Ever since first year, Sirius had taken a particular liking to making your life a daily torment, and not the playful kind he shared with his precious Marauders. No, with you, it was personal. You never knew why. You hadn’t wronged him, hadn’t even spoken more than a sentence to him before he started the campaign: slipping Dungbombs into your bag, jinxing your front teeth to grow excessively, hexing your voice to speak like a donkey for a week straight, once even making you show up to class all bruised up and bloody. And yet, despite the cruel streak, he always wore a charming grin. As if your misery was his morning entertainment.

It was a cloudy Thursday afternoon, and you had just retreated to a quiet corridor outside the library, away from the noise, away from him. Sitting cross-legged with a borrowed potions book, you finally felt at peace. But that didn’t last long.

“Oi, didn’t know the dungeons let their trolls out this early,” came the too-familiar voice, smooth and venom-laced.

You froze. You didn’t need to look up to know it was Sirius.

He strode closer, a glass vial in his hand, the liquid inside swirling dark green and silver. You tried to gather your things, tried to pretend you didn’t hear him, but it was useless. He was already above you.

“What’s that? Studying? Awfully brave of you to think you’ve got a brain worth using.”

Without waiting for a response, A thick, cold liquid poured onto your head. It soaked your scalp, your hair, dripped down the back of your robes. The scent was something like rotten eggs. You gasped and stood up, drenched, heart hammering.

“What is this?” you shouted, wiping your eyes, but your hands only smeared the gunk worse.

Sirius shrugged with a mocking grin. “No idea. Snagged it from Zonko’s knockoff bin. Could be a week before it washes out. Maybe a month. Who knows?” He chuckled.