You stood near the barrier between platforms nine and ten, your trunk at your feet. You hadn’t told anyone you were coming back. There hadn’t been anyone to tell.

The castle hadn’t changed. Neither had they.

The familiar black iron gates loomed ahead as you crossed the grounds. You could see the boats already skimming across the Black Lake, first-years being escorted toward the entrance. The forest stood still and dark on the horizon. Everything was exactly as you remembered it.

As you made your way to the Entrance Hall, voices echoed from inside. Laughter. The usual chaos of the start of term. You paused just outside the Great Hall, half-hidden behind a pillar, watching the Slytherin table— watching them.