"Let me teach you a lesson," Marcus sneered smugly. "Densaugeo!"
It was a beginner's jinx, one that made the victim's front teeth grow absurdly long. Weak in power, but brutally humiliating.
Leonard watched the spell shoot straight at his face without the slightest ripple of emotion. He even had the leisure to wonder what use such a spell really had.
To the others, though, his calm looked like he'd frozen in fear. The six Slytherin students surrounding him were practically bouncing with excitement, eager to watch him make a fool of himself.
Especially Draco Malfoy. After being frightened twice already by Leonard, his face twisted into something feral. He could hardly wait for the whole school to see Leonard's panic when his teeth stretched down to his feet.
But his wish was doomed to fail.
Leonard shifted slightly to the side, letting the spell pass cleanly by before it struck Draco Malfoy dead-on.
The impact knocked Malfoy back a few steps. Before he could even react, his front teeth began to surge outward like weeds, splitting his lip and filling his mouth with blood.
Malfoy paled and let out a wailing scream, tears welling rapidly in his eyes.
"M–Malfoy?" Marcus froze, staring at him blankly. Watching Malfoy shriek and bleed, he faltered, wondering if he ought to help reverse the jinx—until he saw Leonard walking slowly toward him.
"Do you cast that spell on others because you can't stand your own disgusting buck teeth?" Leonard's face carried a smile as he advanced step by step.
That smile—so warm, yet paired with eyes like ice—sent a chill straight down Marcus's spine.
No wonder Malfoy had cried.
The thought flashed instinctively through his mind.
"D–don't come any closer!" Marcus stammered, stumbling backward. He barked at his cronies, "You two, get him!"
Panicked, the two raised their wands and fired a spell at Leonard.
"Stupefy!"
The Stunning Spell shot forward, but the caster's trembling hands ruined his aim.
The red flash missed Leonard entirely and smacked straight into Goyle, dropping him flat on the floor with a howl.
Hearing the crash behind him, Leonard paused, glancing back at the fallen Goyle whose face was plastered with bewilderment.
Seriously...? What kind of spellwork is this?
Striking your teammates, protecting your enemies?
Leonard turned back, interest in the group gone completely.
He closed in on Marcus, ready to end this farce.
"You!" Marcus shouted, face flushing with rage as he aimed his wand. "Stupefy—"
But before the spell could leave his lips, a slender hand closed over his wand. With a simple tug, Leonard plucked it effortlessly from his grip.
Marcus froze, staring at his empty hand, then up at Leonard, his beady eyes full of confusion.
What kind of move was that? Doesn't he know the rules of fair play?!
Leonard's lips curled into a smirk. His voice dropped to a soft murmur. "You know what? I've always hated your buck teeth."
"What?" Marcus blurted instinctively—
And then a fist, small but fierce, crashed into his face.
Crack!
Blood and spit flew with the shattered front teeth as Marcus's body lifted off the ground, eyes glazing over.
This wasn't right. This wasn't something a wizard was supposed to do.
Marcus's mind screamed for a good ten seconds before he slumped into unconsciousness.
The cronies behind him stared dumbly at the spray of blood and teeth in the air. When Marcus hit the floor, knocked out cold, their first instinct was to shout—only to each catch a heavy fist, dropping them beside him.
With the three upper-year cannon fodder dealt with, Leonard crouched down, wiping the blood from his knuckles onto Marcus's robes. He glanced once at Marcus's tear-streaked, contorted face.
Disgusting.
With a look of pure disdain, Leonard scrubbed his hands more forcefully, then rose and turned his eyes to the Malfoy trio.
They weren't faring much better. Goyle had been taken out by his "good mate's" own Stunning Spell. Draco Malfoy's mouth hung open, drool sliding down from front teeth stretched so long they brushed his chest—he looked like a complete fool.
The only one unharmed, Crabbe, buzzed around the other two like a headless fly, nearly bowling Malfoy over.
If not for those absurd teeth preventing him from speaking, Malfoy would already be raging at him.
Time to end this farce.
Leonard flexed his fists, the sharp crack of his knuckles echoing. From his sleeve, unseen by others, the Ancient Sprout wriggled out, curling its leaves like tiny fists and shadowboxing at the air.
Malfoy's face went ghost-pale. He had seen what had just happened to Marcus and the others—he turned to flee in blind panic.
At that moment, a dark figure emerged from the staircase. Cloaked in black, with greasy, disheveled hair and the sharp, acrid scent of strange potions hanging off him, he drew every eye the instant he appeared.
"Professor Snape!" Malfoy mumbled desperately through his oversized teeth, lurching toward him like a drowning man spotting land. Once Snape lifted the jinx, he cried out, "He attacked us!"
Snape's brow arched. He looked from Malfoy's grotesquely lengthened teeth to the unconscious Goyle and then to Marcus and his bloodied cronies nearby. His expression grew darker, more sinister.
He opened his mouth to speak, but the Hufflepuff boy stepped forward first.
"My apologies, Professor," Leonard said politely. "I'm the one who injured them. I'm truly sorry."
He admitted fault without hesitation, with all the poise of a craftsman bowing for his mistake.
Snape's expression softened a fraction, though his presence was still intimidating.
"You're in Hufflepuff, aren't you? What's your name?" Snape asked slowly, already calculating how many points to strip away.
"My name is Leonard William. Forgive me, Professor—I lost my temper." Leonard's face showed meek remorse, even as Malfoy gaped at him in disbelief. "But I really couldn't help it. They kept calling me a mudblood."
Leonard furrowed his brow in troubled innocence. "I could feel their malice, so I lashed out. But… I don't even know what 'mudblood' means."
Snape's face went black at once.
Malfoy, thinking he had found his shield, puffed himself up and barked, "Mudblood means you! You filthy Muggle-born mudblood!"
Dancing right on the edge of disaster.
"Mr. Malfoy." Snape's voice cut in—smooth, but with a dangerous tremor.
"Professor?" Malfoy blinked at him, finally noticing the normally overprotective Head of Slytherin was wearing a truly terrifying look. His eyes were murderous, as if itching to wring a child's neck.
And that child was Draco Malfoy.