Chapter 23: Baiting the Hook

Chapter 23: Baiting the Hook

The atmosphere in the Great Hall was electric. The young wizards at the long tables were all chatting excitedly.

The Gryffindor first-years were listening to a prefect tell stories of adventure, their table erupting in gasps of excitement every few moments.

The Ravenclaw first-years were listening to their prefect explain the coming term's curriculum, many of them already taking notes.

The Hufflepuff first-years... were eating. Their prefects... were eating even faster.

And at the Slytherin table, it was a scene of networking and polite posturing. Most of the students were boasting about their prominent families and pure bloodlines, trading flattery back and forth. It had the distinct flavour of upper-class, insincere enthusiasm.

Leon, an outlier in their midst, sat next to Malfoy and ate his meal with slow, methodical movements. He had nothing but contempt for this kind of pointless socializing.

He had little respect for the so-called pure-blood families. They were so focused on their lineage that they had made countless sacrifices to ensure their "purity." Take the Sacred Twenty-Eight, for example. Many of them had engaged in the idiotic practice of inbreeding, which was no different from self-destruction.

After finishing the last bite of his dessert, Leon elegantly wiped his mouth and turned to the boy beside him.

"Draco," he said conversationally, "when all of you so-called pure-bloods get together, can't you talk about something useful? Like how to pool your families' influence to oust Dumbledore. Have you fed your Slytherin ambition to the dogs?"

Malfoy shot Leon a look as if he were a lunatic. He silently lowered his head and drank his seventh cup of what looked like a Calming Draught. Only then did the terror in his heart begin to subside.

"Draco! Why so quiet tonight?" a prefect with a loud voice called out, drawing the attention of the whole table. "Most of you probably know him already, but allow me to make the introduction. Draco Malfoy! Of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the future head of the Malfoy family! His father is a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors!"

Malfoy stood up, forced a smile, and gave a small wave to the table before sitting back down immediately. On any other night, he would have basked in the attention. But with this monster sitting next to him, he was in no mood to show off.

"Alright," the prefect said, his gaze landing on Leon. "And the young gentleman next to Draco. Your table manners are a pleasure to watch, but your knife and fork haven't stopped all night."

"You're the only one left. Say a few words."

The prefect, apparently not wanting anyone to feel left out, had turned the spotlight on Leon.

"Leon Shelby," he replied simply. "From Birmingham."

His aura was so unique, his manners so impeccable, that everyone at the table assumed he must be from a distinguished family. But rack their brains as they might, none of them could recall a single prominent wizarding family with the surname Shelby.

The respect in their eyes began to curdle into disdain. They had seen his elegant suit and refined manners and assumed he was a young noble. Now it seemed he was, at best, the heir of some fallen, irrelevant house.

Just as the table's attention was moving on, someone whispered.

"A while back, I heard someone at Gringotts exchanged nearly a million Galleons... paid in pounds."

"They said it was a kid... dressed all in black."

"And I think... his name was Shelby."

At these words, every eye snapped back to him. The disdain vanished, replaced by a stunned respect. Even Malfoy looked at Leon in shock.

The Slytherin table fell silent, everyone staring at Leon's black suit.

"I did go to Gringotts to exchange Galleons," Leon's voice cut through the silence. "I am Muggle-born. Before I received my Hogwarts letter, I lived my entire life in the Muggle world."

His words set off another shockwave. Everyone stared at him in disbelief.

A wizard with two Muggle parents was "Muggle-born." Like Harry's mother, Lily. And like Hermione.

And "Muggle-born" had another name.

Mudblood.

A strange, heavy silence fell over the Slytherin table. No one said the word aloud, but the contempt and disgust in their eyes were unmistakable.

The Welcome Feast ended in this awkward quiet.

Dumbledore's voice echoed through the hall.

"Well, now that we are all fed and watered, I must ask for your attention for a few start-of-term notices."

"First-years should note that the forest on the school grounds is forbidden to all pupils."

For some reason, as he said this, Leon felt Dumbledore's gaze flick deliberately towards him.

"Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you all that no magic should be used in the corridors between classes."

"And finally," Dumbledore's voice became grave, "I must tell you that this year, the fourth-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Leon was absolutely certain. As he said that last line, Dumbledore had looked directly at him.

"And now, bedtime! Off you go!"

With Dumbledore's brief speech concluded, the students of the four Houses stood and began to follow their prefects out of the Great Hall.

Just as Leon stepped out of the hall, he heard someone call his name. He turned to see Harry and Ron running up to him, a girl with bushy hair trailing behind them.

"Mr. Shelby!" Harry said, panting, a look of disappointment on his face. "I was really hoping we'd be in the same House..."

"It's no matter," Leon smiled. "We're still at the same school. We'll have classes together. I've seen the timetable. We share Potions."

He patted Harry on the shoulder. "Now, you'd better follow your prefect back to your common room. This place is enormous. You'll get lost on your own."

After saying goodbye, Leon turned and followed the Slytherin students as they headed for their common room.

The Slytherin common room was located in the dungeons, at the end of a long, dark corridor. Leon deliberately slowed his pace, falling to the very back of the group. The corridor was cold; he tucked his hands into his pockets.

As he turned a corner, he stopped.

A group of older Slytherin students was blocking the path, sneering at him.

"Got any Galleons on you... little Mudblood?"

Leon nodded in satisfaction. His fishing expedition had been a success. He'd gotten a bite.