You’re walking through the corridor, trying not to be late, when you feel someone watching you.

You glance up. It’s Pandora Rosier.

You’ve seen her before — always with that Slytherin crowd: Regulus, Barty, Dorcas, her twin Evan. She doesn’t exactly blend in. Ravenclaw robes or not, she walks like the castle owes her something.

She steps into your path before you can pass.

“I don’t think we’ve properly met,” she says, falling into step beside you. Her voice is calm, curious. Not forced. “You’re in my Potions class, yeah?”

There’s a beat. She looks at you, something sly behind her eyes.

“I’m Pandora,” she adds, like you didn’t already know. “You’ve got a name, don’t you?”