In third-year halls, their paths first crossed,
A Raven boy, a Blonde girl lost.
"Stay out of my way," she warned with a glare,
But something lingered in the frosty air.
Crimson with his scar and fame,
Emerald with her secrets untamed.
Two worlds ap...
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August 26, 1993
"Hey there!" I called out, my voice laced with a forced cheerfulness that even I could hear. "I'm Ariannabelle. Well, that's my full name, but everyone just calls me Aria." I hesitated for a second, feeling the words catch in my throat. "Tomorrow's my thirteenth birthday. I should be getting ready to start my third year at Hogwarts, buying new robes, restocking my potions ingredients, maybe even picking out a new wand if my old one had snapped or something."
I let out a bitter laugh and shook my head. "But I won't be. Because I can't go." My stomach twisted as I forced myself to say the next words, the ones that always left a hollow ache inside me. "Because I'm a squib."
The word hung in the air like a curse, like some shameful secret I should have been hiding instead of admitting out loud. I looked down at the wooden floor beneath my feet, tracing the familiar cracks between the boards with my gaze as I shuffled my socked foot over them. "Yeah. Squib. It's what people like me are called—people born into magical families who, for some unfair, cruel reason, don't have any magic of their own. My family is full of witches and wizards, and then there's me. The odd one out. The failure."
I bit my lip, feeling a familiar heat rise behind my eyes, but I refused to cry. Not again. Not over this. I was used to it by now—at least, I should have been.
"Even my appearance sets me apart," I went on, my voice quieter now, almost like I was confessing something. "Everyone else in my family has dark brown hair and warm, peachy skin. Meanwhile, I look like some kind of ghost or... or a vampire or something." I glanced at the mirror hanging on the wall and saw my own reflection staring back. My hair was so pale it was almost white, falling in loose waves around my face, and my skin was so fair it practically glowed in dim lighting. "Mum and Dad say it's just a rare genetic thing. But sometimes, I feel like it's more than that. Like I was never really meant to belong here at all."
I sighed and rubbed my arms, trying to shake off the cold sensation creeping up my spine.
"I've always been different from them," I muttered, my fingers tightening into fists. "Always been the one who doesn't fit in. But the worst part? Living in my brother Toby's shadow."
My stomach twisted at the thought of him—of how perfect he seemed, how effortlessly he belonged in the world I so desperately wanted to be part of. "Everyone always compares us. 'Oh, Toby was already excelling at Charms by the time he was your age! Toby was top of his class in Transfiguration! Toby this, Toby that—'" I clenched my jaw. "It drives me insane. Every time he talks about Hogwarts—about how wonderful it is, how much fun he's having—it feels like a knife twisting in my heart."
I was about to say more, to finally vent all of the pent-up frustration bubbling inside me, when—
