"Miss Granger, please consider it carefully. We can offer double the sponsorship..."

Madam Malkin, panting, rushed from the Ravenclaw stands to the Gryffindor stands, just in time to see a tall, middle-aged witch persuasively pitching to Hermione—her old rival, Madam March, the owner of Twilfitt and Tattings.

Indeed, this was what Madam Malkin had been worried about:

That two-faced Madam March would never miss an opportunity to poach customers!

Most of the shops in Diagon Alley that had cooperated with Gringotts in "non-cash payments" received tickets.

Compared to the other shops that were still observing, after seeing the girls' parade advertisements, Twilfitt and Tattings, Madam Malkin's mortal enemy, couldn't sit still. Under the guidance of her daughter, Freya, Madam March rushed to the edge of the Gryffindor stands almost immediately, proposing the idea of exclusively sponsoring the first-year team.

"March, get out of here! These kids won't like your clothes!"

Madam Malkin shouted angrily, looking as fierce as an angry hen.

"Tsk—you never seem to recognize your place, Malkin—whether it's your shop or you personally—"

Madam March narrowed her eyes and said elegantly in a low voice, with a sense of condescending superiority.

She deliberately added a nasal sound to the end of Madam Malkin's name, making it sound like mocking.

"Oh, my dear, you'll soon discover that people are different—"

Madam March turned her head, smiling warmly at Hermione, and said earnestly.

"If you want to become a future social elite, then you must cherish your feathers now."

"Although it may sound a bit harsh, most of the people who buy clothes at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions are from the lower levels of the magical society—like those people, most of them can only spend a relatively unsuccessful life in the sewers..."

She glanced elegantly at Madam Malkin, who raised her eyebrows and looked livid, and continued quickly.

"As the owner of the most prestigious wizarding robe shop in the British magical world, I have been kind enough not to delve into which criminals and vulgar, uncouth people buy clothes in other shops, and how cheap and rough the fabrics and stitches of those shops are. After all, we can barely be considered half-competitors, and their existence is also important."

"Just as there must be a distinction between poor students and excellent students in a class, the same is true in the clothing industry."

"Obviously, there is simply no comparison between Twilfitt and Tattings and that, um... Mocking Robes for All Occasions... Oh, heavens, how lacking in language would one have to be to come up with such an awful name. Of course, this may already be very difficult for some people—sixteen years, I've given other wizarding robe shops sixteen years, has any of them been able to surpass Twilfitt and Tattings? The answer is self-evident."

"Don't go too far, March—"

Madam Malkin trembled with anger, her cheeks flushed with a faint blush.

"At least ninety percent of Hogwarts students have bought their uniforms here, and..."

"But after they graduate from school, any wizards with some achievements and social status will never step into that cheap, simple, monotonous little workshop again. Oh, why is that? Oh, right! I remember!"

Madam March of Twilfitt and Tattings folded her arms across her chest, a mocking arc at the corner of her mouth.

"On one hand, purely handmade private customization, on the other hand, modifications of completely identical clothing..."

"Forget it, I don't want to waste too much time discussing these obvious truths—"

Madam March's gaze shifted from Madam Malkin and returned to the lucky girl with messy hair in front of her.

"Just as I said, Twilfitt and Tattings hopes to obtain exclusive sponsorship for your team's future matches—whatever Madam Malkin can offer, we can offer double—and, Miss Granger, you don't want your honor to be mixed with some improper labels, do you? Twilfitt and Tattings can help you with that."

She extended her hand, waiting to welcome yet another victory, just as she had snatched orders from Malkin countless times before.

Madam March's right hand froze in mid-air—Hermione ignored her.

"Thank you, Madam. The Quidditch robes you sent over are fantastic!"

Hermione flashed a bright smile, took Madam Malkin's hand proactively, and said sweetly.

"And this color is so beautiful that everyone is reluctant to wear them during practice. If you hadn't written a letter later saying that you would help repair them if they were damaged, we might have waited until today to wear them for the first time."

"Uh, is that so? I was a little worried about whether the size would be suitable..."

Madam Malkin was slightly stunned, a look of gratitude appearing on her face.

In fact, when Ailiana first approached her, she hadn't paid much attention to it.

Each robe was made by slightly modifying the sizes they had when they bought clothes in the store, and the so-called sponsorship afterward was just sending some underwear and socks, which was definitely far from the reward Madam March could pay.

"No, they all fit perfectly! I heard that Iliana and the others even wear them as pajamas sometimes..."

"That won't do. I'll help you take measurements later—I've collected all the Quidditch robes. If it's for resting, they have to be more loose and soft—so, you won't change sponsors, right..."

Madam Malkin looked nervously at the little witch with bright brown eyes, like an angel.

"Of course not, Madam," Hermione said, smiling happily.

On the other side, Madam March, who had been left aside by the two, quickly turned cold.

"It's such a pity, Miss Granger. I originally thought you were a smart person."

She said slowly, with a hint of anger suppressed in her arrogance.

"I didn't expect..."

"Oh, I thought so too, Madam—I mean, I didn't expect you to still be here."

Hermione turned her head in surprise, blinked her eyes, and said softly without reservation.

"Do you really think that money and power are omnipotent? Moreover, in my opinion, you don't seem to have that much of an advantage in this regard, especially after you said those words, there is no possibility of any cooperation between us—if you still care about decency and demeanor, you should leave here silently at this time... At least not many people will notice..."

As the top confidante of the "Gringotts Goblin Queen," she had no concept of the price offered by Madam March.

Since learning a little about the power of capital from Ailiana—for example, that ball's pocket money was enough to buy several Flourish and Blotts bookstores—Hermione's view of money had been brutally destroyed and rebuilt several times.

Compared to many people, Hermione had long realized the meaning of the saying "money is just a number."

However, in Madam March's eyes, this was more like arrogance based on ignorance.

If it weren't for the fact that this little witch had a certain say and that they were advertising for "Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions," Madam March would not have bothered to deal with such a second-year kid at all.

On the way over, she had learned some basic information about Hermione's family background from Freya.

A second-year little witch from the Muggle world with fairly good grades.

"Heh—are you telling me to leave? Heh, heh—"

Facing Hermione Granger's undisguised eviction order, Madam March sneered coldly, her anger reaching its peak.

"Now it seems that I was obviously wrong. Some things rotten to the bone and in the blood cannot be changed at all! From the beginning, I shouldn't have had any expectations for a stinky little Mudblood... Let's go, Freya. I believe Slytherin will be happy to accept an extremely generous sponsorship—"

Madam March said viciously, grabbing her daughter and preparing to turn around and leave in a huff.

"March, you've gone too far! Apologize!"

Before she could take a step, Madam Malkin angrily blocked Madam March's path. Hermione saw that Madam Malkin had even drawn her wand directly from her robes, pointing it at Madam March like a short sword, and screaming.

"Apologize! Don't force me to cast a spell on you! Or let me see if your magic has improved since graduation—"

Boom—

A huge explosion resounded throughout the stadium, drowning out the rest of Madam Malkin's words.

A beam of crimson light shot out from behind Madam Malkin, hitting Madam March in the chest, knocking her to the ground in a disheveled heap. Her carefully arranged hair came undone, making her look unspeakably embarrassed.

"So meddlesome. Did you think I couldn't cast the spell myself?"

Ailiana narrowed her eyes unhappily and glanced at Bill, who had raised his wand one step ahead of her.

Bill Weasley was excellent in every aspect: personality, ability, and character. The only thing Ailiana was a little dissatisfied with was that he was too excellent and responsible. Under the repeated exhortations of the spicy old radish, she had almost no chance to fight back this semester—most of the unblinking guys were solved by Bill in advance.

"No, no, I really couldn't help it for a moment!"

Seeing the light of the Chi Yin on Ailiana's left hand disappear, Bill slowly breathed a sigh of relief and quickly explained.

At the same time, all the surrounding little wizards stopped talking, looking at Bill, who had just cast the spell, and Madam March, who was lying on the ground groaning in pain, with surprise and uncertainty. Things happened too quickly, and most people didn't know what had happened.

"What's wrong?! Sorry, excuse me, I'm a prefect—who is causing trouble—"

Percy's voice, he squeezed out of the crowd with difficulty.

However, when he saw the protagonist of this "sudden brawl," the original vigor and momentum suddenly became shorter.

"Uh—Bill? What happened? I heard the sound of a spell exploding just now..."

The young Gryffindor prefect's gaze lingered on the wand in Bill's hand for a moment, and then glanced back and forth between the middle-aged witch who was curled up on the ground moaning softly, and the Slytherin girl next to her, somewhat at a loss.

However, before Bill could explain, the Slytherin upperclassman girl not far away suddenly screamed.

"How dare you hit my mother! You bastard! You will pay for this!"

Freya shouted angrily, her right hand quickly reaching into her robes, preparing to draw her wand to retaliate.

"Careful! Bill!"

Ailiana's eyes lit up, and she took a half step forward, blocking Bill.

This time she paid special attention to her angle, precisely blocking the casting angle of this B-level employee, and a thin layer of Protego shone at the same time—Ailiana had already thought about the counterattack after pulling the other party into the combat round.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Just then, three voices sounded from the surrounding area one after another.

Two of them came from behind Percy, and the other came from the sky.

Three spells hit Freya, who was about to attack Bill, at the same time. The wand that her finger had just touched instantly flew away, over the crowd, and landed under the seats behind, while her body was locked in place, stiff all over.

"Your reaction is a bit slow, big brother..."

Fred walked out of the crowd with his wand, saying with a hippie smile.

"Who knows, maybe this is just Bill's type. Fred, you're very decisive..."

Behind him, George shrugged his shoulders and teased with a bit of a smirk, selectively ignoring Percy's livid face.

Anyway, the first to take action was Bill, the eldest brother. Even if Percy wanted to complain, he would have to solve Bill first, but according to so many years of "Weasley family match-up win-loss table," it was undoubtedly a very difficult thing for Percy to win.

"Don't be silly. Bill wouldn't like this kind of crazy woman."

Ginny Weasley made a face and jumped down from the flying broom nimbly.

"Moreover, she's too weak. I guess Bill would prefer a girl who is stronger than him..."

The victory parade of the Hogwarts Moonlight team had ended. On the way back, she noticed the quarrel that took place next to Hermione, and Bill's resolute action—although she didn't know the specific reason for the fight, she only needed to be able to distinguish between enemies and allies. As for right and wrong, these could be discussed later...

Protecting companions is the first Hogwarts spirit that every freshman learns when they enroll.

It's over... it's all over...

Percy glanced at the excitement and eagerness in Ginny's eyes in despair, and sighed helplessly in his heart.

That once gentle and lovely sister will never return. There is one more little witch growing up in the Weasley family.

With the arrival of the Weasley family on the battlefield, Madam March, who finally fumbled for her wand, froze.

One, two, three, four... five, there are five redheads in total now.

Even if one of the boys seemed to be maintaining order, judging from their conversation, that young guy was obviously not enough to suppress the other students. The most critical thing was that she still didn't fully understand what had happened.

"Hoo... hoo... you... very good, very good..."

Madam March leaned on the railing and stood up panting, glaring fiercely at the few little wizards.

As an adult, she naturally knew what the best response was—when the Hogwarts professors arrived, none of these little bastards who took the initiative to attack would be able to escape. Even if they couldn't be expelled, they would be severely punished.

This is the most basic social rule, and she must vent her anger fiercely at that time!

A few minutes later, noticing the chaos here, several teachers successively rushed over from the faculty seats.

"...What happened?! What exactly is going on?!"

Snape strode ahead, scanning the surroundings with cold eyes—having heard that Slytherin students and parents were being besieged in the Gryffindor stands, as the head of Slytherin, his pace was even faster than Professor McGonagall.

Snape waved his wand to undo the petrification curse on Freya, narrowing his eyes dangerously.

"Openly attacking a guest invited to the school in public, a student's parent... Weasley, huh... You are too arrogant. I can't think of any reason that could excuse you..."

"Professor, Madam March insulted Hermione first."

At this moment, Ailiana directly interrupted Snape, saying stiffly.

"Many people heard it clearly. Madam March directly called Hermione a stinky little Mudblood—"

Stinky... little Mudblood?!

Snape paused for half a second, and his face instantly turned gloomy.

————

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Hooray!