Carlos sat in the quiet solitude of the Great Hall during breakfast, his plate barely touched. A few rays of sunlight streamed through the tall windows, catching the soft parchment of a letter he held in his hands. The handwriting was instantly recognisable- his younger sister, Ana, who had been homeschooled instead of attending Hogwarts.

He smoothed the letter out, his heart both heavy and eager to read her words.

Dear Carlitos,

It's so quiet here without you. I know it's usually quiet, but it feels different now. Even the garden seems still, like it's waiting for something. Do you remember how we used to sneak out there when the stars were brightest, and you'd say the moonlight made the lilies glow? I always thought you looked like a hero from one of Mamá's old stories then, even if you didn't feel like one.

How are you? Really? I know you'll probably just say, "Fine," like always, but I can tell when you're not. Mamá says you're doing well, but I'm not so sure. I keep thinking about the last time... you know, when the stars weren't kind to you. You came back to us looking like the world had taken a piece of you.

Did the stars hurt you again this time, Carlitos?

You don't have to answer. I know you won't. But I wish you would. It's hard, not knowing if you're okay. I keep hoping the next owl will be from you, saying something silly like, "Stop worrying, Ana." Even if it's a lie, it would be nice to hear.

Mamá has been... different lately. She doesn't smile as much, not even when I bring her tea the way she likes. I think it's because of Papá. He's been so quiet, even quieter than usual. Yesterday, I overheard them talking about selling the east field. You know what that means.

Please come home for the holidays. Even if you can't stay long, it would mean everything to us. To me. You're the glue holding us together, and when you're gone, everything feels like it's falling apart.

I'll stop now before this turns into a sad novel. But please, write back this time. Just a few words. Anything.

Love always,
Ana

P.S. Remember what you used to tell me about the stars? That no matter how far apart we were, we could still look at the same sky. I still look up every night, hoping you do too.

Carlos' fingers trembled as he folded the letter, his chest tight with a cocktail of emotions. The hidden metaphor about his last transformation, "The stars weren't kind," struck him like a blow. Only Ana knew how to word things so delicately yet painfully honest, hiding his truth in plain sight while expressing her worry.

He rubbed his temples, unable to push aside the image of his sister standing in their garden, staring at the sky and waiting for an answer that might never come. He felt the familiar build up behind his eyes, threatening to release any second.

"Hola," came a voice, jolting him from his thoughts.

Carlos looked up to see Oscar sitting down beside him, his sharp gaze flicking to the letter. "You've been staring at that thing like it's a howler."

Carlos quickly tucked the letter into his pocket. "It's just from mi hermana."

Oscar tilted his head. "You don't look too thrilled about it. Everything okay?"

Carlos hesitated, his first instinct to brush him off. But the concern in Oscar's eyes gave him pause. "She's... worried about me. I haven't written back in a while."

"Why not?" Oscar asked, genuinely curious.

"It's complicated," Carlos said, his voice tight. "She wouldn't understand."

Oscar snorted lightly. "She wrote you, didn't she? Sounds like she understands more than you give her credit for. Maybe she just wants to know you're alive and kicking. You don't have to spill your soul. Or do, it's your... hermana- sister? Sister of all people."

Carlos didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the table. After a long moment, Oscar added, "For what it's worth, I think you should write her back. She sounds like she really cares."

The words lingered long after Oscar left, and Carlos found himself staring out of the Great Hall window, wondering what Ana would think if she knew he was getting worse.

The Care of Magical Creatures class gathered on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a crisp breeze rustling the leaves as Professor Kettleburn waved his wand to create a wide, shimmering clearing. Students whispered among themselves, excitement buzzing in the air. Mooncalves were the subject of today's lesson, creatures rarely seen except under the light of a full moon.

"Today, we'll be observing mooncalves," he began, hsi tone calm but authoritative. "Since the full moon has passed, I'll use a temporary moonlight charm to simulate the proper conditions."

Carlos' stomach twisted at his words. He tightened his grip on the strap of his bag, glancing briefly at Oscar and Lando, who stood on either side of him.

It's not real, he reminded himself. It's just a spell.

Professor Kettleburn raised his wand, and with a graceful flick, a sphere of glowing white light appeared above them, casting a soft, silvery glow across the clearing. The fake moon hung in the sky, ethereal and hauntingly beautiful.

Carlos twitched, flinching away from the glowing orb, his heart racing as an inexplicable tension crawled up his spine. Though his mind knew the moon wasn't real, his body seemed to disagree. A faint, familiar itch pulsed under his skin, his muscles tightening as if responding to a phantom pull.

Lando noticed immediately. His gaze darted to Carlos, concern flickering in his eyes. "Carlos? You okay?"

"Sí," he answered, his voice clipped. He couldn't look at Lando. Instead, he shifted slightly, leaning closer to Oscar as if for support.

Oscar's brow furrowed as he caught the silent plea in Carlos' expression. Without saying a word, he stepped closer, subtly positioning himself between Carlos and the fake moonlight. His presence a shield, a quiet reassurance.

Professor Kettleburn continued his explanation, oblivious to the tension in Carlos' shoulders. "Mooncalves are gentle, nocturnal creatures known for their shy demeanor. Their link to the full moon is intrinsic to their behavior and their ability to perform their enchanting moonlit dances."

The first mooncalf appeared, cautiously stepping into the clearing. Its pale, smooth skin shimmered under the magical light, and its large, orb-like eyes blinked curiously at the students.

"Form small groups," the Professor instructed. "Approach slowly, and do not startle them. Observe their behavior and record your findings."

Carlos exhaled shakily, forcing himself to focus. He joined Oscar and Lando as they approached one of the mooncalves. The creature tilted its head, its luminous eyes locking onto Carlos immediately.

"Look at that," Lando said with a small smile. "It likes you already."

The mooncalf stepped closer to Carlos, its curiosity evident. Another followed, then another, until a small group of them surrounded him.

"Wow," Oscar muttered, half-amused, half-concerned. "You've got an audience."

Carlos stiffened, his unease growing as the mooncalves pressed closer. He could feel their fascination, their instinctual draw to something in him that even he didn't fully understand.

"It's like they know," he whispered under his breath.

Lando, crouched beside a particularly curious mooncalf, glanced up. "Know what?"

"Nothing," Carlos said quickly, his voice strained.

Oscar, sensing his growing discomfort, stepped in again. "Alright, alright, give him some space," he said, gently herding the mooncalves back a step. They hesitated but eventually complied, their wide eyes lingering on Carlos.

"You're like a mooncalf whisperer," Lando joked lightly, trying to ease the tension. "Maybe they just sense you're good with animals." Carlos forced a tight smile, though his heart wasn't in it.

As the lesson continued, Carlos's nerves gradually settled, helped by Ocsar's quiet support and Lando's oblivious, well-meaning attempts at humor. By the end of class, the mooncalves had dispersed, and the fake moonlight faded with a wave of Professor Kettleburn's wand.

Carlos let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The itch under his skin subsided, leaving only a dull ache of exhaustion.

"See? You survived," Oscar murmured as they walked back toward the castle.

"Barely," Carlos muttered.

"And guess what?," Oscar asked, his tone soft.

Carlos glanced at him, confused.

"Not sure if it was intentional or not, but you allowed me to help. Progress." Oscar clarified, his eyes steady.

For a moment, Carlos said nothing, the weight of the words sinking in. Then he nodded, a small, grateful gesture that spoke more than words could.

Behind them, Lando walked quietly, watching the exchange with a thoughtful expression. He didn't fully understand what had transpired, but something about the way Carlos had reacted- and the way Oscar had responded- stayed with him.

The late evening sun cast golden hues across the Gryffindor tower, its usual lively chatter replaced by the occasional rustle of parchment and the quiet crackle of the fire. Carlos sat in his bed, his injured shoulder still tightly bound. He tried to focus on the Charms essay in front of him, but his thoughts wandered.

A faint tapping broke his reverie. Glancing up, he saw a barn owl perched on the window ledge, a letter clutched tightly in its beak. Carlos' heart skipped as he recognised the familiar handwriting on the envelope: Blanca.

He hurried to the window, his shoulder twinging as he reached out to take the letter. The owl hooted softly before taking off into the evening sky. He stared at the envelope for a moment, the familiar weight of guilt and longing settling over him. With a deep breath, he opened it and began to read.

A mi hermano favorito,

I know it hasn't been long since my last letter, but I couldn't wait to write again. It feels strange, doesn't it? Being apart for so long. I suppose it's something I should be used to by now, but it never gets easier.

I wanted to check on you after...you know, last week. I know it was that time again. I haven't stopped thinking about it. You looked so pale and drained when I last saw you, that was ages ago now. Are you feeling better? I know you always say you're fine, but I can tell when you're not. You've always been strong, but it's okay to let someone in when things are hard.

Do you remember when we were younger, and we used to talk about the "storm?" That's what it felt like last week. A storm, tearing through and leaving everything quiet and strange in its wake. I couldn't help but feel helpless watching it from the sidelines. I wish I could be there with you, like we used to be, waiting for it to pass together.

Things at home have been... difficult. Madre has been quieter than usual. She tries to hide it, but I've caught her staring at your old room sometimes. I think she misses you more than she lets on. And Padre- well, he's still keeping himself busy, but even he can't hide how much he worries. They don't talk about it directly, but I can see it in the way they glance at each other when your name comes up.

There's something else. I debated whether to tell you, but I think you should know. Abuela's illness has grown worse. The Healers are doing what they can, but she's not improving. She asked about you the other day and said she missed your laugh. Maybe you could write to her when you have a chance.

I know you're dealing with so much already, but don't forget we're all here for you. Even if it's just me, writing letters you probably roll your eyes at half the time. You don't have to carry everything on your own, Carlos. You never did.

Write back when you can, okay? I miss you.

Love,
Blanca.

By the way, when is Lando going to visit? He's invited around for Christmas.

Carlos folded the letter carefully, his hands trembling slightly. His jaw tightened as he stared at the parchment, the words blurring in his mind. The mention of the "storm" brought back memories- late nights when he and Blanca would sit by the window during thunderstorms, whispering secrets they couldn't share with anyone else.

The ache in his shoulder seemed to deepen, but it wasn't just physical. His chest felt heavy, like a weight pressing down with every breath.

He leaned back, the letter still in his lap. For a moment, he let himself feel the pang of longing for home, for his sister's easy understanding and the warmth of family. But alongside it came the familiar guilt- he was different, no matter how hard they all tried, he would never truly be the same.

"Chili?"

He looked up to see Lando standing nearby, concern etched on his face. "You okay?"

Carlos hesitated before nodding. "Sí, just a letter from my sister. Nothing major."

Lando didn't look convinced but didn't push further. "If you need anything..."

"I know," Carlos said quietly, managing a small smile.

As Lando walked away, Carlos glanced back at the letter, tracing the familiar handwriting with his finger. For a fleeting moment, he thought about writing back, about telling Blanca everything. About telling Ana everything. Instead, he tucked the letter carefully into his bag, hoping it would be enough to carry her words with him.