Snape drew in a long breath, ignored Malfoy still sitting miserably on the floor, and swept out of the Headmaster's office, his dark robes flaring dramatically behind him.
Once Dumbledore announced the final decision, Rock gave a polite bow to the Headmaster and the two professors, then pulled Neville along as they left the office.
They had barely reached the bottom of the stairs when Madam Pomfrey came rushing toward them in a panic.
Seeing Rock and Neville heading out, she immediately assumed they were the ones needing treatment. She circled them, examining both from head to toe.
"Madam Pomfrey, the one who needs the counter-curse is still inside the Headmaster's office."
Rock had no choice but to point at the stone gargoyle behind them and explain.
"Oh! Good, good!"
Madam Pomfrey hurried to the gargoyle and spoke the password, vanishing up the spiral staircase.
Watching her step onto the moving stairs, Rock couldn't help thinking:
If you wanted to enter the Headmaster's office… could you just recite the entire Honeydukes candy catalog until you get it right?
Still chatting, he and Neville approached the corridor—where Snape was already waiting, staring straight at Rock.
Neville tugged on Rock's sleeve nervously, clearly asking whether they should slip away.
Rock waved him off and stepped forward.
"Professor Snape, is there something you need from me?"
Rock understood why Snape had acted the way he did—this was part of his survival strategy.
Lucius Malfoy had been one of Voldemort's most influential Death Eaters. Snape needed to maintain a certain… cordial façade with him.
It was just another transaction between Snape and Lucius.
But understanding was not the same as agreeing. This was Snape's path. He had no right to make choices on behalf of Rock or anyone else.
"Thursday evenings. My storeroom."
Snape delivered the line in his usual icy tone, then turned sharply and disappeared down the hallway.
"Merlin, he scared me to death… I thought Professor Snape was about to punish you," Neville exhaled, clutching his chest.
"Thanks, Neville."
Rock looked at him with genuine gratitude.
Neville hadn't done anything dramatic—but the fact that he spoke up at all… that alone earned Rock's respect.
They weren't all that close, and Neville was terrified—but he still stepped forward to contradict Malfoy.
"That said, the next time you hear something like that, you can just tell me later. I'll handle it myself."
Neville shook his head vigorously. "No, Rock. You're my friend. If someone talks badly about you and I pretend I didn't hear it—"
"That's not who I am!"
Rock froze for a second, then patted Neville on the shoulder.
Right.
A natural-born Gryffindor.
Trying to change his mindset was like trying to talk a Hungarian Horntail out of breathing fire.
---
As they entered the Ravenclaw common room, Rock immediately sensed something was… odd.
Climbing the final few steps, he saw the entire group of first-year Ravenclaws gathered in the center, listening to Theo speaking animatedly.
The moment they heard footsteps, everyone turned—and when they spotted Rock, they jumped to their feet.
"That was amazing, Rock!"
"How did you do it? Expelliarmus is a third-year spell, isn't it? How can you cast it already?"
Rock blinked, confused by the sudden commotion.
Theo squeezed through the crowd, waving everyone down. "Hold on! Let's hear what the professors decided first!"
At that, the room fell silent. Even a few upper-years looked up from their books.
"No points deducted from Ravenclaw," Rock said, glancing at Theo for confirmation, "but I'll need to go on patrol in the Forbidden Forest."
"Whew! That's a relief!"
"Uh—Scamander, you probably haven't eaten yet, right? Penelope asked me to bring this back for you."
Michael handed Rock a food box.
"Thanks."
Rock accepted it, still baffled.
Honestly, in Ravenclaw he was only really close to Theo and Adam. The common room normally had that quiet, individual-study atmosphere. If anyone knew everyone, it was Theo—not him.
He wasn't exactly the sociable type. So this sudden attention felt… odd.
"Professor Flitwick passed along a message," Adam said, mimicking Flitwick's tone. "Tell that child he did the right thing. Ravenclaw is proud of him."
Hearing this, the first-years surrounding him all lowered their heads, looking guilty.
Before hearing Flitwick's message, most of them had thought Rock was being reckless.
After all, everyone had Potions with Snape. Rock just humiliated a Slytherin—Malfoy, no less. Their classes were bound to become a nightmare.
But Rock felt warmth spread through his chest.
Flitwick had protected him—shielded him from being ostracized inside his own House.
It wasn't that Ravenclaws lacked courage; it was just that their nature was strategic, analytical—always calculating the optimal next move.
Even Rock himself acted the same way.
He knew getting into a fight would cause trouble. And still, he had evaluated the risks, considered the aftermath, and positioned himself in a way that minimized consequences.
Taking out the Scamander pocket watch hadn't just been to put Malfoy in his place.
It had been to ensure he stood on solid moral ground—to keep Professor McGonagall and Snape from forming the wrong impression of him.
"Don't worry," Rock said lightly. "I've got two detentions in the castle. Professor Snape will be supervising them."
That made the younger Ravenclaws look even more ashamed. Rock was already facing punishment, yet they had been worried only about whether their classes would be inconvenient.
"Oh? Has our House's shining hero returned?"
The Ravenclaw male prefect, Robert Hilliard, approached with a grin, clapping Rock on the shoulder.
Beside him, Penelope rolled her eyes. "Don't mind him—he always talks like that. He nearly picked a fight with the Slytherin prefect earlier. Because of you."
She sighed, but her expression was warm.
Ravenclaw may not shout its loyalty the way Gryffindor does—but when they choose to stand with someone, the support is quiet, firm, and deeply sincere.