A Vicious Curse from Hell

"Trevor!"

Neville was overjoyed, clutching his toad tightly, tears nearly spilling from his eyes.

Harry looked at Charlie with envy, his gaze full of admiration.

Charlie perfectly matched his image of a wizard—humorous, powerful, and friendly.

Ron was stunned; as a child from a wizarding family, he understood that pulling off a move like that as a first-year was incredibly impressive.

"My God, Charlie, you can actually cast Accio?"

Hermione's eyes went wide.

"What spell is that? I've never seen it in any book."

"Accio." Charlie twirled his wand casually.

"It's a spell older students learn; it's not in our textbooks yet."

Hermione fell into thought. To know such a powerful spell, he must be a pure-blood wizard.

Had pure-blood wizards her age already studied to this level?

Ron: ??

It seemed her prep from first-year textbooks wasn't nearly enough—she'd have to work even harder to catch up to them.

She felt anxious, fine beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead.

She didn't want to fall far behind everyone else right at the start of school.

Charlie had no idea how much psychological damage his actions had just inflicted on the little witch.

[Congratulations, Your Majesty, for completing Tyrant Behavior: Flaunting Skill. Gained 1 Tyrant Point!]

With the toad found, Hermione and Neville left.

Only, one had arrived dejected and the other cheerful; now the cheerful and the dejected had swapped places.

Neville walked off with Trevor in his arms, beaming.

Hermione, however, wore a worried frown, muttering under her breath, "I need to speed up, can't fall behind," and "Pure-blood wizards are too amazing."

The compartment fell quiet again.

Ron looked at Charlie, his eyes full of envy.

"Charlie, you're incredible! I've seen my brother use Accio, and they only learned it in their third or fourth year."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, you must be a genius."

Charlie gave a cocky smirk. "Genius is just the entry requirement for meeting me."

Harry and Ron: ...

Seriously, how could this guy say something so shameless?

[Your Majesty flaunts your talent, gained Tyrant Points +1.]

[Also, Your Majesty's act is too clumsy.]

Shut up!

Soon, Hogwarts was near.

A voice came over the loudspeaker: "We will arrive at Hogwarts in ten minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be sent to the school."

The three of them quickly changed into their uniforms.

Black wizard robes slipped on.

Harry and Ron excitedly adjusted their clothes.

Just then, there was another knock at the door.

"Knock, knock, knock."

Charlie was fastening his cloak clasp and said without looking up, "Come in."

The door slid open, and three boys entered.

The one in front had a pale face, platinum-blond hair slicked with oil and combed immaculately, his expression haughty as he scanned the compartment.

The other two boys followed behind him, fat and ugly, looking like a pair of lackeys.

The platinum-haired boy's gaze swept around the compartment before locking onto Harry.

"I heard Harry Potter is in this compartment," he said, his voice carrying the particular drawl of high society.

"My name is Draco Malfoy."

He pointed to the two behind him. "This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle."

Harry nodded and replied politely, "Hello."

Malfoy's gaze slid past Harry, landing on Ron and Charlie.

A sneer immediately curled at the corner of his mouth.

"Red hair, shabby second-hand robes." Malfoy let out a cold laugh.

"No need for introductions, I know who you are. A Weasley, right? My father says all Weasleys have red hair and breed a whole litter of kids they can't even afford to raise."

Ron's face flushed crimson, his ears practically steaming.

Malfoy turned to Charlie, looking him up and down.

Charlie wore brand-new school robes, but the shirt collar peeking out was unmistakably Muggle-style.

"As for you," Malfoy wrinkled his nose, as if catching a foul smell.

"Not bad-looking, but that Muggle stench can't be hidden. Another Mudblood, is it?"

Hearing that word, Ron's expression darkened further, and he even shot a worried glance at Charlie.

Mudblood was a highly insulting term in the wizarding world, and Ron feared Charlie would be hurt by it.

But Charlie just looked confused. What the hell? Earth bloodline? (Mud blood.) Sounded kind of cool.

Malfoy turned back to Harry, his tone softening—still arrogant, but at least friendlier than before.

"Potter, you should learn to pick the right friends. Not all wizarding families are the same."

He extended a pale hand.

The implication was clear: he was the right sort.

Harry's face instantly turned cold.

Though he hadn't known Ron and Charlie long, he already considered them friends.

He absolutely couldn't tolerate his friends being insulted.

Even though this guy was trying to be friendly, his attitude was utterly repulsive.

Harry met Malfoy's eyes, his voice calm but firm:

"I think I can tell who my real friends are."

"You'd better stay away from me and my friends, or I'll make you pay."

The words rang out with conviction, but Harry wasn't confident inside. Crabbe and Goyle were too big.

They were practically two oversized Dudleys. If a fight broke out, the three of them probably couldn't take them.

A flicker of surprise crossed Malfoy's face, then he narrowed his eyes:

"Looks like our Savior isn't very smart, choosing to hang around with such lowly blood."

Ron shot to his feet, pointing at Malfoy: "Say that again if you've got the guts!"

Malfoy sneered disdainfully: "Am I wrong? The Weasleys breed like pigs, with so many kids they can't even support them."

He turned back to Charlie, "And this Mudblood."

Charlie listened to all this, feeling a bit baffled.

He could tell "Mudblood" wasn't a compliment, but in his view, this level of insult was child's play.

If you weren't cursing someone's ancestors three generations back or visiting their birthplace, could you even call it a real insult?

But since the guy had come right up in his face, he wouldn't hold back.

Charlie slowly pulled out his wand, his movements elegant and precise.

"Inverted Hook."

The incantation slipped lightly from his lips, carrying an undeniable force.

Before Malfoy and his two cronies could react, they felt their feet lift, and an invisible force yanked them upside down by the ankles, suspending them in midair.

"Ah!"

"Put me down!"

"How dare you attack us?"

The three shouted in panic, flailing wildly to break free, but only thrashed uselessly like fish hooked out of water.

Charlie walked up to Malfoy, looking down at him.

Malfoy's face was flushed red from hanging upside down, his eyes full of terror.

He hadn't expected Charlie to dare attack him, nor that a Muggle-born wizard could use magic so skillfully.

"You... you dare hit me? Do you know who my father is? He's a Hogwarts board member!"

Malfoy threatened, his bluster hollow.

Charlie let out a scoff, a flicker of contempt in his eyes:

"I don't know who your dad is, but you're dumber than a rock."

"With strength this pathetic, you still come looking for trouble. Did a dog screw your brain out? Or did your mom pop you out after mating with a wild boar that turned into a man?"

"Oh wait, maybe that wild boar hasn't become a spirit yet—after all, your brain is worse than a wild boar's that has."

The compartment fell into an instant, terrifying silence.

Harry and Ron stared at Charlie, jaws practically hitting the floor.

They couldn't believe their ears. This was a curse straight from the depths of hell.

The worst they usually heard was a casual "bitch," but compared to Charlie's three words for a mother and a whole sentence for a family, that was practically a delicate little flower.

Malfoy's face went from red to white, then from white to green, and finally settled on purple.

He trembled with rage, but hanging upside down left him unable to mount any effective counterattack.

"I... my mother didn't give birth to me with a wild boar."

"You... you... just you wait! My father won't let you off!"

Malfoy's voice cracked with tears as he ground his teeth.

Charlie remained unmoved. Instead, he leaned in closer, lowering his voice:

"Listen up, little lord. Before your father comes looking for me, I'll shove your head in a toilet and give it a good flush—see if I can't wash out some brains."

With that, Charlie waved his wand and canceled the spell.

The three of them crashed heavily to the floor, letting out pained groans.

"Get lost," Charlie said coldly.

Malfoy scrambled up, eyes brimming with tears:

"You'll regret this!"

He then fled the compartment with his two lackeys in tow.

After the door slid shut, Ron and Harry were still frozen in shock.