┏ ೋღ : 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂. ೋღ ┓

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗:
𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔡𝔰

┗━━━ ೋღ : ©-fictophilic : ೋღ ━━━━┛

𝕿HE QUIDDITCH PITCH FELT ODDLY SILENT. Usually, this time of year would be filled with the whistle of the wind as broomsticks soared through the air, the chanting of house teams from the stands, and the roar of excitement or groan of disappointment from a goal or near miss. But now, with the Triwizard Tournament shining over the usual Quidditch season, the field stood empty — untouched, except for the scattered autumn leaves drifting across the grass.

Despite this absence of its usual purpose, you and your friends had claimed the pitch for yourselves, setting up a picnic in the center of the field. A large blanket was laid across the grass, covered in an assortment of food items, ranging from Honeydukes sweets to homemade sandwiches that someone had been wise enough to bring.

Kyra was sprawled out on her back beside you, chewing absentmindedly on a piece of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, staring up at the sky as if she were contemplating something profound. Beside her, Alana sat cross-legged, attempting to open a bottle of pumpkin juice. Their arms kept brushing, neither acknowledging it, but neither pulling away.

Sitting across from them, Isaac smirked as he took a sip from his own drink. "You know," he mused, "if I have to go an entire year without getting hit in the head by a bludger, I might actually forget what it feels like."

"Tragic," Lewis deadpanned, picking at a Cauldron Cake. "A year without head injuries. However will you cope?"

"I'm just saying," Isaac continued, gesturing around. "This whole no Quidditch thing? It's unnatural."

Leaning back on their elbows, Jamie nodded. "Feels wrong, yeah. The only reason I tolerate Hogwarts' winters is because of Quidditch. Now, we're just supposed to... what? Watch people nearly die in the Triwizard Tournament instead?"

Rhys popped a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean into his mouth, his face immediately contorting in disgust. "Ugh. Soap," he muttered before shaking his head. "Anyway, yeah, I get what you mean. But personally? I'm enjoying the fact that, for the first time since first year, I don't have to worry about dodging a stray bludger every time I step onto the Quidditch stand."

Kyra scoffed. "Coward."

"No, no, he's right," Indie agreed. "The amount of times I've had to dodge one of the Weasley's hitting a bludger towards the stands is insane."

You laughed at Indie's comment and agreed, "Yeah, the twins get a little carried away sometimes."

Movement in the distance caught everyone's attention. Fleur and Violaine were making their way towards the group, their Beauxbatons uniforms flowing slightly in the autumn breeze.

Even from a distance, Fleur's presence was magnetic. Heads turned as she passed, whispers trailing in her wake. A few younger students all but stopped in their tracks, eyes wide, as if momentarily spellbound by the part-Veela witch.

Walking just beside her, Violaine wore a neutral expression, but there was something unreadable in her eyes as she caught the lingering stares. She didn't say anything about it, but there was the faintest tension in her shoulders, and her fingers clenched briefly at the fabric of her robes before she smoothed them out. As the two of them approached, she simply lifted her chin slightly. "You all started without us," Violaine remarked as she stepped onto the blanket, arching a brow.

"Your fault for taking forever," Kyra teased, smirking as she sat up properly.

"Fleur took forever," Violaine corrected, giving the blonde a pointed look.

Fleur merely smiled, unbothered. "You cannot rush perfection," she replied airily, sitting down beside Violaine's feet.

Violaine chuckled and rolled her eyes but didn't argue. Instead, she dropped gracefully onto the blanket beside Fleur, reaching for a Chocolate Frog without hesitation.

As the conversation picked up again, Isaac leaned back on his hands, glancing at Indie. "So, Indie, how's it been, seeing Nott around after last year?" His tone was casual, but there was an unmistakable glint of curiosity in his eyes.

Nibbling on a Licorice Wand, Indie paused for only a second before exhaling through her nose. "It's... fine?" She muttered, though the way she avoided Isaac's gaze told a different story.

"Woah, I thought you were over him," Kyra chimed in, her ears perking up at the conversation. "All that stuff you said about how he doesn't deserve you and wasted your time?"

She twirled the candy between her fingers before answering, "I know I'm better off without him, but—" She hesitated, pressing her lips together before sighing. "It's not like I can just flip a switch and stop caring. I really did like him, you know? But the more I say it, the more I'll believe it, right?"

You felt strangely... different from her. For you, it was easy to turn something off. After all, it was a measly little crush, but perhaps it was because yours were only merely surface-level while she had genuine feelings. You knew what it was like to remind yourself that you were better off, that it was over, that you really had no chance — and that somehow worked for you.

But maybe it was because Indie was right. Maybe you were just saying it to yourself enough times that you believed it.

Nodding slowly, Isaac didn't press any further.

Indie exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Not that it matters anymore. I think he's seeing someone else now."

That caught your attention. Your fingers stilled against the fabric of the blanket, but you kept your expression neutral, unwilling to give anything away.

Subtly, Violaine glanced over at you, knowing your feelings for the boy. On the other hand, Kyra and Indie either knew you well enough or were perceptive enough to notice the subtle change in your expression.

Rhys, who had been occupied with stealing bits of food from Jamie's plate, perked up immediately. "Who?"

Indie gave him a look, unimpressed by his nosiness, but answered anyway with a shrug. "I saw him the other day with some Beauxbatons girl. They were talking and standing awfully close in the corridor."

There was a ripple of interest around the group, some exchanging glances, others merely listening. Violaine, Kyra, and Indie gauged your reaction, though you gave nothing away except for the slight furrow in your brow. You didn't say anything, just absorbed the words, your mind whirring. You weren't sure why it mattered or why it left an odd feeling in your stomach, but you couldn't quite shake it.

The late morning sunlight filtered through the large, foggy glass panels of the greenhouse, illuminating floating dust particles in the humid air. The scent of damp soil and freshly upturned earth lingered, accompanied by the occasional waft of something sweeter — probably from the bushes in the corner. Professor Sprout stood at the front, beaming with her usual enthusiasm as she addressed the class.

"Today, you'll be working with Flitterbloom plants," she announced, gesturing toward the rows of leafy green plants on the workbenches, their vines twitching subtly even without a breeze. "Now, don't be fooled by their resemblance to Devil's Snare. Flitterbloom is much friendlier, but it does tend to cling, so be mindful when repotting." Professor Sprout clapped her hands together, her voice warm yet firm. "Pair up and get to work!"

Several students hesitated, eyeing the plants with wary expressions. A few whispered among themselves, some already regretting not partnering with someone more experienced.

As expected, you and Neville naturally gravitated toward each other. Neville sent you a small, shy smile and shifted his gloves in his hands. "Looks like it's us again."

You grinned, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "I'd be worried if it wasn't."

A faint flush dusted his cheeks as he turned his attention to your shared plant. Setting down his gloves, he reached for a nearby shovel. The moment his fingers brushed the rim of the pot, the Flitterbloom tendrils twitched and then sprang forward, curling around his wrist slowly.

Neville sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "Yep. Knew that would happen."

Biting back a laugh, you leaned in to help him untangle the vines. The Flitterbloom resisted at first, its tendrils reluctant to let go. "It does like you, though," you teased, carefully unwinding a stubborn vine from his sleeve.

"Yeah, well," Neville muttered, attempting to shake off another tendril wrapping around his fingers. "I'd rather it didn't."

You couldn't help but chuckle at the resigned look on his face, even as the plant's tendrils playfully twitched, almost as if it was disagreeing with him.

As the two of you settled into your work, carefully loosening the plant from its old pot, your attention flickered toward the station across from you. Kyra and Alana had been paired together, and — as always — the air around them was charged with something unspoken.

Kyra stood with her arms crossed, her signature grin in place, while Alana scowled at the stubborn plant before them. The vines twitched in anticipation, coiling around Alana's gloved fingers as she struggled to keep them under control.

"Are you going to help me, or just stand there?" Alana muttered, her voice tight with irritation as she yanked a vine away from her sleeve.

Kyra let out a low chuckle, the sound effortless, like she was enjoying the show. But with one glance at Alana's murderous expression, she finally moved to help.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. They were hopeless.

Leaning slightly toward Neville, you lowered your voice. "Watch this."

Neville's curious gaze flickered toward you as you turned toward the bickering pair, schooling your expression into one of innocent helpfulness. "Kyra, Alana," you called sweetly. "I think your plant might be too dry. You should water it before it gets clingier."

Kyra raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," you lied smoothly.

Alana huffed, grabbing the watering can and tilting it over the soil. The moment the first few drops sank in, the Flitterbloom sprang to life. Vines shot forward like coiled springs, wrapping around Kyra's wrist and yanking her off balance. She stumbled, barely managing to catch herself — just inches away from Alana.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

The greenhouse noise faded into the background as Kyra's grin softened at the edges, the usual playfulness in her expression taking on something quieter, more deliberate. The glint in her eyes was unmistakable. "Well," Kyra murmured, voice low and teasing. "If you wanted me closer, you could've just asked."

Alana swallowed, her usual sharp wit faltering for once. "I didn't—"

You turned away, biting down on a victorious smile.

Neville had been watching the entire scene unfold with quiet astonishment. When you finally met his gaze, he was already staring at you, an unreadable expression in his green eyes.

"You did that on purpose," he whispered.

You shrugged, feigning innocence. "Did I?"

Neville exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. Most people thought you were just book-smart, a quiet observer. But this? The way you subtly nudged people in the right direction, the way you orchestrated moments just to make your friends happy — it was different. And he liked it.

His stomach flipped at the thought, and warmth crept onto his face. Quickly, he turned back to your Flitterbloom, suddenly very focused on its vines — because if he kept looking at you, he was sure his face would betray him.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long golden streaks through the canopy of trees. The autumn air was crisp but not biting, the scent of leaves and soil surrounding you as you trailed behind Luna deeper into the Forbidden Forest — though not too deep. You were still close enough to see the castle if you turned back, but far enough that the rest of the world felt distant.

Luna was ahead of you, humming softly to herself, a dreamy look on her face as she moved gracefully through the uneven terrain. Her pale fingers skimmed the tops of bushes and tree trunks, as if she were greeting them.

Then, she stopped. You nearly ran into her back, catching yourself just in time.

Luna's wide, silvery eyes were focused ahead, her lips curling into the smallest of smiles. She tilted her head, as if listening to something beyond your reach. You followed her gaze to a clearing, where her expression softened.

"They're here," she mentioned simply.

Your brows furrowed. "Who—?"

Luna stepped into the clearing, kneeling on the soft earth with the kind of gentleness reserved for something fragile. Her hands reached forward, fingers curling around nothing. And yet, she giggled softly, stroking the air with smooth, fluid motions.

You realized immediately.

She was petting the Thestrals.

You shifted uncomfortably, scanning the empty space where you knew they must be standing. It was a strange, isolating feeling. You knew they were there, but you couldn't see them and couldn't touch them.

Luna's fingers moved through the empty air with gentle ease, as if she had done this a hundred times before. Though you saw nothing, you could tell from the soft way her hand curved, from the warmth in her expression, that one of the invisible creatures had nestled into her palm.

"They like you, you know," she mused, her voice light as the wind, tilting her head toward you.

You huffed lightly, crossing your arms. "I wouldn't know. I can't see them."

Luna turned her dreamy gaze toward you, her misty-blue eyes filled with something unreadable. "Yet."

A frown tugged at your lips. "That's... kind of ominous, Luna."

She only shrugged, as if it wasn't. "I suppose, but not everything we can't see isn't real, you know. I think dreams work the same way."

You tilted your head, her words settling into the spaces between thoughts. "How do you mean?"

Luna's fingers still moved along the invisible Thestral's side, absentmindedly brushing against its silky mane. "I think dreams are glimpses into other realities," she told you softly. "Not just our imaginations, but real places, real versions of ourselves in different worlds. Maybe even places we've been before but can't remember."

You considered that for a moment, digging your shoe into the soft earth. "So you think, if I have a dream where I'm somewhere I've never been... that version of me has been there?"

Luna didn't answer right away. She tilted her head slightly, as though listening to something only she could hear. Then, she nodded, slow and thoughtful. "Perhaps. Or maybe it's a version of you from another world, trying to show you something."

That sent a shiver down your spine. You had never thought of dreams like that before. But maybe there was something to it. Then, with a slight shrug, you mentioned, "I actually have this one dream. It's not exactly the same every time, but it keeps coming back."

Luna's interest was piqued and she straightened slightly. "Tell me."

Seeing the interest on her face, you smiled and sighed. "It always starts the same way. I'm standing in the middle of a giant library, but it's endless. Like, no matter how far I walk, the bookshelves just keep going. The weirdest part is that all the books are blank. No titles, no words inside them. Just empty pages."

Luna hummed, listening carefully.

You continued, rubbing your arms. "But then, at some point, I feel like there's something I'm supposed to find. And just when I think I'm close to finding it, everything starts collapsing. The shelves tip over, the books disintegrate into dust, and I just wake up before I ever find out what it is."

The forest stretched out around you, the air thick with the scent of moss and earth. The sky above had begun to shift into deeper shades. Luna stood, bathed in the dim glow, her pale hair catching the fading light like strands of silver thread. She tilted her head, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. "How curious," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the trees themselves were listening.

You gave her a look. "That's all you have to say?"

Luna's gaze drifted upward for a moment, as though searching for something unseen among the shifting canopy. Then, she shook her head. "No, I was just thinking... Maybe that library is real. Maybe it exists somewhere, and your mind is trying to reach it, but you're not ready to read the books yet."

"Why not?" You asked with a slight frown.

"Maybe you're not meant to yet," she answered simply. Luna turned to you, her misty-blue eyes carrying a quiet certainty. "Or maybe you're afraid of what they'll say."

Your fingers curled slightly at your sides. You didn't like the idea that you were scared of knowing something — something important, something buried deep. The thought sent an unsettling weight into your chest, like a door creaking open somewhere in the back of your mind.

As always, Luna seemed to sense your thoughts without you saying them. Luna watched you closely, not with judgment, but with understanding. She stood up, brushing the dirt from her knees slowly. The trees rustled around you, stirred by an unseen breeze, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as though the forest itself was waiting for your response.

"It's alright, you know," she told you, her voice softer now. "Sometimes we don't have all the answers right away, but they find us when we're ready."

You exhaled slowly, turning your gaze toward the empty space beside her, where the Thestrals stood,