Flint hadn't expected Harry to want to teach these Slytherins a lesson too.
Arrogant, boastful, haughty…
Bah! You think you're worthy?
You're a disgrace to the Slytherins of a hundred years ago!
Harry quickly deflected Flint's curse with his wand, sending it back toward him.
It was a very advanced technique; although it appeared to be a simple deflection, it was actually a protective spell.
"Silent casting?" The onlookers were astonished.
No one had expected Harry to possess such skill, usually reserved for adult wizards.
"What are you all standing there for?" Flint roared. Even without his wand, his strong, proud stance was intimidating.
Potter was only a first-year; if Flint moved closer, he should have easily overpowered him!
Yet, after taking only two steps, Flint found himself levitating uncontrollably.
"Expelliarmus!"
Ron's wand glowed, successfully disarming the older student behind Flint who had aimed at Harry.
The wand spun through the air and landed in Ron's hand. Behind him, Seamus and Neville shouted: "That's amazing!"
"My god, Ron! How did you do that?" Neville whispered urgently, clearly wanting to try it himself.
"Harry taught me," Ron said with a smug grin.
"Ronald!" Hermione growled. "Can you focus on the other side? For heaven's sake, we're still in the middle of a fight!"
Ron snapped out of his trance and quickly dodged the spells cast by the older student.
He was only a first-year and had yet to learn the Shield Charm.
It wasn't entirely unfair; in the current British wizarding world, even many adult wizards—and some Aurors—couldn't cast the Shield Charm correctly.
It was the second most dangerous situation, surpassed only by unarmed American police on patrol.
But Neville, standing behind Ron, wasn't so lucky. Hit by the magic, he stiffened and fell flat to the ground.
"Oh, poor Neville," Ron muttered, still shaken, casting a counter-spell to disarm the older student.
Even though the fifth-years hadn't trained their combat coordination, with Harry's combat experience, they were more than capable of handling these sixth-years.
Within minutes, all the sixth-year Slytherins were defeated.
Harry's feelings were mixed; he wasn't proud of the outcome.
Damn, what's happened to Hogwarts?
Sixth-years, unable even to protect themselves with basic shielding, couldn't defeat a junior wizard with only a month of training…
Are all the fifth-years really this useless now?
Harry remembered that by his own fifth year, he could easily face three members of the Ashbringer gang alone.
Compared to these sixth-years, he was leagues ahead.
"Finite!" Harry cast a counter-spell on Neville.
Neville finally rose, rubbing his sore head and grumbling that Ron hadn't warned him.
"Man, that came out of nowhere," Ron apologized. "I didn't expect the spell to hit you."
"Potter! Put us down!" Flint's voice echoed.
"Sorry," Harry said casually, "I didn't realize you Slytherins were so fragile."
Of the seven sixth-year Slytherins who had tried to defend Pansy, two floated in the air while five lay stiffly on the ground.
"Apologize to Hermione," Harry commanded.
"Not to that stinky mudblood!" Flint snapped from midair.
Harry's face turned cold.
With a flick of his wand, Flint hit the ground with a dull thud.
"I said, apologize!"
Harry raised his wand again, and Flint recoiled in horror as he found himself kneeling involuntarily.
"Like father, like son," Harry shrugged. "Your behavior says a lot about how despicable your family must be."
"How dare you insult the Flint family! You'll pay for this!" Flint ground his teeth.
"Can't handle it?" Harry crouched slightly, pity in his tone. "When you insulted others, did you ever consider the consequences? If you ask me, only a fifth-rate wizarding family could produce a fifth-rate wizard like you…"
"Stop!"
A clear voice rang from the edge of the crowd, interrupting Harry.
The students parted as Gemma Farley, the Slytherin prefect, stepped forward carrying books.
"What happened?" Prefect Farley looked around sternly.
"Miss Farley, here's the situation…"
Immediately, a Slytherin student stepped up, adding details.
"So, Flint, Paul, and Derek!" Prefect Farley's voice was sharp with anger. "You sixth-years were defeated by three Gryffindor first-years?"
"Look at you, Flint! Your family will be disgraced because of you!" she scolded again.
"Miss Farley, Potter insulted my family…"
Flint was cut off by the prefect.
"Shut up!" Prefect Farley raised her head. "You asked for it! Who do you think you are to speak that word? Slytherin loses ten points for your insolence!"
"And you, Miss Parkinson, lose ten points as well!" she added.
Prefects could deduct house points from other students as punishment.
They could also assign students to solitary confinement.
All the Slytherins were stunned; they never expected their prefect to penalize their house.
Was she really siding with outsiders?
But Gemma understood the dilemma. If it were a conflict between lower-year students, it wouldn't be so serious. But this was a sixth-year bullying a first-year. If the teachers found out, it wouldn't just be a twenty-point deduction.
Moreover, Marcus Flint and Pansy Parkinson had openly insulted the Gryffindor students, calling them Mudbloods—a highly offensive term.
"You are a fair prefect," Harry said, bowing gracefully to Miss Farley. "If there's nothing more, we'll be going."
"Wait a moment, Mr. Potter," Miss Farley called after him.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is there something else?"
Miss Farley stepped forward, her long black hair swaying lightly in the breeze.
"I challenge you to a wizarding duel," she said.
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