THE ESSENCE OF TIME
~INSTINCTS AND INK~

•••

EVANGELINE HURRIED TOWARD TOM, who was already a few paces ahead, his long legs covering ground rapidly with her satchel dangling from his shoulder.

"Tom, wait!" she called out, but he ignored her, continuing on his way.

"Wow," she breathed once she caught up. "You walk fast." She reached for her satchel, but Tom swatted her hand away.

"Ow!" she mumbled, rubbing her hand.

"We need to hurry. Slughorn won't be happy if we're late," he said sternly.

Evangeline rolled her eyes and stared at the ground, muttering, "As if Slughorn would ever be mad at you."

"What was that?" he asked, glancing sideways.

"I said the sky looks really blue today," she quipped.

Tom shot her a glare. "It's been raining since we were in the infirmary."

Evangeline blinked, then quickly replied, "I'm colorblind."

Tom let out an exasperated sigh and resumed walking, his gaze fixed ahead.

"That was absolutely idiotic," he said.

Evangeline furrowed her brows, intrigued. "What was?"

"Jumping in front of that student. You should've let him get burned for his reckless behavior. It was his fault the crab got angry."

She opened her mouth to protest but was cut off by Tom. "Why did you do that, anyway?"

Evangeline paused, reflecting. It had become second nature for her to step in whenever she saw someone in danger. Memories of the war she had escaped flooded her mind—the stories Neville had told her during their seventh year at Hogwarts. The Carrows were ruthless, showing no mercy even to first-years. Neville had taken it upon himself to protect them, just as she had once done for him when older students bullied him.

She recalled shielding Luna from jinxes and standing up to Lucius Malfoy when he insulted Harry or Hermione. She even remembered punching Draco in their second year when he used the term "Mudblood."

"Lunaris." Tom's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Instinct," she replied.

Tom tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. "Instinct?"

Evangeline nodded.

"Well, your instinct is going to get you killed," he deadpanned.

She shrugged in response.

"How are you in Ravenclaw? What you did was the very definition of a Gryffindor's hero complex. They're brave but stupid," he sneered.

Evangeline scoffed. "I know plenty of brave Gryffindors who are smart."

"Like who?"

The question made her stop in her tracks, forcing Tom to do the same. The brave Gryffindors she knew hadn't even existed yet. She scrambled for a response.

"Uh—Albus Dumbledore!" she said, snapping her fingers and pointing at him. "That's a brave and smart Gryffindor."

Tom crossed his arms, skeptical but silent.

"And who else?" he prodded.

"What?"

"You said plenty of Gryffindors. You only named one."

"Um... Joan of Arc!" she smirked.

Tom looked baffled. "Joan of Arc?"

"Why, of course, Tom! Did you not know that Joan of Arc was a Gryffindor?"

No, Tom did not know. He didn't even know she was a witch.

"No, I wasn't aware," he said, irritation creeping into his voice. "And isn't she French? Why on earth would she attend Hogwarts and not Beauxbatons?"

"Have you seen Beauxbatons? They're all grace and beauty. Joan of Arc would never flaunt around throwing flower petals at her enemies," she rolled her eyes. "Besides, she did attend Beauxbatons but got expelled for stabbing her roommate's eye with a pencil or something."

She silently thanked Hermione for her extensive knowledge, especially after gifting her a book titled "Gryffindors of the Past and Their Achievements" during their third year.

Tom rolled his eyes.

"There you have it—a Gryffindor who is brave and smart," she laughed, resuming her walk.

"You only gave me two names. That isn't plenty, Lunaris," he replied, following her.

Evangeline lets out an irritated sigh. "Then you give me great Slytherins, Tom."

At the challenge, Tom smirked back. "For one, Merlin was a Slytherin. He's one of the most well-known wizards—so much so that even Muggles know his name. He displayed power that—"

Evangeline raised her hand. "I said give me names, not their discography."

Tom scowled. "Morgana Le Fay, Macbeth, Queen Elizabeth the First—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Evangeline interrupted, her eyes wide.

"What?"

"Macbeth?!"

Tom blinked, bewildered. "Yes?"

"He's a wizard?!"

"He was."

Evangeline let out a breath, holding her head in disbelief. "I need a breather."

Tom sighed, clearly annoyed. "I still proved that Gryffindors—"

"QUEEN ELIZABETH WAS A WITCH?!"

•••

After their small quarrel, silence enveloped them as they walked. Evangeline suddenly remembered her satchel was still on Tom's shoulder.

"I can carry my satchel, you know," she said, glancing at her bag.

"Girls would kill to be in your place, you know." Tom mocked.

"Girls that have no intellect," she muttered under her breath.

Tom sighed in irritation. "A thank you would be appreciated. Your burn would have been worse if I hadn't dragged you to Madam Pomfrey."

Evangeline pondered whether to thank him or continue the back-and-forth. She chose the latter.

"I didn't ask for your help." she smirks.

Tom halted, taking her satchel from his shoulder and dangling it just out of her reach. When she reached for it, he let go, and the bag hit the cobblestone floor with a thud.

Evangeline gasped, hearing the glass shatter inside. Ignoring Tom, she knelt to retrieve her satchel.

"Arsehole!" She yelled out to Tom who was walking away.

She opened it to find ink bottles shattered, their contents staining her textbooks and parchment.

"Ugh, I have no time for this," she groaned, grabbing her wand. "Repairo." The broken glass mended itself, but the ink stains remained.

Rushing down the corridor, she spotted Tom entering the Potions classroom just as he closed the door behind him. "Bitch." she muttered, hurrying after him.

As she reached the entrance, she flung the door open too forcefully, drawing the attention of everyone inside, including Tom, who stood still.

Evangeline cowered, quietly closing the door and muttering an apology.

Slughorn furrowed his brows at the pair. "Care to explain why both of you are five minutes late?"

Evangeline opened her mouth to answer, but Tom beat her to it. "I escorted Ms. Lunaris to the infirmary, professor. She was burnt by a fire crab during Care of Magical Creatures. Professor Kettleburn thought it best I stay with her while Madam Pomfrey healed her burns. I didn't expect it to take so long. Apologies."

Evangeline shot him a look of annoyance.

"Thank you for that chivalrous act, Tom! Five points to Slytherin!" Slughorn beamed.

Evangeline's confusion deepened. Favoritism was rampant in this school, and it should be a subject of its own.

"As for you, Ms. Lunaris, do you have a note?" Slughorn asked.

"What?" Evangeline replied.

"A note. Madam Pomfrey should have provided you with an excuse letter," he clarified.

Evangeline seethed internally. Snape never asked for a note when she was late; he just gave her detention. He also knew the infirmary was practically her second home.

Shoving her bandaged arm in front of him, she said, "Is this not proof enough, professor?"

Slughorn examined her arm before sighing. "I know you're telling the truth, Evangeline, but rules are rules. I need to see a letter."

"Isn't what he said enough?" she gestured toward Tom.

"Tom wasn't the one injured; he didn't need a letter. You, however, do."

"Are you kidding—ugh, fine, whatever." She rummaged through her bag, retrieving an empty piece of parchment. With a thought from her mind, words appeared on it, along with Madam Pomfrey's stamp. She smirked, handing it to Slughorn.

"Here you go, professor. Sorry for the ink mess—someone dropped my bag and made my ink bottles spill." She shot a glare at Tom.

Slughorn accepted the parchment, carefully avoiding the ink, and read it with a smile. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Evangeline forced a smile that Tom recognized as insincere. As Slughorn walked away, they took the opportunity to sit down.

"Madam Pomfrey didn't give you a letter," Tom said as soon as they sat.

"You left early and took my satchel, remember? She gave it to me once you left."

Tom remained silent.

"Thanks, by the way," Evangeline said, glancing sideways.

"Took you long enough—"

"For letting me borrow one of your ink bottles since you broke mine," she seethed, snatching the capped ink bottle he had placed on his side of the desk.

Tom opened his mouth to protest, but Slughorn began the lesson, cutting him off. Instead, he pinched her arm and pulled out his extra ink bottle.

•••

At dinner, Evangeline, Lysander, and Emily overheard an older Ravenclaw speaking.

"I'll start Quidditch tryouts this Saturday," he told his companion. The seventh-year was bulky, with messy brown hair and freckles, his honey-colored skin contrasting with his plump lips, which bore a small scar.

Evangeline turned back to her friends. "Quidditch tryouts?"

"Yeah, Quidditch—it's a sport—" Lysander began before Evangeline smacked him lightly on the head with a rolled-up Daily Prophet.

"I know what Quidditch means!" she snapped.

"Okay? What about it, you abusive woman?" he replied, rubbing his head.

"I want to try out."

Emily and Lysander exchanged looks, their expressions turning sympathetic.

"Girls can't try out," Emily said gently.

"What?" Evangeline's brows knitted in disbelief. "That's ridiculous."

"We know," Emily replied. "But you can't. They won't let you."

Evangeline glared at the seventh-year and muttered, "Not if I can help it."

"Don't waste your energy, Ange. They're stubborn. They won't let a girl on the team," Lysander said sadly.

"Oh, they'll let me in. Trust me." A smirk crossed her face as she stabbed her steak and shoved it into her mouth.

"What position are you even going to play?" Emily asked.

"Chaser."

"Good luck, Ange. Meadows, Willowby, and Bramwell are usually the chosen chasers. They've been since second year. I hate to say it, but they're really good," Lysander explained.

"I'm better," Evangeline said with a shrug.

"Evangeline, you haven't seen them fly—" Emily started, but Evangeline cut her off.

"I'm. Better."

The two friends froze at her declaration.

"Alright, we believe in you," Emily said, offering a smile, which Lysander echoed.

The trio continued their dinner, bantering and chattering into the night.