𝐏𝐀𝐑·𝐀·𝐃𝐎𝐗
\ per-ə-ˌdäks \
(n.) a seemingly absurd or self-contradictory statement or proposition that when investigated or explained may prove to be well founded or true
[ cedric diggory x fem!oc ]
[ goblet of fire - ? ]
[ harry potter au ]
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"Don't call her that!"
"What? Mudblood?" the boy leered at Magnus. "Stay out of it, Windsor—it's what she is."
Eloise's eyes strayed towards the boy who had defended her and realized why he sounded so familiar—he had an emerald-and-silver knitted scarf just like hers wrapped snuggly around his neck. It was Magnus Windsor, the boy who sat behind her in Potions.
"Bloody first years, think they're fuckin' brilliant," the older boy sneered at his friends before shoving a finger into Eloise's shoulder, making her stumble back clumsily into the column behind her. "You're a stain in our house, y' know that?"
She blinked up at the fifth year who was towering over her, feeling oddly defiant. "Fuck off."
As Magnus doubled over in surprised laughter, Eloise felt a weird sense of satisfaction—she'd never cursed before, ever.
It really is a slippery slope, she realizes.
· · ──── · ❈ · ──── · ·
THE ENGINE SHRIEKED as the train rumbled lowly, lurching forward into movement a moment later. Sitting in a small compartment was Eloise Ryu, a parchment journal open on her lap with the feather of her quill fluttering against her chin.
"Bloody hell—are those letters or numbers?"
Eloise didn't look up. "Neither."
Magnus Windsor sent her a deadpan look as he slid the compartment door closed behind him and dropped onto the bench across from her. "Don't tell me you've been scratching your quill into that thing the entire summer," he quipped, narrowing his eyes with silent judgement.
Without looking up from her notebook, Eloise just offered him a crude gesture. With no hesitation, he threw one right back.
As most Slytherins were, Sir Magnus Windsor was the purest of purebloods.
As an undiagnosed prodigy and the Quidditch Captain of the Slytherin team with the perfect dash of vanity, Magnus could've been the pride of the Windsor family.
Unfortunately, he also could not give two shits about blood purity.
The Slytherin Muggle-born and the pureblood blood traitor.
What a pair they made.
At Magnus' voice, Queenie appeared soundlessly from behind her companion's trunk on the overhead compartment before stretching with a quiet yawn. She lazily blinked her violet eyes and dropped down gracefully beside Eloise with a whiny mewl. Magnus absent-mindedly grabbed the spare quill that had been peeking out from Eloise's bag and waved it tauntingly at the cat, snickering as she swiped a paw at it in annoyance.
