Harry and I stood in a dim corridor just outside the Great Hall, the heavy wooden doors closed behind us. The faint echo of chatter and clinking goblets drifted through the stone walls, but here, in this quiet pocket of Hogwarts, time felt like it had stopped.
His eyes searched mine like he was looking for something familiar but couldn't find it. I waited, arms crossed, as the silence stretched longer than it should have.
"Well?" he finally asked, voice clipped, wary. "You're just going to show up like this?"
"I sent you letters," I said, my voice low but edged with heat. "Twice. Told you I was coming. I was excited. Thought you would be too."
Harry's brow furrowed. "Peter, I never got anything. Nothing from Turner in over a year."
That stopped me. "You're sure?"
"I swear," he said, stepping closer. "If I'd known…"
The tension drained from my body like water from a sieve. Whatever had happened to those letters, it hadn't been his fault. My chest ached at the idea that he'd thought I'd disappeared on him, too.
A sigh escaped both of us at the same time, and it turned into a laugh. An honest, startled laugh. In the next second, he pulled me into a hug that knocked the wind out of me.
"Still shorter than me," he said into my shoulder.
"Only by twelve minutes," I muttered, half-smiling.
We stood there for a while, letting years of absence melt away.
"I can't believe you're really here," he said, pulling back to look at me.
"Well, assuming you're not going to hex me for getting sorted into Slytherin, I'm here to stay."
He snorted. "Might've been tempted."
The sound of footsteps and laughter reminded us dinner was ending. I glanced back toward the Hall and groaned.
"You made me miss dinner."
Harry pinched my cheek. "Poor thing. We'll find food. Ron always has snacks hidden in his trunk—usually edible."
"Ron?"
"You'll meet him. He's basically the third Potter sibling at this point."
We returned just in time to catch the last wave of students leaving the Hall. Two kids stood at the foot of the staircase—one with flaming red hair, the other with a stack of books in her arms and enough presence to make a teacher nervous.
Harry led the way.
"Peter, meet Ron and Hermione."
"I've heard about you," I said, offering Ron a handshake. "Especially your emergency food stash."
He cracked a smile. "Weasley. Welcome aboard. And yeah, just don't eat anything with a bite already taken out of it."
Hermione stepped forward next. "Hermione Granger," she said warmly. "And don't worry, we smuggled out some food for you two. Trust me, it's safer than Ron's secret drawer."
"She's just jealous I'm a visionary," Ron muttered.
"Of mildew? Maybe," Hermione shot back, and the two shoved each other lightly.
I liked them immediately.
And then—
"Oh, look," came a drawl from behind. "Didn't know Potter had a twin. How cute."
Draco Malfoy strolled past us like a cat who owned the corridor. That same infuriating grin stretched across his face. "And one with taste, too," he added, eyes raking over my Slytherin robes.
Ron groaned audibly. "For Merlin's sake, Malfoy—just once, shut it."
"I wasn't talking to you, Weaselbee."
I fought a smirk. That nickname was actually clever.
But Harry stepped forward, jaw clenched. "Why would this concern you?"
Malfoy turned to him, delight dancing in his eyes. "Because, Potter, it's not every day you see family fall into rival houses. Makes things… interesting."
His gaze flicked to me one last time before he walked off, smug and satisfied with the tension he left behind.
I let out a breath. "Does he always do that?"
"Every chance he gets," Hermione muttered.
That night, I sat with Harry and his friends near the Gryffindor common room. It felt good to just exist for a while—no titles, no stares, no questions. Just Peter. A kid back at school.
Eventually, a tall prefect in Slytherin robes came by, reminding me of curfew. I said my goodbyes and followed him down into the dungeons.
The Slytherin common room was… impressive. Cold elegance. Green lamps, leather chairs, walls that breathed old magic. It was beautiful, in its own way. But entering with the password "Pure-Blood" made my skin crawl. I wasn't one. Most of my new housemates didn't know that yet. But it was only a matter of time.
The prefect pointed out my dormitory and left me there with a brief nod.
Inside, four boys were already unpacking. I spotted my trunk near a bed beside the window and claimed it. One boy barely looked up. Another offered a nod. The third gave a faint, polite smile.
But the fourth just stared.
He didn't blink. Didn't smile. Just watched me, like he was trying to peel back my skin and see what was underneath. The moment I turned to meet his eyes, he jerked his head away and started pretending to fix his pillow.
Okay, then.
I unpacked in silence, then took out a piece of parchment and headed to the common room. I had a promise to keep. My friends at Durmstrang deserved to know I'd arrived safely—and that I hadn't changed as much as my house scarf might suggest.