Should Be A Happy Day pv

Notes Reducio 1) banner by the incredible Livia Machavariani 2) whoo!

Word Count Reducio 740 ish

Date Reducio October 6th 2026

Mentioning: Reducio @Tina Carilla

Dido hadn’t really managed to celebrate her birthday properly since she had turned nine and, even before that, the special days had an awkward tendency to coincide with other engagements or poor luck. When she had turned five, her mother’s shawl somehow managed to catch fire, just as the rest of Dido’s family were setting themselves up for blowing out the candles on her cat-themed cake (at the suggestion of adding a small chocolate model of Terrie, the family parrot, to the cake, Dido had adamantly refused, likely because of the still healing nip on her finger from a week before). When she was seven, like most of the muggle-born students in the second year cohort, COVID got in the way and, of course, the party was done via a zoom call. When she turned ten, she and her friends had managed to perfectly line up their “falling out” for the day before. Then, in Hogwarts for her first year, she elected not to mention it in the fear of seeming too pushy. Chances were, no one actually knew Dido’s birthday except from Ti- except from the occasional person she had mentioned it to later in the year. Like Angel.

So, on the sixth of October, Dido woke up like usual, pulling herself out of bed with an almighty yawn, still craving the duvet’s warmth. Then, without much fuss, she headed down to breakfast, having her usual cereal and fruit as well as an extra celebratory caramel chocolate (something she was running out of a lot faster this time, having not had the bonus from her mother’s secret packing like the year before). Luck finally turning in her favour, morning classes ended up being a breeze, consisting of flying and only a little bit of spell learning- something she was getting increasingly better at with all her practise. By lunchtime, though her arms ached from clutching the front of a broomstick so tightly, she was filled with a kind of satisfaction that flowed through her stomach and chest, warming her with a pleasant sensation of pride. Though that could have been hunger.

She was just heading into the great hall, which was still a room that took her breath away, if only because of the sudden warmth as Dido left the draughty corridors, when her walk suddenly stilled. All at once, she was on high alert. Her breathing shifted into a faster pace full of light, sharp inhales and shaky exhales as her body tensed, filled with a new, less joyful feeling that weighed down rather than lifting. With a little hesitation, Dido took a step forwards, nervously peering around at the mass of uniforms surrounding her for someone something that could have triggered her wariness. Which wasn’t fear. Just thought-out, elegant, care.

Dido shivered, perhaps from some residual draught in the great hall. To her left, a girl was stepping away. She had dark hair in a long braid and-

“Here,” came a voice, almost a whisper, from Dido’s right. Recognising the familiar cadences, Dido spun towards Tina on her right, an instinctual grin forming on her face which faded quickly into a well-trained aversion of eyesight as she caught a glimpse of Tina’s similarly solemn expression. Dido fought to keep her gaze from rushing to the Ravenclaw’s face and, pressing her fingers into a tight fist against her palm, fought even harder not to reach out to the girl. A new tightness formed in her throat, holding back the once indulged attempts to prove their friendship with the requisite expressions of support.

“Happy birthday,” Tina continued, words clipped with bitterness as she passed over a small box. Letting the incurably optimistic urge overcome her, Dido let her brown eyes find Tina’s own, praying for a sign of something- anything- which dulled the sharpness of her voice. Dido’s cheeks coloured when she found nothing so obvious. Seemingly finished with the conversation, the Ravenclaw turned and Dido twisted her hands together around the box, anxious not to let them move in comfort or in anger. She had learnt that lesson already. Unlike her hands, words could not be held back by the girl’s physical attempts, or the cage of silence that had washed over her breathing.

“Tina, I-“

Dido cut the rest of the sentence off. What would she have even said anyway?

Instead, she looked away, not down, directing her face towards the Slytherin table, though, in truth, she wasn’t really watching it.