S̵̘̱̀̍̌s̵̻̎̂̍ ̸̨̽͗3̵̟̙̺̈́:̶̘̬́ ̵͇̑Ḧ̸̤̱̆ȏ̴͔͈̠g̸̡̡̫̍w̷͉̯̦̿̿ä̶̛̳́r̸͎̭̾̅̊t̵̥̜̘̏s̸̈́͛

168 2 0
                                    

(BSD HogwartsAU, don't ask why I'm doing this, I'm bored kk?)

*Note: Silver Wolf wreaked havoc in the wizarding world. She accidentally (on purpose) made a bunch of Critters by a bunch, I mean a LOT. So Muggles noticed them, and the Ministry of Magic had to work over time. ANYWAY, long story short, since she was 15 (already had magic like an expert, so the Ministry freaked out when they learned that she was underage), she got sent to Hogwarts, that's all.

     She felt like it was Hell for her, if the Ministry punished her, then it was okay, she could just coax, but going to school? HELL NAH!

She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stop the irk mark that was threatening to show on her forehead, turning back to her trunk, Silver Wolf placed her hands on her hip and stared. The ancient, ornately carved trunk seemed to mock her with its unyielding silence. It wasn't the trunk's fault, of course. Silver Wolf just wasn't in the mood for the tedious task of packing. Hogwarts. A school for witches and wizards. A place crawling with rules, regulations, and probably a whole herd of know-it-alls who wouldn't know a real Critter from a a conjured cake. 

A low growl rumbled from somewhere deep within her. It wasn't a sound she usually let out, not in public anyway. But the sheer absurdity of it all was getting to her. The Ministry, those uptight, tea-sipping bureaucrats, had cracked down on her "Critter Incident" with the force of a hippogriff with a sore tooth. And who could blame them, really? A whole town's worth of Muggles seeing cake-cats make a tower from themselves around lampposts and digging up flowerbeds was bound to cause a stir.

Silver wasn't exactly remorseful. The Ministry's draconian policies towards magical creatures always rubbed her the wrong way. But unleashing a living, breathing (or rather, frosting-coated) zoo onto the unsuspecting Muggle populace wasn't exactly her finest moment.

Still, being sent to Hogwarts felt like a slap in the face. Weren't detention and obliviating Muggle memories punishment enough? Not. Apparently, the Ministry felt a wild, self-taught witch like her needed to be "civilized." Silver Wolf scoffed. The only thing Hogwarts would civilize was her wardrobe.

She had bought the necessary items like potion ingredients, books, and other things. Along with a white snowy owl, which she named Whitenings (she ran out of ideas), who was sleeping peacefully in his cage. She better go to  Platform 9¾ if she wanted to catch the train. Hoisting her overly-heavy trunk onto a stroller, she began to navigate her way through the bustling platforms of King Cross Station.

King's Cross Station pulsed with the frantic energy of a thousand departures. Suitcases thumped on polished floors, families shrieked farewells, and a cloud of nervous excitement hung heavy in the air. Silver Wolf, however, felt a different kind of energy simmer within her – a rebellious defiance mixed with a dash of grudging curiosity.

Lugging her monstrous trunk behind her on a cobbled-together stroller (a questionable but efficient charm), she weaved through the throngs of people. The trunk, overflowing with not just school supplies but also a healthy dose of rebellion (think smuggled enchanted lockpicks and a well-worn copy of "Unconventional Charms for the Independent Witch"), creaked ominously with every bump.

Whitenings, her snowy owl, hooted disapprovingly from his cramped cage strapped precariously to the trunk's handle. He seemed to share his owner's disdain for this "school" business. But Silver offered him a curt nod, a silent promise that Hogwarts wouldn't hold them captive forever.

Finally, she reached the bustling barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. It was then she noticed a gaggle of primly dressed witches and wizards – Hogwarts students, no doubt – muttering incantations and pushing their trolleys through a seemingly solid brick wall. Silver scoffed. Platform concealment? Please.

Ǧ̶̥a̵͜͝m̶̨̎è̵̪ ̶͙͘Ŏ̵̼n̴͙̑Where stories live. Discover now