The Ravenclaw dormitory was quiet except for the faint rustle of feathers and the slow ticking of the enchanted clock on the wall. Pale blue morning light streamed through the tall windows, slicing through gauzy curtains and landing directly on Shya's face.
She groaned and burrowed deeper under her duvet.
"Talora," she muttered, voice muffled. "Close the sun."
"I can't close the sun," Talora said from the other bed, far too awake already. She'd been up for nearly an hour — hair brushed, letters read, and the neat pile of wrapped parcels arranged perfectly on Shya's desk. "Also, good morning, birthday girl."
Shya peeked out from beneath her blanket, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why do you sound so chipper? It's—" she squinted at the clock, "—unholy o'clock."
"It's nine," Talora said, cheerful. "I let you sleep in. You're welcome."
Shya flopped onto her back dramatically. "This is oppression."
Talora laughed, tossing a pillow that landed squarely on Shya's face. "Come on, get up. You have presents. Lots of them."
That did the trick. Shya sat up, hair tousled, blinking at the pile of gift boxes waiting by her desk — blue ribbons, gold seals, and even one parcel wrapped in crayon-scrawled dinosaurs.
Her sleep-fog lifted instantly. "Oh," she said softly, a grin creeping up. "Now that's acceptable."
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle, two Slytherins were making a mess in an abandoned classroom.
"Roman, that curtain's crooked," Cassian said dryly, levitating a roll of enchanted silk toward the window.
"It's called asymmetry. It's artistic," Roman replied, wand twirling lazily. "Besides, this isn't just a clubroom — it's a masterpiece."
Cassian arched a brow. "A masterpiece that's about to collapse under the weight of your snack shelf."
"I'm emotionally attached to that shelf," Roman said, flicking his wand so the lanterns above shimmered into a soft green-and-blue glow. "Anyway, the girls are probably still getting ready. We've got time."
"Not with Shya involved," Cassian said, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "She'll expect perfection."
Roman laughed. "Then perfection she shall have."
—------------
Talora immediately jumped over to the birthday girls' bed and fastened a gold Cartier bracelet around Shya's wrist; it gleamed against the girl's warm skin, a matching one glinting on her own wrist.
"Now," she said, hands on hips, "out of pajamas. You can't turn twelve looking like you've been hexed in your sleep."
Shya yawned, pushing her hair back from her face. "Talora, fashion is about timing. And right now, my timing says five more minutes."
"Five more minutes and you'll miss breakfast," Talora said, already moving to her wardrobe — all soft colours and delicate fabrics, folded with precision that screamed "parental expectations." She held up a gauzy white blouse, the kind with ribbons at the cuffs. "I'm thinking this."
Shya padded across the rug to her own half of the room, which looked more like an art studio in progress. Sketchbooks, loose ribbons, and bits of fabric spilled from a half-open trunk. She rummaged through it until she found a black denim skirt and a faded grey tee printed with a hand-painted moon.
"I'm thinking… comfortable chaos," she said, holding the pieces up. "Maybe the plaid overshirt too?"
Talora raised an eyebrow. "You look like you got dressed in an art supply cupboard."
"Exactly," Shya said proudly. "It's vision."
She tugged on a pair of soft black tights and scuffed dragon-leather boots — her favourite find from last year's Gladrags trip — then looped a few gold rings over her fingers and clasped mismatched earrings into place. Her chin-length hair fell sleek and straight, half tucked behind one ear.
"Perfect" she announced, inspecting herself in the mirror.
Talora, in contrast, floated by in a soft short lilac skirt and an embroidered cardigan with white tights and white mary janes to complete the outfit. Her wavy bob brushed her shoulders, catching the light like spun gold.
"You look like an indie record cover," she teased.
Shya smirked. "And you look like the album's deluxe-edition art booklet."
They shared an easy grin — their brand of sisterhood: sarcasm wrapped around affection.
"Ready?" Talora said, adjusting her bracelets.
"As I'll ever be," Shya replied, pocketing her wand and straightening her tee. "Let's go see what chaos the day has planned."
—-----------------
The Ravenclaw common room gleamed in its morning calm — sunlight pooling through the arched windows, glinting off bronze and blue accents. The air smelled faintly of parchment, lavender polish, and the warm sweetness of cinnamon toast drifting up from the Great Hall.
At the far end, three girls perched behind a pile of breakfast pastries like soldiers behind enemy lines.
"Okay," Lisa whispered, peeking over the stack of muffins. "They're coming."
"Act natural," Padma hissed.
"I am natural," Mandy whispered, stuffing a croissant in her mouth.
Moments later, the spiral staircase creaked. Shya appeared first, tugging at the cuff of her flannel overshirt, Talora trailing behind, radiant and grinning.
The room erupted.
"SURPRISE!"
Shya blinked, momentarily stunned, as streamers erupted overhead in a swirl of blue and silver. Lisa conjured a small puff of confetti that immediately tangled in her own hair.
"Okay, wow," Shya said, one brow arched. "Either I'm still asleep, or you lot broke into the kitchens again."
"Both," Lisa said proudly. "But we brought muffins!"
"Happy birthday!" Padma added, holding up a silver gift bag with an exaggerated flourish.
Talora laughed as Shya feigned exasperation. "You schemed," she said. "Behind my back."
"Obviously," Talora replied. "You'd have micromanaged the surprise."
"I do not—"
"You do," all three chorused at once.
Shya grinned despite herself and dropped into one of the plush armchairs. "Fine. What did you get me?"
Mandy handed her a glossy parcel. "Magical hair dye. Colour changes with your mood. And matching clips."
Lisa's gift was a gleaming box of enchanted makeup, its lid swirling like a tiny galaxy. "Courtesy of Gladrags' beauty counter. Your favourite."
Padma stepped forward, offering a beautifully bound sketchbook — its silver cover charmed to shimmer faintly in the light. "It never runs out of pages," she said. "You could draw forever."
Shya's smile softened. "Thanks, Padma. That's… perfect."
Talora leaned down, stage-whispering, "She's trying not to cry."
"Am not," Shya said quickly.
"Are too," Lisa chimed in.
They all burst out laughing, the kind of bright, ringing laughter that carried through the airy room and echoed off the blue stone walls.
While at the same time Cassian was levitating candles into place while Roman tried to charm a set of floating banners that kept spelling "Happy Bird-day."
"Roman," Cassian said flatly, "that's not—"
"I'm fixing it!"
"You're not."
Roman huffed and waved his wand again. The banners shimmered and reformed, finally displaying "Happy Birthday" — albeit slightly crooked.
"There. Character," Roman said. "Besides, they'll be too busy eating to notice."
Cassian smirked. "You mean too busy laughing at your spelling."
"Oh, hush. Just finish the candles. They're supposed to sparkle, not explode."
Cassian muttered a charm under his breath, and the candles flickered into a gentle silver light. "Done."
Roman grinned, surveying their work — silk curtains, floating lights, and a cake box sealed with gold ribbon. "I give it an eleven out of ten."
Cassian's reply was quiet but certain. "She'll love it."
"Good now we wait for the chaos to arrive" Roman laughed.
The Great Hall glowed gold that morning, sunlight streaming through the enchanted ceiling and catching on every glittering goblet and stack of toast. Laughter hummed beneath the soft scrape of cutlery — the kind of ordinary Hogwarts morning that felt like it had been waiting for this moment.
"Do you think Lockhart styles his hair with Sleekeazy's or just the tears of his enemies?" Lisa asked, examining her reflection in her spoon.
Shya, half-asleep and wholly unimpressed, mumbled, "If he even has enemies, they're probably mirrors he didn't smile at."
Talora giggled, sharp and bright. "You're insufferable before tea."
"I'm insufferable after tea too," Shya corrected, stabbing a sausage with unnecessary force. "You just get used to it."
Padma leaned over the table, her plait swaying. "You're impossible."
Shya blinked, mid-chew, her brain taking an extra second to catch up. "You can call me mission impossible."
A rustle of wings filled the hall as the owl post swooped in. One particularly large tawny owl glided down and dropped two packages in front of her — one sleek and black, one clumsily wrapped in bright red string.
"Ooh, dramatic packaging," Mandy said. "Is that from your parents or a secret admirer?"
"Same thing," Shya deadpanned, tugging at the ribbon. "They adore me. From a distance."
The black box opened to reveal a diamond-and-emerald tennis necklace that gleamed faintly even in the low light. Talora let out a low whistle. "That's stunning."
"Mm. A guilt offering in gemstone form," Shya said lightly, though her fingers lingered over the green gems before setting it aside.
The second parcel tore apart in a riot of bright wrappers, candy bars, and small bags of crisps — an avalanche of sugar. A messy, crayon-scrawled note sat on top:
Miss you, Didi! Don't forget to eat sugar! Love, Arya.
Shya snorted, but her smile was real this time. "My brother's goal in life is to make me diabetic."
Talora leaned over, mock-serious. "He's doing excellent work."
The other girls laughed, and for a moment the morning felt easy — warm toast, chatter, the gentle hum of magic overhead. Then Talora straightened suddenly, eyes alight.
"All right, birthday girl," she said, standing. "You've been fed and mildly complimented. Now, come with me."
"Why?" Shya eyed her suspiciously. "You sound like a Gryffindor trying to get me killed."
"You'll see."
Mandy waved them off. "Go on. Don't make her drag you by the hair."
Talora rolled her eyes, tugging Shya to her feet. "Exactly. You can sulk later."
The Haven was waiting—soft candlelight glowing even in the midday sun.
The moment Shya stepped in, her breath caught.
It wasn't an abandoned classroom anymore—it was alive. Silken curtains of midnight blue framed the windows, charmed lanterns drifted lazily in the air, and the ceiling shimmered with Cassian's twilight-sky charm. The carpet—deep green and enchanted to stay warm—glowed faintly in the flicker of floating candles. Roman's handiwork could be felt in the steady hum of the warmth charms, and the air smelled faintly of honey tea and cedarwood.
In the middle sat a table already laden with sweets, crisp parchment banners, and a perfectly frosted white cake gleaming under a gentle starlight charm.
"Happy birthday!"
The shout echoed as Lisa, Mandy, Padma, Cassian, and Roman stepped from behind the draped curtains. The candles flared, and the sound of laughter filled the room.
Shya blinked, startled, then smirked. "You all have way too much time on your hands."
"Correction," Talora said, looping her arm through Shya's. "We make time for the people who matter."
"Fine," Shya said, pretending to sigh. "You win."
The rest of the afternoon was a blur of laughter and crumbs. The boys handed over their gifts—Cassian's raven-shaped brooch gleamed darkly in Shya's hand, and Roman's old book on Moving Magical Art had clearly been chosen with care.
"Only the best for our local menace-slash-artist," Roman teased.
Shya arched a brow. "You're just jealous I can draw you uglier than you already are."
The magical camera was passed from hand to hand. Lisa kept snapping photos, capturing candid chaos—Shya laughing mid-eye-roll, Talora caught mid-laugh, Cassian trying not to smile, Roman with frosting on his cheek. Padma attempted to pose them like a portrait; Mandy sabotaged every one by making faces.
When Tippy popped in for the final photo, they gathered close, barefoot on the green carpet. "On three!" the elf squeaked.
The flash went off. The picture developed seconds later—seven friends frozen mid-laughter, cake half-eaten, gifts scattered, sunlight streaming through enchanted curtains. Shya's gaze was caught in the act of looking around, her expression soft—caught between disbelief and belonging.
For once, she didn't try to make a joke. She just smiled.
The girls made sure to copy the pictures for everyone — each of them slipping their copy into notebooks, sketchbooks, or robes. Soon, the camera became a constant presence; they began documenting everything — from their study sessions and dinners in the Great Hall to impromptu games in the courtyard. Hogwarts itself became their backdrop, and each captured frame told a little more of who they were becoming.