Hogwarts Express.
September 1st, 1970.
Just past eleven, the Hogwarts Express pulled away from King's Cross in a hiss of steam and smoke. Rain clung to the windows like a veil, blurring the world into streaks of gray and red brick as the countryside swallowed the city whole.
The compartment was quiet at first. Mizar sat near the window, long legs crossed and a book unopened on his lap. His trunk was precisely stowed. His robes hung crisp and untouched beside him. Across from him, Omar was halfway through a chocolate frog and trying to convince Andromeda that the new Head of Magical Law Enforcement had a secret goblin mistress.
"She works in Gringotts," Omar insisted. "And Ministry employees don't just let goblins 'misplace' their Galleons unless—"
"No one cares, Omar," Andromeda muttered, leafing through a Witch Weekly quiz titled What Does Your Animagus Form Say About Your Love Life?
Callista sat to Mizar's left, posture straight, hands folded neatly on a blank piece of parchment. it had taken some years but she finally cracked down and actually talked a lot around them. With others, she was still the same silent girl Mizar had met in their first year in the Scottish Highlands.
The door slid open a few minutes later.
And then she stepped in.
Magnolia Carstairs.
Scarf knotted loosely around her curls, wand-cane tapping once against the compartment floor before she caught herself and leaned her weight with a practiced ease. Her school robes were folded over one arm; her other hand gripped a tiny satchel of glass vials clinking softly against each other.
"Everywhere else is full," she said without looking at anyone. "And a second-year just asked if my leg could be regrown if I 'tried harder.' So unless one of you is about to give me a lecture on limb regeneration like I'm some sort of axolotl, I'm sitting here."
Mizar barely looked up. "There's room."
She raised an eyebrow at the spot directly beside him. "Really? With you?"
Andromeda snorted. "Come on, Carstairs. He's harmless."
"I'm not convinced."
"Then sit down and hex him later," Callista said, tone mild.
Magnolia took the seat beside Mizar anyway, shifting carefully into place, her wand-cane now balanced between her knees.
For a moment, no one said anything.
And then Mizar, lightly: "I should have a talk with Flitwick. They're letting anyone into Ravenclaw these days."
Magnolia, not missing a beat: "Didn't realize being a Slytherin gave you such a superiority complex."
Omar let out a low whistle. "And the train ride begins."
"What did you do during the holidays?" Andromeda asked, ever the poised daughter that she was.
"I went to Portugal," Magnolia said, tugging her scarf loose. "North first. Mama's sister lives there. Ended in Sintra. Ate a pear that made my mouth tingle for three hours and learned how to ward a vineyard using nothing but lavender and salt."
"You warded a vineyard?" Mizar echoed.
She looked sideways at him. "Why? Surprised Muggle-borns know how to do magic?"
"No. Surprised someone who still loses ten points a week for talking back to Flitwick can manage subtle spellwork."
She smiled, wide and sharp. "I don't lose points. I pay rent in defiance."
Mizar gave a low laugh, glancing out the window. "Still. Portugal's not bad."
She pulled out a dog-eared Muggle poetry book from her satchel.
He snatched it from her hands.
"Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer," he read as he opened up the book.
"Your Spanish pronunciation is terrible," Omar commented. "One would think that with you speaking Arabic, it would come more easily to you."
She didn't look up, but her voice softened slightly. "When my mums adopted me, they started buying Muggle books."
Magnolia considered the fact that she was in a compartment full of pureblood Slytherins but didn't take back what she said.
"You mean after being dropped off at St. Mungos," Mizar said.
That got her attention. Her eyes flicked up sharply.
"I do my research," he added, less smug than usual.
Magnolia's fingers tightened slightly around the page. "Right. Adopted, half-blood family, limp from birth. Dropped at the emergency ward in a storm with nothing but a note and a screaming fit that blew the ward doors open. You want my full St. Mungo's chart too?"
Mizar didn't blink. "No. I wanted to know who you were before you became the only person who who can keep up with me in class."
Her expression flickered—then settled into something unreadable. "You're losing your edge, Mizar. That almost sounded like a compliment."
He smiled, slow and careful. "Don't let it go to your head."
Magnolia untied her hair, brown curls covered her face like a frame. "What did you do in the summer?"
"Faiyum. Shafiq Estate." He said it without affectation, but it still sounded like legacy. "My uncle Marwan taught me how to bind thread wards over still water. And my cousin Fatima made me help her catch a runaway goose with an attitude problem."
Andromeda laughed. "Did you duel it?"
"I considered it."
"It won," Callista said dryly.
Magnolia twisted the tin open and shook something into her palm. It looked like sugared ginger root laced with silver powder.
Mizar glanced at it, then at her. "Still brewing your own pain blends?"
"They work better than potions," she said. "Also they don't taste like spoiled flobberworm."
"You could've just asked for the Elixir of Silent Serenity. It dulls pain without slowing spellcasting. I offered it last year."
"No. You mentioned it. That's not offering."
"I don't offer charity."
"I don't need it."
The words hit the air like clockwork. And yet—neither of them seemed angry. Not really. More like they were circling the same fire, carefully not getting burned.
"Did any of you do your summer reading?" Callista asked, she was hellbent on becoming an Unspeakable and although she might not be rival for Mizar and Magnolia, she was smart and more than anything, hardworking.
Mizar leaned back, resting one boot over his knee. "Done. Annotated. Rewritten, in the case of Spell Theory, Volume III."
"Of course," Magnolia said, sipping from her potion-tinged tea. "You would rewrite the textbook."
"Someone had to correct the section on resonance."
"And naturally, you think you're qualified."
"I am qualified," he replied. "Besides, you'll thank me when we hit next term and Bedeley's Law of Magical Repercussion doesn't make sense unless you already understand the corrections I made."
"I'd rather cast an echo charm blindfolded than read anything with your handwriting on it."
"I'd rather watch you try."
Omar groaned and laid his head back. "We're not even at Hogsmeade Station yet."
Callista smiled faintly. "They're worse than dueling hippogriffs."
Andromeda hummed. "No. Hippogriffs eventually respect each other."
Outside the window, the sky had started to break into clearer blue, the hills rolling steadily past.
Mizar leaned his head back slightly, gaze flicking to the girl beside him.
He hadn't expected her to sit with them.
Hadn't expected her to stay.
But she had.
And somehow, despite the barbed words and sharp edges, he didn't mind it.
"Rodolphus is officially courting Bellatrix now," Andromeda said, stretching her legs
There was a beat of silence, broken only by the clatter of the train.
"No surprise there," Omar muttered. "Two sharp smiles and a dungeon's worth of entitlement. Perfect match."
Andromeda gave him a look. "She's my sister."
"And he's a Lestrange," Mizar said mildly. "It's less a romance and more a business merger."
Magnolia glanced over at him. "Do all pureblood Slytherin families treat marriage like a Ministry contract?"
"Not all," Callista said, almost lazily. "But enough."
She adjusted her collar and added, "My father's a cousin to theirs. Lestrange by his mother. Technically, I'm second cousins with both Rodolphus and Rabastan."
Magnolia raised a brow. "Should I be worried?"
Callista didn't blink. "Not unless you plan to attend any Lestrange dinners. Or say the word Muggle-born too loudly."
Mizar's expression flickered, almost imperceptibly.
"I know what word they would rather use," Magnolia huffed loudly.
Aunt Calidora would have a fit if he saw Mizar interacting with someone like her. Fortunately, he didn't really care for the woman's approval.
"They're still pushing the marriage lines?" Omar asked, shaking his head. "It's 1970. Muggles are landing on the moon and purebloods are still playing musical chairs with their family trees."
"Please," Andromeda said dryly. "They'll stop when the inbreeding finally produces a set of twins with six heads and no magic."
Callista smirked. "Wouldn't be the worst batch of first-years we've had."
Mizar didn't laugh. He thought of Marius Black—his mum's Squib cousin. Not that she ever spoke of him. Nor did uncle Arcturus or uncle Regulus. It was Aunt Dorea when he asked about his churned name on the family tapestry while they were having tea and lemon biscuits. She said his grandfather Sirius II had exiled him after he came of age, he had grown up privately tutored and thrown into the Muggle world with his part of the inheritance to start a new life.
Magnolia glanced down at the vials in her satchel. "My mums would have a field day if someone tried to marry me off like that. Last time auntie Anna joked about it, Mama hexed the punch bowl."
That earned a quiet chuckle from Andromeda.
"Your family is better than mine," Andromeda said, sighing as she twirled her wand between her fingers. Then she caught Mizar's look. "Oh, don't look at me like that. You got sweet loving supportive Lycoris Black, I got Cygnus Nothing-You-Do-Shall-Ever-Be-Enough-To-Make-Me-Proud Black III."
Omar whistled, "and here I thought I was the one with a long name."
That earned him some chuckles from the group.
"You are," Callista said without looking up. "Omar Ehsan Ghaffari Fuentemayor. That's a scroll title, not a name."
"It's the name of a multicultural legacy," he said, mock solemn. "It weighs heavily."
Mizar leaned back in his seat, watching the group with a quiet kind of fondness. This wasn't how Slytherin was supposed to be, he thought—not what the Slytherins in his generation had been when he was Harry Potter. His friends weren't blindly loyal to their families, they weren't cruel. They laughed, they bit back, they teased, and sometimes—they chose better.
Beside him, Magnolia had gone quiet, her fingers toying with the copper clasp of one of the smaller vials. It shimmered faintly in the light.
"What's that one for?" he asked, just low enough for the others not to notice.
She didn't look at him. "Wolfsbane prototype. Non-toxic. Supposed to ease the transition instead of suppressing it."
He glanced at her, surprised. "You've been brewing for werewolves?"
Magnolia finally looked up. "No one else is going to. And if you repeat that, I'll hex your eyebrows off."
Mizar lifted a hand in surrender. "I admire it, actually. That's the sort of thing that gets banned in half the continent."
"That's why I'm doing it," she said, then added, "Also, most potions texts on lycanthropy were written by people who've never spoken to a werewolf, let alone helped one mid-transformation. It's shameful."
Callista, who had clearly been listening, added, "Not shameful. Predictable. Purebloods like control. Werewolves are messy."
Omar nodded. "And dangerous."
Mizar's gaze sharpened, but he kept his voice calm. "So we keep pretending they're monsters to be locked away, because it's easier than admitting they're just people?"
Magnolia's jaw tightened. "Exactly. And that kind of thinking poisons families. It's why many werewolves never get the help they need. Or worse—they get hunted."
Andromeda sighed, folding her hands in her lap. "Prejudice like that seeps in everywhere. Even Dumbledore doesn't seem to fully trust some of us."
Omar rolled his eyes. "The man distrusts all Slytherins. It's practically an institution at this point. He has it out for Mizar though. He acts like he's the new coming of Grindelwald."
Magnolia glanced at Mizar, something unspoken passing between them. "Careful, Mizar. People watch more than they let on."
He met her eyes, cool but aware. "I've been watched since before I could walk."
Callista, ever the pragmatist, broke in. "Well, the important thing is we keep moving forward. Whether it's breaking prejudices or perfecting spells."
"And maybe," Mizar added quietly, "finding allies in unexpected places."
The train lurched as it rounded a bend, the castle's silhouette rising ahead through the mist.
The compartment grew quieter, the clatter of the train on the tracks the only sound for a long moment. Then Callista broke the silence, voice low but sharp.
"Dumbledore's wariness isn't just about Slytherins. It's about power. And ambition. And those who don't fit neatly into his idea of 'good.'"
Andromeda nodded slowly. "True. But that means those of us who do walk our own paths have to be careful. The last thing we need is to give him a reason to tighten the leash."
Omar smirked. "Like Mizar here. The boy who rewrites textbooks and commands rooms," he appraised Magnolia, wrists full of silver bangles and bracelets. "Or the girl who brews forbidden potions. You two are practically begging for suspicion."
Mizar shot him a pointed look but said nothing.
Magnolia leaned forward slightly, her tone serious. "Dumbledore might be the headmaster, but he's not the law. If we want real change—real understanding—we have to make it happen ourselves. Not wait for him to decide we're worthy."
"Our family names don't get to define us," Mizar reminded them. "Or lack thereof. If our dear old Headmaster is too stubborn to see it then that's his problem."
Harry Potter would never believe he would be saying that about Albus Dumbledore—but Mizar Black-Shafiq knew better. He was not the boy raised for slaughter like a lamb no more.
Omar smirked, pulling a folded parchment from his robes. "Speaking of family drama, did you see the article in Witch Weekly about Jethro Greengrass?"
He grabbed Andromeda's copy to which she replied with a nudge of her elbow to his ribs.
Not a proper lady anymore.
Callista glanced over, curious. "No, what did it say?"
Omar grinned, unfolding the parchment with a flourish. "Apparently, Jethro's diplomatic mission in Sweden wrapped up weeks ago—but instead of coming back, he decided to stay there. Married some Muggle girl on the sly."
Callista's eyes narrowed. "Married a Muggle? That's practically scandalous for a Greengrass."
Mizar let out a low whistle. "And Lady Greengrass hasn't said a word? That's… unusual."
Callista shook her head. "She's probably pretending it never happened. Greengrass benevolence doesn't extend to Muggle marriages."
Magnolia raised an eyebrow. "Must be an awkward family dinner tonight."
"Besides the Greengrass scandal, there's gossip about the new Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Rumour is, he's got a goblin mistress working in Gringotts."
"Not again!" Andromeda chastised him.
The Hogwarts Express slowed to a stop, its brakes hissing as the whistle blew through the misty morning air. The castle loomed ahead, its spires shrouded in a soft haze. The compartment door slid open, and a rush of cool, damp air spilled in.
Mizar stood first, grabbing his trunk with a practiced grip and levitated the girls' trunks.
Omar stretched and muttered, "Finally. I need fresh air that isn't scented with old parchment and potion residue."
Callista gathered her things, eyes bright. "Come on, let's get to the carriages before the crowds."
The group spilled out onto the platform, the buzz of returning students filling the space. They moved steadily towards the carriages waiting in a neat line, pulled by strange, skeletal horses. None of them could see the Thestrals, though they'd heard enough stories to know exactly what they were.
Magnolia paused, looking up at the quiet, ghostly beasts. "You know, it's strange. They say you have to witness death to see them, but I've always thought it's more like… they choose who they show themselves to."
Mizar snorted. "Yeah, maybe they just don't like you."
Magnolia shot him a look. "Funny. I was about to say the same."
"Watch this," she raised her wand with a flick, casual and practiced, already halfway into the motion that would levitate her smoothly into the carriage.
But before the spell took hold, a firm arm slipped behind her knees and another at her back, and she found herself suddenly airborne.
"Mizar—what—"
"Don't cast," he said simply, lifting her into his arms.
"I can do it," she snapped, caught between indignation and disbelief.
"I know," he replied evenly. "I just didn't feel like watching you do all the work."
"That's not how magic works."
"It is when I say it is."
She huffed, crossing her arms even while he carried her easily to the open carriage. "You're ridiculous. This is ridiculous."
"You're the one who insists on performing in front of an invisible horse every September."
"I enjoy the spell," she said. "It's a smooth ascent, it's elegant, it doesn't jostle my joints."
"You're still talking, and I'm still carrying you."
He ducked inside with practiced grace and set her down gently on the seat, not even winded. Magnolia scowled at him.
"I'm not delicate."
"I never said you were."
"Then why act like I'm about to collapse if I step wrong?"
Mizar smirked. "I didn't say that either. I just enjoy watching you get this flustered."
She narrowed her eyes. "I hate you."
"Deeply."
"You're lucky I didn't cast something midair."
"You're lucky I didn't drop you when you started ranting."
Callista shook her head with a smirk. "Only you two could turn a simple carriage ride into a duel."
Magnolia sighed, catching her breath. "I guess some things are just easier without magic."
Mizar leaned back, folding his arms. "Or maybe it's better to have someone else hold the reins once in a while."
Magnolia elbowed him sharply. "You're insufferable."
"Am I?" Mizar challenged, his grin widening.
Magnolia narrowed her eyes. "If I hexed you right now, would it ruin the aesthetic of the carriage ride?"
"Probably," Mizar said smoothly. "But it'd also prove I'm living rent-free in that head of yours."
"Oh, please." She turned to the window with exaggerated calm. "You couldn't rent space in my cauldron cupboard."
The carriage jerked into motion, wheels creaking softly as they began their slow glide up the path towards the castle. The mist had thickened again, curling around the lanterns and softening the outlines of the trees.
"They are a little creepy, aren't they?" Omar said, squinting at the Thestrals he couldn't see. "Even when they're invisible, it's like they know something you don't."
"They do," Magnolia said quietly, more thoughtful now. "They're always listening. Just because you can't see something doesn't mean it's not watching."
Mizar looked at her sidelong. "Poetic. Slightly paranoid. Very on brand."
"Better paranoid than oblivious," she retorted.
Omar stretched his legs across the floor, bumping Callista's boots. "So… bets on who cries first during the Welcoming Feast?"
"No one," Callista said without looking up. "But I'll bet five Sickles someone tries to spike the pumpkin juice."
Magnolia smirked. "Ten on it being the Prewett twins. Again."
Omar laughed. "And here I thought this year might start off quiet."
"You've clearly learned nothing," said Magnolia.
The castle came into view at last, lanterns glowing like stars in the haze. The carriages rolled forward steadily, the soft sound of hooves—unseen—on wet stone echoing through the mist.
The students of Hogwarts poured out in a blur of black robes and excited chatter, boots splashing into shallow puddles and trunks levitating just overhead.
Mizar stepped down first, extending a hand for Magnolia before she could even reach for her wand. She gave him a look—half challenge, half suspicion.
He hooked one arm under her knees, the other around her shoulders, and lifted her straight out of the carriage as easily as he carried her to the carriage.
"I could've managed," she muttered, clutching the edge of the door.
"You were about to levitate straight into the wrong side of the step," he replied calmly.
"I was adjusting my balance."
"You were about to faceplant."
"And you're an insufferable show-off," she snapped, but allowed him to help her down anyway. Her limp was more pronounced after the ride, and she hated that he could probably tell—but she didn't say anything.
Their friends followed in a loose circle behind, he was still absentmindedly levitating the girls' trunk with crisp precision, Omar carrying his instead in a stupid macho display.
The easy atmosphere cracked the moment they turned towards the castle steps and passed a group of Slytherins leaning against the old stone arch: Mulciber, Avery, Jugson, brutish Goyle and Crabbe with Lucius Malfoy and Selwyn trailing behind them as the youngest of the ensemble.
Mulciber straightened at the sight of them, eyes sweeping from Mizar to Magnolia, pausing with the subtle sneer of someone who had opinions and no manners.
"Well," he said, loud enough to be heard, "if it isn't our prince and his little band of strays."
Lucius said nothing, but the smug angle of his chin was enough.
Mizar didn't flinch. His posture didn't shift. But the air around him seemed to cool a degree.
"Careful, Mulciber," he said softly. "You're starting to sound jealous."
Nonetheless he continued, "didn't think you would entertain a cripple."
Magnolia didn't flinch. But her grip tightened around her cane-wand.
Callista came to a full stop. "Oh, how original. Still failing to evolve past the intelligence of a Bludger, I see."
"Callista," Selwyn said with mock disappointment, "your father must be so proud. Imagine—cousin to the Lestranges, spending her time with a Mudblood."
Omar raised his eyebrows. "Jealous, Selwyn? You can sit with us if you ask nicely."
Jugson snorted. "You lot think you're clever now, but when the time comes—"
Mizar stepped in front of them like he was cutting wind. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to.
"Is this the part where you pretend you're relevant, or the part where you remember who I am and walk away?"
Lucius stiffened. His gaze flicked to Mizar and then to the others, silent as ever. He said nothing, as usual—too smart to open his mouth when Mizar Black-Shafiq was present.
"I hear Rodolphus is going to marry your precious sister soon, Andromeda. Maybe it's time you learned to behave before you embarrass the family," Avery raised his voice.
Andromeda didn't blink. "If marrying that buffoon is supposed to be a prize, you can keep it."
"And here I thought the Blacks were supposed to be proud," Jugson muttered. "You'd think you lot would know better than to parade around with her—" he nodded towards Magnolia "—like it's some kind of statement."
"She's standing right here," Magnolia said, voice even. "Not deaf. Just a bad hip."
"Same thing, isn't it?" Selwyn chimed in, grin sharp. "You need two legs and pure blood to stand in our world, not pity and politics."
"It's my hip, not the leg," the curly haired brunette corrected him.
Mizar stepped forward, slow and deliberate. "I'll give you a head start. Take it now, or take it with Madam Pomfrey."
Mulciber's grin faltered, but only for a breath. He scoffed and turned sharply on his heel, brushing past with an exaggerated flourish of his cloak.
Avery sneered but followed Mulciber and stepped back. "Enjoy your little charity project, Mizar. Maybe they'll put your name on a plaque. 'He tried his best.'"
Only once the archway was behind them did Magnolia exhale. "I should've hexed him."
"I was kind of hoping you would," Callista said. "You've been brewing some very creative things lately."
"Don't tempt me."
They moved towards the Entrance Hall, boots echoing off stone, robes heavy with damp.
"I'm fine, by the way," Magnolia added, lifting her chin as they walked.
"I know," Mizar said without looking at her. "That's never been in question."
She rolled her eyes and nudged his arm with hers. "But thanks. Even if you are the world's most insufferable knight."
He smirked. "I'll add that to my crest. Two crossed canes and a sarcastic motto."
"I'd pay to see you wear it."
"I'd pay to never take it off."
Omar groaned behind them. "Please stop. My appetite is going to turn itself to stone."
Andromeda looked back at the castle doors, then ahead towards the Great Hall, where flickering candlelight shone through the cracks.
"This year's going to be different," she said quietly.
Mizar gave a short nod. "It already is."
The First Wizarding War had already started.