The corridors of the castle echoed with shouts as the tension between houses reached another boiling point. A small crowd had gathered near the abandoned courtyard, where Mattheo stood in the center of a heated argument with a group of Gryff*ndor boys. His eyes were aflame with defiance, his posture cocky despite the numbers against him.

One of the Gryff*ndors, tall and broad-shouldered, sneered. "You're all talk, Mattheo. Without your little crew, you'd be nothing."

Mattheo smirked, his voice laced with that dangerous, irreverent charm. "Funny. Did you come up with that on your own, or did the whole house help?"

The comment drew scattered snickers from bystanders, but it was enough to ignite the simmering anger. A wand was drawn, and in seconds, chaos erupted.

The Gryff*ndor boys lunged forward, casting spells without hesitation. Mattheo dodged a jinx with a fluid step back, his own wand flashing with retaliatory sparks. "Is that all you've got? I was hoping for more."

The fight intensified. Spells ricocheted off stone walls, and the air buzzed with magic. Mattheo laughed despite himself, clearly thriving in the adrenaline. But then one of the Gryffndors snarled, his wand raised high, and shouted, "Cruco!"

Time seemed to slow. Mattheo’s smirk faltered as he realized the curse was coming straight for him. Before he could react, a figure stepped in front of him—Theo.

The curse hit Theo square in the chest, and he crumpled to the ground with a strangled cry of pain.

"Theo!" Mattheo dropped to his knees beside his friend, shaking his shoulder as Theo writhed on the ground, his body convulsing under the curse's effects.

From the crowd, a voice rang out—sharp, commanding. "Enough!"

You strode forward, wand in hand, eyes blazing with cold fury. Beside you, Draco and Blaise moved like a storm, flanking you as they pushed through the crowd. Lorenzo and Regulus were close behind, their expressions unreadable but no less intense.