Ice Blue and Blinding Gold

The early October air carried the first true bite of autumn, crisp and edged with the scent of fallen leaves and damp earth. A brisk wind whistled through the towering stands of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, rustling the banners that had begun to appear in anticipation of the upcoming season. The sky was a pale, cloud-streaked blue, the weak afternoon sunlight doing little to combat the chill that settled over the grounds.

Across the expansive field, the grass was still lush but speckled with golden-brown leaves carried from the Forbidden Forest. The distant trees lining the edge of the grounds had begun their slow transformation, their emerald hues now tinged with ochre and crimson. Every so often, a stronger gust would sweep through, sending a flurry of leaves skittering across the pitch like tiny, restless specters.

The air was sharp, the kind that filled the lungs with a refreshing sting, urging students to pull their robes tighter around themselves as they hurried across the grounds. Yet, for the players preparing for practice, the cold was invigorating, sharpening their senses as they mounted their brooms, their breath misting in the chill.

Madam Hooch's whistle cut sharply through the crisp October air, a shrill sound that had already begun to grate on the ears of the assembled first-years. "Back straight, knees bent! Keep your balance centered! Nott, stop clenching the handle like you're trying to strangle it!" she barked, striding between the hovering students with her piercing yellow eyes scanning for mistakes.

Anne, however, had little time to pay attention to her constant corrections. She leaned forward slightly, swerving her school-provided Cleansweep to the left as Karlos swooped past her, a gleeful smirk on his face. Mandy, her dormmate and the only one among them truly comfortable on a broom, laughed as she dived low, skimming just over the grass before pulling up into a sharp ascent.

"You're too slow, Sallow!" Karlos taunted playfully as he weaved through the sky.

"Try saying that when I tag you!" Anne shot back, tightening her grip before shifting her weight and cutting through the air in pursuit. The wind rushed against her face, her golden-blonde hair whipping behind her as adrenaline thrummed through her veins. She laughed, exhilarated, as she nearly caught him-only for Mandy to dart in and tag her first.

She huffed in amusement before sparing a glance toward Neville Longbottom, who hovered nervously a few meters away, his chubby fingers trembling against the handle of his broom. Anne already knew what was supposed to happen today-his panic, the sudden fall, the painful snap of a broken wrist, and the infamous moment when Harry Potter would swoop in and catch the Remembrall in a spectacular dive, solidifying his place as the youngest Seeker in a century.

But Anne had decided otherwise. A subtle redirection charm, cast just as Neville's broom gave a violent lurch, ensured that instead of shooting upward, it merely wobbled and dropped him gently onto the grass. His landing wasn't graceful, but it wasn't disastrous either-just an awkward tumble and a face full of grass.

Madam Hooch strode over, frowning but relieved. "You alright, Longbottom?"

Neville nodded rapidly, cheeks flushed as he scrambled to his feet. "Yes, Madam Hooch."

Satisfied, she turned back to the rest of the class. "Well then, back on your brooms! We've got a lot more to cover!"

Anne smirked to herself as she resumed her game, satisfied with her intervention. Fate, after all, was not as unchangeable as the world liked to believe.

Admittedly, Anne's intentions weren't entirely noble. Sure, preventing a broken wrist was a nice side effect, but her real goal had been to see if she could alter the original storyline. Could she truly change the events she remembered, or was fate stubborn enough to course-correct?

So far, it seemed she had her answer-Neville had landed safely, and Potter's golden-boy moment had been stolen right from under him. No grand, spectacular catch. No instant Seeker fame. Just a slightly embarrassed Gryffindor with a face full of grass and a flying lesson that proceeded without major incident.

Anne wasn't afraid of canon going bonkers. The world was already messed up. Perhaps the fact that Draco Malfoy wasn't the same snotty-nosed brat she remembered from the books should have clued her in. He was still arrogant, but there was a quiet calculation behind his words, a sharpness to his eyes that went beyond simple schoolyard bullying. He didn't prance around flaunting his father's influence as much as she had expected, and his sneers lacked the same childish pettiness.

She suspected Karlos had something to do with that. The boy had a knack for making even the proudest pure-blood heirs pause and rethink their words. His mere presence threw off the expected order of things, like a pebble tossed into still water, rippling outward in unexpected ways.

Anne smirked as she leaned forward, darting after Karlos and Mandy once again, the rush of wind against her face keeping her grounded in the present. Messing with fate was going to be fun.

----------

A week into October, Anne sat at the Ravenclaw table, leisurely flipping through a book when Karlos leaned in close, his breath tickling her ear.

"You won't believe what I just heard," he whispered, eyes gleaming with mischief. "The Slytherin Queen and her court-Potter, Nott, Lestrange-accidentally wandered into the forbidden corridor on the third floor."

Anne stilled, though she wasn't surprised. She tilted her head slightly, pretending mild interest. "And?"

"Rumors say they ran into a Cerberus," Karlos continued, grinning like a cat with a fresh bowl of cream. "A real, three-headed monstrosity straight out of Greek mythology. They barely escaped with their lives, or so the whispers go."

Anne resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She highly doubted they had barely escaped. The Silver Court-as Karlos had dubbed them-weren't reckless fools. Rosaline Euphemia Potter, the so-called Slytherin Queen, was clever, and her three shadows were competent in their own right. If they had truly stumbled upon Fluffy, then it had likely been a calculated exploration rather than blind luck.

But, of course, it made sense that they would be the ones to find it. The night duel that was supposed to lure the original trio into the corridor hadn't happened, meaning the Silver Court had taken their place in discovering the grand secret of the year.

Anne hummed, flipping a page in her book. "Interesting."

Karlos gave her a knowing look. "That's all you have to say?"

"What do you want me to say?" She smirked. "That I'm shocked Hogwarts is hiding something dangerous behind a flimsy locked door? Please, Karlos, give me something actually scandalous."

Karlos laughed. "Fair point. But it does make you wonder-what's so important that the school has to station a literal beast to guard it?"

Anne already knew, of course. The Philosopher's Stone. But she wasn't about to share that. Instead, she merely shrugged. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

And if things continued to diverge from the story she remembered, well... all the better.

What did surprise Anne, however, was the sheer depth of Karlos's network-and the extent of his hidden loyalty.

He leaned back slightly, a satisfied glint in his eyes as he tapped his fingers lightly against the table. "I shut down the rumors before they reached any professors. Wouldn't want this turning into a spectacle, now would we?" His voice was light, almost casual, but Anne wasn't fooled.

"You shut them down?" she echoed, arching a brow.

Karlos smirked. "Naturally. A well-placed word here, a little redirection there... The right people now think it was just some over-exaggerated story. No one's running off to Snape or McGonagall. And, of course, I only told you."

Anne blinked, taking a moment to absorb that. He hadn't just heard the gossip-he had controlled it. Misdirected it. Protected their little circle from unwanted attention without being asked.

She hadn't expected that.

It was one thing for Karlos to be a masterful gossip, always weaving through whispers like a natural-born trickster. But this? This was calculated. This was loyalty. He hadn't spread the information for amusement or leverage-he had kept it contained, and only she had been deemed worthy of the truth.

For someone like Anne, who had spent much of her childhood building walls of self-reliance, that kind of quiet, unquestioned trust was... flattering. Almost dangerously so.

She allowed herself a small, genuine smile. "I'm impressed."

Karlos grinned. "As you should be."

Anne let out a soft chuckle, but inside, her thoughts were sharp and decisive. Karlos Hector Fawley was more than just an entertaining friend. He was a natural manipulator, a strategist with instincts honed sharper than most adults. He had just proven, without even realizing it, that he was someone worth investing in.

And so Anne made a silent decision. Karlos wasn't just going to be a friend. He was going to be an ally. A trusted one.

She had been careful about who she let into her confidence, but this moment sealed it-Karlos was worth the risk.

Naturally, the following Friday night found Anne fastening her cloak with practiced ease, the dim candlelight of the common room flickering against the enchanted ceiling. She glanced over her shoulder at Karlos, who stood beside her, sluggishly rubbing his eyes.

Karlos sighed, tugging his own cloak tighter as he followed Anne through the darkened corridors. "You do realize we have class tomorrow, right?"

Anne smirked. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want to miss out on something actually interesting?"

He huffed but didn't argue. Instead, he quickened his pace to match hers, his curiosity finally overriding his sleepiness. "At least tell me where we're sneaking off to."

She shot him a knowing glance but kept walking. The castle was eerily quiet at this hour, the torches flickering low, casting long shadows across the stone walls. They moved with careful steps, avoiding the creaky spots on the floor as they wound their way toward the third floor.

It wasn't long before Karlos put the pieces together. His drowsiness faded entirely as they approached the forbidden corridor. "Oh," he whispered, realization dawning. "We're checking out the Cerberus."

Anne grinned. "Took you long enough."

Karlos gave her a look somewhere between exasperation and excitement, but he said nothing more as they reached the heavy double doors that led to Hogwarts' best-kept secret-at least for now.

Standing outside the door that separated them from the Cerberus, Anne and Karlos exchanged a look, their earlier excitement tempered by the sheer audacity of what they were about to do. The thick wooden door loomed before them, its surface unassuming-but Anne could feel the magic woven into it. Wards, layered and complex, designed to keep out the curious and the foolish.

It wasn't difficult to conclude that a single misstep could alert Dumbledore. Unlike the Potter children, who could probably get away with sneaking around due to their narrative importance, Anne and Karlos had no such luxury. They were just two first-years who, by all accounts, should have no business here. If they got caught, there would be no grand destiny to shield them-just a one-way trip to a very uncomfortable meeting with the Headmaster.

Karlos exhaled slowly, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by something more calculating. "You sure about this?"

Anne hesitated. Not out of fear-no, fear had never stopped her before. But she wasn't foolish enough to disregard the weight of what they were attempting. It wasn't about whether they could do it. It was about whether the risk was worth the reward.

Still, she had already made it this far.

Taking out the long metal hairpin from her braided hair, Anne twirled it between her fingers before inserting it into the keyhole. She had no illusions about this actually working-Dumbledore wasn't that careless-but she figured it was worth testing.

With a few practiced twists and prods, she felt the faintest click.

The door didn't swing open-of course not-but the fact that it had even reacted at all made her blink. She had expected the wards to outright reject any non-magical interference, perhaps even alerting a professor, but instead... it was as if the door's enchantments hadn't accounted for Muggle lockpicking at all.

Karlos let out a soft snort beside her. "You've got to be joking."

Anne pulled the hairpin back and raised a brow. "Dumbledore should really apply some anti-Muggle methods next time."

"Or at least pretend to make it harder for Muggle-born criminals like you," he murmured, watching as she reached for her wand next.

With the physical lock bypassed, it was time to deal with the real problem-the layers of magical security still humming against the wood. Anne had no intention of stepping inside, but she wanted to understand exactly what kind of protections were in place.

After all, knowing how a door was locked was just as important as unlocking it.

Subtly letting out a tendril of her ancient magic, seamlessly weaving it with her wand magic, Anne let herself feel the wards rather than simply analyzing them.

Immediately, the familiar hum of basic protections made themselves known-anti-intruder charms, alarm spells that would alert the Headmaster if anything went wrong, and other standard security enchantments she had read about in her family's library. These were the kinds of protections any competent wizard could cast.

But beyond those, deeper and far more intricate, she felt something older.

Anne's breath slowed as she focused. These wards weren't just cast with a wand. No, they pulsed with a power that felt rooted-like they had been imbued into the very stones of the castle through an object rather than mere spellwork. The sensation was unlike anything she had encountered before, a strange mix of familiar and foreign.

Her fingers twitched slightly as the thrill of discovery coursed through her. This wasn't just some ordinary locked door-it held a mystery, a puzzle waiting to be unraveled. And Anne loved puzzles.

"Well?" Karlos whispered, his voice barely audible.

Anne withdrew her magic, a slow smirk curling her lips. "Interesting," she murmured.

Karlos rolled his eyes. "You always say that when you find something dangerous."

"That's because the best things are dangerous."

His sigh was equal parts exasperation and amusement, but Anne's mind was already racing. She didn't just want to know what lay beyond this door-she wanted to understand how it was being protected.

And more importantly, who had placed those older wards in the first place.

Having sent out the outline of the magical signature, Anne committed the intricate pulses to memory. The way the magic thrummed, layered over itself in patterns she had never quite seen before, left a lingering curiosity in her mind. This wasn't just any ordinary warding-this was something older, perhaps even predating Dumbledore's involvement entirely.

She withdrew her magic slowly, ensuring she left no trace behind.

Karlos, who had been watching her with his usual mix of fascination and wariness, raised a brow. "Well?"

Anne dusted off her hands as if she had just finished a particularly engaging puzzle. "I think it's time for a trip to the Restricted Section."

His expression immediately flattened. "Of course you do."

She grinned. "Oh, come on, don't pretend you're not curious."

"I am curious. I also enjoy not getting caught and spending the rest of the year cleaning cauldrons."

Anne waved off his concerns, already planning the best way to slip past Madam Pince's watchful eyes. "It'll be fine. We'll be in and out before anyone notices."

Karlos muttered something under his breath but didn't protest further.

Because at the end of the day, they both knew he'd be right there beside her when she made her move.

Karlos studied Anne carefully, his sharp grey eyes searching hers before he spoke. "Do you trust me?"

Anne blinked, momentarily thrown by the question.

Of course I do.

Trust was always up to the creator, and Karlos had more than proven himself worthy of it. He was cunning, resourceful, and, most importantly, loyal. She gave him a small, knowing smile. "Obviously."

Karlos exhaled, as if that was all he needed to hear, before stepping forward. "Then move aside."

Anne arched a brow but obeyed, stepping to the side as he took her place in front of the door. She watched with interest as he lifted his wand, eyes flickering with concentration.

A moment later, magic pulsed from him-not as controlled as hers, but no less powerful.

It was raw, instinctive.

The wards reacted immediately. For a split second, Anne swore she saw them ripple, like the surface of a disturbed lake. Then, without warning, a burst of colorful fireworks exploded from Karlos' wand-scarlet, emerald, and gold sparks crackling in the dim corridor.

The door responded in kind, its own magic mirroring the reaction, as if recognizing something in him.

Anne's lips parted slightly. Well, that's new.

Karlos lowered his wand, his expression unreadable. "Huh."

"Huh?" Anne repeated, stepping back beside him. "That's all you have to say?"

He turned to her, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips. "You're the expert on weird magic. You tell me what just happened."

Anne glanced back at the door, her mind already racing. Whatever this was, it wasn't just a simple reaction-it was recognition.

And that was very interesting.

Anne turned to Karlos, narrowing her eyes slightly. "You're not secretly the heir of some big founder, are you?"

Karlos let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Of course not. If I was, my family would've already let the whole wizarding world know." He smirked. "Probably in an obnoxiously long article in The Daily Prophet."

Anne hummed, glancing back at the door. "Well, whatever that was, Hogwarts' magic just recognized you." She tapped her chin, her mind buzzing with possibilities. "And I don't want to seem crazy, but that has to mean something."

Karlos tilted his head, considering her words. "Or maybe the castle just has a fantastic sense of taste." He shot her a wink.

Anne rolled her eyes but couldn't deny the lingering curiosity curling in her chest. Magic didn't just react to someone for no reason. Hogwarts had recognized Karlos.

The question was-why?

Karlos let out a sigh, slipping his wand back into his robes. "Let's go back to the dorms. We've done enough research for tonight."

Anne exhaled, still staring at the door, her fingers itching to keep investigating. But he had a point. "You're right," she admitted. "We just have to come back later."

Karlos gave her a wary look. "Later?"

"Yes, later-after we've done our full research," she clarified. "Then we're going to explore it properly."

He crossed his arms. "Mm-hmm. If that is so."

Anne huffed a quiet laugh. "Of course! Now that we've come this far, I cannot just leave a mystery like this unsolved. I'd be itching for a decade."

Karlos shook his head, amused. "Sure. But I'm not sneaking into the Restricted Section tonight." He gave her a pointed look. "Let's do it tomorrow, okay?"

Anne grinned. "Fine. Tomorrow."

With that, they turned away from the door, retreating quietly into the shadows of the castle, the thrill of discovery still buzzing between them.

Saturday was a surprisingly sunny day for October, the kind of crisp autumn morning that made Hogwarts' stone corridors feel less like a drafty maze and more like a cozy sanctuary. Anne could feel the warmth of the sunlight filtering through the high-arched windows, kissing her skin as she idly twirled a quill between her fingers.

Across from her, Karlos was hunched over his Charms assignment, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. They had tucked themselves away on the second floor of the library, safely out of Madam Pince's line of sight. A precaution more for Anne's sake than his-he was actually doing his work, after all.

Anne, on the other hand, was far too preoccupied with something much more important: sneaking into the Restricted Section.

She tapped her quill against her parchment, thoughts racing. Their last visit to the third-floor corridor had left her with too many questions. The wards, the door's reaction to Karlos, and the strange way Hogwarts' magic had recognized him-it all demanded answers. And answers could only be found in the forbidden tomes lurking behind the iron gate of the Restricted Section.

The mere thought of finally getting her hands on those books made her shiver with anticipation. Oh, the sweet, sweet glory of conquering forbidden knowledge!

Now, all that was left was figuring out how they were going to do it.

Anne glanced at Karlos, who was still scribbling away, blissfully unaware of the grand schemes unfolding in her head.

"So," she mused, breaking the silence, "how do you feel about committing minor academic crimes tonight?"

Karlos barely glanced up from his parchment, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Confident enough-since you will be the one crafting the plan instead of me."

Anne grinned. "Smart answer."

He finally set down his quill and leaned back. "Have you got a plan?"

She feigned offense, placing a hand over her chest. "Why not?"

Karlos just gave her a flat look. "Anne."

Anne chuckled and leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Alright, here's the plan."

The Plan

Step One: Distraction.

Madam Pince was a menace, but she was still human. And like all humans, she had weaknesses-specifically, her absolute devotion to keeping the library in perfect order. Anne had noticed that whenever a book was even slightly out of place, she had to fix it immediately.

So, she'd enchant a few books on the first floor to rearrange themselves at random intervals. Not enough to be immediately suspicious, just enough to keep her occupied.

Step Two: The Cloak.

Anne had been perfecting her Disillusionment Charm. It wasn't as flawless as an Invisibility Cloak, but with Karlos keeping watch and a little careful maneuvering, she could slip past the gate unnoticed.

Step Three: The Decoy.

If all else failed, they needed a failsafe. Mandy, Anne's roommate, owed her a favor from last week's Potions mishap. If they got caught, Anne could signal Mandy to cause a scene-something simple, like a fake argument or a loud crash-giving her and Karlos time to slip away unnoticed.

Anne finished outlining her plan, her lavender eyes gleaming with excitement. "See? Foolproof."

Karlos raised a brow. "Foolproof, huh?"

She nodded confidently.

He exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Why do I let you drag me into things?"

Anne smirked. "Because you're just as curious as I am."

Karlos muttered something under his breath but didn't argue.

After all, they both knew he was definitely coming along.

Convincing Mandy had been laughably easy. Anne had given her the bare minimum of details-just enough to pique her curiosity without making her suspicious. A small favor, a minor distraction, nothing too serious. Mandy had agreed with little hesitation, which was good.

Now came the hard part-waiting.

Sitting in the library at 8 o'clock, pretending to be engrossed in a book while keeping an eye on Madam Pince, was far more agonizing than Anne had anticipated. The librarian was obviously agitated about something-pacing near the Restricted Section, muttering under her breath, occasionally shooting wary glances around the room.

Anne gritted her teeth. This was not ideal.

Maybe they should wait. Maybe she was being too eager. If Pince was already on edge, the risk of getting caught was much higher.

But then again... curiosity gnawed at her. The Restricted Section was right there. They had a plan. They had a failsafe. If they hesitated now, they might not get another chance.

Anne took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "Let's just take the risk this once," she murmured, mostly to herself. "After all... you only live once."

Karlos, sitting beside her, didn't even look up from his book as he sighed. "That is such a Gryffindor thing to say."

Anne smirked. "And yet, here you are, still going along with it."

He shot her a look. "Against my better judgment."

Anne just grinned. "Come on. It's time."

They slipped their wands into their sleeves and got ready. Tonight, they would conquer the Restricted Section.

--------

Anne couldn't believe it. The plan had actually worked.

She and Karlos stood among the towering, dust-laden bookshelves of the Restricted Section, the air thick with the scent of ancient parchment and ink. Dim lanterns flickered along the stone walls, casting eerie shadows that danced across the tomes lining the shelves.

She grinned. "I can't believe that actually worked."

Karlos huffed, crossing his arms. "You planned for it to work."

"Yes, but still," she whispered excitedly, glancing around at the forbidden knowledge surrounding them. "It's one thing to plan and another to actually pull it off."

How They Did It:

Step One: The Distraction.

Madam Pince had already been on edge, which worked both for and against them. Anne took full advantage of her obsessive need for order. Earlier in the evening, she had discreetly enchanted several bookshelves on the first floor to shuffle their contents every few minutes-nothing drastic, just enough to create mild chaos.

As expected, it drove Pince mad.

At precisely 7:55 PM, the books started their dance. One moment a dusty tome on Wandlore Through the Ages was comfortably nestled in its place, and the next, it had swapped spots with A Compendium of Cursed Objects, throwing off the entire organizational system.

Anne and Karlos had watched as the librarian nearly combusted on the spot. With an exasperated sigh, she had marched off to investigate, grumbling about "insufferable meddling ghosts" and "ungrateful students with no respect for the sanctity of books".

Step Two: The Cloak (or Lack Thereof).

Without an invisibility cloak, Anne had relied on her Disillusionment Charm. It wasn't perfect-yet-but in the dim lighting and with Karlos acting as lookout, it had been enough to get past the iron gate.

Karlos, meanwhile, had taken the more brazen approach. He had simply walked in while Madam Pince was distracted. Apparently, his Fawley name carried just enough weight that, if caught, he could feign ignorance and claim he was looking for something for an essay.

Anne still wasn't sure whether to be impressed or mildly irritated by how effortlessly he could get away with things.

Step Three: The Decoy.

Mandy, stationed near the library entrance, had been their failsafe. If Pince had returned too soon or if they had made too much noise, Mandy would have 'accidentally' caused a loud commotion-a toppled stack of books, a spilled ink bottle, anything to divert attention.

Luckily, it hadn't come to that.

And now, here they were.

Anne's fingers twitched in anticipation as she ran her hand along the spine of an old leather-bound book. The Restricted Section was hers to explore.

Karlos, standing beside her, sighed. "Alright, you got us in. Now what?"

Anne smirked. "Now?" She pulled a book from the shelf, dust swirling in the air as she opened it. "Now we see what secrets Hogwarts has been hiding from us."

Between the dust, the dim lighting, and the absolute avalanche of deeply unhelpful books, Anne and Karlos were beginning to wonder if they had, perhaps, overestimated their abilities as master scholars and criminal masterminds.

Karlos, perched on a rickety wooden stool, groaned and tossed another book into their growing pile of disappointment.

"The Noble Art of Dueling: How to Win with Flair and Minimal Bloodshed."

Anne, leaning against a nearby shelf, glanced up. "That sounds vaguely useful?"

"It dedicates an entire chapter to 'The Proper Way to Monologue After Victory.'"

"Okay, yeah, never mind."

She stretched, rubbing her eyes before picking up the only somewhat promising book they had found-a weathered tome with Asiatic script on the cover. Unlike the other books, which had taken great offense to being touched (hissing, screaming, or attempting to bite), this one had practically flung itself off the shelf into Anne's hands.

That was probably a bad sign.

Karlos, now slumped dramatically against the nearest table, peeked over. "What's that?"

"Something actually interesting," Anne mused, flipping through the crisp, timeworn pages. "It mentions some wizard named Garrick Hedgecombe, famous in the 13th century for his work on enchanting objects-mostly protective charms and magical locks."

Karlos sat up straighter. "Locks?"

"Yep. And apparently, his work was influenced by eastern magic that wasn't widely used in Europe back then." She tapped a passage with her finger. "Turns out the Silk Road was a lot more magical than history lets on."

Karlos leaned in, intrigued. "Are you telling me medieval European wizards were just importing their best enchantments?"

Anne smirked. "Basically. Half of the so-called 'great innovations' in defensive magic? Bought, borrowed, or outright stolen from Asian, Middle Eastern, and North African sorcerers."

Karlos huffed a laugh. "We really just said 'cultural appropriation but make it arcane.'"

"Pretty much."

They lapsed into silence, both staring at the book with newfound respect.

Then Karlos frowned. "Wait. If the enchantment on the Third Floor Corridor door is based on this kind of magic..."

Anne finished his thought. "Then most British wizards wouldn't recognize it, let alone know how to break it."

Karlos sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "So we learned why we don't understand it, but not how to get past it."

Anne shut the book with a definitive thump. "That sounds like a problem for Future Us."

Karlos groaned. "Future Us already hates Present Us."

"Future Us needs to have some grit."

"Future Us is going to need therapy."

"That's a Future Us problem, too."

Anne carefully traced the faded ink of the ancient text with her finger, her excitement growing as she read. Garrick Hedgecombe had, by sheer accident, created an unbreakable warded space while attempting to replicate an eastern character-a kanji or Chinese glyph-he hadn't fully understood. The result? A locket that, when placed in an area, completely sealed it off from outside interference.

Anne's mind raced. Ancient? Check. Not well-known? Check. Ridiculously powerful? Check.

It was eerily similar to the magic on the Third Floor Corridor door.

She exchanged a glance with Karlos, who was scanning the text over her shoulder, his grey eyes flicking between the words and her expression.

"You're thinking what I'm thinking, aren't you?" he asked.

"If you're thinking that this guy accidentally stumbled onto a near-impenetrable magical defense and it's probably what's on that door, then yes."

Karlos let out a low whistle. "So what you're saying is... a 13th-century wizard made a magical padlock by accident."

"Basically."

Karlos stared at the book. "That is both impressive and deeply annoying."

Anne smirked. "Feeling threatened?"

"I just think it's unfair that this man tripped over history and we have to actually try."

Anne chuckled and tucked the book under her arm. "Well, at least we have a lead now."

With their first real breakthrough, they finally started making their way back through the Restricted Section.

It was going so well.

Too well.

Anne had the brilliant idea to quickly copy some of the book's contents onto parchment using a transcription spell. Because, obviously, stealing from the Restricted Section was fine, but at least they weren't taking the whole book, right?

Wrong.

The second she flicked her wand, the book shuddered violently in her hands before launching itself into the air and screaming at her.

"HOW DARE YOU! HAVE YOU NO RESPECT FOR KNOWLEDGE, YOU INSOLENT CHILD?!"

Anne, stunned, could only gape as the book whipped itself through the air like an enraged poltergeist.

Karlos, meanwhile, was crying with laughter.

The book was not done.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST COPY ME LIKE A COMMON TEXTBOOK? I AM A CENTURIES-OLD RECORD OF ARCANE SECRETS! I DESERVE BETTER!"

Anne, trying to salvage the situation, whispered frantically, "I'm sorry! Please be quiet!"

The book ignored her.

"AND YOUR SPELLWORK? ABSOLUTELY ATROCIOUS! YOU DIDN'T EVEN FINISH THE INCANTATION PROPERLY! YOUR CALLIGRAPHY SKILLS ARE ABYSMAL!"

Karlos, wiping tears from his eyes, wheezed, "It has a point, you know."

Anne whipped around. "Not. Now. Karlos."

"IF THIS IS THE FUTURE OF WIZARDING EDUCATION, I DESPAIR FOR THE WORLD."

Anne snatched the book out of the air and shoved it back onto the shelf, where it huffed indignantly before going silent.

Karlos clapped her on the back. "Good to know books have standards."

Anne glared at him. "I hope you trip on the stairs."

With that, they fled the Restricted Section, Anne feeling mostly satisfied with their findings-aside from the mild verbal abuse from an enchanted manuscript and the fact that Karlos agreed with it.

---

The next few weeks at Hogwarts were a seamless blend of academic brilliance, late-night sneaking, and carefully avoiding getting caught.

By now, sneaking into the Restricted Section had become second nature.

They had refined their method into a perfectly synchronized operation:

1. Anne caused a distraction-usually by subtly charming bookshelves to rearrange themselves, causing absolute chaos.

2. Karlos used Disillusionment to sneak in, grab whatever book they needed, and slip back out before Madam Pince even realized what was happening.

By day, Anne and Karlos were the undisputed stars of their classes. By night, they were midnight burglars, slipping past prefects and enchanted suits of armor, determined to uncover the mystery of the Third Floor Corridor.

And somehow, despite the sheer insanity of their schedules, they still found time to judge other people's drama.

If anyone had asked Anne and Karlos how their time at Hogwarts was going, they would have replied with very different answers.

To their professors, they were model students-exceptionally bright, quick-witted, and alarmingly ahead of their peers.

To their classmates, they were insufferably good at everything, the kind of people who didn't just get full marks, but broke the curve while looking effortlessly elegant about it.

To each other, they were partners in crime, determined to unlock the secrets of the Third Floor Corridor-preferably without getting expelled.

---

"Levitation is about control, precision, and intent," Professor Flitwick announced, standing on his desk as he waved his wand. "Now, class, remember the swish and flick!"

Anne barely heard him. She had already mastered the spell weeks ago and was now engaged in a silent duel with Karlos using floating quills.

She guided hers with subtle flicks of her wand, trying to knock his out of the air.

Karlos, as smug as ever, dodged effortlessly, his quill dancing just beyond her reach.

"Honestly, Anne," he whispered, "this is embarrassing for you."

"Oh, I'll show you embarrassing." With a delicate movement, she sent five quills at him at once.

Karlos barely managed to deflect them before they stabbed him in the face.

Professor Flitwick, meanwhile, was watching in fascination.

"Ah, most excellent wandwork! Though, Miss Sallow, I must remind you that this is not a dueling club."

Anne smiled sweetly. "Apologies, Professor. Karlos and I were just... testing advanced applications of the charm."

Karlos gave an innocent nod. "Purely theoretical, of course."

The rest of the class, who were still struggling to lift their first quill, glared at them in exhausted resentment.

---

In Transfiguration, Karlos was equally unbearable.

Anne watched in irritation as he turned a teacup into a perfectly sculpted tortoise and back again with zero effort.

McGonagall barely even blinked at this point. "Mr. Fawley, please do not attempt Animagus-level transformations until your fifth year."

Karlos flashed a winning smile. "Wouldn't dream of it, Professor."

Anne, sitting next to him, muttered, "Liar."

Karlos grinned. "You know me so well."

Anne, rolling her eyes, took her turn-and Transfigured two teacups at once.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

Karlos, unbothered, leaned toward her and whispered, "Is this a competition?"

Anne whispered back, "It's always a competition."

---

Potions was where Snape had no choice but to tolerate them.

"At least one of you is competent," Snape muttered as he inspected their flawless Draught of Peace. "It is a miracle, truly."

Anne and Karlos exchanged a victorious glance.

"Professor," Anne said sweetly, "we do try our best."

Snape stared at her in utter disbelief. "Miss Sallow, your 'best' is more tolerable than most, which is not a compliment."

Karlos barely contained his smirk. "So... it's more of an observation?"

Snape's eye twitched. "Get. Out."

Anne dragged Karlos away before he could say anything else.

"That was unnecessarily bold," she hissed.

"It was entirely necessary," Karlos replied.

---

Defense Against the Dark Arts was, unfortunately, a joke.

Quirrell stammered his way through lessons, and Anne often wondered if she'd absorb more knowledge from a textbook and a quiet room.

"The B-B-Bogey Hex is v-v-very useful in dueling," Quirrell mumbled, completely failing to demonstrate it.

Anne sighed. "Honestly, I'd rather be back in Potions."

Karlos, who had just corrected Quirrell's stance on a Shield Charm, whispered back, "This is tragic."

"You're going to give him a breakdown," Anne whispered.

"He deserves it."

---

Between classes, Anne and Karlos still found time to observe the chaos of Hogwarts social life.

One lunchtime, they sat across from Reinhard Lestrange and Danton Dolohov, who were, as usual, pining over Rosaline Potter.

"Rosaline," Reinhard announced dramatically, "I have written you a poem about the beauty of serpentine whispers."

Rosaline blinked. "...Are you alright?"

Danton, not missing a beat, slammed his goblet down. "What my esteemed friend means to say, Rosaline, is that your elegance is unmatched!"

Anne leaned toward Karlos. "Should we stop this?"

Karlos, watching the disaster unfold, shook his head. "No. This is gold."

---

Despite their academic brilliance and relentless judging of others, Anne and Karlos never lost sight of their real goal.

Each night, they sneaked to the Third Floor Corridor, carefully analyzing the magic on the door.

Each week, they found one more clue-one more thread connecting their research to Garrick Hedgecombe and his enchanted locket.

They were close.

And, miraculously, still undetected.

For now.

Anne was beginning to think she had actually changed the timeline. Weeks had passed, and Harry Potter and his merry band of misfits had yet to stumble upon Fluffy. Maybe, just maybe, all of her and Karlos's sneaking around had somehow altered things.

Then Karlos stormed into the library, looking uncharacteristically grim.

Anne barely had time to raise an eyebrow before he dropped his books onto the table with a thud.

"They found it."

Anne blinked. "Found what?"

Karlos exhaled through his nose, eyes dark with frustration. "The cerebrus."

Anne leaned forward. "Who?"

"Harry. Ron. Hermione." Karlos said the last name like it personally offended him.

There was a long pause.

Anne rested her chin on her hand. "Karlos, let me get this straight. While we-two highly capable, intelligent individuals-have been sneaking around at midnight, practically living in the Restricted Section, breaking who knows how many school rules trying to decode ancient magic, these three idiots just... stumbled into the Cerberus by accident?"

Karlos stared at her, dead serious. "YES."

Anne sighed. "You see, Karlos, there is this thing called protagonist luck and the favoritism of the universe." She gave him a solemn look. "And we, unfortunately, do not possess these."

Karlos slumped into the chair across from her, glaring at nothing. "Ridiculous considering the fact that my uncle always said I was the Son of Destiny, having the Fawley name. Not like anyone in my family ever let me believe it though."

Anne's heart clenched at the brief flash of pain in Karlos's eyes before he buried it beneath that neutral mask-the one she had come to recognize as his way of hiding unease, of swallowing down grief. A kind of grief that felt too deep, too old for someone their age.

And Anne panicked.

Karlos was sad, and that was bewildering, and-worse than that-it physically hurt her to see him like this. Karlos was supposed to be arrogant and sharp-tongued and always one step ahead with his quick wit and insufferable smirk. Not this. Never this.

Anne wanted him to smile. Always and forever. Because if he was happy, then she could be happy too.

And-oh.

The realization hit her like a rogue Bludger to the ribs.

She was already too attached.

There was no stepping back from this connection, no pretending she wasn't already hopelessly tangled in Karlos Hector Fawley's orbit. And that was terrifying.

But right now, she had bigger problems. Like changing the topic before she did something stupid.

Anne took a deep breath, forced her voice into lightness, and leaned forward.

"Well, son of destiny, if you're done brooding, we still have an ancient magical door to break into."

Anne crossed her arms and tapped her fingers against her elbow, deep in thought. "You know, Karlos, I've been thinking."

"That's dangerous," Karlos muttered.

Anne ignored him. "The Potters are definitely Dumbledore's favorites, right?"

Karlos exhaled dramatically. "Obviously."

"No, but like-actually. I'm starting to think they're literally key to the school's wards. That's the only explanation for why Harry and his little gang keep stumbling into places they shouldn't."

Karlos narrowed his eyes. "You think the castle just... lets them in?"

"I mean, look at the evidence!" Anne gestured wildly. "We've spent weeks sneaking around, studying ancient magic, researching a literal 13th-century enchanter, and what do we have to show for it? Theoretical knowledge. Meanwhile, Potter trips over a rug, and-bam! Secret Cerberus unlocked."

Karlos was silent for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, in a rare moment of quiet acceptance, he sighed.

As the Great Hall buzzed with excitement over the upcoming Halloween feast, Anne turned to Karlos with a thoughtful expression.

"Karlos," she said, tapping her fingers against the table. "You have an obnoxiously large library at Fawley Manor, right?"

Karlos smirked. "I prefer the term extensive and well-curated, but yes."

"Great," Anne said, leaning in. "Then you can explain some actual Halloween lore from Magical History. None of the watered-down, Muggle-influenced nonsense."

Karlos's smirk widened. "Ah, so you've finally come to appreciate my brilliance."

Anne rolled her eyes. "I'm giving you a chance to show off, Fawley. Take it or leave it."

Karlos placed a hand over his heart dramatically. "Anne, you wound me. Of course, I accept."

Anne grinned. "Good. Now, start talking."

Karlos steepled his fingers, his tone slipping into that perfectly polished, aristocratic lecture mode he loved so much.

"All Hallows' Eve was quite mundane up until the 19th century," he began. "It was fervently celebrated across the wizarding world as a time to honor the dead and appease nature spirits. In Northern Africa, shamans-particularly those born with innate connections to these spirits-were revered as absolute power figures for the entire moon cycle. People made offerings to them, which included food, their richest cattle, and, occasionally, slaves."

Anne blinked. "...Slaves?"

Karlos didn't miss a beat. "Yes, in return for blessings and the chance to develop a deeper connection to death."

Anne pursed her lips. "Uh-huh. Lovely."

Karlos continued, unfazed. "Meanwhile, in Eastern Europe, Samhain was more about flesh offerings. Blood and sex under the moon were considered essential for certain death rituals. In fact, this practice is widely believed to be the most plausible cause for the creation of vampires."

Anne blinked twice. "You're saying vampires exist because of some Eastern European death cult's questionable life choices?"

"Essentially, yes," Karlos said, looking obnoxiously pleased with himself.

Anne exhaled. "Of course. Please, do go on."

"Gladly." Karlos smirked. "Most maidens in Eastern Europe lost their virginities on Samhain, either as part of powerful rituals or simply because it was considered auspicious."

Anne snorted. "Auspicious? What, were they like, 'Oh wow, tonight's a great night for a shag-very mystical, very spiritual'?"

Karlos gave her a slow, amused look. "You mock, but historically speaking, yes."

Anne's mind immediately latched onto the concept of virginity as a ritual catalyst, not because of any particularly nefarious intentions-no, no, of course not-but because it was, in her opinion, a grossly underutilized resource.

Powerful rituals required rare, expensive, or impossible-to-acquire ingredients. Dragon hearts, phoenix feathers, unicorn blood-stuff that required a trip to Knockturn Alley at best and a lifetime in Azkaban at worst. And here Karlos was, sitting across from her with his usual "I know everything and you don't" expression, casually dropping the information that the "pure essence of maidenhood" or whatever could substitute for incredibly rare catalysts.

Her first instinct was scientific curiosity.

Her second instinct was suspicion.

"Wait," she said, narrowing her eyes. "You're telling me virginity offerings can offset powerful rituals?"

Karlos, of course, misread the reason for her interest entirely.

"I'll have you know, Anne dear," he said, leaning back in his chair with a knowing smirk, "that virginity offerings are the most powerful catalyst in ritual magic."

And that was when Anne's third instinct kicked in-mischief.

"Huh. Interesting." She let the words hang there, deliberately vague.

Karlos froze.

Anne saw it. She saw the exact moment his brain started going somewhere terrible. His grey eyes narrowed, his lips parted slightly, and she could practically hear the gears in his head grinding, shifting, making the absolute worst possible conclusion.

"Why?" His voice had that careful, aristocratic politeness that he used whenever he was deeply concerned about something. "Interested?"

There was a beat of silence.

Then Anne-bless her soul, Anne-tilted her head and just stared.

Blankly. Unblinkingly.

The way a predator would look at an animal caught in a trap.

Karlos felt something cold settle in his stomach. He had made a mistake.

"Annie." He didn't like how his voice sounded. Nervous.

Anne didn't blink.

"Annie, no."

Still, she didn't blink.

She tapped her chin, as if pondering something very carefully. Too carefully.

"So, theoretically-"

"Absolutely not." Karlos practically hissed the words, hands gripping the table as if the wood itself could shield him from whatever monstrosity of an idea was brewing in Anne's head.

Anne let out a long, drawn-out sigh, tilting her head dramatically. "You're so dramatic, Karlos. It's just theory.**"

"So was the vampire thing," Karlos snapped, his voice laced with betrayal, "and look how that turned out!"

Anne smirked, pleased with herself. "Touché."

The conversation was cut short as the Great Hall burst into life, the long tables magically filling with mountains of Halloween treats-pumpkin pasties, treacle tarts, cauldron cakes, and every variety of wizarding candy imaginable.

Karlos immediately abandoned all pretense of aristocratic composure and lunged for the nearest plate of sweets, shoving a sugar quill into his mouth like a starved goblin. His usually pristine manners evaporated as he ravenously attacked the desserts, stacking his plate high with chocolate frogs, licorice wands, and jelly slugs.

Anne, on the other hand, wrinkled her nose at the sheer immaturity on display. The Ravenclaw table had become a feeding frenzy, first-years giggling as they stuffed their mouths with sweets, some of the younger students even having duels with licorice wands.

She turned back to Karlos, who was currently engaged in a very serious battle with a particularly feisty chocolate frog. It had launched itself toward his face, and instead of deterring him, Karlos had simply bitten it mid-air, looking insufferably pleased with himself as the rest of the frog twitched on his plate.

Anne sighed. Deeply.

"You are the heir of a Marquesal House," she reminded him. "A refined scholar. A prodigy."

Karlos, mouth full of nougat, blinked at her. "Mmhm?"

Anne narrowed her eyes. "And yet, here you are, acting like a child who has never seen sugar before."

Karlos chewed pointedly. Swallowed. Then, very deliberately, he picked up a pumpkin pasty, took a slow, exaggerated bite, and moaned.

"You don't understand, Anne," he said, pure bliss on his face. "This is divine. This is art. This is a blessing from Merlin himself."

Anne closed her eyes, inhaled, and counted to ten.

Across the table, Theodore Nott was using two floating chocolate frogs as drumsticks while Reinhard Lestrange was calmly sipping his pumpkin juice, pretending to have no association with the madness around him.

Anne let out another long-suffering sigh.

Maybe she was the one who had been born in the wrong House.

Anne sighed, propping her chin on her hand as she subtly scanned the Gryffindor table. Empty seats. No Harry Potter. No Ron Weasley. No Hermione Granger.

Ah. It was happening.

Anne knew exactly what this meant. Somewhere in the castle, an actual mountain troll was currently stomping around, probably sniffing out its next meal, and three thirteen-year-olds were about to enact some of the worst decision-making in Hogwarts history.

She turned her gaze back to the feast, where the rest of the students were blissfully ignorant, stuffing themselves with sweets while certain death lurked just a few corridors away.

Karlos, who had moved on to his fifth pumpkin pasty, noticed her sudden tension and paused mid-bite.

"Anne," he said, swallowing. "You're doing that thing again."

Anne blinked. "What thing?"

Karlos waved a hand vaguely. "The 'I know something ominous is happening, but I'm not going to say anything because nobody would believe me' thing."

Anne frowned. "I do not-"

"You do," Karlos said. "You look at something, make that deeply exasperated face, sigh like you're the only intelligent person in the world, and then let fate run its course like some kind of omniscient bystander."

Anne opened her mouth. Closed it. Then muttered, "I don't sigh that much."

Karlos raised an eyebrow. "Anne. You sighed four times in the last minute alone."

Anne scowled. "That's because you were-"

"-chewing too loudly?" Karlos guessed. "Drinking pumpkin juice in an offensive manner? Oh! Or was it my irresponsible consumption of licorice wands?"

Anne huffed, crossing her arms. "You joke, but there is an actual troll in the castle right now."

Karlos stared at her for a long second. Then, still chewing, he very calmly said:

"...I beg your pardon?"

Just as Karlos was processing the absolute absurdity of Anne's statement, the doors to the Great Hall slammed open with a loud BANG!

Professor Quirrell stumbled in, his turban askew, face pale as a ghost, and his expression that of a man who had just seen his entire life flash before his eyes.

"TROLL!" he shrieked, his voice cracking. "TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!"

A dramatic pause.

Then, as if that weren't concerning enough, he added, "Thought you ought to know."

And with that, he fainted.

For a second, silence.

Then- absolute pandemonium.

Screams. Shouts. The clattering of silverware as students bolted from their seats in a blind panic. A Hufflepuff girl stood on her chair, wailing about imminent death. Someone knocked over an entire plate of treacle tart, and a third-year Ravenclaw actually tried to crawl under the table for safety.

Anne, watching the chaos unfold, simply exhaled through her nose.

Karlos, gripping the edge of the table, turned to her and whispered, "I hate it when you're right."

Anne patted his shoulder. "Don't panic."

Karlos gestured at the screaming mass of students. "Anne. That is quite literally the only thing happening right now."

At the front of the Hall, Dumbledore rose to his feet, raising his hands for silence.

"SILENCE!"

His voice boomed across the Hall, carrying that unspoken authority that immediately commanded attention.

The panic settled into uneasy murmuring.

Dumbledore's expression was calm, as though this was a mild inconvenience rather than a situation where a large, angry troll was currently roaming the castle.

"Prefects," he said, his tone even. "Lead your houses back to your dormitories immediately. Teachers, follow me to the dungeons."

Anne, already knowing what was about to happen, merely waited.

And, as expected, Roseline Potter raised her hand.

"Professor," she said, sounding just a little exasperated, "aren't the Hufflepuff and Slytherin dormitories in the dungeons? Wouldn't that be, uh... dangerous?"

Dumbledore blinked.

A pause.

Then, as if just realizing the oversight, he nodded. "Yes, yes, of course. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, to your dormitories. Hufflepuff and Slytherin, remain here."

Anne let out a tiny snort.

Karlos muttered, "That's our esteemed headmaster for you."

Anne hummed in agreement.

With relative calm restored, Anne and Karlos left with the Ravenclaws, blending into the moving crowd.

And if Anne happened to notice one Rosaline Potter sneaking away from the group, heading in the exact opposite direction of safety...

Well.

She didn't mention it.

The moment they stepped into the Ravenclaw dormitory, the entire house erupted into chaotic chatter.

Students clustered together, buzzing like a nest of overexcited bees.

"Did you see Quirrell's face?" someone gasped. "He looked like he'd seen death itself!"

"Why is there even a troll in the dungeons?"

"I bet the Slytherins let it in!"

"No, no, I heard it was the Weasley twins!"

Karlos, tuning out the nonsense, dragged Anne to their usual corner, away from the noise. He leveled her with a pointed stare.

"Alright, Anne," he said, arms crossed. "Explain. How did you know?"

Anne, completely unbothered, flopped onto one of the couches and gave him a serene look.

"Karlos," she said with exaggerated patience, "didn't you already tell me that I'm the one who acts like an omniscient bystander?"

Karlos narrowed his eyes.

Anne smirked.

"Omniscience," she said, flipping her hair dramatically, "means knowing things, right?"

Karlos let out a long, suffering sigh.

"Anne," he said, "you are not omniscient."

Anne only grinned. "That's exactly what an ignorant character would say."

Karlos gave her a flat look. "So what? Next, you're going to claim you 'foresaw' Potter sneaking away?"

Anne hummed thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "Well, it's less of a foresight and more of an educated guess based on narrative structure, protagonist favoritism, and blatant Gryffindor recklessness."

Karlos stared at her.

Anne stared back.

Karlos threw his hands up. "You know what? Fine. Whatever keeps you entertained."

Anne, pleased, stretched her legs out on the couch.

Meanwhile, the Ravenclaws continued their chaotic discussions, theories getting wilder by the second.

"Maybe it's an ancient Hogwarts test of bravery!"

"What if Dumbledore is training us for some kind of secret war?"

"I think the troll is actually an Animagus."

Karlos rubbed his temples.

Anne leaned back, sipping a cup of tea she had absolutely not been holding five seconds ago.

Chaos outside, calm within.

-----

The next morning, Hogwarts was buzzing like a nest of Cornish Pixies on a sugar high.

Anne woke up to the sound of frantic whispers and the excited rustling of newspapers. The Ravenclaw common room was already alive with gossip when she and Karlos made their way downstairs.

"Did you hear?!" someone gasped near the fireplace.

"Potter and Weasley fought the troll!"

"No way!"

"I swear on my grandmother's enchanted dentures! My cousin in Gryffindor told me! They knocked it out in the girls' bathroom!"

Anne and Karlos exchanged glances.

Anne, sipping her tea: "Narrative structure, my dear Karlos."

Karlos, spreading marmalade on his toast: "Favoritism of the universe."

Breakfast in the Great Hall was even worse.

The moment they stepped inside, the whispers doubled.

Anne didn't even have to look to know that Harry Potter was being showered with praise at the Gryffindor table.

Karlos, ever the scholar, yoinked a newspaper from an unsuspecting third-year and scanned the front page.

"No mention of the troll," he muttered, disappointed.

Anne arched an eyebrow. "What exactly were you expecting? Hogwarts' Smallest Heroes: First-Years Vanquish Troll?"

Karlos, deadpan: "Yes."

Anne rolled her eyes and turned back to her breakfast. She had priorities. And those priorities involved a perfectly crisp piece of toast and tea at the ideal temperature.

At the Slytherin table, Rosaline Potter looked utterly unimpressed.

She was picking at her breakfast with all the enthusiasm of someone forced to listen to an off-key rendition of the school song.

Anne knew that look.

The "Why is everyone obsessed with Harry?" look.

Karlos, flipping through the newspaper, sighed dramatically.

"You know, I'm starting to think we wasted our time sneaking into the Restricted Section and studying magical locks," he said.

Anne arched a brow. "Oh?"

Karlos nodded toward Potter. "We should've just followed him around."

Anne hummed thoughtfully.

"True," she admitted, "but then we'd have to deal with Gryffindor impulsiveness firsthand."

Karlos shudders.

The Great Hall buzzed with excited chatter the morning after the troll fiasco. Students were still reeling from the chaos, some exaggeratedly recounting how they had almost come face-to-face with the creature (despite being nowhere near it). The Gryffindor table, however, was unusually subdued. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger sat close together, their bond visibly stronger than before.

Anne calmly sipped her tea, watching the scene unfold. She caught Karlos eyeing her with barely restrained curiosity.

"Don't start," she warned.

Karlos ignored her. "You knew something was up last night. Again." He leaned in, voice hushed. "Did you see Rosaline sneaking off? I swear she disappeared in the chaos."

Anne simply shrugged. "And if she did?"

"Then that means she was up to something! And as someone who thrives on knowing everything, I feel deeply offended that I don't!" Karlos placed a dramatic hand over his heart.

Anne sighed. "Karlos, sometimes it's best not to know everything."

He gasped. "Who are you and what have you done with Anne?"

She ignored him, returning her attention to the staff table, where Dumbledore was exchanging a quiet word with Snape. The Potions Master still had a slight limp, and Anne knew exactly why-Quirrell had already made his first attempt at sneaking past Fluffy, and Snape had gotten there first.

"Something interesting is happening," Karlos muttered, watching the same exchange.

Anne smirked. "Oh, you have no idea."

---

A week later, the first Quidditch match of the season arrived-Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Normally, this would have been the match where Harry played Seeker for the first time, but thanks to Anne's intervention, he remained just another spectator in the stands.

Not that the match lacked drama.

The Gryffindor team was struggling, as their new Seeker-a fifth-year named Patrick O'Hare-was nowhere near as naturally talented as Harry would have been. Meanwhile, the Slytherins were flying aggressively, with their usual amount of questionable sportsmanship.

Karlos, naturally, had bets running.

"I'm telling you, Slytherin is going to win," he said confidently as he passed Anne a chocolate frog.

Anne raised an eyebrow. "You literally put money on Gryffindor winning five minutes ago."

"That was before I saw O'Hare miss an easy dive for the Snitch. The guy has the reflexes of a soggy crumpet."

Sure enough, the match ended in Slytherin's favor. The Gryffindor team sulked back to their common room, and Harry looked particularly frustrated.

"I swear, Potter looks like he wants to be out there," Karlos observed.

Anne smirked. "Too bad. Some things just aren't meant to be."

---

A few days later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione could be found whispering in corners more often than usual. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had them so concerned-Snape. The moment they noticed his limp, they latched onto the idea that he was after the mysterious thing hidden under the trapdoor.

Karlos found the whole thing hilarious.

"I mean, sure, Snape looks like he wants to drown puppies in his spare time, but actively stealing from the school? Come on," Karlos said with an exaggerated eyeroll.

Anne, meanwhile, was mildly annoyed. She knew it was Quirrell, but how exactly was she supposed to steer Harry away from his incorrect conclusions without making it obvious?

"They're going to get themselves in trouble," she muttered, watching Harry and his friends argue in hushed voices near the Gryffindor table.

"Yes, but consider this," Karlos said, popping a Sugar Quill into his mouth. "Their poor detective skills are very entertaining."

Anne groaned.

---

As December crept closer, excitement for the holidays filled the air. Snow blanketed the castle grounds, enchanted wreaths and floating candles decorated the halls, and the air smelled of warm butterbeer and roasted chestnuts. Students buzzed about their upcoming holiday plans-some eager to go home, others looking forward to a quieter Hogwarts.

Karlos, however, had his own priorities.

"Of course I'm going home," he scoffed when Anne asked. "Do you have any idea what goes down at a Fawley gathering? It's a social battlefield, Anne dear. The gossip, the power plays, the blackmail opportunities-it's practically a sport."

Anne smirked. "You make it sound like an event."

Karlos flicked his hair dramatically. "It is an event. Do you know how many relatives I have? Some of them only show up once a year, which means I only have one chance to gather high-quality blackmail material." His grey eyes gleamed. "And I never waste an opportunity."

Anne chuckled. "You're terrifying."

Karlos grinned. "I know."

She leaned back against the courtyard railing, watching as students threw snowballs across the grounds. "Well, enjoy your scheming. I'm staying here."

Karlos raised an eyebrow. "No trip back to Feldcroft?"

Anne shook her head. "Too quiet. Too empty. And honestly? Too cold."

Karlos hummed. "Sounds lonely."

Anne shrugged, but before she could reply, he patted her shoulder. "Well, try not to burn the castle down in my absence, will you?" He smirked. "I do need something to come back to."

Anne rolled her eyes. "No promises."

Karlos laughed. "That's the spirit!"

With that, the students began preparing for their departures, and the castle settled into a slower, quieter rhythm as Christmas break approached.

---

As the train carrying the students home for the holidays departed, Anne found herself lingering by the Ravenclaw Tower's window, watching the steam from the Hogwarts Express fade into the wintery horizon. She wasn't sentimental-not truly. But for the first time in months, the castle felt empty.

Karlos had been talking about this trip for weeks, and Anne had nodded along, listening as he gleefully plotted how he'd gather blackmail material, stir up drama, and hoard secrets like a dragon with gold. He was ridiculous, but-he was hers. Her first real friend in this world, the one person who matched her wit, her cynicism, and her ambition stride for stride. The one person who saw her, not just as Anne Sallow, but as someone worth knowing.

She scoffed, shaking her head at herself. It was absurd to feel so affected by his absence. Hogwarts was supposed to be her domain, her sanctuary. She should've been relieved by the temporary silence, the lack of Karlos dramatically draping himself across furniture, waxing poetic about the tragic burdens of being too handsome, too intelligent, and too cursed with the affliction of nosiness.

But instead, she felt... off-kilter.

She wouldn't admit it aloud, but without Karlos, it felt like something fundamental was missing.

Anne exhaled sharply and turned away from the window. Ridiculous. She was not about to become some lovesick fool pining over her best friend just because he was gone for two weeks. She had far too many things to do, books to read, and mysteries to unravel-like the bloody enchanted door on the third floor.

And yet, even as she settled into a chair in the common room, a book in her lap, she knew Hogwarts wouldn't feel quite the same until she heard Karlos's voice again, brimming with new secrets and mischief, ready to drag her into yet another scheme.

With an annoyed huff, she flipped a page.

Two weeks.

She'd survive.

Probably.

---

Bonus Scene

It all started with Rosaline Euphemia Potter declaring, with absolute confidence:

"I have a great idea!"

Her court-Reinhard Lestrange, Danton Dolohov, and Theodore Nott-immediately knew they were doomed.

"That's the worst sentence in the English language," Theodore muttered as they crept along the dark third-floor corridor.

"It's not even English, Theo, it's Parseltongue for 'we're all going to die horribly,'" Reinhard added.

Danton, who had already accepted his fate as Rosaline's dumbly devoted knight, just grinned. "Relax, lads. What's the worst that could-"

"Shut up before the universe hears you," Theodore hissed.

But it was too late. Rosaline, without hesitation, pushed open a large, ancient door.

And there it was.

A MASSIVE. THREE-HEADED. MONSTER DOG.

Three sets of glowing yellow eyes blinked at them.

One head yawned. The other sneezed. The third was already growling, as if deciding which one of them looked the tastiest.

Rosaline gasped. "PUPPY!"

Theodore grabbed his chest like he was having a heart attack. "Did she just-"

"No." Reinhard closed his eyes. "I refuse to process this."

Danton, completely ignoring the horror of their situation, whistled. "I mean, technically, it is a dog."

"Technically, you have the survival instincts of a rock," Theodore snapped.

Fluffy's left head let out a deep, guttural snarl.

Rosaline's eyes sparkled. "Aww, wook at him! He's just a wittle grumpy-wumpy, aren't you?"

Reinhard physically recoiled. "Stop. Stop talking to it like that."

"Yes, you are! Yes, you-"

Fluffy barked. The force of it sent dust flying and their hair straight back like they'd stuck their heads out of a moving train.

"ABORT! ABORT!" Theodore screeched.

Reinhard lunged for Rosaline. Danton, with an instinct that surprised even himself, grabbed Theodore by the robes and yanked him backward.

The four of them scrambled out of the room at breakneck speed, slamming the door behind them.

They stood there in silence, gasping for air, eyes wide.

Finally, Danton spoke. "So. That was-"

"If you finish that sentence, I will personally feed you to the dog." Theodore wheezed.

Rosaline, completely unbothered, beamed. "He was adorable!"

Reinhard stared at her. "Rosaline. That was a Cerberus."

"A fluffy one!"

"IT TRIED TO EAT US!"

Rosaline waved dismissively. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. He's just a big softie."

Theodore wiped his face. "Rosaline, I need you to understand something. That thing has THREE HEADS. Do you know what that means?"

She tilted her head. "Triple the kisses?"

Reinhard sighed like a war veteran who had seen too much.

Danton, clearly having too much fun, nudged Theodore. "Technically, you could say it's three times the guard dog-"

"Do NOT encourage her!"

Rosaline, eyes shining with inspiration, clapped her hands together. "We should come back tomorrow with treats!"

Theodore: "NO."

Reinhard: "Absolutely not."

Danton: "...What kind of treats?"

Reinhard smacked him. "DO NOT PLAY ALONG!"

And thus, the Great Cerberus Friendship Mission was immediately vetoed by the Court of Rosaline.

...But she was already planning an accidental second visit.