On a flat stretch of grass by the water's edge, three figures are arranged. Y/n sits with a leather-bound sketchbook open on her lap, a piece of charcoal moving in quick, light strokes across the page. To her left, Pansy Parkinson lies on her stomach, propped on her elbows, idly flipping through a copy of Witch Weekly. To her right, Daphne Greengrass leans back on her hands, her face tilted up to catch the last of the day’s warmth.

Draco Malfoy leads the way, his pale hair bright in the sun. Behind him, Blaise Zabini walks with his hands in his pockets, and Theodore Nott is saying something low that makes Blaise smirk. Bringing up the rear, a half-step behind the others, is Mattheo Riddle.

His dark eyes sweep over the scene at the lake’s edge, pausing for a fraction of a second on the figure with the sketchbook before flicking away, fixing on a point somewhere over the water. His expression is carefully, perfectly blank.