The Hollow Beneath Hogwarts

22. The Gambler

If having her own dormitory had been exciting, having her own bedroom felt almost unreal.

Sloane stood just inside the doorway for nearly a full minute after Professor McGonagall had left them, simply staring around the room in quiet disbelief. It was hers. Entirely hers.

No rows of cubicles. No dozens of students breathing, talking, snoring, crying, or arguing on the other side of a thin divider. No lack of privacy. No feeling trapped.

Just... space.

The room was large and open, with soft grey wooden floors and tall windows that let silver moonlight spill across everything in pale ribbons. The curtains hanging around the windows were a smoky charcoal grey, moving gently every now and then from the breeze sneaking in through the cracked balcony doors somewhere down the hall.

A large double bed sat against the far wall beneath a beautifully upholstered grey fabric headboard. The bedding was crisp white, the duvet thick and cloud-like enough that Sloane immediately wanted to collapse into it face first. A thick grey-and-white circular rug rested beneath the bed, soft beneath her feet.

The whole room felt airy. Calm. Quiet. Safe. And somehow that nearly made her emotional.

Goose, meanwhile, immediately claimed ownership of the room before she even could.

The Niffler sprinted across the floor, scrambled onto the bed, bounced twice dramatically, then disappeared underneath the pillows like a tiny burglar testing mattress quality.

"I see you approve," Sloane muttered.

A muffled squeak came from beneath the duvet. Sloane laughed softly before opening the final box Joanna had insisted she bring. The second she lifted the lid, homesickness punched her square in the chest. Not painful exactly. Just... sharp.

Because every single thing inside had been packed with care.

Joanna had thought of everything.

Right at the top sat several cushions in dusky blue, soft grey, and delicate matching floral patterns. Sloane smiled immediately as she scattered them across the bed and window seat, the room already beginning to feel warmer.

Next came a thick dusky-blue throw blanket that she draped across the bottom of the bed.

Then matching curtain tie-backs. Then charmed fairy lights.

"Oh, Jo," Sloane whispered fondly.

She carefully removed the heavy curtains surrounding the four-poster bed and replaced them with the glowing fairy lights instead, winding them around the posts until warm golden light twinkled softly overhead like tiny floating stars.

Instantly the entire room transformed. Cosier. Softer. More hers.

Goose emerged from the pillows wearing one of the fairy lights around his neck like jewellery. "You are not helping."

He chirped proudly.

Sloane transfigured one of the empty boxes into a miniature bed for him, complete with tiny pillows and a little grey duvet to match her own. Goose stared at it. Then at her.

Then immediately flung himself dramatically into the tiny bed like a Victorian woman fainting onto a chaise lounge.

"You are so spoiled."

He rolled over onto his back.

She continued unpacking. Several little potted plants were arranged around the room next, bringing small splashes of green to the otherwise grey and blue tones. Then came framed photographs.