The incident with Neville's broken wrist had barely settled when another scene unfolded on the training grounds. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the field, its golden light glinting off the scattered remnants of the flying lesson. Students milled about, some chatting idly while others whispered about the earlier fiasco.
Amidst the trampled grass, a small object gleamed under the sunlight—a delicate orb of red glass.
Pansy Parkinson, ever the opportunist, bent down and picked it up, turning it in her hands. The Remembrall's surface shimmered faintly, a hint of magic pulsing within. It was Neville's, the trinket he had dropped in the chaos of his disastrous flight.
Before she could inspect it further, an angry voice cut through the air.
"Give that back, Parkinson!"
Ron Weasley stormed toward her, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His face was flushed, his temper barely restrained as he glared at the Slytherin girl.
Draco Malfoy, lounging nearby with the usual air of practiced disinterest, raised an eyebrow at the confrontation. His silver eyes flickered between Pansy and Ron, mildly entertained.
Pansy barely spared Ron a glance before turning to Draco instead. "I was just picking it up," she said smoothly, tilting her head slightly.
Ron, however, wasn't convinced. His frustration, simmering since the start of the lesson, now boiled over.
"Lies! Don't think I don't know about you Slytherins. You probably want to steal it!"
At once, the atmosphere shifted. The idle murmurs died down as the Slytherins present turned their sharp gazes onto Ron, their expressions darkening like a pack of wolves scenting blood.
Even Draco, who had initially found the situation amusing, grew irritated at Ron's accusation. Pansy, still gripping the Remembrall, narrowed her eyes, her posture stiffening as though she were ready to lash out.
Before she could, however, another voice cut through the tension.
"Ron," Hermione said, stepping forward, her voice firm yet calm. "I think she just wanted to give the Remembrall back to Neville. Don't make such a big deal out of it."
Silence followed.
Pansy turned to Hermione, her gaze unreadable. There was no immediate retort, no sneer—just a momentary pause.
Ron, on the other hand, looked absolutely livid. His hands trembled at his sides as his pent-up frustration finally erupted.
"Fuck off, you dark witch!" he spat, his words carrying more venom than intended.
Hermione flinched—not from fear, but from the sheer hostility in Ron's voice. Her lips parted as if to argue.
"I—"
Before she could finish, a new voice rang out, sharp and commanding.
"Weasley."
The single word carried an undeniable authority, forcing Ron to turn.
Harry Potter stepped forward, his emerald eyes cold and piercing as they locked onto Ron with unwavering intensity. The easygoing demeanor he usually carried was gone, replaced by something sharper, something dangerous.
"Do you think that if you keep barking in front of me, I'll just stand still and listen to whatever insults you throw at me and my friends?" His voice was calm, but the warning beneath it was unmistakable.
A slow smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.
"This is my last warning to you, Weasley. Next time, I'll throw you straight into the lake."
The Slytherins practically purred with amusement, their eyes gleaming with approval. Some exchanged smirks, while others barely contained their chuckles.
Ron took an instinctive step back, his bravado wavering under Harry's gaze.
Satisfied, Harry turned his attention to Pansy and held out his hand. "Give it here."
For the first time since the argument started, Pansy hesitated. Then, without a word, she placed the Remembrall in his palm.
Harry studied the fragile little orb for a moment. Then, without warning—
CRACK!
He smashed it against the ground.
The glass shattered instantly, fragments catching the sunlight as they scattered across the dirt. A few students gasped. Others merely watched in stunned silence.
On the Gryffindor side, outrage simmered.
Ron's face twisted in fury, his fists clenching so tightly they trembled. But there was nothing he could do—Harry had already turned away, completely unfazed.
"You'll get what's coming to you," Ron muttered, his voice low and filled with seething resentment. With a final glare, he spun on his heel and stalked off, the other Gryffindors following close behind.
A light breeze rustled the grass in their wake.
Hermione, still watching Harry, finally spoke, her voice quieter than usual. "Why did you break it?"
Harry didn't hesitate. "For you."
Hermione blinked at him, caught off guard. "For me?"
Harry turned to her, his smirk returning. "I don't like it when someone insults you."
Hermione huffed, crossing her arms. "Hmph. You don't have to worry about me. You should worry about yourself—you might get expelled."
Harry simply shrugged. "Don't worry. While there may be some consequences, nothing too serious will happen. And besides, Snape won't give me any real punishment."
Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "Oh, poor Neville. First his wrist, now his Remembrall."
Harry, however, looked utterly indifferent. "I'll find a way to make up for it."
"You better."
Before they could continue, an unpleasantly familiar voice interrupted them.
"Potter. Granger. Professor Snape is calling for you."
They turned to see Filch standing nearby, his face twisted into a nasty grin. His yellowed eyes gleamed with a sort of twisted satisfaction.
Draco and the other Slytherins base farewell watching as the duo was escorted away.
As they walked toward the dungeons, Hermione glanced sideways at Harry, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Why are you so sure Dumbledore won't expel you?"
Harry's smirk widened.
"Because I'm the famous savior. The Harry Potter."
Hermione rolled her eyes but, despite herself, smiled.
The corridors stretched ahead, dark and foreboding, as the two prepared to face whatever awaited them in Snape's office.
To be continued...