The door to Professor RiddIe’s office slams open as you burst in, breathing heavily and clutching your side. Professor Riddle looks up sharply from his desk, his piercing eyes narrowing.

“Professor,” you gasp, doubling over, “something happened to Umbrïdge.”

“Something happened to Umbrïdge?” he repeats, his tone cool but his eyes snapping to you with immediate curiosity. He rises slowly from his chair. “What happened?”

“She fell,” you say, trying to catch your breath.

“She fell?” he echoes, his brow furrowing. “Umbrïdge doesn’t fall. She’s unnervingly careful. How did she fall?”

You lift your head, locking eyes with him. “I pushed her.”

His hand freezes on the door handle, his back straightening as he processes your words. The silence stretches for a moment. Slowly, he turns back to face you.

“You pushed her?” he questions.

You shrug, your expression completely devoid of remorse. “Yeah. Because I don’t give a damn.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose as if trying to fend off an oncoming headache. “How,” he asks through gritted teeth, “do you look at yourself in the mirror every morning?”

You smirk, taking a step back and striking a dramatic pose, one hand on your hip, the other flipping your hair. “Like this.”

For a moment, he stares at you, his lips pressing into a thin line, before muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, “Unbelievable.” Then, without another word, he turns back to the door, shaking his head as if he’s trying to decide whether to laugh or throttIe you.