After expressing his gratitude to Professor Snape, Wentworth approached the stack of old books, carefully searching through them. Before long, his eyes lit up as he picked up a worn textbook and walked over to Snape.
"Professor Snape, I'll take this one," Wentworth said.
Without looking up, Snape replied, "I hope you won't destroy this book as well. Remember to see me after dinner."
Wentworth quickly agreed, then dashed out of the Potions classroom.
Once outside, he noticed that the Slytherin first-years were already gone, while the Hufflepuff first-years remained waiting by the door.
As soon as Wentworth appeared, the Hufflepuffs crowded around him, asking questions all at once. Wentworth waved his hands dismissively and said, "Oh, it's nothing. I just had some questions about Potions, so I stayed behind to ask Professor Snape."
The moment he finished speaking, the worried expressions on the Hufflepuffs' faces melted away, replaced by admiration. One student even gave him a silent thumbs-up, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Wentworth, I respect your bravery!"
Just then, Snape's voice rang out from behind them. "If you're not planning to leave, you can all come back inside!"
The Hufflepuffs scattered in panic.
Wentworth turned back and bowed to Snape before walking away. Falling in step with the other first-years, he quietly opened the old textbook he had borrowed from the classroom.
On the inside cover, a name was scrawled: The Half-Blood Prince.
Confirming he hadn't made a mistake, Wentworth's lips curled into a confident smile.
Suddenly, someone smacked him hard on the back, startling him into quickly shutting the book. Turning around, he saw it was Cedric.
"Hey, how was Potions? Snape didn't give you too hard a time, did he?"
Seeing Cedric, Wentworth relaxed and shrugged. "Of course he did. Docked five points from me!"
Cedric waved it off nonchalantly. "That's nothing. I thought he'd take at least thirty points. Five? Standard practice—no one's going to blame you! What did he say to justify docking the points?"
Wentworth let out a bitter laugh. "He accused me of making eyes at Cassandra during class. Utter nonsense!"
Cedric stared at him in mock disbelief. After a moment, he burst into uncontrollable laughter.
The more Cedric laughed, the harder it became for him to stop, until Wentworth's face darkened. Only then did Cedric try to suppress his laughter, still grinning as he asked, "Seriously, though. Is there something going on between you and Cassandra? I thought you two seemed close back on the Hogwarts Express."
Wentworth hurriedly denied it. "Impossible! I like tall girls with—erm—strong features!"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than an angry voice sounded behind them. "Wentworth, you scoundrel!"
Startled, the two turned to see Cassandra, her face flushed with anger. Wentworth was at a loss for words. He was just about to explain when Cassandra cut him off.
"You just wait!" she snapped before storming past them and disappearing down the corridor.
Watching her leave, Wentworth and Cedric exchanged awkward glances. After a long silence, Wentworth finally said, "You know, she has potential. There's an old saying in the East: 'Girls grow into their beauty over time.'"
Cedric sighed. "Do you really think that's why she's mad?"
"Trust me, it is!" Wentworth replied confidently.
The two laughed it off and headed to the Great Hall for dinner.
When Wentworth and Cedric arrived at the Hufflepuff table, many greeted Wentworth warmly, leaving him somewhat overwhelmed.
After sitting down, Wentworth found himself surrounded by students asking if he was planning another hot pot party anytime soon. It wasn't until Wentworth promised repeatedly to let them know ahead of time that they finally dispersed.
Meanwhile, Cassandra sat at the Slytherin table, glaring at Wentworth as he basked in the attention.
"Cassandra, you don't look too happy. What happened?"
Slytherin prefect Waylin approached her with a concerned expression.
Since the start of term, Waylin had made multiple attempts to speak with Cassandra. The other Slytherins, noticing this, often stepped aside to give them space.
At the sound of his voice, Cassandra instinctively frowned. She didn't think much of Waylin—his father worked for hers, and he always seemed eager to curry favor with her.
While Cassandra understood his motives, she found his obsequiousness distasteful. He was a prefect, after all—a Slytherin prefect! Where was his pride? His dignity?
Whenever Cassandra thought of this, she couldn't help but compare him to Wentworth. His ever-present, elegant smile, his blend of curiosity about the wizarding world and aloof detachment—he was nothing like Waylin. Despite his mixed heritage and Muggle upbringing, Wentworth carried himself with the grace of a pureblood wizard.
Don't ask how Cassandra knew about Wentworth's background. Before she even set foot at Hogwarts, her father had provided her with a list of notable first-years to keep an eye on.
But now, Cassandra's frustration gave way to cunning. She suppressed her frown, replacing it with an expression of righteous indignation.
"Prefect Waylin," she said, feigning anger, "someone disrespected Slytherin today!"
Waylin's face darkened immediately. "What? Who would dare insult Slytherin?"
Cassandra recounted the events outside the Potions classroom, embellishing them as she went.
In her version, the Hufflepuff prefect Kirk had deliberately led older students to block the Slytherin first-years, forcing them to walk behind the Hufflepuffs.
Unaware of the brewing storm, Wentworth was happily enjoying his dinner, oblivious to Cassandra's schemes.
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