Chapter Text
In the quiet shadows of her family’s legacy, Noctua Elara Peverell Selwyn Slytherin lived not just as an heiress to ancient bloodlines but as someone destined for more than any ancestor ever anticipated. Her story, like the lives of those before her, began with secrets, but unlike them, her path would change the very course of history.
August 25th, 2023.
The smell of sunflowers from her mother's favorite section of the gardens filled the air, overwhelming Noctua's sensitive nose as she basked in the sun, losing herself within the patches of flowers throughout the castle's gardens. It felt like the first time this summer that the warmth had found her, a rare comfort, a fleeting moment of peace.
"Nocttie," came a voice behind her, rich and velvety, pulling her from her reverie.
That voice—
The voice that made Noctua's heart race against her will.
A shiver ran down Noctua's spine, betraying the calm she tried so hard to maintain. Her heart already gave her away the moment she turned around, lips parting involuntarily. His eyes found hers the instant she faced him, his soul-staring gaze unwavering and intense. With each passing second, her face grew hotter, embarrassment mingling with a rush of emotions she couldn't explain. Her vision blurred as tears threatened to spill, an overwhelming tide of feelings beyond her control.
"Yoongi," his name always rolled deliciously off her tongue, like a secret she wasn't supposed to share.
His lips curved up at the corners, his gaze still steady, both of them standing amidst a garden full of flowers. The wind gently brushed against them, making her hair sway to one side, adding to the surreal moment.
"How have you been?" he asked.
A simple question, but the answer was far from simple. All summer, no matter how hard she tried, Noctua couldn't stop thinking about him. Her thoughts always circled back to Yoongi—her best friend since day one, since the Hogwarts Express.
How could she possibly tell him that she had gotten nothing done because he ran tirelessly through her mind, from dawn till dusk?
She couldn't.
Their mothers' friendship had only added layers to their history together. Noctua had been presented to Yoongi when they were mere babies, being brought to play dates by their mothers. And yet, it wasn't supposed to happen. Let alone anything beyond friendship was supposed to happen.
"The Min family do not belong to the same social circle as us, Nocttie," her mother had said gently, her voice laced with affection when Noctua had dared to request Yoongi's presence at her official birthday celebration, not just the secondary gathering the day after. "You are to take your place as Lady Peverell in the Wizengamot years after you graduate from Hogwarts. Your father has been eager to retire for quite some time now. You must focus on someone who is a suitable match for a marriage alliance."
Her mother, Lady Selwyn, understood all too well the importance of marriage as a political strategy.
The Peverells were known for their neutrality, especially during the war under Dumbledore's leadership of the Light. After all, the Elder Wand—a Peverell family heirloom—had been stolen by Dumbledore in his youth, claimed with infuriating entitlement alongside his friend Grindelwald. What hypocrisy. In response, the Peverell family had turned a cold shoulder, firmly declaring their neutrality throughout the conflict.
Her mother's family history, however, painted a far darker picture. If someone cared to dig deep enough, they would unearth records of Silvanus Selwyn, a disgraced pureblood, famously sacked by Evangeline Peverell, née Peverell, whose husband's name had faded into obscurity—lost to history in the event of taking Evangeline's last name, some type 19th-century feminist icon who refused to continue his surname's line. But more recent history bore the darker stain of Alecto Selwyn, a Death Eater from the first wizarding war who swore undying loyalty to the Dark Lord and paid the ultimate price. His son, Mortimer Selwyn, Heir Selwyn, followed in his father's footsteps and perished before even setting foot in Azkaban again, passing the title of Heir Selwyn to her mother, Elara, the last surviving branch of the family after her own parents had perished during the war.
Elara Peverell, née Selwyn, would certainly understand the need for strategic marriages.
Noctua's mind could grasp this in theory, but her heart... her heart was playing with fire.
"I've... I've been well," she managed, forcing a smile for what felt like the first time this summer, now that he was finally standing in front of her.
His eyes softened, a flicker of relief washing over his features. "Good," he murmured, stepping closer. "I've missed you."
The words lingered between them, heavy with unspoken emotions. Noctua's heart stuttered, the closeness making her breath falter. She swallowed, struggling to keep her composure.
"I've missed you too," she confessed, her voice barely audible.
His smile came slowly, reaching his eyes, and her chest tightened. "Feels strange, doesn't it? Not seeing you every day," he said, his tone light, though his gaze held something deeper.
"Yeah," she managed, her lips curving into a small smile. "I'm... really glad to see you."
His eyes softened further. "Ready for another year at Hogwarts?" he asked, a bit more playfully now, though the question seemed to hold more weight than usual.
She nodded, her heart still racing. "Fifth year already. Kind of hard to believe."
"Time flies," he agreed, his eyes tracing her face as if memorizing it. "Feels like we were just first years, wandering around trying to figure everything out."
Noctua let out a soft laugh, the memory making her smile for real this time. "You mean you getting lost on the way to Potions?"
He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. "Hey, those dungeons are confusing."
They stood there for a moment, the silence between them comfortable yet charged with everything left unsaid. The sunflowers swayed gently in the breeze, as though the world itself was holding its breath.
"Do you think this year will be unbearable?" Yoongi's voice, barely louder than a whisper, cut through the stillness. They were far from the bustle of the manor—the house-elves working quietly, their mothers gossiping over tea on the terrace. Even during peaceful times, the magical world always had its undercurrents of chaos.
Noctua kept her voice low, as if raising it might shatter the tranquility. "I know the OWLs will swallow all our time, but didn't we already start studying Transfiguration and Potions up to fifth year?"
Yoongi's gaze shifted fully to her, his attention undivided. "Do you really think we can become Animagi?"
"I do. If not this year, then next. After all, selling prank products would be so much easier."
Yoongi threw his head back, laughter spilling out and filling the sunflower field. His gummy smile shone under the sunlight. "I knew it! We both got the letter."
Noctua beamed, pleased that her suspicions were finally confirmed. "It wouldn't be Hogwarts without a little healthy abuse of prefect privileges, would it?"
"Ugh, don't remind me of Abernathy. She might've graduated, but I still hate her," Yoongi muttered with disdain, recalling the former prefect with a knack for visiting their bathroom.
Their reputation had already spread in certain circles at Hogwarts, especially among the more rebellious students. The infamous girls' bathroom on the second floor had become their unofficial headquarters for deals, trades, and sales. Need a self-correcting quill? Skiving Snackboxes? A low-level Amortentia or even Polyjuice Potion? Yoongi and Noctua could provide it. Most of the potions they sold were brewed by the pair, rivaling even the best in their class—Ophelia Flint, who seemed to get an 'O' on every Potions assignment.
Before they could continue, a pop broke the peaceful stillness around them.
Noctua's personal house elf appeared in front of them, eyes wide and bright. "Young mistress! Mr. Min! Lady Selwyn requests your presence in the floo room," Morta declared solemnly before snapping her fingers and disappearing, leaving them in the middle of the garden.
"How very formal," Yoongi remarked as Noctua turned, facing the grand manor.
Noctua shrugged, knowing her mother would disapprove of Morta's dramatic delivery. As they walked along the stone path toward one of the back doors, which led through the kitchen, she couldn't help but feel a quiet unease. This door wasn't often used by the family—only the house elves frequented it.
Noctua still wasn't entirely sure Yoongi would come. Her mother had initially suggested she invite Ophelia Flint, or perhaps Daphne Parkinson or Thalia Rosier, to spend the afternoon. Any one of them would've pleased her mother—Ophelia especially, as an heiress in her own right. Daphne and Thalia came from old Wizengamot families as well, though that hadn't seemed to matter until this year. Now, with Noctua soon to be formally presented to the Wizengamot after completing her OWLs, it mattered more than ever.
The manor, despite its grandeur, had an undeniable sense of warmth and homeliness. As Noctua led Yoongi through the familiar halls toward the kitchen, they passed several house elves, who waved cheerfully at their young mistress. They were happily munching on misshapen pastries, enjoying the same tea her parents drank. It always amused Noctua to see her parents' subtle nods to house elf rights. Maybe it was a matter of principles—or perhaps just staying in Minister Granger's good graces. With her parents, it was difficult to tell.
The floo room, close to the manor's main wing, was typically decorated for formal events and the grand arrival of guests. Noctua distinctly remembered her mother redecorating it before a Yule Ball, a determined gleam in her eyes as she arranged her father's Unspeakable medals and achievements on one side, along with framed Daily Prophet articles and donation certificates on the other. They served as a proud testament to the restored honor of the House of Selwyn.
"Our family name is renowned," her mother had once told her, the words as precise as the meticulous placement of the items on the wall. "But reminders, tangible proof, are always nice to display for occasions of importance."
As Noctua climbed the narrow stairs toward the main wing, excitement bubbled up inside her, threatening to spill over. Her mother had promised her a special reward for becoming a prefect—after the Diagon Trip, which could only mean a family heirloom, right?
Noctua's thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sight of her mother and Mrs. Min, both standing by the floo with impeccable posture—so rigid, they might have had invisible strings pulling them up by their backs and necks. Their conversation seemed polite, but Noctua could tell it was simply to pass time, rather than a meaningful exchange. They wouldn't discuss anything of importance with her, and Yoongi was present, after all.
"I believe now is a good time to go," her mother remarked, her gaze flicking discreetly over to Noctua, subtly inspecting her attire. After a brief moment, a glimmer of approval passed through her eyes.
Noctua had chosen something safe for the occasion—a sky-blue blouse paired with a flowing black maxi skirt and her favorite leather boots, all beneath a black robe emblazoned with both the Peverell and Selwyn family crests on her left lapel. It was simple yet appropriate, nothing extravagant.
Mrs. Min smiled, accepting the pouch of floo powder from Grimble, the ever-cheerful house elf who lived up to his duties despite the rather gloomy implications of his name. Even though this event happened annually, it always felt meticulously orchestrated—except for this year, as her father was notably absent due to a project at the Department of Mysteries. He'd been preoccupied with cataloging and returning magical portraits, providing no further details beyond that. It seemed to consume all his time.
Mrs. Min was first to step into the green flames, followed by Yoongi. As Noctua approached the floo, her mother gently placed a hand on her shoulder, halting her.
"Before we go, Nocttie dearest," her mother said, her voice soft and warm, the same soothing tone she had used when Noctua was little—after nightmares or when dealing with 'big feelings,' as her mother called them. The comfort in her mother's voice brought a sense of ease, if only for a moment.
Noctua watched curiously as her mother opened her purse, summoning something with a flick of her hand, and what appeared next left her momentarily speechless. In her mother's hand was a small, gleaming object, circular in shape and glowing like polished gold. It was intricately engraved with the Selwyn coat of arms and unfamiliar runes, inked in a dark brown that added an ancient, imposing aura to it.
Carefully, Noctua accepted the object, turning it over in her hands. It fit perfectly in her palm. With cautious fingers, she opened it to reveal a compass. Yet, its hands were missing, leaving only the cardinal points marked on the face.
She glanced up at her mother, confusion evident on her face, but her mother's expression radiated amusement and pride.
"It's an enchanted compass," her mother explained. "It always points toward the holder's deepest desire or goal. A Selwyn family heirloom, passed down from when we first entered the Wizengamot centuries ago."
Noctua's eyes widened in astonishment as she cradled the compass with new reverence. "Does it really...?" she asked, hesitant to believe such an extraordinary claim.
Her mother chuckled softly, a sound both elegant and warm. "All you have to do is focus on a goal or desire, and the hands will appear." She gently placed the floo powder pouch into Noctua's hand. "But you can experiment later, darling. If we take any longer, our friends will start to wonder what's become of us."
Noctua nodded, her mind now buzzing with thoughts of the compass and its possibilities as she stepped toward the floo.
"Diagon Alley!"
The Leaky Cauldron buzzed with energy as Noctua stepped out of the floo, brushing the soot from her robe and taking in the lively scene. Just ahead, she spotted Yoongi and his mother amidst the growing crowd. As was typical for this time of year, the Hogwarts letters had arrived late, leaving less than two weeks for school shopping. Families were scrambling to get the best supplies, their urgency palpable in the cramped space.
This year, the school had the added complication of finding a temporary Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Professor Braun was on sabbatical, leaving a one-year vacancy that had students secretly whispering about the possibility of another dramatic disaster. Noctua smirked to herself at the thought. Was it cruel to hope for some chaos in the search for a replacement? Probably. But, in her mind, it only made the school year more interesting.
The curse on the DADA position may have died with Voldemort, but the legend of the cursed post had lived on. Students—raised on tales of rotating professors and epic duels—found the stability of having the same professor year after year to be painfully mundane. Normalcy was for the unimaginative, after all.
Noctua mused briefly on how old Voldemort had been when he was defeated. Not quite as ancient as Dumbledore, but close enough. Dark wizards, it seemed, liked to linger.
Then her gaze fell on Yoongi, who was standing with a deep scowl etched on his face. His eyes were fixed on something—or someone—unblinking and troubled. Noctua followed his gaze, only to land on two younger students standing just a few feet away.
Jimin Park, who would be starting his third year this fall, stood awkwardly in front of Yoongi, his expression torn between confusion and irritation. And beside him...
Oh.
Taemin Lee.
August 31st, 2023.
“Grimble!” Morta bellowed, her voice ringing through the room. “You is forgetting Young Mistress’s potion book!”
Noctua watched the scene unfold as if she were a mere observer. Morta and Grimble, the two of the house-elves bound to the Peverell-Selwyn family, were bustling about the room, carefully packing her belongings into her deluxe school trunk. The trunk was engraved with her initials—N.E.P.S.—and enchanted with an extra compartment capable of holding an entire bookshelf’s worth of books. The extension charm placed on it ensured that even her broom could vanish inside with ease.
The house elves worked with a kind of practiced efficiency that made Noctua feel unnecessary in her own preparations. Morta’s movements were graceful, if a bit frantic, while Grimble carefully tucked each item into place with the precision of someone who had done this many times before. The trunk was quickly filling with neatly folded robes, textbooks, and various magical supplies.
Noctua leaned against the doorway, a bittersweet sense of nostalgia washing over her. Each item packed reminded her that her summer was coming to an end. The last two weeks since her trip to Diagon Alley had flown by, and now, on the eve of her departure for Hogwarts, the reality of another year at school was setting in.
Across the room, Retsy, her owl, fluttered restlessly atop her perch, watching the house elves with as much interest as Noctua herself. Every now and then, the bird would hoot softly, as if trying to ensure that no important items were left behind.
“Retsy, calm down,” Noctua said with a soft laugh, her voice barely cutting through the rhythmic rustle of parchment and robes. She moved forward, scratching the owl gently behind the head. “They’ve got it under control.”
Retsy ruffled her feathers as if in disagreement, her wide, intelligent eyes continued to follow Morta and Grimble’s every movement.
“Grimble, make sure Mistress has enough parchment for her studies,” Morta instructed as she placed a stack of pristine rolls into the trunk.
“Yes, Grimble on it,” Grimble replied, his large eyes darting toward the pile of books that still needed to be packed.
Noctua’s gaze wandered toward the clock on the wall. Time had slipped away from her, and now there were only hours left before she’d be boarding the Hogwarts Express once again. The excitement was there, bubbling beneath the surface, but so was the unease. Fifth year at Hogwarts would be different—it felt more significant, somehow, as if the path forward would be filled with challenges she couldn’t yet predict.
Still, there was a quiet thrill in the thought of seeing her friends again. Yoongi, Taemin, Jimin, and the others. What mischief would they get up to this year?
As her mind drifted, Morta and Grimble continued their work with practiced care, placing each item exactly where it belonged in the expansive trunk. Potions ingredients, ink bottles, quills—everything found its place. Retsy, now settled atop Noctua’s neatly folded robes, watched with a keen, almost approving eye.
“You is needing anything else, Young Mistress?” Morta asked, her large eyes shining with pride at the nearly completed packing.
Noctua shook her head. “No, Morta, that’ll do. Thank you, both of you.”
Grimble gave a small bow, his expression humble. “Grimble and Morta is happy to help Young Mistress.”
As the two elves made the final adjustments to her trunk, Noctua felt the weight of the moment settles over her. Tomorrow, she would be on her way to Hogwarts, her trunk packed with the essentials and her mind filled with thoughts of the year ahead. Retsy gave a soft hoot, breaking the silence, and Noctua smiled, scratching her owl’s head once more.
“You ready for another year at Hogwarts, Retsy?” she asked, knowing the answer even before the owl hooted in agreement.
As the evening light dimmed and shadows lengthened across the room, Noctua took one last look at the packed trunk and the carefully arranged supplies. The preparations were complete, and tomorrow would come soon enough. The thought of stepping onto the Hogwarts Express, of seeing the familiar castle and the faces of her friends, filled her with a renewed sense of anticipation.
With a final glance toward Morta and Grimble, who were now tidying the room, she turned toward her bed, ready to rest before the adventures of fifth year began. The house elves finished their work in silence, their small hands moving with care as they prepared for another year of serving their young mistress.
Tomorrow, everything would begin again.