Giza made his way up toward the Owlery, eager to see Aurora. The path wound around the castle grounds, and the crisp morning air carried the faint scent of damp earth and pine. As he walked, he spotted a large figure in the distance—Hagrid, the groundskeeper, was scattering feed for the birds gathered around him. Giza had heard the name from other students, a half-giant with a heart as big as his stature, and a deep fondness for magical creatures.
The soft crunch of Giza's footsteps on the gravel caught Hagrid's attention. He turned, a warm smile beginning to spread across his bearded face—until his eyes flicked down to the snake emblem on Giza's robes.
Hagrid's smile faltered, and the warmth in his expression cooled in an instant. His large, round eyes moved from the emblem of Slytherin back up to Giza's face, his demeanor shifting noticeably. There wasn't open hostility, but the sudden change in his gaze was hard to miss, and it sent an uncomfortable chill through Giza.
"Morning," Giza offered, feeling the awkwardness settle between them.
Hagrid gave a brief nod, his voice gruffer than Giza expected. "Mornin'." He turned back to the birds, the friendly ease he'd initially shown slipping away.
Giza hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say next. He'd become used to the wary looks from some students, but this was different. Hagrid didn't seem like the kind to judge someone outright, yet there it was—an unspoken tension, brought on by nothing more than the house crest on his robes.
"Have you been feeding Aurora? If so, thanks," Giza offered, trying to break the sudden tension with a genuine smile.
Hagrid paused mid-throw, glancing back at Giza. For a moment, the gruffness softened slightly, though the guarded look remained. "Aurora, eh? Great grey owl, right?" Hagrid asked, his tone a little less stiff now, as if the mention of an animal stirred something more familiar in him.
Giza nodded. "Yeah, she's mine. I noticed she'd been well looked after when I hadn't been able to come by as often."
Hagrid scratched his beard, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Aye, I've been keepin' an eye on her. Fine bird, that one. But takin' care o' your own is part of bein' at Hogwarts, y'know."
"Of course," Giza replied quickly, feeling a bit of relief that the conversation was starting to ease, even if only slightly.
Hagrid looked at him for a long moment, then added quietly, "Jus' keep outta trouble, lad. Slytherin or not." His tone wasn't unkind, but there was something in the way he said it that left Giza wondering exactly what Hagrid thought of him. With that, the giant groundskeeper turned back to the birds, leaving Giza to make his way up to the Owlery.
Confused, Giza made his way up to the Owlery, his mind still turning over the brief encounter with Hagrid. As he reached Aurora's perch, the great grey owl blinked at him with those sharp, golden eyes, ever watchful and unbothered by the world's troubles.
"What was that about?" Giza muttered, more to himself than to her. "That was Hagrid, right? The groundskeeper?" He asked the question half-heartedly, knowing he wouldn't get a reply from the regal bird perched before him.
Aurora tilted her head, ruffling her feathers slightly as if to acknowledge his presence, but offered no answers. Giza sighed, reaching out to gently stroke her smooth, grey feathers.
It didn't make sense. He had heard nothing but good things about Hagrid—a man who was supposed to be kind to students, especially those who liked animals. And yet, all it had taken was a glance at the Slytherin emblem on his robes for the mood to shift.
"You don't care about all this house nonsense, do you?" Giza said quietly, watching as Aurora blinked at him once more, her calm presence oddly comforting in the face of his growing questions.
"Can't blame him either," Giza muttered under his breath, continuing to stroke Aurora's feathers. "I can't say the majority of my interactions with my housemates have been good either."
Aurora hooted softly in response, her golden eyes blinking slowly, as though in quiet agreement. Giza let out a small sigh, feeling a mixture of frustration and resignation. It wasn't like he hadn't noticed the divide between himself and some of the others in Slytherin. The glances, the offhanded comments, and the subtle distance they kept from him. Blaise and Daphne were the few exceptions, but even with them, there was a certain unspoken understanding—his place in the house was still tenuous.
Giza let his hand fall to his side as he leaned against the wall of the Owlery, watching Aurora as she ruffled her feathers again and settled back into place. "I guess it's just something I'll have to deal with."
Aurora gave another soft hoot, as if to say she'd be there regardless. After a while he gave her a last loving pet, he turned around and headed back down to the towering castle.
As Giza made his way back toward the castle, the whispers followed him like a shadow. Just as Blaise had predicted, it seemed the whole school had heard about his altercation with the third-year. And, of course, by the time the rumors had spread through the halls, the story had changed significantly.
Snatches of conversation reached his ears as he passed groups of students. One pair of Ravenclaws whispered about how Giza had supposedly sent three older Slytherins flying across the corridor with a single spell. A group of Gryffindors giggled about how he'd nearly blown a hole through the dungeon wall. Even a few Hufflepuffs had gotten in on the rumors, murmuring about "that Muggle-born kid from Slytherin" who had cast some "forbidden magic."
Giza would have found it funny if it wasn't happening to him.
He pulled his robes a little tighter around him, keeping his head down as he walked, trying to tune out the rumors and exaggerated stories. Part of him wanted to laugh at how ridiculous the tales had become, but the other part—the part that felt the weight of all those eyes on him—wasn't finding it so amusing.
The way people were talking, you'd think he had single-handedly taken down half the school. He sighed, wondering just how long it would take for the real story to fade into the background of all the noise.
Retiring to the quiet sanctuary of the library, Giza sighed in relief. Madam Pince's strict, no-nonsense attitude was one of the few things that kept other students from hovering nearby to gossip about him. He appreciated the library's peace, where the only sounds were the occasional turning of pages and the soft steps of the librarian patrolling the aisles.
But while he had escaped the whispers, Giza now faced a different problem—control. Both Dumbledore and Blaise had emphasized how crucial it was for him to get a handle on his power. It was the one thing that had weighed on him ever since the incident with Nott. He couldn't afford another outburst like that.
And so, here he was, tucked away in the far corner of the library, pouring over books in the hope of finding something—anything—about how to control power like his. So far, it was proving to be a fruitless search. Book after book seemed to offer advice on increasing magical power, refining spellwork, or focusing energy. But there was nothing about what to do when you had *too much* power to control in the first place.
He flipped through another dusty tome and frowned. "Great," he muttered to himself. "Turns out too much power isn't a problem many people 'suffer' from." He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples in frustration. It was beginning to feel like no one had written a single word about this issue.
It made him wonder if anyone at Hogwarts had ever experienced something like this—raw, uncontrollable power just waiting to explode. The thought made him uneasy. If no one else had gone through this, how could he figure it out on his own?
As Giza's frustration built, so did his impatience. He was on the verge of slamming the book closed when he heard a soft voice clear behind him. Spinning around, his anger died in his throat as he took in the sight of Celeste Malfoy, standing there with her arms crossed and one regal eyebrow raised in question.
"What do you want?" Giza snapped, his voice still tinged with the edge of irritation. "As you can see, I'm quite busy," he added, gesturing to the scattered books and notes around him, most of which had been useless.
Celeste remained silent for a moment, her cool blue eyes studying him carefully. Then, finally, she spoke, her tone even but quieter than he expected. "I want to apologize."
Giza blinked, his mind scrambling to process what he had just heard. Out of all the things she could've said, an apology was the last thing he had anticipated. He opened his mouth to respond but found that no words came out. Instead, he stared at her, unsure how to feel about the sudden shift in her demeanor.
Celeste stood there, her posture still as poised as ever, but something about the way she was holding herself seemed more vulnerable than usual. It wasn't easy for her—he could tell just by the look on her face. But she had come here, despite everything, to offer him something he hadn't expected.
"Can I sit?" Celeste asked, her voice softer now, though her usual confidence remained intact.
Giza, still a bit stunned by her sudden apology, nodded mutely toward the chair across from him. She moved gracefully, taking the seat with an elegance that seemed second nature to her. For a moment, there was an awkward silence between them, the tension from past interactions still lingering in the air.
Celeste folded her hands in her lap, glancing down briefly before meeting his eyes again. "I know I haven't exactly been kind to you," she began, her voice carefully measured. "What I said in Charms class... I regret it. You didn't deserve that."
Giza stayed quiet, watching her carefully. He could tell that this wasn't easy for her, and he wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. Celeste Malfoy, the girl who carried herself with the cool confidence of a pureblood legacy, was sitting in front of him, apologizing.
"I've been... dealing with a lot of things, and I took my frustration out on you," she continued, her gaze unwavering now. "I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry."
The sincerity in her voice caught Giza off guard.
Giza studied her for a long moment, the silence between them heavy. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but firm. "I don't forgive you."
Celeste blinked, her mouth opening slightly as if to respond, but Giza cut her off before she could speak.
"You can't just come here and say you're sorry," he continued, his tone sharper now. "It doesn't mean anything. Actions speak louder than words, and for the last month, you've done nothing but ignore me." His eyes searched hers, his frustration clear. "Tell me, are you really sorry? Or are you just feeling guilty because I helped Daphne?"
Celeste's expression faltered for the first time, her usual composed demeanor cracking slightly. Her hands tightened in her lap, and she averted her gaze for a moment, clearly taken aback by the force of his words. She hadn't expected this.
"I…" she started, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. She looked back at Giza, her voice quieter now, almost uncertain. "It's not just because of Daphne. I—I know I've been unfair to you. And I do feel guilty, but not because you helped her. I was wrong, and I let my pride get in the way."
Giza watched her, his expression hard, not willing to let her off the hook so easily. Celeste had hurt him, and her sudden change of heart wasn't enough to erase what had happened.
"I just… I don't expect you to forgive me right away," she admitted, her voice steadying. "But I'm trying." She added quietly.
Giza said nothing, his gaze still intense as he tried to read the sincerity in her words. For the first time, it seemed like Celeste was being genuine, stripped of the usual Malfoy arrogance. But trust wasn't something that could be rebuilt with just a few words.
"Fine…" Giza said after a moment, still watching her closely. "You can start by helping me with this." He gestured to the scattered books on the table, their spines cracked and worn from hours of searching through them.
Celeste blinked in surprise, her eyes flicking down to the mess of notes and open tomes. "What is it you're working on?" she asked cautiously, her curiosity now mingling with the lingering tension between them.
"Control," Giza replied, his tone flat. "I'm trying to figure out how to manage my magic. Dumbledore made it clear I need to get a handle on it, but there's nothing in these books that helps. It's like no one else has ever had this problem."
Celeste frowned, glancing at the titles of the books. "Too much power…" she murmured, almost to herself. "That's not something people usually write about."
"No kidding," Giza said dryly, leaning back in his chair, his frustration still bubbling under the surface.
Celeste, clearly still feeling the weight of her earlier words, nodded. After a moment, she reached for one of the books, flipping it open to a random page. "Alright," she said, her voice a little steadier now. "Let's see what we can find."
"First," Celeste said, her tone shifting to something more focused as she closed the book she'd picked up and met Giza's gaze, "tell me about this power. What triggered it?"
Giza hesitated, his mind flickering back to that moment with Nott. The surge of anger, the raw energy that had erupted from him without warning. He had barely understood it himself, and now he was being asked to explain it.
"I'm not sure," Giza began slowly, running a hand through his hair as he tried to put the experience into words. "It's like... it's tied to my emotions. That day, Nott was threatening Daphne, and I just felt this rage build up. Before I knew it, my magic... it exploded out of me. I didn't even have time to think. It was like the power had a mind of its own."
Celeste listened carefully, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "And this isn't something you can control?" she asked.
"No," Giza said, shaking his head. "At least, not yet. That's what I'm trying to figure out." He glanced down at the books in front of him, frustration creeping back into his voice. "I've been trying to find something, anything, about controlling magic that's this... unpredictable. But everything I've found is about focusing spells or strengthening magic, not reigning it in when it's too much."
Celeste nodded thoughtfully, her expression more serious now. "It sounds like it's connected to your emotions, like accidental magic, but stronger. If that's the case, maybe control comes from managing what triggers it."
Giza frowned. "So what, I'm supposed to just stop getting angry?"
"Not exactly," Celeste replied, her eyes flicking to the books again. "But maybe it's about learning to direct that emotion. If it's tied to your anger, maybe you need to figure out how to channel it without letting it overwhelm you."
Giza considered her words, his mind turning over the idea. It wasn't much, but it made more sense than anything he'd come up with so far.
"Occlumency didn't work?" Celeste asked absently, flipping through one of the books.
"What's that?" Giza asked, his interest piqued.
Celeste closed her book and gave him that trademark raised eyebrow. "Occlumency," she said, "is the art of shielding your mind from Legilimency—mind reading. But it's also useful for shielding your emotions and freeing your mind from distractions."
"Wait, hold on," Giza interrupted, his eyes widening. "People can *read* minds?"
Celeste nodded casually, as though it were a well-known fact. "Yeah, plenty of accomplished wizards are adept at it—Dumbledore, Snape..."
"Snape can read my mind?" Giza said quietly, his voice filled with sudden unease.
Celeste chuckled softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, but I doubt he'd use it on students. It's highly illegal, and most pureblood children learn a little Occlumency, so they can detect intrusions. It's part of our upbringing."
Giza processed that for a moment, the idea of someone like Snape being able to slip into his mind making him more than a little uncomfortable. "So, do you know Occlumency?" he asked, curiosity mingling with caution. "Can you teach me?"
Celeste's expression softened slightly, her usual aloofness fading for just a moment. "I know the basics," she admitted. "It's something most of us are taught early on, but I'm not a master by any means." She paused, considering. "But... I could try. It's not easy, especially if your emotions are intense, but it might help you learn control over what triggers your magic."
Giza nodded slowly, intrigued by the possibility. "I'd appreciate that," he said quietly. "If it could help... I'm willing to try."
Celeste looked at Giza, her expression shifting slightly, as if she was weighing her words carefully. After a brief pause, she spoke again, her voice quieter but sincere. "If I help you with your Occlumency… will you forgive me?"
Giza studied her for a moment, the weight of her question hanging between them. He could see the vulnerability in her eyes, something she was clearly not used to showing. She was offering more than just help—she was trying to make amends, in her own way.
He thought back to everything that had happened between them—the hurtful words, the silence, the tension. Forgiveness wasn't something that could come easily, but Celeste was putting herself out there. She was trying.
"I don't know," Giza said honestly, his tone soft but firm. "Forgiveness doesn't come with a deal attached to it. It's not about trading one thing for another."
Celeste's eyes flickered, and for a moment, Giza thought she might take back her offer. But then he added, "But... if you help me, it'll be a start. Maybe over time, things will be different."
She gave him a small nod, understanding but not pushing. It wasn't a full resolution, but it was something. A beginning, perhaps.
"Alright," she said, her voice steadying. "Its a deal"
