Hogwarts: I will not become the Dark Lord

"Did you sign autographs for all of them?" Hermione asked, a hint of obvious jealousy in her tone, as Jerry sat down beside her.

"How about I sign one for you too?" Jerry quipped with a smile.

"Hmph!" Hermione snorted softly, pouting and rolling her eyes at Jerry.

"Jerry, I went to the kitchen to visit Dobby last night!" Harry said from across the table.

"Oh? How is Dobby? Is he doing well?" Jerry asked, taking a spoonful of porridge.

"Dobby is doing great. He's very happy that Professor Dumbledore allowed him to work at Hogwarts, and he even gets one Galleon a week and one day off each month!" Harry was happy for Dobby.

"I knew Hogwarts was different," Hermione said, surprised that Dobby received both wages and vacation. "Dumbledore truly is the greatest white wizard of this century!"

However, Harry frowned slightly, as if recalling something unpleasant: "But when I saw Winky, Mr. Crouch's house-elf, last night, she seemed a bit off..."

"When we saw her last night, Winky kept crying and repeating, 'Poor master, Winky can't help him anymore,' over and over."

"What's so pitiful about Mr. Crouch? He's the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation! With so many people under him, why does he need a house-elf to do anything?" Ron shook his head in confusion. "Percy works for Mr. Crouch. I think Percy would be more than happy to run his legs off for him if Mr. Crouch just asked!"

"Winky probably hasn't adjusted to her current life yet," Neville explained. "After all, house-elves like Winky are born to be loyal servants of the Crouch family. From her grandmother to her mother, generation after generation has been like that."

...

December at Hogwarts was shrouded in gales, rain, and snow. Although drafts occasionally swept through the castle's interior, students couldn't help but feel grateful for the warmth of the hearths and the protection of the solid, thick walls whenever they hurried past the Durmstrang ship, swaying forlornly on the lake.

Hagrid was still in charge of caring for Madam Maxime's magnificent horses, and one of his tasks was to continuously provide them with their preferred single malt whiskey.

So, whenever students attended Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class, they would be overwhelmed by the strong smell of alcohol wafting from the corner of the stables, their steps becoming somewhat blurred and dazed.

As the end of the first term of fourth year at Hogwarts quietly approached, the Christmas holidays were also just around the corner.

The atmosphere of learning on campus seemed to be diluted by the upcoming holiday, and everyone's thoughts had drifted to their distant homes and festive gatherings.

In this atmosphere, even the usually strict little Professor Flitwick had to compromise with the students' absent-mindedness, simply changing Wednesday's class to a relaxed study hall, allowing everyone to talk and play games. However, not all teachers were so tolerant; other classes still maintained their usual rigor and order.

For example, Professor Binns, who didn't care at all about the upcoming holidays, perhaps because he was a ghost.

Strangely enough, Professor Binns could narrate the Goblin Rebellions, which once shook the wizarding world and were filled with blood and tears, as blandly as Percy's lengthy and tedious cauldron experiment report, making it difficult for anyone to be even slightly interested.

And Professor McGonagall and Professor Moody never allowed any student to slack off in their classes until the very last moment before the bell rang.

Jerry sometimes suspected that Barty Crouch Jr. was just too into the role. You're fake, fake! The real Moody probably wouldn't be as serious as you!

As for Professor Snape, he'd rather acknowledge Harry as his godson than let students relax in his class!

On Friday, Slytherin and Gryffindor students had Potions class together.

As the bell rang, the classroom was instantly filled with a busy and excited atmosphere, as students hurriedly stuffed their thick books into their bags, eager to leave the gloomy Potions classroom.

"Silence!" Snape's voice, though not loud, was as piercing as the winter wind. His gaze slowly swept across the entire classroom, causing the students who were originally eager to leave to feel a chill down their spines and obediently sit back in their seats. The classroom returned to a deathly silence.

"Gryffindor students may leave. Slytherin students, stay!" Snape said slowly after the classroom was quiet.

Upon hearing this, the Gryffindor students grabbed their bags and hurriedly left the Potions classroom.

After all the Gryffindor students had left the classroom, Snape sat down in the high-backed chair behind the podium.

"As your Head of House, I have something to inform you," Snape's cold voice entered everyone's ears. "This year's Christmas holiday is different from the past. There will be a Yule Ball, a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament."

"Each participating student will need to find a partner for themselves, but please note that the ball is only open to fourth-year students and above. Of course, if you wish, you may exceptionally invite younger students."

As Snape's words fell, Pansy Parkinson took the lead in letting out a sharp and slightly smug giggle, and the rest of the students also chuckled softly. All the girls in the classroom subconsciously glanced at Jerry after hearing Snape's words.

"Professor Snape..." Jerry's voice was slightly hesitant, as if he couldn't bring himself to speak.

"You can't dance?" Snape asked with a frown, but after seeing Jerry shake his head, he said, "Then you can't find a partner? Jerry Green, who is in the limelight, is worried about not finding a partner?"

"No," Jerry sighed. "Professor Snape, what I mean is...can everyone only have one partner? Professor, you know, I'm also very helpless..."

"Heh heh!" Snape was furious when he heard Jerry's words.

"I'm counting to three, and if you're still in my classroom, I'll stuff these toad guts into your mouth!"

Upon hearing this, Jerry turned around and ran, afraid that Snape would go back on his word and count directly to three!