HP: A different time, A different story

The emerald flames of the Floo Network roared to life in the grand fireplace of Reed Manor, and Joanna Stark emerged gracefully, her presence commanding as always. She stepped aside, making room for her son, Aryan, who followed with practiced ease. Aryan's movements were fluid, though he brushed a bit of soot off his dark robes with mild irritation. His violet eyes swept across the room, immediately taking in every detail.

Standing at the center of the ornately decorated hall were the Reeds—Lord Henry Reed, his lean frame exuding authority, his sharp brown eyes observing the Starks with polite curiosity; and beside him, Lady Callidora Reed (née Black), her striking features marked by the unmistakable pride of the Black lineage. Her expression was warm but reserved, softened slightly by the hint of a smile reserved for their guests.

Aryan's gaze lingered momentarily on the young girl standing slightly behind her parents. She had her arms crossed, her expression caught between disinterest and mild defiance. Vivian Reed—her hair, a shimmering, deep blue—immediately stood out in the otherwise austere setting. Her posture, as much as her vivid appearance, spoke of someone who didn't care to hide her feelings.

Joanna gave her son a gentle nudge, and Aryan suppressed a sigh. Being the heir of an ancient and noble house, he was beginning to realize, came with far too many expectations. Straightening his shoulders, he stepped forward and inclined his head respectfully.

"Lord Henry, Lady Callidora," Aryan greeted with the practiced politeness of someone who'd been trained for such occasions. His tone was smooth, but there was genuine warmth behind it. "Thank you for receiving us. It's an honor to be here."

Henry offered a small nod, his voice steady as he replied, "The honor is ours, Aryan. Your family's history with ours is a bond we've always cherished."

Aryan's lips curved into a faint smile. "Indeed, the ties between House Stark and House Reed go back further than most can remember. It's a privilege to continue that legacy."

As his gaze shifted back to Vivian, he inclined his head slightly in her direction. "And you must be Vivian. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Vivian's response was a dismissive hum, her eyes briefly meeting his before she looked away. The air grew a little tense as her parents exchanged uneasy glances, but Aryan's expression didn't falter. Instead, he offered a faint chuckle, as if to brush off the slight.

Lady Callidora's voice, tinged with embarrassment but steady, cut in. "Please, come inside.."

The Reeds led their guests into the main hall, where refreshments awaited. The room's grandeur was unmistakable—rich tapestries adorned the walls, each depicting a chapter of the Reed family's storied history. Dark wood furniture with intricate carvings lent the space a sense of timeless nobility. Joanna and Lady Callidora quickly fell into conversation, their tones familiar and friendly, leaving Aryan to engage with Lord Reed.

As the minutes passed, Aryan handled the small talk with effortless charm, his responses measured yet engaging. Lady Callidora, observing him closely, was visibly impressed by the young Stark heir's poise and maturity. She turned to Vivian with a purposeful smile.

"Vivian," she said gently but firmly, "why don't you show Aryan around the manor?"

Vivian's lips pursed in protest, but a subtle look from her mother made her nod reluctantly. Without a word, she gestured for Aryan to follow her, and he obliged, his expression remaining calm as they walked out of the room.

The silence between them was heavy as they moved through the grand corridors of the manor. Aryan's eyes roamed over the elaborate architecture, the antique furnishings, and the portraits that seemed to watch him as they passed. Yet, his thoughts kept drifting back to the girl in front of him—her demeanor, her unusual hair, and the apparent wall she'd erected between herself and the world.

Finally, Aryan decided to break the ice. "You know," he said lightly, "for someone with such vibrant hair, you're awfully quiet."

Vivian stopped abruptly, turning to face him with a mix of surprise and irritation. "What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped, her blue hair shimmering as it caught the light.

Aryan raised his hands in mock surrender, a small smile playing on his lips. "Nothing bad. Just an observation. I thought you might have a lot to say."

She narrowed her eyes at him, her arms crossing defensively. "Well, I don't. So, you're out of luck."

Aryan's smile didn't waver. Instead, he tilted his head slightly. "Do you dislike me?" he asked, his tone casual but direct.

Vivian blinked, clearly caught off guard. Her hair, as if reacting to her emotions, began to shift colors, fading from blue to a silvery hue. Aryan's eyes widened slightly as realization dawned.

"You're a Metamorphmagus," he said softly, more to himself than to her.

Vivian's face paled. Her fists clenched at her sides as she braced for the worst. "Go on," she muttered, her voice trembling. "Say what everyone else does."

Aryan frowned, genuinely confused. "What is everyone else saying?"

Her eyes darted to the floor. "That I'm a freak."

Aryan's expression softened. Taking a step closer, he spoke with quiet conviction. "You're not a freak. Your abilities are incredible."

Vivian's head snapped up, her silver hair shifting back to blue as her eyes searched his face for any sign of deceit. "You really think so?"

He smiled warmly. "Absolutely. I've never seen anything like it. You're unique, Vivian. That's something to be proud of."

Her cheeks flushed, and for the first time, a tentative smile graced her lips. "You're not what I expected," she admitted, her voice quieter now.

"What did you expect?" Aryan asked, genuinely curious.

Vivian hesitated before replying, "Some stuck-up noble brat who'd look down on me." Realizing how blunt her words sounded, she winced. "Sorry, that came out wrong."

To her surprise, Aryan laughed—a light, genuine sound that seemed to put her at ease. "No offense taken," he said, still smiling. "But I'm glad to prove you wrong."

Feeling emboldened, Vivian took a deep breath. "Do you… want to be friends?" she asked tentatively, her voice almost a whisper.

Aryan's response was immediate and sincere. "I'd like that very much."

Vivian's face lit up with joy, and for the first time, the icy demeanor she'd worn so stubbornly melted away. The rest of the tour was filled with light conversation and laughter, the two children finding a surprising and easy camaraderie. By the time they returned to the main hall, they were both at ease, their bond already evident.

Lady Callidora's eyes softened as she observed her daughter's newfound happiness. Joanna, too, seemed pleased, exchanging a knowing smile with her friend.

As the Starks prepared to leave, Vivian ran up to Aryan, her blue hair shimmering like a wave. "You'll come back, right?" she asked earnestly.

Aryan nodded, his smile warm. "And you'll visit Winterfell. We'll explore the library together. Deal?"

Vivian beamed. "Deal."

As the Floo Network carried the Starks away, the Reeds watched their daughter, her happiness infectious. It was a moment of connection that marked the beginning of a lasting friendship.