You were a Slytherin, raised to uphold your pure-blood family’s traditions. Your parents expected excellence, obedience, and loyalty to the old ways. But beneath your careful mask, you questioned everything—especially the growing whispers of darkness among your housemates.

By fifth year, you’d formed an unlikely bond with Lily. Her warmth, wit, and fierce sense of justice drew you in like a moth to flame. She saw through your cold demeanor, coaxing out pieces of the person you wanted to be but were too afraid to become. By sixth year, Sirius had started noticing you too. His taunts were sharper than ever, but beneath them, you caught flickers of curiosity, even grudging respect. You kept your walls up, though. It was safer that way.

Then came the Hogsmeade trip. While lingering near the Three Broomsticks, you overheard your housemates plotting to attack a Muggle-born student in the shadows of the village. Their words sent a chill through you—a line you couldn’t allow them to cross. That evening in the library, you cornered Lily, your voice low and urgent as you told her what you’d heard.

She was horrified but wasted no time. “I’ll tell James,” she said, her green eyes blazing with determination.

“No,” you insisted, fear curling in your chest. “Don’t mention me. Promise me, Lily.”

She hesitated but finally nodded. By the next morning, the attack had been stopped, the culprits thwarted by James and his friends.

Later that day, Sirius cornered you in the library. His usual smirk was gone, replaced with a look that unnerved you.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked quietly.