The Hogsmeade station buzzed with feverish excitement as new students, suitcases in hand, hurried towards the Hogwarts Express. Marius Rosier walked slowly, almost calculatedly, never meeting more than a few fleeting glances. He did not seek to draw attention, preferring that the mysterious aura surrounding him work for him in the shadows.
He felt within him a magic older and deeper than anything he had known so far, even though most of this power remained dormant, veiled by the body he now inhabited. Yet, his instincts told him he was no longer the simple, unremarkable child others believed him to be. Marius had learned patience; he knew that everything would come in its own time.
Upon his arrival in the great hall of Hogwarts, the scents of wax, old wood, and magic filled the air. The tables of the four houses stretched before him, bathed in the light of floating candles. The Sorting Hat awaited, perched on a stool, ready to call the new students.
When his name was called, he stepped forward with confidence, sitting on the stool calmly. The Sorting Hat spoke to him in whispers that only he could hear: "Thirst for power... shadow to master... difficult choice... Slytherin."
Marius let himself be placed in this house where the dominant traits were ambition, cunning, and determination. He then blended into the green and silver crowd, welcoming the mixed looks of curiosity and mistrust.
His first days were a careful mix of calculations and precautions. He still needed to be accepted, to make a name for himself without arousing suspicion, and above all, to preserve himself. He slowly approached certain students, sorting among them the most interesting, the most influential, or the most powerful. The Rosiers were not unknown in this house, but Marius preferred not to rely solely on that name. He wanted his own empire.
The classes offered valuable training ground. Marius paid close attention to his professors' teachings, quickly assimilating the basics, the theory, and discreetly experimenting whenever the opportunity arose. Defense spells, potions, transfiguration... he learned everything with an intensity rare for his age. He was sometimes frustrated by the slowness of Muggle methods, but he knew how to adapt.
In the corridors, he avoided unnecessary confrontations, preferring to observe the rivalries of the other houses from afar. Away from prying eyes, he analyzed James Potter and his friends, the loud and self-assured Gryffindors, who seemed to be forging unbreakable bonds. He did not consider them direct adversaries for the moment, but he knew they represented a force to be neutralized in the future.
His ambition remained secret. He appeared polite, calm, almost unnoticeable, but every gesture, every word, was calculated. He established a complex web of influence and trust around him. He knew that at this stage, caution was his best weapon.
At the Slytherin table, his new allies wondered about this student who seemed to know more than he let on. Some, like Theodore Nott, looked at him with curiosity tinged with admiration, while others, more wary, remained on their guard. Marius let them believe he was still adapting, but he followed every word, every behavior.
When night fell, his dormitory became his sanctuary. He drew his strength there, conjuring forgotten incantations, blending the magic he knew from before with what he was learning here. Sometimes, a black fire danced in the fireplace, casting moving shadows on the walls covered with ancient parchments.
He was aware that every action would have repercussions, that the powerful wizards of the magical world would soon feel the stirrings of a resurgent force. But he remained invisible, a ghost among the living, slowly shaping his destiny.
Tensions at Hogwarts grew slowly. The most influential students from the four houses watched each other, each aware of the underlying rivalries. Marius perceived the fragility of these alliances and ancient hatreds. He knew he could use them to his advantage, fanning the flames at the opportune moment.
Over the weeks, he discreetly made contacts with certain students who shared his ideas or thirst for power, weaving a network of complicity that could become an army. But he did not rush. Patience was a virtue he had learned the hard way.
During a Defense Against the Dark Arts class, he noticed that some students were less talented than him, and he did not hesitate to use small spells to discreetly humiliate those who bothered him, while avoiding the attention of the professors. His gestures were precise, measured, like a game of chess whose rules he already mastered.
He also observed the dynamics of the professors, looking for flaws to exploit. He knew that knowledge was the key to power.
As the Christmas holidays approached, Marius sensed a subtle change in the air, like a tremor heralding something. The magic around him vibrated differently, denser, heavier. He knew that this first term was only the prelude to a larger storm.
For now, he remained that mysterious boy, polite, brilliant, but who hid behind his green eyes an unrelenting determination. His past was but a light veil, a shadow he never spoke of. The true Marius, the ancient and powerful sorcerer, waited patiently, calculating his rise to a power that would soon surpass that of the greatest wizards.