Let Him Go

The boat docked, and Malfoy was the first to leap nimbly onto the pier.

But instead of striding off on his own as usual, he stopped, turned back, and extended a hand toward Skofot, who was still seated in the boat, his tone carrying a hint of entitled arrogance:

"Take my hand. Careful, it's a bit slippery here."

Skofot hesitated for a moment, then reached out, placing his hand in Malfoy's, using the other's strength to step lightly onto the shore.

He still kept his head slightly lowered, appearing quiet (maintaining the protective instinct triggered by his shattered aura).

This slightly intimate interaction happened to be witnessed by Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were just stepping ashore from a nearby boat.

Ron's eyes went wide instantly.

He looked at the arrogant, platinum-haired boy who was unmistakably a Malfoy, then at Skofot, who was being "pulled along" by Malfoy, looking unusually submissive and frail.

His mind immediately conjured up a picture of "an evil pureblood coercing a poor, helpless classmate."

Recalling Skofot's pale, fragile appearance on the train and how he'd praised Ron's family as "brave," a surge of hot blood rushed to his head.

"Hey! You! Let him go!"

Ron shouted, darting forward in a few quick strides, his red hair fluttering like a flame in the night breeze.

He planted himself directly between Skofot and Malfoy, glaring at the latter. "What did you do to Leoqi? Are you holding him hostage?"

Malfoy was stunned for a second by the sudden accusation, then a flash of offended fury lit up his gray-blue eyes.

He let go of Skofot's hand, lifted his chin, and shot back in his characteristic drawl:

"Weasley? I thought I heard something yapping. Mind your own brood of paupers. What I'm doing is none of your business."

He deliberately claimed "Leoqi" as if marking his possession. "He wants to be with me."

"With you?" Ron's face reddened even more. He turned to Skofot, his voice urgent.

"Leoqi, don't be scared! Did he threaten you? Come with us!"

He gestured to himself and the just-arrived Harry and Hermione.

[Emotion Points +10] (from Ron's anger and protective instinct)

[Emotion Points: 425/100]

Skofot instinctively shrank back a step when Ron charged over. Now, with everyone's eyes on him, he looked even more at a loss.

His eyes reddened slightly (shattered aura), his gaze darting between furious Ron, arrogant Malfoy, and the worried Harry and Hermione nearby. His lips moved, but no sound came out, as if he were terrified by the scene.

Hermione furrowed her brow. Watching Skofot look like he was about to cry, and seeing Ron and Malfoy at a standoff, she couldn't help but speak up:

"Stop fighting! Look how scared he is!"

She stepped forward, intending to pull Skofot over to her side.

But Malfoy yanked Skofot further behind him, glaring defiantly at Ron and Hermione:

"Did you hear that? You're scaring him. Stay away from us, Weasley, and you,"

he glanced at Hermione with contempt, "Mudblood."

That word was like a match to gunpowder.

"You!" Ron whipped out his shabby wand.

"Quiet!" A booming voice rang out like thunder.

Hagrid, the gamekeeper, squeezed his massive frame between them, frowning at the group of first-years who'd nearly started a brawl on the first day.

"What's all this? Get in line! Anyone else causing trouble, I'll toss 'em back in the lake to feed the giant squid!"

Under Hagrid's intimidation, the conflict was temporarily suppressed.

Malfoy snorted coldly, ignoring Ron, but he still kept a tight grip on Skofot's wrist, practically dragging him as he hurried to catch up with the main group heading toward the castle.

Ron stood there, panting with rage, venting to Harry and Hermione:

"Did you see that? That Leoqi's definitely being coerced! That Malfoy!"

Harry watched Malfoy and Skofot's retreating figures, also a bit puzzled. He thought the boy named Leoqi really did look... like he needed help.

Hermione pursed her lips. She felt things might not be that simple, but Skofot's earlier demeanor—like a frightened little animal—made her lean toward trusting Ron's judgment.

And Skofot, being "dragged along" by Malfoy, in the shadows where no one could see, let the faintest hint of a smile curl at the corner of his mouth.

[Emotion Points +5] (from Hermione's worry and confusion)

[Emotion Points: 430/100]

Not bad. He let Malfoy hold his wrist, calculating inwardly.

Let them misunderstand. Sometimes, misunderstandings can generate even more... valuable emotional fluctuations.

He looked up at the brightly lit castle in the distance. The first-years were climbing the steps under Professor McGonagall's lead.

The Sorting Ceremony was about to begin.

Dragged along by Malfoy's firm grip on his wrist, almost half-pulled up the stone steps toward the castle, Skofot could clearly feel the varied gazes of the other first-years around him—curiosity, surprise, and perhaps even indignation like Ron's.

He lowered his head, his thick lashes concealing the rapid calculations flashing through his eyes.

Being "held hostage" like this could continuously draw attention and Emotion Points, but it was too passive and also restricted his freedom of movement.

He needed a controllable "accident."

He took a light breath, deliberately stumbled with his foot, and at the same time exerted a slight force with his wrist, trying to break free from Malfoy's grip.

The movement was subtle, but enough for Malfoy, immersed in his role as "protector" (or rather, possessor), to notice.

"Mr... Malfoy,"

Skofot lifted his face, his voice soft and plaintive, carrying obvious pleading and discomfort (Fragility Buff at full blast), "I... I can walk on my own. This... isn't very comfortable."

He tried to gently twist the captured wrist, the slender bones appearing especially fragile in Malfoy's palm.

Malfoy was enjoying the feeling of leading (or rather, controlling), especially seeing Weasley's furious expression, which put him in a good mood.

Skofot's sudden struggle and request displeased him greatly.

His gray-blue eyes narrowed. Instead of letting go, he tightened his fingers, causing Skofot to frown slightly.

"Don't move, Leoqi."

Malfoy's tone carried impatience and a hint of anger at being challenged, "Just follow me. Do you want to mix with that lot..." He cast a contemptuous glance at the trio of Harry and the others nervously watching from nearby, "...instead?"

His voice wasn't deliberately lowered, sounding somewhat harsh on the crowded but relatively quiet stone steps.

Just as Skofot was about to "weakly" struggle again, escalating the minor conflict slightly, an icy, stern voice rang out from ahead:

"Mr. Malfoy!"

Professor Minerva McGonagall had somehow already stood on a higher step.

She wore emerald-green robes, her expression as hard as the toughest rock in the Scottish Highlands.

Her sharp gaze swept first over Malfoy's hand tightly gripping Skofot's wrist, then fixed on Malfoy's face, full of arrogance and displeasure.

"Release Mr. Leoqi." Her voice was not loud, but carried an undeniable authority.