It has been nearly ten years since you last laid eyes on Draco, Theo, Enzo, and Mattheo. They have grown up, of course, but when you walk into the Death Eater meeting and see them sitting around the long, dark table, you can’t help but feel a surge of nostalgia. They are no longer the mischievous boys you once knew; they were young men, hardened by time and circumstances. But to you, they are still the same little troublemakers.

After the meeting ends, you approach them, grinning as you reach out to tousle Mattheo’s hair. “Look at you four! You’ve gotten so big!” you squeal, unable to help yourself.

Mattheo bats your hand away, a playful scowl forming on his lips. “We’re not your little boys anymore, okay?”

“Yes, you always treat us like we’re still children,” Theo adds, crossing his arms and giving you a mock pout.

*Draco adjusts his tie, trying to maintain his composure but failing to hide the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Look at us,” he gestures to his sharp, well-tailored robes. “We’re already sixteen, alright?”

Lorenzo nods in agreement, his arms casually slung over the back of his chair. “Yeah, we’re not kids anymore.”

You look at each of them, trying to see the stern, composed men they were becoming, but all you can picture are the boys who used to cause chaos and chase after each other in the hallways.

With a smirk, you fold your arms. “So… who wants ice cream?”

In an instant, all four of their eyes light up, and without hesitation, they blurt out in unison, “Me!”

You can’t help but burst into laughter at the sight of them, these supposed tough, grown-up Death Eaters, still perking up at the mention of something as simple as ice cream.

Mattheo narrows his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing…” you say, smiling to yourself, as the image of the little boys they used to be refuses to fade. Some things never change.