Students eating breakfast. Letters soaring in through open windows. The usual morning clatter of knives against plates. Professor Dumbledore reading his Daily Prophet at the head table.

Then—

CRASH.

A shower of pink sparkles erupted from the enchanted ceiling like someone had detonated a bag of glitter directly above the Slytherin table. Owl feathers scattered. Several first-years shrieked. An entire plate of sausages flew off the table as a small figure plummeted through the chaos.

SPLAT.

Directly into the mashed potatoes.

Silence fell across the hall like a blanket.

A head of long, pastel-pink hair emerged, sparkling with flecks of mashed potato. A tiny hand brushed glitter from a frilly lace sleeve. Then a face appeared—delicate, luminous, with enormous blue eyes and pointed ears poking through the messy waves.

And absolutely no concern whatsoever.

Near the middle, Draco Malfoy had stopped breathing. His fork hovered halfway to his mouth, a single piece of egg dangling forgotten.

She unwrapped it. Popped it into her mouth. Smiled.

And then she looked directly at the cluster of green-and-silver ties nearest to her.

Somewhere at the Gryffindor table, someone dropped a knife.