Zhang Xiao had spoken that last sentence in Chinese. Though the pure-bloods could not understand it, they instinctively felt it was an insult. They sprang from the sofas and drew the wands they had prepared long before.
Two of them cried out and ran toward Daphne, apparently wanting to check on her.
A contemptuous smile curled Zhang Xiao's lips. Was beating up every first-year in Slytherin difficult? Yes, but not very.
Pansy Parkinson attacked first. Screaming, she fired her best spell at Zhang Xiao with all the ferocity of someone casting Avada Kedavra:
"Rictusempra!"
Zhang Xiao watched the wildly off-target spell. Her wand hand must have shaken as she cast it, making the tip wobble badly.
He had read in Spell theory: Spellcasting tricks you never knew that every slight tremor of the wand hand would be magnified tenfold by the wand and the spell's own fluctuations.
Experts could use those movements to confuse an opponent, but Parkinson could only miss.
The Thunderstruck Wood Wand spun nimbly between his fingers.
Through action, Zhang Xiao taught Parkinson a lesson in launching a subtle attack without warning, rather than shouting out her move and giving her opponent time to prepare.
The force of the Disarming Charm tore her wand from her hand and sent it flying into Zhang Xiao's. As casually as discarding a pen that had run out of ink, he tossed it into the pool beside the stairs.
Pansy Parkinson stared open-mouthed at her empty right hand, then at the wand floating in the water. She burst into tears and shouted between sobs:
"What are you waiting for?"
The other pure-blood wizards snapped out of their daze. They scattered in panic, raised their wands, and shouted the spells they knew best.
Among the crowd, Malfoy drew his wand, his face twisted with indecision and anguish. Several times, he raised it, then lowered it again. But with the older students' eyes fixed on him, he finally gritted his teeth and fired off a few spells, quietly angling his wand tip a little off target.
As a barrage of minor jinxes such as Densaugeo, Incendio, and Locomotor Mortis rained toward him, Zhang Xiao felt as though he had suddenly entered a strange, unfathomable state.
He was furious, yet inexplicably calm, as though his entire being had entered a state of pure reason. He could easily tell which spells would miss and which posed a threat. He even felt he could do certain things without uttering an incantation.
It felt a little like deep Meditation, which should have been utterly still yet held a trace of the most primal restlessness. Only now, the balance was reversed.
Following that peculiar feeling within him, Zhang Xiao tilted his head to evade a Tarantallegra, then ducked beneath a Rictusempra. As he crouched, he rode that momentum and sharply swept his wand through a downward semicircle.
The rug beneath Goyle's feet jerked forward as though an invisible thread had tugged it hard. Caught off guard, his feet slid forward with it, and he went straight onto his back, limbs in the air.
Zhang Xiao rose and turned to evade another spell he did not recognize. Halfway through the turn, he aimed his wand at a vase. Using the momentum of his spin, he hurled it at Zabini as though he had lashed a whip around it.
Even while doing all this, Zhang Xiao had enough attention to spare to wonder, What's going on? I haven't spoken any incantations. How can I do this?
Before he could work out an answer, the crackling barrage of spells had stopped. Zhang Xiao looked up and glanced around in bewilderment, only to discover that he had already knocked down almost all the young wizards.
One or two were still trembling behind the sofas. Malfoy swallowed and stood there shakily with his wand raised, unable to advance or retreat.
After a moment's silence, Zhang Xiao raised his wand and hit him with a Stupefy. If he wanted Malfoy ostracized, he could have chosen not to attack him.
But the gratitude and relief on Malfoy's face just before he passed out made it clear that he understood.
The older pure-bloods were utterly silent. Many watched quietly, and an inscrutable gleam had even appeared in some of their eyes.
This was Slytherin. They were shrewd and ambitious, with the wisdom to assess a situation. They admired strength. Most importantly, they could see which way the wind was blowing and never stood against the prevailing tide.
Just like the police in films, who always arrived late, the professors never seemed to get there early, Zhang Xiao thought.
When the two professors arrived at the Slytherin Common Room and saw young wizards strewn across the floor, they felt as though the sky had fallen:
"Merlin! What on earth happened?"
Professor McGonagall felt dizzy. How many years had it been? Since You-Know-Who's downfall, how many years had passed without an incident this serious?
She shook with anger. As deputy headmistress, she stepped straight past Snape, whose expression was just as grim, and demanded:
"Where are the prefects? Where are Slytherin's prefects? Why didn't they stop this?"
Someone in the crowd said quietly:
"Professor, both prefects have colds. They're still resting in the Hospital Wing..."
Zhang Xiao inwardly spat in disgust. These Slytherins really were thorough. Those Iron-Headed Lions would never have been so meticulous. If a prefect tried to stop them, they would probably have beaten up the prefect too.
Professor McGonagall froze for a moment, having understood their little scheme. That only made her angrier, and she kept muttering:
"Utterly lawless... outrageous..."
What did it mean when both the male and female prefects fell ill at the same time? It meant the whole incident had been planned and premeditated, making it far worse than a clash between students sparked by heated words.
Snape's expression was so dark it looked ready to drip. In a low voice devoid of warmth, he asked coldly:
"What exactly happened? I hope someone will volunteer to tell me... otherwise, if I have to take matters into my own hands, I won't be nearly so gentle..."
As he spoke, he took a small, clear vial from his voluminous cloak:
"I imagine you recognize this..."
"Severus! Using Veritaserum on students is forbidden!" Though Professor McGonagall was furious, upholding school rules was almost instinctive to her. The moment she saw Snape's little crystal vial, she intervened.
Snape drawled, "Perhaps... I might accidentally mix a drop of Veritaserum into some pumpkin juice. A student might happen to drink it, and then he would obligingly spill everything, including how many times he called for his mummy when he wet the bed..."
Many of the silent pure-blood wizards in the crowd turned pale with fright. According to the plan, Zhang Xiao should have been hit by their minor jinxes and humiliated on the spot. A prank like that, especially one targeting a single person, would hardly earn them any punishment.
They had never considered the possibility of failure. Ten against one, only to be defeated themselves? How was that possible?
No one had expected a first-year to be capable of properly casting combat spells such as the Shield Charm and Disarming Charm.
How could they get out of this now? They were like ants on a hot pan, desperate to slip away and write to their parents at once, telling them the plan had gone wrong.
"We have other ways to establish the truth. Mr. Zhang, for instance. He was presumably involved in the incident."
Professor McGonagall turned her clear blue eyes toward Zhang Xiao, who stood to one side, and said sternly:
"Zhang, I want you to tell us everything that happened."
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