Hermione suddenly tugged on Chu Yang's sleeve and whispered, "Can you tell me what actually happened? I don't believe that many people would really stay in the common room all night—what would be the point?"
"I heard Slytherin's common room is under the Black Lake. It's dark and cold—what could possibly be fun about that?"
Hermione tended to think like an adult. In fact, even Minerva McGonagall hadn't really believed that explanation. As soon as class ended, she had gone to the hospital wing—partly to check on Malfoy.
Chu Yang couldn't be bothered to make up excuses. What he'd done would come out sooner or later anyway.
Those boys had only been knocked out, not given amnesia.
So he told the truth plainly. "They stopped me at the dormitory door last night and said I wasn't pure-blood, that I didn't belong in Slytherin. They planned to make things difficult for me. I was tired and sleepy and just wanted to rest—no time to play along. So I had to ask them to leave."
Hermione halted mid-step, mouth falling open. She stared at him in shock. "When you say 'ask'… do you mean the same 'ask' we usually mean?"
Chu Yang thought for a moment, then shook his head. "There's a tiny difference."
"Probably more than a tiny one," Hermione said, drawing a sharp breath as if the temperature around them had dropped. "Beating up classmates can get you punished. Aren't you afraid?"
"How could one person beat up so many people?" Chu Yang rolled his eyes and spread his hands helplessly. "If anything, they were the ones beating me. I was just defending myself. Was I supposed to stand there and let them bully me?"
"That's true. They were the ones who started it!" Thinking about Chu Yang being excluded by the Slytherin first-years just because he wasn't pure-blood, Hermione felt a surge of indignation on his behalf.
Talking about the previous night, the two walked into the classroom together.
"Isn't Hermione in Gryffindor? Why is she always hanging around Chu Yang?" Ron muttered, watching the two chatting amiably. An uncomfortable feeling stirred in his chest.
"What's wrong with classmates talking to each other?" Harry replied matter-of-factly. "Besides, they probably have more in common—both smart, both well-read."
After the experience in Transfiguration, the first-years hurried to their seats as soon as they entered, terrified of drawing Severus Snape's ire.
Compared to McGonagall's strictness and precision, Snape felt genuinely frightening—dark and oppressive, as if anyone who angered him would suffer a miserable fate.
Only after everyone had sat down did Snape sweep into the classroom from outside.
He moved like a gust of wind, his robes billowing.
He might have thought he looked impressive, but to Chu Yang, he looked like a giant flapping moth at the doorway…
"This class does not require you to wave your wands about foolishly, nor does it require you to mutter incantations," Snape drawled, leaning against the lectern with undisguised coldness. "I doubt many of you will truly appreciate the subtle science and exacting art of potion-making."
He was about to continue when his eyes flicked over the room—and he noticed many empty seats.
"This is not the first lesson of the day, is it?" Snape's voice filled with anger as he stared at the absentees. "Why are so many students late? And Slytherins, no less?!"
He slammed his palm down on the desk with a loud bang, making everyone's hearts jump.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door.
Already irritated at being interrupted, Snape frowned. He straightened his robes and strode to the door, opening it to find Professor McGonagall standing there, fresh from the hospital wing.
McGonagall glanced into the classroom first. When she spotted Chu Yang, a helpless expression crossed her face. Then she motioned for Snape to step outside.
As she explained the full story behind the Slytherin first-years' absence, Snape first looked bewildered—then fell into silence.
Inside the classroom, students whispered to one another, speculating why McGonagall had called Snape out in the middle of a lesson.
At this age, curiosity about everything ran rampant.
About five minutes later, Snape returned with a strange expression on his face.
He didn't go back to the lectern. Instead, he walked straight up to Chu Yang and stared down at him coldly.
"Mr. Chu Yang," Snape said, "would you care to explain how you managed to use nothing but your fists to ensure that several dormitories' worth of students couldn't attend class the next day?"
"I'm genuinely curious. And don't tell me that an orphan like you happens to know Eastern martial arts—that would be laughable."
Snape's unrestrained sarcasm caused an uproar in the classroom.
So the reason the Slytherin students were absent… was because Chu Yang had beaten them?!
The room erupted in noise.
Harry and Ron gaped in astonishment, their eyes full of admiration as they looked at Chu Yang. Good grief—he'd taken down that many people by himself?
Just yesterday, Ron had been telling Harry that a non–pure-blood like Chu Yang would have a terrible time in Slytherin.
Harry had been worried as well.
Seeing Chu Yang unharmed that morning, he'd secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
As two of the only orphans in first year, if something happened to Chu Yang, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of shared fate.
Of the so-called "point-deduction trio," the calmest was Hermione—she already knew the truth from Chu Yang himself. Still, she was worried. Snape looked furious.
Chu Yang stood up and replied calmly, "Professor Snape, I don't know martial arts. But as you said, I grew up in an orphanage. The environment there wasn't exactly peaceful—fighting was a required skill for every child."
"And with all due respect, a wizard without a wand who can't cast spells isn't much stronger than a Muggle…"
Comparing wizards to Muggles instantly enraged Snape.
He strode forward until he was almost face-to-face with Chu Yang.
"You've made a grave mistake, Mr. Chu Yang!" Snape snarled. "Don't think fists can solve everything. Perhaps they can now—but what about two or three months from now? When those students you 'bullied' pick up their wands and learn spells, how will you deal with them then? Still with your fists?"
The clash between Snape and Chu Yang made the already chilly dungeon feel even more oppressive. The first-years watched in terror, scarcely daring to breathe.
(End of Chapter)