The boy's mouth curled into a charming smile, though lingering fatigue still showed in his eyes. Vespera remembered him.
He looked somewhat irritable.
It was the boy from the boat: Blaise Zabini.
"A secret." If possible, Vespera would rather just be an anonymous informant.
Zabini chuckled at the wooden expression of this pretty little Ravenclaw, a genuine amusement touching his eyes. "Then who did you send it to?"
"Headmaster Dumbledore and the Minister for Magic."
Oh? Just bluffing?
That surely had to remain a secret, too.
"Why didn't you receive your mail in the Great Hall?"
Quinlan asked, as the spectacle of the owls in the Great Hall was still quite a sight.
Thinking the conversation was over, Zabini gave a light chuckle and replied, "Perhaps, like you, I came to mail a letter."
"Your wizarding robe pocket is a bit shallow; the envelope is sticking out."
At these words, Zabini instinctively looked down at his outer robe's pocket.
A little Ravenclaw who told fibs—he had clearly tucked the letter into his trousers.
"So, you came to fetch your mail. Shall we walk together? We mustn't be late for our first class of the term."
Vespera headed out of the shed, only to find that Zabini hadn't followed behind her. "Perhaps you'd prefer to walk alone?"
"No, I'm going with you. I don't know the way."
-
Vespera timed it just right; the two of them had barely stepped into the greenhouse when Professor Sprout announced the start of class.
Draco looked with disdain upon their last-minute arrival. He, a Malfoy after all, had arrived early—what was wrong with these two?
"Zabini, why did you come with her?"
"Ran into her on the way."
"All right, settle down, children. Today we are going to study 'Dictamnus'."
"Dictamnus has powerful healing properties; using this plant directly can also help shallow wounds heal. But more often, it is used to make Essence of Dictamnus..."
"Put away your quills and grab your small trowels. We are going to fertilize the Dictamnus."
"Mooncalf dung can make magical plants grow fast and vigorously. Before your very eyes are the seeds of the Dictamnus. Get to work, children."
The silvery dung was piled together and had almost no odor. Vespera applied the fertilizer smoothly, and the Dictamnus seedlings quickly poked through the soil.
"Very good. Miss Quinlan's application of fertilizer is extremely precise. Five points to Ravenclaw."
"Though compost promotes plant growth, more is not always better. Clearly, Miss Parkinson, your Dictamnus has been 'smoked' to death."
"Mr. Malfoy is doing very well. Three points to Slytherin." Draco looked immensely proud; he had won three points for Slytherin.
And yet that clumsy Quinlan had actually won five points for Ravenclaw—more than him.
Damnable, she'd be first next class.
The hundred-and-twenty-minute lesson passed quite pleasantly, and Vespera felt that campus life at Hogwarts wasn't bad at all.
Room and board included, save for the fact that the things needed for the start of term were a bit numerous and rather expensive.
If only the food in the kitchens could taste better.
At lunchtime, the students around Vespera were eating with great relish, while she...
The beef was tender—so tender that blood kept dripping when she poked it with a fork. The pork chops were coated in a heavy, rich sauce that nearly made her faint from the gamey smell with a single bite.
Better stick to a couple of wedges of fried potato, and the fried cod wasn't bad either.
Until the afternoon flying lesson, Vespera stayed in the library on the fifth floor. She would have liked to return to her dormitory, but today's password was too difficult, and she had guessed wrong.
Hopefully someone would manage to guess it by tonight.
"Hey, Vespera." It was Hermione.
"Hello, Hermione."
"Ron and Harry were late for the first class this morning and were caught red-handed by Professor McGonagall."
"That's awful..."
Madam Pince's sharp gaze swept across their faces. "Keep it quiet in the library."
The flying lesson was a wonderful experience; the broomsticks looked sleek and bottom-pinching, but in reality, one's seat was gently lifted by magic.
The feel was just right.
Having expended too much energy during the flying lesson, Vespera fell asleep while reading in the library and consequently missed dinner time.
The curfew at Hogwarts was nine o'clock at night, and Headmaster Dumbledore had announced during the opening feast that students were forbidden from wandering about at night.
Yet the staircase to the Ravenclaw dormitory had vanished, and Vespera found herself trapped wandering between the fourth and fifth floors, searching for her way back.
"It's past curfew."
"Good evening, Prefect Weasley." The newcomer was the Gryffindor fifth-year prefect, Percy Ignatius Weasley.
While patrolling the fourth floor, Percy spotted her, his bright yellow lantern illuminating her face. She was a first-year Ravenclaw newcomer—he remembered.
Vespera Quinlan—a rare and beautiful name, the wise evening star.
"I'm sorry, Prefect Weasley, I'm lost. Could you tell me the way back to the Ravenclaw tower?"
"I'll walk you."
He could simply have called Hilliard, or told her where the staircase was.
Percy cast a subtle glance at the person beside him, who was so short she barely reached his elbow. Well, a fifth-year looking after a first-year was only proper.
This was perfectly normal.
The entrance to the Ravenclaw common room was littered with sleeping bags, wrapped around little eagles one after another. They were sleeping on the floor tonight.
Would she... be able to sleep well?
"Thank you, Prefect Weasley. I've arrived, goodbye."
"—Right, goodbye."
Percy walked away naturally; he still had areas left to patrol, and he hoped he wouldn't catch any Gryffindor students.
Vespera couldn't sleep well; there was no moon, and her stomach felt terribly empty.
Tossing and turning, she finally decided to head for the kitchens. Humans aren't made of iron, but food really is the fuel of life!
Pulling her cloak's hood over her head, she slipped away on tiptoe.
"Oh~ look what we've found—a little eagle out wandering at night."
"The little eagle Percy escorted home."
Red-brown hair and identical faces: George and Fred crouched down, boxing her in from left and right.
Vespera clutched the brim of her hood tightly, burying herself inside it.
She'd been found out... you can't see me.
"Hm... Ves-pera-Quinlan..." George read the name badge on her robes.
"I am not." Vespera pulled off the brim of her hood, her expression calm and unbothered, and openly revealed her face.
Fred and George exchanged a knowing look.
"Ah, well, Miss Ravenclaw-who-is-definitely-not-Miss-Vespera-Quinlan, where might you be headed?"
"The kitchen."
"Well, Miss Ravenclaw-who-is-definitely-not-Miss-Vespera-Quinlan, do you know the way to the kitchen?"
"You know it."
"Yes, we do."
Vespera looked at the two of them with a calm gaze. "Mm, thank you. Senior Weasleys."
George: A pretty and polite little eagle.
Fred: A purple-eyed little eagle.
The house-elves in the kitchen were busy preparing breakfast for the next day, and the arrival of the three newcomers did not draw their attention.
Plenty of students visited here every day.
"So, Miss Ravenclaw-who-is-definitely-not-Miss-Vespera-Quinlan, what would you like to eat?" the Weasleys asked in unison.
"Stir-fried beef noodles with black pepper, please."
Both Fred and George saw the surprise in each other's eyes. "Never heard of it, but we want some too."
Vespera walked over to a house-elf who was washing a stove. "Hello, may I use the kitchen's tools and ingredients?"
"Respected Miss Quinlan, Dobby is honored to answer your question."
"Of course you may use the things in the kitchen, but for the safety of young wizards, Dobby can cook it for you."
"Thank you, Dobby. I can manage by myself; you can just watch and protect me nearby, don't worry."
High heat, wok heated with oil, strips of beef marinated beforehand, strips of green and red bell pepper, button mushrooms, minced garlic, and black pepper sauce.
As she added the side ingredients, she took a moment to ask, "Is there anything you're allergic to?"
The shocked Weasleys shook their heads back and forth like bobbleheads.
Soon, a rich aroma of pepper swept through the entire kitchen, and the house-elves paused their work one by one to gather around Quinlan's stove.
Finally, a large ladle of black pepper beef was poured over the golden, springy noodles.
A feast of color, aroma, and taste!
"A golden dinner!"
"A clever-handed Miss Ravenclaw."
Having worked at Hogwarts for many years and always following recipe books, the house-elves had never seen such a novel way of cooking.
It smelled simply too good.
"Let's eat, Senior Weasleys."
Vespera carried away her own dinner and sat down to enjoy it at a table and chairs that Dobby had conjured for her.
George and Fred sat on either side, digging in with forks and letting endless praises spill from their lips.
The Hogwarts kitchens were truly well-stocked, complete with all sorts of spices and seasonings. Tasting familiar dishes brought a gleam of joy to Vespera's eyes and brows.
"Miss Quinlan, might the house-elves include the recipe for this dish in the Hogwarts kitchen cookbook?"
Dobby looked both expectant and slightly guilty, pulling her bat-like ears down with her fingers.
Such a delicious dish must surely be a secret recipe; Dobby was so bad for coveting a young wizard's secrets.
"Of course you can." Vespera also wanted to have a look at that Hogwarts cookbook. "May I have a look at the cookbook first?"
Dobby had deep purple eyes just like Vespera's, which at that moment seemed dotted with bright fireworks.
"Of course you can! Miss Quinlan may certainly look at the cookbook."
-
"This..."
Having eaten their fill, Fred and George sandwiched Quinlan between them as she held the cookbook. "This is the Hogwarts cookbook?"
Facing the young wizards' stunned expressions, Dobby affirmed with a nod, "Yes."
Thin.
It was truly very thin.