The morning of September 1st arrived with perfect clarity, sunlight streaming through the tall windows of Ambrosia Manor as Chris completed his final preparations for returning to Hogwarts. His trunk sat packed and ready by the entrance hall fireplace, its silver clasps gleaming in the morning light, each compartment meticulously organised with books, clothing, and magical tools for the year ahead. He moved through the manor with quiet purpose, mentally checking off the final items on his preparation list while savouring these last moments of private solitude before re-joining the social world of Hogwarts.
"Master's breakfast is prepared," Jilly announced, appearing with a soft pop beside the grand staircase. She wore a freshly pressed uniform, the Ambrosia crest on her chest polished to a shine that matched the pride in her amber eyes.
"Thank you, Jilly." Chris followed her to the dining room, where sunlight painted the breakfast table in warm gold. A light meal of poached eggs, toast, and fresh fruit awaited him, alongside a pot of fragrant tea. "Everything is prepared for my absence this term?"
"Yes, Master." Jilly bowed slightly. "The manor will be maintained in perfect order. Bouncy has secured all your laboratories and private workrooms as instructed."
As if summoned by his name, Bouncy appeared with a crack that echoed through the high ceiling, his large ears flapping with excitement. "Master Chrissy is leaving today! Bouncy has double-triple-checked everything! All super-duper secure!"
Chris couldn't help but smile at the enthusiastic elf. "Thank you, Bouncy. I know the manor is in excellent hands."
He finished his breakfast quickly, then returned to the entrance hall where his trunk awaited. Jilly and Bouncy stood ready, their expressions a mixture of pride and wistful sadness at his departure.
"I'll write regularly," Chris promised, knowing the house-elves would miss him despite their dedication to maintaining the manor. "And I may call for you occasionally if I need assistance at school."
"Bouncy will come extra-super-fast if Master Chrissy calls!" the energetic elf declared, bouncing on his toes.
"The Floo connection is prepared, Master," Jilly said, gesturing to the fireplace where emerald flames already licked the ornate grate.
Chris nodded, appreciating once again the privileges wizarding households afford him. While most students endured the chaos of Kings Cross Station, the Ambrosia household maintained a private Floo connection directly to an exclusive section of Platform 9¾, a legacy arrangement dating back generations.
"Until Christmas, then," Chris said, shrinking his trunk with a wandless charm and tucking it into his pocket. With a final nod to his faithful servants, he stepped into the green flames and stated clearly, "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."
The world dissolved into spinning emerald light before resolving into a small, elegant waiting room panelled in dark wood. A discreet door bore the simple label "Platform Access," and beyond it, Chris could hear the distant sounds of students and families. He straightened his casual robes, activated his glamour bracelet with a tap, and stepped through the door onto a less crowded section of the platform.
The scarlet Hogwarts Express gleamed in front of him, steam billowing around its massive form. From his vantage point, Chris observed the platform's familiar chaos. Parents hugged children goodbye, younger siblings whined about being left behind, and students shouted greetings across the crowd. He spotted the distinct red hair of the Weasley family, minus their youngest son, and noted Neville Longbottom being fussed over by his formidable grandmother, who wore a stuffed vulture hat that bobbed precariously as she spoke.
Chris boarded the train through a door near the Floo entrance, finding the corridor relatively empty as most students were still saying their goodbyes. He selected a compartment toward the middle of the train, settled himself by the window, and pulled out a small leather-bound book on intermediate warding techniques to pass the time until his friends arrived.
The train had begun to fill, corridors echoing with excited voices and the thump of dragged trunks, when the compartment door slid open. Susan stood framed in the doorway, her red-blonde hair pulled back into a practical ponytail, her summer tan still evident on her face.
"There you are!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up. Behind her, Hannah appeared, her blonde plait now adorned with a yellow ribbon that matched her sundress.
Chris set aside his book, rising to help them with their trunks. "Right on time," he observed, storing their luggage in the overhead rack.
Hannah collapsed dramatically onto the seat beside him. "Barely! Dad insisted on checking my trunk three times to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything."
"Aunt Amelia was the opposite," Susan said, settling across from them. "She had me packed two days ago and gave me a lecture about 'efficient time management' this morning."
The compartment filled with their laughter, the easy camaraderie they'd built during their first year slipping back into place as though summer had been merely a brief interruption. Outside, the platform grew more frantic as the departure time approached. Parents made last-minute attempts to impart forgotten advice, students leaned from windows for final kisses, and owls hooted indignantly from their cages.
"Did you finish McGonagall's transfiguration essay?" Hannah asked, pulling a bag of liquorice wands from her purse and offering them around. "I rewrote mine twice before Dad said I was obsessing."
"Only once," Susan admitted, accepting a liquorice wand with a grateful smile. "Though Aunt Amelia insisted on proofreading it."
Chris nodded, remembering the essay he'd written with deliberate care to demonstrate advanced understanding without revealing too much of his true knowledge. "I found some interesting tangential material in the manor library. The principles of cross-species transfiguration was fascinating."
The train whistle sounded, cutting through their conversation as the Hogwarts Express gave a lurch and began to move. Platform 9¾ slid past their window, parents waving until they disappeared from view as the train rounded a bend.
Their conversation flowed easily from summer activities to speculations about the year ahead. Susan described visiting her aunt's office at the Ministry, while Hannah detailed her father's latest herbology experiments. Chris shared carefully edited stories about exploring family properties in Europe, weaving truth and fiction into a plausible narrative.
"I still can't believe Lockhart is going to be teaching us," Hannah said with a groan, reaching for another liquorice wand. "His books are ridiculous. Did you read the part in Voyages with Vampires where he claims to have defeated a vampire with a charm that wouldn't affect undead creatures?"
"Aunt Amelia was furious when we told her about him," Susan confided, leaning forward conspiratorially. "She wouldn't say much, but I got the impression she's found a lot from looking into his background."
Chris suppressed a satisfied smile, merely nodding thoughtfully. "Perhaps we'll continue our study group from last year. We managed with Quirrell; we can manage with Lockhart."
Their conversation was interrupted by the compartment door sliding open with sudden force. Hermione Granger stood in the doorway, her bushy hair even wilder than usual, her brown eyes wide with concern. She wore jeans and a striped jumper, clutching a book to her chest like a shield.
"Sorry to interrupt," she said breathlessly, "but have any of you seen Harry or Ron? I've looked up and down the train twice, and they're nowhere to be found. The train left ten minutes ago, and I'm getting worried."
The three Hufflepuffs exchanged glances, shaking their heads. Chris remembered what was supposed to happen according to the original timeline, Harry and Ron stealing Mr. Weasley's enchanted car after missing the train.
"When did you last see them?" Susan asked, concern evident in her voice.
"At King's Cross," Hermione answered, shifting anxiously from foot to foot. "The Weasleys were right behind me, but when I found a compartment and went back to look for them, they were gone. I thought maybe they were sitting with other Gryffindors, but nobody's seen them."
Chris turned casually to look out the window, scanning the sky beyond the passing landscape. A flicker of movement caught his attention, something small and turquoise against the blue sky, moving parallel to the train. He fought back a laugh as he recognised the outline of a flying car.
"I've found them," he announced calmly, turning back to the worried girls.
"What? Where?" Hermione demanded, hurrying to the window.
Chris pointed toward the distant flying object. "Unless I'm mistaken, that's a flying Ford Anglia keeping perfect pace with the Hogwarts Express."
Susan and Hannah scrambled to the window, pressing their faces against the glass to get a better look. Hermione squeezed between them, her expression shifting from confusion to horrified recognition.
"Oh my God," she gasped. "That's Mr. Weasley's car! They've stolen it! They're flying it to Hogwarts!"
Susan burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. "Those idiots! What were they thinking?"
"They clearly weren't," Hannah added, giggling. "Imagine the look on Professor McGonagall's face when they land that thing on the school lawn!"
Chris watched their reactions with amusement, particularly enjoying the contrast between Susan and Hannah's delighted disbelief and Hermione's mounting horror.
"This isn't funny!" Hermione insisted, pacing the small compartment. "They could be seen by Muggles! They could crash! They'll be expelled for sure! Do you know how many regulations they're breaking right now?"
"At least seven," Chris offered helpfully, which only intensified Hermione's distress.
"And all the points Gryffindor will lose," she continued, wringing her hands. "We'll be in negative numbers before classes even start!"
The journey continued with Hermione alternating between watching anxiously out the window and pacing the compartment, listing potential catastrophes in increasingly frantic tones. Susan and Hannah eventually convinced her to sit down and accept a chocolate frog, though she barely noticed what she was eating, her eyes repeatedly darting to the window where the flying car had long since disappeared from view.
As evening fell and the train began to slow, pulling into Hogsmeade Station under a canopy of stars, Hermione finally excused herself to change into her robes, still muttering about "irresponsible behaviour" and "the International Statute of Secrecy."
"Well," Susan said as they gathered their belongings, "the year's starting with excitement, at least."
Chris smiled, knowing that Harry and Ron's dramatic arrival was just the beginning of what promised to be another great year at Hogwarts.
The platform at Hogsmeade Station hummed with activity as students disembarked from the Hogwarts Express, the evening air crisp with the promise of autumn. Hagrid's booming voice carried over the crowd, calling first-years to the traditional boat journey across the lake, while returning students streamed toward a line of waiting carriages at the station's edge. Chris followed the flow of older students with Susan and Hannah beside him, their breath visible in small clouds as they chatted about the upcoming feast, unaware of what awaited him at the carriage stand.
"I hope they have treacle tart tonight," Hannah said, pulling her robes tighter against the evening chill. "Dad tried to make it over summer, but it was like eating sweetened cement."
Susan laughed, nudging her friend playfully. "Better than Aunt Amelia's cooking. She believes food should be 'functional, not frivolous.' Two weeks of boiled chicken and steamed vegetables nearly killed me."
Chris nodded absently, his attention drawn to the line of carriages ahead. Last year, as first-years, they had crossed the lake in boats, experiencing the traditional first glimpse of Hogwarts across the water. This year, they would take the carriages like the older students, a small marker of their progression through their educational journey.
He froze mid-step, his casual stride halting so abruptly that Susan walked directly into his back with a soft "oof."
"Chris? What's wrong?" she asked, steadying herself with a hand on his shoulder.
But he didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the creatures harnessed to the nearest carriage. Skeletal black horses stood between the carriage shafts, their dragon-like heads held proudly despite their emaciated appearance. Leathery wings folded against their sides rippled with sinew beneath skin that seemed stretched too thin over bone. Their pupil-less white eyes stared unseeing into the gathering darkness, patient and eternal.
Thestrals.
Of course. Chris had known of their existence intellectually, the books in his family library contained detailed descriptions of the death-associated creatures that pulled the Hogwarts carriages. But knowing and seeing were entirely different experiences. The sight of them triggered something deep within him, a memory he kept carefully contained.
The physical world around him faded momentarily as the past rose unbidden in his mind. A different life, a different time. His children, so small, so precious, lying still in their coffins, their faces pale and waxy. The feeling of their cold hands in his. The crushing weight of failure, of being unable to protect what mattered most despite all his love and care. The decision that followed, the whiskey, the deliberate, final sleep he'd chosen rather than live in a world without them.
His hands were numb, but he felt a warmth in his chest, an uncomfortable heat that he recognised as grief rising to the surface after months of careful containment. Chris took a deep breath, forcing the memory back into its compartment. This was neither the time nor the place to revisit that particular darkness. He had been given a second chance for a reason, and dwelling on past tragedies would only distract from the life still to be had.
"Chris?" Hannah's voice penetrated his thoughts, concern evident in her tone. Both girls were staring at him, Susan's hand still resting on his shoulder, her touch bringing him fully back to the present moment.
"Sorry," he said, composing his features into a neutral expression. "I was surprised by the horses."
"Horses?" Susan's brow furrowed as she looked toward the carriage. "What horses?"
Hannah followed his gaze, her expression equally perplexed as she studied the empty space between the carriage shafts. "There's nothing there, Chris. The carriages move by themselves, everyone knows that."
Chris simply pointed toward the nearest Thestral, its skeletal form stark against the twilight sky. "The horses pulling the carriage. Right there."
Susan and Hannah exchanged worried glances, their eyes moving between Chris and the apparently empty space he indicated.
"There's nothing there," Susan repeated gently, as though afraid he might be hallucinating.
Chris considered explaining about Thestrals, about how only those who had witnessed and processed death could see them. But that would lead to questions about whose death he had seen, questions that would require lies far more complex than he cared to construct in this moment.
"Must be something only some people can see," he said instead, forcing a casual shrug. "Let's grab that carriage before someone else does."
He moved forward again, pretending not to notice when Susan and Hannah exchanged another concerned look behind his back. Their confusion was understandable; from their perspective, he had stopped to stare at empty air and then claimed to see horses that weren't there. It was the kind of behaviour that might warrant worry in a friend.
The Thestral turned its head slightly as Chris approached, its milky eye seeming to look through him rather than at him. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch its leathery flank, aware that such an action would only appear stranger to his friends who couldn't see the creature.
"After you," he said, gesturing for the girls to climb into the carriage first. They did so with lingering looks of concern, whispering to each other as they settled onto the cushioned bench.
Chris followed, closing the carriage door behind him. As he sat opposite his friends, the Thestrals began to move without command, pulling the carriage forward along the winding path toward Hogwarts. The castle appeared in the distance, its windows glowing with warm light against the darkening sky, a sight that would normally fill him with anticipation for the year ahead.
But for now, his mind remained on the creatures guiding their journey, visible reminders of loss and mortality, connecting his past life to his present purpose in ways he hadn't anticipated. The carriage rocked gently as it climbed the path, carrying them toward the light of Hogwarts and all that awaited in the year ahead.
The Great Hall welcomed them with its familiar grandeur, four long house tables stretching beneath a ceiling bewitched to reflect the night sky outside, stars glimmering between drifting clouds as though the roof had simply vanished. Hundreds of floating candles cast their gentle light over the assembled students, their flames unwavering despite the ambient magic that suffused the air. Chris followed Susan and Hannah to the Hufflepuff table, nodding to familiar faces as they found seats among their housemates, the excited chatter of reunions filling the cavernous space with a pleasant hum.
"Look, the Sorting Hat's already on its stool," Hannah observed, gesturing toward the front of the hall where Professor McGonagall was arranging the ancient, patched wizard's hat on a small wooden stool. Behind her, a line of diminutive first-years waited nervously, their expressions ranging from terrified to awestruck as they took in the enchanted ceiling and the sea of older students watching them.
"Were we ever that small?" Susan whispered, studying the new students with a fond smile. "That little boy in front looks like a strong wind might blow him away."
Chris surveyed the staff table, noting the familiar faces of his professors. Dumbledore sat at the center, resplendent in midnight blue robes embroidered with silver stars, his beard gleaming in the candlelight. To his right sat an empty chair, presumably for McGonagall, and beyond that, the unmistakable figure of Gilderoy Lockhart, whose forget-me-not blue robes seemed deliberately chosen to make him stand out among his colleagues.
"Lockhart looks like he's posing for an invisible photographer," Chris murmured, noting how the man kept adjusting his position to display his best angles to the student body.
Before either girl could respond, the hall fell silent as the Sorting Hat twitched and a rip near its brim opened wide. Its annual song filled the hall, detailing the qualities of each house and the importance of unity despite differences. When it finished, the assembled students applauded politely, and Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a long scroll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she instructed the first-years. "Abbott, Eleanor!"
Hannah straightened slightly at the familiar surname. "My cousin," she explained quietly as a small girl with blonde pigtails similar to Hannah's own approached the stool. The hat barely touched her head before declaring "HUFFLEPUFF!" and their table erupted in welcoming applause.
The sorting continued methodically through the alphabet. A tiny boy with mouse-brown hair became a Ravenclaw, twins with identical freckles were separated into Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, and a girl with glasses too large for her face joined them at Hufflepuff. Chris applauded each new Hufflepuff politely, remembering his own sorting a year ago and how easily the hat had placed him despite his complicated history.
As "Zimmerfield, Marcus" became the final Slytherin, McGonagall rolled up her scroll and removed the Sorting Hat. Dumbledore rose from his golden chair, spreading his arms wide in welcome, his eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles.
"Welcome!" he called, his voice carrying effortlessly to every corner of the hall. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Now, before you all become too befuddled by our excellent feast, I have a few start-of-term notices to give you."
He proceeded through the standard announcements about the Forbidden Forest being forbidden, with a pointed look toward the Gryffindor table, where Fred and George Weasley grinned innocently, and Mr. Filch's expanded list of prohibited items.
"Finally," Dumbledore said, his tone brightening, "I am delighted to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, who has graciously agreed to join our staff after his many adventures in the field."
Lockhart rose dramatically from his seat, his golden curls catching the light as he executed a theatrical bow. His teeth flashed in a dazzling smile that prompted sighs from several female students across all four houses. He raised one hand in an elegant wave that wouldn't have been out of place on a royal balcony.
"Thank you, Headmaster!" Lockhart's voice carried with practised projection. "I am indeed delighted to impart my considerable expertise to the next generation of witches and wizards. Rest assured, you'll find my classes as exciting as my bestselling books, though perhaps with fewer banshees!"
He followed this with a wink that caused a fourth-year Ravenclaw girl to nearly swoon into her empty plate. Across the hall, Hermione Granger sat rapt with attention, her bushy hair immediately identifiable among the Gryffindors.
Chris exchanged glances with Susan and Hannah, all three rolling their eyes in perfect synchronisation. Susan mimed gagging into her goblet, while Hannah suppressed a giggle behind her hand.
"Five galleons says his first lesson is about himself," Susan whispered.
"That's not a bet anyone would take," Chris replied dryly. "The real question is whether we'll learn anything beyond his favourite hair care potions."
Dumbledore reclaimed the floor with a gracious nod to Lockhart, who reluctantly returned to his seat. "Thank you, Professor. And now, I believe we have kept our stomachs waiting long enough. Let the feast begin!"
The golden plates before them suddenly filled with food: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon, steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, and mint humbugs. The delicious aromas mingled in the air, prompting a collective sigh of appreciation from the hungry students.
As they filled their plates, Chris noticed Susan glancing toward the Gryffindor table, her brow furrowed slightly.
"Harry and Ron still aren't here," she observed, nodding toward the empty spaces beside Hermione, who kept looking anxiously toward the entrance doors.
"They're probably with Professor McGonagall," Chris said, reaching for the roast potatoes. "If they did land that flying car on school grounds, they'll be explaining themselves to her right about now."
Hannah winced sympathetically. "Poor things. Can you imagine facing McGonagall after something like that? I'd rather wrestle the giant squid."
"They'll survive," Chris said, hiding his amusement behind a goblet of pumpkin juice. He could imagine the scene playing out in McGonagall's office, her fury at their recklessness barely contained, Snape's opportunistic attempt to have them expelled, and Dumbledore's inevitable decision to keep them at school despite the spectacular breach of the Statute of Secrecy. Some things, it seemed, would remain constant across timelines.
The feast progressed pleasantly, first courses giving way to desserts: blocks of ice cream in every flavour imaginable, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs, jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding. Hannah made good on her hope for treacle tart, helping herself to a generous portion while Susan sampled every flavour of ice cream within reach.
Conversation flowed around them, speculation about classes, summer adventures, and of course, the mysterious absence of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. By the time the desserts too had disappeared and Dumbledore dismissed them to their dormitories, a pleasant fullness had settled over the Great Hall, students rising languidly from benches with the satisfied lethargy that comes from excellent food and good company.
"Ready to head back?" Susan asked, stifling a yawn behind her hand.
Chris nodded, rising from the bench. As they joined the stream of students filing toward the exits, he cast one final glance toward the staff table. Dumbledore was deep in conversation with Professor Flitwick, but for a brief moment, the Headmaster's blue eyes flicked toward him. Chris maintained a neutral expression as he turned away, following his friends out of the Great Hall and toward the comforts of the Hufflepuff common room.
The corridors of Hogwarts echoed with the shuffling footsteps of well-fed students as they dispersed from the Great Hall, prefects calling for first-years to follow closely lest they be lost in the labyrinthine passages on their very first night. Chris walked beside Susan and Hannah, their path leading downward toward the basement level where the Hufflepuff common room lay hidden near the kitchens. The familiar route felt like returning home after a long journey, each turn and staircase bringing them closer to the comfort and warmth that defined their house.
"First-years, keep up!" called a fifth-year prefect with a round, friendly face and a voice that carried authority without harshness. "The entrance is just ahead, and you'll want to pay attention to the rhythm."
"I swear the walk gets longer every year," Hannah sighed, rubbing her full stomach dramatically. "Or maybe it's just harder to move after all that treacle tart."
"Worth it, though," Susan replied with a contented smile. "Nothing compares to Hogwarts feasts."
They arrived at a nook to the right of the kitchen corridor, where stacks of large barrels were built into the stone wall. The prefect turned to address the assembled students, particularly the wide-eyed first-years at the front.
"Pay attention now," he instructed. "To enter our common room, you must tap the barrel two from the bottom, middle of the second row, in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff.' Like this." He demonstrated the pattern, tapping five times in a specific cadence. "Get it wrong, and you'll be doused in vinegar. The entrance knows when you're not a Hufflepuff."
The lid of the barrel swung open at his touch, revealing a sloping, earthy passage beyond. The students filed through one by one, the tunnel widening as they crawled a short distance before emerging into the Hufflepuff common room.
Chris felt the tension in his shoulders release as the warm, golden glow of the common room enveloped him. The circular space remained exactly as he remembered: low ceilings draped with hanging plants, round windows just above ground level showing glimpses of dandelions and rippling grass even at night, overstuffed yellow and black armchairs and sofas arranged in friendly clusters around the room. Copper lamps cast a honeyed light over everything, and the crackling fire in the large, round hearth filled the space with both warmth and the subtle scent of apple wood.
A portrait of Helga Hufflepuff above the fireplace raised her golden cup in greeting to the returning students, her painted eyes twinkling with the same kindness and welcome that permeated the entire space.
"Home sweet home," Hannah sighed, collapsing into a particularly plush armchair near one of the round windows. A tendril from a nearby hanging plant reached down to gently pat her head, as though the flora itself was welcoming her back.
The common room quickly filled with chattering students. A group of fourth-years commandeered a corner table for an impromptu game of Exploding Snap, while several seventh-years settled into the sofas nearest the fire, their faces already showing the mixed anticipation and dread of their final year. The new first-years stood in a nervous cluster, taking in their surroundings with wide eyes until a prefect began showing them to their dormitories.
A stout boy with soil perpetually embedded under his fingernails dropped into the chair beside Hannah, his face flushed with excitement. "Did you hear about Potter and Weasley? They flew a car to school! Crashed it right into the Whomping Willow!"
"We saw them from the train," Susan confirmed, perching on the arm of Hannah's chair. "Flying alongside us bold as brass. Are they expelled?"
The boy shook his head, dirt falling from his curly hair. "Apparently not. My cousin's friend overheard Professor Sprout telling Flitwick they got detention for weeks instead. Snape's furious, he wanted them gone."
"Of course he did," Hannah said, rolling her eyes. "Heaven forbid Gryffindor keep their star Seeker."
A prefect clapped her hands for attention, her honey-blonde hair pulled back in a sensible ponytail that swung as she addressed the room. "Everyone, welcome back! Just a few quick announcements before bed. The notice board has been updated with Quidditch try out information, we need a new Chaser and Beater this year. First-years, your class schedules will be distributed at breakfast tomorrow. And remember, Professor Sprout expects all Hufflepuffs to demonstrate exemplary behaviour, especially during the first week."
As the prefect continued with practical information about bathroom schedules and common room rules, Chris allowed his attention to drift, his gaze moving around the familiar space. After the grandeur of Ambrosia Manor, there was something refreshingly unpretentious about the Hufflepuff common room. No ancient artifacts or imposing portraits of stern ancestors, just comfortable furniture, thriving plants, and an atmosphere that encouraged belonging.
When the announcements concluded, students began drifting toward their respective dormitories, the excitement of the day giving way to travel-weary yawns and heavy eyelids.
"I'm about to fall asleep standing up," Susan admitted, covering a yawn with her hand. "See you both at breakfast?"
Hannah nodded, already halfway through another yawn herself. "Bright and early."
"Goodnight, then," Chris said, offering them both a warm smile. "It's good to be back."
The girls headed toward the round door on the right that led to the female dormitories, while Chris made his way to the left, following the tunnel that sloped gently downward to the second-year boys' quarters.
Chris changed into his own sleepwear and completed his nightly rituals, his mind already organising tomorrow's priorities. As he finally slipped between the cool sheets of his four-poster, pulling the patchwork quilt up to his chest, he allowed himself a moment of simple contentment. The sound of the distant rustle of plants from the common room created a soothing backdrop as he closed his eyes.