March 31st, 2004 - the birth of Y/N Crimson.
Two years before the First Wizarding War (1995-2006) ended, the newlyweds - Caspian and Amaryllis - welcomed a beautiful baby girl into the world. A blessing from God himself accorded upon the good Brit...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇
The boats scraped softly against the stone, and one by one, the first-years climbed out. Their shoes slipped on the damp steps as the lake water licked at the moss-covered oak planks. Above them, the castle loomed — vast and grand, its towering walls swallowing the last remnants of conversation.
Y/N stepped onto the stone, her boots hitting the ground with a quiet thud as she straightened and brushed invisible dust from her sleeve. Around her, students craned their necks upward, whispering in hushed awe. Some would mutter a quiet "bloody hell." Another nearly tripped trying to take it all in at once. She said nothing, though her gaze lingered just a second longer than necessary on the towering doors ahead.
"Firs' years! This way!" Hagrid's voice rang, reverberating against the stone as he gestured them forward.
The group gathered itself into something that resembled order, though it was loose at best. Y/N fell into step without thinking. Aurora hovered beside her, still bright-eyed despite the cold, while the others — Seraphina and Sophie — trailed just behind, their earlier curiosity now tempered by nervousness.
Up close, the doors were even more imposing — dark oak reinforced with iron, scarred faintly with age and the students that came before them. They swung open with a scratchy groan before anyone could touch them.
The entrance hall was cavernous, lit by torches that flickered against high stone walls. The ceiling stretched far above, disappearing into shadow, while a wide marble staircase curved upward like something out of a painting. Voices echoed in the distance — older students and paintings, most likely.
But the first-years didn't get far; instead, they were told to cluster together inside the threshold in silence, their damp hems brushing against polished stone floors. Y/N stood near the edge of the group, hands resting at her sides. A familiar mess of brown hair stood several feet away, throwing daggers at the back of her head. Y/N didn't look back.
Footsteps approached, and the murmuring died. A tall, wrinkled woman in deep green robes stepped into view, her presence cutting through the lingering noise. She pressed her lips into a thin line — or maybe they were naturally just like that, and she swept her gaze over the group with an unreadable expression.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," the woman said, her voice carrying across the hall like a wave. "Now, in a few moments, you'll pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses."
The woman cleared her throat and brought her hands together, letting the room settle before she spoke again. "They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and . . ." The last name lingered in the air a beat longer than the rest.
