Chapter Text
The bustling platform of King's Cross Station was alive with the chatter of students, the occasional hoot of an owl, and the rhythmic chugging of the Hogwarts Express, its scarlet body gleaming under the golden morning sun. Steam curled around the feet of parents and students alike, a thick, misty veil that momentarily obscured figures before revealing them once more. The air carried the crisp scent of autumn and the subtle sweetness of pumpkin pasties being sold from a trolley nearby.
Standing amidst the commotion were the Potters.
The eldest daughter of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, Nicolette Sirius Potter—better known as Colet—is every bit the embodiment of both her parents' legacies. A proud Gryffindor, she inherited her father’s sense of justice and her mother’s fierce determination. Standing at an average height with striking auburn hair and warm brown eyes, Colet carries herself with a confidence that is neither overbearing nor arrogant. She is known for her sharp mind, a quick wit that makes her both an excellent duelist and an even better friend.
Though a Gryffindor through and through, Colet shares some of her mother’s tactical thinking, often balancing bravery with cleverness. She excels in Defense Against the Dark Arts, easily one of the most skilled duelists in her year. While she has a protective streak—especially when it comes to her younger sister Stacey—she never coddles, believing instead in pushing people to their best. Despite her strong personality, she has a lighthearted side, often engaging in playful banter with her friends.
The second daughter of Harry and Ginny, Stacey is both a contrast and complement to her older sister. A proud Slytherin, she stands slightly taller than Colet, with long dark red hair and piercing green eyes. While she shares her sister’s sharp tongue, her words tend to carry more bite, laced with sarcasm and a devil-may-care attitude that often gets her into trouble.
As Slytherin’s Quidditch Seeker, she inherited her father’s talent for flying, though she plays with a more aggressive and strategic approach. Unlike Colet, who leans into her Gryffindor nature, Stacey embraces the cunning and ambition of her house, using her intellect to navigate both the pitch and the social hierarchy of Hogwarts. Despite this, she has a sense of loyalty that runs deep, particularly when it comes to those she cares about.
Stacey had her arms crossed and a scowl plastered on her face. Her emerald-green eyes, inherited from their father, burned with irritation.
Colet grinned. "Merlin’s beard, Stacey, you look like someone just told you Bertie Bott’s discontinued your favorite flavor."
Stacey rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up. Unlike some people, I don't enjoy waking up at the crack of dawn just to stand around in a crowded station."
"Right, because you’re such a night owl. Funny, considering you pass out before I even finish one chapter of my book at night."
"It’s called beauty sleep, Colet. Something you clearly don’t prioritize."
Before Colet could retaliate, another voice chimed in. "And here I thought I was walking into a family reunion, not a sibling roast session."
Maraiah Lysandra Scamander, known to her friends simply as Aiah, strolled toward them, her prefect badge gleaming under the sunlight. Her sharp blue eyes twinkled with amusement, her expression composed as always. Daughter of Luna Lovegood and Rolf Scamander, Aiah is a walking contradiction—soft-spoken yet sharp-witted, gentle yet unyielding. A Ravenclaw Prefect in her fifth year, she carries the best of both her parents: her father’s deep connection to magical creatures and her mother’s open-minded wisdom. With wavy golden-brown hair and clear blue eyes, she has an ethereal quality about her, though she is far more grounded than her mother.
Though naturally intelligent, she doesn’t flaunt her knowledge. Instead, she often delivers sharp-witted remarks with an effortless ease, especially when trading barbs with Stacey Potter. Their dynamic is one of constant teasing and sharp sarcasm, but there’s a depth to their exchanges, something unspoken beneath the words.
As Colet’s closest friend, Aiah balances out her Gryffindor counterpart’s impulsiveness with measured wisdom, though she’s not above teasing her either. While she may not be as outspoken as some of her peers, those who know her understand that Aiah Scamander always sees more than she lets on.
"Scamander," Stacey greeted, smirking. "What a surprise. I thought you’d be too busy reading some obscure magical creature guide to grace us with your presence."
Aiah raised a brow. "And I thought you’d be too busy glaring at innocent bystanders to notice."
"Oh, don’t flatter yourself. I only waste my glares on people who truly deserve them."
"So, yourself then? That’s quite the self-awareness, Potter. I’m impressed."
Colet sighed, shaking her head. "Right, here we go again."
"What can I say? It’s tradition," Stacey said with a smirk, eyes flicking back to Aiah.
"More like a bad habit," Aiah countered, tilting her head. "Though I have to say, it’s admirable how you keep up despite always losing."
Before Stacey could respond, another voice cut through. "Oh, fantastic. I can hear the sarcasm from across the platform."
Jhoanna Rose Weasley had finally arrived, slightly out of breath, her bright eyes flickering between her cousins and Aiah. Daughter of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, Jhoanna is a blend of both her parents’ most distinct traits. A proud Gryffindor, she inherited her father’s love for Quidditch and her mother’s undeniable intelligence. She stands with an athletic build, her curly brown hair often tied up in a messy ponytail, and her hazel eyes always bright with excitement.
Unlike her cousin Stacey, who embraces the strategic and cunning aspects of her house, Jhoanna wears her Gryffindor badge with unshakable pride. As Gryffindor’s Keeper, she plays with a mix of calculated skill and raw determination, embodying her father’s never-back-down attitude. But beyond her athleticism, Jhoanna possesses a warmth that makes her an easy person to befriend. She is quick to defend those who need it and is often found at the center of group antics.
"Jhoanna!" Colet exclaimed, grinning wickedly. "Perfect timing. We were just about to start on how you always manage to be late despite living with the most organized person in the world."
"I am not always late!" Jhoanna protested, placing her hands on her hips.
Aiah smirked. "You arrived after me, which is already saying something."
"I had to double-check my trunk!" Jhoanna argued. "You lot would be in a right state if I forgot something important."
Stacey let out a mock gasp. "Oh, of course! What would we do without Jhoanna’s emergency quill supply?"
"Or her seventeen sets of color-coded parchment?" Aiah added.
"Laugh all you want, but don’t come crying to me when you forget your own things," Jhoanna huffed, crossing her arms. "I am a vital part of this friend group."
"Oh, obviously," Colet said, nodding solemnly. "Who else would we tease mercilessly?"
Jhoanna groaned, but there was a smile on her face. "I hate you all."
"No, you don’t," Stacey said, throwing an arm around Jhoanna’s shoulder. "Now, let’s get moving before the train leaves without us."
From a little distance away, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Luna observed the lively scene with soft smiles. Hermione nudged Harry. "They remind me of someone."
Harry sighed dramatically. "I have no idea what you mean."
Ron snorted. "Yeah, sure you don’t."
Luna tilted her head thoughtfully. "I think it’s quite nice. Banter is a sign of closeness, after all."
Ginny grinned. "Let’s just hope they make it onto the train before it leaves."
Back with the group, Colet checked her watch. "Speaking of, we should probably start heading in before we actually miss it."
"Race you to the entrance?" Stacey challenged, already taking a step ahead.
Aiah smirked. "You’d lose."
"We’ll see about that, Scamander." And with that, the group grabbed their trunks and darted toward the train, their laughter echoing through the platform.
Gweneth Macmillan and Mikhaela Janna Duke sat across from each other in a quiet compartment of the Hogwarts Express, the soft hum of the train filling the air as the countryside blurred past the window. Gwen, ever the picture of warmth, had her blonde hair tied in a loose braid, her bright brown eyes twinkling as she spoke animatedly. She exuded a natural cheerfulness, her Hufflepuff robes neat and well-kept, a contrast to the slightly rumpled state of Mikha’s.
Mikha, on the other hand, was more subdued, leaning against the cushioned seat with her arms loosely crossed. Her wavy black hair framed her calm, observant expression, her dark eyes flickering between Gwen and the passing scenery outside. She was a person of few words, preferring to listen rather than to speak, her presence quiet but grounding. Despite their differing energies, the two complemented each other effortlessly.
“So, if you could only eat one thing from the trolley for the rest of your life, what would it be?” Gwen asked, twirling a loose strand of her hair between her fingers, her lips curling into a teasing smile.
Mikha’s gaze shifted lazily from the window to her friend. “Pumpkin Pasties,” she replied after a moment, her voice low and thoughtful.
Gwen gasped dramatically. “Not Chocolate Frogs? Not Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans? Mikha, you wound me.”
Mikha only shrugged, a slight twitch of amusement ghosting her lips. “Too unpredictable.”
Before Gwen could respond, the compartment door slid open. A tall Slytherin student stepped inside, their expression unreadable as they surveyed the two Hufflepuffs. Their uniform was pristine, the green and silver crest glinting under the compartment lights.
“You’re Macmillan and Duke, right?” the Slytherin asked, voice smooth but tinged with something unreadable. “I’ve heard about you.”
Mikha merely blinked, her dark gaze locking onto the intruder, unreadable but piercing. Gwen, ever polite, straightened slightly and gave a small nod, a cautious but warm smile playing on her lips.
“Oh? And what exactly have you heard?” Gwen asked, her tone light yet measured.
The Slytherin tilted their head, as if assessing them. “You two are… interesting. A Hufflepuff with impeccable manners and a Hufflepuff who barely speaks. Curious pair.”
Mikha didn’t react, but Gwen let out a small, nervous chuckle, tilting her head. “Well, I suppose we do make an odd duo. What can we do for you?”
The Slytherin opened their mouth to respond but was cut off as the door slid open once more.
“Move.”
The voice was cool, unimpressed, and utterly commanding.
Lily Stacey Potter stood in the doorway, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her green eyes fixed on the Slytherin with an expression that could freeze the Thames. There was a sharpness to her stance, her presence filling the small space effortlessly.
The Slytherin hesitated, but Stacey’s unwavering stare didn’t falter. She glanced at Gwen and Mikha briefly, her lips twitching into the slightest of smirks before her gaze hardened once more as she turned back to the intruder.
“I said move.”
The Slytherin lingered for a moment longer before clicking their tongue in mild irritation and stepping back. “See you around, Macmillan. Duke.” They shot Stacey a glare before disappearing down the corridor.
As soon as they were gone, Stacey turned to Gwen and Mikha, her smirk fading into a more neutral expression. “You two have a knack for attracting attention.”
Gwen exhaled, rolling her eyes but smiling. “Thanks for that, Stacey.”
Mikha remained silent, simply giving Stacey a slow nod of acknowledgement.
Stacey shrugged, leaning against the compartment doorframe instead of stepping inside. “Don’t mention it. I just recognized you two. We’re in the same year.”
Gwen tilted her head. “Oh? But we’ve never really talked before.”
Stacey merely smirked, the hint of amusement flickering across her features. “Guess now we have.” Then, without another word, she turned and strolled away, leaving Gwen and Mikha to exchange glances before bursting into quiet laughter at the encounter.
Sheena Aella Malfoy sat alone in her compartment, her silver-grey eyes watching the blur of green fields and rolling hills pass by beyond the window. The rhythmic chug of the Hogwarts Express was a steady background hum, and for a while, she let herself bask in the peace of solitude. There was something calming about long train rides, something about the way the scenery shifted and changed without requiring any effort from her. Her long platinum blonde hair was loosely braided over one shoulder, a stark contrast against the dark green of her robes.
The peace didn’t last.
"Enjoying your brooding session, Malfoy?"
Sheena didn’t have to turn to know who it was. The familiar lilt of that voice, full of teasing amusement, was unmistakable. A smirk tugged at her lips as she finally looked up to see Lily Stacey Potter leaning against the doorframe of the compartment, arms crossed, her signature smirk in place.
"Potter," Sheena greeted, the smirk never leaving her face. "Come to ruin my solitude?"
"Of course," Stacey said, stepping inside without an invitation. "I wouldn't be a proper friend if I didn't."
Their friendship had been unexpected, to say the least. With Sheena being Draco Malfoy's daughter and Stacey carrying the famous Potter name, everyone had assumed their first meeting would be marked by rivalry, a rekindling of their fathers’ long-past animosity. The school had expected sparks to fly, cold stares, and barely concealed hostility. Instead, in Stacey's second year and Sheena's first, the two had taken one look at each other, shrugged, and formed an alliance that had left many bewildered.
"You're still chaser this year?" Stacey asked, plopping down on the seat across from Sheena, her long dark red hair falling over her shoulders. "Hoping to finally outshine me?"
Sheena scoffed. "Please. I'm already the best chaser Slytherin has seen in years. You're just a seeker with a lucky streak."
Stacey dramatically clutched her chest. "Ouch. Right where it hurts."
Sheena snorted but didn’t argue. Their quidditch banter was as much a part of their friendship as their quiet conversations in the common room after curfew.
Stacey tilted her head slightly, as if debating something, before saying offhandedly, "I ran into Macmillan and Duke earlier."
Sheena’s brow arched slightly at the names. "Macmillan and Duke? As in Gweneth Macmillan and Mikhaela Duke?"
"The very same," Stacey confirmed. "They were sitting in a compartment together, and I—" she waved a hand vaguely, "—helped them out."
Sheena hummed, intrigued but not pressing further. She simply stored the information away for later, her curiosity momentarily piqued.
"Anyway," Stacey continued, stretching her legs out. "Quidditch this year. Are we winning the cup or what?"
"Obviously," Sheena said, rolling her eyes. "You're not planning to get caught up in any distractions, are you?"
Stacey smirked. "Distractions? Me? Never."
Sheena didn't believe her for a second.
Maloi Bella Rowle sat alone in her compartment, the rhythmic chugging of the Hogwarts Express, a familiar lull that accompanied the blur of countryside rolling past the window. Her arms were loosely crossed, eyes distant as she watched the vast fields stretch endlessly beyond the glass. She wasn’t particularly waiting for anything, yet she found herself listening when the muffled voices from the next compartment filtered through the thin walls.
She wasn’t expecting company, nor did she particularly seek it out. But the faint hum of voices from the next compartment over, caught her attention. Maloi was not one to eavesdrop—at least, not openly—but there was something familiar about the voices. One was warm, amused, and teasing. The other was steady, logical, and ever so slightly exasperated.
“Oh, come on, Aiah, don’t tell me you’ve already made a study schedule for the entire term,” Colet’s voice rang clear, laughter threaded through her words.
“I don’t see what’s so funny about being prepared,” Aiah responded, her tone defensive but good-natured. “Besides, you’re going to thank me when we have exams and you’re not scrambling to remember the basics of Defense Against the Dark Arts.”
“Correction: when you force me to study for hours while I try to sneak in at least one fun activity between all the essays and spells,” Colet countered, a smile evident in her voice.
Maloi felt something shift inside her. She recognized the voices immediately. She had heard of them, of course. Everyone had. Nicolette Sirius Potter, eldest daughter of the Boy Who Lived, a brilliant and formidable witch. Maraiah Lysandra Scamander, the daughter of Luna Lovegood, one of the top students at Hogwarts, wise beyond her years and always composed. The two were among Hogwarts' most talented witches, always at the top of their classes.They were well-known in their own rights, yet here they were, laughing over study schedules and exams, teasing each other like any normal friends.
“Remember when we were eight and you tried to convince me that running into a tree at full speed would get me through Platform 9¾?” Colet said, voice dripping with mock betrayal.
Aiah chuckled. “I maintain that I was testing your Gryffindor courage. Besides, you were the one who actually did it.”
“Because I trusted you!” Colet exclaimed, but there was fondness in her exasperation. “Dad had to stop Mum from hexing you when she found out.”
Maloi, despite herself, found the corner of her lips twitching slightly. It was rare to hear the famous Potter and Scamander heirs speak of their childhood in such an unguarded manner. Stories about them were often about their achievements, their legacies, the weight of their last names. But this—this was different. This was genuine.
She couldn't help but feel a slight pang of something—was it envy? Or curiosity? Maloi was used to being on the outskirts, but in moments like these, she wondered what it would be like to be part of something like that. To have someone who knew you so well, who could make even the mundane moments feel special. Their conversation was easygoing, a mix of casual discussions about schoolwork and reminiscing about childhood. Maloi wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping, but the steady cadence of their voices was hard to ignore.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the rustle of movement. Colet announced she was going to the trolley to grab something. The faint sound of movement followed, and Maloi turned her head slightly, just as the door to her compartment slid open momentarily. It was a brief, fleeting moment, but their eyes met.
Colet felt momentarily stunned. . It wasn’t just that the girl was beautiful—though she undeniably was. There was something about her presence, an aura of quiet intensity that pulled at her attention. She had seen many faces at Hogwarts, but somehow, this one was unfamiliar. That was rar. This was the first time she felt like she was looking at someone who held something just out of reach, something almost familiar yet entirely unknown.
How had Colet never noticed her before? She was sure she would have remembered someone like that.
For Maloi, there was no such uncertainty. She knew exactly who Colet was. Everyone did. The famed eldest daughter of the Boy Who Lived, carrying the legacy of her father while carving her own path as one of Hogwarts’ brightest. And Aiah, the ever-dedicated prefect and top student. Then, of course, there was Stacey Potter, the younger sister—brilliant in her own right and already making waves as a formidable Quidditch Seeker, much like their father.
A moment stretched between them, filled with nothing but silence and a mutual recognition neither of them fully understood yet. Then, just as quickly as it happened, Colet gave a polite nod and turned away, heading towards the trolley.
Maloi watched her go, her curiosity sparked. She had spent years avoiding unnecessary attachments, floating in the background while others took the spotlight. But for the first time in a long while, she found herself intrigued by someone.
Colet Potter.
And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.