The common room was unusually still, the soft crackle of the fire filling the silence. The usual bustle of students had dwindled, with most having retreated to their dormitories for the night. Carlos sat slouched in one of the armchairs, staring blankly into the flames, his thoughts heavy and chaotic.

Across from him, Lewis lounged on the sofa, flipping idly through a book. He'd been quiet for a while, which was unusual for him. But tonight, it seemed he was observing more than speaking.

"So," Lewis said finally, snapping the book shut and setting it aside. "Are you going to tell me what's been eating at you lately, or do I have to hex it out of you?"

Carlos glanced at him, his face guarded. "Not much to say."

"Right," Lewis said with a smirk. "Because you've always been the picture of stability."

Carlos rolled his eyes but didn't reply.

"You've been weird lately," Lewis continued, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Weirder than usual. And don't think I haven't noticed that you and Oscar are suddenly all buddy-buddy. When did that happen?"

Carlos tensed at the mention of Oscar but shrugged. "We just...talked. Sorted some things out."

"That's vague," Lewis said. "You two used to look like you wanted to hex each other every time you were in the same room. In fact, if I remember correctly, you did. And now, what? You're friends?"

"I wouldn't go that far," he muttered.

Lewis raised an eyebrow. "Then what would you call it?"

Carlos hesitated. "I don't know. He's trying. And...I guess I am too."

"Well, good for you," :ewis said, though his tone was laced with curiosity. "Still, it's not like you to let someone in that easily. What's changed?"

Carlos shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Maybe I just got tired of fighting."

"Or maybe you needed someone," Lewis said pointedly.

Carlos looked away, the firelight casting shadows across his face. Lewis leaned back, crossing his arms. "And what about Lando? You two have always been close, but lately, there's been this...weird tension. Did you have a fight or something?"

Carlos' jaw clenched, and he shook his head. "No, not exactly."

"Not exactly?" Lewis repeated. "That's not an answer, mate."

"It's complicated," Carlos said, his voice tight.

Lewis studied him for a moment, his expression softening. "You know, you're allowed to let people care about you. It doesn't make you weak or anything."

Carlos laughed bitterly. "You don't get it."

"I'm not trying to get it," Lewis said, his tone gentle but insistent. "I'm not Lando, and I'm not Oscar. You don't have to be cryptic with me. I'm here, alright?"

Carlos' shoulders slumped, the weight of his secrets pressing down on him. "It's not so simple," he said quietly.

Lewis sighed. "It never is with you, is it?" They sat in silence for a while, the fire's glow their only companion.

"You've always been like this," Lewis said eventually. "Even when we were kids. You'd bottle everything up, push everyone away, and then act like you didn't need anyone. It's exhausting just watching you, you know that?"

Carlos' lips twitched in a faint smile. "Guess I haven't changed much."

"No, you haven't," Lewis said. "But maybe it's time some things did. Because whatever's going on with you and Lando- even you and Oscar- you're going to drive yourself mad if you keep this up."

Carlos didn't respond, but his silence spoke volumes.

"Just think about it," Lewis said, standing and stretching. "And maybe try not to look so miserable. It's bad for your complexion."

Carlos snorted, and Lewis grinned. "Goodnight, mate," he said, heading toward the dormitory stairs.

"Buenos noches," Carlos murmured, his gaze returning to the fire as Lewis' footsteps faded.

He sat there long after Lewis had gone, the weight of his words lingering in the stillness of the room.

The Quidditch pitch was alive with energy, the air thrumming with cheers, chants, and the whoosh of broomsticks cutting through the crisp morning air. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff banners flapped wildly in the wind, their house colors vibrant against the grey sky.

Oscar sat in the stands with a group of Hufflepuffs, clapping along to their spirited chants but keeping a sharp eye on the game. His focus drifted to Carlos whenever he sped across the pitch, his movements sharp and precise as he defended the Gryffindor hoops.

"Come on, Gryffindor!" Someone loudly yelled from the other side of the stadium, echoing across as the Gryffindor Chasers executed a brilliant pass sequence.

"Not today!" Oscar muttered under his breath, grinning as a Hufflepuff Beater sent a bludger hurtling toward the Gryffindor lead Chaser.

The Chaser narrowly dodged, but the distraction allowed Hufflepuff to intercept the Quaffle. The crowd erupted, the noise a cacophony of cheers and groans.

"Come on, Gryffindor!" Lando shouted, leaning forward on the bench as one of the Gryffindor Chasers executed a flawless maneuver, narrowly avoiding a bludger.

Beside him, Charles crossed his arms, smirking. "It's almost like you've never sat here and watched a match."

Lando shot him a playful glare. "They're all different."

Lewis chuckled from Charles' other side. "Let's hope Carlos can pull through. He looks like he's about to jump off his broom and tackle someone."

High above the pitch, the Gryffindor Seeker hovered near the goalposts, scanning the sky with hawk-like intensity. Carlos' sharp voice echoed through the air.

"Back to formation! Don't let them take that angle!" His command brought the Chasers back into position, tightening their defense.

From his vantage point, Oscar noticed Carlos' gaze flickering upward, his sharp eyes catching something others hadn't yet seen: the golden glimmer of the Snitch.

The Hufflepuff Seeker had seen it too, glittering just out of reach. The Gryffindor Seeker was chasing it, their hand outstretched. The tension mounted as the Seeker began to dive, the tiny golden ball darting unpredictably through the air. The Hufflepuff Seeker was a beat too slow, their broom trailing behind as they struggled to catch up. The Gryffindor crowd roared, rising to their feet in anticipation. Oscar clenched his fists, his heart pounding.

But then, as if the match itself conspired against Gryffindor, a rogue bludger- knocked wildly off course by an overeager Beater- hurtled straight toward the Gryffindor Seeker.

The crowd gasped in unison, their cheers turning into cries of alarm.

Carlos' instincts kicked in before he had time to think. "Watch out!" He shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Without thinking, he dove, his broom slicing through the air, pushed to its limits, the wind stinging his face as he raced toward the Seeker. The rogue bludger seemed to move in slow motion, its trajectory aimed directly at the Seeker.

Carlos intercepted it just in time, his body absorbing the impact with a sickening thud. The force of it knocked him from his broom, sending him hurtling toward the ground.

In the stands, Lando shot to his feet, his face pale. "Carlos!"

Lewis grabbed his arm, his expression just as alarmed. "He's falling too fast- "

Charles, uncharacteristically serious, whispered, "Come on, Carlos. Don't you dare."

"Carlos!" Oscar's voice was among the loudest in the stands, his usually calm demeanor shattered as he gripped the edge of the railing.

At the last moment, Carlos managed to slow his descent, his grip on his broom unrelenting despite the pain. He hit the ground hard, rolling to absorb the impact before coming to a stop near the Gryffindor goalposts.

The Gryffindor Seeker, momentarily stunned by the commotion, snapped back into action. They lunged forward, their fingers closing around the Snitch.

The crowd erupted, but the celebration was subdued by the sight of Carlos lying motionless on the pitch as Madam Hooch's whistle cut through the air, calling for an immediate timeout.

From the stands, Oscar pushed his way through the crowd, his face set in grim determination.

"You absolute idiot," he muttered as he crouched beside him, his voice low but not unkind.

Carlos looked at him through half-lidded eyes, his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion. "Nice to see you care."

O shook his head, his expression torn between exasperation and relief. "You're impossible, you know that?"

Lando scrambled down the stand, Charles and Lewis close behind. When they reached the pitch, Oscar was already there, his expression grim as he hovered near Carlos.

Madam Pomfrey arrived, waving her wand to conjure a stretcher. "Enough, all of you! Give him space. He's coming with me to the hospital wing."

Lando knelt beside him, his voice soft but urgent. "Carlos, you scared us half to death."

He gave him a weak smile, though his eyes were clouded with pain. "Did we win?"

Lando let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah. You're a hero, you idiot."

As Carlos was levitated toward the castle under Madam Pomfrey's care, the crowd began to disperse, the reality of the win overshadowed by concern for their Keeper.

Oscar lingered on the pitch, his gaze following Carlos' retreating figure. He crossed his arms, letting out a long breath.

"Just try not to get yourself killed next time," he muttered to no one in particular before turning and heading back toward the stands.

In the hospital wing, He laid on one of the beds, his arm wrapped tightly in a sling. Madam Pomfrey bustled around him, muttering about reckless Quidditch players and the dangers of rogue bludgers.

Lando, Charles, Lewis, and Oscar sat nearby, their expressions ranging from concerned to exasperated.

"He'll be fine," Madam Pomfrey finally announced. "Just a bruised shoulder and a lot of soreness. No Quidditch for a week."

"Good," Lewis said, his tone dry. "Maybe he'll stop trying to kill himself on the pitch."

Charles added, "Seriously, Carlos. You've got to stop throwing yourself in harm's way. Professional quidditch player or not."

Carlos, propped up against the pillows, shrugged his good shoulder. "Wasn't going to let him take that hit."

As the others continued talking, Fernando appeared at the entrance, his calm demeanor masking a deeper concern. He exchanged a quiet nod with Madam Pomfrey before approaching the group.

"Carlitos," he spoke softly, his tone carrying an undercurrent of fondness. "Always the dramatic one, aren't you?"

Carlos smirked weakly. "Got to keep things interesting."

His gaze softened, but his voice turned firm. "Take this as a reminder that you're not invincible. And that there are people who care about you more than you realise."

Lando glanced at Alonso, the older man's words settling heavily in the room.

Later, when the others left to let Carlos rest, Lando lingered behind. He stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed, his hands in his pockets. For a moment, the only sound was the soft rustle of the hospital wing curtains and the faint murmurs of Madam Pomfrey in the distance.

Carlos glanced at him, his usual smirk absent. "You don't have to hover, you know. I'm not about to drop dead."

Lando's jaw tightened. He stepped closer, pulling up a chair beside the bed. "That's not funny."

Carlos blinked, surprised by the intensity in Lando's voice. "I was just-"

"You scared me." Lando cut him off, his voice trembling slightly. "I've seen you get hurt so many times- on the pitch, in duels, even in those ridiculous stunts you pull. But today... when you fell... I thought-"

He broke off, his hands gripping the edge of the chair.

Carlos stared at him, the usual sharpness in his eyes softening. "Lando..."

"I thought that was it," Lando continued, his voice thick. "I thought I'd lose you. And I couldn't-"

He stopped again, shaking his head as if trying to clear the thoughts. "You don't get it, do you? You act like you're invincible, like nothing can touch you. But you're not. And one day, if you keep doing this, I'm going to be right- there's going to be a fall, or a spell, or something, and you won't get back up."

Carlos swallowed hard, his usual bravado crumbling under Lando's raw emotion. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know," he said quietly, meeting his gaze. "But you did. And I need you to stop treating yourself like you don't matter."

Carlos looked away, his expression troubled. "It's not that I don't care about myself. I just... I didn't want him to get hurt. I couldn't just let it happen. I didn't want to let our House down."

Lando leaned back in the chair, running a hand through his hair. "You've got this hero complex, Carlos. You'd throw yourself in front of a dragon if it meant saving someone else. But have you ever thought about what it would do to the people who care about you if you got hurt?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and unspoken until now.

Carlos' voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Lando. I didn't think..."

"I know," Lando said softly, his voice steadier now. "But please, just... don't do that again. Not for anyone."

Carlos hesitated, then gave a small nod. "I'll try."

It wasn't a promise, but it was something.

Lando sat back, letting out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "You're an idiot, you know that? Estúpido"

Carlos' lips twitched into a faint smile. "Yeah. But you're still here."

"Of course, I am," Lando said, his voice firm. "Where else would I be?"

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of the day's events settling between them. And though neither of them said it aloud, the bond they shared felt stronger than ever.