Hogwarts: Third Dark Lord

Kirk set his crisps down, his face splitting into a mischievous grin as he leaned toward Wentworth.

"Wentworth, how much did you pay that journalist to write such glowing praise? If there were more than one Wentworth in the first year, I'd honestly question whether the article was about you!"

Cedric, sitting on Wentworth's other side, shoved Kirk away with a frown.

"Hey, Kirk, there's no way Wentworth would do something like that! By the way, which paper ran the story?"

With everyone's eyes now focused on Wentworth, Cedric's question sparked curiosity, prompting many students to look toward the Weasley twins for answers.

Fred Weasley, realizing he hadn't yet checked the source, quickly flipped through the newspaper again. Moments later, he hesitated before announcing with an odd expression:

"It's from The Quibbler."

The name sent a ripple through the crowd. Half the students immediately lost interest and dispersed, muttering:

"Oh, The Quibbler. That explains it."

The remaining students, though fewer, stayed out of curiosity, intrigued by the novelty of seeing a fellow Hogwarts student in print. However, most dismissed the article as typical of The Quibbler's exaggerated style, aware of its longstanding feud with The Daily Prophet.

Still, not everyone was indifferent. Even though The Quibbler was notorious for its eccentricity, it was a widely circulated wizarding publication. Its effusive praise of Wentworth inevitably stirred jealousy among some.

"Hey, Kirk," called Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch Seeker, as he approached with a sly grin. "The paper claims Wentworth led Hufflepuff to victory against Slytherin. What are your thoughts on that, as Hufflepuff's prefect?"

Flint's taunting words made both Wentworth and Cedric bristle. But before either could respond, Kirk yawned extravagantly and replied with deliberate nonchalance:

"What do I think? I think with my eyes, of course! What, did you expect me to fly into a rage? Don't be ridiculous! I wish Hufflepuff had a dozen Wentworths. It'd make my job as prefect so much easier—and we'd trample Slytherin every time."

Flint's face turned red with anger as he retorted,

"Trample Slytherin? Dream on! Don't think for a second that winning one match by sheer luck makes your house superior. This weekend's Quidditch match will show you what Slytherin is really capable of!"

Unfazed by Flint's bluster, Kirk smirked and replied,

"Terrifying. Truly. How about a little wager, then?"

Flint's bravado faltered, and he instinctively took a step back. The last Slytherin who bet against Kirk had been their former prefect, and it had cost him his position.

"I'm not wasting my time on you," Flint mumbled, retreating hastily. "We'll settle this on the Quidditch pitch tomorrow!"

As Flint hurried away, Kirk chuckled and lifted his chin triumphantly.

"Smart kid, running off like that! By the way, Wentworth, I heard you brought back a brand-new Firebolt prototype from the Quidditch World Cup. With that broom, you're already leagues ahead of Slytherin. Tomorrow's match is all yours!"

Kirk clapped Wentworth heavily on the shoulder in encouragement.

But Wentworth remained impassive and replied coolly,

"Kirk, you're giving me way too much credit. Don't pin all your hopes on me just yet."

Both Kirk and Cedric exchanged surprised glances. Cedric leaned in with concern.

"Wentworth, what's going on? Don't tell me you lost your broom!"

Wentworth shook his head, which brought visible relief to the other two. But before they could fully relax, he added,

"I didn't lose it. I just decided to save it as a future Christmas gift. I'm not planning to use it myself."

Cedric's eyes lit up with excitement as he stammered,

"Is it for me? That's way too generous!"

Wentworth merely shot Cedric a dry look and chuckled, shattering his dream.

Kirk, meanwhile, clutched his chest in mock relief.

"Thank Merlin Flint didn't take my bet! By the way, Wentworth, what did you just say?"

Confused, Wentworth repeated,

"I said, don't pin all your hopes on me."

Kirk nodded thoughtfully before clapping Wentworth's shoulder again. This time, his tone was both teasing and serious.

"Wentworth, you're overthinking it. As your senior, prefect, and Quidditch captain, I'd never pin all my hopes on you. What I'm asking is much simpler—just make sure you take the blame properly!"

Wentworth and Cedric: "…"

Meanwhile, Marcus Flint had returned to his dormitory, shutting the door behind him with a furtive glance. Carefully, he retrieved a package from his storage cabinet.

Inside was a letter and a small vial filled with a shimmering potion.

Staring at the vial, Flint's breath quickened, and a flush crept up his face. Yet his excitement was palpable.

Clutching the potion tightly, Flint declared to the empty room,

"This weekend, I'll be the victor! I'll prove who's truly the best student at Hogwarts!"

If Wentworth had been there, he might have recognized the potion in Flint's hand. It bore an uncanny resemblance to the Felix Felicis—Liquid Luck—that Snape had once given him.

-----------------------

Want to read ahead of schedule?

Join here for advance chapters: PATREON.COM / PRIMALDEMON