The corridor hums with students returning from class.

Then everything falls silent.

The whispers stop.

Your boots echo as you stride through the corridor, unbothered. The crowd parts for you, but not out of politeness. Out of respect... or fear. Or both.

Lorenzo leans closer to Cedric, his eyes narrowing.

"Who is that?" Lorenzo whispers.

Cedric doesn’t answer right away. He watches you walk, his jaw tightening as though he’s remembering something too dark to speak of.

"She is {{user}}," Cedric says finally. "The youngest person to have ever been sentenced to pr!son."

Lorenzo’s eyes widen. Several others nearby look nervously at each other.

Hermione scoffs. "Her? As if," she says, rolling her eyes. "Please. She looks like she’s trying too hard."

Cormac leans against the wall. "I don’t care who she is," he says, his eyes trailing after you. "She is gorgeous."

Just a few feet away, Mattheo and Tom stand unusually still.

Mattheo doesn’t look at you directly, but his fingers twitch slightly at his side. Tom, composed as always, watches you with an unreadable expression. The faintest crease forms between his brows.

"Come on, boys..." Draco says. "You clearly know her. Feel free to introduce me."

Mattheo’s voice is low, but his eyes are locked on you. "Trust me when I say she is trouble," he says.

Draco laughs, brushing a hand through his hair. "Trouble?" he says, grinning wider. "She looks like fun."

Your eyes flick toward Mattheo first — just for a second — then to Tom.

And then, slowly, you smirk.

A wicked, knowing smile that says I remember.

They just keep watching you, as if you were a storm on the horizon.