 Bathes in Maple Syrup | Dancing Lobster | Moy Pomidor | Seneca's Beard | That Is So Fetch!
The Great Hall blazed with Gryffindor colours—scarlet banners rippling overhead, golden light flickering off every goblet and plate. Gryffindor had taken the House Cup from Slytherin, and Beauden was grinning like he'd swallowed a sunbeam. Beauden sat in the thick of it all, flushed with victory and full to bursting—not just from the feast, but from the wild, fizzy feeling that this chapter was finally over.
Beauden glanced up at the enchanted ceiling. It shimmered with a summer night sky, soft and endless. He was leaving. No more lessons. No more pointless tests. No more trying to remember how many drops of Antidote to Uncommon Poisons were necessary to neutralise doxy venom (he still didn't know). The thought made him want to laugh and cry all at once.
He nudged the housemate beside him. "You know," he said, voice a bit too bright to hide the lump in his throat, "I won't miss the lectures. Or the essays. Or those 6 a.m. Quidditch practices in the snow."
Pause. A softer smile now.
"But I'll miss this." The social interactions, the endless piles of food, the nooks and crannies of the castle.
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