We had agreed on it the night before.
The quest, the break-in, the absolutely mental idea of sneaking past a three-headed dog and whatever horrors lay beyond it—all of that was scheduled for tonight. Because that was apparently the kind of people we were now.
So naturally, I couldn't sleep.
I didn't even try.
I had stayed up all night in bed, staring at the canopy, listening to the slow, steady breathing of everyone else in the dorm. Ron had kicked off a shoe in his sleep that landed half-off my bed, and Neville's snoring continued its proud tradition of sounding like a congested banshee playing the bagpipes.
Eventually, I gave up. Around the earliest edge of sunrise, I slipped out of bed and padded down to the common room, still too wired to rest and too tired to think clearly.
The fire had burned down to sleepy embers by the time I sank into the couch near the hearth. Outside, frost clung to the windows like ghost fingerprints, and the castle beyond was still wrapped in silence.
Too early for destiny.
Too early for plans.
Too early for Gryffindor.
Eventually, I made myself move. The castle was still sleeping, but I needed to be doing something. Anything. The others wouldn't be up for hours, and if I had to sit still with my own thoughts much longer, I might transfigure myself into a quill just for the distraction.
By the time the Great Hall opened for breakfast, I was already there. Alone.
The ceiling was its usual enchanted self—overcast and moody, perfectly matching the state of my brain. The long tables were completely empty, save for me and a single disgruntled house-elf trying to refill the pumpkin juice. The only thing louder than the echo of my spoon clinking against my porridge was the awkward silence of being too awake in a school full of sleepers.
I'd barely made it halfway through a slice of toast when Hermione shuffled in like a zombie who'd pulled an all-nighter organizing a library by emotional trauma. Her hair was a frizzed halo of exhaustion, and her eyes had bags under them large enough to smuggle banned books past Filch.
She sat down across from me with a thump and a groan.
"Merlin's beard," she muttered. "I don't think I slept at all."
"You look like you lost a duel with a textbook," I said. "Did you at least win on points?"
She glared at me over her teacup. "I was thinking."
"Dangerous habit. Should get it checked."
Despite herself, she smirked.
At least the sausages weren't burnt. That was something.
I sat next to Hermione. She gave me a cautious smile.
"You disappeared last night after we talked," she said quietly.
I picked up a spoon. Stirred some porridge. "Needed air."
"You went into your trunk, didn't you?"
I glanced at her. "What gave it away?"
"You always smell like lemon polish and suspiciously organized disaster when you come out of there."
I gave her a lazy grin. "Charmed scent markers. Keeps nosy prefects guessing."
Ron sat down across from us, yawning. "You two sound like you're planning a heist."
"We're not," I said.
"But if we were," Hermione added, "we wouldn't tell you."
He looked genuinely offended. "Oi!"
"You'd trip over your own shoelaces in the first thirty seconds," I said.
He looked down. His laces were untied. "...Okay that's fair."
Hermione laughed softly, and for a moment, everything felt almost normal.
Almost.
But my brain was still moving, calculating. I couldn't afford not to be ready.
By mid-morning, I made an excuse and vanished.
Time to get back to work.
The trunk opened with a sigh and the comforting click of security charms disengaging. I dropped inside, landed on the soft flooring with practiced ease, and immediately made for the far drawer—the one labeled in red ink:
"Plan C: If Quirrell Gets Stupid"
Hey, I liked to be prepared.
Inside were minor enchantments, scraps of parchment with ideas I hadn't fully committed to yet, and one very ugly doll of Quirrell that I may or may not have stabbed a few times with a quill.
I set it aside. Professionalism.
I began to sort through what I could actually use. Smoke bombs. Fire-starting powder. An anti-fungal cream (accidentally stored there by Seamus during a bet—I did not want to know the details). And tucked in the back, a note to myself I'd written in December:
"If this drawer is relevant, you're either brilliant… or doomed. Possibly both."
"Yeah," I muttered. "Sounds about right."
I pocketed a few things. Created a quickfire spell-scroll using some of the reusable parchment. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to throw someone off.
Then I stared at the wall for a bit.
Just… stared.
My mind wouldn't settle. Not really. The chaos was still there, but it wasn't fun chaos. It wasn't the kind that made me cackle and sprint through the castle with three stolen pillows and an enchanted duck.
This chaos felt heavier.
Quieter.
By the time I got back up to the entrance hall, Flitwick was waiting for me.
He beamed. "Mr. Kingston! Just the person I hoped to see."
"Unless I owe you a homework assignment," I said, "in which case I've never seen me before in my life."
Flitwick chuckled. "Nothing like that. I've spoken with Professor McGonagall and a few others—your work has been… impressive. Very impressive. I'd like to offer you and Miss Granger the opportunity to take your year-end practicals early."
"Ah," I said. "A reward in the form of more exams. The classic Hogwarts strategy."
"You'd gain access to some restricted materials—purely for study, of course."
Of course.
I gave him a nod. "I'll think about it."
"Wonderful!" he said, already walking off.
I muttered, "Because if I survive the school year, what I really want to do is more homework."
Hermione found me again before dinner. Dragged me into the library.
"You're pulling away again," she said, no preamble.
"I'm focused."
"You're isolating."
"Is there a difference?"
"Yes!"
She folded her arms. "You promised you'd help. And I don't mean just with Harry and the Stone. I mean with… this. Everything. You can't shut us out."
I rubbed the back of my neck and muttered before I could stop myself, "I just don't want you getting dragged into my mistakes."
Her eyes sharpened instantly. "What have you done?"
I blinked. "Nothing! Yet. Hypothetically. In theory."
Her stare was a full-blown Legilimency attempt.
I held up my hands. "Okay, okay, I just meant… I've made a few moves. Pushed things. Might've accelerated the timeline a little."
"A little?"
I gave her a weak smile. "Define 'catastrophic'?"
She sighed, then stepped closer and gently slipped something into my hand.
A small silver pin. It looked like a tiny phoenix wing.
"For luck," she said. "Or style. Or maybe it just reminded me of you. It's stubborn, shiny, and refuses to die."
I blinked.
"That's… oddly flattering."
"I was going for oddly accurate."
I let out a soft laugh.
Maybe the chaos wasn't entirely gone.
Maybe it had just taken a nap while I remembered who I was.
"All right!!" SMACK I slapped both of my cheeks with the palms of my hands, snapping myself out of my funk with what might have been a villainous grin.
"You want chaos?! I'll give it to you in spades!" I declared with triumphant flair.
Hermione groaned. "Oh no. What have I awakened."