Professor McGonagall's eyelids twitched twice.
It was the first time she had ever seen someone use a hat like that—and it was the Sorting Hat, an ancient artifact that had witnessed all of Hogwarts' history.
She forced herself to act as if she hadn't seen anything, took Harry's wand, then raised her own and touched it to his. "Priori Incantatem!"
Magic surged from the tip of Harry's wand and struck a book on the table, making it float in the air.
Professor McGonagall froze.
That was the magic of the Levitation Charm. Had he used it to tidy up after the fight?
She increased the flow of magic. A bright glow began to shine where the wands met.
That was Lumos.
Professor McGonagall furrowed her brow.
This... didn't make sense.
Why would anyone need Lumos in a fight?
Priori Incantatem could reveal the spells a wand had cast, but... what were all these random spells? Even if it wasn't the Imperius Curse, it should have been the Charm of Bewitchment Harry had mentioned.
"So this is showing you the spells I used earlier?" Harry realized why Professor McGonagall had asked for his wand. Witchers always had their weapons confiscated when they were questioned, and he'd assumed it was the same here.
Professor McGonagall's expression was stern. "Yes, Mr. Potter. I believe you owe me an explanation."
"I don't need a wand for that little spell." Harry waved a hand. "If it's all right with you, I can cast it for you?"
McGonagall returned Harry's wand, then casually waved her own and transformed a book on the table into a hamster. "Go ahead, Mr. Potter."
Harry raised his hand and cast the Axii Sign.
The hamster stood up, looking dazed.
"Little fellow, why don't you spin around?" Harry teased it. The hamster was dazed but obedient.
Professor McGonagall leaned back, her expression still stern. The effect of this spell did look a lot like the Imperius Curse.
"It's a kind of bewitching spell," Harry explained simply. "It works exceptionally well on creatures with little intelligence, but it's not as useful on intelligent beings."
The less intelligent the creature, the longer it stayed dazed. During his trial in the dream—a challenge where he had to survive an entire night in a swamp—he had relied on this Sign to escape the claws of a Drowner.
Professor McGonagall thought for a while, then looked at Hooch. "Mr. Potter, perhaps you could try it on me..."
She hadn't even finished speaking.
"Axii!"
Harry immediately raised his hand. He'd been eager to try this.
The Sign worked well on ordinary people, at least it had on his aunt's family.
But he didn't know how it would affect wizards.
Malfoy didn't count. He was only a first-year wizard—just as no one would call an apprentice a Witcher.
Professor McGonagall came to her senses almost at once. Harry furrowed his brow slightly. The effect was weak. The magic inside the professor immediately began to resist and dispel the Sign's power.
She shook her head, her expression finally relaxing, and explained to Professor Hooch, "It's similar to the Confundus Charm."
Professor Hooch relaxed as well.
"The Confundus Charm?" Harry was taken aback. That was beyond the limits of what he knew.
McGonagall waved her wand, changing the hamster squeaking in Harry's hand back into a book. "It's a powerful, dangerous spell. You'll learn about it in your fifth year."
"Did you come up with this spell yourself?"
Harry nodded without speaking, silently confirming it.
"Were you inspired by that spell you used to repel a group of people?" A hint of amusement showed in Professor McGonagall's eyes. "It's an excellent spell. It briefly made me lose my train of thought, and even made me feel a little favorably toward you."
"Using only a hand gesture would be very useful in a duel. Filius will certainly like it."
"You call it the Charm of Bewitchment?"
"That's certainly a very fitting name."
"Mr. Potter, you are indeed very talented."
Harry stood up straight, looking well-behaved. He understood that this was usually when the conversation took a turn.
"But!" Just as Harry expected, Professor McGonagall continued, "An excellent spell doesn't excuse your misbehavior, especially when it involves fighting with Slytherin."
"Let me see..." Professor McGonagall waved her wand, and the timetable flew over to her. "Every Wednesday and Friday evening, you'll serve detention in my office for a month."
"I understand, Professor." Harry nodded.
Professor Hooch hurried Harry back to the Quidditch Pitch, and the rest of the lesson passed without a hitch.
Though they'd lost a lot of time, they still got to fly around in the end.
Harry loved the feeling. Setting aside the physical boost he'd gained from being a Witcher, he could tell that he had a natural talent for flying.
Flying Class was over.
The hungry young wizards streamed toward the Great Hall.
"Harry, what happened when the professor called you over?" Hermione was worried. "After you left, Malfoy kept saying you were about to be expelled. If I hadn't held Ron back, he would've started another fight with Malfoy."
Ron scoffed. "You shouldn't have held me back..."
"No, Hermione did the right thing." Harry cut him off.
With someone backing her up, Hermione immediately felt vindicated.
"You might not have beaten Malfoy," Harry added.
Ron's eyes widened. "No, Harry, how can you say that? You saw it yourself—I gave Malfoy a black eye."
"You caught him by surprise," Harry said, shaking his head. "And he got that black eye when he fell."
"He's a bit sturdier than you, and he's better at casting spells. But the main thing is his wand..."
Hermione interrupted them. "No, that's not the point!"
"Stop talking about fighting!"
"Harry, what punishment did Professor McGonagall give you?"
Harry waved a hand. "Nothing important. She took another twenty points, and gave me a month of detention."
"Another twenty points!" Hermione raised her voice. "That makes forty in total. We couldn't earn that many in a whole month."
Ron said, "Don't worry. You'll definitely earn some..."
"No, we won't!" Hermione stressed. "And don't forget the points Professor Snape took from us."
Harry tried to reassure her. "Hermione, caring about House Points is a good thing, but I have some advice: you'd be better off not doing that."
Hermione gritted her teeth. "It would be wonderful if you actually thought that way!"
"But you don't!"
"If you'd listened to me and not fought with Slytherin, we wouldn't have lost so many points."
Harry sighed and said nothing more.
Ron pursed his lips and followed behind Harry.
Hermione kept muttering to herself, counting up the points on her fingers.
It was only the start of term, and losing forty House Points at once was no small matter. Gryffindor had been slightly ahead thanks to Harry and Hermione, but now their hourglass was nearly empty.
It startled quite a few older students.
The professors were usually cautious about awarding or deducting points, generally taking one or two at a time. Losing five in one go was the kind of treatment Harry got from Snape.
They wondered what had happened. Had the two Weasley twins finally put their wild idea into action and blown up a toilet in one of the bathrooms?
Or had some older student, finally unable to take the pressure of the exams, beaten up Professor Quirrell? Defense Against the Dark Arts was a crucial subject. To get into Gringotts or the Ministry of Magic, students needed at least an "E," the second-highest grade.
They hadn't had an outstanding Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in ages.
They didn't find out until dinner that neither theory was right.
It was that Harry. During Flying Class, he'd led Gryffindor in beating up Slytherin. So Harry had lost forty points and earned a month of detention—while the other young wizards hadn't been punished at all.
That evening.
The Gryffindor Common Room threw a huge party.
George and Fred had snuck a pile of food out of the kitchens, and had even managed to get hold of a few bottles of Butterbeer.
"To our great Lion King!" George raised his glass and offered it to Harry. "A title well deserved!"
Percy was unhappy and tried to stop him. "No, George, Harry can't drink. He's only eleven."
"I'm George, my dear older brother." Fred wrapped his arms around Percy's waist and held him back. "Today's a day worth celebrating, so let's not worry about stuff like that."
"Besides, Harry grew up in the Muggle world. He must have drunk before."
Britain was the only country where children were legally allowed to drink from the age of five, provided their parents were with them.
Harry took the glass and sipped. It was smooth and creamy as butter, with the refreshing taste of beer. "Not bad, but it'd be even better with a bottle of vodka."
Witchers rarely drank, but they had no aversion to alcohol.
George's eyes lit up. "Yes, a bottle of vodka would be great."
"Wood, did you hear the Lion King's command?"
"Not a chance!" The tall Quidditch team captain stood up and spat at George. "We've got class tomorrow. I'm pretty sure Harry has Potions Class."
George looked disappointed. "Oh, all right."
Hermione couldn't understand it. She stared blankly at the noisy crowd—not least at Percy, the Prefect she'd thought would be on her side. The thing he cared about most wasn't the lost points at all. He was fixated on making Harry drink less and stopping Ron from drinking.
"But we lost forty points, and Harry has a month of detention." Hermione found Percy, looking worried. "Why is everyone acting like this?"
Fred leaned over, unconcerned. "So what?"
"We beat Slytherin!"
George had drunk a little too much. He grabbed Fred around the head. "With the Lion King leading us, it wasn't just a win. It was a clean sweep—a crushing victory!"
Percy chuckled. "This is an honor, an honor greater than the House Cup."
Slytherin had held the House Cup for seven years straight.
Gryffindor had always resented it—not because they cared that much about the House Cup. In Hogwarts' thousand-year history, which House hadn't won it hundreds of times?
What they hated was always being outdone by Slytherin.
Harry's arrival had given them hope of striking back. Harry hadn't let them down, and it had only taken a month!
The lion had pounced on the snake and won a great victory!
Hermione was still bewildered. This clashed sharply with what she'd learned in her brief eleven years of life, and with her experiences at school in the ordinary world.
The next day.
Hermione discovered something even more dreadful—she seemed to have been ostracized.
Before, thanks to Harry, the young Lions had been willing to put up with her chattering, her refusal to let people copy her homework, and her attempts to start a wave of academic competition. They could tolerate those "flaws."
But then there was what had happened at the Quidditch Pitch the day before.
Everyone had been fighting Slytherin with all they had, while she stood by and urged them not to fight.
She hadn't chosen to join the group, so naturally the group didn't welcome her.
Aside from Harry, only Ron would still make even the barest effort to talk to her.
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