Karilovya101: Here is chapter 3. Something else to note, I will be posting this Archive of our Own as well as I have an account on there. I will also be completing my Digimon story very soon, as I have been also editing that and have recently decided that it is time to post it.
I hope you enjoy this chapter. Chapter's 4-6 will soon be uploaded. I would like to also say that Year 1 will take about 10 chapters depending on if i decide to move things around at all.
Please R . Thank you.

By the second full week at Hogwarts, everything had a rhythm. The magical staircases still liked to surprise them, but Victoire no longer panicked when one shifted beneath her feet. She had learned where to stand for the fastest way to Herbology, how to dodge the suit of armor that sang off-key in the fourth corridor, and which bench in the library had the best sunlight.

Her schedule was neatly written inside her journal:

Astronomy with all first-years on Thursday nights.

Charms twice a week with the Hufflepuffs.

Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins on Mondays and Thursdays.

Flying class with the Gryffindors on Saturday mornings.

Herbology with the Hufflepuffs on Tuesdays.

History of Magic with all houses in a lecture-style format.

Potions with the Slytherins in the dungeons.

Transfiguration with the Gryffindors every Wednesday and Friday.

Magical Ethics seminar every other Friday with all first-years.

Despite the routines forming, the feeling of truly fitting in hadn't quite arrived.

Some students already had best friends and inside jokes.
Victoire still felt like she was figuring out when it was okay to laugh loudly, or when to speak in class without sounding like she was trying too hard.

Daniel was easy to be around—quiet, kind, and never made her feel like she had to explain herself.
Josie was the opposite: blunt, sharp, and refreshingly honest in a way that made Victoire admire and fear her a little.
Ellie was sunshine and motion, always starting a new story before finishing the last one.

But even with friends, Victoire sometimes felt like she was still waiting for her real story at Hogwarts to begin.

In History of Magic, Professor Binns droned about goblin rebellions while students whispered behind hands or passed notes under desks.
Once, Victoire was sure she heard someone say "Weasley girl," but when she turned around, the room was silent again.

In the library, she studied harder than she needed to.
She wasn't falling behind—but she wasn't pulling ahead either.
Not like she thought she would.

One afternoon in the library, she saw a group of second-years laughing over a textbook. A boy pointed toward her, then leaned in to say something.
His friend glanced at her, then snorted.

Victoire kept her eyes on her notes, her hand tightening around her quill.

None of it was cruel. Not really. But it wasn't kind either.
It was that middle space—where people didn't say anything directly, but still made you feel like you were standing just outside the real Hogwarts.

When she finally made it to dinner that evening, Ellie waved from the Hufflepuff table, her whole arm swinging excitedly.
Daniel had saved her a seat at the Ravenclaw table, nudging aside a pumpkin pasty to make room.
Josie passed by on her way to Slytherin and gave her a nod that said, "Still alive? Good."

The clatter of silverware, the smells of roast chicken and baked apples, and the flickering of enchanted ceiling stars above the Great Hall wrapped around her like a soft blanket.

It helped.
Not enough to make the world feel simple.
But enough to remind her that she wasn't invisible.

Victoire sat down, unfolded her napkin, and reached for a roll. Another day done.

The corridor outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom buzzed with leftover tension from their latest lesson—a partnered dueling drill that ended with half the class on the floor and the other half bragging or sulking.

Victoire lingered near the wall, waiting for Ellie to catch up.
Daniel had gone on ahead, and Josie had disappeared almost immediately—Slytherins didn't usually linger after classes with other houses.

A portrait of a stern witch tutted as students jostled past, and somewhere down the hall, a floating quill zipped through the air, chasing after a forgotten homework scroll.

Two second-year students walked by, laughing under their breath.
One of them glanced over his shoulder at Victoire and said, "Typical Weasley. Looks like she's never earned anything a day in her life."

It wasn't loud.
It wasn't cruel.
But it wasn't nothing.

Victoire froze.
Her eyes stayed on her bag strap, but her heart thudded in her chest.
What did that even mean? Her family? Her house? Her answers in class? Her...

Maybe he didn't mean it badly, she told herself quickly. Maybe it wasn't even about me.

But the words stuck, like a spell that missed but still grazed.

Ellie appeared moments later, breathless from hurrying over from Herbology. "Sorry! I had to grab my gloves from the greenhouse."

Victoire nodded, managing a smile she didn't feel.

"You okay?" Ellie asked, peering at her.

"Fine," Victoire said. "Just tired."

They walked in silence.
Victoire's bag felt heavier on her shoulder, and every whisper in the hallway suddenly sounded like it could be about her—even if it wasn't.

Later at lunch, Daniel slid a chocolate frog onto her plate like it was nothing.
Josie passed her and muttered, "You still look like you're thinking too loud," before flopping down at the Slytherin table.
Ellie launched into a breathless story about a plant that tried to eat someone's quill.

It was all normal.
Friendly.
Real.

But none of it quite drowned out the echo of that one quiet voice in the hall.

It was supposed to be a quick break before dinner.
Ellie had convinced Victoire to sit with her in the courtyard "to catch the last warm light before the feast fog," and they now lounged on a low stone bench with their school bags dropped haphazardly beside them.
The sky was streaked with soft pinks and golds, and the breeze carried the smell of damp leaves and stone.

"I cannot believe we have to read that entire chapter on wand safety before Monday," Ellie said, letting her head fall back against the ivy-covered wall.
"And he expects us to summarize it in three feet of parchment. Who does that?"

"Professor Doolen, apparently," Victoire replied with a small laugh.

Ellie groaned. "I liked him better before I knew his homework style."

Nearby, a flock of first-years raced across the courtyard, chasing a runaway enchanted book that kept snapping its covers like teeth.
Victoire smiled, the world feeling a little less heavy for a moment.

They sat in comfortable silence, watching students trickle past toward the Great Hall.
Josie strode by without a word, her braid tight and her books clutched like armor.
Daniel waved from a distance and mimed tripping over his bag, making both girls giggle.

"I'm glad we're friends," Ellie said after a while, her voice more thoughtful than usual.

Victoire looked over, surprised.

"I mean it," Ellie went on. "You're easy to talk to. You listen. And you don't treat me like I'm just loud."

"You're not just loud," Victoire said with a smile.

Ellie grinned. "Thanks. Sometimes I feel like I talk too much. My brothers used to say I was born mid-sentence."

"They're just jealous you're funnier than them," Victoire said, nudging her gently.

Ellie beamed, then tilted her head, studying Victoire for a second.
"So... that boy you waved at the other day. Turquoise hair?"

Victoire blinked. "Teddy?"

"Yeah. You were looking at him like you wanted to say something but didn't."

Victoire flushed and tugged at the sleeve of her robe.
"He's just... family. Kind of."

Ellie shrugged easily. "He seems nice. Very tall, though. Like he could step over three of us at once."

Victoire laughed, grateful the conversation moved on without needing to explain more.

They lapsed into a quieter moment, the courtyard sounds washing around them.

"You ever think about what kind of witch you want to be?" Victoire asked, playing with a loose thread on her bag.

Ellie blinked. "Like... spells and stuff?"

"Not spells. I mean, the kind of person. With magic."

Ellie tilted her head thoughtfully. "Kind, I guess. Useful. Not like the witches in my gran's stories who turned people into teacups because they were bored."

Victoire laughed. "Fair."

"I think you'll be a good witch," Ellie added. "You care a lot. That's important."

Victoire didn't answer right away, but her heart eased a little.

Whatever confusion existed between her and Teddy—or what other students whispered—moments like this reminded her that she wasn't alone here. And that counted for something.

It happened between classes, on a Tuesday that felt like it had too many hours and not enough warmth.
The castle courtyard was still damp from morning mist, and Victoire was taking the long way around from Transfiguration—half to clear her head, half to avoid the usual hallway crowd.

Rainwater trickled down the stone walls, and a few portraits grumbled under their umbrellas as she passed.

That's when she saw him.

Teddy was crossing the bridge from the greenhouses, his hair a messy dusky purple today, windswept and wild.
He was laughing at something said by the boy beside him—taller, darker-skinned, with the same easy grin Victoire remembered from the train ride.

Hunter Rosewood.

She hadn't seen him since then. He felt like a story from a different life—one before timetables and dueling drills and endless homework scrolls.

Teddy spotted her first. Their eyes met across the stone path.

Victoire's steps slowed.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her satchel without thinking.

Teddy smiled—a small, unsure thing—and looked like he might say something.
But Hunter was already waving.

"Victoire!" he called, jogging the last few steps. "Hey! Thought you'd been eaten by a library shelf."

She gave a startled smile. "Hi. Um. Just heading there, actually."

Hunter grinned. "Called it. Brainy types always end up hiding in the stacks. Teddy wasn't wrong."

Victoire laughed, warmth blooming under her skin.
"What else did he say?"

"Just that you're better at Charms than he ever was," Hunter said easily.

Teddy had caught up by then, shoving Hunter lightly with his shoulder.
"Stop exaggerating."

Victoire looked at him, heart lifting.
They hadn't talked properly since the party. Just nods. Just half-smiles.

"You okay?" Teddy asked, voice lower, real.

"I'm fine," she said automatically. Then—because she didn't want to lie completely—"It's just... a lot."

Teddy nodded, pushing his hands deep into his robes' pockets.
"Yeah. First few weeks feel like you're trying to run a race when you don't even know where the track is."

Hunter leaned in conspiratorially. "He's just annoyed you're probably better at spells than he was."

Teddy rolled his eyes but grinned.
"You're doing alright though, yeah?"

Victoire hesitated, glancing down at her shoes.
"I think so. Some people are weird about... you know. Me."

Teddy's grin faded a little.
"You're not imagining it. Some people are dumb. Forget them."

Hunter clapped Teddy on the back.
"C'mon, we'll miss broom practice!"

Teddy lingered for half a second longer.
"See you around, Vic."

"See you," she said, almost too quietly.

As they jogged off, Hunter threw her a quick two-finger salute.

Victoire stood there for a moment, staring at the empty bridge, listening to the rain tap-tap-tap against the stones.

He saw her.

He smiled.

He asked if she was okay.

And somehow... she felt a little less invisible.

The corridor behind the greenhouses was quiet in the late afternoon, lit only by slanted sun through tall, grimy windows.
The warmth from earlier had faded, and the castle's stones felt cool and damp against her hand when she leaned against the wall.

Most students had already gone to dinner, their voices echoing faintly from the distant Great Hall.
Victoire had stayed behind, pretending to organize her Herbology notes while the truth sat tangled in her chest.

She wasn't fine.

She was overwhelmed. Homesick. Frustrated.
And most of all, disappointed in herself for not just "getting it" faster.

The worst part was knowing she wasn't supposed to feel that way—not her.
Not Victoire Weasley.
The first of the next generation.
The one who was supposed to shine without stumbling.

And yet, here she was, hiding behind a greenhouse and holding her breath.

Footsteps echoed on the stone floor. She braced herself for a professor.
But it was Teddy.

He stopped a few feet away, hands deep in his pockets.
"Hey," he said quietly, like he wasn't sure if he should even be there.

Victoire blinked, caught between relief and wanting to bolt. "Hey."

Teddy looked rumpled—tie askew, robes half-unbuttoned, hair faded from purple to a soft brown, like he hadn't realized he'd shifted it.

"Hunter said you looked a bit off earlier," he said. "Just wanted to check."

Victoire shrugged, but it felt stiff. "I'm okay."

Teddy frowned slightly, stepping closer.
"You sure?"

She didn't answer. She closed her Herbology book slowly and set it beside her.

"I just needed a minute."

Teddy looked down the hallway, then slid to the floor beside her, legs stretched out.

"You get one minute," he said. "Then I'm dragging you to the kitchens for biscuits."

Victoire gave the smallest smile, but didn't laugh.

"Do you remember your first month here?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said without hesitation. "It was awful."

She turned, startled.

"You made it sound fun," she said.

"I left out the part where I missed Gran so much I cried into my pillow," he said. "And the part where I couldn't even get my feather to float."

Victoire hugged her knees.
"Why didn't you tell me?"

Teddy scratched the back of his neck, his hair rippling into a darker shade by accident.
"I dunno. You were so excited. I didn't want to wreck that."

"But you did," Victoire said before she could stop herself. "You made me think it would be easy."

"I didn't mean to," he said, voice low. "I guess I wanted it to be better for you. Like... if it was hard for me, it wouldn't be hard for you."

She frowned. "That's not fair."

"I know." He nudged a pebble with his boot. "You're brave, Vic. I figured you'd handle it better than I did."

She let that sit there, unsure if it was a compliment or just another weight.

"I miss you," she said finally. "You used to tell me everything."

Teddy looked at her seriously.
"I still want to."

"Then why don't you?"

"I don't know." He kicked the pebble again.
"It's like... you blinked and grew up. And I don't know if I'm supposed to treat you like a little sister anymore. Or something else."

Victoire felt her chest tighten. "I'm still me."

"I know," he said, smiling faintly. "I'm just slow catching up."

The silence between them wasn't heavy this time. It was almost... careful. Like neither wanted to break it too fast.

"Anyway," Teddy said, standing up and offering his hand. "You're stuck with me, kid. And if you don't come eat something soon, Grandma Molly will storm the castle."

Victoire laughed — a real, warm sound.

She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

As they walked toward the Great Hall together, the castle hummed quietly around them — enchanted lamps flickering on, staircases creaking as they shifted above.

Victoire wasn't sure Hogwarts would ever feel simple.

But she wasn't alone. And maybe, for now, that was enough.

The Magical Ethics classroom looked just like last time—round cushions in a circle, a fire crackling gently in the corner, and dust motes spinning lazily in shafts of light from the tall windows.

Victoire settled next to Daniel, hugging her knees.
She wasn't as nervous anymore—not like the first week—but her stomach still flipped a little at the idea of speaking up.

The faint smell of chalk and old wood hung in the air, mixed with the soft pop of the fire.

Professor Greaves entered with her usual calm, her green robes swishing as she moved between the circle of students.
"Welcome back," she said warmly. "Today's question is this..."

With a flick of her wand, the floating chalkboard lit up:

If you can do something, does that mean you should?

A few students tilted their heads. Others frowned, as if trying to hear a question behind the question.

"Let's think about it," Greaves said.
"Say you know a difficult spell. Or you know a secret about someone. Should you always use what you know, just because you can?"

Millie from Gryffindor hesitantly raised her hand.
"If it's just a prank," she said, "and nobody really gets hurt... is that bad?"

"Maybe," Greaves said. "But how do you know they thought it was funny too?"

Millie shrugged, a little unsure now.

Ellie piped up, fiddling with the tassel on her boot.
"What if someone dares you to do something? And you don't even want to, but you don't want to look scared either?"

Greaves smiled. "That's a very real kind of pressure. Power doesn't always come from spells—it can come from groups. From fear."

Across the circle, Isaac the tall Hufflepuff spoke up, pushing his glasses up his nose.
"Sometimes just knowing something feels like having power. Like... if you hear a rumor and you could use it against someone."

Daniel nodded. "Or during an argument. You could say something really mean just to win."

Greaves nodded back. "Words are a kind of magic too. Sometimes the most dangerous kind."

Josie spoke next, voice low and guarded.
"If you act tough, people leave you alone."

Greaves didn't challenge her.
"And do you like having to act tough?"

Josie shrugged one shoulder but didn't answer.

Then Victoire found herself raising her hand without really planning to.

"What if..." she said, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve, "what if people already expect you to be good at things? Just because of your name? Or your family?"

The room went quiet.

Greaves walked closer and crouched nearby, making the circle feel smaller, safer.
"That can feel heavy," she said gently. "But your magic is yours, not anyone else's."

Victoire nodded quickly, not trusting herself to speak more.

From across the circle, Nia—small, quiet Nia from Hufflepuff—gave her a tiny nod.
Josie didn't say anything, but her arms uncrossed a little.
Ellie leaned against her lightly, just enough that Victoire could feel the warmth.

The circle loosened after that.
Jasper bragged about slipping past Filch without getting caught, and Greaves just raised an eyebrow and asked if that made him clever or lucky.
Millie muttered an apology about her earlier answer.
Even the shy Ravenclaw boy in the corner mentioned how he once wished he could hex his brother—and how glad he was that he hadn't.

When the session ended, they filed out into the corridor, the walls still whispering faint drafts of ancient magic.

"That was brave," Ellie said, bumping her shoulder against Victoire's.

"I didn't feel brave," Victoire said.

"You still were," Daniel added, offering her a quiet smile.

Josie, walking a little ahead, muttered,
"People expect stuff from me too. Doesn't mean they're right."

Victoire smiled—not just because of what they said, but because it felt true.

Maybe Hogwarts was still overwhelming.

But she wasn't facing it alone.

The next morning, Victoire found a letter waiting on her pillow.

At first, she thought it was from her mum—maybe a reminder to brush her hair more or eat more greens. But the handwriting was crooked, the letters squished together and wobbling across the page.

It was from Louis.

She sat up, brushing her hair back as she tore open the envelope.
The parchment was a little wrinkled and smelled faintly like cinnamon and sea salt.

Hi Vic,
Maman helped me write this but I told her not to fix my spelling.
I miss you. Dominique says I should stop talking about you but I don't want to.

Victoire smiled, feeling her throat tighten.

School here is boring. We had soup two days in a row. Daddy says you're probly learning real magic now. Is it scary? Did your wand explode yet?
Can you teach me a spell when you come back? Not a sock spell. A cool one. Maybe fire.

At the bottom, there was a drawing of stick-figure Victoire with wild hair, her wand shooting little squiggly stars.

Victoire laughed softly, pressing the letter to her chest.

Chloe was still asleep. Angel was sitting upside down on her bed, reading a thick Herbology book without looking remotely tired.
Victoire curled by the window, letting the soft morning light warm her knees.

For the first time all week, she didn't feel like she was holding her breath.

Later that afternoon, she spotted Teddy near the courtyard, leaning lazily against the stone railing with Hunter, Zoe, Max, and Crystal clustered around him.
They were laughing at something—probably one of Hunter's ridiculous stories.

Victoire didn't hesitate this time.

"Teddy!" she called, waving the folded letter.

He blinked in surprise but stood up straighter. "What's that?"

"A letter. From Louis."

He reached for it, eyebrows lifting. "He wrote you?"

"First one ever," she said proudly.

Hunter leaned over Teddy's shoulder. "Ooh, secret fan mail?"

Teddy gave him a shove and started reading the letter aloud in a way-too-dramatic voice.
"'I miss you. Dominique says I should stop talking about you but I don't want to.' Sounds about right."

Victoire giggled.

"Keep going!" Hunter said, grinning.

Teddy smirked and read the rest, holding up the wobbly drawing.
"That's some serious wand action there. Bet you'll blast the whole house into space."

Crystal leaned over. "Honestly? It's adorable."

Zoe nodded. "He really loves you."

Victoire's chest warmed. "He tried so hard with this."

Teddy handed the letter back carefully. "Better start working on your 'cool spell' list."

Hunter grinned. "Definitely something flashy. None of that sock-folding nonsense."

"Maybe not fire just yet," Zoe said dryly.

Max chuckled. "At least wait until your dad's not looking."

Victoire tucked the letter safely into her pocket, beaming.

Then she turned a sharp look at Teddy.
"You said you'd check in more."

He winced. "I know. I've been meaning to. It's just…"

"Everything?" she guessed.

He nodded. "Yeah. Everything."

"Well," she said, crossing her arms lightly, "I want to hear about more than just which corridor's haunted and who's snogging behind the greenhouses."

There was a full beat of silence.

Teddy blinked. "Wait—what?"

Victoire tilted her head innocently.
"Yeah. I know about that."

Hunter raised his hands like a guilty culprit.
"She asked! I just... answered."

Teddy groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
"You're eleven."

"And smart," Victoire said brightly. "I figured it out."

Crystal laughed. "She's got you cornered, Lupin."

Teddy sighed, but he was grinning too.
"This is officially my worst nightmare."

Victoire smiled, victorious.
"So don't vanish again."

"Deal," Teddy said.

She walked away a few minutes later with Louis's letter tucked close and a glow in her chest that lasted all evening.

The stars looked close enough to touch.

Victoire leaned over the brass railing of the Astronomy Tower, her breath fogging in the cold air. The telescope sat unused beside her, forgotten while she stared upward.

Their first night class had gathered all the first-years into loose groups across the rooftop. Some whispered and giggled; others scribbled frantic notes in the dark. A few had already dozed off against the stone walls.

Professor Sinistra moved among them, pointing out constellations with a wand that glowed like a star itself.

Victoire jotted notes half-heartedly. She liked the sky—it reminded her of Shell Cottage—but her mind kept wandering.

Nearby, Ellie was giggling too loudly while trying to trace the Big Dipper.

"Is it the one that looks like a spoon or a question mark?" Ellie whispered.

"It's a dipper," Josie said flatly. "Like a scoop. Why would it be a question mark?"

Daniel, standing at another telescope, pointed toward a faint cluster.
"That's Delphinus. Most people miss it," he said quietly.

Victoire smiled. Of course he would notice something most people missed.

As she shifted her telescope, a soft laugh drifted from below.
She turned—and caught sight of older students coming down from the private alcove above.

Teddy was among them.

He didn't notice her. He was laughing at something Max said, scarf slipping down around his shoulders, hair glowing a dark blue in the moonlight. Zoe was a few steps behind, grinning to herself.

Victoire looked back at her telescope before anyone could see her staring.

When the lesson ended, students packed up with clumsy fingers and chilled noses. Victoire lingered, carefully rolling her star chart.

"Victoire!"

She turned to find Zoe approaching with a flickering wandlight.

"You dropped this," Zoe said, holding out a glove.

"Oh—thanks. I didn't even notice."

Zoe shrugged. "Happens up here. First year's practically a rite of passage—losing gloves, freezing your hands off."

Victoire hesitated.
"Teddy said once... the best way to see stars was lying flat on your back."

Zoe grinned. "He still says that. Complains telescopes mess up the view."

They shared a small, real smile.

"He's been better lately," Victoire said softly.

Zoe nudged her shoulder lightly. "He talks about you, you know. A lot."

Victoire smiled, a little sad. "I miss when it was easier."

Zoe didn't say anything grand or wise—just nodded.
"It gets better."

They walked a few steps together before Zoe peeled off toward the older stairwell.

Victoire took the long way back, bag slung over her shoulder, the night cold against her cheeks.

Above her, the stars shivered in the dark sky, steady and bright.

Maybe that was enough—for now.

The Ravenclaw common room was quiet except for the ticking of an enchanted clock and the soft shuffle of parchment.

Victoire sat cross-legged on the floor near the fireplace, her Astronomy chart spread before her, notes and star maps scattered all around. Daniel sat nearby, calmly sketching a constellation with maddening precision.

"You're really good at this," Victoire said, watching him connect stars.

Daniel shrugged.
"I like patterns. They make more sense than people."

Victoire smiled. "That's fair."

He glanced at her messy chart.
"You missed a line between Vega and Deneb," he said, gently penciling it in.
"Even stars that look far apart still connect."

Victoire blinked at the chart—at the neat triangle formed once the line was added.
"Thanks."

Across the room, Chloe snoozed with a book open on her chest. Angel had her feet propped on a chair, wand twirling lazily above a floating Herbology text.

A soft knock at the door startled them.

Victoire stood and peeked through the side panel.
Ellie stood outside, practically vibrating with energy, paper-wrapped bundle in hand.

"What's the riddle?" Victoire asked.

Ellie groaned.
"'What word becomes shorter when you add two letters to it?' Hogwarts is evil."

Victoire laughed.
"It's 'short.'"

The door swung open.

Ellie bounced in, grinning triumphantly. Josie followed behind her, arms crossed like she regretted the whole journey.

Daniel didn't even glance up.
"It's supposed to make you think."

"It's supposed to make you miserable," Josie corrected, dropping her bag onto a chair.

Ellie plopped down beside Victoire, triumphantly unwrapping her contraband bundle—a warm, sticky pumpkin tart.

Victoire raised an eyebrow.
"You went to the kitchens."

"I know," Ellie said, beaming. "Worth it."

Daniel raised a brow.
"Pretty sure there's a Magical Ethics seminar about this."

"Good," Ellie said brightly. "I'll call it 'practical research.'"

Josie snatched a piece without hesitation, biting into it like a challenge.
"Research tastes fantastic."

Victoire laughed and tossed a napkin at her.
"At least don't get crumbs on the charts."

Josie wiped her mouth with a shrug. "No promises."

It wasn't a perfect week.
Not every moment was easy.

But sitting by the fire, passing stolen sweets, trading jokes across house lines—this felt real. This felt like hers.

Later that night, Victoire found herself lying on the cold, damp grass outside the courtyard, her coat tucked under her head.
The stars blazed above her, brighter than she had ever seen at Shell Cottage, stretching across the sky like endless threads.

She hadn't planned to be out so late. But after the fire in the common room dimmed and the walls felt too close, she needed to breathe open air.

Daniel joined her first, notebook still in hand.

"I can't sleep," he said, sitting down beside her. "If you wait a few minutes, you'll see a satellite."

"I'm not sure I'd even recognize it," she murmured.

"It'll look like a star... but it moves," he said, voice low and certain.

She nodded, folding her hands behind her head.
Everything felt like it moved too fast here.

Ellie appeared a moment later, sneaking barefoot across the stones.
"You lot better not be hogging the sky," she joked, flopping down dramatically beside Victoire.

"You bring snacks?" Victoire teased.

"Obviously," Ellie said proudly, producing a stolen heel of toast and a slightly crushed slice of apple pie. "I'm not a barbarian."

Josie came last, muttering under her breath about "weirdos catching colds on purpose," but she sat anyway—cross-legged, guarded, watching the stars like they owed her an explanation.

"I don't get it," Josie said. "They're just dots."

"They're stories," Daniel said, nudging his glasses up. "Old ones. Heroes, monsters... whole families. Magic, just slower."

Josie snorted. "They're just burning balls of gas, Sterling."

"That too," Daniel said without missing a beat.

For a while, none of them spoke. They just let the night settle around them, damp and wild, stitched together by soft breathing and occasional shivers.

"I didn't think Hogwarts would feel like this," Victoire whispered.

"Like what?" Ellie asked, voice muffled by toast.

"Like it might actually become home."

"It's still big and loud and confusing," Josie muttered. "But it's less awful with people who aren't idiots."

"Aw," Ellie said. "Is that... affection?"

Josie made a noncommittal noise that could have been a yes.

Daniel pointed up. "There. That one moving—that's the satellite."

They all stared, spotting the tiny speck gliding silently across the heavens.

Victoire watched it, heart swelling with something she couldn't name.


Far above, leaning against the balcony railing, Teddy Lupin stood silent in the chill.
He hadn't meant to end up here. He'd just needed air. Needed something he couldn't name either.

Hunter was already passed out in the dorm. Zoe had wandered off doing... whatever Zoe did. Max was probably studying.

Teddy leaned forward slightly, gaze snagging on a small group spread across the grass.

He spotted the pale shine of Victoire's hair instantly.
She was laughing, nudging Daniel, stealing bits of pie from Ellie, smirking at something Josie grumbled.

She looked so... settled.

It hit him harder than he expected.

He'd been her whole world once—sandcastles and bedtime stories and duels with wooden swords. And now, Hogwarts was shaping her into something he couldn't quite follow.
He didn't know where he fit anymore.

"You're thinking too loud," said a voice.

He turned, startled, to find Zoe leaning against the stone arch behind him.

"You're supposed to be stealthier," he muttered.

Zoe shrugged. "You're supposed to be sneakier."

They stood side by side for a beat, watching the tiny figures below.

"She's doing alright," Zoe said softly.

Teddy swallowed. "She doesn't need me the same way anymore."

"That's good," Zoe said. "But it doesn't mean she doesn't still want you around."

He didn't answer.

"Just... don't disappear, Teddy," Zoe added after a moment. "Even when it feels easier."

Teddy exhaled and leaned heavier on the rail.

Below, Victoire rolled onto her side, laughing at something Ellie whispered.
The others piled up beside her—warm, real, a tangle of limbs and stolen food.

Victoire tilted her head back to the stars.
"Do you think we'll still be friends in a few years?" she asked.

Ellie snorted. "When we're fifteen and dramatic?"

"Seventeen and snogging behind greenhouses," Josie deadpanned.

Daniel groaned loudly. "Stop. Please stop."

Victoire laughed, but she tucked the question away inside her, cradling it carefully.
She wanted this—this feeling—to last.

Eventually, the group rose, sleepy and shivering, brushing dew from their clothes and slipping back inside the castle.

Teddy stayed at the balcony long after their footsteps faded.

He watched the stars wheel slowly overhead—the same stars she watched.

And for a moment longer, it felt like enough.