𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 [ 𝐭.𝐫 ]

28: BACK TO SCHOOL

The dungeons of Hogwarts were cold, even in September. Not cold like the wind—this chill was older, buried in stone, soaked into the flagstones and walls, echoing through the green-lit corridors like a breath you couldn't see.

Angelina paused outside the Slytherin dormitory entrance, the worn scales of the enchanted wall sliding open with a hiss when she whispered the password. It had been weeks since she last walked these corridors. She should have felt at home.

But she didn't.

Inside, the common room was its usual dim splendor—green tapestries with silver embroidery swayed with nonexistent wind, and the black lake's filtered light shimmered across the arched ceiling. The crackling hearth in the far corner bathed the space in a flickering golden hue, casting shadows across the stone.

She moved quickly through the room without a word to anyone and took the spiral staircase down to the girls' dormitories.

The room smelled faintly of rose perfume and ancient parchment. Lily Malfoy looked up from her bed, where she was seated in soft robes, brushing out her long platinum hair.

"Ange?"

Angelina didn't wait. She dropped her bag and walked straight to her. Lily stood and opened her arms. Angelina fell into them without hesitation.

"I missed you so much," Lily whispered, rubbing her back. "You didn't write. I thought maybe—"

"I couldn't," Angelina murmured, voice muffled in Lily's shoulder. "They wouldn't let me near an owl."

They sat on Lily's bed together, knees touching. Angelina hesitated, staring at her hands, and then spoke, slowly and carefully, like the words hurt on their way out.

"I was stuck at that awful place all summer. I did everything. Cleaning, laundry, floors, dishes... I wasn't allowed to talk about magic. It was like I wasn't a witch at all."

Lily's eyes widened. "But didn't—didn't Tom say he'd come get you?"

Angelina laughed softly, bitterly. "He did. But he never came. Never even wrote. Not once. Just silence."

Tears prickled in her eyes. She blinked them away.

"I was stupid to believe him."

Lily reached out and held her hand. "You're not stupid. He... he must've had a reason. But I'm so sorry you went through that alone."

Angelina just nodded. The words weren't enough. Nothing was.

Later that evening, dressed in her pressed slytherin robes, Angelina walked with Lily to the Great Hall. Her steps echoed under the high, torch-lit arches of Hogwarts' main corridor.

The grand oak doors opened with a familiar groan, and she was bathed in the golden glow of the ceiling—glimmering with enchanted starlight and floating candles that flickered lazily above the four long tables.

The Slytherin table was already filling up. Abraxas Malfoy waved, and Nott gave her a brief nod. Cygnus Black sent her a slow, scrutinizing glance that made her look away.

Angelina didn't return any greetings.

Instead, she sat down at the very end of the Slytherin table, as far as she could from everyone. But Lily—faithful Lily—followed and sat right beside her, ignoring the curious looks.

The Hall was alive with chatter, the returning students loud and excited. First-years glanced around in awe, still in their new robes, some clinging to older siblings.