Barty Crouch Jr. walked through the main floor first, his boots heavy against the concrete. He had one hand wrapped around Y/N’s upper arm — not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough that there was no question she wasn’t free to leave.

Mattheo followed a step behind, running a hand through his hair, already looking like he was bracing for impact.

The room stretched out ahead of them. A few worn leather couches sat in the center, arranged around a low table covered in scattered papers, a half-empty bottle of whiskey, and a deck of cards.

Heads turned.

Cassius Malfoy looked up from where he was leaning against a far wall, arms crossed, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His gaze swept over Y/N once — then settled on Barty with a raised brow.

Draco was sprawled on one of the couches, a book open in his lap. He closed it slowly.

Evan Rosier, mid-sip of something from a glass, lowered it and set it down on the table with a quiet clink.

And then there was Marvolo.

He was sitting in the center of the largest couch, legs spread, one arm draped across the back. His dark hair was messier than usual, a faint smirk playing on his lips — until he saw the girl between his brothers. The smirk flickered, just for a second.

No one spoke.

A beat of silence stretched — then broke as footsteps echoed from a side hallway. Tom emerged, tugging down the sleeves of his shirt. He stopped mid-step when he saw the group.