"Why not? You're an interesting person, and I'd love to meet you."
Sean glanced up from his plate, sizing up the speaker.
The boy was tall for a first-year, with sharp features and a confident grin that carried a hint of mischief, too knowing for his age. His easy charm and sly edge marked him as someone worth watching—Slytherin through and through, Sean thought.
He extended a hand, meeting the boy's firm grip. "Sean Bulstrode. And you are?"
"Blaise Zabini. Just call me Blaise."
Sean nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Alright, Blaise. Call me Sean. But aren't you worried about stirring up trouble with that lot?" He tilted his head toward Draco Malfoy and his cronies, who were glaring from further down the Slytherin table.
Blaise smirked, unfazed. "What can they do? Slip a snake in my bed? A frog, maybe? We're Slytherins, aren't we?"
Sean chuckled. Blaise had a point. Slytherins played smarter games than childish pranks. A real move—like a hex slipped in the shadows—carried heavy risks.
Hogwarts' rules were ironclad: a caught curse meant expulsion at best, or a one-way trip to the Ministry of Magic's holding cells, maybe even Azkaban for the worst offenses. No Slytherin, not even Draco, would gamble their future on petty revenge.
Unlike Gryffindors, who might charge headfirst into trouble, Slytherins calculated their moves. A skilled older student might risk a subtle jinx, but first-years? Never.
Blaise was sharp, his humor dry and his poise far beyond his eleven years. For Sean, whose own maturity outstripped his age, Blaise felt like a rare find—a potential ally in this snake pit, if not a friend.
A soft hiss interrupted his thoughts. Sean tugged at his collar, and Kulkan, his white snake, slithered out, coiling loosely around his neck. Its silvery scales glinted under the Great Hall's torchlight, its tongue flicking as it surveyed the room.
"Is that your pet?" Blaise asked, eyes lighting up.
"Yeah." Sean stroked Kulkan's head, and the snake nuzzled his hand, content. Blaise reached out, mimicking Sean, but Kulkan snapped upright, eyes narrowing. Its tongue darted, a warning hiss signaling an attack if Blaise pressed closer.
Blaise yanked his hand back, laughing ruefully. "It's gorgeous, but fierce."
Sean soothed Kulkan with a gentle touch, calming its coiled tension. "Kulkan took a while to trust me," he said. "I've got the teeth marks to prove it."
Blaise's gaze lingered on Kulkan, a mix of envy and admiration. To Slytherins, the rare, near-extinct white snake was perfection—elegant, dangerous, a symbol of their house's ideals. Boys at the table gave it passing glances; if they wanted one, their families could likely procure it.
But the Slytherin girls, catching sight of Kulkan's shimmering coils, were captivated, their whispers buzzing until a sharp clink silenced the hall.
Albus Dumbledore tapped his goblet, and the feast vanished—plates cleared in a blink, save for Goyle, clutching a turkey leg and a crumbling cake, and Crabbe, grease-smeared, gripping a pork knuckle.
The other Slytherins sat composed, their polished manners intact, waiting for the banquet's end.
Dumbledore rose, his presence quieting the Great Hall. "Before you retire, a few reminders," he said, voice carrying a gentle authority. "First, the Forbidden Forest is off-limits to all students, new and old. Trespassers will face consequences. Second…" He outlined rules, ending with a grave note.
"Finally, unless you wish to meet a tragic end or endure great pain, avoid the right-hand corridor on the fourth floor."
He paused, eyes twinkling. "Now, let's close with the school song!"
A collective groan rippled through the hall. Older students slumped, faces etched with dread, while even the professors' smiles stiffened, as if bracing for a hex.
The Hogwarts school song was infamous—a chaotic, tuneless ordeal. But Dumbledore's word was law. As he led the melody, a cacophony erupted, each house singing in clashing keys.
Slytherins, ever restrained, mostly mimed the words, lips moving silently.
Goyle and Crabbe, however, bellowed like banshees, their grease-streaked faces glowing with enthusiasm. Their off-key wails, a mix of funeral dirge and drunken shanty, made Draco wince, his expression pure misery.
Nearby first-years looked ready to flee. Sean imagined that, without Dumbledore and Snape's watchful eyes, half the Slytherin table would've jinxed the duo mute—Silencio, at minimum.
When the torture ended, Sean and Blaise exchanged weary glances, their ears ringing from the auditory assault. "How did those two end up in Slytherin?" Blaise muttered.
"Does the Sorting Hat just check bloodlines and call it a day? They'd fit right in with Gryffindor's lot."
Sean shook his head, a wry grin spreading. "That's the worst slander Gryffindor's ever faced."
Blaise laughed, a sharp, genuine sound that cut through the hall's fading din. As the prefects rose, the Slytherins stood in orderly fashion.
The new fifth-year prefects led, followed by Oliver Foley and the sixth-years, then the seventh-years, including the Head Girl—a poised witch whose authority silenced even the rowdiest Slytherins.
As the Slytherins rose to leave the Great Hall, the Head Girl, flanked by the seventh-year male prefect, cut through the crowd straight for Sean.
Her sharp eyes pinned him in place, her presence commanding despite the chatter around them.
She gestured briskly to the fifth- and sixth-year prefects—Oliver Foley among them—to lead the other Slytherins toward the common room, then turned her steely gaze on Sean.
"One hundred and ten points lost before the term even begins," she said, voice low but biting.
"A first for Slytherin, and you bear much of the blame. You will answer for it. Slytherin has claimed the House Cup six years running—our entire time as seventh-years. We want the seventh, a perfect streak. Publicly and privately, I expect you to make up for the points you cost us."
Sean met her stare, unfazed, and gave a slight nod. "My responsibility, I'll own it—but only what's mine. Fifty of those points are on me, though they should've been twenty. Since our head of house, Professor Snape, saw fit to inflate it to fifty, I'll cover those. By semester's end, I'll earn them back."
The Head Girl studied him, searching for bravado. Satisfied he meant it, she nodded curtly. "Hold to that promise. For those fifty points, I'll keep the older students off your back. Fail, and even after I graduate, trust me—I'll ensure your second, third, and every year after is miserable."
Sean's lips curved into a faint, defiant smile.
"No need for threats. When the points were docked, I already had a plan. Slytherin wasn't my first choice, but since I'm here, I'll restore those fifty points—even if Snape's the one who piled them on."
The Head Girl's mouth twitched, a flicker of unease crossing her face.
Sean's jab at Snape—Slytherin's untouchable head of house—was bold, reckless even. No Slytherin, not even the brashest pure-blood, dared criticize Snape behind his back. Sean had done it twice in one breath.
She cleared her throat, muttering, "Just make up the points," before turning sharply to rejoin the Slytherin line.
Blaise, lingering nearby, caught Sean's eye with a raised brow, his smirk barely concealed. Sean shrugged, falling into step beside him as the group descended into the Hogwarts Dungeon, the air growing damp and cool.
They stopped before a slick, featureless stone wall—the entrance to the Slytherin common room.
The seventh-year male prefect stepped forward, his voice clear. "This is our common room entrance. The password changes every two weeks. Check the notice board inside for updates. The current password is Snake Fang."
At his words, a round, arched stone door shimmered into existence, grinding open with a low rumble.
The prefects led the first-years through, and Sean's breath caught at the sight. The Slytherin common room was a cavern of rough-hewn stone, its Gothic arches and eerie statues casting long shadows.
Four tall, narrow windows glowed with lake-green light, the Black Lake's depths visible beyond. Strange shapes—merfolk, perhaps—flitted past, their silhouettes rippling through the glass.