"You'd better put his things down." Malfoy parroted, mocking, "Potter, what do you take me for? Your little lackey?"
"The Savior can order Gryffindor around."
"But I'm a Slytherin."
Harry didn't speak. He only gave him a detached look, staring straight at him.
"Let's have a match, Potter." Malfoy held up his broom. "If, and I'm just saying if, you can beat me, I'll give the things back to you."
"Don't you have the guts?"
"Well? The great Savior—"
Harry shook his head. "Don't make me say it a third time, Malfoy. Give the things back."
"What, too scared?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow, taking Harry's attitude as backing down, and grew smug. "Turns out the Savior has times when he's scared, too?"
"Let me think, where should I hide this piece of junk?"
"Find a random tree, throw it in a bird's nest, and then watch and enjoy how Longbottom cries, hugging the trunk and shedding disgusting tears and snot—"
"Malfoy!" Harry deepened his voice and took a step forward.
Malfoy instinctively stepped back half a step; what happened on the train was still fresh in his memory.
Yet he glanced back and saw not only Crabbe and Goyle today, but other Slytherin students as well. Even if a fight broke out, could Potter beat his whole gang?
Having numbers on his side bolstered his courage, making him arrogant again as he stepped back forward. "What, you want to throw punches?"
"Does Gryffindor only have barbarian, crude muscles in their heads?"
"We are wizards, noble wizards, Potter."
Harry shook his head and sighed. "Malfoy, do you remember what you said on the train?"
Malfoy was taken aback.
Harry continued, "You told me not to hang out with trash like Ron."
Ron, standing nearby, was also taken aback. He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth with the air of someone ready to fight Malfoy to the death at Harry's single word.
The unexpected remark made him deflate abruptly, and he looked at Harry in bewilderment.
Wait...
What are you doing!
I'm your teammate.
Who hurts their own teammate right before a fight breaks out...
Malfoy sneered, preparing to hurl a few insults of his own.
Yet his mouth wasn't as fast as Harry's: "So someone who isn't trash just uses bullying others for amusement to set off your own top-tier nobility?"
"That being said, exactly who is the trash here?"
Malfoy's expression changed abruptly, and he glared fiercely at Harry.
Harry took another step forward.
"I have no intention of meddling in your childish, harmless little games." Harry waved a hand and went on. "Childish, stupid, boring—only daring, and only able, to pick on the timid and weak."
In the Witcher world, he was very young, only in his forties—which in the long and ancient history of the Witchers was still just a child.
Yet he had seen or heard enough of the court intrigues in those human kingdoms.
He was entirely qualified to say that Malfoy's petty antics were small-time.
Every word was like a knife, every sentence like a slash, twisting Malfoy's heart with dull pain and turning his face increasingly pale.
"Yet Gryffindor calls me the Lion King—though mostly as a joke." Harry's tone grew softer, yet the cat-like pupils in his eyes grew increasingly stern. "You should know what the leader of a pride does when faced with this sort of thing."
"Malfoy, of all things, you should not have repeatedly provoked me, and provoked Gryffindor."
Malfoy opened his mouth.
He was a step too late again.
"Axii!"
Harry raised his hand, and a beam of white light surged from his fingertips, landing on Malfoy's head.
The platinum-blond boy's eyes instantly went hazy and vacant, and he stood there blankly, foolishly entranced.
"Throw the stuff over." Harry crooked a finger.
Malfoy docilely and obediently threw the Remembrall, which landed lightly in Harry's hand.
Pansy watched in terror, her voice sharp and piercing: "Potter, what did you do to Malfoy? You actually dared to use the Imperius Curse on him!"
"You actually dared to use an Unforgivable Curse."
Hermione gasped as well: "Harry, how could you cast a spell on a classmate?"
"You're going to lose house points for this."
The other Little Lions, who had been getting ready to applaud and cheer, looked at Hermione in astonishment—how could a normal person say something like that?
Harry raised an eyebrow. "This isn't any Imperius Curse, just a little trick..."
Pansy had no intention of listening to his explanation. She kept screaming, drawing her wand: "Quick, take down Potter and rescue Malfoy!"
A red beam of light shot toward him, and Harry didn't even bother to dodge—the Charm's aim was good, striking a broom on the ground dead center.
Ron raised his arm and shouted, his anger having built up from the very beginning: "Hit them! Teach these Slytherins a lesson!"
The young wizards drew their wands, exchanging spells they hadn't learned much of yet.
Only Hermione was screaming: "Stop fighting!"
"Cut it out!"
"This is against school rules!"
It was completely useless; no one listened to her.
As the "mastermind" who had provoked it all, Harry drew the most firepower and also contributed the greatest output. Not a single Slytherin remained standing after taking a punch from Harry.
Moments later, the ground was a mess.
Malfoy just barely regained his senses. He looked around the ground in panic—the little snakes lying every which way, groaning: "Potter, what did you do?"
Ron made a sneak attack, kicking Malfoy hard in the rear: "Down you go, too!"
Hermione frowned: "Harry, no, if Professor McGonagall finds out about this, she'll be furious."
Ron curled his lip, pinning Malfoy down as he yelled, "Hermione, now is not the time to discuss whether we broke school rules!"
"Exactly!" Seamus said, his face glowing with excitement. "This is about defending the house's honor!"
The other Little Lions stood on Ron's side as well—they were still immersed in the intense joy of winning their very first group fight.
The Slytherins were a lot more subdued now. They shrank into a corner of the grounds, especially Malfoy, who was clutching his left eye socket and glaring malevolently at the Gryffindors.
Madam Hooch returned shortly.
She keenly perceived the abnormal atmosphere; the two or three broken broomsticks on the ground spoke volumes.
"Can anyone tell me what happened after I left?" Madam Hooch swept her cold gaze over them.
Hermione hesitated.
Malfoy poked his head out like a turtle and raised his hand high: "Professor, after you left, Gryffindor, egged on by Potter, beat us up."
"And Potter even used the Imperius Curse on me!"
Madam Hooch's expression changed abruptly.
Fighting and brawling had to be put aside for the moment.
The Imperius Curse...
That was a huge deal.
"Mr. Potter?" Madam Hooch asked with a stern face.
Harry was very calm: "Mr. Malfoy is exaggerating. I did most of the hitting myself; the others didn't really participate much."
Aside from Harry's fists.
The greatest output probably belonged to the kick Ron delivered to Malfoy's backside—even the broomstick had contributed more output than Ron, since Malfoy's bruised eye socket had come from slamming into a broom handle.
"No, no, no, I'm not asking about the fight." Madam Hooch shook her head. "The Imperius Curse, he said you used the Imperius Curse."
"Professor, can a first-year young wizard tell the difference between a Confusion Charm and the Imperius Curse?" Harry countered.
Malfoy piled on: "But I didn't know anything at the time, I just obediently listened to your orders—"
Harry raised his hand. "Then, Mr. Malfoy, would you like to go through it again so Madam Hooch can see?"
Malfoy's face turned white and his body shook.
Madam Hooch's expression softened somewhat; she was more inclined to believe Harry's account.
As one of the Unforgivable Curses, it was very difficult for a first-year young wizard to have any way of coming into contact with it.
Let alone successfully casting it.
And most importantly...
Harry was the Savior—that halo naturally kept Harry far away from Dark Magic.
"All right, Mr. Potter, I believe you, but this matter is very serious. The professors were gone, yet you started a fight and caused a disturbance. I have no choice... Gryffindor loses twenty points!" Madam Hooch pressed Harry's hand down, her tone stern.
Hermione's heart ached, and her face twisted in distress—twenty points was the equivalent of the score she and Harry had to sweat over in class for a week, if not longer, and that wasn't even factoring in Snape's picking on them.
"Professor, perhaps you should hear my testimony?" Harry said without changing expression.
Madam Hooch nodded.
"The cause of this incident was that Mr. Malfoy picked up something Neville dropped and refused to return it." Harry spread his hands. "I don't mean to excuse myself, but the fault is not entirely on our side."
"Is that so?" Madam Hooch looked at Malfoy.
Malfoy argued to clear his name: "No, it was just a joke—who knew Potter couldn't take a joke and would cast a spell on me after barely saying two words?"
"A joke that others cannot accept is not a joke, Mr. Malfoy." Harry's voice was eerie as he cut him off.
Madam Hooch waved a hand. "Then... Slytherin loses ten points."
"This is your punishment, Mr. Malfoy."
Malfoy clenched his fists.
"No more making trouble! Behave yourselves." Madam Hooch narrowed her eyes, reprimanding the remaining young wizards. "Now, I am taking Mr. Potter to see Professor McGonagall."
"No!" Hermione's face turned pale. "Professor, Harry already knows he was wrong."
"Yes, you've already deducted points." Ron's expression shifted as well.
Madam Hooch shook her head. "It's about the spell—your Head of House needs to know. While I'm very willing to believe Mr. Potter, an Unforgivable Curse is never a small matter."
Harry nodded at them with a slight smile. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."
Madam Hooch sighed and shook her head, leading Harry away toward Professor McGonagall's office—though she was the most leisurely professor in all of Hogwarts, with fewer than ten classes a year.
She definitely counted as one of the most mentally exhausted people around.
In flying lessons, anything could happen, and now they even had a group brawl. If one day a bunch of Dementors suddenly popped up during class, she wouldn't even be surprised anymore.
Inside the office.
After Professor McGonagall finished listening to Madam Hooch's statement, her face was ice-cold and stern: "Mr. Potter, I always thought you would be the student who gave me the least trouble!"
"And yet you go and pull a stunt like this!"
Her heart ached; she should have guessed it—how could anyone from the Potter family ever behave themselves!
"Gryffindor loses twenty points!"
Madam Hooch chimed in to remind her: "Minerva, I've already deducted those."
"Then lose another twenty points." Professor McGonagall took a deep breath. "The term has barely begun, and you're leading Gryffindor and Slytherin in a mass brawl."
"No young wizard has ever done such a thing!"
Harry offered no defense for himself.
"Never mind, let's talk about that spell first." Professor McGonagall's expression relaxed slightly, her tone turning softer. "Take out your wand, Mr. Potter."
Harry was obedient and docile, drawing his wand from the Sorting Hat.