When Snape's words finally sank in, Malfoy and the other Slytherins were left in stunned silence. The idea of working overnight on such an intense workload was almost unbelievable.
"Overnight?" one whispered, disbelief coloring his voice.
The others exchanged glances, trying to imagine the reality of the situation. Could anyone really endure such a grueling task?
But soon, Malfoy's mind began to churn with doubt. He wasn't convinced.
"Sure, staying up all night is possible," he murmured, "but how long has Char been working for Professor Snape? Can he really keep this up every night? He has to manage the greenhouse, attend Quidditch practice, and keep up with his classes. Even the strongest wizard couldn't handle such intensity day after day."
For a moment, he looked lost in thought. Then suddenly, his eyes lit up as if he had just understood something important.
"No problem, Dean," Malfoy said confidently. "It's just an all-nighter. We can handle that!"
Snape frowned deeply. "Are you sure? If you understand your limits and decide to give up now, it's not too late."
The other Slytherins hesitated, unsure. But Malfoy's voice rang out firm and unwavering. "Dean, we won't give up. We will defend Slytherin's honor by any means necessary."
Snape's face darkened. He snorted coldly. "Then you'd better hold on and don't let me down."
With that, he turned sharply and left the classroom. As he walked away, he shook his head in frustration.
"Idiots, all of them are idiots," he muttered. "I've already given them one chance. They're just a bunch of monsters with no brains. They can't even recognize their own strength or that of their opponents. How did this year's Slytherin class get so weak?"
Meanwhile, Malfoy remained oblivious to Snape's true feelings. The little snakes gathered around him anxiously.
"Malfoy, the Headmaster seemed really unhappy," one whispered. "I feel like he wants us to be sensible and back down, to stop competing with Char."
"Why did you agree to this before even discussing it with us?" another asked.
Malfoy lifted his head, his expression confident. "You didn't realize it. This is the Dean's test for us."
He explained further, "The Dean said this job requires working all night every day. But think about it—Char is still human. How can he keep up such high-intensity work every day? He must get tired. He needs sleep. It's impossible. So the Dean must be exaggerating."
"What's his purpose then?" someone asked.
Malfoy continued, "First, it's to test our ability to separate truth from lies. Second, it's to test our determination to get the job done by any means necessary. Remember the Dean's teachings: the ends justify the means. That's our Slytherin creed. We must first push ourselves to the limit. The all-nighter is meant to scare us, to see if we have that determination."
The little snakes suddenly understood.
"So, as long as we hold on, the Dean will see our resolve to push Char out by any means necessary?"
Malfoy nodded vigorously. "Char can handle so much work by himself. With all of us, there's no way we can't do it. Let's get started!"
Fueled by Malfoy's words, the little snakes attacked the Flobberworms with renewed vigor, as if injected with adrenaline. But the grim reality soon set in. Their faces paled, the slimy, wriggling Flobberworms disgusting to the touch.
After a while, several of the Slytherin girls couldn't hold back their nausea. The mucus's painful, itchy properties began to take their toll. Their arms turned red and swollen, covered in hives, and bursts of unbearable itching followed.
Malfoy gritted his teeth. "Hold on! We have to endure this. When Char finishes Quidditch practice, he'll find we've taken his place. The evil Hufflepuff badger's plot will be foiled! The turning point in the House Cup starts now!"
The little snakes took a deep breath, braving the nausea and pain, and continued their grim task.
At the same time, on the Quidditch pitch, the Hufflepuff team was deep into their daily training. Char hovered above the field, relentlessly chasing the Bludgers. With wild swings of his bat, gusts of fierce wind followed, sending the Bludgers flying like cannonballs.
Cedric Diggory and the other badgers darted across the field, their movements choreographed to follow Char's Bludger trajectories. In a real match, Char's powerful hits would tear through the opponent's defense, allowing the badgers to rush forward and score with the Quaffle. Meanwhile, the opposing Seeker, focused on the Snitch, would face a constant threat from Char's Bludgers.
This hitter-centric strategy was rare in Hogwarts Quidditch, but the badgers had embraced it. Cedric, the captain and Seeker, had proposed the tactic, and the team was refining it with enthusiasm. Cedric didn't mind that his spotlight was dimmed; what mattered was winning the Quidditch Cup, a trophy Hufflepuff hadn't seen in years.
In the shadows at the edge of the field, a thin figure watched intently. It was Harry Potter. He had mistakenly come to the wrong stadium—today was Gryffindor's practice day—but this happy accident allowed him to witness Char's terrifying power on the field.
Harry's face paled. "Wait until the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match," he thought. "Is that the kind of Bludger I'll have to face? Char's a monster on the pitch. If one of those hits me, I'll be lucky to make it to the hospital wing."
Captain Wood had always viewed Slytherin as Gryffindor's main rival, but now Harry wondered if Hufflepuff might be an even stronger opponent.
Harry shifted uneasily. He wanted to warn Captain Wood, but then a new idea struck him. Ever since discovering the three-headed dog behind the trapdoor on the fourth floor, Harry had been obsessed with what the creature guarded. The dog's ferocity had left him traumatized, unsure how to face such a beast.
But with Char's strength, and that powerful bat, how many heads would a three-headed dog really have? Wouldn't Char's three swings be enough to take it down?
Excitement surged through Harry. He waited along the path Char would take after practice.
When Char walked out of the stadium, he was surprised to see Harry blocking his way.
"Harry Potter?" Char frowned. He hadn't interacted with Harry much since arriving at Hogwarts. Partly to avoid unnecessary trouble, partly because they had nothing in common. Planting magical herbs, practicing spells, and processing potion materials were enough to keep him busy.
Harry, however, looked at Char with burning eyes. "Char, I saw your performance on the pitch. Your strength might be as great as Hagrid's!"
Then Harry's voice lowered, serious and urgent. "There's something important—something that might affect the safety of Hogwarts. I want to invite you to join us. Together, we might protect the school."
Harry's mind raced with visions of adventure: Char swinging his bat, defeating the three-headed dog, thwarting secret conspiracies, and saving Hogwarts. Surely no young wizard would refuse such a call.
Char looked at Harry, a slight smile playing on his lips. Life at Hogwarts was about to get even more interesting.