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As Neville quietly settled into the dimly lit corner of his potions class, the weight of exhaustion bore down on him like a heavy cloak. The dim glow of flickering candles danced across the worn pages of his textbook .At long last, the  class drew close to an end, Neville hastily gathered his belongings, a sense of relief flooding through him. But just as he dared to hope for escape, a commanding voice sliced through the air, halting his movements

"Longbottom," Professor Snape's voice cut through the room, sharp and unfaltering, as he folded his arms across his chest

Neville turned back around slowly, a knot of nerves tightening in his stomach at Snape's summons. "Sit," Snape commanded, his finger indicating a nearby chair. Taking the seat quickly, Neville kept his gaze fixed on the table, avoiding Snape's piercing stare.

"Is it true you stood in front of my daughter the day of the fight?" Neville's nerves settled, replaced by a curious anticipation.

"Y-e-s, si-r," Neville stammered nervously, confirming his actions.

Snape's scoff caught Neville off guard, but his next words were unexpected. "You're not in trouble, Longbottom," Snape stated, his fingers massaging his temples in a rare display of vulnerability. Neville's head lifted, surprise etched across his features. "Really, sir?" he questioned, puzzled by Snape's uncharacteristic response.

Snape sighed, the weight of his acknowledgment evident in the lines of his face. "Thank you, Longbottom," he conceded, offering a rare moment of praise.

Neville's face lit up with disbelief. "Did Professor Snape just thank me?" he wondered to himself, a spark of warmth igniting within him.

"Now, leave," Snape commanded, breaking the moment, but Neville departed with a newfound sense of validation, sensing a subtle shift in Snape's perception of him.

—

During a long needed lunch break Sophorina     and Amarie indulged in their daily gossip "Did you read the headlines?" Marie questioned as soph looked at her questionably

"Uhhh," Soph paused, pondering, "No?" Marie responded with another exaggerated eye roll. "What?" Soph protested, "You know I don't read those—they're full of nonsense!" She shrugged, but Marie was undeterred, thrusting the paper into Soph's hands.

"Sirius Black in hiding from recent escape of Azkaban," Soph mumbled to herself as she scanned the headline. "And... Am I supposed to know who that is?" Soph questioned, oblivious to the significance, as Marie let out an exasperated sigh.

"You really need to catch up," Marie chided gently, punctuating her statement with a playful punch to Soph's arm. Soph cradled her arm dramatically, her mouth agape in mock astonishment. "What was that for?" she exclaimed.

But Marie simply responded with a sly smirk, her eyes sparkling with her antics

After Sophorina    's classes, her mind buzzed with unanswered questions, her thoughts consuming her. Ignoring the beckoning call of her dormitory, she veered towards the library.

As she ventured through the section housing the dusty old yearbooks, Sophorina's curiosity peaked. Dust hung in the air, tickling her nose and provoking a sneeze as she approached a neglected table.

With a crack, she opened one of the aging volumes, its pages whispering tales of the past. "You must be old," she quipped to the book: "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Class of 1975." Sophorina     quickly calculated that it was her father's fourth year.

Her eyes scanned the pages, a smile tugging at her lips as she saw faces frozen in time. Yet, amidst the sea of students, her father's presence was sparse. But for one striking image. Alone in a corner, her father stood with a black eye, the darkness around it hinting at the pain he must have endured. As she examined the photo further, she noticed four boys fixated on him.

Reading the names below the image, she murmured to herself, "Peter Pettigrew... Remus Lupin." Her brow furrowed in confusion. "He knew my father?" she pondered aloud, her mind racing.

Her gaze trailed to the remaining names: "James Potter... Sirius Black." A realization dawned on her, sending a shiver down her spine. They all knew him. The pieces of her father's past slowly began to fit together

her eyes landed on another figure—a woman, with long black hair, standing next to another girl. They shared a joyful smile. Sophorina's heart skipped a beat as she traced her finger along the names listed beneath the image. And then, she gasped. It read, "Selina Èveil."

"Mom," she whispered sadly, the ache of longing washing over her as she lingered on the page.

Sophorina     couldn't help but eavesdrop on the conversation unfolding nearby, her attention snagged by the commanding tone of Hermione's voice. "All right, so we meet in the common room and head out together," Harry confirmed confidently, his leadership evident as his companions nodded in agreement.

"But wait, at midnight, right?" Ron questioned, seeking clarity amidst the excitement. "Yes, Ron, and don't you dare be late, you two," Hermione asserted firmly, her tone laced with authority as she made it clear that punctuality was important

Sophorina     couldn't shake the feeling that the trio's hushed conversation held more than innocent planning, she resolved to investigate what the troublesome trio was up to.