"Professor! Rock didn't do anything wrong!"
Neville's face was pale as parchment. Surrounded by three professors and a crowd of curious young witches and wizards, he raised his voice as loud as he could.
"Mr. Longbottom, I need you to explain exactly what happened."
Professor McGonagall's stern gaze lingered on Rock for a moment before turning back to Neville. Her tone was crisp and precise.
Off to the side, Snape had gone quiet ever since Rock said those words. His expression had gone strangely blank, as though his mind were miles away.
Neville shot a worried look at Rock—who only offered him a gentle, reassuring smile.
McGonagall's approach was fair; between two involved parties, it was often the bystander whose account made everything clear.
Meanwhile, everyone seemed to be ignoring Draco Malfoy, who was hunched over with his hands over his mouth—his impossibly long front teeth now hanging all the way to his chin.
He'd tried to run to Snape earlier to report what happened, only to find a whole pack of students already gathered behind the professors. He'd immediately retreated back around the corner.
Neville, stumbling over his words as usual, still managed to recount the whole story truthfully—start to finish.
In the crowd, Ron elbowed Harry hard. "Did you hear that? He was brilliant!"
From Neville's version, Rock came out looking like a noble hero: Malfoy insulted the Scamander family, and Rock stepped in to teach him a lesson.
Among young wizards, that was practically the definition of cool.
Harry stared at Rock with a look that was half awe, half longing—wishing he could do the same.
Hermione, however, chewed her lip anxiously. "I just hope Professor McGonagall handles this gently… especially with Professor Snape here."
Snape's favoritism toward Slytherin was about as secret as a Howler in the Great Hall.
The murmuring grew louder. McGonagall pressed her lips together, her anger cooling as she looked at Rock again.
Yes, he'd broken school rules—but he'd been defending his family's honor.
"Mr. Malfoy, do you have anything to add?" Professor Flitwick asked, even before McGonagall could speak.
Draco froze, trembling at the sound of his name. His eyes darted immediately to Snape—his one possible lifeline.
But when he lifted his head, he only succeeded in flashing those enormous, dangling front teeth.
The room erupted into cheers—right as a camera clicked.
Theo raised his camera triumphantly, having captured Draco's finest moment of humiliation.
The instant McGonagall turned her head toward him, he vanished into the sea of Ravenclaw robes, where the other students immediately crowded forward, shielding him with suspicious enthusiasm.
McGonagall clearly wanted to find the photographer, but with the crowd surging and excitement brewing, she worried things might spiral out of control.
With a sigh, she raised her voice. "Prefects! Take everyone back to their dormitories!"
The prefects sprang into action. Penelope gave Rock a discreet thumbs-up before turning to herd the Ravenclaws.
"All right, Ravenclaw! Everyone back to the tower!"
Adam, the last to leave, gave Rock a small nod before following the group.
"Mr. Scamander, Mr. Longbottom, and Mr. Malfoy—please come with me." McGonagall's gaze swept over Rock and Neville, then landed on Draco with barely concealed distaste.
Neville immediately began shaking. He'd spoken up earlier on pure adrenaline—and because he didn't want Snape to pin everything on Rock. Now that time had passed, the fear was catching up.
"Oh no, Rock, we're really in for it…"
Rock steadied him with a hand. "It's fine, Neville. You only got involved because of me. Nothing bad will happen."
Professor Flitwick bounced over, looking sympathetic. "Oh my, you boys look like you could use something sweet?"
He pulled two Honeydukes chocolate squares from his pocket and handed them to Rock and Neville.
"Go on, eat up," he encouraged. "A bit of chocolate does wonders for shaky nerves."
Malfoy—still sticking close to Snape—was promptly ignored.
Rock couldn't help smiling. Classic Flitwick. If it wasn't his own students' fault, he'd stand by them without hesitation. And even when they did mess up, he still judged the situation with fairness.
After only a few bites of chocolate, Neville already looked much steadier.
Soon, McGonagall led them up to the eighth floor of the castle. At the end of the corridor sat a stone gargoyle dripping with carved water.
She stepped forward and announced the password.
"Jelly Slug!"
Rock nearly choked. Merlin's beard… Headmaster, that's certainly a choice.
The gargoyle sprang to life, stepping aside to reveal the spiraling staircase behind it.
As McGonagall approached the office door, it opened by itself.
Behind the grand desk sat Dumbledore, who nodded warmly. "Minerva, I'm already aware of what happened."
McGonagall glanced at a portrait on the wall, then simply nodded.
They all filed into the Headmaster's office.
"The situation is quite clear," Dumbledore said. "Even if Mr. Malfoy's language was less than pleasant, Mr. Scamander should not have used a harmful jinx on school grounds…"
Neville shuddered. Snape's tone had been downright accusatory.
"I understand, Severus," Dumbledore replied calmly. "But for now—let's hold off."
His bright blue eyes shifted to Malfoy. Upon seeing those ridiculous teeth drooping down to Draco's chest, he turned toward one of the portraits—an elegant silver-haired witch.
"Madam Derwent, could you please ask Madam Pomfrey to bring the appropriate counter-potion?"
The witch nodded and slipped out of her frame.
Rock lifted an eyebrow. The Tooth-Growing Hex has a simple Shrinking Charm as a counter-spell.
But it seemed no one—not Dumbledore, not even Snape—was in a particular hurry to fix Draco.
When Dumbledore turned his eyes toward Rock, Rock slowly reached inside his inner robe and pulled out his pocket watch, fastening it solemnly to the outside of his cloak.
On the watch's lid was an emblem of a great mirrored tree—roots below, branches above—with a many-faceted crystal embedded at the trunk's center, shining faintly.