The Great Hall in the late afternoon has a different atmosphere than during meals.
The floating candles burn softer. Sunlight streams through the tall windows and stretches across the long house tables. Students scatter themselves across benches and chairs, books and parchment spread everywhere.
Some are studying.
Some are finishing homework.
Others are practicing spells quietly under their breath.
The air hums with the low murmur of dozens of conversations and the occasional crackle of magic.
At the Slytherin table, Mira sits with Draco, Theo, Blaise, and Daphne.
Books are open, quills scratching across parchment.
Though their work continues, their attention drifts toward a particularly loud corner of the hall.
At the Gryffindor table.
Specifically toward Seamus Finnigan.
Seamus is leaning over a goblet of water with intense concentration.
His wand trembles slightly as he chants with great determination:
“Eye of rabbit, harp string hum, turn this water into rum!”
Daphne pauses mid-sentence in her notes and glances over.
“He’s been trying that for fifteen minutes.”
Theo closes his book slowly.
“I heard something earlier,” he says thoughtfully. “Apparently this morning he managed to turn it into weak tea.”
Blaise snorts.
“Progress.”
Across the hall Seamus waves his wand again.
“Eye of rabbit, harp string hum—”
A loud POP interrupts him.
Then a small explosion.
Smoke puffs into the air.
When the cloud clears, Seamus is sitting in his seat with soot covering his face, his eyebrows singed slightly and his hair standing up in every direction like he has been struck by lightning.
His expression is frozen in stunned shock.
The goblet of water remains… water.
Mira tilts her head slightly as she observes the result.
“It seems like he combusts every time he performs a spell.”
Blaise nods thoughtfully.
“Yes.”
Draco smirks faintly.
“That might actually be his magical specialty.”
Several nearby students laugh quietly.
Seamus coughs out a cloud of soot.
At that moment the large doors of the Great Hall open.
Owls begin flooding inside.
The daily mail.
Students lift their heads as wings flutter overhead and envelopes begin dropping onto tables.
One owl swoops directly toward Mira.
Then another.
And another.
Three envelopes land neatly in front of her.
She brightens immediately.
“They replied!”
Draco glances over curiously as Mira eagerly gathers the letters.
The first envelope bears elegant handwriting from Nyx, her vampire hybrid brother studying at Mahoutokoro.
The second is written in strong, quick strokes from Korrin, her werewolf brother who works as an Auror.
The third envelope is much larger and slightly dusty — clearly sent from far away — from Caelum, her half-giant brother and head caretaker at the Madagascar Silverthorne Reserve.
Mira opens them carefully.
A warm smile spreads across her face as she reads.
“They’re all doing well,” she says happily.
Theo glances over. “What does Caelum say?”
“That the reserve just welcomed two injured thunderbirds and a herd of sunhorn antelopes,” Mira replies. “And he’s proud of how Hogwarts is treating the magical creatures.”
Draco nods approvingly.
“Of course he is.”
Mira folds the letters gently, clearly comforted by hearing from her family.
Not far away, another small commotion begins at the Gryffindor table.
Neville Longbottom has just received a small glass sphere from an owl.
He holds it up uncertainly, “What’s this?”
Beside him, Hermione Granger answers immediately, “That’s a Remembrall.”
Several students lean closer as she explains.
“It tells you when you’ve forgotten something. When the smoke inside turns red, it means you’ve forgotten something.”
Neville looks relieved, “That’s useful.”
He holds the Remembrall up.
The clear smoke inside suddenly turns bright red.
Neville blinks, “Oh.” He stares at it anxiously, “Well… the only problem is…” He scratches his head, “…I can’t remember what I’ve forgotten.”
Next to him, his tiny Bowtruckle Branch climbs onto the table.
Branch looks at Neville.
Then points very deliberately at Neville’s clothes.
Then points to another Gryffindor student beside him.
Then back to Neville.
Neville stares down at himself.
Then his eyes widen in horror, “My robes!” He jumps up, “I left them in the dormitory!” He groans loudly, “These stairs are impossible!”
From the Slytherin table, Mira quietly stands.
Draco watches with a faint smirk, “Off to rescue another lost cause?”
Mira simply smiles and walks over to Neville, “I can help.”
Neville looks relieved, “Really?”
“Stand still,” she says gently, “Spread your arms.”
Neville obeys.
Mira raises her wand slightly.
Without speaking a word.
A faint shimmer of magic ripples through the air.
Moments later—
Neville’s missing robes come flying through the Great Hall doors from the distant Gryffindor Tower, gliding across the hall and landing neatly in his arms.
Gasps ripple through nearby students.
Neville stares at them in amazement, “You summoned them!”
Mira nods simply.
Neville beams, “Thank you!”
“I was happy to assist,” she replies softly.
Then she turns and walks back to the Slytherin table.
As Mira returns, she notices Draco has received a newspaper.
“The Daily Prophet?” she asks.
Draco nods and slides it toward her, “Something interesting.”
Mira leans closer while Draco, Theo, Blaise, and Daphne gather around.
The headline reads:
GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN
They read the article together.
It explains that Gringotts Wizarding Bank was broken into earlier that day.
Security wards were triggered.
Goblins investigated immediately.
But according to the report—
Nothing was stolen.
The vault in question had already been emptied earlier that morning.
Daphne frowns slightly, “That doesn’t make any sense.” She taps the article thoughtfully, “Why would someone break into a bank and steal nothing?”
Mira studies the text quietly for a moment. Then she speaks, “Unless what they were looking for…” She taps the line mentioning the emptied vault, “…was already taken out before they arrived.”
Draco nods slowly, “That makes sense.”
Theo leans back in his chair thoughtfully, “So the thief was late.”
Blaise taps the vault number printed in the article, “Vault 713.” He raises an eyebrow, “I wonder what was inside it.”
Mira closes the newspaper slowly.
Her luminous teal eyes thoughtful, “Whatever it was…” She glances briefly toward the distant teachers’ table, “…it must have been valuable.”
Around them, the Great Hall continues its busy afternoon rhythm.
Students study.
Practice spells.
Laugh.
And talk.
Unaware that somewhere beyond Hogwarts walls—
Something important has just begun moving.
ns216.73.217.23da2
and then Add to home screen.