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HRA# 35. Snape’s Righteous Strike Against Malfoy
🕑 Added 2025-02-04 13:36:33 +0000 UTC“Shut up, Malfoy!” Parvati snapped, her voice sharp with anger. It was clear that Malfoy’s arrogance had finally worn everyone’s patience thin.
She was a new Gryffindor student as well.
“Hah! Sticking up for Longbottom?” Pansy Parkinson laughed mockingly. “I didn’t think you’d actually like that chubby—look out! Draco!!”
But it was already too late. By the time Draco registered Pansy’s warning, he felt as though he had been hit by a runaway carriage. His entire body was flung backward, and a sharp pain shot through him from the impact.
“Ahh!!”
His face turned pale in an instant, and Malfoy let out a panicked scream. The sudden collision had caught him so off guard that he hadn’t even managed to tighten his grip on his broomstick. He tumbled sideways—plummeting several meters above the ground!
He wouldn’t die, of course, but if he actually fell like this, wouldn’t he end up as humiliated as that idiot Longbottom?!
Instinctively, he reached out, trying to grab onto something—anything—but his hands grasped nothing but air. His body continued to fall, down—until, suddenly, something yanked him back by the waist!
Yet, instead of relief, all Malfoy felt was agony. The force was so strong it nearly squeezed the lunch out of his stomach.
There was no doubt about it—the one who had knocked Malfoy off his broom was none other than Harry. Clad in chainmail, he might as well have been a solid block of metal, something Malfoy stood no chance of resisting.
But for Harry, simply knocking Malfoy off his broom wasn’t nearly enough to vent his anger.
Gripping Malfoy tightly against his side, Harry yanked up on his broomstick, signaling an upward surge. In the next moment, his broom shot skyward.
To be fair, the school-provided brooms weren’t supposed to be capable of such acceleration—but fortunately, Harry knew magic. A pale blue wind wrapped around him, boosting the broom’s speed to an unprecedented level.
Then came the dive.
If Malfoy still had the strength to scream during the ascent, then during the plummet, he lost even that. All he could do was cling to whatever was within reach, terrified of being thrown off entirely.
He wanted to close his eyes. But, to his horror, Malfoy realized he couldn’t. Something was forcing them open—Potter! Potter had bewitched him!
The screams and gasps from below had already merged into a single cacophony, but no matter how loud the collective outcry, it couldn’t compare to Malfoy’s own terrified shrieks. With Malfoy in tow, Harry plummeted toward the ground, so close that Malfoy was certain his skull was about to be shattered against the earth—until, at the last second, Harry pulled up, skimming just above the grass in a breathtaking glide.
After subjecting Malfoy to the most terrifying ride imaginable, Harry finally came to a halt. By then, Malfoy couldn’t even scream anymore—he could barely hold onto Harry’s leg.
Harry let go—then had to give Malfoy a hard punch in the back just to get him to release his grip. The moment Malfoy hit the ground, he didn’t even have the strength to curse. He simply collapsed and vomited.
“Harry Potter!”
A furious voice rang out, and Harry didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was—Professor McGonagall.
“How dare you?! How dare you treat a fellow student like this?!” she thundered, storming across the grounds from the castle entrance.
“You could have broken your necks!!”
But Harry paid no heed to McGonagall’s anger. He merely cast a cold glance at Malfoy, who was still retching on the ground, and said, “Don’t let me catch you bullying my friends again, Malfoy.”
“You should be grateful you’re still a kid—and that this is a school. Otherwise…”
Truth be told, Malfoy, in Harry’s eyes, was nothing more than an untrained brat. Taking him too seriously would only be an embarrassment to Harry himself. But that didn’t mean Harry would tolerate him tormenting his friends. Nor would he dismiss it as mere “childish squabbles.”
Because, as Dumbledore had once said—no matter what, to most of the world, Harry himself was still just a child.
So, it was best to make the lesson count.
“HARRY POTTER!!!”
McGonagall’s fury only intensified as she overheard Harry’s parting words. “What do you think you’re doing?! That was a threat! That was intimidation!!”
“Perhaps you should hear what actually happened first, Professor,” Harry said calmly, his earlier anger nowhere in sight. “Malfoy did something unforgivable. I had to make sure he understood the consequences.”
By now, the other students had gathered around.
“That’s right, Professor McGonagall!” Parvati chimed in. “Malfoy rammed into Hermione’s broom! She nearly fell! And he insulted Neville, too!”
“Yeah, yeah!”
The Gryffindors all began shouting over one another, condemning Malfoy’s behavior. As for the Slytherins… well, given that Malfoy was still on his knees vomiting, and given the way Harry’s gaze swept over them, none of them dared utter a word.
“Enough! Quiet, all of you!” McGonagall’s glare was as sharp as a blade. Silencing the crowd, she turned back to Harry and Malfoy. “Come with me, Mr. Potter. You too, Mr. Malfoy—are you able to walk? Mr. Potter, help him up and follow me.”
“Can I refuse, Professor?” Harry asked without hesitation. “I have no interest in helping my enemy. Besides, he wet himself. It smells awful.”
The Gryffindors burst into even louder laughter.
“He is not your enemy, Mr. Potter!” McGonagall snapped. “He is your classmate!”
“The moment he started tormenting my friends, we became enemies,” Harry replied evenly. “And I warned him—I have no interest in playing childish games. But he didn’t listen.”
“So you decided to teach him a lesson?” McGonagall’s headache was worsening. “You are a student, Mr. Potter. You do not have the authority to punish your peers.”
“If a professor had been around to stop Malfoy when he rammed into Hermione or mocked Neville, none of this would have happened.”
Harry’s meaning was clear—there had been no professor present when it mattered.
“I’m sorry, Professor, it’s all because of me…” Hermione’s eyes were red, on the verge of tears.
It wasn’t a coincidence—McGonagall had the distinct feeling she’d heard something similar not too long ago.
"Enough! Be quiet, Mr. Potter. And you too, Miss Granger—it’s not your fault."
Taking a deep breath, Professor McGonagall turned around. "Mr. Crabbe? You’ll help support Mr. Malfoy. The rest of you—come with me."
With a glance, Harry signaled to his Gryffindor friends not to worry. Even in the face of an angry Professor McGonagall, he felt no panic, his steps steady and composed.
Professor McGonagall led the three students straight into the castle, heading directly to the dungeons. At the far end of a corridor, she knocked on a door. Before long, it creaked open just a sliver, revealing Snape standing there, cloaked in black.
"Professor Snape?" McGonagall stepped aside, exposing the three students behind her. "If you have a moment, I believe there are some matters that require your involvement—seeing as you are the Head of Slytherin House."
"………Of course, I have time." Snape pulled the door open fully, his gaze locking onto the students. "What happened?"
"You wouldn’t believe it." McGonagall’s fury had yet to subside, and she spoke quickly, voice low. "…From a window in the castle, I saw Mr. Potter riding his broomstick—carrying Mr. Malfoy—soaring high before diving straight down. At one point, they were skimming mere inches above the ground—Malfoy’s face was no more than ten centimeters from the earth!"
"…Regardless of the circumstances, Mr. Potter’s retaliation was excessive. They both could have broken their necks!" McGonagall’s anger flared. "According to the students, this all started because Mr. Malfoy rammed Miss Granger with his broom and mocked Mr. Longbottom. Mr. Potter intervened on behalf of his frie—"
"I’M GOING TO HAVE MY FATHER EXPEL YOU!!"
The sudden outburst cut McGonagall off. Whether it was because he had finally caught his breath after the near-death experience or because he was emboldened by the sight of his Head of House, Malfoy’s face was no longer pale but flushed red with rage.
"You lunatic, Potter! You nearly killed me! This time, I swear, my father will have you expelled! Just wait and—"
Malfoy’s rant came to an abrupt halt as Snape gave a slight flick of his wand. Malfoy’s lips sealed together instantly, leaving him able only to make muffled noises.
"Do as you please," Harry said indifferently. "I’d actually love to see how a Death Eater and a Death Eater’s son plan to expel me. The Daily Prophet would have a field day with that story."
"Mr. Potter!!" Professor McGonagall was livid. "There are no Death Eaters! And no Death Eater’s son! And just how do you know about this?!"
The answer, of course, was Hagrid—Hagrid, Harry’s first friend in the wizarding world.
Someone truly worthy of trust.
"I see," Snape drawled, his voice slow and deliberate. Under Malfoy’s expectant gaze, he continued, "So according to you, Professor McGonagall, this entire incident happened because Draco was both foolish and incompetent in his provocations—resulting in Harry nearly falling off his broomstick and breaking his neck?"
McGonagall: "…"
Was that what she had meant?
Thinking back over her words, McGonagall was fairly certain she had been impartial. Malfoy had indeed provoked first, but Potter’s retaliation had clearly gone too far and warranted punishment.
—So why did it sound so different coming from Snape’s mouth?
"That’s right, Professor," Harry said after a moment’s thought, his tone sincere. "I even warned him in advance not to bother me."
"Excellent." Snape’s expression remained far from pleased—if anything, the dungeon seemed to grow colder. His voice was icy. "Slytherin loses fifty points."
"For your sheer stupidity and reckless arrogance!" Snape’s black eyes bored into Malfoy’s, his presence like a looming, predatory bat. "I will be writing to your father, Draco. If you cannot learn in school what is and isn’t acceptable behavior, then perhaps he ought to take you home."
Tears welled in Malfoy’s eyes. He let out a series of desperate, muffled noises, undoubtedly trying to protest—but with his mouth sealed, no words escaped.
"…I don’t think this warrants such severe punishment," McGonagall said stiffly. "But—fine… Gryffindor loses fifty points."
It was clear McGonagall was reluctant. Initially, she had only intended to deduct a handful of points from each student and issue detention.
But now that Snape had deducted fifty from his own House, how could she back down?
Her worst fear had already come true. Gritting her teeth, she marked the deduction, then shot Harry a sharp glare.
Harry, for his part, felt rather innocent in all of this.
"Thank you for bringing them, Professor McGonagall," Snape said, ignoring Malfoy entirely. "You may leave them here—I will see to their discipline personally."
"………As Head of Gryffindor, I believe it would be best if I handled Mr. Potter’s punishment myself," McGonagall said, her face rigid.
Truthfully, she strongly suspected that if she left Harry here, he wouldn’t be punished at all—he might even be treated to a nice, warm potion.
"A shame," Snape said, looking less than pleased but making no further argument. Instead, his attention shifted to Harry. His voice softened, turning almost contemplative. "Your mother had a remarkable talent for Potions. Perhaps you inherited that gift… Tomorrow is your first Potions lesson, after all."
"Of course. I won’t disappoint you," Harry replied knowingly. He understood Snape’s unspoken message.
Alchemy and herbalism went hand in hand, and while blacksmithing was more of a hobby, Harry’s true expertise lay in potion-making—at least, by Azeroth’s standards, where alchemy encompassed the crafting of various potions.
"Very well." Snape gave a slight nod of approval before turning his gaze back to Malfoy. "As for you, Draco, step inside. I believe I have the perfect task for your punishment—how does collecting Flobberworm mucus sound?"
Malfoy looked utterly devastated as he was dragged into Snape’s office. The door shut behind him.
Crabbe, the pudgy little coward, took off running.
That left only Harry and Professor McGonagall standing in the corridor.
