Chapter 3
September 4th, 1994
"Last class of the day and Moody’s late," Draco muttered beside Maria, leaning back in his chair with an impatient sigh. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, the familiar look of annoyance etched on his face.
Maria glanced at the door, half-expecting the professor to barge in at any moment. “Don’t you think there’s something…off about him?”
Draco shrugged. “All of our Defense Against the Dark Arts professors have been weird. The position’s rumored to be cursed.”
Maria sighed, lowering her voice as she leaned in closer. “Draco, he drank from his weird-looking flask at least four times during the Opening Feast.”
“Probably just a drunk—”
“If he were a drunk, he’d reek of alcohol,” she interrupted sharply. Her mind recalled a scene. “I bumped into him in the courtyard yesterday, and I swear I saw…chopped pieces of hair in the flask.”
Draco frowned, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. “Hair?” He tried to think of any potions that required such an ingredient, but his mind came up empty.
Before he could respond, a pair of hands clapped heavily onto both their shoulders, causing them to jump.
“What’s all this whispering about?” Theo’s voice broke through the tension, his face lit up with an amused grin as he leaned in between them.
Maria rolled her eyes and pushed his arm away. “Things far too complicated for your troll-sized brain, Theo.”
Theo slumped dramatically into the chair behind her, feigning deep offense. “I didn’t realize my best friend of nearly all my life could be so cruel.”
Draco huffed but quickly scanned the room, his gaze falling on the empty seat beside Theo. “Where’s Blaise?”
Theo waved a hand dismissively. “In the infirmary. Some ‘Puff blew black powder in his face during Divination—Wait, you two were there!” His eyes widened in disbelief as he looked between them. “This was last block. How could you two forget?”
Maria shrugged. “Draco and I sit at the front of Divination, Theo. We were probably too focused on our work.”
Theo snorted. “Draco focused in Divination?”
Draco raised an amused eyebrow at Maria. “We were actually doing our work, reading that stupid crystal ball,” he said, the hint of a smirk returning. “Maria makes Divination tolerable.”
Maria shot him a playful glare, while Theo groaned, flopping back into his chair. “Great, now you’re both unbearable.”
Maria let out a small laugh. “We’ll visit Blaise after class.”
Before their conversation could continue, the heavy sound of something clanking against the stone floor echoed through the corridor.
Maria turned her head just as Alastor Moody limped into the classroom, his metal leg striking the ground with a thud. His magical eye spun restlessly in its socket, sweeping across the students in the room. The students quieted instantly, their chatter dying as Moody made his way to the front of the class.
He flicked his wand, and the door slammed shut behind him. His presence alone seemed to fill the entirety of the room, casting a heavy shadow as his scarred face glowered at them. His dark coat swirled around him as he stopped, fixing the class with a steely gaze.
“Right,” he rasped, his voice rough and commanding, “you all know who I am. Alastor Moody. Ex-Auror. Fought in the First Wizarding War.” He paused, his magical eye spinning to scan the students. “And I’ve been in more battles with Dark Wizards than you’ve had hot dinners.”
Moody began pacing slowly, his metal leg thumping rhythmically against the wooden floor. “You lot have been taught how to defend yourselves—theory, mostly. But theory’s not going to save your skin when you’re face to face with someone who wants to kill you.”
The tension in the room rose as Moody continued. After grabbing a piece of chalk, he began to write on the blackboard behind him. “Today, we’re going to discuss the most dangerous spells you can encounter. The Unforgivable Curses. Three spells so powerful, so twisted, that using them will land you a life sentence in Azkaban.”
His eyes, both magical and real, locked onto Ron. “Weasley. Name one.”
Ron, looking slightly nervous, shifted in his seat. “The Imperius Curse,” he said after a moment, his voice a little shaky. “My dad told me about it. He works at the Ministry, they’ve been dealing with cursed objects.”
Moody’s lips curled into a grim smile. “Imperius. A nasty one. Yeah, your father should know all about that.”
He flicked his wand, and in an instant, a large black spider appeared on the desk in front of him. The class collectively recoiled as Moody let the creature walk across the desk. “The Imperius Curse gives total control over a person—or a creature.” With another wave of his wand, the spider froze, then began spinning mid-air, its legs flailing helplessly.
“The Ministry says you’re too young to learn about these curses. I say different.” His voice was low and menacing. “You need to know what’s out there. What you might face.”
He waved his wand again, and the spider stopped its tumbling, landing back on the desk. “You think you can resist something like this? Think again. Under the Imperius Curse, you’d dance, you’d jump off a cliff—happily, without even knowing it.”
Moody’s eye swiveled sharply to Maria, fixing her in place with its piercing gaze. He smiled grimly, his expression darkening as he addressed her. “Your father knew about the Imperius Curse, didn’t he, PenDragon?”
Maria’s heart skipped a beat, and she tensed, her eyes widening slightly. Draco shot her a glance, his brow furrowing.
Moody continued, his voice low and deliberate. “I remember the stories. Your father used the Imperius Curse when he needed information…back in the day. Mostly on suspected Death Eaters, of course.” His mouth twisted into a wry smirk. “But power like that? It’s easy to get used to. Easy to justify. It’s a dangerous thing when you start thinking you’re in the right.”
The class was silent, the weight of Moody’s words hanging thick in the air. Maria swallowed hard, trying to shake off the chill creeping up her spine. Her fingers anxiously twirled the ring that sat on her finger. She forced herself to look away from Moody.
Draco stiffened beside her, his expression hardening. He held himself back from lashing out on their professor.
Moody, clearly satisfied with the impact of his words, stepped back, his eyes sweeping the room once more. “Remember this,” he said gruffly, “the Unforgivable Curses are named for a reason. Once you cross that line, there’s no going back…Crucio!”
The spider in his hand twitched as it began to undergo the curse. Every student in class began to feel uncomfortable, listening to its squeaks and whimpers.
“The Cruciatus Curse. Simple in the name. Tortures the subject the wizard points their wand to.”
Moody flicked his wand again, sending the spider across the desk before landing in front of Hermione.
“Alright, Granger. Wanna give us the last curse?”
Maria looked at Hermione for the first time today. She watched as the other girl trembled under Moody’s stare as she shook her head.
“Well,” Moody muttered before aiming his wand at the spider one last time. “Avada Kedavra!”
A flash of green light emitted from the tip of his wand, hitting the arachnid. In less than a second, the spider stilled.
Maria held her breathe as she just witnessed a professor use the most unforgivable curse of all.
“The Killing Curse,” Moody continued. “Only one person is known to have survived it…And he’s sitting in this room.”
Everyone watched as Moody approached Harry. The two stared at each other for a moment before Moody took out his flask, sipping on the mysterious contents.
“I don’t like this class,” she whispered quietly, glancing at Draco.
“Wait ‘til my father hears about this,” he replied, his eyes thinning at the professor.
The class sat in stunned silence, the reality of Moody’s lesson sinking in. This was no ordinary Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
“He’s demented, I tell you,” Maria told Draco and Theo as they descended the spiral stairs of the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower. Her frustration was evident in the sharpness of her voice. “Performing those curses in class…not to mention bringing up my father’s past. It’s ridiculous.”
She stormed down the steps at such a pace that she nearly tripped over her own feet. If it hadn’t been for Draco and Theo both grabbing her arms, she would have tumbled all the way to the bottom.
“Slow down, Mari,” Theo said, concern lacing his tone. “We don’t need you getting hurt on the first day of class.”
“Right,” she mumbled, slowing her steps. The three of them continued downward, one step at a time, when Maria spotted a familiar face standing by one of the tower’s grand stained glass windows. It was Neville Longbottom. She recognized him from St. Mungo’s. He visited his parents there as often as possible during the summer holidays.
“Neville,” Maria called out softly, pausing a step below him. “Are you alright?”
“Leave Longbottom alone. Looks as lost as a troll,” Draco sighed, clearly exasperated.
Maria shot him a sharp look. “Be nice.”
Neville glanced at her, his face pale, and nodded slowly. It was clear that today’s class had affected him deeply. Maria couldn’t imagine what he must be going through. She recalled hearing one of the healers at St. Mungo’s mention how Neville’s parents had been tortured with the Cruciatus Curse until they lost their sanity.
To witness that same curse today in class…
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Moody’s cane tapping heavily against the stone steps as he descended towards them. His magical eye swiveled, as if he saw something in Neville no one else did.
“Longbottom,” Moody said, placing a large hand on Neville’s shoulder. “Come with me. I’ve something to show you.”
Neville nodded again, before following Moody back up the stairs and out of sight.
Maria’s gaze hardened as she turned to Draco. “Are you always this rude to people when you’re at Hogwarts?”
“What’s it to you? I don’t treat you like that, do I?” Draco shot back, scoffing. His attitude instantly changed.
“That’s besides the point, and you know it! His parents were tortured with the Cruciatus Curse. The same curse Moody just demonstrated in class. Can’t you see it affected him?”
“Oh, I see,” Draco sneered. “So now that you’re in Gryffindor, you suddenly care about your housemates like they’re your friends?”
“Draco—” Theo began, but the tension between Draco and Maria drowned him out.
Maria folded her arms across her chest. “It’s called empathy. Clearly something you don’t seem to have a grasp on.”
“I have empathy for the people I care about,” Draco muttered, his voice sounding defensive but lacking its usual bite. “You’re acting like I cursed him myself.”
“Funny you say that,” Maria retorted, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Maybe that’s why you’re so infuriating. Because you only care about yourself.”
Without another word, she pushed past Draco and Theo, her footsteps echoing through the stairwell as she made her way towards the hospital wing. Blaise is nice enough to not give her a hard time.
“Mate—” Theo tried again, but the silver-haired boy merely brushed past him down the stairs, storming off in the opposite direction.
Theo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going mental,” he muttered to himself as he descended the remaining stairs on his own rhythm.
Just a few steps behind where the commotion took place, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood in shock.
“Blimey…” Ron breathed, his eyes wide.
Hermione nodded in agreement, her words lost for a moment. “That was—”
“Brilliant!” Harry interrupted. His eyes lit up with amusement. “Did you see the way she told Malfoy off?”
“Calm down, mate,” Ron teased, nudging Harry with his elbow. “We might mistake you for having heart eyes.”
Hermione chuckled at Ron’s words, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Shut up, Ron,” Harry retorted, though he couldn’t hide the flush creeping into his cheeks at the thought of Maria standing up to Draco.
As they continued their descent down the stairs, Ron curiously glanced at Hermione. “How come you two aren’t friends yet? I thought the both of you shared a dorm together.”
Hermione sighed. “Just because we share a dorm, doesn’t mean we’ll automatically become friends, Ronald. Besides, we barely have time to talk before it’s lights out. She comes back to the common room with little time to spare.”
“I think the two of you would hit it off actually,” Ron said. “You punched Malfoy last year, she put him in his place just now—probably all the time too. That’s a friendship if I say so myself.” His grin was too wide as he envisioned their friendship.
Hermione shook her head, chuckling at Ron’s words. “Maybe one day. She does kind of intimate me. Her aura is pretty striking. Isn’t it, Harry?” She teased the other boy.
All Harry did was ignore his two friends as they laughed in unison.
September 10th, 1994
Herbology was a class Maria had learned to dread. It wasn’t because of the professor—Mrs. Sprout was an amazing teacher—but it was because of her lack of retaining anything herbology-related unless it was a topic that greatly interested her.
“Alright kids! Let’s all put on our dragon-hide gloves,” Sprout instructed.
Maria put on her gloves and noticed that everyone else’s looked worn down compared to hers.
All that wear and tear, yet the school doesn’t buy them new ones?
“Now, take off the cloth that’s covering our specimen for today,” Sprout demonstrated. When she removed her cloth, Maria was familiar with what the dark-colored plant was: a bubotuber plant. The students copied her motion and some instantly recoiled at the grotesque-looking plant.
Her mind reminded her of the times her mother would have these in the PenDragon greenhouse. Though the smell was slightly repulsive, she remembered that the diluted pus can be a great remedy for acne. It was truly a lifesaver for the young girl last year.
Still, Maria shivered. She realized that instead of her mother handling the plant, that she herself will be the one to do so.
“These are bubotubers! Now, we’ll all be squeezing the pus-“
“The what?” Seamus interrupted, sounding horrified at what he was about to do next.
Sprout sighed and pointed to his plant. “The pus, Mr. Finnigan. We need every last drop since it is very valuable. However, make sure not a single drop hits your bare skin, it can cause sweltering boils, and we don’t want that today, don’t we?”
The class carefully began extracting the pus. Maria squinted her eyes, afraid that every time she squeezed the yellow protrusions, it would land on her face rather than the jar in her other hand.
“These are amazing,” she heard Neville say next to her.
“Amazing, in their diluted state. I’ve had to use it on myself countless of times last year,” she replied, cringing after squeezing another ounce of the liquid into her jar.
Neville turned to her with wide eyes. “You know about bubotuber plants?”
Maria chuckled. “My mother is a herbologist. Back at home, we have this massive greenhouse with different sections enchanted to mimic certain types of climates. Whenever she would come back from her travels, she’d always bring one new plant with her.”
“That’s amazing!” Neville marveled, feeling a surge of happiness. “Not many people enjoy talking about plants, but they’re really fascinating! You can do so much with just one type of plant and the remedies you can make with them…it’s unreal.”
Maria could sense that Neville’s interest was truly authentic when it came to the topic of Herbology. An idea popped up in her head.
“My mother, she’s published many books out there,” Maria began. “Have you heard of Sofi Alcantrik?”
His eyes widened, nodding at the familiar name. “Yeah! I have almost all of her books in the series Herbology for the Young and Bright. I am missing the third volume though. They stopped printing it ages ago—and I’m rambling. Sorry.” Neville was sheepish, turning his attention towards his plant again.
She leaned closer to him and lowered her voice. “Small secret to keep, but that’s my mother’s pen name. I can get you the third volume if you’d like? We usually have stacks of all the books she’s published hidden in our basement.”
Maria figured that being friends with Neville Longbottom wouldn’t be as awful as Draco made it out to be in his letters. Comparing real Neville to Draco’s version of Neville resulted in two different people.
Draco…she scoffed at herself. It’s almost been a week and he hasn’t apologized yet. She wasn’t in the wrong, she knew that. She was only concerned for her fellow housemate yet Draco always has to open his mouth and-
“I don’t want to cause you any trouble,” Neville started, but Maria shook her head, giving him a small smile.
“No trouble at all. I don’t mind helping out a friend,” she said smoothly.
“A friend?” he asked, feeling surprised.
“Yeah,” she confirmed, her smile growing. “A friend.”
After Herbology, Maria bid farewell to Neville. Her usual walk to the Gryffindor common room was a lonely one. She would cross through the courtyard, make her way up the Spiral Staircase, and eventually find herself face-to-face with the Fat Lady’s portrait.
But today, a different path was set for her. Dumbledore had requested her presence in his office via owl, so instead of her usual route, she chose to stay within the castle’s corridors, opting for a shorter path that led to the Headmaster’s office.
She wasn’t worried—Maria was certain she hadn’t done anything to get herself into trouble. Most likely, Dumbledore just wanted to check in, to see how she was adjusting to life at Hogwarts. After all, everything was still new for her, and it wasn’t as though her transition had been seamless.
In truth, she missed the slow mornings she was used to. When she traveled with her father, they were never awake before nine or ten. Here, the early mornings were tiring, and it had taken her several days to adjust to the rhythm of Hogwarts life.
But as she moved deeper into the castle, a creeping unease began to settle in her chest. What if Dumbledore’s message wasn’t just a friendly check-in? What if something had happened back in Romania, and Dumbledore was the one to deliver the news?
Her heart quickened.
No, stop overthinking.
If something had happened to her mother, her father would have come to get her right away, wouldn’t he?
Lost in thought, Maria didn’t notice someone until she collided with them. The familiar scent of cologne filled the air, and she groaned inwardly.
“Sorry, Draco,” she muttered, already trying to sidestep him.
“Yeah, you should be,” Draco retorted with his usual edge, causing Maria to scoff in response.
Without missing a beat, she quickened her pace, heading up the stairs—until Blaise appeared, blocking her path. She let out a frustrated sigh. The last thing she needed right now was a confrontation.
“You two need to talk,” Blaise said firmly, his tone brokering no argument.
As if on cue, Theo appeared, blocking Draco from retreating any further down the stairs. “We don’t need a repeat of last summer.”
Last summer was his fault, Maria thought with an eye roll.
I couldn’t care less about last summer, Draco mused bitterly, crossing his arms.
“Look,” Maria began, pointing up the staircase. “Dumbledore’s waiting for me—”
“That message was fake,” Theo admitted, cutting her off. “We knew you two wouldn’t agree to see each other, so this was the only way.”
Draco scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “So, what is this? Some kind of intervention? I’m not in the mood.”
“Neither am I,” Maria snapped, glaring at the boys. She shoved past Blaise’s half-hearted attempt to stop her and stormed up the stairs. She didn’t care where she was headed anymore—she just needed to get away from them.
Draco ripped Theo’s hand off his arm and turned on his heel, descending the staircase with a determined step, already heading for the familiar peace of the Slytherin common room.
July 18th, 1993
The summer of 1993 was supposed to be peaceful, but instead, it had become painfully silent at Malfoy Manor. Maria had been staying with the Malfoys for nearly a month while her parents, Roland and Sofiana, traveled together for their anniversary. Usually, she and Draco got along well enough, but this time, something had gone horribly wrong. She didn’t know if his attitude was affected by the events of what happened during his second year at Hogwarts. But whatever it was, it left her hurt and confused.
It started with an argument over nothing—or at least, that’s what it seemed like to Maria.
They had been sitting by the lake on the Malfoy grounds one afternoon, the warm breeze ruffling the pages of the book Maria was reading. Draco was lying on the grass beside her, fiddling absentmindedly with a twig, clearly bored out of his mind.
“Honestly, Maria,” he muttered, breaking the comfortable silence, “don’t you ever get tired of reading? Merlin, it feels so dull out here.”
Maria had glanced up from her book, raising an eyebrow. “Then why don’t you find something to do?”
Draco huffed and rolled his eyes. “Not all of us enjoy burying ourselves in dusty old books, Maria.”
“Maybe you should try it sometime,” she replied, her tone light but with a hint of challenge. “You might learn something.”
Draco straightened up, suddenly defensive. “I don’t need a book to tell me how to handle things. I’m perfectly fine without wasting my time on that.”
Maria blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sudden change of tone in his voice. “I didn’t say you needed to. I was just suggesting—”
“Suggesting I’m not smart enough, aren’t you?” Draco interrupted, his gray eyes flashing with annoyance. “I don’t need you or anyone else telling me what I should or shouldn’t do.”
She stared at him, bewildered. “Draco, I wasn’t—”
“Oh, please.” He waved her off with a sneer, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You PenDragons always think you’re above everyone else. Always acting like you know better than the rest of us.”
Maria felt her patience snap. “I’m just reading a book, Draco! How did we even get here?”
But Draco was on a roll, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re always doing this—always trying to one-up me, always trying to act like you’re better. It’s irritating.”
Maria’s jaw clenched. “If you’re so bothered by me being here, maybe I should just go,” she snapped, slamming her book shut and rising from the picnic blanket they laid out earlier.
“Maybe you should!” Draco shot back, his voice rising. “It’s not like anyone asked you to stay anyway!”
They glared at each other for a long moment before Maria turned on her heel and stormed off towards the manor, leaving Draco fuming by the lake.
From that day on, they barely spoke. They avoided each other at meals, sat on opposite ends of the drawing room, and only exchanged cold glances whenever they bumped into each other. The Malfoy household, once filled with Draco and Maria’s laughter, became heavy with tension. Narcissa had noticed, of course, but she didn’t press the issue. She knew it was better for the two of them to sort out their conflict together.
A few days after their ‘fight’, Blaise and Theo arrived at the manor for a visit. As soon as they walked into the drawing room, they sensed the awkward atmosphere.
“Merlin, what’s going on in here?” Blaise asked, his eyes darting between Draco and Maria. “Did someone die?”
Draco, who was slouched in an armchair by the fireplace, simply shrugged, looking away from Maria, who sat on the opposite side of the room, pretending to be absorbed in a magazine.
Theo raised an eyebrow and leaned against the doorframe. “You two haven’t said a word to each other since we got here. Is this some kind of silent treatment contest?”
Neither Draco nor Maria responded, though Maria’s grip on the magazine tightened.
Blaise smirked, crossing his arms. “This is ridiculous. What did you do, Draco?”
Draco shot him a glare. “Why do you assume it was me?”
“Because it usually is,” Blaise retorted, glancing knowingly at Theo, who nodded in agreement.
Maria let out a soft, bitter laugh from her corner of the room. “He’s not wrong.”
Draco’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t say anything.
Theo sighed, pushing off the doorframe. “Come on, you two. It’s summer. You’re stuck in the same house for another week. You might as well sort this out.”
Draco crossed his arms, his jaw set stubbornly. “There’s nothing to sort out.”
Maria rolled her eyes. “Clearly.”
Blaise exchanged a look with Theo before shaking his head. “Unbelievable. You’re both acting like children.”
But the two remained silent, both too proud—and perhaps too hurt—to make the first move. Blaise and Theo, sensing that the conversation wasn’t going anywhere, decided to come up with a plan to help them resolve whatever issue they have with each other. They knew from experience that Draco and Maria wouldn’t see eye to eye unless both of their perspectives were explained to each other.
“So stubborn,” Theo muttered, glancing between his two friends.
Blaise chuckled quietly. “They’re too proud to admit they’re wrong.”
“Want to bet that they’ll get together in the future?” Theo raised his eyebrows at Blaise, who only shook his head.
“If they do, take my limited edition wizarding chess board that was signed by Montague Knight himself.” Blaise quietly replied.
Theo laughed, imagining something else in his mind. “That’s too much. I want your enchanted medallion scarf.”
“Deal,” Blaise said, offering his hand to shake. That scarf meant no value to Blaise.
Theo shook his hand, too eager in completing the agreement.
September 10th, 1994
Three pairs of curious eyes tracked Maria as she stepped into the warmth of the Gryffindor common room at nine in the evening. Other than brief glimpses in class, she hadn’t had much interaction with Harry, Ron, or Hermione since arriving at Hogwarts. Now, they sat near the fireplace, the air thick with curiosity.
“Hi,” Harry waved, breaking the silence with a friendly wave. His green eyes were bright behind his round glasses, the first to reach out.
Maria offered a small, polite smile, returning his wave before turning to walk up the stairs toward the girls’ dormitory. She had barely taken a step when the sound of someone clearing their throat made her pause. She turned, her eyes darting between the trio, waiting for the source of the interruption.
Hermione exchanged a look with the boys, her brow slightly furrowed, before letting out a soft sigh. Clearly, neither Harry nor Ron were eager to be the first to speak.
“Ron has something he’d like to say,” Hermione finally spoke, nudging Ron forward with a gentle push.
Ron’s face flushed with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. “Me?” he spluttered, glancing between Hermione and Harry for support. Harry gave him a nudge as well.
“Right, yeah...” Ron tugged at the collar of his sweater, straightening it awkwardly as he avoided Maria’s gaze for a moment. When his eyes finally met hers, they were filled with uncertainty but also sincerity. “I just wanted to…apologize for what happened on the first day. I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.”
Maria arched an eyebrow, intrigued and slightly amused.
Ron shifted from foot to foot, visibly uncomfortable but continued. “It’s just…we thought Malfoy and his lot were giving you a hard time. We were only trying to look out for a fellow Gryffindor.”
The room hung in silence for a heartbeat. Maria found herself studying Ron, surprised by his straightforwardness. Apologies weren’t something she often received, especially from boys.
At least some boys know how to apologize, she thought, a trace of bitterness flickering across her thoughts.
“Thanks, Ron,” Maria said quietly, adjusting the strap of her satchel. “I appreciate that. And I’m sorry too. I didn’t have to react the way I did…it just caught me off guard, I suppose.”
“It’s all right,” Harry chimed in, his voice warm and understanding. His posture had relaxed, and he gave her a reassuring nod. “We know you were just sticking up for your… friends.”
Maria’s expression softened as she glanced between them. “Draco, Blaise, and Theo…they’re not exactly the best people, but they can be nice, in their own way. I’ve known them my whole life, so I’m used to their antics.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “It’s not like anyone’s really been around to keep them in line.”
She glanced back at Ron, her voice lightening as she added, “But if they ever give you guys any trouble, just let me know. I’ll gladly knock them into next week.”
That earned a chuckle from all four, the lingering tension evaporating as quickly as it had settled. Just as the laughter began to die down, Hermione’s eyes flickered to the small table behind her, where a half-finished game of wizard chess sat. The pieces were frozen in mid-battle, some visibly scorched or shattered.
She turned back to Maria with a slight smile. “Harry and Ron were just in the middle of a game,” Hermione said, pointing to the board. “Do you want to join us and watch them with me?”
Maria blinked, surprised by the invitation. Hermione was always so composed, so reserved, and though Maria knew her to be kind, she hadn’t expected her to reach out like this. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she was truly being welcomed into their small circle or if this was just an extension of the earlier conversation. Still, the idea of being included, of sitting with them as something more than an outsider, warmed her. It felt different—maybe even nice.
“Sure,” Maria said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Why not?”
She slid her satchel off her shoulder and placed it gently by the armchair, before making her way to the couch where Hermione had already settled in. Maria sank into the soft cushions beside her.
Across from them, Harry and Ron were sitting cross-legged on the floor, the chessboard between them on the table.
Ron, with his sleeves rolled up, grinned as he surveyed the board. “You’re just in time. Harry’s about to lose.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “That’s because you cheat.”
“Not my fault you can’t keep track of the pieces,” Ron shot back with a smirk, but there was no malice in his words, just the familiar banter between friends.
Maria watched as the chess pieces clattered into position with a wave of Ron’s wand, some of them limping from their last battle. She leaned back against the cushions, her eyes drifting over the group. It was strange, sitting here, comfortably among the people she’d barely spoken to.
Hermione leaned toward her, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. “They’ve been playing this for hours. You’d think one of them would have won by now.”
Maria chuckled softly, glancing at the board. “Seems like they enjoy dragging it out.”
Hermione smiled, settling back into the couch. “It’s always like this.”
The game continued, the soft clinking of chess pieces moving echoing through the common room, blending with the crackle of the fire.
Maria found herself watching them, occasionally glancing at Hermione as she gave her own quiet commentary. The scene felt strangely normal, as though she’d always been here, among them.
The minutes slipped by, the warmth of the room slowly seeping into Maria’s bones. She listened as Ron boasted about his next move, Harry groaned in defeat, and Hermione stifled a laugh beside her.
It wasn’t long before the weight of the day began to settle over them, their conversation growing slower, the crackling fire casting a soft, comforting glow around the room.
Maria leaned back fully into the cushions, her thoughts drifting. She hadn’t expected this, the quiet ease of companionship from people she’d thought were wary of her. She hadn’t expected to be invited in, to be included. But here she was, nestled among them, feeling—for the first time since she arrived—a little more like she belonged.
As the chess pieces clattered on, and the laughter softened, Maria closed her eyes briefly, letting the warmth of the moment settle around her. Maybe Hogwarts, and Gryffindor, wouldn’t be so bad after all.