Pupil-Less Husks
The next-week Tinkerers' lesson had a different energy than the first. By now, most students had settled into their workbenches, scribbled half-formed ideas in notebooks, and begun envisioning their projects. Today, it was time to present those ideas.
Professor Verren leaned against his desk, arms crossed, an expectant grin on his face. "Alright, geniuses, let’s hear what you’ve come up with. No need for full details yet—just a general pitch. If your idea is terrible, better to find out now than two months in, right?" He chuckled. "Who’s up first?"
A few students hesitated before Jayce stepped up, Viktor at his side. Their presentation was brief—they were working on a magical communication device inspired by Muggle walkie-talkies. Their goal: instant, secure voice transmission across Hogwarts without parchment or owls. Viktor explained the magical encryption while Jayce enthusiastically described the potential uses. Professor Verren nodded along, seemingly impressed. "Ambitious. I expect nothing less from you two."
Next, Powder all but bounced to the front. "Okay, so—spell storage vessels!" She spread her arms dramatically before pulling out a rough sketch. "A container that holds spells for later use. You cast a spell into it, and it stores the magic until you release it. Simple, right?"
Professor Verren arched a brow. "And how do you plan on regulating the release?"
"That’s the fun part!" Powder grinned. "I’m starting with a basic model, but I’ll have to see how different spells interact with it. Some might store fine, others might need adjustments—maybe even entirely different designs. I’ll have to experiment."
"And if a spell reacts badly to being stored?" a Viktor asked, leaning forward. "Could it explode or corrupt over time?"
Powder tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Possibly. But that’s part of the process. I’ll test different containment methods, maybe add stabilizing runes or layered enchantments. Whatever it takes."
A few students exchanged glances. It was an ambitious idea, even for Powder.
Professor Verren tilted his head, considering. "Spell containment is tricky. Overloading, deterioration, leakage—you’ll have a lot to account for. But..." He smirked. "I like it. Just don’t blow up the classroom."
"No promises," Powder chirped before bouncing back to her seat.
Ekko was up next. He casually flipped his notebook open, revealing a sleek sketch of a hoverboard. "I’m making this," he said simply, tapping the page.
Professor Verren peered at the design, then nodded thoughtfully. "A flying object? That’s been done before, but I’m curious—what makes yours different?"
Ekko smirked. "Not just flying—hovering. Unlike brooms, this won’t need direct magical input to stay airborne. It’ll use a mix of magical levitation and Muggle tech to maintain stability and maneuverability. Since it’s not entirely dependent on magic or the rider’s skill, it can reach higher speeds and stay steady even in rough conditions."
That got a few murmurs of interest.
"Wait, so anyone can use it?" a Hufflepuff student asked skeptically.
"That’s the goal," Ekko said. "It should adjust itself automatically. Brooms are great, but they rely too much on the rider’s magic and skill. This? This will be smooth."
Even Professor Verren looked intrigued. "Magic and Muggle tech combined? You’re giving yourself extra work, but if you pull it off, that’ll be impressive."
"That’s the plan," Ekko said, closing his notebook.
Vi stepped up next, she hadn’t prepared any visual aids—just crossed her arms and got straight to the point. "Magical gauntlets. Reinforced for strength, built-in impact enchantments. Simple, but effective."
"So... like enchanted brass knuckles?" someone joked.
Vi smirked. "More like, my hands can handle higher impact shit without breaking."
Another student raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't all that reinforcement and added mechanics make them too heavy? Fine motor control requires precision, but extra weight could slow you down or strain your arms."
Vi shrugged. "Nah, I’ll be using enchantments to lighten the load. Weight-reduction spells should keep them from feeling bulky, and I can adjust the balance as needed."
Professor Verren studied the design. "Enhancing physical combat, huh? Could be useful, assuming they don’t just crush your hands. You’ll need some serious spellwork to regulate force distribution."
Vi nodded. "I’ll figure it out."
"I’m sure you will." Professor Verren smirked, then glanced around the room. "Alright, anyone else?"
A few more students gave their pitches, some more confident than others. Once everyone had spoken, Professor Verren clapped his hands. "Good. Some of these ideas are ambitious, but that’s what makes this class interesting. Now, get to work—next week, I expect to see real progress. And remember—" he grinned, "try not to set anything on fire."
The room buzzed with excitement as students returned to their workbenches, the real work finally beginning.
The corridor was crowded, students weaving between each other as they made their way to their next class. Juno Silac barely had time to react before her shoulder bumped into someone.
Lucian Salo, a third-year pureblood, tall and sharply dressed, sneered down at her. His textbook slipped from his hand, landing with a soft thud against the stone floor.
"You absolute idiot," he spat, his voice carrying over the murmur of the hallway. "Do you have any idea how much this cost? Of course, you don’t. Muggle-borns wouldn’t recognize quality if it hit them in the face."
Juno froze, shrinking under the weight of the glares now turning her way. A few students slowed, their curiosity outweighing their urgency to get to class. Lucian smirked, sensing an audience.
"Honestly, it’s a wonder they even let your kind in here," he continued, stepping closer. "Clumsy, magic barely stronger than a Squib’s—must be exhausting being so far behind everyone else. Maybe you should just drop out now and save yourself the embarrassment."
Juno clenched her fists, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something that would only make things worse. Her heart pounded. No one was stepping in. No one ever did.
Then, just as Lucian took a breath to launch into another tirade, chaos erupted.
A loud pop filled the corridor, and in the blink of an eye, the bully was engulfed in a brilliant cloud of multicolored smoke. The crowd gasped as the colors swirled around him, clinging to his robes, his hair, his face—bright neon streaks turning him into a walking explosion of mismatched hues.
Before he could do more than sputter, another spell hit him.
"BaaAaAahhh!" His attempted shout turned into an uncontrollable series of high-pitched bleats. His eyes widened in horror as every word he tried to say twisted into an absurd mix of goat noises and gibberish.
The crowd erupted into laughter.
Lucian frantically wiped at his clothes, but the color only deepened, sinking into the fabric. His hands shook as he tried to cast a counterspell, but his muttered incantations dissolved into more bleating, leaving him red-faced and furious.
Somewhere unseen, Powder and Ekko exchanged a victorious fist bump.
Juno, still reeling, took a slow step back. The attention was no longer on her. No one was laughing at her anymore. Lucian, for all his arrogance, was now the center of everyone’s amusement.
She took her chance and slipped away. Later, as she sat alone at the edge of the courtyard, still processing what had happened, a shadow fell over her.
"Hey," a voice said. She looked up to see an older student—Ekko, a Ravenclaw—hands in his pockets, a soft smile on his face. "You alright?"
Juno nodded hesitantly.
Ekko’s smile widened. "Good. And, uh… if anyone gives you trouble again—" he tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially "—you never know who might be watching."
Then, with a wink, he was gone, vanishing into the throng of students like he’d never been there at all.
The Charms classroom buzzed with quiet concentration as students practiced their wand movements. Incantations filled the air, blending into a steady hum of learning. The glow of light charms flickered over rows of desks, creating a soft, shifting radiance across the stone walls. At the far end of the room, however, a different kind of energy crackled.
Powder and Ekko had claimed their usual workstation—a table that had, over the years, suffered an impressive number of scorch marks, warped wood, and the occasional burst of unintended transfiguration. Their reputation preceded them.
The assignment was simple: practice modifying the Lumos charm. Most students were experimenting with brightness or color shifts, adding minor adjustments to their spells. Powder and Ekko, however, were hunched over a shared notebook, muttering under their breath as they scribbled down different methods, refining incantations before settling on a version to try. Their approach was anything but conventional.
“Alright,” Powder muttered, flicking her wand with a sharp twist. The tip glowed, then sputtered, then—
BOOM!
A small but striking explosion of blue sparks shot into the air, the vivid glow lingering for a heartbeat longer than expected. The light flickered, casting a ghostly shimmer against the ceiling before slowly fading. A few students yelped, startled by the eerie beauty of it. Powder just grinned, her fingers tightening around her wand, watching the last remnants of blue dissolve into the air like dying embers.
Ekko, unfazed, jotted something down in his notes. “Alright, so overloading the light concentration past a certain point causes combustion. Noted.”
Professor Flitwick cleared his throat, stepping toward them. “Miss Powder and Master Ekko, while I always appreciate enthusiasm, I’d rather not have my classroom burned down.”
Ekko offered a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Professor." Powder, on the other hand, just looked delighted, rocking back on her heels as if already planning her next attempt.
Flitwick sighed, though there was amusement behind it. “Perhaps a different approach?”
Ekko tapped his quill against his chin, eyes flickering with curiosity. “What if we use a layering effect? Stack multiple Lumos charms over each other and control the diffusion?”
Flitwick blinked. “That’s… quite advanced for your level.”
Powder traced the air with her wand, lips moving as she and Ekko muttered variations of the incantation under their breath. The first few attempts resulted in little more than flickering sparks or weak glows, but with each adjustment, the effect grew stronger. Ekko settled on a refined flick of his wrist, sending a single orb of light drifting lazily in the air. It shimmered with a soft pulse, suspended mid-air with eerie precision. The class murmured in appreciation as it hung there, glowing faintly. Powder leaned in, watching intently.
“Now that,” she said with a smirk, “is genius.”
Not to be outdone, she adjusted her stance and flicked her wand with a more exaggerated twist. This time, the light refracted outward into multiple floating orbs, pulsing at different frequencies. The class stared, mesmerized. Even Flitwick looked impressed.
Powder flicked her wand again, and the orbs shot forward like tiny fireworks, bouncing harmlessly off desks. Well, mostly harmlessly. One ricocheted into another student's stack of parchment, setting the edges smoldering. The student yelped and scrambled to pat it out, shooting them an exasperated glare.
Flitwick rubbed his temples. “While I commend the creativity… perhaps we focus on controlled applications?”
Ekko, still watching the floating lights with satisfaction. “Controlled is relative,” he murmured.
Powder grinned. “Exactly! If we stabilize the energy output while maintaining the projection speed, we could make actual guided lights! Like—like magical signal flares, but prettier.”
Ekko's eyes lit up at the thought. “Or coded signals! Different colors, different intervals… Could be useful.”
Flitwick, recognizing the spiraling excitement, held up a hand. “That is an interesting idea. But for now, perhaps limit your experiments to non-combustible modifications?”
Flitwick tapped his chin thoughtfully. "You might try incorporating a controlled containment charm to stabilize the energy before release. Or perhaps an anchoring rune to disperse excess magic safely."
The duo gave it a shot. Powder adjusted the angle of her wand while Ekko modified the incantation slightly, both of them murmuring under their breath as they worked.
The first attempt resulted in a flickering, unstable glow before it fizzled out. The second attempt shot out an uncontrolled burst of light that left one of Ekko’s dreadlocks singed at the tip.
Powder stifled a laugh while Ekko groaned, brushing at the smoking strand. "Alright, maybe a little less power," he muttered.
After another adjustment, they finally managed to produce a stable, glowing orb that hovered between them, shifting in hue as it pulsed gently. They exchanged triumphant grins before testing its mobility, passing it back and forth like an otherworldly game of tennis. The rest of the class watched, half-impressed, half-expecting another explosion.
The Transfiguration classroom was silent but for the occasional flick of a wand and the soft murmur of incantations. Professor Aldric Thorne’s sharp gaze swept across the room, ensuring that every student was fully engaged in their work. This was NEWT-level Transfiguration—there was no room for hesitation.
At the front of the class, a line of wooden statues stood, each waiting to be transfigured into moving creatures. Today’s task: turning an inanimate object into a functional small mammal. It was a significant leap from their OWL work, demanding not just precision in spellwork, but a deeper understanding of biological structures and magical reinforcement.
Mel flicked her wand with practiced ease. The wooden cat on her desk rippled and shifted, limbs reforming, fur sprouting from the grain of the wood like ivy curling through cracks in stone. In seconds, a feline form stretched its legs, blinking golden eyes, though its movements were slightly too smooth, its gaze unfocused. Professor Thorne gave a curt nod of approval. “Excellent, Miss Medarda.”
Viktor was methodical, as always. He muttered under his breath, carefully adjusting his wand movements. His statue had already taken shape, though the transfiguration remained incomplete—its fur lacked the proper sheen, and its breathing was unnatural, too rhythmic to be real. Still, it was progress.
Jayce, on the other hand, was struggling. Despite earning an Outstanding in his OWLs, the class had jumped to an entirely different level. He gritted his teeth, rolling his shoulders back as he tried again. “Vitae Mutatio.” His wand movement was sharp, deliberate, but the result was underwhelming. The wooden cat shuddered violently before freezing in place, its form twisted—half fur, half wood, like a grotesque sculpture caught mid-transformation. Its stiff limbs twitched mechanically before locking up entirely.
He exhaled sharply, gripping his wand tighter. Mel, arms folded, tilted her head. “You’re overthinking it.”
Jayce shot her a look. “That’s easy for you to say. Yours looks like it walked straight out of a pureblood estate.”
Mel merely smirked, unbothered. “Because I trust the magic to follow through.”
Jayce resisted the urge to groan. Trust the magic. As if that was the missing ingredient. He glanced at Viktor, who was making small adjustments, muttering observations under his breath. “You’re stabilizing it before you fully commit, aren’t you?”
Viktor nodded. “The magic resists if you push too fast. It’s about shaping the transition, not forcing it.”
Jayce huffed and turned back to his half-formed creature. His mind was racing, the theory of it all slipping through his fingers like sand. He had always been good at this—why was it so much harder now? He took another breath, steadying himself. Professor Aldric Thorne was watching. He could feel it.
“Again, Talis.” His voice, firm but patient, cut through the fog of his frustration.
Gritting his teeth, he tried again, this time adjusting his approach. Slower. More controlled. The magic swirled, resisted—then, for a moment, it gave. The wooden texture melted away, revealing fur, a twitching tail, soft ears that flicked to life. The cat-like form moved, but its motions were too smooth, too rehearsed—like a puppet animated by an unseen force.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress. The creature blinked, its form stable, though its eyes remained dull and unfocused. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
Professor Aldric Thorne’s lips pressed into a thin line, not quite approval, but something close. “Better.”
Jayce nodded, sweat dampening the back of his neck. This was going to be a long year.
Mel leaned in slightly, voice low with amusement. “You looked like you were about to pop a blood vessel.”
Jayce shot her a glare. “I was concentrating.”
Viktor smirked. “And yet, still no pupils in the eyes. Perhaps next time, aim for something a little less haunting.”
Jayce groaned, rubbing his temples. “You both are a real inspiration, truly.”
Mel chuckled, stretching lazily. “We try.”
Jayce frowned at the cat-like figure on his desk, its movements eerily smooth yet lacking true life. He turned to the others. “Don’t you think it’s a little unsettling how lifelike these things are? Surely we can’t create life from nothing.”
Mel shrugged, poking her own transfigured creature, which twitched in response. “It’s just magic mimicking life. A very convincing illusion.”
Viktor tapped his chin, thoughtful. “The spell only animates what’s already there. No thoughts, no instincts—just motion.”
Jayce wasn’t entirely convinced, watching as his creation blinked, empty and glassy-eyed. “Still feels like we’re playing god.”
Mel diverted the conversation, a mischievous glint in her eye. "The others haven’t come across this spell yet. Don’t you think it could be fun to freak them out with something like this? Imagine waking up to pupil-less creatures circling your bed."
Jayce groaned. "That’s sadistic."
"That’s hilarious," Mel corrected. "Picture it—no pupils, eerie little movements, and just enough awareness to follow someone around the room."
Viktor chuckled, adjusting his transfigured cat so it twitched unnervingly. "We could make them tilt their heads in unison, like they’re listening to something only they can hear."
Jayce shook his head, but even he couldn’t suppress a smirk. "You two are actually the worst."
Mel grinned. "We prefer ‘visionaries.’"
Jayce sighed, rubbing his temples. "Okay, but who would be the target?" His eyes flicked between Mel and Viktor, wary of their growing enthusiasm.
Mel tapped her chin, feigning deep thought. "Someone jumpy."
"Preferably someone who screams," Viktor added, smirking.
Jayce scoffed. "Probably not Powder, she’d try to keep one as a pet."
Mel snorted. "Absolutely. She’d have them doing synchronized dances by breakfast."
Viktor tilted his head. "What about Caitlyn ? She's got nerves of steel, but even she might twitch if one of these things started whispering."
Jayce chuckled. "You two are taking this way too seriously."
Mel grinned, nudging her transfigured creature so it turned its head unnervingly slow. "Or just seriously enough. And I think I know the perfect target."
Jayce arched a brow. "Oh no."
Mel’s smirk widened. "Vi."
Viktor chuckled. "She would punch one of these things straight through a wall."
"Exactly," Mel said, eyes twinkling. "Just imagine it. She wakes up, half-asleep, and sees them moving—silent, watching, waiting. She’d lose her mind."
Jayce sighed. "You two are going to get us hexed."
"That’s why you’re involved," Mel said brightly. "You can talk her down while Viktor and I make our escape."
Viktor gave a small, amused shrug. "A solid plan."
Jayce paled. "Wait—are we actually doing this? I thought we were joking."
The sound of Professor Thorne’s voice, crisp and clear, interrupted the conversation. “That’s all for today. We’ll continue next week. Please make sure to review the theory behind Transfiguring biological structures before the next lesson. I expect results.”
The class erupted into a flurry of motion as students began packing up, some eager to leave, others still tinkering with their unfinished transfigurations. Jayce let out a long sigh, wiping the sweat from his brow as he carefully tucked his wand away. Mel, Viktor, and he made their way out of the classroom, their footsteps echoing in the empty hallways.
Mel grinned, clearly pleased with herself. "So...are we really doing it?" she asked, her voice full of mischief.
Jayce shot her a wary glance, though he couldn’t quite suppress the amused half-smile tugging at his lips. "I swear, you two are going to be the death of me."
Viktor chuckled, shaking his head. "It’s not like we’re causing actual harm. Just a bit of harmless fun."
Jayce snorted. "Famous last words. We’ll be hexed before sundown."
“Relax, Talis,” Mel said, her smirk widening. “Vi has a good sense of humor. We just have to make sure she’s tired enough not to—"
"Kill one of us?" Jayce finished, raising an eyebrow.
"Exactly," Mel said, unbothered. "We’re all in this together. Plus, she’s the best target. If anyone can handle it, it’s her."
Jayce shook his head, exasperated. "And I’m supposed to talk her down? You’ve both lost your minds."
Viktor raised an eyebrow. "You’re our voice of reason. Or, well, the closest thing we have."
Mel snickered. "Plus, we can always blame you if it goes wrong."
Jayce groaned. "You two are terrible."
But even as he complained, a part of him was starting to look forward to the prank. The image of Vi’s reaction—half-asleep, annoyed, and probably too tired to really go for the jugular—was too good to pass up.
They turned the corner, heading for their next class, and though Jayce still wasn’t entirely convinced about the whole plan, he couldn’t help but wonder just how far Mel and Viktor would go. And whether or not he’d end up regretting it.
Vi and Powder strolled onto the open field where the rest of the group had gathered, the afternoon sun spilling warmth across the grass. Their playful bickering mixed with the laughter of their friends.
"You know," Powder began, a sly grin creeping onto her face, "I saw you talking to Sarah earlier. Flirting, were we?"
Vi blinked, caught off guard. "What? No, I wasn’t flirting with her! We were just talking."
Powder arched a knowing brow, her grin widening. "Oh really? 'Cause I saw the way she was squeezing your arm. And the way you were looking at her—like you were ready to pounce."
Vi huffed. "Powder, stop."
Powder, ignoring her, dramatically placed a hand on her hip and fluttered her eyelashes, slipping into an exaggerated impression of Sarah. "Oh, Vi," she cooed, clasping her hands together. "You’re just so strong , it’s hard to resist."
Vi’s face burned red. "Powder!"
But Powder wasn’t done. She flexed her arms in mock admiration, grinning. "How do you even do it? You’re like a whole workout routine wrapped in one gorgeous package."
Vi’s face turned a deeper shade of red. "I swear, Powder, I’m going to—"
By now, they had reached the group. Powder turned with a mischievous glint in her eye, ready to share the moment with everyone. "Guess what I just saw? Vi’s out here flir-"
Vi lunged forward, her hand reaching for her sister, desperate to stop her from saying anything more, but Powder was quick. With a cackle, she dodged out of the way, sprinting away across the field, laughing as she looked over her shoulder at the flustered Vi hot on her tail. The two of them ran circles around the group.
Unfazed by the chaos, Mel set a small enchanted chessboard between herself and Viktor, tapping it lightly with her wand. The pieces sprang to life, eager for battle.
"Speed round?" she asked, already moving her first piece.
Viktor smirked. "If you think you can keep up."
The game began instantly. Viktor opened with a classic Ruy-Lopez, his knight gliding forward. Mel countered aggressively, her strategy sharp and efficient.
The animated pieces clashed with dramatic flair—Mel’s pawn barely dodged a swing from Viktor’s knight before launching itself at an enemy bishop. The bishop let out a tiny wail before collapsing into a heap and vanishing.
Viktor barely glanced at the board before moving. "You’re playing faster than usual. Worried?"
Mel scoffed. "Please. I just don’t intend to waste my lunch watching you think."
Her queen slid across the board in a bold maneuver, capturing his rook. Viktor hummed, fingers hovering over his knight before changing his mind and sending his bishop sweeping across instead.
Mel narrowed her eyes. "You hesitated."
"Did I?"
"You did."
She countered instantly, cutting off his planned strategy before he could adjust.
Viktor exhaled through his nose, amused. "So impatient."
A few feet away, Ekko, Mylo, and Claggor were in the middle of a fast-paced game of frisbee. The disc zipped between them, cutting through the air with effortless speed.
Claggor, throwing a little too hard, sent it soaring. Mylo had to leap to catch it, nearly stumbling. "You trying to send me to the hospital, or what?"
Ekko caught the next throw with one hand, spinning it on his finger. "Still can’t believe the pure-bloods thought this thing was enchanted."
Mylo snorted. "Jayce was staring at it like he expected it to start talking."
Claggor laughed. "Mel actually asked me what kind of charm keeps it from just falling straight down."
Ekko smirked, tossing the frisbee back. "Magic’s great and all, but sometimes Muggle stuff just makes more sense."
Claggor caught it smoothly this time. "Yeah, but don’t tell them that. Might shatter their entire worldview."
Meanwhile, Vi finally caught up to Powder, tackling her to the ground. The two of them tumbled through the grass in a mess of tangled limbs and laughter.
"Got you now, you little—" Vi grinned, pinning Powder’s wrists down. Powder squirmed beneath her, breathless but smug.
"Alright, alright! You win!" Powder gasped between giggles. "You're the superior—"
Smack.
A rogue frisbee struck Vi square in the nose.
Silence. Vi blinked in stunned disbelief.
Then, with a groan, she flopped sideways off Powder, hands flying to her face.
Powder exploded into laughter, curling up on the ground, kicking her feet. "Oh my god, that was perfect! I—I couldn't have planned that better myself!"
Across the field, Claggor called out. "Uh—our bad!"
Ekko, still mid-throwing stance, winced. "You good, Vi?"
Vi groaned again, sitting up slowly. "I hate all of you."
Caitlyn had been staring for a little too long.
She couldn't help it. Vi was sitting in the grass, breathless, red-faced, her hair a mess. There was a slight sheen of sweat on her skin, her shirt sticking to her back in a way that made Caitlyn’s thoughts drift somewhere entirely unhelpful.
Something about the way Vi looked right now—flushed, panting, still grumbling about the frisbee—was doing things to her.
"Cait," Jayce’s voice cut through her thoughts. She barely flinched, quickly schooling her expression.
"What?" she said, far too casual.
Jayce, looking far too smug, leaned in. "You're staring."
Caitlyn scoffed. "I am not."
"You totally are." Jayce nudged her shoulder. "She’s all sweaty, a little out of breath—"
"Jayce."
"—probably still buzzing from the adrenaline—"
"Jayce, shut up."
His grin widened. "I knew it!"
Caitlyn groaned, tipping her head back dramatically. "I hate you."
Jayce clutched his chest. "Ouch. That’s not very loving, Sprout."
She rolled her eyes, but the warmth creeping up her neck betrayed her. Of course, Jayce noticed.
"You know, you could just talk to her," he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Or," Caitlyn shot back, "I could shove you into the lake and never look back."
Jayce threw an arm around her shoulder, laughing. "Nah, you’d miss me too much."
Mel smirked, fingers tapping against her knee as she studied the chessboard. The pieces twitched, awaiting their fate. The match had lasted only minutes, but the battlefield was littered—pawns scattered, knights fallen, Viktor down a rook, Mel missing a bishop.
Viktor finally sat back, feigning boredom. "Check."
Mel didn’t blink. She moved her queen forward. "Checkmate."
Viktor frowned, leaning in slightly. Sure enough, her queen was positioned perfectly, trapping his king with no escape.
Mel grinned, resting her chin in her palm. "Looks like I win."
Viktor stared at the board for another second before exhaling through his nose. "I let you win."
"Sure you did," Mel said, already resetting the pieces.
The Gryffindor common room flickered with the warm glow of the fireplace, casting long shadows across the plush red-and-gold furnishings. It was late, and most of the younger students had retreated to their dorms, leaving only a handful of upper-years scattered around.
Jayce and Viktor were stationed near the hearth, keeping Vi engaged in conversation while Mel slipped upstairs. Jayce had chosen a topic guaranteed to hold Vi’s attention—Quidditch. “I’m just saying, you can’t rely solely on brute force,” he argued, smirking. “Strategy wins matches.”
Vi scoffed, arms crossed as she leaned back in her chair. “Oh, please. You can strategize all you want, but at the end of the day, if you don’t have the reflexes to back it up, you’re eating dirt.”
Viktor, who had no strong opinions on the sport, was content to play mediator. “Surely a balance of both is required,” he mused. “After all, a well-placed Bludger could render any strategy useless.”
Vi grinned. “Exactly! See? Viktor gets it.”
Jayce rolled his eyes. “Oh, so now you’re an expert?”
As the friendly debate continued, Mel crept up to the girls’ dormitory, moving quickly but silently. Vi’s bed was easy to spot—one of the messiest in the room, covers rumpled as if she had only half-heartedly made an attempt to fix them that morning. Carefully, Mel lifted the edge of the blanket and slipped the small wooden figurines underneath, tucking them just out of immediate sight. They weren’t transfigured yet—just plain wooden cats for now. That part would come later, once Vi was asleep.
Satisfied, she eased the blankets back into place and padded out of the room, shutting the door as quietly as she had opened it. Descending the stairs, she spotted Gert, a fifth-year, lounged on one of the couches. Mel grinned, strolling over. “Hey, Gert. You want to see something hilarious?”
Gert barely glanced up from her book. “Depends. Does it require effort?”
Mel smirked and pulled a small, slightly battered camera from her pocket. “Minimal. Powder rigged this last year so it works in Hogwarts.” Mel quickly clues Gert into the prank, catching her interest.
She closed her book with a soft thud and tilted her head. “Oh? A Vi prank? I’m in.”
Mel patted her shoulder. “Knew I could count on you.”
She sauntered back toward Jayce and Viktor, who were still deeply engrossed in their argument with Vi.
Viktor shot Mel a questioning look, but she only smirked in response. Then, stretching her arms with a feigned yawn, she announced, "I'm exhausted. Time to call it a night."
"Indeed," Viktor agreed smoothly, following her lead. The two departed together, heading for the Slytherin dorms leaving the Gryffindor common room humming with its usual late-night energy.
“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!”
THUD