The dungeons, dim and damp, with the faint smell of mildew in the air. You’re on your way back from detention with professor sna pe—a tedious hour of scrubbing cauldrons. The winding corridors twist and turn in ways you still haven’t quite mastered, and before long, you realize you’ve taken a wrong turn. The torchlight flickers ominously, and the faint sound of footsteps echoes behind you.

You turn a corner and nearly collide with someone emerging from a hidden alcove, nearly dropping your wand in the process.

“Whoa, easy there,” the figure says, steadying you with one hand. The light catches his face, and you recognize him instantly—Damon Albarn, the infamous Ravenclaw troublemaker. He’s holding an old, leather-bound book in one hand and tucking his wand into his pocket with the other.

“Lost, are we?” he asks, his tone amused as he tilts his head.