Pandora brings him without asking. You notice her first—the way her eyes flick up from her plate, sharp and thoughtful, tracking movement where no one else seems to care. Then you see him standing there, just behind her shoulder, holding his tray like it weighs more than it should. Remus Lupin looks… wrong. Not injured, exactly, but altered. As if something has been taken from him and not properly replaced.

Pandora sets her goblet down with deliberate care as the other students in the great hall watch with interest. A silent question ringing. Why is Remus Lupin not with the marauders?

“He’s sitting with us,” she says pleasantly, as though announcing the weather.

Evan chokes on his drink. Dorcas goes still. Regulus’s spine straightens beside you, the air shifting so subtly you almost miss it. Barty cackles madly.

Remus opens his mouth. Closes it. Thinks better of whatever he was about to say. “You don’t have to,” he murmurs.

Pandora smiles at him—soft, unreadable. “I do.” She pulls out the bench opposite you and nudges it with her foot.

“Well,” Evan drawls, breaking the silence, “this is either the start of a tragedy or a very boring breakfast.” Dorcas shoots him a look. “Eat.”