And at that moment, I noticed that Eliza, the first-year girl, had stood up from her table. Along with her friends, she started hurrying toward Ryan, nervous but eager, as if they were about to greet a celebrity.
Ryan stopped immediately. His entire group did the same, including my cousin and the fourth-years.
From where I sat, I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I saw it. I saw it clearly. Ryan stopped speaking so eloquently. The arrogant smile faded. And in its place appeared another, gentler one.
He leaned down slightly to talk to Eliza, with a gesture you wouldn't expect from someone like him. Not a single trace of mockery. Not a hint of ego.
He spoke to her tenderly. And not only Eliza and her friends went still, several onlookers at other tables stopped to watch as well.
As if they were witnessing a scene that didn't fit the legend from the day before. The brilliant inventor. The smug Gryffindor. The charming provocateur.
Eliza laughed. Her friends did too. And just before leaving, she hugged him. He hugged her back. Without annoyance. Without stiffness.
It was Gideon who broke the moment. He said something to Ryan quietly, something that made Ryan raise his arms and blurt out an exaggerated line, clearly trying to laugh off the embarrassment.
Everyone laughed. And then they resumed walking, heading toward the Gryffindor table. They were met with cheers.
I felt a faint smile form on my face at the sight. Not for Ryan, whom I didn't even know beyond the rumors, but for the act of kindness without an agenda, and a little girl happy to have been defended.
But the smile vanished as soon as I heard a voice a few seats away from me.
"Pathetic," said Lucius, in that cold, superior tone he used when he wanted to poison without raising his voice.
He didn't speak loudly.
He didn't even seem to be addressing me. It was more like a comment tossed into the air, the way someone spits something that disgusts them.
"Excuse me?" I said, turning slightly toward him without raising my voice.
Lucius tore his gaze from the Gryffindor table and looked at me as if he'd just realized I existed.
"I said it's pathetic that they're treating him like a war hero just because he gave a ten-galleon quill to a student. A circus act, and everyone treats him like he's the Messiah."
"A circus act?" I asked, keeping my tone even, but letting the edge show.
"Don't tell me you're going to start defending Ollivander too," Rabastan chimed in, his smirk more mocking than cruel. "I thought you were more level-headed than that, Andromeda."
I looked at them. Both of them. With the calm of someone sharpening their words before throwing them.
"I'm not defending him," I said finally. "But you seem to be forgetting one small detail: Ollivander wiped the floor with Rosier and Mulciber in a two-on-one duel."
I paused briefly.
"So if it was a circus act… what does that make them? Untrained clowns? Sad opening acts in a duel they couldn't even control?"
My smile was faint. Almost polite. But dripping with mockery.
"Or maybe you're also forgetting what the trial was about. The first-year girl. The bullying. The broken quill. But of course, that doesn't fit the narrative when all you care about is points and prestige."
"Well, well," murmured Rodolphus. "Looks like Ollivander's not the only one who talks like he's on a stage."
"What's wrong?" I asked, turning my head slowly and meeting his eyes without fear, even though he was a sixth-year and a Lestrange. "Does it bother you that someone at this table says what everyone saw? Or is it because I bought one of his quills and now you assume I'm a fan?"
Silence.
Lucius frowned slightly.
"Yes," I continued with a half-smile, defiant. "I bought one. I was one of the first, actually. I knew he'd designed them. Unfortunately… I couldn't get my favorite color."
I brought my hand to my chin in an exaggeratedly thoughtful gesture, my expression both innocent and teasing.
"Perhaps I should order one now. Though he might charge me extra," I said, letting the sarcasm slide out smoothly, "thanks to idiots like Mulciber and Rosier who tarnish our reputation with their cowardly acts."
The faces around me were a poem.
Rodolphus pressed his lips together, as if trying to hold back a biting remark. Rabastan looked down at his plate. Lucius muttered something unintelligible, and Bellatrix… Bellatrix slowly turned her head toward me. Her eyes, dark as an abyss I knew all too well, locked onto mine.
"You're not going to buy anything from that arrogant brat," she said, not raising her voice, but using that cold, commanding tone she wielded when she wanted her will to sound like law. "Not after how he humiliated all of us in front of the school. It would be like begging."
I looked at her, still with my hand resting on my chin. Then I lowered my arm slowly, without breaking eye contact.
"And since when do you decide what I can or can't buy?"
"Since you're using money that isn't yours," Bellatrix snapped. "It's family money, Andromeda. You haven't earned a single knut. It's not yours. It's ours."
My smile faded for a second, then returned.
"Family money? Thanks for the reminder. But remember this, Bella: I didn't ask to be born. That money was given to me. Gifted. Do you know what that means? That once it's in my hands, I spend it however I damn well please."
I stood up.
Not a single hurried movement. Not a tremor. I made sure my robe wasn't wrinkled and that my prefect badge gleamed just enough.
"So yes. I'm going to order a new quill. Right now."
And I started walking.
The silence behind me was thick as fog. I could feel the stares piercing my back, like knives and unanswered questions.
Bellatrix didn't call after me. She didn't shout. But her fury was a living presence at my back.
I walked past students from other houses, who lowered their voices as I passed. Some recognized me. Others barely looked up. But I had only one destination.
The Gryffindor table, Ryan Ollivander. I saw him straight ahead, still talking and laughing with the Prewetts and the others.
My heart was beating fast. Too fast. I had never done something like this before. Never exposed myself this way.
Was it because of him? Because of what he did yesterday?
Or because ever since third year I had started to wake up… and yesterday's trial had only ignited what the summer had already fractured?
I don't know.
I stopped in front of the Gryffindor table, just a few steps away from him. The constant murmur of the Great Hall continued, but it was as if the air around us had grown heavier.
I took a deep breath. "Excuse me, do you have a moment?"
Ryan turned. The effect was immediate. The conversation died.
The Prewetts stopped laughing. Lily Evans tilted her head, attentive. Dorcas, Marlene, Emmeline, and Alicia exchanged surprised glances. Even Sirius, further back, raised his eyebrows in a mix of confusion and genuine astonishment.
Ryan looked at me as if someone had just changed the script without warning.
And yet, he reacted with his usual composure.
"Of course, Prefect Black," he said, in that elegant, slightly sarcastic tone of his. "How can I help you?"
"I'd like to order a quill," I replied, without looking away.
If I had cast an Imperius Curse on myself, the shock couldn't have been greater.
A murmur swept through the Great Hall like a wave. From the Slytherin table, the stares were daggers. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bellatrix rise slightly, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Narcissa's eyes were wide. Rabastan's jaw was tight. Lucius glared daggers at me.
Good reactions, I thought, turning my gaze back to Ryan, who, instead of smirking, smiled with genuine surprise, as if piecing something together… or at least that's what it felt like.
"Of course," he said, crossing his arms.
"My favorite color wasn't available when I bought the first one," I said, my voice firm but polite. "I was wondering if I could order a custom one."
"Of course. And I won't charge extra, if that's what you're worried about."
"With everything you said yesterday… I assumed your prices might vary depending on the client's house," I replied, half joking, half serious.
Ryan shook his head lightly. "Perhaps I was too harsh," he admitted. "Maybe my words made it sound like I was lumping everyone together. That wasn't my intention. Not everyone in your house is like Rosier and Mulciber."
I crossed my arms, not lowering my guard, but without hostility.
"I appreciate the clarification."
"And I know your reputation, Black," he added, lowering his voice slightly but keeping it clear. "I know you're fair. And I don't know it just from rumors. I know because we've shared plenty of classes over the years, and I've never seen a disdainful or arrogant gesture from you. Not everyone notices that. But I do."
My posture didn't change, but something inside me tightened.
Had he really watched me that closely…?
It wasn't impossible. We were the same year. We'd shared many classes. But I hadn't imagined he'd noticed me, with that level of precision.
"So then," he continued, "what color do you want? And what model? A standard eagle quill? Or one of the higher-end versions?"
"The regular one will be fine," I answered calmly.
But just as I was about to say the color, Ryan raised a hand with a faintly amused smile.
"Wait. Can I try to guess?"
I raised an eyebrow.
Seriously?
I thought for a second, then nodded. "Fine. Try to guess."
"Oh, I'm in!" said Sirius, grinning at me as if he'd just recruited another family member to join the rebellion.
I smiled, just barely, but it was a real smile. We'd always gotten along, even as children. He had that effortless way of breaking molds, of defying rules without seeming to break under them. Sometimes I envied him for it.
"Would you like to sit?" Ryan interjected, in his usual light tone. "It wouldn't be very gentlemanly of us to keep you standing while we seriously debate something as important as your favorite color."
I hesitated.
One second.
Two.
Each moment I spent here was another dagger in the pride of my house. Another silent declaration. Another crack in what was left of my relationship with them.
But I looked at the faces around him. No one looked at me with contempt. No one frowned. Not Dorcas, not the Prewetts, not Alicia, not even Marlene, his ex-girlfriend.
In fact, they looked at me as if they perfectly understood what I was doing, and respected it.
I looked at the empty bench. Thought about it again.
And then, with a calm movement, as if it didn't affect me at all, even though my heart was pounding harder than ever, I sat down.
"Well?" I said, resting my elbows on the table. "I'm waiting."
"I'd say… midnight blue," Ryan guessed.
And before I could shake my head, my cousin spoke. "Blue? Nah. She's more of an… olive green. Quiet, but intense."
"Neither," I said.
"Wine red? Something dark, refined?" Ryan asked, and I shook my head softly.
"Black? Like our family name?" said Sirius.
"No."
They tried several more colors until both gave up.
I settled comfortably, secretly enjoying the moment, and said with complete seriousness:
"Pink."
A brief silence fell around us. Several heads turned toward me, even from other parts of the table.
Even through his tinted glasses, I could tell Ryan was looking at me with a mix of disbelief and fascination. That expression of his amused me more than it should have.
"Seriously?" Ryan said, as if it were the last thing he'd ever have guessed.
"Of course not. I'm joking," I replied in a calm tone that didn't sound like a joke at all.
Ryan laughed, clearly caught off guard, his smile wider than before. "Very well acted, I must say."
I shrugged lightly.
"My favorite color is gray," I said at last. "Not silver, gray. Darker rather than light, but not as dark as ash."
"Perfect," he nodded. "Your quill will be ready tomorrow."
"Could you make the letters last six hours in the air? I'll pay whatever it costs."
Ryan nodded without hesitation. "Consider it done."
I nodded back, but didn't move. Something kept me there. Maybe the fact that, for the first time, sitting among Gryffindors felt more comfortable than sitting at my own table.
"Now that you know my favorite color," I said without thinking too much, "it's only fair I know yours."
Ryan looked at me as if he hadn't expected the question. The conversations around us quieted again, all ears. And I noticed it. Did that sound like…?
Too late. I'd already said it.
And Ryan, without losing his composure, answered:
"Gold."
"Gold? Why?" I asked, narrowing my eyes slightly, as if expecting a convincing justification.
Ryan pulled a Galleon from his pocket and spun it between his fingers.
"For this," he said, "and for my hair, of course."
The table burst into laughter.
"Greedy merchant!" shouted Gideon and Fabian between laughs.
"And egomaniac," said Emmeline, Marlene, and the rest of the girls.
"Visionary entrepreneur with healthy self-esteem," Ryan corrected.
I just smiled. Then I stood up calmly. "Thank you, everyone," I said with a polite nod, and turned to leave.
...
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