September 1994.

The following morning, the entire school buzzed with the gossip from the previous night.

The announcement of the age limit left many students feeling disappointed, as it meant they wouldn't be able to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some were even wondering if there might be an alternative way to enter, like paying an upperclassman or using family connections. I had sincere doubts that any of that would work. However, with my birthday falling within the first week of October—technically making me eligible by the time the tournament was set to start— I realized why my friends were bothered and I wasn't.

"I mean, it's preposterous!" Graham whined during breakfast, absently pushing a piece of tomato around his plate for what seemed like the hundredth time. "What difference in maturity does a couple of months make? And don't even get me started on Quidditch..."

"Oh, Graham, come on. At least we'll have all that free time you were going on about last night," I said, attempting to lighten his mood. Nevertheless, he continued to torment the tomato slice.

"As if!" Amelia sighed, resting her head in her hands. "I completely forgot about my O.W.L. scores. I'll have to rearrange a bunch of classes now. Fantastic, here comes Snape, probably coming to lecture us all."

Amelia gestured to our professor as he was approaching students, a sour expression on his face, ready to review their schedules. While we had it better than students from other houses, starting the morning with a conversation about our not-so-great grades with Snape wasn't exactly thrilling, even for Slytherins.

"Rosier, sit up," he deadpanned, his expression unchanged. "Maybe pretend you didn't get an A in Potions last year."

An A to Snape wasn't just "Acceptable"; it was "Atrocious."

"I plan to marry rich," Amelia whispered to me, but Snape caught her words.

"Then perhaps you should consider Transfiguration or Divination," the professor suggested, his gaze encompassing all of the sixth-years nearby. "I'd like each of you to write an essay, explaining how the subjects you've chosen to continue will serve your future careers. Due by the end of the day."

"Yes, sir," we groaned in chorus. Our day would conclude with a double-period Potions class where we'd have to submit those essays.

"Great, and it's a Friday to top it off," Graham muttered, dropping his head onto the table, causing his tomato to leap from his plate.

We made our way to our first class with Professor Flitwick, a class we all had on our schedules.

By lunchtime, the school was abuzz with fresh gossip. Professor Moody, the infamous ex-Auror, had already conducted some chilling first classes. The fourth-year students reportedly received a vivid demonstration of unforgivable curses, causing me to worry about what he had in store for us on Monday. Amelia had already withdrawn from the class and, to my surprise, didn't have any additional remarks on the matter.

The classes for the day were relatively light, with professors discussing this year's curriculum and cautioning us against slacking off—N.E.W.T. exams were a serious matter.

Following lunch, I had a free period and I settled down in the library, quill and parchment at the ready, hoping for some inspiration to strike.

The truth was, I had no clear direction for life after school. While I excelled in dueling, the idea of becoming an Auror was likely to send my father into a frenzy. There was always the option of pursuing a job in the Ministry, but that seemed rather middle-class. Perhaps I should be a Legislator like my father? He never seems to be at work, so it can't be that hard.

I decided to cleverly omit the profession angle from my essay, focusing instead on explaining how the subjects I chose based on my interests could be valuable in different careers. There was Alchemy, a subject taught only in the final two years of school, continuing with Potions, as I had managed to earn an Outstanding in my O.W.L. exam for it. I kept Charms, as it seemed to offer generally practical skills, and History of Magic, which was a personal favorite due to its ease. While many of my peers considered it a dreaded subject, I found it exciting, like memorizing texts from a gossipy magazine, especially when paired with Ancient Runes and the elective Ancient Studies.

The pattern was becoming more evident to me, but I chose to ignore it, as I remained one class short of achieving both my essay and subject goals. Apart from Transfiguration and Astronomy, which had to be dropped due to my poor grades, the decision ultimately lay between DADA and Herbology. Although the latest DADA professor didn't particularly intrigue me, I certainly had no desire to have the smell of wet, soggy soil clinging to me three times a week. Moreover, I'll be learning about intriguing plants in Potions class—there's no need for me to know how to grow them myself, right? I couldn't actually put that in the essay, so instead I wrote that DADA would academically challenge me more than Herbology.

The library became noisier as the period ended, with Madam Pince scolding anyone she could catch. Though my free period didn't turn out as relaxing as I hoped, at least my essay was good enough to avoid Snape's lectures later.

October 1994.

While the professors were putting in extra effort to teach us manners at a school level, we were doing our utmost to undo all of them. It was a well-known secret that they would soon announce when the other school would join us on Hogwarts grounds. Naturally, the professors chose to transform us into entirely new individuals, ideally ones who wouldn't bring embarrassment to the school once the guests arrived.

On the flip side, there was the matter of my seventeenth birthday, falling on Saturday, October 8th. Amelia and Graham kept whatever illegal acts they planned strictly secret from me.

My mind was preoccupied with all the Ancient Studies classes I was attending. So much seemed attainable, yet just out of our grasp within the school's confines. I chose to take the scenic route to my next class, unconcerned about potentially arriving late. I let my imagination roam, imagining the sensation of uncovering an artifact older than the school itself. The thought of attempting, failing, and ultimately succeeding in unraveling its secrets filled me with excitement. Maybe the secrets were even more sinister than the imaginary forces that would be pursuing them.

I wrote to my father every week, a subconscious promise I made to myself at the beginning of the term. He wasn't exactly thrilled, as my growing fascination with the mysterious likely sounded perilous to him. However, he pledged to send me intriguing books from our home library regularly—the kind of books that couldn't be easily smuggled past Madam Pince.

Our classes were far from being as easy as we had hoped. Professor Moody was essentially instructing us in war crimes, instilling a fear that unspeakable dangers lurked around every corner, waiting to attack. Beans remained as tedious as ever, a man who could deliver the account of the Uprising of Elfrick the Eager with the same enthusiasm as he would recite his ghostly grocery list. Snape seemed on edge about Merlin knows what, and Roger Davies managed to accidentally singe Professor Flitwick's mustache in an unfortunate incident involving the transformation of vinegar into wine. I recounted the entire episode in painstaking detail to Maggie, his cousin.

Anticipating yet another uneventful Friday night spent lounging around the common room and wagering on which member of the Weird Sisters would be arrested next, I was taken aback when three figures suddenly appeared around a corner, quickly throwing a cloak over my head.

''Stay quiet if you want to live.''

''Graham?'', I asked, fairly certain that the exaggerated and grumbling tone belonged to him.

''Shut up, you witch!'', a female voice shrilled. It was Amelia, attempting to sound ghoulish.

They pulled me through the stone hallways, stumbling often due to the loosely draped cloak over my head and later because of the uneven stones beneath our feet. It felt like an endless journey, so lengthy that even my three kidnappers began to grumble and debate whether they should remove the cloak to hasten our progress. After what felt like another eternity, they finally took it off.

I found myself engulfed in pitch-black darkness.

''This is rather... charming.'', I remarked as my voice echoed down what seemed like a tunnel.

''Alright, let's all hold hands and move forward.'', Amelia reverted to her normal voice.

''Um... you've got both my hands, Amelia.'', it turned out that Pucey was the third kidnapper

''Alright, let's each grab different hands and proceed,'' Amelia repeated, so I decided to cheat a little and lit up my wand.

''Cheater!'' Amelia yelled, still grasping both of Pucey's hands, before swiftly withdrawing and her face turning a shade redder.

''So, where exactly are we headed?'' I inquired, pointing my wand down the tunnel which appeared to stretch endlessly in a narrow abyss

''Ugh, let's just follow the tunnel.'', Graham said, illuminating his wand and stepping forward to lead the way. They were all dressed in black robes from head to toe, while I remained in my school uniform, literally looking like a kidnapped victim.

We continued along the narrow tunnel for a relatively short duration, and before long, we were greeted by faint glimmers of light filtering in.

"Okay, so since we exited through Gregory the Smarmy, we should be somewhere near..." Graham began, tugging on a previously unnoticed ledge above us that, upon closer inspection, resembled a cellar door. "Ah, yes, the Three Broomsticks!"

With Graham and Pucey's assistance, we opened the door and ascended. Soon, we found ourselves standing in the cold, damp alley behind the Three Broomsticks.

"Nice!" I exclaimed aloud. "But why didn't we just take the One-Eyed Witch passage?"

"Honeyduke's is probably locked," Pucey replied with a shrug. It then occurred to me that it was pretty late in the evening, given that I had taken a longer route back to the common room after classes.

"Get out of those school clothes and let's start drinking, birthday girl!" Amelia half-whispered half-screamed, tossing a bag in my direction.

I changed into the clothes that she had prepared for me. The ensemble included dark brown trousers, boots, and a white shirt. In contrast to their bandit-like appearance, I looked more like a pirate. Thankfully, she had also packed my scarf that I could drape around my shoulders; I was freezing without my cloak.

Upon entering the pub, I was greeted by the boisterous singing of my housemates, among them my brother. It appeared that an additional ten or so had decided to join our little outing.

Naturally, I was overjoyed.

Given that this wasn't the first time my friends and I had pulled a stunt like this, albeit with more participants, Madam Rosmerta and the other patrons had no issue with us being there. As long as we tipped well and caused no trouble, all was fine. The plan was to wait until midnight, blow out candles, become quite intoxicated, and then make our way back to the castle, hopefully without losing anyone along the way.

So far, everything was proceeding exactly as planned.

Approaching midnight, I stumbled over to the bar to order another round for everyone. To my surprise, sitting there was my handsome knight in shining armor.

"Hello you," he greeted me with a smile.

Finally, even though I was a little tipsy, I had the chance to closely examine him.

He stood tall, with broad shoulders and well-defined arms visible under his rolled-up sleeves. His face bore a kind expression as if a permanent smile was etched into his eyes. His hair was a fiery red mess, matching the freckles that adorned his nose and cheeks. On his right lower arm, there was a noticeable large burn that made me want to reach out and touch it, but I stopped myself midway.

"Hi," I snapped out of my trance, the analysis of every small detail I could perceive about this handsome strange man. "I never introduced myself, I'm Rose."

I stretched out my hand, and he took it with his scarred one. I noticed more scars and burns scattered along his forearm.

"Happy to finally meet you, Rose. I'm Charlie."

I was still holding the smile on my face and his hand as he assisted me onto the bar stool beside him. I took off the scarf, deeming it unnecessary at this point, and set it down on the bar.

"Say, Charlie, are you up for some Fairy Wine?"

"Normally, I'm more of a Fire Whiskey guy, but who am I to say no to a pretty girl?"