There were far too many people here.
Setting aside the other professors of Hogwarts, the Heads of Houses and Albus Dumbledore were all incredibly powerful wizards.
Not to mention, there was also a certain noseless socket-face who, at this very moment, was likely clinging to life at the back of someone’s head.
Vaughn glanced at the staff table, pinpointing the fellow with the purple turban wrapped around his head.
Now was not the time to claim his reward.
He would wait until he was alone later!
With a thought, he closed the system panel.
Ignoring the pointing fingers and whispers of the Great Hall, Vaughn strolled casually toward the Slytherin house table.
*Thud!*
The loud sound caused a brief hush to fall over the Great Hall.
It was Draco Malfoy.
His already pale face was now a sickly shade of green.
He scrambled up from the floor in embarrassment, not even daring to look at Vaughn, his robes rustling as he tried to flee to the other end of the table.
“Hey, Draco!”
Draco’s retreating figure froze in its tracks, and he stiffly turned around.
“We-We-We-Weasley…
Mr.
Weasley…”
“You can call me Vaughn.
Since we’re in the same house now, please look after me.”
Vaughn patted his shoulder, making him flinch violently.
Draco tried to squeeze out a smile, but his facial muscles refused to cooperate, twisting into a grimace uglier than a crying face.
He looked at Crabbe and Goyle next to him.
Those two foolish cowards had buried their heads against the table, their teeth chattering so hard they went *clack-clack-clack*.
At this moment, seemingly unable to watch any longer, an older student wearing a ‘P’ badge stepped forward and barked in a low voice, “Hey, Weasley brat, sit down in your seat and don’t make trouble for me!”
Vaughn took a close look at his tall, burly frame and unfortunate facial features, then replied with a smile, “Alright, Mr.
Prefect.”
The prefect nodded in satisfaction.
To reward Vaughn’s obedience, he took the lead in clapping to welcome him.
The other Slytherins at the table exchanged glances, but ultimately out of respect for the prefect, they clapped sparsely, “welcoming” this red-haired Weasley—the blood traitor!
Vaughn didn’t mind.
He smiled and sat down next to Malfoy.
The applause at the Slytherin table at least prevented the atmosphere from growing even more awkward.
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and said:
“Quiet!
Let the Sorting Ceremony continue!”
Nothing else went wrong after that, and the Sorting Ceremony quickly concluded.
Albus Dumbledore, seemingly unaffected, stood up to deliver a brief, cryptic speech before declaring the feast open.
Food instantly piled high upon the long tables.
Of course, there wasn’t actually that much variety.
While there was a generous amount of meat, the main starches were rather monotonous.
It was nothing but potatoes, potatoes, and more potatoes.
Having eaten them for so many years, Vaughn lost his appetite just looking at them.
“Dear Draco, I think Professor McGonagall was right.
Since we’ve been sorted into the same house, we should treat each other like family.”
Vaughn picked up a roasted lamb chop—something he had loved even in his past life—and said as he nibbled on it slowly, “So, I’ve decided to forgive your rudeness on the train.
Let’s get along happily from now on, shall we?”
“…”
Was that really how it was?
Malfoy’s eyes went blank.
For some reason, he felt as if his world had gone dark.
Looking at the delicacies before him, he wanted to gorge himself to forget his troubles—ideally to eat until he was so stuffed he could go back to sleep and wake up to find this was all a nightmare!
Unfortunately…
“Draco, pass me the pudding.”
“Mmh, authentic Yorkshire flavor, I like it.
Draco, pass the lamb chops.”
“Huh?
You’re not eating?
Potatoes bring happiness, Draco.
Don’t look so miserable all the time, smile!”
“Look, Draco, you’re so popular.
Even the Slytherin ghost wants to sit next to you…
Mr.
Ghost, how may I address you?”
The ghost who had just arrived was covered in blood, staring blankly with a cold, gloomy expression: “the Bloody Baron…”
In just that single word, every syllable seemed to reek of blood.
His stomach stuffed full of potatoes, Malfoy could no longer take it.
He clapped a hand over his mouth and bolted toward the side door of the Great Hall, which led to the bathrooms.
By the time the feast ended and Malfoy returned, he looked completely drained, his face nearly as pale as the ghost’s.
The Slytherin prefects, male and female, were responsible for leading the first-years to their respective dormitories.
The male prefect was the very same guy who had barked at Vaughn earlier.
He had introduced himself, but Vaughn hadn’t bothered to remember his name.
Honestly, with the exceptions of Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass, who wouldn’t enroll until next year, Vaughn felt there was no need to remember any of the students from the recent Slytherin cohorts.
They were either mentally deficient, heavily brainwashed by their families, or had rather…
peculiar looks.
Back when he read the books in his past life, he had wondered why the Snake House always seemed to recruit such a collection of oddballs and misfits!
The burly prefect with the unfortunate face led the first-years to the Slytherin common room.
Located in the dungeons, the windows looked out into the depths of the Black Lake, giving it a unique atmosphere, though it was colloquially known as the “Dungeons.”
Seemingly feeling quite pleased with himself for successfully putting Vaughn in his place during the feast, the prefect went through the house rules in the common room before patting Vaughn heavily on the shoulder.
“Weasley boy, I don’t care what grievance you have with Malfoy, but in Slytherin, in Hogwarts, you will follow my rules.
And I expect you to show Malfoy more respect.
You’re both purebloods, but the Weasleys have long since…”
“Mr.
Prefect,” Vaughn interrupted with a smile.
“Before you lecture me, I have a question to ask you.
A question about a spell.”
The prefect frowned.
“Weasley, is this the manners your penniless parents taught you?”
“The spell is called—”
Vaughn raised his wand and looked at him coldly.
Only then did the prefect realize something was wrong.
He scrambled to draw his wand, but just as the incantation was about to leave his mouth—
“Expelliarmus!”
A flash of red light burst forth!
The prefect’s burly body flew backward through the air.
With a loud *splat*, he slammed against the large bay window that separated the common room from the lake’s water, before slowly sliding down.
The surrounding first-year little snakes, as well as several older students hanging out in the common room, stared in utter shock.
They watched dumbfounded as Vaughn cast a follow-up “Stupefy,” knocking the prefect out completely.
He then nudged the man’s head with his boot and fished out a roll of parchment from his pocket.
Vaughn picked up the parchment, which detailed the dormitory assignments, and found his name.
He then swept his calm gaze over the crowd, eventually locking onto Malfoy.
“Dear Draco, did you see what just happened?”
Malfoy shuddered violently and stammered, “N-No?”
“No, not smart enough.
You should say you saw this…
whatever his name is, raise his wand to attack me, and I was forced to defend myself.
Understand?”
Realization dawned on Malfoy, and he nodded frantically.
“Very good!” Vaughn’s gaze swept across the crowd once more.
With his wand still in hand, nobody dared to make a move.
He nodded in polite farewell.
“And with that, good night, gentlemen!”
Having said his piece, he turned and walked away.