The second day of term.
Ian had suffered an epic blow on the level of Harry Potter.
"What did you say? I killed the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor? How come I didn't know?"
Ian's legs were not exactly short, but his overall height was limited for the time being, and he could not quite keep up with Penelope's long-legged stride.
"Don't worry too much. Anyone with normal intelligence can tell it wasn't you. I don't think the professors would be stupid enough to believe the nonsense of some big bad Slytherin brat."
"What a joke. It's utterly ridiculous. You'd have to have been kicked in the head by a troll to accuse a first-year Young Wizard of killing a powerful adult wizard."
"He might as well say Professor Erich was ambushed by magic Filch had been hiding for decades!" Penelope cracked a dark joke while standing up for Ian.
At least, if caretaker Filch had been here, he would have found it very dark indeed.
"Who accused me?"
Ian was not particularly nervous. The only minor conflict he had had yesterday was with Peeves. As long as Peeves had not tattled on him, it was not much of a problem.
He had not done it.
Could some Slytherin brat pin it on him?
His autobiography, Hogwarts: Me and My Headmaster Uncle, was still only in the planning stages, but that did not mean it did not exist. In any case, Snape could not possibly watch him get framed and sent to Azkaban.
"Marcus Flint. A fourth-year student, Slytherin's Quidditch Chaser. His family is one of those damned Sacred Twenty-Eight."
"It must be because of Daphne Greengrass. Tsk, tsk. He wants to use this to win House Greengrass's friendship. There really isn't a single good thing among those Pureblood