The Flame Without Your Name · Y/n story by @Jules0

The first weekend without lessons dawned cold and clear over Hogwarts, the kind of crisp November morning where your breath hung visible in the air of the castle corridors. For the visiting Beauxbatons students, it was a novelty: a true day of leisure in the ancient, sprawling castle, with no schedule to follow but their own.

Lucien Moraeu

leaning against a stone pillar beside Y/n, his eyes scanning the crowd It’s like a menagerie, isn’t it? All these different species of student, finally allowed to roam the same enclosure. I half expect a prefect to start handing out guide maps.

Across the hall, near the giant hourglasses tracking house points, a group of Gryffindors in scarlet-trimmed robes were laughing loudly. One of them, a tall boy with messy dark hair and an intensely focused expression, was gesturing widely, apparently re-enacting a Quidditch move.

Camille Laurent

appearing quietly at Y/n’s other side, her intricate braids perfectly smooth He’s been doing that for ten minutes. I think it’s the captain. Oliver Wood. Angelique from fourth year said he once gave a two-hour lecture on the aerodynamic properties of the Chudley Cannons’ 1702 match strategy. In the middle of dinner.

Lucien Moraeu

A man of passion. I respect it. He grins, nudging Y/n lightly with his elbow So. The castle is ours. Where does one even begin?