Lysander’s demeanour and the words that followed seem rather honest, much like he was when Valeria had been acquainted with him the month before. There is a part of her that feels apologetic for being slightly belligerent and direct with him, but she must do anything to protect her secret.

The Whomping Willow’s branches are tamed, frozen in time under the faint gleam of the moon’s light, a silver orb halfway into the sky. Lumos. Wand still in hand, Valeria is about to make her way towards the tree’s roots, when she suddenly hears her name.

At the other end of the passage, through a small peephole, Valeria can only spot maybe five youthful bodies inside Scrivenshaft's - many of the younger students would have preferred Honeydukes or Zonkos. When the coast is relatively clear, Valeria steps out into the shop, nonchalantly, as if she hadn’t just appeared out of what was thought to be a supplies closet.

Surrounded by ancient titles and worn-out covers, Valeria thoroughly scans through the bookshelves in search for a spine labelled Hairy Snout, Human Heart - a recount of a wizard’s experience against lycanthropy. She is, however, not looking for this book specifically, but the one carefully placed to its right.

Hogsmeade weekends are Valeria’s favourite thing about being a witch at Hogwarts (aside from all the fascinating subjects, of course), especially with layers of snow perched on the rooftops.

Man is not man…

Valeria found herself wandering about the school grounds, admiring the first snow of the year.

[Sent by owl]

It is important to fight and fight again…

It’s getting excruciatingly more difficult to control each time.

I guess I’m pretty much of a lone wolf.

Everybody has their own smell, though Valeria does not know what she smells like to others. Naturally, that is.

Quite obviously, fantasy would characterize Valeria’s life because of her magical background. But then again, it is only considered fantastical in the eyes of muggles, so maybe that does not quite count.

“When you’re preoccupied, days of the week don’t seem to be of relative importance.” Valeria has to admit that for once, she was enjoying talking to somebody other than herself. Or her owl, for that matter.

It felt nice to know that someone appreciates and acknowledges her skills, no matter how small the situation may be.

Valeria had half-expected Lysander to catch her - since he is standing so close - but these expectations were turned to ashes as she feels the cold stone underneath her bare limbs.

In truth, Valeria is not so much curious about the classes - she’s already read some of her brother’s textbooks to get enough sense of what will be learned - as to just talking to the boy.