In third-year halls, their paths first crossed,
A Raven boy, a Blonde girl lost.
"Stay out of my way," she warned with a glare,
But something lingered in the frosty air.
Crimson with his scar and fame,
Emerald with her secrets untamed.
Two worlds ap...
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The crisp morning sunlight filtered into the Great Hall as Harry absentmindedly pushed a piece of toast around his plate, waiting for a specific delivery. His mind, howev er, was far from breakfast. Next to him, Ron was deep into his third bowl of porridge, while Hermione was already scanning her latest issue of The Daily Prophet, glancing at him over the top of it every now and then.
Finally, a large barn owl swooped low over the Gryffindor table and dropped a neatly wrapped parcel right in front of Harry.
"About time," Harry muttered, quickly tearing it open to reveal a pristine, brand-new copy of Advanced Potion-Making. Hermione glanced up, frowning slightly.
"Harry," she said, her voice taking on that familiar tone of disapproval, "you can't seriously be thinking about using the Half-Blood Prince's book again, are you?"
Without a word, Harry began swapping the new book's cover with the well-worn one of the Half-Blood Prince's. "I'll return this one to Slughorn," he said nonchalantly. "He'll never notice the difference."
Hermione sighed heavily, setting the paper down. "That's not the point! You know that book is dangerous. There are spells in there that—"
"I know, Hermione," Harry cut in, sliding the now-disguised Half-Blood Prince's book back into his bag. "But it's helped me before. I'll be careful, I promise."
Ron, his mouth full of porridge, gave a muffled laugh. "Yeah, and if Slughorn notices, you can always, you know, just Obliviate him or something."
Hermione shot him a glare. "That's not funny, Ron!"
Before the conversation could spiral into one of their usual debates, Harry stood up, grabbing his broom from under the table. "Look, I've got Quidditch tryouts today. We can argue about books later."
At the far end of the table, Aria had been watching the exchange with mild amusement. She slid her own broom from beneath the bench and caught Harry's eye with a playful grin as she stood up to join him. "Captain Potter, always so serious," she teased as she walked over, bumping her shoulder into his lightly.
Harry grinned back at her, feeling his tension ease a little. "Only when I need to be. And today, I think I'll need to be."
The group left the Great Hall and made their way toward the Quidditch pitch, the air crisp with the chill of early autumn. A crowd of students was already gathering, eager to try out for the team, and Aria, ever light on her feet, was already hovering on her broomstick by the time they arrived, circling lazily around the edge of the pitch as the hopefuls began to gather in groups.
