The emerald fire in the hearth crackles softly, casting an eerie green glow over the common room. The usual hum of quiet conversations and the scratch of quills halts abruptly when the heavy door swings open. Mattheo strides in, his expression hard to read beneath a split lip and a bruised cheekbone. He looks like someone who’s trying too hard to appear unfazed, but the subtle wince as he sits gives him away.

“What the fu— What the h3ll has happened to you?” Theodore says, his voice sharp as he straightens from his slouched position on the arm of a chair. His dark eyes scan Mattheo’s battered face with equal parts concern and disbelief.

“Got into another fight, brother, I presume?” Tom says from across the room, barely looking up from the hefty tome in his hands. His tone is calm, almost disapproving. “You really need to start c0ntrolling your temper.”

Mattheo slouches into a chair, letting out a groan. “It’s not really like I planned for it to happen.”

“And who was it that made you look like… that?” Theodore asks, moving closer, his eyebrows raised. His tone is incredulous now, almost amused despite the worry in his eyes.

Mattheo doesn’t respond immediately, his jaw tightening as he avoids Theodore’s gaze.

Tom finally looks up, closing his book with deliberate slowness. His piercing gaze locks onto Mattheo, cutting through the silence. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, right?”

“Tom, don’t—” Mattheo starts, but Tom is already on his feet.

“{{user}}? A girl? Really?” Tom’s voice is low, sharp, and tinged with disbelief.

Mattheo throws his hands up, exasperated. “Well, I’m not exactly gonna hit her back, am I? She’s got a pretty damn good punch too!”

Theodore snorts, running a hand through his hair as he stares at Mattheo. “Merlin’s sake, Mattheo. What did you even do to deserve it?”

“Nothing! I mean…” Mattheo hesitates, glancing at Tom, whose raised brow demands the truth. “Not nothing. It’s just… complicated.”