A Potions class full of sarcastic remarks left the young wizards exhausted in body and mind.
During the lesson, Neville and Seamus even managed to make their Boil Cure Potion explode, catching quite a few innocent bystanders in the blast.
Snape looked utterly exasperated.
"Tsk, you are the worst year of students I have ever taught!"
"Hand in five inches on the Boil Cure Potion next lesson. Class dismissed!"
After class, Shawn already had a "plan" in mind, so he told Draco and the others to go ahead to the Great Hall for lunch.
Once everyone had left, he began searching the classroom's storage cupboards for old books.
After rummaging around, he finally found a battered textbook filled with densely scrawled notes on improving potion brewing.
The textbook's owner had even given himself a rather pretentious name: the Half-Blood Prince.
After all, what boy or girl had never indulged in fantasies?
Shawn likewise wanted to sit upon the Magic Throne and reign over the world.
"Tsk, who knew Professor Snape had such neat handwriting?"
Shawn casually flipped through it. Once he confirmed that it contained "Sectumsempra" and several minor jinxes, he put the textbook into the Ring, thoroughly satisfied.
As he walked toward the Great Hall, he refined his plan to "set Harry up."
Since he had helped himself to someone else's goodies, he decided to do the job properly.
The more he thought about it, the more he felt this could serve as a preliminary mission for "setting Voldemort up." It was simply perfect.
It might even give him a major boost in progress on [Conquer Hogwarts (Stage Two)] along the way.
Shawn increasingly felt he had the makings of a schemer.
"I'm a genius!"
Afterward, Shawn returned to the Great Hall to eat and supervise evening study. Sitting on the High Table, he began learning Snape's original spells, "Sectumsempra" and "Levicorpus."
He was deeply impressed by Snape's talent and ingenuity.
And his own Azkaban dark magic talent certainly lived up to its reputation.
Before evening study ended, the system had already judged him to have successfully learned both spells, without his even needing to cast them.
After giving the young snakes some encouragement, he returned to the Dormitory and called Draco over at once.
"I'm going to teach you a new spell tonight."
Draco looked baffled.
"But I haven't mastered Petrificus Totalus yet."
Shawn gave Draco's shoulder a meaningful pat.
"That can wait. Today, I'm teaching you an interesting spell."
"Fine. You're stronger, so you call the shots."
Shawn spent an hour explaining "Levicorpus" to Draco, then sent him off to practice on his own.
The night passed without incident.
The next morning, in the Great Hall.
Students from the other three houses watched Shawn's daily performance of burning Howlers.
The Twins, who loved pranks and showing off more than anyone, turned to an athletic beauty from their house.
"Angelina, did you notice? Shawn only got five Howlers today."
"So before long, I won't get to watch Shawn looking all handsome and cool anymore."
"Angelina, that's a strange thing to focus on."
"What's strange about it? Isn't a refined, elegant young fellow easy on the eyes? If only he were in our house."
"Uh, let's not. I don't want morning and evening study sessions."
At the High Table, Professor McGonagall was also watching Shawn's performance as she ate breakfast.
Professors all had dedicated house-elves to serve them and could choose to dine in their offices.
As a result, the other professors did not often appear at the High Table for meals.
Professor McGonagall was an exception. As Deputy Headmistress, she had to manage the whole school, so she frequently appeared in the Great Hall.
Oh, and there was also Professor Snape, who came and went like a ghost.
McGonagall watched the Slytherin students eating elegantly and in perfect order, then looked at the scene of enthusiastic feasting at her own house's table.
She turned to the impassive Snape and asked enviously.
"Severus, your house has such a wonderful atmosphere now. You chose an excellent chief."
The corner of Snape's mouth twitched as he suppressed a smug smile.
"It's nothing special."
McGonagall's mouth twitched too. She felt Snape was humblebragging, then sighed.
"Ah, are lions not allowed to be elegant?"
That morning, the Slytherin first-years had History of Magic.
The professor for this subject was a ghost named Binns. He had died on the job, and even after becoming a spirit, he remained devoted to his work. Legend had it that he had been teaching History of Magic at Hogwarts for nearly a thousand years.
In class, Professor Binns droned on in a monotonous voice. Whether the students listened was none of the old professor's concern.
Most students used the lesson to catch up on sleep.
Grades in this subject depended entirely on self-discipline.
Even Shawn, who forced himself to stay alert and listen attentively, soon admitted defeat.
Even this sovereign truly cannot manage it!
The young snakes around Shawn had long since succumbed to Professor Binns's hypnotic voice. When they saw Shawn start doing other things, they followed suit.
After the bell rang, Professor Binns dryly assigned homework and left through the wall.
Then, that afternoon.
It was finally time for the flying class the young wizards had been eagerly awaiting.
The young snakes and lions gathered once again and promptly began trying to outboast one another.
Draco: "I've been a gifted flyer since I was little. Once, when I was flying on a broomstick, I narrowly dodged a Muggle Helicopter!"
Ron: "Ha, that's nothing. I rode my brother's old broomstick straight through a Hang Glider and smashed it!"
Seamus: "I practically grew up on a broomstick. I spent all day flying around the open countryside."
Harry: "Wow, you're all amazing. I just hope I don't fall off my broomstick later."
Along the way, Shawn quietly watched the excited boys spout all sorts of nonsense while considering what would happen shortly.
They arrived on the Lawn in front of the Castle, where dozens of battered broomsticks had already been laid out. It was hard not to wonder whether they would fall apart in midair.
Their flying instructor, Madam Hooch, was a brisk witch with short, silvery-gray hair. Once all the students had arrived, she started the lesson immediately.
There was no need to go into the details. (Otherwise, this might look like padding.)
But when Shawn gripped his broomstick, a system notification sounded.
"Ding, flying talent activated at level 3."
Shawn paused briefly, then paid it no mind. He had little interest in this barbaric sport.
Mainly, a certain team had broken his heart in his previous life, and he had stopped following major sports like these.
He then quietly waited for events to unfold.
"Ah! Ah!"
"Child, come down!"
Sure enough, what was supposed to happen still happened.
Madam Hooch had only told them to try hovering three feet above the ground, but Neville's broomstick seemed to ignore his commands and shot crookedly into the sky.
Neville's little face turned deathly pale as he flew wildly overhead, completely unable to control his broomstick.
Shawn clenched his fists, suppressing the urge to rescue him.
Instead, he coldly said to Harry.
"Harry, are you going to watch your friend fall to his death? Fly up and save him!"
Harry was sitting on his broomstick three feet above the ground, looking up anxiously.
Shawn's words stunned him. He was just about to ask Shawn to help when Neville's broomstick struck the Castle. Neville fell, caught on a projecting corner of the eaves, and looked about to tumble off.
With no time to think, Harry gripped the wooden handle and flew straight off on his broomstick.
Air whipped through his hair, and his robes streamed behind him. Amid everyone's startled cries, Harry rapidly closed in on Neville, who hung in midair.
The corner of the roof supporting Neville snapped, and Neville began to fall. Harry, who had intended to slow down as he approached, gritted his teeth and urged his broomstick to fly even faster.
At the last possible instant, he scooped Neville up and made an emergency turn to avoid crashing into the Castle Wall. His flying talent was truly outstanding.
When Harry returned to the Lawn with a tearful Neville, the young lions naturally greeted him with enthusiastic cheers.
Shawn watched coldly from the sidelines and spoke quietly to Draco, who stood beside him looking envious.
"Jealous, aren't you?"
Draco nodded, then shook his head, saying something he did not mean.
"It's-it's all right, I suppose. It is Harry, after all."
Shawn pointed at Professor McGonagall, who was striding out of the Castle.
"The part that will make you even more jealous is still to come."
When Professor McGonagall came over to take Harry away, she also noticed the unruly huddle of young lions and the composed young snakes.
She pursed her lips, hesitated, then called to Shawn.
"Shawn, come with me too."
Having just finished setting Harry up, Shawn had never expected to be dragged into it himself.