Chapter 28: Into the Serpent's Den

The grand feast in the Great Hall had concluded, the students' chatter gradually fading as they indulged in the final bites of their desserts. Damian glanced around the hall, noting the different house tables with a keen eye. The camaraderie of Gryffindor, the quiet intelligence of Ravenclaw, the warmth of Hufflepuff—all seemed distinctly different from the collective aura of Slytherin.

As the plates vanished, leaving the tables gleaming clean, a tall, stern-looking fifth-year student wearing a green and silver prefect badge stood from the Slytherin table. His sharp eyes scanned the group of newly sorted first-years, who were gathered somewhat nervously together.

"First-year Slytherins, with me," he commanded in a voice that brooked no argument.

The first-years, including Damian, Daphne, Theodore, Lucien, and Stephen, exchanged quick glances before obediently rising and following the prefect out of the Great Hall. The older students at the Slytherin table watched them with varying expressions—some curious, others indifferent—but all with the silent understanding of what lay ahead for these new members of their house.

The prefect led them down a series of winding staircases, the torches casting long, flickering shadows on the stone walls. The air grew cooler, the atmosphere more subdued as they descended into the dungeons beneath the castle.

"Welcome to the dungeons," the prefect began as they walked, his voice echoing slightly in the narrow corridors. "You'll find that Slytherin House is uniquely situated. We're not in a tower or up among the clouds—we're firmly grounded. But don't mistake our placement for anything less than a position of strength."

As they turned a corner, the corridors began to change subtly. The walls were lined with dark, polished stones that absorbed the light rather than reflecting it, giving the space a dim, shadowy quality. The prefect continued his speech, offering tidbits of information about the castle.

"You should know that the dungeons are vast, and it's easy to get lost if you're not careful. The walls are filled with secret passages and hidden rooms. Stick to the main paths until you've learned your way around. Also, don't trust Peeves—he enjoys leading first-years astray for his own amusement."

The group nodded, absorbing the advice with varying degrees of anxiety and intrigue. Damian, however, felt a thrill of excitement. The hidden passages, the secrets of the dungeons—these were the things that called to him, the mysteries he was eager to unravel.

They finally reached a plain stone wall at the end of a corridor. It looked like any other, save for a small, intricate carving of a snake in the lower corner. The prefect turned to face them, his expression serious.

"This is the entrance to our common room," he explained. "You'll notice that unlike other houses, we don't have an obvious door. This is by design—Slytherins value privacy and security. The password to enter, for now, is 'basilisk.' It changes every fortnight, so be sure to keep up with the updates."

With that, he turned to the wall and uttered the word, "Basilisk."

The stone wall shifted, the snake carving glowing faintly as it slid open to reveal the entrance to the Slytherin common room. The first-years stared, a mixture of awe and anticipation on their faces, before stepping through the threshold.

The common room was unlike anything they had ever seen. It was grand and imposing, with low, arched ceilings and windows that looked out into the murky depths of the Black Lake. Greenish light filtered through the water, casting an eerie, ethereal glow over the room. The furniture was luxurious—dark leather sofas, high-backed chairs, and ornate tables, all set against the backdrop of tapestries and ancient, polished wood. A grand fireplace dominated one wall, the emerald flames crackling softly, providing warmth to the otherwise cool room.

The prefect turned to face them once more, his tone now authoritative. "Welcome to Slytherin House. You are now part of a house with a long and proud history, but that also comes with responsibilities. The outside world sees us in a certain way—ambitious, cunning, perhaps even ruthless. And while there's truth in those traits, there's more to us than just that. What you must understand is that here, we are family. We present a united front to the rest of the school, no matter what. Within these walls, you will find allies, mentors, and friends who will stand by you, but only if you show the same loyalty."

He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. "Slytherins must always maintain an appearance of strength and unity. Outside this common room, you represent our house. Any signs of weakness or disunity will be taken advantage of by others. So, while we may have our disagreements, while we may compete with one another for glory and recognition, we must always support one another when it counts. Is that understood?"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, the first-years nodding solemnly. Damian felt a sense of resolve harden within him. He knew the expectations placed upon him as a Peverell, but now, those expectations extended to his role as a Slytherin as well.

The prefect stepped aside as Professor Snape, their Head of House, entered the room with his robes billowing behind him. His presence immediately commanded silence, his dark eyes surveying the group with a mixture of sternness and approval.

"Welcome to Slytherin," Snape said in his low, measured tone. "You have been placed in this house because you possess qualities that we value—ambition, resourcefulness, determination. But let me make one thing clear: Slytherin House is not just about personal success. We thrive when we work together, when we push each other to be better. You will find that your time here will be demanding, but it will also be rewarding if you are willing to put in the effort."

His gaze swept over them, lingering briefly on Damian, as if gauging the measure of the young wizard. "As your Head of House, I expect nothing less than excellence from each of you. But know that I will also support you, guide you, and ensure that you have the tools you need to succeed. However, do not mistake this for leniency. You will be held to the highest standards, and any failure to meet those standards will not be tolerated."

The first-years remained silent, absorbing the weight of Snape's words. The gravity of their new situation settled over them, the realization that they were no longer children but young witches and wizards on the path to greatness.

Snape stepped back, and the prefect stepped forward again. "There is one more thing you should know," he said. "Within Slytherin House, we have our own hierarchy. At the top is the Slytherin King or Queen and their court. They are the leaders of our house, the ones who set the tone and represent us in all matters. You will meet the current Slytherin King shortly."

As if on cue, a tall, imposing figure stepped forward from the shadows. The Slytherin King, a seventh-year with a commanding presence, surveyed the new arrivals with a critical eye. His expression was one of both scrutiny and curiosity, as if assessing their potential.

"Welcome to Slytherin," the King said, his voice smooth and confident. "As your King, it is my duty to ensure that Slytherin remains the most powerful house at Hogwarts. That power comes from each and every one of you. Over the next few years, you will learn what it means to be a Slytherin—to be strong, to be cunning, to seize every opportunity that comes your way. But remember, power is not given—it is earned. Prove yourself worthy, and you will find allies among the most influential witches and wizards in the world. Fail, and you will find yourself forgotten."

His words hung in the air, a challenge as much as a welcome. Damian felt the intensity of the moment, the unspoken promise of what could be achieved if he played his cards right.

"Now," the King continued, "you will find your dormitories through that corridor. Each of you has your own room—consider it a privilege, one that must be earned and maintained. Get some rest. Tomorrow, your journey begins in earnest."

The first-years nodded, the weight of the evening's events settling over them as they made their way toward the dormitories. The corridor led to a series of single en suite rooms, each door marked with the name of its occupant.

Damian paused at his door, his hand resting on the handle. The events of the day played through his mind—the sorting, the speeches, the expectations. But there was also a thrill, a sense of anticipation for what was to come.

He entered his room, finding it furnished with dark, elegant furniture, a four-poster bed draped in green and silver, and a large window that looked out into the murky depths of the lake. The room was comfortable, yet it carried the same air of solemnity that seemed to permeate the entire castle.

As Damian settled into bed, his thoughts drifted to the future. The challenges that awaited him, the friendships that would be forged, and the power that could be his if he played his cards right. This was the start of something new, something exciting. And for the first time in a long time, Damian felt a sense of belonging—a place where he could truly be himself, where he could grow into the wizard he was meant to be.

He closed his eyes, the flickering green light from the lake outside casting shadows on the walls. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, and new opportunities.