The Ravenclaw common room was quiet that evening, the fire crackling softly as shadows danced across the high, arched ceiling. A few students murmured over scrolls or chessboards, but Luna and I had claimed a cozy corner near the window, a pile of parchment and quills scattered between us.
We had begun what Luna called "The Unofficial Creature Observation Journal," which was really just a fancy name for us writing down all our wild adventures and theories about magical beings. Luna's handwriting looped and swirled like the tails of Nargles, while mine was a mess of ink blots and half-finished thoughts.
"Thestrals," Luna said dreamily, tilting her head as if she could see them right through the castle walls. "They are such gentle creatures. It's funny how most people fear them just because they see what others can't."
I nodded, scribbling notes while balancing a biscuit in my mouth. "And hippogriffs—proud but loyal. They remind me of Professor Flitwick when he catches someone cheating during Charms exams."
Luna giggled, her radish earrings swinging. "Yes, only less squeaky."
We moved on to centaurs, trying to recall every whispered rumor from older students about the Forbidden Forest. Then came unicorns, and Luna insisted that their tails could change color depending on the moon's phase, though I suspected she might've made that up on the spot.
Everything was peaceful… until the crash.
A furry blur shot across the room like a streak of lightning, knocking over an ink bottle and sending blue splatters across our journal.
"My cat!" I yelped, diving after the creature that had just barrelled into a very startled Kneazle—Hermione Granger's, of course.
The two felines hissed, puffed up, and spun around each other like dueling dust storms. Luna jumped onto the chair to avoid the chaos, her butterbeer cork necklace bouncing.
"Dionida, it's attacking a certified magical species!" she squeaked.
"I noticed!" I shouted back, grabbing for my cat's tail and getting a face full of feathers instead. (Don't ask why it has feathers. Luna said it was a 'partial transfiguration incident.')
Hermione appeared out of nowhere, as she always did—books in one arm, wand in the other, looking mildly annoyed but also as if she'd expected this.
"Oh for heaven's sake—Finite Incantatem!"
Both cats yowled and froze mid-fight, suspended in the air like fluffy balloons. My cat floated right into my arms, while the Kneazle drifted politely back down beside her. Hermione exhaled, clearly more irritated about the spilled ink than the actual duel.
"Keep your cat away from mine," she said, her tone clipped but not unkind. "Some of us are trying to study, not host a pet war."
I blinked, surprised. Wasn't she supposed to be nice? The clever one, the golden trio's calm brain? Maybe she was just tired. Or maybe too smart to be patient. Still… did she really have to sound like a prefect with a migraine?
"Sorry," I mumbled, clutching my cat, who looked about as guilty as a puffskein caught in a pudding bowl.
As Hermione turned and marched off, Luna leaned close, whispering in her usual floaty voice. "I wouldn't mind too much. She's always with Harry and Ron when they're getting into a mess. At least we make our messes quietly. Theirs end up in the Daily Prophet."
I laughed softly, wiping ink off my sleeve. "That's true. We're practically invisible troublemakers."
Luna's eyes sparkled as she tucked her quill behind her ear. "Shall we find another creature that's hard to find?"
I grinned, closing the splattered journal and glancing toward the window. The Forbidden Forest looked almost inviting under the pale moonlight.
"Let's," I said. "But maybe after we train our cats not to duel first."
Luna nodded solemnly. "That seems wise. Creatures with claws should be our allies, not our rivals."
And with that very Luna-like wisdom, we went back to writing, the ink-stained pages now proudly bearing the pawprints of our chaotic little adventure.
The library was quiet that morning, with the golden light of early sun slipping through the tall windows and scattering across the dusty shelves. The scent of parchment and ink wrapped the air like something ancient and soothing.
Luna walked beside me, her steps soft as feathers. Ever since the Kneazle incident, we'd been careful to keep away from Hermione — not out of dislike, but out of mutual embarrassment. Luna didn't seem to mind; she hummed under her breath, a melody only she seemed to know.
She stopped before a high shelf and tilted her head. "Hmm," she murmured, "these older ones always have better secrets." Her long fingers traced over the spines until one, particularly dusty, seemed to catch her attention. With a gentle tug, she pulled it free. A puff of golden dust drifted into the sunlight.
The title read 'Magical Creatures and Where They Prefer Not To Be Found.'
She opened it with care, the pages yellowed and fragile, edges curling slightly like dried leaves. "Look," she said, voice soft but delighted, "Puffskeins. I read about them in The Quibbler. Supposedly very cute."
I leaned closer, watching her eyes flicker as she read. There was always something enchanting about Luna when she read — the way her lips moved slightly as if she whispered to the words, coaxing them to life.
"They're round little creatures," she continued, "fluffy and friendly. They like to hum — rather like me when I'm thinking. They eat leftover crumbs and... oh." She giggled. "Sometimes bogies."
I wrinkled my nose, and she laughed, the sound echoing softly in the quiet hall. "But they're harmless, really. Do you think we could find one?"
I tilted my head, pretending to consider it, though a smile tugged at my mouth. "Where exactly would one look for a puffskein?"
"Hmm." She glanced back to the page. "It says... small dark spaces, near warmth, but not too much noise. Maybe near the kitchens? Or the owlery?"
"The kitchens," I said thoughtfully. "But sneaking there after curfew might not be the easiest thing."
Luna's eyes sparkled mischievously. "It never stopped us before."
We both suppressed a laugh as Madam Pince rustled behind the front desk, muttering about students who "treated books as if they were gossip letters." Luna leaned closer, lowering her voice.
"We should go tonight. Bring something sweet — puffskeins like sugar. Oh! Maybe I can charm one to sing."
"Sing?" I echoed, smiling wider. "Are you sure that's safe?"
She nodded seriously. "Completely not."
For a moment, I just watched her — the way light fell on her pale hair, the way her expression carried both innocence and determination. Around her, even the air seemed softer, more forgiving.
We bent over the old parchment together, sketching a little map of where puffskeins might hide. Our whispers blended with the rustling of old pages, and for that small moment, the library felt like its own secret world — full of dust, dreams, and the quiet promise of another midnight adventure.