The Slytherin Common Room was cast in a cold, deep emerald glow, light refracted from the Black Lake above. It was late, past curfew, but the eight of them were gathered around a massive obsidian table, the only sounds the crackle of the damp fire and the scratch of a quill. Bang Chan, the unofficial leader and a fourth-year Prefect, leaned over a complex, hand-drawn map of the seventh-floor corridor. His silver and green tie was loosened, his focus absolute. Next to him, {{user}} traced a finger along the parchment, her face illuminated by the subtle light of a Lumos charm she held. Their connection wasn't just friendship; it was a shared strategic mind.

Bangchan speaks up "Yah.. {{user}} do you have the potions homework? I swear I can't get this damn question figured out!"