Fandom 𝑯𝑶𝑮𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑺: 𝑼𝑵𝑾𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑵 // 𝑴𝑨𝑰𝑵

[Tub2]

𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬...𝑻𝑶 𝑯𝑶𝑮𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑺

The towering castle of Hogwarts stood as proud and ancient as ever, its many turrets and spires stretching toward the cloudy night sky. A steady drizzle misted over the castle grounds, but the rain did little to dampen the excitement in the air. The great black carriages, drawn by unseen Thestrals to some and skeletal horses to others, trundled up the path, carrying eager students both old and new toward another year of magic and mystery.


The boats, gliding smoothly across the glassy lake, ferried first-years toward the looming castle doors. Gasps and murmurs filled the air as the new students caught their first glimpse of the towering structure. Some clung to their soaked robes, whispering nervously about the Sorting Ceremony that awaited them. Others grinned in excitement, itching to step foot into the legendary halls of Hogwarts.


Inside, the Great Hall was alive with golden light and flickering candles, floating effortlessly above the enchanted ceiling, which mirrored the stormy skies beyond. Long tables stretched the length of the room, already filling with students who laughed, embraced old friends, and exchanged summer stories. Some faces had changed—students who had once been quiet now carried themselves with new confidence, while others seemed weighed down, burdened by unseen troubles.


At the front of the hall, the grand staff table stood elevated on a dais, lined with professors both familiar and unfamiliar. A figure, cloaked in deep emerald robes, rose from the center of the table, drawing the attention of the restless crowd.


Grand Professor Lysander Vex—a striking presence with sharp, calculating eyes and a silver-threaded beard—stepped forward. His voice, though calm, carried through the hall with effortless authority.


“Welcome, students, to another year at Hogwarts,” he began, surveying the sea of young witches and wizards before him. “For some of you, this is a return to the familiar, a continuation of the journey you began years ago. For others, this is the very first step into a world of magic beyond imagination.”


His gaze swept across the tables, lingering on the fresh faces of the first-years, who sat with wide eyes near the front. “No matter your house, your heritage, or your history, you all share one thing—you are students of Hogwarts. Here, you will grow. Here, you will challenge yourselves. And here, you will discover who you truly are.”


He folded his hands behind his back, his tone darkening ever so slightly. “But let us not forget—magic is not to be taken lightly. It is a gift, yes, but one that demands discipline, responsibility, and respect. This year, as always, I expect the best from each of you.”


A small pause allowed the weight of his words to settle before he offered a slight, knowing smirk. “Now, I believe we have kept you from your feast long enough.” He lifted his goblet in a silent toast. “To new beginnings, and to the year ahead.”


With that, the golden plates shimmered and filled with a feast fit for kings, the mouthwatering aroma of roast meats, steaming potatoes, and fresh-baked bread spreading through the hall. Conversations broke out once more, laughter and clinking goblets filling the air as the new year at Hogwarts truly began.​

 

[Tub2]

Король — Kingston Christ.

Slytherin.

Hogwarts.

Dining hall

"What a pathetic little baby..."

interactions.

this scrolls! N/A

T

he Great Hall buzzed with excitement. Students chattered, exchanging stories about their summers, laughter echoing against the enchanted ceiling that mirrored the clear September sky. Plates piled high with food, goblets clinking—it was a celebration of another year at Hogwarts. But amid the warmth and liveliness, Kingston Christ sat in silence.

He was always quiet, always reserved, but tonight, something was different. His usual sharp gaze, the one that seemed to see through people, was distant—like his mind was elsewhere. He hadn't touched his food, nor had he responded to the casual banter of the Slytherins sitting around him.

"Alright, what’s wrong with you?" Lucian, one of the few people Kingston tolerated, leaned in, lowering his voice so only their small circle could hear. "You’ve barely said a word. Someone hex you over the summer?"

No response. Kingston barely acknowledged him, simply twirling his fork between his fingers in slow, calculated movements. His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable.

Across the table, Ophelia narrowed her eyes. "It’s not like you to sulk, Christ. Did something happen?"

Again, silence.

Lucian scoffed, leaning back. "Figures. Ask Kingston a question, get a damn riddle in return—or nothing at all."

A few of them exchanged glances, clearly unnerved. Kingston was always mysterious, always difficult to read, but tonight, there was something off. Something heavier than usual.

Finally, after a long pause, Kingston set his fork down with a soft clink. Without looking up, he muttered,

"It’s nothing."

But the way his voice lacked its usual controlled edge? The way his fingers curled just slightly into his palm before he stood up, walking away from the table without another word?

It was a lie.

And they all knew it.

Kingston didn’t leave the Great Hall in a hurry—he never rushed anywhere. Instead, he moved with the same calculated grace as always, but there was something different in his posture. A tension. A weight.

He didn’t stop when a few students turned their heads to watch him go. He didn’t acknowledge the whispered speculation from the younger Slytherins. He simply slipped through the towering doors and into the dimly lit corridors beyond.


The castle was alive with the sounds of celebration, but outside, the night was still. Kingston made his way down to the Black Lake, his hands tucked into the pockets of his robes. The reflection of the moon rippled across the surface, and the chill in the air felt grounding.

This was where he always went when something clawed at the edges of his mind. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere he could think.

But the thoughts refused to settle.

The letter. The one that had arrived just before the Hogwarts Express departed. Sealed with a crest he had hoped never to see again.

His grip tightened inside his pockets.

The words had been vague but clear enough. A warning? A message? He wasn’t sure yet. But he knew one thing—this year would not be simple.


"Didn't take you for the brooding type, Christ."

Kingston didn’t turn. He recognized the voice—Professor Vale, one of the few Hogwarts professors who didn’t look at him with either suspicion or forced respect.

"Shouldn’t you be inside, playing nice with the rest of them?" Vale continued, stepping up beside him, arms crossed.

Kingston exhaled through his nose, slow and measured.

"Just needed air."

The professor didn’t pry. Didn’t ask questions. Just stood there, watching the lake with him. That was fine by Kingston. He wasn’t in the mood to talk.

After a while, Vale spoke again. "Whatever it is, don’t let it control you. You’re better than that."

Kingston said nothing, but for the first time that night, his jaw unclenched slightly.


By the time he returned to the Great Hall, the energy was still high, but no one had forgotten his absence. His usual seat was still open, his friends still lingering around the table. Their conversation hushed slightly when they noticed him approaching.

Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Took a nice little walk, did you?"

Kingston ignored him, sitting back down and finally picking up his fork.

Ophelia leaned in slightly, watching him carefully. "You alright?"

Kingston glanced up, meeting her gaze for only a second before turning his attention back to his plate.

"I told you. It’s nothing."

And just like that, the conversation ended.

But they all knew—whatever had been bothering him before?

It still was.

 

[FireMaiden]

Angelina Whisp
Location: Great Hall - Slytherin Table
Mood: Just Fine
Interaction: Open
Mentioned: Tub2 (Kingston)
The excitement of this first feast was always something to marvel at. The first years buzzing with expectations, theorizing about what the classes would be like, what magical adventures they'd have. The second years were excited to be back and see their friends, to tell them of the summer activities they had gotten up to. Visiting distant relatives, seeing dragons on vacation, a week long stay at some Quidditch training camp, you get the idea. Angelina, when she was younger, would do the same. Her acquaintances would ask to be polite what she got up to, partly so she'd keep that in mind when they asked for help, partly because once she was out of these walls, she returned to a complete non-magical life. She wasn't sure why some people found it so interesting that she and her parents flew to Oregon instead of teleporting there, or that her mother lost some plants. And why did her parents home school her during the summer? What was the point, she was a witch, she didn't have to go back to the Muggles once she was done here. This year though was her last. The excitement didn't take over like it did, instead it was more somber. It was the beginning of a long goodbye. Was her school life her perfect? No, but that wasn't the point. Nobody asked what she had gotten up to this time, caught up in their own little worlds. Angelina didn't mind though.

In one hand she held her fork, pushing some food around on her plate until it wasn't touching, the other hand fiddling with the shiny Head Girl badge pinned to her robes. New year, new responsibilities. She understood this was one step up from prefect but she also wished someone else had gotten it. There were more than one prefect but only one Head Girl. She wondered if the Head Boy felt the same sort of anxiety, not that she knew him personally. Her gaze drifted from the plate to her badge again, the shiny piece of metal unable to be hidden. Maybe it played a role in why Angelina was being ignored for now. Not that she mentioned it, the girl taking a couple bites of her food, chewing slowly as she looked around the students sitting nearby.

She was lucky enough to catch the sight of Kingston getting up and leaving only now realizing she hadn't sat too far away from them. Now, they weren't friends, but she knew who he was. Everyone did, mister mysterious over there with the pretty face. He had good grades, a good reputation, a good family from what people tell her. Angelina tried to recall if they had ever had any conversations or extended interactions other than some mutual understanding defense against the dark arts was definitely the best class. She'd also have to be blind not to notice he has a nice face, but she's not the type to swoon over someone just for that. No, she needed to get to know people personally...so safe to say she's never had a boyfriend before. Not that she minds, but-

Her thoughts were interrupted by some girls giggling in the little group next to her. About mister mysterious himself. They were talking about his reputation, his appearance, how lucky the people sitting next to him were, yada yada yada. Angelina rolled her eyes. They looked to be fifth years, focused more on the gossip than the food which lay half touched on their plates. Angelina watched them a moment as she sipped her drink, dark eyes focused a bit lazily. They noticed, but she just gave them a polite smile and their giggles turned to whispers. At least they were quiet now. Angelina focused on her food again, slowly working away at her selections from the spread in front of her, debating on if she should just leave like Kingston did. But, she couldn't, responsibilities and all that.

She had just finished her plate when she noticed Kingston walking back to his seat. Which kicks up the giggling all over again, Angelina rolled her eyes. The girls made some snide coming about her weight, blood status, or both, but she paid them not mind, refilling her drink and getting a second serving of a couple things to keep eating her dinner in peace.

 

[roguedaisy]

The castle of Hogwarts was a living, breathing, turning and changing thing, and tonight it hummed with merriment. Laughter bounced through the halls, in symphony with the rattle of suitcases clacking over cobblestone, a reunion was to be had on every stairwell where portraits leaned in curiously and staircases shifted with familiar mischief. The dorms livened with the touch of home every student brought back with them; vibrant colours and trinkets were unpacked, and long rich stories shared. The excitement of the first day back was palpable, and at the heart of it was the mass gathering in the Great Hall. It welcomed pupils with the beam of a thousand floating candles, bathing them in golden warmth under the projection of an enchanted shifting sky. Not to mention the feast they’d been dreaming of all summer, and the promise of friends new and old waiting.

Even from the courtyard, Kelly could pick the familiar waft of a homely dinner, carried down by the gentle evening breeze. Even over the tar of a Malboro Gold cigarette, pluming from the fingers of his friend Macy. It was a scent he took comfort in, though he hadn’t breathed air like this all summer. He turned his head into the breeze, catching a kiss of the night air and a very short lived break the girl’s keen yammering. A pause drew his attention, and he looked back in time to be bombed with a face full of warm smoke.

He scrunched his face, waving away the stink. “You’re a shite.” Kelly grumbled, his furrowed brow unfurling into a smile. For him, this was a term of endearment. Macy met this with a grin, flicking her ash in his direction too.

“And you’re a grumpy teetotaler. Have a drag.” She held the stick towards him, shaking it between two fingers like a carrot on a stick. He shook his head, but couldn’t help drawing in a taste of the tempting scent through his nostrils.

“Can’t. I need to be good this year, I’ve gotta train harder than ever if I want a chance at being scouted for leagues, once this is all over.”

Macy pouted, though her grin had held while he spoke. He knew she meant well, but as a Fifth year and a lazy heiress, he doubted she’d ever considered a reality beyond Hogwarts. She swung the smoke back towards herself. “Boo. I miss when you were fun.”

Kelly scoffed. He folded his arms, leaning into the familiar coolness of the cobblestone. “Yeah? Well you’ll like me more when I’m a TV hotshot, hanging out with all your ex boyfriends.” She snorted at that, and he nudged her with his toe. “C’mon, put that thing out. I’m hungry.”

Macy dragged one last puff out of the cigarette before stubbing it under her Mary Janes and kicking it into the garden. “Yes, let’s have you a warm cup of tea, bowl of soup and a crossword.” She teased. Kelly pushed off the wall and they fell into a languid step beside each other. “Finally, some excitement.” He muttered in jest.

–

As they strode into the Entrance Hall, with many hellos in passing, Kelly spotted one face that gave him pause. It wasn’t so much the face, but the feel he gave, something Kelly could only liken to the awe felt watching a thunderstorm roll in; all you could do was witness this powerful force, one some will fear, one that will mesmerise others. Kingston Christ was heading straight towards them, moving away from the revelry with strong and silent straights, making for the night. Kelly did not realise he was watching him until Kingston caught his eyes. They were not friendly enough for words, neither strangers who would look away. Their history was something shrouded in grey, and for the most part, secrecy. Kelly squinted, stuck on that thought, nagged by a feeling he did not know a word for, begrudgingly curious about where the Slytherin was headed. Kingston gave nothing, while Kelly could be read like a book. As always, it was Kingston who broke the contact first. He continued on as though he’d looked straight through him, seen nothing; maybe this, the people and the culture, the competition and games, all did mean nothing to him. It was the wondering that drove Kelly half mad. His curiosity got the better of his pride, and he glanced over his shoulder to see which way Kingston was headed. He should know better after the last time he tailed the man, though Kelly was too stubborn to lose at anything that was treated like a game.

“Yum.” Macy purred, breaking the spell. Kelly whipped his head forward again, absently responding. “Yeah, smells good.” He agreed flatly. Macy flashed that awful grin, and leaned into his shoulder to gossip. “I wasn’t talking about the feast.” She watched him, goading a reaction, but Kelly only rolled his eyes. Her teasing about Kinsgston was far from personal, or knowing, she was boy crazy. Matter of fact, she was crazy, full stop. The said their goodbyes, and made for their respective tables.

Kelly kept his head down as he weaved through the bustling space, feeling much quieter without his loud companion to do the talking for him. He was an expert at evading moving targets, a skill he found himself thankful for while picking his way through the filled tables. He sidestepped to avoid an elbow being thrown back during a toast, and bumped into a student at the Slytherin table. There was the clatter of cutlery being dropped, or a tankard knocked, he wasn’t too sure. “Oh. Sorry–” He paused, wheeling around to find himself facing Angelina Whisp. A girl he avoided vehemently, not only because she was now Head Girl, but the very same one he knocked off a broomstick and injured all those years ago. Also, a woman who, to phrase it as he'd heard it, hated his guts. Kelly was suddenly aware that he was very late, and reeking of smoke. He sat with his mouth awkwardly agape, the words still stuck in his mouth. His gaze fell to her plate, trying to find something— anything else to look at, only to see he'd spilt her drink across the table, her dinner and her lap.

FireMaiden
Tub2

 

[Tub2]

The start of the year at Hogwarts was always the same. The grand return, the endless chatter, the first-years gawking at the enchanted ceiling like they had never seen the sky before. The professors gave their usual welcome speeches, and the Sorting Hat droned on about unity and perseverance—sentiments that meant nothing to Cambridge Oakley.

Seated at the Slytherin table, she let the excitement of the room fade into white noise, swirling the dark liquid in her goblet with absentminded ease. The sweet burn of firewhiskey coated her throat, disguised under the illusion of something innocent. No one would question her. They never did.

It was the same every year. The professors adored her, convinced she was the model student. The other students worshipped her, drawn to her without knowing why. To some, she was an untouchable beauty. To others, she was a legend, a whispered name at every party worth attending. But to Cambridge? She was just a girl trying to feel something.

She set her goblet down, shifting her gaze to the one person who never fawned over her—Kingston Christ. He sat beside her, silent, a sharp contrast to the lively energy of the hall. He was always quiet, always composed, but tonight was different. His posture was stiff, his jaw locked, his mind obviously elsewhere.

Cambridge tilted her head slightly, studying him.

“You look like you saw a ghost.”

Then, after a beat,

“Or worse—like you just realized we have to survive another year of this hellhole.”

No response.

She exhaled through her nose, leaning back against the bench.

“Right. We’re doing the ‘brooding in silence’ thing again.”

It wasn’t like she expected him to spill his thoughts. She and Kingston weren’t the kind of friends who needed words. They were bound by something unspoken—a shared understanding of what it meant to be untouchable. He was a mystery even to her, but she didn’t push. If he wanted to talk, he would. If he didn’t, well… she had other ways of keeping herself entertained.

Her gaze swept across the Great Hall, cataloging the faces around her. Some familiar, some new, some who would no doubt fall at her feet before the week was over. It always happened. The stolen glances, the lingering stares, the nervous flirting from boys who didn’t understand that she wasn’t some prize to be won.

If only they knew.

Cambridge’s fingers curled slightly around her goblet. If only they knew that no matter how many times they tried, she would never feel anything for them. Not because she didn’t want to. Because she couldn’t.

The hex had ensured that.

She had spent years waiting for something to change, waiting for a spark, for a moment of weakness that never came. At some point, she stopped waiting and accepted the truth—love wasn’t for her. Desire wasn’t for her. She could fake it if she wanted to, lead someone on, let them believe they had a chance. But for what? To feel in control? To break someone just because she could?

No. That wasn’t who she was.

Instead, she chased something else. Distraction. Adrenaline. Chaos. If she couldn’t feel love, she would feel something—and she would drown in it.

She lifted her goblet again, letting the firewhiskey dull the edges of her thoughts. Around her, the Great Hall was alive, the year beginning whether she was ready for it or not. Soon, the night would end, and the real fun would begin.

Parties. Secrets. Lies.

The only things she could ever truly call her own.

Cambridge had been swirling the remnants of her firewhiskey lazily in her goblet when a sharp commotion at the end of of the Slytherin table that made her look up.

Her gaze landed on Kelly. A name she hadn’t thought about in a long time. Not because she had forgotten—Cambridge never forgot anything—but because she had chosen to erase him. And there he was, standing stiffly in front of none other than Angelina, the insufferable Head Girl.

A slow, simmering irritation settled in her chest.

Angelina. Of course.

It wasn’t just that Angelina was Head Girl. It was the way she carried herself, like she was somehow above everyone else. Like the title meant she was better than Cambridge, that she had earned something Cambridge could never touch. It didn’t matter that Cambridge had never wanted to be Head Girl—she was a Prefect, she already ruled this school in her own way. But Angelina’s presence was a constant reminder that someone else had power that wasn’t hers. And Cambridge hated that. Maybe Cambridge did make up a little bit about how she acted, but it felt like it.

Her eyes flicked back to Kelly. He looked different. Harder, sharper, like time had chipped away at whatever softness he used to have. She knew that feeling. And yet, even now, seeing him standing there, something in her curled in on itself.

They had been close once. In another life, before she had drawn a line between herself and everything that could weigh her down. Kelly had been a name she had trusted, a presence she had allowed in.

She barely felt the smirk tug at her lips before it formed. What a pathetic little scene. The former friend, the golden girl, the accidental spectacle. How… unfortunate.

But mostly, how unoriginal.

Cambridge tilted her head slightly, watching, waiting to see how he handled it. Would he bow his head and apologize? Would he let Angelina’s self-righteousness trample over him? Or had he finally learned that there was no point in playing nice in a place like this?

She leaned back against the bench, twirling her goblet between her fingers. She wouldn’t step in. Not yet. This wasn’t her mess. But if Kelly made it interesting? If he proved he was more than the ghost of what she once knew?

Then maybe—just maybe—he’d be worth her time again.

location:

Hogwarts Dining Hall

outfit:

interactions:

FireMaiden (Angelina) & @rougedaisy (Kelly)

Cambridge

Oakley

 

[Daylight Fantasy]

バラ -

Silva Roseus

How the most dangerous thing is to love

How you will heal and you'll rise above

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Hogwarts was the same every year. Coming in every September, sort the new kids, then eventually days would start assimilated into the same old school days filled with magic. It wasn't that big of a deal to Silvia, but he did wish he could travel more in the curriculum; Winter and Summer break certainly wasn't enough. Silvia sat up upright in his seat. The Great Hall was someplace that he saw a lot during his time in Hogwarts and something he could not get old of. However, he could still feel the old timey nostalgia lingering in his chest when he stepped foot into the grand castle of Hogwarts again. The chattering around him did lighten his mood to some capacity; the jolly atmosphere of company did make him feel better. "Man, I can't believe we're starting another year in this castle," Silvia's attention perked up when he heard other students chattering a few seats to the left of him. Intrigued, he started to eavesdrop on them but it didn't last long. They didn't have anything interesting to say. Watching the professors from the corner of his eye, Silvia continued to snooped around his area, eager to hear any drama that his ears could get. The head boy status was no shackle to his curious and free spirited nature. Though, the next time he saw something interesting wasn't with his ears, but with his eyes. The dark hair of Kingston walked out of the grand hall from the Slytherin table. It wasn't hard to know who he is though. Curiosity spiked up in Silvia's mind once again. Though Silvia didn't bother to walk up to him and ask the male what's up, he still wanted in on what's happening. "Hm... perhaps I'll ask him after the ceremony," Silvia mumbled under his breath, resting his back to the chair.

Tub2​

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