Diffindo - harry potter

beginning

Albus Dumbledore had been wrong before.

The illusion of the night sky within the Great Hall of Hogwarts flashed in a blinding strike of lightning. Sharp droplets fell onto an invisible shield, protecting the student beneath from its downpour. With a simple wave of the headmaster's hand, the ashen clouds withdrew and made way for a blanket of twinkling stars. Shimmering sparks against an onyx sky stared down at the first-year students as they were led into the Hall by a witch with a pointed hat. Their faces showed appreciation and wonder for the charming ceiling, and Dumbledore warmly smiled as they approached. How wonderful it is to accept another generation of witches and wizards into Hogwarts.

Cadaverous skin against hair the colour of soot, the Nott twins stood with squared shoulders as the sorting hat sung its merry tune. At the sweet age of eleven, Dumbledore could tell with ease they were nothing but the epitome of their family name. The heirs of royalty among all wizards, their veins full of the purest magical blood. But there was something quite odd about the twins which Dumbledore noticed, and he wished he had been wrong, but the old headmaster was sickly reminded of a boy he failed to save fifty years ago.

As young Ada Nott approached the Sorting Hat, she held no fear or nervous anticipation like her peers. Instead, the witch hid behind a cool mask of nonchalance, the slightest curve of her upper lip as if she knew what you were thinking. There were very few who could hold themselves in such a confident manner as if she had the entire world in the palm of her hand. The girl appeared sweet, innocent, harmless. But the alarming rise of her eyebrow as she locked eyes with the headmaster told another story. Her knees stuck together like glue as she gracefully placed herself upon the stool, back straight like the tallest of trees. She reeked of aristocracy and power. Then, as she gazed towards the back of the Hall, her melon lips twitched in delight, as the Sorting hat bellowed "SLYTHERIN!" the second it touched her onyx head.

Roundish features and azure eyes framed by midnight eyelashes, the beautiful first year held herself in high regard as the Sorting Hat was removed. Dumbledore didn't miss the touch of relief in the drop of her shoulders. The freshly sorted Slytherin reacted imperially as she inclined her head towards the uproarious Slytherin table, pleased to have gained yet another student of such high calibre. Dumbledore watched as she sat beside Draco Malfoy and acknowledged him with a sophisticated nod. Pureblood children often were only allowed to surround themselves with the company of the same status. Her calm posture showed that she had already been acquainted with several students at the table.

Professor McGonagall called out the second Nott child, and the headmaster noticed with intrigue that Occlumency boarded the young wizard's mind. The dark-haired boy hadn't reached his actual height in his young age, yet he held himself like an adult with his crisp ironed uniform and tilted chin. His eyes matched the oceanic blue of his sister, along with inky curls perfectly combed on his head. He allowed himself a subtle glance towards the Slytherin table at his twin, who nodded her head in encouragement. This time, the sorting hat took longer to contemplate the young wizard's fate, but ultimately the decision was made with a shout of "SLYTHERIN!"

It seemed that the Nott boy was less secretive with his emotions as he breathed an audible sigh of alleviation. His curls bounced as he took long, confident strides towards the Slytherin table and was welcomed with pats on the shoulder and handshakes of congratulations. Both twins were embraced by the Slytherin house immediately, which did not come as a surprise. The Nott family was one of the oldest wizarding families, notorious for their admiration of the Slytherin house. They raised their children strictly, idealising the highest possible amount of ambition and success. Blood purity came second only to achievement - but pureblood families still held it in high regard. Dumbledore's stomach squeezed at the thought of the darkness that infected these children since birth.

"Potter, Harry!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall, and Dumbledore felt his chest warm as he witnessed the child he had left on a doorstep eleven years prior climb the steps in the Great Hall. The headmaster felt himself grow frustrated as he noticed the boys' knobby knees and skinny shoulders, his cheeks sunk into his skull, a tell-tale sign of malnourishment. He appeared frightened, yet he obeyed the tradition by climbing onto the stool. The dusty sorting hat covered his eyes, and the Hall continued to fill with the hiss of whispering students.

Ada Nott had watched the Boy Who Lived with intrigue as the sorting hat took over a minute to sort him. She tilted her head as she witnessed his mouth whisper something unknown to the hat. Theodore leaned into her ear and whispered, "He's asking for anything but Slytherin."

"Interesting," mumbled Ada as she held her chin in the palm of her hand, her eyes not leaving the boy's figure as the magical hat sorted him into Gryffindor. The table of lions cheered raucously, some even thundering their fists onto the wood in excitement. Two red-head twins a few years older began to sing loudly, 'We got Potter! We got Potter!'. Ada felt her lip twitch as the small, inky haired boy blushed at the attention, his head down in embarrassment. Who would've thought that the celebrated Boy Who Lived would be humble after his accomplishments? Ada couldn't imagine not relishing in the fame that came with defeating the Dark Lord, especially at such a young age.

"Pfft, what a bloody pillock," spat Draco Malfoy, his eyes narrowed dangerously towards the Boy Who Lived. The platinum-haired boy sat straighter in his seat and flashed his silver Malfoy ring as he clenched his fists.

"Potter does not understand what is good for him. No one refuses the hand of a Malfoy," bristled Draco, his lips pulled into a thin line of displeasure as he glared at the Gryffindor table.

"Your ego is nauseating, Malfoy," drawled Ada as Dumbledore clapped his hands and a feast materialised in front of them. The headmaster watched as the twins kept close, their eyes locking in the form of secret communication between them. Between the tut of Ada's lips at Malfoy's complaints and Theodore's calculated stare throughout the Hall, there was an aura of magical energy. The Nott twins were enigmatic, an electric spark between their fingers, an abundance of knowledge in their minds, not to mention their matching smiles, perfected to enchant whoever they wanted. Yes, Dumbledore had seen such unhinged power before, sitting at that very table.

Dumbledore had been wrong many times in his long life. The face of his sister Ariana flashed in his mind, and his heart ached as he accepted the fault of her demise. He had failed people in the past, yet as he witnessed the cruel smirk Ada gave an oblivious Harry Potter, like a hunter stalking her prey, he couldn't find remorse in his heart for her.

Instead, Dumbledore promised himself he would not allow Harry Potter to succumb to the hands of darkness, and he would keep a close eye on the Nott girl, for she emitted the same dark energy as a Tom Riddle, a boy with too much ambition and not enough love in his heart.

This is where our story begins, with a choice made by a man with a broadened mind. A decision forged with unforgotten stereotypes, an ugly ultimatum between good people and deatheaters. Dumbledore knew little about Ada Nott when she entered the Great Hall for the first time, and that was his first mistake. To dip into his own prejudice and see her only for the evils of her last name. Then, with a final glance towards the Slytherin table, Albus Dumbledore sealed his fate and pathed the way for his next error. He would come to witness his lapse in judgment from the afterlife when Ada Nott would raise her hand against the wizarding world.

And on that day, she will replace God's name with her own.