December 1994.

Parents will often teach their children magic that isn't part of the school's curriculum. It helps that underage magic is difficult to discover in magical households, but having a legislator father who could make the Ministry's letters disappear with a flick of his wrist; this also meant that we would get homework when school was out.

On my eleventh birthday, a special trip was arranged by my father – we were off to purchase my very first wand. I remember bursting with excitement. After practicing simple tricks with his wand, I would finally have one of my own. Looking back, I've realized that my father spent time teaching my brother and me hoping to fill the void left by my mother's passing. It was his way of giving us something to do and we often used it to torment our nanny and the house elves when he was away. I wasn't a good student because I was intelligent beyond my years, it was simply because of the practice that not everyone had a chance to get. Not everyone had to grow up as quickly as we did.

Besides, we had nothing better to do in the sprawling, empty manor but fill our days with reading and magic, in between stuffy formal events we were expected to show up for.

Our father's habit of conducting private lessons continued well into our school years. When I was fifteen, during an especially hot July spent in Cornwall, he called me into his study. There, for the remainder of the summer, I was taught magic that he told me should only be used in matters of life and death — spells that I would not be allowed to show my friends or even my brother. I thought of it as a sacred promise, it was a secret that would remain only between my father and me. Though the magic was beautiful, it had little use in everyday life.

Confronting a massive fire-breathing beast that was determined to wipe me out felt like the right time for using that kind of magic. As I was quite literally running for my life, I wasn't even considering the spectators around me. When the dragon unleashed its scorching blue flames in my direction, fear took over and I wasn't concerned about any aftermath – my priority was to escape with my head still on my shoulders.

As it happened, luck was on my side. In the aftermath, no one was commenting on the magic I'd used. It seemed that even the professors hadn't taken notice, perhaps the flame's blue hue served as a kind of camouflage to the audience. Even Graham, who happily recounted the event to anyone who would listen, didn't raise any questions about the spell itself.

I had settled into a routine of school work and gossip, Amelia and our fourth roommate Natalie Travers providing most of the latter.

''This might interest you,'' she said during dinner one night turning to me. ''I heard, mind you from a very trusted source, that Beatrice Galston has a thing for Montague. She's been following him and Pucey around all week like a lost puppy.''

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. ''Oh, which one is she? Is she pretty?'' I turned to look around the Hufflepuff table, trying to make out which girl she was talking about.

''Ugh, Rose! Don't encourage it!'' Natalie scowled with evident distaste, ''She's half-blood.''

''They're not getting married,'' Amelia countered, her eyes rolling at the comment, probably recalling her own share of crushes with different pedigrees.

Natalie snorted. ''Sure. No shame in a little dating, until they start dirtying our blood with whatever half-breed will have them.''

I wished Maggie were with us, she'd be cruel enough to put Natalie in her place. Amelia was growing irritated. ''So what? Meredith's half-blood. You don't mind her, do you?''

''Of course I don't,'' Natalie backtracked abruptly, as if she hadn't called Beatrice a 'half-breed' but a moment ago. ''But think about it, what if Meredith was into one of your brothers? How'd you feel then, huh?''

The comparison left me pondering, attempting to understand its relevance. Personally, I didn't see any problem with Meredith or Beatrice being half-blood.

Amelia's patience seemed to waver, her voice growing more determined. ''Natalie, times are changing. Personally, I'd rather have some muggle blood than six toes.''

Natalie scoffed, her tone dripping with condescension. ''Oh, how noble of you, defending blood traitors and mudbloods. Perhaps you'd like to invite them over for tea?'' Her lip curled into a sneer. ''You're naive if you believe that status won't always matter. Just wait.''

As their argument simmered down, the arrival of my owl was a welcome distraction. Swiftly, it swooped down, delivering a thick parcel and a letter. The owl's soft hoot caught my attention, prompting me to reach out and retrieve the items. Grateful that this time my post was delivered directly to me, I offered the owl a piece of meat from my plate as a token of gratitude. I wasn't in any rush to open the parcel, what really sparked me with excitement was the letter coming from Romania.

Amelia glanced at the parcel. ''What's that?''

I shrugged nonchalantly, "Just some stuff I ordered." I quickly hid the letter from Charlie beneath the parcel, hoping that they wouldn't notice. Almost immediately, a sense of embarrassment washed over me. Was I really that susceptible to the opinions of others? To the opinions of Natalie Travers, who couldn't tell her arse from her elbow?

My internal conflict lingered as we walked down to our dormitories. Soon after, Amelia and I found ourselves alone in the bathroom. Sitting on the heavy marble sink, I was applying a green mixture of seaweed and balms onto my face. Meanwhile, Amelia was lathering her hair with a concoction of nicely smelling oils.

''Is it ever weird for you? The blood thing.'' I asked, my voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.

She raised an eyebrow. ''You mean would I mind being serious with someone who's not... pure-blood?''

I nodded, my eyes drifting away from hers.

She paused in her oil application, her expression thoughtful. ''Honestly, no. Not really.''

''How?'', I probed, like a child questioning the color of the sky.

''You know, my family has enough sons to pass the name. They wouldn't support me getting with just anyone, but you know... the pressure is off, kind of?'' She seemed to be still mulling it over as if she was questioning whether it was really the truth or if she had just managed to convince herself of it. ''Is it for you?''

''I don't know.'', I answered honestly.

''Could this possibly have something to do with a ginger dragon tamer?''

I stopped in my tracks.

''He's a dragon researcher. And no.''

Amelia's grin was nearly audible. "Oh, come on, Rose. I've seen the way he looks at you."

I felt my face heating up. "I... I don't know what you mean.''

"I don't think you should be embarrassed. There's nothing wrong with finding him attractive."

I let out a sigh, my gaze drifting to the floor. "It's complicated."

''Ugh! It's not like you're planning to reproduce with the guy...yet.'' She grinned and winked.

''You always have a way of putting things in perspective.''

Amelia shrugged, still working on her hair. "So what? He's still pure-blood, that's got to count for something. Maybe your father can overlook the whole 'blood traitor' thing, you never know.''

I looked at her, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions stirring inside me. Could it be that simple? Could my father's love for me outweigh his beliefs? It was a question I hadn't dared to consider until now.

We were silent for a while and when Amelia finished applying the oils, she turned to me with a knowing look. ''You know what I think? I think you should live a little. Dip your quill into a few inks before you decide what color you want to write with.'' She made a small pause as if carefully choosing her next words. ''Don't be so rigid.''

Rigid. I really didn't like that word.

I waited for all three of them to fall asleep before reaching under my bed for the letter. With a flick of my wrist, I unfolded it eagerly.

Dear Rose,

I hope you're doing well and that the book I sent didn't trouble your owl too much during the trip.
I enjoyed reading it and thought you might like it too. The narrator reminded me of you.
Let me know what you think.

Take care,
Charlie

I read it over and over, my fingers tracing the letters as if they held some hidden message. Even his damn handwriting looked nice.

Once I was done, I frantically dug under the bed to grab the parcel. I ripped the brown paper and unveiled an emerald green book adorned with golden letters that shimmered in the light of my wand.

— Relics of Eastern Europe —

A smile stretched across my face. I'd mentioned that I was taking Ancient studies just once, in a drunken rant. Yet he remembered.

''Gosh, turn that stupid light off!'' Meredith groaned from her bed.

The next day, I kept the book by my side constantly, stealing moments to read whenever I could. Graham and Amelia were less than impressed when classes ended, and I still had my nose in it.

''Hello? Anyone home?'' Graham waved a hand in front of my face. When I didn't react, he tried to grab the book, but I pulled it away like a dragon protecting its treasure. The thought brought a small chuckle to my lips. ''I swear, she didn't act like this even when she found out there was a potions class for pyromaniacs.''

''I think it finally happened Graham,'' Amelia faked a sad expression without lifting her eyes off the newest issue of Witch Weekly, ''The fire's lit, but the cauldron's empty.''

I shot them both annoyed looks and stashed the book back into my bag.

''You're insufferable. Both of you.'' I said with a hint of grumpiness, grabbing some sweets from the small table that separated my armchair from the couch they occupied. ''And Alchemy isn't just about burning stuff. You'd know that if you weren't dropped on your head as a child.''

Pucey walked in, looking as flushed as usual. Lately, he always appeared as if he had just finished flying for miles before entering a room.

''And where were you?'' Graham called him to come closer with a crooked finger.

''On a walk, Mother.''

Graham pouted. ''Next time you decide to take a two-hour stroll, give me a heads up so I don't have to sit here in silence, waiting to hang out. I watched Amelia read a magazine, that's how bored I was.'''

Pucey ran a hand through his hair, chuckling, and dropped himself onto the couch between them.

Amelia looked at us sitting in silence and scoffed, ''Should we maybe go out sometime? When's the last time we did anything remotely interesting?''

''I just fought a dragon, I think I'll pass,'' I said, enjoying how that could become my new excuse to avoid things I didn't feel like doing.

''You fought a dragon? I stopped Amelia from cursing Bell's face off yesterday. Try that!'' Graham said, with the tone of a warrior recounting his last battle.

''Pass,'' Pucey and I chimed in unison.

Pucey raised an eyebrow at her. ''What'd you wanna do that for?'' It always amazed me how even centuries of rivalry couldn't deter Graham and Adrian from worshipping a good Quidditch player, even the annoying loud ones.

Amelia shrugged. ''I dunno, she was looking at us weird.''

Graham bowed. ''Thank you for your service. Fending off evil glances and saving the world, one disdainful look at a time.''

Everyone was busy chatting away. Some were discussing recent politics, rules of nature and the cosmos, and some Celestina Warbeck's most recent divorce. Over at a table, Malfoy and Zabini were in a heated chess match, moving their pieces with all the focus they could muster. A bunch of boys, ranging in ages, were gathered closely around a radio, listening to a Quidditch match between the Chudley Cannons and Tutshill Tornados. The atmosphere was tense because the Cannons were losing, and their disappointment was followed by many groans.

All of a sudden, the noise in the common room shifted to quieter conversations. The boys clustered around the radio tidied up their robes, and an atmosphere of politeness seemed to settle over the room as Professor Snape walked in.

''I assume you're all getting ready for bed, so I'll keep this short,'' Snape began, looking at the now orderly common room that seemed to say 'Nothing to see here'. He went on, speaking steadily, '''As is the tradition with the Tournament, which I'm sure I don't need to explain further, there will be a ball held on Christmas, or if you prefer, Yule Eve. All three schools will be attending, and the event is open to students from fourth year and above.''

Among the students, looks were exchanged, ranging from excited nods to audible grumbles of annoyance.

''I will remind each of you that your actions will represent not only your highly esteemed school and this house, but also the legacy of Salazar Slytherin. I expect the highest level of decorum.''

''Yes, sir.'' we all collectively murmured.

''Miss Nott, do make sure you have a suitable partner who can handle a simple waltz. The Champions will lead the opening dance.''

''Of course, sir.'' I replied.

We were all on our feet by now, and a hush had fallen over the room.

''Very well then, off to bed or whatever you were engaged in – assuming it doesn't involve losing any house points,'' he added with a slight edge as he turned to leave. However, he paused for a moment before departing, his back turned to us. ''And Mr. Bletchley, do ensure you're punctual for the next prefects' meeting.''

''We don't just need a suitable partner for you,'' Amelia whispered, mimicking Snape's voice from our charms class..''He needs to be smokin' hot and smart – everyone should see you're having a blast.''

''Isn't that the dream...'' I whispered back to her.

''Give me a list, house by house. I want options, and I'll devise a strategy on how to—''

''Miss Rosier, is there something you'd like to share with the class?'' Professor Flitwick's voice held a gentle fake curiosity.

''No, sir,'' She replied quickly. ''We were just discussing our mutual interest in the Bubble-Head Charm.''

I stifled a chuckle, but she shot me a warning look to keep it together. Professor Flitwick's large eyes blinked at me, and for a moment, I felt like I was eleven again.

''As I was saying,'' Professor Flitwick continued with enthusiasm, ''It can be extremely practical in the most curious situations. Now, let's move on with...''

''Compile the list,'' Amelia whispered to me once more. ''Tonight.''

I stood alone in the girls' bathroom, my fingers tingling with the sensation of enchantment. I practiced one of the spells my father had taught me, very lightly, enjoying the sensation. Even the smell was appealing, adding to the symphony of crackling magic around me.

I raised my wand once again, conjuring swirling waves that looked like miniature fireworks bursting all at once. I moved my wand around, making the waves expand throughout the bathroom. My heart raced with a rush as I suddenly let go of the spell, dropping my wand. The spell released with a burst of light, creating reflections that danced across the tiles and mirrors. I smiled at the beauty.