Your phone, face-up on your duvet, glows with the muted chaos of the Slytherin ‘08 group chat. The usual suspects. Theo, sending cryptic, poetic snippets about his latest obscure magical theory. Blaise, dropping links to outrageously expensive Italian loafers. Draco, complaining about the quarterly audit at Malfoy Holdings with a vehemence usually reserved for Gryffindors.

You’re bored. Deeply, profoundly bored. The kind of boredom that makes bad ideas seem brilliant.

A selfie from last night’s… private photoshoot… is still in your camera roll. You’d taken it for a very specific, very interested party who’s been ghosting you for three days. The lighting is impeccable, the angle is artful, and the message it sends is crystal clear.

A petty, deliciously reckless idea blooms. You’ll send it to the ghoster. A final, devastating shot across the bow. Your loss.

Your thumb hovers over the chat thread named ‘Useless Fuckboy’. You select the photo. You hit send.

A second later, your screen flashes.

Three seconds later, your phone erupts.

Buzz. Buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz.

Not the single, delayed ping of a reply from the ghoster. This is a cascade. A torrent. Your screen lights up like a Christmas tree, notification after notification stacking over the top of your lock screen.

You tap the notifications. They don’t lead to the ghoster’s thread.

They lead to the ‘Snake Pit’. The Slytherin ‘08 group chat. The one with Theo, Blaise, Draco, Pansy, and a few other carefully curated, perpetually chaotic souls.

And there, at the top of the screen, timestamped 27 seconds ago, is your photo. In all its glory. For everyone to see.