"Leonard!" Harry shouted in relief.
They were saved. Leonard had arrived—and in an instant, he'd subdued the terrifying Three-Headed Dog.
Leonard was incredible.
George, safe at last, swallowed hard as he stared at the massive hound thrashing its claws just inches away. He turned to Leonard, who was calmly holding the Levitation Charm, and his face filled with awe. Then, remembering his brother, he rushed over to check Fred's injuries.
Leonard, however, paid no attention to Harry's astonished expression or Fred lying in pain. His narrowed eyes stayed fixed on the struggling beast as he mulled over the finer points of magic.
If he hadn't used spells and relied only on magical plants, subduing a Three-Headed Dog would have been a nightmare.
Unlike a troll, the beast wasn't just massive—it was tough-skinned, quick on its feet, and hard to hit. Even the long-range strikes of the Venomous Tentacula would land only rarely.
To bring it down fast, Leonard would have had to deploy his strongest plants—the Thornpiercer and the Venomous Tentacula together—to restrict its movements and finish it in one decisive blow.
Of course, he could also have unleashed an ancient spell, something like divine retribution itself. But unless he was in a wide enough space, he'd risk taking himself out along with the dog.
And yet, here he was—holding the mighty Three-Headed Dog aloft with nothing more than a simple Levitation Charm. Whether he chose to retreat or to kill it, the job was already half done.
It made him realize something: magic's strength wasn't in raw power. Its true advantage was in its wonder. The right spell, used at the right time, could achieve far more than brute force.
"Still," Leonard thought, recalling the devastating force of the ancient spells he knew, "there's nothing quite as satisfying as overwhelming power." The very thought of those sky-splitting effects left him refreshed.
Chasing powerful magic wasn't wrong—but it should never be the only answer.
Not that this was the time to dwell on it.
Still holding the Levitation Charm, Leonard turned to Harry. "What are you doing here?"
"We… we just wanted to see what Dumbledore was hiding," Harry admitted in a small voice. He thought Leonard might be angry, but it didn't really look like it.
"Really? Not just to prove a point to someone?" Leonard's tone was flat as he looked away.
Angry? Hardly. Leonard only got angry when someone close to him risked themselves recklessly. If a friend like Midgard snuck off into danger, then yes, he'd be furious.
But Harry Potter? Sorry, he didn't matter that much.
Sure, Harry showing up here early was a surprise, but Leonard wasn't obsessed with sticking to a plan.
If something wasn't part of his plans, then it wasn't. Plans weren't what he lived by.
More likely, Harry had simply overestimated his place in Leonard's mind.
Harry wasn't important. What mattered was Dumbledore's reaction.
Leonard didn't see Harry as a friend. At most, they had a bit of overlap. The so-called "friendship" was nothing but Harry's own assumption.
But Harry didn't think that way. To him, Leonard showing up to save him proved their friendship. And as a friend, Leonard was bound to be upset with him afterward.
That look of indifference? Clearly just sulking. Definitely.
Harry had already convinced himself Leonard was sulking. He rushed to speak, hoping to smooth things over. "Sorry, Leonard. I didn't think about safety when I came here..."
"I don't think I'm the one you should be apologizing to," Leonard cut in, casting him a glance.
Apologize to him? What for? He didn't care about Harry's safety.
"Huh? Then who should I say it to?" Harry asked, baffled.
"Why, obviously…"
Leonard's lips curled into a smirk as he glanced at the doorway.
He'd already heard the hurried footsteps.
"I think you should explain to the professor why you broke in here," Leonard said just as Professor McGonagall swept inside, her face thunderous.
Hermione wasn't with her—likely unable to keep up.
The moment McGonagall entered, her eyes landed on Leonard levitating the Three-Headed Dog, its massive body flailing helplessly in midair. For a moment, the sight was so surreal she wondered if she were dreaming.
Then her gaze fell on Fred Weasley, pale and collapsed on the ground, and the burst of fury she'd been about to unleash caught in her throat, replaced instead by alarm.
"Mr. William? You actually subdued the Three-Headed Dog?" Professor McGonagall forced down her anger. For a moment, surprise flickered in her eyes as she noticed Leonard's wand, but she quickly masked it. "Can you tell me what happened here?"
"My apologies, Professor. I only just arrived. I think the ones involved should explain it to you themselves." Leonard smiled faintly. "But could you lend me a hand? I may look calm, but holding this spell is taking quite a toll."
"My mistake—I wasn't thinking." McGonagall's tone softened a fraction, but the moment she turned, her eyes sharpened like blades and her face darkened to something truly fearsome.
"Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Potter, and you, Mr. Weasley, the one who still looks unhurt," she said through clenched teeth. "Take the injured Mr. Weasley to the hospital wing. I'll deal with the rest of you later."
Her heart ached. The first week of term was already chaotic—two foolish Slytherins had wasted her time earlier, and now her own house students had made a mess.
House points would have to be docked. Otherwise, these children would never learn what danger really meant.
McGonagall's terrifying expression and razor-sharp gaze drained the color from Neville and Harry's faces. George, however, seemed completely unfazed, as if he had expected this. Calmly, he motioned for Harry and Neville to help him carry Fred.
As the three of them hauled the injured boy away, McGonagall let out a long breath and turned to Leonard. "Mr. William, let it go."
Leonard didn't hesitate. He immediately withdrew his spell.
The Three-Headed Dog crashed to the ground and, in the very same instant, whipped around and lunged straight at him. Leonard remained outwardly composed, as though placing complete faith in McGonagall's abilities. In truth, his toes had already pressed into the floor, ready to spring forward and bolt past her the moment the beast got too close.
But McGonagall didn't let him down. With a sharp flick of her finger toward the dog, the scattered clumps of dried mud from the collapsed swamp rose into the air. Mid-flight, they twisted and reshaped into a massive serpent that coiled itself around the creature.
The moment it was bound, the serpent shifted again, hardening into a chain as thick as a man's arm.
Leonard's eyes lit up with admiration.
Such flawless Transfiguration—and cast wordlessly at that. No wonder she was the professor of Transfiguration. Just this one display was enough to outclass half the wizards in Knockturn Alley.