The Gryffindor first-years facepalmed, quietly taking a few steps back to put distance between themselves and Vichi Slugg.
Jerail let out a cold snort and chimed in with dripping sarcasm:
“Oh dear, how terribly wrong of me!
How could an insignificant Ravenclaw like me possibly lay a finger on a Gryffindor hero who defeated You-Know-Who?
The great Headmaster Dumbledore will surely draw his wand and cast the Killing Curse on a humble, worthless Ravenclaw like me.”
“For the sake of Ravenclaw’s future, perhaps I should head straight to the Headmaster’s office and beg him to declare Gryffindor the first-class citizens of Hogwarts, and the rest of the houses second-class citizens.
That way, second-class citizens can never fight back and must obey the first-class citizens’ every command without question.
How does that sound?”
Jerail activated his Byakugan, staring intently at the mass of magical energy within Vichi’s body.
He resolved that if another foul word left Vichi Slugg’s mouth, he would use the Hyuga Gentle Fist to seal the boy’s magic flow, letting him experience firsthand what it felt like to be a Squib at the absolute bottom of the magical hierarchy.
Damn it.
Why did it feel like no matter how hard he tried to escape the Hyuga Main House, its shadow popped up everywhere he went?
Discrimination, oppression, false accusations, hiding behind powerful figures, using big titles to bully others…
They were just kids attending school—how were they already so adept at this nonsense?
He just wanted to live a peaceful life.
Was that really so much to ask?!
The angrier Jerail got, the harder it was to control his emotions, causing the veins around his eyes to bulge outward prominent against his skin.
This terrified Professor Flitwick.
By Merlin!
He had heard from Minerva about this poor child—an unknown spell had left prominent marks on him, and it was still unclear whether there were hidden long-term side effects.
Flitwick had assumed that at Hogwarts, surrounded by experienced and powerful professors who could look after him, the child could enjoy a wonderful childhood.
How could magical sequelae be showing up on only his second day?
This wouldn’t do.
He had to be rushed to the Hospital Wing immediately.
If it damaged the child’s brain, all would be lost!
“Hey—wait, Professor Flitwick?!” A furious Jerail was caught off guard as Professor Flitwick flicked his wand, sending Jerail floating into the air.
His arms and legs flailed helplessly.
“Don’t be afraid, child!
Madam Pomfrey will fix you up.
Just relax, I’ll be right beside you.” Professor Flitwick gave Jerail no chance to explain.
His spellwork was lightning-fast, and in the next second, the two of them vanished from the classroom.
By the time Jack and the other young wizards realized what Professor Flitwick’s words implied, the room exploded into chaos.
Tears sprang to Jack’s eyes instantly.
He pointed at Vichi Slugg with grief and rage, shouting, “You just wait!
If anything happens to Jerail, I’m never letting you off!”
Vichi Slugg was in absolute despair.
*If I say I didn’t do anything, will any of you actually believe me?*
*Please, just believe me, okay?!*
The Ravenclaw students rushed out in a swarm, charging toward the Hospital Wing.
***
Jerail lay on a bed in the Hospital Wing, deadpan and numb, letting Madam Pomfrey run diagnostic spell after diagnostic spell over him while Professor Flitwick paced anxiously beside them.
“Poppy, give Mr.
Print a thorough checkup, especially his eyes!
Poor child…
Minerva said his father blocked a Killing Curse for him, but the spell mutated, leaving his eyes affected.
Even if nothing seems wrong now, it’s impossible to guarantee there aren’t hidden dangers!” Professor Flitwick floated near the head of Jerail’s bed, his face full of anguish.
“Look at him, he doesn’t even have an expression!
By Merlin, he hasn’t lost his emotions, has he?!”
Jerail: “…”
First of all, he had never said it was a Killing Curse.
He had explicitly said it was an unknown dark curse!
Madam Pomfrey nodded in solemn agreement, casting a flurry of colorful diagnostic charms.
Only after a long moment did she let out a gentle sigh of relief and smile.
“Rest easy, Filius.
Mr.
Print was simply angry.
There’s no major harm done.”
As she spoke, the doors to the Hospital Wing burst open with a loud *bang*.
Professor Snape glided inside with long, sweeping strides.
Behind him, a crowd of Ravenclaw first-years could be seen huddled near the doorway, peering inside nervously, none of them daring to step through.
“Mr.
Print, it seems you haven’t spared the poor Charms professor either.
Could it be that your peculiar head has come up with yet another novel insight regarding magic?”
Professor Snape scrutinized Jerail, handing over a bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion as he spoke.
“Drink it.
It guarantees you will be completely…
out…
cold.”
“Severus,” Madam Pomfrey warned with a helpless look, before gently urging Jerail to drink the potion.
“Don’t worry, child.
Produced by a Potions Master, the effects are exceptional.
It will ensure you wake up with all your troubles forgotten.”
Jerail looked down at the bottle, feeling a sudden wave of warmth from the Hogwarts professors’ genuine concern.
Professor McGonagall was strict and fair, prioritizing a young wizard’s safety enough to inform all the professors in advance to monitor his eyes.
Professor Flitwick was fiercely protective of his students, personally escorting him to the Hospital Wing.
Madam Pomfrey didn’t dismiss him just because he was young, meticulously running tests—some of which Jerail recognized as complex diagnostic magic targeting dark forces.
And Professor Snape, despite his sharp tongue and foul temper, still brought over a top-grade potion.
For the first time in a long while, Jerail felt the familiar sense of respect and care he had once known back in modern society.
Jerail’s eyes stung slightly, and he couldn’t help blinking.
Noticing Jerail’s slightly reddened eyes, Professor Snape fell silent for a fraction of a second.
He had merely come to keep an eye on a certain individual himself.
Besides, his pride as a Potions Master wouldn’t allow him to brew inferior potions.
The brat shouldn’t get flattering ideas.
“What exactly happened?
Don’t tell me You-Know-Who has returned to Hogwarts specifically to launch a sneak attack on a Ravenclaw first-year?” Professor Snape drawled out his words, his tone dripping with mock sarcasm.
Professor Flitwick: “…”
Madam Pomfrey: “…”
They should have known better than to expect anything pleasant from Severus’s mouth.
Professor Flitwick sighed.
Ah well, Severus had been like this since his student days.
One could only hope that being a teacher would eventually temper his temper.
Professor Flitwick gave a brief account of the altercation in the classroom.
Upon hearing it, Madam Pomfrey slammed her hand down onto the desk in anger.
“I told Albus long ago that maintaining stability after the war was the most important thing!
He cannot keep enabling Gryffindor’s arrogant attitude.
Hogwarts has always been a combination of four houses; no single house should dominate the others.
He is simply too soft-hearted!”
Remembering how he had been forced to forgive a werewolf years ago, and forced to accept a debt of gratitude to that bastard Potter, Professor Snape felt as though he had swallowed a cluster of Cockroach Clusters.
Disgusted, he sneered:
“Hmph.
When has he ever *not* favored Gryffindor?
In his eyes, I suppose even if a Gryffindor committed murder, it would be brushed aside lightly.”
“Severus, you know Albus wouldn’t do that,” Professor Flitwick said disapprovingly.
“Hmph!” Unable to vent his frustration, Professor Snape turned his glare back onto Jerail.
“Mr.
Print, while Mr.
Slugg was entirely in the wrong, you chose to retaliate on your own instead of seeking assistance from a professor, which ultimately prompted Mr.
Slugg to utter such unacceptable remarks.
For that, ten points will be taken from Ravenclaw, and you are assigned one month of detention.”
“Ahem, Severus, I’ve already handed Mr.
Slugg detention.
I believe it would be best if those two don’t see each other anytime soon,” Professor Flitwick hurriedly intervened to save the situation.
Although he also felt Jerail’s retaliation had gone a bit too far, wasn’t the boy the victim here?
And a Ravenclaw, no less!
What was wrong with a Head of House showing a little favoritism?
“Is that so?” The corners of Snape’s mouth curled upward, his true intention finally revealing itself in his very next words.