"I can't believe this is happening in Slytherin—sneaking out on the very first day of school—"
Draco pointed a trembling finger, his voice filled with disbelief as he processed the catastrophic start to his prefect duties.
His eyes scanned the black robes embroidered with silver and green stripes, hoping against hope that they would magically transform into red and yellow.
Unfortunately, the robes remained unchanged. From the bowed heads of the young snakes, it was clear they weren't Gryffindors in disguise.
"Mafalda," Jane Yu sighed, fully empathizing with how Gemma must have felt when Jane was a first-year. "Explain yourself."
Among the group of nervous first-years, a second-year student—Mafalda Prewett, a distant relative of Mrs. Weasley and the child of a Squib—hesitantly raised her head. Despite her excellent grades and the occasional Potions guidance from Jane, Mafalda had an almost pathological curiosity and a knack for drawing attention to herself.
"I wanted to help them get familiar with the school," she said, blinking pitifully at Jane with wide, watery eyes. "I heard from the older students that you did something similar, challenging a three-headed dog on your first day—so I wanted to honor your legacy—"
The boomerang from four years ago hit Jane squarely in the knees, metaphorically speaking.
But Jane wasn't so easily fooled. No matter how flattering Mafalda's words were, she couldn't believe anyone would be foolish enough to break school rules on the first day—unless they were as desperate to drop out as she had been.
"Interesting explanation," Jane said, her gaze quickly locking onto a first-year student. He kept his head down, but the bruises on his face and his slightly hunched posture were unmistakable. "Then how do you explain these injuries on him?"
Mafalda froze, but another first-year quickly jumped in.
"Those... those were from his family! They hit him!"
"Do you think we're blind or stupid, lying to a prefect like that?" Draco snapped, his eyes narrowing as he identified the telltale signs of a spell. "Burning sensation, incomplete Exploding Hex—"
Jane shot him a glance, making him swallow awkwardly.
He recognized the spell so quickly because it was one he himself had once used proficiently. The realization made Draco feel an uncomfortable twinge in his knees.
The young snakes fell silent, their fear evident. No matter how much Draco pressed them, they refused to speak, as if their silence could somehow save them.
Jane couldn't help but feel disappointed in this batch of Slytherins. They didn't even have the sense to fight in a place where they wouldn't get caught.
"If no one is willing to give a reasonable explanation," she said, growing impatient as she tapped her wand against her palm, "then I suppose I'll have to give each of you a Burning Hex as a reminder—"
"I'll talk! I'll talk!" Mafalda surrendered instantly, pointing at the hunched first-year. "I overheard them planning a duel—more like a group fight—because his parents are Muggles. I just wanted to watch—"
Jane felt a sense of déjà vu.
She glanced at Draco again, marveling at how these Slytherins seemed to be following in their predecessors' footsteps—Draco 2.0s, so to speak.
Draco, meanwhile, was painfully reminded of his own first-year duel with Harry and Ron. Embarrassed and frustrated, he snapped, "Why didn't you report this to a prefect? Why go yourself?"
Mafalda gave a sheepish smile, her quick wit kicking in. "I thought I could handle it. After all, they're just first-years. And if the professors found out, it might even earn Slytherin some points—"
Jane's sharp glare made her quickly change her tune.
"Or, uh, it could improve my and Malcolm's reputation—"
Malcolm Baddock, another second-year snake, groaned and covered his face at his friend's shamelessness.
"If I said we just wanted to help, would you believe me?"
But before she could finish, emboldened by Draco's pure-blood status, a first-year boldly retorted, "He's a Mudblood! How dare he study magic! His parents are no better than animals—"
"And Mafalda Prewett, daughter of a Squib! Filthy blood! Disgusting—yuck—"
Jane flicked her fingers, conjuring a stream of dirty water to wash out his mouth, leaving him doubled over and retching.
"How does that taste?" she asked coldly. "If you think you can flaunt your pure-blood superiority here, you've come to the wrong place."
The young snakes gasped, then quickly clamped their hands over their mouths, their hiccups betraying their fear.
Nonverbal magic... wandless spells... what a terrifying person!
The retching first-year looked to Draco for help, but Draco turned away, his expression cold.
"Malfoy Prefect—aren't you—"
Jane's glance made Draco flinch and clamp his mouth shut, vowing not to say another word.
"If I were you, I'd listen to a prefect who's stronger than you," he warned. "If it were any other professor or prefect from another house, Slytherin would have lost hundreds of points because of you. But you're lucky—it's us you ran into."
The first-years paled, sensing a punishment worse than losing points.
"The Slytherin common room's cleaning duties are yours for the entire month," Jane announced. "And the nearby bathrooms too. No magic allowed."
She decided to assign them toilet-cleaning duties, both to teach them a lesson and to give the house-elves a break.
The young snakes groaned, their spirits crushed as they lined up and trudged back to their dormitory.
Cleaning toilets... scrubbing bathrooms...
They had never been so humiliated!
...
After dealing with the night's chaos, Jane returned to her dormitory, feeling restless.
She finally understood why Mafalda Prewett had been there.
With a Squib father and a Muggle mother, Mafalda bore the Prewett name but faced bullying as soon as she entered Slytherin.
Though she had cleverly befriended Jane and used her Hermione-like academic prowess to protect herself, not every mixed-blood or Muggle-born in Slytherin was so fortunate.
Perhaps recalling her own experiences with bullying, Mafalda had tried to protect the first-year Muggle-born.
But Jane realized this incident was just the beginning.
She could already foresee countless conflicts arising from pure-blood superiority in the coming days.
Just the thought made her feel like she was falling apart again.
Her prefect authority and personal strength might keep them in line for now—
But spells could only silence mouths, not change minds.
Suppressing the conflict would only let it fester, waiting to explode later.
Should she deliver a groundbreaking anti-discrimination speech?
Without a foundation of mutual understanding, she'd only look like a clown.
She silently cursed Dumbledore for being a master of passing the buck, leaving her to clean up the mess.
What happened to the promise of an easy job with perks like night patrols and point deductions?
She'd been duped again!
No wonder Snape always looked so sour. Juggling a packed schedule, unruly students, and endless disputes—who could endure that?
Was it too late to resign?
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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