The Weasley Twin Dogs

After dinner, Angelina told Harry and the others, looking utterly dejected, that there would be no Quidditch practice for the time being—her application to reorganize the Gryffindor Quidditch Team had not been approved.

Harry was shocked and said he had been very restrained and hadn't provoked Umbridge, but Angelina said helplessly that Umbridge was still "considering."

Ron was indignant, questioning why the Slytherin Quidditch Team had already been approved while they were being delayed. Harry, on the other hand, realized that Umbridge was deliberately using the team's fate to threaten them, unwilling to easily relinquish this means of control.

Just then, a hearty laugh suddenly came from the doorway.

"Ha ha ha ha!"

Harry turned around and saw a tall figure stride into the common room, surveying the surroundings with an imposing air. McLaggen. A smug smile played on his lips, as if the entire common room were his territory. Behind him, Kenneth Toller, Harold Dingo, and Farrell Bertha Jorkins followed like loyal followers, their faces full of obsequious smiles.

McLaggen walked straight to Angelina, stood opposite her, and brazenly looked her up and down, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

"I heard Quidditch training has been banned?" he said, a hint of mockery in his voice.

Angelina looked up, frowning in disgust. "What's it to you?"

"Of course it's my business." McLaggen shrugged, a smug smile spreading across his face. "After all, I have some connections with Umbridge."

Harry frowned immediately, while Ron clenched his fists angrily.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked coldly.

McLaggen shrugged mysteriously and said slowly, "You should know that my uncle works at the Ministry of Magic and has a very, very good relationship with Madam Umbridge... to put it bluntly, I'm practically an acquaintance of hers."

"If some people are willing to follow me, support me..." He lowered his voice deliberately, but his gaze swept over Angelina's shoulder more brazenly, even making no attempt to hide his admiration for the curves beneath her tight sweater, "I could put in a good word for them with Umbridge, and maybe, the Quidditch team's restructuring application will be... unexpectedly approved."

His gaze fell on Angelina again, his eyes filled with undisguised greed.

Angelina's face was extremely pale. She stood up abruptly, her gaze sharp as she stared at McLaggen: "Listen, McLaggen, I won't take orders from you just because of a little charity!"

McLaggen's face darkened instantly, but he quickly regained his confident smile. "Well, that's your loss."

He glanced around haughtily and announced loudly, "Fellow Gryffindor, you should all be familiar with me. I am Cormac McLaggen, the Prefect of Year 6, and my uncle is a member of the Wizengamot— "

Whispers erupted in the lounge; many were puzzled by his sudden remark, while others wore thoughtful expressions.

Listening to the surrounding chatter, McLaggen's smile deepened. He raised his chin and continued, "Professor Umbridge's power is expanding rapidly, and the Ministry of Magic's intervention—" His voice suddenly turned cold, tinged with undisguised sarcasm, "Will only get worse."

The crowd exchanged bewildered glances, many of them displaying expressions of worry.

"Because of our 'Savior,' Harry Potter— " McLaggen emphasized the word "Savior," his tone dripping with sarcasm, "Gryffindor is being unfairly oppressed. We're being targeted, our rights are being stripped away, even Quidditch team training is becoming a problem."

"So, what should we do?" He scanned the crowd, his voice carrying a inflammatory, seductive tone, "Continue to swallow our anger? Continue to sit and wait for our doom?"

He suddenly curled his lips into a smile, his eyes gleaming with a burning light, as if he could already see a glorious future ahead.

"No, Gryffindor needs a true leader! Someone who can lead us through this difficult time and help us rise again."

"And that person is—me."

McLaggen straight, his handsome face radiating arrogance and confidence, his eyes shining brightly as if he had already become a king.

Hermione curled her lip in disdain, her eyes revealing a cold contempt.

McLaggen's words and actions were exactly like those of an arrogant, incompetent, and spoiled brat. He was good for nothing except having an uncle from Wizengamot; compared to him—

Hermione's heart tightened, her thoughts being pulled in a direction she didn't want to touch.

Skylar Malfoy.

The name flashed through her mind, and an indescribable pain instantly surged in her chest, as if something were tightly constricting her heart, making her gasp for breath.

She clutched her robe tightly to her chest, her fingertips almost digging into the fabric.

Why? Why does she still think of him?

Even though I've made up my mind to cut ties with everything, why does that shadow still linger?

She stared intently at McLaggen, his figure slowly merging with Skylar's.

Both of them were Pure-blood nobles from illustrious families, both so proud, both so confident, both so noble, but—

Hermione understood that there would never be another Skylar in this world!

Because Skylar possessed true strength—that seemingly nonchalant and careless boy who had once killed the Basilisk to rescue Ginny, single-handedly fought hundreds of Dementor, won the Triwizard Tournament, saved Champion from a group of dark Potions Master, and won the Potions Championship... None of these achievements could compare to that of McLaggen, that arrogant fool with no achievements.

However, just when she thought no one would ever truly submit to him, an unbelievable scene unfolded.

Harry was equally surprised, but no one was as shocked as Ron was almost in a daze at the moment.

His two older brothers, Fred and George, stepped forward silently.

They were no longer as mischievous as before; they didn't throw a bottle of Canary Cream at McLaggen, nor did they conjure a squealing rubber duck behind him—they simply stood there, silently watching it all, with unnatural smiles on their faces.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione's hearts sank.

A terrifying thought began to surface in their minds.

With Mr. Weasley losing his job and the family having sold off all their valuables, the Weasley family is facing severe financial difficulties. Meanwhile, the Weasley Twins, who have always dreamed of opening a prank shop, went so far as last month to publicly humiliate themselves on a bulletin board in an attempt to make money.

"So, you've thought it through?" McLaggen smiled as he walked towards the Weasley Twins, patting them on the shoulder. "I knew I hadn't misjudged you. You're truly intelligent, knowing how to choose a true leader to follow. By the way, haven't you always wanted to open a shop? Your products need capital and connections, and I happen to be able to provide those."

Fred's smile froze for a moment, while George looked away, seemingly unwilling to look directly at McLaggen's face.

"We're just... thinking about it," George said vaguely.

"Ha, consider it?" McLaggen shrugged. "Don't be silly, Weasley. When it comes to money and power, 'considering' is superfluous."

He casually pulled a small bag of Galleon from his pocket, which looked to be about twenty, tossed it in his hand, and then gently handed it to George. "This is just a small gift; there will be more in the future—provided, of course, that you're willing to be smart."

Harry saw George's fist clench slightly, and Fred's expression also became somewhat unnatural, but in the end, they did not refuse, but silently accepted McLaggen's "gift".

However, what happened next was something no one expected and was incredibly humiliating.

"Hey, Weasley, bring that chair over here for me." McLaggen lazily pointed to a chair not far away.

Fred and George's faces froze instantly. They exchanged a glance, their lips trembling slightly, as if they wanted to refute something. But in the end, Fred sighed, walked over, bent down, and obediently moved the chair next to McLaggen.

"Good boy." McLaggen patted Fred on the shoulder, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "See? I told you, money makes the world go round."

Kenneth and the others nearby burst into laughter, and Harold even deliberately reached out to pat George's cheek, saying, "You two brothers are really smart; you know that following the right person is the key to a future."

George's fists were clenched tightly, veins bulging, and his face was filled with shame and indignation. But in the end, he simply stood there with his head down, silently accepting everything.

Hermione jumped up and slammed her quill onto the table.

"This is outrageous!" she said through gritted teeth, her eyes filled with rage. "McLaggen is a complete opportunist. He built his own power base at Hogwarts, and Fred and George... they actually..."

"They actually gave in," Harry said softly, a flicker of pain in his eyes.

This wasn't like the Weasley Twins they knew—the pranksters who dared to challenge authority and scorned money, now bowing down to McLaggen's Galleon?

Ron's face was also extremely pale. He stared intently at the twins' backs, his fists clenched until they turned white. Of course, he knew what his two older brothers were thinking—that feeling of being suffocated by poverty was something he knew better than anyone.

Images flashed through his mind: his mother sitting in the kitchen, silently wiping away tears as she tidied her faded, patched-up apron; Ginny carefully turning the pages of her secondhand textbook, its cover torn and covered in notes from previous owners; his father's helpless sigh as he received his paycheck each month; his own wizard's robe, mended countless times, and his secondhand Broomstick, practically falling apart...

Their family was truly terrified of poverty.

He hated this feeling, hated it so much he gritted his teeth, but in the face of true poverty, were so-called dignity and pride really that important?

Ron's throat moved, but he couldn't say anything.

At this moment, the students nearby began to whisper among themselves.

"I've heard that Marcos Belby and Eddie Camille of Ravenclaw have also followed him."

"What?! No way?!" A fifth-grade girl stared wide-eyed in disbelief.

"Belby out of the question, his family has no status, and he's always short of money... But Camille—he's Prefect!"

"Who knows? Maybe McLaggen's offer was too tempting."

Hermione jerked her head up, her anger now undisguised. She gripped the quill tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force.

"Camille too...?" she repeated softly, her voice filled with disbelief.

Eddie Camille is a typical Ravenclaw student: intelligent, meticulous, and academically rigorous. He achieved nine outstanding results in the Overwatch League, and more importantly, as Ravenclaw Prefect —he actually chose to follow McLaggen of Gryffindor?

This is no longer as simple as McLaggen simply bribing a few henchmen.

He is building his own power base, a power backed by money, power, and Umbridge's support.

This is not merely a factional struggle among students, or even just an internal Hogwarts issue—it is a microcosm of a larger power struggle, an invisible contest between the Ministry of Magic and Dumbledore, quietly infiltrating the school.

The most frightening thing is that many students have begun to give in.