Noon,
The Great Hall.
"Hmph, you guys didn't see it, but Malfoy was suspended in mid-air, and Harry made a sudden dash, directly knocking Malfoy flying!"
Ron, holding a large chicken leg, was gesticulating wildly.
He was embellishing Harry's "glorious" deeds.
Many students gathered around the long table, mostly from Gryffindor.
There was no other way; they loved hearing stories of Slytherin getting humiliated.
As Ron told his tale, the Lions alternately laughed and cheered.
However, Harry, the protagonist of the story, looked troubled.
He knew he was in trouble when he saw Malfoy fall and get injured, and he was sure to be reprimanded by a teacher.
But from the morning classes until now, no teacher had co looking for him.
This waiting before the inevitable was the most agonizing part.
Harry nervously looked up at Lucien across the table, only to find that Lucien was also looking at him, and he imdiately lowered his gaze again.
After listening to Ron's exaggerated bragging, Lucien had probably pieced together the incident.
It was basically no different from the original plot: a conflict over the Rembrall, leading to a broomstick showdown.
But how did Malfoy fall?
Was he really knocked flying by Harry?
Ron even claid that Malfoy broke both his legs, both his arms, and practically every bone in his body.
Lucien didn't believe it was as severe as Ron made it out to be, but the injuries certainly couldn't be light, given that Malfoy had fallen directly from a high altitude.
Fortunately, Professor McGonagall had arrived at the scene in ti, stabilized Malfoy's injuries, and imdiately sent him to the hospital wing.
Also, why did Harry look so guilty? Shouldn't he try to look innocent?
"Harry, co with . The Headmaster wants to see you."
A commanding voice rang out, imdiately silencing the young wizards' chatter.
Professor McGonagall, wearing square spectacles, appeared by the long table and called Harry away.
Lucien mused that this incident was no small matter if it required a conversation with the Headmaster.
…
Harry followed Professor McGonagall, nervously walking into the Headmaster's office.
He wasn't in the mood to observe the room's decor, but he did notice a glass cabinet in the center.
He couldn't help it; it was so big and bright, truly conspicuous.
Only one item was displayed inside the cabinet: a patched, grayish-white hat.
"Hey, you kid nad Harry Potter, do I look good like this now?"
Harry actually heard the hat speak.
"Hey, why aren't you talking? Didn't you just wear at the Opening Ceremony? Have you forgotten already?"
Harry's eyes widened.
"You're the Sorting Hat? Weren't you grayish-brown back then?!"
"Yes, I was originally grayish-white; it's just been a long ti since I was cleaned."
Suddenly, a cold voice interrupted Harry's conversation with the Sorting Hat.
"Potter, co and tell us how you managed to injure Draco Malfoy."
Harry followed the voice and shivered.
Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore were sitting at the table, the forr scrutinizing him with icy eyes.
"Ah, Harry, my boy, don't be afraid. Sit down first, and just tell us what happened."
Dumbledore said with a chuckle, signaling Snape not to scare the student.
Harry swallowed and sat down.
Clink—
Professor McGonagall placed a small tin can on the table with a crisp sound.
Seeing the tin can, Harry's pupils contracted.
That was the can for the Sleeping Draught; he hadn't found it on the Quidditch pitch when he went to look for it afterward.
"Mr. Potter, is this potion yours?"
Professor McGonagall looked at Harry with a serious expression.
She had found it near Malfoy. Although she was the Head of Gryffindor, she would not cover for a student from her own house.
Especially when a student might have misused a potion and caused injury to another, Professor McGonagall had to deal with the matter fairly.
Harry's face went pale, and he nodded blankly.
"Severus, please identify what kind of potion this is."
Snape slowly picked up the tin can.
He had just caught a faint orchid scent emanating from it and felt it was familiar, yet wrong.
After carefully examining the residue inside, Snape's expression imdiately turned grim.
This was Sleeping Draught—an improved Sleeping Draught!
The improved formula that Lucien had exchanged with him.
Currently, in the school, only Lucien and he should have been able to brew this potion.
How could it be connected to Lucien?
"Sleeping Draught, a sleeping effect—effective on wizards and, well, on magical creatures too."
Snape briefly introduced the potion but did not ntion the improved version.
"Potter, what was this potion used for?"
Harry did not answer imdiately.
His hands trembled on his lap as he kept replaying the incident in his mind.
I brewed the Sleeping Draught myself, I lit it and threw it, I caused Malfoy to fall and get injured…
I can't ntion Lucien. This matter can't involve him, it has nothing to do with him…
Harry rembered Lucien's words, his teachings, his respect, his trust…
Harry suddenly stiffened his neck and said loudly: "I brewed this potion myself! And I used it on Malfoy myself!"
Dumbledore and the other two were startled by Harry's sudden outburst.
They looked at Harry's stubborn, erald-green almond eyes, a little blurry behind his glasses but still clearly filled with defiance.
Then they looked at that annoying, obstinate face.
Snape's forehead was instantly covered in black lines.
"I asked you what this potion was used for, not whether you brewed it yourself!"
Snape's aning was to have Harry admit that the potion was intended for magical creatures, and not deliberately used to prank or harm a classmate.
Harry cald down a bit.
"I—I haven't been sleeping well since I ca to Hogwarts, so I used it to help sleep."
This excuse was far-fetched, but it was better than saying it had been used to prank a classmate.
Besides, Harry genuinely hadn't intended to harm Malfoy at the ti; he had just instantly thought of what seed like the most effective thod, and his actions had been faster than his thoughts, so he hadn't considered such serious consequences.
As a pure little Lion, it was regrettable, but also quite reasonable.
Snape shook his head.
"Harry Potter misused a potion, causing accidental injury to a classmate. The punishnt is to copy the school rules ten tis, and work as a volunteer in the hospital wing for one hour a day for one week. Gryffindor will lose fifty points."
"Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, do you think this is feasible?"
Upon hearing this resolution, Dumbledore and McGonagall were actually sowhat surprised.
The punishnt seed not light, but Snape had characterized the incident as an "accident," which was a veiled protection for Harry.
McGonagall didn't understand why Snape had let Harry off so "lightly."
It was well known that Lucius Malfoy, as one of the school governors, would surely co to him, the Head of Slytherin, to demand an explanation for his son's sake.
And Dumbledore knew so hidden details, but he also felt that Snape had handled this matter quite lightly this ti.
Dumbledore said seriously and earnestly:
"I think it's fine, but there's one thing, Harry—you must apologize to the injured classmate, a sincere apology. I know the cause of your conflict, but you also made a mistake, and Malfoy has paid a price."
"You are classmates, not enemies, and you should not hate each other."
Harry nodded firmly.
"I know I was wrong, and I am willing to accept the punishnt."
After talking a while longer, Harry left the Headmaster's office.
The mont he walked out the door, he puffed out his chest again.
Harry Potter would not betray a friend. Harry Potter did not betray a friend.
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