Disclaimer: I do not own any parts of the Pottermore Universe, including but not limited to: settings, characters, the mechanics of magic, etc. All of this belongs to the author of Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling, and Warner Bros. respectively. Idol characters are purely fictional and have no affiliation with the actual person and/or group.

“Dahyun, can we talk?”

Dahyun was in the Hufflepuff common room curled up on the couch with a tattered book in hand. She had just finished brewing the potion base with Momo down in the kitchens. Fig was able to convince Pickles to let the girls use the spare pantry closet for their “personal project” after a series of lies and bribes. Sure, Dahyun was now known as “Dayeon” in the kitchen to keep her identity a secret (remember, she technically was still banned from the kitchens), and the room was horribly cramped and smelled funnily of onions and vinegar, but it was worth it. She and Momo borrowed an old extra cauldron and a portable burner from the Potions classroom. They spent the entire afternoon chopping ingredients, mincing ingredients, mixing ingredients, and stirring ingredients – Dahyun’s wrists were so sore from all of the work. Fortunately, they were able to make excellent progress.

After such an exhausting day, Dahyun wanted to unwind with her favorite novel and a nice cup of tea. However, when she turned at the call of her name, she saw Sana standing with her arms folded across her chest. The pale girl swallowed nervously as she set down her book. Normally, she would be ecstatic to talk to her Housemate, but Sana’s stern expression made Dahyun uneasy.

“Uh . . . sure.”

Sana’s expression softened. “Why don’t we go for a walk?”

The Housemates strolled through the castle hallways; a tense silence pulled like a taut piece of string between Dahyun and Sana, something that Dahyun was unfamiliar with. But despite the foreign impasse amid the two girls, Sana greeted hordes of students in the corridors with her bright friendly smile as Dahyun trudged behind solemnly.

Dahyun shoved her hands in her robe pockets, keeping her head low and trying to remember if she had done anything to anger Sana. Lately she hadn’t talked much with Sana – she was too busy helping Chaeyoung and Mina with their quest – the last time she recalled speaking to the sixth-year was all the way back during the Halloween Bash (if you could even call that speaking). Perhaps Sana was upset about that?

Wait. What if . . .

Dahyun’s heart pounded in her chest. What if Sana found out that Dahyun had a crush on her? Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Was Sana going to reject her?

Finally, the two stopped in a secluded corner of the castle. The walls arched with a rich antiquity, curving high above their heads; windowpanes stretched from the floor to the ceiling as the sunlight checkered the ground in long golden rectangles. Whilst Dahyun was quite familiar with the inside of Hogwarts, she wasn’t exactly sure where they were.

Sana turned to Dahyun; her warm honey-brown eyes pooled with concern. She gently placed her hand on the fourth-year’s cheek. “Dahyun . . . are you okay? Is everything all right?”

Dahyun processed neither of Sana’s questions. The poor girl was malfunctioning. Sana’s hand was cupped against her face for goodness sake! It took all of her self-restraint to not lean into Sana’s soft touch. Dahyun’s heart screamed in her ears, and she pled internally for the sixth-year to not notice how red she was.

“Uh . . .”

“Dahyunnie?” Sana took a step closer. Danger alert! Danger alert! Dahyun desperately hoped her knees would not give out. “Tzuyu told me you’ve been acting weird lately.”

The mention of Tzuyu’s name snapped Dahyun out of her trance. “Tzuyu? You two talked about me?”

“Yes. She’s worried about you. Tzuyu said that you have been a bit . . . cold. I know that you are not usually like that. You’re just going through a rough patch, right?”

Try your best friend being involved in a Black-Market Deal for a stupid dragon, and your other best friend hanging out with your crush. ‘Rough patch’ was putting it lightly.

“I admit it has been difficult,” confessed Dahyun quietly.

“It’s okay to struggle. We all go through hard times, but none of us are alone. I’ll always be here for you, Dahyunnie – I’m sure Momoring will be too. Talk to either of us when you need to – whether it’s about school or even about Chaeyoung and Tzuyu – we will listen.”

Dahyun melted at Sana’s words: she felt the latter’s sincerity all the way down to her bones.

But she couldn’t. As much as she wanted to pour everything to Sana, she just couldn’t.

“Thank you, Sana. I really appreciate it, I do . . .” Dahyun hesitated, unsure of how to continue. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful to her Housemate.

“I understand,” Sana said, filling in the abrupt silence. “You don’t have to say anything, but if you ever do, you’ll know where to find me.”

Sana embraced Dahyun. Merlin’s beard. Sana gave the greatest hugs ever. It wasn’t that wimpy one-arm-side-hugging thing people do. This hug was a full on both-arms-wrapped-the-body-and-completely-enveloped-in-ultimate-satisfaction kind of hug. The best kind of hug, and Dahyun didn’t want to let go.

But eventually they did – much to Dahyun’s dismay.

“Can I ask one favor of you, Dahyunnie?” asked Sana.

“Of course. Anything.”

“Can you talk to Tzuyu? She really is worried about you, and I know how close you two are.”

“And you seem to be close to Tzuyu,” stated Dahyun, unable to stop the less-than-friendly tone in her voice.

Sana blinked; she regarded Dahyun with a look of confusion. “I suppose I have gotten closer to Tzuyu over the last couple of months. She didn’t tell you?”

Dahyun shook her head.

“Oh.” A frown eclipsed Sana’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Never mind. Just please talk to Tzuyu. I think she misses you.”

Part of Dahyun was conflicted: of course she missed hanging out with Tzuyu too, but ever since the Halloween Bash, Dahyun wasn’t sure how she felt about her friend. She couldn’t deny she was uneasy with Tzuyu and Sana’s blooming friendship. She tried to suppress her feelings of envy, staring at the dormitory ceiling during countless nights, wondering – worrying – if perhaps the two girls shared something a little bit more.

Dahyun reminded herself again and again it was none of her business if there was something between Tzuyu and Sana. She should feel happy for them. Who wouldn’t be ecstatic that all of their friends were getting along (really well, she might add)? Their happiness should be her happiness.

An ugly knot in her stomach tightened at such a thought. She couldn’t bring herself to scrape any morsels of joy from her aching heart. Her vision wasn’t red nor green; it was a stormy gray: sorrowful, miserable, and desperate. It hurt. That was all. Dahyun’s heart was broken before Sana even had the chance to break it.

“Dahyunnie?”

But it was Sana. Her Sana who was asking so kindly for Dahyun to reconcile with Tzuyu because she knew how important their friendship was and didn’t want them fall out for reasons unknown. She cared about both of them.

Guilt nibbled Dahyun’s heart, and the pale girl mustered all the strength she could to push aside her selfishness.

Besides, Dahyun would do anything for Sana.

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to her,” assured the fourth-year.

Sana beamed, pulling Dahyun in for one last hug. “Thank you,” the older girl whispered in Dahyun’s ear. “I knew I could count on you.”

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Dahyun was positive Sana could hear her heart ramming itself against her chest. But at that moment Dahyun did not care, she just sank deeper into Sana’s arms, wishing it would last forever.

/ / / 

They were so close, Chaeyoung could feel it.

After their epiphany, she and Mina raced back to Ravenclaw Tower. It was about one in the morning, and both girls were high on adrenaline – the rush of being one step closer in the quest surged through their bodies, overriding any exhaustion that might have weighed them down. Their footsteps rang in empty corridors as they tried (and failed) to suppress their childish giggles. Chaeyoung liked seeing Mina’s gummy smile; it was pretty, and it was way better than her frown of disapproval and disappointment. Her hand naturally found its way to Mina’s – something she had grown to like very much – threading her fingers with the prefect’s.

The common room was predictably deserted when Chaeyoung and Mina stepped through the tower door. The domed ceiling was coated with scattered gleaming stars, reflecting the actual outdoor sky. Casted off to the side was a dusty antique telescope, humble in size and shape; its thin body was painted a muted shade of navy blue with bronze finishing. The tripod stand was no more impressive, mediocre at best, with its rusting silver legs and joints looking as if they would collapse at any moment.

“Whoa. This thing is ancient,” said Chaeyoung, poking the telescope with curious fingers.

“Be careful with that, Chaeng,” scolded Mina, “that could be hundreds of years old.”

Chaeyoung grinned when Mina said her childhood nickname. Dahyun had bestowed Chaeng to her when they were children (the name Chaeyoung being far too much for a young Dahyun’s intellect and verbal ability), but the name sounded completely different coming from Mina’s lips. When Mina said Chaeng, it left a warm and ticklish feeling inside Chaeyoung’s chest.

“Well, I would be doing everyone a favor; we could finally get a new one.” Chaeyoung bent down and peeked through the eyepiece. The image was horrible – she was barely able to discern anything – the fake stars above were just a blurry mess. “This thing is rubbish.”

“We need that particular telescope though. It has the mark, see?” Mina pointed to the side of the telescope tube where Eads’s mark was carved.

Chaeyoung scrunched her nose. “Of course it does,” she muttered underneath her breath.

“At least this means we’re on the right track,” continued Mina. “We’ll need to set the dome to a specific time and date when Aquila is visible in our own sky.” The Ravenclaw prefect sifted through her astronomical charts, mumbling to herself about all sorts of sciencey and mathematical talk that Chaeyoung did not understand nor did she care about. Letting out a dramatic sigh, Chaeyoung proceeded to play with the telescope a little more whilst Mina worked. She lifted the telescope from its stand and held it up like a pirate.

“Ahoy, Matey! We’re out ’ere to find us some booty! Aaaarr! What does me little spyglass see?” Chaeyoung turned the telescope to directly face Mina, inching closer until the lens was pressed against the prefect’s skin. “Shiver me timbers! It’s Calypso!”

“Chaeyoung, what are you doing?”

“Ah! She talks! Do not be deceived, lads and lasses! Be careful to not fall under her spell!”

Mina snatched the telescope from Chaeyoung and glared at her. “Quit messing around and focus on the quest. Here, set the dome to this date,” snapped Mina, ing a piece of parchment into the younger girl’s hands.

“Aye aye,” grumbled Chaeyoung. As Mina went to put the telescope back on the stand, her back to Chaeyoung, the third-year stuck out her tongue. “Fun-er.”

Chaeyoung fished out her wand from her uniform pocket, squinting at Mina’s perfect cursive handwriting on the parchment she received. September 28^th of this year, midnight. Obediently, Chaeyoung changed the dome as Mina requested – using a quick spell that all Ravenclaw students learned at the start of their first year in order to manipulate the simulated sky.

Both girls stared in awe as the sky shifted in a blur of white and silver. Stars rearranged themselves like pieces on a chess board, precise and calculated. Once the ceiling settled, Chaeyoung searched for anything that remotely looked like an eagle, but the stars were paint splatter. You would think that she’d be interested in constellations since it was just bigger version of connect-the-dots and required a lot of imagination to make the images come to life. But no. Where was the fun if Chaeyoung had to follow some rules old people made centuries ago? Now, if she could recreate the constellations – Chaeyoung would love that.

“Aquila is over there,” said Mina, pointing to the southwest section of the dome. “See how the stars form the wings and tail?”

What? Chaeyoung narrowed her eyes, trying to decipher where Mina’s finger indicated. She only found random specks. What a surprise.

“Its brightest star, Altair, which is part of the Summer Triangle – if you look over –”

“Geek!” Chaeyoung coughed. “Really big geek.”

Mina placed her hands on her hips with a scowl, unamused. “Are you done yet?”

Chaeyoung tilted her head and folded her hands together in an innocent manner. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Minari.” She batted her eyelashes for good measure.

“I honestly don’t know how I deal with you.” The prefect massaged her temples – a sight Chaeyoung was not unfamiliar with (how many times had she seen her mother make the same face?).

“The real question is: what would do without me? I bring so much fun to your life.” Chaeyoung flashed Mina her signature dimpled smile.

Mina just ignored Chaeyoung. “Go grab the telescope,” she ordered the younger girl. Chaeyoung grudgingly dragged the telescope over, exaggerating her pout so the prefect knew how much Chaeyoung did not like being told what to do.

Chaeyoung watched as Mina fiddled with the telescope: the prefect meticulously repositioned it a hair to the left and then to the right, aligning it directly with the constellation; she took her sweet time, trying to find the perfect spot. Her brows scrunched together and eyes were as dark as a well of black ink. Her top incisors dug into her lower lip with such heavy concentration that Chaeyoung thought Mina was going to draw blood. The older girl moved with flawless grace; each step, each placement of the hand, each tilt of the head was carried with a breathtaking lyricism no matter how grand or small. It was mesmerizing.

“Chaeng, take a look through the telescope,” said Mina as she tapped the younger girl on the shoulder.

Chaeyoung obliged, once again bending down and peering through the eyepiece. The image was still hazy, but this time a red glow shone on the paneling around the dome’s circumference: naturally with Eads’s mark.

“Midnight reveals the buried key in its place,” she murmured. Chaeyoung exchanged a smile with Mina. They did it. They solved the fourth clue.

Chaeyoung fetched one of the common room ladders (used for their small library), rolling it to where the telescope pointed. Under Mina’s direction, Chaeyoung was able to locate the exact spot of the mark; her own mark, the one on her wrist, seared with a burning pain – just like when the mysterious tunnel opened up during her mission to rescue Mina. She yelped in surprise when the panel suddenly opened up. Inside laid a large piece of parchment folded neatly in a square.

“Mina! Mina! The next clue!” Chaeyoung shouted, completely forgetting that everyone else in Ravenclaw tower was asleep. She snatched the paper and impatiently jumped off the ladder.

“Chaeyoung, keep your voice down!” Mina chided, but Chaeyoung caught the slight quirk of her lips. The two had a brief, friendly embrace, before parting and inspecting the new clue.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to see because it was blank.

Chaeyoung scowled, flipping the parchment back and forth several times, checking to see if there was anything on it. Nope. Completely blank. “Uhhhh . . . I don’t get it.”

“I think this goes back to the previous clue. Jeongyeon said that she, Momo, and Dahyun were brewing some sort of visibility potion. I bet that the next clue is written in invisible ink and we need the potion to expose it,” Mina speculated.

“Why can’t we just use a spell?” Chaeyoung took her wand and tapped the paper in her hand. “Aparecium.” Nothing happened. “Damnit.” What was the point of magic if it didn’t work?

“We’ll have to meet up with the others later and see how far along they are with the potion. Jeongyeon did say they were almost done so I hope we can proceed with this quickly.”

Ideally, Chaeyoung wanted to move on with the new clue now – and she suspected Mina did as well – but nooooo, this stupid quest was making them do more work.

“Hey, why the face?” asked Mina, seeing Chaeyoung’s disgruntled frown. “At least we’re one step closer to your dragon, right?”

Chaeyoung perked up at the word dragon. That’s right! Her dragon! Her beloved dragon! “Now that you mention it, Minari,” Chaeyoung whipped out the drakoscope that she always kept with her (sometimes she would stare at it during her lessons instead of listening to the teacher; it was much more fascinating that whatever the professors had to say), “behold! Our beauty!”

Mina raised an eyebrow. “Our . . . beauty?” she echoed with reluctance.

“Duh. You and I are soon-to-be dragon parents. Speaking of which, we haven’t thought of a name yet. I made a list of some: Thunder, Fang, Night, and Shadow – I’m particularly fond of Onyx. I’m thinking something fierce, dangerous, mysterious, and definitely – definitely – cool.”

Mina did not seem as enthused as Chaeyoung: her gaze avoidant and she was rubbing her arm timidly. “Chaeyoung, I . . . .”

“Yeah . . . now that I said those names out loud, they’re awfully generic, aren’t they? I guess it’s back to the drawing board.” Chaeyoung rubbed her chin thoughtfully, not noticing the growing crease of Mina’s brow or the downward turn of the mouth. “Hmmm . . . Since you’ve been such a big help, I’ll let you have some say. It just can’t be anything lame . . . or geeky.”

“Chaeng, h-hold on . . .”

“You can forget about that stupid Ministry job you want – this is way cooler – I can’t believe you actually want to work for the government – talk about booooring. What a snooze. Being a dragon rider and tamer will be a hundred times better. Imagine when our dragon grows up, we can fly around the Highlands and go to incredible heights and –”

“Son Chaeyoung!”

Chaeyoung immediately clamped shut. Mina was staring at the young girl now veiled in hurt and anger. This confused Chaeyoung. Why did Mina appear so displeased? Why wasn’t she excited about the dragon? They were in this whole quest together, weren’t they? Sure, maybe the prefect hadn’t been too keen on getting an overgrown fire-breathing lizard at first, and maybe Mina had been blackmailed with her life to participate in Eads’s task, but those were insignificant details. Chaeyoung figured that over these past two months, Mina was warming up to the idea of owning a dragon. (I mean, c’mon, who doesn’t want to a dragon?) In all honesty, Chaeyoung was looking forward to co-parenting with Mina, she was ready to be the fun mom of the two. (Let’s be real, one of them had to be the responsible, boring one and it wasn’t going to be Chaeyoung!)

Mina closed her eyes for a very long time, taking in deep breaths and exhaling slowly. Finally, she opened her eyes. “We need sleep.” Her voice was brisk which confused Chaeyoung even more. Nowadays, even when Mina reprimanded Chaeyoung, it was tender and lighthearted; here, Mina sounded genuinely upset.

Before Chaeyoung could ask her Housemate what was wrong though, Mina was already climbing up the dormitory stairs, the blank piece of parchment clenched tightly in her right hand. As Mina disappeared, Chaeyoung was left alone, standing nonplussed with silver stars shimmering in the fabricated night sky above.

/ / /

Jeongyeon was bothered. Ever since her run-in with Nayeon in Professor Lee’s office, the older girl’s murderous glare haunted her mind. Whenever she shut her eyes at night, she was consumed by guilt and fear. Why did Nayeon need liquid moonlight? She couldn’t possibly be making the same potion, right? That would be absurd . . . then again, not a lot of recipes called for such a rare and unique ingredient.

But no matter how crazy the reason or excuse Jeongyeon came up with, her gut told her that Nayeon was up to no good.

“Jeongyeon, the potion is ready for the final ingredients,” said Momo, poking the Gryffindor Captain in the arm.

“Er, sorry. Right. Okay.”

All five girls were gathered around a medium-sized cauldron over a mini fire filled to the brim with a bubbly champagne pink liquid. Mina and Chaeyoung had informed Jeongyeon, Momo, and Dahyun that they had uncovered the next clue but were unable to carry on until the potion was finished. The group agreed that during their free period, they would all convene in the kitchens and finalize the potion.

Jeongyeon pulled out her sack and took out each ingredient she collected, her thoughts of Nayeon pushed to the side for now. She did what she had to do.

“Stir the pot counterclockwise as you grind the griffin’s tongue against a shredder,” Momo read out loud as Dahyun unenthusiastically began to scrape a long rubbery object against a metal cheese grater, and Chaeyoung stirred a wooden spoon to the left. The potion gradually turned into a gooey black tar, making it harder and harder to mix.

“Do I have to keep stirring? My arms are getting tired,” Chaeyoung complained.

“It says here we have to use the whole tongue,” replied Momo. “Here, Chaeyoung, hand me the ladle. I can do it.”

“No,” Mina cut in forcefully, “there’s no need, Momo. Chaeyoung can do the work herself. After all, this is for her dragon.”

A stunned silence passed around the other girls; Jeongyeon and Momo exchanged a bewildered glance and Dahyun mouthed to her friend what did you do? Chaeyoung jutted her lip out in a pout like a child who was stripped of her favorite toy. She said nothing.

The old tension between Mina and Chaeyoung had crept back in. Jeongyeon wondered what possibly could’ve happened. Earlier this month, Chaeyoung had been fretting over finding Mina, and as of recent, they were holding hands and laughing like they were best mates. What the hell happened? Jeongyeon suspected that Chaeyoung was probably the culprit and did or said something unknowingly insensitive to the prefect. She made a mental note to ask the kid about it later.

“Okay, I think we’re ready for the last piece: the liquid moonlight,” declared Momo after several minutes of grating, cutting, smashing, and stirring the ingredients from Professor Lee’s private stash. Chaeyoung and Dahyun collapsed in exhaustion, both caressing their wrists. “Jeongyeon, want to do the honors?”

The Gryffindor Keeper nodded and held the tiny glass vial in her hand.

“That’s it?” Chaeyoung asked, still a bit grumpy.

“It’s so pretty,” Dahyun remarked.

“According to the recipe, we’ll need the entire bottle. Every single drop counts,” Momo informed the others. She lowered the heat on the cauldron and took out the ladle, placing it on a towel – black sticky goo clung to the wood like mold. “Once Jeongyeon pours it in, we have to wait five minutes and then we’re finished.”

Jeongyeon uncapped the vial and slowly poured in the shimmering silver liquid. As the moonlight hit the potion, it immediately began to sizzle. The tar transformed into a molten silver. Gelatinous bubbles surfaced to the top, bursting with a fattening gloop sound. Jeongyeon continued to pour. Soon a hot vapor steamed from the pot filling the whole room. The girls jumped back in surprise, coughing.

“Is it supposed to do this?” Mina cried out, staggering backwards as she covered her face with one arm. Dahyun and Momo were on the ground, huddled together, gasping and wheezing. Jeongyeon shielded Chaeyoung with her body as the younger girl clung to Jeongyeon’s uniform. The air was acidic and putrid; it stung Jeongyeon’s eyes, causing them to redden and tear, and became parched, making it painful to cough.

For five minutes, the girls endured the fog. At one point, Dahyun had moved to open the small room’s door for fresh air, but Jeongyeon stopped her. They couldn’t let this rancid steam seep out into the kitchen area and endanger everyone else. And so they sustained the fumes. By the time the five minutes were up, almost all of the girls were sprawled on the floor. Jeongyeon was pretty sure Dahyun had passed out, and Momo had her head bent like she was going to vomit; Mina was sitting with her back against the far wall, her chest heaved up and down in a rapid motion as if she could not get oxygen into her lungs fast enough. The Gryffindor Captain herself was on her knees, hugging Chaeyoung who was curled up in a ball.

The bubbling within the cauldron died down to singular pop. The smoke evaporated in the blink of eye as if it hadn’t been there at all. Jeongyeon took a huge gulp of clean, fresh air to soothe her airways. The potion was completely different. Unlike the viscous silver lava it was before, the potion was now a clear, runny liquid.

“I guess this is it,” said Jeongyeon, standing up. She helped Chaeyoung to her feet (still wobbly at the knees) and then Mina. Momo cradled Dahyun in her lap – the latter slowly regaining conscious – and watched the cauldron precariously as if she was expecting it to burst into flames. “Potion is done.”

“Merlin’s beard, I hope this works,” Mina mumbled to herself; she pulled out the blank sheet of parchment from her pocket, unfolding it gently.

“Whab arb weeb subbosed to do? Drwink it?” Chaeyoung’s voice was sluggish and slurred. The poor kid looked like she had just woken up from a nightmare. Her face was stark white, hair in a tangled mess, and she was rubbing her eyes which were bloodshot and puffy. She leaned on Jeongyeon for stabilization, slightly wavering. Chaeyoung cleared and repeated her question. “What are we supposed to do? Drink it?”

“No. Not after all that. There’s no bloody way any of us are putting that potion in our mouths – no matter how tempting it may appear.” Jeongyeon glared Chaeyoung, giving her the special message of don’t you even DARE. “We’ll pour a little of it on the clue – if something happens, then we’ll pour a little more.”

“And if nothing happens?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” said Jeongyeon. She grabbed the wooden ladle and scooped up a tiny bit; the potion glistened a rainbow sheen in the low light. Carefully, she poured. The liquid infused with the aged yellow paper, bringing everything to life: red lines surfaced like the unravelling of a labyrinth. Jeongyeon’s gaze followed the twist and turns of each line bleeding into another. Thick and thin; long and short; straight and curved. The lines danced across the sheet until the very last drops of the potion were gone.

“It looks like a map,” breathed Mina as an architectural skeleton was revealed. It was Hogwarts castle. Familiar rooms and corridors and staircases fanned from corner to corner, even the outside school grounds were shown. Jeongyeon chuckled in amazement as her eyes travelled across the exquisite details.

On the bottom right corner, in scratchy handwriting was the fifth riddle.

Your broken promise comprised of lies

Ordains your legacy’s forthcoming demise

At the center of the universe, in side remains

My final treasure you so wish to claim

Spaces and numbers tell my last closing breath

Atone for your sins as my soul awaits rest

No one said anything for a long time. No one looked at each other. No one moved as if the moment was too fragile.

Jeongyeon’s thoughts processed the words, attempting to fashion some sort of sense with them. Although the riddle was as confusing as the others, this one in particular seemed agonizingly cryptic and very disturbing.

Finally, Chaeyoung shattered the silence; her body trembled like she was holding back as much as she could from actually bouncing off the walls. “My final treasure . . . you know what this means, right? We did it.” Chaeyoung’s voice was barely a whisper – quieter than what Jeongyeon thought the kid was capable of – but it was steeped with exhilaration. Slowly the fire within her grew.

“We . . . DID IT! WE DID IT! WE DID IT! WE’RE GOING TO GET MY DRAGON!” Chaeyoung chanted at the top of her lungs. The young girl danced happily around the room. “Dubs! Jeong! Momo! Minari! We reached the final clue!”

The celebration was cut short when Mina placed a hand on the buzzing Chaeyoung to hold her still. “And need I remind you there still is one more clue that we need to get through before we can rejoice completely.” Mina, too, brimmed with anticipation though hers was more apprehensive; she contained her joy to a simple smile. (Jeongyeon noted that it did not reach her eyes.) “We must remain focused: we still have time before December’s new moon, but we cannot be wasteful about it.”

“Mina is correct,” Jeongyeon agreed. “The sooner we can finish the quest in its entirety, the better. We don’t know what this last clue holds either; it could be a dangerous one.” Before the Gryffindor Captain could add anything else, the clock tower chimed indicating that the free period was over. “Let’s pick this up later, but for now, we did good work today, team.”

The girls cleaned and packed their materials; Mina, Dahyun, and Momo took the cauldron and utensils into the kitchen to be washed, meanwhile Jeongyeon and Chaeyoung stayed in the pantry, the former scrubbing and sweeping the floor. It wasn’t that the closet was necessarily messy, but Jeongyeon felt the need to tidy it up – especially since the house elves were generous enough to let them use the room in private.

“What’s going on between you and Mina? What did you do?” Jeongyeon asked as waved her wand around, using the Scouring Charm to wipe down the floor.

“What do you mean? I didn’t do anything.” Chaeyoung was studying the map, holding it up to her face as if she were reading the newspaper. She glanced up, her round eyes peering over the edge of the parchment, a single eyebrow raised.

“Then why was Mina scolding you earlier?”

“If you haven’t noticed, Jeong, Mina scolds me all of the time.” Chaeyoung said this in a matter-of-fact tone, rolling her eyes playfully. “She is a prefect after all.”

Jeongyeon doubted that kid was innocent, but she let it go. Clearly, Chaeyoung wasn’t cognizant of Mina’s change in mood and asking her about it would be futile. Still, Jeongyeon worried. Chaeyoung and Mina had been making good progress; the prefect proven to be a great Housemate to the younger girl, something that Chaeyoung had badly needed. There was a new shade of confidence – though not realized to its full capacity – that radiated from Chaeyoung.

The other three girls returned, their faces full of color and smiles, unlike earlier when everyone looked like they were kissing death. Mina took off in a hurry to attend her next lesson, and Momo went to a revision group meeting in the library; Jeongyeon had a private Quidditch practice with her Chasers to work on some new strategies whilst Dahyun and Chaeyoung were left to their own devices.

“I trust that you two won’t get into any sort of trouble, right?” Jeongyeon asked as they hiked up the stairs from the kitchen corridor.

“Actually, there’s something personal I need to do,” Dahyun said quietly, avoiding the questioning glances from Jeongyeon and Chaeyoung.

Chaeyoung snorted. “What? Like snogging Minatozaki?”

Jeongyeon had never seen Dahyun’s face turn so red. The fourth-year looked like a heated tomato: her expression hardened and she glowered at Chaeyoung. “N-no. I was going to talk to Tzuyu!”

“Oh. Really?” Chaeyoung cocked her head. “I haven’t seen Tzuyu in a long time, can I go with –”

“No.” Dahyun stopped the third-year. “This is something I need to do. Alone.” The pale girl hurriedly stomped away, mumbling about how she might find the Slytherin girl (“Perhaps Fig can lend me that strange compass thingy?”). Jeongyeon and Chaeyoung were left in her dust.

“Well, that was . . . odd.” Jeongyeon scratched the back of her neck. “Is Dahyun okay?”

Chaeyoung shrugged. “Who knows? Hormonal teenagers these days, am I right?”

Jeongyeon sighed. “Just stay out of trouble, yeah?”

The small third-year scoffed. “I’m not making any promises – ” Jeongyeon sent a hard glare in Chaeyoung’s direction. “– All right, fine. I won’t get into any trouble. Sheesh, mum.” Chaeyoung’s face twisted in sarcasm as she emphasized Jeongyeon being her mother.

“Good kid,” approved Jeongyeon, patting Chaeyoung on the head. “Good, kid.”

/ / /

Sana had been on Tzuyu’s mind lately. Like a lot. It was a growing concern for the third-year because she couldn’t exactly pinpoint why Sana was occupying her thoughts; she should’ve been focusing on her classes, not daydreaming about her frequent outings with the older girl. Even her much anticipated return to Quidditch was delayed for another week after she requested additional time off from Jungkook. (She did not inform him it was due to her Sana-plagued brain, rather she gave a vague excuse that mentally she was not yet ready. Not a complete lie.)

It consumed Tzuyu – not in an unhealthy way – but in a way where her heart throbbed in the middle of the night, aching with thrill and fear of these uncharted waters she was drifting towards.

Even now, Tzuyu sat in the library with her idle thoughts wandering about (entirely on Sana, her own breathing reverie). Her schoolwork surrounded her in towers, serving as both a wall of privacy and a daunting reminder that she should – must, if you will – wipe away her distractions in order to concentrate on academics. Not Minatozaki Sana.

She sighed.

She picked up a nearby book: Dangerous Creatures Everyone Must be Careful Around. Right. She had an essay due in two days for her Care for Magical Beasts class. She hadn’t started on it at all (vaguely remembering the prompt itself. Most likely it had something to do with writing the precautions one must take around hazardous beasts, but Tzuyu wasn’t exactly sure).

Tzuyu mindlessly flipped through her textbook, skimming the pages with mild interest at the intricate illustrations inked on the pale pages; her eyes barely touched the text, focused only on the bold black lettering of each creature’s name. Although she liked animals, magical beasts were more of Chaeyoung’s forte. Tzuyu preferred mundane creatures: ones she could cuddled without worrying about losing a limb or having all of her hair singed off.

Page after page, Tzuyu whipped through each section of the alphabet monotonously as minutes ticked by. (When she saw the dragon section, she briefly remembered Chaeyoung’s ridiculous plan to get one. She wondered if her friend had given up on such a silly dream. There was no way Chaeyoung could possibly get a dragon, much less tame it.) As she neared the end of the book, something caught her eye: categorized neatly in the V section was a whole chapter on the veela. Why would the veela be part of a book on dangerous creatures? she wondered. Tzuyu read on:

Veela

The veela are semi-human beings whose origins began with nature nymphs, dwelling in the depths of the forests, lakes, and mountains. They appear as incredibly youthful and beautiful women, but beware of the ugly truth that lives underneath. With their hypnotic powers – notably in the way they move, sing, and dance – the veela can make even the strongest of men their victims, belittling humans to nothing more than a play toy. Their tempers are unruly and violent, showing their true colors: behind the façade of impeccable beauty lies a horrific creature. When angry (which can happen quite often), a veela will morph into a bird-like monster, adorned with a hooked beak and scaly wings. Be careful for they can even shoot fireballs from their hands. 

Now although the veela have supposedly come to live in harmony with humans (and by this, I mean actual full-blooded humans and not the odd “humanoid-esque” frauds that walk among us), one cannot trust a veela no more than he can trust a kelpie or a siren. They hold little tolerance for anything and react with theatrical dramatics that then often lead to a man’s death. They are merciless beings. Beauty with the heart of a monster. Deceitful fiends that are terribly irascible. 

Enormously dangerous. Avoid at all costs. Note that veela blood runs deep and strong – despite generational gaps; I warn everyone to never interact with a living thing that carries veela blood within their veins if he so cherishes his own life.

Tzuyu’s face pinched together; she furiously studied the text, reading each and every word with disgusted precision. The ugliness of the author’s prejudice bled through the page: the chapter erted the veela into temperamental monsters! Deceitful monsters? Terribly irascible? What rubbish.

Fury rose in Tzuyu’s chest. She began to understand why Sana did not want to tell anyone about her veela heritage.

Repulsed, Tzuyu slammed the book cover shut and pushed it aside. That was enough productivity for one day. She glanced up to see Sana strolling towards her, uniform perfectly ironed and a large picnic basket at hand. Tzuyu’s mood instantly lifted (the text now long forgotten).

“What are you doing here?” Tzuyu asked, trying to keep the smile on her face from being so obvious.

“I was looking for you. Are you free?”

The pile of textbooks and unwritten essays were screaming no, but Tzuyu ignored their calls. “Absolutely,” she replied with conviction.

Sana grinned. “Come with me then.” She stretched out her hand, and without a moment of hesitation, Tzuyu grabbed it, following Sana eagerly.

The sixth-year weaved through the castle with confident strides, leading Tzuyu right and left, up and down, delving to parts of the school Tzuyu didn’t even know existed. She asked Sana where they were going, but the older girl only replied with a coy smile; she told Tzuyu she did not want to ruin the surprise.

Surprise? Tzuyu eyed the basket in Sana’s hand warily. She wasn’t against surprises, but the last time she endured one, it was when Dahyun and Chaeyoung had a prank war and somehow she was roped into it. Tzuyu hoped that whatever Sana had planned, it didn’t involve her getting a face full of spaghetti.

Sana guided Tzuyu up a spiral flight of stairs, coiled tightly in a single tower with sparse windows unevenly spaced out. The view below held the fading remnants of autumn, for winter had not yet made its presence. But it wasn’t dreary and lifeless as one may think: the crisp shades of brown brought its own vigor to the landscape that was quieter and matte, its beauty like a secret passed down through whispers. To the south was the Great Lake settled in a valley of mountains; the black water ominous and foreboding which sent a chill down Tzuyu’s spine.

When the girls emerged at the top, a thick breath of humid air lazily rolled in; a flush of goosebumps ran across Tzuyu’s arms at the sudden temperature change. Rich floral scents permeated the air grounded by the rich, musky smell of the earth and fertilizer. The greenhouse was copiously filled with flowers of all shapes, colors, and sizes like hand-polished jewels on display. Unlike a regular greenhouse, it was a jungle: the plants stormed the floor and walls without any pots or fencing or other restrictions.

Tzuyu recognized some flowers, the common ones: peonies, daisies, tulips, chrysanthemums, and of course, the rose – each a tessera of extraordinarily vivid hues, as if an artist had come and personally painted each and every petal with their own special palette. There were others that Tzuyu was not familiar with. As Sana led her to the heart of the garden, Tzuyu’s fingers brushed against the saffron-tinted petals of a star-shaped flower; instantaneously a long pink tongue shot out and her. Tzuyu recoiled her hand, raising an eyebrow at Sana.

“Don’t worry. It won’t bite,” Sana giggled, “none of the plants here are dangerous.”

“Where exactly are we?”

“The greenhouse tower, courtesy of the gardening club.”

Tzuyu didn’t even realize that Hogwarts had a gardening club. “Are you a member?” she asked. The girls arrived at a large circular opening embellished with colorful flagstones surfacing the ground and benches placed around the perimeter. In the center was a large fountain standing tall with a three-tiered chalice spouting water from the top; it rained down in iridescent sheets, falling steadily into the basin. There was no canopy overhead, only the glass ceiling exposing the fading sunlight – a sign that dusk was soon approaching.

Sana sat at the base of the fountain, gently setting her basket next to her. “No, I just have some very generous friends,” she replied with a smile. She gestured for Tzuyu to sit down. “We spend all of our time in the abandoned greenhouses on the school grounds, I thought we could change it up a bit. I already checked on Gucci and he was sound asleep in his bed; I did refill his food dish in case he wakes up hungry and gave him fresh water as well.”

“Thank you, Sana,” Tzuyu said. It felt silly that Tzuyu had once kept her secret all to herself; now that Sana was here by her side, a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Tzuyu wondered if Sana felt the same about her own secret.

“Now! I didn’t come here empty-handed. There’s still a few hours until supper so I suppose this won’t spoil our appetite, but . . .” Sana opened up her basket and laid out a red plaid blanket on the stone fountain finishing. Tzuyu’s eyes widened in delight as Sana slowly pulled out several pastries. Croissants, tarts, honey-glazed rolls, shortcakes and sponge cakes; the vast array of desserts made Tzuyu’s mouth water. Her eyes studied the perfectly golden crusts, the white fluffy cream, and the ruby-tinged jam. The alluring, delectable scent informed her that these were freshly made – some straight out of the oven. There were very few things in Tzuyu’s life that could make her heart soar: Gucci, her friends and family, playing (and winning) Quidditch . . . and pastries.

“Do you like them? Sorry, I know it’s not typical for afternoon tea –”

“What? No! Sana, this is so amazing!” Tzuyu exclaimed, perplexed as to why Sana would apologize. “I-I mean . . . it’s nice – really nice – I . . . wow. T-thank you . . . Absolutely . . . ” A faint blush tinted her cheeks.

Sana didn’t say anything, handing Tzuyu a pastry instead. Tzuyu accepted the dessert graciously; it was a small cake slice with powder-pink frosting and a pink candied rose on top. As she took a bit, a burst of flavor melted on her tongue. The creamy filling wasn’t too sweet and the airy texture of the cake was just right. Within seconds, Tzuyu ravenously gobbled up the cake.

“Must be pretty delicious,” said Sana as she reached out and wiped away frosting from the corner of Tzuyu’s lips with a napkin.

The Slytherin’s face turned redder, embarrassed. How ridiculous she must’ve seemed to greedily eat the cake in a few bites.

“It’s okay. I’m not judging. When you live with Momo for six years, it’s hard to be surprised with anyone else’s eating habits – that girl eats a lot.”

Tzuyu and Sana tucked in to the rest of the pastries. The older girl also brought out a thermos filled with hot tea and small cups along with containers of milk, cream, and sugar. It was a complete picnic. The girls chatted and enjoyed each other’s company into the late afternoon.

There was something about Sana that made Tzuyu be at ease: she couldn’t exactly place her finger on it, but the feeling was different than when she hung out with Dahyun or Chaeyoung. She smiled often when she was with Sana – something she had not originally expected – and the older girl had a lot of fascinating thoughts, finding conversation in anything and everything. Most of the time when someone ran their mouth dry, Tzuyu found it tedious and almost unbearable, every single topic whittled down to Tzuyu’s last shred of patience. However, Sana kept their talks animated and engaging.

Tzuyu watched as Sana rambled on about the different types of plants in the greenhouse, describing in detail the specific caretaking methods and seasonal conditions necessary of optimal blossoms. (She explained that thanks to magic many of the flowers within the greenhouse were able to grow at the same time and consistently throughout the year; this was why one could see an amaryllis in full blossom at the same time as a zinnia – Tzuyu didn’t really know what either looked like, but took Sana’s word for it.) Truthfully, Tzuyu was only giving Sana half of her attention, the other half was spellbound by the impassioned gleam in Sana’s eyes.

“So is gardening a hobby of yours? You seem to know a lot about it,” said Tzuyu, trying her best not to stare too much at the Hufflepuff.

That sad smile returned to Sana’s lips, and Tzuyu mentally cursed.

“You don’t have to tell me! If it’s private, I don’t want to impose,” the third-year retracted hastily.

“You’re adorable,” said Sana with a soft laugh. She grabbed Tzuyu’s hands to calm the girl down. “It’s okay; gardening just reminds me of my grandmother. Back at home, our yard is filled with gorgeous flowers not unlike this one here. As a kid, I would help my grandmother tend to the garden, learning the ins and outs of it. I wasn’t particularly good at gardening – the number of plants I have accidentally killed is quite high – but I liked it nonetheless.

“However, it’s been a long time since I last utilized my green thumb. A few years ago, my grandmother fell severely ill; she can no longer do what she loves, and every time I step inside a garden, I am overwhelmed with conflicting feelings. It pains me that I am here and she is not – she cannot – since she is bedridden in a plain hospital room. I have tried many times to bring the garden she loves so much to her, but it is not the same. It is different seeing flowers bound to a vase instead of seeing them grow naturally. To grow free.

“Truthfully, I feel quite selfish: I have the liberty to come here to the greenhouses and surround myself by plants from all over the world. I can indulge in something my grandmother once loved whenever I want – it is a privilege I believe I do not deserve.”

Tzuyu remained mum, unsure of what to say; she could only offer a consolatory squeeze of the hand, hoping that the simple gesture could convey everything left unsaid.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to dishearten the mood.” Tears brimmed at the corner of Sana’s eyes which tugged Tzuyu’s heart. “It’s silly, really. I don’t know why I feel so guilty over something so trivial. My grandmother would scold me for thinking this way,” continued Sana. She attempted to laugh it off, but her voice was hollow.

“It’s not silly,” said Tzuyu firmly. “And it’s not selfish. Sometimes we cannot help but be captivated by beautiful things, such as flowers. It’s what brings us joy and comfort. There is nothing wrong with admiring something like that.”

Sana gazed forlornly off into the distance. “Beauty, in all of its glory, is nothing more than a mask of grief and pain,” she murmured, bitterly. She picked up a loose rose petal from the fountain water and rubbed it between her fingers like it was fine silk. For a moment, it appeared as if the deep shade of crimson stained her hand. Tzuyu blinked away the thought. “Briefly, we can find solace within its façade, but beauty is tragic: it lies; it taints; it withers; it decays; until we are left with only its ugliness, which has been rotting beneath it all along.”

Tzuyu chewed on Sana’s acrimony towards beauty; she did not think that beauty, by definition, was that extreme – or that dreadful – but Sana’s voice remained pragmatic, like this belief had been built and rebuilt over several years of personal observation, and most likely, firsthand experience. Her words were not unfamiliar though; it dawned on Tzuyu that she had come across similar sentiments earlier that day: the prejudice that had spoiled the pages of her textbook were brought forth inside her mind. Beauty with the heart of a monster. As far as Tzuyu was concerned, Sana believed in those words, absorbing all of the loathing around her – the unjust belligerence from the public towards the veela and anyone carrying veela blood – and turned it inward, aiming it all at herself.

A boiling rage bubbled in the pit of Tzuyu’s stomach. She was angry at the world for making Sana despise herself so much, especially when the older girl had only kindness and compassion to offer to everyone else. It was cruel and unfair. As cliché as it sounded, Tzuyu wanted to wrap her arms around Sana and protect her, and show her that beauty was not always tragic. That beauty, in all of its glory, was still filled with marvel and splendor. That beauty with its tender layered complexity was transcendent: because even if it was recognized for only a second, then for an entire second, you could feel the intimacy of the infinite universe.

She’d show Sana, Tzuyu promised herself, she’d show Sana that sometimes beauty was simply beautiful. It was job that she believed that she – and only she – could fulfill.

Silence fell, draped like a thin curtain between the girls; the shy glances and flickers of upturned lips teased for one of them to pull down the cover. They finished the last of the pastries, wiping hands on cloth napkins and packing up the blanket and tea set. At last, Tzuyu spoke: “Thank you, Sana. This was a pleasant afternoon. I enjoyed it very much.”

“No problem, Tzuyu. We should do this more often, it’s kind of nice to get away from the madness of life,” said Sana happily, back to her usual self.

Tzuyu’s eyes lingered on Sana, trailing down from Sana’s dazzling honey-brown eyes to her straight pointed nose, and resting on her lips. Tzuyu gulped nervously. Her face once again flared up; she could feel the tips of her ears burn and she told herself that if Sana mentioned it, she would just protest that it was the sticky heat of the greenhouse.

Impulsively, Tzuyu leaned in closer to Sana. She didn’t know why, but her body was moving on its own – her mind barely able to keep up – it was like some gravitational force was pulling her in, and at the center was Sana. Inch by inch, Tzuyu dared to close the gap between them until there was nothing more but a breath between their faces. Sana did not move nor did she say anything: her eyes clear yet unreadable, never leaving the Slytherin girl. Slowly, and ever so slowly, Tzuyu brought her lips . . .

“Hey, Tzuyu, I – OH.”

Tzuyu and Sana whipped their heads around to see Dahyun staring at them, mouth agape and eyes shifting through shock, confusion, and anger. Tzuyu immediately backed away from Sana, alert at the unexpected presence of her best friend. Why was Dahyun here? Why did she look so upset? Why was she running away? Wait.

“Dahyun!” shouted Tzuyu chasing after the fourth-year, ears falling deaf to Sana’s own shouts. She was curious as to why Dahyun had shown up. “Dahyun, hold on! Please – let’s talk!”

The fourth-year zip around the greenhouse, brushing past the dozens of leaves and vines as Tzuyu chased her in hot pursuit. Luckily, Dahyun wasn’t a fast runner; Tzuyu easily caught up to her friend, seizing the pale girl’s arm.

“Let go of me, Tzuyu! I get it, okay! I get it.” Dahyun tried to yank her arm away, but Tzuyu’s grip was firm.

“Get what? Why are you trying to run away? What’s wrong?” pleaded Tzuyu. “Dahyun, talk to me!”

Dahyun ignored Tzuyu. “LET ME GO, TZUYU. GET YOUR BLOODY HAND OFF OF ME.”

“NO! NOT UNTIL YOU CALM DOWN AND TELL ME WHY YOU’RE ACTING SO WEIRD. WHY HAVE YOU BEEN SO COLD TO ME?” Tzuyu shouted back. She lowered her voice, trying to calm herself down. “Please, tell me if I did something wrong, Dahyun. I’m sorry – whatever it may be. I-I just want things to go back to normal.”

Dahyun stopped fighting. Hot, angry tears stained her pale cheeks and her teeth were bared like a small animal backed into a corner. “It doesn’t matter. You’re with Sana. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

With Sana? What did Dahyun mean? Tzuyu wasn’t with Sana. Like . . . dating? They certainly were not dating – and that near kiss moment earlier was . . . well, Tzuyu didn’t know exactly what that was. She berated herself for acting so rash. What was she thinking? The two girls just had a picnic together and then Tzuyu tried to kiss Sana? Tzuyu face-palmed internally. Gah. Stupid.

And why was Dahyun so worked up over the idea of Tzuyu being together with Sana? It’s not like . . . oh snap. Tzuyu understood. Suddenly everything made sense. Back when she, Dahyun, and Chaeyoung ran into each other in the corridor and Chaeyoung was babbling on about Dahyun’s crush. How could she have been so dense? No wonder Dahyun had been acting so unfriendly.

“You fancy Sana,” murmured Tzuyu. Dahyun flinched at Tzuyu’s words like the younger girl had just slapped her in the face.

“Yes. Yes, I like Sana,” Dahyun confirmed after several moments of silence. She pulled her arm free from Tzuyu’s loosened grip, and then squared up to her friend, chest puffed out and her posture erect like she was trying to match Tzuyu in height. Her hands were clenched into small, tight fists. “What of it?”

For a moment, Tzuyu was speechless. It took several seconds before she could find her voice. “I . . . I’m not with Sana at all, Dahyun.”

“Oh . . . really?” Dahyun relaxed: a bright smile perched on her lips and a dreamy fog clouded her eyes. Her hands fidgeted eagerly with a weird silver pocket watch (Tzuyu wasn’t sure what it was exactly, and this was the first of her noticing the thing since Dahyun made her presence known). Dahyun reminded Tzuyu of a young child being told she could have all of the sweets and candy in the world. 

A jab seared through Tzuyu’s side when she saw Dahyun’s newborn elation; a strange rabid feeling gnawed her heart. “But I wouldn’t be too happy if I were you,” she added thoughtlessly, the words rolling off her tongue without warning.

Dahyun blinked. “Why?”

Tzuyu knew she should shut for she was treading dangerous waters, but her frustration got the better of her. She didn’t want to give hope to Dahyun and her (seemingly minor) crush. Dahyun, though she may have been friends longer with Sana, the fourth-year didn’t know Sana the way Tzuyu knew her. Their relationship had developed into something much more emotionally intimate in the last two months than Dahyun’s four years could ever foster. “B-because you can’t know for sure if your crush on Sana is genuine.”

“What? What makes you say that?”

“Because . . .” How could she get Dahyun to stop chasing after Sana?

“What are you talking about, Tzu? Because what?”

“Because . . .” Think, think!

“Tzuyu, look mate, I really like Sana and I – ”

At this point, Tzuyu could not keep it in. “Because she has veela blood! And everyone falls for a veela! That’s part of their power!”

Crap.

There was a gasp, barely audible like a sharp, quick inhale, but Tzuyu heard it and so did Dahyun. There, standing before them, was Sana with her hands clasped over ; her skin pallor was of a ghost and her eyes were watering. Her body shook violently like she was trying to suppress everything to keep from breaking down. Tzuyu could not even describe the anguish written on the sixth-year’s face.

“Y-you promised . . . you said . . . you . . . I trusted y-you, I told you . . . and you vowed you wouldn’t tell anyone,” choked Sana, struggling to say each word. Tzuyu stepped forward, reaching out to Sana, an apology on the tip of her tongue, but the latter dodged her hand. Sana backed away, each step quicker than the last, and soon her feet carried her further and further away from the girls.

Tzuyu stared guiltily as Sana vanished from her line of vision, not budging at all. She couldn’t believe that she shattered her trust with the older girl within a mere couple of seconds. How could she have been so foolish? The heat of the moment got the better of her, and Sana’s most precious secret had slipped out. Why didn’t she just lie? Feed Dahyun some a story like Sana wasn’t interested in dating right now. Or why didn’t she just tell Dahyun that she was indeed with Sana? (Dahyun had already believed that the two were together, anyway.) But no, Tzuyu hadn’t said any of those things – whether it was because she was awful at lying or couldn’t bring herself to – Tzuyu had told Dahyun the truth, and it backfired.

“Way to go, mate,” said Dahyun. She placed a hand Tzuyu’s shoulder in a manner that was more sarcastic than comforting. Tzuyu sensed that beneath Dahyun’s apathic demeanor there was a cold quiet fury. “Way to go.”

Tzuyu hung her head. Her body was numb. Her mind was numb. Her heart was numb. She really, really, really messed up.

A/n: Last chapter of the year. Sorry, I originally wanted to finish Part I before the month ended, but I quickly came to realize that I'd have to sacrifice quality for quantity, and I would rather have you all receive my best efforts than a slapdash finish. I do hope that this chapter included some good content; it took me quite a while to whip this one out, but the drama and the emotions had to be just right. I've been looking forward to dropping this chapter since almost the beginning :D Finally, the last and final riddle!! Hooray, my brain can rest at last. 

Anyway, Happy Birthday to Sana! Congrats on being old(er). 

Thank you everyone, once again, for your patience and support! Cheers to the upcoming year and forthcoming chapters. I think you're really gonna dig what happens lol ;)