My name is Y/N Mayfield. I’m seventeen years old—four years older than my little sister, Max. She’s thirteen, stubborn, reckless, always sneaking out with her skateboard under her arm. We’ve never been alike, not really.
I’m Y/N Blackwood, sixteen years old. I was born into wealth — the kind of wealth that goes back generations. My family prides itself on being pureblood, so pure that we’ve long lost track of where it all began. Ever since I was little, my future was already decided for me. I was to become the perfect wife, marry another pureblood from a family just as rich, and continue the legacy.
It’s been two years since my mother, Lidia Blackwood, passed away. My father Jakob Blackwood, has been lonely ever since—he misses her more than anything. But one evening, everything began to change. He met a woman at a ball: Narcissa Malfoy. Her husband had also died not long before.
Billy Hargrove’s father is dead, leaving Billy stuck with his stepmother and his younger stepsister, Max Mayfield. Billy never expected things to change the way they did—especially not when Max’s mom fell in love again. That relationship forced them all to move to Hawkins, a town Billy already hated before even stepping foot in it.
I’m friends with Aria Montgomery, Hanna Marin, Emily Fields, and Spencer Hastings. We used to be five—before Alison DiLaurentis disappeared last summer.
Tom Felton was in New York, taking a rare day off from rehearsals for his role as Draco Malfoy in The Cursed Child. The crisp autumn air of Central Park was refreshing as he walked his dogs, enjoying the rare quiet. After a while, he found a bench and sank into it, letting himself relax. His dogs sat obediently at his side, tail occasionally wagging, as he watched the world move lazily around him.
I’m Lord Voldemort’s daughter — seventeen years old, and a proud Slytherin. Draco Malfoy has been my best friend since childhood; we grew up together, inseparable, bound by a loyalty that no one could ever break. Even at Hogwarts, we were always side by side. He’s a year older than me, but that’s never mattered — our bond runs deeper than age or bloodlines.
Billy Hargrove and I dated all through high school—three full years of late nights, stolen kisses, and promises that felt unbreakable back then. We were happy. He was protective, intense in that way only Billy could be, and when things were good, they were really good. But eventually, we broke up. Our parents never approved of us, and after graduation, life pulled us in different directions.
Draco and I had always been enemies. We hated each other with everything in us — every word, every glare, every bitter exchange. We knew exactly how to hurt each other, not with spells or fists, but with sharp, cutting words. And yet, as much as I despised him, I never laid a hand on him. I’m also a Slytherin. Just friends with Gryffindors
I’m Blaise’s younger sister—only by a year—but we’re in the same year at Hogwarts. Somehow, that tiny difference has always felt enormous. He’s confident, charming, surrounded by friends. And me? I’ve always been the quiet one in his shadow.
Tom Felton’s mom and my mom have been long-distance best friends for years. They only manage to see each other once every couple of years — my mom living in Germany, Tom’s mom in England. Despite their close friendship, they’d never introduced their children to each other. Until tonight.
I’m Blaise’s younger sister, he’s 17 and I’m 16. At Hogwarts, we barely talk, but at home we’re always getting into trouble together. During the holidays, his best friend Draco practically lives at our place. Whenever he’s around, I usually retreat to my room. Still, I can’t help but notice he looks… well, good sometimes. Not that it matters. I’ve always pushed those thoughts aside. After all, to him, I’m nothing more than his best friend’s little sister.
Seventeen-year-old Tom Felton was in Germany with his mom, celebrating an award for his role as Draco Malfoy. On a busy street, his mom ran into an old friend, Lucinda, who proudly introduced her daughter. “She’s perfect—top grades, no smoking, no drinking.”
I’m Y/N Potter — Harry’s twin sister, though you’d never guess it by looking at us. We’re nothing alike. I’m a Gryffindor too, but that’s where the similarities pretty much end. Harry has his little circle and his hero-stuff; I have… well, my people.
I’m a student from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, though for the next few weeks we’re staying at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. I never imagined I’d be walking through these drafty stone corridors every morning, wrapped in my pale-blue school robes instead of the warm halls back home. But Beauxbatons students must continue classes, even here—so the schedule goes on.
Draco had been reading about an old myth, not about house-elves like Dobby, but about another kind entirely. Elves that looked almost human, save for their pointed ears, their striking, otherworldly beauty, and the long, flowing hair they were always said to have.
Tom Felton was seventeen when he attended a Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban premiere in Germany. The night glittered with camera flashes and cheering fans, but after the event, Tom slipped away with his mother — still dressed sharply in his suit, hair styled perfectly for the red carpet.