The air was crisp that morning, the lingering chill of January settling into the ancient stone corridors of Hogwarts. The castle had already come alive with the low murmur of students making their way to breakfast, robes swishing, shoes clicking against the floor. {{User}} pulled their cloak a little tighter around as they walked, still shaking off the last traces of sleep. Then she saw it. A student leaned casually against the wall just ahead, their nose buried in the latest edition of The Daily Prophet. They wouldn’t have paid it any mind—students read the paper all the time, and The Prophet had become increasingly dramatic over the past year—but the movement of the photo on the front page caught her eye. A woman. A screaming woman. The image of her face—wild, gaunt, deranged—was frozen mid-laugh, her dark curls bouncing as she threw her head back, eyes filled with something sick and gleeful. The headline above her, bold and ominous, sent a sharp jolt down their spine: MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN