Harry Potter: Wandering witch

The castle corridors grew quieter as they followed Vi, their footsteps muffled by centuries-old stone. Illuna trailed her fingers along the wall as they walked, the rough-hewn granite cool against her skin even through her robes. The air smelled faintly of lemon polish and something earthier beneath—perhaps the lingering trace of the potions classrooms several floors below.

Lily kept pace beside her, her shoulder occasionally brushing Illuna's as they navigated a narrow turn. "Hey, Flower," she said, voice low, "where's Midnight? He's usually glued to your shoulder by now."

Illuna glanced at Tessa and Vi ahead, still bickering in hissed whispers—something about Tessa's "reckless disregard for self-preservation."

"He's staging a protest," Illuna replied. "Apparently preventing him from committing owl-manslaughter warrants a formal apology."

Celine chuckled, the sound rich and warm in the hushed hallway. "Still holding grudges, then? I'm still stumped how he got into the sorting feast. At least he didn't get in during our last few dinners"

"He's tried," Illuna admitted. 'and succeeded' she thoughts. "multiple times"

"Does he do this often?" Tessa asked.

Illuna nodded slightly "only when I made a perceived offense against him. "

Tessa nods as if the world makes sense now. Thinking about her own cat most likely.

They reached a bend in the corridor where stained glass windows cast fractured light across the floor—emerald and sapphire shards that rippled as they passed. Celine paused, the colours painting her in fleeting hues.

"This is where I leave you," she said, adjusting her scarf with deliberate care. "My study group awaits—though I doubt they'll be half as entertaining as yours." Her gaze flicked to Illuna, sharp with unspoken meaning. "Try not to duel anyone before I see you next. Or if you must, at least learn the disarming charm first."

Celine shrugs "who am I kidding, a Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Slytherin working together. That's hound to cause trouble"

Illuna's fingers twitched toward her wand. 'Next time', she promised silently, 'I'll be faster.'

Snape made a derisive noise but said nothing. Lily chewed her lip, thoughtful, while Tessa patted her robes. "Note to self: pack dungbombs."

McGonagall's office door loomed ahead, carved with runes so worn they looked like shadows. The professor looked up as they entered, her spectacles glinting in the firelight.

"You're late."

Illuna stepped forward before the others could react. "My apologies, Professor. We were… delayed by a family matter."

McGonagall's lips thinned. "Your brother, I presume. Victor's talents are considerable, though his temperament leaves much to be desired." The words were measured, but her grip tightened on the ledger before her. "Regardless, that's not why you're here."

She rose, her robes whispering against the floorboards, and led them down a side passage Illuna had never noticed—a slim gap between two bookcases, hidden unless viewed at just the right angle. The air here was cooler, tinged with the scent of parchment and, oddly, fresh-cut pine.

"You don't have to pass through this room to get to our destination. It is just the fastest and most secure way."

"The house-elves maintain all spaces, even those seldom used," McGonagall said as they walked. Her voice echoed oddly in the narrow hall, as if the stones absorbed half her words.

At the end stood an unremarkable oak door, its iron hinges flecked with rust. McGonagall produced a brass key from her sleeve and pressed it into Vi's palm.

"This room is yours on three conditions," she said, holding up as many fingers. "One: absolute discretion. Two: no spellwork in the corridors. Three—" Her gaze swept over them, lingering on Vi still-scowling face. "—you will inform me immediately if any magic behaves unpredictably. Transfiguration is not a discipline to be taken lightly."

The door creaked open to reveal a circular chamber bathed in late-afternoon light. Dust motes swirled in the sunbeams slanting through a high, arched window. A long table dominated the centre, its surface scarred with decades of use—claw marks from errant transformations, dark stains that might've been ink or potions. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with tattered manuals and oddities: a glass case of frozen butterflies, a brass scales that tilted perpetually to the left.

Illuna breathed in—the room smelled of beeswax and old spells, the kind of scent that clung to the pages of well-loved grimoires.

McGonagall hovered in the doorway. "I expect great things from this group. Do try not to blow anything up before Thursday." With that, she shut the door behind her, leaving them in sudden, sunlit silence.

Vi slumped onto the worn velvet couch in the corner faster than the group could blink, its springs groaning in protest. She kicked her boots up on the armrest, crossing her ankles with deliberate laziness.

"I'll be here," she announced, tilting her hat over her eyes. "Try not to set anything on fire."

Illuna paused mid-way through unrolling her parchment. "You won't be helping?"

Vi peeked out from under the brim of her hat. "Helping? Sweet Merlin, no. I agreed to supervise, not tutor." She yawned, stretching like a contented kneazle. "Frankly, this is the closest I'll get to a nap all week. Prefect duties and all that."

With that, she snapped her fingers. The torches nearest her dimmed obediently, and she folded her arms behind her head, feigning sleep.

The group exchanged glances—Lily's lips pursed in amusement, Snape's eyebrow arched in scepticism, Tessa rolling her eyes so hard Vi could practically hear it from across the room.

'Too easy.' She thought

For the next hour, Vi watched through slitted eyes as the four of them huddled around the table, their voices a low hum of concentration.

Illuna was predictably meticulous, her needle transformations flawless by the third attempt. She'd pause between spells to scribble notes in that infernal journal of hers, lips moving silently as she dissected every wrist movement.

Lily, meanwhile, had a Gryffindor's enthusiasm helping the others with the Matchstick. Her hair escaped its braid as she worked, fiery strands sticking to her forehead.

Snape… well, Snape was a quiet storm. His spells were efficient, his critiques sharper. When Tessa's rock-to-fabric attempt produced something closer to a dishrag, he didn't snicker. Just muttered, "Your visualization is lacking. Fabric has structure, not just drape."

And Tessa—bless her—was all stubborn energy. She'd jab her wand at the rocks like they'd personally offended her, grinning when they finally, reluctantly, turned into passable linen.

Vi suppressed a groan. 'Merlin's beard, they're actually debating thread counts now.'

When Tessa, with snaps help, started diagramming textile-weaving charms on the blackboard, Vi had enough.

She sat up abruptly, her hat tumbling to the floor. "This is painful to watch."

Four heads swivelled toward her.

"You've spent an hour turning rocks into napkins," she said, rolling her shoulders. "Meanwhile, any second-year with a grudge could walk in here and hex you into next week."

Illuna frowned. "We're here for Transfiguration, not duelling."

Vi smirked. "And how'd that work out with dear Victor earlier?"

A beat of silence. Lily's fingers twitched toward her wand.

"Exactly." Vi stood, cracking her knuckles. "So let's cover basics. Stances first."

She marched them to the centre of the room, shoving furniture aside with careless flicks of her wand.

"Feet shoulder-width apart," she ordered, demonstrating. "Wand arm loose but ready. Non-dominant hand out for balance—yes, like that, Evans. Snape, stop standing like you're about to recite poetry."

Tessa snickered. Vi silenced her with a look.

"Levitation isn't just for feathers," she continued. "Leviosa someone's robes over their head mid-duel, and suddenly they're fighting blind." She demonstrated on a hanging cloak—it ballooned upward, sleeves knotting themselves.

Lily's eyes lit up. "That's brilliant!"

"Next: constant movement." Vi began circling them, her boots scuffing the stone. "A stationary target is a spell magnet. Dodge, weave, make them work for it."

She had them practice footwork until Snape's usually pallid cheeks flushed pink, until Tessa's breath came in gasps.

Then, the pièce de résistance:

"Stinging Hex. Non-lethal, but hurts like hell. Perfect for beginners." Vi demonstrated on a practice dummy—a flash of orange light, and the dummy's arm jerked violently.

Tessa whooped. "Teach me that one first!"

By the time they finished, an hour and a half later, the room was a whirlwind of spell-light and panting laughter. Even Snape looked vaguely alive, his hair sticking to his temples as he dodged Lily's (poorly aimed) robe-levitation attempt.

Vi clapped her hands. "Not terrible. For a bunch of theoretical nerds." She said as they left the study room.

Illuna and Lily exchanged glances—Astronomy loomed, and neither fancied facing the stars half-dead. They excused themselves, Illuna pausing at the door.

Snape, ever the wordsmith, merely said, "Hn" while Tessa gave Vi a look of annoyance.

"…Thank you," she said, so quiet Vi almost missed it.

Vi waved her off. "Don't mention it. Literally. If McGonagall finds out I turned her study session into combat training, I'll be scrubbing cauldrons until graduation."

As the door shut behind them, Tessa collapsed onto the couch, groaning. "I think I've sweat more in the past hour than my entire life."

Vi grinned. Oh yes, this had been infinitely more entertaining than paperwork. She thought alone in the study room