Beauty Genes
On Saturday morning, the Great Hall was still slightly misty.
Justin sat alone at the Hufflepuff Long Table, a silver fork in his hand, his eyes blankly fixed on the fried eggs on his plate.
He was so sleepy that his eyelids were drooping.
He mechanically forked half a fried egg with his right hand and put it in his mouth, but his aim was off by an inch, and the tip of the fork hit his philtrum directly.
Hiss.
The intense pain jolted Justin awake, finally pulling his wandering soul back to reality.
He grabbed Napkin haphazardly, wiped his face, and sighed heavily.
Last night's inexplicable insomnia was definitely the strangest thing he had experienced in his thirteen years.
Later, when the dorm room became completely quiet, Justin figured the other two guys had fallen asleep, and he was the only one tossing and turning in bed until dawn.
"This is unbelievable."
He used to sleep very well.
But last night, it felt like there was something inside the dorm room.
He just couldn't fall asleep.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded behind me.
The footsteps were light, with a feeling of floating on cotton.
Turning around, I saw it was Rolf.
He shuffled over down the aisle and plopped down right across from Justin.
This former Beauxbatons transfer student, who was usually very polite, didn't even say hello, and simply rested his chin on the table, looking sleepy.
Rolf had two dark bruises under his eyes, and his golden-brown hair was sticking up in a mess, looking exactly like he had just been nudged by Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewt.
Justin tentatively began to speak:
"... You didn't sleep well later last night either?"
"Yes..."
Rolf's eyes darted around slowly, his voice fading.
Counting sheep was useless, so I kept thinking about you afterwards.
What do you want me to do?!
Justin dropped his fork into his plate, looking utterly shocked.
"I am not--"
"I was thinking about the Eton College you told me about." Rolf dragged the empty cup in front of him. "I usually get sleepy when you talk about it."
"..."
Justin stared at him, his lips twitching.
Rolf looked regretful.
"It didn't work last night, what a miracle."
"... So, do I still need to apologize to you?"
The two stared at each other across the table, each finding a touch of melancholy comfort in the dark circles under their eyes.
Just then, a stiff figure walked over from the end of the Long Table.
Ernie walked over with almost unsteady steps and sat down properly.
His eyes were bloodshot, and his dark circles were even more symmetrical Justin's and Rolf's.
Before the two could ask any questions, Ernie simply called out a number to thin air:
5:42.
Justin was taken aback. "What?"
That was the time when the first sparrow chirped outside the dormitory window.
Ernie's voice was terribly hoarse, carrying a sense of disorientation as if the whole world was about to collapse.
"After that, I remained in a standard supine position, with my eyes open, listening to the birdsong for a full hour and eighteen minutes."
"..."
"So you too--?"
"Yes," Ernie said dejectedly, "I didn't sleep all night either."
"Why--"
Three heavy sighs lingered at the dinner table for a moment.
Completely annihilated.
This is absolutely illogical.
Ernie placed his hands on the table, trying to analyze the reasons with a rigorous attitude:
"I suspect there was something wrong with the stew in the kitchen last night; most likely some House-elf accidentally spilled some potent Pepperup Potion into the pot."
"Come on," Justin rolled his eyes. "If there was really a problem with dinner, why is Gavin completely fine?"
Rolf nodded. "That's right, he ate more than anyone else last night. I even heard him turn over in bed at three in the morning. He's sleeping more soundly than I have in the History of Magic."
"So, someone put Curse on the dorm room?" Ernie frowned.
Rolf slammed his fist on the table, gritting his teeth:
"It must have been one of the Slytherins who did it, specifically targeting the three of us—"
"No, no, no--"
Rolf's voice suddenly caught in his throat as he finished speaking.
He suddenly remembered something, his right hand resting on the edge of the table trembled, and the color drained from his face at a visible speed.
Two seconds later, Rolf slowly raised his head, looking at Justin and Ernie with a terrified expression, and lowered his voice to a whisper:
"... Wait... Do you guys remember what happened yesterday morning during breakfast...?"
Justin's heart skipped a beat.
He remembers, but doesn't want to recall.
Rolf stared intently at him and spoke slowly and deliberately:
"Finch-Fletchley, Gavin only glanced to his left yesterday, and you reached across two plates to loosen the lid of his salt shaker and hand it to him."
"I... I just did it on a whim! Ernie's actions are even more outrageous than mine!"
Justin's face flushed red, and he quickly pointed to Ernie beside him.
"Yesterday he rinsed Gavin's empty teacup inside and out three times, and even used silver tongs to pick out every single seed from the lemon slice! I dare say he's never been this meticulous, not even when making tea for his grandfather!"
Ernie immediately became displeased and retorted, sticking his neck out:
"I was demonstrating Hufflepuff's classmate etiquette!"
Then, he looked at Rolf, who had started the conflict.
"It's much better than someone using a sterling silver ladle as a mirror to fix their hair, while unbuttoning their shirt collar and saying, 'The weather's nice today!'"
Rolf's Achilles' heel was struck, and his face turned green on the spot.
The three men started blaming each other, and a deathly silence fell over the table.
No one could utter a single word.
The sounds of other students laughing and playing around faded away at that moment.
The whole thing is getting increasingly bizarre.
Suddenly, Justin remembered something.
Yesterday during the day, it was only after Gavin appeared that the three of them completely lost control and began vying to fawn over each other.
At first, everything was fine when Gavin appeared, but then the three of them felt their hearts race and their bodies become hot, and they stayed awake until dawn.
Justin turned his neck with difficulty, looking at the bloodless Rolf, then at Ernie was stiff all over.
A terrifying thought suddenly surfaced in his mind.
The three of us...
Justin swallowed hard, his voice trembling uncontrollably:
"Could it be... the legendary gay relationship?"
"Impossible!!"
Rolf clutched his head with both hands, letting out a suppressed wail:
"Absolutely impossible! I've had so many girlfriends in Beauxbatons, how could I suddenly like a boy?! And it's Gavin, no less?"
Ernie, standing next to him, was even more pale, his lips trembling as he muttered softly:
"I'm the only male heir in the Macmillan Family this generation... If word gets out, how am I supposed to explain this to my grandfather...?"
Just as the three of them were holding their heads and questioning the meaning of life...
A clear and crisp voice suddenly broke in from behind them:
"That might mean your beauty genes have awakened."
Boom!
The three people were startled and almost sprang off the bench.
Justin turned his head sharply and saw Gavin standing behind him, looking refreshed.
His handsome face was fair and rosy, and his vibrant energy made him seem completely out of place among the three of them.
Gavin leisurely sat down in the empty seat between Justin and Ernie, casually taking a slice of toast from the plate.
He seemed to be in a good mood; he'd even started eating bread.
"W-when did you get here?!" Justin's voice cracked. "You heard everything?"
"No, I just arrived."
Gavin picked up the butter knife, his tone unusually considerate:
"I only heard about the gay part. I just want to say it's okay, it's very common in Britain."
All three of them shuddered simultaneously.
Justin, who had once received an acceptance letter from Eton College, felt a chill run down his spine and felt unclean. He really wanted to jump into the Black Lake and scrub himself clean several times.
Rolf, however, had keenly grasped the unfamiliar word from before. He leaned over, hands on the table, and cautiously began to speak:
"Wait! Gavin, what are these 'beauty genes' you just mentioned?!"
Gavin slowly spread butter on the toast without even looking up:
"That's a genetic hypothesis about gay men from the Muggle side."
Is it related to Brokeback Mountain?
Justin and Ernie also instinctively perked up their ears.
"Think about it--"
Gavin touched the edge of the plate with a butter knife, and before explaining, asked a question:
"This tendency clearly makes it difficult to leave offspring, and should have been eliminated by nature long ago in the process of human reproduction. So why has it persisted stably for thousands of years?"
The three of them shook their heads blankly.
They never thought about this question.
"Because what determines this tendency is actually a set of 'beauty genes' located on the X chromosome."
Gavin, without batting an eye, explained:
Women carrying this gene are often exceptionally beautiful and charming, and are more likely to leave more offspring for their families.
"When a beautiful mother passes on this X chromosome to her son, the son will not only inherit his mother's outstanding appearance, but if this gene is expressed too fully in his body, he will develop a tendency to be attracted to the same sex."
"That's why BL (Boys' Love) has remained popular for so many years."
There was silence on the Long Table for a full three seconds.
Rolf blinked and took a step forward following this rigorous scientific logic:
"... So you're saying that the more attractive a person is, and the more beautiful their mother is, the more likely they are to awaken?"
Gavin took a bite of the toast and nodded decisively.
"That's right."
The air froze instantly.
Rolf, sitting opposite him, slowly returned to his seat on the bench.
He glanced down at the gleaming silver spoon on the table, then reached out his right hand to touch his handsome face. The fear on his face gradually transformed into deep pain and a sense of destiny.
"I knew it... God gave me this face, and I'd have to pay the price..."
Justin's eye twitched violently; he really wanted to slap this narcissist awake.
But he stopped abruptly halfway up his hand.
That's not right.
His heart was racing all night last night.
"Could it be—" Justin murmured to himself, "That I'm actually a hidden, stunningly handsome man?"
Now let's look at Ernie on the other side.
Ernie had straightened his back again, chin slightly raised, his face a mixture of pride that "the Macmillan Family is indeed good-looking" and fear that "then am I in extreme danger?" as he fell into deep self-reflection.
It seems that having an exceptionally successful family can also be a burden.
Just as the three of them were each contemplating their own beauty in the air, a slender figure walked through the aisle of the Great Hall toward the Hufflepuff Long Table.
For some reason, Cordelia arrived very early today.
Justin caught a glimpse of that dazzling silver-gold hair out of the corner of his eye, and his heart skipped a beat. He quickly kicked Rolf and Ernie under the table.
The two, who were still reflecting on their actions, instantly snapped back to reality.
As if they had been simultaneously Langlock, the three of them raised their heads in unison and sat up stiffly.
It's over.
The main character has arrived!
For some reason, the three of them now have a feeling that they are having an affair.
Cordelia walked to the Long Table, first glancing down at Gavin to make sure he looked well, before her stern expression softened.
Immediately afterwards, the girl turned her gaze away.
Those cool, silver-gray eyes fell on Justin, Rolf, and Ernie's faces.
Seeing that all three of them had huge dark circles under their eyes, and that they had been sneakily Gavin, Cordelia's eyes instantly became wary.
She took half a step forward, subtly blocking Gavin's path, and coldly spoke:
"What did you three do last night?"
Boom!
These words struck Justin like a bolt from the blue.
She figured it out?
Miss Rowle noticed that the three of them had inappropriate feelings for her boyfriend?!
"N-nothing!"
Justin's silver fork clattered into the plate, and he nearly jumped off the bench, shaking his hands like a rattle-drum.
"We didn't do anything! Really! We each slept in our own beds last night, and we didn't even lift the bed curtains once!"
Cordelia frowned slightly, becoming even more suspicious at his intense reaction.
"I'm asking why you didn't sleep last night, what are you so guilty about?"
She stared into the eyes of the three men, pulled Gavin's arm closer to her, and her tone grew even colder:
"And what were you doing getting so close just now?"
Ernie, standing next to him, had a fine layer of cold sweat on his forehead.
He jumped up from the bench, feet together, and with the air of reciting family rules, loudly proved his innocence:
"Miss Rowle! I swear on the honor of the Macmillan Family, we had absolutely no intention of overstepping our bounds with Gu! Last night was purely an accident!"
Cordelia: "...?"
Rolf's expression changed drastically when he saw that Ernie was about to reveal the "Brokeback Mountain" and "beauty genes" on the spot if he said a few more words.
He covered Ernie's mouth with one hand and pulled Justin backward with the other:
"Oh, we just remembered we were supposed to go to the library to do some research this morning! It'll be opening soon, so please enjoy your meal, we'll be going now!"
Justin and Ernie didn't even dare to pick up the bacon from their plates; they followed Rolf and ran away.
The group dashed out of the Great Hall doors in a flash.
The sound of three people rushing about in a panic could still be heard at the entrance of the Great Hall.
Gavin picked up the bowl of oatmeal in front of him, took a sip, and shook his head helplessly.
He was just trying to tease his three roommates who were exhausted from staying up all night, so they wouldn't doubt his current identity.
As a result, these guys not only believed it all, but also took advantage of the situation, sitting there reflecting on whether they were too handsome.
It's like an old lady crossing the street; you have to admire her skill.
However, this is for the best.
It's better to doubt their sexual orientation than to doubt your own gender.
Cordelia stood by the Long Table, looking at the three almost untouched breakfasts on it, then turned her head and looked at Gavin suspiciously.
She sat down in the seat Justin had just vacated, leaned closer, and asked in a low voice:
"Why are they acting so strangely? What exactly did you do last night? And what was the accident?"
"Nothing happened." Gavin pushed a glass of warm milk toward her. "Just sleeping."
Cordelia didn't touch the glass; her silver-grey eyes were fixed on his face.
"Real?"
"Real."
Gavin somewhat amusing and explained to her the reason for the three of them acting strangely.
"Oh."
Cordelia immediately felt relieved and patted her chest.
"That scared me to death! I thought—"
"What else did you think?" Gavin shook his head with a smile. "Would I pull back the bed curtains in the middle of the night, de- Transfiguration, and dance for the three of them?"
Upon hearing this, an image involuntarily flashed through Cordelia's mind.
Gavin, who looked like a girl with long, straight black hair, stood in the center of the dormitory and spun around halfway. Justin and Rolf sat on the edge of the bed clapping, while Ernie was still seriously counting the beats.
As she thought about it, she slowly pouted her lips.
Why should she? She hasn't even seen it yet.
You didn't even let me skip this one.
"..."
Gavin stopped holding the bowl, looking at her speechlessly.
"I didn't actually jump; it was just an example."
"Is that so?"
Cordelia blinked, seemingly a little disappointed.
"Oh, okay then..."
She finally picked up the glass of milk, lowered her head, and took a sip.
Gavin looked at her and couldn't help but want to roll his eyes.
What exactly are you regretting?
Cordelia put down her milk glass, still feeling uneasy. She was about to give him a few more words of advice, suggesting he simply go back to the Room of Requirement on the Seventh Floor to sleep tonight.
Fluttering--
A sudden burst of rapid wingbeats came from above the Great Hall's towering dome.
Hundreds of Owls flew through the ceiling painted with blue sky and white clouds, bringing the cool morning air into the Great Hall.
One of the familiar greywood owls swooped down and landed precisely next to Gavin's plate, extending its right leg, which was bound with a bamboo tube.
Cordelia stopped herself from speaking and tilted her head curiously:
Who sent you the letter?
As Gavin fed the greywood owl half a bacon, he took off the envelope and glanced at the University of Oxford header:
"Professor Roscoe's."
"Professor Roscoe?"
Cordelia blinked her silver-gray eyes and quickly recognized the name:
"Oh, that bald Muggle professor from your other school?"
Gavin paused for a moment as he opened the letter:
"... Can't you remember some of his good points?"
"Got it!"
Cordelia was perfectly justified:
"His head is quite shiny!"
"..."
Cordelia tilted her head, somewhat puzzled:
"Don't Muggles even have hair-growth medicine?"
Gavin thought about it and realized that this was probably not the case.
Otherwise, Prince William would have used it long ago.
However, he found it difficult to explain to this Pure-blood young lady of the wizarding world, and could only give a simple answer:
"You don't understand. In the computer science department, having less hair is a sign of strength."
Is that so?
Cordelia tilted her head, looking at Gavin's head with a puzzled expression.
So, even her boyfriend can teach at that school now.
Could he actually be bald too?
Gavin had no idea what Cordelia was thinking. He pulled out the letter, glanced at it for just two lines, and then his eye twitched.
The entire sheet of letter was almost entirely filled with roars typed in bold font.
When asked what kind of crazy project he was working on, and why someone studying computer science would suddenly need to purchase high-purity "Heavy Water," he replied...
In his letter, the professor angrily berated Gavin.
Ask him if he knows that this thing is a strategic material that is strictly controlled by the nuclear industry, and there isn't a single production line for it in the entire United Kingdom!
If a computer science professor were to submit a report to apply for a purchase...
He could very well be treated as a terrorist and handed over to MI5 by University of Oxford's Equipment Security Committee.
Then, he launched into a long, rambling complaint.
It has to be said that typing on a keyboard is much more efficient; no wonder he suddenly stopped writing letters by hand.
Despite his harsh criticism, Professor Roscoe concluded his letter with a final, vehement statement—
Despite all these difficulties, you spoke up.
So he has reluctantly joined forces with acquaintances in the physics department to submit a multinational research procurement application to United States supplier, and there should be a result soon.
At the same time, tell Gavin to behave himself lately and stop giving him any more jobs that could land him on Interpol's list.
"The teacher still has so many connections."
Gavin smiled slightly, folded the letter, and put it in his pocket.
Cordelia, who was standing nearby, also came over and read the letter, then looked up curiously:
What is Heavy Water?
"Literal meaning," Gavin, picking up the bowl of porridge, "Is just heavier water."
Cordelia narrowed her eyes suspiciously, staring at his face:
Really? It's just heavy water?
She held up a finger, reminding her:
"You remember that 500-page Contract, don't you? You can't lie to me now."
I'm not kidding you.
Gavin spoke with complete candor, and everything he said was true.
After all, Deuterium Oxide is physically about 11% heavier than ordinary water.
"It really is just water with heavier molecules. I brought some back to put in the Golden Cup for practicing new magic."
Cordelia looked at him with suspicion, feeling that something that could make a Muggle professor write a whole page of insults couldn't be that simple. She opened her mouth, about to ask another question:
"Then why United Kingdom-- "
"Gavin!"
An urgent voice suddenly came from the other end of the Long Table.
Cedric Diggory, a roll of Parchment tucked under his arm, strode across the aisle to Gavin, his face beaming with the joy of finding a savior. He casually reached out to sling his arm over Gavin's shoulder.
"Finally found you--"
Snap!
Cedric's hand could even touch Gavin's wizard robe, a small, fair hand suddenly reached out from the side and slapped his hand without any politeness.
The sound was quite crisp.
Cedric's hand was slapped away, and he froze on the spot.
Cordelia withdrew her hand, casually pulling Gavin's arm into her lap, then tilted her cool, pretty face up, staring at the fifth-year student with unfriendly eyes:
"That's rude. Show some respect to women, Gavin."
Cedric held his right hand in mid-air, blinked, and looked completely bewildered.
He looked down at his reddened hand, then at Cordelia, whose face was full of wariness and protectiveness, and a look of bewilderment crossed his face.
No, Gavin and I have been inseparable for almost two years, why is he suddenly being disrespectful today?
Just as Cedric stood in the middle of the aisle, still wondering what taboo he had broken, Gavin swallowed the toast in his mouth and spoke up to defuse the situation:
What do you want?
Cedric then suddenly came to his senses.
He no longer cared about the back of his hand, and plopped down in the empty seat Ernie had left on the other side of Gavin, saying eagerly:
"Quidditch, of course! The schedule's already posted, and the game's about to start!"
Gavin raised an eyebrow:
"So what?"
"So we're in big trouble. The other three academies have all upgraded their equipment!"
"All?"
Gavin frowned.
Where is the budget cap I set?
Upon hearing this, Cedric's face fell, his tone filled with grief and indignation:
"Professor McGonagall pushed it up a lot! The application submitted jointly by Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw was approved by Professor McGonagall without a day's delay—it was signed and approved that very afternoon—"
"The remaining amount is just enough to add a Firebolt to the match lineup!"
"..."
Gavin paused for a moment, his hand holding the bowl of porridge still.
I almost forgot about that.
He had been so focused on the fact that the three houses would jointly apply for an increase in quotas that he forgot that Cat Professor, who held the power of approval, was Hogwarts' number Quidditch fanatic.
Gryffindor, but this year they finally got a top-tier Firebolt from the sky.
Professor McGonagall's decision not to personally help Wood fill out the application form was already a sign that she upheld her principles.
"But the method you taught us before also worked."
Cedric quickly added:
"We've also submitted an application to lift your coaching restrictions. As long as you don't referee Hufflepuff matches, Professor McGonagall has officially approved you to be our tactical advisor."
After saying this, Cedric sighed heavily, slammed the roll of Parchment onto the table, and looked bitter.
"But the equipment of the other houses is just too terrifying. Slytherin and Gryffindor have Firebolts, Ravenclaw is even more ruthless, having collected a full seven Nimbus 2000s."
Gavin glanced down at the copy of the budget application on the Parchment.
In the Ravenclaw section, besides Cho Chang's Nimbus 2000, there were forty or fifty rows of fragmented entries below.
[Used ash wood main stem (without tail branch) x 6]
[6 bundles of birch branches (loose) used for retired training brooms]
[6 old Magic Rune rings from disassembled vehicles]
[...]
Gavin raised an eyebrow and pointed to the list with his finger:
"Did they empty out the junkyard in Diagon Alley?"
"That's why they suddenly agreed to jointly increase the budget the day before yesterday!"
Cedric frowned and reached out to press down on the list of spare parts:
"A few of Ravenclaw's top Alchemy, taking advantage of this year's new model, went to the secondhand market and scoured a huge number of original parts salvaged from accident-damaged Broomstick, and managed to assemble five Nimbus 2000s themselves in the tower!"
"Ah?"
Cordelia, who was fiercely protective of her child, also glanced sideways, looking over incredulously.
"The most brilliant part is when they present the budget."
Cedric sighed, his voice filled with a deep sense of helplessness:
"Because it was assembled from individual parts, without a serial number for the complete broom, they insisted that the budget cap could only record the price of the parts. Professor McGonagall checked the rules for a long time, and in the end, she actually approved it as a repair spare parts— Nimbus 2000, and the submitted budget was only equivalent to one and a half brooms!"
Gavin stared at the application form filled with "parts" and remained silent for two seconds.
This was originally a backdoor he had left for himself.
I didn't expect them to find out.
Those Ravenclaw guys are really wasting their talents if they weren't doing tax planning at Gringotts.
"Those upperclassmen in Ravenclaw are walking around with their noses practically in the air."
Cedric was still complaining.
"Well, thinking about it, it makes sense. After all, the flying Broomstick is the jewel in the Crown Alchemy. No one at school has ever managed to assemble a top-tier Broomstick from individual parts."
Gavin frowned slightly as he looked at the list of salvaged parts from different years:
"The Magic Rune circuits inside the old parts from different batches don't match at all. Forcing them together and sending them flying would only cause them to fall apart. How did they manage to do that?"
"That's exactly what they're most proud of."
Cedric lowered his voice:
"I heard that some of the older students found half a copy of Lucien Valéry's early manuscript at a used bookstore in Knockturn Alley."
"Ah?"
Gavin was stunned, his hand holding the bowl of porridge freezing in place.
"Who did you say...?"
Seeing his reaction, Cedric assumed Gavin had never heard of the name before.
So he moved closer to Gavin and asked with a tone of enthusiasm, as if explaining something to a layman:
You still don't know who Lucien Valéry is, do you?
Gavin: "..."
Is it really him?
The image slowly surfaced in my mind of the seventy-year-old France man in the three-story Azkaban West Tower prison, who had mastered even the art of using chopsticks to the point of perfection for half a plate of Candied Potatoes and a potato pancake the size of a thumb.
Seeing Gavin's strange silence, Cedric became even more certain of his guess, and solemnly raised a finger:
"He's the mentor of the genius designer Randolph Spudmer!"
"... Randolph Spudmer?"
Gavin looked at him strangely.
Who is this?
"He's the chief designer of this year's Firebolt!"
Cedric recounted the version he had heard with a respectful expression:
"My dad's colleague at the Ministry of Magic mentioned that twenty years ago, a France Alchemy named Lucien went mad and insisted on building a killer flying machine that would blow people and their Broomstick to pieces in the sky."
"Mr Spudmore, who was still an apprentice at the time, tried to dissuade his master to no avail. For the sake of the lives of all the pilots in the Wizarding World, he had no choice but to tearfully and selflessly report his master to the Aircraft Management Bureau!"
Gavin: "..."
Cedric, completely oblivious to the subtle expression on his junior's face, continued to sigh:
"Later, that madman did indeed break into the Ministry of Magic at night, blowing up half of the Bureau's office building, and was sentenced to forty years in Azkaban."
"It is also thanks to Mr Spudmore who preserved the early sketches and spent twenty years meticulously improving and eliminating potential problems that we have the perfect Firebolt we have today..."
"Even if Ravenclaw only obtained a few scraps of his master's early manuscripts, he was already able to piece together six piles of disparate parts into the Nimbus 2000."
"It's clear that Master Lucien was quite skilled; it's just that he had some mental issues, which is a pity."
There was a full three seconds of silence around the dining table.
Gavin lowered his head expressionlessly and took a sip of his oatmeal porridge.
So that's how it is.
What a saga of "sacrificing family for the pilot's life with tears in his eyes."
What a fine example of "whistleblowing for justice"!
Back in Azkaban, the old France only ever cursed the Ministry of Magic for messing up his circuits, never mentioning his apprentice at all.
It turns out that the old man had been in jail for a full twenty years.
To this day, I still think it was all because I was too arrogant back then, and I have no idea that I was stabbed in the back by my most trusted and filial apprentice.
That's incredibly filial.
That good apprentice has now not only become the "Father of the Firebolt" by relying on his master's emasculated blueprints, but he has also erected a memorial arch for himself and plated it with pure gold.
Gavin put down his bowl of porridge, glanced at the list on the Parchment, and casually asked:
"They sound like they have a huge advantage, so what do you have to compete with them on?"
Cedric was silent for two seconds.
We have --
Then, the newly appointed captain of Hufflepuff slowly straightened his chest, looked into Gavin's eyes, and spoke in a deep and firm voice:
"Exceeding the efforts of others!"
Gavin stared at him expressionlessly for three seconds:
"That means there's nothing there."
"Puff--"
Cordelia, who had been keeping a straight face, immediately broke down upon hearing this.
She tried to purse her lips and maintain her ladylike image, but her shoulders started shaking violently. In the end, she buried her face in Gavin's shoulder and laughed so hard she couldn't stand up straight.
Cedric sat beside them, looking at them with a resentful expression.
After practicing so hard for so long, I finally managed to take down Slytherin's Seeker.
They relied on being poor.
After Cordelia finished laughing, the captain looked at Gavin with a pitiful Gavin:
"Gavin, stop making sarcastic remarks at a time like this... Besides, our opening game of the year is against Gryffindor."
"The first match?"
Gavin paused for a moment, his brows furrowing slightly.
"Shouldn't the opening match be Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, as is customary?"
Cedric glanced at Cordelia beside him, seemingly wanting to say something, and whispered:
"They were supposed to do it. But Flint went to Madam Hooch the day before yesterday to ask for a change of order, the reason being... Cordelia spent three weeks at the Hospital Wing because of you, and her body is too exhausted and she needs to rest, so we Hufflepuffs will take her place."
Gavin blinked, his expression suddenly becoming very strange.
Fate can be quite persistent sometimes.
In the original story, Malfoy postponed the match because his arm was scratched by Buckbeak, and he used the excuse that his injury hadn't healed.
Cordelia is currently the Seeker, so theoretically this shouldn't be happening.
As a result, Slytherin actually used Cordelia as a shield, and after all the twists and turns, they still managed to push Hufflepuff into the first match?
Cordelia, standing nearby, had already stopped laughing.
She raised her hand to tidy her long hair behind her ear and shrugged.
"It has nothing to do with me. Flint saw that Harry also got the Firebolt and wanted to practice tactics a little longer. I was just using that as an excuse."
Cedric rolled up the Parchment with a bitter expression, looking at Gavin with a resentful look:
"Whether it's an excuse or not, the schedule can't be changed. We have to get past Gryffindor first before we can—"
"Etc."
Gavin raised his right hand, interrupting his grand plan, and asked with a serious expression:
"Then why should I help you win against my girlfriend?"
He's busy cultivating.
It's better to avoid trouble.
Quidditch and such are nothing compared to "yin-yang dual cultivation" or "lighting the sun to boil water."
Cedric gasped, his face filled with disbelief:
"Aren't you Hufflepuff? Aren't we from the same house?"
Gavin leaned back in his chair, speaking with an air of self-righteousness:
"Precisely because I am Hufflepuff, I don't have the determination to win. Like the Headmaster, I just want you all to be safe and sound."
Professor Sprout's rallying cry was always --
Winning or losing doesn't matter, as long as you're safe and sound.
Cedric choked on his breath and froze on the spot.
He opened his mouth, but remained silent for a full three seconds.
Seeing that Gavin had already picked up Napkin to wipe his mouth and leave, Cedric had a sudden inspiration, and his eyes lit up:
"But you promised us that yourself at the Great Hall entrance!"
Cedric pressed down on the edge of the table, speaking with righteous indignation:
"Shouldn't Hufflepuff's qualities also include loyalty and trustworthiness?"
Gavin stopped wiping his mouth.
"..."
I was careless.
Last time, I was so busy rushing to class at the Great Hall entrance that I almost forgot I said, "Even if the other side is full of Firebolt, I still have a way to make you win."
Meeting Cedric's honest eyes, Gavin remained silent for a moment, then finally sighed and placed the Napkin back on the table.
"Okay, I promise."
Cedric was overjoyed, fearing that he might come up with some other maxim to change his mind, so he immediately stood up.
He meant to pat Gavin on the shoulder, but as soon as he reached out, Cordelia glared at him.
So he could only chuckle awkwardly and withdraw his hand, saying at the same time:
"It's settled then! The meeting will be at 7 PM tonight in the fourth classroom on the Third Floor Corridor. See you there!"
During the daytime break, Gavin completed the drug's alternation and white vortex retraction as usual at nine o'clock in the morning.
As for the curfew originally scheduled for the evening—
Lupin was clearly easier to talk to Snape; upon hearing that Gavin was going to attend Quidditch meeting, he considerately changed the time.
This can be considered a small Fawley for Gavin's hard work as a teaching assistant.
It was exactly 7 PM in the Third Floor Corridor.
Gavin walked to the door of the fourth Empty Classroom and pushed it open.
The classroom was brightly lit, and several long desks had been pushed together in the center.
Cedric and the other six key players from the Hufflepuff team were already waiting inside.
Hearing the door open, the previously dejected team members perked up and stood up in unison to applaud:
"Gu is here! Please come in quickly--"
The applause had barely started twice when it suddenly and eerily stopped.
All eyes went past Gavin's shoulder and landed behind him.
Cordelia followed half a step behind Gavin with a blank expression.
She stepped across the threshold and walked in without any hesitation, showing no embarrassment whatsoever, and even closed the classroom door behind her.
Wearing Slytherin Robes with silver-green trim, he stood out extremely among the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team.
The classroom was completely silent.
Cedric's smile froze. He quickly stepped forward and stood in front of the table, looking at her with a troubled expression.
"Um... Rowle, this is Hufflepuff meeting."
The implication is that it's a bit inappropriate for Seeker from the opposing team to just swagger in and listen in like that.
But to my surprise, Cordelia didn't even lift an eyelid.
She reached out and took Gavin's right arm, pulling him half an inch closer to her, as if cherishing a precious treasure. She then looked up, coldly meeting Cedric's gaze.
"I need to protect her now--"
She paused almost imperceptibly, then emphasized the last syllable without changing her expression:
"--he!"
Cedric was both amused and exasperated.
"These are all Hufflepuff's classmates. We're having a meeting in the classroom. Who can bully him then?"
That won't work either.
Cordelia refused to budge an inch.
"He was just discharged from the hospital three days ago, and our Contract states that he cannot leave my sight before 8 p. m."
The two remained locked in a stalemate at the doorway, neither willing to give in.
Gavin rubbed his temples helplessly, took a step forward, and patted Cedric's arm:
"Let her in."
Cedric lowered his voice, his face filled with anxiety: "But our tactics—"
While Cordelia turned her head to look at the classroom seats, Gavin winked at Cedric behind her back.
He raised his left hand, first pointing to his temple with his index finger, then gently waving his hand, and finally pointing to himself, adding in a low voice:
"Do you understand?"
Gavin's meaning is very simple:
She's my person, she would never leak what happened tonight.
However, Cedric, staring intently at Gavin's gesture of "pointing to the head, waving his hand, and then pointing to himself," was momentarily stunned.
The next second, Cedric's eyes suddenly lit up.
The wariness on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a complex expression of sudden realization, even mixed with a touch of sympathy and admiration.
He understood!
Gavin's meaning is --
It turns out that Cordelia, who usually seems so capable, is actually quite stupid. She can't understand their tactics at all, and even if she did, it wouldn't be of any use.
Cedric nodded emphatically to Gavin, his face full of kindness:
"I see, brother, thank you for your hard work. Don't worry, we'll try to keep things simple later, so she doesn't feel excluded."
Gavin: "...?"
What did you interpret it as?
Seeing Cedric turn around with a sincere expression to ask his teammates to make room for him, Gavin opened his mouth, but for once, he was speechless.
Was that what he meant?
Before Gavin could even correct him, Cordelia had already pulled him by the sleeve and led him to the Long Table to sit down.
After taking their seats, the girl remained mindful of her mission to "protect her younger sister," clinging tightly to Gavin's arm, her silver-gray eyes warily scanning the male team members around them.
Sitting next to Gavin, the Chaser Malcolm had intended to offer Gavin a glass of water as a friendly gesture to get closer to him.
As a result, just as he picked up the kettle and met Cordelia's cold gaze, his wrist trembled, and he could only silently pour the water into his own cup.
Once everyone was seated, the atmosphere in the classroom quickly became heavy again.
"Gavin, to be honest, we really have absolutely no confidence this time."
Chaser Tamsin sighed, burying his face in his hands on the table, his expression one of utter despair.
"Gryffindor had a private training session this afternoon, and a few of us sneaked up to the top of the stands and watched for half an hour... They simply couldn't win; the speed difference was too great."
The Beater next to him smiled wryly and continued the conversation:
"It wasn't just Big Wood's whistle that made us think someone in the stands had fired a red flare. By the time we realized what was happening, Harry was already riding that Firebolt, flying from one end of the pitch to the other, and stopping by the goalpost to wipe his glasses."
"Why--"
A suppressed sigh filled the classroom.
"I later tried to fly alongside it from outside the stadium for a while."
Cedric looked down at his hands resting on his knees, his voice slightly hoarse:
"I pushed my Nimbus 2000 to its maximum dive angle. But if he just accelerates slightly ahead, he can leave me five body lengths behind in less than three seconds."
"It's not just about the Seeker."
Malcolm looked dejected.
"The seven Nimbus 2000s from Ravenclaw were also test-flown this morning. The six they assembled from parts flew exactly like the originals. Our Cleansweep Seven and Old Comet were far behind in straight-line acceleration, and couldn't even get a good intercept position."
The seven team members spoke in increasingly softer voices, until finally they all lowered their heads.
The so-called "efforts to surpass others" are so fragile in the face of an absolute technological gap in equipment that they cannot even be pierced by a piece of Parchment.
A suffocating silence fell Long Table.
In this despairing silence, Cedric took a deep breath, slowly raised his head, and cast his last hope at Gavin sitting opposite him:
"Gavin, what's your plan? You can use it now, right?"
Swish.
In the entire classroom, seven pairs of eyes were fixed intently on Gavin at the same time.
Even Cordelia, who was standing next to him, turned her head curiously to look at his profile.
Gavin met everyone's gazes and nodded calmly.
He didn't pull out any Parchment covered with tactical diagrams; instead, he bent down slightly and reached into a bag under the table.
Immediately afterwards, he picked up something he had prepared beforehand and casually tossed it into the center of the Long Table.
Clang!
A muffled thud, like wood falling apart, echoed in the quiet classroom, kicking up a small cloud of Dust.
Everyone's pupils contracted simultaneously, and their gazes fixed on the center of the table.
On the large Wooden Table lay a tattered flying Broomstick.
The varnish on the handle had long since worn away, revealing the dark wood grain underneath. A line of faded, white old lettering was imprinted at the end of the grip.
[Cleansweep Seven]
As for the birch branch at the very end of the Broomstick, it was tragically tilted to the left at an angle of more than ten degrees, with several forked, withered branches sticking out in mid-air.
The classroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Cedric stared blankly at the broken Broomstick on the table, a broom that even first-year students would disdain, his mind completely blank.
The other six team members looked at each other in disbelief, their breaths even stopping.
Gavin patted a Dust off his palms, leaned back in his chair, and said in a flat tone:
"This is my method."