Chapter 15: The Slytherin Dungeon

Compared to the gloomy, quiet atmosphere of Slytherin, Gryffindor was the complete opposite.

One house was extremely restrained and repressed, while the other was brimming with energy and enthusiasm.

After the main course, the table was filled with a variety of desserts and fruits, including Hermione's favorite strawberry pudding.

Just as she placed a small bowl of pudding in front of herself and was about to dig in, a silver spoon swooped in and took a large portion of it.

"Doesn't Slytherin have its own food?" she blurted out before even turning around.

Because she knew who it was, her words were sharp.

"Don't you know the universal truth about food?" Nietzsche said with exaggerated seriousness, "The best food is always in someone else's bowl... even for me, that rule holds true."

"Have you come to the light side?" Hermione quipped.

"There aren't many Black wizards in Slytherin. In our year, it's only Blaise Zabini…" Nietzsche glanced toward the Slytherin table. Well, in a certain sense, it wasn't really "the dark side."

How strange it was, a Slytherin blending in with a group of Gryffindors, and seemingly fitting in well!

At first, the Slytherins had been eager to see Nietzsche get kicked out, but when they saw the two red-haired twins draping their arms around his shoulders, their expressions darkened.

Could someone please explain why the Sorting Hat had placed Nietzsche in Slytherin?

"Draco, what's his story?" asked a girl with explosively curly hair who sat down next to Malfoy. She had short black hair and a sharp, nasty tone.

She shoved aside another Slytherin sitting next to Malfoy, who didn't dare protest.

"I don't know, Pansy. You guys can have your fun with him. Just don't drag me into it," Draco said, raising his hands in mock innocence. "Maybe you'll teach him some reality."

Strength or influence—one of those was always necessary.

Malfoy didn't believe for a second that the Sorting Hat had placed him in Slytherin just because of his bloodline. On the contrary, people like him believed they were the true Slytherins.

"Lucien Bole already has a problem with him, but Gemma Farley, our prefect, doesn't want to get involved…"

"Enough." Draco reconsidered and added, "Don't go overboard. If things get too out of hand, Snape will notice."

"Actually, it was Goyle and Crabbe's idea," Pansy replied dismissively, flicking her hair and leaning slightly against Draco's shoulder. "We'll handle him."

If she could, she wouldn't mind teaching that Gryffindor girl a lesson too.

"Better to play it safe."

Goyle and Crabbe had already clashed with Nietzsche on the train, but since Draco wanted to recruit him, they held back.

As for Prefect Lucien Bole, he was disgusted by the sight of a Slytherin mingling with Gryffindors. The animosity between Slytherin and Gryffindor wasn't like the love-hate relationship between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

Malfoy didn't care. He just hoped Nietzsche Holmes would learn a valuable lesson: the weak need someone powerful to protect them, or else they'll wither under the sun.

"Ah, Slytherin has a promising batch of new students this year," Dumbledore remarked, his eyes twinkling as he noticed the lone Slytherin amidst the Gryffindors. "He's much more cheerful than you were, Severus."

Dumbledore nudged Snape with his elbow, clearly irritating him.

Yes, Nietzsche was just like his messy-haired father, carrying that same Muggle arrogance and disdain for wizards who had isolated themselves from society.

When Snape saw Nietzsche laughing and chatting with that Gryffindor girl, his inner agitation only grew.

"Hmph!"

"Wow, you've got guts, mate. I'm George Weasley, and this is my brother Fred Weasley," two nearly identical red-headed boys appeared behind Nietzsche.

One draped an arm around his shoulder, while the other slipped a few eggs into Nietzsche's pocket.

"You're Fred."

"What? You can tell us apart?" Fred gasped in surprise.

Nietzsche pinched his earlobe and replied, "Your ears are slightly different, though most people wouldn't notice… George, I don't plan on eating eggs before bed!"

George's eyebrows danced comically as he sneakily glanced toward the Slytherin table and chuckled mischievously.

"Listen, mate, those are stink bombs, not for eating. Tonight, you're bound to get some grief from those Slytherins. Consider this a gift from us to the bravest Slytherin."

Unlike their brother Ron, George and Fred didn't care much about house rivalries.

Either they liked someone, or they didn't—it had little to do with house loyalty.

Fred whispered, "If they work well, you can come back to us… 5 Sickles per set, and we only charge 10 Knuts for delivery."

Nietzsche got the picture.

They were in the small business of selling pranks. No reason not to sell to Slytherins too.

"Hold on, it's only the first day of school. We don't need to start any trouble," Hermione said, shielding the remaining pudding. Every time Nietzsche's spoon got close, she let out a warning growl. After the fourth time of swatting his hand away, she waved him off, annoyed.

It was like trying to swat a buzzing fly.

"If that's the case, you should head back… I'm perfectly fine! Don't get yourself in trouble on the first day. Don't forget, your Head of House doesn't get along well with Mr. Holmes."

"Hmm… I'm starting to understand why Sherlock's dad disapproved of Watson's marriage."

"I'm not your gi-girlfriend!" Hermione blushed furiously, ruffling her hair in frustration. "These aren't the usual people you used to beat up."

Hmm?

The Gryffindors smelled gossip!

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, along with the other girls, squinted their eyes, pretending to still be focused on their food, but their minds were elsewhere.

"And for the record, Watson and his wife didn't walk into a 'marriage chapel'—""—a tomb."

"Their lives were just beginning~""—heading straight for the end."

"They found new life!""The end of the world!"

"A happy home.""A lifelong trap."

As Nietzsche and Hermione engaged in their heated debate, the people around them deliberately quieted down.

Finally, Hermione, at her wit's end, shoved a large spoonful of pudding into her mouth, clinked the empty bowl, and glared.

"But none of that is the point! The point is… you, Nietzsche, need to be rational. I don't want to have to write to Watson's parents telling them their son was finally bullied at school."

"So, you are worried about me?" Nietzsche said, as if he'd had an epiphany.

Hermione opened her mouth to retort but, upon seeing his face, burst into laughter. A sudden confidence arose in her, and she regained her usual calm.

Even Nietzsche didn't know why, but her presence suddenly overpowered him.

"Your face…"

"Is there something on it?"

"It's red," Hermione confirmed with a nod. "You're right… I am worried about you."

A complete reversal!

In a battle of wits, victory often hinges on the smallest of moments.

The only way to defeat Nietzsche was through sincerity, and although Hermione knew it was self-defeating, as long as she could strike a decisive blow, it was worth it.

"Nietzsche, what you're doing is going to make you a target for Slytherin. I've heard from Neville and Ron that most of them are cunning and calculating. This time, I'm afraid you won't win like before."

Her hands were hidden in her sleeves, damp with nervous sweat, but she forced herself to maintain eye contact.

When Nietzsche's gaze started to shift evasively, Hermione finally exhaled in relief. Clearly, in his mind, she would never say something like that, or would simply ignore it.

"You're right, I'll go prepare…" Nietzsche mumbled, awkwardly shuffling back to the Slytherin table.

But after just a few steps, Hermione's face started to heat up too.

"Are you two a couple?" Parvati Patil asked with a teasing grin.

"Of... of course not! We're just friends!!"

"Friends... who happen to be a boy and a girl?"

"We're not friends! We're not!" Hermione felt flustered by their inquisitive gazes. "I only knew him from primary school."

Pavarti was about to ask more questions, but Lavender gently shook her head.

Some things shouldn't be rushed; it's more fun to uncover them slowly.

When Nietzsche returned to the Slytherin table and found an empty seat at the far end, the remaining desserts quickly disappeared. Dumbledore, the headmaster, stood up.

The hall gradually quieted down.

"Before classes start tomorrow, I need to remind all new students of a few important rules:

The Forbidden Forest is off-limits to all students. This applies especially to some of the more adventurous Gryffindors;

Also, Mr. Filch, the caretaker, would like me to remind everyone that magic is not to be used in the corridors;

Lastly, for those who wish to avoid a painful or untimely death, do not enter the right-hand corridor on the fourth floor. I believe Hogwarts already has enough ghosts; we don't need any more."

The four house ghosts, who had been floating nearby, bowed slightly in respect to Dumbledore.

"And now, before we retire for the night, let's sing the school song!"

Golden ribbons shot from the tip of Dumbledore's wand, forming lines of lyrics in mid-air. Nietzsche was subjected to the torturous experience of everyone singing in their preferred tune.

Nietzsche mouthed the words without making a sound, and used this moment to quickly observe the other teachers at the staff table.

One of them was this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who had his head wrapped in white cloth like a Persian turban. His gaze darted nervously around the hall, lingering on each table for only a few seconds.

"Slytherins, follow me."

After the song ended, a tall witch with long hair approached them.

Nietzsche and the other first-years followed the prefect, Gemma Farley, down the marble staircase and into the dungeons.

Everything around them had the atmosphere of a dungeon—constantly cold and damp—until the prefect stopped in front of a stone wall and said, "Pureblood." Just like the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, the wall split apart to form an archway.

"The Slytherin common room is behind the dungeon," Pansy said darkly. "Welcome to your confinement in Slytherin."

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