The wind blades from the Sectumsempra spell were inches away. Augustus, calm and composed, raised his silver wand with one hand. Tiny points of starlight shimmered around the wand, visibly converging into a hexagram formation. The glowing silver hexagram shielded him effortlessly.
As the wind blades collided with the hexagram, the starry light flared brilliantly, completely absorbing the blades without causing even the slightest ripple.
"What is this?" Loki's expression shifted slightly. He hadn't expected Sectumsempra to be neutralized so easily. The destructive power of the spell, often compared to an Unforgivable Curse, had been countered effortlessly by some unknown charm.
The observing Prefects showed no visible reaction, as if they were long accustomed to Augustus's seemingly endless repertoire of mysterious spells. The sheer variety of these spells was staggering- far beyond what even the prestigious Julius family was thought to have in their archives. It was a revelation that defied the magical world's understanding of spellcraft.
"I concede defeat. As per our agreement, I will follow you from now on, Mr. Augustus. Please take care of me in the future." Loki's attitude was clear, showing no reluctance to keep his promise. Judging by his slightly pleased expression and the envious looks from those around him, it was evident who stood to gain more. Following someone as formidable as Augustus - armed with such powerful and enigmatic magic - was a decision bound to bring immense personal and familial benefits.
"I hope you honor your promise and work on correcting your flaws. If you ever use magic to harm others for amusement again, I won't hesitate to punish you," Augustus advised Loki with a nod.
With the duel concluded, the sixth-year Prefect in charge ensured Loki was appointed as this year's first-year Prefect.
The next morning, in the grand dining hall of Hogwarts, beneath the enchanted ceiling (currently depicting a gray, overcast sky), the long tables of the four Houses were laden with bowls of porridge, plates of pickled herring, piles of toast, eggs, and rashers of bacon.
Augustus had just started his porridge when a commotion broke out overhead. Hundreds of owls swooped into the hall, circling as they dropped letters and packages into the chatting crowd. A large, bulky package landed on Neville's head, while another oversized, dusty one splashed into Hermione's jug, showering milk and feathers everywhere.
Augustus glanced over at the Gryffindor table.
"Errol!" Ron shouted, pulling the soggy owl by its claws. The poor bird flopped onto the table, legs stiff in the air, still clutching a soaked red envelope in its beak.
"Oh no...." Ron gasped.
"He's alive," Hermione reassured him, gently poking Errol with her finger.
"No, not that!" Ron pointed at the red envelope. Harry thought it looked ordinary enough, but Ron and Neville seemed to think it might explode.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked.
"She - Mum sent me a Howler," Ron muttered miserably.
"You'd better open it, Ron," Neville whispered timidly. "It's worse if you don't. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it. It was... horrible."
"Ha! The Weasley family is something else - sending Howlers," Draco Malfoy jeered gleefully.
"Perhaps it's about that car ride yesterday. To be fair, I do bear some responsibility for it," Augustus said indifferently.
Harry, observing their nervous faces, turned his attention to the red envelope.
"What's a Howler?" he asked.
Ron, however, was entirely focused on the letter, whose corners were already beginning to smoke.
"Open it, quick," Neville urged. "You've only got a few seconds"
With trembling hands, Ron carefully extracted the envelope from Errol's beak and tore it open. Neville plugged his ears, and Harry immediately understood why.
At first, Harry thought something had exploded. A deafening voice filled the hall, shaking dust from the enchanted ceiling above.
"...STEALING A CAR! If you get expelled, I wouldn't be surprised one bit. Just imagine how your father and I felt when we realized the car was missing...!"
Mrs. Weasley's voice, magnified to an almost unbearable volume, reverberated through the hall, rattling plates and cutlery. The echoes off the stone walls were deafening. Everyone in the hall turned to see who had received the Howler. Ron, shrinking in his seat, was now just a red forehead peeking out.
"We got Dumbledore's letter last night! Your father was mortified—mortified! We've worked so hard to raise you, and this is how you repay us? You and Harry could have died..."
Harry cringed, hearing his name and trying to appear as though he wasn't listening.
"...Utterly disgraceful behavior! Your father is now under investigation at work - all because of you! If you step out of line again, we'll bring you straight back home!"
The shouting ceased, leaving Harry's ears ringing. The envelope in Ron's hands burst into flames and disintegrated into ashes. Both Harry and Ron sat stunned as though they had just been swept up in a tidal wave.
A few people laughed, and conversations slowly resumed.
"Well," Augustus mused, "the Weasley family's methods of discipline certainly seem problematic. That approach could cause considerable harm to Ron. It's far too harsh."
"Who knows? Maybe with Ron's thick skin, he doesn't care at all," Draco said, his words muffled as he chewed a meat pie.
"Draco, finish eating before you speak. That's basic dining etiquette. Honestly, where did you even learn table manners?" Lilian said disdainfully, eyeing Draco as though he were some barbaric troll.
Draco flushed crimson. He often lectured Crabbe and Goyle on table manners, yet today he had been chastised himself. To make matters worse, Goyle grinned sheepishly, exposing his two front teeth as he heard Lilian's comment.
"In any case, Harry and Ron have certainly made a name for themselves this time. Perhaps their stunt with the flying car was premeditated to boost the fame of the Boy Who Lived. Look—they succeeded. Nearly the entire school knows about the two stars who flew to Hogwarts by car," Draco said, attempting to change the subject - a skill he excelled at.
"You're wrong. There were three," Augustus said with a hint of amusement, watching as Draco fell into awkward silence.
Sometimes, an adventurous flying car plan wasn't such a bad idea after all.
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