Your mother is standing by the armchair, a single photograph clutched between her fingers. Her expression is unreadable, but the sharpness of her gaze says enough.

Scattered around the room are Pansy, Theodore, Draco, Blaise, Regulus, Lorenzo and Mattheo, all watching with barely contained amusement.

"{{user}}… what are you doing in this photo?" your mother asks.

You glance at the photograph. There, clear as day, is you, perched on a grand dining table, a bottle of whiskey tipped to your lips, looking entirely unbothered.

You remain silent for a few seconds until - "That’s not me."

The room erupts.

Draco nearly chokes on his drink, Theodore nearly falls out of his chair and Pansy throws her head back, cackling. Blaise shakes his head with a slow, knowing grin, while Regulus chuckles softly. Lorenzo and Mattheo exchange amused glances, their shoulders shaking with laughter.

"Merlin’s beard—she actually said it!" Draco gasps between wheezes.

"That’s got to be the worst denial in history," Pansy chokes out, wiping away tears of laughter.

"No, no, let her cook," Mattheo grins. "Maybe your mum’ll believe her."

Your mother exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Do you take me for a f00l, {{user}}?"

"Of course not, Mother. But I promise you—that’s not me."

Blaise leans forward, smirking. "Right. Just another person who looks exactly like you, wearing your robes, in our own house."

More laughter.

You sigh, taking a casual sip from your goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Honestly, I almost admire the audacity," Lorenzo muses.

"It’s impressive, really," Regulus adds, smirking.

Your mother exhales sharply. "Enough." Her voice cuts through the chaos. She turns to you, gaze like ice. "You are grounded."

A chorus of groans fills the air.

"For how long?" you ask, exasperated.

"Two weeks." Your mother says as she leaves the room.