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》 ‹ 03: a new beginning

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☽ ➶ ｡˚ —— ❝ is everyone in ilvermorny as quiet as you? ❞

——— (( 𖠄 )) ———

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HOGWARTS

SEPTEMBER 1st, 1993

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THE CRISP MORNING AIR OF September first was heavy with the scent of damp grass and distant pine. Gwen stood in the shadow of Hogwarts, her scruffy black cat Sirius tucked securely under her arm in his basket. She hadn't taken the Hogwarts Express—how could she, when Hogsmeade was practically a stone's throw away? Instead, Dumbledore had suggested a more understated arrival via one of the castle's side gates.

Now, as she stared up at the towering spires of the castle she'd only ever seen in her imagination, the reality of it all hit her like a bludger to the chest.

"Well," Dumbledore said, his voice pulling her from her thoughts, "I imagine this view is familiar, yet different from what you expected."

"That's one way to put it," Gwen muttered. Her voice was dry, but her fingers trembled slightly as they clutched the basket. "It's... a lot."

"A good kind of 'a lot,' I hope?"

Gwen snorted, her nerves getting the better of her. "Jury's still out on that one."

The headmaster chuckled, then gestured toward the grand wooden doors. "Come, Gwen. There's no sense standing out here when there's much to be done inside."

The closer they got, the more Gwen's stomach churned. It wasn't just the sheer size of the castle or the idea of walking its halls that overwhelmed her—it was the knowledge of who would be inside. Harry Potter. Hermione Granger. Ron Weasley. The golden trio, living and breathing and completely unaware of the storm that was Gwen's arrival.

As they entered the castle, the familiar hum of magic enveloped her. The Entrance Hall stretched wide and high, its stone walls glowing in the torchlight. She had imagined it so many times, but seeing it in person left her momentarily speechless.

"Bit bigger than I thought," she said finally, her voice echoing slightly.

"It does have a way of making one feel rather small," Dumbledore agreed, his eyes twinkling.

The sound of footsteps drew her attention, and she turned to see Professor McGonagall approaching, her robes billowing behind her. Her stern expression softened slightly when she spotted Gwen.

"Ah, there you are," McGonagall said briskly, her sharp eyes flicking to Dumbledore. "I trust everything went smoothly?"

"As smoothly as one could hope," Dumbledore replied.

McGonagall nodded before turning her attention fully to Gwen. "Miss... Gwen, is it?"

Gwen nodded, trying not to look too much like a deer caught in headlights. "Yes, ma'am."

"You'll be starting as a third-year," McGonagall continued, her tone brisk but not unkind. "I'll need to sort you into a house before the Welcoming Feast. Have you been briefed on what that entails?"

Gwen swallowed hard. "You mean the Sorting Hat?"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, but Dumbledore stepped in smoothly. "She's quite resourceful, Minerva. I daresay she's done her research."

Gwen offered a weak smile, grateful for the headmaster's intervention.

"Very well," McGonagall said, her tone indicating she wasn't entirely convinced. "Come with me, then. The rest of the students will arrive shortly, and I'd like to have you sorted before the ceremony begins."

Dumbledore gave her a reassuring nod before heading toward the Great Hall. Gwen watched him go, feeling a pang of panic.

"Let's get this over with," McGonagall said, leading Gwen through a side corridor and up a narrow staircase.

The Sorting Hat was waiting on a small stool in an empty chamber. It looked as worn and weathered as it had in the books, its brim drooping slightly like it had seen better days.

"Sit," McGonagall instructed, gesturing to the stool.

Gwen's heart thudded as she perched on the edge, the hat slipping over her eyes a moment later.

"Well, well," a voice drawled in her ear. "What have we here? A curious mind, brimming with secrets..."

"Great," Gwen muttered under her breath. "I'm being psychoanalyzed by a hat."

The Sorting Hat chuckled. "And you've a sharp tongue, too. Interesting... very interesting. You've the courage of a Gryffindor, no doubt. But also the cunning of a Slytherin. Not to mention the intellect of a Ravenclaw. Hmm. Where to put you?"

"I don't know," Gwen thought desperately. "Somewhere I won't stick out too much?"

The hat laughed again, the sound deep and gravelly. "Oh, my dear, I'm afraid you'll stick out no matter where you go. But I believe I know just the place... Better be—"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The hat's shout echoed through the chamber, and Gwen let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Off you go," McGonagall said, retrieving the hat. "You'll be escorted to the common room with the rest of your housemates after the feast."

Gwen nodded mutely, her thoughts racing as McGonagall led her toward the Great Hall. Gryffindor. She was going to be in the same house as Harry Potter.

The weight of that realization hit her just as they stepped into the Great Hall, the golden glow of the enchanted ceiling casting everything in an almost surreal light.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Gwen," McGonagall said, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Gwen took a deep breath, clutching Sirius's basket a little tighter. "Thanks," she said softly, her gaze sweeping the room.

The Great Hall was buzzing with activity. Professors milled about, making final preparations for the arrival of the students, and the enchanted ceiling reflected the darkening sky outside, speckled with stars. Gwen hovered by the entrance, clutching Sirius's basket like a lifeline.

"Best to sit yourself at the Gryffindor table," McGonagall had advised briskly before disappearing toward the staff dais. "The Sorting will proceed shortly."

The Gryffindor table was easy enough to spot—its red and gold decorations practically screamed hero central. Gwen scanned the long benches and chose a spot near the middle, hoping to blend in. She slid into her seat, her hands gripping the basket tightly as she tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible.

The quiet didn't last long.

A rush of noise and laughter spilled through the doors as students began streaming into the hall. Gwen's heart pounded as the tables filled, the Gryffindor table growing livelier by the second. She kept her head down, pretending to rummage in her bag while sneaking glances at the faces around her.

It didn't take long to spot them.

Harry Potter. Ron Weasley. Hermione Granger. They were unmistakable. Harry's untidy black hair and lightning bolt scar, Ron's tall, gangly frame and vivid red hair, Hermione's bushy brown curls and sharp, alert gaze. They walked in together, their dynamic as natural as if they'd been born a trio.

"Oh, Merlin," Gwen muttered under her breath, her stomach twisting into knots.

"Who's that?"

The question came from Ron, who was squinting at her as they approached. Gwen stiffened, her mind racing. Blend in. Stay cool. You've read enough fics to know how to handle this.

Harry's green eyes flicked toward her, his curiosity evident. "Dunno," he said, his voice light but carrying an edge of interest.

Hermione, naturally, looked the most intrigued. "She must be new," she reasoned, her gaze sweeping over Gwen's Hogwarts robes. "I don't recognize her."

By the time they reached the table, Gwen was already debating the best escape routes. Unfortunately, the trio chose to sit directly across from her.

"Hi," Harry said, his tone friendly but cautious.

Gwen glanced up, her face warm as she tried to appear nonchalant. "Hey."

Ron tilted his head. "Are you a third-year? I don't remember seeing you last term."

"I, uh..." Gwen faltered. She hadn't prepared for this moment—at all. "I just transferred," she said quickly, remembering Dumbledore's cover story.

"Transferred?" Hermione's brows knit together. "That's unusual. Hogwarts doesn't often get transfer students."

"Yeah," Ron said, leaning forward. "Where from?"

Oh no. Oh no. Gwen's mind blanked, panic setting in. Finally, she blurted out, "America."

Harry's expression brightened with curiosity. "Really? That's cool. What school were you at before?"

Gwen racked her brain, her pulse hammering in her ears. Only one name came to mind. "Uh... Ilvermorny."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Ilvermorny? The American wizarding school? That's fascinating! I've read about it in Magical Institutions of the World. What house were you in?"

Houses? Oh, come on! Gwen cursed herself for not paying more attention to the lore in the Fantastic Beasts movies. "Thunderbird," she said hesitantly, recalling the one that sounded vaguely heroic.

Harry smiled, his interest clearly piqued. "So, what's Ilvermorny like?"

"Um..." Gwen's palms were sweating now. "Pretty, uh, big. A lot like Hogwarts, I guess. Only, y'know, with more... eagles."

Ron looked skeptical but didn't press further. Hermione seemed satisfied, though she was still watching Gwen like she was a particularly interesting puzzle. Harry, meanwhile, had barely taken his eyes off her, and Gwen couldn't decide if that was flattering or terrifying.

"So," Ron said, his tone shifting, "what's in the basket?"

"Oh!" Gwen felt a wave of relief at the change in subject. She opened the lid slightly, revealing Sirius's amber eyes peering out.

"It's my cat. His name's Sirius."

The reaction was immediate.

"Sirius?" Harry's voice was sharp, his friendly expression turning wary.

"Yeah," Gwen said slowly, realizing her mistake too late. "Why?"

Hermione leaned closer, her brow furrowed. "You named your cat after Sirius Black? The man who escaped from Azkaban?"

Gwen's heart sank. "I, uh... no? I mean, yes? But not—look, it's not because of that," she stammered. "It's just a name. I didn't know about... you know, him." Lies, lies, all lies.

The tension at the table was palpable.

"Bit of a weird coincidence, isn't it?" Ron muttered, glancing warily at the basket.

Harry, however, seemed to be scrutinizing Gwen more closely now. "You didn't know about Sirius Black?" he asked, his tone careful.

"I... don't really follow the news," Gwen said weakly, trying to backpedal.

Hermione exchanged a look with Harry, but before anyone could press further, the battered old Sorting Hat, now perched on a stool in the center of the hall, twitched. A wide tear near the brim opened like a mouth, and it began to sing:

"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The students who hadn't yet been sorted were called up one by one, and Gwen watched with detached interest as the hat sorted them into their houses. When the Sorting ended, Dumbledore rose from his seat at the staff table, his calm presence commanding immediate attention.

"Good evening, and welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" Dumbledore's voice carried easily across the hall, warm and commanding. His eyes twinkled as he surveyed the sea of students. "Before we begin our feast, there are a few announcements to make. First, as many of you are aware, we are joined this year by a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Remus Lupin."

A gentle smattering of applause rippled through the hall as a tired-looking man with sandy brown hair and shabby robes inclined his head politely. Gwen recognized him instantly and felt a jolt of excitement. The Marauders. The Shrieking Shack. The Patronus lessons. This year is going to be insane.

"Secondly," Dumbledore continued, "our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you all that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits, as are certain items from Zonko's Joke Shop."

A few students chuckled, but Dumbledore's expression grew more serious. "And finally, as a precautionary measure, you may notice that Hogwarts will have an increased security presence this term. This is due to recent events involving Sirius Black, who—"

Gwen tuned out for a moment, her pulse spiking at the mention of the infamous escaped prisoner. She knew exactly why Sirius Black was important, but there was something surreal about hearing his name spoken in such a matter-of-fact way.

Dumbledore's voice brought Gwen back to the present.

"—Rest assured, the Ministry and Hogwarts staff are doing everything in their power to ensure your safety. Dementors from Azkaban will be stationed at the school entrances and patrolling the grounds."

A murmur rippled through the hall, the collective unease of the students almost tangible. Gwen shivered involuntarily, her own unease matching the others'. Dementors. Those horrible, soul-sucking things are going to be here?

Dumbledore's tone softened as if sensing the tension. "However, I must impress upon you all that Dementors are not to be approached under any circumstances. They will not distinguish between a loyal student and an escaped convict. Please give them no reason to interfere with your daily lives."

Gwen swallowed hard. She hadn't even seen a Dementor yet, and she already hated them.

"And now," Dumbledore said, a twinkle returning to his eyes as he spread his arms wide, "let us eat!"

With a wave of his hands, the empty tables were suddenly laden with food. Platters of roast chicken, bowls of steaming potatoes, trays of sausages, and every other imaginable dish appeared as if by magic—which, of course, it was.

The hall erupted in laughter and conversation as students eagerly began piling their plates. Gwen's stomach growled at the sight, reminding her that she hadn't eaten much all day.

"Brilliant, isn't it?" Ron said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

Gwen managed a smile as she reached for a roll. "Definitely beats cafeteria food."

"What's a cafeteria?" Ron asked, looking genuinely baffled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's what Muggles call their dining halls."

"Oh," Ron said, shoveling more food onto his plate. "Weird word for it."

Gwen chuckled softly and took a bite of her roll. As she ate, she couldn't help but steal glances at Harry. He was quieter than she'd expected, though he seemed comfortable enough joking with Ron and Hermione. She wondered how long it would take before the weight of Sirius Black's escape started to weigh on him.

"You'll want to try the treacle tart," Hermione said, pulling Gwen from her thoughts. "It's Harry's favorite."

Harry blinked at the mention of his name. "What? Oh, yeah—it's really good."

Gwen hesitated, then grabbed a slice of the tart. "Thanks," she said, trying not to sound too awkward.

Conversation flowed easily between the trio, with Gwen mostly listening and occasionally adding a comment. She found herself relaxing despite her nerves, the easy camaraderie at the table oddly comforting.

"So," Ron said, leaning forward as he reached for another sausage, "is everyone in Ilvermorny as quiet as you?"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped.

Gwen smirked. "No, just me. I'm special like that."

Ron grinned. "Fair enough. Still, you're not bad company—for a quiet one."

"Thanks... I think?"

The feast stretched on, and Gwen began to lose herself in the atmosphere. It was impossible not to be swept up in the magic of it all—the enchanted ceiling, the warmth of the Great Hall, the feeling of belonging.

But deep down, she couldn't shake the nagging thought that this wasn't just a feast, or even just a school year. This was the beginning of something much bigger, and she had no idea what role she was meant to play in it.

All she knew was that things were about to get complicated. And fast.

——— (( 𖠄 )) ———

THE TREK TO THE GRYFFINDOR Tower was an experience Gwen hadn't quite prepared for. The winding staircases, the talking portraits, the bustling chatter of dozens of students—everything felt surreal, even overwhelming. Yet, with Hermione and Ron bickering over the best way to navigate the moving staircases and Harry quietly laughing at their antics, she found herself surprisingly at ease.

By the time they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Gwen's legs were starting to ache.

"Password?" the portrait demanded, her voice musical yet firm.

"Fortuna Major," Percy Weasley announced grandly, his prefect badge gleaming on his chest. The portrait swung open, revealing a circular hole in the wall.

Gwen followed the other Gryffindors inside and immediately felt a wave of warmth and comfort wash over her. The common room was just as cozy as she'd imagined, with its roaring fireplace, squashy armchairs, and tapestries that seemed to hum with magic.

"It's amazing," she murmured, clutching Sirius's basket tightly as she took it all in.

Ron, who had flopped onto the nearest couch, grinned. "Told you Gryffindor was the best."

Hermione rolled her eyes but didn't argue. "Come on, Gwen, I'll show you the dormitory. You'll want to get settled before tomorrow."

Gwen followed Hermione up a spiraling staircase labeled Girls, leaving the boys behind in the common room. The dormitory was just as inviting as the rest of the tower, with its red and gold decor, four-poster beds, and softly glowing lanterns. Gwen's bed had already been prepared, her trunk waiting at its foot, courtesy of Dumbledore's efficiency.

"You'll be sharing with us," Hermione said, gesturing to the beds nearest Gwen's. "Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown sleep here too."

As if on cue, two girls appeared, their chatter filling the room.

"Oh, you must be the new girl!" Lavender said brightly, her blond curls bouncing as she approached. "I'm Lavender. And this is Parvati."

Parvati, a dark-haired girl with warm brown eyes, gave Gwen a friendly smile. "Welcome to Gryffindor. How are you finding Hogwarts so far?"

Gwen offered a tentative smile. "It's... a lot to take in. But it's great. Thanks."

"Well, if you need anything, just ask," Lavender said, already turning her attention back to Parvati as they started giggling about something Gwen couldn't catch.

Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Don't mind them. They're harmless but a bit excitable."

Gwen smiled faintly, setting Sirius's basket on her bed and opening it. The black cat stretched lazily before hopping out, his tail flicking as he surveyed the room like he owned it.

"Oh, he's adorable!" Lavender squealed, rushing over. "What's his name?"

"Sirius," Gwen said, bracing herself for the inevitable reaction.

Sure enough, Parvati's eyebrows shot up. "After Sirius Black?"

"It's... a coincidence," Gwen lied, feeling her cheeks warm. "I didn't name him after that Sirius."

Lavender looked skeptical but didn't press the issue, instead cooing at Sirius as he hopped onto Gwen's bed and curled up.

The night stretched on, the dormitory settling into a comfortable rhythm of quiet conversations and soft laughter. As Gwen changed into her borrowed pajamas and climbed into bed, she couldn't help but feel a pang of unease.

Tomorrow, classes would start. She would face her first lessons in magic, her first real test of whether she could survive in this world.

Curling under the warm blankets, Gwen glanced at Sirius, who was purring contentedly at her feet.

"Here we go," she murmured to herself, closing her eyes.

——— (( 𖠄 )) ———

THE FIRST RAYS OF SUNLIGHT streamed through the dormitory windows, casting a warm glow on the red and gold hangings of Gwen's four-poster bed. She blinked awake, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. Then it all came rushing back—Hogwarts, Gryffindor, the Sorting Hat, and today...

Classes.

The thought sent a jolt of both excitement and nerves through her. She was supposed to be a third-year transfer from Ilvermorny, but she felt more like a spy with too much insider knowledge. Her gaze drifted to Sirius, curled up beside her, his tail twitching in his sleep.

"Better get up," Hermione said, already dressed and straightening her tie in the mirror. "Breakfast starts soon, and we'll get our timetables."

"Right," Gwen mumbled, throwing off the covers. She dressed quickly, slipping into her new robes and tying her Gryffindor tie with only a little fumbling.

By the time they made it down to the common room, Harry and Ron were waiting. Ron looked half-asleep, while Harry was trying to flatten his perpetually messy hair.

"Ready?" Hermione asked briskly, ushering them all toward the portrait hole.

The Great Hall was bustling with activity when they arrived, the tables laden with breakfast foods. Gwen slid into her seat beside Hermione, helping herself to toast and eggs.

"Here she comes," Hermione whispered, nodding toward the staff table.

Sure enough, Professor McGonagall was making her way down the Gryffindor table, handing out timetables to each student. Gwen couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness as McGonagall reached their group.

"Miss Collins," McGonagall said, handing Gwen her timetable. "I trust you'll adjust to the curriculum quickly."

"Yes, Professor," Gwen said, doing her best to sound confident.

Gwen scanned the parchment. Her schedule matched Harry and Ron's perfectly.

Hermione's schedule, however, seemed... suspicious. Gwen frowned. "You're taking that many classes?"

Hermione hurriedly stuffed her timetable into her bag. "I have it all worked out," she said briskly. "Don't worry about me."

Gwen smirked knowingly but said nothing. She had a pretty good idea of how Hermione was pulling it off, but it wasn't her secret to reveal.

"Oh, brilliant," Ron muttered, glancing at his timetable. "Care of Magical Creatures with the snakes on the first day. Just what I wanted."

"At least we start with Divination," Hermione said, though her tone was skeptical. "I'm curious to see what it's like."

Gwen hid a smile, knowing Hermione's opinion of the subject would sour soon enough. "What's Divination?" She asked, playing dumb despite already knowing exactly what to expect.

"It's where you learn to read tea leaves and crystal balls and stuff," Ron explained, shoveling eggs into his mouth. "Apparently, it's a load of rubbish."

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "You haven't even been to a class yet."

"Yeah, but Fred and George said—"

"Fred and George aren't exactly reliable sources," Hermione interrupted.

When breakfast ended, the third-years gathered in the Entrance Hall. Professor McGonagall led them to a narrow, winding staircase that spiraled up toward a tower Gwen had only seen in illustrations.

"The Divination classroom," McGonagall announced, her tone neutral, "is at the top of this staircase. Be mindful of your footing, and I trust you will all conduct yourselves appropriately."

With that, she swept away, her emerald robes billowing behind her.

Ron stared at the staircase. "Do we really have to climb all the way up there?"

"Afraid so," Harry said, adjusting his bag.

"It's good exercise," Hermione said briskly, already starting up.

Gwen followed, her heart pounding as they climbed. She didn't remember the books mentioning just how steep the stairs were—or how narrow.

Finally, they reached a trapdoor at the top. Hermione pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit room filled with the smell of incense and the clinking of beads.

The Divination classroom was everything Gwen had imagined: small, circular, and cluttered with round tables, squashy armchairs, and shelves overflowing with teacups, crystal balls, and strange charts. The thick, perfumed air made her head spin.

"Welcome," came a misty voice from the shadows. "Welcome to the noble art of Divination."

Professor Trelawney emerged, her enormous glasses magnifying her eyes to an unsettling degree. She moved like a specter, gliding between tables as the students settled into their seats.

"You have all chosen to study the most mysterious and ancient branch of magic," she intoned, her voice floating like smoke. "The art of seeing the future."

Ron shot Harry a look, and Gwen stifled a laugh. She could practically hear Ron's sarcastic thoughts from across the room.

"Now," Trelawney continued, "take your seats, my dears, and we shall begin by gazing into the beyond."

Gwen ended up at a table with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Trelawney handed each table a battered copy of Unfogging the Future.

"First, we shall begin with the reading of tea leaves," Trelawney said, gesturing dramatically to the teacups arranged on their table. "You will see in the leaves the patterns of your destiny. One partner will drink, the other will interpret."

Ron picked up a teacup and sniffed it. "Smells like feet."

"Just drink it," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

Ron grimaced but downed the tea, leaving a soggy pile of leaves in the bottom of the cup. He handed it to Harry. 

Gwen partnered with Hermione, who was already flipping through their textbook.

"Do you actually believe any of this?" Gwen asked as she poured hot water into Hermione's cup.

Hermione pursed her lips. "It's not a very exact science, is it? More guesswork than anything. But... I suppose it's part of our education."

When it was Gwen's turn to read Hermione's cup, she swirled the remaining tea leaves as instructed and peered into the patterns left behind.

"Hmm..." she said, tilting the cup dramatically. "I see... a very busy timetable."

Hermione laughed. "Amazing. How ever did you know?"

Trelawney swooped down on them suddenly, her eyes wide behind her glasses. "What have you seen, my dear?"

Gwen held up the cup with an exaggerated frown. "Lots of squiggly lines," she deadpanned.

Trelawney tutted and grabbed the cup, holding it to the light. "Ah! A serpent... a symbol of danger. Beware, my dear, for danger looms close at hand."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but Gwen smirked. "Noted," she said.

Across the room, Ron stared at Harry's cup, squinting. "t's... uh... a sheep."

"It's a dog," Gwen said without thinking, leaning over to look.

Ron blinked at her. "How can you tell?"

Gwen shrugged, forcing herself to look casual. "Just lucky, I guess. See the ears?"

Trelawney appeared beside them, her presence as sudden as a gust of wind. She peered into Harry's cup, her eyes widening dramatically. "Oh, my dear boy," she whispered, "you have the Grim."

The table fell silent.

"The Grim?" Harry repeated, his face pale.

"The Grim," Trelawney said, her voice quivering with theatrical flair. "The omen of death."

Gwen bit her tongue to keep from blurting out the truth—Trelawney's tendency to exaggerate. Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable, while Hermione seemed unimpressed.

"I don't see anything," Hermione said flatly, leaning over to inspect the cup.

"You don't have the right aura, my dear," Trelawney said with a faint smile, drifting away to the next table.

The room fell silent, all eyes on Harry. Gwen felt her stomach twist. The Grim. She knew exactly what it was—and what it wasn't.

"Well, that's cheerful," Ron muttered.

Harry shrugged it off, though he looked unsettled. Gwen shot him a small, reassuring smile. She knew there was much more to come, but for now, all she could do was take it one class at a time.

. . .