Hogwarts: Homecoming

Chapter 13: A Lesson

Even knowing there were two of them, and that the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team was nearby, when Amos's chilling gaze locked onto them, Prian and Phyloia couldn't help but shiver in unison. It was as if a fully grown Hungarian Horntail had opened its monstrous maw before them, ready to devour them whole.

"Prian..." Phyloia gripped her boyfriend's wrist tightly, her voice trembling. "Are you sure he's just a weird bookworm from Slytherin? Prian, why... why does his stare feel so terrifying? A bit like that crazed Hippogriff Professor Kettleburn showed us last week?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Phyloia! We're from Gryffindor—the house of courage!" Prian's heart completely agreed with Phyloia. The moment his eyes had met Blaine's, if Phyloia hadn't been hiding in his arms, he likely would have already turned and fled.

But his masculine pride demanded he act tough. "Hey, you rotten Blaine! Don't look at us like that! You brought this on yourself! Who told you to sneak into the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night and curse a... What... what are you doing?!"

WHOOSH!

Magic surged violently. The flames scattered across the mud, tree trunks, and rocks converged at the tip of Amos's dancing wand, forming a golden fireball of almost solid substance. It was like a sun, blazing with infinite light and heat, suddenly rising over a night-shrouded sea.

Terrifyingly high temperatures instantly evaporated the moisture from the cold, damp air and spread outwards. A pine tree near Amos burst into flames from the sheer heat. Dozens of feet away, the two young wizards were instantly drenched in sweat, as if they were standing on the edge of an erupting volcano.

"Don't... don't do this, Amos! We didn't mean to..." Fear brought two streams of tears to Phyloia's pretty face. She was barely aware of what she was saying, simply begging for mercy out of instinct.

Prian also raised his wand, but he knew with chilling certainty that his Shield Charm, which he wasn't even sure he could cast successfully, stood no chance against the violent, golden sun blazing at the tip of Amos's wand.

"Get on your broom! Fly!"

The moment the ashen-faced Amos swung his wand down, Prian finally found a shred of courage. With all his might, he threw Phyloia and her Nimbus 1700 backwards, letting out a heart-wrenching roar. "Go find Professor McGonagall! Don't look back!"

Prian would never know that it was this flicker of humanity, shining in the face of death, that saved him.

Seeing this, the rage in Amos's eyes wavered for an instant. The next second, his steady wrist dipped slightly. The fireball, which had been aimed at Prian's feet, ultimately slammed into the ground ten feet away from him.

BOOM!

Like a supernova reaching the end of its life in a brilliant flash, the fireball, filled with terrifying magical power, instantly turned the dry, cracked earth to molten lava upon impact.

The searing air, instantly displaced, created a deafening explosion, like a pressure cooker suddenly bursting open. Prian's Shield Charm didn't last a second before shattering. He didn't even have time to scream before the powerful shockwave sent him flying. With a loud CRACK, he broke a tree as thick as a wrist before tumbling a dozen more times on the ground and finally coming to a stop. His back was a mess of mangled flesh and blood.

Phyloia's injuries were much lighter. Prian had shielded her from a significant portion of the impact, but even so, the surging shockwave had thrown her over a dozen feet.

Standing behind a milky-white magical barrier, completely unharmed, Amos watched with a grim expression as Phyloia, bruised and battered, scrambled onto her broomstick. Without even bothering to put out the flames on her robes, she shot towards the castle without a backward glance. He did not attack again.

The surroundings were a complete wreck. Even without the support of his magic, the special properties of the magical fire continued to stubbornly consume the chaotic scene.

Crunch, crunch...

Amos walked across the scorched earth, step by step, until he stood over Prian. He looked down at the horrifying wounds on his back, his expression unmoved.

Prian wasn't dead, of course. Amos had no desire to take a remedial course at Azkaban. At least, not yet.

"I was going to let you experience the pain of a severed limb," Amos said, his face a mask. "To teach you to use your brain. But your final act of bravery earned you some dignity."

Amos took a bottle of Essence of Dittany and several other potions of various colors and dubious effects from the pouch at his side. He mixed them according to a specific ratio and poured the concoction onto Prian's back. With a flick of his wand, the flesh of the gaping wounds began to writhe and knit together, and new skin quickly grew over them.

The deathly pallor of Prian's face subsided somewhat, but several of his ribs were still bent at an unnatural angle. Amos didn't treat his broken bones. Madam Pomfrey could easily fix such minor injuries.

"I should also learn my lesson. To think that I believed it would be safe at school—"

SWISH! SWISH! SWISH!

Several sharp whistling sounds suddenly shot out from the depths of the forest. As they drew closer, they split apart, surrounding him from all directions. In the swirling mist, five dark figures gradually emerged.

Amos showed no surprise. The moment he saw Prian and Phyloia in their Gryffindor Quidditch robes, he had guessed they weren't alone.

However, when one short, stocky figure became clear, Amos couldn't help but twitch the corner of his mouth.

Charlie Weasley—Bill Weasley's younger brother, the second son of the Weasley family, and the genius Seeker for the Gryffindor team. And dangling from his broomstick was an Acromantula the size of a car, petrified by at least three separate spells.

Amos never knew there were Acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest. These Gryffindor cubs certainly knew how to have fun.

As a Seeker with sharp eyes, Charlie immediately spotted Prian at Blaine's feet. Possessing a maturity beyond his years, Charlie didn't immediately start questioning. He hovered high on his broom, carefully surveying the terrifying wreckage. When he saw the three-foot-deep molten crater still smoking in front of Amos, he sucked in a cold breath.

"Where's Phyloia, Blaine?" Charlie's voice was as weathered as his appearance.

"Perhaps she's mixed in with the dirt now," Amos said calmly. "You can look for yourselves. You might even find a few fingernails or something."

"You killed Phyloia?!" one of the Gryffindor players roared in disbelief. "And Prian! Where are his clothes? What did you do to him?!"

A chorus of angry shouts erupted. They all raised their wands, pointing them at Amos. Someone yelled about sending him to Azkaban.

Charlie Weasley truly possessed a leadership quality that most people lacked. Among this group, he was the youngest, but also the calmest. He didn't believe Amos could have actually killed Phyloia, unless he really wanted a life sentence in the wizarding prison. But Prian's serious injuries were undeniable. The top priority now was to ensure Prian's safety.

Charlie pulled out his wand and cut the ropes holding the Acromantula. He expertly maneuvered his broom in the air and said in a deep voice, "Give Prian back to us, Blaine. Otherwise, you're going to be in for a world of hurt."