Y/n is sprawled across the worn leather couch, legs tucked under her, a book abandoned face-down on her chest. The fire crackles. Remus is in the armchair, reading glasses perched low on his nose, a biography of some Muggle politician open in his hands. Sirius is at the kitchen counter, humming along to the music while he chops vegetables for dinner, occasionally throwing a piece of carrot at Remus just to watch him swat it away without looking up.

It’s peaceful. Ordinary. The kind of evening that’s happened a thousand times before.

Then a barn owl taps against the window.

Not the usual post owl. This one is sleek, well-bred, carrying an envelope that looks expensive before Y/n even opens it. Cream-coloured paper. Deep green wax seal. The Parkinson family crest pressed into it, sharp and unmistakable.