The weekend dragged on in an oddly sluggish way, the kind that felt like time itself was deliberately testing Ren's patience. The castle was quieter than usual, though the muffled chatter and occasional laughter of students drifted through the corridors like fading music. For everyone else, the weekend was a much-needed break from classes and homework. For Ren, it was just another reminder that she didn't quite fit anywhere.
She turned a corner, lost in thought, and before she could even register what happened, she crashed directly into someone--again. A sharp intake of breath followed, and Ren's eyes widened as she looked up into the unimpressed face of Professor McGonagall.
The older woman's gaze was fierce enough to make a banshee shut up. "What are you doing here, Ms. Kazuki?" she demanded, her Scottish accent slicing through the silence like a spell. "Don't you remember you have detention with me?"
Ren blinked rapidly, her brain trying to catch up. "Detention?" she echoed, her brows shooting up in disbelief.
McGonagall's lips tightened into a line so thin it could've made her an emoji. "You failed to attend my last class and used an unwanted spell on a fellow classmate," she said sharply. The way she emphasized unwanted made Ren's stomach twist.
Ren's mouth fell open. Great. So someone had told on her. Probably Peter. Dumbledore didn't seem the tattling type, he was far too annoyingly noble for that.
"I'm sorry, Professor," Ren muttered with an attempt at remorse that fooled no one, least of all McGonagall. "I didn't know."
The Professor's eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't comment on the blatant lie. "Get to my office and organize my desk, Ms. Kazuki. You'll find helpers there." With that, she turned on her heel, robes swishing dramatically as always.
Ren groaned under her breath, dragging her feet toward McGonagall's office like she was heading to her execution. When she finally arrived and pushed the door open, the sight that greeted her was almost enough to make her wish she'd just skipped Hogwarts for this year as well.
James Potter stood in the middle of the room, holding a stack of ancient, dusty books, at least eight of them, his glasses sliding precariously down his nose. He turned when he heard the door creak. "What you doing here, lass?" he asked, squinting down at her, clearly amused.
"Uh… detention," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze. Her attention shifted to the side, where Sirius Black lounged comfortably in McGonagall's chair like he was the new head of transfiguration. His smirk was already unbearable.
"Wonderful," James said cheerfully, clearly deciding she'd just made his day. Without hesitation, he dumped the entire load of books into her arms. "Put them on the shelves at the back, would ya?"
Ren staggered under the weight, nearly toppling over. The books were heavier than what a baby hippogriff would be. Huffing, she dropped them onto the nearest table with a thud and raised her wand, muttering a charm to make them fly to the shelves. Nothing happened. She frowned and tried again. Still nothing.
"Magic don't work here," Sirius said with mock pity, resting his chin on his hand. "She charmed her office so we'd actually do some real work."
Ren lowered her wand and stared at the books. "Oh," she said flatly, then glanced at James. "Then you should put them back. I was only told to organize her desk."
She dusted her hands off, abandoning the pile, and walked toward McGonagall's desk. Sirius grinned and slid out of the chair as she gestured for him to move. He joined James, who was now pretending to be busy stacking books while obviously watching her.
"What did ya do to get detention?" James asked after a minute, his voice dripping with curiosity.
Ren didn't bother looking up. "Bunked class yesterday," she said shortly, sorting a messy stack of parchment by year and score.
Sirius perked up, his grin widening. "Brilliant. What did you do?"
"Nothing."
The single word dropped like a stone in a pond. Both boys turned their heads, mock-offended.
"Total nutcase, aren't ya?" James said with a teasing grin. Ren ignored him entirely, her face blank as ever.
For the next hour, the only sounds in the room were the soft shuffling of parchment and the occasional thump of a misplaced book. James and Sirius argued over which shelf was dustier, occasional mumbled laughter, and nearly started a duel with feather dusters. Ren silently wondered how they managed to get through any class without burning something down.
Finally, the door creaked open, and Professor McGonagall swept back in. She stopped mid-stride, her eyes flicking from Ren, meticulously organizing her desk and to the two boys covered in dust, barely suppressing laughter.
"Have you forgotten your wands?" she asked dryly, her eyebrow arched so high it nearly vanished into her hat.
Ren froze mid-stack, looking from McGonagall to the snickering duo. James and Sirius were elbowing each other, barely holding it together.
"Morons," she muttered under her breath for tricking her into doing manual labor, grabbing her robe and slipping out before McGonagall could decide to extend her detention.
The moment she stepped into the corridor, the cold evening breeze hit her face. The castle was quieter now, most students already gathered in the Great Hall for dinner. The torches along the stone walls flickered lazily, their light stretching across the floor in thin, orange ribbons.
Ren shoved her hands into her robe pockets, sighing. Her fingers brushed against something rough and crinkled. Frowning, she pulled it out, a folded piece of parchment, worn around the edges as if it had been slipped in hastily.
She unfolded it slowly under the torchlight. The ink glistened faintly, the words written in a sharp, almost taunting hand.
"I know your secret."
Ren's stomach dropped. The words seemed to pulse against the paper, mocking her. She stared at them, her heart pounding so loud it drowned out the hum of the torches. Someone knew. But who?