The Parenting Project · Y/n story by @cithoney

The Charms classroom hummed with the usual pre-class chatter, sunlight streaming through the tall Gothic windows and catching the dust motes dancing in the air. The scent of old parchment and polished wood filled the room.

Professor Flitwick

clapping his tiny hands together from atop his stack of books Settle down, everyone, settle down! We have a very exciting, and very important, project to begin today!

Professor Flitwick, beaming, waved his wand. A large, silken-covered object floated from his desk to hover in the center of the room.

Professor Flitwick

For the next month, your primary focus in this class will be the Household Charms project! This, he said with a flourish, pulling the silk away, is your charge.

Revealed was a remarkably lifelike, chubby-cheeked baby doll, swaddled in soft blue blankets. It gurgled peacefully for a moment, its glassy eyes blinking.

Professor Flitwick

This is no ordinary doll! It is enchanted to respond to a suite of household and nurturing charms. It will require feeding, changing, soothing, and entertaining. Its reactions will be your grade.

A wave of nervous murmurs swept the classroom.

Professor Flitwick

And for this project, you will be working in groups of six! The groups have been assigned at random by the Sorting Hat itself, to encourage inter-house cooperation!

With another flick of his wand, a parchment unfurled in the air, names glittering upon it. Your eyes found your name, and your stomach dropped. Group Three: Y/n, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini.

Ron Weasley

from a few desks away, his voice a horrified whisper You've got to be joking.

Mattheo Riddle

a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face Oh, this is going to be brilliant.

As if on cue, the enchanted baby in the center of the room, which had been quiet, screwed up its face. It began to whimper, a low, distressed sound that quickly escalated into a full-blown, ear-piercing wail.

Draco Malfoy

sneering, his nose wrinkled in distaste Tell me we don't actually have to touch that thing.

The baby's cries grew more frantic. With a small pop of displaced air, it vanished from its floating cushion and reappeared on the very highest, dustiest shelf at the back of the classroom, wailing incessantly. The six of you were left staring at each other, and then up at the shrieking magical infant.