The next day Alexander was silent.
No arguing.
No commentary.
No dramatic speeches about the racist Sorting Hat.
He attended classes quietly. Sat through detention without complaint. Even Professor McGonagall noticed the sudden behavioral shift.
So did his roommates.
"You feeling alright?" one asked cautiously.
Alexander nodded. "Yes."
Cho asked during lunch, "You're not plotting something, right?"
He smiled pleasantly. "Everything is perfect."
Which, somehow, worried them more.
That night, he didn't even explore the castle. No hide-and-seek with Mrs. Norris. No mapping corridors.
He went to bed early.
But as he lay there, staring at the ceiling, his mind was very much awake.
Revenge, he thought.
Specifically—
Snape.
He already knew what tomorrow's Potions lesson would be.
Cure for Boils. Again.
And Cho had—very graciously—volunteered to be his partner.
Perfect.
The next morning arrived.
Potions class.
Dungeon cold. Air thick with fumes. Cauldrons simmering before instructions even began.
Professor Snape swept in like a thundercloud in robes.
"Today," he drawled, "you will once again attempt the Cure for Boils. Given last lesson's… disappointing performance, I expect improvement."
His eyes slid to Alexander.
Alexander smiled politely.
Said nothing.
Snape paused—clearly suspicious—but continued.
Instructions were written on the board.
Class began brewing.
Alexander worked calmly at first. Measured ingredients. Stirred correctly. Heat controlled.
Cho blinked. "You're… being normal."
"For now," he whispered.
Then the modifications began.
Subtle at first.
He adjusted the heat just slightly higher than recommended—but compensated with slower stirring.
He crushed the snake fangs finer than necessary, altering the potion's texture.
Then—while Snape's back was turned—he tapped his wand lightly against the cauldron's rim and whispered a harmless amplification charm.
The potion began bubbling more aggressively.
Still stable.
But loud.
Pop… pop… pop…
Students nearby glanced over nervously.
Snape turned sharply.
"Mr. Chen," he said silkily, "is there a reason your cauldron sounds like it's attempting escape?"
Alexander looked up innocently. "No, Professor."
Snape glided closer, eyes narrowing.
The potion suddenly released a dramatic plume of steam—harmless, but theatrical.
Cho coughed, waving her hand.
Snape's lip curled.
"Thirty points from Ravenclaw," he said instantly. "For tampering beyond your level."
Alexander nodded calmly.
"Understood, Professor."
Snape turned to leave—
Then Alexander added one final, perfectly timed ingredient adjustment.
Not dangerous.
But unstable enough to make the potion foam violently.
It overflowed—spilling thick blue unknown substance across the table and onto the floor.
Students gasped.
Snape spun back, cloak snapping.
"DETENTION," he hissed. "Another week."
Alexander tilted his head.
Then, loudly enough for the class:
"Professor… are you racist?"
The dungeon froze.
Snape went very still.
Alexander gestured calmly.
"Why are you picking on the only Asians in your class?"
Cho choked.
He pointed toward a Slytherin table.
"Look at that student. His cauldron is about to explode. But you're focused on us."
Snape's eyes darkened dangerously.
"Hm," Alexander continued thoughtfully. "Racist. I'll be reporting this to my parents. Be prepared."
He began packing his things.
Snape looked moments away from committing a felony.
Alexander finished calmly, then reached down—
—and grabbed Cho's hand.
"Let's go."
Cho's face turned bright red instantly.
She didn't know if it was embarrassment… or the hand-holding… or both.
But she followed.
They reached the dungeon door—
Behind them—
BOOM.
The Slytherin student's cauldron exploded in a shower of foam and smoke, sending half the table scrambling.
Chaos erupted.
Students shouting and scattering.
Potions splattered everywhere.
Snape looked away from Alexander instantly to contain the disaster.
By the time he looked back—
Alexander Chen and Cho Chang were already gone.