99mooon - Tumblr blog

99mooon · 4 months ago

Text

Unspoken Choices - Next of kin.

“So the dragon attack was real?”

That was the last thing she expected to hear.

After dinner, Lyda had returned to the common room with the heavy feeling of not having connected with anyone. At least she exchanged a few words and answered some superficial questions, but most students still seemed confused by her odd presence, since it was unusual for a fifth-year student to appear out of nowhere. As she sat alone by the fireplace, quietly reading, a figure suddenly appeared in front of her, startling her. Even more surprising was when the figure spoke, intruding into her problems.

The sole mention of the dragon was enough to send shivers down her spine. She barely had time to process everything that happened that day, and had to put on her best face so no one noticed. Professor Fig had been very clear: she was not to tell anyone about that afternoon's events, not even the teachers, until they could resolve it themselves. However, much to the professor’s dismay, it seemed the boy in front of her had figured it together on his own.

Excuse me?” Lyda's voice came out higher than she intended, and she quickly avoided his gaze, making sure no one else had heard him.

“No one is paying attention,” he said, unimpressed, as he raised his voice.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Lyda replied.

Her peace had been disrupted, and the idea of retreating to her dorm, taking a hot shower, and getting some rest was becoming more tempting by the second. She was about to head towards the girls'' wing when the boy spoke again, and this time she looked him right in his eyes.

She nearly let out a small gasp. He was handsome, just like the heroes in the fantasy books she used to read with her grandmother. He seemed about her age, tall, with messy brown hair falling over his forehead. His eyes were a warm hazel brown, and his face was dotted with freckles everywhere, while looking at her with a little smirk. In his left hand, he held a book with his finger marking the page —as if he had been deep in thought before approaching her.

“Sorry, that was rather blunt of me,” he admitted, stepping back slightly as if unsure whether to give her space or leave himself. Yet neither of them moved, or looked away.

“You’re the new fifth-year, aren’t you?” he asked, again, breaking the awkward silence. “I’m Sebastian Sallow.”

His casual, outgoing demeanor took Lyda by surprise. She barely had time to nod before he stepped forward and shook her hand. His skin was rough yet warm, and although the gesture was brief, she felt heat rising to her cheeks.

“My name is…” she hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking to the book in his hand. “What are you reading?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by the question, but his smirk remained intact.

“A spellbook. You’d be surprised what you can learn from them,” he said smoothly, though there was an unmistakable hint of mischief as he lowered his voice, “Things they don’t teach us in class.”

He winked, and Lyda instantly knew this boy was going to be trouble.

“What kind of spells?”

Sebastian let out a soft chuckle, leaning in slightly as if about to share a secret.

“You're quite curious, aren't you?” he whispered, his warm breath brushing against her skin, “Why don't we leave this for another time, haven't you had enough excitement for today?

Lyda froze, aware of how close he was. Her reaction must have caught him off guard, because Sebastian straightened quickly, stepping back with an almost embarrassed look on his face. For a brief moment, his outward assurance wavered, revealing something more uncertain. But it was gone in an instant, replaced again by his usual smile.

"Sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’m not used to meeting new people. Normally, it’s just me, my sister, and my best friend. Sometimes… I got a little carried away."

The mischievous glint in his eyes remained, but his voice had softened slightly, laced with something else.

"I overheard Professor Fig muttering something about it earlier." he said, studying her. "So, the dragon attack—was it real?”

Sebastian didn’t strike her as the gossipy type. With the book in his hand and that keen look in his eye, he seemed more like someone who simply hated leaving questions unanswered.

Lyda had promised not to say anything. But between making a friend and being alone… she preferred to share at least a little of the truth.

"It’s true, but you can’t tell anyone."

"Promise. But are you alright? That must have been terrifying…"

It felt strange to be confiding in someone she had only just met. Strange… but also a little relieving. She couldn’t imagine having to carry the weight of it all by herself, and Sebastian was very kind too. Professor Fig was trying to protect her, she knew that, but if she didn’t talk about it soon, she might just explode, or cry. The events of the day pressed heavy on her chest, and with Sebastian cracking open Pandora’s box, Lyda felt the sting of tears in her eyes, threatening to fall.

Sebastian must have noticed her hesitation, because he closed his book with a quiet snap.

"I think we can continue this conversation another time, right…?" He left the sentence hanging.

"Lyda. Lyda Harret."

"Well then, Lyda. Welcome to Slytherin."

At breakfast, Lyda saw no sign of Sebastian.

After heading to bed—and falling asleep almost instantly—she had thought that, perhaps after their conversation the night before, she might have made a friend. If that were the case, she wouldn’t feel so alone and would at least have someone somewhat familiar to rely on for her first class. However, he was nowhere to be seen, and she hadn’t spotted him in the common room earlier either.

The adrenaline of the previous day had completely vanished as soon as her head hit the pillow, leaving her feeling exhausted, but luckily allowing her to sleep soundly without nightmares. Although she had overslept, fortunately she woke up in a good mood and with a huge appetite. When she stepped into the Great Hall, the hundreds—no, thousands of floating candles above greeted her once again, leaving her just as awestruck as before. They were impossible to ignore for someone who had never seen anything like it.

Lyda had only ever heard about magic in her grandmother’s stories. She had always assumed they were just the ramblings of an old woman, or at least she had until her acceptance letter arrived on her last birthday. And now, sitting among her housemates, she couldn’t help but feel as if she had stepped straight into the very stories she had grown up listening to. Yet, adjusting to the wizarding world was proving to be far more difficult than in those tales. Despite the kindness of many, there were still some who weren’t exactly thrilled by the arrival of "the new fifth-year." The nickname had stuck, and it highlighted Lyda’s biggest fear—not fitting in.

At least breakfast felt different from the previous night’s dinner. To her relief, several students began asking her about life in the Muggle world, as they called it.

Most of the questions were fairly harmless like "Where are you from?" or "Can you ride a broom?" —Wait, brooms were used for sports in the wizarding world?! thought Lyda, surprised.

Others, however, bordered on uncomfortable. "Did you get expelled from your old school? Is that why you’re here so late?" and "How did no one realise you were a witch before, are you an orphan?"

But the best question of the morning, courtesy of the girl who had given her that wonderful nickname, was " You don’t seem very comfortable talking about your family. How do we know you're not a squib?"

"Imelda!" A sharp voice cut through the chatter.

Lyda didn’t know what the word squib meant, but judging by the reactions around her, it wasn’t exactly a compliment.

Violet, the short-haired girl sitting beside her, had been incredibly kind throughout breakfast, filling her in on the professors, the lessons, extracurricular activities —and even defending her against Imelda. Despite struggling to make connections the night before, Lyda was grateful to have at least managed to make one friendly conversation—aside from her brief interaction with Sebastian.

‘Sorry, we're not all that obnoxious" Violet called out, loud enough for the entire Slytherin table—and especially Imelda—to hear. "Maybe if you tried being a bit nicer, Imelda, your face wouldn’t always look like that."

For a second, Imelda looked genuinely taken aback, but she quickly masked it with indifference. With a dismissive shrug, she turned back to her group of friends, as if nothing had happened. Lyda couldn't understand a word they were saying, even though they spoke English, and the only thing she understood was the word ‘Quidditch’.

"We have to win the Cup this year!" Imelda declared, slamming her fist against the table for emphasis—completely ignoring the fact that Violet had just called her out.

"Don’t mind her. She’s not always like this, but she can be a bit…"

"Moody? Unpleasant? A killjoy?”

“Bitchy.” Violet tried to hide her smirk, though not very successfully. Despite Imelda’s attitude, it was clear she had some level of fondness for her.

“She’s usually alright, but I’ve come to realise that most of her behaviour comes from her need to be the best at everything. She sees everyone as competition."

Lyda found it difficult to understand Imelda’s reasoning. Her comments felt more childish than truly malicious. After everything Lyda had been through— and nearly dying the day before, Imelda’s remarks barely fazed her. In fact, she found them more amusing than offensive. Besides, she had dealt with people like that before in her old school.

“Cheers!" Violet suddenly announced, snapping Lyda out of her thoughts. "A toast to our newest Slytherin!

Lyda felt a little self-conscious at the sudden attention, but Violet’s encouraging smile was enough to make her lift her own goblet and join in.

After what felt like an eternity of eating and gathering energy, Violet and Lyda finally headed off to their first class of the day. According to Violet, it was the worst subject, though she had refused to elaborate further—insisting that Lyda needed to see it for herself.

Their classroom was near the Bell Tower Wing, and getting there from the Great Hall was a much longer walk than Lyda was used to. If every day was going to be like this, she would have to wake up two hours early just to arrive on time and not get lost. At one point Lyda remembered that this was not the only class of the day, and if the next classroom was any further away she would end up fainting and would’ve to be dragged the rest of the way. Up until then, Hogwarts had seemed fairly normal—aside from the magic, of course, But the moment she entered the classroom, and got quite a shock.

Her professor… was a ghost.

His entire body was transparent—almost blurry, and she could see the blackboard through him without any trouble. Professor Binns, as Violet told her his name, drifted around the room, passing straight through furniture and walls as he rambled on about the Goblin Rebellion of 1465, recounting every little detail as if he had been there himself. Every now and then, he would accidentally glide through a student who had dozed off, startling them awake. Lyda wasn’t sure if he did it on purpose, but laughed a little until when he floated through her, just as she was about to nod off in the middle of his lecture, and the icy feeling left her shivering long after the class had ended. Thankfully, the rest of her lessons were far more enjoyable, and even fun.

She got to chat with some students from other houses, like Poppy from Hufflepuff during Care of Magical Creatures, after the girl helped her feed a Niffler. Then there was Natti from Gryffindor, whom she partnered with in Charms class. By the end of what felt like the longest school day of her life, Lyda was completely exhausted. She collapsed into one of the armchairs in the common room, grateful for the quiet company of Violet, who, to Lyda's surprise, had even managed to convince Imelda to join them, though Imelda had agreed only on the condition that they play chess.

Imelda had attempted to challenge Lyda to a match, but after a day like that, all of her energy had been drained. She had to decline, much to her disappointment. Imelda merely shrugged and turned her attention to Violet instead. While the two girls played a non–so-friendly game of chess —with Imelda obviously in the lead, Lyda sat back, absentmindedly studying her second-hand wand. It was long, with intricate carvings on the handle. Professor Fig had told her it was made of oak, with a unicorn hair core. But it felt heavy in her grip—too heavy. Just waving it took more effort than it should.

Still, it would have to do for now. Earlier that day, Professor Weasley, the nice lady that teaches transfiguration, and had put the sorting hat on her head the day before, had pulled her aside, explaining that she would soon need to get a wand of her own.

"You'll never reach your full potential with one that isn't truly yours," she had said.

Ollivanders, a store in Hogsmeade, was the best place to go and Weasley had already planned to write to the old wandmaker to let him know he’d have a new customer soon.

Ollivanders, a wand shop in Hogsmeade — a village near Hogwarts, was the best place to go according to her, and Weasley had already planned to write to the old wandmaker to let him know that he would soon have a new customer in need of his services.

She’d also given Lyda the choice of bringing someone along.

Natti or Sebastian. The logical choice was Natti. She had been warm and understanding, had helped her in class, and had even shared stories about her home in Matabeleland to make Lyda feel less alone in her struggles. There was no doubt Natti would be a fantastic guide, making the trip both easy and enjoyable. And yet Lyda couldn't seem to shake the thought of Sebastian. His sharp, direct nature had caught her off guard, but there had been something else—something softer beneath his playful arrogance. He had been understanding in a way she hadn’t expected and was hard to ignore.

She hadn’t seen him since last night. Despite being in the same house and sharing the common room, and at some point, she had found herself scanning the crowd for him, without even meaning to. It didn’t make sense. They had only spoken for a few minutes. She barely knew him. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

Beside her, Violet let out a long sigh.

"Checkmate," Imelda murmured, a satisfied smirk on her face.

#hogwarts legacy #hphl fanart #sebastian sallow #hphl #sebastian sallow fanart #hogwarts legacy fanfic

32 notes · View notes