Ravenclaw students prided themselves on their sharp theoretical minds. It was almost a tradition to launch into these "armchair duels"—debating strategies, swapping opinions, and imagining what they'd do in a real magical crisis.
Tonight was no different. Everyone was eager to share their ideas for handling a troll, each hoping Wyzett would judge whose plan was best.
In truth, it was the Withering Curse that had sealed the victory. The combination of the Levitation Charm and Ancient Magic: Projectile Mastery had also been crucial.
But those were Wyzett's secrets. For now, he had no intention of revealing them.
He didn't want to stand out too much, either. So, drawing on plots from his previous life, he spun a tale in which everyone worked together to defeat the troll.
Even in the wizarding world, the idea of a first-year student single-handedly taking down a troll was simply too far-fetched.
A story of teamwork sounded far more plausible—and it satisfied his friends' curiosity.
When the tale was finally told, exhaustion swept over Wyzett. He rubbed his eyelids, fighting to keep them open.
Penelope and Cho Chang noticed at once, gently shooing everyone off to bed and giving Wyzett the perfect chance to slip away to the dormitory.
His roommates were already spent. They exchanged sleepy goodnights and collapsed onto their beds, not even bothering to change into pajamas before drifting off the moment their heads hit the pillows.
After a quick wash and a change into his own pajamas, Wyzett was just about to settle in when a tapping sound came from the window.
He turned to see Thor—his faithful owl—pecking at the glass, a bulging letter clutched in his talons.
"You've really outdone yourself tonight!" Wyzett whispered, quickly letting Thor in and cradling him in his arms for warmth. "You could've rested and brought this tomorrow, you know."
"Hoo!" Thor shook his head, feathers ruffling.
He smelled faintly of herbs—the distinctive scent of the owlery's special feed.
The blend was Professor Sprout's own recipe, designed to help owls recover their strength in no time.
The four heads of house at Hogwarts were all masters in their fields, and it showed in the smallest details.
As expected, the letter was from Luna. The moment Thor sensed Wyzett's return, he'd delivered it without delay.
Wyzett tore open the envelope eagerly. Inside were warm Halloween wishes from both Luna and Xenophilius.
There was also a little note from Luna, marked with a smiley face: "There's a small surprise from Dad hidden in the candy!"
That explained the bulging envelope—it contained a pouch of homemade toffees.
Peeling back the wax paper, Wyzett found glossy, hand-shaped toffees: Dirigible Plums, owls, and Freshwater Plimpies—each one crafted in delightful detail.
Luna had clearly poured her heart into them. Thanks to her delicate touch, the candies looked almost alive.
Wyzett picked a Freshwater Plimpy toffee and let it melt slowly in his mouth.
The flavor was exquisite—a swirl of milk, vanilla, and caramel, blending into a perfect sweetness.
A few chews later, a powerful burst hit his tongue: a soft, chewy center made from Gurdyroot juice and honey.
If he had to describe it, it was like savoring a bite of vanilla-caramel ice cream, then unexpectedly tasting a scallion pancake drizzled with honey.
That unique filling was surely Xenophilius's handiwork—he was famous for brewing tea with Gurdyroot.
After so long in the Lovegood home, Wyzett had grown fond of that oniony tea.
He didn't mind the taste at all. In fact, it sent his thoughts drifting far away…
He smiled to himself. "That's what home tastes like."
"Hoo?" Thor cooed softly, nuzzling Wyzett's neck.
Wyzett shook his head, coming back to the present.
He lifted Thor gently and whispered, "Go get some sleep, will you? All this flying back and forth must be exhausting."
"Hoo?" Thor tilted his head and gave his hand a gentle peck, as if to say he didn't mind at all.
"I'm planning to send a submission to Mr. Lovegood," Wyzett explained, smiling wryly. "It'll take me a while to finish. Could you come back for the letter tomorrow afternoon?"
"Hoo hoo!" Thor seemed to agree, flapped his wings, and swooped gracefully out the window, vanishing into the night sky.
Wyzett popped another toffee into his mouth.
This time, he let it dissolve slowly as he dipped his quill and began to write.
Maybe it was the unique flavor of the filling, or maybe it was the taste of home—whatever the reason, he didn't feel the least bit sleepy.
Two months could change so much.
He'd gained a deeper understanding of magic, mastered a dangerous curse, and claimed more ancient magic for himself.
He'd also grown comfortable writing letters, able to share his thoughts with Luna with ease.
As for tonight's adventure, he planned to draw on stories from his past life, weaving them into something even more dramatic and magical.
It wouldn't be easy, but by the time he'd mapped out the story's framework, dawn was already breaking outside his window.
Greeting the sunrise, Wyzett stood and stretched.
"A brand new day!"
It was Friday, and first-year Ravenclaws had no morning classes—the perfect excuse to sleep in.
When he finally woke, it was already noon. Sunlight spilled across the blue carpet, making Wyzett feel as if he were floating on clouds.
He stood at the window, gazing out at the distant Forbidden Forest.
It was late autumn, nearly winter. The forest remained a shadowy, impenetrable mass—perhaps only snow could dress it in silver.
On the windowsill, his Dirigible Plum seedling had sprouted, stretching its tiny leaves toward the sun, soaking in every ray.
Thanks to Professor Sprout's guidance, it was thriving.
Suddenly, Anthony's voice rang out: "We watered it for you this morning."
His roommates had all returned, arms full of wax-paper parcels that filled the air with delicious aromas.
Chris set his bundle down. "You never showed up in the Great Hall, so we brought you some food."
Just as Wyzett opened his mouth to thank them, Michael cut in, "No need for thanks! When we can't wake up in the morning, you always bring us breakfast, don't you?"
"Ah, what a shame about last night's Halloween feast," Terry sighed, eyes closed in blissful memory. "You missed it—there was Yorkshire pudding with special spices. I'll never forget that taste…"
Michael started teasing again, grinning mischievously. "You love food so much, you should be in Hufflepuff!"
Terry shot back, "Ha! If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even know how good Yorkshire pudding could be. Maybe you're the one who belongs in Hufflepuff!"
Anthony chimed in, "My suggestion? You both transfer together!"
Wyzett was used to their playful bickering by now.
He picked up a slice of apple pie, settled at his desk, and watched the show unfold.
With an empty stomach, sweets always seemed to taste even better.
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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