The train ride back to Hogwarts was uneventful, filled with the usual murmur of conversation and the rhythmic ctter of the wheels against the tracks. Hermione sat in the Slytherin compartment, surrounded by familiar faces—Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass, Bise Zabini, and Theo Nott. Though she kept her expression as composed as ever, she couldn’t shake the feeling of something settling within her, as though the past few weeks had fundamentally altered something she couldn’t yet define.

  As expected, polite conversation filled the compartment. Bise was the first to address her directly, his tone casual yet interested.

  “How were your winter holidays, Granger? Did you celebrate the solstice?”

  Hermione had expected such a question. They wanted to know whether she adhered to the old ways, which of course she did now she had learnt about her family and magic. Her response was to say she had celebrated the solstice, but the words never left her lips, and for a fleeting moment, panic stirred inside her. She attempted to say something else instead, and this time, the words formed naturally.

  “I… spent time with my parents,” she finally said, carefully choosing the words. These words were not held back. “Read quite a bit, as usual.”

  Daphne smirked. “Naturally. You’d probably revise in your sleep if you could.”

  Hermione chuckled, forcing herself to push aside the discomfort curling in her chest. Before she could dwell on the oddity of what had just happened, Bise spoke again. “And the Solstice? Did you celebrate?”

  She hesitated for a fraction of a second. She tried to say yes, to give the expected response, but again, the words didn’t form. She felt an odd pressure in her throat, an unnatural resistance that made it impossible to force the words out. Why? That was the real question. She tried again, this time choosing a different approach, something indirect.

  “No, we didn’t celebrate the Solstice,” she said, but the words still felt off. Not forced, but not entirely true either. Something was stopping her from shaping reality into a falsehood. That thought unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

  She needed to test this. Verify whether this was mere coincidence or something more insidious. A lie—could she tell a small one? A harmless one?

  She swallowed and tried again, attempting to say she had spent her entire holiday in London, but the resistance smmed into pce again.

  Wait, she couldn’t lie?

  A slow, creeping realisation settled over her, curling at the edges of her mind like a puzzle snapping into pce.

  Taking a steady breath, she forced herself to move past it, focus on a different phrasing.

  “As much as I would have liked to, no. This Solstice, I was tested.”

  There was a pause. Theo sat forward, interest piqued. “Tested how?”

  Daphne blinked, looking genuinely surprised. “You never talk about things like that, Granger.”

  Bise, watching her closely, added, “What do you mean by tested?”

  Hermione mentally cursed herself. She had said too much without meaning to, and now she needed to navigate the conversation without revealing anything. But she still couldn’t lie. She would have to be careful.

  “It was a family matter,” she said carefully. “One I wasn’t expecting.”

  Draco, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke, his voice slower, more considering. “So that’s why you feel different.”

  Hermione met his gaze. “What do you mean?”

  Draco tilted his head slightly. “Your magic. It feels… heavier. Settled. Not quite the same as it was before the break.”

  Daphne nodded in agreement. “I noticed it too. It’s subtle, but it’s there. Magic changes after rituals. It happens in old families.”

  Hermione took a slow breath. They hadn’t figured out exactly what had changed, but they knew something had. She needed to be careful.

  “The best tests always leave a mark,” she said lightly, steering the conversation away from herself. “And growth comes in unexpected ways.”

  Theo huffed a ugh. “That’s a very roundabout way of saying ‘I’m not telling you anything.’”

  Hermione smiled. “Precisely.”

  For the first time in a long while, she felt a faint sense of ease. It wasn’t much, but it was something. The casual teasing, the half-serious back and forth—it made the gap between her and her peers feel just a little smaller. She wasn’t just the girl who had outpaced them, the one with knowledge and thoughts too vast for her age. For once, she wasn’t an outsider looking in.

  And that was a comfort she hadn’t realised she missed.

  The Great Hall was already bustling with students when Hermione entered, the long tables filled with the usual excited chatter of cssmates catching up after the holidays. She moved toward the Slytherin table with practiced ease, keeping her expression calm and unreadable.

  She had barely taken her seat when she sensed someone approaching. Looking up, she saw Luna Lovegood standing beside her, her usual dreamy expression repced with something more… knowing.

  Luna leaned in slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Hello, Hermione Granger, Wanderer.”

  Wanderer. Only one being had called her that before.

  Hermione's mind sharpened in an instant. She studied Luna more carefully, considering what she knew—her strange way of speaking, her odd yet often correct insights.

  If Luna was one, Hermione needed to tread carefully.

  “It is nice to meet you. How may I address you?” Hermione asked, being careful not to ask for her name.

  Luna’s rge eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering through them before a soft, knowing smile curled at her lips. “Oh, you do learn quickly,” she said airily, tilting her head. “That’s good. It’s always better to know the rules before you break them. You may call me Lou.”

  Hermione felt something cold settle in her chest, though she kept her expression neutral. Luna hadn't given her true name. That was intentional.

  “Be careful with favours,” Luna continued in the same soft, distant tone, her gaze never leaving Hermione’s. “Some are given freely, but others… others are called in when you least expect them.”

  Then, without missing a beat, Luna smiled even wider and said, “So, thank you, Hermione Granger, for handling those nasty sorts who were bothering me.”

  Hermione stiffened.

  Luna shouldn’t have known about that.

  There was no way she should have known that Hermione had intervened at all. And yet, she had thanked her—knowing exactly what it meant, knowing exactly what she was doing.

  Luna Lovegood had just offered her a favour, and Hermione felt it settle into the very fabric of her magic.

  She needed to respond, carefully.

  Was Luna a Fae? No—she had family. But… after her mother passed, her father was said to have gone mad. And Luna? She had spoken of pying with fairies as a child. Everyone had assumed she meant the dark creatures.

  What if she hadn’t?

  What if she had meant the Fae? Did that mean she was a Foundling?

  Hermione hesitated. Something deep in her mind warned her against outright accepting the favour. This felt like a test.

  Refusing wasn’t an option, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be in debt either.

  She reached into her pocket, fingers brushing against the carefully preserved Cycmen she had collected during the Solstice. She had learned to carry offerings now.

  “Lua, I did not deal with the nuisance for a favour. However, I accept your thanks in the spirit it is offered. So perhaps we could barter a compromise?”

  She pced the flower beside Luna’s pte, her voice measured but warm.

  “Please accept this as a token of our friendship.”

  Luna’s fingers hovered over the Cycmen, her silvery gaze flickering between the delicate petals and Hermione’s carefully neutral expression. The long pause stretched between them, filled with unspoken meaning, before Luna’s lips curled into something just shy of amusement.

  “A token of friendship?” she echoed softly, as though testing the weight of the words.

  Hermione nodded, keeping her posture rexed, her hands folded neatly before her on the table. She knew better than to rush this—this wasn’t just an idle exchange. This was a negotiation, an agreement wrapped in the delicate veil of social niceties.

  Luna hummed lightly, her fingers finally moving to brush over the petals. “Friendship,” she murmured. “Not a debt. Not a promise. But a bond freely given.”

  She lifted the Cycmen carefully, rolling the stem between her fingers as though committing its shape to memory. Then, without breaking eye contact, she took a small piece of bread from her pte, broke it, and pced a portion beside Hermione’s goblet.

  An offering in return.

  Hermione exhaled softly, her shoulders rexing just a fraction. The bance had been restored.

  Luna tilted her head. “You’re cautious,” she observed, her voice still quiet enough that only Hermione could hear. “You understood the weight of my words. Most wouldn’t.”

  Hermione allowed herself a small, measured smile. “Perhaps, but doesn’t that make things more interesting?” Then, after a moment of consideration, she added, “You may address me as Mia.”

  Luna’s eyes gleamed with something that wasn’t quite amusement, wasn’t quite approval, but something in between. She gave a small, knowing nod.

  “I think we’re going to get along very well, Mia.”

  Hermione’s breath hitched slightly. There was something unsettling about being so immediately understood, but there was also comfort in it.

  Luna tucked the Cycmen into her robes and picked up her own meal as though nothing had happened, as though this exchange had been nothing more than casual conversation. But Hermione knew better.

  Something had shifted between them. Something quiet but significant.

  As Luna turned to return to the Ravencw table, Hermione stared at the small piece of bread on her pte.

  A returned gift. A gesture of acknowledgment.

  And despite everything—despite all the unanswered questions swirling in her mind—Hermione found herself pleased.

  She had not expected to make a friend that night. But Luna Lovegood was full of surprises.

  She had barely picked up her goblet when she caught movement from the corner of her eye.

  Daphne was watching her.

  Not just watching—staring.

  Hermione turned to meet her gaze, only to find a very peculiar expression on Daphne’s face. Her usually composed features held a flicker of something uncertain, something oddly put out.

  “You gave her a nickname,” Daphne said, her voice carefully neutral, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

  Hermione frowned slightly. “Yes?”

  Daphne studied her for a moment longer before picking up her own goblet and taking a slow sip, as if weighing her words.

  “I’ve been trying to be your friend for over a year,” she finally said, her tone light, but not entirely joking. “And you never invited me to call you anything other than Granger.”

  Hermione blinked.

  She wasn’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to her before, but now that Daphne had pointed it out, she realised it was true. Daphne had been one of the first people in Slytherin to show her any real kindness, and while their friendship/alliance had grown over time, Hermione had never… truly acknowledged it in this way.

  She had done it with Luna instinctively, but not with Daphne.

  Why? Yes Lua was a Foundling and she knew Hermione had a past life based on her words, was that all though?

  Hermione inhaled slowly and set her goblet down, turning to fully face Daphne. “Would you like to?” she asked simply.

  Daphne raised an eyebrow, as if trying to decipher whether Hermione was joking or not.

  Hermione met her gaze evenly.

  After a beat, Daphne gave a small, self-satisfied smirk and nodded. “Yes. I think I would.”

  Hermione inclined her head slightly. “Then you may. Although I’ll need to start calling you a nickname then, about Tafy?” she teased. But then she realised, her words with Daphne had taken on the same power her words with Luna had, it made sense they did with Luna if she was a Foundling, but why had they done the same with Daphne? Something to discuss with Luna ter she surmised.

  Daphne gave a pleased little hum, though she didn’t immediately so no to the nickname she had a small happy smirk etched on her face.

  Draco, who had been watching the entire exchange with mild interest, shook his head faintly. “Well, now I feel left out.”

  Hermione rolled her eyes, reaching for her fork. “You’ll manage, Malfoy.”

  Theo snorted into his goblet, and Bise, as ever, simply smirked.

  Daphne, however, looked far more pleased with herself than she had just moments before.

  Hermione wasn’t sure why she felt so relieved that she had done it, but… she did.

  And that, too, was unexpected.

  Bise, who had been silent through most of the exchange, finally spoke. He leaned back slightly in his seat, his gaze flicking between Hermione and Daphne before settling back on Hermione.

  “Well, that was… interesting,” he remarked, his voice light but curious. “Not what I was expecting to witness over dinner.”

  Hermione gave him a sidelong gnce. “How so?” It was pretty obvious based on how the conversation had gone with Lua, it was certainly not conventional.

  Bise gestured vaguely. “The whole thing—the flower, the food, the names. That wasn’t just a casual conversation, was it?”

  Hermione considered her words carefully. She couldn’t lie, but she could shape the truth.

  “It’s a family tradition” she said smoothly. “From before the old ways. I wasn’t expecting anyone here at Hogwarts to understand it.” Certainly not a lie, as the fae predated Wix completely, and she never said it was her family tradition.

  Bise hummed in thought. “And yet, she did.” His gaze flicked toward where Luna was now seated at the Ravencw table, chatting animatedly with her housemates as though she hadn’t just turned Hermione’s world slightly askew.

  Hermione nodded, her fingers tapping lightly against the table. “Many here misunderstand Lua,” she said, voice thoughtful. “But she is my friend.”

  She looked toward Luna again, watching as she spoke animatedly with her housemates, smiling as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, but she saw the looks she received from most of her housemates and she didn’t like them.

  “She is my friend,” Hermione repeated, more to herself than to anyone else. “And I will make sure the people who need to know, know.” Her magic once again, forming a promise.

  Daphne and Bise both caught the way she phrased it, their attention shifting toward Luna. Their eyes followed Hermione’s gaze, taking in the quiet way Luna was being regarded by her own housemates, the gnces that were just a little too dismissive, too unconcerned.

  Then, almost in unison, they nodded.

  Daphne took a slow sip of her drink before setting it down, her voice even but firm. “Agreed.” Unknowingly she had bound herself to the pact Hermione made.

  Bise smirked, though there was something sharper underneath it now, something that almost sounded like an oath when he spoke.

  “Oh, this will be fun to watch.”

  The conversation moved on, but Hermione knew that tonight had shifted something—between her and Luna, between her and Daphne, even between her and Bise.

  She wasn’t sure yet what it all meant, but one thing was clear.

  She was no longer as alone as she had been before.