Because of Leon's blunder, Peeves was about to lose seven months of freedom.
Once the blame was pinned, Leon bolted.
He was afraid if he stuck around, he might grow something useless like a conscience and start feeling sorry for Peeves.
If anyone was to blame, it was Grindelwald for gobbling up Leon's original conscience.
Leon slipped out of the Chamber of Secrets.
After a quick tidy-up, he headed to the Great Hall on the first floor for breakfast.
It was a bit early, but going back to the dorm would take too long.
Even in the best-case scenario, assuming he didn't get lost, the trek back to Gryffindor Tower would eat up a chunk of time.
So, he decided to head downstairs and wait for food.
When Leon reached the Great Hall, a few early risers were already there, diligent as ever.
The first wave of breakfast appeared shortly after.
Of course, the Gryffindor table was deserted—hardly surprising, given the collective hangover.
When Leon showed up, students from other houses gave him a curious glance but nothing more.
No one seemed to realize that the disheveled figure before them was last night's freshly minted Hogwarts celebrity.
The Leon of now was a far cry from the dazzling version of yesterday.
He'd gone out for a night of sneaking around in his crisp new Gryffindor robes, but after a night of crawling, tumbling, and repeatedly casting drying and cleaning charms, they looked like secondhand rags.
The robes were still wearable, just barely. The bigger issue was that Leon hadn't brought his textbooks.
He vaguely recalled yesterday's timetable.
First class this morning was Transfiguration with their stern Head of House, Professor McGonagall.
Thinking of her no-nonsense teaching style—and the string of reckless stunts he'd pulled last night that would surely infuriate any adult—Leon had a sinking feeling he was in for it.
Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed the array of breakfast dishes appearing on the table, all very Western.
Sigh. He couldn't help but crave some millet porridge, steamed buns, soy milk, or tofu pudding.
Nibbling on dry bread, Leon made a mental note to swing by the kitchens later and slip the house-elves a few recipes.
As he ate, he spotted Colin Creevey, his short dormmate, shuffling into the hall.
Colin was alone.
Their dorm interactions yesterday had been practically nonexistent, and Leon couldn't even picture the other three roommates or recall their names.
He probably hadn't bothered asking.
But Colin Creevey? Leon knew him.
Seeing the scrawny kid lugging an oversized backpack, Leon's eyes lit up—textbooks!
Not that he'd steal from Colin!
What kind of lowlife did you take him for?
Leon was no such scoundrel!
"Colin! Come sit with me!" Leon called out warmly.
Colin hesitated, then recognized his classmate and dormmate—the dazzling star of Hogwarts last night, Leon the heartthrob.
"Er, Leon?" Colin's tone was doubtful.
He couldn't believe it.
In just one night, the radiant figure from yesterday had turned into… this? A dusty, smog-filtered version of himself, wearing robes so worn they barely qualified as secondhand, with frayed sleeves to boot.
Had the rich kid who'd splashed out on drinks for the whole house last night gone bankrupt overnight?
Sweet, naive Colin didn't overthink it. He genuinely believed Leon had fallen from grace into some tragic, penniless state.
He plopped down next to Leon.
Trying to make conversation, Leon said, "Colin, you're from London, right? Your accent's spot-on."
"Yeah, my dad's a milkman. I've got a younger brother too. Before I got my Hogwarts letter, I had no idea magic was real. I thought all the weird stuff happening to me was just in my head, like hallucinations, and…"
Leon had never met such a forthcoming kid.
It was just casual small talk, but Colin spilled his entire life story like beans from a jar.
He talked fast and a lot.
Leon only needed to toss in an occasional "Mm," "Really?" "Never heard of that," "Me?" or "No way!" and Colin would carry the conversation solo.
From Colin's chatter, Leon pieced together some info about their other three dormmates.
Apparently, they were a tight-knit trio who already knew each other.
Colin felt like an outsider and had come to breakfast early to avoid them.
He assumed Leon had left the dorm even earlier for the same reason.
Leon found Colin amusing—imaginative, prone to overthinking, and fully convinced of his own "truths."
The kid had initiative, didn't dwell on things, but his social skills were a bit lacking.
Leon decided Colin could temporarily serve as his human GPS.
Patting Colin's small shoulder, Leon mentally declared him hired for Leon's Limited Liability, No-Responsibility Company!
Colin's first task? Hand over his backpack so Leon could copy A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.
By now, the Great Hall was filling up.
While Colin was distracted, gawking around, Leon sneaked a hand into his massive backpack.
One, two, three, four, five… so many books, so heavy, and Colin was lugging them all on his back.
Leon considered his options. His magic control was still shaky.
Copying just one book might backfire if he overdid it.
Why not duplicate them all?
Suppressing his magical output, Leon whispered, "*Geminio!*"
Bang! Crash… crash…
He'd underestimated his surging magic.
Back in the Chamber, he'd been drained after an all-night battle with a basilisk's soul.
Now, well-fed and rested, his magic was brimming.
The spell went haywire, and Colin's backpack exploded.
Books erupted like a fountain, piling higher and higher, burying poor Colin until only a desperate, flailing hand stuck out from the book avalanche, clawing for rescue.
The entire hall turned to stare.
Leon gave an awkward chuckle, quickly yanking Colin out of the book mountain.
The pile finally stopped growing but had already swamped the seats around them.
Leon discreetly used a Summoning Charm to gather the backpack's fragments and patch it back together—barely.
The poor bag's lifespan was now on life support, ready to give out any second.
Unable to tell originals from copies, Leon stuffed one of each book into the bag.
He also slipped a copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration into his ring for safekeeping.
The remaining book mountain? That was a job for Hogwarts' house-elves.
Just then, a flurry of wings announced the morning owl post.
Leon remembered Tom, his owl, who'd been off playing in the Owlery last night.
Would he show up for breakfast?
Sure enough, seconds later, a hundred or so owls swooped into the hall, dropping parcels and letters like rain.
Leon scanned the flock but didn't spot Tom's flashy, colorful feathers.
Had the bird gone feral, skipping breakfast entirely?
After classes, Leon would have to visit the Owlery and remind Tom how to be a proper owl.
"Oh no!" Ron's voice rang out nearby.
Leon turned to see Ron holding a soggy owl he'd fished out of his soup bowl.
The owl clutched a red envelope in its beak.
Leon frowned. The timeline had already shifted—how was there still a Howler?
Percy Weasley strode over, eyeing his panicked younger brother.
"Ron, you'd better open it quick," Percy said matter-of-factly. "If you don't, a Howler will explode on its own and scream even louder."
Ron stared at Percy in disbelief.
"Percy, you snitched to Mum? We agreed yesterday—I'd tell you, but you wouldn't tell her!"
Percy stood tall, radiating righteous indignation, as if betraying his brother was a noble sacrifice.
"I didn't write to Mum," he said. "I wrote to Dad."
read more inpatreon
ilham20