The Silence of the Locket

"Congratulations, Miss Benson, on making Ravenclaw. A most fascinating house indeed. I'm sure we can expect great things from you." Dumbledore spoke clearly, with a kind and dreamy smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. "You'll have to forgive us, but we must excuse ourselves back to the Great Hall, the first years should have arrived by now." The Heads of House briefly offered their congratulations and started filing out of the classroom, all of them, except for Professor Snape, who had left immediately after the hat had exclaimed "Ravenclaw", apparently having wasted enough of his precious time. Adela smiled and thanked the other three professors while she secretly swallowed her disappointment and indignation. Maybe he was in a rush, she thought to herself, but that was a bit cuntish, wasn't it?

Professor Flitwick lingered back and spoke up with a high voice "Congratulations again, Miss Benson. I believe you will make an excellent addition to Ravenclaw house. Now, if you would accompany me to my office, there are some matters I wish to discuss with you." Adela grew nervous at this, What matters? Did I fuck up already? but she calmed down upon seeing the smile on Flitwick's face.

After a short walk along the stone corridors, Adela sat in Professor Flitwick's cozy office, her hands resting on the arms of the chair as the tiny professor beamed up at her. The walls were lined with shelves of ancient tomes and enchanted trinkets that occasionally emitted soft chimes or glowed faintly.

"Miss Benson, given your rather... unusual arrival at Hogwarts, we've decided that you will focus on preparing for your O.W.L.s rather than the more advanced N.E.W.T.-level coursework," he explained kindly. "This will ensure that you build a solid foundation and catch up as efficiently as possible." He offered her a small smile.

Adela thought back to the train, where Luna, Ginny and Neville had explained everything about the magical education system and the examinations required to complete it. O.W.L.s were done at the end of fifth year, while N.E.W.T.s were done at the end of the seventh year, and constituted a much more complicated syllabus. Adela frowned, considering his words carefully. She understood why they would take such a cautious approach, but she had spent her entire life feeling behind, feeling like something was missing. Now that she had the chance to be here, she refused to limit herself. Decided, she spoke up.

"I understand your reasoning, Professor, but I'd like to take both levels, if possible," she met his gaze with quiet determination. "I don't want to fall behind my classmates any more than I already have. If there's even the slightest chance that I can manage, I want to try."

Flitwick's eyes twinkled with admiration. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully before nodding. "That's quite ambitious, my dear! Few would take on such a challenge. But if you're determined, I will support you. You have the mind for it, I can already tell."

Relief flooded her, and she smiled. "Thank you, Professor. I won't let you down."

"That, I have no doubt of," he said cheerfully before gesturing toward the door. "Come now, we must return to the Great Hall. The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin."

Adela followed him through the winding halls of the castle, her heart fluttering with anticipation. She had been given an unexpected second chance, and she wasn't going to waste it.

"Oh, I almost forgot, Miss Benson" said Professor Flitwick just before the entrance of the Great Hall, "the headmaster asked me to communicate to you that he would like a private audience with you, to discuss the odd nature of your situation, the late entry into the magical world and the arrival of you Hogwarts letter".

Adela, having been just as curious for the reasons behind this, eagerly agreed, and Professor Flitwick assured her he would let her know when the meeting was to take place.

The Great Hall was bathed in the warm glow of a thousand floating candles. The ceiling reflected the darkening sky, speckled with stars that shimmered as though they truly existed within the vast chamber. The students sat at their respective house tables, excited whispers spreading like wildfire as the first years were led to the front of the hall.

Adela slipped into her seat at the Ravenclaw table, finding an empty spot beside Luna.

"Hello," she said in an airy and happy voice. "How was the sorting?"

"It went well, I think," she admitted. "I'm officially a Ravenclaw."

Luna beamed at her, evidently pleased. "That's wonderful! Pity that I'm a year below you, but we can still hang out in the common room or at lunch." She said happily.

Adela's face dropped a little at this. She was really dreading having to put herself out there one more time, it wasn't something she was used to. Now, on top of being the odd girl who had gotten her letter six years late, she had to find other friends.

"I imagine you must be feeling rather peculiar, coming here so late. But I wouldn't worry about that. The right things always happen at the right time, even if they seem quite out of place."

Adela stood frozen in place, as she felt for the second time in the evening that her mind was being read. Before Adela could respond, Professor McGonagall stepped forward with the Sorting Hat. The ceremony unfolded before her, a mix of nervous whispers and proud cheers as each new student found their place. Watching the fresh-faced first years, she couldn't help but wonder how different things would have been if she had grown up knowing she was a witch, if she had received her letter at eleven like everyone else. Would she have made the same choices? Would she have still been sorted into Ravenclaw?

She absently fingered the locket beneath her robes, its presence oddly comforting. The Sorting Hat had sensed something in her, something strange and hidden. What had it meant by interference?

Once the Sorting concluded, the feast began. Platters of food appeared on the tables, steaming and fragrant. Roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, rich gravy, buttery rolls, and an array of colorful desserts stretched as far as the eye could see. The sheer abundance was overwhelming, but in the best possible way. Adela thought she could cry. Never in her seventeen years had she been able to actually enjoy food, except for the occasional greasy and oily burger the pub at the corner of the orphanage's street served.

She hesitated for a moment before reaching for a serving of roasted vegetables and a piece of lamb. The flavors were unlike anything she'd ever tasted, rich and seasoned to perfection. Around her, students laughed and talked animatedly. Despite not knowing them well yet, Adela felt a quiet sense of belonging begin to settle over her.

As the meal wound down, Luna pointed out various Ravenclaw students, explaining their quirks with an amused fondness. "That's Padma Patil—she's very intelligent but doesn't always appreciate when people don't understand things as quickly as she does. And that's Terry Boot—he's lovely, but don't let him start on a tangent about magical theory unless you have a few hours to spare."

Adela chuckled. "Sounds like an interesting lot."

"They are. But so are you," Luna said thoughtfully.

Adela tilted her head, intrigued. "How do you know that?"

Luna merely smiled. "I just do."

After the feast, the Ravenclaws were led back to their tower. The bronze eagle knocker posed a riddle, which an older student solved effortlessly. As they stepped inside, Adela was struck by the breathtaking common room. The tall windows provided a stunning view of the night sky, and the ceiling was domed like an observatory. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books on every subject imaginable.

She said her goodbyes to Luna and went up to her dormitory. She walked in and took in the scene. Each four-poster bed was draped in deep blue velvet with silver embroidery, and a soft, plush comforter lay atop each mattress. A delicate shimmer seemed to cling to the fabric, as if woven with threads of magic. The room smelled faintly of parchment, ink, and something light and floral, perhaps enchanted lavender to help students sleep.

A tall, elegant bookcase stood against one wall, already filled with various texts left behind by previous students, some covered in dust and others clearly well-loved. There were small desks by each bed, ideal for late-night reading or last-minute essay writing. The soft glow of enchanted lanterns flickered gently in the corners, providing just enough light without disturbing anyone trying to sleep.

It was quiet, serene, and Adela found herself extremely satisfied.

Her roommates greeted her warmly, introducing themselves as Eva, Mariana, and Nicole. They were friendly and welcoming, and she let herself breathe a little. Maybe finding friends was not going to be that hard after all.

After unpacking, she excused herself to the bathroom to freshen up. She took off her makeup, brushed her teeth and changed out of her robes and into her cutest pajama set, a soft white cotton tank top speckled with tiny pink hearts, paired with matching shorts, simple, sweet, and comfortably snug. She went up to the mirror and let her hair down from her claw clip bun, which fell in soft black waves around her frame, reaching her lower back. The girl staring back at her was familiar, yet somehow different. Her blue-green eyes were bright, reflecting the flickering candlelight. Her black hair framed her diamond-shaped face, accentuating her delicate features. She traced a finger over the faint freckles on her nose and pulled her eyes down to her body, taking in the way the soft pajama set suited her. She smiled softly at her reflection "You're doing amazing". She stared at herself for a few more seconds, utterly content, and she cheekily blew a kiss at the reflection and walked out of the bathroom.

With that comforting thought, she climbed into bed, eager for what tomorrow would bring.

Morning arrived with the promise of a new beginning.

Her first class, Charms with the Gryffindors, started promisingly. After having read every single book she had been able to get her hands on during the summer, she answered every theoretical question with ease, her sharp mind piecing things together quickly, surprising not only her professor and classmates, but also herself. Proud of how well she was doing, she was already thinking about skipping the O.W.L.s and taking the N.E.W.T.s directly.

Nevertheless, when it came time to perform the spells, something was wrong. No matter how precisely she moved her wand, no matter how clearly she enunciated the incantations, the magic barely responded. Professor Flitwick grew concerned as he simplified the spells for her more and more, reaching a sad Wingardium Leviosa that most first years could successfully do, yet she could barely get the feather to lift a few inches from the table's surface.

Professor Flitwick watched, confused. "Curious... very curious indeed. There is something unusual here, but I can't quite place it, Miss Benson. I believe your wand movements and incantations are more than satisfactory. It truly is a mystery why the magic doesn't seem to respond."

Heat rose to Adela's cheeks. She had expected to struggle, but this was different. This was like trying to breathe underwater. Frustration built inside her, a nagging sense of failure gnawing at her confidence. She was sure that Flitwick had grown disappointed, especially after having showed so much promise in the theoretical part of the work. Adela felt a familiar sensation of tears threatening to spill from her eyes. This couldn't happen. She needed to prove her worth, she needed to be perfect. Otherwise, what was she? What value did she have? She would only be proving to everyone how she didn't really belong. Maybe there had been a mistake, maybe she wasn't a witch after all. Maybe the late arrival of her letter proved that she wasn't really supposed to be there. The idea of being anything less than exceptional made her stomach twist in a mix of anger and disappointment in herself, especially as she watched her classmates produce the charms effortlessly.

Professor Flitwick seemed to notice the change in her mood and spoke quietly. "Don't worry, Miss Benson. No one is expecting you to excel in spell work only a month after finding out about this new reality you now belong to. It is perfectly normal. In my many years of experience, I can assure you I'm not concerned, so don't worry yourself too much, dear, I'm sure it is only a matter of time and practice." he smiled at her reassuringly and she smiled back, but despite of how kind and friendly his words had been, they didn't stop Adela from overthinking. She swallowed her unspilled tears and settled on picking at her lips instead.

Lips bloody, she left the Charms classroom and, having nowhere to go for her free period, decided to go to the library to prepare for her next class, Potions, pulling out her book from her bag. At least that had been her plan, until she ran into Luna, Ginny, and Neville. They invited her to sit with them in the Great Hall, and soon enough, she was drawn into their conversations about the current climate in the magical world. Adela put her book away at once, determined to find out everything she could as early on as possible, so as to avoid this exasperating feeling of lacking information. She figured it was better to understand the world she had suddenly found herself in, instead of feeling lost every time people spoke in hushed tones about things she couldn't quite grasp.

As they gathered around a table in the bustling hall, the conversation quickly turned to more serious matters. Luna was talking about something she had read in one of the Daily Prophet's odd reports when Neville interrupted her, a strange note of concern in his voice.

"Did you hear about that Muggle family who disappeared last week?" he asked. "Their house was found completely empty, not a trace of them anywhere. It's like they just vanished."

Ginny nodded, her expression serious. "I heard something similar happened to a couple of wizards over the summer. No one's been able to explain it. They just... disappeared."

Adela felt her stomach tighten with unease. She hadn't heard much about this kind of thing before, and she wasn't sure whether it was normal in the magical world. She brought her hand up to pick at her —already bloody— lips again. "Wait, what do you mean? I didn't know people were disappearing."

The three exchanged a glance before Ginny spoke up. "You're new, so you might not know the full story. It's not just random disappearances." She looked around to check for listeners and then bent down to whisper "It's Voldemort." It looked like pronouncing that name was almost painful for her.

Adela blinked, confused. "Voldemort?"

Neville shushed her, but then nodded grimly. "Yeah, him. Wizards don't say his name, it brings back terrible memories and fear. You've probably heard of him, even if you're not familiar with everything. He's the one who terrorized the wizarding world before... before Harry stopped him."

Adela's mind raced, trying to piece together what they were saying. She remembered her conversation with Hagrid at the Leaky Cauldron "Harry? Who's Harry?"

Ginny leaned in, her eyes wide and full of strange intensity. "Harry Potter." She nodded towards the table where the boy was sitting along with a bushy-haired girl and a ginger boy. "He's... well, he's the one who defeated Voldemort when he was just a baby. Voldemort tried to kill him, but the spell didn't work. Harry survived, and it... it destroyed Voldemort. For a time, anyway."

Adela sat back, stunned. "How did he manage that as a baby?"

Ginny sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's a long story. But basically, Voldemort tried to kill Harry, and the curse backfired. It took Voldemort down, and for years after, there was peace in the wizarding world. Or so we thought."

"But now he's back," Neville added, his voice lowering. "Voldemort came back a few years ago. It wasn't just a few rumors; it was real. He returned during the Triwizard Tournament. Harry was there, he fought him. But it wasn't enough. Voldemort is rising again. And now... things are starting to go wrong again."

Adela's mind was spinning. She couldn't believe what they were telling her. "How did he come back?"

Luna looked at her with an almost eerie calm. "Voldemort's never really gone. He's always found ways to come back, using dark magic. It's what he does."

Ginny shook her head, her eyes narrowing with frustration. "It's not just Voldemort coming back, it's everything that comes with him. People are disappearing, and there are even some murders, both magical and Muggle. The Ministry's trying to hide it, but there's no escaping it. We're all going to have to fight."

Adela was silent for a long moment, trying to process everything. "And Harry... if he's the one who stopped him last time, can he stop him again?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Neville nodded. "Hopefully yes. Harry's the one who's always had to fight him. He's the one who knows how to face Voldemort. It's like their destinies are tied together."

Adela asked, feeling a growing sense of dread. "Why am I just hearing about this? Isn't it kind of a big deal?"

Ginny gave her a small, understanding smile. "It's not easy to talk about. A lot of people are still in denial about it. It's hard to believe when you haven't seen it firsthand. But yeah, it's all real. You're in the middle of it now, along with the rest of the wizarding world."

Adela ran a hand through her hair, feeling overwhelmed. "Of course. Just my luck. I show up and the dark wizard who everyone's been afraid of is back to wreak havoc. Perfect timing."

Neville smiled faintly, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, you're not alone. We're all in this together. And don't worry, Harry's around. He's... well, he's not exactly someone you forget easily."

Ginny nodded, her face turning a deep shade of crimson. "He's the one who's always had to face the darkness. He's rather... extraordinary."

Neville snickered. "She means she's got a huge crush on him."

Ginny shot him a mock glare. "I do not!" she protested, but the teasing only made her blush deeper. Her friends laughed, and the tension in the air lightened.

Adela smiled slightly, feeling the weight of her earlier fears lift just a little. She was starting to get a better sense of the people she would be surrounded by at Hogwarts and what she had gotten herself into. But as they continued to chat, her thoughts kept returning to the ominous knowledge that Voldemort was back. And with him, everything else was starting to unravel once again.

All thoughts of dark wizards and senses of impending doom were cleared from her mind when she left the Great Hall and descended towards the dungeons for her first Potions lesson. She had decided she was not going to let herself fail again, as she had done in Charms. Potions was going to be a fresh start. She tried to clear her head from all negative thoughts as she arrived at the dark corridors that were the dungeons. The air was thick and humid with the scents of odd and peculiar ingredients, which lingered in atmosphere. Surprisingly, this didn't bother her. Having lived among teenage boys her whole life, these scents were more than bearable.

She made her way to the correct door, which was ajar, sounds of chattering students coming from the inside. She pushed open the door and walked inside, timidly, though none of the students seemed to notice her arrival. Relieved, Adela glanced at the desks and tried to decide where to sit. Not too close to the front, so as not to seem overly eager or like an insufferable teacher's pet, but not too far, to avoid exuding disinterest or boredom. She settled for the third row of tables and picked one towards the center (not too centered, though).

She pulled out her book from her bag, absently turning the pages, waiting for the teacher to appear, when the door suddenly slammed loudly, and the class went completely quiet. Adela looked up in shock, and what she saw stilled her flicking of the pages of her potions book.

The first thing Adela noticed about him was his presence— dark, commanding, and utterly arresting. He moved with a quiet intensity, his long black robes trailing behind him like a shadow. There was nothing careless about the way he carried himself; every step was deliberate, every glance weighted.

His face was all sharp angles, high cheekbones, a defined jaw, and a slightly hooked, aristocratic nose that gave him an air of severe elegance. His skin was pale, smooth in a way that made him look almost carved from marble, and his hair, dark as ink, fell bone straight past his chin. But it was his eyes that held her captive, black as the night, fathomless and impenetrable, yet flickering with something hidden beneath the surface.

She should have been intimidated by Severus Snape. And yet, as he turned, fixing her with a fleeting, unreadable glance, unbidden thoughts curled at the edges of her mind. She tried hard not to flush, looking down.

Behind him, words began to appear on the blackboard in crisp, white strokes. The letters formed smoothly, as if an invisible hand was guiding them, each word materializing in perfect, deliberate script. The classroom remained silent except for the faint, almost ghostly scratching sound of chalk against slate. "N.E.W.T. LEVEL POTIONS".

Snape's severe gaze suddenly dropped to Adela, assessing her, and she forced herself to not look intimidated. All of the sudden, she was overly aware of herself, and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed how most of the students had sat towards the back, the only exception being the bushy-haired girl she had seen sitting by Harry Potter in the Great Hall, who was on the first row, right in the middle. Great. Just what she had wanted.

Snape pulled his gaze away and addressed the class. When he spoke, his voice was low, deep and silken, each word measured, deliberate. It wasn't just the sound that sent a thrill down her spine, but the way he wielded it, like a blade, like a spell, something meant to command and control. He was a man of precision, of discipline.

"I trust you are all capable of reading," he drawled, his tone laced with disdain. "If you believe the statement on the blackboard exceeds your abilities, I suggest you do the sensible thing and leave now. I assure you, there are more of you in this room than there should be, and several who will find even the most rudimentary requirements of this subject beyond their grasp." His gaze flicked across the students, black and unreadable, making sustained eye contact an impossibility. Adela swallowed hard.

"If, however, you are under the delusion that you belong here, then by all means, stay. But let me be clear, I am not to be tempered with. There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. Potion-making is a subtle, exact science, and I have neither the time nor the inclination to coddle those too inept to grasp its complexities." A silence, thick and suffocating, settled over the room. A single breath too loud would have been an offense.

"Good," Snape murmured at last, finality in every syllable.

What a cunt, Adela thought to herself. All her thoughts of attraction and fascination towards the teacher were suddenly surpassed by those of annoyance. She was knocked out of her thoughts when Snape turned towards her.

"As for our new student," he pronounced, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a glint of something unreadable. "I wonder, Miss Benson, do you believe yourself capable of keeping up with this class? Or are you merely here as an exercise in Ravenclaw arrogance?"

A few students shifted uncomfortably. Adela felt their eyes flick toward her, waiting to see how she would respond. She forced herself to remain still, to keep her breathing steady.

"I would not be here if I did not believe I could meet the standard, sir," she said evenly, keeping her tone respectful but firm.

Snape's lips curled slightly, though it was not a smile. "Belief, Miss Benson, is a charming thing. Unfortunately, it is rarely enough in my classroom." He took a slow step forward and placed his hands on the edges of her desk, almost caging her, his voice a low drawl. "You are an anomaly, a student who has not followed the proper path of magical education, and yet, here you sit, among those who have spent years refining their craft. Tell me, is it raw talent you are relying on? Or is it that famed Ravenclaw delusion, an inflated sense of intelligence that convinces you that reading enough books can substitute for experience?"

Adela's fingers curled into her robes beneath the desk, but her expression remained neutral. "Knowledge without experience has its limits, Professor," she conceded, her voice calm. "But experience without the willingness to learn is equally worthless."

There was a flicker, so brief she almost missed it, in Snape's expression. He tilted his head ever so slightly, as if considering her words, but the scrutiny in his gaze did not waver.

"How... philosophical," he murmured, before straightening. "Nevertheless, I will make one thing abundantly clear. You have been permitted into this class due to... the unusual circumstances of your arrival. That does not mean you will be treated any differently." His voice dropped to a dangerous softness. "You will either prove yourself worthy of this subject, or you will be removed from it. I will not tolerate incompetence. Is that understood?"

Adela met his gaze steadily. "Perfectly, sir."

For a moment, the silence stretched between them, heavy and charged. Then, with a sharp flick of his robes, Snape turned away, addressing the rest of the class.

"Open your books to page 147. We will begin with the properties of Veritaserum."

Adela exhaled slowly, her heart still hammering in her chest. She had survived her first encounter with Severus Snape, barely, and she knew now that he wasn't going to make this easy. Fine. She would have to prove herself. Nerves erupted in her stomach at this, but not an ounce of self-doubt occupied her mind.

Picking at her lips with her right hand, she turned to page 147 with her left.

Game on, bitch.