The moment the insult left Malfoy's mouth, Neville saw red.
His face twisted with anger as he bellowed, "Apologize! Apologize right now, you bastard!"
Before anyone could react, he lunged, fists swinging, and tackled Goyle to the ground.
The two rolled in the dirt, throwing wild punches while Crabbe tried to pull Neville off, only to get caught in the scuffle himself.
Jerry, on the other hand, didn't waste words.
His wand flicked, and a Slytherin yelped as their legs snapped together like they were glued—Leg-Locking Curse.
Another flick, and a second Slytherin shrieked as their teeth elongated grotesquely, growing nearly five inches in an instant.
They clutched their jaw, eyes wide in horror as they realized they couldn't close their mouth anymore.
Ron, too blinded by rage to think properly, whipped out his wand and aimed straight at Malfoy.
"Take this, you filthy—"
But instead of hitting Malfoy, his wand backfired with a sickly green light.
The force sent Ron flying backward, where he crashed onto the ground with a groan.
He barely had time to process what had happened before he gagged and—"Blerrgh!"—a long, slimy slug splattered onto the ground.
His face paled in horror as another one followed. "Ughh! N-not again!"
By now, the commotion had drawn attention from the other students, and soon, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs from the next class had arrived.
They stood at the edges of the chaos, watching in fascination as Gryffindor and Slytherin tore into each other.
And then Ted arrived.
The crowd instinctively parted for him, as if sensing the shift in power.
He strolled forward, taking in the mess of brawling students, hexed Slytherins, and Ron still violently spewing slugs.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Really? Again? You lot can't go a week without breaking into a full-blown war?" He sighed, shaking his head.
"Has no one considered using words? You know, like civilized people?"
Before anyone could respond, Ron, still on the ground, lifted his pale face and pointed a trembling finger.
"It's Malfoy! He called Hermione a—you know! He called her—Uurghhh!"
Another slug splattered onto the dirt.
Ted's expression darkened.
His gaze flicked to Malfoy, who was attempting to hide behind Crabbe, sporting a fresh black eye from Harley's earlier punch.
"Malfoy," Ted said coldly. "You're going to pay for that insult. Shut up."
A jet of pink light shot from his wand and hit Malfoy square in the face.
Malfoy recoiled, blinking in confusion.
He opened his mouth to protest—but no sound came out.
He touched his lips.
Only, there were no lips.
His fingers slid over smooth, featureless skin where his mouth should have been.
Panic set in as he frantically patted his face, eyes widening in horror.
He tried to scream, but only a muffled whimper escaped his nose.
Pansy Parkinson turned, noticing Malfoy's frantic movements.
"What's your—" She stopped mid-sentence, eyes locking onto his mouthless face.
Then she screamed.
It was an earsplitting shriek, loud enough to make several nearby students wince and clutch their heads.
The Slytherins stumbled backward in horror, some nearly tripping over themselves in their haste to get away from their now-silenced leader.
And just like that, the fight was over.
Everyone was too busy staring at Malfoy in shock and amusement.
Of course, it didn't take long before a professor showed up.
Unfortunately for them, it was the worst possible one—Snape.
The Potions Master all but glided across the ground, his black robes billowing ominously behind him.
He came to a stop, piercing eyes sweeping over the students with a look of utter disdain.
"What," he said slowly, voice as dark as a stormcloud, "is the meaning of this?"
The Slytherins wasted no time in pointing at Malfoy, whose muffled whimpers were growing increasingly desperate.
Snape's expression barely flickered as he took in his prized student's rather alarming condition.
"Who did this?" he demanded, voice laced with quiet fury.
Ted raised a hand, completely unbothered. "That would be me, Professor. My own spell, actually."
Snape's jaw tightened. "You cast a spell to remove another student's mouth? On your own classmate?"
Ted shrugged. "He insulted Hermione. And, well, actions have consequences."
Snape's black eyes burned with irritation. "Ravenclaw. Twenty points, deducted."
Ted didn't even flinch. "Fair."
Snape exhaled sharply through his nose and lifted his wand. "Finite Incantatem."
Nothing happened.
Frowning, Snape tried again, this time using a stronger general counter-curse.
Still nothing.
This was a spell Ted had developed based on principles of psychic energy.
If you didn't understand its workings, trying to counter it with a simple general counter-curse was a fool's errand.
"What are you waiting for? Don't tell me you haven't developed a counter-curse?" Snape snapped, his usual sneer slipping into something resembling real concern.
He didn't know the mechanics of Ted's spell, but if there was no reversal method, this situation could become far more serious than a simple schoolyard hex.
Ted's lips curled into a small smirk as he replied, "Well, the spell isn't fully developed yet, so... no counter-curse at the moment."
Snape's expression darkened so fast it was almost comical.
Before he could explode, Ted quickly added, "But don't worry, Professor. The effect will wear off in three hours. Malfoy's mouth will grow back on its own. Consider it a fair punishment for insulting his classmates."
In truth, Ted had already devised a counter-curse.
He wasn't reckless enough to cast something irreversible on a fellow student—that was just asking for trouble.
The counter-curse was as simple as saying "Speak!" but, well... Malfoy needed a lesson.
Snape exhaled slowly, regaining some of his usual icy composure.
"Ah, yes. Attacking classmates with an untested spell... That's precisely the kind of foolish arrogance I'd expect from you, Mr. Epifani."
Malfoy, still unable to make a sound, paled further at the realization that he'd be like this for three whole hours.
The horror of enforced silence must have been too much for his fragile ego—his knees wobbled, and he looked about ready to faint.
Snape's cold glare swept over the assembled students.
"A bunch of reckless fools who think with their fists first," he sneered.
Then, with obvious satisfaction, he announced, "Gryffindor, forty points deducted. Ravenclaw, twenty points!"
Predictably, he made no mention of taking points from Slytherin, despite their clear involvement in the fight.
The Slytherins, bruised and hexed as they were, still managed to smirk smugly.
But Ted wasn't done.
His voice cut through the murmurs. "Professor, Malfoy called Hermione a Mudblood. Do you think that's acceptable?"
The effect was instantaneous.
Snape went rigid.
His already pale face lost even more color, his jaw tightening so much it looked painful.
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
The students instinctively backed away, sensing the storm brewing within him.
When Snape finally moved, it was with sharp, jerky precision.
"Slytherin, fifty points deducted!" he bit out.
Then, through clenched teeth, he added,
"You and Malfoy—detention. Two weeks. Forbidden Forest."
He practically spat the words before whirling around and storming off toward the castle, his robes billowing violently behind him like a thundercloud rolling over the horizon.
The tension in the air snapped like a broken string.
Students let out the breaths they hadn't realized they were holding.
The fight was officially over.
Thus ended the Second Inter-House Brawl.
Three houses had lost a chunk of their points, but the real winners?
Hufflepuff, who had stayed out of the mess entirely.
Harley had clocked Malfoy with a solid punch, earning herself the unofficial title of Gryffindor's Boxing Champion.
Neville, despite taking a few hits, was fine thanks to Ted's healing potion.
Jerry had managed to hex multiple Slytherins without taking a single hit in return.
Ted, of course, had earned himself two weeks of detention patrolling the Forbidden Forest.
And Snape?
He disappeared from sight for the next several days, likely recovering from the sheer audacity of having to deduct points from his own house.
Oh, and one more unfortunate soul—Ron.