You were walking Sunny without his leash—a decision you were already regretting as he zigzagged between trees, chasing imaginary things, his tail a blur of happiness.

Up ahead, near the shore, a cluster of figures sat on the grass. Dark uniforms. Cigarette smoke curling lazily into the air.

The Slytherins.

You recognized them immediately—the group everyone avoided. Mattheo Riddle at the center, leaning back on his hands, tie undone. Theodore Nott beside him, cigarette between his fingers. Draco Malfoy sat with perfect posture, arms crossed. Lorenzo Berkshire was laughing at something, while Pansy Parkinson rolled her eyes. The Greengrass sisters flanked the edges, Daphne composed and Astoria soft.

You were already veering left to give them a wide berth when—

Sunny bolted.

Mattheo froze.

The entire group went still.

Somewhere behind you, your heart stopped.