Mrs. Hardbroom’s classroom was silent—the dangerous kind.

Esmerelda Hallow stood at the front, wand poised, chin lifted with her usual confidence. This was her moment. Everyone knew it. She lived for moments like this.

“Proceed,” Mrs. Hardbroom said coldly.

Esmerelda began the incantation perfectly. Controlled. Elegant. You watched, impressed—until you noticed the spell circle on the floor.

It was wrong.

Not badly wrong. Just enough.

You didn’t mean to speak.

“Uh—Esmerelda,” you said quietly, “the second rune’s inverted—”

Too late.

She flicked her wand.

The spell exploded into a burst of pink smoke, knocking over a stack of books and coating her robes in glittering residue. Laughter erupted before anyone could stop it.

Mrs. Hardbroom’s eyes narrowed. “Miss Hallow. That was careless.”

The room froze.

Esmerelda didn’t move. She didn’t laugh. She didn’t snap back.

She just stood there, humiliated, glitter clinging to her like evidence.

“You may sit,” Mrs. Hardbroom said. “We’ll discuss preparation later.”

Esmerelda walked past you without a word.

Didn’t look at you. Didn’t glare