Percy couldn't help but shiver. In all his years at Hogwarts, he'd never seen Professor McGonagall so furious.
"Professor, it's... it's... Ron and Harry had a row—they got into a fight!" Percy stammered quickly.
Professor McGonagall's lips curled in a sneer. "Fine. Very fine indeed. This is the second time you've chosen fists over sense. I can't imagine what's rattling around in those heads of yours."
She was livid, her cheeks flushed with rage. Erwin stepped forward at once. "Professor McGonagall, please—calm down."
It wasn't that he wanted to play peacemaker. No, the professor—ever the stern Animagus—was truly seething this time. Erwin could even hear her breathing grow ragged.
After a few deep breaths, she reined in her temper. "If you lot were half as level-headed as Erwin, I'd have far fewer headaches."
The Gryffindors hung their heads in shame. Ron, still gripped by George, twisted and squirmed.
Then he bellowed, "What's so special about him anyway? That slimy Slytherin—he's just a Mudblood!"
The words landed like a curse. Silence blanketed the Great Hall.
Erwin's expression hardened, his eyes icing over.
In an instant, Slytherin wands whipped out. "Weasley, you're dead meat!"
Percy and the twins shoved Ron behind them, drawing their own wands. The other Slytherins scattered for cover, while students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff gaped at Ron in horror. They hadn't thought him capable of such venom.
Hermione turned to the Ravenclaw prefect beside her. "Mudblood? What does that mean?"
The prefect's face darkened. "It's the ugliest slur in our world—one made to degrade Muggle-borns. Utterly vile."
Hermione's disgust was plain as she stared at Ron. The Slytherins' wands began to hum with magic, poised for Erwin's word. A barrage of spells would rain down on Ron in seconds.
Ron's face drained of color. He'd finally grasped the magnitude of his blunder.
Percy and the twins looked grim, wands at the ready. Percy snapped, "Ron, how could you? Those words—how dare you!"
Regret twisted Ron's features, but he spat back, "What's wrong with the truth?"
Professor McGonagall's gaze was glacial. She jabbed a finger at him, her chest heaving. Words failed her in her fury.
Then a shadow streaked across the hall. Percy and the twins were hurled aside like rag dolls.
Ron's throat was suddenly in a vise grip.
"Snape—no!" Professor McGonagall cried.
It was indeed Snape, his sallow face twisted with killing intent. He fixed Ron with a stare that could shatter stone. "How dare you use that filth on Erwin, Weasley? How? Tell me!"
A wand slipped from his sleeve, tip glowing faintly.
Professor McGonagall's eyes widened in alarm—she saw the murder in him.
Erwin hadn't anticipated the outburst. He lunged forward, seizing Snape's arm. "Professor, stop! Not like this—not here!"
Snape turned to him. Erwin shook his head firmly.
With a snarl, Snape released his hold. Ron crumpled to the floor, scrambling back into a corner, pale and silent, his eyes wide with terror.
Up on the staff table, Professor Quirrell slipped his wand away, the faint green glow in his eyes fading. Behind him, Voldemort exhaled silently—he'd nearly exposed himself.
The other professors relaxed fractionally. If Snape had pressed on, Ron wouldn't have survived the hour.
Erwin faced his house. "Wands down—all of you."
The Slytherins exchanged confused looks. "Prefect, he can't get away with that slur!"
Erwin's voice sharpened. "I said down. The professor's here—he'll see justice done. Are we starting a brawl in the Great Hall? Prefects, escort everyone to class. First-years, Malfoy, take them to History of Magic. I expect you all seated and quiet when I arrive. No repeats."
Grumbling, the Slytherins sheathed their wands, shooting Ron venomous glares as they filed out.
Professor McGonagall turned to the rest. "Other houses—to your classes, now!"
Soon, the hall emptied, leaving only the professors, a quaking Ron in the corner, Percy, Erwin, Harry, and a handful of stragglers.
Harry hurried to Erwin's side. "Prefect, you okay?"
Erwin managed a wry smile. "I'm good, Harry. Off to class—catch you in Charms."
Harry nodded, his gaze flicking to Ron with raw disappointment before he left.
Percy approached Erwin. "Prefect, I'm so sorry for my brother's idiocy."
Erwin held up a hand. "An apology won't fix this, Percy—and it's beyond your control anyway. Mudblood... how quaint."
Percy's face fell; he knew tempers wouldn't cool easily.
Professor McGonagall drew a steadying breath. "Erwin, head to class. Trust me—I'll sort this."
Erwin inclined his head. "Of course, Professor. I know you'll make it right. After all, as a Mudblood, I've got precious few allies among the staff."
He'd never seen the term as a true insult. To him—an outsider to the wizarding world—it sounded more like a blunt gift, handed over by Ron himself.
Erwin eyed Ron coolly. "Mr. Weasley, this isn't over. I'll have my reckoning."
With that, he strode out. Snape huffed derisively, his glare raking over Ron and Percy. "The Weasleys... outstanding."
He swept his robes and followed Erwin.
Professor McGonagall fixed Ron with a steely look. "Mr. Weasley, my office—now. I'll summon your parents to Hogwarts."
Percy protested, "Professor, is that really—"
"Percy Weasley," she cut in icily, "you should be in class."
Percy sighed, resigned. He couldn't intervene. Glancing at his trembling brother, he hoped Ron hadn't torpedoed his future at Hogwarts.