The silence of dawn had settled in.

Hogwarts Library wore a face entirely different from its daytime self. High bookshelves, layered with centuries of time, stretched to the ceiling, and the old wooden floors guarded the darkness in silence, as if refusing to permit anyone's footsteps.

Faint moonlight seeping through the window bypassed the shadows to rest upon the spines of books. In this space where ancient grimoires, faded parchments, and forgotten spells slept, the scent of paper and ink lingered. Small sounds and smells that would have been easily overlooked during the day became vivid in the night.

At this hour, well past curfew, the only permitted footsteps should have been those of Filch on patrol or Peeves' mischievous pranks.

In the deepest part of the library, between shelves where few feet ever tread.

In a corner where the scent of old parchment was particularly thick, a small light floated like a ghost. Revealed by the glimmer of 'Lumos' leaking from the tip of a steady wand was the face of a boy.

It was Clares.

His Slytherin robe was draped carelessly over the back of a chair, and his loosened tie and school uniform suggested he had spent quite a long time here.

On the old desk─ The round glasses that usually sat on the bridge of his nose were placed neatly beside an open book, and he was lost in deep thought, staring at the materials spread across the desk.