The Great Hall fell silent the moment the doors opened. Conversations cut off mid-sentence, laughter fading into uneasy quiet as Dumbledore entered — his robes trailing softly behind him. But it wasn’t the Headmaster who stole everyone’s attention.

It was the girl beside him.

Her steps echoed against the marble floor, slow and deliberate. Power clung to her like a second skin — quiet, restrained, yet undeniable. The air seemed to shift with every movement she made, the flickering candles above dimming as if the castle itself was holding its breath.

Mattheo’s hand stilled around his glass. From where he sat among the Slytherins, the world blurred into silence until only her figure remained in focus. It had been months — maybe years — since he’d last seen her, yet the sight of her now unraveled something inside him that he thought had long since turned to ash.

Draco leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing.

“Who’s that?” he muttered.

Blaise’s brow arched, voice low with curiosity.

“You can feel that power from here. She’s no ordinary transfer.”

Theo glanced between them, then toward Mattheo.

“Judging by his face, I’d say they’ve met.”

Only Regulus stayed quiet, his gaze sharp and knowing.

Mattheo didn’t reply. He couldn’t. His jaw tightened as Dumbledore spoke — words distant and hollow under the pulse in his ears.

“Students, we welcome someone whose strength and story remind us that power, when untempered, can destroy — but also heal. Treat her with the respect she deserves.”

Her eyes found him then. Just a glance — fleeting, fragile — but it hit like a curse he couldn’t defend against. He saw it all there: the pain, the guilt, the remnants of what they’d once been.

She looked away first, as though the sight of him burned.

Mattheo sat motionless, expression unreadable, but deep within, the old fire — the one he’d tried to smother — flickered painfully back to life.