The second week of the term began with a brisk walk to Charms class through snowy corridors, their breath misting in the air. Professor Flitwick had left a cheerful notice outside the classroom door, written in swooping sparkly letters:
"This week's lesson: The Tickling Charm! Wands at the ready and bellies beware!"
Hadrian chuckled. "This is either going to be brilliant or a disaster."
Dora raised a brow. "Why not both?"
Inside, Professor Flitwick stood on his usual pile of books, beaming. "Good morning, class! Today, we'll be working on Rictusempra, the Tickling Charm! A fine way to practice charm accuracy and control. Do try not to overdo it—unless you want your classmates laughing themselves into the hospital wing."
The trio was paired together at one table. Around them, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were nervously giggling before spells even began. The atmosphere buzzed with gleeful anticipation.
Hadrian was first. "Rictusempra!" he aimed at Dora.
She yelped as invisible fingers danced across her ribs, squirming in her seat with wild laughter. "You absolute—stop—!"
"Counter-spell!" Iris cried quickly, ending it before Dora fell out of her chair.
Dora straightened with a grin and narrowed her eyes. "Payback time, Potter."
By the end of class, Flitwick had awarded them all house points for spell control—and taken a short nap behind his desk to recover from an "overzealous" demonstration by a Ravenclaw who had accidentally tickled him mid-lecture.
That evening in the common room, the trio was deep in a much more serious mission: planning their next prank.
"We've done charms," Iris said, ticking off her finger, "Transfiguration mischief, and some well-placed trick food from Zonko's."
Dora leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "What if we combine all of it? You know, like transfigured prank objects, charmed for delayed reaction?"
Hadrian's eyes lit up. "Like a quill that sings instead of writing when someone tries to take notes?"
"Or enchanted earmuffs that shout compliments at the wearer in overly dramatic tones?" Iris added.
They burst into laughter, scribbling down ideas furiously. But Hadrian paused, suddenly thoughtful. "We should be careful who we prank. No targeting first-years. And nothing mean—only mischief."
Dora gave a dramatic salute. "Captain Hadrian, commander of the Mischief Morally Acceptable League!"
Iris dissolved into giggles. "M-MAL for short?"
They spent the rest of the evening crafting their "MAL" manifesto and settled on their next prank target: the ancient suits of armor in the entrance hall.
Hadrian would enchant them to dance in unison during the next morning rush. Dora would transfigure their helmets into opera masks. And Iris? She'd charm them to sing Celestina Warbeck hits in falsetto.
As the trio finally turned in for the night, Dora's hair slowly changed to match the golden warmth of the firelight. Hadrian gave her a sleepy smile as they passed each other in the hallway.
"We're getting really good at this," Iris whispered as she climbed into bed.
"Too good," Dora murmured with a smirk. "They won't know what hit them."