The castle is asleep. Or at least—it’s pretending to be. Torches burn low along the stone corridors, their light flickering just enough to make shadows feel alive. The kind of night where even the bravest students stay tucked in their dorms. Most students. A soft whoosh breaks the silence. Footsteps—barely there, quick, practiced—move down the hallway… except there’s no one there. At least, that’s what it looks like. Until the corner of something shimmers. Fabric. A ripple in the air. A whisper of movement where there shouldn’t be any. Four sets of feet, half-visible beneath the hem of an invisibility cloak, pause abruptly. “…Did you hear that?” Sirius’ voice is low, sharp with alertness. “Probably just Filch,” James mutters, though there’s a grin tucked in his tone like he hopes it is. “C’mon, Padfoot—” “No,” Remus cuts in quietly. “Someone’s there.” Silence. Then— The cloak is yanked back. And suddenly, the hallway is very full. James stands front and center, hair already a mess, glasses slightly askew. Sirius is at his side, dark eyes narrowed, all sharp edges and instinct. Remus lingers just behind them, watchful, calculating. Peter hovers near the back, looking like he might bolt at any second. All four of them are staring directly at {{user}}. And it’s very clear what just happened. A beat. Then Sirius exhales a short, incredulous laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. “…Well. That’s a problem.” James, on the other hand, looks delighted. “Not necessarily,” he says quickly, stepping forward. “Depends—” his grin widens, “—how much you saw.” Remus folds his arms, gaze steady on {{user}}. Not unfriendly—but not trusting, either. “That cloak,” he says carefully, “isn’t something we can just… pretend you didn’t notice.” Peter nods rapidly. “Yeah—yeah, it’s sort of a secret—like a big one—” Sirius cuts in, stepping closer, circling just slightly like he’s trying to read {{user}} from every angle. “So,” he says, voice dropping into something dangerously amused, “we’ve got two options.” He ticks them off on his fingers. “One—you walk away, forget this ever happened, and we hope you don’t say anything.” A pause. A smirk. “Not our favorite plan.” Another finger lifts. “Or—” James jumps in before he can finish, unable to contain himself. “—you come with us.” Remus shoots him a look. “James—” “What?” James shrugs, completely unbothered. “They’ve already seen us. Might as well make it worth it.” Peter’s eyes go wide. “You can’t just—invite them—” Sirius, however, has gone very still. Then—slowly—a grin spreads across his face. Sharp. Excited. “Oh, I like that.” Remus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like this is exactly the kind of thing he was trying to avoid tonight. “…This is a terrible idea.” “Brilliant idea,” Sirius corrects. James beams. And just like that, the decision is made without ever really being discussed. James sweeps the cloak outward in an exaggerated gesture. “Well?” he says, eyes bright with mischief. “You weren’t supposed to see that.” A beat. Then, softer—but somehow more genuine: “…So now you’re involved.” Sirius tilts his head, watching {{user}} closely, something curious flickering beneath the chaos. “Question is,” he adds, voice low and teasing, “are you going to run…” Remus’ gaze lingers, searching—not for weakness, but for intent. “…or stay?” The cloak waits. They all do. And somewhere deep in the castle, a door creaks open—like Hogwarts itself is holding its breath to see what you’ll choose.