I'm so happy for the blessing from the artist 😭 (I'm not a good person to receive such blessing but I'm trying to be 😭)

Translation:

Sis, this is the result. Thank you so much for commissioning this to me and I hope the result meets your expectation and worth it. Thank you to entrust me and I learned a lot from this commision 😭 such an amazing experience, thank you so much again >< Keep spirit for writing fanfic ^^

Honestly, I don't know if I can publish it right on first day of May because I'm still dealing with trauma. But I'll try to publish it around May or first day of June 😢

What 6 fiancés think about Diana's character inspirations post? 🤭🤭

Sebastian Sallow: The Polyamory Panic Prince 🔥 “So you’re telling me... one of her inspirations is a woman who literally rules over a harem — with dignity and elegance?” He immediately spirals. Tries to pretend he's calm. Fails. Then whispers, “I’m not threatened, I’m honored. I’m her first Latrasil, right?”. Later that night, he tries to conjure a red velvet robe “fit for royal pillow duties.” It backfires. Ciel and Corvin find him tangled in it. Again.

Corvin Fawley: The Aesthetic Devotee 🎨 “Yennefer… of course. Beautiful, untouchable, terrifyingly brilliant. That’s why her collarbones have that shadow in morning light.” Immediately sketches all six inspirations side by side with Diana in the center — all versions of her from different realities. He titles it: “The One Who Carries the Forgotten Seasons.” Then forgets to breathe for three minutes. Laziel fans him with a mirror shard.

Laziel Crowhurst: The Jealous Regal Storm 🌕 “If I had known her heart held Yennefer, I would have studied her faster.” Refuses to comment on Latrasil. Says nothing about Padmé. But his quill snaps when he sees “Tohru Honda” and mutters, “Too gentle. She hides steel in softness. She’s more than kindness.” Later carves Yennefer’s rune into a silver brooch and quietly slips it into Diana’s drawer with a note: “For when you remember your own wrath.”

Ominis Gaunt: The Quietly Wrecked Philosopher 🖋 “…Yūko Ichihara is the kind of woman who speaks in riddles that only make sense after you’re emotionally destroyed. That tracks.” Stares at the 'Arcane Philosopher' tile for 20 minutes. “…I think I’m in love with her all over again.” Then proceeds to write six pages of nocturne-based spell theorems based on Diana’s pauses during breakfast. Accidentally blushes when he sees the word Yūko resembles Diana in his notes.

Garreth Weasley: The Emotional Support Firework 🎇 “Wait wait wait. She has Padmé in her heart too?? Does that mean I’m Anakin? WAIT — NO! NOT THE ENDING!” Panics. Makes fizzy cinnamon tea to calm himself. Then adds glitter. Then adds phoenix feather. Ends up in the Hospital Wing, sparkling, emotionally spiraling, writing in his diary: “If Diana is Padmé, I must be the laughter that shields her fate. And maybe… I’ll be her emergency confetti charm.”

Ciel Montrose: The Gentle Enchanter Who Notices Everything 🌊 “Tohru Honda… that’s the one no one expects. That’s the one that destroys you with warmth.” Ciel stares at the chart in silence for a long while, then softly smiles. “She’s the whole circle of love, isn’t she? Warrior, queen, healer… philosopher… even her pain is poetic.” Later, he plants six different flowers in the greenhouse, each representing one inspiration.

How the professors react to Diana’s “Six Pillars” Chart? 🤭

Professor Weasley: “Padmé. Tohru. Yūko... That explains why even the ghosts ask for her advice.” Then she straightens the parchment and whispers: “I knew it the moment she stepped into my office with those wide, haunted eyes. She wasn’t just a student. She was remembrance wearing robes.”

Professor Sharp: “Hmph. Yennefer, huh? That explains the attitude when she corrects my spellwork with poetry.” But he lingers too long near the chart. Traces the line under “She Who Remade Herself”. “She’s a storm in lace gloves.” Later scribbles in his journal: ‘Do not underestimate elegance. Or Hartwell.’

Professor Garlick: Gasps when she sees Tohru Honda and San. “Oh bless her thestral heart, she really is the blend of fierce and gentle! I knew the Venomous Tentacula calmed when she walked by wasn’t an accident!”

Professor Ronen: “Ah, yes. Yūko Ichihara... reminds me of a girl I knew in my youth. Scared the absolute nargles out of me. Hartwell’s got that same look. Makes you question your entire reality with one blink.” Then waves his wand and adds a glowing frame around the chart titled: “The One Who Glows Even in Stillness” Later tells his 3rd years: “Respect Miss Hartwell. Or risk being turned into metaphor.”

Professor Hecat: Sees San and snorts. “Of course she channels San. The only student who cast a Maxima version of Ventosomnus Lucida while whispering to a wounded hippogriff.” Then pauses at Latrasil. “Queen of a polyamorous circle, is she? Hmph. Bold girl. Good.” Eyes twinkle as she mutters: “About time someone redefined what strength looks like.”

Heat vs Ice | Impulse vs Restraint

Sebastian smirked, tugging at his collar after Diana left the room. "You wait too long, Crowhurst. One day she’ll fall asleep before you even kiss her."

Laziel calmly smoothed his silver cuff, golden eyes unblinking. "And yet I am the one who lingers in her dreams."

Sebastian leaned closer, voice low and teasing. "Dreams don’t leave marks on her neck, mate."

Laziel murmured, barely moving. "No. But they cradle her soul when yours burns too bright."

The class gathers around the creaking wardrobe. The air is thick with expectation, students whispering, the sound of muffled snow melting against the stone windows.

Professor Hecat’s voice slices through the hush. “Miss Hartwell. You’re next.”

Diana steps forward. Her wand glows faintly, the basilisk engraving shimmering along her forearm.

Her six fiancés stand among the onlookers — Sebastian’s jaw tense. Ominis’s hand gripping his wand too tightly. Garreth whispering, “She’ll be fine, right?” while Corvin murmurs, “She’s already trembling…”. Laziel, arms folded, watches with unreadable golden eyes. Ciel’s lips press thin, worried, quiet.

The wardrobe shakes once. Twice. When the latch bursts open, it doesn’t leap.

It unfolds The Endless Farewell

A soft silver-blue glow spills across the classroom, like a broken mirror showing six different futures at once. Diana’s eyes widen.

Sebastian is older. Laugh lines fading into weakness, his wand hand trembling as if the strength has fled.

Ominis, his hair ash-white, murmurs her name as though forgetting it mid-syllable.

Garreth’s freckles are pale ghosts on wrinkled skin, his once-boisterous voice only a rasp of her name.

Corvin’s hands, arthritic, can’t lift his paintbrush. His canvas blank.

Laziel’s golden gaze dims, half-lidded like candlelight fighting for breath.

Ciel, silver-haired and fading, still tries to smile through it all. Reaching for her hand.

And she— she is unchanged.

Seventeen. Unaged. Unbroken. Unblinking.

The same lavender scent, the same thestral-eyed girl in the mirror. Untouched as they crumble into dust.

The silence cracks. Diana falls to her knees, gasping. Her wand hand trembling as the basilisk carving crawls higher, alive with grief. “I don’t want to watch again—” she chokes. “Not again, not all of you.”

Sebastian takes a step forward, ignoring Hecat’s warning shout. “Diana!!” But the boggart turns its head. Sebastian's aged reflection whispers, “You will remember me when the stars forget our names.”

Ominis can hear her heart breaking. It’s louder than breath, louder than magic. “Riddikulus,” he whispers instinctively, his wand shaking, but it doesn’t work. It isn’t his fear.

Garreth can’t breathe. “She’s terrified of us dying,” he mutters hoarsely. “Not monsters. Not curses. Just… time.”

Corvin’s voice, fragile “It’s Velara again… she’s seeing it.”

Laziel steps forward, unflinching. “Let her face it.”

Ciel whispers, “No. Let her rewrite it.”

Riddikulus: Diana’s Way

Diana lifts her head. Her tears shimmer with light and shadow, the signature of grief flower. Her voice is trembling, but resolute.

“If time takes them…” she whispers, “it will bring them back to me.”

She raises her wand. No sharp flick, just a gentle sweep. Light blooms across the scene.

The six aged figures don’t vanish. They glow. Wrinkles dissolve into golden dust. Their forms dissolve into petals, each one whispering her name as they drift upward.

And where they fall, flowers bloom. Umbrafloris, silver and soft, luminous even under candlelight.

The boggart falters. The wardrobe snaps shut.

The classroom exhales.

For a moment, no one moves. Then Garreth wipes his face roughly. “I hate that boggart,” he mutters, voice cracking. “Utterly bloody hate it.”

Ominis’s voice is tight. “That wasn’t just fear. That was a memory bleeding through lifetimes.”

Corvin kneels beside her, quietly brushing his thumb under her eye. “You remembered the ending,” he murmurs. “But you forgot, you always begin again.”

Laziel kneels next, his golden gaze softening for once. “You’ve already changed the story. The immortal girl now has six anchors.”

Ciel squeezes her hand gently. “And we’ll age beside you, until even time gets jealous.”

Sebastian laughs wetly. “Riddikulus, indeed. Because no curse can outlast this kind of insanity.”

Professor Hecat clears her throat gruffly, eyes suspiciously shiny. “Ten points to Gryffindor, Miss Hartwell,” she mutters. “For making a boggart cry.”

The class laughs softly, tension breaking like dawn through mist.

But as Diana stands, brushing her hair back, a whisper curls around her ear — Immortality, chuckling low:

“Still afraid of eternity, my little reincarnate? Good. It means you haven’t grown numb.”

Her smile trembles. “Not numb,” she whispers back, almost smiling. “Just… human.”

---

Clock Tower Courtyard — Evening After the Boggart Lesson

Snow drifts melt along the clock face above, the last rays of sunset bleeding through the frost-stained arches. Students have long gone to dinner, but the courtyard holds seven figures still, the cold air trembling between them.

Diana stands near the fountain, cloak unbuttoned, hands clutching the balustrade as if she could stop time itself by holding still. Her reflection ripples in the frozen water — seventeen forever.

The basilisk engraving on her wand arm glimmers faintly, like something alive and restless beneath her skin.

The boys' silence

Sebastian is the first to speak. Or rather, to try. His voice catches before the first word makes it out. He looks at her as if afraid that even breathing might age him faster. “Diana…”

Ominis steps closer, quiet as snowfall. “It wasn’t just a boggart,” he says softly. “It showed the curse’s echo. The way Velara’s vow still clings to you.” His fingers tremble before he rests them lightly on hers. “That’s what you saw, yourself as the survivor again.”

Garreth exhales, angry at nothing and everything. “Bloody hell, Hecat had to let that thing out?!” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Could’ve been spiders. Or fanged books. But no, it had to be eternal heartbreak.”

Ciel gives a small, broken laugh. “She faced it beautifully.” His voice shakes. “And I hated every second of it.”

Corvin doesn’t speak. He just steps forward and presses something small into her palm, a folded parchment. A sketch.

It’s her boggart scene redrawn — but in his version, all six figures are holding her hands, aging and smiling. Their faces serene. The flowers blooming around them. He whispers, “This is how I saw it.”

Laziel’s golden eyes flicker, dimming with something unfamiliar — grief. “You fear eternity,” he murmurs. “But every soul here just saw proof that eternity fears you.” He reaches out, brushing her hair aside from her face with the back of his hand. “Because you make even forever want to weep.”

Diana Breaks

She tries to answer — to say she’s fine, to laugh it off. But her voice betrays her. “I just… don’t want to be the last one left again,” she whispers. Her hand tightens around Corvin’s sketch. “Not this time.”

Sebastian crosses the space in two strides and pulls her into his chest, holding her like she’s slipping through light. His words come out rough against her hair. “Then don’t be. We’re too stubborn to leave you alone. You’d have to hex all six of us into the grave first.”

Ominis presses his palm against her back. “And even then, you’d hear us,” he murmurs. “In every silence, every hum, every heartbeat you refuse to forget.”

Garreth leans against her other shoulder, sniffling with a forced grin. “We’re gonna be the most annoyingly immortal ghosts Hogwarts ever had.”

Ciel laughs wetly, burying his face against her hair. “We’ll haunt your teacups and steal your quills.”

Corvin’s hand joins theirs. “We’ll age, but you’ll never lose us, not really. You’ll paint us, write us, spell us into every dawn.”

Laziel kneels, resting his forehead lightly against her hand. A rare gesture of reverence. His voice is quiet, reverent. “And if you truly remain after the end, Diana… let that be your proof that love can outlast gods.”

The Embrace

It’s messy. Too many arms, too many tears, too much silence. The kind of silence that shakes.

Sebastian’s cloak half-wraps them all.

Garreth’s laughter hiccups into sobs.

Ominis murmurs soft grounding charms that don’t quite work.

Corvin’s hand still clutches her sketch.

Ciel whispers fragments of lullabies his mother used to sing.

Laziel’s hand tightens against hers, eyes half-lidded, emotion trembling in his throat like music refusing to die.

At the center — Diana’s shoulders rise and fall between them all, her voice breaking through their closeness:

“You make forever feel bearable.”

The clock above tolls once. Time moves again.

The basilisk engraving on her arm softens its glow, as if appeased.

And in the faint shimmer of magic gathering around them, Immortality whispers from nowhere and everywhere: