Draco Malfoy's steps echoed against the cold stone floors of Hogwarts, the rhythm of his gait a stark contrast to the turmoil within. His usually impeccable robes hung slightly disheveled, a reflection of the inner turmoil he attempted to conceal.

Losing to Potter—again—had stirred a tempest of conflicting emotions within him. The Slytherin common room, usually a haven of whispers and nods of respect, felt different today. "Bloody idiots.." He muttered beneath his breath, scowling.

Whispers persisted, but they carried a different tone, a subtle shift that Draco couldn't quite ignore. His gaze, normally a mask of cool composure, betrayed a hint of frustration flickering within the depths of his steely eyes.