The morning air in the greenhouses was thick with the scent of damp earth and something faintly sour. Rows of bubbling pots lined the tables, steam rising like ghosts from cauldrons of soil.
Professor Sprout stood at the front, beaming, her wide hat slightly askew. "Now then, class — today we'll be repotting Mandragora officinarum. Mandrakes," she added, clapping her hands. "They may look harmless, but they're noisy little things. Ear muffs on, everyone!"
I slipped mine over my ears, glancing at Luna, who was tying hers in an oddly loose bow, as if she wanted to still hear the Mandrakes sing.
"Luna," I mouthed.
She grinned. "Just curious."
Professor Sprout raised a hand, and the class began pulling small Mandrakes out of their pots. Each root wriggled and screamed — though none of us could hear it properly, thank Merlin.
Neville Longbottom, a few rows down, looked pale but determined.
Our Mandrake, however, was smaller than the rest — a strange, pale thing with tiny fingers clutching the edge of the pot. I carefully tugged, but it refused to move.
Luna tilted her head. "It's scared."
I blinked. "Scared?"
She nodded with certainty. "They can feel emotions, you know. It's probably shy."
Before I could argue, she reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a tiny tuft of puffskein fur she'd kept from the other night's reading. She waved it gently near the Mandrake.
To everyone's shock — and Professor Sprout's delight — the little Mandrake uncurled its hands and climbed right out on its own, no screaming at all.
Sprout hurried over, her boots squelching in the soil. "Well I'll be…! Never seen one come out that calmly before! Ten points to Ravenclaw for creativity!"
Luna beamed and set the Mandrake into its new pot with gentle hands. I patted the soil around it, and it gave a small yawn before burrowing down again.
"Make that twenty," Sprout added after a moment, grinning at the two of us. "For teamwork."
We both blushed beneath our earmuffs, exchanging a proud look.
As the rest of the class struggled with their shrieking Mandrakes, Luna whispered, "I think it liked the puffskein scent. They must be connected somehow."
"Or you're secretly half-plant," I teased.
She smiled dreamily. "That would explain a lot."
After class, word spread quickly that we'd managed to calm a Mandrake without a single scream. Even Hermione stopped us in the corridor to ask how we'd done it.
Luna only shrugged and said, "Kindness, mostly."
By dinner, the Ravenclaw table was buzzing with pride.
Snape passed by, giving us both a sharp look, but we just sat taller. For once, even he couldn't take points away.
That night, before sleep, we wrote in our journal again — under the section titled "Creatures and Curiosities" — adding a new entry:
> Mandrakes respond to gentleness. Maybe not all roots want to be pulled — some want to be invited.
The following morning, sunlight spilled lazily through the Ravenclaw tower windows, brushing across our notebooks, quills, and half-empty teacups. Luna was already perched on the windowsill, legs crossed, eyes scanning the pages of one of her father's older magazines.
I walked in, rubbing sleep from my eyes. "Morning, Luna. Still thinking about Mandrakes?"
She shook her head, her hair tumbling around her face in a silver cascade. "No… I was reading about something far rarer." She tapped a yellowed page with a careful finger. "Have you ever heard of Glimmerlings?"
I leaned over, squinting at the grainy illustration. Tiny, iridescent creatures hovered over water, their wings sparkling like fractured starlight. "They're… real?"
Luna's eyes twinkled with delight. "Supposedly, yes. But only if you know where to look. And they're very shy. Almost impossible to find unless you understand their habits… and maybe bring the right food."
I chuckled. "Of course. Another impossible creature. Should we make another night adventure out of it?"
She nodded eagerly. "Absolutely. We can plan carefully this time. No near-collisions with Professors, werewolves, or screaming Mandrakes."
We spent the morning poring over her father's notes, cross-referencing old magical creature guides in the library, and quietly laughing at some of the stranger suggestions — like whispering poetry to the creatures or leaving tiny glass beads as gifts.
By afternoon, our notebooks were filled with sketches, theories, and a checklist for what we would need: lanterns, soft gloves, a small jar of honey, a quiet demeanor, and perhaps the patience of a centaur.
Even Hermione peered at our table from across the library. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, books stacked high, quill moving at a furious pace. Ron and Harry flitted around her, whispering frantically. The scene was chaotic, yet we remained tucked behind our own pile of books, invisible in our quiet plotting.
Luna leaned close, eyes gleaming. "We must be very still, Dionida. Glimmerlings notice everything — even your heartbeats."
I suppressed a grin. "Do you think they notice your heartbeats too?"
"Only if they like you," she said lightly, smiling.
By evening, we had everything packed in a small satchel. The Ravenclaw tower was quiet, the moon just beginning to climb into a sky scattered with stars. My cat purred as if sensing adventure, brushing against our legs insistently.
We slipped down the spiral staircases and out into the grounds, hearts quick with the thrill of secrecy and discovery. The castle slept around us, the wind rustling through the trees like a hushed applause.
As we approached the first small pond marked in Luna's notes, she stopped, crouching low. "We must move slowly… the Glimmerlings are shy around sudden movements or loud sounds. Even breathing too loudly might startle them."
I crouched beside her, careful not to move too quickly. The water shimmered under the moonlight, each ripple a mirror of silver. And then…
A tiny flash of iridescence danced over the surface, darting like a living fragment of light.
Luna's eyes widened. "There! Do you see it?"
I held my breath. A second, then another. The pond shimmered with delicate, winged glimmers, moving in patterns that were almost musical.
"They're… beautiful," I whispered, completely captivated.
She nodded, pencil poised over her sketchbook. "And we're the first to see them tonight. They trust us a little already."
We stayed for hours, silent, watching the tiny creatures twirl and hover. Luna occasionally whispered facts she had read, or observations about their behavior, while I sketched quickly, trying to capture every flicker of starlight in their wings.
It was only when the first hints of dawn touched the horizon that we crept back to the castle — exhausted, exhilarated, and full of secrets that no one else could share.
Back in the Ravenclaw common room, we collapsed on the floor beside the fire, laughter spilling softly.
"They're even more magical than I imagined," I murmured.
Luna's hand found mine instinctively. "Magic is always more than what you see, Dionida."