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HRHL# Chapter 70: Potter Is Our King
🕑 Added 2025-01-15 14:03:07 +0000 UTCTo be honest, Filch wasn’t a likable person. Even Hagrid, known for his kind-hearted nature, would show clear disgust whenever Filch was mentioned.
And now, seeing Filch’s repulsive face charging at him, Harry couldn’t help but be reminded of Uncle Vernon.
But Uncle Vernon was different—at least he was technically family and had, begrudgingly, fed Harry. Filch, on the other hand? Besides being obnoxious, he had done absolutely nothing for him.
The comparison only fueled Harry’s anger further.
Accusing me of petrifying your cat?
If I were truly just a first-year student, maybe I would desperately try to prove my innocence.
But now?
Even if I did petrify your cat, what could you possibly do about it?
“Depulso!” Harry pointed his wand at Filch. A jet of light shot out from its tip, striking the charging caretaker.
Filch flew backward as if he had been hit by a speeding truck, landing with a resounding thud.
“Ahhh!” Filch screamed, his limbs flailing helplessly in mid-air.
“Harry!”
Dumbledore’s urgent voice rang out from the entrance hall.
At the same time, a soft cushion appeared behind Filch, breaking his fall and preventing any serious injuries.
But before Filch could say another word, Harry had already cast another spell.
“Petrificus Totalus!”
Filch’s body stiffened immediately, freezing in an awkward position on the cushion.
At that moment, students began spilling out of the Great Hall, just in time to witness the scene.
“Potter is our king!” The Weasley twins were the first to cheer, their voices carrying through the crowd.
Filch’s unpopularity was well-known. His office ceiling was adorned with polished iron chains and shackles, kept ready for the day he might be allowed to punish unruly students—a task he openly relished.
He would even use those chains to intimidate students, scaring many into submission and forcing them to do dirty or tedious tasks for him.
Now, Harry had publicly humiliated Filch outside the Great Hall, in front of the entire school, including Headmaster Dumbledore. How could the students not be thrilled?
The crowd erupted into cheers, especially the Gryffindors, who had suffered the most under Filch’s threats and detentions.
Even the Slytherins didn’t applaud, but their gazes betrayed a mix of admiration and approval.
What a badass.
“Potter!”
Professor McGonagall’s stern voice cut through the chaos. She marched up to Harry, her expression thunderous. “Mr. Potter! What on earth is going on? How dare you—how dare you attack the castle’s caretaker!”
“Professor McGonagall.”
Despite his anger, Harry maintained his composure, his tone polite. “I believe, Professor, that you should withhold judgment until you understand the full context of the situation.”
McGonagall’s lips twitched, and she let out a quiet sigh of exasperation.
This boy… he’s just like James!
Attacking the castle’s caretaker in front of the entire school, the staff, and the headmaster…
The impact of this incident was disastrous!
Even James wouldn’t have dared to go this far—at most, he would’ve cast a harmless prank spell on a fellow student.
If not for Albus’s timely intervention, Filch might have ended up in the hospital wing for months!
“A remarkable combination of spells! Impressive dueling skills!”
A sharp voice broke through the crowd.
Harry turned toward the speaker—it was Professor Flitwick, the head of Ravenclaw.
Standing on his tiptoes, Flitwick raised a hand so high it seemed like he wanted to touch the ceiling, giving Harry a big thumbs-up.
Professor Sprout discreetly pulled Flitwick back down, clearly thinking this was not the appropriate time for praise.
“Oh, Filius, perhaps now isn’t the best time to be complimenting Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said, pulling out her wand to undo the spell on Filch.
A flash of red light later, Filch regained his mobility and struggled to his feet.
Despite the fear still etched on his face, Filch’s anger over Mrs. Norris’s fate pushed him to point a trembling finger at Harry. “This Potter! This Potter killed my Mrs. Norris! He even hung her on the wall! I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him!”
“You see?” Harry said calmly, his voice steady. “He threatened to kill me first and even tried to act on it by charging at me. Surely, Professor, anyone would react under such circumstances?”
The boy stood tall, elegant, powerful, and poised. Though only eleven, he exuded a presence that demanded respect.
He should’ve been in Slytherin, thought Slytherin prefect Miss Farley, a pang of regret crossing her mind.
McGonagall’s stern expression softened slightly as she asked again, “Then what about the cat? Is Filch falsely accusing you?”
Harry was a bit surprised. Was the famously fair and impartial Professor McGonagall showing favoritism?
Her question practically implied she believed Harry might be innocent.
“He’s right here!” Filch roared, his sagging face turning a deep shade of purple. “He’s the only one who could’ve been at the scene of the crime! Why weren’t you in the Great Hall? What were you doing out here? Explain yourself!”
“So what if I did it? What can you do about it?” Harry crossed his arms, his gaze cold as he stared Filch down. “Not only did I petrify your cat, but I also petrified you in front of the entire school—”
Gasps rippled through the crowd. No one had expected Harry to be so brazen, openly admitting to his actions and even threatening Filch in front of the professors and the headmaster.
“Allow me to explain.”
A greasy, drawn-out voice interrupted the tension.
“I can vouch for Mr. Potter,” said Professor Snape, gliding toward the scene like a shadow. “He was in my Potions office brewing potions just moments ago. I believe this is a case of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time. We must not wrongfully accuse an innocent student.”
Harry turned, about to thank him, but Snape wasn’t finished.
“However,” Snape continued, his tone shifting, “we also cannot overlook any wrongdoing. Attacking the castle’s caretaker, especially so publicly, is unacceptable. As such, I believe Gryffindor should lose fifty points as a penalty.”
Harry raised his head just in time to catch the smirk tugging at Snape’s lips.
It was clear—no matter which Gryffindor broke the rules, Snape would always be there to gleefully deduct points.
