She was a misfit, he was a git.
Matilda Diggory enters her fifth year of school, ready to remain as under the radar as possible, only there's a catch. She's somehow managed to catch the eye of a particularly annoying redhead, who seems hell-bent on...
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Matilda trudged down the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, the weight of the day's Potions class heavy on her shoulders. The dungeon had been stifling, the sharp tang of Armadillo Bile mixing with the ridiculous heat of the cauldrons. The bitter scent clung to her skin, stubborn and foul, making her stomach churn even now. Not even Alicia's charm — the one that was supposed to clear bad smells with a flick of the wrist — had worked.
Usually, Potions was her sanctuary. The methodical slicing, the controlled stir of a spoon — it brought order to her otherwise chaotic life. But today? Her hands had trembled too much to dice the ginger root properly, and the fumes had made her dizzy. She'd missed two steps in the recipe and added the bile too early. Her cauldron hadn't exploded — but barely. The look Slughorn had given her wasn't disappointment exactly, but... close enough.
She rubbed her forehead, trying to push back the ache building behind her eyes. Just a few more days. Then it would pass — the moon, the pain, the feeling of being too much and not enough all at once.
Vera had had to nudge her awake when she started nodding off mid-simmer. Poor girl. Matilda owed her one.
As she rounded a corner, voices buzzed ahead. A crowd gathered at the notice board, voices bubbling with curiosity and excitement. Matilda stepped closer, squinting at the parchment that had everyone practically ascending.
TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY.
STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.
Well. That was... exciting. And mildly terrifying.
It meant everything was about to change. Her friends might be chosen. There would be attention. Eyes. People. It meant there'd be a spotlight — something she had spent years avoiding.
"I think it's a terrible idea," said a quiet voice behind her.
Matilda turned. Vera stood a few feet away, fidgeting with her sleeve, brown eyes fixed on the parchment like it had personally insulted her.
Matilda nodded. "Me too."
Vera leaned in a little, dropping her voice despite the crowd. "I don't like other people. They're scary."
Matilda's lips twitched. "They won't be scary. They'll probably just talk to each other in fancy accents and ignore the rest of us."
Vera gave a solemn nod and drifted off without a word.
Matilda turned away too, weaving through the students with her mind elsewhere. Normally, she might've told Fred about the announcement, made a joke about French boys in tight trousers or Russian girls with terrifying cheekbones. But things weren't normal anymore. Not between them. Not for weeks.
