Noon, Great Hall.
"You didn't see it—Malfoy was just hovering there when Harry made this insane dive and knocked him flying!"
Ron waved a massive chicken leg around, gesturing wildly. He was embellishing Harry's "glorious" deeds with theatrical flair that would've made a bard proud.
Students crowded around the long table—mostly Gryffindors, naturally. They couldn't resist hearing stories about Slytherins getting their comeuppance.
As Ron spun his tale, the lions alternated between raucous laughter and cheers.
But Harry, the story's supposed hero, looked like he wanted to disappear into his robes. He'd known he was in deep trouble the moment he saw Malfoy fall and get injured. Definitely getting disciplined by the professors.
Yet from morning classes until now, nobody had come looking for him.
This waiting before the axe fell was torture.
Harry glanced up guiltily toward Leo across the table, caught him looking back, and immediately dropped his gaze again.
After listening to Ron's wild boasting, Leo roughly pieced together what'd happened. Basically identical to the original plot—conflict over the Remembrall, competing on broomsticks.
But how'd Malfoy actually fall? Was he really knocked flying by Harry?
Ron was claiming Malfoy broke both legs and both arms—basically shattered bones all over. Leo didn't buy such dramatic exaggeration, but the injuries definitely weren't light. Direct fall from that height would do serious damage.
Fortunately Professor McGonagall had arrived in time, stabilised Malfoy's condition, and rushed him to the hospital wing.
Also, why did Harry look so guilty? What's he done now?
"Potter. Come with me. The headmaster wants to see you."
An authoritative voice cut through the chatter like a blade, instantly silencing the young wizards' discussion.
Professor McGonagall, her square glasses catching the light, appeared beside their table and summoned Harry.
Leo figured this had to be serious if it required Dumbledore himself.
Harry followed Professor McGonagall through winding corridors, nervousness growing with each step. Entering the headmaster's office, he wasn't in any mood to admire the surroundings—except for one impossible-to-miss detail.
A massive glass cabinet dominated the room's centre, bright and conspicuous. Inside sat a single item: a patched, greyish-white hat.
"Hey there, boy named Harry Potter! Do you think I look good like this now?"
Harry actually heard the hat speak.
"Hey! Why aren't you talking? Didn't you just wear me at the opening ceremony? Already forgotten?"
Harry's eyes went wide. "You're the Sorting Hat? Weren't you greyish-brown before?!"
"That's right—I was originally grey-white; I just hadn't been cleaned in ages."
A cold voice suddenly interrupted Harry's conversation with the hat.
"Potter. Come discuss how you caused Draco Malfoy's injury."
Harry looked toward the voice and trembled. Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore sat at the imposing desk, the former examining him with glacial eyes.
"Now, now, don't be afraid." Dumbledore's tone was cheerful as he gestured for Harry to sit. "Just tell us what happened."
Harry swallowed hard and perched on the edge of his chair.
Clank.
Professor McGonagall placed a small iron jar on the desk with a crisp sound.
Seeing that jar, Harry's pupils contracted sharply. The sleep-inducing incense container. He'd gone back looking for it afterward but couldn't find it on the field.
"Harry, is this potion yours?"
Professor McGonagall's gaze was serious and unflinching. She'd found it beside Malfoy's unconscious form. Though she was Gryffindor's Head of House, she wouldn't cover for students—especially when someone might've misused potions to injure others.
Harry's face went ashen as he nodded mutely.
"Severus, please identify what potion this contains."
Snape lifted the iron jar slowly, almost reluctantly. He'd already caught the faint orchid fragrance wafting from it—familiar and deeply wrong.
After carefully examining the residue, Snape's expression darkened like a thundercloud. Sleep-inducing incense. The improved sleep-inducing incense!
The enhanced formula Leo had traded with him. Currently in the school, probably only Leo and he could brew this particular version.
How'd this get connected to Leo?
"Sleep-inducing incense. The drowsiness effect works on wizards... also effective on magical creatures."
Snape's introduction was brief, deliberately omitting details about the improved version.
"Potter, what was this potion used for?"
Harry didn't answer immediately. His hands trembled against his legs as thoughts raced through his mind.
The sleep-inducing incense was brewed by me. I lit it, threw it, caused Malfoy's injury...
Can't mention Leo. This matter can't involve him—it has nothing to do with him.
Harry remembered Leo's words, his teaching, his respect, his trust...
He suddenly straightened his neck and declared loudly: "I brewed this potion myself! And I used it on Malfoy myself!"
All three adults—Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape—were startled by Harry's sudden outburst.
Looking at those emerald green eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, somewhat blurred but still blazing with stubborn determination...
Then at that annoying face set like granite...
Snape's expression turned thunderous. "I'm asking what you used this potion for, not whether you brewed it yourself!"
Snape's question was meant for Harry to admit the potion was intended for magical creatures, not for deliberately pranking or harming classmates.
Harry calmed slightly. "After I came to Hogwarts, I haven't been sleeping well, so I... used it as a sleep aid."
The excuse was painfully far-fetched, but better than admitting to pranking classmates.
Besides, Harry genuinely hadn't intended serious harm at the time—he'd just thought of what seemed like the most effective method. His actions had been faster than his thoughts, not considering such severe consequences.
As a pure little lion, this was frustrating but understandable.
Snape shook his head. "Harry Potter misused potions, causing accidental injury to a classmate. Punishment: copy school rules ten times, volunteer work in the hospital wing one hour daily for one week, fifty points from Gryffindor."
"Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall—is this acceptable?"
Both were actually surprised by the decision. The punishment seemed harsh, but Snape had classified this as an "accident"—indirectly protecting Harry.
McGonagall couldn't understand why Snape would be so "lenient". After all, Lucius Malfoy as a school governor would definitely demand explanations from him as Slytherin's Head of House.
While Dumbledore, knowing some inside information, also felt Snape's handling was unusually merciful.
"I think that's appropriate," Dumbledore said seriously, "but there's one addition—Harry, you must apologise to your injured classmate. A sincere apology."
"I know the cause of your conflict, but you made mistakes too. That Malfoy student also paid a price."
"You're classmates, not enemies. You shouldn't harbour hatred toward each other."
Harry nodded emphatically. "I know I was wrong. I'm willing to accept punishment."
After talking a while longer, Harry left the headmaster's office.
The moment he walked out the door, he straightened his chest again.
Harry Potter wouldn't betray friends. Harry Potter didn't betray friends.