firecracker ???

Halloween at Hogwarts was a lavish affair. The Great Hall was decked out in floating pumpkins, flickering candles, and the kind of magical ambience that dazzled first-years. Elestara sat at the Slytherin table, poking absently at her dinner. Her plate was full, but her appetite was not.

She missed home.

The sounds and smells of Malfoy Manor during autumn, the way Narcissa always had cinnamon and star anise steeping in a cauldron near the hearth, the crispness of Wiltshire air before the holidays—it all made her heart twist.

That morning, a box had arrived with her name embossed in green foil. Inside were all her favourites: sugar-dusted apple tarts, candied ginger squares, spiced honey biscuits, dark chocolate thins, and a handwritten card from Narcissa in her neat script:

For my brightest star. Stay brilliant.

The parchment now lay folded in the pocket of her robes. She'd smiled when she received it. But now, surrounded by noise and floating pumpkins, her chest felt hollow.

Draco, noticing, nudged her. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"Anywhere but here. You're miserable and it's annoying me."

She rolled her eyes but stood.

They slipped out of the Great Hall without drawing attention. Draco waited for her outside the corridor while she slipped into the girls' lavatory.

Inside, she found Hermione Granger hunched over the sink, shoulders shaking.

Elestara blinked. "Are you... crying?"

Hermione jerked upright, eyes wide. She sniffed. "No."

Elestara sighed, annoyed. "You're not even good at lying."

Hermione grabbed her bag and brushed past her, muttering something about being fine.

"Clearly," Elestara muttered under her breath. She turned to the mirror and began fixing her braid.

Outside, Draco leaned against the wall, arms crossed, grumbling about how long she was taking.

After a minute or two, he sighed dramatically. "Honestly, how long does it take to fix a braid?"

Bored, he glanced around, then slipped into the boys' bathroom across the corridor.

Inside, he examined himself in the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair, fixing a stubborn strand. Tilted his head. Smoothed his collar. Checked his shoes.

He was mid-sigh when the ground trembled slightly. A growl echoed off the stone.

Draco looked up, eyes narrowing.

The tremor passed quickly, and the noise didn't come again. Still, something in his gut twisted. He stepped out of the boys' bathroom, brushing off his robes, only to catch a foul scent wafting from the opposite corridor. Then, faintly, a thudding sound.

His stomach dropped.

"Lyra?" he called sharply, panic blooming in his chest as he sprinted toward the girls' bathroom.

At that moment, Harry and Ron had managed to sneak away from the group of students being herded back to their dormitories. They were supposed to be following the prefects, but after overhearing some panicked muttering about a troll and remembering Hermione had never come back to the feast, they exchanged a look and bolted.

They sprinted down the corridor toward the bathrooms, convinced she was still sulking somewhere nearby. When they threw open the door, it wasn't Hermione they found.