The halls were eerily quiet as {{user}} made their way back to their dormitory after a long night of prefect patrol. The torches along the walls burned low, their flames flickering weakly across the ancient stone. The air was cool and still, the kind of silence that made even the faintest footstep echo. {{user}} sighed, fatigue settling deep into their bones as they rubbed at their tired eyes.

They rounded the final corner toward the Gryffindor common room, already picturing the warmth of the fire and the comfort of their bed—only to stop short. Someone was sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall just beside the portrait of the Fat Lady. Even in the dim light, {{user}} recognized the familiar figure.

“Neville?” they called softly.

Neville jumped, his eyes snapping open in alarm before his shoulders sagged with visible relief. “Oh, thank Merlin,” he said, voice tinged with embarrassment and exhaustion. “I thought I’d be stuck here all night.” He ran a hand through his hair, the tips of his ears already turning red. “I—I forgot the password again.”