Chapter Text
The narrow street of Diagon Alley was bustling with life, witches and wizards flitted about as families prepared for the upcoming year at Hogwarts. Y/N Ludenberg moved gracefully through the crowd, sharp eyes tracing the corners and crevices of the street. This kind of chaos wasn’t new to her— Hexenstraße, back in Berlin, had held a similar atmosphere, albeit more cold and far less welcoming than this.
As her eyes skimmed over the names of the shops, her eyes eventually landed on one she recognized from the list of suggestions in her Hogwarts letter— Flourish and Blotts. Personally, Y/N would prefer not to be seen entering such a… dingy little shop.
But nonetheless, she did her best to rid her face from expressing her annoyance and entered the building. After all, while she would eagerly discard that wretched list of suggested shops, there was one thing that she could easily achieve by going to those shops: getting a sense of who attended Hogwarts.
She had done a bit of research, naturally, and found out that there was a fair share of notable families with a child at Hogwarts. Transferring there, these names were obviously ones she needed to know. One of those names was Harry Potter.
And it seemed, judging by the old copies of the Daily Prophet she had bought and some other… resources, that his first two years were hectic.
The ones during his first year mentioned a break-in at Gringotts, some rumors about the philosophers stone, Hogwarts being allegedly unsafe with something hidden in the third-floor corridor, and the Defense Against the Dark Art’s mysteriously dying at the end of the year. And the ones during his second year didn’t seem any tamer with students getting petrified left and right by something that was never confirmed what it was— only that it was taken care of.
Safe to say, Y/N assumes his third year (and by extension, hers) won’t be any less hectic.
Y/N pushed the door to Flourish and Blotts open, unable to stop the way her nose scrunched at the messy array of the bookshop. The bell above the door chimed, and Y/N quietly shut the door behind her. Her eyes skimmed over the various shelves, the scent of parchment and ink filling her senses. She stepped forward, eyeing the books about charms as the tip of her metal finger ring grazed over the spines.
Y/N always considered herself a talented observer, noticing even the small details: the way the shopkeeper’s eyes darted between customers as he scribbled something in his book, the occasional yawn that escaped the man browsing in the Magical Creatures section, the small spider that ever so slowly built its web in the corner above the door, and—
Her gaze drifted to him. Harry Potter.
Standing by a stack of Defense Against the Dark Arts books, the famous boy who had survived the Dark Lord himself. Messy black hair that seemed untamable, slightly crooked glasses, and the iconic lightning-shaped scar she had read so much about. He was alone, flipping through one of the books with little enthusiasm.
Not a studious one? Y/N wondered as her lips upturned into a small, fabricated smile.
With deliberate steps, she approached him, polished red shoes clicking against the floor. “Excuse me,” she interrupted, her voice light as she eyed the boy, observing his reactions intently. “Would you happen to know which one of these textbooks would be the most helpful for D.A.D.A.?”
Harry's head turned up sharply, a startled expression on his face as his eyes immediately landed on the girl. The first thing that caught his attention was her accent, thick and obviously foreign, though clear enough to be easily understood. The next thing he noticed was that she was unbelievably pretty— a composed, aristocratic air about her, but not in the arrogant way Malloy was.
He blinked at her owlishly for a moment, not processing what was said to him before he tried to manage a response. “You— your accent, it’s German— um, right?”
Despite the way Harry immediately cringed at his own words, Y/N’s smile broadened faintly and amusement flashed in her eyes. “Ah, you surprise me. Most assume French when they first hear me speak,” she explained, tilting her head slightly as she analyzed him. “But yes, my mother is German. My father, however, is French.”
Harry nodded, a bit too quick as he was clearly glad he hadn’t immediately made a complete fool of himself infront of the pretty foreign girl. “Oh. I just noticed the accent, I guess. I’m Harry, by the way.”
Y/N’s eyes flickered in curiosity, noting the way he avoided introducing himself with his surname. Most people who did that were muggleborns, who didn’t understand the importance of names in the Wizarding world— but Harry Potter, obviously, wasn’t a muggleborn. She wondered if he didn’t like his fame— well, she could hardly blame him if that were the case. Still, she filled the information away for later.
“Y/N Ludenberg,” she introduced herself smoothly, deciding not to reveal that she knows exactly who he is yet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harry.”
Y/N studied Harry for another moment, considering her next words as she observed him critically. This boy held potential— not in terms of him defeating the Dark Lord, but in how he could be useful to her. “I must admit, I’m new to Hogwarts,” she added casually, picking up a book as she glanced over the cover. “I’ll be transferring this year.”
Harry’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really? From where?”
“Durmstrang,” she answered, watching him out of the corner of her eye. She noted how his eyes widened and something akin to wonder crept in— perhaps he was excited to hear information about other wizarding schools? Odd, but given he had allegedly been raised by muggles, wouldn’t surprise her that much.
“Durmstrang? That’s— uh, somewhere in Norway, right?” Harry wondered, head tilted to the side slightly as he thought. Y/N couldn’t help but think he seemed like an owl like that, especially with the glasses.
“Around there,” Y/N answered with a cryptic smile in his direction. “My family recently moved to Britain, so naturally, I had to switch schools. I’m quite looking forward to the change.”
Harry seemed to want to ask more about Durmstrang, but before the conversation could continue, the bell rang as the door was pushed open and two pairs of feet immediately hurried toward them.
“Harry!” someone, who was clearly less than pleased, yelled. Y/N raised her head to see a ginger boy with freckles and a bushy-haired brunette— Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, Y/N quickly recognized. “It’s dangerous to just run off like that—“ Hermione immediately cut herself off from ranting at Harry as she took note of the fact someone else was there.
“Who’s this?” Ron asked, staring at Y/N in blatant confusion.
Before Harry could answer, a pleasant smile placed itself on Y/N’s face and she answered herself. “I’m Y/N Ludenberg, a transfer student from Durmstrang. I’ll be joining you all at Hogwarts this year.”
Ron blinked at her for a moment in shock, a hint of wariness joining his expression at the school’s name. “Durmstrang? Blimey, that’s pretty different from Hogwarts, isn’t it?”
“Quite different,” Y/N agreed with a small, amused lilt to her tone. “But I’m sure I’ll adapt.“
Hermione, who had simply been watching her curiously up till this point, spoke up. “You sound French,” she noted, eyes narrowed in confusion as she tried to place Y/N’s accent.
Y/N’s eye glimmered in amusement and she raised a hand to partially obscure her grin. “Ah, there it is. As I was just telling Harry, my mother is German, but my father is French. People often assume the latter first.”
Hermione made a small ‘oh’ sound of realization, eyes lighting up at the information. “That's interesting,” she said thoughtfully, glancing over Y/N, who was around the same height as the three. “You’ll be in third year, then?”
“Indeed,” Y/N confirmed with a brief nod. Then, she purposefully paused for a moment before adding, “though I expect it may take me some time to catch up with the curriculum.”
“Hogwarts isn’t too hard. You’ll be fine, I reckon,” Ron shrugged.
Harry, clearly trying to join the conversation again, decided to pipe up. “Yeah, and the professors are pretty decent. Except for Snape.”
Y/N stored that information away for later— Snape, although not a pureblood name, was one that she had heard of before. He was apparently a genius in potions, and had a mastery in it. Y/N was quite curious as to how someone like that ended up teaching at a school. “I’m sure I’ll manage. In any case, I’m looking forward to meeting my new yearmates.”
“Well, if you’re in Gryffindor, we’ll see you around a lot, I guess. Do they sort Durmstrang students like that?” Ron wondered.
“No. We’re sorted by our raw power level and capabilities. I am admittedly rather curious as to where I’ll be sorted,” Y/N confessed, tilting her head as she held a hand to her chin, smile still playing on her lips. “Based purely off what I have heard so far, I’m guessing I will be Slytherin, the house of the ambitious.”
Ron’s eyebrows raised at that, his surprise not at all masked. “Really? They’re not the most welcoming sort, though.”
“Ah, I’m sure all will turn out fine. And I imagine Hogwarts is full of surprises, is it not?” Y/N’s smile widened, a knowing glint in her eyes.
“Yeah, surprises is one way to put it,” Harry muttered, a bitter note in his voice as he thought back on his previous years.
Y/N didn’t miss it, and she smiled in a way that made Harry feel like he was under a microscope. “I will be sure to keep an eye out for those surprises, then. Hogwarts sounds more exciting by the minute.”
“You could say that,” Harry offered with a sheepish smile, unsure where he would even begin with the stuff he’s witnessed over his last two years at Hogwarts alone. For some reason, he felt like it was only going to get worse.
“Well, we’ll probably see you on the train,” Ron said, glancing briefly at the other two before adding, “you can sit with us if you want.”
“Yes,” Hermione nodded in agreement, a genuine smile on her face. “We leave for Hogwarts in a few days, but if you need help navigating Diagon Alley in the meantime, we’ll be at the Leaky Cauldron— if you know where that is?”
“Yes, I do,” Y/N gave a brief nod of confirmation. “Thank you, that is quite generous of you. I’m sure I’ll manage for now, but perhaps we will cross paths again before the school year starts.”
The conversation faded after that, but Y/N had already achieved what she wanted. Her presence had been noted by Harry Potter and his friends as a friendly— if slightly mysterious —foreign transfer student.
As the trio walked out of the bookshop together, Harry spared one more curious glance toward her, and Y/N allowed a satisfied smile to spread across her face. She had her opening move. Now, the game could begin.