Chapter 1 — The Return
Talia
Talia Zabini stepped through the arched doorway of the Great Hall, the dim September sunlight filtering through the enchanted ceiling, its overcast sky mirroring the tension coiled within her like a serpent ready to strike. The soft hum of chatter around the long tables faltered, heads turning in unison as if drawn by the same spell. She had expected this. She welcomed it. The whispers barely masked behind cupped hands—their stares—were a testament to the summer she had spent reclaiming the parts of herself she’d once let others crush.
Her robes swished against the polished stone floors, each step measured, deliberate. The Silver Serpent Ring encircling her finger warmed faintly, a steadying presence against the churn of her nerves. She adjusted it with a subtle twist, letting the candlelight catch its glow, and lifted her chin slightly. Let them wonder who I am now, she thought, her hazel eyes scanning the room with sharp precision.
The Slytherin table lay closest to the entrance, commanding the room from its place beneath the emerald green banners. At its center sat Draco Malfoy, his platinum blond hair catching the flickering light like a crown atop his throne. Lounging with the ease of someone who had never once questioned his own authority, he cast her a glance, his lips curving into a faint sneer. But Talia’s attention slid past him to the figure sitting just beyond. It always did.
Theodore Nott.
Theo’s lean frame was draped across the bench with the kind of careless elegance that only came with years of practice. One arm rested over the back of his seat while the other toyed idly with the edge of a goblet. His dark brown hair fell in precise disarray, and his icy blue eyes—aloof and calculating—locked onto hers the moment she entered. They did not waver. Talia’s shoulders stiffened as an unbidden memory clawed its way to the surface: the sting of his cutting words whispered in the corridors, the flick of his wand that had sent her sprawling in front of their peers. Her fingers tightened briefly on the strap of her bag, but she forced the memory back into the recesses of her mind. He would not see her flinch.
Sliding into a seat a few spaces down from Draco, Talia let her bag fall to the floor with practiced indifference. She reached for the sleek handle of a silver goblet, her fingers steady despite the weight of every gaze that lingered. The cool metal grounded her as she poured pumpkin juice, the faint trickle of liquid punctuating the heavy silence.
Across the table, Theo shifted, the movement subtle but deliberate. His gaze remained fixed on her, a quiet challenge wrapped in calm detachment. And then, as predictably as the morning tide, came the jab.
“I see the summer agreed with you, Zabini.” His voice was low, smooth, and threaded with sarcasm, each word carefully crafted to draw blood. He paused, as if savoring the charged air between them, before delivering his next strike. “Or is this just another mask for the crowd?”
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, time seemed to stretch. Talia’s grip on the goblet tightened, the ache of old insecurities threatening to rise like a tide against the fortress she’d spent months building. But the warmth of her ring steadied her, its faint glow catching her eye as if offering reassurance. Slowly, deliberately, she set the goblet down and turned her gaze to Theo, meeting his icy stare with a calm, unflinching intensity.
“Better to wear a mask than to be one,” she said evenly, her voice smooth and sharp as steel. “Though I imagine the distinction might be lost on you, Nott.”
The retort sliced through the silence like a hex, precise and deliberate. A ripple of murmurs coursed down the Slytherin table, and a younger student near the edge stifled a laugh behind his hand. Talia caught the flicker in Theo’s expression—the barest narrowing of his eyes, the faint clench of his jaw—as if her words had struck deeper than he’d anticipated. It was gone almost instantly, replaced by the practiced apathy that fit him like armor. But she had seen it.
Before Theo could respond, Draco’s low chuckle broke the tension. “Well, well,” he drawled, leaning back with an air of smug amusement. “It seems our dear Talia found her tongue over the summer. How… unexpected.”
The laughter that followed was scattered, uncertain, and faintly strained. Talia let it wash over her, her gaze lingering on Draco for a beat longer than necessary before shifting to her plate. Let them laugh. Let them misinterpret her quiet. They would see soon enough.
---
The morning speeches ended with the usual mix of pomp and tedious formality, and Talia made her way through the castle’s shadowed corridors toward the Slytherin common room. The hum of whispered conversations faded behind her, leaving only the rhythmic echo of her footsteps against the stone floors. Her mind lingered on the tension of the Great Hall, on Theo’s words and the way his gaze had burned with something she couldn’t name. She adjusted the strap of her bag, her shoulders rolling back as if shaking off the weight of the morning.
The greenish glow of the common room greeted her as she stepped through the concealed entrance. The enchanted windows beneath the Black Lake rippled with light, casting fluid shadows on the walls. The faint rush of water above filled the silence, soothing and steadying.
“Talia!”
The bright voice cut through her thoughts, and she turned just in time to see Daisy Parkinson bounding toward her. Red curls framed Daisy’s lively face as she pulled Talia into a warm hug, her robes faintly scented with lavender.
“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me,” Daisy teased, pulling back to study Talia with an exaggerated look of appraisal. “But Merlin, look at you. You’re glowing. Whatever potion you’ve been brewing this summer, I want the recipe.”
Talia laughed, the sound soft but genuine. Around Daisy, her guard came down naturally, like unspoken permission. “No potions involved,” she said, brushing her fingers over the Silver Serpent Ring. “Just… work.”
Daisy tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her green eyes, but instead of pressing further, she grinned and reached into her robes. “Here,” she said, presenting a small box with a flourish. “A little something for the new and improved Talia Zabini.”
Talia’s brow furrowed as she opened the box, revealing a delicate pendant encasing a shard of crystal that seemed to pulse faintly, like a heartbeat. The Star-Touched Pendant. Her chest tightened as the glow reflected in her hazel eyes, and an ache of unexpected emotion rose within her.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, her fingers brushing the pendant’s smooth surface. The crystal seemed to hum faintly against her touch, warm and alive.
“Made it myself,” Daisy said proudly. “A little Black Lake magic, for strength. In case you need a reminder that you’re not alone.”
For a moment, the noise and tension of the morning faded, replaced by the quiet warmth of Daisy’s words. Talia turned the pendant over in her hands, its glow mingling with the green-tinted light of the room. “Thank you, Daisy,” she said softly. “Really. It means a lot.”
Daisy waved her off with a grin. “Don’t mention it. Just promise me you’ll wear it when you’re kicking Malfoy’s ass this year.”
Talia’s lips curved into a faint smile as she slipped the pendant’s chain over her head. It settled against her chest with a reassuring hum, a quiet reminder of the support standing beside her. She adjusted her ring once more, the faint warmth of the two objects mingling as if offering strength in unison.
As the green light reflected off the pendant, Talia thought again of Theo’s cold gaze, of Draco’s biting laugh, and the challenges ahead. But the weight of the day felt lighter now, her resolve firmer. She wouldn’t let them define her anymore.
Not this year.
