Chapter 9: History, Mystery, and Mildly Cursed Books

September 2nd, 1991

A soft golden glow seeped through the thick, round windows of the Hufflepuff dormitory, casting warm light across the stone walls and plush yellow duvets. The room still carried the lingering scent of fresh earth and honeyed wood, comforting and familiar, as if the castle itself had wrapped its arms around its newest residents.

Elara stirred, her body sluggish from exhaustion, yet her mind already awakening. The events of the previous night flickered through her thoughts—the Sorting Hat’s eerie words, Peeves’ theatrics, and the sheer weight of keeping up with so many new faces. Even now, in the quiet hush of morning, she could feel the remnants of social fatigue pressing against her ribs like a heavy book resting on her chest.

A soft purring sound pulled her from her thoughts. Warm fur brushed against her cheek as Sage, her sleek brown cat, nuzzled her, his tail flicking lazily as he curled against her shoulder. He had been there for her last night, settling beside her the moment she climbed into bed, his steady purring grounding her in the strangeness of this new place. Even now, as the castle stirred awake, he remained her constant—an anchor amidst the unknown.

A yawn broke the silence as Susan Bones sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes sleepily. Her red hair was a tangle of waves, and her freckles seemed even more prominent in the early morning light. "Morning," she murmured, stretching her arms overhead before swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

"Morning," Elara echoed, her voice still heavy with sleep.

Across the room, Hannah Abbott let out a groggy groan, pulling the blanket over her head. "Five more minutes," she mumbled.

"You said that ten minutes ago," Sally-Anne Perks teased, already dressed and fastening the last button on her robe. Unlike Hannah, Sally-Anne seemed like the type who didn’t waste a second of the morning, her neat brown hair already braided over one shoulder.

Elara finally forced herself upright, her muscles aching slightly from the strange bed and unfamiliar routine. She caught sight of herself in the mirror above her nightstand—her strawberry blonde hair was a tousled mess, and there were faint creases on her cheek from the pillow. Lovely.

After a few minutes of yawning, stretching, and halfhearted attempts to make herself look presentable, Elara pulled on her robes and followed her roommates out of the dormitory, descending the spiraled stairs into the cozy common room. The fire in the hearth was still crackling from the night before, and a few students were already lounging on the squashy armchairs, chatting in hushed voices.

“Wonder what breakfast at Hogwarts is like,” Hannah mused as they climbed through the entrance tunnel and into the castle corridors.

“I heard the tables just fill up with food on their own,” Susan said. “Like, one minute they’re empty, and then—poof—everything’s there.”

Elara hummed in interest, her stomach already eager to confirm this rumor.

As they neared the Great Hall, the delicious scent of toast, bacon, and pumpkin juice drifted through the air. The room was already bustling with students, the enchanted ceiling reflecting a soft, pale blue sky streaked with early morning clouds. The Hufflepuff table was invitingly warm, and the moment the girls sat down, plates filled themselves with steaming eggs, sausages, and fresh fruit.

Just as Elara reached for a piece of toast, a sudden whoosh of wings filled the air. The morning post had arrived.

Hundreds of owls swept through the Great Hall, weaving between floating candles as they delivered letters and parcels to students. Most of them dropped the packages midair but a few swooped low, knocking over goblets of pumpkin juice in their enthusiasm.

Elara glanced up just in time to see a small, speckled barn owl descending toward her. It landed neatly in front of her, extending its leg, where a neatly tied parchment awaited.

“Guess this is for me,” she murmured, untying the parchment. The owl gave a soft hoot before taking off, disappearing back into the flurry of wings overhead.

Her hands tightened slightly on the scroll. This was it—her class schedule. The moment of truth.

She took a deep breath and unrolled the parchment.

Elara Willow, Hufflepuff, 1991-1992

Time

Monday

Tuesday

Wednesday

Thursday

Friday

7:30 AM

Breakfast in the Great Hall

Breakfast in the Great Hall

Breakfast in the Great Hall

Breakfast in the Great Hall

Breakfast in the Great Hall

9:00 AM

Herbology 🌱 (H/R)

Flying 🧹 (H/R)

Charms ✨ (H/G)

Defense Against the Dark Arts 🛡️ (H/S)

History of Magic 📜 (H)

10:00 AM

Charms ✨(H/G)

Transfiguration (Double) 🐈 (H/S)

Herbology 🌱 (H/R)

Potions (Double) 🧪 (MIX)

Charms ✨ (H/G)

11:00 AM

Break

Overflow / Break

Break

Overflow / Break

Break

12:00 PM

Lunch

Lunch

Lunch

Lunch

Lunch

1:00 PM

Potions 🧪 (MIX)

Defense Against the Dark Arts 🛡️ (H/S)

Flying 🧹 (H/R)

History of Magic 📜 (H)

Herbology 🌱 (H/R)

2:00 PM

Transfiguration 🐈 (H/S)

Potions 🧪 (MIX)

Transfiguration 🐈 (H/S)

Charms ✨ (H/G)

Break / Study

3:00 PM

Break / Study

Break / Study

Break / Study

Break / Study

Break / Study

6:00 PM

Dinner

Dinner

Dinner

Dinner

Dinner

9:00 PM

Curfew

Curfew

Curfew

Curfew

Curfew

12:00 AM

-

-

-

-

Astronomy (Midnight Class) 🔭 (H)

Elara scanned the parchment, her eyes flitting across the neatly organized subjects and times. The schedule seemed straightforward enough—until she reached Potions.

Potions (MIX)

Her brow furrowed. That wasn’t how the others were listed.

Before she could dwell on it, a voice beside her spoke up.

“Got your schedule, too?” Ernie Macmillan leaned over, comparing his parchment to hers. “I wonder how different they are.”

Susan, who was glancing between her own schedule and Hannah’s, looked up at them. “Ooh, good idea! Let’s see how they match up.”

Elara hesitated, but before she could react, Ernie’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“What’s that?” He pointed at her parchment. “Why does your Potions class say ‘MIX’?”

Elara blinked. “I—don’t know.”

Ernie’s frown deepened. “That’s weird. Our Potions class is with the Gryffindors. It’s supposed to be the same for all the first-year Hufflepuffs.”

“Wait, let me see,” Wayne Hopkins said, scooting closer to get a look. He squinted at Elara’s parchment. “Huh. Yeah, ours just says ‘Potions (H/G)’”

Susan compared her own parchment again and nodded. “It’s definitely different. That’s strange.”

“Maybe it’s a mistake?” Hannah suggested.

“Or maybe Snape’s got a special project going on,” Wayne mused.

Zacharias Smith, who had been listening in but not speaking, finally snorted. “Or maybe Snape’s just being a git.”

Justin Finch-Fletchley, who had been peering at his own schedule, chimed in. “It could be a special group,” he suggested. “Like a study program or—oh! Maybe it’s a remedial thing?”

Elara stiffened. “I don’t need remedial Potions,” she said quickly.

Justin raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean it like that! Just, you know, some kind of different setup.”

Susan hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe Snape’s doing some kind of experiment?”

The table went quiet for a moment. Then, simultaneously, Ernie, Hannah, Wayne, and Justin all said, “That sounds like something Snape would do.”

Zacharias rolled his eyes. “Of course it is. He probably just wants to mess with us.”

Wayne smirked. “Well, lucky for us, he’s messing with Elara this time.”

Elara sighed, staring back down at her parchment. Her first day at Hogwarts hadn’t even properly begun, and already, something about her schooling was different.

She wasn’t sure if she liked that. For she had already been singled out far too much.

----------------------------------------

After finishing breakfast, Elara tucked her schedule into her bag, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness for her first real day of classes. Herbology was up first, which was at least a relief—it wasn’t Potions. And according to the schedule, they’d be having it with the Ravenclaws.

"Alright, so… where exactly are the greenhouses?" Zacharias asked, squinting down at his schedule as if it might give him directions.

Justin leaned over to peek. “Somewhere outside, obviously.”

“Yeah, but the castle is massive, and I don’t fancy wandering around forever just to find a bunch of plants,” Zacharias grumbled.

“It can’t be that hard,” Ernie said confidently, adjusting his bag over his shoulder. “We just have to go out to the grounds and look for the greenhouses.”

Hannah glanced at Elara. “You’re good with maps, right?”

Elara blinked. “I—what? No, not particularly.” she said softly.

Sally-Anne giggled. “I think Hannah assumes you are because you were looking at your schedule so seriously just now.”

“Oh, I was just trying to memorize it,” Elara laughed quietly. “But I don’t think that helps us right now.”

Wayne clapped his hands together. “Alright, so… we just start walking and hope for the best?”

“That’s how people get lost, Wayne,” Susan sighed.

“Then it’s a good thing we’ve got a whole group,” Justin said brightly. “If we get lost, at least we won’t be alone.”

“That’s… not reassuring,” Zacharias muttered, but he followed along as they all headed toward the entrance hall.

Unfortunately, their confidence took a hit when they stepped outside and realized that the grounds were much bigger than they’d thought. There was the Quidditch pitch in the distance, Hagrid’s hut near the forest, and—way off to the side—several glass structures that looked promising.

“I think those are the greenhouses,” Sally-Anne pointed out.

“Great,” Wayne said. “Now, how do we get there?”

What should have been a simple walk turned into a mess of wrong turns, dead ends, and a particularly unhelpful detour toward the Whomping Willow. They quickly backtracked, but every minute lost made Elara’s stomach twist a little more. Being late on the first day of class wasn’t exactly ideal.

By the time they finally spotted the greenhouses, they could already see a group of Ravenclaws standing neatly in front of one, their blue-trimmed robes perfectly in order.

“Oh, perfect,” Zacharias muttered. “Of course the Ravenclaws knew exactly where to go.”

“Maybe they had a map,” Wayne suggested.

“Or they just asked for directions,” Ernie pointed out.

Justin groaned. “Asking for directions is for people who admit they’re lost. And we were not lost. We were… exploring.”

Susan shot him a look. “Uh-huh. Tell that to Professor Sprout.”

Panting slightly, they hurried up to the group just as the stout and cheerful figure of Professor Sprout turned to greet them. Her face lit up as she clapped her hands together.

“There you are! My little badgers—I was beginning to think you’d gotten eaten by the castle on your way down!” she said with a warm chuckle.

Several of the Ravenclaws were now watching them with varying degrees of amusement, but Sprout didn’t seem the least bit cross. If anything, she looked delighted to see them.

Hannah, still catching her breath, gave a nervous laugh. “Sorry, Professor, we, er—”

“Oh, no need to apologize, dear. The first week is always an adjustment!” Sprout assured them. “Besides, it just means I get to say a proper hello to my new Hufflepuffs! You’ll find that we Hufflepuffs have a particular affinity with plants and nature—after all, we love to grow things, whether they’re magical or Muggle!”

She beamed at them before turning back to the whole class. “Right, now that we’re all here, let’s get started, shall we?”

Elara sighed in relief, adjusting her bag. At least Sprout was kind enough not to hold their tardiness against them. And maybe—just maybe—next time, they’d actually find their way without an adventure first.

Professor Sprout led the class into the greenhouse, her cheerful demeanor setting a light tone for the whole group. The inside of the greenhouse was warm and smelled faintly of earth and something slightly sweet—like a mixture of fresh soil, leaves, and perhaps even a hint of something magical.

“Alright, everyone! Welcome to your very first Herbology lesson!” she called, beaming at the students. “I’m Professor Sprout, and I’ll be your guide on this green adventure! Now, don’t be shy. Get comfortable, and let’s start with something simple!”

She waved her wand, and a table of pots, each holding a small, sprouting plant, floated into the center of the room. The students gathered around eagerly, though some of them were still slightly hesitant. Elara glanced at her classmates—Wayne was still catching his breath, Justin had a nervous but excited grin, and Sally-Anne seemed particularly keen to dive into something that wasn’t just theory.

One student in particular stood out to Elara, her soft voice carrying over as she joined the group. “I wonder if they’d feel happier if we hummed to them…” she murmured quietly. It was Luna Lovegood—the girl who had been sorted into Ravenclaw last night. Elara had seen her in the Great Hall, of course, and though Luna had seemed dreamy and somewhat distant, there was a curiosity about her that Elara found intriguing. She hadn’t spoken to Luna yet, but now, watching her approach with a serene calm, Elara felt a strange sense of connection to her, as if Luna, too, was a little different, but in a way that might make them understand each other.

“Now, let’s begin with these little beauties!” Professor Sprout gestured to the plants, her face radiating enthusiasm. “These are Baby Mandrakes, not quite as loud as their adult forms, but they’re excellent for beginners! You’ll find that their roots are a bit… sensitive, but nothing you can’t handle with the right approach.”

She demonstrated how to carefully pot the Mandrakes, talking through the process. “Gentle, now—plants are very attuned to emotions. If you’re too rough, they’ll feel it. If you’re too anxious, they’ll sense that too, and we wouldn’t want our Mandrakes to feel nervous, now would we?”

As she spoke, Elara’s gaze drifted to the small plants. There was something about them—something familiar. As her fingers brushed against the soft, slightly damp soil, a sudden warmth spread up her arms, and she felt a deep, almost magnetic pull from the plant. It was as if the Mandrake recognized her, and in return, she felt a sense of recognition from it. Her heart beat a little faster as she delicately cradled the plant, and she realized it was no ordinary feeling. There was magic here—something powerful, ancient, and alive. Something in her blood was waking, reaching out to connect with the plant’s energy.

The Mandrake responded to Elara’s touch. It didn’t scream, but instead, its leaves trembled as if reacting to her presence. She felt a tiny spark of energy rush through her, like a pulse of magic coming from the roots that she could almost hear in her mind. Elara held her breath for a moment, feeling the plant’s energy settle with hers.

But not every Mandrake was as calm. Zacharias, standing on the other side of the table, was much more nervous, and his Mandrake reacted accordingly. As his fingers brushed too roughly against the plant’s stem, it let out a shrill, high-pitched cry, startling Zacharias and the rest of the class. The Mandrake’s shriek echoed in the greenhouse, its leaves vibrating as if it were in pain.

“Careful, Zacharias!” Professor Sprout called with a chuckle, but her voice had a bit of a warning tone. “Mandrakes are very sensitive to your emotions, especially fear and rough handling. Try to relax!”

Zacharias flushed with embarrassment, stepping back as the Mandrake settled, its cry fading into a low, whimpering sound. He shot a glance at Elara, who was still gently cradling her plant. “How do you… How do you make it calm down like that?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

Elara gave him a small smile, carefully returning her focus to the Mandrake, her hands moving in a slow, circular motion over the its roots, coaxing the plant to settle into calmness. It was as if the plant were breathing with her. "I think… I think it just needs gentleness. And a touch of self-awareness.” she said softly.

Next to Zacharias, Wayne had also made the mistake of moving too quickly with his Mandrake, and the plant emitted a sharp hiss as if it were upset. But Wayne, already more attuned to Elara’s advice, took a deep breath, slowing his movements. The Mandrake seemed to recognize his calmness and stopped its hissing, its leaves now curling gently in his grasp.

“Very good, Wayne,” Professor Sprout praised, her smile as warm as ever. “That’s it. You see? It’s all about respecting them, just like any other living thing. They’ll thrive when treated with care and understanding.”

Elara focused on the sensation for a moment, grounding herself in the feeling. She didn’t know if anyone else could sense what she did, but for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, she felt truly alive, and in turn, she fully began to realize just how much magic was alive. It was as if her own heart were beating in time with the quiet pulse of nature. She felt the plant seem to breathe with her, its delicate roots curling around her fingers in semblance of a hug almost like it wanted to fuse. And in its own way... it did. For her magic seemed tethered in the strangest way, more alert than ever, stirring to life in a way that made her feel like every cell in her body was humming and harmonizing on some otherworldly frequency. A strange secret language.

Luna, standing beside her, glanced over at Elara with a soft smile. “You feel it too, don’t you?” she said quietly, her voice like a gentle breeze. “The way the plants know us—the way they’re awake inside their roots and leaves. I’ve always thought that’s why they like music. They can hear it. It speaks to them.”

Elara considered it for a moment, then nodded with a small smile, feeling a quiet connection with Luna. “I think… I think maybe they do. It’s strange, but it feels like I can hear them somehow. Like I can feel them.” She turned to Luna, who was already smiling, as if she had expected nothing less.

Luna’s eyes lit up with understanding. “That’s exactly what it is. It’s the way plants speak, if you listen carefully enough. Some of us are just more attuned to their whispers.” Her eyes met Elara’s with a knowing look, as if she understood exactly what Elara had felt, and in a way, perhaps she did.

Professor Sprout, noticing their quiet exchange, approached with a warm smile. “Well, I see some of you are already getting along with the Mandrakes quite well. Good, good! Just remember to be gentle and that these little ones are sensitive to your emotions.” She winked at the class. “It’s one of the reasons I love teaching this subject. Plants are magical in their own right, but it’s our connection with them that makes the magic truly powerful.”

As Elara continued to work, she was amazed by how easily the Mandrake seemed to respond to her touch. She felt as though the plant’s energy was growing stronger the longer she held it, the pulse of nature flowing through her hands. It was as if she could guide its growth with just her thoughts, her connection to the plant deepening with every moment.

Luna hummed softly, her eyes closed in concentration as she gently stroked the Mandrake’s leaves. Elara could sense the same energy in her, too—an attunement to nature that went beyond the obvious. She didn’t know if Luna could feel the same pull to the plants, but there was something comforting in the way she seemed to understand without needing to say much.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

Elara smiled to herself, feeling more at home in this class than she ever expected. Maybe there was more to this magic than just spells and potions. Maybe the world of plants held secrets she was only beginning to understand.

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As the first-year Hufflepuffs stepped out of the greenhouse and back onto the castle grounds, the warm morning light felt almost reassuring after the strange experience of their first Herbology lesson. Elara lingered for a moment, brushing her fingers over the leaves of a nearby plant, feeling the way its energy hummed beneath her touch. There was something alive in the magic of it—not just in the way it moved or responded but in the way she could feel it.

But she had no time to linger. The others were already moving, and their next challenge awaited them: finding Charms class.

The problem? No one had actually told them how to get there.

Justin unrolled his schedule again, frowning. “So… Charms is on the third floor?”

Wayne peered over his shoulder. “Yeah, but where on the third floor? I mean, this place has a million doors.”

“Maybe we should follow the Ravenclaws,” Sally-Anne suggested, craning her neck to see the group of blue-robed students already disappearing into the castle ahead of them.

“That would have been a good idea,” Zacharias muttered, watching the last Ravenclaw vanish around a distant corner, “ if we had actually followed them. Besides, our next class is with Gryffindors.”

Ernie squared his shoulders with determined confidence. “We’re Hufflepuffs. We’ll figure it out. Can’t be that hard, right?”

Elara wasn’t so sure. She glanced up at the towering stone walls, the many archways and corridors stretching out before them. She had a feeling Hogwarts was not going to make this easy.

The group filed inside, their footsteps echoing as they moved through the grand hallways. The castle was eerily quiet compared to the busy breakfast rush. Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting shifting colors across the floors. Portraits whispered amongst themselves as the students passed.

After a few turns, Ernie confidently led them down a passageway that he swore had to be the right way.

It wasn’t.

Instead, they found themselves in a long corridor with an arched ceiling and absolutely no stairs in sight. At the far end, a suit of armor stood silently against the wall, its empty helmet tilted slightly, as if amused by their confusion.

“We should have turned left,” Wayne groaned.

“Or maybe we should have gone straight ,” Justin countered.

Hannah worried her lip. “Should we go back?”

But just as she spoke, a soft grinding noise filled the air. The suit of armor shifted . No— the wall behind it did. With a low rumble, a hidden passageway sealed itself off, leaving only smooth stone where an open hallway had been just moments before.

Elara blinked. “…Did anyone else just see that?”

The group fell silent.

“Oh, brilliant ,” Zacharias threw up his hands. “The castle’s moving . Because that’s normal.”

“Maybe it doesn’t want us to go that way,” Sally-Anne whispered, a little spooked.

Susan sighed. “I think we’re officially lost.”

Wayne turned in a slow circle. “Okay, so… where are we?”

Ernie exhaled sharply. “Does it matter? We need to find the stairs, or we’re going to be late.”

That was easier said than done. Hogwarts was a maze, and it seemed to be laughing at them. They doubled back through another passageway, only to find that the staircase they had just come down had now moved to another landing.

“Does—does anyone else feel like this castle is alive ?” Justin asked hesitantly, watching as yet another hallway seemed to shift before their eyes.

Elara had felt it the moment they stepped inside. The walls, the floors, even the air itself—it all breathed with something ancient and knowing. She could sense it in a way she wasn’t sure the others could.

Hogwarts was watching .

Before she could say anything, a loud CRASH echoed down the hall.

The group jumped.

“What was that ?” Sally-Anne whispered.

Justin paled. “I don’t know, but I don’t think we should find out.”

Taking that as their cue to move , they quickened their pace, practically speed-walking through the corridors. Just when it seemed like they’d never escape, they turned a corner—and, at last, spotted a familiar set of moving staircases.

“ Yes! ” Wayne cheered.

Without wasting another second, they rushed up the steps, the castle shifting around them as if guiding them toward their destination—either out of pity or amusement.

As the group of Hufflepuffs finally stumbled into the Charms classroom—flushed, out of breath, and still rattled from their unpredictable journey through Hogwarts’ shifting staircases—they were met with a room already filled with students.

The Gryffindors were seated in various states of casual confidence, chatting amongst themselves as if they had been there for ages. Some glanced up as the Hufflepuffs entered, taking in their frazzled expressions and slightly windblown hair.

Seamus Finnigan, grinning widely, leaned back in his chair. "Took a wrong turn, did you?"

"Something like that," Ernie muttered, straightening his tie with as much dignity as he could muster.

"More like the castle took a wrong turn," Zacharias huffed, dropping into a seat. "Does it ever stay still?"

"Not if it can help it," Hermione said, looking up from her neatly arranged books. "The staircases move constantly, and there are hidden passageways all over the school. It’s actually quite fascinating when you think about it."

"Yeah, fascinating ," Wayne said dryly, rubbing his temple. "Or, you know, a complete nightmare."

Before anyone could add more, the classroom door swung shut with a sharp click , and a tiny, excitable voice piped up from the front of the room.

"Welcome, welcome, my young spellcasters!"

Professor Flitwick had climbed atop his stack of books at the front of the class, beaming at them all over the edge of his desk. "I trust you all had an adventurous journey here?" His eyes twinkled knowingly.

Several students groaned in agreement, while the Gryffindors—who had somehow made it on time—smirked.

"Well then!" Flitwick clasped his hands together. "Let’s begin!"

Elara quickly pulled out her quill, but as she glanced over at the Gryffindors, she caught Harry Potter looking at her schedule, where "(MIX)" was still scrawled next to Potions. His brow furrowed slightly before he looked back up and met her gaze, curiosity in his eyes.

Elara quickly looked away, already anticipating more questions about it.

For now, she had Charms to focus on.

----------------------------------------

“One of a wizard’s most rudimentary skills is levitation. Or, the ability to make objects fly. ” Professor Flitwick chuckled, his voice bouncing with enthusiasm as he balanced on top of his stack of books. “Uh, do you all have your feathers?”

Hermione immediately lifted hers with a prim smile, while around the room, students shuffled to pick up their own. A few of the Gryffindors cast glances at the Hufflepuffs, who were still adjusting to sharing a class with them. But more than a few curious eyes flickered toward Elara’s wand—its unusual blend of woods and intricate carvings made it stand out, an oddity among the traditional wands surrounding her.

“Good,” Flitwick continued. “Now, don’t forget the nice wrist movement we’ve been practicing, hmm? The swish and flick!” He demonstrated with a flourish. “Everyone?”

“ Swish and flick, ” the students repeated, mimicking his motion.

Elara adjusted her grip, trying to hold her wand in the same careful way Hermione did, but it felt unnatural—almost like her wand was resisting. She took a breath and tried to focus.

“Oh, and enunciate! Wingardium Leviosa! ” Flitwick called out, his feather rising effortlessly into the air before floating gently back down.

The room immediately filled with a chorus of attempted spells.

Ron, gripping his wand too tightly, jabbed aggressively at his feather, as if frustration alone could force it into the air. Beside him, Hermione executed the movement with perfect poise, her wand an extension of her confidence.

Across the room, Ernie Macmillan and Wayne Hopkins muttered the incantation, adjusting their flicks in an attempt to get it just right, while Zacharias Smith, scowling in concentration, poked at his feather like it had personally insulted him. “I don’t see why we need to make feathers fly,” he muttered. “What’s next? Levitating lint?”

Susan snorted, but Elara barely heard her. She was too focused on her own feather.

She tried the spell.

Nothing happened.

Frowning, she adjusted her grip and tried again. “ Wingardium Leviosa. ”

The feather quivered slightly, but instead of lifting, it just rolled sideways.

She blinked a few times. Why wasn’t this working?

“You’re not moving your wrist enough,” Justin offered helpfully from beside her. “Swish and flick.”

“I am ,” Elara murmured softly.

Susan peeked over at her. “Maybe try emphasizing the ‘o’ more?”

Elara tried again. And again. And again .

Still, her feather refused to rise. Every time she spoke the spell, she could feel her magic react—like an undercurrent trying to rise to the surface—but it wasn’t coming through the wand properly. It felt sluggish, uncooperative.

Something was wrong.

Ron, meanwhile, was losing his patience entirely. He started flicking his wand wildly at the feather.

“No, stop, stop, stop.” Hermione huffed, holding up a hand. “You’re going to take someone’s eye out. Besides, you’re saying it wrong. It’s LeviOsa , not LevioSA .”

Ron groaned. “You do it then, if you’re so clever. Go on! Go on!”

Hermione pursed her lips, lifted her wand, and with effortless confidence, declared, “ Wingardium Leviosa. ”

Instantly, her feather floated into the air, hovering gracefully above her desk. The class fell silent in awe, watching as she guided it higher and higher.

“OhHo! Well done! See here, everyone! Miss Granger’s done it! Splendid!” Flitwick beamed.

Elara wasn’t exactly frustrated—more confused.

She wasn’t bad at magic—she could feel it. She had done wandless magic before. Even in the previous class her magic had felt more alive than ever. So why was her wand refusing to cooperate?

She tried again, her brow furrowing gently. “ Wingardium Leviosa! ”

The feather twitched but didn’t rise. If anything, it looked heavier .

Zacharias let out a snicker. “And here I thought you were supposed to be special.”

Susan shot him a glare. “Oh, shut it, Smith.”

Seamus Finnigan, meanwhile, had been waving his wand a bit too enthusiastically and also messed up the pronunciation. “ Wingard Leviosa! ”

BOOM.

His feather exploded in a puff of smoke, leaving his eyebrows singed and a faint cloud of soot hanging in the air.

“I think we’re going to need another feather over here, Professor,” Harry murmured with wide eyes, rubbing soot from his cheek.

Elara barely noticed the explosion of Seamus’s feather or the soot now dusting the air. Her grip on her wand tightened, but no matter how carefully she followed the instructions, the spell wouldn’t take. It was as if her magic was pushing against the wand rather than flowing through it.

From his perch atop his stack of books, Professor Flitwick’s sharp eyes flickered toward her. He hadn’t missed the struggle, nor had he missed her wand—the most peculiar wand he had ever seen.

His gaze lingered on the swirling blend of dark and light woods, the intricate carvings of leaves and vines that twisted down its shaft. A wand of twelve woods. A construction that, to the best of his knowledge, wasn’t even supposed to exist.

For centuries, wandmakers had known that blending multiple woods was a delicate and volatile craft. Most combinations resulted in incompatibility—even two woods, if not chosen carefully, could lead to disastrous instability.

But twelve?

That should be impossible.

And yet, there it was, held in the hands of a girl whose magic refused to be tamed by it.

Flitwick said nothing.

But he watched her a little more closely.

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As the first-year Hufflepuffs packed up their things after Charms, there was a flurry of parchment rustling as students checked their schedules. The group had barely made it through the moving staircases earlier, so confirming where they were supposed to go next seemed wise.

“Right, next up... Potions with Gryffindor. Oh, awesome! We can all go as a class then!” Ernie announced, smoothing out his schedule.

“Great,” Zacharias muttered. “Starting the year off with Snape. Can’t wait.”

“Wait, wait, hold on—” Susan’s brow furrowed as she leaned over Elara’s schedule. “You don’t have Potions next?”

Elara glanced down at her parchment. Sure enough, Potions wasn’t listed in the next slot. Instead, there was ‘Break’. They had almost forgotten about it in the blur of classes.

“That again?” Justin frowned. “I thought you’d be with us in all our classes, since we’re in the same house. I mean, that is how Hogwarts classes work.”

“Apparently not,” Wayne said, peering over Susan’s shoulder. “So what do you have now?”

Elara checked again.

“…Nothing.” She blinked.

“Nothing?” Hannah repeated, incredulous. “How can you have nothing? We’re first-years! We don’t get free periods.”

“Maybe she’s special,” Zacharias teased, nudging her. “Chosen by the school itself to take random breaks while the rest of us suffer under Snape’s withering glare.”

“I’d rather take Potions,” Elara mumbled. She didn’t like the attention this was drawing.

A few feet away, a group of Gryffindors were having nearly the exact same discussion.

“Wait—are you saying we don’t have Potions next?” Ron asked, looking incredulously between his schedule and the other Gryffindors..

“Nope,” Seamus replied, holding up his parchment. “Me, you, Neville, Harry, and Hermione all have a free period instead. Our potions is after lunch, and look—our schedules say (MIX) after it.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Hermione said, furrowing her brow. “Gryffindors are supposed to have Potions with Hufflepuff, but we’re separated from the rest of them?”

“It’s gotta be a mistake,” Neville mumbled, looking uneasy. “Professor McGonagall said we should talk to her if there were any problems, right?”

Harry, who had been silently studying his schedule, looked up in realization. “Elara has (MIX) on hers too.” he remembered from earlier.

At the mention of her name, Elara and her Hufflepuff friends turned to face them.

“Wait— you all have it too?” she asked, stepping closer.

“Yeah,” Harry confirmed. “Potions with (MIX) written next to it. We don’t have it now, even though all the other Gryffindors are heading there with the Hufflepuffs.”

“That’s so weird,” Susan said, looking between their schedules. “So whatever this is… it’s happening to Elara and you lot.”

Ron huffed, tucking his schedule into his robes. “Well, whatever it is, I’m not complaining. A free period means no Snape breathing down my neck first thing in the morning.”

“You should be complaining,” Hermione shot back, adjusting her bag. “It’s very concerning that our schedules don’t match our housemates’. If something’s wrong, we should tell Professor McGonagall before it affects our coursework.”

“Are you sure it’s right?” Sally-Anne asked. “Maybe it’s a mistake.”

Elara chewed her lip. “I dunno. It was delivered with the rest of yours…”

Zacharias scoffed. “Well, if it isn’t a mistake, then what is it?”

“Well, guess we’re all free for an hour, then,” Seamus said cheerfully, stuffing his schedule into his robes. “Not gonna argue with that.”

“I am ,” Hermione huffed. “Why split us up like this? It’s impractical. Houses always have classes together—there’s never been random groups before.”

“Well, now there has,” Ron grinned. “And we should make the most of it. Who’s up for a break before Snape ruins our day?”

Elara hesitated, looking between her Hufflepuff friends—who were still eyeing her schedule suspiciously—and the Gryffindors, who, like her, seemed to have been lumped into this odd situation.

“Go on,” Justin said, nudging her with a smile. “You might as well enjoy it while you can.”

Elara exhaled and nodded.

“Alright,” she said, tucking her schedule away. “Let’s go.”

As the other Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs filed out to head to the dungeons, Elara and her new group lingered in the hallway, staring down at their schedules, the mystery of (MIX) weighing on all of them.

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“We should go somewhere different ,” Ron piped up, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he approached them. “What do you say we go for a wander? We’ve got all this time now that we’re not stuck with the rest of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.”

Seamus, who had been standing by the door, grinned. “Sounds like a plan. I’m not spending my break with Malfoy and the rest of them.”

“Exploring the castle could be fun,” Neville agreed, his eyes wide with excitement, though he looked a bit nervous at the same time. “I’ve heard there’s a secret room on the third floor—though I’m not sure that’s true. It might just be a rumor.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind knowing where every hidden shortcut is,” Hermione said, stepping toward them with her arms crossed over her chest. “I’m making a map of the castle to make sure we’re not wasting time between classes.” She gave Ron a pointed look, and he rolled his eyes in response.

“That’s Hermione for you,” Harry muttered with a chuckle. “Always with a plan.”

Elara smiled, watching as Hermione pulled out her parchment and quill, already jotting down notes. Elara loved adventures and going with the flow, but she also thought a map would be really useful.

“I’m in,” Harry said, his voice full of that quiet determination that Elara had come to admire in him. “Let’s see what Hogwarts has to offer.” He turned toward the door, the others following suit.

The group moved out into the hall, the empty corridors of Hogwarts stretching before them. Elara glanced at the enchanted tapestries that lined the walls, the eyes of mythical creatures following her every step. There was a certain energy here, a pull that made her heart beat a little faster.

“I’ve always wondered how people even find all the hidden rooms around here,” Neville muttered, glancing nervously around.

“I think that’s the point,” Elara said, her voice quiet, as she leaned in slightly. “Hogwarts wants you to find things. It’s... like it’s alive, waiting for someone to uncover its secrets.”

Hermione tilted her head at Elara, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. “You think it’s alive?” she asked, her tone thoughtful.

Elara nodded, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Not alive like us,” she murmured. “But... aware.”

Hermione gave her a curious look. “Aware?”

Elara’s fingers brushed the cool stone as they walked. “Like the walls themselves are waiting for someone to find their secrets.”

“You’re not the only one who feels that way,” Harry said, the hint of mystery in his voice. “I mean, with the moving staircases and the enchanted objects, it’s like the castle wants you to discover things.”

Seamus and Ron exchanged a glance, but Seamus was the first to speak up. “You’re telling me this place has secrets?” he said with a grin. “ I’m all in for that.”

The group moved down the hallway, laughing and talking, but Elara’s attention was drawn to a series of suits of armor that lined one of the passageways. As they passed, one of the suits made a low, metallic groan, its helm shifting slightly, as if it were about to speak.

“What was that?” Neville asked, looking over his shoulder at the suit.

“Just the armor,” Harry said casually, though his eyes lingered on it for a moment longer than necessary. “It’s enchanted to move if it’s needed.”

“Or if it’s bored ,” Seamus said, nudging Ron. “It probably gets tired of standing there all the time.”

They walked on, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the wide, empty halls. Elara glanced back at the armor, a strange sense of being watched creeping over her. There was something familiar about that suit, like it had been there longer than any of them realized.

“So, where are we actually going?” Ron asked, pulling Elara’s attention back to the group.

Elara paused, glancing down one of the many hallways branching off from the main corridor. “Let’s head toward the library,” she suggested. “There’s bound to be some cool old books hidden around there. Maybe even a few secrets.”

“Now you’re talking!” Seamus said with a grin.

“So… where’s the library?” Ron asked, turning in a slow circle.

Hermione huffed. “Honestly, didn’t any of you read Hogwarts: A History ?”

Seamus grinned. “Oh yeah, cover to cover. Right after my bedtime cup of exploding potion.”

Elara stayed quiet, but she was just as lost. The castle felt different now, the usual paths seeming to twist and stretch.

Harry pointed ahead. “Well, let’s just pick a direction and go.”

And so they did.

They climbed staircases that changed halfway up, circled the same statue twice, and accidentally stumbled into a hall of locked doors. At one point, Neville pushed on a wall and nearly fell through a hidden passage, sending them all tumbling out near a suit of armor that coughed at them in disapproval.

“Brilliant,” Ron muttered. “The castle’s got a sense of humor.”

Eventually—through sheer luck or perhaps the castle’s own whims—they found themselves in a quiet corridor lined with tall, arched windows. At the end of it, heavy wooden doors stood open, revealing rows of towering bookshelves and the warm scent of parchment and ink.

Hermione beamed. “Finally!”

Elara exhaled, a small smile forming. They had found it. Or maybe… the castle had let them find it.

The group spread out among the towering bookshelves, exploring at their own pace. Hermione, predictably, was already flipping through a massive tome on advanced charms, while Ron and Seamus muttered about how boring it all looked. Neville trailed a finger along the spines, looking for something on magical plants.

Elara moved quietly, drawn deeper into the library. She ran her hand along the old wooden shelves, feeling the whisper of magic woven into them. Hogwarts was ancient, and if there were secrets to be found, surely the library held some of them.

Then, her fingers brushed against a book that felt different .

Unlike the others, this one was slightly loose. Curious, she tugged on it. There was a soft click .

The bookshelf beside her shuddered , dust trickling down from the top. And then—

It swung open.

Elara took a step back as the others turned toward the sound.

“What the—?” Seamus started.

Ron’s eyes widened. “Did… did you just open a secret door?”

Elara wasn’t sure how to answer.

Inside, a narrow, dimly lit passage stretched beyond the hidden doorway, lined with even older books—dustier, untouched. The air smelled thick with parchment, ink, and something else —something ancient.

Harry peered in. “Should we…?”

Hermione looked torn between yes, obviously and we’re definitely not supposed to .

Seamus grinned. “Well, we have to go in now.”

As they stepped into the dimly lit chamber, a thick layer of dust clung to the air, swirling in lazy spirals as their footsteps disturbed the long-forgotten space. The room smelled of aged parchment and something faintly metallic, like old ink that had seeped too deep into the pages to ever fade. Towering bookshelves loomed on either side, stretching up into darkness, crammed with tomes of every shape and size—many of them looking as if they hadn't been touched in centuries.

“This has to be the Restricted Section ,” Ron whispered, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and trepidation. “Look at it! It’s all dark and creepy!”

Hermione, ever the skeptic, frowned. “The Restricted Section is in a different part of the library. Besides, we’d need a signed note from a professor to be in there.”

Elara tilted her head, staring at the shelves with quiet curiosity. The books certainly looked strange—some bound in odd materials, others humming faintly as if containing a barely contained magical charge. She ran a hand along the worn spines, feeling a faint pulse beneath her fingertips, almost like the books themselves were alive .

At that, Elara noticed a dust-coated plaque on the wall. With an amused grin, she wiped the grime away, revealing the carved words beneath. Not The Restricted Section, but—

THE REJECTED SECTION.

She blinked. Then—she burst out laughing.

“Oh, this is hilarious ,” she said between laughs. “Hogwarts has standards ?! And books that don’t meet them ?”

“…I’m sorry, the what section?” Seamus blurted.

Neville coughed into his sleeve as a cloud of dust billowed into the air. “Rejected from what ?”

Harry stepped forward, frowning. “Wait, what does the little sign under it say?”

Elara blew more dust away, revealing a smaller inscription beneath the title:

"Herein lie books deemed unworthy of Hogwarts’ esteemed library. Reasons for rejection include (but are not limited to):"

* Too dangerous, even by wizarding standards.

* Too ridiculous for academic purposes.

* Too mind-numbingly dull to inflict upon students.

* Subject matter deemed ‘unhinged’ by at least three separate professors.

* Cursed. Possibly alive. Maybe both.

* Caused an incident upon arrival. We do not speak of the incident.

Ron let out a low whistle. “ This is where I wanna be.” he was already scanning the titles, muttering as he read. “Let’s see… A Beginner’s Guide to Cursed Breakfast Foods … How to Curse in Gobbledegook … A Study on the Socioeconomic Disadvantages of Being a Poltergeist …” He snorted. “Oh, Peeves would love that one.”

Seamus plucked a particularly battered book off the shelf, its title half-obscured by what looked like dried potion stains. He flipped it open and immediately made a face. “Ugh! This one is just a list of people who have wronged the author and what he would’ve done differently in each argument.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly.”

Neville had wandered further in and cautiously pulled out a book bound in what looked like… burnt toast? The title, charred along the edges, read:

"HOW TO TURN YOUR ENEMY INTO A MUSHROOM: A PRACTICAL GUIDE."

“Oh,” Neville said, blinking. “That seems… excessive .”

Harry picked up a book whose cover was moving . “Uh. This one’s just called DON’T TOUCH ME .”

Elara, still grinning, grabbed a thick tome from the center shelf and dusted off the front. The title revealed itself in large, chaotic scrawl:

“The Hogwarts Book of Secrets (and Some Useless Facts).”

She tilted her head. “Ohhh. Now this looks interesting.”

The moment she cracked open the cover, a cascade of notes tumbled out—layers upon layers of handwritten messages stuffed between the pages over centuries . They littered the floor like forgotten whispers of students long gone.

The group gathered around as Elara carefully picked one up and read aloud:

"I opened a book here and it tried to bargain for my soul. 2/10, wouldn’t recommend."

Seamus wheezed . “Okay, but what was the deal? What was it offering? I need details !”

Hermione picked up another note, shaking her head.

"Found a cookbook in here once. Tried the recipe. Woke up in the Hospital Wing."

Ron snatched up another.

"Snape threw my Potions essay in here. Rude."

Harry lost it . “Oh, brutal .”

Elara flipped through the book, eyes flicking over centuries of students’ thoughts, warnings, and absolute nonsense .

"Hogwarts professors threw my dad’s book in here because they said it was ‘too unhinged’ for education. I read it. They were right."

"Whoever threw ‘The Art of Wizarding Pick-Up Lines’ in here, thank you. You saved us all."

Seamus perked up. “Wait, that’s in here? We have to look.”

Rummaging through the shelves, he yanked out a book with gold-embossed swirls on the cover. The title?

“The Art of Wizarding Pick-Up Lines: A Guide to Enchanting Encounters.”

Hermione buried her face in her hands. “No.”

Seamus eagerly flipped to a random page and cleared his throat.

“‘Are you made of basilisk venom? Because you’ve left me paralyzed with love.’”

Ron choked .

Harry doubled over. “That’s awful.”

Seamus turned the page. “‘Are you a golden snitch? Because I’ve been chasing you all my life .’”

Ron gagged . “Get rid of it!”

Hermione reached over and snatched the book away. “This belongs in the Rejected Section.”

Harry took a book from a nearby stack, flipping through its delicate pages. “These look like romance novels .”

Neville brightened. “Oh, my gran loves those!”

Ron took it, then, the book shuddered . A tiny, furious voice screeched from the margins—

“DON’T LISTEN TO HER, ROGER! SHE’S A LYING, TWO-TIMING— ”

“SILENCE, EVANGELINE! ”

The characters in the book were dueling —tiny versions of them had leapt from the ink and were hurling curses at each other between the paragraphs.

Ron yelped and dropped the book. It hit the ground with a dramatic thud , the characters’ voices still shrieking in tiny high-pitched fury.

“Oh, that’s cursed ,” Neville whispered.

“I love it ,” Elara whispered back.

Hermione, now standing before a large, enchanted scroll mounted on the wall, groaned. “Oh, Merlin .”

“What?” Harry stepped closer.

She pointed.

“The Worst Professors of All Time: A Continuously Updated List”

#1: Bartleby Grimbane (1683-1685) – Banned smiling in class. Encouraged hexing. Dismissed after dueling a student and losing .

#2: Delphina Tweak (1437-1440) – Took points from every house daily “to prevent overconfidence.” Eventually hexed by students.

#7: Severus Snape (CURRENT) – "Unreasonably biased. Takes points if you breathe too loudly. Is he even human?"

A furious scrawl had been scribbled underneath in spiky black ink:

"Yes. And I can still assign detentions, you dunderheads."

Ron snorted . “Oh, he knows .”

Seamus leaned in. “Wait—who’s #3?”

A new entry materialized before their eyes.

#3: Professor Fudgeknuckle (1890-1891) – Attempted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts with interpretive dance .

There was an awkward silence.

“Okay, but I’d pay money to see Snape try that,” Ron muttered.

Elara, near tears, had to physically bite her lip to keep from cackling.

Meanwhile, Hermione was already inspecting another shelf, pulling out ancient notebooks and scrolls from a moldy trunk. The label read:

“Hogwarts: Beta Version” – The Founders’ Early Drafts.

Harry peeked over her shoulder. “Wait, what ?”

* A scroll titled "Salazar’s To-Do List":

* Build secret chamber (for educational purposes).

* Convince Godric that fire-breathing statues are not school spirit.

* Find better name for Slytherin House. (“Slither-in” was not my idea.)

* Rowena’s "Rejected House Mascots" sketchbook:

* Ravenclaw: A literal claw (“Too literal?”)

* Gryffindor: A goldfish (“Symbolizes courage! (…Fine, lions.)”)

* Hufflepuff: A very aggressive turnip (“Helga, no.”)

* Godric’s "Defense Against the Dark Arts: First Draft":

* Lesson 1: Stab it.

* Lesson 2: Stab it with fire.

* Helga’s note: “Why are you like this?”

“This is historical, ” Hermione whispered, clutching the scrolls like sacred texts.

“This is hilarious, ” Ron corrected, snorting at Godric’s doodle of a wizard karate-chopping a dementor.

Elara flipped further down the parchment. “Look! Here’s a rough draft of the castle’s layout.”

The original blueprint was wildly different—there was a GIANT tower labeled “Hufflepuff’s Cozy Cottage” (crossed out angrily), a hidden room labeled “Slytherin’s Super Secret Lair” (also crossed out), and three separate dueling platforms sketched in with the note: “Gryffindor insists this is necessary”.

Hermione shook her head. “I can’t believe we’re reading Hogwarts’ first draft .”

Harry, meanwhile, had wandered over to a particularly chaotic looking section labeled THE STUDENT STASH. His eyes widened. “Guys? I think we found something.”

The group crowded around the wooden crate labeled Property of Mischief Managed. Inside:

* A vial of “Instant Mustache” potion (Lasts 1 hour. Or 3 days. No refunds.)

* A folded piece of parchment that squirmed when touched. Harry opened it to reveal:

“Padfoot’s Guide to Sneaking Out: Step 1—Distract Filch with a fake scream. Step 2—RUN.”

* A folded parchment that barked like a dog when touched. Unfurled, it read: “Moony’s Guide to Surviving Full Moons: 1) Hide the good china. 2) Do not howl near Filch’s office. 3) Chocolate fixes everything.”

“Blimey,” Ron breathed. “My brothers would sell their souls for this stuff.”

Then next to the crate was another compartment with centuries’ worth of hidden contraband. Some of it was clearly prank-related—shrink potions, joke quills, self-writing essays—but one bottle in particular caught their attention. A dusty old vial labeled:

LOVE POTION EXPERIMENT. DO NOT USE ON SNAPE.

Elara wheezed .

“Okay, okay— ” Ron held up a hand. “I have to know. What happened?”

Underneath the vial was an old, faded note.

"Test subject: Severus Snape. Experiment lasted approximately three minutes before he sensed it, hexed everyone in a five-foot radius, and deducted 200 house points. Survivors deeply regret their choices."

Seamus wiped a tear from his eye. “This might be the greatest place in the castle.”

Neville, quiet as ever, had wandered to a small, velvet-bound book that hummed when he touched it. The cover read: “Hogwarts: Secrets & Spite,” opened it—and the book shrieked:

“FIRST-YEARS! FINALLY! I’VE BEEN DYING TO GOSSIP!”

The group jumped. The book suddenly floated midair, pages fluttering excitedly:

* “Peeves once replaced all the pumpkin juice with bubbling butterbeer. The Great Hall was sticky for a year.”

* “The Bloody Baron did propose to the Grey Lady. She said no. Violently.”

* “Fun fact: The Whomping Willow was supposed to be a dancing willow. Spell misfired. Now it’s just angry.”

Then, new, smaller, smug text appeared:

“Oh, and the real reason the staircases move? Godric thought it’d be funny. Rowena still hasn’t forgiven him.”

“No way,” Ron breathed.

The diary cackled. “WAY.”

It flipped to a blank page, where blood-red ink scrawled:

“The real reason this room is hidden? It holds what the castle chooses to forget.”

A beat. Then—

“Also, Dumbledore totally knows it’s here. He thinks it’s ‘charming.’ In fact—hold on, hold on—” The book flipped a few pages, ink swirling. “Ah. Here it is.”

A new message scrawled itself across the parchment in loopy, familiar handwriting:

"Dear Student,

Welcome to the Rejected Section. Please do not get cursed. Or do. I trust you’ll make it entertaining either way.

- A. Dumbledore."

Harry stares at it and mutters, "Of course he left a note."

Elara just grins, "That man is unbelievable."

Then just as the bell rang signaling lunch, the diary shoved itself into Elara’s arms. “TAKE ME WITH YOU. I NEED DRAMA.”