conversation happening at her own table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were deep in discussion about the recent Quidditch trials, and she tried to focus on their words.

"Hermione —" Harry began, his tone accusatory.

"What? Ron wasn't going to make the team without a little help," Hermione said with a small shrug, as if what she had done was no big deal.

"What happened?" Esmie asked, curious as to what Hermione had done.

"Hermione used the Confundus Charm on Cormac McLaggen, so he'd miss the Quaffle and ruin his chances of making the team," Hope explained, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I'm quite proud of our Hermione," Grace added with a grin, her gaze flicking to Hermione, who was trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione?" Esmie teased, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

Hermione huffed, but there was a small smile on her lips. "Cormac deserved it."

Hope nodded in agreement. "He did."

The conversation flowed easily from there, with the group laughing and joking about the trials, Cormac's arrogance, and Ron's shaky but successful try-out. After they finished eating, the group headed back to the Gryffindor common room, where the fire crackled warmly in the hearth. Esmie, Hope, and Grace gathered around a table to play Exploding Snap while Ron, Hermione, and Harry settled into their usual seats, each of them absorbed in their own reading.

Every now and then, Ron would glance up from his book, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "I have to admit, I thought I was going to miss that last save," Ron said at one point, his tone casual as if he hadn't been worrying about it the entire time.

"He's been obsessing about that Quaffle ever since the trial ended," Grace whispered conspiratorially to Esmie, a mischievous grin playing on her lips.

"Maybe Hermione should've just let him miss it," Hope whispered back with a smirk.

"Cormac has a bit of a thing for you, Hermione," Ron said suddenly, breaking the quiet and earning a raised eyebrow from Hermione.

"He's vile," Hermione replied flatly, flipping another page in her book.

Grace leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a grin. "Besides, Hope, Esmie, and I would never let you date someone like Cormac."

"Absolutely not," Hope agreed with a nod.

Harry, clearly uninterested in their discussion about Hermione's love life, glanced up from the book he had been reading. "Ever heard of this spell?" he asked, showing Hermione a page, he had marked.

Grace groaned dramatically. "Harry, we were having a very important conversation about Hermione's dating prospects, and you choose now to talk about spells?"

"Grace," Hermione warned, though she couldn't hide the hint of a smile. She glanced at the spell Harry was showing her. "No, I haven't, and if you had any self-respect, you'd turn that book in."

"Or" Hope interjected, grinning mischievously, "he could keep the book and share it with the rest of us so we can all be top students in Potions."

"I like the way you think, Hope," Grace agreed, her eyes twinkling.

Esmie chuckled. "Or Harry could just turn the book in," she suggested teasingly, though her curiosity about the mysterious book was growing.

"Not likely," Ron said with a laugh. "He's top of the class — even better than Esmie or Hermione. Slughorn thinks he's a genius."

Grace raised an eyebrow. "Nice going, Ron," she said sarcastically. "You're really helping keep the peace."

"What?" Ron looked genuinely confused.

Hermione, her competitive nature flaring slightly, reached for the book. "I'd like to know whose book that was. Let's look, shall we?"

Harry pulled it away before she could get her hands on it. "No."

"Why not?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"The binding is fragile," Harry said quickly, moving the book out of her reach again.

Esmie laughed. "Come on, Harry, that's the worst excuse I've ever heard."

Before anyone else could grab it, Ginny swooped in and snatched the book from Harry's hands. She flipped it open and read the inscription inside. "Who's the Half-Blood Prince?"

"The who?" Harry asked, his confusion evident.

"That's what it says," Ginny replied, pointing to the writing. "This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince."

Esmie frowned as she looked at the book, her curiosity piqued. "The Half-Blood Prince?" she murmured to herself, wondering just who could have owned the mysterious book that had seemingly propelled Harry to the top of the class in Potions.

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While there will be scenes in line with the Harry Potter movies, there will also be quite a few changes to fit with my planned storyline.

Enjoy! Xo

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