The Boy Who Lived and The Cursed Child: Philosopher's Stone
Delphi POV
Hogwarts (Scotland)
Gryffindor
Common Room
Delphi was already dressed in her uniform, her long red robe neatly pressed as she stood beside her bed. She gently opened a small enchanted box, cold mist spilling out from inside. Next to it sat a tiny barrel labeled with elegant script: Aged Red Wizarding Wine.
She pulled out a glass jar, carefully poured in the wine, and added six plump, well-fed mice. The moment the scent filled the air, Nyx stirred from under the blankets.
Hermione, brushing her hair nearby, blinked in surprise. "Wait… is that alcohol?"
"Yes," Delphi answered calmly. "Nyx only eats mice that have been dipped in wine."
"She doesn't like anything else," she added with a small shrug. "Once I tried changing her diet… she stopped eating for five days."
As she said this, she extended her arm and gently tapped her sleeve. Nyx slithered up smoothly, wrapping herself snugly around Delphi's left arm.
"Oh… your snake friend definitely has a unique diet," Hermione said, watching with fascination.
"Do you have a pet?" Delphi asked, glancing over.
"Not yet," Hermione replied. "But I'm planning to get a cat next year."
They walked together toward the common room exit when Delphi slowed. She heard them.
Whispers. Again.
"We know Bellatrix never married, so… who's the father?" a Gryffindor boy muttered.
I thought she was married to Rodolphus Lestrange," one girl muttered, her voice laced with curiosity and judgment.
"I don't know," another replied. "There's a rumor she paid someone to kill him—so all his money and property would go to her."
The first girl scoffed. "Wouldn't be surprising. But honestly… who even knows who Delphi's real father is?"
They leaned in closer, voices lowering but no less pointed.
"I bet it's You-Know-Who," a girl replied, not even trying to whisper.
"She speaks Parseltongue. It's obvious," another added.
"She's going to snap one day and torture us—just like her mother did," someone said from behind.
"Why wasn't she sent to Azkaban instead? She's got those creepy green eyes… it's like she's already planning something," a boy sneered.
"She's just waiting to find a weak student to hex—"
"Harry Potter is here. He already killed her father. He can deal with her too."
Delphi stood frozen, her fingers slightly trembling as her chest tightened.
Then, Hermione grabbed her hand firmly.
Before they walked out, Hermione turned and glared at the group.
"You give Gryffindor a bad name," she said coldly. "Maybe you should move to Slytherin."
Without another word, she led Delphi out of the common room and down toward the Grand Hall.
Grand Hall
As they both sat down at the Gryffindor table, Delphi began quietly filling her plate.
"Delphi… I think it's better if you ignore them," Hermione said gently, glancing toward the students still whispering nearby.
"Yeah… I mean, I already expected them to treat me badly because of my mother—Bellatrix," Delphi replied, her voice calm but resigned.
Hermione hesitated for a moment before asking softly, "So… is it true? Is You-Know-Who your father?"
Delphi paused for a second, then shook her head. "I don't know. She never told me."
She picked up a piece of toast and some eggs from the platter in front of her, settling into a quiet rhythm. Just then, she noticed Neville approaching with a tray—only for him to catch sight of her, go pale, drop his food, and dart away down the table.
"That was… strange," Hermione murmured.
"Yeah," Delphi said quietly, eyes following him for a moment before she returned to her food.
Ten Minutes Later
After finishing her breakfast, Delphi picked up her bag and walked carefully, keeping a small glass jar tucked under her arm. Inside, six fat mice floated gently in wine, their bodies plump and well-soaked.
As she reached the hallway, she tapped her sleeve, and Nyx slithered out lazily. The black snake coiled around her arm, tongue flicking toward the scent as Delphi unscrewed the jar.
"Breakfast time," she whispered.
Nyx began eating, one mouse at a time, as they continued down the corridor—Delphi calm, composed, but already bracing herself for the stares that would follow.
Hermione looked over at her, curiosity in her eyes. "So… how did you learn Parseltongue?"
Delphi paused for a moment before answering. "Well… when I was about a year old, my mother took me to the Gaunt family's old residence."
Hermione's eyes widened. "The Gaunt residence? As in—you-know-who's bloodline?"
Delphi nodded. "She stole everything—books, artifacts, scrolls—anything magical. She moved it all into her own vault."
Hermione listened intently as Delphi continued.
"One of the things she took was a magical portrait. It wasn't just decorative—it was sentient. A preserved consciousness. His name was Ominis Gaunt."
"Ominis Gaunt?" Hermione repeated, intrigued.
"He was one of my ancestors," Delphi said. "And he was the one who taught me Parseltongue. It took a while to get the hang of it, but he was patient. After my mother was sent to Azkaban, he was… like a father to me. He kept teaching me magic, history, everything."
Hermione blinked. "Wow. I've always been curious about Parseltongue… It's such a rare ability—and it always seems tied to dark history."
"Yes," Delphi agreed. "He told me the same thing. He hated how the Gaunt name had been corrupted over time."
Delphi offered a faint smile. "Maybe one day I'll introduce you to him."
Hermione smiled back, about to reply—when she suddenly gasped and shot to her feet.
"We need to go! We'll be late for Professor McGonagall's class!"
Without waiting, she grabbed Delphi's hand, and the two of them hurried through the corridors, their robes swishing as they ran toward Transfiguration.
Harry POV
Harry and Ron sprinted down the corridor, their robes flapping behind them as they dodged students and floating candles.
"I can't believe we're already late on our first day," Harry panted.
"I don't usually wake up this early," Ron grumbled.
"Me neither… especially after sleeping in a soft, comfortable bed," Harry added. "Back home, my bed felt like a prison cot."
They skidded to a stop outside the Transfiguration classroom, catching their breath. Harry peeked inside.
"There's no one here… just a cat," he whispered.
Ron exhaled in relief. "Good—she's not here yet."
"Yeah, she'd be furious if she saw us now," Harry said, stepping forward.
Suddenly, the tabby cat perched on the desk leapt to the floor—right in front of them.
Before they could react, the cat shimmered and twisted in mid-air, transforming in an instant into the stern figure of Professor McGonagall.
Both boys froze in place, eyes wide.
"I do hope you're not in the habit of treating education as a race," she said coolly, her lips pressed into a firm line.
Ron's face turned red. "Sorry, Professor…"
Harry winced. "Won't happen again."
She was looking at him. "just for now sit down" McGonagall says when they quickly both sat down when they were near Hermione and Delphi.
He saw her speaking to her snake. "Delphi I'm going to move near you neck" Nyx says.
"Okay just make sure don't distract me" Delphi says.
"did you mother taught you that when you were smaller " Nyx says.
"yes but she was just showing me and I wasn't allowed to used magic so this is my first time " Delphi says.
"You know the only practice I have home it was potion" Delphi says.
"so stay quiet or go to sleep" Delphi says as Nyx nodded at her.
He was looking at her. "so the Parseltongue" Harry thought as he remember hearing from one of the Gryffindor talking about that.
"the first lesson it would be Transfigura acuta" McGonagall says when she tap it with her want to the piece of wood and turned into a silver needle.
She started to walk and give everyone a piece of wood. "you're going to focus on trying to turn into a simple needle" McGonagall says.
He was looking at the piece of wood "Transfigura acuta" Harry says when nothing happens when McGonagall walked toward him.
"Harry focus a bit more and imagine turning the piece of wood into needle" McGonagall says as he nodded at her as she continued to help the other students.
"This is hard " Ron says as he was happy a hard time too
Harry continued to observe her closely as Delphi inhaled softly, steadying her hand. She narrowed her eyes at the block of wood, recalling her mother's wand movements—sharp, fluid, controlled.
"Transfigura Acuta," Delphi whispered.
The tip of her wand sparkled, and a soft shimmer rippled over the wood. Slowly, the block began to shift—its edges smoothing, its form thinning, compressing—until it took the shape of a slender silver needle.
It wasn't perfect. The needle was a little warped and slightly crooked… but unmistakably a needle.
Hermione gasped from beside her. "You did it!"
Delphi blinked, then gave a small nod, trying to remain composed. "It still needs refinement."
Ron groaned from the other side. "How are you already ahead of us? I haven't even made a dent."
Delphi turned to them and offered a quiet smile. "If you want, I can help you."
She raised her hand.
"Professor McGonagall, may I help Harry and Ron?" she asked.
McGonagall glanced up from across the room and nodded. "Yes, but only if they're willing to be helped."
"I'll take anything at this point," Ron muttered.
Delphi stood and walked over to their table, stopping between them.
"My mother taught me this spell when I was little. She didn't let me cast it, but I watched her a lot," she explained.
"Close your eyes and imagine the needle—its shape, its shine. Let the image form clearly in your mind," she said, her voice calm and instructional.
"Now… focus on the feeling of magic flowing from you, through your wand."
Harry nodded, exhaled slowly, and raised his wand again.
"Transfigura Acuta." Harry said.
A faint shimmer sparked—and the block twisted into a crooked but recognizable needle. Not perfect, but real.
Harry's eyes widened. "I did it…"
Delphi gave a soft nod. "Told you. It just takes focus."
Ron raised his wand and gave it a try.
"Transfigura Acuta," he said.
The block of wood shimmered briefly before transforming—partially—into a misshapen, splintered needle. It looked more like a snapped twig than anything usable.
Delphi observed carefully, then tilted her head toward his wand.
"Ron… was your wand previously owned by someone else?" she asked gently.
"Yeah," Ron admitted. "It belonged to my older brother, Charlie. He gave it to me when he got a new one."
Delphi nodded slowly. "That might explain it. I think your wand is rejecting you."
Ron frowned. "My parents can't afford a new one…"
Delphi turned to McGonagall. "Professor, would Ollivander be able to come here to deliver a new wand for a student in need?"
McGonagall looked surprised but replied, "Yes. Under special circumstances, he's done so before."
Without hesitation, Delphi looked back at Ron. "Then I'll pay for a new wand for you."
Ron's eyes widened. "You don't need to do that—really."
"It's okay," Delphi said softly, offering a reassuring smile. "You need a wand that chooses you."
Ron was stunned. "Thank you…"
"You're welcome," she replied, then quietly returned to her seat beside Hermione.
Meanwhile, Harry was focused on improving his needle when whispers started rising behind him.
"Wow… showing off that Black family fortune…" a Ravenclaw girl muttered.
"Probably stolen from half the wizarding world—and Muggles too. Her mother was a monster," another sneered.
Harry heard it all—but kept his eyes on his wand, lips tightening slightly as he focused.
One hour and thirty minutes later
After circling the classroom and observing the students' progress, Professor McGonagall returned to the front of the room. She clapped her hands once, firmly.
"That will be all for today."
The students looked up from their partially transformed needles, wands still in hand.
"I'm pleased with the effort many of you have shown. Transfiguration is not an easy subject—it requires discipline, focus, and patience. Some of you have shown potential," she said, her eyes briefly flicking toward Delphi, Hermione, and Harry.
She folded her hands in front of her. "Do not be discouraged if you didn't succeed today. Mastery takes time. What matters most is progress."
There was a murmur of understanding around the room.
"I expect each of you to review Chapter One and practice the wand movement and incantation properly. And remember—no Transfiguration outside of class without supervision."
McGonagall's eyes narrowed slightly, making sure her warning stuck.
She gave one final nod. "You are dismissed."
Chairs scraped against the floor as students stood. Delphi gathered her things silently. Hermione smiled at her, and Ron gave her a grateful nod. Harry lingered for a moment, glancing at her as if wanting to say something—but deciding to hold it for later.
As the students walked outside into the bright morning light, Harry followed his classmates toward the greenhouses, where their next class—Herbology—was held. Students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were also gathering near the doors, chatting as they waited.
The greenhouse was warm and humid inside, filled with vibrant greenery and the earthy scent of damp soil. Shelves lined the walls, each holding rows of magical plants—some glowing faintly, others twitching as students walked past.
Harry looked around, curious about the strange foliage, when a cheerful but firm voice called out.
"Hello, everyone!" said Professor Sprout, smiling as she stepped in front of a table filled with potted herbs. "Since this is your first official Herbology lesson, we're going to begin with a very safe and useful plant."
She gestured to a broad-leafed, slightly glowing herb in front of her.
"Can anyone tell me what plant this is—and what type of potion it's mainly used in?"
Neville eagerly raised his hand. "I think it's Dittany!"
"Correct," Professor Sprout beamed. "And what is it mainly used for?"
"It's used as a medicine… for healing wounds," Neville replied.
"Exactly! Twenty points to Gryffindor," Professor Sprout said warmly.
"Now, everyone—please make sure you're wearing your gloves," she instructed. "While Dittany is safe, some of the other plants around it may cause mild irritation."
She handed out small sets of dragon-hide gloves to each student.
"For today, you'll be observing the Dittany plant up close. I want you to study its color, texture, and magical aura. Focus only on this section of the greenhouse."
The students began moving toward the plants. Some leaned in close to examine the shimmering leaves, others gently touched the stems with gloved hands.
Delphi stood near Hermione, carefully studying the root structure while jotting observations down in a small leather-bound notebook.
Harry knelt beside a pot, squinting as he noted the fine silver hairs lining the edge of a leaf.
"Faint glow… silver edge… thick stalk," he muttered as he wrote.
One Hour and Thirty Minutes Later
The Herbology lesson was winding down. Students were packing up their notes and removing their gloves as Professor Sprout addressed the class one last time.
"On Wednesday, we'll go a bit deeper into today's lesson," she said cheerfully, clapping her hands together. "So come prepared!"
She gave a warm smile to the group. "For now, class is dismissed. Enjoy your lunch break!"
The students began filing out of the greenhouse, the chatter picking up again as they stepped into the fresh air. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Delphi walked together, following the crowd heading toward the Great Hall
Harry walked into the Great Hall and made his way to the Gryffindor table. He slid into the seat beside Ron, across from Delphi and Hermione. Delphi was already feeding Nyx, carefully dipping several plump mice into a small jar of aged wine before offering them to the elegant black snake curled around her arm.
Harry glanced at her curiously, and that's when he heard it—her quiet conversation with Nyx.
"Delphi, when is class going to be over?" Nyx asked in Parseltongue.
"Two more classes," Delphi replied softly.
"If you want, I can go back to your bed and sleep until then."
"It's okay. You can stay with me," Delphi answered.
Suddenly, Nyx turned her glowing yellow eyes toward Harry.
"Glasses boy, do you understand us? Or are you just staring because you have a crush on my owner?"
Harry nearly choked on his pumpkin juice, his face turning bright red.
Delphi blinked and looked at him, surprised. "Wait… you understood that?"
Harry coughed awkwardly. "Y-Yeah… I can understand Parseltongue. But I can't speak it."
Delphi tilted her head, intrigued. "If you want, I could teach you. It's difficult, but not impossible."
"You can actually teach it?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised. "I heard it's a really rare skill."
"It is," Delphi said. "But I was taught by a magical portrait of Ominis Gaunt. He was patient… and thorough. I think I could pass it on."
Nyx narrowed her eyes at Harry.
"Are you related to the Gaunt family?"
"No," Harry replied honestly.
"Hmm… It's extremely rare for someone outside the Gaunt bloodline to inherit Parseltongue. Maybe you're descended from another branch connected to Salazar Slytherin?"
"I don't think so," Harry said, shaking his head.
"Strange… maybe another family beyond Slytherin's direct line had the same gift," Nyx mused before biting into her wine-soaked mouse.
Delphi turned to Ron. "Do you have other siblings?"
"Yeah," Ron said through a mouthful of bread. "My older twin brothers—Fred and George. My younger sister, Ginny, she'll be starting next year."
Delphi gave a small smile. "That's nice. My only living relatives are the Malfoy family… since my mother and uncle are in Azkaban."
Ron grimaced. "Sorry… I feel bad that the Malfoys are your only family."
Delphi gave a small, awkward smile. "They're not that bad… once you get past the attitude."
Harry looked at the schedule on the table. "The last two classes today are Potions and Charms," he said.
"Let's do our best," he added with a grin.
Delphi looked at him thoughtfully. "After class, if you want, we can meet in the library. I'll start teaching you Parseltongue."
Harry nodded. "Yeah… I'd like that."
They all returned to their food.
One hour later
Delphi POV
As Delphi walked through the corridor toward her next class, she paused. She had the distinct feeling someone was following her. She stopped and turned—only to see a blonde girl with silvery-gray eyes approaching her.
The girl smiled In a dreamy, unreadable way.
"Are you Delphi Black Gaunt?" she asked.
"Yes," Delphi replied cautiously.
"My name is Luna Lovegood. I'm in Ravenclaw."
Delphi studied her for a moment. There was something… different about her. Not judgmental. Just curious.
"You're kind of interesting," Luna continued. "And mysterious."
"Oh… thanks. I think," Delphi said with a small, awkward smile.
"I've heard a lot about you," Luna added casually. "In Ravenclaw, people talk. But don't worry—I'm not here to judge you or say anything bad."
Delphi relaxed slightly.
"I'm just curious," Luna went on. "Since you can speak Parseltongue, that means you must be descended from Salazar Slytherin, right?"
"Yes… I think so. My mother never told me anything about my father," Delphi admitted quietly. "The only father figure I ever had was a magical portrait of Ominis Gaunt. He taught me Parseltongue."
Luna's eyes lit up. "Fascinating."
Delphi glanced down the hall. "We should hurry. If we're late, Professor Snape will definitely say something."
Luna nodded. The two of them walked together into the dungeon corridor, where students from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin were already gathering outside the doors of Potions class.
Delphi walked into the dimly lit dungeon and took a seat between Luna and Hermione, both of whom already had their Potions textbooks open on the desk in front of them.
Hermione glanced at her. "Delphi, did you forget your Potions book?"
"I didn't buy one," Delphi replied calmly. "I'm using my mother's book."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a thick, worn book bound in deep black dragon leather. The cover shimmered slightly under the torchlight.
Luna leaned closer, her silvery eyes widening. "Wow… is that dragon skin?"
She gently touched the cover, marveling at the texture. "It's real. Do you know how expensive it is to get genuine dragon leather?"
Delphi nodded. "Yes. My mother wrote several books for me—this one is just for Potions. She also left ones for Alchemy and a few other subjects… to help me master them."
Hermione adjusted her glasses, examining the leather. "That's Hebridean Black, isn't it?"
"Yes," Delphi confirmed.
"Did she really spend that much just to bind her books?" Hermione asked, half in awe, half in disbelief.
"I think so," Delphi said softly. "She wanted them to last."
Before any of them could say more, the classroom door creaked open. The temperature seemed to drop as Professor Snape swept into the room, his dark robes billowing behind him.
The chatter died instantly.
"Today were going to make our first potion I want to test you skill in you potion make" Snape says.
"the Boil-Cure Potion" Snape says
"Im going to grade you the way to follow instruction, the way you mix the ingredients and the quality of the potion " Snape says
Delphi grabbed the ingredients when she saw the everyone starts to follow the instructions as she opened her mother book as she find the paper and started.
She grabbed eight Snake fangs as she crush them dry
She grabbed the Dried nettles burned them slightly over the flame as she dropped in.
Hermione was looking at her. "are you sure is correct " Hermione ask her.
"Yes I remember my mother teaching me this when I was very small" Delphi replied
She didn't wait for the boiling as she's threw the Porcupine quill as the boiling started she stirred three times clockwise, then once counterclockwise
Luna was looking at her. "it looks a bit different " Luna says.
He stopped at Hermione Granger's cauldron, where steam was pouring out violently.
"Miss Granger…" he said with mock admiration, "for someone who's read the entire curriculum, you certainly lack the ability to apply it. Next time, try measuring your ingredients before you dump them in like soup."
Hermione flushed scarlet.
He turned next to Ron Weasley, who had somehow managed to melt the bottom of his cauldron. "Tell me, Weasley, do you intend to cure boils or cause them? That's porcupine quills before the fangs. Did you even read the instructions or just ask the rat in your pocket for advice?"
Luna Lovegood was humming to herself, sprinkling crushed nettle as if feeding a niffler.
Snape narrowed his eyes. "Miss Lovegood… this is not a greenhouse, nor an art project. Stop adding petals unless you want to summon a rash spirit."
Luna blinked. "I thought it might help calm the potion's aura, sir."
"Perhaps you'd prefer Divination," he said coldly. "Or a padded room."
He moved toward Harry Potter, whose potion was a strange murky color.
"Famous Harry Potter," Snape drawled. "And yet no fame in sight for this disaster. Tell me, did your mother save you from Voldemort just so you could fail to stir a cauldron?"
Harry clenched his jaw, but said nothing.
Draco Malfoy, with his usual arrogance, had added powdered silverleaf — not part of the recipe at all.
"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. Did your father tell you silver makes everything better?" Snape said, with a tone just slightly more amused than venomous. "Well, perhaps that's true in jewelry. But in potions, it just makes you look like a fool."
Astoria Greengrass sat beside her sister, quietly working. Her potion was pale and watery.
"Miss Greengrass the younger," Snape said. "How polite. Quiet. Unassuming. And thoroughly ineffective. Did you think your sister would brew it for you by proximity?"
Astoria wilted slightly.
Daphne Greengrass, proud and upright, glared at her cauldron.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Confident, aren't we, Miss Greengrass? Unfortunately, your potion is separating — see that oily layer? That's what happens when you stir too quickly. You're not whipping eggs."
He passed by Aurelia Peverell, who was tracing her stirring pattern with precise circles.
"Miss Peverell," he said softly, "your ancestry may be noble, but potion-making doesn't care for lineage. Your mixture is sluggish. Either your flame is too low or your ambition is." Snape said.
Aurelia narrowed her eyes but said nothing.
Snape walked past Delphi's cauldron—and paused.
Her potion was not the pale green color described on the board. It was a deeper shade, shimmering faintly.
Snape's eyes narrowed.
"Miss Black Gaunt," he said, voice low, "why isn't your potion the same as the rest?"
Delphi met his eyes calmly. "Because I didn't follow the original instructions"
Murmurs echoed in the room.
Snape's lips twitched — not into a smile, but something close to surprise. "You altered the instructions."
"I followed mom method," she said, not blinking.
Snape stared at her… then took a ladle of the mixture, tested it with a simple analysis charm, and frowned.
It was strong. Too strong for a first-year.
His tone turned even colder. "Detention, this Saturday."
Gasps filled the room — even Hermione looked confused.
"But why?" Delphi asked, confused yet unshaken.
"You will explain, in detail, the source of your alterations. In writing. And bring your notebook."
"If any of you believe you can rewrite centuries of proven instruction like Miss Black be prepared to face the consequences." Snape says as he started to test the quality of the potion .
One Hour and Thirty Minutes Later
Professor Snape moved silently between them, a long roll of parchment floating at his side. A quill hovered beside it, writing in sharp, decisive strokes as he dictated quietly under his breath.
He stopped at Hermione's cauldron, narrowing his eyes at the thick, brown potion still steaming unevenly.
"Granger – C minus. Rushed, unstable, improperly measured."
Hermione bit her lip and scribbled the feedback into her notes.
Next was Ron's scorched cauldron.
"Weasley – D. Cauldron damage, incorrect order of ingredients, fumes slightly acidic."
Ron groaned and muttered, "Knew it."
At Luna Lovegood's desk, her potion still sparkled faintly pink.
"Lovegood – D plus. Too many nonessential additives. Results unpredictable."
Luna blinked, unconcerned. "That's fair."
At Harry's station, Snape studied the slightly improved potion.
"Potter – C. Slightly stabilized. Lacks precision, but potential noted."
Harry gave a short nod, avoiding Snape's eyes.
Then Snape reached Draco Malfoy's desk. His potion glimmered faintly from the added silverleaf.
Snape's expression tightened. "Malfoy – C minus. Decorative, inaccurate. Unnecessary modifications indicate overconfidence."
Draco's smug look faltered.
He moved to Astoria Greengrass, whose potion was pale and watery. A quick diagnostic charm confirmed minimal magical infusion.
"Greengrass the Younger – D. Weak concentration. Passive stirring technique. Insufficient effort."
Astoria lowered her gaze, cheeks burning.
Beside her, Daphne Greengrass sat stiffly. Her potion had separated, an oily film gliding across the top.
"Greengrass the Elder – C. Excessive stirring speed. Resulting instability and oil separation."
Daphne frowned but didn't object.
At Aurelia Peverell's station, her potion was clear, but sluggish. The diagnostic charm glowed faintly.
"Peverell – C plus. Technically correct, but lacking magical depth. Monitor flame control."
Aurelia gave a terse nod, jaw tight.
Finally, he returned to Delphi's workstation.
Her potion shimmered with quiet power—deep emerald, perfectly infused, stable, and clearly beyond first-year standards.
Snape paused, staring at it for a long moment before turning to the floating parchment.
The quill scratched across the surface:
"Black Gaunt, Delphi – A. Unapproved variation. Excessively advanced. Detention assigned. Full method requested."
He gave no further comment.
Then, with a curt wave of his hand, he addressed the room:
"Clean your workstations. You are dismissed."
Chairs scraped. Cauldrons clattered. Students hurried to pack up, still whispering behind cupped hands as they filed out of the dungeon.
Delphi said nothing. She simply closed her mother's book and walked out
Five Minutes Later
Delphi walked through the corridor, her eyes scanning the pages of her mother's personal potion journal. The book was heavy in her hands, the dragon-leather cover worn smooth at the edges. She was so absorbed in her reading, she didn't notice someone coming around the corner.
Suddenly—bam.
Someone crashed right into her.
She stumbled backward and fell to the floor, the book slipping from her hands and landing with a heavy thud. Her heart jumped as she blinked up, dazed.
Standing over her was Neville Longbottom, pale-faced and trembling.
"I—I'm sorry!!" he stammered, panic written across his face.
Before she could say anything, Neville turned and bolted down the hallway, disappearing into the crowd.
Delphi sat still for a moment, then slowly stood and brushed herself off. She picked up the book, cradling it carefully.
"He didn't even have to apologize. It was my fault. I wasn't looking…" she thought.
But whispers had already started.
"Do you think she's going to torture him?" a Hufflepuff boy muttered nearby.
"Most likely probably waits until he's asleep," a Hufflepuff girl whispered back.
"Did you see how scared he was? She probably cursed him just by looking at him." a Ravenclaw boy.
"He barely touched her and ran like he saw a banshee. That tells you everything." a Hufflepuff girl.
"She's Bellatrix's daughter… of course she'll snap eventually." a Slytherin girl, snickering behind her hand.
"Someone like her shouldn't be in Gryffindor. She should be locked up in Azkaban with the rest of her family." a Ravenclaw prefect muttered under his breath.
"Do you think she tortures animals for fun?" a third-year whispered, wide-eyed.
"She talks to snakes, right? Bet she has one in her dorm that strangles students in their sleep." Gryffindor boy said with forced bravado, though he wouldn't meet her eyes.
Delphi's fingers clenched tighter around the book. Her eyes remained calm, but inside, her thoughts burned.
"Again… treating me like a monster."
Without a word, she turned and walked toward Charms class.
Harry POV
Harry sat beside Neville, who looked pale and uneasy. His quill rested untouched, and his hands trembled slightly.
Harry leaned over, voice low.
"Neville… why did you run away from Delphi earlier?"
Neville hesitated, his eyes fixed on the desk. His hand twitched again.
After a moment, he exhaled shakily. "Okay… I'll tell you."
Flashback
August 1983
Longbottom Residence, England
The morning was peaceful.
Frank Longbottom stood at the stove, frying eggs. Alice poured juice into glasses. Their young son, Neville, was coloring at the kitchen table.
"Three years without any accidents," Frank said with a smile.
"I know," Alice replied. "But I wonder how long it'll last…"
They both fell quiet.
"I still think about her sometimes," Alice murmured. "Bellatrix Black."
"She's the last Death Eater we haven't caught," Frank said grimly.
"Dumbledore and the Aurors are still searching."
"I'd help," Frank said, lowering his voice. "But after James and Lily… I'd rather spend this peace with Neville."
Alice nodded. "I feel awful for Harry… losing his parents and being stuck with Lily's horrible sister."
"Mum, can we bake cookies later?" Neville asked.
Alice smiled. "Of course, sweetheart."
"Don't forget—we're visiting Gran tomorrow," Frank added. "Pack your things."
After breakfast, the family gathered in the living room to watch a film. Neville curled up with his favorite stuffed snake in his arms.
Then—
Boom.
The front of the house exploded in a violent burst. Smoke and splinters filled the air.
Frank instinctively shielded Neville, pushing him to safety.
A dark figure stepped through the debris.
Bellatrix Black.
With a flick of her wand, ropes lashed out and slammed Frank and Alice to the floor. They writhed, bound and helpless.
Neville, trembling, crawled behind the television. His eyes widened as he peeked through the gaps.
Following Bellatrix was a two-year-old girl with wild black curls and silver-gray eyes. She clutched a snake plush toy and toddled into the room, oblivious to the chaos. She was humming to herself.
Bellatrix's eyes locked onto the Longbottoms. "Tell me what Dumbledore knows. Where is he hiding? And what does he plan to do with my daughter?"
"We're not telling you anything," Frank said through clenched teeth.
"You'll rot in Azkaban," Alice added. "You'll never raise her. Dumbledore won't let you."
Bellatrix's smile twisted into something cruel.
"I already know he wants to take her from me… to turn her against me."
She raised her wand.
"Crucio!" Bellatrix screamed.
Frank convulsed violently. His scream rang through the house.
She turned the spell on Alice. Then back to Frank.
Over and over.
Neville cried silently behind the TV. But when the television wobbled and threatened to fall onto him, Bellatrix instinctively flicked her wand, shielding him with a magical barrier.
He was frozen—trapped behind a shield of golden light.
"I'll stop when you tell me the truth," she hissed.
All the while, the two year old Delphi sat quietly, rocking with her stuffed snake, unaware of the horror around her.
One Day Later
Bellatrix stood over Frank and Alice, their bodies broken, their eyes glassy. Empty.
Neville pounded against the now-faded shield, screaming.
"Mum! Dad!!" Neville's screamed.
Bellatrix turned, cradling a sleeping Delphi in her arms. With a flick of her wand, a broom flew into her grasp.
She mounted it slowly, looked down once at the wreckage—and flew into the sky with her daughter.
The shield fell.
Neville ran to his parents and collapsed in tears.
"Mum! Dad… please…" Neville screamed.
Flashback End
Neville's voice cracked. "She was there, Harry. Delphi. She didn't know what was happening, but… I watched Bellatrix torture my parents. For hours. Days."
Harry stared, stunned. There were no words.
Neville's hands were shaking again. "I… I know it wasn't Delphi's fault. But every time I see her… it's like being back there again."
Harry swallowed hard, his thoughts racing as he looked over at the other side of the classroom where Delphi sat with Hermione, flipping through her notes, her eyes distant.
One hour and thirty minutes
Library
The library was quiet, at a back table near the Restricted Section, Delphi sat alone, her mother's leather-bound potion book open in front of her. She flipped through its pages slowly.
She didn't notice when Harry sat down beside her—until she turned a page and caught him in the corner of her eye.
She blinked. "Oh. You're really serious about learning Parseltongue?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. But… I wanted to ask you something first."
Delphi closed the book gently and looked at him.
Harry hesitated, then said, "Do you remember… what your mother did to Neville's parents?"
Delphi was quiet for a moment. Then she said softly, "Oh. That."
"I don't really remember," she admitted. "I was only two. I was just playing with my stuffed snake. I didn't understand what was happening."
She traced the edge of the book with her fingers. "I only found out what she did after Dumbledore captured her. My aunt told me… everything."
Her voice lowered.
"So yes… I understand why Neville would be afraid of me. Especially since I look exactly like her."
She looked down, voice barely above a whisper.
"I was there… on the worst day of his life. I can't really blame him for how he feels."
Harry watched her, his voice calm but honest. "I don't think he hates you… he's just afraid. There's a difference."
Delphi gave a small nod. "I hope… I hope I'll be able to change that."
There was a pause.
Then she looked up and smiled faintly. "So. Let's start teaching you Parseltongue."
Nyx, her black-scaled snake, slithered onto the table and curled beside her.
Harry leaned in as Delphi began the first lesson, her voice shifting into soft hisses—gentle, controlled, and fluid.
He listened carefully, repeating sounds, watching her lips, occasionally glancing at Nyx, who offered the occasional correction in Parseltongue.