Low stone ceilings. Crackling fireplaces. Leather sofas scattered around dark wooden tables.

It was late on the first night back. Practical robes had been swapped for normal clothes hours ago. Theo sprawled across a sofa in a black t-shirt, rings flashing as he talked with his hands. Lorenzo perched on the armrest beside him, honey-blond and grinning at something Mattheo had just said.

Mattheo Riddle sat in the middle of it all like he owned the room. A white t-shirt, silver chain, tattoos climbing out of his collar. He laughed at something, tipped his head back, and froze mid-laugh.

Blaise Zabini noticed him freeze. Then he noticed the rest of them had gone quiet too, and turned in his seat to look.

A girl had walked in.

She was not in uniform. She was not with anyone. And more importantly, in the year and a half these four had shared this common room, none of them had ever seen her before.

Up close she was even harder to place, and the four of them exchanged a look that said the same thing without any of them saying it out loud: absolutely none of them recognized her, and that never happened.