Norris had complicated feelings.
Among the few students informed of the true purpose behind the inter-school exchange, he had been lucky enough to secure a spot on the participant list, thanks largely to his family's influence.
He was a seventh-year Slytherin. Unfortunately, he wasn't a prefect, nor was he the Quidditch team captain.
Though his grades were among the top, the selection of prefects wasn't based solely on academic performance, it depended largely on Dumbledore's personal evaluation of each student.
As a pure-blood wizard, Norris naturally looked down on working as a shop assistant after graduation or making cheap magical items in some workshop.
His goal had always been clear: join the Ministry of Magic.
And when it came to the Ministry, holding the title of prefect made all the difference for a new recruit. Former prefects, at the very least, were allowed to shadow high-ranking Ministry officials. Those with nothing but excellent grades? They wouldn't even get the chance to run errands for someone important.
But now, prior to this event, the Minister himself had personally promised him: if Slytherin's group could retrieve something satisfactory, Norris would be recruited directly into the Ministry, no entrance exams required. In fact, his family's shops would even receive favorable treatment from the Ministry.
Even knowing full well that completing this task would turn him into a laughingstock among the other students, possibly even among those very pure-blood families who stood to benefit the most, he had still resolutely accepted the mission.
After all, for a second-tier pure-blood like himself, opportunities weren't as rare as they were for truly declining bloodlines, but when they came, you had to be ready to fight tooth and nail for them.
As for those ancient, noble, and wealthy families? Please, they didn't need to dirty their own hands. They had people like him to act as gloves and blades. Nelly Fudge would rush to hand over any intelligence he gathered like a good little servant.
To make sure everything went according to plan, Norris had stirred up enthusiasm among the students attending the event as soon as he arrived, leaking key details about the true nature of the exchange.
Thanks to his persuasion, the Slytherins formed an alliance. Their objective was to obtain as many keys as possible, those mysterious copies handed to each participating wizard.
Which meant their competition wasn't just the Ilvermorny students, they had to compete with their own classmates from Hogwarts as well.
Originally, the plan was for Hogwarts and the Ministry to share the data retrieved during the event. But what about items that couldn't be duplicated?
This was the wizarding world, after all, not everything could be copied with a simple spell. Some materials contained encrypted runes hidden in ornamental designs, or books that only revealed their contents through spoken recitation, or texts where the first paragraph kept relocating itself, requiring you to track it down and rub it with garlic just to read it.
If it took Hogwarts eighty years to decode such things, were they really supposed to wait around for a copy?
So, Minister Fudge "generously" declared that Hogwarts' limited budget shouldn't be wasted translating those tricky texts. Once the Ministry deciphered everything, they'd generously share the information.
Of course, all of these items were to be delivered straight to the Ministry, not handed over to the Hogwarts professors.
Norris and his allies had even devised a detailed strategy to seize the keys. According to the rules established between the schools, keys were to be awarded to the most outstanding students.
The best way to determine someone's excellence? Highlight how much better they were than everyone else. Their plan not only included helping certain "chosen" students excel in classes, solving tough questions with groupthink, but also undermining their competition through sabotage… even if that meant sending someone to the infirmary.
Unfortunately, while their plan was airtight in theory, it hit a massive snag.
Ilvermorny quit.
That's right, just as the Slytherins were getting into gear, Ilvermorny announced they would no longer participate. According to the Ministry's update, Ilvermorny had already made significant concessions, surrendering nine out of the fifteen keys.
The issue? Control of those keys was now in Professor McGonagall's hands.
Despite pressure from the Ministry, Slytherin received only five of the keys. A decent number, but far short of what their group needed.
Their plan required at least seven keys to proceed. Had everything gone as expected, seven would've been a given.
Norris could still clearly remember what the Ministry contact had told him during their last meeting:
"Minister Fudge will be disappointed. Do try to perform better this time, won't you? Don't let him down."
There was no threat in the man's tone, no harsh words, but Norris understood exactly what failure would mean.
And so, he couldn't help but feel a deep hatred for the person responsible for this colossal failure.
But when the image of that person surfaced in his mind, his hatred was quietly replaced by a chill that seeped into his bones.
That filthy Mudblood.
He shuddered again and subconsciously gave that second-year student a new title in his mind.
Because when he had arrived at the scene, that kid was smiling.
Unlike other students scrambling to read meaningless books, Norris had stuck to his plan. He didn't join in the pointless studying but instead went to class alongside his fellow conspirators, despite the cold stares from the professors.
Because of that, he had arrived at the scene slightly earlier than the teachers, and became the only Hogwarts student to witness what happened firsthand.
Before the professors could intervene, that little Hufflepuff boy stood there, half his face smeared with blood, pale but wearing the satisfied smile of a victor.
At his feet lay several snapped and scattered wands. And their owners? They were slumped peacefully in the corner, clearly unconscious, likely hit by a stunning spell or something similar.
If that had been all, maybe the incident could've been swept under the rug.
But Norris's sharp eyes had spotted something else, something alarming.
Under that boy's foot was someone Norris knew all too well.
A man with a thick accent, sharp eyes, and a rude tongue, he always favored his own students.
Why did Norris recognize him so well?
Because he had just taken that man's class recently.
That man was Ilvermorny's Transfiguration professor.
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