Golden Girl; 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂

Fifth Year: In The Still of The Night

That evening, Bambi stepped into the Great Hall alone, her hazel eyes sweeping across the bustling tables, searching for familiar faces. The Hall was dazzling, as it always was on Halloween, with hundreds of glowing pumpkins flickering warmly atop the tables and along the floor. The enchanted ceiling above roiled with dark storm clouds, perfectly matching the eerie atmosphere. Live bats darted through the air, their wings flapping against brilliant orange streamers that snaked and twisted like fiery banners across the expanse. The festive energy buzzed around her, but Bambi felt none of it. It was hard to feel particularly festive when her insides were tied in knots.

Her gaze settled on Fred and George a ways down the Gryffindor table. Her feet itched to slide into the empty seat near them, but instead she hesitated. Catching a look at Fred's face, he had a noticeable purplish-blue bruise stark against his pale skin. Like George had, he looked tired, his hair a bit messy, less so in their 'tousled with a purpose' way, and more so carelessly messy. Their usual spark was more subdued than normal, and while they were still laughing and chatting with Lee, it was less in their usual boisterous way.

Remembering Lee's words, Bambi swallowed hard, veering away and sinking into an open seat further down the table, her appetite nonexistent despite the feast materialising in front of her. She picked halfheartedly at a piece of roast chicken, her ears straining to catch snippets of Fred and George's conversation, especially as Angelina and Alicia joined them.

"Finally tired of their ridiculous antics, are you?"

Bambi didn't need to look to know who it was. Turning her head slowly, she fixed a glare on Percy, who was slicing into his chicken with infuriating precision. His self-satisfied smirk made her jaw clench.

"Sod off, Percy," she snapped, her voice low but edged with irritation. She was not in the mood to hear whatever it was he was going to say.

Percy sniffed dismissively, entirely unbothered. "No need to get so defensive. Honestly, the Headmaster must have the patience of a saint to put up with the idiotic stunts you lot pull. If I were in charge—"

"Well, you're not," Bambi cut in, her fork clinking against her plate as she set it down with force. Her grip was dangerously tight, and she fought the urge to snap the silverware in two. "You're not in charge, Percy. You're not the one who gets to decide what's worth fighting for, so why don't you do us all a favor and keep your mouth shut?"

Percy's condescending smirk never wavered. If anything, it grew wider, more irritating. "It's hardly surprising Fred is skirting expulsion at this point. I'm honestly perplexed that it hasn't happened sooner. You should all consider yourselves lucky I haven't submitted a more serious complaint for your reckless antics the other night. Some of us actually value order and discipline around here. Fred's behaviour is disgraceful, and George isn't much better. They're setting a poor example, and frankly, if the Headmaster–"

"Oh, will you shut up, Percy?" Bambi snapped, standing up abruptly. The back of her bench scraped loudly against the stone floor, drawing the attention of several nearby students. "Don't you ever get tired of hearing your own voice?" Her eyes were daggers as she glared at him. "Because I am certainly tired of listening to your sanctimonious drivel, or whatever haughty term you'd prefer."

Percy raised an eyebrow, his cheeks faintly tinged red, though his composure remained intact. "Resorting to hotheaded theatrics now, are we?" he asked, his voice low, as if trying to push the attention away from the table. "Sit down, Bambi. You're only going to embarrass yourself." He waved a dismissive hand, clearly trying to regain control of the situation.

The hall fell quieter, the students' gazes shifting toward them, intrigued by the brewing tension. Percy, unmoved, turned back to his plate, cutting into his chicken as if the conversation had already ended.