The echoes of Henry's dramatic defense of Lestrange still reverberated through the stone walls of the Great Hall. The tension in the air was thick, like an impending storm. Neville sat back, his face flushed with disbelief, struggling to comprehend what he had just witnessed.

Neville: "By Merlin's beard... what was that? He stood by Lestrange—over a Longbottom? How could he? Now I see why they whisper of him as a Dark Lord. What kind of madness drives a person to do something like that?"

Susan let out a hollow laugh, one that echoed unnervingly through the silence. Her eyes glinted, distant, as if recalling a memory steeped in shadows.

Susan: "What did you expect, Neville? What do you think he would do when someone dares speak ill of his friend? Henry invited every Gryffindor, from first to seventh year, to a wizard's duel, right there in the heart of the Great Hall. And not just that—he had the Headmaster and our Heads of Houses as witnesses. All to defend her honour."

The group stared at her, confusion etched across their faces.

Charlie: "Wait, wait—he did what? A duel? How? What happened?"

Susan's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. But there was a darkness in her voice as she spoke, a chill that ran through the group.

Susan: "He did it... blindfolded. He defeated every last challenger, one by one, without so much as a glance. And he never once faltered."

Neville: "He... defeated everyone? Even the older students, the ones who've studied for their OWLs and NEWTs? With a blindfold?"

Hannah, shaking her head: "Yes, that's why none of them have the standing they claim. The so-called noble students? Henry doesn't care about that. To him, it's all meaningless."

Charlie: "Hold on... why did he have to duel in the first place? What brought this on?"

Susan sighed, her gaze distant as she gathered her thoughts.

Hannah: "It all began in our first year. Lestrange... she wasn't welcomed easily. She had a hard time finding her place. The other students—well, they didn't exactly warm to her."

Before she could continue, Susan interjected sharply, as if unable to keep the bitterness at bay.

Susan: "Warm to her? That's an understatement. She was bullied, tormented by nearly everyone. Not a soul offered her a hand. Not even her Head of House, Professor McGonagall. She was left to fend for herself. And do you know what hurt Henry most of all? The fact that no one stood by her—not McGonagall, not even Dumbledore. Everyone turned a blind eye, so Henry took matters into his own hands."

A stunned silence fell over the group as they absorbed her words.

Charlie, his voice hoarse with disbelief, asked: "What did he do?"

Susan: "He did what he had to. You see, when we first arrived, Henry kept to himself. He was distant, aloof. People thought he was jealous of you, Charlie—thought he couldn't stand being in your shadow. But after just a week, they realized it wasn't that at all."

Charlie blinked in shock.

Charlie: "Me? Jealous of me?"

Susan: yes, But, after a week, everyone's perspective changed towards him. (she continued). Me and Hannah, sorted into Hupplepuff, Daphne Greengrass, Tracy Davis, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini sorted into Slytherin. Your brother sorted into Ravenclaw, But Violetta Lestrange, she sorted into Gryffindor. No one liked her presence, no talked to her, no one helped her. Not even gryffindor but entire Hogwarts against her, except your brother, he always respected her.

The air felt heavy with the weight of Susan's words. Charlie and Neville exchanged a look of stunned realization.

Charlie: "But why? Why did he do it? Why her?"

Susan, her eyes clouded with a mix of admiration and mystery, spoke softly: "Why? I never understood it, not fully. But he did. He always did. While the rest of us tried to make sense of him, to break through his walls, he always made time for her. For Violetta. And no one understood it. Not even I could. But he respected her—truly respected her."

Neville, still shaken by the revelation, shook his head slowly.

Susan: You know Henry was top of our year.

Charlie felt pride at this news and says: Really?

Susan: yes, he was a prodigy. In everything, he's a master of everything. But he hates transfiguration.

Charlie: why?

Susan: in our first class, after his brilliant work, McGonagall compared him to your father, since then he stops performing in her class, only performs better in exams. She always says that he can do NWET level work easily, the same applies to every subject. He is master at potions, Arithmancy. Ancient runes and potions.

Charlie: but, those two were electives that you can only take it on your third year. Isn't it? And NEWT level Transfiguration seriously?

Susan: did I forget to mention your brother was gifted? and, Henry didn't wait for rules to catch up with him. He was gifted beyond anything you could imagine. And he never cared for rules. Never.

Charlie: a wry smile playing on his lips, added: "Of course he didn't."

Susan: In our first year, Henry didn't get along with Daphne. She was sharp-tongued, venomous, always ready to bite. But during one of our first flying lessons, when both Daphne's and my brooms went out of control...

Neville: his eyes wide with curiosity, asked: "What happened then?"

Susan: Henry saved us both, effortlessly. He steadied the brooms with just a flick of his wrist. After that, Daphne changed. She kept her sharp words in check. She realized there was more to Henry than anyone knew.

Neville: how Charlie's brother involved in Snape's suspension.

Susan: it's all started with ….

Flashback: A Storm Unleashed in the Great Hall (Henry's first year):

The Great Hall, two weeks into the school year, was abuzz with the clatter of cutlery and chatter of students. Among the Ravenclaws sat Henry Potter, a figure of cold poise, engrossed in his thoughts. The heir to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter was no ordinary first-year, and his presence alone cast an air of intrigue.

From the corner of his eye, Henry detected an unsettling flicker of dark magic, its signature invasive and malicious. He didn't need to look to know its source—Severus Snape was approaching with his usual contempt, eyes gleaming with disdain. A faint ripple of controlled power emanated from Henry as he prepared for what he knew was coming.

Just as Snape's hand darted toward his hair, Henry ducked, the motion swift and precise. Snape stumbled, his hand smacking the edge of the chair, earning laughter from nearby students. His sallow face turned a blotchy red, and his lips curled into a furious sneer.

"Potter!" Snape's voice was venomous, cutting through the hall's din. "How dare you disgrace me in front of the students! Skipping my class, are you? Thinking you're above the rules, just like your father?"

Henry turned slowly, his calm gaze locking onto Snape. The temperature in the Great Hall plummeted as an invisible wave of magic rolled off the young Potter. His hair floated as though caught in an unseen wind, and his emerald eyes glowed with an ethereal, predatory light.

Snape hesitated, but his fury overrode his caution. "Nothing but scum, your lot. Your family—your house—has always been nothing but a stain on the wizarding world. You should be—"

He didn't finish.

In a blur, Henry stood, grabbing Snape by the throat and slamming him onto the Ravenclaw table. Plates and goblets clattered as gasps echoed across the room. Snape's wand clattered to the floor, and with a cold, deliberate motion, Henry twisted Snape's arm with a sickening crack.

"HENRY POTTER!" Dumbledore's voice boomed, reverberating through the hall. "Release Professor Snape immediately!"

Henry didn't move. His grip tightened, and another bone snapped.

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall shrieked. "Detention for a year, and 100 points from Ravenclaw!"

Henry turned his glowing gaze to her, an amused, almost mocking smile gracing his lips. "Professor, your ignorance is showing. As the Scion of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, my punishment can only be decreed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or the Board of Governors. Certainly not by a headmaster—or a professor."

McGonagall's mouth opened and closed in shock. "What nonsense! I haven't heard that type of rule Release him at once!"

Henry's smile turned icy. "Ignorance of the laws that govern us does not excuse your incapacity to understand them. if you haven't heard means that it doesn't mean it isn't there, it means you are incapable dunderhead"

The hall fell deathly silent. Everyone gasped at the insult, while that witch shocked and don't know how to respond to the insult.

Dumbledore's usually calm voice wavered. "Henry, please. Let this end. Do not force me to intervene."

Henry's tone was a chilling mix of power and contempt. "You, Dumbledore of a lesser house, presume too much. This is a matter of honour—an insult to the House of Potter. Your interference is neither needed nor wanted. this is house potter's business. This fool. Severus Snape of which house, I didn't hear a house name Snape, so it's a mudblood house. (everyone gasped at the insult even Dumbledore eyes widened, while Snape couldn't move from the lock he was in, he thought 'how dare the brat to call him a mudblood'). He insulted me, insulted the one who gave me birth, I wont mind for that. But this filthy lower life insulted my house, the most ancient and most noble house of potter. I as the heir to my house has a duty to protect the reputation of the house, so I demand the retribution. "

Snape, despite his pain, spat, "I don't care about your precious house, Potter!"

Henry tilted his head, his grip unrelenting. "Avenging your old master, are you? but you messed with the wrong potter. How loyal of you to your old master? Shall we show everyone just how deep your loyalty runs?"

With a flick of his wrist, he pulled up Snape's sleeve, exposing the Dark Mark etched into his skin. A collective gasp swept through the hall, fear and shock rippling among the students. The Muggle-borns and half-bloods stared, wide-eyed, at the man they'd trusted as their teacher.

Dumbledore took a step forward, his voice rising. "Henry, enough! You've made your point."

But Henry's aura surged, green tendrils of power coalescing around him into the shape of a massive, snarling wolf. "This is not over, Dumbledore. The House of Potter does not forget. I will report this to the Board, and let them decide the fate of a Death Eater teaching in this school. And off course your little mind attack too"

McGonagall: you are attending detention …

Flitwick: are you daft Minerva, he is the scion of one of the seven, you didn't know the chatter?

"Henry, please! it isn't necessary" Dumbledore implored, but his tone betrayed his unease.

Henry's gaze turned colder still. "Dumbledore, you may rule this castle, but your authority ends at me. You may be the king of the castle but, not to me, I am my own king. and Control? May be this castle wards are in your control but Henry Potter is always out of control."

The wild wolf howled, and with one final glare, Henry released Snape, who crumpled to the floor, clutching his shattered hands. The hall remained frozen as Henry calmly returned to his seat, untouched by the chaos he had unleashed.

Dumbledore stood silently, his face grave, his mind racing. The boy was unlike anything he'd anticipated—a force of raw power and unyielding will. He had underestimated Henry Potter, and now the game had shifted.

End of the flashback

After hearing this, charlie couldn't control himself and asked: what happened next?

Susan: what will happen? Snape was put into probation. An enquiry placed on him. And for Dumbledore. He went scot free from anything but he got a lot of backlash on that day. But he was placed on scrutiny, that if any attempts of legimency on any children again, he will be out of the school. That day everyone got to know that Henry is not the one to mess with

Neville: but, how he involved in the duel with Gryffindors for the Lestrange girl.

Susan continued to tell them both about the duel happened in her first year

flashback

The Great Hall Duel: Henry Potter's Stand (in henry's first year)

The Great Hall was ablaze with the chatter of students enjoying their evening feast, the enchanted ceiling reflecting a stormy sky. Lightning illuminated the chamber when the doors creaked open with a slow, deliberate groan.

Every head turned as Henry Potter entered. His green eyes blazed with an ethereal fire, their intensity almost feral. Around him, a vivid green aura shimmered and writhed, taking the form of a snarling dire wolf, its translucent jaws snapping at the air as if to warn anyone foolish enough to approach.

Trailing behind him was Violetta Lestrange, her small frame trembling as she clutched her robes. The whispers began immediately. Lestrange. A name that conjured images of dark deeds and Azkaban.

Henry stepped forward, his boots echoing ominously on the stone floor. He stopped in the centre of the hall, his aura flaring brighter as he turned his gaze toward the Gryffindor table.

"Silence!" His voice cracked through the hall like a whip. Conversations halted mid-sentence, and the room grew unnervingly still.

"My patience runs thin," Henry began, his voice sharp and deliberate. "I am here because one among you—one undeservingly sorted into the House of Bravery—has chosen to torment Violetta Lestrange. A girl who has done nothing but exist."

He let the words hang in the air, his burning gaze sweeping over the Gryffindors. "You, the lions of Hogwarts, the paragons of courage—do you take pride in bullying a first-year girl? Or are your fabled virtues as hollow as your wands?"

A ripple of anger surged through the Gryffindor table. Bill Weasley, the eldest and most composed, stood. "You have no right to lecture us, Potter," he said, his voice hard. "You don't understand what her family has done—"

Henry cut him off with a raised hand, his aura snapping like a whip. "Her family, Weasley? Her family? Shall we hold you accountable for every sin of yours?" His eyes gleamed dangerously. "Should I judge the Weasley name by your brothers Fred and George, who are known more for destruction than intellect? Or by Percy, who would sooner drown in his rulebook than help his peers?"

Percy's face flushed red as laughter erupted from the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. Fred and George glared, muttering under their breaths.

Henry continued, his voice low and biting. "If you lack the courage to defend one of your own, then I will defend her in your place." He gestured to Violetta, who looked up at him with wide, tearful eyes. "She is under the protection of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter. Any insult to her is an insult to me. And for that, there will be consequences."

He took a step forward, his voice rising. "I challenge every Gryffindor here—from first-year to seventh—to a duel. Not one-on-one. All of you."

Gasps echoed through the hall.

"And to make it fair," he added with a smirk, "I'll duel you blindfolded."

Dumbledore rose at the staff table, his voice calm yet firm. "Mr. Potter, this is highly inappropriate. I must insist—"

Henry turned to him, his expression as cold as the storm outside. "With all due respect, Headmaster, you had your chance to act. Your silence speaks volumes about your priorities. This is now beyond your authority."

Dumbledore's blue eyes narrowed slightly, but he sat back down, curiosity flickering behind his composure.

Henry conjured a black silk blindfold and tied it over his blazing green eyes. The hall seemed to hold its breath.

As Henry finished tying the blindfold over his eyes, the tension in the room became palpable. The very air seemed heavier, thrumming with the charged energy of his magic. His aura flared, the green dire wolf pacing restlessly around him, its translucent form snarling as though ready to pounce on anyone who dared step forward.

Before the duel could begin, Professor McGonagall rose sharply from her seat, her voice cutting through the silence. "This is preposterous! Mr. Potter, I will not allow such an undignified display—"

Henry tilted his head toward her, though his eyes were covered. His voice was calm, but the steel beneath it was unmistakable. "Undignified, Professor? Is it undignified to hold your house accountable for tormenting an innocent girl? Or is it undignified because it exposes your failure to lead them?"

McGonagall's cheeks flushed. "You will not speak to me in such a tone—"

"Why not?" Henry interrupted, his voice rising slightly. "You've done nothing to earn my respect. You sit on your pedestal, praising Gryffindor's supposed bravery, yet you allow them to behave like a pack of jackals. Is this the legacy you're so proud of, Professor? A house of cowards who bully a first-year because they lack the courage to confront their own fears?"

A ripple of murmurs spread across the hall. McGonagall opened her mouth to respond, but Henry cut her off again. "I suggest you sit down and observe, Professor. Perhaps you'll learn something about true leadership."

Albus Dumbledore rose this time, his expression calm but with an edge of warning in his voice. "Henry, I must insist—"

"You must insist?" Henry's tone dripped with mockery. "How quaint. Tell me, Headmaster, where was this insistence when a child under your care was being humiliated daily? Or do you reserve your interventions for moments when your reputation is at stake?"

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly, though his voice remained measured. "You are allowing anger to cloud your judgment. This is not the way to resolve—"

"This is not anger, Headmaster," Henry snapped, his voice cutting like a blade. "This is action. Something you seem unfamiliar with."

Gasps rippled through the hall. Dumbledore's expression turned unreadable, but a flicker of disappointment passed through his eyes.

"You wield disappointment as though it's a weapon," Henry continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "But it does not work on me, old man. Your failure to act has already condemned your authority in my eyes. Sit down, and let me handle the mess you allowed to fester."

For a moment, Dumbledore hesitated, his hand resting lightly on the staff table. Then, with a slight nod, he returned to his seat, his gaze fixed intently on Henry.

Henry's blindfolded head tilted slightly, as if listening to the silent tension in the room. "Enough delays," he said. "Step forward, if you dare."

A first-year Gryffindor hesitantly raised his wand, his hand trembling. "E-Expelliarmus!"

Henry flicked his wrist, and a gold Galleon flew from his pocket, deflecting the spell with a sharp clang. The coin spun in the air before landing back in his hand.

"Your hesitation betrays your weakness," Henry said coldly. "Next."

A second-year followed, casting a Stupefy. Henry sidestepped gracefully, his movements unnervingly fluid. Without raising a wand, he conjured a thin chain of green fire that snaked through the air and wrapped around the boy's wand, yanking it from his grasp.

"Disarmed in three seconds," Henry noted mockingly. "Is this truly Gryffindor's best?"

Fred and George Weasley advanced next, their faces alight with determination. "Try this, Potter!" Fred shouted, hurling a barrage of jinxes. George followed with a Confundus charm, their spells weaving a chaotic dance in the air.

Henry didn't move. With a wave of his hand, the spells collided mid-air, erupting into a harmless burst of sparks. As the twins tried to flank him, Henry spun, catching Fred's wand arm with a precise grip. He twisted sharply, sending the wand clattering to the ground, before sending George stumbling backward with a sharp shove of raw magical force.

"You call yourselves pranksters," Henry sneered. "But your tricks are nothing compared to the precision of a true master."

When Bill Weasley stepped forward, the hall fell silent. His presence was commanding, his wand raised with steady determination.

"Finally," Henry said, his tone almost amused. "Someone who might last longer than a few seconds. Let's see if the eldest Weasley can redeem his house's shattered pride."

"Incarcerous!" Bill shouted, ropes shooting toward Henry.

Henry raised his hand, catching the ropes mid-air as though plucking them from existence. The chains twisted and turned, then reversed direction, wrapping tightly around Bill's legs and pulling him to the ground.

Bill gritted his teeth and sent a powerful Stunning Spell toward Henry, who deflected it with another Galleon. The spell ricocheted off the coin and struck a nearby Gryffindor bench, splitting it in half.

"Predictable," Henry said coldly. He approached Bill, who was struggling to free himself from the magical ropes. "You might be brave, Weasley, but bravery without strategy is nothing more than recklessness."

With a flick of his hand, the ropes vanished, leaving Bill on his knees. Henry said mockingly. "Shut up. You're embarrassing yourself."

Charlie Weasley stepped into the ring, his shoulders squared and his wand gripped tightly. "You've made your point, Henry," Charlie said, his tone firm. "But this ends here. You've crossed the line."

Henry tilted his head, an almost feral smile playing on his lips. "Crossed the line? The line was crossed when your house chose cruelty over camaraderie. I'm merely redrawing it."

Charlie's jaw tightened. He raised his wand. "Confringo!"

The Blasting Curse shot toward Henry like a bolt of fire. With a flick of his wrist, Henry summoned a translucent shield of green flames that absorbed the curse, redirecting its energy toward the ceiling. The enchanted sky rippled as the spell fizzled out.

"Is this the famed Gryffindor fire?" Henry taunted, stepping closer. "Pathetic. Your spell had all the force of a candle's flicker. Perhaps you should leave the real magic to your betters."

Charlie roared in frustration, launching a volley of hexes. Henry moved like a specter, weaving through the onslaught with a predatory grace. At one point, he caught a curse mid-air, the raw energy crackling in his hand before he sent it hurtling back. Charlie barely managed to dodge as the ground near his feet exploded.

"Bravery without control," Henry said, his voice like ice.

By now, Gryffindor's table was in shambles. Over thirty students lay scattered across the hall, their wands discarded, their pride shattered. The remaining students hesitated, their wands trembling in their hands as they looked at Henry with a mixture of fear and awe.

"You call yourselves lions," Henry said, his voice rising to fill the hall. "Yet all I see are sheep, bleating about family legacies and cowering when faced with true power. You lack discipline. You lack wisdom. You lack honor."

Fred and George, battered but stubborn, launched themselves at Henry one final time. Their wands moved in perfect unison, conjuring a web of spells meant to trap him.

Henry smirked. With a wave of his hand, the web froze mid-air, its shimmering strands twisting into the shape of a massive wolf. The magical beast lunged forward, scattering the twins as it dissipated in a burst of light.

"Persistent, I'll give you that," Henry said as he turned to the rest of the Gryffindors. "But persistence without purpose is just stubbornness. And stubbornness won't win you a duel."

Bill Weasley stepped forward again, his jaw set in defiance. Henry's smirk widened. "Still standing, are you? Let's end this."

Bill cast a powerful Stunning Spell, and Henry didn't even flinch. Instead, he caught the spell with his bare hand, the raw energy crackling against his fingers before dissipating harmlessly. He stepped forward, placing a hand on Bill's shoulder.

"You have courage," Henry said, his voice softer but no less cutting. "But courage alone is not enough. Remember that." He pushed Bill back violently, and the older boy sank to his knees, defeated.

The next wave of Gryffindors charged, wands raised, spells flying in every direction. Stunners, hexes, and curses lit the air like fireworks, but Henry moved like a phantom, sidestepping and countering with a ruthless efficiency.

One by one, their wands were torn from their hands, each one caught mid-air by Henry's precise movements. He disarmed them with such casual grace that it seemed almost insulting, as if their best efforts were nothing more than an inconvenience.

A sixth-year launched a particularly powerful Blasting Curse, the fiery bolt roaring toward Henry with devastating speed. Without flinching, he flicked his wrist, summoning a shimmering shield that absorbed the spell entirely. As the shield dissipated, Henry extended his arm, and the sixth-year's wand flew to him as though summoned by a magnetic force.

"Thank you," Henry said coolly, adding the wand to his growing collection.

Henry slowly untied the blindfold, revealing those smoldering green eyes. They burned brighter than before, like twin infernos fueled by the humiliation he was inflicting on Gryffindor. His dire wolf aura, now larger and more defined, prowled around him, growling low as though daring anyone to step forward.

By now, Henry had amassed over a dozen wands. He held them in one hand, their polished wood glinting under the enchanted ceiling. His dire wolf aura snarled and grew, its form becoming almost corporeal as his magic surged.

"I think it's time I returned your magic," Henry said, his lips curling into a dangerous smile.

He raised the captured wands, holding five in each hand, and with a sharp gesture, unleashed a storm of spells. Ropes of conjured light erupted from the tips of the wands, lashing out like striking vipers. The Gryffindors scrambled to defend themselves, but the spells were too fast, too precise.

One by one, they were bound and forced to their knees, their wands useless in Henry's iron grip. The bindings glowed faintly green, a reflection of the raw power coursing through them.

"Look at you," Henry said, his voice carrying a biting edge. "Humbled by your own magic. Do you see now? Courage without control is recklessness. Pride without skill is arrogance. And you—" he gestured to the kneeling students with the wands he still held— "are nothing but a pack of misguided fools."

"I have made my point," he said, his voice carrying through the hall. "The House of Potter stands for honor and justice. If any of you—student or professor—dares to harm Violetta Lestrange again, you will answer to me."

He turned his gaze to Professor McGonagall, who sat stiffly at the staff table, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Is this the house you're so proud of, Professor? A house that boasts courage but hides behind numbers to attack a child? Perhaps the Sorting Hat made a mistake. Or perhaps it merely reflects the blind incompetence of its overseer."

McGonagall's face flushed deep red, and she rose to her feet. "That is enough, Mr. Potter! You have made your point. This...this cruelty serves no purpose!"

Henry's laugh was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. "Cruelty? Is it cruel to defend someone who cannot defend herself? Is it cruel to hold your house accountable for its hypocrisy? Perhaps if you had done your job, Professor, I wouldn't have had to."

McGonagall bristled, but before she could respond, Henry turned his attention to Albus Dumbledore.

"That is enough, Henry," Dumbledore said, his voice firm but calm. He had risen from his seat, his piercing blue eyes fixed on the boy.

Henry turned toward him, the captured wands still clutched in his hands. His green eyes blazed as he met the headmaster's gaze. "Enough? Oh no, Headmaster. I don't think so. Enough will be when your house learns the consequences of their actions."

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his hands steepled. "You have proven your strength, Henry. But strength without compassion is—"

"Spare me the platitudes, Headmaster," Henry interrupted, his voice cold. "Your compassion has a peculiar habit of showing itself only when it is too late. Where was your compassion when Violetta was being mocked in your halls? Where was it when your lions turned into hyenas, tearing into her for something beyond her control?"

Dumbledore's expression remained calm, though his eyes darkened slightly. "It is not my intention to justify their actions. But your methods—"

"My methods are effective," Henry snapped. "More than can be said for yours. You speak of kindness and understanding, yet you allow injustice to fester under your nose. Do not lecture me on morality, old man. Your inaction speaks louder than any sermon you might give."

The hall was deathly silent. Even the staff seemed unsure of how to react.

Dumbledore raised a hand as if to quell the tension. "Violence breeds more violence—"

"And inaction breeds injustice," Henry interrupted, his voice cutting through the hall like a blade. "Do not lecture me on morality, old man. You stood by while your lions turned into jackals. Perhaps if you had acted, I wouldn't have needed to.

"You manipulate others with a smile and soft words," Henry continued, his voice laced with disdain. "But I see through you. You sit atop your pedestal, playing chess with lives, all in the name of some grand vision only you understand. Perhaps it's time someone turned the board on you."

Finally, he turned to Dumbledore. "And you, Headmaster, should consider whether your inaction is wisdom—or cowardice."

The Great Hall was a battlefield. The Gryffindors, bound and defeated, knelt in silence as Henry surveyed the destruction. His dire wolf aura circled him one final time before fading, leaving an oppressive stillness in its wake.

He dropped the captured wands to the floor in a heap, the clatter echoing through the hall.

"Take them," he said, his voice low and menacing. "And remember this day. The House of Potter stands for justice. Cross us again, and I will ensure that you never forget the consequences."

He turned to McGonagall, his expression gaze cold. "Teach your lions to roar for the right reasons, Professor. Or they'll continue to fall to true predators."

Finally, he faced Dumbledore. "You manipulate lives with your words and call it wisdom. But mark my words, Headmaster: even the mightiest chess masters eventually fall to their pawns."

Without waiting for a response, Henry walked to Violetta, who had watched the entire duel with wide, tear-filled eyes. He extended his hand to her, his aura fading as the dire wolf dissipated into the air.

"Come," he said softly. "You're safe now my lady."

Violetta flanged herself at him and started to sob, where he stroking her ebony curls, tried to control her, everyone in the hall seeing him in shock.

As they left the Great Hall, the silence was deafening.

End of the flashback

"Wow," Charlie muttered, still shaken.

Neville nodded slowly. "Yeah, but…why? For her, really?"

Before anyone could respond, Susan Bones shook her head knowingly, her expression thoughtful. "That's Henry. He's unpredictable. Always has been. You never really know what he's thinking—or planning." Her gaze softened as she added, "I still remember what he said after the first flying incident."

Hannah Abbott, seated nearby, chimed in, her voice brimming with admiration. "That was the day he became the youngest Chaser in five centuries, wasn't it?"

Charlie's and Neville's heads snapped toward her in unison, their exclamations overlapping. "What?"

Susan smiled faintly. "Didn't I mention it before?"

Charlie blinked. "No! You didn't!"

Hannah leaned back, her tone taking on a storyteller's cadence. "Your brother—Henry Potter—is the best Chaser Hogwarts, and Ravenclaw, has ever seen."

Neville's eyes widened. "Really?"

Susan nodded, her voice quiet but firm. "Yeah. Just like his personality—brutal, ruthless, unyielding, unforgiving. And let me tell you, he's a hell of a flyer." Her eyes misted slightly, lost in thought. "He doesn't just play Quidditch;Everyone calls him as 'Rouge-Raven' he dominates it. Every match feels like a storm, and he's the eye of it."

She paused, then added with a small, wistful smile, "He used to call violet as 'Bella', after that flying incident, He used to call Daphne as 'Quenee' and me 'Chubby Choo and sometimes sunshine.' well Daphne calls him 'Hades' as in the king of hell, always teasing, but somehow it felt protective, like he'd fight the world if it tried to hurt us."

Hannah nodded. "Should I tell them what happened that day?"

Susan hesitated, her expression conflicted. "Fine," she murmured. "But keep it short."

Hannah explained what happened on that day to them, where Susan was not comfortable at recalling a memory of her and henry's: ok it happened all like this

Flashback

The sun hung bright over the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, a warm breeze rustling through the grass as Madam Hooch addressed the first-year students gathered for their flying lesson. Among them,Daphne Greengrass, her face a perfect mask of Slytherin indifference, stood with her broom in hand. Beside her,Susan Bones, her Hufflepuff companion, offered an encouraging smile.

Henry Potter, a quiet and calculating Ravenclaw, stood a little apart from the group. His piercing green eyes scanned the brooms as though assessing them for faults. He was the kind of boy who saw potential danger in everything and always prepared for the worst.

Madam Hooch's whistle blew. "Up!" she commanded, and the brooms rose into the air—most of them shakily. Henry's broom shot into his hand with effortless precision, while Daphne's responded with reluctant obedience. Susan's broom hovered uncertainly before wobbling into her grasp.

The lesson began smoothly, with students practicing small lifts and descents. But then, as often happened in such lessons, disaster struck.

A Gryffindor boy's broom spiraled out of control, clipping Daphne's broom as it passed. She let out a startled gasp, her balance lost as her broom jerked violently. The motion sent her careening into Susan, who was also unsteady in the air. Both girls screamed as they plummeted toward the ground.

The world seemed to freeze for a moment as everyone stared in horror.

Everyone, that is, except Henry.

Without hesitation, Henry Potter surged forward, his broom darting like a hawk. He reached Daphne first, looping his arm around her waist and pulling her to safety with a powerful lurch. The strain of the maneuver was evident, but Henry's focus never wavered.

Susan was still falling.

"Hey Quenee, hold on, we got to catch chubby Choo too!" Henry ordered Daphne, his voice firm as he steadied her on his broom. Then, with a sharp turn, he dived toward Susan. The speed was breath-taking, the wind whipping through his hair as his broom cut through the air like a bolt of lightning.

Moments before Susan hit the ground, Henry caught her wrist, pulling her onto his broom with a desperate jerk. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and the broom wobbled dangerously under the added weight.

But it wasn't over yet.

The broom, overburdened and pushed to its limits, shuddered violently. Henry gritted his teeth, his green eyes burning with determination as he guided the broom back toward the ground. It hit the grass with a hard thud, sending all three of them tumbling.

The world spun for a moment before Henry groaned and slumped unconscious on the grass.

When Henry woke, the sterile white of the hospital wing ceiling greeted him. His body ached, but his mind was sharp, piecing together the events that had led him here.

"You're awake," a soft voice said.

Henry turned his head to see Daphne Greengrass sitting beside his bed. Her cold mask had cracked slightly, revealing a hint of discomfort as though gratitude didn't come naturally to her. Beside her stoodSusan Bones, her warm smile tinged with concern.

Daphne: you called me Quenee ( she glared at him, but her eyes betrayed her glare, it shows concern)

Susan: and you called me chubby Choo (she mock glared at him, but her eyes betrayed her expression, as they were puffy, because she's been crying for him)

Daphne: it's good that you are already in hospital or otherwise I'll hex you to oblivion

They all chuckled at that.

Then the matron came and said that he needs rest and asked him how was he.

Before Henry could respond, the doors to the hospital wing opened, and three imposing figures entered:Cyrus Greengrass, his presence commanding yet approachable, his warm smile tinged with relief;Elizabeth Greengrass, her healer's instincts evident in the way her eyes scanned Henry for injuries; andAmelia Bones, her sharp gaze softening at the sight of her niece.

"Heir Potter," Cyrus began, his deep voice resonating in the room. "You have done a great service to my family today. For that, you have my gratitude. My house owes you a life debt"

Elizabeth stepped forward, her kind smile radiating warmth. "Not many would act so selflessly, especially at your age. You saved Daphne's life, and for that, I owe you more than words can express."

Amelia Bones nodded. "And mine as well. Susan means the world to me, and your quick thinking saved her. You have my respect, young man."

Henry eyes met Greengrass family and said: si quis est qui me debet domino meo et dominae / i'f there is anyone who owes here, it's me'. (here he sees in the direction of Daphne)

Both elder Greengrass's seen in his direction, but henry shrugged and said: your debt is recognized sir, I'll remind you when the time comes if needed, the same for you Madame bones. (he bowed his head at them, Hiswords were as much a promise as they were a calculated acknowledgment, and all three adults exchanged glances, clearly impressed.)

Henry Potter shifted to sit upright, ignoring the dull ache in his muscles as he swung his legs over the side of the hospital bed. His sharp green eyes scanned the room, and with a determined sigh, he began reaching for his clothes.

Madam Pomfrey, the ever-vigilant matron, intercepted him with a frown. "Mr. Potter, where do you think you're going?"

Henry's gaze met hers, steady and unyielding. His voice was calm, yet the steel beneath it was unmistakable. "Madam, I'm perfectly fine. I detest staying in the hospital wing. I don't like being touched, and I don't want to hurt anyone who tries to impose on me. So, let me leave in peace."

Pomfrey hesitated. She had seen many students in her time, but the intensity in Henry's eyes, the flicker of an ethereal fire, gave her pause. For a moment, she considered pressing the issue, but the boy's aura was too commanding, too resolute.

"If you're certain…" she relented, her voice quieter than usual.

"I am," Henry replied, already moving to dress.

He stepped toward the door and placed his hand on the brass doorknob when a voice called out behind him. "Mr. Potter."

Turning, he saw Amelia Bones approaching, flanked by Cyrus Greengrass and Elizabeth Greengrass. Amelia's expression was calm but probing, while the Greengrasses exuded warmth and quiet strength.

"Mr. Potter," Amelia began, her tone courteous yet firm, "I would like to extend an invitation for you to join my family for Yule dinner. If it's agreeable, I'll ensure your parents are informed."

For a fleeting moment, Henry's composed demeanour faltered. His hand tightened on the doorknob, and his eyes flickered with something unreadable—a shadow of pain. Cyrus and Elizabeth exchanged subtle glances, their keen eyes not missing the boy's reaction.

Henry straightened. "I'm honoured by your invitation, Madam Bones, but Yule is not a day I celebrate. It's a day I've…lost too much. I won't be available for anyone."

Amelia opened her mouth to respond, but Cyrus, ever the diplomat, gently interjected. "What about joining us at Greengrass Manor for New Year's, Heir Potter? Would that suit you better?"

Henry turned to meet Cyrus's gaze, a faint, genuine smile gracing his lips. "Of course, Lord Greengrass. I'll be there in the morning."

Cyrus inclined his head in satisfaction, while Elizabeth's kind smile deepened. Amelia, though still frowning, said nothing further as Henry nodded his farewell and exited the room.

End of flashback