╰┈➤ ❝ [𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝐻𝑅𝐸𝐸] ❞ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
⁺⤾·˚.⃗.  [ ᴛʜᴇ sɪʟᴇɴᴛ ᴏʙsᴇʀᴠᴇʀ ] 𑁍ࠜೄ ･ﾟˊˎ
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

The Great Hall
( September, 1993. )

                   𝓔sme sat quietly at the Slytherin table, nestled between Draco and Pansy, with Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode across from her. Blaise, Theodore, Crabbe, and Goyle filled the remaining seats. Laughter and conversation swirled around her, but Esme merely listened, picking at her food. She wasn't particularly interested in the banter, though she occasionally glanced at her peers to feign attentiveness.

Her gaze shifted slightly as she noticed movement from the Gryffindor table. Harry Potter kept turning his head, glancing behind him at their table. She frowned subtly, unsure if he was looking at her or simply distracted by the commotion surrounding them.

Before she could dwell on it, Dumbledore rose from his seat, commanding the room's attention.
"Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," he began, his voice carrying easily over the noise. "Now, I'd like to say a few words... before we all become too befuddled by our excellent feast. First, I'm pleased to welcome Professor R.J. Lupin, who's kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Good luck, professor."

Polite applause rippled through the hall, but Esme's attention was drawn back to Harry as Draco suddenly straightened beside her, his expression twisting into a smug sneer.

"Potter," Draco called loudly, drawing the attention of several nearby students. "Is it true you fainted? I mean, you actually fainted?"

Esme inhaled sharply, tension creeping into her shoulders at the confrontation. She didn't speak, her hands tightening slightly on the edge of the table.

At the Gryffindor table, Ron immediately came to Harry's defense, glaring at Draco. "Shove off, Malfoy," he snapped, draping an arm protectively around Harry's shoulders and physically turning him back toward their group.

Draco let out a quiet, derisive laugh, clearly pleased with himself, but Esme remained silent. Her eyes flickered briefly toward Harry before returning to her plate, her appetite entirely gone.

Dumbledore raised his hands slightly, silencing the whispers and chatter that had started to spread through the Great Hall. His expression remained calm, though his words carried a weight that made the room grow still.

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher has decided to retire," he continued, "in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs." A smattering of laughter broke out, lightening the mood briefly. "Fortunately, I'm delighted to announce that his place will be taken by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid."

A round of applause erupted, led enthusiastically by the Gryffindor table. Esme glanced toward Hagrid, who sat beaming at the head table, his massive hands clapping together. She couldn't help but smile faintly at his visible pride.

Dumbledore's tone shifted then, becoming more serious, and the hall fell silent once again. "Finally, on a more disquieting note," he began, "at the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will, until further notice, play host to the dementors of Azkaban until such a time as Sirius Black is captured."

A ripple of unease swept through the students. Esme felt a chill creep down her spine at the mention of dementors, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. Around her, the Slytherins exchanged uneasy looks, though Draco simply scoffed under his breath, muttering something about the Ministry's incompetence.

"The dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore explained. "Now whilst I've been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities, a word of caution: dementors are vicious creatures. They will not distinguish between the one they hunt and the one who gets in their way. Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you."

Esme's hands clenched slightly in her lap as Dumbledore's words sank in. The idea of those creatures so close sent a shiver through her, and she tried to focus on his voice to steady herself.

"It is not in the nature of a dementor to be forgiving," Dumbledore continued solemnly. Then, his expression softened, and he added with quiet resolve, "But you know, happiness can be found even in the darkest of times if one only remembers to turn on the light."

A hush lingered in the hall as his words hung in the air. Then, gradually, the room returned to life as the students resumed their conversations, the tension easing slightly.

Esme exhaled slowly, glancing once more toward Harry. This time, he didn't look back, his focus fixed firmly on his plate as he spoke quietly to Ron and Hermione. She turned back to her own table, the chatter of her housemates washing over her like static. For now, she remained quiet, mulling over Dumbledore's warning and the unease it stirred within her.

At the Gryffindor table, Hermione leaned over, her voice barely above a whisper but still tinged with exasperation. "Harry, you really ought not to stare at her as often as you do. Draco doesn't like it."

Harry looked up from his plate, his brow furrowing. "I couldn't care less about what Draco Malfoy thinks, Hermione," he said firmly, rather aggressively stabbing a piece of potato with his fork.

Hermione sighed, glancing toward the Slytherin table where Esme Lestrange sat quietly, her demeanor as reserved as ever. "I just don't understand why you bother with Lestrange," she said, shaking her head. "She barely acknowledges you anyway."

Harry set his fork down, leaning back slightly. "She barely acknowledges anyone," he countered. "It's nothing against me personally."

Hermione frowned, clearly unconvinced. "Maybe, but she doesn't seem like someone who wants friends, Harry. You've been trying to get her attention for two years now. Why keep trying?"

Harry shrugged, his gaze flickering to Esme again. She was listening to something Draco was saying, but her expression was distant, as though she wasn't fully engaged. "There's more to her than people think," he said. "I don't know, I just... I think she's different from the rest of them."

Ron, who had been tearing into a drumstick, finally spoke up, his tone brimming with skepticism. "She's always with Malfoy and his lot. That ought to tell you everything you need to know about her, mate."

Harry's jaw tightened, and he shot Ron a pointed look. "Well, Ron, not that you'd understand, but I reckon he's the only family she's got."

Ron blinked, clearly taken aback, and Hermione's expression softened slightly, though her skepticism lingered.

"Family or not, Harry," Hermione said carefully, "that doesn't mean she's someone you should trust. You need to be careful."

Harry didn't respond right away, his gaze fixed on Esme. She might have been sitting with Malfoy, but there was a distance in her, even among her so-called friends. He couldn't explain why, but he felt like there was more to her story—and he wasn't ready to give up just yet.