Kill all Squibs and Muggle-borns?
Hah…
Sean slowly straightened up, his face shaped into a perfectly polished aristocratic smile, as though he were genuinely intrigued by Barrett's words. But inside, he looked at Barrett as if the boy were already dead.
Sean was certain that Barrett, with his toxic ideas and deep-seated contempt for Squibs and wizards from Muggle families, would never see him as anything but an enemy. As someone who came from a Squib lineage himself, Sean knew that Barrett's hatred ran deep—and personal. Letting someone like that graduate and possibly fall into Voldemort's ranks wasn't just risky; it was reckless. Better to keep him here, locked in the arrogance and blindness of youth, than to unleash him on the world with a diploma in hand.
But Sean also knew he couldn't act rashly.
One curse might be dismissed as misfortune. Two would bring Dumbledore's scrutiny.
Sean suspected the Headmaster already had suspicions about what happened to Tarquin. Luckily, he'd prepared extensively. The curse had been discreet, powerful, and untraceable—no residual magic, no witnesses. Tarquin's dark reputation helped, too; Dumbledore hadn't looked too closely.
But try it again, and the old man would start digging.
So no curses this time.
"Barrett, tell us your plan. What exactly do you want to do?"
When Oliver posed the question, Barrett gave him a respectful nod, then spoke with fervent conviction."My plan is for Slytherin to go completely silent—vanish beneath the surface. We'll find and support the Heir of Slytherin, unleash the Basilisk, and cleanse Hogwarts!"
Sean nearly laughed out loud.
Foolish? The guy had pieced together the truth about the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk—no small feat.
Clever? Only someone with a brain-dead level of stupidity could propose "cleansing" Hogwarts.
Forget the fact that Hogwarts was filled with professors, not to mention Dumbledore himself, a wizard of unparalleled power. Forget whether the Basilisk even had the strength to carry out such a "cleansing." Just look at the people in this room—many of them had friends from Squib or Muggle families. Even someone like Oliver, a pure-blood supremacist, inevitably had connections with such students.
How could they possibly agree to this so-called cleansing?
Barrett's idea was laughable, but Sean understood his thinking. Barrett had likely convinced himself that Slytherin's heir was Voldemort. In his mind, finding Voldemort, the heir, and teaming up with him and the Basilisk would make cleansing Hogwarts a simple task.
Unfortunately, Barrett's plan was flawed from the start. His so-called Great master was still lurking in Albania's forests, possessing snakes and eating rats.
At Hogwarts, there was only Sean—the fake master.
Hmm?
Right, the fake master—himself.
Even the diary is in my hands, so....
---------------
When the meeting ended, they voted on Barrett's proposal.
Unsurprisingly, it was rejected.
Everyone here was Slytherin, not Volde-therin. Sure, some admired or even revered Voldemort, but most were rational. They knew exactly what kind of figure Voldemort was. When he was in power, they might have supported him. But now, with him presumed dead somewhere, who would bother with him?
Sean kept an eye on Barrett, expecting the fervent boy to show anger or frustration when his proposal was shot down. To his surprise, Barrett displayed no reaction at all, as if he'd anticipated the outcome.
Interesting.
Was that brainless act earlier just a pretense?
Or had he never expected his proposal to pass in the first place?
Leaving the meeting, Sean claimed he was tired and quickly departed.
Samuel and Irina assumed Sean was upset by Barrett's remarks and didn't suspect anything. They told him not to take it to heart and to rest.
Instead of returning to his room, Sean headed straight to the Great Hall, where he found Harry and Ron playing Wizard's Chess.
"Harry, can I ask you for a favor?"
Harry looked up at Sean, about to respond, when he noticed a few Gryffindors at their table eyeing Sean oddly. He quickly stood and led Sean to a corner of the Great Hall.
"Sean, whatever it is, just tell me. If I can help, I'll do my best."
To Harry, Sean had helped him more than once or twice. Last year, he'd even saved his life. While Sean wasn't as close to him as Ron or Hermione, there was no doubt he was a true friend. Sean often gave him valuable advice, and Harry cherished their friendship.
Seeing Sean needed help, Harry didn't hesitate.
"Harry, I know you have an Invisibility Cloak. Could I borrow it? If you're not comfortable with that, I can—"
"Sean, what are you talking about?" Harry looked at him incredulously. "Of course I trust you. Come with me. I'll get the Invisibility Cloak now. Just give it back when you're done."
Harry led Sean toward the Gryffindor common room but, mindful of the earlier scene at the Gryffindor table, kept him at a safe distance from the entrance. He slipped into his dormitory, tucked the Invisibility Cloak under his robes, and returned to hand the shimmering, silk-like cloak-terrain cloak to Sean.
"Here, Sean. This is my Invisibility Cloak. Go ahead."
Like Harry, Sean tucked the cloak under his robes and said, "Thanks, Harry."
"No problem, Sean. We're friends, aren't we?"
"Alright, I'll head off then. I'll return it as soon as I'm done."
They parted ways—one heading back to the Great Hall, the other to the Slytherin common room.
Though Sean could cast a Disillusionment Charm, his skill wasn't advanced. If he got too close to a target or faced an experienced wizard, he could be detected. But with the Invisibility Cloak—one of the Deathly Hallows—he could confidently follow Barrett and figure out what he was up to.