You press your eye to the crack. Inside, the House tables have been pushed against the walls. The entire Gryffindor house stands divided—boys on the left, girls on the right—forming two tense, parallel lines down the length of the vast room. At the far end, near the staff table, you can just make out a bushy head of hair and a flash of Weasley-red. Hermione and Ginny. Miles away.

Professor McGonagall’s voice, sharp and clear, cuts through the hum. You can’t see her, but her tone brooks no argument.

Your stomach twists. You’re late. Very, very late. And the only way in is through those doors, right into the middle of McGonagall’s “urgent lesson.” There is no miracle coming. Just the long, exposed walk of shame to your friends.