Chapter 166: Underlying Currents
"Is Russell really going to be expelled…?"
Neville Longbottom looked like he was about to cry.
It wasn't because he was afraid of losing someone to stand up for him—
It was because, at Hogwarts, Russell was one of the few people who had ever truly been kind to him.
He didn't want him to leave.
"He won't be, Neville. Don't listen to Draco Malfoy's nonsense," said Ron.
After hesitating for a moment, Ron handed over a Fizzing Whizzbees.
"Eat something. You'll feel better."
"Thanks, Ron…"
Neville's expression softened slightly—
but then darkened again.
"But Malfoy said… his father is on the school board."
"He said they won't let something like this happen again…"
"And they'll definitely get Russell expelled—maybe even send him to Azkaban…"
This time, even Ron wasn't so sure.
Could that actually happen?
Meanwhile—
in the Slytherin common room—
Malfoy was practically glowing with smug satisfaction.
"I will make Fythorne get out of Hogwarts," he declared arrogantly.
"He's just a filthy Mudblood—yet he's humiliated me again and again. Even worse than Potter."
"My father already knows everything," he continued.
"He's going to pressure Dumbledore through the Board of Governors."
"Not just expel him…"
Malfoy sneered.
"He wants him sent to Azkaban."
"A Mudblood daring to attack a pure-blood wizard in public—completely lawless."
"Hogwarts has really gone downhill under Dumbledore."
Then—
he suddenly changed tone, putting on a mock look of generosity.
"Of course…"
"If Fythorne apologizes to me—to the Malfoy family—"
"I might convince my father not to send him to Azkaban."
"But as for expulsion…"
He smirked.
"He'll probably have to crawl back to the Muggle world."
"Or maybe go live with that idiot Hagrid and become a gamekeeper."
Malfoy let out a soft, mocking laugh.
"Honestly, that might not be so bad."
"At least the Weasleys would be perfectly happy with that kind of job."
"After all—Hagrid's hut is practically a mansion compared to what they're used to."
As soon as Draco Malfoy finished speaking, laughter erupted throughout the Slytherin common room.
The air filled with cruel amusement.
Meanwhile—
Russell's side was far calmer.
"Don't worry," Wednesday said, sitting beside him, her pale legs swinging lightly as she leaned back on her hands.
"I've already told my parents. They said this isn't something you need to worry about—they'll handle it."
"I was never worried," Russell replied casually, a comb clenched between his teeth.
He had recently learned a few braiding techniques from Cho Chang and was now experimenting with Wednesday's hair.
"I actually think Professor Albus Dumbledore could solve this too…"
"…but that would leave me owing him too big a favor."
There was something he didn't say aloud.
Dumbledore could settle everything—
but in the public eye, he was a "benevolent old wizard."
Powerful, yes—
but not someone who used that power lightly.
That perception mattered.
After all, how else could the Ministry of Magic dare to send people to arrest him in the future?
Because people forgot—
that in his youth, Dumbledore had once stood alongside Gellert Grindelwald.
They feared strength—
but only when it was shown.
Look at the contrast:
No one dared provoke Lord Voldemort at his peak.
But Dumbledore?
They pushed their luck.
Because they thought—
he wouldn't strike.
"How is it?" Russell asked, stepping back to admire his work.
Wednesday's new hairstyle—
two neat buns.
Cute.
But…
it completely undermined her cold, gothic aura.
She shook her head.
Clearly not a fan.
"Alright," Russell shrugged.
"If you don't like it."
He didn't insist—
though he quietly memorized the look.
While things remained peaceful here—
the Rosier family was already preparing to make their move.
Inside Malfoy Manor—
Lucius Malfoy sat across from Knight Rosier.
"Lucius," said Knight Rosier,
"Our families have always been allies."
"…Even if some of ours are now in Azkaban, I trust that doesn't change anything."
Beside him sat his wife, Flora Rosier.
They were among the last remaining core members of the Rosier line.
Among pure-blood families, this wasn't unusual.
Generations of inbreeding had consequences—
fragile bloodlines, low birth rates, frequent deaths.
Some were even born as Squibs and cast out entirely.
Ironically—
many of these families secretly envied the Weasleys.
Because when it came to sheer numbers—
numbers meant power.
If a conflict broke out in Diagon Alley, for example—
families wouldn't immediately draw wands.
That would escalate things too far.
Instead—
it often turned into a physical brawl.
Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy might be evenly matched—
but Molly Weasley?
She could easily overpower Narcissa.
And Draco?
He'd be facing Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron—
and even Ginny joining in.
"Of course, Knight," Lucius replied smoothly, eyes half-lidded as his fingers idly traced his wand.
"A filthy Mudblood dares to flaunt himself before us… just because he has two Orders of Merlin?"
He let out a soft, disdainful chuckle.
"Those things can be bought."
"With enough gold, even a First Class Order of Merlin isn't out of reach."
"Second and Third Class?"
"They're meaningless."
"We simply don't bother wasting money on them."
"You're right," Knight nodded.
Then hesitated.
"But Dumbledore seems to favor him."
"I've heard that without Dumbledore backing him, he wouldn't have received those honors so easily."
"Dumbledore?"
Lucius scoffed.
"Yes, he's powerful."
"But don't forget—I'm a Hogwarts governor."
"If not for my annual donations, the school wouldn't run nearly as smoothly."
"You could say…"
"…even the professors—including Dumbledore—are partly paid by me."
"And besides," Lucius added coolly,
"I'm not breaking any rules."
"It's that Mudblood who crossed the line himself."