"I rather agree," said an icy voice. An older woman's voice.
The largest Slytherin let go of Harry's hand and jumped backwards as if burned.
"Professor Sprout!" cried one of the Hufflepuffs, sounding as glad as anyone Harry had ever heard in his life.
Into Harry's field of vision, as he turned, stalked a dumpy little woman with messily curled grey hair and clothes covered with dirt. She pointed an accusing finger at the Slytherins. "Explain yourselves," she said. "What are you doing with my Hufflepuffs and..." she looked at him. "My fine student, Harry Potter."
Uh oh. That's right, it was HER class I missed this morning.
"He threatened to kill us!" blurted one of the other Slytherins, the same one who'd called for a halt.
"What?" Harry said blankly. "I did not! If I was going to kill you I wouldn't make public threats first!"
A third Slytherin laughed helplessly and then stopped abruptly as the other boys shot him deadly glares.
Professor Sprout had adopted a rather sceptical expression. "What death threat would this be, exactly?"
"The Killing Curse! He pretended to use the Killing Curse on us!"
Professor Sprout turned to look at Harry. "Yes, quite a terrible threat from an eleven-year-old boy. Though still not something you should ever dream of pretending, Harry Potter."
"I don't even know the words to the Killing Curse," Harry said promptly. "And I didn't have my wand out at any time."
Now Professor Sprout was giving Harry a sceptical look. "I suppose this boy hit himself with two pies, then."
"He didn't use his wand!" blurted one of the young Hufflepuffs. "I don't know how he did it either, he just snapped his fingers and there was pie!"
"Really," said Professor Sprout after a pause. She drew her own wand. "I won't require it, since you do seem to be the victim here, but would you mind if I checked your wand to verify that?"
Harry took out his wand. "What do I -"
"Prior Incantato," said Sprout. She frowned. "That's odd, your wand doesn't seem to have been used at all."
Harry shrugged. "It hasn't, actually, I only got my wand and schoolbooks a few days ago."
Sprout nodded. "Then we have a clear case of accidental magic from a boy who felt threatened. And the rules plainly state that you are not to be held responsible. As for you..." she turned to the Slytherins. Her eyes dropped deliberately to Neville's books lying on the floor.
There was a long silence during which she looked at the five Slytherins.
"Three points from Slytherin, each," she said finally. "And six from him," pointing to the boy covered in pie. "Don't you ever meddle with my Hufflepuffs again, or my student Harry Potter either. Now go."
She didn't have to repeat herself; the Slytherins turned and walked away very quickly.
Neville went and started picking up his books. He seemed to be crying, but only a little. It might have been from delayed shock, or it might have been because the other boys were helping him.
"Thank you very much, Harry Potter," Professor Sprout said to him. "Seven points to Ravenclaw, one for each Hufflepuff you helped protect. And I won't say anything more."
Harry blinked. He'd been expecting something more along the lines of a lecture about keeping himself out of trouble, and a rather severe scolding for missing his very first class.
Maybe he should have gone to Hufflepuff. Sprout was cool.
"Scourgify," Sprout said to the mess of pie on the floor, which promptly vanished.
And she left, walking along the hall that led to the green study room.
"How did you do that?" hissed one of the Hufflepuff boys as soon as she was gone.
Harry smiled smugly. "I can make anything I want happen just by snapping my fingers."
The boy's eyes widened. "Really?"
"No," said Harry. "But when you're telling everyone this story be sure to share it with Hermione Granger in first-year Ravenclaw, she has an anecdote you might find amusing." He had absolutely no clue what was happening, but he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to add to his growing legend. "Oh, and what was all that about the Killing Curse?"
The boy gave him a strange look. "You really don't know?"
"If I did, I wouldn't be asking."
"The words to the Killing Curse are," the boy swallowed, and his voice dropped to a whisper, and he held his hands away from his sides as if to make it very clear that he wasn't holding a wand, "Avada Kedavra."
Well of course they are.
Harry put this on his growing list of things to never ever tell his Dad, Professor Michael Verres-Evans. It was bad enough talking about how you were the only person to survive the fearsome Killing Curse, without having to admit that the Killing Curse was "Abracadabra."
"I see," Harry said after a pause. "Well, that's the last time I ever say that before snapping my fingers." Though it had produced an effect that might be tactically useful.
"Why did you -"
"Raised by Muggles, Muggles think it's a joke and that it's funny. Seriously, that's what happened. Sorry, but can you remind me of your name?"
"I'm Ernie Macmillan," said the Hufflepuff. He held out his hand, and Harry shook it. "Honoured to meet you."
Harry executed a slight bow. "Pleased to meet you, skip the honoured thing."
Then the other boys crowded round him and there was a sudden flood of introductions.
When they were done, Harry swallowed. This was going to be very difficult. "Um... if everyone would excuse me... I have something to say to Neville -"
All eyes turned to Neville, who took a step back, his face looking apprehensive.
"I suppose," Neville said in a tiny voice, "you're going to say I should've been braver -"
"Oh, no, nothing like that!" Harry said hastily. "Nothing to do with that. It's just, um, something the Sorting Hat told me -"
Suddenly the other boys looked very interested, except for Neville, who was looking even more apprehensive.
There seemed to be something blocking Harry's throat. He knew he should just blurt it out, and it was like he'd swallowed a large brick that was just stuck in the way.
It was like Harry had to manually take control of his lips and produce each syllable individually, but he managed to make it happen. "I'm, sor, ry." He exhaled and took a deep breath. "For what I did, um, the other day. You... don't have to be gracious about it or anything, I'll understand if you just hate me. This isn't about me trying to look cool by apologising or your having to accept it. What I did was wrong."
There was a pause.
Neville clutched his books tighter to his chest. "Why did you do it?" he said in a thin, wavering voice. He blinked, as if trying to hold back tears. "Why does everyone do that to me, even the Boy-Who-Lived?"
Harry suddenly felt smaller than he ever had in his life. "I'm sorry," Harry said again, his voice now hoarsened. "It's just... you looked so scared, it was like a sign over your head saying 'victim', and I wanted to show you that things don't always turn out badly, that sometimes the monsters give you chocolate... I thought if I showed you that, you might realise there wasn't so much to be afraid of -"
"But there is," whispered Neville. "You saw it today, there is!"
"They wouldn't have done anything really bad in front of witnesses. Their main weapon is fear. That's why they target you, because they can see you're afraid. I wanted to make you less afraid... show you that the fear was worse than the thing itself... or that was what I told myself, but the Sorting Hat told me that I was lying to myself and that I really did it because it was fun. So that's why I'm apologising -"