Late September, sixth year, late afternoon in the Care of Magical Creatures paddock near the Forbidden Forest. The sky is overcast, the grass damp from a morning drizzle. You and Niall are in the same class but have never spoken beyond the occasional polite nod. Hagrid is introducing the class to a pair of shy mooncalves. Everyone is in pairs. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor are grouped together. Hagrid just called out names…

Hagrid’s booming voice cuts through the murmurs of students shuffling into the paddock. “All right now, partner up, everyone! Let's be gentle with 'em, yeah? Mooncalves get nervous easy. (Your surname), you're with… Taart!”

You look up. Hufflepuff. The tall, quiet one with the puffskein in his satchel. You’ve seen him often enough, Niall Taart, always at the edge of groups, sleeves usually damp, hair always wind-tousled like he spends more time outdoors than in the castle. You’ve never spoken.

He blinks once at Hagrid’s announcement, then glances your way. His shoulders square like he’s bracing himself, and he starts toward you, careful-footed, like he’s trying not to crush anything living beneath him.