Since returning from the Headmaster's office, Fila had been completely absorbed in her new book. The dormitory, usually alive with conversation, laughter, and the occasional argument over borrowed parchment, had slowly adapted to the peculiar sight of Fila sitting cross legged on her bed, Florae Arcanum resting open before her like a quiet invitation she could not refuse. Hours seemed to slip past unnoticed. Morning light faded into afternoon gold, then softened into evening glow, while page after page revealed ideas that felt less like instruction and more like discovery.
The book did not behave like the other one. No shifting ink. No commentary appearing at inconvenient moments. Its magic was subtler, woven into the diagrams that seemed almost alive when studied too long, into the delicate illustrations of roots, veins, petals, and structures that pulsed faintly with layered enchantments. Botanical magic, it turned out, was not simply about growth. It was about balance, influence, redirection. About understanding how magic moved through living things rather than imposing will upon them.
Fila traced a finger along a drawing of a flowering vine whose internal channels shimmered softly. The text described how magical energy could be encouraged to circulate differently, altering not just appearance but properties. Resilience. Flexibility. Response.
Healing made sense to her almost immediately. Plants already mended, regenerated, adapted. The leap between natural recovery and magical assistance felt small, almost obvious once the idea had been placed before her. Combat, however… that was where her imagination hesitated. Not out of fear, but uncertainty. Flowers were soft, fragile in appearance, rarely associated with force unless one considered thorns, toxins, creeping vines strong enough to fracture stone.
Still, the book insisted through implication rather than instruction. Botanical magic was not limited by aesthetics. A blossom could soothe. A vine could restrain. Pollen could cloud senses. Roots could anchor or disrupt.
As she dived deeper into the combat that could be used, she simply had to change her whole idea of how a plant worked. A normal plant would of course be fragile and not very useful, but it right and a rose stem or even a tree branch could be used like a blade or spear.
The knowledge she had gained from this book, wouldn't be taught in school ever.
Even the idea to use flower in healing or even combat was very strange. Fila hadn't tried it yet, but it was next on her list on things to try.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
June leaned halfway through the doorway without waiting for an answer. "You're still reading."
"I was thinking."
"That counts."
Fila smiled faintly. "Probably."
June stepped inside, flopping dramatically onto Calla's bed, which Calla tolerated with the long suffering patience of someone who had accepted this as an unavoidable reality of shared dormitory life. "You do realize it's Valentine's tomorrow?"
Fila blinked. "…Right."
"You forgot again."
"I did not forget."
June grinned. "You forgot."
Fila closed the book with gentle reluctance. "It's just a day."
"It is a spectacle," June corrected.
Calla laughed softly from her desk. "You'll see."
Fila shook her head, though amusement tugged faintly at her expression. "People get very strange about it."
"People are always strange."
"Fair."
Later that evening, once the dormitory had softened into its familiar nighttime quiet, Fila sat near the window with the book open once more. Snow drifted lazily beyond the glass, the grounds wrapped in silver stillness. Her wand rested loosely between her fingers as she reread a passage describing subtle manipulation of plant vitality, how magical reinforcement could temporarily enhance structural integrity without altering outward form.
Carefully, experimentally, she extended her hand toward the small potted plant resting on the sill. A modest thing, green leaves slightly drooping from neglect she absolutely refused to acknowledge.
"I do not neglect you," she murmured.
The plant did not respond.
Fila smiled.
With quiet focus, she guided a thin thread of magic forward. Not pushing. Not forcing. Just… offering. The sensation differed from ordinary spellcasting. Softer. More like aligning than directing. The leaves trembled almost imperceptibly, then slowly lifted, their green deepening with renewed vitality.
Fila's eyes lit with quiet delight.
No flash. No dramatic burst.
Just response.
She leaned back slightly, satisfaction settling warmly in her chest. Healing, then. Or at least something adjacent to it. Combat would wait. There was no rush, no pressure to immediately transform theory into application.
Tomorrow would bring Valentine's chaos.
Tonight belonged to curiosity, snowlight, and a quietly thriving plant that, if she listened very carefully,
almost seemed pleased.
The next day.
Even the weather had turned around for this day. Snow had begun melting, the sun blasted warmer lights than in the last four months combined.
Calla was over the moon right now, she had received chocolates from her prince charming.
"Are you going to open it," June asked, "or just stare at it until graduation?"
Calla beamed. "I am appreciating it."
"You are torturing yourself."
"I am savoring."
Fila, who had been attempting to brush her hair while pretending not to watch, finally gave up the performance. "Just open it."
Calla laughed and lifted the lid.
June gasped dramatically. "Chocolates. How shocking. How entirely unexpected."
"They're beautiful," Calla said, clearly ignoring the commentary as she examined the neat arrangement inside.
"Most things are when you're in love," June replied.
"I am not in love."
June and Fila exchanged identical looks.
Calla narrowed her eyes. "Do not start."
Fila grinned. "We would never."
"You absolutely would."
They would, of course, and everyone knew it.
The common room downstairs had transformed overnight into something between celebration and gentle chaos. Floating ribbons drifted lazily near the ceiling, charmed hearts glowed softly along the walls, and someone had enchanted clusters of rose petals to spiral gracefully through the air. Students gathered in shifting groups, exchanging small boxes, notes, awkward smiles, and the occasional spectacularly failed attempt at appearing indifferent.
Theo leaned against the far wall, observing the scene with theatrical disapproval.
"This," he declared as Fila approached, "is madness."
"You're just bitter."
"I am deeply offended by the excessive happiness."
Fila smirked. "No chocolates?"
Theo scoffed. "I have standards."
June appeared beside them, already holding three small wrapped parcels. "Which means yes."
Theo looked betrayed. "Traitors, both of you."
Fila laughed as she moved past him, eyes drifting across the room. Valentine's truly did strange things to people. Even the perpetually exhausted looked animated. Even the quiet ones smiled more easily. It was as if the usual weight of assignments and expectations had been temporarily lifted, replaced by something lighter, softer, slightly ridiculous.
She barely noticed her own magic stirring until a small cluster of pale blossoms unfurled along the edge of a nearby table.
June noticed immediately.
"Oh no," she said, delighted. "It's spreading."
"I'm not doing that on purpose."
"Of course you're not."
The flowers settled innocently, as though they had always belonged there.
Fila shook her head, though amusement warmed her expression. Perhaps Valentine's had an effect on more than just moods. Or perhaps happiness, however mild, simply loosened control.
But as valentine was on a Monday, that meant that classes would still go on.
June and Fila were digging into a pot of dirt to plant a aconite. Aconite was a plant that had its uses in potion making. Potions like the wolfsbane used it. The bad thing about the plant was the poisoned leaves. But as this was just a seed, there were no real danger, but you still had to plant it correctly and make sure it had the right conditions.
She placed the seed gently into the earth.
June leaned closer. "Still weird we're handling something that becomes wildly poisonous."
"Most useful things are."
"That is a mildly concerning philosophy."
Fila covered the seed with careful precision, smoothing the soil as though tucking it into place. Instead of immediately reaching for her wand, she paused, resting her hand lightly against the surface of the earth. A subtle adjustment. A quiet encouragement rather than a spell.
"Why do you do that?" June asked, she looked so confused.
Fila raised an eyebrow. "What?"
June just waved her wand in a small circle. "Less wanding, and more touching. Why?"
Fila considered that. "Plants respond better when you don't treat them like objects."
June blinked. "That sounded suspiciously wise."
"I read."
Professor Naya appeared beside them, her presence gentle yet unmistakable. "And what conclusions has reading brought you today?"
June answered immediately. "That Fila is now whispering to seeds."
Professor Naya's lips curved faintly. "An excellent habit, depending on the seed."
Fila straightened slightly. "We're planting aconite."
"A beautiful and temperamental creature," Naya said, examining the pot. "It rewards patience and punishes carelessness. Rather like certain students."
June grinned. "I feel targeted."
"As intended."
Fila felt a small ripple beneath her fingers.
Not growth.
Just the faintest suggestion of awareness, like something settling comfortably into its new place.
She said nothing, though quiet satisfaction warmed her expression.
Around them the greenhouse hummed with life, students negotiating with stubborn roots, leaves rustling softly, magic drifting through the air in subtle currents. Outside Valentine's continued its slow parade of floating hearts and distracted glances.
But for Fila who thought that valentine would stay peaceful, had another thing coming.
As the herbology class ended, it didn't take long for the letters to arrive.
First an owl landed in front of her and dopped a letter.
June, calla and Fila looked down at the letter.
"Did you just get…"
Fila raised a finger to silence what Calla was about to say. But she did also have the feeling that it wasn't about to be good. The letter, a pink one with a heart seal on it.
She sighed and picked up the letter, it smelt of rose spray.
"Noooo…" she said under her breath while hanging her head back.
June's eyes widened with immediate delight, the kind that could only be described as socially predatory. "Oh this is excellent," she whispered, already leaning far too close.
"It is not excellent," Fila replied, still staring at the pink envelope as though it might detonate.
Calla clasped her hands together. "Open it."
"I don't want to."
"That is exactly why you must."
Fila exhaled slowly, turning the letter between her fingers. The parchment was tinted an almost aggressively cheerful shade of pink, the heart shaped seal shimmering faintly with a charm designed to prevent tampering. Or hesitation. Or dignity.
"Well," June said, grinning, "someone clearly has feelings."
"Someone clearly has terrible judgment."
Professor Naya passed behind them, pausing only briefly. Her gaze flicked to the envelope, then to Fila's expression. A knowing smile touched her lips. "Do try not to faint in the corridor, Miss Ophelia."
"I make no promises, Professor."
Naya continued on, visibly amused.
Fila broke the seal.
The letter unfolded itself with unnecessary flourish.
June made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a squeal. "This is already dramatic."
Fila cleared her throat, eyes scanning the elegant looping script.
Then she froze.
"Oh no," June breathed. "Why are you making that face?"
Calla leaned in. "What does it say?"
Fila closed the letter halfway.
June narrowed her eyes. "Fila."
Fila closed it completely.
"Fila."
"…It's nothing."
June lunged.
Fila twisted away with surprising speed, though laughter betrayed her far too easily. "June!"
Calla, entirely unhelpful, tried to peek over her shoulder. "Let me see!"
"You are both insufferable."
"That is not a denial," June said, attempting again.
Fila finally surrendered with theatrical defeat, holding the letter out at arm's length while June and Calla leaned in like scholars examining a rare artifact.
June read aloud.
"To the most enchanting witch in Thunderbird…"
"Oh Merlin," Fila muttered.
"…whose presence brightens corridors more than morning light…"
Calla clutched her chest. "That is adorable."
"…please meet me by the lakeside willow after dinner…"
June gasped. "LAKESIDE."
"…signed, your secret admirer."
There was a beat of silence.
Then June exploded.
"YOU HAVE A SECRET ADMIRER."
"I am aware."
"This is magnificent."
"This is horrifying."
Calla was smiling so brightly it bordered on radiant. "You have to go."
"I absolutely do not."
"You absolutely do."
June nodded vigorously. "It's the law."
"There is no such law."
"There should be."
Fila folded the letter again, cheeks faintly tinted despite her valiant attempts at indifference. "It's probably a prank."
"That is what people without admirers say."
"I don't want to stand by a tree while someone dramatically confesses feelings."
June tilted her head. "You literally grow flowers when you're happy."
"That is unrelated."
Calla laughed softly. "You're going."
Fila sighed, sliding the letter into her bag. "I hate both of you."
June beamed. "You love us."
"…Unfortunately."
They stepped out into the corridor, which had become even more unbearable since morning. Floating hearts drifted lazily overhead. Somewhere nearby, someone had enchanted a suit of armor to hum a love song slightly off key.
June grinned. "Still think Valentine's is just a day?"
Fila groaned. "I take it back. It's a curse."
The thing about receiving the letter wasn't the bad thing in itself. But since Fila didn't feel that she had given anyone that kind of treatment, it was weird. And she didn't feel that any guy has been sending these signals either.
It was not embarrassment that unsettled Fila. Not entirely. Attention she could tolerate, deflect, even joke about. But this felt… misplaced. As though someone had read a story about her instead of actually knowing her.
She walked beside June and Calla through the corridor, Valentine's decorations drifting lazily overhead. Around them, students floated between excitement and nervous anticipation. Whispered conversations. Sudden bursts of laughter. Awkward exchanges of small wrapped tokens.
And yet Fila's thoughts had turned inward.
"I do not understand it," she murmured.
June glanced sideways. "Understand what?"
"The letter."
Calla smiled. "What's not to understand? Someone likes you."
"But why?"
June nearly stumbled. "That may be the least subtle self compliment I have ever heard."
Fila shook her head. "No, I mean it."
There was no vanity in her voice. Only genuine confusion.
"I haven't…" She hesitated, searching for the shape of the thought. "I haven't encouraged anything."
June grinned. "Existing while being charming counts."
"I am not charming."
Calla laughed softly. "You grow flowers when you're distracted. And you are the most pretty girl in thunderbird"
Fila stopped, "I'm not."
Both Calla and June stopped a little in front of her as they heard her. They both looked at each other.
June looked around the hallway and saw a group of boys heading their way.
She walked in front of they boys. "Hey guys, who do you think is the cutest or prettiest in thunderbirds?"
The boys, a little caught of guard didn't take long to answer. "Stella, Ophelia and Heather." The all answered, it sounded practiced even.
June turned around to Fila and hade the biggest smirk on her face. "The chances are very high as you heard."
Fila stared at her.
Then at the boys.
Then back at June.
"That proves absolutely nothing," she said, though the faint color rising in her cheeks betrayed the statement.
June looked deeply satisfied with herself. "It proves everything."
"It proves that teenage boys have opinions."
"Correct opinions."
Calla, meanwhile, looked delighted by the entire exchange. "Also, did you hear how quickly they answered? That was suspiciously fast."
"They sounded rehearsed," Fila muttered.
June leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Almost as if your existence has been discussed."
"I refuse to believe that."
"You can refuse all you want."
Fila crossed her arms, attempting dignity. "People say things."
"Yes."
"They exaggerate."
"Yes."
"And you are both being unbearable."
June beamed. "Also yes."
The boys had already continued down the corridor, though not without a few curious glances back. Fila pretended very hard not to notice. Valentine's Day had clearly turned the entire castle into a theater production where everyone was either an actor or an unwilling participant.
Mostly unwilling, in her case.
Calla slipped her arm through Fila's as they resumed walking. "You really do not see it, do you?"
"See what?"
"How people look at you."
Fila frowned. "Normally?"
June nearly choked. "Normally," she repeated.
"I am serious."
"So am I," June replied. "You walk into a room and plants grow. You answer questions professors have not finished asking. You casually decorate assignments out of boredom. That tends to… attract attention."
"That is not attraction. That is curiosity."
"Same neighborhood."
Fila sighed softly, gaze drifting ahead. The corridor buzzed with that peculiar Valentine's energy, a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and sugar induced optimism. Somewhere nearby, a charmed heart burst into glitter when a passing couple laughed too loudly.
"This is exactly what I meant," Fila said.
"What?"
"Strange behavior."
June grinned. "You received a romantic letter and your main concern is sociological analysis."
"I like understanding things."
Calla laughed quietly. "Some things are simple."
"This is not simple."
June tilted her head. "You are going tonight."
Fila groaned. "You keep saying that like repetition increases my enthusiasm."
"It increases inevitability."
They descended the staircase toward the lower levels, sunlight spilling through tall windows, the melting snow outside casting shimmering reflections along the stone walls. Winter seemed to be loosening its grip at last, though the air still carried a crisp bite that reminded everyone the season had not fully surrendered.
Fila's fingers brushed absently against her bag again.
Letter.
Book.
Willow tree.
"…It is probably a prank," she murmured.
June laughed. "If it is, it is the most elaborate and poetically committed prank I have ever seen."
Calla smiled. "And if it is not?"
Fila hesitated.
That same unfamiliar sensation stirred again, subtle yet undeniable.
"fine I will go, just because I'm curious on who sent it." Fila said. But she was a bit annoyed with June and Calla right now.
June's grin was immediate and triumphant.
"There it is," she said. "Curiosity wins again."
"This is not victory," Fila replied, adjusting the strap of her bag with slightly more force than necessary. "This is investigation."
Calla laughed softly. "Of course it is."
Fila gave them both a look that was meant to be intimidating but failed rather spectacularly thanks to the lingering pink tint still warming her cheeks. "If this turns out to be a prank, I expect formal apologies. Written. Signed. Possibly notarized."
"I will absolutely not apologize," June said cheerfully.
"You will."
"I will bring snacks instead."
"That is not the same thing."
"It is better."
They continued down the staircase, the late afternoon light pouring through the tall windows in bright, honeyed sheets that shimmered across the stone walls. Outside, winter's retreat had become unmistakable. Snow melted along the edges of the grounds, revealing dark earth beneath, while thin streams of water traced lazy paths between patches of lingering frost. Valentine's decorations floated gently overhead, charmed hearts drifting like slow, aimless clouds.
The last lesson became pure torture, she couldn't think of anything else other than how the sender was. And she really didn't have a clue.
The final lesson of the day unfolded with excruciating slowness.
Fila sat near the window, parchment untouched, quill resting idly between her fingers. Professor Alder's voice carried its usual calm rhythm across the classroom, weaving through dates, events, and magical treaties that normally held her attention with ease.
Today, however, the words barely registered.
Her thoughts circled relentlessly.
Beside her, June scribbled something energetically.
Not notes.
Absolutely not notes.
Fila leaned slightly. "Are you even pretending to listen?"
June didn't look up. "I am composing potential admirer profiles."
"…You're what?"
June grinned, still writing. "Psychological assessment. Romantic probability. Dramatic potential."
"You're impossible."
"I am invested."
Fila sighed quietly, shifting in her seat. The classroom felt warmer than usual, though she suspected that had more to do with her own restless energy than any enchantment.
Her eyes drifted again.
Theo?
No.
Impossible.
He would never write something so… poetically unhinged.
Besides, she would have noticed.
Wouldn't she?
Heather?
No.
Wrong tone.
Someone from another house?
But how would they—
"Miss Ophelia."
Fila startled.
Professor Alder stood before her desk, spectacles low on his nose, expression caught between curiosity and mild amusement.
"Yes, Professor?"
"I was just asking," he said gently, "whether the Statute revisions of 1875 had broader social or legal consequences."
Fila blinked.
Her mind, still halfway at the lakeside, scrambled violently.
June leaned back slightly, clearly enjoying this far too much.
Fila inhaled once.
Then answered.
"Both, Professor. The revisions altered enforcement authority but also reshaped wizarding interactions with non magical governance structures, particularly in North America where jurisdictional boundaries were already… complicated."
Alder's brows lifted slightly.
"Quite right."
He moved on.
June leaned closer immediately. "Distracted, yet brilliant. Truly infuriating."
Fila muttered, "I hate this day."
"You love this day."
"I absolutely do not."
But even as she said it, her fingers tightened subtly around the edge of her desk.
Because beneath the irritation…
Beneath the confusion…
Curiosity burned brighter than ever.
The classroom clock ticked forward with agonizing restraint.
Each second louder.
Each minute longer.
Until finally—
The bell rang.
Students erupted into motion, parchment snapping shut, chairs scraping softly, conversation bursting back to life like contained energy suddenly released.
June stood instantly. "Well."
Fila gathered her things with forced composure. "Do not."
"Oh, I absolutely will."
Calla appeared at Fila's other side. "Are you nervous?"
"No."
"You're lying."
"…A little."
June beamed. "This is the best Valentine's ever."
"For you."
"For everyone."
After she and her classmates had ate dinner. She was slowly making her way towards the meeting spot. She was nervous, no point in denying it.
The steps were careful, as if she would make someone hear her if she walked faster. And then she arrived. She now stood alone below the tree.
And she waited… and waited… and waited.
For more than half an hour she stood there, nothing.
She wasn't sad… that was a lie. Even if she didn't even know who sent her the letter she still felt almost betrayed. She took the time to stand out here in the cold. Just to wait for some prank or someone to not show up.
Her sadness turned to anger. And yet she still gave it a couple more minutes.
"I stood here… like an idiot."
The rage building up inside her could be felt, and seen. She didn't notice it but the willow tree that had marked the meeting spot was waving its branches wildly. Roots crawled out of the ground enveloping the tree. Grass turned brown, dying.
Tears rolled down from her eyes slowly.
The grass nearest her shoes withered in spreading circles, green surrendering to brittle brown. Thin fractures appeared across the soil as roots forced their way upward, pale and twisting, crawling like slow moving veins across the ground. The willow responded most violently of all. Its long branches snapped through the air in frantic sweeps, leaves tearing loose and spiraling downward in a chaotic rain. Even the air felt strained, as though the space itself recoiled from the surge of unchecked emotion.
Fila barely noticed.
"I hate this," she whispered, voice trembling.
A thick root split through the earth beside her, curling upward with a low, groaning crack.
That sound pierced the haze.
Fila's breath hitched. Her gaze dropped slowly to the ground, finally seeing what her feelings had been doing. The dying grass. The trembling vines. The willow's agitation, its bark creaking under visible stress.
"Oh…"
The anger did not vanish, but shock carved a clean line through it.
"I didn't…"
Another tear slipped free.
The book's teachings echoed faintly in her mind, not as words now but as sensation. Plants do not resist emotion. They reflect it. Amplify it. Become it.
Fila swallowed hard.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, and this time she did not know whether she meant the unseen admirer, herself, or the distressed tree towering above her.
She did what the book had taught her, breathed calmly. And with the approaching calmness that she felt, the ground around her slowly restored.
The grass turned green, and roots crawled back into the ground.
The winds around her felt as if they were trying to help her calm down, whispering in her ear.
'I don't need this' she thought. She turned around towards the school towering on the hill.