After hearing the leader's words, the dozen or so students who had been standing still and watching seemed to have finally received a clear instruction, and they all drew their wands at the same time.
More than a dozen beams of light shot toward Herman from different directions. They were of mixed colors and came in different directions. Some hit his head, some hit his chest, and a few that clearly went off course, grazing the ceiling and hitting the wall.
This time, Herman didn't dodge to the side. Instead, he spread his magic outwards, like a large net covering most of the space in front of him.
The quills, scraps of paper, and tiny chess pieces scattered on the ground all flew up, gathering in the air to form a chaotic barrier that blocked most of the beam of light.
The remaining few projectiles hit the sofa in front of him, making a few muffled thuds before going out.
At the same time, he raised his hand and grabbed at the air. The candlesticks in the room began to shake, and the silver-blue flames in the fireplace suddenly leaped up, as if being pulled upwards by something. The students who were casting spells felt a distinct pulling force on their wands. Some instinctively tightened their grip, while others lost their grip, and their wands flew out of their hands and were sucked into the vortex made of shredded paper and quills.
Clearly, these students weren't even as good as the mannequins; they couldn't even hold their own wands properly.
Those without wands were quickly grabbed by the ankles by an invisible force, lifted upside down and suspended in mid-air. Their robes hung down, revealing various kinds of underwear—some white, some gray, some gaudy, and one completely naked, dangling in mid-air, its legs kicking wildly.
Herman stared at the naked man for a moment, then understood why Harry's father's Levicorpus was so humiliating, and why Snape remembered it for so long. It was all thanks to the robes that his underwear was exposed with the slightest breeze, and if the wind were stronger, he could run around naked.
He looked away from the messy area, his voice not loud but loud enough for everyone to hear:
"That's enough for today. If there's a next time, I won't just hang you up like this."
As he finished speaking, he felt a distinct wave of fatigue wash over him from the depths of his body, and his temples began to throb again. His magic power was indeed running low, and he couldn't hold on for much longer.
He raised his hand and withdrew his magic, instantly dispelling the effect of the inverted hanging. The dozen or so people fell from mid-air with a series of thuds, some landing on the sofa, some on the carpet, and some slamming directly onto the edge of the coffee table, producing a series of muffled thuds and screams.
Nott family's son, clutching his arm, propped himself up from the edge of the sofa. His back was still throbbing from hitting the armrest. He didn't rub it, but just frowned and looked down at the wand in his hand that had been knocked away by the carpet and then retrieved. He seemed to want to say something, but his lips moved and then closed again.
He looked up at Herman, his expression shifting from certainty to a more complex one, as if he were suppressing resentment, or wanting to lash out but unable to find the right words.
He didn't say another word, straightened his wand, and turned to walk deeper into the corridor. His steps were much faster than before, and the hem of his robe flicked as he turned, brushing against the edge of the sofa with a soft rustling sound.
Flint followed behind him without looking back, but paused for about half a second at the entrance to the corridor, as if hesitating whether to stop and say something, but ultimately stepped inside.
The girl who had been caught in the carpet by her ankle and tumbled into the armchair was not so composed. When she stood up, the collar of her robe was askew, her hair was disheveled, and she was pulling her hair behind her ear while bending down to pull at the wrinkled hem of her robe.
Her face was burning red, probably because her robe had fallen down and revealed her underwear when she was being Levicorpus. Many people had seen this before she was thrown into the chair, and she was clearly aware of it herself.
She walked quickly down the corridor with her head down, her pace quickening as she passed the fireplace, as if staying even a second longer would remind her of what had just happened, only to be reminded by the shadow cast by the firelight.
The remaining people in the common room all looked away. Some lowered their heads to continue reading, some pretended to be interested in the flames in the fireplace, and some picked up the Wizard's Chess pieces they had just put down and rearranged them. No one glanced at Herman again.
Herman sat down on the edge of the sofa, feeling a sense of exhaustion spreading from the top of his head downwards, as if his whole body had been hollowed out, especially since he had missed dinner and the hunger pangs in his stomach were now striking.
He reached out and took the uneaten pie from Crabbe's hand, took a bite, chewed a few times, swallowed it, and then leaned back into the sofa.
Draco sat down beside him, her gaze still fixed on him, and asked in a low voice, "When did you learn all this?"
Herman took another bite of the pie. "Practice this afternoon."
Draco wanted to ask something more, but seeing him eating his pie with his head down, she didn't speak again. Harry closed her notebook on the other side, her tone flat. "Rapid progress, much better than when you dealt with Cerberus! It's just a bit of a pity, you lack lethality."
Herman didn't look up, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly. "Thank you for the compliment."
The silver-blue flames in the fireplace still flickered quietly, cutting the light in the room into alternating waves of light and shadow, which spread across the sofa and carpet.
Herman finished the last piece of pie under the hostile gazes of Crabbe and Goyle. Pretending not to have seen them, Herman brushed the crumbs off his fingers, leaned back on the sofa for a while, and then lowered his head to open the Introduction to Alchemy.
His gaze fell on the pages. The paper was clean and clear. Although it was handwritten (or perhaps magical), the layout was neat. Although the professor hadn't said anything, it was clear that he had put a lot of effort into it. It was a pity that he had to go to Hagrid's place tomorrow and deal with Neville and his gang. Otherwise, he really wanted to start trying to make some small things tomorrow.
But at least I can get a good night's sleep tonight.
After that fight, the people in the common room who had been staring at him had stopped looking away. It was clear that besides the one who had spoken up, quite a few others had a problem with him Muggle-born.
But no one looked in his direction anymore; the firelight from the fireplace cast a warm glow on the edge of the sofa, making the room quiet and cozy.
Herman turned a page and felt the fatigue slowly receding from his body, like the receding tide.
He leaned back on the sofa, glanced around the now quiet common room, then lowered his head again, his gaze settling on the words on the pages of the book.
For the time being, no one in Slytherin should be bothering him.