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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"Oooh, can you show us something with your magic?"
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ELSA POV
The start-of-term feast at Hogwarts was usually just that — a feast, with floating candles and pumpkin pasties, house tables and gossip. But this time, it buzzed with a different kind of anticipation. Something was coming. And judging by the way Dumbledore twinkled behind those half-moon spectacles, it was something big.
"Now that we are settled in and sorted, I'd like to make an announcement," Dumbledore began, standing with his usual grandfatherly calm.
"This castle will not only be your home this year, but home to some special guests as well. You see, Hogwarts has been chosen—"
The timing couldn't have been more dramatic. Filch, in his usual scurry of dusty robes and wheezes, came barreling down the aisle and leaned in to whisper urgently into Dumbledore's ear.
The interruption only amplified the suspense.
"So," Dumbledore resumed, barely fazed, "Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event. The Triwizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests..."
His voice carried through the hall, commanding attention.
"...From each school a single contestant is selected to compete. Now let me be clear: if chosen, you stand alone. And trust me when I say, these contests are not for the faint-hearted."
That caught everyone's attention.
"But more of that later," he continued. "For now, please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and their headmistress, Madame Maxime."
The great doors swung open.
A flutter of silk-blue robes and elegance entered the hall like a choreographed breeze. The girls danced lightly, releasing butterflies into the enchanted air. It was all quite beautiful... if not slightly absurd.
One of the dancers released butterflies directly toward Ron, who seemed to lose both his composure and motor skills. His jaw dropped. He was drooling.
"Blimey, that's a big woman," Seamus muttered, as Madame Maxime entered — a vision of grace and gravity that could probably lift Hagrid with one arm.
I was still chewing my roll when I realized some of the dancers had broken formation. A few of them walked directly toward me with wide eyes, like they'd spotted a unicorn at brunch.
"Are you Elsa Scamander?" asked the acrobat girl, clearly wrestling with the accent.
"Yeah," I said slowly.
"Oooh, can you show us something with your magic?" asked another with wide, expectant eyes.
It took me a second, but I nodded, exhaled, and raised my palms. Snowflakes formed, delicate and shimmering, drifting from above. A soft gasp rippled through the room as heads tilted upward.
