The twins were the jokesters of Hogwarts, that had she figured out already back in Castelobruxo. But what she didn't know was that they made their own things for them.
"We made fireworks that makes a whole dragon follow you." Fred said proudly.
George nodded along as they kept showing and telling her more and more things they had made together.
Fila listened while she ate, occasionally turning a prototype over in her hands when they passed one across the table. A small metal sphere that squeaked insults when squeezed. A quill that only wrote the opposite of what you intended. A slim packet of powder that, according to Fred, would make someone's hair sing sea shanties for an hour.
"You're both completely unhinged," she said, not without admiration.
"High praise," George replied, reaching for more toast.
Fred leaned forward.
"So what's the real reason you're here? No offence, but people don't just drop a Grindelwald into Hogwarts for a quiet holiday."
Fila finished her bacon before answering.
"Officially? Short educational visit. Observe classes. Cultural exchange." She tilted her head. "Unofficially is none of your business."
Fred grinned.
"That's fair. We wouldn't tell us either."
A house-elf appeared with a fresh pot of tea, gave Fila a long, curious look, then vanished again. The kitchen stayed warm and quiet except for the clink of cutlery and the distant creak of the castle settling.
George wiped his mouth.
"You still want to see Hufflepuff? We weren't joking. We know the way."
"Obviously."
Fred stood, stretching.
"Right then. Stay quiet, don't touch anything that looks important, and if anyone asks, we kidnapped you."
"Comforting," Fila said, but she was already on her feet.
They slipped back through the portrait of the fruit bowl, the twins moving with the easy confidence of people who had done this a hundred times. Fila followed, disillusionment half-raised out of habit until Fred glanced back and shook his head.
"No need. At this hour the Hufflepuffs are either asleep or too polite to cause a scene."
"From what I heard these Hufflepuffs are the so called 'very good' guys of the school?" she asked.
The both of them nodded, "Yes, never causing trouble. Only eats and sleeps."
The corridor to the basement felt different from the Slytherin dungeons — warmer, drier, with the faint smell of earth and something baking. They stopped in front of a stack of large barrels set into a recess in the wall.
George stepped forward and tapped a particular barrel in a careful rhythm. The lid swung open onto a round, low tunnel.
"After you," he said with a flourish.
Fila climbed through.
The Hufflepuff common room opened around her in circular, earthy comfort — low ceilings, round windows near the ceiling that showed the black grounds outside, polished wood and soft yellow hangings. Plants hung in neat clusters. A fire burned low in a copper hearth. Everything about it felt lived-in and deliberately kind.
Some of the Hufflepuffs were actually still awake and looked at them, but didn't say anything once George and Fred came through the opening.
Fila stood still for a moment, taking it in.
"This is… nicer than I expected."
"Don't let the badgers hear you sound so surprised," Fred murmured. "They'll offer you tea and never let you leave."
She walked a slow circuit of the room, fingers brushing the back of a worn sofa, magic sight mapping the gentle, steady pulse of the place. No sharp edges. No locked-in feeling like Slytherin. Just warmth and a quiet insistence on belonging.
"It nice to meet you again Fila." A voice she slightly recognized came from on of the opening in the room.
She turned to find Mr. pretty boy standing there. Someone she had met in Castelobruxo aswell and tried to match with June.
"Cedric. Was it?" she asked while pointing at the boy.
He smiled and nodded. "Im surprised the champion remembers, welcome to the Hufflepuff common room."
Fila tilted her head slightly.
"Hard to forget someone who spent half the tournament trying to look impressive for a girl who wasn't interested."
A couple of the still-awake Hufflepuffs snorted quietly. Cedric took it with good grace, rubbing the back of his neck.
"That's… fair. June made her preferences clear." He glanced at the twins. "I see you already found the school's least responsible tour guides."
"We're excellent tour guides," Fred said. "We only lose people on purpose."
George nodded solemnly. "Builds character."
Fila walked a little further into the room, still mapping it with her magic sight. The steady, warm pulse of the place hadn't changed. Even the students who were awake felt open in a way Slytherin had not — curious rather than calculating.
"It's comfortable," she said. "Doesn't feel like it's trying to impress anyone."
"That's the idea," Cedric replied. "You're welcome anytime. Properly, I mean. Not just by breaking in with these two."
"We didn't break in," George protested. "We used the door. Technically."
One of the younger Hufflepuffs, a girl with a round face and sleepy eyes, finally found her courage.
"Are you really staying the whole term?"
Fila looked at her, "Yes, well it already may so its only a month. But maybe will be more later. Hopefully." She said and touched some of the flowers, they all reacted to her touch and leaned into her touch.
The little badgers all looked happy with that answer, they were cute little badgers. All so full of happiness and curiosity.
Fila sat down in one of the couches among the badgers. "So tell me, what do you like most with this school?"
The badgers looked at each other, surprised at first but soon enough the warmed up.
"The food."
"The castle."
"Hogsmeade." One of the older ones said which made the other giggle.
Fila listened intently, she wanted to know what made this school feel like home for them. like her the lessons didn't matter, neither did the professors. All they needed was friends and the castle itself. And she had to admit, the castle made her feel cozy like nothing she had felt before.
Another Hufflepuff, a boy with ink-stained fingers, spoke up more quietly.
"It's safe," he said. "The way people look after each other here. Mostly."
A few of the others nodded. Cedric, still standing near the tunnel entrance with the twins, watched the exchange without interrupting.
Fila rested her hand on the arm of the sofa. One of the hanging plants had leaned so far toward her that its leaves brushed her wrist.
"That's rarer than it should be," she said. "A place that feels like it's on your side."
The sleepy-eyed girl from earlier edged a little closer.
"Is Ilvermorny like that?"
Fila considered the question.
"It is. It feels like a home I never thought I had. Friends, professors and the feelings are so alive and cozy." She took out her wand and started scribbling in the air. She had learnt something at Durmstrang.
She kept going. From her wand came smoke and water particles like paint shotting out.
The others looked on in awe, and soon the whole school of Ilvermorny stood paint in the air in front of them.
"Here it is, my home away from home." Fila said with a smile looking at the castle.
The illusion hung in the centre of the common room, soft and detailed. Towers of pale stone rose against a wide American sky. Forests pressed close to the walls. A long central courtyard caught the light as if the sun were actually shining through the painted air. Small figures moved along the paths — students the size of her thumb, some in Thunderbird colours, some in the other houses.
A few of the Hufflepuffs leaned in without meaning to. The sleepy-eyed girl made a quiet sound of wonder.
"Here." she pointed at one of the towers. "Is the thunderbird tower, where I belong." She pointed to her blindfold with the embraided thunderbird logo.
She continued to show where everything else is.
"The horned serpent, are they like out Slytherins?" the tired eyed girl asked.
Fila considered the thought, "No and yes. You see our houses, even when similar to yours are still very different. For example the Thunderbird is about adventure and explorers. Which makes us similar to Gryffindor and I guess Ravenclaw in some way. So we are a mix of your houses. But in terms of people I think the Wampus is more like Slytherin."
A couple of the Hufflepuffs exchanged looks. The tired-eyed girl tilted her head.
"How?"
"Wampus is the warriors," Fila said. She adjusted the illusion with a small movement of her wand; one of the distant courtyards expanded, showing students in darker colours sparring under open sky. "Not just fighting for points. Actual combat training, physical magic, the ones who want to be strongest in a room. They're proud. Competitive. Sometimes they forget the difference between winning and proving a point." She let the image settle. "Slytherin reminds me of that. Ambition with sharper edges."
Cedric folded his arms, listening with real interest now.
"And the other two?"
"Horned Serpent is the scholars. Knowledge, theory, the ones who want to understand why magic works before they use it." Fila's mouth curved slightly. "Your Ravenclaws would get along with them. Or argue for hours. Possibly both."
She shifted the illusion again, showing a quieter wing of the school where students bent over wide tables covered in maps and instruments.
"And Pukwudgie?" Fred asked from the doorway. "You've not mentioned that one."
"Healers. Builders. The ones who keep everything standing." Fila's voice softened a fraction. "They're practical in a different way. Less about glory. More about making sure people come back in one piece. Hufflepuff feels closest to them. The part that looks after the rest."
The common room was quiet for a moment. The illusion of Ilvermorny still hung in the air, soft light moving across pale stone and deep forest.
Fila looked at the projection and felt a sort of longing for it, a clump formed in her stomach. She missed it.
After a couple of more question the small badgers finally took of to bed. They had been to curious and after a while the prefect had to step in, otherwise they would never gone to bed.
Fila followed Fred and George out of the common room.
"I think I like their common room, but I haven't seen the Ravenclaw yet" she said and looked at the twins.
Both of them shrugged, "We havnt either." They both said. "It requires you to solve a riddle to open it, and they aren't easy."
Fila raised an eyebrow. "So you aren't smart enough?"
Both of the stopped and looked at her.
Fred placed a hand over his heart.
"That's a low blow."
"Deeply personal," George agreed. "We've solved plenty of riddles. We just prefer the ones that end with explosions."
Fila kept walking, the corner of her mouth twitching.
"So that's a no."
"It's a strategic no," Fred said, catching up. "Ravenclaw's door has a reputation. Get the answer wrong and it locks you out for hours while it invents harder questions. Not worth the humiliation."
George nodded.
"We tried once in second year. Door asked us what has keys but can't open locks. Fred said a piano. Door said that was 'technically correct but spiritually disappointing' and refused to open."
"Still bitter," Fred muttered.
They climbed toward the higher floors, the castle quiet around them. Fila mapped the corridors as they walked, already noting which staircases seemed more cooperative at night.
"I'll try it myself," she said. "If the door likes clever answers, I'll give it one."
"And if it doesn't?" George asked.
"Then I'll know something about Ravenclaw that you two don't."
Fred grinned.
"Now she's just being cruel."
They reached the junction where the paths split. The twins stopped, rocking on their heels like they were already late for something they shouldn't be doing.
"Guest quarters are that way," George said, pointing. "Try to sleep at least a bit."
"Thank you, goodnight you two." She said and walked off with a wave.
Fred and George lifted their hands in loose reply and disappeared toward Gryffindor Tower, already arguing quietly about something that would almost certainly end in detention.
Fila climbed the last corridors alone. The castle had settled into its deepest quiet.
She unlocked the guest room door, stepped inside, and finally let the day catch up with her.
The image of Ilvermorny still clung in her mind like a bug that didn't want to let go, and she didn't want it to. She hadn't seen her fiends since before Christmas, what were they even doing.
And with her place in mind she drifted to sleep.
The next day.
Charms class was about to start.
The first years all had taken their seats already and waited for their professor.
Fila stood near the back of the class.
She looked out over the classroom. It felt strange, it was divided in half sort of. Benches on the right and left looking towards each other, as if the sat looking down to the middle.
The room was bright for a Hogwarts classroom, tall windows letting in the morning light. First-years sat in neat, nervous rows, some already practising the wand movement under the desk, others whispering. A few kept glancing toward the back where Fila stood in her Ilvermorny colours, clearly unsure whether they were allowed to stare.
The door opened with a brisk click.
Professor Flitwick entered, short enough that some of the first-years still looked surprised every time they saw him, and carrying a stack of books that floated obediently behind him. He set them down, clapped his hands once, and the room fell quiet.
"Good morning, good morning! Wands out, please — and do try not to put anyone's eye out before we begin."
A few nervous laughs. Chairs scraped. Fila remained where she was.
Flitwick's gaze found her almost at once. He gave a small, bright smile and a nod of acknowledgement, then turned back to the class as if a visiting Grindelwald at the back of the room were the most ordinary thing in the world.
"Today we continue with the Levitation Charm. Wingardium Leviosa. Precise swish and flick, clear pronunciation, and — most importantly — intent. Magic responds to what you mean, not only to what you say."
Fila tilted her head slightly.
Intent. That, at least, she understood better than most.
She let her magic sight settle over the nearest students as they began. Most of their attempts were messy — bursts of uncontrolled force, wobbling feathers, one boy whose wand sparked in pure frustration. A girl near the front managed a clean lift on her third try and looked so startled she nearly dropped it again.
Flitwick moved between the desks with quick, encouraging comments.
Fila stayed still and watched.
Harry sat near the front right, she watched him and his friends. But from what she could see, Harry was more focused on something else.
His wand lay loose in his fingers. The feather on his desk had barely twitched. Ron was muttering the incantation under his breath with more hope than precision, while Hermione's feather already floated in a neat, controlled hover. Harry's eyes, though, kept drifting toward the back of the room.
Toward her.
Fila did not look away. With the blindfold it was hard for anyone to tell where her attention rested, and she used that. His magic still read the same as it had the night before — blue, steady at the core, unfinished at the edges. But today there was a thin thread of distraction running through it, pulling his focus outward instead of into the spell.
Flitwick paused beside Harry's desk.
"Mr Potter. The wand follows the mind. If your mind is elsewhere, the feather will be too."
A few students snickered. Harry flushed, tightened his grip, and tried again. The feather rose a few inches, wobbled, then dropped.
Fila moved slowly along the side of the room, keeping her steps quiet. She stopped a short distance behind the Gryffindor desks, close enough to feel the shape of his next attempt more clearly. The magic gathered, reached, then scattered — not from lack of power, but from lack of a single clear direction. He was trying to lift the feather and watch her at the same time.
Interesting.
Hermione glanced over her shoulder, noticed how close Fila had come, and quickly faced forward again, ears pink. Ron mouthed something that looked like "what is she doing?"
Fila ignored them both.
She waited until Harry's next attempt began to form, then spoke very quietly, just loud enough for him to hear.
"Stop aiming at everything. Pick the feather. Nothing else."
Harry's shoulders stiffened. For a second she thought he would ignore her. Then he exhaled, set his stance again, and cast.
The feather rose cleanly this time.
Flitwick's voice came brightly from the front.
"Better, Mr Potter! Much better. Hold it… good. Now lower it gently. Yes!"
Harry set the feather down and sat very still. He did not look back again, but the blue of his magic had tightened, briefly clearer than before.
Fila allowed herself the smallest nod and continued her circuit of the room as if she had never spoken.
Unaware of it she herself had started to levitate a feather with her finger just to do something other then watching.
In the next lesson she found herself in the herbology classroom together with the third years. George and Fred stood beside her in their cute little yellow herbology outfits. Something this school had required to were, no to damage the school uniform.
"Arent you a natural at this Fila? Help us out please." Fred whispered to her while professor sprout instructed them on how to pluck leaves from a Dittany.
She raised and eyebrow, "You scared of a dittany? The worst thing that can do is to smell bad. Calm down." She said and looked over at the Ravenclaw group.
Hogwarts did the same as Ilvermorny. They change which houses had classes together. But now she just wanted to see how a Gryffindor and Slytherin lesson looked like.
Once the class started and everyone got busy doing their own thing, Professor Spout walked towards Ophelia.
"I heard from a certain headmaster that you enjoyed the art of Herbology, could that be correct Ophelia?" she asked while standing beside her and looked out over the students.
Fila smiled. "I do very much. This greenhouse is beautiful."
Professor Sprout's weathered face brightened with real pleasure. She wiped her hands on her apron and surveyed the rows of plants with the quiet pride of someone who had raised most of them herself.
"Its good to hear a child of your age still showing interest in plants. Most kids now only wants to wave wands around, and some don't even realise how dangerous these plants can be." She looked toward a sulking Venomous Tentacula in the far corner. "That one has ideas above its station. The rest are better company if you treat them properly."
Some of the plants had already started to lean towards Fila as they usually did. She let them of course, its like seeing a dog and petting it or letting it sniff you.
Professor sprout looked over at the twins, who currently stood and argued in quiet hush about who should harvest the leaves and how to do it.
"Those two could use a steadying influence. Or at least someone who won't let them turn my dittany into a prank ingredient."
Fila looked at the Professor who already looked at her.
"You want me to?" she asked.
Sprout giggled. "I saw the way they talked and looked at you, they respect you and even admire. Please?" she said gently.
Fila looked at the twins for a moment, this was turning into something else. First spying on harry and now she had to keep these two in checks.
She scratched the back of her head. "Yeah, okay I will see what I can do."
"That's all I ask." She said and then walked of to students who needed help.
Fila sighed even harder as she walked away and just looked at the twins who now looked to be fighting against the harmless dittany plant.
Fred had one leaf pinched between two fingers like it might explode. George was reading the small instructional card as if it contained ancient runes.
"You're both embarrassing yourselves," Fila said as she reached them.
Fred glanced up, relieved.
"Perfect timing. Tell him he's holding it wrong."
"You're both holding it wrong." She took the leaf from Fred, turned it gently, and demonstrated the clean pinch-and-twist Professor Sprout had shown. "It's a plant, not a locked door. Stop treating it like it owes you money."
George watched closely, then copied the motion with surprising care. The leaf came free cleanly.
"Huh."
"See?" Fila set the harvested leaf in the shallow tray between them. "Now do the rest like that. And if either of you even thinks about pocketing extra for later experiments, I'll know."
Fred raised both hands.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"He would," George said. "But I'll stop him."
"I can hear you," Fred muttered.
Fila left them to it and moved further down the row. The dittany beds nearest her had already begun leaning in again, leaves angling toward her hands without being touched. She brushed one lightly with her fingertips and felt the familiar, uncomplicated pulse of magic answer back.