The first thing Fila felt after using the portkey was the smells. City smells, bakery, car exhaust and cigarette smoke. It made her want to puke honestly.
Soon her hearing came and shortly after, her sight.
And before stood a gathering of people. Looked like families, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers. All waiting for their Ilvermorny student. Fila recognized some of the students greeting their loved ones.
Stella who was a fifth year in Thunderbird waved to Fila, and she returned it with a short wave and a smile.
"Fila!" she heard a female voice shout out, she knew that voice.
She turned to see the familiar Elsbeth, and beside her stood Rowan with his arms crossed. He had always had this stern face even when he was happy, but he looked mad.
Fila walked towards them and greeted them with hugs. "I've missed you guys" Fila said to them both.
Elsbeth smiled. "we have missed you too Fila."
They stood and talked for a bit before they finally apparated back to the manor.
The manor stood peacefully in the snow covered clearing. Decorated with Christmas lights and decorations. This was home, a place where you would feel warm as soon as you saw it. The place where you felt calm and knew that you could be here without worries.
But before she could enter it she needed to tell someone about her school time.
Fila gave her bag to Rowan and bolted to the back of the manor.
The path had been cleared and led straight to her. "Hi mom. I'm back from school" she brushed the snow of the stone and sat down beside it.
For 2 hours she sat out there in the cold, telling her mother about the things she learnt, the friends she made, the bad things that had happened and the funny. Fila didn't leave a single detail out, she knew her mother would want to hear all of it.
The cold eventually began to bite through her robes.
Fila's words had long since slowed, drifting into softer thoughts, into silence between sentences. Snowflakes gathered along her sleeves and in her hair, melting slowly against her warmth before freezing again.
"…And I think you would have liked June," she murmured. "She pretends to be calm, but she is absolutely not."
The clearing remained still.
Only the quiet hush of falling snow answered her.
Fila traced a small line along the edge of the stone, her fingers numb now, movements slow.
"I wish you were there."
After saying her goodbyes she finally entered the manor. Maids came up and hugged her, she was given food and a warm bath.
Fila, Elsbeth and Rowan were now sitting in front of the fireplace in the gathering room. "No I barley passed potions, if the professor didn't give me extra lessons I would fail." Fila said and she took a sip of the coco.
"Looks like we need to increase the lessons while you are here then" Rowan added, he seemed to know what to teach already.
Fila hadn't told them about her obsession with learning elemental magic. She wanted to learn it by herself, and surprise them when she had learnt it.
She sat quietly while the two discussed what to teach during this three-week break, they also didn't want to throw to much on her. Since this is a break after all.
The fire burned low and steady, casting a gentle amber light across the gathering room. Outside, winter pressed softly against the tall windows, snow drifting down in a slow, patient curtain. Fila sat curled into the armchair nearest the hearth, the warmth still unfamiliar against skin that had been numb only an hour before. The cocoa in her hands sent thin spirals of steam upward, the scent rich and sweet, so different from the sharp cold of the clearing.
Rowan leaned back with his usual composed posture, though the sternness in his face had eased since her arrival. Elsbeth sat beside him, hands folded loosely, listening with quiet attention as they discussed the coming weeks. Their voices blended into the crackle of the fire, calm, the conversation circling subjects that felt both ordinary and heavy with expectation.
Fila returned to her room late into the night. The conversations with the others had dragged on long.
The door closed softly behind her. She sat crossed legged on the bed and opened her book that she received from the headmaster.
The book she had swiftly looked through looked different since she opened it in school. And on the first page she was surprised.
'Hello Ophelia, Granddaughter of the infamous Grindelwald'
The room turned cold and quiet.
She closed the book slowly, as if it would matter.
The clock inside the room ticked, and the fire crackled from time to time. the manor was quiet at this time, the maids and other asleep. The book in her lap resting and her palms on top of it, her heartbeat could be heard in her ears.
She opened the book slowly to the first page again.
'Rude to close like that, I was merely greeting you' the words formed slowly. The letters were clear but the handwriting felt old, like something you would find in medieval books. 'and yet you haven't even said hello' the first sentence was replaced with this.
Fila opened her mouth slowly as to say something, but nothing came out.
The words faded again, 'you don't need to speak to talk with me, I know what you are thinking. And calling me old is very rude'
'Uh alright, hello' Fila thought and the words she thought appeared in the book but faded with each word.
For a moment she simply stared, her breath caught somewhere between disbelief and curiosity. The letters dissolved like mist touched by sunlight, leaving the parchment blank once more. No ink stains, no trace of what had just been there. Only the soft cream of the page and the faint texture of its fibers beneath her fingers.
Her heartbeat refused to slow.
Fila steadied her breathing the way she had learned long ago, drawing the air in gently, holding it, letting it leave without force. The room answered with silence. The clock ticked on, indifferent and precise. The distant fire shifted with a quiet sigh.
She lowered her gaze back to the book.
New words surfaced, forming with calm deliberation.
'Better. Manners matter.'
Fila blinked, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly. The response did not feel hostile. If anything, it carried a tone of dry approval, almost amused.
'Who are you?' she thought carefully, shaping the question with intention rather than alarm.
Ink flowed across the page at once, elegant and composed.
'Telling you right away wouldn't be fun, now would it.'
Fila's brow furrowed faintly. The magic felt unlike anything she had encountered in class. Not a charm. Not an illusion. The presence behind the words felt aware, attentive, yet oddly restrained, as though bound by rules she could not see.
Fila shifted on the bed, drawing one knee closer. Despite the strangeness of it, panic did not rise. The sensation in the room was cool but not threatening. Curious rather than sharp. She had felt darker magic before, in stories, in descriptions, in subtle traces left behind in certain objects. This was not that.
'Why greet me like that?' she asked silently. 'Granddaughter of the infamous Grindelwald.'
The words rearranged themselves.
'Because that is who you are, the daughter of a Grindelwald and… still unknown father, for you that is.' The book answered. And it knew who her father was.
Fila hesitated at first. 'Who is my father?' she asked the book.
It took a while before it answered 'I'm not going to tell you. The truth will reveal itself in due time.' the book paused, fila was going to ask something but was interrupted. 'I'm going to teach you how magic works and how to wield it.'. the book followed, yet it felt strange.
'Why?' Fila asked.
It didn't take long for an answer to come. 'Because I want to' it simply said. 'But tonight, you need rest, sleep and open the book in the morning' as Fila reed the last word the book closed with a thud. and now it laid silently in her lap.
Because I want to.
The simplicity of that answer unsettled her more than any elaborate explanation might have.
Fila slid the book carefully onto her bedside table, movements deliberate, almost respectful. She half expected another comment, another line of ink appearing to correct or observe. The cover remained still. Silent.
She leaned back against the headboard.
Outside, snow drifted past her window, pale shapes moving through darkness. The fire burned low, its glow soft and steady, painting slow shadows across the walls. Home surrounded her with its usual calm, yet something within her had shifted, a subtle awareness that the quiet of the night now held more than it had before.
Sleep did not come immediately.
Her mind replayed the exchange, each sentence, each pause, the tone that felt neither kind nor cruel but something in between, something old and patient. Eventually, fatigue began to draw her thoughts into softer, less defined shapes.
Tomorrow, she thought drowsily.
Morning would come.
And with it, answers. Or at least, whatever the book chose to offer in their place.
The clock ticked on. The fire sighed gently. And at last, Fila's eyes closed, the manor holding its silence as the night carried her into sleep.
Morning arrived gently, its light pale and diffused through the frost lacing the windowpanes. The manor stirred in slow, familiar stages, distant footsteps, the muted clink of plates, the soft murmur of voices carried faintly through the walls. Fila woke with that quiet awareness of place that came only at home, the sense of safety settling before memory fully returned.
Then she saw the book.
It rested exactly where she had left it, unmoving on the bedside table, its leather cover catching the thin wash of winter light. For a few moments she remained beneath the covers, watching it as though it might already be watching her back. Nothing happened. No shifting pages. No forming ink.
She exhaled softly and pushed herself upright.
The floor was cool beneath her feet. The air held that crisp morning stillness unique to winter, clean and sharp, yet threaded with warmth from the hearth that had burned low through the night. She washed, dressed, and only then allowed herself to sit once more at the edge of the bed.
The book waited.
Fila hesitated only briefly before opening it.
The pages parted without resistance. Blank parchment greeted her at first, smooth and unmarked. Then, slowly, ink surfaced.
'Good morning, Ophelia.'
The handwriting remained elegant, composed, undeniably old.
Fila's lips pressed into a faint line. 'Good morning,' she thought, more carefully this time, less startled by the act itself.
'Better,' the words replied. 'You learn'
There was a moment of nothing, only the breaths from Fila could be heard in the room.
'for your first days, I want you to focus on what you feel around the different elements. Fire, water, earth even wind. All of it.' the book wrote or spoke, it was hard to describe what it did.
She knew about feeling the elements, but she hadn't felt anything in any of them yet.
'Stop doubting me, do as I say. And you will gain result. Go a few days and do this and when you feel something, open me again' with that the book closed again.
It had given her a mission or a test in a way. She did get a little frustrated. But knowing it was a living book, there had to been some truth to the whole thing.
Fila went trough her days trying to feel something, standing close to the fireplace, holding her hand over candles. Lingering longer in the bathtub. Holding her hand in the dirt longer than she should.
And in the meantime she trained potions and spells. Charms and transfiguration.
Christmas passed, she gave the maids different books and scarfs and gloves.
Rowan and Elsbeth had given her a broom, it was quiet expensive. But she had never known much about brooms so she didn't linger on what maker it had, but it was dark and simple. It felt high quality.
Her boots pressed soft prints into the snow as she moved away from the manor's steps, fingers curled around the broom's polished handle.
It was lighter than she expected.
Fila paused, glancing back at the tall windows. Warm light glowed behind the glass. Somewhere inside, Elsbeth would be reading, Rowan likely already awake and working. The thought steadied her.
She positioned the broom beside her.
"Up," she said quietly.
The broom leapt into her hand with crisp obedience.
Fila blinked, surprised by how natural it felt, as though the wood had been waiting for her specifically. A small smile flickered across her lips. She swung a leg over, settling her weight carefully.
For a moment she simply sat there, heart thudding.
Then she kicked off.
The ground dropped away in a sudden rush. Cold wind tore at her hair as the clearing widened beneath her. Instinct and half remembered lessons guided her balance. She wobbled, dipped sharply, then corrected with a startled gasp.
Snowy trees blurred past.
A laugh burst from her chest, bright and unrestrained.
Fila climbed higher, the manor shrinking below, its roof dusted white, lights still clinging to the edges though Christmas had passed. The broom responded smoothly, eager, almost playful beneath her hands.
She banked left.
Too hard.
The world tilted violently. Her stomach lurched as the broom jerked sideways. Fila clung tighter, panic flashing hot and sudden. The handle shuddered, resisting her frantic grip.
"Steady, steady…"
Her voice vanished into the wind.
The winds were strong this high up. Any unprepared would be blown of their brooms. Fila was now still in the air, feeling the biting cold blow against her. He mind calm, focusing only on the wind. She wanted to feel it. feel that she could control the winds, but no. Nothing, she felt nothing. Only the water running from her eyes because of the cold wind hitting her face.
As the broom descended onto the grounds of the manor. Fila thought about what the book had said. To feel the elements.
How could I feel the elements, if anoyone could just feel them there wouldn't be no-majes… is it really that simple.
She had an idea now. The thought she had worked with was that the elements would just come to you. But how would they do that, and if they did that then everyone would be able to do it.
Fila knelt down into the cold snow covered ground and brushes away a layer of snow. The ground below was cold, hidden from sunlight in months now.
She placed her hand on the grass. Took a deep breath and focused.
If the elements wont come to me, I will force them.
Fila poured magic into the ground, not a slow and steady pour. She wanted the ground to feel her, make it listen.
As magic from her poured into the ground, she slowly felt herself starting to feel the fatigue. Sweat started to form on her, even as the cold weather was biting at her.
Why wont you answer me.
It kept going, and going. She was now starting to feel dizzy.
This is going to slow.
This kept going, and going.
Fila looked at the manor and saw it swaying from side to side now. But she then looked on her hand.
It was buried in dirt. And it was forming around her hand.
Was this it, feeling the elements? I could have just done this from the beginning. She sighed
The earth had answered in a way, not with much but it was still something.
Fila's breath hitched as the loose winter hardened dirt shifted, grains crawling sluggishly against her skin. What had been cold and lifeless moments before now pressed inward, curling around her fingers like something waking from a long sleep.
But she didn't get to celebrate as she was feeling herself losing control of herself.
Her face crashed into the snow. She was exhausted. But she had succeeded to some degree.
In the net moment she felt herself being carried into the warm manor, carried by Rowan and Elsbeth short behind them. they had watched the whole thing.
"You did well Fila, now rest." Elsbeth voice was heard.