🔞 18+ ONLY. MDNI. 🔞
Yeah, this is your warning label. This blog deals with mature themes, spicy content, and LOTS of course language. If you’re under 18 — kindly yeet yourself away.
Welcome Post 🥰🥰
Who the hell am I? 🤔
OC Profile: Elysia Ashcombe
OC Profile: Calum Trenwith
Give Me Love - HL fanfic
At seventeen, Elysia Ashcombe enters Hogwarts for the first time, determined to master a magic she’s only just discovered. But the past never forgets, and neither does the darkness waiting for her.
Prologue
Chapter 1: The Road (in the Air?) to a New Life
Chapter 2: The Monster Wasn’t Under the Bed (Flashback)
Chapter 3: Please Keep All Limbs Inside the Cart (and Bring an Umbrella)
Premise of Chapter: With her supplies mostly sorted and her first day behind her, Elysia should finally be able to breathe. But at Hogwarts, nothing stays private for long. With new friendships deepening and the rumour mill in full swing, the Great Hall becomes its own kind of battleground. Teasing, loyalty, jealousy, romance, the sort of attention that makes her skin crawl… and so much laughter you may need a napkin for the pumpkin juice.
✏️ Word Count: 4.4 K
⚠️ Warnings: Mild embarrassment in front of peers, unwanted flirting/mild sexual harassment vibes, gossip/teasing, brief crude humour/coarse language
💌 Reblogs, comments, and wild theories are always welcome to a lonely writer such as moi — they’re the magic that keeps this story alive. Every time you share a thought, you’re not just a reader, you’re part of the magic (and you might just guess something I haven’t revealed yet). ✨
📚 Masterlist | ⬅️ Prior Chapter | ➡️ Next Chapter
════════ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ════════
Elysia emerged from Professor Weasley’s office with her arms full and her thoughts buzzing. The Deputy Headmistress had commended her for surviving her first day and offered what reassurance she could to ease the minor anxieties still pressing on her mind. An owl had already been dispatched to the Ministry to have her student bursary renewed, since all her belongings had been lost before term began (courtesy of one out-of-control dragon). In the meantime, as Professor Weasley had explained the night before, the Hufflepuff prefects had scraped together a serviceable satchel from the House stores that had a small Hufflepuff emblem shining on the front, and a handful of worn textbooks long abandoned by their former owners. Their pages were softened with years of handling, margins crowded with scrawls in a dozen different hands.
It meant she would not need to rush to Hogsmeade this week. With the bare necessities provided, she could leave the trip until the weekend and perhaps even go with her friends. Failing that, she considered sneaking down on Wednesday morning during her spare period… though she would first have to endure her Ministry check-in with Professor Fig and Clara Thorne. But she’d think of that later.
In any case, she had thanked the Deputy Headmistress warmly, packed what she could into the satchel, and hugged the rest to her chest. She crossed the Transfiguration Courtyard with the intention of dropping everything in the common room before dashing to the Great Hall for supper. The thought of seeing Natty and Poppy again put a smile on her face despite the weight of her load.
She was still smiling, lost in her thoughts, when the world went abruptly sideways. A blur of yellow-trimmed robes and a dark bob struck her from behind, arms clamping round her shoulders as a voice shrieked with unrestrained delight, “Elysia—bloody—Ashcombe!”
Elysia’s books went skidding across the flagstones as she staggered under the impact. Giggling despite herself, she recognized the culprit at once as Poppy Sweeting, who spun her round to face her, eyes shining, cheeks flushed from the run.
“How in Merlin’s name do you exist? You’re like something out of a tale, you absolute devil!”
“Poppy, honestly I—”
“You toppled Sallow in front of the entire class? The Sebastian Sallow?! Are you joking? You’re mad!”
Elysia giggled, though her cheeks burned pink. “Blimey, Poppy, keep it down. The whole courtyard’s staring. It was just a duel.” She bent quickly to gather one of the books she’d dropped, but Poppy was already snatching it up for her, eyes alight.
“Just a duel?! Ely, do you realize what you’ve done? Natty and I heard about this all the way from the other side of the castle. Sallow’s been undefeated since third year. He’s the best duellist our age and you beat him on your first day!”
“Undefeated?” Elysia echoed, trying for disbelief, though her blush only deepened. “I hardly think it counts. He wasn’t even trying. He must’ve been going easy on me—”
“Oh no, do not start that. I assure you, Sebastian Sallow has never in his life gone easy on anybody,” Poppy cut in, grinning with wicked satisfaction. “The whole school’s buzzing! They say the duel went on longer than any of the others in the whole class. Someone swears you actually caught his wand right out of the air when you disarmed him. And then—” she seized Elysia’s arm with renewed vigour, balancing a stack of books in the other as they headed toward the Hufflepuff common room, “—then you blasted him clean off the platform whilst holding both wands! And to crown it all, you curtsied at him? It’s gone round every House already. You’ve made a legend of yourself. Oh, if only I were a Legilimens—I’d pay my last Galleon to reach right into your mind and see the exact look on his face in that moment. You must tell me how you’ve grown so good at duelling! It makes no sense. There’s no chance that was your first duel.”
Elysia pressed her lips together, torn between laughter and mortification. “Honestly, it was. Professor Fig taught me a few basics, and I think he let me win half the time.”
“Basics? Hah! Sure, whatever you say, Ely. But don’t think for a second I’m not going to be dragging Natty into this.” Poppy declared, triumphant. “And as for Sallow, he needed humbling, and you’ve done what no one else could. A true service to the school. I can already see the headline on tomorrow’s Prophet: ‘New Fifth-Year Humiliates Undefeated Slytherin.’”
They both collapsed into giggles at that. Poppy shifted the stack of books in her arms, her hand still looped through Elysia’s as they continued down the corridors.
Elysia shot her a sly glance, then bumped her shoulder against Poppy’s with deliberate mischief. “If I didn’t know any better,” she murmured, lowering her voice like a conspirator, “I’d say you’ve a soft spot for him.” She lifted her brows twice in an exaggerated waggle.
Poppy nearly tripped over her own feet. “What?!” Her face went pink to the tips of her ears. “No! He’s completely insufferable most of the time.”
“Oh really, Sweeting?” Elysia prodded, grinning. “Because the way you talk about him…”
“Oh please!” Poppy huffed, shaking her head. “Sebastian’s not remotely my type.”
Elysia gasped, delighted, drawing the word out like a song. “Ooooh, so you do have a type, then…and it isn’t Sallow. Which means there is someone! Poppy Sweeting, there’s someone you liiiike.”
Poppy’s blush deepened until it rivalled the crimson trim of the Gryffindor banners. “Absolutely not!” she blurted, yanking her arm free of Elysia’s grip. “There isn’t anyone. And if there was, it certainly would never be Sallow.” She stalked ahead a few steps, clutching the books to her chest like a shield.
Elysia let out a scandalized laugh and hurried after her, slipping back into step with a grin. “Oh, come on, you can’t escape that easily. Who is it, then? Tell me. Is it that blonde fellow who’s always glued to his side?”
Poppy’s grip tightened on her books, knuckles whitening as even more colour flooded her face. “Merlin’s sake, Ely, no! He’s a Slytherin and he—he’s a Gaunt. Well…Oh, I guess you wouldn’t know but, people say things about his family… things I’d rather not get mixed up in.”
Elysia blinked, none the wiser. (What on earth is that supposed to mean?) No matter, she’d find out later. For now, Elysia seized upon the slip with glee. “Aha! So it isn’t a Slytherin!” she crowed, waggling her brows again.
Poppy flushed brighter, if it was even possible. “I didn’t mean—oh, Ely, you’re twisting my words—”
“You said it yourself, Pops,” Elysia cut her off gleefully. “Not a Slytherin. That narrows it down splendidly.” She leaned in, eyes shining with mischief. “So then… Ravenclaw? A dreamy intellectual?” She barely gave Poppy a chance to protest before carrying on. “Or maybe a fellow Hufflepuff? And how very convenient, Pops. No sneaking across the castle for late-night escapades when you’re both tucked away in the same common room.” She took in a sharp inhale, clasping her hands theatrically. “Or perhaps… a Gryffindor? Bold and reckless! Sweeping you into some daring escapade, kissing you right under the lion banners with the whole school watching?”
Poppy faltered mid-stride, lips pressing tight.
“Ohhh,” Elysia gasped, pointing a finger right at Poppy. “That look says it all. It’s someone from Gryffindor!”
“Shhhh! Keep your voice down!” Poppy sputtered, “That proves nothing!”
“It proves everything,” Elysia sang triumphantly, nearly dancing as they walked. “You should see your face, Pops. You’re absolutely smitten! A Gryffindor beau! How utterly scandalous.” She bumped Poppy’s shoulder again, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come now, tell me who before I start guessing names aloud in the middle of supper.”
Poppy gasped, “You wouldn’t dare!”
Elysia’s grin widened, “I dare you test it.”
“Oh, come off it,” Poppy shot back. “You’ve been here all of one day. You barely know anyone’s names, let alone who I might fancy.”
That gave Elysia the briefest pause. Poppy had a point, but her mischief refused to be snuffed out. She tapped her chin in mock-thought, sifting through the handful of faces she’d managed to clock in her classes. Mostly surnames, a few snippets. One or two had stuck, if only because the professors had barked them across the room.
“Hmm,” she hummed theatrically. “All right then… someone with red hair, perhaps?”
The way Poppy fumbled and spluttered said far more than words ever could. Elysia let out a delighted squeak and laughed. “Merlin’s beard, Pops, you’re hopeless at hiding it! Is it that one guy…oh bugger, what was it…uh—Prewett?”
Poppy pulled a face. “Leander?! Godric’s heart, no. I’d sooner curse myself bald. He’s a complete creep.”
Elysia snorted, nodding fervently. “Thank heavens, Pops. If you’d said yes, I’d have had to question my sanity for choosing to be your friend. Haven’t even exchanged so much as a greeting with him, and I could feel something off just by the way he looks at people.”
Poppy let out a laugh and gave Elysia a featherlight smack on the elbow, more fond than reproachful. The two of them dissolved into laughter, their giggles bouncing off the stone.
Elysia tried to smother her grin. “All right then, not Prewett… but what about…” She faltered, mind flicking back to the duelling ring in Defence Against the Dark Arts. There’d been another redhead, loud and cocky, quick with his wand…what was his name again? She opened her mouth, still fumbling for it—
“If you don’t drop it,” Poppy interrupted, eyes sparkling though her tone was mock-severe, “I’ll hex your lips together before supper.”
Elysia threw her hands up in exaggerated surrender, laughter bubbling in her chest. “All right, all right, I yield, for now.” She leaned in again, voice dropping to a mischievous murmur. “But try as you may to hide, Sweeting, it will not matter. I’ll still get to the bottom of this. Mark my words.”
That set them both off again, helpless giggles tumbling between them as they made their way toward the warmth of the Hufflepuff common room, conspirators bound by a shared secret.
* * *
Elysia and Poppy ducked into the Hufflepuff common room just long enough to drop off the supplies Professor Weasley had provided. Freed of the weight, they quickly made their way back through the corridors, following the mouthwatering smell of roast beef and fresh bread toward the Great Hall. By the time they stepped inside, the long tables were buzzing with chatter, plates already heaped with food. Poppy nudged Elysia toward the Hufflepuff table, but before they could sit, a familiar voice called out.
“Elysia! Poppy!” Natty waved them over, already sliding along the Gryffindor bench to make room.
Elysia hesitated only a moment before slipping in beside her, Poppy settling between them. It felt a little daring… She had half-expected the house tables to be enforced with strict formality, especially under a Headmaster who seemed so obsessed with appearances. But Natty caught her glance and smiled knowingly.
“Do not worry,” she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “The Sorting Ceremony and other formal occasions are the only times they expect us to sit properly. After that, you may sit with whichever friends you like. It is a common custom to stay with your house, yes. But it is no law.”
Elysia grinned at the notion, feeling oddly relieved. “Good. I’d hate to think I had to keep my distance from you two just because of where some tattered old hat decided to plonk me.”
That sent the girls into a fit of chuckles before they began piling their plates high with the endless dishes prepared by the house-elves, trading stories from the parts of the day the others had missed. As expected, their chatter circled back again and again to Poppy’s ‘super secret’ Gryffindor crush. Natty was convinced she already knew who it was—“you two have been painfully obvious since my first day at Hogwarts,” she’d teased—and, of course, to the duel between Elysia and Sebastian.
Throughout the meal, students from every table drifted by now and then with grins and compliments. Each remark sent a flicker of warmth through her chest… though part of her still wasn’t sure whether she’d earned it or just amused them. At some point, Elysia dared a glance toward the Slytherin table, hoping to catch sight of that smirking brunette to see what he was up to. She had barely managed to scan the faces before being distracted by something much more interesting as Natty’s arm shot across the bench to steal a bread roll from Poppy’s plate.
A high-pitched squeal came from Poppy, who scolded her to fetch her own. Natty only grinned, cheeks full, utterly unrepentant. Absolutely beaming at the scene, Elysia seized the chance while Poppy’s head was turned and snatched the remaining roll and sank her teeth into it with a grin. Poppy whipped round to shriek in outrage as both she and Natty chewed noisily, groaning and moaning in exaggerated delight, then dissolving into helpless laughter until the poor Hufflepuff dropped her head into her hands.
“Here,” a voice broke in from further down the table.
All three girls stopped and looked up together, Elysia and Natty still with their cheeks puffed and mouths full of bread.
Elysia recognized him. It was the other red-haired Gryffindor boy from Defence Against the Dark Arts. His surname had escaped her earlier, but seeing his face jogged the memory: Weasley. He was leaning across with a roll held out from his own plate. Never mind the dozens still piled high along the table!
“This one’s the best of the lot. Picked it out myself,” he said with a playful grin, pushing it toward Poppy. “You ought to have it.”
Poppy’s eyes widened and she flapped her hands in tiny, embarrassed shakes. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—there are plenty more—”
“I insist,” he cut in, lifting the roll a little higher for emphasis. “Look, it’s got the best colour of all of them.”
Poppy’s cheeks went scarlet as she accepted it at last, murmuring, “Th-thank you, Garreth…”
His grin widened, bright and boyish, though the tips of his ears betrayed him with their flush. “Any time,” he said lightly, before dropping back into his seat as though nothing at all had happened.
Elysia caught the way Poppy ducked her head over the roll, hiding her dazed smile, and clutching it with both hands like it was some priceless treasure. She immediately shot Natty a look, mouthing a triumphant, I see what you meant.
Natty rolled her eyes and mouthed back, I have endured an entire year of this.
Poppy swatted both their thighs beneath the bench and hissed, “I can clearly hear you two.”
Natty reached for her drink and muttered from behind the rim of her goblet, just loud enough for them both to catch it, “Subtle as a Bludger,” her lips twitching with amusement.
Elysia snorted, earning herself another swat from Poppy. And before she knew it, Elysia was tipping forward over the table to address the redhead directly, curiosity piqued.
Poppy’s horrified whisper followed in a rush. “No! Ely! What’re you doing?”
Too late.
“Weasley, isn’t it? I saw you in Defence class earlier.” Elysia tilted her head, a spark of mischief in her eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Professor Weasley, would you?”
The boy looked up from his plate with an easy grin that lit his whole face. “That’s right. Garreth Weasley. Aunt Matilda does her best to keep me honest—well, she tries. Merlin’s balls, she’s forever watching me as though I were still a first year. Tends to keep a little too close an eye for my liking, but she means well enough.”
Garreth leaned in, extending his hand across the platters as he added boisterously, “And you’re Ashcombe, aren’t you? Hero of the hour, vanquisher of Slytherins. You may wear Hufflepuff colours, but don’t think that spares you. I’m claiming you for Gryffindor tonight! Our common room shall be toasting your name till dawn for knocking Sebastian down. That was our victory as much as yours.”
Elysia clasped his hand, laughing outright at his theatrics. “You’re absurd,” she said, amusement bright in her tone. “Just Elysia, please. And I can’t take all the glory. You were rather impressive yourself against that other Slytherin.” She nudged Poppy with pointed exaggeration, delighted with herself. “In fact, I was only just telling Poppy here so. She tells me you’re quite the duellist. The best, in fact, Gryffindor’s ever seen, according to her.”
Poppy froze, eyes wide, colour flaring in her cheeks even more. Elysia could’ve sworn she saw steam rising from the poor girl’s head. Across the table, Garreth caught the sight, his grin faltering into something softer before he ducked his head with a low laugh, hand rubbing the back of his neck.
“Oh…she did? Really?” His smile tugged wider despite his attempt at nonchalance, a spark of triumph lighting his eyes.
“I… I didn’t—well, I suppose—” Poppy stammered, words collapsing into nonsense.
“Really! She will not stop going on about it. She’s incredibly upset she’s not in Hecat’s class with us,” Elysia cut in smoothly, wicked grin in place. She turned to Natty. “Isn’t that right?”
“Mmm-hmm,” Natty agreed through a mouthful of roast beef, nodding as though it were the plainest truth in the world.
Garreth’s ears pinked again, but his grin only broadened, easy and unbothered. “Well, Poppy flatters me. Truth be told, duelling isn’t my crown jewel. My real gift’s in potions. Professor Sharp says I take too many risks, doesn’t much appreciate my ‘creativity.’ But I say it’s only a matter of time before they’re calling me the greatest potioneer of the age.” He beamed, chest puffed, relishing the boast. “Just you wait, one of these days you’ll see my brilliant brews on every professor’s desk. My talents are utterly wasted on the standard recipes.”
Before Elysia could marvel aloud, Natty set down her goblet with a decisive clink. Her dark eyes flashed with barely contained irritation. “Do not believe a word of it, Elysia. If Garreth Weasley ever offers you one of his ‘brilliant’ brews, you must turn and run in the opposite direction. Everyone at Hogwarts knows this.”
Poppy burst into helpless giggles, half hiding her face behind the roll he’d given her, while Garreth himself burst out with an angry, “Oi!”
“I am not wrong,” Natty challenged, “Last year, the fool brewed a so-called Courage Draught and turned the Gryffindor common room into a circus before breakfast! People were bursting into tears, blurting out every imprudent thing that crossed their minds—half the house was confessing secrets they will never live down!”
“That was just an unintended side-effect. The boldness matrix overshot by… a touch.”
Natty turned to Garreth and folded her arms, unimpressed, “Is that right? And what of that study tonic of yours that kept everyone who drank it awake for three entire days? Madame Blainey was beside herself, running from ward to ward with pepper-up potions and calming draughts, and poor Professor Sharp nearly set up camp in the dungeons trying to counter your mess. Professor Weasley was so furious she docked enough points to sink Gryffindor to the bottom of the hourglasses for the rest of term!”
Garreth half-rose from his seat, gesturing wildly, too earnest to notice the laughter gathering around him. “That one wasn’t my fault! I was missing a strand of kelpie hair—no, actually, three crushed sopophorous beans, finely diced—and it threw the whole balance off. Easy fix! With the proper ingredients, it would have been brilliant, but Sharp wouldn’t give them to me! I nearly had them perfected, I swear—”
“Garreth,” Natty cut in smoothly, pressing her palm down on the table with quiet finality. “Sit down.”
Garreth’s ears went even more crimson as he slumped back into his seat, a small proud smirk on his face despite himself. The laughter that followed rolled down the bench, bright and merciless, swallowing his last defence. A couple of older Gryffindors down the bench leaned in, eager to contribute to the humiliation of their housemate.
“We had to write our entire History of Magic essays in the hospital wing once,” someone said, voice gleaming with relish. “Madame Blainey threatened to chain him to a bed-frame for turning her ward into a dormitory during Quidditch season.”
“I heard that,” Garreth muttered into his goblet.
Poppy (still pink-cheeked from his earlier bread-roll heroics) made a small, helpless noise of half laughter, half second-hand embarrassment on his behalf. “Natty, you’re going to kill him.”
“He is still alive,” Natty replied, utterly unmoved. “Therefore I have shown restraint.”
Elysia’s laugh escaped her before she could stop it, and Garreth shot her a look of betrayal.
“Et tu, Ashcombe?! I thought we were getting along!”
“I was complimenting you. But you handed them your own rope,” Elysia said sweetly with a chuckle, putting up her hands in defence. “You cannot be shocked when they let you hang yourself with it.”
Garreth opened his mouth again, pure reflex, pride wounded, only for someone from the Ravenclaw table to call, “Go on then, Weasley! Tell us about the time you tried to ‘improve’ Thunder-brew!”
That earned another ripple of amusement, until a voice cut through from farther along the table, smooth and self-satisfied, as though he had been waiting for the right moment to enter the conversation. “All this fuss over Weasley’s cauldrons, yet the most interesting thing at this table is someone else who can actually duel.”
Elysia, Poppy, and Natty turned in succession. Leander Prewett had twisted round in his seat, leaning in with that smug, practised smile aimed straight at Elysia.
“Nice showing in Defence Against the Dark Arts, by the way. Sallow’s been strutting about as though he’s some duelling prodigy, but watching you take him down was brilliant. That kind of nerve looks very good on a witch.”
Elysia couldn’t have said why, only that the compliment sat wrong in her stomach. His words were flattering, but his eyes were not. They lingered too long, weighing her up, as though duelling were merely the excuse. The other remarks had warmed her. This one made her skin crawl.
“Oh, well…thank yo—”
“Of course,” Leander went on, barely letting her finish, “I’d nearly had Sallow myself. Would’ve put him in his place, too, if Professor Hecat hadn’t stepped in. He was already on the back foot, if you noticed. You’re welcome.” He finished with a wink, far too practised. Aimed not so much at her as at the room, as though he’d earned a share of her victory.
Natty’s hand stilled on her goblet, fingers subtly tightening around the stem. Poppy’s shoulders went rigid, eyes narrowing with a look that promised violence without a wand in sight.
Elysia felt her earlier unease crystallised. (That’s why it sounded so wrong.)
But she refused to hand him the pleasure of a bristle, a blush, or a scene. If it’s attention he wanted, he would have it—just not the kind he’d bargained for.
So she tilted her head, let her eyes widen a fraction, and spoke with careful sweetness, lifting her voice exactly enough to let it travel.
“Didn’t Professor Hecat stop that dragon skull from crushing you?”
Natty’s head whipped towards Elysia, eyebrows lifting high. First in surprise, then in unmistakable, gleaming approval. The grin that broke across her face was quick and brilliant, like a spark catching. It said everything Natty didn’t need to say out loud.
Poppy, apparently unable to contain herself, snorted a laugh straight into her goblet. She took a sip at the worst possible moment and paid for it immediately, spluttering as pumpkin juice shot up her nose. She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, still coughing, eyes watering with wicked delight.
Around them, a few chortles broke loose, quiet and scattered, the sort of laughter people tried and failed to swallow. A few students who’d been in Defence Against the Dark Arts earlier began filling in the gaps for the curious, and the witnessed account did Leander no favours.
Leander drew himself up, cheeks warm. He gave a dismissive little scoff in an attempt to turn humiliation into confidence.
“Pfft. Typical Slytherin trick, dropping a dragon skull on someone during a fight.” He swept his gaze down the bench, pointedly ignoring the fact that it had been his wand-work that brought the blasted thing down. “We Gryffindors fight with honour! And—uh—” He turned back to Elysia. “Hufflepuffs, too. At least you did.”
Leander lingered a moment too long after his little speech, waiting for the room to catch up to him. It didn’t.
Poppy was still dabbing at her nose, shoulders shaking with the last of her laughter. Garreth had already gone back to his meal, muttering something into his goblet that earned a snort from farther down the bench. Conversation flowed on as though Leander were not in it at all.
He tried to reclaim it anyway, straightening, smoothing his expression into smugness. “If you’ve any intention of duelling beyond the classroom,” he began, a touch too loudly, “there’s Crossed Wands—”
“Mm,” Natty said, dryly, not even looking at him. “Lucan will be delighted to hear you’ve discovered it.”
Elysia’s smile stayed pleasant. “I’ll keep it in mind,” she said. Then calmly and deliberately returned to her plate.
As supper wore on, the candles burned lower. Plates began to clear. Somewhere above, a prefect’s reminder about curfew drifted through the Hall, and benches scraped as students stood and gathered themselves. Natty slid off the seat with a stretch, warmth back in her eyes.
“Come,” she said, nudging Poppy and Elysia both into motion. “I will walk with you until we split off.”
Poppy sniffed hard, still occasionally blotting at her nose. “Merlin, Ely. If you ever make me laugh like that again,” she muttered, “I’m turning you into a toad.”
Natty hummed as if in agreement, far too innocent. “A sensible rule. We cannot have you snorting pumpkin juice up your nose in front of your beau, can we, Sweeting?”
Elysia’s laugh burst out before she could stop it. Poppy made a strangled sound of protest, ears blazing, and Natty’s grin only widened as she shepherded them onwards.
WHAT’S UP PARTY PEOPLE!!!
…Did you miss me? No? That’s fine. I missed me.
I’M BAAAACK 😌✨ and I’ve brought Chapter 7 with me.
Does it advance the plot? Nope. Absolutely not.
Is it cheesy, stupid, and somehow still iconic? Yes. Precisely.
I needed a chapter like this to tie up a few loose ends, settle Elysia properly into Hogwarts life, and (if I’m being honest) get myself back into the world after a brief depresso espresso hiatus.
But I’m here now. I’m writing again. And I’m not disappearing for another eight months. (Please bully me lovingly if I try.)
Hope you enjoy the fluff, the chaos, the gossip, and the general Great Hall nonsense.
Alright. Deuces, amigos. 🫶
Premise of Chapter: With her supplies mostly sorted and her first day behind her, Elysia should finally be able to breathe. But at Hogwarts, nothing stays private for long. With new friendships deepening and the rumour mill in full swing, the Great Hall becomes its own kind of battleground. Teasing, loyalty, jealousy, romance, the sort of attention that makes her skin crawl… and so much laughter you may need a napkin for the pumpkin juice.
✏️ Word Count: 4.4 K
⚠️ Warnings: Mild embarrassment in front of peers, unwanted flirting/mild sexual harassment vibes, gossip/teasing, brief crude humour/coarse language
💌 Reblogs, comments, and wild theories are always welcome to a lonely writer such as moi — they’re the magic that keeps this story alive. Every time you share a thought, you’re not just a reader, you’re part of the magic (and you might just guess something I haven’t revealed yet). ✨
📚 Masterlist | ⬅️ Prior Chapter | ➡️ Next Chapter
════════ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ════════
Elysia emerged from Professor Weasley’s office with her arms full and her thoughts buzzing. The Deputy Headmistress had commended her for surviving her first day and offered what reassurance she could to ease the minor anxieties still pressing on her mind. An owl had already been dispatched to the Ministry to have her student bursary renewed, since all her belongings had been lost before term began (courtesy of one out-of-control dragon). In the meantime, as Professor Weasley had explained the night before, the Hufflepuff prefects had scraped together a serviceable satchel from the House stores that had a small Hufflepuff emblem shining on the front, and a handful of worn textbooks long abandoned by their former owners. Their pages were softened with years of handling, margins crowded with scrawls in a dozen different hands.
It meant she would not need to rush to Hogsmeade this week. With the bare necessities provided, she could leave the trip until the weekend and perhaps even go with her friends. Failing that, she considered sneaking down on Wednesday morning during her spare period… though she would first have to endure her Ministry check-in with Professor Fig and Clara Thorne. But she’d think of that later.
In any case, she had thanked the Deputy Headmistress warmly, packed what she could into the satchel, and hugged the rest to her chest. She crossed the Transfiguration Courtyard with the intention of dropping everything in the common room before dashing to the Great Hall for supper. The thought of seeing Natty and Poppy again put a smile on her face despite the weight of her load.
She was still smiling, lost in her thoughts, when the world went abruptly sideways. A blur of yellow-trimmed robes and a dark bob struck her from behind, arms clamping round her shoulders as a voice shrieked with unrestrained delight, “Elysia—bloody—Ashcombe!”
Elysia’s books went skidding across the flagstones as she staggered under the impact. Giggling despite herself, she recognized the culprit at once as Poppy Sweeting, who spun her round to face her, eyes shining, cheeks flushed from the run.
“How in Merlin’s name do you exist? You’re like something out of a tale, you absolute devil!”
“Poppy, honestly I—”
“You toppled Sallow in front of the entire class? The Sebastian Sallow?! Are you joking? You’re mad!”
Elysia giggled, though her cheeks burned pink. “Blimey, Poppy, keep it down. The whole courtyard’s staring. It was just a duel.” She bent quickly to gather one of the books she’d dropped, but Poppy was already snatching it up for her, eyes alight.
“Just a duel?! Ely, do you realize what you’ve done? Natty and I heard about this all the way from the other side of the castle. Sallow’s been undefeated since third year. He’s the best duellist our age and you beat him on your first day!”
“Undefeated?” Elysia echoed, trying for disbelief, though her blush only deepened. “I hardly think it counts. He wasn’t even trying. He must’ve been going easy on me—”
“Oh no, do not start that. I assure you, Sebastian Sallow has never in his life gone easy on anybody,” Poppy cut in, grinning with wicked satisfaction. “The whole school’s buzzing! They say the duel went on longer than any of the others in the whole class. Someone swears you actually caught his wand right out of the air when you disarmed him. And then—” she seized Elysia’s arm with renewed vigour, balancing a stack of books in the other as they headed toward the Hufflepuff common room, “—then you blasted him clean off the platform whilst holding both wands! And to crown it all, you curtsied at him? It’s gone round every House already. You’ve made a legend of yourself. Oh, if only I were a Legilimens—I’d pay my last Galleon to reach right into your mind and see the exact look on his face in that moment. You must tell me how you’ve grown so good at duelling! It makes no sense. There’s no chance that was your first duel.”
Elysia pressed her lips together, torn between laughter and mortification. “Honestly, it was. Professor Fig taught me a few basics, and I think he let me win half the time.”
“Basics? Hah! Sure, whatever you say, Ely. But don’t think for a second I’m not going to be dragging Natty into this.” Poppy declared, triumphant. “And as for Sallow, he needed humbling, and you’ve done what no one else could. A true service to the school. I can already see the headline on tomorrow’s Prophet: ‘New Fifth-Year Humiliates Undefeated Slytherin.’”
They both collapsed into giggles at that. Poppy shifted the stack of books in her arms, her hand still looped through Elysia’s as they continued down the corridors.
Elysia shot her a sly glance, then bumped her shoulder against Poppy’s with deliberate mischief. “If I didn’t know any better,” she murmured, lowering her voice like a conspirator, “I’d say you’ve a soft spot for him.” She lifted her brows twice in an exaggerated waggle.
Poppy nearly tripped over her own feet. “What?!” Her face went pink to the tips of her ears. “No! He’s completely insufferable most of the time.”
“Oh really, Sweeting?” Elysia prodded, grinning. “Because the way you talk about him…”
“Oh please!” Poppy huffed, shaking her head. “Sebastian’s not remotely my type.”
Elysia gasped, delighted, drawing the word out like a song. “Ooooh, so you do have a type, then…and it isn’t Sallow. Which means there is someone! Poppy Sweeting, there’s someone you liiiike.”
Poppy’s blush deepened until it rivalled the crimson trim of the Gryffindor banners. “Absolutely not!” she blurted, yanking her arm free of Elysia’s grip. “There isn’t anyone. And if there was, it certainly would never be Sallow.” She stalked ahead a few steps, clutching the books to her chest like a shield.
Elysia let out a scandalized laugh and hurried after her, slipping back into step with a grin. “Oh, come on, you can’t escape that easily. Who is it, then? Tell me. Is it that blonde fellow who’s always glued to his side?”
Poppy’s grip tightened on her books, knuckles whitening as even more colour flooded her face. “Merlin’s sake, Ely, no! He’s a Slytherin and he—he’s a Gaunt. Well…Oh, I guess you wouldn’t know but, people say things about his family… things I’d rather not get mixed up in.”
Elysia blinked, none the wiser. (What on earth is that supposed to mean?) No matter, she’d find out later. For now, Elysia seized upon the slip with glee. “Aha! So it isn’t a Slytherin!” she crowed, waggling her brows again.
Poppy flushed brighter, if it was even possible. “I didn’t mean—oh, Ely, you’re twisting my words—”
“You said it yourself, Pops,” Elysia cut her off gleefully. “Not a Slytherin. That narrows it down splendidly.” She leaned in, eyes shining with mischief. “So then… Ravenclaw? A dreamy intellectual?” She barely gave Poppy a chance to protest before carrying on. “Or maybe a fellow Hufflepuff? And how very convenient, Pops. No sneaking across the castle for late-night escapades when you’re both tucked away in the same common room.” She took in a sharp inhale, clasping her hands theatrically. “Or perhaps… a Gryffindor? Bold and reckless! Sweeping you into some daring escapade, kissing you right under the lion banners with the whole school watching?”
Poppy faltered mid-stride, lips pressing tight.
“Ohhh,” Elysia gasped, pointing a finger right at Poppy. “That look says it all. It’s someone from Gryffindor!”
“Shhhh! Keep your voice down!” Poppy sputtered, “That proves nothing!”
“It proves everything,” Elysia sang triumphantly, nearly dancing as they walked. “You should see your face, Pops. You’re absolutely smitten! A Gryffindor beau! How utterly scandalous.” She bumped Poppy’s shoulder again, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come now, tell me who before I start guessing names aloud in the middle of supper.”
Poppy gasped, “You wouldn’t dare!”
Elysia’s grin widened, “I dare you test it.”
“Oh, come off it,” Poppy shot back. “You’ve been here all of one day. You barely know anyone’s names, let alone who I might fancy.”
That gave Elysia the briefest pause. Poppy had a point, but her mischief refused to be snuffed out. She tapped her chin in mock-thought, sifting through the handful of faces she’d managed to clock in her classes. Mostly surnames, a few snippets. One or two had stuck, if only because the professors had barked them across the room.
“Hmm,” she hummed theatrically. “All right then… someone with red hair, perhaps?”
The way Poppy fumbled and spluttered said far more than words ever could. Elysia let out a delighted squeak and laughed. “Merlin’s beard, Pops, you’re hopeless at hiding it! Is it that one guy…oh bugger, what was it…uh—Prewett?”
Poppy pulled a face. “Leander?! Godric’s heart, no. I’d sooner curse myself bald. He’s a complete creep.”
Elysia snorted, nodding fervently. “Thank heavens, Pops. If you’d said yes, I’d have had to question my sanity for choosing to be your friend. Haven’t even exchanged so much as a greeting with him, and I could feel something off just by the way he looks at people.”
Poppy let out a laugh and gave Elysia a featherlight smack on the elbow, more fond than reproachful. The two of them dissolved into laughter, their giggles bouncing off the stone.
Elysia tried to smother her grin. “All right then, not Prewett… but what about…” She faltered, mind flicking back to the duelling ring in Defence Against the Dark Arts. There’d been another redhead, loud and cocky, quick with his wand…what was his name again? She opened her mouth, still fumbling for it—
“If you don’t drop it,” Poppy interrupted, eyes sparkling though her tone was mock-severe, “I’ll hex your lips together before supper.”
Elysia threw her hands up in exaggerated surrender, laughter bubbling in her chest. “All right, all right, I yield, for now.” She leaned in again, voice dropping to a mischievous murmur. “But try as you may to hide, Sweeting, it will not matter. I’ll still get to the bottom of this. Mark my words.”
That set them both off again, helpless giggles tumbling between them as they made their way toward the warmth of the Hufflepuff common room, conspirators bound by a shared secret.
* * *
Elysia and Poppy ducked into the Hufflepuff common room just long enough to drop off the supplies Professor Weasley had provided. Freed of the weight, they quickly made their way back through the corridors, following the mouthwatering smell of roast beef and fresh bread toward the Great Hall. By the time they stepped inside, the long tables were buzzing with chatter, plates already heaped with food. Poppy nudged Elysia toward the Hufflepuff table, but before they could sit, a familiar voice called out.
“Elysia! Poppy!” Natty waved them over, already sliding along the Gryffindor bench to make room.
Elysia hesitated only a moment before slipping in beside her, Poppy settling between them. It felt a little daring… She had half-expected the house tables to be enforced with strict formality, especially under a Headmaster who seemed so obsessed with appearances. But Natty caught her glance and smiled knowingly.
“Do not worry,” she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “The Sorting Ceremony and other formal occasions are the only times they expect us to sit properly. After that, you may sit with whichever friends you like. It is a common custom to stay with your house, yes. But it is no law.”
Elysia grinned at the notion, feeling oddly relieved. “Good. I’d hate to think I had to keep my distance from you two just because of where some tattered old hat decided to plonk me.”
That sent the girls into a fit of chuckles before they began piling their plates high with the endless dishes prepared by the house-elves, trading stories from the parts of the day the others had missed. As expected, their chatter circled back again and again to Poppy’s ‘super secret’ Gryffindor crush. Natty was convinced she already knew who it was—“you two have been painfully obvious since my first day at Hogwarts,” she’d teased—and, of course, to the duel between Elysia and Sebastian.
Throughout the meal, students from every table drifted by now and then with grins and compliments. Each remark sent a flicker of warmth through her chest… though part of her still wasn’t sure whether she’d earned it or just amused them. At some point, Elysia dared a glance toward the Slytherin table, hoping to catch sight of that smirking brunette to see what he was up to. She had barely managed to scan the faces before being distracted by something much more interesting as Natty’s arm shot across the bench to steal a bread roll from Poppy’s plate.
A high-pitched squeal came from Poppy, who scolded her to fetch her own. Natty only grinned, cheeks full, utterly unrepentant. Absolutely beaming at the scene, Elysia seized the chance while Poppy’s head was turned and snatched the remaining roll and sank her teeth into it with a grin. Poppy whipped round to shriek in outrage as both she and Natty chewed noisily, groaning and moaning in exaggerated delight, then dissolving into helpless laughter until the poor Hufflepuff dropped her head into her hands.
“Here,” a voice broke in from further down the table.
All three girls stopped and looked up together, Elysia and Natty still with their cheeks puffed and mouths full of bread.
Elysia recognized him. It was the other red-haired Gryffindor boy from Defence Against the Dark Arts. His surname had escaped her earlier, but seeing his face jogged the memory: Weasley. He was leaning across with a roll held out from his own plate. Never mind the dozens still piled high along the table!
“This one’s the best of the lot. Picked it out myself,” he said with a playful grin, pushing it toward Poppy. “You ought to have it.”
Poppy’s eyes widened and she flapped her hands in tiny, embarrassed shakes. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—there are plenty more—”
“I insist,” he cut in, lifting the roll a little higher for emphasis. “Look, it’s got the best colour of all of them.”
Poppy’s cheeks went scarlet as she accepted it at last, murmuring, “Th-thank you, Garreth…”
His grin widened, bright and boyish, though the tips of his ears betrayed him with their flush. “Any time,” he said lightly, before dropping back into his seat as though nothing at all had happened.
Elysia caught the way Poppy ducked her head over the roll, hiding her dazed smile, and clutching it with both hands like it was some priceless treasure. She immediately shot Natty a look, mouthing a triumphant, I see what you meant.
Natty rolled her eyes and mouthed back, I have endured an entire year of this.
Poppy swatted both their thighs beneath the bench and hissed, “I can clearly hear you two.”
Natty reached for her drink and muttered from behind the rim of her goblet, just loud enough for them both to catch it, “Subtle as a Bludger,” her lips twitching with amusement.
Elysia snorted, earning herself another swat from Poppy. And before she knew it, Elysia was tipping forward over the table to address the redhead directly, curiosity piqued.
Poppy’s horrified whisper followed in a rush. “No! Ely! What’re you doing?”
Too late.
“Weasley, isn’t it? I saw you in Defence class earlier.” Elysia tilted her head, a spark of mischief in her eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Professor Weasley, would you?”
The boy looked up from his plate with an easy grin that lit his whole face. “That’s right. Garreth Weasley. Aunt Matilda does her best to keep me honest—well, she tries. Merlin’s balls, she’s forever watching me as though I were still a first year. Tends to keep a little too close an eye for my liking, but she means well enough.”
Garreth leaned in, extending his hand across the platters as he added boisterously, “And you’re Ashcombe, aren’t you? Hero of the hour, vanquisher of Slytherins. You may wear Hufflepuff colours, but don’t think that spares you. I’m claiming you for Gryffindor tonight! Our common room shall be toasting your name till dawn for knocking Sebastian down. That was our victory as much as yours.”
Elysia clasped his hand, laughing outright at his theatrics. “You’re absurd,” she said, amusement bright in her tone. “Just Elysia, please. And I can’t take all the glory. You were rather impressive yourself against that other Slytherin.” She nudged Poppy with pointed exaggeration, delighted with herself. “In fact, I was only just telling Poppy here so. She tells me you’re quite the duellist. The best, in fact, Gryffindor’s ever seen, according to her.”
Poppy froze, eyes wide, colour flaring in her cheeks even more. Elysia could’ve sworn she saw steam rising from the poor girl’s head. Across the table, Garreth caught the sight, his grin faltering into something softer before he ducked his head with a low laugh, hand rubbing the back of his neck.
“Oh…she did? Really?” His smile tugged wider despite his attempt at nonchalance, a spark of triumph lighting his eyes.
“I… I didn’t—well, I suppose—” Poppy stammered, words collapsing into nonsense.
“Really! She will not stop going on about it. She’s incredibly upset she’s not in Hecat’s class with us,” Elysia cut in smoothly, wicked grin in place. She turned to Natty. “Isn’t that right?”
“Mmm-hmm,” Natty agreed through a mouthful of roast beef, nodding as though it were the plainest truth in the world.
Garreth’s ears pinked again, but his grin only broadened, easy and unbothered. “Well, Poppy flatters me. Truth be told, duelling isn’t my crown jewel. My real gift’s in potions. Professor Sharp says I take too many risks, doesn’t much appreciate my ‘creativity.’ But I say it’s only a matter of time before they’re calling me the greatest potioneer of the age.” He beamed, chest puffed, relishing the boast. “Just you wait, one of these days you’ll see my brilliant brews on every professor’s desk. My talents are utterly wasted on the standard recipes.”
Before Elysia could marvel aloud, Natty set down her goblet with a decisive clink. Her dark eyes flashed with barely contained irritation. “Do not believe a word of it, Elysia. If Garreth Weasley ever offers you one of his ‘brilliant’ brews, you must turn and run in the opposite direction. Everyone at Hogwarts knows this.”
Poppy burst into helpless giggles, half hiding her face behind the roll he’d given her, while Garreth himself burst out with an angry, “Oi!”
“I am not wrong,” Natty challenged, “Last year, the fool brewed a so-called Courage Draught and turned the Gryffindor common room into a circus before breakfast! People were bursting into tears, blurting out every imprudent thing that crossed their minds—half the house was confessing secrets they will never live down!”
“That was just an unintended side-effect. The boldness matrix overshot by… a touch.”
Natty turned to Garreth and folded her arms, unimpressed, “Is that right? And what of that study tonic of yours that kept everyone who drank it awake for three entire days? Madame Blainey was beside herself, running from ward to ward with pepper-up potions and calming draughts, and poor Professor Sharp nearly set up camp in the dungeons trying to counter your mess. Professor Weasley was so furious she docked enough points to sink Gryffindor to the bottom of the hourglasses for the rest of term!”
Garreth half-rose from his seat, gesturing wildly, too earnest to notice the laughter gathering around him. “That one wasn’t my fault! I was missing a strand of kelpie hair—no, actually, three crushed sopophorous beans, finely diced—and it threw the whole balance off. Easy fix! With the proper ingredients, it would have been brilliant, but Sharp wouldn’t give them to me! I nearly had them perfected, I swear—”
“Garreth,” Natty cut in smoothly, pressing her palm down on the table with quiet finality. “Sit down.”
Garreth’s ears went even more crimson as he slumped back into his seat, a small proud smirk on his face despite himself. The laughter that followed rolled down the bench, bright and merciless, swallowing his last defence. A couple of older Gryffindors down the bench leaned in, eager to contribute to the humiliation of their housemate.
“We had to write our entire History of Magic essays in the hospital wing once,” someone said, voice gleaming with relish. “Madame Blainey threatened to chain him to a bed-frame for turning her ward into a dormitory during Quidditch season.”
“I heard that,” Garreth muttered into his goblet.
Poppy (still pink-cheeked from his earlier bread-roll heroics) made a small, helpless noise of half laughter, half second-hand embarrassment on his behalf. “Natty, you’re going to kill him.”
“He is still alive,” Natty replied, utterly unmoved. “Therefore I have shown restraint.”
Elysia’s laugh escaped her before she could stop it, and Garreth shot her a look of betrayal.
“Et tu, Ashcombe?! I thought we were getting along!”
“I was complimenting you. But you handed them your own rope,” Elysia said sweetly with a chuckle, putting up her hands in defence. “You cannot be shocked when they let you hang yourself with it.”
Garreth opened his mouth again, pure reflex, pride wounded, only for someone from the Ravenclaw table to call, “Go on then, Weasley! Tell us about the time you tried to ‘improve’ Thunder-brew!”
That earned another ripple of amusement, until a voice cut through from farther along the table, smooth and self-satisfied, as though he had been waiting for the right moment to enter the conversation. “All this fuss over Weasley’s cauldrons, yet the most interesting thing at this table is someone else who can actually duel.”
Elysia, Poppy, and Natty turned in succession. Leander Prewett had twisted round in his seat, leaning in with that smug, practised smile aimed straight at Elysia.
“Nice showing in Defence Against the Dark Arts, by the way. Sallow’s been strutting about as though he’s some duelling prodigy, but watching you take him down was brilliant. That kind of nerve looks very good on a witch.”
Elysia couldn’t have said why, only that the compliment sat wrong in her stomach. His words were flattering, but his eyes were not. They lingered too long, weighing her up, as though duelling were merely the excuse. The other remarks had warmed her. This one made her skin crawl.
“Oh, well…thank yo—”
“Of course,” Leander went on, barely letting her finish, “I’d nearly had Sallow myself. Would’ve put him in his place, too, if Professor Hecat hadn’t stepped in. He was already on the back foot, if you noticed. You’re welcome.” He finished with a wink, far too practised. Aimed not so much at her as at the room, as though he’d earned a share of her victory.
Natty’s hand stilled on her goblet, fingers subtly tightening around the stem. Poppy’s shoulders went rigid, eyes narrowing with a look that promised violence without a wand in sight.
Elysia felt her earlier unease crystallised. (That’s why it sounded so wrong.)
But she refused to hand him the pleasure of a bristle, a blush, or a scene. If it’s attention he wanted, he would have it—just not the kind he’d bargained for.
So she tilted her head, let her eyes widen a fraction, and spoke with careful sweetness, lifting her voice exactly enough to let it travel.
“Didn’t Professor Hecat stop that dragon skull from crushing you?”
Natty’s head whipped towards Elysia, eyebrows lifting high. First in surprise, then in unmistakable, gleaming approval. The grin that broke across her face was quick and brilliant, like a spark catching. It said everything Natty didn’t need to say out loud.
Poppy, apparently unable to contain herself, snorted a laugh straight into her goblet. She took a sip at the worst possible moment and paid for it immediately, spluttering as pumpkin juice shot up her nose. She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, still coughing, eyes watering with wicked delight.
Around them, a few chortles broke loose, quiet and scattered, the sort of laughter people tried and failed to swallow. A few students who’d been in Defence Against the Dark Arts earlier began filling in the gaps for the curious, and the witnessed account did Leander no favours.
Leander drew himself up, cheeks warm. He gave a dismissive little scoff in an attempt to turn humiliation into confidence.
“Pfft. Typical Slytherin trick, dropping a dragon skull on someone during a fight.” He swept his gaze down the bench, pointedly ignoring the fact that it had been his wand-work that brought the blasted thing down. “We Gryffindors fight with honour! And—uh—” He turned back to Elysia. “Hufflepuffs, too. At least you did.”
Leander lingered a moment too long after his little speech, waiting for the room to catch up to him. It didn’t.
Poppy was still dabbing at her nose, shoulders shaking with the last of her laughter. Garreth had already gone back to his meal, muttering something into his goblet that earned a snort from farther down the bench. Conversation flowed on as though Leander were not in it at all.
He tried to reclaim it anyway, straightening, smoothing his expression into smugness. “If you’ve any intention of duelling beyond the classroom,” he began, a touch too loudly, “there’s Crossed Wands—”
“Mm,” Natty said, dryly, not even looking at him. “Lucan will be delighted to hear you’ve discovered it.”
Elysia’s smile stayed pleasant. “I’ll keep it in mind,” she said. Then calmly and deliberately returned to her plate.
As supper wore on, the candles burned lower. Plates began to clear. Somewhere above, a prefect’s reminder about curfew drifted through the Hall, and benches scraped as students stood and gathered themselves. Natty slid off the seat with a stretch, warmth back in her eyes.
“Come,” she said, nudging Poppy and Elysia both into motion. “I will walk with you until we split off.”
Poppy sniffed hard, still occasionally blotting at her nose. “Merlin, Ely. If you ever make me laugh like that again,” she muttered, “I’m turning you into a toad.”
Natty hummed as if in agreement, far too innocent. “A sensible rule. We cannot have you snorting pumpkin juice up your nose in front of your beau, can we, Sweeting?”
Elysia’s laugh burst out before she could stop it. Poppy made a strangled sound of protest, ears blazing, and Natty’s grin only widened as she shepherded them onwards.
AND HERE HE IS! My son, my love, my baby Calum. Who started off as just a filler character I needed for book 2 but very quickly became a significant part of my life and my heart and keeps me thinking of him all hours of the day. In all his glory, I present, CALUM TRENWITH ERRBODY:
Post last updated: 10/10/2025
Nicknames: Cal, Prince of Hogwarts
Pronouns: Wizard (He/Him)
Sexuality: Gay 🏳️🌈
Birthday: February 4, 1872 (aged up 2 years for my fic. So he’s 18 by 6th year in 1890)
Zodiac Star Sign: Aquarius ♒️
Blood Status: Half-Blood
House: Ravenclaw 💙🤍
Social Life
Parents: One wizard parent, one Muggle parent. Grew up in the countryside near Wells (Wookey Hole). Mother works at the Department of Mysteries. Father is a Muggle novelist. Their house is quiet, lined with books and magical safety wards. His dad keeps forgetting which doors are enchanted.
Siblings: One younger sister
Love Interest: Matéus Costa (Brazilian student from Castelobruxo School for Magic, long distance relationship)
Best Friend:
Personality
Positive traits:
Neutral traits:
Negative traits:
Wand
Unicorn hair, Beech wood, 12 ½", very flexible ->
Patronus
Elk ->
Pets/Companions
Barn Owl named Percy (short for Perseverance, which he claims is ironic because the owl bites him regularly).
Will add this soon...
A wonderful template by @kiwiplaetzchen
MCtober 2025
Week 1
═══════════════════════
Calum's story is far from finished, side character or not. Please consider giving a read to follow along, or just follow my blog for more Calum updates. Love y'all! Deuces!
HEY Y'ALL! I LIVE! And I am so excited to introduce y'all to my son, Calum Tenwith. I am a bit late, I know we're in the second week of October already, but I don't care. HERE HE IS!
I wanted to actually post more about Elysia originally, who is the literal main character of my fic and all. But I honestly couldn't help myself , I really wanted to yap about Calum cause, dare I say it, I love him more.
So the whole reason I made him was because later on in my storyline, I needed a filler character that wouldn't get in the way of some major plot points but...He just took a life of his own and stole the show!!! He's a year older, so in HL year 1890 he would actually be in sixth year, and while he's not a big part of the first book of my fic which is Elysia's fifth year, he is a MAJOR character by 1891 (which hopefully my ADHD will kick in again and I'll start writing so I CAN FUCKING FINISH BOOK ONE!!!)
Anyways, enough about that, LET'S TALK MORE ABOUT CALUM! Gonna be following this post by @myokk for the prompts for MCtober
Just as a week one intro, here's a quick character sheet for him from @kiwiplaetzchen just to introduce:
But as y'all are aware, I enjoy yapping!
Calum is a half-blood from a small countryside village near Wells, Wookey Hole (yes, the one with the caves and the witch legend). His mum’s a witch working in the Department of Mysteries, his dad’s a Muggle novelist who still tries (and fails) to remember which doors in their little house are enchanted. He's also got a little sister (eight years younger) who basically thinks Calum hung the moon.
At Hogwarts, he’s what people mean when they say “the Prince of Hogwarts.” Calum’s the kind of person who can charm a portrait, make a professor laugh, and somehow get on Headmaster Black's good graces despite not being a pure-blood—but let's be real, it's only cause he makes Black look good. He’s clever (painfully so, Ravenclaw through & through) but never smug about it. He actually listens when people talk, remembers their favourite tea, and defends first-years like it’s a sport. Calum was a Prefect throughout his fifth and sixth years and by the time he got to seventh year, it was basically a no brainer that he immediately got the position for Head Boy.
Calum’s also unashamedly gay and has never pretended otherwise; half the school’s in love with him anyway because he’s kind, confident, and just flirty enough to make everyone feel seen, but never crosses any lines.
Before his fifth year, Calum was chosen for and took part in a Ministry funded exchange programme at Castelobruxo in Brazil. From it, not only did it secure him a guaranteed position post graduation in the Department of International Magical Cooperation (because apparently being talented, diplomatic, and multilingual wasn’t enough; he had to be that overachiever too), but it is also where he met the love of his life Matéus Costa. Their correspondence letters are half-romance, half-art project (sometimes scented, sometimes sing, and always way too sentimental for anyone else to read without blushing).
ANYWHOOOS! That's just a small snapshot of Calum! I'm so excited to yap about him more and tell you guys everything about him because he genuinely is so amazing! Will definitely be making a huge ass OC profile for him and going into the nitty gritty details of everything (which I'll link on my masterlist).
For now though, I'll wrap up MCtober 2025 week 1 post. Hope y'all enjoyed it and STAY TUNED FOR MORE! 💙
Hey guys! Sorry I’ve been so incredibly absent. Since the start of September, work and uni and everything in general has been an absolute clusterfuuuuu-
That said, I’m going to do my best to take part in Hogtober or MCtober as I have never done it before but always wanted to. It might not be consistent and bleed into November but I’ll do my best
I’ll also try to get another chapters of my fic out. Been trying to work on it on night shifts.
Anyways, love y’all crazies! Stay awesome. I’ll still interact with everyone but apologies for the small amount of content coming from me 💛❤️💚💙
Sooo remember how I promised my Ominis Gaunt essay for Saturday/Sunday? Yeah… about that. We blinked, it’s actually now Monday 😅😅😅😅
Your girl got bodied by food poisoning Sunday and spent the whole day as a limp noodle on the couch. My activities included:
Rewatching Supernatural AGAIN! (don’t @ me)
Belting K-pop demon hunters karaoke while wrapped in a burrito blanket
Doom-scrolling TikTok until my brain turned to soup
In all fairness, I could’ve worked on the essay (like if I’m being honest…I wasn’t THAT sick 🫣) but instead I used the food poisoning as an excuse to go “ehhh later.” Then later turned into night, night turned into nope, nope turned into EMOTIONAL TRAUMA BECAUSE A SPIDER INVADED MY ROOM AT 2AM. 🕷️🕷️(Yes, I killed it 💪 but also yes, I cried for 30 minutes psyching myself up first.) Crash landed into sleep after that, so here we are.
✨BUT!✨ I PROMISE IT’S COMING. For real this time. Your local menace has hydrated, gone to spider-related therapy, and is back on her Ominis-shit. Essay incoming, scouts honor. It’s basically done—just needs one last read-over and edit.
Love you cuties 🥰😘😘
[insert hold music] please enjoy some shitposts while I get my life together🎹🎼🎶🎵
