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Chapter Text

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. 

.

.

.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and then, at last -- 

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

“The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

“Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, Oh my goodness, yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting...So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that -- no? Well, if you're sure -- better be 

GRYFFINDOR!"

- Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone: (Ch. 7) The Sorting Hat

——

"Jeon Jungkook!" Jungyu’s voice booms from the living room, "If you don’t get your ass here in a second I'll burn your fake Horcrux set, don't you test me!"

Like a spell has been cast, Jungkook appears, an impish grin spreading across his face. "Did you need something, big brother?" he asks innocently, crawling out from under the bunk bed. "I was a little preoccupied, you see."

Jungyu fumes, his brows furrowing in frustration. “What in Merlin’s beard were you so busy with that you couldn’t hear me shouting your name, not even once?”

Jungkook’s playful grin twists into something darker, a sly gleam in his eyes as he replies, “Well, you see, someone swiped my Astrology Guide last week. I’ve had no choice but to hunt it down—searched high and low, everywhere.”

Realization flickers across his brother's face, and Jungkook basks in the moment, watching his brother try to maintain his composure. However, it’s all futile, they share the same blood, he can look through the facade like glass. The telltale cracking of Jungyu’s knuckles betrays him—he’s fully aware of the game Jungkook is playing.

And Jeon Jungkook is nothing if not sharp, "Wanna know where my hunt ended?"

This is where Jungyu's feigned ignorance crumbles, his eyes widening to the size of bludgers. "You found it?" he half-screams, disbelief and panic blending in his voice.

"Sure I did, Jungu, with the images of lunar phases cut out," Jungkook hisses, taking a predatory step forward. "Imagine my surprise when I also found a letter addressed to Luna Lovegood, along with those missing pictures, all tucked under your pillow."

"Kook, I can explain," Poor boy stammers, stumbling as he tries to retreat. But his effort is in vain as his back hits the main door. Jungkook raises a challenging brow, the taste of victory lingering on his tongue—Jungyu can't escape. He had locked the only way out beforehand.

His brother is a predictable man—always either darting out of the house or scurrying to their mother to spill the beans. Every single time. Right now, the ball is in his court as neither the door will budge nor their mother will magically appear. 

Realizing there's no way out, Jungyu opens his mouth, ready to sweet-talk his way to freedom. But he cuts him off, "I am not in the mood to listen about your undying love for a 70-year-old lady." 

Jungyu trills in offense, "Hey! Miss Luna is still as beautiful as she was in her 20s."

Unimpressed, Jungkook merely rolls his eyes, "She is Mrs now, you Gallopin' Gorgons, and has twins of our age."

This conversation is brain-rot—Jungkook reckons. Instead, he materializes his wand out of his PJs—satisfied to see fear painting the other's face. Despite not starting the magical school, Jungkook knows spells better than his useless second-year brother—having learned all intermediate-level charms by heart. Sometimes he wonders—how could Jungyu even be a Ravenclaw when he outright fails at memorizing combat spells? It is a shame, really. 

"Get over it and stop sacrificing my Astronomy Books for your stupid love declarations, you foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!" Jungkook swears—stance sharp, and ready to cast the Slugulus Eructo charm when their mother magically does appear.

"Expelliarmus!" Their mother flicks her wrist, sending Jungkook's wand flying across the room.

In an instant, Jungyu bolts, darting behind her like his life depends on it, tears streaming down his face. "Mumma! Kookie’s bullying me again!" he wails, clutching her skirt.

See? predictable. 

"He is making fun of me for crushing on Miss Luna, tell him how she is the best alumni of Ravenclaw, tell him, Mumma." He whines, face all slobbery and ugly as he points in his direction.

In moments like this, Jungkook struggles to believe that this crybaby is his older brother—the same brother their grandmother once declared the most promising Ravenclaw in the family. Seriously, where on earth is this so-called wisdom? Because Jungkook surely can’t see it. All he sees is drool and petulance.

"It’s Mrs. Lovegood, dear," Mother corrects. "And I believe you might have done something to make him call you out." She hums, patting Jungyu's cheek, waiting for him to spill the truth. But they'd have to wait for another Dark Lord to rise before that pixie would ever admit his mistake.

Exasperated, Jungkook takes the lead. "What will he say? I'll tell you, Mumma—he cut up another one of my Astronomy Guides for his stupid appreciation letter!"

Motther looks genuinely astonished as if this isn’t the tenth time Jungyu’s done it. Jungkook wonders if he was hit by some kind of patience spell as a baby because there’s no way anyone could endure this much torment without losing it. The miseries Jungyu subjects him to are endless, and yet here he is, still standing—without any blood on his wand.

To recall the tamest idiocrasy, this young man once spilled Gillywater all over the notes he had painstakingly written after two sleepless nights, trying to master combat spells. It might have been a forgivable accident if Jungyu—the dumbest excuse for a wizard—hadn’t tried to replace the ruined notes.

He spent an entire week in self-loathing, convinced the spells weren't working because he was a pathetic wizard. It wasn’t until later that he realized the truth: the spells failed because Jungyu had rewritten them all wrong. He cried himself to sleep over it, and the worst part? It could’ve all been avoided if his brother had just owned up to his mistake and apologized.

So Jungkook did what any wizard in his place would do—slipped some Alihotsy Draught into the great wizard's train snacks. He had to spend a month's worth of pocket money to buy them but it was worth it.

Jungyu was hysterically laughing for six hours straight—couldn't gather himself even for classes. He was even sent to detention as Miss Yolha thought Jungyu was mocking her asymmetrical neon yellow jumper—a reaction anyone would have to such a fashion disaster, Jungkook thought. But apparently, it offended her. 

Jungkook, of course, thoroughly enjoyed the chaos, rooting for his own entertainment. But that Ravenclaw wasn’t slow. Jungyu figured out it was his fine hand in the making of misery, so he teleported himself to their bedroom and ambushed him.

It was all sort and dusted after Mother intervened, but the incident still ranks highest among catastrophes his brother created.

"Jungyu, did you do that? It's not right to touch his books without permission, honey," Mother gently reprimands, caressing the boy's cloudy head.

"But Mumma, he burned my potion assignment! I was supposed to submit it right after vacation! It took me two weeks to brew, and now I only have a week left to make another one," Clutching her wrist, Jungyu rattles.

Their mother's eyes widen even further in shock. As if Jungkook would have let that slide without any payment. 

"That is not right of you Kookie, I know you are yet to start your school but how would you feel if your marks were deterred because of such a silly fight." 

"Why do you always say that, Mumma? I try just as hard to prepare for wizard academics, but you always take his side!" He crosses his arms defiantly, shooting a pitiful look at their mother. Deep down, he knows he might have pushed too far this time, but his guides are precious to him. He bought them specifically to get a head start in Divination.

He heard his cousin skinder about how Divination bloody sucks—so much so, that they merely passed the OWLs. Imagine measly passing a subject in a family where everybody is a Ravenclaw.

"You know I love both of you equally, sweetheart, but I have to guide you when you make a mistake, right? I'm not saying what Jungyu did was right, nor am I siding with him. However, what you did will cost him his score, and that's absolutely unfair, don’t you think, love?"

Once her words have sunk in, she leans down and plants a gentle and assuring kiss on Jungkook's forehead. With a soft smile, she hands him a bottle of butterbeer from the grocery bag slung over her shoulder.

"Now, why don’t you apologize to Jungyu while he does the same?" she suggests, turning her gaze to his brother, who appears a bit more relaxed but not less scared than before. 

“Calm down, boy, and come here.” 

Jungyu shifts nervously, hesitating momentarily before finally making his way over. Their mother gently ushers him closer, extending another bottle toward him. Just as he reaches for the neck, she pulls it out of reach, giving him a look. Jungyu catches on. “I’m sorry for ruining your guide,” he mumbles, glancing at her for approval.

She nods, a satisfied smile spreading across her face as she hands him the treat and ruffles his hair affectionately.

Beaming, Jungyu uncorks the bottle and takes a hearty gulp, savoring the sweet, fizzy taste. After savoring, he turns to Jungkook, patiently waiting for him to make amends.

But Jungkook just hums a noncommittal ‘sure’ and continues to sip his beverage. 

"Kookie..."

Mother’s warning tone prompts him to mutter a reluctant, “Yeah, me too.”

She sighs, "Darling, apologize properly. Jungyu is really sorry, and he’ll even replace your guide with his pocket money next month."

This catches Jungyu off guard, and he blinks wide-eyed. “I will?” he asks, his voice rising in surprise.

Jungkook’s lips curl up in a cheshire grin, "Oh, I am incredibly remorseful of my actions, big brother." he chirps.

Mother pats his back, adding, "So regretful that he’ll even stay up all night with you to help prepare the potion he burned, right, honey?"

"What?"

Effortlessly ignoring their shocked expressions, she heads to the kitchen to unload the groceries and start preparing dinner.

Jungkook and Jungyu follow her, ready to present their arguments on how neither of them was at fault and it was solely the other's mistake. However, just then an owl swoops into the living room through one of the open windows.

Without pausing, it drops a letter directly above Jungkook and exits just as quickly, disappearing within a blink, floating away with the gust of wind.

Amused for a moment with how the letter balances atop his head, Jungkook heedlessly grabs and opens it, excitement thrumming in his veins.

As he reads the first line, Mother and Jungyu together exclaim, 

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Kookie!"

He just got his Hogwarts invitation. 

Chapter Text

His entire family has invited themselves—from his grandmother to some distant uncle he’s never even met. Everyone is here, and it’s beyond embarrassing.

Why does he need an army just to board a damn train? He’s 16, for crying out loud.

“I’m sure Jungkookie will be another great Ravenclaw in our family! Those big black eyes hold so much potential!” someone exclaims from his right, but he has no idea who, and honestly, it doesn’t matter. All he can think about is how to make it to the platform without stumbling. The luggage in his trolley is no joke.

"He is such a promising wizard, right Bailey?" 

“Absolutely Hailey, I’m sure he’s going to be the Filius Flitwick of our generation. Did you see the charm he cast on Hajoon last Christmas? Goodness, that boy never dared to cross him again.”

Both reach over to pinch his cheeks—as if reminiscing that blunder wasn’t humiliating enough. Jungkook can’t help but wince; he no longer possesses the chubby cheeks of his childhood—they're pinching his delicate skin and the remnants of some fat.

"Another great Jeon in our Ravenclaw legacy." 

Another relative ruffles his hair—it took him an hour to style it—bloody perfect.

“I think your rune stones are wrong this time, Ma. Jungkook is going to be our house’s celebrated Raven,” Uncle Songmin declares, and Jungkook's heart swells at the words. Someone finally saying what he needs to hear.

He is scared shitless here. Right now is monumental—he's been preparing for today since forever, so having someone in his corner, rooting for him, feels nice. And with his dimwitted brother already hailed as the promised one, it’s a thrill to hear that maybe—just maybe—he could be even better.

As always, Grandmother says nothing in response, and no one else comments on the silence either.

Moments later, he feels an encouraging pat on his back, followed by a gentle push. “We’ve reached the wall, Kook,” Mother’s soft voice chimes in.

When Jungkook looks ahead, he sees it—the tall red brick wall between platforms 9 and 10, the very barrier he’s always dreamed about—it stands before him, just a few meters away.

Now comes the moment of separation. Jungkook turns to face his large family, each member draped in blue and silver scarves—the proud symbols of their legacy.

“All the best, Kookie! We’re proud of you!” they all cheer, one by one coming in for heartfelt hugs. Gentle, reassuring words are whispered in his ear, and he feels a rush of delight and warmth.

“Jungyu will be joining you soon, okay?” Mother tells him after a sweet embrace. “Once he finishes brewing his assignment.” She remarks with a faux sigh—eliciting a chuckle from him as she bops his nose.

She’s the last to offer her blessing, and after taking one final look at his family, he turns toward the division. With a tight grip on his luggage cart, he takes a few steps back, ready to run toward it when a familiar voice calls, “Koo, wait!”

He knows it’s Gran; she’s the only one who calls him that. “I bought you something,” she says, flicking her wand to conjure a beautifully wrapped box.

The lid opens to reveal a small lavender-colored toad, its round silver eyes glistening like pearls—specks of glitter all over the back. When Jungkook extends his hand to hold the box the toad lets out a low tribit-tribit. 

"His name is Bammie, he will keep you company." She says handing him the box.

"Thank you, Gran. I'll take care of him." With a big smile, he carefully cradles the creature close to his chest.

“No matter what happens, my love, never doubt your potential. You are a golden child, destined for greatness. Don’t let trivial things bother you. You will prosper, no matter what, aye.” She blesses him, affectionately stroking his hair. After planting one last peck on his forehead, she waves him goodbye.

He begins to walk toward the barrier, leaning forward on his cart, he breaks into a determined run. The wall looms closer and closer, and when he’s just a foot away, he closes his eyes and charges toward it at full speed.

One minute he was at Muggle station, the next on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Opening his eyes, he sees a scarlet steam engine waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. 

He has arrived at his destination.

Smoke drifts from the engine and over the heads of a bustling crowd. The students are busy finding their compartments, the owls are hooting over one another while several cats are trying to safely get back to their owners between the numerous feet.

Taking a deep breath, Jungkook pushes his cart down the platform, eyes scanning for a less crowded gate. Slithering his way through the masses of students, he reaches the second entrance. Making sure Bammie is safely tucked away in his trunk, he hefts the luggage across.

Once inside he sets off to find an empty cabin, preferably secluded, so he can revise his Magic History notes during the journey. After exploring for a bit he enters a relatively quiet compartment, there aren't many people here, just some folks dressed in pajamas? 

There's a cabin toward the end of the compartment, perfect for his needs, but for some reason, it’s closed. Undeterred, he grips the handle and opens the door without a second thought.

Inside, away from the noise and shuffling of the other students, sits a boy near the window, perhaps a tad older than him. He’s quietly chopping an aubergine with the help of his wand. It’s some fancy wand, Jungkook notices, with a bedazzled end—seems emerald. 

Caught in a daze, Jungkook’s grip on the cart loosens, and it hits the floor with a dull thud. At the sound, the most innocent and earnest pair of eyes snap up to meet his, so shiny and deep—very much like the moons Jungyu cut out of his guide.

But before he can say something, maybe stammer a greeting or flattery, he is yanked out of the cabin by the back of his robe.

"Have you lost your mind? You’re a first-year, right? You can’t just barge into Slytherin’s compartment like that," a boy with purple hair whisper-shouts in his face.

Jungkook blinks, disoriented by the sudden whiplash. Gathering his bearings after a second, he apologizes. "Sorry, I was just looking for a quiet, secluded cabin and... ended up here, I guess." He offers a sheepish smile, extending his hand in greeting. "I'm Jeon Jungkook, by the way."

"Kim Namjoon, third-year Ravenclaw," the boy introduces himself. At the same time, Jungkook notices the familiar blue and silver scarf wrapped around Namjoon’s neck. Now that he’s paying more attention, he realizes that some of the other students in the compartment are also dressed in their respective house robes—not the plain, basic robes of first-years like his own. 

Jungkook mentally kicks himself. "Oh, right," he mumbles, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"I’d advise you not to wander into places you know nothing about,” Namjoon says as he glances over his shoulder, eyes scanning the area. He mutters something under his breath that Jungkook doesn’t quite catch before pulling him away from the cabin.

“Jeon, you said, right? Where’s your brother, then? He should be with you, shouldn’t he?"

"Yeah, Jungyu. He had to stay behind to finish some assignment or something like that... but how do you know him?" Jungkook replies, clutching his luggage tightly as he tries to keep pace with the boy.

"I know everyone here; it kind of comes with the job description," Namjoon says, raising his hand to show him the circular prefect badge in the hold.

“How? I thought prefects were appointed from the third year onwards,” Jungkook asks as they step into the new carriage. It’s definitely a first-year coach; he can tell because everyone here looks either confused and nervous or visibly excited and anxious. They quickly find an empty cabin.

"I was overqualified for my year," Namjoon shrugs, helping Jungkook with his luggage. “Now, sit your ass down and, for Moaning Myrtle’s sake, don’t go exploring again. Otherwise, when we next meet, you’ll be a snail, for all I know.”

Jungkook diligently nods, taking the advice to heart. Once Namjoon is satisfied that he won’t go running off again, he bids Jungkook goodbye and heads off to assist another first-year, making sure they don’t end up as some ugly animal or a senior’s sock.

Meanwhile, Jungkook reaches for his bag to pull out the notes he intended to revise, completely forgetting about the beautiful boy he encountered earlier.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖

The first years are currently crowding in front of the enormous Oak gate, all grunting and whining for the past hour. The Professor who meant to welcome them is running late. But Jungkook is pumped and elevated nonetheless He has been yearning for this side of magic since he first saw his hopeless brother successfully perform a charm after about the 123rd try, but whatever.

The point is no amount of tardiness or adversity can dampen his spirits. He has been wanting this forever, and no force of spells or potions can sway him to believe otherwise.

Between mutterings of students, the door eventually opens with a rumbling sound to reveal an objectively short wizard clad in a heavy burgundy cloak and chevron pajama bottoms paired with…flip flops!?? Though a very weird sense of dressing, one look at the man's stern face is enough to send the message across—he is not someone to cross…ever.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," says the dainty wizard in a raspy voice, "I am Professor Min, follow me." as fast as he arrived, he takes leave—sweeping his cloak and striding towards the inside of the foyer, "Anyone left behind will be deemed lost or dead." he lets on without looking back—enough to get the whole student body rushing behind.

The hall is exactly what his manuals and books described but with the liveliness, those images could never replicate. The entrance hall is magnificently lit with flaming torches, phenomenally highlighting the murals of the ceiling and the pearly white marble steps of the staircase that lead them to the upper floors.

They follow Professor Min across the flagged stone floor—voices can be heard from a doorway to the right. The rest of the school must be already settled in, he thinks. But instead of leading them there, Professor Min shoves the first years into a small empty chamber of the hall. They huddle in, standing rather closer together than they would usually, peering around nervously.

"Given that I do appear as if I eat kittens for breakfast, it's not the case, so puff up your chest everybody, and straighten the camel backs of yours!" he commands, clapping twice with authority.

The effect of the words is almost instant, within a blink all the students grow an inch taller—their chins up, looking straight at Professor Min's face. The previous nervous atmosphere evaporating into thin air and the confident aura easily superseding. 

"I wish everyone to be joyous about their first-ever Hogwarts Banquet, at least for the meal being served." He pauses and seems to ponder for a bit while rubbing his chin, seemingly as if forgetting something. “Ah! But before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting Ceremony, which is most important, will take place in a few minutes. I suggest you all smarten yourself as much as you can while waiting."

He roams his eyes—scrutinizing every student's face—gauging which of them needs a little more smartening than the other. Jungkook subtly tries to fix his already perfect robe.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," Professor Min informs, "Please wait quietly." And with that, he turns on his heels leaving them to deal with the dread. 

Jungkook veers around to look for—

Where is it?! He remembers keeping it in the front pocket so he could—

Found it!

He shoves his hand in the bag, grabs the periwinkle-colored spiral-bound notebook—‘Do Not Lose’—the label reads, and flips through the pages. 

Somewhere in the beginning is his list of all the spells he practiced beforehand. He just needs to skim over it once, in case he needs to use any of them to make an impression. 

But before he can read the instructions of the first charm, something happens that makes him jump about a foot in the air while several people around him scream.

"What the~?"

He gasps and so do the pupils in proximity. About twenty ghosts stream through the back wall, pearly white and slightly transparent. They glide across the room talking to one another—hardly sparing the first year's a glance, busy arguing about something. One ghost who looks like Lockhart's descendant babbles—

"He hasn't dozed off for three days now, Merlin, if I wasn't a spirit I would have been bald by now, do you~"

"My dear Jinnie, I am sure Hoba will take a break soon, I can't imagine what it would be like to have consistent visions of—I say, what are you all doing here? " A ghost wearing a ruff and tights suddenly notices the first years.

Nobody answers.

"New students!" exclaims Lockhart's descendant, flashing them a charming smile. "About to be sorted, aye?"

A few people nod mutely.

"No need to be nervous folks, Sorting Hat is infamous for being unpredictable," he continues with a mischievous smile, "but it is seldom wrong, I would know after all." And starts laughing at some joke no soul cracked.

"Move along now," says a huffy voice, "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor Min steers them towards the foyer as the ghosts, one by one, float away through the opposite wall. They walk out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through double doors into the Great Hall.

At first, Jungkook thinks they are glimmering starts but walking closer he finds it's a canopy of candles floating midair. The Hogwarts student body is settled into rows of four tables—delectable appetizers on glittering golden plates and goblets full of vibrant blue beverages presented before them. At the top of the hall is another ebony table behind which all the professors are seated. 

Professor Min leads the first years up, halting them just a foot below the platform, and then silently placing a stool in the middle of the elevated ground. On the stool, he sets a pointed wizard's hat that looks patched, extremely frayed, and particularly mucky. Even though at the moment it looked like a mundane cap that had gone way too look being neglected, everyone knows better. 

With hearts lodged in their throat, all the pupils wait for it to display its trick any minute but before that could take place, a misty silver shadow comes swirling around the candles—floating in the air, extinguishing every flame in its wake. When the only source of illuminance remains the stars on the ceiling, a voice begins to sing the familiar age-old verse, 

Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!

The singing finishes as the shadow whirls around the Sorting Hat before dissipating into thin air, and the candles flame bright again. The Hat then twitches, a rip near the brim opens wide like a mouth as it bows to each four tables, before facing the first years to cheer ‘Welcome to Hogwarts!’

Consequently, the whole hall bursts into applause. 

Jungkook had never heard or read about the commencement of the ceremony in this fashion. All the guides had simply mentioned the hat singing a song, and that was it. Maybe today this moody piece of fabric was craving a change; who could say?

However, before he could delve more into the whys and hows, Professor Min steps forward holding an extremely long roll of parchment—it quite literally goes down to his feet. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted", he announces.

"Cobberstone, Jasper!"

As the prestigious ceremony kicks off, the knot of anxiety Jungkook has been trying to swallow surges up his throat. Desperate for comfort, he looks around, hoping to find anything else he can indulge in. His gaze then lands on the familiar face of Namjoon, whom he lifts his hand to wave in greeting.

But rather than receiving a wave, Namjoon gestures towards the platform with a nudge of his head. Not understanding the gesture Jungkook mouths a ‘What?’

Although, not a moment later he hears Professor Min's irritation-laden voice, "Whoever is Jeon Jungkook must come forward now or else he is welcome to home in The Forbidden Forest till next year's Sorting Ceremony."

The situation finally sinking in, Jungkook rushes ahead, stepping on the stage with rosy cheeks. Professor Min scrutinizes his being as if he were the cause of his sleepless nights, "Ah, the wide-eyed-lost Alice, you sure you want to be here boy? This is Hogwarts, not Wonderland." he quips. 

When no familiarity strikes Jungkook's demeanor, Professor Min mutters, "You’re the infamous brother of Jolly-J, aye, that lost mind was proof enough." 

However, before Jungkook can bask in the delight of finally understanding the grumpy professor's gibberish, he is ushered onto the stool, "Even though your lineage has an account of being Ravenclaw, why not double-check with this shabby stitched cap, maybe today's the day of unforeseen." Professor Min remarks while unceremoniously dropping the Sorting hat on his head, hindering half of his vision. 

As the hall gets engulfed in silence, Jungkook waits for the foreboding proclamation because he is sure his case will not need much time. What's there to dot over for a Jeon anyway, but his thinking is yet again proved wrong when a small voice utters its first word in his ear, "Ahh…another Jeon I see, should be easy to sort only if it wasn't for such a cunning mind you possess, could easily put the Malfoy's to shame, I tell you." 

Hatstall—Jungkook’s mind echoes in his ears. Never in his darkest nightmares had he imagined being a hatstall. The seconds drag on, and a bead of sweat trickles down his forehead—this is heading in a direction he definitely doesn’t want. In a desperate attempt to do some damage control, he grips the edges of the stool and whispers to himself, Not Slytherin, Not Slytherin.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" says the small voice with a hint of something canny, "Boy here wants to pull a Potter now, too bad, neither you are the chosen one nor I am the old me—”

“SLYTHERIN"

Jungkook hears the hat bellow its decision, and the entire hall erupts in laughter, shattering all the careful impressions he had hoped to make. His cheeks burn with embarrassment as he yanks off the Bitch Hat and stumbles toward the Slytherin table.

But at the last moment, a surge of defiance courses through him, and he moves his feet toward the Ravenclaw table instead. Wordlessly, he pulls out a chair and sinks into it across from Namjoon, who wears an expression of sympathetic understanding. 

After wallowing in self-pity for a moment, Jungkook lifts his gaze to find Namjoon waiting to console him. But his focus shifts suddenly to someone sitting behind Namjoon. Bloody Merlin, he thinks—it's the stunning boy from the wrong cabin, looking all dreamy and effortlessly pretty. Those luscious blond curls frame his face perfectly—parted over the forehead at some places, highlighting his strong brows. The eyes were what dazed Jungkook earlier, just like now—glowing sunshine and ambers. The sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones contrast beautifully with the softness of his nose and cheeks, so harmonious. It's almost oxymoronic—how his hooded gaze plays with Jungkook's poor mind while the gentle smile the boy passes, effortlessly grapples with his heart.

The aura the boy exudes does justice to the green scarf wrapped around his neck—captivating and mesmerizing. Even in a hall filled with magic and charms, it's the boy that's a sight for Jungkook's sore eyes. 

However, his staring gets cut short when a clink of glass echoes through the hallway.

"Welcome," says Headmistress Hayek standing proud on the High Table with an empty wine glass and spoon in her grasp, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would request Professor Jung to please reveal this year's prophecy."

Oh yes, he remembers.

Ever since the Potter Era faded into memory, Hogwarts has felt eerily devoid of entertainment. A decade ago, when Professor Hayek took over as headmistress, she recognized the need for something to liven up the school spirit. Her first act was to establish the annual divination tradition. The idea was simple: create a leisure event for students to anticipate, something to spark conversations and laughter.

It wasn’t necessarily a serious affair. Once, Professor Jung’s prophecy involved the shattering of glass and dire consequences, but in reality, it was just a humorous premonition about Danniel Longbottom accidentally breaking her Great-Grandma’s prized china set, leading to him being exiled from her house. Another year, a prophecy hinted at a catastrophic fire in the Forbidden Forest, which turned out to be a near miss, skillfully averted by Professor Yolha’s quick thinking.

The crux of the matter is that the prophecy could mean anything—it might serve as a warning of impending doom or simply comment on a student’s misplaced homework. The unpredictability is what keeps everyone on their toes.

"Greetings, the new students that have joined us today," Professor Jung cheers, welcoming them with a warm smile. "I won't take much of your time as you all might be starving to gobble the Roasted Chicken and Yorkshire Puddings. Oh, also my personal favorite, the Peppermint Humbugs." the whole hall erupts in offense at the mention of abhorring delicacy. Professor Jung, evidently pulling their leg, breaks into a fit of laughter.

"Come on it's not that bad," he tries to bargain but all he receives is passive silence, "Okay, maybe a bit eccentric in taste, but whatever, we have more important matters at hand." 

With a playful eye roll, he reaches into the wide sleeve of his magenta cloak to retrieve his wand. He mutters the Summoning Spell under his breath, and a parchment materializes in his palm. But that’s not the most captivating part; the real attention-grabber is the way the golden embroidery on his cloak sparkles and shimmers with every swirl and flick of his wand. 

It’s a simple spell, yet the flair with which he performs brings everyone to the edge of their seats.

Jungkook had never seen anything akin to this mysticism before, noticing the question on the tip of his tongue Namjoon whispered in his ears, "Professor Jung is not just any Divination Teacher, it's word around the street that his soul is shared with an ancient spirit that resides between the walls of Hogwarts. Nobody knows what exactly it looks or sounds like but everybody believes the fables are true. You can look for it yourself, that man does not just cast magic, magic is intertwined with his soul, with his mate. Hence, the sparkling and shimmering." 

And if this is not sorcery at its fineness he doesn't know what will be, it's easy to conclude at this point that some major blocks were missing in his guides and papers because how could someone write a book titled Hogwarts Room of Requirement: A Guide to Know all about the Magical School and not mention this dazzle. But of course, the publishers have to keep the unpredictable occurrences out of their text, or else what fun is it to know every turn of events beforehand? 

"I will perform my trick soon but I ought to offer the portent that the prophecy could have been accomplished the moment you all stepped into the gates of this school so don't take it to heart if nothing unexpected happens but also don't give up on the unraveling for it might have been yet to transpire." With those as Professor Jung's final words, the hall once again engulfs in the shadows. 

A low timber humming reaches Jungkook’s ears as the High Table glistens due to the light emitting from Professor Jung's essence. The embroidery that was glowing golden prior, now gets filled with moonlight silver while the wood of the tip of his wand cracks a little. With halted breath, everyone beholds as the wand's core—Unicorn Hair—floats in front of them, never fully abandoning its vessel. Professor Jung winks at the students before closing his eyes and reveals the divination.

One is hiding, one is finding,
Both of their souls are intertwined.

A mistake at the hands of pride will keep them binding,
If one efforts to keep them aligned.
Don’t forget you are a fated child,
The words that go around don’t matter.
What’s proven the worth is what’s inside,
The blood in your veins is only water.

One is hiding, one is finding.
Both of their souls are intertwined...

The words linger in the air, and the parchment in Professor Jung's hand engraves the prophecy on its skin. Soon the lights glow bright again and he begins to look more human than enchantment. With the last phrase leaving his mouth, he opens his eyes and smiles at them, "Well, it was fun." he says, and the hall fills with applause. 

“He’s my favorite in all of Hogwarts! You’ll never catch him slipping; he’s simply the best,” Namjoon exclaims, clapping the loudest in the room, and Jungkook looks at Professor Jung with starry eyes; maybe he’s found an idol for himself as well.

Chapter Text

"There look…"

" Where?"

"Next to Joon…"

"The one with big eyes?"

"Yeah, did you know the Sorting Hat pulled his leg big time…"

.

.

.

It has been going on like this for two weeks now, and Jungkook is bloody pissed. 

He wanted to be recognized, but not like this. The stunt the Sorting Hat pulled made him the talk of Hogwarts in all the wrong ways. He remembers reading that the hat was supposed to be sarcastic, not snarky. Old age must have taken its toll—maybe it’s time to retire. Is there a suggestion box somewhere? Jungkook could be a responsible student and submit ideas for Hogwarts' betterment, starting with firing the old hag.

Speaking of letters, he could even write one to the cranky headwear itself and give it a piece of his mind. But then, he’d need an owl. And how would the hat even read it—hats don’t have hands?

Didn’t Namjoon mention something about the Hat having a spirit?

"Don't mind it too much," Namjoon tells him as they pull the chairs. "They are just rolling with the latest thing in the air, you know Hogwarts has been barren since the Potter era. Let them have fun, try not to take it to heart yeah. Who knows maybe you’all become friends down the road." 

Yeah, yeah, look at the positive side and all. He respects Joon—the boy is simply the best, however, why can’t he see the problem? This whole fiasco could be avoided simply if the bitch didn’t use it’s mouth. All he did was just think to sorted into Ravenclaw, just think —now would Mins be humiliated if they thought of Griffindor too. It’s their house, and so is Ravenclaw for Jungkook. 

In hindsight, he feels the Hat wanted to assert dominance—regain its grip on the sorting ceremony maybe. He doesn’t know, it’s lanky and ancient anyway.

"But Joonie, I spent my teens getting ready for my grand entrance in Hogwarts. I refuse to be the victim of that cockroach’s shenanigans." Not to be dramatic, but he did commit his summers of youth to learn advanced magic—spells, potions, charms, even jinx, name it. Looking back it all seems a colossal waste of happy hours. He could have been making sandcastles instead. But it’s not the biggest problem. The thing that pisses him the most is—

"You know my brother, right? Even that Gremlin is in Ravenclaw then why, for Merlin's sake, did I get sorted into Slytherin, my whole family has been a Ravenclaw." he cries out, slumping his head on the table with a muted thud. 

The students at the adjacent desk shoot them dirty looks, clearly annoyed by the disruption in the library. Jungkook, however, can’t care less. He kept his head down, trying to dull the low throbbing in his forehead—he went full swing onto the table. Meanwhile, Namjoon, ever the considerate one, offers a quick, apologetic nod before turning back towards his sulking figure. 

"I don't think it a mistake if you ask me, and before you say otherwise, hear me out." Namjoon remarks. He doesn’t add anything to it for a few seconds, rather takes a deep breath, and opens a book titled ‘ One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi’. Jungkook rolls his eyes at the dramatics and ushers him to get on already. 

Namjoon clicks his tongue, clearly disappointed by the interruption, but still dives into his advice, “You mention your brother being in Ravenclaw despite not fitting the mold, and then there's you. But let’s be fair—if there’s one thing the Sorting Hat gets right, it’s doing its job. You really think it would've kept this up for centuries if it wasn’t sharp at what it does?”

Jungkook opened his mouth—ready to retort, but Namjoon raised a hand to stop him. “And about Jungyu—sure, he might seem like he’s got his head in the clouds, but trust me, he’s pretty intelligent. Ever wonder why we all call him Jolly-J? Nicknames around here don’t come from nothing, they are earned, Jungkook. Your brother once spent a whole night in the Forbidden Forest with nothing but his wand, a notebook, and a poorly brewed invisibility potion to learn about Mooncalves.” 

Jungkook snickers, that does sound like Jungyu—potions surely aren’t his area of expertise.

“Professor Min was so furious to find him dozing off on some tree’s branch, the next day, that too unprotected. When he woke up, his first words were— Mooncalves are ugly, but Miss Luna loves them, so will I —and went back to doz.” Namjoon could no longer keep his amusement at bay—a small laugh escaped his mouth. “Whatever you have to say, Jolly-J does have eager curiosity running through him—that’s what Ravenclaw is all about.”

“You're aware his curiosity would have been quenched by any of Newt Scamander’s books, right?”

And without missing a beat Namjoon says, “I always believed intelligence can be acquired at any age.”

They both huff a snort—can’t afford to piss any more students and be kicked out.

“You are creative with your insults—I’ll always come to you to trash talk my brother now.” Jungkook mumbles between light laughter, wiping away the wetness from his eyes. The swiftness and poker face with which Namjoon spoke, made his stomach hurt.

"I am not one to trash talk, but being roommates with Jungyu gives me some privileges, I guess.” 

“You roommates with my brother!??”

A few heads turn their way—this time Jungkook quickly lowers his voice, ducking his head with a rushed apology before looking up with wide eyes. “Explain!” he hisses.

However, Namjoon just shrugs, “Who do you think brewed Jolly that invisibility potion? And in my defense we only had like two potion classes—invisibilty is intermediate. I tried my best.”  

Jungkook slumps back in his chair because damn, Jungyu has Namjoon as his roommate and he still learned nothing from him. There is no hope for brother, truly. Should he write to Granny—ask if there’s a chance her rune stones are mistaken—Jungyu is a cry for help, no way near the most promising Raven he’s supposed to be.

Thinking about Ravenclaw—

“Joon, forget about my brother—help me out here. Give me some hope of being sorted right.” He needs to act fast; he’s not trying to be dramatic, but he sure as hell doesn’t have ‘the cunning mind that could put the Malfoys to shame.’ His future will be as nonexistent as a Dementor’s soul if he doesn’t end up in the right house soon.

"You can ask Sorting Hat itself." Namjoon offers.

"What do you mean?" 

“It’s a long shot, but you could try writing a letter addressed to the Sorting Hat or its spirit,” Namjoon says, his voice lowering toward the end. “But delivering it would be daunting. No one’s ever heard from the spirit before.”

He makes a questioning sound, urging Namjoon to elaborate, “I read that the spirit is a myth, but we’re studying at a magical school, so what really is impossible? I mean, the scripts I referenced seemed pretty confident.”

“Spirit, you say…” Jungkook murmurs, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “How about I ask Professor Jung? You did mention he’s one of the most powerful diviners alive, right? If anyone knows about this stuff, it’s him.”

"Yeah, you could try, but I won't keep my hopes high because it is kind of outlandish. I mean, if I was you, I would rather let it be. Isn't there always something great in unprecedented events?"  

Jungkook clicks his tongue and tilts his head slightly, a sly grin forming. “That’s the thing, my dear Joonie,” he says slowly, his eyes gleaming with a sharpness Namjoon’s only ever seen in Parseltongues. “I’m not like you. I’ll make that Bitch Hat confess it was wrong this time. If it messed up my shot at a spotless reputation, then I’ll be the red ink on its perfect record.”

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖

tri-bit…tri-bit

"Yes, Bammie, just hold on a minute longer, please," Jungkook pleads. His poor companion hasn’t been out of the box since morning—he must be cursing him in his head—and rightfully so. Bammie ended up with one of the most scatterbrained caretakers for his simple needs. But today has been so stressful for Jungkook that he’s genuinely surprised he hasn’t collapsed himself.

He’d been on his feet all morning. After parting ways with Namjoon, he’d scoured every corner of Hogwarts in search of someone generous enough to lend him their owl. The school birdies haven’t been back from their grooming center and as much as he adore his sweet Bammie—one of the most reliable creatures around—there was no way the little guy could manage a letter twice the size of his head.  

And Namjoon’s owl, Ya-Ol, is too intellectual to do such a belittling chore. She’d rather learn to hoot in Draconic than fly across Hogwarts.

So, now with the sun long set, he is yet to find a single senior willing to let him borrow their pets. What struck him as odd, though, was the reaction he kept getting—every time he mentioned sending a letter to Professor Jung, people seemed genuinely taken aback, almost as if he’d suggested mailing something to the Headmaster’s cat instead. 

Students write to professors all the time, don’t they?

Anyways, since finding a mailbirdie sucks ass, he decided to write the letter first. No point running around like a headless chicken without something to actually send. Which brings him to his current predicament—struggling to balance Bammie’s Box, a packed lunch, a stack of parchments, several quills, three different ink pots, and a book thick as Merlin’s beard titled Hogwarts Thesaurus for Impressive Writing Skill —all precariously crammed into his two aching arms.

"Yeah Kook, just three steps more. You can do it." He mumbles to himself, trying to motivate. But as Murphy's Law has it, everything speeds to disaster within seconds. 

Finally fed up with his attempt at being a tightrope walker, Bammie leaps into his box with full force, causing the lid to slam against Jungkook’s chin and sending all the items tumbling down to the floor. Seeing the fall to be too painful, Jungkook closes his eyes—and waits for his bones to kiss the ground. But when, even after a minute, he hears no sound of crashing, he opens his eyes. 

And finds everything suspended midair. 

It shouldn't be a novelty—seeing objects flying as he lives in a wizarding world. However, it is not every day to see them floating midair without any spell casting. Bloody hell! Are his parchments and quills enchanted? What if the book he brought from the library is a horcr- 

"Don't run your mind too much, pretty, I saved your ass."

Galloping Gragons! It can talk too? What did he get himself into? He internally curses the Bitch Hat, at least right about one thing. If some Voldemort-wannabe decided to relive history, he wouldn’t last five seconds with a thunder-shaped scar on his forehead.

Wait, what was that spell he learned to teleport? Or did he even learn one? What if there wasn’t one? Maybe he could turn invisible instead, just vanish on the spot—

"Look to your right before doing anything dumb, stud." 

Numb to the bones, he turns his gaze left. 

All the hysteria deludes to nothing as his eyes land on someone by the gateway. A boy with merry eyes and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass stands casually at the doorway, his shoulder propped against the frame and a wand spinning effortlessly between his fingers. The smirk playing on his lips makes it obvious he’s the one who prevented the disaster, and the glimmer of amusement in his eyes suggests he’s all too aware of Jungkook’s frazzled thoughts.

"I advise closing your mouth unless Food Fly is your favorite from Bertie Bott's." the boy, Chubby-Chuck , impishly remarks, "No judgment if that's the case though, everybody has their peculiarities." and shrugs.

They stare at each other in complete silence. However, when even after the halted minutes Jungkook doesn't display any plan of moving or speaking, Chubby-Chuck comments, "Are you practicing to become a mime artist or something?" 

tri-bit…tri-bit 

Instead of Jungkook, it's Bammie who responds—jumping inside the box that is still suspended in the air. Chubby-Chuck looks at the box suddenly remembering what triggered the conversation in the first place.

"I am not even surprised." he sighs with an exhausted voice, "Some of you students just want the companion part of nurturing these precious pets, and altogether forgetting that you have to look after them too, tell me, boy, were you planning on letting your toad breathe anytime soon." He walks towards the box, carefully keeping it on the table nearby. "Poor fella looks like strangling you if you don't open the lid within the next few seconds." and opens the lid to finally release Bammie from his breathing box.

His toad hops off the table—letting out another small tri-bit and strolling around a little. Pleased to see Bammie romping with the fallen quill, Chubby-Chuck then turns his attention towards Jungkook's frozen form, "If you think it's a good mime act, please quit. You are terrible at it." 

He proceeds to grab each one of the suspended items to keep them on the table too.

Jungkook swears he gets what the Slytherin is saying. He’s been hyper-aware of his surroundings from the start, but somehow, his body isn’t playing along. It’s like his brain is firing off signals to act, but everything below his shoulders is flat-out ignoring the command. It feels as though some invisible force is holding him in place, trapping his limbs in a stubborn rebellion against his will.

"“You’ve got a really beautiful toad—I never knew they came in lavender. I have to say, even though I don’t entirely agree with your methods of raising him, he’s remarkably well-groomed. You know, toads lose their color if they’re not cared for properly, and yours is as vibrant as ever. So, I’m guessing the forgetfulness of letting him out regularly is just an oversight on your part?” He tilts his head, examining the toad curiously. “But seriously, did you cast some sort of spell on him? How is he this shiny?”" 

When the last item is finally secured on the table, Chubby-Chuck spins around, irritation etched across his face. “Are you going to say anything?” he snaps, voice laced with impatience. “I promise, pets are just a sensitive topic for me. But now that I see your toad is well-groomed, I’m not going to bite.” He crosses his arms over his chest, tapping his foot expectantly.

"I... c-can’t,” Jungkook somehow manages—voice strangled as if being choked—a lone tear slipping down his cheek.

At the sight of wetness, all the irritation leaves Chubby-Chuck's body. However, by the time he rushes forward Jungkook loses consciousness and the world fades to black.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖

Everything is heavy—too heavy to even shift or make a move. 

It feels as if someone is holding him beneath the depths of the ocean, the crushing weight of the water pressing down on his fragile body. He can hear a voice calling out, but it’s too muffled to discern any words or sense of direction. Is it the sound of a siren? He remembers reading about them long ago in the tales of mythical beings that haunted Hogwarts. But if that’s the case, why is he not feeling drawn to follow it? Instead, he fells a powerful urge to… wake up?

Open your eyes pretty, it's a dream, the herbs are making you hallucinate.

But it is light, the water feels nice around his body—maybe he can sleep it out. The suffocation is loose now, he can sense his fingers and toes but the tongue and eyelids are still heavy.

You just need to open your eyes, I promise you'll feel better.

The voice is promising and promises can't be broken, right? He'll feel better, he just needs to…wake up—

The light is blinding against his sensitive eyes, and though he can’t open them, he senses the bright glow and the movement of shadows dancing above his closed eyelids. A striking pain travels from his temples down to his calves. He is no longer underwater so it's good. He can breathe, too, more than he could before, and he takes a deep lungful of air to compensate for all the breaths he lost. But it’s too much too soon, and he’s soon caught in a fit of coughing, gasping as his body struggles to adjust.

"Easy there stud, your body still needs to recover from the restriction. Try to take steady short breaths instead of inhaling like whales." 

Restriction? What does the voice mean by that? 

Speaking of voice, it's now clear too, as if the source is near him. On the left side to be precise. Also, the cold looming feeling that was tingling his skin before is no longer there, instead, when he tries to feel the surrounding with his palms, it is soft warm fabric.

"You can move your hand—that’s a relief. What about your toes, are they still numb or can you sense them?"

Toes? Yeah, he can feel them, wiggle sure. His body is marginally light too.

He tries to open his eyes again. Slowly peel his one eyelid away from another. And the first thing he sees when his vision begins to clear is a face.

A big ass face right in front of his eyes—Jungkook screeches.

The face recoils at his ear-piercing scream, clearly not expecting Jungook to have revived the ability to shout so soon.

"Where am I?" he questions, on the verge of running off, even if his body might not favour him. 

He expects some answers but instead of those he gets a satisfied smile blooming on other’s lips. All things considered, he thinks it’s bloody creepy to have a weirdo grinning over him just after he let out an inhuman shriek.

"Good to know you can speak too. No, don't look at me like that. I am no swine. Do you not remember my face? Come on, it was just a slip of casting, you can't suffer from amnesia because of it." 

Face? Slip of casting?

Ah —t's all coming back, with full force. The stationary hoarding, Bammie being Moaning Myrtle's kin, and him tripping on air like a clown. Along with the conspiracies about quills and ink pots flying as if he isn't a wizard himself and some boy saving his ass from the catastrophe. What was that he named him? Chubby-Chuck . He is pretty sure it’s the same boy who his body seizing up.

It all comes back.

"You are Chubby-Chuck." is the first thing Jungkook’s drug-induced brain decides to spew. 

"Well, I am pretty sure my lads named me Park Jimin, but Chubby-Chuck is cute, so I'll let it slide. Should I give you a nickname too?" , Jimin says all in one breath, "And to answer your question, you are in my room, but do tell me what you feed yourself because my arms almost gave out trying to carry you!"  

Jimin slithers like a snake on his chair—the joints of his backbone pop, and Jungkook feels bad for him. It must have been one hell of a task to drag him all the way from Slytherin Common Room to here. Slumped on his chair in deep thought, Jimin stares at him, gaze never leaving his face.

"Ah, what about Raven Rock?" Jimin suddenly exclaims, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Forgetting all about his back pain, he jumps up from his seat, ecstatic about his new christening.

But the gleeful delight soon morphs into dread because— 

"Hey, hey Raven, why are you crying, stud? Sorry, if you didn't like the name. We can absolutely drop it, no pressure." 

All this lays on dead ears as Jungkook's quivering chin turns into wailing, leaving Jimin even more dumbfounded.

"I promise, I am not mad at you for breaking my back, it was my fault that you ended up like this. I assure you I am not this bad at casting spells as easy as Arresto Momentum but I panicked seeing your beautiful face about to be planted on the floor. Also your pet—Bammie, right? He was so distressed that I had to do something. Your Bammie is all safe if you’re worried about him. I gave him water and—" 

Jimin continues to ramble to comfort Jungkook, yet, he once again gets cut off by another bellow.

"We just met, and even you think I should be in Ravenclaw, then why doesn’t that ancient, barely-living hat not know it?” Jungkook moans, his frustration spilling over. “Does it expect me to tattoo Ravenclaw on my forehead now?” 

He knows he’s being overly dramatic, and that the hallucinogens are to blame for his wild thoughts, but what else can he do but cry? His poor heart and fragile mind are at their breaking point. He can’t take it anymore.

Jimin’s expression shows that he’s struggling to make sense of the slurred words spilling from Jungkook's intoxicated tongue. The young man only grows more perplexed with each passing moment. “Raven—sorry, whatever your name is—I really appreciate you confiding in me about your troubles. Even though I can’t make heads or tails of your ramblings, I’m pretty sure I’ve never called you Ravenclaw. I mean, I’d be a fool to do so when you got the emerald scarf and serpent emblem glaring at every retina, won't I?"

"But-but you called me Raven, " Jungkook sputters, still riding his emotional high.

"Yeah, because your crystal ball eyes are black, raven also means black, you know." Jimin patiently explains, leaving Jungkook more mortified with every word.

And as the chronic eloquent disease that he possesses, Jungkook opens his mouth to express, "Oh…" His lips puckered like a Niffler.

"Yeah, oh. But keeping your dramatics aside for a minute," Jimin waves his hand at Jungkook's offended squeak along with passing a look of you know it's true, "I am keenly interested in your Ravenclaw tale, it seems to be a serious problem, so spill. But before that tell me your name, Raven."

Jungkook knows that sharing his latest misery with someone he barely knows might not be the smartest move. What if Jimin is tight with the very group of buffoons who corner him from time to time? That would be a disaster waiting to happen. But he can’t shake the fact that, instead of mocking him, Jimin took the time to patiently explain the meaning behind Raven. Plus, the kid saved his life less than an hour ago. Maybe it’s worth taking the chance.

"Umm…my name is Jungkook." he starts—a little bit unsure, "and the Bitch—sorry, I mean, the Sorting Hat may or may not have mistaken in sorting me into Slytherin." 

With eyes closed, he waits for Jimin to burst into laughter and tell him how much of a fool Jungkook is to question the ancient way of sorting but nothing like that happens. Moments of silence pass, and Jungkook opens his eyes to see Jimin contemplating his words—no trace of humor on his face. 

"And why do you think so?" the other boy finally asks—wordlessly passing him a bowl of Honey Apples, when his stomach rumbled.

"Have you heard of the Raven Ranger Family before?" Jungkook inquiries while stuffing his face with the fruit. 

"Yeah, the part of House's Pureblood Family League, right? They run in the same block as Slytherin Pureblood Madhouse, Grandiose Gryffindor Gang and what was the name of the Hufflepuff family? I always forget that one." 

"Hufflepuff Min Masters," Jungkook fills in for Jimin.

"Hmm—that's the name but what about it?"

"I was the youngest Ranger, but not anymore, thanks to that bloody fabric—it sorted me into Slytherin instead." 

After the bomb finally drops it is complete silence, nobody speaks a word until Jimin blinks, breaking his stupor, to articulate, "Well that explains your dramatics before." 

They both cackle at that—he’s happy to find the boy isn’t a bully.

"So Jeon Jungkook, what do you plan now?" Jimin inquires, maintaining his interest in Jungkook's suffering.

"I am thinking of writing a letter to Sorting Hat, for some explanation and all. I do have a way to get myself read. I just need to write a letter to Professor Jung first, ask him for something regarding that."

Jungkook feels confident that it’s a foolproof plan; with only the spirit as a variable, it shouldn’t be too strenuous. But he can't shake the feeling that there’s something every other student at Hogwarts knows that he doesn’t. Jimin is giving him that same look he’s seen on everyone else’s faces when he asks them to lend him their owl to deliver his letter.

Seeing the question clear in Jungkook's eyes, Jimin informs, "Raven, you know getting hands-on with Professor Jung is impossible, right?"

What?

"Professor Jung is not only one of the most powerful Diviners and Wizard alive, but also Head of Slytherin House and one of the council ministers. If you want to snag a moment of his time, you'll need something more than a well-drafted letter and a beautiful owl to persuade him."

Wow, great! Absolutely bonkers—another hurdle in what was supposed to be a simple plan. Why didn’t Namjoon mention this when we were hashing it out in the library? It seems he needs to give the boy a piece of his mind. What if he never met Jimin? All his effort would have been in vain because the busy Professor probably wouldn't read the letter. That nincompoop intellectual Ravenclaw.

"But my roommate, Taehyung, might have something that will guarantee your letter won't miss Professor Jung's eye." Jimin supplies, "If you want, I will talk to him for you, just come by tomorrow."

Now, ain't Jimin an angel.

"Really! Jimin, where are your feet? Let me worship you. Surely, I'll come, without a doubt. I'll be here the second my classes end. Wait, which year are you in?" Jungkook asks because he is sure Jimin is not in the first year, or else they would have encountered each other in one of the classes by now. 

"Aish, no need of any worshiping—and I am in my third year. I'll be free by the time you wrap up your classes, stop by then. Also, do you have any idea what you'll be writing in that letter? Even if Professor Jung happened to open your letter nothing would be accomplished if it's just you crying over being sorted into Slytherin, it has to be a crisp letter. So, if you have got nothing prepared as of now, I'll suggest you do it before meeting me tomorrow." 

True—he can’t just consider it a victory when Professor Jung receives his letter. He needs it to be read and taken seriously, too. Maybe he’ll even ask Namjoon for a few pointers to ensure his message comes across the right way.

"Yeah, sure, I'll prepare some notes beforehand. Thank you for your help, really Jimin. You are a darling." 

"Nah, don't sweat it, Raven. You are lucky that you are cute or else I might have just let your face be floored." Jimin jokes, though his eyes hold the acknowledgment, "Now move your ass back to your room because my roomie will be here any minute, and I don't want him to see a stranger sleeping on his bed. It'll be my last day alive if it happens." 

"This is not your bed?" Jungkook squeaks while hurriedly getting off the bed. “You are a menace Jimin! And it's my conclusion within an hour of meeting you– What? Stop grinning, and get me my stuff, I need to get the hell out before your roommate comes."

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖

Was it the 11th stair left or the 8th one down? 

Maybe it was the 30th one across the 2nd floor? 

It was definitely the narrow one on the top. 

Merlin! What’s the point of having 142 staircases when none of them function like a proper staircase? When he read about the not-so-straightforward staircase in second grade, he was fascinated by the concept. Imagine how cool it would be to step on a staircase that leads you to a random room, or even somewhere completely different on a Friday. And a vanishing-step staircase? Perfect for getting back at someone.

But his naive self didn’t realize that one day in the distant future, he’d be rushing with his hands full of quills, parchment, and little Bammie to get to the dorm, only to end up sleeping on the floor outside because the Weeping Watcher wouldn’t let him in if he was even a second late. And these same stairs would be to blame.

If only Jimin hadn’t forced him to stop by the infirmary before going to his room, he would be asleep by now.

Jungkook feels too exhausted to even think about finding the right way. The adrenaline in his body has finally worn off, and all the stress his muscles endured from that miscasting is catching up to him, along with a headache from the aftereffects of the herbs. Honestly, the bloody staircase can go feed itself to a Romanian Dragon. He’ll take the first step of whatever staircase he finds; it’s better to sleep on the cold ground than to be knocked out from fatigue.

There goes his soft bed and peaceful sleep of the night. 

But before he can take a step forward, a deep voice suddenly rumbles through the otherwise silent hallway. "I wouldn’t take that one if I wanted to live a little longer, but you can go ahead if you’ve never seen Cerberus." Jungkook wrinkles his face in confusion. Cerberus? He’s pretty sure he’s heard that name before. 

As if sensing his thoughts, the voice speaks again, this time even louder: "You know, the three-headed giant dog."

In fright, Jungkook shivers from head to toe, once again dropping his belongings on the catching ground along with losing his footing and falling. 

Today doesn't seem like his day at all. 

But unlike earlier, this time all the quills, ink pots, and parchments hit the ground—except for him—because a strong hand around his waist stabilizes him before that can happen. As Jungkook lifts his head to look at the godsend who just saved him, the floor seems to slip out from under his feet.

Metaphorically, of course.

It’s not a godsend that came to his rescue, but the Veela himself. The same boy Jungkook couldn’t help but keep his eyes on during the Sorting Ceremony. Up close, the boy’s sunset eyes glow like burning embers, and even the thick black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose can’t diminish the light they hold. Jungkook doesn’t even know his name, but he would literally kidnap all the stars to keep them in those eyes.

He swears he’s a chatty person; keeping a lid on his tongue is an art he’s never mastered. But at this moment, all the words have fled his mind. Nothing conjures in his jumbled thoughts except for one word: stunning. Yet voicing his admiration feels daunting. How can he call someone beautiful when the word itself falls short at the boy's feet? No language or collection of words could ever do justice to what Jungkook wishes to say.

So he at least lets his eyes behold the allure. He’d let his tongue have the privilege sometimes another.

"Want help with wherever you were headed while taking the obvious wrong staircase?" Jungkook feels the words on his face before he even hears them, making him scramble to his feet and stand a foot away from the boy, just in case his heart is too loud for any closer proximity.

It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to gather his thoughts, and all he manages to respond with is a mortifying “Yeah.”

The crack in the h is just the cherry on top of Jungkook’s growing pile of embarrassments. Is there any spell that makes the ground tear open and swallow the caster? He’d like to know because being buried deep in the earth sounds better than facing this humiliation. But maybe this circus is amusing to the boy, as the corner of his heart-shaped lips tugs upward, on the left side, right where a mole sits on his bottom lip.

Jungkook’s eyes widen when the smirking boy steps closer. Unable to handle the proximity, he shyly ducks his head. He steals a second to tame his raging pulse, but his efforts go in vain when two slender fingers touch the burning skin under his chin, lifting his head.

Urging him to face his impending doom.

“Will you tell me where, darling?” the boy whispers in the quiet of the night, but somehow Jungkook hears him over the throbbing in his ears. If it were humanly possible, his cheeks would burst with more carmine than crimson, feeling the vibration of the voice deep inside his chest.

The smirk is now replaced with a gentle smile cajoles him to mumble, “Slytherin first-year chambers,” words spoken in a tone so soft they barely rise above the sound of rustling leaves. The boy nods his head once, indicating that Jungkook’s hushed tones have been heard, before extending his hand forward.

Jungkook painfully descends his sight towards the movement, the hands holding Bammie’s Box with the toad blissfully sleeping inside the glass herbarium.

 “I saved him from the fall too.”

Jungkook’s eyes again flicker toward the placate feature as he takes hold of the box, sharing a beholden smile of his own. 

Nothing more transpires between them as the boy wordlessly turns on his feet before looking over his shoulder once, and taking the third staircase to the right, silently urging him to follow. 

And Jungkook with his dopey countenance, does as told. 

Chapter Text

"The class is dismissed." 

The moment Professor Yoon utters those words every student collectively shuts their book— A Memoire of Medieval Ruins —making her roll her eyes at their striking enthusiasm. Even though Jungkook loves to be aware and well-versed, he would totally take up the opportunity to banish the subject forever. 

It's exhausting and time-wasting in his opinion. Why would anybody like to inject their brain with years of build or the reason for which these establishments are wrecked? It happened in the past. Let it stay there. No need to tell the future generation how a dumb boy opened the wrong door and the safety enchantment around the castle broke, leaving it in ruins. 

At least their next class, Potions, is one he thoroughly enjoys, taught by none other than Professor Moody Min. It was only a few days ago that Jungkook found out he’s the Head of Hufflepuff. It might not be big news to most, but for him, it was definitely more surprising than learning that the sweet, sunny Professor Jung was the Head of Slytherin. How is that even possible? He would have never guessed that someone as capricious as Professor Min would belong to the gentle, caring Hufflepuff.

Maybe he isn't the only one the Bitch Hat sorted wrong. 

But he certainly has no time to spiral into cursing the Sorting Hat as he has to trek all the way across the second wing to the herbarium since Professor Min scheduled today's class there. It’s already a challenge that his sleep-deprived brain is terrible at directions. Last night was proof of that. If it weren't for Veela’s help, he would’ve been dead meat by now. The boy made sure Jungkook was guided correctly, going so far as to drop him off at his room. Another shocker that day was that nobody questioned Veela’s presence in the first-year corridor—maybe he was a frequent visitor or practically owned the place. 

Who knows. 

Jungkook’s only regret is that he forgot to ask the pretty boy for his name. Perhaps he could ask Namjoon; he did say he knows everyone at Hogwarts. Surely, someone as beautiful as Veela must be popular.

Luckily, it’s Namjoon’s Herbology class right now, which means his group will be assisting freshers with potion ingredients today. So, without wasting any more time, Jungkook collects his belongings and makes a beeline toward the greenhouse.

"Since this is the second time you all have come here for potions, I reckon starting with something simple would be the best idea, given that most of you knuckleheads have a habit of knocking over pots left and right," Professor Min comments, his gaze conveniently lingering in the general direction of Josie Crabble. To be fair, his concern is understandable—no one wants Josie to accidentally trigger yet another Mandrake’s fatal cry.

"Today, we are going to brew the Wiggenweld Potion, which is quick and manageable. So, up on your feet, everybody!" He claps twice, the sound echoing through the chamber as shoes shuffle against the floor. "Pair up with whichever senior you find tolerable enough, and brew 20 vials of the potion for the infirmary. All ingredients should be freshly extracted, and the third years will assist you with the process. Now, shoo!"

With that Professor Min dismisses them to work while he walks towards the chair for his daily-mid-class nap. 

Jungkook scans the room, searching for a particular Ravenclaw, and sure enough, Namjoon is already waving when their eyes meet across the chamber. With a giddy smile, Jungkook jogs over to the third-year student.

"So, which one do you prefer—Horklump Juice or Dittany Leaves?" Namjoon asks as soon as Jungkook reaches him.

"I guess I’ll go with the Dittany," Jungkook replies cheerfully, grabbing the potted Dittany from the table and carefully plucking the leaves while avoiding the poisonous thorns along the stems. He tries to keep his bubbling excitement in check.

It lasts exactly seven-point-eight minutes before he bursts out, "I found a way to deliver!"

It’s a record that he managed to hold back for seven minutes. After all, he’s spent weeks searching for anything that could help him get this done, and now all that’s left is to write the letter, meet Jimin and his friend Taehyung, and deliver it. That’s it.

Which is exactly why he has no control over the words tumbling out of his mouth.

But Namjoon doesn't seem to share the same excitement. Instead of an equally enthusiastic reaction, all Jungkook gets is a mumbled, "The top leaves are fresh."

And it’s accurate to say Jungkook is offended.

How could his best friend not jump over the table and throw questions at him? How could he not shake Jungkook by his shoulders to pry for the answers? How could Namjoon mind his own business?

How could Namjoon not care?

Leaving the Dittany Leaves on the ceramic plate by the pot, he turns around to give the boy a piece of his mind but stops in his tracks as the reason for the cold retort is laid right in front of his eyes.

Forehead covered with bangs and the glasses sliding down the nose bridge, Namjoon’s attention is undividedly focused on trying to cut Horklump with the wrong side of the knife. 

If there is one thing he has come to know about the senior in the short period of knowing him, it’s that he has tunnel vision when it comes to anything revolving around grades and bonus points. It would be stereotypical of him to say it is because Namjoon is a Ravenclaw but that’s just the truth. If it didn't result in him dying, the boy would even forget to breathe when academics are involved. 

Of course, Jungkook would be a background noise right now.

"Joonie, I said I found a way to deliver the letter and ensure it is being taken seriously." He repeats endearingly while prying Namjoon's fingers open to rotate the knife so it's the sharp side sliding through the thick skin of the dead creature. 

Namjoon lifts his head—furrowed brows now relaxed—to smile at him in gratitude before asking, "What do you mean?"

Finally having the attention on himself Jungkook launches to narrate all the blunders and lucky encounters he had yesterday. From being knocked up dead because of miscasting to the rookie mistake of forgetting to ask the name, he retells the prior day’s happenings in minute details. 

Once Jungkook is content that Namjoon would be able to recite the events by heart, he eagerly waits for a solid reaction, similar to what he expected earlier. But once again his expectations are crushed. 

The thing that captured Namjoon’s attention the most was not the romantic night walk or spar with death, rather it was a name. 

“You talking about Kim Taehyung?”

The sheer surprise and disbelief in the tone indicate it's not the right time to throw a tantrum at the conversation not turning the way he wanted, so swallowing up the whine bubbling in his throat Jungkook answers, “Might have been him, Jimin just called him Taehyung.”

“Jimin as in Park Jimin right? Blonde hair, full set of lips, and 4-inch tall third-year Slytherin?”

“Um…yes—Maybe?”

At the affirmative response, Namjoon dismisses the whole conversation with a huff. “Dude it’s better you find some other way to get Professor Jung to read because there ain’t no way Kim will help you with it. At least not until the Ice Prince deems you worthy of his time. Which, let me tell you, is impossible.”

The way other words it makes Jungkook frown, “I think you are being unreasonable here. How was Jimin so sure then?”

Being the theatrical child, Namjoon completely abandons the knife, walks across the mahogany table to cup his cheeks, and speaks slowly, as if spelling it out for a child.

“Jimin is sure because that is what he would do for him. Park Jimin is the only exception when it comes to Kim Taehyung. We call him Ice Prince for a reason Kook, he is the heir of Pureblood Slytherin MadHouse, you will be struck with a spell you never knew existed at the lift of his finger. He is royalty with an even more royal-ass personality—if he has any. Listen to me and steer clear from his way.”

The third year was not painting him as an heir of a stuck-up family, he is one.

The Madhouse is extremely notorious for its closed-off hospitality and conservative practices. Despite being a Raven Ranger, Jungkook never saw any of the members of Madhouse, one of the main reasons being his mother. 

Seol-hee Jeon is a muggle, meaning any of her kin is a half-blood, which in Sly tongue translates to unworthy. And as an unworthy Jeon, he never saw or heard from any of the Sly Members. He doesn't particularly harbor any ill feelings for the Madhouse concerning their behavior. His mother doesn’t need Sly Validation to be the woman she is now. Her name carved on one of the offices in the Ministry of Magic speaks for itself. 

Despite being a muggle, his mother never accepted any positions reserved for them in the Ministry. Instead, she worked her way through the claws of bloodline-obsessed officials for her voice to be regarded with the same worth as the rest of her pureblood acquaintances. 

His father, the only child of his Pureblood Raven parents, dismissed every advice of marrying an equal to keep the lineage pure. Jungkook still remembers how his grandma used to speak of his father, with pride and a delightful shine in her eyes, how he fought for his love during the House's Pureblood Family gathering. She still remembers him the same even after his death. 

His apprehension and perturbation might have been more visible than he thought because Namjoon feels the need to comfort, “Don’t go for that long face Kookie, you could still meet Jimin and Taehyung, but just bear in mind that it may not be what he is aiming for. Better try once than not try at all right?” 

It doesn’t necessarily tame his burning anxiety, but the gentle words paired with a calming smile ease him into following what Namjoon suggests. Try—that he could do—if it turns out the way he wants, great for him. If it turns out the way Namjoon predicted, he could try another approach.  

“Yeah, I'll keep that in mind,” he replies, managing a small smile which, by the looks of it, Namjoon sees right through but thankfully doesn’t comment.

They both return to the chopping and plucking. 

The shuffling of feet and murmurs of students become the only sound filling the silence between them. Nobody speaks another word for a few minutes, engrossed in the loudness of his mind for Jungkook and gawking guilt of crushing Jungkook’s spirits for Namjoon.

When the guilt and loudness become too much to breathe the third year tries to dissipate it with, “So do you want to talk about the boy you forgot to ask the name of?” 

And it works like wonders, Namjoon sees the glint filling Jungkook’s eyes as the boy begins to wax poetry about the mysterious student, blissfully unaware of how his eyes twinkle with every word.

“So you are going to meet Jimin in his room after this, right?” Namjoon once again checks up on him while tabulating the potion-filled vials and allocating the glass bottles in the holder that’s to be submitted. 

Standing in the corner, Jungkook replies with a nod, busy arranging the knives, cauldron, cutting board, and various other tools such as a stirring stick back in the student’s potion kit.

Truth be told, after the revelation that the person going to aid him in his task is none other than Sly Prince, Jungkook is a little apprehensive about the meeting. Though, throughout the brewing, Namjoon tried to instigate him in not leaving any stone unturned—this plan in particular does seem a little less promising to him than earlier.

“Don’t think too much about it Kookie, you said Jimin was rather convinced Taehyung would help you, right?” Namjoon voices as he walks up to him.

Collecting the kit equipment from his grasp, Namjoon hands him the holder containing the vials along with his satchel before ushering him toward the patio where the potion is to be assembled, “Submit your assignment and get out of here. Just go for it, everything will turn out fine.” 

With a supportive look on his face, Namjoon continues, “I’ll meet you in the Great Hall for dinner and then you are going to tell me about how the great Jeon Jungkook put his brilliant brain to use and persuaded the Ice Prince to help him.” and pats firmly on his back

The optimistic exclamation significantly cheers Jungkook’s dampened soul. Namjoon’s opinion and advice are like a gospel for him. With one last glimpse at his friend’s smile, he slips the satchel on his shoulder and confidently saunters towards the patio. Greeting Professor Min a nice day ahead, Jungkook exits the herbarium.

He is going to successfully persuade the Ice Prince.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖

What is the name of the feeling that you have just before taking a dreadful exam—something that is not completely restlessness nor you can call it butterflies—that gray ground in between the assurance that you’ll perform well and the uncertainty of anything could go south? 

That is the exact emotion to describe Jungkook’s current misery. His mind is a mess at its best. 

One-half of his conscience is in complete jitters.

What if Jimin put a little more faith in Taehyung than he probably deserves? What if Taehyung is a prideful asshole and refuses to help him? What if he knows that Jungkook is a half-blood and reverts to his obnoxious Sly belief? After all, Jimin could be unaware of other’s family history.

While the other half is blooming with a sickening optimistic approach.

Jimin didn’t even flinch before saying his roommate would help, it should mean something right? It could be a bonus that Taehyung is a Madhouse Heir, just imagine the glorious ancient commodities the boy might have access to. What if Jimin was talking about one of those blingy-blingy envelopes that were used by the Prison of Azkaban to deliver summoning letters to the defendants? Half of Jungkook’s work might be done if that was the case. The coercing power those envelopes hold goes beyond just urging the receiver to open them, they incite the reader to behold whatever is written in the letter as prime dogma. 

Anything could happen, but if there’s one thing he knows for sure, it’s that he wouldn’t know anything if he didn’t try. Rumors fly, and people talk. Hogwarts’ walls aren’t just old; they’re filled with the words people mindlessly spread, regardless of their relevance. The whole Ice Prince debacle could just be nonsense. But how would he know if he didn’t try?

Propelled by his musings Jungkook didn’t even realize there was a rock-solid surface in his way until it was too late, and he barrelled head-first into the object. A loud bang rumbled in the empty corridor with Jungkook’s cry in pain being the adlib. Eyes scrunched close with agony, he stumbles a few steps back, holding onto his precious head. 

“Bloody hell, did I forget to walk or something?” He mutters under his breath, hands still cradling the forehead. It does feel like he needs to train his brain-leg coordination because he has been stumbling and fumbling either by himself or into things for the past four sunsets.

He keeps his head low, pressing against the hurting area to feel any bump. He hopes it doesn’t bruise because it’ll be utterly humiliating if Sly Prince thinks of him as a Wobbling Woosie.

Jungkook was busy praying that Madam Pomfrey may have an herb or an ointment or a potion or anything that would stump his yet-to-be-found bump when the rattle of a door opening was heard. “Well, that’s one way to knock. Extremely creative but a tad bit troublesome, don’t you think?”

The fear of someone witnessing his humiliating lack of skill makes Jungkook’s head snap up in the direction of the voice. But all pain is now a retrospective misery, as the sight in front of him knocks the breath out of his lungs.

There stands the mysterious boy, Veela —in all his glory, embodying every definition of a heartbreaker. Dressed in a cashmere green sweater with the sleeves scrunched up to his pretty elbows, he stands with his arms folded across a broad chest, casually resting his shoulder against the door frame. His delicate black hair is parted to the side, revealing strong brows lifted in amusement, while his lips hold an effortlessly unbothered expression. The glasses from the previous night are nowhere in sight, giving Jungkook the privilege of taking in those deep, captivating eyes in all their raw beauty.

“Ah, it’s you, forgot your way out again, darling ?” 

The husky whisper paired with that word is enough to make Jungkook dizzy but he sobs as soon as the reality of where he head-butted knocks into him (pun intended). 

Jeon Jungkook, so immersed in his brain’s commotion, smashed his bigass forehead on the door of a room belonging to non-other than Veela. Merlin, just let this ground gobble him. He met this god’s grace thrice and all three encounters happened because he was walking worse than a bloody toddler . Not going to lie, those chance meetings have been a blessing, absolutely sending his heart into cardiovascular arrest but why humiliate himself every time? Can’t this poor child have a normal stumble with his crush without any of the tumbling involved?

“There you go daydreaming again.” the boy chuckles under his breath before shaking his head—and dare Jungkook say, endearingly shaking his head and nudging his chin while the eyes stay put on Jungkook’s features, “You got a name, darling?”

Mustering all the bravado Jungkook contains, he replies, “Jungkook” without losing his voice or bursting into a ball of blush halfway . Though it was an arduous task he executed it almost perfectly.

Almost because the blushing happens after saying his name.

“Oh, so you are Jungkook, Jimin has been going on tangents about you since yesterday.” the boy speaks up, eyes flashing with a recognition that Jungkook can’t reciprocate. Does pretty boy know Jimin or something? 

“That explains the head knocking, the spell ruffled you up pretty bad, huh.”

Veela then pushes off the doorframe, at least now Jungkook can focus on something other than the shoulders and arms. Instead of what you and he both expected, Pretty Boy just turned on his feet and strolled back into the room leaving him baffled in the hallway. That was a very rude way to end a one-sided conversation. Like he came, mentioned he knows Jimin in between the talking and sauntered back. Not like he owes Jungkook a parting greeting or something, definitely not after the head-knocking, but a goodbye or see you soon would have been good. 

But looks like this is life, without any sayonara, oh well.

However, before Jungkook could take his dejected soul somewhere and weep his heart out, something—rather someone, stops him dead in his tracks, “I suggest you get inside this room if you want my help with that letter of yours.”

And considering the whole letter fiasco is because he wanna be a Ravenclaw, it takes him an embarrassing amount of time to connect the dots in his bruised head.

Pretty boy knows Jimin…

Pretty boy knows about the letter…

Pretty boy asked if he needs help…

Love Luna Lovegood, pretty boy is Kim Taehyung, the Sly Prince.

Fuck his life, seriously.

Chapter Text

It feels like a deja vu, sitting on the same bed, in the same room, under similar circumstances, the only difference is, when Jungkook was here because of Jimin it was his body that malfunctioned but now it’s his brain glitching, or better say inoperative.

The cause for the wreckage is still undecided though, it could have been the great reveal that Jimin’s knight in shiny armor is none other than Kim Taehyung, or the very impromptu realization that his crush is THE Kim Taehyung. Either way, Jungkook is fated to get involved with Madhouse, that is if the Ice Prince didn’t inherit the genetic asshole-ry.

“My name is Kim Taehyung, third-year Slytherin.” Taehyung says while dragging a chair from the corner of the room, “So tell me more about this letter of yours and the intention behind it, ‘cause all Jimin said was that a first-year named Jungkook needs my help in delivering a letter to Seok Hyung.”

“No, um…I need your help delivering it to Professor Jung not…” Jungkook barely manages to say the words. 

He is on the verge of dashing to the safety of his room. The whole aura that Taehyung radiates makes him squirm in his place, if he had been under the direct attention of the boy before Jungkook would have known that Taehyung is no common student. There is something insanely captivating about him. The way Taehyung carries himself is no less than royalty. But Kismet and Jungkook have never been friends, the former has always been a bitch, and dropped him in the lap of Sly Prince . 

“I am talking about him as well” Taehyung clarifies, with amusement clear in his voice, “Professor Jung is a frequent visitor of Madhouse, it mustn’t be a surprise considering he is Slytherin representative in the Ministry of Magic. Anyways, we all call him Seok Hyung.”

Is there any other way left in which Jungkook could embarrass himself? Please tell him now so that he can avoid it in the future because why the hell his stupid brain didn’t connect the Madhouse and council minister connection? Stupid brain, never braining when required. 

“Oh, Seok Hyung—Slytherin Head—council member, makes sense, of course, it does.” He blabbers. 

An awkward silence follows.

So much for damage control.

Jungkook takes a minute or two to gather his thoughts, hoping this time it’s something coherent leaving this damn abomination called his mouth.

“I am the youngest in Raven Ranger , and as you might know the Raven family has always stood out because of its all Ravenclaw members.”, he shifts in his place a little, “The last Ranger who was not a Ravenclaw was my mother because…she isn’t a wizard. So, I think the Sorting Hat made a mistake by sorting me into Slytherin.”

More awkward silence follows.

Maybe it’s awkward only for Jungkook because along with being a scatterbrain, he is also a scaredy cat considering who in the Merlin’s beard doesn’t look at the person they are talking to? People who have a crush on the person in the discussion do that, also they are elite, and don’t forget people have embarrassed themselves in front of them a gazillion times. 

Jungkook is people . That’s him. 

“You do know that Sorting Hat takes family history only into account, it doesn’t sort based on it, right?” Taehyung finally breaks the silence with the most obvious question one would have in the given case. 

Jungkook knows that it’s common knowledge. The sorting is done entirely based on the traits of the student—both what meets the eye and what's hidden. However, the goddamn rusty fabric is notorious for refusing to admit it has made a mistake in its sorting of a student—bloody entitled bitch. You can’t forget the infamous case of Peter Pettigrew as Griffindor, can you? 

“Sure, I know that as well but, um…I wouldn’t chase after Ravenclaw if I connected with Slytherin in any way. The closest house after Raven I would likely be sorted in would be Griffindor.” 

Jungkook at last lifts his head to look at Taehyung and surprisingly the boy is lounging in his chair, completely laid back, as if they are having a friendly conversation over some cookies and mocha. There is not a hint of judgment or arrogance in the air as he had expected. Taehyung is intently listening to what he has to say, and if Jungkook dares to say, he is even silently encouraging him to lay his thoughts out loud. Maybe this easygoing ambiance along with Taehyung’s somewhat inviting expression prompts the words to unabashedly roll from his mouth, 

“It’s just that I want to be something, you know, my Grandma is one wise woman, someone I hold dear to my heart. When I was boarding the Hogwarts Express, she said I quote, You are a golden child, fated to achieve greatness in your life. So tell me how would she feel when I tell her I am now a Sly, not Raven? Luna Love, she’ll be so disappointed in me.” 

The weight of the situation is finally getting to him, in the worst time possible. The Hat didn’t even have a Hatstall on him, nope, the bitch just ridiculed him in front of the whole student body and screamed Slytherin in its old rusty voice. Why? Just to get back at him for having a preference. Isn’t it supposed to take the students’ preferences into account? If he ever got his hands on that shabby article, he is going to ruffle up the bitch good, with lots of water and bloody detergent. The hat’s credibility might have gone to its head after no one ever questioned its decisions.

“Well, that’s very compelling reasoning, I am sold.” Taehyung voices after a moment of intense deliberation from both sides, “So now why don’t I show you our dark horse.” he then abandons his chair to stride towards one of the two doors, that Jungkook assumes are his and Jimin’s room. 

There is some rustling, and soon Taehyung reappears, holding something huge in his hands. It is difficult to tell what it might be, given that it is covered in a velvety, grey blanket. 

“Just don’t scream”, Taehyung requests, his voice soft,  and now Jungkook is curious. What is this thing that will not only gain Professor Jung’s attention but also allegedly make him scream? Taehyung not elaborating further and constantly peeking inside the blanket—as if to check whatever is underneath is still present—is increasing his inquisitiveness. Why is there so much need to create suspense? Just lift the blanket and save him from mental acquisitivity. It’s not like Taehyung possesses a Romanian Dragon egg or…

“Bloody hell, is it a fucking baby phoenix ,” Jungkook whisper-shouts (keyword: whisper), when the blanket slips off, “That too with silver feather?” and a ball of silvery feathers comes into view, because how the hell can he not? 

Phoenix are stupendous creatures in themselves, with tears having healing abilities and powers to regenerate, these species are no less than exotic. They are highly exquisite domestic immortals, only someone with a very venerated lineage could have them in their house as if they were parrots instead of something that would be unaffected by Basilik’s stare. 

What’s more unfathomable is that Taehyung is holding a silver phoenix, their feather not only makes the strongest wands in existence ( one of the greatest cases being the Dark Lord's wand), but they are impossible to procure because one cannot just pluck a silver Phoenix’s feather. 

No, the feathers should be offered to them by the Phoenix itself. Once the Silver Phoenix loses its feather, the bird bursts into a ball of white light and rebirths. Even though reincarnation is instant, they take thousands of years to grow into their adult form. If the feather is plucked forcefully or by any means of coercion the bird is compelled to offer the feather, they burst into flames and rebirth as the, comparatively common, Red Phoenix, subsequently losing its silver novelty and rarity. 

This is why Silver Phoenix offers their feather once in a blue moon, and that too only happens when they approve of the person's purity. In essence, if they deem the person worthy to go through the thousand years of patience and metamorphosis. And if Taehyung is cradling a Silver Phoenix it only means one thing—

“Did it offer you its feather,” Jungkook mutters while walking up to the bird which seems to be in deep slumber. “It doesn’t seem more than two or three years old, it's practically an infant.” 

He silently watches how Taehyung is cradling the phoenix as a baby, with utmost care and affection—it is a heart-melting sight. Taehyung gently strokes its shiny plumage making the bird melt inside the fluffy blanket. When the finger reaches its crown the Phoenix sleepily raises its head and gently nibbles on it, not biting just holding the finger between its blunt beak. Jungkook’s lips lift in a soft smile seeing the sweet interaction. 

“His name is Tannie, he has been by my side since forever.” He says while gently petting the top of the Phoenix’s head. 

“He has a special place in our family tree, even above my great-great-great grandparents. It's because his presence in the Madhouse is untraceable, nobody knows for how long he has been at our service.” Taehyung explains as he continues to caress the shiny feathers, “When my Hogwarts invitation arrived, I was in my room doing something I don’t remember, and this little fella flew in there to give me the letter, didn’t you Tannie?” The bird lets out a small screech as if to agree with whatever his owner is saying. 

“But as soon as I reached out to grab the letter, he threw the letter far behind him and plopped himself in my lap.”

A small chuckle leaves Taehyung’s throat, “Imagine me, with a lapful of a fully grown Phoenix, trying to reach the letter while this Birdie was nipping at my ears for attention. I was so irritated—not going to lie—I wanted to tear open that bloody letter but my lovely Tannie wouldn’t budge. So when I tried to coax him into freeing me he just nudged my jaw and began to groom his plumage, completely ignoring me. I was confused at first, you see, Tannie was never so bratty. But then he plucked one of his forewing feathers and presented me with it.” 

Taehyung then lifts his head and faces him, a grateful look shining in those eyes—he mumbles, “And all I can say is, I am honored for it.”

When Taehyung’s finger reaches Tannie’s throat, the bird erupts in a full-body shudder. His eyelids open to reveal beautiful yet sleep-dazed ombre irises. Taehyung ushers them towards the bed where Jungkook previously sat—the rising Phoenix will need space to spread his wings.

Jungkook perches by the edge while Taehyung settles on the opposite side, leaving the rest of the bed for Tannie to pandiculate. The Phoenix stretches its wings for a few minutes before flopping back onto the nest of blanket. 

“Looks like he is lazing up a little.” Jungkook can’t help but comment, the bird looks so serene with his eyes half open staring in the void. He occasionally lifts his head to yawn but then sags back into the fluffiness. If he didn’t know better, picturing this baby bird as something as majestic as a Silver Phoenix would be perplexing.

“Yeah, he takes some time to completely leave the spirit realm and descend back to our humble Hogwart world” Taehyung humorously answers as he arranges the blankets around Tannie so he doesn’t tangle and hurt himself, “Hmm, where was I? The offering, yes. You see, my hands were shaking when I took the feather because even though Tannie has been in our family since long before he never reincarnated once. He just never offered, I was in shambles to see him offering me something so invaluable. But then Tannie, without considering my poor heart, burst into intense white light right in my lap.”

“Oh my god!” words leave Jungkook’s mouth on their own accord because a Phoenix reincarnation in his bloody lap would send him to a temporary comatose, no magical herb would be able to relieve him. Unadulterated magic exploding in such proximity? Are you kidding him?  Love Luna Love, mad respect to Taehyung for being so humble after witnessing a Silver Phoenix reincarnate that close.

“I am not even exaggerating. I was so stupefied that I bloody passed out. Woke up in the same bed after two days with Tannie, even tinier than now, taking a nap in the same blanket by my side. It was—”

A high-pitched chirp interrupts Taehyung’s narration. The bird now fully awake stares intently at his caretaker—blinking his eyes a few times—before hopping toward Taehyung’s direction.

 “Well, Tannie is calling for my attention now” he endearingly informs before helping the Phoenix to perch on his thigh as he grooms the silver feathers while the bird nibbles on his hand. 

“Tannie, say hello to Jungkook,” Tannie lifts his head to look at him—a shrill chirp echo in the room, “you gonna deliver one of his letters to Seok Hyung, okay?” 

The bird bobs his head as if agreeing to what Taehyung said leaving Jungkook flabbergasted at the whole exchange. The understanding between Taehyung and his Tannie clearly runs deeper than that of a pet and owner, maybe this is what happens when a creature grows along with you since childhood. 

Jungkook wouldn’t know but it is something he absolutely adores.

“Just come tomorrow anytime with the letter, we both will be here to help you,” Taehyung informs him with a gentle smile, and Jungkook suddenly realizes how all his worries about the Sly Heir were the classic case of don’t judge a book by its cover. 

They had been talking for more than an hour now and not once he felt like he had been with someone from Madhouse. The notorious family might be Taehyung’s lineage but clearly, the blood flowing through his veins is his own. Even when he accidentally mentioned being half-blood, something that the typical MadSly would create a riot over, Taehyung’s demeanor didn’t change even a bit. He has been nothing but courteous with him from the beginning to now. 

And now that Taehyung’s lip is tugged up with seraphic warmth Jungkook is taken back to the boy who saved him yesterday not some vainglorious Ice Prince as Namjoon described. 

“Yeah, I will. Thank you so much for this.” he gratefully bows, before picking up his belongings. 

“Don’t mention it. Just be careful on your way out. I might not be able to save you this time.” Taehyung cheekily comments while gesturing towards the nuzzling Phoenix that has made his home in his lap, effortlessly making Jungkook melt in a pool of blush and fluttering butterflies.

With few words. Just like that.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖

After immense thinking on his part, Jungkook came to the decision that instead of going to the Great Hall he would go to the library. With every student busy having their dinner the library would be completely deserted, with no soul to disturb him.

However, the thinking proves to be immaculately wrong, because the moment he places his parchments and books on the table a translucent head pops up from the solid surface, scaring the shit out of him.

“Hogwart’s Ablosute Vocab Coach: Write Formal Pieces that Make a Lasting Impression, an unnecessarily long name for a formal writing guide in my opinion.” Jungkook hears someone speaking, it’s a rusty voice as if the speaker is speaking through some layers. Not the most sensible explanation but that’s the best way he could describe it while trying to make sense of why the world is upside down. 

Oh, that’s right, he fell off the chair due to the ambushing.

“Merlin, can I catch a break from all the ground kissing I’ve been doing? This is what, the fiftieth time I’ve fallen today?” Jungkook complains as he grabs the edge of the mahogany table to lift himself. Somewhat stabilizing himself on his crooked leg, he dusts his pants before looking at the culprit of this fall. 

He is pleasantly surprised to see Lockhart's descendant, the ghost from the sorting ceremony, lying on the table and munching on a half-eaten apple.

“I didn’t know ghosts can eat.” Jungkook unconsciously voices his inner thoughts, making the ghost erupt in hearty laughter. Now when the mouth is open wide, Jungkook realizes the ghost was just moving his jaw to give the illusion of chewing. The buccal cavity is empty and pellucid.

“Oh boy, you are right we can’t.” The ghost responds while wiping the fake tears—the amusement of fooling someone shining on the cloudy skin—he throws the half-eaten apple in Jungkook’s direction.

“So, they can touch and lift things too?” He puts up another question as he catches the tangible apple in his hands and takes a bite, sweetness hitting the palate. At least now Jungkook won’t go to bed with an empty stomach.

“Nah, ghosts can’t interact with the mortal realm, but I am just more magical, an exception if you will.” the ghost explains while throwing two more fruits at him, a tangerine and a guava this time. 

Where are they even coming from? 

On second thought, he doesn’t care really. To devour them during his intense brainstorming session, he puts the fruits aside and takes a fresh parchment from the bundle along with a black inkpot and quill, promptly ignoring the existence of the flying ghost.

Nonetheless, just when he finishes writing the salutation— Dear Professor Jung —the ghost speaks over his shoulder, “You writing something to Professor Jung?” and startling him to the core—smudging the damp ink and ruining the paper.

“What in the name of Lovegood, do you want now?” Jungkook borderline screams in frustration. He didn’t give up on dinner just for his time to be wasted by some lonely attention-seeking ghost. He wants to finish the letter now so that he can ask Namjoon for some pointers tomorrow but the ghost is making it increasingly difficult. 

But when he looks at the cloudy being’s downturned lips and dejected eyes, his heart fills with guilt.

“Okay, I am sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice.” Jungkook apologizes with sincerity.

The saddened lips suddenly turn into a mirthful smirk—he once again got played. 

“That’s it, you go out of this library by yourself or I’ll kick you out,” Jungkook warns and aggressively crumbles the wasted paper for better dramatics. 

Yet, it does no good as the ghost pretends to quiver in fear, “Ohh…I am scared, how are you gonna kick me out, Ravenclaw, use your brain I am not palpable.”

And if the Ravenclaw hadn’t hit so close to the home, Jungkook would have shown the ghost his place.

“I am not Ravenclaw, no doubt should have been but that Bitch Hat sorted me wrong.” He exclaims defeated, all the fight leaving his body at the memory of his misery.

“By Bitch Hat you mean Sorting Hat?” the ghost, now floating on the nearby chair, asks with sympathy.

“Yeah, that piece of fabric sorted me into the wrong house, you know. That’s why I am writing a letter to Professor Jung, to ask for his help.”

“And how is he going to help with sorting issues exactly?”

Jungkook looks around for any prying ears before gesturing the ghost to come closer, he whispers “The Sorting Hat has a spirit, and I heard from somewhere that Professor Jung knows him. So I am gonna ask for a way to communicate with it.” 

When he finishes speaking, the ghost leans back a little to look at Jungkook’s face with a poker expression—giving nothing away. It bubbles an unsettling feeling in his stomach, what if the ghost knows nothing about the spirit and he shared more than he should?

However, the worries vanish to dust when the ghost beams and raises his hand to give Jungkook a praising pat on the back. But he stops midway realizing it is useless as the hand would pass through him. Coughing up the awkwardness the ghost rejoices, “Well, looks like it’s your lucky day because I happen to know exactly what you should write.”

“Really!!?” 

Jungkook is suddenly liking the lonely ghost a lot.

Without a moment of delay, he takes out another parchment and smoothens it for a good measure before dipping his quill in the ink. Having the equipment ready he eagerly waits for the ghost’s next words.

“Write, Dear Professor Jung,”

“ Un-hun” Tongue striking out between the lips, Jungkook simultaneously jots down whatever the ghost instructs, in the best handwriting he can muster.

“I, Jeon Jungkook suffer from the consequences of being sorted into the wrong house. It would be a great help if you would direct me to the Sorting Hat’s way. ”

Jungkook scribbles as told, however, when the ghost speaks nothing after, bewildered he questions, “But this is no novelty, it’s a normal formal letter.” 

Namjoon advised him to write something eye-catching, and not to be ungrateful for the help or anything but this is the most mundane complaint letter ever.

“The magical phrase is, Jinnie kindly insists you help me. ” the ghost reveals—the see-through eyes gleaming bright.

Now this is something Jungkook never heard before and if the phantom’s confidence is anything to go by this will be the last nail in the coffin, however, “Who is Jinnie?”

“Me, I am Jinnie.”

“And the busiest wizard in Hogwarts will abide at the mention of your name, just like that?” 

To be honest, Jungkook is very skeptical about the whole ordeal. The ghost didn’t seem very promising to begin with, like which important entity would disturb a student during quiet hours in the library, “Are you an acquaintance of him, some sort?”

“Rowena , I should be offended, you didn’t consider that I might be a muckety-muck too, but yeah you can say that. Me and Seok- I mean Professor Jung know each other well.” 

Deeming the vindication plausible enough, Jungkook nods his head once and jots down the word as Jinnie dictated.

When the ink of the last phrase dries up, he gently folds the parchment and tucks it safely inside the pocket of his pants, “Well, I am really thankful for your help, is there something you want in return?” 

The ghost previously dozing off (didn’t know they could sleep) comes floating towards him at the utterance. Swirly the misty figure around his torso, Jinnie grins at him from above his shoulder, “Nope-dope, I want nothing from you, just keep me updated with your rendezvous. Nothing interesting happens here anymore, your hiccup will keep me entertained for a while.”

“I am delighted that my suffering is charming to you.” 

“Did you say something?”

“Nah, I was just chanting my night prayers.” 

Gathering all his belongings, Jungkook intentionally walks through the murky stature of Jinnie. 

“Hey, it’s offending to stroll through a ghost.” 

“Sorry, Jinnie, I didn’t mean to.” He mutters a hollow apology and places the hefty book back on its shelf. “I’ll see you around Jinnie, goodnight.” 

And waves to the ghost—bidding him farewell as he exits the library.

“You too, Jungkook.” 

Now, if the ever-brilliant mind that Jungkook claims to possess was in function, he would have realized he never told Jinnie his name.

Chapter Text

“Jinnie requests, that’s it?” Namjoon asks, baffled, but Jungkook is too preoccupied with more pressing matters to ease the boy’s confusion.”

The meal he skipped yesterday gave him a very dramatic episode of insomnia. It was absolutely torturous to toss and turn on his bed like a dying caterpillar for four hours straight. He even resorted to munching on the greasy snacks he had in store. Night cravings are something he never indulges in, but desperate time calls for desperate measures.

Yet, the churning of his stomach didn’t stop. 

This brings him to the current predicament—him and Namjoon having some sleep-deprived breakfast and much-needed caffeine dose at 4:00 in the morning.

“Yeah, Jinnie said this whoudh whork, said they whehe akhuainthances or something,” Jungkook mutters with a mouth stuffed full of cinnamon buns. “Joonie, did you bakhe these, it is delishious.” 

”Well, thank you but I’ll appreciate it even more if you would talk after swallowing” Namjoon distastefully comments seeing half of the buns flying out of Jungkook’s mouth. He passes him a napkin while wearily eyeing the food crumbs on the table. 

If Jungkook weren’t so ravenous, he’d probably shrivel up in embarrassment over his downright primal behavior. He certainly looks the epitome of a savage. 

“Sorry about this, but this is the most delicious thing I have had in my whole life.” He appreciates while moaning at the softness of the bread, but not before gobbling the chunk of food first. Was it properly chewed? Can’t be certain.                  

“Thank you, I’d say I am pretty decent at baking, learned a few tricks back home. My mother is the best baker you’ll ever meet. Next time she sends me cookies I’ll save some for you.”

“Please do. This is pure heaven.”

“So, you said the ghost and Professor Jung are acquaintances?”

Jungkook nods. Cleaning his mouth with the napkin offered, he burps, “Sorry”, whilst Namjoon just waves his hand. 

Now that his stomach has the fuel to function and provide oxygen to his brain, Jungkook’s thoughts are more coherent, “Yup, at least that’s what Jinnie insisted and he did seem confident.”

Namjoon nods his head thrice—quadruple times, probably pondering deeply on his thoughts, “You know what’s strange? I don’t know any ghost named Jinnie.”

“You can’t know everyone in Hogwarts Joon. But if it helps you, he was present during the sorting ceremony, I saw him.” Jungkook shrugs.

“But still.” 

“Don’t mull over it too much. Look at the bright side Joon, I got the best thing to interest Professor Jung, isn’t it great.” Jungkook cheers, trying to give Namjoon something so that his attention shifts from the unnecessary contemplation. 

And it works as the third year passes him a timid smile, “I guess it is. I am happy for you.”

“I am happy for me too.” Jungkook beams, about to capture Namjoon in a warm hug, when he remembers something, “Talking about happy—how did you form such a strong opinion about Taehyung, did something happen between the two of you?”

Namjoon shrugs, “Not really. We don’t run into each other much. It’s just… he’s always been so quiet, you know? And with that whole princely aura, having Jimin as his only friend always seemed a little odd. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in the Great Hall either.” 

“That’s not very Ravenclaw of you, Joon,” Jungkook chides, “You’re basically judging a book by its cover.” He tsks dramatically before his expression softens, a dreamy look overtaking his features. 

“I told you how sweet and welcoming he was, didn’t I? He was so adorable talking about Tannie and everything. Honestly, I was in a daze half the time.” His voice drops slightly, almost reverent. “The way he talks—so gentle—and his eyes? They light up like stars. He’s… just stunning.”

“We established you have a crush on him, can we please fast forward your simping.” Jungkook shoots Namjoon a stink-eye, but the other just rolls his eyes, “And, just to save my ass, his resting-bitch face didn’t help either.”

“True that, dashing, isn’t he.” 

“Yes, yes, your Sly Prince on a shiny emerald broom. So, when you gonna give the letter to him?”

“The classes are scheduled in the afternoon. So, I’ll give it to him after leaving here.” 

“That’s a good idea.”

With Halloween preparations in full swing, the class has been rescheduled to the evening. Lucky for him, it gives him time to squeeze in a quick nap. Plus, Taehyung did mention he’d be in his room if he decided to stop by.

“I’ll head out, then,” Jungkook says, pushing himself up from the chair and brushing away the stray crumbs clinging to his pajama bottoms. 

His hand drifts up to his tousled hair, raking through it in a half-hearted attempt to tame the mess, but it stubbornly refuses to cooperate.

“Do I look presentable enough to march down the hallways?” he asks albeit aggressively trying to rub the dried-up saliva from the corner of his mouth.

“You don’t, to be honest, want something to change into because those hippogriff PJs are hideous. I can lend you a good pair of pants.”

Namjoon strides over to the wardrobe before Jungkook can manage a single ‘Yes, please.'

“I’ll pack some buns for you too. Oh, and since you mentioned struggling with Ancient Runes, I’ll grab my notes as well,” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

A moment later, Namjoon returns, holding out the notes and buns, neatly bundled in a heart-print Furoshiki. “Here you go,” he says, extending them toward Jungkook. 

Noticing the boy's wide-eyed stare, he tilts his head. “What’s with that look?”

Without a word, Jungkook wrestles him into an embrace, “Don’t be this sweet, I’ll kiss you on the mouth and I don’t want my first kiss to be platonic.” He sniffles, the sleep deprivation transitioning to its emotional stage.

Namjoon chuckles, “Yeah, yeah stop buttering me up. I already gave you the buns. I know you are playing all this sappy for them.”, he pats him softly on the back.

“Yeah, it was for the buns, you got me there,” Jungkook admits, rubbing under his nose with a sheepish grin.

Namjoon then passes him a pair of brown pants and a maroon cardigan. "You can change in there," he says, pointing to the bathroom. "It’s my plant time now, so I’ve got to head to the herbarium." 

Jungkook nods, a smile still tugging at his lips as he jogs toward the bathroom.

After splashing his face with ice-cold water and combing the bed head out of his hair, Jungkook stands outside Namjoon’s room, staring at the door, thinking if the other said anything about locking.

Leaving the room open doesn’t feel like the safest choice. What if someone notices it’s unlocked, breaks in, and steals something? Not that Jungkook has any clue if Namjoon keeps valuables here, but those baked treats are definitely worth snatching.  

He digs his hands into his pockets in search of his wand, only to come up empty. Of course, he didn’t bring it. He’d dashed over here with a grumbling stomach and a buzzing brain—grabbing his wand was the last thing on his mind.  

So, using Colloportus is out of the question. That leaves the key. There has to be one, right? Every door has a key, and this one shouldn’t be any different.  

Truth be told, this is too much brainstorming than he would advise to a person running on 2 hours of sleep and sugar high. And to top it off, a weak wave of nausea washes over him when he bends down to search under the door rug.

Jungkook feels the urge to cry creeping up on him but steadies himself just in time, narrowly avoiding a face-first collision with the adorable pink rug beneath him.

Wait, are those round rosy things painted on, mushrooms? Aww, it’s so cute. Namjoon is so adorable to have a mushroom door rug. 

He plants one hand firmly on the floor for support, leaning in closer to poke the mushroom and test if it’s as soft as it looks. Predictably, though, his balance has other plans, and he teeters forward in a graceless tumble—forehead connecting with the door in front of him with a soft thud. 

A dull ache pulses from the crown of his head, traveling down his neck, across his temples, and finally settling behind his eyes, a lingering discomfort that makes him wince.

Pressing against his temples, he stands up with the help of the handle, “Oh, it doesn’t open when it's pushed at least.” 

He tries to deliberately push against the hinges this time to recheck, however, his ministrations come to a halt when—

“Um…do you want some help?” 

It’s as if lightning strikes through him, his spine stiffening and shoulders tightening, while his hand remains frozen against the wood.

When he doesn’t answer, standing there motionless like a statue, the voice cuts through the silence. “Jungkook, I know that’s you.”

Caught in the throes of his own embarrassment, with no escape from the awkwardness, Jungkook sighs and reluctantly turns to face Kim Taehyung.

In all of his 19 years, Jungkook had never experienced such an intense desire to just disappear into thin air, swallowed up by the weight of someone’s complete and utter stillness.

Taehyung’s expression is as blank as a canvas—not a hint of emotion, not even the slightest twitch of his lips or a raised brow. The complete lack of reaction somehow makes it even more mortifying, and Jungkook can feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

“This is not what it looks like, I promise.” he helplessly stutters.

Unable to come up with anything to elaborate on the situation, Jungkook defeatedly purses his lips and intently stares at the rug beneath his feet.

However, his brain turns into muddled thoughts when a firm hand comes close and wraps itself on his forearm in a firm grip.

“Are you okay? Your eyes are…did you not sleep, Jungkook?” Taehyungs asks with worry laced clear in his tone but nothing compares to the perturbing look he witnesses when he raises his eyes to meet the others. 

His face is unreadable, but the iris gleams with concern. The thread holding Jungkook back from spilling his dramatic thoughts snaps when Taehyung furrows his brows, a small gesture of worry that sends the sleep-deprived boy over the edge. 

“Namjoon is the best friend ever. I don’t deserve him,” he moans. “I came here hungry and tired, and he didn’t even kick me out.”

If anyone had been watching, they'd probably turn right around, too confused to make sense of the scene. A boy sobbing with his eyes shut, tears staining his rosy cheeks, while another stands there, trying to figure out what triggered this sudden meltdown. 

It's too much effort to process before a morning stroll.

“He—hic—he even fed me some food and coffee. Not only that, he even packed me some of his delicious buns along with his notes. He remembered I was having trouble with Ancient Runes. He is so sweet, a literal angel~ ” Jungkook continues to sob praises of the Ravenclaw while poor Taehyung confusedly pats the boy’s back, unable to fathom the cause of his maudlin episode. 

It takes Jungkook about ten minutes to quiet his whimpers before he finally blinks his tear-stricken eyes open, locking his gaze on Taehyung’s face. “And then there’s you.”

Taehyung slightly flinches at the 180, Jungkook would notice if he wasn’t so wrecked. All the earlier haze of gratitude vanishes in an instant as Jungkook shrugs off the hand keeping him steady and scrambles to his feet. 

“You just waltzed into my life and saved me twice from getting my face rearranged—without even asking for permission,” he mutters, his features twisted, as if the mere thought of it pains him.

As he stumbles on his feet, Taehyung steps closer to steady him, but Jungkook brushes him off again. 

“Not just this, you,” he jabs a finger into Taehyung’s chest, “you even introduced me to Tannie. Don’t you know how rare Silver Phoenixes are? What if I were some sleazy, greedy cockroach just after his feather? I could’ve tricked my way into plucking it, and then Tannie would’ve been stuck as a common red phoenix, you dimwit.”

The exhaustion must be overwhelming now, because Jungkook, in his right mind, would never have dared to call Taehyung a dimwit. The boy himself is taken aback by the sudden jab, stumbling back a few steps from the force of the remark, instinctively pulling his support away from Jungkook. 

The loss of stability causes Jungkook to sway, but just as he starts to lose his balance, a firm hand at his waist catches him. In his scramble to steady himself, his fingers grasp at anything within reach.

Jungkook blinks twice, trying to shake off the dizziness, before his eyes land on the sweater clutched in his hands. He runs his fingers over the fabric, savoring its softness. Taehyung doesn’t say a word, simply watches as Jungkook gently caresses the sweater, his touches light and almost tender.

“Why do your sweaters always look so cozy?” he mumbles, eyes half-lidded. “Last time, I thought your sweater was just for the look, but it’s actually so soft to touch too. It’s like... I don’t know, it’s just so cuddly.”

His hands feel the fabric trembling beneath them, so he presses his palm firmly against the material to stop the quivering, which, to his satisfaction, it does. Smiling in contentment, he pats the fabric twice before nuzzling his cheek into the knitted wool. He hears a continuous thumping under his ears but ignores it this time, too delighted by the warmth and softness beneath his skin to care.

“I also want a hand-knitted sweater this cozy and cushiony. Every sweater my grandma ever knitted was always coarse. They made my skin itch, but I still wore them, you know? It made her happy,” he mumbles before taking a deep breath to sniff the fabric. The subtle scent of lavender making him dizzy.

“You can have it,” a muffled voice responds. It feels strange to Jungkook how the sound seems to come from beneath his ears, but he doesn’t dwell on it, not when the voice is like a lullaby lulling him deeper into comfort.

“I can’t. It’s Taehyung’s, I have to ask him first,” Jungkook murmurs, barely managing to whisper before the pull of exhaustion takes over, and the scent of lavender wraps around him, soothing him into a peaceful haze.

This dream happens to be the most vivid one he’s ever had, and having Taehyung in the imagery is just the frosting on the cake. It feels so surreal that his blanket still smells of lavender. He cuddles the duvet closer to his nose, hoping to inhale more of those balsamic undertones. However, he jerks it away when, instead of the softness of overused cotton, his skin meets the luxurious plushness of cashmere.

With great difficulty, he opens his groggy eyelids and peers down to make sense of the mint-colored fabric by his cheek. As his eyes adjust, he realizes that the material he was nuzzling into isn’t a blanket but a hand-knitted sweater—the one Taehyung wore in his lucid dream, to be exact. Realizing what this might mean, he swiftly hauls himself up. The room spins around him due to sleep inertia, but that's the least of his concerns now.

His ears ring when he realizes he’s not in his room—he’s lounging in Taehyung’s dorm. He racks his brain to figure out how he ended up here, but it leads him to nothing. Everything is hazy after the moment he bent down to search for the key under the rug.

“Bloody hell! Please, I didn’t do something embarrassing again,” he prays under his breath as his eyes land on the Furoshiki-wrapped buns on the nightstand, along with a glass of water and a very visible yellow sticky note pasted on the edge.

He carefully sets the sweater aside before reaching for the flimsy paper. Ready to babble apologies to Taehyung in case the note explains whatever happened before he ended up here, his cheeks flush bright red when he reads the calligraphy-esque writing.

Dear Jungkook,

I have prepared a glass of water, considering you might wake up thirsty, as you looked pale before passing out. I apologize for taking you to my dorm instead of dropping you at yours, but it wasn’t wise to step into first-year chambers with you in my arms so early in the morning. I can’t be there to explain this in person, as I have an early revision class to attend, but I hope you don’t mind the decision. Again, I apologize if it made you uncomfortable—that wasn’t my intention.

Also, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could you please wake Jimin up and remind him to take his medication? Even though I set an alarm for him, the previous dose had some drowsy effects, so he might have slept through it. I really appreciate your help.

(P.S. Taehyung permits you to keep the sweater. I hope the soft cashmere doesn’t make your skin itch and keeps you warm. I won’t accept it back, so don’t worry about returning it. It’s yours now.)

Yours Sincerely,
Tae ;)

The memory of nuzzling into Taehyung’s chest resurfaces in his mind, along with the scolding for being too trusting and the thumbing of his chest, followed by a silent chuckle. All of it comes back in flashes through the letter. If the thoughtfulness conveyed by the nightstand doesn’t make his heart race, Taehyung offering his sweater sure does.

Jungkook lightly slaps his cheek three times to tame the flush before tossing the duvet aside and standing barefoot on the floor. Taehyung even took off his shoes—he truly would die from the generous courtesy today. His heart is already in overdrive; one more beat faster, and he’ll turn into an unfeeling ball of mush.

Carefully tucking the delicate paper inside his pocket, Jungkook picks up the glass to take a few sips of water. He concludes it tastes better when served by Taehyung while his eyes wander over to the lumpy blanket on the other bed. The blanket shifts slightly, and he realizes Jimin is still fast asleep. 

He walks toward the mattress and subtly shifts through the layers of the duvet until a mop of blond hair comes into view. He clutches the end of the comforter and gingerly pulls it down, revealing Jimin sound asleep. From the flushed face and heavy perspiration, Jungkook can tell that the boy has a fever. 

If there was any doubt, it vanishes when he touches Jimin’s shoulder to wake him, and it’s burning.

He softly calls his name. However, when the other doesn’t stir, he shakes his shoulder, “Jimin, wake up. You need to take your next dose,” he calls, this time a little louder.

Jimin stirs at that, and although it takes a moment for him to regain consciousness, he eventually wakes up. His bleary eyes open to look at Jungkook, blinking twice to register that it’s him who woke him, not Taehyung. “Oh, Jungkook. What are you doing here?” he asks, trying to sit up. 

Jungkook rushes to help him adjust the pillows so he can rest against them.

When Jimin tries to speak again, he’s interrupted by a fit of coughing. He gestures toward the glass of water on his nightstand. Without hesitation, Jungkook passes him the glass. As he holds it, he realizes the water is warm. Taehyung must have warmed it up for Jimin before leaving.

“So, what are you doing here? Came looking for Tae?” Jimin says after soothing his dry throat. 

Jungkook shakes his head, “Nah, I just…Taehyung helped me here after I passed out on him. Also, he asked me to remind you to take your medicine.”

Jimin raises his eyebrow as if suddenly remembering that he must take one. He looks at the alarm clock beside him and slumps a bit realising it’s time for the next dose. 

“Yeah, could you…” he motions towards the lid-covered small bowl, Jungkook wordlessly hands him the medicine. 

Swallowing the pills with some water, Jimin passes both containers back to Jungkook before shifting his position to get comfortable. “So, it’ll take some time for the meds to kick in. Wanna talk about how you passed out in the meantime?”

Jungkook happily indulges, narrating everything that happened since the moment he woke up, conveniently leaving out a tiny detail. He doesn’t mention the ‘s’ of the sweater anywhere—he can’t handle any more embarrassment today.

The conversation flows easily between them as Jimin chimes in with his own inputs, like how he knows Namjoon a lot better than the boy lets on. He talks about how they were once paired for a herbology assignment and somewhat bonded over different species of mushrooms. 

Jimin has a garden back home where his family cultivates various varieties of vegetables and herbs, so their chat revolved around the best ways to grow toadstools and mishaps with staghorn during potion brewing. He also mentions the amazing baker that Namjoon’s mother is, which prompts Jungkook to reveal that he has some of the infamous cinnamon buns with him.

They continue talking while munching on the sweet goodies until Jimin’s eyes get heavy. When Jimin takes a yawn bigger than his mouth Jungkook tells him he should probably rest now, “Yeah, I will but after a bit. You tell me, did you write the letter—managed to find something promising enough to seal the deal?”

Jungkook doesn't press him further, instead, he goes along with the conversation, enjoying the chance to chat a little longer. "Actually, I met this quiet, confident ghost the other day in the library," he casually mentions. "He told me to mention his name in the letter—said it might help since he's an acquaintance of Professor Jung or something like that."

“Oh, that’s great then. What is the ghost’s name?” Jimin enthusiastically asks. 

“Jinnie, his name is Jinne and he is one ‘magical ghost’,” Jungkook reveals, finger quoting the magical part. 

When the boy lets out a confused noise, he explains, “Apparently, Jinnie could interact with the living realm. Although he is intangible like any other ghost, he can touch and lift inanimate objects. The cloud of smoke offered me a half-eaten apple, more like threw it at me.”

Jimin lets out a hearty laugh at the affectionate name Jungkook used to address the ghost, “Raven, I can tell, that apple really offended you.”

Jungkook ready on his feet, retorts, “Of course, it did. The bloody foggy puff first irritated the hell out of me, popping his ugly head everywhere and scaring me. Then he dared to tell me to keep him updated on my misery! Said it’s entertaining for him”

Jimin laughs a little more at how worked up Jungkook looks because of that, it sure rattled the boy that Jinnie called it entertainment, “So, you gonna do as the ghost said or carry the vendetta with you?”

“What? Of course, I am gonna mention his name. At least his magical ass would be of some use to me that way.” Jungkook holds grudges, no second that but having his way is more important than satisfying the chip on his shoulder. He sees an easier way out, he gonna exploit it to its worth. Work smarter than harder anyway.

“Well, you’re not wrong there.” Jimin hums while suppressing another yawn, “So, when will you write the letter? It’ll be easy now that you know what to mention, right?”

“I have the body ready.” He informs, “It’s pretty short and straight to the point. I just need to jot it down and then Tannie can deliver it.”

There wasn’t much to compose, he just added a few words of his own, rest was exactly what Jinnie said.

“Why don’t you write it now? There are papers and quills in the second drawer of that table there, you can have them. The faster you get done with it, the faster you can have a word with the Spirit.” Jimin suggests as he nods toward the ebony dresser by the bookshelf before laying down on the mattress. 

Jungkook, quick on his feet, removes the extra pillows from behind Jimin as the boy pulls the blanket up to his face. With only his lethargic eyes peeking out, Jimin murmurs, “Just put it where I can see before leaving. I’ll give it to Tae when he comes.”

Jungkook grins, nodding. “That I’ll do. Now, get some sleep. We want a fully healthy Jimin to celebrate Halloween, right?”

The response is a dopey chuckle from the boy, the sound muffled by the blanket, making Jungkook smile even more.

Squeezing Jimin’s hand in a quiet goodbye, Jungkook walks over to the dresser, gathers the supplies he needs, and then sits down by Taehyung’s bed. His mind is already racing, plotting the first step toward claiming what’s rightfully his—the house he truly belongs in, the one that fits him like a second skin. 

Not bloody Slytherin, where he always feels like an outsider, like he doesn’t quite belong. The Sorting Hat may have had its say up until now, but from this point on, Jungkook will decide his own future. He’s making the call, and this time, it’s a promise he’ll keep.

Chapter Text

What’s the next best thing to Halloween? It’s spending Halloween Eve cuddled up in layers of duvets due to a canceled class. Add in some satisfying revision, a pumpkin spice cookie, and your crush’s sweater, and nothing can top it.

Surrounded by a cocoon of warmth and the faint scent of lavender in the air, Jungkook spends his evening poring over the notes Namjoon lent him. Learning from the third-year’s handwriting is a gospel of some kind. So far, he hasn’t encountered a single page that’s difficult to grasp—a remarkable feat, considering he’s already halfway through. He wouldn’t go so far as to say Namjoon’s pointers have made him fall in love with the Study of Ancient Runes; no, that would be an exaggeration. But they’ve certainly made him hate the subject a little less—just a little.  

Some might question why he’s torturing himself with a subject well above his grade level, arguing he’ll have to learn it eventually anyway, so why not enjoy the reprieve while he can? But Jungkook doesn’t see it that way. Since runes won’t appear in his syllabus until third year, his reasoning is simple: if he has to choose it as an elective in the future, why not start learning it bit by bit now? That way, when the time comes, it’ll feel as smooth as butter. 

Yeah, yeah, typical Ravenc—

Oh.

He’s still not a Ravenclaw. 

The sudden reminder takes him back to how it’s been three days since he left the letter on Jimin’s nightstand, with no response whatsoever. He’s run into Jimin a few times since, and each time, the boy patiently assured him that Tannie had indeed delivered the letter to Professor Jung. Still, the radio silence from the other side leaves Jungkook’s stomach churning uneasily.  

He’s also tried to meet Taehyung to confirm whether Tannie might have misdelivered the letter, but the Sly Prince has been completely unreachable. 

It’s not because Taehyung refused to meet him—if that were the case, Jungkook would be crying buckets by now. It’s just that whenever he asked Jimin about Taehyung’s whereabouts, the boy would shrug and say, “He has his thing going on at night, Raven. If you want to meet him, you’ll either have to corner him between classes or hope to bump into him by chance. And no, it’s not because he has a boyfriend, that’s definitely not it.”

Not going to lie, that little clarification from Jimin was like a band-aid for him. He’s not sure how else he would have reacted if it had been anything else—probably topped off his already impressive track record of embarrassing moments. At least one thing’s clear now: Taehyung is into boys. That’s one doubt Jungkook can confidently cross off his list.

He decides to give it two more days. If no reply comes by then, he’ll just bombard Professor Jung’s office with letters. Annoying? Sure. But hey, it worked for Harry Potter, didn’t it? Feeling oddly reassured by this logic, he pulls the blanket tighter around himself and buries his nose into the sleeve of Taehyung’s sweater.

Just as he’s about to slip into yet another daydream about the owner of the green cashmere, a series of insistent knocks jolts him out of his thoughts. Before he can even stand to answer the door, two figures burst into the room uninvited, tumbling onto the doorstep in a chaotic heap.

One of them is Namjoon. 

“Blood hell Joon, when will you give up on your clumsiness?”, the other one reiterates as he dusts his pants after pulling themself up from the headbowing. 

Jungkook still can’t make out who that is, however, the voice does sound familiar. Especially the way Bloody hell rolls off from their tongue. 

Namjoon huffs, adjusting the crooked frame of his glasses. “You told me Jungkook never closes his door, so why, in the name of Merlin, did you stop to knock?” he says, smacking the other boy on the head.  

“What if he’s changed his habit now?” the boy retorts defensively, rubbing the sore spot on his skull. “Better save my nose from smashing, but thanks to you, my knees are wrecked from your dumbfullery.” He pulls himself up with Namjoon’s offered hand before adding, “And who told you to stand so close behind me? Luna Love , what do you eat to be this big?”  

Their bickering continues as they remain partially hidden in the shadows of the dimly lit corridor. Jungkook, watching the scene unfold, feels utterly flabbergasted. He’d recognize that Luna Love anywhere. How could he not? He’s been subjected to someone moaning about their undying love for Luna Love since practically the day he was born.  

“What happened to your voice, Jungyu?” Jungkook exclaims, both heads turn his way, clearly caught off guard at the interruption as if they just realized they are not alone. And even though he can’t see their faces, his imagination is powerful enough to visualize their astounding looks. 

They take a moment to themselves—fixing their hair and disheveled shirt collars, taking a step ahead, so that the light from his dorm room reflects off their bodies. 

The sight that he witnesses with better illumination leaves him in shambles, his turn to be confused because “Why is your face blue?”, Jungkook shrieks, unable to make sense of his brother’s appearance, “Your voice sounds like a bloody gremlin and your face is blue! What did you do now, Jungyu?”, he asks exhausted. 

Eyebrows furrowed and hands waving in the air, Jungkook tries to understand what his brother might have done that ended with him looking like Cornish Pixies but he comes up with no explanation, and the somewhat guilty look on Namjoon’s face doesn’t help either.

“Please tell me it’s reversible!” Jungkook pleads desperately, but his words fall on deaf ears. Jungyu doesn’t utter a single word, staring fixedly at the floorboards as if they hold all the answers. Meanwhile, Namjoon seems determined to avoid the confrontation entirely, his gaze darting everywhere except toward Jungkook.  

The lack of response fuels Jungkook’s frustration. He storms toward Jungyu and grabs his slumped shoulder, shaking him for answers. “I already have enough bloody boulders in my life right now. I cannot handle being related to a Pixie!” he exclaims, his voice rising with each word. “You tell me what kind of buffoonery you’ve done right this instant , or I swear I’ll turn you into a Pixie for real!”  

To add weight to his threat, Jungkook slowly rolls up his sleeves in an exaggerated display of preparation, as if readying himself to wield his wand. It’s all a bluff, of course—he isn’t nearly skilled enough in Transfiguration to turn a human into anything, let alone a Pixie. But Jungyu doesn’t know that.  

Half-knowledge can be a dangerous thing, and Jungkook intends to exploit it fully. Gripping his wand, he strikes a dramatic stance, aiming it with feigned determination, as if ready to cast a spell at any moment.  

Just as he expected, the weaker one cracks.  

“He drank a potion on Hogwarts Express, don’t know what it is and these are side effects. Don’t turn him into a cockroach, please. I am afraid of them.”

“What the hell Joon! I told you to keep it shut.”

“Why the hell on earth would you drink an unknown potion! You obtuse or what?”

All of them let on together, one with trepidation, the other with treachery while Jungkook laments, exasperated at the sheer idiocy. The stunts his brother pulls leave him with hypertension and an untamable urge to commit arson. How Jungyu even got sorted into the smart house is a constant debate that he finds himself revisiting during his free time.

Once again trying to be the bigger brother, he calms himself down with a few deep breaths all while Jungyu continues to pretend oblivious and Namjoon silently pleads for the obvious with his eyes. 

After the moments of contemplation Jungkook first put Namjoon out of misery. 

“I don’t know that advanced transfiguration yet, so nobody is turning into a cockroach today,” he informs, and the other lets out a sigh of relief before turning to the disgrace of Ravenclaw. “And will you finally tell me why drinking an unknown potion seemed appealing to you?”

Still not meeting his eyes Jungyu mutters something under his breath. 

“Speak a little louder, will you?”

“I didn’t know it was a potion,” Jungy repeats, finally lifting his head to face him, though not as transparent as Jungkook would like.

“Then why did you drink it if you didn’t even know what it was?” 

“The seller on the platform said it was brewed by Ms. Lovegood.” 

“You didn’t tell me that!” Namjoon exclaims in the back and that is it, Jungkook has reached his boiling point because how could his brother be this naive and lovesick fool? 

“First of all, it’s Mrs. Lovegood, she is married” he spells it out for Jungyu a hundredth time, “And as her ardent admirer didn’t you know she is a magizoologist, not potioneer, you nitwit?” 

The evening has taken a very unwelcoming turn, and he's not enjoying it at all. Gone are the times when he was happily snuggling into Taehyung’s scent and enjoying the warm cookie. Now, he's had a headbutt with his dumb brother. Honestly, enlighten him—if anyone were to enter now, could they even accidentally think Jungy is the older sibling and a Ravenclaw at that?

“Yeah, yeah I am a fool, and dumbass, I get it,” Jungyu says with a bruise to his pride, “but would you please help me now?”

However, before Jungkook could even respond, Namjoon beat it to him. Disgruntled at the obvious ignorance his brother portrayed, the boy indignantly lets out, “We spent the whole evening searching the library for something but you didn’t even bother mentioning you purchased it on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. We wouldn’t have to rack our brains for so long if you didn’t keep that bit to yourself.”

When Jungyu looks confusedly at Namjoon, clearly not getting what the other is insinuating, Jungkook defeatedly explains, “Half of the sellers on the Platform are from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, so it’s a good chance that the liquid you drank must have been one of their practical jokes. Tell me, did you at any time display your love for Mrs. Luna in any way?”

Reluctantly when Jungyu nods his head, both Namjoon and he throw their hand nettled, “You got scammed Jungyu” he informs while ever the sweetheart Namjoon asks, “Please tell me you didn’t waste bucks on it” 

“Umm… eighty-five sickles aren’t much, right?” Jungyu mumbles, and Jungkook goes for the throat while Namjoon seems to be done with the discussion at this point.

“That’s more than half of your pocket money, you pinning idiot. The Bitch Hat sorted you into Ravenclaw, at least in the honor of it, use your brain sometimes.” he pleads to his brother before giving up as well and dragging his feet towards the inviting bed and falling face first into the fluffy mattress.

Time and time again, he is reminded of how deserving he is of the Greatest Raven title that Grandma has bestowed upon Jungyu. He is not jealous of his brother—let that be clear. However, when the rug you dreamt of gets pulled out from beneath your feet, you can’t help but feel envious of everyone with stable footing. 

It’s human nature to nitpick how you could have better fit the mold, even if you were forged for something else. He never once thought it possible for any of the Rangers to not be Ravenclaw. But now that it seems very much doable, he sees every microscopic sign that sorting isn’t really in the blood; otherwise, Jungyu wouldn’t be bleeding Hufflepuff.

He lifts his head, saving himself from suffocating in the nest of three blankets, when he feels a finger poking his side. Turning to look at who disturbed or asked for his attention depending on which one of the third years it is, he sees Jungyu standing by the bed. 

“What the hell do you want now?” he snaps at his brother, already tired of his shit, however, when he sees Jungyu with watery eyes and fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt, he feels like the worst person ever. 

A snifle escapes the third year’s throat and within a minute both him and Namjoon are by Jungyu’s side. 

“I am sorry for being rude to you.” he apologizes, sitting up straight on the bed while ushering his brother to settle beside him, “Don’t cry you didn’t know the potion would make you blue.” 

“You admire Mrs. Lovegood, we all know but being this blind for a married lady who has twins older than us isn’t very good for you, Jungyu,” Namjoon advises as he perches on the other side, concern clear in his tone. Jungkook agreeing with what the older said, adds, “I think it’s about time to stop this hopeless pining before you land yourself in some serious shit. That’s it, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Jungyu doesn’t speak for a long time, just continues to sob. They thought whatever they said landed on deaf ears but then the boy mumbled, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I stop. I don’t want to. I can’t.”

It doesn’t register in their brains that Jungyu finally said something as it was so quiet. However, when they did realize what the boy said, it didn’t make any sense to them, “What do you mean you can’t? Jungkook asks.

“I can’t stop idolizing Mrs. Luna. It’s not romantic affection, I know that. I don’t have a crush on her—no, she’s just the only one I find calm with,” Jungyu explains, his voice cracking between the silence, still barely more than a whisper. “I’m not the most intelligent Ravenclaw out there, that’s a fact. I wouldn’t mind being average, it’s what I’ve been my whole life. But when Granny said I was the most promising Ravenclaw, I suddenly wasn’t average anymore. I didn’t like the spotlight, didn’t like when every relative asked how my OWLs went.” 

Jungyu takes a deep breath and lifts his head to finally look at Jungkook. His eyes are so expressive that the younger feels a wave of vulnerability, and instinctively, he reaches out to grab his brother’s hand to ground himself. 

“I wish I could have half the certainty she had,” Jungyu continues, his voice quiet but firm. “Be an oddball but still lovable like her. I just want to do my thing, away from all the attention, and be average. I’ve sent hundreds of letters to her, though nobody knows what I wrote in them. I didn’t confess my undying love for her, like you always think.” 

Jungyu lets out a wet chuckle, “I just ask her how to be yourself without trying to fit what a Ravenclaw should be, how to be enough for yourself. She replies sometimes, you know? Not always, she’s a busy woman, but she does.”

Jungkook feels as if his heart is beating in his ears, stunned that the evening has taken a turn like this. The painful silence, with Namjoon excluding himself from the conversation, only makes the ringing in his ears louder, and Jungyu’s vulnerability heavier. He never thought his brother was carrying this much inside whenever he was babbling. His brain is always loudest in the quiet, but maybe Jungyu isn’t like him—he certainly isn’t. 

“I’m not some great wizard. I never considered myself one,” Jungyu says, his voice wavering. “I always thought it’d be you, the youngest of our rangers, who’d be the best Ranger . But Granny said it’s me, and…” His words trail off, as if beaten by the weight of it all. His frame slumps, folding in on itself. “You deserve it more than anything, Kookie. You do. And I don’t know what to do. Her stones are never wrong,” he finishes, shoulders lifting in a dejected gesture.

Maybe it’s the ringing in his ears, or maybe it’s the raw emotion hanging in the air, but Jungkook can’t help but mutter, “I’m sorted into Slytherin,” even quieter than before. “My house is not Ravenclaw.”

He doesn’t say anything else, letting the words linger in the air, open to interpretation. Jungyu glances at Namjoon for confirmation of some sort, but the older boy offers nothing more than a silent nod.

“You are not?” Jungyu asks innocently, wiping his nose before adding, “I don’t understand, how can you not be a Raven? Are you just saying this because of what I said—”

Jungkook doesn’t let him finish, rapidly shaking his head, he speaks over the boy before he thinks it has anything to do with that, “No, I am serious, during the Sorting ceremony the hat was torn between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. And I said some dumb shit which that ugly piece of fabric thought was funny and bloody played with me. I am not making it up, I promise.”

Jungyu, with furrowed eyebrows, stays silent for a minute, processing the information Jungkook just dumped on him. Jungkook and Namjoon wait for him, knowing that revealing this after Jungyu had poured his heart out wasn’t the best idea, but he needed something to distract his brother, and nothing would do that better than his own misery.

“So, you’re a Slytherin now? As in, you’ll wear a silver and green scarf? Green isn’t even your favorite color,” Jungyu finally asks, breaking the silence.

Not to be insensitive or anything, but if this is what worries his brother, then all that talk about being average was the most intelligent thing he’s said all night. And from the way Namjoon is looking at him, with a hint of subtle judgment, the older boy might be thinking the same.

“But maybe it isn’t true anymore,” Jungyu adds thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on Jungkook’s chest. “Because you’re wearing a green sweater now. I saw you snuggling into it when we busted into the room, so maybe it’s your favorite. Where did you buy it? It looks comfy.” He reaches out to feel the fabric, humming when he finds that it’s not just soft-looking but actually is, while Jungkook curses his own choice of words.

He spoke too soon, didn’t he? His brother might not be the brightest of minds but is surely observant, enough to make up for the lack of wits.

“Just brought on a whim from somewhere, don’t remember. You don’t worry about it and neither about me getting sorted into Slytherin. I am taking care of it. I’ll be Ravenclaw soon, it’s all under control.” Jungkook babbles, hoping his brother focuses on important topics instead of the sweater he is wearing. 

And it works because he lifts his eyes to match his, “You’re taking care of it? How?” he asks with raised eyebrows.

However, before Jungkook could open his mouth to elaborate, from the corner of his eyes, he catches something sliding under the door. He turns his head, and Namjoon and Jungyu do as well, to see someone slip an envelope through the crack and into the room. 

What catches his attention the most is the green wax seal, stamped with an impression of snakes. Despite being a first-year, Jungkook has read enough guides about Hogwarts to know that it’s a seal reserved for people in certain positions—like a Slytherin Headmaster, for instance.

Curious, he walks up to the envelope, grabs it, and breaks the seal open to reveal a letter inside, while Namjoon moves toward the door. “No one’s in the corridor; it’s empty,” the third-year informs him.

“What is it?” Jungyu asks from where he is seated.

But Jungkook doesn’t respond to him. Busy reading the letter, his eyes gradually widen as they take in what is written on the delicate parchment.

“I have to go.” he announces to no one in particular while tucking the letter back in the envelope and inside his pocket. Hurriedly he moves to grab his wand from the bed. Beside him, Jungyu, with a hint of irritation and confusion in his tone, asks, “Wha—where? Jungkook, will you even tell me anything clearly?”

Jungkook just replies, “Sorry I can’t explain now but ask Namjoon anything, he’ll fill you in, right Joon?” to which the boy, baffled himself, nods his head.

And even though he feels guilty about leaving his brother and best friend hanging, he needs to rush to the third-year wing. Tucked inside his back pocket, he finally has a way to the Sorting Hat’s spirit, he can’t waste any more time.

It doesn’t take more than two knocks for the door to open. 

It was a gamble, to be honest. Jugkook stormed here without a second thought, but catching the boy at this time was not certain; by the looks of it, he would have missed it if he was even a minute late. With a satchel hung across the shoulder, Taehyung stands on the other side of the room, ready to be somewhere.

“Th—the letter—Professor—read it please.” he huffs between his rigged breaths and shows the green sealed envelope to the startled boy. The run really did a number on him, didn’t it?

Taehyung, as the ever-calm and collected gentleman he is, quietly takes the paper from between his fingers, “Shut the door behind you”, is all he says while turning around to walk back into the room. And Jungkook, still catching his breath, does as told before following the boy inside.

Carefully placing the satchel on the nightstand, Taehyung grabs the glass of water beside it and offers it to Jungkook, “Drink some, you need it.”

Jungkook nods his head in gratitude as he accepts the glass to soothe his dry throat while Taehyung goes to sit on the bed and ushers him to do the same. Once his rigged breaths tame down a little, the third year retrieves the letter from the envelope, unfolds it, and reads. 

Jeon Jungkook,

It’s a very well-kept secret, what you cited in your letter, and if it wasn’t for Jinnie insisting, as you have mentioned, I wouldn’t have even responded.

So hoping you understand the seriousness of the matter and do not confer about it with anyone (except with the person whose messenger you employed, as you will be needing their aid), I may now tell you the way to the soul. 

But remember either of you cannot be seen on your row or else it’ll bring immense misfortune, one you have never dreamt or wished upon your greatest enemies.

When the clock strikes midnight on Hallow’s Eve, all the spirits run free in the metaphysical world. A vessel in the untainted lithos channels the soul you are looking for. Though there is nothing to behold, for it is intangible, a presence and voice will be all you’ll feel. Ask what you will, and it’ll be acknowledged, in what way, however, can’t be sworn upon. You may try your hand, in the Tahira Cavern below the walls of this castle, as the plea can only be heard once.

Thist is the most I can let you know.

This parchment will destroy itself within the quarter of the hour it touches all those it’s meant to be read by. 

And don’t forget—you can’t be seen.

I hope you’ll find what you are looking for.

Sincerely,
Jung H.

And the letter bursts into purple flames, similar to the ones Professor Jung conjures, the moment Taehyung finishes reading—leaving nothing behind as the testimony of its existence.

“I thought Tahira Cavern were just fables,” Jungkook says, fingers playing with the wax seal of the envelope, funny how it didn’t turn into ashes.

“So was the spirit until now and so is magic to muggles,” Taehyung mumbles, curling his fingers to lock the tenuous heat of the letter into the palm of his hand before meeting Jungkook's eyes, “which means the chronicles about its way are true as well.” 

The Tahira Cavern, for time old, has been fabled as a dream, an analogy of an unsullied lacuna that can only be seen if the spectator wasn’t consciously searching for it. Hence, all the stories about this mystical cave don’t describe what it looks like, the willing seekers only feel the exuberance of its phantom walls and never witness them. 

For a place this sought after, one might consider it well concealed but no, the Cavern is located just below the foundation of Hogwarts. However, what makes it a kid’s tale instead of a fathomable wonder is the way to it.

Somewhere between the fourth and fifth corridor of the west wing is a hole in the wall, magically disguised as a painting that either leads to the Tahira Cave or the heart of Forbidden Forrest, depending on, if you entice the cave enough to let you in. But the catch is, nobody knows which, among the paintings of temperamental skittish wizards, is the one you are looking for. 

And if Professor Jung warned them to not be seen, Jungkook doesn’t know how they would find it without risking touching and waking those grumpy sorcerers. 

“Yeah, but how will we find the right painting? We need to touch it to see if it’s a magical spell or a real one, and the moment one of those sleeping wizards wakes up, our cover will be blown. We’ll be seen and have to bear the curse—or whatever Professor Jung meant by misfortune,” he says, chewing the corner of his bottom lip, while Taehyung hums in agreement.

Sitting with his head in his hands, he tries to think of any way they could find the right painting, any incantation he’s learned, or a charm he’s read about, but comes up with nothing. Of course, there’s no simple way to get to the door of the Cavern; it’s been a fable for a reason. And forget about actually entering it.

“I think I’ll do it myself, it’s my problem I can’t drag you with it if anything does go south,” Jungkook says after long contemplation, “you helped me to deliver the letter, as well as trusting me enough to show Tannie, I am thankful for it but I have to look for this alone.” 

Taehyung doesn’t interrupt him, just silently watches his every move as Jungkook rambles, “It’s quarter to nine now and dinner will be served in half an hour, so if I reach the west wing by then, the corridors will be empty for me to play whack-a-mole with those sleepyheads, right?”

Nervously chuckling, he looks at the other boy for confirmation. Taehyung doesn’t crush his expectations either, giving a slight nod in response. “So, I’ll get going then. Thank you for everything… yeah,” and he beelines toward the door.

It feels like he’s walking into a war, doesn’t it? With all that bloody long pondering and the magical mumbo-jumbo Professor Jung put in the letter, it sure does. So, to make sense of it: if he manages to find the painting, he could slip through the tunnel and end up either in the Forbidden Forest or at the cave’s entrance. If it’s the Forest, at least Taehyung knows where to find him, in case he doesn’t show up tomorrow. And if it’s the cave—then hallelujah.

To be honest, he’s acting all brave and like a one-man army because, somewhere in his heart, he still holds onto that sliver of hope that Professor Jung gave him a lolly and that the cave doesn’t actually exist. Okay, a large part of his quivering mind is actively praying for that, but—better to die courageously in front of your crush, right?

The door is only one step away now. Taking a deep breath and praying to everything magical, he reaches for the doorknob. Standing still with it in his grasp, he takes a moment to calm his shaking legs. ‘You can do it. It’s all a joke. The Cavern doesn’t exist. Just go there once, find nothing, and then go back to Professor Jung for an alternative. Yeah, you can do it,’ he cheers his weeping soul before turning the knob and opening the gateway to his doom.

However, he can’t take a step forward as Taehyung’s voice stops him in his tracks. “How do you plan on not being seen? Do you perhaps have the invisibility cloak or something?”

Sullen, he turns around to face the boy.

 “I don’t have it, I didn’t think that far actually.” he mumbles, embarrassed at his lack of tact, and to make matters worse Taehyung tsks, “And you call yourself Ravenclaw ?”

Offended that Taehyung used that to mock him, Jungkook momentarily abandons his adventure plans and stomps towards where the boy is seated. 

“It simply slipped my mind, human nature, doesn’t mean I am not a Raven.” he says with furrowed eyebrows which he is sure look a tad bit intimidating, peering into the third-year eyes and trying his best to not melt into a puddle.

But maybe it didn’t work the way he wanted as Taehyung chuckles under his breath. Eyes-to-eyes and chest-to-chest now, he stands up to return the piercing gaze before muttering, “The same way it slipped that you are wearing my sweater now?”

Jungkook’s cheeks flush, pulse ringing in his ears, and gaze stuck on anywhere other than the boy’s eyes, he somehow manages to stand tall. However, when slender fingers gently lay on his chest to feel the cashmere his knees give up.

The fingers slither from his chest and curve around his waist, never leaving the contact for even a moment, as Taehyung sits beside him on the cold floor to hold him, “No remarks, darling?”

The warm breath fanning his face makes his thoughts muddled, incoherent to form any concrete sentences, Jungkook just shakes his head. His stomach feels funny when he notices how a smile makes its way to Taehyung’s eyes first and lips after.

“I am pleased to hear that.” he says while tucking a stray piece of hair behind Jungkook’s ears, all while the boy stares wide-eyed at him, colour not even once leaving his cheeks. “And now that we have established that you are brave, forgettful-stubborn cute little bean, why don’t you lemme help you.”

When he shakes his head to disagree, Taehyung holds his chin, “Uhn-hn, I have something to help you and you’ll let me, do you understand, darling?” 

And how can Jungkook say no when those imploring eyes enchant him to give in?

So, he does, nods his head and gives in to Taehyung.

Chapter Text

In retrospect, when Taehyung said he’d help him, Jungkook thought it would involve tagging along and maybe playing the knight in shining armor when the time came. That’s what it usually entails, right? 

Protagonist A accompanies Protagonist B on their self-imposed, perilous mission, so when an evil, filthy little witch tries to abduct the beloved damsel in distress, they save them, kiss, celebrate, and live happily ever after, right?

Wrong.

Because Taehyung seems to be way up in the game with a lot more self-preservation than any dumb hero. Simply put, the Sly Prince whipped up an Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map at his service, subsequently catching the poor boy’s breath with the wicked display of cleverness and charm.

Which is how Jungkook found himself tip-toeing into the west wing, wrapped up in the Cloak with Taehyung. A hand is draped around his shoulder, pressing him more into the warmth of the body behind him, with a chin tucked in the crook of the neck, breath constantly fanning over his flamed skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

The distance at which one can feel another’s pulse against their sternum, Jungkook walks with Taehyung’s feet parallel to his, one foot between the other, while trying to focus on not tripping because of the proximity. 

This is the closest he has ever been to the boy, excluding the sweater incident, of course,  as it’s more of a lucid dream in his memories than anything else. Though the insistent scent of lavender surrounding him proves otherwise, the way Taehyung’s nose tickles his nape, the smell might have as well bled into his skin by now. 

The closeness, contrary to what one may think, is extremely undesired at the moment because it’s blurring his senses. His thoughts are so cluttered that Taehyung has to whisper in his ear, “Careful, darling, we can’t be seen.” A shiver runs down his spine, setting him straight.

So far, his staggering hasn’t been much of a hindrance, as the corridors were empty, with no one to catch sight of four feet without a body strolling down the hallway. But now that they are about to turn toward the West Wing, caution must be in every movement.

“The painting is actually between the fourth and fifth corridor,” Taehyung murmurs, in case of any wandering ears before holding the Marauder’s Map in front of Jungkook and tapping the flickering dots near the floating ink of West Wing , “They are drifting between the walls of both the corridors, they are not steady.”

Now, that’s a snag. Trying to touch a still painting was relatively easy, but reaching out to nudge a rustling one is a gamble—especially when the portraits are perpetually phasing. If the flicker on the map is anything to go by, their journey will be finished before it even begins.

“How can we nudge the one we are looking for without disturbing another?” he asks turning around to face Taehyung, “There are at least twenty of them, their movement isn’t going to give us time to identify, much less touch.”

Taehyung seems to contemplate the solution while Jungkook takes hold of the map from his grasp and tries to time their movements but it proves to be futile as the paintings move with no specific pattern. Sometimes the portrait of Daniel Wingfield appears on the fourth floor for six seconds and sometimes it’s Acelina Bramfield lounging for a mere three seconds. There is no semblance to either their appearance or position, except all of the wizards in the portraits are sleeping and will raise hell if woken up from their flukey sleep.

“How about you hold me and reach for the painting on my mark?” Taehyung proposes, “I will track their movement on the map and recite the wizards’ names as they appear.” 

Jungkook following what Taehyung is suggesting, finishes up for him, “And when a painting emerges but no name shows up I’ll reach out for it and pull you along with me.” 

“Now, aren’t you a Raven .” Taehyung teases, with a pleased smile, as he maneuvers himself in front of Jungkook, “Come on, let's get you to your house.”

With Taehyung hugging him, sternum aligned and mouth near his ear, Jungkook takes a breath before treading towards the awaiting West Wing.

The sight that welcomes them, can only be described by the very word Hogwarts is built about, magical.

Colors appear in flashes, similar to the twinkling star on the brink of its fall, meandering through the cracks of the wall. Sometimes it’s a bronze hat waiting for the count of two to be taken in by the beholder before it is replaced by the sangari robe of another sleeping witch. The charm doesn’t only end there, no, it is integrated with how the hair strands shimmer with the most prominent color in their palate as it flows in the direction of the motion.

“It’s beautiful.” Jungkook whispers, dazed by the beauty he has never seen, ephemeral in every sense.

“Is it?” Taehyung mumbles in his ear, as the boy has his back turned to the exquisite magic. Jungkook feels pity for his loss, alas, it’s once in a lifetime view and he can’t stir into any extra movements or the rustling will wake their bane. 

“Yeah, it is.” he answers before resting his hand on Taehyung’s hips to guide his steps as he walks closer to the paintings. 

Taehyung, getting the hint, starts to recite the wizards' names as they appear on the map’s floating ink while Jungkook zeros on the paintings emerging in front of him, waiting for the moment when no name is uttered. 

A woman with ginger, short hair slightly parted to the side—Sybil Cressy

Squinting brown eyes muddled with dreams, set appealingly within their sockets—Yi Subin

A craggy, tense face adorning a scar reaching from just under the right eye, running towards—Obi Zeki Eyoab

Nose bigger than the eyes, wrinkling to sniff nothing before pout forms as the cupid bow and nose tip touch—Zedekiah

Captivating features with perfect placement, something so familiar about the furrowed eyebrows and full set of lips, has he seen this Aphro—

“No name, Jungkook”   

And as he was anticipating those words, gingerly holding onto Taehyung, he lunged toward the enchanted frame in time for both of their bodies to get sucked in. Plunging into the abyss, Jungkook clutches Taehyung’s cardigan in a vice grip while the boy maneuvers the cloak to wrap it around his shoulders and tug him into his chest.

With no sense of direction or time, they fall into a tunnel of darkness, tumbling for what feels like an eternity, both waiting to land. No sound, other than the wind cutting through the force of their descent, breaks the silence. Jungkook keeps his eyes shut, praying that the awaiting destination is anything but the Forest.

Just when his pulse was about to drop lower than their dive, a swirl of gleam appears behind his closed eyelids. He lifts his head from between Taehyung’s clavicle to see, fearing that their touchdown might not be smooth, however, a hand on his nape cradles him back into blissful ignorance.

“Everything will be alright, I got you” Taehyung whispers, pressing his head on his chest. 

The steady beating of other’s heart helps Jungkook to synchronize his. He tries to breathe with every rise of the bone beneath his ear, relaxing his lungs whenever a warm puff of air blows his hair. It loosens the tension in his ribs, yet, the tranquility is short-lived as the thumbing that was centering him suddenly picks its pace right before something cold engulfs his feet.

He snaps open his eyes to see, but the view is blurry, providing nothing but anxiety for his mind. Breathing is long forgotten because it’s the ice-cold water they’ve dived into. The tension inevitably returns, this time traveling faster than his body can cope with. His movements become shackled; he can’t tighten his grip on the cardigan because his fingers won’t move. 

Taehyung gestures for him to swim, but his legs feel numb as the cold pricks his skin, leaving him frozen and shuddering. Even waddling to keep himself afloat seems like a daunting task.

His face is contorted with pain, paralyzed to the bone. Moving a limb that feels like it weighs a ton is taking a toll on him. Though Taehyung tries to bear the weight of both of them, as Jungkook’s body has ceased to function, it’s futile. No matter how much the boy waddles, the water pulls them under. It’s as if they are not swimming toward the surface but away from it.

Taehyung doesn’t give up—not like him, at least. He keeps pushing to surge forward, trying to keep them afloat until they are no longer sinking.

Jungkook has never been this afraid in his life.

Terrified might be the better word, because the water that was drowning them before is suddenly helping them stay afloat. The coldness is no longer numbing, and the currents are soothing warmth to his stupefied limbs. Most of all, for whatever godforsaken reason, when he tries to inhale, no liquid suffocates him. The blue darkness surrounding them glows fluorescent, and fear settles deep in his bones because all of this feels like a dream.

He looks at Taehyung, and when their eyes meet, both of them open their mouths wide. Water, as expected, rushes into the low-pressure area, but no choking follows. When the throat relaxes, it’s not the liquid that reaches the lungs but air.

They can breathe underwater.

However, before they can do anything with this newfound ability, a strong surge of current propels them upwards. Negative to gravity, the disturbed waves of murky water jostle them toward the supposed surface. A surface which they can’t locate as there is no light to give the depth a perspective.

They don’t let go of each other at any point during this impromptu drive either. Jungkook’s fingers are still curled within the yarn of Taehyung’s sweater, and similarly, the boy’s palms are engraving their impression on Jungkook’s shoulders, just above the invisibility cloak draped over them.

Just like there was no warning before they were swamped by the raving flux, there is no bugle when the current force puts in its fleeting momentum and projects them out of the water. Spouting as if blown by a baleen whale, both Jungkook and Taehyung are washed ashore.

Now, if this were a normal case of drowning and resurfacing, they would be coughing their lungs out and gasping for air, but since they were bestowed with the ability to extract oxygen even through water, nothing of the sort occurs. Rubbing the ball of their palms into their eyes to rinse off the remains of their valiant journey, they stand on their wobbly legs.

“Well, that was something” Jungkook comments, dusting off imaginary sand from his pants.

When his eyes take in the land they are standing on, he swallows all the words on the tip of his tongue because it is not rock or sand that he is standing on.

Beneath his feet lay a mosaic of glass tiles, refracting whatever light could reach the pit of the cave to illuminate the surroundings. Luminescent liquid bleeds between the edges of its asymmetrical gaps while the abyssal currents glimmer navy under the surface. A sight so hauntingly beautiful that Jungkook subliminally staggers back, creating a delicate echo that reverberates through the expanse of its crystalline walls.  

“Even if someone was here to witness this, nobody would have been eloquent enough to articulate this beauty” Taehyung murmurs from where he is silently observing the stalactites and stalagmites merge seamlessly into the delicate arches of the roof. 

Lifting his head to look, Jungkook agrees.

No ink could justify the way those myriads of colors weave a tapestry of enchantment on the flesh, as if the universe itself had conspired to create this fleeting moment of sublime beauty. Any and every script would fail to describe the desperation of the watcher to trace the light-accentuated contour of the lips, or to delineate the elegance of the nose and the subtle curve of the jaw. 

Absolutely nothing could enunciate, Jungkook thinks, the way this boy glows azure amidst the wonder of dainty harmony, fainting the aura of ancient magic in front of his resplendence.

“Words fail at Tahira’s cracked glass, don't they?” Taehyung asks, eyes finally leaving the crystals of the wall as he expectantly looks at him. 

Jungkook shakes his head, conceding that words do fail at blemished perfection , however, keeping it to himself that it’s not the Cavern in his nod. The silence stretches for a few seconds as their pupils dilute, taking in each other’s unspoken phrases, before Taehyung extends his hand forward. 

“It could strike midnight any moment, we should stick together in case any of that repeats.” he says, flicking his wrist around, insinuating the deep dive they just experienced. 

Jungkook agreeing, slips his fingers in between Taehyung’s. Seeing the slender digits intervening with his bony ones sets the butterflies free in the stomach but nothing of that makes its way to his face, just like any other time. 

Looking at the bewitching trail concealed by the fog, Jungkook suggests, “We should probably see where it leads, there is no other passage or pathway around” 

Taehyung bobs his head before, bending down to collect the soaked cloak and map with his free hand.

“Aren’t you going to close it? The map?” Jungkook asks as they begin to step forward. 

“We might need it if our exit is going to be as unexpected as our entry, better have it handy than wasting seconds to unlock.” Taehyung replies before tucking both of the charmed possessions into the safety of his pocket.

23:59:48, 30 October, XXXX

Jungkook reads, the Tempus Charm telling the time on the wisps of smoke, as they stand in the heart of Tahira Cavern.

“The spirit might arrive any moment.” Taehyung says, holding the illuminated tip of his wand above their heads, given that the cave is below the foundation of Hogwarts, a beam of light is undoubtedly a novelty.

He nods, eyes trained on the ticking seconds— 56…57…58…

The lit-up tip extinguishes a second before it chimes Hallow, engulfing the transparent wall into a blanket of darkness.

Jungkook’s grip on Taehyung’s hand tightens as he witnesses purple fumes emerging through the wall's cracks. The tendrils of vapor continue to expand, soon covering the whole expanse of the roof as it looms over their head. Sometimes a part of the hovering cloud glows magenta, as if about to strike a light but no thunder follows. The water also gleams its luminescence with the foggy radiation, while the glass refracts the light from this spectacular.

This flare display continues to burn brighter until the light intensity is refracted enough to illuminate the cavern. Once the crevices of the surface are visible, the purple cloud finally rumbles,

By autumn's moon, when shadows waltz,
A spirit wakes from timeless vaults.
Ephemeral wisps in the moonlit air,
Centuries-old, yet free from despair.

Magic unfolds in a spectral trance,
As Halloween grants a spectral chance.
To witness the spirit, ageless and free,
A guardian of lore and mystery.

So, on this night, when veils grow thin,
The answer to any unknown shall be given,
To the seeker that isn't one for pompous show,
A daring soul challenging fate's flow.

The heavy voice finishes as the wafting fog maneuvers toward the crystalline centerpiece in the middle of the cave. Though the light only reflects enough to make out its dimensions, the undeniable fact that it is an extension of the Tahira Cavern is already clear in Jungkook’s eyes.

Upon reaching the transparent statue, the cloud gathers itself into a concentrated mass, swirling with an intensified brilliance before it eagerly merges within the hollows of the structure. Wisps of amethyst tendrils cascaded through its walls, amalgamation so seamless as if the glass had become a vessel for the very essence of the drifting mist.

“Ask what you will, and it’ll be acknowledged, in what way, however, can’t be sworn upon. Careful with the words as the plea can only be heard once, for second chances in this dance are forever gone.” The spirit’s gravelly tone reveals, the crevices gleaming lilac between each pause.

Jungkook so dazed by the raw alchemy laid bare, forgets that the spirit is talking to him. The slight nudge on his shoulder by Taehyung, however, brings him out of his reverie.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook takes a step forward, chest thumbing with the sheer magic pulsing in the air, and speaks in a timid voice, “I am Jeon Jungkook—youngest of the Raven Rangers. I was sorted into Slytherin during the sorting ceremony, which I think is a mistake. Can you please sort me right?”

“The sorting, through meticulous pondering, is only done once.” Jungkook deflates hearing the words, so much hassle just to be told what’s already known. At least, taking all the hurdles they went through into account, give him something worth more than a piece of information that can easily be found in rhymes for 5-year-olds.

“However,” the spirit rumbles after a long pause, “if you can unravel this prose, you will be sorted into Ravenclaw, no question asked. But remember this only stays between the current witnesses, which means no help from outside.”

Jungkook, ecstatic to finally have his way, shakes his head with vigor as the spirit recites the verse.

“The night when this chase began, the fate had already devised its plan, to bring two souls together, and bind them with common intent. You have met me, child, think in retrospect, fingers ethereal, yet solid and real, a phantom touch tangible. 'Dear reader,' I kindly insist, with words sincere, look through the letters, I was never a hinder. Now go boy, shake my hand when we meet again, though it will pass through, you know ‘cause you tried. In the lap of fate, where destinies align, I hope you find what you seek, a treasure to confide.”

And these final words, the cave resides back into the darkness. Stunned by the sudden shift of atmosphere Jungkook staggers, back colliding with Taehyung’s chest he grips the hand that holds his hips to stabilize him. 

A series of ominous creaks penetrates the silence, catching his attention—before he can pivot to pinpoint the source, the crevices on the cave's surface abruptly widen. They stand in awe as the once-glimmering glass, adorned in amethyst and navy hues, metamorphoses into the iconic red bricks of Hogwarts' wall.  

In just a few fleeting moments, the crystalline walls effortlessly transform, reverting to the very space from whence they embarked—an unmistakable return to Taehyung's room.

Still grappling with the bewildering spectacle, Jungkook remains baffled near the bedpost. Taehyung, whose hand he still holds, shakes him gently, "So, umm…do you want me to drop you to your room?"

And Jungkook wordlessly nods.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖

It’s getting progressively difficult for him not to snap. On one side, Jungyu is excitedly babbling about some kind-hearted Weasley who gave him an ointment that’ll turn him back into a human. 

Meanwhile, on the other side, Namjoon is intellectually deliberating on how Flitterbloom is just a tamed version of Devil’s Snare. To top it off, some pig-tailed muttonheads at the table behind them are erupting into fits of boisterous laughter every now and then.

Can anybody please cut him some slack, he is functioning on barely three hours of sleep, the grumpiness is bound to bleed through.

Icing on the cake, nothing has been going right since today started.

Firstly, there was the bloody adventure in Tahira Cavern, which he can’t share with anyone because it’s supposed to be hush-hush. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he got handed a damned riddle to solve if he wants to be a Ranger! 

The effing audacity of that purple smoke to serve him a puzzle instead of a spelt-out solution—he deserves that much mercy after all the risks he took.

But no, the misery doesn’t end there.

Carefree, he went to sleep, only to be rudely awakened at the ass-crack of dawn, about four hours into the night. Why? Surprise! It’s Halloween, and the classes have been shifted to the morning slot again—a fact he completely forgot. 

Still, he cheered himself up. After all, one can always sneak in a mid-class nap, right? But during class, he realized the teachers were dreadfully efficient today, even going so far as to individually call on every student to answer questions from the lesson. 

(Later, he learned it's all because one of the higher-ups is coming for an inspection.)

Thank God for Professor Min—that man couldn’t care less about any bloody stuck-up higher-up more than his daily siesta during class. It gave him a chance to catch a break too.

"...yeah, Kookie, wasn't there yesterday." Jungkook's attention snaps back to the conversation as soon as he hears Jungyu mention his name.

Snagging the pumpkin pudding from the plate before him, he nonchalantly hums, "Missing? Where exactly was I MIA? I practically lived in those lectures all day, not to mention, you raid my room in the evening. So where do these missing allegations come from? I don't recall being absent from anywhere specific."

Rolling his eyes at him, Jungyu reminds, “You practically ran out of the room after that letter. Where did you go, anyway? You didn’t come for dinner either. Joonie said you probably went to someone helping you with you know…the sorting stuff and all. What’s the actual tea?”

So, Namjoon didn’t disclose the big reveal, it seem. 

Truthfully, he just blurted out about filling Jungyu about the deal because if he were to know it was a Madhouse Sly helping him, he’d probably elevate to the spiritual realm. 

Scratching the back of his head, Jungkook nervously chuckles, “It’s no one special Gyu.” he says, in a perfunctory attempt to dodge the confrontation.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Namjoon's face-palming, and suddenly the smell of cinnamon-spiced treats in front of him is no longer appealing. Would it be dramatic if he abandoned the Halloween Fest to avoid this conversation?

“You never accept anybody’s help, Love Luna, who is this charmer, tell me right this instant. I will buy them anything they want for Christmas, they deserve it.” Jungyu exclaims, eyes shining bright with curiosity.

"I doubt he'll be interested in anything you have to offer." Sitting beside him, Namjoon nonchalantly comments, prompting Jungyu to glance at him perplexed.

Seeing no escape from it, Jungkook takes a deep breath before finally disclosing, "Well, it’s Taehyung. He’s the one helping me."

Jungyu's eyes widen in shock, his jaw droppin'. " Ice Prince Taehyung?" he echos, incredulous. "There ain’t no way he’d do it for free, Madhouse isn’t that generous. Are you sure he isn’t playing you?"

Jungkook sighs. 

This is what he was trying to deflect, Jungyu judging Taehyung based on his kin. 

"I get why you might think that, but Taehyung is nothing like his family. He’s been nothing but sincere with his efforts from the beginning. I don’t think anyone will go that out of the bond just to help some first-year.”  he tries to explain without giving away too much, “He’s a sweetheart, trust me." 

Jungyu narrows his eyes, studying Jungkook’s face as if searching for cracks in the facade. Then, with a knowing smirk, he declares, "You’ve got a crush on him, don’t you? It’s the first time I’ve seen you jump to someone’s defense like this, and Sweetheart! Boy, you’re down bad."

Jungkook’s cheeks blaze with a betraying flush, but Jungyu barrels on, unfazed. "Ah, yet another fallen soldier, conquered by his enigmatic charms. Hate to break it to you, brother, but Taehyung doesn’t give his admirers a second glance. Ask Namjoon—he’s seen it all. They don’t call him the Ice Prince for nothing."

He leans back with a dramatic sigh, as if delivering the final blow. "You could be sucked dry by a Death Eater, and Taehyung’s perfect features wouldn’t so much as twitch. Hard to believe, but trust me, he doesn’t care."

“Why don’t you tell him about how Taehyung saved you not just once, but twice?” Namjoon interjects, his tone maddeningly casual. “Oh, and don’t forget to mention the time he walked you back to your room.”

Namjoon, the master of well-timed chaos, delivers his line with an air of complete indifference, as if he hadn’t just lobbed a grenade into the conversation. He casually picks up another baked potato, munching away like nothing happened.

Jungyu takes his sweet time processing the bombshell, his gaze flicking back and forth between Namjoon and Jungkook. The latter, no longer flesh and bone but seemingly transformed into a ball of blush, avoids his eyes.

Finally, Jungyu speaks, his tone nonchalant. “Well, good for you, I guess. Also, if it’s possible, could you please persuade Taehyung to locate Miss Luna’s stolen lion-topped hat? I heard Madhouse has its ways, and I’ve been searching for it to no avail. I’d owe him whatever he asks if he could… you know… find it in the black market or something like that.”

The two sane members of the trio gape at the sheer buffoonery of the third. As expected, Jungkook and Namjoon exchange silent glances, lips pursed in mutual judgment of Jungyu, while the boy, with oblivious hopeful eyes, waits for affirmation. 

The awkward silence stretches, and just before Jungkook is about to open his mouth to knock some sense into Jungyu, a pat on the shoulder takes his attention away. 

He turns to find someone behind him, momentarily breaking the tension.

“Jeon Jungkook,” a petite and wiry house elf with emerald-green eyes asks, continuing when Jungkook nods in acknowledgment, “ Mistress Kim Hee-Yeon is asking for you, would you please follow me.” 

Without awaiting any reply, the elf scurries away, his tiny frame moving with surprising speed and agility. Jungkook exchanges a bewildered glance with Namjoon and Jungyu, hoping for some guidance, but they appear to be just as clueless as him.

Gazing back in the direction the stuffy elf disappeared, Jungkook ponders for a few minutes before opting to trail the elf's rapid footsteps.

It turns out Kim Hee-Yeon is not only the matriarch of the Pure-blood Slytherin Madhouse but also the mother of none other than Kim Taehyung—who, as luck would have it, is also present at this impromptu meeting.

Seated in the center of Headmaster Hayek’s office, the Sly Mistress exudes an air of regal authority. Her sharp obsidian eyes gleam with intelligence and cunning, though they lack the empathy and warmth her son’s gaze carries. Despite her commanding presence, the familial connection isn’t immediately obvious. 

If not for the strikingly similar cascade of raven-black hair and the elevated cheekbones sculpting her face, Jungkook might have struggled to believe this woman and Taehyung were related at all.

"You can return to the feast, Gabriella. I'd like to have a chat with Mister Jeon and my son," she says to Professor Hayek, her eyes unwavering since the moment he arrived.

"But it'd be better if I—" Professor tries to speak, however, Mistress Hee-Yeon doesn't let her finish. "I humbly request , Headmistress Hayek, please ," her tone completely defies the notion that it's uttered as a request.

Cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being spoken over in front of her students, disregarding her position as Headmistress, Professor Hayek wordlessly bowed to Mistress Hee-Yeon before bidding her departure.

“You can’t talk to her like that Mother, it’s her office. If you want to have a chat in private then why don't you relocate rather than disrespectfully dismissing her?” Taehyung seethes, although the voice never breaks the silence of the room, his words are loud enough to show his displeasure. “Hogwarts is big enough, I am sure you’d find some other vacant room for a chatter.”

Mistress Hee-Yeon’s gaze snaps to her son, scrutinizing his stance in a way that sends a shiver down Jungkook’s spine, “I said, please, sweetheart. Didn’t you notice?” her manner acutely contrasts as if she is genuinely perplexed by Taehyung’s words.

Taehyung doesn't seem surprised by that; rather, he appears accustomed to it. "Of course, I noticed. However, I also noticed the underlying warning in your words, Mother, and I assure you it was far from a request," he says, sounding defeated that his mother couldn’t fathom such an obvious fault in delivery.

“Looks like you have grown a tongue, son.” Faux sweetness dripping in the crinkle of her eyes, “Now, if you be a good boy and sit quietly while I have a chat with Mister Jeon here, it’ll be wonderful.”

Taehyung doesn’t speak after that. Just mutters, “Yes, Mother.” before walking towards where the elf is standing. His mother, pleased with having her way, turns her attention to Jungkook. 

“So, Mister Jeon,” she starts.

“Jungkook—would be fine.”

Her gaze narrows, hand reaching to fondle the silver serpent pendant around her neck, “Jungkook, of course, assertive just like your father.” she rasps, “Pity he died young, didn’t he? Might have lived a longer life if he stuck with the wizarding world and hadn’t worked at that bank. Tell me boy, what good came from the stubborn righteousness? Nothing.”

“He might have Mistress, you are absolutely right.”

Her lips lift in a malevolent smile upon hearing Jungkook’s words but soon vanishes when he continues, “If only wizards with rudimentary beliefs hadn’t shunned him from any magical matters because he married a muggle. He would have lived a life long, long enough to explain this to you himself. I agree”

“Mother~”

“I asked you to not speak, sweetheart. Please, be quiet.” she utters through gritted teeth, once again silencing Taehyung. When their eyes meet, Jungkook can discern the remorse in them. He attempts to reassure him that it is not his fault, but Taehyung’s frown doesn’t ease.

It makes his heart ache.

“Anyways, Jungkook, tell me, are you and my son friends of some sort?” Mistress Hee-Yeon asks, disregarding anything that transpired prior. “Because it seems he has another fixation to dote over. Aren’t you two hanging out together often?”

If it was anyone else, Jungkook might question how they know this much and why it concerns them, but it’s Sly Mistress, grade-A Madhouse blood. Of course, it bothers her if a leaf twitches without her permission.

“I was mistakenly sorted into Slytherin, so Taehyung is helping me find my way to the house I truly belong to—hence the hanging out you mentioned. And with all the effort he’s put into helping me, you might as well call us friends.”  

He delivers the explanation with practiced calm, aiming to satisfy her curiosity without revealing more than what was directly asked.  

Her face lights up as if she has found some treasured gold upon hearing this, “ Salazar! You are a Slytherin,” she exclaims. 

But, before Jungkook could correct her, she adds, “Now this is one good thing you did, son, made a Slytherin friend from the same social standing” 

Taehyung lets out a chuckle, equal parts disbelief, and resignation, but Mistress Hee-Yeon pays him no mind. “A half-blood from Rangers is still far better than that Muggle-born friend of yours you like to fool around with. What was his name again? Ah, yes, Jimin.”  

This is something Jungkook could no longer act unperturbed about.

Her saying stuff about his father was one thing. Everybody knows how he saved eleven lives during a Muggle bank robbery. He died a hero, and nothing could change that. But calling Taehyung’s friendship with Jimin ‘fooling around’ is an insult to their bond. 

Jungkook knows, and he has seen, how much Taehyung cares for Jimin. He can't let her disrespect them this way.

“If you call their friendship fooling around, I am afraid you have no understanding of a bond above some social standings.” 

"Excuse me?" her tone cutting through the room like a frosty wind, the words dismissal, carrying a crude attempt to assert her authority. But he stands firm, unwilling to let her belittle their friendship like this.

Taehyung must have sensed the rising tension as he intercedes, “Pardon, Mother, but I think there is no gain in continuing this conversation. You called Jungkook to validate the company I keep, which you did. So let’s not waste our precious time on other mindless chatter, please .”

With a determined stride, Taehyung then swiftly approaches Jungkook, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He steers him towards the door, a silent signal for a perceptive retreat.

“Worry not, Mother. I am mindful of the reputation of Madhouse. You needn’t trouble yourself with this matter,” Taehyung says, his tone a careful mix of diplomacy and quiet defiance.

“I am fully aware of our prestigious lineage, as well as the delicate intricacies of social connections and alliances,” he adds, his words polished and deliberate.

As he speaks, Taehyung discreetly slips a small parchment into Jungkook’s hand, the movement so smooth it goes unnoticed by everyone but its intended recipient.

As Taehyung turns to bid him farewell, there's a knowing look shared between them—Taehyung’s face devoid of any displeasure with the way Jungkook challenged his mother. It relieves him that, unintentionally, he didn’t jeopardize their newly formed friendship.

The door then closes before him, leaving Mistress Hee-Yeon and Taehyung with ample time for some quality and much-needed mother-son bonding.

Don’t take anything she says to heart, I am sorry for whatever happened. Please meet me near the West Wing whenever you can. 

—read the parchment.

Hence, Jungkook finds himself sauntering to the West Wing, an hour after the feast ends. 

Though the note made it evident that Taehyung anticipated the tension, it still irked him that he had unwittingly breached a certain boundary. It was not his place to challenge Taehyung’s mother; it wasn't his friendship that was being undermined.

But sometimes it’s difficult for him to hold back. He doesn’t consider himself a paladin, some kind of torchbearer for equity among blood statuses. 

Truth be told, the same thoughts crossed his mind when he learned Taehyung was a Madhouse Sly. Until today, the notion of Jimin being anything other than a pureblood hadn't occurred to him.

However, uncovering the muggle aspect significantly deepened the respect he held for Taehyung. The boy surely went against the very essence the Madhouse is built upon, the principles of blood purity and elitism. 

It’s easy to find one transcending border for love that fades away but being the one to risk it all for a friendship that stands the test of time is elusive.

The West Wing is just a stone's throw away, its dimly lit corridor casting a soft, peaceful shadow across Jungkook’s face. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, his heart is stirring up a storm of its own.

The thought of having Taehyung comfort him like a friend—or caress him like a lover—lingers in his mind, unsettling and tempting all at once.

“Jungkook~”

Just as he’s about to round the corner, a familiar voice calls out to him, freezing him in place. He scans his surroundings, his eyes landing on a huddled figure crouching near the staircase.

Approaching cautiously, wand in hand, ready to defend himself in case it’s a lonely ghost playing a bloody prank, Jungkook squints at the figure. The light reflects on the silhouette, and as he draws nearer, he realizes who it is.

"Taehyung ...how long have you been waiting here?"

Before he could get an answer, Taehyung springs up from his position and envelops Jungkook in a tight, unexpected hug. Caught off guard, Jungkook stiffens, which Taehyung seems to notice as he quickly pulls back. However, he doesn't draw his hands completely away.

Firmly holding Jungkook's knuckles between his palms Taehyung looks at him distressed, eyes carrying remorse that he doesn't fully comprehend. 

"I am so sorry for everything my Mother said back there, it was really hurtful and so tactless of her” Taehyung mutters while choking on words and Jungkook is dumbfounded. 

The eyes, usually bright and full of life, now glisten with unshed tears. The vulnerability in Taehyung's gaze is so heart-wrenching that Jungkook's fingers instinctively curl tighter, enveloping his cold hand in his own. Silent, he tightens his grip, hoping the warmth of his touch can make up for the words that refuse to leave his lips.

“I promise you, your father is an idol to everyone who knows him. The courage it takes to stand firm and challenge the entire Pureblood Family League for someone you love—it’s something to be admired. I truly admire him.”

He pauses, swallowing hard before continuing. “He was a righteous man to leave the magical world behind, simply because it couldn’t make space for the one his heart was carved for. I want to be that brave too, but I’m not.”

A soft sigh escapes him, and his voice falters. “I’m sorry I couldn’t defend you back there. I’m so sorry…”

At that moment, Jungkook feels an intense urge to taste the liquid sorrow and swallow the apology right from Taehyung’s mouth but he can’t. Can’t taint the innocence of the moment.

So, he does the next best thing.

He rests his forehead against Taehyung’s, creating a blanket of solace around them. The boy shudders as the fever of his touch spreads through him, before tilting his head to nudge their noses together. 

As Taehyung inhales the warmth of his breath, Jungkook’s hand moves from his wrist to his arm, the touch gentle but deliberate.

“You don’t have to apologize; you tried your best. It’s not your fault Mistress Hee-Yeon is—well, an ass. Shit, sorry,” Jungkook says, attempting to comfort Taehyung, only to slip up and curse his mother. 

The blunder earns him a throaty chuckle from Taehyung, and for a brief moment, he considers it a small victory.

"Nah, I agree. She is an ass," Taehyung responds with lighthearted humor, vitality returning behind the thin film of liquid in his eyes. 

Relief washes over Jungkook as he feels the tension lifting from Taehyung's shoulders. The air seems lighter, as the room holds a more comfortable ambiance.

Encouraged by the tender atmosphere, Jungkook's hand instinctively moves to Taehyung’s cheek. His touch gentle as it wipes away the stray tears.

Looking into Taehyung’s eyes, Jungkook voices his concerns. "So, that means you're not mad at me for, you know, challenging her back there? I didn’t mean any disrespect, I swear. Her look toward your and Jimin’s bond just… irked me."  

Perhaps Taehyung senses the hesitation in Jungkook’s words, the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. A reassuring smile slowly curves onto Taehyung’s lips, while his thumb begins tracing gentle circles where his hand rests on Jungkook’s waist. 

"I’m not mad. I promise. I was actually proud that you were brave enough to voice your thoughts. I know my mother can be a handful sometimes."

A lone giggle reverberates through the hushed corridors, as the beating of their hearts stays muffled by the flesh of their chest. 

However, if Taehyung were to slip his skin under Jungkook’s blazer, he could marvel at the revelation that the thumb’s movement is governing the pace of the boy’s pulse. 

But alas, this realization eludes him.

Chapter Text

A week. 

It’s been a week since the purple smoke recited the verse.

Long seven days gone and he still couldn’t make sense of a single line in it.

If he were ever asked, "What was the moment he truly doubted his Ravenclaw ancestry?" it would be this—because what in Merlin’s beard is this gibberish?

night when this chase began…
bring two souls together…
met me, child, think in retrospect…
look through the letters…
though it will pass through…

It all seems a bloody joke, an elaborate plan to make fun of him. He wouldn’t put it past the bitch hat to pull something like this. The eccentric piece of fabric could undoubtedly scheme to sabotage his attempts. The Hat, notorious for its reluctance to acknowledge any sorting errors, would love to revel in its own infallibility, wouldn’t it?

“I could ask again why you always carry these slips of paper, but your selective ignorance wounds my big brother's pride too much to risk it. So, Namjoon, could you please do the honors?” Jungyu chimes in, all the while busily pasting clippings of every headline that remotely mentions Lovegood into his scrapbook, aptly titled The Phases Fade But Luna Shines. Creative, Jungkook will give him that.

Namjoon looks up, eyes shifting from the pages of the book he was engrossed in, to Jungyu, acknowledging the request with a subtle nod.

“Why not look for it yourself?” he comments casually as he reaches to take hold of the slips from Jungkook’s hand. However, before his fingers can even brush the parchment, Jungkook screeches and snatches the pieces away.

The sudden shriek earns him the nastiest side eyes ever; after all, he disturbed the quiet of the library. Apologetically nodding his head to nobody in particular, Jungkook turns to face stunned Namjoon and appalled Jungyu.

“You could have just said you don’t want to tell, you know; the cat-like hissing wasn’t really required,” Jungyu says, his voice wavering as if afraid Jungkook might scratch his face or something.

“Yeah, sorry Kook, I should have asked you first.” Namjoon adds contritely.

Now, Jungkook feels bad for his exaggerated response, “I over-reacted. It’s not a big deal guys, I promise. It’s just that I can’t tell you what’s written in it or else it won’t work.” he reveals, tucking the slips in the safety of his robe’s pocket.

Jungyu nods in understanding while Namjoon looks at him thoughtfully.

A beat of silence passes before Namjoon asks, “Is this somehow related to you wanting to change your house?”

Unable to disclose much, he merely nods in affirmation and the three of them return to their previous activities.

Just as the library's hushed ambiance settles around them again, an unexpected flutter of wings disrupts the calm. An owl swoops in—catching everyone's attention, and drops a sealed letter neatly on the table. 

Jungkook catches a glimpse of his and Jungyu’s names intricately written on the letter. He almost reaches for it but Jungyu beats—delicately break the seal, he unfolds the parchment.

"Well, what's it say?" Namjoon asks, his curiosity matching Jungkook's.

“Granny finally gave in to our whining—she’s celebrating her birthday! This is the invitation for the gathering tomorrow. She even asked us to bring our friends.”

Jungyu and Namjoon erupt with excitement, launching into conversation about presents and outfits meanwhile Jungkook begins to drift away, his thoughts spiraling into unease—how he will face Granny tomorrow with a silver and emerald scarf across the neck. 

It all could have been avoided if he was told a no-nonsense way to Ravenclaw instead of that twisted rhyme.

Bloody Sorting Hat and its purple smoke spirit.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖

The apprehension is filling his mouth with a sour taste.

The door is the only barrier between him and the dreaded disappointment he will bestow upon his lovely granny. How unruly of him to disclose the magnitude of his failure on such a celebratory moment. 

The incompetence—the inability to unravel the prose of success and regain the rightful house—is heavier than the initial shock of being sorted into the wrong house.

The blame for the sorting mishap lay squarely on the Bitch Hat—a force beyond his control—yet, the revelation of his shortcomings is a bitter pill to swallow. 

On their way to the Ranger Residence, he mulled over the idea of concealing the hiccup for the time being—waiting until she asked before revealing it. It was a fleeting thought, born out of fear and uncertainty, because deep down, he knew the truth would surface eventually. Still, the temptation to stall felt sweeter than confessing.  

Before Jungkook could solidify his decision—the bronze door slides open and he finds himself swept into a tender embrace.

“Jungkookie, right on time!” Bailey greets, her voice carrying genuine joy. The familiar scent of her perfume, a comforting blend of rain and soil, momentarily distracted him from his internal struggle.

“Hey, Bailey,” he replies, forcing a timid smile as he returns her warm greeting.

Hailey, too, rushes forward, embracing Jungyu with a sibling's fervor, while Uncle Seongmin extends a warm handshake to Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin, his smile amiable and inviting.

The warm greetings settle, Mother emerges from the kitchen—a playful glint in her eyes as she directs her attention toward Uncle Seongmin.

"Seongmin Hyung, lead them to the dining table. Or are all of you planning to spend the night chatting at the threshold?" she light-heartedly comments, eliciting a burst of laughter from the group—dissipating any awkwardness that lingered.

Uncle Seongmin slightly bows, acknowledging the jest, "Of course, no impromptu feasts in the hallway today. The dining table it is!"

With that, they start making their way to the dining table. 

Jungkook makes a conscious effort to blend into the joyous atmosphere—jitters subtle in his movements, unnoticed until someone has their attention fixed on him.

As they settle around the table, a surprising warmth envelops his cold fingers, tucked discreetly under the table. Startled, he glances to the side, realizing it's Taehyung who sits beside him. 

The boy doesn’t meets his when Jungkook looks at him. Engrossed in his conversation with Uncle Seongnim, he maintains an unwavering gaze ahead. His finger, however, curls tighter around Jungkook’s palm, squeezing the hand in a silent reassurance concealed from everyone gabbing at the table. 

After the vulnerable moment in the West Wing, Taehyung has been more conscious of him, in a way that unleashes a swarm of bees in his stomach. The raw emotions in the air that night gave him a clearer feel of who Taehyung truly is, beyond the title of Ice Prince that precedes him.

Yesterday, when Jungkook knocked on his and Jimin’s room to extend the invitation, Taehyung shared a quiet insecurity: that he didn’t feel deserving enough to be part of the lively moment with a family his mother had spoken so ill of. Taehyung didn’t want to bring pain to Granny by being someone from the bloodline that had torn her son’s life apart—a Madhouse Sly.

Jungkook, struck by his thoughtfulness, tried to comfort him by mentioning how Granny’s heart was vaster than the sprawling grounds of Hogwarts, holding no grudges against the innocent children who couldn’t have fully understood the profound power of love.

Yet, despite Jungkook’s reassurances, it seemed Taehyung couldn’t entirely shake his doubts. The shadows lingering beneath those sunset eyes, paired with the soft, content curve of his lips the next day, hinted at a sleepless night spent searching for the perfect present for Granny.

His reason was as pure as the effort itself: if Granny harbored any reservations about him, perhaps she might find solace in the thoughtful gesture he had so carefully chosen.

And there’s no denying that Jungkook would bare his soul to Taehyung, offer his heart on a gilded platter for the boy to tear apart—vein by vein—just to prove that every crimson thread coursing through him mirrors the amber in Taehyung’s eyes and the amaranth hue of his lips.

But if, for Taehyung, friendship meant reaching out to clasp Jungkook’s hand—even while bearing the weight of his own insecurities about not fully belonging to the familial fold—then Jungkook would trade his soul for even a fleeting dream of being Taehyung’s lover.

It’s in the small things – a supportive hand on the shoulder, a shared glance that speaks volumes, and the reassurance in moments of uncertainty that makes Jungkook fall face-first into the ocean of feeling with no bottom.

However, his trance momentarily gets disrupted when the curious Jungyu turns to Mother to ask, "Where's Granny, Mumma?"

Mother smiles warmly, "Granny will join us shortly, sweetheart. She wanted to make sure everything was just perfect for our special guests. You know how she is, always ensuring everything is in order."

Jungyu nods, seemingly satisfied with the explanation, and turns his attention back to the ongoing conversation.

But Jungkook can't help but feel a knot tightening in his stomach. How is he going—

“Where is my lovely Slytherin?” a familiar voice calls, followed by the sound of slow footsteps descending the staircase. 

The room falls silent, a quiet awe settling over the table as every gaze shifts toward the source of the sound. There she stands—Granny, adorned in her cherished cerulean hanbok, radiating an aura of timeless grace.

“I must admit, the monotony of witnessing the same blue and bronze in every graduation photo has left me genuinely bored. Green and silver would be such a refreshing change, wouldn’t it?” she asks, her voice calm and soft as she takes her seat at the head of the table.

Reeling from the abruptness of Granny’s declaration, everyone nods along in a daze, exchanging wide-eyed glances, while Jungkook freezes like a deer in headlights.

Her words echo relentlessly in his mind. Does she truly mean what he thinks, or is his brain conjuring illusions of its own?

However, before he can spiral into apprehension or anticipation, Granny speaks again, “The serpent brooch among the eagle ones might just be the change we need. What do you think, Koo?” 

Jungkook blinks, his thoughts finally catching up as the realization slowly dawns on him— Granny knows .

She knows he is a Slytherin, the first Sly in the long history of Ravens, and there is only one way for her to know.

Eyes narrowed into thin slits, he accusingly turns his head towards the sole offender of the knowledge, the only one who couldn’t keep the word under his tongue, “Bloody babbling buffoon, you told her, didn’t you? Swear to Lovegood, I will turn you into a Cornish Pixie for real this time, you'll be blue and—”

“BUT I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” hands raised in the air, Jugyu defensively exclaims, “How could I possibly tell her when I arrived here with you, you dumbwit.”

That leaves Jungkook gaping. If it wasn’t Jungyu, then who?

But before he could make use of his cunningly sharp brain to accuse another innocent soul, Hailey speaks up.

"Wait, does that mean Kookie is a Slytherin?" she asks, her tone laced with skepticism as if entertaining the idea that something like this could actually occur. Jungkook steals a quick glance at Granny, waiting anxiously for her reaction.

Granny, however, doesn't react with shock or disappointment. Instead, she chuckles, her eyes crinkling at the corners, “Yes, darling. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise that our little Koo here owns a green scarf instead of blue, my runes stones are never wrong after all.”

"But the runes never said anything about Kookie; you only told us that Jungyu would be the best Ravenclaw in our legacy," Uncle Seongnim mentions, and everyone around the table nods their heads in agreement.

Except Mother.

Sitting opposite Granny, Mother never once piped into the conversation. Adorning a soft smile since the moment Granny talked about her boredom with blue hues, she had just been observing. Something in Jungkook's mind tugs at the notion that Mother knows what all this ruckus is about.

As if sensing his gaze, she turns to him with a tender smile before speaking, her tone soothing and perceptive. “It won’t be you, Kookie, who becomes the most celebrated Ravenclaw—because you were never one to begin with. You have always been a Slytherin, my love.”

“Does that mean I’m not taking something that Kook deserves?” Jungyu exclaims the moment their mother finishes, his voice brimming with excitement.

The sheer joy lighting up Jungyu’s face tugs at something deep within Jungkook. Since that conversation, he’s been noticing the little things that make his brother so distinct—his quirks, his perspective, and the quiet charm that sets him apart.

Just a little bit more self-preservation and intuition, and Jungyu will surely be the best Ravenclaw has to offer.

“Don’t say it like that, dear. You both equally deserve everything. Don’t sell yourself short,” Mother softly speak.

“I won’t, Mother. I promise, not anymore,” Jungyu replies, his gaze silently meeting Jungkook’s across the table as they share a gentle smile.

A hush settles over the room as everyone digests the unexpected revelation—the thoughtful silence is finally broken when Bailey leans forward, her eyes alight with genuine intrigue. "But I still don’t get it. How is Kookie a Slytherin? It just doesn’t make sense."

All eyes turn to Mother, each person at the table sharing a similar question on their faces. Jungkook, too expectantly looks at her.

Yet, before Mother can respond, Granny interjects, "Well, that's easy. Tell me, Koo, when you were sorted into Slytherin, did you try to understand why that decision was made, or did you butt head first into getting what you wanted, by hook or by crook?"

The triplet of his traitor friends, along with Jungyu, erupts into a howl of laughter at that. 

He gets what Granny is trying to say, and Love Luna (or should he swear Salazar now?) he did bend every corner to be Ravenclaw. From bringing a Silver Phoenix into play to embarking on that god-forbidden venture to Tahira Cavern, he went all the way out just to have a word with that purple smoke. 

Never once did he step back to think about the root of why was he sorted Slytherin instead. Curiosity and learning, the very essence of being Raven missing.

What he showcased was a blaring green Slytherin trait or as the Bitch Hat sings…

Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.

“You have no idea, Granny!” Jungyu says, seemingly managing to catch a breath from laughing at his expanse, “Half of the time I wasn’t even there when he cursed the poor hat, yet I can tell you, Kook has been going up and down to hunt down the Sorting Hat and make it swallow its tongue.”

There were just quadruple people laughing at his misery before, now the whole table shares the amusement. With cheeks flushing red from embarrassment, he attempts to preserve the barely hanging pieces of his pride, but ends up yelling, “I wasn’t that desperate.”

So much for damage control.

“Of course, Kookie. We get. You just damned the Sorting Hat to Death Eater’s Dungeon, nothing measure.” Bailey pipes up with a teasing twist of her lips while Hailey nods in faux solace. 

Seeing the situation spiraling out of control, he was, quite wisely, prepared to throw hands when Mother intervened to rein in the playful chaos. “I think that’s enough teasing, kids,” she says, her tone gentle but firm. Her eyes convey the need for sincerity as she turns her attention to Jungkook.

“You don’t have to fret anymore, sweetheart. We’re proud of you, no matter which colored scarf you wear. And as Granny said, green will surely add a fresh shade to the timeless blue, don’t you think?” she adds softly.

This was what he was afraid of not hearing.

Afraid that he’d be a disappointment, a mark on the pristine Ravenclaw legacy of their blood. But how could he forget that these are his people? The ones who will love him unconditionally. The people that he’ll find by his side at the top of the world and on rock bottom alike.

“You know I love you all too, right?” he manages to mumble before his throat can choke up on the tenderness he feels in his heart. 

“Of course, sweetheart we know.” Granny fondly reckons.

With a subtle nod, she gracefully redirects the conversation, steering it toward a lighter note, “Now that we've sorted out our little house crisis, how about you introduce us to your friends? It's high time we put names to these lovely faces,” 

Catching his breath from the whirlwind of sentimentality and heartwarming moments, Jungkook clears his throat and seizes the chance to make introductions. “Absolutely. So, this is Namjoon,” he begins, gesturing toward the boy, “third-year Ravenclaw and Jungyu’s roommate. He was the first friend I made the moment I stepped foot on the Express.” 

Namjoon offers a shy wave, wiggling his fingers as Jungkook continues, “He saved me from wandering into some senior’s cabin and getting my ass handed to me. Ever since, I’ve been riding under his cape, and the poor guy’s been stuck putting up with me.”

“He's a handful, true, but a good friend nonetheless,” Namjoon remarks, causing a round of mushy awes to echo in the hall. Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, the smile enough to convey the gratitude of having Namjoon as his companion.

He gestures towards Jimin, “The adorable blondie, right here, is Jimin, a third-year Slytherin. We crossed paths when he saved Bammie from getting pierced by the glass of the case he was trying to break free from. It’s a minor detail that the saving spell got miscast, and I ended up knocked unconscious, but whatever.”

“Raven!” Jimin mutters, a furious blush coloring his face. 

“He called me Raven that time too, because of my hair, and I was so disoriented and upset about being sorted into Slytherin that I burst into tears, saying I’m no Raven, but a Sly now.” He chuckles at the memory, “But instead of getting annoyed and tossing me out, Jiminie patiently listened to my ranting and even offered that his roommate might help me with the misery.”

"He did bowl his eyes out at the name," Jimin adds.

Laughter fills the room as Jungkook nods sheepishly, going with the humor. "It wasn’t a pretty sight, I assure you."

Continuing with the introductions, he announces, "And last but certainly not least, we have Taehyung,", the corners of his lips twitching into a subtle smile as he gestures toward the boy, “The roommate Jimin talked about, but, I didn’t meet him through Jimin, no.”

His eyes meet Taehyung’s for a fleeting moment, however, he snaps his gaze towards the fork on the empty plate in front of him. 

Reminiscing about the first time he saw the boy in the Great Hall, Jungkook decides to recount an occasion where he wasn't the only one aware of the other. "The first time I had a proper conversation with Tae was when he asked if I needed help to my room after saving me from getting eaten by Cerberus," 

Warmth blooms high on his cheekbones remembering all the times he has been held. “It surely wasn’t the only time he came as a knight in shiny armor for my rescue. After that, I tripped at least twice more, and each time, he saved me from a potential disaster, preventing my head from splitting open.”

“Merlin, Cerberus? That’s too dangerous.”  Hailey exclaims, scandalized, “How did you get involved with something so dangerous?” 

Jungkook can’t help the titter that leaves his throat at her words—Cerberus is undoubtedly the least treacherous encounter he's had, and judging by Taehyung’s pursed lips, he seems to agree.

“It’s nothing major, Hailey. I just forgot the staircase to my dorm and was about to take the one that leads to the creature’s dungeon, that’s it.” 

“Only you, Kook. Only you could do something like that.”

He shrugs his shoulder in nonchalance, neither accepting nor denying the allegation.

The casualness, however, doesn’t last long as Hailey’s next question catches him off guard, “And, how did Taehyung help you with your misery , exactly?”

It leaves him momentarily speechless. He casts a subtle glance at Taehyung, silently seeking help. He wonders how to satisfy Hailey’s curiosity without revealing the small but crucial detail about Taehyung.

To explain that the boy was a Madhouse Sly, someone with a few tricks up his sleeve, capable of conjuring something far from ordinary? He couldn’t expose Taehyung like this—not when the thought of Granny or the rest of the family disapproving of his connection to Madhouse already weighed heavily on his mind.

Considering the crisis, he was about to craft a white lie, something not far from the truth but not the verity either when Taehyung’s finger slipped between his. 

The sudden act takes him by surprise. Both, the inability to understand the intention behind the contact and the firmness of the grip on his flesh, render his gaze unwavering from their intertwined hands. So immersed in the indecisiveness about curling his fingers around the knuckles or not, that Jungkook almost misses when Taehyung speaks.

“Jungkook wanted a way to grab Professor Jung’s attention for house change, and given that I—well, I'm a Madhouse Slytherin, and since Professor frequents Madhouse, I knew what would get the deal done.”

Taehyung’s grasp from between his digits loosens when those words come into existence. It’s as if he needed an anchor to even mention the detail amidst these walls. So, when he exhales the burden off his chest, the tension under his fingertip eases as well.

However, Jungkook doesn’t let the warmth escape from between their palms. 

With a halted breath, while Taehyung waits for the reaction of people around the table, Jungkook gives up the uncertainty and lets his skin touch those knuckles. His fingertip caresses the bumps of the joint as he lifts his eyes to look at Granny.

And, just as he assured Taehyung, Granny broke into an encouraging smile, “I assume you did work your charm. Quick-wit and determination are ground traits of a Sly, Madhouse or not .”

The apprehension fades into nothingness upon hearing this. Jungkook never doubted that Granny’s heart had the capacity to absorb any remnants of resentment from the past actions of some entitled individuals. He’s certain that, after this, Taehyung would understand as well.

"Yeah, it did," Taehyung responds, his voice soft yet sincere, brimming with gratitude. His fingers tightened around Jungkook’s hand, a quiet gesture for the weight that had been lifted from both of them. "It worked."

Beneath the smooth, polished surface of the table, their fingers remain intertwined. Obscured from any prying eyes, the subtle exchange of comfort would have been completely concealed if Jungkook’s rosy flush wasn’t rendering it palpable for anyone observing.

Before someone can catch their platonic closeness, Granny clinks the goblet near her with a spoon, redirecting everyone's focus toward her, “I reckon everyone’s Raveness is quenched now, so shall we satiate the hunger of your stomach as well?” She announces, clapping her hand twice.

The sound of her claps resonates through the hallway—on cue, a lavish spread of gourmet dishes materializes on the previously empty plates in front of them. The transformation leaves everyone momentarily awestruck. 

Despite hosting several gatherings in the past, Granny had never displayed a wizardry of this sort. The entire table exchanges surprised glances, their eyes widening in amazement as the barren goblets get magically filled with Head Hog’s Brew and Pear Dazzle .

Granny, observing their wide-eyed expressions, burst into a hearty laughter. The infectious sound grabs the attention of the entire crowd as they exchange baffled glances, seemingly unable to comprehend the reason behind her amusement.

When her lungs gently remind her of the life she has lived, the laughter subsides, “Oh, my goodness, your reactions were priceless.” Granny huffs, eventually managing to catch her breath.

Wiping the wetness of joy that escaped her lashline, she observes the furrowed eyebrows etched on the faces of her children. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she finally reveals, “Let’s say some of my tricks are for are reserved for my entertainment alone. Gotta make my hundredth birthday special, shouldn’t I?”

She gracefully raises her goblet, its crystal surface catching the glow of the celebration. The crowd, still in the grip of her infectious mirth, follow suit. 

"Here's to a century filled with charm, passion, and serendipity" Granny declares, and the glasses join—a heartfelt tribute to the longevity of her life.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖

"Are you going to go to sleep right after?" Taehyung asks him, as they walk down the corridors of Hogwarts. It's only them and a very sleepy Jimin on Taehyung’s back. Jungyu and Namjoon were almost drowsy from the heart's content food they gobbled and retreated to the Ravenclaw hallways the moment they stepped into the school grounds.

Jungkook chuckles, the remnants of the celebration still coursing through his veins. "I doubt it. I'm too wired to sleep just yet."

“Hmm…me too,” Taehyung hums. Hiking Jimin up for a better grip, they turn around the corner toward the third-year’s room. “How about we hang on for a bit? It’s barely past 10. I can tuck Jimin to bed, and then we can go for a stroll or something. What do you say?”

Jungkook grins, "Sounds perfect.”

Upon reaching Taehyung and Jimin’s room, Jungkook opens the door for both of the third-years to enter. The absence of a lock is simply because no one dares to break into Sly Prince’s room, quoting Taehyung, ‘ few of the perks of being a Madhouse Sly .’ 

He lingers by the threshold, allowing Taehyung the space to lay Jimin on the bed gently—he covers him with a before removing his socks and accessories. A smile unconsciously settles on Jungkook’s lips—Mistress Hee-Yeon is one blind woman to not notice such a beautiful friendship.

Once they step out of the room, Taehyung mumbles, “Let me take you to a special place. It’s peaceful, and nobody’s ever stumbled upon it—at least, I think so.”

Motioning for Taehyung to lead the way, Jungkook asks curiously, “Is it where you hang out after hours?”

“Yup, that’s the one.”

Their walk comes to an abrupt stop when a solid brick wall stands before them. They’ve reached what appears to be a dead end. Jungkook frowns slightly, but Taehyung doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. Instead, he steps forward, extending a hand toward the wall.

Jungkook watches, confusion etched across his face, as Taehyung’s hand slips effortlessly through the seemingly solid bricks.

“What... how is that even possible?” Jungkook stammers, his wide eyes fixed on Taehyung’s hand, now playfully waving at him from the other side of the wall.

He blinks several times, convinced his exhaustion must be playing tricks on him. Maybe he should’ve taken that nap when he had the chance.

Despite the initial skepticism, he tentatively extends his own hand towards the wall. To his bewilderment, his fingers meet no resistance—they pass through the surface as if it were nothing more than a reflection. His eyes widen even further when the surface ripples with the movement, it feels as if he has submerged his hand underwater. But when he retreats, the skin is dry, with no remnants of the fluid sensation from before.

Taehyung chuckles at Jungkook's astonished expression. "The wall is a portal, it opens to an abandoned shed by the borders of the Forbidden Forest."

"But isn’t it unsafe, you could be attacked by anything, anytime?" Jungkook stammers, struggling to comprehend how Taehyung could casually lounge near the Forests.

Taehyung grins, his eyes twinkling with excitement, "Relax, I don’t know why but the shed has protecting charms around it. Trust me, nothing is going to sneak up on us. Now, abandon your worries and come" With a firm grip on Jungkook's wrist, he pulls the boy along, effortlessly passing through the wall. “We saw the Tahira Cavern and survived, nothing gonna top that.”

The air inside the shed is cool and filled with the scent of earth and moss. Dim light filters through cracks in the wooden walls, revealing a cozy interior decked with weathered wooden shelves and ancient spell books. But one thing sticks out from the surroundings more than the rest, “Why are there so many wool yarns lying around?” Jungkook poses with intrigue as the worn-out rug on the floor is flooded with several beige and brown wall balls.

In response to his question, Taehyung releases his grip on Jungkook's wrist and walks up to the nearest ball of yarn. Picking up the wrapped woolen thread, he turns to Jungkook, and with a pleased smile, enunciates, “The reason of my nightly escapades.”

When the puzzlement still doesn't fade from Jungkook's face, he explains, "I love knitting, but I can't do it in my room. I have this habit of humming, and Jimin can't stand listening to me hum for hours without a break. So, I come here to indulge without bothering him.”

“Is it really that bad?” Jungkook giggles, throwing the roommate out seems very aggressive for the Jimin he knows.

“Oh, very. No matter how many sweaters I knitted him, he never let me step inside the room with my needles.” Taehyung shakes his head in amusement, “He was so pissed once—I was stress-crocheting a scarf while stress-humming along with it, and he had to revise for O.W.L.S. Jimin takes his quiet study time very seriously.”

“Merlin! I would’ve thrown you out too, no matter how beautiful the sweater was. I wouldn’t tolerate any humming while studying either.”

Jungkook snorts, breaking further at the mental image of a thoroughly irritated Jimin—nose scrunched, lips pouted like an angry chick.

But Taehyung doesn’t laugh along. Instead, he tilts his head, his expression shifting as his gaze sharpens. “Is that so?” he muses, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Jungkook’s laughter falters, the subtle shift of mood catches him off guard, “What?” he nervously mutters.

Noticing Jungkook’s reaction, Taehyung steps closer, his movements slow and purposeful, closing the space between them.

Standing less than an arm’s length away, Taehyung croons, “You sure you’d throw me out, darling, no matter how much you liked the sweater, hmm?”

It isn’t the first time Taehyung has called him darling , however, it’s certainly the first time his throat rumbled with tempting cursive along with it.

“I–I guess.” he stutters, quivering under the feline gaze that has him in a chokehold.

Seeming pleased, with the falter of his speech, Taehyung closes the remaining distance between them. He strides forward and places his palm over Jungkook’s wildly beating heart, “You guess?” 

Jungkook’s brain buzzes with muddled thoughts, too incoherent to mean anything, “ Ye—don—maybe. ”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Taehyung coos, his hand no longer still. “So, you lied when you said you loved that green sweater?”

Jungkook feels his breath catch as Taehyung’s wrist shifts, the rapid rise and fall of his chest betraying his flustered state, a sensation that makes him acutely aware of the closeness between them.

“Huh…”

“The cashmere sweater, darling, the one I gave you to keep.”

It takes a moment for the meaning to click, but when it does, Jungkook’s eyes widen, and a flush of realization warms his cheeks.

“You knitted that sweater?” he murmurs, careful not to disturb the fragile peace around them.

Taehyung’s lips curl into a hidden smile, caught under his teeth as he nods.

The playful energy that had lingered in his voice fades, instead, shyness drips from the words when he asks, “Do you wanna learn? I can teach you some basic patterns?”

Jungkook’s gaze sharpens as it lands on the light dents near Taehyung’s mouth, the subtle imprints left by teeth. It’s as if Taehyung feels the weight of his stare, because he releases his lips from their subtle torture, leaving behind a glistening sheen of saliva.

The soft rosiness of Taehyung’s lips tests Jungkook’s patience, and the temptation is unbearable.

With a great effort, Jungkook manages to whisper, “Su-sure.”

At those words, Taehyung’s lips curve into a broad grin, as though the simple idea of sharing something he loves with Jungkook is a rush of serotonin—filling him with uncontainable joy.

The happiness suits him. Jungkook can’t help but think that this is one of the few times he’s seen Taehyung’s eyes light up so brightly. The only other moment that comes to mind is when Taehyung talks about Tannie, that same sparkle in his gaze.

Jungkook’s heart flutters, warmth spreading through his chest as he waits for Taehyung to grab a ball of yarn to start teaching him. But instead of reaching for something new, Taehyung hands him the ball of yarn he was already holding.

Caught off guard, Jungkook looks up, surprise written across his face. Taehyung, however, remains blissfully unaware of the astonishment in his eyes. He simply moves behind him, his hands gently guiding Jungkook’s own, leading him to hold the yarn and needles.

With his chest pressed to Jungkook’s spine, Taehyung speaks near his ear, “Here, hold them like this,” his warm breath grazing the earlobe.

Taehyung’s hands guide his fingers into position, the soft exhale against his mastoid bone overwhelming Jungkook’s senses. The scent of lavender on Taehyung’s skin drowns out everything else.

Needing to break the silence before Taehyung notices, Jungkook clears his throat and asks, “By the way, you never told me what you gifted Granny; she seemed genuinely pleased with it.”

Elated with the topic broached, Taehyung reveals, “I gave her a shawl, with flowers on the edge. Asked her to ignore the rough fringes—was on a tight schedule. She said she loved it anyway.”

Jungkook hums absently at first, lost in the rise and fall of Taehyung’s chest, the sensation warm and grounding. But as the words register, his head snaps back in surprise, an incredulous expression flickering across his face. “You knitted a bloody shawl in one night? Just like that?”

Wide-eyed, Taehyung stares at him, momentarily stunned by the sudden exclamation.

And as they say, work done in a rush is the devil’s work—he only realizes the unexpected closeness between their faces when it’s too late, and their eyes lock.

Taehyung’s pupils dilate at the sudden proximity, the haste of the moment reigniting the subtle tension between them. The charged air returns, more palpable than before as their eyes stay engaged, his own heartbeat rising when Taehyung’s spike against his spine. 

Sensing the shift, Jungkook instinctively tries to pull away, but Taehyung’s grip on his hands keeps him in place.

“It's not much,” the boy whispers, glancing between his reflection in Jungkook’s dazed eyes, “I can do it with my eyes closed. Wanna see?"

Stunned by the lingering closeness, Jungkook shakes his head ever so slightly, words tangled in his mind. His gaze lingers on Taehyung’s features—the mole just below his lash line, the soft asymmetry of his mismatched eyelids—until, without realizing it, his eyes begin to flutter closed, the weight of the moment pulling his lids shut.

Blood rushes everywhere, from ringing in his ears to blooming on the cheeks, his heart pumps relentlessly. Taehyung's face inches closer, so close that he could feel the warmth of the skin against his cheek. 

At the next exhale, Jungkook’s breath is stolen from his lips as Taehyung closes the distance between them, sealing their mouths together. The rosy, plush mouth caresses against Jungkook’s craving ones. They move languid and lovely, so soft and innocent.

“Breathe, darling,” Taehyung mumbles, his voice a low rasp, as his lower lip gets trapped between Jungkook’s lush seam.

Jungkook shivers, the warmth of Taehyung’s touch sending a wave of heat through him. He barely registers the subtle shift of Taehyung’s lips, only aware of the gentle pressure, the sweetness that makes him forget everything but the taste of him.

Yet, after a few beats of silence, his lungs yearn for air. Their mouths separate as he lets his chest rise, relaxing his diaphragm to allow air to rush in and satisfy his mortal needs. Taehyung gradually unfurls his eyes, revealing a vulnerability so evident that, despite inhaling for his life, Jungkook still feels breathless.

Gasping as if his very breath is taken away from him, his chest tightens in desperate need. In that moment of deprivation, his mouth involuntarily opens, and—

Swinging wide open like a rebellious gate, it blurts out, “I once told Namjoon that I don’t want my first kiss to be platonic.”

The loose context of his confession crashes down on him a minute too late. He mentally facepalms, wondering if his tongue is secretly sabotaging any chance at a love life.

Taehyung, who had been watching him with rapt attention, freezes. Time seems to halt, the air thick with awkward tension.

Jungkook almost hears Taehyung’s mind working overtime, processing the unexpected admission. But before the other could draw any conclusions about him being a hopeless, pining idiot, Jungkook acts.

With a swift motion, he tightens his grip on Taehyung’s hands, grounding them both in the moment and declares, “I’d start weeping if this was even remotely platonic.”

The tension snaps, and Taehyung doesn’t disappoint either. Shaking his head, clearly amused, he pulls Jungkook in.

The thread that had once caressed their fingers stays still. As Taehyung shifts his hand to rest on Jungkook’s waist, the ball of yarn unravels on the floor, winding around their ribs. Meanwhile, his other hand moves to tuck away a stray lock of hair, clearing the obstruction from his view of Jungkook’s soft, mesmerizing eyes.

With a fond smile, he whispers, “And I’ll raise hell if we don’t ambush Mother with matching sweaters that spell ‘boyfriends’ this Christmas,” before pressing their lips together once more.

The unruly organ in Jungkook’s chest stirs into a rebellious frenzy, betraying him as it races to break free, surrendering itself recklessly to Taehyung’s kiss.

“Will you be my boyfriend, Kookie?” Taehyung mumbles into his open mouth, and Jungkook smiles against the words, feeling his heartbeat steady, not spike.

“Would love to.” The words come out soft but sure like a promise already made.

And for once, Jungkook feels perfectly at ease in the quiet of it all, knowing he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

Chapter Text

The corridor is finally quiet. Everyone who stayed behind has had their feast—ghosts, spirits, and lonesome professors like him. The dinners are wrapped up, and the only figures lingering in the hallways are the flickering shadows cast by the flames of the wall torches. Yet, he is here—just shy of breaking into a sprint, walking with rapid, long strides, his steps soft and deliberate to avoid making a sound.

It’s nearly the next day, only a couple of hours until midnight, and he needs to reach the cabin—all because of that one foggy cloud.

The cheeky ancient spirit, the love of his life—

“The ghost of divination now haunts your soul. Kiss it to take their heart, Hobi,” a gritty voice says. And before he can even process the words, he’s pulled through the wall, the shift in surroundings dizzying.

Soon, the warmth of gentle hands engulfs him in an embrace, grounding him in the moment.

"Let the ghost know they have my entire being," he murmurs, tilting his head back to savor the kisses trailing deeper down his nape, each one sending a ripple through his senses.

“Kiss me, my beloved.” the other implores.

He pivots, their chests meeting as their lips draw near. They taste one another in a sweet, long-anticipated kiss—his heart racing against the faint warmth of the dearest’s phantom pulse. Such a pleasure it is to be in each other’s arms, a year’s worth of yearning culminating in this tender embrace.

“Whenever we kiss, I hear the bells ringing.” comes a whisper as they pull back, their foreheads resting together—such a long torturous wait, every year.

He breathes a chuckle, “It’s because of Christmas.”

“Hmm…could be. But the bells were always there, Hobi. Even when we used to snuck into the Room of Requirement and—”

“Shh,” he interrupts, covering their mouth, a smile threatening to break through his pressed lips as he chides, “It’s a holy day—don’t bring that up now.”

“My Hoba’s shy, huh.”

“Jinnie, stop~”

Familiar laughter rings through the cabin as Hobi playfully swats at the chest—hidden beneath a frilly white button-down—but his hand slips straight through the spectral figure.

“Oh my god, I will leave you here. Stop with the teasing already.”

“Okay, okay, come back.”

Jinnie pulls him close again, fingers combing gently through his hair while the other hand cradles his neck. Their magic flutters with every touch, sparks of violet over the skin and between threads.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs after a pause, resting his chin against Jinnie’s chest to look up. “Merry 249th Christmas, Moon.”

“You as well, beloved. Just don’t mention numbers please, makes me feel old.”

Before Hoseok can take another swing, Jinnie shifts into his spirit form, dissolving into a swirl of purple fog that drifts deeper into the cabin, a mischievous chuckle trailing in his wake.

“You are an old hag, Kim Seokjin.” Hoseok retorts, hot on his toes.

“Don’t go all birth name on me, beloved. Jinnie is young.”

“Tell that to your Hat. You know how cranky your voice sounds during sorting.”

“That’s part of the persona, you know it!”

They settle on the floor beside the woolen snips haphazardly piled in the corner, perfect for leaning back and resting. Jinnie returns to his Christmas miracle tangible being as they lay side by side.

“But you have to admit, you’re really grouchy as fabric,” Hoseok says, an idea sparking as he lifts his head to look at Jinnie. “What if I wash you? Maybe it’s the dust, grime, or whatever else clinging to you.”

Jinnie stares at him, stupefied, eyes unblinking as if trying to gauge whether he’s joking or not. But the dumbfounded expression betrays him, laughter bursts out of Hoseok’s throat, loud and boisterous.

“Salazar! You should’ve seen yourself!” he howls, clutching his sides.

“Swear to Rowena, I’ll banish you! I thought you were serious for a second. The dirt gives character, you muck!”

Hoseok pinches Jinnie’s cheek, making him scowl as his lips pout and shoulders slump. “Your character put the poor Jeon boy through the wringer.”

“As if! Your prophecy had it coming. If it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t be here kissing and knitting.”

“Aww, my Cupid-Luna,” Hoseok teases, grinning ear to ear. “Go on, tell me—what else are they up to?”

Jinnie shoots him a sharp side-eye. “You’re a Divination professor, and you’re asking me about the horoscope?”

“I love it when you gush over their puppy love. Now hurry up, my young Jinnie—fill me in.”

Jinnie crosses his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling with a dazed expression before letting out a sigh. “Fine.”

Hoseok snickers, excitement lighting up his face as he shifts closer, resting his head on Jinnie’s folded arms.

“I told you about Halloween Night, right? They kissed here, surrounded by all the wool threads and everything,” Hoseok hums. “Since then, they’ve been coming here every day, cozying up together and knitting their Christmas sweaters. Taehyung was teaching Jungkook—so patient, so sweet. The energy was adorable.”

“They haven’t yet figured out why this cabin is enchanted?”

“Nah, Taehyung only saw my magic once, back when he stumbled in here. And honestly, they don’t care.”

“Bet they’re busy being lovey-dovey,” Hoseok raves, a playful grin spreading across his face.

Jinnie rolls his eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re impossible.”

He shrugs, unapologetic. “How did the sweaters come out?”

“They were lovely. Taehyung finished his in mid-November, then helped Jungkook with his. The boy messed up the threads sometimes, but the 'friends' part was legible. Very good for a first attempt, Taehyung praised him too.”

“Wait, what ‘friends’ part?”

“How would I know, Hobi? I can only sense the cabin’s energy and sometimes hear it when the emotions get too strong.”

“Well, I’ll definitely see them wearing them one of these days. Anyway, you—”

Before Hoseok could finish his sentence, a familiar rarity drifts through the enchanted walls, clutching something in its tiny claws.

“Tannie?” Jinnie murmurs, both of them sitting so the bird can nestle into their laps.

“What are you doing here, buddy?” Hoseok wonders, gently caressing the bird’s silver, fluffy neck as Tannie nuzzles his palm.

The bird hops onto Hoseok’s shoulder, dropping the clutched items into his hand. They’re two letters—one green, the other blue. He flips them over to reveal the seal from the student post system. Intrigued, he unseals the one addressed to Professor Jung, leaving the other, nameless, untouched.

“What does it say?” Jinnie asks, peering over his shoulder.

“Jungkook asked if I could somehow make this letter reach the Sorting Hat itself. Not the spirit, this time.”

Jinnie raises an eyebrow, clearly confused. “Why would he request that? How will I open the envelope in my Hat form? I have no hands.”

Hoseok shrugs, his fingers absently tracing the edge of the letter. “I don’t know, Moon. Wanna see the other one?” Without waiting for a response, he wordlessly offers the other letter to Jinnie, his curiosity piqued.

As they quietly read the letter together, the request slowly starts making sense. At the signoff at the end of the letter, Hoseok can no longer keep the amusement at bay and barks a loud snort.

“And the boy doubted if he was anything other than Slytherin.” He remarks, his body shaking with laughter.

Jinnie cracks a smile himself. “Little Sly Jeon,” he good-naturedly breathes, for once, since a long time, bubbling with the pride of doing his job impeccably well.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖

When Taehyung said they’d gobsmack Mistress Hee-Yeon with the ‘boyfriends’ sweater, Jungkook only agreed because he imagined it would be at a lovely brunch, maybe dinner at a stretch—but definitely not this.

This is a Gala. The Madhouse Christmas Gala.

The space is adorned in shades of emerald, from the rich carpet underfoot to the chandelier that hangs like a glimmering star at the sky-high ceiling. The drapes, tablecloths, even the furniture, all exude an air of expense and unattainability. Include the jewel-encrusted centerpieces in the observation, the room practically screams pretension—very Mad Sly.

He only accepted his Sly status two months ago, and it’ll likely take another decade before he feels anything for the Mad attribute. He doesn’t fit in, and he knows it.

His sweater is as ugly as they come, nowhere near the exquisite furs and high-necked ensembles the guests are flaunting. Forget the sweater for a moment—he doesn’t spot a single child or teen in the crowd. Where are the people of his age bracket? 

Most of all, why the hell is Taehyung taking so long to get them something other than the wines and champagnes the servers are peddling?

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” a high-pitched voice calls from his left, prompting him to glance over. He’s momentarily stunned to see none other than—

“Sally Scribblers,” he mutters under his breath.

The woman, chunky and petite, dressed in a lemon-yellow cardigan over a scarlet satin dress, known far and wide as the most irksome and opportunistic journalist of the present time, looks down at him with popped brows. He really shouldn’t be surprised that Mistress Hee-Yeon invited this sensationalist to her Gala—after all, any press is good press.

“My, my, my, what do we have here?” she drawls, giving him a once-over through her pointed, pompous glasses. “What’s a Ranger doing in Madhouse? Finally drawn to pretence and politics, my boy?”

She accentuates her words by stretching out her hand, as if flaunting her incredulous magenta nail beds to him. He stares at the offered gesture, clueless, unsure of what to do.

Scribblers roll her eyes condescendingly. “You kiss and greet, Ranger!” she sighs, retracting her talons before Jungkook can even grasp her hand to comply. “Can’t believe I called you a gentleman.”

“Anyways,” She heedlessly continues, clicking her fingers to summon the infamous Quick Quotes Quill. “What brings you here today? But, first, begin with the introduction.”

She jumps straight to business, never slacking at her cherished job. However, he way she speaks unnerves Jungkook, as if every tongue roll has an underlying malice. Yet, he indulges.

“My name’s Jeon Jungkook, youngest of Raven Rangers and the first Slytherin of the family. Umm…I am here because—”

“You’re a Sly?” she screeches, cutting him off mid-sentence. Her eyes sparkle with curiosity and sharp inquisition as she leans in, speaking almost directly into his ear. “What made you rebel against your family? Was it the allure of status, or something else entirely?”

Jungkook leans back slightly, hoping to create some space and avoid Scribblers breathing down his neck, but the woman simply steps closer, nodding insistently to urge him to speak.

“It’s nothing like that. Sorting is entirely independent of personal desires—you’re surely aware of that,” he tries to temper her eagerness. But she must be a master at twisting narratives because the conclusions she draws are wildly different.

“So, you had Slyness hidden beneath layers of Raven intellect. Fascinating,” she remarks, her quill scratching relentlessly against the flimsy parchment, flipping it over as soon as the page fills. “Tell me, Jeon Jungkook, was this Mistress Hee-Yeon's ulterior motive in inviting you here? And how did Lady Ravenstone and Advisor Jeon take the news?”

He blinks, surprised at the mention of Granny and Mother in a conversation that nowhere ties to them. “Granny and Mother had no complaints; they welcomed me all the same. We even celebrated the first Slytherin addition.” Nonetheless, forces a smile.

“I sense a deflection regarding the subject of the Gala’s invitation. Is it something you’d prefer not to discuss?”

Jungkook internally grinds his teeth. The woman is one hell of a troublemaker—insanely good at her job, he has to acknowledge. Thankfully, before another round of gnawing curiosities launches at him, his Sly Prince on a shiny emerald broom comes to the rescue.

“Your drink, darling,” Taehyung murmurs, offering him a fuzzy pink cocktail while his hand settles lightly on Jungkook’s waist. “Special requests take time, especially for fruity ones. Sorry for the wait.” He tops off his apology with a soft kiss on his cheek.

A warm blush spreads across Jungkook’s face, his ears tinged red as he catches sight of Sally Scribblers’ unhinged jaw. The woman, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, stares at the pair of them in stunned silence. Even her quill falls flat onto the parchment, mirroring her astonishment. Taehyung, on the other hand, seems blissfully unaware of their unwelcome company.

Instead, sweetly asks, “Do you not like the drink, Kookie? There’s no peach, I promise.”

Jungkook meets the boy’s gentle and concerned eyes—offering a little smile, he wordlessly sips. Taehyung’s own lips curl in honest delight when his face shows appreciation for the drink.

Scribblers chooses the core moment to pounce on them.

“I see the reason for the deflection now—clear as day,” she preens, coy and conceited.

The sound immediately draws Taehyung’s attention, causing him to instinctively pull Jungkook closer. “Sally, I almost didn’t notice you.”

The woman lets out a shrill laugh. “Oh, don’t kid, Sly Prince. These clothes are as flashy as they come.”

A chuckle involuntarily escapes Jungkook’s throat—the woman is certainly self-aware—however, covers it up just fine. “Yes, don’t joke like that, Taehyungie,” he fake-laughs, lightly swatting at Taehyung’s chest. His fingers drum over the draped muffler for a flicker of a second, and the boy gets the message.

“So, what was the conversation about before I arrived?” Taehyung steers the attention, gallantly taking Scribblers’ hand in greeting. She slightly shrugs her left shoulder, a pointed gesture towards the earlier situation. Jungkook forces himself not to roll his eyes at the woman’s childish behavior.

“Mr. Jeon was just sharing a tidbit about his sorting curveball and the Gala invite. Nothing too exciting, really.” she tells.

Taehyung and him share a look, “The Slytherin twist, yes, what a delightful turn of events. The Sorting Hat never fails to surprise, does it?” Scribblers nod obsequiously, and Jungkook subtly leans into his boyfriend. “And about the invitation—Kookie is my date.”

Her smile gleams. “What a lovely surprise, young love!” Not a trace of sincere warmth lingering.

“Also, we are keeping it a little low for the time being, for that reason, please—” 

Scribblers gesture fervently, her hand sweeping the air, “Of course, of course, I understand.”

"Thank you for your thoughtfulness," Taehyung genuinely expresses. Yet, with her quill tirelessly scratching across the parchment since the boy arrived, Jungkook feels her words are nothing but empty promises.

"Well, I’ll take my leave now. Merry Christmas," she chirps, almost too eagerly, then pivots on her kitten heels and walks away. 

Ensuring she’s truly gone and won’t be returning anytime soon, Taehyung pauses briefly and asks, “What was that about?”

“Honestly,” Jungkook drawls, taking a sip of the cocktail his boyfriend brought him, “I have no idea.”

“So, wanna meet Mother now?”

"Sure," he replies, adjusting his sweater to ensure the bold, knitted letters stand out unmistakably.

“You know, I tried the sweater again yesterday,” Jungkook says, leaning his head against Taehyung’s chest, worn out from their half-hearted attempt to clean the secret cabin. It’s just as messy as before; now, the scattered pieces and stray wool have simply been pushed into a corner, forming a cozy nook to lounge in.  

Nearby, Bammie sits proudly in a little glass terrarium, nestled on a patch of moss that Jungkook had painstakingly arranged for him. Every now and then, the tad gives a tiny hop, contentedly exploring his snug habitat.  

“You did?” Taehyung murmurs absently, his attention fixed on the special book he had brought a few days ago—one he hadn’t even told Jungkook about, cunningly keeping the paperback covered before he could catch a glimpse.  

“Yeah, it’s funny, though.” Jungkook shifts slightly, resting his chin atop Taehyung as he watches the boy’s serene expression. “It was in better shape than I made it. Every misplaced weave and unruly thread was carefully restored. Do you have any idea how?”  

There isn’t much reaction. Taehyung’s expression doesn’t shift into any recognition or confusion; he doesn’t let any emotion slip through. However, Jungkook has seen, admired, and mentally written prose about his boyfriend’s beautiful features—mapping every lift and crinkle of his delight, worry, and even pretend oblivion.  

Which is why, when Taehyung mutters, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Darling,” while keeping his gaze steady on the book, not moving his eyes—somehow thinking Jungkook wouldn’t notice that he isn’t reading, but rather boring into the words—Jungkook responds with, “But I think you do, TaeTae.”  

As if on cue, Bammie hops against the glass with a soft plop, “See? Even Bammie agrees.” he chaffs.

A warm flush floods Taehyung’s cheeks then, and Jungkook could no longer keep it in. He giggles, throwing an arm across his waist and hugging him, nudging his nose into Taehyung’s neck, hiding away despite not being the one blushing.  

“You’re adorable, Taehyungie,” Jungkook says softly, a dreamy grin spreading across his face. “Sneaking back here to fix all my little mishaps—such a thoughtful sweetheart.” His head rests comfortably, cradled in Taehyung’s hand, as the other places a tender kiss to his temple.  

“It’s you who’s the sweetheart. The sweetest heart.” Taehyung replies with a gentle smile. “That’s the least I could do after you poked yourself a hundred times with those knitting needles.” He intertwines their fingers, bringing Jungkook’s hand to his lips and pressing delicate kisses to the bandaged tips.  

“You know, I really, really like you, right?”  

“I really, really like you too, darling. Now, rest. We have to pack for the holidays soon.” Taehyung leaves another kiss, this time on the crown of his head, as Jungkook cozies into the warmth of his embrace.  

The boy resumes reading his book—Baby Wizards’ Guide to Muggle Culture—while Jungkook drifts into his nap, resting against him, dreaming. In his terrarium, Bammie hops into a tiny ceramic house Jungkook had picked out, settling in for a nap of his own.  

Despite the crowd rivalling the size of Hogwarts’ student body, finding Mistress Hee-Yeon wasn’t that laborious. As it turned out, she was looking for the pair of them as well.

“You actually made it here.” The woman sophisticatedly derides, eyes punched straight at the plus one, “How’s the experience so far?”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Mother.” Taehyung speaks instead, “I reckoned that’s what, I’d be delighted if you bought company , meant.” 

The matriarch and her son continue to hold an intensely tension-filled gaze, so unnerving that Jungkook decides to respond to MadSly’s earlier jibe-turned-greeting.

“Lovely evening, Mistress Hee-Yeon. Happy Christmas; it’s a pleasure to be here.” He musters up a small smile, tad bit crooked, but should do.

“Christmas as well, Jungkook. Did you meet anybody interesting?” She turns pleasant then.

“No many, I am afraid, we actually arrived a few hours ago and Sally Scribblers ambushed us as soon.” 

“Did she now?” Mistress lingers, keenly interested, a flicker of what the Scribblers showed glimmering faintly. To make things even stranger, she jovially comments on his sweater. “Friends,” she reads off, “What a lovely knitwear, got it as a present, Jungkook?”

He pinches the wool between his fingers, rising slightly to catch a glimpse of the words he carefully knitted. “Thank you, I made it myself,” he says, a proud smile tugging at his lips. He feels Taehyung’s soft grin too, and the warmth of it sends the pride in his chest blooming even more.

Mistress Hee-Yeon doesn’t regard his words immediately, just lets out a distracted hum as she prances a little closer, feeling the bottom of his sweater.

“Impressive, though a daring choice,” she says, dragging her polished nail across the highlight of the F, “To wear at a Gala.” She steps back, casting a glance toward Taehyung as if the words were meant for him.

However, before Jungkook can clear anything with her—settle the tension in the air once and for all—Taehyung’s hand returns to his waist.

“It’s a matching sweater, Mother,” he affirms, adjusting his muffler slightly to make the garment more visible.  

His mother merely glimpses before her expression shifts. “When asked to bring a plus one, I thought it would be Jimin, but I should’ve known better. Of course, it’s the half-blood Ranger.” She scoffs. “We don’t mingle with Ranger House for a reason, Taehyung. Can’t you see this—this ordinariness?”

For the first time since they've known each other, Jungkook understands why Taehyung is called the Ice Prince at Hogwarts. The boy’s demeanor changes completely—his eyes harden, his lips press into a tight line, and he stands all solemn, glowering.

Not only that, he nudges Jungkook behind him, his stance so protective that Jungkook has to fight the urge to kiss him silly right then and there.

“I never appreciated you looking down on others because of their blood status, and neither I do now. You should apologize, Mother, for belittling Jungkook. Twice.”

Mistress stares, taken aback that Taehyung would even suggest such a thing. “You’ve lost your mind, sweetheart. He’s just a friend—he’ll get over it. Right, boy?”

Jungkook peeks over Taehyung’s shoulder, ready to step forward and smooth things over, intending to politely ask for an apology. But before he can, Taehyung grabs his hand, ushers him forward, and positions him right beside him. Then, with a casual motion, he throws an arm around him, pulling him in.

“Friend or not, you ought to apologize. Also,” and uses his free hand to unravel the muffler completely, revealing the word knitted on his sweater. “Kookie is my boyfriend. We’re together.”

The bright orange BOY shines blazing over the beige, a beautiful contrast with Jungkook’s dark green FRIENDS on ivory threads. 

Like salt on the wound, Taehyung adds, “We knitted them together. Have been for the past couple of months just for today.”

With a halted breath, he waits for the woman’s reaction, anything from tantrums to hot delirium. However, instead of anything they could have predicted, Mistress lets out a maniacal laugh, as unhinged as her polished demeanor can allow in a celebratory Gala. 

“You’re proud of finally standing up for yourself, aren’t you, sweetheart?” she mocks, pointing sarcastically. “So proud of your little date that you hid your revelation behind that muffler.”

Her words hold the potential to cut as sharply as a knife, stinging and demoralizing, but they could hold no candle at the moment. Not when—

“The only reason I’m flaunting the muffler more than the sweater is because it’s Grandma Jeon’s present to me. I received it as For My Other Slytherin Son, unlike the way you’ve been addressing Jungkook since you met.” Taehyung speaks with utter somberness, his tone almost cold. “I ask you again, Mother, please, apologize.”

The silence that follows feels suffocating, the weight of it pressing harder than the lively buzz of the Gala around them. 

Jungkook unconsciously tries to step back, attempting to hide behind Taehyung’s back and escape the uncomfortable tension, but the boy doesn’t relent his hold on Jungkook’s arm. Instead, he pulls him closer, shoulder to shoulder, eye to eye with Mistress Hee-Yeon.

Jungkook looks everywhere else as she sharply gauges them, while Taehyung silently challenges her to do or say anything that doesn’t end with the apology he’s demanded.

The charged atmosphere finally lifts when Mistress’ stance softens. “Dear Jeon boy,” she exhales slowly, stepping forward and lightly placing her hand on top of his folded ones. He flinches slightly at the unexpected touch, and Taehyung squeezes his arm, grounding him. “I am truly delighted you came here today. And I apologize for everything my son found displeasing.”

She offers a small smile. Jungkook nods hesitantly.

“Also, in good faith,” Mistress Hee-Yeon adds after a pause, her gaze shifting to her son while keeping her hand firmly atop Jungkook’s, “there aren’t many guests here your age. It might be better if you both excused yourselves early.” Her tone is smooth, but the insinuation is clear.

“Merry Christmas, Sly Prince, and Raven.”

It’s finally Christmas Eve tomorrow. He’ll be heading back home to celebrate with family and loved ones—exchanging gifts, lots of them, and sipping Gran’s special cranberry punch while teasing each other.

He’s happy to be going back home. They always celebrate the holiday with full zeal and open hearts—something worth looking forward to. Yet, he doesn’t feel quite so. Jungkook should be happy to go back home, but he isn’t. Not as much as he thought he would be.

“What’s got you so sullen, darling?” Taehyung asks, somehow sensing his mood despite not looking up, his attention focused on preening Tannie’s feathers.

“How do you know I’m sullen? Pretty sure my default expression is set to bitch face,” he retorts, climbing onto the fluffy bed beside Taehyung and gently rubbing his index finger over the phoenix’s little head.

The birdie shudders, leaning into his touch and asking for more pets. He gladly obliges.

“Please, Kookie. You couldn’t pull off a perpetual frown if you tried,” Taehyung teases, rolling his eyes. “Not with those adorable cheeks and such wide, guileless eyes.”

“Shut up!” Jungkook swats at his boyfriend, causing him to jolt slightly, along with Tannie perched on his lap. Immediately remorseful, Jungkook quickly cradles the bird, soothing its ruffled being. “I can be plenty frowny,” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Taehyung shrugs, disarming Jungkook with a brief kiss on his lips, effectively turning him into a ball of gush. “So, penny for your thoughts?”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a moment, glaring at his boyfriend for the sneaky yet undeniably attractive tactic of silencing him. After a beat, he slumps his shoulders, his body losing its tension as he leans against Taehyung. 

Mumbling through a pout, he says, “I’m just…sad that we’re not spending Christmas together. You didn’t even let me buy you a present.”

“Oh, my adorable Kookie.” Taehyung coos, holding his hand over Tannie’s neck, “I can’t let you do that after how much effort you put into learning knitting and making that sweater. It was the loveliest present I could ask for.”

“But how is that fair? We won’t even be wearing sweaters made for each other—I’ll wear the one I knitted, and you’ll wear yours.”

“It’s fair, darling. Fair and thoughtful,” Taehyung says, freeing his hand to comb through Jungkook’s hair in comfort. “I was supposed to knit sweaters for both of us, but you took the thread and made yours instead—asking me to teach you, no less. And then, on top of that, you turned down every gift idea I even remotely suggested. There’s only so much I can let you do.”

Jungkook grumbles, “My competitive ass won’t let you out-gift me. Ever.”

“Yes, yes. You and your crafty ways. Cheer up—we’ll still be meeting to pull one over on my mother. Consider the satisfaction our gift to each other.”

“And you called me crafty.” 

Just as he finishes, a soft flutter of wings interrupts their moment. An owl swoops in, landing gracefully on the window sill. It ruffles its feathers, blinking at them with wide, knowing eyes. Jungkook raises an eyebrow.

“Who’s this?” he asks, amused.

Taehyung tilts his head, recognizing the bird. “She’s from the Madhouse,” he says, walking over to the window. The owl holds out her leg, where a small, rolled-up parchment is attached.

Handing a drowsy Tannie to Jungkook, Taehyung beckons the owl with a soft click of his fingers. With effortless ease, the bird glides over and perches on Taehyung’s shoulder. He deftly unties the note and unfolds it with care, as Jungkook looks on, curiosity piqued.

“Your wish is granted, darling,” Taehyung remarks after a pause. “Would you like to be my date for the Madhouse Christmas party?”

“I can’t believe your mother threw us out.”

“Tell me about it. I’m even more shocked she apologized without sounding condescending.”

They are huddled at the Three Broomsticks. The inn is warmly decorated and cozy, and all of Hogsmeade seems to be dancing in the merry spirit. It’s somewhat nice to be spending their first holiday together here instead of at the Gala. It feels more intimate—a sweeter memory to cherish.

“You didn’t think she would have?” Jungkook asks, lifting his butterbeer for a sip, the fizz tickling his upper lip.  

“Truth?” Taehyung poses, cradling his mug of hot chocolate. “I thought she’d throw us out sooner. Honestly, I just wanted her to know I don’t tolerate her talking down to you—like, at all. I’m lucky we were at a crowded Gala and not Madhouse.”

“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not convinced it was sincere. I doubt it’ll stick,” Jungkook says with a small smile. “Still, it means a lot that you stood up for me. Thank you.”

Taehyung looks at him, his eyes drifting over his face before he leans in to place a lingering kiss on his lips—tasting sickeningly of butterbeer and cocoa as Jungkook wets his lips afterward.

“You are so beautiful. Can’t believe I got to call you mine.” He pecks once again, a little more, three times. The butterflies in Jungkook’s stomach run wild. “I adore you.”

“I adore you more,” Jungkook breathes, quickly covering his blossoming cheeks with the rim of his glass, hoping Taehyung won’t notice the blush creeping onto his ears.  

Yet, they link their pinkies under the table, shy with their feelings and words, touching in the most innocent sense, but with hearts thudding as if they are anything but.  

Side by side, they languidly sip their drinks, time slipping by unnoticed. People come and go through the inn—sometimes it’s loud, other times a quiet hush settles in. They lounge through it all, their pinkies gradually intertwining into hands, their hearts finding their rhythm once again.

When the last drop of butterbeer slides down his throat, Taehyung gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “Wanna leave?”

Jungkook glances at the other’s empty mug, the warmth of the cocoa long gone. “Yeah,” he replies with a nod, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

They settle the bill at the counter before stepping outside—hand in hand, the snow-covered streets welcome them.

“I’m glad you asked me to stay with you for the holiday,” Taehyung says, his tone light but sincere. “Can’t imagine going back just to retrieve my unpacked luggage from the Madhouse. Mother would’ve ambushed me the second I walked through the door.” He lets out a dry chuckle, more amused than annoyed by the thought. 

Jungkook joins in, giggling himself. “And Gran would’ve pestered me the entire time if I didn’t. She’s clearly adopted you,” he mumbles, gesturing to the beloved muffler Taehyung has been sporting like a prized possession.

“Not my fault I am that loveable.” 

He playfully pushes his cheeky boyfriend away, laughing as he says, “Get out.” But Taehyung barely gives him a moment to retreat, tugging him back in an instant by the waist.

“Aren’t I adorable, Kookie?” Taehyung teases, his breath warm against Jungkook’s temple before pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

Like a puddle melting in a hot spring, Jungkook bashfully nods. “You are. Very much so,” he mumbles, pulling Taehyung closer, instinctively tucking his other hand into his pants pocket. That’s when he feels it—the forgotten weight of something he had tucked away earlier.

He pulls out the envelopes he had stashed in his pocket before leaving Hogwarts, still snug in the folds of his pants.

“What are these?” Taehyung asks, looking down at the blue and green letters.

“Can you please ask Tannie to deliver these to Professor Jung for the last time?” he requests, continuing when Taehyung tilts his head. “These are parting letters, of sorts. I’m finally happy with my House. Thought I should have some closure with everything I endured at the hands of that Hat.”

Taehyung takes the letters from his hand, a soft grin spreading across his face. “Of course, Darling. No need to say please.” He gently presses his lips to Jungkook’s, both of them savoring the warmth, cherishing how the day led to this moment.

To the Lovely-Grumpy Sorting Hat,

This is the final time you’ll hear from me—assuming, of course, you can somehow manage to open this letter despite your obvious lack of crucial body parts like hands. It’s funny how you lack legs or hands but still possess such a big mouth. One that runs wild. Truly remarkable.

Please take my words to heart, but don’t try to read between the lines. I’m no longer salty about the way you shredded my pristine reputation to bits during the ceremony, with absolutely no regard, whatsoever. I’ve found peace in my life. My young and spirited self has discovered a lover, someone I cherish deeply—all thanks to you getting on my nerves and driving me to extremes, like employing a rare Phoenix to deliver my disdain-filled letters. But that’s all in the past.

I am happy now, and absolutely adored by the people who matter most to me. So, it’s all good.

However, as you’ve probably deduced by now, I’ve fully embraced my Slytherin-ness. In light of my newfound self-awareness, I’ve decided to close this chapter by leaving you a poem—one I wrote long ago, back when you gave me a riddle instead of a simple answer at the Tahira Cavern.

If you’re as wistful as you claim to be, you’ll notice I’ve corrected a few verses of your Sorting Song. Enjoy my creative endeavors. Consider this my closure, my gift to you.

Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge by what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head,
The Sorting Hat can't see.
For I know everything and beyond,
Sorting you to right house is guarantee.

But I can sometimes be wrong too,
Though won't admit or it'll etch.
Lead you to Slytherin not Ravenclaw,
Because I am Sorting Hat who is a bitch.

~By yours truly,
Jeon Jungkook (Slytherin)

Frenzy in the MadHouse: Sly Prince Debuts Romance with Youngest Ranger!

(Hot tea brought to you by none other than the sensational Sally Scribblers)
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