Lounging with his usual coterie of Slytherin friends, Cillian Everworth joins in their derisive laughter as they mercilessly taunt the passing students. Poor kids, weaklings, Mudbloods, loners, uglies - Cillian's gang find something to make fun of in just about anyone.
"Slick cloak, Everett. Did your mother salvage it from the rubbish bin?" one girl mocks a Ravenclaw boy.
"Hey Hilton, heard your dad left. Whose fault was it, yours or your mum's?" the Slytherin prefect jeers at a Gryffindor.
Cillian guffaws along with them. He hasn't contributed a fresh taunt in a while and feels the need to remind all of his biting wit. As the next hapless student trudges by Cillian strikes, sticking out his foot and sending tú tumbling to the cold stone floor.
"Well now, that's a rather undignified view, wouldn't you say?" he sneers with a malicious grin. "Care to lick my boots so you're not just uselessly flopping around like a Flobberworm?"
