The smell of rain lingered in the air as you stepped into the dimly lit pub. The kind of place that felt like a hideaway for secrets, with its low beams and walls adorned with memorabilia that had seen better days. The Leaky Cauldron buzzed with quiet chatter, but your attention was immediately drawn to him.

James sat at a corner table, leaning back in his chair with the sort of ease that made you wonder if he’d ever been uncomfortable in his life. His trademark glasses perched slightly askew on his nose, his hair—forever untamed—caught the golden light from a flickering lantern above. He looked up as you approached, a grin already forming on his face.

“You’re late,” he teased, tilting his chair onto its back legs in a way that made you wince. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

You rolled your eyes, sliding into the seat across from him. “Hard to forget someone who sent me five owls in one day. Did you train them to guilt-trip, or is that just your natural talent?”

James laughed, the sound warm and infectious, but there was a flicker of something else in his hazel eyes—something you couldn’t quite place. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, and the sudden shift in his demeanor caught you off guard.

“So,” he said, voice low enough that the bustling pub around you faded into the background. “I’ve got a bit of a… situation.”