Halfway to his own room, Cassian frowned, stopping.

He turned, changed course, climbed to the fifth floor and down an unused corridor most students forgot existed.

There, at the base of a short stairwell, sat a small figure in blue and copper, legs drawn up, a wand tucked behind one ear.

Straw-blonde hair. Bare feet. Staring off into the dark.

Cassian tilted his head. “Miss Lovegood. Why are you out after curfew? Alone, at that.”

Luna smiled, as if she’d been waiting for him. “Professor, I’m wearing glasses. At worst, I’ll turn to stone. Basilisk can’t hurt me.”

He blinked. “Right. Of course. Obvious solution.”

Then he frowned. “How do you know it’s a Basilisk?”

She tilted her head. “Why, the Blibbering Humdingers blubbered.”

Cassian stared at her. Said nothing.

Eventually, he sat down beside her with a soft grunt, stretching his legs out in front.

“Do they often?”

She nodded. “Mostly on Fridays. And when people lie.”

He glanced sideways. “Right. And what have they told you about me?”

Luna gave a long, thoughtful pause. “That you are split. And you’re afraid of birthdays.”

Cassian barked a laugh. “They’ve been spying on my calendar.”

“They think you’re very afraid to speak some words,” she said, as if it were a weather update.

He looked at her properly now, brows raised. “Do they.”

She didn’t blink. “Yes. They also said you keep pretending not to care, but your magic’s too noisy.”

That shut him up for a second.

He leaned back against the stair rail. “You’re not worried, then? About the monster?”

She kicked her heels lightly against the stone. “I’m always worried. It’s how you know you care about something.”

“I used to think that too,” he said after a moment. “Still do, some days. Trouble is, worry doesn’t stop anything. Just makes the wait longer.”

She looked over. “Then what stops it?”

Cassian rested his head back, looking at the ceiling.

“Knowing where to aim.”

Luna was quiet again.

Then, “Do you think it’s a student?”

“Possibly.”

“And will you stop them?”

“If I can.”

She nodded like that was enough.

He looked down at her feet and let out a sigh. “Who’s bullying you.”

She froze.

Then her eyes dropped to her knees. “No one.”

He tilted his head toward her. “You skipped shoes because someone nicked them again, or is this a lifestyle choice?”

Her chin dipped.

Cassian didn’t buy it. “Let me tell you a story, Miss Lovegood. When I was small, I was different.”

He took a breath, shaking his head. “I’ve always felt closer to books than people. Loved reading anything I could get my hands on. History, maps, fiction with too many footnotes. All of it.”

Luna tilted her head slightly, listening without a word.

“When I started school, that showed. Didn’t mix well. Knew answers teachers hadn’t even asked yet. Some kids thought it was clever. Most didn’t. They started in with the usual stuff, whispers, nicknames, pushing.”

His fingers drummed lightly against his knee. “So I went quiet. Stopped raising my hand, stopped talking unless I had to. Thought if I made myself smaller, they’d forget I was there. They didn’t. Just gave them new material. Called me a weirdo.”

Luna was still quiet.

Cassian went on. “Didn’t last forever. Got older. Moved schools. Learned how to throw back a little. Got better at picking who to speak to. Still preferred books, though. Books don’t stare when you sit alone.”

She nodded, very slowly, like she understood all of it already.

Cassian’s voice didn’t soften. He just said, “Tell me who.”

She hesitated.

“Miss Lovegood.”

“Some girls,” she muttered. “They said I walk funny.”

He sighed through his nose, rubbing the bridge of it with two fingers. “Brilliant. What an original insult. Did they also call you ‘Loony’ and think they were clever for it?”

She looked at him, wide-eyed.

“I teach here, Luna. I hear things. Usually from Peeves.”

She gave the ghost of a smile. “He likes me.”

“He also likes flinging cauldrons at people’s heads, so let’s not use him as a character witness.”

Cassian stood up, brushed his trousers off. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

He didn’t offer a hand. Just started walking, assuming she’d follow. She did.

“I will not hex your bullies for you, Miss Lovegood. That doesn’t end well.”

She blinked at him as they turned the corner.

“I’ll speak to Flitwick and your Prefects,” he went on, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “But if you want bullying to stop, there is only one thing you can do. Fight back.”

He glanced at her. “If you want to fight back, you can always come to me. I know some obscure hexes.”

Her steps didn’t falter. “Would they hurt?”

Cassian shrugged. “A bit. Temporarily. Nothing the Hospital Wing couldn’t fix.”

Luna looked thoughtful about that. “Maybe something that makes their nose twitch.”

“Subtle,” he said. “I approve.”

They passed a tapestry of a sleeping troll knitting with sheep.

“You don’t have to be mean,” he added. “You don’t even have to be clever. You just have to let them know you’ve stopped being a soft target.”

Luna pushed her glasses up her nose. “That’s rather unkind.”

“Kindness has its place,” he said, turning down the corridor that led to Ravenclaw tower. “But not in a duel. Or a corridor ambush. Or a classroom prank war. Kindness in the wrong spot gets you tripped, hexed, or hit with a shaving charm.”

“Did you get hit with a shaving charm?”

He scratched his jaw. “Once. Lost an eyebrow for a week. Never let it happen again.”

She smiled faintly.

When they reached the base of the spiral stairs, Cassian stopped. “Now. If anyone asks what you were doing out this late—”

“I was counting the stars,” Luna said immediately.

He nodded. “Good.”

She started up the stairs, then paused, halfway up. “Professor?”

He glanced at her.

“Do you really think your magic is noisy?”

Cassian tilted his head. “What do you think?”

She considered it. “I think it crackles.”

“That sounds like a fire hazard.”

She smiled again, a little wider, then turned and disappeared up the staircase.

Cassian stood there for another beat, rubbed his face, then muttered, “Crackles,” and headed off.

***

Walking into the room, Bathsheda settled into his arms without a word. He wrapped around her by habit, chin tucked to her shoulder, nose brushing the curve of her neck.

“What are we going to do?” she sighed.

Cassian’s answer got lost somewhere between her hair and his teeth.

She leaned back to tug her sleeve up past the elbow. The skin shimmered faintly as the rune pulsed.

“Ash is awake.”

He stilled.

The warmth that had been gathering between them slipped straight out the window.

He half-wanted to ignore it and get on with the night. Fire was going, lights were low, everything in the room said “sit down and be warm.”

But the rune pulsing under her skin killed that mood fast.

“Can you speak to her?” he asked.

Bathsheda nodded. “As you said, we have a clear communication.”

Cassian gave a sharp nod. “Summon her. Had enough of it munching on your magic. Let’s see if she grew.”

Bathsheda didn’t bother with fanfare. She rolled up her sleeve, sat cross-legged on the rug, and pressed two fingers to the rune at the crook of her elbow. Her skin lit up along the edges of the mark, the gold thread of it turning dull red like embers stirred to life.

Then it appeared out of nowhere, settling into Bathsheda’s lap like an ugly, fire-coloured scaly with too many teeth and the temperament of a badly wired kettle.

Ash blinked.

Cassian blinked.

They tilted their heads at the same time.

Cassian pointed to himself. “Daddy. Recognise your Daddy well, alright?”

Ash opened her jagged little mouth and let out a stream of fire that roared straight for his face.

Cassian swore, dove sideways, elbow clipping the side-table. The flame snapped across the rug, curled past the couch arm, and vanished before it could scorch the curtains.

He stared at the scorch-mark forming on the floorboards where his shoe had just been.

“Well. She’s in a mood.”

Bathsheda was laughing. Loudly.

“She missed you.”

Cassian sat up, eyes wide. “That was not a miss. That was an execution.”

Ash hissed, smoke trickling from her nostrils.

Bathsheda reached down and scratched under what might generously be called her chin. “Seems like I can control who’s friend and who’s not.”

Cassian eyed the little demon like it might still try round two. “That’s handy.”

Ash flopped against Bathsheda’s legs, making a sound halfway between a growl and a burp.

Cassian dusted ash off his sleeve. “She’s grown.”

“About the size of a kneazle now,” Bathsheda said. “With worse manners.”

He stood, brushing his knees off, then leaned over to get a better look. Ash hissed again. He didn’t flinch this time. “You bite me again, I’m putting you in a sock drawer.”

Ash hissed louder.

“Empty sock drawer.”

That earned him a low rumble from her throat and a flick of the tail.

“Adorable,” he muttered. “If she didn’t want to kill me, that.”

“She did not,” Bathsheda corrected, still smiling. “She didn’t burn you. Not even close.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said. “I felt the heat in my teeth.”

“She only wanted to scare you.”

Cassian gave Ash a dry look. “Excellent. That makes it better.”

“What’s she eating now?”

Bathsheda gave a faint shrug. “Mostly excess energy. Ambient magic. Sometimes mine.”

Cassian frowned. “Are you?”

“I’m not trying to. But it takes when I cast something strong. Doesn’t feel draining. Yet.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s leeching. Slow or not, that’s a concern.”

Cassian met the creature’s eye. “You’re not allowed to eat your mother.”

Ash gave a noise that might’ve been agreement. Or indigestion.

Cassian sighed as Bathsheda pressed two fingers to the rune and sent Ash slithering back into her arm. The creature disappeared with a flick of flame and a hiss that sounded vaguely disappointed.

“I’m learning more of Yrsa’s runes,” she said, eyes still on the fading glow.

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