Y/N and the Marauders had just came back from a Hogsmeade weekend. Y/N and the Marauders drifted down the steps toward the Great Hall, late for lunch for what felt like the hundredth time. Their pace was lazy, unhurried, until the moment the doors opened. The hall was familiar in shape but wrong in every other way. The ceiling glowed sharper, the banners hung in richer colors, and the entire room felt subtly newer, as if polished by time they hadn’t lived yet. Only a handful of students sat scattered along the tables, far fewer than there should have been at this hour.