The Boy Who Lived and The Cursed Child: Philosopher's Stone
Snape POV
Hogwarts (Scotland)
Dumbledore office
The fireplace crackled softly as Dumbledore and Snape stood across from one another, the shadows of the flickering flames dancing on the stone walls.
"I heard you gave Delphi Saturday detention," Dumbledore said, his tone mild, though his eyes were sharp with interest.
"Yes," Snape replied curtly.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "An A and a Saturday detention—it's a curious combination."
Snape's arms were crossed, his expression unreadable. "She's naturally gifted with potions. That much is obvious."
"But the problem," he continued, "is that she showed no hesitation in disregarding the instructions. She didn't even adjust the ingredients—she discarded the entire method like it was trash."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, listening.
"She didn't follow safe procedures. The result was stable this time—but it could've been dangerous. She was lucky." Snape said.
Snape's eyes narrowed. "I know Bellatrix Black trained her in potion-making when she was barely three years old. And I was watching her closely today—Delphi mimics her mother in every detail."
He spoke the next part with a faint edge of concern.
"The way she stirs, the way she times the reactions, even her grip on the ladle. She's not just talented—she's a mirror. A reflection of Bellatrix."
"She lived with her for six years," Snape said. "Of course she mimicked her. Children absorb everything."
Dumbledore folded his hands behind his back.
"So then, Severus… what do you plan to do?"
Snape's gaze turned toward the window, where the moonlight filtered through the glass.
"If she repeats that same behavior tomorrow morning, I intend to test her." Snape said.
"To see whether she truly understands what she's doing…" Snape said quietly, "or if she's simply repeating the ghost of her mother's methods."
"You know," Dumbledore said gently, "old habits are hard to change."
Snape nodded. "Yes. After today's class, I decided to observe her throughout the day—to see how she behaves in other subjects."
He folded his arms, his tone darkening. "She walks the same way as her. The same posture… the same pace. For a moment, it felt like I was watching a younger version of Bellatrix Black—only with green eyes."
Dumbledore remained quiet, his gaze thoughtful.
Snape continued, "She's already being whispered about. Her classmates are talking behind her back. The only question is: how long until she snaps?"
Dumbledore gave a small nod. "It was only her first day… but even so, she's already formed friendships with Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter."
"Yes. I noticed," Snape said, narrowing his eyes. "She's even teaching Potter Parseltongue."
Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Barely a day, and they've already become close."
Snape's voice lowered. "The irony… Potter, the boy who survived Voldemort, becoming friends with the daughter of one of his most loyal followers."
He paused. "The Dark Lord murdered his parents—and now, their son shares a table with the child of someone who served him without question."
"Fate," Dumbledore said softly, "is a strange thing. It rarely follows the path we expect… and it's never simple."
He turned toward Snape, his tone gentler now. "But don't push her too hard, Severus. She's only in her first year."
Snape stared at the fire for a moment, then turned away, his cloak billowing slightly as he walked toward the door.
"I'm not making any promises," he said coldly. "But I will make sure she doesn't become a copy of her parents."
And with that, he left the office, the door closing quietly behind him.
Delphi POV
Snape Class
The dungeon was cool and quiet as students began filing in for their first class of the day. Delphi took her usual seat near the front, setting her mother's leather-bound potion book gently on the table.
A moment later, Hermione Granger sat down beside her.
"It looks like we're sharing the class with Slytherin again," Delphi remarked, glancing across the room.
"Yes… sadly," Hermione replied, frowning slightly.
Before they could say more, a girl with neatly braided dark blonde hair sat down beside Delphi on the other side.
"Hi. I'm Astoria Greengrass," she said with a soft smile.
Delphi turned to her. "Nice to meet you. I'm Delphi Black Gaunt."
"And I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione added, though her tone was cautious.
Hermione glanced between them. "I'm just a little surprised… a Slytherin sitting beside two Gryffindors."
Astoria gave a light shrug. "I know we have a reputation. But I'm not like the rest of them."
She leaned in slightly. "Honestly, I was just curious about Delphi."
Delphi raised an eyebrow. "Curious?"
Astoria nodded. "A lot of Slytherins have been calling you the Heir of Slytherin… or Princess Slytherin."
Hermione's brow furrowed. "Seriously?"
"Most of them aren't happy," Astoria continued. "They think someone like you—someone with Slytherin blood—shouldn't be in Gryffindor. They say the heir belongs to their house."
Delphi's expression didn't change, but her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of her book.
Hermione turned to her, voice firm. "She might be the Heir of Slytherin by blood—but she's got the heart of a Gryffindor. And they can't take that from her."
Astoria looked between them, then smiled. "Well… for what it's worth, I think it's kind of brilliant."
Delphi glanced sideways at Hermione, who offered a small but sincere smile.
"Thanks," Delphi said quietly. "Both of you."
Professor Snape entered the classroom with his usual cold authority, robes sweeping behind him. He stopped at the front and scanned the room.
"Today, turn to page two. You will be brewing a Burn-Healing Paste," he announced.
"I expect each of you to follow the instructions precisely. No improvisation. No assistance. You will be graded based on your adherence to the procedure, your technique, and the final quality of your potion."
He stepped aside, arms folded. "I'll be watching. Begin."
The class stirred to life. Students gathered ingredients, reviewed notes, and lit their cauldrons. Delphi, however, worked in silence, her schoolbook still closed beside her.
She didn't need it.
She began by grinding her snake fangs into an exceptionally fine, silver-dust consistency. She added them first, not third. In a small side bowl, she blended the aloe extract and Murtlap essence together—a combination the book warned against due to instability. Delphi, however, stirred it in precisely, with care.
Nearby, Hermione glanced over. "Are you sure you're following the instructions?"
Delphi replied quietly, "It feels unnatural to follow the book exactly. This method just… comes to me."
Next, she stirred the mixture three times clockwise, paused, then followed with two counter-clockwise swirls.
Astoria Greengrass, working at the station beside her, frowned. "Wait… I thought we were supposed to stir five times clockwise?"
"Both methods can work," Delphi replied, still focused. "If you know how to balance the reactions."
She raised the flame slightly higher than recommended, bringing her potion to a controlled shimmer rather than a boil. As the steam turned pale blue, she added the salamander blood midway through the process—rather than at the end, as written.
Finally, her potion thickened to a smooth, golden-orange paste, glowing faintly and releasing a subtle herbal scent—more fragrant and stable than anything else in the room.
Snape, who had been silently observing her from a distance, stepped forward.
He looked at her cauldron, then at her.
"It seems you naturally don't follow instructions."
Delphi met his gaze. "It just feels… right."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "So you mimic the instinctive, chaotic style of your mother. Bellatrix Black never cared about rules. She brewed by emotion—not science. You may think that's brilliance… but it's dangerous."
He was about to say more when—
Boom!
A small explosion erupted across the room. Astoria Greengrass shrieked as her cauldron cracked and smoke engulfed her workstation. She was left coughing, her robes dusted in ash.
Snape flicked his wand, clearing the air with a sharp gust of magic. His eyes narrowed.
He turned back to Delphi.
"Very well, Miss Black Gaunt," he said slowly. "Since first-year brewing seems to pose no challenge for you, I'm assigning you a greater one."
Delphi straightened slightly.
"You will mentor Astoria Greengrass for the entire school year," Snape said coldly. "Every potion, every class. You will be responsible for her progress."
Her eyes widened. "The whole year?"
Snape's expression did not change. "Yes. And whatever grade she earns, so will you."
Gasps rippled through the classroom.
"It doesn't matter if you present me with a perfect potion," Snape continued. "If she fails, you fail. If she succeeds, then you will have proven that you understand more than instinct—you understand how to teach, how to correct, and how to lead."
He turned to Astoria, who looked pale and shocked.
"This begins now." Snape said.
Astoria Greengrass glanced hesitantly at Delphi, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for the ingredients.
"I'm going to do my best," she whispered.
Delphi gave a patient smile.
"It's okay. Don't rush. Just breathe, and we'll go step by step."
She stood beside her, posture confident. "Let's start making the Burn-Healing Paste. I'll talk you through it."
One Hour Later
The dungeon was filled with bubbling cauldrons and the murmurs of brewing students. While most were nearing completion, Astoria was barely hanging on.
First attempt:
Astoria forgot to crush the snake fangs. She dropped them whole into the cauldron, which caused an immediate violent reaction when combined with the Murtlap essence. The cauldron cracked down the middle from the internal pressure and hissed loudly as smoke poured out.
Second attempt:
She set the flame too high, boiling instead of simmering. When she added the aloe, it scalded, darkening instantly. She stirred the wrong direction and knocked the cauldron off balance. The bottom melted, and she had to start again.
Third attempt:
Astoria confused dried nettle with ground fluxweed, both stored in identical jars. The interaction with salamander blood caused a small explosion, sending a puff of black smoke into her face and staining her robes. Delphi quickly cast a minor shield charm to protect her hands.
Fourth attempt:
This time, she made it to the final stage. But instead of slowly adding two drops of salamander blood, Astoria poured in the entire vial, thinking it would "boost" the effect. The result was a burnt-black sludge, giving off an acrid, acidic odor. The mixture curdled instantly, releasing a bubbling hiss.
Snape, who had been circling the room, approached silently and stared into the scorched cauldron. He waved his wand to cast a diagnostic charm. The spell turned red—a sign of complete failure.
His voice was cutting and flat.
"Astoria Greengrass: F."
Astoria swallowed hard, her face red with shame.
Snape turned his gaze on Delphi.
"And you, Miss Black Gaunt—F as well."
Delphi's breath caught. "Sir—"
He raised a hand. "No discussion. As her mentor, you are graded based on her outcome. The potion is unusable, volatile, and improperly composed at every stage."
He pointed at the list on the blackboard behind him, where the grading rubric appeared magically:
Potions Grading Criteria:
Ingredient Preparation: Crushed incorrectly, improper substitutions
Flame Management: Overheated and uncontrolled
Stirring Technique: Inconsistent, incorrect direction
Sequence and Timing: Critical step (Salamander Blood) improperly handled
Final Product: Potion unstable, toxic, ineffective
Final Grade: F
Snape turned and continued down the aisle without another word.
Delphi stared at the board, then at Astoria's ruined potion.
Astoria whispered, her voice cracking, "I'm sorry… I really tried."
Delphi didn't respond at first. Her fingers curled against the side of the table.
Finally, she exhaled. "It's alright. This was only the first try. We'll do better next time."
"I have an idea," Delphi said, her voice low but encouraging. "After classes are over, meet me back here in the Potions classroom. We'll practice together—just the two of us."
Astoria looked up, surprised. "Back here?"
Delphi nodded.
"Yes. We'll go over everything again. This time, no pressure. I'll explain every step and help you get comfortable with it."
Astoria hesitated… then slowly nodded.
"Okay. I want to do better."
Delphi extended her hand. "And you will. We'll keep going until we get it right."
Astoria took it, and for the first time all day, she managed a small smile.
Ten Minutes Later
The room was quiet again, except for the occasional clatter of cauldrons being packed away.
Snape stood near his desk, arms folded, surveying the students with his cold, sharp gaze.
"Since Thursday's class will be longer," he said, his voice cutting through the room, "I will be testing your ability to gather ingredients as well as brew."
A few students exchanged uneasy glances.
"Your next grade," Snape continued, "will be based not only on following instructions and brewing the potion, but also on how successfully you collect the required ingredients, manage your cauldron preparation, and produce the final result."
He paced slowly between the desks.
"You will not always find neatly bottled ingredients waiting for you," Snape said coldly. "Outside these walls, a competent witch or wizard must know how to gather, identify, and prepare materials in their natural state."
He stopped in front of Delphi.
His voice dropped slightly, sharp and deliberate.
"Remember, Miss Black Gaunt—your grade is reflected through how well you mentor Astoria Greengrass."
Delphi nodded silently, standing tall despite the weight of his gaze.
Snape studied her for a long moment before adding,
"Since your chaotic, instinct-driven potion-making style poses no real challenge at the first-year level… this assignment should provide a far greater test of your abilities—and your patience."
There was a finality in his tone.
He turned back toward his desk.
"Class dismissed," Snape said curtly. "Be ready for Thursday."
Students gathered their things quickly, the room filling with soft whispers and hurried footsteps as they filed out.
Delphi glanced sideways at Astoria, who looked both nervous and determined.
Quietly, without drawing attention, Delphi murmured:
"We'll practice gathering too. Don't worry—we're going to be ready."
Astoria smiled shyly and nodded.
Together, they left the dungeon behind
Five Minutes Later – Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom
The corridors buzzed with the noise of moving students, but Delphi walked quietly toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, her leather satchel slung over her shoulder. She stepped inside and found an empty seat near the middle, carefully placing her books down.
A moment later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione slid into the seats beside her, each offering small, tired smiles. Delphi returned the gesture silently, grateful for the simple kindness.
The classroom filled quickly, the low murmur of chatter dying down as the door creaked open.
Professor Quirrell shuffled into the room, his violet turban askew, clutching a stack of scrolls against his chest. He moved awkwardly to the front, clearing his throat with a small cough.
"W-Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts," Professor Quirrell said, his voice faint and stuttering.
Quirrell glanced around nervously, as if expecting something to leap out of the shadows. His eyes flickered briefly toward Delphi, lingering for a second longer than on the others though she didn't notice.
Professor Quirrell shifted nervously at the front of the class, adjusting his turban.
"T-Today, I want to test your s-skills," he said, his voice trembling slightly but growing stronger with each word. "So we're going outside for a more practical lesson."
A few students exchanged surprised glances.
Immediately, Hermione raised her hand, her brow furrowed with concern.
"Professor, are you sure that's a good idea? We haven't been taught any proper offensive spells yet."
Quirrell fidgeted but gave a small, shaky smile.
"I… I am aware, Miss Granger. But… some students read ahead in their spellbooks before arriving at Hogwarts."
His gaze flickered across the classroom—perhaps lingering a fraction longer on Delphi, Harry, and Hermione.
"And besides," Quirrell added quickly, "today's task will not involve dueling. I have prepared practice dummies—enchanted dolls that you will use as targets."
"Simple spells," Quirrell reassured them. "No one will be casting anything dangerous… yet."
He shuffled the scrolls on his desk and waved a hand toward the door.
"Follow me to the courtyard." Professor Quirrell said
They stepped out into the open air of the courtyard. The afternoon sun was already starting to dip, casting long shadows across the flagstones.
Spread across the center of the courtyard were rows of tall, human-shaped target dolls. They were made of sturdy cloth and old robes, some patched together clumsily with twine and enchanted so they could sway slightly, almost lifelike in their eerie stiffness.
Some of the dolls had painted targets on their chests and foreheads; others simply stood, waiting.
Murmurs broke out among the students as they took in the scene.
Ron whistled low.
"Blimey, he wasn't kidding about practice dummies."
Hermione clutched her wand a little tighter.
"I still think this is rushing things. We haven't even formally learned a proper offensive spell."
Delphi narrowed her eyes slightly, studying the dolls. She recognized the basic enchantments on them—low-level movement spells, minor magical shields. Nothing too dangerous… yet.
Quirrell stood awkwardly near the front, wringing his hands slightly but forcing a nervous smile.
"Y-You will each try a simple stunning charm or a knockback jinx, whichever you feel most comfortable attempting. Aim for the chest. If you m-miss, you'll try again until you land a solid hit."
He gestured shakily toward the targets.
"Step forward in pairs. No competition, no pressure. Just practice." Professor Quirrell said.
Professor Quirrell scanned the gathered students and cleared his throat.
"Miss Granger, you will be the first one," he said, his voice still a little shaky but louder than before.
Hermione Granger stepped forward, her wand clutched tightly in her hand.
She glanced back briefly at Harry, Ron, and Delphi. Her nerves were clear on her face—but so was the fierce determination that often lit her brown eyes.
"You can do it," Delphi whispered encouragingly from behind her.
Hermione nodded stiffly and turned to face one of the tall practice dolls standing in the courtyard, swaying slightly in the late afternoon breeze.
She took a steadying breath, adjusted her stance exactly as she had read about in Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, and raised her wand.
Her voice was a little shaky, but firm and clear "Expelliarmus!" Hermione said a burst of red light shot from her wand—fast and direct.
It wasn't perfect—the angle tilted slightly, and her wrist wobbled at the end—but the spell struck the dummy squarely in the chest, causing it to rock backward on its stand, teetering dangerously before settling upright.
The students nearby gasped, a few whispering in impressed tones.
Hermione blinked, stunned that she had actually pulled it off. A slow, proud smile crept across her face as the realization sank in.
Professor Quirrell clapped his hands lightly, looking relieved.
"V-Very good, Miss Granger! A strong hit and excellent wand movement for a first attempt!"
Professor Quirrell adjusted his robes nervously and called out,
"M-Mr. Potter, you're next."
All eyes turned to Harry.
He stepped forward, feeling the weight of every gaze pressing down on him. His hand tightened slightly around his wand, but he forced himself to focus—just the target, nothing else.
The practice doll stood about ten feet away, swaying gently in the courtyard breeze.
Harry took a steady breath, pointed his wand firmly, and shouted:
"Expelliarmus!"
A sudden burst of red light shot from the tip of his wand, striking the practice doll squarely in the chest. The impact was strong enough to push the dummy backwards several feet, causing it to wobble dangerously before rocking back into place.
A ripple of impressed murmurs ran through the gathered students.
Professor Quirrell gave a small, shaky clap.
"V-Very good, Mr. Potter! Strong casting for a beginner. A bit more practice and it will be perfect!"
Harry allowed himself a small grin as he lowered his wand and walked back toward Ron, Hermione, and Delphi.
Ron gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
"Not bad for your first ever spell in front of a crowd, mate!"
Hermione beamed.
"You have good control for someone who hasn't had formal lessons yet!"
Delphi smiled quietly and said,
"Natural instinct. You stayed focused when it mattered most."
Professor Quirrell glanced up from his notes and called out,
"Mr. Weasley! You're next."
Before Ron could even move, Draco Malfoy leaned over to Crabbe and Goyle and muttered just loudly enough for others to hear:
"I bet he's going to fail."
A few students snickered.
Ron's ears turned pink, but he ignored the whispers, straightening his shoulders. He clutched his wand tightly, stepped forward, and faced the nearest practice doll.
He could feel his heart pounding, but he focused—just like Delphi and Harry had done.
Taking a quick breath, Ron pointed his wand firmly and shouted:
"Expelliarmus!"
A burst of red light shot from the tip of his wand, striking the practice doll solidly in the chest. The doll jerked backward on its stand, rocking but not falling.
There was a brief pause—then a few claps from the students who hadn't expected it.
Professor Quirrell gave a small, encouraging nod.
"T-That was a good hit, Mr. Weasley. Good focus and execution!"
Ron exhaled heavily and grinned, hurrying back toward Harry, Hermione, and Delphi.
Harry clapped him on the back.
"See? You're better at this than you thought!"
Hermione smiled proudly.
"That was brilliant, Ron!"
Even Delphi gave him an approving nod.
"You didn't let him get in your head," she said quietly, glancing at Draco in the distance.
Ron returned to the group, grinning from ear to ear.
"Yeah… it was just good luck," Ron said modestly, though the smile on his face showed how proud he really was.
Before anyone could reply, Professor Quirrell spoke up, his voice wobbling but a little sharper now.
"M-Miss Black Gaunt! You're next!"
The courtyard fell unusually quiet.
Delphi felt the weight of the stares settle onto her shoulders as she stepped forward, her wand gripped lightly but firmly in her hand.
Professor Quirrell shuffled closer, his nervous smile twisting oddly.
He leaned in, and she felt a strange cold breath brush the back of her neck as he whispered,
"I heard that… Bellatrix taught you when you were small."
Delphi stiffened slightly but kept her expression neutral.
"Yes," she answered calmly, though a chill ran down her spine.
"Good… good…" Quirrell muttered almost eagerly. "Can you show us… a spell? Perhaps… one she taught you herself?"
Delphi glanced at him, feeling a prickling instinct warning her. There was something… off about him. Too interested. Too eager.
Still, she nodded.
"Yes," Delphi said evenly.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, centering herself. She remembered the way Bellatrix had stood behind her as a child, gripping her tiny wrist, guiding the movement of her wand, teaching her not just the words but the emotion behind them.
A dark, elegant arc of the wrist—sharp but flowing.
The pronunciation—a whisper turned into a command.
She exhaled slowly, raised her wand, and said firmly:
"Mordus Ignis." Delphi exclaimed.
Immediately, a chain of red fire burst forth from the tip of her wand, lashing toward the practice dummy like a whip.
The chain cracked with a whiplike crackle, wrapping around the dummy's chest before fading into embers. The impact left a seared mark across the dummy's torso—violent but controlled.
Gasps rippled through the courtyard.
Even the enchanted dolls around the target seemed to shudder slightly under the residual heat.
Professor Quirrell's eyes gleamed strangely.
He clapped his hands, a little too enthusiastically.
"E-Excellent!! It looks like your mother taught you well, Miss Black Gaunt!"
Delphi lowered her wand carefully, feeling the stares of the other students pressing in on her.
She felt Quirrell's cold breath again, uncomfortably close.
At her side, hidden beneath her sleeve, Nyx stirred and muttered in a voice only Delphi could hear:
"Hello… this is kind of creepy." Nyx said.
Delphi gave the faintest nod, murmuring under her breath,"Yes, it really is."
She took a small step away from Quirrell, never breaking her composed expression.
Delphi moved quietly back toward the group, but even as she tried to blend in, she could feel it.
The stare.
When she turned her head slightly, she caught him—Professor Quirrell still watching her from across the courtyard.
His body stood stiff and awkward, but his eyes—hidden half under the shadow of his turban—were locked onto her, unwavering.
There was something wrong about it.
Something cold.
Something calculating.
She turned away quickly, pretending to adjust the strap of her satchel, but the sensation didn't leave her.
She could still feel his gaze, like icy fingers brushing the back of her neck.
Around her, the rest of the students continued practicing—shouting spells at the dummies, bursts of colorful light flashing across the courtyard. Some laughed when they missed; others groaned when their spells fizzled.
It should have felt normal.
It should have felt like just another class.
But to Delphi, the courtyard felt heavy. Oppressive.
And even though she focused on steadying her breathing, she couldn't shake the instinct gnawing at her gut.
He's still watching me.
Hidden beneath her robes, Nyx shifted restlessly along her arm, whispering in a voice too soft for anyone else to hear "Keep an eye on him. There's something wrong about that one."
Delphi said nothing, only giving the faintest nod in response.
She would stay alert.
The courtyard was filled with the fading buzz of spellfire, excited chatter, and scattered laughter.
Professor Quirrell clapped his hands together awkwardly, his voice carrying weakly across the courtyard.
"T-That was enough practice for today," he said, straightening the scrolls he carried under one arm.
The students began to lower their wands, some of them sighing with relief, others still practicing last-minute flicks and jabs.
Quirrell cleared his throat and continued"T-Tomorrow, we will learn a new spell, so… so be ready."
He gave a jerky nod, his turban slipping slightly before he quickly adjusted it.
"C-Class dismissed. E-Enjoy your dinner." Professor Quirrell said without another word, Professor Quirrell gathered his things and hurried off toward the castle, his robes flapping behind him.
The students began packing up, forming little clusters as they chatted about the spells they had managed to cast—or failed to cast.
But Delphi lingered a moment longer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched Quirrell disappear through the archway.
There was something deeply unsettling about him.
Ron POV
Ron was walking toward the Great Hall, his stomach already grumbling at the thought of dinner, when he heard someone calling out to him.
"Mr. Weasley! Come here!"
Ron turned and blinked in surprise.
Pushing a small cart full of wand boxes was Mr. Ollivander, the famous wandmaker himself.
Ron hurried over.
"Yes, sir?" he said, a bit confused.
Ollivander gave a small smile, his pale eyes gleaming with a familiar, strange light.
"Lady Black Gaunt has paid for my services to provide you with a new wand," Ollivander said, straightening a few boxes. "Why don't you choose one and see which fits you best?"
Ron stared at him, wide-eyed. "Wait… she was serious about that?" he said in disbelief, remembering Delphi's offer during Transfiguration class.
Ollivander simply nodded, patient as ever.
Ron looked over the cart, glancing at the boxes carefully. One in particular seemed to call out to him. He picked it up.
Ollivander opened it with a practiced flick.
"Willow wood, unicorn hair core, fourteen inches," Ollivander recited softly.
Ron hesitated only for a second before picking it up—and immediately, he felt it.
Warmth. Lightness. A perfect balance in his hand.
"Wow… it feels good," Ron said in amazement.
Ollivander smiled faintly.
"Good. The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Weasley—and yours seems quite happy with its choice."
He began re-arranging a few other boxes as he added:
"If you like, you can visit my shop during the holidays. I offer free tuning and maintenance to ensure it stays in top condition."
Ron scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"I… I don't think I'd be able to pay for that…"
Ollivander waved a hand dismissively.
"No need. Lady Black Gaunt already paid for seven years' worth of service for you."
Ron's mouth dropped open. "Seven years?!"
Ollivander nodded.
"Also," he said, as he adjusted another cart strap, "tell your younger sister, when her time comes to attend Hogwarts, she must come to my shop for her wand. It's been arranged."
Ron stared. "Don't tell me… she bought Ginny's wand too?"
Ollivander's eyes twinkled slightly.
"Yes. She's a kind girl… even if her family history is a deadly one."
Ron didn't know what to say.
Ollivander tilted his head slightly.
"Do you have any other questions?"
Ron shook his head quickly.
"No, sir. Thank you."
Ollivander smiled warmly.
"Good. Enjoy your new wand, Mr. Weasley."
He turned, pushing his cart smoothly down the corridor.
"Goodbye!" Ollivander called over his shoulder.
"Goodbye!" Ron called back, still holding his new wand tightly.
He stood there a moment longer, staring at it in amazement—then grinned and hurried into the Great Hall,
Delphi POV
The Great Hall buzzed with the usual chatter and clinking of cutlery as students dug into their dinner.
Delphi sat at the Gryffindor table, quietly eating her meal, her mind half-drifting elsewhere—until she noticed someone plopping down beside her.
It was Ron.
He held his new wand carefully in one hand, almost reverently.
"Delphi… thank you for buying the wand," Ron said earnestly.
Delphi smiled a little, setting her fork down.
"You don't need to thank me," she replied gently.
Ron shook his head stubbornly. "You didn't have to pay for my wand—or even my sister's. That's… a lot."
Delphi shrugged lightly, her expression soft.
"I have a lot of money because of my mother. I don't really waste it on myself. If I can use it to help a friend… I'm happy to."
Ron grinned, the tips of his ears turning pink.
"I promise I'll take care of this wand. And when Ginny comes to Hogwarts, I'll make sure she thanks you properly too," he said, giving the wand an experimental twirl.
Delphi nodded quietly, feeling a small, rare sense of warmth settle in her chest.
Just then, Harry and Hermione arrived, sliding into the seats across from them.
Harry immediately spotted the new wand.
"Sweet wand, Ron," he said with a grin.
Hermione leaned in, examining it with an approving nod.
"It looks like someone will finally be able to do magic without any problems," she teased lightly.
Ron chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.
"Yeah… I guess I don't have any more excuses. Maybe I'll actually study a bit more now," he said, grinning sheepishly.
Delphi laughed quietly along with them.
Two hours later
Grounds Outside the Castle
The cool breeze swept across the grassy field as the students gathered outside, their robes fluttering lightly.
Rows of old school brooms were lined up neatly on the ground.
Delphi, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood near the Gryffindor group, while the Slytherins and Ravenclaws gathered nearby.
A sharp whistle blew, and Madam Hooch—a stern woman with short gray hair and hawk-like yellow eyes—strode forward, hands behind her back.
"Welcome to my class!" she barked.
"Today, I'm going to teach you the basics of flying a broomstick." Madam Hooch said.
A ripple of excitement and nervous energy buzzed through the students.
"The first thing you'll do is pick up your broom," Madam Hooch said.
"Stand beside it, hold your right hand over it, and say 'Up!' loudly and clearly."
She demonstrated sharply, and her broom immediately flew into her hand.
"Now your turn!" Madam Hooch said.
The students quickly moved into position.
Madam Hooch stood watching, arms crossed.
Delphi took a deep breath, focused on the broom beside her, and said clearly "Up!"
The broom immediately leapt into her hand.
Madam Hooch gave a curt nod.
"Good job, Miss Black Gaunt."
Delphi glanced around and saw others trying as well, a mixture of excitement and frustration filling the air.
Beside her, Hermione furrowed her brow in concentration.
"Up!" Hermione called. Her broom jumped a little awkwardly into her hand, but she caught it, a determined smile on her face.
Further down the line, Harry stepped forward. "Up!"
The broom flew so quickly into his hand it made a loud smack against his palm. Harry grinned, surprised at how natural it felt.
Ron, a little more nervous, hesitated before commanding "Up!"
To his relief, the broom wobbled upward and landed neatly into his hand.
Madam Hooch walked along the rows, inspecting. "It looks like the Gryffindors are off to a strong start—twenty points to Gryffindor!" she announced.
Cheering broke out among the Gryffindor first-years.
Not far away, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and Luna Lovegood were also practicing.
Draco caught his broom quickly, smirking in smug satisfaction.
Pansy struggled a bit but managed after a second attempt.
Luna, dreamy-eyed, simply whispered "up" and smiled as the broom floated gently into her hand.
Neville was holding the broom when he sat down in the broom when he was relaxing when suddenly he quickly started to fly as he was having a hard time fly.
The excitement of the lesson turned to confusion when Neville Longbottom—still clutching his broom awkwardly—decided to mount it early, trying to relax as he had seen others do.
But the broom suddenly jerked upward before he was ready.
Neville let out a startled yelp as the broom shot into the air, wobbling dangerously.
"Neville! Calm down!" Madam Hooch screamed, running forward.
But it was too late.
Neville soared clumsily across the courtyard, crashing into low walls, bumping into stone arches, and weaving uncontrollably through the crowd of students.
Students ducked and scrambled out of the way, shouting in surprise.
Neville, eyes wide with terror, could barely hold on.
He was flying directly toward Delphi.
She saw him coming and instinctively jumped aside, rolling onto the grass just as Neville's broom screamed past, missing her by inches.
Neville's broom hurtled forward and smashed into the stone wall of the courtyard with a loud crack.
Neville tumbled to the ground, crying out in pain.
Madam Hooch sprinted toward him, kneeling at his side.
"Broken arm," she muttered grimly after a quick check.
She stood and addressed the rest of the class sharply:
"Stay on the ground! If I see anyone flying while I escort Mr. Longbottom to the infirmary, you'll all receive multiple detentions!"
Her yellow hawk-like eyes swept across the group.
Grumbling and whispering among themselves, the students obediently lowered their brooms.
Madam Hooch carefully helped Neville to his feet, supporting his injured arm, and together they made their way back into the castle.
The remaining students watched them go, the mood much heavier now than when the lesson had begun.
Delphi dusted herself off quietly, her heart still racing slightly from the close call.
The students stood around awkwardly after Madam Hooch disappeared with Neville, unsure of what to do next.
The tension was broken when Draco Malfoy sauntered toward the pile of items Neville had dropped during his wild flight—including a small, shimmering glass ball.
"Look at this," Draco sneered, picking it up and tossing it lightly into the air. "A Remembrall."
The tiny orb glittered in his hand, swirling with faint smoke inside.
Neville must have dropped it when he crashed.
Draco turned toward the rest of the students, smirking.
"I bet he needs this just to remember which foot to put in front of the other," Draco said loudly, causing some of the Slytherins to snicker.
Ron scowled. "Give it back, Malfoy."
"Why should I?" Draco said airily, tossing the Remembrall up and catching it again with a mocking grin.
"Finders keepers, Weasley. Besides, it might be safer with me. Poor Longbottom would probably smash it falling off his broom again."
Delphi narrowed her eyes slightly, but stayed silent, watching.
Harry stepped forward, his fists clenched at his sides.
"Give it here, Malfoy," he said firmly.
Draco's grin widened.
"Come and get it, Potter."
Without waiting, Draco mounted his broom—ignoring Madam Hooch's warning—and kicked off the ground, soaring into the air with practiced ease.
"Catch me if you can!" he shouted, waving the Remembrall above his head as he looped lazilhy in the air.
Delphi narrowed her eyes when she saw one of Draco's friends—a burly Slytherin boy—mount his broom and rise into the air to help Draco.
"Not happening," Delphi muttered under her breath.
Without hesitation, she swung her leg over her broom and kicked off the ground, soaring up into the air with ease.
The broom felt natural In her hands—steady, responsive.
She leaned forward, gaining speed, and quickly cut off Draco's friend, blocking his path with a sharp, clean move that made a few students below gasp.
Up ahead, Draco, seeing that his plan was falling apart, scowled.
He tossed the Remembrall lightly into the air, sneering:
"You can't do it, Potter!" he called, putting on an exaggerated, mocking voice.
Then, with a quick flick of his wrist, Draco threw the Remembrall as hard as he could, sending it soaring high and far across the courtyard.
Harry didn't hesitate.
He leaned low over his broom and shot forward like a bullet, his robes snapping behind him.
Students craned their necks, gasping as Harry gained altitude at incredible speed.
Delphi hovered nearby, keeping an eye on Draco's friend to make sure he didn't interfere again.
High above the courtyard, Harry stretched out his hand—and caught the Remembrall in midair, just before it would have smashed into the stone walls.
The courtyard erupted into cheers and amazed shouts as Harry and Delphi landed smoothly on the grass.
A few Gryffindors even clapped, and some Ravenclaws exchanged impressed looks.
Ron and Hermione rushed over, beaming.
"That was awesome!" Ron said, grinning widely.
"You two did a really good job out there," Hermione added, her voice full of admiration.
Before Delphi could reply, Luna Lovegood wandered over, her dreamy eyes wide with wonder.
"Wow… you two are very good at working together," Luna said serenely.
Delphi smiled faintly, feeling a rare warmth stir in her chest.
She opened her mouth to respond but before she could, the heavy doors to the castle swung open with a loud creak.
Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway, her expression sharp and unreadable.
"Black! Potter! Come with me," she said crisply, beckoning them with a firm wave.
A few students murmured nervously as Harry and Delphi exchanged a quick glance.
Without hesitation, they followed her back inside the castle.
They marched in silence through the stone hallways until McGonagall finally came to a halt outside a door they didn't recognize.
Without turning to look at them, she said "Wait here."
She slipped inside.
Harry fidgeted nervously, still clutching the Remembrall.
Delphi stood perfectly still, her face composed—but inside, her mind was racing.
A minute later, McGonagall reappeared—this time with a tall, broad-shouldered wizard wearing Quidditch gear.
It was Oliver Wood, Gryffindor's Quidditch captain.
McGonagall gestured to them both.
"Mr. Wood, I have found two… unexpected talents." Oliver Wood's face lit up with excitement.
"Two? Really?" he said eagerly, his Scottish accent thick with enthusiasm.
McGonagall gave the faintest hint of a smile.
"Potter showed incredible reflexes. Caught the Remembrall at a dive most seventh-years would hesitate to attempt. And Miss Black Gaunt…" — she glanced at Delphi — "…demonstrated quick thinking, tactical awareness, and excellent control under pressure."
Wood looked like Christmas had come early.
"Blimey! Two first-years? This is brilliant!"
McGonagall raised a hand to calm him.
"Under normal circumstances, first-years are not allowed on house teams. However…" she said, her tone measured, "exceptions have been made before. And after what I witnessed today, I see no reason not to make another."
She turned to Harry and Delphi.
"Potter, you will begin training as Gryffindor's new Seeker." McGonagall said.
Harry's jaw dropped open. "S-Seeker?" he stammered.
"Yes," McGonagall said crisply. "Your reflexes are perfect for it."
Then she looked at Delphi.
"Miss Black , I would like you to train with the team as well. Your control and quick judgment suggest you could make an excellent Chaser" McGonagall says
Delphi blinked, surprised.
She hadn't expected anything like this. "I… would be honored," she said quietly, inclining her head respectfully.
Oliver Wood was practically bouncing where he stood. "Two natural flyers! This is going to be the best year we've had in ages!"
McGonagall allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.
"Report to the Quidditch pitch tomorrow evening for your first practice. Wood will arrange the rest," McGonagall said firmly.
She fixed both of them with a sharp look.
"And no more reckless flying in the courtyard."
Harry and Delphi nodded as they jogged down the stone steps toward the courtyard, Delphi laughed, a rare burst of pure happiness.
"I can't believe we're on the Quidditch team!" Delphi said, practically bouncing with excitement.
"Let's go tell the others!" she added.
They raced outside, their robes flapping behind them.
"We're official Quidditch players!" Delphi announced excitedly as they spotted Ron, Hermione, and a few others gathering.
"I became the Seeker!" Harry grinned, slightly out of breath.
"And I'm a Chaser!" Delphi beamed.
Hermione gasped in surprise.
"Wait—so that means you two are the youngest Quidditch players?"
She shook her head in amazement.
"Normally, only twelve-year-olds and up are allowed to join!" Hermione said.
Delphi smiled a little shyly.
"Technically, I'm still ten. I'll turn eleven on Halloween."
Hermione's eyes widened even more. "Wait—they let you in early?"
"Yes," Delphi said, laughing lightly. "I was surprised too when I received my Hogwarts letter."
"That's incredible," Ron said. "First years never get to play! You two must be naturals."
"Tomorrow is our first practice," Delphi said, grinning.
As they chatted, Delphi noticed Astoria Greengrass standing nearby, looking a little uncertain.
She smiled and waved her over.
"Next period is free time," Delphi said. "Let's go to Snape's classroom and start potion practice."
Astoria nodded eagerly, her face lighting up.
"Yes! I'm going to do my best to learn!" Astoria said with determination.
Two hours later
Snape class
In the cool, dim light of the dungeons, the empty classroom smelled faintly of herbs, ash, and old stone.
Delphi stood at her workstation, her sleeves rolled up neatly as she organized the ingredients on the table.
A few moments later, Astoria Greengrass hurried in, her school bag slung over one shoulder. She stopped beside Delphi, a little out of breath.
"So, what are we doing?" Astoria asked, curious but nervous.
Delphi offered her a calm smile.
"We're making a Fire Protection Potion," Delphi said.
Astoria's eyes widened a little, but she nodded eagerly.
Delphi continued, explaining the plan carefully:
"First, we're going to make the potion together at the same time," she said. "You'll watch me closely and copy each step."
Astoria nodded seriously, listening intently.
"Then," Delphi added, "you'll make your own potion by yourself. I'll stay nearby, but I'll only watch to make sure you're doing it right without helping directly."
Astoria took a deep breath, determination settling over her face.
"Okay. I'll do my best," she said.
Delphi gestured toward the organized ingredients laid out in neat rows:
Salamander blood
Murtlap essence
Flobberworm mucus
Powdered scarab beetle shell
Fire seeds
Astoria studied them carefully, trying to memorize their colors and textures.
"These are the base components," Delphi said patiently. "Each one reacts differently with heat, so timing and stirring are everything."
She looked at her. "I'm going to teach you a similar as my mother " Delphi says when she nodded at her when she started dropping three drop of salamander.
Astoria nodded and carefully tilted the vial.
One drop… two… but the third splashed too much, and a large glob of blood plopped into the cauldron.
"Stop," she said firmly.
"Start again. Clean the cauldron properly before we continue."
Astoria's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she obeyed without complaint as she started to start again and clean the cauldron.
"let's tried again" Delphi says.
Ten minutes later
In the second attempt "Slowly stir clockwise three times, then counterclockwise once," Delphi instructed, demonstrating with elegant, practiced movements.
Astoria stirred too quickly, sloshing some potion over the side.
Delphi's eyes flicked to the spill.
"Again. A real potion master controls their hand, not just their wand," Delphi says
"okay I'm going to tried again" Astoria says.
Five hours later
The hours dragged on as they worked tirelessly. After twenty attempts, Astoria finally sank down onto a nearby bench, exhaustion written all over her face.
Delphi quietly opened a small jar of healing cream—the kind made for minor burns and potion mishaps—and began carefully applying it to Astoria's hands.
The cool potion spread across her skin, and with a soft shimmer of blue light, the small blisters and burns began to fade away.
Astoria bit her lip, looking ashamed.
"I'm sorry I failed," she whispered.
Delphi shook her head calmly.
"You don't need to apologize," she said.
She finished applying the cream, closed the jar, and sat down heavily on the edge of a desk.
"I'm just… not a very good teacher yet," Delphi admitted with a small sigh.
"Maybe you need a different kind of practice first." Delphi said.
Astoria looked up, hopeful.
Delphi thought for a moment, tapping her finger lightly against the desk. Then, her eyes lit up. "I have an idea," Delphi said, standing quickly.
Before Astoria could ask, Delphi grabbed her hand, tugging her up from the bench. "Come on we need permission first!"
Ten Minutes Later
Professor McGonagall's Office
Professor McGonagall looked up from her paperwork as Delphi and Astoria entered the room.
Adjusting her glasses, she said crisply,
"Miss Black Gaunt, Miss Greengrass. What can I do for you?"
Delphi stepped forward, straightening her robes.
"Professor McGonagall, we have a big favor to ask," she said politely.
McGonagall raised a curious eyebrow. "What kind of favor?"
Delphi glanced back at Astoria for encouragement, then explained "Astoria is having a hard time with Potions. Since I'm responsible for helping her improve under Professor Snape's… special arrangement" she added carefully,
"I thought of a new way to help her practice." Delphi said.
McGonagall folded her hands on the desk. "Yes, Professor Snape did mention his arrangement. Continue."
Delphi smiled slightly, trying to stay composed.
"Would it be possible for us to use the kitchens?" she asked.
"If Astoria practices baking measuring ingredients, mixing them carefully, following non-magical recipes it would help her learn the precision and patience she needs for Potions." Delphi said.
"Baking is very similar to potion-making, except it's safer… and we can eat the results," Delphi added with a small smile.
McGonagall considered this thoughtfully for a moment.
Finally, she nodded. "An unusual idea… but a very clever one. I'll inform the house-elves. Tomorrow after your last class, you'll be permitted to use the kitchens for supervised practice."
Delphi's face brightened. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall!"
Astoria echoed softly, "Thank you, Professor."
McGonagall gave a small approving nod. "You're welcome. I look forward to hearing how this… culinary experiment improves your brewing skills."
They both smiled and exited the office
As they walked back through the halls, Astoria slowed beside Delphi, her hands fidgeting with the strap of her bag.
After a moment, she looked up at her.
"Delphi… thank you for doing your best to help me," Astoria said softly.
Delphi blinked, then smiled warmly.
"You're welcome," she replied.
Without warning, Astoria quickly hugged her, squeezing tightly for a moment before pulling back, her cheeks a little pink.
"All those rumors I heard about you…" Astoria said, smiling shyly,
"…they were wrong. I'm happy to be your friend." Astoria said.
"Goodbye, Delphi!" Astoria said brightly as she started to head back toward the Slytherin dormitories.
"Goodbye," Delphi replied, her voice softer than usual.
She watched Astoria disappear down the hallway, feeling lighter somehow.
But the feeling didn't last long.
As she turned toward the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower, she felt it a heavy, cold stare drilling into her back.
Delphi stiffened slightly.
Slowly, she turned her head just enough to see.
Professor Quirrell.
He stood at the far end of the corridor, half-shrouded in shadow, his turban askew.
And he was staring at her.
His eyes—not nervous or twitchy like they were in class—but cold.
Still.
Dead.
Delphi's skin crawled.
She quickly looked away and hurried down the corridor, heart thudding in her chest.
She didn't stop until she reached the Gryffindor common room, breathless.
Inside, the fire crackled warmly and students lounged on chairs, laughing and studying.
But Delphi went straight to her bed, pulled the curtains halfway closed, and sat down heavily.
Nyx, sensing her unease, slithered up onto the bed and curled around her arm protectively.
Delphi stroked the snake's smooth scales gently, murmuring under her breath "Professor Quirrell… he's even creepier than I thought."
Nyx flicked his tongue out in agreement, settling against her for comfort.
Delphi leaned back against her pillow, staring up at the crimson canopy. "Maybe it's nothing," Delphi thought tiredly.
"Maybe I'm just nervous…" Delphi thought Delphi drifted into sleep, Nyx curled protectively by her side.
