Just as Cassandra finished speaking, Harry roared:
"Then he's an accomplice too!"
Seeing Harry growing increasingly agitated, Draco stepped forward and gently patted his shoulder in reassurance before turning to Wentworth and Cassandra to explain:
"Because Professor Snape was once a Death Eater."
Hearing this, Cassandra finally understood, while Wentworth thought to himself:
In truth, saying that Snape was responsible for Harry's parents' deaths isn't entirely wrong. After all, if Snape hadn't relayed the prophecy to Voldemort, perhaps Harry's parents wouldn't have died.
But that was something Wentworth would never say to Harry.
As Harry's emotions gradually calmed, Wentworth finally spoke:
"Harry, no matter what, I won't help you steal from Snape's office. Your parents didn't die at his hands. If you truly want revenge, your target should be Voldemort—Tom Riddle—not our Potions professor."
With that, Wentworth took Cassandra's hand and walked away.
Of course, Wentworth had no intention of offending Snape just to help Harry. Not to mention that Snape wasn't truly a loyal Death Eater to begin with, but more importantly, his own professor, Lupin, depended on Snape's Wolfsbane Potion. For that reason alone, Wentworth wouldn't side with Harry.
Besides, in a sense, Harry was the "Chosen One" of this world, its main protagonist. But Wentworth had no desire to attach himself to that title. After all, everyone is the protagonist of their own life!
Although Wentworth walked away without hesitation, Cassandra kept glancing back at Harry and his friends, her gaze flickering with unreadable thoughts.
After Wentworth left, Harry crouched down in frustration, prompting Draco, Ron, and Hermione to gather around and console him.
But none of them noticed that, from a window high in Hogwarts Castle, Quirrell stood silently, observing the scene below.
Meanwhile, in his private office, Quirrell spoke with deep reverence, as if murmuring to himself:
"Yes, Master! I understand! I will do exactly as you command. This plan... is flawless!"
As Wentworth led Cassandra into Hogwarts Castle, she suddenly asked:
"How long do you plan to keep holding my hand?"
Hearing Cassandra's question, Wentworth sheepishly responded:
"Oh! Haha, I didn't even notice... how careless of me!"
Saying this, he reluctantly let go of her hand.
Cassandra rolled her eyes at him in exasperation and strode off toward the Slytherin common room.
As they brushed past each other, she suddenly whispered:
"Was it smooth?"
Wentworth: "b(¯□¯)d"
Watching her leave, Wentworth slowly retracted his grin, wiped away non-existent drool from the corner of his mouth, and took out the shipment list Cassandra had given him, his gaze deep in thought.
In the following days, Hogwarts remained calm on the surface, but tension steadily rose as exams approached.
Even so-called academic prodigies like Wentworth and Cedric immersed themselves in intense revision. After all, some subjects at Hogwarts couldn't be mastered by talent alone.
For example: History of Magic.
That day, as usual, Wentworth headed to the Hogwarts library after classes. Scanning the room, he noticed Cedric and Kirk hadn't arrived yet.
Unbothered, he set his books down and went to the shelves in search of reference materials.
However, when he returned with a book in hand, he found a slip of parchment lying on his desk.
Frowning, Wentworth glanced around but saw no suspicious figures, which only made him more wary.
Not seeing anything suspicious was, in fact, the most suspicious thing of all!
After all, from the moment he left to when he returned, only a few minutes had passed, yet the note had appeared out of nowhere. This meant someone had been watching him closely, and he hadn't noticed at all.
Realizing this, Wentworth instinctively drew his wand.
"Finite Incantatem!"
The parchment remained unchanged.
Ignoring the curious glances from students around him, Wentworth picked up the note.
He had only read a few words before rage surged through him.
The note read:
Cassandra is in my hands. If you want to save her, bring Harry Potter to me. Midnight. Forbidden Forest.
Wentworth didn't need to think twice to know who had left it.
At this point in time, within Hogwarts, there was only one person capable of such a thing: Quirrell.
And the one who had instructed him? Without a doubt, the inhuman wretch lurking behind his head.
Just then, Wentworth sensed someone approaching from behind. Instinctively, he spun around and pointed his wand.
"Whoa, Wentworth! Easy! Just a joke!" Kirk stood there with his hands raised, looking embarrassed.
Cedric, standing nearby, chuckled and said, "I warned you, Kirk. One day, Wentworth's spells will hit you, and I won't be the one saving you. I'll always side with Wentworth!"
But soon, the two of them noticed something unusual.
Wentworth wasn't smiling. In fact, he was alarmingly calm.
Kirk's heart skipped a beat as he asked hesitantly:
"Are you actually mad?"
Wentworth took a deep breath, suppressing his anger, then silently handed the note to Kirk and Cedric.
Kirk immediately took the note while Cedric leaned in to read it as well.
It was short, and they finished in seconds, their expressions shifting to shock.
Cedric quickly asked, "When did you receive this?"
Wentworth replied coldly, "Five minutes ago."
At that moment, Kirk grabbed a passing student, clearly someone he recognized, and asked:
"Jace, what class did second-year Slytherins have this afternoon?"
Though puzzled, Jace answered promptly:
"Defense Against the Dark Arts, Prefect Kirk."
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