When Wentworth walked out of the library, his fingers were still trembling slightly.
Looking around at the familiar campus, Wentworth couldn't help but feel as though this place resembled a prison—a cage he had willingly stepped into!
At this thought, Wentworth nearly slapped himself in frustration.
More importantly, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it right now! What could he do? Write to Rosier and Abernathy, asking them to rally the Pureblood Party to rescue him?
If Dumbledore bore him no ill will, such an act would be entirely unnecessary.
And if Dumbledore truly had sinister intentions toward him, doing so would be courting death!
This was Hogwarts—Dumbledore's absolute stronghold! Never mind whether Rosier and the others could even break in, but even if they did, they'd likely find only his lifeless body waiting for them!
No, he couldn't panic, nor could he afford to act rashly! Wentworth repeatedly reminded himself that the situation hadn't reached its worst yet.
Dumbledore undoubtedly knew his true identity—after all, it was clearly stated on the acceptance letter!
Yet, even after all this time at Hogwarts, his identity had remained hidden. No one had asked about his surname, and he himself had never voluntarily mentioned it. Such an anomaly could only mean one thing—Dumbledore was actively covering for him!
And since Dumbledore was willing to go to such lengths to conceal his identity, it meant, at least for now, that Dumbledore had no immediate plans to harm him.
Once Wentworth confirmed his temporary safety, he let out a long sigh of relief.
But he also knew that wasn't enough.
Being weaker didn't necessarily mean one would be attacked; it just meant that, for now, the attacker wasn't inclined to act.
If, before this morning, Wentworth had scoffed at the Pureblood Party's high-profile actions from the day before, now he found himself wishing they were even more ostentatious!
The stronger the Pureblood Party became, the safer he would be! After all, even Dumbledore would have to think twice about the havoc a group of unhinged Dark wizards could wreak upon the magical world.
Of course, that alone wouldn't suffice. As a transmigrator, Wentworth's greatest advantage was knowing the trajectory of this world's future. With that in mind, he devised a brilliant new plan.
Raise chaos to consolidate power!
Voldemort was set to return next year. Originally, Wentworth had considered preemptively destroying Voldemort's Horcruxes—his diary, the cup, and the like—by burning them all to ashes.
But now, Wentworth had changed his mind.
Voldemort's return was a good thing! As long as Voldemort re-emerged, Dumbledore wouldn't dare move against him before Voldemort's ultimate demise. After all, fighting both the Pureblood Party and the Death Eaters simultaneously would be too much, even for Dumbledore!
With this realization, Wentworth couldn't help but let a sly smile creep across his face.
Perfect. A solid move on my part, he thought smugly.
Immersed in his thoughts, Wentworth failed to notice a familiar figure passing by. The person raised a hand, seemingly about to greet him, but Wentworth, lost in his musings, walked on with a faint smile, leaving behind a surprised and puzzled figure.
Earlier that morning, Cassandra had risen early, determined to look her best. As the saying went, a girl dresses up for the one she admires—and her goal was clear: Wentworth.
When she spotted Wentworth approaching from a distance, Cassandra hurriedly adjusted her attire, even undoing another button on her Slytherin robe and tugging it down slightly.
With a smile on her face, Cassandra walked toward Wentworth.
But just as they were about to cross paths, Wentworth, who had been expressionless moments before, suddenly broke into an inexplicable smirk. This caught Cassandra off guard, and her raised hand faltered mid-air.
She even stopped herself from calling out to him, her voice dying in her throat.
As the two passed, Wentworth walked on with that same enigmatic smile, showing no sign of acknowledgment. Gone were the days when he would greet her proactively no matter where they met!
Could he have seen through everything already?
Cassandra stared at his retreating figure, disbelief written all over her face.
But soon, a wave of anger surged within her.
I went through all this effort to dress up today, and you just walk away without even a glance?! Whether or not you've figured something out, this is utterly unforgivable!
Meanwhile, Wentworth remained oblivious to Cassandra's ire.
He hadn't noticed her at all, his mind preoccupied with strategies for self-preservation.
When Wentworth finally returned to his dormitory, he found Cedric already waiting for him.
The sight made Wentworth's heart tighten. Cedric must have discovered his true identity—after all, he had taken Wentworth's pendant to the battlefield yesterday!
Even so, Wentworth strode over nonchalantly and flopped onto his bed without ceremony.
"So, I assume you know who I am now?" he asked casually.
Cedric nodded, letting out a bitter laugh.
"Up until yesterday, I never imagined that my close friend—the one I see every day—was such a prominent figure."
Wentworth thought to himself, Funny, I just found out today too.
"Are we still friends?" Wentworth asked hesitantly.
Cedric slowly shook his head.
Wentworth managed a bitter smile. Of course, with Cedric's principled nature, how could he possibly condone the Pureblood Party's actions?
Though he'd anticipated this outcome, it still stung. Cedric was, after all, the first friend he'd made upon arriving in this world.
But before Wentworth could dwell on the pain, Cedric spoke again.
"I've already joined the Pureblood Party. According to your—our—Pureblood Party customs, we're family now!"
Hearing this, Wentworth shot up from his bed, eyes wide with joy.
"Are you serious?!"
Cedric, however, kept a straight face and said, "Just because I've joined doesn't mean it's good news for you. Don't think for a second that I'll turn a blind eye if you go too far!"
Wentworth only grinned mischievously.
"We'll deal with that later. For now, call me Master!"
Cedric: ...
"Clang!"
Suddenly, the sound of something falling interrupted them. Startled, they turned to see Kirk staring at them wide-eyed, his wand slipping from his grasp onto the floor.
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