Invisible String | TVD x WIZARDING WORLD

JUST A LITTLE MISHAP

Diana stepped onto the Hogwarts Express like she had all the time in the world. No rush, no nerves—just quiet confidence, like she was here to watch, not belong. Yet.

Her dark eyes swept over the chaos of the corridor—kids shouting, owls flapping around like they owned the place, and the smell of... was that treacle tart? Someone clearly packed well. She slipped her hand into her pocket, fingers brushing her wand. Not because she was worried. Just habit.

Then she saw it.

A compartment halfway down the train with purple smoke—yes, actual smoke—leaking out from under the door. It curled into the air like it was trying to sneak away, thick and glittery, like cotton candy with attitude. Other students were giving it a wide berth, whispering and side-eyeing it like it was cursed.

Diana? She walked straight up to it and knocked once—because manners—and slid the door open.

The smoke hit her in the face with a scent that was half fireworks, half burnt marshmallows. Inside looked like a prank went off during a party: feathers, sparkles, chaos. Two redheaded boys were sitting right in the middle of it, looking way too pleased with themselves.

Diana didn't even blink.

"Mind if I sit?" she asked, casual as anything, like this was her fifth prank explosion of the day.

One twin blinked up at her. "Blimey," he said. "Did we die and go to heaven?"

The other coughed dramatically. "Makes sense. Only explanation for an angel showing up."

Diana smirked. "Do you guys do this often or am I just really lucky today?"

The first twin stood and gave an overly formal bow, brushing glitter off his robes. "Fred Weasley, professional troublemaker. Also the better twin."

The other stepped forward, grabbed her hand like she was royalty. "George Weasley. The fun one. Don't let him fool you—he just talks louder."

Diana raised a brow, amused. "Better versus fun? Guess I'll need proof before I choose a favorite."

"Oh, she's cheeky," Fred said, grinning.

"We love cheeky," George added.

With a flip of her hair like she'd just been invited to tea with the Queen, Diana plopped down across from them. "Guess you're stuck with me."

Fred dropped into his seat again. "Can't say we're complaining. You definitely improved the view."

George leaned forward, a little curious sparkle in his eyes. "So, mystery girl, got a name?"

She paused for a second—just to keep them on their toes.

"Diana," she said. "Diana Salvatore."

Fred tilted his head. "Salvatore? Hmm. Doesn't ring any bells."

"Good," she replied smoothly. "I like it that way."

George narrowed his eyes, playful. "You don't sound like you're from here."

"You've got sharp ears," she said with a faint smile.

"Accent's different," he went on. "Not super posh. Not totally not-posh either. Somewhere in between."

Fred leaned back, looking her up and down with exaggerated drama. "So, you're like... utterly beautiful, got an accent, and walk straight into trouble like it's your second home? You must be American."

Diana raised a brow. "Is that a problem?"

Fred waved his hand dramatically. "No problem at all. It's charmingly reckless."