The change in the air was as crisp as the late-autumn breeze sweeping the Hogwarts grounds. It wasn't just the weather; it was a shift in the social atmosphere, and its epicenter was the Ravenclaw table at breakfast the morning after Cassian's Quidditch invitation.
Shya, usually more interested in the structural integrity of her toast than fashion, had placed her new birthday bag on the bench beside her. The Birkin, transformed by Gladrags into a mosaic of obsidian Black Dragon hide and iridescent Occamy skin, was impossible to ignore. It wasn't loud; it was a statement of such quiet, absolute power that it silenced the space around it. The morning light caught the new pink diamond studs in her ears, making them wink with every move of her head.
"Merlin's beard," Lisa Turpin breathed, her eyes wide. "Is that... what I think it is?"
"It's a bag, Lisa," Shya said, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. "It holds things. Currently, it's holding my profound disappointment in this porridge."
"But the *leather*..." Mandy Brocklehurst whispered, reaching out a tentative finger before snatching it back as if shocked.
Padma, ever the analyst, leaned in. "That's not just leather. That's Black Dragon hide. And Occamy skin. Do you have any idea how rare—"
"It's stretchless," Shya interrupted with a dismissive wave. "Very practical."
It was Talora who provided the context, her voice taking on a lecturing, almost arrogant tone that commanded attention. "In the Muggle world, a standard Birkin bag can cost more than a house. There's a years-long waiting list. You can't just buy one; you have to be *offered* the privilege. It's a symbol of global, non-magical influence." She gestured to Shya's bag. "This one, of course, has been rendered infinitely more valuable and practical by its magical customization. It's a piece of two worlds."
From a few feet away, Roman Nott's eyes, sharp with pureblood recognition, scanned the bag. A slow, appreciative smirk spread across his face. Cassian, sitting beside him, said nothing, but his gaze lingered on the way the pink diamonds sparked against Shya's skin, a stark, beautiful contrast to her usual dark, artistic aesthetic.
Hermione Granger, passing behind their table with an armful of books, couldn't help but stare. Her eyes darted from the bag to the earrings to the easy, laughing circle of girls. "That bag is terribly impractical for school," she blurted out, her voice tighter than she intended. "All those expensive materials, and it doesn't even look like it can fit a standard set of textbooks."
The table went quiet. Talora looked up from her meticulously organized schedule, her smile polite and utterly impenetrable. "It's not impractical, Granger," she said, her tone light but final. "It's aspirational. There's a difference."
The dismissal was so elegant it was brutal. Hermione's cheeks flushed a deep, mortified red. She clutched her books tighter and hurried away, the unspoken words—*you wouldn't understand*—hanging in the air behind her.
***
That night, Ravenclaw Tower was a sanctuary of blue light and soft laughter. With the boys gone, the five girls had claimed the plushest sofas by the fire, wrapped in cashmere throws and wearing their comfiest pajamas. The air smelled of sugar and the faint, magical ozone of beauty charms.
"Okay, everyone hold still," Mandy instructed, her voice giddy with excitement. She was holding a small, iridescent pot of hair dye that swirled with what looked like captured nebulas. "This is 'Starlight Strands.' My cousin sent it from Paris. It's temporary!"
One by one, she worked the dye through their hair. Lisa's mousy brown locks transformed into a cascade of violet and silver, like the heart of a galaxy. Padma's sleek black hair now held subtle streaks of deep blue and tiny, twinkling points of light, as if she'd woven a piece of the night sky into her braid.
When she got to Shya, the effect was dramatic. Her already dark bob became a void of the deepest space, with vibrant pink and purple nebulas and sharp, silver stars scattered throughout. She shook her head, making the stars shimmer. "I feel like a walking supernova. I approve."
For Talora, the golden-brown of her curls was now shot through with streaks of burning gold and copper, like a meteor shower frozen mid-fall. She examined her reflection in the back of a polished teaspoon. "Also approved but I wonder if there's more long lasting options."
Finally, Mandy did her own, her hair becoming a cheerful mix of pastel blues and pinks. They spent the next hour admiring each other, their galaxy hair shimmering in the firelight, laughing at how Professor Flitwick might react.
"Boys are like budget broomsticks," Shya declared, gesturing with a chocolate frog, her new stellar hair twinkling. "They make a lot of noise, require constant maintenance, and half the time you're just hoping they don't crash and set something on fire."
Talora nodded sagely, organizing a pile of Every Flavour Beans by colour, her meteor-shower curls bouncing. "A sound analogy, Bob. The Nimbus 2000s of the world are rare. Most are just Cleansweeps with delusions of grandeur."
"Hey!" Mandy protested, laughing, her pastel waves swaying. "I like Cleansweeps! They're reliable!"
"Exactly," Shya said, pointing a finger at her, a tiny star on her finger twinkling in sync with her hair. "Reliable. Safe. Boring. Do you want to be reliable, or do you want to fly?"
Fueled by sugar and the need for more snacks to fuel their cosmic transformation, they decided a raid on the kitchens was necessary. Sneaking out was a thrill, a chain of giggling, galaxy-haired girls tiptoeing through the torch-lit corridors, their hair leaving faint, shimmering trails in the dark.
As they rounded a corner near the kitchens, they froze. Two figures were creeping along the opposite wall, their faces illuminated by a flickering sconce. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, looking incredibly suspicious, froze mid-step. Ron was holding a wand aloft, while Harry was peering at a piece of parchment.
For a long second, the two groups just stared at each other. Ron's eyes nearly popped out of his head, darting between their magical hair and their pajamas, his ears turning brilliantly red. Harry looked utterly bewildered, as if he'd stumbled into a different, much shinier dimension.
Before anyone could speak, a third figure emerged from a shadowy alcove just behind the boys. Hermione Granger, empty-handed for once, her arms crossed against the castle's chill. She looked just as startled, her eyes wide as she took in the scene of the five radiant Ravenclaws.
The seven students stood in a stunned, silent tableau in the dark corridor.
Then, with a shared, unspoken impulse, the five Ravenclaw girls broke into a fresh wave of muffled giggles. Without a word, they linked arms, their galaxy hair creating a shimmering bridge between them, turned as one unit, and scurried off towards the kitchen entrance, leaving the Golden Trio standing there, united only in their confusion and exclusion. The sound of the girls' retreating laughter echoed behind them, a door closing firmly on a world of pastel pyjamas and starlit hair they weren't invited to share.
The girls returned to the tower victorious, arms laden with cakes and pies from the kitchens, their mission a roaring success. Later, they would all climb the stairs to their own dormitory beds, falling asleep with the comfortable feeling of being part of something unbreakable, the magic in their hair slowly fading as they dreamed.
High above, the real stars shone through the tower's domed ceiling. They weren't the only things declaring who mattered tonight. Some people glowed without needing a wand to light them, and their light was for a chosen few.