In the Great Hall, at the Slytherin table, whispers slithered through the air. Remembering the string of humiliations they had suffered at Char's hands, the young snakes found a rare moment of unity in their shared animosity.
"Think about it," one hissed, his face contorted with remembered anger. "How many times have we been humiliated by that little Hufflepuff?"
"This time, we must seize the opportunity to take revenge!" another agreed, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent.
They began to plot, discussing how they would deal with Char in the upcoming Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Some argued for a clean, swift takedown, something to utterly demolish his pride. Others suggested more insidious curses, ones that would make him break out in boils or vomit slugs for a week. As they spun their vicious plans, their eyes filled with an eager satisfaction, as if they could already see Char fallen before them, completely at their mercy.
Only Draco Malfoy's expression was ugly. He looked at them as if they were a pack of idiots who had no grasp of their own limitations. He stood up, his voice a cold slice through their excited chatter. "Do whatever you want. I'm not participating."
The other Slytherins gave him strange looks. Someone sneered, "Malfoy, have you forgotten what Char Sprout did to you? Did the giant Mandrake flower taste good? Now the opportunity for revenge is right before your eyes, and you're actually scared?"
"Coward," another muttered, loud enough for all to hear. "A shame to all pure-bloods. No wonder everyone says the Malfoys can't be trusted with heavy responsibilities. Your whole family is full of wimps who can't handle anything!"
Malfoy let their taunts wash over him, only a sarcastic sneer playing on his lips. He stood up and walked away, alone. A scene from not long ago replayed in his mind. It was the day Char had just been released from confinement. Malfoy had been in the crowd and overheard the "whispered" conversation between him and Hagrid about a dragon egg that was about to hatch. The news had made him happy; he had always loved dragons, and the chance to see one hatch was a unique opportunity. He also remembered his father's words: this was a good chance to get closer to Char. If he discovered their secret but didn't tell anyone, maybe he could improve their relationship.
So that night, Malfoy had also sneaked out of the castle, making his way toward Hagrid's hut. And that was when he saw a scene he would never forget. Umbridge was outside Hagrid's hut. After being discovered by Char, the two of them had chased each other and disappeared into the Forbidden Forest. Malfoy had been terrified. He never expected something like this to happen. He had hesitated, wondering if he should call a professor. It was the Forbidden Forest, after all.
But then, the unexpected had happened. Char had walked out of the forest alone. As for Umbridge… three days later, the Daily Prophet published the news of her death. It was then that Malfoy became certain of one thing: Umbridge's death was inextricably linked to Char Sprout. It was very likely that Char had done it himself.
A first-year wizard, killing an adult witch in the Forbidden Forest without a scratch on him… that was scary enough. What made Malfoy feel even colder was that the Ministry of Magic had just let it go. Not only had they failed to find the connection between Char and Umbridge's death, but Char had even received a lot of resources from the Ministry. This had completely dispelled Malfoy's dissatisfaction, jealousy, and unwillingness toward him. He finally understood why his father insisted that he and Char become friends. People were indeed different. In his first year, Char could do this. God knew what kind of strength he would have after graduation. Maybe Char would be the next Dark Lord.
The thought churned in his mind, and Malfoy's pale face flushed with a dark, vicarious excitement. He walked out of the Great Hall. He knew the other Slytherins must be looking at him with contempt, mocking his "cowardice." But he just wanted to laugh. With your limited strength, you still want to teach Char a lesson? You're looking for death. It wasn't just about weakness; their vision was poor. They were hopeless. With a newfound sense of superiority, Malfoy left the hall without looking back.
And at that moment, the figure walking toward him was none other than Char himself.
Malfoy shuddered. He quickly lowered his head, not daring to meet his eyes. This made Char pause for a moment. He hadn't expected Malfoy, who had always been against him, to be so humble now. Then, something even more unexpected happened. Malfoy not only adopted a humble attitude but also lowered his voice to warn him.
"Those idiots are going to cause trouble in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class later. And Marcus Flint… he seems to have received a letter from home today. He's going to be the teaching assistant for this class, and it looks like he's going to use the opportunity to take action."
Char stopped. He looked at Malfoy strangely, somewhat surprised and puzzled. "It seems our relationship is not that good. Isn't this considered a betrayal of Slytherin?"
Malfoy made a strange expression. "Betrayal? The Slytherin motto is that the means justify the ends. I've never heard of loyalty or unity. In my opinion, being friends with you is much more cost-effective than associating with those idiots." He and Char passed each other, his voice lowered to a whisper. "There are still some loose ends left in the Umbridge matter. The story of the dragon egg was told to her by a Slytherin student who was about to graduate. He used it to obtain a letter of employment from the Ministry. But my father has already taken care of that. He asked me to tell you that this is a small token of sincerity from the Malfoy family. We look forward to further cooperation with you in the future."
Finished, Draco Malfoy nodded and quickened his pace.
A hint of depth flashed across Char's eyes. Umbridge's death? Malfoy actually knew? But he wasn't worried. The matter had been settled, the announcement issued. So what if the Malfoys knew part of the story? It was no use anymore. Besides, given their family's character, they wouldn't do something so thankless as to stand up for Umbridge and overturn a joint announcement from the Ministry and Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy would have to have gone mad.
It seemed the Malfoy family was really showing their sincerity. Char raised an eyebrow, feeling quite emotional. They truly deserved their reputation for surviving so many changes in the wizarding world's political landscape. Their investment skills were really good. But he didn't reject the offer. The previous conflict with Malfoy was just childish play. It was still profitable to make friends with such a wealthy pure-blood family. If he needed to find rare seeds in the future, or needed land and resources, their financial resources and connections would be a great help.
As for the news Malfoy had just given him, that the little Slytherins were going to cause trouble… a playful smile appeared on Char's lips. After learning a few practical skills, do you think you're good enough? It seems I need to make them remember one thing more clearly. I eat snakes for breakfast. And Marcus Flint, a fifth-year, wanted to be the teaching assistant and cause trouble? A cold glint flashed across Char's eyes. He wouldn't mind having Marcus Flint stay in the infirmary for the rest of the school year.
He slowly approached the Great Hall. When his figure appeared, he immediately attracted everyone's attention. The faces of the Hufflepuffs were full of surprise. They all waved to him.
"Char, are you healed? We haven't seen you in ages!"
Cedric Diggory and his Quidditch teammates whistled. "You've been absent from training for too long. You're not getting rusty, are you? It won't be long until the finals!"
A smile also appeared on Char's face. His recently tense nerves finally relaxed, and he waved to the other students as he walked toward the Hufflepuff table. But before he could arrive, a group of figures blocked his way. It was the Slytherins, who had filed out from their table and, as if on purpose, passed by him one by one, all looking at him with malicious eyes. Someone even whispered a threat. "I hope you're as brave as before. Don't pretend to be sick and be afraid to come to class later."
Char's expression didn't even waver. Compared to the dangers he had faced, the self-righteous threats of these little snakes were simply hilarious. He was too lazy to bother with them. Until a tall, burly figure stood in front of him. It was Marcus Flint. He looked down at Char, his face full of ferocity. "Do you think you're something special? My father asked you to cooperate, and you dared to humiliate our family. It seems I need to let you know the value of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."
Char raised an eyebrow. "The Sacred Twenty-Eight? Please. Apart from hearing it from you and your father, I rarely hear that uncommon phrase. I think it's probably because the other families feel it's a shame to be listed with the Flints."
Marcus Flint's forehead suddenly bulged with blue veins. He was obviously extremely angry. If this weren't the Great Hall, with professors eating at the staff table, he would have exploded on the spot. But now, he suppressed his anger and left a vicious sentence. "Wait. You're not allowed to use brute force in Defense Against the Dark Arts. As your teaching assistant for the next class, I will give you good guidance on practical magic. Don't think about pretending to be sick and not coming, otherwise I guarantee that other students in your house will have more injuries on their bodies. In actual combat training, injuries are inevitable. You don't want to see that, do you?" With a smug smile, he walked out of the Great Hall.
At that moment, Cedric Diggory walked over quickly. "What did they tell you?"
Char shook his head. "It was just the barking of a dog."
"Don't worry, Char," Cedric continued. "I'm the teaching assistant for our house in the next class. I won't let Slytherin become too arrogant. Marcus Flint, that idiot who only knows how to bully the weak… I can knock him down in just a few moves."
Char smiled. He had no doubt about Cedric's words. After all, the person in front of him was the genuine champion of Hogwarts. As for Marcus Flint, apart from relying on his burly physique and dirty fouls in Quidditch, he wasn't fit to carry Cedric's shoes in any other subject. But Char said something meaningful. "No, Cedric. I wish you wouldn't show up for this class. Let Marcus Flint be the only teaching assistant."
Cedric looked surprised. "But if that's the case, as the only assistant, he has every reason to 'guide' the Hufflepuffs. He'll have a chance—" He suddenly paused, his eyes flickering with cunning. He knew what Char was going to do. If he didn't go, Marcus could naturally take revenge. But for Char… wasn't this an opportunity? He recalled the scene at the Quidditch match when Char had planned to massacre Slytherin. This was the same expression. Just as Char believed in Cedric's ability, Cedric had almost absolute confidence in the first-year student. Marcus Flint? He was nothing.
Cedric patted his shoulder. "I'll leave it to you, then. Go for it." He added, "Speaking of which, our house has suffered a lot of losses in the recent practicals. It's up to you to teach those idiots an unforgettable lesson." He very tacitly slid back to his position with an exaggerated movement. "My feet won't move," he said loudly. "I might not be able to be the TA for today's class." The friends beside him quickly helped him to his seat. Under Cedric's gaze, the other senior students hesitated, then chose to believe him. Cedric winked at Char, indicating that he had done it.
Char smiled. Cedric already demonstrated his leadership qualities. It was no wonder that in the original story, even Harry Potter couldn't compare with his support rate during the Triwizard Tournament. If he hadn't died young, his future would have been limitless.
He felt a gaze from the teacher's seat and buried all his emotions deep in his heart. Quirrell sipped his pumpkin juice, talking to Voldemort in his mind. Master. During this time, I followed your instructions and caused a disturbance in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class to distract Dumbledore. Now that Char is back, it seems he has achieved some results. Do you need me to stop today's practical class? I think those little snakes are going to cause him some trouble.
Voldemort's cold voice rang out in his mind. Don't bother. With Char's strength, he doesn't need any protection. It would be good to teach these self-righteous little snakes a lesson. That way, they'll know what's truly worth pursuing, rather than just indulging in childish games. As for Char… power is an addiction. When he realizes the benefits of following me, of easily trampling these mediocre peers underfoot, he won't be able to stand being ordinary anymore. This chess piece will be even more devoted to me.
Everything is under your control, Master, Quirrell said quickly. It is a great honor for a young boy like Char to be valued so highly by you. When he knows the truth, he will be grateful.
Feeling that the gaze on him had moved away, Char breathed a sigh of relief, a sharp look flashing across his own eyes. Be patient, he told himself. The end of the semester isn't far off. After this school year, there will be no Voldemort at Hogwarts. Next time we meet, it will be during the Goblet of Fire. By then, I won't be the same person I was before, and I won't have to be so cautious.
His gaze fell on the other Hufflepuffs. He saw that on their faces, besides happiness at his return, there was also a trace of sadness that could not be concealed. "What's wrong with you?" he asked. "Why are you so listless?"
Hannah Abbott sighed, her pigtails swaying. "Of course, it's because today is Defense Against the Dark Arts class again. Recent classes have incorporated practical combat. Gryffindor and Slytherin were both very happy, but we've suffered a lot. We've always lost in the training with other houses. We've been getting laughed at lately, saying things like, 'What's the big deal about leading in the House Cup? You're still weak.'"
Susan Bones was also unhappy, cutting a piece of steak with great effort, as if venting her anger on it. "Forget about other houses. But today's class is a sparring match with Slytherin." She bit her lip tightly, a look of determination in her eyes. "It doesn't matter if we lose to other houses. The only one I don't want to lose to is Slytherin. Those guys who have committed so many evil deeds… they all came from there."
Char looked at her, a sudden enlightenment coming to him. Susan's parents had been killed by a Death Eater from Slytherin. It was perfectly normal that she didn't want to lose to them. Many of the students in the house had relatives who had been harmed by Death Eaters. After all, more wizards came from Hufflepuff than any other house, and in the war, no other house had suffered more. The little badgers were not competitive, but there were some things they wouldn't give up. To lose to Slytherin in a class like Defense Against the Dark Arts was, for many of them, unacceptable. But they also knew that in terms of strength, they could hardly be the opponents of the little snakes, who were naturally keen on this kind of thing. This made them feel discouraged.
Char looked at the dejected atmosphere. After thinking for a moment, he said, "Do you believe me? I have a way for you to knock the little snakes down."
As soon as he spoke, the kids' eyes lit up. "Really?"
He laughed. "When have I ever lied to you?"
Their eyes became brighter. It was true. Whether it was Lumos or Transfiguration, his guidance had always been effective. He had led them to victory time and time again. Before they knew it, he had become the backbone of the first-years.
Susan Bones nodded vigorously, gritting her teeth. "I believe everything you say."
Char nodded. "In fact, you already have a good foundation in Transfiguration," he said seriously. "In terms of magical proficiency, you are not lower than the Slytherins, and may even be higher. But in actual combat, proficiency isn't everything. Experience, momentum, and the will to win are also crucial. But as for this particular class, if you do one thing, you have a high chance of winning."
The kids seemed to understand but not quite. "Which thing?"
"Your eyes," Char said softly. "Look them straight in the eye. Do not look away under any circumstances. Do not be afraid to meet their gaze. The Slytherins are full of people who bully the weak and fear the strong. When you are not afraid of them, then they will become afraid of you."
The kids were stunned for a moment. They hadn't expected the solution to be so simple. Just keep looking at each other? But then, with their trust in Char, they all nodded vigorously. Susan Bones tightened her grip on her wand, her eyes now wide and determined.
It was almost time for class. Char and the others walked towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The Slytherin students had already arrived, talking amongst themselves, some wearing malicious smiles and rubbing their wands in anticipation. When the Hufflepuffs came in, the Slytherins all cast playful glances their way.
What Char had just said was echoing in the young badgers' heads. Each of them widened their eyes and glared back fiercely.
This time, it was the Slytherins who were stunned. No? Why are you staring at me? one thought, flustered. The little Hufflepuffs remained silent, but they continued to stare at the little snakes, not blinking. In just a moment, the playful and amusing expressions on the faces of most of the Slytherins disappeared. They looked away, feeling a little guilty.
Char looked on with a hint of ridicule in his eyes. There was nothing worse than appearing fierce but being weak inside. The Hufflepuffs also felt a surge of relief. What Char had said was indeed true. If you stare at a little snake, the little snake gets scared. They were not as strong as they claimed to be. They all looked so weak!
Malfoy watched the scene coldly. He had already made up his mind. Hanging around with these worms, he thought, it would be strange if he could do well!
Just at that moment, Marcus Flint walked in as the assistant teacher. He frowned after seeing this scene. "Class is about to start," he said loudly. "What are you all doing?!"
But Char showed no intention of returning to his seat. Instead, he turned around and gave Marcus Flint a cold, warning look. He didn't move. The kids didn't move either. One by one, they turned around and stared at Marcus Flint.
This time, a hint of panic flashed across Marcus Flint's eyes. An incredible thought roared in his mind. Are these little guys going to cause a riot?!
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