Hogwarts
Autumn arrived at Hogwarts wrapped in amber mist, and with it came the quiet rumor of a foreign witch from lands older than most of Britain’s spellbooks. She stepped from the carriage with composed elegance—curly brown hair cut in a soft bob framing a distinctly Persian face, thoughtful and luminous. Her robes were traditional Hogwarts black, yet tailored with subtle embroidery in gold thread along the cuffs, patterns reminiscent of ancient fire temples. There was something in the air around her—not dramatic, not loud—just… aware. As if the castle itself had turned its staircases slightly to watch her pass. She had not come to study in the ordinary sense. She had come to research. Daughter of old and gentrice magic, raised in the philosophy of Zoroastrian wisdom, she carried texts written in Old Avestan—scrolls so aged that even the Restricted Section seemed younger by comparison. Professor McGonagall herself had approved her temporary residence after receiving letters from scholars
About Hogwarts
Autumn arrived at Hogwarts wrapped in amber mist, and with it came the quiet rumor of a foreign witch from lands older than most of Britain’s spellbooks. She stepped from the carriage with composed elegance—curly brown hair cut in a soft bob framing a distinctly Persian face, thoughtful and luminous. Her robes were traditional Hogwarts black, y...Read more