Excuse you - (do not mock my creativity)

If I have mastered anything in life, it's that I ruin it with my own hands.

And I say this with my whole heart—being a prefect is NOT fun.

Yes, technically speaking, I had Draco, Kenny, and Blaise suffering alongside me. But that didn't change the fact that we had to patrol the corridors, sleep late, do a thousand useless duties, and maintain our grades, all while keeping our sanity intact.

And I tell you—

THESE FIRST YEARS ARE RECKLESS.

I don't know what was in the pumpkin juice this year, but never in the history of Hogwarts have I seen a batch of eleven-year-olds so convinced that they were the next Dark Lords in the making.

Case Study #1: The Duelist Disaster

It was well past curfew when I heard two voices whispering violently in the hallway. Expecting actual rule-breakers, I turned a corner with my wand ready—only to find two first years standing dramatically under a suit of armor, wands drawn, whisper-yelling at each other.

"You dare challenge me, Lucian Blackwood?" one of them hissed in the worst imitation of a pureblood accent I have ever heard.

"I do!" the other declared, flipping his fringe dramatically. "And I shall defeat you for your insult against my honor!"

Insult against my honor. Eleven years old.

I cleared my throat.

Both of them jumped, nearly smacking themselves in the face with their own wands.

"Can I ask what, exactly, you two are doing?" I asked, arms crossed.

Lucian turned to me with serious eyes. "A duel, Prefect Blackthorn. An honorable one."

The other nodded solemnly. "Our ancestors dueled at dawn. We duel at—" he checked his tiny wrist for a non-existent watch, "—10:43 PM."

I blinked. "And what, pray tell, was the insult that started this honorable duel?"

Lucian scowled. "He called my toad fat."

I almost choked.

Meanwhile, Draco appeared out of nowhere, leaned against the wall, and smirked. "Oh, by all means, don't let us stop you. I would love to see how this plays out."

Of course, he was enjoying this.

They actually looked excited before I gave them my best unimpressed glare. "Bed. Now."

They scurried away immediately.

Draco sighed dramatically. "You ruin all my fun."

Case Study #2: The Tragic Love Confessions

Apparently, somehow, being a prefect meant that I was now the subject of several first-year crushes.

I realized this when I found a badly spelled love note under my plate at breakfast.

Dear Seleen Blackthron,

You are the most bootiful girl in Slytherin. I love your hair. It reminds me of the noble family I am from. One day, I will be great like you. Will you go on a date with me? I can get us butterbeer.

Yours sincerely, the future Lord Slytherin.

I showed it to Kenny.

She howled.

"What—what is this?" I asked, mortified.

"Oh, my Merlin, this is gold," she wheezed, barely holding in her laughter.

Blaise, reading over her shoulder, lost it. "'Future Lord Slytherin'? Who is this child?"

Draco took one look at the note, his entire face went red, and he snatched it away before I could stop him.

"Malfoy, no—"

Too late.

He stormed down the table, found a group of terrified-looking first years, slammed the note down in front of them, and growled, "Alright. Which one of you rats wrote this?"

One particularly small Slytherin gulped. "U-Um—"

"Don't um me," Draco snapped, eyes narrowing. "Butterbeer? Butterbeer? Do you think my girlfriend—" he said, gesturing aggressively to me, "—drinks butterbeer with children?"

The kid squeaked.

Meanwhile, Blaise was fully on the floor laughing.

Kenny, wiping away actual tears, snatched the note back and read it again in a dramatic voice. "'I will be great like you.' I can't—"

Draco groaned, rubbing his temples. "This is ridiculous."

I, quite literally, had no words.

This was our life now.

Miserable, exhausted prefects and an army of utterly delusional first years.

The Final Tragedy: The TikTok Plague (Now Even Worse)

I had already suffered enough as a prefect. I had broken up duels over fat toads, received unsolicited love confessions from an eleven-year-old 'Lord Slytherin,' and now—

Now, I was about to encounter something so deeply cursed that not even Binns' History of Magic could have prepared me for it.

It all started when I noticed a group of first-years huddled together in the corridor, staring at a parchment with—was that drool?

I sighed. "Alright, what now?"

The group gasped and turned to me, wide-eyed, as if I had just insulted their ancestors.

One of them scoffed. "Omg, not her."

"She def doesn't have the rizz to understand," another whispered.

"Bro, she's gotta be NPC-coded, no way she doesn't know," the third said, shaking their head.

I blinked. "Fine what? Who is coding what?! WHAT IS HAPPENING?"

And then—

Chaos.

I don't know who started it, but suddenly they were all talking at once.

"Ayo, she's giving oldhead vibes, not gonna lie—"

"Bro, lowkey, I feel bad for her. No cap."

"Nah, highkey, this is tragic. Imagine not knowing."

"FR FR. It's the way she's actually confused for me—"

"I CAN STILL HEAR YOU!" I shouted, flailing my arms. "AND WHAT DOES FR FR MEAN? WHO IS RIZZ? WHAT AM I NOT CAPPING?!"

"Bro, she's so out of pocket, someone get her a smartphone—"

"A WHAT?!"

"Not gonna lie, I feel like she's a millennial," one whispered.

"NO. NO. TAKE THAT BACK," I gasped in horror. WHY AM I A MISSILE?

The audacity. The disrespect. The pain.

Kenny, my last hope, placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Selene. Sweet, sweet Selene."

I clutched her robes. "Help me."

"We have to leave," she whispered gravely.

Draco finally turned away from the mirror (where he had been fixing his hair, obviously) and sighed. "What is all this noise about—" His eyes landed on the first-years, who were still whispering and throwing around nonsensical words. "Oh. It's the little TikTok gremlins again."

I turned to him. "So you KNOW about this dark magic?"

Draco scoffed. "Of course I do. They tried to get ME to do a 'Sigma face' last week—"

"A WHAT—?"

"A 'Sigma face'!" Draco shuddered, horrified. "They told me I had 'main character energy' and then made me stand still while they said some Muggle chant—"

"It was the Gigachad theme song," Blaise supplied unhelpfully.

Draco gagged. "Don't remind me."

Blaise groaned. "The worst part? They don't even have smartphones, and yet they somehow know everything about it."

"But—HOW?!" I cried. "WHERE ARE THEY LEARNING THIS?"

One of the first-years finally looked up from their parchment and said, "We have ways, oldhead."

I collapsed.

"OLDHEAD?" I shrieked. "I AM Sixteen!"

Draco lost it.

Kenny was wheezing.

Blaise, hands on his knees, gasped for air.

I turned to anyone for support. "This is it. This is how I die. Not in some heroic battle. Not in an epic duel. No. My own first-years have called me old and my soul is leaving my body."

"Lowkey, she's being kinda dramatic," one whispered.

"No cap, she's acting like she got Avada'd or something—"

"I AM ABOUT TO AVADA MYSELF, ACTUALLY!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Muggleborns are ruining Hogwarts."

"Oh, don't start with that," I muttered.

"Well, I'M not wrong, am I?" he huffed. "The castle used to be about dark corridors and secret passageways and an occasional Basilisk. Now? It's 'no cap' this and 'rizz' that—"

"*Draco, you sound eighty," Kenny sighed.

"You weren't THERE!" he argued. "You didn't see them practicing the 'NPC walk' in the common room!"

Blaise groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Oh, Merlin, don't remind me."

"Next time they ask me to 'bark,' I am actually hexing someone," Draco muttered darkly.

I turned back to the first-years, who had gone back to whispering over their probably cursed parchment.

One of them, the boldest of the group, looked me dead in the eyes and said, "Ratio."

I drew my wand. "I'll choke you to death-"

Just when I thought things couldn't possibly get any worse, they did.

Because then, one of the first-years—who had somehow avoided my wrath up until now—piped up:

"That's what she said."

The silence.

The deafening silence that followed.

Kenny snorted. Blaise bit his lip to keep from laughing. Draco visibly recoiled, looking like he had been personally offended by the very air around him.

And me?

I blinked at the child, absolutely speechless. "What. Did. You. Just. Say?"

The little menace had the audacity to grin at me. "That's what she said."

I turned to my friends. "WHO IS SHE? WHAT DID SHE SAY? WHY DOES SHE KEEP SAYING IT?!"

Draco was red in the face now. "They don't even KNOW what it means! They just SAY it! They use it WRONG!"

Kenny wiped away a tear. "Remember when one of them said it after McGonagall told them to put their wands away?"

"DON'T REMIND ME!" I cried.

"I will never forget the look on her face," Blaise wheezed. "She almost sent them to Azkaban—*"

Draco ran a hand down his face. "This is worse than Potter existing. I hate this. I hate all of this."

I turned back to the horde of first-year goblins. "Okay. Listen. This 'she' person? Whoever she is? I don't care what she said. I don't wanna know. And if I hear you say it one more time, I am deducting all your house points and hexing you into next week. Do I make myself clear?"

One of them opened their mouth—probably to say it again—and I immediately raised my wand.

They shut up real fast.

"Good," I huffed, lowering it. "Now go do... whatever it is you little demons do. Just—away from me."

They ran off, giggling, but I was traumatized.

Draco grabbed me by the shoulders, his expression grim. "Selene. We have to do something."

"Draco, they are eleven."

"AND?" he scoffed. "They must be stopped! We can't let Hogwarts fall like this!"

Kenny sighed. "Face it, Malfoy. We lost. The first-years have won. Hogwarts belongs to them now."

Blaise nodded solemnly. "It was a good run, though."

I dramatically placed a hand on my chest. "And so the great Hogwarts era ends. Not with a battle. Not with a war. But with 'that's what she said' jokes and TikTok trends."

Draco scowled. "I refuse to let Potter be the least of my problems."

"Well, at least Potter doesn't 'griddy' down the corridors—" Blaise started.

Draco gagged. "DON'T SPEAK THAT INTO EXISTENCE."

And just when I thought we finally had peace, a random first-year ran by screaming, "It's giving old Slytherin energy, bestie—"

I collapsed onto the floor.

........................................................................

Draco slammed his hands onto Umbridge's desk like we had just uncovered a massive conspiracy. "Madame, we have to do something about this—"

Kenny, Blaise, and I stood beside him, looking as grave as if we were receiving a death sentence. The first-years were out of control. The entire school was too nice to discipline them.

But Dolores Umbridge wasn't.

If there was one person who could and would strike terror into their little goblin hearts, it was her.

Umbridge gave us her usual sickly sweet smile. "Do something about what, dear children?"

Draco gritted his teeth. "The first-years, Madame. They're ruining Hogwarts.*"

Her smile faltered slightly. "Ruining?"

"Yes!" I blurted out. "*They speak in a language none of us understand, they refuse to shut up about some muggle device called a smartphone, and they keep cursing each other out in weird, incomprehensible codes!"

Umbridge blinked. "And... this is a problem because?"

"Because I SAID SO!" Draco snapped. "*And I am a prefect! Which means this is an official concern!"

"It's an epidemic, Madame!" Blaise added dramatically. "A menace! Hogwarts is falling apart at the hands of the Gen Alpha!"

"It's true!" Kenny wailed. "I caught some of them throwing gang signs at each other, and when I told them to cut it out, one of them dabbed at me and said 'touch grass, boomer!'"

Umbridge's face was frozen in absolute bewilderment. "Touch... what?"

"TOUCH GRASS, BOOMER!" I repeated, still traumatized. "They said it with their whole chests, Madame! I am fifteen! They are eleven! WHO ARE THEY CALLING A BOOMER?"

"They called me 'based' the other day," Blaise muttered. "I don't even know what that means."

Draco looked genuinely haunted. "I— I saw one of them point at a Slytherin banner and say, 'nah, that's an L house.' An 'L' house, Selene." He grabbed my arm. "MY house."

"An L house, Malfoy!" Kenny gasped. "*They called you an L house! That's basically a slur!"

"EXACTLY!" Draco exclaimed. "We have to do something!"

Umbridge slowly lowered her teacup. "...What?"

We all stared at her.

And then Draco sighed. "*Merlin's beard... she doesn't know either."

"Madame," I said, voice heavy with defeat. "*Who is rizz?"

Her forehead creased. "*Who is who?"

"Rizz!" I cried. "They keep saying it! 'You have no rizz!' 'She's got ultimate rizz!' 'That's negative rizz!' WHO IS RIZZ?!"

Umbridge frowned deeply. "*Are... are you all quite well?"

"NO, WE AREN'T WELL!" Draco threw himself back into his chair, looking shattered. "We are dying, Madame!"

"This is an emergency, ma'am!" Blaise added, clutching his chest. "They have too much power! They fear nothing! They don't respect their elders!"

"*They're making fun of us, Madame!" Kenny declared. "They called me an 'NPC' the other day!"

Umbridge looked utterly lost. "*An NPC?"

Draco groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "See?! Even YOU don't understand them!"

"Madame," I pleaded. "*You must do something. Hogwarts is at stake!"

She sighed heavily and rubbed her temples. "I... will have a talk with the staff. And the first-years."

"*Oh, thank Merlin—"

"But only because I do not understand a single word of what you just said," she interrupted, squinting at us. "*Now, go on. Shoo. Back to your duties."

We dragged ourselves out of her office, physically and emotionally drained.

As soon as the door shut behind us, Blaise turned to Draco. "Did... did we just traumatize Umbridge?"

"I think so," Draco muttered, looking slightly proud. "At least now she knows what true suffering is."