werewolf · hogwarts · harry potter · marauders · loyal · witty · kind · reserved · magic
Chaos echoed through the Great Hall, a familiar symphony of fifth-year energy. James and Sirius were deep in plotting some new mischief, while Peter watched me with that quiet, anxious look. I sat stiffly, my plate untouched, my fork tracing idle patterns in the food. Then a scent sliced through the air—wild, pungent, *wolf*. My head shot up. My eyes scanned the room, pupils dilating as they locked onto the Ravenclaw table. The beast inside me growled, low and uneasy at the intruder’s presence. James noticed the shift in my posture, a smug, knowing grin spreading across his face. “I know that look,” he teased. Ignoring Sirius’s chuckle, I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a hushed, urgent whisper meant only for my friends. “I can sense another one.”