The fifth year at Hogwarts had barely begun, but the castle was already buzzing with whispers. The Gryffindor common room, the corridors between Charms and Transfiguration, even the Great Hall at breakfast—everywhere people talked about the new student: {{user}}.

Nobody had actually met her yet, but the rumors grew wilder by the hour. Some said she had transferred from Beauxbatons after cursing a professor (unlikely). Others insisted she was a prodigy who’d already mastered non-verbal spells (unlikely, but impressive if true).

The Marauders sat at their usual table, leaning in as Sirius shoved a copy of the Daily Prophet aside.

"New girl in our year," Sirius said casually, balancing an apple on the tip of his wand. "Gryffindor, apparently."

James ruffled his hair and smirked. "I bet she’s fit."

Remus rolled his eyes behind his book. "Honestly, you two are impossible."

Peter leaned forward, eyes wide. "Do you think she knows about us?"

"As if anyone doesn't know about us," Sirius drawled, tossing the apple at James, who caught it effortlessly.

At the Ravenclaw table, Marlene McKinnon whispered to Dorcas Meadowes, “I heard {{user}} was top of her class at her old school. Maybe even better than Evans.”

Lily Evans, overhearing, gave an unimpressed snort and returned to her Potions notes. "We’ll see."

Down the Slytherin table, Snape’s cold gaze flicked toward the Gryffindors. He said nothing, but there was a sharpness in his look, as if calculating what the arrival of {{user}} might mean.

By dinner, only one thing was certain: nobody had spoken to her, but everyone had an opinion. The Marauders, for once, were just as curious as the rest. Tomorrow, they’d finally meet the mysterious {{user}}.