Winter settled over Hogwarts in full force, transforming the castle into a landscape of ice and snow. Icicles hung like jagged teeth from the towers, the Black Lake had frozen over in an eerie, glass-like sheen, and students bundled themselves in thick cloaks as they hurried between classes.
Despite the biting cold, Artemis felt a strange sort of warmth—a warmth that came from a sense of belonging, from the knowledge that she was carving a place for herself in this world.
And yet, even as the Yule holidays loomed, she found herself with little time to rest.
The first term at Hogwarts had flown by in a whirlwind of lessons, study sessions, and sleepless nights spent hunched over parchment. By mid-December, the castle was adorned with festive decorations—enchanted snowflakes drifted lazily from the Great Hall ceiling, evergreen garlands twined around staircases, and the scent of warm treacle tart seemed to follow students wherever they went.
Yet, while most of her classmates were growing restless for the winter holidays, Artemis had something else on her mind.
Her research.
The day Artemis submitted her first papers to Professors Flitwick and Slughorn was a nerve-wracking one.
The Wand Movements in Charms: A First-Year's Exploration of Ancient and Modern Techniques was a culmination of weeks of study, detailing the evolution of basic wand movements in spellwork in various situations. She had pored over historical texts, analyzed wand movements, and even attempted to subtly observe the older students during their spell practices.
Meanwhile, her Potions paper, The Influence of Ingredient Variability on the Effects of Draughts and Tonics, was based on independent experiments she had conducted under Slughorn's occasional supervision. She had examined how different cutting techniques, stirring speeds, and brewing times could alter even the simplest of potions.
That morning, she walked to Slughorn's office first, clutching the neatly rolled parchment.
The moment she stepped inside, the heady scent of cloves and bubbling potions filled her senses. Slughorn sat behind his desk, his broad figure draped in rich emerald robes. He looked up from a crystal goblet filled with a suspiciously thick golden liquid.
"Ah, Miss Lovelace!" he beamed, setting his drink aside. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Artemis took a steadying breath and held out the parchment. "My research paper, Professor. As you requested."
Slughorn's eyes gleamed with intrigue as he accepted it, running his fingers along the edge of the parchment. "Already, my dear girl? Ambitious—very ambitious! But I'd expect nothing less from a Lovelace." He chuckled, then patted the stack of essays on his desk. "I imagine this will be far more riveting than marking these first-year attempts at identifying bezoars."
Artemis gave a small, knowing smile.
Slughorn unfurled the parchment slightly, scanning the first few lines. His lips pursed in thought before curling into a pleased grin. "This looks quite promising. You know, if the content matches the quality of this introduction, I daresay we might even submit it to The Potioneer's Journal. After some Refining of course"
Her heart skipped a beat. Published? At eleven?
"I—Thank you, Professor," she said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.
"I'll read it thoroughly over the holidays," Slughorn promised, then leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling. "And if it's as impressive as I suspect, I might have to introduce you to some rather influential people in the field."
She swallowed her nerves and nodded. "That would be an honor, sir."
Next was Flitwick.
Unlike Slughorn's office, Flitwick's was a warm and cluttered space, filled with stacks of books that nearly towered over him. He was perched on his desk, nose buried in a particularly thick tome, but when Artemis knocked, he immediately brightened.
"Miss Lovelace! Come in, come in!"
She handed over her Charms research with careful precision.
Flitwick adjusted his spectacles, eyes flitting over the title. Then, to her shock, he let out an excited squeak.
"Oh, brilliant!" he said, beaming. "Wand movement technique comparisons! I've been meaning to see a fresh perspective on this for years."
Artemis blinked. "You have?"
"Oh yes, indeed! Most young minds focus on spell strength—but you, my dear, seem to be investigating technique." He chuckled to himself as he flipped through the pages. "This… this is very promising. With some refinement, I dare say this could be worthy of The Journal of Charms and Spellcraft."
Another possible publication.
Artemis tried to stay composed, but inside, she was giddy.
"I'll provide feedback after the holidays," Flitwick promised. "But for now, take pride in this accomplishment, Miss Lovelace. You have a talent—and a mind for research."
"Thank you, Professor," she said softly.
As if two potential publications weren't enough, Artemis still had to turn in her progress reports to Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout before the winter break.
McGonagall, as expected, was pleased but measured in her response.
"This is a commendable effort, Miss Lovelace," she had said after skimming through the report. "However, do ensure you are not overextending yourself. Ambition is an excellent trait—but not at the cost of balance."
Artemis had promised to be mindful.
Sprout, on the other hand, was elated.
"You and your friends have made such wonderful progress!" she gushed, cheeks flushed with excitement. "I was hesitant about first-years taking on such a detailed Herbology project, but you've proven me wrong. I'll be sure to get you new seed samples after the holidays—perhaps even some rarer ones!"
Artemis had smiled at that. She knew Rosaline would be pleased, and perhaps the promise of new materials would further mend their friendship.
The last couple of weeks before winter break was a flurry of essays, practical exams, and last-minute assignments.
"I swear," Eliza groaned, dramatically flopping onto a library table, "if I have to write one more foot of parchment on medieval wizarding trials, I will throw myself into the lake."
"You'd freeze before you drowned," Artemis replied dryly, quill scratching against parchment as she finished her Potions essay.
Eliza groaned louder. "How are you not dying? We just finished our Transfiguration essay, and now you're onto Potions?"
"Because she's not human," Rosaline muttered, not looking up from her Charms textbook.
"I just like to be prepared," Artemis said, smirking.
"That's an understatement," Eliza huffed. She glanced around, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Speaking of which—any news on those research papers? Or has Flitwick decided to adopt you?"
Artemis snorted. "Nothing yet. They'll read them over the holidays."
Eliza wiggled her eyebrows. "So, there's still a chance you'll be published before you turn twelve. No big deal."
Rosaline shot Artemis a look, something unreadable in her expression. "It's impressive. Truly."
Artemis tilted her head, sensing something beneath the words. It wasn't resentment—it was something softer now, something more self-reflective. Perhaps Rosaline was still coming to terms with her own ambitions, her own place in their trio.
"We should celebrate," Eliza declared. "You know, after we survive exams."
"Hot chocolate in the common room?" Artemis suggested.
"With extra marshmallows," Rosaline added.
Eliza grinned. "Now that's a plan I can get behind."
One evening, after a particularly heavy snowfall, Artemis found herself in the library, quill poised over fresh parchment.
She had a new research goal.
Since arriving at Hogwarts, she had been steadily compiling her thoughts, sketching out a roadmap for what knowledge she could leverage. She had a lifetime of education behind her, but without the structure of formal academia, she had to tread carefully. What was useful? What was dangerous?
She had already compiled a small journal of notes about what she remembered of the war—what little her past self had retained from the Harry Potter books. Names, events, outcomes. But as she sat in the dim glow of the library lamps, she considered something new:
What if she used her research to subtly shift the tides?
Nothing grand. Nothing that would put her in the direct line of fire.
But knowledge was power.
And she had more than enough of it to make a difference.
A familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Lovelace, you live here."
Artemis looked up to find Magnus Kane, one of her new Ravenclaw friends, raising an eyebrow at her. He was a tall, serious boy with a perpetual look of mild exasperation, though Artemis had long since realized it was mostly for show.
"I like it here," she replied simply.
Magnus smirked and slid into the chair across from her, eyeing her parchment. "What are you working on now? Deciphering ancient runes? Solving the meaning of life?"
"Just… organizing my thoughts," Artemis said, tucking her notes away.
Magnus hummed. "You know, for someone who claims to not like attention, you sure do attract a lot of it. Flitwick, Slughorn, Sprout—half the professors are watching you."
Artemis considered that. "I don't want attention," she admitted. "I just want to learn."
Magnus gave her a knowing look. "You can do both, you know."
She wasn't so sure.
The day the letter arrived, Artemis had been curled up in the Ravenclaw common room, flipping through a book, while a light snowfall dusted the castle grounds beyond the arched windows. The warmth of the fireplace and the soft glow of enchanted lamps cast a golden hue across the space, and despite the bitter cold outside, she felt utterly at ease.
Until a house-elf appeared before her.
With a quiet pop, the tiny creature materialized beside her chair, clutching a silver tray upon which a sealed letter rested.
"Miss Artemis Lovelace," the elf squeaked, bowing so deeply that the tip of his long nose nearly touched the floor. "Professor Slughorn sends his regards."
Artemis blinked. "Oh. Thank you."
She reached for the envelope, which was thick, high-quality parchment, the Hogwarts crest pressed into deep green wax. The elf gave another deep bow before vanishing with another quiet pop.
That certainly drew attention.
From the corner of the room, Magnus Kane, ever observant, peered over his book. "Getting special letters from the professors now, Lovelace?"
Vivian Delacroix, lounging on a nearby settee, arched a perfectly shaped brow. "Ooooh, let's hear it. Is it a secret mission? A prophecy, perhaps?"
Artemis rolled her eyes but unfolded the letter, scanning it quickly. The moment she finished, Eliza—who had been sitting beside her and definitely reading over her shoulder—snatched the parchment right from her hands.
Miss Lovelace,
I am delighted by your academic prowess and would like to extend an invitation to a small gathering of select students and a few guests over the holiday season. We will discuss Potions, academics, and perhaps even a few future prospects among like minded people. You can Floo over to my Office during the Evening of 27th December at 6 PM with your Guardian, just Send me your and your guardian's RSVP by 24th December.
Happy Holidays dear Child
Hogwarts Potions Master,
Horace Slugorn
"Slughorn's Slug Club?" Eliza read aloud, voice brimming with disbelief.
That got an immediate reaction. Several heads turned toward them, while Rosaline, sitting across the table, frowned. "Already?" she muttered.
"Apparently so," Artemis said, leaning back in her chair, her face neutral.
Eliza, however, was anything but neutral. She waved the letter in front of Rosaline. "Are we not going to talk about this? She just got here, and Slughorn is already trying to collect her?"
Magnus let out a short laugh. "That man can smell talent like a bloodhound. He always picks the best and the brightest."
Vivian smirked. "And the most connected."
Artemis tapped her fingers against the table, rereading the letter as Eliza handed it back. "It's just a small gathering. A discussion on Potions, academics, and—" she squinted at the parchment "—'future prospects.'"
"Future prospects," Rosaline echoed dryly. "That's a fancy way of saying networking."
Artemis nodded. "That's what I gathered, yes."
Vivian tilted her head. "Are you going to accept?"
That was the question, wasn't it?
Later that evening, as the common room emptied and her friends drifted to their dormitories, Artemis remained by the window, her mind still lingering on Slughorn's invitation.
She knew enough about the man to understand his motivations. He wasn't purely an academic—he was a collector of influential, talented students. The Slug Club was his way of maintaining connections, of ensuring that, years down the line, he could call upon those he had once favored.
Was that something she wanted to be a part of?
On one hand, she valued knowledge. She was already excelling in Potions, and an opportunity to converse with like-minded students (and perhaps even some upper-years) could be invaluable. If nothing else, it would give her insight into Hogwarts' internal power structures. And what was that about guests, It could be a chance to shine at such a young age, and didn't she have her great aunt to help her through everything?
On the other hand, standing out too much was dangerous. She had already drawn more attention than she intended with her rapid academic progress. Did she really want to attach herself to a professor known for his political maneuvering?
Artemis sighed, rubbing her temples.
Her instincts screamed at her to stay in the background. But—
Wasn't she already past that point?
She had friends. Connections. Professors watching her closely. And if there was one thing she had learned in her old life, it was that influence was a tool.
Perhaps it was time to start using it.
Decision made, she reached for her quill.
Dear Aunt Aurelia,
I hope this letter finds you well. Hogwarts has been keeping me quite busy, but I've enjoyed every moment of it. There's always something new to learn, someone interesting to meet, and of course, no shortage of surprises. Speaking of surprises—
I received an invitation from Professor Slughorn today. He has extended an offer for me to attend one of his exclusive gatherings over the holiday season, an event he hosts for select students he finds… promising. He mentioned discussions on Potions, academics, and future prospects—though I imagine it's more of a networking opportunity. He also mentioned some guests.
While I appreciate the recognition, I'm not entirely sure what to make of it. Slughorn is known for collecting talented and well-connected students, and I suppose I should be flattered to be considered so early. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't wary of drawing too much attention too soon.
That said, I know an opportunity when I see one, and I think it would be unwise to dismiss it outright. I could use your guidance in navigating this, as I suspect you've dealt with such circles before. Since I'll be home for the holidays, Professor Slughorn has asked that I bring a guardian along, and I can't think of anyone better suited for the role than you. Would you be willing to accompany me? The event will take place on the evening of 27th december at 6 PM. I need to send an RSVP by 24th December to ensure my participation.
Additionally, I'd appreciate your advice on how best to draft my response. I don't want to appear too eager, nor do I wish to seem disinterested. There's a balance to be struck, I imagine, and I trust your expertise in matters of diplomacy.
Let me know what you think, and whether you'll be available. Give my love to Grent and Fenny. I can't wait to see you all soon.
With love,
Artemis
She received a Reply the very next day as she packed her trunk to catch the Hogwarts express.
My Dearest Artemis,
What a delightful letter to receive! I am so incredibly proud of you, my dear girl—though I cannot say I am surprised. Your talent, wit, and dedication were bound to be noticed sooner rather than later. To be invited into Professor Slughorn's esteemed circle at such a young age is no small feat. You remind me so much of myself at your age—ambitious, inquisitive, and far too clever for your own good.
Of course, I will accompany you to the gathering. I would not miss it for the world. It will be a wonderful opportunity, not just for you but for us both—I confess, I'm rather curious to see what sort of young minds Slughorn has been collecting this year. I will make certain we are well-prepared; a gathering like this is as much about presence as it is about intellect. You will need to be observant, strategic, and—above all—yourself.
As for your response to him, I will help you craft it when you arrive home, though I suspect you already know exactly what to say. A polite but confident acceptance, expressing gratitude for the invitation without seeming overeager, should suffice. We will refine it together over tea.
Speaking of which, I cannot wait to have you home for the holidays. The house has been far too quiet without you, and Grent and Fenny are already fussing over your return. Fenny has taken it upon herself to plan an entire feast in your honor, and I daresay Grent is polishing the silver twice over.
Travel safely, my dear. I look forward to hearing all about your first term in person.
With all my love,
Your Aunt Aurelia