In a world always bustling with noise, peace is like a slow, quiet stream.
Not flashy, not grand, yet it weaves itself into the longest, most enduring melody of life.
Night had fallen over the castle. The hum of footsteps, laughter, and voices slowly faded away, leaving the long corridors in silence. Well, most of them.
While the stone hallways had finally quieted down, the same couldn't be said for the common rooms. Far from it, in fact.
Because once you've truly experienced Hogwarts, you'll realize something: the common rooms aren't just places to rest. They're the true heartlands of the students' world.
In the common rooms, no professors popped up unexpectedly around the corner, and you could almost always count on avoiding those you'd rather not see. Disagreements rarely escalated there. Most of the time, people laughed, played games, threw pillows, or simply lived without a care.
Or with complete recklessness.
"I swear, they went all in this time," Ron muttered, sprawled in a worn-out armchair, his voice thick with grumbling disappointment. "I did the math. Those sweets? They've got to be worth at least a few dozen Galleons altogether..."
He sighed dramatically.
"Shame I only managed to grab a few. That Hufflepuff girl body-slammed me into the cauldron display."
Ron's grumbling, of course, was reserved strictly for Harry. The moment anyone else wandered near, his expression snapped into something far more respectable, serious even - practically textbook prefect behavior.
Not that he had much of a choice. Seventh year was looming ahead, and unlike most students, Ron had responsibilities now. With that badge on his chest and the pressure of expectation breathing down his neck, every move he made could be watched, judged, remembered.
Next year, the Head Boy and Head Girl would be chosen. Everyone knew it. And everyone also knew how power worked.
It's a funny thing. Most people claim to despise it, until they finally have a taste of it. Then they don't want to give it up.
Without quite realizing it, Ron had begun acting more and more like Percy once did. Perhaps even worse. At least Percy, back in the day, had shown a bit of heart when it came to his siblings.
Harry, as the only one Ron still spoke to without putting on a performance, had seen the shift. And he didn't like it. He understood the cost of titles, of glory, of recognition. After everything they'd been through, he knew that fame and authority were more burden than prize.
But friendship had rules too. Some things just couldn't be said aloud.
So he kept quiet and waited for the year to pass.
Truthfully, anyone with sense knew who next year's Head Boy was going to be. Ron just hadn't caught on yet.
Harry's silence didn't bother Ron, who continued muttering to himself. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrapped sweet from the pile he'd grabbed earlier. He didn't even look at it before unwrapping it and tossing it in his mouth.
The moment the sugary taste hit his tongue, he froze. His fingers paused mid-air. His words died.
Harry looked up. He'd seen this kind of behavior from Ron before - usually when someone had walked into the room that Ron wanted to impress, or a professor had turned the corner unexpectedly. But this time was different.
This time, Ron stayed frozen.
Several long seconds passed before Ron finally spoke, his voice softer than before.
"Harry… do you remember the flying car from second year?"
Harry blinked. "The one we crashed into the Whomping Willow?"
Ron gave a slow nod, and for the first time in ages, his voice didn't carry the edge of forced maturity. It sounded lighter. Honest.
"I think we should go look for it. In the Forest."
Harry stared. This was so out of the blue it took him a moment to register what Ron had said.
But then, he saw the grin. That lopsided, trouble-making, genuinely Ron smile. The kind Harry hadn't seen in a long while.
Ron opened his hands as if to say I know, I'm ridiculous, and chuckled.
"Come on. I just want to find something I lost."
Harry grinned back.
"Alright. I'm in," he said, unwrapping one of the sweets himself and popping it into his mouth.
"After all, that car was our mess."
And for a moment, it was like being twelve again.
Sometimes, happiness doesn't hide. It just drifts away when you're not looking, tucked into corners of memory and left behind.
But forgotten doesn't mean lost.
Sometimes, all it takes is a piece of candy to stir the dust off an old laugh, or a boyhood adventure.
This Halloween night, everyone in the castle had eaten those mysteriously delicious sweets that had appeared out of nowhere.
But the magic wasn't confined to Hogwarts.
In Hogsmeade, inside Honeydukes, a plain brown paper package now sat quietly on the front counter. Tomorrow morning, Mr. Flume would find it, and smile.
Because kindness, in the end, always finds its way back.
So does loyalty.
Far from the castle, in the village of Pilton, the night was still far from over.
After a successful raid, the Aurors and Hit Wizards were busy with cleanup.
Furniture that shouted. Sweets that had fallen from the sky. Talking vases. All needed to be properly documented, contained, and de-spelled.
"What do we do with all this stuff?" one of the Aurors muttered, staring at the wreckage of the Lestrange Manor.
The place looked thoroughly defeated. Shattered doors, cursed portraits, and hexed tapestries still wriggling like snakes on the floor.
Unlike the others, Amelia Bones had already made up her mind.
"We'll send a letter to Mr. Swinburne in the morning. These things need a proper home."
She'd seen how much the boy had cared about his home back in Hogsmeade, the way he looked at its ruins. And this - this was within her authority.
Besides, everyone knew the rule. When you bring down a dark wizard, you're entitled to the spoils. It was unofficial, of course, but no one questioned it.
The Lestrange estate was valuable. Extremely so.
But not everyone could handle it. That kind of power came with a weight.
No one objected to Amelia's proposal. The decision was quick, clean, and fair. The others set to work, cataloguing the artifacts, marking down items with practiced efficiency.
Only one person drifted from the group.
Mad-Eye Moody had quietly stepped aside, slipping a few enchanted cups into his coat. Every now and then, he'd gently pat the pocket, as if calming a child.
Everyone saw it. No one said a word.
Moody had given his entire life to the job. Broken body. Scarred soul. Now in retirement, if he wanted to take a few magical teacups home with him, no one was going to stop him.
Even Amelia pretended not to notice.
Everyone knew Moody. Cautious to the point of paranoia. Practically friendless.
But maybe now, with these oddly noisy cups, he wouldn't be so alone.
The silence wasn't just kindness. It was agreement.
Moody knew they knew. And they knew he knew they knew.
And yet, not a word was spoken.
Because truthfully, Moody probably wasn't going back to a quiet life. He'd likely stay at Hogwarts, take up a position on the grounds, maybe even as gamekeeper.
It was a fitting end, in its way.
The autumn wind stirred the fallen leaves, and then moved on, leaving stillness in its wake.
Eventually, the last of the wreckage was cleared. The Aurors filed back to the Ministry, tired but efficient.
Pilton, now empty of curses and combat, returned to its quiet, rural peace.
Somewhere in the village, an owl hooted once, low and slow, as if it too were settling down.
Everything that had happened now felt like a dream. But the trampled grass, broken branches, and shattered wards told another story.
The village slept once more.
But the Ministry did not.
Even though it was well past midnight, the Ministry of Magic in London buzzed like a stirred hive.
Aside from the Department of Mysteries, who seemed to ignore everything as usual, nearly every other department had representatives loitering in the lobby.
The ground floor was packed. Witches and wizards filled every bench, stood along every corridor, even perched along the edges of the Fountain of Magical Brethren.
Some looked relaxed. Others tense. A few were clearly terrified.
But all of them were waiting.
Waiting for Amelia Bones to return.
Waiting to hear the truth about the news they had received.
Waiting for the aftermath to finally settle.