"Harry did you hear we are receiving a exchange student? She comes from America!" Ron said excitedly while half done chewing his chicken drum stick.
Harry looked up from his own plate. The Great Hall was its usual evening chaos — floating candles, the low roar of hundreds of conversations, and the smell of roast chicken and gravy hanging thick in the air. Further down the Gryffindor table, Fred and George were trying to convince a first-year that the potatoes could sing if you poked them the right way.
"An exchange student?" Harry repeated. "From where in America?"
"Ilvermorny," Hermione said promptly, reaching for the water jug. She had clearly been waiting for someone to ask. "It's their main wizarding school. I read about it over the summer. They're supposed to be very practical. Less formal than Beauxbatons, more… hands-on than here."
Ron swallowed the rest of his mouthful.
"You always talk so fancy, couldn't you just say they are better then us?" Ron said while looking at her.
Hermione frowned.
"That isn't what I said at all, Ronald. I said they emphasise practical magic. It doesn't mean they're better."
"Sounds like better to me," Ron muttered, reaching for the potatoes. "Practical's just a posh way of saying they actually know how to do stuff instead of writing essays about it."
Harry hid a small smile behind his goblet. The argument was familiar enough to be comforting. Around them the Hall carried on as usual — cutlery clinking, owls still delivering a few late letters, the floating candles drifting lazily overhead.
"What's her name, then?" Harry asked before Hermione could start a full lecture on educational philosophy.
No one seemed to know who the visiting girl would be. But discussion had already started at every table in the great hall.
Harry glanced around. At the Ravenclaw table a group of older students were leaning in close, one of them sketching something on a napkin. The Hufflepuffs looked mostly curious. Further down the Gryffindor bench Fred and George had abandoned the first-year entirely and were taking quiet bets with Lee Jordan. Even the Slytherins had gone quieter than usual, which was rarely a good sign.
"Someone must know," Ron said, spearing a roast potato. "McGonagall's been looking at the doors all evening like she's expecting a hippogriff to walk in."
Hermione followed his gaze to the staff table. Professor McGonagall sat stiff-backed, her eyes flicking toward the entrance every few minutes. Dumbledore appeared perfectly calm, as usual. Snape looked as if the entire concept of exchange students personally offended him.
At the professors table, The headmaster Albus Dumbledore suddenly stood up and walked to his podium. Without him having to do anything the whole hall went quiet. All expecting to hear something about this student visiting.
The floating candles seemed to steady themselves. Even the usual clatter of cutlery faded until the only sound left was the soft rustle of banners high above the tables. Hundreds of faces turned toward the staff table.
Dumbledore smiled the mild little smile that never quite told anyone what he was thinking.
"Another year continues apace," he began, his voice carrying effortlessly to every corner of the Hall. "Exams are almost over, very good efforts so far. the gardens are in full bloom, and the giant squid has once again taken to sunbathing near the boats — a sure sign that summer is nearly upon us."
A few soft laughs broke the tension. Ron snorted into his goblet.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
"However, we also have the pleasure of welcoming a visitor. For a short time, Hogwarts will play host to a student from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in North America. I ask that you make her feel welcome, offer what help you can, and — as always — attempt to set an example that will not require me to write too many lengthy letters of explanation."
More laughter, stronger this time. Even a few of the Slytherins smirked.
Dumbledore lifted one hand slightly.
The doors to the great hall opened.
"Her name is Ophelia Grindelwald."
The name landed like a stone dropped into still water.
Everyone turned to the now wide open doors.
For a heartbeat the Great Hall was completely still.
Ophelia Grindelwald stood in the entrance.
She was not tall, and she was not dressed in Hogwarts black. Deep blue and red marked her out at once as foreign. A blindfold covered her eyes, a small golden emblem stitched at the centre. Her black hair was pulled back simply.
A low, collective sound moved through the Hall — not quite a gasp, not quite a murmur. Somewhere near the Slytherin table a goblet was set down too hard. At the Ravenclaw table a quill scratched, then stopped. Even Fred and George, further down the Gryffindor bench, had nothing to say.
Professor McGonagall was already moving toward the doors. She spoke a few quiet words. The girl inclined her head once in reply. Then, together, they began the long walk along the side of the Hall toward the staff table.
Every head turned to follow them.
Harry watched, the forgotten taste of pumpkin juice still in his mouth. The name Grindelwald seemed to hang in the air like smoke. He had seen it in books, heard it in the low, careful voices adults used when they thought children were not listening. Gellert Grindelwald. The dark wizard Dumbledore had defeated. The one whose war had come before Voldemort's. And now his granddaughter was walking past the Gryffindor table as calmly as if she were arriving for an ordinary detention.
Ron's voice was barely a whisper.
"That's her?"
Hermione did not answer. Her eyes were fixed on the girl with an intensity Harry usually only saw when she was facing a particularly difficult bit of magic.
Ophelia Grindelwald did not look left or right, yet Harry could have sworn she was aware of every stare. When she reached the staff table, Dumbledore rose and smiled as though this were nothing more remarkable than a visit from an old colleague. He gestured to the empty chair that had been waiting. She sat, folded her hands in her lap, and gave the Hall a single, measured nod.
Only then did the noise return — low, urgent, and spreading fast.
"Grindelwald," someone muttered behind Harry. "Did he really say Grindelwald?"
"Must be a different family—"
"There isn't another family—"
"She's blind—"
"She's from Durmstrang as well, I heard—"
Ron turned fully to Harry, face pale under his freckles.
"Harry… that's not normal, is it? Even for this place?"
Harry looked back at the staff table. Ophelia Grindelwald sat between Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore, posture straight, blindfold fixed, as the floating candles cast soft light across a face that gave almost nothing away.
"No," Harry said quietly. "It isn't."
The Great Hall had welcomed many strange things over the years.
Something told him this one would not pass quietly.
That evening the common rooms where filled with chatter and discussions about the visitor.
"Its her. She is actually here!" Fred shouted out.
All the others around them had heard it thousands of times how they had talked with her back during the school championship in south America.
All the others around them had heard it thousands of times how they had talked with her back during the school championship in South America. George was already perched on the arm of a chair, grinning like Christmas had come early. Lee Jordan kept saying "the blind girl with the giant" as if trying to convince himself. A crowd of younger Gryffindors pressed in, demanding details for the tenth time about the tournament, the tree monster, and whether she had really blasted someone's arm half off.
Harry sat near the fireplace with Ron and Hermione, still trying to process the fact that the same girl was now under the same roof.
The portrait hole swung open.
Professor McGonagall stepped through first, lips pursed in her usual no-nonsense line. Behind her came Ophelia Grindelwald, still in her Ilvermorny colours, blindfold fixed, hands loosely at her sides. The common room went quiet so fast the fire itself seemed to crackle louder.
McGonagall surveyed the crowded room.
"As you are all clearly incapable of discussing anything else this evening, I thought it best to settle the matter directly. Miss Grindelwald will be with us for a short time. She has agreed to answer a few sensible questions. You will remain civil. You will not ask anything rude, invasive, or spectacularly foolish. Am I understood?"
A chorus of "Yes, Professor" followed, some more sincere than others.
McGonagall stepped aside.
"Miss Grindelwald."
Ophelia took a single step forward. Even without visible eyes she seemed to take in the room — the fire, the worn armchairs, the staircases leading to the dormitories, the dozens of staring faces.
"Evening," she said. Her voice was calm, lightly accented, and carried easily. "I'm Ophelia. Most people just call me Fila. I'm from Ilvermorny, spent the last few months at Durmstrang, and I'm here for a short visit." She said with a smile.
Fred couldn't help himself.
"You remember us?" he asked.
Fila smiled. "Of course I do, Fred and George. I took a dung bomb from you."
The tension in the room eased a fraction. Someone snorted. A first-year near the back whispered, "She really is blind," and was immediately elbowed.
Hermione edged a little closer, curiosity written all over her face.
"You're staying in the guest quarters, aren't you? Will you be joining any classes?"
"Some," Fila answered. "Depends what's interesting. I'm not here to collect essay marks."
Ron muttered, "Lucky you," just loud enough for Harry to hear.
A fifth-year near the window found their courage.
"Do you like Hogwarts so far? Compared to Ilvermorny?" he asked and everyone looked at her for her response.
Fila tilted her head slightly, as if giving the question real thought.
"It's warmer," she said. "Quieter in some ways. Louder in others. Ilvermorny feels more… open. More forest and sky. Hogwarts feels like the stones themselves are paying attention. Not better or worse. Just different." She paused. "The food's better than Durmstrang. That's an easy win."
A proper ripple of laughter moved through the common room. Even McGonagall's mouth twitched before she controlled it.
She answered a couple more questions before going out of the tower. During her whole time there she had paid close attention to the little Harry. She didn't see anything on him. His magic had the color Blue, and it seemed calm not fully developed yet as one would assume.
"So what do you think of the first house?" professor McGonagall asked while walking down one of the moving stairs.
Fila smiled, "Its an interesting bunch, I see why they are all sorted into the same house. Except for one of them, the little girl sitting with Harry. Whats her name?"
The professor thought for a moment, "Ah, you must think of little Hermoine. Why do you say that?"
Fila walked beside her as the staircase shifted and resettled with a low mechanical groan.
"She seemed so… aware." Fila said. "The others react. She thinks. There's a difference. Gryffindor's supposed to be courage and nerve, but that girl looks like she'd rather win by knowing more than everyone else in the room. Not a bad thing. Just… different flavour."
McGonagall's lips pressed into a thin line that might have been disapproval or reluctant agreement.
"Miss Granger is the brightest student in her year. The Sorting Hat took nearly four minutes with her. I am told it considered Ravenclaw quite seriously."
"That fits." Fila tilted her head slightly, listening to the castle around them — the distant voices, the creak of old wood, the soft pulse of ambient magic in the walls. "Does harry do well in magic? Practical exams like charms or transfiguration?" Fila asked.
McGonagall seemed hesitant to answer. "He… is struggling somewhat in the practical department. But I don't think that because he doesn't understand, I think its more about him thinking to big at once."
Fila raised an eyebrow, "Wanting to use the biggest spell already?"
She nodded, "yes just like that."
Professor McGonagall looked at the girl walking beside her, and a unusual feeling washed over her.
She knew very well how much praise Albus had given her, telling her that Ophelia could be the smartest witch at her age right now. And she could feel it, not just I magical but in the way she carried herself as someone much older.
The two kept walking through the school, making small talk about different things and places in the school.
"And this is the Slytherin commonroom, located at the bottom of the school as you can see," she pointed at the window showing the black lake just outside.
"I can feel a bit of, what is it? rivalry in your voice professor?" Fila giggled.
And Professor McGonagall didn't hide it and just smirked. "Its always been a thing here, don't you have it at Ilvermorny?"
Fila nodded, "More then one should maybe, but yes we fight over the smallest things all the time."
Fila didn't like this common room at all. it felt damp, dark and locked in. she needed towers with a view, like Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.
And sadly the common room wasn't the only thing that she saw which she didn't like. Her cousin… Draco Malfoy in the flesh.
He was standing near one of the long tables with a small cluster of other Slytherins, pale hair catching the greenish light from the lake windows, expression already arranged into that familiar mix of boredom and superiority. He had not noticed her yet. He was too busy saying something that made the boy beside him laugh a little too loudly.
Fila stopped walking.
McGonagall noticed at once.
"Miss Grindelwald?"
"I'm fine." Fila's voice stayed even. "Just recognising a face."
McGonagall followed her gaze. Her expression cooled several degrees.
"Ah. Mr Malfoy. I was not aware you were acquainted."
"We're not," Fila said. "Not properly. Family, though. Distant enough that most people prefer not to mention it. Close enough that the name still turns up at the wrong dinners."
Draco turned at that moment, as if the weight of her attention had reached him. His eyes moved across the visitors, past McGonagall, and landed on the Ilvermorny colours and the blindfold. For a fraction of a second the polished mask slipped.
He inclined his head a fraction — not polite so much as acknowledging a fact. Fila did not return the gesture. She simply looked at him, or rather let her magic sight settle over him for a brief second. His magic was pale.
McGonagall cleared her throat.
"If there is history that will cause difficulty—"
"There won't be," Fila said. "I didn't come here for family reunions."
She turned away from the glass and from Draco Malfoy, and continued along the corridor. After a moment McGonagall followed.
"Would you mind answering this for me professor." Fila said while walking out of the common room.
McGonagall looked at her and tilted her head slightly.
"Do the students from rival houses fight a lot?" she asked.
McGonagall's expression did not exactly soften, but something like weary honesty settled over it.
"They compete," she said. "Constantly. Points, Quidditch, examinations, the smallest imagined slight. Gryffindor and Slytherin in particular have made an art form of mutual antagonism. Most of it remains within acceptable bounds. Some of it does not. We intervene when necessary."
Fila considered that.
"So… yes."
"In a manner of speaking." McGonagall glanced sideways at her. "I trust that is not an invitation for you to participate."
"I'm not here long enough to join a house war." Fila's tone was dry.
After finishing the tour they stopped just outside the tower where Fila would stay. The so called guest bedrooms laid here.
"This will be the end of tonight, I hope it has brightened your curiosity about the school, and settled any thoughts you had. Tomorrow you will be in charms with the first years." She said with a smile. "Goodnight then."
"Goodnight Professor." Fila returned with a smile. And looked as the Professor turned the corner. And a smile crept on her face, a night like this isn't one to use for sleeping. How could she a whole new castle to explore.
First of all she would need to find the kitchen.
Her tour with Professor hadn't shown it, but when seeing the entrance to the badgers little den she thought she smelt a lot of food.
So she made her way down, and down until she stood in the room with oversized barrels of whatever they contained. They had never gone inside the badgers common room as Professor McGonagull didn't know their password.
"Hufflepuff was their name right?" she said to herself while standing in the little storage place. She really wanted to see the inside of their common room.
So she sat down with disillusionment charm making her invincible.
A long time passed by herself. She made some small figures out of wood she found, two of them now stood and tried doing handstands together. If they fell the would try again, and sometime they fell on each other making them fight.
After making herself watch these two for what felt like an eternity she could finally hear voices coming down the stairs.
"No we should put the dungbombs in the changing rooms , that way they would never be able to focus on the match" one of them said, and she instantly knew who.
"That's brilliant Fred," the other said.
Fila watched to two of them walk down and stopped Infront of a painting.
Then one of them pulled out his wand, and Fila raised an eyebrow as he started tickling a pear on the picture.
But against all her doubts the painting actually opened with a soft click.
She quickly stood and slipped into the painting behind them, still concealed.
Inside the kitchen stretched out in a long chamber. Tables just like the ones in the great hall stood just like they did there, filled with empty plates where food and other things should be.
"Finally some night time meals." George said and sat down at a table set up just like at Durmstrang and Ilvermorny, ready for just these types of moments.
Fred also sat down, but when he did another chair suddenly moved by itself.
Both of them looked at the chair, then at each other, then back at the chair.
"Oh come on, you didn't even get scared?" Fila said as he magic disappeared and now she sat there as normal.
The two of them looked at each other again, "Ophelia!" they both slightly shouted. "You scared us half to death just now."
Their way of speaking in unison was still as scary as back then.
"Thank you for showing where the kitchen was, I couldn't find it." She said as a plate appeared infront of them all.
Fila looked down at the plate filled with, bacon, eggs, beans and a piece of toast. Very typical British except the bacon, not that she complained.
"Did you follow us here?" Fred asked while George already started digging into his plate.
"no, I was already down here. I wanted to see the Hufflepuff common room. But I don't know the password." She admitted.
George looked up, "We know it, we can show you after this. didn't know you would be a troublemaker." He said with a sly smile.
She wanted to say she wasn't, but time and time again had proved that she really did cause trouble where ever she walked. "Only sometimes, why are you two even here this late?" she asked.
"Night snack, it's a tradition." They said in unison.
Fucking scary.