"What's up, Malfoy?" Katarina's voice wakes me from my trance.
Today marks the day of my disappearance; no one knows what happened to me after the war.
My mother passed away trying to hide me from Voldemort's followers, who strongly believe that his son will rule them as he did. I want nothing to do with them. So, when she passed away, I promised myself to never look back at the old life and move on with a new persona.
This involved a lot of disguise, workouts, living among Muggles, and a couple of drunken tattoo mistakes.
"What's up, Black?" I return her question.
Walking through the alley with my new friend group is not something I ever imagined happening. After finding myself starving and on the edge of my deathbed, Nicklaus found me and hurriedly took me to the headmaster's office.
This school is different from Hogwarts; it's strategically hidden, sealed from every corner, ensuring no harm can be done to it.
When I arrived at the headmaster's office, I was promptly taken care of. They provided medical care, created a student file, and crafted a whole persona for me to start studying as a regular kid.
The story they told the students during my first year is that I'm an exchange student from France. Luckily, I know some French, and they explained that I had just awakened from a coma caused by a magical accident, which is why I'm repeating my final year.
Everyone bought the story and never asked questions until I met all the familiar faces, each with their own fake background stories.
Katrina and Ron are exceptions; they both come from pure-bloodlines and were forced to come help during the war. Ron is a survivor, and without Katarina, he would have been in dire straits.
What makes this place intriguing is the use of dark arts; they encourage it, stating that the only way to win against evil is by taking advantage of evil itself.
I think it's a genius plan, and I admire how they are all fearless.
Another interesting aspect of this school is the houses they were sorted into; they are like family, helping each other and using their strengths to compensate for each other's weaknesses, leading to no rivalry except for grades.
Hermione and I still compete on our grades, of course, and we compete with Ron, Katrina, and Mattheo, even though he is a genius who doesn't study.
"Are we finding new books?" I ask the group as we approach a Muggle library.
Unlike others, this library is hidden at the end of the alley, with strange books on mythical creatures, gods, random dark romance books, and a genre that I can't seem to understand—dreams; that's all it talks about.
"Like every time, Malfoy," Ron speaks as we approach the library.
The door is small and dark green; the smell of books welcomes us as soon as we walk in. The bell above us chimes, and we all scatter around, looking for anything that intrigues us.
This time of the month is where we spend looking for books outside the school, something to entertain ourselves with and not get lost in our past.
We all suffered, and we are all healing.
"See you all in two hours," I say heading towards the section that intrigues me.
"Here in two hours," they all say in unison and we spread across the library.
Just like the usual routine, we search for interesting books to take back with us. Every time, we all end up with different theological books, except for Ron.
He's a nightmare when it comes to tasks; two hours and he ends up back with a romance book that he found and more than likely have already read some books of the series.
If you can speed read, why choose to use it for something as stupid as that?
As I wander through the library, the shelves tower above me, filled with a diverse array of ancient and mystical tomes.
The air is heavy with the scent of aged parchment and the musty aroma of books that have weathered the test of time.
The lighting is subdued, casting a warm glow that enhances the mystical ambiance of the hidden library. The occasional creaking of the wooden floor underfoot adds to the library's character, creating an atmosphere that feels both timeless and enchanting.
Anyways, I find myself looking through the dreams section again. Each theory is more intriguing than the one before, making it seemingly impossible to find something that is of use.
I hate being in this position of indecisiveness; it's impossible.
Why can't the school's head office organize a spell that picks up the book and makes copies of them themselves? I still don't understand.
But it keeps our minds occupied, and that is why I'm here now, walking through the aisles of the library, trying to cancel out Ron's and Katarina's shameless whispers.
They can't seem to stop talking about their Muggle friend, while Mattheo and Hermione search for Muggle-level magic—embarrassing things if I'm being honest.
We have 30 minutes, and I'm still scanning for the book I might take. I've been through A to Q, and now I'm looking through the letter R shelves, and I can't seem to escape the words "reality" and "realms."
*
"Hey," Katrina speaks from behind me as I stand in the middle of the dark alley's road, book in hand, and my mind racing with thoughts.
The broad daylight casts long shadows, emphasizing the contrast between the dimly lit alley and the harsh sunlight.
The cold winter air bites at my skin, and I pull the collar of my black loose shirt closer, attempting to shield myself from the chill. Meanwhile, my loose dark black pants sway slightly with each step.
"Hmm," I reply, not bothered to look at the dark-haired girl.
The cold breeze sweeps through the alley, causing her dark green loose shirt to flutter. She wears a brown jacket that belongs to our friend Ron, a testament to the camaraderie within our group. Her brown loose jeans and dark brown boots complete the winter ensemble, providing a stark contrast to my all-black attire.
Hearing her boots echo louder means she's getting too close to my personal space.
"We're thinking of heading to a nearby coffee shop. I know you don't like staying out of the dark for too long like the rest of us, but I promise it's a safe place there. I mean, the owner of the place is practically our friend, and she knows about the wizarding world we live in. I don't think she'll mind more of us being there," she continues rambling, trying to convince me.
I tune her out, not bothered by more of her annoying voice. "Katarina," I warn, making sure she stops talking.
The cold air hangs between us as I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath; this is not the time for me to flip out on her when all she wants is for me to hang out with them.
"Okay, okay," I say in defeat, "but it won't happen again. Now, where is this coffee shop you can't stop talking about?" I say with a bored tone, eager to get back to my dorm room and sleep.
It's been a long morning in the chilly winter day, and the prospect of warmth in a coffee shop beckons.
As we approached the cafe, the atmosphere shifted noticeably.
The air buzzed with the warmth of friendly conversations and the enticing scent of freshly baked goods. The ambient chatter among our group members created a lively energy, contrasting with my more reserved demeanor as I trailed behind.
The anticipation of what awaited us inside lingered in the air. The cafe itself was bathed in a cozy light that spilled out through its inviting windows. The illumination seemed to dance on the sidewalk, creating an almost magical aura.
A charming glow highlighted the cafe's name, "Mercer," perched at the top, adding to the allure of the place. The exterior promised a haven of comfort and delight.
The doorbell chimed above us as we entered, the warmth intensified, embracing us like a familiar hug, welcoming us fully into this enchanting space. The lighting inside was soft, casting a gentle radiance that contributed to the establishment's homey feel.
It didn't resemble a typical shop; instead, it exuded the warmth of a comfortable living space. The two floors provided a sense of depth, and a door hinted at a hidden staircase, inviting curiosity about what lay beyond.
The aroma was a symphony of enticing scents—freshly brewed coffee, sweet pastries, and the delicate fragrance of various baked goods. The combination of these aromas created an olfactory haven, enticing us further into the cafe's embrace.
As I glanced around, the cafe revealed more of its character.
It wasn't just a place to grab a quick bite; it was a haven, a retreat from the outside world. The library balcony hinted at a deeper connection to literature and intellectual pursuits, adding a layer of sophistication to the otherwise warm and inviting ambiance.
The young lady behind the coffee bar, identified by our friends as Ren added to the overall charm of the cafe.
She wore a pink flower shirt with a brown apron on the top of it, her hair was styled to a messy bun, a few pieces framing her sharp features, Her skin tone radiates a warm and subtle light brown, akin to fine, sun-kissed sand, and her rosy cheeks add a captivating dimension to her complexion. Truly captivating.
"Hello Ren!" I heard Ron speak to her, and she smiled at him. Not the polite smile that Katarina has for Ron, more of an annoyed smile.
"Hot coffee with caramel again?" she asked him. Her voice was soft, and she had a hint of an accent.
"Yeah, same order like always, pretty girl," he replied with his fake tone of voice trying to charm her, and that answered why she looked annoyed — pathetic Ron.
"What can I get for you?" she said, looking at the rest of us now.
Hermione got a vanilla latte, Mattheo got an iced Americano. I kept looking at the baked goods, finally stating my order. "Blueberry cheesecake and iced vanilla matcha," I said nonchalantly. She looked at me curiously, then she picked up the cup to write the order.
"Name, please?" she asked softly.
"Malfoy" I answered, walking to where everyone was seated.
Immersed in the ambient sounds of the cafe. The doorbell chimed with each newcomer, blending with the hum of conversations and the faint clinking of cups and saucers.
"We're going to wait for our drinks, and then Ren will close the shop, and we'll head upstairs to her mini library," Katarina spoke excitedly, pointing to where we were going to be.
———
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