It was a quiet evening in the Hufflepuff common room.
Golden firelight danced across the stone walls and enchanted lanterns swayed gently overhead. The hearth crackled with comforting warmth, and outside the windows, soft snow swirled in the fading light of dusk.
Hadrian, Iris, and Dora had staked out their usual corner by the window. Quills, parchment, and half-eaten biscuits cluttered the table. Dora's legs dangled over the side of the armchair she shared with Hadrian, who was sprawled sideways, scribbling in deliberate strokes. Iris sat cross-legged on a pouf, her forehead slightly furrowed in thought.
"I still can't believe Professor Merriman actually stood on his desk," Iris said, smiling as she dipped her quill into ink. "It was like watching a magical version of theatre."
"That's just his way," Hadrian said without looking up. "He makes people care about history without even realizing it."
"I'm going to write about preserving magical laughter," Dora declared, tapping her chin with her quill. "Not jokes, but the kind of laughter that comes when you're safe, surrounded by people who love you. You know, like this." She gave them both a sly little grin, cheeks coloring just a bit.
"Aw, that's sweet," Iris said with a teasing wink. "Mine's about preserving forgotten people. The ones who make a difference and don't get remembered in history books."
"Unsung heroes?" Hadrian asked.
Iris nodded. "Like that first-year Ravenclaw who helped Hermione. Or Hagrid. Or even house-elves."
Hadrian smiled. "That's a good one."
Dora looked at him curiously. "And you? What are you writing?"
He paused for a moment. His quill hovered above the parchment. "I'm writing about preserving potential. The chance to change. The idea that even if things are bad, they can become good. That kind of magic is worth keeping safe."
There was a silence, not awkward but thoughtful. Snowflakes tapped gently against the window.
"I like that," Iris whispered.
"Same," Dora said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear—then adding a quick note to her parchment, as if inspired by him.
For a while, the only sounds were the scratching of quills, the hiss of the fireplace, and the occasional rustle of parchment.
At some point, Dora's head slid against Hadrian's shoulder, and he leaned into it without thinking. Iris glanced at them, smiled quietly to herself, and returned to her essay.
"Do you think the Veil is really a sanctuary?" Dora asked after a while.
"I don't know," Hadrian replied truthfully, since he didn't guarantee with his change that the sanctuary would stay as beautiful as it once was many years ago when the ancients built and maintained it. Still, since he heard that scrying magic was used to verify what it there he is still quite unconcerned.
"But if it is… I want to make sure we never have to use it. I want this world to be safe."
"Then we'd better start shaping it now," Iris said, looking up with a spark in her eyes.
Dora raised her parchment and grinned. "Then let's make this essay the first step."