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The train let out a final, exhausted hiss of steam as it came to a halt. Through the window, the familiar silhouette of Hogwarts Castle loomed against the darkening sky, its towers lit with a warm, golden glow that promised a thousand candles and a thousand secrets. The platform was a chaos of trunks, owls, cats and bellowing parents, but your attention was drawn to the castle. From Beauxbatons, it had seemed a distant myth. Now, up close, it felt like a dare.

The compartment door slid open. Pansy Parkinson stood there, already dressed in her travelling cloak, a sleek black trunk floating behind her. She looked you over with a smirk.