[Chapter Size: 1900 Words.]
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At lunch, Amanda told Draco and Harry what had happened.
"Sounds great. Those pure-blood heirs are finally learning to fight for their dignity. Still, Crabbe and Goyle are the same as ever…"
Draco glanced at Crabbe and Goyle nearby with disdain.
Goyle grinned foolishly at Draco before sinking his teeth into a crispy roasted chicken leg.
Amanda drew Quidditch Through the Ages out of her Sage's Ring.
Draco exclaimed, "Oh! Quidditch Through the Ages, one of my favorites. Unfortunately, I've already read it."
"I borrowed it from the library. Since you've read it, I'll give it to Harry," Amanda said.
Harry's eyes lit up as he took the book.
"I've always wished we could play Quidditch. I've read the copy Draco gave me so many times."
Not only Harry but Amanda also felt a strong desire for the wizarding sport.
Draco, however, looked indignant.
"Why aren't first-years allowed brooms? Why can't they join the Quidditch teams? It's so unfair. Second-years aren't that much older than us!"
Harry sighed, disappointed. "That's such a shame."
Amanda reassured them: "I heard first-years will start flying lessons soon."
"Really?" Draco and Harry asked in unison.
When Amanda nodded, Draco eagerly launched into more Quidditch talk with Harry.
"I've never even been on a broom," Harry admitted enviously.
Draco smirked. "I'm very good at Quidditch."
He then boasted at length about his flying skills, recounting in vivid detail how he once flew from Malfoy Manor to the outskirts of London and narrowly escaped a Muggle helicopter.
At first, Harry listened with interest, but after twenty minutes, his eyes began to glaze over.
Amanda stifled a yawn.
Still, it wasn't all bad.
Lately, Draco had taken to stroking his family's heirloom ring on his thumb in an overly thoughtful manner, and he loved imitating his father, trying to act like an adult.
It was easy to forget he was only eleven years old.
Only when Quidditch came up did Draco seem more like his peers.
…
That afternoon, History of Magic was taught by a ghost.
It was said that Professor Binns had been so old when he died that one day he simply forgot to bring his body to class.
His voice was dry and droning, stripping the wonder from history and turning it into something long-winded and dull.
Amanda propped her face on her hands to keep from falling asleep at her desk.
"This is even sleepier than Draco's flying stories," she muttered.
Fortunately, she had already read the entire History of Magic textbook beforehand. If she had relied only on these lectures, she would likely have earned a troll's grade.
"Are Draco and Harry even listening?"
She turned her head to see Harry's eyes unfocused and Draco's eyelids half-shut.
"..."
…
At breakfast the next morning, a great flock of owls, hundreds of them, swept into the hall through the main entrance, carrying letters and packages in their beaks.
Amanda was no longer surprised by the sight.
Bertha dropped a letter, snatched a piece of toast, and flew away, while Draco received a package stuffed with sweets from home.
He shared the treats with Harry and Amanda.
"I'm not a child anymore. I don't need so many sweets," he said, frowning in mock distress, though his smug tone betrayed his pride.
Before Amanda could respond, sudden cries of astonishment erupted around the hall.
"Look!"
"Over there, look! That red letter!"
Everyone pointed toward a particular owl, easy to spot among the flock. Clutched in its beak was a scarlet envelope, glowing ominously.
"A Howler! I can't believe someone got a Howler on the third day of school," Hannah Abbott gasped from the Hufflepuff table.
All eyes followed the owl, many secretly hoping it would swoop toward someone they disliked, though a few worried they themselves might be the unlucky target.
The owl flew straight toward the Slytherin table.
Students from other houses immediately booed and jeered.
The Weasley twins stood up, clapping and grinning broadly.
"Ah! Looks like we've got entertainment today."
"Let's see which Slytherin brat…"
The owl swooped lower, gliding over the table.
The group of students sitting at the far end looked panicked, ready to bolt. Those nearer the front sighed in relief, silently convincing themselves they were safe.
"Who's the lucky one—" the twins cheered.
The owl flew over nearly the entire length of the table. The boys at the end were pale, mentally racing through every misdeed of the past week.
Just as they began to resign themselves to fate, the owl suddenly veered.
A wave of tension swept the Slytherin table.
"Damn it, what is this crushing feeling!" someone muttered under their breath.
The owl circled, then dropped abruptly.
The scarlet envelope landed in front of Pansy Parkinson, who buried her face in her bowl.
She slowly lifted her head, horror-stricken, and reached shakily for the Howler—only to lose her nerve. With trembling hands, she let it fall onto her plate of buttered peas.
"I heard… if you don't open a Howler right away, the consequences are worse," Draco whispered.
Before he could finish, a deafening bang shook the table.
Pansy shrieked and fell off her bench. Students nearby screamed and scrambled away.
The section of table where the letter had landed was scorched black, the food and dishes reduced to ash and debris.
A deafening noise exploded across the Great Hall.
"Pansy, we are deeply ashamed of our indulgence and negligence in your upbringing all these years. If Draco had not told us, we would never have known you dared to commit so many disgraceful acts! Never have we raised a daughter so brazen, one who humiliates the entire Parkinson family! As your mother, I order you to apologize to Miss Merlin and Mr. Potter and promise never to behave so shamefully again! Otherwise, you will be cast out of the Parkinson family!"
The furious voice of Mrs. Parkinson echoed along the stone walls, lingering long after the Howler's explosion.
Perhaps infected by her anger, every student in the hall fell silent. Only after a long moment did whispers begin to spread.
"Did you hear what Pansy did?"
"I know, I know…"
A Ravenclaw hurried to repeat the gossip he had heard in recent days, while those around him leaned closer to listen.
"No wonder she tried to provoke the two future Dark Lords. That must have been her parents trying to curry favor."
A Gryffindor student behind him nodded.
The Ravenclaw whispered, "Amanda's talent is enormous. If Pansy doesn't apologize, Amanda will make the Parkinsons regret it in the future."
"As expected of a true Slytherin family," sighed a Hufflepuff. "They can read the situation so clearly, and even abandon their only daughter if it means protecting their reputation."
The Slytherin table was calmer than the others. Perhaps they had already anticipated this, or perhaps they had seen through Pansy's schemes long ago.
Blaise Zabini remarked casually, "Looks like Pansy's parents are truly furious. Good thing I never complained to them before."
Goyle, still grinning, only had eyes for the buttered toast across the table.
"Don't worry about it. Crabbe, pass me that toast."
Millicent yawned and turned to chat with the girls about the newest products from Madam Primpernelle's Beauty Shop.
Conversation at the Slytherin table flowed easily, no one spared Pansy a glance. She sat on the floor, head bowed, silent. The students who had fled from the earlier explosion avoided her completely, choosing the farthest possible seats.
After all, most had followed Pansy only because they feared the Parkinson name or hoped to befriend its heir.
But now, seeing she refused to apologize to Amanda and Harry, none believed she would ever humble herself. With Pansy, an apology was harder than reaching the heavens.
If even the Parkinson family was ready to abandon her, why should they waste energy on a reckless girl who could drag down their own honor?
Pansy had been forsaken by Slytherin.
She remained on the floor for several minutes, stunned by the Howler's contents and her mother's fury.
Finally, Daphne Greengrass, sitting nearby, approached and tried to pull her up.
"Pansy, are you all right…"
Pansy slapped her hand away angrily and bolted from the hall under the gaze of the entire school.
"Oh no, Pansy, wait for me!" Daphne called, hurrying after her.
The rest of the hall, however, was eerily calm.
Amanda sipped her black tea, saying nothing, her gaze cool.
"Pansy's the perfect little angel in front of her parents. They have no idea what she's really like," she said dryly.
Draco bit into a green apple. "I didn't expect the Parkinsons to handle it this way. They must consider this serious. For a family like that, disowning an heir is only possible if she threatens their reputation, or their future."
"Maybe Pansy stepped on every landmine at once," Harry muttered. "They should've known what she was like already, or this wouldn't have happened."
…
Pansy did not show up for Herbology that morning. Professor Sprout called her name several times, but no one answered.
On the third call, Blaise raised his hand.
"Professor, Pansy received… a Howler from home this morning."
He let the sentence trail off deliberately.
Professor Sprout nodded in understanding and marked her name.
For the first time, Draco looked uneasy.
"You don't think Pansy will do something extreme, do you? Her pride took a huge blow…" His voice dropped. "After all, I wrote that letter of complaint. If anything happens, I'll feel guilty."
His lips were unusually pale.
Amanda spoke evenly. "But what you said was true. The Parkinsons should thank you."
None of this surprised her.
As a typical Slytherin family, the Parkinsons were cunning and pragmatic. Otherwise, they never would have survived for generations among wizarding nobility.
And Amanda's growing reputation must already have reached beyond the school. These families could smell it clearly.
The winds of change were blowing through the wizarding world.
Almost every pure-blood student could see it: the Parkinsons had made their choice.
After that Howler, Amanda drew even more attention, though most glances were filled with panic and fear.
Harry shrugged. "Who cares? Didn't she try to strike at us first?"
His words seemed to cheer Draco slightly.
"True."
After class, Amanda returned to the library to borrow more books.
Draco and Harry, meanwhile, went off, reluctantly, to carry out their SO group's tasks.
Draco headed to the dungeons to find Professor Snape, while Harry decided to speak with some Hufflepuff upper-years, thinking them the friendliest to approach.
As Amanda walked through the corridors, she noticed Slytherins greeting her warmly, clearly more enthusiastic than before.
Students from the other three houses, however, shrank away. Whenever they saw her, they lowered their heads and hurried off, or turned on their heels to avoid her.
After all, who wanted to cross paths with the so-called Third Dark Lord?
That was what they had begun calling her in hushed whispers.
Grindelwald was the First, Voldemort the Second, and Amanda was the Third.
As for Harry, once the rumored candidate for that title, he had quickly been dismissed. He looked far too innocent.
After the Parkinsons' reaction, most students were convinced Amanda's identity was no ordinary one.
Rumors spread like wildfire. Some even whispered that she was the true Heir of Slytherin, an idea that, once spoken aloud, was readily believed by many.
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