He Definitely Belongs in Slytherin!

"Do you know which House you'll be sorted into? I've been asking around everywhere. I hope I get into Gryffindor—they say it's the best. I heard Dumbledore himself graduated from there, though I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad either."

Inside the compartment, Hermione had given up on discussing books with Damon and turned to chatting with everyone about other things.

Just as she was chattering away, the compartment door was suddenly pushed open, and three boys walked in.

One had a pale face, long light-blond hair, and delicate yet sharp features. The other two were short and fat, and particularly ugly to boot. Standing on either side of the pretty boy, they looked exactly like his bodyguards.

"Is it true?" he asked. "Everyone on the train is talking about how Harry Potter is in this compartment. So that's you, right?"

"Yes," Harry said. He looked at the two fat boys beside the other boy, and they reminded him of his cousin Dudley. He instinctively disliked them. What were these three here for?

"Oh, this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle." Seeing Harry looking at them, the pale boy said casually, "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

As he spoke, he looked around at the other three students in the compartment.

Hermione carried a familiar Muggle air about her, and a contemptuous, mocking expression unconsciously appeared on his face. But when his gaze shifted to Damon, he became somewhat hesitant.

As for Neville, Malfoy did not even spare him a glance, dismissing him outright.

Everyone present immediately sensed his attitude, and Harry's brows furrowed instinctively.

Malfoy turned to Harry and said, "You'll soon find that some wizarding families are far better than others, Potter. You wouldn't want to make friends with the wrong sort. I can help you with that."

He held out his hand for a handshake, but Harry ignored it.

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks," he said coldly.

Draco Malfoy did not blush, though a faint flush rose on his pale cheeks.

"If I were you, Potter, I'd be very careful," he said slowly. "You ought to be more polite, or you'll end up on the same path as your parents. If you keep hanging around with unsavory people, they'll rub off on you."

Hermione's face flushed red with anger at those words, and she stood up at once.

Harry was equally indignant and could not help saying, "Say that again!"

"Oh, you want to fight, do you?" Malfoy sneered.

Crabbe and Goyle arrogantly cracked their knuckles as they stared at the three of them.

"Oh? I can't pretend I didn't hear that."

Damon, who had been smiling as he watched the conflict unfold, slowly rose to his feet. Hermione could not help glaring at him. At a time like this, how could he still be so relaxed?

Yet at the same time, she hesitated. Were they really going to fight in this compartment? That was against the rules. She had only just started school—how could she leave people with such an impression? If the professors found out, wouldn't that be terrible?

"What, you think you're tough?"

Malfoy looked at Damon with a hint of provocation in his voice. When his eyes fell upon Damon's handsome face, he suddenly recalled the commotion Damon had caused on the train earlier and said with undisguised jealousy:

"Anyone who sits with a Muggle can't be anything noble. Just a Mudblood—if you've got the guts to fight, then come on!"

"Do you feel honored, Malfoy, using filthy words whose meaning others don't know to insult people?"

The corners of Damon's lips curved slightly as his teeth clenched, lending his expression a hint of ferocity.

Hermione and Harry stared blankly at Damon, unable to understand what had happened. Only Neville flushed bright red, yet could not say a single word.

Crabbe and Goyle cackled as they stepped past Malfoy, only to suddenly see a wand in Damon's hand. They froze at once, and the smile shifted to Damon's face.

"I'll remember your assessment of me. But now, you'll have to pay the price for it."

As Malfoy and the other two began to shrink back in fear at the sudden appearance of the wand, Damon swung his wand without hesitation.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Three precise, decisive shots in a row.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The three fell one after another. Damon's incantation had also stirred up the train, and quite a few young wizards poked their heads out to inspect the situation outside, seeing Malfoy and the other two lying stiffly on the floor.

Soon, some Slytherins recognized Malfoy and approached with furrowed brows, shouting:

"Who used Charms on a Slytherin student? That's despicable!"

Harry, who had just been cheering and pumping his fist at Damon's impressive spellcasting, suddenly froze. He instinctively exchanged a look with Hermione. Were they going to be in trouble?

Damon lightly stepped over them, walking across Malfoy's body and out of the compartment. Looking at the large crowd of students gathering around, he said with a smile:

"Slytherin? He hasn't even enrolled yet, has he?"

"Y-you're a first-year?"

Seeing that Damon had not yet changed into robes, the group of older students hesitated.

"That's right. This is a first-year matter. Are you upperclassmen planning to bully younger students?"

"So what? Malfoy is destined to join Slytherin. Insulting him is insulting us!"

While the others were still hesitating, a fourth-year student with ties to the Malfoy family directly drew his wand and pointed it at Damon. "You must pay the price!"

"You can try."

Damon smiled, gripped his wand with both hands, and gave a duelist's salute before taking up a fighting stance.

Shock appeared on the Slytherin's face. After returning the salute, he braced himself.

"A wizarding duel?! A first-year against a fourth-year!"

The students on the train erupted completely. The Gryffindors in particular had already begun running around to spread the news!

"Shameless Slytherin is fighting a first-year! Shameless Slytherin is fighting a first-year!"

That truly stirred up a hornet's nest. Even students who had been sitting in their compartments, uninterested in the commotion, began pouring out. But all they heard was a powerful shout and saw a figure flying through the air.

"Expelliarmus!"

With that incantation, the fourth-year's wand was instantly blasted from his hand. The tremendous force sent his body flying as well, and he crashed heavily against the side of a compartment before sliding to the floor.

His face was pale as he sat sprawled on the ground, utterly stunned.

No one had expected things to develop so quickly.

The students gathered around stood dumbfounded. None of them had expected a first-year to subdue a fourth-year so easily!

And that had been a Slytherin! Though they were underhanded and dark, no one could deny that they possessed considerable magical skill. Yet a first-year had defeated a fourth-year senior just like that!

Damon slowly walked toward the fourth-year, lowered his head to glance at the wand he had dropped, and said with a hint of teasing in his voice:

"Is this the price you were talking about?"

"You—" The fourth-year's face turned red with rage. But in the next moment, as though he had thought of something, the anger on his face vanished completely, replaced by a strange expression.

The same was true of the other little snakes present.

At first, they had only felt that their House had been insulted and had even been ready to gang up on Damon and teach him a lesson. But then someone suddenly shouted:

"He's a first-year? He hasn't even been sorted yet?!"

The little snakes' fury was like a bucket of cold water dumped over their heads, extinguished in an instant and replaced by the refreshing delight of summer.

Powerful! Confident! Elegant! And he was an unsorted first-year?

He was clearly Slytherin's future first-year leader!

"He definitely belongs in Slytherin! Stop fighting—we're all on the same side!"

They helped the fallen student to his feet, their eyes shining as they looked at Damon. They could practically see what things would be like after Damon joined Slytherin!

Just then, the young wizards who had been watching the show suddenly erupted into commotion again:

"The prefects are here!"

"What are you all doing?! No shouting on the train!"