Harriet's POV
As soon as he departs, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions seems to lose a degree of its vibrancy. Harriet, now alone amidst the rustle of fabrics and the murmur of spells, is left with the echo of his presence. She stands on the stool, the weight of her new robes unfamiliar yet comforting against her skin. The seamstress fusses over the hem, her voice a distant drone that barely registers in Harriet's thoughts.
Clutched tightly in her grasp is the book he had recommended—Occlumency for Beginners. The embossed title feels like a tangible connection to the enigmatic boy who had vanished as swiftly as he had appeared. She wonders why she had accepted it, why she had felt compelled to follow his advice. Was it the confidence in his voice, or the way his eyes seemed to hold an unspoken promise of hidden truths?
Selwyn.
That was the name Draco Malfoy had used, spat out with a mix of disdain and reluctant respect. Harriet hadn't asked for it. In the moment, it hadn't seemed important. But now, with the silence of his absence pressing in around her, she realizes her oversight. She should have asked. She should know the name of the person who had, for a fleeting moment, made her feel something other than the weight of her own destiny.
Selwyn.
The name alone set him apart from the others. Unlike Draco, who wore his arrogance like a badge of honour, Selwyn carried an air of quiet certainty. He didn't demand attention; he commanded it effortlessly, with a poise that spoke of a life lived in the shadows of power and influence.
And then there was Hagrid, with his heart on his sleeve and a protective instinct that bordered on overbearing. Selwyn, by contrast, offered no empty reassurances or unwanted sympathy. He treated her as an equal, as someone capable of understanding the subtleties and complexities of their world.
His calm demeanour, his measured words—they had left an impression on Harriet. In his presence, she had felt
Selwyn was calm. Measured. Like someone who already understood how the world worked. And for a brief moment—he made her feel like she could, too. A strange feeling settled in her chest. Something close to regret. She should have asked his name.
Harriet stood on the stool in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, the seamstress's hands fluttering around her as she pinned the new robes to fit. The air was heavy with the scent of fabric and magic, but her mind was elsewhere—with the boy who had left such a profound impression on her.
Selwyn. The name echoed in her mind, a whisper she couldn't ignore. It was a name that carried weight, that spoke of a lineage steeped in ancient magic and arcane knowledge. It was a name that Draco Malfoy, with his sneering arrogance, had uttered with a mix of disdain and grudging recognition.
But why hadn't she asked for it herself? Why had she allowed him to slip away without even knowing the name of the person who had, for the first time, treated her like an equal rather than a legend? His presence had been both comforting and intimidating, a paradox that Harriet couldn't quite reconcile.
She clutched the book he had given her—Occlumency for Beginners. It was a subject she had never heard of, yet his recommendation had been so compelling, so persuasive, that she hadn't even questioned it. The embossed title felt like a lifeline, a connection to a world she was only just beginning to understand.
Harriet's thoughts were interrupted by Madam Malkin's voice, soft yet insistent. "There you are, dear. All ready for Hogwarts." The seamstress stepped back, her eyes twinkling with a kind of knowing warmth that made Harriet feel momentarily at ease.
"Thank you," Harriet murmured, stepping down from the stool and looking at herself in the mirror. The robes hung perfectly on her frame, the fabric shimmering subtly with enchantment. She looked like a witch—like someone who belonged in the wizarding world.
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