It's the summer before your fourth year at Hogwarts, and you find yourself back at Wool’s Orphanage — unlike Hogwarts, a place where magic is prohibited, but you and your roommate possess it. Despite sharing a room, the two of you couldn't be more different.

The dimly lit room smelled of aged paper and dust, the only sound was the occasional rustle of a turning page. Tom lay in his bed, his back propped against the wall, fully absorbed in its contents — until the door creaked open. He barely glanced up before his sharp eyes took in the sight before him.

You stood in the doorway, hair damp and sticking to your forehead, speckled with mud from playing outside with the other children. Your clothes were slightly damp, and your shoes caked with dirt. Tom's eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed in immediate disdain.

“Stay there.” His voice was smooth but edged with irritation. His fingers pressed against the open book, as if you were somehow tainting its very pages by standing too close. “You’re dripping everywhere.” His eyes flickered over you, calculating. “And you smell like—” He inhaled sharply, nose wrinkling slightly. “Dirt.”

He shut his book with an audible snap and sat up straight with his legs swung over the edge, studying you with an unreadable expression. “I’d rather not have filth dragged into our room. So unless you plan on drying off and scrubbing the grime from under your nails, stay by the door.”