GAMES OF FATES (H.P/T.M.R)

Snacks and Company

Cassopiea sat cross-legged on her bed, textbooks sprawled out like the aftermath of a particularly chaotic Quidditch match. Her roommates, Veda and Calliope, flanked her, engaged in a lively debate about the merits of various spells they had been learning.

“I’m telling you, if you can’t even Summon a feather, how do you expect to handle anything harder?” Cassopiea quipped, tossing a lock of her brown hair over her shoulder.

Calliope rolled her eyes, leaning back against the wall. “Feathers are so last year. I’m more concerned about the charms that require actual finesse, not just a simple flick of the wand.”

“Ah, yes, because impressing our tutors is far more important than getting past a pathetic feather,” Cassopiea chimed in, her raven curls bouncing with every word. “How will you ever face your fellow students with that kind of weakness?”

“Pathetic? You wound me,” Calliope replied, clutching her heart dramatically. “I could charm a goblin out of its gold, thank you very much.”

They laughed, the sound ringing through the cozy confines of their shared room. The air was filled with the scent of parchment and ink, punctuated by the faint whiff of the lavender sachets Calliope insisted on hanging near the window.

As they continued their light-hearted jabs, the looming specter of exams drifted to the back of Cassopiea's mind. They took turns quizzing each other, her spirits lifting with each playful exchange. Yet, beneath the laughter lay a thread of anxiety that tugged at her, reminding her of the seriousness of her situation.

Later that night, after their study session had devolved into a mix of giggles and half-hearted attempts at serious revision, Cassopiea found herself wandering the dimly lit corridors of Shambhala Vidyashrama. She was hungry, but it wasn’t just any hunger—it was a craving that felt more like a persistent whisper, nagging at her until she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Pushing open the heavy kitchen door, she stepped inside, greeted by the warm, comforting scent of baked goods and spices. It was one of those magical kitchens that seemed to always have something delightful waiting.

She rummaged through the cupboards, searching for something sweet when suddenly she felt a light touch on her shoulder.

“Blimey!” Cassopiea jumped, spinning around, ready to defend herself. Instead, she found a tall, well-built boy with tousled hair and an amused smile that instantly disarmed her. “Who are you, and why are you sneaking up on me in the dark?”

“Agastya,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing. “Heir to the royal family of Dwarka. And you must be Cassopiea Potter, the girl everyone is buzzing about.”

“Buzzing? I’d prefer it if they were buzzing about my charm work rather than my ‘delicate condition,’” she replied, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

“Touché! But hey, you’re in good company. I’ve been known to sneak around the kitchen late at night myself. It’s where all the best ideas come from—mostly food-related, but still.”

Cassopiea laughed, her earlier fright melting away. “Food-related ideas are the best kind. What brings you here at this hour, then? Surely a royal like you has better things to do than rummage for snacks.”

“Royal duties, my dear, are often highly overrated,” Agastya replied, leaning against the counter with a casual confidence. “And besides, I couldn’t resist seeing what culinary magic was happening at this hour.”

As he spoke, Cassopiea’s mind began to wander, her thoughts drifting to Marvolo. Since arriving at Shambhala, their connection had felt distant, almost fragile. She remembered his intense gaze, the way he seemed to see straight through her. But now, here in the warmth of the kitchen, she felt a flicker of hope. If Agastya could make her laugh, maybe there was still light to be found.