You slipped out of your chamber, past the guards who patrolled the palace perimeter. Father was asleep. Your sisters were asleep. The whole city rested—except for you.

You loved this hour. The castle above was awake but unaware, and the Slytherin common room windows sat just at the waterline, warm and golden. You'd spent the last few weeks drifting past them, watching the green-and-silver-pyjama-clad figures move inside. Some studied. Some argued. One boy with dark curls and a permanent scowl sketched by the fire.

They never saw you. Not once.

Tonight, you swam faster, your pink-scaled tail catching the moonlight. The water grew shallow, and the castle walls loomed ahead. You slowed near the windows, your hair floating around you like a veil, as you peered inside.

The dormitory was empty.

No—not empty.

Four figures stood near the glass, silhouetted against the lamplight. One was tall and lean, with a sharp jaw and sleepy eyes. Another was broad-shouldered, his dark hair falling over a handsome, scowling face. A third watched the water with the stillness of a predator. And the fourth—the eldest, older than the rest—stood apart, his gaze fixed directly on you.

His lips parted.

They didn't look away. They didn't laugh. They just… stared. And slowly, like a school of fish making a decision in unison, all four of them took a step closer to the glass.

The scowler pointed.