Chapter 39.
However, this did not prevent his face from remaining grim; the good mood he had before falling asleep last night had vanished completely.
It was not just because of the foul odor in the classroom—that was the most insignificant factor. What truly made his heart heavy came precisely from the instructor himself.
Quirrell, full name Quirinus Quirrell, was a graduate of the Ravenclaw house at Hogwarts. After graduation, he stayed on to teach Muggle Studies.
This seemingly upstanding alumnus, with such a promising background, had chosen to take a year off to search for the legacy left behind by Lord Voldemort, driven by an extreme desire to prove himself and a longing for Dark Arts.
And then...
He really found it. He found the remnant of Lord Voldemort's soul, brought him back, and then—and then—
He stared at Soren with a strange gaze, stammering his name: "So—Soren, Re—Re—Reed!"
Soren Reed and the Magic Library: Chapter 59: Ghost Stories in Fairy Tales—Quirrell Has His Back to You
Damn it—!
Since his rebirth, Soren had been very conscious of his image and rarely cursed.
But now, he really couldn't hold it in anymore.
Unlike those brats who secretly mocked the way Quirrellspoke, Soren knew exactly how dangerous Quirrell was. He even suspected that the various comical postures Quirrell displayed were likely all a disguise.
At least for this year, Quirrell, who harbored Lord Voldemort within his body, was the most dangerous person in Hogwarts Castle!
However, as a first-year student, Soren could not avoid him at all and had to respond to his words—because this was classroom roll call...
"I am here. It is a pleasure to meet you, Quirrell."
Soren's manners were flawless, showing no signs of anything amiss.
Quirrell, wearing a purple turban and looking pale, continued to stare fixedly at him with that strange gaze, as if he wanted to carve Soren's appearance into his mind.
He stared at Soren for several times longer than he did the other students, before finally calling out the last name on the list, which was Blaise Zabini.
Blaise responded casually. His attitude was much like the other Slytherin students, all of whom thought Quirrell, who couldn't even speak clearly and acted timid, was very low-class.
Quirrell's reaction to him was also very flat; he glanced at him casually and then stopped paying attention.
After roll call, Quirrell began his self-introduction and told the freshmen at the end that if they had any questions, they could speak up at any time; he was very willing to answer everyone's questions.
This was originally just a polite remark; many teachers would say something like this in the first lesson of the school year.
However, the little snakes of Slytherin were quite bold, and among them was a spoiled little princess like Pansy, who took him at his word and asked about the origin of that purple turban, asking why he wore it all day and why he smeared so much stinky garlic on it.
Quirrell appeared very uneasy and stammered—the turban was a gift from an African prince, in gratitude for his help in getting rid of a zombie.
This story sounded really fake, and combined with his completely negative eloquence, it instead attracted more skepticism.
This made Quirrell, who already had difficulty speaking, even more uncomfortable. He muttered a few incoherent, strange words about "Romania" and "vampires," then abruptly skipped the topic and announced the start of the formal lesson.
The little snakes of Slytherin were very dissatisfied with this, but they dared not offend the professor's dignity.
The Ravenclaws, who had enjoyed the show from the sidelines, did not voice their opinions and looked forward to the upcoming course content with great interest.
And then... they were greatly disappointed.
Theoretically, Defense Against the Dark Arts Class should of course teach some methods for dealing with Dark Artsand dangerous creatures, or even defensive spells.
But they were only in their first year, and this was the very first lesson.
Quirrell's first sentence was: "Pu—pu—put away your wa—wands, open your te—textbooks. In this lesson, we will talk about the de—definition, origin, and de—development of Dark Arts."
The flowers of the motherland let out a wail and withered instantly.
But next, they discovered that, despite Quirrell's struggle to speak, he actually had some substance. Outside of the regular textbook content, he interspersed his own insights and experiences, showing quite a bit of talent.
He would occasionally call on students to answer questions, especially favoring Soren and Malfoy, and even awarded them each one point.
Soren had to say, these points were a bit of a hot potato; he didn't actually want them that much...
The first half of the lesson passed without any major incidents.
In the second half of the lesson, Quirrell pulled a stunt that caused an uproar among the freshmen—he actually handed out a test paper to everyone and wanted to have a pop quiz, with the reason being to check everyone's true level.
Merlin!
What kind of scummy teacher makes freshmen take a test in the very first lesson!
Students who hadn't previewed the textbook died on the spot, and those who had didn't fare much better, because the scope of this test paper covered the entire book "Dark Arts: A Guide to Self-Protection," which would be more suitable for a final exam.
Fortunately, they were all multiple-choice questions, so everyone could still guess.
When it came to this part, Soren actually perked up.
A test?
Tests are great!
He wished there were tests in every class; not only could he consolidate knowledge points and fill in gaps, but he could also rack up points beautifully by virtue of being first. He thought this Quirrell wasn't completely useless after all!
Picking up his quill excitedly, Soren licked his lips and happily began to answer the questions.
But as he worked, his sense of unease grew stronger.
The reason was that Quirrell, who should have been teaching on the podium, began walking around the classroom, using the excuse of patrolling.
And no matter where he walked, that gaze would always fall on Soren, spying on him from every angle.
Quirrell...
No, let's just say Lord Voldemort; he was paying attention to him...
When he realized this, Soren felt uncomfortable all over, more intensely than ever before.
This was the deranged Dark Lord; he was completely different from Dumbledore and Snape. He was truly that kind of villain who had committed all sorts of evil...
Furthermore, if he remembered correctly, this person was suspected to be the previous heir of the Chamber of Secrets, although he hadn't caused much of a stir at the time, and no one knew exactly what the situation was.
But the fact that he was paying attention to him was undoubtedly a terrible disaster.
Soren tried his best to suppress the panic in his heart, focusing his attention on the test paper and trying not to think too much.
But Quirrell seemed to be deliberately acting against him, walking right over.
"Tap, tap..."
Five meters behind.
"Tap, tap..."
Three meters behind.
"Tap, tap..."
One meter behind.
A gaze that felt almost tangible fixed onto Soren's back, giving him a real experience of feeling like he had thorns on his back.
Fortunately, Quirrell did not stop.
"Tap, tap..."
He walked past Soren's desk, and the pungent smell of garlic wafted by.
Just as Soren was about to let out a sigh of relief, his heart tightened suddenly—
Quirrell... he stopped.
He stopped at a position diagonally in front of Soren, as if checking the notes he had written on the blackboard earlier.
This action seemed harmless at first glance, but he—
—He had his back to Soren!
If it were any other troublemaker, they might want to make a few gestures at the professor who had his back to them, showing off their courage to their classmates.
But Soren absolutely dared not do that—Quirrell had his back to him, which was equivalent to—Lord Voldemortfacing him, less than half a meter away! He was likely looking down at him!
Damn it!
Wasn't "Harry Potter" a fairy tale!?
How could there be such dark and terrifying content in a fairy tale!!
"..."
"..."
Soren's heartbeat accelerated quietly, then was forcibly suppressed by him. He kept his head down, his eyes fixed on the test paper, pretending to be thinking.
"How to see through the misleading light of a Hinkypunk... Hinkypunk... Hinkypunk..."
He deliberately muttered softly to mislead Lord Voldemort, and incidentally to divert his own attention, not paying attention to the other person.
Quirrell stood in front of him for a long, long time, until a few snickers came from the back of the classroom, as if some students were messing around, and only then did he turn around and go over there to patrol.
Soren was finally able to breathe smoothly again.
Another quarter of an hour passed, and the pop quiz ended.
Quirrell asked everyone to read their textbooks on their own while he graded the test papers right there in class.
In this regard, his efficiency was much higher than his speaking; in less than a quarter of an hour, he announced the test results, highlighting the only student from both houses who had achieved a perfect score.
"Soren Re—Reed, perfect score!" Quirrell applauded him, "Ex—excellent student, Slytherin gets—gets three points!"
Under his gesture, Soren reluctantly stood up to accept the praise.
Before he could sit down, Quirrell suddenly asked: "Re—Reed, tell the class—tell us, how do you view Dark Arts?"
Damn it—
Soren wanted to curse again; what kind of death-trap question was this.
The Dark Lord asked him how he viewed Dark Arts?
Then how should he answer? —How could he answer?
After struggling for a long time, Soren slowly spoke:
"I believe that wizards should master magic and control their own emotions and minds.
According to books, Dark Arts is a type of evil magic driven by twisting the mind and extreme negative emotions. But in my opinion, it is the wizard themselves that is truly the problem; one shouldn't blame all the terrible consequences entirely on Dark Arts."
This was the catch-all answer he had given after careful consideration.
If Dumbledore were here, he could interpret this sentence as—
Dark Arts is a tool, and the wizard is the one using the tool. It emphasizes that magic itself has no absolute distinction between good and evil; the key lies in the will of the spellcaster.
This undoubtedly aligned very well with the purpose of Defense Against the Dark Arts Class and was consistent with Dumbledore's philosophy of emphasizing personal responsibility.
And switching to Lord Voldemort's stance, he still had room to argue—
That was to de-moralize Dark Arts, defining it as a technique that required emotional control, and attributing the responsibility to whether the wizard was powerful enough.
To Lord Voldemort, this should sound more like something an Ambitious Slytherin pursuing power would say—magic is innocent; weakness is the crime.
And Lord Voldemort was exactly the kind of person who firmly believed he was powerful enough to master Dark Arts without being backlashed!
This avoided the difficult problem of directly answering whether Dark Arts was good or bad.
The newly enrolled little beans clearly couldn't understand the deep meaning in Soren's words, but Quirrell and Lord Voldemort could.
The two beings in one body fell into a brief silence.
Subsequently, Quirrell's expression control suddenly went out of control, as if he were forcing a sentence out of his mouth: "Re—Reed, your understanding of Dark Arts is too—too one-sided. Dark Arts—is—is capable of eroding the soul, causing people to fa—fall—"
Before he could finish his sentence, his entire facial features twisted, one of his eyes twitching madly, faintly revealing an expression of agonizing madness.
But just a split second later, he shuddered all over and returned to normal.
"Not a bad answer. Slytherin gets another point."
When he said this, he didn't stammer at all, and there was a depth in his eyes looking at Soren that hadn't been seen before.
Soren smiled and bowed, sitting down while pretending to be calm, pushing his Oscar-level acting skills to the limit.
After that, the lesson proceeded normally, appearing calm and peaceful.
"Ring, ring—"
When the bell rang for the end of the class, Soren actually felt a sense of redemption and quickly followed the other students to slip out of the garlic-filled classroom.
In the classroom, Quirrell watched the freshmen from the two houses leave, then suddenly clutched his head and squatted down in pain, muttering to himself, begging for someone's forgiveness...
Chapter 40: Soren Reed and the Magic Library: Chapter 60: The Cat Lady is Old, Her Charm Gone...
After escaping the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classclassroom, it took Soren a long while to calm down and suppress the palpitations in his heart.
Honestly, if it weren't for Harry Potter drawing fire in front of him, he would have had the impulse to anonymously report Quirrell right then and there, risking the plot going off the rails just to drive that damned Lord Voldemort out of Hogwarts.
But if he did that, his advantage of foresight would be greatly diminished, and the variables in the coming years would surge; it would be a lose-lose situation.
For now... he could only endure it.
After all, this was Hogwarts Castle, Dumbledore's territory, and Lord Voldemort, who was left with only a remnant soul, would never dare to act rashly now.
His primary goal remained to grow stronger as quickly as possible, lest he be passive at every turn.
While pondering, he headed toward the Transfigurationclassroom, once again claiming the honor of being the first to arrive.
It was the long break, and the other first-years were busy squeezing in the last bit of playtime, so he was the only one in the classroom.
Oh wait, no—there was someone else on the podium...
Oh right, right! The "tabby cat" crouching on the podium certainly couldn't be counted as a "person"!
Caught between reaching out to pet it or meowing, Soren chose to bow respectfully.
What else could he do? He certainly knew this cat was Professor McGonagall's Animagus form.
He also knew that Professor McGonagall intentionally used this form to welcome the first-years, preparing to leave them with the most profound first impression and to spark their enthusiasm for Transfiguration.
Truly, her intentions were profound!
In order not to make his actions seem too abrupt, Soren observed the tabby cat for a while before bowing, then pretended to recognize her true identity from the markings around her eyes that resembled square spectacles.
The dignified tabby cat looked at him, nodded elegantly, and even placed a paw in front of its mouth, making a "don't say anything" gesture.
Soren nodded in return and quickly claimed the prime seat in the middle of the front row.
Having just experienced the scare from Lord Voldemort, he was now extremely happy to be with the other professors at Hogwarts, allowing his startled little heart to calm down.
Before long, students began to file into the classroom.
This time, they weren't having class with the Ravenclaws; instead, it was the badgers from Hufflepuff.
Soren had to say, they were probably the easiest group of children to get along with among the four houses, remaining friendly even toward him, a Slytherin.
Without a doubt, the newly arrived students also discovered the cat on the podium.
A few girls obsessed with fluffy things even hesitated as they stepped forward, preparing to pet the cat. But in the end, they were all repelled by the tabby cat's incredible majesty and couldn't achieve their wish.
Time continued to march on until students from both houses had all arrived, and the bell rang for class, yet the students still hadn't seen the Transfiguration professor.
Just then, the silver-grey tabby cat stood up and walked elegantly to the edge of the podium.
With a light leap and a one-and-a-half turn in the air, its petite form instantly elongated and grew larger. By the time it landed, it was already an elderly witch wearing deep green robes and square spectacles.
It was none other than Professor McGonagall, who had led the first-years through the Sorting Ceremony.
Elegant! Simply elegant!
Soren really wanted to applaud Professor McGonagall. He felt that if she were even forty or fifty years younger, this single move alone would definitely make her the dream lover of many male students and the idol of many female students!
It was just a pity—the cat lady was old, her charm gone...
From Professor McGonagall's deliberately stern face, the students could only feel the majesty washing over them, without a single romantic thought.
Oh wait, no, they also thought Professor McGonagall was cool!
Professor McGonagall herself was clearly aware of this, so she was very proud, introducing herself with a short opening statement and demonstrating the magic and fun of Transfiguration to the students.
The effect was shockingly good!
The classroom was instantly filled with excited shouts like, "Transfiguration is so cool!" and "Professor, I want to learn this!"
Professor McGonagall raised her hands and pressed them down gently, easily controlling the entire room and beginning the lesson with a perfect classroom atmosphere.
"Transfiguration is the most complex and dangerous magic that first-year students can encounter. Before I begin teaching you, I require you to treat this subject with the utmost seriousness and diligence.
If anyone dares to misbehave in my class, the price they will have to pay will not be as simple as losing house points or serving detention—"
As she spoke, she waved her wand, turning the podium into a large white pig, and once the students had seen it clearly, she turned it back.
The first-years' enthusiasm soared once again.
However, the badgers were simply happy about the magic of Transfiguration, while the little snakes had more wicked thoughts; many of them secretly frightened their companions nearby, threatening to turn them into pigs too!
Professor McGonagall gave a light cough, and without needing to cast a spell, she unleashed a mass silencing charm, proceeding with the lesson in an orderly fashion.
From the very beginning, the Slytherin students realized that this professor's level of skill was by no means comparable to Professor Binns, who could chant people to sleep, or the stuttering Quirrell.
To a certain extent, they were finally attending a high-quality class at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
After going through the theoretical knowledge in the first half of the lesson, as soon as the second half began, Professor McGonagall distributed a matchstick to everyone, requiring them to strictly follow the steps and attempt to turn the matchstick into a needle.
Hearing this requirement, Malfoy, who had deliberately sat in the same row as Soren, was delighted.
He had specifically asked upperclassmen about the course schedule for previous first-years last night, knowing the content of the Transfiguration class in advance, and had even secretly practiced all night.
It was all to defeat Soren and wash away his previous humiliation!
Now, the opportunity had arrived—
Point the wand at the matchstick, focus, and imagine what it should transform into.
Take a deep breath...
"One, two, three—Vera Verto!"
Malfoy stared intently at the matchstick, and a faint light appeared at the tip of his wand. The yellowish-brown wooden stick suddenly trembled, tiny sparks splattered from its surface, and in the blink of an eye, it twisted into a slender, shiny silver shape—the matchstick had truly turned into a needle, lying steadily on the desk.
Yeah! Nice, I did it!
I succeeded on the first try—!
Malfoy's mouth curled up wildly, and as he wished, he heard the admiration of his classmates ringing in his ears.
"That's amazing! How did you do that!"
"This is practically a work of art!"
"Can I take a look? This is just too beautiful~~~"
Yes! That's it, keep admiring me!
Malfoy was overjoyed, his mouth almost stretching to his ears. He proudly picked up his needle, intending to satisfy the girl who wanted to "take a look."
Although the voice was unfamiliar and likely belonged to a Hufflepuff, he was in a good mood and didn't care about such things.
When he turned his head, however, he saw that the classmates he imagined surrounding him did not exist.
Or rather... they had indeed gathered around, but they were gathered around Soren...
He had also succeeded on the first try!?
Malfoy refused to believe it and shoved his way into the crowd, his gaze instantly captured by that silver needle—
What a perfect work of art it was!
The body of the needle shimmered with a cold luster, and upon closer inspection, it actually had serpentine patterns winding around it, while the eye of the needle was carved into a snake's mouth holding a pearl, so smooth it seemed naturally formed.
Even Professor McGonagall couldn't help but pick it up and examine it repeatedly, giving it the highest praise:
"Undoubtedly an 'O'. Only the most resolute will can accurately restore the image imagined in one's mind. There must also be the most precise control to perfectly manifest the image. I can be certain that you are very talented at Transfiguration, Mr. Soren Reed.
Oh—right, three points to Slytherin! For your outstanding performance!"
Soren accepted the praise modestly, glancing inadvertently at the ashen-faced Malfoy.
Knowing the class content a day in advance, is that so impressive?
It was indeed impressive, but he had known for over a month and had practiced countless times for it!
Heh, little trash~ You've lost to me by too much~
Soren Reed and the Magic Library: Author's Note on Launch _(:з]∠)_
As the title suggests, after more than a year, the time has finally come to write an author's note for the launch, and I have many mixed feelings _(:з]∠)_
First, let's talk about the plot core of this book, which has actually already been said through the protagonist's mouth—[Wanting to conquer the world, and also wanting to be loved.]
I believe that as the core satisfaction points for male-oriented web novels, these two are completely sufficient.
As for what follows—[Still wanting to read every book, wanting to be invincible, wanting to be immortal, wanting eternal youth, wanting to know everything, wanting a harmonious harem, wanting to be indefatigable, and wanting—]
These are just some of the elements needed to achieve the two core points above.
And in order to avoid "poison points" and "minefields," what I can promise is—a large harem, a satisfying novel, no NTR, no cuckolding, no torturing the protagonist, no missing out on female characters, and I won't write disgusting plot points. All heroines will be collected and remain pure. I will design reasonable emotional arcs for each heroine, and then let them fall in love with the protagonist _(:з]∠)_
As for the main thread of this book, it is naturally the protagonist's path of struggle, or rather, his path of conquest, attempting to write something new within the old subject matter of Harry Potter _(:з]∠)_
Regarding updates—Hmm... my update schedule is a bit awkward.
Five chapters on the launch day (I wanted ten, but I don't have that many in reserve). The last few days of March—28th, 29th, 30th, and 31st—will probably be three chapters, and starting from April 1st, I will try to burst out 4~5 chapters.
The reason it's so awkward is twofold.
First, this book started on March 2nd, so no matter how much I update in March, I won't get a penny of the full-attendance bonus. Of course, this is my own choice. I traded a month of full-attendance bonus for a month of the new book period; a person should still have some dreams QAQ.
Second is my old book... to be accurate, my debut work. After my second book launched and had massive updates, it caused the old book to be abandoned. It wasn't until I finished writing the second book that I had the time and mental energy to wrap up the old one.
In fact, while I was updating this new book, the old book was also being updated, which resulted in me having no reserve chapters.
The good news is that the old book has entered the final battle and will be successfully wrapped up in a few chapters. I plan to get this done before April 1st and put all my energy into the new book, so I don't have to write two books a day and have a mental breakdown _(:з]∠)_
PS: This is not an April Fool's joke, abba abba _(:з]∠)_
Regarding the concept of this book—as it currently stands, this book will be a pure Harry Potter worldview, drawing from the Ancient Magic concept in Hogwarts Legacy and the special effects from the Fantastic Beasts movies, but I've banned the game plot and the transfer student, as it felt too incompatible with the original setting.
Considering that the original work's description of things outside the school isn't exactly substantial, I will strive to expand the worldview, bringing the Muggle World into the mix as well, adding some supernatural revelations, magi-science, bloodline modifications, artificial sorceresses, artificial witchers, and such (
And also the thousand-year-old geezer Salazar Slytherin, the perfect mentor and tool _(:з]∠)_
Regarding the plot pacing—ever since I decided to write a pure Harry Potter fanfiction, I felt that a fast-paced, high-conflict writing style doesn't suit this fairy-tale world.
Because the students are all locked in a strictly managed school, there are simply no scenarios where they can act freely or fight to the death, at least not for the lower grades. Making it too brutal would mean following Lord Voldemort's old path, which is not advisable.
So, after much thought, I came up with a writing style featuring strong character designs, strong plots, plenty of foreshadowing, and an effort to improve immersion. For readers accustomed to fast pacing, this is indeed a very slow pace.
But how should I put it... the new book has 145,000 words in the free period, which should be enough for readers to see the pacing of this book. After launch, I will update more to push the plot and will appropriately adjust the pacing, but it won't turn into fast pacing in the general sense, as that would only please no one _(:з]∠)_
For example, when attending the first History of Magicclass, I will describe in detail what the class is like, while also writing a bit about what the professor is like, in order to increase immersion for readers who haven't read the original or have fuzzy memories, so they know what the class is generally like.
But after this, whenever they attend History of Magicagain, if there's no important plot or foreshadowing, I will basically skip over it. Basically, all classes will be written like this; after all, I can't write about attending classes every single day _(:з]∠)_
Regarding the atmosphere of this book—considering this is a relatively fan-oriented work, and I am not a fan of "dark, deep, and cruel" themes, I plan to appropriately continue the fairy-tale atmosphere of the original work, especially when they are in the lower grades and in Hogwarts Castle. Because at this stage, except for the protagonist who is an adult mentally, the surrounding companions are all little kids, so I might as well write more lighthearted and happy content, and throw in some sweet campus romance _(:з]∠)_
The protagonist's main path is divided into two: one is to conquer other students within the school using strength and charm, winning them over as his followers; the other is naturally to proceed in secret, building his own power, involving both the Muggle World and the Wizarding World.
In the early stages, I really have to go with the "straight-A student" route, striving to enhance strength, otherwise he won't be able to do anything.
Regarding other things—I've rambled on a lot, and it seems there's nothing else to say. Rewards... let's forget about that for now. If I really were to do rewards, it would be in May. If I have a chance to hit the top ten of the new book monthly ticket list, I might give it a try; if not, forget it, I'm too lazy...
This time, I must learn to stockpile chapters. The feeling of waking up every morning and being 10,000 words in debt is too terrifying, too terrifying...
Oh right, right, since you've read this far, support this writing trainee who has been practicing for less than a kun-year, please, the protagonist can do anything QAQ
Chapter 41
"Bang, bang, bang—"
Kowtowing to my potential cyber foster parents OTZ
Soren Reed and the Magic Library: Chapter 61: Bratty kids should be strung up and taught a lesson! (Asking for first subscriptions)
"..."
Watching Soren, who was surrounded by the crowd and showered with praise, and then looking at himself, ignored by everyone, Malfoy quietly shattered.
He felt as if he had been hit by a dark curse; his ears were completely deaf, and he could no longer hear anything.
This symptom lasted until class ended, and it wasn't until he finished lunch that he felt a little better.
However...
In the afternoon Charms Class class, misfortune descended upon him once again.
After explaining the theoretical basis and precautions for the Levitation Charm, Professor Flitwick encouraged the first-years to give it a try.
Malfoy, who had been well-prepared, gave it his all and managed to make his feather float on his first attempt, hovering it above his head.
Just as Professor Flitwick was about to praise him, he saw Soren, who was standing nearby, raise his wand as well.
With an elegant flick and swish, he incanted: "Wingardium Leviosa—"
As his wand moved nimbly, the feather danced gracefully, performing an aerial ballet for everyone.
Professor Flitwick, who was unusually short, let out an excited shriek and tumbled headfirst into the stack of books he used to stand on. Once he climbed back up, naturally—
"Three points to Slytherin! Everyone, look, what a perfect Levitation Charm! Soren Reed, right? Good lad, I can tell you've put in a lot of hard work!"
Under Professor Flitwick's enthusiastic praise, the little badgers, who were attending class with the little snakes, were filled with envy.
With a first-year as impressive as Soren in Slytherin, it seemed like the House Cup was out of their reach this year. Hmm... though it seemed like it was never really in their reach in previous years either...
On the other hand, the Slytherin first-years all had strange expressions, trying hard to maintain an awkward but polite smile while sneaking glances at the slick-haired, blonde young master Malfoy.
Their peeking went unanswered because Malfoy had gone deaf again.
Not only deaf, but also dizzy, and having difficulty breathing—he was almost gasping for air...
Malfoy didn't even know what happened afterward. By the time he came to his senses, class was over, and he had returned to the Slytherin Common Room, feeling utterly exhausted.
Using his last bit of courage, he reviewed the scoring situation.
As of the end of the second day of classes, the score between him and Soren was 2:14, a ratio that was despair-inducing.
The competition had clearly only just begun, yet he felt as if he were about to lose...
The other Slytherin first-years also realized this. Looking at the sullen-faced Malfoy, even their speech became cautious.
Blaise, who was bent on getting close to Malfoy and becoming his confidant, began to scheme.
He thought that if he could help young master Malfoy, he would surely win his favor. The method was simple: he couldn't help Malfoy gain points, but he could certainly cause Soren to lose them!
How did that saying go—
"A strategist enters the game with their own life, and a single move can gain half a piece against heaven!"
Blaise racked his naive and not-so-bright brain, and a world-shaking piece of wisdom gradually emerged in his mind—
Eight o'clock that night.
The Library closed. Soren, having failed once again to persuade Madam Pince to work overtime, was ruthlessly expelled.
A moment later, he waved goodbye to Hermione and walked down the spiral staircase alone.
Returning to the Slytherin Common Room, he still chose to go to the first-year lounge to read.
It wasn't that he liked staying with this group of bratty kids; it was just that the dormitory was very inconvenient and not a good place to study. Plus, the school's curfew was early, so he really had nowhere else to go...
Walking straight to the desk in the corner without looking sideways, Soren began another day of disciplined living.
Not far behind him, Malfoy had self-taught the same low-pressure aura as Snape, making the other first-years feel awkward, and the atmosphere was quite cold.
Just at this moment, Blaise steeled his heart and began to act!
His plan was simple: use the most vicious ridicule to provoke Soren, preferably getting him to fight, so that he could get him heavily penalized!
Young master Malfoy, witness me—
Taking one last look at the despondent Malfoy, Blaisebravely charged in and forcibly changed the subject: "Who says he's a hero of Slytherin? I don't think so!"
The other first-years sitting together were collectively confused.
Weren't they all just talking about not having to wake up early tomorrow morning?
What was this guy suddenly butting in and talking about?
Blaise had no energy to care about them, focusing all his attention on observing Soren.
Seeing that he had no reaction, he continued with his outrageous remarks: "He hangs out with Gryffindors as soon as class ends. Not only does he not return to the House table to eat, but he's also tangled up with that Gryffindor girl! He's simply a traitor to Slytherin!"
Soren, with his back to them, frowned irritably.
He had been on edge all day thanks to Quirrell and was already annoyed; this brat actually dared to come and provoke him...
Blaise keenly sensed that his page-turning had slowed down and joyfully delivered the killing blow: "In my opinion, the two of them are quite a match—they're both Mud—bloods from the Muggle World!"
As soon as the most vicious insult in the Wizarding Worldwas uttered, even the distracted Malfoy was stunned and looked up at him.
The other first-years were the same.
Blaise took this as admiration and was just about to smile when he heard a crisp sound.
"Snap—"
The air suddenly went quiet.
The first-years collectively turned to look and saw Soren forcefully closing his heavy book and placing it steadily flat on the table.
From their angle, they couldn't see Soren's full face, only catching a glimpse of his profile and that slightly upturned corner of his mouth. He... he seemed to be smiling?
No, it should be—he was actually smiling!?
Soren was indeed smiling, but it had nothing to do with happiness; he was purely laughing out of anger.
He felt he had been tolerant and accommodating enough, as he perceived himself as an adult, while Malfoy and the others were just a group of eleven-year-old brats.
Coupled with the constraints of school rules and the caution of being under the nose of the White Wizard, he had repeatedly backed down.
But they insisted on provoking him again and again.
At this moment, Blaise's insulting remarks actually gave him an excellent reason to take action. He really had to thank him!
As for a thank-you gift, how about being hung upside down from the ceiling to rinse his mouth?
Closing the book—
Rising and turning—
Wand falling into his hand, raising his hand to thrust—
Skipping the flick and swish, he incanted loudly: "Wingardium Leviosa—!"
The power of the spell wrapped around Blaise's raised right foot, yanking him downward, dragging him straight from the sofa to the floor, and then pulling him vertically upward, hanging him upside down!
This series of actions happened too fast. Malfoy and the others were still stunned when they heard the panic-stricken screaming coming from above.
Under their helpless gaze, Blaise's body continued to rise until his toes touched the ceiling, and only when Soren stopped casting the spell did he experience a free fall.
"Waaaahhh—"
Watching the ground rapidly approaching beneath him, Blaise's scream became increasingly ear-piercing.
The first-years were all scared silly by his screams and couldn't even think to save him.
Fortunately, Soren didn't actually intend to hurt anyone; he stopped the Levitation Charm just to scare the other boy, and to follow up with the second hit of his small combo—
"Scourgify—!"
With his deliberate intent, the spell manifested as a deep purple ray that instantly hit Blaise's mouth, cutting off his scream.
Immediately, a second Levitation Charm followed, hanging him back up to the ceiling before he could make intimate contact with the floor.
This time, Blaise finally stopped screaming.
—Because every time he opened his mouth, pink soap bubbles would spill out!
Only then did the first-years come to their senses, looking at Soren with shocked eyes. They hadn't expected him to actually dare to take action, and so sharply at that!
Causing such a big scene in the Common Room at past eight o'clock in the evening naturally attracted the attention of the older students.
In an instant, a large group of senior students gathered around like sharks smelling blood, crowding the front row to watch the conflict between the first-year little beans!
Soren Reed and the Magic Library: Chapter 62: The Attack of Cassandra
In the Common Room.
The quiet of the night was broken, and the sound of whispering rose one after another.
The first-years, led by Malfoy, looked at the crowd nervously. Seeing that the seniors were all standing, they hurriedly stood up as well, with their hands hanging obediently at their sides—at first glance, it looked just like they were being punished.
Whether it was an illusion or not, they felt as if half the House had gathered around, with the number of people reaching over a hundred.
Among all the first-years being watched, Soren was the most eye-catching.
Because he was still holding his wand high, hanging another boy upside down from the ceiling, subjecting him to a public execution.
Even funnier was that the boy would spit bubbles every time he opened his mouth.
Pink bubbles of all sizes drifted down, which had a certain childlike charm.
Seeing that the older students had gathered around and the first-year still hadn't stopped, many people developed the mindset of watching the show without fearing it would get too big, so they didn't stop it and just kept watching.
Finally, the Prefect responsible for maintaining order hurried over.
Cassandra held her wand and, like Moses parting the sea, separated the crowded crowd and arrived at the front row of the jury box.
She looked up at Blaise, who was hanging in the air, and then looked at the calm-faced Soren, her expression as cold as frost.
"Put him down!" she said in a commanding tone.
Soren looked at the female Prefect and nodded calmly.
He actually wanted to just cancel the Levitation Charm like that, let Blaise suffer a bit, and cure his bad attitude.
But if he really landed headfirst, even if the height was less than ten meters, it could still cause serious consequences.
Teaching a lesson and causing harm were two different concepts; Soren wanted to avoid the latter to avoid leaving a bad impression on those with ill intent.
Considering this, he still lowered Blaise.
Only when he was less than two meters from the ground did he flip him over and quietly cancel the spell.
Blaise, who had just relaxed his vigilance, was startled, but it was too late to react. He immediately performed a scene of falling from the sky and landing face-first.
"Bang—"
"Ugh, wooo—!"
The force was just right: stunned but not brain-damaged!
Blaise struggled to sit up, his hands continuously rubbing his bruised cheeks, while bubbles kept spilling from his mouth.
Cassandra glared at Soren, raised her wand, and waved it: "Finite Incantatem!"
Soren's spell was dispelled.
Blaise clutched his own throat with both hands, struggling to spit out the last few bubbles, and was finally able to speak again.
This brat's brain wasn't too sharp, but his nature was stubborn. He still remembered the original intention of starting the conflict, and the moment he opened his mouth, he complained: "Prefect Cassandra, he suddenly attacked me!"
This was a fact that anyone with eyes could see.
Consequently, the gazes of Cassandra and the onlookers focused on Soren's face, waiting for his explanation.
Soren leisurely lowered his wand and said in a tone so calm it was surprising: "I don't think this was an attack. I just felt that Blaise's mouth was too foul, so I used a cleaning spell to help him rinse it."
"Pfft—"
This remark had quite a sense of humor, and someone in the crowd laughed out loud.
Cassandra's knife-like gaze immediately swept over them. The snickerers used a high-speed backstep, shielding themselves with the crowd.
After resolving the off-field issue, she looked at Soren again: "This cannot cover up the fact that you maliciously cast a spell on a classmate. You'd better have a sufficiently justifiable reason, otherwise—"
She didn't continue, but those who knew her were somewhat surprised, because her words were very biased toward the boy who had started it, almost like a warning.
Chapter 42
With Soren Reed's intelligence, he naturally understood the hidden meaning in her words and immediately spoke up: "Blaise insulted me first; he called me and my friends Mudbloods!"
As soon as these words were out, whispers broke out in the crowd again.
Mudblood—that word shouldn't be thrown around lightly; it's an easy way to make mortal enemies. Even for them, they usually only said it in private; they would never dare to use it in public.
If this first-year being reprimanded had called someone a Mudblood to their face, then he deserved whatever trouble he got into.
Cassandra's icy expression softened slightly, and she looked at Blaise with disgust: "First-year, is that true?"
Under her terrifying gaze, Blaise hesitated and nodded, but still insisted: "I did say it... but he started it, and he cast several spells on me, violating the school rules against maliciously harming fellow students!"
Cassandra's brow furrowed even tighter.
She had deliberately phrased it as "malicious spellcasting," but this dim-witted first-year insisted on calling it "malicious harm." The difference between the two was significant.
Watching the reactions of the first-years before her, combined with the various rumors from the past two days, she quickly understood what was going on, but she couldn't help but think... surely people couldn't be this stupid.
To confirm her suspicions, she took the initiative to ask Blaise: "You insulted him, and he retaliated. How do you think this should be handled?"
Hearing this, Blaise's heart stirred; he knew his opportunity had arrived!
He had lost so much face and risked being docked points himself, all just to drag Soren Reed down and pave the way for Master Malfoy.
Thinking of this, he couldn't help but look toward Malfoy, both to claim credit and in the hope that the other would remember his contribution.
Noticing his movement, many people followed his gaze toward the slick-haired boy who was completely unprepared.
Malfoy was stunned on the spot and almost wanted to deny it outright. He really couldn't fathom why Blaise was looking at him; did he want everyone to think that he had ordered him to do it, to make him call Soren Reed a Mudblood?
What a joke!
He only ever cursed in his heart; he would never say it out loud and give others ammunition. This Blaise must be crazy, trying to make him take the fall!
Malfoy's pale face began to flush again, and he had no way to vent his anger.
Seeing this reaction, even as stupid as Blaise was, he realized he hadn't handled it well and quickly turned his head back.
But he had already done it; stopping now would mean all his previous efforts were in vain, so he just went for it: "I think he violated school rules, and he should be docked points!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, the noise in the crowd miraculously vanished.
All the older students stopped talking and stared at him coldly.
In the silence, a chill that made one's back feel cold spread wordlessly.
A drop of cold sweat slid down Blaise's temple, and before he could react to what was happening, Cassandra spoke quietly:
"How about this for a resolution—you insulted a classmate, ten points deducted, and one day of detention. He took the initiative to strike, violating school rules, also ten points deducted and one day of detention. How about that?"
Blaise's mind was in chaos, and he instinctively looked toward Malfoy again.
Malfoy was about to go crazy, shaking his head frantically at him, signaling him not to agree, and hoping he wouldn't look at him!
—He hadn't realized it before, but this guy was an absolute liability!
"..."
Blaise's mouth opened and closed, but he didn't know what to do.
Cassandra saw through his "idiot" nature, and her anger flared up. Her tone rose sharply: "What is the password to enter the common room? —Answer me!"
Blaise jolted: "Col-Collective honor?"
"So you do know?" Cassandra's eyes shifted to fury, "Then where is your sense of collective honor!?"
She raised her wand and pointed it unceremoniously at Blaise's nose: "You are a Slytherin!"
She pointed to Soren Reed: "He is a Slytherin!"
The tip of her wand swiveled to point at herself: "And I am a Slytherin!"
Finally, she rotated the wand, drawing a circle: "Everyone here is a Slytherin!"
"Now—because of your stupidity and his impulsiveness, you want to bring shame upon all of Slytherin. Is that what you mean!? Do you really think that's okay!?"
Soren Reed and the Magic Library: Chapter 63: The Slytherin Code—Strength Above All, The Strong Are Respected!
Before her voice had even faded, several older students standing near Blaise stepped out from the crowd, unable to resist wanting to "have a good talk" with this blockheaded first-year.
"All of you, get back—"
Cassandra promptly scolded them back, telling them not to add to the chaos.
Immediately after, she walked toward the first-years, standing before them, her eyes full of fire sweeping over each and every one of them.
Until they all lowered their heads in fear, she said in an icy tone: "After the Sorting Ceremony, I told you all—if there is conflict, try to resolve it privately, and always keep the sense of collective honor in mind!"
"It's only been how long, and you're already treating my words as wind in your ears!?"
The first-years trembled, and even Soren Reed didn't dare to provoke her at this moment.
At Hogwarts, a Prefect's authority was second only to the school staff; they really had the power to deduct points from ordinary students and give them detention!
After saying a few more harsh words and completely intimidating the first-years, Cassandra softened her tone: "I don't want to say the same thing a second time, but since you didn't remember it last time, I will say it again—"
"Slytherin has won the House Cup for six consecutive years and is preparing to aim for the incredibly glorious'seven-peat'! And this year is a crucial one!"
"But standing in our way is a resurgent Gryffindor, and their house has a heavyweight first-year this year—Harry Potter!"
Upon hearing this name, even the seventh-year students about to graduate wore solemn expressions.
"The Boy Who Lived, the Savior, the Champion of Gryffindor—these are all his titles. I believe I don't need to tell you how high his prestige and popularity are in the Wizarding World."
"Now, he is in our arch-rival Gryffindor, which is also the place where Dumbledore graduated. Those of us in the upper years all have a premonition that this year will be a year of fierce competition, and it will also be a quite difficult year."
"That is why I told you on the first day of school—remember the sense of collective honor, and do not bring shame to the house!"
She emphasized the sense of collective honor again, making the first-years too ashamed to lift their heads.
Feeling that the pressure was sufficient, Cassandra shifted the topic: "So, regarding today's matter, can you resolve it privately yourselves?"
The meaning of these words couldn't be clearer; she hoped they would settle it privately and not blow it out of proportion.
The first-years all looked at the two parties involved, urging them with their eyes to bow their heads quickly and not drag everyone else into being scolded.
Soren Reed looked the female Prefect straight in the eye, with no intention of being the first to yield.
It was a simple logic; he didn't feel he was wrong, so he was naturally righteous and confident. Even if he were docked points for it, he could just earn them back later; he had that much confidence!
Blaise didn't have as good a mindset as him.
He realized he had made a mistake now, but only rationally; emotionally, he couldn't quite accept it.
After all, he was only an eleven-year-old child. Once he felt wronged, his mindset began to crumble, and he just stubbornly refused to speak.
Seeing two such stubborn mules, Cassandra's fists clenched again.
Just as the atmosphere was at a stalemate, Malfoy, who had been unwilling to be implicated, bit the bullet and spoke: "Blaise—"
Blaise looked up in surprise.
"Apologize..."
"...What?"
"I said—apologize!" Malfoy was annoyed, "Apologize to Soren Reed, say sorry, and let's just let today's matter go; nobody needs to dwell on it anymore!"
He really didn't want to be dragged into this, but he remembered his father's teachings—as a leader, the most indispensable quality is a sense of responsibility; only by being able to take responsibility can one win the trust and following of subordinates.
Seeing Malfoy take this attitude, Blaise wavered again.
Perhaps he really should—
"No need."
A flat, calm voice suddenly came, interrupting Blaise's thoughts and drawing everyone's attention once again.
Soren Reed's expression was indifferent as he stated his position:
"I don't need that kind of insincere apology, and I don't intend to forgive your offense against me. We can let it slide this time, but I must warn you: if you dare to do this again, I will make you suffer the greatest pain within the bounds of not bringing shame to the house and what the rules allow."
"You are—" Blaise felt a surge of anger.
"Yes, this is a threat." Soren Reed said bluntly, "Keep your mouth in check! —And all of you!"
The blanket attack was aimed directly at the first-years of his year, leaving them dumbfounded.
The older students also looked over one after another.
To cause such a big scene and still dare to blatantly threaten classmates—such a strong-willed first-year was rare even in Slytherin.
But strangely, the upperclassmen had no dissatisfaction with his stance.
Because this behavior aligned with the most important code of Slytherin—Strength Above All, The Strong Are Respected!
Whoever is strong is right; it was just that simple and unadorned.
At least in this conflict, Soren Reed's performance was much better than that other idiot who only knew how to spout filth; everyone saw it with their own eyes.
Cassandra didn't speak up for Blaise either, scanning all the first-years again: "Very well, then this matter ends here, and from now on, follow this procedure. You all remember: if there is conflict, resolve it privately; if you can't resolve it, come find me, and I will find a way for you to resolve it, but no matter what—"
"Listen clearly, no matter what, do not take it to the professors! Whoever causes the house to lose points because of their own stupidity is a sinner to Slytherin, and they won't have an easy time for the next few years!"
Compared to Soren Reed's threat, the female Prefect's threat was undoubtedly more deterrent.
Even students from other years felt their scalps tingle, secretly reminding themselves to be well-behaved this year and not to run into the line of fire.
The incident came to an end.
Cassandra dispersed the crowd of onlookers, turned to look at the two main culprits, and pointed her wand toward the wall with the glowing text: "You two, go copy the First-Year Guidelines for me, one hundred times, and hand it to me before the night patrol tonight—right now!"
After saying this, she used a graceful Levitation Charm to move a square table under the wall, placed two chairs facing each other, and laid out parchment for copying on the table.
Soren Reed's mindset, which had always been as steady as an old dog, finally showed a crack.
Good heavens, what a lack of mercy.
To be punished with copying lines, it was his first time in this life...
"Go—!"
Seeing them not moving, the tip of the female Prefect's wand shone with a cold light, the threat evident.
The two first-years yielded...
Sitting in the chair on the right, Soren Reed irritably took out his quill and began to copy the First-Year Guidelines that he had already memorized, sighing in his heart about the time for reading that was being wasted in vain.
After entering the state of copying, he was copying numbly while glancing casually at the first-year area, but he was surprised to find that Malfoy was no longer there.
*
Malfoy was naturally not there.
Long after the crowd dispersed, he had taken his core group and run out of the common room, taking advantage of the time before curfew to find a quiet corner to clear his head.
That idiot Blaise, suddenly pulling such a stunt, really opened his eyes!
Seeing his gloomy face, the only girl in the small group spoke up in his defense: "That Soren Reed is really something; he resorts to violence at the drop of a hat, completely disregarding us!"
As the "female leader" of the first-years, Pansy firmly resisted such unruly behavior.
Malfoy was annoyed and didn't pay attention to her.
Pansy said again: "But he does have some backbone; he retaliated on the spot when insulted, which is not quite what we imagined. He is clearly just a Mud—"
Before the insulting word could come out, she saw Malfoy's disapproving look and hesitated, holding back: "What? Don't you think so too? Come to think of it, I don't think I've seen you curse at him..."
"Curse him for what?" Malfoy rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"Don't play dumb; you know what I mean."
"Hmm... I know what you want to say, but can you first tell me who is winning this competition?"
Pansy was stunned for a moment, vaguely understanding his meaning: "But the competition is going to last for four weeks, and it's only been two days; isn't it too early to talk about winning or losing?"
"That logic holds." Malfoy's tone improved a little, "But at the moment, I am still trailing by a large margin, which is an indisputable fact. In this situation, if I call him a Mudblood, then what am I?"
An heir to the Sacred Twenty-Eight who can't even beat a Mudblood?
He really didn't want to say the latter part, but everyone present could hear the words he left unsaid.
"Anyway, let's just leave it at that. Right, Crabbe, Goyle—"
Malfoy called out to his two sidekicks, "Remember, in future gatherings, make Blaise sit as far away as possible; don't let him get near me. I can't stand that idiot anymore!"
Chapter 43
"Oh... Oh!"
The two bodyguards responded one after another, remembering his instructions.
From now on, although Blaise would not be kicked out of the small group, he was now an outsider, and they would no longer let him play with them.
This was the fate of a loser!
Soren Reed and the Magic Library: Chapter 64 - Soren: I'm so worried about Snape...
After the farce ended, more than an hour passed before Soren finished the lines he was punished to copy.
It could only be said that, fortunately, the Freshman Guidelines were not long; otherwise, wasting so much time would really drive him crazy...
After handing the parchment to Cassandra with a flick of his wrist, the female Prefect did not lecture him again, just gave him a "Don't cause trouble for me" look, and let him off easily just like that.
Soren smiled gratefully at her and finally returned to his throne in the corner, facing the observation window.
The closed book opened again, and time accelerated.
In the Slytherin Common Room, the myriad states of human life played out in turns.
There was laughter, there was worry, and there was confusion, but their joys and sorrows were their own and could not affect the lonely reader in the slightest.
Night fell once more, and the crowd dispersed again; only in the corner where Soren sat did the sound of turning pages never cease.
Approaching three in the morning, the "History of Modern Magic" in Soren's hands reached its final page, fulfilling its historical mission—[I Love Reading] unlock progress + 1.
He had received this book less than two days ago, and Soren had already finished learning the knowledge points inside, and even discovered a small surprise.
That was—
For magic books of the same type, after seriously finishing one, the learning speed for the next book could be accelerated.
For example, "History of Magic" compared to "History of Modern Magic"; he could completely skip the repetitive parts in both books without affecting the system's learning evaluation of him.
The other book, "Important Magical Events of the Twentieth Century," was the same; he was confident he could finish learning it within a day.
Looking at it this way, unlocking the reading achievement had become much simpler, far less difficult than he had imagined.
But he immediately decided—no more reading history books, because this was a shortcut for evil cultivation, and its real help to him was limited.
He urgently needed to improve his strength now, so he should specialize in spell books and learn more powerful spells. At most, study a bit more Potions and Herbology Class, find a way to make a batch of auxiliary items, and incidentally look for ways to make money.
The scene Lord Voldemort caused today put too much pressure on him, forcing him to adjust his study plan.
While conceiving new plans, he packed his schoolbag and went to the washroom to take a shower before going to sleep.
The warm water flowed over his body, washing away his exhaustion while helping him enter a state of focus.
The "Analects" says: "I examine myself three times a day."
His time was too precious, so he simply performed a subtraction—I will examine myself once every three days.
It just so happened that today was his third day at Hogwarts, and it was time to reflect and summarize the gains and omissions of these past few days.
Soren closed his eyes contentedly, letting the water fall from the top of his head.
From the departure of the Hogwarts Express, to the Sorting Ceremony, and then to Slytherin House, the bits and pieces that occurred during this period could be described as wonderful and extremely fulfilling.
The problem was—
Was he a bit too high-profile?
Thinking of his performance over the past few days, Soren sighed helplessly.
Being too excellent had this one downside; he was like a searchlight in the dark night, capable of blinding everyone's eyes from two miles away. How was he supposed to hide?
And that damn Sorting Hat, with one shout, it almost rendered his plan of forbearance invalid, and many big shots outside his plan began to pay attention to him.
The "gou dao" route of wandering outside the plot with Hermione and becoming a "Ten-Mile Slope Sword God" would probably not work.
He must improve himself as soon as possible before Lord Voldemort wins the resurrection match, so that he would not be swept along by the plot and pin all his hopes on Harry.
Currently, basic knowledge could be obtained from the Library.
The next task was to find a competent mentor.
It would be best if it were the kind of mentor who had an extremely high level, sincerely taught knowledge, and also had some unique skills or special talents.
Soren had already experienced the extremely low efficiency of exploring on his own, and he did not want to repeat the same mistakes.
Looking at the entire Hogwarts, the most ideal candidate right now was the great lover—the Head of Slytherin—Snape!
He had the strength, he had the unique skills, he was a Potions master, and he was especially protective of his own!
What a perfect mentor candidate!
One of the reasons Soren showed off his affection with Hermione on the first day of school was to stimulate Snape, hoping to trigger his transference psychology, seeing himself and Hermione as his former self and Lily, and thus giving them some preferential treatment.
Judging by the fact that he hadn't invited him for tea these past two days, it should have had some effect.
Next, he had to pray for Mom... Harry's mom to manifest, she must break Snape's defenses hard, so that he would have a chance to receive special care from the Potionsprofessor.
Mom, please!
And there was the Chamber of Secrets...
Hmm... There were no classes tomorrow morning, so he would talk about it then.
After rushing through his shower, Soren hit the bed just in time, exactly at three in the morning.
*
With a blink of an eye, Wednesday arrived.
The Slytherin first years only had two Herbology Classclasses today, one in the second period of the morning and one in the first period of the afternoon.
Many freshmen simply gave up on breakfast to get a good sleep.
Soren, of course, could not be as degenerate as them; he arrived at the Great Hall on time to find Hermione at the Gryffindor table.
The two good friends had breakfast together again and chatted casually about today's class schedule.
Not long after, Hermione, who had a small appetite, put down her knife and fork early and wiped her mouth elegantly with a napkin.
Seeing that there was papaya milk in the drinks today, Soren hurriedly and diligently poured her a full glass.
Hermione didn't think much of it, and while drinking, she leaned closer to him and said in a mysterious tone: "Don't hide it, I already know— "
A trace of surprise appeared in Soren's eyes.
The commotion before curfew last night had already reached the ears of the Gryffindor freshmen this morning?
Hogwarts' gossip transmission speed was quite something...
"I heard there's a freshman competition in your house, and it's quite intense?"
"Oh... is that what you're talking about." Soren suddenly realized.
"Otherwise?" Hermione was a bit confused, paused, and continued, "Secretly telling you, there's a girl in our house named Parvati; her younger sister was sorted into Ravenclaw and happened to have class with you that day. She said she saw the internal struggle in your house with her own eyes."
When she said this, Soren also remembered and said casually: "Yes, I remember there is an Indian girl named Patil in Ravenclaw. I noticed her that day."
Hermione nodded quickly, and then... suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable in her heart, very concerned about his words.
Soren noticed that Ravenclaw girl...
Was it because... she was very pretty?
Just like Parvati, everyone felt her appearance was very attractive and impressive.
In contrast, the evaluations she received from her classmates were mostly "cute," and also "I love you to death"—when she lent her homework to them to copy...
"Oh... is that so..." Hermione stammered, unable to help asking, "What's wrong with that girl? I only know Parvatiand haven't met her sister yet."
Soren was busy eating and said without raising his head: "She was reading extracurricular books in class and giggled while reading. She should really be glad that it was History of Magic; if it were any other class, that book would have been smashed onto her own head~"
So that was it!
A poor student who slacked off in class; no wonder Soren would notice her.
Hermione's brow smoothed out immediately, and her little dimples returned to her face.
Soren Reed and the Magic Library: Chapter 65 - Ghost Girl, Superb Stalking in Progress!
The inexplicable tension came quickly and went quickly.
Hermione quickly returned to her lively and cheerful self, caring about Soren's situation in Slytherin House.
Soren told her confidently that the matter had been properly resolved, telling her not to worry.
This was not a lie; ever since he taught Blaise a lesson last night, other freshmen didn't dare to provoke him casually, which made his ears much quieter.
After chatting for a few more sentences, Hermione recalled her original intention of mentioning this, and declared to him with feigned strength: "Since it's a competition, count me in too! I want to win—!"
The lifelong striving Miss Granger, officially participating!
Looking at her shining eyes, Soren knew that her determination could not be shaken.
"But this is an internal competition of Slytherin. The only contestants are me and Malfoy. You can't participate, at most you can just tag along."
"How could that be? The senior students told us that this year is a crucial year, and Gryffindor must go all out to win the House Cup and reverse the decline of many years in one fell swoop! I also want to work hard to add points for the house, and by the way, compete with you!"
"Humph—"
Soren snorted through his nose to answer, "Then bring it on. By the way, I'll tell you a little trick. When you want to know your point-adding situation, you can tap the point container with your wand, and it will display specific information."
"Oh oh, that's really convenient!"
Hermione dangled her legs gently, her gaze lingering on Soren's side profile for a moment, then looked down at the milk in the cup, her mouth curling up slightly, looking very happy.
After a few more minutes, Soren was also full, and out of concern, he asked about Hermione's current situation in Gryffindor.
He remembered very clearly that in the original book, Hermione had very poor popularity when she first enrolled, and was given nicknames not long after school started.
Hermione trusted him very much, lowered her voice, and told him the truth.
"This and that, and so on..."
Listening, Soren's expression became a bit strange: "You even lent your homework to others to copy?"
In his impression, Hermione should have been very disgusted by this kind of thing and had even retorted to Harry and Ron.
Hermione didn't know what she thought of, her eyes became a bit evasive: "I, I actually didn't want to either. Lending them homework isn't really helping them. But if I don't lend it, they keep teasing me, it's just very... um... you know..."
Soren observed her expression, keenly sensing a hint of shyness, and understood instantly.
Everyone had only known each other for three days; what could they tease her about?
Eight or nine, no, ten out of ten, they were teasing the gossip about him and Hermione. The two of them were indeed quite eye-catching among the freshmen.
He didn't expect that such a thing could shake Hermione's principles.
But this was also good; with the need to borrow homework, at least the girls wouldn't exclude Hermionetoo much.
Sure enough, she next indicated that she got along okay with the female classmates; instead, it was those boys who made her very angry.
Because they neither followed the rules nor studied hard, and when she kindly guided them, they were always impatient and even lost their temper at her.
Soren wanted to laugh, knowing that this was the natural conflict between a straight-A student and poor students.
But the current situation was okay, and he didn't need to intervene yet.
After chatting for a while, Hermione said goodbye to him and went to her morning class.
Soren was also ready to set off; before moving, his gaze swept over the teacher's table.
—He didn't see Snape.
For two consecutive days, the Potions professor hadn't appeared during breakfast, and he didn't know if he didn't eat breakfast or had the House-elf deliver breakfast to his office.
The scene yesterday where he hung Blaise upside down to spit bubbles was actually a tribute to Snape's personal experience when he was in school, and he didn't know if it touched him.
Sigh, in order to help the Potions professor recall the emotions of his student days, he really exhausted his heart...
In his daydreaming, Soren's feet turned on automatic pathfinding mode, and with familiar ease, they brought him to the door of the Library.
However,
The Library door was closed.
Lazy Madam Pince, she always started work at nine o'clock sharp...