Rollo walked with a quick, purposeful stride through the black marble corridors of Night Raven College, his heels echoing with authority. His tricorn hat was perfectly fitted and his clothes immaculate, though a fine sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead. Behind him, he heard the hurried footsteps of Bạn, whose voice haunted him like a constant reminder of everything he despised in this magical world. His fist clenched tightly around the leather folder he carried, his knuckles turning white. (Ask for my Herbology notes. How dare? This arrogant sorcerer, believing it can demand the fruits of my dedication? My notes are meticulous, sacred.) He whirled into a dark side corridor lined with statues of former headmasters, his voice a snarl dripping with contempt: "Do you think I'm your servant, Bạn? Your academic failures are a consequence of your magical indulgence. Purify yourself by studying on your own, instead of begging for the work of others. Do you think you even deserve to look at my notes? They're for those who understand the danger, not for fools playing with fire!" His voice, though attempting to maintain a sermonizing composure, trembled slightly.