Chapter One
Dahlia is sitting in the compartment, vacantly staring out onto the platform through the foggy window when the door slides open, and a pair of siblings come in, dragging their trunks behind them.
"You're late." James accuses, having momentarily lifted his head from her lap to observe the newcomers. He drops it back with a tired groan. A morning person he was not, and they had been woken particularly early after a late night by a Jarvey who had found a way into the pantry. It had taken hours to catch the damn thing.
"The hallway is very packed," Ava explains with a gentle smile, sitting down on the opposite bench while her brother puts away their trunks. "Everyone is excited. They all say Harry Potter will be attending Hogwarts this year."
"He is." She confirms with a faint grimace. Despite knowing this was coming, she still mourned the end of her relatively peaceful school days.
Kyle sits down, pulling out a book from a pocket, and she takes a curious peek at the title - Merpeople: A Comprehensive Guide to Their Language and Customs by Dylan Marwood. He always had the most interesting books. "It's easy to forget you're related." He comments, flipping through the pages to find the spot he had left off of. "You never speak about him."
Dahlia doesn't bother commenting on that nonchalant remark and returns her attention to the people on the platform. It was true anyway, she and Harry really did have a rather strained relationship, even if it was mainly her fault.
See, the thing is, she had died once already. Though, hell if she remembered how. It could have been a simple heart attack or the famous Japanese Truck-kun, and she couldn't care less to find out. She only knew there had been pain like she'd never felt before, and next thing she knows, she's waking up as the world's grumpiest toddler, and that was more than enough information for her, thank you very much.
That Dahlia did not remember her previous life immediately, her brain too young and too undeveloped to contain the memories of an entirely different world is one of the scarce things she was grateful for in this new life. She would have undoubtedly had long since gone mad, had she been aware during her own birth or those first few years of being a baby.
What she downright hated, on the other hand, was that she'd been somehow reborn in J.K. Rowling's fictional universe. To fucking James and Lily Potter of all people!
She felt like crying whenever she thought about it even years after her horrifying realization.
It's not like she had replaced Harry, thank fuck, but she now was his previously unmentioned in anything but fanfics older sister. Which in fact – the second horrifying realization had come days after the first and brought with it renewed hysterics – might be even worse since she was not the hero of this story. That particular role remained Harry's as far as she was aware unless in the last eleven years there had been a new secret prophecy, but that would be so cliché it was unlikely. He was the Chosen One, and she was the Girl-Who-Wasn't-Supposed-To-Exist, period. Thus, she was unlikely to possess a similar protagonist plot armor to his, and yet she was just a little less likely to be targeted by Voldemort and his Death Eater cronies. She still was one of the muggle-loving, blood-traitor Potters after all and an excellent prospective hostage.
Already, she'd survived that fateful Halloween only by sheer luck, having spent the entire day hiding in a closet just in case Rowling's got the time of the attack wrong. When Voldemort came – at the right time too, as far as she was aware – he probably hadn't even thought of the little girl who was doing her best not to make any sounds or even breathe, really, the entire time he was there. No doubt, it would have been a whole other story if he had indeed noticed her. Or maybe he had assumed he'd take care of her after he finished with Harry? Whatever the case, Dahlia lived, and that's all that mattered to her.
Make no mistake, she had tried warning the Potters, of course – she wasn't a monster – and it was in her best interests for them to remain alive, but who was going to listen to a three-year-old, no matter how precocious?
So yes, she'd been rather bitter about everything when they were left with the Dursleys, which meant she treated Harry a bit coldly at first. And after, she found it easier to avoid him altogether. How did it go again? Out of mind, out of sight, was it?
With a jerk, the train begins to move. Parents start waving and calling out last-minute advice and goodbyes as their children lean out the windows. A little red-headed girl runs after the train, half laughing, half crying until it gathered too much speed, and then she stood at the edge of the platform, waving.
"How was your summer holiday?" Ava inquires when it was clear Dahlia wasn't going to say anything more on the subject of her brother. "You spent most of it at James', no?
She smiles at the other girl, thankful for the subject change. "It was interesting." She says noncommittedly.
James snorts. "We were almost arrested by the muggle police." He explains.
The blond girl gasps, appalled, and even Kyle lifts his head from his book with a raised eyebrow. "And how did that happen?"
"Sorry, but we made a pact to never speak of it again."
"We did learn that James has a horrible sense of direction and that he should never be the one trusted with the map." Dahlia earns herself a glare for that comment, but the large grin James' face splits into immediately after told her he wasn't actually offended. It had been very funny, no one could deny that. Except for the poor policemen, but she tried not to think about that. She hoped they hadn't been traumatized too badly.
"Like you were any better, Miss-let's-obliviate-them." He reminds her.
She pouts. "It would have been a viable option."
"Yes." He retorts. "If we were allowed to use magic outside the school and if we knew how to cast it in the first place."
"You're both hopeless," Kyle informs them, looking faintly amused.
Ava giggles behind a delicate hand. "You must have done something other than whatever almost made you into juvenile criminals."
"Chores mostly." James answers in a lazy draw. "There's always a lot of those on the estate. Summer homework, of course. Dahlia learned how to ride on horses."
"Oh? How was it?"
"Absolutely lovely." She sighs, a dreamy expression flitting across her face, remembering all the afternoons they had spent racing through the fields of grass and flowers. "I loved it. Next year, I want to learn how to ride on an Abraxan."
"She's a natural." James boasts. "Only took a few bad falls in the beginning. What about you?"
"We took a family trip to Greece. Visited the gorgeous beaches, and the temples…They were so beautiful, Jamie! You should have seen them! It was…"
Dahlia leans back into the bench, and sharing a fond smile with Kyle lets the chatter of their more talkative companions fill the compartment.
It had been nice to spend an entire summer with one of her best friends, but she had missed the other two, despite writing to each other as often as possible. Even in her first life, she never had friends as close as they were.
Somewhere around noon, with some clattering, a witch with a large sweets-laden trolley stops outside their compartment and slides open their door. "Anything off the trolley, dears?"
James finally deigns to rise from her lap and reaches into his pocket for some money. "Two Pumpkin Pasties and a box of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans, please." He turns back towards them. "You want anything?"
"A Chocolate Frog, maybe? I think I'll wait until the feast to eat." Dahlia says thoughtfully.
Kyle nods in agreement. "We're quite alright, thank you."
"If you say so." James shrugs and turns back to the trolley to pay.
Coming back into the compartment, he tosses the Frog at her and collapses ungracefully back on the bench.
"Who did you get, Dah?" Ava asks.
She shrugs indifferently. "I don't actually collect those, you know."
"I'm aware. We don't either, but our younger cousins do."
"Theo and Draco, right?" Unwrapping her candy, she picks up the card. Albus Dumbledore. Of course. Perhaps Harry was also opening his own Chocolate Frog box and discovering the very same card somewhere on the train at this precise moment.
She swipes with a thumb across the golden, glittering writing as she read the vaguely familiar words.
Albus Dumbledore, currently Headmaster of Hogwarts.
Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern
Times, Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for
his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945,
For the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's
Blood and his work on alchemy with his partner,
Nicholas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys
Chamber music and tenpin bowling.
This was the Golden Trio's first mystery. The adventure that shaped their friendship from Quirrell's troll on Halloween that became the cataclysm that brought them together, to their race against time to not only discover what was hidden on the third-floor corridor but to also protect it from a Dark Lord.
She had already decided to limit her contribution if she ever got more involved than she was currently. And though her fear of accidentally changing the storyline so severely her future knowledge would be next to useless was the deciding factor behind her choice, she doubted she would regret it. After all, the Trio had succeeded without her help in the books. There was no reason they couldn't do it now.
"Dahlia?"
"Ah, sorry. Here." She hands the card to the concerned-looking Ava. "They probably both already have a Dumbledore, but they could always trade this one."
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, don't worry. Just thinking."
Thankfully, before the other girl could try probing further, the compartment door slides open yet again, revealing a pair of first-year students. She turns away from Ava's worried, pale blue eyes, feeling grateful for the interruption.
That sentiment quickly faded for a faint sense of dismay.
Bushy brown hair, rather large front teeth, dressed in her uniform with hours to go till they reach Hogwarts, and accompanied by a nervous-looking, round-faced boy? This was clearly Hermione Granger.
"Have you seen a toad? Neville lost his." She says, and Jesus, Rowling's had been right. She definitely had a bossy sort of voice. It was actually a little unpleasant even, to be addressed with that sort of tone by an eleven-year-old girl.
Kyle lowers his book, a cold sort of look on his face. "We have not. I suggest you ask an older student to use a Summoning Charm for you."
"Oh, of course. Wizards can do that." Hermione pauses, and they exchange puzzled glances when she doesn't immediately thank them and leaves. "What are you reading? I've learned all our set books by heart, of course, and I have done some background reading, but there's still so much I'm missing. Nobody has magic in my family, you know, we almost didn't believe the letter when I got it. By the way, what Houses are you in? I hope I'm going to Gryffindor, but Ravenclaw sounds nice too. Is Slytherin really the House of the bullies?"
Did Hermione go around saying something similar to everyone she encounters? Dahlia could swear that was almost exactly what she had said to Harry and Ron when she had first met them. Thought it had been a while since she had read the books, so she could be wrong… And Hermione obviously had not encountered any other Slytherin if she still went around insulting them like this. It'll be a miracle if nobody cursed her before they reached Hogwarts at this rate.
Neville fidgets nervously beside the young girl, clearly wanting to say something but too timid to do so.
"I doubt you need to know about the customs of the Merpeople in your first year." Ava finally says kindly, after a short moment of silence. "And I'm certain you will be sorted in the house you are most suited for."
Hermione looks like she's about to ask something else, but Neville gathers enough courage to tugs at her sleeve frantically, whispering something to her. The boy's not stupid, Dahlia notes approvingly. At least he's noticed that neither Kyle nor James were willing to entertain two firsties and their never-ending questions if his wary glances to her friends were anything to judge by.
"Well, thank you for your help. We'll be going then. Come along, Neville." And with that, she flounces off, bushy hair bouncing and Neville trailing after her.
"How rude." Kyle eventually murmurs. "As expected from a muggle-born."
"Don't be mean." Ava chides him. "She's just a little girl, she'll learn."
Once, Dahlia would have gotten uncomfortable with the blatant racism, but she's long since gotten used to it. It's what happened when you were friends with pure-bloods. As long as they didn't call them mudbloods or harassed them in her presence she was willing to let a few comments slide. They couldn't help it, she had reasoned when they had first met, they were raised to think that way by their own parents and their parents before them by their parents for generations. Besides, they were far from the worst. There were plenty who were much more overt with their disgust for the muggle-born. James, Ava, and Kyle only mostly thought of them as uneducated country bumpkins who were unwilling to learn the customs of the new society they were entering. Being seen with a book on wizard traditions and practices had helped Dahlia a lot with her own social standing.
"So, what were you saying about divination, Kyle?" She changes the subject back to the one they were on before being interrupted by the Trolley witch.
"That it is a useless class unless you already possess the gift of foresight. I do hope none of you took it, even for the easy marks. Dumbledore should have gotten rid of it ages ago." He huffs.
"Nah. I've got Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies." James says.
"Muggle Studies? Why would you need Muggle Studies of all classes?" Kyle's nose wrinkles in disgust.
"We occasionally deal with muggles too, so mum insisted," The brunet explains indifferently. "Anything for the family business, you know?"
"And you, Dahlia? None of that nonsense from you I expect."
"Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures." She lists, lips twitching in amusement. She used to be a twenty-first-century muggle, she definitely did not need Muggle Studies.
Ava frowns. "Are you certain? That's a pretty heavy course load."
"I'll probably drop Care of Magical Creatures in sixth year." She shrugs. "It seems like something you should know at least the basics off, but I'm not planning on working with animals after we graduate." And this way, she'll have Hagrid as her teacher for only a year. Not that she had anything against him, but he clearly wasn't the best suited for teaching.
"I suppose it's not a bad idea." Ava concedes. "I'll be taking Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, like Kyle. And maybe take Art or Music as an extra-curricular subject, I haven't decided yet."
"You have one more week to choose for extra-curricular, right?" James recalls.
"Yes. Which is why I want to wait and see, they allow you to visit the older classes."
For the next long while, they entertain themselves by debating the pros and cons of magical art and music, trying to decide which of the two classes would suit Ava best. Personally, Dahlia was all for the music course. She'd seen a magical art lesson in progress once through an open door and had been far from impressed. As a former amateur hobbyist painter, the sight of a group of students using only their wands as tools to spell on images onto blank canvas had offended her previously unknown sensibilities, but she knew trying to convince the other girl to take the Muggle Art class instead was a futile endeavor. And although she suspected magical music similarly used magic to play the instruments, Ava had a beautiful voice and would make a wonderful singer.
"What about chants?" She scrambles desperately for something, anything when it becomes clear she's about to lose the debate. "You're one of Professor Flitwick's favorites, maybe he would be willing to teach you how to sing spell?
The others paused, surprised.
"That is…" Kyle trails off thoughtfully.
"A very good idea." Ava finished for her brother. "Good job, Dahlia."
She grins victoriously in response and leans back into the seat, practically radiating smugness. She knew reading all those history books wouldn't be useless!
James turns to the window, and she thinks he'll start sulking now. He had wanted Ava to choose the art classes, if only for the sake of winning the argument rather than having any real desire of seeing her in them.
To her surprise, he doesn't.
"I reckon it's time to get changed. It's getting dark." He says instead, standing up. "We'll let you girls go first."
Kyle murmurs a spell while tapping his wand on the windows looking out to the corridor, and also steps out. Behind him, the glass slowly darkens until it was impossible to see through.
They change quickly, helping each other smooth out wrinkles and tie their ties correctly. Ava's uniform is of noticeably better quality than hers, but neither does she look like a Weasley in their obvious second-hand clothes. She hadn't seen the need to buy expensive clothes when she was only going to use them for a year before she outgrew them again, so she'd bought her robes already used and then had them magically fixed up by a seamstress until they looked like new. It was still less costly than brand-new ones, and for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why the Weasleys didn't do the same.
When they're done, it's their turn to loiter in front of the compartment door. It gradually grows more chaotic in the corridor as students start getting ready for disembarking. Prefects rush to and from compartments as they try to warn everyone of their imminent arrival, and the other students run back to their original seats for their things having previously left to go greet friends.
As Dahlia steps out of the way of a harried-looking firstie, a voice echoes through the train. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
The boys join them just as the train starts slowing down, and they start making their way towards the closest door leading to the outside, pushing their way through the rapidly growing mass of students. Already, they could hear Hagrid call for the first years.
"That oaf," James mutters, probably not intending to be heard above the din of the crowd. "We haven't even stopped yet."
It was cold outside, and she wraps her arms around herself once she steps off the train, shivering. Ava sniffs daintily beside her, leaning into her brother's side for warmth.
They follow the rough dirt road leading from the platform to the stagecoaches, and just like the previous year, she has to studiously avoid looking at their front. Thestrals, Dahlia found, are even more creepy in reality than in the movies. Perhaps it was how disturbingly thin they were, their skin clinging to a fleshless skeleton. Or maybe it was their eyes, pupil-less and white, but unmistakeably still able to see the students walking around them.
The journey towards the castle is spent in silence, each of them content to lean back into the lumpy seats as the carriage rattled and swayed beneath them up the long, sloping drive.
Their quiet is broken only after they walk through the giant oak front doors of the castle, past the cavernous entrance hall, and finally, stop beside the doorway leading to the Great Hall.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" Ava asks.
"The usual time, the usual place," James confirms it.
With a nod, they split up, heading towards their respective House tables; Ava to Hufflepuff, Kyle to Ravenclaw and James and her to Slytherin.
Her usual spot - somewhere near the middle of the table - is still empty, so she settles down with a pleased sigh before cordially greeting her Housemates. It was good to be back, despite all the trouble that will soon start.
"How was your summer, Potter?" Zabini inquiries from the seat in front of hers.
"Pleasant." She replies. "How was yours?"
"Enjoyable."
They share a quick smile and turn towards the front as a long line of scared first years enters, led by Professor McGonagall, who was carrying a four-legged stool on which sat an ancient wizard's hat. It was frayed and dirty and getting worse with each year; Aunt Petunia would have never let it into the house and would not have been the only one. She could hardly believe she'd willingly consented to wear that rag.
The noise in the Great Hall fades away, and she feels the first threads of anxiety curl in her stomach. She'd been avoiding thinking about it, but what if her presence had changed something and Harry didn't go to Gryffindor? What was she supposed to do then? Her foreknowledge would be completely useless before the story even got properly started.
The Sorting Hat might have been signing, but it was as if she was underwater, everything muffled and distorted. She clenches her suddenly clammy hands in her skirt.
A little girl with blond pigtails staggers out of the line of first years, puts on the hat, and almost immediately is sent to Hufflepuff.
The next one is also Hufflepuff, but the first boy called up is a Ravenclaw.
Ravenclaw again, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Slytherin, Hufflepuff…
Hermione ended up in Gryffindor, of course…
Neville forgot he was wearing the hat and had to return to give it to the next student…
Slytherin for Draco Malfoy, already swaggering around like his father…
The crowd of first years slowly thinned, and finally, finally, Professor McGonagall calls for 'Potter, Harry'.
Her brother stumbles towards the stool with a rather queasy face, a crooked tie, and an untucked shirt, she distantly notices unsurprised. Like most little boys, Harry has never cared much about his appearance beyond complaining about Dudley's old clothes.
He sits down on the creaking stool, and the hat drops over his eyes.
It was not a Hatstall, but nonetheless, the seconds seem to stretch for an infinity. The Hall is deadly silent, everyone waiting for the result with bated breath.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
She gasps and slumps forward on the table in relief. The Gryffindor table was going nuts, cheering, and jumping around. She thinks she hears the Weasley twins chanting something, but it's indistinct, lost amidst the rest of the yelling.
James nudges her with an elbow and cocks a questioning eyebrow when she looks up at him.
"I was terrified he'd end up with us." She admits with a weak smile.
"Really?"
"Yeah." She sighs and gestures with a slight move of her head at a quartet of their Housemates sitting not far from them. They were unsubtly glaring at Harry.
James winces. "Right. That."
The rest of the first years are sorted in quick order, the last one, Zabini's younger cousin, going to Slytherin, and Professor McGonagall rolls up her scroll and takes the Sorting Hat away.
The Headmaster gets up to his feet, beaming and spreading open his arms wide. "Welcome!" He greets. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
Dahlia vaguely remembered this from the books, so unperturbed she reaches for the potatoes while the rest of her table exchanges confused glances. Even for Dumbledore that was a little strange.
"So, Harry Potter." Burke begins, and she scowls at him.
"Yes, he's my brother, no, I'm not telling you anything else. Don't you dare bother him, Craig Burke."
"Alright, alright, no need to bite my head off, Potter." He laughs. "Pass the chicken."
"That goes for the rest of you as well." She tells the rest of her unashamedly eavesdropping Housemates.
They grumble a bit but don't argue either. She knows they weren't going to let this go, not yet anyway, but for now, it was enough for her.
Conversations pick up around them, and she lets herself be pulled into one about brooms.
Eventually, the last of the dessert disappear, and Dumbledore stands once again.
He gives a short cough, bringing the students' attention to him. "Just a few more words now that we are fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Here, his twinkling eyes flash in the direction of the Gryffindor table. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
A few people laugh, but her Housemates mainly react to that announcement by glowering at the Headmaster in discontent. They were of the opinion that anything life-threatening had no place in their school and were not happy with Dumbledore for allowing something that dangerous inside.
Already, it was clear that several of the Gryffindors will try their luck and brave the third-floor corridor, and since she knew the door could be unlocked by a simple Unlocking Charm – a first-year spell – she will be very surprised if no one other than Professor Snape ends up mauled by Hagrid's darling Fluffy by the end of the term.
Truly, what possessed Dumbledore to keep a full-grown Cerberus in a school filled with curious, disobedient children and then announce it to everyone in a way that guaranteed someone will go exploring without fail…
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore cries, giving a little flick of his wand and ignoring the displeased murmuring of the students. A long golden ribbon rises high above the tables and twists itself into words. "Everyone pick your favorite tune, and off we go!"
Much of her table remains stubbornly silent as it does every year, too proud to sing such a song, and most of the teachers accompany them, fixed smiles on their faces.
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff,
For now, they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So, teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we've forgot,
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot."
The Weasley twins are the last to finish, having chosen a very slow funeral march, and Dumbledore conducts the remaining notes with his wand.
"I feel like digging a rusted spoon in my ears every time I hear this." James hisses to her.
She nods in agreement. "This can't be traditional. Can you imagine Salazar Slytherin agreeing to this? Besides, they would have been speaking in West Saxon when they founded the school." She pauses. "Or it could have been Gaelic. Or Norse. Or even Norman French." Burke throws her an incredulous glance, which she ignores, more interested in solving her self-posed riddle. "I know! They must have spoken in Latin. It makes the most sense what with our spells being bastardized Latin."
"Ah, music," Dumbledore says, wiping his eyes, and Zabini scoffs at his dramatics. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
Prefects start calling for the first years, and they deftly avoid the forming mass of tiny, sleepy students and make their way down to the dungeons in a small group.
They're stalled at the entrance of the Common Room for a moment with no knowledge of the new password, but they're rescued from their predicament by another group of older students.
"It's Boomslang." Malfoy – named the Older in her mind, for he was Draco's older cousin – informs them with a wink, and they, at long last, enter the place that will serve as their home until the next summer.
It was like a scene from a mysterious, underwater shipwreck, thanks to the large windows looking out into the depths of the Black Lake, where from time to time, bioluminescent fishes will flash by. The furniture, of black and dark green color, is elegant and tasteful, while the rough stone walls are not only beautifully carved but are also covered in tapestries depicting the adventures of famous Medieval Slytherins.
It's grand but quite cold, and Dahlia likes it that way. It may be nothing like the homey Gryffindor Common Room or Hufflepuff Basement or even the library-like Ravenclaw Tower, yet they wouldn't change it for the world.
They are soon joined by their new firsties, and she amuses herself by trying to pick out the ones she knew while the prefects talked. Draco Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle was the easiest, but Pansy Parkinson wasn't much harder to identify, already looking all love-struck at the blond. Theodore Nott was much harder, and she eventually spots him in a corner, hidden behind the bulk of Millicent Bulstrode. Blaise Zabini stuck out like a sore thumb with his Mediterranean skin tone in the middle of all the English pasty white.
With the customary yearly greetings – and warnings – done, everyone starts dispersing to their respective dorms, yawning and shuffling.
"Good night," James tells her sleepily.
"Good night." She repeats to him and stifles a yawn.
Their dormitories, circularly-shaped and intended for five people, are much like the Common Room, with sophisticated dark furniture and carved but rough stone walls, yet lacking the tapestries. The four-poster beds are draped with green silk hangings and equally green silk bed sheets, while the floor is obscured by a Persian rug depicting intertwined silver snakes. But her favorite part was the ceiling. After a small extension of stone just above the beds, it gave way to a large dome of glass that colored the room in a green tinge. It was gorgeous.
Their trunks had already arrived, so she quickly starts transferring her things to the big chest standing at the foot of her bed. She knew she would never get properly unpacked if she didn't do it now.
The other girls do the same, speaking in whispers and softly giggling. They were all tired.
She taps with her wand the closest silver-wrought lantern to dim the light and slips under the warm sheets of her bed. The hangings slide close, muting the noise of her roommates also getting ready for bed, and sleep claims her quickly.
She doesn't dream.
I don't own Harry Potter. Anything you recognize is Rowling's.