They bent over their parchments. Eira's strokes were steady, deliberate. Hermione's were quick but precise, each character almost textbook-perfect. Professor Babbling walked the aisles, nodding approvingly at their work.
As the lesson moved on, the professor explained Uruz (strength, endurance) and Thurisaz (protection, danger). She spoke passionately, gesturing with ink-stained hands, sometimes slipping into anecdotes about runestones found in ancient burial mounds. A few Ravenclaws leaned forward, enthralled. The Hufflepuff boys slouched lower, already lost.
When the professor turned to the board again, Hermione leaned closer to Eira and whispered, "So—how are you settling in? In Slytherin, I mean. I wasn't sure how they'd treat you."
Eira paused, then smiled lightly. "I'm fine. I share a dormitory with Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, and Tracey Davis. It's… an interesting mix."
Hermione raised her brows. "Pansy? That must be difficult."
Eira's lips twitched. "She glares more than she speaks to me. But Daphne keeps to herself, and Tracey's been friendly. I think she's more interested in joking than plotting."
Hermione chuckled softly. "That sounds about right. Still… it must be odd. I mean, Slytherins aren't exactly known for being welcoming."
"I expected worse," Eira admitted. "They're ambitious, but that doesn't frighten me. If anything, it makes the dorm lively."
Hermione nodded thoughtfully, though her eyes were still searching Eira's face as if weighing whether she truly was comfortable.
Professor Babbling's voice cut through. "Ansuz—divine inspiration, communication. You may find this rune woven into spells for clarity of speech. Copy it thrice. Yes, Mr. Finnigan, three times, not one."
As quills scratched across parchment, Hermione leaned a little closer, keeping her voice just above a whisper. "You know, I really am glad you're here. Hogwarts needed someone like you. Not everyone sees it yet, but I do."
Eira tilted her head with a faint smile. "That's kind of you to say. Though, I'm not sure Hogwarts needed me. Maybe just… someone who can actually stay awake through Professor Babbling's lectures."
Hermione stifled a laugh, covering it with a cough. "Eira! That's awful—she's brilliant."
"I didn't say she wasn't," Eira whispered back, eyes glinting with mischief. "I just said her voice could double as a sleeping charm if she's not careful."
Hermione shook her head, trying and failing to hide her smile. "You're terrible. And if she catches us whispering, she'll give us extra translation exercises for a month."
"Then I'll just copy yours," Eira said lightly.
Hermione gave a quiet laugh, eyes bright. "You wouldn't dare."
Eira leaned in a little closer, her tone playful. "Wouldn't I?"
For a moment they exchanged conspiratorial smiles, parchment and quills momentarily forgotten, until the rustle of the classroom brought them back. Hermione straightened, biting her lip to keep from smiling too much, while Eira ducked her head over her notes with a grin still tugging at her mouth.
For a few minutes, they worked quietly, copying runes. Then, during a lull, Hermione sighed and set her quill down.
"I still can't stop thinking about what happened at the World Cup," she murmured.
Eira glanced at her. "The Dark Mark?"
Hermione shook her head. "That too, but… what really stayed with me was Winky."
"Winky?" Eira frowned slightly, unfamiliar with the name.
"She was a house-elf," Hermione explained, her voice softening. "She belonged to Barty Crouch. During the chaos, they found Harry's wand—and it was in her possession. She hadn't even done anything wrong, but Mr. Crouch… he dismissed her. Right there. In front of everyone. She was begging him not to abandon her, crying and trembling, but he just turned his back on her. As though she was nothing."
Eira's eyes narrowed slightly, though her tone stayed steady. "Unfortunately, it is what it is. Some pure-blood families treat their house-elves that way. They see them as property."
Hermione's head snapped up, her eyes flashing with indignation. "But that's what's wrong! They're not just property. They're individuals. They have wisdom, cleverness, feelings. You can't just discard them like a used object once they've outlived their usefulness. It's cruel."
She pressed her lips together tightly, as if the memory itself hurt. "I felt so bad for her. Everyone was watching, and nobody cared."
Eira studied her with quiet curiosity. This girl could brush aside war, dark magic, and politics with remarkable calmness—but the fate of a single house-elf pierced her to the heart. It made Eira wonder how the abandonment of a servant could affect Hermione so deeply when she ignored so many other cruelties in the world.
Professor Babbling suddenly snapped her fingers. "Miss Granger, please recite the meaning of Raido."
Hermione straightened instantly. "Raido symbolizes travel, journey, and the right path. It can also be used in spells of movement or guiding enchantments."
"Correct," Professor Babbling said approvingly, then turned back to the board.
Eira smirked. "You never miss a beat."
Hermione gave a sheepish grin. "I read ahead last night."
The lesson continued, but beneath their copying and quiet notes, the conversation resumed in whispers.