Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 415 The Fear of Being Dominated
Like Harry, Draco Malfoy and Harry were both key figures in Quidditch as Seekers.

If the seeker has any problems, it can be fatal to the entire team.

Gryffindor has yet to have a backup Seeker.

Slytherin is slightly better; although it has a Seeker, its flying skills are far inferior to Malfoy's.

If he were to replace Malfoy, facing Harry would be like giving him a free kill.

Under these circumstances, Malfoy's days began to become particularly difficult.

He began to enjoy the same treatment as Harry.

On his way to class, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students would often deliberately trip him, and the hem of his black robes would be trampled and twisted several times.

Wherever he went, there were always some little lions and eagles with malicious eyes popping out.

Only when he saw that he was surrounded by people would he reluctantly move to the side, his face full of disappointment.

Flint also gave a strict order, instructing Malfoy to be accompanied wherever he went, and not to let the young lions and eagles have any chance to interfere with his playing time.

Slytherin students were quite united, and many eagerly took on the task.

So much so that Malfoy could never get to class on time—because he was always surrounded by a large, chattering crowd, like an impenetrable wall of people.

Even so, Malfoy was still both angry and helpless.

“I am Draco Malfoy, not Harry Potter. You don’t need to treat me like this!”

He tugged at his collar, which had been crumpled by his companions, his tone full of impatience.

"That won't do, Malfoy," a teammate immediately retorted, his face showing vigilance. "Graham was ambushed yesterday. You're our core player; you absolutely cannot get hurt!"

"I……"

Malfoy's lips pressed into a straight line; he was so angry he wanted to curse, but he managed to hold it in.

He knew his teammates were right, but he still felt frustrated.

It's just a game, why resort to these underhanded tactics?
What angered him even more was that someone had spread the rumor that the little lion and the little eagle might attack their flying broomsticks.

This terrified all the Quidditch players in Slytherin.

Those are seven Nimbus 2001s!
Although everyone believes that Slytherin's dungeons are the safest of the four houses, it's better to be safe than sorry.

Therefore, everyone became more concerned about the safety of the flying broomsticks than about their own safety.

When they weren't flying, they all carefully locked their brooms in their boxes.

Some students, who were under a lot of stress, would often rush back to the Slytherin dungeon during breaks to see if it was still there.

Finally, after being caught throwing excrement, Marcus Flint, whose black robe was stained with foul filth, could no longer bear it.

He led all the Quidditch players, along with the two Slytherin prefects, to Gemma Farley, the student council president.

"This is outrageous! This is absolutely outrageous!"

Flint roared furiously, waving his hands wildly, veins throbbing on his forehead:
"The Gryffindor and Ravenclaws have gone too far!"

Farley, you have to take care of this!

If this continues, we won't be able to get a proper rest before the competition!

The other players chimed in, all pointing out the faults of the young lions and eagles:

"Exactly! I was tripped several times by someone's leg when I was walking through the corridor yesterday, and my knees are all bruised!" A short player rolled up his trouser leg, revealing the bruised wounds.

"I found half a slug in my pumpkin juice while I was eating in the cafeteria! I still feel disgusted just thinking about it!" Another player covered his mouth, his face full of disgust.

"What's that? When I went to the bathroom, a disheveled female ghost suddenly appeared next to me, and I'm so scared that I can't get an erection now!"

"..."

Gemma stood there, arms crossed, her movements elegant and composed, as if the chaos before her had nothing to do with her.

Flint's monstrous accusations, along with the other players' grumbling complaints, struck her deep blue eyes, which resembled a frozen lake, only stirring up silent, cold ripples of contempt.

Her heart was completely unmoved; she even felt a slight urge to laugh, a mocking smile deepening at the corners of her lips.

Seeing Gemma's actions, the Quidditch players in the common room gradually realized that something was wrong.

They looked at each other, initially filled with righteous indignation, and eventually stopped.

"Tell me, why don't you continue?"

Gemma's gaze swept over the group of Quidditch players one by one, slowly scanning each of them with an almost approving look.

Her gaze lingered for a moment as it passed over Draco Malfoy.

The moment his eyes met Gemma's, Malfoy immediately lowered his head.

Gemma chuckled softly, then finally looked at Flint:

"Wonderful—absolutely wonderful!"

Gemma's voice trailed off with a lazy, drawn-out tone, as if she were commenting on a clumsy farce:
"Should I invite Headmaster Snape over as well, so he can hear your accusations against Gryffindor and Ravenclaw?"
The elite Slytherin players were driven to desperation, and they all came to me to complain.

Even our all-powerful captain is included; it's truly eye-opening and breathtaking!

The other team members were somewhat embarrassed by what Gemma said, but Flint was enraged.

"Farley! What kind of attitude is this!"

They're the ones provoking us! They're using dirty tricks!
This is an insult to the entire Slytherin family! As the student council president, you should use your authority to punish them!

"Control? Punishment? Authority?"

As if she had heard an extremely absurd joke, Gemma chuckled coldly a few times and finally lowered her arms.

She walked unhurriedly to Flint, her leather boots echoing crisply on the damp dungeon stone slabs, like a tapping on everyone's nerves.

"The prefect can't handle this anymore, so he came to me, right?"

Marcus Flint, tell me, which of these—taking a beating, crying out for help, or seeking refuge—is in line with our Slytherin way of doing things?

Despite her tall stature, Gemma Farley was still nearly a head shorter than Flint, who was also very tall.

Even so, she still made the burly Quidditch captain feel an invisible pressure.

What I saw was a group of so-called elites being chased and fleeing in panic.

Slytherin's honor is to plan carefully before acting, not to provoke trouble and then be unable to handle the consequences!

What you are doing is a complete defilement of it!

coward!"

Gemma Farley's merciless rebuke changed the expressions of all the players present.

Flint's face showed a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and resentment, and the other players shrank back slightly.

Only Malfoy's eyes flickered uncertainly.

Under Gemma's sharp insight, he vaguely felt that he had glimpsed some truths that he had never wanted to admit.

That's their current sorry state; they certainly look incredibly foolish.

"They broke the rules..."

Cassius Warrington tried to explain in a low voice, but his words were cut off by Gemma's cold glance.

"rule?"

Gemma's cold laugh sent a chill down Cassius Warrington's spine.
“Cassius, tell me, who was the first person to kick Potter in the hallway?”

Who is it that's always waiting for the other person to be alone so they can ambush them?

Who else smeared toad slime on Ravenclaw students' textbooks?

What, you can't stand being retaliated against in the same way now?

Gemma's gaze was sharp as a knife, sweeping over everyone present, with particular emphasis on Flint and the few who had led the mockery of Gryffindor:

"When you enjoy the pleasure of bullying others, have you ever thought that this is an invitation in itself?"

Invite the other party to retaliate in a more aggressive and outrageous way?
Slytherins act with strength, strategy, and purpose!
Using the rules? No problem.

But the prerequisite is that you have enough skill to keep things under control so that they don't backfire!
Look at yourselves!
Foolish indulgence has provoked a backlash, but there are no means to counter it!
When things get out of control, all you do is scream and yell like a helpless overgrown baby, expecting others to clean up the mess you've made?

Gemma whirled around, her navy blue robe tracing a sharp arc.

"Stop putting on that pitiful face in front of me!"

Slytherin doesn't need cowards who only know how to tattle!

What I need is a hunter who can control the situation, know when to attack and when to lie low, and ultimately achieve their goal!

At this moment, Gemma's powerful aura completely enveloped the entire space.

Every word she spoke was like an invisible whip, lashing at the pride of the academy that these little snakes took so seriously.

This made them realize that their failure was not only due to harassment from the other party, but also a complete failure of their own strategy.

Gemma coldly looked at the two prefects who had been coerced by Flint, her eyes filled with disdain for their behavior.

The anger and resentment quickly faded from the players' faces, leaving only the embarrassment of being seen through and a trace of fear of being intimidated.

Only Flint remained dissatisfied, and he once again waved his arms and roared:
“Farley! Don’t forget you’re a Slytherin! How can you speak up for them…”

"Marcus Flint!"

Gemma suddenly drew her wand and pressed it directly against Flint's chest:

"I don't need you to remind me—a mad dog like you, barking everywhere, does he even deserve to be called a Slytherin?"

When you were plotting how to deal with them, did you ever think about the academy's position?
You come to me crying and complaining after being retaliated against? You're a disgrace to the dean!

Flint's movements came to an abrupt halt when Gemma pointed her wand at him.

A bead of cold sweat quietly trickled down his forehead.

He suddenly remembered something.

Before Gemma was elected prefect, he thought she was just a pretty face with no substance, and thus spoke rudely to her.

As a result, Gemma directly challenged him.

Originally full of confidence, he was powerless to fight back and ended up trapped like a dumpling in a corner of the common room for the whole night.

Only when Gemma pointed her wand at him again did he recall the fear of being controlled by Gemma.

(End of this chapter)