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Chapter 62: Arrogance and Prejudice
Knock, knock, knock.
A soft tap echoed against the compartment door.
Theo, sitting near the door, rose to open it. “Hello?”
Outside, a voice responded—
“Mancini? You’re in this compartment?”
“I heard Wade Gray was here—”
“Looks like I’ve come to the wrong one—should’ve gone further ahead—”
The student muttered to himself, already turning to move on, when a casual glance caught sight of Wade sitting inside.
The boy froze for a split second. His lazy expression hadn’t fully vanished before it melted into a sudden, eager smile.
“Wait—really? You’re actually here?”
He pushed past Theo, stepping into the compartment with two others, as if he belonged. “Hey, Gray. How was your holiday?”
Theo was shoved into the corner, watching helplessly as three towering students—each significantly taller than him—filled the cramped space.
—Who are you?
Wade arched a brow, about to speak, when Michael suddenly cut in, standing up with a cheerful grin. “Long time no see, Prewitt! Heard you went to Iceland for Christmas?”
Prewitt finally turned to look at him, smiling. “Yeah. Saw some breathtaking scenery. And when I got back, I heard about the Book of Friends—”
His eyes flicked to Wade. “—It’s absolutely astonishing! I bought the full deluxe edition right away—twelve volumes, one for each month of the year.”
Michael played along with exaggerated admiration. “No surprise there. The Prewitt family’s ancient lineage still commands respect—even Machionni has to bow to them. We only managed to snag one copy at the limited release. Getting a second one? Probably have to wait two weeks.”
“Don’t worry,” Prewitt said smoothly, “not that long. When there’s profit to be made, Machionni moves faster than a Gralin on a clear night. Of course—this December’s limited edition? Only the first batch was ever put up for sale, and only to truly old and noble Pure-Blood families. Not like some… others.”
He said the last part with a pointed, lingering glance at Theo—his tone dripping with quiet arrogance.
The Mancini family wasn’t poor by any stretch—certainly better off than the Weasleys. But Theo had been sorted into Hufflepuff, and somehow that had branded him in the eyes of the elite Pure-Bloods as a “dullard,” instantly relegating him to the bottom rung of their social ladder.
Liam’s face turned icy. He was about to stand, but Theo placed a firm hand on his shoulder, silencing him.
Michael, oblivious to the subtext, chuckled. “Prewitt family really is ancient—these two are—?”
The two boys behind Prewitt had been eyeing Wade with quiet fascination, occasionally glancing at Michael. To them, the two Hufflepuffs were invisible. Their scarves bore bold green stripes with silver trim, their expressions dark and guarded—clearly Slytherins.
Among the Houses, only the Eagle House maintained anything resembling a cordial relationship with the Serpent House. But even that “friendship” was limited to polite greetings and brief exchanges—nothing close to true camaraderie.
Prewitt, eager for attention, stepped in. “This is Gaston Axley—”
The golden-haired, browed boy gave Wade a polite nod.
“This is Oner Flee—”
The dark-skinned, soft-faced boy smiled warmly.
“They’re both sixth-years in Slytherin. Heard the inventor of the Book of Friends was in this compartment, so we came to meet you.”
Prewitt kept smiling, but his eyes locked onto Michael with a clear message: Back off, kid.
Michael, unimpressed, stepped aside with a smirk. As he turned, he winked at Wade—silent, but loaded with meaning.
Gaston Axley stepped forward, extending his hand in a gesture of polite greeting. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Gray.”
Under Michael’s watchful, slightly tense gaze, Wade stood and shook his hand. “Hello.”
His tone was flat, but not cold. To someone talented, even neutrality could be interpreted as welcome.
In Slytherin’s eyes, refusal was the only true rejection. Anything else was considered friendly.
A faint smile touched Axley’s pale face. “I never expected the creator of the Book of Friends to be so young. Ravenclaw hasn’t seen a student of your caliber in years. Mr. Gray, you’re truly gifted—your potential rivals even Terence Mor. You deserve a stage far greater than Hogwarts to fully shine.”
He paused, drawing out the words. “The Axley family would be honored to offer you some support.”
Prewitt maintained his smile, but a flicker of envy betrayed him. Michael glanced at him, then shifted his gaze to Flee—whose expression remained flawless, unreadable.
“Thank you for your kind offer,” Wade said politely. “I’m truly honored. But I’m still just an apprentice in Alchemy. I’m nowhere near Professor Mor’s level.”
“Of course,” Axley said, brushing it off with a hint of condescension. “Professor Mor is unparalleled. But I admire your future—far more than his present. The alchemical level of the Book of Friends is basic—many Seventh Years could manage it. What truly impresses me is the originality—the idea behind it. How did you even conceive of it?”
Wade nodded. “To be honest, I didn’t invent it from scratch. Do you know about Muggle technology? The internet?”
“—Muggle?”
The three boys’ expressions changed in unison—like they’d heard something filthy.
“Yes,” Wade said, smiling. “The core protocol of the internet is TCP/IP. Data is broken into packets, sent across networks. A client sends a request to a server, receives and interprets the response. The sequence of commands and raw data are processed in real time—”
He calmly explained the fundamentals of computing—how data flows, how servers respond, how networks connect. Then he drifted into cloud computing, electronic chips, wide-area networks, data planes—then veered into futuristic concepts: e-commerce, artificial intelligence, big data, blockchain technology, digital currency...
For a moment, the entire compartment was silent—only Wade’s voice filled the air.
The others stared blankly, eyes wide and unfocused—like newborns, utterly lost.
Even students who had come to meet Wade, drawn by curiosity, stood frozen at the door, too afraid to step inside, as if the compartment were cursed.
When Wade paused for breath, the three guests—still polite, still stiff—rose immediately to leave. Their faces were pale, as if they’d just survived a storm. They walked away with hurried, almost panicked steps.
Theo closed the door, then cast a locking spell.
The moment the spell took hold, the four of them burst into laughter.
(End of Chapter)
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