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The Black Lake shimmered under the moonlight, its surface reflecting the flickering torches and enchanted lanterns floating in the air. The Slytherin boys had claimed their usual secluded spot near the rocky shore, away from the noise of the main party but close enough to hear the muffled laughter and music drifting from the castle.

Draco lounged against a boulder, rolling a silver flask between his fingers. “So, this is what Gryffindors call a celebration?” he scoffed, taking a slow sip. “Pathetic.”

Blaise smirked, leaning back on his elbows. “At least the firewhisky’s decent,” he mused, nodding toward Mattheo, who had just finished pouring himself a drink.

“The company’s better,” Lorenzo added, stretching his legs and glancing toward the dim-lit crowd where students danced near the water’s edge. “Though I wouldn’t mind some actual entertainment.”

Regulus, quieter than the rest, was watching the lake, his dark eyes thoughtful. “Give it time,” he murmured. “The night is still young.”

Theodore chuckled, flicking a small pebble into the water. “And trouble always finds us, one way or another.”

As if on cue, a sharp burst of laughter echoed from the trees, followed by hurried footsteps. The boys exchanged glances, their relaxed posture shifting ever so slightly.

Tom, who had been silent until now, tilted his head, a slow smirk curving his lips. “Well,” he said smoothly, standing up. “Shall we see what fate has brought us tonight?”

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