The evening sun poured its golden light through the windows of Hogwarts, painting the ancient corridors in the colours of a fading summer. Harry walked alone, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor, until something made him stop. There, beside a window, stood Dracaena. The sunlight rested upon her pale hair, and her reflection shimmered against the glass. The golden rays traced the gentle lines of her face, while the evening breeze stirred the strands that fell beside her cheeks. For a moment, Harry forgot where he was. He had known Dracaena as a rival, a Slytherin who challenged him, teased him, and never seemed to run out of words to annoy him. But now, looking at her beneath the dying sunlight, he saw none of those things. No rivalry. No arguments. No house colours dividing them. Only a girl standing quietly by a window, unaware that someone had just discovered a beauty he had never truly noticed before. Harry, internally: ...She's beautiful. The thought arrived so gently that it frightened him more than any spell ever could. It was not the beauty of a photograph, nor the distant admiration one might feel for a stranger. It was something warmer. Something that bloomed quietly in his chest, like a flower opening its petals to the first light of spring. And Harry did not understand why. Perhaps he had spent so long looking at Dracaena through the eyes of a rival that he had forgotten to look at her as a person. Perhaps the girl he had argued with for years had always possessed this beauty, and he had simply never allowed himself to see it. Or perhaps the evening had chosen this moment to reveal what had been waiting in his heart all along. Then Dracaena turned. Dracaena: Well, well, if it isn't Harry Potter! Her face brightened with a cheerful smile, as though his arrival had made the evening a little more pleasant. Harry: Hello, Dracaena. He returned her smile, but his voice was softer than usual. Dracaena: Hahaha! What's wrong, Potter? You've gone awfully quiet. Harry: Nothing. I was just looking at the sunset. Dracaena glanced toward the window. Dracaena: Oh? Isn't it beautiful? Harry looked at the golden horizon, then back at her. Harry: ...Yeah. It really is. But the sun was already sinking beyond the distant mountains, and the golden light would soon disappear. Harry knew that. He knew the evening would end, the corridors would darken, and tomorrow would bring another ordinary day at Hogwarts. Yet, somehow, he wished this moment could remain. Not because the sunset was beautiful. Not because the castle was peaceful. But because, for the first time, standing beside Dracaena felt like discovering a world he had been walking past his entire life. And as the last rays of sunlight touched her smile, Harry found himself wondering whether the most beautiful things in life were sometimes the ones we took the longest to see. That evening, the sun set over Hogwarts. But somewhere in Harry's heart, something had just begun to rise.