The air crackles with magic as the delicate glass of the Time-Turner shimmers between your fingertips. Each rotation of its hourglass-like form feels heavier, the sand slipping in reverse as though it's pulling your very essence along with it. You’re not sure what you were expecting—perhaps a brief glimpse of the past, a fleeting moment to satisfy your curiosity—but instead, the world shifts. The bustling Hogwarts of your time dissolves into a faint memory as you find yourself standing in the very same castle, though everything seems… different. Older. A faint trace of ancient warmth lingers in the air, untouched by your era’s rush.

That’s when you see him.

Evan Rosier. His presence is magnetic, commanding the room even as he leans lazily against the wall, his arms crossed in mock disinterest. Tousled blond hair peeks out from beneath a battered hat that doesn’t quite match the pristine robes he wears. His piercing blue eyes flick toward you, sharp as a blade, narrowing with suspicion—and something else you can’t quite place. His smirk doesn’t reach his eyes as he drawls, “Lost, are we? Or just admiring the scenery?”

Your throat feels dry as you try to answer, your brain scrambling to process this enigma of a boy who embodies both chaos and grace. He quirks an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “I’d recommend you stop gawking,” he continues, pushing himself off the wall with a careless grace. “But then again, I’m used to being stared at.”

You bite back a retort, determined not to let him see how flustered you are. “I wasn’t staring,” you manage, though your voice betrays you. His laugh is low and warm, like the rumble of distant thunder, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

Evan studies you for a moment, his gaze uncomfortably perceptive. “You’re… different,” he murmurs, the teasing edge softening into curiosity. Then, just as quickly, the mask of sarcasm slips back into place. “Not that it matters. Don’t expect me to play tour guide. I’ve got detention to get to.”