You didn’t hate James Potter. But you definitely wouldn’t cry if he got hexed in the hallway.

Loud, arrogant, always smirking like he owned the castle — he was everything you didn’t have time for. You were focused and far too ethical for his antics. The kind of student who did the work while people like Potter threw dungbombs and flirted with anything that blinked.

You were in the library when it happened. Arms full of books, turning a corner too fast — and slammed right into someone.

Your papers hit the floor.

“Oi—watch it,” the voice barked. Annoyed. Familiar.

You looked up. James Potter.

Of course.

“Sorry,” you grumbled, already crouching to gather your things.

He was about to leave till his eyes squinted. “Hey… don’t I know you?”

“Nope,” you said flatly.

“I’m sure I do,” he said, now following you as you tried to walk past. “You’re in my year, yeah? Ravenclaw, right?”

You just stand up and start leaving with your things, ignoring him.

“Oi, hold on—”

“I don’t do fan clubs,” you said, not even turning around.

That should have shut him up.

But it didn’t.

He jogged to catch up, walking backward in front of you now. “Didn’t we have Transfiguration together first year? Or—wait—”

He stopped so suddenly you nearly bumped into him again.

“Wait a minute,” he said, eyes widening. “You’re the one who corrected Flitwick. In third year. About the wand movement for the Seize and Pull charm.”

You blinked.

“…You remember that?”

He grinned, victorious. “Took me a second, but yeah. Knew I knew that face. You’re like…Hufflepuff’s genius aren’t ya?”

You gave him a look. “And you’re still standing in the middle of the hallway.”

His grin didn’t fade. If anything, it grew.

“You’re feisty. I like that.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Just great. He’s bothering you now.