Hogwarts: Third Dark Lord

When Wentworth admitted that he hadn't yet learned the counter-spell, Waylin's face fell into utter despair. The surrounding Hogwarts students, watching him dangle helplessly upside-down in midair, couldn't help but glance at him with a mix of pity and amusement. A tense silence fell over the Great Hall.

Then, a sharp, angry voice cut through the stillness.

"Wentworth! Who told you to meddle in other people's business?!"

Everyone turned toward the source of the voice to see Cassandra, her eyes red and fixed on Wentworth. Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke.

"Are you pitying me? I'm telling you—I don't need your sympathy!"

Without waiting for a response, Cassandra grabbed her belongings and marched off with her head held high.

Cedric opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say something to her retreating figure, but Wentworth tugged his sleeve lightly, shaking his head. Cedric understood and swallowed his words. Cassandra, meanwhile, strode out of the Great Hall without looking back. However, just as she reached the doorway, an unnoticed, mischievous smile crept onto her lips.

But the moment Cassandra stepped outside, she froze mid-stride.

"Professor Dumbledore… Professor Snape…"

Her face turned pale as she stared at the two figures standing silently around the corner outside the Hall. It was impossible to tell how long they had been there.

Hearing Cassandra's startled exclamation, Wentworth muttered a quiet "Oh no" under his breath. Sure enough, Dumbledore and Snape entered the Great Hall moments later.

Snape stormed in, his eyes blazing with fury. He glanced briefly at Waylin, still suspended in the air, before turning his venomous gaze to Wentworth.

"Who taught you that spell?!" Snape growled. "And you had the audacity to use it against a fellow student?!"

Wentworth looked up at Snape with a face of innocent bewilderment.

"Professor Snape," he began earnestly, "I only wanted to keep Waylin's spittle from sullying the Great Hall. It wasn't intentional—it was a mishap!"

Snape, of course, didn't believe a word of Wentworth's explanation. His lips curled into a sneer.

"So, instead of using the Levitation Charm, you thought it appropriate to use the Levicorpus spell? Don't tell me someone who can cast Levicorpus so fluently doesn't know the Levitation Charm!"

At Snape's pointed words, Wentworth's face lit up as though he had just had a sudden realization.

"Oh, right! I could've just used the Levitation Charm! How could I not think of that? Thank you for the suggestion, Professor Snape—I'll definitely remember for next time!" Wentworth promised, his tone dripping with sincerity.

Snape was so incensed by Wentworth's cheeky response that his breath became audibly heavier. Just as Snape prepared to retort, Dumbledore stepped in.

"Now, now, Severus," Dumbledore said with a serene smile. "Spells were invented for wizards to use, after all. Who are we to complain about the existence of Levicorpus?"

Snape spluttered, momentarily at a loss for words. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, he strode over to Waylin, who was still hanging in midair.

"Liberacorpus!" Snape barked.

With a shriek, Waylin plummeted to the ground, only to be caught unceremoniously in Snape's arms. For a moment, Waylin looked up at his professor with teary eyes.

"Thank you, Professor Snape—ah!"

Before he could finish his sentence, Snape unceremoniously dumped him onto the floor.

Snape then returned to Dumbledore's side, his expression dark. "Headmaster," he began, "regardless of the circumstances, Wentworth's reckless use of a spell against a fellow student cannot go unpunished!"

Cedric, standing nearby, was about to interject on Wentworth's behalf when he felt a small tug at his robe. Wentworth shot him a meaningful glance, and Cedric reluctantly closed his mouth.

Taking a step forward, Wentworth addressed Dumbledore and Snape with a contrite expression.

"I sincerely apologize, Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Snape. Though I acted with good intentions and caused no real harm to Waylin, it's true that my spell startled him. As such, I am willing to accept any punishment."

Snape was momentarily speechless.

Wentworth quickly added, "How about this? I'll extend my evening duties in Professor Snape's office as a form of penance. Does that sound fair?"

At this suggestion, a ripple of admiration swept through the students in the Hall. Many gave Wentworth subtle thumbs-ups in approval.

In truth, Wentworth didn't mind spending extra time in Snape's office. While enduring Snape's biting sarcasm could be unpleasant, he had to admit that the knowledge he gained from the sessions was invaluable. After all, every bit of learning could become a crucial lifeline in times of need.

Snape, however, was less than pleased. "I've said it before—that is not punishment! It's a reward for your skill with a cauldron!"

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Originally, I thought this was merely a misunderstanding. But since Wentworth is so eager to accept punishment, it would be unkind to refuse. Let's do this—come to my office after your classes this afternoon."

Wentworth's smile faltered, and he opened his mouth to protest, but Dumbledore gave him no opportunity, departing the Hall with a swish of his robes.

Snape cast Wentworth one final withering glance before sweeping his gaze over the Slytherin students. The message was clear: they were to clear out immediately. Within moments, the Slytherins had gathered their belongings and scurried off to their classrooms. Even Waylin, clutching his backside, hobbled out of the Hall.

As Dumbledore and Snape disappeared, Cedric and Kirk hurried to Wentworth's side.

"That's amazing, Wentworth! You're going to Dumbledore's office!" Kirk exclaimed, throwing an arm around him.

Wentworth's expression was blank. "Is that really something to celebrate?"

"Of course it is!" Cedric chimed in enthusiastically. "This is Dumbledore we're talking about—the greatest wizard of our time!"

Wentworth could only offer a dry chuckle. To others, visiting Dumbledore might be a privilege, but for him, it was a risk. He harbored too many secrets—secrets that couldn't be discovered. And Dumbledore was far too perceptive.

Despite his unease, Wentworth found himself standing before Dumbledore's office that evening. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.

"Headmaster," he began nervously, "what punishment do you have in mind for me?"

Dumbledore gazed at him with a soft, enigmatic smile. For a moment, his piercing blue eyes seemed lost in thought. Then, after a long pause, he finally spoke.

"Wentworth, have you ever heard of the Quidditch World Cup?"

Wentworth: ???

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