Lesson

Although they both knew there were two of them, although they both knew the entire Gryffindor team was nearby, when Amosta's chilling gaze fixed on them, Prian and Philoya still shuddered in unison. It was as if an adult Hungarian Horntail had opened its savage jaws at them, ready to tear them apart!

"Prian~"

Philoya clutched her boyfriend's wrist tightly, her voice trembling.

"Are you sure he's just some strange bookworm from Slytherin, Prian? Why... why do I find his eyes so terrifying? They're a little like that crazed Hippogriff Professor Kettleburn showed us last week."

"Don't talk nonsense, Philoya. We're Gryffindors—wizards from the House of Courage!"

Prian wholeheartedly agreed with Philoya. In the instant his eyes met Breen's just now, if Philoya had not been hiding in his arms, he might already have turned and run.

But his pride as a man forced him to put on a tough front.

"Hey, you bad boy, Breen! Don't look at us like that. You brought this on yourself. Who told you to sneak into the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night and use Dark Magic to curse someone? Y-you, what are you doing?!"

Whoosh!

Magic power surged wildly. Flames scattered across the dirt, tree trunks, and rocks gathered at the tip of Amosta's waving wand, forming a solid-looking golden fireball. It was like a sun abruptly rising over the sea beneath the curtain of night, blazing with endless light and heat.

The terrifying heat instantly evaporated every trace of moisture from the cold, damp air before spreading outward. A pine tree near Amosta was roasted until it burst into flame, while the two young wizards dozens of feet away were drenched in sweat in an instant, as though they stood on the rim of an about-to-erupt volcano!

"D-don't do this, Amosta. We didn't mean to..."

Fear brought two streams of tears to Philoya's pretty face. She had no idea what she was saying, only instinctively begging for mercy.

Prian raised his wand as well, but he knew perfectly well that his Protego—whose success was uncertain even at the best of times—could never block the violent golden sun at Amosta's wand tip.

"Get on your broom and run!"

The instant the grim-faced Amosta brought down his wand, Prian finally recovered a shred of courage. With all his strength, he hurled Philoya and her Nimbus 1700 backward, letting out a heart-rending roar.

"Go find Professor McGonagall! Don't look back!"

Prian would perhaps never know that the flash of humanity he displayed in that moment between life and death had saved him.

Amosta, who had witnessed the scene, saw the hostility in his eyes waver for an instant. The next second, his steady wrist suddenly dipped slightly, and the fireball that should have landed at Prian's feet instead crashed into the ground ten feet away!

Boom!

Like the brilliant flare of a supernova at the end of its life, the fireball, brimming with terrifying magic power, turned the cracked earth into lava with its own heat the instant it struck the ground.

The blazing air forced away in an instant exploded with a thunderous roar, like a pressure cooker bursting open. Prian's Protego did not even last a second before shattering. Before he could utter a scream, the ferocious blast hurled him away. With a crack, he slammed through a tree as thick as a wrist, then rolled across the ground more than a dozen times before barely stopping. His back was already a mangled mass of blood and flesh!

Philoya suffered far less. Prian had shielded her from much of the impact, but even so, the surging blast flung her more than a dozen feet away.

Standing behind a milky-white magical barrier, Amosta, completely unharmed, watched darkly as the dazed Philoya cried and scrambled onto her flying broom. She did not even have time to put out the flames on her robes before flying toward the castle without looking back. In the end, he did not strike again.

The surroundings were a complete mess. Without magic power to sustain it, the magically altered fire still stubbornly devoured the ruined landscape.

Crunch, crunch~

Amosta crossed the scorched earth and walked step by step to Prian's side. He lowered his head and looked down at the horrifying wounds on Prian's back without the slightest change in expression.

Prian was not dead. Of course not—Amosta had no desire to further his education in Azkaban, at least not yet.

"Just now, I was planning to let you experience the pain of losing a limb," Amosta said expressionlessly. "It would have taught you to use your brain. But your last act of courage earned you a little dignity."

Amosta took out a bottle of Sopophorous Bean and several other colorful potions with unclear effects from the cloth bag in his robes. After mixing them in the proper proportions, he poured them over Prian's back. With the aid of wandwork, granulation tissue wriggled in the torn wounds, and fresh flesh quickly grew back.

Some color returned to Prian's face, which had been pale as gold paper, but several of his ribs were still bent at unnatural angles. Amosta did not tend to his broken bones. For Madam Pomfrey, such minor injuries would be easy to deal with.

"I should learn my lesson too. I actually thought school would be safe—"

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

Several shrill sounds of something cutting through the air suddenly came from deep within the Forbidden Forest. As they drew near, they swiftly split apart, surrounding him from every direction. Five dark figures gradually emerged from the rolling mist.

Amosta did not look surprised. The moment he had seen the Gryffindor uniforms worn by Prian and Philoya, he had guessed they could not have been acting alone.

However, when a short, stocky figure emerged from the blur, Amosta's mouth still twitched uncontrollably.

Charlie Weasley—Bill Weasley's younger brother, the second child of the Weasley family, Gryffindor's brilliant Seeker—had an Acromantula the size of a car dangling beneath his flying broom. It had clearly been hit by at least three Petrification Curses at once!

Amosta had never known there were Acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest. These little Gryffindor lions really knew how to play!

As a sharp-eyed Seeker, Charlie spotted Prian lying at Breen's feet at first glance. Charlie possessed a calmness far beyond his age, and he did not immediately demand answers. Sitting high on his broom, he carefully surveyed the intimidating devastation around them. When he saw the smoking molten pit nearly three feet deep in front of Amosta, he sucked in a breath.

"Where is Philoya, Breen?" Charlie's voice was as weathered as his appearance.

"Maybe she's already mixed in with the dirt."

Amosta spoke calmly. "You can look for her yourselves. Maybe you can still dig up a few fingernails or something."

"You killed Philoya?!"

One of the Gryffindor players roared in disbelief. "And Prian—where are his clothes? What did you do to him?!"

Accusations surged in like a tide. They all raised their wands at Amosta, and someone shouted that Amosta should be sent to Azkaban.

Charlie Weasley truly possessed leadership qualities that ordinary people lacked. He was the youngest among them, yet also the calmest. He did not believe Amosta could truly have killed Philoya, unless he genuinely wanted to go to wizard prison. But Prian's severe injuries were beyond dispute. Their first priority now was ensuring Prian's safety.

Charlie pulled out his wand and cut the rope suspending the Acromantula. He guided his broom as it hovered erratically in the air, then said in a low voice.

"Hand Prian over to us, Breen. Otherwise, I'm afraid you'll have to suffer a little."