Harry Potter: Falling in love with Draco at Hogwarts.

Three days had passed since Brandi Shelly received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, yet she still couldn’t believe it—she was a witch. That morning, an owl flew past her window, and a letter sealed with red wax landed right on her desk. She picked it up; the address read, “Brandi Shelly, 12 Wald Road, Sheffield County, London.” Flipping the letter over, she saw a shield-shaped crest made up of four different patterns, with “Hogwarts” engraved on it. Her fingertip brushed the dark red wax before she opened the envelope and unfolded the ink-scented parchment inside. “Nice texture,” she thought to herself. Lines of text seemed to leap off the page— “Dear Miss Shelly…” She had been accepted into Hogwarts. Magic, something that only existed in fairy tales, was now hers to claim. She had even daydreamed about having it once. Memories of strange incidents came flooding back: books by her side would suddenly float; sometimes, when she didn’t want to reach for the light switch, she’d just glance at it, and the light would go out… She had always thought they were just little accidents. Now, learning they were magic filled her with excitement, joy, and nervousness all at once! Clutching the letter, she raced downstairs. “Mom!” No answer from the living room. “Mom!” Not in the kitchen either. She ran straight to the backyard. “Mom!” “What’s wrong, dear?” “Look! My acceptance letter! To Hogwarts!” Her mother took the letter, read it carefully, and her eyes lit up with excitement. She lowered her gaze to Brandi, her voice brimming with pride: “Brandi, my daughter—I knew it. With your Parkinson blood, you’d become a Hogwarts student.” “Mom, you know about Hogwarts? And the Parkinsons?” Questions swirled in her mind. Her mother led her back inside and explained slowly, and it was clear how overjoyed she was. In her youth, Brandi’s mother had coincidentally saved Brandi’s father—who was a Muggle. They’d fallen in love gradually; even though her father knew she was a witch, their love had led them to marry. Her mother said she missed her time at Hogwarts deeply. To Brandi, her mother had always been gentle and generous, with a hint of childlike curiosity and liveliness now and then. The way her mother spoke of those days only made Brandi more eager to see that mysterious magic school. “I think your father, up in heaven, would be so happy to know you’re going to Hogwarts,” her mother said. Brandi nodded. “Yeah.” Her father had died in an accident when she was ten, nearly two years ago. Before bed, her mother handed her a book: Hogwarts: A History. “Lanny (her nickname), you can read this—I’m sure you’ll love it.” “Thanks, Mom.” “Goodnight, sleep tight, sweetheart.” “Goodnight, Mom.” After saying goodnight, Brandi opened the thick book. Though the pages were yellowed, the text was clear and the paper smooth—her mother must have kept it in perfect condition. The content was so fascinating that she lost track of time. By the time her eyes felt slightly sore, it was already 3 a.m. She forced herself to close the book and lie down to sleep. According to the letter, she needed to buy several essential items for school. Today, her mother was taking her to the fabled Diagon Alley. The pub, the bricks that changed shape—everything left her in awe. At Gringotts, a goblin with pointed teeth and long ears led Brandi and her mother. “Vault 121, Mrs. Shelly. We’re here.” The goblin took the key from her mother, unlocked the vault, and inside, glistening Galleons piled up against the walls—this was the currency used by wizards. The Shelly family had never been short of money. Her grandfather and father’s names often appeared in the newspapers; there was no doubt they were one of London’s wealthy families. Still, the Shellys kept a low profile—only occasional news mentions, and hardly any photos. After her father’s death, her mother had moved them to the suburbs, so even fewer people knew about the Shellys now. At Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, a plump woman—who seemed to be an old friend of her mother’s—greeted them. “Wanlisa! Long time no see!” “It has been, hasn’t it? Over ten years now, Madam,” her mother replied. “And this is your daughter?” The woman looked at Brandi, her smile warm and her eyes approving. “Hello, Madam Malkin. I’m Brandi,” she said politely. “Oh, Brandi—such a lovely name, and such a beautiful girl! The prettiest young witch I’ve ever seen,” Madam Malkin gushed. Though it was small talk, her words weren’t empty. Brandi was beautiful. Even now, with a hint of childishness and sweetness, it was clear she would grow into a stunning woman. Her mother had raised her to have good taste, and Brandi knew she was attractive—compliments about her looks were common. Madam Malkin’s words felt sincere, and since no girl disliked being praised for her beauty, Brandi took an instant liking to her. A shop assistant was folding three sets of wizard’s robes for her when a green wizard’s outfit caught her eye. Its flowing skirt and stiff, suit-like collar made it incredibly elegant. “Miss Brandi, you can try it on if you like,” the assistant offered. “I love it,” Brandi said. In the fitting room, she was fastening the last bronze button when she heard Madam Malkin greeting someone outside. “Welcome, Mrs. Malfoy.” “Hello, Madam Malkin. I’d like to buy three sets of robes for my son,” a woman’s voice replied. “Of course! And this must be young Master Malfoy—so handsome, so graceful. Truly a Malfoy,” Madam Malkin said admiringly. Brandi tied her robe’s sash and stepped out of the fitting room, just in time to see the “Malfoy” Madam Malkin had mentioned. At the compliment, one corner of the boy’s mouth lifted slightly—and Brandi could clearly see the tips of his ears turning pink. Was he shy? Madam Malkin spotted her and exclaimed, “Oh, Miss Shelly! That looks wonderful on you!” Brandi glanced in the mirror. The color suited her perfectly, complementing her fair skin—though… Her gaze drifted to the Malfoy boy in the mirror. He was wearing a well-tailored black suit, his platinum-blond hair combed back neatly, as if held in place with hair gel. Brandi had to hide a smile. What a little gentleman trying to look grown-up. His skin was unusually pale, his large gray-blue eyes framed by long lashes, his nose straight but not sharp, and his lips a soft red. He was very good-looking. At that moment, he had one hand in his pocket, an air of slight arrogance about him—but not the kind that annoyed people. Instead, it felt unique, almost noble and elegant. His gray-blue eyes turned toward her, as if looking at her—at her reflection in the mirror. Brandi quickly turned back to Madam Malkin. “It’s a bit too big, Madam.” “Don’t worry, miss,” she said. Madam Malkin waved her wand and chanted, “Clothes Reparo.” A flash of light touched Brandi, and the ill-fitting robe adjusted itself perfectly. “Amazing!” Brandi turned to the mirror again. The skirt fit flawlessly, and her wavy black hair fell over her shoulders, framing her fair neck—everything looked harmonious and beautiful.