𝑬𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑳 . . . 𝗂-ˈ𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗋-ē-ə𝗅
༢ ͎۪۫ ༊ ❛ 𝖿𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 ﾉ 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗓𝗄𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗇. ❜
▇ ¨. ༢ ͎۪۫ ༊*·˚ ╱ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐 ❜
. . . ➾ ˗ˏˋ dementors , first years , and feasts ࿐ྂ
𝗗𝗔𝗪𝗡 𝗔𝗟𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗗𝗚𝗘

     𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑮𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑻 𝑯𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑴𝑨𝑮𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳, it always had been. Even after all these years, its charm hadn't worn off. The endless rows of floating candles cast a warm glow on the long tables, and the enchanted ceiling mirrored the crisp autumn sky outside. My favorite time here, though, was Christmas, with the Hall adorned in festive decorations and snowflakes drifting gently from above, melting just before they touched the ground.

     I sat at our usual spot, halfway down the table, a spot perfectly positioned for viewing everyone else without being in the direct line of sight. Cassian was beside me, casually lounging like he owned the place, while Wren sat across, twisting a strand of her light hair around her finger. She'd been doing that all evening, tossing furtive glances at Cassian that she probably thought were subtle. They weren't.

     Cassian, to his credit, seemed oblivious. Or maybe he was pretending. Either way, Wren was attempting to lay it on thick without drawing too much attention to herself — a nearly impossible task given that Cassian always commanded attention without trying. His grey eyes were sharp, and his smirk was as insufferable as it was effective.

     "Did you have a nice summer, Cass?" Wren asked, her voice a shade lighter than usual. She toyed with her goblet, her fingers tracing the edge. I glanced at her from beneath my lashes. Honestly, if she got any more obvious, she might as well tattoo his name on her forehead.

     Cassian turned his head toward her, offering that lazy, lopsided grin that made girls stupid. "Not bad. Spent most of it dodging my mum's boring dinner parties. What about you, love?"

     The nickname made her flush faintly, and she giggled — actually giggled. "Oh, you know, nothing exciting. Just spent time in London, went to a few shops." She let her gaze linger on him, her fingers still absently tracing the goblet. "Bet you were the life of those parties, though."

     "Hardly," Cassian said with a scoff, leaning back in his seat. "Although I did manage to sneak out of a couple with some help from my cousin. He's got a knack for distracting my mum long enough for me to slip away." He shot her a wink that made my eyes nearly roll out of my head.

     "Such a rebel," I drawled, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sneaking out of posh parties to — what? Hide in the garden?"

     Cassian shot me a look, his smirk widening. "Someone's jealous they didn't get an invite."

     "Jealous? Hardly," I said, swirling my pumpkin juice. "Your mum's parties sound about as thrilling as Binns' lectures."

     Wren laughed, a little too loudly, probably grateful for the deflection. "Honestly, Dawn's got a point, Cass. No one wants to spend their summer trapped with a load of boring old purebloods prattling on about lineage."

     "Not all of us can afford the luxury of complaining about posh parties," I said, my tone sharp but light enough to pass for teasing. "Some of us have to endure summer with our annoying siblings."

     Cassian smirked. "Your family chaos sounds far more entertaining. You should invite me over next summer."

     "Absolutely not," I said, deadpan. "My siblings would eat you alive, and frankly, I'd let them."

     He chuckled, and I caught the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at Wren's lips as she watched him. Poor girl. She was hopeless.

     The Great Hall doors creaked open, drawing everyone's attention. McGonagall strode in, her robes billowing as she led a line of wide-eyed first-years toward the front. The Sorting Hat sat atop its stool, looking as weathered and grumpy as ever. The Hall quieted, anticipation crackling in the air.

     "Here we go," I muttered, leaning on my hand as McGonagall began calling names. The Sorting Hat sang its usual dramatic song about unity and courage and cleverness, which was met with polite applause. Cassian yawned exaggeratedly, earning a stifled laugh from Wren.

     One by one, the first-years were sorted, their faces a mix of relief and nerves. A scrawny boy was placed in Gryffindor, followed by a nervous-looking girl sent to Hufflepuff. When a particularly sullen-looking girl was sorted into Slytherin, our table erupted in polite applause. The girl stumbled over her robes as she made her way over, nearly tripping. Cassian leaned toward me.

     "She's got the coordination of a troll," he murmured, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

     "Not everyone can strut into a room like they're Merlin reincarnated," I shot back.

     "Jealous again," he teased, nudging my shoulder with his.

     "Of you? Get over yourself," I said, though a small smirk tugged at my lips.

     The sound of applause pulled me out of my thoughts, and I realized with a jolt that we'd talked through the entirety of the choir's performance. Dumbledore had already stepped onto the platform, his arms spread wide in his usual grand manner.

     "Welcome, welcome to another year at Hogwarts," he said warmly, his voice carrying effortlessly over the Hall. "Now, I'd like to say a few words before we all become too befuddled by our excellent feast."

     "Few words?" I muttered, rolling my eyes. "It's never a few. I'll be thirty by the time I get to eat."

     Cassian smirked beside me. "Better savor that bread, then. It might be your last meal of the decade."

     Dumbledore continued, undeterred. "First, I'm pleased to welcome Professor R.J. Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Good luck, Professor."

     The Hall broke into polite applause as a shabby-looking man stood and gave a modest bow. Professor Lupin didn't look particularly remarkable — certainly not someone who could survive the infamous curse on that position — but I supposed we'd see soon enough.

     As the applause faded, my attention was drawn to a familiar drawl a few seats down. Malfoy. Of course.

     "Potter, Potter!" Malfoy sneered, his voice sharp enough to cut glass, his P's exaggerated to the point of ridiculousness. "Is it true you fainted? I mean, you actually fainted?"

     I couldn't help but glance over, watching Malfoy's smug expression as he leaned slightly forward, his cronies flanking him like loyal lapdogs.

     "Shove off, Malfoy," came the irritated reply from the Weasley boy, his voice dripping with contempt. Malfoy's sneer deepened, but before he could get another word in, McGonagall's sharp glare from the staff table silenced him. For once, I was grateful for her hawk-like vigilance.

     "Same old Malfoy," I muttered under my breath, turning back to my plate. "Still the absolute worst."

     Wren snickered. "Maybe if we're lucky, he'll lose his voice one of these days."

     "Doubtful," Cassian added, smirking. "That git would probably learn sign language just to keep being a prat."

     "... our Care of Magical Creatures teacher for many years has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs." Dumbledore's tone was light, though it drew a few uncomfortable chuckles from the room. "Fortunately, I am delighted to announce that his place will be taken by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid."

     At this, McGonagall nudged Hagrid, who had been seated at the middle of the staff table, looking uncharacteristically nervous. She motioned for him to stand, and when he did, his massive frame sent the entire table rattling. A stack of plates wobbled dangerously close to the edge, and poor Flitwick squeaked as he jumped up, grabbing at his goblet before it toppled over.

     "Sorry, sorry!" Hagrid's voice boomed, his hands slamming onto the table to steady it. The effort only made things worse, and a cascade of cutlery and dishes crashed to the floor.

     The room erupted in laughter, a mix of genuine amusement and a collective fondness for the half-giant. Even McGonagall cracked the faintest of smiles before she tugged at her robes and sat down primly.

     Hagrid's face turned a shade of scarlet visible even from where we sat. "Thank yeh," he muttered sheepishly, giving a small wave before lowering himself back into his seat with exaggerated caution.

     The laughter quickly died down as Dumbledore cleared his throat, his expression turning grave. "Finally, on a more disquieting note," he began, his voice carrying a weight that immediately silenced the Hall. "At the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will, until further notice, play host to the Dementors of Azkaban until such a time as Sirius Black is captured."

     A ripple of murmurs swept through the Great Hall, louder this time. Whispers of confusion and fear mixed with the clatter of utensils being set down. I exchanged a glance with Wren, who raised an eyebrow, her normally composed demeanor showing a flicker of unease.

     "The Dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, his gaze scanning the rows of students. "Now, whilst I have been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities, a word of caution. Dementors are vicious creatures. They will not distinguish between the one they hunt and the one who gets in their way."

     Wren leaned in slightly. "Cheerful start to the year, isn't it?" she whispered dryly.

     "Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you," Dumbledore warned, his voice growing sharper, almost commanding. "It is not in the nature of a Dementor to be forgiving."

     The Hall was utterly still now, save for the occasional rustle of robes or the faint sound of someone shifting nervously in their seat. I felt a cold chill creep up my spine, though I tried to mask it, straightening my posture.

     "But," Dumbledore added, his voice softening, "you know, happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times..." He raised his hand, extinguishing the candles in one smooth motion, plunging the Hall into a dim, flickering shadow. "...if one only remembers to turn on the light."

     With a casual wave of his hand, the candles relit, their warm glow washing over the Hall once more.

     "Well, that was bloody ominous," I muttered, reaching for my goblet.

     "Always a ray of sunshine, Dumbledore," Wren quipped, though her eyes lingered on the staff table, her brow furrowed slightly.

     Cassian smirked, but there was something forced about it. "Dementors and escaped convicts. Welcome back to Hogwarts."

     The feast began shortly after, food appearing in a glorious display across the tables. Platters of roast chicken, bowls of mashed potatoes, and baskets of fresh bread filled every inch. I grabbed a slice of bread and tore into it, ignoring the small group of fifth-year girls at the end of the table giggling and casting not-so-subtle glances at Cassian.

     "You've got fans," I said, nodding toward them.

     Cassian glanced over, then rolled his eyes. "Not interested."

     "Sure you aren't," I said. "You're just saving your charm for someone else, right?" I shot a sly glance at Wren, who had gone pink again.

     Cassian didn't rise to the bait, instead stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork. "You're insufferable, Dawn."

     "I know," I said with a grin.

     The rest of the feast passed in a blur of laughter, chatter, and Cassian's ongoing banter. By the time the plates cleared, and Dumbledore gave his usual start-of-term speech, I was half-asleep, barely listening as he went on about the Dementors stationed around the castle.

     As we filed out of the Hall and headed for the dungeons, Cassian slung an arm around my shoulders. "Ready for another thrilling year, darling?"

     "Thrilled," I said dryly. "Can't wait to spend another year in this damp dungeon with you lot."

     "Oi, we make it bearable," Wren said, her eyes sparkling as she walked beside us.

     "You're right," I said with mock solemnity. "It's a privilege to endure your company, truly."

     Cassian laughed, and for a moment, the weight of the new school year didn't feel so heavy. As much as they drove me mad, I wouldn't trade Wren or Cassian for anything.