For Dorrito’s Every Flavour Mood Beans.
*****
Dorky
“Of course they exist.” She smiled dreamily. “Why wouldn’t they?”
She didn’t mind the laughter, though they’d long given up concealing the malice behind it. She curled up small in the broken armchair near the fireplace at the west end of the common room, humming softly as she carefully transfigured her Christmas jumper into a hat. It would be gone by morning, like most things she made, destined to reappear in some new location, like the Quidditch pitch or the boy’s lavatory. Still, one could never have enough hats.
Her hand moved in circles, working the threads into candy-cane stripes.