Lily stood up from her seat, straight-backed, her face serious and her green eyes gleaming with a mix of determination and nerves as she met McGonagall's gaze.
Mary stared at her in astonishment. James and Sirius fell completely silent. Remus put the pieces together, why Lily had arrived with Ryan, and what that girl they'd mentioned had meant.
"I saw everything," said Lily, raising her voice so everyone could hear. "I was there from the very beginning. I saw Mulciber and Rosier corner a first-year Hufflepuff girl. I saw how they insulted her, how they broke the quill she was carrying. They pushed her. They called her a Mudblood several times. And if it hadn't been for Ryan's intervention, she would've been left crying and humiliated, and they'd have walked away without consequence."
The silence in the Great Hall still hadn't broken. It was as if every student was holding their breath.
"There you have it, Professor," Lily continued, not breaking eye contact with McGonagall. "And the Hufflepuff girl isn't here as a witness because we walked her back to her common room. She was scared. She didn't want to walk alone after what happened. But you can take her statement. Her name's Eliza, first year. She can confirm everything, and I trust you'll act justly."
McGonagall gave a small nod. Flitwick was already taking notes. Slughorn closed his eyes for a brief moment.
But Ryan wasn't finished.
"Now then…" he said, raising his voice a little so the entire hall could hear him. "The criminals claim that I attacked them without warning. Without provocation. That I took their wands just because I felt like it."
He let the words hang in the air for a few seconds before turning back toward the professors.
"And since I'm a fair person, I think they have every right to defend themselves. So go on, let them. Let them give their version of events."
He spun around dramatically, extending his arm toward the Slytherin table and pointing straight at them.
"Come on then, Arcturus Mulciber! Come on, Evan Rosier! Enlighten us all! Tell us how I supposedly attacked you out of nowhere and snatched your wands without the slightest provocation! We're all waiting to hear it!"
The gazes in the room shifted like a wave toward the Slytherin table. Hundreds of eyes. Curious. Angry. Judging. Some mocking, others disbelieving.
Mulciber's jaw clenched; he went rigid. Evan Rosier tried to maintain his composure, but a muscle in his face twitched.
They said nothing. Because they knew they'd messed up, and there was no way to defend themselves. No excuse came to mind under such a sudden public trial.
And because any word they uttered would only sink them deeper. Ryan smiled, not mockingly, but with restrained satisfaction. He had them right where he wanted them.
"There you have it, professors," he said, turning to McGonagall, Slughorn, Dumbledore, and the rest, his voice still carrying clearly through the hall. "Absolute silence. Their guilt clearer than water. But, of course…"
He paused, as if savoring the moment before the final blow.
"I'd like this to be completely verified."
Then he turned toward Professor Pomona Sprout, head of Hufflepuff.
"Professor Sprout, would you be so kind as to go to your common room and confirm with Eliza what's been said here? Her testimony is all that's missing to close this matter."
Sprout blinked, taken aback. It wasn't every day, or rather, it had never happened, that the Great Hall turned into a sort of courtroom.
She instinctively looked toward McGonagall, then to Slughorn, and finally to Dumbledore.
The Headmaster, hands folded on the table and wearing his usual serene expression, though with that familiar glint of curiosity in his eyes, finally spoke, his voice calm, deep, and touched with amusement at Ryan's initiative:
"I believe Mr. Ollivander is correct. If there is a victim involved, her testimony should indeed be heard before drawing any final conclusions. Professor Sprout, if you would be so kind."
Pomona nodded, still somewhat bewildered but, as always, obedient to Albus's judgment.
"Of course, Albus," she replied, rising swiftly, her robes swirling as she turned toward the doors. Every gaze followed her as though she were going to retrieve the key to some ancient mystery.
Ryan inclined his head slightly in gratitude, as though concluding his first formal argument.
As Professor Sprout disappeared through the Great Hall doors, the silence lingered above like a suspended charm. Every eye remained fixed on Ryan, as if waiting for the next page of a story that had suddenly become impossible to ignore.
McGonagall, stoic as ever, narrowed her eyes with a mix of irritation and reluctant respect. Flitwick muttered something under his breath. Slughorn looked as though he wished the floor would swallow him whole.
And Dumbledore… Dumbledore watched with his fingers interlaced beneath his chin, wearing an expression that blended astonishment with amusement, as if his opinion of young Ollivander were being rewritten in real time.
Then Ryan took a step forward, with the natural ease of someone already in his element.
"Now that the context has been clarified," he said, projecting his voice clearly, "I will admit, hand on heart… that I am guilty."
A murmur rippled through the tables. Ryan lifted a finger, dramatically.
"Guilty of taking the wand from Arcturus Mulciber… and from Evan Rosier," he declared in a solemn tone, though a faint smile tugged at his lips.
He turned toward them with a theatrical bow.
"It wasn't very difficult, if I'm honest. Their skills leave much to be desired. Although…" he glanced at the students, "I now understand why they need to bully an eleven-year-old girl. Because when it comes to someone their own size, they probably don't have the courage."
Laughter erupted from the Gryffindor table. Sirius slammed his hand on the table while James whistled. Remus simply smiled, not bothering to hide it. Mary and several fourth-year girls laughed openly.
Their classmates, Gideon, Fabian, Callum, and Jamie, clapped and whistled enthusiastically.
Emmeline looked at Ryan as if seeing a new side of him, not just because he had defeated Mulciber and Rosier, but because he was now standing before everyone, presenting the facts with effortless confidence, like an experienced barrister.
At the Slytherin table, however, the air grew heavier.
Mulciber clenched his fists on the table, knuckles white. Rosier stared down at his plate as if he wanted to hurl it at something.
Lucius Malfoy narrowed his eyes, his expression icy. Narcissa beside him frowned in disapproval, though she maintained her composure.
Bellatrix, further down the table, didn't bother hiding her irritation — her eyes were locked on Ryan, as though she were trying to curse him without a wand.
Andromeda, however… looked uncomfortable. She wasn't looking at Ryan or her housemates, her gaze was fixed on the tablecloth, tense, as if she wished she were somewhere else.
Ryan raised an eyebrow, letting the laughter fade slightly, but not enough to lose the tempo he had imposed on the room.
"To think," he said, hands clasped behind his back, voice calm and deliberate, "that these two represent Slytherin. Nobility. The ancient pure-blood houses. Heirs of respectable lineages, isn't that right?"
Heads began to turn. Toward the Slytherin table. Toward Lucius. Toward the Blacks. Toward the Lestranges.
"And this," Ryan continued, his voice ringing with sharp, eloquent rhythm, "is how the gentlemen of Hogwarts behave, the princes of the old families? Intimidating eleven-year-old girls, destroying their belongings, and calling them Mudbloods as if that somehow makes them strong."
He turned slowly toward the Slytherin table again. His smile was no longer mocking, it was razor-sharp, lethal in its irony.
"I can't decide whether to feel pity or secondhand embarrassment. Don't you have any sense of honor? Or did that word fall out of your mother's womb along with your decency?"
A loud reaction burst across the hall, a mix of gasps, stifled laughter, and scandalized exclamations. The air crackled with energy. The Great Hall had turned into a courtroom, an arena, a theater, a parliament, all at once.
Sirius let out a choking laugh. James threw his head back in disbelief. Even Remus muttered under his breath, "This guy's insane."
Lily, still sitting upright from her earlier testimony, felt a cold shiver run down her spine.
'So that's what he meant when he said: Let the show begin…' Lily thought, a mix of disbelief and growing respect flooding her mind.
Another side of Ryan she hadn't expected, a stage almost political, a speech carefully crafted to tear people apart with words.
"And he came up with all of this in less than an hour? He improvised?" she wondered, astonished.
Marlene was also watching Ryan with a smile, laughing at his remarks, yet equally surprised. She knew him. She had been with him. She had kissed those very lips that were now dismantling an entire social caste. And yet, she hadn't seen this coming.
Emmeline, calm as ever, her slender fingers interlaced on the tablecloth, observed him without blinking.
She had been one of the first to buy his enchanted quill and glasses. She had noticed his change from the very first day of the new term. But even she hadn't foreseen this.
Ryan hadn't just defeated Mulciber and Rosier, duelists known for being tough, feared even among Slytherins, now he was skinning them alive in public, doing it with the ease of someone reciting poetry.
When Ryan drew a breath, clearly ready to continue with another verbal strike, a trembling yet firm voice interrupted him from the staff table.
"That's quite enough, Mr. Ollivander."
A brief silence followed. Not hostile, but sharp.
"You've made your point… perfectly clear. Let's wait for Professor Sprout's return before continuing with this… presentation."
Slughorn wasn't looking at him with anger. It was more the expression of a man desperately trying to maintain control, a plea dressed as diplomacy. The Head of Slytherin looked as though he were holding his breath, painfully aware that his house was being dismantled, not by spells or explosions, but by logic, sarcasm, and truths spoken in front of the entire school.
Ryan turned toward him slowly.
"Of course, Professor," he said with a polite smile, stepping back.
Murmurs spread through the Great Hall like an underground current. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, even parts of Ravenclaw, whispered among themselves with wide eyes, rushed words, and charged glances. Snippets of conversation drifted through the air:
"Did you hear what he said about honor…?"
"I've never heard anything like that in all my years here!"
"He left them speechless… speechless!"
But at the Slytherin table, not a single whisper could be heard. Only tense faces, clenched jaws, and eyes locked on Ryan.
He remained calm, standing off to the side of the professors' table, composed, as if merely waiting his turn at a ceremony, hands clasped behind his back and a faint, serene smile on his face. As if nothing he had just done was extraordinary. As if he hadn't just humiliated two pure-blood Slytherins and turned the Great Hall into a public trial.
...
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