The presence of a Vaelori at Hogwarts spread through the castle faster than Peeves causing trouble.
By the end of lunch, every corridor buzzed with whispers.
“A real elf—”
“Not a house-elf—”
“She was teaching Herbology—”
“She spoke to Professor Flitwick like they’d met before—”
“Did you see her eyes?”
Students leaned over stair railings and clustered near classroom doors hoping for another glimpse of Myraleth as she moved through the castle beside Professor Sprout.
Some stared openly.
Others tried very hard not to.
The younger students were the least subtle.
A pair of Hufflepuff first-years nearly walked into a suit of armor while craning their necks to watch the Vaelori pass through the Entrance Hall.
“She looks like someone from a storybook,” one whispered.
“No,” the other whispered back nervously. “She looks older than the storybook.”
At the Ravenclaw table, several students were already buried in library books.
“There’s almost nothing written about the Vaelori,” one seventh-year complained.
“That’s because most historians assumed they were extinct,” another replied.
“Clearly not.”
Across the hall, the Gryffindors were louder about the entire thing.
Fred and George Weasley had apparently started taking bets on how long it would take before Hogwarts accidentally adopted an entire hidden magical civilization.
“Current odds say two weeks,” Fred announced.
“Three if Snape survives the stress,” George added.
Lee Jordan nearly choked laughing.
Even some Slytherins seemed unusually unsettled.
Not frightened exactly.
Curious.
Careful.
Gemma Farley watched Myraleth thoughtfully from the prefects’ section of the table.
“There’s something strange about her magic,” she murmured quietly.
“It doesn’t feel aggressive.”
“No,” another student admitted slowly. “It feels… old.”
Draco heard that.
His gaze flickered briefly toward the staff table where Myraleth sat calmly beside Sprout while discussing healing flora with Flitwick.
Then his eyes moved toward Mira.
She was eating normally.
As though there wasn’t an ancient hidden elf civilization suddenly walking through Hogwarts because of her.
Again.
Draco was beginning to suspect this was simply his life now.
Across from him, Blaise Zabini finally spoke.
“How do you know so many impossible people?”
Mira looked genuinely puzzled.
“I don’t think they’re impossible.”
“That,” Blaise said flatly, “is not reassuring.”
Nearby, Daphne Greengrass lowered her voice.
“The centaurs respect her too.”
That quieted several students immediately.
Centaurs rarely respected humans.
Openly, anyway.
Yet Firenze had walked beside Mira through the castle that morning without hesitation.
As though she belonged among ancient magical beings as naturally as among students.
At the Hufflepuff table, Cedric Diggory listened quietly while younger students excitedly discussed Myraleth.
“She said Helga Hufflepuff brought food to the Vaelori settlements,” one girl said softly.
“That sounds like Helga,” Cedric replied with a faint smile.
Not far away, Neville Longbottom sat listening with wide-eyed fascination.
“A hidden magical civilization living near Hogwarts all this time…” he murmured.
Branch the Bowtruckle peeked from Neville’s pocket curiously.
Ron Weasley looked overwhelmed by the entire concept.
“So first there were goblins, then ancient dragon people, then magical relics, and now hidden elves?”
Harry, however, remained quiet.
He watched Mira carefully from across the hall.
Watched how she spoke softly to Draco.
How students unconsciously made space around her without realizing it.
How magical creatures seemed drawn toward her naturally.
How even the impossible no longer seemed impossible when she was involved.
And somehow—
she never acted proud about any of it.
That confused Harry more than anything else.
Most people would have bragged.
Would have demanded attention.
Mira simply… cared.
About creatures.
About students.
About strangers.
About people forgotten by the world.
His chest tightened faintly.
At the staff table, Myraleth suddenly glanced toward the student body.
Not sharply.
Not suspiciously.
Simply observing.
For one strange moment, the entire hall seemed quieter beneath her gaze.
As though the castle itself remembered something ancient through her presence.
Then she smiled faintly at something Professor Sprout said, and the tension dissolved immediately.
The Great Hall resumed its normal rhythm.
Laughter.
Conversation.
Clattering silverware.
But the whispers continued.
About hidden elves.
About ancient magic.
About the strange silver-haired Slytherin girl who somehow kept uncovering forgotten pieces of the wizarding world like she had been meant to find them.
And high above them all, beneath the enchanted ceiling of Hogwarts—
old stories were beginning to breathe again.
ns216.73.217.15da2
and then Add to home screen.