Snape's eyes narrowed at Dumbledore's words, his expression slithering into something predatory, like a snake coiled to strike.
Dumbledore watched with amusement, absently stroking his silver beard. "Minerva and Filius are here too... They've even drafted a paper for Transfiguration Today. It's been ages since they've been this fired up."
Snape arched an eyebrow. "They were involved?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Absolutely. Their passion is infectious."
"Passion," Snape echoed, his lip curling in disgust, as if he'd spotted a cockroach skittering through his cauldron. "There's a tailwind at their backs, making them sprint ahead. They love it—fascinating, isn't it?" He drawled the last word with a mocking nasal twang.
If Harry and Ron had heard that, they'd have shivered and braced for a house-point deduction.
"Severus, choice trumps talent every time," Dumbledore said, his smile unwavering. "They're following their own paths, and that wind? It's just a bonus. They'd cross the finish line with or without it. Sound familiar?"
Snape fell silent, his jaw tight. He swept up his robes and glided from the office like a black mamba vanishing into the shadows.
Dumbledore watched him go, shaking his head with a fond chuckle. "He's got more spark than he used to. Dropping by my office more often these days."
Fawkes trilled a melodic cry, as if agreeing.
---
The secret corridor—tucked away in the Entrance Hall—had served as their hideout for weeks. Vizette had first brought Luna here before the Weasley twins caught wind of it.
The twins were obsessed with the old barrels, using them as echo chambers for their experiments. Their antics echoed like birdsong, and they'd always emerge with pockets full of stray feathers.
Luna, though, adored the space itself. She envisioned it as a proper secret base, cozy and mysterious. The Entrance Hall's vastness demanded effort, but Vizette jumped in eagerly. They'd sneak over whenever free, tweaking decorations bit by bit.
Vizette corralled the suit of armor into one corner for displaying relics, then shifted the dusty bookshelf of blank tomes to create a quiet study nook.
Next, he raided Hagrid's supplies for spare planks from the grounds. With a few spells, he assembled them into dividers, turning the area into distinct zones. The wood doubled as furniture, crucible stands—versatile and practical.
Hauling it all under the cover of night required stealth. If Filch patrolled near the front doors, Vizette would feign helpfulness, stacking boards with exaggerated purpose. "Just lightening the load," he'd quip.
The Weasley twins gawked, rubbing their eyes until they watered.
Fred blinked hard. "Filch aiding nighttime wanderers? What nightmare is this?"
George clutched his chest dramatically. "End it now—please!"
Filch shot them a venomous glare before turning to Vizette, voice quavering. "Could you... levitate my wand? So I can, er, manage a few planks? I know the incantation! Yuga... Dimlevi... O... Sa!"
At the Vanishing Cabinet, he brandished a fake wand with textbook precision—flick and swish spot-on.
Voice shaky, he looked up like a pupil seeking approval. "Spot of guidance? Did I get it right?"
Vizette sympathized; the allure of magic's power was no secret. His own notebook brimmed with ideas for enchanted artifacts. He couldn't promise quick results, but he'd help when he could.
Filch beamed. "Now I can cast a Scourgify to scrub the castle—it's a dream! No rush; I get it."
---
As Vizette partitioned the space, Luna bustled about, infusing the hall with charm.
"Hannah and I unearthed this," she said proudly, gesturing to a zodiac tapestry. "A thorough Scourgify revealed its true shine!"
The deep blue-violet weave shimmered with copper-threaded constellations that twinkled and shifted, casting a starry glow.
Luna's astronomy phase was in full swing; she'd also snagged a star chart for late-night stargazing.
The house-elves, thrilled by her friendliness, pitched in with cushions and armchairs, transforming the central area into a lounge.
Now divided and furnished, the corridor felt less like a drafty passage and more like a hidden home—a true secret base.
Satisfied, they settled at the new living room table, brewing tea like it was their own parlor. Herbal blends steamed alongside crumbly biscuits, petit fours, and dried fruits.
"This is Professor Sprout's recipe—honey-soaked instead of syrup," Luna said, offering a glossy, ingot-shaped candied fruit from a jar. It gleamed reddish-brown against her pale fingers.
Vizette plucked one, their fingertips brushing. He popped it in his mouth—tender, with honey's subtle bloom.
Luna's smile was warmer than the brew. "How's the taste?"
"Not overly sweet; pairs perfectly with tea," he replied, pouring her a cup and handing over another piece. "Fresh jar, yeah? Ideal timing."
She nodded, savoring it. "Just right."
Amid packed schedules, these stolen moments of tea and treats felt like a quiet luxury—a brief escape into calm.
—