Chapter 108: The Champion’s Feast And Power
The cruel Flint, with the poisoned bait tactic he devised, never intended to poison just one lion cub.
If Gryffindor couldn’t make a decisive cut to save itself, then George, who was held off his broom by Derek, would become the true poisoned bait, luring them to their deaths one by one.
The so-called poisoned bait poisons emotions and hooks people’s hearts.
Of course, Vaughn would never admit that his suggestions were partly responsible for the strategic brilliance of “Besiege Wei to rescue Zhao” behind the tactic.
He was just an ordinary Slytherin player, responsible only for executing the tactic, not for taking the blame!
Seeing Fred chase after him, Bole followed closely behind.
Amidst Lee Jordan’s desperate cries, Vaughn forcefully nudged his broom, turning to charge at Fred.
Lee Jordan, his voice hoarse, almost wanted to cover his eyes: “Indeed, Vaughn turned and charged at Fred, poor Fred, he’s being sandwiched from front and back… He tried to dodge and weave, but he couldn’t escape at all, Vaughn and Bole flew past him in passing.”
“Too fast! I can’t see what’s happening at all, I only saw Fred fall off his broom… Merlin’s beard, there’s no second Harry on the pitch, Fred can only fall in despair.”
“What’s more unfortunate is that Harry couldn’t save George, he caught them, but the three of them were too heavy, Derek, this mad…”
“Jordan!” Professor McGonagall’s stern, suppressed-with-anger voice boomed.
Lee Jordan huffed indignantly a couple of times, but didn’t continue his tirade: “…Derek held George tightly, and to avoid affecting Harry, George had to let go.”
“Oh—everyone look, Headmaster Dumbledore himself stood up and cast ‘Dampening Charm’, under his powerful magic, Fred and George were unharmed, but I’m not happy at all, because both of them were eliminated by the despicable Slytherins!”
Professor McGonagall didn’t stop him this time; the Deputy Headmistress was very angry now. Slytherin had played too dirty, and what made her even angrier was… Gryffindor’s tactics weren’t exactly clean either.
These people were all defiling Quidditch, which was sacred in her heart!
Although in official matches outside of school, such tactics of targeting players for elimination were considered standard operating procedure—modern Quidditch is much more conservative. If it were in the past, fouls were even more terrifying, looking almost like murder, such as using magic to turn opposing players into ferrets, or trying to chop off the goalkeeper’s head…
Of course, the students still found it hard to accept, especially Gryffindor. The little lions in the stands let out a huge boo, and some angrily threw things into the air, as if trying to bring down the Slytherin team.
The Slytherin stands were not to be outdone, and all sorts of miscellaneous items were thrown at the little lions.
If Dumbledore hadn’t stood up again and shouted them down with a powerful, enchanted voice, the spectators might have reenacted the fine tradition of English football fans today.
After the commotion subsided, Lee Jordan began his commentary again: “There was a slight issue with the audience just now, now, let’s return to the match, Madam Hooch has made her ruling.”
“Derek committed a malicious foul and was disqualified from this match; Gryffindor gets 2 penalty shots. Bole committed a collision foul once; Gryffindor gets 1 penalty shot.”
“These penalties cannot assuage our pain, nor can they compensate for Gryffindor’s current disadvantage. Although Slytherin fouled, according to the rules, Fred and George have no possibility of returning to the field… Damn it, Madam Hooch should have sent Bole off too!”
Lee Jordan exclaimed indignantly.
But everyone knew that he could only vent his frustration like this. After all, when Vaughn, Bole, and Fred flew past each other, although it was difficult to see clearly, their tactical movements could still be judged.
They did not engage in any malicious actions such as pulling or kicking.
Most notably, the cameras, appearing on the pitch for the first time, provided strong evidence for Madam Hooch’s ruling. The camera on Fred’s broom clearly captured the image of Bole hitting Fred’s broom handle with his broom tail.
There was no physical contact, so it was just a collision foul.
Looking at the image projected on the giant screen in the corner of the pitch, replaying repeatedly, Ron, who had just been arguing with the Slytherins about who was louder, grumbled hoarsely, unwillingly: “Despicable Slytherins, and despicable Vaughn…”
“Ronald!” Hermione glared at him disapprovingly, “Vaughn was just executing Flint’s tactic. Look, he didn’t commit any fouls in the video!”
“That’s because Bole already did. I don’t believe he’s some innocent little lamb. I bet if Bole hadn’t succeeded in fouling Fred, he would have definitely made a dirty move!”
Ron huffed, what a foolish little girl, she was truly blind to think Vaughn was some kind person?
But what annoyed him was that there were quite a few foolish little girls around, like Hermione’s roommate, Lavender Brown, who was arguing with Seamus Finnigan, insisting that Vaughn was so handsome, he must be a gentle boy who respected his brother and cared for his younger brother, and would never commit such a foul.
Gag!
Makes me want to puke!
Amidst the clamor, the whistle blew again.
“Okay, the penalties are over, Madam Hooch blew the whistle. Alas, I hope the Gryffindor team can quickly compose themselves…”
Lee Jordan’s re-energized commentary was laced with worry. Madam Hooch blew the whistle again, signaling the continuation of the match.
The Gryffindor team, back in the air, all had pale faces and serious expressions.
They glared at their opponents with grief and indignation, including Harry, who stared intently at Vaughn.
No one would have expected that the match they had prepared for months would be ruined like this. Harry’s eyes even turned red with self-blame.
The scene of George falling with Derek not long ago kept flashing before his eyes.
He always thought, if only he had been a little faster, just a little faster.
Could he have knocked Derek over, could he have held onto George?
But there are no “ifs” in reality.
The reality was that the tactic he and Wood had devised for months had failed miserably, failed from the very beginning. When he dived at Derek, when he subconsciously wanted to save George, their tactic had already become a joke.
It was all because of him, he had been tricked, and it was his subconscious actions that led to Fred’s elimination—Harry now understood why Vaughn had circled him; it was an offensive posture, and Vaughn was forcing someone from the Gryffindor team to come to his rescue in that manner.
Because he was the Seeker, more important than anyone else!
Looking at Harry, whose eyes were red, Vaughn muttered to himself:
Did I make the Boy Who Lived cry?
Flint, you are truly a sinner!
Flint, baring his buck teeth, was unaware that he had inexplicably shouldered another burden.
He was still smugly grinning, that arrogant demeanor, no wonder Vaughn habitually threw the blame on him; he was too hateful, with a naturally mocking face.
In his expression of petty triumph, everyone on Gryffindor held their breath.
When Madam Hooch blew the whistle for the third time, signaling Gryffindor to start executing their 3 penalty shots （ similar to penalty kicks, free kicks ）.
Three chances, Angelina, Alicia, and Harry each took one.
In reality, besides the goalkeeper Wood, only these three remained…
The three, with anger burning in their chests, did not waste their opportunities, swinging their fists to smash the Quaffle heavily into the Slytherin goal.
Gryffindor led 30:10.
However, the supporters of Gryffindor and commentator Lee Jordan couldn’t really be optimistic: “Gryffindor has no way out. They were already at a disadvantage against Slytherin, and now they’ve lost two Beaters. The numerical disadvantage will inevitably increase defensive difficulty, and even completely stifle their offense.”
“Now we can only hope Harry catches the Golden Snitch as soon as possible!”
Harry also understood that the only hope for victory now was for him to catch the Golden Snitch, which would directly award him 150 points.
He also held his breath, wanting to turn the tide.
But in the restarted match, he truly experienced how painful it was to be one person short in a team competition.
That damned Bole flew almost entirely glued to him, occasionally hitting him with a Bludger to interfere. Angelina and Alicia couldn’t spare any energy to help him.
Although he spotted the Golden Snitch first after 30 minutes, he was constantly harassed by Bole and couldn’t break free.
He could only watch as Vaughn leisurely tore through the defensive line, scoring another goal for Flint, before turning to chase the Golden Snitch and ending the match by catching it without any pressure.
Final score:
【 Slytherin 260:30 Gryffindor 】
Shocking, a bloodbath!
For everyone who supported Gryffindor, these 30 minutes, and Gryffindor’s conspicuous 30 points, were an agonizing torment.
They personally witnessed how Gryffindor, with one less player, was toyed with by their nemesis Slytherin like a pet, their paper-thin defense torn apart in various fancy ways, and goals scored in various fancy ways.
Watching Wood desperately defending the goal, watching Angelina and Alicia, two girls, barely getting any offensive chances and having to become goalkeeper number 2 and 3, desperately chasing after the ball.
And Harry, like a headless fly, also desperately chasing after the ball!
This was the most despairing match they had ever watched, but no one could blame the Gryffindor team.
The two girls were so tired they were almost exhausted.
Wood and Harry weren’t much better; they were drenched, and it was hard to tell if it was rain or sweat. When Madam Hooch blew the final whistle, they almost slid off their brooms.
A murmur of sighs came from the Gryffindor stands, while the Slytherin stands cheered. Someone, it’s unclear who, started shouting Vaughn’s name, and gradually more people joined in, including Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.
Amidst the fervent cheers and gazes of the crowd, Vaughn slowly flew in front of Harry and extended his hand: “Are you okay, Harry?”
If it were any other Slytherin, Harry would have given him a cold look, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate Vaughn. He just felt very tired.
It was as if the determination he had built up for months suddenly leaked out, and he had no spirit, not even knowing what expression to wear.
He just lightly shook Vaughn’s hand: “I’m okay…”
He paused, wanting to appear graceful and magnanimous, and say something like adults do on television, “Congratulations on winning the championship.”
But Harry found that he was actually so wronged and depressed that he wanted to cry.
Then, tears really fell…
Seeing Harry burst into tears and unable to stop, Vaughn instinctively looked back at Marcus—the Blame-Dodger—Flint, who was waving his arms like a gorilla and grinning widely at the spectators.
He really made the Boy Who Lived cry!
Even Voldemort couldn’t do that, Flint, you are truly… a sinner!
…
Harry, crying more and more uncontrollably, was eventually dragged away by the twins—of the entire Gryffindor team, only they, having left the field early, still had the energy.
After the match, Angelina and Alicia were so tired they couldn’t even get off their brooms.
It was Professor McGonagall who, with pity, used magic to get them down and then arranged for female help to take them to the Hospital Wing.
As for Wood.
This “veteran” who had his dream shattered for the third time （ Wood had been the goalkeeper since third year ）, stayed alone on the Quidditch Pitch as the crowd gradually dispersed, in the increasingly heavy rain, as if wanting to drown himself.
No one cared about the various postures of the losers. Gryffindor Academy, also a loser, who had been arguing louder than anyone before, had now quieted down.
Most people could only see the winners.
All the little snakes spontaneously gathered around Vaughn and the others, cheering them all the way back to Slytherin’s “sea-view room.” Then, the guys from wealthy and powerful families began to plan the banquet.
Like Malfoy!
This guy, who usually avoided Vaughn as if he were a mouse seeing a cat, walked proudly beside Vaughn today, boasting about his relationship with Vaughn to everyone he met.
In fact, what he said had some basis in fact. Since Vaughn joined Slytherin Academy, besides the team members and the unlucky Prefect on the first day who was knocked unconscious and couldn’t even be named, he and Vaughn had the most contact.
Vaughn even affectionately called him “Draco,” which was a great honor among the many Slytherins who couldn’t even be named!
Malfoy donated all his pocket money today, about 50 Gold Galleons, and commissioned older students to go to Hogsmeade to prepare candy and drinks for the banquet.
He was also very obsequious and added with a hint of malice: “Vaughn, do you want me to call Potter and Granger too?”
Vaughn looked at this handsome guy, who was gilded on the outside, and almost wanted to cut him open to see if there was rotten cotton inside.
Too cruel, Harry was already crying, and you still want to rub salt in the wound?
What a beast!
The soft-hearted Vaughn naturally vetoed this outrageous suggestion, only instructing: “No need to call them, just send a portion of the food to Harry. He probably won’t be in the mood to dine in the Great Hall tonight.”
Hearing this, Malfoy’s face lit up with joy.
It didn’t matter if Harry came or not; as long as he could go in front of him and mock him, he would be satisfied!
Malfoy left happily, planning how to humiliate Potter.
The other joyous little snakes continued to surround Vaughn.
Whether sincere or faking to please, at least, they appeared happy.
Vaughn was also very happy.
Having won the match, barring any accidents, his main quest would be completed in a month. After a “hard” year, he could finally improve his talent again.
Harry felt like he could barely breathe.
Gryffindor had failed. Although everyone knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault, from another perspective, everyone could be blamed.
Although no one accused him, their words of regret and pity stabbed into Harry’s heart like knives.
“It’s not Harry’s fault. We can all see that his reaction time is inferior to Vaughn’s, his broom performance is also lagging, and his physical fitness is even less comparable. Harry is too thin and small, while Vaughn is tall and strong…”
“Yes, Angelina and Alicia also couldn’t contend with Flint and Pucey. There’s nothing that can be done about it. They’ve done their best to compensate, but the effect isn’t ideal.”
“It’s okay for the tactic to fail. In hundreds of years, with so many Quidditch teams in the world, how many tactics have been developed? It’s just a pity that this year had such great potential…”
In the Gryffindor Common Room, similar whispers could be heard endlessly.
Just before today, everyone always praised Harry’s slender physique, calling him a perfect traditional Seeker.
They praised Angelina and Alicia’s agile figures on the pitch, saying they were as agile as peregrine falcons.
These past words had suddenly disappeared on this night of failure. Everyone whispering seemed to have transformed into Quidditch experts, bringing out the previously ignored mistakes one by one as evidence of their failure—insufficient individual physical fitness of the players, tactics being deciphered and countered… Such a team couldn’t win, and it seemed perfectly reasonable!
Harry wanted to cover his ears, not wanting to hear those words anymore.
But he dared not.
He didn’t dare to show his vulnerability and resistance. Crying on the pitch earlier was already too out of line and embarrassing; he couldn’t give everyone the impression that he was cowardly and evasive.
Because he was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the hero and warrior in everyone’s eyes!
But in reality, Harry still avoided it. He sat on the sofa facing the fireplace, so he wouldn’t have to look at the people discussing behind him.
The Legilimency he had painstakingly learned for months now had a use—it could help him quickly clear his mind and shift his attention.
“If Vaughn knew that the Legilimency he painstakingly taught me was being used like this, he would definitely be very angry.”
Harry thought self-mockingly, and then the name Vaughn that appeared in his mind caused him another wave of discomfort.
The opponent had personally orchestrated their defeat, destroying Gryffindor’s hope of winning the House Cup again after many years—this was also the main reason for everyone’s gossip, and an important factor in Harry’s earlier tears on the pitch.
Even now, Harry’s heart felt empty. The feeling of working hard for months, once seeing hope, only for it to turn into nothing, was truly indescribable.
Harry sat by the cold fireplace. If someone approached him, he would respond, and if no one came, he would daydream. During this time, he seemed to hear someone mention that Malfoy was lingering outside the Gryffindor common room, wanting to call him to some banquet.
Harry ignored it. The entire room was filled with extreme disappointment, and the little lions desperately wanting to vent something would make the foolish Malfoy understand what anger was!
He sat by the fireplace like this, from day to night.
When it got dark, he heard a few students say: “Slytherin is having a feast, those detestable guys!”
Harry, lost in thought, suddenly remembered the small banquet the House had held to welcome him when he first joined the Quidditch team last year.
That was the most glorious moment of his life in over a decade. He enjoyed that feeling, not because of vanity, but because for the first time in his life, he realized he wasn’t despised trash, and he could also be needed.
The obsession with victory likely stemmed from this. In essence, Harry didn’t think he was a competitive person, otherwise, he and Ron wouldn’t have been so laid-back and at the bottom of the class all day.
His desire to defeat Slytherin and win the House Cup probably began that day.
Unfortunately, hope was completely shattered.
He wished time could rewind and let everything start over.
Harry thought unwillingly, is there any way to salvage this?
He continued to daydream until Ron and Hermione returned from the Great Hall, bringing him some Fried Cod, fries, and pie.
Hermione brought the food over and urged, “Harry, eat something. You didn’t eat lunch.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat a little, at least. Are you going to be like Wood? Angelina said he sat on the pitch all day and passed out from low blood sugar in the evening. Madam Pomfrey gave him a whole bottle of potion.”
Madam Pomfrey’s potions still had a significant deterrent effect. Harry took the Fried Cod and mechanically put it into his mouth.
Seeing his friend’s lifeless state, Ron started talking about Malfoy’s misfortune, trying to cheer him up: “Malfoy is finished this time, Harry. That foolish pretty boy actually dared to come to Gryffindor to provoke us. Some older student must have cast a Confundus Charm on him. He ran into Quirrell’s office and made a big scene!”
“I heard he smashed Quirrell’s potion bottles. Quirrell was very angry, and Professor McGonagall was also very angry. They punished Malfoy with mandatory labor in Quirrell’s office as a penalty, which is extremely satisfying!”
Speaking of which, Ron sneered: “If Quirrell, that man in black, could cast an Evil Curse on Malfoy, that would be even better!”
The speaker was unintentional, but Harry, who had been lost in thought, suddenly had a flash of inspiration.
He quickly swallowed the tasteless cod in his mouth, looked around, pulled Ron and Hermione closer, and said in a low voice: “I suddenly thought, if we stop Quirrell from stealing the Philosopher’s Stone, wouldn’t that count as protecting school property?”
Hermione was a bit bewildered, but she still nodded: “Of course, it does.”
“Then…” Harry nervously swallowed, “Since we protected school property, shouldn’t the school give us some reward?”
“…”
Hermione didn’t know what to say for a moment. Ron, on the other hand, his eyes lit up at the mention of a reward: “That’s right! I didn’t even think of it. The Philosopher’s Stone is so precious. Even without mentioning its ability to grant immortality, its ability to turn stone into gold is very powerful. If we protect it, the school should give us some reward, right?”
“I’m not asking for much, just a few hundred ounces of gold!”
“Dream on,” Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron speechlessly.
She frowned and looked at Harry: “Why did you suddenly think of this? Your vault is probably filled with Gold Galleons!”
Now it was Harry’s turn to be confused: “How did you know?”
He wasn’t someone who liked to show off his wealth. In the past, he had only casually mentioned to his friends that he had inherited some fortune.
Hermione’s expression was calm: “Vaughn said it. He said the Potter family is very wealthy. Your grandfather developed Potter Shampoo. He sold the company for a large sum before your father was born, enough for several generations to live very prosperously.”
Ron, on the side, drooled with envy.
Listening to Hermione’s words, Harry suddenly realized that he knew less about the Potter family than others.
However, the focus wasn’t on that right now.
Harry lowered his voice: “The reward I want is certainly not money, but something that money can’t buy. For example… asking Dumbledore to add a few hundred points to Gryffindor’s House score, that shouldn’t be too much to ask, right?”
“No, absolutely not!”
“I’m just making a suggestion, an idea. Hermione, do you think a few hundred points is too much? Then we can discuss how many points would be reasonable…”
“It’s not about the number of points!”
At this moment, the trio was in a stalemate by the Black Lake.
After realizing that Hermione disagreed with his idea, Harry quickly pulled her out of the castle to avoid saying anything they shouldn’t in a public place if they argued.
Harry was very puzzled why Hermione disagreed: “It’s not because the points are too many, what else could it be?”
Hermione’s usually fair face turned red. She tried hard to explain: “Harry, Quirrell is a bad guy, and he’s doing bad things. Relatively, exposing him is doing good deeds. How can good deeds… how can they be mixed with benefits?”
Harry and Ron looked at each other, not quite understanding.
In fact, Hermione couldn’t articulate a clear reason; she was just a child, just as she said.
Quirrell is a bad guy, doing bad things, so opposing him naturally means doing good deeds.
A typical black-and-white, simple view of good and evil.
In Hermione’s simple view, good deeds should be pure, without any admixture of profit. However, if she were to apply this standard to Harry and Ron, she would feel it inappropriate.
Unable to articulate a reason and lacking confidence in her rebuttal, the situation became awkward for a moment.
In the end, Hermione retreated due to Harry’s appeals to pity.
Under the clear moonlight at night, Harry said sincerely: “Hermione, what I want is not profit, but House points. You saw it today, everyone is very dispirited. Gryffindor hasn’t touched the House Cup for seven years.”
“For us, this is just the first year, we don’t deeply understand it, but what about the older students? They’ve experienced years of disappointment. Especially the seventh years, they have experienced seven full years of decline… Hermione, I don’t want them to leave school with regrets!”
By the end, Harry was moved by his own words, although he genuinely felt that way.
“…”
Hermione was silent for a moment, and finally did not insist, but she also raised another important issue: “Have you thought about how to expose Quirrell? Before, we didn’t care when Quirrell would steal the Philosopher’s Stone, but now? What if he endures it all, endures until the summer holiday, endures until we are in our second year, third year? What will you do then?”
“Uh…” Harry was dumbfounded, and Ron was also stunned.
They really hadn’t considered this problem.
If Quirrell was that patient, even if they exposed him then, it would have nothing to do with this year. Who knows if they could get this close to the House Cup again in the future?
“Hmph!”
Hermione snorted coldly. She had long seen through Harry and Ron; they acted on impulse and barely used their brains.
After racking their brains for a long time, neither of them could come up with a good solution.
Harry stared blankly at the dark Black Lake under the night sky. Ron grumbled: “We’re not worms in Quirrell’s stomach, how would we know what he’s planning? Sigh, if only we knew Divination!”
Harry’s mind suddenly had another flash of inspiration: “Wait, Divination…?”
Ron was accustomed to Harry’s ignorance of magical “common sense” and explained: “There are real Seers in the wizarding world, Harry. For example, Professor Trelawney, the Divination professor at Hogwarts. Her ancestors were famous prophets in the world back then.”
But this time, he was surprised.
“I know about Divination, Ron,” Harry said. “I read about it in a book.”
Hermione and Ron looked at Harry in surprise. Although they didn’t say anything, their meaning was clear: You actually read books?
Harry pretended not to see, hiding his embarrassment, and said, “And I know where to find Seers who can divine!”
“Where?”
Harry stood up and looked towards the forest in the distance, which was edged with silver by the moonlight but appeared even darker:
“In the Forbidden Forest!”
…
At night, Slytherin’s celebrations were still ongoing.
Over 80% of Slytherin students came from Pure-blood families. In the modern wizarding world, Pure-blood families, once symbols of power, didn’t necessarily retain power and influence, but they definitely had money.
A group of rich heirs paved their way with money, and the banquet was magnificently held.
They ordered a large batch of magical fireworks from Zonko’s Joke Shop and ignited them in Slytherin’s small auditorium. Several illusory Fire Dragons, constantly exploding with flames in their bellies, flew around the auditorium ceiling, serving as lanterns.
A cluster of sparkling sparklers danced on the table, either passionately or comically.
And of course, Butterbeer and Pumpkin Juice, which are always present at banquets. Some older students even secretly bought alcohol （ Butterbeer is a drink ）.
Everyone had a great time.
Of course, for some students, they didn’t organize this celebratory banquet primarily for fun.
“…Wolfsbane Potion can be called the most important potion achievement of the 20th century. For the past thousand years, the werewolf problem has plagued the wizarding world. It wasn’t until you developed Wolfsbane Potion that this millennia-old problem began to see hope of resolution.”
“And the ‘Werewolf Affairs Committee’, uniting werewolves, is an unprecedented feat that no one has accomplished in a thousand years. I must say, a Level 2 Order of Merlin is simply not worthy of your actions and achievements.”
In the center of the Great Hall, several seventh-year students, holding wine glasses, surrounded Vaughn, speaking with the flattery that adults in society would find over-the-top, fully embodying the air of elite nobles attending a wine reception.
Seventh year, 18 years old. According to the English concept of the coming-of-age ceremony at 16, this age is no longer considered adolescence. Once they graduate from school, it means they will officially leave the ivory tower and enter a completely different realm.
From then on, their world will no longer be solely about academics; they will have to consider survival, work, and starting a family.
Therefore, even though they haven’t graduated yet, the mindset of these seventh-year students has already begun to shift.
If it were before, Slytherin graduates would have had only two paths: one was to follow their family’s arrangements and learn and strive in family businesses. The drawback of this path was the difficulty in rising to prominence, as the wizarding world market resources were limited, and they were not all from direct lineage.
Except for guys like Draco Malfoy, who were the only child for generations and had no competitive pressure, most students with Pure-blood backgrounds essentially had a background but were still at the bottom within their families.
The other was to be admitted to the Ministry of Magic. The Ministry of Magic would annually vacate some positions to recruit graduates from Slytherin Academy.
This was a hidden rule born after the peaceful evolution of 1707. The Pure-bloods voluntarily disbanded the Witches’ Council, and the Ministry of Magic ruled the wizarding world. The Pure-bloods cooperated with the rule, and then shared some power, a win-win!
This path was also the mainstream choice for Slytherin graduates in the past.
Compared to sinking into family affairs and just getting by for the rest of their lives, the Ministry of Magic at least offered a chance for advancement.
However, now they had discovered a new option!
