Upstairs, the girls' dormitory was quiet. Heavy curtains blocked out the late afternoon sun, leaving the room in a dim, hazy half-light. The air smelled faintly of lavender and the lingering trace of a fever.

Y/n lay curled beneath her covers, warm and still. A half-empty glass of water sat on the nightstand, along with a discarded vial of Pepperup Potion and a crumpled handkerchief.

Then—the door slammed open.

The sound cracked through the silence like a thunderclap. The wooden frame shuddered against the stone wall. The glass on the nightstand trembled.

Y/n jolted awake, heart hammering, breath catching in her throat as she blinked against the sudden flood of corridor light.