socalfunplaces Chapter 63 An Encounter in the Corridor
Chapter 63 An Encounter in the Corridor
Chapter 63 An Encounter in the Corridor
As Karen stepped out of the auditorium, she was stopped by a familiar voice.
"Hawthorne".
The voice was deep and silky, like black silk gliding across a cold stone slab. Karen turned and saw Professor Snape emerge from the shadows like a giant bat, his greasy black hair hanging down beside his sallow face, his dark eyes unfathomable.
"Professor." Cullen bowed cautiously, and Snape's gaze swept across his face like a knife, as if he wanted to dissect his skull and examine his thoughts directly.
"It seems our new star has learned how to manipulate situations." Snape's voice was dangerously soft.
Each word was like poison coated in honey: "Tell me, why is Eisenberg so fond of you?"
Under the bat's gaze, Karen's back began to break out in a cold sweat, but her face remained impassive. "I don't understand what you mean,"
"Professor Eisenberg is my mentor, isn't it normal for him to have high hopes for me?"
"Mentor?" Snape's lips twisted into a mocking smile, his sallow face appearing even more sinister in the dim light of the corridor. "Victor Eisenberg, who was practically isolated before coming to Hogwarts, is suddenly being so devoted to a first-year student?" He leaned down abruptly, the two so close they could smell the potions on each other. "Be careful the path you choose, Hawthorne. Some people pay a price far beyond your imagination."
"Thank you for reminding me, Professor." Although she didn't know why Snape was suddenly acting this way towards her, Cullen calmly replied, "I will keep it in mind."
Snape straightened up, his black robes billowing like dark clouds. "I hope so." With that, he strode away, leaving behind a cold silence and the lingering scent of potions.
Karen let out a long sigh and continued up to the third floor. Snape's warning had unsettled him. Had the double agent sensed something? Or was he simply hostile towards Professor Castor? Or perhaps he was still obsessed with the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? Thinking this, Karen couldn't help but smile wryly.
As he turned a corner, a portrait of a knight on the wall suddenly winked at him: "Watch your step, young conqueror."
Karen looked down and nearly stepped on a ginger cat that was dozing off—it was Mrs. Lorris. The large cat gave him a lazy, wary look, making no attempt to call out to Filch, and instead rolled over and continued purring.
"Thank you." Karen nodded to the portrait and tiptoed past Filch's "informant," feeling slightly relieved.
When he finally stood before that familiar oak door, Karen straightened his robe collar, took a deep breath, and gently knocked on the door knocker.
"Come in, Karen." Castor's deep voice penetrated the heavy wooden door, carrying a strange, soothing power.
Pushing open the door, the unique, complex scent of metallic materials wafted out. Sunlight streamed through the high window, illuminating the workbench and refracting iridescent light onto various glasswares. Castor stood by the window, his low golden ponytail shimmering like gold in the morning light, his slender fingers toying with a crystal bottle.
"Teacher," Karen bowed respectfully, taking the compensation list from her bosom. "Darendel gave me this this morning."
Castor took the parchment, his gaze quickly sweeping over its contents, a cold smile playing on his lips. "It's more substantial than expected." His fingers lightly traced the gilded Selwyn family crest on the parchment, a gesture carrying the elegant cruelty of a victor. "It seems the pure-blooded families of England are indeed wealthier than those of Germany."
He laid the parchment flat on the workbench, tapped it lightly with his wand, and several entries lit up with blue light: "Especially this set of the Ancient Runic Codex, which is said to be a unique copy brought directly from ancient ruins in Northern Europe, treasured by the Selwyn family for three centuries."
"But now we have to hand it over to someone else." His laughter was deep and cheerful, like the resonance of a cello.
"But something is still missing," Castor suddenly said, interrupting Karen's thoughts.
"What?" Karen looked up and saw a dangerous glint in her teacher's eyes.
"A public humiliation." Castor's voice was as cold as the Arctic wind. His long fingers drew an arc in the air. "The Selwyn family must publish a public apology, and Darendall himself must formally apologize to you in front of the entire school. This is not to satisfy vanity, but to establish prestige."
Karen frowned, a sense of unease creeping in: "Wouldn't this escalate the conflict?" He recalled the chilling light emanating from the Slytherin table and the hidden hatred in Selwyn's eyes.
"They will become your enemies sooner or later." Castor approached and placed his hand on Karen's shoulder, his palm warm and strong. "But don't worry about it now. These purebloods are weaker than you think, especially when they encounter someone stronger than themselves. And these methods will ensure that they think twice before they act."
Castor's grey eyes stared directly at Karen, as if trying to see into his soul. "Remember what I told you? Fear is more useful than respect."
Karen recalled Professor McGonagall's teachings from the previous night, two diametrically opposed philosophies clashing in his mind. Professor McGonagall believed in the moral responsibility of magic, while Castor championed power and authority. He remembered the precise and elegant magical control Professor McGonagall had displayed when bringing the chess pieces to life, a stark contrast to the cold and efficient methods of the teacher before him.
Ultimately, however, the logic of realism prevailed. In this dog-eat-dog magical world, idealism without the support of power was too fragile. Karen recalled the scene of being mocked by pure-blood students when she first entered the school, the forbidden books about dark magic in the library, and the seemingly innate contempt in Selwyn's eyes. "I understand, teacher." Karen finally nodded, feeling a decision taking shape in her heart. "I will demand that the Selwyn family publish an apology in the Daily Prophet and that Darendall formally apologize in front of the entire school."
Castor smiled with satisfaction, a smile that made him look much younger, his eyes gleaming with victory. "Very good, but leave the rest to me." He walked to his desk, took out a pre-written letter, and said, "This letter will be sent to the Selwyn family. If all goes well, you'll see the apology in the Daily Prophet tomorrow."
The sunlight outside the window was suddenly blocked by clouds, plunging the office into a brief period of darkness. In this alternation of light and shadow, Karen vaguely saw the teacher's silhouette overlap with a photograph on the principal's office desk—the sharp features, the arrogant posture, and the flame burning in his eyes—a flame that was both familiar and strange, both alluring and frightening.
"Any more questions?" Castor's voice brought him back to reality.
Cullen hesitated for a moment, Snape's warning echoing in her mind again: "Professor Snape just—warned me to be careful of you."
Castor's expression instantly turned cold, as if the temperature in the entire room had dropped several degrees: "Severus Snape." He uttered the name slowly, as if tasting some kind of poison, "a man living in repentance, a pathetic wretch bound by the past." He suddenly turned around, his robes drawing a sharp arc, "Ignore his warning, Karen, true power never comes from self-imposed limitations."
Karen nodded thoughtfully. Just then, the office bell rang, its melodious sound echoing through the room like some kind of omens.
"Alright, Karen, you should go to class now." Castor's tone returned to calm, but his eyes still flashed with that dangerous light.
As Karen stepped out of the office, sunlight pierced through the clouds once more, illuminating the corridor. He took a deep breath, feeling an unprecedented surge of power coursing through his veins—not a surge of magic, but a deeper awakening about identity and status.
Whatever awaits him ahead, at least for now, he is no longer the Muggle-born freshman who can be looked down upon by purebloods. The Selwyn family's submission is just the beginning, and Hogwarts will witness his rise.