CHAPTER SEVEN

Kit trudged through the castle corridors, her mind racing with a mixture of regret and disbelief. "Why, for even a second, did I think Lorcan would come up with a plan that made sense?" she muttered to herself, her voice tinged with frustration. Yet here she was, reluctantly roped into the scheme. Somehow, Lorcan had managed to convince her, though she couldn't quite pinpoint how or why.

"It's a good plan," a familiar voice murmured, cutting through her thoughts.

Kit stiffened at the sound, her grip tightening on the strap of her bag. It wasn't real—she knew it wasn't. But the voice, eerily calm and familiar, made her stomach churn.

"Ms. Ollivander."

Kit jumped, startled as Professor Longbottom's voice cut through the fog in her mind. She snapped her gaze upward to find him staring at her, his eyebrows raised in mild concern. A ripple of laughter spread through the classroom, and Kit's face burned with embarrassment. She had zoned out again, letting her thoughts drag her away.

"Sorry, Professor," she mumbled, hastily straightening in her seat and lowering her head to hide her blush.

Professor Longbottom cleared his throat, silencing the chuckles around her. The Hufflepuff sitting beside her—a boy she vaguely knew—leaned over and pointed to the section in their Herbology book they were supposed to be studying. Kit gave a quick nod of thanks, grateful for the distraction.

As the lesson resumed, Kit forced herself to focus. She couldn't let her mind wander again, not when it only led to confusion and disorientation. But even as she buried herself in her textbook, Lorcan's ridiculous plan loomed in the back of her mind, refusing to be ignored.

The plan was simple on paper, but in execution, it felt like walking a tightrope. Distract Lysander by appealing to his secret interest—wand-making—and ease him into realizing he didn't have to follow the career path their parents expected. It sounded reasonable when Lorcan explained it, but Kit couldn't shake the feeling that Lysander would see through it immediately.

"He's a Ravenclaw," she had argued with Lorcan earlier. "You think he won't notice me acting out of character?"

"Lysander's clever, sure," Lorcan admitted, "but he's not invincible. And you have the upper hand here, Kit. He's been curious about wand-making for years—ever since we were kids. He used to grill your brother about it every time he stayed over. I'm telling you, this will work."

"And if it doesn't?" she had countered, sceptical.

"Then it doesn't," Lorcan said with a shrug. "But at least we'll know we tried. Look, my brother's been running from what he really wants for ages. This is a chance to show him there's another way. You can help him see that."

Now, standing outside the courtyard where Lysander was chatting with his friends, Kit felt a knot of anxiety twist in her stomach. She scanned the group, her eyes locking on Lysander's familiar blond hair as he laughed at something one of his mates said. She took a deep breath, bracing herself.

Approaching him in a group was strategic; Lysander's guard would be up if they were alone, and he'd notice her hesitation immediately. Among his friends, she had a better chance of keeping things casual.

"Scamander," Kit called, stepping into the courtyard.

Lysander turned at the sound of her voice, a playful grin spreading across his face. "I swear, I didn't do anything," he said, raising his hands in mock innocence.

The others chuckled, though none joined in fully. Kit knew why—they were uncertain around her, unsure of what was acceptable to joke about given her circumstances. It didn't help that Lysander was fiercely protective of her, often silencing anyone who dared to overstep.

Ignoring his teasing tone, Kit crossed her arms and said, "I need your opinion on something. Think you can help?"

Lysander's playful grin softened into a genuine smile. "Of course, Kit. What's up?"

Without another word, she turned and started walking, trusting him to follow. As they left the courtyard, Lysander fell into step beside her, his grin returning. "Praise me—I didn't call you Kitty."

Kit rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a faint smile. "Small victories, I suppose."

As they walked, she began asking questions from the list Lorcan had given her, carefully weaving them into casual conversation. Lysander answered readily, his enthusiasm for the topic shining through. Kit couldn't help but notice the way his eyes lit up when he talked about wand-making, a stark contrast to his usual nonchalant demeanour.

She wondered if Lorcan was right—if this seemingly simple act could truly plant the seed Lysander needed to break free from the expectations that weighed on him. For years, he had been living in the shadow of their parents' legacy, a path that seemed so predetermined it left no room for deviation. Kit knew that feeling all too well. The weight of others' assumptions, the pressure to live up to an ideal that wasn't truly yours—it was suffocating.

As she listened to Lysander talk,  just like Lorcan said—his passion for wand-making was evident in every word. She began to see a side of him that he rarely revealed. His usual bravado and charm were stripped away, replaced with genuine enthusiasm and curiosity. It was in the way his hands gestured excitedly when he explained a theory about wand cores, or how his voice took on a slightly higher pitch when he recalled something he'd read in a book.

She could see why Lorcan wanted this for his brother. It wasn't just about steering Lysander away from his reckless habit of chasing fleeting attention from others. It was about giving him the freedom to pursue something that truly mattered to him, something that ignited a spark in his soul.

Still, doubts lingered in Kit's mind. Could something as simple as a conversation really make a difference? She wasn't sure. But for the first time since Lorcan had roped her into his plan, she found herself wanting it to work.

"See, the thing with wand-making," Lysander said, pulling her out of her thoughts, "is that it's not just about crafting something functional. It's about understanding the connection between the wand and the wizard. It's... well, it's almost alive in a way, isn't it?"

Kit nodded, though she wasn't entirely sure if she agreed. "It's definitely more complex than most people realize," she said, keeping her tone neutral.

Lysander glanced at her, a small smile playing on his lips. "You're humouring me, aren't you?"

"Not at all," Kit replied quickly, though her slightly flushed cheeks gave her away.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You don't have to pretend, you know. I get it—it's not exactly a riveting topic for most people."

"Actually," she said, surprising herself, "I think it's fascinating. You're right—it's not just about the wand. It's about the connection, the relationship between magic and the person wielding it. I never really thought about it that way before."

Lysander's smile widened, and for a moment, Kit felt a strange sense of accomplishment. Maybe this plan wasn't just about helping him—it was helping her too.

As they rounded a corner and approached the Hufflepuff common room, Lysander glanced at her, his expression softer now. "Thanks for talking to me about this," he said. "I don't really get to talk about it much... you know, with people who actually listen."

Kit paused, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. "You should talk about it more," she said. "You're good at this. You're passionate about it. People would listen if you gave them the chance."

Lysander tilted his head, studying her for a moment. "Maybe," he said, his voice quiet. "But it's easier to just... keep it to myself."

Kit understood that more than she cared to admit. "Sometimes the hardest things are the most worth doing," she said, echoing the sentiment Lorcan had shared with her earlier.

Lysander raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile returning to his face. "You sound like Lorcan."

Kit rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "Maybe he's rubbing off on me," she said lightly.

As they stepped into the Hufflepuff common room, Kit felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps this plan wasn't as ridiculous as she'd thought. Perhaps, in helping Lysander find his way, she could begin to rediscover her own.