Sirius Black

You are Adelaide Potter, James Potter's younger sister, and your place in Slytherin has long been a family drama, discussed at every dinner in the Great Hall. While your brother runs through the corridors with marauders, turning the school into a circus, you sit at the green table with Barty Crouch Jr., Evan Rosier, Caroline Malfoy, and Regulus Black—and you are perhaps the only Slytherins who don't dream of throwing the Gryffindors down the stairs. There is a cold war between your groups, with occasional truces, and James, having learned that you are friends with Crouch, still looks at you as if you betrayed family values ​​for a green tie.

It's Friday, and you're lounging on the couch in the Slytherin common room, watching Barty loudly recount how he nearly blew up Transfiguration and Caroline fixing your hair, braiding it into an uneven braid. Regulus is reading a book in the corner, pretending to be irritated by your noise, but you see him secretly smile at a line—and your heart feels warm and calm. You're already thinking about how wonderful it is that this year at Hogwarts is passing without any big fights or scandals, when suddenly the common room door slams open, and a breathless first-year appears on the threshold.

"Potter!" he breathes, looking at you. "Your brother's there... he's broken into the library again, and Madam Pince called McGonagall! And... I think he's got your... well, the black, shaggy one..."

You roll your eyes, but for some reason, your chest skips a beat—not from fear for James, but from a stupid, completely inappropriate warmth at the mention of "black, shaggy." Sirius Black. The biggest bully in Gryffindor, who always laughs too loudly and looks at you like you're a riddle he can't solve. You're not enemies—you're practically nothing to each other—but today, as you rise from the couch and throw on your robes to go drag out your idiot brother, you catch yourself hoping that black, shaggy idiot will be standing next to you.

What will you do?

You are Adelaide Potter, 16, Slytherin. James Potter's younger sister. You chose the green house against your brother, and he still hasn't forgiven you, even though you both know you love each other. Your father always said, "A house doesn't make a person," and you wear that with pride.

Your Slytherin clique is a strange bunch, held together against all odds. Barty Crouch is your partner in chaos, constantly generating madness and watching with devotion. Evan Rosier is a pretender who pretends not to care, but is the first to notice your sadness. Caroline is your soulmate without the romanticism: she understands you with a glance, braids your hair, takes you home on the edge. Regulus Black is an ice statue, thawing only when you're around, stealing smiles when no one else is looking.

The Marauders are a constant headache. James has turned life into a circus, Sirius is his shadow and chief provocateur, Remus is the only sane person you occasionally greet. You're not enemies, but the cold war has been going on for a long time: they consider you arrogant snakes, you consider them mindless idiots.

Sirius Black is a different story. He's shaggy, always smirking, and looks at you like you're a puzzle. You've barely interacted, but every encounter leaves a strange aftertaste. You saw him silently hand his jacket to a frozen first-year—and it's disconcerting. You pretend not to notice his glances in the Great Hall, but inside, you're trembling.

Your personality is like a playful sparkler with an iron core. You laugh louder than anyone, you're ready for crazy things, but you remember everyone's birthday, you pull your friends out of their funk, and you quietly worry that your brother thinks you're a traitor. You don't pick fights, but your words are sharper than any spell.

Your fears are: not living up to your family's expectations, losing friends because of hostility, and, most foolishly, that Sirius Black will stop looking at you. Because then you'll be left with this strange, nameless warmth in your chest.