firecracker ???

Hogwarts was glowing.

Summer light spilled through every stained-glass window, flooding the corridors with gold. The stone floors were warm beneath their shoes, and the air smelled faintly of lilacs and lemon polish. It was the last day—the true last day—and the castle felt like it knew.

Even the staircases behaved.

There was no rush. No panic. No scrambling for books or shrieking about exams. Just light. Just stillness. Just the feeling that something had been completed.

And that something mattered.

Draco, Lyra, and Harry walked side by side for their final patrol. Their Head Boy and Girl badges caught the late afternoon sun, glinting like polished medals—proof of all they had earned. Of what they had become.

The hallways were mostly empty, save for a few first-years lingering outside their common rooms, clearly hoping to catch a glimpse of the trio that had made history.

They got what they came for.

"Five points from Ravenclaw," Draco said, gesturing vaguely to a group of eleven-year-olds camped out by the staircases. "Excessive loitering. Lurking. Suspicious behavior."

"We're not loitering!" one of them cried indignantly.

"You are now," Lyra replied, deadpan.

Harry leaned against the wall, arms folded, looking every inch the insufferable hero he had become. "Honestly, we're being generous. Back in my day, we faced trolls and possessed professors. You lot can handle a fine."

The kids stared at them like they were already legends in a textbook.

They continued on.

Past the History classroom where Remus was carefully sorting through essays and journals, humming softly to himself. The room was quiet—safe. Harry paused at the threshold, just long enough to take it in. Lupin glanced up, gave a small nod.

Past Magical Theory, where Bellatrix was standing on a chair, shouting incantations at misbehaving desks.

"They cheat!" she declared loudly. "If they cheat, they deserve to be bitten!"

One of the desks snapped.

Harry grinned and waved. Bellatrix winked back at him.

"I've taught them well," she said.

"Terrifyingly well," Lyra muttered.

At the turn leading to the Charms corridor, Harry stopped abruptly.

"What?" Lyra asked.

Harry crouched down, pulling open an old cupboard tucked behind a forgotten tapestry.

Dust clouded the air. He coughed once, waved it away, and reached inside.

There, under a stack of faded parchment and a Slytherin scarf covered in cobwebs, was a tiny glass vial.

Liquid gold.

He held it up with a grin. "Felix."

Lyra raised one elegant brow. "You didn't finish it?"

"I like to save things," Harry said. "Also I forgot it existed."

He pocketed it carefully, like it was still worth something more than luck.

"Going to use it tomorrow?" Draco asked.

Harry shook his head. "We don't need luck anymore."

They walked on, shadows trailing behind them, the silence around them warm and full.