Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Rochelle hums as she mindlessly taps her pencil against her lips, looking down at her notebook, perturbed. She glances back at the computer screen in front of her and reads more of the Harry Potter spells wiki she has pulled up. This damned most recent hyperfixation of hers is causing her to do more research than she ever did on college homework. 

Recently, she has been obsessed with learning, documenting, expanding, and creating spells within the Harry Potter universe. She has read countless fanfiction and documented the spells created in those stories in her notebook, alongside the canon spells. She was now working out the logistics of new spells and figuring out what the incantation would be, having tried various combinations of translations from the most common languages Harry Potter incantations primarily use.

An alarm went off, and she looked down at her phone, noticing the note attached to the alarm that read “Work in 1 hour. Eat something,” as she often forgets to eat before work if she is this engrossed in her fixations. So she breathed a disappointed sigh before complying with the request. She packed up her laptop in her school bag and grabbed her notebook, maintaining it in her hand, before heading out of her college's student center.

Rochelle is a 23-year-old arts student living in northeastern America. She’s an average sort of pretty with soft facial features. Her long hair was her main defining feature, long down to her hips, and had a gradient of her natural brown hair at the roots to a bright red at the very ends. Her hazel brown eyes are rendered dark against her pale white skin. She is just your everyday nerdy college student whose current nerdy obsession is, yet again, Harry Potter.

Every couple of years or so, this hyperfixation reappears in her thoughts in a different form from its previous incarnation. This time, it's the intricacies of the stories' spells. Identifying light versus dark magic, the importance of which languages the incantations are derived from, and the restrictions in place to give this fantasy system some realistic semblance to it that allows one to truly imagine themselves within that world. It is this that Rochelle is yet again thinking of as she haphazardly begins crossing the street outside her school, notebook tightly in hand as she practically skips into the street right in front of an oncoming truck.

Pain. Dizziness. Red. Throbbing. Voices screaming around her. Sirens.

What’s going on? She needs to feel something, to move. She can feel the pavement beneath her, but it takes every last spark of energy within her simply to close her hand tightly around the only other thing she can feel: her spell-filled hyperfixation notebook.

Then, silence. A wave of calm hits Rochelle as her only thoughts are, “Oh, guess I’ll never get to explore more spells,” while she quickly drifts into blissful unconsciousness.

Chatter.

That's all she can hear as she slowly opens her eyes to a bright blue sky and some strange-looking buildings. The chatter of people on the street near her. But unlike her expectation of lying on the street bleeding out, she happens to be… standing? Is she looking up at the sky, standing? Just a second ago, she was… was she? There was the truck, then the red, and the pain. She had to have died getting hit by a truck, right?

Rochelle evened her gaze and spun her head around, taking in her surroundings with an overwhelming knowledge of an unknown source. A voice dancing in her head beside her own. Diagon Alley. My vault in Gringotts has more money than I could ever spend. I need to buy my school supplies.

What. The. Fuck, was going on.

Her mind was still clouded with the same fog as after she was hit. Was she dreaming? She had to be, right? Wait, why can't she control her body?

Her head was forced down by what felt like an invisible thread, her eyes scanning over the Hogwarts acceptance letter and supply list that were grasped in her hands. Her notebook was placed beneath them in her grasp. Her legs began to walk in the direction of Gringotts. 

Hogwarts? Gringotts? What was happening? My head said I have a vault. Why can’t I control my legs? Is that my notebook? Why is it here?

Her body kept walking the cobbled street of Diagon Alley. The hustle and bustle seemed normal. Normal, my ass! What am I doing? Hang on, didn't I die? Where's the truck? Aren't I hurt? I don't feel pain. I don't feel anything. I can't feel my body. Am I in a body? 

She walked into the crooked-shaped building and went right up to one of the goblins, asking for access to her vault. Goblin? Wait, that's right, this is the Harry Potter universe. I'm in a fictional universe asking a fictional creature for a fictional currency from a fictional vault in a fictional bank. After giving her name and verifying her identity with a few drops of blood on a parchment, she was led down to her vault. I'm on a roller coaster? That's what it looks like. I can't feel it. That's right, doesn't Gringotts have a track to the vaults? 

The scenery around her seemed to float by. She couldn’t seem to focus on the details around her. However, she was able to see a vault door in front of her, and the goblin helping her produced a key from his pocket, and he promptly opened the door to an ungodly amount of money. Woah. This is mine? When my mind told me “my vault has more money than I could ever spend,” it wasn't kidding. Am I richer than Harry? Rochelle grabbed a pouch from a table that was just inside, to the left of the vault door. How did I know it was there? She then began to practically shovel the money into the small pouch, which didn't seem to get filled. 

Extension charm? Like Hermione’s bag in Deathly Hallows? Why is that just sitting in my vault? What is all of this? Once the control over Rochelle seemed to be satisfied with the enormous amount of galleons in her coin pouch, she turned and thanked the goblin, who gave her a strange look before bringing her back to the main hall of the wizarding bank. Once outside the building, Rochelle took off her black backpack and placed her notebook and letter into it. A backpack? What's a muggle item like that doing in the wizard world? Is this the wizarding world? Does that make me a witch? Didn't I die, though?

Inside her backpack were now the notebook, Hogwarts acceptance letter, and a pencil case with a black pen, a pencil, an eraser, and a pencil sharpener. After closing it up and putting it back on her back, with her coin pouch in one hand and supply list in the other, Rochelle began making her way to Madam Malkin’s. Why do I have Muggle things? Why do I know where to buy my uniform? How do I know Madam Malkin’s is where I buy my uniform? I didn't study the shops in this universe, just the spells. Why do I remember a detail like that? It didn't take long to get to the clothing shop. 

Once there, she walked right up to the desk and asked for assistance in getting her school robes, hat, gloves, and cloak. Getting fitted for the robes didn't take long, and soon Rochelle walked out of Madam Malkin’s with a bag of her three sets of robes, pointed hat, dragon hide gloves, and black winter cloak. Did I actually just buy something made of dragon? Holy shit, dragons exist! I'm in a fantasy world, but am I really? I can't feel a thing. This has to be a dream. How do I get home? How do I wake up?

Apparently, it was textbooks next, because Rochelle walked into Flourish & Blotts and yet again, walked right up to the desk and asked the person there to help her find her school textbooks. Why are there so many textbooks? Eight textbooks for first year is rough. Am I a first-year student? I was just in college, and I had fewer textbooks than this. Is this my life? Am I alive? But I died. The woman who helped Rochelle was kind enough to give her a ‘trolley’ as she called it, but it was a cart to put her things in. They placed her stack of books in the cart as well as her bag holding her uniform and her backpack. The trolley wasn't a full-sized one and was rather beat up, so the kind woman told her to keep it. Who just gives someone something like this? This is a lot. Why am I shopping? Why can't I stop myself? I need to sit down. I need to scream.

Rochelle’s body seemed completely impervious to the anguish in her mind as she happily pushed her cart out of Flourish & Blotts and right into the next shop: Eeylops Owl Emporium. Am I going to buy an owl? Why? I have nobody to mail. My family is in the real world. Holy shit, do I have a family here? Why can’t I remember? I'm 11, right? What was my childhood? Am I even American here? Rochelle pushed her trolley around as she inspected all the owls there. She was looking for a specific type. 

A scops owl? Really? Just because the Pottermore quiz said that's my patronus? Wait, does this mean I actually have a Patronus in this world? Am I able to cast Expecto Patronum? The scops owl was located. The only one in the shop, in fact. She was a beautiful grey-brown with golden-yellow eyes. She was only a year old with the name Aether. Rochelle was overjoyed at being able to buy her along with the needed supplies to properly care for Aether. Holy shit, I have a pet owl. I just bought a pet owl, and for what? Why did I have to get the one that a dumb quiz said would be my patronus? What am I doing? Why cant I stop?

Once Aether and all the owl supplies were loaded onto the trolley, Rochelle walked right into Mr. Mulpepper’s Apothecary for the required cauldron, crystal phials, and brass scales. It was a rather quick trip in comparison to the others, and the quickest was stopping by Twinkle’s Telescopes for the telescope required for astronomy. Holy fuck, I’m gonna be making potions now? I really am a witch. How is this real? Am I actually living this? It feels like I'm watching a movie. And based on the fact I can’t feel anything, this has to be a dream at least, right? The remaining item on the list was a wand. There is only one place to think of buying a wand when in Diagon Alley: Ollivanders, which is exactly where Rochelle walked into next. 

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Am I legitimately in THE Ollivanders shop? Am I getting a wand? If I'm a witch, I’m getting a wand, right? Will I be able to do magic? Pottermore said my wand would be Ash wood, Phoenix core, 12 ½ length, brittle flexibility. Is that what I'm getting? What will it look like? Walking in and up to the desk, Rochelle didn't hesitate to ring the bell. A moment later, Garrick Ollivander himself walked up with a smile. He happily helped find Rochelle her wand, and to mind-Rochelle’s surprise, the only things different from the quiz were the fir wood and the hard flexibility. She did manage to buy a holster for her wand that wrapped around her waist like a belt before she left. I'm still me, right? Why would a different wand choose me? But wait, can an online quiz be compared to the real thing? Is this even real? What the hell is going on!?

The moment she got her wand from Ollivanders and halted her walking on the cobble beneath her feet, the brain fog cleared. Looking down at the wand in her hand, she took stock of her surroundings yet again, but this time, with such clarity it was impossible to deny: Rochelle McCullen just got Isekai’d into the Harry Potter Universe. How? No clue. Why? Even less of a clue. She was pushing a trolley with all the school supplies she had just watched herself buy. Aether looked at her curiously from her cage.

Rochelle stared at her wand and trolley for a few moments too long before she felt eyes on her. There were people all around who were taller than her. That's strange… She was slightly above average height for her age at 5’8”. Why were those seemingly normal people so much taller than her? It was then she noticed the small size of her hands. The large size of the cart next to her that was carrying all of her things. She turned her head and caught sight of her reflection in the window of a shop, and her eyebrows shot up, eyes going wide. Rochelle looked like herself, of course. Her brown and red hair is still as long as ever. But she was small. Her face is chubbier than before. She looked young. She was young. Rochelle was a child . Just like before, the moment she went searching for understanding, it found its way to the forefront of her mind. Rochelle McCullen: age 11, a young witch preparing for school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Unknown if she was pureblood, half-blood, or muggleborn. But no parents were in sight, or mind. 

Once she accepted the unquestioning feeling in her that this knowledge was true, Rochelle put her wand away into her convenient wand holster at her hip. She pushed the cart into a nearby alley and walked in so deep she ended up in a complete dead end. And once she knew she was alone, she crumpled against the wall and started crying. This was all so much to take in. It was overwhelming. She couldn't help but cry. But it wasn’t sobs or heavy breathing that accompanied the tears spilling from her eyes. It was clarity. A clarity that made her simply cry more, because the facts were: 1) she wasn't in the real world anymore, she was in the Harry Potter Universe. 2) She already existed as a character that was undeniably herself, but with such little backstory that she needed to come up with something, anything to establish a place in this world. 3) There was no way to get home.

After a good, long cry to absorb and process all the information she could glean from her mind, Rochelle opened her notebook and retrieved a pencil from her bag. It was still so strange that she had muggle stationery with her, but best not to dwell on that. She then began writing down her plan as quickly as it formed in her head. 

Backstory: I know the future to a degree. That makes me a seer. But as I can't gain new information, I must be a new type. I’m going to Hogwarts so my first-ever-seen abilities can be studied better than they would be at Ilvermorney. This was decided by the headmaster. My guardianship is to be determined and chosen by me. As for my lineage and upbringing…..

She continued to write the place she wished to have in this world with such fervor that when the directions on how to get to Hogwarts without an adult suddenly appeared in her mind, she didn’t even flinch. Once she finished writing, she felt a warm sensation wash away the fear that had plagued her before. A sense of rightfulness. Of truth. As if she had simply written the truth of her life as it already was and not just pulled a backstory out of her ass. It felt as if the universe, or magic itself, settled into comfort and contentment after a fluffed adjustment of the world.

She tucked away her notebook and pencil and began pushing her cart to the public floo hub. Most shops and living spaces had a floo of their own, but the public floo was made for those who didn't wish to use the Knight Bus or ask permission to use a shop's floo. The building was much like one would expect, with many floo hearths lining a hallway-like building. At the front, right inside the door, there was a ticket counter.

Did you have to pay to use the public floo? It makes sense to Rochelle when she thinks back to the Europe trip she took back in high school, and how annoyed she was when she discovered you have to pay to use a public bathroom. While that happened in the real world, it makes sense that the same could be said about a fictional world's transportation.

With that sobering reminder of her past existence and the sudden contentment to pay her way, she walked up to the counter. She paid the man sitting there, and he handed her a pouch containing just enough powder for one trip. How she knew how much powder it took for one trip, Rochelle would never know. Sure, all these questions were annoying and seemed to pile up quickly, but something in her mind seemed to disregard those types of pointless questions. Which honestly made the transition from real world to fake world all the smoother.

Once she got her powder and pushed her cart to one of the open floo hearths, Rochelle got situated in place and took the powder out of the pouch. She confidently said “Hogsmeade” and threw the powder down at her feet, causing an eruption of green flame to surround her. Her vision morphed from Diagon Alley’s public floo hub to a view of the most darling old village Rochelle has ever seen. It would appear that Hogsmeade’s public floo was just a simple flame out in the center of a courtyard toward the edge of the village. Rochelle pushed her cart out of the floo and took a moment to look around at her new surroundings. It was amazing how one moment she was in London, and now she was in the middle of nowhere in Scotland.

The time being a little after noon, she began to push her cart along the poorly kept cobble path to the more commonly used parts of the village. She knew that the Three Broomsticks would most likely serve her adequate food, so she made her way there. As this was not a part of her mental map, it took her a while to find her way there. She was able to get some really tasty food before she began following her map again and headed in the direction of Hogwarts. It hadn’t occurred to her to fully take in her surroundings. She was a girl on a mission.

While the way there was well-beaten and mostly cobbled, it wasn't paved. Some of the path was just dirt. Pushing the cart over small hills and through partial forests was rather difficult and exhausting. She didn’t have much stamina, especially as a child. This made the trek pushing the cart all the more difficult, but eventually, she made it to the front gate of Hogwarts and looked around at the empty courtyard with various planting beds and a large fountain at the center.

It was as she looked at the splendor of her school-to-be that she realized she was a complete and utter idiot, smacking her forehead with her palm. She’s a damn witch. She has magic. Rochelle quickly opened her backpack and retrieved her notebook. She had noticed it in passing when she first arrived in this body, but looking at it now, she couldn't deny it. This was the notebook she died clutching. Upon opening it and examining it, she confirmed her suspicion: inside was all her spell research.

Flipping the pages of the book, ideas came flooding into her mind and reminded her exactly how much of an idiot she was. Why didn't she try a locomotive charm? Or literally anything to make the trek here easier, so she didn't have to push her cart. She glanced at Aether and softly joked to the bird. “Why didn't you say something? Did you just like watching me suffer?” Of course, Aether said nothing and just looked at her unamused.

Flipping a few more pages, Rochelle found the spell she was looking for and promptly emptied her black backpack onto the ground and drew her wand. The Undetectable Extension Charm, advanced magic even for graduates of magic school, let alone an 11-year-old with no experience casting any kind of magic. This spell is highly managed by the Ministry and not allowed for private use. Her coin pouch from Gringotts must have the charm on it, the way she was shoveling a small fortune into it. She could be in a lot of trouble if people knew she was trying to make her backpack into endless storage, too. It was stupid of her to try this as her first spell, but it would make everything so much easier if she had everything she owned with her at all times. So like the idiot she continued to feel she was, she pointed her wand at the now empty black backpack and cast “Capacious Extremis” in hopes of any sort of result. Nothing happened. Not even a slight spark of magic.

With a furrowed brow, Rochelle closed her eyes and began to focus. Began to try and feel something, anything, that would resemble magic flowing within her. And after a few moments of nothing, she began trying to remember what it had felt like when receiving her wand. Unfortunately, she had gotten it while in a fog, so it was harder to recall than any of the memories before the fog and after it lifted. What did work, though, was when she tried to imagine visually. She began to imagine two tongues of flame. Not hot, just a comfortable warmth. One white, one black. The two flames began to dance around and orbit each other, creating a wonderful harmony. A Yin-Yang of warmth. And while focusing on that warmth, Rochelle attempted the charm again.

“Capacious Extremis.” She cast the charm again. Nothing happened again, but the handle of her wand was warm. She could feel a slight tingle in her fingertips. She had definitely used magic, but it didn’t work. Why? Her mind began swirling with theories and shot back to everything she had researched about how magic worked in this world. Then she remembered that harder forms of magic called for more than a wealth of magic and a strong magic core; it called for precise control. How was she going to get this control? By doing it over and over again until she got it.

And that's exactly what she did. She sat on the ground in the Hogwarts front courtyard for nearly 3 hours, practicing the same charm over and over, working on her magic control. Her pride wouldn’t let her attempt another spell to gain control that way. She just HAD to do one of the more difficult charms as her first spell. The more she tried, the more frustrated she got. Eventually, she thought about how her visualization of magic had been fire, and now imagined how fire is controlled in her old world. More of redirecting than controlling the actual flow of it. Like how forest fires are stopped by digging trenches or by water to stop its spread before trying to extinguish it. Or how simple fire pits often have non-flammable barriers around it like stone. So now she pointed her wand at the bag and took a deep breath as she visualized her yin-yang magical flames and began to cast, watching her visualization closely.

The flames split off, mostly from the white and a bit from the black, and combined to make a new tongue of flame that was a very light grey. The original tongues of flame continued their comfortable dance while the grey flame began flying around and expanding without a clear direction. Rochelle then imagined walls of stone rising and giving the flame a direction to go. Every time the flame tried to go beyond the barriers, she imagined water splashing it, like a spray bottle on a cat who did something wrong, basically training the thing. Evidently, this seemed to work as the closer the flame seemed to get to Rochelle’s destination for it, the easier it became to direct it. In what felt like her millionth uttering of the incantation, Rochelle softly whispered out another “Capacious Extremis,” and to her astonishment, it worked. She had just cast magic for the very first time, and it was a difficult extension charm at that!

Unable to contain her joy, Rochelle squealed and jumped in place before clearing her throat and taking a breath to regain her composure. This wasn't the time to lose her cool. So she began loading all of her things into this unassuming black backpack, which was now able to carry any belongings of hers that she may have in this world. Save for Aether.

Once she placed her things in the bag, including her notebook, she pointed her wand at Aether in her cage and cast “ Locomotor cage. ” The visualization was so quick, it was nearly missable. The fire split and merged into a new flame so quickly that all she caught was the spark, unable to discern the shade of grey. The stone walls she had erected before remained in place. She had created a direct path from her magic core to her wand. Now, casting magic felt like second nature. Like she was born to do it. Like she was made for it. The cage began floating and following her as she began making her way to where she needed to go.

Following the map, her mind, which was telling her where to go, led her right to Dumbledore’s office. Now, Rochelle hated the man. She hated how he always tried to appear omniscient with his half-truths and annoyingly calm demeanor. Not to mention the fact that he was the one to have left Harry in the hands of the Dursleys. He didn’t even try to make sure Sirius got a trial before getting thrown into Azkaban. He seemed to have actively wanted Harry to grow up abused, ripe for the manipulating. Unfortunately for Rochelle, she needed his help getting her chosen guardians to agree. Well, less needed his help per se, and more his position as Chief Warlock in the Wizengamot to serve as witness.

Oddly enough, Dumbledore just happened to be going into his office as she approached. That makes getting in without the password easier than anticipated. Seeing the man in person caused unimaginable rage to bubble in her stomach. It took everything in her not to sneer at the old man in a gaudy outfit. She took a deep breath, halting her steps. She then canceled the locomotive charm on her cage with Aether inside and began carrying it. Can’t show all her cards yet, now can she? Taking yet another moment to compose herself, she plastered a sweet and innocent smile on her face and walked up to him.

“Hello, Professor Dumbledore! I was hoping to have a word with you?” Rochelle’s voice was chipper, almost excited. She added a bounce in her steps as if she were skipping to the Hogwarts headmaster without a care in the world.

Dumbledore turned around calmly with the slightest raise of his eyebrows, so small it was nearly invisible. His awful taste in fashion gave him a whimsical appearance to accompany the grandfather-like quality of his aura. He smiled down at Rochelle and said in a calm and knowing voice, “Ah, Miss McCullen. School does not start for another three months.” Either he made a point to memorize the appearance of all his students, or he had to have used Legilimency to know who she was. Or perhaps it was the fact that there was an American little girl confidently walking about Hogwarts and talking to him like she had met him before. Context clues? Luck? Who knows.

Rochelle smiled brighter in return, knowing he tends to seem omniscient even if he isn’t. Her walk-skip-thing came to a stop as she got closer. She gave a respectful nod of her head and stepped closer, saying, “I’m hoping to discuss a matter of urgency with you.” She took yet another step closer, nodding her head toward the statue that had moved aside as she said, “If I may?” Her heart was racing, and she could feel a flush of embarrassment on her cheeks as she didn’t quite hold the confidence she was exuding. However, her outward demeanor displayed a calm that could rival Dumbledore’s own. She couldn't allow herself to feel proud yet. That could blow her cover.

The professor nodded silently and opened the door for her, leading the way. Walking in, Rochelle took a few moments to look around. The office looked much like it did in the movies. In fact, so did Dumbledore. Not exactly with the actors' faces put together, but enough that Rochelle could easily recognize him. The two walked to the Headmaster's desk and took their respective seats, Rochelle setting her cage down on the ground in the process. Without missing a beat, Rochelle cut right to the chase and stated, “I would like you to recount to me your knowledge of my situation, Professor. Then I would like your assistance in securing a guardian.”

Dumbledore placed his hands on his desk in front of him and clasped them together, interlocking his fingers as he solemnly nodded, “I see.” He paused, twinkling eyes scanning over Rochelle’s face. “I am aware that the headmaster of Ilvermorney has deemed his school ill-equipped to handle the study of your abilities. I have been told you are a seer the likes of which nobody has ever seen before. We welcome you to Hogwarts as we do all students. It has been brought to my attention you do not wish to hide these abilities, am I correct?” Rochelle was a bit surprised at how easily he was talking. She expected some kind of bush beating.

She nods before responding with, “I don't wanna hide them because I honestly suck at keeping secrets. I know I'll slip up at some point, so I don't want it to be a secret. But I do wanna limit people asking me to share the future with them. I don't make prophecies, so I remember everything I see. Or read, to be more precise. It would be annoying if people kept asking and I kept repeating the explanation of how these abilities seem to work.” That was the only excuse she could come up with when writing her backstory in her notebook. And with Dumbledore’s nod, it seemed everything she had devised for her existence seemed to be this world's reality. Why was that? Was there someone or something helping her fit in? Best to file that line of questioning for another day.

Dumbledore maintained the same smile, radiating a calming aura that seemed almost too perfect. “That is indeed the explanation I have received. And given your request for aid in finding a guardian, am I correct in assuming you have not found one as of yet?” 

It was Rochelle’s turn to give an air of all-knowing confidence, as she shook her head to disagree with him. “If you remember, Professor, I stated I needed aid in securing a guardian, not finding one.” Dumbledore's eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. Hinting at an underlying annoyance at her nearly condescending tone of voice. “You see, the guardian I've chosen may be… reluctant to accept me as their charge. I have no doubt I can convince them to agree; however, I believe a contract would be the best course of action. I need the Chief Warlock to serve as witness to said contract. It is of the utmost importance as the fate of someone's future depends on their acceptance, and so, I need help.” Rochelle slightly straightened her back as she spoke. She tried to give an air of someone beyond their years in intelligence. She didn't hold back her vocabulary, but tried to keep it casual enough that she still looked like a kid. She maintained a calm smile while her eyes held a more serious air.

This got the man's attention. He looked at her more seriously over his half-moon-shaped glasses and replied in a slightly more serious tone. “Am I privy to knowing who this ‘someone’ is?” His gaze bore a hole into her. Willing her to meet it.

Rochelle didn't lose her smile as she simply responded, “Of course, in time. For now, if you agree to assist me by bearing witness to this contract, I hope to have, then I will also need your assistance to get there.” She made a point to avoid his eyes. Legilimency required eye contact, and it was just too fun to keep information from the old manipulative bastard.

Chapter Text

Mere moments after Rochelle side-along apparated with Dumbledore to the front of a large manor, the front gates opened. It seems they were either expecting this (unlikely) or that this is normally how they greet the headmaster of the school their child is to attend. That is, assuming that house visits are normal. But regardless of why they were welcomed in, they were still welcomed, so Rochelle wasted no time in fixing her bag on her shoulder, making sure Aether was alright in her cage, and began walking forward. Which promptly resulted in staggered steps and nausea.

She completely forgot that a common reaction to apparating is extreme nausea. So it took a few moments for Rochelle to regain her composure. All the while, Dumbledore was watching with soft and quiet amusement. Not a speck of concern to be shown for this 11-year-old student who's never apparated a day in her life.

Once her composure was gathered, Rochelle walked forward without even sparing a glance at the man who she knew would follow her. She took a few moments as she walked with Aether's cage in hand to observe the front garden of this manor. This place was huge, and in the distance, she could see the home's signature albino peacock fluffing its feathers. When at the door, it took another moment before she had gathered the courage to knock. Just as she went to knock, the doors swung open to reveal Lord and Lady Malfoy themselves.

“Headmaster Dumbledore, to what do we owe this… unexpected pleasure?” Lucius sneered behind the shoddy mask he called a welcoming smile. His eyes read only disdain as he looked at the adult at his door. A sentiment Rochelle honestly agreed with. A moment later, those venom-filled eyes raked over Rochelle, causing the gaze to take on a slight tinge of confusion.

Narcissa was lovingly holding onto her husband's arm. Her face was a statue of refined politeness. Even her eyes wore a neutral expression, not giving away any of her true thoughts and feelings. She also happened to notice the little girl at her door, but unlike Lucius, her gaze didn't even slightly change.

Dumbledore gave a slight bow as a greeting before lifting his chin a bit as he said, “Ah, yes, an unexpected pleasure indeed. My deepest apologies for dropping by, but there is an urgent matter that my young friend and I need to discuss.” He gestured toward Rochelle with a simple, small wave of his hand. The use of the word ‘friend’ gave her the creeps. This old coot was most definitely not her friend, nor will he ever be.

Rochelle smiled up at the frankly scary couple and gave a small and quick curtsy as she introduced herself. “Rochelle McCullen.” When she raised back to her normal standing position, she let her eyes wander, though she wasn't taking in the awe of being at such an expensive home, but more so, looking around at the rooms. “Shall we take our discussion to the drawing room? Or is there a more formal location you wish to use?” She was trying her hardest to act like a child who was trying to act mature. Which wasn't easy, seeing as even with a 23-year-old's brain, Rochelle isn't the most mature person.

Narcissa smiled a bit more genuinely. Her eyebrows raise ever so slightly, to make her seem as if she's impressed. Whether she is or not is yet to be determined. But she took a step back and replied, “Yes, of course. Right this way.” She led her husband by the arm in her grasp to the drawing room, which was a short walk away.

The front door was closed behind them as Rochelle and the headmaster entered the manor. If this weren't a magical world, Rochelle would be a bit freaked out. Hell, she still hasn't fully recovered from all this, so she was a bit freaked out. But freak-outs can happen later. Gotta find a place to stay first.

While following the Malfoy couple, Rochelle looked at the interior decor. The walls and floors were pure marble. The walls are a dark grey, while the floors are a more neutral grey. It would feel cold and gloomy if it weren't for the warm lighting of the sconces and sunlight pouring through the window.

Once in the drawing room, Rochelle allowed herself to take in her surroundings. The whole manor had a dark anesthetic, but this room had a blue tint to it. Still mostly dark greys, but there were some accents of a light blue in some flowers and decor. The room is very widely proportioned, and in the center of the room, there was a long, ornate table. Another notable feature of the room was the fireplace with a handsome marble mantelpiece with a gilded mirror hanging above it. Rochelle smiled a bit at seeing how cozy the room felt to her, despite the circumstances she would soon find herself in.

She walked the rest of the way into the room and took a seat on the opposite side to where Lady Malfoy had taken her seat. Dumbledore had gone to sit at the head of the table, but Lucius was already sitting there with his wife on his right. Rochelle had to hold back a snicker at the subtly annoyed face Dumbledore had made. He then relented by sitting to Rochelle’s left.

Dumbledore cleared his throat after taking his seat. His eyes glanced at the couple as he spoke. “Miss McCullen here is an American student who will be attending Hogwarts this coming year. To, as the Americans say, ‘cut to the chase’, we are here to discuss the Malfoys taking her in as your ward.” He spoke as if they had no choice in the matter. This was not what Rochelle had in mind for the type of vibe she wanted this meeting to have. She had to take a breath to maintain a smile on her face, turning her attention to Aether momentarily while she fought to maintain her composure, making sure she was content in her cage on the ground next to Rochelle.

Both the Lord and Lady let their respective expressions change with the blunt presentation of their intentions. Clearly, shock was on their faces, but also confusion and what could only be perceived by Rochelle as disgust. Lucius didn't seem to hold that part of his expression back as he let words accompany it. “I beg your pardon?” was practically spit out of his mouth. And he would have added more if his wife hadn't stepped in.

Narcissa put a hand on her husband's arm and interjected with a calm, “Perhaps a more detailed explanation is in order.” Her eyes flit over to the strange little girl momentarily before they returned to the old, twinkling man in a gaudy robe.

Dumbledore looked at Rochelle with a nod. As if that conveyed anything. Taking a deep breath, Rochelle returned the nod, as if understanding, before she said, “Allow me to provide that for you, Lady Malfoy. It was discovered not long ago that I have the sight. This is not unusual, perhaps for one of my age; however, this is a new type of sight nobody has ever seen before. As I am the first of this new kind of seer, I've been allowed to name what I am: I am a Reader. I can see the future as if I have read a book, which allows me to remember all I've seen- read. This also means the future I've read is limited and has an end, as all books do. Research on the intricacies of my gift is still ongoing, which is the reason the headmaster of Ilvermorney has decided I should attend Hogwarts instead. At the risk of sounding glib, I need a guardian who can provide the necessary protections for a case so volatile as mine. Which is one of the reasons I have decided I would like you to be my guardians.”

She plastered a smile on her face. It was much easier to smile at Narcissa Malfoy than she thought. She was rather beautiful, with her long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Rochelle figured she would be colder than this, though. In the books, she was described as having a clear and cold voice and exuding a haughty and proud air about her. While she did indeed have the air expected of a pure-blood, her gaze and faux smile were warmer than expected.

Lucius seemed as though he wasn't quite processing the information he had just been given. Mouth opening and closing like a fish, choking on his words like some undignified man, he surely wasn't. Narcissa, on the other hand, seemed to absorb the information rather quickly. “In short, you require a well-established and trustworthy family to take you in their care? Surely there are other pure-blood families that you could have chosen from. I sense there is more to this? Your ability, you mentioned. Perhaps that has some weight in your decision.”

Rochelle nodded curtly before replying with a simple “of course.” She then retrieved her backpack from her back, placing it on her lap, and opened it. She grabbed her wand and cast “Accio contract, Accio pen.” She placed the blank contract on the table before she could catch the pen. She could have asked a house elf to fetch parchment and a quill and ink, or perhaps simply discussed verbally what their agreement would be before writing it down, but she wanted to show off that she could already use magic proficiently.

This got a rather nice response from the couple. Lucius seemed to have gathered his nerve and smiled…well, more like smirked, in satisfaction and surprise.

Once allowing the reactions to fully settle, Rochelle looked back at the couple and said, “I know this family well. I know what you value as pure-bloods and your tactical thinking when it comes to the safeguarding of your family. I know you more than likely won't take in a fledgling witch such as myself out of the goodness of your hearts with no reward for your efforts. So I propose we strike a deal. As fine Slytherins such as yourselves should appreciate, I have ambitions regarding my decision. And I know what your ambitions are, or will be, within the next 7 years. So, a trade.” She then placed the contract flat on the table and clicked her pen. Not even caring that it was a Muggle tool. “I propose a transaction of goods and services that will benefit us both.”

Lucius’s eyebrows furrowed a bit. Confusion was more evident on his face. “One moment, young lady. Am I to understand that in your sight, our family is seen in enough detail that you feel you have the edge in negotiations here?” With the maintained smile on Rochelle's face, Lucius took that as a positive answer. “What on earth would be so imperative in our future that you would risk causing issues with the Malfoy family?” His voice still spat with venom, consonance clipping through the air, but the inquiry was genuine enough that Rochelle answered anyway, despite it seeming like a rhetorical question.

Her eyes were trained on the man with pale blonde hair and cold grey eyes. Time to cast the line. “Your son, Draco,” was all she said before Lucius lost a bit of his composure.

“What about Draco? Is he in danger? What's wrong with him?” He seemed worried. He was worried. The fish took the bait, now to reel them in.

“Mr. Malfoy, that entirely depends on your decision here. If I don't intervene, Draco will live. However, quality of life is more at risk. I cannot say much without derailing the train of your fate. But in Draco's case, I highly encourage derailing.” Rochelle let her voice have a sense of urgency. Her eyes were given an intensity she hoped was enough to convince them to at least hear her out on this. Inside, she was begging them to just hurry up and drop the formality. Being formal always took too long, and she just wanted a place to stay so she could let herself freak out and plan her next move.

Narcissa's expression looked more scared than she seemed to be trying to allow. But before she could say or do anything, Lucius scoffed and said, “How do we know this child is even telling the truth?” He looked at Dumbledore for the answer.

Dumbledore, who until this point was a silent observer, looked from Lucius to Rochelle, then back to Lucius and said, “Perhaps one prophecy? Prediction? Something to show your credibility, young McCullen?”

Rochelle was afraid of this. She can't exactly say anything that hasn't happened yet. There were a few things she could vaguely say, but not in Dumbledore's presence. His knowing anything about what the Malfoys had done in the past and what they plan to do would change the timeline too drastically. “My apologies, Headmaster. If I'm to do that, I will need you to exit the room and refrain from listening in. All the things I can say to give myself credibility are personal beyond measure and should not be shared with anyone aside from those it is about.” She tried to sound sagely. Did she sound sagely? God, she hopes she does.

Dumbledore's eyebrows raised a bit, but he simply stood from his seat and walked out of the room without another word.

For extra measure, Rochelle cast Muffliato as best she could before turning to the Malfoy couple. “Are you positive you wish for me to share what I know?” Her tone of voice was more serious than before. She dropped her smile and met the eyes of the scary couple before her with a conviction that should not exist in a child's gaze.

While Narcissa seemed reluctant, Lucius arrogantly replied, “Of course, child. Spit it out.” Losing any masks of politeness he had kept in place while in front of Hogwarts' headmaster.

Rochelle took a deep breath before saying, “Alright. If I must.” She straightened her posture a bit before continuing. “You remain a Death Eater, Lord Malfoy. You have plans to revive the dark lord. Or you will have plans. I don't quite know when the plans are made.” 

Lucius and Narcissa's eyes both widen at the accusation. “Lies,” Lucius says, not seeming to defend himself beyond that, before Rochelle continues.

“I know what happens in the next 7 years, Lord Malfoy. I know your fate. You may choose to believe me or not, but the fact remains that I am not here to change your fate, but your sons. If you truly love Draco, as I know you both do, you will heed my warning. To remain vague, I'll present Draco's fate in the form of a traditional prophecy.” She clears her throat a bit for dramatic effect before throwing together some Jack Sparrow-level confusing version of what's gonna happen to Draco. “In the summer post-fifth, the snake will lend its fang to the child. The prey is the manipulator the child is to end alone. Failure due to the doe, the end is an inevitable cage for all after the dead die again.”

Rochelle was proud of basically telling them Draco is going to be tasked with killing Dumbledore, but Snape is gonna do it for him. And they're all gonna end up in Azkaban for siding with that snake-faced bastard Voldemort. But it was still confusing as hell, so maybe they didn't get it? Maybe Jack Sparrow levels of confusion were a bit much?

It took a long moment of silence for them to process the prediction they were just given. But eventually, Narcissa spoke. “So you're saying, in layman's terms, Draco has a grim fate? That hardly adds credibility.”

“Ah, yes, but are you willing to risk it? Here is what I propose. In exchange for taking me as your ward and essentially adopting me, I will guide Draco away from his dreadful fate. I quite like Draco. He's got the potential to be a very talented and great wizard. But he won't ever get to be one. That's the blunt version of it. I want to help guide him to success.” She paused and thought for a moment. They were holding back. They love Draco enough to do anything to protect him. Well, Lucius, maybe not, but Narcissa would jump at this chance to protect her son. So what gives? Maybe showing she isn't afraid of dark magic would help? So maybe she should ask them questions to open them up a bit more. “What are you afraid of? What is hindering your decision to accept my proposal? From what I know, a threat to your family and assurance to avoid that threat should be more than enough of a reason to take me in.”

Lucius and Narcissa look at each other for a few moments before looking back at the girl. “If we are to take you into our care, you need to fit in, for lack of more elegant phrasing,” Narcissa says in a calmer tone than a moment before. She continues with, “We want to ensure you won't hinder our son's education or stray him away from our ideology. There is also the matter of your lineage.”

Rochelle gives a slow nod. Steering him from their ideology was kinda the whole goal. Keeping him from a bigoted mentality will keep him in Harry’s good graces and make sure he is on the right side of the war. Maybe if she just glazes over that part? Distract them? Maybe flaunting her magic would do? They want to make sure she doesn't hinder his education, so maybe convincing them that she can help his education could work. “Essentially, you're wondering if I believe in blood purity? You may rest assured, I come from a pure-blood family. However, my parents died when I was 4, and I was left to be raised in a magical orphanage.” She doesn't actually clarify what her thoughts on blood purity are. “Or perhaps you are referring to my thoughts on dark magic? Or my skill? Surely you could see due to my earlier spellcasting that I'm skilled in magic already, despite having only bought my wand this morning-”

“This morning? Surely you jest.” Lucius scoffed. He looked away, rolling his eyes ever so slightly before his gaze returned to the child. “In no reality could anyone who has just received their wand that morning perform a fourth-year charm. Unless, of course, they are from a proper family and received training before receiving their wand. Based on my understanding of your upbringing, that does not apply to you.” He glared at her, lifting his chin and looking down his nose.

Rochelle swallowed a chuckle, but the amusement still showed on her face as she gestured to herself and said, “Welcome to reality, Lord Malfoy.” Perhaps she was getting cocky, but at this point, she just wanted to show off. So she reached into her backpack, grabbed her notebook, and opened it as she said, “Perhaps you wish to make a request? I've done thorough research before I acquired my wand. I should be able to perform every spell in this notebook. No spell is too hard for me. Dark magic as well, of course. I have no qualms with casting even the darkest of spells.” Not getting the reaction to the last statement she said as she wanted, she leaned forward and said clearly, "As in I'm perfectly alright with casting unforgivables.”

Now that got a look. Lucius looked interested. His previous arrogance seemed to instantaneously evaporate. Narcissa looked both concerned and impressed. However, seeing is believing, so of course, Lucius says, “let's put that to the test then.” And called in a house elf just by saying “Elf.” With a crisp pop sound, a small elf appeared in the room next to Lucius. “If what you say is true. Cast the cruciatus curse on this elf.” He made a lazy gesture to the elf and looked almost excited.

Rochelle’s eyes widened. The elves looked exactly the way they did in the movies. It was almost surreal seeing Dobby. She can't possibly do that to Dobby of all elves! Not that she had a particular soft spot for him, but he was important to the story, to Harry. If she planned to be friends with Harry, she couldn’t have his house elf friend hating her. It was clear her shock was misinterpreted for not being able to do it, as Lucius let out another scoff. Dobby looked positively terrified at hearing the order, looking between his master and the new young witch with a small whimper.

Rochelle took a breath and looked back at Lucius. “Unfortunately, sir, I don't think Crucio would work for me on Dobby.” Dobby's eyes went wide at hearing his name from the young witch's mouth. 

Lucius's brows furrowed, and he began to say, “How do you-” a look of realization softened his brow. “Ah, yes, you're a seer. A Reader, as you call it. How could I forget? Is there a particular reason it wouldn't work?”

Seriously? Use your noodle, dude! Connect the dots yourself. Rochelle chose to ignore the snark and nodded her head solemnly. “In frank honesty, I'm fond of Dobby.” A lie, but he doesn't need to know that. “The cruciatus curse only works if you want to cause harm. And with what I know from my reading, there is no feasible way I could desire any harm coming to Dobby.” She steeled herself before continuing. “Perhaps summon an animal? That is, unless a house elf is the best you can do.” She wasn't exactly sure that goading the man would work, but she had to try and persuade them not to make her cast it on an intelligent creature. She doesn't exactly want to cast it on an animal either, but she could make herself do it to prove herself faster.

Lucius sneered at this. However, Narcissa had a soft smile on her lips before she spoke. “You're quite knowledgeable in the function of the curse.” She looked at Dobby for a moment before she drew her wand and cast Serpensortia and conjured a snake on the table in front of them. “Would this do, Miss…” Clearly, Narcissa didn't care to learn her name the first three times it was said, but now that this little girl is more interesting, she must be worth her time. How very kind. (Please note the sarcasm.)

“McCullen, Rochelle McCullen. And yes, this will do just fine.” Rochelle didn't lie when she said she didn't mind casting the unforgivables. What was one snake? Sure, she loves animals and doesn't like hurting them, but she will if needed. And if it saves the life of someone you care about, what's the harm of using dark magic? It never quite made sense to her when reading the Harry Potter books. What made magic evil was the caster, not the spells.

Rochelle brandished her wand and pointed it at the snake. Without even flinching, she took a breath, imagining the tongues of flame again. This was her first time casting a purely dark spell. She knew it had to be a purely dark spell because the flame used to cast this curse didn't have any from the white tongue. She cleared her mind and imagined that black flame burning the snake in front of her, and cast “Crucio.” The snake began writhing in agony, letting out horrifying hisses as its body curved and coiled in on itself in clear, unbearable pain. Her face had dropped its smile from before, maintaining a cold and indifferent expression. All she could think about was how doing this would get her closer to her goal. This snake was conjured. Was it even a real snake? She probably wouldn’t be able to do this to a snake found outside. A spider, though? She'd be able to do this to any spider, conjured or not. Those things are creepy and gross.

Lucius looked quite surprised and… happy? Was he happy to find a child who could do this? That's kinda messed up. But Narcissa, on the other hand, looked only impressed. She raised her hand, saying, “That's enough, dear.”

Rochelle stopped casting the curse. Did Narcissa Malfoy just call her dear? Let's evaluate that another time, but for now, Rochelle's focus was on her notebook as she flipped pages frantically. She soon found the spell she wanted and pointed her wand at the snake that was now lying down in exhaustion, slightly twitching from the aftermath of the curse. She smiled softly, almost creepily, which was intended, and cast “Vipera Evanesca,” effectively getting rid of the snake. She then looked up at the two with that soft smile and said, "Surely that was enough to prove I am no ordinary 11-year-old witch.”

Lucius took in a breath and said, “Surely indeed,” while staring at the place that once held the snake and released that breath. It took a moment to collect himself before looking back at Rochelle and saying, “Let's discuss the terms of the contract.” He had no smile. Nothing negative in his gaze. If anything, it seemed as though he was content with having Rochelle in his home. He didn’t even look at his wife before making this decision.

Rochelle's smile brightened a bit and cast a “finite incantatum” to undo the muffliato that was cast before and said loudly to the door, “Professor Dumbledore, you can come back in now!” She sat in her seat, practically bouncing with joy. She closed her notebook before Dumbledore could come in and positioned herself to write the contract.

Dumbledore, none the wiser as to what had occurred in the room, walked in and sat in the seat he had been in before, walking right past a terrified Dobby who still hadn’t left the room. He looked at the three at the table and simply said, “I see Miss McCullen's credibility has been proven?”

Narcissa smiled at the professor and said in a nearly joyful voice, “Oh yes. While we agree the contract is necessary, we are more than happy to take Rochelle into our care.” Lucius nodded along, despite them not even exchanging a glance with each other.

The girl in question was practically beaming. All the talking before seemed to be null and void. All she needed to do was cast Crucio and say she'd guide Draco, and they gave in! She prepared the document again, ready to write as she stated her clauses. “Firstly, for what I want in the deal. You will take me into your care and effectively treat me with the rights befitting your child. I will have the same power and standing in the house as Draco does, barring heirship. In practice, I'll be like his sibling on equal footing with equal protection. What I am willing to offer in exchange is my guidance in Draco’s future.”

The couple nodded to this, and Rochelle wrote it on the contract. Lucius then decided to ask, rather than order. Which was mildly startling. “Could you use your sight to aid our family as a whole?” Rochelle slightly preened. She had earned even a slight bit of respect from the man. This was a major win.

Rochelle shook her head. “I am not omniscient. I can't guarantee I'll always have the answers. However, I can add that my ability can be used by Draco alone. If I can help the family as a whole at his request, then I will. If I can't, even if he requests, then of course I can't. But if I have information and Draco does not request my help? That information dies with me.” This earned her a bit of a reluctant nod from Lucius. His expression darkened ever so slightly. He was an intelligent man, so he knew it was a bit much to ask after she had expressed multiple times that she was here for Draco’s benefit and not theirs.

With that all being written, Narcissa then chimed in. “I would like to request that you also aid Draco in his studies. Guidance away from a grim fate is, of course, wonderful and of great benefit to us. However, I would feel overjoyed and content knowing such a powerful young witch is helping our beloved son grow in his practical abilities.” Narcissa looked at Rochelle with a warmth that would be assumed to be foreign to her face. It was the look you'd expect her to have while looking at Draco. Why was she already so fond of Rochelle? That was kinda a small part of the goal, but why was it so well executed? Something has to be smelling fishy here, right?

Rochelle nodded and smiled widely, deciding to ignore the uneasiness in her stomach. “If he will let me, I would love to help him with practical magic!” She then added it to the contract. After reading it out loud to the room and everyone verbally agreeing, the three contract holders signed it, as well as Dumbledore, as the witness.

Mission accomplished.

Chapter Text

After Dumbledore left with a copy of the contract, Narcissa insisted on giving a tour of the manor. This allowed Rochelle to let her inner child out. Running around with her backpack firmly closed on her back, her precious notebook tucked securely away in the magical bag, and Aether contentedly in her cage that was being carried by Dobby, who silently followed the pair. Rochelle couldn’t help but admire the pure wonder of a rich family's mansion.

“I have been meaning to ask, Rochelle, what is that peculiar bag of yours?” Narcissa smiled warmly at her, seeming to drop the surface-level politeness she must always put on for company. Her posture was still straight and tight, but her shoulders were more relaxed. Her head tilted toward the girl in curiosity while looking at the backpack.

Rochelle turned to look at her with a bright smile of her own and said, “I have a fascinated interest in No-mag's. That's the American term for Muggle. I find it wonderful that they can function without magic. So, while I lived in America, I studied them. I like the convenience of many of their items. Such as this backpack! It's comfortable to carry around!” Her face froze a bit as she realized she just praised Muggles to a pure-blood supremacist . Oops.

Narcissa's face fell ever so slightly at hearing any praise for muggles, but she continued asking questions anyway. “And that writing utensil you used to make the contract. Is that a Muggle tool as well?” It was clear she was trying to get closer to the girl, even if that meant momentarily putting aside her own opinions. Admirable. And a bit suspicious. Why did she want to get closer?

Rochelle chuckled a bit nervously at her slip-up and nodded, saying, “That's called a pen. It's essentially a quill with no risk of spilling your ink. I also have pencils, which allow you to erase what you wrote when you make a mistake. It's rather convenient.” She knew this wasn't gonna be taken well. She had to fix this before it got worse, so she decided to hastily add, “Please don’t misunderstand Lady Malfoy. Magic is definitely better, but think about how creative you have to be and the ingenuity you’d have to have to be able to function in life without magic. You have to give credit where it's due. It would be unbecoming of anyone who matters to belittle or ignore another's success, simply because you dislike them. Would it not?” She smiled up at the woman nervously. Hoping to convey the idea that she actually thinks wixen are superior, despite not believing that at all.

The woman nodded reluctantly before leading the way down a new hall, deciding to put an end to that conversation. “Perhaps now is a good time for you to meet Draco. If I recall, you claimed you are already fond of him based on what you know from your sight?” Rochelle walked next to her and nodded. Narcissa brightened considerably. “That's wonderful! I'm sure he will grow to be fond of you as well in no time!” She then led them to an ornate door and knocked on it before speaking again. “Draco, darling. There is someone I'd like you to meet.”

There was a small voice from the other side of the door that bade their entrance, so Narcissa opened the door and led Rochelle inside. The room was beautiful, but more of a masculine beauty as opposed to feminine. There were various toys in one corner of the room, some Quidditch posters on the wall, and a bookshelf. There was also an ornate-looking bed, a desk, and a set of seating in the center of the room. At the far side of the room, there were two different doors. Presumably, one was a closet and one was some kind of private bathroom.

Narcissa walked in and led Rochelle in as well. Rochelle took Aether from Dobby and thanked him with a kind smile before dismissing him. He bowed respectfully and walked out of the room, glancing back at the new young witch with a wary expression. Clearly, he was still startled from the earlier events. She then set Aether down on the floor near the door and stood back up, facing the seating area that housed some children. Draco was sitting on a plush chair in the seating area. Scattered on the other chair and the small couch, there were three other children. Draco didn't look up as he said, “I'll be down to meet them in a moment, Mum.”

Narcissa cleared her throat. “No need, love. She's right here.” Draco and his friends turned around and looked at the pair. Draco’s gaze locked on Rochelle, and he clearly didn't like seeing a girl in his room. But regardless, he got up and walked over, his friends remaining seated. “This is Rochelle. Your father and I have decided to take her into our care. Treat her as you would a big sister. She is older than you, but she will be starting Hogwarts with you.” She kept smiling. It was starting to get creepy with how much this woman, who was supposed to be cold, was smiling so warmly.

Rochelle thought for a moment. She didn't know the date. She knew she was already 11, but she didn't know how old Draco currently was. So she looked up at Narcissa and said, “Excuse me, ma'am, but what day is it today? I seem to have forgotten.” She smiled sheepishly. When she spoke, Draco's face changed to a more intense confusion. Clearly, he wasn't expecting an American accent. Or perhaps he was startled by the fact that she was unafraid of speaking to the Narcissa Malfoy.

“Today is May 31st, dear.” Draco’s confused look shot over to his mom. He must be just as thrown off at his mom calling someone dear as Rochelle was being called dear.

This made Rochelle smile a bit brighter and poorly hide a giggle. She looked at Draco, then back at Narcissa. “That means Draco will be getting his letter rather soon. If he hasn't gotten it already.” She looked back at Draco. “Your birthday is June 5th, right? Mine is December 17th. I already got my letter a while ago. I got my school supplies just this morning.”

Finally, Draco spoke to her. Complete bewilderment in every corner of his voice. “How do you know my birthday?” He looked back at his mother. “Sister? Why do I need a sister? And is she American? Mother, what is going on?” It was kinda funny to watch his pointy little face contort as he attempted to process all of this. Rochelle would have to be patient if she was gonna make him like her. They had to get along, or none of this was gonna work.

Rochelle looked at Narcissa as she explained Rochelle's abilities and circumstances, but it seemed to go right over the 10-year-old's head. So Rochelle decided to simplify. “Essentially, I know a lot of things, and I'm here to help you live up to your potential. I’m gonna be your sister from now on, so I hope we can get along.” She put out a hand for the boy to shake and smiled at him kindly.

Draco eyed her hand. He shot a look at his mother, who must have given him some kind of look in return, because he took her hand and slowly, reluctantly, shook it while still looking insanely confused. This made the girl beam with joy. She was actually speaking to and shaking the hand of Draco fucking Malfoy! It only now just hit her who she was meeting in the context that this was one of her favorite characters in the books. She’d have to add that to the list of things to freak out about later when she was alone.

Narcissa smiled and clapped her hands once. “Well, I'll leave you two to get acquainted then. Rochelle, whenever you are ready, call a house elf to show you to your room. They should be treating you as a member of our family. But if they do not, inform me immediately.” With a smile and a nod from the young girl, Narcissa left the room, closing the door behind her.

Once she left, Draco crossed his arms and made a kind of humph sound. Rochelle met his gaze while still smiling at him. Draco's pretentious prat mode has officially been activated as he made a face that was a bad imitation of the sneer Lucius makes. “You're going to have to explain. Mother's explanation made no sense. Who are you, and why are you suddenly my sister?” The sneer melted into something akin to genuine disgust as he uttered the last question.

Rochelle kept on smiling. She couldn't help it. She was just so happy to be here that she was beginning to lose her forced calm composure. Having to repeat this explanation so often was beginning to irritate her a bit, though. “I'm a new type of seer. I'm attending Hogwarts instead of Ilvermorney so my ability can be studied. It's not that difficult, Draco, you're swot enough to understand.” She felt a little giddy being able to use British slang. She read the word once in a fan fiction and looked it up. It's supposed to mean someone who studies or is smart. Being here in this universe meant she had to exchange one set of slang for another if she was gonna fit in. Not that she even cared about fitting in, so maybe she won't start now.

Draco scoffed, but didn't seem to have a retort. He simply implored her to continue. “What does that have to do with you being my sister?”

“I needed a guardian while I'm living here in the UK. I was permitted to choose who that would be. I chose the Malfoy family. After some discussion, convincing, and a contract, your parents agreed.” That had to be enough explanation for now. There were other people in the room, and they shouldn’t know this kind of insider knowledge of what's going on. She would have to sit down with Draco later and have a very long conversation about all of this. She then looked at the three guests in the room and walked past a perturbed Draco and right up to them with a smile. “Hello, I’m Rochelle.”

The two larger boys looked at each other, confused, before looking between Rochelle and Draco, who was walking up behind her. The thinner boy looked at her, confused as he said, “Uhm, yeah, hi?”

Draco walked back in front of Rochelle and put his hands on his hips. “Just who do you think you are!? And don’t say your name or that stupid explanation of being a seer again,” he eyed her outfit and spotted her backpack. “Are you Muggleborn? Or just a poorly raised half-blood? That ghastly bag has to be a Muggle thing, so you can't be pureblood. Why would my parents agree to take in a filthy mudblood?” He backed away from her a bit, as if breathing the same air as her would contaminate him.

Rochelle lost a bit of the brightness in her smile at the accusation. Not at the assumption she was Muggleborn, but at the use of the slur. However, she took a breath as she remembered just how bigoted Draco was first year in the books. She should have expected this. “I'm not Muggleborn, or a half blood. I’m a Pureblood, same as you; I was just raised in an orphanage.” Draco rolled his eyes and scoffed. “We are actually distantly related, if my lineage study is to be believed. I’m also one of the last of the Gaunt family line.” Rochelle allowed her eyes to sweep over the four boys to gauge their reactions, as well as try and identify them. It was clear that the two larger boys were Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, but the third would be harder to place.

Draco’s face lost its sneer. He was the first to speak, too. “Gaunt? Didn't they all die out?” He seemed more receptive to her presence now that he knew she was a pureblood. Or maybe it was that they’re related? Or she’s from a thought-dead family?

Rochelle shook her head. “In Europe, maybe, but in America, there are, I believe, three traceable Gaunt families. Here in England, the last Gaunt was V- I shouldn't tell you that.” She caught herself before she could say Voldemort's name. She had no fear of the name, but they sure did. Not to mention, they couldn't possibly know Voldemort's lineage.

All four of the boys perked up at her cover-up. The thin boy chimed in and said, “Shouldn’t tell us what? Who was the last Gaunt in England?” The other boys seemed to want to verbally agree with him, but Rochelle kept going and changed the subject.

“Anyway, it’s a pleasure to meet you all!” She looked a bit harder at the thin boy, taking in his steel grey eyes and his lanky limbs- Theodore Nott! That had to be who he was! Her intense gaze was misinterpreted by him to mean he shouldn’t push her for information.

Nott caught her change of subject and sat up straighter, glaring at her and opening his mouth to speak, but Draco beat him to it and decided not to push the earlier issue. “Alright, so my parents have taken in a pureblood Gaunt girl to be my new sister. Strange. I still am not clear on your intentions, but perhaps I should introduce my friends to try and be civil. I’m sure that’s what Mother had meant when she said we should get acquainted.” His body language and facial expression seemed to relent his earlier prattishness in favor of not going against his mother. He gestured to Crabbe and began, “This is-”

“Vincent Crabbe,” said Rochelle, taking a wild guess based on what they looked like in the movies. She must have gotten it right because he looked shocked. She then looked at Goyle and continued, “Gregory Goyle, and Theodore Nott. It’s a pleasure,” she smiled as if she hadn't just done something frankly creepy like know their names without even the slightest indication as to who they were.

All four boys looked at her, shocked, frozen for many moments before Nott spoke. “How did you know that?” Another moment passed as his face conveyed an internal struggle before he continued. “And what were you saying before about the Gaunt family line in England? Why can't you tell us?”

Rochelle sat into her hip, shifting her weight onto one foot as she tilted her head at Nott and placed her hands on her hips like a disappointed mother. “Oh, come on. It was said twice now. I’m a new type of seer, specifically called a Reader. How do you think I know who you all are?” That was the truth. She did know who they were based on the descriptions from the books. She actively chose to ignore the other question.

Goyle scoffed at her. “As if that explains a thing. You have to be lying, right, Vince?” He looked at the other large child.

Crabbe met his gaze and nodded at Goyle. “Has to be,” he looked back at Rochelle. “Prove it!”

Rochelle looked at Draco and smiled more gently than she had at the other three boys. “How do you want me to prove it?” She decided to leave it up to him. While she technically could withhold information from anyone she wanted, the contract did say Draco could request that the information be shared. Not that he knew that, though. She would have to let him read the contract during their big discussion later.

Draco scoffed, “I don't know why you are looking at me. But let’s start with you answering Theo’s question. What was that about the Gaunt family, and why can't you tell us?” He walked over to the chair he had been sitting in previously and regained his seat before refixing his skeptical gaze on the 11-year-old girl.

Rochelle took a moment to think. Should she tell them? She signed a contract that she would tell Draco anything he wanted, and by extension, anyone he wanted. But telling them about Voldemort could have some serious consequences. She let her smile drop as she thought before taking a breath. She walked over to the desk, grabbed the chair, and pulled it over to the others before taking a seat in it. She didn't want to encroach on any of their personal space, but she also didn't want to stand during this.Placing her backpack on the floor next to her, she looked at Draco with serious eyes. “Just so you're aware, I mentioned a contract earlier. In that contract, it says that you, Draco Malfoy, have full access to my knowledge of the future. You’re allowed to ask that I share that information with others. However, this particular information is more knowledge of the past and present that is not even close to common knowledge. I'd even go as far as to say it's a complete secret. Based on that, I'm not sure it fits under that part of the contract, but you are asking me to share my knowledge. So I have to make sure you understand what you're asking me to do.” Her face was hardened to try and convey the seriousness of this.

Draco looked more confused now, slowly taking in the information. “What’s the big deal? Why is sharing that so dangerous? I just bloody met you and I already don't like your tone.” He glared at her. Not good. She has to make him like her.

Saying he didn't like her tone made Rochelle smile again. “It’s dangerous because it could change the future as I know it.”

It was Nott’s turn to scoff as he shook his head while smiling ruefully. “You are so full of garbage. Fine. If you can tell the future, what houses will we get into?” Smart. He understood this wasn’t the type of information that could be easily shared, and while he held the opinion that she was full of crap, he didn't take the chance that she wasn’t. But she didn't have to make Nott like her, just Draco.

Rochelle rolled her eyes and looked at Nott. “I thought you wanted to know about the last Gaunt in England. Now you want a prediction for your house? Tough. It’s not up to you.” She teased a bit. Her eyes slid back to the blonde boy. “Draco, pick which one he gets to know. I’m gonna advise against the more dangerous option. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes what houses you four will get into, so it is far safer to share that.” Her serious tone of voice lightened to something more playful.

Draco looked away and seemed to think for a few moments. He was smart. Smarter than most people gave him credit for. Sure, the need for others' approval easily influenced him, but when people got serious, he tended to make smarter choices. When he seemed to be done internally deliberating, he looked back at Rochelle. “You will tell me in private about the Gaunt in England.” That was an order. He seemed to think himself the authority between them. Which is fair, but it kinda irked her. She was supposed to be the older sibling!

Rochelle smiled a bit brighter. “I knew you would pick the smart option,” She looked back at Nott. “All four of you will be in Slytherin. As if that wasn’t obvious. And as a bonus, I’ll tell you the other Slytherins in our year. Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, and one other girl, I can’t bother to remember the name of. Satisfied?” She smirked smugly at Nott, as if that proved something. Honestly, she just looked a bit like a know-it-all.

The boy in question was glaring at Rochelle as he reluctantly nodded. Crabbe shook his head and said, “But I wanted to know the other thing! Everyone knew what houses we would get in. We are purebloods. That hardly proves anything, right?” he looked at Goyle for support, who nodded emphatically.

Rolling her eyes, Rochelle looked back at Draco and decided to take a different approach. “The contract also states that I will assist you with practical spellcasting, at the request of your mom.” She reached down and opened her backpack before pulling out her notebook and holding it up. “This is filled with all of my research and studying on spells that I could collect before I got my wand. I think I can cast everything inside. If I’m lying about being a Reader, lying about everything I claim, then I won't be able to perform anything here. Let's put it to the test. Shall we?” She smirked as she stood up and walked over to Draco. “This notebook is my most prized possession. It never leaves my side. Nobody is allowed to look inside it without my permission or me in the room. I’m gonna let you look through the list of spells I know and pick one for me to do for you. You’re not allowed to pick anything dangerous. Does all of this sound fair?” She looked over at Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle for confirmation of her question. She didn’t need it, but she was trying to prove herself to all four of them. So she decided to check anyway.

Draco seemed to also be waiting for their approval, specifically Nott’s, before he snatched the notebook out of Rochelle’s hands rather roughly and opened it once he got the answer from Nott that he wanted. His eyes widened at the spells inside. “Merlin’s beard! There is no way you know all of these! You're only our age! Seriously?” Quickly, the other three boys practically shoved Rochelle out of the way to look at the book. She was shoved so hard that she landed on the ground rather hard.

She glared up at the boys angrily as they flipped through her book. Standing up and brandishing her wand, she cast Accio on the book, making it fly past the floundering boys and snap right into her hand. She then angrily said in a rather loud voice, “I thought I said it never leaves my side and you can’t read it without my permission!” She was glaring at the boys and fuming so hard you could practically see steam coming out of her ears. Apparently, that shocked the boys, because they just looked at her with wide eyes and mouths agape. She then put her wand in its holster and gripped the book tightly in her arms, hugging it as she sat back in her chair. “Forget it. I don't have to prove anything to anyone. God forbid anyone respect me and my belongings.” She huffed a bit and held the book tightly. What was she thinking? Trusting adults with something this precious was one thing, but handing it over to a bunch of kids was ludicrous. From now on, it will literally never leave her side. Not even to let Draco look at it.

Before the four shocked boys could collect themselves, there was a knock at the door, and as none of them seemed like they were going to answer, Rochelle put her notebook in her backpack and closed it, swinging it on her back as she walked up to the door before opening it to reveal Dobby. The Elf looked up at Rochelle and whimpered, jumping at the mere sight of her and cowering. She smiled warmly, sadly, at him before beckoning him inside. “Come in, Dobby, what is it?” She felt a bit bad about having scared him so much.

Dobby looked even more frightened at the sweet tone in her voice. He seemed to be having a hard time speaking. So much so that it took him too long to answer. Draco regained his composure and spat his words at the elf. “Why are you so scared, elf?” he looked at Nott and added, “he doesn't even cower like that in front of Father.”

Rochelle heard him and took a breath to hold back her irritation at them before looking at the four boys and saying, “he's probably scared because I knew his name, like I did all of you.” She paused before nonchalantly adding, “Oh, and I had cast the cruciatus curse in front of him.” She smirked a bit at the looks that she earned from the boys. She turned back to Dobby and crouched down to his level. She spoke softly and refrained from reaching out to comfort the terrified elf. “Don’t worry, Dobby, I’m not going to hurt you. What is it you need?” She tried to make her voice as comforting as possible. She felt her gut wrench at seeing a character she kinda liked from the books cower before her, because of her.

Dobby didn't seem to find any comfort in her voice or actions, but he did manage to collect himself a bit. He looked at all the children and said, “Dobby has been told to tell the children dinner is ready.” He was slightly trembling, his hands wringing together as a form of self-soothing.

Rochelle reached out to pat his head. She paused when he flinched, but patted his head anyway. “Thank you, Dobby. Could you bring me to my room first? I want to put my bag away before heading down.”

Dobby looked startled by not being immediately hit, but he nodded, saying, “Of course. If young mistress Rochelle would be so kind as to follow Dobby.” He now looked confused as he led the way out of the room.

Rochelle stood up and looked at the four boys once more with a smirk on her face. “I’ll see you all at dinner then.” She grabbed Aether, who was still sitting in her cage by the door, and followed Dobby out of Draco’s bedroom to find her own.

Chapter Text

The trip to Rochelle’s new room is a quiet one. It takes a bit longer than she would like to get there, but she doesn’t complain. She spends most of the time petting Aether through the bars of her cage and making sure she appears as harmless as possible in case Dobby looks at her.

Eventually, they get there, and Dobby opens the door for her. “This is young Mistress Rochelle’s bedroom.” He keeps looking at the floor. A little whimper leaves his mouth as she walks into the room and past him. She looks around and takes in the large bedroom. Her mouth hangs open in awe. There is a large, four-poster bed, a sitting area like Draco’s, a desk, and two other doors that are presumably a closet and a bathroom. She gets her own bathroom! This is so freaking cool!

She can’t contain her joy as she walks over to the desk and sets Aether down on it before giggling and walking around the room, truly taking in its size. The walls were a dark pink, and the floors a dark brown. There was a black, fluffy carpet in the sitting area with couches and chairs that were a dusty pink. She’d have to change the pinks in the room later, but it will do for now. She walked over to the bed and took off her backpack, setting it on the dusty pink comforter and looking at Dobby. “Could you help me unpack? I wanna get settled in as soon as I can before heading to dinner.” She smiled brightly at the small elf.

Dobby entered the room, wringing his hands together as he responded, “Of course, young mistress.” He then walked up to her and the bed, looking for whatever it was that she needed to unpack.

She opened her backpack wide and pulled out the bags she had gotten while shopping, and set them on the bed for Dobby to take. She does the same with all of her books and school supplies. The only things she leaves in the bag are what it originally had when she basically spawned into this universe. She takes out her notebook and draws her wand, casting “ reducio ” on it and effectively shrinking it before placing it into her pocket and sheathing her wand. She looks at Dobby and says, “Leave the backpack on the bed. It’s really important that I know where it is at all times. The rest of this stuff can go wherever you think it belongs. I’m not picky.” She smiles down at him before walking to the sitting area and plopping herself down on a comfy-looking couch.

Dobby nods and gets right to work, placing her school robes and cloak in the closet and the rest of her things in their respective places. Rochelle is watching him work while she thinks. Dobby is important to the story, sure, but she’s meeting him before Harry even knows he exists. He’s currently working for the family she is living with, and by extension, her. Maybe she can just order him to act out the part he plays? But withholding Harry’s letters and nearly killing Harry at the Quidditch match isn’t good at all. Despite his efforts, Harry still goes to school and stays there the whole year. The only thing that comes out of second year for Dobby is his freedom. But what is the main important role he plays? That has to be saving all those locked in the dungeons of the manor in the 7th book. That results in Dobby dying, but he saves everyone successfully.

Wait. Hold on just a hot freaking second. If Rochelle is treated as a member of the Malfoy family, that means she has the power to order Dobby to do anything she wants. If she can just order him to save everyone, if they even get captured in the first place, maybe she can be specific enough to prevent his death! If she could control what he does, she could be careful enough to save his life, but not diminish his importance to the plot! But wait, Lucius could always just override her order since he is the head of the house and his orders take priority. She’s going to have to be the only one he takes orders from if this is going to work. And with that, she has a plan for the friendly elf.

While said elf is working, with periodic glances at Rochelle, it is clear something is on his mind, and he is holding back questions. With a warm smile, the girl sits up from the plush couch and gives him more of her attention as she says, “I can tell you want to say something. What’s on your mind, Dobby? You can speak freely.”

Dobby tenses up and looks at her with a face full of fear and apprehension. His large eyes seemed even larger in his fearful expression. However, being not one to go against an order, even one posed as a question, he reluctantly responds. “It’s just that, miss. Dobby would like to know if it is all right with the young mistress, and how she came to know Dobby’s name. Dobby is also wondering why she is being nice to Dobby and didn't hurt him with the Cruciatus curse.” He finished putting everything away and apprehensively walked over to Rochelle to get the response.

She sighed a bit through her nose and nodded in understanding. Of course, he has to be wondering that. But she didn't really wanna repeat the whole thing again, so she simply started by asking, “Did someone explain to you who I am and why I’m here?” Dobby nodded quickly, but refrained from responding verbally. “Well, I know your name because you’re important. In my Readings, you’re a very important elf, Dobby. I can’t hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m being nice because I care about you. I know it's gotta be confusing, but it's the honest truth.” Dobby seemed to relax and look up at her hopefully. She chuckled softly and decided to get his permission instead of just doing everything without his consent. “How would you like it if you didn't have to work for the Malfoy family anymore? You wouldn’t be hurt or mistreated anymore, right?”

Dobby, for a moment, seemed like he was about to jump at the chance, but instead shook his head. “Dobby should not ask to be free. That would be a bad Dobby.”

Rochelle’s face fell a bit. She didn't mean to make him think she was going to free him. That was a mistake in phrasing. Now she feels like shit. She shook her head softly. “No, I didn't mean I’d free you. What I meant was, would you like to work for me and only me? I’m technically part of the family now, right? The thing is, I’m new to being rich and living in a big house. I need someone I can trust to help me fit in better. I could really use a servant like you.” She took a breath before saying very clearly, “I’m asking for your permission to buy you off the Malfoys. I want your honest thoughts. I can’t free you, or they’ll get mad at me, and I can’t have that when I just got here.”

Dobby’s eyes widened before he looked away, looking around and searching frantically for something. Oh shit, he’s going to hurt himself! Rochelle quickly got up, grabbed his wrists, and quickly said, “No hurting yourself, Dobby. Answer me, please.” Her gaze was pleading. She wanted this to go smoothly. She could have just forced him and not gotten his permission, but even the idea of having a servant felt wrong. If she could come up with something later that would allow her to set him free, she would do it, but for now, this is the best she has.

Dobby looked up at Rochelle and was breathing heavily. He clearly still wanted to punish himself for even thinking about trying to be free, but he followed her order anyway. “Dobby should not speak ill of his master. B-but Dobby would very much like to not be treated like vermin. If young mistress Rochelle is saying she will not hurt Dobby, then Dobby would like to serve her.” Rochelle had to hold back from showing how much she cringed at being told someone would like to serve her. But she should try to get used to it quickly.

She sighed and let go of his wrists. She nodded her head and said, “In that case, I’ll ask at dinner. Hopefully they just give you to me, but I might have to buy you off them.” She stood up straight and rolled her shoulders and neck, trying to forcefully relax. She looked back at Dobby with a smile. “From now on, please call me Rochelle or Miss Rochelle. I don’t like being called a mistress. Like I said earlier, I’m new to this whole being rich thing, so I’m new to having servants too.”

Dobby seemed reluctant to follow this order. It’s not what he was trained to call his masters, but it was an order nonetheless, so he nodded his head. “Of course, Miss Rochelle. Dobby wants to make you feel comfortable in Malfoy Manor.”

Rochelle smiled a bit brighter and started walking to the door as she said, “Perfect! Now, if you’ll just lead the way to the dining room for me, that’d be great! Oh, and while I’m eating, could you take care of Aether? That’s my owl. I’m sure she would like to be let out of the cage and eat something.” She opened the door and motioned for Dobby to leave the room before her so he could lead the way.

Dobby followed the silent instruction as he replied, “Yes, ma’am. Dobby will make sure Miss Aether is well cared for while Miss Rochelle is eating dinner.” He walked out of the room and waited for Rochelle to close the door before leading the way to the dining room.

The pair walked up to an ornate set of double doors. Rochelle looked down at Dobby and said, “Thanks for leading the way. I appreciate it a ton. This place is so big, I'll probably get lost a lot.”

Dobby looked up and smiled at her. The elf who, moments ago, was terrified of this child, was now smiling at her as he replied, “Dobby was happy to help Miss Rochelle. It is Dobby’s pleasure. Dobby will go and take care of Miss Aether now. Miss Rochelle should call Dobby if she needs anything else.”

Rochelle reached for the door and nodded before opening it and walking inside a bit warily. Upon entering, she allowed herself to look around the room briefly. It was dark, like the rest of the house. The table in the center of the room is rather simple in comparison to how fancy everything in the manor seemed to be. The tablecloth is a neutral grey, as if they couldn’t pick between white or black, so they went smack in the middle for the color. Despite the dark base of the room, it was a touch more lively than the drawing room due to the number of flowers decorating various spaces. There was also a large window on the long side of the room, rendering the extravagant candle chandelier useless at this time of day. Why they had a chandelier and not just floating candles, because they’re magical, would have to be one of those questions that will be left unanswered.

Once inside the room fully, Rochelle closed the door behind her and smiled kindly at the family seated at the table. Lucius was, of course, sitting at the head of the table with Draco to his right, almost midway down the long side of the table. Narcissa was sitting at the foot, and mirroring Draco, there was an empty seat with the tableware set. The lack of Goyle, Crabbe, and Nott didn’t go unnoticed.

Narcissa was the first to speak. Her voice was just as friendly and warm as before. Rochelle must have really made a good impression on her. It was still rather unnerving that she was being so friendly. “Rochelle, dear! I do hope your bedroom is to your liking. Have the elves treated you well?” With the lady of the house addressing the new occupant of the room, Lucius and Draco turned their heads to look at her. Draco still seemed apprehensive about her presence in the house, but he appeared to get over the shock and awe he had when she had last seen him. Lucius had this strange, small smile. It wasn’t quite a smirk, but it wasn’t as warm as it should be. He seemed to be…happy she was there? Man, these people are confusing Rochelle with how easily she has gained their favor. But she can’t drop her guard. Not now, or ever. Not with this family.

Rochelle maintained her smile and walked over to what she presumed was her seat. “Oh yes, it's perfect! I was wondering if I had permission to change the accent color from pink to something else, though. And Dobby has done a great job. He led me where I needed to go and even unpacked my things for me. He’s taking care of my owl right now for me.” She sat down at the table and looked at all the utensils. She had a momentary pause as she realized she was going to have to take etiquette lessons. She didn't know which spoon, fork, or knife to use. And if she didn't know how to eat in a rich home, there have to be other things she doesn’t know how to do properly.

Narcissa nodded her head. “Of course, you can change the color of your room. It is yours from now on. You can make it look however you would like. I am pleased to hear you were treated with the proper respect befitting a new member of our home.”

Rochelle made a point of looking around the table. “Where did Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle go? I assumed they were joining us for dinner when Dobby had come to get us.” She looked between Lucius and Narcissa, not knowing which would answer her question.

It was Lucius, saying, “They have returned home to dine with their own families. It would be quite informal to host Draco’s friends when it is your first dinner with us.” He took a sip of his wine before motioning to one of the elves who was standing on the side of the room. That must have been the signal to bring out the food, because with a snap of the elf's fingers, the table was covered with a variety of food. “We were unsure of your preferences, so please do forgive if there is nothing to your liking.”

Rochelle kept smiling sweetly, despite the clench in her stomach telling her this kindness was out of place and just plain wrong. “I’m grateful. Thank you. I’m sure that anything served is more than enough for me.” She began loading her plate with what she thought might taste good of the fancy-looking food.

Draco decided to speak up now, seemingly unable to remain quiet any longer. “Father, why are you being so friendly to this stranger? Mother, why are you treating her like she’s really your child? You have a child already, and that’s me! Both of you are acting strange!” The tension in the air was palpable. His words seemed to irritate both of the adults. Rochelle couldn’t help but tense up. She knew he would be some level of hostile, but to call out both of his parents like this? She thought that by now, he had a healthy level of fear for his parents. She knew he was spoiled, but seriously? Maybe Harry’s first assessment of him was right. Maybe he is kinda like Dudley.

“Hold your tongue, Draco. The situation has been explained to you multiple times. If you are unable to understand and accept things as they are at this point, then perhaps you are more asinine than I previously thought,” Lucius barked. He glared at the child who shrank into his chair. Draco clearly didn't like how his father reacted. He idolized the man, and seeing him act strangely and then yell at Draco for complaining about it, hit the boy hard. “For your blatant disrespect to me, your mother, and our new ward, you are forbidden from interacting with your friends for the rest of the summer.” Draco opened his mouth to protest, but instantly shut it again after receiving a pointed glare from his father.

”It’s alright, Mr. Malfoy. I understand why he’s upset. I wouldn’t like it if some random orphan showed up at my doorstep and declared themselves my sibling.” Rochelle now looked at Draco and said with a gentle tone and a warm smile, "I don't expect you to be ok with this right away. And you may not believe me, but I’ve been fond of you for quite a while. I know a lot about you. Not everything, but enough to have an opinion.”

”Since you have already stated you know us well, perhaps it is our turn to learn more about you.” Narcissa says with a smile on her face and a glare in her eyes directed at Draco. She then looked at Rochelle and began the questioning. “Personally, I'm quite interested in your unusual hair color. It doesn’t appear to be charmed.”

Rochelle froze. She hasn't thought about her hair. She knew it was brown and red like it was in her old life, but back then, it was bleached and dyed. She has no memories of her life in this world before shopping in Diagon. She had no idea why her hair looked like that, and she hadn't questioned it because it just looked like her . She began trying to rapidly search her brain for an answer to Narcissa, and just like when she first arrived, when the mind fog cleared, and when she finally figured out her place in the world, the information just popped into her head at the forefront of her mind. “Oh, I'm actually a metamorphmagus.” The words left her mouth before she could even fully register what they were. 

Draco seemed to have the same questions as Rochelle herself did. “You’re a what? What’s a meta-whatever it's called? How does that explain your hair?” His face changed from all the emotions he was feeling before to simple confusion and intrigue.

After thinking for a moment, Rochelle remembered what a metamorphmagus was. Someone with the natural ability to change their physical characteristics. Tonks was one, and so was her son Teddy. They’re supposed to be super rare, right? Nobody knows what causes people to be born with the ability. But upon her deeper reflection, Rochelle speculated it's due to all the inbreeding. Genetics and such. If most of the wizarding world in Britain were somehow related to each other, it would make sense that one ability or another would be rare. The gene pool isn’t big enough to make it. Maybe that’s how Tonks is one, because her dad is a Muggleborn. New genes.

She looked to Narcissa when she had originally spoken, and now back to Draco to reply, “It's someone born with the ability to change how they look. I don’t have a ton of control over it yet, but I can change my hair and eye color pretty easily.” She didn't actually know if she could, so she decided to try. She closed her eyes and focused for a moment. She wanted her eyes to be bright green, like Harry’s are often described to be. She wanted her hair to keep its ombré, but change the brown to purple and the red to pink. When she opened her eyes, she smiled at Draco's shocked face. When she glanced down, the red of her hair was now pink, so she assumed the rest of the changes she wanted also happened.

All Draco seemed to say was “whoa” as his mouth gaped and his eyes widened in surprise and bewilderment. Rochelle couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction. She took a bite of food while she let the shock settle in the room.

The two adults also seemed to be in shock, because Narcissa cleared her throat before she spoke, as if composing herself. “I see. May I ask what your natural colors are? Not that bright pink and purple hair and green eyes aren’t beautiful. I'm simply curious.” Rochelle then changed her hair and eyes easily back to what they were before, swallowed her bite of food, and looked at Narcissa.

”Minus the red, this is. The red always felt more like me. Not the solid brown. I don't often change how I look, but it's fun to make people smile with my ability. At the orphanage, I often let the other kids make requests of me. It was fun making the little kids laugh when I made my hair and eyes funky-looking colors and patterns.” She didn't even know if it was true. The words fell out as if they were the most natural truth she knew. 

The conversation continued with Narcissa asking about Rochelle’s interests. She shared her affection for music, dancing, and art. She talked about how she loves both playing music and listening to it. They will more than likely hear her singing around the manor often. When she asked for space of her own where she can indulge in these hobbies, they of course said yes. It was like they were willing to bend over backward to make her feel welcome and accepted. If this was how she was received, what was with all the reluctance to agree to this in the first place?

If they were going to be this generous, maybe they'll agree to her more hefty request. She looks at Lucius with a respectful smile. “Mr. Malfoy, if it's not too much of a bother, would it be ok to make Dobby my personal elf? If you don't want to just give him to me, I'm willing to buy him from you.”

Lucius’ face fell a bit from the comfortable expression it was wearing previously. “Perhaps. However, I would like to know why you are making this request.”

Rochelle nodded. She had prepared her reasoning before, so hopefully they buy it like Dobby did. “While I do have money, I wasn't able to access it until I got to the UK, so I'm not used to living in a rich household with a rich family. The house is so big, and I'm sure you have noticed, but you are too nice to point it out. I don't have the proper manners expected of a pureblood. It would put me at ease to have a personal servant to help me in the areas in which I'm lacking. I would also benefit from having someone I can trust to keep my secrets the way house elves do.” She reached for her wand and quietly summoned her coin pouch from her room, which snapped right into her hand. “I assure you, I have enough to buy him properly,” she looked at him with pleading eyes.

Lucius seemed to be thinking rather hard, considering his options. Eventually, he nodded his head and put a hand out, palm facing Rochelle as he said, “No money required. I admire your dedication to ensuring you fit into this family well. As you are not magically part of this family, I will transfer him to you after dinner. He will no longer be a Malfoy elf after today.” His face lifted back to the contentment that was present before. There was even a small spark of pride, as though he knew this had to make him look good in the eyes of his wife and this new little girl in his care.

Rochelle beamed up at him as she put the coin pouch into her pocket and happily said, “Really? Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!” She giggled happily as she thought about how happy Dobby was going to be. It wasn't proper freedom, but he wouldn't be treated like trash anymore, so he had to be some kind of happy, right?

After a short while of conversation, Rochelle catches an expression on Draco’s face like he is thinking about something rather hard. He's playing with his food using his fork when he opens his mouth to speak. “Mother, Father. Might I ask about something that’s been bothering me?” His gaze remains on his food, as if nervous about their reactions.

Lucius glances once at Narcissa before studying Draco. He must have seen what he was looking for, because he responded with a simple, “You may.”

Draco swallowed thickly. He didn't ask his question right away, and based on Rochelle’s own experiences, he must be trying to choose his words carefully. “I’ve been wondering why you both have been so accepting of this- of Rochelle. It strikes me as strange. A young girl shows up on our doorstep, asks to be taken in, and even if a contract is involved, you both agreed.” He closed his eyes and took a breath. The more he spoke, the more heated he seemed to be getting. It was rather admirable how well he was doing at controlling his emotions and reactions. Eventually, he opened his eyes and continued. “I don't understand why she is suddenly being welcomed as part of the family. Neither of you is acting normal. You're being more personable than you typically are with guests, and it makes me rather uncomfortable. You even gave her an elf.”

Rochelle paused. She knew Draco was feeling this way, but his addressing it in a more mature manner than he already had made her feel even more guilty. He was right. From the perspective of an only child, it was like she was taking his parents away from him. She looked down at her food as he spoke, and once he was done, she let a beat pass in the room before she practically cut off anyone who was about to speak. “I think that's a discussion I shouldn't be present for. You're right, Draco. I'm an outsider. I’m grateful to be received so openly, but some conversations are for the real family only.” She looked at Lucius and smiled softly as she asked, “May I be excused?”

Lucius nodded as Narcissa responded. “Of course, Dear. I will check on you before bed to discuss anything else that needs to be discussed.” And immediately, Rochelle stood from her seat and retreated out of the room as quickly as she could without running. Her head was swimming with more thoughts than she knew what to do with. It was like the guilt of what she was doing and how it affected Draco was the last pebble to hit the dam of her thoughts and emotions throughout the day before it broke.

Once the door closed behind her, she sprinted as fast as she could, the way she remembered traveling on her way to the dining room. Her eyes stung. She could feel tears just below the surface, but she couldn’t let them fall yet. She had to tell Dobby the good news before she could let herself feel anything. She had said she would let herself freak out later. Guess later is now.

Once she found her room again, she told Dobby he would be her elf, tied to her magic, by the end of the day. He was overjoyed. Unfortunately, Rochelle still needed to freak out alone, so she thanked him for taking care of Aether, who was on a perch that was new in the room, and dismissed him. Once he left, she curled up on her new bed and just sobbed.

The anxiety she was repressing throughout the day came back with a vengeance. Not just about how she would never be able to go home, but with what her new future actually held. She would have to be responsible with her knowledge of the future. She would have to plan. She had to save Harry from the Dursleys, which meant she had to clear Sirius and set him free. She would have to turn into Dumbledore with how manipulative she was going to need to be. She hates Dumbledore for his lies and manipulation.

Rochelle hates lies fundamentally, so she vows to herself never to lie. If she can’t tell the truth, she will just tell whoever it is that’s asking that she can’t tell them. But she would refuse to lie. She also made a vow to eventually share everything, but on a need-to-know basis. She wouldn’t make the mistake of revealing information too soon, because that could majorly fuck up the future. If she messes with the chain of events too much, the future could change so drastically that she won't be able to predict anything, and she can’t save anyone at all.

Her mind keeps spiraling as she lets herself just cry for about two hours before she is calm enough to start properly planning. She takes her shrunken notebook out of her pocket and unshrinks it with “engorgio ” before a thought hits her. She doesn’t want what happened with Draco and his friends to happen again, and while she could just keep it on her at all times, her notebook will still be in danger of being read if she is asleep or someone summons it away from her. She needs some kind of ward on it. Maybe even something to put a curse on anyone who reads it? But then she would be in danger. She doesn’t want to have to take the ward and curse off each time she wants to read it or let someone else read it. She wants it to just work intuitively with her mind. Meaning she needs to connect it to herself somehow. And what about when the pages get filled? Maybe she could make it never-ending, like the Death Note in that one anime? This will require a lot of research.

Chapter Text

~Draco~

When Rochelle left dinner the other night, Mother and Father gave Draco a calm but detailed enough explanation for their behavior. Apparently, this random orphan girl had skills that Mother and Father thought could be an asset to the Malfoy family. They wanted to win her over, so they were deliberately overly welcoming and affectionate.

That seemed to be the extent of Father's reasoning. Mother, on the other hand, added that she had always wanted a daughter. She knew there was no reason to have more children after Draco because Draco was a boy and thus the heir. However, she loved having sisters growing up and always wished she could have a baby girl. She saw Rochelle as a second chance to have a daughter.

Draco could concede defeat and accept that Rochelle was now a member of the family, if only via contract. But that didn't mean he trusted her enough to be so open and welcoming like his parents. So, for the last three days, he'd been watching her.

She spent most of her time in the library doing some kind of research. She spent so much time there that Draco was sure she hadn't slept at all in these past three days. Dobby kept bringing her meals and potions that must have helped her stay awake.

A few times, Draco had woken up in the middle of the night to spy on Rochelle in case she was doing her secret, nefarious things in the cover of night. Unfortunately for a tired Draco, she just continued reading in the library, even in the dead of night.

Draco didn't know what it was she was researching; he could never get close enough to read the books she grabbed or the notes she was taking. She always had that notebook, she said was her prized possession, but she never wrote in it. She kept asking Dobby for more and more parchment instead. It just lay there on the table next to her the entire time, never leaving her side.

Occasionally, Rochelle would attempt to cast some kind of spell on her notebook. More often than not, nothing would happen. On the times when something did happen, her magic went wild, and the parchment around her duplicated into a near-tsunami of sheets. Whatever she was working on, it had to have something to do with duplication.

On the fateful day of June 3rd, something changed. Draco was yet again watching this strange girl from behind a bookshelf in the library when she seemed to cast a spell on her notebook yet again. To Draco’s eyes, it seemed like nothing happened, but Rochelle picked up the notebook and flipped through it a few times.

Suddenly, Rochelle was beaming brightly and yelled out, “Holy crap, I did it!” That must be some muggle phrase or something. Why would excrement be blessed by a god? It had to mean a good thing based on the way she jumped up, putting the notebook and her wand on the table, and began dancing and jumping up and down. She kept repeating “I did it~ I did it~” in this soft, sing-song voice.

Eventually, she stopped her dancing and chanting and grabbed her notebook with both hands, looking at it admiringly. She spoke so softly that Draco could barely hear her. What he did here startled him quite a bit, “Oh my God, I just made a spell to make a notebook never-ending.” 

She what ? Did she just say she created a spell? Rochelle is 11 years old for Merlin’s sake. There is no possible way a mere child created a spell, seemingly from scratch, in only three days. Despite how unbelievable it was, it must be true, because Draco then watched as Rochelle took all the notes and research she had on parchment from the last three days and transferred them into her special notebook. Page after page after page got written on and flipped. But it didn't get filled.

After disposing of the now useless parchment, Rochelle then seemed to do another sort of studying. She didn't grab any books, just kept writing in her notebook and flipping through the pages. Occasionally, she would place one of the thin ribbon bookmarks attached to the book between the pages before she continued writing. It seemed, based on how many times she used those ribbon bookmarks, that the pages weren't the only thing that was never-ending. There continued to be free bookmarks to use. No matter how much she wrote, no matter how many bookmarks she used, the book's thickness never changed.

Draco had left her alone the rest of the day and night. But the next morning, after breakfast, Draco decided he would like to practice flying instead of spying on Rochelle. She seemed to have other thoughts on the matter as she stopped him at the door to the back garden.

Rochelle ran up to him in a jog with her notebook, of course, in one of her hands. The ribbon bookmarks could be seen sticking out of the bottom of the book. She must have cast some color-changing charms on them because previously, they were all black. Now, though, it was like a rainbow was spilling out of the sleek black notebook with how many colors of varying shades the ribbons were changed to.

She didn't seem to want to waste time, as the moment she reached Draco, she said, “I think it’s time we have a long talk.”

~Rochelle~

Rochelle needed to find Draco. His birthday was tomorrow, and she still hadn't talked to him about everything she needed to. She saw him watching her a few times, but she was too busy trying to make that spell that she didn't have time to talk.

She eventually found him heading outside and quickly called out his name. She jogged up to him and immediately said, “I think it’s time we have a long talk.”

Draco's eyes scanned over her and paused briefly at her notebook in her hand before going back to her face. He tilted his head a bit and raised an eyebrow. “What on earth could we have to talk about?” His tone of voice exuded his clear feelings; he most definitely did not want to talk to her.

Rochelle rolled her eyes. God, he had to be the stupidest smart kid she's ever had the displeasure of meeting. How was he in the top percentile of his grade in the books when he can't even remember a conversation from 4 days ago? And that damn attitude. She's gonna have to snap him out of being a prat pretty freaking quickly if she didn't wring his neck first.

She released a dramatic sigh as she opened the back cover of her notebook and pulled out a piece of paper, unfolded it, and held it out to Draco. “This is the contract. The one that's the reason I'm here. Read it. Then try and remember the fact that you said we would talk back when your friends were over and we first met. ‘What on earth could we have to talk about’ my butt. This conversation could last all day.”

Draco took the contract from her and began reading. His brows furrowed as he read, and once he was done, he held it back out to her. “Right. I had forgotten you mentioned my having access to your knowledge. But tutoring me in practical magic?” Draco crossed his arms over his chest and scoffed, lifting his nose a bit. “No matter what you tell me, I won't be learning magic from the likes of you.”

Rochelle took the contract and put it back in its place within her notebook. Hearing Draco's last comment caused Rochelle to roll her eyes so hard her neck rolled with them, and an exasperated groan left her mouth. She looked back at the very punchable boy and said in a clipped tone, “Whatever. You'll change your mind eventually, so I honestly don't care right now. But you will follow me to my room so we can talk, and you will sit and engage in the conversation until we both decide it's done.”

She turned and began walking, but she didn't hear him following, so she turned around to look back at him. His eyes had gone wide, and his mouth hung open slightly. Either he's shocked because she hasn't acted that way in front of him before, or because nobody has ever spoken to him that way. Regardless, this earned a soft huff from Rochelle. “Catching flies, are you?” She said as she grabbed his wrist and dragged him along behind her.

Once they arrived at her room, Draco shook out of her grip, seemingly regaining his composure. She closed the door and cast “muffliato ” on the room before walking to the sitting area and plopping down on the couch lazily. She changed the accent color from pink to a mixture of greens and blues. Her childhood bedroom was themed that way, with bright and happy greens, blues, and white. But now her new bedroom was darker shades like kelly and forest greens, royal and midnight blues, and black.

Draco loudly made his way over to the sitting area, practically stomping like a toddler. He sat heavily in one of the chairs and leaned back, crossing his arms. “Well? Get on with it. I want to go flying sometime today. Which is what I was doing before I was so rudely interrupted and dragged away.”

Rochelle couldn't help but giggle. “Buckle up, buttercup. This is gonna be a long convo.” She looked at Draco and noticed his raised eyebrow. She sighed and placed her notebook on the coffee table in front of her before sitting back comfortably. “Assume from now on that anything I say that sounds strange to you is either American, Muggle, or both. Basically, I just said to settle in and get ready to be here for a while.” He slowly nodded, but he kept eyeing her strangely.

Clearing her throat, Rochelle got ready for a lot of talking. “So, to start with, I'll explain my ability in more detail. Know why I call myself a Reader instead of a Seer, and why I say ‘my readings’ instead of what I've ‘seen’?”

Draco shook his head. “Something about how you're a new type of Seer, I'd assume.” He glanced around the room, taking in what Rochelle had done to the place. “Your color sense is better than I would have thought, given the clothes you arrived here in.”

Rochelle chose to ignore the dig at the end there. “Thanks. I am an artist after all. Artists tend to have a sense of color. Anyway, back on topic. Basically, I don't get prophetic vision. Everything I know about the future is just information in my head. The only way I can describe it is that it's kinda like remembering a storybook you've read a million times. You remember every detail of the story. To be specific, it's all separated by year. One year for each book.”

As she spoke, Rochelle studied Draco's features. She hasn't had the chance to get a proper look at him yet. He didn't look quite like Tom Felton, but he looked enough like him for Rochelle to have recognized him at first glance. That seemed to be a recurring theme with the people she's met so far. They all look just enough like their movie counterparts that Rochelle can recognize them, but just enough not like them so she doesn't project her thoughts and feelings about the actors onto these very real book characters.

Draco looked intrigued by her explanation. “A story book? Sounds like you're describing more of a series than a single book. Does that mean there's a main character? Is that why you're here to help me? Am I the main character?” A smile spread across his face as the questions spilled out of his mouth. Man, this kid thinks rather highly of himself. Guess it doesn't help that Rochelle is here to help him.

She shook her head and chuckled softly. “No, Draco, you're not the main character. That would be Harry Potter.” Here we go. If he doesn't bring up the thing about the last Gaunt in England, this is where the storytelling and explanation get started.

Draco lost his smile when he was told he wasn't the main character. The moment the name Harry Potter left Rochelle's lips, he had a shocked look back on his face. “Harry Potter? The Harry Potter? The-boy-who-lived? Defeated the Dark Lord when he was only an infant? That Harry Potter?”

Nodding her head, Rochelle continued. “The one and only. Since he's the main character of the book series that is my ability, he's the one I know the most about. That includes how he first meets everyone I know things about, his thoughts and feelings on them, and every situation he will be in for the next seven years.” She let it settle for a few moments, letting Draco process the information.

Once he did, Draco said, “You had mentioned the other night at dinner that you knew a lot about me and were fond of me. What does that mean for my role in...your books? I'm not sure how to refer to your ability and be accurate.” His speech and demeanor were much better than before. This must be interesting to him because he wasn't currently acting like an insufferable prat.

Rochelle took a deep breath and braced herself to break his poor little heart. “Sorry, but your role was actually more of an antagonist. Not the big bad guy, but-” She paused and looked at the poor 10-year-old boy sadly. “I'm really sorry, Draco. You and Harry hated each other and were rivals. I know how much you want to be his friend.”

Draco's face fell for a few moments before his brows furrowed in confusion. “Were? Not will be?” Rochelle wondered if he would catch that. The fact that he did made her smile a bit in pride.

“Right. That's one of the things I'm hoping to change. I firmly believe that if you actually become Harry's friend, your role in the story will change and hopefully won't be so ill-fated.” She was still smiling, even as Draco's face relaxed into mild fear. His face grew pale.

“Ill-fated? What…what exactly happens to me?” He looked even more scared than Rochelle expected of him. It just goes to show she can't let herself forget he's only just a child. He isn't like her, since while she is physically a child, she is mentally an adult.

Looking down briefly at her hands and fidgeting with them, she cautiously chose her words. “We have a lot to cover today, so I'll only give a summary. For most of your schooling years, you and Harry were rivals. You actually go out of your way many times to bully him and his friends. You relish in every bad thing that happens to Harry and only seem to change when things get more serious.” She looks up to see his reaction. To gauge if he can handle what she is about to say.

He looks sad, and maybe a bit miffed, but he doesn't look distraught. Rochelle took a breath to prepare herself for that inevitability. “A war is coming. You and Harry had been on opposing sides. Sixth year is when things got serious.” She paused and looked at her notebook, which held the contract. “I gave your parents a vague prophecy about the fate I want to change for you. It's what made them even consider taking me in and letting me help you. But I'm going to tell you the real thing, not censor it.”

She looked back at him with a fortified expression. “You-Know-Who is coming back, and in the summer after fifth year, he’s going to try and make you a proper Death Eater with the Dark Mark.” She stopped talking when she noticed Draco starting to panic. She shouldn't have told him that. He's just a kid! What was she thinking? Rochelle moved closer to him a bit and softly spoke. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just dropped that on you. Are you ok? Deep breaths.”

He was starting to breathe heavily. Sure, he was raised in a way that he knew his parents followed Voldemort, but he was still taught not to break the law. He knew Death Eaters were criminals, and he knew what happened to them: Azkaban. He must be thinking all sorts of things, like what being a Death Eater means for him.

Rochelle reached out and took his hand warmly. “Draco, look at me.” His eyes met hers. They were filled with so much panic, they almost glazed over. “I'm not going to let that happen.” Her voice was soft, yet strong. Resolute. She meant it. “Remember how I said I'm fond of you based on what I know?” He nodded his head, slowly starting to control his breathing with deep and long breaths. “I'm skipping ahead here, but so many things happened that showed who you truly are. You're not some evil bully Death Eater. You were able to show enough of who you are to Harry that after the war, he defended you in your trials, and you didn't go to Azkaban.” She squeezed his hand warmly.

This seemed to calm him down a bit. It took a few more moments of controlled breathing and Rochelle squeezing his hand, rubbing against the back of it in comfort before Draco calmed down enough to think. Silence reigned in the room for a solid few minutes before Draco spoke. “I'm not saying I believe you. But…can you tell me about Harry? What's he like?” Clearly, he couldn't handle the learning of his future yet, so Rochelle welcomed the subject change.

She thought for a moment and smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. “Harry…he's caring, brave, stubborn, kinda an idiot sometimes.” Draco laughed a bit at that, which made Rochelle laugh too. “He's been through a lot. He wouldn't like it if I told you everything in his private life, so I'll have to wait to tell you at a more appropriate time, or he tells you himself.”

Draco looked a bit concerned at her melancholy statement, but she pushed on. “Is there something specific you wanna know?” She glanced down and realized she was still holding Draco's hand, so she released it and sat back on the couch. “I can tell you what his interests will be. He's going to be a Quidditch nut, that's for sure. Best seeker in the school.” Her face scrunched up a bit. “That is, if I don't mess up and ruin that chance for him.”

Draco relaxed into the chair and tilted his head while looking at Rochelle. “What chance?” he asked simply.

Rochelle smiled wryly at Draco. “That's, uh, it's actually something I'm going to have to ask your help with. See, in my reading, during the first flight lesson of the year, something happens in class, and Madam Hooch has to leave with an injured student. You decided that was the perfect time to mess with Harry and provoked him into chasing after a rememberall that you threw.” She smiled a bit teasingly as she said the last sentence.

Draco understood she was teasing him for something he hadn't done, so he took it as the joke it was and laughed lightly again. He nodded for her to continue, seemingly enjoying the story so far. “He chased it, caught it, and was seen catching it by his head of house. All they saw was his skill in flying and catching something so small. He didn't even get in trouble for going against Madam Hooch's instructions. He gets onto the Quidditch team in the seeker position as a first-year. Youngest in a century to do so.”

Draco smiled wider and softly gasped in awe. “Wow. He's really that good?” Rochelle nodded, but Draco’s face fell slightly. “But wait, didn't you say you needed my help?”

Rochelle nodded again, and with a beat of silence, she realized he wanted her to elaborate. “Even though I'm going to do my best to help the two of you become friends, if it's possible, I want you to still make that scene happen. If it doesn't, he may not be able to be on the Quidditch team till second year, when he can try out normally.”

Draco's eyes went wider slightly. His eyes were widening a lot. Hope his eyes don't dry out. “You want me to still bully him? I don't hate him and I don't want to hate him, so why would I plan on bullying him now?” 

Rochelle shook her head and sighed. “That's the thing: you don't need to bully him. You can tease him good-naturedly, or challenge him. He kinda has a weakness for giving in when asked if he's scared to do something. Like I said, he's a brave idiot.” She leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees and clasping her hands together. “That's something we can figure out later. Right now, I'm just telling you anything you want to know.”

Draco took a breath and sighed, nodding his head as he looked away, beginning to think. After a bit, it was like a light bulb went on in his mind as his head snapped back to Rochelle with a quizzical look. “What was that thing the other day? When you said you shouldn't have mentioned the last Gaunt in England. I want to know about that.”

Rochelle cringed, leaning back stiffly, resting her hands in her lap, and playing with her fingers. She bit her bottom lip and glanced away a bit before she looked back at Draco. “So, uh. Do you want the straightforward, un-elaborated truth? Or do you want the more detailed and annoyingly embarrassing for me, truth?”

A mischievous smirk spread over Draco’s lips. Rochelle shouldn't have given him that option. “The second one, obviously.” Even though he wasn't actually a bully, he still had the tendency to tease and enjoy others’ torment.

Rochelle closed her eyes and let out a breath before opening them again. “His name is Tom Riddle.” She wasn't looking at Draco when she said that, and it was only the silence from Draco that made her look at him. He clearly had no idea who that was, because he just motioned with his hand for her to go on.

She looked away again and continued, speaking rather rushed after the initial pause. “That's…that's You-know-who's real name. Tom Marvolo Riddle. His mom's name is Merope Gaunt, making him the last Gaunt in England. I am very, very , distantly related to The Dark Lord.” She cringed at the statement. She hated that she hadn't thought that part through when choosing her place in the world. She did not want to be related to snake-face McVoldiewart. Although he was supposed to have been attractive before getting obliterated by Lily's sacrifice and snakeified in the revival ritual.

This time, the resulting silence from Draco didn't draw Rochelle's eyes to him. It took a minute before Draco was sputtering noises of disbelief. “There is no way that's true. I can believe You-Know-Who being the last Gaunt in England, but I don't believe you're related to him.” He was chuckling and softly scoffing. He really didn't believe her. Guess it's time to whip out the family tree.

Rochelle didn't even look at Draco once as she grabbed her notebook and opened it at one of the marked places. She set the book flat on the coffee table and pushed it toward Draco before putting her wand on the open page. She muttered a soft “aparecium flagrate. ” This was a combination spell she managed to figure out for this very conversation. Once the spell was cast, lines of thin fire began flying out of the page and into the air. A simply-styled family tree with names and dates for births and deaths.

This spell combined the revealing spell: Aparecium and the spell that allows you to write in the air: Flagrate. All she had to do was write what she wanted on the page, and casting the spell essentially projects what is written into the air.

Making this family tree wasn't easy. Most of it came from whatever entity was putting information into her head when she wanted it. She had previously said that on the first day she arrived, she did a bunch of research into her family. In her background, she wrote that she knew who everyone she was related to was and how they were related. This allowed her to make a scarily accurate family tree from memory alone. More detailed and accurate than ever explained in the books or put together by fans and posted online. Probably because in this world, they were real people with a lineage and not just characters. That scary accurate family tree was now being projected into the air in thin fiery lines all across her bedroom, anywhere it seemed to be able to fit.

Rochelle still refused to look at Draco. She was too embarrassed to be related to Voldemort to see Draco's reaction to anything right now. She stood from her couch and grabbed Draco's arm without looking at him and began walking to where she knew she was in the tree.

She pointed at herself on the tree with her wand and said, “Rochelle N. McCullen.” She then traced her wand over her mother, then her grandfather, then her great-grandfather, then her great-great-grandmother, over and over.

She traced her wand all the way back, and eventually she said, “Rionach Steward. Isolt Sayre.” She paused the name calling. “When I said distantly related, I meant it. In case you didn't know, Isolt Sayre founded Ilvermorny. Her mother was Rionach Gaunt. Rionach’s sister, Gormlaith, basically ran Isolt out of England. This has gone on too long, so I'll just skip to the highlights. Honorable mention: this line-” she motions to one side of the tree above Gormleith and Rionach Gaunt, “-leads to Cadmus Peverell. That actually means I'm related to Harry distantly, too, since he's related to Cadmus’ brother Ignotus. Anyway, this line-” she motions to the other side of the tree, then down.

It keeps going until just before Marvolo Gaunt. She smiles to herself, remembering the video game she played in her old life: Hogwarts Legacy. It was kinda cool to write down how she was related to one of her favorite characters from the game. She pointed to Marvolo Gaunt and said, “We're gonna follow him in a second, but I just wanna mention Marvolo's brother, Ominis. He was blind and was able to navigate his way around using his wand. I always thought that was really cool.” She giggled a bit before pointing back at Marvolo. “Anyway, Marvolo had Merope, who is Tom Riddle's mom.”

Finally, she let herself look at Draco. He was looking at all of this in complete awe. After Rochelle finally stopped talking, Draco let out a breathless huff of a laugh before saying, “Merlin's beard. I knew studying your ancestry was normal for purebloods, but you took it a bit too far.” He had a bewildered smile on his face as his eyes scanned the tree. At this point, Rochelle had already let him go since she had stopped dragging him around the tree.

Draco followed the line back up to Rionach Gaunt and went up the other side of the tree. He runs around the room every which way until he ends up at Cadmus Peverell. He skips over to Ignotus, then traces it all the way to Harry's name. “You weren't kidding. You really are related to Harry.” He looks at ‘Harry James Potter, b. 1980’ practically with stars and hearts in his eyes.

Rochelle just looks at him and smiles. She wonders if she is in the Canon universe or Fanon universe. Either way, Draco is obsessed with Harry already.

Suddenly, Rochelle remembered mentioning that she was related to Draco, and she giggled, earning the boy's gaze. She looks at him and beams as she says, “Remember how I said we are related?”

Draco must have realized he could search this and find out, so he looked around for his name. Rochelle laughed and said, “Looking around like that isn't going to help with all these names. We need to start somewhere. We are already at Harry, so let's start there and trace it back.”

Draco looked at her, confused. “Why are we starting at Harry? Just because both of us may be related to you doesn't mean we are related to each other.”

Rochelle shook her head and said, “No, no, you're not related to Harry. You're related to his godfather. I'm the one who made this tree, so I can make any connections I want. So~” she traced the line that connects Harry to Sirius Black the third. The line is more of a yellow color than the normal fire of everything else. “I decided to make the connection that I know exists from my readings. Sirius Black and Harry's godfather. Sirius and your mom are cousins.” She traced the lines as she spoke and landed on Draco. “See? There you are. Now you follow your family line as you know it, and I'll follow from me.”

Draco nodded his head, and Rochelle ran over to herself. She traced quickly on her father's side of the family down a path she knew as if using her muscle memory. She runs all over the place while Draco is carefully tracing his part of the family on the Black side. Eventually, Rochelle lands on the first Black in her path: Alegra Black. Draco ends up not far away as he finds Alegra's brother, Aries. He looks at Rochelle and smiles.

He's been smiling a lot more since the start of the conversation. He seems more open to her. Not just because she knows things about Harry, or because she's determined to keep him from being a Death Eater. This little Ancestry detour their conversation took seemed to make him more open to seeing her as family.

Rochelle smiled right back at him. “Isn't it cool? I'm related to Harry on my mom's side, and you on my dad's side.” She then grimaced as she remembered why they even opened the family tree to begin with. “And I hate to be the party pooper, but it also means I've proved myself. I'm very, very distantly related to You-Know-Who.”

Draco's face fell with the reminder of the conversation they were having before this tangent. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Alright. I believe you. And I didn't see a death date for Tom Riddle, so he must still be alive. So that gives more credibility to all your other claims of the future.” He walked back over to the sitting area and plopped into the chair he was in before.

Rochelle followed him, and once she was sitting on the couch again, she touched her wand to her open notebook and cast “ finite incantatum, ” which resulted in the entire family tree being sucked back into the book.

Rochelle settled on the couch and waited until Draco wanted to speak. When he finally did, he looked at Rochelle with a curious expression. “So, how does the first book start?”

Chapter Text

The rest of the previous day was spent in Rochelle’s bedroom. To the young girl’s utter shock, telling Draco about the book revealed to her that she wasn’t just remembering the story. It was as if all seven books were ingrained in her very being. She wasn’t just remembering it like she’d read a book before; it was like she lived it. Every word written, every concept discussed, every detail of what is canon to the Harry Potter universe lived in her head. More than just the books. All the fanon material, too. All the websites of information fans have compiled together—all of it.

She discovered this while speaking and explaining the events of the first book to Draco. She needed to filter some things out. Either because she planned to take care of it before it became a problem, like baby Norburta, or because there was no reason for Draco to know the information at this moment in time. She told him how his first meeting with Harry went, but not about Harry’s home life or experience with the Dursleys. That wasn’t hers to share. She told him about there being a troll in the castle on Halloween, but kept out everything about Quirrell being involved. She only implied it was Voldie by saying “the bad guy” and left it at that. Even with avoiding details and dropping plot points, Draco seemed satisfied.

This discussion went through lunch and ended shortly before dinner. After talking about the first book, Draco got to ask whatever questions he had. This led more to them getting to know each other and Draco being less of a little asshole-in-training. Apparently, Draco has a keen interest in potions and went on and on about the things he’s already studied in preparation for first year. Rochelle found this rather interesting, as all her studies have been in charms or spells, so she began a new section in her notebook for all the new things she is learning in their discussion.

Eventually, they were called down to dinner by another one of the house elves, and they walked down together, still happily talking. Lucius and Narcissa were pleasantly surprised that the two were suddenly getting along. Not quite at friends or sibling levels of closeness, but close enough to enjoy each other's company and be civil. When the topic of Draco’s birthday came up, Rochelle asked what she should expect, as she is very unfamiliar with the birthday practices of the UK wixen societal elite. This question devolved the conversation to Narcissa fussing over making sure Rochelle didn’t feel left out or embarrassed. Which was sweet, in a seemingly unintentional backhanded way.

The dinner soon ended, and once Rochelle got back to her room, she suddenly realized she didn’t have a birthday present for Draco. She began pacing her room, racking her brain for any ideas, when she caught sight of her special notebook she had left on her coffee table, and a light bulb went on in her mind. Calling Dobby, she gave him money and asked him to go buy an expensive blank notebook with attached bookmarks and a Slytherin theme.

The elf was reluctant but did as he was told, and about an hour later, Rochelle had the described notebook in front of her. It seemed over the top for her taste, but she figured Draco would like it. She then spent the next few hours trying to adhere a name plate with “Property of Draco Lucius Malfoy” onto the bottom back of the notebook. That should seem like an easy feat, but she didn’t exactly have any of the muggle book binding materials she would need, like glue, or book binding needle and thread, or even anything to emboss or carve the name plate, let alone design the damn thing. So she was left with transfiguration, and came to find out she was tremendously terrible at it.

Color-changing spells are a charm's derivative of transfiguration, so she was able to cast that rather easily. However, whenever she tried to change one thing into something else, or change the shape of something, she just couldn’t seem to get it. She ended up just taking a silver name plate that Dobby helped make, writing what she wanted it to say and how she wanted it to look onto parchment, transferring the ink written on the page into fire in the air, and essentially searing the writing into the silver with a strange modified version of the spell she had used to showcase her family tree earlier that day. Once she finished and smiled down at her gift, she laid it on her desk and went to bed. It was getting late, and she knew Narcissa would probably wake her up early to keep fussing about getting Rochelle ready for the fancy party.

The next morning was just about what Rochelle expected. Getting woken up early (for someone who’s not a morning person) at 8 o’clock, and promptly getting thrown into lessons on how she needed to conduct herself at this party like a proper noble lady. After lunch, Narcissa threw herself into finding the young girl something appropriate to wear. She ended up giving up one of her old dresses, shrinking and altering it to fit Rochelle better. She was set in a long, icy blue and black silk dress with delicate black beaded flower details. The dress neckline went straight across her chest and had thin straps. The final ensemble was accessorized with a sheer black shawl and a delicate black necklace. The whole thing reminded Rochelle of a prom dress. [A/N: see picture at the end of the chapter]

After finally being released from Narcissa’s clutches, Rochelle retreats to her room and sits at her desk. She thought that maybe Draco would like having his own never-ending notebook, so she got to work charming it. She finally perfected her own original spell and knew she would have to make very good use of it. She would also likely have to come up with a name for it. What’s the protocol for creating spells anyway? Well, that doesn’t matter now, as once the gift was charmed to never end, she handed it off to Dobby with the request that he wrap it in a way that was expected of a gift to Draco.

With the gift taken care of, Rochelle spent the rest of her time before dinner and the party planning everything she could. She had ideas of what she wanted to happen this year, what she needed to happen, and what would be nice goals to have, but it wouldn't be the end of the world if they didn’t happen. She needed to eventually find a way to protect her notebook, and she already had a new type of ward in mind. She even did the research into the runes needed for what she wanted, but the caveat is that she needs to learn Occlumency for this to work. So she started thinking of a plan to get Snape to teach it to her, despite her being 11. This was going to take a lot of blackmail. Possibly everything she has on the man, because there was no way he would agree without being forced to do it.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t complete her plan as she was called down to dinner. So she put on her fancy new black flats and fixed up her outfit, checking in the mirror to make sure she looked like a rich pureblood. Her hair flowed down her back in its normal brown and red color. She scrunches her face as she observes herself and decides to give her hair a bit more of a wavy texture instead of its normal pin-straightness. Once done, she smiles and nods in satisfaction.

Honestly, if she didn’t have on an insanely expensive and fancy dress, she almost looked cute. Maybe a bit pretty and mature, despite being a child. She looked nice and expensive. She only hoped she didn't embarrass Draco and Narcissa. She is still on the fence with Lucius, but Narcissa seemed to genuinely want her there. Before she left, she grabbed her wand and notebook and shrunk it down to fit in the dress pocket along with a pencil. She then found a convenient wand pocket in the dress and slid her wand into it. Better to be prepared for anything.

Having sat down at the dining table, Rochelle takes care to place a cloth napkin across her lap to protect her pretty dress. She then looked at Narcissa and asked, “So, what can I expect everyone else to be doing? We talked at length about how I need to act, but I don’t know what all of you will be doing for the night.” She observed the way Narcissa was eating and tried to imitate her.

The family ate in silence before one of them was able to answer her after swallowing their bite of food. Lucius says, “Narcissa and I will be greeting guests as they enter the estate. Draco will be escorting a young lady from another pure blood family and is expected to mingle with every guest in the ballroom.” He then took another bite of whatever meat it is they’re eating. She hadn’t cared to ask.

So, when Rochelle was told she could essentially do whatever she wanted as long as she conducted herself like a lady, it was because she would primarily be alone the whole night, or most of the night. She wondered silently if she should stand off to the side of the room or just shadow Narcissa.

After dinner, Rochelle decides it may be better to do the latter. So, she follows Narcissa and Lucius to the front door to greet their guests as they enter. Draco is off somewhere else, probably finishing his preparations for the party. Despite just standing next to Narcissa, politely smiling as the adults greet the guests, Rochelle is still getting strange looks. Yes, she is an unknown little girl next to Lord and Lady Malfoy, but come on! If she were a normal little girl, Rochelle would be crying from the types of dirty glares she was getting. Like she was a stain on the earth, regardless of whether she appeared as anything less than a pureblood witch child.

A few of the families who entered the house had children of their own with them who seemed to be doing the same as Rochelle, smiling and remaining silent as they followed their parents. Most of the children she didn't have the time to try and recall who they were or recognize them, but three of them she had met before: Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott.

Crabbe and Goyle didn't seem to pay her any mind, but Nott looked at her like she had insulted him with her very presence. He smiled happily at the Malfoys, but the moment he was walking past Rochelle, he looked her up and down and took on a face that looked like it should have been a sneer, but didn't quite reach his eyes. If Rochelle is forced to talk to him later, she’s going to have to address his dirty looks. They’re more of a nuisance than anything, especially if he is Draco’s friend.

Once the guests seemed to stop entering the manor, Rochelle followed Lucius and Narcissa to the main ballroom. With a flourish of an opening door, Lucius thanked the guests for their attendance. He led the other two in the trio off to the side and let the doors close. Once things seemed to be set up, Lucius announced Draco’s entrance, and the doors swung open again. Draco walked in wearing silver dress robes that were very close to resembling a suit under the top robe. On his arm, he had a girl with a short black bob in a half-up, half-down style pulled back by a flower clip. She is in a pretty light pink dress that was very flowy with flower accents. She was very cute and practically beaming next to Draco.

Rochelle kept staring at the girl as Draco entered the room with her. Not with any sort of malice, but because she didn't recognize her. She was trying to place her and figure out her name. This one was a bit hard, and she didn’t even get to figure it out because Narcissa leaned down and whispered to Rochelle, “That is Pansy Parkinson. She and Draco have been each other's escorts to their birthdays since they were toddlers.” Narcissa smiled down at the young girl at her side and seemed to be trying to gauge her reaction.

Rochelle’s eyebrows raised as she nodded slowly. She noticed her smile wavered as she was studying Pansy Parkinson, so she quickly plastered a smile back on her face and thanked Narcissa for informing her. Pansy seemed like a nice enough girl right now. She appeared happy next to Draco. And if their friendship in the future is to say anything about Draco’s comfort level with the girl, she can’t possibly be as bad as the books said. Rochelle decided to talk to her later if given the chance. Getting along with those that Draco calls friends is essential if she wants Draco to trust her. As of right now, he trusts her to tell the truth, but that’s not good enough if she is going to make sure he doesn’t mess up his future.

Draco and Pansy started making their rounds about the room, mingling and putting on a proper pureblood show. Narcissa and Lucius started walking around as well, and again, Narcissa paid more attention to Rochelle than Lucius as she smiled down at the girl. “Do you truly want to follow us around? Perhaps you could introduce yourself to the other children. We can find you if needed. Go have fun, dear. Enjoy the party.” Her voice was gentle and kind. Very out of character for her, ordinarily. However, Rochelle has gotten more used to it during her time here, so she simply smiled warmly at Narcissa while those around them looked at the woman with confusion.

Rochelle can take a hint. She was being politely told to f-off. ”I think I’ll take my leave then. I wouldn’t want to impose. I will most likely be toward the edges of the room if you need me.” She curtsied to the adults around her. “If you’ll excuse me.” She smiled at them before she turned to leave. As she walked away, she could hear the adults talking about who she was, and inwardly beamed at hearing Narcissa refer to her as “a wonderfully bright young witch” while Lucius simply called her their new ward.

She made her way to the edge of the room, which had a surprisingly good view of the rest of the guests. She was about to lean on the wall to start her people-watching when she luckily caught herself. Leaning against the wall wasn’t proper, and she thinks she remembers hearing somewhere that leaning on things is an American habit that other countries consider rude. Spies need to unlearn the habit of leaning to blend in better when abroad, or something like that. She huffed a sigh, thinking about how her feet were gonna kill her later by standing upright without leaning on the wall.

Resigned to the future pain, her eyes sweep across the room, looking for anyone she can identify. Practically every face she sees is unknown, even with searching her mental database of the physical descriptions of all the characters. This was the high society of the wizarding world, most of whom are probably Death Eaters. There would be no reason for Harry to have met most of these people, so their physical descriptions never came up in the books. It didn't take long for Rochelle to give up trying to identify the guests and decide to practice a bit of her metamorph ability.

She looks at her hands and starts playing around with the size, shape, and color of her nails. She smiles brightly at the sudden realization she doesn’t need nail polish anymore. For some reason, nail polish always peeled off within a day or two of applying it, so she tended to have naked nails in her old life. Now, with this ability, she can have perfectly “painted” nails just by thinking what she wants. She spends most of the party thus far just smiling as she plays around with a nail design to match her dress. She decided on a halo (hay-low) nail design with the same icy blue as her dress at the center and black on the outside. Thin and delicate flower details to mimic the beaded ones on her dress. She even makes the length about a centimeter longer than her natural nail to make it look like she got acrylic extensions. Safe to say she’s having the time of her life on her lonesome at this party.

Eventually, her loner bliss is interrupted by Draco walking over without Pansy. Should she call her Pansy or Parkinson? Probably Parkinson, since the two have never spoken before, let alone been on a first-name basis. Draco smiles kindly at Rochelle, but it isn’t the comfortable one the young girl was now used to, having seen it nearly all of yesterday and today. This smile was his social mask. Rochelle didn’t like it, but she returned his smile with a genuine one of her own. Draco starts by saying, “How are you enjoying the party? I haven’t seen you chatting to the guests.”

Rochelle chuckled a bit as she said, “That’s because I have nothing to say. With the dirty glances I was getting while greeting them with your parents, I doubted anyone would appreciate me starting a conversation with them. So, I’ve left it to others to approach me if they want to chat. Staying quiet also limits the possibility of making a fool of myself.” She then beamed as she held out her hands to the boy and practically bounced in place. “Look what I did, though! I used my metamorph ability to make my nails match my dress! Aren’t they pretty?”

Draco looked at her nails, and his smile almost instantly became more genuine. “That’s fantastic! Rather impressive actually.” He kept looking at her nails and even gently took her fingers to inspect them more closely while smiling. “It looks like you’ve painted them with a tiny brush. You mentioned you are an artist. Would you be able to replicate this with paint? Or is this strictly a result of your birth-given ability?” His eyes met hers again as he let go of her fingers.

Rochelle dropped her hands and nodded her head. “Yes, I can. In fact, I was inspired by nail art using nail polish that muggles do. I believe in the UK, it’s either nail lacquer or varnish? I’ll have to look into buying some when I go to London.” She paused and let her gaze drift to the rest of the room. “Seems like you’re finally letting yourself relax, right? I saw you talking to every single guest with Parkinson. So now you get to relax by allowing me to bask in the presence of the birthday boy.” She giggled a bit when her eyes went back over to the boy, and she saw his playful smirk.

Draco scoffed softly and crossed his arms gently over his abdomen, raising an eyebrow at her. “It is quite easy to have a brief respite when the last person to speak to is a loner standing at the edge of the room.” Before Rochelle can tease him back, maybe retorting that she isn’t a loner, Draco adds, “Mother and Father asked me to find you. There is someone you need to meet.” He dropped his arms and slightly turned to lead the way.

Rochelle’s smile wavered in her confusion. Who could they possibly want her to meet? Sure, there are lots of important people at this party, but the day is about Draco, not her. Regardless, she fixed her smile and followed Draco over to where Narcissa and Lucius were standing. Once she arrived, they exchanged kind looks before the adults led the children over to the other edge of the room. They walked up to a tall man in sleek black robes and chin-length straight black hair. He turned toward them as they approached, and Rochelle could clearly see his deep obsidian eyes. She knew instantly who this was once she took in his hooked nose and condescending expression.

Narcissa opened her mouth to introduce them, but before she could utter a syllable, it was as if Rochelle couldn’t hold herself back. She practically blurted out, “Professor Snape! It’s so nice to meet you!” She doesn’t bother to offer a hand to shake. Mainly because it isn’t proper in this setting, but also because Snape doesn’t shake. So instead, she offered a polite curtsy to the man and a warm smile.

Snape raised an eyebrow at that, and the other two adults looked stricken by the fact she knew his name already and even referred to him as ‘Professor’, which indicates she knew he would be teaching her. Snape then drawled, “You must be Miss McCullen,” his gaze drifting to the Malfoys, “the new Malfoy ward I’ve heard so much about.” He looked back at Rochelle. His eyes seemed to sharpen with distrust as he studied her.

Narcissa nodded before she said, “Yes, this is Rochelle. Rochelle, this is Severus Snape. He will be your potions professor at Hogwarts and is also Draco’s godfather.” She said this as if it were obvious that Rochelle knew this already, given how the girl had greeted the man. But Rochelle’s smile just vanished and was replaced with a look of surprise. Draco’s WHAT!?

“You- godfather?- I thought- but that means- oh sweet Merlin that-” She took a deep breath before smiling at Snape. “I see. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Snape.” Her demeanor was now more subdued and almost imperceptible as fake joy. That is, for people who knew her on a more intimate level, it was clear something was going on in her mind that dimmed her shine. Mainly, Draco noticed. The adult Malfoys seemed not to notice, but Snape is too good at reading anyone who isn’t Harry, so he unfortunately noticed as well.

Snape's gaze sharpened even more as his brows furrowed ever so slightly. “Yes, a pleasure indeed.” His tone was as uninterested as to be expected of the man. He kept eyeing Rochelle and studying her, and now, Rochelle wasn’t studying him in return as she had been before. Now her mind was swirling with all the new possibilities of information this news introduced. Draco’s godfather? That’s definitely not canon, which only means one thing.

Rochelle looked at the adults and took the extended silence as an opportunity. “If I may excuse myself, I need some air.” Narcissa nodded silently while Lucius just looked confused at why she would say hello just to immediately leave, and he didn't look happy about it. She smiled and curtsied yet again and quickly walked to the nearest door to a balcony, closing the door behind her.

Something that isn’t canon was just told to her that it's true. Which means she has to be in a fanon version of this universe. Fanon is so vast that literally anything can happen. She can't prepare for ‘anything’, only what she knows from the books! How is she going to handle something she can’t prepare for!? She placed her hands on the banister of the balcony to brace herself as she took deep and steadying breaths. This explains why Narcissa is so different from her canon counterpart, being so warm and nice. That’s always how she was depicted in the fan fiction she had read.

After a few more deep breaths, she took her wand and notebook out of their respective pockets and enlarged the book. She grabbed the pencil from her pocket and started a new section in her notebook, and color-coded the bookmark with Colovaria before starting to make a checklist of every trope she could think of in canon-based fan fiction she has read. She was going to have to steadily add things as she remembered them and check which ones were true in this universe. The first thing she wrote was “Snape is Draco’s godfather,” and checked the box next to it.

Amid her frantic writing, Draco opened the door and joined her on the balcony. He saw her frantically writing and tentatively closed the door behind him and slowly walked closer. “What the bloody hell was that? Why did you react that way to my godfather?” His voice was cautious, yet still had his normal prattish intonation to it. He was confused by her actions, but also cautious, as he knew what that look of hers meant by now, with her notebook out. Something serious happened, but he doesn’t know what.

Rochelle looked up from her book at Draco. Her eyes flitted to the closed door quickly before she looked back at Draco and pulled out her wand again. She cast a quick Muffliato around them to block out noise from getting through the door. She put her wand away and took a breath while locking eyes with Draco. “There are some things I simply can’t explain without sounding more like a lunatic than I already do.” She looked down at her notebook again and continued adding to the checklist as things popped into her head.

Draco crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one foot, a small, amused smile creeping onto his face. “Ah, so you’re aware you come across as loony. Small blessings.” Rochelle didn't react, which caused his smile to falter. This must be too serious for teasing right now.

After a beat and more writing, Rochelle looked back at Draco. “Yes, yes. Self-awareness is important. Now, as for why I reacted that way to Professor Snape, it's complicated. Remember how I said I know things about people because of the books?” Draco nodded slowly. “Severus Snape is one such person. Actually, I know more about him than I do about you and your parents. I didn’t, however, know he was your godfather. That wasn’t in the books. That opens up a whole slew of information I had but wasn’t written as solid facts. Now there are a bunch of unknown variables that I need to find out if they’re true or not.” She looked down at her list and took a few deep breaths. She could feel herself starting to freak out more. She needs to calm down.

Draco stood there, stunned. He could only seem to muster a soft, “Oh, sweet Salazar,” and rub his forehead. “So that stuttering mess was you having a revelation that this new information could be true? You looked like a babbling idiot. You nearly embarrassed me.” He started to pace a bit in front of Rochelle to try and gather himself while Rochelle tried to do the same, rereading her list and controlling her breathing. It was then that she read one on the list that caused her to smirk a bit. Her anxiety melted back to her normal mischievous nature. She looked at Draco with a smirk, watching him pace in front of her. He noticed and stopped pacing, furrowing his brows as he dropped his hands and met her gaze. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Rochelle let herself relax more by leaning her back against the balcony banister, despite leaning not being proper. Still holding her book and crossing her legs, she put all her weight on one foot. “Let me confirm one bit of this new information now. At this point, I’m nearly positive it's true. Maybe that’s just my hope, but it may not be true, so I need to check.” Draco looked even more confused and lifted a hand to point to himself in a gesture that implied the question of the information being about him. Rochelle nodded and then bluntly said with a devious and teasing glint in her eye, “Do you like boys?” Draco almost instantly sputtered nonsensical noises, so she continued. “I know we are a bit young for you to know what you’re interested in, but ya never know when someone has their gay awakening.”

Now blushing, Draco seemed to find words to say through his stuttering. “Me? Fancy blokes? T-there’s no way I could fancy blokes!” He blushed harder, seeming to think harder on the matter. This caused Rochelle's smirk to spread into a triumphant smile.

She giggled happily, nearly hysterically. “You do! You so do ‘fancy blokes’! Your face is so red!” She giggled more as she looked back at her notebook and dramatically checked off the box next to ‘Draco Malfoy is gay’ and looked back at the blushing boy before her. “Draco, it’s ok. It’s perfectly normal to be gay. I’ll always be here to support you. I’ll be your biggest cheerleader when you get an even bigger crush on Harry than you already do.”

Draco’s mouth dropped open in shock at the sheer audacity of her last statement. ”When I what!? I do NOT have a crush on Ha- Potter!” He huffed and looked like he was about to keep refuting her claim, but she interrupted him by laughing. She was laughing so hard she had to close her book and clutch her stomach. “S-stop laughing!” He cried, stomping his foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Her laughter subsided to the point she could speak, but she did wipe a tear from one of her eyes. “Sorry! Sorry. It’s just, you called him Harry yesterday, but the moment I accuse you of something that is so obviously true, you go calling him Potter, like you did in the books.” He looked ready to retort against her statement, but she trudged on. “Don’t go trying to deny it. You’re very clearly obsessed with him. That much I knew before any indication of your sexuality. That much was written in the books. Not in so many words, but everyone knew.” She gave him a pointed look. She knew he knew this based on their discussion yesterday, so there was no way he could deny it. She also didn’t specify that the ‘everyone’ she meant was all the people who have read the series, not the characters in the books.

Eventually, she shrank her notebook and placed all her things into their respective pockets. She looked at Draco with an amused smile. “You need to collect yourself before returning to your party. I need to go talk to Professor Snape now that I’ve collected myself. Feel free to stay behind the Muffliato. I’ll keep it going till I see you in the ballroom again.” She patted his shoulder as she walked past him and back into the party, closing the door behind her with a satisfied smile on her face.

Rochelle walked along the edge of the room, scanning the many bodies moving about the ballroom as music played. She knew Snape wouldn’t dance, so she focused on those along the edge of the room. It wasn’t that hard, as she only needed to look for a man in all black who was silently judging those around him. Probably not conversing with anyone if he can avoid it.

Soon, she located her target and walked up to him with a bright smile only a child can manage. The brooding professor simply looked at her as his acknowledgment of her existence. However, Rochelle was undeterred. “Professor Snape. My apologies for my behavior earlier. I did not expect Hogwarts’ esteemed Potions Master to be my new brother’s godfather.” She tried her best not to lie without giving too much information that is inappropriate to share, especially at a social gathering.

Snape maintained his deadpan expression. “I highly doubt a week with the Malfoys constitutes permission to refer to Draco as your brother.” He said in a drawling and bored voice. As expected, he did not want to be in a conversation with her.

Rochelle kept smiling unwaveringly and nodded her head a bit. “Of course. However, according to the contract binding me as the Malfoy ward, in practice, I’m the Lord and Lady’s daughter, and by extension, Draco’s sister. A lack of proper relationship connection aside, I didn't misspeak.” That seemed to catch Snape's attention as he raised his eyebrows slightly, almost imperceptibly. He tilted his head down a bit more so he was now properly looking at the child who had approached him. Continuing, Rochelle states her business for approaching him. “Professor, would you be willing to speak with me after the festivities? There is a matter of great importance I wish to discuss.”

Snape's expression drifted into a sneer at the thought of talking with the child in a situation where he isn’t forced to be cordial. A few moments of silence danced between them before he slowly nodded.

Rochelle smiled even brighter and happily clasped her hands together. “Perfect! I’ll have my elf fetch you after the party is over. He will lead the way for you.” Suddenly, Draco was next to her and whispered in her ear that all the children were going to a different room. She nodded and looked back at Snape and did yet another of what must be her tenth curtsy today. “If you’ll excuse me once again, Professor. Enjoy the child-free portion of the night.” With another silent nod from the man, Rochelle let Draco lead her away.

~Rochelle’s Dress~ 

Chapter Text

Draco led Rochelle over to the other children, but shortly before the two joined the others, he stopped and whispered to her. “It is probably best for you not to cling so close to me, or even act comfortable around me. Keep up that act you're doing. Surprisingly, you seem to be good at acting higher than your standing.” Rochelle scoffed in disbelief. Really? A dig at her while praising her? Wait, no, that tracks for him. After a beat, she nodded her head, and the two continued joining the other children.

Everyone walked out of the ballroom and down a small hallway nearby. They all file in with a practiced air and confident strides. This must be something that happened at every birthday party. It makes sense, though. The party seemed designed with the adults in mind, not the children. So the children going off to a separate room toward the end of the night isn't that surprising. The room was a decently sized sitting room with a small table of refreshments off to one side. There were the normal couches and chairs, but also some extra chairs in various areas of the room, as if whoever prepared the room expected the children not to sit together.

Rochelle decided to make her way to one of the sets of chairs lining the room and took a seat in the one closest to the wall. She wasn’t sure what she could do to pass the time, so she went back to people-watching and trying to identify the children. There aren’t many, but they are of varying ages. Mainly, one older, one younger. The rest seem to be about the same age as Rochelle and Draco.

Said boy sat on a couch near the center of the room and was quickly surrounded by most of the boys. Namely, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott, but also two more boys, one of whom is significantly older. Three additional boys went off on their own into a separate group. There were a total of eight girls in the room, excluding Rochelle. Immediately, she could see Parkinson in one of the two groups that the girls made. There were three girls with her, one of them noticeably younger than the others. The other group of girls had four individuals, two of whom appeared to be identical twins. These seemed to be pre-formed cliques. Rochelle was glad she preemptively separated herself from the others, thankful she didn't create an awkward situation.

Studying the groups more, she focused on the identical twins. Time to try and guess everyone's names. It’s fun to see people's reactions when she already knows who they are. So, who are the identical twin girls who are Rochelle’s age? The Patil twins, so they were easy to identify. Rochelle was surprised to find possibly light-aligned children at a dark-aligned party, which widened Rochelle’s pool of possible people in the room. It also made it a bit harder.

She couldn’t get further in figuring out who everyone was as she saw Parkinson and her group of girls walk up to her, Parkinson at the lead. She put her hands on her hips and smirked down at Rochelle, lifting her nose haughtily. “And just who might you be? I’ve never seen you here before. What’s with that ridiculous hair?” The other girls smiled and snickered. 

Standing from her seat, Rochelle doesn’t bother smiling due to the insult to her hair; she simply politely curtsied and introduced herself. “Nice to meet you, Pansy Parkinson. I’m the Malfoy family's new ward, Rochelle McCullen. I live here.” She looks at Parkinson kindly, but not with any semblance of a genuine smile. She knew Parkinson meant she had never seen Rochelle at a high society party, but the intentional miscommunication was just a bit of humor to make this interaction a bit more enjoyable.

Parkinson scoffed and crossed her arms. “The Malfoy’s ward? Like I’d believe that. Based on your accent, you’re clearly American. And you didn't explain your atrocious hair!” She practically yelled this, gaining the attention of the entire room.

Draco, of course, heard this, and his eyes snapped to the girls. He maintained his mask, but when their eyes met, Rochelle could see him pleading for her to behave. She returned his look with one of her own, conveying that she will behave if Parkinson does. Draco looked away in resignation.

Rochelle took a subtle but deep breath and looked back at Parkinson. She didn’t say anything right away, just changed her hair to solid brown, facial expression unchanged, “This better?” If the room was quiet before, it now transitioned into silence. Parkinson’s face fell. Rochelle’s eyes hardened, and now she dons a smile. “Too bad. It’s my hair and I’ll make it whatever color I want, thank you.” She changed it back. She allowed herself to be a bit smug.

The room remained silent for a few moments, so she continued, “Yes, I am American. Special circumstances led me to attend Hogwarts instead of Ilvermorny, so I’ll be starting in the fall with most everyone else in this room.”

She looked at the older boy and studied him for a moment, taking in his black hair and dark eyes. The only pureblood family with an older boy that could come to this party is probably the Flints of the Sacred 28, so that must be Marcus. She continued, “except Marcus Flint over there, who is in his, what, 5th year?”

She looked at the younger girl in the group in front of her and assumed the one the younger girl was holding onto must be her sister. They both have bright blue eyes. The older sister has blonde hair, while the younger has brown hair. The first sisters who fit the age difference with vaguely those characteristics are the Greengrass sisters, so she continued. “And of course Astoria Greengrass, who isn’t starting for another two years.” She looked back at Parkinson with a knowing smile.

Everyone in the room was even more stunned. It’s so quiet you could hear a bowtruckle sneeze. Nott spoke first, saying, “Merlin, it's creepy when she does that.” Which caused everyone to look at him in a flurry of swaying hair and swiveling heads.

Rochelle smiled a bit more genuinely and gave a little bow, saying, “Why, thank you, Nott. Always aim to please.” She giggled softly. She caught sight of Draco covering his face with a silent groan, but she could see the slight smile he was hiding. This caused her to bite her bottom lip to stifle an even bigger smile from forming.

Parkinson scoffed and said, “Theo, you say that as if you know her.” Her voice held a bratty whine, but her shocked expression didn’t change. She continued staring at Nott with such a hard gaze, it was surprising the boy didn't turn to stone, or ice, or something of that sort.

Surprisingly, it was Crabbe who piped in, “That’s cause we do. Theo, Greg, and me were over here when she showed up. Mrs. Malfoy even introduced her as Draco’s new sister. Bloody weird, she is.” His nose scrunched in a snarl at Rochelle.

She just smiled even brighter. “Thank you, Crabbe. Wow, creepy and weird. You truly do know how to compliment a girl.” She couldn’t help but laugh a bit more. She knew this wasn’t the best first impression on all these pureblood families and her future classmates, but the smile and laugh she could see Draco trying to hide might be worth it.

Parkinson’s head whipped back to Rochelle, “Sister!?” She screeched, sputtering in disbelief.

Rochelle’s smile lessened a bit. “Well, effectively, yes. Semantics, fine print, and all that.” She waved her hand and shook her head, brushing off the statement. Hoping this child doesn’t ask more questions. “I’m actually an extremely distant cousin.” Her hand and head stilled, her eyes going wide.

That was the wrong thing to say, and she knew it the moment it came out of her mouth. Nott immediately sat up straighter and said, “I’m quite glad you mentioned where you come from. I’d like to bring that thing you mentioned about the last-“ he was cut off by Draco covering his mouth, to the surprise of everyone in the room, including Rochelle. It seemed he had decided on whether or not to tell his friends that bit.

He doesn’t say anything, as his actions seemed to have shocked him, too. Goyle slowly says, “Oh yeah. Wasn’t there something about you being told and deciding if we get to know?” He looked at Draco in a mix of confusion and expectation.

Nott took Draco’s hand off his mouth and continued, “Greg's right. I remember something like that.” He eyed Draco and Rochelle suspiciously. “So, Draco,” he looked right at the boy. “We get to know, right? Who was the last-“ 

His mouth was covered again by Draco at the same time as he said, “No. You don’t get to know. Nobody does unless Rochelle decides they should know.” This was very out of character for Draco. The tension could be cut with a knife, as thick and almost visible it was in the room. It would seem that acting as if they barely knew each other was no longer the plan.

After a bit more silence and Nott throwing Draco’s hand off his mouth again, Rochelle clapped her hands together and regained everyone’s attention. Which isn’t something she likes, but she would rather take negative attention away from Draco than let him ruin his reputation. “Alrighty then! Let’s get back to our regularly scheduled bullying, shall we? Parkinson? Weren’t you trying to demean me by insulting my appearance? Or maybe you wanna take a crack at insulting my homeland?” She smiled with faux warmth at the girl before her. Now, dropping the more sophisticated language she was using in favor of sass.

Parkinson sputtered and blushed at being so blatantly called out. Rochelle could see Draco hiding his smile again. She guesses he finds her sassiness amusing, which is honestly great, because Rochelle finds it thoroughly hilarious. Parkinson huffed and walked away from Rochelle and practically threw herself down into a chair, crossing her arms and pouting. The other girls in that group followed her. Rochelle rolled her eyes. That’s a completely undignified way to conduct yourself, especially as a young lady of a family that’s part of the Sacred 28.

Mentally, Rochelle thanked the fact that nobody brought up her hair again. She took a breath and smiled at the rest of the room, whose eyes were still on her. “Right, so now that everything is awkward, I’m gonna go back to sitting alone and minding my own business as I have been doing all night. Whoever wants to talk to me is free to, but be nice. Conduct yourselves like the pureblood you are, yeah?” She took her seat and crossed her legs, sitting upright and poised like a proper lady, or at least what she thinks one would sit like. “Honestly. Getting lectured by someone your own age isn’t a good look.” She muttered under her breath, but the room was still so silent that everyone heard her.

After a few more moments of silence, Rochelle rolled her eyes and almost reached for her notebook, but restrained herself so as not to draw more attention by unshrinking it. Now she wished she had never reshrunk it. Instead, she looked down at her nails and admired her handiwork with them earlier. Slowly, the room went back to talking, so she allowed herself to glance up and resume identifying people.

She focused on the group with Parkinson. The last girl in that group was tall, heavier set, with black hair. That must be Millicent Bulstrode, based on how she looks and the way she seemed most comfortable with the other three girls, who will all be Slytherins.

Her gaze went over to Draco and his group to identify the last boy. However, the boy was no longer sitting with Draco, Crabbe, Nott, Goyle, and Flint. He was walking toward Rochelle with an easy smile. The boy had a handsome face with slanted eyes and dark skin. The only one fitting that description, wealthy enough to attend Draco’s birthday, is Blaise Zabini, even though he is a half-blood. He walked to Rochelle with an easy-going aura and a welcoming smile as he spoke. “Hello, Rochelle. I’m guessing based on Theo’s comment earlier that you already know all our names?”

Rochelle smiled kindly and tilted her head a bit. “Honestly, still working on it. But I know your name, Blaise Zabini. I also figured out Daphne when I got Astoria, and Millicent Bulstrode just a few seconds before you started heading over here. I got the Patil twins first, though. Pretty easy when they’re the only twin girls in our year.” She studied his face as she spoke. Based on fanon depictions of Blaise, she had a feeling they would get along. However, it could still go either way.

The more she listed whose name she knew, the brighter Blaise’s smile seemed to get. When she finished, he laughed softly as he said, “Oh wow. So not everyone then?” He raised an eyebrow teasingly. Oh yes, they’re gonna get along great.

Rochelle’s smile widened a bit as she also laughed. She gestured to the chair next to her. “Why don’t you have a seat? I'll update you on who I figure out.” And that’s what he did, taking the empty chair to her right happily. She glanced across the rest of the children and caught sight of the second group of boys. She leaned slightly toward Zabini while her eyes still scanned them as she said, “Maybe you could help a bit. I have a feeling of what pool of people I’m working with, but perhaps you can confirm.” She looked at Zabini and leaned back in place. “Is it just Dark and Grey families here? Or are there Light families in attendance as well?”

Zabini raised his eyebrows and chuckled softly in a lighthearted huff. “Light families are here, too. It’s always everyone in high society at all children’s birthdays. Children are a celebrated treasure to the wixen world, so children’s birthdays are one of the few occasions we put aside our magic alignment and socialize. I’m surprised you didn’t know that. I had assumed you were pureblood, based on that lecture you gave, saying we should ‘conduct ourselves like the purebloods we are.” 

Rochelle chuckled at the reminder of the lecture from minutes ago. “Right, despite the fact you’re half-blood. Had I realized who you were at that point, I would have phrased that differently.” She tilted her head back, looking up and away. “You are right, though. I am a pureblood. But I’m also an orphan raised in a wixen orphanage in America. Very different from wizarding Britain.” Her eyes landed back on the second group of boys. Now knowing she is working with purebloods from all magic alignments.

Zabini hummed in realization at her explanation. “Perhaps that’s why you’re so peculiar. Your hair and the way you conduct yourself. Speaking of, may I inquire as to an explanation of your hair? If that isn’t presumptuous of me to ask.” While Rochelle was still studying the second group of boys, she could feel Zabini’s eyes on her.

Her eyes, however, focused on a short, heavier boy with dirty blonde hair and a round face. Something in her was saying she knew who this was, something in his eyes she recognized visually. Then he smiled, and she caught sight of his buck teeth. Neville Longbottom. It took her a few moments to come to terms with the version of Neville she was seeing. In the books, he has blonde hair, but in the movies, it's brown. It’s like whoever made this universe slapped blonde hair onto Matthew Lewis.

Rochelle smiled and pointed over to Neville and said to Zabini, “Neville Longbottom.” Then looked back at him and dropped her hand to see his reaction. His eyes widened slightly, and he nodded. She then continued to answer his question. “That’s not presumptuous of you at all, Zabini. I’m the one who pulled this-“ she changed her hair to solid brown again before going back to its normal brown and red, “-little stunt. If I didn't want questions, I shouldn’t have done it. The answer is simple: I’m a metamorphmagus.” She held up her hands and shook them, making jazz hands. “Ta-da!~” she giggled softly and put her hands back down.

Shortly after she started talking, Zabini looked like he was going to say something, but was silenced by the sudden change in her hair and admission of her nature. His mouth fell open, but a smile remained on his face. “Merlin’s beard! A real metamorphmagus? I’ve never met one before.” He paused for a moment, his eyes looking over at Neville Longbottom. “How exactly are you able to so accurately guess who everyone is? Unlike Theo, I think it's rather cool. Brilliant even.”

Rochelle laughed softly and shrugged, tilting her head a bit and lifting her hands, making it extra dramatic. “I’m special like that. Same reason I’m going to Hogwarts instead of Ilvermorny. The Headmaster promised he’d announce it or something like that, I think. It might even be in the paper, which I think would make more sense.” She smirked a bit and dropped the shrug.

Zabini shook his head as he listened to Rochelle curb the question. “I guess I’ll find out later?” Rochelle nodded, a proud smile plastered on her face. “Right. Keep your secrets then.” Rochelle’s eyes then went back to the small group of boys, studying them. Of the last two, one of them was blonde, skinny, and had an upturned nose. The other was a taller boy, also blonde, and a bit chubby. Why were there so many blondes? As Rochelle was actively searching her brain, trying to place the two boys left in the room, Zabini continued speaking. “Call me Blaise. If you’re Draco’s new sister, I would like to be on friendly terms. Consider me a new friend.”

This caused Rochelle to whip her head back toward the boy, her smile faltering a bit in shock. “Really? You want to be friends? I understand wanting to be cordial for Draco’s sake, but you want me to call you by your given name? Truly?” This wasn’t what she was expecting. Of all people to offer her friendship first in this universe, it's Blaise Zabini.

Zabini- no, Blaise, just laughed and nodded his head. “You’re funny, and you’ve got a backbone. I admire that. You seem like the right type of friend to have, despite all your oddities.” He smiled happily at her.

Slowly, the smile returned to Rochelle’s face tenfold. “Alright. Blaise, it is then. Feel free to call me Rochelle. Maybe if I deem you worthy, I'll let you call me by my nickname.” She lightly teased him in the spirit of newfound friendship.

Blaise chuckled as he stood up and dramatically bowed. “I shall endeavor to live up to your expectations, Lady Rochelle.” This caused her to laugh even more, waving her hand at Blaise.

“Stop! I’m not a Lady!” She kept laughing and gently tugged his sleeve. “Now sit back down so I can finish figuring out who is here without anyone telling me!” While laughing, Blaise complied, and Rochelle looked back at the groups of boys.

Let’s try and tackle this with more than just their appearances. From the list of the Sacred 28, there is really only one option for one of them, and that’s “Ernie Macmillan,” she caught herself saying allowed, as if her mouth knew it was right for at least one of the boys.

Blaise sighed out a breath from laughing. “I’m gonna get you to tell me how you’re doing that before school starts.” She couldn’t see it, but his eyes narrowed at her, like it was a threat.

Rochelle smirked as she said, “Unlikely. I’m stubborn.” She temporarily glanced at the second group of girls, and something clicked in her mind. If all the Sacred 28 were here, one of those girls must be “Hannah Abbott,” she unconsciously said aloud once again. Then, as if her filter for inside and outside thoughts was cut off, she continued. “Not surprising, the only family of the Sacred 28 not here is the Weasleys.” Rochelle’s eyes went wide as she heard what just came out of her mouth. That did not come out the way she meant it in her head. She slapped her hand over her mouth and looked at Blaise, who didn't seem as shocked as her about her statement.

”The Weasleys have never attended anyone’s birthday. And vice versa, none of us has attended one of their birthdays. It’s a shame, really.” His smile was now less amused, but still easy-going.

Rochelle dropped her hand and took a breath, making sure her filter was properly on again. “I can understand why. From everyone’s side. The Weasleys aren’t rich, so there is no way they could afford attending something this fancy. And on the flip side, their house is too small to host this many people. But what they lack in money and society, they make up for in family. I appreciate them for that.” Her gaze had drifted away from Blaise and back to the last boy she needed to identify before returning to the girls.

She couldn’t see the expression that now lay on Blaise’s face. He was intrigued, thoughtful, confused, and what can only be described as soft. He had never cared to think about the Weasleys’ situation, let alone who they are as people. Rochelle spoke as if she knew the Weasley family personally, and in a way, Blaise didn’t know yet, she kind of did.

Rochelle kept thinking about the list of purebloods who could possibly attend this party. Eventually, she was left with trying to go down the list of those in her year and cross-referencing it with the list of purebloods in her head. It was getting hard, so she glanced at Blaise and smiled. “Hey, wanna see something cool? It’s gonna help me figure out who’s left.”

Blaise perked up at this, same easy-going smile brightening in his eyes as he adjusted in his seat, giving Rochelle his full attention. “Absolutely.”

Glancing across the room, checking if anyone else would see, she carefully pulled her wand and shrunken notebook out of her pockets. She then whispered a quick Engorgio and pocketed her wand swiftly after the spell succeeded. Blaise’s eyes went wide, and he whipped his head around, making sure he was the only one who saw that. He whisper-yelled, “You can cast spells like that already!?”

Rochelle beamed a bit and giggled. “Yeah, but I'm crap at transfiguration. That sucked to find out, but you win some, you lose some, right?” She then opened her notebook and flipped through the pages, not caring that Blaise was looking at it too, clearly reading it. Eventually, she found the page with the list of names with letters written next to them. It was the list of their year with the houses everyone gets sorted into. At the bottom of the list, there are some blank names with house initials written. Rochelle started scanning the list of names to try and place the boy.

Blaise looked at the page more intently, leaning closer to read it. “What is that? I can see it is a list of names, but what are those extra letters?”

Rochelle didn't bother looking up, still scanning the list and thinking as she responded. “It’s a list of students in our year and what houses they get sorted into.”

Blaise nodded, despite Rochelle not seeing his nonverbal response. “I see. It’s the house's first initials. How do you know that? And what about the letters at the bottom- oh, hey, I get Slytherin!” He exclaims upon seeing his name at the bottom of the list, but above the empty spaces with the house letters.

Rochelle kept responding on autopilot while trying to place the last boy. “Same reason I know everyone’s names. And the ones at the bottom, I couldn’t remember their names, but I remember their houses and their gender. So at the sorting ceremony, I’m going to write down their names so I don’t forget them.” Her eyes then came to Zacharias Smith, and the book's physical description of him popped into her head. It was a match, so she then said while lazily pointing to Smith. “The last boy is Zacharias Smith.” She glanced over at the last girl she needed to place and squinted in confusion. The girl had long, slightly wavy, dark brown hair, but she was turned away so Rochelle couldn’t see her other features. She looked back at the list and decided to do a process of elimination on the girls.

Blaise nodded his head, “Sure, makes sense. Really, not at all, but that’s alright. Correct on your guess, just one more to go.” He smiled at Rochelle, noticing she really seemed to be struggling now.

Alphabetical order via last name. Hannah was out; she was already identified. Susan Bones is a half-blood. Same with Mandy Brocklehurst and Lavender Brown. Millicent was identified. Tracy Davis is half-blood. Fay Dunbar is a Muggleborn. She’s clearly not Hermione. Daphne was identified. Megan Jones and Sue Li are half-blood. Morag MacDougal- now she was a pureblood. But she is only mentioned a few times, and even then, the physical description she has is from fan sites, not the books. Rochelle takes a quick look at the rest of the names. The Patil twins are right there. Same with Pansy. Lisa Turpin is half-blood, and so is the girl simply referred to in the books as Leanne. That literally only leaves one girl this could be. So she looks at Blaise with a triumphant smile and says, “Morag MacDougal.”

Blaise slowly claps for dramatic effect. “Well done. All correct. How did you figure it out? You looked like you were struggling there.” He smirked a bit, expecting to get an answer to his earlier questions.

Rochelle gestured to her notebook and the list and said, “Process of elimination. Any of the girls on the list who I had already identified or were half-blood or muggleborn were eliminated. That literally only left MacDougal. Everyone else was easier because I had a physical description to work with, but not for MacDougal for some reason.” She huffed and muttered under her breath so low and mumbled that Blaise couldn’t hear, “Fucking Rowling’s lazy writing.”

Blaise’s eyebrow quirked up, and his smile fell to a look of bewilderment. “Physical description? What do you mean?”

Before Rochelle could answer, the door opened and Narcissa entered. She looked poised and cold. The way she did when Rochelle first met her. She looked around the room as she said, “Time to go home, children. The party is wrapping up for the adults, and we still need Draco to open his presents before bed.”

All the children except Draco stood up, including Rochelle. Blaise turned to Rochelle and happily said, "I'll send you an owl. Perhaps we can spend time together before school.”

Rochelle smiled right back and replied, “I’d like that. I’m sure my owl Aether would love the exercise.” Blaise nodded and bowed slightly as a goodbye before turning and walking out the door with the rest of the children. Once alone, Rochelle made her way over to Draco.

She sat down next to him and let out a huge breath she didn't know she was holding. Draco just laughed at her. “That was quite eventful. And I see you got on with Blaise. Should I be worried? You two make a dangerous pair.”

Rochelle laughed softly in return and looked at Draco with a playful glare. “Be afraid. Be very afraid.” That just earned her a poke on the cheek from the boy beside her. She laughed more before continuing. “Sorry, I didn't get along with Parkinson. She’s kind of a brat if I’m honest. She’ll be lucky if I don't settle things the Muggle way the next time she tries something like that. I've got no tolerance for bullies.” She said very poignantly.

Draco tilted his head, his brows crashing together with a ghost of a smile still on his lips. “Do I want to know what the Muggle way is?”

Her smile grew even wider as she laughed slightly harder. “No, probably not.” The two let silence overtake them before Rochelle broke it. “I’ll be late to you opening your presents. I have a meeting with Professor Snape. Which reminds me- Dobby!” There was a crisp pop in the air as Dobby appeared in front of her. “I need you to find Severus Snape and lead him to my room. I would use my recreational room, but I don't have any seating there yet.” Dobby smiled at her and nodded before walking out of the room instead of apparating.

Rochelle herself got up with an annoyed groan and a huff before fixing her clothes and looking at Draco. He was pouting a bit as he said, “You’re still going to be there, right? Just late?” That was just too adorable! Draco is sulking at the idea that Rochelle won't be there! That is a major win toward getting closer!

Rochelle tried her best to repress how happy that made her that Draco got attached and wanted her there. “Yes, I’ll be there, just late. I’ll try and be as fast as I can be and kick him out the moment I’m done.” She then walked out of the room and walked as fast as she could back to her room.

Chapter Text

Rochelle walked as quickly as she could to her room, politely thanking anyone she passed for attending the party. She practically ran up the stairs and down the hall, flying the door to her bedroom open and closing it with a huff. She turned around toward the room and retrieved her wand to prepare for her guest, and she momentarily paused. Shit, she forgot her notebook. She sighed and opened her door, calling, “Accio notebook,” and a few seconds later, her notebook snapped into her free hand. She closed her door again and resumed preparations. This consisted mostly of her tidying up her room to be a bit more presentable for guests.

She doesn’t have much time, and soon there is a knock at the door. She ran to her seating area and sat down, quickly fixing her dress before calling, “Come in!” Dobby was the first to walk in, running rapidly to Rochelle and away from Snape. Snape just stalked in with a glare over at Rochelle and Dobby.

The girl’s eyes went wide as she stood up from where she was seated and crouched to the floor when Dobby got close. “Miss Rochelle!” Dobby practically sobbed. He ran into her open arms, covered his face with both hands, and leaned into her shoulder.

Rochelle placed one of her hands on the back of his head and let her wand hand hover in the air behind his back. Her eyes looked up at Snape, who was slowly stalking closer before looking at Dobby again and softly speaking. “Dobby? Dobby, what's wrong? What happened?” Her touch and posture were awkward. She didn't know how to comfort the elf without doing something wrong.

Snape was now standing about six feet away, glaring down at the pair. “Train your elf better, Miss McCullen. The vermin tugged my coat to make me walk faster.” He sneered, practically growling his words.

Dobby sniffled and looked up at Rochelle. “Mr. Severus Snape kicked Dobby away! He yelled at Dobby and insulted Miss Rochelle for having an elf like Dobby. Dobby is a good elf. Miss Rochelle said so!” He had tears forming in his eyes.

Rochelle couldn’t help but gently dry his tears with her finger before she softly spoke to the elf. “Yes, yes, you're a good elf. Just remember, you can’t tug on people. That’s very rude. And while Mr. Snape was wrong in his response, you still did something wrong.” Dobby listened and nodded his head, waiting for her to continue. She knew he was waiting for a punishment; he always did, no matter how much she didn't think he needed one. It was either that she assigned a punishment, or he punished himself. So she sighed and continued, “I want you to sit in a corner of the recreational room for one hour and think about the right way to lead someone to me. When you're done, take care of Aether. Understood?” Dobby nodded his head and ran out the door to do what he was told.

Rochelle rose to her feet and glared at Snape. “And you,” she said in a low and threatening voice, or at least as much of one as a child can have. She raised her wand and pointed it at Snape as she took a couple of steps forward. “Never harm my elf, do you hear me? He is mine, and I don't take kindly to people harming what belongs to me. If you so much as look at him wrong again, I’ll hex you with something that has no counter. You’ll never be able to brew another potion again. Am I clear, Severus?” She meant it. She liked Snape, but she won't hesitate to retaliate against anyone who mistreats Dobby.

Snape, to his credit, seemed to sense she could back up that threat and responded with a slow, “Crystal,” quirking his lip up as he spoke, like it was painful to say.

After a breath, Rochelle loosened her shoulders and forcefully changed her expression into a soft smile. “Marvelous. Now-” she waved her wand, and the door snapped shut. She took a moment to focus on her magic. Imagining those twin flames again. She'd gotten so used to casting magic that she rarely needed to focus on the visualization, but now she decided to try wordless casting. Magic is 90% intent, so as long as you remember how a spell feels to cast, words are optional. So, she cast a silent muffliato and turned around, reclaiming the seat she was in before they entered the room. “-Have a seat. I plan to make this quick. Draco has to open his presents, and he wants me there.” She crossed her legs and placed her wand across her lap before clasping her hands together and resting them on her knees.

Snape’s head whipped around when the door closed, and he eyed Rochelle as she continued talking. He then silently took a seat across from her stiffly. He looked like she would expect him to look in the presence of Voldemort or Dumbledore. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Probably both, if we’re being honest. His back was a bit too straight, and his head looked somewhat embedded in place. It briefly occurs to the girl that Snape just watched a spell of his own creation be cast wordlessly by a child who has yet to begin school. This brings a satisfied smile to her face.

Rochelle took a moment to take in his appearance properly and compare it to his movie counterpart. She was a bit sad to see that his appearance is not that of Alan Rickman in the slightest, but his voice is. It seemed like each character was mixed with their movie actor in different ways. How very interesting. After a brief contemplation of Snape’s appearance, she began speaking. “I’m not one for beating around the bush, so let me cut to the chase: I want you to teach me Occlumency.”

His response was almost instantaneous. “No.” He began trying to stand back up, but he got cut off by Rochelle.

“I'm sure you know who I am and what my abilities are. Lord and Lady Malfoy must have told you. I know a lot about you, Professor Severus Tobias Snape. Too much, in fact. I know your life in a broad sense from start to finish. Your father, your experience at Hogwarts, and your relationship with Lily Evans. Just to name a few things. I know why you feel guilty for her death.” He slowly sat down in speechless shock. His face showed fear, too. She continued. “Now, this information just lives in my head. I don't need to share it, but I’m willing to use it as blackmail to get what I want. And if you teach me occlumency, this information will remain where it is.” She then picked up her notebook and began skimming through it aimlessly while she allowed him to think.

In her skimming, she found a spell she remembers being from a fanfic she read: ‘Draco Malfoy and the Mirror of Ecidyrue’ by Starbrigid. (Perfect read. Highly recommend). It’s labeled as the Macbeth Curse, or the Red-Handed curse. It causes the target to start bleeding profusely from the hands with no known origin for the blood. It’s painless and harmless, just annoying. The only one who can counter the curse is the caster. If Rochelle can cast everything written in her notebook, does that include fictional spells? If they don't exist yet, can’t she just create them herself, like she has already done? This involves testing and research.

“Why do you wish to learn the art of Occlumency? I’d assume it's to protect your knowledge of the future?” Snape said in a clipped voice, snapping each consonant in the air. It’s the same voice Rochelle has heard Alan Rickman use many times in the film. For a moment, it makes her mourn the man's death, even though he may be alive in this universe.

Rochelle just smiled, looking up at Snape from her place in her notebook. She gently holds it up in motion. “I want to use it in conjunction with a protection rune I’ve developed. I’m not worried about my knowledge of the future getting out because I'm not opposed to sharing it in the first place. It’s this book I want to protect.”

The stoic man raised a brow ever so slightly. “What an odd mixture you are. Very Slytherin, yet open to sharing secrets. You’ll protect a book, but not your mind.” His eyes sharpened. He seemed to be trying to lock eyes with the girl, but she just looked at his lips and nose. Not intentionally to not make eye contact, but because it's a habit to read someone’s lips as they speak.

Shrugging, Rochelle closed her book and smiled kindly. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Not the Slytherin thing, but the odd thing. My mind is kinda bonkers, so good luck to the sorry soul who decides to take a gander in this noggin.” She tapped her temple, indicating her mind. Her smile shifted into a teasing smirk. “Well, you’re that sorry soul, so my apologies in advance.”

He then fell silent, and after a long while of thinking, Snape took a breath and simply said, “We will start when you begin at Hogwarts. Once a week, after classes on Wednesdays. You will keep your mouth shut on my personal matters.” Well, he gave in suspiciously faster than Rochelle would like. He didn't ask many questions or protest at all. Was laying out all her blackmail from the jump truly that effective?

Instead of voicing her concerns, she just nodded her head before responding. “Alright, but can we make Wednesdays a theoretical review lesson and have practical lessons on Saturdays? I believe studying magic theory leads to learning practical magic faster.” She smiled innocently at Snape, as if she didn't just threaten him within an inch of his life.

Snape simply nodded. It looked like he wasn't breathing at all. “Acceptable.” He stood up to leave, but again, Rochelle spoke.

“I’d like to have a meeting with you after the sorting feast. There are a number of things I want to tell you, but I can’t yet. Timing is key when it comes to knowing and sharing information.” Snape simply nodded and strutted out of the room, his cape billowing behind him in that classic way Snape does.

It didn’t take Rochelle long to get back to the sitting room where she had left Draco. She walked in happily and was greeted by Draco sitting on the same couch, and the room was now filled with presents of all sizes and shapes. Narcissa and Lucius are sitting in chairs across from Draco, and there is an open seat on the couch next to him. Draco looked at her and smiled instantly, patting the seat next to him as calmly as he could muster. He seemed extra energetic, not that he can really be blamed; it is his birthday. Rochelle returned the smile and sat next to him with a little bounce. “You look like you haven’t started yet. Please don’t tell me you waited for me.” She said this with a hand to her heart, genuinely hoping she didn't hold them up.

Narcissa laughed softly. “No, dear. The opened presents are cleared out immediately to avoid clutter. However, your timing is impeccable. Yours is the next one, I believe.” She looked at the elf who must have been handing Draco the gifts. The elf nods and walks over to Draco with a small, neatly wrapped present with green paper and a black ribbon. On a white paper, neatly adhered to the top of the present, read in swirling and fancy cursive, ‘From: Rochelle.’

Draco took the present and looked at it, then at Rochelle. “I thought you wouldn't have had time to get me something. You’ve been so busy since you got here, I’d just assumed.” He delicately began unwrapping his present.

Rochelle beamed at him and shrugged slightly as she said, “In all honesty, I almost didn't have time.” He finished unwrapping it, and his eyes grew wide at the fancy-looking notebook. He flipped it over to the back and smiled when he read the nameplate.

He opened the book and suddenly, his face dropped, and he looked at Rochelle. “You did not do what I think you did.” He starts frantically flipping through the book.

Lucius quirked an eyebrow. “What is it that you think she did? That appears to me to be a blank notebook. It looks to be Slytherin colored and has a rather fetching name placard.” He said this while leaning closer to look at the notebook.

Draco ignored his father for a moment while Rochelle just beamed and nodded her head at Draco. He then laughed and threw his arms around Rochelle in the first hug the two had shared. She giggled and hugged back tightly. When they parted, she looked at Lucius and said, “I created a spell to make a notebook never run out of pages or bookmarks, but it doesn't change the size of the book. I originally made it for my notebook, but I thought Draco would like one of his own to put anything and everything he wants into it.”

The two adults looked at the pair, speechless for a few moments before they both said different things. Lucius said, “You did what?” Narcissa said, “How did you accomplish that?” However, neither was answered as Rochelle was just watching Draco admire his new notebook with fascination and pure joy. He liked it way more than she thought he would.

The days following Draco’s birthday for Rochelle are filled with research and more writing. More planning and more talking to Draco about everything she was doing. She managed to convince Narcissa and Lucius to allow her to go shopping in London and possibly take Draco with her. Which the boy didn’t seem to like, but he also didn’t seem to like the idea of her going out of the house on her own.

He was still grounded from any sort of communication with his friends. Add having a child his age that he gets along with and who was constantly in his vicinity, and you get a Draco who was abnormally attached to someone. This was so strikingly out of character for the boy that Rochelle was starting to think he was intentionally acting differently than how he was in her descriptions of him in the book. Regardless of the reason he was like this, she had to learn to be alright with it.

She was now in his closet picking out clothes for him to wear on their trip. She was in a dark red t-shirt and dark blue overalls that ended at her mid-thigh. She was also wearing the same shoes she had found herself in when she arrived in this world. Simple black and white sneakers that almost reminded her of bowling shoes. Rochelle was tasked with trying to piece together clothes for Draco that looked Muggle enough for this trip, and despite most of the clothes actually looking somewhat normal, none of them seemed to fit this time period. It either looked too old or too modern. Nothing seemed to work for being in the 90s.

Draco huffed impatiently from the chair he was slumped in, watching Rochelle rifle through his closet. “Can’t you just transfigure some of my less expensive clothes to look more Muggle? You're good with magic, so you should be able to do it.” He glared at her, unseriously.

Rochelle scoffed and peeked out of the door at him. “I suck at transfiguration. Charms and spells? That's my jam, but pretty much anything else it seems is out of my reach till we start school.” She then came out of the closet with a white polo and black dress pants. “This is probably the best we are gonna get. Put this on.” She handed it to him and sat down.

Draco took the clothes and went into the closet to change. He soon emerged, looking down at the outfit in disgust. “Just an undershirt and trousers? That's it? I feel so naked.”

Rochelle chuckled and stood up. “If you're naked, what am I? Here, put these on with whatever socks you want.” She handed him a set of dress shoes that looked a bit more worn than the other shoes he had. He reluctantly took them and put them on. Once he was done, Rochelle grabbed her backpack that had everything she needed and gestured to the door. “First stop: Gringotts to exchange money. Second stop: Leaky Cauldron to get to Muggle London through the archway there.” Draco rolled his eyes and groaned as he made his way out of the door. Rochelle laughed as she followed him. “You could have always just let me go alone.”

The pair took the Floo to Diagon Alley’s public Floo hub and walked to Gringotts. The trip didn’t take too long to exchange galleons for Muggle money, and soon the two were walking out of the Leaky Cauldron into the London streets. With a glance at Draco, Rochelle could see his apprehension, but he also wore a resolute face. Like he was determined not to be scared and to blend in. Unfortunately for him, his mask slipped whenever he saw something he didn't like. A sneer of disgust washed over his face whenever someone got too close to him or when he saw pigeons. That sneer appeared no less than three times, and they had only just stepped out of the Leaky. They hadn’t even begun walking the street yet.

Rochelle laughed and grabbed his hand, beginning to guide him. “Don’t make that face. You’re the one who insisted on coming.” She didn’t know where she was going. She just picked a direction.

Draco groaned and trailed behind her, holding tight to her hand, not to get lost in the crowd. “As you continue to see fit to remind me. I happen to be aware.” He looked around them as they walked a few more steps. “Where exactly are we going? You failed to mention what this outing is for.”

Rochelle stopped dragging Draco to walk beside him. “I need to get a few cheap notebooks. I also want to check out a music store to see if I can get a portable CD player, some blank CDs, and a burner or recorder. Whatever they're called.” She kept walking, scanning the stores they walked past to try and find her targets.

Draco rolled his eyes at her, even though she wasn’t looking at him. “I would assume all those words mean something? I know what music is, so hearing that there is a store for it isn’t surprising. But I don’t know what a CD or a CD player is.” His tone made it seem like saying unfamiliar words was painful for him.

“A CD is something that holds music on it, like a mini record. We have those at the Manor, so I know you know what those are. A portable CD player is a device that allows you to listen to CDs wherever you want. It’s small enough to carry with you. To listen to the music, you put on these things called headphones over your ears. You can listen to your music quietly so you don’t bother the people around you.” Rochelle explained as simply as she could muster.

Dumbing down something she barely got to use in her old life was harder than it looked. She listened to CDs with her radio in her room all the time and had a sizable collection. However, she never got to use a portable CD player, as by the time she would want to use one, iPods, MP3 players, and phones were more convenient. She even had an MP3 player at one point.

Draco nodded along as she spoke, seeming to understand. “So, why are you getting blank CDs?” He began to look around the shops to help spot either of the locations they were looking for.

Luckily, Rochelle saw a music store and pulled Draco into it, dropping his hand once they were inside the store. She looked around for a few moments and didn’t see any portable CD players or headphones on display, so she walked up to the man at the register with Draco trailing behind her. “Hello, sir! Do you have any portable CD players? I didn’t see any on display.” She smiled at the worker, who looked to be in his mid to late twenties.

The man smiled at the children who approached him with a warm smile. “Hello there, lass. We only got a few of them left. I have to hold them behind the counter to prevent kids from stealing them.” He reached under the counter and grabbed one. “I take it you’ll be needing headphones too, then?”

Rochelle beamed at him and nodded. “And some blank CDs and a recorder if you got them.” She glanced at Draco, who was just glancing around the room every once in a while whilst watching them interact silently.

The worker grabbed what she asked for and began punching it into the register. “I take it from your accent you’re visiting from America?” He put her items into a bag and said, “Price is £465.59. Got that much, kid?”

Pulling her backpack off and retrieving the exchanged money from the small front pocket, she counted out the bills to four £100s, one £50, and two £10s, handing over a total of £470. “Nope. I live here now. Just adopted, actually. This is my brother.” She tilted her head toward Draco.

The worker took the bills and looked over at Draco, who had a stern expression. Closed off and reserved. He nodded his head to the young blonde in greeting. The boy just took a step behind Rochelle as a response, clearly not wanting to talk. The worker opened the register and counted the girl's change. “£4.41 is your change, little lass. Welcome to London.” She took her change and the bag of her new things from the man with a warm smile.

”Thank you! Do you know what shop near here sells subject notebooks for school?” Rochelle put her things into her backpack. The bag went into the big part, and the money went back into the smaller pocket.

The man nodded with a smile. “That way.” He pointed in one direction. “Two shops down, across the street. Good luck with all your shopping, kids.” Rochelle put her backpack back on and smiled happily at the worker, waving one of her hands while she used the other to grab Draco’s wrist and walk out of the store.

The moment they were on the street again, Draco shook his hand free. “You’re not my sister. You weren’t adopted. Why did you say that?” He looked… upset? “Everybody keeps saying we’re siblings, but we are not siblings!” Draco’s voice rose the more he spoke, practically yelling by the end. So, yes, upset. Very upset.

Rochelle looked at him with a blank and neutral expression. She didn't want to make light of the situation. That would invalidate Draco’s feelings. But she also didn't think this was the time or place for a screaming match. Especially when they aren’t in the wizarding world.

So she looked into his eyes and calmly said, “I know. I’m sorry. It was the quickest way to explain the situation in a way that would leave no room for probing questions. I didn’t know you hated people saying that so much. I’ll try and correct people when I can, and I won’t say it anymore.” She walked a bit closer and whispered to him. “Can we talk about this when we aren’t in public? Your feelings matter, and I want to address whatever makes you uncomfortable, but we can’t do that when surrounded by muggles.”

Draco looked around them, then back at Rochelle, still with an angry expression. “Fine.” He hissed through gritted teeth before he walked ahead of the girl. He could at least follow the simple directions the worker gave them without being dragged. Rochelle followed behind him with concern practically dripping from her expression. That was a very sudden snap in emotions. Especially for Draco, who knew better. He knew how to maintain a social mask and hide his emotions and reactions.

The rest of the trip was spent in silence between the pair of children. The notebooks were bought easily, as well as some more Muggle clothes for Rochelle. Ones she found in her style and thus more modern than what she was used to in her old life. It wasn’t much, but she was at least able to snag a black hoodie, despite it being summer. Now she could at least relax on her lonesome in more comfort than the expensive PJs the Malfoys bought for her.

Once they got back to the Manor, Draco ran off to his room. It would seem he wasn’t ready to talk about his feelings, but Rochelle could wait. She knew he wasn’t used to expressing his real emotions, so she would go at his pace. She walked to her bedroom and emptied her backpack of her new things onto the bed before walking over to the desk with the notebooks she had just bought. Time to start preparing for her meeting with Harry.

All her research over the past few days was for this. She sat down and opened one of the notebooks with a pencil in hand. She shuffled through the parchment and books on her desk, finding the first bit she wanted to copy down.

She wrote practically nonstop for the next few hours. Only taking breaks to stretch her hand as it began cramping from constant writing. So far, everything she wanted to copy down was fitting in only one notebook. She had gotten two just in case, but it looked like she would only need one.

Today was June 14th, so she had time to finish all her preparations. She wanted to try looking for him on the 17th to give herself enough time to find Harry before the zoo trip on the 23rd. She wanted to make plans for every point of their interaction when it happened. So after she completed the notebook, she allowed herself to overthink for her remaining three days. She imagines every possible scenario she can conceive of. She planned transportation to get there, and even spent a full day convincing the Malfoys to let her go alone without sharing where she was going and what she was doing. Eventually, they caved, much to Rochelle’s delight.

Chapter Text

Her plan was delayed, as on June 19th, instead of the 17th, Rochelle was finally able to put her plan into motion. She will focus on a playground near Harry’s house in hopes of catching him there. But first, to get there and find the playground.

She walked out of Malfoy Manor in simple Muggle clothes with her wand in hand. She walked to the road and held it out over the curb. A few seconds later, the Knight Bus came ripping out of nowhere and loudly screeched to a halt in front of her.

Her body involuntarily jumped back at the sudden appearance of the bus. She beamed up at it and inspected it. This was so cool! Harry only used the bus once, but she knew enough from sources beyond just the books to know about it. She climbed onto the bus, and the conductor greeted her. “Hello there, little lady. The name’s Stan, at your service. What might your name be? I trust you got the fare?” He held out a hand for the money.

Nodding her head, Rochelle reached into her pocket and retrieved the eleven sickles she had gotten together in her preparation. She handed it over and happily replied to Stan. “Rochelle McCullen! It’s my first time using the Knight Bus. We don’t have one in America. I’m heading to Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. If you could actually drop me off at whatever playground is nearest to there, that would be greatly appreciated, but if you can’t, just the end of the street is fine. I can walk the rest of the way to the playground.”

Stan took the sickles and nodded. “Should be doable. Take a seat and enjoy the ride, little Miss McCullen.” He then let her enter the rest of the way onto the bus and closed the bus door.

Rochelle thanked him and found a seat. She strategically found a place where she could hold onto something, as she knew it wouldn’t be a smooth ride. Once seated, she tucked her wand into their backpack before putting it back on securely and gripping onto whatever she could for dear life before the bus moved.

Once in motion, it was clear the trip, which would ordinarily take about an hour and a half via car, would not take nearly that long. The bus was speeding and swerving. Dodging cars and people with such reckless ease, it was like riding an unpredictable roller coaster. It was actually kinda fun! Rochelle was laughing, giggling, and screaming with delight while clinging to her seat. It’s hard to tell how fast they were going, or even how long it took to get to their destination, but soon the bus stopped, and as Rochelle was the only occupant on the bus, Stan just looked at her and said, “Here we are. Thanks for riding with us, little witch.”

Rochelle took a moment to recover from the dizziness the bus caused her, but got up and made her way to the door. She smiled at Stan and said, “Thank you! I’ll probably call again later when I go home. So I’ll see you later, Stan!” She hopped off the bus with a happy little wave, which Stan reciprocated. The moment the doors to the bus were closed, it ripped away with a sharp crack, fading into invisibility as it got further away.

Turning around, the girl was met with a packed playground. There were a few parents there, but what seemed like over a hundred children. Not a single one of them seemed to have noticed the big triple-decker bus and the little girl who exited it. But that’s alright with Rochelle. It just means she can slip in undetected, melding into the sea of children.

She started by searching the playground for a good place to search for Harry at a distance. She saw the swings, a large structure that looked to be made of reinforced rope, and the standard slide and climbing playscape one could expect at any playground. She began making her way to the rope structure when she noticed a group of four boys at the edge of the playground near a bunch of trees. Three of them surround the fourth, smaller boy. She couldn’t quite make out many features, but she could see the smaller boy had black hair and wore extremely baggy clothes.

Instantly, she ran in that direction, and the closer she got, the more information she observed. One of the boys was very large with blonde hair. Another one, tall and scrawny. The last of the three was somewhere between the two of them. The small boy with black hair and baggy clothes had round glasses and eyes so green Rochelle could see them at a distance. There was no doubt in her mind that this was Harry getting bullied by Dudley and his friends.

As she got closer, she could hear one of the boys saying something about finally catching Harry and that he had nowhere to run now. This only made her run faster, practically throwing herself in front of Harry and yelling at the three boys at the top of her lungs, “What the heck do you think you’re doing!? Leave him alone!” Her eyes burned with a rage she hadn't felt since Snape had kicked Dobby after Draco’s party. Her protective instincts were so strong that she almost reached for her wand to hex the three boys in front of her into next week, but she didn’t. She couldn’t risk exposing magic like that.

The three boys were surprised by the sudden appearance of the girl, but the large boy, probably Dudley, collected himself quickly. “Who are you? Why are you protecting the freak? I didn’t think he had any friends at all.” He said with venom in his voice. It must not have been potent venom, though, because it didn’t affect Rochelle in the slightest.

The scrawny boy spoke next. “You don’t sound like you’re from here. And look at that hair! Are you a freak, too?” He laughed, stepping a bit closer.

The last boy scoffed, “Must be to be protecting Dudley’s freak cousin like that. Birds of a feather stay together, or something like that.” He crossed his arms and leaned down to look at Rochelle closely, as he was slightly taller than she. “Piss off, freak-ette.” The three of them laughed and tried to intimidate this new girl who came from nowhere.

These kids weren’t scary, though. Rochelle threatened the dungeon bat potions master of Hogwarts. A man who has stood before Voldemort and lied to him as a spy. Three kids couldn’t scare her, so she glared daggers at the boys and clenched her fists, positioning her feet to be ready to punch if needed. “Yeah, I am his friend. If that means I’m a freak, then I’ll wear that title proudly. There isn’t anything wrong with that. But there is something wrong with picking on others. You’re ugly bullies. Leave now, or I’ll show you how we deal with bullies in America.” She smirked, giving her expression a bit of a Kubrick stare-esque vibe. It made her look a bit insane.

The smirk seemed to have the desired effect, because Dudley and his bully friends shrank back a bit before turning and running away while calling them freaks, as if that’s a new insult. Rochelle straightened up and smiled triumphantly. She never had that much success with bullies in her old life, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She turned to look at Harry, who was sitting on the ground with his back against a tree. He looked up at her with a mixture of terror and wonder. Smiling warmly, Rochelle sat down in front of him, crossing her legs. “Hi. I’m Rochelle. What’s your name?”

She took in his appearance briefly while he spoke. He had darker skin than she would have expected, and his nose is very distinctively Indian, which means he isn’t 100% white like he was in the source material. Harry swallowed thickly and very softly croaked out, “H-Harry. My name’s Harry.” He glanced in the direction the three boys ran off in before looking back at Rochelle. “Thanks for that. But why did you help me?” His voice was soft, scared. He couldn’t fathom why someone would save him at all, let alone with so much passion.

Rochelle smiled a little wider. “Because nobody deserves to be bullied. Let alone by their own cousin. Plus, I was kinda hoping I could punch one of their lights out for being a jerk.” She sighed wistfully, dramatically tilting her head back like she was truly disappointed. “But alas, bullies in the UK are bigger wimps than the ones I met in America, so no dice.” She looked back at Harry and saw a small smile forming on his lips, which caused her to giggle a bit. This earned her a small giggle from Harry in return.

He relaxed his body a bit. Not enough to look comfortable, but noticeably less scared. “So, you’re American? Why are you here? I’ve never met a foreigner before.” His voice was a bit stronger, but still soft. As if his voice would draw too much attention. As if he didn’t have a right to take up space in this world.

She nodded her head happily. “Yup! I moved here to go to this cool boarding school. I start in the fall, so I decided to explore anywhere I can get to before I’m locked away in school for half the year. And don’t let me be your gauge for what to think about foreigners. I wasn’t kidding earlier when I agreed that I’m a freak. I’m not normal.” She giggled at herself. It was true. She has never been normal. Not in her old life, or this one. “But that just means I’m special. I like being unique. Sure, it can be lonely sometimes. But I’d rather be alone and myself than be surrounded by people and be someone I’m not.”

Harry looked at her thoughtfully. He had flinched when she called herself a freak, but relaxed the more she spoke. He looked down in thought, like her words resonated with him on some level. After a moment of silence, he looked back up and continued the conversation. “You’re going to a boarding school? That sounds cool. I wish I could go to one, but if any kid in my house does, it will be Dudley.” He looked sad again, thinking about how he would never be special or important enough to go to an expensive boarding school.

Rochelle took a few seconds to look over the boy and spotted one of his knees bleeding. She stood up and dusted herself off. “I have some water and something to put on your knee if you want.” She looked around and noticed that she would have to take him somewhere more hidden if she was going to take care of him.

Harry stood up with her, patting himself down a bit. “It’s really alright. I don’t want to be a bother. You’ve already helped me so much.” Rochelle waved her hand and shook her head, dismissing his refusal.

She took him by the wrist and resisted the urge to wince at how very thin the boy was. She began leading him into the woods a bit more and behind a very large tree, out of sight of everyone at the playground. “Nonsense, Harry. You’re my friend now. I’m going to take care of you.” He followed silently and looked more confused at being grabbed and dragged than anything.

Once behind the big tree, Rochelle checked her surroundings one more time before looking back at Harry and speaking softly, almost a whisper. “So, I kinda lied. I don’t actually have water or something to put on your knee. I will help with that, but first I have to ask you something.” This was going perfectly. The next part of her plan was set and ready to go. 

Harry looked at her, confused, but nodded his head for her to continue, so she did. “Do weird things sometimes happen when you’re upset or scared? Like changing the color or size of something, or suddenly teleporting when you’re in danger?” She remembered the accidental magic Harry did at this point. The only thing she didn’t reference was his hair growing back overnight and the thing at the zoo that hadn't happened yet.

Harry’s eyes went wide, pulling his hand away from Rochelle’s. “H-how did you know that? Who are you?” He looked ready to run, but he wanted an answer, so he remained in place, slightly leaning away from the girl.

Rochelle smiled brighter. “I knew it! I’m the same as you! I could feel it the moment I saw you! This is awesome!” She giggled and gently jumped up and down in excitement.

Harry looked more confused now. “What? The same? What are you talking about? Who are you, Rochelle?” He seemed more desperate for an answer now.

Rochelle forced herself to calm down, even though this was a bit of an act, and cleared her throat. “Uhm, before that, can I just…” she trailed off as she slowly raised her hand to Harry’s face. He flinched back, but slowly allowed her to continue. She gently brushed his hair to the side and revealed his scar.

It wasn’t like the movie at all. It looked more natural. Like a true lightning bolt. It began in the hairline above his right temple and sprawled down in two directions. One went through his right eyebrow, and the other across the middle of his forehead and ended just before it intercepted his left eyebrow. The scar covered half of the boy's forehead and looked almost fresh, as if he had only gotten it a month ago or so.

Rochelle gasped in faux surprise and widened her eyes in faux awe. “You’re Harry Potter.” She retracted her hand but kept looking at his forehead, now covered back up with hair, in awe. “You’re the Harry Potter.”

Harry now looked even more confused. “For some reason, I get that a lot. Now answer my question, please.” His voice is more determined now, but the ‘please’ was soft.

Rochelle nodded her head and swallowed, purposefully dramatic with it. “Yeah, I bet. You’re famous in our world.” She faked a moment of realization and opened her mouth. “Oh crap, you don’t know! You don’t know about magic!”

Harry looked at her skeptically. “Magic? You’re joking, right?”

Rochelle shook her head. “Those weird things that happen in high-stress situations are accidental magic. It happens to young witches and wizards before they can control themselves. I’m a witch, and you’re a wizard. I’ve got a wand and everything. I felt magic on you when I saw you, so I was hoping you were magical too.” She beamed at him and giggled. “I didn’t expect you to be Harry Potter of all people!”

Harry took a step back in shock at hearing this. “I-I don’t believe you. You said I’m famous or something? Prove you’re telling the truth.” He eyed her suspiciously, deciding he wouldn’t believe it till he saw it.

The girl nodded her head and took off her backpack, opening it just enough to fit her hand into the big pocket. She reached her hand in and retrieved her wand before crouching down to look at Harry’s knee. She gently waved her wand over his cut and said, “Episkey,” which resulted in the cut being swiftly healed and cleaned.

Harry’s eyes went wide. He leaned down and looked at his knee, touching and turning it to inspect it. Rochelle looked up at him with a smile. “See? Magic. It’s real, and we both can wield it.”

Harry looked like he was about to say something when an adult called out to them. “Hey, you kids! You can’t be going in there. It’s not safe.” Rochelle quickly hid her wand against her arm so it wasn't easily visible, just looking like a random stick she was carrying.

She stood up, closed her backpack, and put it on. “I have to go. This is gonna sound crazy, but you’re gonna have an accidental magic episode when you go to the zoo. Mrs. Figg won't be able to watch you, so you’re gonna go with them. Come back here the next day, and I’ll explain everything. I promise.” She didn't give Harry the time to respond as she then ran out of the woods.

Harry tried to run after her, but she ran to the road where there weren’t many people and held her wand out to it. In a snap, the Knight Bus was there, and she ran on, quickly saying to Stan, “Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.” She reached into the opposite pocket than she had before and handed Stan the eleven sickles.

She glanced over her shoulder and could see Harry standing a decent distance away in utter shock. She smiled at him and waved before entering the rest of the way onto the bus. And in a snap, the bus was off. Leaving a bewildered little Harry Potter behind, and the muggles none the wiser.

The next five days were largely uneventful for Rochelle. Most notably, when she first got back home, she was bombarded by Draco about what she was doing. This was the first time in the last week or so since their shopping trip that Draco had bothered to speak more than a few sentences to her. It was like he could sense that she had met Harry.

When in private, she told him how she went to try and find Harry, and succeeded. She was about to explain it all to him in detail when he said he wanted to see it for himself, and led her to Lucius’ office, where the only Pensive in the house was. It was just out in the open, so maybe it was just okay to use? They had to ask an elf to instruct them on how to extract a memory for viewing. How the house elf knew was beyond the two children, but they weren’t complaining.

The two of them watched the memory together. Rochelle wanted to see the interaction from an outside perspective. Draco probably wanted to know what Harry looked like. It started when she got off the Knight Bus the first time at the playground and ended when she sat down after boarding it the second time.

When they both emerged, Draco went silent again. He simply walked out of the room in what looked like shock of some kind. Was it because Harry wasn’t what he expected him to be? Was he disappointed? Concerned? Happy? Sad? Rochelle had absolutely no idea what Draco could be feeling, as she didn’t see him for the rest of the days before she would return to meet Harry.

She spent the rest of her time trying to figure out how to use the Pensive in various ways. Mainly, she wanted to figure out how to record songs from her memory onto her CDs so she could listen to music from her old life. She often found herself bored or unable to focus without her music. Let alone all the songs she loved to sing along to. Music was such a big part of her life and was still very important to her. So the act of not being able to listen to her favorite songs was slowly eating away at her on the inside.

It was on the day Harry would go to the zoo, June 23rd, that she finally figured out how to project a memory into the room so you didn't have to put your head into the Pensive. Now all she had to do was use the recorder to record the memories audio, and she could listen to those songs any time she wanted to! The quality wasn’t the best, but it was workable enough to make Rochelle absolutely elated.

She recorded song after song late into the night in her recreational room, where she had moved the pensive after permission from Lucius. It really was strange to her that the Malfoys appeared to be willing to let her do just about anything with enough solid reason and begging.

The next day, Rochelle was bouncing with joy as she hailed the Knight Bus in the early morning. She hopped on, paid the fare, said her destination, and took her seat, holding her CD player tightly in her hand. On the bumpy and jumpy trip back to the same playground, Rochelle happily listened to a CD that was entirely songs by one of her favorite artists who wasn’t even born yet: John Michael Howell.

She was able to fit twenty-eight songs on this specific CD, so it's only the ones she could think of off the top of her head yesterday. And with how long it took to find a memory of the songs clear enough to record, extract the memory, project it into the room, and record it, this was the only full CD she had.

When Rochelle stepped off the bus and onto the playground, she surveyed the area quickly before making her way to the woods and the large tree she and Harry had been hiding behind before. She sat on the ground, backpack next to her, leaned against the tree, her eyes closed, and happily continued to listen to her music.

She listened to another three songs before she could sense someone walking up next to her, then standing in front of her. She opened her eyes and looked up to see an angry Harry. His arms crossed, and absolute fury in his eyes. His mouth moved, like he was saying something, but Rochelle only heard the music in her headphones.

She paused the music and took her headphones off, resting them around her neck. She then looked back up at Harry and smiled as she said, “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. What did you say?”

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes. When he looked at her again, he repeated what he had said. “I said, explain how you knew that would happen.” His voice was more confident than the last time the two of them met. He didn’t seem afraid of her at all.

Nodding her head, Rochelle took off her headphones and put her CD player into her backpack before looking back at Harry. “You might want to sit down. It’s kinda a long explanation, but I'll try and be as quick as I can be.” Harry huffed and sat down in front of her, crossing his legs and leaning forward, his arms remaining crossed.

He nodded for her to continue. “So, I’m what we call in the wixen world, a Seer. Normal seers just have visions of the future or are good at Divination, which is the art of using different things to see the future. Like tea leaves, crystal balls, dreams, and, if you’re lucky enough to learn it, the stars. There are lots of different ways to use Divination.”

Harry looked less mad now and more confused. “So, you can see the future. That’s how you knew that would happen?” He paused while Rochelle nodded. “But what do you mean by ‘normal seers’? It didn’t seem like you used any tea leaves or a crystal ball. So you must have seen it in a dream, right?”

”Well, I’m not a normal Seer. I’m the first of my kind called a Reader. Basically, I don’t just know things from the future. I also know things that I shouldn’t from the past.” Rochelle said in explanation. “That’s how I knew about your accidental magic before you released that snake at the zoo.”

Harry uncrossed his arms and grabbed his knees in intrigued confusion. “I didn’t say what happened at the zoo.”

Rochelle shook her head. “You didn’t have to. I already know. You spoke to the snake, made the glass disappear, then made it reappear, trapping that jerk you have for a cousin inside.” She laughed a bit when she remembered that scene in the movies. Knowing what the real Dudley was like, she wished she could have seen this happen in person. “He definitely deserved it. Dudley is a serious piece of work, that’s for sure. It’s surprising he turns out decent in the end.”

Harry tilted his head. “In the end? What end?” He pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged his legs, looking a touch scared of what ‘the end’ actually meant.

Rochelle shook her head again. “I can only see what happens in the next seven years. So ‘the end’ means the end of what I can see. That’s all.” She then waved her hand and adjusted the subject. “Anyway, I first want to apologize for basically lying to you when we first met. Truth is, I knew who you were already. From the moment I saw your messy black hair, glasses, green eyes, and clothes that are clearly Dudley’s hand-me-downs. Not just because you’re the famous Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived. But because of my ability.”

Harry’s eyes went wide, and he hugged his knees tighter. He was at a loss for words, and Rochelle couldn’t blame him. A stranger telling you that they already knew who you were and believing them, definitely wasn’t easy to respond to. Eventually, he managed to squeak out, “So, why did you save me?”

“Don’t misunderstand, I would have stepped in even if I didn't know who you were. I have no tolerance for bullies. But I did come to this park in hopes I'd find you here.” Rochelle said as gently as she could. She wanted Harry not to think she had any nefarious motive for saving him. She wasn’t lying; she would have stepped in like that for anyone.

Harry kept quiet but scrunched his brows together and tilted his head slightly, clearly wanting to know why she would seek him out.

“I wanted to tell you about the magical world. There's a lot to talk about, so I made you this notebook.” She reached into her backpack and retrieved the notebook she spent the better part of a week writing in, and gave it to him. “I know your aunt and uncle haven’t told you you’re a wizard. They’re going to do everything they can to keep you from the magical world. So I made this for you.”

Harry took the notebook and opened it to the first page to start reading. Rochelle continued speaking. “It explains why you’re famous. How it happened and such, I mean. It’s how you got that scar on your forehead. Sorry, it’s dumbed down a bit to keep it as age-appropriate as possible. It’s some heavy stuff, so be prepared. It also says who your parents are and everything I know about them. I also tried to explain what the wizarding society is like and what to expect.”

Harry looked up at her with an expression Rochelle couldn’t quite read. “I also included what society expects of you. I always hated that you were just thrown into the wizarding world with absolutely no knowledge whatsoever. It didn’t seem fair! You didn't have a fighting chance at being able to establish who you were with knowledge of the world you were going into.” Rochelle looked away from Harry and cleared her throat. She was getting heated about the books again. She needed to work on not doing that.

Harry looked down at the open notebook that had “Why you’re famous” in bold letters at the top. The first few lines of text read, “It all started the day your parents died. Halloween of 1981. A man named Voldemort killed them. Everyone calls him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named because of some stupid superstition. So, try and not call him Voldemort in public.”

The two shared a few moments of silence. Rochelle knew this was a lot of information, and she didn't want to overload Harry. He seemed to be taking it rather well, but she would rather play it safe and let him process as slowly as he needs.

Harry closed the notebook and just stared at the cover. “So, you know everything about me?” He glanced up at Rochelle. She couldn't read his expression. He looked almost hopeful, but still reserved and skeptical.

The girl nodded her head. “Well, kinda. I definitely know more about you than I should. I know this is a lot to take in, and you must have a lot of questions, so we can exchange letters if you want.” Rochelle then pulled out her wand and whispered a spell that she found to summon an owl after forming a magical bond with the creature. She made sure to form the bond with Aether as soon as she was able, so Rochelle could summon her from anywhere.

Harry's posture stiffened, and his gaze sharpened. “What did you do? What was that?” Apparently, he isn't as comfortable with magic as Rochelle thought he was.

She smiled at him warmly. “I was just summoning my owl so you can meet her. You see, wixen don't send letters through the post the way muggles do.” Harry tilted his head. “Muggle is what we call people who aren't magical. Actually, in America, we call them no-mags, but anyway, we use owls to send letters, packages, and even the newspaper and magazines.”

Harry nodded slowly. His gaze shifted down to Rochelle's wand. She noticed and held it out to him, offering him the handle. “Wanna see it? You can hold it, but don't try to cast any magic with it. It won't work right, and your magic may go haywire. Wands are picky with who wields them.”

Harry slowly reached out and took her wand. He turned it in his hand and stared at it in awe. “It's pretty in a strange way. It feels… it feels like… a bit cold? Like it's buzzing. I don't think it likes me. Is that weird to say?” Harry said softly.

Rochelle chuckled and shook her head. “Not weird at all. Wands are semi-sentient. Everyone says ‘the wand chooses the wizard,’ which means you don't get to choose what wand you get. Just like every person is unique, every wand is unique. And when the right wand finds you, holding it is like coming home.” Her smile fades a bit.

She got her wand when she was stuck without control of her body, and her mind was filled with fog. She didn't get to experience her wand choosing her. She loved the feeling of wielding it and casting magic, but that unique experience of testing out wands until you find the right fit, she didn't get that. It made her sad and envious of everyone else.

Harry must have noticed her shift in expression because he promptly handed her wand back. And just in time, too, as Aether landed on the ground next to them, as if she had spawned from nowhere.

Rochelle brightened immediately and ran her fingers through Aether’s feathers just behind her head lovingly. “This is Aether. I'll send her to visit you every few days in case you have a letter for me. She's super smart and really fast. I'm lucky to have her.”

Aether fluffed her feathers and leaned into Rochelle's hand. She seemed to understand the praise and relished it. Harry tentatively reached out, and Aether looked at his hand for a few moments before hopping away from Rochelle and closer to him, leaning into his hand for pets.

Harry’s eyes sparked, and his smile brightened. He happily petted Aether, admiring her. “It's nice to meet you, Aether.” He said softly, as if he were afraid of scaring her.

A few moments passed with silence, just petting Aether together, before Rochelle spoke. “Harry, it's really important that you don't let your family know that you know about magic. I probably already messed with the timeline too much, just telling you magic exists in the first place. Let alone all the information in that notebook.” Her tone and smile took on a serious tone.

Harry looked back at her with just as much seriousness. He nods his head once before looking back at Aether for only a moment. “So, I can ask you anything? Just send it to you through Aether? I can still talk to someone about magic?” His gaze returned to Rochelle with hope swimming in it.

She nodded and smiled softly. “Of course. Even if it isn’t about magic, you can write to me. I wasn’t lying when I said we were friends now.” A smile crept onto Harry’s lips as he nodded his head happily.

Rochelle then had a sudden realization that she had never actually gotten a letter from Blaise yet. Nor has she written to him. So she reached into her backpack and pulled out some parchment and a quill with an ink well, as well as an envelope. “Speaking of writing to friends, I just realized I never did.” She took out her notebook as a hard surface to write on and got situated to write. “I made a friend about three weeks ago. We said we would write to each other, but neither of us did. I was busy, but I don’t know what his excuse is.”

As she began writing the letter, Harry was eyeing all the things she had just retrieved from her backpack. “Why aren’t you using a pen or pencil?” He asked. “Am I going to have to get a quill and ink to write to you?” He frowned a bit at the notion.

Rochelle chuckled softly. “No, you won't. A normal piece of paper and any normal writing utensil will be fine. The wizarding world is just really weird. Parchment is still the primary thing to write on, same with using a quill and ink. I’m only using them to write to Blaise because I know that’s what he is used to. He would probably be uncomfortable getting a letter using Muggle stationery.” She continued writing as she spoke.

Harry scooted closer and adjusted his seat so he could read what she was writing. Which is a breach of privacy, but Rochelle didn't particularly mind. It read:

Blaise,

My apologies for not writing to you sooner. I haven’t got the best memory, and I’ve been quite busy since Draco’s birthday. How have you been? I trust your journey home after the party was alright?

As I’ve said, the past three weeks have been busy for me. I’ve spent most of it studying and researching. However, I did manage to take a trip into Muggle London for a small shopping trip with Draco! Can you believe it? Can you imagine him in public, surrounded by muggles and blending in? I’m actually proud of how well he did, if I’m being honest.

We did have a bit of a fight, though. He barely spoke to me for a solid week, but something private happened that made him close himself off more. You know him better than I do. Any advice you can give would be greatly appreciated.

Where exactly do you live, by the way? I think I remember something about you living in Italy, but I may be mistaken. I look forward to receiving your owl.

Sincerely, 

Rochelle

Once she finished, she grabbed her wand and cast “thermo”, the hot air charm, to dry the ink of her letter. She then folded the parchment and placed it into the envelope, then paused. Shit, she doesn’t have wax or a seal. She does have stickers, though, for some reason. So she opened the letter again and added more to the bottom. 

P.S. Please don’t mind the thing holding the envelope closed. That’s a Muggle thing called a sticker. I don’t have a wax seal of my own yet, and it didn't feel appropriate to use anyone else’s. So, until I can get a seal of my own, I’ll have to make do with stickers.

She dried the ink, repacked the letter, and sealed the envelope with a sticker of a red bow. She then handed the letter to Aether, who took it in her beak. Rochelle then said, “Take this to Blaise Zabini. Wait for a response, please. I’ll be back at the Manor when you come back, so I’ll make sure Dobby makes you an extra special meal.” Aether chirped happily and took off with the letter.

Harry was watching all of this silently, but once he watched Aether fly away, he spoke. “So that’s all I do to send a letter? I just give it to her, say who it's for, and wait for a response if I want one?” He looked back at his new friend.

She looked at him in return and shrugged a bit. “Kinda. That's how it would go if you had your own owl. If the owl doing the delivering doesn’t belong to you, you don’t really need to say anything. Maybe a thank you and give them a treat if you have any, but it's the owner's job to tell the owl what to do.” She then began packing up her things into her backpack.

Harry nodded and watched her do this for a few moments silently. “I want to ask about Blaise and that Draco guy you mentioned in your letter, but I feel bad for snooping.” He said, blushing in embarrassment, after she had closed her bag.

Rochelle smiled at him knowingly. He was definitely hoping to be friends with whoever Rochelle was friends with. “It’s alright. I knew you were reading it. I would have tried to cover it or moved away if I minded. Draco is the son of the family that took me in. See, I'm an orphan. But my ability sent me to the UK to be studied, so I had to find a family to take me in. He just turned eleven since his birthday was a few weeks ago. I met his friend Blaise at the party we had.” She tried not to share too much about Draco for fear of ruining how the two of them first met.

Harry listens to her with rapt attention. “Are they… like us?” He asked softly.

”You mean, do they have magic? Yes. They were both raised in the magical world. The whole blood status thing is explained in that notebook I gave you, but Draco is pure blood and Blaise is half blood.” Harry beamed at hearing that there were other children with magic. It took everything Rochelle had not to spill everything. She didn't want to ruin Harry's learning about Hogwarts from Hagrid, so she couldn’t tell him about that.

To save herself from saying the wrong things by accident, she decided it was time to leave. She stood up and brushed off the dirt from her clothes. “I think I should go, though.” Another realization hit her. “Oh! I completely forgot!” She looked at Harry, who had stood up with her and was dusting himself off, when he looked back at her. “You can’t tell anyone you can speak to snakes. Only a specific family line can speak Parsaltongue, so it’s abnormal for you, who isn’t from that family, to speak it. That's the name of the snake language, and speaking it makes you a Parsalmouth.”

Harry scrunched his nose up and looked down. “So even in the magic world, I'm still a freak?” He said dejectedly. He was clearly upset by the idea that he could still be called a freak despite finding out that his ‘freakishness’ is actually completely normal.

Rochelle grabbed his shoulders and leaned down to force eye contact. “No, Harry. You aren’t a freak. You never were, and you never will be. Don’t ever think that about yourself again, do you hear me? You’re a completely normal little wizard. I only told you to keep it a secret because Parsalmouths are incredibly rare. If people found out, they’d want to take advantage of you. They would also try and figure out why you can speak Parsaltongue when you aren’t a descendant of that family. It’s not a secret because it's bad; it's a secret to protect you from other people who are bad.” Oh no, her protective instinct was acting up again. Why did she always get so passionate about protecting people?

Harry looked into her eyes with surprise. His body stiffened at her touch, and his eyes got slightly watery at her speech. This poor boy truly wasn’t used to other people caring about him. He was so strong, which is admirable, but he should never have had to be so strong. Nobody should ever have to be this surprised that someone cares.

Harry slowly nodded his head, and Rochelle couldn’t hold herself back and hugged him tightly. “Please try to remind yourself that you’re not alone. You have me, and soon you’ll have so many people who care about you. Just wait a little while longer. I promise everything will work out.” She will do her damnedest to make that promise hold. She already has her plans.

Harry didn't hug back, probably from shock at being suddenly hugged. So Rochelle let go and grabbed her backpack and wand. “I’ll give you a couple of days to read that notebook and come up with whatever questions you have, then I’ll send Aether.” She turned toward the emptier part of the road and waved at Harry. “See ya later!” Harry waved back, still in a bit of a daze as he watched Rochelle’s retreating figure. She called the Knight Bus yet again, and off she went back to Malfoy Manor.

Chapter Text

~Draco's POV~

After he finally got home from that awful trip surrounded by muggles, Draco went as quickly as he could to his room to think. He had gotten so angry earlier. Why had he gotten so angry? He slammed his bedroom door closed once he was inside and sat down in his favorite chair in a huff. Stupid Rochelle and her stupid muggle things and her stupid need to be honest all the time!

That was something he noticed about Rochelle within the past 2-ish weeks she had been here. Any question she was asked, she would answer without hesitation, and with so much honesty, it was a wonder how she weaseled her way into the esteemed Malfoy household. You need Slytherin cunning for that type of feat, and here she was blabbering on like a bloody Hufflepuff!

It was strange, though, how she would sometimes seem too mature for eleven years old, but other times she would act far younger than her age. She got giddy about the strangest topics, like Muggle music and spell research. Even that time at his birthday when she got all smiley about how she had done her nails using her metamorph ability. Some of it was easier to get used to than other parts. He could accept her sudden bursts of excitement about certain topics and file it under being just one of her oddities. However, her honesty was something he had gotten a bit too used to too quickly.

At that Muggle music store, she didn’t need to refer to him as her brother. Sure, in practice, the contract placed them in the position of siblings. And Mother often referred to them both as such, but Draco was an only child. He didn't ask for a sister. He didn’t need one. Why hadn’t anyone asked for his opinion on the matter? Everyone seemed to just assume he would be alright with this arrangement. Did his opinion truly not matter to them in the least?

It wasn’t as if he wasn’t fond of Rochelle; he truly was. Despite how off-putting she can often be, she was kind, comforting, and entertaining to converse with. Draco considered her a friend, at the very least. She had been the only other peer he had been able to converse with after all, since he was grounded. It’s a bit hard not to grow closer when one has nobody else to talk to. However, they weren’t siblings. They were friends. Only friends. Acquaintances, even. Nothing more.

That’s what he will have to project going forward. That they are not close. It is a transactional relationship where Rochelle tells him things about Harry and the future, and Draco…what does he do for her? He can’t quite remember what she got out of the contract. Wasn’t it just a place to stay? That seemed like a lopsided deal. Not equal at all. Mother and Father most definitely made it out with the better end of the deal.

Draco began to get restless, so he rose from his chair and changed his clothes to Quidditch leathers. He needed to clear his head and stop all this thinking for a while. When he passed Rochelle’s room, he peeked out of pure curiosity. What he found was Rochelle sitting at her desk, writing fervently in one of the cheap and flimsy notebooks she had gotten during their shopping trip. She’s studying again. Of course, she is.

Draco shook his head and kept on his journey to the pitch in the garden. He’s spent most of his recent days talking with Rochelle or watching her research and study. He hadn't flown in quite a while, and the moment he mounted his broom, Draco realized exactly how much he missed it. He spent the remainder of that day flying mindlessly. Enjoying the wind through his hair and the feeling of the broom in his grasp.

The day finally came when Rochelle had gotten permission from Mother and Father to go who knows where and do who knows what. Why did it seem like she was the favorite child? She isn’t even their real daughter! Was it pity for the orphan? Or was she just that good at manipulation that even Draco couldn’t see it? Regardless of how she had managed to achieve permission, it was Draco’s mission to learn every detail of her trip. Perhaps make use of Father’s Pensive.

He watched the girl walk out of the front of the Manor and to the road in her tacky Muggle clothes through his bedroom window. She held out her wand over the curb, and this humongous automobile rushed in from nowhere. Draco had seen something a bit like it when on the trip to Muggle London, but he hadn’t asked what they were called. He watched her board the big vehicle, chat with the conductor, and watch the thing speed off in a loud crack he could hear from inside the Manor.

For the hours Rochelle was gone, Draco spent his time reading a potions book he had started a while ago but hadn't picked back up. It was an interesting read. It talked about the potential improvements in calming droughts and what experiments the author performed. Not that Draco had the opportunity to conduct any experiments himself. Uncle Severus would never approve of unregulated experimentation.

When Draco heard the crack of that strange, large vehicle, he ran to the window and saw Rochelle happily skipping back into the Manor. She looked thoroughly pleased with herself. For some reason, that irritated Draco to no end. He quickly ran to intercept the girl before she got too far into the house. She entered the front door, and instantly, Draco let loose. 

“What were you doing for three hours? Where did you go? Why didn't you tell me before you left?” He didn't give her a moment to answer before he dragged her into an empty room.

Once they were sure of their solitude, Rochelle smiled brightly at Draco and said in a hushed voice, “I went to find Harry, and succeeded!” She giggled, clearly pleased with her triumph. Draco fumed inside, and the moment she opened her mouth to start speaking again, he grabbed and dragged her again. This time into Father’s study and to the only pensive in the manor.

He called an elf and asked them to explain how to extract a memory to use the pensive. Once it was explained, Rochelle readily extracted the memory of her little excursion and placed it into the water. Together, the two dove in.

The memory starts with her exiting the strange vehicle. “Thank you! I’ll probably call again later when I go home. So I’ll see you later, Stan!” She said as she hopped off the bus with a happy little wave that the man, Stan, returned. She stepped out into an area where children seemed to be playing. Draco looked at the structures with wonder. He had never seen anything like this. Something inside him wanted to run and play with the other children there. It was a strange and unfamiliar feeling. Clearly, Rochelle has seen this place, or something like it, before, because she simply surveyed the area strategically.

She began walking in the direction of one of the structures when something in the distance seemed to catch her eye. Draco followed her line of sight and couldn’t figure out what she was looking at before she began running in that direction with determination in her face. The memory followed the girl's movements without Draco moving a muscle. Running while not running was a strange feeling. The closer she got, the more Draco was able to focus on what it was she was running toward. It would seem like a boy was getting bullied, and true to the kindness he had seen thus far in Rochelle, of course, she was going to help. How very Hufflepuff of her.

He watched as Rochelle threw herself in front of the small boy, now cowering on the ground against the tree like a weakling. “What the heck do you think you’re doing!? Leave him alone!” She yelled at the three boys who were all bigger than her. There was a fury in her eyes that Draco hadn’t seen before. Her right hand twitched a bit, clearly wanting to hex the children in front of her, but she refrained. She's too smart to risk hexing Muggle children. Draco wouldn’t have expected any less.

The boy she was protecting looked up at her with fear. He wore oversized rags, and he clearly doesn’t know what a comb is. He had these round, wire rim glasses and eyes so green it was almost enchanting to look into them. However, the fear in his eyes ruined it for Draco. And he was so small. How could a child be so weak? Draco shifted his gaze to the boys now looming over Rochelle and suddenly understood why the boy was scared. They were intimidating children.

The large boy glared at Rochelle. “Who are you? Why are you protecting the freak? I didn’t think he had any friends at all.” He said with a potent venom coating his words, especially around the word ‘freak’. Draco noticed the small boy flinching. He must be used to being called that.

The tallest of the boys laughed as he spoke. “You don’t sound like you’re from here. And look at that hair! Are you a freak, too?” Rochelle’s expression didn't change. Strange. She normally gets upset when someone insults her hair. Looking closer, Draco noticed absolutely no fear in Rochelle. She wasn’t intimidated in the slightest, which came as a shock. Draco knew she wasn’t intimidated at his birthday party, but that was just Pansy. Another little girl the same size as her. Rochelle even had the advantage of being able to use magic already. But right now, or an hour or so ago, she didn't have magic, and the boys are bigger and outnumber her. Yet, she remains fearless. Was she actually a Gryffindor? Did Draco even know her at all?

While Draco was lost in his thoughts, the last of the three boys said, “Must be to be protecting Dudley’s freak cousin like that. Birds of a feather stay together, or something like that. Piss off, freak-ette.” It’s ’flock together’, you moron. Draco rolled his eyes at the clearly idiotic boy while the three of them laughed.

Rochelle shifted her stance a bit, clenching her fists tightly as she responded. “Yeah, I am his friend. If that means I’m a freak, then I'll wear that title proudly. There isn’t anything wrong with that. But there is something wrong with picking on others. You’re ugly bullies. Leave now, or I’ll show you how we deal with bullies in America.” Wait. She's claiming the whimpering boy as a friend? A title she only seemed to call Blaise and Draco? Does she know who this boy is? Maybe she is just saying that to get the boys to back off, and she doesn’t mean it. The bit about bullies in America explains why she wasn't scared. If she were bullied in her homeland, it would make sense why she seems fearless in the face of bullies.

Draco then watched as Rochelle smirked. Her entire vibe radiated a level of crazy described in Azkaban prisoners, or the Black family madness. It actually scared Draco far more than the three boys did. He was actually scared of the same girl who would get all giddy and giggly over making her nails pretty colors. It was jarring. Who exactly was Rochelle? Where did she come from to be able to appear that mad?

Draco wasn’t the only one who got scared of the girl, as the bullies made a quick exit, hurling insults as they ran. Almost instantly, Rochelle’s expression went from that scary smirk to a soft smile of triumph. She truly was a master of acting if she could look clinically insane one moment and like a proud and innocent little girl the next. That kind of emotional manipulation was an admirable Slytherin trait. What house would she be sorted into? It wouldn’t be surprising if she were a hat stall, with how hard Draco was finding it to place her.

The small boy against the tree looked at her with almost admiration. He was still scared, but he seemed to appreciate the save. If he had seen the expression Rochelle had made, Draco was sure the boy would be absolutely terrified of the girl. As if a switch had been flipped, she then smiled warmly at the small, cowering boy and sat cross-legged in front of him. “Hi. I’m Rochelle. What’s your name?” She said in the most soothing voice Draco has ever heard from her.

The boy spoke very softly, almost too quietly to hear. “H-Harry. My name’s Harry. Thanks for that. But why did you help me?” Harry. Draco stared at the boy, eyes wide in disbelief. Based on Rochelle’s unsurprised expression, she clearly knew this already. Harry. She said she succeeded in finding Harry. Harry Potter, Harry. This small, scared, clearly mistreated little boy was the same Harry who is the main character of Rochelle’s ability. The one who would have been his rival in another life. The one whom Draco had wanted to be friends with for as long as he could remember. The same Harry that Draco pestered Rochelle with questions about. The same Harry Rochelle had teased him about having a crush on.

Draco knew he lived in the Muggle world, but she refused to say anything about what his home life was like or how he lived before entering the wizarding world. A pit formed in Draco’s stomach as his eyes began to ache. Harry was bullied. By his cousin, and probably his adult family. Children are precious, especially The-Boy-Who-Lived. How could someone treat Harry Potter like that?

Draco snapped out of his horrified musings to the sound of Rochelle’s voice. “Because nobody deserves to be bullied. Let alone by their own cousin. Plus, I was kinda hoping I could punch one of their lights out for being a jerk. But alas, bullies in the UK are bigger wimps than the ones I met in America, so no dice.” Draco then saw Harry smile and giggle. Giggle. A small boy who was just being bullied smiled and giggled, and Draco could only stare. He couldn’t identify what he was feeling. It was a mixture of sadness, pity, and a few brighter emotions he couldn’t name.

Harry then spoke again, this time with more confidence. Not much, but still more. The two children kept conversing, but Draco shrank into his thoughts. Rochelle knew. She knew what Harry looked like, what his life was like, and didn't tell Draco about it. She was probably hoping he would be too stupid to deduce it for himself in this memory. She had called him a swot when they first met, so she knew he was smart enough to figure it out for himself. Did she just forget she wanted to keep him in the dark on this?

He tuned back in and heard Rochelle, “…I wasn’t kidding earlier when I agreed that I’m a freak. I’m really not normal.” She giggled. “But that just means I’m special. I like being unique. Sure, it can be lonely sometimes. But I’d rather be alone and myself than be surrounded by people and be someone I’m not.” Draco paused. He had assumed she was just trying to put Theo and Vince off balance at the party when she made it seem like their insults didn't reach her. But she was actually aware she was strange and accepted it about herself. More than accepted it, she praised it. Draco was always told to be what others wanted, and you’d be happier and more successful in life. The pit in Draco’s stomach began to ache and constrict. Twisting in on itself. He wanted to feel that way. But he didn’t have that luxury.

Harry said something that made him look sad again, but Draco didn’t catch it. Then, Rochelle stood and dusted herself off as she said, “I have some water and something to put on your knee if you want.” She looked around and seemed to decide to go further into the woods. Harry tried to deny her help, but in true Rochelle fashion, she just grabbed his wrist and led him where she wanted to go. “Nonsense, Harry. You’re my friend now, I’m going to take care of you.” She said on the way to a large tree and hid behind it with the small boy. She continued, “So, I kinda lied. I don’t actually have water or something to put on your knee. I will help with that, but first I have to ask you something.” Where was she going with this? Why would she lie to Harry? Draco didn't think she was capable of lying.

After confirmation that she could ask whatever she needed to from the confused-looking Harry, she asked, “Do weird things sometimes happen when you’re upset or scared? Like changing the color or size of something, or suddenly teleporting when you’re in danger.” Merlin’s beard, she's referencing accidental magic! She's going to introduce Harry to magic, if he didn't already know, that is. And clearly he didn't, because he then looked scared and asked how she knew and who she was.

Rochelle truly was good at acting, because she then smiled brightly and exclaimed that she could feel magic on him the moment she saw him. That was an obvious lie to Draco, as he knew she already knew who Harry was. But to anyone who didn't know that already, it was an impeccably convincing lie. Harry continued to hurl questions at her, and unlike what Draco was used to, she didn't answer right away. In fact, she instead reached up and pulled back Harry’s hair, revealing the famous scar.

Draco took a step closer and observed the scar. It was incredible, and a bit grotesque. A true lightning bolt. Anyone in the wixen world would see that scar and know who they were talking to. Rochelle’s acting struck again in portraying that, acting shocked at the ‘realization’ that he was Harry Potter. Revealing that he is famous to them and being shocked that he doesn’t know about magic. But Draco knew that Rochelle already knew he didn't know about magic. She had to have known.

Draco watched as Rochelle proved magic existed by healing his bleeding knee. But the two were interrupted by a random adult. She then quickly stood up, donned her backpack, and said, “I have to go. This is gonna sound crazy, but you’re gonna have an accidental magic episode when you go to the zoo. Mrs. Figg won’t be able to watch you, so you’re gonna go with them. Come back here the next day, and I’ll explain everything. I promise.” Before running back onto the vehicle. Then the memory ended.

Who is Mrs. Figg? She had to know about his accidental magic episode from her ability. Didn’t she mention something a while ago about the start of the first book being in the summer? Some time this month for sure. The 23rd? That sounded right. So that means she's going to go back out to meet Harry on the 24th. What happens at the zoo? What is a zoo? Draco had so many questions, but the main emotion he was feeling, amongst the many, was betrayal. How could Rochelle have kept that much information about Harry from him? He asked enough questions that she should have told him about all of that within any of her many answers.

He just stood there, speechless, for a few seconds as his mind raced. He then turned and left the study without so much as a glance in Rochelle’s direction. The image of Harry was now burned in his mind, and he couldn’t escape it. The image Rochelle had painted of Harry to Draco was more…Gryffindor-ish. It was nothing like the small, scared boy he had just seen. It was startling. Couple that with the version of Rochelle he had just seen. She was so effortless and convincing in her acting. It made Draco wonder how much she was acting when the two of them were alone. Did he really know her at all?

When he got back to his room, he decided he was mad at Rochelle. He ignored her for the next few days. Refused to be in the same room as her. He wouldn’t be happy again or forgive her until she apologized for keeping things from him and lying. If she ever lied to him, that is. He still couldn’t figure out if she had ever lied to him outright. She clearly kept information from him, but he didn't know if anything she told him was a lie. He didn’t know what she was doing during those days, and at the moment, he didn't care.

The 24th came sooner than Draco had anticipated, and Rochelle left the Manor the same way she did the first time. And just like before, Draco spends the time reading, but it takes longer than last time. They must have spent more time talking. And just like last time, when she returned home, Draco tried to get her to share her trip via the pensive. But she says no. No. She said no to Draco. She hasn't done that before. ”Why not?” Draco said through clenched teeth. His expression was positively furious.

”Because,” she said, looking away from him like she was guilty, “we talked about some private stuff. I don’t wanna share that unless Harry says it’s okay.” She shuffled her feet beneath her. If Draco didn't know how good an actress she was, he would almost believe she was feeling guilty.

Draco huffed a breath through his nose like an angry dragon and crossed his arms. “Well, you’ve kept things from me before about him, yet you didn’t think to tell me you were keeping quiet before. What’s different now?” Her eyes darted back over to his, swimming in surprise. “Yes, I noticed you failed to inform me about Harry being bullied and the fact that he didn’t know he was a wizard. Or anything about the fact that magic exists, for that matter. Were you ever going to tell me?”

Rochelle’s mouth gaped open and closed for a few moments before she quietly muttered, “I didn’t think it was my place to share.” Her expression was masterfully genuine yet again. Just how good at manipulation was this girl?

Draco rolled his eyes and scoffed. “You truly are a great actress. Are any of your emotions real? Is anything you say true? How often have you lied to me?” His voice progressively got louder and louder. He stopped himself and took a breath. He then looked right into the girl's guilty eyes and said, “Do I even know you?” Then he walked away, back to his bedroom. Locking the door behind him, despite knowing full well she could unlock it effortlessly.

It was another two days before Rochelle tried to talk to him. She knocked on his door and, upon entry, handed him a letter, looking expertly sheepish. He took the letter and saw, surprisingly, Blaise’s handwriting. He looked up at the girl with a raised brow. “What is this?”

Rochelle, to her credit, seemed to recognize Draco’s mistrust and looked down, away from his eyes. “I may or may not have written to Blaise, freaking out because you're mad at me, and I needed help. Since your mom and dad aren’t letting letters from your friends through, he wrote to you through me. I’m delivering it.” She bit the bottom of her lip and rolled it in her teeth gently. Her brows crashed together as she took a deep breath and continued. “I know now that you think I’ve lied to you. I’ve omitted things, yes, but I’ve never- I’ve been intentional in not lying to you.” Her eyes flashed for a moment with guilt. So there was something she lied about.

Putting the letter in his lap, Draco looked her dead in the eyes. “How can I trust anything you say? You're an impeccable actress, I saw for myself in your memory. No sane person can look that insane and switch back to sanity unless they are good at acting.” He looked down at the unread letter. “Stay here. I want to talk about this after I’ve responded to Blaise.” He didn’t wait for a response and began reading.

Dear Draco,

Rochelle wrote to me so frantically that she used Muggle stationery. While I’m sure that may be normal for her, given her oddities, she wrote her first letter to me the traditional way. I’ve only met Rochelle once, but from what I’ve gathered, she takes other people into account in her actions. She seems more comfortable with Muggle things, which is beyond my understanding for a pure blood witch raised in the wixen world. However, she decided to forgo the Muggle stationery when writing to me, likely with my comfort in mind.

All this to say, I believe she is genuine to a fault. To the point of her own detriment. She doesn’t seem like the manipulative type, or at least uses it as a last resort. She keeps her secrets, like the fact that she refuses to tell me how she knew everyone’s names at your party without anyone introducing themselves. However, I don’t believe she would keep something hidden from you unless it was important to do so. Based on her frantic letter, she truly cares for you and wants nothing but full, bare honesty.

Talk to her. Take what she says at face value. If you truly believe in your heart of hearts that she is lying and maliciously manipulative, then feel free to write her off and distance yourself. I, however, will continue being her friend. I just got to know her, and I truthfully believe you would be missing out on a very fruitful and genuine friendship should that come to pass.

She did not say anything about what you believe she has lied about or omitted, so that is still your little secret. However, I would appreciate being in the loop. It's a bit hard to grow a friendship through letters alone. So the content of the letters must be significant.

Rochelle offered to handle our correspondence, so please give her your reply.

Don’t be a dullard.

Sincerely, your wise friend,

Blaise Zabini.

Draco frowned at the letter. Blaise was always good at reading people, and this was the most stellar review he had ever heard from the boy. He will truly be friends with her even if Draco decides not to be? They were ordinarily a package deal. The same goes for Theo, Vince, and Greg. However, Draco has a sneaking suspicion that Theo doesn’t care for her, and they will likely never be friends. He sighed and walked over to his desk to write a reply.

Dear Blaise,

If you are able to keep your mouth shut and keep this between just you, me, and Rochelle, I don’t mind keeping you in the loop and spoiling her fun. Though that may be the malice and frustration talking. I plan to have a chat with her the moment I'm done writing this, so there will be an update in my next letter.

I’ve decided to take your advice. So far, my mind has been the one telling me of her lies, but my gut tells me she is the most honest person I’ve ever met. A sneak peek into the secret is that she knows a lot of things she has no business knowing. I’ve asked her many questions, and it appeared as though she was forthcoming with the answers. However, there is one particular topic I had asked a significant amount about, and that was the source of my skepticism about her honesty. She shared a memory with me, and I deduced that she kept a lot of important information from me about this topic. Clearly, she knew that I sought to know every morsel of information about this topic, yet she utterly ignored that fact and kept such vital details from me.

I will hear her out on her reasoning, but I will withhold my judgment until I have time to think. I won’t tolerate further omission from her and expect every one of her secrets to be spilled by the next time I write.

Greatest thanks for your assistance.

Don’t call me a dullard.

With the utmost respect,

Draco Malfoy.

He began to blow on the ink to dry it when Rochelle walked up next to him and pointed her wand at the parchment. “Thermo,” she uttered softly, causing hot air to shoot out from the tip of her wand and make quick work of the wet ink. Draco looked at her with a blank expression. He hadn’t asked for help. She must have understood the blank look as one accusing her of doing wrong, as she pulled her wand away as soon as the charm had done its job and stepped back with a soft “sorry.”

Draco took a moment to look her over. Truly study her body language. She was nervous and insecure. She looked ready to run while simultaneously holding herself from speaking unfiltered. She looks more shaken now than she even remotely did when facing Pansy or those Muggle children. How strange. What did that mean?

He folded the letter, placed it in an envelope, and sealed it with royal blue colored wax using his personal seal. He then handed the letter to Rochelle, and she secured the letter in the front pocket of that awful, long-sleeved muggle garment she insisted on wearing despite it being summer outside. He then waited, watching the girl as she watched him back, studying him with a look of apprehension in her eyes.

Rochelle then cleared her throat after a moment before speaking. “So, uhm. What do I have to say or do to make you forgive me?” She was playing with the sleeve hem of her garment, hiding her hands in it as she fidgeted.

Draco crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. “Share your memory of your second meeting with Harry. If you won't do that, then explain why you can’t. I understand the concept of needing secrets, but you don’t seem to keep any of your own, just those of others.” He watched her closely.

She nodded her head slowly. “I can’t tell you. You’re right that I don't have… many… secrets of my own. I only really keep quiet about the private lives of those I know things about. Like Harry and Professor Snape. It’s not my place to share unless they say they’re ok with it. Honestly, it feels a bit wrong to know in the first place. It was fine before, when I didn’t know them as people and only knew them as characters in a book. But meeting and talking to those characters is completely different.” Draco nodded his head in understanding, despite not actually understanding it. But Blaise said to take what she says at face value. Did that include when he didn't understand?

He decided to ignore the comment about his godfather being one of the people she knows the private life of, for now. “But why keep this from me? You are aware of my thoughts on Harry, yet you didn’t even consider sharing important information about him.” Draco said with a hint of a whine in his tone.

Rochelle shook her head. “Who it is doesn’t matter. How would you feel if Harry asked about you, and I told him about your greatest shame? It’s sensitive information. I can’t tell you about the last visit because I told him to keep it secret. What I can tell you about the secret is that he has an ability he shouldn’t have, and it makes no earthly iota of sense as to why he has it. For his safety, we are keeping it quiet.” She spoke more strongly as she went. She didn’t see any issue with her secret-keeping. That was mildly infuriating.

Draco groaned and stood up sharply. “If you won’t tell me that secret, then tell me all the others! I don't understand why you insist on keeping things from me!” His face was growing red with anger and frustration. Why wouldn’t she just spill already!?

Rochelle crossed her arms and sat on her hip. “I only keep quiet about the things that aren’t worth knowing about, and the things you're not ready for. And before you go saying you are ready or that I have no place in saying what you are and aren’t ready for, remember your first reaction to your future.” Her eyes were sharp, a blade poised to strike if Draco so much as stepped a toe out of line.

Draco paused and thought for a moment, then went pale. He remembered how Rochelle, at first, told him he would be a Death Eater and be serving You-Know-Who. Draco had begun to freak out, and she had quickly changed the subject away from his grim future. He hadn't noticed at the time, but that was when she started filtering her answers. Careful to ensure he could handle the information well, unlike the knowledge of his future. He swallowed thickly. “So, you're trying to protect me? But what if I told you I wanted to know everything, regardless of whether I could handle it?” His voice was calmer.

In response to his change in tone, Rochelle’s gaze softened. “I’d remind you that you're still a child. I am, too, and I know everything. Every minute detail. The good, the bad, and the ugly, I know. And sometimes, I really wish I didn't. I want to try to protect whoever I can and prevent some of the really bad things from happening. But other times, all I can do is save someone’s dignity or pride.” She paused for a moment, brows crashing together in thought, before she smiled kindly. “How about this? When there is something I don't think I can tell you, and it’s not all that important, I'll hint at it to see if you can handle it. For things I simply can’t tell you, I’ll just say as much. That way, you’ll always know when you don't know something, and you get to pick and choose what you do and don't get to know. For the most part, at least.”

Draco thought for a moment, looking down at the floor. It made sense. He didn’t want to be lied to. So always being told when he can’t know something would make it better. His opinion would matter. He would have more control. So he slowly nodded and looked back at her. “That sounds acceptable. Now for the other topic of my distress. Why does everyone insist on calling us siblings?” He sat back down in his desk chair unceremoniously.

Rochelle chuckled a bit. “Honestly, it just makes things easier to explain our living situation. I wouldn’t mind us being siblings in function and relationship, but I don't actually want to be a Malfoy. Just being a ward is good enough for me.” She walked closer and leaned against the desk backwards, placing her hands on the edge of the wood on either side of her.

Nodding his head, Draco remembered how Mother had expressed her interest in acquiring Rochelle as a proper daughter. “Well, I’m an only child. I don’t need nor want a sister. Refrain from referring to me as such and correct others. That should be enough to satisfy me for now.” Rochelle smiled down at him with that infectious, warm smile of hers, and he had to bite back a small smile of his own. He was still mildly upset. He wanted her to know it. He can’t give in to a jovial atmosphere so quickly.

“You got it, dude. Ix-nay on the brother thing. Yes, sir.” Rochelle gave a playful salute with two fingers and giggled. She then pushed off her place against the desk and made her way to the door. “I’m gonna go give Aether both our letters after I write mine. So no need to update him on how that talk went, I’ll do it.” And with that, she left the room.

Draco froze for a few moments after the door closed. He rethought the whole conversation repeatedly. Did he give in too easily? Did he handle that well? Did he think that through? But all her points were logical. Shifting perspective was smart on her part because Draco definitely would not appreciate his darkest secrets and shame being shared without his permission or knowledge. At least with how strongly she is guarding others' secrets, he knows that his own are safe with her. She’s a stubborn one and definitely won’t be giving information freely if she has decided to keep it locked away.

That thought was a strange comfort. He was told many stories about what to expect in Slytherin when he got to Hogwarts. Having someone with whom he can entrust his secrets is a valuable asset to have. He secretly hopes they will be that for each other and will be housemates.

The following month held few surprises. The first of which was Father allowing Rochelle to keep his pensive while he bought himself a new one. She had moved it to her personal second room, which she called a recreational room or “The Rec Room,” and spent most of her time in there doing who knows what with the pensive. He had seen her bring her Muggle music things in there and hadn’t seen her come out for hours on end. It felt rude to Draco to encroach on the room she had specifically designated for her hobbies and personal time, so he never indulged his curiosity to find out what she was doing.

The second of the surprises was the number of letters he had seen Rochelle exchanging with both Blaise and Harry. While Blaise even paid a visit, Harry never did, much to Draco’s disappointment. Once, Draco had asked her what the correspondence with Harry was. He was met with a filtered, yet mind-numbingly detailed explanation of how Harry was interested in learning about the wizarding world. He would ask about various things, and often, Rochelle wouldn’t answer him. For the life of him, Draco couldn’t figure out why she was keeping so many things from Harry for what Draco saw as no reason. Why not tell him about Hogwarts? Or his family? Or literally anything about what he would actually be experiencing soon?

It wasn’t until the day of Harry’s birthday that Draco decided to ask after Rochelle had received a letter from a very angry Harry. The letter was practically a howler, with the writing seeming so angry. He described how the week before his birthday had been with receiving hundreds of letters with his name on them. How his aunt and uncle had gone into hiding with him to hide from the letters when Hagrid, the gamekeeper at Hogwarts, had picked him up the night it became his birthday. “Why didn’t you ever mention anything about Hogwarts, even when he blatantly asked if there was a magic school?”

Rochelle simply sighed heavily and rubbed her face with one of her hands. “Because that would mess up the bonding experience he has with Hagrid. Those two became close friends. Strange with the age gap and all, but it's an important connection for Harry. It didn’t feel right taking that experience away from either of them.” She looked almost upset when saying this. Draco couldn’t figure out why she was getting upset. He also couldn’t decipher what kind of upset she was becoming. The verdict he came to was a mixture of frustration and sadness. Which was confusing, but he felt that if he were to ask for clarification, he wouldn’t be answered, so he refrained.

He would have to worry about that later, though. Later that day, the family as a whole was going to Diagon to acquire Draco’s school supplies. This was when Rochelle had told Draco he would have a chance encounter with Harry. She didn’t specify when or where, just that it would happen. She must be trying to preserve their experiences together as well. Being on the receiving end, it was kind of nice knowing his experiences were his own to have and not being controlled, manipulated, or stolen. He would have to thank her for refraining from telling him details if the interaction goes well.

Chapter Text

~Rochelle’s POV~

This was going to be tricky. She was wearing robes in public for the first time, so Rochelle was already uncomfortable. She also didn’t have her backpack with her. She did manage to shrink her notebook to keep on her person, and her wand was in the holster on her hip. However, having those things was little comfort when she was trying not to worry about Harry and Draco’s first meeting. She had a list of things she personally wanted to get done on this trip.

The first of which was to go to Gringotts and try to convince the goblins to insist on an inheritance test for Harry when he went in. This would not only let Harry know he was heir to the Potter household, but also possibly clue him in on the fact that he has a godfather. It would also delay his timeline a bit and give Rochelle time to do her own shopping and not mess with Draco’s timeline.

Second, get herself a personal wax seal so she can stop sending letters with stickers. That would either require creating her own seal or doing her own inheritance test at Gringotts to see if she already has one, which is unlikely. It’s something she will have to figure out as she is trying to get it done.

Third, she needs to get a trunk. She had completely forgotten to buy herself a trunk when buying her school supplies, so she would need to do so now. This is despite the fact that she has her backpack, of course, because her magically expanded backpack was an illegal item. She could get away with bringing it with her to school, as the one she will bring to classes, as that was its original intended purpose. However, she has to keep it secret that it has an undetectable expansion charm on it, so she needs to put her things in a normal trunk.

Before the Malfoy family made the Floo journey to Diagon, Rochelle spoke up. “I have business at Gringotts before I can join you in shopping. May I go alone?” She made her best puppy dog eyes at the adults before her. She had gotten a bit used to being allowed to go places alone, yet this time, the two didn't budge.

”Absolutely not.” Lucius said while Narcissa nodded. “This is the first outing you are joining us on. It would be rather uncouth for you to wander in public without one of us. Especially after having introduced you to high society as our ward. You are known. You will be recognized.” He looked at her sternly. His voice was sharp, but not unkind. Over the past two months, Lucius has seemed to accept Rochelle as part of the household. More than just a tool for his benefit, as he had clearly viewed her upon his acceptance of their contract.

Rochelle pouted lightly in response to him, but nodded her head. “Yes, sir. Then, would you be willing to join me?” She looked back at the man. She thought it best that Lucius join her over Narcissa, simply because he seems to care less about her activities. She is worried Narcissa may ask too many questions. To her surprise, Lucius stood taller and lifted his chin a bit before nodding in agreement. With that, Narcissa and Draco Floo’d together to Diagon Alley, while Lucius and Rochelle Floo’d straight to Gringotts.

The unlikely duo stepped into the great, polished white expanse of Gringotts, and Rochelle momentarily paused to take it in. The first time she was here, her mind was still clouded in fog, so she didn't have the chance to take in the building’s splendor. The tall ceiling made Rochelle wonder if the space had its own expansion charm, as she already knew the building had three separate stories, and from the outside, the first story wasn’t this large. There was a long line of desk-booth-things with a goblin manning each one. It looked to be a rather busy morning, as there was only one open space.

Without delay, Rochelle walked up to the open desk with Lucius. With a sharp clearing of the man's throat, she rolled her eyes and adjusted herself to try to emanate the same air that was expected of her at Draco’s birthday. She glanced up at Lucius and managed to catch a slight bit of pride in his eyes. She could only speculate that it was due to her knowing what he wanted from her with just a throat clearing.

With her new act in place, she continued to the desk and smiled warmly at the goblin. “Hello. I have a rather strange request. Would you possibly be able to get the one in charge for me to speak to? If possible, I’d like to speak in private.” Rochelle did her best to treat the goblin with respect, unlike how most wixen are known to treat them. Especially pure bloods.

The goblin glared and grumbled, his lips slipping into a snarl. After a moment of brambles, the goblin got down from his high seat and walked off, presumably to get the one in charge. When he emerged again, about 5 minutes later, he said, “Burgock will lead you.” Just as Rochelle thanked the goblin and began to move, he spoke again. “Just the witch. You stay here, Mr. Malfoy.” Great. He knew Lucius.

The posh and annoyed-looking wizard looked as though he was about to kick up a fuss, so Rochelle took a step forward to grab their attention. “It makes sense, sir. I asked for a private audience. One would expect that to mean a one-on-one meeting. I’ll be alright. I have been here before on my own and made it out alive.” She smiled at him, and after a beat, he relented with a curt nod and settled himself in to stand where he was and wait. She then turned back to Burgock. “Thank you for waiting. Please lead the way, Mr. Burgock.” She made sure to smile the whole time.

Burgock seemed to be thrown off by the kindness, but he collected himself quickly and began leading the way behind the desks and down a hallway. It was a bit of a long walk, but eventually she was led into one of the doors. Upon entering, she noticed that it was a fancy-looking office. Nobody was inside, so she slowly took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk while Burgock left.

She was alone in the room for mere moments as the door then opened again. Rochelle shot up from her seat to greet the goblin while standing, since that's what was respectful. At least in the human world. She turned and saw an older goblin, but he walked strongly, like age didn’t matter to him. He didn’t even spare her a glance as he walked in and behind the desk before sitting back down, which allowed Rochelle to reclaim her own seat.

For about a minute more, the room was quiet. The goblin just wrote on a piece of parchment, not even introducing himself. That kinda ticked Rochelle off. She knew goblins didn’t exactly respect wixen, and she was prepared to deal with that. But not even introducing yourself? That was annoying. But she kept it in. She needed whatever bit of respect she could get. Apparently, her restraint held water as he noticed her impatience and looked at her.

He placed his quill down and laced his fingers together on the desk in front of him. “My name is Dodgurnag. I am the branch manager for the Gringotts in Diagon Alley. How can I be of assistance to you, miss…” he gestured his hand forward, prompting her to introduce herself.

”Rochelle McCullen, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you. My request is rather strange, I’m afraid. Is it possible for you to insist on an inheritance test for Harry Potter when he stops by here later today? He should be coming in with Rubeus Hagrid. It is my understanding that Harry does not know what he received in inheritance. So his vaults, his money, and his properties will more than likely remain untouched. Not including his trust vault, he plans to visit today to get money for school shopping.” She tried her best to make it appear in the goblin's best interest. If money isn’t being used, that means there is less money for them. And everyone knows goblins love money.

Dodgurnag looked at the girl before him with intrigue. That could be for any number of reasons, so Rochelle refrained from making any assumptions. His mouth curved into a toothy grin, which Rochelle took as a friendly sign. “Now, why is Harry Potter’s account of interest to you, Miss McCullen?” Goblins sure were hard to read. His tone of voice appeared friendly, but it had an edge to it that made the girl nervous.

Despite her nerves, Rochelle kept smiling kindly as she responded. “You see, he is a friend of mine, whom I met over the summer. I was aghast to discover he knew nothing of magic or where he came from. I’ve tried to explain all I can, but we didn’t touch on his family or wealth.” She sighed and looked down, trying for a look of pity. “Just thinking about how he probably doesn’t know how wizarding currency works and other basics just makes me so sad. He will need someone to manage his accounts for sure, as he is only 11, like me. But how can he know what he has or that he even needs an account manager if he doesn’t have an inheritance test done?” She looked at Dodgurnag meaningfully while searching his body language for any sign that he would fulfill her request.

The goblin nodded his head solemnly. “Yes, a pity indeed for so much wealth to go to waste. As this is of interest to us here at Gringotts, I will personally see to Mr. Potter’s inheritance test. Is there anything else I may assist you with?” His voice was sincere as he spoke, yet the last question seemed to burn rotten on his tongue. Clearly, he didn’t actually want to help her with anything else. Too bad for him.

Rochelle smiled a bit brighter. “Thank you ever so kindly, Mr. Dodgurnag. There is one other thing. I’m unsure how to go about getting my own wax seal with a personal crest. Would I need to get a test done myself to see if I already have one? Or do I just go somewhere to have one designed for me?”

Dodgurnag nodded his head and withdrew a piece of parchment from the stack on his desk. “When you came to us two months ago to withdraw money, you already performed the inheritance test and were led to a vault left by one of your ancestors, Isolt Sayre. The vault belonged to her when she was living here before she moved to America. In her will, it stated that the only heirs to her vault were women descendants of her family. There has been a manager in charge of increasing the wealth for generations.” He handed the parchment to Rochelle over the desk. “The crest you inherited was hers. If you wish to alter it to be personal to you, you are free to do so with a craftsman. However, since this crest has been out of use for hundreds of years, you are free to use it as your own.”

Rochelle took the parchment and looked it over. It was the result of her inheritance test. She doesn’t remember taking one, yet here it was. But wait, didn’t she witness herself drop some blood on a parchment when she was here last? Wasn’t that just to verify her identity? Well, an inheritance test would definitely verify her identity. She studied the crest closely. There were two. One just looked like a personalized version of the other. Which meant the simpler one belonged to the family. “Is this the Sayre family crest? Or the Gaunt family crest?” She asked without thinking or looking up from the page.

After a beat, Dodgurnag answered. “That is the Sayre crest. Do you require the Gaunt one?” That made her look up and meet his eyes. He was studying her closely.

She simply smiled at him and nodded her head. “I’ve known I was a distant descendant of the Gaunts for a good majority of my life. It’s a point of pride for me. If I am allowed to make my personal crest a combination of the Sayre family and the Gaunt family. Or even just create a new family crest with the combined two. Then I would very much like to do so.”  The goblin smiled at her. Which was off-putting. And reached into his desk drawer. With a snap of his fingers, he retrieved another piece of parchment. A small one, simply with the Gaunt family crest on it.

”Your identity and claim on this crest have already been verified, so do with it as you see fit.” He hands it over, and Rochelle inspects it. The Gaunt family crest was very different from the Sayre one. While the Sayre crest had a black shield with a red eagle, the Gaunt crest had a scaly green shield with a black X across it and interwoven white snakes. The Gaunt crest had no motto, but the Sayre crest said “Nobilitas Animi,” Latin for “nobility of mind.” Combining these two crests into a singular one for her own family will be difficult on its own, but then having a personal one? She would have to find a craftsman who specializes in these things.

Rochelle then stood from her seat with the two pages and nodded to Dodgurnag respectfully. “Thank you. That was all I needed. I’m afraid I’m unaware of the proper greetings and farewells used in goblin society, so please forgive me for my rudeness.” She bowed gently. “I shall take my leave then. Again, your assistance is greatly appreciated.” The goblin looked surprised when she met his eyes again.

Dodgurnag stood up and came to the front of the desk. He then placed one hand in front of his stomach and bowed slightly as he said, “May your gold be ever plentiful.” He raised his gaze with as close to a warm smile as Rochelle thinks the goblin can make. “That is a very common and respectful greeting we goblins use. It may change to fit the personality or circumstances one finds themselves in. It pleases me to see a young witch interested in showing us such respect.”

Ah, so this is another one of those things that comes from fan fiction. She's read those types of greetings in some fics she's read. It’s safe to say that researching goblin culture in the future would be to her benefit if they truly function the way she has read. She smiled brightly and placed a hand in front of her stomach, mimicking the goblin, and bowed again. “May your gold be ever plentiful, Mr. Dodgurnag.” She lifted from her bow. “And thank you for being willing to teach me the proper respect to pay you and other goblins.” With another strange smile from Dodgurnag, Rochelle walked back to the main hall of Gringotts with the two pages she was given in hand.

She walked up to Lucius with a smile and said, “My business here is complete. Shall we rejoin Draco and Lady Malfoy?”

Lucius eyed her up and down, seeming to take note of the parchment in one of her hands. “Yes, we shall. This way, Rochelle.” He then spun on his heel and led the way out of the bank. It didn’t take long to rejoin the others as they weren’t far from the bank. They happened to be on their way to Madam Malkin’s. Perfect timing.

The whole family walked to the entrance of the shop together, but once there, Lucius and Narcissa dismissed themselves. “Lucius will fetch Draco’s books, and I will see about his potion supplies. I trust you two can handle getting the uniform on your own?” Narcissa said.

The two of them nodded their heads while Draco said, “Yes, Mother.”

“Excellent. We will come to pick you up when we are done. Behave yourselves.” Lucius said before the two of them walked off in opposite directions.

Draco turned to look at Rochelle. “Let’s head in. I am sure they will have a chair for you to wait in while they see to my sizing.” With a smile and a nod from the girl, the two entered the shop.

Once they entered, Draco was ushered to a footstool towards the back of the shop. They tried to do the same for Rochelle, but she explained they were only here for Draco, so she wouldn’t need anything. She took a seat near the front of the shop within line of sight of Draco for a few moments.

He was being rather picky, which was expected. And perfect to give Harry time to make it there. Rochelle stood from her seat and filled her time by browsing the various clothes on display near the front of the shop. Time crept by, but almost the exact moment she was about to sit back down in her seat after about 20 minutes of browsing, the door opened and little Harry walked in.

Rochelle looked up and instantly beamed brighter upon seeing him. But the smile was quickly wiped from her face when their eyes met, and Harry’s were filled with fury. “Oh shit.” She muttered under her breath. She raised her hands in surrender as he stomped closer to her. “Harry, I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry!”

”You’ve got a lot of explaining to do!” Harry practically yelled, earning the attention of everyone in the shop, including Draco. “How could you have kept Hogwarts from me? You said you would answer all my questions, yet you kept it from me!” He clenched his fists at his sides, standing only a foot away from the girl.

”I know! I’m sorry!” She then took a half step back and lowered her voice so she was no longer yelling. “I didn’t want to ruin your first experience with Hagrid. He was supposed to tell you about Hogwarts. If I told you, that would ruin it for you.” She looked down sadly, guiltily. She knew he would be upset, but she didn’t know he would be this mad.

Harry stood there, controlling his breath as he appeared to think her answer over in his mind. “Right. You can see the future or some rot. So you knew Hagrid would come and get me. And what, you wanted to make sure I met him?” He looked confused. “Hagrid is brilliant, and he seems like a good friend, but is he really important to my future?”

Rochelle shrugged her shoulders and refused to meet his eyes. “Well, not really. I just didn’t want to ruin your friendship with him. That’s all. It didn’t seem right. I plan on staying out of your friendships. It’s not my job to interfere with who you form connections with.”

There was a long pause from both of them before Harry just sighed. “I understand. I’m still upset, but I understand.” This earned him a smile from the girl. “So what are you doing here? I thought you had already gone school shopping. Once I heard about Hogwarts, I figured that was the boarding school you’re in the UK to attend. And you have your wand, so I figured you went shopping already.”

Rochelle nodded. “Right you are, my dude. I’m just accompanying Draco and his parents to get his things. I thought I’d fill my time browsing robes while I waited for them to finish what they were doing.” She intentionally worded it in a way that left the assumptions open to mean they may not be in the shop. She didn’t want Harry to know it was Draco he was about to meet unless Draco introduced himself first.

Harry nodded and smiled a bit at her. “That sounds fun. I’m here to get my uniform.”

The girl chuckled a bit. “Well, yeah, of course you are. This is Madam Malkin’s, after all. Just head over to one of the women in the back, and they should be able to help you. The one in mauve is Madam Malkin herself. She's very sweet, if a bit sharp. Another student is getting fitted, so just head over to where he is.” She smiled at him, and after a moment, she took a full step forward and hugged him. “It’s good to see you, Harry. Happy Birthday.”

The boy was startled by the hug, but returned it nonetheless. “Thanks. Good seeing you, too.” When the two of them parted and Harry turned to leave, he paused and looked back at her. “Hagrid said we get to school on a train. Would you… Uhm…” he hesitated.

Rochelle smiled brightly at him. “I’ll find you. Don’t worry. I’ll probably be sitting with Draco and Blaise, but I’ll find you and say hi anyway.” Harry beamed back at her and nodded before running to the back of the shop. She watched him talk to Madam Malkin and step on a footstool next to Draco. The girl took her seat to watch the scene from afar.

She wasn't quite close enough to hear their conversation, but she vaguely remembers a charm that exists that amplifies hearing. So, she pulled out her notebook, unshrunk it, and began flipping through it. Once she found the hearing amplifying charm, she smiled and quickly cast it. “Clarisonus,” she whispered, trying to be covert in her eavesdropping.

It didn't take long for her to notice the effects of the charm as she heard Draco’s voice saying, “Hello. Hogwarts, too?” He sounded nervous. He must recognize Harry from the memory he saw of Rochelle’s. And even if he didn't, she had clearly called him Harry loud enough for the shop to hear.

Harry’s response was short and quiet. “Yes.”

Draco responded with a slow and a bit winded response. “My father’s next door buying my books, and my mother’s buying potions equipment. Then we are off to buy my wand before I try to drag them off to look at the new brooms.” In the book, Rochelle remembered Draco had mentioned he was going to bully his father into buying him a broom and was going to try to smuggle it into the school before asking if Harry owned a broom. Instead, this time, he asked, “Have you ever flown before?”

Harry looked a bit uncomfortable and seemed to think about his answer when Draco added on. “It’s alright if you haven’t. Most children our age haven’t. They offer flying lessons at Hogwarts because of that.” He stole a glance in Rochelle’s direction. She beamed at him and gave a thumbs-up. Reassuring that it was alright for a negative answer was perfect! Where had Draco picked that up? He must have done his own studying in ways not to offend Harry.

Harry seemed to visibly relax at that. “No, I haven’t. I’m interested, though.” Rochelle couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

Draco looked back at Harry and gave a small smile of his own. “Interested in Quidditch too?” Harry didn’t say anything, but slowly nodded. Rochelle remembered Harry didn't know what Quidditch was and mentally facepalmed. “Me too. I play with my friends at home. Father says it would be a crime if I were not picked for my house team. Know what house you’ll be in yet?”

”No.” Harry said, sounding a bit more reserved than before. His body language also showed him closing off. Looking away from the blonde boy.

Draco’s brows crashed together, but he tentatively continued. “To be fair, nobody truly knows what they will get, but everyone has their hopes. I’m a bit lucky, though. I have a friend who is a seer. She told me I’ll be in Slytherin.” That caused Harry to whip over to Rochelle, who quickly hid the fact that she was watching by looking down at her open notebook. Damn it! Why did Draco bring her up!?

She then heard Harry’s voice again. “A seer friend? Is it that girl by the door?” Rochelle burned a hole in her notebook with her eyes, refusing to look up.

“That’s right,” Draco said, sounding a bit proud.

Harry chuckled a bit, and Rochelle stole a glance back at them, thankful neither of them was looking at her. “What a coincidence. She is my friend too. Though she didn’t tell me anything about Hogwarts or houses, or even Quidditch.” His voice sounded a bit bitter at the end.

Draco’s eyes went wide. “She didn’t tell you about Quidditch!? Merlin’s beard.” He groaned while rubbing his face. “She’s bloody mental, that one.”

Harry laughed, leaning over a bit as his shoulders bounced. “I’m beginning to see that, yeah. So, what’s your name? She mentioned a couple of her friends to me in passing.” He put out a hand for Draco to shake, but it was quickly swatted away by the woman working on his robe with a quick instruction to stay still.

Draco smiled at him. “Draco Malfoy. I’d offer my hand in return, but I quite value it.” The two shared a small laugh at that.

”So you’re from the family who agreed to be her guardian while she's in the UK? That was awfully kind of your parents. They must be good people.” Harry’s voice was thoughtful. Rochelle knew he had to be connecting some dots. She had only told him that Draco was the child of the family that took her in. She also explained who all the major pure blood families were, so he had to know who the Malfoys were and a brief summary of their recent history.

Draco shrank a bit before puffing his chest and lifting his chin. “I believe they are. Some may believe differently, but I’m proud of where I come from.” Rochelle was actually proud of how well she did in teaching him to be humble in their everyday conversations. She didn't know how well her brief mentions of the virtue of being humble had sunk in, but it was definitely enough to allow Draco to show his pride while not coming across as a prat.

Harry nodded slowly, and the two fell silent for a few moments. Draco then cleared his throat and continued. “So, who’s with you for shopping?”

Harry looked back at him with what sounded like a smile in his voice. “Oh, his name is Hagrid. He’s the gamekeeper at Hogwarts.” He glanced over at the window. “Oh, look! There he is!” And sure enough, Hagrid stood outside the window with an ice cream in each hand.

Draco looked over and seemed to study the man. “He’s rather large. I believe I’ve heard he is a half giant, is that right?” He looked back at Harry.

”Yeah, and what of it?” Harry’s voice hardened. He clearly expected Draco to say something negative about Hagrid. But Rochelle made sure to drill in that Harry would not like that kind of talk, so she was sure that even if Draco didn’t agree with it, he would make an effort not to put down Harry’s friend.

”Nothing.” Draco said. “Just curious. My father told me stories about him. He lives in a hut on school grounds, and every now and then, he gets drunk. He tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed.” He tilted his head as he studied Hagrid more. “He doesn’t seem like a drunkard who’s reckless with magic. A bit scruffy and unkempt, but not nearly what Father described.” He smiled softly. “He has kind eyes.” He said so gently, as if admitting a quiet secret only meant to be heard by himself.

Harry must have heard him, though, because he just looked at Draco with a bit of shock. Just then, Madam Malkin dismissed Harry. “Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” Draco said with a smile. Harry smiled back and nodded, getting down from the footstool.

Rochelle watched Harry pay for his robe and uniform before walking back to the door. He waved to her and happily said, “Bye! See you on the train!”

She returned the wave. “Bye! Enjoy the rest of your school shopping! See you on the train!” And Harry left the store, walking right up to Hagrid and taking one of the ice creams from the half giant’s hand. Rochelle then got up, put her now shrunken notebook back in her pocket, and ran up to an approaching Draco who had been dismissed. “I think that went well!” She beamed at him.

He didn't beam back. He crossed his arms and looked at her with disappointment. “You tell me he is the youngest seeker in a century, and you failed to even tell him what Quidditch is!? Have you gone mad!?” Rochelle just laughed and forced his arms to uncross.

”Oh, don't be like that! Things are going great! Just like in the book, you mention Quidditch to him, and he is probably asking Hagrid what it is right now!” She tugged his arm to the counter to pay. “Now, quit moping. Tell me your thoughts!”

After paying, the two walked back onto the cobbled sidewalks of the alley and talked about the encounter while they waited for Lucius and Narcissa. Once they arrived, the whole group went to get Draco’s wand.

A thought occurred to Rochelle once Draco had gotten his wand, and Narcissa reminded him of the Trace. She would have to tell Harry about it so he doesn’t go trying to cast spells at home. But wait. She has been casting spells since she got her wand, and she hasn't been arrested for underage magic. Why has the Trace never worked on her?

Chapter Text

The last month for Rochelle went well. The Daily Prophet ended up writing an article about her with an interview from Dumbledore. He spoke on how she is a new type of seer being studied called a Reader, that she will be attending Hogwarts, and that she is American.

He conveniently left out that she is being graciously housed by the Malfoys. He must not want anything that may make the family look good to the public. The meddling asshat.

She spent her time preparing for school with spells she wanted to create out of convenience. She was also still exchanging letters with Harry. She even was able to meet Hedwig, who got along with Aether swimmingly. It would seem the two were becoming fast friends.

Now that Harry knew about Hogwarts and Quidditch, they were all he was asking about. He even asked her what house he would get into, but she could only respond in a way that wouldn’t influence his choice.

“You have to wait for the sorting. I only told Draco about his house because of how his sorting will go. His sorting practically ends before it begins when it decided on Slytherin. There was no other place for him to go. You aren’t as cut and dry as that. I’m not gonna put you in a box.”

He didn’t like that. It seemed that both he and Draco were the same in their need to know everything. Not that she minded, really.

He did share that Gringotts practically forced him into an inheritance test. He was all too happy to find out that he was an Heir to a wealthy family and was actually wearing his Heir ring when they had seen each other at Madam Malkin’s.

He also shared that he has a godfather who was his legal guardian, despite being in prison. That struck him as odd, and he asked her about it, having assumed at this point that she knows everything. She replied that she knew about that already and she would handle it. He doesn’t need to worry and should just try to enjoy his school experience. He, again, didn’t like that, but Rochelle is as stubborn as an ox and wouldn’t budge.

It was now September 1st, the day they boarded the Hogwarts Express. The day Rochelle had to make sure was perfect. So she donned her backpack with all of her prepared letters and needed supplies, sheathed her wand in its holster, and grabbed her trunk with all her things to make the journey to the station. Her free hand held Aether in her cage.

The Malfoys and Rochelle arrived at King's Cross Station early, before the place was flooded with Muggles. The young girl just followed behind the adults and Draco as they led the way swiftly through the station and to the wall between platforms 9 and 10. Without hesitation, all of the Malfoys ran through the barrier with Rochelle following close behind.

There should be a Floo or something so they didn’t have to risk all these wixen walking in a Muggle area. But no, that would make too much sense for the wonderful world of magic. Not the most innovative species, are they?

She closed her eyes tightly, and despite knowing it wasn’t a wall, she still braced for impact. When none came, she opened her eyes and gasped silently at the sight before her. The train was huge, painted red with gold. It was amazing.

Sure, she knew what this scene looked like, but experiencing it, feeling the vibe of the platform. This was on another level of “wow.” The magic of the surrounding area hummed in the air, causing a warm, buzzing sensation to skidder across her skin.

She couldn’t stand and gawk for long as Draco called out. “Rochelle, hurry up!” This spurred a jog out of the girl to catch up. The goodbyes were brief, and the pair of children boarded the train, picking one of the many empty compartments. It wasn’t long after they took their seats that Blaise entered to join them, along with Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle. Much to Rochelle’s annoyance.

The compartment was rather full with six children. Blaise and Draco were on either side of Rochelle, with Nott across from her and the other two on his sides. The conversations varied, but Blaise and Rochelle primarily kept to themselves with the occasional input from Draco. Time flew by as the train soon began to move slowly.

It was a few hours before Neville Longbottom knocked on the compartment door and opened it. “Have any of you seen Trevor?” He asked with a concerned tone and a frantic expression. Everyone in the compartment shook their heads. “Well, if you see him, please let me know.” He was about to leave when Rochelle stood up.

”I’ll help you look, Neville.” She walked up to him at the door with a smile. “We never properly met, but I remember you from Draco’s birthday party. I’m Rochelle McCullen. Trevor is a toad, right?” All the boys looked at her, confused.

All but Draco and Blaise, of course. Not because they knew what she was thinking or doing, but because knowing things she shouldn’t is turning into a norm for them. Hence why they aren’t shocked she knew Trevor was a toad.

With a confused nod from Neville, she turned back to her two friends and said, “That’s my cue. I’ll see you later!” And promptly followed Neville out of the compartment, closing the door behind her.

Neville scratched the back of his head and looked at her nervously before speaking softly. “T-thanks for helping. It’s nice to meet you.”

Rochelle turned and smiled at him brightly. “Ditto! Same here! I’ll run to that end of the train, and we can tackle it in a pincer move. One of us has to see him that way.” She pointed to the end of the train that was the direction the boy had been going in before.

He nodded his head, as if what she just said made any semblance of sense to him. “Another girl offered to help as well, so now there are three in the search party.”

”Right. Perfect! Let’s get started!” She then ran down the train, looking into each compartment for Ron and Harry. When she found them, she continued on and quickly cast Clarisonus to listen in on their compartment, preparing to enter at just the right time.

She heard in the distance, Neville saying in each compartment the same phrase, “Sorry, but have you seen a toad at all?” Eventually, he said it, didn’t receive a response verbally, and followed up with, “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!” Said in frustration.

A familiar voice responded with a polite, “He’ll turn up.” That was Harry.

As quickly as she could, she cast the main spell she had worked on practically nonstop for the past month. “Lente Accio, Trevor the toad.” She developed a spell that slowed the effect of Accio, which made it safe to use on living things. Eventually, wherever Trevor was on the train, he would find his way into Rochelle’s hand at a speed that shouldn’t harm him.

She heard Neville excuse himself and strained her ears to try and hear Harry and Ron’s conversation through the compartment door, but to no avail. Luckily, Trevor floated gently into her hand at that moment, and she beamed at the slimy little thing. She looked up and saw Neville closer to her, so she jogged up to him. “Neville! I’ve got him!”

Neville’s head whipped up, and he smiled. “Trevor!” He exclaimed, rushing forward and grabbing the toad. “How did you find him?” He said with astonishment, looking up at Rochelle.

She simply smiled and decided to skip past the question. “I’ll find the other girl helping you and tell her the search is off. Don’t let him go again, ya hear?” She happily walked past Neville toward Harry and Ron, ignoring Neville’s continued quiet thanks as he retreated away from her.

She heard a girl's voice saying, “Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.” That must be Hermione. She indeed did have a bossy voice, much like Emma Watson’s portrayal of Hermione.

When Rochelle searched, she saw bushy brown hair that went a tad past her shoulders, as expected. What she was pleasantly surprised by was the glowing, dark skin Hermione had.

Rochelle smiled as she pulled her notebook out of her backpack with a pen and opened it to the list of tropes she had written at Draco’s party. She checked off “Hermione is black” before placing her things back in her bag and closing it.

That was a common theme in a lot of the HP fics she has read. Along with Harry being mixed-race. Harry was very pale, but that could be due to not being allowed outside enough to have a tan.

It was too hard to tell right now if he was mixed or not, despite some features like his nose hinting at a not totally white lineage. Hermione though? That was a very pleasant surprise indeed.

She began to walk closer as she heard Hermione say, “Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.” And entered the compartment. 

She just got to the compartment door when she heard a boy, who must be Ron, say the short chant of the fake spell. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.”

This caused Rochelle to laugh a bit too hard. Can anyone blame her, though? Ron just called Pettigrew stupid and fat. How could she not find that funny?

This earned her the attention of all three of the compartment occupants. Ron spoke first with an angry, “Oi! What are you laughing at?”

Rochelle bit her lips to try to suppress her laugh, but failed and just giggled. “Nothing, it’s nothing. It’s just. He is a stupid and fat rat. A truer statement has never been said.”

Holding her laugh grew harder as she saw everyone’s confused expressions. She took a shaky breath and looked at Hermione. “Neville found Trevor, so the search is off. Thanks for helping him.”

Hermione blinked rapidly, “Oh. Yes, well. Happy to help.” Rochelle then walked in and plopped herself right next to Harry, who promptly beamed at her.

The look in his eyes seemed relieved, which caused Rochelle to raise an eyebrow at him. “What? Didn’t think I'd keep my promise? I said I’d find you.” She gently pushed his shoulder with her fist playfully.

Harry giggled and shook his head. “Nah, I just didn’t know when you would show.”

Ron was looking between the two and cleared his throat. “Er, who are you? Friend of Harry’s, I’m guessing? What’s with that accent? Where are you from?” His voice sounded offended and sharp. Almost jealous.

Rochelle looked at him and was about to speak when Harry spoke for her. “Yeah, that's right. This is Rochelle McCullen. She’s American.” She snapped her gaze back at Harry. He sounded defensive. Was Harry defensive? Of her? She put her hand on her chest over her heart. That was so sweet of him!

Hermione gasped, looking at Harry’s forehead, and must have seen a glimpse of his scar. “Harry as in Harry Potter? I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books for background reading. You're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.” She looked at Rochelle. “And I read about you in The Daily Prophet. You’re the new seer, right? A Reader?”

Rochelle simply nodded while Harry just looked dazed and said, “I am?” Rochelle closed her eyes and prepared herself for Hermione’s dialogue. She had to continuously remind herself that Hermione isn’t as bad as her first impression implies. She may seem stuck-up and bossy, but she was a good person.

”Goodness, didn’t you know? I’d have found out everything I could if it were me. Do any of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around, and I hope I’m in Gryffindor. It sounds by far the best. I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad.” She gasped before she continued. “Where are my manners? I’m-“ 

”Hermione Granger, nice to meet you!” Rochelle cut her off, as she can’t resist. She opened her eyes and beamed at the girl, ignoring the looks she was getting.

Hermione looked stunned for a moment. “How did-“ She was cut off yet again by a different voice.

”She does that. Bloody interesting to watch her mind work out who everyone is.” Said Blaise, standing at the open compartment door with his arms crossed. A smirk adorning his lips as he eyed Rochelle with intrigue.

”Interesting? I’m fairly sure you’re the only one who thinks that, Zabini.” Said Draco, who was standing next to him. He then looked into the compartment and smiled, eyes snapping right to Harry. “The whole train is saying Harry Potter is in this compartment. I hadn’t caught your name before, but is that you?”

Harry smiled back at Draco. “Yeah, sorry, I didn't introduce myself.”

Draco shook his head and looked at the others in the compartment as he spoke. “It’s plenty alright, Potter. And you,-“ said to Hermione “-I heard Rochelle call you Granger.” His voice was less soft when addressing Hermione than when he was talking to Harry. It wasn’t unkind, just unfriendly.

He then looked at Ron and squinted his eyes. “Red hair, freckles, you must be a Weasley, but I’m unsure which one. There are so many of you around, it’s admittedly difficult to keep track.” He had a ghost of a teasing smirk creeping its way onto his lips. Rochelle mentally implored him to behave and not mess anything up.

Ron frowned. “Well, who are you then?” His voice held a stronger defensive vitriol than before.

Draco frowned right back, but glanced at Rochelle and caught her stern expression. Her eyes were hard, widening ever so slightly as her lips tightened her smile, causing them to nearly disappear into a thin line. This caused his grumpy look to deflate instantly. He took a breath, subtly shaking his head, and stood straighter. “Where are my manners? This is Blaise Zabini, my name is Draco Malfoy.”

Predictably, Ron coughed to hide a snicker, which caused Draco to flare in anger. His brow instantly scrunching, along with his nose as his lips pursed together briefly before he opened his mouth. Rochelle stepped in before Draco could ruin his, so far, good first impression. “Was that a poorly disguised snicker I heard? What, did you think his name was funny? I know you have no room to talk, Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley.”

The whole compartment went silent for a moment before Blaise burst out laughing, clutching his stomach as he nearly doubled over from the force. He braced himself on the door frame of the compartment and heaved out his words. “Rochelle! You did not just full name him! Oh bloody Merlin, that's gorgeous!” He kept laughing while Ron’s face grew redder and redder with every passing moment.

Rochelle sighed and looked at Blaise, rolling her eyes in annoyance. She stopped smiling and sighed, shaking her head as she spoke. “Stop laughing, Blaise. It wasn’t that funny. He sure didn’t get lucky with a middle name like Bilius, but that’s no reason to actually laugh at him.” Blaise took deep, wheezing breaths to try and stop laughing while Ron looked angrier, if that was even possible.

”I haven't got a clue how you know that, and right now I don’t care. But why are you, someone who is Harry’s friend, standing up for Malfoy?” Ron said Draco’s name with a disgusted sneer, like it was a slur. An insult just to be called a Malfoy. A light buzzing of anger occurred behind Rochelle’s eyes. She had gotten quite attached to the Malfoys in the past 4 months, and didn’t take kindly to Ron’s tone.

Harry frowned at the redheaded little jerk. “I guess you didn't notice they’re clearly familiar with each other. And me, for that matter. They’re friends, of course. And the Malfoys are Rochelle’s guardians while she is here in the UK.” He looked a bit shocked and confused at Ron's reaction.

Both Ron and Hermione yelled in unison. “They’re what!?”

Rochelle looked at the two of them with a slight, knowing smirk. “Yeah, Old Dumbledore failed to mention that in his little interview.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s the reason I was able to have an official contract so quickly. Kinda rude for him to leave out that they can be good people.”

After a beat, Blaise clapped his hands once. “Well, on that note. Draco and I just came to fetch Rochelle. We will be arriving soon, and we all need to change into our robes. You all should do the same.”

Rochelle stood up and looked down at Harry. “See you at the sorting!” She said quickly and left the compartment, following Draco and Blaise. As she was leaving, she heard Hermione excuse herself, and the conversation between Ron and Harry continued.

Here’s hoping Ron does a good job being a snob and putting down Slytherin house enough to steer Harry toward Gryffindor.

On the way back to their compartment, Draco leaned close to Rochelle and whispered. “How did I do?” He looked at her hopefully, eyes wide and a pleased smile poking his expression.

She smiled at him warmly and whispered back. “Wonderfully. Maybe even better than Ron did. Let’s just hope you didn't do so well that Harry and Ron don't become friends.”

As she walked a bit further than Draco, she could hear him say, “Harry and that weasel become friends!?”

Soon, the train stopped and everyone got off. Hagrid, with his big booming voice and lantern leading the way, called out, “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” And a group of students, including Rochelle and co., all filed to the gentle giant.

He looked over the sea of heads and smiled brightly. “All right there, Harry?” Way to bring attention to him when he definitely doesn’t want it. “C’mon, follow me! Any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years follow me!”

As Rochelle followed the crowd, her backpack as a whole shrunken into one pocket with her notebook not shrunk in her hands with her wand tight in its holster, she allowed herself to take in Hogsmeade Station.

It looked identical to what she had seen in the video game Hogwarts Legacy. Small buildings on either side of the track with large stone bridges arching over the Express. There were locals greeting the students and a few cats graced the children with their regal presence.

A moment of realization struck Rochelle like the truck that had killed her, and she allowed herself to let out a loud groan at what the setting similarities meant for the rest of Hogwarts. “Ugh! So much walking!”

She got some strange stares from those around her, and Blaise just elbowed her as he chuckled. “We just started walking. What makes you say that?” Draco came up on her other side to see her response.

Rochelle walked lazily, dragging her feet and hunching over dramatically while groaning. “I just know it’s going to take us at least 8 to 10 minutes to get down to the docks. Then we have to ride boats to the boathouse, which will take who knows how long, depending on how many boats are available when there are only 4 students on a boat.

Then we have to walk up all those stairs to get to the courtyard. Then we have to get to the great hall, which honestly isn’t that bad from the courtyard in comparison. But this is going to take a total of around 45 minutes, maybe more. I’d rather take the thestral carriages and forgo the whole ‘first years get to Hogwarts via boat’ thing.” She whined the entire monologue of an explanation.

The two boys froze momentarily before they just laughed at her misery. Snickering and seemingly making an effort to conceal it, but failing miserably.

“I’m not sure what you mean by thestral carriages, but I’m going out on a limb and saying all of that information isn’t in the books?” Draco said while leaning in so only the other two could hear. He had gotten quite good at picking up what was and what wasn't in the original books, despite not knowing the full truth.

Blaise was brought in on the supposed secret of how her ability worked, so he understood what Draco meant, to some degree at least. He seemed to understand less of the intricacies and more of the fact this information just lives in her brain rent free. He found it fascinating and often asked for her to keep talking as if it was the juiciest gossip he had ever heard.

Rochelle reluctantly stopped being dramatic and began walking normally, but still let out a big sigh before she responded. “Not in so much detail, no. But the thestral carriages are, though they’re only mentioned in detail in book 5.

Basically, there are these carriages that look like they pull themselves that the upper years take to the castle. The thing is, they’re not pulling themselves. They’re being pulled by these invisible creatures called thestrals.

They kinda look like this strange combination of a lizard and a horse with bat wings, and they’re wicked skinny. They’re super gentle and docile creatures, but you can only see them if you’ve witnessed and accepted death.

But you do need both of those. You can’t have one without the other. So if you watched someone die but weren’t able to process and accept the death at the time it happened, you can’t see them, and vice versa.”

She took a glance at the two boys who were giving her strange looks from her long-winded explanation. “What?”

They both shook their heads, and Draco made a disgusted face. Blaise simply kept softly laughing at her. “You truly are strange and interesting. You know the oddest information. Please tell me more!”

And the rest of the walk down the stairs was filled with Blaise asking Rochelle about these strange, invisible creatures, clearly thinking they weren’t real.

He knew she didn’t make a habit of lying or telling stories, but invisible lizard-horse-bats that you can only see if you've witnessed and accepted death, did sound a bit too unbelievable, even for the wixen world.

The walk was exactly like the game. They first walked from the station down many, many, too many steps, to the intersection of a cobblestone path. The group turned to the left and crossed a large stone bridge. Their way was lit only by moonlight and Hagrid’s lamp.

On the other side of the bridge, there were two lamp posts on either side of the path that led to a large iron gate. The older students were boarding horseless carriages, and Rochelle pointed at them and beamed at Blaise and Draco. “See! Those are the carriages I was talking about!”

She then discreetly went into her pocket and pulled out her shrunken backpack as they got closer. She accio’d some meat she had brought just for the thestrals in hopes of meeting them, unshrunk the container, and opened it.

“Why in Merlin’s name do you have raw meat?” Draco said, exasperated by her antics already.

Rochelle just shushed him, handed him her notebook, and once the group of first years got close to the horseless carriage, she held out one of the two pieces of raw meat in each hand and stood far in front of the carriage.

Blaise and Draco trailed behind the group a bit and watched her. After a few moments, something invisible, two something’s actually, picked up the meat and seemed to eat what was presented.

Rochelle beamed and whispered, “I’ll try to find you in the forest, even if I can’t see you,” and reached up. The thestrals seemed to lean into her touch as her hands pet the air. With a glance back at her friends, she quickly left the invisible creatures and rejoined her friends.

Draco was stunned speechless and had to be practically dragged to follow the group while Rochelle took her notebook back and put the container back into her backpack. Blaise kept bombarding her with questions, now fully believing they were real, having just watched literal air eat raw meat.

They continued their journey, and they could hear Hagrid in the distance say, “Ye’ all get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec, jus’ round this bend here.” And that they did. Off in the distance, there was a silhouette of a tall and spiky castle.

Their walk continued, and they were led off the cobbled path after a long while on it. They had to squeeze onto this narrow stone path that was so jagged and uneven it was like walking on stairs.

This new path weaved through trees and down hills, hitting a couple more layers of stairs before it became a dirt path. This led right to the edge of the Black Lake and a dock that has definitely seen better days.

“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid said to the sea of 40-some-odd children while pointing to the boats. There were 11 boats, which, if Rochelle did her math right, should get everyone across in one go. One of the children would have to ride with Hagrid, though, as there were 41 students.

Rochelle, Draco, and Blaise piled into one boat. With Blaise and Draco taking one side and Rochelle taking the other. It didn't take long for one of the lone students to climb into their boat.

It was a girl. She had curly red hair that fell just past her shoulder blades, deep blue eyes that seemed to glow in the moonlight, and pale skin utterly riddled with freckles. She looked like a Weasley. But the only Weasley girl was Ginny, so she can’t be a Weasley. Who is she?

Apparently, Rochelle wasn’t the only one who had that initial reaction, because Draco looked at her and his face almost immediately contorted in disgust. “I will not be having a Weasley sharing our boat.” He spat with a pointed glare at the girl.

Rochelle kicked his leg, earning her an “ow!” from the boy and a betrayed glare. “Draco, shut up. She isn’t a Weasley, so get your head out of your butt and wipe off that stank face.”

She turned, smiled sweetly at the girl and kindly said, “Take a seat. Sorry for the crap company.” Then scooted over to give the girl more room, decidedly ignoring the offended squawk that escaped Draco’s mouth.

The girl placed a hand on her hip. “Ha. Crap company? You should meet my family back in Edinburgh. Fucking nightmare.”

The girl spoke with a Scottish accent that Rochelle couldn’t help but smile at. So far, she has only met people with English accents, so it was nice hearing someone with a different accent.

The Scottish girl took a seat next to the American one. “But you…” She looked poignantly at Rochelle. “I like your snark. What’s your name? And don’t you dare say something stupid like Longbottom. I had to deal with one of those on the train. Lost his fucking toad and expected me to help find it.”

Rochelle felt herself get a little giddy hearing the girl swear. She was so used to swearing like a sailor in her old life that censoring herself while posing as a child was beginning to wear on her. With another child swearing, she saw an opportunity to let loose and not censor herself so much. “Some asshat apparently helped Longbottom find his toad.” The girl finished.

Beaming with joy, Rochelle put a hand out for the girl to shake. “Rochelle McCullen. This is Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini.” The girl took her hand and shook it while Rochelle continued. “And the asshat that helped Neville get his toad was me. Some of my best asshattery, if I do say so myself.” With a glance at her friends, she could see the shock on their faces at the interaction, but honestly, Rochelle couldn’t figure out what they were shocked about.

”Oh.” The girl said. “Actually, good job. Bloody bastard looks fucking slippery. Dunno how you did it. Nice to meet you, Rochelle. I’m Ophelia. Ophelia Alexander.” And just as Rochelle was about to excitedly explain how she modified Accio to work more slowly and make it safe to use on living things, they heard Hagrid’s voice.

”Everyone in?” Rochelle looked over at him, and sure enough, a student was in his boat, despite having one to himself in the book. “Right then. Forward!” The boats all began moving in unison across the lake. Not a single voice was heard on the calm water that was ominously still.

This was where Hogwarts Legacy and the book differ. The castle wasn’t on a large cliff, and they didn't need to pass through a tunnel, or under the cliff, or through ivy.

The boathouse wasn’t underground either. It just sat on the water’s edge, just a stone's throw away from where the dock was. Much more boring than was described in the book, but still magical as the castle loomed over them the closer they got.

Rochelle took a moment to situate her things. Her backpack was still shrunk in her pocket. Her wand was still in her holster. Her notebook was still tightly clenched in her hand with a pen clipped to the front cover.

She double checked when they pulled into the boathouse and again when they got off the boats, lining back up to be led by Hagrid. They then began the tremulous walk up literally thousands of steps.

About two-thirds of the way up, Ophelia groaned with exasperation. “Fuckin’ hell! Why in the world are there so many stairs? You’d think a school full of wizards could have invented something to just lift us. Bloody idiots.” She seemed very out of breath and exceedingly disgruntled.

Rochelle chuckled breathlessly, but it held no real humor. “Damn right. We need some elevators or escalators in this bitch.” She looked over at Ophelia, practically mirroring how tired she looked. Only, Rochelle felt like she was dying, if she were to be so dramatic… which of course she is.

Blaise got Rochelle’s attention by huffing a bit louder than he already was. “You weren’t exaggerating. There are a lot of stairs. No wonder it will take a while. This is tiring.”

Draco looked at him with a smirk. “You’re just out of shape. You should practice Quidditch more often with me. Perhaps then you wouldn’t be so tired right now.” As if Quidditch used your leg muscles much at all. Didn't flying just use your arms to steer? Maybe a bit of core strength too?

Rochelle was huffing and puffing heavier. “Both of you.” Huff. “Shut. Up.” Huff, puff. “Or I’ll hex your tongue,” sharp inhale, “to the roof of your mouth!”

She breathed heavily after exerting so much energy on the threat. She was practically dragging herself up the stairs by the railing. Ophelia was watching with a smile, snickering while she herself was also practically dragging herself up the stairs.

Draco scoffed and smirked at her. “There isn’t a hex that does that.” His eyes held a bit of fear. “Right?”

Rochelle laughed a bit through tired breaths and a mocking smirk. “You’re right. My mistake. It’s a jinx, not a hex.” They then arrived at the top of the stairs and into the courtyard, where she leveled them a serious glare, a smirk still adorning her face.

“Langlock. That's the spell. Professor Snape created it back in his Hogwarts days. Mighty useful to get people to shut up.” The not-so-subtle threat practically oozed from her tone of voice. It prompted her to wonder when, not if, she would use the jinx. Children can be so annoying.

Draco’s brows crashed together. “Unc- I mean. Professor Snape created a spell? How would you know?” The group stopped briefly so he could look the girl over properly in disbelief.

Scoffing and raising a brow, Rochelle gave him a very clear, ‘are you serious?’ look. Which promptly popped the balloon of his ego and caused him to turn away toward the direction the rest of the group was now going in.

While the group began walking, Ophelia leaned over to Rochelle and whispered into her ear. “You better teach me that jinx later.”

Rochelle looked at her and smiled brightly. “Oh, most definitely.” Ophelia Alexander wasn’t a name on the list of students in their year that Rochelle had. That meant she was one of the unnamed characters at the bottom of the list.

She doesn’t seem like a Gryffindor. There weren’t any Ravenclaw students who were girls on that list. No way in hell was she a Hufflepuff. She may be the only Slytherin on that list, based on how she's acted thus far.

Hagrid knocked on the large oak doors, and a tall, black-haired witch in emerald robes opened the door. “The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid said.

She replied with a stern, but not unkind, “Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” This seemed to be yet another instance where they look nothing like their movie counterparts, but their voice was identical to them. Maggie Smith, the iconic legend of an actress, was instantly recognizable in this woman's short remark.

The doors opened wide, and the students were let into the entrance hall. There were two sets of stairs on either side of the Hogwarts insignia and motto that led up to another set of large wooden doors.

It was as they walked through the first set of large doors that Ophelia spoke to her again from Rochelle’s left. Blaise was walking on her right with Draco slightly in front of them. “You know, you and I could be good friends if we’re sorted into Slytherin.”

Totally not 100% ominous. That seemed pretty conditional for a friendship, but Rochelle thought about it a bit and came to the conclusion they would more than likely be friends anyway. Perhaps this was just the girl's brand of banter.

She smiled at Ophelia and nodded her head. “One never knows where they will end up.” And with that, the two joined the other children in taking in their surroundings and following the crowd into the castle.

They were led by McGonagall up the marble staircase and through another two sets of doors to a smaller chamber before the Great Hall. “Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall.

“The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts.”

Rochelle rolled her eyes. Houses are nothing like family. Everyone knows Slytherin is a viper den that will kill anyone (figuratively) who steps a toe out of line. Sure, there is house pride, but nobody treats their housemates as actual family.

But McGonagall continued. “You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards.”

Rochelle leaned in to Blaise and whispered, “Yeah. Some pretty poor excuses for some too.” Which earned a suppressed snicker out of the boy that he had to cover up with a cough.

McGonagall glared in their direction, but continued regardless. ”While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will cost your house points.

At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”

Rochelle shook her head with a sigh. She always hated the point system. There is no reason why the misdeeds of one should affect the whole.

”The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” Professor McGonagall finished.

Her eyes lingered in one area of the group of children that Rochelle knew held Neville, Ron, and Harry. “I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.”

Instantly after the doors closed, Rochelle made her way through the crowd with nothing more than a little wave at Ophelia, Draco, and Blaise. She got to her destination just in time to hear Ron say, “Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.”

Rochelle walked right up to them and smacked Ron on his upper back. “Fred’s pulling your leg, and it’s not a test. It’s a hat.” She looked at the three boys she had just approached and began fussing about fixing them up. Her first task was to use her sleeve to clean Ron’s nose.

He fought her, of course, trying to push her away. “What the- bloody hell- what do you know- get off me!” He pushed her hand away successfully, but she was the winner because she got the smudge off.

She smiled smugly and moved over to Neville, who accepted her help a bit apprehensively, but still didn't shy away. “A hat? What do you mean by a hat?” Harry said while watching her work.

”The Sorting Hat is a sentient magical hat that the founders of Hogwarts created to sort the students. It can sing, speak, and read your mind when you put it on. That's how it sorts you. So don’t get all freaked out when it starts talking to you.” Rochelle said as she finished fixing up Neville’s robes, then she turned to Harry to try and do something about his hair.

Neville spoke in a soft voice. “And you know that cause you’re a seer- I mean a Reader? That's incredible! I would have guessed someone told you, but I’m not sure Malfoy knows, and you're American, so you haven’t had family go here before. Right?” He looked hopeful that he got it right.

Rochelle messed with Harry’s hair, who was just looking at her and smiling as he let her mess with it. It truly was an absolute mess of black curls, but with a few twists, clumping, and fluffing in the right areas, she was able to get it tame enough to not draw too much attention to it.

She made sure his bangs covered his scar as much as possible, keeping in mind his dislike for attention. When she was done, she smiled triumphantly and nodded her head once before turning to Neville.

”You’re exactly right, Neville. I just came over to help you guys look presentable. In a few minutes, some ghosts are gonna come through, so don't get scared when you hear screaming.” She looked at the confused boys and beamed as she waved, “Bye!” They gave her a mixture of goodbyes as she turned and made her way back over to her friends.

Almost the moment after she arrived back over with them, the screaming in the back of the group began. One ghost said, “Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-“

He was interrupted by the other ghost. “My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name, you know, he’s not even a ghost- I say, what are you all doing here?” They said as they noticed the first years.

”New students!” Said the Fat Friar with a warm smile. “About to be Sorted, I suppose?” Some of the students nodded their heads. “Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know.”

Draco leaned in to Blaise and Rochelle and grumbled. “Not if I can help it. Who wants to be in a house of ninnies?” Which earned him a smack on the shoulder from Rochelle. “Hey! You’ve been awfully physical with me since we’ve arrived. Has the Hogwarts air scrambled your brains?” He rubbed his shoulder, frowning at the girl.

”Maybe I wouldn’t hit you if you weren’t being a judgmental brat since we got here.” Anything Draco would have wanted to say in response was cut off by Professor McGonagall.

”Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start.” She said, and the ghosts made their exit. “Now, form a line, and follow me.” She told the children, and quickly, they followed her orders.

Blaise made it a point to stand behind Rochelle, which caused Draco and Ophelia to stand in front of her. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “I want to watch you fill in the names.”

To this, Rochelle held up her notebook and whispered back, “Be my guest.” She opened it to the right page and placed the pen into it to save it more clearly than with just one of the many bookmarks adorning the bottom of the book.

The first year children were led into the Great Hall, and everyone looked around in awe, Rochelle included. She had seen this more times than she could count with the movies and playing the game combined.

They pale in comparison to the sheer magic of the enchanted ceiling. Clear skies and sparkling stars littered the deceptively everlasting space. The place was absolutely enormous, and being a small child made it seem even bigger.

Rochelle was still looking around when she heard the hat begin to sing. Its song had the exact words she knew it would, so she focused more on the tune.

It wasn’t an expertly constructed song. The notes were simple, and it seemed like it was more for fun than a serious performance. Like a poetry show, rather than a proper song.

When the hat stopped singing and the hall became quiet, Professor McGonagall stepped forward and unfurled a long scroll of parchment with an unintentionally dramatic flourish. “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted.”

And so it begins.

Chapter Text

“Abbott, Hannah.” Professor McGonagall calls out. Hannah stumbled out of line and walked up to the professor, blonde pigtails bouncing as she walked. There was a moment's pause after she placed the oversized hat on her head and sat down before the hat called out its verdict.

”Hufflepuff!” The Hufflepuff table cheered loudly as Hannah went to sit with them. Rochelle could feel Blaise looking over her shoulder.

”Alexander, Ophelia.” Called the professor. Ophelia stepped out of line and glanced at Rochelle so briefly she barely caught it before she walked up and copied what Hannah had done. The hat seemed to be doing a bit more deliberating as it took only slightly longer than Hannah.

”Slytherin!” Called the hat, and the Slytherin table cheered. Rochelle wrote Ophelia’s name next to the ‘S (girl)’ line at the bottom quickly before looking back up to the front. She watched the new Slytherin grin proudly as she looked directly at Rochelle.

They locked eyes, and Ophelia winked before walking over to her new house's table. Rochelle just smiled at her in return. She had an idea of what house she would be in based on the Pottermore test, but her wand was different from that, so her house may be too. She sure hoped it wasn’t, though. She got rather attached to her house.

”Amara, Calix.” Another name Rochelle hadn't heard before. A boy with dark brown hair walked out of line and sat down with the hat.

”Ravenclaw!” The Ravenclaw table erupted in cheers, and the boy went to sit down. Rochelle wrote that name down in one of the two Ravenclaw boy spaces at the bottom of the list.

A steady rhythm began with the Professor calling names, the hat calling houses, and the houses cheering. ”Bones, Susan.” “Hufflepuff!” Cheers.

”Boot, Terry.” ”Ravenclaw!” Cheers.

”Brochlehurst, Mandy.” ”Ravenclaw!” Cheers.

”Brown, Lavender.” ”Gryffindor!” Cheers.

”Bulstrode, Millicent.” “Slytherin!” Cheers.

”Corner, Michael.” “Ravenclaw!” Cheers.

”Crabbe, Vincent.” “Slytherin!” Cheers.

”Craig, Neegan.” A boy with long, straight black hair pulled in a low ponytail walked up. “Hufflepuff!” Cheers. Another one for Rochelle’s list.

”Davis, Tracy.” “Slytherin!” Cheers.

”Denver, Yoru.” An Asian boy with a classic bowl cut walked up. “Ravenclaw!” Cheers. Another for Rochelle’s list.

”Dunbar, Fay.” “Gryffindor!” Cheers.

”Finch-Fletchley, Justin.” “Hufflepuff!” Cheers.

”Finnigan, Seamus.” “Gryffindor!” Cheers.

”Granger, Hermione.” “Gryffindor!” Cheers.

”Greengrass, Daphne.” “Slytherin!” Cheers.

”Goldstein, Anthony.” “Ravenclaw!” Cheers.

”Goyle, Gregory.” “Slytherin!” Cheers.

”Hopkins, Wayne.” “Hufflepuff!” Cheers.

”Jones, Megan.” “Hufflepuff!” Cheers.

”Li, Sue.” “Ravenclaw!” Cheers.

”Longbottom, Neville.” “Gryffindor!” Cheers.

”MacDougal, Morag.” “Ravenclaw!” Cheers.

”Macmillan, Ernie.” “Hufflepuff!” Cheers.

”Malfoy, Draco.” He stepped out of line and walked up with the confidence of knowing exactly what house he would get. Rochelle couldn’t take much credit there as he had that confidence in the books. The hat barely touched his head as it called out, “Slytherin!” And the Slytherin table erupted into cheers.

”McCullen, Rochelle.” Oh, sweet Merlin. Rochelle closed her book on her pen and stepped out of line. She could feel Blaise’s hand squeeze her shoulder briefly, which was a welcome comfort. She walked up with as much confidence as she could muster and placed the hat on her head while taking a seat.

”Ah. How strange. I’ve never had one of you.” Said the hat in her ear.

Rochelle smiled and thought, “Do you mean the American bit? Or the from-another-universe bit?”

The hat laughed. “Both. You come with expectations of one house, but your actions speak of another. Your identity clings to knowledge and the house that values it, yet the ambition and cunning you’ve practiced since you arrived, say you would be a perfect fit in the house of snakes. Oh, what to do.”

Rochelle’s smile vanished. “What? I’m not surprised you’re considering Slytherin, but it sounds to me you're only considering my actions since I got here. What about the entirety of my old life?”

The hat hummed. “That’s because I cannot see any lives beyond the present one. That goes for every student's mind I’ve peered into. Souls repeat, but lives do not. I judge one's current life. So tell me, why should I consider putting you in Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin?”

That made sense, kinda. So the hat is only working with roughly 4 months of content. “My interests have always involved learning and exploring knowledge in some way. My current interest is spell research. I also believe knowledge is meant to be shared, and I refuse to gatekeep useful knowledge. If I have an answer to someone’s question, I’ll more than likely share it unless I have a damn good reason not to.” She thought to the hat.

”Ah, yes. Your quest to save the Malfoy boy. Wouldn’t being placed in the same house as him and your new friend make that quest and your life that much easier? Why not allow yourself to get over your hold on Ravenclaw and be a Slytherin?” At this point, it sounded like the hat had already made a decision, no matter what she said.

But she tries again anyway. “I don’t care much about making my life easier if it means being someone I’m not. I’m a Ravenclaw. I’ve been a Ravenclaw since I was 10 in my first life. I took that quiz more times than I can count and only got Slytherin 5 times and Hufflepuff once. Perhaps I’ve become more Slytherin-y since I got here, but I will always feel more at home in Ravenclaw.”

”Hmm.” Was all the hat said as it thought to itself for a long time. Too long. Rochelle wasn’t timing it, but she was almost certain she had been on the stool for longer than 4 minutes. She tried to remember how long the longest Hatstall was, and came up with five and a half minutes. After a bit longer, the hat spoke again into her ear. “While I truly believe you would utterly thrive in Slytherin, feeling at home while firmly believing in the house's core values is the foundation of what I do. So it will be-“

“Ravenclaw!” The Ravenclaw table cheered as Rochelle made her way down to it. She sat on the side of the table closest to the Slytherin table so her back was right to Draco and Ophelia’s.

Draco turned around and said to her, “I knew you would Hatstall, but I wasn’t expecting a new record. Seven and a half minutes! What was taking so long? What houses?”

Rochelle turned around in her seat and smiled at him. “Slytherin and Ravenclaw, that’s it.”

Ophelia turned around and smirked at her. “I didn’t think you were that smart. I guess I know who to steal notes from.” Rochelle smirked and was about to retort with something denying that she was book smart, so stealing her notes would only ensure a Troll when Professor McGonagall continued with the other first-year students.

”Nott, Theodore.” “Slytherin!” Cheers.

”Parkinson, Pansy.” “Slytherin!” Cheers.

”Patil, Padma.” “Ravenclaw!” Cheers.

”Patil, Parvati.” “Gryffindor!” Cheers.

”Perks, Sally-Anne.” “Gryffindor!” Cheers.

”Potter, Harry.” Instantly, the room filled with whispers. Harry slowly made his way up to the hat. He sat there for a decent amount of time, and Rochelle knew roughly what conversation was happening. She only hoped she didn't mess up too much for him to not get- “Gryffindor!” the hat suddenly shouted, and the hall erupted into the loudest cheers so far. The cheers continued for longer than the others, too, which was expected.

Rochelle was clapping with a warm smile while watching Harry get welcomed into Gryffindor. His eyes eventually found their way to her, and she lifted her clapping hands a bit, smiling brighter to show she was proud of his placement. He returned her smile with a beaming, bright one of his own. Eventually, once the cheering subsided, Professor McGonagall continued.

”Seraphelle, Leanne.” “Hufflepuff!” Cheers.

”Smith, Zacharias.” “Hufflepuff!” Cheers.

”Thomas, Dean.” “Gryffindor!” Cheers.

”Turpin, Lisa.” “Ravenclaw!” Cheers.

”Veeram, Solaya.” A tall girl with deep black hair that just barely brushed her shoulders as she walked approached the hat. “Hufflepuff!” Cheers. Another one for Rochelle’s list. That was the last unknown name, as the last two children were taken care of.

”Weasley, Ronald.” “Gryffindor!” Cheers.

”Zabini, Blaise.” “Slytherin!” Cheers. Blaise made his way to the Slytherin table and plopped himself right next to Draco so he could immediately turn around to Rochelle.

”Did I miss anyone?” He said with a smirk.

Rochelle simply showed him the notebook page. “Just one. Solaya Veeram, Hufflepuff.”

They didn’t have much time to chat as Dumbledore stood up, smiling a bit too brightly and opening his arms a bit too welcomingly. “Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are:-“

Rochelle leaned over to Blaise, Draco, and Ophelia and spoke at the same time as Dumbledore did. “Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!” She couldn’t help but laugh at their faces. Blaise just smiled at her in bemusement while Draco’s expression was a mixture of confusion and disgust. Ophelia looked at her like she had grown a second head while shaking her own before turning to face her house table.

Dumbledore thanked them briefly before taking his seat back at the Head Table. A few moments later and the tables were filled with all sorts of food. Rochelle turned to her own table and began taking whatever food was nearest to her. She missed American food and was really craving some deep-dish Mac ‘n Cheese, but chicken would do just fine to fill her up.

Since she was facing her table, she was also facing the rest of the hall, and thus could see the moment Nearly Headless Nick, or Sir Nicholas, grabbed his hair and pulled his head onto his shoulder. That keyed her into where they are in the timeline with conversations, and as if right on time, behind her, she could hear Blaise’s voice. “Hello, sir. You must be our house ghost. What is your name, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Someone a bit more down the table, must be someone in an upper year, answered for the brooding, silent ghost. “The Bloody Baron,” they said. “We don't know his real name.”

Just behind her, she could hear Ophelia exclaim. “Bloody hell! No, literally. How in the world did you get to be so… well, bloody?” 

Now it was Rochelle's time to chime in. She turned around and leaned across the aisle. “Probably because he murdered his crush and then himself.” She couldn’t help it. She knew the answer, and she couldn’t help but share it. If this kept up, she wouldn’t be able to keep any secrets. But perhaps that was to her advantage. If she appeared to be unable to hold knowledge to herself, she could keep important secrets all the better because people would think she was incapable of not sharing what she knew.

Ophelia rolled her eyes and smirked back at the newly appointed Ravenclaw and latched onto that muttering, “Fucking Ravenclaws.” She then turned the rest of the way toward the girl. “I’m not even surprised that you’d know that.”

Draco is simply looking at the Bloody Baron uncomfortably. He definitely didn't like that the ghost had taken up residence on the seat next to him and Blaise, if his expression is any indicator. And Blaise, for his part, just looked intrigued. He did, however, lean backward and look at Ophelia. “You’ll get used to that feeling. She’s a bit of a know-it-all, but in the literal sense, not the self-important sense.”

Rochelle scowled playfully at the boy. “Thanks. I feel oh-so very loved. However, shall I repay your heartfelt compliment?” She deadpanned in a drawling voice she had gotten rather good at, having learned it from Draco and Lucius. Blaise simply smiled at her and winked before returning to his food.

It didn’t take long after the children began to slow down their eating for the food to switch to dessert. Rochelle instantly searched in front of her for anything chocolate and ended up having to get up from her seat to search the table. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a single chocolate item on the Ravenclaw table.

Do Ravenclaws typically not like chocolate or something? Well, that’s disappointing. But then a thought suddenly occurred to her. If she is going to look at other tables for chocolate desserts, she can take care of one of the letters she had written in preparation for Hogwarts.

So, Rochelle returned to her seat and took out her shrunken backpack. She put her notebook into it, and with the extension charm, it still fit. She then accio’d the letters she needed and unshrunk them discreetly. Putting the backpack and one of the letters back into her pocket, she got up again and walked over to the Hufflepuff table and began her search for chocolate delights.

She walked over to the first years and smiled happily. “Hello! I was wondering if there is anything chocolate over here. There isn’t any at Ravenclaw for some reason.”

Hannah Abbott smiled back at her. “Hello! We have some biscuits and fudge, I believe.”

Susan Bones nodded and followed suit in the friendly greetings of smiling. “There is also some parfait over here.” She gestured to the small cups close to her with what looked like chocolate pudding layered with whipped cream and topped with cookies.

Rochelle beamed brighter. “Perfect! I’ll have some of that then, if you don’t mind me taking a cup.”

Bones shook her head and grabbed one of the cups. “Not at all!” She held it out to the Ravenclaw girl.

Rochelle took the parfait and giggled happily. “Thanks! You're Susan Bones, right?” She looked at Abbott, “And Hannah Abbott. I recognize you from Draco’s party, but we were never properly introduced. I’m Rochelle McCullen.” She had her hands full; otherwise, she would have offered a hand to shake.

The two girls nodded, and Abbott responded. “I remember you! The way you handled Parkinson was beautiful.” She giggled a bit, probably remembering the spectacle from the party.

”I read your name in the Prophet. The new seer, right?” Said Bones, to which Rochelle nodded and looked at the letter in her hand.

”I was actually hoping you could do a favor for me, Bones.” She held out the letter. “Could you send this to your aunt for me? I know that's kinda strange of an ask, but it’s really important that she gets this.” Her smile turned a bit sheepish. She knew it was weird, but she needed Amelia Bones to get that letter.

Bones tentatively took the letter with slow movements and a skeptical eye. “Was the parfait just a ruse to ask me a favor?” She looked it over, flipping it around to the wax seal on the back and furrowing her brows in confusion. “I don’t recognize this seal.”

Rochelle laughed nervously. “That’s my personal seal, mixed with family crests of families I descend from that are actually from the UK. I wouldn’t expect anyone to know it. But to your question, no, I brought the letter over just in case I had a chance to ask. The Ravenclaw table genuinely has no chocolate. I’m a bit addicted to the stuff if I'm honest.” She shifted her stance as she laughed nervously again, unsure of exactly how she was supposed to act right now.

The two girls looked her over for a moment before Abbott spoke up to Bones. “Perhaps a letter of introduction, along with her letter, would be a good idea. I can vouch for her character based on what I witnessed at the party. I highly doubt she cursed the letter, even if she could do that kind of magic already.” Oh, little does this child know that she can indeed already do that kind of magic.

Bones nodded slowly and looked at Rochelle. “Alright. I’ll send those to my aunt tomorrow morning.” She smiled at her, but it seemed more like a formal or polite smile now, instead of the genuinely friendly one she wore before. That's a bit disappointing to Rochelle, but she can work with that.

She beamed brightly. “Thank you! You're doing me a huge favor, and you just gave me a chocolate parfait, so if you need anything, literally anything, you can come right to me. I take chocolate very seriously.” She giggled as she waved with her now free hand. “I’ll see you two in classes tomorrow!”

Abbott and Bones waved back with a bit more genuine smiles. “See you tomorrow, McCullen!” Said Abbott.

Rochelle scoffed lightheartedly and rolled her eyes a bit. “So formal. Please call me Rochelle. I’m more comfortable with that, and we aren’t strangers anymore. You gave me chocolate. We’re friends now.” She giggled and waved again before turning to leave back to her seat. As she walked away, she could hear the two girls saying ‘Same to you,’ and ‘Call me Hannah!’

Mission one, successful.

Second mission, commence.

As she was walking back to Ravenclaw, she paused at Gryffindor and walked up to Harry. “Can you hand this off to Fred and George Weasley? Just pass it down, or hand it to them in your common room?” She ignored the glare she was receiving from Ron and kept her eyes on Harry.

He took the note with a nod and a confused expression when Percy Weasley chimed in. “Passing a letter to my brothers? What business could a Ravenclaw first year have with two Gryffindor third years?” He tried to take the letter from Harry. Anyone could technically read it, since it’s not sealed or anything like that, but it still wasn’t for the nosy prefect to read, so she slapped his hand away from Harry.

He drew back his hand with a quick, ‘ow, hey!’ before Rochelle glared at him. “No offense, Percy, but that’s none of your freaking business. I don’t care if you’re a prefect, you don’t get to snatch letters that aren’t yours from people and read them. Regardless of whether the recipients of the letter are your family or not.”

Percy looked at her with both surprise and irritation. Was the surprise from the fact that she knew his name? Or was it because she slapped him? It’s not hard to guess the red-headed and freckled Gryffindor who looks more put together than the other red-headed and freckled Gryffindors with a prefect badge is Percy Weasley.

He then took a deep breath through his nose while closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he seemed to have collected himself. “My apologies for prying and my unkind handling of the situation. However, I am still a prefect, so you will treat me with respect.”

Rochelle smiled at him, but it was purely fake. “Apology accepted. I’ll show you the respect you show me that you deserve, regardless of your position. Now I’m going to go back to my seat and eat my chocolate parfait. I hope that the next time we speak, it will be with an air of mutual respect.”

She looked at Harry with a genuine smile. “Sorry about that. Thanks for passing it along. Congrats on Gryffindor! See you tomorrow!” She walked away and back to her seat before she could see anyone's reactions. She really wanted to enjoy her parfait.

The feast ended without incident, but the moment it was done, Dumbledore stood up, and everyone went quiet. “Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.” Oh great. Now for the very obvious message of certain death on the 3rd floor. Totally not designed specifically to make it as enticing to curious and adventurous little first-year Gryffindors as possible.

”First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils.” Except for when first years need detention in the middle of the night. Then it's perfectly fine for them to be in there, and without a teacher to boot. Rochelle is totally not salty about how poorly the teachers (mainly Dumbledore) seem to manage the children's safety in this school.

“And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” Dumbledore looks in the direction of the Weasley twins, which reminds Rochelle of another thing she needs to do before bed.

Dumbledore continued. “I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.” Unless, of course, you’re a Quidditch prodigy. Then you’ll be scouted for your team by your head of house and be the youngest seeker in a century.

”And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.” Dumbledore finished, and a few students laughed.

Rochelle laughed, but not for the same reasons as everyone else. She laughed because the only things in that corridor that seem to pose an actual challenge and may cause death are the chess game and maybe the trolls. Everything else is simple enough for a first-year to pass easily. 

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” Dumbledore happily cheered. Rochelle rolled her eyes and slumped onto the table in front of her, burying her face into her arms. She didn’t want to see or hear what was happening next. The words are just so cringy. “Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!” Dumbledore said with too much excitement.

The cringy school song was sung by most of the student body, and Rochelle just kept her head down. The words everyone was singing were all the same, but everyone sang a different tune, and it was painful to listen to. The twins were the last to finish singing, and once done, Dumbledore clapped louder than anyone else.

”Ah, music,” Dumbledore mused while wiping a fake tear from his eye. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!” Everyone stood at once, and the hall was filled with the sound of benches moving, clothes rustling, and children chatting. The house prefects all called for their respective first years to follow them to their common rooms and dorms.

Rochelle stood up and turned to her Slytherin friends. “I know where the Slytherin room is, so I’ll force my way in to get you all tomorrow morning.” None of them even had time to react as Snape was suddenly right there and looming over them.

”You most certainly will not. Regardless of how you’ve acquired where the Slytherin common rooms are, entering without being a member of the house is strictly against the rules. Looking to lose points for your house already, Miss McCullen?” Snape glared down at the children, but pointedly at Rochelle. She could see the students around her looking afraid of him, but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to join them.

She smiled brightly at the grumpy and greasy professor and decided to reply. “Oh, of course not, Professor Snape. I wouldn’t dream of intentionally losing my house points. Things like that need to happen organically, don’t you agree? So, to what do us first years owe the pleasure of your attention, sir?” She had to hold back a giggle when she noticed Blaise trying to hide his laughter and Draco looking utterly horrified.

Snape sneered down at her in disgust. “It seems I need to jog your poor excuse for a memory. My office, now.” He then pushed past the children toward the exit to the Great Hall. Rochelle just waved to her bewildered friends with a bubbly wave and practically skipped after the billowing black cloak.

She was led by Snape through three sets of doors, back into the entrance hall, then down the stairs and to the left, where they went through a door at the bottom of the stairs. This led to an annoyingly long spiral staircase that took them down into the dungeons.

She followed Snape as he turned left at the intersection at the bottom of the stairs and down the hall at the end. They passed a gate and another door before entering the one at the very end. Rochelle tried racking her brain to see if she could remember where in the game this was or if it was even relevant. She knew roughly where the Slytherin common room was from here, but that was about it.

The two entered a damp office space. The room was rather large for just an office. It had many potion stations, though, so it must be used as his personal brewing room as well. Snape took his seat at the desk and glared at Rochelle.

“Now, why exactly have you requested a meeting with me after the feast and promptly forgotten about it? I took you as smarter than that. And to think you’ve been sorted into Ravenclaw. How very embarrassing I ever took you seriously. You are a child after all.” His voice was dull and annoyed. If his words and posture weren't enough to key the girl in on his immense disdain for this conversation, his tone of voice surely would.

Rochelle simply crossed her arms and scoffed. “I didn’t forget. I had planned on waiting by the dungeon door after informing the Ravenclaw prefect that I had a meeting with you. It’s not my fault you're impatient.” This earned the girl a more heated glare, as if the other one was just his resting face. But this being Snape, it probably was.

“Five points from Ravenclaw for disrespecting a professor.” Snape snapped. “Get on with the point of this meeting before I deduct more.”

Rochelle rolled her eyes. “I honestly don’t care about points. Gryffindor is gonna win the cup by a landslide because the headmaster is biased. You could just ask nicely why I wanted to meet with you. You attract more flies with honey than vinegar, ya know?”

“I will not be attracting flies. Now, speak.” Snape snarled and looked as though he might attempt something to get her to talk if she kept being snarky.

She raised her hands in surrender. “Geez, fine, I get it. Strap in, Professor. Cause I’m gonna rip the band-aid off real quick, and I want you to actually absorb what I'm about to say. Think about it before you respond negatively or try deducting points or whatever else you do when you hear information you're not willing to accept.” Snape looked like he was about to respond again, but instead, he just glared and waited for her to finish speaking.

“I want you to not be such a bully to Harry. You think he's this pampered prince who was raised with love and adoration, but he's not. His home life is a lot like yours was, but he didn't have the luxury of wandering around the streets to temporarily escape or seclude himself in his bedroom. He doesn’t have a proper room and won't even get one until the school year is over. Just Petunia, her walrus of a husband, and their pig of a child.” Her voice grew more and more infuriated the more she spoke.

“He walks and talks like he doesn't have a right to take up space in this world. He flinches when someone moves too quickly, and he clings to anything and everything he can to try and appear like a normal, happy, and healthy child. You may look at him and see James Junior, but he isn't James, he’s Harry.

The only thing those two have in common is messy hair, glasses, and Gryffindor recklessness. Harry isn’t a bully. He isn’t some pampered prince raised with love and a stable home. He has more in common with you than he ever will with James or Lily. If anything, he's had it worse.” She had to stop herself from continuing and turning this into a venting session about how much she hates Harry’s situation. If her letter to Amelia Bones goes well, hopefully, she can make Harry’s life drastically better.

The room was silent for a long while after that. Rochelle was trying to study Snape's expression, but he did a remarkable job keeping a poker face. Eventually, he did speak, though, and said in a pinched voice, “I have no reason to believe your words. You claim you know my secrets. You claim Potter lives the opposite of how I was led to believe he has lived. Granted, your many references to details of my life you have absolutely no right to know do support the first of those claims. However, what makes you think I will trust the words of some seer child over the words of Albus Dumbledore?”

Rochelle had to restrain an eye roll. “Reader, not seer. And because Dumbledore minces the truth or outright lies so he can manipulate people to play his game exactly how he wants them to. You, for instance. You're stuck being the potions master here because you were his little spy in the Death Eaters. He needs you to stay close to protect Harry because Voldie isn’t fully gone yet.

You can’t take the Defense position like you want to because it's cursed to only have a professor for one year, so if you were to take that position, you'd have to leave. He can't have that, now, can he?” Snape tensed further at her words and glared with a new kind of fury. If he is surprised she knows all this, he is hiding it well.

She continues to try and prove her point as it doesn’t seem like Snape will answer. “He told you lies about how Harry was doing, so you wouldn’t treat him well. He needs Harry’s self-esteem and sense of belonging to be so low that he is willing to die for the war without valuing his own life in the slightest.

If you knew Harry was being abused, you might try and get him out of that hellhole of a house. You might just realize he isn’t a mini James. You might stop thinking of him as James’ child and start thinking of him as Lily’s. You might care about him. Dumbledore wants Harry ripe for the manipulating. I want him to just be a normal kid. That is why you should trust my word over the headmaster's.”

Snape maintained his expression. Carefully blank. His eyes, which were ordinarily so expressive with irritation and fury, were void of such emotions. He seemed to be actually thinking about what she said. After what felt like too long, Rochelle then asked her original request again.

“So, Professor Snape, would you be willing to treat Harry the same way you would any other student? That is to say, don't go out of your way to tear him down or humiliate him. Your normal teaching demeanor and general bullying of all your students will definitely keep you in his second to least favorite teachers spot. You don't need to gun for lower.” She had to bite back the smirk she could feel itching itself onto her lips.

That seemed to snap him out of whatever he was thinking, as the irritation in his eyes was back. He breathed an equally irritated sigh before standing from his seat. “I will consider this thoroughly. For now, I will disregard any preconceptions I have of the Potter boy. Is that enough to satisfy your overprotective tendencies?”

Rochelle smiled at him and nodded, not even bothering to deny that she was a bit overprotective. “Yep! For now, at least. If I hear about you bullying him in class from Blaise or Draco, I’ll come threaten you again. I don’t care if you're a teacher or if our extracurricular agreement was the bargaining chip for me not spilling your secrets. I’ll come up with a fitting threat to accompany your crimes.”

She then beamed brighter at his scowling face and immediately turned and walked out the door. “I know my way to Ravenclaw Tower. Have a good night, Professor!” She called as she closed the door behind her and skipped down the hall of the dungeon.

Chapter Text

As Rochelle was walking in the dungeon, trying to find her way through the castle, she started to thank her past self for being smart with her letter to the twins. If she had given a specific place and time, she would definitely be late and lost. The letter read:

Greetings to the mischievous Weasley twins, Fred and George.

I have some intriguing information for interested troublemakers. Find me after the feast. You may need to wait a bit because I have a meeting with Professor Snape first, so fair warning. I know you have a way of finding me, so use it and bring it with you.

See you then!

First year, Rochelle McCullen.

She had no idea what information she would give the twins. Maybe just point their mischief in Quirrell's direction to make Voldie’s life as a scab on the back of a half-dead man's head that much worse? Maybe they saw her article and have some questions of their own? She had no clue, but she was willing to say just about anything if they were willing to let her do what she wanted to do.

She managed to find her way to the Central Hall and heard a pair of voices speak from behind one of the staircases. The one leading up to Ravenclaw Tower. “Would you look at that, Fred? It looks like she actually showed up.” Said one of them. Probably George, but they do tend to call each other their own name, so it might be Fred.

“I can see that, George. But what does she want?” Said maybe Fred. Rochelle turned to the area behind the stairs and smiled at the shadow-covered figures with a little wave before walking forward and joining them in seclusion.

”Hey there. Thanks for meeting me.” She said once she made sure they were alone. “Did you bring it?”

”Bring what?” Said one of them.

”She means that thing she thinks we have that helped us find her.” Said the other.

Rochelle rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Come on, guys. I know you’ve had the Marauder’s Map since your first year. I know more about it than you do, so don’t act ignorant.”

The two of them looked shocked for a moment before one of them spoke. “What’s it to you if we brought a map that we have no idea exists?” The other twin was about to speak, but Rochelle beat him to it.

”Honestly, I just want to make a copy of it so I can navigate the school better. It’s the only map of Hogwarts in existence, and I’m no map maker, so I can’t exactly make one myself. Plus, that one was made with four people’s knowledge of the school, not just one person. The only thing that makes it extra special is Moony’s enchantment on it. Or at least, I think Moony did it. I don’t trust that kind of difficult stuff with Wormtail, and Padfoot and Prongs were more Defense and Transfiguration wizards. So, enchanting would have probably gone to Moony.” Rochelle went off on a bit of a tangent, speaking without thinking much.

When she stopped thinking out loud, she looked back at the twins, who looked at her in astonishment. When they spoke, they finished each other's half-thoughts like it was second nature. “You really know them.”

“The Marauders.”

“Sounds like personally.”

“But they’re adults.”

“How do you know them?”

“Can we meet them?”

Rochelle giggled and held back the urge to answer that last question in reference to Wormtail. Instead, she focused on the others. “Yes, they are adults. No, I don’t know them personally. I’m a Reader, so I know because of my ability. That’s a new type of seer if you didn't know. Anyway, I said in my little letter that I have information for interested troublemakers. That info isn’t for free, mind you. You let me copy the Map, and I’ll answer one question each. If I don’t know the answer, you pick a different question. Deal?” She put out her hands, both of them, for them to shake if they accepted.

After a brief exchange of a look between them, they looked back at the girl and shook her hands and said, "Deal," at the same time. One of them then took the Map out of his robe pocket and held it out to her. Just before she grabbed it, he pulled it back. “One question before, one question after.”

She smiled at them and nodded her head before sitting on the floor as she reached into her pocket, got her notebook, unshrank it, and flipped through as she said. “So, what’s your first question?”

The twins were silent for a moment, and a glance at them showed they were having some kind of conversation through their eyes. She looked back down at her book, and a few seconds later, one of them spoke. “Who are the Marauders?”

Without missing a beat, she asked her own question. “You need to be more specific. Are you asking who they were as a group? Are you asking names?” She found the spell she needed and looked back up at them.

They paused, but then one of them slowly said. “You know their names?” Which sounded more like a statement than a question, but it was a question nonetheless. Their mistake there. 

Rochelle smiled at them mischievously. “Yes, I do. That’s one question down.” She put her hand out to be handed the map. Reluctantly and while rolling his eyes, the twin holding the map handed it over. The other boy groaned and muttered something expressing his annoyance at their slip-up.

She placed the map on the ground and opened it as she withdrew her wand, placing the tip on the blank parchment. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” The parchment sprang to life with the ink suddenly appearing, and she quickly opened the map.

She then looked down at the map and waved her wand over it while casting “Geminio,” and almost instantly, there was an identical map next to the original. The only difference was that the new one didn't have dots or names on it. The tracking enchantment didn’t make it to the copy.

Both twins were verbalizing their irritation at the fact that one of their questions was used that way, when they were startled by her saying the passphrase and casting the spell. One of them took a closer look and chuckled lightheartedly. “Aw, tough luck, innit? Looks like the tracking enchantment didn’t copy.”

Rochelle folded up the original map and said, “Mischief managed” before folding it the rest of the way and holding it out to the twin closest to her. “I didn’t want the enchantment to carry over. When you know the spells that make it special, you can cast them yourself. All I needed was the map. I can do the rest myself.” The twin took it while eyeing her.

The one further away spoke next. “You said the enchantments were hard. I highly doubt a firstie could do it. Even if you are a Ravenclaw.” She folded up her own map and tucked it into her pocket before closing her book and standing up, dusting off her clothes. She simply smiled at them, not bothering to defend her spell casting and not pointing out that they just witnessed a first-year student casting a copying charm successfully.

”Right, anyway. Second question, I guess. We’re not gonna make the same mistake as before. Why was Ron so against us meeting you? Bloody furious, he was. Said you had to be evil or something.” The twin closer to her spoke while eyeing her up and down. His eyes lingered a bit too long on her notebook.

She simply scoffed and rolled her eyes. “He’s jealous. I dared to befriend Harry Potter before he did. Then I had the audacity to defend Draco Malfoy when Ron tried to make fun of him on the train. In retaliation, I pointed out that he has no room to talk about bad names when he has a middle name like Bilius. He probably thinks I’m evil because I’m friends with Slytherins and live with the Malfoys. And I honestly won't be surprised if you think so too after hearing that last bit. What, with the Malfoy-Weasley blood feud and all that.” She crossed her arms, notebook being safely cradled against her chest as she watched for their reactions.

The one closer to her, holding the map, bit his lips closed as he tried to hold back a laugh. The other one didn't hold back and clutched his stomach, practically doubling over.

The one doing better at not laughing tried to explain when he saw Rochelle’s quizzical expression. “Not sure how we feel about you being mates with Malfoy. But good on ya for putting ickle Ronnikins down a peg.” He started giggling more as he walked over to his brother while putting the map in his robe pocket.

Said brother was heaving while wiping a tear from his eye, trying to control his laughter. “Going after his middle name was gold! He hates his middle name! Oh, we definitely are going to take the piss out of him for this one!” His breath was just about under control when he started giggling again. Probably at his possible plans of how to tease Ron about this.

Honestly, Rochelle didn’t think it was all that funny. Instead of saying so, like she normally would, she looked at them each closely. She couldn't see clearly in the dim light and shadowed corner they were in, but she tried to differentiate them anyway.

She remembered a pair of identical twins she knew back in school. She had been able to tell them apart after a while back in elementary school. Each time she saw one, she would ask which one they were until she could spot enough differences in them to not need to ask anymore. It was probably rude, but she wasn’t concerned about that right now, so she decided to shoot her shot at recreating that same thing while not being as rude.

“I don’t like not telling you two apart. You may be twins, but you're your own people outside of each other. So, is it alright if I ask you which one each of you are when I see you? I would appreciate it if you didn't try and confuse me by going by each other's names too. After a while, I’ll be able to tell the two of you apart without you telling me.” She couldn’t help but think of how George lost an ear and Fred died in the books. She hoped it wouldn’t come to those types of differences for her to be able to tell the two apart.

That seemed to snap the two of them from their laughing fit, and they yet again exchanged looks, having a complete silent conversation. A few moments pass, and they look back at her. The one who was laughing his ass off spoke. “I’m Fred, that’s George.”

George then spoke. “A bit strange, but we don't see an issue with agreeing to that.”

Rochelle smiled warmly and brightly, bouncing on her toes as she couldn’t seem to contain her joy. “That’s great! I’ll consider you two new friends then, since we will have to see each other more than our schedules would allow if I’m gonna learn who’s who by the end of the year at the latest. Being in different years and different houses means we have to make an effort to see each other."

She then started backing away while giggling softly. “I’ll see you two at breakfast then! G’night, Fred. G’night, George.” She nodded her head to each of them as she said their respective names. Turning around and practically running up the stairs toward Ravenclaw Tower, she could hear their wishes of a good night and pleasant dreams.

She soon had to slow her pace as she went up more stairs. Then some more.

And more.

And more.

And she is going to need to find a better way to get to her common room and dorms because there is no way she is ok with so many stairs just to go to bed every night. Let alone the amount of stairs in the rest of the castle.

When she eventually got to the top of the tower, the entrance asked her the simplest riddle she had ever heard. “What gets wetter the more it dries?” Without missing a beat, Rochelle responded with, “A towel!” The door opened, and she entered the Ravenclaw Common Room.

Like everything else in the castle she has seen, this too was exactly like Hogwarts Legacy. Having to go up more stairs just to get to the main common room, before having to go up more to find the first-year dorm on the girl’s side.

When she found it, she opened the door and saw her trunk at the foot of one of the beds. It would seem that the first-year girls are split into two rooms, as there are only a total of three beds. Her roommates were awake, sitting on their own beds. They looked like they were talking before she opened the door, but now they just looked at her as she entered.

Padma Patil and Morag MacDougal met her gaze, and she smiled warmly at them. “Sorry to interrupt, and sorry I’m late. I got a bit lost.” She made her way to her trunk, crouching down and placing her book on the floor next to her. She opened her trunk and began looking for her PJs and toiletries to get ready for bed.

Morag spoke first. “It’s alright. Why did you disappear like that? We just saw you getting taken away by one of the professors.” Her voice was soft, but she spoke with confidence. Her hair was in a messy bun on the top of her head, and she wore a white nightgown.

Rochelle took out her dark blue silk PJs she had bought specifically because she hoped she would be placed in Ravenclaw. “That was Professor Snape, the Potions Master. We met at Draco’s party, and he agreed to meet with me after the feast today so I could ask for extra lessons. I kinda suck at potions, not gonna lie. I also don’t want to have to rely on anyone else’s notes to pass.” She rose from her feet and faced the two girls with a smile.

”I forgot about that. You are the girl Pansy Parkinson made a fuss about, aren’t you? The one who can change her hair color?” Padma smiled brightly as she spoke. “Can you show us?” She had on a pink nightgown, and her hair was down, still in the style it was in at the sorting and feast.

Rochelle giggled softly and nodded her head. “Names Rochelle McCullen. And you’re Padma Patil and Morag MacDougal, right? Let me change and get ready for bed, and I'll show you that trick. I can also change the color of other things.” She said this as she made her eyes bright blue, and with a blink, they were back to dark hazel.

Padma gasped at seeing her eyes change and nodded her head excitedly. “Go change! I wanna see more!” And with that, Rochelle went into the bathroom with her PJs and toiletries. She changed her clothes, brushed her teeth, and looked at her hair item that she sleeps in.

She had bought a silk bonnet, which took forever to find one that was of as good of quality as the one she was used to having before. She takes her hair care very seriously. Since her new roommates wanted to see her change hair color and probably get a kick out of how she could change the texture and length too, she simply left the bonnet in the bathroom and walked back out with a smile.

She was right, as most of the night before they were forced to go to bed by the prefect, they spent time with the two girls asking Rochelle to change various things about her appearance, and they seemed to find it really cool.

When they were told to quiet down and go to bed, they just put out the lights and continued talking and getting to know each other. Rochelle discovered that her similarities with Morag consist of a love for the arts. She is an artist and a piano prodigy, which sadly Rochelle can't relate to as she is a percussionist and has absolutely no skill in piano.

She has less in common with Padma, as she is actually a lot like Hermione. She likes studying all areas of knowledge and spends her free time when not studying, reading storybooks. Unfortunately, all the storybooks Rochelle likes haven't been written yet, so she can't relate to her or offer any recommendations. Receiving recommendations, however, is something she is more than happy to do. She doesn't think she will have time to read anything, but she is willing to try.

The next morning, Rochelle, Padma, and Morag walked down to breakfast together in the early morning, around seven. Which is uncomfortably early for Rochelle, as she is not a morning person.

By the time 7:30 rolled around and breakfast was comfortably underway, Rochelle looked over the Slytherin table and noticed her friends still not there. So, she quickly finished her oatmeal, fruit, and toast and excused herself from her roommates.

She made her way out of the Great Hall and down the same way she took to Snape's office. Except instead of turning left at the bottom of the stairs, she took a right. She passed the bathrooms, slowing as she looked at the girl’s bathroom.

In the book, Moaning Myrtle's bathroom is on the second floor. In Hogwarts Legacy, it's right here, in the dungeon. She made a mental note to look for the bathroom another time and kept walking through the halls until she came to a stretch of blank wall.

Just as she approached the wall and started trying to figure out how to get it open when she didn't have a password, a large snake lifted from the ground, making a large arch. A door suddenly appeared in the arch, and a few students clad in green uniforms exited from it. She beamed to herself since she was right in her memory of where the Slytherin common room is.

Rochelle walked up to the door and students and stopped a girl who looked a bit older. “Excuse me. Would you mind getting my friends for me? Or I could wake them up myself if it's too much of a hassle for you.”

The girl smiled at her. Strange for a Slytherin talking to a strange first year in a different house. “Oh sure, I don't mind. Who are your friends?”

“Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Ophelia Alexander. If they're awake, would you mind just telling them I'm outside?” Rochelle asked hopefully. This girl seemed nice enough so far.

She nodded her head and looked at her friends. “I'll be back. Head on without me.” As she turned to leave, Rochelle caught sight of a badge on her chest. No wonder she was being so nice, she was the Slytherin girl Prefect. Helping the younger years is kinda her job.

It didn't take long for the Prefect to come back out with all her friends. Draco was the first to speak as Blaise visibly held back a yawn. “It seems like you weren't joking when you threatened to come get us. How exactly do you know where Slytherin is?”

Rochelle was about to respond when Blaise spoke. “She's a seer, you twit. She knows too much. Stop being surprised.” He walked up to her and hooked his arm with hers so they were side by side.

"Little Seer or not, you're now my personal map of the castle. Congratulations on the promotion,” Ophelia quips, taking Rochelle's other side, falling into step with them as they begin to walk.

Rochelle giggles at the promotion she was given by her sudden new friend. Oh, how little she knew that there was a literal map of Hogwarts in the backpack that adorned Rochelle's back. Draco walked on the other side of Blaise and had an annoyed expression. Why was he annoyed? He has other friends he could walk with if he didn't like Rochelle and hers. 

They could talk about it later as Rochelle led the group back to the Great Hall and to the Slytherin table. Blaise and Draco sat on one side while Rochelle and Ophelia sat on the other with their backs facing the Ravenclaw table. Since she had already eaten, she simply sat and chatted with them about what they were looking forward to when it came to classes.

It didn't take long into their discussion for their heads of house to pass out their schedules. Snape walked down the Slytherin table, handing out schedules to the first years, having passed off most of them to the prefects to hand out. When he got to Rochelle's little group, he glared down at the Ravenclaw amongst the snakes.

“I believe you are at the wrong table. You will not be getting your schedule here. Promptly vacate where you don't belong.” Snape drawled with a slight quirk in his lip. 

Wow. Snape being a dick to Rochelle was becoming a theme. It would seem she's gonna need to keep up the theme by being a snotty brat right back at him. Here's hoping taking house points from her wasn't in the theme, too.

“Oh, sure. I'll just get my schedule from Professor Flitwick when I see him coming this way. I think I belong right next to my friends, but thank you for being so concerned, Professor.” She smiled up at him, amused.

Snape hummed in discontent before handing schedules to Draco, Blaise, and Ophelia. When handing the schedule to the girl, he said, “I would suggest you don't get too attached to that one. The other two are too far gone, but you may be saved yet.”

"Thank you, Professor, for oh-so clearly caring about my social life. But I think I'm a fairly good judge of character, thank you." Ophelia snatched the paper and turned her shoulder, drawing out the last words with her sarcastic snip.

Snape sneered at the Slytherin girl and looked down his nose at her. “It would seem you, too, are beyond help. Birds of an infuriating feather.” He didn’t spare them another glance before continuing down the table and handing out schedules.

Rochelle smiled at Ophelia warmly. It was a surprise to find such a fast friend who shares the same sarcastic and snarky attitude as she does. A very welcome surprise, that's for sure. Here’s hoping this is a lasting friendship, as the events to follow in the coming years will definitely test everyone’s bonds.

Moments later, Rochelle managed to get her schedule from Professor Flitwick and immediately began comparing hers with her friends. “Seriously!? You lucky fucking ducks! You have a free first period on a Monday!? Meanwhile, I’m stuck in charms with the Gryffindors.” She groaned and slumped her head onto the table in front of her.

Draco scoffed at her dramatics. “You’ve already mastered charms. It will be an easy O for you. Practically a free period yourself, except for the downside of spending it with Gryffindors.” He smirks at her with a petulant look dancing across his expression. “Will you truly miss my radiant presence that much?”

Rochelle lifts her head with a grumpy pout. “Oh, har har, very funny. First of all, of course, I'll miss you. Second of all, I’m actually worried about standing out because it's too easy. Third of all, not all Gryffindors are bad. I’ll have Harry and Neville there, and Hermione too, if she is willing to be friendly. Ron can go suck a Boobertuber for all the shits I give. What I'm most jealous of is that you all get to do what you want while I have to watch the disaster that is Seamus Finnigan blow up anything he seems to touch while I'm trying to act like I’m a noob.”

Blaise tilted his head as his brows crashed together. “Hermione, Ron, are they the ones in Potter’s compartment on the train when we went to retrieve you? Didn’t you make fun of Ron's name or something?” He giggled a bit, seemingly having remembered the interaction.

Rolling her eyes and groaning dramatically, Rochelle put her schedule into her backpack. “Yeah, that's them. Hermione’s alright, if a bit bossy. Definitely would have been a Ravenclaw if it weren’t for her admiration for old Dumbles. Ron’s a bit of a, what did you call Draco earlier? Right, a twit, but once you get to know him, he’s pretty cool, I guess.”

She kept her hands in her backpack as she spoke, looking into it and opening her map in search of the charms classroom. She didn’t seem to find it, so she sighed and closed her backpack. “I’m gonna head to class early with the other Ravenclaws. I’ll see you all in History of Magic and Herbology?”

With confirmation that they will meet up later, Rochelle said her goodbyes and looked around, seeing her yearmates in Ravenclaw already leaving the Great Hall. She ran to catch up while throwing her backpack over one of her shoulders. It was easy to walk in step with the group, even if she wasn’t walking next to anyone in particular. Luckily, someone knew where they were going, as they didn’t get lost once.

On the walk, Rochelle worked to remember the events of Gryffindor's first charms lesson. The first class wasn’t explicitly stated. And the first class that is explained in detail is the one on Halloween when Ron is a dick to Hermione. So she had no idea what to expect. It was a bit exciting. The idea of being able to cast magic in a classroom setting and watching others cast magic. Maybe this wouldn’t be as boring as she first expected.

Chapter Text

The group walked out of the Great Hall and all the way outside into the courtyard. Following the group's lead, they took a left through one of the courtyard archways and down five sets of stairs of varying sizes. Eventually, they came to a bridge that overlooked the Black Lake to the right, and the cavernous expanse that separated the two main buildings of the school on the left.

Across the bridge, the group went through a large wooden door and entered a space littered with many staircases. The staircase up to Ravenclaw tower was on the left, and the staircase up to Gryffindor tower was on the right. Going down the stairs between the two, the group made a sharp left through a normally sized door that led out to yet another bridge. Slowly, Rochelle was beginning to get annoyed at how many stairs, doors, and bridges were in this school.

Once through the door on the other side of the second bridge, Rochelle was led up another four flights of stairs, two to get to each new floor. Luckily, the classroom was just to the left upon reaching the top of the stairs. Her lungs began to hurt as she forced herself not to huff and puff from the involuntary workout.

Upon entering the classroom, Rochelle took note that there was only one student in the room: Hermione. She was sitting on the far side of the room from the door in the front row, smack in the middle of the room. The other Ravenclaws start filing in on the side of the room opposite Hermione. With a glance at her roommates, she waves and walks over to Hermione.

The bushy-haired girl looked at her with bewilderment for a moment, while Rochelle just smiled at her warmly. “Hello. Hermione right? Is it alright if I call you Hermione, or would you prefer Granger?” She doesn’t make any effort to sit down as she expects the houses will be sitting separately and thus will stand out if she sits with the Gryffindors.

Hermione shook her head and smiled kindly. “I don’t mind Hermione, as long as it is alright that I call you Rochelle.” She said while lifting her chin to give an air of confidence.

Smiling brighter, Rochelle giggled a bit. “I was actually going to insist on that. I prefer people to call me by my given name. I’ve noticed people in the wizarding UK call people they are unfamiliar with by their last names and move to given names when they get closer. In America, it's more normal to just call everyone by their first name right off the bat.”

She glances at the time on the clock hanging on the wall. It’s 8:30, which means they have half an hour before class starts. So, she sits down anyway and takes her backpack off, reaching in and taking out a normal notebook and pencil case.

Hermione eyes her things, and her brow furrows ever so slightly. “Are you Muggleborn as well? I can’t help but notice you have a paper notebook and a pencil case. I didn’t bring any as I had assumed we were only allowed parchment and a quill.”

Rochelle smiled at her and shook her head. “No, I'm pure blood. I’m fascinated by muggles, so when I lived across the pond, I self-studied them. Muggle stationary is so much easier and more comfortable to use in my humble opinion.”

She pauses and opens her pencil case, grabbing a pencil and holding it out to Hermione. “Do you wanna borrow one? I’d assume you're more familiar with it, seeing as you seem to be a muggleborn.”

Hermione shook her head. “Oh no, that's quite alright. I find the fact that wixen use a quill and parchment to be fascinating! As they were on the supply list, one would assume it is required, especially for homework. Will you be alright using paper?” She looked at Rochelle’s supplies with concern.

”I’m sure I’ll be alright for taking notes. Parchment would have to be required for essays and possibly homework, as they assign that using feet. Can’t measure the length of an essay if it's on paper, right?” Rochelle explained. “Maybe we can meet up sometime later this week to study together? My day today is booked. Maybe the free period tomorrow before dinner?”

Hermione beamed at her and nodded her head. “That sounds wonderful! I’ll meet you in the library tomorrow then!” Her buck teeth were on full display in her joy. Rochelle always found buck teeth to be kinda cute, like a bunny’s teeth. So seeing Hermione smile so brightly just made Rochelle inwardly coo about how cute her smile was.

The room slowly started being filled with students, Gryffindor finally trickling in. Rochelle looked around and spotted the clock, and noticed it was only ten minutes before class would begin. She looked back at Hermione and said, “I think I better get back to the Ravenclaw side. I’d stand out if a bird sat amongst the lions. I’ll see you later, Hermione!” She stood back up, gathering her things, and began walking across the room. Hermione simply waved with a small goodbye of her own.

Rochelle takes a seat next to Terry Boot with a brief reminder that they are distantly related via adoption. Family, she isn’t actually related to. She exchanged brief hellos with the boy, figuring he didn’t know they were distant relatives and deciding to keep quiet about it.

She situates herself by opening her notebook and dating it in the top right corner of the page. She then takes out some highlighters. She has no idea what to expect from the class, so she will treat it like one of her old college courses. Take notes during the intro to the class on everything she thinks she would forget.

Eventually, she looks up from her page to see Harry sitting with Ron and Neville while Hermione is sitting next to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. She smiled at Harry when their eyes met, and she waved happily, earning a wave from the boy in return.

Ron glares at her like she kicked his rat in front of him. Which, honestly, is something she would totally do to ol’ Pete if given the chance. He must be upset about her meeting with his brothers last night. That is, if he isn’t still upset that she befriended Harry first and stood up for Draco.

The dude needed to chill out, honestly. One trope she definitely did not want to check off is any of the ‘bashing’ ones. Well, maybe some ‘Dumbledore bashing’ would be alright. But ‘Ron bashing’ or any of the other kids her age? Not happening on her watch.

Soon, Professor Flitwick walked into the room and onto a chair that held a stack of books. Everyone stopped talking and looked at the half-goblin in mostly restrained curiosity. “Hello and welcome! Welcome to Charms! I am Professor Flitwick. Please raise your hand and say ‘here’ when I call your name.” He unrolled some parchment and flattened it out on the desk in front of him. “Azara, Calix?”

A boy's voice from behind Rochelle called out a soft “here,” and Professor Flitwick continued. “Boot, Terry? Brocklehurst, Mandy? Brown, Lavender?” And so on and so forth.

He called all of the students names in alphabetical order, regardless of house. When he got to Harry’s name, Flitwick gave an excited and surprised little squeaking sound, jumping so much that he fell off the chair, out of sight behind the desk.

Instantly, and without thinking, Rochelle jumped out of her seat and ran to the Professor. “Professor, are you alright?” She said as she rounded the desk, and upon seeing the man on the floor, she crouched down.

She grabbed him by the arm, one hand on his elbow, the other grabbing his hand and allowing him to put his weight in her hands. When she stood back up, she saw that none of the other students had even remotely moved from their seats.

Was she the weird one for instantly acting? Nah, they had to be the weird ones. What kind of person doesn’t try and help when they see someone fall down? Rude people, that’s who.

Flitwick gratefully accepted her help, standing back up and smiling at her. “Why, thank you, Miss McCullen. I’m quite alright. 15 points to Ravenclaw for your care and assistance. You may take your seat now.”

He let go of Rochelle and jumped back onto the books and chair to continue roll call. Eyeing the precarious stack of books, Rochelle made a mental note to somehow get him a proper footstool so he is less likely to fall. She then followed directions and retook her seat as the Professor continued calling names.

Once he was done, Flitwick began the introduction to the class. “Charm is one of the main categorizations of magic. It is when you add properties to or alter the behavior of an object or individual without changing its inherent nature. Now, how many of you have seen your parents or family use charms around the house?”

Most of the hands in the room went up.

“Wonderful! How many of those charms were not for household uses?”

Fewer hands went up.

“Ah-ha! Charms are extremely versatile. You can charm a kitchen to make you dinner, or expel a foe's wand from their hand in a duel. Even the most basic charms can be used to save your life if needed, such as the one we will be learning today: Lumos. Who can tell me what the Lumos charm does?”

Several hands shot up, including Rochelle’s, but Hermione was called on as she was by far the most eager to answer. “The Lumos charm creates light, typically at the end of the caster’s wand.” She beamed up at the professor as he commended her for a correct answer.

”Yes! Well done, Miss Granger. Lumos itself is one of the most simple of charms, but cast it bright enough and you can blind your enemies. Today, we will be learning how to cast Lumos, as well as its counter-charm, Nox. Wands out and follow my lead!”

Everyone got their wands out. The professor demonstrated how to cast both Lumos and Nox, and everyone began to practice.

Rochelle kept her mouth shut, only practicing the wand movements while her eyes watched the other students. She knew the moment she muttered the incantations, her magic would follow, and she would instantly cast the spells without fail.

She didn’t want to stand out. She knew some pure blood children were taught this spell before arriving at school, if they're lucky. But she didn't want to be one of those kids. Her eyes land on Harry, and he is already looking at her. 

She smiled at him, and he lifted his brows, tilted his head, and gestured to his wand, then nodded his head toward her. She tilted her head in confusion before it clicked that he was asking if she could already do it.

She nodded her head, and he gestured again to her, asking her to do it. She simply held her wand in front of her face and quickly whispered “Lumos, Nox,” which caused the tip of her wand to flicker for a mere moment before going back out.

She smirked at Harry, but was startled by a voice only a few feet to her right. “Wonderful, Miss McCullen! 15 points to Ravenclaw for being able to cast both the charm and its counter so quickly!” Her head whipped toward the professor, who was beaming at her. She smiled sheepishly and glanced back at Harry, who was smiling and visibly biting back a laugh.

Seamus Finnigan whined loudly, “What? But I didn’t see anything!” A number of other students also expressed their disbelief that she had cast it less than a minute after the class began practicing.

She shrinks in her seat a bit. She hates the spotlight. She acts extroverted and friendly, but she really hates being the center of attention. So much for not standing out because the class is easy.

Relenting, Flitwick turned to Rochelle and sighed. “Would you mind demonstrating for the class?” To which, of course, Rochelle nodded and took a breath to try and act like the extrovert she wasn’t.

Confidently casting the spell, letting it stay lit for a few moments before casting its counter, and she braced herself for reactions. A couple of the students oo’d and ah’d, which was a bit much to be honest. She looked over the students and saw Harry sitting proudly. Why was he proud? Was he proud of her being able to cast? He should be trying to cast it himself and then be proud when he succeeds.

After that, Flitwick tells the class to keep practicing, and a few of those in her house around her who were struggling asked Rochelle for her help. She tried to help, but it became very clear she wasn’t a very good teacher.

She tried explaining the visualized magic, but she just got strange looks. Then she tried describing the warmth of how magic feels, which more people understood, but it still didn’t work.

She finally succeeded when she explained that magic is about 85-90% intent, “so I guess, feel the magic and think about how much you want light? Like, say Lumos while thinking ‘this is going to light up my wand’ with confidence, ya know?” To her surprise, that helped a lot of her peers to succeed.

By the time class ended, the students who were still struggling from her house asked her to help them later in the common room. She agreed with a surprised smile. She didn't expect so many people to ask for her help.

She was so used to her peers pretty much ignoring her, even if she excelled in an area. It just wasn’t normalized where she came from to ask your peers for help. Well, now she was in the house of the studious, so it should be expected that the house studies together and helps each other.

She tells those who seem to expect her to walk with them to their next class to go on without her. They agree and leave while she walks up to Flitwick. “Professor? Can I have a word?”

The professor turns to her and smiles brightly. “Of course! What is it you need?” He said with a joyous tone in his voice.

She smiled in return before continuing. “So, this is kinda strange to claim, but I’m already proficient in most spells and charms. After I cast my first spell, I haven’t failed once since, no matter what spell I’ve tried. It just comes naturally to me, and honestly, it feels like I'm cheating. I’d like to ask that, if you can, please don’t bring attention to me casting like today? I don’t like standing out, and since I'm probably gonna be the first to cast a new spell we learn every time, I’d like to politely ask to be ignored.”

Flitwick's face fell the more she spoke. When she finished, he looked away in thought for a few moments before his response. “That is a bold claim you’ve made. To be a prodigy is one thing, but to claim proficiency to that extent is hard to believe. Meet me in my office after dinner. I’d like to test your claim. If you prove yourself, I will believe you and adhere to your request. Additionally, I will alter your grading. Instead of the part of participation dictated by practice in class, you will be expected to help your classmates. Does that sound like a fair alternative?” He met her eyes again.

Rochelle beamed at the pint-sized professor and nodded her head eagerly. “Yes! Of course! That sounds perfect! Thank you so much, Professor Flitwick!” She then turned to leave the class.

She waved happily and called out, “I’ll see you after dinner then, Professor!” And ran out of the classroom, missing the amused smile painting the man's face.

Upon exiting the classroom, she was met with three unexpected faces. Well, two of them weren’t that much of a surprise, but one of them was. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were waiting for her.

She jogged up to them with a smile. “Hey, guys. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on your way to History?” Harry and Hermione returned her smile, and she decidedly ignored Ron’s glare.

Harry was the first to speak as he said, “I wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked uncharacteristically sheepish back there.” He smirked teasingly, but his eyes showed the sincerity of his words.

Hermione blushed a bit in embarrassment when Rochelle looked at her for her answer. “I was…I was hoping we could walk to class together.” Aw, how cute! Baby’s first friend! Proud parental instincts welled up in Rochelle's chest.

She simply walked up to Hermione’s side and linked their arms together. “Of course we can.” She looked at Harry. “And I’m fine. I just hate being the center of attention, which I know you relate to. And it’s kinda your fault that happened so-“ she stuck her tongue out at him and began walking with Hermione, causing Harry to follow while laughing and Ron to follow after Harry.

Ron scoffed. “How is it Harry’s fault? He wasn’t the one showing off. That was you.”

Rochelle was about to explain when Harry stepped in to defend her, again. “Actually, it is. I asked her if she could and to show me when she said she could. I didn’t expect the Professor to award her points for it.”

Hermione quickly jumped into the conversation. “How exactly were you able to cast so quickly? Do you have prior experience with the spell? I thought casting magic outside of school was illegal.”

Rochelle shrugged. “Honestly, that was my first time with that specific spell. It just feels so natural to cast magic that, regardless of the spell, I never fizzle. No idea why, but the Trace hasn't seemed to be in effect for me. I’ve been casting since the day I got my wand and have yet to be arrested or even notified by the Ministry.”

Just as it seemed like the trio was going to bombard her with questions, she saw her Slytherin friends further down the hall. She smiled at the trio and unlinked her arm with Hermione, glad for the escape excuse.

“I promised my other friends I’d sit with them in History. See ya!” Then she ran off, jumping onto Blaise and Draco as she slung her arms over their shoulders with a loud “Boo!” Which caused Blaise to jump and Draco to yelp before scolding her not to scare him like that. Blaise and Ophelia laughed at his misery while they all made their way into the History of Magic classroom. Time to be bored to death being lectured by a ghost about too many goblin wars and rebellions.

After the most boring class in existence, Rochelle walked with her Slytherin friends to Herbology. The entire class was spent on safety measures and what to expect in the class. It was also explained how the overlapping double Herbology periods on Tuesdays will work.

Essentially, the whole year has two Herbology periods back to back, with one of them being at the same time. The Ravenclaw/Slytherin class will have a lecture for one whole period. The second period will be practical gardening, being overseen by Professor Sprout.

The Gryffindor/Hufflepuff class starts their double period with the same practical gardening, with their second Herbology period after lunch being the lecture. This allows Professor Sprout to jump between two greenhouses to monitor all the children.

Honestly, the whole explanation just made Rochelle wonder why the hell there wasn’t more than one Professor for each subject. Loading one person with seven different grades is torturous. Add on the stress of being head of house for Sprout, Flitwick, and Snape, then double it with McGonagall since she is a house head and Deputy Headmistress. It’s just fucking insane!

Here’s hoping they get paid well, because that's way too much on one person. Maybe Rochelle can talk to Lucius about bringing up the topic of more staff to the school board while he’s still on it?

Regardless of how annoying the lack of staffing was, Rochelle let it roll off her shoulders as she walked to lunch with her friends. When finally seated at the Slytherin table, Blaise asked her what the meeting with Snape was about.

“I just warned him not to bully Harry or else. See, Professor Snape hated Harry’s dad when they went to Hogwarts together. Harry looks almost identical to his dad, so I wanted to make sure your esteemed head of house wasn’t taking his frustrations toward a deceased adult out on a child who hadn’t done shit to him. You have Potions next, right? Mind keeping an eye out for excessively harsh words or anything like that? I know that's Professor Snape’s whole demeanor with everyone, but like, tell me if he’s targeting Harry?”

Draco instantly sat up straighter and leaned in closer. “Did he do that?” He didn't elaborate on his question, and he didn't need to. Rochelle nodded, and Draco took a sharp breath before nodding his head. “I’ll keep an eye out and let you know.”

Rochelle smiled fondly at the blonde boy. “Thanks, Dray. Oh! And here!” She reached into her backpack and pulled out a folded piece of paper from one of the smaller pockets in the front. She held it out toward Draco. “Can you slip this to Harry and say it's from me? It’s just in case the Professor doesn’t keep his promise and decides to target him at the beginning of class.”

Draco took the page and opened it, as it wasn’t sealed. It read:

Memorize these questions and answers. Don’t look at this paper while answering them if Professor Snape asks.

Q: What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?

A: A sleeping potion called the Draught of Living Death.

Q: Where would you look to find a bezoar?

A: The stomach of a goat.

Extra: It is a stone that will save someone from most poisons.

Q: What’s the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?

A: They’re the same plant.

Extra: It is also called Aconite.

If asked how you know, just say something about being so excited to learn potions, you read ahead, and happened to remember all that. Draco’s wicked good at potions, so if you ever need help, go to him. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to tutor you.

Rochelle saw a blush spread across Draco’s face and smirked into her glass of water. She tried pumpkin juice, and she wasn’t a fan, so it would be a steady intake of water for her at meals. That is, until she can get into the kitchens and convince the elves to serve American food and drink.

Lunch passed by quickly, and Rochelle was off to DADA with Quirrell-Mort and the Hufflepuffs. She managed to snag a seat near the middle of the class. There were three children at a desk, and two rows of desks.

She sat in the aisle seat, and on her right sat her roommates, Padma and Morag. Across the aisle on her left sat Hannah, Susan, and Megan Jones.

As expected based on what she remembered from the book, the room smelled strongly of garlic. More than likely to mask the smell of Quirrell’s decaying body since he’s kinda half-dead already.

He mentioned his turban with a shitty cover story about it being a gift from some African prince for some probably false act of heroics. The lesson was sadly lacking, which was to be expected, but that didn’t make it any less disappointing.

It was looking like self-study would carry everyone in this school.

It’s a good thing Rochelle had already set up to study with Hermione. Having the highest-scoring student as a tutor in your back pocket was like a cheat code.

Once class was over, everyone as a whole switched classes. In the hallway, Rochelle passed by Harry and Ron—Hermione wasn’t with them—and Harry held up the piece of paper she had given to Draco, mouthing a ‘Thank you’ as he walked by. It seemed like Snape still targeted Harry after all.

Technically, their first potions class was supposed to be a double period on Friday, as it was stated in the book. However, it wasn’t that surprising that the schedule was different since what was actually stated in the book made no fucking sense, so a more realistic schedule would have to be different.

A bit further down the hall, Rochelle crossed paths with Draco, who was walking with Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Blaise. He stopped momentarily to say into her ear. “He went right for him. Same questions that were in your note. You should have seen his face when Harry answered correctly.”

Rochelle just smiled at him and responded softly. “You’ll have to share the memory with me when we have the time. I know where we can probably use a Pensive.” And just like that, Draco was rather rudely dragged away by Nott. Blaise cast her an apologetic look, but she just smiled and waved it off before continuing her journey to her potions class.

Practically skipping into the room, Rochelle sent Snape a smile. However, her eyes held a warning venom. A knowing mirth. She wanted it to be unimaginably clear that she knew he didn't keep his promise. He said he would put aside his prejudices and treat Harry like any other student. He wouldn’t have given that pop quiz if he actually followed through and kept his word.

Sitting down at a work station next to a Ravenclaw boy, she briefly remembered his name to be Yoru Denver, one of the names she had to write down during the sorting. She retrieved all of her potions supplies from her backpack and set them up as well as she believed she could. She had seen Draco set up his potions kit many times back at the Manor, and tried to replicate that.

Soon, the class began, and Snape waved his wand. The door snapped closed, startling most of the students. He began roll call just as the other teachers did, and once done, he did the same speech the book said Harry had experienced.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death, if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

Did he have a script memorized?

That was word-for-word, copy and paste, from the book. Which meant it was exactly what he had said in Harry’s class. Even the movie had shortened it down and changed or added some words.

Then suddenly, he said what Rochelle was definitely not expecting. “McCullen! What would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?”

Holy shit! He was pop-quizzing Rochelle! Just like Harry!

Oh, this was hilarious. She had to bite back a literal fit of giggles. Unfortunately, a smile still formed on her face enough that Snape caught it. “You think that’s funny, do you?”

Rochelle took a breath, but couldn’t help her smile as she beamed up at the professor. “A bit, yeah. You’d get the Draught of Living Death. A sleeping potion so strong it mimics the appearance of death, which allows the drinker to mime a corpse.” Snape glared at her harshly while she had to hold back more giggling.

He reluctantly said, “Correct.” Then snapped his next question. “Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Rochelle took a visible deep breath in before letting out a shaky one, trying very hard not to laugh. “A bezoar is a stone found in the stomach of a goat that can nullify most poisons. It’s in every potionere and mediwitch’s best interest to have one or two on hand at all times.” 

Snape sneered at her, his gaze burning with frustration. “Correct again. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?” His voice held a burning heat, like he was angry to ask the question.

Rochelle took another breath, this time taking longer before answering as she searched her mind for more information to tack on, just to piss him off more.

“They’re the same thing, also known as Aconite. It is also the key ingredient in the Wolfsbane Potion. This potion was created by Damocles Belby around 1980, give or take a few years. It is a difficult and expensive brew that helps werewolves retain their human minds after transforming during the full moon, but it’s not a cure. If I’m not mistaken, you have notes to improve on Belby’s recipe, don’t you, Professor?”

She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands, tilting her head as she smiled innocently up at the now furious professor.

Through gritted teeth, Snape hissed out, “Stay after class, Miss McCullen. And 5 points from Ravenclaw for your cheek.” Oh wow, that's 4 more than he took from Harry for some cheek. Snape must be really mad with her.

Too bad she honestly couldn’t give less of a fuck.

She was too busy trying not to laugh like a crazy person. It took everything she had in her not to say something about how more information than he asked for isn’t cheeky. And how, if anything, he should be rewarding her points for her knowledge.

The class continued as expected, with each pair brewing a simple potion to cure boils. Rochelle and Yoru worked well together. They split up the tasks as Rochelle prepared the ingredients and maintained a clean workspace while Yoru read the instructions and stirred the brew.

Snape swept around the room and seemed to try his damned hardest to find something wrong with Rochelle’s potion, but when he tried to criticize the amount of dried nettles or the consistency of the crushed snake fangs, she would simply read that part of the instructions out loud and loudly check her work. She would be right, and he would be forced through public shaming to reluctantly say he was simply testing her to see if she was truly paying attention.

The two Ravenclaws ended up making the perfect potion, and there were no accidents in the class. There was nothing Snape could find as a reason to deduct more points from Rochelle, as she knew he had done to Harry.

The class ended, the students cleaned up and packed their kits, and all began leaving the room. Except, of course, little Miss Rochelle. She obediently stood from her seat with her backpack secure on her back. She smiled up at Snape and walked up closer. Once the two were completely alone, Snape began to tear into her. “How exactly did you know all of that? Especially about my Wolfsbane notes.”

Rochelle kept smiling, undeterred. “The same way I know everything else about you. I also happen to know you didn’t keep your promise about Harry. Did you really think Draco wouldn’t tell me you pop-quizzed Harry in class and tried to make fun of him for his fame? I can get wanting to pick on me cause I’ve been a brat toward you, but really? You’re an adult, Severus Snape. You need to act like it.”

That made Snape fume even more, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, she continued. “Give back the 5 points you deduced, and I’ll give you a glimpse into your future with your Wolfsbane experiments.”

That caught his attention. He was still furious, but he paused. He thought. Then, he nodded his head. “Detail enough to expedite my experiments, and you’ve got a deal.”

Rochelle thought for a moment, searching the information she had on his new version of the potion. She doesn’t know anything about the brewing process. All she knows is the effects and side effects of the finished product. And even then, that's based on expanded fanfic sources, not canon, so that information may not even be true.

She took a deep sigh before speaking. “I don’t know anything about the brewing process, but I can tell you what the end result’s effects and side effects will be. Is that good enough?”

Snape slowly nodded, so she gestured for him to reinstate the points. He rolled his eyes dramatically and said, “5 points to Ravenclaw for extended knowledge on Wolfsbane.”

Rochelle cheekily smirked and nodded in contentment. “Your finished new version will increase potency, so the individual only needs to take it once before the first night of the full moon, and it remains in effect for all three nights.

It will reduce pain by about 60% as well as decrease the normal associated tiredness, nausea, and irritability. It will also reduce the cost by about two-thirds. That’s because even though you're gonna use more expensive ingredients, it's balanced by a decreased amount of imbued magic.

You’re also gonna cut the brew time down by about 15 minutes. Unfortunately, the biggest drawback of your new potion is that it essentially acts as a sedative. That makes it dangerous for werewolves who don’t have a secure place to transform since it means they’re more vulnerable.”

There were a few moments of silence after she finished. Eventually, Snape asked. “How will I be able to finish without someone to test it?”

Rochelle shrugged nonchalantly. “No idea. Guess you’ll just have to wait another two years until you have someone to test it. That’s assuming the future stays intact. I’ll do my best not to mess it up too badly.” She stated this flippantly. Sharing something vague like that was fine, right?

Snape dismissed her and gave her a pass in case she was late to McGonagall’s class. Which she was surprised about, and grateful for, because even with her copy of the Marauder’s Map, she still got lost on her way there and was a few minutes late. She was saved a seat next to Ophelia and in front of Blaise and Draco. The two boys asked why she was late, and she said she would share later.

After she gave McGonagall the pass and was explained what she missed, she began trying to quickly catch up in her notes. She made sure everything was well organized with highlighters, underlines, and bold letters using a marker. When everyone was given a match and instructed on transfiguring it into a needle, it became abundantly clear how utterly shit Rochelle was at this subject.

She only managed to change the color of the match because she cheated using Colovaria. That cost her a house point since McGonagall heard her whisper. It didn’t go unnoticed that the Professor was mildly impressed she could use the spell, though.

Once she undid her cheat spell, she tried over and over, but ultimately was able to change jack diddly squat about her match. The only student able to succeed in their class was Ophelia, and boy was she smug about being better at school than a Ravenclaw. The teasing actually cheered the sullen, blue, and bronze-clad girl enough to properly enjoy the dinner that followed the class.

After dinner, Rochelle bid a goodnight to her friends before heading up to Professor Flitwick’s office. The test he gave her was rather in-depth. He tested her in both written theory and practical spell work.

She found the written theory a bit difficult, since obviously her studies when this was a fictional world were based solely on speculation and assumption rooted in logic. She passed the practical portion of the test with flying colors, even succeeding in all the N.E.W.T. Level charms Flitwick threw at her.

When the testing was over, Flitwick sat at his desk, which was adjusted to his height in his office, and graded her written test. Once he was done, he smiled at Rochelle.

“Your written assessment qualifies you as being able to pass your OWLs with at least an A, but you have potential for an EE or even an O with enough work. There are some areas that appear to be based on original experiments, as they don’t appear wrong, but they aren’t part of our curriculum. With scores like this, I have no problems with adhering to your request. Just be sure to pay close attention during the written portion of the class.”

Rochelle beamed at him and nodded her head enthusiastically. “Of course! Thank you so much, Professor Flitwick!” She was dismissed, and Rochelle practically skipped all the way up the thousands of stairs to the Ravenclaw Common Rooms.

Chapter Text

After arriving in the common room, many of her yearmates asked for help with Lumos. Rochelle obliged for about half an hour before saying they had until their next charms class on Friday to figure it out, so she retreated to her room. Luckily, her roommates weren’t in the room, which meant she had the chance to try something out.

After doing her nighttime routine, since she didn’t want to have to do it later, she hopped into her bed and drew the curtains closed. She took her special notebook out of her backpack and retrieved her wand. She then began flipping through her spells until she landed on the section of spells from the same fanfic she had found the Macbeth Curse.

She flipped a few more pages and found Speluca Secure. This is a non-canon spell that essentially locks curtains in place. Making them as solid as a wall, and unable to be unlocked by others like a door would. Add in a strong muffling charm, and one can talk freely and is unable to be interrupted.

This is perfect for when Rochelle wants to do some of the more questionable things she has planned. Especially when it comes to the runes for her notebook. That isn’t exactly the lightest of magics. It might even be illegal at some point if anyone ever finds out about it.

In the excited spirit of testing spells, Rochelle managed to cast Speluca Secure. She gently pushed on her curtains to test it and found them now rigid. She pushed harder and harder, but it wouldn’t budge.

Eventually, she banged as hard as she could on the curtains with her fist and cried out in pain, having seriously hurt her hand. Unfortunately, her room’s door opened at that exact moment, and Rochelle heard a voice. “Hello? Rochelle? Are you alright?”

As quickly as she could, Rochelle grabbed her wand and said “Finite Incantartum” and pulled open her curtains. Her gaze was met with both Padma’s and Morag’s concerned ones.

She smiled innocently at them and said, “Hey, guys! I’m perfectly fine. I was just testing out a charm. I’m alright though.” She waved her wand with a quick, “Locomotor,” on her curtains, and they all moved to their open position.

When she looked back at her roommates, they were eyeing her strangely. It would appear that they did not believe her that she was fine. That, or they were shocked at her spellcasting, as that seemed to be a common theme.

Eventually, they entered the room the rest of the way and closed the door before walking to their own beds. They seemed to take the stance of “not my circus, not my monkeys” and just moved on. They soon settled in and all three of them went to bed for the night.

The next day was rather uneventful. Rochelle spent breakfast with her Slytherin friends again. Then she went off to Potions to terrorize Snape some more. Surprisingly, he wasn’t as antagonistic this time and actually awarded her (well, actually her desk partner, but they shared a cauldron) two points for a job well done.

She was then off to the double Herbology lesson that was explained the previous day. Rochelle hated gardening, but the lecture portion was actually interesting. It was the ‘getting your hands in the dirt’ part she didn't like. She was right there next to Draco as he complained about getting dirty.

Lunch was only eventful when she was waved down by Harry. When she went over with her friends, he complained that she always sits at Slytherin and asked her to join them at Gryffindor today.

With a look at Blaise, Draco, and Ophelia, Blaise nodded his head even though she hadn't tried to say or indicate anything. “Right. Snakes aren’t welcome at the lion’s table. We shall see you in Transfiguration then.” And he led them away.

Draco sent Rochelle a longing look, and she couldn’t help but pout as he followed Blaise anyway. She knew he wanted to sit not only with her, but with Harry, so it was sad to see him not join them.

Almost reluctantly, Rochelle took a seat next to Harry and decidedly ignored Ron on Harry’s other side. Neville actually walked over and sat across from her, which was nice as he seemed more receptive to her than others at the table. The only other two as excited to see her as Harry were Fred and George.

“Well, if it isn’t our little birdie friend?” Said one of them as they took their sheets across the table on Neville’s left.

“Decided to ditch the snakes and slum it with us?” Said the other. He then pointed to himself, then his brother, and said, “Fred, George.” Which got a smile from Rochelle, a flabbergasted glare from Ron, and a simple look of shock from Harry.

”Thank you, Fred! Harry asked me to sit here for lunch, and Blaise thought y’all would be uncomfy with them sitting here, so they left.” She looked around at the food in front of her and smiled when she saw some ham and cheese sandwiches. She grabbed one of them and took a bite.

Ron scoffed. “Bloody right we don’t want them here. I’m still surprised someone like you is friends with Harry. Now you’re all chummy with my brothers?” He pouted into his plate piled high with god knows what.

”Can it, Bilius.” Rochelle snapped. “Nobody asked you. Keep talking crap to or about me, and I’ll start intentionally making your days worse. You’re Harry’s friend and Fred and George’s brother. That means you’re stuck with my existence for the foreseeable future. Get used to it, and quickly.” She took another bite of her sandwich.

Ron sputtered wordlessly while Fred and George began making fun of him for her use of his middle name. Lunch continued in good spirits for the most part, and eventually they all parted ways for their next class.

Rochelle still had absolutely no luck in Transfiguration and was nearly bored to death in DADA. Luckily, the whole grade had a free period next, which meant Rochelle could find her way to the Library to find Hermione as promised.

She walked in and began scouring the tables until she found the bushy-haired Gryffindor with not one, but two different books open, as well as a roll of parchment she was writing on. Sliding into the seat across from her, the Ravenclaw quietly said, “Hey, Hermione. Hope you didn't wait long.”

Hermione lifted her head and beamed at her before shaking her head. “Not at all. I actually just sat down.” She then looked at the things in front of her while Rochelle retrieved her notes from classes. “What subject did you want to start with?”

Rochelle looked at her gratefully and retrieved something from her pocket, placing it on the table. “I was hoping you could help me with Transfiguration. I asked Professor McGonagall if I could borrow a match to practice with. I completely suck at this.” She poked the matchstick with her finger, pouting at it with disappointment like it personally wronged her.

Nodding her head, Hermione closed her books and rolled up her parchment. “Alright. Only if you help me with Charms. I’ve already got the beginnings of Lumos, but I’m hoping to get a start on the next one we will learn on Friday.”

Rochelle smiled instantly and nodded her head. “Deal.”

She had no idea what charm was next, but for some reason, Hermione always knew what assignments they had coming up, so she must have asked the teachers already. Or maybe she read through the curriculum somehow?

Regardless, the two of them started diving into the intricacies and inner workings of basic transfiguration. When Rochelle finally managed to change the matchstick into metal, though it still looked like a match, she made so much noise that Madam Pince had to tell her to keep quiet. That caused her to apologize and put up as strong of a Muffliato as she could muster so it wouldn’t happen again.

Wednesday was much the same.

Herbology, Transfiguration, and Potions as her first three classes. Lunch spent with the Gryffindors. Free period in the library with Hermione. Then History of Magic and DADA before dinner.

After dinner, Rochelle excused herself from her friends and made her way to Snape's office for their first Occlumency lesson. She was never given a specific time, and she had Astronomy at midnight, so he was going to have to give her the lesson when she damn well pleased.

She entered the office and took a seat, despite it actually being empty. He must still be in the Great Hall.

She took this opportunity to practice more with that borrowed match from McGonagall. It only took about 15 more minutes before Snape burst into the room and got as far as sitting down at his desk before he registered that she was even there.

When his gaze landed on Rochelle, with her wand out, hovering over a match, he leveled her an annoyed glare. “Now what in Merlin’s name are you doing, Miss McCullen?” He drawled, sounding thoroughly done.

Rochelle simply put her match in her robe pocket, as well as her wand, and smiled at him. “You never gave me a specific time for our extracurricular lessons. So, I decided to practice while I waited for you. While waiting in your office may be rude, I figured it was better than having people wonder why I’m hanging around your office to begin with. Right?”

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep, exasperated breath. After a few more moments of silence, he stood up and walked over to his bookcase. He grabbed two books before walking back over and practically slamming them down on the desk in front of Rochelle.

“You will read these before our lesson on Saturday. Today will only consist of you flaunting whatever knowledge you already have.” He then whipped around the desk and took a seat again.

Lifting the books, Rochelle read the titles. One said Mysteries of the Mind: A Guide to Mind Magics, and the other said History of Mind Magic: Occlumency and Legilimency. She nodded her head before putting the books into her backpack and looking back at Snape.

“You want to know what I already know to get a gauge of where a good starting point is? You could just say that instead of being rude about it.” Snape leveled her a glare, but she ignored it.

Powering on, she dramatically cleared her throat in preparation for a long string of dialogue. “Occlumency is the art of protecting one's own mind from Legilimency, which is the invasion of someone else’s mind. There are natural Legilimens. However, learning how to cast the spell and control it is the most common way one becomes a Legilimens.

People can protect their minds in various ways. Walls are the most common defensive method, but there are also offensive methods. I’m remembering one instance where someone formed their shield by envisioning a knife or blade. Attack, parry, defend with steel.

I also remember one instance where someone created a maze to confuse intruders. There was also a castle-type of defense one time. Personally, my favorite one I’ve come across was a layered shield. Basically, putting up shields between specific memories so it fools the intruder into believing they’ve found what they want.

I think I’ll make mine a combination of my favorites, primarily a castle fortress, but if they break in, it will be a maze with bait memories. Do I have any of that wrong, Professor? I’m far from done, but I thought it best to express my understanding as thoroughly as possible.”

Snape stared at her for a few moments with an expression Rochelle couldn’t read. His eyes were a neutral size, not too big, not too narrow. His mouth was closed, but it looked like his teeth weren’t touching. Like his jaw wasn’t clenched the way it normally is in class.

It was hard to tell if he was intentionally keeping a neutral expression, or if he was surprised she knew that much, or surprised how utterly wrong she is, because that is still totally an option. Just because  most of the information she has is from fanfics doesn’t mean it’s not true, but it doesn’t mean it is true either. Tilting her head, Rochelle prompted him to speak. “Professor Snape? I don’t actually know how right I am unless you tell me.” 

Blinking a few times, Snape clenched his jaw again and cleared his throat. “Yes, right. So far, your understanding is adequate. How exactly do you know what another person’s shields are like? It is not general practice to share that type of sensitive information.” Surprisingly, his tone of voice was… intrigued. Not sharp or closed off like normal.

Smiling casually, Rochelle answered with the truth. “I read it. And I don’t mean from a physical book.” Fanfics aren’t physical books. She read all that from Ao3 and Google, mostly, so she isn’t lying at all.

Snape slowly nodded, thinking over her answer. “It would seem I am beginning to believe the ability you claim to have actually exists.” He then pinched the bridge of his nose again before wiping his hand down his face. “Continue.” He prompted, gesturing for Rochelle to go on.

”Of course it exists.” Even though it technically doesn’t. “Anywho, I think in order to start some rudimentary shields, you need to clear your mind and achieve an emotionless state. This can be achieved through meditation. I don’t think I’ll have an issue with that as I already know how to turn off my emotions and become detached on demand.”

Thanks, childhood trauma.

“Next, you have to create a mental barrier. That’s the part I’m most unsure about how to do, exactly. I know what end result I want, but I don’t know how to get there. Do I imagine literally placing each brick in my fortress? Do I imagine it poofing into existence? Rising from the ground? I don’t know.” At this point, she was less saying what she knows and more thinking out loud.

”Moving on. The key factors in Occlumency are willpower and emotional suppression. Personally, I don’t think my general emotions will be an issue. I’m more worried about my anxiety and stress, as that’s not something I’m able to easily control. I can manage the symptoms or notice when I need to remove myself from a situation, but my anxiety and stress triggers are harder to control. Unless I’m able to set up a basic shield around just my stress and anxiety to keep it away? That would be fantastic if I could do that.”

Rochelle smiled brightly at the idea of not having any daily stress or anxiety. She could be an extrovert, or actually be unapologetically herself instead of pretending. She wouldn’t feel shame or fear or give a damn about social norms outside of high society or rules. That sounded like heaven on earth.

Snape raised an eyebrow, his eyes scanning her face. Studying her. “Perhaps you won’t be needing those books after all. It would be ill-advised to literally bottle up your emotions the way you are describing. Occlusion of one’s emotions is not to hinder you from feeling them, it is to hinder others from perceiving them. It is possible to prevent yourself from experiencing emotions.

However, I refuse to teach that particular art, regardless of the amount of blackmail used against me. It is dangerous, and you would be wise to never consider doing such a thing. Am I quite clear?” Was that a touch of concern? Did Snape actually care? That may seem uncharacteristic, but thinking deeper about it, it makes sense he would be concerned. If this is fanon Snape and not canon Snape, then he would be a lot more caring than he lets on.

”Perfectly crystal, sir.” Rochelle replied. She still would try a temporary bottling for situations where she needs to keep a clear head. Maybe make a bottle with holes so she still has a functioning level of anxiety. But she isn’t stupid enough to ignore a warning like that. She inwardly promised never to bottle her emotions permanently.

“I’d also still like to read the books, if that’s alright. Mind magic isn’t part of Hogwarts’ curriculum, which means it’s not available in the library. And if it is, it would be in the restricted section. In that case, I highly doubt there would be any ‘how to’ books on it like these. Maybe just a passage here and there about what different mind magics are, but not in enough detail to be able to execute it. It’s better to read things you already know for review than skip out, assuming you already know it.”

Snape’s brows raised in what appeared to Rochelle as understanding. “I see. You are free to read them. In any event, I would like to expedite your practical lesson as I believe you have the capability to handle it.” Damn, that's insanely high praise. Especially with no insult tacked on.

“However, there is always the event in which I am wrong and you are a dunderhead like the rest of your year.” And there it is. Well kinda?

Isn’t that implying he no longer thinks she is a dunderhead? Well idn’t that sweet! Severus Snape, you big softy!

Rochelle beamed, sitting a bit straighter and nodding her head. “You got it! Do you want me to just shoot my shot and see if I miss?” Snape leveled her an annoyed and confused glare, seeming to already regret complimenting her.

Oops. Too much slang.

“I mean, should I clear my head, achieve an emotionless state, and try my best to create some kind of shield?” Her smile shrank to a more sheepish one as a blush crept onto her cheeks in shame.

Snape sighed and nodded his head. “I will test your shield three times before you leave. In addition to reading those books before Saturday, your homework will be to use the results of those tests to better form your shield.” He then began getting out some papers to work on while Rochelle did as she was instructed.

Rochelle nodded and closed her eyes. Taking her experience in first trying to learn magic into account, she started with visualization. She imagined a birds-eye view of what she wanted her fortress to look like.

What kind of castle should she make? An old one that’s literally built as a war stronghold? Or perhaps a large one, so the maze can be the halls of the castle? Almost instantly, Hogwarts appeared in her head.

That’s it. She would make her Occlumency shield in the form of Hogwarts. Her most secret of secrets and memories would go into the school’s many secret rooms.

She then focused on how she was feeling. She felt excited, nervous, happy, eager, pleased. She instantly, with practiced precision, forced herself to stop feeling by detaching her personal connection to what is causing those emotions. She was feeling those things about learning Occlumency.

Suddenly, she felt as though she wasn’t the one learning it. Of course, she was, but now it felt like someone else was taking it and she was just watching. She wasn’t involved. It had nothing to do with her. She was a background character. 

Maintaining that feeling of nothing, she focused back on her inner Hogwarts. She imagined reaching out to touch it and her hand going right through it. So, it wasn’t solid yet. She tried visualizing it as full-sized, not a birds-eye view. She imagined it rising from the ground, forming in almost the same way as Elsa made her ice castle in Frozen. She imagined reaching out to touch it again, and it was solid.

Redirecting her focus to identifying where her memories were, she imagined them to be books filling the Hogwarts Library. Each section was organized by the years of her life. The section closest to the door was the last few months, since she was transported here. She visualized skimming through the books and identifying which memories she wanted, and took them down from the shelf.

Momentarily, she contemplated the benefit of trying to hide them in the restricted section of the library. That would be too easy, though, so she took the memories from this life that alluded even remotely to her being from another universe and brought them to the Room of Requirement. Which, in her mind-Hogwarts, was a fixed door that only visually disappeared. You would only see it if you knew it was there. Rochelle smiled widely and opened her eyes. “I have the first shield I'd like tested, sir.”

Snape looked up from his work and sighed, clearly having expected more time before testing her. He stood up and retrieved his wand. Pointing it at Rochelle, he said, “Maintain eye contact with me. Legilimens.” He cast, and suddenly, Rochelle felt an immense pressure before it cracked into a splitting headache. She tried her best to not only keep her castle intact, but also keep her eyes open so she didn't interrupt the test.

Snape appeared in her mind-Hogwarts with a mental image of Rochelle standing next to him. There was no resistance to getting in, but she could feel the resistance to Snape's very presence in her mind.

He looked around and scoffed. “How very creative. You’ve created a mindscape with no proper defenses. You call this ready?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, and the air within the mind-castle grew colder. His eyebrows shot up as he looked around and let his gaze land on the girl standing beside him.

Rochelle looked up at him and smiled warmly, but the coldness permeating the air of her mindscape showed her true emotions. She didn't appreciate his sarcasm or insult, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. “Why don’t you try searching for my memories then?” Said the mental image of the girl. “If you think I should just put up a shield before creating the foundations for the shield to rest upon, then I’ll try, but I disagree with that method.”

Humming a bit and huffing, Snape began walking around the castle, and Rochelle followed. He had appeared in the Entrance Hall, and now he walked toward Central Hall, straight to the library. When they entered, Snape looked around and began skimming the nearest shelves. 

He scoffed and seemed as though he was about to say something, when his brows crashed together in confusion. He skimmed more shelves and moved to the ones from her old life. He looked up at the name plates labeling each section and looked even more confused. He took one of the books off the shelf and began looking through it. “There’s nothing here.” He said in bewilderment.

Rochelle looked at the name of the book he was holding. This memory was from when she was 18 years old, meeting her roommate at college. A pleasant memory. Glancing at the insides, there were words on the pages, so Rochelle looked at him in confusion.

“Of course there’s something there. You're holding it. You're reading it.” She thought that, like the sorting hat, Snape would not even be able to see the memory books, but he seemed able to see and touch them. So, why is he saying there is nothing there?

Snape shook his head and put the book back quickly before grabbing another one and skimming through it. “No. These are memories. But I can’t view with them, it would seem. These pages are blank, as is the title of the book. You mean to tell me this memory has contents?”

He snapped the book closed, which caused Rochelle to wince. That freaking hurt! “I have never in my life heard of a blank memory.” He put the book back on the shelf. “Yet it would seem the majority of this library of yours consists of these blank memories.” He then walked back to her most recent memories and picked up the first book in the sequence.

Suddenly, the mindscape was filled with a recreation of Rochelle shopping in Diagon Alley, back when her mind was filled with a fog. As per her recollection, the memory was hazy and flooded with a harmless white fog.

Snape watched the memory with confusion and intrigue, having never seen anything like this before. He then closed the book, and the memory ended. He put it on the shelf and walked a bit further, taking another book and opening it. This was the memory of their first meeting at Draco’s birthday party.

He watched as Rochelle was led up to him by the Malfoys, and the girl's thoughts rang through the memory. “Okay. Black clothes, long black hair, dark eyes, hooked nose.” She then spoke aloud in the memory. “Professor Snape! It’s so nice to meet you!” “He doesn’t really shake people's hands, so curtsy it is.”

The memory continued, but with the added bonus of her inner monologue. When Narcissa said Snape was Draco’s godfather, and Rochelle’s face fell, her mind screamed, “Draco’s WHAT!?”

It then became entertaining as the words that rang out flip-flopped between being spoken and thought. “You- are Draco’s- godfather? I thought- you weren’t even friends with the Malfoys.- But that means- so many other things could be true.- Oh sweet Merlin, that- is going to cause so many issues!”

Then she said, “I see. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Snape,” and the memory ended on its own. It is intended that you pick up the next book to continue the memory. Unfortunately for Snape, that is one of the books she hid in the Room of Requirement.

When the two of them found themselves in the mind library again, Rochelle winced in pain again. It was becoming more and more painful having Snape in her head, so she tried pushing him out. Luckily for her, Snape began leaving of his own accord, and now the two were in the real Hogwarts again, sitting in Snape's office with his wand pointed at the girl.

He lowered it slowly and kept looking at her, so she kept looking back. Then quietly, Snape said, “That explains your odd behavior when we first met. Flustered that your ability failed you.”

Rochelle took a breath to recover from that experience before smiling at him again. “Not at all, sir. You forget that my ability is new and still being studied. How can it fail me if I’m still learning how it works? I was flustered, yes, but it was a valuable experience to learn better how it all works. I have a better handle on it now, thanks to that.”

After a few more moments of silence, Snape sat back down at his desk and said, “Work on strengthening the structure so it is no longer painful to house another mind. When you are satisfied with that, begin your initial shield to block entry entirely.” He then resumed his work, but he was still clearly distracted.

Tilting her head, Rochelle cleared her throat and regained his attention. “Sir, can you try explaining what you meant about blank memories? The sorting hat said something similar, actually. He could only see my memories from a few months ago, like you. That's why my sorting took so long, since he had to really criticize the stuff he had access to.” A white lie, but it's fine. “What exactly did you experience?”

Setting his quill down, Snape clasped his fingers together and stared at her. “It is clear to me that those memories exist. I could see what they were housed in; those books. I could even grasp them and flip through them. However, they were blank. I haven't an inkling as to what those memories are. I couldn’t even identify which section in the library they were in. I regret to inform you, I do not have the answer in this instance.”

Nodding her head, the girl took in this information. It was like the hat said; he couldn’t see her past life, because it was a past life. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t exist, hence him being able to see the books, yet not read them. This means nobody can see the memories, even if she were to try; nobody would be able to. She will never be able to tell someone she is from another universe and be able to prove it.

She will never be able to tell Draco.

She had wanted to get to the point where she could tell him everything, but that's no longer an option. Her face fell, and she didn’t even try hiding how disappointed and sad she was. She simply nodded her head again and looked back at Snape. “Thank you, Professor. I’ll get back to work now.”

While the girl resumed her Occlumency, Snape resumed his work too. The other two tests consisted of her initial wall to block him out utterly crumbling, but her castle got stronger and stronger.

With each time she skimmed her memories, she would find more she wanted to hide and split them throughout the castle's secret rooms. Primarily, the Room of Requirement, the Chamber of Secrets, and even finding the Undercroft from the game. All their entrances were altered to be accessible if you knew how to open them in the real world.

The lesson ended with Snape instructing her to continue working on building stronger shields and reading the books. Rochelle was dismissed, and she immediately left for the Astronomy Tower, despite it now being after curfew.

She walked right to the blank wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls to dance ballet, and walked back and forth thinking, “I want a place with a pensive” three times. A door appeared, and Rochelle successfully used the Room of Requirement for the first time.

Upon entering, she saw a comfy room with a pensive in the middle. The room was padded and quiet; properly sound-dampening. It would seem like the room truly does give you exactly what you need, as she was thinking of how she would use the pensive to record more memories onto CDs and hoped the room wouldn't reverberate sound.

She spent the remainder of her time before her Astronomy class recording memories with the songs she wanted to listen to, when a thought struck.

If her memories can’t be seen, heard, or interacted with, how was she able to record those songs onto real CDs?

Additionally, would other people be able to hear the music?

Chapter Text

Thursday morning at breakfast was more eventful than Rochelle was expecting. Mid-munch on her piece of toast, an elegant barn owl landed next to her plate at the Slytherin table. Rochelle took the letter and offered a piece of bacon to the bird, as she didn’t have any owl treats with her.

The owl took the bacon and flew off, leaving Rochelle confused as she turned the letter over, inspecting it. It was sealed with…well, she didn’t actually have all the family crests memorized, so she didn't know what crest it was sealed with. But the envelope felt high quality, and the writing on the front that addressed it to Rochelle was in elegant purple ink with beautiful calligraphy.

Blaise, the nosy git he is, leaned over from Rochelle’s right and looked at the letter. “That’s the Bones family crest. Why would a member of the Bones family be writing to you? It looks official, so it can’t be from Susan since she is only a few tables away.” He looked in the direction of the Hufflepuff table and saw Susan happily eating her breakfast and talking with her friends. Not paying any mind to their table, so the letter can’t be from her.

Rochelle smiled brightly. “This must be from Madam Amelia Bones! I had written to her and asked Susan to pass it along with a letter of introduction.” She looked around to take stock of those in their vicinity.

Draco was sitting on Blaise’s right with Nott next to him, and Crabbe and Goyle were taking the seats across the table from those two. Ophelia was to Rochelle’s left and not paying attention to either Rochelle or Blaise. Nobody was across the table from her, so she was essentially in the clear to open the letter.

And open it she did, popping the envelope open and sliding the elegant pastel purple stationery paper out of it and unfolding it. It read:

Greetings, Miss Rochelle McCullen.

I do hope this letter finds you well. It was quite a surprise to receive an owl from my niece so soon after the school year began. To my further surprise, it was three separate letters. The letter of introduction from young Miss Abbott was a stellar one and paints the mysterious foreign Malfoy ward in a wonderfully positive light. Along with the letter from my Susan, I am inclined to take your more concerning letter more seriously than one would expect to take a letter from a random first year.

In regard to your letter, it was deeply unsettling. As the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, it is my duty to uphold the processes of the law just as strictly as the law itself. When informed that a great injustice may have occurred, I decided to look into the matter. To my dismay, it appears you were correct: Sirius Black has never received a trial of any kind. Concurrently, I was able to discover that Black is indeed the legal guardian of Harry Potter per his placement in Lily and James Potter’s wills as the child’s Godfather.

While this does not prove his innocence as you have claimed for him, it does allow me to file for him to receive a fair trial. Your claim to be able to prove Peter Pettigrew is alive is frankly hard to believe and nearly made me throw your letter away as a prank of some kind. However, your status as a Reader does give a tentative level of validity to your claim. If you are able to provide the location of Pettigrew, you may be able to assist in proving your claim to Black as innocent and set a wronged man free.

I request direct correspondence going forward, as I do not want Susan involved.

Best regards, 

Amelia Bones

Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE)

Rochelle could feel Blaise reading over her shoulder, but she didn’t care. That is, until she heard him gasp, which made her head whip towards him and immediately glare at him, making a shushing noise. “Shh! Shut up and fix your face!” She said when she saw his shocked and almost horrified expression. “Maybe this will teach you not to read over my shoulder?”

Blaise looked around before leaning closer to her and whispering. “You’re going to explain right now, McCullen. What do you mean, Sirius Black is innocent, Peter Pettigrew is alive, and you know where he is?”

Rochelle sighed and put the letter into her backpack, standing up and grumbling to her friends. “We’re gonna head to class early.” Ophelia chuckled and mumbled about her being a typical Ravenclaw for going to class early. Draco gave her a concerned look, but didn't say anything.

She then grabbed Blaise and practically dragged him all the way to the Transfiguration Courtyard, as they had Transfiguration as their first class of the day. Once they were sufficiently alone, Rochelle plopped herself right on the grass and patted the ground next to her for Blaise.

The boy did as wordlessly instructed and looked at her with rapt attention. “So? Care to explain?” He crossed his legs in front of him and grabbed his shins with both hands. She then took her backpack off and opened it, leaving it open in front of her.

”Alright, strap in. So you know how I said my ability works like books in a series?” The boy nodded. “Well, I’ve only really explained Book 1—this year—in detail to Draco and vaguely to you. This stuff about Sirius Black is Book 3, two years from now. In that book, I learn that Sirius is innocent, Peter Pettigrew is alive, and a lot of other details I’m taking advantage of.”

She reached into her backpack and pulled out the copy of the Marauders Map that she still has yet to modify in any way. “This is a disenchanted copy of a map introduced in that book. The original allows you to see people in real time on it.” She opened the map to show Blaise. “I plan on modifying this copy to be unique to me.”

Blaise took the map and read the title page aloud. “Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present The Marauder’s Map.” He then opened it the rest of the way. “It’s a map of Hogwarts.” The boy gasped, his eyes frantically flitting about the parchment. “Sweet bloody Salazar, I thought Hogwarts was unmappable.” He then looked confused, his eyes flying back to Rochelle. “What does this have to do with Sirius Black?”

Rochelle took the map back and put it in her bag again. “The enchantment on the original one is how we found out where Pettigrew is. It’s how I plan to find him this time. I technically already saw him once and know basically where he is most of the time, but Plan A is to get him when he isn’t in the two most likely places he should be. Thus, we need the map.” 

Blaise looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Rochelle, darling. I'm not quite sure if you have noticed, but this map of yours doesn’t have that enchantment. How exactly do you plan on using an enchanted map that you don’t have, oh great wise one?” Rochelle scoffed and leaned back on her hands.

”Obviously, I plan to cast the enchantments on this one. If that plan fails, I know where to get the original.” Blaise gave Rochelle a look that practically oozed ‘then why don’t you already have it’ energy. “How do you think I made a copy of it? The map itself wasn’t in the books, just what it does and how it’s used. I didn't make that one myself.” She nodded her head toward her backpack. “I made a copy and gave it back to its current owners.”

Blaise scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Why didn’t you just keep it? Clearly, you know more about it than whoever currently has it. I'd bet money on you knowing who in Merlin’s name the Marauders are.” He then put one of his elbows on his knee and rested his chin in his palm while smirking at the girl.

Rochelle hummed and smiled, looking up at the sky. “You’d win that bet. I know way more than I want to about them.” She looked back at Blaise with a smirk. “Just for funsies, wanna do a Q&A on them? The only thing I won’t answer is anything that may reveal their real names or indicate who they are.”

Blaise scrunched his face in thought before smiling back at her. “Alright. When did they attend Hogwarts?”

Rochelle thought hard for a moment. Not only about what exact years they attended, but also if that would reveal too much. If she indicated they went at the same time as Snape, that could lead to finding out their identities. So she shook her head. “Not answering that. Try again.”

Blaise huffed. “Thought that would work. What’s with the nicknames? They're bloody weird.” This caused Rochelle to laugh, tossing her head back a bit before sitting back up.

She then looked around just in case people were around, and she managed to spot two tufts of red hair hiding behind a bush. She chuckled a bit and called out, “If you're going to eavesdrop on your favorite topic to get answers, might as well join in.”

Fred and George stood up sharply. “How come you’re telling him and not us when we asked?” Said one who Rochelle thought might be Fred.

”Yeah! Even if you did just invite us to join.” The two began walking over. The one who spoke last pointed to himself and said. “Fred” then pointed to his brother, “George.” Alright, so she can’t tell them apart yet. Good to know.

The two of them sat down next to the two first years. Rochelle just smiled at them and nodded in thanks at telling her who was who. “So when did you start listening in?” She said, raising a judgmental look at the twin redheads.

Blaise looked back and forth between the twins and Rochelle. “I take it they have the original then?”

Rochelle nodded to him when Fred spoke. “Oi. That’s none of your business- Rochelle, don’t tell him!” He cried when he saw her nodding.

She just laughed. “Blaise is my best friend. I tell him everything. Now, when did you start listening?”

”Since Zabini here called you ‘darling.’” Said George. “Seeing as you referred to him as your best friend, I take it the two of you aren’t dating at too young an age?” He said with a teasing smirk.

Rochelle and Blaise both shook their heads while Rochelle responded. “Nope, not in the slightest. That’s just Blaise’s way of speaking. I’m also aro/ace, so that's never gonna be an issue for me.” All three boys looked at her, confused. “Aromantic/asexual. For me, that means I have no interest in romance and I’m not attracted to anyone. I can still recognize when someone is attractive, but I’m not attracted to them.”

She then waved her hand and changed the subject. “Anyway, Blaise, back to your question. That’s kinda hard to explain. It’s tied to an even bigger secret that the group had. I guess I can say the nicknames are based on animals. But any more than that is saying too much.”

The conversation went on with the trio of boys asking her questions, and she either had to not answer them or omit part of the answer. Finally, Blaise looked like something had occurred to him. “Wait, back to the original topic. How can you find-“ he paused and looked at the twins, “-him, with the map? You said it shows people in real time.”

Rochelle huffed a sigh and looked around. People were walking by, and class would be starting soon. She spoke as she closed her backpack and stood up. “It says someone’s true name. Meaning if someone is lying about their name, hidden under a glamour, disguised with Polyjuice, or even if they’re an animagus like Professor McGonagall, it will say their real name. And speaking of her, we have to get to class.”

The boys stood as well, and the twins bid farewells in dramatic fashion, making the girl roll her eyes. She then pulled Blaise along as she led the way to the classroom, much to the disgruntled protests of the Slytherin. “You don’t need to drag me everywhere. I have working feet, I’ll have you know.” He huffed.

After Transfiguration, the Slytherins had Charms while Rochelle had a free period, so they parted ways. The lone Ravenclaw made her way to the library while listening to her music. She took a seat at the table she had been meeting Hermione at and simply read through her special notebook while continuing to listen to her music. She didn't even notice that her Gryffindor study partner took her seat.

The girl had to tap the table next to Rochelle’s hands to get her attention. When she finally looked up, Hermione said something, but she couldn’t hear, so she took her headphones off, and the girl repeated herself. “What are you listening to? I thought Muggle technology didn’t work near magic.”

Rochelle paused her music while she responded. “Honestly, not sure why it works, but it does. Maybe because the CDs have some kind of magic on them? I mean, I had to use magic to get the songs in the first place, and I did burn them when at Malfoy Manor or here at Hogwarts. So, maybe since they were made surrounded by magic, it works surrounded by magic?”

She really was just talking out of her ass at this point, but the more she thought about it, the more it kinda made sense. It was kinda nice that the bogus rule of Muggle tech frying when there was too much magic didn't seem to work in this universe.

Hermione tilted her head while eyeing the portable CD player. “Can I have a listen? I’m interested in what kind of music you listen to.” With a nod of Rochelle’s head, Hermione put on the headphones and pressed play. She then tried pressing pause, then play, then checking to see if the device was even working. “I can’t hear anything.”

Rochelle nodded her head. That made sense, and it answered her question from the previous night. The best guess she has is that she can hear the music because she has access to the memories. To everyone else, the containers of the music or memories exist, but they can’t see or hear any of their contents.

“Makes sense. But to answer your question, I listen to a bit of everything. Mostly pop/punk and whatever JMH is categorized as.” With a confused look from the girl, Rochelle just giggled. “No, I’m not going to explain. I know you don’t know what I meant, and you never will.” She took back her device and put it along with her special notebook into her bag before retrieving her notes for her classes.

Hermione looked confused for a bit after that, even as the two began studying. Rochelle would catch the girl giving her weird looks out of the corner of her eye. Surprisingly, their studying didn’t last long as Harry and Ron walked up to the table. “Hey! I was looking for you, Rochelle. Do you always spend free period in the library?” Harry said, taking a seat next to the girl.

Rochelle looked at him and smiled. She was glad Harry still seemed to want to be friends with her so much. She figured once they got to Hogwarts and he made friends with Ron and the other Gryffindor boys, that he wouldn’t want to spend as much time with her.

She nodded her head as she responded. “Yep! Hermione and I have been studying together. You two are welcome to join us if you’d like. It’s thanks to her I’ve gotten better at Transfiguration.” She smiled brightly at Hermione, who smiled back shyly.

Harry looked between the two girls before shaking his head. “Nah, I’m alright. I just wanted to talk to you about some things, if you're free.” Rochelle raised an eyebrow at him and then looked at Ron, who was still standing.

”Might as well take a seat.” She said, gesturing to the chair directly in front of him. He huffed and sat down before eyeing Hermione. Rochelle just rolled her eyes. “Hermione is fine. What you can tell me, you can tell her.” She looked at Hermione. “As long as you know how to keep a secret?”

Hermione was quiet for a few moments before standing up. “If you’re planning to break the rules, I’d rather have plausible deniability.” She then started packing up her things. “I’ll be in the History section if you need me.” She then walked away from the group, and Rochelle turned back to Harry, gesturing for him to continue.

Harry blinked a few times. “Yeah. Right. So, there was this break-in at Gringotts on my birthday. It was around the same time Hagrid and I went to my vaults. You always know more than you’re supposed to, so I was wondering if you knew anything about that?” He looked at her hopefully.

Sighing heavily, Rochelle went into her backpack and took out a piece of paper. She then grabbed a pencil and began writing on it. “To simply answer your question, yes, I know details about that. Will I tell you? Absolutely not. You don’t need to know about that yet, nor will you for a while.

Here is a list of the things that need to happen before I will tell you anything. After each of these happens, you can come to me for details. I know I can’t stop you from certain things, but I can at least try and make it safer for you.” She then handed over the list to Harry.

Ron looked over Harry’s shoulder while grumbling. “Well, that's not ominous.” The list read:

• Halloween: After the feast

• Write to me during winter break

• When you find out what it is

• Fluffy

• When Dumbledore is out of the castle on business

“This covers the entire school year. Until each of these things happens, the information I have will not be relevant enough for me to share without messing something up.” Rochelle said, taking out one of the books Snape gave her to read and putting her other things away to switch gears.

Reading the list, Harry and Ron both looked at it, confused. “This is rather cryptic. Why is one of them just ‘Fluffy’? What is that supposed to mean?” Harry complained, looking back at the girl.

She simply shrugged and said, “Until you know what it means, you’re not allowed to ask me about it. That’s the point of the list. I don’t want people using me for my ability, so I want to limit the number of times you can ask me about it.” She opened the book History of Mind Magic: Occlumency and Legilimency to the first page and dove in.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Boring and annoying DADA with Quirrell and his scab, Lunch, Herbology, then finishing the day off with double potions before dinner. She felt Snape scratch the surface of her mind when their eyes met in class, which reminded her to maintain what little Occlumency shields she had.

Occasionally, she would intentionally think things that she knew would make him uncomfortable, just in case he pushed past her initial surface shield. Things like giving him a hug in the middle of class, or the image of him in Neville’s grandmother's clothes from the third movie. She eventually had to stop when she failed to hold back her laugh at his facial expression and lost a house point.

When at dinner, Rochelle whispered to Draco, and subsequently Blaise, that she wanted to see that memory from their potions class. She plans to use the Room of Requirement, now that she knows it provides a pensive when asked, but she isn’t exactly sure if she wants to share the room with her friends yet.

Some part of her wants to keep it all for herself for just a little while longer, but she really wants to see that memory, and it would be nice to have a place that she and her friends can meet up in that is private.

Making up her mind, she tells them to head to the Astronomy Tower and wait in front of the tapestry with the dancing trolls after dinner. She wanted to add the room to the map and work on customizing it, but she wanted to run down to another secret room before meeting them. Eventually, she will add the Chamber of Secrets when Harry opens it next year, but she wants to get the Undercroft and keep that one to herself.

Once they finished eating, Rochelle ran off and headed to the DADA Tower, to the bottom of the stairs, and into the little hall next to the stairs. Crossing her fingers, she saw the Astronomical Clock she was looking for. Smiling widely upon seeing it, she walked up to the ornate clock and took out her wand. “Wait, so how did they do this? The player character just waved their wand when you interacted with it.” She said to herself, mumbling as she leaned closer to inspect the clock.

She reached behind her and opened her backpack a bit before accioing her map and finding where she was standing on it, which was harder when the tracking spell wasn’t on it. When she eventually found where she was, she accio’d a quill and ink to begin her customizations. She drew a small box where the clock was, then resumed trying to open it.

First, she tried grabbing and pulling the sides, but of course, that didn't work. She then tried waving her wand the way the player character does in the game, but that didn't work either.

In her mind, she only had two more options. This secret room was a secret held by the Gaunts, but anyone could technically open it if they knew how. That meant there was a possibility it might respond to a descendant of the Gaunts. The only real way to test lineage was blood testing, and she didn't exactly want to bleed on the door. So she left that as a last resort and simply placed her hand on the clock’s wood and closed her eyes.

She began to visualize her magic channeling through her hand and into the contraption, keeping the door shut. A warmth spread down her arm from the core in her chest and plumed through the wood under her touch. She softly muttered, “As a descendant of the Gaunts, please allow me access to the Undercroft, Ominis Gaunt’s legacy.”

After a few more moments of her channeling her magic, she heard a loud click. Her eyes flew open and a smile spread over her face as she watched the gears turn on the door of the clock.

Stepping back, she grabbed her belongings and stepped into the now open entrance. Once inside, she cast Lumos and began walking down a large, stone spiral staircase.

At the bottom, there was a gate blocking her way, but with a quick Levioso to lift it out of her way, Rochelle stepped into the dusty and criminally underused Undercroft. She walked around with her lit-up wand and found various sconces, candles, and candelabras and lit them with Incendio.

When they were all lit, Rochelle canceled her Lumos and took stock of the room. While she could smell the dust in the air when she first entered, seeing it was another story. She left footprints on the floor, and every piece of stored furniture, paintings, and various other items had a visible thick layer of dust.

Scrunching her nose, the girl walked around casting various cleaning charms. She had a harder time with the ones without a name or incantation in her notebook, but intention was enough after a couple of tries. The spell making this clean-up a million times easier was the vacuum cleaner charm, literally designed to pick up dust. After the dust was gone, a number of Scourgify charms made the place look usable again.

Finally satisfied with the cleaning job she had done, Rochelle popped a squat on the floor and began drawing the room as best as she could onto the map. The fact that the map showed every level of Hogwarts all at once was a godsend, because she was able to line up the box she had drawn before to the spiral staircase, then into the room she was currently in. The only hard part of it was the fact that the other enchantments weren’t on the parchment, which made the image static and hard to read clearly.

She figured this could be finished in the Room of Requirement, so she packed up her things, put out all the fires she started, and walked back to the other side of the gate. Turning back to look at the room, she smiled and softly spoke. “I’ll come back, don’t worry. This room will get used again, I promise.” With that, she left the Undercroft and made her way to the Astronomy Tower. What she didn’t notice was the warmth that spread throughout the room at her words and followed her through the castle.

Many grueling stairs later, Rochelle came upon her destination to a grumpy-looking Draco and a confused-looking Blaise. “Where in Merlin’s name have you been!? We have been waiting ages!” Draco practically screamed as she got closer. “And why are we waiting in a corridor with such a ghastly tapestry?” He sneered at the offending fabric hanging on the wall.

Rochelle ignored him and simply began walking back and forth in the hall, thinking of a cozy room with a pensive and a curtain in front of the door. Blaise looked at her more concerned. “Rochelle? Are you alri-“ he stopped speaking as a door appeared on the blank wall.

Without missing a beat, the girl opened the door and motioned for the two boys to get into the room. They hesitantly obliged, moving the curtain in their way as they entered the coziest little living room Rochelle has ever seen.

Closing the door and curtain behind her, the girl looked around the room with a warm smile growing across her lips. It had about the same type of vibe and decor as one would expect from the Gryffindor common room, but the colors were those of all the houses. Primarily blue and green, but there was also red and yellow here and there.

There were warm carpets overlapped together to cover the polished stone floor. A pensive rested in the center with a large hearth to one side of the room. Couches and plush chairs were spread across the remaining floor space with blankets draped over them. Side tables were placed in convenient locations next to each seat.

She didn’t even spare her friends a glance before she turned toward the curtain over the door. “Spelunca Secure,” she cast, making the curtain rigid and unmovable in case someone saw them enter and decided to join them without permission.

She then practically skipped over to a comfy-looking chair and sat down, bouncing a little. “Well done, Hogwarts.” She cast a quick Incendio at the hearth. “This is perfect, thank you.” She didn’t know why, but she kept having the urge to speak to the castle. Well, she is semi-sentient, so it's probably best to show her some respect, right?

Finally looking up at her friends, Rochelle saw their confused and awe-filled faces as their eyes scanned the room, as well as judged their friend, acting like this was normal. “Have a seat,” she said.

“This is the Room of Requirement, also known as the Come and Go Room. It doesn’t always look like this. It gives you what you're looking for or what you need. Help is always given at Hogwarts if you ask, and this is one of the ways the castle provides.” She waved her hand to speed them along as both Draco and Blaise took a seat on one of the couches. “Draco, put the memory into the pensive so I can watch.”

After a moment of being frozen in place, Draco blinked a few times and seemed to snap out of it. “I need to stop being surprised by you. It is most definitely not good for my health.” He stood up and walked over to the pensive with his wand drawn. “I’m going to assume you know this from your ability? Was that pacing the way to open the door?” He spoke as he drew the memory from his head and placed it into the water below.

Rochelle giggled a bit. “Yes, I know it from my ability. The pacing is needed to open it, but the important part is what you're thinking. Whenever you guys wanna come back, pace by the tapestry three times while thinking of this exact room. It should give you the same thing every time. Most students don’t know about this room. I’m not sure about the teachers, but I think Dumbledore knows at least. The important thing is, Filch doesn’t know, I think, so we can use this room to meet up after curfew if we want. Which reminds me!”

She took out the map, as well as a quill and ink, and went to the part of the castle where the room should be. She then drew a simple box in the empty space where they should be and hoped that was enough. She didn’t try to draw the room exactly, because technically, the room was unplottable. All she wanted to know was if someone was inside, not where they were within the room.

“Was this room not originally on the map?” Blaise said while Draco eyed the map warily.

Shaking her head, Rochelle stood from her seat and walked to the pensive. “Nope. Technically, the room isn’t plottable because it changes to what the person seeking it needs. But I don’t care about knowing where someone is within the room, I just want to know if someone is inside it at all.” She looked at Draco and Blaise. “Did you want to watch it too?” 

Draco looked at Rochelle angrily. “We’re you ever going to tell me about a map that Blaise clearly already knows about?” He crossed his arms and glared daggers at the girl, feeling betrayed all over again.

Blaise stood up and walked over. “Draco, relax. She only told me about it this morning when I was being nosy.” He then began giving a detailed recounting of what happened this morning while Rochelle dove her head into the pensive, being engulfed by the memory.

Chapter Text

The memory Draco gave Rochelle was thoroughly entertaining. It started with Draco handing off the note saying, “This is from Rochelle. She said to read it and memorize it before class.” He then looked into Harry’s eyes, and his thoughts rang out. Sweet Salazar, his eyes are pretty. He blinked a moment later and quickly retreated to his seat in the Potions classroom before Harry could respond.

Watching the same scene she had seen before, but with Draco’s inner monologue, plastered a near-permanent smile on the girl's face. Only this time, when Harry answered Snape’s questions correctly, the giggles in the room weren’t pointed at Harry in ridicule. Draco did his best to stifle his own giggles, but didn’t manage to stifle his thoughts about how cool and brave Harry was in the face of his scary godfather, whose face was positively murderous.

Snape takes points from Harry for cheek, of course, but since Harry and Draco are sitting kinda close, when Snape's attention isn’t on him, he turns to Draco and whispers, “Was the note right? Can I ask for your help with Potions?” Draco nods while blushing a bit. “Brilliant! I’ll be relying on you then.”

Cue gay panic on Draco’s part. So cute! Draco truly has no clue how hard he is crushing, does he? His thoughts are just about how shocked he is that Harry would rely on him so readily, and how happy he is that they actually have a chance at being friends.

Coming out of the memory, Rochelle has a smug smile on her face when she looks over and sees Draco and Blaise sitting on the couch and talking. One look between the blonde and the brunette, and Draco’s eyes go wide, cheeks going red as a tomato. Blaise catches it and tries to go see the memory, jumping up while saying, “Let me see!”

Draco pulls him back down to the couch, and the two start wrestling while Blaise laughs like a madman. Chuckling a bit, Rochelle goes back to the map, sitting down in the chair and making herself at home.

How does one remove already dried ink? There is a spell people use for wet ink, but she doesn’t know the incantation. After just imagining the spell she is trying to cast, it seems it is only used for wet ink. Which sucks. Through a bit of trial and error, she ends up finding that using a combination of aquamenti to wet the ink and tergeo to take it off leaves a decently blank piece of parchment in its wake.

She changed the color of her ink to a dark purple. Her favorite color is green, but that would give it a Slytherin theme in the same way the dark red of the original gave a Gryffindor theme. Plane black was kinda of boring, so it’ll be her third favorite color.

She began drawing her own cover for it. In the same fashion as the original, she had it say, “The Isekai Chosen is proud to present: The Reader’s Map.” It was kinda corny to call herself the Isekai Chosen, but it was kinda true. She had no idea why, but she was indeed chosen to be isekai’d. This was also her map, so calling it the Reader’s map was kinda on the nose, but it worked. It wasn’t any more corny than the Marauder’s map.

Once she was done decorating the cover, she began the enchantment, hoping she could still add the Chamber of Secrets after it was enchanted. Pulling out her notebook, she began searching for all of the spells she would need for this. Casting a few cleaning charms to ensure the parchment was as good as new, she then cast the homonculous charm to have the tracking feature of the map.

She was about to start trying to figure out a spell to essentially give it tablet-like features, allowing it to zoom in and move around the map, but then she noticed Blaise and Draco hovering over her and watching.

”How can you cast it wordlessly?” Blaise said, his abundant curiosity making his chocolate brown eyes practically sparkle.

Rochelle smiles up at him and responds, “Because magic is mostly intent. If I have the spell’s effects that I want, even if it's a specific spell that I just forgot the incantation for, most of the time I can cast it. I don’t know the incantation for the Homonculous charm, but I know what it does. The same goes for all the other enchantments I'm gonna use. I don’t know what the incantations are, but I know what they do.”

Draco pipes in with, “She created a spell for a never-ending notebook. My guess is you made it with intent, but I saw you struggling and messing up a few times. What happened there?”

“That was different because the spell never existed before. What I'm talking about now are spells that already exist. Now I need to create a new spell for a new function I want my map to have, but that’s going to take a bit of research and testing before I can do that. But until then, what password should I use on this thing? The original I copied looks like a blank piece of parchment, and you need a password to open it, so I want one too.” She then closed her eyes and began thinking of the passwords.

They brainstorm for a while, but Rochelle lands on things from her old life. Things nobody would be able to guess, but are still relevant to the world they are in. Something satisfying to say and hear.

“Fuck J.K.R.”

That’s perfect as the password to open it, and a simple “Objective Achieved” to close it, reminiscent of the original map's closing password.

It takes a while to actually cast the password spell, as it isn’t entirely clear how it works or how to set the passwords, but after about 30 minutes of trying, she gets it. The boys try questioning her on who J.K.R. is, but she simply says not to worry about it.

The spell to prevent people from cheating around the password was easier, but when it came to what message to make it say, she landed on a simple spell activation rune she had come across during her rune research that summer. You draw the rune while saying the incantation of the spell you want to activate, and just like with her notebook, she decided to protect it with the Macbeth curse; Vulneculpra.

When questioned about what the spell does, she explains, but when asked if she created it, she tells the truth, saying no. She isn’t able to answer when they ask who created it, though, so Draco gives her a look that she interprets as, “expect an interrogation later.”

The final spell she casts this time is an Imperturbable charm, but it takes a few tries to modify it to be malleable. She adheres the charm to the parchment, which will protect it from outside elements, but not protect it from the parchment's normal degradation. This will make it last longer than a normal copied map would. She will need to undo it if she wants to add any other rooms, and probably when she finishes the zooming spell, but for now, it was fine.

After another hour or so, Rochelle checked the time and stood up, packing her things. “It’s almost 9, so we better get going. Y’all have a longer walk than me, so let’s get a move on. Shall we?”

The boys grumbled, but still got up and were ready to leave. Following the girl out, she cast a finite incantatum and was able to move the curtain out of the way and through the door. The trio went on their way and split at the junction between the paths to their two common rooms.

The following day was Friday, so it began with double DADA with the Hufflepuffs. Throughout the whole hour and a half lesson, Rochelle kept looking at Quirrellmort’s turban, thinking about how stuffy it must be in there. What if Voldie sneezed? Would he get snot all over his face? Just thinking that caused the girl to forcefully hold in a laugh at the image.

Unfortunately, she didn't hide it well enough, because she noticed Quirrellmort eyeing her more closely for the remainder of the lesson. She wondered if he saw the article on her. That wasn’t something she thought of. She practically put a target on her back.

What if he figured out she knows Voldie is a scab in that turban? What if he is just suspicious enough to use Legilimency on her? What if he is the only person that can see the memories from her previous life because… well, plot armor ‘cause he’s fucking Voldemort? Oh, she definitely would have to stay as far away from them as possible now. That, or she needed a plan to deal with them soon.

With that in mind, she practically ran out of the room to get to Transfiguration. She was the first one in the room as a result of her skedaddling, so she took the opportunity to practice. Which actually earned her 5 points for diligence from Professor McGonagall. Apparently, prioritizing her studies in a school gets rewarded. Go figure.

The remainder of the day consisted of Potions after lunch, followed by Charms and a free period. Lucky for her, Snape didn’t try testing her shields in class again. He must have truly hated her retaliation yesterday.

Rochelle-1, Snape-0.

In charms, she took diligent notes on what was taught during the lecture portion after Professor Flitwick checked everyone’s progress with Lumos. When instructed on how to cast scourgify, Flitwick gave her a small smile before walking around the class to help students, primarily on the Gryffindor side of the room.

Taking the hint for what it was, Rochelle began looking around the Ravenclaw side and offering help to those who looked like they were struggling. It took a while of rewording her explanations, but eventually, all but a couple of the Ravenclaws could cast the spell with moderate success. The girl counted that as a win, and hopefully her grade in the class would reflect that win.

When class ended, Hermione walked right up to Rochelle with her books in hand and a satchel bag hanging securely on her shoulder. She beamed at Rochelle without a word, and the two began walking to the library together.

Just as they were setting down their things, Harry and Ron took seats at the same table, on the same side, effectively kicking Rochelle out of her normal seat across from Hermione. With how soon they were there, they must have followed the two girls the whole way from Charms. They didn’t even ask to sit down, which was rude, but it wasn’t like they weren’t invited to join in the past, so the girls exchanged a brief look before continuing to sit down.

About 5 minutes after they began studying, going over Potions homework, they were interrupted by an entourage of green. Draco, Blaise, and Ophelia walked up to their table and stood behind the empty seats at the table on both sides next to Harry and Rochelle. “Mind if we join you?” Draco said, sheepishly smiling at Harry.

Rolling her eyes and scoffing, Rochelle leaned her cheek against her hand and eyed her friends. “By all means. The more the merrier.” She glanced at Hermione on her left. “That alright with you? They’re my friends, but it’s technically your study time with me.”

Hermione looked between the Slytherins and Rochelle with wide eyes for a moment. “Oh. Of course, they can join. We were just going over the Potions homework.”

”What? That's rubbish! Why are you letting them join? They’re Slytherins.” Ron cried like a whiny little baby.

Harry elbowed him in the arm while Rochelle leveled him a glare. “Not your decision to make. If I remember correctly, you're only here to spend time with Harry, not because you're friends with me or Hermione. You goof off most of the time anyway, so why do you care?”

Ron pouted and rubbed his arm where Harry had elbowed him, but didn’t say another word. Ophelia took the empty chair next to Rochelle, with Blaise next to her. Draco took the chair next to Harry and eagerly took out his Potions work with a smile on his lips and a soft blush on his cheeks.

Ophelia scoffed a bit before leaning over to Rochelle’s ear and whispering loudly, “What do you expect from Gryffindors? He probably thinks he doesn’t need to study.”

Rochelle snorted in surprise at her accuracy, but quickly held back any more of her laughing and turned to her. “Ok, for him, that’s hilariously accurate.”

Ron let out a loud, “Oi!” which caused Hermione to shush him.

”But that’s not fair to Hermione. She’s practically a Ravenclaw with how studious she is.” Rochelle continued. “You joked about stealing my notes and homework, but legit, if you wanna steal anyone’s and get good grades, that would be Hermione. Certified genius.”

Hermione blushed and tried to hide her face in embarrassment while Ron glared at the other two girls. “I still don’t like sharing a table with Slytherins. Feels like betraying my house. You lot are slimy. How can we trust you won't try and sabotage our studying?”

Blaise smirked teasingly at Ron. “You don’t. That makes it fun, though. Much more entertaining than studying alone, yeah?”

Seeing that the situation was going to escalate and genuinely wanting to study, Rochelle leaned over to look at Blaise. “Not helping.” She looked around the table, primarily at Ron. “Everyone shut up and study, please?”

That caused Ron to glare at her while everyone else got back to work. Draco was diligently leading the session, with Hermione chiming in to throw out theories or facts she had read about, which seemed to annoy everyone but Draco and Rochelle.

Draco, because he genuinely found the topic interesting and seemed to enjoy having another person just as passionate about the subject. Rochelle, because she knew Hermione. She also has no room to talk negatively about that type of behavior when she is exactly the same when talking about a special interest of hers.

At one point, Ophelia spoke under her breath after another fact was thrown out by Hermione. “What’s it with Gryffindors and needing to be right?” This mildly annoyed Rochelle, but she knew her friend better than to take that comment to heart. Sadly, some people didn’t have that kind of emotional maturity.

Ron snapped at her instantly. “Shut it, snake. At least we’re better than you.” He glared daggers at the Slytherin girl, who looked back at him completely unbothered.

Rochelle instantly pointed her wand at Ron and cast the stinging jinx on his shoulder, careful not to make it too strong. He cried out in shock and pain, and Rochelle only glared at him. “Shut up, or leave. You don’t wanna be here to begin with.” She looked at Harry and sighed. “Sorry, but if he keeps this up, he won’t be allowed to keep joining us.”

Harry’s face scrunched a bit as he looked at his friend apologetically, but Ron’s eyes were just flitting between Ophelia and Rochelle angrily. He stood up aggressively, causing his chair to scratch across the floor loudly. “He’s not my bloody keeper!” He then looked at Harry briefly before grabbing his things and storming out of the library.

Blaise snorted in amusement, leaning back in his chair and watching Ron leave. “War of the red-heads. Can’t wait to see who the winner is.”

Ophelia rolled her eyes and looked back at her work. “Typical reaction from that lot. Always feels they need to be right, and when they aren’t, they throw a tantrum.”

Rochelle groaned and slumped her head against the table. “Can you guys not antagonize my friends? Ron is one thing, but Harry and Hermione are still here, ya know.”

Hermione was watching this interaction silently while Harry just looked apologetic and chastised. Ophelia looked up from her work, her eyes looking from the remaining two Gryffindors to her exasperated Ravenclaw friend, and sighed. “Right. Sorry. I’ll start keeping that shit to myself while they’re here.”

Blaise raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll keep the quips quiet. Sorry, darling. Though seeing ginger on ginger crime is impeccably entertaining.” He smirked as he spoke before getting punched in the stomach by Ophelia, effectively getting the wind knocked out of him. He slumped forward and nearly fell out of his chair while the rest of the table, including Harry and Hermione, laughed softly at his pain.

Draco shook his head while he laughed. “She’s told you not to call her that, Zabini. You reap what you sow.”

The following day at breakfast, Rochelle apologizes to her friends that she won’t be able to hang out with them as she has some things to do. They won't be able to find her, but she will see them at lunch. Some of them were grumpy, some were confused, and some looked like they would try to follow her, but all expressed that they would see her at lunch and let her leave the Great Hall.

Using her map, she made her way to the entrance of the Undercroft and snuck inside, successfully unseen. She looked down the spiral staircase and lit her wand before plunging down and nearly slipping a number of times.

When she made it past the gate and into the room, she noticed it was warmer than the last time she was there. The air buzzed softly as she made her way around the room, lighting all the fixtures needed to see in the room adequately.

Once her task was complete, she surveyed the room and decided to take a look at the furniture hidden under sheets of cloth. She spent her time revealing couches, chairs, desks, and tables, cleaning them, and arranging them in the room, creating a cozy space to hang out on one of the shorter sides of the room. She cleaned carpets to lay down, statues and paintings to put on display, and even found a bookshelf and books scattered all over the place that she cleaned and put to rights.

By the time lunch rolled around, she was about two-thirds of the way done with cleaning. Rochelle looked over her work with a proud smile and turned to grab her things when a large triptych caught her eye. Isn’t that from that one quest in Hogwarts Legacy?

She walked over and opened the triptych, and sure enough, it was exactly like the game. Hogwarts having the layout of the game was one thing, but having an item from a specific quest in the game implied the player character actually existed. Ominis is one thing, maybe Sebastian could exist too, but the player character?

Rochelle quickly closed the triptych and grabbed her backpack. “Nope. Not dealing with game canon right now. That’s a plot hole I will not be filling in book one. Too much content for one year.” She said it into the empty expanse of the room and promptly left, not even caring that the magic of the room seemed to be laughing at her.

At lunch, Draco kidnapped her before she could even try to make her way to the Gryffindor table. He grabbed her by the elbow, pulled her off to the left just as she entered the Great Hall, and dragged her down a small hallway that held a door at the very end.

Once they were far enough from the hubbub of the other students, he looked at her sternly and waved the hand not clinging to the girl in a death grip about in the air. “Privacy?”

Rochelle couldn’t help but chuckle and pull out her wand. “Manners?” Casting a muffliato, she eyed the boy up and down. “So…care to explain why I was so rudely prevented from getting food?” She shook out of the boy’s grip and crossed her arms, wand still in hand and backpack still secure on her back.

“You’re hiding things already. I can’t exactly interrogate you when you’re off in Ravenclaw Tower, nor can I drag you to the Slytherin Dungeons, so deal with it.” Draco snapped. Damn, he must be more mad than she had originally thought.

He sighed through his nose, as if he were a literal dragon blowing smoke as he continued. “First, where were you? I couldn’t find you anywhere, and I tried to follow you. Second, you were meant to be assisting me with practical magic, so forget what you had planned for the rest of the day; that is what we are doing.” He crossed his arms in a huff, like he was an authority figure who should be listened to, but executed the action like the child he is.

Rolling her eyes, Rochelle moved to the wall and leaned back against it. “First, I was in a secret room that I’ll be keeping all to myself since I already told you and Blaise about the Room of Requirement. There was no way you could have found me on your own without me telling you how to get into that room.”

Draco looked furious, but she held up a hand to stop him and leveled him a serious glare. “You’re not entitled to all of my secrets. We talked about this. Let me be selfish with this room, alright? I need some me-space. Like my Rec Room back home. Think of it as my Rec Room here at school.” She crossed her arms again.

There was a pause as Draco seemed to absorb what she had just declared, and begrudgingly, he sighed and nodded. “I can understand when you put it like that, but I want to know at least where it is. And the second?” He prompted.

Nodding her head, Rochelle smiled warmly. “We can do that after lunch. I was planning to finish cleaning my secret room, that you will not be told the location of, but I can finish that another day. There are some things I wanna work on in a controlled and safe environment anyway, so multitasking with your training doesn’t sound too bad.” Her smile slowly grew more sinister as she thought of how exactly she was going to test the spells she wanted to work on.

Draco cleared his throat, which snapped the girl back to reality as she locked eyes with him. “Right. Not creepy in the slightest. Let’s just get lunch before you get any more ideas that put that look on your face.”

He then walked out of the range of the muffliato, which caused Rochelle to cancel it and follow the boy back to the hall before making her way to Gryffindor. It was routine now to spend lunch at their table and the other two meals with Slytherin, leaving little to no time spent with her own house. Perhaps she will need to work on that.

The pair left the Great Hall and made their way up to the Room of Requirement, Draco still being a big grump about Rochelle not telling him about the Undercroft. He kept grumbling the whole way up the Astronomy Tower about how, while he can respect it being her private space, he wanted to know where it was.

Basically, he was just being a brat, as per usual.

When they got to the dancing troll tapestry, Rochelle walked back and forth, thinking about a room with protections for spell casting and some dueling dummies. When the door appeared, she pushed Draco in, ignoring his comment that it did not look like the same door.

When they were both inside with the door closed, she looked around and nodded. The room was big and kinda shaped like an oval. On the far side of the room, there were a number of dueling and training dummies. To the right, there was a little secluded area with a big dividing wall, blocking it off from the rest of the room, but with no door.

As if she had seen this room before and used it, she walked to the secluded area while taking off her backpack and outer robe of her uniform. Unlike the skirts the girls were meant to wear for their uniform, Rochelle opted for the boys' uniform and wore a nice pair of slacks. She got away with it since she never took off her outer robe and never moved around enough to let her lack of skirt show.

So, it was a surprise to her when Draco chuckled at her while saying, “What in Merlin’s name are you wearing?” Upon turning to look at him as she dropped her things onto one of the two chairs in the secluded area, she saw his amused and mildly disgusted expression.

”What?” She smirked at him. “You’ve seen me wear pants and shorts over the summer. I would have thought you knew by now that I don’t really wear dresses or skirts that often. Only when I wanna feel pretty. Pants are more practical and comfortable.” She gestured to the other chair. “Put your things there, and we can get started.” She walked back out to the main room while grabbing her hair to wrap it into a tie-less bun.

Draco made his way to the other chair to do as he was told, but not without making comments. “Well, trousers are for the boys' uniform. You're a girl. You should be wearing girls’ clothes. Skirts, dresses, and never anything shorter than your knees.” He finished shedding his outer uniform robe and placing that and his satchel onto the vacant chair before he walked back out, wand in hand, and kept speaking. “Honestly, if Mother saw you chose the boys' uniform instead of the girls, she would be just as appalled as me-“

”Langlock.” Rochelle’s wand was pointed at the boy as she cast the spell, his tongue instantly adhering to the roof of his mouth, effectively stopping his rant. He tried to speak for a couple more seconds before looking at her in fear and confusion.

She looked at him with an unamused expression and walked closer, wand still trained on the boy. “Enough of your sexist wardrobe bullshit, Dray. I’ll wear whatever the hell I want to wear, and I’m not hearing your two cents on it. Rule number one of dealing with women: never comment on their clothes unless they ask for your opinion.”

Draco nodded his head quickly, not wanting to argue with the witch with her wand trained on him when he couldn't cast anything himself. He tried to move his tongue again, but of course, it didn't work, so he sheepishly pointed to his mouth.

Smirking a bit, Rochelle cast “Finite” and allowed him to speak again as she turned to walk back into the main area of the room. “Glad we can come to an understanding. Now, what spells did you want to work on?”

When his tongue was released, Draco moved it around his mouth a bit before responding. “Er, I guess the Knockback Jinx… and was that the spell you said Uncle Severus made?” He followed her into the main part of the room.

Hearing his request, she pointed her wand at one of the dummies and cast “Locomotor” to make it come closer and into a ready position. “Yes, it was, in fact, one of the ones he made. One of them is the dangling jinx, Levicorpus. It dangles people upside down in their air by their ankles. I’ll teach both to you if you’d like.”

Looking at Draco, she could see the smile he seemed to be trying to hide, but his eyes were practically glittering with excitement at the prospect of learning Snape's spells. She decides not to bring up the other spells, like Sectumsempra, until she knows he can be trusted with the spell. Which is probably gonna be 6th or 7th year, at the earliest.

Smiling and nodding her head, she giggles a bit. “I’ll take that as a yes, then. Alright. So the Knockback jinx’s incantation is Flipendo, and this is the wand movement.” She then demonstrated what looks like her drawing a check mark with a little tail in the air. “You try.”

And so, the two began working on Flipendo. They worked on the wand movement alone for about 45 minutes, because Draco seemed not to quite get it right. When he would try, either it would be too powerful, too weak, or something completely unintended would happen, like blowing up a training dummy or knocking things over with a gust of wind.

Eventually, Rochelle decided to check something and asked to see Draco’s wand. He handed it to her, and she cast Flipendo on a dummy. Her magic moved sluggishly through the wand's core, like walking through water. Not unworkable, but there was something off about the wand. She handed it back to Draco and asked him to cast Lumos while she held onto the wand and his arm, wanting to see if she could sense the flow of magic.

When he agreed, she held onto the wand with one hand and his arm with the other, closing her eyes as she worked to visualize and feel the flow of magic. At first, she didn't see or feel anything, but then, about 3 minutes later, she began to feel a current. It wasn’t warm like her own magic, but it wasn’t cold either. It moved like a river, constantly flowing and moving, never in one place long enough to get a read of its temperature. It moved out from somewhere deep in Draco’s chest, so she followed it.

Then, she could see it. The color of Draco’s core. Surprisingly, for coming from a dark family, Draco’s core was light grey. Digging deeper, she could see that the very center of his core was dark, and it was surrounded by a thick layer of light, giving the appearance of a light grey core.

On her signal, Draco cast Lumos, and she could see the dark magic in his core trying to push through to be the primary magic in the spell, but something in the thick layer of light magic stopped it, and following that led her to the wand's core: Unicorn hair.

Unicorn hair has a light alignment. While it is known to be the least likely of the main three cores to have fluctuations or blockages, it seems this particular hair doesn’t like dark magic at all. It’s like the wand core is trying to train Draco to rely on only his light magic and not use any of his dark magic. Rather controlling of it.

Knowing the typical theme with this type of thing, Dumbles probably had something to do with it. I mean, it was the first and only wand Draco had tried in Olivander's. She wouldn’t put it past ol’ Bumblefuck to plant a wand to train Draco to be light-aligned if he were anything like he is in other bashing fics.

She let go of him and opened her eyes. “Your wand core is messing with the flow of magic from your core. I think you need a new wand. You can use this one for now, but in the long run, I don’t think this wand is going to do you any good. The wood seems to love you, but for some reason, this particular hair wants to essentially train your magic instead of work with you.”

Draco did not like the sound of that. He nearly stormed out, ranting about how she doesn’t know what she is talking about and that the wand chose him, so it has to be a perfect fit. The only thing that seemed to calm him down was when she offered to help him learn Langlock, so they worked on that for a bit before returning to Flipendo, where he eventually was able to flip the training dummy with the correct amount of force.

At his victory, Rochelle told Draco to take a break while she worked on some spells. He agreed and went to the edge of the room, sitting on the floor while Rochelle summoned her special notebook and flipped to the section with fan fiction spells. She flipped for a bit more before finding what she wanted and smirking a touch evilly.

This should be fun.

Chapter Text

Rochelle planned to test as many fan fiction spells as she had, to see if they worked. Then she was going to add some of them to her regular spell repertoire. It wasn’t like she was going to learn these spells in school, as they either won't exist, or they’re dark spells, or both. So, she decided to start with the ones she remembers best from one of her favorite fics ever.

Pointing her wand to the space in the room, she started with a “Serpensortia,” summoning a snake. Out of her wand came a beautiful black and tan cobra. It reared up and hissed, coiling the rest of its body, gearing to strike before she glanced at her notebook briefly as she cast the spell at the snake: “Dracosanguis.”

This is another spell from ‘The Mirror of Ecidyrue’ by starbrigid. The incantation is Western Frisian for “dragon blood,” and the spell sets its victims’ blood on fire. The cool thing about this spell is that it stacks. Each cast of the spell builds on the previous one, so you can make the victims feel like they're having heartburn or being literally burned alive. While this spell can be used on anyone and anything, it works best on reptilian targets, hence the snake.

Rochelle’s magic flared hotter than she had experienced before, and she quickly visualized her magical flames to see what was happening. In her mind's eye, she saw the swirling yin-yang of the black and white tongues of flame moving faster and faster in their mutual orbit. The black one grew bigger and bigger until a large chunk broke off, leaving the swirling black tongue to its ordinary size.

The white one was interesting to watch. As the black one grew, the white one seemed to vibrate fast, almost as if it was excited. A small chunk broke off, and the moment it collided with the large black flame, an eruption of heat occurred. The flame used to cast the spell, which she now decides to call the Spell Flame, seemed alive, like it had a mind of its own as it rushed toward her wand, following the well-beaten path of her spell casting from her core to her wand.

She opened her eyes again to see its effects, breathing a bit heavier from the experience. The cobra stopped in its tracks and began moving strangely, as if it were uncomfortable, but soon reared back, looking poised to strike. She quickly cast the spell a few more times. “Dracosanguis, Dracosanguis, Dracosanguis,” and watched as the cobra began writhing in pain, much like the other snake did when she used the cruciatus curse.

A small smirk crept its way onto her face before she remembered Draco was watching. She glanced in his direction and felt her gut retch at his horrified expression. He was pushing himself harder against the wall, legs bent and pushing, as if he could scramble farther away, his wand out protectively, while his other hand seemed to be trying to do much the same as his legs, pushing him to safety. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was slightly open in shock, his eyebrows furrowed together in concern. Rochelle cringed at being the cause of that expression on his face.

Draco seemed to notice her attention on him, and his eyes shot up to meet hers before going back to the snake while he forcefully swallowed, trying to gain composure. “Wh-what are you doing to it?” His voice was shaky and high-pitched, clear signs that he was utterly terrified. She didn't know if he was scared of her or not, or just the spell, or maybe the snake.

Looking back at the pain-riddled snake, Rochelle flicked her wand, casting “Diffindo,” which caused a cut to appear on the cobra. Instantly, the cut was bleeding. The blood oozed out with soft, gentle flames dancing over the surface, making it almost glow and glitter as it spread on the floor. Once more, she cast “Dracosanguis,” and the blood instantly burned brighter. Visible flames burst forth from the cut on the cobra, making it hiss and writhe more viscerally in pain.

In a calmer and monotone voice than she was expecting, Rochelle answered Draco’s question. “It’s a spell that sets blood on fire. I wanted to see if it worked.” She smirked and chuckled softly, huffing out her amusement and pride that it did, in fact, work. “Seems like it does.” She looked at Draco, still smirking. “Did you wanna learn that one too?”

Draco shook his head immediately, moving fast to express how he very much did not want to learn that spell. A soft whimper came from him when he looked back at the snake, and Rochelle followed his gaze, seeing that the snake stopped moving, but was still bleeding and on fire. So, she cast in quick succession, “Finite, Evanesco, Scourgify.” Which stopped the burning, got rid of the now dead snake, and cleaned up the blood.

She slowly turned back toward Draco and tilted her head a bit as she softly spoke. “Did I really scare you that badly? I didn’t mean to, Dray.” She slowly moved closer to him and sat down, cross-legged, about five feet away in front of him. “Ask or say anything you like to help you feel better. I don’t like scaring you.”

Draco’s eyes were still wide with fear as he watched her, his breathing slowly coming under control. Eventually, he swallowed and cleared his throat. “Did… did you create that one? I’ve never heard of it before.” His voice held a confidence his body did not reflect, fear still evident in his eyes and tension in his muscles.

Shaking her head, Rochelle placed her notebook with the page the spell was on open in front of her as she slowly slid it closer to him, but not close enough that he could easily grab it. “No, I didn’t. It was made by the same person as that other one I told you about, the Macbeth curse? I would like to make sure that one works too, so I can make sure my map is protected the same way I was trying to make it. Though it really should be classified as a jinx or hex, not a curse.”

Draco leaned closer to the book to read it closely. At the top of the left page was:

The Macbeth Curse

Incantation: Vulneculpra

Etymology: Spanish for “guilt”

Classification: Curse (should be jinx or hex)

Counter: Finite Incantartum or Finite

Description: Causes blood to secrete from the victim's hands endlessly. Blood has an unknown origin and only produces more and faster when attempted to be remedied by anyone other than the caster.

Creator: Draco Malfoy, with assistance of Hermione Granger in the fan fiction The Mirror of Ecidyrue by starbrigid.

But unbeknownst to Rochelle, what Draco sees for the last part is essentially the Minecraft enchantment table font. Just like the blank books in her mental library, this font was a way to show her past life existed, but did not allow any direct influence on this world.

On the right page was a similar setup, but with the other spell on it, saying:

The Fire-Blood Curse

Incantation: Dracosanguis

Etymology: Western Frisian for “dragon blood”

Classification: Curse

Counter: Unknown (Standard counters are worth a shot)

Description: Sets the blood of the victim on fire. Best used on reptilian targets, but can be used on anyone. This spell can stack, with the effect growing with every cast.

Creator: Dantanian Black in the fan fiction The Mirror of Ecidyrue by starbrigid.

Seeing Draco read the pages, Rochelle points to the right page. “This is what I cast on the cobra.” She points to the left page. “This is what I was hoping to test next. I need someone to test it on, so I was hoping you’d let me test it on you?”

Draco’s eyes snapped up to look at her, and he scoffed, sputtering in disbelief. “You want to make me a test subject for your mad blood magic? Are you absolutely mental, or has my brain just been scrambled from practicing too much?” He crossed his arms tight to his chest, tucking his hands under his armpits, protecting them.

Rochelle chuckled softly and shook her head, smiling warmly at him. “I’m not crazy, and your brain isn’t scrambled. The spell is completely harmless. It was created to punish the guilty, so it’s a perfect punishment spell for those who touch my shit. Please? I’ll undo it the moment I know it works, I promise.” She put her hands together with her wand between them in the typical begging gesture.

After a few more seconds of Rochelle bombarding Draco with her best puppy-dog eyes, he groaned and rolled his eyes dramatically before standing up with an exasperated “fine! But you have to explain why the Creator section on both of those spells is some strange language I’ve never seen before.”

Standing up with a confused expression, Rochelle followed the boy back to the center of the room. “It’s in English to me. You’ll have to write or draw what it looks like to you, because I honestly have no idea why it would look different when it’s in English.” She had an idea, but she couldn’t tell Draco.

The testing went well, as about 5 seconds after she cast the spell on Draco, his hands began to slowly bleed. When asked if it hurt, he said no, and soon his hands were bleeding so much that he lost his grip on his wand. He held his hand as far away from his body as possible, grimacing when a bit of the blood hit the floor and splashed a bit on his shoe.

”Stopping it right about now would be a smart idea, wouldn’t it?” Draco complained, which spurred Rochelle to quickly cancel it with a simple Finite, and the blood stopped. A quick Scourgify and the floor, as well as Draco’s shoe and wand, were clean of all blood. Draco reached down and picked up his wand. “I won't be helping you for a while, yet. That was highly unpleasant.” He sneered.

Patting him on the shoulder, Rochelle nodded solemnly. “Understood. However, that does make it the perfect spell for its purpose, doesn’t it?” She then walked back to her notebook and picked it up as she kept speaking. “I have something else I’m trying to work on, so you can just sit back and watch or do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

When she turned back around, Draco was already grabbing his things. “Nope. I’m done with your craziness for today. Update me on your experiment at dinner.” And with that, he left the Room of Requirement and Rochelle to her own devices.

She ended up just shrugging it off and spent the remaining time before dinner, testing the runes she had created over the summer. One was a binding rune, meant to bind one's soul, mind, or magic to an object. In her research, this was called a Sympathetic Link, and it was a type of blood magic that was not outlawed, but definitely dancing on the edge of the line. Her specific modification created a direct link from her mind and magic to the book, so her occlumency shields would protect the book as if it were her mind.

The other rune was a type of activation rune connected to the binding rune. Once certain conditions were met, the rune would cast the spell woven throughout it. This was based on the typical common activation rune, but the difference lay in its semi-sentience. The conditions were open-ended, yet specific, and for Rochelle’s purposes, the condition was “when those without permission, touch.”

The combination of these runes, as well as the Macbeth curse, creates a protection on her notebook where anyone who comes in contact with her occlumency shield on the book, who doesn’t have her permission, will have the curse activated on them. She will always know who touched her book. It was perfect.

She tested on pieces of paper, and through her trial and error, she quickly figured out she needed the binding rune on her body somewhere, and for the one on the paper to be in her blood, carved deep into the paper until it almost ripped. The activation rune needed to be touching the binding rune and also needed to be in her blood.

Finally, she can perform the proper protection on her notebook, but unfortunately, it was time for dinner, so she packed up her things and left the room, but not before thanking Hogwarts for her assistance once more, which caused the magic of the room to warm ever so slightly.

At dinner, she updated Draco with a simple, “My tests were successful and I’ll be done by tomorrow! Nobody will be able to touch my notebook again.” She smirked mischievously as Blaise and Ophelia eyed the two of them with confusion and a touch of concern. Draco’s face just paled as he turned back to his food without another word.

Her night ended with another lesson with Snape after dinner, where, predictably, he was able to break into her mind easily. He tried finding her hidden memories and managed to get within the areas of the three hidden rooms where she has her memories, but he didn’t think to check the rooms or look for secret rooms. It was easier to house his mind for a longer period of time, and after about an hour of trying, she was able to push him almost entirely out of her mind.

When she got back to the dorms, she was quick with her night routine before locking herself in her bed with her notebook, wand, and a Swiss Army knife she kept in her trunk because it's handy with all the tools on it. She didn't think she would be using it to carve into herself or perform blood magic on a book.

With her wand holding a Lumos, it took a long time and a lot of pain, but eventually, she was able to carve the binding rune into her left hip, just below where the top band of her underwear lay, but above where any shorts would allow skin to be seen. She doesn’t plan on showing skin in that area of her body, so it’s a safe bet it will never be seen there.

She had to clean up many times throughout the process and even redo some parts because she moved too much in pain, or she accidentally healed it too much when trying to stop the gushing of blood. Safe to say, she was glad for the Muffliato, because she was not quiet about the pain, swearing and screaming as she carved.

When she finally finished with her own rune scar, she opened the back cover of her notebook and began carving with the bloody knife. This took far less time than her hip, but still took a while as she wasn’t able to allow mistakes. She can’t heal her book to erase progress like she can her skin, so she had to go extra slow.

Finally finished, she pierced her thumb and traced it along the rune while channeling her magic into it, softly whispering her intent and the spells she wished to connect to the runes: occlumency and the Macbeth curse.

Once finished, she slowly healed her hip to not bleed, but also have it leave a scar. Her scar would be what binds her to the book. Without it, she would have just bled on a book that would activate the curse whenever it was touched, period. So, it was with great pride that she woke the following morning and found a new magical pathway connecting her to her notebook.

She needed to find a better name for it. Just calling it her notebook feels like diminishing just how unique an object it was becoming. It’s not quite a grimoire or spellbook, as it has more than just a list of spells, despite that being what it started as. Now it holds all of her secrets, her family tree, her plans for how she wants to handle the story year by year, as well as what her goals are, she plans to achieve.

No, this was an object entirely unique and unnamed. But what to call it?

The following two days were largely uneventful. Sunday was spent bouncing around her various friends and talking about random stuff. Then Monday was just a repeat of the previous Monday. The only things of note were the pain in her hip from carving into her own skin, and the announcement that Friday will be the first flying lesson for the first years.

On Tuesday after dinner, Draco pulled Rochelle aside and quietly asked her what the plan was for the flying lesson. He apparently remembered what she had said all those months ago about this lesson being important for Harry’s Quidditch career and how she would need Draco’s help not to botch it.

It really was sweet how Draco was so concerned about Harry. It was also surprising that he couldn’t see it as a crush. She tried teasing him about already having a crush on Harry after only a week of school, and he looked genuinely confused, despite the slight blush on his cheeks.

Regardless of Draco’s denial of his feelings, the two planned for the blonde boy to play it off as genuine curiosity about his flying skill. Rochelle told him about how Harry’s dad was a notable chaser and how flying must be in Harry’s blood, so he should show Draco how good he is. If that alone doesn’t work, Draco is to tease him, ask him if he is scared, then pick up the Rememberall that she had said Neville would get that same morning, and pretend not to know who it belongs to as he throws it as hard as he can.

And so, Friday arrives.

That morning, at breakfast, Neville did indeed get a Remembrall from his grandmother. Unlike what happened in the book, Draco didn’t bring attention to it, nor did he even go over to the Gryffindor table, just to sell their planned story about him not knowing it belonged to him in flying class.

The free period before dinner sees the entirety of the first-year class out in the field just outside the castle and in a large courtyard. There were two sections of brooms laid out, with each section having brooms facing each other with an aisle between them so Madam Hooch can walk up and down to assist anyone who needs it.

Each section has 20 brooms, 10 facing another 10 with the aisle between them. One was slightly longer with an extra broom, making the entirety of the 41-student grade fit in the class. There didn’t seem to be any other teachers there, just Madam Hooch, which made the student-teacher ratio even more abysmal than in normal classes. Rochelle really needed to get on sending a letter to Lucius to bring attention to how shittily the school is run.

The girl walked to the class with Hermione, as the two were in the library for their normal free period study session. This led to Rochelle finding a space directly between the Gryffindors and Slytherins as Draco had snagged the spot next to her the moment he saw her.

On her left side was Hermione, with Neville next to her and Harry with Ron next to him. On her right side was Draco, then Blaise and Ophelia, with the other Slytherins continuing the line. The other Ravenclaws were in the other section of brooms, so it was strange to see a blue uniform sandwiched between green and red.

She had planned with Draco on what they would do, but before the class started, she took a moment to review what had happened in the original. Should she allow Neville to hurt himself? Probably, but only so she and Draco can execute their plan. Maybe she can try to cast a cushion charm so his fall isn’t as bad? That is, if she can remember the spell and cast it in time.

Flying was something she was not exactly thrilled about. A number of times during the summer, Draco had tried to get her to fly with him, but she had declined. The excuse she gave was that there was no point when they were mandated to take a flying class at school, so why learn on her own at home?

The truth? The idea fucking terrified her! She had a pretty bad fear of heights, but mainly just falling from them. She has been on roller coasters in her past life and was fine since she had the security of knowing that 1) they would never open a ride that didn't secure the passenger to ensure safety, and 2) the ride operators test the rides every single day before they open the park, and if it doesn’t pass the tests, they don’t open the ride that day.

But riding on a fucking stick in the air with no harness, seat belt, or anything but her own shitty grip keeping her on, coupled with the fact she didn’t know how to control the broom, and there were no nets or other safety measures? Oh yeah, she did not like the idea of flying one single bit.

She was probably more terrified than both Hermione and Neville combined, but thanks to her Occlumency training, she was able to hide it well enough. No sweaty palms, shaking limbs, or apprehensive facial expressions for her. But her pulse did quicken, and she was having a hard time controlling her thoughts away from thinking of all the ways this class could go wrong. Including the notorious bad condition of the school brooms.

Eventually, Rochelle heard Madam Hooch tell students to stand by a broom if they hadn’t already. When everyone was standing next to a broom, she continued. “Stick your right hand over your broom, and say ‘Up!’ ”

The children all began saying “Up!” with varying intensities and tones. Rochelle did the same, placing her hand over the broom and saying “Up!” She had to try a number of times, with it wiggling on the ground a bit before shooting into her hand the moment she said the command with a more confident tone of voice. It knocked her off balance a bit with the intensity with which it shot into her hand.

The moment she wrapped her fingers around the wood, she could feel the way magic flowed through the broom. It was sluggish, but smooth. It was like it had a magical circuit woven within the fibers of the wood, much like wands, but it drew the magic it used from the air around them instead of from her core. She then turned her attention back on Madam Hooch, waiting for more instruction.

They were then shown how to mount their brooms, and Rochelle was even more grateful for her boy's uniform, as there was no way she would be comfortable riding a broom in a skirt. This was also the first time others noticed her pants, and Hermione gasped slightly, furrowing her brow and muttering, “Lucky. Why didn’t I think of that?” Momentarily, Rochelle thought about lending her some pants for the next flying lesson.

Madam Hooch walked up and down both aisles, helping the students correct their grip when needed. Rochelle’s grip may be weak, but she knew how to at least be steady. She gripped the broom in front of her, a bit away from her body, leaning forward ever so slightly and bending her arms a touch. She rocked her weight a bit on the broom, using her feet on the ground to spot her, and adjusted her position on the broom until she felt the most secure.

When Madam Hooch got to her, she actually commented that she looked very stable. Not comfortable, and it was clear it was her first time on a broom, but stable. She was instructed to loosen her death grip on the wood and try to relax, as she was too stiff. She corrected Hermione’s grip, too, leaving Draco alone, causing the boy to flash Rochelle a cocky grin. The twat.

Finished with checking every student, Madam Hooch then gathered everyone’s attention again and spoke loudly. “Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle—three—two—“

And on cue, Neville lifted off the ground before the whistle. He shot up about five feet instantly. “Come back, boy!” Shouted Hooch, but he kept rising, and quickly. Higher and higher until he was about 20 feet off the ground. His face was sheet white, and his hands were shaking. He looked down at the ground, paralyzed with fear, and he began leaning to the side to see the ground and the other students some more.

Trying to grab her wand, Rochelle fumbled with her uniform, moving as fast as she could. Her breathing quickened as she racked her brain for the incantation for any spell that could help, like the cushioning charm. She knew it. She knew she knew it. Why didn't she check her notebook—new name pending— before she came to class? Cushy- spongy- what was it!?

Glancing up at Neville, she finally managed to get her wand out just as he began slipping off the broom, and she pointed it at the ground beneath him. Frantically, she said what she thought was the closest to the incantation without checking in her book. “Spongify!” And mere moments later, Neville came crashing down right where she cast the spell.

A loud thud, but no nasty crack, and Neville seemed to sink into the ground a bit after a brief bounce. Rochelle let out a sigh of relief as it seemed the charm worked, at least enough to prevent a broken arm. He would still need to go to the hospital wing, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been and should have been.

Hopping off of her broom and placing it on the ground, Rochelle looked at Neville's broom that was slowly drifting higher and away, toward the forbidden forest. Madam Hooch was now running to Neville, bending over him and looking utterly terrified, then confused as the ground beneath her feet gave way a bit, creating a soft bounce in her stance.

Her gaze shot up to Rochelle, whose wand was still in her hand, and then looked at the ground, testing it under her foot ever so slightly as she crouched to the ground to check on Neville. She checked him over, moving his wrist and causing Neville to wince at the slightest bend. “Sprained wrist. Would have been broken if not for that spell.” She looked up at Rochelle with an appreciative smile and said, “10 points to Ravenclaw, for quick thinking and saving a classmate from a more severe injury.”

She then turned back to Neville and began helping him up. “Come on, boy—it’s all right, up you get.” Turning back to the class, she called out, “None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are, or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’ Come on, dear.” She finished toward Neville before guiding him back inside.

Everyone dismounted their brooms, and Rochelle looked back up to the escaped broom in the air and pointed her wand in the air, “Accio, escaped broom,” she called softly. The broom flew in their direction as the children began speaking.

”Did you see his face, the great lump?” Someone had said. It was supposed to be Draco, but someone else had said it.

“Yeah, but can you blame him? His broom must be cursed. Good thing we have our resident Charms prodigy to save the day, right, Rochelle?” Said Draco next to her.

She looked at him just as the broom snapped into her hand, shocking all those who didn't know she had summoned it back, which was actually everyone. The moment she felt the broom in her hands, she could feel that the magical circuit within the broom was kinked and even fractured, making the magic unstable.

She eyed it strangely, brushing her hands up and down it as she said, “Not cursed, just magically broken. Thanks for the compliment, though, Dray.” Her tone of voice was dry, distracted as she studied the wood. She glanced at Draco and tilted her head toward Harry a bit, giving him the hint to talk to him.

Draco nodded his head and said, “Still, it was a good thing you cast that cushioning charm, or Longbottom would have been even more hurt.” That got everyone’s attention firmly on Rochelle as Draco made his way to Harry. While she hated being the center of attention, it was smart to make Rochelle the distraction while Draco handled the thing with Harry.

Instantly, people surrounded Rochelle and bombarded her with questions.

“What spell was it?”

“Did you know he was gonna fall because you're a Reader?”

“That was brilliant spell work! Teach me!”

”How did you get the broom back?”

”How do you know the broom is magically broken?”

It was overwhelming and draining. She was flustered and tried to answer as best she could with how rapidly the questions were being thrown at her, but she luckily didn’t have to suffer for long.

”Malfoy, no! That’s Neville’s!” Ron yelled, drawing everyone’s attention to them as Harry instantly went flying. Rochelle took that as an opportunity to escape the crowd and made her way over to a furious Ron and a shocked, mildly horrified Draco.

”What? I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know! It was just on the ground— I’m sorry!” Draco stuttered out, expertly practiced and executed acting. Internally, Rochelle was proud of him.

She walked up to them and said, “What happened? Why’d Harry go flying? What was Neville’s?”

Ron turned on her furiously and viciously spat out, “As if you don’t know!” Which, granted, is a valid point.

Their attention was drawn to the other students as they cheered. Harry was flying back, Remembrall held high, and a bright and proud smile on his face. He landed a little bit away from the group. He looked at the horrified Draco, who sputtered out quickly, “I’m so sorry, Potter! I didn’t know that it belonged to Longbottom. I thought it was just an abandoned toy!”

Harry huffed a breath and shook his head disappointedly with a soft smile. “I know, but-“

”HARRY POTTER!” Yelled a commanding voice, cutting Harry off. Professor McGonagall ran toward them. “Never, in all my time at Hogwarts—how dare you—you might have broken your neck.”

”It wasn’t his fault, Professor-“ Ron began, only to be cut off.

”Be quiet, Mr. Weasley-“ McGonagall said sharply.

“But Malfoy-“ Ron tried, only to be angrily cut off again.

”That’s enough. Potter, follow me, now.” She then turned on her heel.

Draco and Harry shared a look, and Draco apologized again. Harry handed him the Remembrall and said, “Get it back to him, yeah?” He then looked down and begrudgingly followed the Professor.

Draco’s eyes made their way to Rochelle’s, and he held it out to her. “You should do it. I know you’re worried, and this will give you the chance to check on him.”

She gave him a confused expression before it dawned on her when his eyes flitted to the crowd of students getting closer to her: he was giving her an out.

”Concerned about Longbottom?” Scoffed Parkinson, who Rochelle had honestly forgotten existed, as she hadn't tried anything since school started. But now that she had started talking, she knew where this was going. “Now we know you're the type to like fat-“

”Langlock,” cast Rochelle, her wand trained on Parkinson as the girl's words were cut off. She frantically tried to figure out why she couldn’t talk as Rochelle looked at her angrily. “Shut up. Nobody likes a bully.”

She then holstered her wand and took the Remembrall, the defective broom secure in her other hand. She took a step toward the castle and said, “Go to Professor Snape to reverse the jinx, and don’t be talking shit about your betters again, Parkinson.” She didn’t clarify if she or Neville was the ‘betters’ she was talking about, but honestly, both were probably true.

Rochelle made her way inside, making quick work of the trek up to the hospital wing. When she got there, she found Madam Pomfrey fussing over Neville with Madam Hooch standing off to the side, making sure her student was taken care of.

”Honestly, Rolanda! Forty-one students, all on brooms, some for the first time! You should know better than to handle that alone and without precautions! We are lucky that Ravenclaw girl cast that charm.” Pomfrey was chastising Hooch, and honestly, Rochelle agreed with her.

Walking in and clearing her throat, they turned to look at the new arrival. “Oh, hello, dear. I’ll be with you in a moment.” Said Pomfrey.

Shaking her head, Rochelle walked up to them. “No need, Madam Pomfrey. I’m not hurt. I just came to make sure Neville got his Remembrall back.” She held it out and handed it to him. His face shifted from gratitude to frustration as the smoke inside the ball instantly turned red, indicating he forgot something.

Madam Hooch looked her up and down. “You are the girl who helped Longbottom, no? You should be with the other students. What was your name again?”

Rochelle looked at her with a warm smile. “Rochelle McCullen, Madam. The other kids were swarming me, so I took returning Neville's things back to him as an escape.” She then held up the broom. “I also know why he went shooting into the air. The magical circuit is fractured and tangled, making it highly unstable. I don’t think it can be repaired, so you might need to scrap this one.” She handed it to Hooch.

Hooch took the broom with a bewildered expression as Neville said, “Thank you, Rochelle. I appreciate it. Both for returning this and for saving me.” He held up the Remembrall with a warm smile, seeming more comfortable with her than before.

Rochelle smiled brightly at him in return. “Of course. That’s what friends are for. No need to thank me next time, ‘kay?” Neville blushed slightly and nodded his head. “Oh, and it’s saying you forgot your tie.”

He looked down at his lack of neck tie. “Oh, thanks!” He looked at her again. “Again.”

Pomfrey huffed a bit. “Well, as touching as this display of friendship is, this is a place for the sick and injured. Rolanda, why don’t you escort Miss McCullen back to your class? Mr. Longbottom is well in hand.”

Hooch cleared her throat and nodded her head. “Right, yes, very right. Come now, McCullen. Back to class.” She began ushering Rochelle out of the room.

Before she allowed herself to be shooed away, she went to Neville and whispered in his ear, “Remember, the new password to your common room is ‘Pig Snout’.” Hopefully this will prevent him from being locked out for hours tonight. She then scurried away from the boys confused expression.

On the walk back, Hooch looked at Rochelle from the corner of her eye before she spoke. “So, how exactly do you know what is wrong with the broom? And how did you retrieve it?”

Rochelle looked at her and shrugged nonchalantly. “I used Accio to get it back. I can also feel the flow of magic when I'm touching things sometimes. I knew what a working broom feels like cuz of the one I was on in class. That one was kinda sluggish, but smooth, so I figured it was safe. That broom feels…damaged? I don’t know what words to use to describe it, but magic doesn’t run through it very well.”

She scrunched her nose up as she tried to think of the best way to describe it. Describing how magic feels or works seemed to be something she had a hard time with, if her attempts at helping her peers with charms and tutoring Draco in defense were any indication of her teaching abilities.

Hooch nodded her head. “It seems like you’ve got a talent. Be sure to nurture it well. All magical fields are like flying and Quidditch. Talent sure is helpful, but without nurture and practice, you’ll fall and get hurt.”

Rochelle smiled up at her. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Madam Hooch.”

The woman smiled in return. “Of course, dear. Now, to return to class.”

They finally returned to the other students, and the class continued. Many students, including Draco, were cleared to not need the class, but the rest were required to return to the class for the remainder of the year until they no longer needed it. Which would probably be the entire school year for Rochelle, as she utterly sucked at flying.

Chapter Text

At dinner, Rochelle pulled Draco over to the Gryffindor table and right up to Harry about midway through the meal. Excitedly, she sat next to Harry, pushing Ron out of the way a bit and leaving Draco standing. “So, did you get it?”

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. “Get what?”

She leaned in with a bright smile. “The seeker position! You got it, right? Please tell me you got it.”

Ron gasped dramatically as Harry’s eyes widened. “How did you-“ Harry started before Ron interrupted.

”You were behind that! You almost got Harry in trouble! I was right, you're evil!” He pushed as far away from her as he could, causing Dean Thomas, who was next to him, to push back in retaliation for his space being invaded.

Rochelle rolled her eyes at him as Harry looked at him and spoke again. “She isn’t evil, Ron.” He then turned back to her and said, “But that does make sense, a bit. How do you know about that? It just happened. And it’s supposed to be a secret.”

Ron tried saying something, but Rochelle just talked over him. “How else would I know? I’m a Reader. There are some things in my ability that, if I want the same outcome, I need to let things happen naturally. Other things I have to orchestrate a bit behind the scenes. Long story short, I told Draco about your dad being a chaser, which I knew would spike his interest in how good a flyer you are. The rest happened organically, but my goal was for you to get noticed by Professor McGonagall and be made Seeker of the Gryffindor team.”

Ron scoffed. “You’re ability is bogus! No wonder you're friends with Slytherins, you're just as sneaky and slimy-“

”Langlock!” This time, the spell didn’t come from Rochelle, but Draco. “I’m getting rather tired of your slander, Weasley! I don’t care if you’re a friend of Potter’s. You need to learn some manners!” He was fuming, his face contorted in anger, and his words were spat with the same venom Rochelle would expect from Draco in the books or movies.

Harry looked at Draco with wide eyes. This was the first time he had seen Draco act like this. He probably didn’t know the blonde boy had it in him to be mean in any capacity. To Rochelle’s knowledge, Draco has been nice and friendly, if maybe a bit shy, in Harry’s presence. This may be a bigger shock than Rochelle can fully comprehend.

She looked at Draco, impressed and touched by the defense, before turning to Ron. “That’s the spell I used on Parkinson, by the way. It can only be reversed by the caster or Professor Snape. So, unless you apologize and stop being a colossal dick, you’re probably gonna be stuck like that for a while.”

She then turned to Harry again. “I really hope I didn’t hurt our friendship. It’s just, the way you get the position in my reading can’t happen anymore because I’ve changed things too much. So, I wanted to make sure you were still on the path fate has set out for you, which includes you being the Gryffindor seeker in your first year of school. Are we good?”

Harry’s eyes shot to Rochelle’s, and he frantically nodded his head. He seemed startled or afraid, so Rochelle put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Harry? Are you ok?”

”Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just not looking to be jinxed is all.” He said it so seriously that Rochelle couldn’t help but laugh while patting his shoulder.

”As long as you aren’t being a bully, Harry, you have nothing to worry about! Ron can get the jinx taken off by writing an apology to Draco and me, or go to Snape and ask for help.” She let go of him. “But seriously, are we good? Are you upset with me?”

Harry took a steadying breath and blinked a few times before nodding. “Yeah, we’re all right. But I’ve got to ask: why is Snape the only one who can undo the spell besides the caster? He’s a right git, so it can’t be his generosity.”

Ron began tapping Rochelle on the shoulder, trying to gain her attention, but she ignored him to answer Harry. “Oh, because he created the spell. He knows how it works better than even me. And before you ask, no, he didn’t teach it to me. I know it from my readings.”

Ron’s shoulder tapping progressively got more aggressive until Rochelle groaned and whipped her head around and yelled, “What!?” He looked like he was trying to say something with hand motions, and while she couldn’t understand what he was trying to say, it was clear it wasn’t an apology, so she turned back around.

Draco was watching Ron struggle and was trying to hide his laughter, but was failing. When Harry turned around to look at Draco, the Slytherin instantly stopped laughing and smiling, and even dared to look a touch sheepish. “Did Snape teach you? You know, because you’re in his house.”

Shaking his head, Draco glanced briefly at Rochelle before returning to Harry. “Rochelle taught it to me over the weekend. We were taking a break from practical magic study, and she… offered.” The more he spoke, the more Harry looked a mixture of betrayed and upset, so the quieter Draco’s voice became.

“In other words,” Harry said, “you’re new to the spell and probably don’t know how to undo it. Did you learn it just to use it on my friend?” Draco’s head frantically shook, and he opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the boy.

He turned to Rochelle. “Did you teach that spell to him just to cast on Ron? And the manipulation; I want a more detailed explanation later.”

Rochelle sighed and tilted her head back briefly before looking back at him. “No, I didn’t. I taught it to him because he seemed intrigued when I had mentioned it. I could teach you spells too, if you’d like. I don’t mind. I am a Ravenclaw, and I fully believe knowledge is meant to be shared.”

Ron was now standing up and putting himself between Harry and Rochelle, forcing the girl to look at him. He angrily waved a piece of paper in her face, which she ignored. He then backed away, balled up the paper, and chucked it at her face, hitting her in the cheek and giving her a paper cut just below her eye.

Rochelle froze. Her blood was already boiling with irritation, but now she was mad. She didn’t notice, but her eyes began to change color to a fiery orange. They glowed with pure rage at Ron's fucking audacity to not only practically pound on her shoulder, but to throw a piece of paper and cut her face, just to get her attention.

Besides the rage-fueled color change of her eyes, the rest of her face and body language were perfectly calm. She turned to look at Ron, and he froze, seeing her eyes. His face drained of color when she asked in a too-calm voice, “What the fuck do you want, Ron? I know you’re not going to apologize sincerely so quickly.”

It hadn’t yet occurred to her that the majority of her Gryffindor friends, the only exception being Neville, didn’t know she was a metamorphmagus. And even then, Neville had only seen her change her hair color and nothing else. He may not know she can change her entire appearance.

Ron slowly pointed at the paper ball on the floor, mimed unwrapping it and reading it, then looked back at her, looking less scared. Where he got that courage was beyond the girls' understanding, but then again, he was a Gryffindor. They’re kinda known for courage. Rochelle didn’t move, just watched him with a cold expression and practically glowing orange eyes.

Draco reached down and picked up the ball of paper, unscrunching it and instantly bit his lips as he read, trying to hide a smile. “You’re challenging her to a wizard's duel? Seriously?” Ron crossed his arms over his chest and smirked, nodding his head and lifting his chin.

Rochelle’s head snapped over toward Draco, and slowly her rage died down. The more she thought, the more calm she became. So this was how the timeline was correcting itself. A small smile began forming on Rochelle’s lips when her eyes returned to normal.

“A wizard's duel? What’s that?” Harry asked, noticing the smiles Draco and Rochelle were trying to hide.

“He wants to fight me.” Said the girl, donning a full smile, and a soft giggle formed in her voice. “Basically, two wixen fight with their wands only, no physical contact. Each duelist has what’s called a Second, who finishes the fight in the First's place should they become incapacitated in some way or die. You can forfeit, of course, but it’s frowned upon. It’s basically a fight for honor, but Ron here wants to use it to prove he’s better than me or something like that.”

Draco couldn’t hold his laugh, and it came out in a snicker, earning the gaze of all three children. Rochelle tried to hold her laughter at the ludicrous idea that Ron knew more magic than she did at this age, and was succeeding better than she expected. “Really? You think you can beat her in a duel?” He said. “I bet all the gold in Gringotts he loses in seconds!”

Rochelle put a hand on her chest. “Aw, thanks, Dray.” She cooed softly. She then looked at Ron and thought, while Draco explained what he meant by that, talking up how many spells she knows and even mentioning her notebook and how many spells she has in there, and that she can cast all of them.

Should she accept? The duel challenge after flying lessons is plot-relevant, as it leads to the first discovery of Fluffy. They have Astronomy tonight, so it can’t happen at midnight like the book did. There is also no way, being the recipient of the challenge, that the trick book-Draco did on them will happen. There is no reason to tell Filch that there will be students out of bed to get them in trouble. And Ron is honestly too much of a Gryffindor to do something like that, so he will definitely show up if she accepts.

Guess it’s decided then.

She stands up in front of Ron, gaining the attention of the other two boys. “I accept your informal challenge to a wizard's duel. Draco will be my second, and I suggest Harry be yours.” She had to hold back a quip about Harry being his only friend, so his options were limited anyway.

Ron apparently had been listening to Draco talk about how skilled Rochelle was with magic and actually looked scared at her declaration, but nodded anyway, looking at Harry for his acceptance.

“What? No way! I don’t want to fight her! People die in wizards' duels!” Harry said with a pout.

Rochelle huffed out a soft laugh. “Harry, I’m not gonna kill either of you. I won’t even cause you bodily harm, I promise. There are ways to win a duel without incapacitating or killing you.” She then looked back at Ron and smiled as she said, “Charm's classroom at 11:00 tonight. That gives us time before Astronomy class. Sound good?”

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding his head and putting out his hand to shake, which the girl did. Just as they were shaking on it, Hermione cleared her throat.

“Excuse me.” She said, earning the attention of all four children. “I couldn’t help overhearing what you all were saying, and you mustn’t go wandering around the school at night. Even if we have a class near that time. Think of the points you’ll lose if you’re caught, and you’re bound to be. It’s really very selfish of you.”

She turned a bit, looking right at Rochelle. “And you. I’d have thought you smarter than this. Really, accepting a stupid, petty duel? You’re above that, Rochelle.” She looked disappointed and hurt, like this action was a direct betrayal of her friendship.

Rochelle’s smile faltered. She knew Hermione spoke up at this point in the book with words nearly identical to those, but being chastised directly like that kinda hurt. She knew Hermione would be there tonight, trying to stop this duel from happening. But it has to happen; otherwise, the plot could be entirely lost.

Hermione’s expression changed slightly to something haughty. “Not to mention, I’ve seen that notebook Malfoy mentioned while we studied together. If she truly can cast every spell inside it, you don’t stand a chance, Ronald.”

“Ha!” Rochelle let out a surprising laugh before covering her mouth with her hand. After a few seconds of everyone staring at her, she walked over to Draco and linked her arm with his at their elbows. “On that note, see y’all tonight!” She then began dragging Draco back to the Slytherin table before anyone could think to ask him to remove the jinx.

Back at the table, Draco asked what all that was about, and she told him about how he had challenged Harry to a duel and how this plot point was relevant to this year's story arc. He looked confused at her wording, but he seemed to brush it off somehow. She would probably have to explain later, or just keep using terminology like that until it becomes normal when referencing ‘her ability.’

She does manage to ask Draco to meet her at the stairs to Ravenclaw Tower around 10:30 so they can go together before dinner ended, and they went their separate ways.

That night, Rochelle met up with Draco at the bottom of the stairs leading to Ravenclaw Tower, and she instantly led him to the Astronomy wing under the cover of a disillusionment charm and Silencio on their shoes to silence their footsteps. He followed her quietly, and if he wasn't nearly invisible, she was sure he would have a confused expression when she led him right to the forbidden corridor.

There was a spell she wanted to test. The sound-making spell, Musica Flumen, is a spell that allows the caster to produce any sound that they have heard in their life from their wand. The thing was, all the music she knew was from her previous life, so there was the possibility that those memories would conflict with the spell and cause it not to work.

Her theory on the matter is that it could work if she had heard the song with her ears in this world, like the songs on the CDs she has recorded. However, that may not work, so she needed to test it. If it doesn’t work, she has some contingency plans, one of them being just singing or humming a lullaby she knows, as she was caught humming a song from her past by Draco, so producing the songs with her voice can be heard.

When they get to the desired door, Rochelle cracks the door open just enough to see Fluffy licking his paw with his middle head, very much awake. She took a moment to compare Fluffy to all the different depictions of Cerberus she had seen in all different media, not just the Harry Potter movies. He looked like a mix of dogs traditionally considered scary and aggressive. One looked like a Doberman, one a German Shepard, and the last a Pit Bull. All breeds that are utter sweethearts when you ignore their stereotypes. It made Rochelle really wanna befriend Fluffy.

She slipped the tip of her wand through the crack in the door and softly whispered, “Musica Flumen” while thinking of the song River Flows In You by Yiruma. This was her favorite piano piece, and it never fails to help her calm down or soothe her to sleep. The perfect test song for this, as it was a lullaby in her opinion, and she also only has the song in her memories. She hadn’t heard it in this life.

The song began to ring throughout the room beautifully, and momentarily, Rochelle got lost in the music, but Fluffy stayed grooming himself, not paying any mind to the music. So she was right that those memories won't work. Time to try her next song.

She canceled the spell and cast it again, this time thinking of Snow White by John Michael Howell. This was one of the songs on that first CD she made, and it was the one closest to a soothing enough song to be used as a lullaby. She again heard the song she thought of ring throughout the room, and again, there was no reaction from Fluffy, so she canceled the spell. It would seem that singing may be the only option she has at this moment in time.

The other option she has is somehow getting or making sheet music for literally any song and having Morag play it for her so she can use that on Fluffy if she doesn’t wanna sing. First, she needs to see if her singing will even work.

She turned to where Draco should be and whispered, “I need to go inside quickly. Stay right here and don’t you dare come in.” Before she could get a reply from him in any way, she slipped inside and gently closed the door before taking a steadying breath. She considered herself a good singer, but that was mainly her thoughts on her 23-year-old voice. In her old life, her 11-year-old voice never got her into any talent shows or any solos in chorus at school, so it could be hit or miss here.

Slowly breathing in as quietly as she can, she began singing her favorite lullaby, her mother sang to her as a small child: Hush, Little Baby.

“Hush, little baby, don’t say a word. Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.”

Fluffy’s heads jerked up and scanned the room, sniffing the air as his eyes couldn’t see the intruder.

“If that mockingbird don’t sing, Mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.” She began singing the song a touch faster in fear of Fluffy finding her quickly, but kept the tempo still within lullaby territory.

“If that diamond ring turns brass, Mama’s gonna buy you a looking glass. If that looking glass is broke, Mama’s gonna buy you a billy goat.”

Fluffy’s eyes on his middle head—the Pitt Bull—began to flutter shut as the left one—the Doberman—yawned. The right head—the German Shepard—lowered its head and kept sniffing the air close to the floor.

“If that billy goat won’t pull, Mama’s gonna buy you a cart and bull. And if that cart and bull turn over, Mama’s gonna buy you a dog named Rover.” The irony of singing to a dog about buying him a dog wasn’t lost on Rochelle as she watched Fluffy slowly lower his middle head on his paws while the left one lay atop the middle one, fluttering his eyes closed.

“If that dog named Rover won’t bark, Mama’s gonna buy you a horse and a cart.” She slowly started to back up to the door, grabbing the handle and starting to slip back through it.

“And if that horse and cart fall down, you’ll still be the sweetest little baby in town.” Just as she was closing the door again, she could see the right head nuzzle into the other two, and a loud snore could be heard. That worked a lot faster than she thought it would. When Hagrid said music puts Fluffy right to sleep, he really wasn’t kidding.

Still disillusioned, Rochelle swiped her arm in the air until she grabbed onto Draco and began pulling him to the Charms classroom. It was almost time, and with how early they were, it gave her time to explain it to Draco because he would definitely have questions.

The moment they were in the classroom, Rochelle took the disillusionment and silencing charms off of them, and Draco instantly leveled her a look. “And what the bloody hell was that? Why were you singing, and what were you testing? What was that snore?”

Taking a breath and plopping herself in the closest seat, the girl leaned back and looked up with a heavy sigh. “That would be Fluffy. He falls asleep with music. I was testing a music spell with different songs, but neither of them worked, so I wanted to see if singing had the same effect as playing music. Turns out, the answer is yes.”

“Who in Merlin’s name is Fluffy?” Draco said with an intense look of confusion.

“You’re telling him about Fluffy? Are you gonna tell us too, or are we still left with the cryptic list?” Harry’s voice appeared at the door, and straightening herself up, Rochelle could see Ron and Hermione with him.

No Neville. Good. He must have remembered and gotten into the common room.

Rochelle stood up and crossed her arms, her wand in her right hand. “You’ll find out soon, so you’re stuck with the list. Now, for the terms of the duel.”

“No, stop! This is a stupid idea and you all know it!” Cried Hermione, walking a bit closer to Rochelle, pleadingly. “Someone will get hurt, then you will all be caught, and you’ll be expelled!”

Draco scoffed and shook his head. “This needs to happen, Granger. Nobody will get expelled.”

“Oh? And how do you know that? Are you a prophet, too, or something?” Hermione crossed her arms, her face contorting into a scowl at the idea of more divination.

“No, but Rochelle told me, and she’s never been wrong before.” Draco walked over to a desk and sat down.

Harry took a step closer to the Ravenclaw girl. “We will be ok, right?”

Rochelle nodded. “I promise, nobody will get hurt.” She then looked at Hermione. “And just so you know, you did choose to follow them out here. I know you’re trying to stop this, but if we are caught—which we won’t be—you’ll be held just as much at fault as those two, losing Gryffindor even more points. This will be over soon, then we can head to Astronomy together, ok?”

Hermione glared at her with her mouth slightly open in shock, but soon she pressed her lips together and marched over to Draco, taking a heavy seat in a huff. Rochelle then looked back at Ron. “So, the terms. Draco will take the Langlock off for the duel. If I win, you have to let him put it back on until you apologize, or you have to swear on Scabbers’ life you’ll stop running your mouth, insulting me and my friends to our faces. You can be a dick behind our backs as much as you want, but I don’t wanna fucking hear it. What happens if you win? Not that it’s gonna happen.”

Ron went to talk, but of course, he couldn’t, so he looked around and found a discarded stack of parchment and a quill. He wrote something down and handed it to the girl, looking very proud of himself.

Rochelle read aloud, “You have to admit I’m right and you’re evil and tried to get Harry expelled. You also have to stop tricking Harry into being your friend.” She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Well, first of all, I’m not tricking Harry into being my friend, so I can’t exactly promise to stop doing something I was never doing in the first place. Second, I can’t admit something that simply isn’t true. Evil would be like You-Know-Who or Grindelwald. Ya know, a Dark Lord? I’m solidly Grey-aligned so I’m not even capable of claiming a Dark Lady title. I’d have to be Dark-aligned.”

Ron looked pissed at the dismissal of pretty much all of his claims. “How about this?” Rochelle continued, “I’ll disclose all of my motivations for manipulating Draco into causing that event to occur and what was supposed to happen in the original timeline, answering all questions y’all have with no filter whatsoever. I’ll also prove to you that my ability isn’t bogus and I do actually know the future. As a bonus, I'll tell you what each of the things on that cryptic list I gave you is. How’s that? Pretty sweet deal, right?”

She put her hand out to shake as Ron seemed to contemplate those terms. There was no way to actually prove anything, not to mention she wouldn’t risk anything by explaining the list, so it was a bluff deal. But really, there was no way Ron could win, even if he resorted to physical violence. Eventually, he nodded and shook her hand.

Draco stood up and walked over to Ron, and Rochelle said to him, “It’s Finite Incantartum or just Finite. Whichever you’re most comfortable with.”

Draco nodded and pointed his wand at Ron, smirking at the slight flinch from the redhead. He cast, “Finite Incantartum.” As Ron grabbed his throat and moved his tongue around his mouth, Draco sat back in his seat.

When he finally recovered, Ron looked between Rochelle and the other three. “That’s a bloody vial jinx. Feels all sorts of weird.”

Nodding her head, Rochelle walked to the open space of the classroom. “Right, I’d assume so. Now, if we wanna pretend like this is a proper duel, we salute, bow, turn, and walk ten paces, then prepare as someone counts down from three and we cast after one. Hermione, would you do it as someone not part of the dueling lineup?”

Huffing a dramatic sigh, Hermione said, “Fine. I can do that much.” Ron made his way to where Rochelle was standing, and the two stood facing each other. Her voice sounded annoyed as she instructed the two.

“Salute.” The two brought their wands in their faces, then down and out to the side.

“Bow.” They bowed, though Rochelle’s was more refined than Ron’s. It was clear he was never taught how to properly bow, when Rochelle was drilled on it before Draco’s birthday party.

“Turn and pace.” She counted out each step the two took, and at ten, they turned back and prepared their stances. Rochelle was relaxed, loosely holding her wand in a comfortable position as she stood with her feet a shoulder's width apart and slightly bent knees. Ron, on the other hand, angled his body and opened his legs too wide, practically squatting with his wand hand raised up to his ear and his other arm out straight forward.

“Three, two, one!” Hermione called.

“Expelliarmus! Accio!” Instantly, Ron’s wand flew into the air and was summoned to Rochelle’s open and waiting hand. Duel over. She looked down at the wand in her hand and turned it over, inspecting it. She could feel remnant magic flowing through it and could easily identify two different magical signatures. One felt more brave and strong, fearless yet caring and compassionate, while the other just felt immature, but not in an insulting way. It literally felt that the second magical signature was not yet mature, fully grown.

She looked back up at the gobsmacked redhead and smirked. “You know, if you need money for your own wand, I don’t mind giving you some as a consolation prize for having the balls to challenge me. You’re gonna end up breaking Charlie’s wand next year anyway.”

Ron’s face contorted into confusion. “How did you know it’s Charlie’s wand?”

“Primary answer is my ‘bogus’ ability told me you told Harry this was Charlie's wand on the train when you first met. The answer you’re more likely to believe is that I can feel two magical signatures in your wand. From what I know about your brothers, Charlie’s personality is probably very close to how this magic feels. Brave, strong, fearless, caring, and compassionate; all traits needed as a dragon tamer.”

Ron blinked a few times. “How did you know he’s-”

Rochelle groaned and rolled her eyes. “Dude! Clearly, I know from my readings! Keep up!” she then turned to Harry. “You ready to fulfill your role as Second, or do you forfeit?”

Harry’s eyes were wide, the same as Hermione’s, while Draco just sat there beaming at her. Shaking his head, Harry swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “Nah, I’m good. I forfeit. Sorry, Ron.”

With a satisfied smile, Rochelle walked over to the pouting freckled boy and held out the wand for him to take back. “I win, so you gotta pick. Are you getting Langlocked again, or swearing on Scabbers to not be a dick in front of me and my friends?”

Glaring at the wand, Ron snatched it back from her. He looked away and to the floor as he mumbled out an answer. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you over your childish pouting,” the girl teased.

“I swear on Scabbers I’ll be nice to you and your friends' faces!” Ron practically yelled, earning a hand being clasped over his mouth by Rochelle. Her head whipped toward the door where she thought she heard a noise.

After a few seconds, she looked at Ron and dropped her hand. “Alright, we'd better get going now. I don’t want Peeves or Filch to find us. Filch is less likely, but not a complete null factor.” She then jutted her head toward the door while looking at Draco, and instantly, he, along with the other two, were all heading to the door to leave.

The moment Ron, Harry, and Hermione got close to the door, Rochelle grabbed Draco to hang back a bit. The trio opened the door, and instantly they heard Peeves squealing in delight. “Shut up, Peeves—please—you’ll get us thrown out,” whispered Harry.

Peeves just cackled. “Wandering around near midnight, ickle firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caughty.” His tone was sing-songy with an annoying ring in it. The type of voice that makes you wanna punch him in the face.

“Not if you don’t give us away, Peeves, please,” whispered Harry, a touch more frantic.

“Should tell Filch, I should. It’s for your own good, you know.” His voice was sweeter, almost enough to garner trust, but there was no way Rochelle trusted him, even if he kept their presence from Filch.

Ron tried to take a swipe at Peeves while saying, “Get out of the way,” a bit too loudly. The idiot.

“STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!” Peeves yelled at the top of his lungs, which caused the three of them to run down the stairs.

Rochelle disillusioned herself and Draco as well as silenced their feet, then pulled him out of the door and past Peeves, who was still yelling toward the stairs at the visible fleeing students. They took a left, away from the stairs down, and up the stairs toward the Astronomy Tower proper.

They made it all the way up the stairs to the Astronomy classroom in record time, but didn’t enter yet as Professor Sinistra was sure to be preparing for class. So, she settled them outside the entrance and undid the charms before placing a Muffliato charm around them.

It took another 15-20 minutes before she heard the trio coming up the stairs like a herd of elephants. The moment the trio was close enough, Rochelle extended the charm around them. They huffed and puffed in exhaustion a bit before Harry looked at her, his eyes gleaming with the type of thrill one only gets from danger.

“We just saw what’s in the forbidden third-floor corridor. It’s a giant three-headed dog!” Harry said with a mixture of shock and excitement.

“What do they think they’re doing keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?” Ron said, huffing for his own breath between every other word. “If any dog needs exercise, that one does.”

Ok, ouch. He isn’t that big. Well, at least not in an unhealthy way. He’s perfect just the way he is, and it was taking everything Rochelle had not to defend Fluffy’s honor and weight. He’s a big boy and deserves the bestest treats. Hagrid must agree and probably gives Fluffy all the best food. So what if he is a little plumper than one would expect from a cerberus? He’s perfect.

Hermione shot a look at the other two as she finally caught her breath. “You don’t use your eyes, either of you, do you? Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. “The floor? I wasn’t looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads.”

Draco looked at Rochelle and lifted a brow, silently asking if this was why she went to see Fluffy, whom he clearly connected to being the Cerberus. She simply nodded and looked back at the trio as their conversation continued.

“No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It’s obviously guarding something.” Hermione finished before walking closer to the door to the classroom. “I hope you’re pleased with yourselves. We could have been killed—”

Rochelle couldn't help but mouth the words of what Hermione said next. “Or worse, expelled.” It made her giddy a bit inside to hear an iconic line like that, even though it was slightly different from the way Emma Watson had said it.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to class.” Hermione finished before walking into the classroom, leaving the other four students within the privacy charm.

Ron glared after her with a shocked expression. “You’d think we dragged her along, wouldn’t you?”

Rochelle shrugged, tilting her head a bit. “Kinda did. Y’all could have run this way with me and Draco and avoided that room altogether.” She was about to turn to the door and cancel the spell when Harry gently grabbed her arm.

“Was that…supposed to happen? Is that why you accepted the duel, so we would see the dog?” He eyed her seriously, which only caused her to look down at his hand on her arm before looking back to his eyes and smiling softly, almost apologetically, as she nodded.

“I wouldn’t have accepted the challenge otherwise since I knew I’d easily whip the floor with Ron. Like I said before, I’m just trying to make sure you stay on fate’s path for the most part. I have the power to change a lot, but I can’t let the timeline get so messed up that I can't predict anything.”

Harry let go of her arm slowly and looked thoughtful and a bit hurt. “So you knew the dog was there? Do you also know what its protecting under the trap door?” She nodded again. “Can you tell us?” She shook her head. He sighed before nodding his head and saying. “Alright. At least confirm something for me. Is it whatever Hagrid took from that vault at Gringotts?”

Rochelle smiled a bit bigger and nodded her head. The smile growing on Harry’s face told her he was going to try asking more questions, so she put her finger to her lips in a shush motion, which halted his words. “Number three on the list: when you find out what it is. That’s all I can say for now.” She then turned to the classroom and canceled the charm, dragging Draco along with her.

That went better than expected.

Chapter Text

The second Saturday of the school year has arrived, and Rochelle informed her friends of her absence yet again. Harry was more upset than anyone. He had wanted to pester her about all his theories in hopes of getting some of them confirmed. He wanted to try to work around her rules. If she didn’t outright tell him and he thought of it himself, then she wouldn’t be breaking the rules, right?

Wrong. She shook her head at him in disappointment. “I know you’re a secret Slytherin, Harry, but so am I. You won’t be able to curb the rules like that.” His shocked expression and small blush told her that he hadn’t expected her to know he was almost sorted Slytherin. Luckily, it was just the two of them when she said that, because she would feel insanely bad if she accidentally let that secret of his out.

Now, she was trying to curb Draco’s tailing after she had left breakfast. With her map open in front of her, she could see Draco following her and Harry following him, along with Ron. It was a bit of a surprise that the two of them were following Draco, but whatever their reason, Draco can handle himself. She had an Undercroft to finish cleaning.

Of course, when she finally arrived at the area where the entrance was located, she ran through it as fast as she could, so it would appear to her little stalker that she had just vanished into thin air. Lighting a Lumos and looking at the map once she closed the door, she could see Draco get to the corner and peek around it, only to walk out quickly, then pace a bit before freezing in place. He was definitely upset that he lost her.

She then saw Harry and Ron walk up to Draco. The three—well, probably just two, that being Harry and Draco—are probably talking about what it is he is doing. Here’s hoping he doesn’t spill that she has a secret room all to herself. That could cause them to join the hunt to figure out where it is.

Whatever. Not her current problem.

She walked down the stairs and lifted the gate, entering the Undercroft. She went around and lit up the room before placing her map back into her backpack and her backpack on one of the chairs she had set up in that cozy corner she had made last week.

It took very little time to finish the cleaning. All that was left was to uncover the rest of the stored items and free the rest of the space of any dust that had moved or settled. Most of her time was actually spent decorating the place with the stored items. The paintings not consisting of people were spread throughout the room, but the three portraits she found, she put near the closed tryptic.

When she asked, Rochelle learned the two portraits were two generations of Gaunts: Ominis’ mother, Venefica, and her father, Mortis. The third was actually a great joy to find, as it was an adult Ominis. Rochelle’s reaction went a little something like this.

“Holy shit, really? You’re Ominis Gaunt? Best friend of Sebastian Sallow? Well, I guess that depends on how this canon gameplay played out. But like, seriously? Dude, I admire you so much! Let me guess, it was a tradition of sorts to put your portrait in the Undercroft for future Gaunts? That’s so cool! That wasn’t in the game, and I’ve never seen it in fanfiction. Is this a new thing just for this verse?”

Yeah…it was a bunch of word vomit that didn’t stop for several minutes. When she finally stopped, Ominis asked her how she knew him, and since she was probably the only person who would talk to them, she told the truth…well, the truth as the world knows it, not the real truth. She said she is a new type of seer who knows details of the past, present, and future. That happened to include what happened in Ominis’ fifth year at Hogwarts, but nothing before or after of his life.

Hearing this, he hummed and nodded his head. “I see. And that is how you learned of the Undercroft and how to enter it, I would assume?”

Rochelle nodded her head enthusiastically. “Yup! Oh, but don’t worry, I am actually a relative. Not from the direct line, but still. Not that you really had much of an issue sharing its location since you told Sebastian and Anne. I don’t plan on telling anyone, not even my best friends and people I consider family. They already have the Room of Requirement, and next year the Chamber of Secrets will be opened, so I’ll probably clean that place up to use it too. This will be my secret room unless my loved ones need a place to hide.”

Ominis just nodded and remained quiet. After a bit more silence, Rochelle excused herself to go to lunch, but promised she would be coming back as often as she can now that the work is done and she doesn't need to schedule a specific time to come down.

At lunch, Harry was pouting, probably about their discussion earlier, when she walked up to the table, but the moment his gaze landed on Rochelle, he smirked knowingly. When she sat down, he wasted no time. “So, what’s this I hear about a secret room not even Draco knows about?”

She groaned and slumped onto the table, gently banging her head. “Why did he tell you? More importantly, what did he tell you?”

He shrugged, still smirking. “Just that he was following you to try and see where your secret room is, and that you refuse to tell him.”

She turned her head to look at him, her cheek resting on the table. “And why were you following him with Ron in the first place? I knew why he was following me and intentionally lost him, but I don’t know why you two followed him.”

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. “How did you know that? That can’t be from your ability, right?”

She sat up and sighed. “You’re right. I’ve got a magical map. No, I’m not letting you borrow it. And don’t even try stealing it: I have a protection spell on it that hexes anyone who’s not supposed to use it. The same goes for that special notebook that was mentioned yesterday. Can’t touch it without my permission. But I can let you see them now, if you’d like.”

Harry smiled, a sense of fascination and mischief behind his eyes as he nodded. She reached into her backpack and placed the notebook—new name still pending—and her map on the table next to Harry’s plate. She focused on her Occlumency shields around the book to allow Harry to touch it, but nobody else besides herself and Draco.

He picked up the blank map and opened it excitedly. Quickly, his expression was replaced with a confused one, and before he could ask, Rochelle answered. “I told you, it’s magical. You have to activate it with the right password. It’s getting the password wrong or trying to get around the password that activates the hex. For the notebook, it’s just touching it without my permission that activates it.”

He looked at her expectantly, and she just smirked at him while raising an eyebrow. “You can’t really expect me to activate it now and tell you the password. Then you’d be able to steal it with no repercussions.”

He pouted and handed the parchment back to her. “Fine,” he mumbled before dropping the pout and picking up the notebook, inspecting it. “There are a ton of bookmarks. How are there so many? And what do the colors mean?”

Rochelle placed the map back in her backpack and smiled at Harry. “I’ve enchanted it to never end. It’s literally an endless notebook, and since the original, unenchanted notebook had bookmarks, the bookmarks also multiply as needed. The colors help me identify which sections they are marking. You can read up until…this one.” She grabbed a dark red, royal burgundy bookmark near the middle of the book.

It’s organized with all of her spells in shades of red, including all the pink shades. The royal burgundy bookmark she pointed out was the start of the fanon spells. The main categories were by school year they are taught in, with an 8th section for ones not taught at Hogwarts. Within each main section, it’s separated into common and uncommon for popularity's sake. Aka, ones everyone can recognize if you’ve watched the movies, and ones that people forget about.

Those sections are then organized alphabetically by code word function. Ex: Clean, Push, Flip, Confuse, etc. Basically, what the spell does in one word. This eliminates the requirement of memorizing the incantation to find the spell. The fanon spells are organized by what fic they are from, then separated by the same categories as canon spells.

Behind those are the custom spells she has created in this world, or she is currently workshopping. This section is divided by spells and runes. This is the system she had in her original notebook in her old life, but the only difference now is that she spends less time flipping, as she has the bookmarks.

Excitedly, Harry grabbed the light pink bookmark at the very front, the first page. He began reading all of her spells, and his mouth slowly began to drop the more he read. “You can cast all of these? No wonder the duel lasted seconds, and you only used two spells!”

“Hmm, no, one spell. Expelliarmus is the most basic combat spell, as its primary function is to disarm your opponent. Cast it strong enough, and you can knock your opponent on their ass, literally. It’s taught second year, so you’ll learn it then. You’re good at that one.” Rochelle smiled warmly at Harry as she began piling her food.

It was only then that she noticed Ron looking at the book over Harry’s other shoulder and keeping his mouth shut. He must be going by the ‘if you ain’t got anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all’ mentality. Looking around, she saw Hermione a bit further away, reading her own book while eating, and Neville was sitting with Dean and Seamus a little ways away.

“Then what was the other one you used?” Harry asked, looking up at Rochelle with stars in his eyes.

“Accio, the summoning spell. If what you want to summon is within eyesight, you can just say the base incantation. But if it's not, you can specify it with English phrases. For example-” she raised her wand, “Accio apple.” And within seconds, an apple from somewhere at the table shot into her waiting hand. “I have no idea where this came from, but now I have an apple.” She placed it on her plate and kept grabbing other food. “I used it in the duel, so Ron’s wand went into my hand instead of who knows where in the room. That one’s taught fourth year.”

Harry gasped at her display of magic. “Wicked!” He then kept flipping through the spells while Rochelle began eating. When he got to the section of spells not taught at Hogwarts, he flipped a few pages and stopped. “I found the Langlock one!” He said this excitedly, but mainly to Ron, who had stopped trying to read over his shoulder. Harry then read it softly aloud.

​

“The Tongue Locking Jinx

Incantation: Langlock

Etymology: “langue” Latin word for “tongue”, English word “lock.”

Classification: Jinx

Counter: Finite Incantartum or Finite by caster or creator.

Description: Locks the victim's tongue to the roof of their mouth, inhibiting speech and use of the vocal cords.

Creator: Severus Snape in the 1970s during his school years. Was found in his old potions textbook.”

​

Harry looked at her with a confused expression. “How do you know all this? This looks like your handwriting, so you had to have made this. And what does, ‘was found in his old potions textbook’ mean?”

Rochelle had to pause and think for a few seconds. She could just write it off as her ability again and leave it at that, but maybe he deserves a bit more honesty? Yeah. If she actually considers Harry a friend, then he deserves as much honesty as she can give.

Swallowing the food in her mouth and clearing her throat, she looked at Harry. “Most of those spells I found in textbooks or through research.” A lie, kinda.

“I just simplified and consolidated the information I found, then organized it and wrote it in a singular place for quick reference.” The truth.

“As for that last part, I know that specific spell and ones like it from my ability. In truth, a student finds that spell in an old textbook that used to belong to Snape when he was a student. That’s actually how I know that privacy charm I always use: Muffliato? It’s in that section, if you wanna take a look.” She finished with a bite of her food as she watched Harry flip through the section a few times before finding it and reading it to Ron.

​

“The Muffling Charm

Incantation: Muffliato

Etymology: Fancified version of “muffle.”

Classification: Charm

Counter: Finite Incantartum or Finite

Description: Used in an area around a person or space. Essentially creates an invisible field in which anything within it can be heard by those within it. However, anyone outside the field will only hear a buzzing sound.

Creator: Severus Snape in the 1970s during his school years. Was taught in the past, but found in his old potions textbook.”

​

When he finished, Rochelle spoke again. “It’s a common spell a lot of people use, and Flitwick even taught it to fifth years a few years ago, which would make those students seventh years now. However, not many people know Snape created the spell as a student. At some point, you might see someone dangling someone else by their ankles. That’s another spell Snape made that became popular in the school. Point being, he’s a genius when it comes to spellcraft. Honestly, if he wasn’t such a brooding bully, I’d admire him more.”

Harry slowly nodded and went to close the book when it was snatched up rudely by one of the twins. “What do we have here? Looking through a girl's diary, Potter?”

“For shame. You know better than to touch a lady’s things.” Said the other twin.

Harry and Ron looked at them with shock and fear, which the twins interpreted as their guilt, before Harry said, “Oh no. The hex!”

They both looked confused before the one who grabbed the book looked down at his hands, flipping them over a couple of times before smirking at them. “What hex? Is this book hexed Rochelle?” He looked at the girl as she stood up and reached out for the book, which he handed right to her.

She put it into her backpack immediately and brandished her wand toward the guilty twin. “Yes, actually. Do you wanna see what it does? Or would you prefer I cancel it before the effects start? You’ve got two seconds.”

The guilty twin’s eyes widened, and so did his grin. The other twin spoke with an equally excited expression. “We wanna see.”

Rochelle shrugged and lowered her wand. “Suit yourself, but lemme guess this time.” She pointed to the guilty twin first, then the other. “Fred, George.” Just as the two beamed at her and nodded, much to Rochelle’s delight, Fred’s hands slowly began to bleed.

The twins, along with Harry and Ron, looked down at Fred's hands. The bleeding was slow at first, but eventually it was dripping onto the floor of the Great Hall. Ron let out a disgusted sound, and Harry covered his mouth; his eyebrows crashed together. The twins, however, were staring at the event with fascination.

“Does it hurt?” George asked his brother.

“Nope. Just a bit gross.” Replied Fred. He then flipped his hands over a few times more, causing more blood to drip onto the floor. “I don’t think I have any wounds. Where is it coming from?” he looked at Rochelle.

She simply shrugged. “No clue. In all testing, the source was never found. I’d have to do a Muggle blood test to know if it’s 1) even real blood, and 2) the same blood that runs through the victim's veins. If left for a prolonged period of time, the victim doesn't get anemic, so I doubt it’s the victim's blood.” She spoke so academically, yet so casually, that even Harry began looking at Fred's hands in curiosity.

“Alright,” she suddenly said, raising her wand to him again, “I don’t wanna cause a panic if people notice. Finite. Evanesco. Scourgify.” Within moments, the blood was gone, and Fred's hands stopped bleeding. “If you wanna see it more, we can do that, preferably not in a public space.” She reclaimed her spot at the table, and the twins took the open seats on her other side.

Harry leaned in to her and whispered. “Is that the kind of thing you do in your secret room?”

She looked at him with a smirk. “One of them. Draco actually helped me test it out. So no, it wasn’t in my secret room, just the other one that literally anyone can enter.”

Harry looked at her with pleading eyes, and a gentle tap on her shoulder drew her attention to an identical pair of pleading eyes on her other side. With a playful groan, she grabbed the apple she summoned earlier and her backpack. “I’m not telling you now. You'll find it eventually.” And with that, she walked out of the great hall and headed to the Room of Requirement. If they followed her, then so be it. They’re getting a face full of wall-like fabric.

In the Room of Requirement, the same setting as the time she brought Draco and Blaise there, Rochelle found herself sitting in one of the chairs, meditating. She was focused on her occlumency in preparation for the lesson she would have today. It was a surprise when the door opened, and there was a loud “ow!” on the other side of the rigid curtain.

Her eyes flew open, and she waited. There were a couple of knocks on it, and a voice called out to her. “Rochelle, darling? Mind if we come in?” A smile instantly found itself on her face as she got up and made her way over. She dispelled the curtain, and she pushed it aside to reveal a smirking Blaise and Draco holding his nose with an upset expression. “Lovely spell. A warning would have been nice.”

The two stepped in, and the moment the curtain was closed again, she cast “Speluca Secure” and turned around to face them. “You saw me cast it last time. And you saw me cancel it when we left. What did you think it was?”

Draco scoffed. “I don't know, but a warning, or an explanation, would have been the courteous thing to do.” He plopped down on the couch, bouncing a bit. “I think it broke my nose.”

Blaise took one of the empty chairs, sitting on it sideways with his legs over the arm of it. Rochelle sat beside Draco and gently took the hand holding his nose by the wrist. “Lemme see.” He let her take his hand and turned his nose toward her. His lower lip was slightly jutted out in a cute pout, and there were some tears forming in his eyes.

As gently as she could, she brought her fingers to his nose and applied the smallest amount of pressure on the bridge between his eyes, then gently tapped the pressure down his bridge to the end of the bone.

Two taps on the cartilage, near the tip of his nose, Draco winced and pulled back. She withdrew her hand and sighed in relief. “I don’t think it’s broken, and the fact that your nose isn’t bleeding means it wasn’t hard enough for a blood vessel to pop. It’s fine. It’ll hurt for a bit, but don’t touch it, and the pain will stop soon.”

She smiled warmly at him and squeezed his hand. He returned the squeeze and pouted more dramatically. “But it hurts,” he said softly.

Rochelle huffed a soft laugh and stood up, dropping his hand. “Of course it hurts; you walked into a wall. I promise you’ll be fine.” She then walked back to the chair she was previously in and reclaimed her seat. Looking back at Draco, she could see him dramatizing the injury more by the second.

It was adorable, these moments when Draco let himself be himself. When he could be childish without getting corrected by his parents or judged by their peers. It was one of the things that endeared her to the brat when they were getting to know each other. Those times they sat in her room, or the library, or his room, or outside, and talked, or played games, or just simply existed. It sparked genuine affection in her for the person. Not the character, not the actor he vaguely looks like, but Draco Lucius Malfoy, the living, breathing human being.

She cares about him more than she expected to. He feels like the closest thing to a real best friend she has ever had. She claimed Blaise was her best friend to the twins before, and she would do the same for Draco if asked, but between the two, Rochelle feels more attached to Draco. If he hadn’t asked her to stop seeing him as a brother, that would definitely be what she would define her growing attachment as.

Blaise broke her out of her musings with an annoyed and exhausted groan. “I’m so bored! Darling, Love, Sunshine, please entertain me?” Blaise looked at her from his horizontal and lazy position on the chair with a wide, comical smile.

Blaise was an interesting person to get to know. The first time he used a term of endearment like that casually with her, it shocked and confused her. She was momentarily uncomfortable with it until she heard him do the same thing to Draco, and he hadn’t batted an eye, just returned with a term of endearment of his own.

The snarky, flirty, smart Italian boy rarely questioned the why of how she is and simply accepted her for all her flaws and quirks. It nearly made her cry when she realized he actually meant it when he said he wanted to be her friend. Sure, he made it seem like he’s only sticking around because she entertained, amused, and intrigued him, but he was there when she felt homesick during one of his visits over the summer.

He caught her crying silently in the corner of her Rec Room. Instantly, he was by her side, hugging her, rubbing her back, and gently petting her hair without a word. The action pulled the silent tears into sobs against his shoulder for god knows how long. When she was finally calm again, he asked her if she wanted to talk about it.

She explained that she was homesick. She wasn’t used to a big house, or luxury, or servants, or fancy food, or even food in this country. She missed American food. She missed the house she grew up in. She missed the people she knew. She missed pets, the parks, restaurants, grocery stores, wild animals, and the fucking rancid-smelling air one expects in her home state. She missed everything from her home. And she couldn’t tell him that home wasn’t even visitable since it was in another universe, in another time period.

Blaise listened to her. Comforted her. He was simply there, letting her know that she wasn’t alone. When her rant was done, he asked if there was something from home they could do here to help her feel better.

That was the first time Blaise and Draco ever had Muggle pizza.

She, along with Blaise, had convinced the Malfoys to allow the children to go to the Muggle side of the UK to find a pizza place, using her homesickness as a guilt trip. They agreed with the caveat that an elf would go with them in hiding, as they didn’t want to dirty themselves with the muggles. After asking a few places, they found an honest to god Domino’s in Luton, Bedfordshire. The floo was essential for travel around the UK, but eventually the three had a pizza in the restaurant.

Draco and Blaise were immensely confused about how to eat it when they weren’t given utensils to eat with, only a pizza slicer and a spatula. Rochelle showed them how you follow the pre-cut lines of the pizza with the slicer until the pieces move freely, then use the spatula to put it on your plate.

She laughed her lungs out at their shocked faces when she handed the tools to them and immediately ripped a piece away from the pizza like a normal person. They were aghast to learn you eat this dish with your hands.

She cried again, this time with joy, with her mouth stuffed with pizza adorned with her favorite toppings. Draco was confused by her tears, but Blaise just smiled warmly at her.

Now, though, Blaise was begging her to entertain him, and she simply rolled her eyes and replied, “And what would you have me do? I was kinda busy when you decided to grace me with your presence.”

Blaise sat up straight and kicked off his shoes, bringing his knees to his chest on the chair as he faced Rochelle more. “Oh? What magical hijinks were you up to? Can you teach me?” He beamed at her, his eyes glittering with interest.

Smiling back at him, she thought for a moment how to respond. She would tell him the truth, obviously, but it was how to respond that made her pause. Should she keep it blunt and simple? Or should she info-dump?

Well, if these two were relaxing and being truly themselves, so would she. Info-dump it is.

“I was practicing Occlumency. I'm learning from Professor Snape twice a week, and I have a lesson again today, so I was trying to strengthen my walls. If you wanna learn, I don't mind trying to teach you, but you have to fully understand the theory first. Here.” She reached down to her backpack and shuffled through it for a few moments.

When she finally emerged, she held out the two books Snape had given her. “Professor Snape gave me these. I finished reading them and planned on returning them today, but you can give them a read while we are here, if you want.”

Blaise leaned forward and took the books from her, scanning the names. “These aren't allowed at Hogwarts. And Occlumency isn't taught. Why, and how, are you getting lessons from Professor Snape?” He curled an eyebrow at her with a skeptical expression.

She shrugged nonchalantly and leaned back into the chair, closing her eyes. “I blackmailed him into teaching me.”

There was a moment of silence in the room before Draco stood up so fast she heard his feet slam against the floor. “You blackmailed my godfather!?”

Rochelle hummed softly, keeping her eyes closed and her body relaxed. “I guess more specifically, you could say I'm still currently blackmailing him. Remember how I said I know a lot about him due to my ability? Well, he doesn't want people to know that information. So, I get Occlumency lessons in exchange for keeping my mouth shut.”

She opened one eye to peek at Draco. He was looking at her in angry astonishment, standing in front of the couch with his hands loosely in a ‘wtf’ position. “What?”

Blaise chuckled and leaned back against the chair. “How in Merlin’s name did you not get Slytherin?”

Rochelle opened her other eye, about ready to abandon practice before the lesson. “I made a compelling argument to the Hat using logic and backed it up with facts, garnished with my own opinions and feelings. I believe the exact words it said before announcing my house were: ‘While I truly believe you would utterly thrive in Slytherin, feeling at home while firmly believing in the house's core values is the foundation of what I do.’ Ravenclaw is what I got, and you'll respect it, Zabini.”

Blaise raised his hands in surrender while Draco flopped back on the couch while grumbling. “How could you blackmail my godfather and not tell me about it? How long has it been going on?”

Rochelle tilted her head in thought before looking at Draco. “The meeting I had with him after your party and before you opened presents? I practically threatened him into submission by endangering his career.”

Draco looked flabbergasted, clutching his chest near his throat and blinking rapidly while Blaise laughed. “You mean the same day we met, you threatened the Potions Professor into giving you extra lessons? How could you threaten his career? You're not exactly the most well-connected to get him fired and barred from future employment elsewhere.”

The girl smirked and retrieved her notebook—new name still pending…she really needs to get on that. “Basically threatened to disfigure his hands so badly he would never be able to brew a potion again when he was mean to Dobby. You’re welcome to skim through the spells in here and guess what I’d do. You can do that to entertain yourself. Anyway, if you don't mind, I'd like to practice, please. You can read the books till we have to leave for dinner.”

She placed the book on the coffee table, then closed her eyes again and decided to ignore any further noise or talking from the two, focusing on making her initial wall as strong as possible.

The day ended with another brutal lesson from Snape, in which he was even more ruthless in attacking her shield. Her only mild success was when she remembered she had the option to layer her initial shield, with each broken shield absorbing one of the invaders' momentum. Having layered 3 shields together, it took Snape a whole 8 seconds to break in! It was slow going, but it was progress nonetheless.

The following day, Sunday, Rochelle spent the first half of the day floating around and spending most of her time with her friends. The second half of the day, however, she spent in the library studying something she was positive the answers would more than likely not be there: The Dark Mark.

Based on her knowledge of what the Dark Marks' functions and features are, along with all the spell knowledge she has, it is a fair deduction that the mark is a combination of spells. She is about 80% sure there is some bastardized version of the Protean Charm in the mix somewhere, along with some kind of binding to Voldie’s soul or magic.

The Protean Charm is the focus of her research this time, as all she knows is that in the 5th book, Hermione uses it to charm coins for communicating when Dumbledore’s Army would meet. The ‘master’ coin gets changed, and the ‘slave’ coins change in response, letting off heat as an indicator of the change. The ‘slave’ pieces don’t affect the ‘master’ in the same way, but the base similarity to the Dark Mark is there. That is a burning sensation when a mark is touched, causing other marks to burn too.

Right now, she is searching for every morsel of knowledge about this charm in the entire library, then she can try and figure out what needs to change within the spell to allow two-way modification for communication. The great part about this experiment is that she gets to make some Christmas gifts for her friends as a result. Win-win!

Chapter Text

One week after the first flying lesson on Friday, Harry received his broom from McGonagall at breakfast. The commotion at the Gryffindor table drew the attention of the entire Great Hall, save for two Slytherins whose eyes immediately snapped toward Rochelle the moment the large package carried by six owls landed on the table in front of Harry.

Her back was to the rest of the room while Blaise and Draco sat across from her with a full view of the room. The girl looked at the two, eyes jumping back and forth a few times, before she sighed and simply decided to narrate as best she could without turning around.

”Harry is probably just now reading a letter expressly telling him not to open it at the table. It’s a new broomstick from Professor McGonagall; a Nimbus 2000. Since he was made Seeker, she got him one so he doesn’t have to play on a shitty school broom. Now, I’m sure he and Ron are gonna run out to open it.” She then looked at Draco. “If you wanna go intercept his way upstairs, that's what you did. Only this time it won't be antagonistic, and you can be happy for him.”

With that, Draco ran from the hall as fast as he could without being too obvious, and as Rochelle turned around, she saw the two Gryffindor boys running from the hall with the long package in tow. She wondered how the conversation would go, and genuinely hoped that Harry would still credit getting the broom to Draco, only this time being sincere.

Hermione soon walked out of the hall too, looking very angry. “Are you going to follow them?” Said Ophelia, to Rochelle’s right.

Turning back to the table and looking at the girl, Rochelle shook her head. “It’ll be fine. I just hope Ron isn’t a prat to her again.”

The next morning, Harry went out to the Quidditch pitch to learn from Oliver Wood about the game. Ron went with him to watch, while Rochelle spent the entire day researching, having taken a sizable number of books from the library and brought them to the Undercroft for complete privacy.

Surprisingly, within the books recovered from the Undercroft, one was actually a charms book from 1783 that had more detail on the Protean charm in particular. Cross-referencing with all the other books, Rochelle was able to find that the original function of the charm was actually a guiding change, not one of servitude, where the master object dictates what the servant object looks like. The servant object was never identical to what the master object dictated, and the spell added a level of sentience to the objects.

Due to the passive and practically doormat-like temperament the spell gave the ‘servant’ objects, when altered to function more proficiently, the relationship between the two objects became more master-slave to escalate efficiency. If one were to either alter the temperament of both objects to be more equal or eliminate the semi-sentience altogether, one would, theoretically, have a two-way Protean charm.

Needing to eventually test her theories, Rochelle figured out how to owl order things and ordered 20 small notebooks with a singular ribbon bookmark, 10 pocket-sized notebooks, along with letter types and paint in black and white. With that, she will have everything she needs to make the Christmas gifts, which is what she spent her free time doing for another week and some change.

She heated up the letter types and burned the letters gently into the cover of the books, labeling 8 of the pocket-sized notebooks with her friends' names, with one for herself. She did a similar thing with the other notebooks, but made double the ones with her friends' names. She had a few spares with no names, just in case she got a new friend, but she made ones with Luna’s name, just in case she got to befriend her next year.

Once all the names were burned into the book's covers, she changed the colors of them after doing some asking around for favorite colors and labeled each one with each person's respective favorite color. Then, using the black or white paint, depending on the book's color and what showed up best, she painted in the burned names, making them stand out.

Even though she went through all that work, she would continue testing the two-way Protean Charm until she could get the result she wanted. And here’s a tip from the future: this task would take her until her birthday, just before the Winter Break.

On Tuesday, October 1st, Rochelle realized she really needed to stop procrastinating on figuring out what to do about a key event of her first year: Halloween. So instead of her normal study session with Hermione, she spends the free period before dinner in the Room of Requirement, having an internal debate about what to do. The key points of this event that she cares about are actually minimal. Nonetheless, she finds that her first option is to check off one point on her list of goals for this year: get the stone.

You see, Rochelle is operating on the mindset of ‘my priority is Draco, then Harry, but I’ll save whoever I can.’ When Dumbledore destroyed the stone at the end of book 1, he sentenced Nicolas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle, to death. The dude was 665-666 years old at this point, and probably has had people after the stone the entire time since its creation. And now, after one particularly annoying wizard goes after it, and nearly does because the defenses are something that three first years can get through, suddenly it’s deemed too dangerous and a threat?

Yeah, no. Not good enough for our girl.

So, one of her goals that could fuck with the timeline is to steal the stone before anyone else can get to it in order to return it to the Flamels so they can keep living if they so choose. Halloween would be one such instance where she could steal it, as Quirrell would be the perfect distraction. However, the downside is that she has no idea what Dumbledore has set up in the last room without the Mirror of Erised there. So she quickly takes stealing the stone off the options list for Halloween.

The next option she has is to protect it with Snape. He won’t like it, but if she helps, she can possibly prevent him from getting hurt, and thus prevent him from being branded as evil by Harry. The downside of that plan is that it may put her on Quirrell-mort’s radar as a negative factor, which would fuck a bit up in her long-term plans. So, into the bin with that idea, too. Snape will just have to deal with getting hurt.

Her third option is to be in the bathroom with Hermione, letting Harry and Ron save the day. She toyed with the idea of playing hero and saving Hermione herself, but that would fuck with the Golden Trio’s friendship timeline. This is a key event of their friendship, and if the boys don’t save Hermione, they may never be friends.

The real question is, does she want to be a part of the Golden Trio’s friendship built on trauma bonding? Surprisingly, when she searched herself for the answer, she came up with a resounding no. She is perfectly happy being a close friend who helps out in their shenanigans as someone they can rely on, but the Halloween event is the founding plot point of the three of them becoming a family.

Rochelle has Blaise, Draco, maybe Narcissa by extension in time, and probably even Ophelia. Despite the Slytherin girl wanting nothing to do with her shenanigans. Point being, she already has people that she can consider family the same way the Golden Trio does. She doesn’t need them to be her friends that way, and they don’t need her friendship in that way.

Her final option is to simply do nothing and let it all happen. That runs the risk of people being mad at her because there would be no way she could have possibly not known about something as big as this.

She can imagine it now; Harry and Hermione, mad at her for letting them be in a dangerous situation. Harry, specifically, mad once he brings up that he is suspicious of Snape, and she actively says he is innocent. They probably won’t trust her with anything or come to her when she needs them to. It is a very good thing she already told them to meet with her after the feast, and presumably after the troll incident.

This will just have to be one of those times she lets things play out. Doing nothing on Halloween, it will be. But there was nothing that said she couldn’t help protect by proxy. Would Hermione like to learn a new spell?

On the following Friday, Rochelle had her normal double DADA period, but it was slightly different this time. Having decided on Tuesday what the plan for Halloween is and all the reasons she didn’t go with another option, she felt that perhaps it would be alright to start early with one of her plans: get close to Voldie and play the family card.

What solidified this decision was the fact that she could not stop thinking about Voldie in that damn turban. She needed to ask how bad it was in there, or the curiosity might just eat her alive! Granted, she justified this reckless move by saying it was a long-term play; secretly, she just wanted to know what life as a scab was like.

“T-t-t-that w-will be all c-c-c-class!” Quirrell stuttered out, laughing uncomfortably as the students all left the room. He turned to the blackboard and began cleaning it off while Rochelle slowly packed up her things.

When she knew she was the only student left, she walked to the front of the room to the man. “Professor Quirrell? I was wondering if I could speak to you in private? Preferably in your office in case other students enter the room?” She smiled innocently at the man as he turned around to face her.

”M-miss Mc-C-C-Cullen. Of course, of c-c-course! T-th-this way.” As he spoke, he looked into her eyes. He was smiling uncomfortably and jumped lightly as he turned to lead the way to his office.

She followed while reinforcing her Occlumency shields with as many layers as she could in her short time, rifling through her recent memories to hide away anything she could think of that she wanted to keep from Voldie. When inside the office, she closed the door and debated putting up a muffliato, but opted to hold off until Voldie or Quirrell started yelling, which was bound to happen.

”W-w-w-what can I h-h-help you w-with?” Said Quirrell as he sat down at his desk and smiled at the girl.

Rochelle walked closer and kept her innocent smile on her face. “I was just wondering, how stuffy is that turban? I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, and Tommy can’t be doing too hot in there.” She tilted her head and looked as though she were concerned about ‘Tommy’s’ well-being. What possessed her to suddenly call Voldemort, aka Tom, Tommy, completely eluded her, but she was gonna just roll with it.

Quirrell’s eyes went wide as he sat up straighter. He starts to stammer out quickly, “I d-d-don’t know what y-you c-could p-p-possibly—“

”Dude, you can drop it.” She interrupts him with an annoyed clip in her voice, her tone showing clear exasperation. “I know you don’t actually have a stutter. I also know that you have the Dark Lord on the back of your hea—know what? Just let me ask Tommy face-to-face.” She smirked softly as she made the demand, as carefree as can be, as if she didn’t just say what she did.

Quirrell’s face contorted slightly in anger. “M-Miss McCullen! I d-d-don’t have a clue wh-what you’re t-t—“ He was interrupted by a raspy voice sounding almost as exasperated as Rochelle felt.

“You useless fool! Let me see her!” Quirrell stammered incoherently, too quiet for Rochelle to hear. Eventually, he turned round and slowly, carefully unraveled the turban.

The girl stared, controlling her face as much as possible to not show any shock or disgust at the sight before her. It truly was grotesque. He had a nose, but it was flat and squished against his face. His other features looked as if they were carved into Quirrell’s head. They were red, raw, but not bleeding. His eyes looked like they were almost bulging out of his head with nearly nonexistent eyelids. The irises of his eyes were solid, bright red, almost glowing. His mouth had no actual lips, just a thin line cut into the head with teeth behind it.

The raspy voice from moments ago came from the slit of teeth. “Insolent little girl. How exactly did you know our secret? How long have you known? Who exactly are you, Rochelle McCullen?” His voice was clearly mad, but there was a touch of genuine curiosity in his tone.

The girl shrugged as nonchalantly as she could manage. “You’re smart, Tommy. You can figure it out. I’m a new type of Seer. I’ve always known you were there.” She could feel a pressure coming from the conjoined being. It was imposing, but for some reason, Rochelle wasn’t nearly as scared as she thought she should be.

Voldemort hums in understanding. “I had heard as such, but seeing as you hadn’t shown signs of it whilst in class, I never believed it.” His voice was relaxed, unbothered by the revelation. Then it took a harder edge as he practically growled out. “Now, what do you want?” His voice felt like dragging your ears across gravel. It took everything in Rochelle not to wince.

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, trying to play it off as if it didn’t feel like her ears were being scrubbed by cheese graters, hearing his voice. “Nothing important. Take it down a notch, ‘kay? I’m not a threat to you. If I wanted to, I could have run to ol’ Dumbles any time and told him you were here, but I don’t wanna do that. I wouldn’t do that. Not to you, Tommy.” Every time she called him that, what minimal movements Voldemort’s face could make froze for a fraction of a second. Like he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Quirrell twitched, like he tried to turn to face her, but wasn’t allowed. So, his words landed softer and not nearly as frighteningly as he probably meant them to be. “How dare you speak to the Dark Lord with such familiarity!? How dare a child such as you refer to him as—“ it sounded, from his tone of voice, that he was actively sneering in disgust as he said, “—Tommy?”

Rochelle looked at Voldemort's face as if she were looking through the head at Quirrell’s face. Her expression was bland, and her voice expressed a clear “duh” tone. “Because he’s family? I’m a descendant of the Guants from the line in America under Isolt Sayre. I know you probably don’t see how that is relevant information because you don’t know the Dark Lord’s real name.” She smirked at the creepy scab face. “But he knows. I think, since I’m related to him, I am allowed to be familiar with him and give him a nickname. So, Tommy, it is. Any issues with that?”

Voldemort’s face looks thoughtful, absorbing this new information as Quirrell tries to lecture her. “Silence! You will show my master the proper respect he is due-“

”Quiet!” Voldemort interrupts him yet again. He then looks at Rochelle with as much of a cocky smirk as he can muster with the restricted facial structure he has. “Interesting that you claim as such. As you have no proof, I cannot believe you are any relative of mine. The important question here is where your beliefs and loyalties lie. Tell me why I should not kill you now.”

Quirrell lifted his wand behind his back in such a way that it looked a bit painful. He pointed it right at her, so she returned it by drawing her wand and pointing it right back at him with no sign of fear. In fact, she even smirked a bit evilly at the thought of maybe sending some kind of curse at the pair. Not a comforting thought if you look too deeply at it, but right now it served her well by giving her an air of calm confidence.

”Do you really think I’d be here talking with you like this, being familiar with you and claiming you as family, if I were on Albus Dumbledore’s side?” Her smirk morphed into a look of barely contained rage. “I fucking hate him with every fiber of my being. I could never and would never be on his side.” An easy smile found itself back on her face. “If you don’t believe me, use Legilimency. I know you can. You have my permission.”

Since not a single word of what she just said was a lie, she didn’t find anything wrong with opening her mind on that topic. She wasn’t on Dumbledore’s side. Nor was she on Voldie’s, but the point was to let him think she was. She did hate Dumbledore a fuck ton, so she saw no reason to lie.

She checked her shields and actually lowered the layered initial shields. She then quickly secures all of the memories she doesn’t want him to see in her mindscape’s Undercroft. She scours her library for every one of her past life books that had her feelings on Dumbledore.

In theory, if she at least focused on how those memories make her feel, he should feel the fury and rage and believe her without seeing the memories themselves. So, she opened the books and laid them all out to play in her mind at the same time. The fury she feels when she sees his face in the Great Hall. The hate and disgust she feels when he is brought up in conversation. Every negative emotion she feels for the meddling bastard is placed on a silver platter for the scab's perusal. The resulting emotional response was an overwhelming amount of unchecked, burning rage.

Without preamble, he enters her mind and instantly feels the literally burning emotions she is experiencing when thinking about Dumbledore. It’s so intense that Quirrell actually cries out in pain. Lucky for the girl, the cries of pain and flinching movement of the teacher caused Voldie not to dig any deeper. It made clear sense to Rochelle instantly that he was worried about preserving his host body until he could secure a better body.

Once Quirrell caught his breath and recovered from the pain, Voldemort looked at her again. It was obvious he didn’t feel the pain of her burning emotions. “I see. Your emotions don’t seem fabricated.” The girl took this time to put her defenses back in proper order. “Am I to assume we share the same views and opinions? Am I to assume you are worthy of being my family?”

He was being oddly accepting and calm. What angle was he playing? She simply tilted her head slightly and raised her eyebrow as if nonverbally saying, “What do you think?” She didn’t confirm or deny anything, just allowed him to form his own conclusions.

Voldemort chuckles softly, and isn’t that another chilling and disgusting sound? “Then perhaps you should explain your friendship with the Granger girl as well as Harry Potter. If you are to be on my side, why befriend my enemy?”

Rochelle, surprising herself, actually giggles. Is he serious? He’s supposed to be a genius, isn’t he? Maybe he just wants to hear the obvious conclusion out loud? Who is she to deny that? Maybe she can get some brownie points for being clever and cunning.

“Hermione is a very interesting case. For one, she is incredibly smart and will rank first for our year, every year. Why not take advantage of her genius to better my own grades? For another, by Halloween, she will be one of Harry’s best friends. That leads to my friendship with Harry: how else can I manipulate him? Think about it, Tommy. Wouldn’t having someone close to Harry be advantageous to you? I’d be like another type of spy, like Pettigrew was with the Potters. Or like Snape with Dumbledore. The only difference with me is that they entirely think I’m on their side from the start, instead of switching sides or double-agenting. They wouldn’t know where my allegiances lie.”

She is misleading him as best as she can, cranking up those acting skills to the max. The only part she is actually outright lying about is allowing him to think these are her true feelings. She can play devil's advocate. She can think like Voldemort when he had his sanity intact to spin this into the narrative he wants to hear. The only trouble is making sure he isn’t reading her mind. Luckily, Legilimency, when not natural, requires eye contact, and being someone who dislikes eye contact, she is more than happy to avoid looking at his red eyes and instead look at his “lips” or nose.

Voldemort seemed to actually be thinking about this. Why isn’t he more erratic? Isn’t he supposed to be more insane than this? Or is it that he only acts erratically when talking to Harry? Are his wits more about him than she originally thought?

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence as the scab thought, he spoke again. “It is a shame you aren’t in Slytherin. You would have done well.”

This pulled a laugh from the girl. Everyone seems to think that about her. “Oh, I told the Hat to put me where I thought I belonged. I’ve always felt like a Ravenclaw. Plus, I would stand out too much in Slytherin since my normal, every-day bubbly personality doesn’t really fit their vibe. Also, it’s a lot less likely for a Ravenclaw to be a secret traitor than a Slytherin, so it’s a better cover.”

She paused for a moment, then added. “I’m ignoring Barty Crouch Junior being a Ravenclaw Death Eater. At least it worked in his favor until someone else ratted him out.” She shrugged, tossing the comment aside. A lot of people forget he was a Ravenclaw. They just associate all Death Eaters with Slytherin and call it a day. This makes the girl momentarily wonder if there were ever any Hufflepuff Death Eaters, since there were ones from the other 3 houses. Maybe she will ask someday.

There was a sudden noise outside the office door. The next class must be arriving, so they have to end the meeting. Voldemort quickly says, “We will speak again, little descendant of the Guants. Do not presume yourself safe as of yet.”

Just as Quirrell was about to put the turban back on, Rochelle reached a hand out as she holstered her wand with the other hand. “Wait! You never answered my question! How stuffy is it in there? Have you sneezed and gotten covered in snot? Come on, I need to know! Curiosity is killing me!”

Voldemort yells in his gravely, cheese-grater voice, and the girl nearly flinches. “Silence, you disrespectful child! Do not speak to me as such and demand answers from me!” His eyes flashed red, and he bared his teeth like some kind of animal. His magic filled the room, causing his words to weigh heavily and be sharp, intimidating.

Rochelle couldn’t help but giggle and smile at him with the most genuinely joyful smile she could make. The magic was intense, but she couldn’t control the string of giddy little giggles that escaped her. Very, Bellatrix Lestrange of her. “Oh, you’re gonna love me soon enough. Just you wait.”

She waved her hand excitedly. “See ya later, Tommy! I’ll be in touch, and I expect an answer next time!” She then turned on her heel and skipped right out of the room with a childish smile on her face. She did make sure to close the door quickly behind her since Quirrell hadn’t yet put the turban back on. All in all, this was a successful surprise meeting, despite not getting the answer she wanted.

Operation “Undercover Long-Game” was officially beginning.

During the free period that same day, she is yet again in the Library with Hermione. Luckily, nobody else joined them today, so it gave Rochelle the perfect chance to talk confidentially with the Gryffindor girl.

She threw up a Muffliato and leaned forward toward the girl on the other side of the table. “Hey, I wanna teach you a sixth-year charm. Are you interested?” She spoke bluntly, not wanting to waste any time.

Hermione’s eyes shot toward her with wide eyes. Her expression then morphed into confusion as her mouth opened and closed a couple of times. Eventually, she landed on a simple, “Why?”

Rochelle smiled at her warmly. “I know you don’t believe in divination, and you more than likely think my ability is fake.” She held up a hand as she saw Hermione open her mouth to say something. “It’s ok. I know you haven’t shared your feelings or thoughts on the matter, probably because you’re worried about losing me as a friend as a result. Don’t worry about that. I don’t care if you believe me or not. I just need you to trust me when it’s important.”

Hermione closed her mouth and, after a moment, nodded in understanding, or agreement, not sure which, honestly. She then raised her eyebrows slightly and said, “So, what does your ability have to do with wanting to teach me a sixth-year charm? I mean, I’m not going to turn down an opportunity to learn something new, but I’d like to know why. I also don’t want to be breaking any school rules.”

Rochelle smiled brighter and nodded her head in understanding. “I just wanna make sure you can protect yourself. I won’t be teaching you any attack spells or anything like that. I want to teach you Protego, the shield charm. Just the basic one, not any of the other variations. So, I don’t think it’s against the rules.”

She pulled out her notebook—name actually in progress, a few ideas have been crafted—and opened it to the Shield Charm page. She turned it toward Hermione and pushed it forward. “Here. Read that and let me know if you wanna learn the base charm.”

Hermione leaned forward, careful not to touch the book, having seen what it did to Fred. She read the page to herself. Her eyes widened at some portions, and her mouth opened slightly. “This is very succinctly organized.”

​

The Shield Charm

Incantation: Protego

Etymology: Latin for “I defend” or “I protect.”

Classification: Charm

Counter: There is no real “counter” to a shield. The only things that can break through it are Unforgivables when the shield is at its strongest.

Description: Creates an invisible shield that reflects spells or blocks physical entities.

Creator: Unknown, but was in common use by the 15th century.

Other Variations:

• Duo: More powerful than the base spell, but not as powerful as the rest.

• Maxima: Stronger than Duo, but not Horribilis. When cast in conjunction with Fianto Duri and Repello Inimicum, it makes a nearly impregnable barrier. For physical attacks. (Latin-greatest, highest limit)

• Horribilis: Most powerful of the base charms. Used to target ill intent. (Latin-Horrible, frightful, dreadful. “Protect against the horrible”)

• Totalum: For an extended time over an area. Used to repel an intruder and/or spell except Unforgivables. (Latin-as a whole)

• Diabolica: Dark charm that encircles the caster in black flames that incinerate enemies while letting allies through unharmed. It can take the form of a fire creature, much like Fiendfyre, without the sentience. (Latin-diabolic, relating to the devil. “Protection from the devil” or “the devil protects”)

Rochelle smiled and nodded. “Thanks. It took a while, but this should have nearly every spell organized the same way. Anywho, what do you say? Let me teach you?”

Hermione’s face went through a myriad of emotions and expressions. She must be wondering what Rochelle thinks is going to happen to her to teach her this spell. She must also be torn between trusting her friend and her beliefs, or lack thereof, in divination. Eventually, she nodded her head with a determined look in her eyes. “Alright, I’ll let you teach me. I’m concerned about why…but I’ll just enjoy learning an upper year charm.”

Rochelle clapped her hands excitedly and giggled. “Yes! Okay! Let’s work on it tomorrow! I want to make sure you can at least cast it at the weakest level to repel physical attacks. We can worry about being stronger against spellfire later on.”

She canceled the muffliato and went back to studying, taking back her notebook and acting like the conversation didn’t just happen. When the two eventually made it to dinner, Rochelle stopped at the Gryffindor table and pulled Hermione over to Harry. She had this thought a while ago, but now she needed to see if it could happen.

As the girls approached Harry, he looked up at them quizzically. “What a surprise. Are you sitting with us again?”

Rochelle shook her head. “Nah, I just wanted to ask the two of you something. Harry, Hermione, would you two like to do a hair care day with me?” They both look at her, confused, so she continues. “This is gonna sound rude, but it’s pretty clear to me that neither of you knows how to take care of your curly hair. So, I wanna teach you.”

Harry’s brows furrow. “How would you know? Your hair is straight.”

Rochelle looks at him, not taking the sass in a negative way. “I can know about stuff that isn’t relevant to me, like curly hair care. But I can also do this—“ she changed her hair texture from 1b to 3c, “—so I can experience curly hair problems firsthand.”

The two of them, along with Ron, who is also there but chose to be quiet as per his swearing to be nice, as well as a few of the people around them, look at her hair with shock. She returns it to normal and simply explains without being prompted. “I’m a metamorphmagus. I can change my appearance at will. Anywho, I noticed that, Harry, you just don’t know how to style your hair. Hermione, your hair is really dry, and it looks like you're treating it like straight hair when it’s not.”

After a few more moments of staring, she gestures at them and says, “So? Are we gonna have a hair care day or something? I’ll look into permission to use the Prefects' bathroom since it’s the closest we have to a co-ed bathroom.”

After another second, Hermione perks up. “Yes! I’d love to!”

Harry nodded his head and added, “If I can figure out how to make my hair look better, I think I’d like that, so sure!”

Beaming brightly, Rochelle hugged her friends quickly. “Yay! I’ll figure everything out and let you know when and where!” She then skipped to the Slytherin table, sat down and began eating.

After dinner, she began her research into wizarding hair care and compared it to her era's Muggle hair products to find what is most parallel with what she knows from her old life and decade.