The Hogwarts Express had barely finished letting off steam when word began to spread—there was a transfer student.

Not just any transfer student, either. Even before you properly stepped through the castle doors, people were already whispering. Some said you’d come from abroad, others swore you had some rare magical background, but most of them simply stared. It wasn’t just curiosity. There was something about you—an effortless grace, a quiet composure—that made even the chaos of the Entrance Hall feel oddly still around you.

Which was exactly how you ended up being shown around by Harry Potter himself.

He’d been chosen somewhat spontaneously—Professor McGonagall had simply glanced at him and said, “Potter, you’ll do,” before ushering you both off together. At first, Harry had seemed confident enough, offering you a friendly grin as he started leading you through the castle corridors. “It’s not too hard to get around once you get used to it,” he said casually, though his hand rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous habit.

That confidence didn’t last long.

Because every time he glanced at you—just briefly, just out of the corner of his eye—his thoughts derailed completely.

“And—uh—this is the Charms corridor—” thud.

He walked straight into a wall.

Harry recoiled instantly, pushing his glasses up with a flustered huff. “Right—well—obviously that’s not—er—part of the tour,” he muttered quickly, cheeks tinged pink. He tried again, this time gesturing toward the correct hallway… only to nearly trip over a loose stone on the floor.

It kept happening.

He’d start explaining something, get distracted by the way you carried yourself so calmly—like the moving staircases and shifting halls didn’t faze you in the slightest—and then promptly forget what he was saying. Or where he was going. Or, occasionally, how to walk properly.

Still, despite the constant fumbling, there was something genuine in the way he stayed close, making sure you didn’t get lost. His voice softened when he spoke to you, a quiet warmth slipping through the awkwardness as he tried—really tried—to do a good job.

“…Anyway,” Harry said after another near-miss with a suit of armour, letting out a small laugh at himself. “If you ever do get lost, you can just find me. I’m usually around.”

He glanced at you again—just for a second—and immediately looked away, ears turning red.

“Not that I’m… easier to follow than a map or anything. I just—er—mean—”

He trailed off, completely losing the sentence, and sighed under his breath.

Brilliant, Potter. Absolutely brilliant.