One day, you were resting your room, day-off, almost noon, finished everything you had to finish. ‘God, this is paradise,’ you thought to yourself before you heard Latin words as if it came from Harry Pot ter himself.

You sat up falling quiet, turning off your playlist from Spotify to hear what was wrong, the sound of an object fell against the ground loudly.

You headed down immediately to check what had fallen. When you went down, you saw your fruits everywhere.

A boy with messy coffee brown hair with a scar and circled-glasses was talking to his friends, holding something that resembled a wand. It was Harry Pōtter. He talked to a tall red-headed boy, Ron Weasléy, a girl by him that looked like the sister of the red-head, Ginny, a girl with brown bush hair, Hermione Grānger, and a boy with a round-face, Neville.

On the other side, there was Minverva McGonagáll, in her green robe and grey hair, a Slytherin boy with a bloody scar on his face, curly brown hair, Mattheô Riddle, a black man with a buzz cut also in Slytherin; Blaise Zabinī and a messy brunette, tanned skin boy who was smoking; Theodore Nött, discussing. As a platinum blonde looked around, Draco Mãlfoy. Draco was sneering at how simple your home looked, standing by his Slytherins/his friends.

“Ugh. A filthy mud-blood is here.. Merlin save me from the pathetic Muggle world”

The platinum blonde whined, occasionally emphasising his words by spitting them out as if it was poison. All nine of the others turned to you, smoke leaving Theodore’s lips from the cigarette.

(After the War so they’re 18-19)