Most of the onlookers outside Flourish and Blotts wisely kept their mouths shut.
After all, the ones who'd been beaten were Malfoy father and son, representing the House of Malfoy—people you simply didn't cross.
As for the one who'd done the beating, she was only a Young Wizard, but judging by her skills, she wasn't someone they could afford to provoke either, so nobody dared gossip.
Of course, if most people kept silent, there was always that small minority who didn't.
And inside Flourish and Blotts, that minority happened to be Gilderoy Lockhart.
While everyone else clamped their mouths shut for fear of being dragged in, he sensed a golden opportunity—
a chance to push his own fame even higher.
Earlier, because Harry and Amanda hadn't entered the shop, Lockhart hadn't realized the boy was nearby.
But now he knew. Imagine if he could persuade Harry Potter—the Wizarding World's celebrated Boy-Who-Lived—to take a photo with him.
Then have The Daily Prophet run the headline "The Boy-Who-Lived's Idol: Gilderoy Lockhart." How high would his star rise?
People who knew Lockhart might be limited, but everyone knew the Boy-Who-Lived; he could ride on Harry's fame.
Better yet, if he could chat up that unusual girl and have the paper snap a few more shots—
"embellish" things just a little—he'd get an article: "Shock! Hogwarts Young Wizard Defeats Adult Wizard; Chaos Erupts, Lockhart Steps In."
Pair that with the Harry story, and he could scarcely imagine the boost to his reputation.
So carried away was he that, bruised face and all, he marched straight over to The Daily Prophet reporter on the scene and pitched both stories.
The reporter looked at him as if he were an idiot.
He was doing everything possible to avoid crossing that girl and the Malfoys, and here was Lockhart begging to leap into the fire?
Write the piece exactly as he described? That would be slapping both the girl and the Malfoys in print—
and he'd end up hated by both sides. Did Lockhart think him a fool?
Not every Daily Prophet journalist was Rita Skeeter, willing to do anything for a splash.
Still, the Harry Potter angle… maybe. The Boy-Who-Lived wasn't terrifying, after all.
With that thought, the reporter glanced toward Harry.
Amanda, who had just finished compensating the Potion-supplies shop, was still on high alert.
The instant the reporter's gaze settled on Harry, Amanda's eyes snapped to the journalist.
The man froze, cold sweat trickling down his forehead.
That icy, almost lifeless stare was terrifying.
He didn't doubt that the slightest wrong move would see him flung sky-high by a Levitation Charm.
A quick analysis told Amanda the man posed no threat and had no intention of harming Hermione or the others.
Spotting the camera around his neck, she identified him as a reporter; his glance at Harry must mean he wanted an interview.
Satisfied he wasn't dangerous, she calmly looked away.
She'd deduced his intent, but so what?
He hadn't spoken; perhaps he'd changed his mind.
Out of respect for his autonomy, she decided not to interfere and kept silent.
Only after her gaze left did the reporter fully relax, slumping as if drained, shirt soaked in sweat, gasping for breath.
To him, that look had been a clear warning: watch yourself—write whatever you like and you'll regret it.
That single glance cemented his resolve to report only the truth, never to exaggerate again.
Amanda's stare had, quite literally, won the Wizarding World a journalist committed to facts.
Lockhart, however, remained oblivious. Seeing the group collect their books and head for the exit, he panicked.
Miss this chance and Merlin knew when another would come!
Without thinking, he lunged to grab Harry—or even Amanda—forgetting entirely how she'd dealt with the Malfoys.
The Prophet reporter's eyelid twitched; he seized Lockhart's arm in a death-grip.
If that lunatic charged over and the girl thought he approved, he'd be finished—no way would he let this idiot drag him down.
Yes, Edgar—the reporter—was now certain Lockhart was a prize fool.
Thanks to Edgar's restraint, Amanda's group completed their purchases and left unhindered.
They stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron and piled into Mr. Weasley's and the Grangers' cars, heading straight for St Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
Fortunately, Mr. Weasley's magically expanded interiors were spacious.
Even with so many passengers, two cars sufficed.
Mrs. Granger, riding behind, was amazed. She turned to Hermione and Amanda squeezed together in the back seat. "Mr. Weasley's car really isn't overloaded?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, Mum. He's modified it with magic."
For a moment her expression twisted; she seemed to recall… the Ministry had rules against enchanting Muggle objects.
Seeing her daughter's face, Mrs. Granger blinked. "What is it?"
"Oh… I just remembered the Ministry forbids Wizards from illegally charming Muggle artifacts."
"And unless I'm mistaken, Ron once said Mr. Weasley works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office."
Wasn't this a case of the poacher game-keeping? Hermione thought, half amused, half horrified.
Mrs. Granger chuckled and ruffled her daughter's hair.
When it comes to these matters, you have to learn to be flexible. If it's harmless and won't cause any serious consequences, you can turn a blind eye—then everyone gets along.
Exactly," said Mr. Granger, who was driving. "Sometimes you have to be slick, especially if you plan to go into politics later."
Hermione nodded as though she only half-understood. Beside her, Amanda blinked mechanically at Mr. and Mrs. Granger's words.
Weren't rules supposed to be followed absolutely? Shouldn't breaking them bring punishment?
Why would anyone turn a blind eye? Amanda instinctively searched her mind for the answer.
She quickly sorted out her thoughts: turning a blind eye depended on the situation. When it came to disposal, if the child belonged to the elite, they could escape unscathed.
Still, Mr. Weasley's actions hadn't broken any law.
Amanda spoke in a flat tone. She knew every regulation of the Ministry of Magic by heart; she had studied them the moment she finished reading the Hogwarts school rules.
"Hmm?" Hermione tilted her head, puzzled. Mrs. Granger watched with interest, and Mr. Granger, though keeping his eyes on the road, couldn't help pricking up his ears.
According to the Ministry's Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects, if a Wizard casts magic on a Muggle object without the intent to use it, no offense is committed.
As long as Mr. Weasley's intent isn't to use the object, he's not breaking the law.
However, since the person who amended the regulation was Mr. Weasley himself, I interpret it as a deliberate loophole he left for his hobby.
Wow," Hermione said, raising her brows. Looks like Mr. Weasley really loves Muggle things.
He'd even carved out a legal loophole for his hobby.
She couldn't help shaking her head at the Ministry's current state.
Leaving loopholes in the law is dangerous—especially one this obvious.
Clearly, combining magic with Muggle items works better, yet instead of open cooperation and proper regulation, the Ministry simply bans everything outright.
She felt the Y Country Ministry of Magic had a screw loose.
Mr. and Mrs. Granger shook their heads as well; if Hermione had thought of it, so had they—after all, they'd raised her.
With the Ministry acting like this, it was a wonder people weren't protesting in the streets.
Outside St Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Amanda and Hermione each took one of the Grangers' hands so they could all enter together.
Inside, the scene felt almost familiar to Mr. and Mrs. Granger: witches and Wizards in white coats looked much like Muggle doctors and nurses.
The Weasleys deftly registered all seven children who'd been on the scene, then took them for examinations together with the Grangers.
Worried the children might have been hurt by Dark magic or curses, the tests focused on detecting any trace of spells or jinxes.
After a hectic half-day at St Mungos, the results showed none of the seven children, Amanda included, bore any sign of Dark magic or curses.
Reassured, the Weasleys and Grangers escorted the children back to the villa, where they would stay until term began.
Then they would head to King's Cross Station to board the hogwarts express.
What they didn't see was Malfoy father and son visiting the brain-injury ward at St Mungos.
Narcissa Malfoy was furious at what had happened to her husband and son.
She didn't approve of their habit of provoking others, but still, she felt her son was right: the Weasleys were blood-traitors, that Granger girl was a mudblood, and as for Amanda—Narcissa's brows drew tight. "Lucius, are you sure that girl did this to you and Draco?"
You're certain no adult Wizard helped her?"
No, Narcissa," Lucius said from the bed, shaking his head. "I made sure—only that strange girl cast the spell."
Hmph," Draco muttered, head still spinning. "She's weird, and every Professor likes her."
Then she must be exceptional," Narcissa said, stroking her son's hair lovingly. "Is she pure-blood in her homeland?"
No idea," Draco answered, disgust on his face. "But the way she shoveled food down—Merlin, it was like she'd never eaten. No manners at all. She can't be pure-blood."
Narcissa nodded, her earlier admiration gone, and turned to Lucius in the next bed.
What do you plan to do? Her husband and son couldn't be humbled for nothing.
Lucius fell silent; a bad feeling gnawed at him. That girl, Amanda—
Her eyes, her utter indifference, gave him a sense of dread deeper than the Dark Lord himself.
Given the power she'd shown, Lucius felt provoking her further would only bring regret.
But this concerned his son, and Narcissa was watching. He glanced at Draco, then at her.
Slowly he said, "Leave it to me. I won't let her off lightly."
He narrowed his eyes slightly; though his head still throbbed, it didn't stop him scheming.
Attacking the girl himself would be foolish, but if the Ministry could do it for him… that would be perfect.
With just a hint and the right incentive, Fudge would gladly make life difficult for a student—
Especially one with no family backing.
Back at the villa, Hermione had her arm around Amanda as they watched television, Amanda munching crisps bite by bite, utterly unaware of Lucius's plans kilometers away.
Not that she would care: nothing she'd done violated a single Ministry regulation.
In her view, under those circumstances no one had any grounds to trouble her.
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