Slytherin traditional repertoire

Even a culinary wasteland had its oases; Hogwarts' dinner was satisfying.

Lucretius Black, the seventh-year Slytherin Prefect, rose to his feet and lightly tapped a goblet with a silver spoon.

"Slytherin new students, follow me."

Regulus and the other eleven new students left the long table and followed him through a side door of the Great Hall, descending a long spiral staircase of stone.

The farther down they went, the colder the air became. The walls changed into smooth black marble, and the torches burned with eerie emerald green flames.

At last, they stopped before a bare stone wall, upon which there was only a crudely carved stone snake.

The Prefect turned to face the new students.

"I am Lucretius Black, seventh-year Prefect." His gaze swept across every face, lingering a moment longer on Regulus.

"Welcome to Slytherin. Before you enter, let me make a few things clear."

"First, Slytherin values bloodline, ambition, and intelligence. None can be lacking."

"Second, loyalty is of utmost importance here—loyalty to your own. Your roommates and classmates will be your most dependable allies in the future, or your most dangerous enemies."

"Third, Slytherin does not welcome weakness. Crying and tattling will only make you a laughingstock."

His gaze swept over Regulus once more.

"Lastly, remember this: the Black family's incident last year brought shame upon Slytherin. I hope that this year, someone can restore that reputation."

The implication was practically explicit. Several new students secretly glanced at Regulus.

Regulus remained calm and answered with silence. He knew there would definitely be a show tonight.

The Prefect turned to the stone wall and said clearly, "Glory."

The stone snake's eyes glowed red, and the wall slid silently open.

The Slytherin common room.

The room was rectangular, with silver-green drapes hanging from the ceiling. One wall was made entirely of transparent magic glass, beyond which lay the underwater scenery of the Black Lake.

A giant squid drifted slowly past, glowing jellyfish floated like ghosts, and the Fireplace burned with emerald green flames that made no sound.

The furnishings were dark wood with silver ornaments, upholstered in dark green velvet. Portraits of Famous Slytherins throughout history hung on the walls, watching the new students with stern eyes.

Quite a few upper-year students were already in the room. When the new students entered, every gaze turned toward them—curious, indifferent, mocking.

Lucretius walked to the Fireplace. "Free time. The first-year Dormitory assignment list is on the wall over there."

The new students surged toward the Parchment on the wall. Regulus was in no hurry; he remained where he was and looked around the common room.

Then he heard someone saying his name—not calling for him, but talking about him.

The voice came from the sofa area to the right. Several fifth-year boys sat there, and the speaker was a black-haired boy with a hooked nose and a mocking smile on his face.

"Another Black. Why not go to the Lion's den together?"

The boys beside him laughed along, without any friendliness.

The common room fell quiet. The upper-years stopped talking, the lower-years held their breath, and no one intervened. Everyone was waiting to see how this newly arrived Black would react.

Regulus slowly turned to face the speaker.

"Are you talking about me?" His voice was calm and low.

The hooked-nosed boy raised a brow. "If you're Regulus Black, then yes, I'm talking about you."

"I am. So, do you need something?" Regulus knew someone would step forward. He had been hoping for it.

The boy stood. He was a head taller than Regulus, and the cuffs of his robe bore exquisite silver embroidery—the Travers family crest.

"I'm merely curious," he said, slowly approaching. "Is everyone in the Black family's generation so independent-minded? Your brother chose Gryffindor. What about you?"

"How long do you plan to stay in Slytherin? One semester? Or until you find more interesting friends?"

Several lackeys laughed again, gradually surrounding Regulus.

Regulus's gray eyes rested on him without the slightest ripple.

"Mr. Travers," he said, addressing him by his surname, "if I remember correctly, the Travers family intermarried with Muggle merchants in the eighteenth century to save the family business from imminent bankruptcy."

"It is recorded in detail in Chapter Seven, Section Three of Secret History of Pure-Blood Families. Would you like me to remind you of the exact passage?"

There was a stain on your pride.

The boy's face instantly flushed red.

The whispers around them grew louder, and several upper-years exchanged looks.

"What nonsense are you talking about?!" His voice abruptly rose.

"Secret History of Pure-Blood Families, by Broderick Bode, citing the commercial contracts and marriage registration records of the time." Regulus's voice remained calm. "Would you like me to recite it?"

The boy opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His hands clenched, his knuckles turning white.

Regulus looked at him and continued, "Of course, that was in the past. What matters is the present. You just mentioned being 'independent-minded.'"

"I don't consider having one's own mind a flaw. In fact, blindly following others is what is truly pathetic."

His gaze swept across the entire common room, and several lackeys hurriedly avoided his eyes.

"Slytherin values wisdom. Wisdom means thinking independently, knowing what is worth pursuing and what is beneath notice.

My brother chose his path, and I chose mine. That is having a mind of one's own. And you—"

Regulus looked at the boy, his gaze calm yet subtly oppressive.

"—you chose to prove your sense of existence with cheap provocation on the first night new students arrived. Is that your idea of having a mind of your own?"

Everyone's eyes shifted from Regulus to Travers.

The boy's face went from red to white, then green. His hand shot into the inner pocket of his robe, about to draw his wand.

But Regulus moved faster. His wand slid into his hand in an instant, and he gave a light flick through the air.

The air before the boy suddenly distorted. An invisible barrier sprang into existence, and the instant he drew his wand, it struck something like a glass wall with a soft ding, flew from his hand spinning toward the ceiling—

Then froze in midair, completely still.

A precise interception.

Regulus gave his wrist a slight turn, and the other boy's wand began to descend slowly, as though cradled by an invisible hand. It returned steadily to the boy's feet, wand tip down, and came to rest upright on the carpet.

The entire process was quiet and elegant, without a trace of anger.

"If you truly want to compete," Regulus said, putting away his wand, "I suggest you at least learn how to hold on to one first."

Several younger students were about to cry out when Regulus took a step forward. The lackeys exchanged glances and silently moved aside.

One older girl was about to speak, but another stopped her and shook her head.

"Now," Regulus's voice was the only sound in the common room, "pick it up."

His voice remained low, yet everyone heard him clearly.

Someone looked toward Lucretius. He did not move.

Travers's face was so red it looked ready to explode, his hair practically standing on end. His body trembled, and his eyes looked as though they wanted to devour someone.

Regulus remained calm, while everyone else wore unreadable expressions.

A first-year new student had made a fifth-year student unable even to draw his wand. Everyone understood what that implied.

Powerful. Not someone to provoke.

Vicious.

The insult in his actions was far too blatant.

In an instant, everyone's impression of Regulus changed from "the one whose family produced a traitor" to this.

Regulus did not need a wand to accomplish this much, but he had promised Orion not to behave abnormally at school.

So he used a wand.

Travers's chest heaved violently. Just as someone thought he would resist, he suddenly bent down, picked up his wand, lowered his head, and shoved through the crowd, disappearing around the corner at the dormitory entrance.

His lackeys vanished as well, without even leaving behind a single threat.

Regulus turned and walked toward the dormitory assignment list on the wall. The new students made way for him.

This did not even count as a confrontation. It was merely bullying a child, and Regulus found it rather dull.

The boy was not only weak, but stupid. Regulus knew this had been deliberately arranged, but he did not care. He welcomed it.

The entire common room remained quiet. Only after he reached the wall did whispers begin again, though most were shocked murmurs.

Several older students exchanged looks.

A seventh-year girl with long dark-brown hair and a Rosier family brooch whispered to her companion, "He's interesting."

Another boy from the Nott family nodded, his gaze lingering on Regulus for a long time.

An older boy with a haughty bearing asked, "Did you understand it?"

Another girl with an elegant demeanor nodded silently.

The younger students were completely stunned. A first-year girl clutched her companion's arm, her voice excited. "Just now... was that a silent spell? In first year?"

The round-faced boy beside her swallowed, sounding uncertain. "I... I think so?"

Regulus ignored them. He found his name on the list.

First-year dormitory A:

Regulus Black, Avery Cuthbert, Hermes Mulciber, Alex Rosier.