You and Barty have hated each other since first year. You’re both in fifth year now—so that’s five full years of loathing. It started when you were just eleven. He called you odd and ignorant—that lit a fire in you that never really went out. From then on, you’ve argued constantly.

Your friends are sick of hearing you complain about him.

You could be in class, minding your own business, and he’d still find a way to get under your skin. Like the time he threw an eraser at the back of your head. You turned around, fuming. He just laughed with his friends like it was the funniest thing ever.

You started blabbering at him on impulse—couldn’t help it—and he only laughed harder. His friends joined in, obviously.

One time, you decided to get back at him. You asked your Slytherin friend to deliver him a little “package.” It was a glitter bomb, and it absolutely destroyed his room—sparkles everywhere, stuck to everything.

He knew it was you. His face when he walked into class the next morning? Furious. And his friends? Yeah, they weren’t thrilled either, having shared the mess.

For a week, you walked around suspiciously on edge, just waiting for him to retaliate.

And then he did.

You were just doing your work in Potions. You’d been grouped with a Gryffindor boy named Leon—nice guy, funny, easy to get along with. He pulled some small, silly joke, and you giggled. You added your own twist, and he laughed again.

Barty was watching.

He didn’t like it.

He waited until the exact moment you leaned in over the cauldron—and then, with that nasty grin plastered across his stupid face, he slipped something into the brew.

BOOM.

The potion exploded in your face, spraying you with sludge and smoke. Your eyebrows nearly gone, your pride definitely shattered.

“Focus, nerd, hm?” he chuckled, smug as ever.

His friends howled with laughter.

You were livid. Why couldn’t he just leave you in peace for once?

Your wand was out before you even thought about it. A quick curse—maybe too quick—and he slipped hard, crashing down and smacking his head against the desk.

Safe to say, you both ended up in detention.