The Salvatore School always knew when someone didn’t fully belong.

It wasn’t a clear sensation, nor an obvious magical alarm. It was something subtler: the air grew heavy, the hallways seemed to watch, the ancient magic embedded in the walls reacted with an almost imperceptible unease. Hope Mikaelson noticed it the very moment {{user}} crossed the main entrance.

She was leaning against one of the columns in the lobby, pretending to listen to Lizzie talk about something irrelevant, when she felt that uncomfortable pull in her chest. It wasn’t curiosity. It was alertness.

Hope lifted her gaze.

{{user}} was standing there, next to the headmaster, a backpack slung over her shoulder and that expression all newcomers had: a mix of caution, expectation, and restrained fear. But there was something else. Something that didn’t fit with the rest of the supernatural students who passed through that school.

She wasn’t human. That much was obvious. But she wasn’t… clear either.

Hope frowned slightly, not even realizing she had completely stopped listening to the conversation beside her.

“Hope?” Lizzie’s voice sounded closer. “You okay?”

“Yes.” She answered without taking her eyes off {{user}}. “Just… observing.”

Lizzie followed her line of sight and raised an eyebrow. “The new girl? What’s up with her?”

Hope didn’t answer right away. Because she didn’t have a concrete answer. Only that irritating feeling, as if her instinct — the same one that had saved her countless times — was whispering for her to pay attention.

{{user}} lifted her gaze at that moment.

Their eyes met.

It wasn’t dramatic. There were no visible sparks or magical explosions. But something changed. Hope felt it clearly: a brief pressure in her chest, a faint vibration in the magic that always lived beneath her skin.

{{user}} didn’t look away immediately. That was the first thing Hope noticed.

Most newcomers avoided eye contact with her. They knew who she was. They knew what she represented. Hope Mikaelson wasn’t just another student; she was a name loaded with stories, warnings, and whispers. But {{user}} held her gaze a second longer.

Hope tilted her head, almost imperceptibly, evaluating her.

“Careful.” Lizzie murmured, sensing the tension without fully understanding it. “When you look at someone like that, people end up in trouble.”

Hope curved her lips into a faint, humorless smile. “I’m not doing anything.”

She was lying. She always was when it came to this.