"𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙮"
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IN WHICH ~ Jupiter Cassiopeia Lestrange thought she could escape her family's dark legacy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but in her second year, Tom Riddle's diar...
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"Normality is a paved road; it is comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow."
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet, his silver beard catching the flickering candlelight as he glanced down with a soft smile at Neville, who had just regained consciousness after Hermione had shaken him awake.
"Why's it always me?" Neville mumbled, blinking dazedly as he settled back on the bench.
Dumbledore's gaze swept warmly over the hall, his arms opening wide in welcome. "I have only two words to say to you," he announced, his deep voice carrying effortlessly across the room. "Tuck in."
Immediately, the empty golden plates in front of them filled to the brim with steaming dishes. Ron didn't need a second invitation—he plunged his spoon into a mountain of mashed potatoes and shoved it into his mouth with a satisfied groan.
"Aaah, 'at's be'er," he mumbled through his full mouth.
Just then, Nearly Headless Nick materialized beside them at the Gryffindor table, his semi-detached head bobbing slightly as he looked around.
"You're lucky there's a feast at all tonight, you know," Nick informed them with a knowing expression. "There was trouble in the kitchens earlier."
"Why? Wha' 'appened?" Harry asked, his voice muffled by a hearty bite of steak.
"Close your mouth," Jupiter muttered, her old etiquette training kicking in instinctively.
In response, Harry leaned toward her, grinning mischievously, and stuck his tongue out, making an exaggerated 'aaaaa' sound to display the half-chewed mixture of steak and potatoes.
"You're disgusting," Jupiter groaned, rolling her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. Moments like these reminded her of just how much of a teenage boy Harry truly was.
"Yeah, we thought Peeves seemed hacked off about something," Ron added, turning back to Nick as Jupiter tried to refocus. "So what did he do in the kitchens?"
"Oh, the usual," Nearly Headless Nick replied, shrugging as if it were all part of a routine. "Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits—"
CLANG.
Hermione's golden goblet had tipped over, and pumpkin juice spilled across the table, staining the white linen in a spreading pool of orange. But she hardly noticed; her attention was fixed on Nick, her expression growing tense.
"There are house-elves here?" she demanded, staring at Nick in horror. "Here at Hogwarts?"
"Certainly," Nick answered, seeming slightly baffled by her reaction. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."
