Kariloveya101: Here is chapter 2. I did in fact upload chapters 1-3 together. I will be doing Victoire's story in yearly arcs. This story will go up to when she is about 22-23. Again, I am not splitting up the story in mutliple fanfics. It will be one cohesive fanfic that will go through arcs and transitional arcs. Please R . Thank you.
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Victoire woke to a soft, pale-blue glow filtering through the curtains around her bed. At first, she didn't remember where she was. The scent of parchment and enchanted lavender replaced the usual sea salt and wildflowers from Shell Cottage. Then it clicked—Hogwarts. Ravenclaw Tower. The Sorting. She was here.
She sat up slowly, brushing hair from her face and clutching her blanket like armor. Everything was still. The room, circular and high-ceilinged with windows overlooking the dark sky, had a certain stillness that felt sacred. The enchanted ceiling was just beginning to shift from deep indigo into the faintest tint of morning.
Her dormmates were already making their presence known, but not in any friendly, get-to-know-you kind of way.
Angel Warrington stood at the far window, quill in hand, scratching notes onto a scroll with the kind of speed that screamed either brilliance or obsession—or both. Her dark hair was tightly braided and already tucked back under a Ravenclaw-blue headband. She hadn't even looked up when Victoire stirred.
Across the room, Chloe sat curled up in her bed, facing the wall. Her long, curly hair was partially covering her face as she pretended to sleep—or maybe she wasn't pretending. Victoire couldn't tell. She considered saying something, but it felt like interrupting a private moment.
Victoire swung her legs over the edge of the bed, feet meeting a surprisingly warm floor. Magic, of course. She padded over to her trunk and opened it as quietly as she could, ruffling through robes and neatly folded sweaters. Her fingers brushed the edges of a framed family photo. Her mother had packed it. Fleur had insisted it would "remind you who you are."
She placed it on the shelf beside her bed and exhaled, steadying herself.
"You're not going to get a better shelf spot if you wait," Angel said without looking up.
Victoire blinked. "Oh—I didn't mean to…"
Angel finally glanced over her shoulder. "Just pick one. It's not a political act."
Victoire tried to laugh, but it came out more like a cough. She took the middle shelf and began unpacking mechanically—books, quills, an extra cardigan she didn't even remember bringing.
Angel returned to her scroll.
"You're working already?" Victoire asked, more to make conversation than from real curiosity.
"Yes," Angel replied. No elaboration. The scratching resumed.
Victoire glanced toward Chloe, who now had the blanket pulled over her head. Wonderful. It wasn't even breakfast, and she already felt like the least welcome guest in someone else's sleepover.
She gathered her toiletries and made her way toward the bathroom, hoping a shower would clear the sense of wrongness curling in her stomach. Everything looked beautiful—brass taps that ran endless hot water, white tile that gleamed—but it didn't feel like hers. Not yet.
When she returned, dressed in robes and hair damp but tidy, Angel was gone. Chloe was sitting up now, cross-legged, brushing her hair in silence. Their eyes met for half a second before Chloe looked away.
Victoire cleared her throat. "Morning."
Chloe nodded. "Morning."
It wasn't warm. But it wasn't cold, either. Maybe it was a start.
The bell tolled, soft and musical, announcing breakfast.
Chloe stood and grabbed her bag. "You coming?"
Victoire startled a bit. "Yeah! Just—just grabbing my things."
Chloe waited at the door. Victoire smiled, unsure if it was appreciated. She stuffed her journal into her satchel and followed.
They didn't talk on the way down the stairs, but they walked side by side, their shoes echoing faintly against the stone. Victoire glanced around the Ravenclaw common room as they passed—the star maps, the tall shelves of dusty books, the quiet hum of magic in the air.
It was beautiful. She wasn't sure if she belonged in it yet.
Victoire and Chloe entered the Great Hall together, the warm smell of toast and cinnamon mingling with the quiet hum of morning chatter. The enchanted ceiling glowed with a pale sunrise, casting soft gold light over the four house tables.
They hesitated near the entrance, where the crowd seemed to ripple and part in waves of color-coded uniforms. Chloe gave a brief nod and peeled off toward the far end of the Ravenclaw table without a word.
Victoire followed slower, her eyes drifting toward the other tables. Ellie was waving frantically from the Hufflepuff table, already halfway through her breakfast. Josie spotted her from Slytherin and offered a lazy nod.
Victoire slid into a seat beside Daniel near the middle of the Ravenclaw table. The bench felt colder than she expected. As Victoire buttered her toast clumsily, she caught a glimpse across the Great Hall. Teddy sat at the Hufflepuff table, laughing at something Hunter said. His hair today was the color of a summer sky.
He didn't see her.
She thought back to the train ride—the way Teddy had laughed with his friends, older and louder and somehow... different. It wasn't bad. Just... not what she expected.
Hogwarts wasn't a small world anymore. It was wide, noisy, and busy. And Teddy had already found his place inside it.
Victoire smiled anyway and turned back to her plate.
"Did you sleep alright?" Daniel asked.
Victoire smiled. "Yeah. It still feels… weird. Like I'm pretending to be a student in someone else's dream."
Daniel laughed softly. "Same."
An older Ravenclaw across from them leaned over casually.
"Oh, by the way—first-years have that Magical Ethics seminar starting this Friday. Every week. Bit dull, but Flitwick says it builds character."
Victoire blinked. Ethics? She hadn't heard about that yet.
She wasn't sure if she should be excited or concerned.
An older Ravenclaw glanced down the table at Victoire and nudged the boy beside him. They both looked at her too long, then turned back, whispering.
"That's the Shell Cottage girl," one murmured. "The pretty one—part Veela, right?"
Victoire looked down at her porridge. Suddenly she wasn't so hungry.
"You okay?" Daniel asked.
"Fine." She forced a smile. "Just not used to being talked about like that."
He hesitated, then said, "They're just curious. You don't have to carry it."
She gave him a genuine smile for that—small, but real.
The post owls swept in, dropping letters and parcels like feathered rain. One letter landed in Josie's lap. She barely reacted. At the Hufflepuff table, Ellie shrieked in delight over a large chocolate frog box.
Professor Flitwick floated past their table, arms full of scrolls. "Good morning, Ravenclaws! First-years, welcome! Charms class will begin promptly at nine—third corridor, Room 2B. Bring your wands, and do be punctual!"
Victoire and Daniel exchanged a glance and rose with the other first-years. On their way out, Ellie popped up from her table and jogged over.
"Vic!" she chirped. "Did you hear? We've got Flitwick for Charms! I hope I don't explode anything."
"You'll be fine," Victoire said, the nerves easing from her voice.
Josie caught up to them in the corridor, though she veered toward another hallway. "No Charms for me—I've got Potions with the Gryffindors. Ugh."
She gave a parting nod. "If Ellie blows something up, I expect a full report."
Ellie laughed. "Noted!"
The three of them walked together toward class—three houses, one uncertain friendship, and a long corridor of magic ahead.
The corridor leading to Room 2B smelled faintly of ink and old wood. Victoire, Ellie, and Daniel made their way through the crowd of first-years, following the soft hum of voices and the occasional magical misfire from excited students testing their wands.
As they shuffled into the classroom, a nearby portrait of a fat wizard in green robes harrumphed loudly.
"Another batch of dunderheads!" he proclaimed.
Ellie giggled behind her hand, and Victoire's nerves eased a little.
The classroom door stood open, and inside, Professor Flitwick was already waiting on his raised stack of books. He beamed at them as they entered.
"Ah, wonderful! First-years, please come in, come in! Find your seats, wands ready!"
Victoire slid into a desk near the front. Ellie dropped into the seat beside her, bouncing with nervous energy.
Daniel sat just behind them, quietly watching the room, his hands folded neatly on his desk.
"Now," Flitwick began, his tiny frame barely visible above the podium, "today we begin with one of the most iconic spells in modern magic:
the Levitation Charm—Wingardium Leviosa!"
The class murmured in awe. Victoire's fingers tingled as she reached for her wand. She tightened her grip on her wand, suddenly hearing Aunt Hermione's voice in her head: 'It's not about power, it's about precision.' They'd practiced that charm one summer afternoon at the Burrow, tea mugs floating just off the table. That memory steadied her hand.
Flitwick demonstrated with a casual swish and flick. A feather rose from the desk, spinning in the air like a dancer.
Victoire's first attempt was clumsy—her wand movement too quick, her voice too soft.
"Clear enunciation!" Flitwick chirped. "And a graceful motion!"
She took a breath. Swish and flick. "Wingardium Leviosa."
Her feather twitched, then slowly, shakily, lifted off the desk.
Ellie squealed. "You did it!"
Victoire blushed, surprised at the rush of pride. "Only a little."
Beside her, Ellie's feather remained stubbornly grounded. "Wingardium—ugh, stupid feather!"
Daniel tried, and his feather hovered for a split second before bursting into a puff of glittering dust.
A Gryffindor boy across the room muttered, not quietly enough, "Of course the Veela girl gets it on her second try."
Victoire's smile faded. She stared at her feather like it had betrayed her.
Flitwick didn't seem to hear the comment, but Ellie did.
"That was rude," she whispered. "You're just good. Ignore him."
Daniel looked up, calm and even. "You could try complimenting someone instead of resenting them. It works better."
The boy scoffed, but turned back to his desk without another word.
By the end of class, half the room had lifted their feathers, and three students had accidentally set theirs on fire.
Flitwick praised progress and passed out a short reading assignment for the weekend.
As they packed up, Ellie groaned. "Charms is hard. You made it look easy."
"I practiced a lot," Victoire said, quietly.
Daniel stood beside them. "People think brilliance has to be loud," he said. "But it usually isn't."
Victoire smiled at that—soft, real. "Thanks."
They made their way into the corridor, laughter from older students echoing in the halls.
Magic still tingled in her fingertips, but so did something else—something quieter, heavier.
It wasn't enough to be good. She had to prove why she was.
And maybe, just maybe, that was what Hogwarts was for.
They stepped out of the classroom into the corridor, still buzzing with the faint hum of spellwork and the electric tingle of success and failure.
Students filtered out in pairs and trios, voices climbing with retellings of floating feathers and minor magical disasters.
Ellie fell into step beside Victoire, her hands animated as always. "You were amazing! I thought I was going to set my sleeve on fire or something, but you — yours floated! It actually floated!"
"It wasn't that good," Victoire said, adjusting the strap on her bag. "It barely hovered."
"It hovered," Ellie said, brightly. "Mine just flopped over like a wet sock. Yours floated. That's magic!"
Victoire shrugged, not entirely convinced. She still felt the Gryffindor boy's words echoing in her head: Of course the Veela girl gets it.
"I just practiced a lot," she said quietly. "Aunt Hermione taught me over the summer."
Ellie's brows lifted. "Wait—you practiced the actual spell?"
"Yeah. She taught me the motion and how to say it right. She said it's not about power. Just control."
Ellie nodded enthusiastically. "That's so clever! That's, like, real Ravenclaw genius."
Victoire gave a half-smile. "Thanks."
As they turned the corner, a staircase nearby gave an ominous groan and shifted sideways, sending a group of second-years shrieking and laughing as they scrambled to adjust their path. Ellie grabbed Victoire's arm, giggling.
"Seriously, this place is wild."
Josie appeared, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. She'd clearly been waiting.
"Potions was chaos," Josie said by way of greeting. "Some Gryffindor boiled their cauldron over and cried. You lot survive Charms?"
"Barely," Ellie said, already launching into a breathless recap of feathers, floating, and Flitwick.
Josie's eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at Victoire. "You're quiet."
Victoire glanced away. "Just tired."
Josie raised an eyebrow. "Or maybe just thinking too hard about that Gryffindor's comment."
Ellie tensed. "It was rude!"
Josie shrugged. "It was typical."
"Typical?" Victoire asked.
"You'll get that a lot," Josie said. "People seeing the surface and thinking they know the whole thing."
Victoire said nothing, unsure if Josie meant it as sympathy or a warning.
"Let them think what they want," Josie added. "You'll show them otherwise. That's what Ravenclaws do."
She turned, walking ahead like the conversation was over. Ellie looked after her, then nudged Victoire.
"She's blunt, but she's not wrong."
Victoire stayed quiet a beat longer. Then, finally: "I hope I do."
The corridor stretched ahead of them, filled with the thrum of new footsteps, the creaks of moving staircases, and the flickering portraits grumbling or cheering the first-years passing by. A long, magical day was just beginning.
The castle corridors were a tangle of staircases and whispers, portraits murmuring as students passed. Victoire walked with Ellie and Daniel, trailing just behind as they navigated toward their next class. Her thoughts were still caught in the way Charms had ended—and in Josie's words afterward.
They turned a corner just as a group of older students passed. Teddy was among them—his turquoise hair unmistakable, his laugh easy and familiar.
Victoire's breath caught in her throat. For a moment, it was like being back at Shell Cottage, watching him throw sea pebbles into the surf.
Teddy looked up. Their eyes met.
He grinned quickly—breezy and distracted—and tossed her a thumbs-up, the kind he'd give a younger sibling. Then he laughed at something Hunter said and didn't look back.
Ellie blinked. "Who was that?"
Victoire adjusted her bag on her shoulder. "Teddy Lupin. He's... a family friend."
"He didn't stop."
"He's probably just busy," she said, forcing the words out lightly.
Daniel offered a half-shrug. "Older kids get wrapped up in their own stuff. Doesn't mean they don't care."
Victoire didn't respond. She just kept walking, feeling like a little thread had been tugged loose inside her.
They walked in silence for a minute until Josie appeared, waiting at the top of the next stairwell. She pushed off the wall and joined them, eyes sharp.
"You alright?" she asked Victoire.
Victoire hesitated. "He waved. That's all."
Josie tilted her head. "The 'barely-a-wave' wave. Classic."
There was a flicker of something like sympathy in her voice, though it disappeared quickly.
"Some Gryffindor called me 'Yank' in Potions today. Like I just flew in from a saloon with a talking eagle."
Ellie groaned. "Seriously?"
Josie scowled. "Yeah. Like being American means I'm some kind of idiot."
Victoire met her gaze. "That's awful."
Josie shrugged, but the movement was tight. "Whatever. Let them talk. Doesn't mean they're right."
They reached the next corridor, voices around them rising and falling like a tide. Victoire glanced over her shoulder, but Teddy was already gone.
Maybe this was just what growing up looked like. Maybe she just hadn't caught up yet.
The group had found a quiet corner in the Hogwarts library, tucked behind a short wall of Herbology texts.
A round table sat beneath an arched window where afternoon sunlight spilled across open books and parchment scrolls. Every so often, a book fluttered its pages like wings or a lantern bobbed slightly in the still air.
Victoire sat with Ellie, Daniel, and Josie, each still half-processing the day's lessons.
After Charms, their class schedules had split. Ravenclaws had History of Magic with the Gryffindors, while Ellie and Josie had gone off to Herbology with the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs.
Now, they had a short free period before dinner—and later that evening, Astronomy, which all first-years attended together under the stars.
"I can't believe we have homework already," Ellie groaned, tilting her chair back just enough to earn a warning glance from Madam Pince at the front desk.
"It's literally day one."
Josie didn't look up from her parchment. "Welcome to Hogwarts."
Daniel offered a soft laugh. "It's just a reading. Easy start."
Josie rolled her eyes. "You say that now. Wait until someone sets fire to a cauldron and you're scrubbing floors with your wand and regret."
Ellie wrinkled her nose. "Can they actually make us do that?"
"Yes," Josie said flatly. "Ask the Hufflepuff with ash in her eyebrows."
Victoire smiled, but there was a tension in the air—subtle, but present. She felt it coiling beneath the surface of their banter.
From another table across the library, a loud laugh broke the quiet—one of the older Ravenclaws. Josie's eyes flicked toward them, sharp.
"What?" Ellie asked.
"Nothing," Josie muttered, but there was a tightness to it. "Just wondering what it's like to be that confident for no good reason."
"That's a little harsh," Daniel said gently.
Josie shrugged, fiddling with her quill. "Maybe. But not wrong."
Daniel looked like he wanted to push further—but didn't. Instead, he changed the subject. "Astronomy tonight. You think we'll get to use the big telescopes?"
Ellie perked up immediately. "I hope so! I've never looked at the stars through anything but a bedroom window."
Josie snorted, a little softer this time. "It's mostly clouds and freezing."
"You're a joy," Ellie said dryly.
Victoire stayed quiet. She watched them all—Ellie brushing tension under brightness, Daniel sidestepping arguments, and Josie poking holes in everything without fully meaning to.
She didn't know where she fit yet. But she wanted to.
She glanced across the room at the groups of older students—laughing, huddled over books—and wondered if Teddy was somewhere in the mix.
But she didn't see him.
"Do you think we'll stay friends after this year?" she asked suddenly.
Ellie answered without hesitation. "Of course we will! This is our starting story."
Daniel smiled. "Depends on if we survive Astronomy."
Josie raised an eyebrow. "Depends on if Ellie stops calling it a story."
Ellie pouted. "You're all too cynical."
"And you're allergic to reality," Josie replied, smirking.
Victoire laughed—genuinely this time. The tension eased just a little.
It wasn't perfect. But maybe that's what made it real.
Later that night, after dinner and a long, chilly Astronomy lesson beneath a blanket of clouds, Victoire curled up in her Ravenclaw dormitory, her journal open across her knees.
The room was quiet. Chloe had already turned in, and Angel was still scribbling in a textbook under the glow of a hovering lamp.
Victoire's bed curtains were half-drawn, giving her a bit of privacy without full isolation.
She dipped her quill into ink and started writing.
First day. I'm so tired. I thought Hogwarts would feel magical the whole time. It does, kind of. But it's also weird. Big. Loud. The staircases move when you least expect it. The portraits whisper about you. Everyone already seems to know where to go and what to say.
Charms was okay. I got the feather to float a little. But now I wonder—did I do it because I practiced with Aunt Hermione? Or because of... the Veela stuff? I don't want that to be the only reason people think I'm good at magic. I want to earn it.
She paused, staring at the ink as it pooled on the page.
Some Gryffindor said something today. Not nice. I didn't say anything back. I wish I had. But I didn't know what to say. I still don't.
Across the room, Angel turned a page with a snap and muttered to herself. Victoire blinked and wrote again.
I like Ellie. She talks a lot, but she's nice. Daniel is really smart in a quiet way. Josie's kind of scary but also kind of cool? She says stuff that feels true even if it's not nice. I don't know what they think of me yet.
She hesitated, then scrawled a last line:
What if I'm not smart enough for Ravenclaw?
She stared at it, unsure if she should cross it out.
She didn't.
With a soft sigh, she closed the journal, tucked it under her pillow, and pulled the covers up to her chin.
The stars above her bed flickered softly, like they were breathing with her.
"I'll figure it out," she whispered.
She hoped it was true.
Breakfast the next morning was louder than yesterday, with students sliding into benches, scarfing down toast, and shouting over the clatter of plates.
Victoire entered the Great Hall with Daniel, her bag thumping against her hip with every step.
"Where's Ellie?" she asked, scanning the Hufflepuff table.
"Probably still brushing toast crumbs off her schedule," Daniel said with a smile.
They reached the Ravenclaw table, and Victoire sat down, suddenly very aware of how many students were already seated around her—how many pairs of eyes turned when she arrived.
Not in a bad way. Just… aware.
As she poured herself pumpkin juice, her eyes wandered for a moment across the hall—to the Hufflepuff table.
She spotted Teddy halfway down, laughing with his friends. He didn't see her.
Or if he did, he didn't show it.
She turned back to her plate a little too fast—and her elbow bumped a pitcher of milk. It toppled, pouring across the table and into someone's half-finished bowl of porridge.
"Oi!" the student yelped, jerking back. Milk sloshed across their sleeve.
"I'm so sorry!" Victoire grabbed a napkin and tried to mop it up, her face flushing deep red.
"It's fine," the older girl muttered, but her tone was clipped. "Maybe watch where your arms are."
A few chuckles floated nearby. Someone whispered something she couldn't quite hear, but she caught the word "graceful."
Victoire's heart pounded. She ducked her head and focused on her food, appetite gone.
Across the hall, a second-year Hufflepuff tried to balance three plates and ended up dropping an entire stack, the clatter echoing against the high ceilings. A professor flicked their wand to clean it up before half the room even noticed.
Daniel passed her the napkin she'd dropped. "Don't worry," he said. "It happens."
"Not to them," she mumbled, nodding toward the upper-years.
"They just hide it better," Daniel replied.
Ellie slid in a moment later, breathless. "Did I miss something?"
Victoire shook her head quickly. "Nothing important."
But it felt important.
Not because it was a big deal—but because it made her feel clumsy. Seen in the wrong way. Again.
She poked at her eggs. Another day at Hogwarts had begun, and she was already ready for it to be over.
Friday arrived with gray skies and a sharp breeze that made the castle's tall windows rattle. The day had already been long—History of Magic, a soggy Herbology session in the greenhouse, and now, the mysterious first-years-only seminar listed on everyone's schedule simply as: "Magical Ethics."
Victoire walked alongside Ellie and Daniel toward Classroom 1A, one of the older, quieter corners of the castle near the Transfiguration wing.
Josie caught up with them at the hallway turn, her braid damp from the mist.
"So what's this supposed to be?" Ellie asked, eyeing the heavy wooden door ahead.
"No idea," Josie said. "Probably another way to scare us out of using magic to prank people."
"I thought that's what Filch was for," Daniel added, earning a rare smirk from Josie.
Inside, the classroom was unlike any they'd been in so far. No cauldrons, no desks—just low cushions arranged in a wide circle on a thick blue rug.
A floating chalkboard hovered gently behind a single chair at the front, its surface rippling faintly like water.
An older witch with bright green robes and silver hair greeted them as they filed in. "Welcome, first-years. Please find a seat anywhere you like."
They settled in—Victoire next to Daniel, Ellie cross-legged beside Josie.
"My name is Professor Greaves," the woman said. "This course isn't about potions or spells. It's about choices. Who we are when we use magic. How we use it. Why we should—or shouldn't."
A hush fell across the room. Even Ellie sat straighter.
"This seminar happens every other week," Greaves continued. "It's a chance to talk. To think. You won't be graded—but you will be expected to participate. The only way this works is if you bring your thoughts with you."
She tapped the floating chalkboard, and a question appeared in elegant script: "Should all magic be legal?"
The letters shimmered slightly before settling into place.
Ellie blinked. "That's… big."
Josie leaned forward. "Define 'all.'"
Professor Greaves smiled. "Excellent question. What do we mean when we say 'all'? Love potions? Memory charms? Curses?"
Victoire felt her pulse quicken. No wands. No instructions. Just questions.
Someone raised a hand and asked if the Unforgivable Curses were ever justified. Another asked about magical creatures being used in sports.
Soon, the room was filled with overlapping voices and thoughts.
Victoire didn't speak, not at first. She listened.
And that, Greaves said at the end, was the beginning of all ethics—listening.
As they left, Ellie rubbed her temples. "That was like getting hit by a thinking brick."
"I liked it," Josie said. "It's the first time anyone here asked what we think, not just what we can do."
Daniel glanced at Victoire. "You were quiet."
She shrugged. "Still thinking."
And she was—about power, about people, and about what kind of witch she really wanted to become.
Saturday morning came with soft light through the dormitory windows and the welcome silence of no classes.
Victoire lay in bed a little longer than usual, watching the charmed stars on the ceiling slowly fade into a bright, enchanted sky.
Her muscles ached from climbing the Astronomy Tower stairs and her brain still buzzed with everything they'd learned—and everything she hadn't said out loud yet.
Downstairs, the common room was quiet. She took her journal with her and sat near the arched window, tucked into one of the corner chairs. She didn't write. Just held the journal in her lap and looked out at the sky.
A letter from her maman sat in her bag, unopened since breakfast. She knew what it would say—pride, encouragement, reminders to eat. Her parents never expected her to be perfect.
But Victoire expected it of herself.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if Teddy was already having breakfast with his friends. She hadn't seen much of him at all since they arrived.
A quiet knock startled her.
It was Daniel.
"You left this," he said, holding up her quill. "Again."
Victoire smiled faintly and took it. "Thanks."
He didn't leave right away, just stood beside her, looking out at the grounds.
The grounds shimmered slightly where the mist clung to the grass.
"Do you like it here?" he asked.
She thought for a moment. "I think I will."
Daniel nodded. "It's okay if it takes time."
After he left, she finally opened the letter. It smelled faintly like the sea.
Her maman's handwriting danced across the page:
We miss you. Louis keeps checking the fireplace. Dominique told everyone she's your owl manager now. Be kind. Work hard. Don't forget who you are, even when you're learning who you'll become.
Victoire read the last line again.
Don't forget who you are, even when you're learning who you'll become.
She closed the letter, folded it carefully, and slipped it back into her journal.
Outside the window, a gust of wind shook the trees.
The castle stood firm.
And so would she.
