If one had a choice, they would definitely not choose the dilapidated Shrieking Shack as their dwelling, its walls peeling, floors stained, moth-eaten furniture, and boarded-up windows, allowing only a microscopic stream of light into the building.

This was not the first time Valeria has used a memory charm on fellow witches and wizards, and naturally, she has become quite proficient with them. How else would she be able to maintain her secret?

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.