Hidden safely within the crowd, Esther watched the spectacle unfold with the relaxed air of someone enjoying a drama from the best seat in the house.
As expected, the moment Draco's sharp-tongued remarks landed, they immediately ignited Gryffindor's collective outrage. Several students who were close to Harry and the Weasley family shot to their feet in unison, expressions full of righteous fury, clearly ready to demonstrate that fists were sometimes faster than words.
Slytherin, of course, was not about to lose face either. Those who usually followed Draco's lead also stood up, silently declaring where they stood.
This confrontation was not merely about Draco's personal grudges with Harry or the Weasleys. The truth was that the long-standing rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor ran deep. Conflicts between the two Houses were practically a Hogwarts tradition, and both sides secretly wished for the other's downfall. Once an argument broke out, House loyalty kicked in instantly, and everyone became remarkably united.
Ernie, who had originally intended to march straight over and confront Draco on Esther's behalf, paused mid-movement and sat back down instead. He leaned toward his friends and began whispering excitedly, his expression betraying the unmistakable delight of someone who very much enjoyed chaos—as long as he could observe it from a safe distance.
Unfortunately for him, the excitement was short-lived.
Just as the atmosphere reached the brink of explosion, Professor Sprout arrived.
She took in the strange, tense scene before her and immediately put on a serious expression. "What is going on here?" she asked sternly. "Are you all arguing?"
Professor Sprout was famously gentle-tempered, but no matter how kind she was, she was still a professor—and the Head of Hufflepuff at that. She had the authority to deduct points from all four Houses. As a result, everyone instantly returned to their seats, those who had been eating resumed eating, and those who had been gossiping hurriedly switched topics as if nothing had happened.
A few Gryffindor still looked dissatisfied, but their classmates quickly tugged them back down, murmuring that losing House points over someone like Malfoy simply was not worth it.
On the Slytherin side, Draco sat down with unmistakable satisfaction. Gryffindor's restraint only fueled his sense of triumph, as though silence itself were proof that he had won. His smug expression perfectly embodied the phrase "small victory, enormous ego."
If not for that undeniably handsome face, Esther thought sourly, he would truly be the kind of person who could make someone feel sick just by looking at him for one second too long.
She was still enjoying this private observation when Professor Sprout called out clearly, "Esther Mayne, and Malfoy, Parkinson, Goyle, and Crabbe—please come with me."
Esther's heart skipped a beat.
Was this finally about their incident?
She was not afraid of Professor Sprout's judgement; this was simply the instinctive panic that came with being called out by a teacher. Thanks to her past life, she had developed a deeply rooted fear of being singled out by authority figures, no matter the reason.
"Don't worry," an older student noticed her momentary stiffness and whispered gently. "You'll be fine."
Esther smiled at her. "I know."
And she meant it. Once the initial panic faded, she had already adjusted her mindset.
She stood up calmly and openly.
Draco and the others clearly knew why they were being summoned. Draco's face turned pale, and through the crowd, his gaze flicked briefly toward Esther.
"Professor Sprout," Pansy asked sharply, folding her arms and lifting her chin with practiced arrogance, "where exactly are you taking us? Does our Head of House know about this?"
Professor Sprout gave her a measured look and replied meaningfully, "Miss Parkinson, I am taking you to your Head of House's office. Naturally, he will be there."
The moment those words landed, panic flickered through Pansy's eyes. She did not understand—why would bullying a timid Hufflepuff warrant involving their Head of House?
Fear of Professor Snape was not limited to other Houses. If anything, Slytherins feared him more deeply—like children who knew exactly how disappointed their strictest parent could be.
Pansy instinctively glanced at Draco.
Draco's lips pressed into a thin line. He shot that "cowardly Hufflepuff," a sharp, resentful look but said nothing, turning and following Professor Sprout without protest.
Goyle and Crabbe exchanged a glance, swallowed audibly, and followed suit.
It was just a Hufflepuff, after all. What was there to be afraid of?
They walked silently down the corridor behind Professor Sprout. Esther calmly ignored the hostile looks sent her way, focusing instead on not tripping over her own feet.
Soon enough, they arrived at Professor Snape's office.
Professor Sprout entered first, and the others followed closely behind.
The room was filled with the bitter scent of potions—strange but not unpleasant, the kind of smell that lingered at the back of one's throat.
Professor Snape stood behind his desk, still dressed in his signature black robes, his slightly long hair falling around his pale face. Hearing their arrival, he lifted his head and swept a sharp, penetrating gaze over the group, his presence alone enough to make the air feel heavier.
Esther stiffened instinctively.
Only now did she truly remember that she had disrupted his class earlier. Of all professors. This was a man who made students regret life choices they had not even made yet.
But she really had had no other choice.
Their very first class had been Potions, and her textbook had been stolen. If she had not caused that scene, the only one punished would have been herself. By making a fuss, she had at least dragged her bullies down with her.
She glanced sideways at Draco and noticed that his expression was just as strained.
Apparently, fear of Professor Snape was one thing they all shared.
That realization oddly restored her emotional balance.
"Good evening, Professor Snape," she said.
The room froze for exactly half a second.
Draco stared at her as though he had seen a ghost, clearly wondering where she had suddenly found the courage to greet their Head of House.
Before he could think further, Snape's cutting gaze snapped toward him.
"G-Good evening, Professor," Draco stammered.
Snape looked at them with thinly veiled sarcasm. "If my evening did not involve handling your affairs after grading an entire stack of student assignments, then yes, it would indeed be quite pleasant."
Esther instinctively shrank her neck. The small spark of courage she had just summoned vanished instantly.
"Now," Snape continued coolly, his gaze finally settling on Esther, "let us hear what exactly happened that frightened Miss Mayne into a public breakdown severe enough to disrupt my class entirely. Miss Mayne, you will speak first."
Esther's heart tightened, but seeing Professor Sprout still there helped steady her nerves. She glanced at her, and Professor Sprout offered her a gentle, encouraging smile.
"Don't be afraid," she said softly. "Just tell the truth."
Esther took a deep breath and recounted everything that had happened earlier that day, step by step.
Facing all the parties involved, she remained completely objective, adding no embellishments. Even so, her account was enough to draw furious glares from the four students opposite her.
Draco, in particular, looked at her with a mix of anger, resentment—and, bafflingly, a trace of grievance.
Esther genuinely did not understand what he had to feel wronged about. Perhaps it was a chronic case of pure-blood prince syndrome.
When she finished, Professor Snape turned his attention to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy," he said coolly, "do you have anything to say in response?"
Draco flushed red and protested, "I was just joking with her. I didn't actually extort her for money. And she really did run into me first—my robes were damaged. That part is true."
***
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