Sitting at the long Slytherin table in the Great Hall, Sean sighed, a dull throb beginning in his temples. He watched as his fellow Slytherins either offered him a slight, respectful nod, smiled and greeted him directly, or, at worst, simply acted as if he didn't exist.
Why were they all being so… civil?
What had happened to the anticipated animosity, the plots to stand up for Malfoy?
Where was the inherent dislike for him, the "Squib's son," the constant scheming to cause him trouble?
Why had they all suddenly become so… friendly?
If this was the new norm, then who was he supposed to duel?
He couldn't possibly challenge someone who was smiling at him!
In that case, the only justifiable reason for a challenge, besides perhaps their offensively ugly smiles, would be… well, nothing at all.
Speaking of ugly smiles, Sean's gaze inadvertently drifted towards Marcus Flint, the sixth-year Slytherin Quidditch captain. Sean quickly turned his head away, a helpless sigh escaping him. If Flint was a rather intimidating, cold-faced villain when he wasn't smiling, then when he did attempt a smile, with his remarkably uneven buck teeth and eyes that squinted into near invisibility, few people could produce a more genuinely unsightly grin.
Sean sighed again, a wave of understanding washing over him.
Strength and family background.
His demonstrated strength in dueling had earned him a measure of respect. And the perceived backing of his powerful family, however nominal, had made others inclined to offer him smiles, however insincere.
In truth, when he had first challenged Malfoy, Sean had already considered the potential consequences. He had mentally prepared for the possibility that most of Slytherin would target him in the future. At that time, Sean's contingency plan had been to find a private room for himself within the Room of Requirement, to effectively become independent of Slytherin House, attend classes as usual, and simply find opportunities to duel anyone he particularly disliked.
As it turned out, Sean's elaborate plan was entirely unnecessary. All the potential problems and repercussions stemming from his duel with Malfoy had been completely and effectively neutralized by his "cheap" Grandfather's personal intervention.
My "cheap" Grandfather went to such considerable lengths, Sean mused. He's clearly not just using me as a whetstone to sharpen Millicent. What exactly does he want from me, being so attentive to a grandson he has only just gotten to know?
He wouldn't be interested in me as a person, would he? For… other reasons?
No way! That's impossible!
Sean quickly dismissed such outlandish thoughts. He decided not to spend all his time speculating about his "cheap" Grandfather's potential schemes and machinations.
At this stage, regardless of what his Grandfather truly thought of him or what his ultimate intentions might be, the actions he had taken so far had been genuinely beneficial to Sean. Sean decided to simply play dumb, accept the advantages offered, and deal with any other, more complicated ideas his Grandfather might have later, as they arose. At worst, he mused, he could always just slip away to Hong Kong and pursue his nebulous "entertainment career." After all, his Grandfather certainly couldn't control him there.
As he spooned the last bit of oatmeal into his mouth, a sudden burst of boisterous laughter erupted from the Gryffindor table opposite. Looking up, Sean saw that the Weasley twins had, once again, successfully executed a prank on some unsuspecting victim. Their antics had triggered loud, unrestrained laughter from the Gryffindor table, and even a few chuckles from the more reserved Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.
Among the Slytherins, Goyle also started to chuckle but was quickly silenced by a sharp elbow to the ribs from Malfoy. For Slytherins, laughing loudly and openly in public was already considered rather embarrassing. To be seen laughing in response to Gryffindor's boisterous amusement was, in their view, even more humiliating.
Most of the Slytherins seemed genuinely annoyed by the sudden outburst of laughter; they generally preferred a quieter, more dignified dining environment. If not for the established Hogwarts school rules mandating communal meals, they absolutely wouldn't choose to dine in such a raucous atmosphere.
Unlike most of his housemates, Sean didn't have particularly strong feelings about the laughter. Looking at the other three house tables, which seemed much livelier and more animated than usual, Sean suddenly realized that tomorrow was Halloween. This, he surmised, was probably the reason for the heightened spirits and general exuberance displayed by the students from the other three houses. After all, for underage students, festivals and holidays were, in themselves, inherently enticing and exciting.
Halloween?
Sean sat at the long table, a flicker of nostalgia passing through him. He suddenly remembered that back in his old home, whenever Halloween came around, his father would always take time off from his work at the gym and the dojo to meticulously decorate their house for the occasion. It was a shame, he thought with a pang of wistfulness, that he wouldn't be able to witness that familiar, comforting scene this year.
Wait…
Sean frowned slightly, a vague, unsettling memory stirring in the back of his mind.
He vaguely recalled that something significant, something that disturbed the peace and tranquility of Hogwarts, seemed to happen around Halloween in the original stories. He particularly remembered Harry and the others encountering some sort of serious problem. Although they had ultimately emerged safe, it was certainly something worth noting.
However, Sean had been in this world for so long now that his memory of the specific plot details had become somewhat fragmented. He retained a general understanding of the key events, but many of the finer details and subplots had become blurry, making it impossible for him to recall them with complete clarity at a moment's notice.
Never mind, he thought, dismissing the fleeting concern. I'll see what happens when the time comes. Anyway, they were safe in the end, and it really has nothing to do with me.
Thinking this, Sean no longer pondered the matter and picked up another piece of bread, pairing it with a strip of bacon.
Just then, Blaise arrived, fashionably late as usual. Seeing his friend's tired, somewhat haggard face, Sean's expression turned slightly strange.
"You," Sean began, his voice laced with amusement, "did you go carousing last night?"
"How can you possibly call it carousing?" Blaise retorted, his tone one of mock indignation. "How can you falsely accuse me of such uncouth behavior? What, pray tell, is carousing? I was engaged in a proper, consensual relationship! Can intimate contact within the bounds of a relationship possibly be referred to as carousing?"
"Oh…" Sean said, his expression perfectly normal, "So, I wasn't entirely wrong then, was I?"
"Pretty much," Blaise admitted with a weary grin.
Sean was already quite accustomed to Blaise's rather chaotic and often complicated private life. And in this particular regard, Blaise did indeed possess a certain degree of shamelessness.
"Alright, hurry up and eat," Sean said. "It's Transfiguration class soon, and Professor McGonagall won't give Slytherin any special treatment. If you dare to fall asleep in her class, Professor McGonagall will definitely deduct points heavily from you. After all," he added with a wry smile, "Gryffindor's house points have been dropping rather sharply recently, so I'm quite sure Professor McGonagall will be more than willing to deduct some points from Slytherin, within the allowed rules, of course."
While stuffing food into his mouth with surprising speed, Blaise chuckled. "Isn't this all thanks to you, Sean? It's only been less than three months since school started, and the points you lost at the beginning are almost entirely earned back. If you keep up this good work after this, I think, with the astonishing speed at which Gryffindor's 'Savior' loses points, our Slytherin's seven consecutive House Cup championships are definitely secured."
Hearing this, Sean looked at Blaise with a strange, almost pitying expression. He vaguely remembered that Slytherin's long streak of House Cup championships was actually supposed to be broken by Gryffindor during this very semester. After all, with Dumbledore here, consistently awarding Harry substantial point bonuses – often fifty or even a hundred points at a time – even two exceptionally diligent Slytherins might not be able to withstand such a blatant display of favoritism.
Coupled with Harry's undeniable talent in Quidditch, which was also a significant source of house points, Sean knew that when it came to gaining points through conventional means, even three or five of himself combined couldn't possibly hope to outpace Harry.
What Sean could do now, he resolved, was to focus on making up all of his own lost points. If conditions allowed, and opportunities arose, he might even try to earn a few more. This way, even if Slytherin ultimately didn't win the House Cup this year, no one could reasonably blame him for the loss. And that, for now, was enough.
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