“…I’ve already memorized the timetable, Vaughn.
Gryffindor and Slytherin share many classes anyway, so I don’t think the Sorting really affects much.”
“Our first class today is Transfiguration.
Have you prepared?
If not, I can lend you my notes, or maybe we can sit together during class?”
Breakfast had already been laid out on the four house tables in the Great Hall, and it was quite a feast.
Of all British “cuisine,” breakfast was the only meal Vaughn didn’t find tedious.
Aside from the usual sausages and bacon, there were scrambled eggs, baked beans in tomato sauce, and the like.
Even the staple breads came in a wide variety.
Vaughn, wearing his Slytherin serpent badge, sat openly at the Gryffindor table.
He listened to Hermione’s constant chattering while slowly and methodically enjoying his breakfast.
Every Gryffindor who passed them by would look up in disbelief first.
Once they confirmed they hadn’t walked into the wrong place in a sleep-deprived daze, they would scurry away from the duo with bizarre expressions.
Not far away, the Slytherins were constantly looking back.
The story of Vaughn knocking the prefect unconscious with two spells last night had spread overnight, and practically the entire Slytherin House knew about it by now.
Supposedly, the spell the prefect had been hit with was incredibly powerful; his classmates tried counter-curses but couldn’t undo it, leaving them with no choice but to rush him to Madam Pomfrey overnight.
Everyone was re-evaluating this red-headed Weasley!
This was perhaps the only virtue of the Slytherins: they revered power and authority.
In fact, in the pure-blood education they received, power and authority were practically synonymous.
Whoever was strong earned their respect!
But…
why on earth was that guy sitting at the Gryffindor table?
Was rebelliousness just a natural trait of the Weasley family?
How vexing!
Many of the younger Slytherins who wanted to approach Vaughn but didn’t dare provoke him resorted to glaring at the Gryffindors instead.
The Gryffindors found it odd too, but out of respect for Percy, Fred, and George, they felt awkward about driving Vaughn away.
Instead, they just glared back at the Slytherins.
It was a perfectly ordinary breakfast, yet the two houses had somehow managed to create a tense, explosive atmosphere.
Naturally, this also drew the attention of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.
However, of these two, Ravenclaw had always mastered the art of staying out of trouble and rarely bothered with other people’s business, while Hufflepuff’s little badgers were simple by nature and hated the spotlight.
So, no one tried to fan the flames or cause a scene.
That is, until Fred and George marched in, looking highly indignant.
“Look, George!
A Weasley serpent, sitting right at the Gryffindor table!”
“Yes, Fred, your eyes do not deceive you.
It’s horrifying.
This traitor has betrayed us, yet he still has the nerve to show his face here!”
The two of them flanked Vaughn, crossing their arms and widening their eyes in an effort to show their younger brother just how angry and disappointed they were.
Vaughn tore off a piece of bread, dipped it into the thick mushroom soup, took a bite, and said languidly, “Are you two sure you want to pick a fight with me?”
“Hmm…
I recall two people buttering me up all summer.
Since they seemed so sincere, I was planning to slip ten Gold Galleons into their Halloween care packages to support their business venture…”
With that, Vaughn turned his head, looking up at his two older brothers with a face full of sincerity.
“But now, it seems they don’t want it after all!”
The twins instinctively lowered their arms and exchanged glances.
“What do we do, Fred?”
“…Maybe…
we should forgive him first?”
“Would that make us look too unprincipled?”
“Ten Gold Galleons…”
“Percy said yesterday that no Weasley has ever been sorted into Slytherin, and someone needs to be taught a lesson…”
The twins exchanged another look, then burst into loud laughter.
“Who cares what rubbish Percy is spouting!”
“We’re absolutely not doing this for the Galleons, but how could we bear to disappoint our dear brother’s earnest desire to support our business?
Right, Fred?”
“Spot on, George!
What’s wrong with Slytherin?
Are they not Hogwarts students?
Are they not our brother?”
“Ahem, though there are quite a few gits in Slytherin, our brother is definitely not one of them.”
“Exactly, George!”
Vaughn smiled and stopped teasing them, asking seriously, “Are ten Galleons enough?”
The twins nodded vigorously.
“More than enough, more than enough.”
“Absolutely vital, Vaughn!”
In high spirits, they grabbed a few pieces of bread and quickly walked away, murmuring to each other about product development.
Only after they had walked quite a distance did one of them murmur softly, “But still, a Weasley has never been in Slytherin…”
“What can we do?
He’s our brother, George.”
“Sigh…”
…
“That was the twins dealt with.” Although he had kept a calm facade, Vaughn secretly let out a sigh of relief.
Things had gone exactly as he anticipated.
In the entire Weasley family, Fred and George might be the most mischievous.
But because they were close in age, they were also the most protective of their younger brothers.
Last night, he had also written a letter to Molly and Arthur, explaining his reasons for entering Slytherin House.
He hadn’t mentioned Occlumency; instead, he claimed he had negotiated with the Sorting Hat because he wanted to study Potions under Professor Snape.
Since it concerned his education, and studying under Snape at that, his parents probably wouldn’t feel so troubled anymore…
“Sigh, if I had such a clear mind for interpersonal relationships in my past life, I wouldn’t have ended up as a corporate slave!” Vaughn let out a soft sigh.
Then, he heard Hermione beside him whisper with a hint of hesitation, “Actually, I don’t think being sorted into Slytherin means anything bad.”
Vaughn looked at her.
Her face was slightly flushed, yet she still said earnestly, “I’ve read *Hogwarts: A History*, *A History of Magic*, and *A History of Modern Magic*.
No magical historian has ever said that Slytherin only produces bad people, and I don’t believe the Sorting Hat determines whether a person is good or bad.
In fact, I even read in *A History of Modern Magic* that one of the most notorious Death Eaters came from Gryffindor!”
Listening to her earnest explanation—or was it consolation?—Vaughn smiled and ruffled her hair.
“Thank you, Hermione.”
Though he didn’t actually need comfort, having a thoughtful young girl look out for you was quite pleasant, wasn’t it?
This pleasant mood stayed with him until they finished breakfast and headed to their Transfiguration class together.
This was the very first class of their first year.
When Vaughn and Hermione arrived, there were only two or three people in the classroom—namely, young Malfoy, and Neville, whom Malfoy was currently mocking.
And, sitting on the teacher’s desk, a tabby cat.
At the sight of Vaughn, Malfoy and his lackeys instinctively shrunk into a corner.
Neville was incredibly grateful; he didn’t care in the slightest about Vaughn’s Slytherin identity.
He thanked him tearfully, “Thank you, Vaughn!
You’re the only one who can make Malfoy scared.
I heard you gave him a proper thrashing.
You’re so amazing!”
On the desk, the tabby cat’s face took on a stern expression.
Vaughn’s good mood instantly vanished into thin air.
*Thank you, Neville.
Now if only you would shut up…*