Chapter Text
POV Rozemyne
"Princess... Princess..."
I shifted under my covers, pulling the blankets over my head in an attempt to block out the voice that was speaking.
"Princess, it's second bell. Time to wake up."
The voice sounded firmer now, accompanied by a gentle pat on my shoulder. I wanted to sleep just a little longer—please, Rihyarda...
Wait a moment. Rihyarda? Wasn't I in Hogwarts? I arrived just yesterday! Was it all a dream?
Bracing myself, I hugged the stuffed shumil in my arms even tighter, pushed the blankets aside, and slowly opened my eyes.
My vision was blurry, but even through the unfocused haze I could see an overlapping image: my bed in the Linkberg mansion and the bed in Ravenclaw's dormitory. Rihyarda was there, waiting for me to wake up, but she didn’t look solid. Not quite like the ghosts at Hogwarts—she looked even less corporeal.
I rubbed my eyes with the sleeve of my nightclothes. Rihyarda was gone. I was alone in the Ravenclaw dormitory bed.
I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. I felt lost, and there was a slight ache in my head. Then, out of nowhere, the memories of what happened yesterday during the Sorting Ceremony assaulted me, making the headache even worse. The gods had been talking in my mind, arguing over which house I should be sent to—Mestionora even outright called me her daughter.
Haaaaa… what’s wrong with the gods!?
I wanted to scream with all my might, but I refrained, since I wasn’t alone in the room and my roommates were probably still asleep. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down.
How am I supposed to report this? I was more in favor of saying nothing and keeping it to myself, but with how unpredictable the gods had proven to be, it might be for the best if my guardians knew. I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. Since I didn’t get in touch with Mother last night, I would have to speak to her today—no excuses.
But… what do I even say?
Hey, Mom. I’m having a great first day at school. By the way, last night during the Sorting Ceremony, the gods had a huge argument about which house I should go to, and Mestionora casually claimed to be my mother.
Haaa… damn.
I let out a long sigh. There wasn’t much use in complaining about it, so I focused on regaining control over myself. Drawing on all my noble training, I concealed the turmoil of emotions behind a perfectly crafted lady’s mask. Once I felt more composed, I sat up in bed and pulled apart the curtains of the canopy.
The room was mostly dark—the thick drapes over the windows allowed only a few rays of light to pass through.
As my eyes adjusted, I took in the unfamiliar surroundings once more. The Ravenclaw girls’ dormitory was circular, with five tall canopy beds spaced evenly around the room. Each bed was framed in dark wood, draped with soft blue curtains embroidered with silver stars.
There was a tall arched window between two of the beds, its glass frosted with the morning chill. Beneath it sat a wide desk with ink bottles, parchment, and a flickering enchanted lamp that must have been left on overnight.
A round blue carpet covered the center of the room, its design patterned with eagles and winding constellations. Books and trunks were tucked neatly—or not so neatly—at the foot of each bed.
The curtains of my roommates’ beds were still closed—apparently, I was the first to wake up. I could hear the soft, rhythmic breathing of the girl in the bed beside mine.
Not wanting to disturb anyone, I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could and tiptoed toward the door of the dormitory. Carefully, so as not to make any noise, I slipped out and closed it gently behind me.
Descending the spiral staircase that wound down the Ravenclaw tower, I soon reached the base, where a wooden door stood carved with the silhouette of a witch. I opened it and stepped into a surprisingly spacious bathroom.
The room was divided into two clear sections, separated by a long row of elegant sinks with polished silver faucets. To one side were the toilets—each tucked away behind individual doors for privacy. On the other side, past the line of sinks, were several bathing areas, each containing a large porcelain tub. Tall wooden screens stood between them, offering enough privacy for a comfortable soak.
The stone floor was warm beneath my feet, and soft lights hovered near the ceiling, casting a gentle glow across the white-and-blue tiles. The air smelled faintly of lavender and something minty, and the sound of distant water flowing created a calming background hum.
I approached one of the bathtubs, its porcelain surface gleaming under the soft enchanted lights. Inside the bathing space, neatly enclosed by a tall wooden screen, there was also a small cabinet fixed to the wall, divided into several compartments.
In the first compartment, I found several bottles of shampoo and soap bars alongside a variety of sponges—some coarse, others as soft as fluff. I picked up one and pressed it gently between my fingers, curious about its texture.
Next, I moved toward the bottles of shampoo, opening them one by one and smelling the scents. The one I liked the most had a fresh citrus aroma, so I took it. Then I picked a soap with a soft scent of honey. Satisfied, I closed the compartment.
In the next compartment, I discovered neatly folded towels, still warm as if they had just come from the laundry. In the last one, there were soft bathrobes, each embroidered with a small silver eagle—the emblem of Ravenclaw.
Last night, the house prefects had given us a quick orientation about the tower, the common room, the dormitories, and of course, the bathroom. To be honest, I hadn’t paid much attention—my mind had started to shut down after the whole mess at the Sorting Ceremony. The only thing I could think about was getting into bed and forgetting everything.
What I did remember, though, was that the bathrooms were enchanted to always be stocked with essentials. Even the water refreshed itself after use, and subtle cleaning charms kept everything in perfect order. They’d also been quite firm about the rules: no flooding the floors, no experimenting with potions in the tubs, and absolutely no enchanted soap fights.
I closed the compartments and placed the soap and shampoo on top of the cabinet, next to a large wicker basket. Since it was empty, I assumed its purpose was for us to place our clothes while bathing, as I didn’t see any other space for that.
With that in mind, I closed the wooden screen behind me and began to undress, folding my clothes neatly before placing them in the basket. Then I walked over to the tub and turned the faucet. A stream of hot water flowed smoothly, filling the bathtub.
While I waited, I returned to the cabinet and retrieved the bottle of shampoo and the soap I had chosen. The warm scent of steam and sweet herbs began to fill the enclosed space. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment, letting the familiarity of it wrap around me like a protective cloak.
Everything felt surreal. My surroundings were foreign, the magic different, the air itself tinged with something unfamiliar. Yet this quiet space—this moment alone—was grounding. I could almost pretend, just for a few minutes, that I was safe. That things were normal. That I wasn’t being pulled along by the whims of the gods, tossed about like a leaf in a storm I never chose to enter.
Once the tub was full, I turned off the faucet and carefully dipped a toe in to test the temperature. The water was pleasantly warm. I stepped in slowly, letting the heat ease its way into my body.
A soft sigh escaped my lips as I sank into the water. Back in Ehrenfest, it was usually my attendants who handled my baths, every step taken carefully. But this... this was a welcome change. It reminded me of my days as Urano—simple, quiet moments where I could take my time and enjoy the warmth without anyone fussing over me.
As the heat soaked into my skin, I felt the tightness in my chest slowly begin to ease. For now, I could lower the mask. I could just be a girl in a bath, not a daughter of gods, not a noble, not even Rozemyne. Just... me.
I began to clean my hair with the shampoo, massaging my scalp gently. The citrus scent floated into the air—bright and comforting. My eyes fluttered closed as I worked the lather through each strand, allowing myself to enjoy the moment. After rinsing the foam away with warm water, I picked up the soft sponge and began to wash the rest of my body with the honey-scented soap.
Once I was done, I lay back in the bathtub, letting the warmth seep into my bones. The shampoo and soap were both of a much higher quality than what we usually had at home. Mmm... The Rinsham, unfortunately, couldn't be improved; enhancing it would require different processes and ingredients—something beyond my reach. The soap, however, was a different matter. I knew how to craft better-quality soap, even with the limited resources of Ehrenfest. Of course, it would take some experimentation, but it was entirely possible.
I should talk to Charlotte about this, I mused. It would be a good learning experience—to show her how to develop a product from scratch.
As the first signs of overheating began to creep across my skin, I decided it was time to get out. With a flick of the lever, the tub began to drain—an enchanted mechanism, undoubtedly—and I stepped out, wrapping myself in one of the warm, fluffy towels. I dried my hair as best I could, then slipped into one of the soft bathrobes. The fabric was thick and comforting, with Ravenclaw’s silver eagle embroidered just below the collar in delicate threadwork.
I gathered my folded clothes from the basket and made my way back to the dormitory. Inside, Cho and Marietta were already sitting up in their beds, stretching and yawning. The girl in the bed beside mine had begun to stir as well.
“Good morning,” I greeted softly, offering them a nod.
Cho and Marietta returned it with sleepy, clumsy gestures, still shaking off the last traces of sleep.
I moved toward the closet and pulled out my uniform, laying it neatly on the bed. After drying off, I got dressed, slipping into each piece of my uniform with practiced ease. Once I was fully dressed and had adjusted the collar and sleeves, I folded the towel with care and placed it, along with my used clothes, in the laundry basket near the door.
Then I knelt down in front of the trunk resting at the foot of my bed and opened it. Nestled safely inside was my stuffed shumil. I took a moment to hold it gently, my fingers brushing over the soft, dark green fur. It still carried the faint scent of Mother’s favorite Rinsham. She had given it to me the day before my departure, and it had been such a lovely surprise. I hadn’t expected to sleep well last night, but the shumil had brought me comfort. Even now, I felt a small warmth in my chest just looking at it.
With care, I tucked it back into the trunk and retrieved the protective charms Ferdinand had entrusted to me. One by one, I put them on. The last piece was the hair ornament.
I combed my hair into the same style I used to wear back when I was still Myne, then glanced at my reflection in the mirror by the wall to judge my work. Once I was satisfied, I began preparing my backpack, using the schedule we had been given by the prefects last night as a guide.
In the schedule were listed all the subjects mentioned in the Harry Potter books, and a few others that weren’t—such as Magic Theory, Basic Arithmancy, Magical Ethics, Geography, Literature, and… P.E. I couldn’t help but frown. Back in my Urano days, that had been the subject I disliked the most. Just the thought of running laps again made my stomach turn. I also noticed that some of the subjects had a mark next to them, but I wasn’t sure what it meant yet.
From the corner of my eye, I caught a hint of movement. The girl in the bed next to mine pulled back her curtains, yawning and scratching her head. I greeted her softly with a quiet, “Good morning,” and she responded with a grumpy growl that made me blink in mild amusement.
I returned to preparing my backpack, slipping my highbeast stone and wand into the inner pockets of my robe once everything else was ready. Then, I moved toward the door and climbed the spiral staircase leading to the Ravenclaw common room.
Last night, I had been far too tired to notice anything besides my bed. But now—well-rested and far more alert—I finally took the time to look around.
The moment I stepped inside, my breath caught in my throat.
The common room was a circular chamber, spacious and elegant, with high arched windows offering a breathtaking view of the sky still painted in the soft hues of early morning. The ceiling shimmered faintly, enchanted to reflect the constellations—as if one were standing beneath the open night sky. Soft light filtered through sheer blue and silver curtains, casting a tranquil glow over the room.
At the center stood a magnificent fireplace—currently unlit—its mantle carved with delicate runes and crowned with a bust of Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Her eyes, made of enchanted crystal, seemed to follow me with quiet intellect and silent expectation.
The room was draped in Ravenclaw’s signature colors: rich midnight blue and gleaming silver. The furniture was elegant yet welcoming—high-backed chairs, velvet sofas embroidered with stars and crescents, and cozy armchairs tucked near low tables. Small writing desks stood neatly in corners, some already topped with parchment and quills, waiting for thought and inspiration.
Scattered between the furniture were brass telescopes pointed toward the windows, celestial charts rolled open, and delicate models of the planets suspended from the ceiling, slowly rotating as if floating in space.
But what truly stole my attention—what made my heart skip a beat—was the enormous bookshelf stretching from floor to ceiling along the far wall. It was packed to the brim with books of every shape, size, and color. Leather-bound tomes, delicate scrolls in gilded cases, even a few glittering crystal volumes shimmered among the shelves. I could practically hear them whispering to me.
More unread beauties. More knowledge. More stories.
My arms curled instinctively around myself, a soft, eager grin tugging at my lips.
Perhaps… perhaps Ravenclaw really was the perfect place for me.
I turned toward a clock hanging on the far wall and felt my heart sink—7:50 a.m.
“By the Seven…” I whispered, panic prickling at the back of my neck. My first class started at eight—and it was Transfiguration!
I bolted across the common room, weaving between sofas and study tables, my shoes barely touching the carpeted floor. As I pushed open the arched door leading out of the Ravenclaw Tower, I froze.
I didn’t know where the Transfiguration classroom was.
"Um—excuse me?" I called out, glancing at the nearest wall of portraits.
A tall painting beside the doorway rustled to life. A wizard with silver spectacles and a moon-patterned robe peered down at me from a velvet chair.
“Lost already, are we?” he said, raising a bushy eyebrow.
“Yes! I’m trying to get to Transfiguration—it’s my first class!”
He chuckled, stroking his long beard. “Ah, Professor McGonagall’s classroom. Very well. Go down the spiral staircase, turn left at the eagle statue, then straight through the portrait of the napping centaur. At the third hallway, take the moving staircase down to the first floor. It's the classroom with the stained-glass windows and the carved griffin above the door. You can’t miss it."
“Thank you!” I blurted and dashed down the stairs.
“Mind the trick step!” he called after me, just as my foot sank halfway into one.
“Too late,” I groaned, yanking my foot free.
The castle corridors were a blur of shifting staircases, talking portraits, and curious suits of armor, but somehow—between enchanted landmarks and frantic glances at my timetable—I managed to reach the right door just as Professor McGonagall was stepping inside.
Heart pounding, I slipped in behind her, hoping not to draw attention.
The classroom was spacious and orderly, with tall windows that flooded the room with pale morning light. Sunlight filtered through stained glass in soft hues of gold and blue, casting gentle patterns on the stone floor. High shelves lined the back wall, filled with neatly arranged objects: teacups, beetles preserved in jars, small wooden animals, and even a row of matchsticks—each one waiting to be turned into something else.
At the front stood a large blackboard, spotless and framed in dark oak, and nearby was a heavy desk polished to a shine. The students’ desks were arranged in tidy rows, each with a simple wooden chair, all facing forward like soldiers standing at attention.
There were already about twenty students in the room—a mix of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. I hurried in and slipped into one of the last remaining seats, still breathless from my dash across the castle, my heart beating like a drum in my chest.
A few minutes later, the door opened again and four more girls stumbled in, equally breathless. My roommates—Cho, Marietta, and the other two whose names I still hadn’t quite managed to memorize. One had smooth, straight black hair that fell past her shoulders and warm brown skin—she moved quietly, almost shyly, keeping her eyes down as she took her seat. The other had a mess of unruly chestnut hair, freckles sprinkled across her cheeks, and a slightly wild look in her eyes.
A bell rang through the room, clear and sharp. Professor McGonagall, who had been seated at her desk only moments earlier, stood with practiced grace and addressed the class with a commanding voice.
“Let us begin,” she said, stepping forward and sweeping the room with her gaze. “Transfiguration is, without a doubt, one of the most complex and dangerous branches of magic you will study at Hogwarts. It is not a game,” she continued, each word crisp and deliberate. “It requires your full attention. But more importantly, it demands discipline.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, her tone sharpened. “If I catch anyone treating this subject lightly, they will be dismissed from my class without a second thought. No excuses. You have been warned.”
Just as she finished speaking, a sharp, searing pain shot through the front of my body. I gasped, the sound escaping me before I could stop it. My hands trembled as I frantically searched the inner pocket of my robe for one of my stamina potions—only to find nothing. I must have left them behind in the dormitory.
“Miss Linkberg , is there a problem?” Professor McGonagall’s voice was severe, but there was a flicker of concern in her eyes.
“I—I’m not feeling well,” I murmured, my vision beginning to blur. My other self in Ehrenfest had already collapsed… and it seemed I was about to follow.
“Miss Underwood, please accompany Miss Linkberg to the hospital wing,” the professor instructed briskly.
“Apologies, Professor,” I managed to say, my voice faint and unsteady, “but I don’t think I can walk that far. May I call for Alexandra?”
Without waiting for a response, I began to pray.
“Ordoschnelli, divine messenger of the gods, please hear my plea. Heilschmerz has forsaken me—deliver my message to her disciple, that I might regain her blessing.”
The fey stone on my ring glowed softly, then brightened. A small sphere of light emerged, hovering before me. It shimmered, taking the shape of a white bird—like an ordonnanz, though far more radiant.
“Alexandra, this is Rozemyne,” I whispered . “I don’t feel well. I’m about to faint. Please come find me—I’m in Professor McGonagall’s class. Ask the portraits how to get here…”
That was all I managed before the world tilted, and darkness swallowed me whole.