Make Slytherin Great Again!

The common room was packed. Everyone had just finished dinner and needed a little time to digest, but there were far more people than usual today. The normally spacious room was crammed with older students. Two hundred of them had found places to sit or stand, waiting for the show to begin once their food had settled.

Slytherin rarely had arrogant, overbearing first-years. And when one did appear, he was always from a wizarding family, with elders who were either high-ranking Ministry of Magic officials or professors at the school—people most others couldn't afford to offend. But Ezio was different.

The surname Auditore wasn't native to England. Slytherin had plenty of clever people; otherwise, they couldn't have won the Hogwarts House Cup for several years running, despite being dragged down by a bunch of idiots. Snape's favoritism played a part, of course, but the clever little Slytherins also knew how to earn points from the other professors.

The surname came from Italy, and according to some wizards with relatives there, Ezio probably wasn't from an Italian wizarding family, since no wizarding family named Auditore existed there.

A Muggle-born wizard with no backing had dared to run his mouth in Slytherin. More people wanted to teach him a lesson than before.

The moment the first-years had been led into the common room by Labas, several burly figures came over.

"Marcus, I'm busy right now."

Labas stared coldly at the brawny lout standing half a head taller than him. They were both pure-blood wizards from families among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but they weren't close. Labas never took a disgrace to Slytherin like Marcus seriously. His family had more influence than Marcus's, so he had no reason to be particularly pleasant to him.

"Not your business." Marcus spoke roughly, swinging his thick arm. "I've got something to take care of with that stinking Mudblood. Move!"

When Marcus loudly said "stinking Mudblood," the few ruffians behind him burst into piercing laughter.

"Is that me you're calling a Mudblood?"

Just then, a clear voice rang out. Ezio, who had been near the front of the crowd, calmly stepped forward and faced the hulking figure from about six feet away. The man stood more than a head taller than him.

Marcus looked downright savage, like some sort of cross between a wizard and a Troll. His hulking body and hideous face made it seem as though he'd used all the nutrients meant for his brain to grow his muscles. He looked less like a wizard and more like some kind of not-quite-evolved gorilla.

"That saves me some time." Marcus's eyes lit up when he saw Ezio, and he immediately stepped forward.

The move startled the other first-years. Draco, at the back of the group, looked excited. He was finally going to see Ezio get humiliated. But the thought passed in a flash. He was more concerned with whether Ezio might pull out his wand and cast "Avada Kedavra" at the man in front of him. But Ezio had only been trying to scare him before. Though Ezio had embarrassed him, only three people knew about it, and he'd even let Draco leave with some dignity—without wetting his pants. For some reason, Draco felt a tiny bit grateful to him.

"I'll show you that Slytherin isn't a place for a stinking Mudblood like you!"

The instant Marcus took a step and raised his hand to grab Ezio, his target suddenly vanished. Ezio was far faster than Marcus. In the blink of an eye, he was right up against the brawny brute.

Ezio's right fist shot out like lightning, striking Marcus precisely in the liver. The seemingly effortless blow made the six-foot-three giant double over, his eyes bulging. He hit the ground like a cooked shrimp, curled up and clutching his stomach. He couldn't even scream.

The pain was so intense that he'd lost his voice. In practice, Ezio had found this to be the least lethal place to strike.

If he'd flicked out his Hidden Blade as Marcus fell, he could have slashed his throat in one smooth motion. A severed artery would have left him unconscious within three seconds.

But the Hidden Blade had been replaced by a wand, and Ezio had no intention of killing anyone.

Marcus's fall was only the beginning. Moving with quick, graceful steps like a butterfly among flowers, Ezio advanced calmly in the space of a breath or two. The men following Marcus had no time to react. As if they'd rehearsed it beforehand, they crumpled to the ground right after Marcus.

"You called me... a Mudblood?"

Ezio returned to his place with his hands hanging at his sides, then planted his foot on Marcus's face. In a voice as calm as it was cold, he asked, "Then what kind of piece of shit are you?"

A crisp crack rang out. Whether Marcus's jaw had been crushed or dislocated, his bloodcurdling howl of pain pierced everyone's ears, torturing their nerves. The onlookers went pale. They seemed to have provoked someone truly terrifying.

"I said you're Slytherin trash..."

Ezio raised his head and swept his gaze around the room. "Anyone disagree?"

A circle of empty space had opened up around him. The first-years were backing away. The only ones who hadn't moved were Harry and Labas.

"Perhaps you're still thinking..." Ezio's lips curled slightly. "Wizards should use wands, right—"

As he spoke the last two words, Ezio raised a hand. The Shield Charm blocked two red bolts fired from his flank. His left hand moved slightly, and the Thunderbird Wand swiftly countered. Two little sticks shot into the air, and he caught them in one hand.

"Then let's do this the wizard's way."

Crack! He caught the wands as they flew through the air and snapped them in half.

"Go ahead and try me."

The Elder Wand swept through the air, and two figures were yanked out of the crowd. With a flick of the wand, they slammed heavily onto the floor and writhed in pain.

"Duelling is something I'm good at."

Whether it was the instinctive reaction that let him block a sneak attack without even looking, or the Nonverbal Spell he'd performed more skillfully than many older students, Ezio had shown just a glimpse of what he could do. Nobody saw him as an ordinary first-year anymore. His crisp methods, skill in both magic and physical combat, and decisive, ruthless actions had earned him a label in the onlookers' minds within moments: not someone to mess with.

"That's enough!"

Labas spoke up angrily. "Williams! Jabbar! Is sneaking up on a first-year what you're supposed to do? You hopeless idiots!"

Seeing the two men who'd been dragged out of the crowd, Labas felt a headache coming on. If it had only been Marcus, a few punches wouldn't have been a big deal. Even broken bones could be healed right away with a potion. But sneaking up on someone with a spell—and failing—was infuriating to him. Failing at a sneak attack was a disgrace!

"You two idiots are no different from Marcus!" Labas spat in disgust. The two were members of the Slytherin club he belonged to, which made him look bad.

"I apologize for their stupidity." Labas straightened his expression.

"You weren't the one who attacked me. Unless you put them up to it." Ezio glanced at Labas. His voice remained calm, but Labas's expression stiffened. Ezio calmly looked away and asked, "Do you know why I chose Slytherin?"

Labas looked ready to listen. The people who'd come to watch the show—and had now seen it—had lost their earlier ease as well. They all watched Ezio, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"Slytherin is ruled by strength."

"I came here for one reason."

Ezio raised one finger.

Make Slytherin great again!

"You're sick of living alongside these idiots, fools, and parasites too, aren't you?"

Looking at the young but not childish face before them, handsome and brimming with authority and confidence, something seemed to stir in the hearts of those around him.

"My fellow Slytherins!

Today we've gathered here not only to celebrate the fresh blood pouring into Slytherin, but also to witness its rebirth!

We've been misunderstood. People think we're nothing but scum who use despicable methods to get what we want. It's true that we strive for ultimate success, but is there anything wrong with that?

No!

The desire for success is an instinct rooted in everyone's heart. Nobody likes to fail. Nobody wants to make an effort only to end up with nothing!

Our pursuit is right. So why has this righteous pursuit, this great vision of ours, been twisted into the depravity people associate with us today?

I know it isn't your fault. I believe most of you are excellent and clever, just like me. You don't need to repeat a simple spell from school a second time to learn it. You don't have to waste time struggling through dull Potions or making countless attempts like some idiot. You're clever people who understand at once. So why are our feet mired in foul mud?

Because a lot of useless trash who don't deserve to be one of us have slipped into our ranks. Those simple-minded idiots should be tied to stones and sunk in the Black Lake, where they can rot alongside the mud at the bottom.

The great revival of Slytherin begins today, with our awakening and rebirth. We'll no longer be a divided, weak, quarrelsome mass. We'll be a united force, purging ourselves of filth!

Salazar Slytherin was a great wizard, praised and admired a thousand years ago! Compared to the founders of the other three houses, Slytherin was the true model of what a wizard should be!

Cast aside unnecessary mercy. Pay no heed to what others think. We'll press forward without hesitation on the great road to success. Our goals are one, our beliefs are one. We will become the strong ones in everyone's eyes. The pursuit of success will remain our goal!

Glory will become the staircase that leads us higher. Ordinary people will raise their hands and offer it to us, because they'll have to admit that we're the ones who take the first steps that move the world forward!

We're living in a great age. We're about to welcome the third millennium, the most glorious in human history! If we stand still, we'll be trampled underfoot!

A thousand years ago, the Four Founders built Hogwarts, whose glory has endured to this day. A thousand years from now, we'll stand on the shoulders of the giant called Hogwarts and climb the next new stairway into the coming millennium!

Perhaps you've been lost, unable to see the path ahead. After graduation, you may end up at the bottom of the Wizarding World, trampled like blades of grass and living in a daze beneath the contemptuous eyes of others, running yourself ragged for a few Galleons. Or perhaps you'll repeat the old paths your parents walked, letting every bit of your brilliance and talent waste away in a dull life.

None of that is success. None of it is what a Slytherin should strive for!

Remember our responsibility. Pursue our dreams. Our belief in success will become the beacon that guides us. The glorious road lies before us. Don't lower your head and let the mud trip you up. Shake it off and climb those steps!

How should we punish these stumbling blocks who've infiltrated our ranks?!"

Ezio pointed his wand at the group still writhing in pain on the floor.

"I leave them in your hands."

"Show me your resolve, my fellow Slytherins who want to bring greatness back to our house. You can challenge me whenever you like. I'll defeat you, then guide you down the right path."

Make Slytherin great again!

Ezio clenched his fist and raised it high. A few scattered voices answered him, then gradually came together in a cry that made some people tremble with fear and others burn with excitement—

"Make Slytherin great again!!!"

Force could cow the courage of the clever; words could stir their ambition. Every student who entered Slytherin carried a real measure of ambition in their heart.