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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Draco and I were bound by an arranged marriage, even though we were only twenty. We had always been enemies, never able to stand each other. But with families as powerful and proud as ours, choice was never part of the equation.
I’m Y/N Zabini — Blaise’s younger sister. Only a year separates us, but we might as well be strangers. I’m the middle child, wedged between Blaise, the golden son, and Izzy, our baby sister who just started her first year at Hogwarts.
Billy Hargrove and his stepsister, Max Mayfield, had moved to Hawkins a couple of days ago. Their parents had fallen in love fast, and suddenly they were forced into the same house.
Draco Malfoy had always known that summers at Malfoy Manor were anything but ordinary. This year, though, promised to be even stranger. At seventeen, just home from his sixth year at Hogwarts, he had expected a quiet summer of private study, dueling practice, and perhaps a bit of leisure. Instead, as he stepped into the grand entryway of the Malfoy Manor, his parents were waiting, poised and perfectly composed.
I’m Y/N, seventeen years old, a proud Gryffindor, and for as long as I can remember, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I have been inseparable. We’ve faced everything together since our very first year — victories, battles, laughter, and fear. We’ve always been unbreakable. And through it all, Draco Malfoy has been our sworn rival, a constant thorn in our side.