ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ | RAB

First feast

The remainder of the train ride was filled with laughter and the chaotic excitement of exploding snap as Chloe and Avery indulged in four chocolate frogs, their wrappers crinkling in their hands. Neither girl had been picked for prefect duty this year, and they revelled in the freedom that came with it, delighting in the fact that they didn't have to monitor the new first years. Those first years had been an annoyingly boisterous bunch, filling the compartment with their chatter and buzzing energy throughout the journey.

As the Sorting Ceremony drew to a close, Avery found herself resting her head on her clasped hands, allowing her gaze to drift upward. The flickering floating candles illuminated the Great Hall with a warm, golden glow, casting dancing shadows across the enchanted ceiling that mirrored the night sky. She listened absently to Professor McGonagall's steady voice as she called out the last few names of the nervous first years, her mind wandering to thoughts of the upcoming Quidditch training next week and hoping for fair weather to accompany it.

"Ugh, finally!" Chloe's voice suddenly rang out, breaking Avery from her reverie. The last first year dashed to the top of the Gryffindor table, and Chloe's exclamation was laced with relief and impatience, drawing a soft chuckle from Avery as she shook her head at her friend's excitement.

"Have a good summer, Av?" a voice inquired from her left, lighthearted and teasing.

"I asked you not to call me that, Luke," Avery replied with a dramatic sigh, making eye contact with the mischievous blonde boy beside her, whose laughter only deepened her annoyance.

"It was fine. Still thinking of trying out for Quidditch this year?" She asked, her eyes sparkling with determination.

Avery couldn't help but think of the countless times Luke McGuinness had attempted to secure a position on the Quidditch team since second year. Each time, his unwavering persistence met with the same result: rejection.

"I'm gonna get it this year, Whitlock! You just wait and see!" he declared confidently, as though the universe had no choice but to bend to his will this time around.

Rolling her eyes, Avery turned her attention back to Chloe, who was now loading her plate with heaping piles of succulent chicken wings. "Why have you gone all quiet?" Avery pressed, curiosity flickering in her gaze.

"No reason," Chloe mumbled, suddenly lifting her goblet to her lips, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of rose. Avery's keen eyes zeroed in on where her friend was gazing—sneaking looks to the left.

"Oh my god—" she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Luke?! You can't be serious! I thought your little crush on him ended in third year?"

"Shush, will you!" Chloe hissed, her embarrassment palpable as she ducked her gaze. "I do not like him one bit."

A moment of silence hung between them, and then a smirk slowly crept across Avery's face. "Whatever you say, angel."

The remainder of the Start-of-Term Feast flew by in a blur of lighthearted banter and a spirited debate about who would don the title of Ravenclaw's Quidditch captain this year. But when Chloe's favourite chicken wings vanished and the last echoes of laughter faded, the Great Hall fell silent. All eyes turned expectantly as Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat at the staff table, his presence commanding the attention of every student.

"I won't keep you waiting too long, as I know your warm beds are calling," he began, his voice reverberating through the hall, "but I must point out the obvious."

Avery exchanged a tense glance with Chloe, their nerves palpable as hushed whispers started to ripple through the students. Anticipation hung thick in the air; it felt as though everyone sensed the weight of what Dumbledore was about to say.

"There is no doubt that our world is becoming more perilous with each passing day, so I implore you all to hold one another close as we navigate through these troubling times."

Avery instinctively hid her face behind her goblet, feeling the weight of several glances directed at her from those in her house who knew she was a Muggle-born. Chloe shot her a comforting smile, an anchor amidst the unease that settled over the hall.

"Now, off to bed, all of you! Perfects, please make your way to the top of your house tables to assist the first years," Dumbledore concluded, his voice warm yet firm.

With two sharp claps, the headmaster vanished from the Great Hall in a swirl of twinkling lights, eliciting a chorus of "ooohs" from the first years. Meanwhile, the returning students who had grown accustomed to Dumbledore's whimsical antics rose from their seats and began to shuffle out, the chatter of their excitement ringing in the air as the magical evening came to a close.

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