"Oh! Edward, it's your birthday today!" Pansy exclaimed, clearly caught off guard.

She hadn't expected that tailing Draco and the others would lead to stumbling upon this surprising moment.

"You'd better thank me properly! After all, I was the one who came up with the idea!" Draco said, hands on his hips, beaming with pride.

"And I'd love to know how you would've pulled off making this cake without me," Daphne interjected, arms crossed, her tone sharp.

"So, how did you guys make the cake?" Pansy asked, curiosity piqued.

Ordering a cake from Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade was simple enough, but the weather outside was dreadful. Getting an owl to deliver it could lead to all sorts of problems—delays, or worse, a ruined cake. Getting it here intact and looking good? That was another challenge entirely.

"There's a portrait of fruit near the Hufflepuff common room. Tickle the pear, and you get into the kitchens. We asked the house-elves there to make it," Daphne explained. "By the way, we got that tip from Gemma."

Edward nodded, recalling a passage from Hogwarts: A History. The book mentioned that the food at feasts was prepared by house-elves and magically transported to the tables. But were house-elves really that easy to persuade? They were already busy cleaning the common rooms and handling other tasks—surely they didn't have time to spare.

When he raised the question, Daphne just huffed and refused to elaborate.

"Let me explain," Draco jumped in. "We were a bit worried at first. I even thought about dropping my dad's name to, you know, nudge them along." He shot a cautious glance at Edward, catching himself. "But when we told the house-elves it was for Edward's birthday cake, they practically leaped for joy."

"Honestly, I've never seen house-elves so excited. The ones at my house are always so dreary," Draco continued. "They said Edward and Daphne always eat so much, which means their work is appreciated. They were thrilled to make a cake for Edward—and they even offered to make one for Daphne!"

Draco snickered, glancing at Daphne, who just stared back icily, not saying a word.

Pansy, sprawled on a nearby sofa, was practically doubled over with laughter.

Edward chuckled too, though his laugh was tinged with embarrassment. It was the first time he'd heard of being popular with house-elves just for having a big appetite.

"Shut it, Draco. Make your wish, Edward—don't waste time," Daphne said, narrowing her eyes and cutting off Draco and Pansy's giggles.

"Thanks, Draco, Daphne," Edward said softly. He turned to the cake, focusing as he made his wish.

Truthfully, Edward had a lot of wishes. Staring at the cake, he realized his placement in Slytherin was no accident or whim of the Sorting Hat. He had big dreams: to grow stronger, to master the next stage of the Breathing Technique, to help his Slytherin classmates move beyond pure-blood prejudices, to uncover the mastermind—or Black Knight—lurking at Hogwarts, to keep his parents safe, and to make Hogwarts great again. He wasn't just ambitious—he was wildly ambitious.

If he was going to make a wish, why not wish for it all?

Edward focused, letting his wishes flash through his mind one by one, zipping by like sparks.

Swish, swish, swish.

Wait. That sound wasn't just in his head.

Edward's head snapped up, his eyes peering into the darkness of the secret passage. It sounded like something being dragged across the floor. With his heightened focus, he could hear it clearly but couldn't quite make out what it was.

"Done with your wish? Hurry up, we've got one hour, fifty-eight minutes, and twenty-seven seconds until curfew," Daphne grumbled, snapping Edward out of his focus on the sound.

When he tried to listen again, the noise was gone. Maybe it was another student? Or some animal? Edward wasn't the only one who knew about this passage, but whoever it was likely wouldn't notice them—Edward had cast protective charms to keep their group hidden.

Edward and Daphne quickly polished off their cake slices. Draco only ate half of his, while Pansy hesitated, charmed by the little snake decoration but eventually eating it. Then, under Edward's guidance, they began their training.

Pansy started with the Shield Charm, with Edward personally coaching her. Draco and Daphne practiced the Disarming Charm against each other.

"Hey! That's the third time! Just you wait—next time, I'll get you!" Draco huffed, retrieving his wand from the corner after Daphne disarmed him again, his frustration palpable.

"Go ahead and try, Draco," Daphne taunted, twirling her wand without a hint of sympathy.

Edward could tell Daphne was in a mood today, full of pent-up frustration and channeling it into her spells. Emotional surges could amplify magic, but they also made your intentions easier to read.

Pansy was picking up the Shield Charm quickly, nearly forming an invisible barrier already.

"Well done, all three of you, but we're almost out of time," Edward said.

Amid Pansy's complaints, he called an end to their secret lesson. The four packed up and prepared to head back through the dark passage. But just as Edward extinguished the lights and was about to cast Lumos, that familiar sound reached his ears again.

Swish, swish, swish.

It was closer now, coming from the end of the corridor.

"What's wrong, Edward? We should—" Draco started, but Edward cut him off with a spell.

"*Quietus!*" Edward whispered, his voice barely audible. The Silencing Charm swallowed the rest of Draco's words into the darkness.

Edward had already cast a Silencing Charm around them for protection, but he still felt they shouldn't make a sound. He used his wand to trace a faintly glowing word on the floor: Quiet.

He didn't want to risk speaking, in case whoever—or whatever—was out there heard them. Even if it was just a student breaking curfew, they couldn't afford to be noticed. And rule-breakers usually moved in groups, just like the four of them.

Pansy looked confused, but Daphne immediately went on alert. She scratched a few words on the ground with her wand: Someone?

She didn't need Edward's response to know something was up. In the pitch-black, pin-drop silence of the corridor, the swish, swish, swish was unmistakable.

It was the sound of a cloak dragging across the floor.

The noise grew closer, moving toward them, then stopped in the darkness not far away.

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