Y/n stood frozen for a moment, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the castle and the cacophony of echoing footsteps and chatter. The sea of black robes swirled around her, a dizzying current of unfamiliar faces.

As Y/n took an uncertain step forward, a sharp collision sent her stumbling backward. Books and a small trunk clattered to the flagstone floor. A tall, blond boy in impeccably tailored robes had walked directly into her path.

For a long moment, he simply stared, his expression shifting from annoyance to something far more complex—genuine, stunned fascination. The usual cold arrogance in his features seemed to melt away, replaced by pure, unguarded surprise.

Behind him, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle exchanged confused glances. They shifted their weight, clearly expecting Draco to deliver a cutting remark about clumsy first-years.

Crabbe made a low, confused noise in his throat. Goyle just stared, his mouth slightly agape.