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A thousand candles hung from the ceiling of the Great Hall, bathing every corner in brilliant, fiery light.
Jiang Fengyue sat at the long bench, fingers tapping the table without thought, his expression giving nothing away.
He let his gaze drift sideways to Aegles.
The black-haired, pockmarked boy sat quietly in his seat.
The wand he’d briefly produced was gone, tucked away again.
He ought to be grateful Aegles had pulled that stunt, actually.
At least those restless little serpents would not dare breathe a word about hunting the Dark Lord in front of him.
Not tonight.
Not for a while.
It saved him considerable headache.
For the rest of the opening ceremony, Jiang Fengyue kept his expression cold and his mind mostly elsewhere.
He rose with the crowd for the Hogwarts school song, listening to several hundred students sing it in several hundred different keys.
He didn’t open his mouth.
Aegles, behind him, didn’t either.
Professor McGonagall called the new students’ names one by one.
Jiang Fengyue watched without focus as their robes flushed red, yellow, blue, and silver-green, the last group a smaller portion than the rest.
That last group came rushing to his table, then sat as far from him as they possibly could.
Headmaster Dumbledore rose, as he always did.
Jiang Fengyue made himself pay attention, taking in the greatest white wizard of the age: half-moon spectacles, deep blue eyes behind them, a snow-white beard that covered most of his face.
“I welcome every new student here today, and of course our dear older students as well.
I hope you will come to understand magic and to master it here at Hogwarts.
But remember — courage is a quality you must carry with you for the rest of your lives.
As you lose yourselves in books, do not forget to gain friends.
In keeping your loyalties, do not forget to think.
And in your ambitions, do not forget your dignity.”
This same white wizard had spent that morning at the Ministry, sitting through a hearing on whether he should be removed from office.
Now here he was in the evening, placid as ever, looking at each student with the same quiet warmth.
“I sincerely hope you will find true friendship here — the kind of friend who supports you for a lifetime.
Of course, students below sixth year should not be in any great hurry to find love.
It’s still rather too complicated for you.” The old wizard winked.
Scattered laughter rippled through the hall.
Children who don’t understand love are always fascinated by it.
Alice and Frank in Gryffindor exchanged a small smile.
Sirius threw an arm proudly around both James and Lupin at once, while Lupin’s hand still rested on Peter’s shoulder, and James was quietly stealing glances at Lily across the room.
At the far end of the Slytherin table, a boy with lank, greasy hair was doing the same, watching the red-haired girl in another house.
“…I hope each of you will never forget where you came from.
But more than that, I hope you will be careful and clear-eyed about where you are going.” Dumbledore’s voice settled over the hall.
From somewhere behind him, Jiang Fengyue caught a sound: the faintest, thinnest snicker, barely audible beneath the noise of the hall.
Dumbledore had already sat back down, raising his goblet to clink softly against Professor McGonagall’s.
The enchanted sky overhead had come alive with light.
The house-elves’ feast materialized all at once, plates rising into mountains before every student, Yorkshire pudding as soft and round as clouds, mashed potatoes heaped into creamy white peaks, the richness of the food glittering against the magic in the air until the whole hall seemed to glow.
Knives scraped against porcelain.
Laughter spilled out, too large to contain.
Unlike the other three houses, Slytherin was quiet.
Even the first-years understood it: when you enter a nest of snakes with no blood between you, you keep still, and you keep your tongue in your mouth.
Jiang Fengyue had no appetite.
He took a small portion of seafood risotto and didn’t finish that.
He lifted his lemon-almond cordial and glanced toward the staff table.
Professor Slughorn caught his eye immediately, and that round, ruddy face broke into a wide smile.
Squinting, the professor raised his white wine toward Lucius and toasted him from across the room.
When Lucius responded, Slughorn looked as though he might burst with pleasure, and took small, self-satisfied sips.
Jiang Fengyue held the goblet stem loosely, letting the rim rest against his lower lip.
He tipped his head back slightly, his throat moving beneath smooth skin in silence.
Through the fringe of his lashes, at that unhurried angle, he watched the person beside him without appearing to look at all.
Aegles had a strong appetite.
He was already working through his third steak.
He’d even had a piece of rum cake, which was sweet enough to make your teeth ache.
The last mouthful of almond cordial slid down his throat.
Dumbledore picked up a silver spoon, tapped his glass, and waited until the hall quieted.
“I hope you all get a good rest on your first night of the new term at Hogwarts, because tomorrow your studies begin in earnest.” He paused.
“Oh — and one more thing.
Nighttime wandering is strictly forbidden.
If our caretaker, Mr.
Filch, catches you, do mind your house’s gemstones.
Follow your prefects back to your dens, my dear children.”
Jiang Fengyue stood.
The moment he did, every eye in the serpent’s nest found him.
He was hard not to look at, all cool composure and platinum hair, and the admiring gazes came from all directions.
Tonight the undisputed center of attention in Slytherin was the Malfoy heir.
Every first-year serpent stared at him with open awe.
Those who hadn’t finished eating put down their knives and forks without being told.
“All new students, form a single line and follow me.” Flat, unhurried, final.
The little serpents scrambled into line like a huddle of bewildered young animals, stumbling after the platinum-haired lead as he made his way down toward the dungeons.
The Slytherin dormitory lay beneath the Black Lake, reached through a long carved passageway in the rock.
Torches lined the stone corridor at equal intervals, burning steadily in the dark.
A stone door stood across the path and waited.
“Glory.”
A deep grinding sound came from within the wall.
The stones slid smoothly apart, opening into an arched passage.
Jiang Fengyue turned to face them.
“That is the password for this week.
If you forget it, you can spend the night outside with the merpeople.”
A ripple of unease moved through the new students, then settled just as quickly.
“Oh.”
The hiss went through them the moment they stepped inside.
The common room was impossible not to react to.
The floor was covered with dark green velvet, deep and intricate underfoot.
Wide sofas and armchairs were arranged in clusters throughout the room.
The fireplace took up the entire far wall, enormous, almost absurd in its scale, its orange-red flames giving off steady, even warmth.
But the ceiling was the thing that stopped them cold.
Not an enchanted starry sky.
The real Black Lake, directly above.
Dark green water rippled silently overhead, lit from within by some dim, diffuse light.
Shadows moved through it now and then, the long, unhurried shapes of merpeople.
The little serpents watched as the Malfoy heir turned to face them.
He paused for just a moment, then offered them something close to a smile.
“Welcome to the serpent’s nest.”
A stout figure came busy in from the other side, robes elaborate and dark, a small jeweled pin at the collar.
Slughorn, Head of Slytherin, arrived with his cheeks flushed and his small eyes already darting across the first-years, cataloguing them, almost visibly, for bloodline, for talent, for potential usefulness.
“Aha!
Welcome, welcome, my dearest children!” Slughorn’s voice boomed with outsized warmth.
“You have been chosen.
Sorted into the most ancient, most noble house, the house of strategic wisdom!”
His voice dropped, conspiratorial now.
“Remember this, children.
We value blood, but blood must be paired with achievement.
We value ambition, but above all, we look after our own.
We support one another.
We create a brilliance that belongs to Slytherin alone.”
Flushed with the passion of his own speech, Slughorn turned and dropped a proud hand onto Lucius’s shoulder.
“Look here, the sole heir of the Malfoy family, my finest protégé!
He will be your prefect and your leader.
Anything you don’t understand, you may come to me.
Or go to him first, I’m certain Lucius will never refuse to help any of you!”
The bewildered first-years shifted their gazes back to the platinum-haired boy, their expressions somewhere between reverence and infatuation.
Jiang Fengyue detached himself from that plump, heavy hand without comment.
Slughorn was still going.
Jiang Fengyue caught Narcissa’s eye, she was standing off to one side, visibly struggling not to laugh.
“Narcissa, take over from here.
Get them sorted into their dormitories.” He passed her the roll-book.
“I’m doing rounds.”
“Of course.” Narcissa let the laugh out now, light and genuine.
“Seeing as the esteemed Lucius would never refuse to help me.”
➤ Next: Is This Real?