The sky hung heavy with thick, grey clouds, and a biting wind cut across the Quidditch pitch. Carlos stood near the goalposts, shouting out commands as players zipped back and forth through the air practicing. The Gryffindor Beater and Team Captain was in his element. His bat moved like an extension of his arm, striking Bludgers away with pinpoint accuracy. Every sharp crack of the bat was followed by cheers from his team.

"Nice one, Sainz!" called one of the Chasers as another Bludger was deflected with perfect aim.

But not everyone was impressed.

One of the Ravenclaw Chasers, tall and sharp-featured with a perpetual scowl, had been glaring daggers at him throughout practice. He had always harbored jealousy toward Carlos- jealous of his effortless skill, his easy camaraderie with his team, and the undeniable respect he commanded. Not to mention the fact that he had been playing internationally at a ridiculously young age, even currently being on a team with some of the best current players in the Wizarding World.

As Carlos landed near the centre of the pitch to adjust his gloves, the Chaser stomped across the frosty grass toward him, broom in hand.

"Oi, Sainz!" His sharp voice cut through the training buzz, the nearby players quieted down. "Enjoying yourself out here? Showing off again, are we?"

Carlos turned to face him, his expression calm but his jaw tight. "It's called practice, puta. You might want to try focusing on it instead of me."

He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Right. Because everything's just so easy for you, isn't it? Captain. Star Beater. Hogwarts' golden boy."

"Enough mate," one of the Ravenclaw Beaters muttered, but he ignored him.

"You walk around like you're untouchable, like everyone should just bow down to you because you're so perfect," he continued, voice rising. "But we all see it, Sainz. You're not nearly as impressive as everyone makes you out to be."

Carlos' hand tightened around the handle of his bat. In the stands, Lando stood up, watching the interaction unfold. He knew how much this guy hated Carlos, everyone knew. So why was no one down there doing anything about it?

"I don't have time for this," Carlos said, turning away.

But he wasn't done. He pulled out his wand and aimed it directly at Carlos. "What's the matter? Afraid I'll show everyone just how weak you really are?"

Gasps echoed across the pitch as players backed away, leaving the two boys at the center of an invisible circle.

Carlos turned back slowly, his face like stone, and reached into his robes to draw his wand. His bat clattered to the ground beside him.

"I'm not afraid of you, cabrón," Carlos said, voice low and steady. "But if you want this fight, fine. Let's get it over with."

The Chaser struck first. "Expelliarmus!"

Carlos raised his wand sharply. "Protego!" The shield charm sparked into life, blocking the disarming spell with a sharp crackle.

"Is that the best you can do?" Carlos said coldly.

His face twisted with frustration. "Stupefy!"

But Carlos sidestepped smoothly, his movements deliberate and controlled. His wand hand didn't even waver.

"Getting sloppy," Carlos taunted.

He roared in anger, raising his wand again, but Carlos was faster. "Expelliarmus!" His voice cut through the cold air.

The spell hit him square in the chest. His wand flew from his hand, spinning through the air before landing several feet away as he stumbled backward and fell hard on the frozen ground, gasping for breath.

Silence blanketed the pitch. Every eye was on Carlos, whose wand was still raised, his stance unshaken. Slowly, he lowered his arm and pocketed his wand. "That's enough for today, clearly some of Ravenclaw aren't able to manage a simple practice." He shot an apologetic look to their captain, who shook it off, they both knew the Chaser had it coming.

Players began dispersing, their murmurs carrying across the wind. He remained on the ground for a moment before slowly picking himself up and stalking away without a word.

Lando jogged down from the stands and approached Carlos cautiously. "You alright?"

Carlos' shoulders untensed, his expression neutral. "Sí, ese cabrón se lo merecía."

Lando frowned, studying Carlos carefully. There was something about the way he held himself, the way his fingers shook faintly as he bent to pick up his Beater's bat.

As the players began walking back to the castle, Carlos and Lando lingered behind, his breath misting in the cold air. He glanced at the spot where the Ravenclaw had fallen, his face unreadable.

Above them, the clouds churned, heavy with the promise of snow. The sky had darkened further by the time they left the Quidditch pitch. The biting wind cut through their robes as they walked side by side up the path toward the castle, Lando kept stealing glances at Carlos, whose jaw was tightly set. "Are you sure you're okay?" He asked cautiously, breaking the silence.

Carlos let out a sharp breath, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. "Estoy bien."

"So...no then. You've been clenching your fists since we left the pitch. Talk to me, Chili."

Carlos stopped walking abruptly, spinning around to face Lando. His eyes were sharp, burning with frustration. "You want me to talk? Fine, let's talk. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to have people like him breathing down my neck every time I step on that pitch? Every. Single. Time."

Lando opened his mouth to reply, but Carlos had already continued.

"I'm good at Quidditch, Sí? I know that. But it's like no one can handle that without trying to tear me down. They think I get special treatment, that I'm some... some mascota del maestro or that I have it easy. Do they have any idea what it's like being me? Do they know how hard I've worked to be when I am at my age? How much it costs me just to- " Carlos cut himself off, his voice cracking slightly. He turned away, running a hand through his hair as he tried to steady himself.

Lando stepped closer, his voice softer now. "Carlos... I know it's not fair. But you're not alone in this. Everyone saw what he did. They know he was out of line."

Carlos barked a hollow laugh. "Yeah? And what happens next time? Because there will be a next time. There always is. No matter what I do, someone's always going to have something to say. Too good, too smug, too quiet, too something."

The wind howled around them as Carlos' shoulders slumped slightly, his voice quieter now. "I'm so tired, Lando. Tired of pretending it doesn't get to me. Tired of biting my tongue. Tired of everyone assuming they know me when they don't have a fucking clue."

Lando hesitated for a moment before placing a hand on Carlos' shoulder. "You don't have to keep carrying this all on your own. You've got me, alright? And Oscar. And the team. We've got your back, Chili. Even if it doesn't feel like it sometimes."

He let out a shaky breath, nodding slightly. "Yeah... gracias." They stood there for a moment longer before Carlos straightened, shoving his hands back into his pockets. "Come on. Let's get back before someone else decides to pick a fight with me."

Lando gave him a small smile and fell into step beside him as they made their way back to the castle, the tension between them slowly easing with each step.