In the morning the classroom buzzed with nervous excitement. First spell lessons always did that — everyone clutching their wands, some too tight, some too loose, some whispering the incantation under their breath like a prayer.
Dionida sat beside Luna, her loyal black cat curled on her lap like it was auditing the lesson.
Professor Rigglenook — a short, round wizard with large spectacles — clapped his hands.
"Wands up! Today we revisit a basic levitation charm: Wingardium Leviosa. Swish… and flick!"
His wand lifted a feather gracefully into the air.
Luna smiled dreamily. "This will be fun."
Dionida was not quite convinced.
She took a breath. Swish… flick…
"Wingardium Lev—"
Before she even finished the word, her feather shot straight up, then sideways, then diagonal, then exploded into a flurry of little white pieces drifting everywhere.
"Oh no—!" Dionida yelped as her wand sparked, sending a stack of parchment spinning into the air like panicked butterflies.
Around her, students ducked.
Her cat leaped off the desk with an offended hiss.
Professor Rigglenook shouted, "Miss Dionida— control your—!"
But before he could finish, another whoosh filled the air.
All the books on his desk — thick ones, thin ones, dusty ones, even one that growled — lifted gently into the air, floating in perfect spiraling circles.
Luna held her wand loosely, head tilted.
"They were in the way," she said calmly, as if this explained everything. "You almost got hit. So I moved them."
Dionida stared, both dazzled and mortified.
The professor stared too, but with a face somewhere between awe… and pure misery.
"Miss Lovegood…" he whispered, watching his entire collection of textbooks orbit the classroom like planets. "That is… advanced magic. Very advanced. But— BUT— look at this mess! Papers everywhere! My lesson—!"
Luna blinked slowly. "Oh. Yes. That." She glanced at Dionida with a tiny smile. "We did make a little mess, didn't we?"
Dionida snorted a laugh, covering her mouth. "A little?"
Luna twirled her wand gently.
All the books drifted back to the professor's desk, landing in a perfectly neat stack — neater than they had been before.
The scattered papers around Dionida fluttered together in a swirl and settled in a tidy pile… except for one that her cat sat on stubbornly.
The professor rubbed his temples.
"Miss Lovegood… Miss Dionida… please attempt to keep the classroom on the ground for the remainder of the lesson."
Luna whispered, "I make no promises."
Dionida whispered back, "Honestly… I'm glad."
Luna gave her a smile so soft and glowing that Dionida forgot the embarrassment, forgot the chaos. All she could notice was Luna's presence — steady, kind, quietly brilliant in a way the world often overlooked.
And Dionida realized something:
If every class went like this…
She wouldn't mind at all.
Hogwarts' potion ingredient room smelled like crushed herbs, old wood, and something faintly sour. Jars lined every wall — powders, preserved roots, leaves that twitched on their own, and glowing crystals sealed behind charms.
Dionida followed Luna inside, clutching a small parchment list.
Her cat trotted proudly beside her, tail high, clearly ready to "help."
"Professor said we need moonmint, shimmerdust, and veilflower petals," Dionida read, squinting at the handwriting.
Luna nodded, drifting toward a shelf filled with delicately glowing herbs.
"You take the moonmint," she said. "Your hands are gentle. Moonmint likes gentle."
Dionida reached up carefully.
Her cat, in the meantime, jumped onto a lower shelf… then another… then another, knocking jars over like it was performing an interpretive dance of destruction.
A jar of shimmerdust toppled.
Another rolled off the shelf.
A third shook ominously.
"W-Wait—! CAT — NO!" Dionida lunged, dropping moonmint everywhere.
The first jar shattered.
The shimmerdust puffed into the air like volcanic glitter.
The ingredients room exploded in a storm of sparkling dust, rogue petals, and herbs flying like startled birds.
Shelves rattled. Bottles tipped. A jar of Slumber Spiders hissed. One jar began to roll toward a VERY suspicious vial of Blasting Sap.
"Oh no— don't mix—!" Dionida gasped.
Chaos spiraled into chaos.
But Luna…
Luna stood perfectly calm at the center of the storm, her silver hair lifting slightly in the swirling air.
Her eyes half-closed.
Her wand raised.
And then —
"Quietus Orbis."
Her voice was soft.
But the spell cracked like silver lightning.
WHOOM—
Time didn't freeze, not exactly — but everything slowed to a gliding stop.
The shimmerdust hung in the air like tiny stars.
Falling jars paused mid-flight.
The cat's fur floated upwards, caught mid-pounce.
Even the fluttering veilflower petals froze, glowing faintly.
Dionida stood unmoving out of pure shock.
"Luna… w-what… what did you—"
Luna walked through the suspended chaos as calmly as if she were strolling through a quiet hallway. She gently repositioned jars, fixed lids, tucked herbs back into place, and even nudged the cat onto a safe shelf… all while everything else hung in shimmering stillness.
Then she lifted her wand again.
A tiny flick.
Time resumed.
The shimmerdust settled harmlessly in jars.
The cat blinked, confused but unharmed.
The shelves looked tidier than when they'd arrived.
Dionida stared at her, breathless.
"Luna… that spell… that wasn't normal magic. That felt like— like something ancient."
Luna only tilted her head.
"Oh, that? My mother taught me. Most people don't use it. It's delicate. And a little strange."
She dusted her robes off.
"You looked frightened," she added, softening. "So I made everything stop. For you."
Dionida felt her heart pulse hard — a warm, aching mix of awe and something deeper, something tender.
"You're… incredible," she whispered.
Luna blinked, surprised.
"No… I'm just Luna."
But to Dionida, standing there in the soft, settling shimmerdust, she looked like something else entirely:
Magic in human form.
Gentle. Brilliant. Powerful.
And impossibly beautiful.
Just as the last shimmerdust settled onto Luna's shoes and Dionida tried to calm her racing heart, the temperature in the ingredient room seemed to drop.
A soft, cold sweep of robes brushed against the doorway.
Dionida felt the hairs on her neck rise.
Luna straightened slightly but didn't lose her calm expression.
And then he stepped inside.
Professor Snape.
His presence filled the room like a storm cloud — quiet, dark, and heavy with something unsaid. His cloak whispered across the floor, and his eyes swept over the shelves, the jars, the faint shimmer still clinging to the air.
Then his gaze landed on Dionida.
It was sharp.
Measuring.
Not cruel, but uncomfortably precise.
"So," he said.
His voice was lower, deeper, and far more commanding than Dionida had imagined from the stories.
Not theatrical — but cutting, like a blade sliding through silk.
The sound of it made her straighten instinctively.
Luna's hands folded behind her back politely, as if she had been caught rearranging the stars themselves.
Snape's eyes narrowed slightly at the cat sitting proudly on a shelf.
Then at the barely noticeable remnants of chaos.
Then at Dionida again.
"You must be the… new student."
His tone was dry, as if he were barely willing to acknowledge the concept of a newcomer at all. He didn't need to raise his voice — every syllable carried enough weight to silence the world around him.
Dionida swallowed. "Y-yes, Professor."
He raised one eyebrow, almost imperceptibly.
"And you decided to test the explosive compatibility of half this storage room on your first week here?"
Dionida froze.
Luna, ever loyal, opened her mouth to defend her — but Snape held up one hand, and even Luna paused obediently.
It wasn't fear.
It was the sheer authority of someone who had spent years teaching with absolute command.
Snape stepped closer, inspecting the shelves with the meticulous scrutiny of someone who could spot a misaligned ingredient from fifty meters away.
His cloak brushed past Dionida, and she felt the faintest chill — not cold, exactly, but the intensity of a man who seemed carved from night and discipline.
Finally, he spoke again.
"I see," he murmured. "And despite the chaos…"
His gaze flicked briefly to Luna, lingering longer than expected.
"…the room is… unexpectedly tidy."
Luna nodded once, serene.
"We organized it," she said simply.
Snape stared at her for a moment, an unreadable expression in his eyes. Not admiration. Not annoyance. Something more complicated — respect, perhaps, for the strange, effortless magic she wielded.
Then he turned back to Dionida.
"I will expect you," he said, "to learn control. Quickly."
The words weren't loud. But they were final. Absolute.
Dionida nodded silently.
"Yes, Professor."
Snape's cloak moved like liquid shadow as he turned.
Before leaving, he paused at the door just long enough to add, without looking back:
"See that it doesn't happen again."
And then he was gone — leaving the air sharper, the room quieter, and Dionida's heartbeat far too loud in her own ears.
Luna stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Dionida's arm.
"He's very direct," she said softly. "He never says it, but he's proud when students try hard."
Dionida exhaled. "His voice… I didn't expect it to be like that."
Luna smiled. "Most people don't. It's stronger up close. Like a truth you can't ignore."
Dionida nodded, still feeling the echo of his presence but comforted by Luna's warmth beside her.
And in that moment, she knew another truth:
No matter how intimidating this world could be…
standing next to Luna made it feel bearable — even beautiful.