Celestia Eleanor Young is the newest generation of the Pure-blood Young family of Singapore. The Young Clan has the power of a monarchy and the wealth of a first-world country.
Not only does she have to prove herself to her family that she's capable...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
▪️⬜️▪️
"PLEASEEEE I CAN'T GO ALONE!!!!!! NO OTHER SLYTHERIN HAS EVER SHOWN THEIR FACE TO FLINT AFTER THEIR FIRST AND ONLY REJECTION!!!"
"LET GO BLAISE!!! GET OFF THE DAMN FLOOR!!"
Blaise is kneeling down on the ground, his iron grip clutching my hands. I yell at him, kick him—even spit on him—yet he still won't let go and stand up. The Quidditch tryouts for the Slytherin team is after classes today, and although he has spent a lot of time over the summer practicing his skills, he's still terrified.
"Tia, just say that you'll go with him so he can shut up," Daphne mutters, hands cupping her ears as she hanged upside down on her bed.
Blaise, the one true gentleman of our friend group, had crashed open our dorm room and immediately slid to his knees in front of my bed and started begging me to go to the tryouts with him so he wouldn't have to bear the shame alone. The other girls ran out, calling him ill-mannered and a "pervert" for busting in our dorm like that. Regardless of what he did, I still hexed them all and they tumbled down the stairs like dominos.
"Just get up, Blaise! Go to breakfast or something!"
"Not until you say yes!"
I don't have the heart in me to hex him. He's just too pure for it, to be frank. "Alright—fine. Fine! Fine, I'll go. Just piss off for now and I'll meet you after lunch."
Not even exaggerating, Blaise bounces up into the air and starts cheering and dancing and singing the national Italian anthem. He quickly kissed my and Daphne's forehead before cartwheeling out of the damn dorm.
"Good Merlin." Daphne breathes out, putting on her robes. "You don't think that kid got ahold of Parkinson's 'fairydust', do you?"
"Please, as if he would ever take it alone without the rest of us."
▫️▪️▫️
"Intriguing, isn't it?"
"No," I say, flatly. Many students around me giggles. Our newest D.A.D.A. professor, Professor Lupin, didn't seem to mind though, as he also chuckles.
We were learning about boggarts who apparently take form of our deepest fears. I was incredibly interested in learning it—or rather, reviewing the subject since I already learnt it over the summer—because when I think about the concept of "fear", truly nothing comes to mind. We also then learned the spell ridikulus, to shift the "fear" into something amusing.
One by one, the students steps into a queue and waited for their own turns. That Longbottom kid's boggart was Snape and he shifted his swaying robes into a chic old lady's clothes. Weasley's was a gigantic spider and he gave him roller skates. Soon, it was my turn.
