A Bloody Incident Caused by a Misunderstanding
When Vincent found them, he saw Hermione with her back to him, seemingly kicking an older male student in the groin.
Several patches of grass nearby were noticeably shorter, and two school uniforms lying some distance away were tattered and wrinkled...
Beast!
His face was terribly gloomy.
If I hadn't invited them, if I had noticed something was wrong sooner...
This is his responsibility, a responsibility that cannot be absolved by any excuse.
Sensing something, Hermione stopped and looked behind her at the same time as Daphne.
If it weren't for his grey-gold hair and deep blue eyes, they would have thought it was Snape.
As he walked, he opened his briefcase and took out two dark coats.
"Vincent, actually he—"
"I know he will pay the price."
Hermione and Daphne exchanged a glance and each tightened the coats draped over their shoulders.
Vincent crouched down to put the suitcase down, then grabbed Byron's hair with one hand.
With his other hand, he held a wand and punched the large face covered in footprints.
"Ah--"
Byron opened his eyes, and before he could even feel the pain all over his body, he was frightened by Vincent's gloomy face in front of him.
"Wayne— Wayne— "
Tell me, who sent you?
"I—I—"
Vincent put away his wand, then grabbed his arm and twisted it halfway around.
With a crisp "crack," the arm was dislocated.
"Ah—" Byron's swollen face was contorted in pain.
"Is that all? Think about how you treat them."
He twisted his arm up half a circle again in the same direction as before, and let out a bloodcurdling scream like a pig being slaughtered.
Despite the particularly brutal scene, the two little girls felt a warm feeling in their hearts.
"I'm extremely impatient right now," Vincent in a low voice, lifting his other, uninjured arm. "Tell me what you want to know."
Byron winced in pain, "It's Parkinson's!"
Daphne's face turned pale as she felt a chill run down her spine.
Although I knew it all along, I still can't accept this reality.
"Click!"
"Ouch—" The swelling on his face writhed like worms. "I already told you!"
"Did I say I would let you go?" Vincent slowed his twisting. "Tell me, who gave you that permission?"
Byron's dislocated arm was hurting more and more, and the cold sweat that broke out had soaked the shirt under his school uniform.
"Malfoy! Zabini! Flint!"
Merlin testifies, I'm telling the truth!
Vincent, expressionless, increased his strength, bringing his pain to its peak in an instant.
"Aww—"
"Next comes a personal grudge."
Byron's head slammed onto the lawn, and he struggled to open his eyes, which were filled with despair.
His legs were grabbed and he was turned over.
"Don't worry, I won't kill you."
Vincent stepped on his back, "Everyone has to pay for their mistakes."
You can't escape, and neither can I.
Not to mention Daphne, even Hermione didn't expect things to turn out this way.
If they cripple his legs, it wouldn't be ordinary revenge.
Serious acts of violence on campus, no matter how powerful one's background, can become a weapon to be used against them.
They were willing to put him in shackles to teach Byron an unforgettable lesson; anyone would be deeply moved in their shoes.
It's very useful, but there's no need for it.
Hermione and Daphne quickly stepped forward and each grabbed Vincent's left and right arms as he was about to exert force.
"That's enough, Wayne."
"Let him go."
Vincent lowered his head, not daring to look at them. "I know what I'm doing. At worst, I'll just lose my status as a youth representative of Wizengamot."
After calm analysis, it was not an impulsive decision.
"I don't care about that, I really don't."
They both clung tightly to his arms.
"Letting such a scoundrel of a wizard go unpunished will only lead to more victims."
They all knew this was an attempt to make amends.
Excellent people never allow themselves to make mistakes.
"Are you misunderstanding something?" Hermione stood on tiptoe, trying to see the expression on his face.
Byron, as if seeing a lifeline, explained in a terrified voice, "I swear! I only used a little curse, I didn't even touch it—"
"Shut up!" Vincent's initial elation quickly turned grim again. "Do you think I did something wrong?"
Byron kept shaking his head.
Vincent released his hands, trying to maintain his facial expression.
From an adult's perspective, it is indeed easy to fall into this misunderstanding.
Hermione and Daphne also let go of each other's hands, cupping the slightly flushed little faces in their hands.
"Is it okay if you roll yourself to the Hospital Wing?"
Byron nodded pitifully.
Are you mute? Answer me.
"No problem, I'll definitely go!"
He just told me to shut up; he didn't do anything wrong.
"Get out now."
"Yes!"
The entrance to the Forbidden Forest is quite far from the castle; the key question is how to roll up to the second floor.
Vincent almost lost his temper when he saw Byron actually rolling around on the lawn.
He picked up his suitcase and, without any embarrassment, drew his wand.
"Healing Charm— "
The cuts on Hermione and Daphne's faces gradually disappeared, as did their bandaged arms.
He walked over to the other two students who had fainted.
"Stop pretending, I know you're already awake."
Their closed eyelids began to twitch wildly.
Tell me what you did.
"We didn't do anything!" The two sat up, arguing vehemently.
"I fainted halfway through my incantation."
"I didn't even shout."
Vincent turned around, and after receiving their confirmation, waved his hand impatiently.
"Get back here, understand?"
"Clear!"
The three attackers came in well-hidden, but left conspicuously.
Daphne came up to him. "Thank you, Wayne."
"This is my responsibility." Vincent frowned and looked at a tall figure behind the giant tree on his left. "I should have known earlier that the Black Swan gang would have bad intentions."
Hermione came over carrying two school robes. "Let's go back to class first, or we'll be late."
"History of Magic?"
"Um."
It should take less than half an hour; I should be able to make it.
The three walked side by side toward the castle.
There was an indescribable awkwardness in the atmosphere.
They were both very bothered by the misunderstanding.
Especially Vincent.
"Greengrass, what's your next class?"
"Herbology, at 3 pm."
Hermione instinctively stopped in her tracks. "Don't go over there. You haven't attended a single History of Magic class this semester."
She seemed worried that something even more serious might happen.
"I'm very calm now, don't worry."
"Then I'll go too."
Daphne knew Vincent was going to the Black Swan Club's Club Room.
The four people Byron just mentioned all deserve to be taught a lesson.
Private matters should be resolved privately.
Leaving aside the unspoken "rules" on campus, these self-proclaimed "orthodox" Pure-blood individuals would never tell the professors.
A glamorous appearance is important, but so is maintaining a family's honor for hundreds of years.