Watching Harry and the others being crushed under rumors and ridicule,
Lewis felt… a slight trace of guilt.
After all, he had sensed Filch coming long ago—yet for the sake of entering the Forbidden Forest, he had chosen to let them take the fall.
Of course, that guilt only went so far.
Even without him, the original timeline would've played out the same way—they'd still have lost points. If anything, his presence had saved Hermione from being dragged in, reducing the loss by fifty points.
Still, Lewis decided to help them a little.
Partly because he disliked this kind of group bullying,
and partly because he wouldn't mind taking the opportunity to mess with Gryffindor.
So after breakfast, under everyone's gaze, he stood up and walked straight to the Gryffindor table.
He sat down beside Harry—
where, thanks to the isolation, there were two empty rows around them.
Then, raising his voice deliberately—almost as if he had cast Sonorus—he spoke loudly:
"Don't listen to them, Harry, Ron, Neville. Ignore their insults."
"Anyone who ostracizes you over this is shallow."
"Any friendship that breaks over this is false."
"And shallow, false people aren't worth your sadness."
His words drew immediate glares from nearby Gryffindors—but he didn't care.
He continued, his tone sharp and clear:
"If this had happened to me—if I had cost Ravenclaw fifty points—my fellow students would criticize me, yes, but then work together with me to earn it back. Not kick me while I'm down."
The Ravenclaws present straightened proudly.
"Especially you, Potter. Because of your Quidditch performance, Gryffindor beat Slytherin this year and gained far more points than usual. That alone covers the fifty points lost."
"And yet your classmates only see your mistake—while forgetting your past achievements."
"Take the Weasley twins. They've been losing points since day one. Add it all up—it's well over fifty. And yet they're still popular."
He paused, sweeping his gaze across the hall.
Some Gryffindors lowered their heads in shame.
Fred and George, meanwhile, puffed out their chests proudly.
"When a teammate brings glory, you share the honor. When they fail, you shame them."
"When a good student slips, you condemn them. When a troublemaker behaves once, you call it redemption."
"Is this really the Gryffindor that stands for courage, loyalty, and conviction?"
"They're hypocrites. Worse than Slytherin—at least Slytherin stands united."
Even the Slytherins looked pleased at that—though slightly annoyed at the phrasing, they were clearly the "better example" in this comparison.
As for Gryffindor?
Some were furious. Some ashamed.
But no one stepped forward to argue.
This was Gryffindor—
and in truth, this pattern repeated throughout Harry's entire school life.
After Lewis finished speaking, the guilt weighing on Harry, Ron, and Neville eased considerably.
Hermione, too, felt less burdened.
And all of them looked at Lewis with deep gratitude.
This… is a real friend.
Because who else would stand up for them like this?
Yet neither they—nor anyone else present—realized something important:
Lewis's speech, while convincing, was not entirely true.
It was filled with rhetoric, reframing, and subtle manipulation.
Take his example about Ravenclaw.
If he lost points, Ravenclaw wouldn't turn on him—that part was true.
But not because Ravenclaw was more rational or united.
It was because Lewis's status in Ravenclaw was fundamentally different from Harry's in Gryffindor.
Harry was admired.
Lewis was feared.
Someone admired can still be judged—because they are seen as equals.
Someone feared?
Their authority shields them.
Through overwhelming academic ability, combat prowess, and Quidditch dominance, Lewis had already reached that level in Ravenclaw.
And why did he praise Ravenclaw so much?
Because he was using bullying to counter bullying.
Gryffindor could ostracize Harry because they were the majority.
So to break that dynamic—
Lewis needed to turn Gryffindor into the minority.
How?
By aligning the other three houses against them.
That was why he elevated Ravenclaw—to rally them.
Why he provoked Slytherin—because they already opposed Gryffindor.
And why he ignored Hufflepuff—because they would naturally follow the prevailing sentiment.
Step by step, he shifted the narrative until:
Three houses stood in judgment of Gryffindor.
And most importantly—
Throughout the entire speech, Lewis pushed his abilities to the limit.
His charm effects, combined with his psionic influence, amplified his words until they struck like thunder in every listener's mind.
Under that subtle mental pressure, people didn't just hear him—
They believed him.
The result?
The atmosphere shifted.
Many Gryffindors began backing down.
Those who had insulted Harry slipped away after breakfast.
Seamus awkwardly apologized, admitting he shouldn't have turned on them.
A few upper-years even bowed slightly in apology before hurrying off.
With a single speech, Lewis had dramatically improved their situation.
Not perfect—but far better than before.
As for Lewis himself—he was quite satisfied.
On one hand, he had successfully tested his psionic and enchantment abilities in real-world conditions.
If he truly intended to reshape the magical world—if he wanted to build floating cities—
Then this kind of political influence would be essential.
On the other hand, the experience deepened his understanding of the mind itself.
[You have successfully used psionic power and enchantment magic to subtly influence a large group without detection. Your understanding of mental power has deepened.]
[Psion Level +1]
[You have learned: Detect Thoughts, Mind Blast, Memory Manipulation, Telepathic Link]
Lewis skimmed through the new abilities and couldn't help but think—
His ability to manipulate minds was becoming… terrifying.
There was another unexpected effect as well.
After this incident, Ravenclaw's perception of him began to change.
Until now, his excellence had influenced others quietly.
But Ravenclaw's culture discouraged overt admiration—it wasn't "Ravenclaw-like" to follow someone.
That unspoken rule had created a paradox:
They valued freedom—yet enforced it.
"If freedom is commanded, is it still freedom?"
Lewis's speech shattered that contradiction.
It shifted the house's focus—from performative "freedom" to genuine pursuit of knowledge.
Students, especially first-years, realized something:
They weren't alone in admiring Lewis.
Admiration wasn't abnormal.
And so, more and more Ravenclaws began to follow his example—
studying harder, thinking deeper, improving themselves.
Instead of wasting time on trivial hobbies, they started striving forward.
In Ravenclaw—especially among first-years—
Lewis had become an uncrowned king.
Aside from Cirila, the Quidditch star, and Penelope, the prefect—
no one held more influence than him.
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