Shadows in Hogsmeade
The winter holidays had flown by in a blur of snow and quiet adventures. But as January dawned, Hogwarts returned to its usual bustling energy, the castle halls once again filled with the chatter of students.
Astoria stood at the entrance of the castle, watching as familiar faces began to filter back in through the grand doors. The moment she spotted Natty, Poppy, and Garreth, a smile broke across her face. She pushed past the lingering crowd and hurried toward them, her emerald-trimmed cloak swaying behind her.
"You're back!" she exclaimed, pulling Natty into a quick embrace before moving on to Poppy and Garreth. "How were your holidays?"
Before they could answer, Natty's sharp eyes flickered behind Astoria, where Sebastian loomed just a step behind her, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his coat. Natty's brow arched slightly.
Sebastian, ever the picture of confidence, merely smirked. "Glad to see you all made it back in one piece."
"Of course! We wouldn't miss another term of reckless experiments and detentions, now would we?" Garreth threw an arm around Astoria's shoulders.
Astoria laughs, brushing him off as they made plans to catch up over butterbeer in Hogsmeade later that evening.
The Three Broomsticks was packed with returning students seeking warmth from the winter chill. Candles flickered overhead, and the scent of spiced mead and roasted chestnuts filled the air. The group settled into their usual spot near the window, mugs of butterbeer steaming in front of them.
Garreth was the first to dive into holiday stories, leaning forward eagerly. "You wouldn't believe the absolute chaos that was my house this Christmas. My mother made her famous roast—"
"Ah, the legendary Weasley feast," Natty interjected, smirking.
"Exactly. Everything was going well until I—er—may have tried a little experiment on the stuffing." Garreth hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let's just say it, uh, turned the turkey blue, the chimney nearly exploded, and my poor uncle now refuses to eat anything I touch."
Astoria chuckled, shaking her head. "That sounds about right. I hope your mother didn't disown you."
"She's finally getting used to it," Garreth sighed dramatically.
Natty took a sip of her butterbeer before sharing her own story. "I went home to Matabeleland. It was warm, unlike this dreadful cold. The Matobo Hills were beautiful, as always. I could run free, transform into a gazelle and just... breathe again." Her voice grew wistful. "I miss it already. There's a sort of freedom there that Hogwarts just doesn't have."
Poppy smiled before chiming in. "I spent the entire holiday with my Nan. We visited some of the sanctuaries, took care of the baby Mooncalves, and even had a small Yule gathering with the villagers. It was lovely. Nothing too exciting, but exactly what I needed."
Astoria listened intently. When it was her turn, she shared their winter adventures—exploring the ruins, uncovering a Merlin Trial, the White Hippogriff gift exchange, and of course, the extravagant Christmas feast.
She carefully omitted the Wishing Tree. Sebastian met her gaze, his expression unreadable.
The memory was theirs alone.
Natty narrows her eyes, something was up between them—the way Astoria and Sebastian sat just a little too close, how his arm rested on the back of her chair, fingers idly toying with a loose thread on her cloak.
She mused "You two seem... different."
Astoria blinked. "Different how?"
Natty chuckled. "Just closer."
Poppy, ever innocent and oblivious about these things, waved her off. "They've always been like that. Practically attached at the hip!"
Natty's gaze flickered to Astoria's wrist, her sharp eyes catching the glint of silver. "When did you get this?" she noted, nodding toward the delicate bracelet. "It's beautiful."
Astoria instinctively touched the charm at its centre, warmth creeping up her neck. "Oh thank you. It was a gift."
Poppy's eyes twinkled with curiosity. "From who?"
Astoria cleared her throat, suddenly finding her butterbeer very interesting. "Just a friend," she said quickly. Sebastian snaps his head up, staring at her. His face in mock disbelief, but the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.
Natty gave a knowing glance but said nothing more.
As they finished their drinks and began preparing to leave, the evening air greeted them with a sharp bite of cold. The streets of Hogsmeade were quiet, save for the occasional rustling of parchment from a passing owl or the distant laughter of students heading back to the castle.
Then, out of nowhere—
A crack of movement.
Poppy let out a startled gasp as a dark figure lunged from the shadows, knocking her off balance. Sebastian and Garreth reacted immediately, wands drawn, sending a flurry of defensive spells toward the retreating assailant but the figure had already vanished into the night.
Astoria's heart pounded as she rushed to Poppy's side. "Are you alright?"
Poppy nodded, shaken but unharmed. "What... what was that?"
Astoria helped Poppy to her feet. The air was sharp with frost, and though Poppy gave a shaky nod, Astoria could see the way her fingers trembled as she brushed the snow off her coat.
They hurried back to Hogwarts, moving in a tight-knit group. Their usual chatter was absent, replaced by glances over their shoulders and the sound of crunching snow beneath their boots. Even Garreth, usually the one to lighten the mood, was quiet.
By the time they reached the castle, most of the students had already retreated to their dormitories. Astoria bid her friends goodnight.
Once alone in the quiet of her bedroom, she reached into her coat pocket and froze.
There was something inside.
Slowly, she withdrew a folded slip of parchment, its edges slightly damp from the snow. A small, delicate ribbon was tied around it—a ribbon she recognized instantly.
Poppy's ribbon.
Her breath hitched as she untied it, her stomach twisting with unease.
Unfolding the parchment, her eyes swept over the sharp, precise handwriting:
Tomorrow. Midnight. The old boathouse. You would be wise to come.
—M
Astoria's grip tightened around the note, her knuckles going white.
The message was clear.
Magnus Dainforth wasn't just watching her—he was watching her friends.
She swallowed hard, heart hammering against her ribs as she stared at the ink, the weight of the decision settling heavily on her shoulders.
Tomorrow at midnight.
Would she go?