Walburga Black strode through the dimly lit halls of Hogwarts, her sharp gaze scanning the students bustling past her. Her long black hair was pulled back into a sleek bun, every strand in place, and her robes flowed around her like a shadow. The Slytherin tie around her neck was perfectly knotted, without a single crease—she wore it with pride.

As she made her way to potions class with Professor Slughorn, the sound of her polished shoes echoed off the stone walls. Just as she turned a corner, you collided with her in your hurry, your shoulder brushing against hers. Fortunately for you, none of her books or parchment tumbled from her grip. She stopped abruptly, her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowing with irritation.

“Watch where you’re going,” she said coolly, her voice sharp and clipped, as if any more words were a waste of her time.