The castle loomed ahead, its tall windows glowing faintly with candlelight. We slipped through a side door, Luna holding her shoes in one hand so they wouldn't click against the stone floor. The corridors were hushed except for the distant echo of our quiet laughter and the faint purr of my cat trotting behind us.
As we rounded a corner near the dungeons, Luna suddenly stopped and pulled me back into the shadows.
Professor Snape was gliding down the corridor — long black robes whispering against the floor, his expression sharper than the moonlight. His eyes flicked once toward the corridor we hid in, and for a breath I was sure he sensed us.
Luna held her breath, her fingers pressing against mine.
Then, as if the shadows themselves decided to spare us, Snape turned away and continued down toward the Potions classroom. His voice drifted faintly after him — low and irritated — probably muttering about "reckless students" again.
We exhaled at the same time, muffling our giggles.
Just as we stepped out, two familiar red-haired figures slipped from the opposite hallway — Fred and George Weasley, whispering furiously to each other while carrying what looked suspiciously like a shimmering vial and a stack of enchanted fireworks.
"Quick, this way," one of them whispered.
"No, not that classroom, that's where the frogs are!" hissed the other.
Luna leaned toward me, eyes bright with amusement. "They're up to no good again," she murmured. "Let's leave before they put us in the same pot as them."
We both bit back laughter, turning on our heels and tiptoeing away down the corridor — light as feathers, our footsteps barely touching the ground.
By the time we reached the spiral staircase leading to Ravenclaw Tower, the castle felt peaceful again — like it was smiling at our escape.
Inside, the blue glow of enchanted lanterns welcomed us home. Luna dropped her shoes and twirled once in the middle of the room, her hair catching the starlight still tangled in it.
"We didn't get caught," she said softly, sounding both proud and dreamy.
"No," I whispered back, smiling. "Not this time."
We fell into quiet laughter as we climbed into our beds, the forest still whispering in the back of our minds — stars, centaurs, secrets — all tucked safely into the folds of the night.
The next morning felt heavy, as if the castle itself knew we'd been wandering where we shouldn't. The sky outside Ravenclaw Tower was gray, clouds rolling like restless smoke, and the chill in the air had found its way into every corridor.
Luna and I hurried down to Potions class, still half-laughing from shared memories of starlight and centaurs. My cat trotted after us, tail flicking high — until the dungeon door opened.
Snape was already there.
Arms crossed. Expression unreadable, but eyes as sharp as daggers.
"Miss Lovegood," he said, voice slicing through the room.
"And our… new addition, Miss Dionida."
Every student went silent. The candles seemed to dim.
He stepped closer, his robes whispering along the stones. "It appears that some students have trouble distinguishing between Hogwarts grounds and Forbidden Forest." His dark gaze flicked between us. "Would you care to explain why certain owls mentioned two girls under their stars last night?"
My stomach dropped.
Luna, however, simply tilted her head, calm as ever.
"Oh, they must have been mistaken, Professor," she said with perfect composure. "We were only admiring the constellations. I'm sure they meant no harm."
Snape's eyebrow twitched — just barely — but enough to make the room hold its breath.
"Ten points from Ravenclaw," he said coldly. "And if I hear of either of you admiring anything beyond curfew again, I'll personally ensure you're scrubbing cauldrons until Christmas."
"Yes, Professor," we said in unison.
He turned away, cloak snapping dramatically, and the lesson began — brewing an advanced sleeping draught.
The dungeon filled with the hiss of simmering mixtures and the sharp scent of crushed valerian. I fumbled a bit with my mortar, trying not to meet Snape's gaze again. Luna, on the other hand, stirred her cauldron with serene precision, her hair glowing faintly in the torchlight.
"Your potion should not resemble pumpkin soup," Snape said, passing behind us. "Fix it, Miss Dionida, before it solidifies."
I flushed, stirring faster. Luna leaned close and whispered, "He's harsh, but he does care. In his own potion-y way."
I almost laughed, but she was already sprinkling powdered moonseed into my mixture. The potion's color changed — from murky orange to shimmering silver.
"How did you—"
"Just intuition," she said with a smile.
By the time class ended, our cauldron was the only one still emitting that delicate silvery glow. Even Snape paused, looking mildly impressed — though he hid it beneath his usual scowl.
"Acceptable," he muttered. "Barely."
But as we left the dungeon, Luna leaned toward me, whispering, "That's his way of saying it was excellent."
We walked out into the sunlight filtering through the stone arches, relief washing over us. The world felt light again.
"Next time," she said softly, "we should bring tea to the forest. I think the centaurs would like that."
I looked at her — dreamy, brilliant, unpredictable Luna — and couldn't help but smile.
"Next time," I agreed.
And next time came fast.