“What’s wrong?” Neville leaned closer to Hylan.
“I’m…
I’m sorry.”
Theodore Nott’s fists were clenched, his face burning red, the words practically forced through his teeth.
He had never been humiliated like this in his life.
But with Hylan right there, he didn’t dare show a flicker of resistance.
Malfoy had been bored, staring at Harry.
Now he snapped to attention.
“Nott just apologized to Longbottom!”
“Merlin’s beard.
A Slytherin apologizing to a Gryffindor?”
“Hylan Prewett.
He did this.”
“Shaming our whole house.”
The Slytherins watching felt a hot rush of disgrace.
Nott was the one apologizing, sure.
But he was dragging Slytherin’s name through the mud with him.
And to a Gryffindor, of all people.
That made it ten times worse.
“I’m sorry, Mr.
Longbottom.
I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”
Neville’s brain stalled.
He stared at Theodore Nott’s slumped, defeated posture, barely believing it.
He’d been pushed around for years.
No one had ever apologized.
Not once.
And now a Slytherin was standing in front of him, doing exactly that.
It felt like a dream.
He glanced at Hylan.
He knew.
This was because of his friend.
“Alright.
I forgive you.” Neville nodded, accepting it.
The students around them erupted.
A Slytherin apologizing to a Gryffindor was huge.
Kids who had no idea what was going on scrambled to ask their neighbors.
What happened?
How?
A proud Slytherin, willingly apologizing to a Gryffindor?
And to Neville Longbottom, of all people.
The kid everyone walked all over.
Impossible.
“I saw the whole thing.
Last night in the common room, Hylan Prewett…”
The few who knew the story launched into it, faces smug with insider knowledge.
Naturally, the details got embellished along the way.
Hylan Prewett used some dark curse that nearly killed Theodore Nott.
Nott almost wet himself.
“Please.” Another kid dropped his voice to a whisper.
“I heard even Prefect Rowle was terrified.
Prewett was about to kill him too.”
“No way.” Gasps rippled through the group.
“Rowle’s a fifth-year!”
“How could a first-year beat him?”
“I told you, dark magic!”
“What dark magic?
I saw him use a basic Severing Charm.”
The stories tangled together, everyone guessing at Hylan’s real skill, whether he knew forbidden curses.
The whole classroom buzzed.
Even Professor McGonagall’s presence couldn’t quiet it.
“Why’s the desk shaking?” Harry looked down.
“It’s not the desk.
It’s me.” Ron’s voice trembled.
“We were talking about him behind his back on the way here.
What if he decides to put a dark curse through my skull?”
“He doesn’t seem like that kind of person…”
Hermione caught the whispers too.
She turned to Hylan, startled.
She ignored the wild rumors and zeroed in on what mattered.
“Are you hurt?
What happened?”
“I’m fine.
We practiced some spells last night.
Got to know each other.
It’s a Slytherin welcome tradition for new students.
Every house does things differently.
With everyone’s enthusiastic help, Mr.
Nott did some reflecting and wanted to apologize to Mr.
Longbottom.”
[Silver Tongue: Proficiency +1]
That counted?
I was telling the truth.
Hermione gave Theodore an odd look.
She wouldn’t have guessed it.
The boy could actually admit when he was wrong.
At the front of the room, Professor McGonagall watched the scene without appearing to.
The students’ versions of last night were obviously exaggerated.
But she pieced together the gist.
Hylan had stood up for a friend.
Yes, spells were involved.
But Theodore only lost some hair.
Hardly a catastrophe.
Hylan was a good kid.
What had that senile Sorting Hat been thinking, putting him in Slytherin?
“Thank you, Hylan.
Really.
Thank you.”
Neville’s face glowed.
He leaned halfway across his desk and clapped Hylan on the shoulder.
His whole life, he’d been bullied.
Never once had anyone apologized.
But the apology wasn’t the real gift.
What moved him, what made him proud, was knowing he had a friend like Hylan.
That was worth more than any apology.
“Hylan, be careful.” Hermione glanced back at the Slytherin students.
“A lot of them are giving you nasty looks.”
“I don’t know what the Sorting Hat was thinking.
Why put you in Slytherin?
Maybe Dumbledore forgot to clean it.
Too much dust.
Made it dizzy.”
Hermione was genuinely angry.
She still hadn’t let go of Hylan’s sorting result.
“Don’t worry.
I got along great with all of them.
Nothing to worry about.”
Hylan shrugged it off.
He didn’t need to think hard to know the Slytherins wouldn’t let this slide.
But that was exactly what made it interesting.
The old pureblood families had money and influence.
With Dumbledore around, they couldn’t actually do anything to him.
The worst they could manage was a little roughhousing.
So let the storm come.
The bigger the waves, the pricier the fish.
He just hoped these people could afford his rates.
Before that, though, he planned to learn every spell he could get his hands on.
He needed to get stronger.
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 wasn’t going to cut it.
“Hermione, want to hit the library with me after this?”
“Obviously.
First exams, I’m beating you.”
“You’d better work for it, then.”
“Your confidence is bigger than Merlin’s beard.”
They looked at each other and laughed.
They’d been competing since primary school.
First place had bounced back and forth between them.
Hylan made sure of that.
Always coming in second would’ve crushed the girl’s spirit.
Letting her win sometimes kept her hungry.
And it pushed him to improve.
Win-win.
Ron overheard them making library plans and looked genuinely baffled.
“People actually like the library?
Is it more comfortable to sleep there or something?”
“Try it and find out.”
“Pass.
I can get the same experience right here.” Ron flopped onto his desk.
“Wake me when the professor shows up.”