Later that day, Lando entered the Transfiguration classroom and sat down at his desk, his knee bouncing as he waited for Professor Alonso to arrive. His face was set in determination, but there was a hint of anxiety cracking through.

A few moments later, Alonso entered, robes swirling behind him, eyebrows raised as seeing Lando already there. "You're here early, Mr Norris. Something on your mind?"

Lando hesitated, fiddling with his wand before blurting out, "It's Carlos, He's- he's not okay, is he? He won't tell me what's wrong, but you know, don't you?"

Alonso's expression grew guarded as he carefully asked "Why do you think something's wrong?"

"I feel like he's pushing me away," he admitted, "Like... there's something huge and I can't help him because he won't let me. I'm scared, Professor, I'm scared for him."

The Professor looked at Lando with guilt and sympathy, carefully choosing his words. "There are some things that aren't mine to tell. But I promise you this- Carlos is fighting a battle you can't see. And it's not because he doesn't trust you. It's because he's trying to protect you."

"Protect me? From what? From him? That's ridiculous!"

Alonso gave him a long look, "Sometimes the best way to help someone isn't by demanding answers- it's by being there when they're ready to give them."

The air smelled faintly of parchment and chalk dust, but also of magic- a sharp, electric hum that lingered after every spell. Professor Alonso stood at the front of the room, his wand tracing patterns mid-air as he explained the day's task: turning a series of glass bottles into intricately shaped birds- crystal clear, delicate, and deceptively difficult.

"Transfiguration requires precision, focus, and above all, patience. These birds must not only take shape but maintain their structure without cracking or shattering. Pair up and begin." The room is bustling with students as Professor Alonso assigned partners for a practical task. When he paired Lando and Carlos together, the tension between them was immediate- tangible enough that even some of the nearby students stole glances before turning back to their own work. Carlos still looked pale, exhausted, and there was a stiffness to the way he moved, Lando noticed. He frequently winced in what he thought was pain as he adjusted his position at their shared table. He wanted to say something but was holding back out of stubbornness and lingering anger from their last argument.

Lando tapped his wand against the glass bottle, watching as the surface rippled faintly but did not transform. He let out a frustrated sigh, glancing sideways at Carlos, who was hunched over his bottle, his wand trembling slightly in his grip. Lando looked over confused, Carlos knew how to do these spells, he had done since third year. He must still be feeling off from the other day.

"You alright with this? You don't have to push yourself if-"

"There's nothing wrong with me." The sharpness in his voice made Lando recoil slightly, but he didn't retort. Instead, he focused back on his own bottle, jaw clenched.

Time dragged on. Carlos managed to get his bottle halfway into the shape of a sparrow before his wand slipped in his grip. His knuckles were white, faint beads of sweat dotted his forehead. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Suddenly, Lando heard him hiss sharply as his wand slipped again, his hand knocking against the edge of the desk. The jolt of movement made his sleeve pull back just slightly, exposing a glimpse of an angry, jagged scratch running along his forearm- red and raw, as if it had barely begun to heal.

Lando's gaze caught on it immediately. "Mate what- what is that? What happened to your arm?" He urgently asked, voice low.

He froze, his wand hovering mid-air over the half-formed glass sparrow. For a moment, neither of them moved. The quiet hum of conversation and distant clinking of glass surrounded them, but it felt like they were locked in a bubble where only the two of them existed.

"It's nothing." But Lando wasn't letting it go this time. His hand reached out instinctively, hovering near Carlos' wrist but not touching.

"That's not nothing, Chili. You're shaking, you're pale, and now- this? Please... talk to me."

Carlos yanked his sleeve back down, cradling his arm close to his chest as if trying to shield it from view. "I said it's nothing. Leave it alone, Lando." It looked as though Lando would press further. His mouth opened as if to argue, but the look in Carlos' eyes stopped him- an exhausted, haunted look that spoke of too many sleepless nights and too much pain carried alone.

They sat in silence for the rest of the lesson. Carlos' bird remained unfinished, its crystalline form still caught between glass and feathers. Lando's own attempt sat beside it- a perfect sparrow, fragile and glinting in the sunlight.

When Alonso dismissed the class, Carlos was the first to leave. His footsteps were quick, shoulders hunched as he disappeared through the door without a backward glance.

Lando lingered behind, his gaze fixed on the empty desk where Carlos had been sitting moments ago. His stomach twisted with worry, frustration, and an aching sense of helplessness.

Professor Alonso was at the front of the room, methodically vanishing the remaining glass birds with a flick of his wand. He glanced up and caught Lando's troubled expression.

"Sir... something's wrong with him. He- he's hurt. He wouldn't tell me- I think... I think he needs to go to the hospital wing."

Alonso froze mid-motion, the bird in his hand vanishing into a faint shimmer of light. His shoulders tensed, and for a fleeting moment, a deep sadness clouded his usually composed expression. "Oh, Carlitos..." he whispered, just audible enough for Lando to hear. He shifted uncomfortably, his hands clenching at his sides.

"Please, Professor. I know he won't go himself. But someone needs to make sure he's okay."

His gaze met Lando's, and the weight of the unspoken words hung heavy between them. He nodded slowly, his face set in a somber expression.

"I'll take care of you, you've done enough today. Go on now."

Fernando caught up with Carlos halfway down the corridor. The boy had been walking briskly, his head down, as if hoping to escape notice entirely. "Carlos. Stop." He froze, his breath hitching. Slowly, he turned, his face pale and his eyes wide with something that hovered between exhaustion and fear.

"Professor... I'm fine."

But Fernando's gaze was sharp and unyielding, cutting straight through the weak protest. "You're not fine. And I won't let you pretend otherwise."

Carlos' lips trembled, but he said nothing. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. "We're going to the hospital wing, Carlos."

The words hit him like a blow. His eyes went wide, his head shaking instinctively, desperation apparent in his cries "No- no, please. Don't make me go. Please, Nando. Por favor, paso mi vida allí, no quiero que me lo recuerden." (Please, I spend my life there, I don't want to be reminded of it.)

The raw fear in his voice was heartbreaking, but Fernando steeled himself. His hand rested lightly on Carlos' shoulder- not to force him forward, but as a steady, grounding presence. "This isn't up for discussion, Carlos. You need help. And I'm going to make sure you get it."

Back in the now empty classroom, Lando remained behind, staring blankly at his desk. The faint echoes of Carlos' protests seemed to linger in his mind, even though he couldn't hear them. He clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles white. "I'm sorry, Chili. I just... I didn't know what else to do." He turned away slowly, the weight of his decision pressing heavily on his shoulders as he left the classroom, the faint hum of magic and glass fading behind him.