Blood Sacrifice of Glory, Skull Offering for Harry

Under no circumstances could Harry allow senior students to use magic. If they did, he would be forced to defend himself using magic—a skill he had yet to fully master in this world. Resorting to the magic of Azeroth, however, seemed excessive. Even defensive spells carried immense destructive power.

The memory of Uncle Vernon's house being obliterated by an Earth Shield was still fresh in Harry's mind. And now, they were aboard a speeding train.

Magic in Azeroth was primarily honed for war, a stark contrast to the subtler spells of the wizarding world.

Thus, Harry decided that against these senior Slytherins, it was better to rely on his trusty warhammer. As long as he refrained from enchanting it with Fire Tongue or Windfury, it would remain within acceptable safety limits.

Yes, absolutely within safety limits—Harry was certain of that as he watched the arm of a senior Slytherin boy holding a wand twist unnaturally. The boy's face contorted in pain as he doubled over.

Exiting the battle early seemed like a wise choice for him.

"Flint!!"

A girl's scream pierced the air, but instead of quelling the fight, it seemed to heighten the fervor.

Despite Hagrid's earlier warnings about Slytherins being selfish, cunning, and despicable, Harry couldn't help but admire their unity at this moment. They were, at the very least, united in their hostility toward him.

With that in mind—Shield Toss!

This time, Harry wasn't aiming to break another arm. Retrieving his shield from his back, he hurled it toward the senior Slytherin girl who had raised her wand at him. He had no idea what spell she might cast—if it were dark magic, it could be disastrous.

With a loud clang, the girl crumpled to the floor.

"Get him! He's just one person! A first-year!!"

Shouts and cries echoed around the carriage, turning the scene into utter chaos. When curious onlookers from neighboring compartments came to investigate, the commotion only grew.

Though Harry had told Ron, Hermione, and Neville to stay out of the fight, none of them listened.

Ron and Neville immediately tackled Malfoy and his two lackeys. Hermione, true to her nature, initially tried to mediate—until a Slytherin first-year girl punched her square in the face. That was when Hermione decided to join the fray.

For young witches and wizards who had yet to master any substantial magic, their primary method of combat was, unsurprisingly, brute force.

When students from adjacent compartments arrived, they found the carriage packed with bodies, all tangled in an incomprehensible brawl.

"Ron?! What the bloody hell?!"

Fred and George Weasley stood in stunned disbelief, watching their usually reserved younger brother in the thick of a fight on his very first day of school.

Their shock quickly turned to pride.

Their little brother, taking on Slytherins on day one? That was the epitome of Gryffindor spirit!

"Let's join the fun!"

"Any friend of Gryffindor, unite!"

With loud cheers, Fred and George led a group of upper-year Gryffindors into the fray.

Meanwhile, Slytherins from other carriages joined the battle as well.

"For Gryffindor!"

The rallying cry followed Harry's war shout.

"For Slytherin!"

Not to be outdone, the opposing house roared back.

"For Harry Potter!!!"

Ah, that one belonged to the lunatics.

Words alone couldn't capture the sheer chaos of the carriage. From the magically expanded compartments to the narrow corridors of the train, students rolled and tumbled in a massive brawl.

In another world, this scene might have been described as an all-out melee.

While some fought, others watched from the sidelines, and a few brave souls tried to break up the chaos—like Tonks.

As a seventh-year Auror trainee, Tonks had accompanied the train to Hogwarts as a security measure after helping maintain order on the platform.

Logically, Tonks should have been the perfect person to stop this madness. Unfortunately, she couldn't even get close to the center of the fight. The sheer density of students wrestling on the ground left her stranded at the edges, shouting futilely while waving her wand.

Her hair changed colors so rapidly in her frustration that she resembled a traffic light, almost as if she were cheering for the fight instead of trying to stop it.

Eventually, Tonks slumped to the floor in despair, realizing she was bound to face reprimands from both her professors and superiors.

For a final year at Hogwarts, this was certainly an... explosive start.

--

The start-of-term feast was a significant event for the Hogwarts staff every year, especially for welcoming new students.

The house-elves in the kitchen prepared every dish with care, Filch meticulously cleaned the castle, and the professors added finishing touches to the decorations.

This year, however, was even more special—it marked the arrival of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the legend who had saved the wizarding world eleven years ago.

Everything was progressing smoothly, just as it had for decades—except in one particular corner of the Great Hall.

Unlike the calm and order elsewhere, this corner was... stormy.

"Never—never in all my years!"

"First-years leading a brawl on the train? Pulling upper-year students into the fray?!"

"Two entire houses involved, and the rest only uninvolved because they couldn't physically reach the fight!"

"This is—this is—utterly outrageous!" Professor McGonagall raged, struggling to find the words to describe the situation.

"Oh, calm yourself, Minerva. It's not as dire as it seems," Dumbledore replied with his usual composure.

Hearing the reports from the train seemed to faze him not in the slightest. In fact, he even tried to comfort the seething Deputy Headmistress.

It was no wonder Dumbledore remained unruffled. He had weathered far greater storms before.

"Calm down? How do you expect me to calm down?" Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed into a line so sharp it could cut steel. "You can't possibly imagine what I saw when I arrived!"

"That child—he was standing atop a pile of students sprawled on the floor, groaning in pain. In the entire compartment, he was the only one still standing!"

"And he was wearing chainmail! Chainmail stained with blood! Do you have any idea how I felt when I saw him? I nearly fainted on the spot!"

"He treats Hogwarts like... like what exactly? Why on earth was he dressed like that?!"

"Oh, I suppose young Harry might have indulged in some Muggle-inspired fantasies about Hogwarts," Dumbledore said with a light chuckle. "There's a certain childlike charm in that, wouldn't you agree, Minerva?"

Dumbledore looked like he had more to say, but under McGonagall's withering glare, he wisely chose to stay silent.

"I don't think we need to overreact, Professor McGonagall," Snape interjected, his tone uncharacteristically calm—especially considering his own house was one of the two involved in the brawl. He had been agitated earlier, but a certain piece of information had clearly changed his demeanor.

"First, this incident occurred on the train, and term hasn't officially started yet. Technically, it's still the holidays, so our authority to punish them is limited," Snape said slowly. "Second, it was merely a student brawl—hardly unusual between Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"Merely a student brawl," McGonagall echoed, staring at Snape as if he'd suddenly sprouted horns. "I never thought I'd hear those words coming from you, Professor Snape."

"I expected something more along the lines of 'expulsion.'"

"I happen to agree with Professor Dumbledore—spirited students are a good thing... even if some are a bit too spirited," Snape replied, his tone stiff but his words unmistakably his own.

McGonagall briefly considered whether Snape might be under an Imperius Curse. This year was shaping up to be an odd one, after all. But a glance at Dumbledore—still cheerfully munching on his sweets—convinced her otherwise.

The headmaster popped another candy into his mouth with relish.

McGonagall inhaled sharply. "Regardless, we need to ensure they understand the severity of their actions! Especially Harry Potter! Merlin help us, I dread to think what kind of trouble he'll get into once term starts!"

"Of course, I agree completely," Snape nodded. "However, Professor McGonagall, we must remember to prioritize education over punishment in our dealings with students."

"As for Harry Potter... well, he does exhibit remarkable leadership qualities, doesn't he?"

"...?"

McGonagall had heard enough.

After giving Snape a long, incredulous look, she stormed out, muttering words like "unbelievable," "madness," and "heavens above" under her breath.

"I believe Professor McGonagall would agree that I have a point," Snape remarked smoothly, meeting the gazes of Dumbledore and the other two heads of houses. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have preparations to attend to."

With a dramatic swirl of his black robes, Snape exited the hall, leaving Professors Sprout and Flitwick behind.

Though neither wanted to admit it, their own houses had students involved in the massive brawl.

"...Do you think Professor Snape has... fallen in love?" Flitwick asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Cough cough cough!" Sprout choked on her tea before bursting into laughter. "Really, Filius?"

"Oh, I fear my Potions Master hasn't reached that milestone just yet," Dumbledore said with a hearty laugh. "But I do hope... oh, how I hope—hahaha!"

The corner of the hall filled with cheerful laughter—a sharp contrast to the grim atmosphere awaiting the students.

The professors' jovial mood, of course, wasn't something they displayed to the students. After all, professionalism dictated that fighting—especially large-scale brawls—was completely unacceptable.

And at that age, most students were still terrified of their teachers.

The massive train brawl had been stopped by none other than Professor McGonagall herself, who had Apparated directly onto the scene after receiving a report from Tonks.

It was like Moses parting the Red Sea—except instead of water, McGonagall had parted a writhing pile of bodies.

Faced with the ferocious deputy headmistress—the Lioness of Gryffindor herself—even the rowdiest students had meekly retreated into corners.

After delivering a thorough scolding and promising punishments once term began, McGonagall had stormed off, leaving behind several compartments full of subdued students.

The scene inside? Anyone who opened the door would find rows of students bound tightly together, resembling prisoners in a transport cart.

Knowing what awaited them at Hogwarts, even the most boisterous students couldn't muster much cheer.

Punishments, detentions...

But kids are kids, and their despondence didn't last long. Soon enough, the compartments were buzzing with chatter, as students bragged about how many opponents they'd taken down or how they'd managed to pummel their least favorite rivals.

Especially in Harry's compartment. Despite still being bound by ropes conjured by McGonagall, the cheers for Harry grew louder and louder.

Even without seeing him, students shouted their admiration and praises in his direction.

"You really should've stayed out of it," Harry said, looking helplessly at Ron and his friends. "There were too many of them, and they were all older and bigger than you."

"Don't say that, Harry," Ron replied, his face swollen and his voice muffled. "We're the same age. If you were fighting, how could we just hide? I'm Ron Weasley!"

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