The Farce Gone Wrong
That night, the Hogwarts dinner had all the makings of an ordinary meal, until Fred and George Weasley, as usual, decided to make their entrance on stage with a prank that was a little too ambitious. With a discreet wave of his wand, a cloud of colorful smoke erupted in the Great Hall, taking with it dozens of feathered rats that began to run in all directions, frightening the students and spreading panic.
The students, shocked at first, began to burst out laughing, thinking that it was one of those moments typical of the twins' unbridled humor. But this time, the farce went too far.
Harry, sitting at the Gryffindor table, swallows with difficulty as he sees the magnitude of the situation. The general hilarity quickly died down, replaced by anguish and confusion. Everything seemed perfectly under control, but Harry felt a burst of anger rise in him.
What happened next stunned everyone.
His eyes narrowed, his hands clenched on the table. A dull, almost imperceptible rumble rose from his throat. And before he could even realize the extent of his own anger, he stood up abruptly.
"FRED, GEORGE, STOP THIS CHARADE IMMEDIATELY!!"
His voice, at first low, rose rapidly in tone, resounding like a clap of thunder in the Great Hall. The room froze suddenly. Harry, already very pale, turned scarlet red. He was nothing more than a burst of pure rage. Her hair was a red hue, similar to her mother's. An intense warmth emanated from him, and an aura of anger seemed to envelop the whole room. He turned to the twins, his eyes shot with anger.
"Don't you understand? You are going too far! Stop now, or I swear I'll make you regret this prank. It's time for you to learn to measure your actions!"
The students around him watched in shocked silence. Even Fred and George, who were usually insensitive to reprimands, seemed petrified for a moment under the intensity of Harry's gaze.
McGonagall, who had been watching the scene with palpable concern, froze, as if she had seen a ghost. His eyes, usually hard and imposing, betrayed a glimmer of dread. She had never seen Harry in such a state. She turned her head to Lupin, who was already slowly getting up from his chair, his face pale.
"Remus... It's... It's... His temperament is..." McGonagall paused, the words slipping through his fingers.
Lupin, with a serious look, nodded slowly. "It's... just like his mother. Exactly." He barely murmured, as if he had seen an old acquaintance reappear.
The way Harry reacted, the warmth that emanated from him, the anger that was almost palpable in the air, all of this was an unmistakable reminder of Lily Potter's legendary temperament. She had often had such outbursts of anger, especially at James, when he crossed the line. The same tone of voice, the same intensity... It was as if Harry became an exact replica of his mother.
Snape finally stood up, his features livid and his jaw clenched. He gave McGonagall an almost disapproving look, but he too seemed disturbed. "I've never seen Harry so out of control. It's... It's scary."
Dumbledore watched the scene with a very peculiar eye, a slight sad smile appearing on his face, although his eyes betrayed a certain concern. "Lily's legacy, in all its glory," he whispered, barely audible. But even he seemed to have trouble finding the right words in the face of this explosion of rage.
The feathered rats had now all frozen, suspended in the air. The smoke slowly clears. The students, all on tiptoe, waited for the next events.
Harry, now icyly calm, stared at the twins again. He was no longer the middle child, a boy of thirteen; He was a force of nature. His eyes rested on them for a long time, the twins seemed to finally understand the scope of their mistake.
"I enjoy pranks. But when they cross the line and start to affect everyone around us, you have to know how to say stop," he said in a calm but not gentle voice. "You are responsible for what you do. And you will have consequences."
Fred and George remained silent, unable to answer, a palpable embarrassment enveloping them. Much like Hermione, who watched Harry with a mixture of respect and surprise, she had always believed that her friends were the only strong influences in Harry's life, but she had just learned a new side of his personality. A facet that resembled him deeply.
Once the tension had subsided, McGonagall straightened up. A little trembling, she took a deep breath, as if to regroup herself from what she had just experienced. "Harry... I understand that it affects you, but... I beg you to respect the discipline of the school."
Harry lowered his head for a moment, before nodding slowly. "I apologize, Professor McGonagall. I'm going to calm down. But it won't happen again."
As it descended from its grip, a breath of relief circulated through the room. But for the teachers, it was clear that this scene would remain engraved in their memories. Harry's anger, that moment of sheer intensity, was a reminder that the parents' legacies were passed on much more than we imagined.
Dinner resumed, but the atmosphere never really regained its former calm.
"Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vase in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured." — Mark Twain