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✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩ ━━ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝗵𝐫𝐞𝐞:
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The second Elodie stepped inside her dormitory, something felt off. The room was dark – more than usual. And too quiet. The moment she caught sight of Anastasia lounging on her bed with a far-too-innocent wide grin, Elodie felt a flicker of suspicion. "What are you up to, Anastasia?" Elodie asked warily, dropping her textbooks and parchments onto her desk.
Anastasia twirled her wand around her lengthy fingers, her freshly polished nails on display. Her grin was growing wider by the second. "Oh, nothing. I just had an idea and thought I'd liven up things in here." Before Elodie could question her scenery ideas, Anastasia flicked her wand in a quick, swift motion. "Crinus Muto!"
A strange, tingling sensation swept over Elodie's scalp. She froze, wide-eyed, as Anastasia's grin grew impossibly wider. "What did you just—" Elodie darted to the nearest mirror, gasping in horror. Her once dark hair was now a blinding shade of bright pink, shimmering under the dim dormitory lights. Every strand, from root to tip, had been transformed into a vivid, bubblegum explosion. "ANASTASIA!" Elodie shrieked, clutching her now-pink locks. "What have you done?!"
"Just something I learned today in Transfiguration. Thought I would give it a try," she giggled, getting up from bed. Anastasia beelined for the mirror where Elodie was standing with her mouth agape. She reached out to touch Elodie's bubblegum pink hair, but before she could, Elodie forcefully grabbed at her slim wrist.
"You will change my hair back. Now," Elodie hissed, her voice abrupt and strident. Anastasia shook her head, cackling loud enough for her laugh to echo off the stone walls of their shared dormitory. Elodie gripped Anastasia's wrist tighter in a fruitless attempt to intimidate the girl, but Anastasia was relentless.
"I don't think I will."
"Why?"
"I don't know the counter-charm! You'll just have to wait until after next class for Dumbledore to teach us."
Elodie's heart raced with frustration. "You think this is funny? You're a fucking bitch and—"
"You're going to kill me?" Anastasia tusks, ripping her arm from Elodie's grasp. "Oh, Elodie, always so predictable."
