Alina Nightshade doesn't think much about James Potter. Only that he seems rather keen on being annoying.
James Potter thinks Alina Nightshade is a mystery all wrapped up in a very pretty girl. And he is keen on trying to be her friend.
James Potte...
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Alina pushes the food around on her plate, barely noticing what she's doing. Two days have passed since they brewed Amortentia, and she hasn't stopped spiraling since.
Not that there's ever a clear beginning to her spiraling—it's more of a constant state, a relentless cycle she can't escape.
Halloween is only a few days away, and the castle has been steadily filling with festive decorations all month. Jack-o'-lanterns float through the corridors, bats flutter near the ceilings, and the occasional eerie whisper echoes from enchanted corners.
But Alina hardly notices any of it.
Even now, as she sits in the Great Hall at lunch, surrounded by the chatter and clatter of students, her mind feels trapped, her thoughts circling endlessly.
The only "solution" she's managed to come up with is to ignore it all. Pretend nothing has changed. That will work, won't it?
Sure, she sees James practically every day. Sure, she still feels that familiar flutter in her chest whenever she catches sight of his messy hair and warm, deer-like eyes.
But if she ignores it, if she pretends those feelings don't exist, everything will stay—
"Lia?"
Barty's voice pulls her abruptly back to reality. The clinking of dishes and silverware rushes in, and the bright sunlight streaming through the enchanted windows reflects off the polished tables.
"What?" she asks, turning toward him with a quick glance.
They're seated at the Slytherin table, the sun casting golden patterns across their plates. Barty leans slightly toward her, a pleading smile tugging at his lips—not his usual mischievous grin, but something softer.
"I need a favor," he says, his tone light but imploring.
Alina narrows her eyes suspiciously. "What kind of favor?"
Barty scratches the back of his neck, glancing around as if to make sure no one else is listening. "So... I may have broken my broom again. Or, well... someone might've messed with it. It's cursed. And, uh, I can't get the curse off."
Alina turns fully to face him, her expression sharpening. "Who did it?"
"It's fine, Lia. I'll handle them," Barty says quickly, waving off her question. "I just need your help fixing it."
Her brows knit together, but she doesn't push him. Not yet. "When do you need me?"
"Before dinner? If you're free?"
Alina sighs. "Fine. I'll meet you then."
Barty's face lights up, and he nods in thanks before turning back to his lunch. She glances around the table. Peter isn't there—wherever he is, it's not with them. Neither is Evan. Odd.
