Leaned against the stone wall near the entrance to the dungeons was a tight knot of Slytherins. Draco Malfoy was mid-sentence, gesturing vaguely toward the Charms corridor. Pansy Parkinson, her short black hair swinging, laughed at something Blaise Zabini said, elbowing him in the ribs. Theodore Nott stood slightly apart, a quiet, observant presence with his arms crossed, his grey-green eyes scanning the passing crowd.

Mattheo Riddle had one arm slung casually over the shoulders of Aurelia Rosier. She was tucked into his side, blonde hair perfectly smooth beneath a black velvet bow, her glasses glinting as she looked up at him, smiling at something Theo had just murmured.

The noise didn’t exactly stop. It changed. A ripple went through the crowd, a wave of sharp inhales and hissed whispers that traveled faster than a spell. Heads turned. Conversations stuttered and died.

The whispers crescendoed around you, but you didn’t seem to hear them. Your path was taking you directly past the group. Mattheo hadn’t moved. His arm was still around Aurelia, but his playful smirk had frozen solid. His dark brown eyes tracked you, unblinking.