Compartment after compartment of students—laughing, arguing, trading chocolate frog cards. The usual chaos of September first.

You'd almost forgotten what it felt like. The weight of a wand in your pocket. The smell of soot and sugar and teenage hormones all mashed together.

Almost.

Behind him, the compartment door slid open wider, and you caught a glimpse of dark curls, a pale hand flicking a lighter open and closed. The click-click-click of it filling the silence.

<Narrator>: The train lurched. Theodore grabbed the doorframe, steadying himself, then looked back at you with an arched brow.