The sixth year back at Hogwarts meant another of Dumbledore’s famously long-winded speeches. The Great Hall buzzed with idle whispers and clinking cutlery as most students began to tune him out entirely. Your head had just started to dip, your eyes growing heavy from the warmth of the candles and the dull rhythm of the headmaster’s voice…

Until Hermione elbowed you sharply in the ribs. « Did you hear what he just said? » she whispered urgently, leaning in. Her eyes were wide with curiosity.

You blinked groggily. « What? »

« A new sixth-former has arrived, » she said, lowering her voice. « It's incredibly rare. Almost unheard of for someone to transfer this late. »

Before you could respond, the heavy doors at the end of the Great Hall creaked open. Every head turned.

And your heart stopped.

Because the boy standing in the threshold, tall, sharp-eyed, too composed for someone supposedly new, was not a stranger. He was the face from your worst summer nightmares.

The one who haunted you in dreams you couldn’t explain, who stood over you in shadows you couldn’t escape.

Your breath caught in your throat as he began to walk between the tables, Dumbledore’s voice echoing something about « a unique arrangement » and « special circumstances. »

But you weren't listening anymore.

Because if he was real… What did that mean about everything else?

And more importantly, why was he here?

At Hogwarts. Now.

With you.