The afternoon sunlight passed through the arched windows and spread lazily across the deep blue carpet of Ravenclaw Tower.
Christmas had passed several days ago, and the Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor Quidditch match was drawing near.
Inside the common room, the air was filled with the smell of parchment and the sound of heated debate.
Near the windows, a blackboard that had been enchanted with Transfiguration floated in midair, squeaking softly while a piece of chalk danced across it like it was performing a tango.
Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, stood on top of a table, waving his wand as he shouted toward the board.
"If the Gryffindor Weasley twins hit Bludgers at the same time, we can't just dodge them. We need to—Terry, move that blasted emblem! It's blocking the dive route!"
Below him, several third-year students were gathered around a pile of sparkling fabric.
They were trying to apply a permanent color-changing charm to a massive blue banner.
"Add more gold! The color's too dull!" one girl commanded while waving her wand. Needles and threads moved on their own across the cloth.
"The eagle needs to look like it's hunting prey, not like a pigeon with the flu. And add a flicker charm too. We want Wood to be dazzled while he's guarding."
"That's cheating, Martha."
"The rulebook never says 'mistakes caused by excessive banner brightness' count as fouls. This is called a reasonable application of psychological tactics."
The Ravenclaw students were not as book-obsessed as outsiders often believed.
When the argument became "winning proves we're smarter than those reckless Gryffindors," their competitive spirit was harder than a troll's skull.
Lucian sat by the window.
He held a small glass marble between his fingers and slowly rotated it in the sunlight.
The light passed through the glass and cast a shifting spot of brightness across the back of his hand.
The Weasley twins had secretly given him the prototype two nights earlier.
It was a new prank item they were developing.
A trick firework.
Fred and George originally intended for the thing to explode in someone's hand, but Lucian had suggested adding a delayed trigger and a pressure sensor.
He turned the marble again in the sunlight.
Inside the glass sphere, the unstable powder core had been compressed by his Transfiguration into something that resembled a colorful nebula.
If the marble received a strong impact, it would explode and release a cloud that could not be dispersed for half an hour.
The cloud would automatically arrange itself into glowing words.
I AM A COMPLETE IDIOT.
The door opened.
The bronze eagle knocker had asked its riddle, and the person outside was clearly struggling.
A true Ravenclaw would at least attempt to debate the knocker even if they could not solve the riddle.
But the person outside hesitated for nearly half a minute before awkwardly reciting the standard answer like they were repeating a memorized lesson.
The door opened.
A girl stepped inside.
She wore the blue-trimmed robes of Ravenclaw and carried three thick copies of Medieval Magic History in her arms.
Padma?
No.
It was Parvati.
The twins seemed to have become addicted to their identity-switching game.
After being exposed in the courtyard earlier, they had clearly prepared something more elaborate.
Parvati carefully copied her sister's walking style. Her head was lowered as if she were thinking about something serious, but her eyes kept drifting toward the window.
The books she carried were far too heavy.
They were probably props meant to strengthen the disguise, but she had underestimated the weight of knowledge.
Her arm muscles were tense, and her neck leaned slightly forward.
It was the posture of someone not used to carrying heavy books.
Lucian evaluated the performance silently.
Poor acting.
But he did not expose her.
Life required occasional entertainment. Like adding a cube of sugar to tea.
"Padma, did you finish that essay about the basic principles in Transfiguration Guide?"
A boy with pale blond hair approached.
Anthony Goldstein waved a parchment filled with dense writing.
"The irreversibility of the transformation spell Professor McGonagall assigned is a paradox. No matter how many books I check, it doesn't make sense."
Parvati froze.
One of the heavy books almost slipped from her arms.
What did she know about irreversibility?
Back in the Gryffindor common room, it had taken her three evenings just to turn a matchstick into a needle.
But she quickly recovered.
Her expression shifted into the clever face she had practiced repeatedly in front of a mirror.
A slight frown.
Eyes unfocused.
A faint hint of disdain at the corner of her mouth.
"Oh, that."
Parvati switched the books to her other arm and spoke in a careless yet confident tone.
"You just need to reference the note about Gamp's Law in Chapter Twelve. The rest depends on intuition."
"Intuition?" Anthony blinked.
Then realization spread across his face.
"Merlin's beard! How did I miss that? Of course! That's exactly how you think, Padma. You always find a way to step outside the usual framework."
"…You're welcome."
Parvati sighed with relief internally, but her face remained calm and composed in the manner expected of a Ravenclaw honor student.
For the next few minutes she adapted surprisingly well.
Whether it was Lisa Turpin asking about herbology pest removal or Sue Li complaining about Professor Flitwick's difficult charm homework, Parvati responded with vague but confident answers that suggested the problem was obvious if they simply thought harder.
The feeling was strange.
She was a Gryffindor who preferred gossip and loud laughter in the corridors.
Yet now she wore her sister's blue robes and moved easily among the smartest students in Hogwarts.
Even Padma's close friends did not notice that the girl pretending to read could barely understand the title of the book she held.
But after the initial excitement faded, a strange emptiness crept into her mind.
Everyone smiled at her. Everyone praised Padma's insight.
But no one saw Parvati.
It was boring. Far too easy.
For a twelve-year-old, boredom quickly turned into a reckless urge for excitement. She wanted something more thrilling.
Something truly Gryffindor.
Her eyes moved across the room. They stopped on the person who had teased the twins earlier.
Lucian.
The boy who always looked at the world as if he saw through everything.
If it was him... Parvati's fingers brushed along the spine of the heavy book in her hands.
She walked toward a table near Lucian and placed the books down heavily. She exhaled instinctively, then quickly covered her mouth.
Padma would never behave like that.
Lucian turned his head. His calm gaze fell on her.
Parvati's heart tightened.
She had borrowed Padma's spare robes for today and braided her thick black hair carefully. She had practiced expressions in front of a mirror for an entire hour.
"Lucian," she said, copying her sister's tone as carefully as possible. "The sunlight is nice today."
The opening line was terrible.
Lucian raised the marble in his hand.
"It certainly is."
He tapped it lightly. A colorful mist swirled inside the glass.
Transfiguration.
Manipulation of light and shadow within an object.
"This is for you."
Lucian flicked his wrist. The marble arced through the air and landed neatly in Parvati's hands.
She caught it clumsily.
The glass sphere felt cool.
When she looked down, the swirling mist inside had transformed into several miniature lions in red and gold.
They roared silently inside their glass prison.
Parvati stared in shock. The tiny lions looked majestic.
Her eyes shone with delight.
"It's... beautiful."
She clasped the marble tightly and blushed slightly. "Thank you, Lucian."
She did not realize the gift itself was a quiet exposure of her disguise.
"I'm glad you like it," Lucian said lightly while turning back to the window. "Hold it carefully. It's a bit... lively."
Encouraged by this success, Parvati felt more confident. Maybe Lucian wasn't as distant as everyone said. He even gave her a gift.
She cleared her throat and prepared to reveal her real intention.
Holding the marble carefully, she stepped closer. "This weekend is the Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor match."
"I know," Lucian said without turning around. "If everyone discussing tactics lowered their volume slightly, I would know even more."
She tried to sound casual. "I saved a good seat in the stands. Right in the front. The view is excellent."
She looked at him hopefully.
It was the first time she had invited someone as a Ravenclaw. Since they were from the same house, he should not refuse so easily.
Lucian remained silent.
The quiet made her uneasy.
She rolled the marble in her hands. The tiny lions inside ran even faster.
"I'm not interested in balls flying through the sky," Lucian finally said.
His voice remained calm.
"I also dislike noisy environments."
"And," he gestured toward the cold wind outside the window, "I dislike freezing my face for meaningless points."
Parvati stared at him.
"But... it's Quidditch!" she protested. Her Gryffindor enthusiasm burst through the disguise. "It's glory!"
"Glory belongs to the winners," Lucian replied calmly. "The spectators get the cold."
He picked up a quill from the table.
It was a clear signal that the conversation was over.
"And one more thing," he added. "You're holding Medieval Magic History upside down."
Parvati looked down.
The golden letters on the spine were indeed upside down.
Embarrassment.
Pure, suffocating embarrassment.
"Freak," she muttered under her breath, forgetting to imitate Padma's voice.
She grabbed the books, clutching the glass marble tightly, and hurried toward the door.
"Wait," Lucian said suddenly.
Parvati stopped.
Hope returned briefly. Had he changed his mind?
Lucian pointed at the marble in her hand.
"Don't drop it," he said helpfully.
"It's a custom product from the Weasley twins. If you don't want to become famous in the corridor."
Parvati blinked.
She did not understand, but she nodded anyway and quickly ran out of the Ravenclaw common room.
After the door closed, Lucian shook his head and reopened his notebook.
"Full of energy," he murmured.
But if the marble exploded on the way...
Lucian allowed himself a faint smile. That would probably be more entertaining than the Quidditch match.
...
Later that night.
A heavy rhythmic thumping echoed through the corridor. It sounded like someone bouncing something heavy along the floor.
Lucian stopped walking.
A round figure hopped awkwardly around the corner.
His legs were locked tightly together by an invisible force. Each movement required a desperate jump followed by an unstable landing.
Neville Longbottom.
The Gryffindor boy's face was bright red. Tears gathered in his eyes, but he bit his lip to stop himself from crying.
When he lost his balance again and nearly fell face-first onto the stone floor, a gentle magical force supported his knees and helped him stand.
Through his blurry vision, Neville recognized the figure in front of him.
"Lucian?" he sniffed.
"Please help me! Malfoy... he cast something on me. A leg-lock curse or something..."
"Locomotor Mortis," Lucian said calmly.
"Most likely Malfoy's work."
"Please undo it," Neville begged. "I need to get back to the common room. Everyone is laughing at me."
Lucian raised his wand.
Hope appeared in Neville's eyes.
But in the next moment, Lucian simply used the tip of his wand to adjust Neville's crooked collar.
Then he lowered his wand.
"I refuse."
Neville froze.
Tears finally spilled from his eyes. "W-why? Aren't we—"
"Because it's meaningless, Longbottom."
Lucian stared directly into his eyes. "If I remove the curse, Malfoy will use another tomorrow."
"Cowardice is the hardest curse on you... And I cannot cure that."
"I… I can't beat him," Neville whispered weakly.
Lucian stepped aside and pointed toward the staircase above.
"Go find Harry Potter."
"Harry?" Neville repeated in confusion.
"He's the Savior. Gryffindor's golden boy."
"Heroes need a stage."
"Show him your wounds. Show him your humiliation. Tell him Slytherin did this to you."
"But Malfoy targets Harry too... You are different."
Lucian's smile deepened slightly.
"But Gryffindor lions never hesitate to defend their friends, do they? Your pain should become their anger... Not my convenience."
"Go. Let your hero fight for you."
Neville did not fully understand.
But Lucian's calm certainty convinced him.
"Find... Harry," Neville muttered, sniffing again as he resumed hopping awkwardly down the corridor.
"Thank you, Lucian."
Lucian watched the boy disappear. The faint star-like swirl in his eyes turned slowly.
He knew exactly what would happen next.
A midnight duel.
House points lost.
Reckless heroes.
A play whose script had already been written was about to begin.
__________
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