But They Call Me the Lion King

"You'd better put that down," Harry said, his tone calm but firm.

Malfoy mimicked him mockingly, taunting, "Oh, look at Potter, so bossy. What am I supposed to be? One of your little minions?"

"Sure, you can order around the Gryffindors, Great Savior," he sneered, "but I'm a Slytherin."

Harry remained silent, his gaze cold and unyielding.

"Come on, Potter," Malfoy said, raising his broomstick. "How about a little contest? If—and that's a big if—you somehow beat me, then maybe I'll hand it over. Are you brave enough, or are you just a coward?"

Harry shook his head. "I won't ask a third time, Malfoy. Hand it back."

Malfoy took his hesitation as weakness. "Aw, scared, are you, Savior Potter? Guess you're not so brave after all."

"What should I do with this little toy of his?" Malfoy mused aloud. "Maybe I'll toss it up in a tree somewhere and watch that oaf Longbottom cry, clutching the tree trunk and bawling his eyes out—"

"Malfoy!" Harry's voice dropped, taking a step forward.

Malfoy instinctively stepped back, recalling the incident on the train. But glancing behind him, he saw more Slytherins around this time—not just Crabbe and Goyle, but several others too. Outnumbered, Potter couldn't take them all, right?

Emboldened, Malfoy regained his smug look. "What are you going to do, Potter? Throw a punch? Typical Gryffindor—brainless and brute. We're wizards, Potter. Noble wizards."

Harry sighed. "Malfoy, do you remember what you said on the train?"

Malfoy blinked, momentarily thrown off.

"You told me not to hang out with people like Ron here," Harry continued.

Ron's face shifted to confusion, gripping his fists, ready to fight at a word from Harry—until he caught Harry's gaze.

Wait a second...

What are you doing, Harry? I'm on your side!

Malfoy opened his mouth, ready to add his own insults, but Harry was faster.

"So, by 'refined' and 'noble,' you mean making fun of people? That's how you define class?"

The color drained from Malfoy's face, his sneer frozen in place.

Harry stepped closer.

"I have no interest in getting dragged into your childish, petty games," he said, his tone calm but cutting. "It's pathetic. You only ever pick on the weak."

In the world of the Witchers, Harry was young, only in his forties—a mere child among the Witchers' long lifespans. But he'd seen and heard enough of the ugly court battles of the human kingdoms to see through Malfoy's antics.

His words cut deep, his tone slicing away at Malfoy's pride.

"Still," Harry continued, voice soft but his amber eyes sharp, "they call me the Lion King in Gryffindor—even if it's mostly a joke." His voice grew firmer. "You should know what a pride leader does to those who threaten his pride."

Malfoy opened his mouth to reply, but once again, Harry was quicker.

"Axii."

A soft, silvery glow emanated from Harry's fingertips, hitting Malfoy squarely. His eyes glazed over, his face slack and uncomprehending.

"Hand it over," Harry commanded, motioning for the Remembrall.

In a trance, Malfoy obediently tossed it to Harry, who caught it with ease.

Pansy gasped, her voice shrill. "Potter, what did you do? You used the Imperius Curse on him! You—you actually used an Unforgivable Curse!"

Even Hermione gasped. "Harry, you can't use spells on classmates! That'll get points deducted for sure!"

The Gryffindors, who had been poised to cheer him on, turned their surprised eyes on Hermione. Who says something like that right now?

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't the Imperius Curse, just a simple charm—"

But Pansy wasn't listening. "Attack him! Knock him out so we can rescue Draco!"

A bolt of red light shot toward Harry, but he didn't move. It whizzed by, hitting a nearby broomstick.

Ron shouted, his pent-up anger finally erupting, "Get them! Let's show these Slytherins who's boss!"

The Gryffindors whipped out their wands, sending off the few spells they knew in a chaotic flurry.

Hermione screamed, "Stop it! All of you, stop fighting!"

"Someone's going to get hurt!"

Her cries went unheeded, her words lost in the scuffle. Harry's fists proved as effective as any spell; no Slytherin stayed standing for long after taking a hit from him.

Moments later, the ground was littered with Slytherins groaning in defeat.

Draco, finally snapping out of his stupor, stared around in horror. He took in the sight of his fallen housemates, then turned his glare on Harry. "Potter, what did you do?"

Ron seized the opportunity, landing a swift kick to Draco's backside. "Down you go too!"

Hermione winced. "Harry, no—Professor McGonagall is going to be furious when she hears about this."

Ron, still pinning Malfoy to the ground, snorted. "Hermione, now's not the time for rule-following."

"Exactly!" Seamus chimed in, his face flushed with excitement. "This is about defending our house's honor!"

The other Gryffindors cheered, riding the high of their first victory in a brawl.

The Slytherins, cowed, retreated to one corner of the field, Draco nursing his black eye and glaring at the Gryffindors.

Madam Hooch returned soon after.

The tense atmosphere and broken brooms scattered on the ground told her all she needed to know.

"Would someone like to explain to me what happened here?" she demanded, scanning the crowd.

Hermione hesitated.

Malfoy raised his hand, his face twisted in anger. "Professor, it was Potter! He rallied the Gryffindors, and they attacked us!"

"And he used the Imperius Curse on me!"

Madam Hooch's face darkened. Fighting was one thing, but the Imperius Curse?

"Mr. Potter?" she turned to Harry, her gaze stern.

Harry remained calm. "Malfoy's exaggerating, Professor. It was mostly me involved in the fight; the others didn't do much."

Apart from Harry's punches, the hardest hit was probably Ron's boot to Malfoy's backside. Draco's black eye had come from a collision with a broom handle.

"Never mind the fight," Madam Hooch cut in, her tone sharp. "What about the Imperius Curse, Potter?"

Harry replied, "Professor, can a first-year really tell the difference between the Confundus Charm and the Imperius Curse?"

Draco protested, "I didn't know what was going on! I was just doing what you said—"

Harry raised his hand again. "Want me to show you again, Malfoy? Just to clear things up for Professor Hooch?"

Draco's face went pale, his body trembling.

Madam Hooch's expression softened slightly. She was inclined to believe Harry. As one of the Unforgivable Curses, the Imperius Curse was beyond the reach of most first-years—and she knew the influence Harry's name had against the idea of him using dark magic.

"Alright, Mr. Potter, I believe you. But this incident is serious. Fighting and causing trouble while the professor is absent—I have no choice but to deduct twenty points from Gryffindor!"

Hermione paled, her face contorting with dismay. Twenty points were the result of weeks of hard work in class, not counting the deductions Snape regularly imposed.

"Professor, would you be willing to hear my side of the story?" Harry replied, undeterred.

Madam Hooch raised an eyebrow. "Alright, let's hear it."

"Malfoy found Neville's Remembrall and refused to give it back," Harry explained. "I'm not trying to excuse myself, but we weren't the only ones at fault."

Madam Hooch turned to Malfoy. "Is this true?"

Draco tried to wiggle his way out. "It was just a harmless joke! How was I supposed to know Potter can't take a joke?"

"A joke that others don't find funny isn't a joke, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said coolly, cutting him off.

Madam Hooch sighed. "Very well, ten points from Slytherin."

Malfoy clenched his fists, his face twisted in frustration.

"And enough with the troublemaking, all of you!" She turned back to the Gryffindors and Slytherins with a stern gaze. "Now, Mr. Potter, I'll be escorting you to Professor McGonagall's office."

"No!" Hermione cried, her face paling. "Professor, Harry's already been punished!"

"Yes, you've already deducted points!" Ron protested, his face also anxious.

Madam Hooch shook her head. "This is about the spell. Professor McGonagall needs to know—even if I'm

inclined to believe Potter, Unforgivable Curses are no small matter."

Harry turned to his friends, giving a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

Madam Hooch led him to McGonagall's office, sighing inwardly. Though she only taught a few classes each year, there was always something crazy happening in flying class. At this rate, it wouldn't surprise her if Dementors showed up next.

In the office, Professor McGonagall's face darkened as Madam Hooch recounted the events.

"Mr. Potter, I'd expected you to be one of my least troublesome students," she said, her tone filled with disappointment. "Instead, you're at the center of chaos!"

She clenched her fists, looking pained. "Twenty points from Gryffindor!"

Madam Hooch cut in, "McGonagall, I've already taken points off."

"Then another twenty!" McGonagall said, exasperated. "Starting a brawl and rallying Gryffindors against Slytherins—this is unheard of!"

Harry stayed silent, accepting the rebuke without protest.

"Now, about the spell," McGonagall continued, regaining her composure. "Mr. Potter, hand over your wand."

Harry complied, reaching into the Sorting Hat and drawing out his wand.