As Daphne began recounting the events from her perspective, her voice steady and composed, Giza sat quietly, his mind still swirling with thoughts of the Sorting Hat and his power. He tried to focus, but every now and then, he found himself glancing at Dumbledore, wondering how much the headmaster truly knew.
Daphne spoke clearly, describing how she had been cornered by the third-year and how things escalated quickly. Blaise and Giza joined in when their part of the story came, explaining how they had arrived to find Nott threatening Daphne and how the situation had gone from words to wands in a matter of seconds.
Blaise, calm as ever, recounted his attempt to stop Nott with a spell, and how the older boy had knocked him back with ease. Then came the moment Giza dreaded—his use of magic, the power he hadn't meant to release. When Giza spoke, his voice faltered slightly, describing how his anger had taken over, how he had reacted instinctively to protect Daphne and Blaise.
"I didn't mean for it to be so... powerful," Giza admitted, his eyes flickering toward Dumbledore, who listened intently, his face unreadable. "It just... happened."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, his hands folded in front of him, but his gaze remained calm, though thoughtful, as if weighing every word spoken. Snape, meanwhile, stood rigid in the corner, his dark eyes focused sharply on Giza.
When they finished recounting the events, the room fell into silence, and Giza braced himself for what was to come.
"Ten points to Slytherin for standing up to greater odds in defense of your friends," the headmaster announced, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. His eyes twinkled with that familiar mischievousness, and the warmth in his voice almost made the tension in the room evaporate.
The three of them just stared back at him, dumbfounded. Giza, Blaise, and Daphne exchanged confused glances, not quite believing what they had just heard. They had braced themselves for punishment, for a long lecture on restraint or the dangers of unchecked magic—but this?
Dumbledore's smile remained, his eyes still twinkling with amusement, while across the room, Snape's reaction was much less enthusiastic. With a heavy, irritated sigh, Snape rolled his eyes, crossing his arms tighter. His expression was a mixture of resignation and disapproval, but he held his tongue—for now.
"Of course," Dumbledore added, his tone shifting slightly, "what occurred was not without consequence, and you must learn to better control your emotions and the magic you wield. However, I trust you will use this as a valuable lesson moving forward."
Giza nodded slowly, still unsure of how to process the headmaster's response. Beside him, Blaise's expression remained composed, though even he seemed surprised by Dumbledore's leniency. Daphne, ever the composed one, gave a slight nod, her face a careful mask of calm.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his smile fading to something more thoughtful as he looked directly at Giza. "Mr. Patel, there is more to you than you realize. Control is something that comes with time and understanding. I trust we'll see more of that in the future."
Giza swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the headmaster's words, knowing they held more meaning than the others might understand.
"It's late, and you all should return to your fluffy beds. You have lessons tomorrow," Dumbledore said, his tone light and almost playful as he waved them off.
The three of them stood up, still somewhat dazed by the unexpected turn of events, and began to head toward the door. But just as they reached it, Dumbledore's voice called out again, gentle yet firm.
"Mr. Patel, just a few words before you leave. I promise I won't keep you from your bed for long."
Giza paused, exchanging a quick glance with Blaise and Daphne, who hesitated briefly before nodding and stepping outside, leaving him alone with Dumbledore. Giza turned back, feeling the weight of the headmaster's gaze on him.
"Please, take a seat," Dumbledore said, his voice softer now, as though the true conversation was about to begin.
Reluctantly, Giza sank back into the chair, his heart beating a little faster as Dumbledore's knowing eyes studied him closely.
"Now, Mr. Patel," Dumbledore began, his tone still light but with an edge of curiosity, "where did you learn this spell? The Restricted Section, perhaps?"
Giza blinked, taken aback. He hadn't expected this. He shook his head quickly. "No, sir. I... I didn't learn it from a book."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly, his fingers steepled as he continued to study Giza with those twinkling, yet penetrating, eyes. "I see. Then how, exactly, did you come to perform such powerful magic?"
Giza hesitated, the memory of the concussive blast still fresh in his mind. "I don't really know. It just... happened," he admitted quietly. "I felt the anger, and before I knew it, the magic came out. I didn't mean for it to be so strong."
Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Magic, especially powerful magic, can sometimes act on our emotions, particularly when we are young and untrained. But yours, Mr. Patel, seemed more... intentional, even if it didn't feel that way to you."
Giza swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. The weight of the Sorting Hat's words—*ancient power*—echoed in his mind again. Did Dumbledore know? Had he sensed it too?
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his expression softening. "What happened today is a reminder, Mr. Patel, that magic is not just a tool. It is a part of us, deeply connected to our emotions and our intentions. Learning to control it, rather than letting it control you, will be an important part of your journey here at Hogwarts."
Giza nodded slowly, absorbing the words. He could feel the weight of what Dumbledore wasn't saying—there was more beneath the surface, more that the headmaster knew, but wasn't revealing.
"Right, off to bed, young man," Dumbledore said, his tone lighter again, signaling the end of the conversation.
Giza, still a little rattled by the exchange, stood up and gave a respectful nod. "Thank you, Professor," he mumbled, turning to leave.
As he made his way toward the door, he could still feel Dumbledore's watchful eyes on him, as though the headmaster knew more than he had let on. The words about controlling his magic lingered in Giza's mind, making him wonder just how much Dumbledore truly understood about what had happened earlier.
Stepping out of the office and into the quiet corridor, Giza let out a long breath, grateful the conversation hadn't gone any further. His mind still raced with thoughts of the power he had used, but for now, the only thing he wanted was to get some rest.
As the door closed behind Giza, Dumbledore remained seated, his fingers gently tapping the surface of his desk, deep in thought. The firelight flickered across his face, casting long shadows in the otherwise quiet office. His eyes, still twinkling but with a subdued intensity, followed the boy's departure.
"So, what do you make of him?" came Snape's voice from the corner of the room, his usual calm, clipped tone laced with curiosity.
Dumbledore turned his gaze toward the Potions Master, whose dark eyes were fixed on him, arms still folded across his chest. Snape had been quiet during Giza's recounting, but Dumbledore knew the wheels in Severus's mind had been turning, observing, analyzing.
Dumbledore took a moment before answering, his gaze drifting toward the faintly glowing embers in the fireplace. "Giza is... intriguing," he began softly, choosing his words with care. "There's a power in him—raw and unrefined, but significant nonetheless. His magic responds to his emotions more strongly than in most young wizards."
Snape's lips thinned slightly, his dark brow furrowing as he considered this. "You saw how he handled Nott from memory Minerva provided. That wasn't typical wandwork for a first-year. The intensity, the force—" Snape hesitated, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes, "—it reminded me of someone else."
Dumbledore's expression remained calm, but he could see where Severus's thoughts were leading. "Yes," he said quietly. "But Giza is not Tom. Nor is he anyone else we have encountered before."
Snape's gaze sharpened. "And what if he is? The boy has power he doesn't even understand, and he's already shown a lack of control. He's dangerous, Albus."
Dumbledore raised a hand gently, stopping Snape before he could continue. "He is a child, Severus, and he is still learning, as all of them are. His magic is... powerful, yes, but it is not inherently dangerous. What is dangerous is how he chooses to use it."
Snape's expression didn't soften. "He's in Slytherin," he reminded Dumbledore with a pointed tone. "Ambition, power—those are dangerous traits in our house if not guided properly."
Dumbledore sighed, his eyes softening as he looked at Snape. "Which is why he will need guidance. From all of us." He paused, his gaze returning to the door where Giza had left. "He's walking a path none of us have fully seen before, but I do not believe it will be the same path Tom took. Giza still has much to learn, and it is our responsibility to help him navigate that journey."
Snape remained silent, his expression hard, but Dumbledore could sense the concern beneath it. After a long pause, Snape simply nodded, though the wariness in his eyes didn't fade.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his mind still focused on Giza. "We must be patient, Severus. The boy has great potential, but it is up to us to ensure that potential is used for good."
"By the way," Giza began, casting a quick glance between Daphne and Blaise, "I'd appreciate if you two didn't mention this to anyone. I'd rather it not get out."
Blaise immediately let out a soft chuckle, slinging an arm around Giza's shoulder in an overly dramatic show of camaraderie. "Oh, Giza," he said with mock sympathy, "you know the Hogwarts rumor mill. I'll bet even the Hufflepuffs have heard about it by now."
Giza's eyes widened in disbelief. "What?" he exclaimed, looking over to Daphne for some reassurance, but she only gave him an apologetic nod, confirming Blaise's words.
"For fuck's sake," Giza sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The last thing he needed was the whole school buzzing about what happened with Nott.
"Well," Daphne chimed in, her tone more practical, "at least the older years might leave you alone now. If they think you've got that kind of power."
"Or," Blaise interjected with a smirk, "you've just put an even larger target on your back."
"Not helpful, Blaise," Giza retorted, giving him a pointed look.
"Wasn't trying to be," Blaise replied dryly, and Daphne chuckled softly, clearly amused by their exchange.
Despite the frustration gnawing at Giza, he couldn't help but smirk a little too. As much as Blaise's sarcasm could be biting, there was something oddly reassuring about it. At least, with them around, he wouldn't be navigating this mess alone.
As they pushed open the door to the Slytherin common room, the warmth of the crackling fire greeted them, but the welcoming atmosphere was quickly overshadowed by the sight of an irate Celeste. Her eyes immediately locked onto Daphne, and without hesitation, she stalked over, her face tight with concern.
"Where have you been?" Celeste demanded, grabbing Daphne's shoulder, her voice sharp with worry. "I've been worried sick! I asked some people, and they said they last saw you with one of Nott's cronies. Are you okay?"
Daphne blinked, clearly caught off guard by Celeste's intensity, but quickly nodded. "I'm fine, Celeste," she said, her tone calm as she placed a hand on Celeste's arm, trying to ease the tension. "Things got a little… complicated, but I'm alright now."
Celeste's eyes flickered with a mixture of relief and frustration, her grip on Daphne's shoulder loosening slightly. "You should've sent word or something. I didn't know what to think when I heard about you being with Nott."
Giza, standing a little to the side, exchanged a glance with Blaise, both of them quietly observing the exchange. Blaise gave a small shrug, as if to say, *Here we go again.*
Daphne smiled faintly at Celeste, her usual calm returning. "Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. But Giza and Blaise had my back. Everything's fine."
Celeste's eyes shifted toward Giza for a brief moment, her expression hard to read. She gave a quick nod, though it was clear she still wasn't entirely at ease. "Good," she muttered, though her tone was laced with lingering frustration. "Just… don't make a habit of disappearing like that."
Daphne squeezed her arm reassuringly, and Celeste finally let out a sigh, her tension visibly easing.
Letting Daphne and Celeste have their private conversation, Giza and Blaise quietly made their way up to the boys' dormitory. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows on the stone walls as they ascended the steps. The familiar quiet settled in, and for a moment, Giza thought Blaise was content to leave things unsaid.
But just as they reached the top of the stairs, Blaise turned to Giza, a curious gleam in his eyes. "So," he said casually, though his tone carried a hint of intrigue, "you gonna explain how you did that to the third year?"
Giza blinked, caught off guard by the question. He had been expecting it, sure, but now that it was out there, he found himself unsure of how to answer. He hadn't even fully processed it himself. The power, the force—it had come from somewhere deeper than just his wand, something he still didn't understand.
"I don't really know," Giza admitted, keeping his voice low. "I just… got angry. And then, before I knew it, I felt something, like a surge, and I just—acted."
Blaise raised an eyebrow, his expression thoughtful. "A surge, huh?" He didn't press further, but there was a glint of recognition in his eyes, as if he was mulling over something deeper.
"I didn't mean for it to be that strong," Giza continued, feeling the need to explain. "I've never done anything like that before. It just happened."
Blaise nodded slowly, considering this. "Well, whatever it was, it worked. But," he added, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "you might want to figure out how to control it before it happens again. Not everyone will take kindly to being blasted into a wall."
Giza sighed, knowing Blaise was right. "Yeah, I need to figure that out."
Celeste watched as Daphne reassured her, the tension between them slowly easing. But even with Daphne's calming words, something still gnawed at her. She had heard about Nott and his cronies earlier in the evening, and when she couldn't find Daphne, her mind had spiraled with worst-case scenarios. Now, standing there, she felt a mixture of relief and lingering frustration.
She let out a long sigh as Daphne placed a hand on her arm, offering comfort in that calm way she always did. *Typical Daphne, Celeste thought, always collected, never letting the chaos around her touch her in the same way it did Celeste.
As the boys headed upstairs, leaving them alone, Celeste's eyes flickered toward Giza briefly, though she wasn't quite sure what to make of him yet. He seemed to always be at the center of things, and that bothered her more than she wanted to admit. Every interaction she had with him since Charms class had left her unsettled, a feeling she couldn't quite place.
Once the boys were gone, she turned back to Daphne, the relief starting to turn into frustration again. "You could've at least told me where you were going," Celeste said, her tone sharper than she intended. She immediately softened, realizing her words sounded more accusatory than caring. "I was worried."
Daphne gave her a knowing look, always patient, even when Celeste felt like she was spinning. "I'm sorry, Celeste. I didn't think it would turn into anything. Nott was just being an ass, as usual. Giza and Blaise handled it."
Celeste felt her jaw tighten at the mention of Giza again, the boy who, despite being a Muggle-born, had managed to stand out more than she would have liked. "Of course they did," she muttered, her voice carrying a hint of bitterness she hadn't meant to let slip. She knew Daphne noticed but didn't press.
Celeste folded her arms, staring into the flickering fire in the common room. Giza's magic, his unexpected power—there was something about him that felt *off, and it gnawed at her, making her feel uneasy. She tried to brush it off, but the feeling lingered, like a seed of doubt growing in the back of her mind.
Everything about Giza had gone against what Celeste had been taught. Her father—well, she could understand him. Lucius Malfoy was a bigot, an egomaniac who wouldn't notice potential if it slapped him in his pompous face. But her mother... her mother was different. Celeste took everything her mother said as gospel. Her mother had always been her compass, the voice of reason in a family steeped in politics and outdated traditions. To see someone like Giza, a Muggle-born, shatter that view of the world irked her more than she wanted to admit.
And it irked her even more that he had saved Daphne—again.
She found herself thinking back to their first day in Charms class, and the hurtful things she had said. At the time, it had felt like a knee-jerk reaction, driven by frustration and embarrassment. But now, with every passing day, she felt the weight of her words settling deeper. She had regretted them almost instantly, especially after seeing the hurt flash across Giza's face. She had been prepared for him to curse her, to lash out with some sharp retort, something she could brush off. But he hadn't.
He hadn't cursed her or sworn at her. He hadn't spoken to her at all. And that was what really threw her off.
Instead of anger, he had given her silence. Complete and total silence. And somehow, that hurt more than any insult he could have thrown her way. Why did it bother her so much? Why did she care that he didn't react?
Celeste stared into the fire, her arms crossed, her mind swirling with questions. Giza wasn't like the others. He didn't fit into the neat little categories her parents had laid out for her. And every time she tried to make sense of him, she found herself more confused, more unsettled.
The fact that she cared at all—that his silence bugged her—was what frustrated her the most.
Daphne glanced over and saw Celeste lost in thought, her eyes fixed on the fire, arms crossed tightly. It was a familiar look—Celeste's brow furrowed ever so slightly, a sign that she was deeply troubled by something. Daphne had seen this expression enough times to know where her thoughts were likely drifting.
"Five galleons she's thinking about Giza," Daphne murmured quietly to herself, smirking as she watched her brunette friend wrestle with whatever inner conflict had gripped her.
Celeste had been off ever since that first day in Charms, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Every time Giza's name came up, every time he succeeded at something or found himself in the center of attention, Celeste's mood shifted. Daphne wasn't oblivious—she had noticed the way Celeste grew tense whenever Giza was mentioned, the way her eyes hardened, as if she were trying to push him out of her mind but couldn't.
Daphne found it amusing, in a way. Celeste, always so sure of herself, always in control, was clearly struggling with the contradiction that Giza presented. For someone raised in the pureblood world, where everything was supposed to fit into neat, predefined boxes, Giza didn't belong in any of them. And Celeste didn't know how to deal with that.
With a quiet chuckle, Daphne leaned back in her chair, her thoughts wandering back to the odd dynamic that had been unfolding over the past few weeks. She couldn't quite predict where it was heading, but one thing was clear: Celeste wasn't done thinking about Giza anytime soon.
