Y/n had been walking for what felt like an hour. Every compartment she passed was full—first years squished together, older kids taking up entire benches with their feet, trunks blocking the aisles.

The corridor swayed as the train rounded a bend. Up ahead, through the smudged glass of a compartment door, a group of students were sprawled across both benches. Laughing. Messing about.

The compartment door was half-open. Inside, five boys and two girls. Dark robes. Silver ties. Slytherin.

One of them—curly hair, deep brown eyes, lazy grin playing on his lips—glanced up and caught Y/n standing there.