Hogwarts: Third Dark Lord

Wentworth glanced toward the Slytherin table and saw Cassandra sitting emotionless, sipping her pumpkin juice in small, deliberate gulps. Her eyes, however, were red and swollen—evidence of a restless night.

The Slytherins who normally surrounded Cassandra had dispersed. Some were engrossed in copies of the Daily Prophet, while others formed tight clusters, whispering and pointing in her direction. Yet, despite the changes around her, Cassandra showed no reaction.

Sighing inwardly, Wentworth turned his attention to the Daily Prophet in his hands. The headline detailed the disappearance of Thomas Vole, the head of the Auror Office at the British Ministry of Magic. The report stated that early the previous morning, Vole had embarked on a mission with two Aurors to pursue a group of wizards illegally crossing into Britain. None of them had returned.

Later, in a remote valley, search teams discovered the bodies of the two Aurors, alongside traces of a fierce battle involving Dark Magic. The remnants included Vole's broken wand and torn robes, leading the Ministry to conclude that Vole had fallen into an ambush while pursuing the suspects.

The Ministry had deemed Thomas Vole "presumed dead in the line of duty" and appointed Rufus Scrimgeour as the acting head of the Auror Office.

Reading this, everything clicked into place for Wentworth. It was clear that the reason Dumbledore had summoned Cassandra during class the previous day was this very news—Dumbledore must have learned about it in advance.

For the first time, Wentworth truly felt that the wizarding world might not be as wonderful as he once imagined. Rosier's words echoed in his mind, a grim reminder of the harsh reality.

Even in this relatively calm period before the storm, the disappearance of such a high-ranking Auror was unsettling. If a wizard of Vole's caliber could meet such a grim fate, what hope was there for the average witch or wizard?

And in less than a year, Voldemort would return. By then, the wizarding world would face challenges far graver than anything they faced now.

The urgency to grow stronger weighed heavily on Wentworth's mind. He wasn't aspiring to be a savior, but survival was non-negotiable.

His musings were interrupted by a commotion at the Slytherin table. Turning to look, he saw a small group gathered around Cassandra, led by Waylin, the recently demoted Slytherin prefect.

"What's happening over there with the Slytherins?" Wentworth asked curiously.

Kirk snorted and replied, "Apparently, Waylin is blaming Cassandra for him losing his prefect badge. She allegedly called him a disgrace to Slytherin for being too dim-witted."

Wentworth nodded, listening closely as Waylin's voice grew louder.

"Cassandra!" he fumed. "If it weren't for you egging me on, I wouldn't have gone after those Hufflepuff first-years! And if I hadn't done that, Snape wouldn't have stripped me of my prefect position!"

Cassandra didn't lift her head, calmly sipping her pumpkin juice. But a Slytherin first-year, evidently unwilling to tolerate Waylin's tirade, stepped forward and said, "Prefect Waylin, this isn't Cassandra's fault. If anything, she handled things well. Without her, Slytherin would've been even more humiliated!"

Waylin, furious that a mere first-year dared to talk back, shoved the younger student. The boy staggered but was caught by someone behind him.

At last, Cassandra set down her pumpkin juice. She raised her head, her gaze icy with disdain. "How is it that Slytherin has students like you? You're like a dog that's lost its bone—absolutely pathetic."

Waylin's face turned beet red with anger. He raised his hand as if to strike Cassandra, but she didn't flinch. Her piercing stare froze him mid-motion.

Then, Waylin grabbed the bowl of pumpkin juice in front of Cassandra and hurled its contents across the table. The juice splattered her Slytherin robes and dripped onto her hair and face. Gasps echoed through the Great Hall as everyone turned to see the spectacle.

Wentworth, unable to remain seated any longer, started to rise, but both Kirk and Cedric held him back.

Kirk smirked. "Oh, so you're saying there's nothing between you and Cassandra? Then why can't you sit still when she's being bullied? Leave this to me."

Cedric, on the other hand, cautioned, "You're still under Snape's probation. It's best not to provoke the Slytherins right now."

Kirk stood and shouted across the Hall, "Wow, so this is Slytherin's idea of class, huh? Flipping tables on your own housemates? Truly inspiring, Prefect Waylin—oh wait, I forgot, you're not a prefect anymore, are you?"

Waylin, now trembling with rage, whipped out his wand and pointed it at Kirk. Kirk hesitated, fumbling to draw his own wand, but Waylin was faster.

"Silencio—"

Before Weilin could finish the incantation, a voice rang out, "Expelliarmus!"

Waylin's wand flew out of his hand and clattered to the floor. All eyes turned, expecting to see Wentworth as the caster, but it was Cedric who stood with his wand raised.

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