Who let this evil dragon into Hogwarts!

Chapter 14 Is a title that others don't want something to be proud of?

Crackling sound—

Lucien's face flickered in and out of the shadows, the whispers in the audience gradually faded away, leaving only the faint sound of firewood burning in the fireplace.

Terence instinctively stood up, but seeing his teammates watching coldly, he could only dust off non-existent dust from his clothes and shrink back into the corner of the sofa once again.

Gemma remained oblivious to this scene.

She had just warned us that showing weakness comes at a price.

"Slytherin doesn't welcome weaklings," Gemma said, still addressing the other freshmen, but her words were clearly pointed. "No matter what happens, snitching will only invite ridicule."

"Got it, kid?" Lucien looked Persson up and down with a mocking gaze, as if it were all perfectly natural. "If you still hope to make it to the first class of the semester, then now, turn around, draw your wand, and get whipped around like a mouse!"

Malfoy stood to the side, grinning sinisterly, clearly very willing to take on the job.

Faced with provocation.

But there was no anger on Poison's face.

He remained calm, his gaze not even falling on Lucien, but instead looking at the rows of portraits in the lounge.

Horace, Charman, Phineas...

All the portraits stared wide-eyed, like ghosts trapped in paintings, coldly surveying the scene in the lounge.

The former principal, Phineas, kept his gaze fixed on Poisson, with a hint of impatience.

It's like being assigned a job you don't like...

This strange, big, dumb guy in front of him was nothing to Poisson.

But behind those portraits that have come to life, there may very well be the figure of Dumbledore.

"We can't make the first move..."

Persson raised his head and stared directly into Lucien's eyes, his gaze devoid of fear and even carrying a hint of barely concealed contempt.

"Senior, I'm afraid I have to decline your proposal," he said politely, with a perfectly measured smile, but his words were anything but polite.

"If you're hoping to maintain your pitiful self-esteem by bullying freshmen, Mr. Malfoy next to you might be a better choice, after all, he's only slightly stronger than Flop the Caterpillar."

"However, I still recommend that you go back to your mother crying and beg her to praise you more. Believe me, the vast majority of low self-esteem and psychological distortions stem from unhappiness in one's family of origin, and must be treated as early as possible."

Poisson feigned a thoughtful expression, as if he were genuinely considering Lucien's feelings.

"you--"

Lucien's face turned a deep purple, and his whole body trembled slightly. Malfoy also placed his hand on his wand, signaling Crabbe and Goyle to prepare to make their move.

Marcus watched this scene with great interest and said with a smile:

"An interesting kid, hopefully I'll see him again tomorrow!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Lucien suddenly drew his wand, his lips twitching slightly, as if he was about to utter a curse.

But Poisson was even faster!

Without him having to lift a finger, the ebony wand slid into Possé's hand like a slippery eel.

"Eliminate your weapon."

With a lazy wave of his hand, Persson sent a red light striking Lucien. Before he could even react, his wand flew out of his hand and struck him hard across the face, leaving a red mark.

Snapped!

The sound of the slap could be clearly heard in the lounge.

Everyone just watched as the wand that had struck its master spun in the air, eagerly falling into Lucien's hands, showing not even the slightest bit of attachment to him.

Feeling the slight warmth of Lucien's wand in his palm, Persson simply tossed it into the trash can and clapped his hands, as if Lucien were a disgusting pile of vomit and any indirect contact with him was dirtying his hands.

Lucien's eyes widened.

It's like an incompetent husband watching his beloved wife throw herself into his boss's arms, only for the boss to pull up his pants after he's done with her and fire both of them.

Humiliation, blatant humiliation!

Good night, everyone. Have a pleasant night.

Persson gently touched his chest, bowed slightly, and walked past the ever-silent Gemma and the pale-faced Malfoy. He waved his wand and moved Lucien, who was blocking his way and whose chest was heaving violently but who had completely lost the ability to resist, to a corner in the shadows. Without looking back, he stepped through the entrance to the men's dormitory.

Footsteps echoed in the narrow lounge. No one spoke, no one stopped them; they simply watched Posson's figure disappear around the corner of the dormitory.

At this moment, even the most obtuse person should realize that Poisson is not giving up at all, but that the freshmen in his year are simply not qualified to let him make a move!

The entire battle lasted no more than five seconds.

One spell, and the fifth-year senior is disarmed!

Even if all the freshmen were combined, they probably wouldn't last more than a few rounds against Poisson.

"Go and retrieve the wand."

Marcus patted Lucien on the shoulder, signaling him to stop standing there making a fool of himself.

Persson's actions not only slapped Lucien in the face, but also challenged the authority of the Quidditch team and even the entire senior class.

Slytherin has a strict hierarchy, with lower-year students having absolute obedience and the ability to do whatever they want to upper-year students. This is not based on any conventions, but on absolute overwhelming strength.

But now, the crushing defeat is gone.

Marcus's face darkened as he watched Lucien slinking away, searching for his wand.

Poisson slapped him across the face, but he couldn't slap back.

It's embarrassing enough that a fifth grader can't beat a first grader.

If he continues to stand up for Lucien, even if he wins, others will see it as bullying the weak and outnumbering him, and he will be the one who loses face.

"Whether you like it or not, you'd better swallow this insult!"

Seeing that Lucien was still angry and seemed to be preparing to instigate others to get revenge for him, Marcus immediately nipped his idea in the bud.

"I was just careless!"

Lucien shouted loudly, but when he met Marcus's dangerous gaze, he could only shrug back on the sofa indignantly, his fingers digging into the cushions and leaving several indentations that couldn't bounce back, as if he were strangling Poisson.

"The farce is over? Then let's continue."

Gemma reminded everyone that the freshman selection process wasn't over yet, but everyone's minds were clearly elsewhere.

Won?

Is it something to be proud of to win a title that others don't want?

Malfoy looked at the followers surrounding him and waved his hand: "Disperse, everyone. From now on, we'll fight individually and give it our all."

"But--"

Before Goyle could say anything more, Malfoy coldly interrupted, "Do you think I need to rely on a bunch of useless people like you to become the head of Slytherin?"

Before anyone else could speak, Malfoy said in a tone that was arrogant, disdainful, yet tinged with a hint of resentment:

"I come from the noble Malfoy family, and I have no reason to lose to anyone!"