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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"Missed me?"
☆☆☆☆☆☆
ELSA POV
The morning crept in on slippered feet, soft gold light curling into the dorm like a whispered secret. I slipped out of bed earlier than the others, the thrill of the day buzzing beneath my skin.
Back in my room, I pulled on a short skirt, a crisp white shirt, and layered my Gryffindor robes over it. The mirror teased me with faint traces of hickies—a ghost of last night's kisses. I sighed and dabbed a charm-concealer over them, not entirely sure whether I wanted to hide them or flaunt them.
Defense Against the Dark Arts awaited.
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"Alastor Moody," the professor barked, scribbling his name on the board with the same force he seemed to use in life. "Ministry malcontent. Your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I'm here because Dumbledore asked me. End of story. Goodbye. The end. Any questions?"
No one dared raise a hand.
Beside me, Harry shifted, his thigh brushing mine. Closer. Always closer. His voice dropped like honey in my ear.
"You look so beautiful, baby"
I kept my gaze forward. "Thank you" I whispered, Blushing slightly. His smirk was infuriating—and addictive.
"But then, when do you don't" He teased
I rolled my eyes but didn't move away.
"When it comes to the Dark Arts," Moody continued, "I believe in a practical approach. First, who can tell me—how many Unforgivable Curses are there?"
Harry's hand had found mine under the table, his fingers mischievous, warm, insistent. I caught his wrist, warning him with a glare. He only smirked.
He was like fire in winter—impossible to ignore.
"You need to find somewhere else to put your chewing gum other than the underside of your desk, Mr. Finnigan," Moody snapped suddenly. "And Mr. Potter—"
My stomach dropped.
"I would appreciate if you'd take your hand away from Miss. Scamander"
Every head turned. My cheeks blazed. Harry, unbothered, slowly retracted his hand. I could've murdered him.
"Bloody hell, the old codger can see out the back of his head," Seamus muttered.
A piece of chalk whizzed through the air and smacked him right between the eyes.
"Which curse shall we see first? Weasley!"
Ron nearly jumped out of his seat. "Er—my dad told me about one. The Imperius Curse?"
