In the candle-lit halls of Hogwarts, where magic stirs with every whisper, Harry Potter begins his first year - unaware that fate has woven another soul into his journey.
Elsa Scamander, silent as snowfall and powerful as a storm, arrives cloaked in...
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"Still chasing mooncalves?"
☆☆☆☆☆
Summer had been a whirlwind.
Asia shimmered with dragons, whispered with spirits, and offered us more than just magical creatures — it gave us new languages, new tastes, and an escape from the chaos of England.
We wrote to each other often. Harry and I. Our letters were a mess of doodles, half-jokes, and late-night secrets. I told him everything — the way Anna lost her shoe in Bhutan, how I nearly froze a mooncalf in Nepal. He told me how awful the Dursleys were and how he missed magic like he missed air.
But now, summer had folded its wings. And we were back.
In the Leaky Cauldron.
"Hi, Dad," I said as I plopped down at the dinner table, brushing soot from my robes.
"Hi, El. Harry came," Dad replied casually, as though he hadn't just dropped a firecracker in my tea.
"What? Really?" I said, perking up.
"Room 11," he added.
I was already gone.
I sprinted up the stairs, knocked once, and then — the door creaked open.
And there he was.
Harry James Potter had discovered puberty. Or maybe puberty discovered him. Either way, it hit like a bludger to the jaw.
"Hi, Harry," I said, smiling.
His eyes trailed down and back up — and lingered just a second too long.
"Eyes up here," I said, raising an eyebrow.
He flushed and pulled me into a hug — the kind you don't give to just anyone. The kind that says, I missed you more than I admitted in those letters.
We stepped inside.
"So... when did you get here?" I asked, settling on the edge of the bed.
Harry launched into the chaos: Aunt Marge flying like an overfed balloon, the Knight Bus, Stan Shunpike's endless chatter.
My jaw dropped. "You really lived a movie this summer, didn't you?"
"What about you?" he asked. "Still chasing mooncalves?"
"Oh, you know, Asia. Searching for magical beasts, hiking the Himalayas, and casually learning three new languages."
His eyes widened in mock horror. "Three?"
"French, Korean, and Hindi," I said proudly. "Want me to show off?"
He nodded, smirking.
"Salut." "Annyeonghaseyo." "Namaste." (I even did the hand gesture. Because why not?)
"That last one I know. Hermione tried teaching it last year," he said.
We wandered over to his stack of new schoolbooks — one of them looked suspiciously alive. He picked it up, flipped it open—
And it attacked.
Harry shrieked, grabbed my hand, and leapt onto the bed. I landed on top of him as the book thrashed around the floor like a deranged paper beast.
I stared down at him. He stared up at me. And suddenly the world paused. His breathing slowed. Mine too. He wasn't the awkward boy from last year anymore. And I... well, I wasn't a girl who waited to be rescued.
After a long second, we peeked over the bed edge. The book had calmed.
We tiptoed downstairs where chaos was already brewing. "Keep your wildcat away from my rat!" Ron shouted.
"What do you want me to do? It's his nature!" Hermione snapped.
They turned. Froze.
"Hi," Hermione said, smirking. She'd seen something.
"Hey, guys!" Anna added brightly — and also smirked. Double trouble.
Harry and I shared a look — we were both caught, and we knew it.
"Something happened," Hermione teased.
"Harry's monster book went rogue," I said quickly. "He didn't have his wand."
"Mmmhmm," Anna said, eyes twinkling. "Come on, let's eat."
Arthur took Harry aside for a quiet talk. I knew what it was about: Sirius Black. Azkaban's most notorious escapee. The man who sold out Lily and James. The traitor.
And now... he was after Harry.
I prayed every night that they caught him before he got close.
Harry returned and sat beside me. Our shoulders brushed. I didn't move.
The evening was warm with chatter — Ron's tales from Egypt, my stories from Asia.
"Okay, real question — who here likes Nutella?" Anna asked, suddenly serious.
"I do," I said.
"Me too!" Hermione beamed.
"I like it," Harry added.
Ron looked confused. "What is Nutella?"
We all laughed so loud Tom the Innkeeper dropped a tray.
▬▬ On the Hogwarts Express ▬▬
The platform was packed. Trunks rolled, owls hooted, chaos reigned.
Somehow, we all made it onto the train — though Ron nearly left his rat behind.
"RON, DON'T FORGET YOUR RAT!" Molly shouted, hurling Scabbers into his arms.
"You shouldn't have brought him," I muttered.
"Can everyone stop with the rat-hate?" Ron grumbled.
We found a compartment with just one sleeping man — disheveled, snoring, clearly a professor. The rest of the train was full.
So we sat.
Ron, Hermione, and Anna took one side. Harry and I took the other.
Beside the man. Close enough that our legs brushed.
The train rolled forward. Hogwarts awaited.
And just like that — Year 3 began.
☆☆☆☆☆☆
"Whatis Nutella?"
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