Let Go of Him

The boat reached the shore, and Malfoy was the first to leap neatly onto the dock.

But instead of walking off on his own as usual, he stopped and held out a hand to Skofot, who was still seated in the boat, his tone carrying a touch of matter-of-fact arrogance:

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

Skofot hesitated, but still reached out and placed his hand in Malfoy's, using his strength to step lightly onto the shore.

He kept his head slightly lowered, looking very quiet (maintaining the sense of fragility that inspired protectiveness).

This somewhat intimate interaction happened to be seen by Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who had just disembarked from a nearby boat.

Ron's eyes widened instantly.

He looked from the haughty boy with unmistakable platinum-blond Malfoy hair to Skofot, who was being "held" by Malfoy and looked unusually obedient and helpless.

An image of an "evil pure-blood forcing a poor, helpless classmate" immediately formed in his mind.

Thinking of how pale and fragile Skofot had looked on the train, and how he had praised Ron's family as "brave," a surge of hot blood rushed to Ron's head.

"Hey! You! Let go of him!"

Ron shouted and charged over in a few long strides, his red hair flickering like fire in the night wind.

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

Malfoy was briefly stunned by the sudden accusation, then offended fury rose in his gray-blue eyes.

He released Skofot's hand, lifted his chin, and shot back in his signature drawn-out tone:

"Weasley? I thought I heard some kind of creature yapping. Mind your own nest of paupers. What I do is none of your business."

He deliberately defended Leoqi as though Leoqi were his personal possession. "He wants to follow me."

"Follow you?" Ron's face turned even redder with anger. He turned to Skofot, his voice urgent.

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

He meant himself, Harry, and Hermione, who had just hurried over.

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

[Emotion Points: 425/100]

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

His eyes reddened slightly (fragility), his gaze shifting between the furious Ron, the arrogant Malfoy, and the worried Harry and Hermione. His lips moved, but no sound came out, as though the scene had frightened him speechless.

Hermione frowned tightly. Seeing Skofot looking as though he were about to cry, then looking at Ron and Malfoy facing off, she could not help speaking up:

"Stop arguing! You're scaring him!"

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

But Malfoy tugged Skofot farther behind him and looked provocatively 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."

The word was like a spark thrown into a powder keg.

"You!" Ron abruptly pulled out his battered wand.

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

Hagrid, the enormous gamekeeper, squeezed through the crowd. He frowned at the group of first-years who were nearly causing trouble on their very first day of school.

"What are you all doing? Get moving! If anyone causes trouble again, I'll toss them back into the lake to feed the giant squid!"

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

Malfoy gave a cold snort and stopped paying attention to Ron, but he still gripped Skofot's wrist tightly, practically dragging him as he hurried after the crowd heading toward the castle.

Ron stood there, breathing heavily with anger as he complained bitterly to Harry and Hermione:

"Did you see that? That Leoqi is definitely being forced! That Malfoy!"

Harry watched Malfoy and Skofot disappear into the distance, equally puzzled. He felt that the boy named Leoqi really did look like he... needed help.

Hermione pressed her lips together. She felt things might not be that simple, but Skofot's earlier appearance, like that of a startled little animal, made her lean toward Ron's judgment.

And in the shadows, Skofot, being "held hostage" by Malfoy as they walked, very slightly curled his lips upward where no one could see.

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

[Emotion Points: 430/100]

The effect was not bad. He let Malfoy hold his wrist as he calculated inwardly.

A misunderstanding was a misunderstanding. Sometimes, misunderstandings could create even more... valuable emotional fluctuations.

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

The Sorting Ceremony was about to begin.

With Malfoy gripping his wrist tightly, practically half-dragging him up the stone steps toward the castle, Skofot could clearly feel the varied looks cast his way by the surrounding first-years.

—Curiosity, surprise, and perhaps indignation like Ron's.

He kept his head lowered, his thick lashes concealing the calculation that flickered through his eyes.

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

He needed a controllable "accident."

He took a light breath and deliberately stumbled, while subtly twisting his wrist in an attempt to break free of Malfoy's grip.

The movement was slight, but enough for Malfoy, immersed in his role as a "protector"—or rather, an owner—to notice.

"Malfoy... sir,"

Skofot raised his face, his voice soft and quiet, carrying obvious pleading and discomfort (the Fragility Buff was in full effect).

"I... I can walk by myself. This... is uncomfortable."

He tried to gently twist the wrist Malfoy was holding. The slender bones looked especially fragile within Malfoy's palm.

Malfoy had been enjoying the feeling of leading—or rather, controlling—him. Seeing Weasley's furious expression had put him in a particularly good mood.

Skofot's sudden struggle and request displeased him greatly.

His gray-blue eyes narrowed. Rather than letting go, he tightened his fingers, making Skofot frown slightly.

"Don't move around, Leoqi."

Malfoy's tone carried impatience and a trace of anger at being challenged.

"Just follow me. Or do you want to mingle with that lot..." He cast a disdainful glance at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were watching tensely from nearby. "...instead?"

He did not deliberately lower his voice, and on the crowded but relatively quiet steps, it sounded somewhat harsh.

Just as Skofot was preparing to struggle "weakly" once more and escalate the small conflict slightly, a cold, stern voice sounded from ahead:

"Mr. Malfoy!"

Minerva McGonagall had somehow already reached several steps above them.

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

Her gaze was sharp as fire. It first swept over Malfoy's hand gripping Skofot's wrist, then settled on Malfoy's face, written all over with arrogance and displeasure.

"Let go of Mr. Leoqi." Her voice was not loud, but it carried unquestionable authority.