Nobody knew who organised the trip. Everyone had received the same invitation. ITALY. GRAND DINING HALL. 8 PM. FORMAL ATTIRE. That was it. No sender. No guest list. No explanation. Naturally, everyone came. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Draco, Pansy, Blaise, the Greengrass sisters, the Riddles, Lorenzo, Cormac and—because apparently death was optional now—Snape. Ron immediately decided it was a dark-magic sex club. A reasonable conclusion, obviously. Then the doors opened. A masked man in a cape entered. He reached the staircase. Attempted to glide. Fell. Cormac screamed, **“YEAH, MAN! HE LEARNED THAT FROM ME!”** The stranger began swearing furiously in Italian. Mattheo stared. “Oh, fuck off.” It was Theo. Of course it was Theo. And apparently he'd organised the entire thing. The holiday was already a disaster. They hadn't even had dinner.