A Predictable Division

"You are well-suited for Ravenclaw..."

"And you are suited for Hufflepuff..."

"But I cannot do that, for you crave knowledge to become strong, your surface-level friendliness is a shield to protect yourself, and the freedom you yearn for is not an escape from this world..."

"You understand what I am saying, don't you, child?"

"Huh?" Breeze looked blank. According to the Sorting Hat, was he supposed to go to Slytherin?

"Yes, child. I am sorry, I cannot give you the perfect House... Of course, you are not actually suited for the Slytherin of today; perhaps the Slytherin of a thousand years ago would have been your choice... That was when Slytherin was truly composed of noble wizards."

Breeze's sorting took a long time, drawing the attention of everyone in the hall.

"Slytherin!"

The professors remained silent, but Dumbledore pondered for a moment, a flicker of worry crossing his eyes. Snape, meanwhile, paid no mind to Slytherin, as his gaze was fixed on Harry Potter, leaving him unable to consider anything else for the moment.

Draco Malfoy, his face flushed as if he had swallowed a fly, muttered, "A guy who wanted to go to Ravenclaw ends up in Slytherin, and oh, he's a Muggle-born too. That hat must be insane; it should be burned. How detestable!"

Hearing this, the surrounding Slytherins lost their friendly expressions. Those who had been preparing to applaud lowered their hands, and some even cast hostile glares at Breeze as he walked toward their long table—especially Pansy Parkinson. This girl did not like Breeze at all, even if he was very good-looking.

As for the other Houses, particularly the girls, many were disappointed that such a handsome junior had been sorted into Slytherin.

The entire hall fell into an eerie silence, for while the other three Houses offered scattered applause to welcome Breeze to Hogwarts, not a single person in Slytherin clapped. No, wait—there was one.

"Clap, clap, clap..."

It was Draco Malfoy. As Breeze passed him, he whispered, "Welcome, little crow. Tsk, you should go to the back row; your mud-blood stench will make us lose our appetites."

Little crow—yes, Breeze, who had expressed a desire for Ravenclaw, had already been labeled a little eagle. But since Slytherin was the domain of "Dark wizards," and Breeze had read books and reports stating that most Dark wizards graduated from Slytherin, the label stuck.

For instance, the second Dark Lord—the mysterious one.

Breeze sat in the back row of the Slytherin table, expressionless. Ignoring the worried looks from a few friends, he wondered how he could survive seven years in Slytherin and graduate smoothly, given the House's terrible reputation.

"Harry Potter!"

Perfect. Now no one was paying attention to Breeze, which allowed him to breathe a sigh of relief; he was not used to being the center of so much focus.

A buzz of conversation erupted around the hall. After all, this was Harry Potter; many young wizards had grown up hearing his stories, even if he was just a child himself.

Harry Potter walked up, gathered his courage, and placed the Sorting Hat on his head. It was clear that Harry was muttering something to himself... The Sorting Hat seemed to deliberate for a long time before shouting, "Gryffindor!"

"Woo-hoo!" The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers.

Harry Potter let out a sigh of relief, happily took off the hat, and headed toward the Gryffindor table.

Next was Ron Weasley. The red-haired boy joined Gryffindor as expected, which made Hermione, sitting nearby, grit her teeth in annoyance. She unhappily changed seats with someone else just to get further away from Ron. However, Ron's older brothers were all delighted, and even the fastidious Percy stepped up to congratulate him.

Only McGonagall, standing to the side, looked at that dazzling red hair with utter helplessness. Those two red-headed twins were already mischievous enough to cause her endless headaches. Since McGonagall was the Head of Gryffindor, and the greasy-haired man at the teachers' table was the Head of Slytherin, it made things even more miserable for Breeze, who had little love for Potions.

Snape, however, looked at Harry, his eyes filled with complexity. Many knew that Snape had once worked for the Dark Lord, but Dumbledore had protected him. Yet, he had only gone to Dumbledore in the first place to save Harry's mother, Lily, hoping Dumbledore could rescue her, but...

Lily was dead, leaving behind only the child she had with James Potter—Harry Potter. It was all his fault!

The pain made Snape afraid to look at Harry again, for those eyes were just too much like Lily's. But apart from the eyes, everything else was too much like James—the man who had been his lifelong enemy!

Taking a sip of wine, Snape turned his head, only to see a flash of complexity in Dumbledore's eyes. Following his gaze, Snape realized he was looking at the head-bowed Breeze.

At this moment, Dumbledore stood up, a joyful expression on his face, and spread his arms wide. "Welcome!"

"Welcome to Hogwarts for another year! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

"Thank you all."

After Dumbledore sat down, warm applause filled the hall, and the tables suddenly filled with food: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and for some strange reason, mint humbugs.

Beside Snape, a man with a turban wrapped around his head, looking like an Indian hat, stammered in a low voice, "I, I perhaps feel, h-honored to have taught the Boy Who Lived."

Snape snorted through his nose, looked at him, and drawled in a low, cold voice, "Perhaps you should consider whether you can survive the year, rather than worrying about the Boy Who Lived, Professor Quirrell."

Professor Quirrell gave a sheepish laugh, not knowing how to respond, and simply lowered his head to eat.

Breeze was already hungry. He silently began to enjoy the food; as for other matters, he would deal with them when they arose. He didn't feel like worrying in advance—things were already bad enough. Everyone around him, whether new students or old, avoided him, or even... despised him.

Suddenly, many ghosts emerged, though no one around seemed to care—or rather, the Slytherins didn't care. They always maintained their etiquette, which was tied to their upbringing; they were expected to know that ghosts existed at Hogwarts, and having seen them once before, they were not about to be impolite.

Once everyone had eaten their fill, the food vanished along with the chatter, and the plates became clean, for dessert was about to appear.

This time, the sound of conversation spread. The young wizards who had just entered Slytherin were mostly talking about their family backgrounds, while the older Slytherins were discussing the new students. Most of the talk, however, was about Harry Potter. Of course, they dared not discuss the Dark Lord, especially in such a setting.

Compared to the younger students, these senior Slytherins were more reserved, appearing more cultured, calculating, and calm. At the very least, few directed hostility toward Breeze; most simply ignored or overlooked him.

At most, they felt Breeze's presence was an eyesore.

Just then, the sound of a goblet being tapped rang out. It was Dumbledore.

Dumbledore stood up again and said to everyone, "Oh, now that we are all fed and watered, I must say a few more words. At the start of the term, I have a few notices to give you. First-years should note that the forest on the school grounds is forbidden to all students. Some of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore looked at the Weasley twins; those two were certainly not easy to manage.

"Also, Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to remind you all that no magic should be used in the corridors between classes."

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House team should contact Madam Hooch."

"Finally, I must tell you that if you do not wish to meet an accidental and painful death, do not enter the corridor on the third floor on the right-hand side."

"Now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore announced loudly. With a flick of his wand, a long, golden ribbon spiraled out from the tip, twisting and coiling high above the dining tables like a serpent to form lines of text.

"Everyone, choose your favorite tune," Dumbledore said. "Ready, sing!"

Once the school song had concluded, the students were led by their prefects back to their respective house common rooms.

The Slytherin dormitories were located in the dungeons on the lower level.

"Why the dungeons? It feels like being a prisoner," Breeze whispered. He followed slowly behind, having regained his composure. He had no intention of trying to change his house, though he had never heard of it being possible to transfer houses at Hogwarts anyway.

But, thinking about it from another perspective, unexpected turns of events were quite interesting.

I can't always have things go exactly as I wish.

The line ahead came to a halt; it was the Slytherin prefect speaking to the new students—or rather, the young wizards.

"The password is 'Pureblood.' It changes once a week unless there are special circumstances. I expect you not to forget it."

As the password was spoken, the door swung open. Breeze walked silently into the common room, while some finally stopped bothering to hide their hostility toward him.

"Ahem, this is Slytherin. I expect you all to keep our rules in mind."

A tall, blonde girl stepped forward to stand before the first-years, effectively stifling any thoughts the younger students might have had about causing trouble for Breeze.

"Right, I am Jennifer Carrow, a fifth-year Slytherin prefect. I won't bore you with unnecessary details; they are all written on the Slytherin code of conduct on the wall. However, you must remember this: Slytherin values power and status. You must weigh for yourselves what kind of power befits what kind of status, and what kind of actions are appropriate for your position."

"As for everything else, our Head of House, Mr. Severus Snape, will explain it to you shortly."

Having finished, she stepped aside. Just then, the door suddenly opened, and a tall man dressed in black robes walked in. Breeze looked at his shoulder-length, greasy black hair and voluminous robes, and for some inexplicable reason, the thought of a greasy giant bat crossed his mind.

"I believe..." Snape paused in front of the group of first-years. He first glanced at Malfoy, who was at the front with his head held high, and gave a nod. Only then did he sweep his gaze over the rest of the group. His gloomy presence seemed to chill the air, leaving everyone afraid to breathe, feeling exceptionally stifled.

When his gaze swept over Breeze in the far corner, he paused...

Thank you for your understanding; all explanations will be provided in the story to come.

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