❛ASTERIA EDWARDS was your average, typical eleven-year-old child stuck in a pandemic with her mother Isabella Diggory until she found out where she truly came from.. and where she truly belonged...❜
[extended summary inside]
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harry potte...
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Harry's head buzzed with weird energy. He hurried along the seventh floor corridor as soon as he could, passing nobody but Peeves and the chunks of chalk that he threw to get a reaction out of him.
He had a feeling it was something important.
Well, it was always something important when it came to Dumbledore's lessons. But this time, something was.. different?
He'd felt this weird energy before a few times. Ron had said it was because he hung out too much with Ria. So he'd become a bit like her too.
Oh, he could only wish. She felt so much.. too much at times.
She was a bit too nice compared to him. A bit too kind. A little bit more selfless also.
But Harry wouldn't deny that they'd been practically glued by the hip, for the past few days.
It was like heaven itself— being with her again after what felt like years. Disappearing inside empty classrooms.. Chuckles and whispers bouncing off their walls until they would eventually be found out by a Professor and threatened with detention.
They'd run off then; her fixing his askew glasses and straightening his tie that she loved to tug at to crash their lips together. Him wiping the smudged lipstick from the corner of her lips and pulling her in for another kiss once they were out of sight.
He was so in love, and this time he knew that she was too. He could see what the others finally saw— the way she looked at him, the way she smiled and the way she held him.
A scream and a crash broke him out of his daydream. He stopped in his tracks, listening.
"How— dare— you— aaaaargh!"
The noise was coming from a corridor nearby; Harry sprinted toward it, his wand at his hand when he turned around the corner, but he only saw Professor Trelawney. She was sprawled upon the floor, her head covered in one of her many shawls, several sherry bottles lying beside her, one broken.
"Professor—"
Harry hurried forward and helped Professor Trelawney to her feet. She freed some of her glittering beads from her glasses and hiccupped loudly. She pulled herself up using Harry's arm, patting her head.
"What happened, Professor?"
"You may well ask!" she said shrilly. "I was strolling along, brooding upon certain dark portents I happen to have glimpsed.." But he was not paying much attention. He had just noticed where they were standing.
"Professor, were you trying to get into the Room of Requirement?"
".. omens I have been vouchsafed— what?" She looked suddenly shifty.
"The Room of Requirement," repeated Harry. "Were you trying to get in there?"
