Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
SEVEN ACCIO AND OTHER TRAINWRECKS
🍒💌🕊
THE NEXT MORNING, INA wakes up bright and early, feeling more refreshed than she has in what feels like forever.
Maybe it's the sunlight that streams in through her window and casts a soft glow across the room, or maybe it's the knowledge that it's Saturday and she has the next two days to do whatever she wishes.
If she's being honest, though, it's most likely because she's almost finished with her Oscar Wilde.
She stretches lazily with a yawn, enjoying the tranquility and stillness of the morning. She can't remember the last time she woke up with no worries of school, the future, her sister—
Her sister.
The thought of Zera hits Ina so fast that she almost falls out of bed, and a million questions flash through her mind: Is Zera okay? What time is it? Is she still asleep? Has she slept through her quidditch trials?
She stumbles out of bed, barely managing to shove her feet into slippers before she's clambering for the small, rusted clock that rests on her bed side.
It reads 9:04 and Ina sags in relief. There's still time before the trials, and—well, there's always the possibility that Zera's up and already preparing for them... right?
The thought barely floats through her head before she's grabbing her towel and marching towards the baths. 15 minutes and a scalding shower later, she's pulling on her favorite jumper and a worn pair of jeans when she catches sight of the clock, which now reads 9:20.
"Oh Merlin," she mutters softly to herself, trying to shove her books into her bag as quietly as possible so not to disturb her dorm mates, and then she's rushing out of the Hufflepuff basement with barely enough time to cast a quick and crude heat charm to dry her hair.
Another ten minutes pass as she makes the all too familiar trek up from the dungeons to the Gryffindor tower, until she finally arrives at the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Ehrm," Ina huffs, slightly out of breath. "Peppermint drops?"
"Looking for your sister, are you?" The Fat Lady raises an eyebrow skeptically, and Ina nods.
"Yes, ma'am."
The Fat Lady sighs and rolls her eyes. "Well, you're not in Gryffindor, but I suppose I'll let you in..."
"Thank you!" Ina calls over her shoulder as she steps through the portrait hole—only to almost bump into Delphi.
