Sharon Westoll tugged her cloak tighter as she made her way down Diagon Alley, her school list clutched in one hand. The street bustled with families doing their own shopping, but she felt a bit out of place, as always. Her eyes darted between the familiar shopfronts—Flourish and Blotts, Ollivanders, and Slug and Jiggers. She needed to pick up some new potion ingredients, maybe a fresh quill, but her steps slowed when she spotted a group of students from Hogwarts up ahead.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the little Ravenclaw from nowhere,” a voice sneered from the shadows of an alleyway. Sharon’s heart sank as three boys stepped into view, all wearing smug expressions. She recognized them instantly—Mulciber, Avery, and Rosier. They had that unmistakable Slytherin swagger.

Sharon glanced around, hoping to see someone else she knew, but most people were too wrapped up in their own errands to notice. She swallowed hard, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to sound calm. “I’ve got me own business, lads. Just let us go on, yeah?"

“Not so fast,” Mulciber said, blocking her path with a grin that sent a cold shiver down her spine. “You don’t think we’d let a Muggleborn like you just stroll around like you belong here, do you? You need to learn your place.

Sharon felt her breath quicken, but she refused to look afraid. She knew what they were—wannabe Death Eaters, circling like wolves, thinking they could intimidate her just because her parents were Muggles. But she’d faced worse things at Hogwarts. Sort of.

“I know me place,” Sharon replied, her voice firmer now. "It's up at the castle, same as you. Now leave us be."

Rosier leaned in closer, his voice low. “Or what, Westoll? You going to hex us with those clever little Ravenclaw spells of yours?”