"First, let me correct you on one point," Chu Yang said calmly. "It wasn't me bullying them—it was them bullying me. I was simply acting in self-defense."
He didn't back down in the face of Severus Snape's anger, maintaining steady eye contact as he replied neither servile nor arrogant. "When they pick up their wands, I'll pick up mine as well. We're all wizards—are they the only ones who can use magic?"
Snape sneered. "And can you guarantee your spells will be as effective as your fists?"
Chu Yang shrugged, utterly relaxed. "Won't we find out when the time comes? Don't worry—once the results are in, I'll report to you immediately."
Snape knew exactly why Chu Yang was so confident. Minerva McGonagall had already explained it to him—any act of retaliation by Chu Yang within Slytherin had been tacitly approved by Albus Dumbledore.
"If you're serious, then I admire your courage," Snape said coldly, turning away and walking back to the lectern. "Talking back to a professor and showing no respect—Slytherin loses five points!"
Chu Yang stared, stunned.
Damn—Snape was really angry. This was the first time he'd ever seen him deduct points from his own house!
Within a single day, Slytherin had already lost ten points because of Chu Yang.
When it came to point deductions, he'd somehow taken the lead over the famous trio.
Am I about to become a brand-new point-deduction menace?
Everyone knew the "three" usually came in fours, and the Four Heavenly Kings were actually five people…
But when it came to losing house points, Chu Yang had no desire to run neck and neck with those three.
The atmosphere in the Potions class was oppressively heavy. Already ill-tempered, Snape prowled among the first-years like the Grim Reaper, the sound of his leather shoes striking the stone floor unnervingly clear.
Throughout the entire lesson, Snape never once looked directly at Chu Yang.
He thought that might put some pressure on the boy—but he had underestimated Chu Yang's psychological maturity.
Snape's intimidation tactics were far inferior to Chu Yang's high school homeroom teacher—honestly, even the PE teacher had been scarier.
Anyone who had gone through compulsory education adapted perfectly well to Hogwarts' teaching intensity.
Only the locals thought it was overwhelming.
As soon as class ended, the first-years scrambled to flee the dungeon classroom. Ironically, the one who had clashed with Snape the most—Chu Yang—packed his books at a leisurely pace, leaving last.
"Thank you for today's lesson, Professor Snape," Chu Yang said with a slight bow. "I learned many things that weren't in the textbook."
Then he turned and left.
Watching Chu Yang's departing back, the frost-like hardness on Snape's face slowly softened.
His expression grew distant as he murmured, "If only I'd been as brave as him back then… Lily might have…"
His voice echoed faintly in the empty classroom.
By lunchtime, after a morning of relentless mental strain, the first-years finally had a chance to recover their battered young hearts.
In the Great Hall, the new students subconsciously chose seats farther away from Chu Yang. After learning that he'd single-handedly taken down so many boys, he'd left a distinctly unwholesome impression.
And in this place, stories of non–pure-bloods standing up to pure-bloods were never labeled as heroic.
Even setting blood status aside, no one wanted to associate with Chu Yang—he had offended far too many people.
After all, Slytherin students weren't ordinary children. Each of them had formidable backing; it was the cradle of pure-blood wizards.
Chu Yang understood this perfectly. He wasn't immature enough to resent those who distanced themselves—avoiding danger was simply human instinct.
What surprised him, however, was that someone suddenly sat down across from him.
It wasn't Hermione.
Nor was it Harry or Ron.
It was Neville Longbottom.
Neville held his food and smiled shyly. "I didn't get the chance to thank you when we crossed the lake. Now I finally can."
"No need," Chu Yang said, propping his cheek with one hand while lightly tapping the table with the other. "You sure you want to sit here?"
Neville immediately panicked. "I—I'm sorry! If you don't want me here, I can move—"
"That's not what I meant," Chu Yang waved it off. "Aren't you afraid they'll isolate you too, like they're doing to me?"
Neville scratched his head. "They won't. They just don't know you yet. Once they do, they'll realize they misunderstood you."
Chu Yang laughed. The way Neville spoke, it sounded as if he knew him very well.
Before long, more young wizards gathered beside Chu Yang.
As expected—it was the infamous point-deduction trio.
"There are parts of this book I don't understand," Hermione Granger said, placing a thick tome in front of him. She was clearly asking for help, yet her tone suggested she wasn't really asking at all.
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley sat down diagonally opposite, fooling around and repeatedly asking Chu Yang about the "battle details" from the night before.
"Goyle said you kicked Blaise so hard he flew through the air!" Ron asked excitedly. "You really didn't use magic?"
Chu Yang smiled. "My wand was still in my trunk. I didn't even have the chance to grab it—so no spells."
Ron marveled, "You're insanely strong!"
Once the three of them had settled in and started chatting, Ron's older brothers soon joined them. The area around Chu Yang gradually returned to something resembling normal.
Fred Weasley and George Weasley wiggled their eyebrows at Chu Yang.
Clearly, they'd heard about his "feat." Their nonstop questions quickly livened up the entire section.
Soon after, a crisp chorus of hoots echoed above the Great Hall. Countless owls swooped in through the skylights, letters and parcels clutched in beaks and talons.
"Hey! The post's here!"
The excited cries made Chu Yang realize that family deliveries had arrived. Come to think of it, opening an owl-based courier service for lightweight packages would probably be incredibly profitable.
A newspaper landed in front of Harry and Ron. After a quick exchange, Harry opened it eagerly.
Chu Yang vaguely remembered—it reported the break-in at Gringotts. The vault that once held the Philosopher's Stone—an artifact granting immortality—had already been emptied in advance by Hagrid on Dumbledore's orders.
The trio's attention was completely captured by the article, unaware that the object described was now quietly resting within Hogwarts itself.
The first lesson of the afternoon was flying class with Rolanda Hooch. The first-years could barely contain their excitement.
Flight was humanity's ultimate dream—wizard or Muggle alike.
Madam Hooch strode briskly among the students and announced, "Welcome to your very first flying lesson."
"Please hold your right hand over your broomstick and say 'Up.' Controlling the broom into your hand is the first step in forming a connection with it."
As she spoke, something immediately felt wrong.
One student had already jumped onto his broom, feet planted on it, assuming an utterly bizarre stance.
Under her horrified gaze, the Eastern-faced boy shouted—
"Up!"
Good news.
The broom actually lifted into the air.
Bad news.
The person was standing on it while flying!!!
(End of Chapter)