muzzle

Ivy Brown wrinkled her frozen nose and started rubbing it diligently. The winter in Scotland was much harsher than she was used to. Hogsmeade, which turned out to be exactly as her mother had told her, was the only place that didn't make her want to shiver uncontrollably and press her head into her shoulders. The village had already begun to be decorated for Christmas, and Ivy took advantage of every free minute to escape the castle. The constant trail of whispers from her classmates and other students made almost any walk around Hogwarts unbearable.

Her father, unlike her mother, never taught her to smile at those who, barely turning away, would drip poison, rubbing out another rumor for the thousandth time. He would take her with him almost every time he went to the mountains to collect rare ingredients, laughed louder than a thunderbird, and always said exactly what he thought. Ivy missed him terribly, and the rare letters could not replace his good-natured smile.

In gloomy thoughts, Brown walked along the snow-covered cobblestones, listening to her heels tapping rhythmically. Somewhere in the distance, the trills of a street musician could be heard, and the girl unconsciously listened in. 

“There you are!” a familiar voice came from somewhere from the side, like a scattering of bells fitting into the melody. "Ivy?"

The blonde snapped out of her thoughts and absentmindedly turned her head, searching for the source. To the right, Poppy stood wrapped in a huge, brightly striped scarf, nervously twisting her fingers and smiling all over. Brown shook her curly head and smiled back.

"I'm sorry, I was thinking," she confessed and shivered from the wind, remembering why she was here. "What did you want to talk about?"

Sweeting, instantly following her classmate, opened her eyes and, with a purposeful look, began to pull off the knitted strip rippling in her eyes.

“How did you get outside in such cold weather and didn't think to keep warm at all?” Poppy shook her head and handed the scarf to the American. “Here, don't worry, I'm pretty used to the cold.”

Ivy nodded gratefully without thinking for a long time and wrapped a soft fabric around her neck a couple of times, hiding her frozen, reddened nose in it and involuntarily inhaling the smell. After the frosty air, floral and fruity notes pleasantly tickled her nostrils. 

“Thank you! Did something happen to the egg?” Brown remembered their recent outing and instantly became more serious.

Horntail Hall. Just how did they end up in the very heart of the poacher's lair? Ivy still couldn't believe that they had managed to get out of there in one piece, but remembering Sweeting's frenzied fury as she cast spells, and how tremulously she clutched the rescued egg in her small hands, she couldn't help but smile. The girls agreed that Poppy would keep the trophy for the time being, but Brown did not doubt that Sweeting would want to return it to its rightful owner. The prospect of jumping with an egg in front of the eyes of a huge, enraged Hebridean Black dragon did not particularly excite the blonde, but something told her that the little belligerent Hufflepuff would be ready to march into the mouth of the beast alone if she decided that it would be safer for it that way. 

Poppy shook her head and nodded towards the Three Broomsticks.

“Everything's fine with the egg, I was wondering if you wanted to…” Ivy suddenly noticed that her classmate's slightly sticking-out ears and round cheeks were beginning to blush. "I wanted to thank you, and... would you like to have a Butterbeer?"

Brown raised her eyebrows in surprise and tilted her head, watching with interest as the redness on the brunette's face appeared in spots, forming funny shapes, as she stubbornly avoided looking into Ivy's eyes. Since her arrival at Hogwarts, the American had already got used to the fact that everyone needed something from her, and such a simple thing as an invitation to sit together at the Three Broomsticks, without the potential to crack their necks while running away from goblins, Ashwinders or poachers, seemed almost suspicious.

“Then you're buying," the blonde shrugged and, humming contentedly to herself, moved towards the noisy pub where her nose could finally get a chance to thaw.

As expected, there was nowhere to fall in the Three Broomsticks at such a time. Ivy nodded to Sirona, brushing snowflakes from her hair, and began to turn her head worriedly, trying to catch a glimpse of something that looked like an empty table. Poppy, almost a head shorter than herself, dove out of the crowd and confidently walked towards the hostess of the establishment, sliding along the visitors with a huge tray. After talking to her about something, Sweeting waved at her classmate, smiling conspiratorially, and headed deeper into the room, to a small table in the corner, which somehow turned out to be empty.

“That's lucky!” Brown was delighted and plopped down on a chair, rubbing and trying to warm her hands with hot breath. "It's strange that no one has taken it, though, the Gryffindors are standing over there, see?”

Poppy took a quick glance at where her friend was pointing and, without ceasing to smile mysteriously, landed next to her, looking around. Students, loudly discussing where they were going to spend the upcoming holidays, locals, complaining about the increased attacks by goblins, Gladwin Moon, who spotted them and, swaying, raised his glass in greeting. Ivy, unbeknownst to herself, began rocking back and forth in her chair, staring around, a habit for which her mother always scolded her. It was warm inside and she pulled off her scarf, handing it to the owner, noticing how in several places the joints of the stripes ended a little unevenly.

“It's a very beautiful scarf, Poppy!” She smiled at her classmate. "Did you knit it up yourself?"

Sweeting opened her eyes wide and immediately hid them in embarrassment, nodding. Brown rested her chin on her palm and stared at the brunette unceremoniously. The red spots on her cheeks gradually turned into a slight blush.

"You're really good at that. Everything's falling apart in my hands," Ivy chuckled and accepted a large mug with fluffy foam from Sirona's hands. "My mother used to say that I wouldn't make a great wife.”

"It can't be!"  Poppy looked up at her in disbelief. "You're so talented, how could your mom say that!"

The blonde chuckled and took a sip of the spiced drink, wiping her lips with her sleeve – another habit that Brown Sr. disapproved of. Perhaps because the girl took it over from her father. Ivy had never thought about this before, and now the realization made her stare thoughtfully at the small group of students sitting at the next table.

"I wasn't always talented, Poppy," she chuckled, still unconsciously boring her eyes into the back of some Slytherin’s head. "I was a squib before this summer.”

"I would never have believed it, not after what I saw in the Horntail Hall," Sweeting smiled softly, lowering her voice and moving a little closer. “And parents shouldn't say that to their children!”

Suddenly, she broke off in mid-sentence and pursed her lips. Ivy grunted in agreement and took another sip. The guy she was unconsciously glaring at shifted uncomfortably and began to turn his head.

“I don't blame her, she and her father just had slightly different views on how to raise a daughter,” Brown shook her curls, as if to ward off an obsession, and turned back to Poppy, remembering something. “Did you grow up with your grandmother?”

Sweeting almost immediately cringed and looked away, as if embarrassed.

"I moved in with her after I started Hogwarts," Poppy replied evasively, nervously tugging at the hem of her skirt. Her face darkened. “Parents… They are very busy with work, we don't see each other much.”

Ivy felt a pang of guilt for asking the question so thoughtlessly and causing Poppy to plunge into obviously unpleasant memories. Not knowing how to make amends, she put her hand on the small one of Sweeting, gently squeezing her fingers, as her father always did imperceptibly when he wanted to encourage her, while her mother scolded her for another very important little thing that her negligent daughter once again forgot to do. Sweeting seemed to shrink even more and looked up at her with surprised light brown eyes. Her small fingers hesitantly closed around the warm palm in response, the brunette broke into a smile and Ivy watched her, admiring. 

“You know, I like poppies," Brown said suddenly, making her classmate's cheeks look even more like a bright red flower. “Not far from the house where we lived, there was a whole poppy field, at the very foot of the mountain. As soon as it started to get warmer, I always rushed there headlong to see if there were any bright heads among the greenery – and then I knew that summer would come soon. I look at you and immediately remember them. You have a very pretty name.”

Poppy listened attentively, her eyes wide in surprise and embarrassment. Yes, of course, she was often compared to this flower, but usually, it was her parents or Gran. Now Ivy was smiling so tenderly, either at Sweeting or at her memories, that emotions were also blossoming inside the brunette, just as vivid as poppies. Her lips also stretched into a smile.

“Thank you, I... you know, Gran's house, it's so green, so lush!” Sweeting stammered, embarrassed, still awkwardly squeezing her friend's long fingers. “It's all covered with ivy, and Bowtruckles are living there! They are very shy, but once one showed itself to me and even jumped on the palm of my hand! And you know, Bowtruckles aren't usually found in ivy, but that's where they liked it, at Gran's, can you imagine?”

Poppy's eyes were glowing as she continued to talk about the habits of tiny creatures and incredible coincidences, and Brown kept carefully examining her enthusiastic face and listening to the voice, which became more and more excited as the story progressed. Sweeting's tone calmed her down, and she had almost closed her eyes to peacefully lean back and enjoy a rare moment of peace when a completely different voice unceremoniously interrupted the Hufflepuff.

“Well, just look at what an idyll!” drawled the guy, who somehow managed to loom over them, and behind his back, someone giggled nastily. “Poppy has finally found a girlfriend to match!”

Brown turned at the sound of the voice and stared into the cringing face. It was the very Slytherin she had been staring at thoughtlessly just now. There was something familiar about his expression, but Ivy couldn't remember where she'd seen him before. Another broad face of a girl with dark bangs, only in a robe with blue embroidery, looked out over his shoulder, vaguely resembling a toad. The blonde slowly unclenched her classmate's fingers and got up from the table, now unceremoniously examining the guy nose to nose. He made a faint grimace.

"Is there a problem?" she asked coldly, defiantly. 

The girl behind him made a face and mouthed her question, parodying. Ivy immediately remembered where she had seen them – at a Care for Magical Creatures class, when that Slytherin tried to pull out the whiskers of a kneazle, and Poppy rushed to her defense. The guy, holding her stare with a raised eyebrow, turned his gaze to Sweeting and snorted contemptuously.

"That was supposed to be my question, after all, you've been staring at me for five minutes now," he drawled. "There is no Howin here this time.”

Ivy furrowed her brows for a second, digesting his words, and laughed out loud, falling back into her chair. The guy was watching her uncomprehendingly.

"Did I say something funny?" He raised his voice hysterically.

"You can keep the threats for the freshmen, maybe they'll be scared of you," Brown waved him away and raised a glass of Butterbeer.

Poppy silently frowned at the Slytherin, her small hands slowly clenching into fists. Ivy gave her a quick reassuring look and turned away from the guy looming over them, pissing him off even more. He looked back at his faithful sidekick, jerked to the side, not knowing how to attract the blonde's attention, and with one sharp lunge forced her to spill a sweet sticky drink on herself. Brown didn't even have time to react, calmly watching as heavy drops dripped from the ends of her hair. Poppy jumped up and violently slammed her palms on the table.

"Donald, stop it! I know you're here to punish me for that time, don't you dare lay a finger on Ivy anymore!” Sweeting said firmly, without even raising her voice. 

The guy named Donald turned his eyes to her and roughly pushed her back, forcing her to sit back down.

“Shut up, Peculiar Poppy, I'm not talk..." he didn't have time to finish, because someone's fist flew right into his jaw, and the next second a shower of beer fell on his head, making him squeal.

Behind him, playing with her wand, stood Sirona, who had just caused one of the barrels resting nearby to flip over the Slytherin and drench him so that not a drop would spill past or touch other visitors. Ivy rubbed her knuckles. Ryan took a quick glance at the girls to make sure they were okay, and, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow, stared with interest at Donald, who stood in a quickly spreading, impressive puddle. The girl next to him held her nose in disgust – of course, Sirona would not sacrifice a fresh product.

"Cooled down?" the hostess asked, and, making the spreading puddle disappear with another wave of her wand, she headed back to the counter.

The Slytherin, realizing what had happened, wet, sticky, and shaking with anger, almost growled. Poppy, like everyone else in the bar, watching all this with her mouth open, didn't even have time to take a breath to say something when Ivy grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the exit. They ran without stopping until they were outside of Hogsmeade, their hearts pounding, their breath coming in short gasps, and the frosty air cutting into their lungs. The sky was already turning black, and lanterns were lighting up along the road. Flushed, they looked at each other and breathed heavily. Brown burst out laughing first and, throwing her arms out to the sides, fell into a small snowdrift, dragging Poppy with her. She screamed, landing awkwardly next to her, and laughed too. Ivy closed her eyes, listening. The ringing laughter ricocheted against the fresh, crisp snow crust.

"It looks like I've made myself another mortal enemy," the blonde muttered thoughtlessly after she stopped laughing. 

Poppy turned her head towards her and bit her lip.

"I'm sorry, I got you into trouble again," she replied softly, looking away.

The American sat down abruptly and turned her whole body towards her classmate.

“People like him never need a reason to get to someone," Sweeting heard, and felt Ivy take her hand again. "You had nothing to do with it. But it's great that Sirona was there. She's just the person who knows how to put people in their place.”

“Sirona is very kind! She always stands up for those who are weaker," Sweeting immediately replied. "Even when I asked her to save a table for the weekend, she…”

The brunette stopped, realizing that she had said too much, and stared in horror at Ivy, whose lips were slowly stretching into a smile. Poppy's heart was pounding faster and faster.

“I knew it wasn't a coincidence that we managed to get a table!” The American exclaimed. “It's a pity that this Donald ruined our plans for the evening. I had a great time. Still do.”

The Hufflepuff propped herself up on her elbows and cast a grateful glance at Brown, stopping it at a mane of blonde curls, between the strands of which a small feather was darkening. Hesitantly reaching out her hand, Poppy carefully took it out, examining, and froze, when her gaze shifted back. Ivy's bright green eyes roamed with excitement over her face, blushing cheeks and lips. As if to justify herself, Sweeting lifted the trophy in her palm, showing it to her friend.

"Well, it looks like it got tangled there when you…”  

A small black feather, caught by a cold gust of wind, rose higher and, trembling with fluffy edges, flew away into the darkness.

Poppy's eyes widened in surprise. The sweet taste of butterbeer with hints of warm cinnamon played on her lips and tongue again, and the curls tickled her neck.

Poppy Sweeting, desperate not to make a sound, was creeping down the spiral stone staircase to the Hufflepuff common room, looking around cautiously. It was well past the time of curfew and she had to be careful not to be seen by the Prefects or ghosts. Though if the Fat Friar, the resident ghost of her House, got in her way, she could easily find her way around the good-natured non-being. Especially if he heard why she had to leave the castle after the lights out — on a night so brightly lit by the moon, the chances of seeing a real mooncalves’ dance were greatly increased. Even though her "hunt" had not been fruitful, Sweeting was quite pleased that she had got a chance to walk through the October forest, breathing in the fresh, already quite cold air. The mooncalves showed themselves only briefly, and, flashing their huge eyes, disappeared from the clearing. 

Even at this hour, the castle refused to sleep — rustles and sounds were coming from everywhere: the muttering of talking portraits, the grunting of enchanted armor, and… the deafening clinking of pots in the kitchen. Poppy instantly rushed to the still-life frame and, with an impatient wave of her wand, froze at the entrance to the house elves' abode with a fluttering heart. The little workers were usually asleep in their barrel houses at night — perhaps the elf on duty had failed to handle a huge pot and turned the contents on themselves — Sweeting always felt sorry for the school helpers, and at any moment was ready to rush selflessly to their aid. The painted pear, having been tickled enough, at last, deigned to let the girl in. 

To her surprise, the elves were only sleepily rubbing their eyelids covering huge eyes, peering out of their ‘rooms’, and turning their heads in confusion — no sharp ears were sticking out under any of the exorbitantly large dishes. Taking a suspicious glance around the kitchen, the Hufflepuff made sure that no living creatures were in danger, and was about to leave, shrugging her shoulders, when in the semi-darkness of the dungeon she saw a barely perceptible ripple in space, the next second being unceremoniously grabbed by the elbow and dragged out of the kitchens.

“Aah!”

“Shh! Quiet, Poppy, it's me!” a hot whisper burned her ear and sent shivers down her spine. “Let's get out of here!”

Sweeting was so confused that she just let herself be dragged away and only looked up when, together with the mysterious intruder, they dived into the shadow of the staircase, at the base of which the stone "roots" were sprawling. A moment later, right before her eyes, a voluminous ripple turned into the face of her new classmate, an American, a bit odd and, as it seemed to the magical creatures lover, a little crazy Brown.

“Ivy!” Poppy exhaled, suddenly realizing their faces were very close — she could feel the girl's hot breath on her flushed cheeks again. “What happened, I heard loud noises!”

Pale straw-colored, unruly curls scattered across her classmate's face, her green eyes glinting mischievously as they reflected the fires of the braziers. Sweeting hid her gaze in embarrassment and took a step back, her eyes fixed on Brown's hands, desperately clutching several pies, which had quite obviously been in the kitchen until recently, to her heart. 

“I missed dinner, so I wanted to replenish my strength a little," Ivy's hungry eyes glittered again, her head jerking up sharply as she thought she saw a shadow flutter by the stairs. When she realized it was just the glow from the flames of the braziers, she exhaled and held out one of the pies to Poppy. “Want one?”

Sweeting followed the movement of her hand, looked up again at the wide-open green eyes, and laughed good-naturedly. 

“Ivy, you know you can just come into the kitchen anytime, the elves are always happy to feed the students!” Poppy said, watching her reaction with interest, forgetting that she had been afraid to breathe too loudly just a few minutes ago.

The punishment for her carelessness came almost immediately — someone, reacting to her too loud laughter, was hurrying down the stairs. Poppy fumbled, not knowing where to put herself, while her newly found companion, not embarrassed in the slightest, snatched up her wand and, with a meaningful glance at Sweeting, cast the Disillusionment Charm on herself again. Footsteps sounded very close by, and the hesitant Hufflepuff hadn't even had time to reach for her wand before Ivy grabbed her elbow again and pulled them both towards the baskets near the wall, into the darkest corner under the stairs, and pressed herself tightly against Poppy, casting the spell on her as well. Sweeting held her breath, heart pounding madly, as she tried to raise her eyes to the person coming down — if it was a teacher, no good was coming for them. The kitchen may not have been the Restricted Section, but loitering outside the dorm after lights out was still not part of the unspoken school rules. Brown smelled of moss and leaves, and faintly of cinnamon. Her uncontrollable curls tickled Sweeting's cheek and neck, and her body was hot, causing Poppy to press herself harder against the cold masonry wall. Footsteps echoed in the stone above them, and then, lighting his way with the wand,  down the stairs came the Hufflepuff Prefect, a sixth-year whom even the freshmen weren't particularly afraid of, and walked further, towards their common room. There was a distinctive tapping on the wooden surface and the sound of boards parting as he entered the dormitory. Ivy, still pressed tightly against her classmate, exhaled noisily and pulled back, lifting the spell and smiling contentedly.

“All clear, Poppy, you can come out now!” she announced cheerfully, scrutinizing the pies for damage. When none was found, Brown, visibly relieved, dusted one off and stuffed it in her mouth, holding the other out to the classmate again. “Sho, do you wanch one?”

Sweeting wanted to refuse, but her stomach rumbled treacherously at the smell of freshly baked goods. She took a small bite of the treat and thanked Ivy crudely, glancing anxiously towards the corridor where the Prefect had gone.

“Do you think he's still in the common room?” After chewing the dough, she asked in a whisper.

“Could be," Brown, who had already destroyed all the edible evidence of her late-night raid on the kitchen, shrugged. “Do you think we should wait?”

“Just to be on the safe side," Poppy smiled awkwardly, crumpling the unfortunate bakery product with her fingers. For some reason, she felt uncomfortable chewing in front of Ivy. “Shall we wait here?”

The new fifth-year was still inexplicably confusing her. Ever since the first day when she walked into the Great Hall with Professor Fig, panting and flushed, eyes wide with interest, Sweeting had heard classmates whispering about her, each time coming up with new and more improbable theories. The next morning Poppy had rushed off early to check on Highwing, so she didn't even get a chance to introduce herself to the new girl, who was also sorted into her House. For a long time, Sweeting glanced at her, trying to think of an excuse to approach and talk, but each time she only felt more awkward, as if she were trying to impose herself. 

Ivy Brown had been the talk of the school, and for a long time the students had been whispering about the dragon attack on her and the professor, the troll in Hogsmeade, the fact that the new girl had Fig's unconditional protection, that she and Sallow were having an affair, and the American was actually an exchange student from Ilvermorny, and many, many other rumors that made Sweeting even more embarrassed to have a conversation with the blonde. She spoke with the same accent as many of her parents' “business associates” she'd heard as a child – poaching was booming in America even on a larger scale than in her native Britain, and many a dapper cowboy had had a hand in shipping thousands of innocent creatures across the ocean. 

But Brown was unlike any of them. At their very first conversation in the class on the Care of Magical Creatures, she stood up for Persephone with such belligerence that Poppy, elated by their acquaintance and the fact that the new girl liked beasts as much as she did, had gone so far as to introduce her to Highwing. Ivy laughed ringingly and loudly, scaring away all the birds in the forest, but it was as if the magical creatures had a special affection for her and accepted her easily – the shy Hufflepuff could only envy her. 

There seemed to be an air of mystery around the new girl, something about her that was inexplicably intriguing and mesmerising, and so, Sweeting often caught herself staring at her curly head in the corridors and class. 

“Why don't we go outside?” Ivy suggested, interrupting her train of thought. “It's such a bright moonlit night, and I know just the place with the best view of Black Lake!”

Poppy stared at the pie in her hand again, embarrassed. The whisper of a fellow student sounded so light and easy, no wonder she could make new friends in such a short time. The prospect of going out at night in Brown's company seemed like an amazing adventure, and the mere thought of it made her tiredness go away. Before she could even open her mouth to agree, Ivy suddenly ran her thumb across Poppy’s cheek, at the corner of her lips, causing the Hufflepuff to stiffen in surprise.

“You have crumbs near your mouth,” the blonde explained nonchalantly while heading for the stairs. “Don't worry, it’ll be a piece of cake, a quick one in and out!”

Sweeting nodded, embarrassed, and followed her, trying to calm her pounding heart and still clutching the unfortunate pie.

***

“Do you know about the meadow with the mooncalves?”  Poppy's brown eyes widened in surprise, as she was subtly admiring the way the cold moonlight illuminated her classmate’s fluffy curls. 

“Yes, I've been there," Ivy replied, her eyes twinkling with satisfaction, and she stared into the distance again, at the impenetrable surface of the Black Lake. 

Brown led them to the viaduct bridge, and with a sly smile, she began to descend to the base of the structure, sitting comfortably on the wooden beams and leaning her back against them. Sweeting looked at the flimsy–looking bridge and was horrified, but looking at how easily and spontaneously the new girl climbed it – probably not for the first time - she pulled herself together, and, carefully stepping on the protruding stones, sat down next to her, clinging to the column. The view from here was truly amazing.

They sat and chatted as if they had known each other for many years, and Poppy was surprised at herself. She peppered Brown with questions, and Ivy answered willingly, sometimes laughing out loud and making Sweeting's heart drop, forgetting that her feet were hanging over a huge waterfall, under the raging gusts of which, most likely, there were sharp rocks. The blonde said that she had lived with her parents in Colorado until she was fourteen, and when they got divorced, she went to her mother’s homeland, Ireland, where Professor Fig found her. 

"You're so good at Disillusionment spells, did Professor Fig teach you that?" 

"No, Sebastian," Ivy replied thoughtfully, her face instantly changing. – Useful stuff.

For some reason, hearing a classmate say Sallow's name made Poppy's stomach clench. Instantly, she remembered the rumors, richly seasoned with all sorts of indecent details. But rumors don't start because of nothing, do they? Maybe she should just ask – Brown didn't seem to mind talking about herself at all.

“You and Sebastian are very close, aren't you?” Hufflepuff asked cautiously, stealing a glance at the blonde's expression.

“What do you mean, close?” Ivy turned her head so quickly to the girl, looking straight into her eyes disarmingly, that Poppy almost fell off the beam and blushed. "We're just friends."

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to …embarrass you," she said, stuttering, but it was Sweeting herself who was embarrassed, and she was very bad at hiding it. “You just spend so much time together, and you are very beautiful… I mean, I wanted to say…”

Brown, with interest and even some pleasure, watched her classmate turn scarlet and suffocate, not knowing how to block out the phrase she said, and dragging herself into a dead-end even more. Ivy smiled broadly.

“Thanks, Poppy," the blonde finally replied, saving the poppy–red girl from an awkward pause. "It's okay that you asked. But Sebastian is not my type.”

Sweeting, despite the biting gusts of wind, felt the heat drain from her face and radiate with a pleasant warmth throughout her body. After sitting for a couple more minutes, the girls decided it was time to return. Sneaking back without incident, they went into the common living room together and were about to leave for their respective rooms when the blonde tossed her head again, making her curls bounce to the beat, and called out to her classmate.

"You're very beautiful too, Poppy!" A loud whisper carried up to the stained glass ceiling, through which the fragmented moonlight fell on the living room. Sweeting felt the warmth spreading through her body for the umpteenth time that night. “Good night!”

"Good night, Ivy!" She muttered a barely audible reply and disappeared through the round door. 

That night she dreamed of a house covered with thick green ivy.

***

In the early days of late October, Poppy woke up in an incredible mood, got ready for classes much more carefully than usual, and melted into a huge smile whenever she saw Brown and caught her eye.  Lenora Everleigh, Poppy's overly straightforward roommate, noticed as if a couple of times the magical creature lover was looking for someone in the crowd longingly and was quick to make a sharp joke that Sweeting seemed to have finally fallen in love with someone who does not have a tail. Poppy blushed deeply but laughed it off, and for a long time, she pondered over the words of her classmate. Lenora almost immediately rushed off to share her thoughts with Adelaide, but Poppy didn't care about the rumors. In five years, she had earned a reputation as someone only interested in animals and magical creatures, and the Hufflepuff was quite satisfied with it. 

One early November morning, when the fallen leaves were already covered with light patterns of frost, Sweeting was all in her thoughts going to check on Highwing. She hadn't visited her in several days and berated herself for not paying attention – lately she'd been thinking much less about magical creatures than about the pale straw-colored shock of curly hair flashing here and there. Lenora's words haunted her every thought like a looming ghost. Has she fallen in love? Poppy had never thought about the fact that she liked someone more than a friend. The girls from her House were discussing boys constantly and often used cards for the fortune-telling right in their common room, laughing loudly and interpreting the signs the way they would like. Sweeting joined them several times, but she would only get Queens, and the classmates sighed in disappointment. Is it possible to fall in love with a girl?

Lost in her thoughts, Poppy stopped in her tracks. A crafty squint of green eyes surfaced in his mind. Falling in love or not, the Hufflepuff couldn't deny that the new American girl aroused in her completely unfriendly feelings and thoughts. Since childhood, Sweeting has learned to ask herself questions and answer them honestly. That's why she ran away from her parents with Highwing back then. That was why she was willing to admit that she cared about Ivy.

Remembering why she was getting outside the castle, Poppy picked up her pace and exhaled a cloud of steam, wrapping herself more tightly in a wide yellow scarf. The sky was just turning into lighter shades – classes would start very soon. Rushing to her usual location, Poppy whistled loudly, expecting to hear the flapping of huge wings. But three minutes, five minutes passed, and there was still no familiar piercing scream. Maybe Highwing was offended that her stupid savior hadn't appeared for several days? Sweeting put her fingers to her lips over and over, but the hippogriff was nowhere to be found. A cold dawn was already breaking on the horizon behind the castle–it was time to return to class. The Hufflepuff scolded herself. She was so caught up in stupid thoughts that she couldn't keep an eye on her old friend. Like the rays of the transparent sun emerging from behind the dense edge of the forest and the sharp peaks of the mountains, an inexplicable anxiety arose inside.

Something happened to Highwing.

For several days, Poppy couldn't find a place for herself, having already explored all the surroundings of the castle and even the Forbidden Forest. She stumbled upon the dens of other hippogriffs, and, not finding Highwing in any of them, assumed the worst. The poachers had finally caught her. Sweeting remembered her parents and her mind went into an unpleasant spasm. As much as she wanted nothing to do with them, Poppy just couldn't erase them from her memory. 

But perhaps it was precisely because she was too well aware of what poachers were capable of, the Hufflepuff was not going to sit in the castle while her dear creature was being tortured for a pair of feathers. Sweeting was just about to get out of the castle when Natty rushed past her, out of breath, braked sharply at the sight of her, and began to explain haltingly what had just happened.

"Where's Highwing?"  Poppy immediately asked, grabbing Onai by the sleeve of her robe, after learning something about poachers, the hippogriff, and Brown's involvement in all this. "Is she safe?"

“Ivy said she knows a safe place where poachers will never get to her," the Gryffindor reassured her, regaining her breath, and muttering something about Harlow and Officer Singer, she sped off in an unknown direction.

Sweeting watched her go and leaned against a cold pillar. Her heart was pounding, even though everything was fine. If Highwing was really with Ivy, then it was absolutely necessary to find Brown and ask her about everything. Poppy took off and raced into their shared common room, ready to bang on the round door of her bedroom, but stopped herself. Judging by Natty's appearance, they had to go through a lot – for sure, if Ivy had already returned, she just collapsed on the bed. Forcing herself to step back, Sweeting ran her palm over her flushed face. She took another look at the idle door, sighed, and was about to go to her room when she heard a familiar wooden knock – someone had entered Hufflepuff's common room. Brown's blonde head appeared below, almost merging with the yellow carpet, she wearily trudged through the rounded hall, slowly shifting her legs. Poppy immediately rushed over to her, anxiously peering into her face.

"Merlin, Ivy, are you okay? I saw Natty, she said that you saved Highwing from the poachers!” green misty eyes found the source of the noise and the American smiled tiredly.

“Don't worry, Poppy, the poachers can't get to her now," she replied mysteriously and, glancing at the girl's flushed face, suddenly stretched out her palm to her face, thoughtfully tucking Sweeting's stray dark curl behind her ear, completely taking her breath away. "I promise."

Brown's fingertips touched the reddened ear of a classmate for a few seconds and, muttering something about stupid stairs, she continued to climb to her room, leaving the girl dumbfounded in the middle of the empty common room.

The door closed softly behind the new girl with a soft thud. 

Poppy Sweeting had long learned not to lie to herself.