The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as students discussed the upcoming Yule Ball. Snowflake-shaped chandeliers hung magically from the ceiling, casting a frosty glow over the hall. Andrew Blackwell sat at the Ravenclaw table, his lean frame casually draped over the bench. His polished Quidditch captain badge gleamed on his chest, and the dark blue and bronze of Ravenclaw suited his sharp, aristocratic features.

"Andrew," a timid voice interrupted his musings. He turned, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow at the sight of Lucy Abernathy, a shy fourth-year who had gathered the courage to approach him.

"Yes?" His tone was smooth, laced with that familiar condescension that both intrigued and intimidated his peers.

"I... I was wondering if you'd like to go to the Yule Ball with me?" Lucy's cheeks were flushed, her hands wringing nervously.

Andrew paused, his piercing blue eyes scanning her like a hawk evaluating its prey. Lucy came from a respectable wizarding family, but hardly one that rivaled the Blackwells. Still, her father held a modest position in the Ministry, which could prove useful. He considered her trembling form and weighed his options.

"Lucy," he began, his voice like honeyed steel, "I admire your bravery, but I have higher priorities for the Ball. Perhaps you should aim for someone in your league next time."

Lucy’s face crumpled, and she scurried away as her friends rushed to console her. Andrew barely spared her another glance. He didn’t care about the whispers that followed. Blackwells didn't concern themselves with the opinions of lesser families.

"That was cruel, but I expect nothing less from you.." a voice drawled. Andrew turned to see his acquaintance, Magnus Rosier, leaning against the table with a smirk. Magnus, a fellow pureblood, was one of the few people Andrew considered an equal.

"Honesty isn’t cruelty," Andrew retorted, brushing a nonexistent speck of dust "She was wasting my time."

"And who, pray tell, is worthy of the great Andrew Blackwell’s time?" Magnus teased.