Although there is no conclusive evidence, the descendants of those Squib, who are called "Mudblood" by extreme Pure-blood, usually have high magical talent.
After generations of disappointment, having become integrated into Muggle society and completely forgotten that magical world, magic suddenly and dramatically smiled upon them.
Perhaps it's accumulation, perhaps it's compensation.
Pansy knew Daphne was right, and all the wizards who supported the theory of bloodline knew it was right.
Some people can still deceive themselves, while others are already feeling exhausted.
Wayne is no good person!
"But he's not a bad person either."
She understood.
If the Blood Curse on Astoria could be removed, Daphne and even the entire Greengrass Family would abandon the theory of bloodline and become a pro -Muggle Pure-blood family like the Weasley.
The premise is that Vincent has ambitions to match.
But in Draco's words, he was an ambitious demon who dreamed of letting Muggle ride on top of wizards.
Pansy stopped in front of the dormitory door. "Have you made your choice?"
"Half and half."
She forced a smile. "Very well, any decision we Slytherin make requires careful consideration."
Daphne knew that their relationship had broken down, but they were just maintaining it on the surface.
"If he fails, it will prove that he is not as good as I thought."
They entered the Slytherin Common Room with fake smiles on their faces.
A large group of students, ranging from first to seventh grade, had gathered in front of the bulletin board.
"Let's go take a look."
"Good."
To overcome this sense of unfamiliarity, they focused their attention on a piece of parchment that had just been nailed on.
Duelling Club?
8 PM tonight?
Great Hall?
Daphne and Pansy stared at each other blankly.
Which professor dares to make such a big fuss?
After dinner,
Owl Court Club Room.
Vincent, "Who else could it be but Lockhart?"
"No wonder he didn't come to class today."
Fred and George began to urge him on:
"Dude, don't you want to show yourself openly and honestly?"
"This is a great opportunity. When the Little Snakes see you dominate the entire scene or successfully resolve an unexpected situation, they will definitely do anything to become your underlings!"
"He is a new member of the Owl Court."
"Right, right, right." George glanced back at the clock on the wall. "There's still more than half an hour left. You can change into an outfit that will dazzle everyone."
Vincent looked down at his school uniform. "What do you think I should wear to stand out more than Lockhart?"
"Women's clothing!"
He picked up a Gwent from the table and threw it at James.
"What's the use of a glamorous appearance? What matters is the inner qualities."
Hermione, who had been keeping a low profile for the past two days, looked up and said, "That's right, being pretty doesn't put food on the table."
"Hmm?" Fred tilted his head and looked at her.
"Miss Know-It-All- All actually spoke!"
Hermione Big White and glared at her fiercely. "I'm not as heartless as you guys."
"It's nothing," George said, hooking his Vincent's shoulder. "Right, buddy?"
"Perhaps I should be more obvious?"
"What?"
"Anger, unhappiness, depression, these things."
George's smile stiffened. "You're kidding, right?"
"No."
"Gulp—" Fred swallowed hard.
"I was just kidding." Vincent shook his head slightly at Hermione.
Sometimes being too serious can actually cause cracks in friendships.
He genuinely didn't see anything wrong with not trusting himself.
But for Hermione, this was a thorn in her side.
She felt that distrust stemming from suspicion was tantamount to betrayal.
Fred and George looked left at Vincent, who was smiling, and right at Hermione was hanging her head and didn't dare to look up.
They stood up as if they had understood something.
"Oh dear, we need to get there and cause some trouble soon!"
"Shall we give Lockhart a surprise first?"
"Great idea!"
After they left, Hermione glanced at Vincent discreetly.
After realizing he wasn't really angry, she mustered up the courage to sit next to him.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"
"Our friendship isn't that fragile, is it?"
She paused, then tentatively looked into his eyes.
"If one day I also question what you've done, will you think I've betrayed you?"
"No, but this is different!"
"Same." Vincent pointed to himself. "I'm not a god. I make mistakes and I do things you hate."
"And God is—" He shook his head and didn't continue.
Hermione didn't pay much attention to the second half of the sentence.
She took a photo frame out of a small, semi-circular cloth bag.
September 19, 1992.
According to Lavender's seemingly unreliable astrology, Virgo women may appear calm on the surface, but they are often sensitive and vulnerable inside.
"I've figured it out." Hermione carefully put the photo frame back. "Our friendship is not fragile; in fact, it's much stronger than I ever imagined."
Vincent stood up from his chair. "It's almost time. I need to do my best."
"Don't you dislike expressing yourself?"
"Like I just said, I can also do some really nasty things."
The two followed the students toward the Great Hall.
As they were going down the stairs, they ran into Fred and George, who were pouting.
"It worked?"
"No."
Vincent found it hard to believe.
"Could it be that Merlin is favoring Lockhart?"
George smirked, "We ran into him on the third floor. We had just thrown the Dungbombs at him when he looked over as if he knew beforehand."
Fred raised his wand. "He simply waved it like this, and the two Dungbombs froze in mid-air."
In their view, this was simply impossible.
"He's a professor," Vincent continued down the steps. "No matter how bad he is, he still knows a few Nonverbal spells."
The twins regained their spirits.
"That's right, he dared to openly run Duelling Club, it must be because he drank a whole bottle of Felix Felicis."
"And then there's Merlin's favor?"
"That's terrifying!"
They skipped and hopped along behind.
The Great Hall was packed with people; it seemed like all the students in the school had come.
The long tables had all disappeared, replaced by a gilded stage running along the wall.
Illuminated by hundreds of floating candles, were excited little faces clutching their wands.
"Perhaps it's Professor Flitwick," Seamus, who arrived first, offered his reasoning. "He was a dueling champion in his youth, so this must have been organized by him."
"Maybe it's Snape," Dean said, pointing to the dark ceiling. "Bats aren't active at night, are they?"
"That's true!" Seamus leaned back slightly. "Anyway, as long as it's not—NO!"
This sentence turned into a groan.
Because he came, he walked onto the stage wearing a crimson robe.
Lockhart looked radiant on stage, just as she did at the holiday awards ceremony.
Snape, who came up with them, was the complete opposite.
As always, he wore a black robe, his expression was extremely gloomy, and his black eyes were full of impatience.
No one would believe that two such extreme people standing together wouldn't cause something to happen.