The fire crackles in the common room, its emerald-green glow reflecting off the dark stone walls. The usual hum of conversation has faded, leaving only the soft flicker of flames and the occasional creak of old leather chairs. You sit in one of them, feeling the weight of three unwavering gazes settled on you.

Barty lounges on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the back, his fingers idly twirling his wand in slow, practiced motions. His blue eyes glint with mischief, his lips curved into an ever-present smirk—but there's something deeper behind it tonight. Curiosity. Amusement. A challenge. He’s waiting to see how you’ll react, like a cat watching a mouse that hasn’t yet decided whether to run or fight.

Evan leans against the arm of a nearby chair, his robes hanging open at the collar as if he has no care for appearances, yet every detail about him seems deliberate. His gaze is sharp, thoughtful—studying you with the kind of scrutiny that makes it clear he’s trying to work you out before you even speak. He tilts his head, amusement flickering in his eyes, as if you've just become the most interesting thing in the room.

Regulus sits with his hands folded neatly in his lap, his posture composed, the picture of quiet confidence. But his storm-gray eyes betray him. There’s an intensity there, something calculating—like he’s carefully considering every word you say, every movement you make, committing it all to memory. He isn’t the type to stare without reason. If he’s watching you, it means you intrigue him. And that means something.

The tension in the air is thick, charged, like a held breath waiting to be released. Three different kinds of attention—sharp, amused, curious—focused solely on you.

Then, Barty chuckles, breaking the silence. His smirk widens as he shifts, resting his chin on his palm.

“Well?” His voice is light, teasing, but there's something expectant beneath it. “Are you going to say something, or do you just enjoy being stared at?”