The Hogwarts Welcoming Feast had no special activities other than eating, drinking, and singing the school song.
When the feast ended, the prefects led the new students back to their respective house common rooms.
Having been kicked hard twice by Caelan, Chris limped along at the back of the line.
“What happened to you, Mr.
Nott?” McGonagall asked.
Hearing a professor ask about his injuries, Chris felt an overwhelming surge of grievance.
He opened his mouth to denounce Caelan’s violence, already imagining Caelan being put in detention.
Before he could speak, however, Caelan stepped out from nowhere and supported him.
“There’s no need to worry, Professor McGonagall.
Mr.
Nott merely sprained his ankle.” Chris felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave, unable to say a word.
After offering the explanation, Caelan put on an expression of deep concern.
“Mr.
Nott, would you like to visit the hospital wing?” Though the words sounded warm and caring, Chris clearly felt the hand gripping his arm suddenly tighten like a vise, biting into his flesh.
A threat—a blatant threat.
“I’m fine, thank you, Mr.
Prewett,” Chris managed to say.
“That’s good.
Let’s get going then.” Caelan didn’t forget to bid farewell to McGonagall.
“Goodbye, Professor McGonagall.” Watching Caelan’s retreating back, McGonagall felt both pleased and deeply regretful.
How could such a model student end up in Slytherin?
Nott felt intensely humiliated and wished he could scream at the top of his lungs: *Professor!
He’s pretending!
Don’t trust him!* Only after they were well out of McGonagall’s sight did Caelan release him.
“Mr.
Nott, you’d better not do anything foolish.
Though of course, you’re welcome to try,” Caelan said with a gentle, innocent smile like an innocent little boy.
“Only next time, my price will be higher.” Once Caelan walked far ahead, Nott gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath.
His eyes then fell upon the prefect at the head of the group.
William Rowle happened to be an acquaintance of his; the Rowle and Nott families maintained close relations.
He calculated in his mind that once they returned to the dorm, he would ask William Rowle for help to give Silas Prewett a proper lesson.
True Slytherins didn’t care about rules against attacking classmates.
And a mere first-year couldn’t possibly be a match for a prefect!
Thinking of this, Chris felt a sudden surge of confidence; his leg didn’t hurt as much, and his posture straightened right up.
…
Unlike the towers of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, the Slytherin common room was located in the dungeons.
The prefects led the new students down a long, winding stone staircase.
The farther down they went, the darker and quieter the atmosphere became.
Even though more torches were placed along the way, there was still an unshakeable chill in the air.
Caelan couldn’t help thinking that it was fortunate spells like Scourgify existed.
Otherwise, clothes would never dry in the Slytherin common room.
After descending the long staircase, the first-years finally arrived before a damp, blank stone wall.
Prefect William Rowle held his head high, so high that the new students could barely see anything except his nostrils.
“To enter the common room, there’s no need to knock or use specific magic, but you must speak the password correctly.” Looking down his nose at everyone, William called out the password: “Pure-blood.” Upon reciting the password, a hidden stone door materialized in the wall.
Following the prefect into the common room, Caelan let out a quiet sigh of relief.
The Slytherin common room was not the cold, damp place full of soggy seaweed and rotting mud he had imagined.
It was a long, luxurious underground room.
The walls and ceiling were constructed from rough stone, with green-glowing lamps suspended from chains attached to the ceiling.
Directly opposite the entrance stood an elaborately carved fireplace, where a crackling fire was burning, keeping the entire common room warm and dry.
The most striking feature was the common room’s large window.
Looking through it, one could see the rippling waters of the lake outside and various strangely shaped aquatic creatures swimming by.
The chairs and tables in the room were exquisitely made, exuding an air of lavish wealth.
This wasn’t surprising.
Many of Hogwarts’ school governors came from Slytherin, so their common room naturally wouldn’t be shabby.
While the new students toured the room, Nott and William whispered together off to the side, casting glances toward Caelan every now and then with mocking smiles on their faces.
“Prewett, although we’re all pure-blood families, I should remind you that there are tiers among pure-bloods.
After all, some families don’t have many members left, and I do hope they manage to survive.” William walked up to Caelan, smoothed Caelan’s collar with mock elegance, and looked down at him condescendingly.
“Oh, by the way, I’ve placed you in the same dorm as Nott.
If he bullies you, feel free to come find me.” *Of course, I’ll join him in bullying you, you fool,* William mocked internally.
“Prefect William, I got your name right, didn’t I?” Caelan brushed his hand away and shook his head.
“To be honest, I’m quite disappointed.” “Disappointed?” William looked puzzled.
Noticing the movement over here, several nearby first-years slowly gathered around.
Malfoy was also drawn over, quickly gesturing for his two cronies to join him and watch the show.
“Slytherin disappoints me.
I thought this place was full of shrewd, ambitious figures, but I didn’t expect to find useless garbage boasting about their birth,” Caelan said in an unhurried tone.
“Inherent privileges aren’t worth bragging about.
Only glory and authority snatched by force and cunning deserve admiration.” As he spoke, Caelan glanced intentionally or unintentionally at Chris.
The implication was unmistakable.
“Arrogant fool!” With the prefect backing him up, Chris grew bold.
Dropping his timid act, he whipped out his wand, intent on teaching this arrogant fellow a lesson.
As a pure-blood wizard, he had been immersed in magic since childhood and had learned a few spells before school started.
However, Caelan was faster.
With a swift combination of wand motion and incantation, Caelan released a Cutting Charm with effortless precision.
“Diffindo!” Chris Nott’s hair instantly fluttered into the air like autumn leaves, leaving him virtually bald.
Horrified, Chris froze mid-wave, his wand dangling uselessly.
As a new student who had previously treated magic as nothing more than a toy, his body locked up completely when faced with real combat.
Counterattacking was out of the question.
Equally frozen was Prefect William Rowle beside him.
As a prefect, William had some combat experience.
He quickly recognized that Caelan hadn’t cast a high-level spell, but a simple Cutting Charm.
It was a minor charm recorded in *The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1*, known by almost everyone at Hogwarts.
However, its effectiveness depended heavily on the caster’s skill and focus; it could be used for crude destruction or for extraordinarily delicate cutting tasks.
With trembling hands, William touched his own collar.
His intact collar had been sliced open at some unknown moment, leaving a faint red line on his neck.
He didn’t doubt for a second that if it had gone a millimeter deeper, his artery would have been severed.
Yet Caelan had controlled it perfectly.
How much time and energy did it take to master a simple basic charm to such an extent?
William didn’t know; he only knew Caelan was definitely not as easy to deal with as he appeared.
Was this the strength a first-year should possess?
Even searching through all the alumni records of Hogwarts, it would probably be hard to find a genius who could match him.
Offending someone like this for a fool like Chris Nott was simply not worth it.
The onlookers burst into laughter upon seeing Nott lose his hair.
A few keen-eyed students who recognized that Caelan had used the Cutting Charm were secretly astonished.
Advanced magic tests talent; basic magic tests foundation.
To use a basic charm to such a degree demonstrated an extraordinarily deep foundation.
Even Malfoy had to privately admit that this Prewett guy was probably only slightly weaker than himself.
The crowd’s laughter and the rage of losing his hair drove Nott nearly out of his mind.
He yelled at the prefect, “Let me get him with you!” William swiftly drew his wand.
“Expelliarmus!” Bang!
Chris flew back in an arc before the crowd, crashing into a chair as his wand flew from his hand.
Dizziness washed over him, making his head spin.
“Prefect, what are you doing?” William cursed in his heart.
*You idiot!
You utter moron!
Couldn’t you see he held back on purpose?!* *Trying to drag me down with you!* *What an absolute fool.* “Mr.
Prewett, I believe this is a misunderstanding,” William said, switching to a forced smile, his voice trembling slightly.
“Slytherin welcomes you.” “The prefect is right, it’s all a misunderstanding.” Caelan glanced at Chris, walked up to William, stood on tiptoe, and elegantly smoothed his collar.
“Hey, look, my hand slipped and I tore your collar, Senior.
After all, I’m just a first-year who hasn’t quite mastered spell control.
You don’t mind, do you?” “Not at all, not at all, it’s a minor matter,” William nodded hastily.
His pupils trembled as he stared at the hand beside his neck, feeling as if a venomous snake were slithering across his skin.
He was terrified and shaking, yet he didn’t dare move an inch.
Caelan offered a radiant smile.
“Don’t worry, Senior, I’ll fix it right up for you.” Waving his wand, Caelan cast a Repairing Charm.
“By the way, that’ll be one Galleon.” The corner of William’s mouth twitched.
*Can’t I use a Repairing Charm myself?* *And he’s actually charging a Galleon!* Yet looking at Caelan’s smiling face, he didn’t dare refuse.
He shakily pulled out a Galleon and placed it in Caelan’s hand.
Having paid to avoid disaster, William just wanted to leave immediately.
However, before he could take two steps, Caelan called him back.
“Mr.
Nott doesn’t seem very keen on sharing a room with me.
I’ll take on the inconvenience—I’ll sleep on the bed tonight, and Mr.
Nott can sleep on the common room sofa.” “Of course, no problem,” William agreed without hesitation.
Who cared where that idiot slept?
With a flick of his wand, Caelan threw Nott’s luggage out the door.
From start to finish, neither of them bothered to ask Chris for his opinion.
“Oh, I just remembered, Mr.
Nott still owes Mr.
Longbottom an apology,” Caelan said, smiling at Chris as he stumbled to his feet.
“And my twenty Galleons—that was our bet.” “I never agreed…” Chris stammered weakly.
“If I say you bet, you bet,” Caelan interrupted with a smile, extending his hand.
“Accept your defeat.
Pay up today, and go apologize tomorrow.
Got it?” “We said ten Galleons back then!” “I also said back then that my price would be higher.” Chris looked toward William, only to find the prefect hastily looking away, pretending not to see anything.
Realizing he couldn’t rely on him, Chris felt both furious and terrified.
Despondently, he pulled out a coin pouch.
Caelan counted out twenty Galleons and tossed the pouch back to Chris.
He couldn’t help marveling at how rich these pure-blood wizards were—a random student carried this many Galleons on him.
“Goodnight, Prefect William.
You may leave now,” Caelan said.
William twitched his lips, managed a strained “Goodnight,” raised his head high, and walked away stiffly.
Caelan returned to his dormitory and unpacked a bit.
The Slytherin dormitory was quite large, and with only two students per room, it felt especially spacious.
The exquisite four-poster bed was hung with green silk drapes, and even the bedspread was dark green, embroidered with intricate silver snakes.
Caelan was very satisfied.
This was miles better than the orphanage.
Stretching his arms, Caelan walked to the window and looked out at the giant squid swimming past.
Slytherin really wasn’t bad at all.
The people here were polite, spoke pleasantly, and were quite generous.
I really love it here.