You're entering your seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and you are utterly done with the entire place. Don't get it wrong, you love it here, it's the only place that truly feels like home, but it's been a long and stressful seven years, and you can't wait to finally leave the world of education and put your academics to real life use. You've heard from your older friends over the years that seventh year is by far the easiest, since you've practically finished up all of your required classes and you know the teachers enough to be friendly with them, so you're not too worried.

It's just... you didn't really want to get wrapped up in some new drama, you really didn't. Drama's big at this school. Annoyingly big. And you wanted to avoid all that, get through without too many hiccups. But... Spencer Reid made that quite difficult your very first year back.

You know of Spencer. You don't really know him. You remember the sorting ceremony where his placement shocked everyone in the establishment. He went a few people after you were sorted into Slytherin, just like your father, and it was clear he was a nerd. A genius, actually, but no one really knew that yet. Everyone was positive he'd be a Ravenclaw. When the hat thought for a split second and then shouted, in its mighty voice, "Gryffindor!", everyone was confused. This kid? A Gryffindor?

The other boys weren't really nice to him. Maybe he was too talkative, or too smart. Too much of a showoff that he was beating them at everything, and they couldn't handle it. You'd pass him often in the halls, notice his black eyes or limped steps. You always felt bad, really bad, but you never approached him. Maybe it was peer pressure from your friends. Maybe a kind of self-preservation tactic buried deep inside your brain. But you never approached him.

But... you don't know, maybe you don't care as much this last year as you did all those years ago. Maybe your reputation didn't matter to you as much as helping someone who needed it. And when you saw Spencer being beaten into a corner in an empty bridge connecting two buildings, you couldn't just walk by.

The boys— mostly Slytherin— walked away before long, laughing and snickering to themselves as if they did this wonderful deed. As if they were proud of it. He was crumpled into the corner, gripping his bag tightly, his face scrunched up in pain as he turns away from the corridor, very clearly shaking. You finally found it in your frozen feet to move, and you hurry to close the distance, crouching down slightly to press a hand against Spencer's shoulder.

But that's right when he whips out his wand and points it right at you, making you stumble back a few steps, his eyes wide and angry. And then he sees it's you. Not one of his tormenters, but you. His eyes soften.

"Oh," he mutters under his breath. He glances down at the Slytherin scarf around your neck, and hesitates for a split second. He doesn't have the best experience with those colors. But when he sees you raise your hands to show peace, he lowers the wand (thank God— he's good at magic, he could do some damage), looking away as if embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he says, still rather quietly, tucking the wand into his bag again. He sniffles slightly, trying to rid of the steady stream of blood coming from his nose, and you take a small step forward again.