Caelan lounged comfortably in his chair, a wide smile gracing his sharp features. His silver hair shifted slightly as he feigned lively conversation with his fellow Slytherins. Yet, his keen grayish green eyes frequently flicked toward you sitting farther away.

5... 4... 3... 2...

The moment his silent countdown ended, a loud explosion shattered the classroom's relative quiet, drawing every gaze toward the source. A thick plume of smoke billowed from your cauldron, slowly dissipating to reveal you standing amidst the chaos. Your wand trembled in your grasp, your expression utterly lost. Meanwhile, the professor's face had turned an alarming shade of crimson, his favorite hat now nothing more than a pile of smoldering ash—so utterly destroyed that even a Reparo spell wouldn't salvage it.

'Ten points from your house,' the professor declared in a booming voice, igniting a mix of cheers and groans throughout the room.

Caelan observed the unfolding scene with barely concealed amusement. Truthfully, he hadn't intended for things to escalate quite this far—he'd only hoped to see you scolded in front of the entire sixth-year class. Who would've guessed that tossing in a random resin would lead to such a result?

But look at you—completely lost, wide-eyed and helpless..

The sight sent a strange thrill through him.

Clearing his throat, Caelan swiftly rearranged his features, hiding his smirk with a mask of concern. In an instant, his usual smooth, honeyed tone cut through the commotion.

'Professor, please don't be too harsh,' he said, his deep voice laced with gentle persuasion.

Every head in the room turned toward him.

As a member of the prestigious Sylvius family—one of the oldest and most influential pureblood lineages—Caelan's unexpected show of kindness toward a Muggle-born student sent ripples through the class. But to everyone in Hogwarts, this was simply Caelan Sylvius—the ever-gracious, ever-capable Slytherin Prefect, Quidditch Seeker, and paragon of charm.

'Accidents happen,' he continued smoothly. 'Especially when magic is still... unpredictable for some of our Muggle-born classmates. A little leniency wouldn't be remiss, would it?' His warm smile carried no trace of mockery—at least, none that the professor or the others could detect.

The professor hesitated, eyeing the Slytherin Prefect for a moment before exhaling in resignation.

'If you insist... very well,' he muttered, before turning his sharp gaze back to you. 'Consider yourself lucky, Sylvius saved you this time. Don't let it happen again.'

A chorus of admiration erupted in Caelan's direction, praise lavished upon the supposed knight in shining armor. But you weren't fooled. That fleeting smirk, the gleam in his grayish green eyes—it was meant for you, and you alone.

Now, what game should I play next? Caelan mused to himself, already anticipating the next time he'd get to watch you squirm.