You, a Mudblood Ravenclaw, were hurrying past with your twin, Hermione, when a group led by Harry and Draco blocked your way.

At first, it was teasing, playful enough to provoke a frown. But quickly, it escalated—spells flicked too close, objects knocked over, your robes catching a spark.

Pain exploded along your arm. Smoke curled as a minor burn marked your skin. You staggered, clutching yourself, anger and shock boiling inside. Hermione’s eyes flared like fire.

“That’s it!” she roared. Without thinking, her hand shot out, slapping Draco squarely across the face. Draco staggered back, stunned.

Harry blinked in surprise, and Hermione didn’t hesitate again—another sharp slap landed on him, leaving him blinking and furious.

“I’m taking her to the hospital wing. Now!” Hermione’s voice cut through the stunned silence. You leaned on her, still wincing, but steadying yourself as she guided you.

The other Slytherins stepped back, whispers buzzing like electricity in the corridor—Harry and Draco had gone too far.

As they hurried down the hall, Hermione muttered under her breath, “Being talented doesn’t make you untouchable. Not if you hurt people for sport.”

The twins moved as one, determined, leaving a trail of tense silence in their wake.