Author's Note:
Hey everyone! Just a quick heads-up—sorry for any mistakes in this chapter. I'm experimenting with a few new things, and to be honest, I'm really tired today. I originally planned for something specific to happen here, but the chapter started getting a bit too long and ran away from me, so I had to cut it off earlier than expected. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you still enjoy it!
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Illuna woke early, as usual. The dormitory was still steeped in that peculiar half-darkness before dawn, where shadows clung to the edges of the room like shy Lethifolds, not a comforting thought . She shifted under her blanket, the rough texture of parchment still imprinted on her fingertips. Had she really been writing in her journal that long last night?
She groaned softly, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyelids. Perhaps I was nervous about asking Tessa for help. The thought prickled—not because it was untrue, but because admitting it felt like surrendering to something foolish. Hufflepuffs are statistically more agreeable, she reminded herself. This is logical.
With a sigh, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The stone floor was icy, a shock that chased the last dregs of sleep from her bones. Just once, she thought bitterly, I wish my internal clock would fail me. Just once, I'd like to wake up to sunlight already spilled across the floor.
She padded to the bathroom, moving quietly so as not to disturb her roommates. The faucet's creak was too loud in the silence; she winced, catching her reflection in the mirror as water rushed over her hands.
The girl staring back at her was familiar, yet subtly altered. There—under her eyes, faint but undeniable—were the shadows of sleeplessness. Bags, her mind supplied unhelpfully. Like you've been carrying something heavy.
Home sickness, she diagnosed. It wasn't the aching, childlike kind, but something quieter—a hollow space behind her ribs that no amount of reading could fill. She'd tried, of course. Every night, she'd burrowed into her blankets, as if they alone where the reason for her sleep deprivation.
Ifonly I were better at cosmetic charms, she mused, tracing a finger beneath one eye. Was it the Beautification Charm that erased dark circles? Or something more advanced? Another thing to research.
By 6:30, she was at her desk, quill scratching across parchment in steady, methodical strokes. The ritual of study was a comfort—potions and herbolagy, two subject combinations that felt so uniquely suited for her home sickness.
At 7:25, Mira stirred. Illuna didn't look up, but she tracked the other girl's movements in her periphery: the rustle of blankets, the soft shuffle of slippers, the click of the bathroom door. When Mira emerged, she moved to the small kettle in the corner, the one she'd charmed to boil silently. The scent of bergamot and something earthy—new tea today—drifted through the room.
Illuna watched, struck by the domesticity of it. Mira moved like clockwork, steady and sure, measuring leaves into cups with the precision of a potioneer. Like a mother Graphorn, Illuna thought suddenly, the way they herd their young with those massive horns, gentle despite the strength. The comparison was absurd enough to make her lips twitch.
A pang of guilt followed. She does this every morning, and I've never once offered to help.
Mira placed a steaming cup beside her without a word. Illuna murmured her thanks, wrapping her hands around the porcelain. The heat seeped into her fingers, a small, grounding pleasure. She took a sip—peach and ginger, maybe?—and let the flavor bloom across her tongue. Divine.
Across the room, Beth sat up with a dramatic yawn. "Mira, you angel," she slurred, reaching blindly for her own cup. Nellie merely grunted into her pillow, one hand flopping out in a silent plea for caffeine.
Illuna hid her smile behind another sip. The tea was too hot, really, but she drank it anyway, savouring the way it burned.
The four of them walked through the arched hallways, the morning light filtering through the high windows in pale streaks. Mira kept pace beside Illuna, her gaze flickering again to the shadows under her friend's eyes—darker than yesterday, she noted with a frown.
Illuna was talking more than usual, her words brisk but oddly animated. She gestured to a passing portrait of a snoozing medieval witch, remarking on how the subject's snoring synchronized with the ticking of the clock tower. Beth laughed, nearly tripping over a loose stone, while Nellie shot Mira a knowing look.
She's overcompensating, Mira realized.
Earlier, in the dimness of the Ravenclaw dormitory corridor, Nellie had pulled her aside. "You see it too, don't you?" she'd whispered, jerking her chin toward Illuna's retreating back. "She looks like she's been wrestling a Dementor in her sleep."
Now, Mira nudged Illuna's shoulder lightly. "You sure you're alright? You've got—" She tapped her own under-eye pointedly.
Illuna waved her off. "Barely noticeable. Just stayed up revising."
Mira bit her tongue. Liar. But she wouldn't press—not with Beth within earshot, obliviously smashing her toast into a pile of mashed peas like a gleeful bulldozer.
Thank Merlin for small mercies, Mira thought. If Beth had noticed, she'd have already bellowed, "WAIT, YOU AREN'T GETTING ENOUGH SLEEP?"across the Great Hall, ensuring even the ghosts turned to stare.
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Illuna stifled a sigh. So much for subtlety.
She'd hoped the lack of sleep wouldn't be obvious—she'd even tried a hastaly cover up her bags in the bathroom—but Mira's sharp eyes and Nellie's sideways glances had foiled her.
Only Beth remained blissfully unaware, her attention laser-focused on demolishing breakfast with the precision of a troll in a china shop.
Tomorrow night, Illuna reassured herself. After charms there is a free piriod of rest. I'll catch up on sleep then.
The food today was suspiciously bland. Had the house-elves forgotten the salt? Or was this some misguided attempt at "healthy eating" from Professor Sprout? She poked at her scrambled eggs, which resembled pale yellow clouds of disappointment.
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The torches in the dungeon corridor guttered as they descended, casting long, twisting shadows. Beth gripped Nellie's arm, her voice a theatrical whisper: "D'you think Peeves ever lurks down here? Like, jump-scare lurking?"
Nellie shuddered. "Don't. Even. Joke."
Illuna blinked. their afraid of the dark? This is new information, she didn't really understand what there was to be afraid off she looked ahead of her, where Mira walked straight and regal unbothered by the dark. well she wakes up when shadows still crawl she aught to be use to it
The dungeon door swung open with a theatrical creak, revealing the warm, cluttered interior of the Potions classroom. The scent of dried herbs and simmering pewter cauldrons wrapped around them like a thick blanket.
At the front of the room, Professor Slughorn stood with his hands clasped over his waistcoat, beaming. "Ah! My eagle-eyed Ravenclaws! Punctual as ever—though not, I'm afraid, the earliest today." He twinkled, nodding toward the front row. "A certain serpent has outmanoeuvred you."
Illuna followed his gaze. There, hunched over a pristine textbook, sat Severus Snape. His quill moved in sharp, precise strokes, barely pausing as Slughorn announced his victory.
"Now, now, seats everyone!" Slughorn clapped. "Let's not let Slytherin monopolize all the best workstations.
Illuna walked up to where Snape sat she hesitated only a second before sliding into the seat beside Snape. He didn't look up, but his quill stopped mid-word.
"You look terrible, " he muttered, low enough that only she could hear.
Illuna stiffened. "Charmed as ever, Severus."
Slughorn waited for the rest of his class to trickle in, before continuing excitedly "this year you will not only learn of brewing potions but also about every ingredient and what said ingredient may inflict on your potion. "
A beat. Then, almost grudgingly: "…The cure for boils potion we're going over today . Useful indeed for later years of your life's. He said with a amusement.
Across the room, at Illuna and Severus, Mira watched them with quiet curiosity, while Beth mouthed, "Why's he scowling at his own ink?!"
Slughorn spoke, "to make the cure for boils one needs honey, tea tree oil, turmeric, and?
Snape raised his hand, a second later so did Illuna
Slughorn's chuckle was rich with delight. "Ah! A duel of intellects already!"
The classroom crackled with competitive energy as Slughorn's questions grew increasingly obscure.
"The primary difference between moonstone and opal in vision potions?" Slughorn prompted, twirling his moustache.
Illuna's hand shot up a hair faster than Snape's. "Moonstone refracts light to *enhance* night vision, while opal absorbs ambient light to sharpen focus."
"Technically correct," Snape drawled, not to be outdone, "but omits that opal's absorption property makes it useless in *low-light* conditions—a fact any competent brewer would consider."
Slughorn beamed. "Five points to Ravenclaw for precision! And five to Slytherin for practical application!"
By the bell, their rivalry had become a spectacle—Slytherins leaning forward like spectators at a duel, Ravenclaws whispering bets. Even Slughorn's usual chatter about "networking opportunities" fell by the wayside as he watched, enthralled.
As students filed out, Mira gripped Nellie's arm. "Merlin's pants, I thought she was going to stab him with her quill."
Beth squinted. "Wait, they aren't mortal enemies now?"
Across the room, Illuna packed her satchel with deliberate calm. Snape pretended to examine his books.
Illuna sweetly exclaims"I do believe I secured the most house points."
Snape not looking up from his books "How quaint. I, however, answered the most questions correctly—the only metric that matters."
Illuna while adjusting her robe "Ah, but complexity of answers matters more than quantity. Or can your precious Slytherin ego not handle nuance?"
A beat. Then Snape's lip curled. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, "Flower"."
Illuna smiled and bit back a bit "Of course, "Sev"."
They locked eyes—glared—then both smirked before turning on their heels.
Slughorn's booming laugh chased them into the corridor. "Marvellous! Just marvellous!"
Beth blinked. "…Are they friends?"
As Illuna turned to leave, Snape's voice lashed out like a whip-crack: "Have you convinced your Hufflepuff to help us?"
Illuna's satchel strap bit into her shoulder as she stood sill. The ambient chatter of departing students suddenly felt deafening. "I was planning to in my next class," she said, too evenly. "I have Herbology with them."
Snape's eyes narrowed to black slits. In the flickering torchlight, his pallor made him look carved from cemetery marble. "Hurry," he hissed. "I've no patience for plans derailed by… sentiment."
Illuna nodded "noted Severus"
A Ravenclaw first-year bumped into Illuna, breaking the moment. When she looked back, Snape was already sweeping toward the dungeon shadows, his robes billowing like a retreating storm cloud.
Mira materialized at her elbow. "What was that about?" she murmured, her gaze tracking Snape's departure.
"just fears that are Illogical, Severus reminded me of such," Illuna lied, adjusting her book strap. The weight of her textbooks suddenly felt insignificant compared to the pressure now sitting behind her ribs.
Beth popped up on her other side. "Blimey, I thought he was going to curse you for sure! What'd you even—"
"Later," Illuna cut in, spotting Tessa's distinctive butter-yellow scarf ahead in the corridor. Her stomach clenched. Snape was right—she'd been stalling. Though she didn't know why, it shouldn't be hard to ask.
The greenhouse door creaked shut behind Illuna, sealing her into the humid embrace of Herbology. The air clung to her skin, thick with the loamy scent of soil and the tang of something citrusy—Mandrake seedlings? She blinked against the glare of sunlight filtering through the glass panes, her eyes adjusting to the jungle of greenery.
Professor Sprout bustled between worktables, her enthusiasm undimmed by the early hour. "Come along, everyone! Today we're giving your Dittany cuttings some tender love—and if you're lucky, they might not scream when you prune them!"
A few students chuckled. Illuna scanned the room, spotting Tessa near the back, her copper curls haloed by sunlight as she arranged her tools with surgical precision. Unlike the frazzled purebloods recoiling from dirt-stained trowels, Tessa looked at ease, her hands already flecked with soil.
Illuna hesitated. Just ask her. It's logical. Hufflepuffs help. But her feet rooted themselves to the floor.
A rustle of leaves. Midnight, ever her shadow, wound between her ankles, his tail flicking against her calf as if to say, Move, you idiot.
She exhaled sharply and wove through the clusters of students, her satchel bumping against her hip. When she reached Tessa's table, she set down her pots with deliberate care, the ceramic clinking against wood.
Tessa glanced up, her smile quick and bright. "Illuna! You're late. Sprout almost assigned you to de-gnome the compost heap."
"I'm two minutes late," Illuna muttered, tugging off her gloves. The lie prickled—she'd lingered in the corridor, rehearsing this conversation in her head.
Tessa's grin widened. "Two minutes in Sprout's class is like two hours anywhere else. She's got the energy of a Chomping Cabbage on a sugar rush."
Illuna's lips twitched despite herself. She busied herself with arranging her tools, lining them up parallel to the table's edge. Focus. "Tessa. How have you been?"
The question hung between them, stiff as a starched robe.
Tessa's eyebrows shot up. "Wow. You never start conversations." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "Did a Nargle steal your common sense, or are you actually about to ask me for something?"
Illuna's fingers tightened around her trowel. Merlin, is it that obvious? First Mira, now Tessa—since when had she become so transparent? She forced her grip to relax. "I… require assistance."
Tessa's smirk softened into something more curious. She nudged a pot of Dittany toward Illuna. "Alright, out with it. What's the favor?"
Across the room, Sprout demonstrated pruning techniques on a particularly vocal Dittany plant. Its wails drowned out Illuna's first attempt at speech. She tried again, quieter: "My study group needs permission to practice advanced Transfiguration outside class. McGonagall won't allow it without supervision."
Tessa's eyes flickered with understanding. "And you want Vi and me to vouch for you."
Illuna nodded. "Your sister's a prefect. Her word carries weight."
Tessa tapped her chin, leaving a smudge of soil. "True. But why us? You could've asked any Hufflepuff."
Illuna thought about, she didn't have a good reason. Convenience, maybe becouse she didn't know anyone else, maybe becouse she liked the idea. Instead, she shrugged. "You're competent."
Tessa burst out laughing, drawing a few glances. "Merlin, that's your sales pitch?" She shook her head, still grinning. "Fine. I'll talk to Vi. No promises, though—she's got a thing about rule-breaking."
Relief unspooled in Illuna's chest, so sudden it left her lightheaded. "Thank you." The words came out stiff, but Tessa didn't seem to mind.
Sprout's voice rang out: "Miss Lavender! Stop terrorizing that Dittany and show me your pruning technique!"
Tessa saluted. "Duty calls." She hesitated, then added, softer, "You should smile more, Illuna. It suits you."
Illuna stared after her, momentarily thrown. Smile? Had she—? She touched her lips. They felt oddly warm.
Midnight butted his head against her wrist, purring. Traitor, she thought, but her fingers found his ears anyway, scratching absently as she turned back to her plants. The Dittany's leaves shimmered under her touch, resilient despite the cuts.
Perhaps not so different from her after all.