Oliver Wood's POV
I didn't open it right away.
The owl arrived just after midnight - silent, sharp-eyed, dropping the letter in the middle of my desk like it knew exactly how much weight it carried.
Her handwriting. My name.
But there was no rush in me.
No panic. No flutter of "what if."
Just the kind of stillness that comes when you already know the answer before the question's even asked.
I broke the seal.
And read it once.
Then again.
Then sat back and let it burn through me like her magic always does.
She wasn't asking for a dance.
She was asking for presence. For certainty. For someone who wouldn't flinch under a hundred stares or bend beneath the Ministry's polished scrutiny.
She was asking for me.
Not the Keeper.
Not the contract.
Just me.
⸻
I didn't write her a long reply.
She didn't need poetry.
She needed a promise.
Harriet,
I'll be there.
I've always been there.
We walk in together.
And they'll remember who stood beside you.
-O
-
The next day, I called in my favor with Thorne.
Not to sneak into Hogwarts.
But to make sure my appearance at the Yule Ball was fully sanctioned and impossible to challenge.
If I was going to be on her arm - if I was going to walk into that place as hers - it wouldn't be in the shadows this time.
It would be seen.
Because she'd earned that.
Because we both had.
And because when the fire chooses you, the only answer worth giving is: I choose you back.
YOU ARE READING
In Shadow and Signal (Book 2)
FanfictionShe didn't enter the Tournament. But the fire still chose her. Harriet Potter never asked for legacy magic, secret contracts, or a front-row seat to the rising storm of war. But when the Goblet of Fire spits out her name, everything changes. Now she...
