Evaline:
November had always felt like a quiet warning.
Not harsh enough to demand heavy cloaks at all hours, not gentle enough to ignore the promise of winter. By mid-month, the mornings carried a bite that crept beneath fabric and settled into bones. The evenings grew darker faster, the sun retreating as if conserving its own strength.
I liked this time of year.
It felt like a pause before something significant.
The days were still manageable, though colder winds now threaded through the academy courtyards. The nights required thicker blankets, and I had already noticed frost gathering along the edges of the Herbology garden's barriers.
Just a few more weeks.
And soon, the first snow would fall, transforming everything into silver and white. Soon, the halls would be decorated for Christmas. The world would celebrate. There would be warmth, laughter, and far too much cocoa and chocolate shakes.
But not yet.
For now, there were more pressing matters.
