Jon quickly stood up, doing his best to compose his expression into something serious.
He bowed slightly toward Draco Malfoy and said, "I believe I am honored, Draco."
A faint smile appeared on Malfoy's face as he promptly extended a hand to help Jon up. "Welcome, Chris... welcome to the Knights of Walpurgis!" he said excitedly.
Everyone seated around the round table rose one by one, forming a line.
Each of them, in turn, gave Jon a hug.
"Quite the ceremony..." Jon thought to himself.
Hugging the girls wasn't bad...
But when it came to the two hulking figures of Crabbe and Goyle, it wasn't nearly as pleasant—especially since those two oafs seemed particularly enthusiastic.
After all, they had already been "friends" since the Hogwarts Express.
When the welcoming ritual finally ended—
"Now you're one of us!" Malfoy said, patting Jon on the shoulder before motioning for everyone to take their seats again.
...
Crabbe and Goyle headed to the bar to bring back some Butterbeer and mead.
Soon, the aspiring Death Eaters of Slytherin began drinking and chatting cheerfully.
"Are you sure Umbridge isn't on our side?" Blaise Zabini asked loudly, raising his glass.
"I asked my father," Malfoy replied. "He told me there's no such name on the Death Eaters' list."
"Then she must be a saint!" Pansy Parkinson quipped in her signature raspy voice, drawing a round of laughter.
"Umbridge is one of Fudge's people," Malfoy continued. "She's practically our dear Minister's most trusted subordinate. Fudge thinks Dumbledore's talk of the Dark Lord's return is just a ploy to steal his position as Minister. So, he sent her to Hogwarts to keep an eye on Dumbledore and his school... and to find some dirt on him, so he can throw Dumbledore into Azkaban."
"Our dear Minister really is a saint!" Pansy echoed dramatically.
"Enough, Pansy," Malfoy said with a wave of his hand before going on, "My father believes we should actively assist Umbridge—to make her job at Hogwarts easier."
"Why would we help her?" Gregory Goyle asked, frowning in confusion.
"Goyle, you idiot!" Blaise Zabini sighed and shook his head. "If Umbridge can force Dumbledore out of Hogwarts—or better yet, get him locked up in Azkaban—that would be a huge win for the Dark Lord's plans!"
Goyle nodded uncertainly, half-understanding.
"Dumbledore isn't that easy to deal with," Jon remarked casually.
Several members of the Knights of Walpurgis turned their eyes toward him. Jon shrugged and added, "At least, that's what I've picked up from Chocolate Frog cards."
"Chris is absolutely right!" Malfoy nodded thoughtfully. "Dumbledore's a sly old fox. Even the Dark Lord himself has some caution toward him at times..."
"But in the end, the Dark Lord will prevail!" Jon raised his goblet and shouted, "Cheers!"
"Yes, the Dark Lord will prevail!" Malfoy echoed solemnly, raising his goblet as well.
"Cheers!" Over a dozen students followed suit, lifting their glasses and shouting in unison, "The Dark Lord will prevail!"
...
But at the end of the day, they were still just fourteen- and fifteen-year-old children.
After a brief moment of serious talk, the room once again filled with noisy chatter.
"If the Dark Lord takes power, what would you do?" Malfoy asked idly.
"I'd catch a few young Muggles and bring them to Selwyn Manor," Tiffany Selwyn said after a moment of thought. "Train them as house-elves for my grandmother. Her legs haven't been very steady these past few years."
Her delicate, pretty face twisted into an expression far too cruel for someone her age.
"I'd probably be graduating from Hogwarts by then," Crabbe said, scratching his head. "Maybe I'll apply to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts... and teach students how to use the Unforgivable Curses on Muggles!"
"Crabbe, you? A teacher?" someone snorted, and the basement erupted in laughter.
"Why are you all so obsessed with Muggles!" Pansy Parkinson shrieked. "Shouldn't Mudbloods be the ones we despise most?"
Her long face contorted with hatred. "That Granger from Gryffindor—filthy Mudblood... Once the Dark Lord takes power, I'll hunt her down myself and make her wish she were dead!"
"Enough, Pansy," Malfoy said with a slight frown, turning toward Jon.
"Chris, what about you? The Dark Lord will surely welcome you back to Britain to aid his cause!"
"Me?" Jon took a small sip from his goblet of mead, the corner of his lips curving faintly.
...
"I don't have anything in particular I wish to do," Jon said calmly. "But if you want to see what the future will look like under the Dark Lord's rule, I can show you."
"If you're willing to believe it," he added.
"The future!"
The once-bustling room instantly fell silent.
A dozen pairs of eyes fixed intently on Jon.
If anyone else had said that, they would have laughed it off.
But this was Christopher Patrick speaking.
He had already proven his remarkable gift for prophecy in Divination class—so much so that most of the students here believed Professor Trelawney's prophetic abilities paled in comparison to his.
"Of course we believe you," Malfoy said with a nod. "I told my father about your performance in prophecy. Even he holds you in high regard."
"Very well." Jon calmly reached into his pocket and took out a small silver octahedral box. "Then watch closely."
The seemingly ordinary box suddenly burst into brilliant light—
Everyone instinctively threw up their hands to shield their eyes from the glare, squinting as they tried to adjust to it.
...