"AAAAAAAAH!"
Draco Malfoy's panicked screams echoed through the Great Hall, sounding like ten ducks stepping on ten screeching chickens.
His perfectly round, pale, and dazzlingly shiny bald head seemed to soak up every bit of light in the room. Even the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall parted its swirling clouds to cast a single beam of sunlight directly onto Malfoy's dome.
What a brilliantly gleaming noggin!
Crabbe and Goyle, clearly missing a few brain cells, ignored Malfoy entirely and instead hopped around, frantically trying to catch the golden strands of hair flying through the air.
Pansy Parkinson, Malfoy's loyal follower, had collapsed to the floor and stayed there—whether she was faking an injury or actually hurt, no one could tell.
The rest of the Slytherins were equally fascinating in their response: not a single one stepped forward to help. Even Malfoy's Quidditch teammates, the older students who'd just received brand-new brooms courtesy of Lucius Malfoy's generous "donations," scurried out of the hall as if pretending they weren't even there.
It was clear Malfoy's popularity in Slytherin wasn't exactly stellar. His childish arrogance had rubbed plenty of people the wrong way.
The Hufflepuffs, who had the best view of the chaos, wore expressions of shock that could've lasted a year. Then, one by one, they started covering their mouths, stifling giggles until their faces turned red. They were still wary of Malfoy's status as a school governor's son.
The Ravenclaws, fewer in number but no less entertained, pointed at Malfoy's shiny bald head and whispered, chuckling quietly among themselves.
The Gryffindors, arriving fashionably late to the spectacle, had no such reservations. They burst into unrestrained laughter, slapping tables, stomping feet, and rolling on the floor with glee.
Harry and Ron were among those rolling on the ground, laughing so hard they could barely breathe. They swore they'd never been this happy in their lives. This moment would be etched in their memories forever, a story to tell their grandkids on their hundredth birthday for a good laugh.
Even Hermione, who usually disapproved of reckless antics, couldn't help but crack a smile at the sight of Malfoy's glistening bald head.
Honestly, it was so round.
Malfoy's already ghostly pale skin, now completely hairless, made his head look uncannily like a peeled boiled egg.
The Weasley twins, Fred and George, were cackling and smacking each other's backs, as if worried the other might forget to breathe from laughing so hard.
Once they'd had their fill of laughter, they decided it was time to gift Malfoy a new nickname.
Fred stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Malfoy's always calling Harry 'Scarhead.' Seems he's pretty fond of that kind of name."
George furrowed his brow slightly. "He looks like a boiled egg now, doesn't he? So how about…"
Fred & George, in unison: "Egghead!"
Leon Green's fiery anger, which had been bubbling like molten lava, cooled significantly at the sight of Malfoy's egg-like dome.
When he heard the twins' new nickname, the rest of his rage fizzled out entirely.
"Egghead" sounded like the name of some famous Muggle comic villain, didn't it?
It suited Malfoy perfectly.
Just then, the four house heads appeared on the scene.
A peculiar smile crept across Severus Snape's sallow face.
"I'm not the least bit surprised," he drawled. "I've said it before—Green will cause a massive mess. After all…"
Snape's dark eyes glinted coldly, as if he were staring through Leon's face at an old enemy.
"Leon Green, ignoring school rules, harming a fellow student—and in front of everyone, no less. The impact is deplorable. Let's see, how many points should I deduct?"
His oily voice stretched the words as he turned to Professor McGonagall.
"Green's one of yours, Professor McGonagall. What do you think?"
McGonagall's face was as stiff as a board, her lips pressed into a thin line. She glared sternly at Leon, about to speak.
But before she could, Leon jumped in with a defense. "It wasn't on purpose!"
He blinked innocently.
"I just saw some classmates about to be beaten to death by Malfoy and his goons!"
Leon emphasized "beaten to death," making it clear this was self-defense.
"I got so angry that my magic surged out of control. Everyone saw—I didn't even use my wand!"
He spread his empty hands for all to see, then poured every ounce of heartfelt, righteous indignation into his next words.
"All I wanted was to keep my friends from dying! What did I do wrong?"
"Malfoy only lost a few hairs! But Colin—he lost his dignity!"
Leon grabbed Colin Creevey and pulled him forward.
The poor kid looked utterly miserable. His face was bruised and swelling, his hair and robes drenched in sticky, sopping meat stew.
Leon whispered, barely audible, "Cry!"
Colin, still dazed and overwhelmed by all the attention, froze.
Ginny Weasley, quick on her feet, mussed up her own hair, smeared a huge glob of tomato sauce on her robes, and slipped next to Leon. She secretly pinched Colin's arm—hard.
Colin let out a loud "OW!"
Ginny's eyes rolled back dramatically, and she collapsed to the floor in a faint.
Leon, spotting a more cooperative partner, ditched Colin and rushed to Ginny's side.
"Ginny! Ginny! Don't die on me! If you're gone, how will poor Puffskein survive without you?!"
The Weasley twins, catching on instantly, joined the theatrics. They rushed to Ginny, each grabbing a hand, fake-sobbing and calling out, "Little sister! Oh, little sister!"
Colin finally got the memo—this was a group effort to play the victim. He squeezed his eyes shut and wailed, dry sobs echoing without a single tear.
Their acting was terrible, with no eyedrops to sell the performance. For real emotion, it was all on Leon, the seasoned actor.
He tilted his head toward the enchanted ceiling, twin streams of tears rolling down his cheeks, his voice clear and passionate.
"Godric Gryffindor, sir! Open your eyes and see! Your students are being bullied to death by those wicked Slytherins!
"Their students beat up whoever they want! Their professor deducts points from whoever he pleases!
"Hogwarts is about to be renamed Slytherinwarts!
"Us students from the other houses will be hunted down and wiped out by Slytherin!"
Professor Sprout, the most relaxed of the bunch, seemed to find Leon and his crew amusing, watching their little drama with a fond smile.
Professor Flitwick looked like he wanted to say something—or laugh—but held back, unsure whether to interrupt their stellar performance.
McGonagall's face was frozen, her brain seemingly on pause.
Snape's lips trembled with rage. "Enough! Silence!" he barked.
Colin's wails cut off abruptly, startled by Snape's voice, only for him to choke on his own spit and start coughing violently.
The Weasley twins, unfazed, kept up their act, though their shaking shoulders looked more like suppressed laughter than sobs.
Leon stopped his dramatic mourning, stood up, and fixed Snape with a complex look—equal parts sorrow and restraint.
"Professor Snape, I've always respected you, but…"
His expression shifted in an instant, like flipping a switch, to one of carefree defiance. Only Snape caught the change.
Under Snape's murderous glare, Leon puffed out his cheeks slightly and let out a soft, "Pfft."