Dionida and Luna tried very hard to focus on normal school life again. Unfortunately, normal and Hogwarts rarely mixed well—and especially not in Snape's classroom.
They slid into their seats, Luna humming softly, Dionida trying to appear calm even though her stomach still twisted every time she imagined enormous serpents. Snape swept into the room like a thundercloud with a grudge.
"Today," he announced, "you will brew a simple—and I emphasize simple—Deflating Draught. Perhaps, by some miracle, at least one of you will manage not to explode something."
Dionida exchanged a look with Luna that said: We are absolutely not that student.
Everything started suspiciously smoothly. They cut ingredients. They heated the cauldron. Luna stirred counter-clockwise—but only because Dionida whispered the direction three times. Even the Slytherins seemed calm.
Then, it happened.
A single blonde puff of fur peeked out from Luna's bag.
"Luna…" Dionida hissed.
"Yes?"
"Why is your bag… breathing?"
Before Luna could answer, the tiny bowtruckle they rescued earlier leapt out, skittering across the table like a caffeinated stick insect. It grabbed a piece of dried hemlock and hurled it into the cauldron with the precision of a Quidditch seeker.
The potion reacted instantly.
PFOOOF!
A gigantic, wobbling bubble erupted from their cauldron, expanding like a monstrous purple balloon.
Snape turned at the exact worst possible second.
His eyes widened.
The bubble touched the ceiling—
BOOOOM!
Purple foam exploded across the entire room, showering every student, dripping from ceiling beams, and coating Snape like an angry, dripping lavender snowman.
Everyone froze.
Snape slowly wiped foam off his face, one finger at a time.
"Lovegood," he whispered, "what… was in your bag?"
"A friend," Luna replied cheerfully. "He gets curious."
Dionida tried to hide the bowtruckle behind her textbook. It poked its leafy head out and waved at Snape.
Snape did not wave back.
But just as he opened his mouth to assign enough detentions to last until their grandchildren graduated, the foam activated—
A loud SPLORP filled the room as every cauldron, desk, and robe began shrinking rapidly.
Neville's cauldron folded into itself like a scared turtle.
Parvati's desk snapped down to doll size.
Ron Weasley shrieked because his sleeves suddenly dangled like oversized curtains.
Luna observed all this with a dreamy smile.
"Oh look, Dionida! Everything's deflating. The potion is working."
Snape's left eye trembled.
"It," he said through clenched teeth, "was not supposed to work on furniture."
Dionida coughed. "At least no one exploded?"
This was apparently the wrong thing to say.
Snape inhaled sharply, ready to unleash fury—but at that exact moment, Filch rushed in, slipping on foam and landing face-first in a puddle. When he looked up, he spotted Dionida's cat, who had followed her to class and was currently chasing bubbles.
Filch froze.
"Oh… the little beauty again," he muttered, eyes softening. "Such a good cat."
Snape stared at Filch. Filch stared at the cat. The cat licked foam off its paw.
Luna leaned toward Dionida and whispered, "I think your cat just saved us."
Snape sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and said the most surprising sentence of the year:
"Get out. All of you. Before anything else shrinks, explodes, or… meows."
The class fled like escaping house-elves.
Outside in the hallway, laughter erupted.
Luna patted the bowtruckle affectionately.
"Good job today," she told him. "Great aim."
Dionida shook her head, grinning despite herself.
"We're going to get banned from Potions one day."
"Probably," Luna agreed happily. "But at least the lesson wasn't boring."
Herbology: Luna's Moment of Glory
After the spectacular disaster in Potions—and the lingering lavender smell that followed Dionida all morning—both she and Luna walked toward the greenhouses determined to behave like model students.
"Today," Dionida whispered, "we make no bubbles, no explosions, no shrinking, and no surprise creatures."
The bowtruckle peeked out of Luna's hair.
"…and no throwing ingredients," Dionida added firmly.
Luna nodded, though her dreamy smile suggested she couldn't guarantee anything.
Greenhouse Three glowed warm and misty, light pooling through the glass walls. Professor Sprout was bustling around with earthy gloves and a sun hat shaped like a lopsided mushroom.
"Settle in, everyone! Today we're working with Bitterblossom Folds, a shy species that reacts strongly to mood and energy. Very delicate. Very temperamental."
She gave Neville a reassuring pat on the shoulder immediately, which was… a wise precaution.
The students gathered around the long wooden tables. Each pot contained a clump of leaves curled inward like a sleeping hedgehog. Written cards warned in bright red:
Do NOT poke.
Do NOT whisper insults.
Do NOT show fear.
Ron stared at his plant suspiciously. "How do you not show fear to a plant?"
"Think brave thoughts," Hermione said, already taking notes.
Luna leaned over her plant, humming softly.
Dionida just hoped nothing would emit fireworks.
Professor Sprout placed a hand on her hips.
"For today's assignment, each pair must observe and describe the state of their Bitterblossom. Ten points for every correct identification."
The class immediately buzzed with guessing.
Neville muttered, "Mine looks offended."
Parvati claimed hers was "slightly judgmental."
Dean insisted his was just asleep.
Dionida squinted at her own pot.
"It looks… moody. Like it's waiting to decide if it likes me."
"That's because it is," Luna said calmly. She knelt, tilting her head until her hair fell like a golden curtain. Her plant slowly uncurled its top leaf, as if shyly peeking out.
Professor Sprout lit up.
"Miss Lovegood, remarkable! And what do you observe?"
Luna gently brushed her fingers over the soil—not touching the plant, just the earth.
"It's not shy at all," she said softly. "It's anxious. The soil is too cold. Bitterblossoms hate cold roots. They curl in to protect themselves."
The class fell silent.
Sprout beamed with genuine delight.
"Absolutely correct! Ten points to Ravenclaw! And another ten for excellent environmental sensitivity!"
Dionida blinked. "Luna… how did you know?"
Luna shrugged lightly.
"It told me," she said simply.
Sprout laughed, the way someone laughs when they realize a student might genuinely be talking to their plants.
"Well done! Everyone, warm the soil of your pots a little. Hands only, no wands."
The students leaned forward to warm their pots with their palms. The greenhouse filled with soft breathing and quiet murmurs.
Luna's Bitterblossom fully uncurled, revealing a cluster of tiny silver flowers that shimmered like frost.
Sprout gasped.
"But it's months early! Oh, this is wonderful!"
She pointed proudly. "Class, observe—Miss Lovegood's plant is flourishing because she listened. This is a rare response."
Hermione looked impressed.
Neville looked inspired.
Ron looked confused.
Dionida whispered, "That's amazing."
Luna's eyes sparkled.
"It's easy. You just have to feel how things feel."
The bowtruckle on her shoulder nodded its tiny leafy head in agreement.
Before the end of class, the Bitterblossom in Luna's pot released a soft puff of glowing pollen that drifted up in a silver swirl. It didn't explode, shrink anything, or set anyone on fire.
This alone felt like a miracle.
Sprout clapped her gloves.
"Another ten points to Ravenclaw! Luna, exceptional work."
Luna smiled, delighted but calm in her usual airy way.
Dionida nudged her, grinning.
"You're going to single-handedly win the House Cup at this rate."
Luna blinked.
"Oh no, I don't think so. But if we find Nargles later, we might."
Dionida wasn't sure that was how House Points worked, but she didn't correct her.
The class ended with everyone in much better spirits than they began, and for once, Dionida and Luna had created zero disasters.
Snape would have fainted if he'd seen it.