"You do have to play along a bit," Harper demands, and only partly joking, as the stairs lead us up to the Ravenclaw Tower in the middle of the night. "Come on, Tom …"

In a few hours, a perfectly normal Wednesday will begin, after the most absurd Tuesday of our lives, but my tired body still won't let me forget Samhain that soon. I can hardly move.

Harper's therefore a considerable support to me, and as much as I hate being reminded of my mortality – I'm glad I'm not alone now, and I'm glad she's holding me up.

"Tom," she hums again, ever so quietly, "I can't fully carry you, come on now –"

"We should've just chosen the dungeon," I remind her stopping, breathing heavily, to lean against one of the cold, arched walls. "The stairs are killing me –"

"If Hades couldn't, those stairs hardly will. But I do think Elliott needs to get you to run with him more regularly …"

"Harper, I almost died about half an hour ago."

"I know, I recall," she chuckles. "I'm just teasing, but we're almost there. It's so much more comfortable in the tower than in the dungeons, so move!"

"You find the dungeons uncomfortable?"

"Yes." She doesn't even blink. "I do."

I only shrug my shoulders. "Still more comfortable than the orphanage or Nurmengard."

And then it becomes visible anyway – the Ravenclaw gate with no handle and an eagle-shaped knocker that's already driven me mad time and time again.

Because that watchful bronze eagle only grants entry after a riddle got successfully solved – a circumstance that Ravenclaws find oh so amusing and thus illustrates why they didn't make it into Slytherin. Horribly inefficient and anachronistic.

"What came first?" the eagle asks as we keep approaching. "The phoenix or the flame?"

"Not birds again," I groan, proceeding to massage my temples. I still suffer from a throbbing headache, but at least my temperature seems to have gone back to normal.

"Chicken or egg," Harper thinks out loud. "In the other world, they argue about the chicken and the egg …"

"But the other world could never quite agree on either." I give her a wary glance. "So we'll be standing here forever."

"Tom, it's usually enough to just give a clever answer," she tries to motivate me.

"You mean pseudo-intellectually? Do go ahead then."

"No, I have to do this every day," she whispers. "After some years, it gets increasingly annoying …"

I can't help but grin. "Maybe you would've been a good Slytherin after all."

"Never!" she replies, winking.

After a moment's thought, I finally tell the old bronze bird, "An eternal circle has no beginning?"

That eagle is regularly stealing too much time from far too many people, but at least tonight, it lets us pass straight through.
Maybe because it knows another problem's already waiting behind the portal …

"Not again," Hornby growls as soon as we enter – we're running right into his arms. "Why won't you two just stay in the dungeons, huh?"

"So the party's already over?" Harper ignores his rhetorics, looking around the empty, circular common room almost in a tad of disappointment.

"It's half past four in the morning," Hornby replies as though that made any further question entirely unnecessary, and he's not even trying to hide his astonishment.

"And yet," I groan, "you're wide awake to stand in our way."

"I have my reasons," he claims, no less acidly. Then, however, he lowers his gaze to the ground, almost lost in thought. "Halloween was … Halloween was my father's birthday. I've never been able to sleep that night ever since he died. And he actually hated it when people called it Halloween. To him, it was Reformation Day."

"The birth of Protestantism," I add, eyeing him closely for a reaction.

"Indeed, but what would you know about it, Riddle?" He folds his arms over his chest, raising his chin in childish defiance. "You don't know the other world, do you? So better not talk about it."

"I grew up in an orphanage in non-magical London, Hornby. Rest assured I know each and every world."

"An … an orphanage?" He even blinks twice, lost for words for a moment there. "You grew up … without parents?"

"Rather stupid question for a Ravenclaw given the very definition, don't you think?" I retort. "And if you'll excuse us now – it was quite the night."

He shakes his head in irritation, quickly shifting his gaze to Harper. "Did he actually tell me something true about himself?"

She winks. "Signs and wonders, huh?" Yawning, she holds on to me as I gently push her past him. "Sorry," she whispers, "we're exhausted – good night, Dean."

"Riddle?"

I pause, exasperated, and turn around one last time.

"I won't tell anyone," he informs me. "I promise."

I sigh, rolling my eyes. "Shout it from the rooftop if you feel like it," I hiss, "I couldn't care less."

He gives me an annoyingly sympathetic smile. "No. I won't tell anyone."

"Do whatever your intellect implies."

He just nods. As though we'd share a secret now.

"Incredible," Harper then softly breathes against my ear as we collapse into the blankets and pillows of our preferred arched window's ledge. One of many spots designed as reading nooks in the common room. Just wide enough for both of us and away from the others.

The view of the Highlands is even more enchanting by night, and the warm glow of the magical stars from the domed ceiling high above us boldly rival the real stars in the sky.

"What's incredible?" I whisper as I pull Harper closer into my arms. She's everything. The sun to my moon. Yet I only jest, "This evening?" I suggest on, "Dean? That Dumbledore is being called Al by his old love?"

She has to laugh so suddenly that she immediately presses her hand to her mouth – to not wake anyone up, but I can hardly stop myself as well. It's as absurd as it gets.

"Is this going to happen every Halloween now?" she eventually asks while we're reverently watching the water surface of the Black Lake.

"Probably. Well, tough luck … But that was a neat Protego Diabolica today. Suits you well."

"Blue fire?" She gives me a gloomy smile. "That only worked with Vivian and Queenie. I'd tried it without them to no avail before we arrived in Austria."

"It's about time we start practicing in the Room of Requirement again. The duels in particular will be a significant score in our finals."

"The whole group has gotten a lot better," she mumbles into my chest. "You should be proud of that. You brought it to life."

"They're capable of even greater things," I decide. "So are you." I look at her for what feels like forever, and I smile.

"And you," she says, oddly content. "So much greater things, Tom. But first …" She snuggles up to me and whispers, "Sleep."

I breathe a kiss onto her forehead, quietly reproaching, "You shouldn't have followed me tonight. You shouldn't have been in Austria …"

"I was where I wanted to be. We support each other, remember?"

"Oh, well … My arm's already becoming numb – is that my part in it?"

"Maybe, yeah," she murmurs, already with her eyes closed.

Her breathing is becoming more regular, as so often. Only I can't seem to get a wink of sleep. As so often …

"I'm wide awake," I voice it under my breath at some point, just to glance out the window in vain. Nothing distracts me, nothing's catching my attention.

"Shall we chat, then?" I hear her ask. "What's keeping you awake?"

"You almost got into a moral conflict over a soup tonight."

"But I didn't order any, did I?"

"Only because you hate him."

"One of us has to. You keep trying to be conciliatory for that madman and you always willingly expose yourself to the singing of the sirens –"

"I do have a fondness for walking a fine, rational line …"

"Rationality can be dangerous, though," she claims. Her voice is so soothing, even if she wants to argue. "It's principles can never capture the world in all its colours."

"Of course it can," I mutter, yawning.

"Nonsense," she whispers, pointing out the window, up into the sky. "What do you see?"

Suddenly, I can feel it. I'm getting tired, too. Still I say, "Stars?"

"Yeah," she confirms, not taking her eyes off them. "Shining celestial bodies, like tiny little suns. Who could ever understand how far away they are, and how old? Or who created them, and why they've continued to glow ever since … How far will rationality take us with that?" I can feel Harper's heartbeat on mine, and my eyelids are getting heavy. "Anyone trying to banish myths," she quietly continues, "is excluding the inexplicable, which, however, undoubtedly exists. This discrepancy cannot be explained. Can it? I mean, love cannot be explained rationally. And yet I feel it for you … We are … Oh, have you fallen asleep? Tom? Are you still listening?"

"Somewhat," I whisper.

"You don't even look at the stars anymore."

"No – you are my sky."

"Oh." I don't need to see it, I know she's blushing. "How irrational."

She lays her head on my chest again, and I link my arm around her waist, hugging her tightly to me.

"Inexplicable …"