Invisible String | TVD x WIZARDING WORLD

TODAY WAS A FAIRYTALE

Dear diary,
I'm curled up on the couch in our Mystic Falls house, a ridiculously sugary mug of hot chocolate in hand—Caroline made it, so of course it tastes like a unicorn exploded in a candy shop. Still, it's warm. It's safe. It's home.

I keep thinking about everything that's happened this year, like my brain refuses to shut up about it. Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat's little identity crisis over where to put me, the feasts, the secrets, the ghosts (literal and emotional)... and now here I am, back where things make sense. Sort of.

The end-of-year feast was exactly what you'd expect: glitter, noise, and way too much red and gold. Gryffindor won the House Cup. Again. Because of course they did.

Honestly, I wasn't even hungry. I spent most of the feast rearranging food on my plate and pretending to listen while my brain played reruns of Dad's snarky one-liners and the way Care hums when she cooks. That's what I missed. Not floating candles or castle staircases that change direction whenever they feel like ruining your day.

Dumbledore stood up with his signature sparkle and gave one of his "you survived, congrats" speeches. He always manages to sound like he's handing out candy and existential crises at the same time.

I glanced at the absolute idiots I'm friends with, all beaming like they'd just saved the world again—which, knowing them, they probably had.

When the Cup was announced, and Gryffindor erupted like it was a surprise, I muttered a "Congrats" to Harry. He grinned like the dork he is.

"Can't complain, huh? First year and all that," he said.

"Yeah, just promise me I won't hear about this 'epic win' all summer."

Ron snorted, nudged me, and said something about Gryffindors being naturally awesome. I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw into next week.

I was ready to leave. Ready to breathe.

The Hogwarts Express felt like a sigh of relief in the shape of a train. I rode with the usual suspects until I spotted Fred and George wreaking some kind of low-level chaos up ahead and, obviously, I had to join.

"Diana!" Fred called, arms wide like he was welcoming a war buddy home.

"Back to the real world?" George asked, shoving a bright green package into my hands.

"I thought this was the real world," I shot back. "You know, magic and mayhem."

"Yeah, but this real world has homework. Ours doesn't."

Fred winked. "Open it later. And don't blame us when things start glowing."

Typical. Still, I smiled. With them, chaos felt like a choice.

The train ride blurred by. Hermione buried in books, Ron drooling on his robe, Harry looking like he was solving the universe by staring out the window. And me? Quietly counting the minutes till I was me again.

And then—King's Cross.

I stepped off the train and scanned the crowd like I was on autopilot. Searching for Dad's smirk and Care's too-perfect curls. My people. My weird little home.

But instead, I locked eyes with him.

Draco.

Of course.

He walked toward me like he had a right to. Same hair. Same stupid posture like the world owed him something. But the confidence had cracked.

"Diana," he said. "I know you wouldn't, but... if you ever wanted to write—Mum would want to hear from you."

I stared. He looked tired. Human. Almost.

But not enough.

"I don't owe you or her anything," I said, and I meant it. Then I turned my back on him—again—and this time it felt final.

Because right there was Dad. Arms open, smirking, completely Damon.

"Diana!" he shouted like he hadn't seen me in a hundred years instead of just one. He crushed me in a hug, nearly knocked the air out of me. "Took you long enough."

Care stood beside him like sunlight, all soft smiles and warmth.

"Welcome home, sweetheart."

We walked out of the station, and I didn't look back. Not once.

Not at Draco.
Not at the train.
Not at the life I was leaving behind.

Because the truth is, I didn't need to.

Now I'm here, tucked into a familiar couch with a sugar-high in a mug and silence that doesn't echo like dungeon walls.

Hogwarts taught me a lot—like how to survive magical mayhem, prank-proof my shoes (thanks again, Fred), and spot betrayal before it's even spoken. But this?

This is where I belong.

I don't know what's coming next. But for now, I'm home. And that's enough.