He fell half on Goyle and half on top of Malfoy, knocking the breath out of the blond boy.
The two apes knocked out, she pulled Malfoy out of the dog-pile enough to twist him onto his front and yank one of his arms up behind him in a locking hold. He had to sit up painfully on his knees and arch his back to keep her from dislocating his arm when she straightened.
She had the three stooges laid out in less than ten seconds; not even long enough for any prefect to realise a fight was happening. Luck was on her side this time around, they were located in the space between the Slytherin table and the wall, effectively hiding the confrontation from everyone but those in the immediate area.
She loomed over Malfoy and put her knee on his lower back, warning him to stay put. She jerked his arm back sharply and pressed her knee in when he opened his mouth to undoubtedly insult her again. He groaned in pain.
"I warned you, Malfoy," she hissed. Heri was reminded of another confrontation she had before that oddly went the same way this one was going. Her anger was fading, returning her to a less colourful way of speaking. "Did you think I was kidding?"
"Psychotic bint!" the blond boy spat.
He grappled for the wand in his pocket but Heri twisted his wrist as his free arm came up, making him drop it. It rolled off to the side, too far away to be of any more use. She shoved him down and flipped him onto his back with her foot. She ground that same foot into his upper thigh as punishment. He keened pitifully.
Really, were all the jumped-up tools trying to prove themselves against her going to follow the same script? If they were, she wasn't going to go through the trouble of treating them any differently from each other.
"I asked if you thought I was kidding," Heri mocked. "Not what your mother should have named you. Now, are you going to do as I've said or am I going to have to persuade you further?"
Malfoy shot glances at his fallen bodyguards, obviously calculating his chances. Heri lifted her foot from the boy's thigh place only to nail him in the side, forcing him to curl up in pain.
"It's very simple, Malfoy," said Heri. She crossed her arms and stared down at him coldly. "You can either hand over the trinket and salvage whatever's left of your pitiful dignity when we leave, or you can be a ruddy moron and I'll send you to the Hospital Wing with a thrashing so harsh, not even your own mother will recognise you afterwards."
Proving himself self-preserving enough for Slytherin, Malfoy surrendered Longbottom's bauble.
As Heri ushered Longbottom away, she shot a sharp look at the gawkers that had made no motion to help the three boys. Some looked upset, others looked gobsmacked. They jolted under her gaze.
"Get those morons to the Hospital Wing," Heri said. "With luck, they'll be right as rain by tomorrow."
Heri earned herself an enemy that day, but she also gained a fiercely loyal supporter. Considering how little she thought of any danger Malfoy might pose, Heri considered it a job well done and well compensated for.
Neville Longbottom was among the people that wondered how he got into Gryffindor, let alone Hogwarts. He wasn't like his dorm-mates, he didn't perform attention-drawing feats, and his spell-work was average at best. No one would ever write epic stories about Neville.
No one ever paid much attention to Neville in general unless it was to pick on him. Beyond Professor Sprout, rare was the person that had something kind to say to him or about him. Most of the time, they weren't even trying to be hurtful, they just didn't care enough to notice that they weren't exactly being kind. It was that way with the people of his House; they didn't purposefully mistreat him, but the casual disregard cut him just as deeply as if they had.
Neville had gone to Flying lesson expecting to humiliate himself in some horrendous way. His Gran had forbidden from touching a broom when he was younger for a reason, and he knew full well that his clumsiness wasn't going to miraculously disappear on the day he was learning to fly. If he didn't end up with some broken bone, it would be through divine intervention.
As if to set the stage for his public disgrace, Gryffindor was to learn with Slytherin that day. Just what he wanted, to make a prat of himself in front of snooty blood-purists like Malfoy and ilk. And if that wasn't bad enough, Hufflepuff was added to the class as well. When the crowd of Hufflepuffs arrived, laughing and cheery, with Sally-Anne Perks, Hannah Abbott, and Heri Potter, their three prettiest girls, giggling excitedly from within the pack, Neville knew any shame he suffered that day would follow him until his death.
His death nearly came sooner than anticipated when the shoddy school broom he was using starting flying away with him still on it. It was only by the grace of the powers that be that Heri Potter managed to haul him off the broom in time. He thought his face would melt off from the heat of his blush when he realised she had wrapped her arms completely around his middle during her rescue of him. Heri Potter had wrapped her arms around him! Neville reddened just at the thought.
Neville had thought he had dodged a curse when the lesson ended with him in one piece and not a laughing-stock, but it was not to be. Malfoy and his trolls ambushed Neville on his way to lunch and had taken the Remembrall his Gran had sent him just that morning. They made a game of tossing it to one another while Neville tried to catch in from out of the air.