The Social Death Squad Gains Another Fierce Member

After filling their stomachs, the six children decided to "take a stroll" in the Slytherin dormitories.

Do you have a way to deal with those items?

Vincent, smiling without saying a word, raised the Mithril Briefcase.

Fred and George ran out of the kitchen laughing and joking.

The Old Bat are staying in the Bat Cave; this is a great opportunity.

After sneaking into the dormitory without making a sound, Cedric used the password he had obtained from a Slytherin girl.

"Pure-blood— " he said with a mournful face, "Can you please not make me go next time? They'll find out sooner or later."

"You've worked hard, bro." George patted his shoulder seriously. "For a better tomorrow for us, go on a few more dates with them."

"You—you are so heartless!" Cedric pushed open the door and walked in, his face full of resentment.

To sacrifice his looks and make it sound so Diadem is simply the best frenemy of Hogwarts.

"To be honest, Vincent is in a much better position than me." He suddenly stopped.

At 12 years old, he was nearly 170 cm tall, with a physique stronger than most adults, and a handsome face that was still quite young but full of confidence.

Cedric stood side by side with Vincent, saying, "If I'm a pretty boy, he's definitely a tough guy."

He patted his arm, which was a size thicker than his own, and said, "Listen to that, how crisp the sound is!"

"It's not that I don't want to," Vincent spread his hands, "Other colleges are fine, but all the girls here don't like me, okay?"

"That's true." Fred shook his head regretfully. "Cedric, until the situation improves, we'll have to make do with you."

"Until graduation, right?" Cedric said with a sour face. "I shouldn't have trusted you in the first place."

If Merlin could give me another chance, I definitely wouldn't eat that hot pot.

George hooked his arm around his neck. "Even if you had to do it all over again, you would still choose to eat."

Cedric was speechless.

That night, it was obvious they were trying to lure him and Rolf into a trap; if there was no hot pot, there would have been something else.

By the time he arrived at the destination, he was already blushing from the twins' whispered teasing.

"As expected, there isn't any left." Vincent drew his wand and pointed it at the luxurious wooden door in front of him.

The Malfoy family had just been searched; even the most audacious person wouldn't dare to openly display Dark Magic items.

So what if he's School Board Member? Fudge is still waiting to reap the second wave of profits.

The pale blue light emanating from the tip of the Alder Wand was breaking down the magical traps at the doorway one by one.

Without any Dark Magic items, these things can be resolved simply by using the Finite Incantatem.

"Click—" Vincent gently pushed open the door and entered the room he hadn't been to for almost a year.

As always, it was understated yet luxurious and classy; as always, he slept like a log.

Perhaps because of Snape's unpredictable patrols, there was nothing set up around Draco's bed.

Vincent opened the briefcase with great skill and took out a very ordinary rope.

Fred and George were equally adept at pulling large Dungbombs from their pockets.

Hermione rolled her eyes on the spot.

Now she finally understood why Draco had been wearing such a pungent perfume for a few days last year.

If you can go through nearly twenty of those without breaking down, you'd be considered to have exceptional mental fortitude.

It's still that crystal chandelier, still that school robe on the hanger, still that spot where it was tied up.

Everything is exactly the same as last year.

If I had to point out a difference, it would be that there are three more audience members.

When the rope thinned, the six little ones quietly left.

Do you think he'll fall for it again?

"Definitely not."

"Believe me, he will."

Not to mention the original setup being removed, the fact that they were sleeping like logs already sealed the fate of the situation.

The sunshine the next day was exceptionally bright, just as bright as the laughter that erupted in the Great Hall.

"Wow—" The twins huddled around the Slytherin table and took a deep breath.

"Whose expensive perfume is this? We feel like we've smelled it somewhere before."

After taking dozens of baths, Draco's pink skin became even redder.

"Damn redheads, did you guys do this?!"

"How could that be?"

Just as Crabbe and Goyle were about to get up, Lockhart, with his signature smile, trotted over.

"Perfume? What perfume?" He sniffed at Fred and George, then bent down to face Draco.

"I remember you, Mr. Malfoy's precious son."

"I have a name, Professor." Draco raised his chin high. "Listen carefully, my name is Draco — Draco Malfoy."

Lockhart nodded slightly, then straightened his back. "As your teacher, I truly have no reason to discipline you—"

But as your father's good friend, I have to tell you something.

He lightly fanned his clothes. "See? Even I'm not wearing perfume!"

I've been through your age, and I understand your desire for attention.

"Pfft—hahahaha—" The laughter in the Great Hall grew even louder.

Draco's fists were clenched tightly.

"But, but," Lockhart said earnestly, seemingly unaffected, "This idea is undoubtedly wrong."

You're at an age where you should be focusing on your studies; you shouldn't waste your time on these crooked and unorthodox methods.

The "social death group" has gained another powerful member.

Lockhart left not as dejected as he had been the day before, but rather with a sense of accomplishment, as if he had persuaded a lost youth to return.

"He's actually quite pleasing to the eye." In a good mood Harry drank an extra bowl of oatmeal.

Ron was drinking his third bowl. "Honestly, I'm starting to think we're incredibly lucky."

"Feel the same."

Draco skipped class that day.

It's still a whole day.

When he received Lucius's letter that evening, he completely broke down.

"A tattered Defense Techniques class! A tattered professor!"

Lockhart is supposed to be a recipient of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, so no matter how unreliable he is, he has to be given some respect.

Otherwise, it would be disrespectful to Wizengamot, the Ministry of Magic, and Fudge, who is in charge of awarding medals.

"Draco, why don't we just do what Wayne and the others did!"

"Yeah, they can handle Quirrell, so why can't we?"

Crabbe and Goyle's idea made Draco "beam with delight".

"Go ahead, and you'd better lock him up in Azkaban too."

They've ruined their reputation at Hogwarts, not in the vast Wizarding World.

If each of those fanatical fans spat at us, we could flood the entire Slytherin dormitory in no time.

Crabbe and Goyle, unaware of the implications, took this to heart.

Unfortunately, they were caught red-handed by Snape as soon as they went out that night.

"Professor, we—"

"Get back there!"

Feeling terrible Snape returned to the first floor and sat back down on the small stool placed in front of the dungeon entrance.

By 3 a. m., he had quite a good reason to suspect that a group of scoundrels knew his whereabouts.

What? Draco is in a bad situation?

Is it any worse than him pulling an all-nighter?