The Ravenclaw table shimmered under the golden glow of floating candles—familiar now, but still enchanting in its quiet splendour. The enchanted ceiling no longer caught Illuna's eye. Instead, she focused on the massive banquet set before her.
Dumbledore calmed everyone down as he stepped up to the podium, his presence bringing a mix of awe and familiarity that only he could muster. "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are:
'Bumble. Widdershins. Echo. Cuttlefish.'
Thank you!"
A ripple of laughter travelled the hall. With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore summoned the feast, and the tables groaned under sudden weight. "
Polished plates with ornate golden trim gleamed like mirrors perfectly aligned across the long table. Bowls brimmed with foods she had only read about: roasted pheasant, towering tureens of mashed potatoes, gleaming beetroot salad with tiny white stars of goat cheese, and dishes from far-off places—spiced lentils, something bright green and steaming, little fried pockets that hissed when bitten. Everything was meticulously prepared—no doubt the work of hundreds of house-elves. What couldn't they accomplish?
As Illuna eats, her thoughts spiral into decoding, confined Dumbledore words meant something.
"'Echo'—is it a password? A spell? A clue to a hidden chamber?"
"Cuttlefish are cephalopods—maybe symbolic of memory? Or ink? Was it a reference to forgotten knowledge?"
A girl across from her, a third-year girl with rich umber skin and tightly curled dark hair, her sharp grey eyes studied her over a goblet of pumpkin juice. Her posture smug and amused. "He does that on purpose," she said. "Throws in cryptic things to make first years, especially Ravenclaws, overthink it for weeks."
Illuna looked up "Are you sure? What if it means something"
The dark-skinned girl answered back " "Maybe. Maybe he just enjoys watching people tie themselves in knots. Either way, it keeps us humble" her amused smirk never leaving her face.
"Illuna Heart," she offered.
"Celina Vector," the third-year replied. "And yes, as in Professor Vector. She's my aunt. And no, I don't understand Arithmancy any better for it."
A silence passed that wasn't quite comfortable, but wasn't awkward either.
Illuna opted to focus on those around her instead of lingering in the silence between the two girls.
Further down the table, the other first-years had begun laughing. One of the boys—a round-faced child with a voice like a overenthusiastic owl—was doing an impersonation of the sorting hat. The others leaned into each other, trading family names and favourite sweets, not so much excluding Illuna as simply overlooking her.
She didn't mind. Much.
"I wouldn't bother memorizing names tonight," Celina said, noticing her gaze. "most forget them in a week. Except maybe yours, Illuna. I heard quite a few whispers while you where under the hat."
Illuna raised a brow.
Celina shrugged. "Something about 'the shame of a father' and 'the apothecary girl.' Nothing original."
The words didn't hurt. Not really. They were old echoes, dressed in new voices.
"I don't care what they think."
"Of course not," Celina said, smirking. "But they'll still think it."
The buzz of conversation swirled around her, too loud to isolate but too soft to ignore. Words floated above the food like smoke. "My mum sent me a broomstick—Nimbus, not a Cleansweep, can you imagine?"
"Did you see the Slytherin table? My brother says they always get the crispest roast."
"—Grandfather knew Dumbledore once. Said he used to duel dragons. Actual dragons."
Illuna kept her hands in her lap for a few seconds longer than was necessary, then reached out and served herself a modest helping of vegetables. She wasn't sure what everything was, and she wasn't about to ask.
The roasted pheasant smelled rich and perfect—nothing like the charred remains of her father's 'experimental' dinners. Yet her fingers hesitated over the fork. For a second, she missed the acrid tang of smoke in their tiny flat.
"You're awfully quiet," the Celina said. Her voice was smooth, but there was an undertone of teasing curiosity. "Or are you just absorbing all the knowledge through osmosis?"
Illuna blinked. "I dislike unnecessary talking."
That earned a snort. "You'll fit right in with the books, then."
Illuna perked up, as if remembering something, her fingers twitched toward her robes, where her journal waited. 'Echo'—could it be a homophone? A mirror spell?— she scribbled, half story half ideas and theory.
Celine intrigued by the Illuna's sudden change of behaviour leaned over to get a better look.
"Merlin's beard, "Celina muttered. "You're actually writing this down?". She said amused
Illuna nodded, her hand moving with a mind of its own.
Despite Celina trying to include Illuna in her talks, she was eventually swept up within conversation of her friends, leaving Illuna to savour the food.
Just as Illuna reached for a second helping of mashed potatoes, a shadow darted beneath the Ravenclaw table. A collective rustle followed—a few surprised gasps, a clatter of a dropped spoon.
Out from beneath the benches slinked a sleek black cat, his fur smooth as ink and eyes glinting green-gold under the candlelight. Midnight.
Midnight ignored the scattered stares and coos as he padded directly toward Illuna and elegantly curled up beneath her bench like a shadow reclaiming its source.
He butted his forehead against Illuna's shin, his purr vibrating through her robes. She didn't look down, but her fingers found the spot behind his ears he loved—a habit so ingrained she barely noticed doing it.
"Wait—is that yours?" Celina leaned forward abruptly, midnight granting her a opening to resume conversation with Illuna, eyes wide. Her usual smirk softened into something closer to delight. "No way. That's the most dignified-looking cat I've ever seen."
"His name's Midnight," Illuna said simply.
Celina reached down, hand extended, but Midnight sniffed it once and turned his head away with an audible huff.
She laughed. "Rude. I like him already."
Illuna discreetly slipped a piece of pheasant under the table. Midnight accepted it with a slow blink and a low purr.
Then Illuna looked up—and caught Professor McGonagall watching her from across the staff table.
The Deputy Headmistress's eyes were narrowed, mouth pressed into a thin, disapproving line.
Illuna's hand froze.
McGonagall held her gaze a second longer—then said nothing. She returned to her plate, her silence permission enough.
"She saw," Celina murmured, amused again. "You're lucky she's a cat person." Celina said, think how literal that statement was.
Midnight flicked his tail against Illuna's ankle like punctuation.
___________________
After the feast, the prefects led the first-years toward their common rooms. Illuna walked a little behind the group, her steps measured. A few lanterns flickered as they passed, and stone corridors twisted like the inside of a living thing.
The walk to Ravenclaw Tower was a blur of whispered excitement and flickering torchlight. Illuna's shoes clicked against the stone steps, each one taking her further from the Great Hall's warmth and closer to the unknown.
The Ravenclaw prefect leading the group—a tall boy with sandy-blond hair and sharp cheekbones—strode ahead confidently, clearly used to guiding newcomers.
Finally, they arrived at a spiral staircase leading to a tall wooden door with a bronze eagle-shaped knocker.
The prefect turned. "This is where the fun begins."
The eagle's beak moved." I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I? "
"A desert?" guessed a first-year.
'Deserts have sand, not water,' another muttered.
'A painting?'
'Too literal.'
The prefect waited, then smirked. 'It's a map'
The door swung open with a barely noticed creak.
"Tch," Illuna muttered. Just a little more time and she would have guessed it she thought to herself.
"Don't worry. Most of us miss our first few. You'll get the hang of it." The prefect said to all the first years, knowing how they must feel.
The Ravenclaw common room was stunning. Arched windows looked out over the mountains, reflecting moonlight across star-patterned carpets and blue velvet chairs. A white marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw stood in quiet judgment near the fireplace.
And a small personal library just like Illuna hoped, that would save her a lot of trouble from going to the library. Located in a niche. She loved this house more and more. Maybe other houses had personal libraries too? If they didn't, wouldn't it be a unfair to.
Ravenclaw girls' dormitory sat high in a stone tower, its five beds draped in deep blue canopies. Moonlight filtered through narrow lancet windows, painting silver shapes on the floor. Her dormitory was cosy, with deep blue blankets, and a soft breeze that smelled faintly of ink and parchment.
"Nice, right?" chirped a round-faced girl as she flopped onto the bed nearest the window. Her red-and-gold scarf had slipped halfway out of her trunk. "I'm Bethany, but everyone calls me Beth. Can you believe they didn't put me in Hufflepuff? My gran nearly fainted."
Illuna tilted her head. "Why would she faint?"
Beth giggled. "I'm not exactly the poster child for riddles and ancient logic puzzles, you know? I thought they'd see me and just… toss me into the kitchen." She laughed at her own joke. "But hey—blue suits me."
Before Illuna could respond, another girl piped up from across the room. "I think the Hat sees more than we do. Maybe it saw something special." She had soft brown eyes and a halo of brown curls pulled into a loose bun. "I'm Mira. Mira Hawthorne. If anyone needs anything, just ask. I've read three Hogwarts guides, and I basically packed for a small army."
"That's inefficient," Illuna noted flatly, setting her journal on her bed.
Mira blinked, then smiled. "Maybe. But it makes people feel safe."
Before anyone could answer, the final girl shuffled in—arms full of tiny boxes, her robes slightly askew.
"Sorry! Sorry," she huffed. "I thought I lost my moonstone. Turns out it was in my sock. Again."
She dropped onto the last bed with a sigh and started organizing her trinkets along the windowsill like tiny totems.
"That's Nellie," Mira said helpfully. "She… collects things."
Nellie nodded cheerfully. "Everything has a mood. This one feels like 'squished ambition.'"
Illuna blinked again. "What would that even feel like?"
"Exactly!" Nellie beamed, as though that answered everything.
Mira chuckled. Nellie held up a shell as if it were proof of something. Illuna said nothing and opened her trunk.
Beth looked between them, grinning. "Oh, we're going to have such a weirdly wonderful year, I can already tell."
Illuna said nothing. But she didn't mind the sound of that.
Illuna lay awake long after the others' breathing had softened into sleep. Something about the ceiling felt too high, too open. Her pillow didn't sink the way her one at home did.
She slipped out of bed with a sigh, the bed creaking from her shift, Midnight yawning as he was awoken from his nap, following her as they crept towards the common room.
A fire crackled in the hearth, grabbing a book from the Ravenclaw library. She sat near the fire place, tucking her knees under her robe. The book was old and smelled like dried herbs. The words were soothing.
She didn't hear the whispers now. Didn't feel the stares. There was just firelight midnight purrs as he slept on her lap and the knowledge of the book.
And for tonight, that was enough.