Harry Potter: From Young Wizard to White Devil

"...I've memorized the class schedule, Vaughn. Gryffindor and Slytherin have many classes together. I don't think the sorting will affect anything."

"The first class today is Transfiguration. Are you ready? If not, I can lend you my notes—or we could sit together in class?"

Breakfast had already been served on the four House tables in the Great Hall. It was quite a spread.

Among all British meals, breakfast was the only one that didn't bore Vaughn. Besides the usual sausages and bacon, there were scrambled eggs and a set of condiments, including ketchup.

Even the staple breads came in a variety of styles.

Vaughn, wearing his Slytherin snake crest proudly, sat at the Gryffindor table without hesitation, calmly listening to Hermione's chattering as he ate slowly.

Every Gryffindor who passed by would first glance at him suspiciously. Then, confirming they hadn't mistakenly wandered to the wrong table in a sleepy haze, they hurried past with awkward expressions.

The Slytherin students seated nearby kept glancing back.

After a single night, nearly everyone in Slytherin had heard that Vaughn knocked a prefect unconscious with two spells.

Rumor had it that the spell used was so powerful that even classmates couldn't break it, and the prefect had to be rushed to Madam Pomfrey overnight.

Now, everyone was re-evaluating this red-haired Weasley.

This was probably the only upside to Slytherin culture—they valued strength. Pure-blood education or not, strength and power were one and the same.

Those who were strong earned attention.

But... why was that guy sitting at the Gryffindor table? Was this rebellious nature in the Weasley blood? It felt unsettling.

Many little snakes who wanted to approach Vaughn didn't dare confront him, so instead, they turned their attention to Gryffindor students, staring them down.

Gryffindors, equally confused, didn't want to drive Vaughn off, partly out of respect for Percy, Fred, and George. So instead, they glared back at the Slytherins.

A perfectly ordinary breakfast now carried an odd tension between the two Houses.

Naturally, this caught the attention of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. But Ravenclaws were known for minding their own business, and Hufflepuffs were too kind and reserved to meddle.

No one fanned the flames. That was until Fred and George stormed in.

"Look, George! The venomous snake of the Weasley family is actually sitting at the Gryffindor table!"

"Yes, Fred, you're not seeing things—it's awful! He betrayed us, and now he has the audacity to show his face!"

They stood to Vaughn's left and right, arms folded, glaring exaggeratedly to show just how angry and disappointed they were.

Vaughn broke off a piece of bread, took a sip of mushroom soup, and said slowly: "Are you sure you want to start that with me?"

"Hmm—because I recall two certain people trying to butter me up all summer. I was planning to include 10 Galleons in their Halloween gift packages, just to support their little business venture..."

He turned and looked at his brothers with sincere eyes. "But now it seems they don't want it."

The twins instinctively lowered their arms and exchanged looks.

"What do we do, Fred?"

"...maybe we forgive him this time?"

"Would that make us look spineless?"

"10 Galleons..."

"Percy said yesterday that no Weasley has ever been in Slytherin. That someone should be taught a lesson..."

They stared at each other for a moment, then suddenly burst out laughing.

"Who cares what Percy says!"

"We're definitely not doing this for the Galleons, but how could we reject our brother's sincere support for our business? Right, Fred?"

"Right, George. So what if it's Slytherin? Aren't they still Hogwarts students? Isn't he still our brother?"

"Ahem, yeah, there may be more jerks in Slytherin—but our brother doesn't count."

"Exactly, George!"

Vaughn smiled, no longer teasing. He asked seriously, "Are 10 Galleons enough?"

The twins nodded enthusiastically.

"More than enough."

"It's vital, Vaughn!"

In high spirits, they grabbed a few slices of bread and hurried off, whispering about product ideas.

After they were long gone, one muttered softly, "There's never been a Slytherin Weasley..."

"What can we do? He's our little brother, George."

"Yeah..."

...

"The twins are settled." Vaughn had remained calm throughout, but inside, he was quietly relieved. Everything had unfolded as expected.

Among all the Weasleys, Fred and George were the most mischievous—but because they were closest in age, they were also the most protective.

Last night, Vaughn had written to Molly and Arthur, explaining his reason for entering Slytherin—not mentioning brain occlusion, but saying he had consulted the Sorting Hat and wished to study potions under Professor Snape.

Since it was a matter of academics and involved Snape, Mum and Dad shouldn't take it badly...

"Sigh, if I'd been this clear-headed in handling people back in my past life, I wouldn't have ended up just another office drone!" Vaughn sighed.

Then he heard Hermione hesitantly whisper beside him, "Actually... I don't think going into Slytherin means anything."

Vaughn looked at her. Her cheeks were flushed, but she spoke with determination:

"I've read Hogwarts: A History, A History of Magic, and Modern Magical History. No magical historian has ever claimed that Slytherin only produces bad people. I don't believe Sorting defines good or evil. In fact, Modern Magical History says one of the most infamous Death Eaters came from Gryffindor."

Whether it was explanation or comfort, Vaughn wasn't sure. He smiled and ruffled her hair. "Thanks, Hermione."

He didn't need comforting—but it was nice to know a thoughtful girl cared about him, wasn't it?

That good feeling stayed with him through the end of breakfast, and he headed to Transfiguration class with Hermione.

It was the first class of their Hogwarts life. When they arrived, only a few students were in the room—Malfoy and Neville, who were currently being mocked by him.

There was also a tabby cat squatting on the podium.

Seeing Vaughn, Malfoy, and his gang instinctively shrank into a corner. Neville, grateful for the distraction, didn't care about Vaughn being in Slytherin at all.

With tears in his eyes, he said, "Thank you, Vaughn! Only you can scare Malfoy. I heard you beat him up. You're amazing!"

The tabby cat on the podium twitched its whiskers—and suddenly wore a very stern expression.

Vaughn's good mood vanished instantly. Thank you, Neville. It would've been better if you'd just shut up...

---

For advanced chapters(more than 30) and other novels, check out my P@treon page: [email protected]/Arvinstorm

Your support means the world—thank you!