"…I really want to see that mirror again. To see my family. But Professor Dumbledore has moved it somewhere—I have no idea where. I can't even find the room it was in before," Harry Potter finished his tale of holiday adventures, his voice tinged with quiet disappointment.
Ron looked at him, sympathy and helplessness mixing on his face. He honestly had no idea how to comfort Harry. Words weren't his strong suit; all he could do was be there.
So he glanced at Qin, hoping their upperclassman might have something to say.
After a pause, Qin Yu spoke, his tone gentle but steady. "Harry, there are some things… We're not you. We can't truly understand what you're feeling."
Harry looked over, lips pressed tight, and nodded.
Qin Yu went on, "There are people—your parents—who can't ever be replaced by anyone."
Harry's eyes reddened, but he nodded again.
Watching this, Ron grew anxious. What's wrong with Qin? Instead of comforting him, he's just rubbing salt in the wound!
But Qin Yu seemed not to notice Harry's reaction, and continued, "You can't let go of those people and those memories—and you don't have to."
Now Harry's eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
Qin Yu reached out, gave his shoulder a reassuring pat, and smiled warmly. "But what I want you to remember is this: you're not alone in this world. We're right here with you. And so are many others."
Seeing his senior's gentle smile, and glancing at his friends gathered around him, Harry's vision blurred.
"At the very least, if anyone bullies you, you can always come to me for help." Qin Yu shrugged, trying to lighten the mood.
"Wuu… wuu…" Harry finally broke down, sobbing loudly enough to draw curious looks from the other Gryffindors.
But after Qin gave them a quick nod—everything's fine—they all went back to their own business.
If nothing else, Qin's reputation in Gryffindor was solid. The little witch, watching everyone's reactions, couldn't help but think so to herself.
"Harry, you alright?" Ron asked, his face twisted in a worried grimace as Harry Potter wiped his eyes and nose on Ron's robe sleeve.
A tiny part of Ron was disgusted—couldn't Harry use his own sleeve?—but mostly he just felt for his friend.
"I'm fine, Ron. Thanks! And thank you, Qin, Hermione!" Harry stammered, half-laughing through his tears.
Crying and smiling at the same time—doesn't look all that 'fine' to me, Ron thought silently.
He glanced at Qin, noticing the faint, satisfied curve at the corner of his mouth.
What's so satisfying about making someone cry? Ron didn't get it.
Still, all he could do was watch his brand-new robes—bought for him by George and Fred at the start of term—get used to mop up tears, feeling a pang of heartache.
Qin Yu knew that Harry Potter wasn't the sort of kid who cried easily.
But not crying didn't mean he didn't need to let his feelings out. It was just that, until now, nobody had ever cared whether he cried or not.
So from a very young age, he'd learned: crying doesn't change anything.
He'd just gotten used to being strong.
"That cloak is really useful, Harry. Make sure you keep it safe and use it wisely," Qin Yu said, wrapping up as Harry's tears faded.
"Yeah, I will," Harry nodded.
"As for Nicolas Flamel's name—well, that's not exactly a secret you need to risk your neck to discover. That's all I'll say." Qin Yu couldn't help but offer a little nudge.
Harry and Ron looked puzzled, but Hermione frowned, already deep in thought.
"Alright. You've finished your story and had a good cry. Now go get some rest. When you wake up, I promise—Hogwarts will be bright and sunny again!" Qin Yu's words were casual and light, but they carried a quiet strength.
It was a promise of a better tomorrow—the kind of promise that keeps people moving forward.
…
After Harry and Ron left, Hermione lingered to chat with Qin Yu, asking what he'd been up to earlier.
Qin Yu didn't go into detail, just said he'd asked Professor Dumbledore about Swinton.
"…In short, Professor Swinton has definitely run into something. But whether it's what you guessed before… that's still not clear."
Seeing the concern in Hermione's eyes, Qin Yu smiled and added, "Don't worry. Professor Dumbledore said the best thing I can do is study magic, get stronger—and, well, keep working on that alchemical communication method."
Hermione knew about the alchemical communication method. It was supposed to be a way to reach Professor Swinton, though she couldn't quite grasp how it worked—she was still at the stage of just knowing such a spell existed.
"Alright, then do your best~" was all the encouragement the little witch could offer.
"Roger that, I will!" Qin Yu said, reaching out and gently smoothing the little frown between her brows with his thumb.
His touch felt almost magical—her worries eased, her mood lightened.
Honestly, if they were at home, would it work even better without using his fingers? The little witch caught herself thinking as she watched his gentle smile.
"Oh—right! I almost forgot to mention something." Hermione suddenly remembered what she'd meant to say earlier.
"What's up?" Qin Yu asked, curious.
"Looks like you forgot too," she sighed, then continued, "We forgot to give Hagrid the gift we prepared for him."
"Heh, you're right—we totally forgot. When we saw him earlier, the gift never even crossed my mind." Qin Yu laughed sheepishly.
When they'd ridden in Hagrid's sleigh, they'd been so caught up in chatting that they'd completely forgotten about the big tablecloth with the hollyhock pattern.
"It's fine—Christmas is over anyway. We can give it to him tomorrow, it'll be just as good," Qin Yu said, taking it in stride.
So they agreed: tomorrow after classes, they'd go to Hagrid's hut and present the gift properly.
"It's getting late. Time to head to bed," Qin Yu said, glancing at the magical clock and the painted figures in the portraits—some snoring, some yawning.
"Mm, alright…" The little witch's reluctance was obvious in her voice.
But then she was pulled into a warm embrace, and a gentle whisper tickled her ear:
"Good night, my dear princess!"
That lingering reluctance melted away in his warmth, and her mood soared.
"Good night, my… Qin~" she murmured back.
After saying this, she made a show of pulling away, waving goodbye.
As she clicked up the stairs to the Gryffindor girls' dormitory, the little witch was still repeating to herself:
"'Qin' and 'king' sound so alike, and I said it so softly—he probably can't tell… He called me princess, so me calling him king makes perfect sense… Yes, perfectly reasonable… Judging by Qin's reaction, he definitely didn't notice…"
She thought about it for a while, her mind growing lighter and lighter, and by the time she reached her dorm, she was already humming a happy little tune.
Little did she know, Qin Yu didn't care whether she'd said his name or "king" or "prince"—it was all the same to him.
Just like some people—whether you call them by name, or call them "brother" or "dad," does it really matter?
Night deepened, and the ancient castle gathered its young witches and wizards into dreams.
(That last line might be a bit of a run-on, but sometimes you just need to go with the feeling.)
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