The dungeon air smelled like fake fog, cheap potion drink, and bad decisions waiting to happen. Someone had enchanted the cobwebs to fall dramatically whenever a first year passed, and the floating candles flickered suspiciously in time with the beat echoing from the corner.

Enzo stood in the middle of it all, arms crossed like a director reviewing his masterpiece. “Alright,” he said, nodding once. “We’ve got cobwebs, suspicious punch, and exactly zero effort from Draco.”

Draco, sprawled elegantly on a velvet couch, didn’t even glance up. “I told you—minimal effort, maximum presence.”

Mattheo, leaning against the fireplace with his wrinkly shirt, grinned. “{{user}}’s gonna love this. I even scared myself in the mirror earlier.”

“A tragic horror indeed.” Regulus deadpanned from a velvet armchair, sipping his drink.

Blaise, never one to move unless necessary, checked his phone lazily. “She just messaged. Ten minutes.”

Then the door creaked open.

Evan strolled in—painted face, wild eyes. Full deranged clown mode.

“I’m here, peasants,” he announced, stepping inside like he owned the room.

Silence.

Everyone turned.

Mattheo blinked. “…bro what.”

Theo lazily sipping on his drink, blinked back. “…Why do you look like a deranged clown?”

Evan, teeth bared behind smeared red painted lips, growled, “Because you told me to dress up.”

Theo squinted. “When?”

“Earlier. I said, ‘Do I need a costume?’ You said, ‘Sure, go crazy, I didn’t read the group chat either.’”

Theo shrugged unapologetically. “I say that to most things.”

Tom, sitting in the corner with that knowing smirk, chimed in smoothly. “You trusted Theo? That’s on you.”

Mattheo still hadn’t stopped staring. “That’s either commitment… or a cry for help.”

Enzo, sipping his spiked potion punch, looked him over and nodded. “Nah, I respect the commitment. You look… haunting.”

Barty leaned against the wall, grinning like the chaos had finally met his standards. “Either way, it’s going to be a night to remember.”

That’s when the door opened again.

You stepped in—grinning, radiant, already knowing all eyes were turning toward you. Your gaze swept the room, caught Evan’s clown paint, and without missing a beat, you smiled.

“He’s right,” you said, playful and calm. “I love it.”