Snow drifted lazily beyond the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, pale flakes tumbling through a dawn sky painted in soft winter blues. The castle was only beginning to wake; owls crossed overhead carrying morning letters while students shuffled sleepily toward their House tables wrapped in scarves and heavy robes.
It was early enough that the Hall still carried a kind of peaceful quiet.
Which was exactly why Draco Malfoy had chosen this hour to drag Mira Silverthorne away from her mountain of Ministry proposals.
“You are taking a break,” he informed her for what was likely the sixth time since leaving the Serpent’s Wing.
Mira walked beside him with her hands tucked into the sleeves of her robes, silver-white hair catching the morning light from the corridor windows.
“I was taking a break.”
“You were reading legal subclauses while drinking cold tea.”
“That still counts.”
“It absolutely does not.”
A faint smile tugged at her lips despite the exhaustion shadowing her eyes.
Draco noticed.
He had been noticing too much lately.
The way she forgot meals when focused.
The way her shoulders tightened when she thought nobody was looking.
The way she carried responsibilities no first-year should even understand, much less shoulder willingly.
Which was precisely why he had appeared outside her chambers before sunrise and announced that if she did not come eat breakfast voluntarily, he would involve Professor Snape.
That had worked immediately.
Pip rode happily atop Mira’s shoulder, tiny paws gripping her robes while his dark eyes scanned the corridor for anything abandoned or interesting.
Briony trotted elegantly at Mira’s other side, her snow-white fur shimmering faintly gold beneath the castle torches. Students they passed openly stared at the rare female Niffler.
The pair of them had become minor legends around Hogwarts already.
Mostly because impossible magical artifacts kept appearing wherever they went.
Draco was beginning to suspect the castle itself liked them.
Or feared them.
Possibly both.
“You’ve been working on that department proposal for three days,” Draco said quietly as they descended the marble staircase.
“Two and a half.”
“That is not the important part of that sentence.”
“It might be.”
Draco sighed.
“Mira.”
She glanced toward him.
“You cannot save everyone if you collapse first.”
The softness in his voice made her expression change slightly.
Warmer.
More vulnerable.
“I know,” she said quietly.
“You say that,” Draco muttered, “yet somehow you still look like you’ve been negotiating with goblins for forty-eight hours.”
“That only happened once.”
“You say that like it improves things.”
A tiny laugh escaped her.
Draco felt absurdly victorious over something so small.
They stepped into the Great Hall together.
Warmth washed over them immediately.
The scent of fresh bread, cinnamon porridge, tea, and enchanted syrup filled the air while the ceiling reflected the pale colors of the winter dawn.
Most students were still half-asleep.
Neville Longbottom sat near the center of the Gryffindor table looking as though he had only barely survived waking up.
Theo Nott already had a book open beside his breakfast plate.
Daphne Greengrass was speaking quietly with Tracey Davis.
Blaise Zabini lounged with practiced elegance while reading the Daily Prophet.
And for one blissfully normal moment—
everything felt peaceful.
Draco guided Mira toward the Slytherin table before she could conveniently “forget” breakfast again.
“You’re eating actual food,” he declared.
“I always eat actual food.”
“You consumed half a chocolate frog and tea yesterday.”
“There were biscuits too.”
“That is worse.”
Mira smiled despite herself and sat beside him.
Pip immediately leapt from her shoulder onto the table.
“Pip,” Mira warned gently.
The Niffler froze.
Then slowly placed down the silver spoon he had apparently already stolen from somewhere nearby.
Draco stared, “How does he do that so quickly?”
Pip squeaked innocently.
Briony hopped gracefully into Mira’s lap instead, receiving an absentminded stroke behind the ears.
For several peaceful minutes, things remained calm.
Draco successfully forced Mira to eat toast.
Mira successfully distracted him into discussing Alaric Silverthorne’s last Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.
Phaedra appeared briefly atop one of the rafters like a silent constellation spirit before vanishing again into the castle heights.
And then Pip abruptly froze.
Briony’s ears twitched at the exact same moment.
Draco noticed immediately, “Oh no.”
Mira sighed softly, “What?”
“That look means they found something.”
Pip squeaked sharply and bolted from the table.
Briony launched after him like a streak of snow and gold.
Students jumped in surprise as both Nifflers darted across the Great Hall floor.
Draco closed his eyes briefly.
“Why is this our life now?”
Mira was already standing.
“Come on.”
They followed the creatures out of the Hall and into one of the side corridors near the Entrance Hall.
Pip was sniffing furiously along the edge of the stone wall while Briony circled nearby, making soft chirring sounds.
Then Pip dove beneath a narrow bench near the window alcove.
A triumphant squeak echoed out.
He emerged seconds later dragging something heavy across the stone floor.
A locket.
It was old.
Very old.
Gold filigree curled across its surface in delicate vines and tiny embossed flowers. A faded emerald sat at the center surrounded by intricate runic etching nearly worn smooth with age.
{A/N: What the locket looks like}
Briony nudged it gently with her nose.
Pip sat proudly beside it.
Mira crouched carefully.
“It’s beautiful…”
Draco frowned slightly.
“That’s not student jewelry.”
“No.”
Mira picked it up carefully.
The metal was warm despite the winter chill surrounding the castle.
There was magic inside it.
Old magic.
Not dangerous.
Just… deeply personal somehow.
Draco noticed the shift in her expression immediately.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
She turned the locket over.
Tiny initials were engraved near the clasp.
A.L.
Draco blinked.
“That narrows things down absolutely nowhere.”
Mira laughed softly.
But then her brows furrowed.
“There’s residual protection magic on it.”
“Family enchantments?”
“I think so.”
Pip chirped proudly.
Briony nudged Mira’s hand again as if urging her onward.
Draco sighed dramatically.
“Right. Of course. Another mysterious magical artifact discovered before breakfast.”
“We’re still eating breakfast afterward.”
“We’d better be.”
Mira smiled faintly and stood.
“We should bring it to Professor Dumbledore.”
“You assume he knows what random century-old jewelry hidden in Hogwarts belongs to?”
Mira glanced toward him.
“Draco.”
He sighed again.
“Fine. Ridiculous question. Of course he probably does.”
Dumbledore’s office smelled faintly of cinnamon tea and parchment when they arrived.
The gargoyle leapt aside after Mira gave the password, and the spiral staircase carried them upward into the circular office bathed in gentle morning light.
Fawkes rested quietly upon his perch near the window.
The former Headmasters snored softly within their portraits.
And Albus Dumbledore himself sat behind his desk reading several floating letters simultaneously.
His blue eyes twinkled immediately when they entered.
“Miss Silverthorne. Mr. Malfoy.” His gaze shifted downward knowingly. “And I suspect two very proud Nifflers.”
Pip puffed his chest proudly.
Briony sat gracefully beside Mira.
Draco folded his arms.
“They found something again.”
“Ah.”
Dumbledore sounded entirely unsurprised.
Mira stepped forward carefully and placed the locket upon the desk.
“We couldn’t identify the owner.”
Dumbledore’s expression softened the instant he saw it.
Not curiosity.
Recognition.
Real recognition.
The room became unexpectedly quiet.
Even Draco noticed it.
Dumbledore reached toward the locket with unusual gentleness.
For several moments, he simply stared at it.
Then he smiled softly to himself.
“Well,” he murmured. “I never thought I would see this again.”
Mira blinked.
“You know who it belongs to?”
“Oh yes.”
He turned the locket carefully in his hands.
“This belonged to Augusta Longbottom.”
Draco stared.
“Neville’s grandmother?”
“Indeed.”
Mira looked genuinely shocked.
“She lost it here?”
“In her third year.”
Draco nearly choked.
“You’re telling me this thing has been missing in Hogwarts for decades?”
Dumbledore chuckled softly.
“Hogwarts has a habit of keeping things until they are ready to be found.”
Pip chirped smugly as if validating this entirely.
Mira leaned slightly closer.
“What is it?”
Dumbledore’s expression grew distant with memory.
“It was a gift from Augusta’s mother before she came to Hogwarts.”
His fingers brushed lightly over the worn gold.
“She wore it every day.”
Something wistful entered his eyes.
“She lost it shortly after a terrible winter storm damaged part of the castle many years ago. The poor girl searched for weeks.”
Mira looked down at the locket quietly.
“She never found it…”
“No.”
Draco frowned.
“But how did it end up hidden under a bench near the Entrance Hall?”
Dumbledore smiled knowingly.
“My guess?”
His gaze shifted toward Pip and Briony.
“Hogwarts finally decided it was time.”
The office fell softly silent again.
Mira’s eyes lowered toward the locket.
“She should have it back.”
“Yes,” Dumbledore said gently. “I believe she should.”
Pip suddenly climbed halfway up Mira’s robes and squeaked insistently toward the locket.
Dumbledore laughed softly.
“Yes, yes. You helped.”
Briony chirred proudly.
Draco shook his head slowly.
“I genuinely don’t understand how those two keep doing this.”
“Magic,” Dumbledore replied serenely.
“That is not an explanation.”
“It rarely is.”
Mira smiled faintly.
Dumbledore carefully closed the locket in his palm before looking at her again.
“You know,” he said softly, “there is something rather fitting about you being the one to return this.”
Mira tilted her head slightly.
“Why?”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled warmly.
“Because lately, Miss Silverthorne… you seem to have developed a habit of restoring lost things to where they belong.”
Draco looked sideways at Mira.
And suddenly he realized—
that was true.
Artifacts.
Creatures.
Forgotten histories.
Broken systems.
Lonely people.
Mira kept finding things the world had abandoned…
and quietly putting them back together.
By midday, the story had already begun spreading through Hogwarts.
Not the full story.
Stories at Hogwarts were never fully accurate by the time they reached the third corridor.
But students had heard enough fragments to become deeply interested.
Pip and Briony had apparently discovered another ancient magical object.
The object belonged to Neville Longbottom’s grandmother.
It had been missing for decades.
And somehow, impossibly, the two Nifflers had found it beneath a forgotten bench near the Entrance Hall.
Again.
At this point, many students had stopped questioning how Mira Silverthorne’s familiars continuously uncovered lost magical relics and instead simply accepted it as one of the castle’s natural phenomena.
Like moving staircases.
Or Peeves.
Or Professor Snape appearing whenever someone considered committing a crime.
The Great Hall buzzed with whispers during lunch.
“Was it cursed?”
“No, apparently sentimental.”
“My cousin says the Nifflers can smell ancient magic.”
“That’s not how Nifflers work.”
“Well clearly those two don’t work normally.”
“I heard it belonged to Godric Gryffindor’s cousin.”
“That makes absolutely no sense.”
“It might.”
“It really doesn’t.”
At the Slytherin table, Draco sat beside Mira while Pip proudly sat atop an empty fruit bowl like a conquering hero.
Briony rested elegantly beside him.
Both were receiving an alarming amount of attention from passing students.
Blaise Zabini stared at Pip.
“You realize your Niffler is becoming famous.”
Pip chirped proudly.
Theo Nott did not look up from his book.
“He’s already famous.”
Daphne Greengrass leaned forward slightly.
“Is it true the locket belonged to Augusta Longbottom?”
Mira nodded once.
“It was lost during her third year.”
Even Theo looked up at that.
“That would make it…” He mentally calculated. “…decades old.”
“Mmhm.”
Tracey Davis blinked.
“And Pip just found it under a bench?”
Pip puffed himself up proudly again.
Draco sighed.
“He’s insufferable now.”
Briony nudged Pip with her nose affectionately.
Mira smiled softly.
Then the doors of the Great Hall opened.
Neville entered beside Professor Sprout.
And walking with them—
Augusta Longbottom.
Conversation throughout the Hall noticeably dimmed.
Augusta Longbottom carried herself with the same commanding dignity she always possessed. Her emerald robes were immaculate, her posture straight-backed and elegant despite the winter chill still clinging to her cloak.
But the moment she saw Mira—
her expression warmed immediately.
“There you are, dear.”
Mira stood at once.
“Madam Longbottom.”
Draco rose beside her automatically.
Neville looked simultaneously nervous and excited.
Branch the Bowtruckle peeked out from Neville’s pocket and waved tiny twig fingers enthusiastically toward Mira.
Pip squeaked happily.
Briony chirped.
Several students nearby immediately leaned closer in blatant attempts to overhear.
Augusta approached the table with measured steps.
“You’ve caused quite a stir this morning,” she informed Mira dryly.
Mira looked slightly embarrassed.
“That wasn’t really intentional.”
“Most historical events involving you seem not to be.”
Draco looked deeply amused by that statement.
Professor Sprout coughed suspiciously into her sleeve to hide a smile.
Mira carefully reached into her robes and withdrew the locket.
The instant Augusta saw it—
she stopped moving.
Completely.
The Great Hall around them faded into distant noise.
Her eyes widened slightly.
And for the first time since most students had ever known her—
the formidable Augusta Longbottom looked stunned.
Very gently, Mira stepped closer and offered the locket into her hands.
“We wanted to return it properly.”
Augusta took it carefully.
As though afraid it might disappear again.
Her fingers trembled.
Only slightly.
But enough for Neville to notice immediately.
“Gran?”
For several long moments, Augusta said nothing.
She simply stared down at the old gold locket resting in her palms.
Then slowly—
very slowly—
she opened it.
The clasp clicked softly.
Inside were two tiny moving photographs.
A witch and wizard smiled warmly from within the faded frames.
The witch possessed Augusta’s sharp eyes.
The wizard laughed silently while adjusting a crooked scarf.
Old-fashioned robes.
Younger faces.
A family frozen in moving memory.
Several nearby students inhaled quietly.
Augusta’s breath caught almost imperceptibly.
“My mother…” she whispered.
The Hall grew quieter.
Even students who had no idea what was happening seemed to instinctively lower their voices.
Augusta touched the tiny photograph carefully.
“When I was a girl,” she said softly, almost to herself, “my mother gave this to me before I boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time.”
Neville stared quietly at the photographs.
“I’ve never seen them before.”
A faint smile touched Augusta’s face.
“No,” she murmured. “You wouldn’t have.”
Her eyes remained fixed on the locket.
“I lost it during my third year after a winter storm damaged part of the old stairwell near Ravenclaw Tower.”
Dumbledore had apparently informed the staff already, because Professor McGonagall had quietly appeared nearby as well, listening from a respectful distance.
Augusta exhaled slowly.
“I searched for weeks.”
The words carried the weight of a memory still sharp after decades.
“I was absolutely certain I would find it.”
Her thumb brushed gently across the gold filigree.
“But Hogwarts keeps its own secrets.”
Pip waddled proudly closer.
Augusta looked down at him.
And unexpectedly—
she laughed softly.
The sound startled Neville more than almost anything else.
“You found this, little treasure hunter?”
Pip chirped triumphantly.
Briony sat beside him like dignified moral support.
Augusta’s stern face softened further.
“Well,” she said quietly, “I believe I owe you both a tremendous debt.”
Pip immediately held out a tiny paw.
Draco choked slightly.
“Neville,” he muttered, “your grandmother is negotiating with a Niffler.”
Branch peeked farther out of Neville’s pocket as though fascinated.
Augusta looked toward Mira then.
Real emotion lingered openly in her eyes now.
Not merely gratitude.
Something deeper.
Understanding.
“You’ve already given my family more than I can ever repay,” she said softly.
Mira immediately shook her head.
“You don’t owe us anything.”
“You helped heal Frank and Alice.”
Neville lowered his head slightly at the mention of his parents.
Not sad.
Not anymore.
Just emotional.
Augusta continued quietly.
“You restored hope to my family when we had nearly lost it.”
Her gaze dropped briefly toward the locket.
“And now this.”
Mira looked uncomfortable with the praise.
Draco noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
“She only returned it because it belonged to you,” he said quietly.
Mira glanced at him.
Draco shrugged lightly.
“It’s true.”
Augusta’s sharp eyes moved thoughtfully between the two first-years.
Then her expression softened knowingly.
“Well,” she said, “that explains why you’re helping carry her books these days.”
Draco nearly dropped dead on the spot.
Neville blinked rapidly.
Professor Sprout turned away very quickly to hide obvious amusement.
Mira looked startled.
Draco recovered first.
“I carry books for plenty of people.”
Theo’s voice drifted from the Slytherin table without looking up from his book.
“No, you don’t.”
Several nearby students immediately started snickering.
Draco looked murderous.
Mira’s cheeks turned faintly pink.
Augusta Longbottom looked deeply entertained.
Pip, entirely unaware of social devastation occurring around him, climbed proudly onto the bench beside the locket.
Briony followed.
Neville looked down at the photographs inside the locket again.
“They look kind.”
Augusta became quiet.
“Yes,” she said softly. “They were.”
For a brief moment, the years seemed to fall away from her.
Not the stern matriarch of the Longbottom family.
Not the imposing pureblood widow many students feared.
Just a daughter remembering her parents.
The sight made something ache quietly inside Mira’s chest.
Emma Carter remembered things like this too.
Little moments.
Family photographs.
Objects carrying love across time.
The Hall remained unusually silent.
Then Professor Flitwick suddenly appeared near the Ravenclaw table looking intensely fascinated.
“Do you realize,” he exclaimed, “this means the locket survived the Northern Stair Collapse of 1943?”
Several students immediately perked up.
“The what?” asked a Hufflepuff second-year.
McGonagall sighed softly.
“Filius…”
But Flitwick was already fully invested.
“One of Hogwarts’ worst winter structural failures! Half the northern corridors sealed themselves for nearly a month!”
Now students from multiple houses were listening openly.
Neville blinked.
“Hogwarts sealed itself?”
“Oh yes!” Flitwick said cheerfully. “The castle does that occasionally when irritated.”
“That’s horrifying,” Draco muttered.
“Historically fascinating,” Binns corrected suddenly, drifting through a nearby wall and startling three students into dropping their forks.
Within minutes, what had begun as a quiet locket return somehow transformed into an impromptu discussion of lost Hogwarts history.
Students crowded closer.
Questions spread rapidly.
Stories emerged.
Old stair collapses.
Hidden corridors.
Magical storms.
Founder-era enchantments.
And at the center of all of it sat Pip and Briony.
The now legendary artifact-finding Nifflers of Hogwarts.
By the time lunch ended, first-years were openly pointing at Pip in awe.
A pair of Hufflepuffs asked for sketches of Briony.
Someone from Ravenclaw had apparently already started documenting “Recovered Historical Artifacts Associated with Silverthorne Familiar Activity.”
Draco rubbed his forehead.
“This is becoming absurd.”
Mira smiled faintly as Pip proudly accepted a blueberry from Neville.
Branch climbed cautiously onto Briony’s back.
The snowy Niffler sat perfectly still to avoid frightening him.
Augusta watched the creatures quietly.
Then she looked toward Mira again.
“You know,” she said softly, “Hogwarts remembers people like you.”
Mira blinked.
“What do you mean?”
Augusta closed the locket carefully.
“People who return things instead of keeping them.”
Her eyes sharpened slightly with old wisdom.
“People who restore instead of take.”
The words settled deeply.
Not just for Mira.
For Draco too.
Because lately he had begun noticing the pattern everywhere.
Mira did not collect power.
She collected healing.
Connections.
Lost things.
Broken things.
And somehow—
through impossible patience and compassion—
she kept making them whole again.
ns216.73.217.22da2
and then Add to home screen.