Ch: 11-20
Chapter 11: The Magical World Has Far More Dangerous Things
The train slowly came to a stop, and the moment the carriage door opened, a biting night wind, carrying the scent of pine trees, rushed in.
The older students skillfully squeezed their way out, while the first-years fumbled, either bumping their heads or stepping on feet.
Signas and his two companions were caught in the crowd, and Pansy Parkinson's already displeased face was now wrinkled like a walnut.
The platform lights were dim, and a voice as loud as a bell cut through all the noise: "First-years! First-years over here! Hi, Harry, I see you!"
Signas looked in the direction of the voice and was instantly awestruck by a colossal figure.
The man was almost twice the height of an ordinary person, with a shock of messy black hair and a tangled beard that nearly covered his entire face. He carried a Giant lantern in his hand.
"Oh my goodness, is he the gamekeeper?" Pansy Parkinson whispered, full of disgust. "A half-Giant."
Signas ignored her and simply followed the large group, walking towards the Giant called Hagrid.
Hagrid led the anxious first-years down a dark, narrow, muddy, and slippery path.
Signas walked unsteadily, feeling as if the mud would swallow his shoes at any moment.
He couldn't help but mutter, "There's not even any lighting. If someone gets hurt, will the school cover the medical expenses?"
Pansy rolled her eyes so dramatically next to him that Sig was afraid her eyeballs would pop out.
The surrounding woods were pitch black, like spilled ink, and strange sounds occasionally echoed, making the atmosphere in the group even more tense.
"Where are we going?" a timid boy asked.
"We're almost there," Hagrid's voice came from the front, with a reassuringly honest tone. "The Black Lake is just ahead. Once we cross it by boat, you'll see Hogwarts!"
Just then, several elaborately decorated carriages passed by on another fork in the path, with older students chatting and laughing inside.
Signas looked down at his mud-soaked shoes, then at the smooth, wide road.
Finally, they arrived at an open lakeside. Dozens of small boats were quietly moored by the shore, and the Black Lake water, in the night, was unfathomably deep, as if it could swallow everything.
"Four people per boat!" Hagrid announced, beginning to organize everyone to board.
The first-years gathered around, both excited and nervous. Just then, a clear voice broke the commotion.
"Please wait!"
Everyone stopped and turned to look at the source of the voice—Cygnus Sharke. He had his hand raised, a worried expression on his face.
"Mr. Hagrid, I have a question," Signas began politely.
"What is it, child?" Hagrid, holding his lantern, bent down to look at him.
"I just saw the older students leaving in carriages," Signas said, pointing in the direction the carriages had disappeared, asking clearly, "Why do we first-years have to cross this unfathomably deep lake in these seemingly unsafe small boats, on such a dark, wet, and cold night?"
Hagrid was stunned; he had clearly never considered this question. He scratched his messy beard: "Uh... well... it's tradition! For hundreds of years, all first-years have crossed the Black Lake by boat to get their first glimpse of Hogwarts!"
"Tradition?" Signas nodded thoughtfully, then posed a second question, "With all due respect, this tradition sounds like a safety hazard. Most of us are only eleven years old, and many probably can't swim. There isn't even a life vest on the boat. If someone falls into the water, they'll freeze to death even if they don't drown. Does the school have an emergency plan? Are there professional rescue personnel? Have you received water rescue training? Are there dangerous magical creatures in the lake?"
A sudden silence fell. The Muggle-born Wizards showed expressions of agreement, while the students from Pure-blood families stared at him as if he were a monster.
This barrage of questions completely bewildered Hagrid. Life vest? Rescue training? Emergency plan? These words were too unfamiliar to him.
Hagrid stood with his mouth open, unable to utter a word for a long time.
"Why are you so troublesome!" Pansy finally lost her patience. "This is a Hogwarts tradition! You, a... Muggle-born, simply don't understand the Wizarding World!"
[resentment points from Pansy Parkinson +45!]
"Precisely because I don't understand, I need to ask for clarification," Signas said, spreading his hands with an innocent expression. "You only live once; it's always better to be cautious."
"Ha! Listen to him! I told you Mud... uh, Muggles don't understand anything!" a sharp voice rang out, as Draco Malfoy pushed his way through the crowd with his two cronies.
He sneered, "This is a Wizarding tradition! It's an honor! Something people like you will never understand!"
Sig looked around at the terrified or bewildered young Wizards and raised his voice: "I'm just being responsible for my life and the lives of my classmates on the same boat. Aren't you afraid? What if the boat overturns? Can Mr. Hagrid save all of us at once?"
These words made many children's faces turn pale. They looked at the dark lake water, then at the swaying small boats, and their hearts began to pound.
"He makes a lot of sense!" Hermione said, while pushing back her brown hair, which was messy from the night wind. "This is indeed very dangerous, isn't it?"
Harry looked at the small wooden boat, which could only accommodate four children, then at the inky Black Lake water, and nodded worriedly.
This feeling was similar to riding a bicycle without brakes down a cliff; one slip and it would be over.
"But... is it really that dangerous?" Ron, next to him, stared wide-eyed at his two new friends as if they were idiots.
Harry: "This isn't dangerous?"
Hermione: "Are you sure?"
Ron nodded very seriously: "Of course. The Magical World has far more dangerous things than this..."
Harry: "..."
Hermione: "..."
Seeing the situation gradually getting out of control, with first-years discussing animatedly and a few timid ones even starting to sob, Hagrid finally grew anxious. He couldn't let the first day of school be chaotic.
"Enough!" he roared in a thunderous voice, instantly silencing everyone. "This is the rule! Everyone, get on the boats immediately! These are Hogwarts' rules!"
[resentment points from Rubeus Hagrid +15!]
Hagrid's face was flushed red in the lamplight, and he waved his huge hands, trying to calm everyone: "The boat ride is absolutely safe! This is Hogwarts' most special experience! Hurry and get on board, or you'll miss the Sorting Ceremony!"
He practically half-pushed, half-persuaded the students onto the boats. The young Wizards dared not say more and timidly began to board.
Seeing this, Signas sighed lightly and resignedly prepared to board. Daphne Greengrass proactively extended an invitation: "Sig, come with us."
So Signas, Daphne, Pansy, and a trembling brown-haired boy squeezed into a small boat. The boat gently swayed with their movements, and the icy lake water almost spilled over the gunwales.
As soon as Pansy sat down, she moved as far away from Signas as possible, as if he had contracted some plague.
"Hmph, Muggles are such a bother," she grumbled softly.
Signas ignored her and looked down to check his system panel.
[resentment points from Rubeus Hagrid +18!]
[resentment points from Pansy Parkinson +5!]
[resentment points from Theodore Nott +7!]
[resentment points from Millicent Bulstrode +10!]
[resentment points from Blaise Zabini +11!]
"Everyone, sit tight! Let's go!" Hagrid shouted from the front boat.
The wooden boats, as if enchanted, glided automatically and smoothly towards the opposite shore of the lake.
At first, silence reigned, broken only by the gentle sound of oars cutting through the water. When the fleet rounded a bend, everyone gasped in admiration.
Ahead, Hogwarts Castle, perched atop a cliff, was revealed in its entirety for the first time.
Towers and spires outlined a magnificent silhouette against the starry sky, and windows glowed with warm light, like stars twinkling in the night.
That grand sight made all previous worries vanish into thin air.
Even Signas, who had been complaining, had to admit that the scene was truly breathtaking.
This damned sense of ritual indeed possessed a unique charm.
Finally, the small boats docked.
Signas was the first to jump ashore, stretching, then turning to smile at Daphne, who was still in a daze, and Pansy, who had a murderous look on her face: "Let's go, ladies. I hope the Sorting Ceremony doesn't have any more surprises."
Chapter 12: From Now On, We're in the Same House
Hagrid led the anxious first-years through the huge oak doors and into Hogwarts' magnificent entrance hall.
Leaping torchlight cast shadows on the ancient stone walls, and the high ceiling was lost in the gloom.
A solemn Witch, dressed in emerald green robes, stood silently before the stone steps.
Professor McGonagall's gaze swept over each young face with surgical precision.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," her voice was clear and stern. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin. You will be sorted into four Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. For the next seven years, your House will be your home at Hogwarts."
"Your daily conduct will directly affect your House points — excellence will earn your House honor, while breaking school rules will bring your House loss..."
She paused, her eyes suddenly sharpening. "If anyone breaks the rules, I will not tolerate it."
"The Sorting Ceremony is extremely important to you. Please remain quiet and tidy up your appearance before the ceremony begins."
With that, she turned and walked through a nearby door, leaving behind a group of first-years exchanging nervous glances, their hearts pounding.
As soon as she left, the oppressive atmosphere was instantly broken, and whispers rose like a tide.
Every batch of Hogwarts students seemed to tacitly keep the Sorting Ceremony a secret, which now filled the first-years with wild guesses, chattering incessantly.
Daphne whispered nervously, wondering if the sorting required drinking some kind of Potion.
Signas suddenly asked, "Which House do you hope to be in?"
"Slytherin, of course!" Daphne's tone was shy but firm. "My entire family graduated from Slytherin. They all expect me to continue this tradition."
Signas, who grew up in the Muggle world, couldn't fully comprehend this almost familial devotion.
"Sig, have you decided which House you want to go to?" Daphne asked in return.
"Not yet," Signas shrugged, admitting frankly, "If possible, I hope to go to Slytherin. My first impression of Professor Snape was very good, and I heard he is the Dean of Slytherin."
Pansy, who had been silent, suddenly interjected stiffly, "You can't, because Slytherin only accepts Pure-blood students!"
"Why? Does the Sorting require checking one's family tree?" Signas was puzzled.
Daphne frowned slightly: "Of course not. According to 'Hogwarts: A History,' Gryffindor values courage, Hufflepuff cherishes integrity and kindness, Slytherin favors ambition and cunning, and Ravenclaw values knowledge and wisdom..."
"But strangely, so far, no Muggle-born students seem to have been sorted into Slytherin... so it's generally believed that only Pure-bloods can enter Slytherin!"
"Then how does the school identify new students?"
Daphne and Pansy exchanged glances, clearly they knew nothing about this either... Just then, more than twenty pearl-white, translucent ghosts suddenly phased through the wall and floated over the first-years' heads. Most of the first-years shrank their necks in fright.
"Look, it's The Bloody Baron!" Daphne exclaimed in a low voice, pointing to a gaunt ghost with silver bloodstains on his robes.
Signas, however, looked up with interest, even waving at a passing Headless Knight, his gaze fixed on the spot where the other's neck should be, his face full of curiosity.
Sir Nicholas was visibly stunned for a moment, then symbolically raised his hand in response.
[resentment points from Nearly Headless Nick +1!]
Signas: "?" This can also happen?
Professor McGonagall soon returned. "We are ready, follow me."
She led the first-years through the entrance hall and into the magnificent Great Hall.
Hundreds of floating candles brightly illuminated the four House tables, and the enchanted ceiling displayed a starry night sky.
"This ceiling is enchanted," Daphne whispered to Signas, "My mother said it accurately reflects the weather outside."
"That's cool," Signas nodded in agreement.
At the front of the Great Hall stood a four-legged stool, on which rested a tattered, patched, pointed Wizard's hat. The entire hall fell silent.
Suddenly, a rip near the brim of the hat opened like a mouth and began to sing loudly.
The song was hoarse and unpleasant, and the lyrics lacked any rhythm, mainly consisting of self-introduction and recruitment pitches for each House.
Signas kept digging his ears. At this level, if someone heard it outside, they'd probably get beaten up.
"Now, I will call out your names one by one," Professor McGonagall unrolled a parchment. "Those whose names are called, please step forward and put on the hat."
"Hannah Abbott!"
A rosy-faced girl with two golden braids stumbled forward and put on the hat.
As soon as the hat covered her eyes, it shouted: "Hufflepuff!"
The Hufflepuff table erupted in enthusiastic applause.
Soon it was Daphne's turn. "Greengrass, Daphne!"
The little Witch nervously stepped forward, and the hat barely touched her blonde hair before shouting: "Slytherin!"
She let out a sigh of relief, cast an encouraging glance at Signas, and hurried towards the Slytherintable.
Next was Draco, and the hat made its decision in a flash, allowing him to proudly join the ranks of Slytherin.
Subsequently, Hermione and Ron were predictably sorted into Gryffindor.
Pansy Parkinson was also sorted into Slytherin. As she sat down, she didn't forget to cast a provocative glance at Signas, her lips clearly forming the words: "Don't even think about it."
When Professor McGonagall called out "Harry Potter," the entire Great Hall instantly erupted. Harryput on the hat under everyone's gaze, followed by a long silence.
"Most people are quick, but when it comes to Harry Potter, the hat needs to think more?" Signasmumbled to himself.
A few minutes later, the hat finally announced loudly: "Gryffindor!" The Gryffindor table immediately burst into thunderous applause.
"Cygnus Sharke!"
Finally, it was his turn.
Signas calmly stepped forward under everyone's curious gaze, grabbed the greasy hat, and placed it on his head.
At the staff table, Dumbledore, Flitwick, Sprout, and other Professors were leisurely eating, and only Snape and Quirrell were drawn to the name.
Snape's calm, dark eyes were fixed on Signas.
And Quirrell's eyes churned with much more complex emotions!
[resentment points from Quirrell +99!]
[resentment points from Quirrell +99!]
[resentment points from Quirrell +99!]
The three sudden messages startled Signas, and the Sorting Hat almost slipped off his head.
He didn't expect Professor Quirrell to give him such a warm greeting at this moment.
"Oh, an interesting little fellow." A faint voice echoed in his mind.
The Sorting Hat felt that this student's thoughts were unusually complex!
"Slytherin's ambition, yes. Gryffindor's recklessness, also yes. Ravenclaw's cleverness, plenty. As for Hufflepuff... er, a little, but not much..."
Sig raised an eyebrow.
"What does 'a little, but not much' mean?"
"Oh, perhaps you didn't hear what I sang clearly, that's alright, I'll sing it for you individually — 'Perhaps you belong in Hufflepuff, where they are just and loyal...'
Sig: "..."
The Sorting Hat continued singing in his mind: "'They are patient and true... not afraid of toil...'
After the Sorting Hat finished singing with a straight face, Sig pouted and asked, "Has anyone ever complimented your singing before?"
The Sorting Hat's voice sounded a little wronged: "Unfortunately, no!"
"Then why do you still sing!"
Sorting Hat: "???"
[resentment points from Sorting Hat +2!]
One minute.
Two minutes.
Three minutes.
A full ten minutes passed... Time ticked by, and the Great Hall had gone from whispering to dead silence.
Everyone stared at the motionless first-year, and even the Professors showed surprised expressions, another difficult sorting!
Dumbledore subconsciously glanced at Professor McGonagall.
Minerva McGonagall's sorting had taken over five minutes back then.
This meant that Sig possessed multiple distinct traits... Draco's eyes at the Slytherin table gleamed with excitement, he thought viciously that if the Sorting Hat finally said Sig had no magic talent and just kicked him out, that would be great!
Suddenly, the hat used all its might and roared out the House that stunned everyone in the Great Hall:
"Slytherin! It can only be Slytherin!"
Draco's sneer instantly froze, turning into shock and bewilderment, and finally completely blank, as if he had encountered a system crash.
Pansy Parkinson's mouth was wide enough to fit an entire chocolate frog.
Daphne was first dumbfounded, then her face lit up with joy!
But the entire Great Hall was deathly silent.
All smiles at the Slytherin table froze.
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +99!]
[resentment points from Pansy Parkinson +77!]
Signas took off the hat, casually placed it on the stool, and, facing countless startled gazes, strode directly towards the green table.
He ignored the looks of disgust, shock, and incomprehension, and leisurely sat down in the empty seat next to Draco.
He turned his head and gave the petrified Draco a brilliant smile.
"Hi, from now on, we're classmates in the same House..."
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +99!]
Chapter 13 – First Night at School, My Roommate Gave Me Ten Pulls
The Sorting Ceremony had finally ended.
Dumbledore stepped to the front of the Great Hall.
As his speech ended with the words "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!", the previously empty plates in front of everyone filled with all kinds of delicious food.
Hogwarts' welcome feast had begun!
At the Slytherin table, Sig nodded enthusiastically after hearing that classic closing line and then started eating.
"What do those words mean?" Daphne leaned over, asking curiously.
Sig stuffed a chicken leg into his mouth and mumbled, "I-it means we can eat!"
"Oh, so that's what it means. But what kind of writing is that? Ancient Runes?" Admiration shone in Daphne's eyes.
Even though her family was an old Pure-blood line, they didn't understand the meaning of those obscure words.
Several seats away, Draco Malfoy, despite looking thoroughly disgusted, couldn't help pricking up his ears.
"I don't know…"
"You don't know?" Daphne asked in confusion. "Then how do you know it means we can eat?"
Sig finished the chicken leg, took a sip of juice, and said in surprise, "Because once those closing words were spoken, the food appeared. Isn't the meaning obvious?"
Daphne was speechless, her face full of exasperation.
Malfoy turned away in disgust.
[resentment points from Daphne Greengrass +5!]
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +15!]
After dinner came the school song.
At the staff table, the Professors wore varied expressions.
There was Quirrell, wrapped in a thick turban; the plainly dressed Sprout; the short but kindly Flitwick… and the expressionless Snape. After glancing at Sig a few times, he turned his attention to the savior, Harry.
Once the feast ended, it was time for bed.
All the students, led by their prefects, headed in different directions back to their dormitories.
The Slytherin group descended a long spiral staircase of stone and arrived at a stone wall.
Along the way, the prefect stressed school rules, the importance of House points, and the honor of competing for the House Cup.
"The password is 'Circumspection'," Prefect Fabian Hogg said, lifting his chin so high the first-years could almost see only his nostrils. "That word is also a Slytherin virtue—remember it!"
After the password was spoken, the wall parted to reveal a spacious Common Room lit by torches on the walls and a fireplace.
Through the windows of the Common Room one could see the lake outside, and even unknown water creatures swimming past.
Clearly, the Slytherin dormitories were at the bottom of the Black Lake.
The dormitory was large, with four tall four-poster beds; the drapes, quilts, and covers were all green and decorated with Slytherin's emblem, a silver serpent!
Draco's face was dark as he snarled, "Prefect, why are we in the same dormitory as him?"
Prefect Fabian Hogg adjusted his glasses, his gaze moving between Draco Malfoy's flushed face and Cygnus Sharke's calm one.
"Draco," Fabian said evenly, "Shalk was Sorted into Slytherin, so he's a Slytherin. There's a bed for him in this dormitory."
"But he's Muggle-born!" Draco shrieked.
"That's for the Sorting Hat to decide, not you or me." Fabian then turned to Signas with a warning tone, "Shalk, in Slytherin, if you don't cause trouble for prefects, prefects won't cause trouble for you. Understand?"
Signas asked curiously, "Does the school allow attacking classmates?"
The prefect pursed his lips. "In Slytherin, strength is the rule!"
Then, looking as if enjoying a joke, he added, "So, kid, remember to behave and respect the strong—it'll help you survive in Slytherin…"
Without another word, Fabian finished his instructions and left the dormitory.
The moment the door closed, Draco's handsome face twisted completely.
He whirled on Signas, Crabbe and Goyle at once moving to flank him, the three forming a semicircle that trapped Signas—who was making his bed—in the corner.
"Listen up, mudblood," Draco snarled, wand almost touching Signas's nose. "Here, I'm in charge. Now, clean the floor—immediately!"
Signas finished arranging his pillow, even patting it to make it fluffier.
He looked up at Draco and asked with sincere curiosity, "Why? Because your face is paler or because you use more hair gel?"
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +66!]
"You asked for it!" Draco exploded. "Crabbe! Goyle! Teach him Slytherin's rules!"
Watching the two chubby boys crack their knuckles and advance, Signas sighed and drew his yew wand.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Invisible magic instantly filled the dormitory.
Draco and his cronies felt their clothes tug and were yanked into the air, suspended.
Smack!
A heavy textbook slammed into Draco's face.
"Aaaargh—!"
Shrieks echoed through the room. Without pausing, Signas sent books and pillows flying; each strike flashed new resentment points in his mind.
The two henchmen didn't escape either.
Soon the room rang with continuous yells.
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +99!]
[resentment points from Vincent Crabbe +99!]
[resentment points from Gregory Goyle +99!]
When Signas finally stopped, Draco sobbed, "I'll tell my father! You'll be expelled!"
Smack!
Another hit.
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +99!]
…Smack!
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +99!]
…Smack!
Under the repeated "lessons," Draco finally broke and begged, "I was wrong! Let me down, Shalk, please…"
With eleven-year-olds, reasoning is useless, but a solid beating teaches them all the logic they need.
Still don't get it?
Then beat them a few more times.
After more than twenty swats, Sig realized he had stored enough resentment points for a ten-pull.
He stepped closer, twirling his wand. "See? Now we can have a proper talk—about dormitory rules."
He stopped in front of Draco and tapped the boy's stomach with his wand.
"Rule one: no one touches my bed except me."
Draco nodded stiffly.
"Rule two: from now on, I'm in charge in this dormitory. When you speak to me, use a respectful form of address…"
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +99!]
Draco's face turned liver-colored, but seeing the hovering book he swallowed his pride and nodded again.
"Excellent." Signas withdrew his wand. "Finally, to compensate for the fright I just suffered and to repair our 'fragile' roommate friendship, I think you should show some sincerity."
His gaze landed on the bulging money-pouch at Draco's waist.
"Today's incident—fifty Galleons and we'll pretend it never happened. How does that sound?"
"You… that's blackmail!" Draco finally exploded.
"No, no, no," Signas wagged a finger. "It's compensation for emotional distress. And look—I'm discussing it with you, no coercion at all."
He released Crabbe and Goyle from where they were pinned to the bedframe; both slumped to the floor, legs too weak to stand.
"You three should also understand," Signas looked around at the terrified boys, "as our prefect said so well: in Slytherin, strength is the rule. If your strength falls short, you must know how to judge the hour and size up the situation… got it?"
"Got it!"
The three shouted in unison, afraid that answering too quietly would earn them another beating.
Their hatred was buried deep, but for now, submission was their only choice…
Chapter 14: ten-draw in the Dorm
In the dorm room, four-poster beds, each draped with green curtains, occupied a corner.
Draco Malfoy and his two cronies had their heads tightly covered with blankets, revealing only three pairs of eyes that gleamed with resentment in the dim light, fixed on the fourth bed across the room.
Signas seemed completely oblivious to their almost palpable stares. He unhurriedly emptied a heavy money pouch onto his bedsheet, and Galleons clinked, rolling out one by one.
"One, two... fifty. Not one less."
He put the gold coins back into the pouch, deliberately tossing and catching it lightly in the air, listening to the crisp clinking sound that was exceptionally clear in the silent dorm room.
"Sigh, still too little," he muttered to himself, his voice not loud, but enough for the others to hear. "I should have asked for more. After all, shouldn't the face of our esteemed Pure-blood young master be worth at least a hundred Galleons?"
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +99!]
[resentment points from Vincent Crabbe +44!]
[resentment points from Gregory Goyle +44!]
Listening to the continuous notifications in his mind, Signas lay down contentedly on the four-poster bed, propping his legs up comfortably.
With a slight thought, a translucent panel visible only to him appeared before his eyes.
Thanks to the efforts of the Malfoy trio, the total amount of resentment points had accumulated to a considerable number.
This was inseparable from the strong support of Young Master Malfoy and his friends!
He was even reluctant to be friends with Young Master Malfoy; he had to find a way to maintain their hostile relationship!
Presumably, Draco Malfoy was thinking the same thing at this moment.
"System, open the Lucky Spin! My luck is good today, I must go for a big one!"
[Boss, it is detected that your resentment points are sufficient for a 'Ten Consecutive Wishes'! Order now, guaranteed rare item, single draw for a miracle! Do you confirm?]
"Confirm, confirm! ten-draw, it must be ten-draw!" Signas rubbed his hands, already imagining himself wielding Avada Kedavra in his left hand and Fiendfyre in his right, swaggering through Hogwarts.
[resentment points -10000! Ten Consecutive Wishes activated! Good luck, my unlucky boss!]
Signas: "?"
Why do I feel like you're insulting me?
A giant virtual roulette unfolded before Signas's eyes, and the pointer spun rapidly.
The Draco trio only saw Signas staring at the air, his expression constantly changing—at one moment expectant, at another blank—as if he were under some evil curse.
"Ding!"
First draw.
[Congratulations, Host! You have drawn the reward—Lockhart's Autographed Photo (with lip print) x1!]
A photo appeared out of thin air in Signas's hand. The smiling blond man on it kept winking at him, and there was a bright red lip print in the corner. Signas's hand trembled, almost dropping it.
"Ding!" Second draw.
[Congratulations, Host! You have drawn the reward—Filch's Cat Food (half-bag remaining) x1!]
A faint fishy smell wafted over. Signas's face began to turn green.
"Ding!" "Ding!" "Ding!"
[Congratulations, Host! You have drawn the reward—Hagrid's rock cakes Making Tutorial (incomplete version) x1!]
[Congratulations, Host! You have drawn the reward—Peeves's Secondhand Stink Bombs x3!]
[Congratulations, Host! You have drawn the reward—Umbridge's Pink Bow Hair Clip x1!]
Signas looked at the pile of junk in his System space and felt speechless. He didn't even dare to look at that last pink hair clip, feeling that one more glance would blind him.
Although Draco didn't know what was happening, when he saw the look on Signas's face, as if he had eaten excrement, his heart immediately bloomed with joy.
Serves him right! He must have suffered a backlash from some evil curse!
The roulette continued to spin, followed by three more white lights that held no surprises.
[Congratulations, Host! You have drawn the reward—Cornelius Fudge's Original Underwear x1!]
It came, it finally came! Signas closed his eyes, feeling a wave of despair wash over him.
[Congratulations, Host! You have drawn the reward—troll boogers x1!]
[Congratulations, Host! You have drawn the reward—House-elf's Multi-purpose Rag x1!]
Looking at the drab, suspiciously odorous rag, Signas had lost all desire to live.
Nine out of ten draws were trash, and one was just to make up the numbers.
Gamblers, indeed, never come to a good end.
Just as he was about to tearfully pack up this pile of garbage and throw it away, the light from the final draw was different.
It was a dazzling blue light!
"Ding—!"
A long and magnificent sound effect rang out, almost blowing the top of Signas's head off.
[Congratulations, Host! Bottom-line mechanism triggered! You have drawn a high-quality rare reward—'An Actor's Self-Cultivation (Dark Arts Disguise Limited Edition)']!
A book with a black cover and a heavy texture lay quietly atop the pile of junk, like a crane among chickens.
Signas froze for half a second, then suddenly sat up and materialized the book into his hand.
[ 'An Actor's Self-Cultivation (Dark Arts Disguise Limited Edition)': Special skill book. After use, the Host can perfectly simulate the casting prelude, incantation sound effects, and visual light and shadow of all known Dark Arts, but the actual effects are harmless entertainment magic (farting, diarrhea, pants dropping, dancing, cramping). Note: This skill consumes a huge amount of mental energy, please use with extreme caution!!]
Signas held the hardcover book, his emotions complex for a moment.
What kind of magic is this?
"Performance Charm"?
Isn't this the legendary ultimate evolved version of "as long as I'm not embarrassed, others are embarrassed"—"as long as I look awesome, others will think I'm awesome"?
In Slytherin, a place that values strength and where the weak are preyed upon, it just makes me *look* very awesome?!
Late at night, the Slytherin dorm room was silent, with only the faint crackling of the remaining embers in the fireplace.
Draco Malfoy lay on his bed, eyes wide open, unable to sleep.
The humiliation on the train, the beating and extortion in the dorm room just now, replayed in his mind.
The thought of having to obey a mudblood in the dorm from now on, and possibly even wash his socks, made Draco tremble with rage.
He, the heir of the Malfoy Family, had never suffered such a monstrous disgrace!
He turned his head slightly, looking towards the bed in the corner. Signas's breathing was steady and long, seemingly fast asleep.
He immediately felt an opportunity.
Impulse instantly took over his brain!
A lowly mudblood dared to treat him like this!
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +99!]
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +99!]
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +99!]
"Crabbe! Goyle! Wake up!" Malfoy hissed in a whisper, his voice squeezed from his throat.
The two chubby boys groggily poked their heads out from under the blankets.
"What is it, Draco?" Goyle asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes.
"Revenge!" Malfoy squeezed out two words through gritted teeth. "You go grab his wand, then the three of us will teach him a lesson he'll never forget!"
Crabbe immediately became excited, cracking his knuckles. But Goyle seemed a bit hesitant: "But... won't that cause trouble?"
Chapter 15 – The Killing Curse? No, the Diarrhea Hex
"Trouble?" Malfoy sneered, his face screaming are-you-stupid. "My father's on the Hogwarts Board! You think Dumbledore would dare expel me? Even if the sky fell, my father would hold it up! What are you afraid of?"
He lowered his voice, dripping with provocation: "Think about the humiliation we suffered today! Can you swallow it? We're Purebloods—are we going to let a mudblood ride roughshod over us? For the next four years, are we going to live according to his whims?"
Spurred on by Malfoy, the three slipped out of bed, wands clenched, gliding like shadows toward Signas's cot.
Signas's breathing was slow and even—he seemed fast asleep.
A cruel triumph flashed across Draco's face as he slowly raised his wand at the vague outline beneath the quilt.
He'd already worked it out in his head: hit hard first, then torment him with spells until dawn!
Just as the incantation was about to leave his lips, the figure on the bed snapped his eyes open.
Those black eyes blazed in the gloom—not a trace of drowsiness, only icy alertness.
All three Malfoys flinched so hard their wands nearly flew from their hands.
"Up so late—come to tuck me in?" Signas's voice was soft, yet it made all three shudder.
"Y-you weren't asleep?" Malfoy's voice trembled uncontrollably.
"With flies buzzing in my ear, how could I?" Signas unhurriedly drew his yew wand.
He didn't even rise, merely lounged against the headboard, surveying them with the look one gives idiots.
Then he performed an action the trio would never forget.
With a sharp, precise flick of the wrist, a cold, crystal-clear word—carrying a hellish chill—cut through the silence:
"Avada Kedavra!"
The voice wasn't loud, yet it stabbed like ice needles into their bones.
The next instant, a green light—darker and colder than the depths of the Black Lake—burst from his wand-tip. That ghastly glare drenched the dorm in eerie viridian. Accompanied by a soul-rending shriek, the light shot like a viper straight at the three.
It… it was an Unforgivable—the Killing Curse!
Draco's mind went blank. He'd grown up hearing his father describe this spell; he knew what the green light meant—irreversible, instant death!
How dare he? How could he?
Terror clamped Draco's throat; his brain crashed, body frozen. A warm flood soaked his expensive silk pyjamas, the sharp stench spreading fast.
Beside him, Crabbe and Goyle were petrified. Their legs buckled and they plopped to the floor, faces a mess of tears and snot, unable even to scream.
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +99!]
[resentment points from Vincent Crabbe +99!]
[resentment points from Gregory Goyle +99!]
…the green light struck them squarely.
Then… one second, two, three.
Nothing happened.
Malfoy, shaking, patted his chest—intact. Crabbe and Goyle, though ashen and sodden, were definitely alive.
"W-we're not dead?" Crabbe stammered.
First blank, then a tidal wave of shame and rage swept over Draco.
He understood!
They'd been duped!
Exactly!
A first-year casting an Unforgivable? Impossible.
With Sig's puny magic, even if he managed it, it'd only make you sneeze—yet Draco had wet himself in fright!
The thought that a mere bluff had made him piss his pants sent blood roaring to Draco's head.
"Y-you dared trick me!" Draco shrieked hysterically, eyes bloodshot. "Crabbe! Goyle! Don't fall for it! He's just bluffing!"
Fury rekindled, Draco lifted his wand again, desperate to regain control. "Get him! Disarm him, then we'll—"
Before he could finish, an odd sound interrupted.
"Gurgle… gurrrgle…"
A soft yet unmistakable intestinal rumble came from his own belly.
Malfoy froze for a heartbeat, then ignored it. He stepped forward, determined to lead.
"Pfffft—!"
A long, sonorous blast erupted behind him.
The note soared, slid from treble to bass, ending in a blunt "blorp."
The air in the dorm congealed.
Then an indescribable stench—rotten eggs mingled with aged cheese—rolled in like an invisible tide, stuffing every corner.
Time seemed to stop.
Signas raised an eyebrow.
Crabbe and Goyle, frozen mid-charge, stared back at their leader in disbelief.
Malfoy's face, at that moment, was whiter than his platinum hair; his own body had betrayed him, leaving his mind blank.
"Ugh…" Goyle gagged first.
"I… I didn't…" Draco tried to explain.
"Pff-pff-pff!"
This time it was a duet.
Crabbe's and Goyle's sphincters surrendered simultaneously; two equally forceful notes joined the obscene symphony.
"Pfft!"
"Pfft!"
"Pfft-pfft!"
"Pfft-pfft-pfft!"
Now, any attempt to attack merely provoked louder protests from their guts.
All stored anger and strength gushed away with each uncontrollable "pfft."
Draco finally realized something was wrong.
Before he could work it out, the gurgle in his belly surged into a churning cramp.
An overwhelming, tsunami-like urge to relieve himself crashed against their last line of defence!
All three stiffened, faces showing the terror of Armageddon.
They exchanged a glance: it's… it's coming!
"Toilet!" Draco hissed through clenched teeth, legs clamped, waddling frantically toward the door.
Crabbe and Goyle scrambled after him, sprinting and rolling down the corridor toward the bathroom.
Behind their fleeing, dishevelled figures trailed a despairing chorus of "pfft-pfft-rip."
Signas rubbed his temples, weary. He opened the window to let the cold night air cleanse the stench.
"Told you," he murmured after their retreating backs, "know when to back off."
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +99!]
[resentment points from Vincent Crabbe +99!]
[resentment points from Gregory Goyle +99!]
…the system's chimes rang crisp and clear all night long.
Chapter 16: When in Doubt, Go to Snape
At dawn the next day, when the first ray of light filtered through the murky green water of the Black Lake and slipped into the Slytherin dormitory window, the whole room reeked of an indescribable, all-night ferment of odors.
Signas was already up and immaculate, leaning gracefully against the headboard while paging through One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.
The dormitory door creaked open and three gaunt, bloodless figures shuffled in, propping one another up like reanimated corpses.
Draco Malfoy's normally pristine platinum hair now clung limply to his sweat-damp forehead.
His already pale face bore a sickly, ashen hue; he looked as if he'd shrunk a full size, eyes sunken, legs splayed so wide he seemed to have just dismounted a particularly vicious Hippogriff.
Crabbe and Goyle fared no better. The two burly lumps now resembled sponges wrung dry, draped weakly over Malfoy to form a tottering, living Chinese character for "miserable."
Signas finally lifted his gaze from the book, regarded them with concern, and offered a cheerful, "Good morning, roommates. Sleep well?"
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +99!]
[resentment points from Vincent Crabbe +99!]
[resentment points from Gregory Goyle +99!]
Thus the new day began to the crisp chime of resentment points—an auspicious omen indeed.
The trio stiffened, their eyes a mix of dread, loathing, and utter helplessness.
Their lips moved, but no sound came out.
What could they say? That all three had spent the entire night crouched in a toilet, purged to husks, until Argus Filch himself had been called?
Their dignity was gone for good.
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +99!]
[resentment points from Vincent Crabbe +99!]
[resentment points from Gregory Goyle +99!]
The very thought deepened their resentment toward Signas another notch.
At breakfast, when Signas stepped into the Great Hall, the atmosphere at the Slytherin table felt distinctly odd.
Nearly every gaze drifted toward him and then flicked quickly away.
A Muggle-born sorted into Slytherin.
That alone was headline news.
Ignoring the stares, Signas sat down beside Daphne Greengrass.
Pansy Parkinson flinched as if stung, picked up her plate, and relocated eight seats away.
"Morning, Sig," Daphne whispered, huge eyes sparkling with curiosity. "You… last night… are you all right?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Signas poured himself pumpkin juice and answered matter-of-factly, "I slept like a log."
Daphne choked on her reply, glancing at the parchment-pale Malfoy and saying no more.
Hogwarts' first-year timetable was hardly grueling: eight subjects in total, sometimes only one class a day, rarely more than two.
Monday morning happened to be free.
Back at the Slytherin table, the trio were hollow-eyed from hunger and exhaustion.
Draco prodded a strip of bacon with his fork; the memory of last night brought tears to his eyes, and the thought of seven years of this made the bacon taste of salt.
Just then Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott strolled up.
Seeing the three death-mask faces, Theodore Nott hesitated.
"Well, Draco, rough night?" Nott's tone carried its usual sneer.
Zabini and Nott came from old pure-blood families that moved in the same circles as the Malfoys; the Nott ancestor had even compiled the pure-blood directory.
Draco quickly schooled his expression, forcing back the tears, and Crabbe and Goyle did the same.
This wasn't merely a matter of keeping family shame private; they absolutely could not let these "pure-blood brothers" learn that a mudblood had thrashed them and left them to spend the night in a toilet.
If word got out, Nott would mock him until graduation, forever flaunting the airs of an ancient noble thanks to his ancestor's book.
Goyle, quick on his feet, offered, "First night at school—we were just excited and couldn't sleep."
Theodore Nott curled his lip, muttered something like "pathetic," and sat down to eat.
"Don't you just hate him? If it weren't for Signas, I'd teach him a lesson right now," Draco muttered, watching Nott's back.
All because your ancestor wrote a book? Who made you king of the Wizards?
Draco snorted. "Forget him. Right now we need a plan to get rid of that bastard Signas!"
Crabbe and Goyle nodded eagerly.
Perhaps because last night's purge had left them hollow, their resentment burned hotter.
After breakfast they retreated to the common room, found a corner, and plotted.
"How about we jump him?" Crabbe suggested. "Grab his wand and he's a toothless tiger."
"He sensed it coming last night," Goyle objected. "If he gets off even one spell we're finished. That freakish curse of his is nastier than anything a Dark Wizard could cook up…"
The memory of the green flash made all three shudder; for an instant Signas had looked more Slytherinthan the lot of them.
"We could use magical artifacts," Draco said darkly. "My family has some old Dark items, potent stuff…"
"B-but what if we're caught? Headmaster Dumbledore hates Dark Arts," Goyle stammered. "If he finds Dark objects in the castle we'll be expelled for sure…"
Draco fell silent; he knew Goyle was right.
Everyone knew Dumbledore loathed Dark magic; being a governor's son wouldn't save him.
Signas would remain at Hogwarts, free and easy, while the three of them would be packing their trunks.
"Then… we go to our Head of House, Professor Snape," Draco said at last, convinced he'd hit on a brilliant plan.
"The Professor? You think he'd help?" Goyle asked doubtfully.
"Of course," Draco replied with perfect confidence. "He and our fathers were old 'colleagues,' thick as thieves. He'll sort Signas out for us…"
Goyle blinked. "Your dad used to teach here?"
Draco shook his head. "No—they were both once favorites of You-Know-Who…"
Chapter 17: The Slytherin Overachiever
On Tuesday at Hogwarts Castle, the stairs were exceptionally lively.
They changed direction at will, causing students rushing to Transfiguration Class to complain endlessly. Even though the classroom was just across the hallway, the steps beneath their feet would turn the other way—by the time they circled back, fifteen minutes had passed.
"Are these stairs specifically targeting freshmen?" Daphne leaned against a stone wall, panting slightly.
Sig was quite composed; he had long since learned the Castle's temperament, having nearly been late for History of Magic Class yesterday due to the stairs' pranks. So this time, he made a point of dragging Daphne along to set out twenty minutes early.
When the two entered the Transfiguration classroom, there weren't many people yet; clearly, most were trapped in the constantly moving stairwells.
On the podium, a tabby cat sat upright, scrutinizing every student who entered with its sharp eyes.
Sig recognized it at a glance as Professor McGonagall. Because Professor McGonagall was an Animagus who could transform herself into a cat.
But Sig had no interest in exposing this disguise; he just quietly found a seat with Daphne and sat down, waiting for class to begin.
One after another, Shabini, Theodore Nott, Pansy, and others arrived.
As the school bell echoed in the classroom, the notoriously strict Professor McGonagall had yet to appear. Just then, the classroom door swung open with a "clatter," and three figures rushed in as if fleeing for their lives.
"Finally... not late!" Goyle leaned on his knees and gasped for air as soon as he entered, his face full of relief. They had rushed all the way from Snape's underground office, which was no short distance.
Draco looked up and saw that the back rows were already full, leaving only empty seats in front of the podium. He quickly led Crabbe and Goyle to their seats.
Crabbe wiped the sweat from his forehead, looked around, and seeing no one on the podium, his courage suddenly grew.
"I told you we didn't need to run so fast!" he complained gruffly. "These damn stairs are really cursed! I didn't expect even the Professor to be late!"
As he spoke, he let out a simple-minded grin, thinking he was being clever.
Before his voice had even faded, the tabby cat on the podium leaped up gracefully.
In mid-air, the cat's form rapidly stretched and changed, eventually turning into a stern-faced Witchwearing square glasses, who landed silently behind Crabbe.
The entire classroom instantly became so quiet that one could hear a quill drop.
Sig almost burst out laughing. He looked at Crabbe as if he were a hero, thinking to himself, "Wow, directly challenging the Professor—that's a path I never even imagined!"
However, Crabbe's two companions didn't respond. Draco and Goyle froze in their seats, cold sweat trickling down their temples.
"Draco, what's wrong? Am I wrong?" Crabbe, completely unaware of the change in atmosphere, asked foolishly, "Look, it wouldn't have mattered if we were even later; the Professor is later than us anyway..."
"Perhaps," a cold and stern voice rang out in Crabbe's ear, "Mr. Crabbe, next time you could negotiate with the Castle's stairs in advance to leave a bit more time for me, this 'late' Professor?"
Crabbe's body instantly petrified. He turned his neck stiffly, inch by inch, and came face-to-face with Professor McGonagall, who was less than half a foot away.
There was no expression on that face, but the surrounding air seemed to drop ten degrees.
"Pfft."
Someone couldn't hold it in first, and then the entire classroom erupted into a burst of suppressed laughter. Crabbe's face turned the color of pig liver, and he wished he could find a hole to crawl into.
Professor McGonagall said nothing more; she walked up to the podium and surveyed the room.
"Transfiguration is one of the most complex and dangerous types of magic in all of Hogwarts. Any student fooling around in my class will leave immediately and will not be coming back."
Her opening remarks brought the laughter in the classroom to an abrupt halt.
"Today, you will be learning to turn a match into a needle."
While explaining the spell incantations and key points, she lightly tapped the match on her desk with her wand. That tiny wooden stick instantly turned into a sharp, silver-glowing steel needle.
"Now, it's your turn."
The young Wizards immediately became excited, picking up their wands one after another, pointing them at the matches in front of them, and beginning to recite the incantations.
"Change!"
"Change! Change for me!"
However, Transfiguration was clearly not as simple as imagined. Most people's matches just twitched on the table or emitted a puff of choking black smoke; some even set their matches on fire.
Draco Malfoy's face turned red as he muttered under his breath, but his match showed no movement other than turning slightly darker in color.
Theodore Nott, sitting not far from him, also had a solemn look, but his results were equally poor.
The Hufflepuff side was even worse; the dozen or so Little Badgers were honest, kind, and diligent, but they lacked strong magical talent, and as a whole, they were inferior to the Little Snakes of Slytherin.
At this moment, Sig smiled.
After listening to Professor McGonagall's explanation, the Transfiguration Spell (Elementary) skill appeared in his system, with a skill cap of level 100.
Thanks to the resentment points contributed by Draco Malfoy, Sig consumed two thousand resentment points in one go, raising the Elementary Transfiguration Spell to level 20.
Instantly, a massive amount of knowledge, experience, and memory flooded into Sig's mind.
Sig picked up his wand but didn't rush to cast the spell.
Following the skill's logic in his mind, he clearly constructed every detail of a needle: its length, its material, the sharpness of the tip, and the eye at the end.
Then, he raised his wand, tapped lightly, and uttered a clear word.
With a soft "pop," the match in front of him disappeared, replaced by a flawless silver steel needle lying quietly on the tabletop.
The whole process was smooth and fluid, incredibly fast.
"Merlin..."
Daphne, sitting next to him, was the first to discover this miracle, covering her mouth and letting out a low gasp of surprise.
She hadn't expected Sig to succeed on his first try, and the result was exactly the same as Professor McGonagall's demonstration.
This gasp wasn't loud in the noisy classroom, but it successfully attracted everyone's attention.
Pair after pair of eyes turned in unison toward Sig's desk.
Draco, who had thought he was ahead in progress, was so shocked his jaw nearly dropped; his wand slipped, turning his match into a piece of charred charcoal.
Theodore Nott stopped casting and stared fixedly at the needle, his face, which usually wore Pure-blood arrogance, twitching slightly.
Pansy Parkinson's mouth fell open, forgetting that she had just wanted to ask Draco for advice.
Even those Hufflepuff students, who were usually indifferent to competition, whispered among themselves in disbelief; this performance was more Ravenclaw than Ravenclaw itself.
Professor McGonagall walked over quickly; she picked up the needle and examined it closely before her eyes.
"A perfect transformation... the tip is sharp, the body is smooth, and even the eye is impeccable." She rarely showed a hint of approval. "Mr. Signas, for your exemplary spellcasting, ten points to Slytherin."
The second half of the afternoon class became a torment for everyone except Sig.
Under the halo of a genius, their own failures appeared increasingly ridiculous.
Until the bell rang to end the class, only Draco's match in the entire classroom had managed to take on a slight metallic sheen.
He had originally wanted to be proud of this, but as soon as he caught a glimpse of the perfect needle on Sig's desk, that small sense of achievement instantly vanished into thin air.
"Alright, everyone." Professor McGonagall clapped her hands, drawing everyone's attention back. "Introduction to Transfiguration is always difficult; this is normal. Today's homework is to write a ten-inch parchment essay explaining your understanding of the Transfiguration Spell and the difficulties you encountered while casting it."
"Ten inches!"
"Oh my god, that's way too much!"
A chorus of wails immediately erupted in the classroom. To an eleven-year-old Wizard, a ten-inch essay was a nightmare. Draco's face turned green—he hated this kind of long-winded homework the most.
Just as everyone was sighing and preparing to pack their things, a hand went up.
It was Signas.
Everyone's movements stopped.
Professor McGonagall also looked curiously at this talented student: "Mr. Shalk, do you have a question?"
Everyone thought he was going to ask some profound question or offer a unique insight into Transfiguration.
Sig stood up, his face filled with a sincere thirst for knowledge.
"Professor McGonagall, I have a small suggestion."
"Please, go ahead."
"I believe that a ten-inch homework assignment might not be enough for us beginners to deeply reflect on the mysteries of Transfiguration."
The classroom went instantly silent. Several students who were packing their bags stopped, sensing something was wrong.
What nonsense is this guy talking about?
Sig completely ignored the strange looks from around him and continued in his sincere voice, "To help my classmates better master this profound and complex art, I personally suggest that the homework volume could be appropriately doubled. A twenty-inch essay, I believe, will surely elevate our insights into casting the Transfiguration Spell to a whole new level!"
Dead silence.
The entire classroom fell into a state of dead silence.
Draco Malfoy was now glaring at Sig as if he wanted to eat him alive.
Theodore Nott's jawline was clenched tight, and the muscles in his cheeks twitched involuntarily.
Daphne was full of shock and confusion.
Even those Hufflepuff students, known for being friendly and generous, all glared at Sig with fury, their hatred almost turning into something physical.
At this moment, there were no House divisions, only a common enemy.
Human joys and sorrows indeed do not translate, but hatred for an Overachiever is universal.
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +99!]
[resentment points from Theodore Nott +99!]
[resentment points from Ernie Macmillan +99!]
[resentment points from Ernie Macmillan +99!]
[resentment points from Hannah Abbott +99!]
[resentment points from Susan Bones +99!]
[resentment points from Pansy Parkinson +99!]
...Hmm, two Houses, more than twenty people, comparable to three Walf Streets...
Chapter 18: System Bug Sig
After the bell rang, Daphne wanted to wait for Sig to leave together, but saw him being called by Professor Snape. Signas followed behind the Dean, walking down the spiral staircase.
The deeper they went, the dimmer the light became, and the air grew cold and damp. Signas thought quickly in his mind.
He had heard from upperclassmen that although Professor Snape was strict, he was quite protective of his own house students, allowing Slytherin to win the House Cup for seven consecutive years—it was simply ridiculous!
But after the brief contact during the enrollment confirmation, they had no further interaction. Being suddenly summoned now, Sig really couldn't guess what it was about.
Finally, the two stopped before a heavy wooden door. Snape pushed it open, and a scent mixed with bitter herbs and pungent Potion ingredients wafted toward them.
The office was dimly lit, with only the flickering green flames in the fireplace and a few swaying candles providing limited light. Tall storage cabinets stood in the shadows, with countless glass bottles and jars glinting faintly in the gloom.
Snape walked straight to the desk and sat down, crossing his hands and staring at Signas without a word, trying to create a sense of pressure with silence.
Signas blinked, his heart unruffled, and he even felt a bit like laughing.
Trying to put pressure on me right from the start? He was all too familiar with this psychological manipulation tactic.
Sig unceremoniously pulled out the chair opposite and sat down, even adjusting to a more comfortable position, taking control of the situation.
Snape's brow immediately furrowed: "Shalk, I did not give you permission to sit."
"Dean, you didn't say I couldn't either." Signas crossed his legs, his face showing thirty percent innocence and seventy percent sincere confusion.
"Report to the Dean before taking a seat. That is etiquette." Snape's voice dropped, carrying obvious anger.
"Oh? There's such a rule?" Signas realized suddenly, then said sincerely, "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware. After all, I am not from a Pure-blood background and know very little about these complex traditions. However, I can make the report now. If there are similar Pure-blood etiquettes in the future, you might as well issue a memo in advance, so I can also become a well-mannered Pure-blood Wizard."
These words didn't mention discrimination once, yet every sentence implied Snape was being discriminatory, pushing Snape's blood pressure to the breaking point, his cheek muscles twitching involuntarily.
He wanted to lash out but found himself cornered. If he punished him now, wouldn't that be admitting he discriminated against muggle-born students? Playing that game in Dumbledore's territory was practically asking for trouble.
Snape took a deep breath, giving up on the plan to crush the other with his aura.
He leaned forward, fingers interlaced, his obsidian-like eyes locked onto Signas, his voice devoid of any warmth: "I heard that on the first night of school, you not only beat your roommates but also cast a Dark Curse on them."
He pressed on word by word: "Are you not aware that at Hogwarts, the use of Jinxes between students is strictly forbidden and is one of the most serious violations of school rules?"
Hearing this heavy accusation, Signas felt no waves in his heart and even wanted to laugh. He looked at Snape's face, which was written all over with "you're finished," and began his performance.
"A Dark Curse? Dean, are you mistaken?" His face showed just the right amount of confusion and a hint of being wronged. "I only used a... well, an unseemly little bit of magic to make them temporarily lose control of some bodily functions. According to the Ministry of Magic's classification, this is at most a prank, far from the level of a 'Dark Curse'."
Snape's eye twitched. He hadn't expected the boy to downplay such a malicious spell as a "prank" without even blinking.
"And the beating of your classmates?" Snape's voice grew even colder.
"That's called self-defense." Signas spread his hands, looking innocent. "On the first night of school, Mr. Malfoy brought his two friends and tried to use violence to force me to obey his commands. He even used the word 'mudblood' to address me."
He paused, letting the word echo in the silent office.
"Dean, before coming to Hogwarts, I didn't know much about the Wizarding world. But after entering Slytherin, I quickly understood the meaning of the word 'mudblood'. It's an extreme insult and discrimination based on bloodline, right?"
Snape's complexion became very ugly. He hadn't expected Signas to put this issue directly on the table.
"So, facing three students holding wands with ill intent and insulting my character, isn't it the most instinctive reaction for a normal person to take some measures to protect themselves?" Signasquestioned clearly.
"Malfoy's words and actions were indeed inappropriate, but that is no excuse for you to use such low-handed methods against your housemates!" Snape slammed the table, making the bottles and jars clatter. "In Slytherin, internal conflicts should be resolved in a more... dignified manner!"
"Like a duel?" Signas asked curiously. "But there were three of them, and they used a sneak attack. As you can see, they were the ones who fell in the end. If it had been me who fell, Dean, would you have punished three heirs of Pure-blood families for a muggle-born student? Or does justice also need to look at bloodlines?"
This sentence was like a poisonous needle, precisely stabbing Snape's most sensitive nerve.
"Enough!" Snape stood up abruptly, pacing back and forth in the office, his black robes billowing behind him like angry storm clouds.
"Given that you used a malicious spell on your classmates and show no remorse, I have decided to give you a week's detention! Come to me every night; there's an empty classroom next door where you will reflect!"
He had finally found what he considered a perfect solution. detention could punish this arrogant boy without affecting house points or alarming Dumbledore. It was a perfect loop.
However, Signas's next response made him wonder if something was wrong with his ears.
"I refuse."
Signas's voice was calm and clear, without the slightest hesitation.
Snape's footsteps came to a dead stop. He turned slowly, staring fixedly at Signas as if to confirm if the student was possessed. "What... did you say?"
"I said, I refuse to accept the detention punishment," Signas repeated, even thoughtfully emphasizing his tone. "Because this punishment is not just."
[resentment points from Severus Snape +99!]
Snape was so angry he almost laughed. In all his years of teaching, this was the first time he had encountered a student who dared to contradict him to his face and refuse punishment!
This year's freshmen really had something; not only was there a famous Savior, but also a Slytherintroublemaker!
"You are in no position to refuse!" Snape's voice already carried uncontrollable rage.
"No, I am." Signas leaned back in his chair and began his logical deduction.
"Dean, there are only a few ways you can punish me. First, notify my parents. Sorry, I'm an orphan; the head of Wool's Orphanage probably has no interest in coming to Hogwarts for tea."
Snape's breathing became noticeably heavy.
"Second, deduct points. You are the Dean of Slytherin; would you deduct points from your own house on the first day, playing a scene of hitting yourself? I presume you wouldn't want that either."
Every word from Signas was like a heavy hammer, striking at the limit of Snape's patience.
"Third, a disciplinary record or expulsion. Both of these need to be reported to the Principal. Do you really want Headmaster Dumbledore to personally handle this case of 'Pure-blood students bullying a muggle-born classmate and getting taught a lesson instead'? Who do you think the Principal will punish then?"
Signas smiled slightly, revealing his white teeth: "At that time, I'm afraid it will be Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle who get the disciplinary records. That would be quite a joke; everyone would know your authority doesn't work!"
A deathly silence fell over the office.
Snape stood frozen in place, motionless. He felt his thoughts were as stagnant as if they had been filled with concrete. All authority, all methods, had actually failed before this eleven-year-old child.
The boy was like a system bug, precisely stuck in the gaps of all the rules.
He was an orphan, unafraid of being reported; he was sorted into Slytherin, making Snape hesitant to deduct points; he seized upon the two sensitive issues of "bloodline discrimination" and "campus bullying" for Dumbledore, making Snape afraid to escalate the situation.
The only punishment he could decide privately—detention—was also completely blocked by the other's "report to the Principal" move.
Snape only felt a rush of blood to his head, his blood pressure soaring.
"So, Dean." Signas stood up, straightened his robes, and spoke with a tone so sincere it was as if everything that had just happened had nothing to do with him. "If you have no other instructions, I'll head back first. I'm looking forward to your Potion Class; after all, you are the first person to make me feel the 'warmth' of the Magical World."
This heart-piercing remark became the final straw that broke the camel's back.
"GET OUT!!"
Snape pointed abruptly toward the door, letting out a low growl suppressed to the extreme. His whole body trembled slightly, and his facial muscles twisted in anger.
[resentment points from Severus Snape +99!]
[resentment points from Severus Snape +99!]
[resentment points from Severus Snape +99!]
...A series of system prompts rang in Signas's mind. He shrugged and bowed politely to Snape.
"As you wish, Dean."
With that, he turned and pulled open the door, departing unhurriedly under Snape's almost murderous gaze.
Chapter 19: Incomplete Version of the Potion
When he came out of Snape's office, the resentment points on the system panel were refreshing at an unprecedented speed. A dozen "+99" prompts jumped out one after another, eventually accumulating into a number that made Signas feel satisfied.
Professor Snape truly is a Potions master; even the resentment points he provides are so rich and long-lasting.
As Signas walked toward the Common Room, he planned how to spend this huge sum of money.
The Malfoy trio contributed a wave, the students from the two houses in the Transfiguration Classjoined forces to contribute another, and finally, Dean Snape also gave his full support. By the end of the day, the total income was over seven thousand resentment points.
Now that he had money, he had to spend it.
He rubbed his hands together, feeling a bit excited. How about trying his luck again?
"System, three consecutive draws!"
[Host, a friendly reminder: small bets are for fun, big bets hurt the body, and forced draws lead to total destruction!]
Signas waved his hand dismissively: "Cut the crap, draw!"
The virtual roulette wheel spun rapidly, and three white lights flashed.
[Congratulations, Host! You have won the reward — Soothing Potion Recipe (Incomplete Version) x1!]
[Congratulations, Host! You have won the reward — Moaning Myrtle's Bathwater (Commemorative Edition) x1 bottle!]
[Congratulations, Host! You have won the reward — Thank you for your patronage!]
Signas looked at the so-called incomplete recipe. The description read: Tranquility can be obtained after consumption, but because the recipe is incomplete, the side effects are unknown. Please use with caution!
There are side effects? Then what's the use of this?
The system didn't do this on purpose to pollute the prize pool, did it?!
He immediately shook his head. Gambling ruins people; the ancients truly did not deceive me. He still had to use his resources where they mattered most.
"System, open the skill panel."
With a thought, a translucent panel expanded before his eyes.
[Levitation Charm: Lv.10]
[Transfiguration (Beginner): Lv.Max]
[Potions (Beginner): Lv.1]
[...]
Snape had suffered such a big setback today; one could tell just by thinking with their toes that he would definitely not let it go. Perhaps he was waiting for him in Friday's Potion Class.
"System, max out Potions (Beginner) for me!"
[Received. Consuming 2000 resentment points, upgrading the skill for you...]
[Ding! Congratulations, Host, Potions (Beginner) has been upgraded to Lv.20!]
In an instant, a vast and profound torrent of information flooded into his mind.
From the most basic identification and handling of medicinal ingredients to heat control and stirring techniques during the brewing process, to the recipe principles and precautions for various beginner Potions... countless knowledge and experiences were deeply imprinted in his memory, as if he had personally brewed thousands of cauldrons of Potions.
Now, if he closed his eyes, he could clearly "smell" the cool scent of Moonstone powder and "feel" the precise force needed when cutting Sopophorous Beans with a silver knife.
Back in the Common Room, Daphne immediately approached him, her face filled with worry: "Professor Snape didn't make things difficult for you, did he?"
"No," Signas patted his robes as if dusting off non-existent dust, and said solemnly, "The Dean fully affirmed my recent performance and encouraged me to keep it up and make persistent efforts."
Daphne's expression was a bit hesitant, but she still said: "So Professor Snape is so reasonable. It seems those rumors are just prejudices against him..."
"Reasonable?" Sig was stunned. Professor Snape was very powerful, but even though a student had challenged his authority, he didn't seem to have any intention of taking action: "Well, the Dean is indeed very reasonable!"
Back in the dormitory, the Draco trio looked at him as if they had seen a ghost. Their eyes dodged, yet they couldn't help but peek out of the corners of their eyes, their bodily movements stiff.
They had gone to complain to Snape that morning, adding fuel to the fire as they described how Signashad "beaten" and "bullied them with dark curses."
They thought that as the Dean, Snape would definitely stand up for the face of these Pure-bloods and severely punish that mudblood.
But the result?
Signas was called away for a talk and then... came back unscathed.
This made Malfoy feel an unprecedented panic.
Even Professor Snape couldn't do anything to him? How is that possible! What kind of background does this mudblood have? Could it be that he knows some kind of Dark Arts that can bewitch people's minds?
But this wasn't what Sig wanted.
Now these good leeks were all withered and stopped taking the initiative to cause trouble. How was he supposed to happily harvest resentment points?
He thought he had to find a way to reignite their "fighting spirit."
Another Performance Charm!
Sig waved his wand, and the three withered boys immediately showed terrified expressions.
"You did well," Sig nodded. "Dean Snape encouraged my performance and required me to unite with my classmates... so I decided to further strengthen our relationship tonight!"
The three felt like the sky was falling. Professor Snape had clearly vowed to seek justice for them, but now why had his stance shifted to the other side?
Before they could open their mouths, a pitch-black light hit them. This time it was the appearance of Imperio, but with a dancing effect!
Oh, how Draco Malfoy hated him in his heart!
In the end, he could only dance with a mournful face... for most of the night!
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +99!]
[resentment points from Vincent Crabbe +99!]
[resentment points from Gregory Goyle +99!]
...Thursday, breakfast time, the atmosphere in the Great Hall was even more eerie.
When Signas walked into the Great Hall, dozens of gazes full of resentment were cast from the Hufflepuff table.
He could even clearly hear Ernie Macmillan complaining to his friends that his quill was almost worn out and his wrist was about to break.
[resentment points from Ernie Macmillan +25!]
[resentment points from Hannah Abbott +22!]
[resentment points from Justin Finch-Fletchley +20!]
...Signas waved to them cheerfully, revealing an encouraging smile that said "Keep it up, I'm rooting for you," successfully causing the resentment points over there to rise again.
Knowledge is power, and my classmates' resentment is my source of power!
Snape's summons didn't affect Signas's mood. After eating breakfast, he went to the classroom for Transfiguration Class. Once again, because he perfectly completed the classroom exercises, he received praise from Professor McGonagall and points for Slytherin.
Next was Charms Class.
However, in the first Charms Class, Professor Flitwick didn't explain any specific spells but instead talked about the background stories and basic principles of charms.
In the afternoon, it was Defense Against the Dark Arts Class with Slytherin and Ravenclaw.
The instructor was Professor Quirrell, who still stuttered when he spoke and always had a smell of garlic lingering on him.
As soon as he saw Signas, the system prompts in Sig's consciousness didn't stop.
[resentment points from Quirrell +99!]
[resentment points from Quirrell +99!]
[resentment points from Quirrell +99!]
Good heavens, even more intense than Snape!
Signas was completely baffled.
This Professor Quirrell's temper is a bit too much, isn't it!
It's been almost a month, and he still has resentment!
Professor Quirrell didn't have much heart for teaching at this moment. Seeing Signas made his own back of the head throb with pain. He was completely reciting from the textbook, telling boring stories about forest trolls and Vampires.
Looking around, Professor Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts Class was actually even more sleep-inducing than Professor Binns's History of Magic Class.
Even the Ravenclaw students, known for their wisdom, were now falling over in large numbers, their eyelids fighting to stay open and yawning constantly.
Even Signas's system couldn't extract a single skill from it.
This greatly disappointed Sig, who had wanted to learn more magic in Defense Against the Dark Arts Class...
Chapter 20: Flying Expert
Due to his outstanding performance in Transfiguration Class and Charms Class, Sig's reputation gradually began to spread.
Even the universally recognized top student, Hermione, took the initiative to ask Sig for help with her schoolwork or meet him in quiet corners to practice spells together.
Daphne Greengrass, however, wasn't quite as fond of studying.
Given her family background, she didn't seem to need to work herself to death studying like everyone else; she preferred dragging Signas around the Castle to wander aimlessly, sometimes walking by the Black Lake or visiting the greenhouses to see those strange plants.
At this moment, in the library.
Signas was buried in a pile of parchment, writing his Herbology Class assignment titled 'One Hundred Ways to Process Bubotubers'.
Daphne, sitting opposite him, was having a much easier time.
Floating before her was a copy of 'The Encyclopedia of Herbology' that turned its own pages. Dynamic herb illustrations and 3D demonstrations of processing steps would pop up from the pages from time to time.
Beside it, an auto-writing quill was scribbling rapidly across a sheet of parchment!
"Sig, look," Daphne pulled out a magic book that looked very expensive and whispered, "This 'Notes of a Potion Master (Collector's Edition)' is so convenient. It can automatically update with the latest annotations and simulate experimental processes, so I don't have to blow up my own cauldron."
Signas looked up, glanced expressionlessly at the gadget that could be called a 'magical learning machine,' and then looked back down at the quill in his hand, which was nearly plucked bald.
The accumulation of Pure-blood families over hundreds of years was indeed profound; they not only possessed vast magical knowledge but also a large number of magical items.
However, Sig wasn't worried. With the system, he was confident he could catch up to these Pure-bloods.
"It's quite good," he commented sincerely.
"Right? Right!" Daphne swung her legs happily. "My mother says the most efficient way to learn is to spend money. Oh, do you want to try this?"
As she spoke, she took several colorful candies out of an exquisite small box and pushed them toward Signas. "These are Goblin Fruit Drops made by the French pastry chef my family recently hired. Eating them can temporarily boost your focus."
[resentment points from Pansy Parkinson +45!]
Not far away, Pansy Parkinson slammed a book shut with a loud 'thwack.' She walked over quickly, leaned her hands on the table, and looked down at Daphne.
"Greengrass, I'm truly ashamed of you!" Pansy's nostrils flared slightly. "You're losing face for all of us Pure-bloods! To think you're mixing with a mudblood and even taking the initiative to share family items!"
Facing Pansy, Daphne's young lady temper immediately flared up.
Her face darkened as she said coldly, "Parkinson, watch your words! Who do you think you are? You couldn't even change a match's appearance in Transfiguration Class, yet you have the nerve to keep 'Pure-blood' on your lips? If I didn't know better, I'd think you came from some Squib family!"
Having said her piece, she prepared to pull Sig away, not bothering to look at Pansy's face, which had turned the color of pig liver.
In the genealogy of Pure-blood families, the status of the Greengrass family was high enough to look down on the vast majority of Pure-bloods, save for a few like the Malfoys.
Thursday afternoon was Flying Class, held with Slytherin and Gryffindor together.
On the lawn in front of the Castle, twenty old Flying brooms were lined up neatly in two rows; they looked more like withered twigs waiting to be cleared away.
Now, Malfoy had finally found his home turf.
He talked incessantly about Flying techniques, complained loudly that first-year students weren't eligible to join the house Quidditch teams, and interspersed his talk with several self-boasting flying anecdotes.
Signas understood that the other boy might not be entirely bragging.
Daphne had told him that many young Wizards from Pure-blood families spent most of their childhood flying through the fields on brooms, so their flying skills were generally superior to those of classmates from Muggle families.
In the Wizarding World, where entertainment was relatively limited, Quidditch was one of the few sports everyone was passionate about. Because of this, flying skills were exceptionally highly regarded in Pure-blood culture.
The Flying Class Professor, Madam Hooch, had short, sleek grey hair and yellow eyes as sharp as a hawk's.
After briefly and concisely explaining the essentials of flying, she blew the silver whistle hanging from her neck.
"Everyone, stand to the left of your broom! Quickly!" she commanded. "Stick out your right hand, hover it over the broom, and say clearly: 'Up!'"
"Up!" twenty voices rang out raggedly.
Harry's broom jumped into his hand immediately, clean and crisp.
Hermione's broom only rolled over on the ground.
While Ron was muttering about how he'd once almost hit a Muggle hang-glider while riding his brother Charlie's old broom, he shouted at his broom, and it finally popped up reluctantly.
In comparison, Malfoy's broom was also quite obedient, rising into his hand instantly.
He instinctively wanted to cast a provocative glance at Signas, hoping to reclaim some Pure-blooddignity in Flying Class, but he witnessed a scene that completely deflated him.
"Up."
Sig had already leveled his flying skill to 10, so he simply uttered the word calmly. The school broom, like a well-trained hound, leapt into his palm with a 'whoosh,' its force perfectly calibrated.
This smooth, flowing movement made Pansy, who was still struggling with her broom nearby, twitch her eyes.
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +66!]
[resentment points from Pansy Parkinson +44!]
"Very good," Madam Hooch nodded with satisfaction. "Now, mount your brooms. On my whistle, kick off hard, hover for a moment, then descend slowly. Note, you must wait for my whistle—"
However, accidents always come unexpectedly. Before the Professor could blow her whistle, Neville Longbottom, due to extreme nervousness, had his broom shoot up suddenly, carrying him into the sky as he let out a series of terrified screams.
In the chaos, Neville eventually fell from his broom, unfortunately breaking his wrist. Madam Hoochimmediately helped him up to head to the hospital wing, sternly warning all students to stay where they were and not to fly without permission before she left.
As soon as she was out of sight, Malfoy bent down and picked up the Remembrall Neville had dropped.
Draco didn't have the guts to provoke Signas right now, but he still dared to bully other classmates to prove himself, and his nerve was quite considerable.
"Look at what Longbottom forgot," he drawled, toyed with the glass ball gloatingly. "If I were to hide it somewhere, like the top of a tree..."
"Give it here, Malfoy!"
Harry recognized it as Neville's Remembrall and immediately stepped forward. He also couldn't stand Draco, whose head was filled with Pure-blood supremacy!
"I won't!" Malfoy nimbly mounted his broom and took off. "Want it? Come and get it yourself, Potter!"
Harry grabbed his broom without hesitation and gave chase.
The Gryffindors on the ground cheered loudly for Harry, while most of the Slytherins jeered and egged them on gloatingly.
Signas crossed his arms, watching this aerial chase like an outsider.
He couldn't help but feel a bit of regret, feeling he'd missed an opportunity to earn a large amount of resentment points—if he'd known, he should have been the one to grab that Remembrall first.
Just then, Pansy Parkinson flew over to Signas on her broom, wobbling slightly.
"Hey, mudblood," her face held undisguised malice. "Why aren't you going up? Oh, I forgot, someone like you probably doesn't even know how to fly, right? Are your legs shaking with fear?"
Signas gave her a faint glance and ignored her.
Seeing his indifference, Pansy became even more energized, pointing toward Draco and Harry. "Do you see that? That's what a real Wizard should look like! And you, even if you luckily got into Slytherin, you'll always be a piece of trash only fit to look up at us from the ground!"
Signas sighed inwardly. He had wanted to be a quiet observer, but someone always had to come to his door to contribute to his performance metrics.
He said no more, nimbly straddled his broom, and gave a light kick. In the next instant, he was like a black arrow shot from a bow, instantly pulling off the ground. His movement was swift and steady, without the slightest wobble.
He ignored Harry and Malfoy in the air and instead flew straight to Pansy, hovering at her height.
"What did you just say? The wind was too loud, I didn't hear clearly."
Pansy was stunned by his clean and crisp takeoff, then became fly-blown with rage. "I said you're a..."
Her words stopped abruptly. Signas suddenly pulled his broom handle, making a sharp turn at a tiny angle, instantly circling behind her. Then, he drove his broom to begin flying around her in high-speed circles.
"Vroom—vroom—vroom—"
The strong airflow generated by the Flying broom was like invisible hands, roughly buffeting Pansy and her already unstable broom. Her pitiful flying skills were powerless to maintain balance under such interference.
"Ah—! Stop! Stop it!" Pansy's broom began to shake violently, like a small boat in a storm. She was scared out of her wits, clutching the broom handle for dear life, not even daring to open her eyes.
Just as she was about to fall, Signas skillfully used the tail of his broom to give her a steady nudge. Then, under the astonished gazes of everyone, he almost herded the screaming Pansy all the way back down to the ground.
With a 'thud,' Pansy fell onto the grass with her broom, her image completely ruined.
[resentment points from Pansy Parkinson +99!]
[resentment points from Pansy Parkinson +99!]
Signas hovered in the air, looking down at her, and said slowly, "See? Flying is actually very simple. As long as your head is clear and your hands and feet are coordinated, just don't go crashing around like a headless fly."
The lawn fell into a dead silence. All the Slytherin students, including Malfoy, who had just caught the Remembrall and was about to land, stared at this scene in dumbfounded shock.
At this moment, only one thought remained in their minds: this Muggle-born guy is simply a monster!
Behind a window on the third floor of the Castle, Professor McGonagall slowly lowered the binoculars in her hand.
Her gaze rested on Harry and Sig.