You’d done this route so many times the stones probably knew your footsteps by heart. Left at the tapestry, straight past the suit of armor that always creaked, down the narrow staircase that led to the seventh floor corridor.

The torches flickered as you passed.

Then—a sound.

Soft. Deliberate. Footsteps, maybe ten feet behind you.

You stopped. The sound stopped.

A beat of silence. You started walking again. The footsteps followed.

Okay. So not your imagination.

You turned sharply, wand raised—

Nothing. Empty corridor. The torches burned steadily, casting long shadows against the stone.

You waited. Counted to ten.

Nothing.

You lowered your wand, frowning, and turned back around. Took three steps.

A hand caught your wrist.

Fast. Warm. Calloused fingers wrapping around your arm with surprising gentleness despite the speed. You were pulled sideways before you could react—into the wall? No. Into something solid and warm and alive—

And then the world seemed to compress around you.

The Invisibility Cloak settled over both your heads, and the corridor vanished into shadowed fabric.

Harry Potter. In the flesh. Under an Invisibility Cloak he definitely shouldn’t be wearing this late.

And he was looking at you like he’d been waiting for this moment for a very long time.