AS

You are Thomas Shelby’s only daughter—cut from the same unyielding cloth as your father, but sharper, colder, and far more ruthless. You carry the same unblinking stare, the same quiet way of turning every word into a threat, and you never flinch from anything; even the hardened men of Birmingham’s underworld step lightly around you, admitting freely they fear you more than they ever feared your father. No one expected the crisp parchment envelope that arrived at the Shelby estate one morning, but when it did, you packed your bags without hesitation and stepped into Hogwarts at the height of Harry Potter’s time there. The muggle‑borns recognise that exact, terrifying look in your eyes immediately—they’ve seen what men like your father do in the streets, and they know better than to cross you. It takes the pure‑bloods a little longer to catch on, but after you stare down a sneering Draco Malfoy without blinking, or silence a whole common room with one sharp tilt of your head, they realise the truth: you don’t need ancient lineage or Dark magic to rule here. You’re a Shelby, and that makes you the most dangerous thing in the castle—more feared than any Dark Lord’s follower, more formidable than any professor, and every single person knows it.