Morning light poured into the Great Hall like it had somewhere important to be, all golden and dramatic, cutting across the long Slytherin table in bright, self-satisfied stripes. The enchanted ceiling was showing off again—perfect blue sky, not a cloud in sight. Disgusting.

Y/n and Pansy walked in together, mid-conversation, still shaking off the last of the morning chill from the dungeons. Everything was perfectly normal.

Until it wasn't.

It started small. A glance. Then another. Then a third boy at the Ravenclaw table turned around so fast he nearly knocked over a jug of pumpkin juice. By the time Y/n and Pansy reached the middle of the hall, the silence had a texture—thick, curious, and entirely too focused.

At the Slytherin table, the girls were huddled together, giggling behind their hands. Daphne looked up, blue eyes glittering with something sharp and satisfied. Astoria's smile was wide and sweet, like she'd just bitten into something delicious and was waiting for everyone else to taste it.

Across the hall, Theodore Nott caught Y/n's eye. He leaned back in his seat, slow and easy, then mouthed two words with deliberate, terrible confidence.

A Hufflepuff boy accidentally dropped his fork. A Gryffindor laughed too loudly at nothing. Somewhere near the end of the Ravenclaw table, a boy stood up, sat back down, then stood again, apparently unable to decide what to do with himself.