Snape cast Harry a long, penetrating look before silently consenting to Dumbledore's suggestion.
Since no one raised objections, Dumbledore began, "It's not uncommon for disagreements to arise on the Hogwarts Express. I’ve heard Draco's side of the story, but I’d like to hear from you three about what happened."
"But... Malfoy was on the train the whole time! How did he...?" Ron's face flushed red, utterly dumbfounded by Draco’s tactic of reporting first.
With a smug grin, Draco pulled out a mirror from his pocket.
"A two-way mirror. Father gave it to me before school started," he said, shaking the mirror with an air of superiority. "You see, Weasley, some wizarding families just have it better. My father makes sure I have the very best—"
“Mr. Malfoy?” Professor McGonagall’s stern voice cut through his boast. “Please stick to the topic at hand.”
Draco hesitated but then raised his eyebrows in a mocking challenge directed at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
Harry, however, had spent the walk to the office carefully plotting a way to turn the tables on Malfoy.
He was already aware of Malfoy’s familial influence—his father was a Hogwarts governor, after all. That kind of leverage could easily jeopardize the position of three unprotected students. Yet, McGonagall had a reputation for fairness, and Harry decided to appeal to that.
He also knew she was the Head of Gryffindor, the house where both his parents had once belonged. Their legacy, as student leaders, suggested they’d been her pride and joy.
The other professors’ roles were also fairly clear. The stout witch with leaves on her robes was likely the Hufflepuff Head of House, while the greasy-haired man glaring at him had to be the Slytherin Head of House.
Harry wasn’t expecting much sympathy from Snape, but he was determined to win over the rest.
"Professor," Harry began, his voice steady.
"Go ahead, Harry," Dumbledore said, his twinkling eyes offering reassurance.
McGonagall also nodded encouragingly. Taking a deep breath, Harry continued, "I'm sorry, but on the train, we didn’t want to engage with Malfoy. It’s just that when he found out Hermione was from a Muggle family, he... called her a name.”
McGonagall’s expression darkened. “What name?”
Harry hesitated, feigning reluctance. Finally, he mumbled, “Mudblood, Professor. I didn’t know what it meant at first, but my aunt once told me about my mum crying at home during a holiday. Someone at school called her a... stinky little...”
"Is that true, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall demanded sharply.
The commanding tone of a teacher confronting a misbehaving student left Draco visibly cowed. He hung his head and muttered, “Yes.”
Harry felt some relief, but as his eyes darted to Snape, he caught the professor staring at him.
“Enough!” Snape’s voice was ice-cold.
Harry braced himself for an onslaught of bias in Malfoy’s favor. After all, Snape was Slytherin’s Head of House—it seemed only natural he would defend his student.
But instead, Snape turned to Draco with a steely gaze.
“Mr. Malfoy, is this what you consider pure-blood decorum? Perhaps your parents, Lucius and Narcissa, should be called in to see what kind of son they’ve raised—”
Snape’s words faltered briefly, but then he pressed on, his face a mask of indifference.
“Your house will lose twenty points after the Sorting Ceremony.”
Harry’s eyes widened in astonishment. He’d assumed Snape would be adversarial, but here he was, reprimanding Draco and docking points from his own house.
Cold on the outside, warm on the inside. Classic Slytherin, Harry mused.
Ron was equally dumbfounded, his jaw practically on the floor. He’d heard countless tales from his brothers about Snape’s favoritism toward Slytherin. Even Percy, the model student, had claimed Snape never deducted points from his house.
What was going on today?
McGonagall, though, looked entirely unsurprised. She fixed Draco with a severe glare.
“Since Professor Snape has dealt with your behavior, I won’t add further punishment,” she said firmly. “But understand this, Mr. Malfoy: such language is absolutely forbidden at Hogwarts.”
Draco stared at the floor, utterly deflated.
“Now, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall continued, turning to Harry, “standing up for a friend is commendable, but we don’t encourage the use of hexes on other students.”
Harry immediately understood the subtext: don’t get caught.
“Yes, Professor,” Harry replied earnestly. He bowed respectfully to the assembled professors. “We’re sorry for causing trouble on the first day.”
"Very well, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, a faint smile breaking her stern demeanor. “You may return to the Great Hall with your friends. The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin.”
Harry led the still-stunned Hermione and Ron out of the room, each of them bidding the professors goodbye as they left.
“What a polite child,” McGonagall said, folding her hands together. “He truly reminds me of Lily.”
“Indeed, Minerva,” Dumbledore agreed, nodding thoughtfully as he glanced at Snape’s unreadable expression. “Shall we proceed? The Sorting awaits.”
Back in the Great Hall, Harry and his friends were instantly surrounded by curious first-years.
“What happened? Are you all right?” Neville asked worriedly.
“We’re fine,” Ron assured, puffing out his chest. “The professors didn’t give us a hard time. Look, we’re back for the Sorting, aren’t we?”
He sounded completely carefree, despite having been terrified about expulsion only moments earlier.
“You think this is over, Weasley?” Draco sneered from behind them. “We’ve got a long year ahead.”
Ron bristled, but Hermione grabbed his arm.
“Don’t take the bait, Ron,” she warned. “He’s just trying to provoke you.”
“Right, you’re right.” With Hermione’s advice sinking in, Ron managed to restrain himself. For now.
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