Chapter 104: The Inquisitorial Squad vs. The D.A.
The scene at the end of the carriage was a snapshot of the new Hogwarts. On one side, a unified bloc of Slytherin green, led by Draco Malfoy, who wore his prefect's badge and a new, silver 'I' pin on his robes with smug superiority. On the other, a ragged but determined alliance of students from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff—Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Seamus Finnigan, and Ernie Macmillan among them. The divide was stark.
Malfoy raised a hand, and his cronies—Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, and a few others—fell silent. "I have reason to suspect an unlawful assembly," Malfoy announced, his voice carrying a pompous, official tone. "By the authority granted to the Inquisitorial Squad by High Inquisitor Umbridge, we have the right to investigate any gathering we deem suspicious. Without consent."
A few sniggers rose from his squad. The power, newly granted, was clearly intoxicating.
The mixed group bristled. "We're just talking!" Ginny shot back, her hands on her hips. "Since when is talking on a train illegal?"
"It is when you're plotting," Malfoy sneered, his eyes scanning their faces with contempt. "A Ravenclaw, a bunch of Gryffindors, a Hufflepuff… all cozied up together? You're not fooling anyone. You're up to something. Probably spreading more of that," he jabbed a finger at a crumpled copy of The Quibbler peeking from Ernie's bag, "treasonous rubbish."
The accusation hung in the air. The very fact they were all together was the damning evidence. It was the D.A., exposed not by betrayal, but by simple, stupid bad luck.
Luna stepped forward, her wand held not aggressively, but ready. She stood before the others like a pale, serene guardian. "We were discussing Dirigible Plums," she said dreamily. "Their effect on Wrackspurt concentrations is quite fascinating this time of year."
Malfoy snorted. "Shut it, you loony. No one cares about your rubbish."
That did it. Seamus Finnigan, his temper always close to the surface, shoved his way to the front, his face red. "You take that back, Malfoy! You call her that again, you slimy little Death Eater-in-training, and you'll be picking your teeth up off the floor!"
Neville, his round face pale but set with a stubborn courage, stepped up beside Seamus, his wand shaking slightly as he pointed it vaguely at Crabbe and Goyle. "Y-you just stay back! I mean it!"
This display of defiance from Neville, of all people, sent the Inquisitorial Squad into fresh peals of mocking laughter.
"Longbottom's got a wand! Everyone duck!" Malfoy cackled.
"Did he finally find his spine? Must be a fake."
"Going to hex us with a Water-Making Charm, Neville?"
Malfoy's smirk was triumphant. They were outnumbered, but his side had authority and the threat of Umbridge. He opened his mouth to deliver another withering order.
A calm, familiar voice cut him off from behind.
"Having trouble finding a compartment, Malfoy? Or just practising for your future career as a Ministry lackey?"
Malfoy spun around, his smirk freezing. There, in the corridor behind him, stood the trio: Harry, Ron, and Hermione. And beside them, leaning casually against the wall, was Elian Throne.
A cold trickle of fear, instilled by his father's urgent warnings, ran down Malfoy's spine. He forced his face into a scowl. "Potter. Weasel. Mudblood. And the… transfer." He recovered some of his bluster. "Interfering with the Inquisitorial Squad is a detention offence. Or have the scars from your last sessions with the High Inquisitor faded already?"
His squad laughed on cue, the sound harsh in the cramped space.
Ron went for his wand, his ears turning maroon. "You little—"
Harry grabbed his arm. "Not here, Ron," he muttered, though his own green eyes were blazing. "We're almost to school."
Malfoy took this as a victory, a sign of weakness. He gave them all a final, contemptuous look and turned to leave. "Come on. We'll note this down. Let's see how they like explaining this little meeting to Professor Umbridge."
His followers began to shuffle back, their bullying momentum broken but their official threat lingering.
Then Elian spoke. His voice was quiet, but it sliced through the noise like a blade.
"Did I say you could leave?"
Everything stopped. The Inquisitorial Squad froze. The D.A. members stared, wide-eyed. Malfoy turned back slowly, his face a mask of affronted arrogance covering sheer panic.
"What?" he spat. "I warn you, Throne. We are acting under the High Inquisitor's authority. Laying a hand on us is an assault on the Ministry's decrees. You'll be in detention until you graduate."
But the tremor in his voice betrayed him. He was remembering the stories—whispers of Hogsmeade, of Christmas. He was looking at the boy who had made Fenrir Greyback disappear.
Elian didn't move from the wall. He simply looked at Malfoy, his expression unreadable. "You accused these people of an unlawful assembly. You insulted them. You invoked Umbridge's name to threaten them. And then you think you can just walk away because you're wearing a pin?"
He pushed himself off the wall and took a single, deliberate step forward. The Slytherins instinctively shuffled back, bumping into each other.
"You seem very fond of authority, Malfoy," Elian continued, his tone almost conversational. "But authority requires two things: power, and respect. You have a pin. I don't see much power. And you," his gaze swept over Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, "you certainly have no respect."
He stopped, now squarely between the two groups. "So, before you go running to your teacher, let's settle this here. As students. You accused them of being a society. Fine. Let's test it. You and me. A simple duel. No teachers, no decrees. Just wands. If you win, you can report whatever you like. If I win… you apologise to Miss Lovegood, and you and your 'Squad' walk to the front of the train and stay there. Quietly."
The silence was absolute. A duel? On the train? It was madness. It was against a hundred rules.
But it was also a challenge that stripped away Malfoy's borrowed authority and left only him, his wand, and his pride.
Malfoy's pale face flushed. He was trapped. To refuse was cowardice, witnessed by everyone. To accept… he thought of his father's warnings, of the empty eyes of the werewolves who had gone after this boy and never returned.
"I don't duel with Muggle-born freaks who use dirty tricks," Malfoy blustered, his voice too high.
Elian's smile was thin and cold. "Then I'll make it fair. I won't use any 'tricks'. Just my wand. And the first spell they teach you in first year." He drew his unique sandalwood wand, holding it loosely at his side. "Well? Or does the Inquisitorial Squad need Umbridge to hold your hand for everything?"
The gauntlet was down. In the tight corridor, with dozens of eyes upon him, Draco Malfoy had no choice at all.
(End of Chapter)
✨If you're enjoying this story, consider supporting me on Patreon —
Patreon.com/TofuChan
💕Patreon members get early access to chapters, bonus content, and voting power on future ideas.💕
Every bit of support helps me write more and faster. Thank you so much for reading! 🥰
Bonus Chapter For Every 100 Power Stones
Lets hit the goal of 200 Patreon Members now for 5 Extra Chapters 💕