The Potions classroom was abuzz with the usual pre-lesson chatter as students prepared their workstations. Professor Horner clapped his hands for attention, his cheerful voice cutting through the din.

"Today, we tackle the Confusing Concoction! A delightful test of precision and patience. Pair up, as always, and let's see which team has the steadiest hands and sharpest minds!"

Carlos was already setting up at his usual table, humming under his breath- something Oscar hadn't seen him do in ages.

"Well, someone's in a good mood," he said, sliding onto the bench beside him. "Did you sleep through a whole week and wake up refreshed?"

Carlos shot him a grin. "Maybe I'm just better at potions than you think."

"Uh-huh." Oscar leaned closer, squinting at Carlos suspiciously. "Who are you, and what have you done with my actual partner?"

Carlos chuckled, nudging Oscar with his elbow. "Let's just focus on not blowing anything up this time, alright?"

The Confusing Concoction was a tricky brew, requiring precise steps and careful timing. Carlos took charge of organising their ingredients, his movements smooth and confident.

Oscar watched him closely as they worked. Carlos' cheerful demeanor wasn't forced- it seemed genuine- but that only made it more confusing. It wasn't as though Carlos was never happy, it was just that he hadn't been ever since Lando and him started their "little treasure hunt" as Oscar couldn't help but refer to it as.

"You're really into this today," Oscar remarked as Carlos expertly chopped Sopophorous beans.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Carlos replied, not looking up. "It's a challenge, and I'm feeling up to it."

"Feeling up to it?" Oscar repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Last week, you looked like the sky was falling. Now you're humming and smiling over potion ingredients? Come on, what's going on? You've not been like this for ages."

Carlos shrugged, still smiling. "Maybe I've just decided to focus on the good stuff for a change."

Oscar's skepticism deepened, but he let it drop- for now.

As they reached the critical step of adding Bicorn horn extract, Oscar hesitated. "Careful," he warned, holding the vial. "This stuff is-"

"Unstable. I know," Carlos finished, reaching for it. "Let me do it."

Oscar hesitated. "You sure? I mean, your shoulder and all-"

"I've got it," Carlos said firmly, his confidence unwavering.

With a steady hand, he added a single drop of the extract. The potion hissed and turned a vibrant shade of violet, signaling success.

"Not bad," Oscar admitted, clearly impressed. "Where's this sudden competence coming from?" He joked, staring at him.

Carlos smirked. "Sudden? I'm hurt. This is one of my best subjects."

As they moved on to the cooling stage, Oscar couldn't hold back his curiosity any longer.

"Alright, seriously," he said, turning to face Carlos. "You're acting... different. What's up? Did something happen?"

Carlos blinked, his cheerful expression faltering slightly. "What do you mean?"

"You're just... happier. It's weird."

Carlos laughed, though there was a slight edge to it. "Weird? Gracias, Cabrón. I'll take that as a compliment."

"I didn't mean it like that." Oscar sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just- never mind. Forget I said anything."

Carlos glanced at him, his smile softening. "Maybe I'm just trying to be better, you know? Happier. It doesn't always have to be complicated."

Oscar tilted his head, studying him. "Alright. If you say so."

Their potion was nearly finished when the cauldron began to bubble violently.

"What did you do?" Carlos asked, stirring frantically.

"Me? You're the one who adjusted the heat!"

"Because you weren't paying attention! Por el amor de Dios..."

Before their bickering could escalate, Horner appeared behind them, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Ah, the delightful sound of teamwork," he said. "Might I suggest a touch of powdered Newt liver to stabilise that?"

Carlos quickly added the powder, and the potion settled back into a calm violet hue.

As they packed up their supplies, Oscar couldn't help but glance at Carlos again. He wasn't entirely convinced by his cheerful act, but he also didn't want to push too hard, not wanting to come off as rude: he was happy that Carlos was happy, he just wanted to know if it was real. They exited the classroom, the chatter of other students filled the air. Oscar noted that Carlos had a faint smile on his face-a genuine one, not the forced cheerfulness he occasionally used to mask his feelings. It was disarming.

"You know," Oscar started, his tone cautious, "You've been smiling all day. It's... unnerving."

Carlos snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets. "What? I'm not allowed to be in a good mood?"

"Not when it comes out of nowhere," Oscar replied, his brow furrowing. "I mean, I'm glad you're happy, but what gives? Did you win the lottery or something?"

Carlos laughed, the sound light and easy. "That's another one of your muggle expressions, no? It's just... I've got some good news. I'm getting this stupid sling off soon." He gestured to his immobilised arm with a small grimace. "Which means I can finally get back on my broom and practice for Quidditch again."

Oscar raised an eyebrow, his skepticism softening. "That's it? You're this happy because of Quidditch?"

Carlos stopped walking and turned to face O, his expression suddenly serious. "It's not just Quidditch. It's everything to me. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," Oscar said, crossing his arms.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor. "It's... it's the one thing I can control. When I'm on my broom, nothing else matters. Not my stupid arm, no one's opinions, certainly not the full moon, not..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "It's like the world disappears, and it's just me, the sky, and the game. I need that."

Oscar's skepticism melted completely as he listened. He'd never considered how much deeper Quidditch might run for Carlos- how it wasn't just a sport but a lifeline.

"You know," Oscar said after a pause, his voice quieter, "I used to think you were just obsessed with winning. But it's not about that, is it?"

Carlos shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Winning's nice, but no. It's about... freedom, I guess. Feeling like I'm not trapped by everything else. I also just so happen to be good at it."

Oscar nodded slowly, piecing things together in his mind. "That's why you've been so restless. Being grounded like this- it's driving you mad."

Carlos let out a humorless laugh. "You have no idea."

They resumed walking, the mood between them quieter but more thoughtful.

"I swear, the second Madam Pomfrey gives me the all-clear, I'm heading straight to the pitch."

Oscar chuckled. "You're gonna wear yourself out, you know."

"Maybe," he replied with a grin, "But it'll be worth it."

Oscar glanced at him, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. "Hey, uh... I know I haven't exactly been your biggest supporter when it comes to Quidditch. But... I get it now. It's important to you, and I'll try not to give you such a hard time about it."

Carlos looked at him, surprised but touched. "Gracias, mi amigo."

"Don't mention it," Oscar said, waving a hand. "Just don't expect me to cheer for Gryffindor." Carlos rolled his eyes, the playful banter easing the tension.

As they parted ways, Oscar couldn't stop thinking about their conversation. For the first time, he saw just how much Carlos relied on Quidditch- not for the glory or the competition, but for the sense of normalcy and release it gave him.

Sitting alone in the Hufflepuff common room later that evening, Oscar scribbled half-heartedly at his homework, his thoughts still on Carlos.

He said the full moon no longer matters... was it the same before he was bitten? Is that the reason he plays? When- how was he even bitten?

He frowned, his quill pausing mid-sentence. How much else is he hiding?

The thought sent a pang of guilt through him. He'd spent so much time pushing and prodding at Carlos, trying to uncover the truth, that he'd never stopped to consider how much he might be carrying on his own.

"I'll do better," Oscar muttered to himself, setting his quill down. And for the first time in a long while, he actually believed it.

His unusually cheerful demeanor didn't go unnoticed by his closest friends. By the time they were sitting at their usual table in the Great Hall for lunch, Lewis and Charles had already exchanged a series of curious glances. Lando, seated beside Carlos, was especially attuned to the shift.

"So," Lewis began casually, resting his chin in his palm as he studied Carlos, "What's with the sunshine and rainbows today? I've missed this, y'know."

Carlos looked up from his plate, a slice of pie halfway to his mouth. "What are you talking about?"

"You're happy," Charles chimed in, leaning forward. "It's weird."

Carlos rolled his eyes and took a bite of his pie, speaking around it. "I'm always happy."

"Not recently you're not," Lando commented, his voice quieter but no less firm. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "You're usually... I don't know? Distracted? But today, you're actually smiling, and it's not the 'pretend I'm fine' kind either."

Carlos' cheeks tinged pink, and he hastily took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "You lot are impossible. Can't a guy just have a good day without being interrogated?"

"Sure," Lewis said with a sly grin. "But this is you we're talking about. Something's up."

Carlos sighed dramatically, setting his goblet down with a clink. "Fine, if you must know- Madam Pomfrey said I'm getting this thing off next week." He waved his immobilised arm for emphasis. "Which means I can finally get back to playing Quidditch."

Charles' face lit up with understanding. "Oh! That makes sense. No wonder you're so cheerful."

Lando, however, still seemed unconvinced. He tilted his head, his brows knitting together. "I mean, I know you're like- international level, but like I didn't know it actually meant that much to you?"

Carlos turned to him, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face before he masked it with his usual bravado. "Of course it does. It's not just a game, you know. It's... my thing."

Lewis smirked. "Your thing? That's the best you can come up with?"

"Shut up," Carlos said, chuckling despite himself.

As the conversation shifted to other topics, Lando couldn't help but keep watching him. There was a lightness to him today, a sense of ease that had been missing for weeks.

Quidditch, he thought, rolling the word around in his mind. He'd always known Carlos was passionate about the sport, everyone in Hogwarts knew he was, but this was the first time he realised how integral it was to his friend's sense of self.

"Hey, Chili?" he asked later, "If Quidditch is your thing, what's mine?"

Carlos blinked at him, caught off guard. "Uh... being annoyingly curious?"

Lando laughed. "I'm serious."

Carlos tilted his head, considering the question. "I don't know. You're good at a lot of things. Runes, Transfiguration, keeping me out of trouble-"

"Sometimes," Lando interrupted, grinning.

"Sometimes," Carlos conceded with a smile. "But I don't think you've found your thing yet."

He nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just waiting for it to find me."

"Are you two having a heart-to-heart over there?" Lewis called, snapping Lando out of his reverie.

"Maybe," he replied, smirking.

Charles waggled his eyebrows. "Careful, Carlos. If you keep being this happy, the Slytherins might think you've gone soft."

Carlos snorted. "Trust me, I'm as tough as ever. But if it makes you feel better, I'll scowl for the rest of the day."

"Much better," Lewis said with a grin.