Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
✐ᝰ word count: 11.7k
✐ᝰ genre: harry potter au, hufflepuff! shotaro, dark academia, fantasy, mythic fantasy, magical war, prophecy, found family, psychological, coming-of-age, adventure, emotional angst
✐ᝰ warnings: graphic violence, magical combat, blood and severe injury, psychological distress, manipulation, prophecy themes, emotional pressure, identity struggles, feelings of inadequacy, fear of failure, war themes, near-death experiences, strong language
✐ᝰ author’s note: hey pookies, welcome to the beginning of a new saga <3 i love love love the harry potter universe and HAD to do a spinoff with riize with this world i've been cooking up. unfortunately, i don't think there is going to be as much romance in this saga, there might be slight hints of it but i hope you guys enjoy this nonetheless. thank you for reading <3
No one knew where the voice came from. No spell had been cast. No wand had been raised. No owl carried a message.
It simply appeared.
Across every corner of the wizarding world, at the exact same moment, every witch and wizard heard the same voice echo inside their minds.
It did not belong to a person. It did not belong to a ghost. It sounded older than magic itself. And it spoke their names.
When the world forgets the war that scarred its skies, when peace is built upon the ashes of the fallen, six shall rise where none expected them.
Osaki Shotaro. Jung Sungchan. Song Eunseok. Park Wonbin. Lee Sohee. Anton Lee.
Six souls bound by magic unseen,six flames hidden beneath one shadow.
The crown shall tremble.The throne shall break.And the one who stands above all magic…
shall fall by the hands of those he sought to guide.
The voice vanished.
But the names remained.
For the first time in decades, the wizarding world was united by fear. The Daily Prophet released its first edition within hours. Not with a report. With a declaration.
THE DAILY PROPHET
BREAKING NEWS: SIX YOUNG WIZARDS NAMED IN ANCIENT PROPHECY
An unidentified magical force has revealed the names of six young wizards believed to be connected to a newly discovered prophecy predicting the downfall of the most powerful wizard alive.
The Ministry of Magic has refused to comment on whether the prophecy represents a threat or a warning.
However, one name continues to dominate public discussion.
Albus Dumbledore.
The wizarding world had always known Dumbledore was powerful. He had ended wars. Defeated dark wizards. Protected Hogwarts through some of the darkest periods in magical history. To many, he was not simply a wizard. He was the reason the world was still standing. And now, for the first time— the world wondered: Who would stand after him?
Instead, he did what everyone expected him to do. He offered protection. Within twenty-four hours, Hogwarts released an official statement.
A STATEMENT FROM HOGWARTS HEADMASTER ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
“In times of uncertainty, fear often grows faster than understanding.”
“The six young wizards named in the recent prophecy are not threats. They are students.”
“They deserve the opportunity to learn, to grow, and to discover their own paths without being burdened by the expectations of others.”
“Hogwarts has always been a place of safety, knowledge, and acceptance. Therefore, I have personally invited Shotaro, Sungchan, Eunseok, Wonbin, Sohee, and Anton to complete their magical education at Hogwarts under the care of our professors and staff.”
“Their wellbeing will be our highest priority.”
“No child should have to carry the weight of a prophecy alone.”
The Daily Prophet’s front page interview came the following morning. Dumbledore sat calmly in his office, surrounded by books, enchanted portraits, and centuries of magical history. The perfect image of wisdom.
The interviewer asked:
“Many are calling these six boys the greatest magical threat since the last war. What would you say to those who fear them?”
Dumbledore smiled gently.
“Fear often comes from what we do not understand.”
“These boys are not weapons. They are not symbols. They are young wizards who have suddenly found themselves at the centre of something much larger than themselves.”
“My responsibility is not to judge them based on a prophecy.”
“My responsibility is to guide them.”
The interviewer paused. “Some have questioned whether bringing all six boys to Hogwarts is safe.”
Dumbledore’s expression remained unchanged. “Hogwarts has protected generations of witches and wizards. There is nowhere safer in the world.”
A perfect answer. A reassuring answer. The answer everyone wanted to hear.
But when the interview ended, and the doors of his office closed— Dumbledore looked down at the six names written on parchment.
Shotaro.
Sungchan.
Eunseok.
Wonbin.
Sohee.
Anton.
Six possibilities. Six unknowns. Six futures he could not see.
When the six boys arrived at Hogwarts, the castle had never been louder. Students lined the corridors. Whispers followed them everywhere. Some looked at them with admiration. Some with fear. Some with suspicion.
They were no longer ordinary students. They were the six names from the prophecy.
The Great Hall had never felt so large.
At least, that was what Shotaro thought as he sat beneath the enchanted ceiling, surrounded by hundreds of voices that were pretending not to be about him.
Pretending was the funniest part. Because everyone knew. Every whisper. Every glance. Every hurried conversation that stopped the moment one of the six boys looked up.
Is that him?
Which one?
Does it even matter? They’re all part of the prophecy.
Dumbledore must know something we don’t.
Or maybe he’s made the biggest mistake of his life.
Shotaro kept his eyes on the long wooden table in front of him. The feast laid before them looked incredible. Plates overflowing with food, goblets filled with drinks, candles floating overhead as if magic itself had decided to welcome them.
But none of them had touched much. How could they? It was difficult to eat when half the school was watching you like you might suddenly reveal yourself as the downfall of the wizarding world.
Some students were kinder. A few offered hesitant smiles. Some whispered words of encouragement when they passed. But others were less subtle.
“Dumbledore brought them here?”
“All six of them?”
“Does he actually expect us to believe this is safe?”
“They're probably dangerous.”
Shotaro heard every word. Years of being raised in one of the oldest pureblood families in the wizarding world had taught him how to maintain composure.
The Osaki family had always been admired. Respected. Sometimes feared. For generations, their name had been connected to Quidditch greatness. Their family line had produced some of the most celebrated players in magical history, with trophies and records decorating their family halls.
A proud legacy. A powerful one. But sitting here, under the weight of hundreds of judging eyes, his family name felt less like an honour. And more like another reason people expected something from him.
Across the hall, Professor McGonagall continued explaining the Sorting Ceremony to the nervous first years. “The Sorting Hat will decide which house best suits you during your time at Hogwarts...”
Shotaro listened quietly. He had heard about the ceremony before. Everyone had.
Gryffindor. Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff. Slytherin. Four houses. Four identities. A place where students belonged. And yet, somehow, the six of them had arrived already carrying a label no house could erase.
The prophecy.
The boy beside him shifted uncomfortably, the one who had barely spoken since arriving.
Shotaro glanced around the table.
Six strangers. Six people who, whether they wanted it or not, were now connected. Maybe that was the strangest thing about the prophecy. It had introduced them to the world before they had even introduced themselves.
Shotaro exhaled softly, then cleared his throat. “Well,” he said. The others looked toward him. “If we're going to spend the year with everyone staring at us, we should probably at least know each other's names.”
A small silence followed. Then Shotaro smiled. “I'm Osaki Shotaro.”
Everyone already knew. They probably knew more about him than he knew about them. Still, he continued. “I'm a pureblood. Not that it matters.” There was no arrogance in his voice. Just fact. “My family's been in the wizarding world for a long time.”
The guy opposite immediately nodded. “The Osaki family?”
Shotaro looked surprised. “You know us?”
“Of course, my family follows Quidditch like it’s a religion.”
A little of the tension disappeared.
“I've heard about your family's players since I was little. Your grandfather was a Seeker, wasn't he?”
Shotaro smiled slightly. “He was.”
“Thought so.” Sohee leaned back. “My name's Sohee. I'm also a pureblood.” Then he added with a grin: “And before you ask, yes, I have been told I talk too much.”
For the first time that evening, someone laughed. It wasn't loud. But it was enough. The atmosphere loosened slightly. “I'm Sungchan.”
The boy beside Shotaro finally spoke. “I'm a halfblood.” His voice was calm, but there was hesitation hidden beneath it. “My mum's a witch. My dad is a Muggle.”
Nobody reacted. Nobody moved away. Nobody whispered.
Shotaro simply nodded. “Nice to meet you, Sungchan.”
The relief on Sungchan's face was subtle but Shotaro noticed anyways. Then came Anton. He looked down at his hands. “I'm Anton.”
His voice was quieter. “I'm...” He hesitated. “I'm Muggle-born.”
Before the silence could become uncomfortable, someone beside him reached over and lightly slapped his shoulder.
“Same.”
Anton looked up. The redhead smiled. “I'm Wonbin.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “Also Muggle-born.”
Anton blinked.
“You are?”
“Yeah.”
Wonbin shrugged. “Turns out being born without magic in your family doesn't stop you from having magic.”
Something about the simplicity of the statement made Anton relax.
“Right.”
“Exactly.”
Finally, Shotaro looked toward the last boy who had spent most of the evening observing everything. The room. The professors. The students. The exits. Almost like he was memorising the entire castle. “You haven't introduced yourself.”
Eunseok looked at him. For a moment, he seemed like he might refuse. Then Shotaro nudged his shoulder. “Come on.”
A small sigh.
“Eunseok.”
That was all. Shotaro raised an eyebrow. “Eunseok?”
Another pause. “I'm a Halfblood...?”
And just like that, the six names had finally become six people. Before anyone could say anything else, the Great Hall erupted into applause. Another first year stepped forward. The Sorting Hat was lowered onto his head.
Shotaro had spent his entire life being watched. He knew how to walk into a room full of strangers and pretend he did not notice their eyes following him. He knew how to smile when people whispered about his family. He knew how to hold his head high when people expected greatness before he had even done anything to deserve it.
The Osaki name carried weight. It always had. But for some reason, Hogwarts was different. Because this time, they were not looking at him because of his family. They were looking at him because of a prophecy.
Shotaro sat at the long wooden table, his fingers resting calmly against his lap as Professor McGonagall continued calling names.
Every first year stepped forward with nervous smiles and shaking hands. Each time the Sorting Hat shouted a house, cheers erupted from the tables. Gryffindor welcomed their new lions. Ravenclaw celebrated their new minds. Hufflepuff greeted their new friends. Slytherin applauded their newest members.
But the closer McGonagall got to the six names everyone had been waiting for... the quieter the Great Hall became.
Shotaro noticed it immediately. The cheers faded. The whispers grew louder. He glanced beside him. Sungchan looked uncomfortable. Anton looked like he wanted to disappear. Wonbin was pretending not to care. Sohee had stopped smiling. Eunseok, however, looked exactly as he had all night.
Observing. Calculating. Shotaro understood. He had grown up in the spotlight.He knew how cruel it could be. But the others? They had not asked for this. None of them had asked to become names spoken by every witch and wizard in the world. A part of him wanted to say something. To reassure them. But before he could—
“Jung Sungchan.”
The hall fell silent. Sungchan stood. For a moment, he looked back at them. Just six strangers.
A strange sort of comfort. Then he walked forward. The Sorting Hat touched his head. A few seconds passed.
Then: “RAVENCLAW!”
The Ravenclaw table erupted into polite applause. Not loud. Not completely enthusiastic.
But enough. Sungchan smiled slightly as he walked toward his new house. One down. Five to go.
“Eunseok.”
He stood without hesitation. Unlike Sungchan, he did not look nervous. He simply walked to the stool and sat. The Hat barely touched his head before shouting: “SLYTHERIN!”
Eunseok joined the Slytherin table, but Shotaro noticed he immediately looked back toward them. Still connected.
“Wonbin.”
Another silence. The Hat considered him. Longer this time. Then: “SLYTHERIN!”
Wonbin walked away calmly, but Shotaro noticed the smallest smile when Eunseok moved aside to make room.
“Sohee.”
Shotaro watched him straighten his robes. Even now, Sohee looked like he was trying to make the situation less terrifying for everyone else. The Hat barely rested on his head. “HUFFLEPUFF!”
Sohee grinned as he joined them.
“Anton.”
The final name before his own. Anton froze. Just for a second. Then Wonbin gave him an encouraging look. Go. Anton walked forward.
The Sorting Hat took longer. Much longer. Then: “GRYFFINDOR!”
Anton looked surprised. Happy. Relieved. Shotaro smiled.
Five of them. Five houses. Five different paths.
“Osaki Shotaro.”
The smile disappeared. The Great Hall went silent. Not quiet. Silent. Every single person was watching. Shotaro stood. He could feel it. The expectation. The curiosity. The fear. And when he looked toward the staff table, he saw him.
Professor Dumbledore.
Watching. Not with fear. Not with suspicion. With interest. Like he was waiting for an answer.
Shotaro sat on the stool. The Sorting Hat lowered over his eyes. Darkness surrounded him.
Then a voice spoke.
“Well...”
The Hat sounded amused. “Now this is interesting.”
Shotaro remained still.
“Osaki.”
A pause.
“A name with history.”
“Generations of ambition. Generations of achievement.”
“A family that has always reached for greatness.”
The Hat hummed. “You have courage.”
“Discipline.”
“Loyalty.”
“A desire to protect those around you.”
A pause.
“Interesting...”
The voice became quieter.
“Very interesting.”
Shotaro frowned. “What?”
The Hat did not answer. Instead, it whispered: “There is something else.”
The air changed. The candles above flickered. The Great Hall grew colder. “Something I cannot place.”
The Hat's voice trembled. “Something that should not be here.”
Suddenly— pain. A sharp, unnatural sound echoed through the hall. The Hat screamed. Not spoke. Screamed. A burst of golden sparks exploded from beneath the fabric. Students jumped back.
Professors stood immediately. Smoke began rising from the Hat.
“Stop!” Professor McGonagall rushed forward.
But the Hat continued. “NO—”
The entire Great Hall froze.
“NOT SLYTHERIN.”
The Hat shook violently. “NOT GRYFFINDOR.”
More sparks. “NOT RAVENCLAW.”
The smoke grew thicker. Shotaro gripped the edge of the stool. He wasn't afraid. He was confused. Why was the Hat afraid of him?
Then, with one final cry— the Hat shouted:
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
Silence. Complete silence. Then McGonagall immediately ripped the Hat from his head. “Are you hurt?”
Shotaro blinked. “No.”
She looked him over. No burns. No cuts. Not even a mark. But the Great Hall had already changed.
The shock lasted only seconds. Then fear took over.
“What was that?”
“That wasn't normal!”
“Dumbledore shouldn't have brought them here!”
“They're dangerous!”
“The prophecy—”
“Get them out!”
The whispers became shouting. The shouting became chaos. For the first time that night, the six boys were not just being watched. They were being feared. Shotaro looked toward the others. Sungchan had gone pale. Anton looked terrified. Even Eunseok looked unsettled.
“ENOUGH.”
The entire hall shook. Dumbledore had stood. His voice was not loud. It did not need to be. Every candle flickered. Every voice died. The most powerful wizard in the world looked across the room.
Calm. Controlled. Absolute.
“These students are under the protection of Hogwarts.”
Nobody spoke.
“Fear does not make you wise.” His gaze moved briefly toward the six boys. “Nor does suspicion make you correct.”
A pause. Then, gently: “Boys.”
“Please follow me.”
The Great Hall watched as the six boys rose. And as Shotaro walked behind Dumbledore toward the Headmaster's office, he could not shake the feeling that everyone believed they had just witnessed something dangerous. But he wondered something else. Why did it feel like... the Sorting Hat had been afraid for him?
The walk to the Headmaster’s office was quieter than Shotaro expected. The Great Hall’s whispers had followed them all the way out. Even after the doors closed behind them, he could still feel the weight of everyone’s eyes.
The prophecy. The Sorting Hat. The fear. But standing in front of the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster’s office, Shotaro found himself forgetting everything else.
Because this was Hogwarts. And this was him. The Albus Dumbledore.
The wizard whose name had been written in history books. The wizard who had ended wars. The wizard whose decisions had shaped the magical world for generations. Shotaro had grown up hearing stories about him. His family spoke of Dumbledore with respect. Not because of his power alone. But because of his wisdom. His ability to see beyond the present. To protect the future.
And now he was standing only a few feet away.
“Come in.”
The office doors opened. Shotaro stepped inside. His eyes immediately travelled across the room. Ancient books lined every shelf. Strange magical objects moved quietly around the room. Portraits of former headmasters watched from their frames. Everything about the office felt exactly like he imagined. Powerful. Ancient. Important.
Dumbledore stood behind his desk, smiling warmly.
“Please,” he said. “Sit.”
The six boys settled into the chairs arranged before him. For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, they were away from the crowd. Away from the whispers. Just them. And the most powerful wizard in the world.
Shotaro sat straight-backed. He was aware of every movement he made. Every word. Every breath. After a moment of silence, he spoke. “Professor Dumbledore.”
The Headmaster looked at him.
“I apologise.” The others glanced at him. Shotaro continued. “I understand the situation tonight was... unexpected.”
His fingers tightened slightly. “I don’t know what happened with the sorting hat, the commotion in the Great Hall...” He lowered his head. “I did not intend to cause trouble for Hogwarts.”
There was genuine sincerity in his voice. “I am incredibly honoured to be here. My family has respected this school for generations, and I would never wish to bring shame to it.”
For a brief moment, Dumbledore simply looked at him. Then he smiled. Not the smile of a headmaster. The smile of someone reassuring a frightened child.
“Mr Osaki.”
Shotaro looked up.
“Please do not apologise for something beyond your control.” His voice was gentle. “You have carried enough responsibility today.”
Those words caught Shotaro slightly off guard. Dumbledore continued. “All six of you have.”
His gaze moved across the room. “I cannot imagine what it must feel like to wake up one morning and discover that the entire wizarding world knows your name.”
Sungchan looked down. Anton shifted uncomfortably. And Dumbledore noticed. “And worse still, to know that many people have already decided who they believe you are before they have met you.”
The room fell quiet. Shotaro listened carefully. Because Dumbledore understood. He understood the burden. “The prophecy does not define you,” Dumbledore said. “Your choices do.”
It was exactly what Shotaro needed to hear.
“You are students first.”
A pause.
“Not symbols. Not weapons. Not answers to a question the world is desperate to solve.”
Dumbledore smiled. “And I hope Hogwarts will allow you to experience what every other student experiences.”
“Friendships. Lessons. Quidditch. Memories. Perhaps even a little trouble.”
A small laugh escaped Sohee. The tension eased. For the first time since the prophecy, they felt like students again. Then Dumbledore’s attention returned to Shotaro.
“But there is one matter we should discuss.”
Shotaro straightened. “Of course.”
Dumbledore folded his hands. “You are completing your final year of magical education, correct?”
“Yes, Professor.”
“Your N.E.W.Ts.”
Shotaro nodded. The pressure returned instantly. His family expected excellence. The Osaki name was built on achievement.
“I understand this year will be demanding under ordinary circumstances,” Dumbledore said. “And I imagine the recent events have only added unnecessary stress.”
Shotaro remained silent. Because it was true. Dumbledore leaned forward slightly. "Which is why I would like to offer my assistance."
Shotaro blinked. “Your assistance?"
“Yes.”
The Headmaster smiled. “Although I am Headmaster, I am still a professor.”
A pause.
“And if you require guidance, I would be happy to provide private lessons.”
Shotaro stared. Private lessons. With Dumbledore. The greatest wizard alive. “I would not want to impose—”
“You would not be imposing.” Dumbledore interrupted gently. “If anything, I believe it would be beneficial.”
His eyes remained on Shotaro. “Your circumstances are unique, Mr Osaki.” A careful choice of words. “You have a great deal expected of you.”
The prophecy. The family name. The future.
“Having someone to help you navigate these challenges may provide some reassurance.”
Shotaro felt something settle in his chest.
Relief.
Because this was exactly what he wanted. Someone who understood magic at the highest level. Someone who could guide him. Someone who could help him prove that the Osaki name belonged among greatness.
“Thank you, Professor.” He bowed his head. “I would be honoured.”
For a moment, the office was silent. Then Dumbledore looked toward the other five boys. “And of course, this offer extends to all of you should you require additional support.”
The Quidditch pitch felt like home.
Shotaro hadn’t realised how much he needed it until the moment his feet left the ground. The wind rushed past him, sharp and clean, cutting through the weight that had been sitting on his chest since the prophecy.
Up here, there were no whispers. No stares. No expectations pressing down on him from every direction. Just movement. Just instinct. Just flight.
For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, he could breathe. Below him, the seventh-year class gathered, brooms in hand as Madam Hooch organised the teams. “Captains will take turns selecting players.”
Shotaro hovered slightly above the others, relaxed, confident. This part was familiar. This part had always been easy. Back home, he was never picked. He was chosen. First. Always.
The Osaki name carried weight in Quidditch circles. Generations of Seekers, Chasers, players who had built their legacy in the air rather than on the ground. He had trained his entire life for this. So when the first name was called… it wasn’t his.
Shotaro blinked. The second pick came. Still not him. A third. A fourth. A fifth. He felt it then. Not confusion. Not yet. Something quieter. A slow, creeping realisation.
They were avoiding him.
Below, he could hear it.
“Isn’t he supposed to be good?”
“That’s what they say.”
“Yeah, well… look at him.”
“After what happened with the Sorting Hat? I wouldn’t risk it.”
Shotaro’s grip tightened slightly on his broom. So that was it. It wasn’t about skill.
It was about fear.
“Pick him.” The voice cut through the murmuring.
Clear. Firm.
Shotaro glanced down. A girl stood near the goalposts, broom resting against her shoulder. Hufflepuff robes. Confident stance. Eyes locked on the captains. “He’s an Osaki.”
She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. If you don’t pick him, you’re throwing the game before it starts.”
One of the captains scoffed. “We’re picking players we trust.”
Her expression didn’t change. “You mean players you’re not scared of.”
A few students shifted uncomfortably. The captain ignored her. “Next pick—”
Shotaro’s name still wasn’t called. Not until the very end.
Last. The word landed heavier than anything anyone had said that morning. Shotaro descended slowly. He didn’t react. Didn’t show it. But the quiet sting sat deep. For the first time in his life, he had been overlooked.
The match began. At first, Shotaro held back. Not because he lacked confidence. But because he was watching. Observing. His teammates barely passed to him. Every move he made was second-guessed. Every opening he created was ignored.
Fine.
If they weren’t going to use him— he would make it impossible not to.
The Quaffle flew loose. Shotaro moved. Fast.
He cut through the air with precision, intercepting it mid-flight before another player could react. A turn. A feint. Two opponents missed him entirely. The world narrowed. Just the hoops ahead. Just the rhythm of his breathing. Just instinct.
And then—
Her.
The Keeper. The same girl from before. She hovered in front of the goalposts, completely still. Watching him. Not with fear. Not with doubt. With focus. Like she had been waiting for this.
Good.
Shotaro smirked slightly. Finally. A challenge. He moved first.
A sharp dive to the left and yet she didn’t move.
He adjusted mid-air, pulling the Quaffle back— Still nothing.
Her eyes tracked him perfectly. Not guessing. Reading. So that was how she played.
Not reactive. Predictive. Shotaro exhaled. Then changed his rhythm entirely.
A sudden burst of speed. A fake shot high— She shifted— Just slightly. Enough.
Shotaro dropped low at the last second and launched the Quaffle toward the bottom hoop.
Fast. Precise. Unstoppable— A blur of movement.
She blocked it. The impact echoed. The Quaffle ricocheted back into the air.
Shotaro froze for half a second. Then laughed. Not out loud. But something in him lit up.
Again.
He wanted to try again.
The rest of the match blurred. Shotaro moved like he always had. Effortless. Controlled. Sharp.
He scored. Again. And again. And again.
By the time the whistle blew, the score was so uneven it was almost embarrassing.
His team had won. Decisively. But when he landed, the reactions weren’t what he expected.
“Well, yeah, he should be good.”
“It’s his family.”
“Still weird, though.”
“Did you see what happened with the Hat?”
“It doesn’t feel normal.”
The victory felt… muted. Like it didn’t belong to him. Shotaro exhaled slowly, stepping off his broom.
“That was good.”
He looked up.
She was standing there.
The Keeper. Closer now. Up close, she looked even more self-assured.
Not intimidating. But certain.
“You adjusted your rhythm halfway through.” She tilted her head slightly. “Most players don’t do that mid-play.”
Shotaro blinked. She had noticed.
“You blocked my first shot.” He replied.
She smiled. “Of course I did.” Then she held out her hand. “Clementine. Hufflepuff keeper 6 years running now.”
There was a hint of pride there. But it was earned. Shotaro took her hand. “Shotaro.”
“I know.” She didn’t hesitate. “You’re better than they think.”
The words were simple. But they landed differently. Because she meant them. Not because of his name. Not because of the prophecy. But because she had seen him play. “Thanks.”
A small silence followed. Then Clementine glanced around the pitch. “Looks like they’re all done celebrating.”
Shotaro followed her gaze. Most of the students had already left. “Yeah.”
She picked up a stray Quaffle. “You staying?”
Shotaro hesitated for a second. Then nodded. “Yeah.”
“Same.” She tossed the Quaffle lightly between her hands. “We should probably clean up before Madam Hooch comes back and blames us.”
The pitch emptied faster than Shotaro expected.
Laughter drifted away with the other students, fading into the distance until only the sound of wind remained. Clementine kicked a stray bludger crate into place with her foot. “They always leave the worst part for last.”
Shotaro picked up a discarded broom. “Convenient.”
“Very.”
For a while, they worked in comfortable silence. Not awkward. Not forced. Just quiet.
Clementine stacked a set of hoops against the shed wall before glancing at him. “So.”
Shotaro looked up. “So?”
She tilted her head slightly. “Is it weird if I ask you about the prophecy or is that rude because we barely know each other?”
There it was.
Shotaro paused. He had heard the question a hundred different ways in the past few days. From students. From whispers. From the way people looked at him. But this— This felt different. Clementine wasn’t asking because she was afraid. She was asking because she wanted to understand.
Shotaro exhaled softly. “I don’t know.”
It wasn’t the answer people expected. “I don’t think about it like everyone else does.”
Clementine leaned against her broom, watching him. “How do you think about it?”
Shotaro considered for a moment. “You know there are six of us.” A simple fact. “But everyone keeps acting like they’re afraid of stepping on one of our toes in case we might breathe fire on them if something goes wrong.”
He shrugged slightly. “But honestly, I’ve never been… that person.”
Clementine raised an eyebrow. “That person?”
“You know… like the best one in the room.”
The words came easier than he expected. “I train a lot. I work for it. But there’s always someone smarter."
"Someone faster with spells. Someone who just… gets it quicker." He gave a small, almost self-aware smile. "I’m not used to being underestimated.”
“But I’m also not used to being the answer.”
Clementine didn’t interrupt. Didn’t rush to fill the silence. So he continued. “I think the prophecy just… put us in the same place. That’s all.”
Clementine studied him carefully. “You don’t sound scared.”
Shotaro shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve had time to be. I mean we have our N.E.W.Ts this year.”
That mattered more. “I just need to focus. Catch up. Make sure I don’t fall behind.”
Clementine nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
Shotaro hesitated, then added: “Professor Dumbledore offered to help.”
“Help?”
“Private lessons.”
Clementine straightened slightly. “With him?”
Clementine tapped her fingers lightly against the broom handle. “Doesn’t he already have a lot to deal with?”
Shotaro blinked. “What do you mean?”
“He’s the Headmaster.”
Her tone was still casual.
Light.
But there was something underneath it.
“The whole school, the Ministry probably breathing down his neck after the prophecy, everything that happened in the Great Hall…”
She tilted her head. “And he still has time to give private lessons?”
Shotaro frowned slightly. “I guess…” He hadn’t thought about it like that.
Clementine watched him. Carefully. “But maybe he just thinks you need it.”
The words were neutral. But they lingered. Shotaro didn’t respond immediately. Because something about that sentence—you need it —felt different.
The bell rang. Echoing across the grounds.
Clementine groaned. “Potions.”
Shotaro’s eyes widened slightly. “Snape.”
They both moved at the same time.
“Okay—brooms, crates—just leave the heavier stuff—”
“I’ve got it—”
They rushed, grabbing whatever they could carry. In the chaos, their hands brushed. Just for a second. Barely anything. But Shotaro felt it. A small, unfamiliar flutter in his chest.
He froze for half a heartbeat. What was that—
“Mr Osaki.”
The voice cut through the air. Both of them jumped. Shotaro nearly dropped the broom. Clementine spun around.
Standing a few feet away— as if he had always been there— was Professor Dumbledore.
Neither of them had heard him arrive. Dumbledore’s gaze moved briefly across the pitch.
Then, just as quickly, he smiled. “Miss Fable.” A polite nod. “I hope your lesson was productive.”
“Yes, Professor.” Clementine answered quickly. Too quickly.
Dumbledore’s eyes flickered back to Shotaro. “And you, Mr Osaki?”
Shotaro straightened instinctively. “Yes, Professor.”
“Good.” Then Dumbledore gestured lightly toward the castle. “You should both make your way to Potions.” His tone remained warm. “But I imagine Professor Snape will be less forgiving if you are late.”
That was enough. “Yes, Professor.”
They didn’t argue. Didn’t question. They rushed. Running side by side toward the castle. Neither of them spoke until they reached the doors. And even then— something felt different. Because Shotaro couldn’t quite explain why his heart was still beating a little too fast. And Clementine couldn’t quite shake the feeling that when Dumbledore appeared—
He hadn’t been looking for them.
The Potions classroom still lingered in Shotaro’s mind long after the bell had rung. It wasn’t the smell of crushed ingredients. Or the low simmer of cauldrons. Or even the way Professor Snape’s voice seemed to cut through the room like a blade.
It was the feeling.
The quiet, uncomfortable certainty that he was not the best in the room. Not even close. Shotaro sat at his station, carefully measuring out powdered bicorn horn, his movements precise but deliberate. He followed instructions well. He always had. But that wasn’t the same as instinct.
Across the room—
“Mr Song.” Snape’s voice was sharp. “What is the primary stabilising property of thunderbrew when exposed to volatile magical interference?”
Eunseok didn’t even look up from his cauldron. “It redistributes excess magical charge through the vapour rather than the liquid base, preventing internal combustion.” A pause. “Provided the potion is brewed at a consistent temperature.”
Snape’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Correct.”
No praise. Just acknowledgment. Still— perfect. Shotaro tightened his grip on the ladle. And then came Sungchan. Who hadn’t written a single note. Who barely seemed to be paying attention. Yet when Snape passed his station— the potion inside his cauldron shimmered perfectly.
Smooth. Balanced. Exactly as it should be. Snape lingered. Said nothing. Moved on. Shotaro looked down at his own.
It wasn’t wrong. But it wasn’t that. Not effortless. Not natural. Just… correct. And that was when it settled. A quiet thought. One he hadn’t said out loud before. I’m not the one.
Not the smartest. Not the most talented. Not the one the prophecy would choose.
And for the first time— that thought didn’t feel disappointing. It felt like relief.
By the time Shotaro reached Dumbledore’s office that evening, the castle had quieted. The corridors were empty. The air still. He adjusted the scrolls in his arms. Quills. Ink. Notes. Prepared.
If Dumbledore was going to teach him, he would not waste the opportunity.
He knocked.
“Enter.”
The door opened. Dumbledore stood by his desk, already watching him. “Ah, Mr Osaki.”
Shotaro stepped inside. “Professor.”
He set his materials down neatly. “I’ve brought everything I thought I might need—”
Dumbledore raised a hand gently. “That will not be necessary.”
Shotaro blinked.
Dumbledore’s smile was calm. Measured. “Today, I would like to begin with something a little different.”
Shotaro hesitated. Then nodded. “Of course.”
Dumbledore moved across the room. Not toward the desk. But toward a large, old chest resting near the wall. It was worn. Unremarkable. The kind of object most students would overlook. But something about the way Dumbledore approached it— made Shotaro’s attention sharpen.
“Tell me, Mr Osaki,” Dumbledore said lightly, resting a hand on the lid. “What do you believe is the most dangerous thing a wizard can face?”
“A dark wizard?” Shotaro paused, “Or… a powerful curse?”
Dumbledore smiled faintly. “Reasonable answers.”
He opened the chest. The lid creaked. Slow. Deliberate. "And yet… not entirely correct."
Something moved inside. Shotaro stepped back instinctively. The air shifted. Colder.
He recognised it immediately. "A boggart?"
Dumbledore glanced at him briefly. "Very good."
Before Shotaro could react further— the thing inside the chest surged forward. Dark. Shifting. Unformed— Until it wasn’t.
Shotaro froze. Because what stood before him— was himself. But not quite. This version of him stood taller. Still. Wrapped in something that looked almost like light— no— not light.
Expectation. Heavy. Blinding. A crown—not solid, not real—but formed from something unseen—hovered above his head. And behind him— figures. Familiar. Sungchan. Eunseok. Wonbin. Sohee. Anton. One by one— they faded. Gone.
Leaving him alone. The room felt suffocating. The figure stepped forward. And though it did not speak— Shotaro understood.
This is you.
This is what they want you to be.
This is what you will become.
Alone.
Chosen.
Trapped.
His chest tightened. No— He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to stand above everyone else. Didn’t want to lose them. Didn’t want— "Riddikulus!"
The word left him before he could think. The image shattered. The crown tilted, slipping awkwardly over the figure’s eyes. The tension broke. The figure stumbled— ridiculous— wrong— And then it collapsed back into shadow.
The boggart retreated into the chest.
Silence.
Shotaro stood still, breath uneven. Dumbledore closed the lid gently. "As I said," he murmured. "The most dangerous thing a wizard can face…" He turned. "Is fear."
Shotaro frowned slightly. Still catching his breath. "Professor…" He hesitated. "Why are we reviewing third-year Defence Against the Dark Arts material?"
Dumbledore’s expression did not change. "Because," he said softly, "no matter how advanced a wizard becomes—" A pause. “Their foundation determines how far they can go.:
Then, with a faint smile: "And I find it most enlightening to understand what a student sees when confronted with fear."
Shotaro absorbed that. It made sense. Didn’t it?
He nodded slowly. "I see." But something about the lesson felt… unexpected.
Dumbledore moved back toward his desk. "Now," he said, as if nothing unusual had occurred, "shall we begin properly?"
Shotaro straightened. "Yes, Professor."
He didn’t notice the way Dumbledore’s gaze lingered on him for just a moment longer than necessary. Thoughtful. Measured.
Time passed differently at Hogwarts. Days blurred into lessons. Lessons into routines.
And routines—slowly, quietly—into something that almost resembled normal.
Almost.
The whispers never fully disappeared. Students still stared. Still moved aside in corridors.
Still lowered their voices when the six of them passed. But it became… manageable. Because they had each other now.
They sat together in the Great Hall. Walked together between classes. Studied—well, some of them studied—together in the evenings. And somehow, without anyone saying it out loud, they stopped feeling like six strangers thrown together by a prophecy—
and started feeling like something closer.
Shotaro felt it the most in his lessons. Not all of them. Potions was still… Potions. But things had changed. Under Professor Dumbledore’s guidance, his spellwork had sharpened. His focus improved. Even Snape— who had made it very clear he had little patience for mediocrity— had stopped calling on him as often. Stopped watching him like he was waiting for him to fail.
It wasn’t praise.
But it was something. And for the first time since arriving— Shotaro felt like he was catching up.
“Move, move—let me through!”
Sohee’s voice cut through the corridor as he darted ahead of the group, clutching a parchment in one hand. The other five followed at a more reasonable pace.
“What’s got you so excited?” Sungchan called.
Sohee turned, walking backwards with a grin that was far too wide to be subtle. “Mail from home.”
Wonbin groaned. “Unless it’s food, I don’t care.”
“It’s better than food.”
“That’s not possible.”
Sohee waved the letter. “It’s my family’s annual dinner.”
Eunseok didn’t look up from his book. “The one where they invite half the wizarding world and pretend it’s not a competition?”
“Exactly that one.”
Wonbin perked up. “Wait—those dinners?”
“That very one.”
Now even Anton looked interested. “That’s… kind of a big deal.”
“It is a big deal,” Sohee said proudly. “And they sent me a suit.”
Wonbin’s eyes lit up instantly. “Oh, I need to see that.”
“No, you don’t—”
Too late.
Wonbin rushed forward, catching up easily and immediately reaching for Sohee’s hair. “Don’t touch—!”
He ruffled it anyway. “Hey, maybe you should style your hair just like this. You’ll look dashing.”
“You’re insufferable—”
They stumbled slightly as they reached the base of the grand staircase. The moving staircases shifted above them, groaning softly as they rearranged themselves. By now, all six of them had learned its patterns. Which staircases paused longer. Which ones were safe to jump. Which corridors led somewhere useful— and which ones absolutely did not.
“Wait for this one,” Anton said, glancing up. “It’ll swing left in a second.”
Sure enough, it did. Perfect timing. Routine. Familiar. Safe.
Then— creak. The sound was wrong. Too loud. Too sharp.
Wonbin froze mid-step. “…Did you hear that?” Sohee blinked. “What?”
Wonbin shifted his weight slightly.
The floorboard beneath him let out another long, strained groan.
creeeaaak.
That got everyone’s attention. Eunseok finally looked up from his book. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t move.”
But Sohee—curious, always curious—tilted his head and pressed his foot down again.
CREAK. Louder this time. Echoing. Like the sound didn’t belong to the hallway at all.
“Okay, that’s definitely not—”
“Move away from that—”
Eunseok stepped forward sharply.
At the same time, the others instinctively moved closer. Too close. Sohee shifted his weight fully onto the tile.
For half a second— nothing happened. Then—
crack.
The floor split.
Sohee didn’t even have time to react before the ground beneath him vanished.
“SOHEE—” Wonbin reached for him— and missed.
Both of them dropped.
The hallway snapped back into place.
Smooth. Unbroken. As if nothing had happened.
Silence.
Shotaro’s heart slammed against his ribs.
“What—” Anton took a step back. “That’s not—”
“This isn’t—” Eunseok moved forward immediately, dropping to where they had stood—
his hand hovering just above the tile.
No gap. No crack. Nothing. “That’s not possible.”
Sungchan’s voice was tight. “Where did they—”
The floor shifted. All four of them froze. Shotaro barely had time to look up— before the ground beneath them gave way.
Falling. No warning. No time to think. Just— darkness. The world flipped. Air rushed past them. Anton shouted something. Sungchan reached out— but there was nothing to grab. Shotaro’s stomach dropped.
His thoughts scattered. This isn’t happening.
This isn’t— Then— impact. Hard.
The breath was knocked from his lungs as he hit the ground. Everything spun.
For a moment, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t—
“…Shotaro?”
A voice. Close. Alive. He forced himself to breathe. To sit up. Shapes slowly formed in the darkness.
Sungchan. Anton. Eunseok.
All there. All okay. But— “Wonbin?”
“Sohee?”
No answer. Shotaro’s chest tightened.
“They fell first—”
“They have to be here,” Anton said quickly. “They have to—”
“Wait.”
Eunseok’s voice cut through the panic. Quiet. Sharp. “Something’s wrong.”
Shotaro looked up. The space around them didn’t look like any part of Hogwarts he had ever seen. The walls were too smooth. Too curved. Like they hadn’t been built—
but formed. No torches. No windows. No doors. Just darkness. Heavy. Pressing.
Above them— the ceiling sealed itself shut. Stone sliding into place without a seam. The last sliver of light disappeared. Gone. Completely. As if the castle itself had swallowed them whole.
For a moment— no one spoke. No one moved. Then Shotaro felt it. Something shift. Not the ground. Not the walls. Something else.
He glanced at Sungchan. At the exact same moment— Sungchan looked back.
Anton inhaled sharply. “…Do you feel that?”
Eunseok didn’t answer. But his grip on his wand tightened. Shotaro’s pulse quickened. Because the feeling wasn’t unfamiliar. It was the samesubtle, suffocating pressure— he had felt in Dumbledore’s office.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The darkness pressed in around them.
"Lumos." Eunseok’s voice cut through the silence. A small sphere of light appeared at the end of his wand, illuminating his face. The others immediately followed.
"Lumos."
"Lumos."
"Lumos."
One by one, the room came alive. And slowly— they began to understand where they were. Or rather… where they were not. Because this did not look like a forgotten underground chamber.
Not really. There was no dust. No mould. No signs of decay. No cobwebs stretching across the ceiling. No abandoned furniture left behind by students who had long since forgotten this place existed. Instead, the room looked untouched. Preserved. Almost cared for.
The stone walls were smooth. The floor was polished. Soft blue light seemed to linger beneath the surface of the stone, almost like magic was breathing underneath it.
There were even small details that made the room feel strangely comfortable.
A few old armchairs arranged near the walls. Bookshelves carved directly into the stone.
A fireplace that sat cold but ready, as though someone could light it at any moment.
Shotaro looked around slowly. "This doesn't make sense."
Eunseok was already moving. Of course he was. He approached one of the walls, running his fingers carefully along the carved stone. "This isn't on any Hogwarts map."
He pulled out a notebook immediately. "I've read about the original castle structure. The expansions. The hidden corridors."
He turned around, eyes scanning the room. "This room shouldn't exist."
Despite the situation, there was something almost excited in his voice. A mystery. Something unknown. Something even he couldn't immediately solve. "I've never heard of anything like this."
Anton looked around nervously. "Should we be excited that we found a secret room or concerned that we fell into one?"
"Both," Sungchan answered.
Nobody disagreed.
Shotaro wandered away from the others. Something was pulling him. Not physically. Not exactly. Just a strange feeling. Like the room was calling him. He reached the far corner. And froze. There were words carved into the wall. Not like the usual magical inscriptions at Hogwarts. These were different.
Older.
The letters shimmered faintly in blue. Almost glowing beneath the stone. "Eunseok."
The other boy immediately looked up. "What?"
"Come here."
Eunseok rushed over.
The second he saw the writing, his expression changed. Not fear. Something closer to disbelief. "This..." He leaned closer. "This isn't standard ancient runes."
He pulled out his notebook. Started writing immediately. The others gathered around. "What does it say?"
Eunseok didn't answer. Because he didn't know. He flipped through pages. Checked notes. Compared symbols. Nothing. "It's not matching anything I've studied." His frustration grew. "That doesn't make sense."
He wrote faster. "Every magical script has patterns. Every language has structure." He stared at the glowing symbols. "But this..." He shook his head.
"I don't know."
Shotaro reached toward the wall. The warning came too late. His fingers touched the writing. And the room changed. Not violently. Not like before. Something gentler. The blue light beneath his hand brightened. The symbols moved. Shifted. Rearranged themselves.
Everyone stepped back. Shotaro stared. Because suddenly— he understood. Not translated. Not decoded.
Understood. Like he had always known.His lips parted. "The chamber beneath..."
The others turned toward him. "What?"
Shotaro’s eyes remained fixed on the words. "The chamber beneath the chamber.” The writing glows bright. “It says..."
He swallowed. "It says what is hidden below must be found before the breath runs out."
Silence.
Sungchan frowned. "Breath?"
Shotaro continued reading. His voice quieter now. "The two who fell first remain beneath the surface."
His heart dropped. "Wonbin and Sohee."
Everyone froze. Anton immediately turned toward the centre of the room. "Where?"
Shotaro looked down. At the floor. At the exact centre.
The room responded. The blue light spread. Lines of magic travelled across the stone.
The entire chamber awakened. And then— the floor beneath them disappeared.
Not falling. Not breaking. Revealing. The centre of the room became transparent. A massive circle of glass appeared beneath their feet.
And below— there they were.
Wonbin.
Sohee.
Trapped in a chamber beneath them. Separated by thick glass. Their hands pressed against the surface. Their movements slower now.
Panicked. Because the air below was running out.
"Wonbin!" Anton dropped to his knees.
The two boys looked up. They could see them. But they couldn't hear them. The glass separated them completely. Shotaro’s stomach twisted. "When did this happen?"
Eunseok looked at the chamber below. Then at the writing. His expression darkened. "The room knew."
Everyone looked at him. "It brought us here because it knew they would need help."
A horrible thought settled over them. The room wasn't trapping them. It was testing them.
Shotaro stared down at Wonbin and Sohee.
For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts— the prophecy felt real. Not because the world was watching them. Not because people feared them. But because two of their own were in danger. And everyone was looking at him. Waiting. The same way everyone always did.
Except this time— he wasn't standing alone. He looked at the others.
"We need to get them out."
Simple. Certain. No hesitation. Eunseok looked at the glass. Sungchan examined the room. Anton gripped his wand tightly.
And somewhere deep beneath Hogwarts— something ancient stirred. Because the six had arrived. And the castle was beginning to remember why.
"I'll break it."
Shotaro turned. Sungchan already had his wand raised.
"What?"
Sungchan didn't look at him. "If we can't open it normally, we force it open."
"Easier said than—"
"Bombarda."
The spell left his wand. Fast. Too fast. Anton reacted before anyone else. "Sungchan, wait—"
He lunged forward, barely knocking Sungchan's arm aside. The spell hit the edge of the glass floor instead.
For one second— nothing happened. Then the room screamed.
The magic hit the ancient stone and exploded outward.
A wave of force shot through the chamber. The spell didn't break the glass. It bounced. Straight back.
"Get down!" Shotaro shouted.
Everyone threw themselves aside as the spell ricocheted through the room. A blast tore across the wall. Another shot past Eunseok's shoulder. The shelves shook. Ancient books flew from their places. The fireplace exploded with blue flames.
"Take cover!" Shotaro yelled again.
The four scattered.
"What were you thinking?!" Eunseok's voice cut through the chaos.
Sungchan looked furious. "What was I supposed to do? Sit here and watch them suffocate?"
"You could have told us before throwing an explosive spell into an unknown magical chamber!"
"They're running out of air!"
"And you almost trapped all of us down here!"
The spell continued bouncing around them. Neither seemed to notice.
"We don't have time to stand around analysing everything!"
"And we don't have time to make stupid decisions that get everyone killed!"
"You think I don't know that?"
"Then act like it!"
Another blast tore across the room. Anton ducked behind a pillar. "Can you two shut the fuck up?!"
Neither stopped. "I said SHUT UP!"
The force in his voice made them pause. Anton was breathing heavily. His wand was raised. "Does anyone know how to stop this?"
Anton looked between them. "Eunseok?"
Nothing. The Slytherin boy's eyes were moving rapidly across the room.
Calculating. Searching. But nothing. "Sungchan?"
No answer.
Then Anton looked at Shotaro.
Hopeful. Waiting. Shotaro froze. Because this was the moment. The moment where everyone looked at him. The moment everyone expected something. A solution. A spell. A plan. Anything. But his mind was empty. For the first time in his life— he had no answer.
Another blast came. Anton raised his wand. "Protego!"
A shield erupted around him. The impact hit immediately. The force pushed him backwards. His shoes scraped against the stone floor. His arm shook.
"Anton!"
"I'm fine!"
He wasn't. The shield flickered. His concentration was slipping. "We need to do something!"
Sungchan raised his wand again.
"Maybe if I try—"
"No."
Eunseok moved instantly. "Expelliarmus!"
The spell struck Sungchan's wand. It flew from his hand.
Sungchan stared at him. "You disarmed me?"
"Yes."
"Are you serious?"
"Completely."
"You could have just told me to stop!"
"I just did."
The floor shook again. A crack appeared along the wall. Everyone went silent.
Shotaro watched them. Sungchan was desperate. Eunseok was trying to control the situation. Anton was holding everyone together by sheer will. But nobody was actually listening. Nobody was trusting.
Everyone was trying to save the day alone.
And that was when Shotaro understood. They weren't failing because they lacked power. They were failing because they were fighting separately.
Another blast approached. Anton’s shield weakened. "Shotaro!"
The sound of his name snapped him out of it. Everyone looked at him.
Waiting. Not for a spell. Not for some impossible answer. For direction. And suddenly, something clicked. Not magic. Not prophecy. Something simpler. Leadership. He stepped forward.
"Everyone stop." The room seemed to pause at that. "We're doing this wrong."
Another impact hit Anton's shield. Shotaro continued. "We're treating this like there's one person who has to solve it."
His eyes moved between them. "There isn't." A pause. "We need all of us."
Anton’s shield trembled. Everyone saw it. The blue barrier flickered violently, cracks of light spreading across its surface.
"Anton—"
"I know!" His voice strained. His arm shook.
The spell was too powerful. Too unstable. He was holding back something that wasn't meant to be contained.
The shield shattered. The impact sent Anton flying backwards. A sharp spark sliced across his forearm before the spell ricocheted away again, tearing through the room. Anton hit the ground hard. His wand slipped from his hand.
"Anton!" Shotaro moved immediately. He grabbed the younger boy by the shoulders and pulled him away as another blast shot past them. They barely made it behind the nearest table before the spell struck the opposite wall.
The room shook. Anton sucked in a sharp breath. His face had gone pale.
"Are you okay? Shotaro grabbed his arm carefully.
The injury wasn't deep. Just a burn. But Anton's eyes betrayed him. He was scared. Not the kind of fear that came from pain. The kind that came from realising— they might not get out.
"I'm okay," Anton whispered. But his voice was unsteady.
Shotaro nodded, castingepiskey on his wounds. “Stay here."
He moved back toward the centre of the room. His eyes immediately went to the writing.
The blue symbols still glowed faintly. Waiting. A message. A clue. Something they were missing.
"The two who fell first remain beneath the surface."
No. That wasn't all. He focused harder. The words weren't telling them where they were. They already knew. They were telling them what had to happen. But what?
His eyes moved across the symbols. The chamber. The glass. The magic. Then the Bombarda spell crashed against the wall again.
And it clicked.
"Bombarda isn't working."
Everyone looked at him "What?"
Shotaro stared at the glass floor. "Why isn't it working?"
Sungchan frowned. "What do you mean?"
"If it was just glass, Bombarda would have broken it." He looked around. "But it didn't."
The spell hadn't weakened. It hadn't failed. It had been rejected. The room wasn't resisting the explosion. It was redirecting it. "There's something protecting it."
At that exact moment, Eunseok dropped to his knees. His hand hovered inches above the floor. His eyes narrowed. "Wait."
Everyone turned. "What?"
"Don't move."
For once, Eunseok didn't sound irritated. He sounded fascinated. And worried. "There’s magic underneath the stone." He traced the patterns with his eyes. "Not just around the chamber."
His gaze shifted toward the glass. "It's everywhere." He stood quickly. "The Bombarda isn't failing."
"It's being absorbed."
The room went silent. "The protective magic is taking the force and redirecting it."
Sungchan stared. "So we can't break through."
"Not with force." Eunseok looked at the chamber below. "We need to reverse the spell."
A beat.
"Immediately."
Another blast. Everyone ducked. The spell was getting faster.Stronger. And below them— Wonbin's movements had slowed. Sohee had stopped pounding against the glass.
Shotaro's stomach dropped. They were running out of time.
No more guessing.
No more arguing.
He stepped forward. "Sungchan."
The boy looked at him.
"What?"
"Protego."
Sungchan blinked. "What?"
"Cast Protego."
He stared. "On what?"
"The spell."
For a second, nobody spoke. Then Sungchan actually looked offended. "You want me to shield a Bombarda?"
"Yes."
"Shotaro, do you understand how long I can hold a shield?"
"I do."
"And you understand that the thing flying around the room is an unstable explosive spell?"
"I know."
Sungchan looked frustrated. "Then why—"
"Because you're not shielding us." Shotaro met his eyes. "You're shielding the spell."
That stopped him. Shotaro pointed toward the flying magic. "Trap it."
"Contain it." He looked at Sungchan. "Then shrink it."
Understanding slowly crossed Sungchan's face.
Not completely. But enough. "You want me to compress it."
"Yes." Sungchan looked at the spell flying around them.
Then nodded. "That's insane."
Shotaro gave a small breath. "Probably."
A faint smile crossed Sungchan's face. "Okay." The boy raised his wand. "Protego!" The spell erupted arund the Bombarda spell. For the first time since the chaos began— the magic stopped moving. The glowing sphere of unstable energy slammed against the invisible barrier.
Sungchan gritted his teeth. "It's fighting back."
"I know." Shotaro looked at him.
"Don't fight it."
Sungchan frowned "What?"
"Control it."
A pause.
"You're not stopping it. You're containing it." The shield trembled. But Sungchan adjusted. Slowly. The sphere began shrinking.
"Eunseok."
Shotaro turned. "Find the reversal."
The Slytherin didn't answer. He was already moving. Crawling beneath tables. Checking the stone patterns. Comparing the ancient writing. Watching how the magic moved. For the first time, he wasn't searching for an answer in a book. He was studying the magic itself. "There." He pointed toward the centre.
"No." He moved. "Wait." Another angle. Another observation. His eyes flicked downward. Then widened. "The spell isn't on the glass."
Everyone looked at him. "It's on the room." Eunseok stood. "The glass is only a consequence."
He looked at Shotaro. "We need to break the chamber's protection, not the barrier."
Shotaro looked down. Below them— Wonbin's head had fallen against the glass. Sohee wasn't moving anymore. His heart dropped.
"We need to hurry."
The room pulsed. The ancient symbols brightened. And for the first time— all the boys were not fighting against each other. They were moving together.
The room was no longer trying to kill them. It was trying to break them. And somehow, that felt worse. Because now they understood. The magic wasn’t random. Every spell they threw at it. Every attempt to force their way through.
The chamber responded. Adapted. Redirected. As if it had been waiting centuries for someone foolish enough to challenge it. And now— it had found six.
"Sungchan!"
The boy’s knees buckled slightly. "I know!"
His wand arm trembled. The Bombarda spell floated between his hands, trapped inside the translucent barrier of his Protego. Except it was no longer a massive explosion tearing through the room. It was smaller. Contained. A violent sphere of unstable magic, no larger than a fist.
Sweat dripped down Sungchan’s forehead. "This thing is heavier than it looks."
Shotaro glanced at him, ”Can you hold it?"
Sungchan gave him an incredulous look.”Do I have a choice?" Another tremor ran through the room. The sphere pulsed violently. Sungchan gritted his teeth. "I can keep it contained."
A pause. "But not forever."
"Eunseok."
The boy was already moving. His notebook was abandoned on the floor now. No more notes. No more searching through written knowledge. He was studying. The room. The magic. The patterns. His eyes traced the glowing symbols carved into the walls. "The protection spell isn't the barrier." He muttered. "The barrier is only the result."
He moved toward the far wall. "The spell is woven into the entire chamber." His fingers hovered over the ancient writing. "And the reversal should be somewhere here."
He looked around. There were four walls. Four sets of inscriptions. One they had already discovered. Three more remained. But the symbols meant nothing. His jaw tightened. "I can't read them."
Nobody spoke. Because everyone knew what came next. Slowly— Eunseok turned. His eyes landed on Shotaro. "You can."
Shotaro hesitated. "What?"
"The writing?” Eunseok gestured toward the walls. "You read the first one."
"I don't know how I did that.”
"Doesn't matter." Eunseok stepped closer. "The chamber responds to you."
The words were not accusing. Not jealous. Just factual. For once, Eunseok wasn't trying to solve something alone. "I need you."
That sentence surprised Shotaro more than anything else. Because Eunseok rarely admitted that. Shotaro nodded. "Okay."
They moved together. Eunseok analysed the structure. Shotaro placed his hand against the glowing symbols. Immediately— the blue light appeared. The room hummed.
The ancient letters shifted.
And once again— Shotaro understood. Not through learning. Not through studying. Through something deeper. "The reversal isn't a spell."
Eunseok looked at him. "What?"
Shotaro moved along the wall. "It's a command." He frowned. "The chamber isn't asking someone to destroy the protection."
"Then what?"
Shotaro looked toward the centre. “It's asking someone to return what was taken."
Eunseok stared. "Taken?"
Shotaro nodded. "Something was removed."
A sudden movement caught Anton’s attention. The younger boy had been crouched beside the glass floor, watching Wonbin and Sohee. Not the magic. Not the room. Them.
"Wait."
Everyone turned. Anton pressed his hand against the glass. "There's something there."
Shotaro rushed over. "What?"
"Under Wonbin."
Everyone looked down. Beneath the glass, near Wonbin's arm— a small piece of parchment. Torn. Almost hidden.
"How did we not see that?"
Anton swallowed. "I don't know." His voice was quiet. "But it's there."
"Easier said than done." The younger boy took a breath. His hands were shaking.
But he raised his wand. "Accio."
Then the parchment shifted. Slowly. Very slowly. It dragged itself across the chamber beneath them. Past Sohee. Past Wonbin. Toward the centre. Toward them. Anton’s expression tightened with concentration. The parchment rose. Hit the underside of the glass. And stopped.
"Sungchan!" The boy looked over. "Almost done!"
Sungchan laughed breathlessly. "That's what everyone says right before something terrible happens." The contained Bombarda shrunk again. Now the size of a small coin. But Sungchan was visibly struggling. His breathing was uneven. His arms shook. "Please tell me you have something."
Shotaro and Eunseok pressed their hands against the glass. The parchment hovered between them. But it was soaked. Condensation blurred the ink. The words were barely visible. "We can't read it."
Eunseok frowned. "Not like this."
Shotaro leaned closer. The ancient script from the walls. The chamber. The parchment. It was all connected. He closed his eyes.
And tried.
Not forcing.
Not analysing.
Listening.
Slowly, the ink began to glow faintly.
Eunseok stared. "You're activating it."
Shotaro shook his head "No. I think it's recognising it."
The writing shifted. Revealing hidden symbols underneath the water stains. Eunseok immediately began reading.
"No..."
"What?"
"This isn't a spell."
"It's instructions."
The parchment read:
What was divided must be returned.
What was sealed must be opened.
What was forgotten must be remembered.
Shotaro frowned. "That's not enough."
Eunseok looked closer. "There."
A smaller line.
Almost invisible.
Hidden at the bottom.
Six hands. One purpose.
They both froze.
“Shotaro.” The boy’s voice came out strained. "I really need that solution now." The Bombarda sphere shook violently.
A crack appeared in his Protego. "We are running out of time."
Shotaro looked at the others. At the parchment. At the chamber. Six hands. One purpose. Then he understood. The room was never asking one person to solve it. It was asking all of them. "Everyone." His voice carried. "We need to touch the centre."
Eunseok looked confused. “The centre?"
"The room." Shotaro pointed downward.
"The protection isn't stopping us from breaking in." He looked at the glass beneath them. "It's waiting for us to open it."
Eunseok frowned. "What?"
"The centre of the room." Shotaro pointed.
"We need to stand there." His eyes moved across the ancient markings beneath their feet. The same markings that had been glowing since they entered. The same markings that had been waiting. "I think..." He paused. Because he didn't actually know. Not really. There was no textbook answer. No spell written in his notes. No memory from years of studying. Just a strange certainty sitting deep inside him.
"We're supposed to stand together."
A silence followed.
Normally, Eunseok would have questioned him.
Normally, Sungchan would have argued.
Normally, they would have searched for another option.
But they were tired. Scared. And running out of time. And somehow— they trusted him.
"Sungchan."
The Ravenclaw looked over. The small Bombarda sphere was still trapped inside his Protego. His face was pale. His breathing uneven. "I need you to release it."
Everyone froze.
"What?" Sungchan stared.
"Shotaro, if I drop the shield—"
"I know."
The sphere pulsed violently.
"You can't keep holding it."
Sungchan clenched his jaw. "And what happens when I let go?"
Shotaro looked at the circle. "Trust me."
It was the first time he had ever said those words to them. Not as a request. As a leader. Sungchan looked at him. Then at the unstable spell. Then back. "...You're lucky I like being alive."
Despite everything— Shotaro almost smiled. Sungchan exhaled. "Fine." His wand lowered. The Protego dissolved. For a split second, the Bombarda expanded. Everyone tensed.
Then— the ancient room reacted. The blue markings beneath their feet flashed. The unstable magic froze. Not destroyed. Contained. Like the chamber itself had taken over.
Sungchan stumbled. Shotaro caught his shoulder. "You okay?"
"Ask me after I stop feeling like my arm is about to fall off." But he was smiling slightly.
One by one, they moved.
Eunseok. Sungchan. Anton. Shotaro. They stood in the centre of the chamber. The circle beneath them began glowing brighter. They turned their backs toward each other. Facing outward. Four directions. Four points. One shape. A circle.
For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts— they were not standing together because of a prophecy. They were standing together because they chose to.
Shotaro looked around. His friends. The people who, a few weeks ago, had been complete strangers. Sungchan, who acted before thinking because he cared too much. Eunseok, who hid everything behind logic because uncertainty terrified him. Anton, who was afraid but still stepped forward. Wonbin and Sohee, waiting below them. Six people. Six different paths. And somehow— this felt right.
"The spell."
Eunseok looked at him. "You know it?"
Shotaro hesitated. "No."
A pause.
The others stared. Then Sungchan let out a tired laugh. "That is the least reassuring thing you've ever said."
Shotaro looked down at the glowing symbols. "But I think..." His voice softened.
"I think we already know it." The ancient writing on the floor shifted. Letters forming. Revealing the words they had seen before. Not instructions. Not a command.
An invitation.
ASTRA VINCULUM
Shotaro took a breath.
"Astra Vinculum."
His voice echoed. For a moment— nothing happened. Then, one by one.
"Astra Vinculum."
Sungchan followed. "Astra Vinculum."
Eunseok. "Astra Vinculum."
Anton.
The words overlapped. Four voices. Not perfectly synchronised. Not perfect. But the chamber did not demand perfection.
It demanded unity.
And then, the world went silent.
Not just the chamber. Everything. Every wizard. Every witch. Every magical creature.
Across the entire world, heard the same voice. The voice that had announced their names.
The voice that had started everything.
Six hearts marked.
The boys froze. The air changed.
Six paths divided.
Six powers awakened.
The blue light beneath their feet erupted. Not outward. Upward. Like a pillar connecting the chamber to the sky.
What was forgotten...
...shall be remembered.
Above Hogwarts. The stars flickered. And for the first time in centuries— ancient magic answered.
The glass beneath them shattered. Not broken. Unlocked. The barrier around Wonbin and Sohee dissolved. Their bodies lifted upward, surrounded by the same blue light.
Anton gasped. "Guys—"
Without thinking— all four reached out. Their magic connected. Not through a spell. Through instinct. Through trust. The two boys landed safely in the centre of the circle.
Alive. Breathing.
And as the six stood there—hands connected— the voice delivered its final message. Not to them. To the world.
The age of one ends.
The age of six begins.
THE DAILY PROPHET
THE SIX AWAKEN: HOGWARTS STUDENTS SURVIVE UNPRECEDENTED MAGICAL EVENT
Exclusive Interview with Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore
By Rita Skeeter
The wizarding world has finally received confirmation that the six students named in the mysterious prophecy are alive following an extraordinary magical incident beneath Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Shotaro Osaki, Sungchan Lee, Eunseok Song, Wonbin Park, Sohee Lee and Anton Lee were discovered beneath the castle earlier this week after disappearing from the Grand Staircase.
The six students are currently recovering in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing under the care of Madam Pomfrey.
Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has assured the public that all six boys are safe.
“The students experienced an extremely dangerous situation, but they showed remarkable courage and loyalty toward one another,” Professor Dumbledore stated.
“Their recovery has been promising, and Hogwarts staff remain committed to ensuring their wellbeing.”
Accompanying the article is a moving photograph captured shortly after the boys’ rescue.
The photograph shows all six students standing together in the Hospital Wing.
At first, they appear exhausted.
Then Shotaro says something that makes the others laugh.
Sungchan immediately throws an arm around him.
Wonbin pulls Sohee into the frame.
Anton laughs as Eunseok attempts to escape the chaos.
Within seconds, the six boys are wrapped in a messy embrace, smiling brightly as they celebrate surviving an impossible ordeal.
The photograph repeats endlessly.
Six boys.
One moment.
One bond.
THE PROPHECY RETURNS
The event has reignited discussion surrounding the mysterious voice that echoed throughout the wizarding world.
The same voice that previously announced the names of the six students was heard again.
Millions reported hearing the words:
The age of one ends.
The age of six begins.
Many have interpreted this as confirmation that one of the six boys is destined to become the next great wizard of the age.
During an exclusive interview, Rita Skeeter questioned Headmaster Dumbledore on whether the event had narrowed down which student may fulfil the prophecy.
"Surely, Professor," Skeeter pressed, "the magical community deserves to know whether one particular student has demonstrated stronger signs than the others?"
Dumbledore remained composed. “Prophecy is often misunderstood when viewed through the lens of expectation.”
When questioned specifically about Shotaro Osaki, whose ability to translate the ancient writings within the chamber has already become a topic of discussion, Dumbledore refused to speculate.
“Mr Osaki displayed remarkable courage, as did all five of his companions.”
Despite the Headmaster’s refusal to comment, speculation has already begun.
Many believe Shotaro Osaki, heir of the legendary Osaki Quidditch lineage and the student who first discovered the chamber’s message, may be the wizard the prophecy refers to.
Others argue that the answer lies not in one individual, but in the connection between all six.
For now, Hogwarts remains at the centre of the greatest magical mystery of the century.
The Hospital Wing was silent. The castle slept.
For the first time in days, Shotaro was alone.
Almost. Moonlight slipped through the windows. His eyes opened. He wasn't sure what woke him. A sound. A feeling. A whisper.
Slowly, he sat up. The room was empty.
Everyone else was asleep.
But then, he heard it. Not through his ears. Through something deeper. The same voice. The voice from the prophecy. His breath caught.
Because this time, it wasn't speaking to the world. It was speaking to him.
“The first has awakened.”
Shotaro froze.
A cold feeling settled in his chest. Because he suddenly realised something. The world believed the prophecy was asking: Which of the six will rise?
A second line appeared. Not in the air. Not on parchment. But somewhere far beneath Hogwarts. Within his mind.
“Five remain.”
The blue light faded. His mind went silent again. And deep beneath the castle— something waited.
you woke up to warmth. wonbin's arm was draped over your waist, his face buried in your hair. you were tangled together like it was the most natural thing in the world.
your heart stopped. then raced.
you held your breath, slowly lifted his arm, and slipped out of bed. he stirred once, murmured something, then rolled over. you grabbed your phone and rushed to the bathroom, locking the door behind you.
you couldn't go back to sleep. you couldn't look at him. so you did the only thing your panicking brain could think of — you messaged karina.
three feet apart: ran away roommate
⋆⋆⋆ sypnosis: what started as a desperate living situation slowly becomes something else entirely. some feelings refuse to stay on one side of the room, and the only thing harder than admitting them is pretending they don’t exist when you’re sleeping three feet apart every single night.
sunday afternoon sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting soft golden stripes across your room. you blinked awake slowly, stretching like a cat, and reached for your phone.
1:19 PM.
you groaned. not even noon—well, technically it was way past noon, but who was counting? it was sunday. sundays were made for rotting in bed. you were about to roll over and drift back into dreamland when you heard the soft shuffle of footsteps near the door.
your eyes landed on wonbin.
he was fully dressed—a light brown furry polo, a grey jacket over it, hair styled effortlessly messy. he looked like he'd been awake for hours, which he probably had. he was slipping his wallet into his back pocket, clearly on his way out.
you sat up, blankets pooling around your waist, hair a disaster.
"where are you going?" you asked, voice still thick with sleep.
wonbin turned at the sound of your voice, one eyebrow raised. a small smirk tugged at his lips. "good morning," he said, dragging out the words just enough to make it clear he was teasing. it was definitely not morning anymore.
you squinted at him. "shut up."
he chuckled softly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "grocery store. you need anything?"
you tilted your head, thoughts still waking up. you could just give him a list. that would be easy because you could go back to sleep. but then you thought about it—being alone in the dorm on a sunday afternoon, the same four walls, the same silence, the same old boredom you used to drown in before he started staying over. you used to do that all the time. lie in bed until the sun went down, scrolling mindlessly, waiting for the day to end.
"can i come with you?" the question slipped out before you could overthink it. wonbin blinked, clearly surprised. then his expression softened. "okay?"
you were already throwing your legs over the side of the bed. "but you have to wait for me to shower.
"okay, i don't mind."
"thirty minutes," you said, holding up three fingers like a promise and wonbin just nodded.
you hesitated, then added, "you can leave if i'm taking too long."
he looked at you then smiled. not a teasing smirk this time. a gentle one. "i won't leave. now go take your time."
he turned and sat back down on the edge of his bed, settling in like he had nowhere else to be. like waiting for you was exactly where he wanted to be.
you felt something warm bloom in your chest as you scrambled toward the bathroom.
you left the dorm together, the sunday afternoon air crisp and quiet. the streets weren't too busy—just a few couples walking hand in hand, families heading home from lunch, the occasional kid running ahead of their parents. you and wonbin walked side by side, not quite touching. you pulled out your phone to take a picture of your intertwined shadows on the ground. the way they overlapped, his taller frame beside yours, almost looked like something out of a movie.
"this is cute," you muttered to yourself, snapping the photo.
wonbin glanced over at your screen. "what are you doing?"
"posting a story," you said, already typing. then you paused and looked up at him. "wait, what's your instagram? i need to tag you."
wonbin just shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "@wonbin."
you typed it in, found his profile—a simple grid of random photos, mostly mirror pictures—and hit follow. then you tagged him in the story.
seconds later, your phone buzzed.
wonbin started following you.
the grocery store was mostly empty at this hour, which meant they could take their time. wonbin led the way down each aisle like he had a mental map, tossing things into the cart with quiet precision. you followed behind like a lost duckling, occasionally throwing in snacks that definitely weren't on the list.
at one point, an old halmeoni with kind eyes and a shopping basket of her own stopped near them. she watched for a moment as wonbin carefully compared two bottles of sesame oil, then looked at you with a knowing smile.
"oh, you two," the grandmother said, waving a hand between them. "so cute. how long have you been together?"
your eyes went wide. "oh—we're not—"
"six months," wonbin said smoothly, not even looking up from the sesame oil.
your head snapped toward him so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash.
the halmeoni clasped her hands together, absolutely delighted. "oh, six months! still in the honeymoon phase, i can tell. look at how he watches you." she winked at you. "young love. my husband and i were like this too. now he just leaves his socks everywhere."
you let out a strangled laugh, face burning. "that's—we're really just—"
"she's shy," wonbin cut in, finally putting one of the oil bottles into the cart. he glanced at you, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "she gets embarrassed when people notice."
the grandmother patted your arm gently. "don't be shy, dear. a boy who goes grocery shopping with you on a sunday? that's a keeper."
she shuffled off with a final pleased nod, leaving you standing in the middle of the aisle, absolutely speechless.
you turned to wonbin, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. "six months?!"
he shrugged, dropping a pack of mushrooms into the cart. "she looked like she wouldn't believe 'we're just dormmates.' easier this way."
"easier?!"
"it's not a big deal," he said, but the tips of his ears had gone slightly pink. he walked ahead, pushing the cart like he hadn't just short-circuited your entire brain.
you stood there for another three seconds before hurrying after him, your heart doing something stupid and fluttery in your chest.
you got back to the dorm as the sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, turning everything a soft shade of orange. groceries were unpacked, ingredients laid out on the counter, and the decision was made: kimchi jjigae for dinner.
you wanted to help. you really did. but the kitchen was small—too small for two people to move around comfortably, especially when one of them was you, who had a habit of being in the way.
so you did what any reasonable person would do.
you hopped onto the countertop.
"this is fine, right?" you asked, legs swinging as you watched wonbin wash the rice.
he glanced at you, a small huff of laughter escaping. "you're going to sit there and supervise?"
"i prefer the term 'moral support,' actually."
wonbin shook his head but didn't tell you to move. so you stayed, perched on the counter like a gremlin, watching him move around the tiny kitchen with surprising grace.
the kimchi jjigae was bubbling away on the stove, rich and red and smelling like heaven. wonbin had stepped away for a moment, disappearing toward the refrigerator to grab something. the kitchen felt emptier without him in it.
you, impatient and hungry and very bad at waiting, decided you couldn't take it anymore.
you dipped a spoon into the pot, blew on it once—barely—and put it in your mouth.
big mistake.
the heat hit your tongue like a firework explosion. you gasped, almost dropping the spoon, tears immediately prickling at the corners of your eyes. it was so hot. too hot. why was it so hot?!
"ah—hot, hot, hot—" you whimpered, fanning your mouth uselessly.
wonbin appeared beside you in an instant, a container of tofu in one hand. he took one look at your face—flushed, eyes watery, mouth slightly open as you tried to breathe through the burn—and immediately set the tofu down.
"did you taste it?" he asked, already grabbing a clean napkin.
"i just wanted to see if it was ready—"
"you couldn't wait thirty seconds?"
"it smelled so good—"
wonbin sighed, but it was the softest sigh you'd ever heard. he stepped close—right between your knees where you sat on the counter—and reached up to gently wipe the corner of your mouth with the napkin. his thumb brushed your lower lip through the paper, featherlight.
"stay still," he murmured, dabbing at another spot you hadn't even realized was messy.
you forgot how to breathe. he was so close. you could count his lashes if you wanted to. his hand was warm, steady, cradling your chin just slightly to keep you from moving.
"if you want to taste something," he said, voice low, "you ask me. okay? i'll check it for you."
you nodded, not trusting your voice. your heart was hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it.
wonbin's eyes flicked down to your lips for half a second—just a glance, so quick you almost missed it—before he pulled away and turned back to the stove like he hadn't just completely unraveled you.
you sat on the counter, face burning for an entirely different reason now, and tried very hard to act normal.
dinner was warm and filling and exactly what a sunday night should taste like. you ate in comfortable silence, the kind that didn't need to be filled with words, just the occasional clink of spoons against bowls and the satisfied hums of two people who'd made something good together.
well—wonbin had made it. you had sat on the counter and provided moral support and also set your tongue on fire. but it felt like together.
after the dishes were done, you insisted on washing, wonbin insisted on drying, you compromised by standing shoulder to shoulder at the sink. you grabbed a small bowl of orange and peaches from the fridge and washed them carefully, arranging them neatly in a bowl.
"okay," you said, bouncing on your heels slightly as you carried the fruit toward your bed. "i have a question. have you seen that drama everyone's talking about? when life gives you tangerines?"
wonbin followed you to your bed, watching as you fluffed the pillows, propped your laptop at the perfect angle, and placed the fruit bowl right in the middle where you both could reach.
"no," he said. "why?"
"because i haven't either, and i feel left out of every conversation right now. do you want to watch it with me?"
he looked at you for a long moment. then, simply: "okay."
you tried not to look too excited as you settled onto your bed. you patted the spot next to you. "get in."
wonbin sat down carefully, then leaned back against your pillows like he was trying not to take up too much space. but then you shifted closer, pulling a blanket over both of you, and he relaxed—just a little.
you opened your laptop and pressed play.
the drama played on screen—you were already deep into the later episodes now. the story had shifted to the next generation. the female lead, a young woman with quiet strength, was in the middle of a gut-wrenching confrontation with her boyfriend's mother.
you scoffed at the screen. "are you serious? he's just going to stand there like a statue?"
you turned to wonbin, eyes blazing.
"she's fighting for herself alone. look at him. he can't even look up. he can't even say anything. nothing. absolutely nothing. if my boyfriend did that i would simply walk out right then and there. like, what's the point of having a partner if they can't stand up for you when it matters?"
you paused.
wonbin hadn't responded.
you turned your head a little more.
his eyes were closed. his lashes fanned against his cheeks. his lips were slightly parted. his hand had fallen between you on the blanket, fingers loosely curled.
he was completely, utterly, peacefully asleep.
you stared at him.
you had just spent the last five minutes passionately explaining the entire emotional arc of the drama. you had used hand gestures. and he had heard exactly none of it.
"are you kidding me?" you whispered to no one.
you glared at his sleeping face. he didn't even flinch. just kept breathing softly like some kind of angel who had committed the crime of abandoning you mid-drama rant.
"i cannot believe you," you muttered, but your voice was already losing its edge. it was hard to stay annoyed when he looked like that. annoying. he was so annoying.
you watched him for another moment—the way his forehead was completely smoothed out, no worries, no walls. just him. just wonbin, asleep in your bed like he belonged there.
you sighed. a soft, defeated, fond sort of sigh.
"you snore a little, just so you know," you said quietly, even though he couldn't hear you.
you thought about the day—how it had started with you waking up at 1pm like a complete menace, and how wonbin had been awake for hours before that, waiting patiently. he had waited for you to get ready, walked with you to the grocery store, pushed the cart, picked out everything, paid for everything, carried the bags back, cooked dinner, cleaned up after. he had done almost all the work while you sat on the counter and provided questionable moral support.
it had been a long day for you, sure. but it had been an even longer day for him.
and yet, here he was. asleep in your bed. not complaining. not leaving. just... staying.
your heart swelled with something warm and heavy and terrifyingly sweet.
you didn't have the heart to wake him. not when he looked so peaceful. not when he had done so much today and asked for nothing in return. so instead, you carefully reached over and closed your laptop, the soft click filling the quiet room. you moved the fruit bowl to your nightstand for the morning, then fluffed the pillow next to his just enough to make yourself comfortable.
then, very, very carefully—as if he might shatter if you moved too fast—you reached for the blanket and pulled it higher over him. you tucked it around his shoulders first, gentle and slow, making sure he was covered. your fingers brushed against his arm for just a second, and you froze, holding your breath, praying he wouldn't wake up.
he didn't.
you let out the tiniest sigh of relief and continued tucking the blanket around him, smoothing it over his chest, tucking it under his free hand so he wouldn't get cold. every movement was deliberate, careful, featherlight. you moved like you were defusing a bomb. like the most important thing in the world was making sure he stayed asleep and comfortable.
when you were finally satisfied that he was properly tucked in, you laid down beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body but not close enough to touch. your head found its place on your own pillow, and for a long moment, you just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to him breathe.
the sunday night was quiet. two hearts beat side by side, one already dreaming, the other wide awake and smiling at the ceiling like an idiot.
you turned your head slightly, just to look at him one more time. his lashes. his lips. the way his hair fell across his forehead. the tiny peaceful sound he made when he breathed out.
he deserved to rest. he had earned this.
you could wake him. you should wake him. he had his own bed.
but you didn't.
instead, you let your eyes close, let your body relax into the mattress, let yourself pretend—just for tonight—that this was how every sunday was supposed to end.
you smiled to yourself, soft and secret, and finally drifted off.
three feet apart: not-so-date
⋆⋆⋆ sypnosis: what started as a desperate living situation slowly becomes something else entirely. some feelings refuse to stay on one side of the room, and the only thing harder than admitting them is pretending they don’t exist when you’re sleeping three feet apart every single night.
I NEED a kpop idol (a) x kpop idol/idol oc (b) where they are dating and both have heavy schedules which leads them to having their biggest fight, idol a is on tour while idol b is in korea preparing for a comeback AND THEN IDOL B’S FRIEND gets rushed to the hospital so idol b goes there and then idol a sees b’s location and books a flight back to korea bc he thinks that b is the one in the hospital
PLEASEEEE I BEG SOMEONE GIVE ME THIS RN! BWUAHAUABAHBAHABAHAHAH
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
⋆⋆⋆ sypnosis: what started as a desperate living situation slowly becomes something else entirely. some feelings refuse to stay on one side of the room, and the only thing harder than admitting them is pretending they don’t exist when you’re sleeping three feet apart every single night.
⋆⋆⋆ sypnosis: what started as a desperate living situation slowly becomes something else entirely. some feelings refuse to stay on one side of the room, and the only thing harder than admitting them is pretending they don’t exist when you’re sleeping three feet apart every single night.
you wake up to the sound of the shower running. you blink at the ceiling, disoriented. for a moment, you forget you have a roommate. morning light is already filtering through the curtains, soft and golden. your squishmallows are piled around you like always. everything feels normal.
then you hear water hitting tile and remember—wonbin. boy. shower. your bathroom.
you sit up so fast your head spins. your hand flies to your hair—messy. your face—probably puffy. you look like you just crawled out of a dumpster and he's about to see you like this. your heart is doing something stupid. you tell yourself it's because you're not a morning person. it's not because a boy is in your bathroom. definitely not.
the shower stops.
silence.
then footsteps. the bathroom door opens. steam curls out into the room, catching the morning light.
and then he appears.
wonbin emerges in a cloud of humidity, a towel around his neck, hair damp and sticking to his forehead in dark strands. his face is slightly flushed from the heat, cheeks pink, lips still wet. his white t-shirt clings to his shoulders—those shoulders—and his gray sweatpants hang low on his hips. water drips from his hair down his neck. down his collarbone. the golden morning light hits his face and you forget how to breathe.
he looks soft. morning-soft.
illegally soft.
your brain short-circuits.
he freezes when he sees you sitting up in bed, your hair a bird's nest, your eyes probably still sleepy, your oversized t-shirt hanging off one shoulder. you must look insane.
for a moment, you just stare at each other across the room. the morning light hangs between you.
"good morning," he says quietly. his voice is deeper in the morning. rougher. your stomach does a backflip.
"you're up early," you manage, your voice hoarse. you clear your throat like it'll help. it doesn't.
"i'm always awake at seven."
"wonbin, it's 6:45." he shrugs, and the movement makes his t-shirt shift across his chest. "woke up early today. first day nerves."
you nod slowly. you understand. your stomach is doing flips too, though you're not sure if it's from first day nerves or from the way his hair is still dripping. or from the way he's looking at you right now like you're the one who looks nice. which you don't. you look like a disaster.
stop looking at him, you scream internally.
"i'm gonna take a shower," you announce, swinging your legs out of bed a little too dramatically. you grab your towel and clutch it like a shield.
he nods, still not quite looking at you. his eyes are fixed somewhere near your feet. "yeah. i'm done anyway. bathroom is all yours."
there's a pause. neither of you moves.
"okay then," you say. "okay," he echoes.
you shuffle toward the bathroom, hyperaware of his presence behind you. you can feel his eyes on your back. or maybe you're imagining it. you're probably imagining it. when you glance back, he's turned toward the window, his back to you, giving you space. the morning light outlines his shoulders.
you look away quickly and disappear into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. you lean against it for a moment, pressing your hand to your chest. your heart is pounding.
it's your first time having a roommate, you tell yourself. and it's a boy. of course your heart would pound. anyone would feel the same. this is normal. this is fine. you take a deep breath. then another.
you're just not used to this yet. that's all. you're slowly learning how to live with someone new. give it time. a few days, maybe a week, and this will feel normal. you won't even notice him anymore.
you nod at your reflection in the mirror.
this will be okay. you almost believe it.
when you come out, wonbin is sitting on his bed, fully dressed in black jeans and a fitted long-sleeve shirt. his hair is styled now—pushed back from his forehead, exposing his eyebrows, his eyes. he looks clean. sharp. put together
he looks... different. you ignore the thought and focus on getting ready.
you dry your hair. do your skincare. pick out an outfit—cropped sweater, high-waisted jeans, platform sneakers. you check yourself in the mirror, adjusting your hair, your clothes.
in the reflection, you catch wonbin glancing at you. his eyes dart away every time you move, but he keeps looking back. like he can't help it. like you're a magnet and he's metal.
you don't say anything. neither does he.
the silence between you is thick. it is not uncomfortable. it's like something is hanging in the air that neither of you knows how to name.
finally, grabbing your bag, you say, "i'm heading out first."
wonbin looks up to you, "okay."
you pause at the door. something feels unfinished. you're roommates now. you should have some kind of... system. a way to communicate without being weird about it.
you turn back. "i left my number on the fridge."
wonbin blinks. "you did?"
"yeah. on a sticky note. you can text me there if anything happens. i don't want to talk to 'binnie' on kakaotalk." you say it lightly, a small smirk tugging at your lips as if teasing him like you're reminding him of his lie without actually being mad about it anymore. "brings back bad memories, you know?"
his ears go pink. he looks almost embarrassed. but there's a tiny smile there too. it's small. shy. endearing.
"noted," he says quietly. "no 'binnie.'"
"just wonbin is fine." you said and he nods with an embarrassed smile. "okay. just wonbin."
you hold up a finger. "about the dorm only, though." you add the last part firmly. "this isn't a friendship thing."
he nods slowly, his expression unreadable. but his eyes are soft. "dorm only."
you gesture to the refrigerator. "also, my class schedules are there. you can print yours and put it up too. so we know when the other is using the study desk. or the bathroom. or whatever."
wonbin gets up and walks to the kitchenette. his bare feet are quiet on the floor. sure enough, there's a pink sticky note on the refrigerator door with your number written in your handwriting.
he stares at it for a moment. longer than necessary.
"you have nice handwriting," he says quietly.
you blink. "what?"
"your handwriting. it's neat." he glances back at you, and his eyes are warm.
your face heats up. is he complimenting your handwriting? is that a thing people do?
"thanks?" you say. it comes out like a question and also a little breathless.
he just nods and turns back to the fridge, like he didn't just say something that made your stomach flip. but the corner of his mouth is turned up.
you shake your head, smiling despite yourself. "okay. well. text me if you need anything. print your schedule. good luck on your first day."
you open the door.
"good luck to you too," he says. his voice is soft. like he actually means it.
you leave without looking back. because if you look back, you might say something stupid. like "you have nice everything."
wonbin stands in the kitchenette for a moment, staring at the pink sticky note. he takes out his phone and saves your number. he types your name carefully.
three feet apart: not a friendship thing
⋆⋆⋆ sypnosis: what started as a desperate living situation slowly becomes something else entirely. some feelings refuse to stay on one side of the room, and the only thing harder than admitting them is pretending they don’t exist when you’re sleeping three feet apart every single night.
