The castle felt different after Christmas — quieter, colder, with long icicles hanging from the battlements and frost creeping like lace across the windows. Students returned in clusters, scarves wrapped up to their noses, chattering about gifts and family gatherings.
Luna and I returned to our routine as if nothing had changed, yet everything felt subtly… warmer. As though the snow we had walked through together at the Lovegood home still clung to us like soft starlight.
One evening, after classes, we slipped toward the library. The castle corridors were dim, lit only by torches that crackled softly. Our breath made faint clouds in the chilly air. My cat trotted behind us with its tail raised like a flag.
"We should add more creatures to our journal," Luna murmured as we pushed through the tall library doors. "Especially the ones we haven't researched yet. I was thinking… perhaps basilisks?"
I nearly tripped on the carpet.
"Basilisks? The giant serpent that can kill with a single look?"
Luna nodded dreamily, as if we were discussing butterflies. "A misunderstood creature, really. Deadly, yes, but still magnificent. Father wrote once that their scales can refract moonlight in patterns no human eye can completely understand."
"That's… both beautiful and terrifying."
"Yes! Exactly why we need to learn more."
We found a secluded corner table, warmed by an enchanted lamp that hummed faintly. Luna's fingers brushed mine as she set her books down, and that familiar flutter filled my chest.
Madam Pince glared at us over her spectacles from across the room — as if sensing mischief — then returned to stamping overdue books with exaggerated force.
Luna fetched the thick, dusty tome Moste Dangerous Magical Creatures and returned with it hugged to her chest. When she set it down, it thumped so loudly that a second-year nearby jumped.
Together, we opened to the chapter titled:
"The Basilisk: King of Serpents."
The ink on the page seemed almost alive, curling into monstrous illustrations of gigantic emerald scales, teeth like daggers, and eyes drawn in vivid, unsettling detail.
"It says here," Luna read softly, "that the basilisk is born from a chicken's egg hatched beneath a toad. That seems uncomfortable."
"For which one?" I asked.
"Both, probably."
We giggled, earning another warning glare from Madam Pince.
I leaned closer, reading over Luna's shoulder. The description was chilling:
Its gaze causes instant death — unless viewed indirectly, which results only in petrification.
Only. Only.
I shivered.
"Imagine," Luna whispered, "a creature so powerful that even looking at its reflection is dangerous."
"I'd prefer not to imagine that too much."
Luna traced the drawing of its scales with her fingertip. "But imagine what it would be like to see its shed skin. Or the tunnels they leave behind. Or how they move… like rivers of emerald shadow, probably. And they live for centuries."
She was glowing with fascination, and even though my spine tingled with fear, I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm.
"You'd go looking for one, wouldn't you?" I asked.
She shrugged lightly. "Maybe. But only if you came with me."
I pressed my lips together to stop the laugh — not because it was funny, but because the idea of looking for a basilisk with Luna… was exactly the sort of thing we would do.
"In theory," I said carefully, "we could observe one safely using a system of mirrors. Or enchanted glass. Or—"
"Or not at all," came a dry, familiar voice behind us.
We froze.
Professor Snape stood there, cape hanging dramatically as if conjured from shadows. His expression was unimpressed enough to curdle milk.
"While your enthusiasm for academic research is… uncharacteristically productive," he drawled, "I would advise against entertaining fantasies involving lethal serpents."
"We were only reading," I said quickly.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "You were whispering in a tone most students reserve for mischief. I suggest you redirect your curiosity to living through your education."
With that, he swept away, leaving a trail of dread behind him.
We exhaled at the same time.
Luna leaned closer to me and murmured, "He worries about students more than he shows."
"Really? That's what you got from that?"
"Yes. He talked to us instead of taking points. That's affection for him."
I giggled, covering my mouth.
We spent another hour flipping through diagrams — fangs, venom sacs, skeletal structure drawings that made Luna tilt her head with admiration and me squirm in my seat. She took notes in her quirky, flowing handwriting, occasionally brushing her hand over mine as we shared the same scroll.
When the library grew darker and colder, we finally closed the book.
"We should write this in our creature journal," Luna said softly. "Even if we never see a basilisk, learning about one together is enough."
"Yes," I whispered. "More than enough."
She smiled, warm and bright even in the dimness.
We slipped out into the hallway, walking close enough that our cloaks brushed. And though basilisks were deadly, silent, ancient monsters…
The only dangerous thing in that moment was how fast my heart was beating because of Luna Lovegood.