They were supposed to be watching her. Every name on the rotation chart, every wand on the payroll. Hagrid always said goodnight. Lupin told her the stars moved when no one was looking. McGonagall had a whole list of bedtime rules she forgot the moment the door closed.
But tonight?
No one knocked.
And the wards didn’t whisper.
So she left.
Not to run. Not to escape.
She just... wandered.
Because when you're a kid, corridors are forests.
Statues are mountains.
Silence isn’t eerie—it’s inviting.
Thanatos followed, as he always did.
Massive and moonlit, his black fur swallowed torchlight as though even flame dared not touch him. His ribs expanded slowly with breath, his head arching above hers like a storm waiting to fall.
He didn’t pace her.
He shielded her.
Because she didn’t feel fear.
Because he carried it for her.
Somewhere down a spiral of forgotten stairs, they turned a corner into hallways the older students avoided. She touched one wall, whispering, “This one hums funny.”
Thanatos listened to the dark behind them.
She looked down. “Did I dream my name last night, or did the castle say it?”
His ears twitched, nose lifting toward some sour scent curling in the distant air.
She paused, then looked up at him—wide-eyed, calm. “They’re still trying, huh?”
Thanatos gave no sound. Just stared into the shadows ahead. He didn’t like the quiet this close to the eastern wing.
Especially not when it was supposed to be protected.
Far below, five names gathered around a flickering charm-map. The girl's dot pulsed—slow, steady, oblivious.
“She’s out again,” Theo said, watching the map like a blade he hadn’t decided how to use yet.
Mattheo’s smile was lazy, his back against the dungeon wall. “If she wasn’t so small, I’d call it bold. But maybe she just thinks no one can touch her.”
“She’s not wrong,” Blaise murmured, kneeling near the map’s edge. “Not with that bloody wolf attached to her hip.”
Draco scoffed, eyes sharp. “The girl trusts us. It’s the wolf we have to fool.”
“You don’t fool Thanatos,” Theo muttered. “You dodge him. Or you bleed.”
Snape’s voice slipped in from the shadows. “You wait until she’s far enough from a door. Until there’s no scream, no teacher within reach.”
Mattheo lifted his head. “And then what? We call her over with sweets? Bait her with a story?”
“You talk to her like everyone else does,” Blaise said. “Like she’s just a child. Not a weapon.”
“She’s not a weapon,” Theo said softly. “Not yet.”
Snape didn’t speak again. But they all heard the implication.
They had one window.
One moment.
One child.
Who smiled like the world couldn’t hurt her.