Since being gifted the new broom, Theo hadn't let it go for a second. Going out to fly everyday. She was surprised he hasn't slept with it yet, holding it as a teddy bear.
She admired how carefully he took care of it, making sure to use his broom care kit after every ride. Polishing it, brushing the ends. And even giving it a name, Rose. Only because Ophelia often made roses appear whenever she was bored.
Since being gifted the new broom, Theo hadn't let it go for a second. He was out in the open fields behind the manor flying every single day, pushing the Nimbus 2000 to its absolute limits. Fila was honestly surprised he hadn't started sleeping with it yet, holding it tightly in his arms like a child holds a teddy bear.
More than the flying itself, she admired how incredibly carefully he took care of it. Every single time he landed, he would immediately pull out his professional broom care kit and get to work. He was meticulous, making sure to polish the dark mahogany handle until it reflected the sky, brushing the birch twigs at the tail until they were perfectly straight, and applying protective tail twigs wax with the utmost focus.
He had even given the broom a name: Rose.
When she had first heard him refer to the broom as Rose, she had raised a questioning eyebrow. He had just offered her a soft, slightly shy smile and admitted that it was because she often made small, perfect roses appear with her magic whenever she was bored.
The sentiment made her heart do a funny little flip every time she thought about it.
The week passed in a blur of morning training sessions, sunny afternoons spent watching Theo zoom through the air, and quiet evenings in the library. But as the days ticked by, a nervous, electric anticipation began to build in the pit of Fila's stomach.
A full week had officially passed since their first visit to the famous alley.
"Are you ready?" Theo asked, stepping into the manor foyer where Fila was waiting. He looked energized, his eyes bright with excitement. He wasn't holding Rose for once, but the happy, confident aura of the past week was still radiating off him. "Today is the big day. Time to go see what the master has created for you."
Fila took a deep breath, smoothing down the front of her dark robes. The old, mismatched wand tucked into her pocket felt heavier than usual, as if it knew its time with her was coming to an end.
"I am ready," Fila agreed, stepping up to the grand fireplace.
They took the glowing green Floo powder, shouted their destination in perfect unison, and spun away through the emerald flames.
Moments later, they were stepping out onto the cobblestones of Diagon Alley. The crowd was just as thick and chaotic as before, filled with families doing their last minute shopping, but Fila had her eyes locked on a single target.
They walked down the street, passing the bustling ice cream parlor and the crowded window of the Quidditch shop, until they came to a stop in front of the quiet, narrow storefront.
Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.
Fila pushed open the heavy oak door. The bell tinkled softly in the depths of the quiet, cool shop.
The atmosphere was exactly as she remembered it: heavy, smelling of dust and raw magic, and stacked with thousands of narrow boxes. Mr. Ollivander appeared from the shadows behind the counter almost instantly, as if he had been standing there waiting just for them.
His pale, moon like eyes landed on Fila, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his wrinkled face.
"Ah, Ms. Grindelwald," the old man whispered, his voice a soft rustle. "You are right on time. I have been expecting you."
He reached beneath the counter and pulled out a single, long rectangular box. It wasn't the standard dusty gray box that filled the rest of the shop. This one was crafted from a rich, dark wood, with a gold clasp on the front.
He placed the box on the counter between them.
"It was a difficult challenge," Ollivander admitted, looking down at the box with a trace of pride in his pale eyes. "The Thunderbird feather is a core of raw, untamable power. It fights against being contained. It required a wood with equal strength and a deep connection to the Earth to ground the storm."
He reached out with a spindly finger and clicked the gold clasp open, slowly lifting the lid.
"Eleven and a half inches," Ollivander murmured. "Black Walnut. Rigid flexibility. With the feather of the American Thunderbird at its heart."
Fila leaned forward, her breath catching in her throat.
Resting on a bed of dark velvet was a wand of breathtaking beauty. The Black Walnut wood was a deep, rich chocolate color, polished to a mirror like shine. The handle was beautifully carved with intricate, swirling patterns that looked like wind currents or rushing water, tapering down to a smooth, elegant tip.
It looked less like a standard tool and more like a work of art.
"Go on, child," Ollivander whispered. "Pick it up. Let's see if the match is as perfect as I believe it to be."
Fila reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as they closed around the carved handle of the Black Walnut wand.
The moment her skin made contact with the wood, a sensation unlike anything she had ever felt before surged through her entire body. It wasn't a soft spark like the one she had felt with Harry, and it wasn't a simple warmth.
She barley moved the wand and flowers of different kinds started popping up throughout the shop. Vines stated hanging down from the ceiling, and than.
A soft, warm rain was suddenly falling from the ceiling of the ancient, dusty shop.
It wasn't a cold or heavy downpour; it was a gentle, mist like shower that smelled intensely of petrichor and fresh blooming flowers. The water didn't seem to make the stacks of paper or the wooden shelves wet. Instead, it nourished the green vines that had just burst from the ceiling beams and the colorful wildflowers that were now pushing their way up through the cracks in the old floorboards.
Fila stood at the center of it all, her hand holding the Black Walnut wand, her eyes wide with shock and absolute wonder.
Theo held out his hand, letting a few of the perfectly clear droplets land on his palm. "Rain? Inside?" He looked from his hand to the ceiling, and then to Fila, a breathless laugh escaping his lips. "Fila, you literally just brought a spring storm into Ollivanders."
Mr. Ollivander, standing just behind the counter, didn't look upset at all. In fact, he reached out and touched one of the fresh green vines hanging down near his face.
"Extraordinary," the old wandmaker whispered, his voice full of reverent awe. "I expected power, child. I expected static electricity and strong winds. But to produce life... to make it rain inside a building without any words spoken? This is a wand of creation as much as it is a wand of power."
Fila slowly lowered the wand, and as she did, the gentle rain subsided. The flowers remained, their petals bright and vibrant against the dark wood of the shop.
She looked down at the wand in her hand. It didn't feel heavy anymore. It felt like a natural extension of her arm, pulsing with a steady, comforting rhythm that matched her own heartbeat.
"I didn't even mean to do that," Fila murmured, a soft laugh bubbling up in her throat. "I just... I just held it."
"The wand chooses the wizard, Ms. Grindelwald," Ollivander reminded her, his pale eyes shining in the dim light. "And this wand has chosen to reflect the true depth of your magic. Use it wisely. The world has not seen its like in a very long time."
Theo stepped forward, his boots stepping carefully around the brand new wildflowers on the floor, and came to stand right beside her. He looked down at the beautiful dark wood in her hand, shaking his head in pure amazement.
"Your going to kick ass during the tournament." Theo said with an impressed smile.
Fila smiled, tucking the beautiful black walnut wand into the inner pocket of her traveling robes. It felt warm against her chest, buzzing with that new, comforting rhythm.
After thanking a still mesmerized Mr. Ollivander and paying for the masterpiece, Fila and Theo stepped back out of the cool, dark shop and into the bright afternoon sun of Diagon Alley.
The transition from the quiet, rain fresh atmosphere of the shop back to the loud, bustling street was jarring. Fila stopped just outside the door, letting out a long breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Theo didn't waste a second. He immediately pulled her gently over to a less crowded nook between Ollivanders and the stationery shop, away from the flow of walking wizards.
"Okay, let me see it," Theo said, his eyes bright with eager curiosity. "You can't just create a indoor rainstorm and hide it away!"
Fila laughed, but reached into her robes and pulled the wand back out. In the bright, natural sunlight, the black walnut wood looked even more incredible. The rich, chocolate tones gleamed, and the intricate, swirling carvings on the handle seemed to have a depth that wasn't visible in the dim shop.
Theo leaned in close, inspecting the craftsmanship. He didn't touch it, respecting the raw power he had just seen unleashed, but his eyes traced every carved line.
"It really is beautiful, Fila," Theo murmured, his voice soft. He looked up from the wood to meet her eyes, standing close enough that she could smell the cedarwood and spice on his robes again. "It fits you perfectly. Wild, unpredictable, and capable of creating something beautiful out of nowhere."
A warm flush rose to Fila's cheeks at his words. "Thank you, Theo," she said softly. "It feels right. For the first time since waking up, my magic doesn't feel like a heavy burden I have to fight. It feels like a part of me again."
"I am glad," Theo said, offering her a warm, proud smile. He reached out and gently took her free hand, lacing his fingers through hers. "You have survived your grandmother's brutal training, successfully navigated a British crowd, and got a legendary custom wand. I would say you are more than ready for third year Ilvermorny."
Fila squeezed his hand, looking down at their joined fingers before looking back up at him. "I am. Especially since I will have you and your family there with me."
Theo's smile widened, that familiar, playful glint returning to his dark eyes. "Of course. Someone has to make sure you don't accidentally turn the Great Hall into a tropical rainforest on your first day."
"I make no promises, Sir Carter," Fila countered smoothly, a small, challenging fire returning to her blue eyes.
But before they could make their way back to the floo network someone suddenly stood beside the two, Fila reacted first and whipped her wand towards the face of the person without even looking who it was.
Fila's training really had done wonders, her body reacted even before her mind did.
Fila's heart hammered against her ribs, the dark walnut wand humming intensely in her grip as it pointed directly between the stranger's eyes. The air between them crackled with the sudden, sharp scent of ozone.
The woman didn't flinch. She stood perfectly still, looking down the length of Fila's wand with a calm, practiced composure that spoke of immense self control.
She was a witch of striking, aristocratic beauty. Her skin was as pale as milk, and her hair was a stunning mix of platinum blonde and dark brown, styled into an elegant, perfectly coiffed arrangement. She wore high collar robes of the finest dark green silk that whispered of immense wealth and ancient lineage.
"Easy there, I did not mean to startle you," the woman's voice said. It was smooth, cool, and carried the unmistakable, clipped accent of the British pureblood elite.
Slowly, gracefully, the woman raised a gloved hand and gently pushed the tip of Fila's wand away from her face.
Fila blinked, her breathing heavy as her conscious mind finally caught up to her lightning fast reflexes. She slowly lowered her hand, though she didn't put the wand away.
"You should not sneak up on a duelist like that," Fila countered, her voice laced with a defensive edge.
Beside her, Theo had gone completely still. He looked at the woman with wide, recognizing eyes, his posture instantly shifting into one of formal politeness.
The woman's pale eyes drifted down to Fila's hand, resting on the custom black walnut wand, before traveling back up to study Fila's face. A faint, almost imperceptible softening touched the corners of her lips.
"A duelist indeed," the woman murmured, her eyes searching Fila's features with a strange, intense familiarity. "You have the lightning fast reactions of a seeker. I should have expected nothing less. You look so much like him, Ophelia."
Fila froze, her lips parting slightly. "You know who I am?"
The woman offered a small, elegant smile that was both beautiful and incredibly sad. She took a half step closer, the scent of expensive French perfume gently enveloping them.
"Of course I do, dear child. I am Narcissa Malfoy," she said softly, tilting her head slightly. "I was Narcissa Black before my marriage. Your Father was my brother. Which makes me your aunt."
Fila stared at her, the roaring in her head returning for a completely different reason. She had spent the summer training like a soldier and dodging the heavy expectations of her mother's side of the family, but she had never expected to find a piece of her father's direct bloodline standing right here on the cobblestones of London. Regulus Black was a name often spoken in hushed, complicated tones.
Narcissa reached out, her gloved hand gently cupping Fila's cheek. Her touch was surprisingly warm.
"I cannot tell you how long I have waited to see you awake and standing," Narcissa whispered, a trace of genuine emotion cracking through her pristine, aristocratic mask. "To see Regulus's daughter alive and well is a miracle I didn't think I would witness."
Fila didn't like this, she knew about the Malfoy connection to the dark lord. And there the possibility that the Malfoys were directly involved with trying to hunt her down in France didn't add to any comfort. She knew that Narcissa could be innocent in that plot, but her husband most likely wasn't.
She took a step back, her mind telling her to not trust this too lightly.
Narcissa seemed surprised by her action, but not as much as Fila thought she would.
Gemini sa
Narcissa's hand remained suspended in the air for a heavy beat before she slowly let it drop to her side. The flicker of genuine emotion on her face was instantly smoothed over by her pristine, emotionless aristocratic mask. She looked at her niece with a gaze that held a sudden, sharp understanding.
"I see," Narcissa murmured, her voice carrying a cool but quiet dignity. Her pale eyes flicked over to Theo, who was standing protectively close to Fila, before returning to rest on her niece's face. "You have your guard up. That is wise, child. Very wise. In our world, a blind trust is a dangerous currency."
She didn't apologize for the reach, nor did she deny the unspoken accusations hanging in the air about her family's dark associations. Instead, she seemed to respect the fierce, self preserving instinct Fila was displaying.
"Your father was always too trusting for his own good," Narcissa continued, her tone dipping into a quiet, mourning cadence. "It is a trait that did not serve him well in the end. I am glad to see you do not share it."
She reached into the sleeve of her dark green silk robes and pulled out a small, heavy envelope made of thick, cream colored parchment. She didn't try to close the distance between them again, instead holding it out between them.
"I will not force myself on you, Ophelia. But you are my family, and you are in London now. If you ever wish to know about your father, or if you simply find yourself in need of anything at all while you are in this country... you send an owl to Malfoy Manor."
Fila hesitated for a beat before reaching out and taking the envelope. It was sealed with heavy green wax stamped with the intricate crest of the Malfoy family.
"Thank you," Fila said softly, her voice polite but clipped, slipping the envelope securely into her pocket.
"Take care of yourself, Ophelia," Narcissa said.
With a final, elegant nod to both Fila and Theo, Narcissa Malfoy turned on her heel and walked gracefully back into the crowd, her dark green robes flowing behind her like a shadow.
Fila stood still for a long moment, staring at the spot where her aunt had just been standing.
"Fila," Theo said softly, stepping up beside her and resting a steady, grounding hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay? That was... heavy."
Fila looked at Theo, letting out a breath she felt like she'd been holding since Narcissa arrived. She gripped his hand tightly, drawing comfort from his presence. "I am okay. Lets go home."
Theo was surprised by how calm she looked and handled that. Even fila surprised herself by how she handled that.
Theo stared at her for a long second, his dark eyes searching her face. He was clearly looking for any cracks in her composure, but all he found was a steady, quiet strength.
"Alright," Theo said softly, his hand slipping down from her shoulder to find hers, squeezing it tightly. "Let's get out of here."
They navigated the rest of the crowded alley in a comfortable, protective silence. Fila kept her hand firmly anchored in Theo's, feeling the heavy, cream colored envelope resting in her pocket like a physical weight.
It wasn't until they had stepped through the green flames of the Floo network and landed back on the familiar, quiet hearth of the Carter manor that the adrenaline finally began to fade.
Fila stepped out onto the rug, immediately reaching down to trace the smooth edge of the black walnut wand hidden in her robes. She walked over to a high backed armchair and sank into it, letting out a long, heavy breath.
Theo stood by the fireplace, looking at her with a mix of awe and deep concern. He crossed the room and sat on the arm of the chair beside her.
"I have to say, Fila," Theo began, his voice quiet in the empty room. "You handled that incredibly well. If a famous pureblood aristocrat cornered me in an alley and told me she was my aunt, I would have probably tripped over my own robes."
Fila looked up at him, a tired but genuine smile touching her lips. "I was terrified, Theo. My heart was beating so hard I thought Narcissa would hear it."
"You did not show it for a second," Theo countered firmly. "You were poised, you kept your guard up, and you didn't let her intimidate you. Honestly... looking at you right now compared to the girl who woke up a few months ago? It is a total 180. You have grown so strong."
Fila looked down at her hands, realizing that he was right. The summer of intense training with her grandparent, navigating the complex Magical social cues, and coming to terms with her unique magic had forged her into someone new. She was no longer just a victim of a dark attack; she was a duelist, a witch with a custom Thunderbird wand, and someone ready to face whatever destiny was pulling her toward.
"I had a lot of help," Fila said softly, looking back up at him. "I could not have done any of it without you keeping me grounded."
Theo offered her a warm, gentle smile, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "We are a team, Fila. Always."
Fila wanted some time for herself after that. The yard had a beautiful old oak that she had wanted to sit under to relax. The letter in her pocket felt heavy. But deep down she wanted to do something about it. running from it wouldn't do her any good.
The feeling she had right now couldn't only be described as weird. She had no reason to run from this, but if she would have listened to herself a couple of months ago she would tell herself to hide in a room.
The feeling washing over her was incredibly weird. Months ago, the mere thought of facing a piece of this dark legacy would have sent her spiraling. She would have wanted to hide in a room, lock the door, and pretend none of it existed. Running away was the safest, easiest option her trauma could offer.
But as she traced the edge of the parchment, she realized that girl was gone.
Running wouldn't do her any good. The past didn't disappear just because you ignored it; it just waited for you in the shadows. If she wanted to truly stand on her own two feet and forge a path separate from her grandfather's dark ambitions and the Black family's legacy, she needed to know what she was standing against.
She needed to understand who her father really was.
Taking a deep, steadying breath that filled her lungs with the clean scent of the oak tree, Fila slid her thumb under the edge of the green wax.
With a crisp, decisive snap, the seal broke.
Fila pulled the folded parchment from the envelope. It was thick and heavy, the kind of stationary used only by the most ancient and wealthy wizarding families.
She unfolded it, her eyes tracing the elegant, flowing script written in dark green ink.
The letter was surprisingly brief, written with a refined and careful distance that didn't demand anything from her.
Dearest Ophelia,
I understand your hesitation today, and I do not fault you for it. Caution is a trait your father often lacked, and seeing it in you gives me great comfort.
The history of the House of Black is a heavy burden to carry, and the truth of your father is not something easily found in rumors or schoolbooks. If the time ever comes when you are ready to hear about the boy he was, and the man he tried to be, know that the doors of Malfoy Manor are always open to you. > You are of my blood, and you will always have a place at my table.
With my warmest regards,Narcissa Malfoy
Fila read the words over twice, her eyes lingering on her father's name. There was no pressure, no demands for her to align with the Malfoys, and no mention of the dark politics surrounding their name. It was simply an open door to a piece of her history.
She slowly refolded the parchment and slipped it back into its envelope.
Looking up into the thick, green canopy of the oak tree, Fila felt a strange sense of calm wash over her. She wasn't ready to go to Malfoy Manor, and she certainly wasn't ready to trust Narcissa's husband. But she didn't have to hide in a room anymore.
She had the letter, she had a choice, and most importantly, she had the strength to decide when she was ready.
Fila sat beneath the ancient oak for a long time, the shadow of the canopy cooling the warm afternoon air. She looked down at the letter in her lap, tracing the elegant curve of Narcissa's handwriting.
Her first instinct had been to keep her distance, to stay locked inside the safety of the Carter manor and pretend this part of her life didn't exist. But deep down, she knew that running wouldn't make the questions go away. The mystery of her father would always be a ghost hanging over her shoulder until she faced it.
And if she wanted to truly own her power and her path, she couldn't do it while living in fear of the shadows.
Fila stood up, brushing a few stray leaves from her robes. She slipped the letter into her pocket and walked with steady, determined steps back toward the manor.
Theo was in the library when she walked in, sitting at a long table with a massive book about advanced Quidditch maneuvers open in front of him. He looked up, his dark eyes instantly searching her face.
"Hey," Theo said softly, closing his book. "How was the oak tree? Did it help you clear your head?"
"It did," Fila said, coming to stand by the table. She took a deep breath. "Theo, I have made a decision. I am going to Malfoy Manor. I need to know about my father."
Theo's eyes widened slightly, and he stood up from the table. There was a flash of worry in his expression, but it was quickly replaced by that fierce, unwavering support she had come to rely on.
"Are you sure, Fila?" Theo asked gently. "You don't have to do this right now. You have had a massive day."
"Well, im going tomorrow. Ive already sent a letter. And I want to go alone, or I need to go alone." She said.
Theo stared at her for a long second, his mouth opening slightly as if to protest, before he slowly closed it. He looked down at the table, his fingers tracing the edge of his Quidditch book, before looking back up at her with a soft, understanding sigh.
"Alone," Theo repeated quietly. He didn't look hurt, but the worry in his dark eyes was unmistakable. He took a step closer, closing the distance between them. "I won't lie to you, Fila. The idea of you going into that house by yourself scares the hell out of me. The Malfoys are... complicated, to say the very least."
He reached out, his warm hands gently taking both of hers.
"But I also know how incredibly strong you have become," Theo continued, his gaze locked onto hers with absolute sincerity. "And I know that this is your father's memory we are talking about. It is your right to seek out the truth on your own terms. If you feel like this is something you need to do by yourself, then I respect that."
Fila squeezed his hands back, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over her. She had expected him to argue or insist on coming along to protect her, but his willingness to trust her strength meant more to her than words could say.
"Thank you, Theo," Fila whispered. "It means everything to me that you understand."
"Of course," Theo smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "But I do have a few conditions, and I am not budging on them. First, my parents need to know where you are going. Second, you take that custom wand of yours and you keep it in your sleeve the entire time. And third, if you aren't back by dinner, I am mounting Rose and flying over to knock down their front door."
Fila laughed, a genuine, bright sound that finally chased the lingering tension from the library air. "I think that is a very fair deal, Sir Carter."
"Good," Theo said, his smile turning a bit more genuine.
And before she knew it stood Infront of the Manor. The carriage ride hadn't taken long, she could've taken the floo network, but she wanted some time to collect herself before all this.
Now, standing on the gravel driveway, she looked up at the towering facade of Malfoy Manor.
The morning fog was thick here, clinging to the ground and making the massive estate look like something out of a gothic ghost story. The manor was breathtakingly large and deeply intimidating, a grand structure of cold gray stone with narrow, pointed windows that looked like dark, watchful eyes. High iron gates stood a few hundred yards behind her, flanked by stone pillars topped with snarling, winged creatures.
The silence was absolute, broken only by the crunch of gravel beneath her boots as she took a few steps forward.
There was a strange, heavy aura to the place. It smelled of damp earth, old magic, and a distinct, chilling cold that seemed to seep right through her traveling robes. Fila reached up and subtly adjusted the sleeve of her robe, feeling the comforting, warm weight of her Black Walnut wand resting against her forearm.
As she looked up at the grand, dark oak front doors, a sudden movement caught her eye.
A magnificent, pure white peacock was standing on the stone balustrade of the front terrace, its feathers fanned out in a display of pure, arrogant wealth. It tilted its head, watching her with beady black eyes as if questioning her right to be standing on the gravel.
Fila didn't flinch. She held her chin high, mimicking the bird's own regal posture, and began to walk toward the stone steps leading up to the front doors. She was here for the truth, and she wasn't turning back now.