Chapter Text
Lumine thought she had led a fairly normal life for the last eleven years. Save the small gasp followed by a sorry if she mentioned that she grew up in an orphanage.
Like all the other kids her age, she’d always wander off on her own. Everyone’s always included in a group of their own, but Lumine was usually left out and no one wanted to join her of their own volition, and she eventually got used to it.
She’d be walking towards one corner of the orphanage and reappear on the other corner. Lumine thought of it as something amusing, yet never considered it as anything out of place.
The only anomaly that stuck on the forefront of her mind was on her seventh birthday, when she dreamt of herself — though her heart knew that it was not her reflection in the mirror, for the person was sentient and had their own way with words; coercing Lumine to come find them after she’d lived this lifetime, and Lumine finally asked the first question she’d ever asked on her own volition to her director.
“You’ve always been by yourself, even when you arrived on my doorstep,” she said almost apologetically, grabbing her by the shoulders. “I’m sorry, Lumine, I wish I could be of any help.”
Aside from her constant dreams about two halves making a whole before the other disappears into thin air, she considered herself pretty darn normal. Some of the orphanage kids pick on her for being weird and freaky, but she didn’t pay them much mind.
Three years later and the same person appeared in her dreams.
While Lumine’s hair is crudely chopped, theirs looked uncut from their last encounter; reaching their back even after being braided. They spoke about I’m coming to get you soon, sister, and that’s when Lumine realized from the cracked voice—
This person is a guy.
Is it her other self from within? Her alter ego? Someone who, very suspiciously, looked the exact same as her, who existed in the planes of her mind?
Lumine was about to ask the same exact thing to her director, though someone beat her to it.
The following morning, the orphanage received a mysterious guest. Lumine was compelled to peek from her pint-sized window, drawn to the greater power in motion permeating through the air. The director, whom she had been looking for to no avail that morning, was engaged in a brief altercation with the guest at the front gate.
Probably yet another sponsor, so she didn’t pay much attention to them.
Imagine Lumine’s shock when the director knocked on her door not long after, escorting her first and only guest in her whole life.
“Ah, you must be Miss Viatrix,” he greeted, pulling off the hood covering his head. “Allow me to introduce myself.”
The mysterious, heavily-dressed man offered his gloved hand and introduced himself as Zhongli, a professor from some institution whose name she didn’t quite catch; he kindly offered Lumine a smile (Lumine didn’t think anyone but her director has ever done that before) and asked the director if he could borrow Lumine for a while.
She had no idea who this man was, and sensing her hesitation, the director swiftly cut into Lumine midway; she asked Zhongli to talk in private. Zhongli nodded and proceeded to trail behind her, but not before he handed Lumine an envelope with a neatly written Lumine Viatrix, Room 4 of Starfell Orphanage.
“I have something for you,” his gloved hand encased her smaller ones, folding her fingers into the envelope. “While I go talk to your director, it’s best for you to read it.”
Lumine, rooted in her spot just right by the door to her office, felt the vibrations in the air — Zhongli calmly explained that they were here to take Lumine to a school away to someplace Lumine’s not sure how to pronounce.
“So it’s true?” the director’s shaky voice asks. “That she’s out of her mind?”
“Pardon?”
“All the kids… everyone told me that she’s a freak. Walks away somewhere and disappears in a flash. I’ve always known there’s a few screws loose in her head, but for someone like you to say it—”
Before she had the chance to process the onslaught of information, Lumine swore the ground cracked.
“Miss Viatrix is an exceptional witch even at her age,” Zhongli insisted, cutting her tirade off. “She is not a… freak, as you have explicitly stated.”
“I—I’m just relaying the other kids’ stories, that’s all… Aren’t you here to take a look at—”
The director is coldly cut off by Zhongli’s firm baritone. “I am a teacher from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where she has been admitted ever since she was born into this world. The early manifestation of magic in a child is a common development, and if any, it is only a testament to her promising future. Good day.”
One chair dragged against the floorboard, and Lumine found herself unable to move from her spot. Move away, Lumine! That guy’s gonna know, the director’s gonna know, they—!
A short pause, and this time Zhongli sounded like he was smiling. “Ah, and I believe there will be no need to explain yourself to Miss Viatrix.”
That brought back Lumine to her senses. One second she was right by the door, eavesdropping on their conversation, the next thing she knew she was trailing behind Zhongli back to her room, refusing to meet the director’s eye as they passed by the slightly ajar door.
“You haven’t read the letter, I see,” the crisp envelope in her hands diverted his attention. “Sit down and take your time. I’ll be waiting.”
Lumine opened the vintage-looking letter. The first page began with embellishments and the name of the school and its headmaster: Varka, Knight of Boreas. Order of Merlin, First Class. And a few others Lumine might have to look up later on.
The contents of the letter itself began with a Dear Miss Viatrix, though the handwriting perplexed her. It looked too human to be printed, yet too methodical to be a regular person’s handiwork. Whoever this person was, they must’ve had a penchant for everything vintage, archaic even. Who even used wax seals and parchment paper anymore? This… Jean Gunnhildr, Deputy Headmistress person… how old is she?
Truthfully, Lumine only scanned through the next sentences. Something along the lines of getting accepted into a school she didn’t remember applying to, that she needed to provide the necessary documents, purchase her school supplies, yadda yadda. Mentally counting the bits and pieces of money she’d saved up here and there…
“To attend or to not is entirely your choice. Should you choose to attend, we are going to support you in every way we could.”
Making choices… she’d never been in charge of her own life.
“Why the long face, Miss Viatrix?” concerned the man, “Is there something you wish to share with me?”
Lumine pensively stared at her feet. “How would you know if I’m a…” the words were stuck on the tip of her tongue as she said them, “If I’m… a wizard?”
The word sounded foreign even to herself. Why, this whole day still felt like a very elaborate prank. But who would spare that much effort for her? She honestly doubted the kids would be able to execute such a well-thought scenario.
“I’m sure you’ve experienced plenty of things that do not make sense in the Muggle world.”
“Mug—excuse me?”
“Ah, pardon. We call them Muggles,” he kindly elaborated. “Non-magicians, people who weren’t born with an innate talent to do magic. As for you… I believe your director said something about you disappearing from her sight often.”
Zhongli stopped, yet his tone coaxed her to pitch her own stories in.
“It felt like I was just walking,” she confessed, finding a weird sense of camaraderie in Zhongli; having kept this secret to herself her whole life, it felt like she was unloading a heavy burden from her chest. “I didn’t know I’d just… reappear in a wholly different place. Sometimes it took me much effort to return.”
“Witches and wizards use Apparition and Disapparition as common, yet advanced methods of travel. I believe Muggles refer to it as ‘teleportation’.”
Ah, yes. The superpower that everyone wanted. How convenient. Lumine tended to brush off her own experiences as insignificant since no one would’ve believed her, but she had been curious about one thing.
“Other than that, I’ve… dreamt of things. And it felt so real, like I was speaking to them in person.”
“And what do these ‘things’ entail, if I may?”
“Someone else, who had my face. They would… talk to me, but I can’t hear them clearly.”
Zhongli took a brief, yet careful pause. “Apparating and Disapparating are considered common in our world, while a dream is quite the tricky thing, Miss Viatrix. Rather than a reflection of your heritage, I’d say it’s more of… a message.”
“A message?”
“Yes, or a premonition of sorts. Our professor of Divination may be able to help with interpreting dreams. I myself am not well-versed in such… conceptual subjects.”
There was even a professor for horoscopes and stuff. How cool is that? “What are you a professor of?”
“Me? I teach History of Magic. You’ll be seeing me a lot starting from the first year,” he chuckles, a comforting baritone in Lumine’s ears. “Now, while all of this introduction for magic is refreshing, we shall make haste for Mondstadt before all the stores close.”
Lumine lets out a soft oh. On the other hand, her inner turmoil was so great that her head was about to burst — she’d never had the freedom to choose her own path. Meals were short and impersonal with the exception of the old-man donors who asked for pictures after treating them with once-a-year delicacies. Clothes and school uniforms were taken from clothing sacks that arrive once every few months, and Lumine was bullied into getting the thinnest, barely wearable pieces.
“Once I have your consent, then I would have to send a message back to Hogwarts. The decision should be yours, and yours alone.”
Freedom to make her own decisions. A foreign concept for the eleven-year-old with bony fingers and unkempt nails. Passing through streets and storefronts where parents let their kids buy the ice cream or new dolls of their choice…
“Yes,” the words rolled out her mouth before her head fully processed the consequences of her actions. “Yes, I’d be happy to.”
“Excellent. May I borrow your desk?”
As Zhongli took his sweet, sweet time writing the letter (he even whipped out a feather for a pen; why not send a text?), Lumine had finished cleaning up her barebones of a room. With the letter in hand, he walked over to the window, although Lumine could make out the slightly confounded expression as he realized the window was so small.
“Are you finished?”
Lumine glanced at her meager belongings and nodded. Zhongli pocketed the letter with a nod. “Would you happen to have any owls I can borrow?”
“Owls?”
“Yes, I need to have this letter sent posthaste.”
The nearest post office was at least three miles away, and who the hell still used them? And this man is asking for an owl?
“We send emails from the director’s office computer.”
“May I borrow Emails? I’ll make sure he returns safely from Hogwarts back to your director.”
They stared at each other for quite a while. Lumine waited, thinking it was a witty remark on his part, but seeing as he was also confused by her delay in reaction she chose to drop it altogether.
“On second thought, let’s look for the post office.”
Trailing closely behind Zhongli’s heel, Lumine strutted away from the rundown building while the director and the other kids looked on equally in horror and mortification.
Even Lumine, who barely ventured into the city apart from running errands, could tell that Zhongli was inept at navigating his way in the human world.
Such problems include inserting a gold coin into the gateline (“Sir, you’re supposed to use a card here…”), but by some odd stroke of luck, the machine malfunctioned just as Lumine explained the inner workings of the gate; allowing both of them to enter the station free of charge.
Strange. It didn’t seem like Zhongli was behind the crash, or if he was willfully ignorant of the situation. Lumine was left pondering whether to tell Zhongli or not that he was the sole perpetrator, instead of his astonishment that ‘wizard currency had their own value in the Muggle world’.
Mondstadt was a beautiful city, and the fascination never stopped no matter how many times she’d stepped foot in this place, though it’s her first time coming with the intention of purchasing her own things.
Lumine fished for the letter in her bag. The list of her supplies seemed to span the entire second page, and they were all things she’d never heard of or things she didn’t knew existed.
And that students were required to bring their own. “Uh, Mr. Zhongli…”
“What is it, Miss Viatrix?”
“The letter said that students must bring their own supplies,” she showed Zhongli the second page of the letter. “But I don’t have any money.”
“Ah, about that. There’s a stipend from school that you can peruse. We will need to make a withdrawal at the bank.”
A bank. Zhongli mentioned something about wizard currency, but how would the local banks provide them?
“And things like the wand, and cauldron, and stuff… I don’t think the general store sells them.”
“Best remember where to look for them, then.”
Zhongli was spared the lengthy explanation when they’d entered a shabby-looking tavern called the Angel’s Share. Lumine chose to not ask why they’d be drinking in midday when she’s only eleven years old, but Zhongli led her to the back room where he proceeded to tap a pattern on the brick wall.
The bricks parted, revealing a bustling alleyway to another place of sorts. Zhongli stepped aside to allow Lumine passage into the street. “Welcome to Windrise Alley. You should be able to find all of your much-needed school supplies here.”
It did seem like a magical environment with all the unmanned, floating contraptions, owls, and fashion that someone her age would consider vintage; pointy hats and dark robes. Feeling out of place in her plain shirt and jeans, Lumine curled her shoulders inside in an attempt to make herself seem smaller.
Along the way, Zhongli helped fill in the blanks and untangle the knots in her mind. Zhongli seemed taller than when he first greeted her, and Lumine found that keeping up with his pace while absorbing the onslaught of new information (while also processing them logically) proved to be quite the challenge.
Long story short, Lumine and Zhongli successfully withdrew the money (albeit with much difficulty; which left Lumine wondering how he’d lived all this time). Galleons are the gold ones, Sickles the silver, and Knuts the bronze.
Madam Marjorie’s Robes for All Occasions, the wooden plank said. Lumine hesitantly gripped the door handle, but the woman on the other side beat her to it.
“Hogwarts, yes?” said the shopkeeper before Lumine had the chance to explain herself. The figure shadowing her was nowhere to be found, and Lumine could only follow her guidance. “You’re quite skinny for your age — I think the smallest will do.”
As she went behind the counter to procure her set, Lumine was given an accidental peek of the clothing tags — twelve Galleons for clothes?! The noisy jingle of coins in her pocket reminded her of the whole list of things that hadn’t made the cut yet.
Lumine steeled herself to cancel her order to the shopkeeper, but the doorbell rang loudly as the door was opened.
“Sorry, I ran into some acquaintance.”
From behind the counter, the shopkeeper peeked her head and immediately stood up upon recognizing who her guest was. “Professor Zhongli!”
“Good day, Madam Marjorie. I see that Miss Viatrix has been fitted accordingly?”
The shopkeeper — who turned out to Madam Marjorie herself — whose eyes had been flitting between Lumine and Zhongli, clapped her hands together and let out a shrill chuckle. “Oh, you should’ve told me you’re coming with him! The set will be three Galleons, and another ten Sickles for the name tags.”
Three gold coins and a palmful of silver ones were deposited on the register, and Lumine hauled the thick package into her bony arms.
All the other stores either gave her a hefty discount or stack bonuses on top of her patronage, and some even flat-out refused her money after Zhongli greeted them; nearing the end stages of her shopping spree, the pile of her purchases exceeded her height.
“You seem to be very well-known around these parts, Sir,” Lumine hugged the pile of books close to her chest. The rest of her supplies were tucked away in Zhongli’s magical pouch. “Everyone’s giving you discounts.”
Contrary to the facts, Zhongli looked… surprised. “Oh, really? I’ve never really paid attention to market prices…”
Again, how did this man survive until this point? How did he even procure his own basic necessities? Lumine had heard of ridiculously rich people who never did anything on their own, having a multitude of assistants to help with their daily life. Zhongli might be that kind of person.
Before she got the chance to question him, however, Zhongli mentioned something about ‘getting her the most important thing of all’. Lumine was just about to ask what it was before Zhongli dragged them into a rundown store at the corner of the road.
Schulz: Maker of Fine Wands. The door almost fell off its hinges when Lumine pushed it open.
“Good morning, Mr. Wagner.”
“Ah, it’s you, Professor Zhongli,” the large man curtly addressed his guests, not taking his eyes off his work. “I assume it’s for the Miss over there?”
Zhongli nodded. “This is Miss Lumine Viatrix. She will be attending Hogwarts starting this year. Miss Viatrix, this is Wagner, one of Teyvat’s most gifted wandmakers.”
“The best.”
Lumine wasn’t sure if she was supposed to say something or anything at all, but Wagner beat her to it; he was already rummaging through his vast display of unkempt glass boxes. He took down almost an armful’s worth, and mind you — his arms were probably the size of Lumine’s waist.
The man wasn’t at all gentle when he dropped the items on the table, but to Lumine’s surprise, none of them broke.
“Alder, unicorn hair. Eight and a quarter inches. Nice and supple.”
Wagner dropped the wand in Lumine’s expecting hands, and all she could offer him was a dumbfounded look.
“Well, try swishing it.”
Having no idea what to do, Lumine waved the wand around, projecting the magical girl TV show kids at school liked in her mind. Nothing came out.
He took it back almost instantly, pulling out another wand. What was she supposed to do, anyway?
“Sycamore and dragon heartstring. Nine inches, quite springy.”
Lumine lost herself in the springy aspect of the wand. They’re all pieces of wood, and there were no discernible differences in flexibility whatsoever. The process went on for ten wands or so, and Lumine was compelled to apologize for some reason.
“Acquiring your first wand, while thrilling, is also quite the challenge, Miss. Do not fret, it’s just another day for me.”
He said that, but the pile of rejects was getting taller and taller. Wagner took his sweet time contemplating before pulling out one box, hesitantly depositing it in Lumine’s hands.
“Maple wood, phoenix wing feather. Ten and a half inches. Probably a bit too long for your build, but—”
Like an invisible hand was guiding her on what to do, the wand pulsed in her hand. All three of them watched the magic unveil from the tip of her wand; gentle breezes, a sea of flowers, and the darkness of night along with enclosing flames.
After the mini-show was done, the mere thought of returning the wand to Wagner didn’t even manifest in her mind; the piece of wood drew her into it.
“You’re certainly not as your appearance may seem, Miss Viatrix,” Wagner, still astonished, broke the silence. “Say, do you have a sibling? A twin, perhaps?”
“None that I know of.”
He stroked his beard. “Strange. The core that made your wand… the other wand that had the same phoenix’s core was stolen from my shop a while ago.”
Zhongli perked up. “Stolen?”
“Someone broke into my shop only recently,” Wagner sighed. “Seems like they were looking for a wand. They only took that one, and I saw no reason to make a fuss about it.”
He eyed the wand in Lumine’s hand. “Blackthorn, eleven inches. Yours were made with the feather of the left wing, and theirs the right. It is curious that the two of you may be connected somehow. Not to mention that the trees each wand was made of were facing each other. Truly twins in every sense of the word.”
The engraving of twin birds on the hilt made itself known to Lumine’s wandering fingers.
The possibility of a twin.
Zhongli had been studying the exchange with keen interest. “Wandlore is a highly complex practice. There’s no definite saying of how a wand will behave in certain people. Even in the case of theft, it was like that certain wand ‘asked’ to be taken away.”
“It’s as he says,” Wagner affirmed with a nod. “The wand chooses the wizard, and not the other way, Miss Viatrix. If not a twin, then someone important that will later come into your life.”
Lumine went home with said wand tucked safely in her pocket, and it was only in the confines of her own room at midnight after the lights were out did she further probe the carvings beneath the moonlight.
“A twin wand, huh…”
Thus concluded the best summer of Lumine’s life so far.
No one in the orphanage dared to cross her, let alone get close to her proximity. Lumine, though displeasured that she couldn’t put the spells she just learned into practice, spent the month leading up to the beginning of the school year scouring through her new books and equipment like a toddler who’d been given new toys to play with.
At eleven sharp on September 1st, the train will depart from Stormbearer Point, crossing over the sea to where Hogwarts was located. Lumine, in all her excitement, shot up from her bed at four in the morning, and was out of the house even before the sun had risen.
To her luck, most of the students shared her enthusiasm—the station was already packed by the time she had arrived. Everyone looked so cozy with each other that Lumine had zero inkling of an idea of how she was supposed to navigate in this societal landscape. She barely understood anyone’s lingo and she hadn’t even sat on the train.
As if she knew what it was like to board one. She’d been lucky and stumbled upon fellow Hogwarts-goers by accident as they passed through the brick wall between 9 and 10 (saved her the embarrassment of asking the Muggle staff; why did Zhongli keep her in the dark about the most vital part of her journey?!)
Lumine had to walk from the first car all the way to the end to find a seat for herself. One compartment at the back was empty and since everywhere else was full, and she didn’t know anyone just yet, she decided to occupy it.
“Excuse me,” someone broke Lumine’s reverie, peeking a humongous-hatted head into the sliding door. “Are these seats taken?”
“No, not at all.”
“It’s packed everywhere. May I sit with you?”
“Sure.”
She hauled her trunk with extreme difficulty, with Lumine lending a hand to lift the heavy thing up to the rack.
“Thanks a lot,” her new companion heaves a sigh, offering her hand after wiping it on her robe. “I’m Mona.”
“Lumine,” she returned the gesture warmly. “Your hat is really pretty.”
“You really think so?”
Lumine nodded a few times, which brought a smile to Mona’s face. “Thanks. You’re probably the first person who thought that.”
“I can see why, but it’s a nice personal touch.”
Mona took it off, tracing the embroidered constellations with a giddy grin. “I made it myself! There’s the Astrolabos, and Carmen Dei—”
Back in the orphanage, Lumine had astrological maps and star stickers covering the holes of the worn-out drywalls of her room. They are Muggle maps, of course — she’d taken to memorizing all forty-eight of Ptolemy’s constellations every night to lull herself to sleep, and it seemed like the magic world had its own version of constellations.
Lumine can’t wait to learn them all. Mona showed Lumine her own map and notes, the two girls immediately clicking over their shared interest in stars. The train whistled off as it began its voyage just as they laid Mona’s journal on the cushion.
Yet another girl stuck their head into the compartment not long after, asking if she can sit with Lumine and Mona.
“Sorry for the interruption, but allow me to introduce myself. My name is Keqing. The other compartment had a spot, but they were a gang of seniors and I’d feel awkward intruding. Lucky I’d seen you guys.”
Lumine and Mona took turns introducing themselves. Fortunately, Keqing was well-versed in the art of maintaining conversations; awkward pauses were cleverly filled with feeble remarks and questions that kept the continuity and flow.
Mona’s stomach rumbled (“I—I ate breakfast, it’s just that the luggage was so heavy—”) and Keqing kindly shared the snacks she bought from the trolley witch.
“Have a Chocolate Frog, but careful of their jumps. Ah, they also have these collectible cards, you see…”
Lumine plopped the frog inside her mouth before it could jump away, and pulled out the pentagonal card from the bottom of the box.
Zhongli
Seven Archons of Teyvat
Pioneer of a vast array of spells including the famed Shield Charm and its variations, his position of an Archon making him a representative of Liyue in the International Confederation of Wizards. Currently History of Magic Professor in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enjoys tea in his free time.
The portrait of Zhongli sitting on an armchair with a cup of tea stared back at her. “I didn’t know he’s actually this cool… He seemed like an average old man to me.”
Blinking in confusion, Keqing stared at Lumine with bewilderment. “You know Zhongli?”
“He was my messenger.”
“Zhongli was the one to escort you?!”
“Uh… yeah,” Lumine sheepishly answered, slightly taken aback by the other girl’s outburst. “Is he really that amazing of a person?”
“Only that he’s arguably the strongest wizard of our time!” Keqing animatedly jumped in her seat, before realizing her solo enthusiasm was met with confused stares from the other two. That snapped her out, and her tone went back to normal. “Sorry, that’s so unbecoming of me. The Seven are chosen heroes of the previous war, and they have long since maintained peace between countries.”
Lumine nodded dumbly, yet Keqing was still animatedly talking about him. “As long as Hogwarts is under his protection, then we shouldn’t have to worry about anything. It’s the safest place on Teyvat.”
The strongest wizard, huh… Flashbacks of his mishaps and stumbles in the Muggle world came back to her, and the dignified portrait of Zhongli in the card seemed like a whole other person.
“I’ll just Google him up later.”
“About that…” Mona interrupted, “I heard Muggle electronics are rendered dysfunctional in Hogwarts.”
“You mean, like computers, internet, and such?” Keqing inquired. “I’m afraid to say that it’s true. Hogwarts’ enchantments are so strong that it disables all these gadgets.”
“You’re well-versed in Muggle stuff, Keqing.”
“My parents’ line of work required the innate knowledge of Muggle life. I may have picked up a thing or two from their studies.”
Keqing and Mona bounced off of topics of various gadgets and knick-knacks in the Muggle world, while Lumine was still watching Zhongli’s card portrait, even as it long since left the picture.
“You okay, Lumine?”
The two girls were showing concern at her inactivity, and Lumine flashed them a reassuring smile. “Nothing… Just processing. It’s all new territory to me.”
“Ah, sorry about that,” Keqing sheepishly apologized, “Us folks with wizard parentage tend to come off insensitive to people who never had a taste of magic in their lives before. No offense.”
Lumine shook her head. “None taken. It’ll take a while to adjust, but I’m getting there.”
“If you need help with anything, I’m always here.”
A pat on her back from Mona. “Me too. I can only relay what my mom had told me about it, but I’ll always be happy to indulge.”
Lumine extended her thanks with a warm smile.
“So… have any idea what houses you want to get Sorted into?”
Mona enthusiastically nodded, while Lumine only gave them blank stares.
“My hunch is telling me Ravenclaw is the way to go, and they’re usually pretty accurate.”
“Too bad, seems like we’ll be on the opposite sides of the castle. You’re way up in a tower, while mine is in a dungeon. I’m gunning for Slytherin, by the way,” Keqing said, seemingly proud of her choice. “What about you, Lumine?”
Lumine’s been torn about her choices as of lately; she’d compared the four houses every day before she went to bed, thinking that she had the potential to do good in each—
Right before the answer left her mouth, two guys slid the doors open with a bang.
“The last compartment,” the shorter boy sneered. “Also nothing worthy of note.”
The taller one with the bright hair peered over the shorter’s head. “Ah, Keqing of the Yuheng. A pleasure to meet you.”
“Can’t say the same for the rude interruption. Me and my girls here were having a pleasant chat before you crashed into our seats.”
Keqing’s voice was cold and Lumine realized she wasn’t someone to be trifled with; yet the taller one only laughed and patted the shorter’s head. “Pardon the toddler, he’s not used to so many humans at once. Come on, Scara.”
‘Scara’ grumbled, yet heeded his companion’s words — not before muttering under his breath, though.
“Ridiculous hat…”
Lumine felt Mona twitch on her seat, yet she held her hand so as not to incite further chaos.
They walked out, leaving the door wide open as they disappeared from view. Keqing grumpily stood to fix their mess, all the while grumbling after she sat back down and opened another pack of Chocolate Frog. “This is certainly a surprise. To think that guy would actually enroll in our school and not Durmstrang...”
That got Mona to stop her irritated grumbling. “Who?”
“The tall one,” Keqing’s eyes followed their retreating forms, before examining the card she just got. “He’s pretty infamous. His name is Ajax, but everyone knows him as Childe.”
“Why the stage name?”
“It’s a Snezhnayan thing, I suppose? I don’t really know the details, but his family’s name is quite big in the community, and not for the right reasons. Not to mention their lot are scattered all over the Snezhnayan Ministry.”
Lumine pictured going into an office where everyone had his face and appearance, but quickly shot down the ridiculous thought. “You said something about him going here and not Durmstrang.”
Keqing shrugged as she put away the card she just got. “Beats me, but my parents advised against making friends with him since he’ll be in Slytherin as well.”
“Slytherin, huh… I can see that,” Mona folded her arms, leaning back in her seat. “I’ve heard that pureblood supremacists won’t even bother with other houses.”
“What can I say, the founder was a pureblood purist himself. Although it would be nice if others start valuing us by our merit rather than our blood and inherent aspects.”
“Hey, decades of bad rep tend to do that, though you don’t seem like that kind of person. Speaking of which, we didn’t get Lumine’s answer because those jerks interrupted us.”
Lumine let out a mirthful, genuine laughter, something she’d never imagined herself possible of making. “I’m fine with anything, really. But Gryffindor has a nice ring to it…”
They enjoyed their time together for the duration of the train ride, though Lumine’s eyes would occasionally dance to the large hand print on the glass, undoubtedly belonging to the subject of their earlier conversation.
Eleven-year-old Lumine would have never thought about saying another word to him, let alone picture their possible entanglement for the rest of her school life.