"Volcanic rock, really? Like those stupid Gryffindor lions' walls?"
"How about obsidian? My family has considerable mineral reserves—enough to renovate the entire exterior wall."
Selwyn sat upright in his chair, his rather flat tone carrying a hint of disdain.
"Actually..."
Marcus hesitated with a hissing voice: "I think so too, but Father already said volcanic rock..."
In the Slytherin common room, a group of pure-blood noble children sat around the conference table, looking at the common room blueprints in their hands, seriously expressing their respective opinions.
No one dared forget Tiger's order to renovate the common room, especially under Gemma Farley's leadership.
Moreover.
They'd actually wanted to do this for ages.
The silver and crystal goblets displayed in the liquor cabinet were indeed valuable, but such styles, combined with the crude craftsmanship from a century ago, wouldn't even be used by their grandfathers' generation, let alone these young people.
Those antiquated items were more like nostalgia for past glory than necessities in their lives.
Similar things were everywhere in the Slytherin common room, lying quietly there, witnessing the unbridgeable chasm between past and present.
But constrained by the dignity and respectability passed down through pure-blood noble generations, they had to be cautious with words and actions.
For the sake of surface harmony and tranquility, no one brought it up, so naturally they wouldn't speak either.
And this was Slytherin's flaw.
They always waited for someone to "stick their neck out"—if no one did, they'd rather maintain the status quo...
"Obsidian is too dark..."
Gemma Farley suddenly spoke.
Everyone's discussion stopped abruptly, attention gathering on her.
She glanced indifferently at the surprised crowd, gently blowing foam from her coffee cup.
"Silver obsidian would be better."
"Though I doubt you could gather enough. I understand Shelby's meaning—how about moonstone?"
"I'll go discuss it with him..." Her cool, gentle voice carried an undeniable undertone.
Moonstone, after careful grinding and polishing, would display a translucent, hazy beauty.
The delicate hues where silver radiance intertwined with emerald green, like the gentlest moonlight in the night sky, softly falling to earth.
Such minerals, though rare in the Muggle world, were fairly common in the wizarding world.
"But..." Everyone's gazes toward Gemma Farley held hesitation.
They didn't deny moonstone's perfect compatibility with Slytherin—they were just wary of the power games that might lurk behind this.
Moonstone replacing volcanic rock.
This seemed insignificant.
But negating and changing a leader's orders, once accumulated over time, would deal unimaginable blows to the leader's authority and credibility.
Like gentle rain nourishing everything, such tactics were common among pure-blood nobles...
"I object..."
Raven Borke narrowed his eyes meaningfully, saying without courtesy:
"Father's orders are above everything."
Including dignity and life.
Though he didn't voice this sentence, everyone clearly felt this guy's fanaticism.
Actually, it wasn't surprising.
Looking through several upheavals in British wizarding society.
The Borke family's requirements for leaders seemed to be more cruel and twisted than themselves.
Corman Avery lowered his head, touching his perfectly healed arm, trembling...
"Mr. Borke..."
Gemma Farley's eyes darkened slightly.
The constant surging longing and attachment in her heart gradually transformed into barely perceptible doubt.
"Three months ago, your grandfather selected a French fiancée for you..."
"The excellent family traditions of the Chalon family."
"I've heard something about them too."
"That young lady supposedly has excellent academic performance at Beauxbatons, and now she's gradually taking over the Chalon family's perfume business."
"Forgive my presumption in asking." Her frost-covered eyes flashed with disgust.
"Your reason for refusing was..."
This sudden question nearly threw the pure-blood noble children off balance, their gazes becoming somewhat strange.
Weren't they supposed to discuss renovation?
How did they suddenly start gossiping?
However, as Raven Borke fell silent, Gemma Farley's deep eyes became increasingly dangerous.
This was why she hated British men.
Every married British witch had to guard against not only the opposite sex but also the same sex—bloody hell.
[Is being a troublemaker fun?]
[Why don't you go find your daddy?]
Cold, sarcasm-filled thoughts echoed constantly in Gemma Farley's mind...
In fact.
Raven Borke was just being defensive.
He wanted to see what means Gemma Farley would try to use against him.
As for that fiancée...
No one could accept a 240-pound mixed-race black witch.
Never mind taking over the family business—even if she took over France, Raven Borke wouldn't want to look at her.
"Farley?"
Riley Shafiq imperceptibly assessed Gemma Farley, then silently covered her forehead, her usually calm, steady features showing panic.
[Merlin, Farley seems to be losing it!]
[What do I do!]
[What should I do!]
[Should I knock her out now?]
At lunchtime, Riley Shafiq had brought food to Gemma Farley's dormitory.
And Gemma Farley had then thought of how to get herself through graduation smoothly.
Better to channel than block—her emotions were too suppressed and contradictory. Continuing like this, even if the love potion was cured, mental splitting couldn't be healed.
A true Slytherin must know both when to grasp and when to let go—this was great wisdom and great willpower.
Gemma Farley decided to completely turn toward Shelby, approach Shelby, help him integrate Slytherin, but absolutely couldn't do anything against convention.
She hadn't lost to Shelby.
She'd only lost to herself—she had to temporarily transfer this hatred to the future...
Subsequently.
Gemma Farley, while her rationality still remained, told Riley Shafiq about the love potion.
She needed a second insurance policy to knock her out before she did something irreversible.
Sometimes.
Jiji grass wasn't convenient to appear.
House-elves attacking their masters, once seen by others, would cause an uproar, especially happening to pure-blood nobles...
"Riley, you're not just my subordinate, but my most loyal friend. In the days ahead..."
Listening to her friend's instructions.
Riley Shafiq's calm features gradually filled with "holy shit" and regret.
After all, this damn love potion
was what she'd put in the teapot...
Although the current Gemma Farley seemed no different from usual, only she knew.
What those pink ear tips and constantly tapping ankles under the table truly symbolized...
Merlin, save me.
"What, don't want to answer?" Gemma Farley's lips curved slightly, smiling coldly.
[Dare get close to Tiger again, and I'll send you to a centaur tribe...]
Raven Borke still couldn't figure out what Gemma Farley was trying to do to him.
"This is my private matter," he said flatly. "Unrelated to our agenda..."
Though he said this.
The Slytherins at the conference table, including the little snakes listening nearby in the common room, practically had "related" written on their faces.
"I'll say it again."
Raven Borke continued with a dark expression: "If Father wants volcanic rock, it must be volcanic rock."
"Mr. Borke, I admire your loyalty, but I reserve opinions on your wisdom and ability. Shelby will soon realize your stupidity, then abandon you..."
Gemma Farley was too lazy to continue entangling. She took a light sip of coffee, not even bothering to lift her eyes.
"Let's vote by show of hands. If the decision is moonstone, I'll personally find Shelby—it has nothing to do with you."
Moonstone or not didn't matter.
She just wanted to see Tiger soon...
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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