17: I Want to Go Home

Boom!

A deafening explosion echoed through the Slytherin common room, startling all the young wizards. By the time they recovered their senses, Malcolm Baddock was no longer standing—he had been blasted across the room by Nolan Von Draugr with a flick of his wand. Malcolm's body hit the wall, embedding into it briefly before sliding down like a discarded rag doll.

A soft puff of smoke billowed out as Malcolm's form disappeared, replaced by a twitching toad lying on the cold stone floor.

"Merlin's beard, that's so cool! Nolan, how did you do that? You turned someone into a toad!" Miles Bletchley exclaimed excitedly as he rushed over, practically beaming. Being a half-blood himself, Miles felt proud of Nolan's actions. In Slytherin, where pure-blood status reigned supreme, the half-bloods naturally stuck together.

Nolan shrugged, casually spinning a plausible lie. "Professor McGonagall kept me back during lunch and taught me a few advanced spells."

But no one cheered for his accomplishment. Instead, a heavy silence settled over the room as the Slytherin first-years exchanged uneasy glances, their gazes flicking between Nolan and Eve.

A Muggle-born... Eve's background was an anomaly in Slytherin. It was unusual—so unusual that no one could ignore it.

And Nolan? Well, no matter how exceptional he was or how much the girls admired him, the fact remained: he had just blasted a pure-blood wizard across the room and transformed him into a hopping toad. His bold defense of a Muggle-born witch left the other Slytherins unsure how to react.

"Not good, mate," Miles leaned in and whispered into Nolan's ear. "I think we're in trouble. You shouldn't have helped your little girlfriend—at least not so… publicly."

Before Miles could finish his warning, the common room door burst open with a resounding bang.

A greasy-haired, hook-nosed man swept into the room, his black robes billowing behind him. Professor Snape's sharp, hawk-like eyes scanned the room, gliding over the nervous students before finally landing on the twitching toad.

"Reverto!" Snape intoned sharply, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

The toad expanded and morphed back into Malcolm Baddock, who immediately shot a fearful look at Nolan before turning to Snape and launching into a tirade. "Professor Snape! There's a spy in Slytherin! She must have used dark magic to sneak in because Slytherin would never choose a filthy Mud—"

Boom!

Malcolm didn't get to finish his sentence. With another loud pop, he was once again reduced to a toad.

Snape's eyes widened in disbelief as he turned to Nolan, whose expression was one of mild irritation. "Professor Snape," Nolan said, his voice low and steady, "please refrain from undoing my magic. Where I come from, that's considered a declaration of war. We respond to such declarations by killing our opponents, skinning them, and turning them into werewolf specimens to hang on crosses. Would you like to test that, sir?"

Snape's lips twitched, his face an unreadable mask as he replied, his tone icy and firm. "Mr. Von Draugr, may I inquire how long you intend for Mr. Baddock to remain a toad? Or do you plan to bring him to class in that form?"

Nolan tilted his head, pretending to consider the question seriously. Then, in a quieter tone, he said, "That's actually a good idea. Miles, make a note of it. Get a tank ready—we'll keep him as a pet. I've never owned a wizard-turned-toad before."

Snape left the Slytherin common room after Nolan Von Draugr asked a question that might have secretly lingered in the minds of all Hogwarts students:

"Professor Snape, why don't you wash your hair?"

It was a well-known fact that Professor Snape's hair was perpetually greasy, slick enough that even tired pixies couldn't land on it without sliding off. Nolan often wondered how long Snape went between washes and when he might decide to bathe, but he simply couldn't bear being lectured by an unkempt, greasy-haired middle-aged wizard. As far as Nolan was concerned, vampires were inherently superior to wizards, and the only person at this school who had the right to lecture him was perhaps Professor Dumbledore.

So Snape left, his face an icy mask of fury, exuding a dark, oppressive aura. Rumor had it that the next day, during Potions class, Snape frightened a first-year Hufflepuff so badly that the poor student wet their robes right there in the classroom.

Naturally, it was Ashley Thatcher who relayed this piece of gossip to Nolan later that night in the library.

"I think I'm in love with Charms class!" Ashley gushed, sitting beside Nolan and chattering away like an excited magpie. "Professor Flitwick is such an amazing wizard! I mean, he must've poured all the genes meant for growing tall straight into his brain to become so brilliant and clever!"

Nolan, too preoccupied with a game where he role-played as a green-capped hero, merely grunted in response. "Compared to Professor Flitwick, your Slytherin head of house, Professor Snape, is absolutely dreadful. I've never seen someone so… unhygienic!" Ashley added with dramatic flair.

Without looking up, Nolan replied lazily, "You know, a few thousand years ago, wizards were all filthy. They lived in swamps, spent their days hunched over cauldrons brewing potions, and ate rotting meat. Their beds were crawling with fly eggs and spiderlings."

Ashley clapped her hands over her mouth in horror. "Oh my gosh, why?!"

"Because back then, wizards thought bathing was a Muggle thing. Being dirty was their way of showing how superior they were. That's why someone eventually invented the best spell of all time—Scourgify."

"Hmm. And you hate Malcolm Baddock," Ashley teased, taking a break from her pile of Potions homework. "The whole school's talking about how you turned him into a toad and stuck him in a glass tank with Felicia's pet turtle."

Nolan replied softly, "I don't hate him."

"Then you must be in love with Eve Stock to go that far!" Ashley pouted, her voice tinged with jealousy. "She's a sweet and charming girl, after all. She's shy too, and boys always want to show off in front of girls who seem helpless! Nolan, do you think I'm too bold, not afraid of anything? But this morning, I saw a spider the size of a pumpkin carriage near the Forbidden Forest, and I was terrified!"

Without missing a beat, Nolan asked, "What were you doing near the edge of the Forbidden Forest?"

"I was exploring Hogwarts!" Ashley whispered, lowering her voice after being shushed for the fourth time by Madam Pince. "I want to figure out where all those strange staircases lead before second year!"

It was clear that Ashley was a true Ravenclaw brimming with curiosity. If she hadn't been so clever, Nolan figured the Sorting Hat might have placed her in Gryffindor.

Eve Stock, on the other hand, was the exact opposite.

"Eve, you can't sleep in my bed."

Returning to the dormitory after feeding the toad-turned-Malcolm and Felicia's pet turtle in the common room, Nolan was greeted by the sight of Eve sitting on his bed, swinging her legs and barefoot.

Her silver hair shimmered faintly in the dim light, and her eyes were rimmed red. "Oh no, Nolan, please don't send me back! Everyone hates me. They all think a Muggle-born doesn't belong in Slytherin. I have nowhere else to go!"

Nolan thought for a moment before suggesting, "Then you can sleep in Malcolm's bed. He has… other accommodations now."

Eve stubbornly shook her head, pouting in defiance.

Among the Slytherin students who hurled insults at Eve Stock, calling her bloodline filthy, Malcolm Baddock was undoubtedly the most vicious. Eve couldn't help but harbor some resentment toward him.

Nolan Von Draugr sighed. "Eve, you're sitting on my bed. It's not right for you to push me out of my own space. Perhaps Miles would be willing to offer you his bed?"

Hearing Nolan's suggestion, Miles Bletchley eagerly nodded. While he had some reservations about Eve's Muggle-born heritage, her sheer adorableness outweighed them. If anything, Miles didn't mind the idea of a future with a charming Muggle-born girlfriend!

Eve looked between Miles and Malcolm's empty bed, her expression crestfallen. "I guess I'll just sleep in Baddock's bed then…"

Later that night, the female prefect showed up with Alicia, hoping to persuade Eve to return to the girls' dormitory. However, Eve wouldn't stop crying. Alicia mentioned that Eve had been subjected to some rather cruel treatment in the girls' dorm, leaving them no choice but to let her stay. After all, they were still young, and mixed sleeping arrangements at this age weren't a big concern.

Privately, Miles thought that Malcolm's current plight seemed no better than Eve's.

By midnight, Miles had fallen fast asleep. Nolan, meanwhile, was awake, using his wand to light his gaming device with a soft Lumos.

Suddenly, the sound of fabric rustling reached his ears, followed by the sensation of someone small and warm slipping under his covers.

Sheila, the white snake coiled beside his pillow, flinched at the unexpected intrusion and quietly slithered onto Nolan's wrist, curling up to continue her rest.

Nolan turned to see the face of his uninvited guest. "Eve?"

The silver-haired girl was completely bundled in his blanket, save for a single hand clutching the edge of his shirt as if the fabric could offer her some form of safety.

In her sleep, Eve murmured softly, her words fragile and faint. "Brother… Mom… I want to go home…"

…

Friday, the third day of term.

The Gryffindor first-years were abuzz with excitement, eagerly awaiting their first-ever Potions class.

They were particularly thrilled at the prospect of seeing the infamous Slytherin "monster," Nolan Von Draugr, face off against Professor Severus Snape. Would Snape deduct house points from his own student? If so, how many? And would Nolan, if treated unfairly, find some ingenious way to retaliate?

For the average student, whose days were rather uneventful, such drama was nothing short of captivating.

However, once Potions class began, the reality was anticlimactic.

Nolan and Snape behaved as though the other didn't exist. Nolan quietly focused on his work, while Snape threw himself into his usual routine—viciously mocking the Gryffindors like a rabid dog.

Both were too preoccupied to spar.

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