Wentworth’s gaze shifted from the enchanting scene of celebration and camaraderie to the imposing figure standing before him—Professor Snape.
The air grew tense as Professor Snape’s gloomy expression bore down on him.
A sea of furious faces from Slytherin Academy students loomed behind Snape, their eyes fixed on Wentworth.
Amid the collective anger, Wentworth even spotted someone slowly drawing a wand.
At that moment, regret gnawed at Wentworth’s gut.
He wished he hadn’t whispered those words to Cassandra during the duel, fearing the attention it might attract.
However, fate had played an unexpected hand as Cassandra collapsed.
Was it due to his words? Wentworth couldn’t be sure.
Summoning his courage, Wentworth spoke up, awkwardness tainting his voice, “Professor Snape, I am your student too.”
Fortunately, the presence of other Professors, including Professor Dumbledore, diffused the situation, and Wentworth was allowed to retreat to the safety of the Hufflepuff students.
On the way back to the Hufflepuff common room, questions about his interaction with Cassandra echoed around him amidst the joyful atmosphere.
“Wentworth, what did you say to her to make her pass out?”
Wentworth tried to explain, “It’s nothing! Professor Ilona and Professor Flitwick said Cassandra fainted because her magic power was exhausted. What does it have to do with me?”
“Then why did she faint right after you whispered something to her?”
“I think you want me to be punished for something not of my doings?” Wentworth replied.
Yet, his friends remained unconvinced, suspecting his words may have played a role in Cassandra’s sudden fainting spell.
Light-hearted banter and laughter filled the common room as the Hufflepuffs chatted and speculated.
In the following years, the question of what Wentworth had said to Cassandra became a mystery that countless wizards yearned to solve.
Nevertheless, one fact remained certain—Cassandra’s loyalty to Wentworth remained unwavering, earning her the title of the “Dark Queen of The Night” by the European and American Ministry of Magic during Alliance’s resurgence.
As Wentworth, Cedric, and the others entered the Hufflepuff common room, they were greeted by an unexpected sight.
The room had undergone a transformation, adorned with myriad snacks and desserts strewn across every corner.
“Did we lose our way because we’ve been too happy? We ended up in the kitchen instead.”
Astonished, Prefect Green, the Hufflepuff prefect, stared at the scene before him.
This was a first, even after five years at Hogwarts.
The unexpected treat sparked excitement among the Hufflepuffs, who eagerly indulged in the delectable offerings.
Professor Sprout, the Head of Hufflepuff, made her entrance, clapping her hands with a gleam in her eye.
“Children, what are you doing standing there? This is a memorable night, and we need to celebrate it!”
The enthusiastic Hufflepuffs erupted into cheers, swarming over the desserts with gusto.
Amidst the celebration, Wentworth noticed Prefect Green holding a handful of sweets, his mouth full, asking Professor Sprout between bites, “Dean, when did you prepare these things?”
With a smile, Professor Sprout revealed, “The moment you stepped onto the duel, Prefect Green, I understood your plan. I knew that victory belonged to Hufflepuff, so I quietly instructed the house elves to prepare these desserts!”
Prefect Green seized the opportunity for praise, jesting, “President, am I handsome?”
Professor Sprout chuckled, “Of course, you’re all handsome! Especially our little Wentworth! It’s really fortunate you came to Hufflepuff instead of Ravenclaw!”
Cedric couldn’t help but voice his curiosity, “Professor Sprout, what if, I mean if, we had lost?”
Unperturbed, Professor Sprout responded, “I think, then you all would have needed a dessert party!”
Laughter and merriment filled the common room as the celebration continued.
However, the atmosphere shifted when an unexpected guest arrived—Professor Snape, the Head of Slytherin.
Despite the festive mood, Professor Snape’s entrance cast a shadow.
He approached Professor Sprout, seeking assistance for Cassandra, who needed rest and potions to recover her strength.
As Professor Snape and Professor Sprout departed, Prefect Greene remarked with a blank expression while munching on treats.
“Perhaps, Professor Sprout, who has served as the Head of Hufflepuff for half her life, is even happier with this victory than us.”
With his hand on Wentworth’s shoulder, Prefect Greene spoke earnestly, “Wentworth, if possible, lead us to win the House Cup, an honor that Hufflepuff has not received for many years!”
Cedric attempted to lighten the mood, jesting, “Hey, Prefect Green, isn’t this your responsibility?”
Prefect Green shrugged helplessly, admitting, “I know my limit, Cedric! Besides, don’t call me Prefect. I’m Wentworth’s lap-dog now.”
Wentworth met Prefect Green’s gaze and retorted, “Can you take your claws off my shoulders and stop wiping your hands on my clothes?”
With an awkward smile, Prefect Green complied, patting Wentworth’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry about the small stuff, Wentworth. You’re destined for greatness.”
As Wentworth and Cedric exchanged a glance, they couldn’t help but roll their eyes.
The joy of the evening faded as the Hufflepuffs dispersed to their dormitories.
Left alone, Wentworth slipped out of the room, cautiously avoiding Filch the Caretaker as he made his way to a hidden spot on the eighth floor of Hogwarts Castle.
Standing before a tapestry adorned with giant monsters, Wentworth ensured he was undisturbed.
He took a deep breath, contemplating the secrets that awaited him beyond the tapestry’s facade.
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