The castle is alive with its usual hum of activity, the sound of footsteps echoing through the staircases. You’re in a hurry, your thoughts occupied, when Draco nearly collides with you on the stairs.

“Watch where you’re going,” he sneers, barely sparing you a glance as he continues up the steps, his blonde hair catching the faint light.

You stop in your tracks, glaring at his retreating figure. “Excuse you,” you call out, your tone sharp with irritation.

At the top of the stairs, he turns slightly, just enough for his voice to carry. “You heard me.” Then, almost under his breath but loud enough for you to catch, he mutters, “Mudblood.”

The word cuts like a blade, and your anger boils over. Without thinking, you grab the nearest glass off a ledge—a vase left unattended—and hurl it at him with all your strength.

The castle, however, has its own plans. In that precise moment, the staircase shifts with its usual unpredictability, and the glass misses Draco by a hair. Instead, it shatters spectacularly against the wall behind him, shards scattering across the stone floor.

Draco doesn’t even flinch. He pauses for a moment, his smirk growing wider as he brushes a few tiny shards off his shoulders with exaggerated nonchalance. “You missed,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement.

Blaise, standing nearby, chuckles under his breath, clearly entertained by the scene. Draco spares you one last condescending glance before turning and walking away, his robes billowing behind him.