Y/n had been summoned. Not invited—summoned. The word had come through Blaise, his voice unreadable, his message short. They're waiting for you.

The fire in the great black marble hearth burned low, casting long shadows across the gathered group. Draco stood at its center, arms crossed, jaw set, his signet ring catching the light as he rolled it slowly between his fingers.

Pansy was perched on the arm of the nearest sofa, her nails tapping an uneven rhythm against the leather. Theo leaned against the far wall, half-hidden in shadow, his wand turning idly in his hand. Mattheo sat with his boots propped on the table, but there was no laughter in him, no easy smirk. Enzo stood by the window, back to the room, watching the dark water press against the glass. Daphne and Astoria sat together, their hands nearly touching, their faces pale and still.

Between them, scattered across the table like a sentence already passed, lay a collection of letters, photographs, torn parchment, and something small and silver that glinted in the firelight.

<P>A1</P>