"Disgraceful! Absolutely disgraceful!"
Furious roars echoed through Malfoy Manor.
A pale-skinned, elegantly dressed middle-aged man paced angrily in the lavish drawing room, his long blond hair whipping wildly behind him.
"My dear, please… don't get so worked up. It's bad for your health," said a beautiful woman in equally opulent attire, gently trying to calm him down.
"How could I not be angry?! That brat Abraxas! He actually betrayed the honor of our pure-blood lineage!"
The man pounded the floor with his cane. "Do you know what those bastards said to me at today's banquet? They mocked me, saying the Malfoy family has gotten used to being turncoats! Bastards! Utter humiliation!"
"I think Abraxas had no choice… He did what he had to do at the time. Besides, he wasn't the only one. Plenty of children from other families made the same decision, at least for now… Why should they mock only us?"
"Why?" Old Malfoy let out a bitter laugh. "Because he was the first among all the pure-blood children to surrender! Why didn't he just die at school? Doesn't he have any backbone at all?!"
Hearing this, Mrs. Malfoy immediately grew upset—after all, that was her precious son!
"How can you curse your own child like that?! Backbone? Do you think you have any more than he does?"
Seeing his wife explode in anger, old Malfoy became a little intimidated.
"I… No, I can't take this anymore—I have to teach him a lesson! Bring me parchment! I'm sending him a Howler!"
"You bastard! If you dare send my son a Howler, you can sleep in the sitting room tonight!"
"I… Fine! I'll just write him a regular letter and lecture him a bit, alright?! You—don't hit! Not a Howler, I swear!"
…
Hogwarts.
Inside the Headmaster's office.
Headmaster Dippet was busy by the fireplace.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
"Come in!" Headmaster Dippet said without even looking up.
Dumbledore pushed the door open and strode inside.
"Armando, I'd like to request a leave of absence. The Ministry—uh…"
Dumbledore paused, watching Dippet busily moving around. "Armando, what are you doing?"
"I'm taking out the trash, Albus."
Headmaster Dippet, speaking as he moved, grabbed a huge pile of letters and tossed them straight into the fireplace.
The flames roared upward violently, nearly setting his beard on fire.
"Ha! I knew there was Dark Magic in there somewhere! See—ignoring these people's letters is clearly the right choice!" Headmaster Dippet said cheerfully.
"Armando… are you burning letters?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes," Dippet replied plainly.
"Who are they from? That's an awful lot…" Dumbledore asked, puzzled.
Just then, another owl swooped in through the window.
The owl dropped a smoking letter in front of Headmaster Dippet, then bolted back out the window as if fleeing for its life.
Dippet reacted instantly, drawing his wand and flicking it lightly.
"How could—Szzzt!"
Before the Howler could even open, it was incinerated into ash.
"Of course it's from those pure-blood families! Those two kids you brought back have stirred up quite a storm at Hogwarts. How could those people not have complaints?" Headmaster Dippet rubbed his lower back and pulled a lounge chair closer to the fireplace. "Sit wherever you like, Albus."
Dumbledore dragged over a chair and sat beside him.
Possibly due to the sheer number of letters burned, the air in front of the fireplace had become uncomfortably warm.
Dumbledore calmly undid one of his collar buttons, then asked, "So… how do you plan to handle it?"
"Handle what?" Dippet asked.
"You know… the whole matter with the mutual aid society," Dumbledore said cautiously.
"Why would I handle that? Those two kids are doing a fine job, aren't they? Horace even used the opportunity to properly clean up Slytherin House. Not to be rude, Albus, but you're the one who brought them here personally—why would you want to clamp down on them now?" Dippet said, a little annoyed.
Dumbledore replied helplessly, "Armando, you know that's not what I meant."
That mutual aid society had been created with his encouragement, after all. Of course he wouldn't want to shut it down.
"Mmh, good. Glad to hear it. The club's doing just fine, no need to mess with it for no reason…" Headmaster Dippet noticed the fire was getting low again and casually tossed in another handful of letters.
In truth, Headmaster Dippet had originally assumed Wade's mutual aid society, known as S.M.A.S.H, was nothing more than childish play.
But reality had given him a pleasant surprise.
Even setting aside Wade's efforts to reform the bad habits of the pure-blood families, the fact that students' grades had generally improved thanks to the society already made Dippet feel very satisfied.
Not to mention, he'd long wanted to address those entrenched pure-blood traditions in Slytherin.
Since the mutual aid society had emerged, the entirety of Hogwarts had visibly improved in just a month. As headmaster, he had absolutely no reason to suppress such a beneficial organization.
"So how do you plan to deal with those pure-blood parents?" Dumbledore asked.
Headmaster Dippet lounged back comfortably in his chair, eyes half closed. "What else can I do? Just ignore them, of course. Their nonsense never belonged in this school to begin with! Think about it, Albus—why do you think their kids are dabbling in dark magic at such a young age?"
"But isn't it a bit rash to ignore them entirely? What if they go through the Ministry and try to put pressure on Hogwarts…"
Dippet glanced at Dumbledore. "Do you care about pressure from the Ministry?"
"We should at least show the Ministry some respect. If it becomes an official stance from them, we can't just ignore it," Dumbledore said.
Headmaster Dippet said slowly, "...Anyway, I don't have time to deal with all that. You're the Deputy Headmaster now. Handling Ministry-related nuisances is your job."
Dumbledore frowned. "Since when did I become the Deputy Headmaster?"
"Now. Yes... from this moment forward, you are the Deputy Headmaster, Albus. You're going to be Headmaster eventually anyway. Hahaha~ I'm already quite old, and there aren't many years left before I retire. You need to start learning how to manage Hogwarts now," Dippet said leisurely.
"Armando... I think you just don't want to do the work."
"Merlin, I've worked tirelessly for this school for so many years. Can't I take a break in my old age? Do you really expect a centenarian like me to keep dealing with these annoying parents and pompous children? Mhm… it's settled then. From now on, all external affairs related to Hogwarts will be your responsibility!"
"Ah... well, I won't refuse then."
"Excellent, young people should do more work... That way, those bothersome folks will only send letters to you."
"So that was your plan all along…"
…
In Potions class—
"I'm thinking of designing a symbol, then making a batch of badges with the symbol on them. Every member would get one. That way, if we ever need to call a meeting, we can notify everyone directly through the badge," Tom said while stirring his potion, speaking to Wade, who was preparing potion ingredients beside him.
Wade gave Tom a strange look. "You've already come up with the design? Don't tell me… is it a skull spitting out a snake?"
Tom frowned. "Your taste is awful. A skull spitting a snake? How did that even occur to you?"
Wade blinked. Voldemort disliking the Dark Mark? Well… that's certainly ironic.
"As long as it's not that, we're good. You handle the design. The club's under your direction now anyway."
"Mm… I'm thinking of keeping it simple. Maybe a Bauhinia flower symbol. I looked it up, its meaning is harmony and friendship—fits the ethos of our Mutual Aid Society perfectly."
"Excellent. That's much better looking than a skull spitting a snake," Wade said with a grin.
"Ugh… can you stop clinging to that dumb skull idea?" Tom grumbled.
"Well, those who know know~" Wade chuckled, then asked, "How are the recently joined pure-bloods doing in the society?"
"Not bad," Tom said. "You were right—environment really does change people. At first, they were uncomfortable, but once they started trying to fit in, they changed quite a bit."
"Just as expected… but I'd bet their parents aren't too happy about it," Wade said with a smirk.
Tom suddenly stopped stirring, as if something had just occurred to him.
"Tom, what is it?"
"I just remembered… that guy Abraxas has been acting a little off lately."
"Oh? What's wrong with him?" Wade asked.
"Well… he was the one who adjusted the best at first. He looked cheerful every day. But over the past few days, he's suddenly become gloomy… he hardly even shows up for club activities anymore. Just now, when you mentioned parents interfering… do you think his family's been pressuring him?"
"Most likely," Wade said calmly. "Because he was the first to surrender to us—and he even gave up a lot of names. So to the rest of Britain's pure-blood families, Abraxas is a traitor. The pressure he's under is much heavier than the others."
For the other pure-blood students, their parents clearly saw them as having been "forced" to join Wade's club.
So they viewed their children's choice as merely a temporary measure.
As such, they weren't putting much pressure on them.
But Abraxas was a completely different case.
Once his parents found out what he had done at school, they were bound to be furious...
After all, what he did wasn't some temporary compromise—he had truly surrendered!
Wade paused in thought, then said, "After class, tell him to come to the club room. I want to talk to him."
"Alright." Tom agreed it was time to have a word with him.
Right now, Abraxas was a model figure within the club—they couldn't afford to let him collapse so easily.
When Professor Slughorn announced the end of class, the students began packing up their books and getting ready for dinner.
"Wade, stay back for a moment," Professor Slughorn suddenly said from the podium.
Hmm?
"Yes, sir." Wade nodded, then said to Tom, "Go on ahead. I'll meet you in the club room later."
After Tom left, Wade followed Professor Slughorn into the office next door.
Professor Slughorn took a gleaming golden key out of the drawer and handed it to Wade with a smile.
"This is…?!"
_________
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