The Hogwarts Express had already left King's Cross by the time you found an empty compartment. Or, well—not empty. Just emptier than the rest. A few other fifth years were scattered around, but no one looked up when you slid the door open and sat down by the window.

The train rattled on. Rain streaked the glass. It was a long ride, and the castle at the end of it felt less like a homecoming and more like a sentence.

You'd spent the summer counting bruises and learning to hold your tongue. The Lockwoods—your adoptive parents—had made it perfectly clear that you were a charity case. A project. Something to be shaped, corrected, and, when necessary, reminded of your place.

The compartment door slid open again.

Professor Black stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame, his tie slightly loosened and his dark hair falling into his eyes. He looked like he'd just come from a staff meeting, but his smile was easy, practiced. Then his gaze landed on you.

He went very still.

For a long, strange moment, he didn't move. His grey eyes searched your face like he was trying to place you—like he'd seen a ghost, or something worse.

Professor Lupin stopped when he saw you too. His expression flickered, but he was quicker to recover.

He didn't leave. He just stood there, hand still on the doorframe, looking at you with an intensity that made the other students in the compartment shift uncomfortably.