Solana stares unblinkingly at the owl pecking at her windowpane, a letter clutched in its beak.
She has expected this day to come, had imagined it countless times, but now that it is here, it feels surreal.
Through the window, dusk has painted the sky in warm shades of orange. Against that glowing backdrop, the owl's silhouette stands out like a shadow. Its feathers are sleek and glossy black, and its large, glowing yellow eyes lock onto hers without blinking.
When she opens the window, the owl glides into the living room with silent grace and perches on the back of a nearby wooden chair. Without hesitation, it opens its beak, and the letter drops to the floor.
Solana bends down to pick it up, her fingers trembling slightly as she examines the envelope.
The envelope is made of thick, creamy parchment, slightly rough to the touch and unmistakably elegant. It is sealed with a deep red wax stamp bearing the Hogwarts crest—four quadrants representing the lion, snake, badger, and eagle, all encircling a bold letter H.
The front of the envelope is addressed in emerald-green ink, written in perfect script:
Miss S. Weasley
East Bedroom, Second Floor
Diggory Residence
Appleby Lane
Ottery St. Catchpole
Devon, England
Seeing the seal and the address, she finally feels like she is not dreaming. Carefully, she opens the letter.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Miss Weasley,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.
Please be advised that all students must report to Platform 9¾ at King's Cross Station no later than 11:00 AM on the above date. The Hogwarts Express will depart promptly.
Should you require assistance with travel arrangements, owl correspondence may be directed to the school, and a member of staff will be in touch.
We look forward to welcoming you to Hogwarts.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Solana reads the letter several times over. Her eyes linger on her name, written in elegant cursive—Miss S. Weasley—and she lets out a quiet sigh.
It seems her secret—the fact that she is Arthur Weasley's illegitimate child—has already been exposed.
She has always known she could not keep this secret from Hogwarts' Quill of Acceptance—an enchanted quill that senses a child's magical essence and inscribes their true name into the Book of Admittance. Still, seeing her real name written out before her leaves her intrigued.
Solana sighs again. She is certain that Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, being close to the Weasleys, will inform them of her existence—if he hasn't already. She doesn't even want to imagine how Molly Weasley and her children would react when they discover that Arthur Weasley's past mistake has come back into the light after eleven long years.
So be it, she thought, a wave of resignation washing over her. No matter how much her existence might disrupt the peace of the Weasley family, she knew it was not her fault for being born. The mistake was Arthur's, and Solana had no intention of carrying the shame of simply existing.
Solana's soul does not belong to this world. In the year 2025, after dying from illness at the age of sixteen, she transmigrated into the body of a five-year-old orphan living in a dilapidated orphanage. Merging with the girl allowed her to access the girl's memories, and through them she discovered something important: the original owner of the body had kept a letter, left by her mother when she abandoned her at the orphanage's doorstep as an infant.
The girl was clever, and with the desperate desire to understand what the letter said, she had taught herself to read at an unusually early age.
The letter read:
To Whom It May Concern,
If you are reading this, then you have found the child. I leave her here out of desperation…and fear. Please understand—I cannot raise her.
I am an illegal Korean–Japanese immigrant, surviving on what little of myself remains. I've been with many men to escape poverty—too many to count. But I know, I know, who the father is.
It was the red-haired demon.
He called himself Arthur Weasley. He was drunk when he came to me. What unsettled me wasn't my first impression of him—it was what happened afterward. After spending the night with him, I saw him wave a piece of wood—a stick—and things moved. He must be a demon! He must be! I wasn't hallucinating.
I ran. I ran so fast I left my shoes behind. I never saw him again.
Months later, when I gave birth alone in my flat, every candle went out. My mirror cracked without reason. And when I saw the infant's bright red hair, I knew—it was the spawn of the red-haired demon I had fled from.
I tried to love her. I did. But I can't. She isn't normal. Maybe you'll say I'm insane. Maybe I am.
Do what you will with her, but I beg you—be careful. There is something unnatural in her blood.
Forgive me.
— M.
Recalling the contents of the letter, Solana doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. She had been an orphan in her past life, and now she is one once more. The only difference is that this time she knows who her father is.
Just as she is lost in thought, a gentle warmth presses against the crown of her head. Startled, she turns—and finds herself looking up into the handsome, smiling face of Cedric Diggory, his hand resting lightly atop her hair, his sturdy frame so close behind her it nearly envelops her.
Solana smiles back at him, her eyes narrowing like a contented cat, her dimples deepening as they appear.
When Solana had been lying sick in bed in her previous life, reading the Harry Potter series had been one of her favorite pastimes. In hindsight, she feels that the book's description of Cedric Diggory hadn't done him justice.
Cedric is tall and broad-shouldered, with the athletic build of a seasoned Quidditch player. His dark hair is thick and windswept, and his gray eyes are strikingly clear, giving him an open, trustworthy appearance. His features are strong and symmetrical—straight nose, sharp jawline—making him effortlessly handsome.
Cedric carries himself with quiet confidence. He doesn't boast or seek attention, yet people notice him when he enters a room. His posture is straight, his movements purposeful but relaxed. He has a way of making people feel at ease in his presence, his smile warm and unassuming, though there's always a glint of playful charm behind it.
Cedric radiates a kind of steady, grounding energy—warmth that feels both protective and uplifting. It's hard to imagine him hating anybody. He's the sort of person whose approval feels like sunlight, and whose disappointment cuts deeper than any harsh words.
For six years, she has been living in the Diggory household. Solana is grateful to be welcomed into their home, no longer forced to endure the inhumane, dilapidated orphanage that treated orphans as nothing more than society's burdens.
The original owner of this body lived a harsh life in the orphanage. Being raised in an atmosphere of fear, control, and religious fanaticism, she was treated like a disgusting monster the moment she started to display instances of accidental magic. In order to not starve or be beaten to death, she was forced to suppress her magic.
Over time, her spirit fractured, turning her into an Obscurial almost on the verge of wrecking havoc. It was at that fragile moment that Solana's soul descended, merging with her fractured soul.
Over time, her spirit fractured, driving her to the edge of becoming an Obscurial, her power nearly destroying her from within. It was at that moment of collapse that Solana's soul descended, fusing with the girl's shattered essence. Solana was able to dissipate the years of accumulated, suppressed emotional energy from the auric field of the girl's heart, saving her life.
However, some damage had been unavoidable. Half the orphanage was destroyed, and many Muggles had witnessed the entire scene. The incident quickly alerted the Aurors.
At the time, Amos Diggory happened to be nearby and was quickly summoned to the scene.
She still remembers that day vividly. The orphanage had been in ruins, the air thick with the residue of her near outburst. She had sat trembling in the wreckage, still wrapping her mind around the fact that she transmigrated into someone else's body—a child with a weird, berserking power that almost ended her life had she not handled it in time.
Then she saw a large, steady hand extend toward her. Instead of fear or condemnation, Amos crouched down before her, his voice calm and kind: "Easy now, child. You're safe." The storm inside her quieted at once, soothed by the warmth of his aura. Solana could read emotions by sensing, seeing, and feeling the energy around a person's heart. From Amos, she felt a steady orange glow—concern mingled with protectiveness.
That was the moment everything changed. She had been taken into the Diggory home to stay and recuperate. Everyone Amos knew told him he was crazy, insisting it was a mistake to take in an Obscurial. To them, Solana was a ticking time bomb that is bound to go berserk sooner or later. She was doomed to die young.
But Amos hadn't listened. He said he saw strength in her and believed she would make it.
It had been six years since that day.
Not only had her Obscurus never gone berserk, but she had defied every grim prediction and lived a strong, healthy life.
"Hello, my little sunshine," Cedric says gently, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "What are you reading so intently?"
Solana pauses, then forces a smile, her grip tightening around the envelope. Cedric still doesn't know about her Weasley bloodline. She had meant to tell him on her very first day in the Diggory home, but the warmth he and his father gave her had felt so good that she kept postponing. Now, with the secret threatening to surface, she knows she can't hide it any longer.
If they find out the truth, there is a chance they might send her to the Weasley house. She has always known that one day she would have to leave, but the thought still leaves her with a sinking feeling in her chest.
Solana knows that the longer she stays, the more of a financial burden she becomes. Although Amos is a middle-class government official, Hogwarts supplies: wands, robes, books, potion ingredients—are costly enough for Cedric alone. She doesn't want to weigh Amos down any more than she already has.
"I just received my acceptance letter from Hogwarts," she said softly, lowering her gaze to hide the flicker of guilt.
Cedric watches her a moment too long. She doesn't need to see his aura to know he sensed she's hiding something.
In truth, she can't read him at all. Unlike everyone else, his heart shows no energetic patterns, no waves of color.
At first, the absence had frightened her. But over the past six years, Cedric never gave up. He found countless ways to approach her, his persistence chipping away at her defenses. And like a stray, aggressive cat that slowly softens under daily care and kindness, she too had surrendered.
"Congratulations. I knew you would be accepted," he says at last, a warm smile softening his face. Yet his eyes remain unreadable. He extends his hand, palm open. "Let me see the letter. I can give you my old first-year books if there's overlap."
Noticing her tense reaction, he quickly softens his tone. His hands cup her face, their foreheads nearly touching. "What's wrong, Sol?" he asks, his gaze intent on hers. "You know you can tell me anything. No consequences."
Solana blinks rapidly, struggling to meet his eyes. She can feel his warm breath against her skin, the heat of his palms burning on her cheeks. Her ears flush red, her breath catching in her throat.
Merlin's beard! My heart is skipping a beat for a fourteen-year-old boy?! She screams internally in disbelief.
Cedric's tendency to be physically close is something she still hasn't gotten used to. All the more so because, in her past life, she had never been this close to anyone. During her first two years living with him, she would always run from his touch. Now, although she no longer pulls away, her heart still skips a beat against her will.
"Hm? My little Sol? Won't you tell me?"
Cedric prompts her softly, his low, intimate tone the same one he always used to get what he wants—from little children to the elderly, no one ever resists him for long. His hand moves to tuck an unruly strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb and forefinger lingering to gently knead her earlobe in slow motion, sending goosebumps racing down her neck. Solana shrinks into herself like a startled turtle.
Uggh… forget it.
Resigned, she hands him the letter, her cheeks flushed hot from the overwhelming closeness.