Pride, Pressure, and the Weight of Expectations
The news reached the Slytherin table before dessert.
"Did you hear?" one student whispered.
"Snape gave points."
"To Lucien Lionhardt."
"Twenty."
Evelyne Malfoy froze mid-motion.
Her fork hovered over her plate as her heart skipped—then raced.
He did it again…
She glanced across the Great Hall, spotting Lucien laughing softly with Akeno and Susan, looking completely unbothered by the chaos he'd caused.
A strange warmth spread through her chest.
That's my friend, she thought, lips curving upward before she caught herself.
Her fingers tightened.
I can't fall behind.
Across the table, Daphne Greengrass sat upright, eyes thoughtful, while Cassandra Vole closed her book slowly.
They exchanged a brief glance.
Neither needed to say it.
They had both met Lucien before Hogwarts—at King's Cross.
They had both noticed him.
And they had both developed a quiet crush long before the term began.
Watching him now only confirmed it.
We need to work harder, Daphne thought coolly.
If we want to stand beside him, Cassandra added silently.
Evelyne nodded to herself.
I won't be left behind.
🧪 Potions, Pressure, and One Very Wrong Weasley
Earlier that day, Potions class had gone very differently for some people.
Harry Potter stood stiffly beside his cauldron as Professor Snape loomed.
"Potter," Snape said smoothly, "tell me. What would I get if I added powdered moonstone to an infusion of hellebore?"
Harry opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Snape's lip curled.
"No answer?" he continued. "Perhaps fame has dulled your intellect."
Harry swallowed. "I—I don't know, sir."
Snape turned slowly.
"Weasley," he drawled. "Perhaps you know."
Ron straightened, confidence entirely misplaced. "Uh—well, sir, I reckon it's like cooking, right?"
The class went silent.
Snape's eyes darkened.
"So," Ron continued enthusiastically, "if you add moonstone too early, it's like putting salt before tasting. Ruins the flavor. You gotta wait till the end, like seasoning stew."
Harry stared.
Susan covered her mouth.
Akeno blinked.
"…This is Potions," Snape said softly. Dangerously. "Not a kitchen."
Ron scratched his head. "Well, my mum—"
"Ten points from Gryffindor."
Ron squeaked.
"And for future reference," Snape continued, "potions are not improved by gravy logic."
Lucien, watching quietly from his seat, pinched the bridge of his nose.
I explained this…
Harry burned with embarrassment, staring at his cauldron.
I really need to study, he thought. Lucien makes this look easy…
But there was no jealousy.
Only resolve.
I'll work harder.
🌙 Quiet Resolve
That night, Evelyne sat at her desk in the Slytherin dorm, books spread out around her.
Potions.
Charms.
Transfiguration.
She studied until her eyes ached.
Across the castle, Daphne Greengrass reviewed spell theory with meticulous focus.
Cassandra Vole annotated her notes carefully, lips pressed in determination.
None of them wanted to chase Lucien.
They wanted to stand beside him.
And somewhere in Hufflepuff, Lucien Lionhardt slept peacefully—completely unaware that half of Hogwarts had just decided to raise their standards.