The abandoned classroom on the third floor was nearly unrecognizable. Once a storage space for cracked desks and moth-eaten drapes, it now looked like a secret world stitched together from seven very different imaginations.
Golden afternoon light streamed through tall arched windows, catching on threads of dust and the faint shimmer of enchantments freshly cast. Cassian and Roman had been the first to arrive, hauling in several large packages that had appeared by owl that morning—long crates from the Black estate vaults and a parcel stamped Nott & Sons: Arcane Imports.
"What is all this?" Padma asked, eyeing one of the boxes as it hummed faintly.
"Decor," Roman said simply, prying one open with a flick of his wand. Inside were floating glass lanterns shaped like crescent moons, each pulsing with a faint indigo light.
"Imported from Egypt," Cassian added, unwrapping a velvet throw that shimmered like spilled starlight. "Supposedly made from charmed sand."
"Subtle," Padma muttered.
She and Talora arrived moments later, balancing their own armfuls of treasures—bolts of silk, piles of velvet cushions, jars of glittering fairy-light beads, and a vintage gramophone that Shya had found in a London antique shop. "Boho meets dark academia," Shya declared, tossing her curls over her shoulder. "You're welcome."
Lisa followed, arms full of pastel jars and a small tray of enchanted candles that flickered between gold and silver flames. Mandy brought a delicate floating quill that continuously doodled constellations on the blackboard whenever someone walked past.
They'd even enlisted help from the castle itself. A cheerful, wide-eyed house-elf named Tibby popped in and out with supplies—dusting, tidying, and occasionally clapping its hands when a spell went particularly well.
"Miss Gill, Miss Livanthos," Tibby said, bowing so low his nose nearly brushed the floor, "Tibby has polished the lanterns and fixed the table legs, yes he has!"
"You're a star, Tibby," Talora said warmly, pressing a sugared biscuit into his hand. The elf turned beet-red with delight before vanishing with a soft pop!
By the time the last curtain was hung, the transformation was complete. Silk in deep blue and emerald hues rippled over the windows, charmed to move with the rhythm of the wind. Velvet cushions, warm from Roman's charm, sprawled across the floor. Cassian's twilight enchantment turned the ceiling into a living sky, constellations slowly spinning overhead. In one corner, the repaired armchair sat proudly—its fabric patched with gold thread, a quiet testament to teamwork and mild rule-breaking.
Shya stood before the group, parchment in hand, her tone mock-grave.
"All right," she announced. "The time has come to make this official."
"Oh no," Lisa said, grinning. "She's written rules."
"Of course," Shya said, deadpan. "What's an exclusive club without a governing body?"
She unrolled the parchment with a dramatic flourish. "Rule one: No outsiders unless every single one of us agrees. Democracy, but with taste."
Roman raised an eyebrow. "So basically a stylish veto system."
"Exactly," Shya said. "Rule two: Snacks are communal, but the bringer picks first."
"Reasonable," Mandy said, already unwrapping a chocolate frog.
"Rule three," Shya continued, lowering her voice, "No one outside this room should know this place exists."
They all looked around, letting that one hang in the air for a moment—something unspoken passing between them. This wasn't just a room anymore. It was theirs.
Cassian raised his wand, and the floating lanterns dimmed into a soft, starry twilight. Roman murmured a charm, and a faint warmth rolled through the room like the sigh of a fireplace.
Padma leaned back, smiling. "So… what do we even call ourselves?"
There was a pause. Then Lisa spoke, her tone conspiratorial. "The Seven."
Shya grinned. "Simple. Classic. Mysterious."
Roman added, "Egotistical. I like it."
They sealed it with laughter—loud, genuine, echoing against the walls that had once been silent. The ceiling stars twinkled in approval.
By the time the lanterns dimmed and the warmth of evening set in, the room looked like a dream someone might try to keep forever: a secret corner of Hogwarts that hummed with belonging.
The Seven's Haven.
And not a soul outside of them would ever know.
By the time the final lantern dimmed, the castle was deep in twilight. The Seven lingered, sprawled across cushions and low chairs, surrounded by crumbs and parchment scraps, the easy hush of people who didn't want to leave just yet.
"Tomorrow," Roman said, stretching with a yawn, "we take to the skies.""Correction," Shya replied, tucking a curl behind her ear. "You take to the skies. We'll be the ones cheering and judging from the sidelines.""Supportive and critical," Talora said with a grin. "The true Ravenclaw spirit."
Cassian glanced up at the star-filled ceiling charm he'd cast earlier, the constellations slowly rotating. "We should keep it like this," he said quietly. "A place to come back to."Shya's gaze followed his, her expression softening. "We will."
They left the room together, the laughter of the last few minutes still hanging in the air like a spell. When the door clicked shut, the lanterns flared once and then settled into their steady glow, casting light over the parchment on the table.
At the top, in Shya's unmistakably sharp handwriting, it read:The Seven's Haven.Property of No One Else.
Outside, the corridors were empty, the castle sleeping around them—but somewhere high above, the first faint wind of Quidditch season whispered against the windows.