The Young Wizard Whose Name They Dared Not Mention

Snape scanned the speakers one by one, twitching the corners of his lips when others laughed, and nodding when others nodded.

He had heard these pieces of news in pieces. Even if he was not in this association, Slytherin common room often had rumors coming out.

In everyone's opinion, the Ministry of Magic officials are each more stupid than the last.

The minister is a decoration and the director is a loser. Auror Office can't even look down on his own people. It seems that the whole world knows that the building has been turned into a sieve. Ministry of Magic is stupid. This is the consensus in this room and it has almost become the consensus of the entire Slytherin.

But listening in Common Room is different from listening here in Taiyi.

In the lounge, it was a rumor, a fragment, a half-sentence sent by someone's owl.

In this room, it was spoken of as a given future.

He listened without making any move, and another thought came to his mind.

If Ministry of Magic was really that stupid, how could he survive today?

Everyone said it was stupid, but everyone was saying that there was something wrong with the matter itself.

If Ministry of Magic was really that stupid, stupid enough to be pointed at and laughed at by a bunch of fifteen or sixteen-year-old boys, it should have fallen apart long ago. But it didn't fall apart. Minchum was sitting in the minister's seat, bills were passed, official documents were issued, and the gears of various departments were still turning, and they were still in charge of the wizards of this country.

It is impossible for a fool who can be seen through by everyone to do this.

On the other hand, if a person can sit still when everyone thinks he is stupid, then he may not be stupid, he may be pretending, or he may be waiting.

Or, he's not stupid, he's just bad.

Snape was shocked by his conclusion.

Everyone said Ministry of Magic was stupid, but he was the only one who saw that Ministry of Magic was not stupid, but bad.

As soon as this idea came up, he was satisfied for a while.

This sense of clarity served him well, and once again his wisdom did not let him down.

He turned this idea over in his mind, and the more he thought about it, the more it seemed right.

Pure-bloods in the room would only scold him, but he was the only one sitting in the corner who saw through the truth.

He didn't say this thought out loud, fearing that if he did say it, no one in the room would be able to pick it up.

He doesn't need to use this to prove anything, he just needs to know what he is thinking.

They continued to laugh at Ministry of Magic's stupidity, and he twitched the corner of his mouth, thinking about his own truth, feeling that tonight was not in vain.

The conversation took a turn in another direction following Ministry of Magic's post.

This time it was a fourth grader named Quintus Krum sitting in the corner who spoke first.

The Krum family has a certain foundation in Pure-blood Circle. His ancestors produced several Wizengamot secretaries. In his father's generation, he mainly worked as a middle-level official in Ministry of Magic.

Their family is qualified to enter the circle, but they cannot sit at the main table.

He usually doesn't talk much, but every time he opens his mouth, there is an air of uncontrollable hostility.

"It's okay for Ministry of Magic's gang to occupy the position. Let Mudblood and Half-bloods climb up and take care of Pure-bloods. What a shame!"

He took out the wand, held it in his hand and waved it vigorously, swishing. "Wizengamot's seat, the chief of each department, should be Pure-bloods, and it must be like this in the future!"

"That's it now." Someone answered.

"Now?" Krum grinned. "Department of International Magical Cooperation The deputy director is Half-bloods, the one under Department of Magical Transportation is Floo Network Office, and two of the three supervisors are Half-bloods.

And Improper Use of Magic Office, the newly appointed director, do you know his last name?"

"What's your last name?" someone asked knowingly, with a frivolous tone of voice that was waiting for a good show.

"Half-bloods Forget it," Krum ignored him, put the wand into his cuff, and his voice became colder. "Mudblood is sitting on top giving orders, and Pure-bloods is listening below.

This kind of thing shouldn't happen even a day in Ministry of Magic!"

Snape's fingers curled up on his knees for a moment and then relaxed again.

His name is Half-bloods. These words were not directed at him, but no one was avoiding him. He was sitting in this room and could hear clearly.

Half of his blood comes from Tobias·Snape, the Muggle who got drunk in Spinner's End's shabby house and had no Magic talent at all.

This is the uncleanest thing on his body and can never be washed off.

There was no expression on his face, and he even nodded slightly, just enough for the people next to him to see.

He has a badge, he has recognition, he is accepted, he has a place in the house.

This position was not obtained by blood, nor by surname, but by ability.

Potions's ability, Dark Arts's ability, and the name behind that badge.

He returned his attention to the conversation.

"Speaking of Half-bloods"

Someone diverted the conversation to the side, but Krum's few words had already set the tone in a more radical direction.

Someone spoke again.

"If you ask me, Hogwarts should no longer send admission letters to Muggle's house. The owl flew to Muggle's house and dropped a letter. Then those Muggle-born thought they were the same as us."

"Those rubbish," he continued, with a sense of excitement that had been suppressed for too long and finally found an outlet in his voice. "They shouldn't be in Castle at all, and they shouldn't have a place in Castle.

Castle is so big, if you take one Mudblood, you will lose one Pure-bloods, which is not even one."

"Augustus," Wilkes interrupted him, "Talk about enrollment."

Augustus opened his mouth and closed it again. He turned around and looked around, but no one answered his words.

Those who were still echoing Krum just now are now looking at their own robes and others' robes.

He retracted his body into the chair, rubbed his fingers on his cuffs twice, lowered his voice by more than half, and said in a sarcastic tone:... Anyway, it shouldn't be delivered to Muggle's home."

No one will take this issue again.

The torch crackled on the wall, and the charcoal fragments fell on the edge of the iron frame, flicked and went out.

Snape saw everyone's reaction.

Less than a year ago, someone in Slytherin publicly called Cleaning the Trash.

Arnold·Belmont, seventh grade, stood in the middle of Common Room, and everyone in the crowd agreed.

At that time, these words were shouted loudly, the atmosphere was enthusiastic, and Pure-bloods around them stood up one after another, almost turning into action.

Snape has also been in that kind of atmosphere. It's not just talk, it's almost like someone will actually attack those little wizards Muggle-born.

Later, Belmont was suppressed. Since then, the trend has changed.

The most cruel words are not in the mood to say in Slytherin.

related to a person.

He is not in that circle and cannot see exactly how it changed. He only remembers this change.

The conversation turned away from Muggle-born.

This time it was Wilkes who took over the words, his tone a little higher than before, more like setting the tone for the previous chaotic remarks. "To be clear about it," he raised his eyelids and said in a light voice, "You also have to look at the old brands. They are never ambiguous. Which side they stand on is clear from the beginning."

There is no need to specify these words. Everyone here knows which surnames he is talking about. Those who stand most firmly next to Dark Lord are Sacred Twenty-Eight. Wilkes. The names are not counted down because these surnames do not need to be tested.

Then his tone changed from frivolous to contemptuous. "It's not just Mudblood that really needs to be dealt with, there are also bad ones among our own people." Some people agreed with their faces, "That's right."

"Weasley, Pruitt, Longbottom," he smiled maliciously, "I can't find fault with my bloodline. I want to be as clean as possible, but I just stand outside. Pure-bloods, I'm going the wrong way."

"Weasley," Gibbon sneered, "That family is so poor, they have a litter of children, and they still hang out with Muggle, so Pure-bloods, just jump into the ditch by yourself."

"Blood is good blood," Wilkes said slowly, "Brains are bad brains."

"This is worse than Mudblood," Augustus added coldly, and the energy from being pressed came back. "Mudblood was born dirty, they chose to be dirty."

He looked around with a fierce expression. "We'll clean it up together sooner or later."

This time no one touched him, and everyone in the room nodded.

Snape Listen to these names being read out one by one.

Weasley, Pruitt, Longbottom, all Pure-bloods, all traitors.

In the mouths of this group of people, this kind of person is more hateful than Mudblood. His blood is good, but his heart is turned toward the outside. He is betrayal, wasteful, and self-willed. When they say these things, they don't care about Snape's reaction at all.

He is the only Half-bloods in this association. Listen to the Pure-bloodss scolding those Pure-bloodss who are on the wrong team, and by the way, Half-bloods and Mudblood.

When they were scolding, they probably forgot who was in the room, or they didn't forget at all, they just didn't care.

Snape sat without moving, with the same expression on his face as when he first sat down.

But in his heart, he remembered everyone who spoke just now.

Who said something wise, who followed the booing, who almost said something he shouldn't have said but was pushed back, and who didn't even bother to show contempt when mentioning Weasley.

The torch crackled on the wall again, and the sky outside the window was completely dark.

After listening to the whole speech, Snape already confirmed in his heart that they dared to talk about anything.

In the future of Ministry of Magic, whose position should be cleared, who should be replaced, traitors with pure blood should all die, Weasley, Pruitt, Longbottom, one by one, they will be picked out and scolded.

The models that should be raised up, Malfoy, Roxier, Carrow, Rowle, Yaxley, are raised one by one as benchmarks.

Those who serve as role models serve as role models, and those who serve as targets serve as targets. When talking about this in a room full of underage boys, no one is soft-spoken.

There are no direct connections to Sacred Twenty-Eight in this room, and they cannot reach that circle.

But they were discussing Sacred Twenty-Eight, and they were spitting.

They mentioned many surnames and counted all the names they could praise and those they could criticize.

But there is one surname that no one touches from beginning to end.

Snape slowly came back to his senses.

When they talked about big families and held up examples, no one mentioned the surname that should be mentioned most.

When it came to calling traitors and discussing sides, no one even mentioned the surname that had already been chosen.

It is the same as bypassing Cleaning the Trash in the admissions section, but it is more thorough.

That one was reluctant to talk, and this one even avoided his name and no one mentioned it.

There was a tacit understanding among the people in the room, as if everyone had a tacit understanding.

Snape knows what this means and what surname it is.

Black.

He had known it for a long time. From the first time he stepped into this classroom and the first time he sat with these people, he had a vague feeling. But with every gathering, this feeling was clearer than the last time.

It's not that they forgot to mention Black, they bypassed Black.

Snape sat in the shadows and slowly understood something.

These Pure-bloodss know more than him.

They are Pure-bloods. They have been exposed to this set of things since they were young. They know who's family is what size and what their future situation will be. They avoid Black. Of course, they don't have nothing to say. There are too many things to say, and they dare not touch them.

They know Black family's status and who the heir will be in the future, so clear that they don't even dare to name it lightly. Snape can only guess.

He is Half-bloods. He is close to the edge of the circle and can hear them going around and can see the blank space.

But he couldn't see exactly how deep things were buried under that blank space.

What they feared was greater than what he saw.