"Oh, Pomona, come in..." the Headmaster with a neutral expression on his face waved a hand in an inviting gesture.
"Headmaster," Justin and I nodded and walked forward together with our Head, standing next to her.
"Now, when everyone has gathered," the Headmaster folded his hands on the desk, leaning forward slightly. "We can sort out what happened. Severus, be so kind..."
"My students, Headmaster, claim that they were attacked near the entrance to the tower with the Owlery," Professor Snape spoke in an even and insinuating tone. "Attacked and cruelly bewitched with dangerous spells, brought to an unconscious state, beaten in parting."
"Is that so, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore glanced over his glasses at the blond standing quietly next to comrades.
"Yes, Headmaster."
"And who could have done such a thing?"
"Granger together with Finch-Fletchley," Malfoy looked askance at us, and resentment and indignation sounded in his voice.
"Mr. Granger, Mr. Finch-Fletchley," the Headmaster turned to us. "Is this true?"
"Allow me," I took a step forward, and as soon as the Headmaster nodded, continued: "Mr. Finch-Fletchley showed me the way to the Owlery so that I could send a letter to relatives. We successfully coped with this task. No sooner had we left the tower and ended up in the corridor than we saw unconscious, battered students from Slytherin lying there."
As soon as I took a pause to catch my breath, dissatisfied Malfoy immediately expressed his opinion:
"Blatant lie."
"By no means," I shook my head. "We saw the guys. It is unknown what exactly happened, whether they have magical or physical injuries, and judging by wands in hands, some incident took place. I do not know how to provide first aid in such cases, just as I do not know diagnostic spells to find out what exactly is damaged. And you, Justin?"
"No. I don't know either."
"Without conspiring, we hurriedly went to the nearest place where at least theoretically one can meet a competent wizard or one who knows how to find this wizard. To the House common room. There we met the Head, Madam Sprout, and here we are."
The faces of the Slytherins did not hide indignation.
"Well," the Headmaster leaned back on the back of his bulky chair, looking more like an armchair, "it seems Hufflepuff students are telling the truth..."
"Just check their wands..." with suppressed indignation Malfoy blurted out, and clearly wanted to continue, but Professor Snape cut him off with just a gesture.
"Show restraint, Malfoy," said Snape dryly. "However..."
The professor looked at us, at our Head, and then at the Headmaster.
"Mr. Malfoy's proposal is not devoid of rationality," Snape turned in our direction and wanted to threateningly overcome the separating distance, but it didn't work out.
"Allow me to decide," Madam Sprout spoke deceptively affectionately, "whether the wands of my students will be subjected to a check or not."
"What, that's possible?" I didn't have to play surprise. Didn't have to play, but exaggerate, and very strongly; that yes. I seem to have considered the very possibility of such a thing subconsciously, but the confirmation just received plays an important role in a wizard's life.
"Hmm..." Malfoy snorted mockingly, and the rest of the Slytherins clearly perked up, looking at us condescendingly. Pure triumph was read in these glances.
No one started answering me, and therefore I spoke again:
"If this will help sort out the misunderstanding..." I took the wand out of the homemade holster on the forearm and offered it handle forward. "For checking."
"Indeed," Justin immediately bustled, taking out his and holding it out in my manner.
"It seems, Pomona," the Headmaster smiled slightly into his beard, "the children themselves are not against it."
"In that case, neither am I," nodded our Head, taking a step to the side and letting Professor Snape to us.
Snape. An amusing sentient. All his manners and behavior are literally saturated with "displeasure" from everything around, but he took the wand in his hands extremely respectfully. Not to me; to the wand. One immediately feels that this wizard is very partial to magic. Moving his hand over my wand, the professor took it more comfortably, and slowly, separating words, and most importantly, as I noticed, clearly pronouncing them in the manner of Latin and without any English accent, pronounced:
"Priori Incantatem."
Fog burst from the wand, forming into images of objects to which I applied training spells just yesterday. Snape looked clearly dissatisfied, while Slytherins were puzzled. Next came the turn of Justin's wand. Images were slightly more precise but also related to the curriculum. Snape returned our wands to us with a dissatisfied expression on his face.
"It seems, my dears," the Headmaster looked demonstratively pleased. "Mr. Granger and Mr. Finch-Fletchley turned out to be innocent."
"But..." Malfoy wanted to be indignant, but was again interrupted by Professor Snape's gesture.
"Possibly, strictly theoretically," the voice of the Potions Master was calm. "These students used magic without a wand."
"Severus, don't be silly," Madam Sprout waved it off. "You, a strong, experienced, and talented wizard. Can you use much without a wand?"
"Enough," he answered succinctly.
"I am flattered," I smiled modestly, "that, considering my life history, you suspect me of such mastery."
"Tch..." Snape turned to the smirking Headmaster.
"Possibly," with a share of modesty, I glanced at Dumbledore. "Worth checking wands of other guys too? Dispel doubts?"
Professor Snape clearly wanted to object.
"Excellent idea," the Headmaster didn't let Snape insert a word. "Thus we can learn the approximate appearance of the culprit of this terrible, blatant disgrace."
Reluctantly, Snape obeyed, and approaching his students, silently held out a hand. It seems he keeps his loafers in tight reins. At least the guys didn't even have a thought to contradict the professor, although there was a desire.
"Priori Incantatem," the spell sounded again, and again we saw haze from the wand.
The image of a person to whom the Stupefy spell was applied was palpably blurred, but even so one of the big guys, Malfoy's comrades, was recognized in it. The procedure repeated several times, and every attempt revealed various spells of attacking character.
I caught myself on the thought that the word "attacking," applied to those spells, caused a barely suppressed smirk. But however funny and ridiculous these spells were, their type still remains attacking and, in principle, the elf's memory agrees with this; far from always attacking magic must cause collateral destruction and grandiose special effects. Sometimes a light prick is enough to bring down a mountain. And they successfully cope with the goal set before spells.
Slytherins did not understand at all how such a thing is possible, and their faces sincerely expressed this misunderstanding. And me? And what, deceived kids, rejoicing. Although, what kids are they? Look, in one of the shards there are memories of how at this age, at thirteen years old, one already worked hard, and could even manage to acquire a family. Here, as they say, everything depends on the point of view and habitat.
"Here we are, my dears," smiling, the Headmaster got up from the chair, "and found out how it all was. But for such deception, punishment should be issued. Don't you think so, Severus?"
"I will determine the punishment for my students myself, with your permission," answered the professor dryly.
"No-no, Severus," Madam Sprout shook her head with a smile. "We all know how you 'punish' students of your House. And such an attitude toward my students is unacceptable. Minus ten points from each, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle, and Mr. Nott. And..."
"For such outstanding Slytherins," Snape looked at Madam Sprout. "I have special cauldrons. And a week of detentions with me."
"Good that we sorted everything out," Dumbledore folded his hands behind his back. "You may be free, time is late."
"Follow me!" Snape threw briefly, sharply heading to the exit, while his robe fluttered behind his back. Slytherins briskly hurried to leave the office following their Head.
"Just thunder," I said in an almost inaudible whisper when Malfoy came abreast with me.
"Good night, Headmaster," Madam Sprout nodded to Dumbledore with a smile, and we nodded too.
"And to you," the Headmaster nodded in return, heading somewhere deep into his office.
When we left this amusing place and headed along the corridors following our clearly cheerful Head, she, Madam Sprout, decided to talk about far more mundane issues.
"Mr. Granger, Hector. You don't mind if I use your first name?"
"Not at all."
"How do you like school, Hector? How are the guys? How are subjects?"