The shriek of "SLYTHERIN!" echoed off the stone walls. For a moment, no one moved. The Sorting Hat hadn't just announced a house; it had sounded terrified.
Then, from the table with the green and silver banners, applause began. It wasn't the loud, happy cheer other houses gave. It was slow and careful. The older Slytherins clapped, but they were watching him. It wasn't a friendly welcome. It was like they were sizing him up, trying to figure out this new, powerful-seeming boy.
Kaelen slid off the stool. His face showed nothing. He ignored Professor McGonagall, who quickly snatched the Hat off his head. He ignored Dumbledore, whose usually twinkling eyes now had a sharp, worried look. Kaelen just turned and walked toward the Slytherin table. He was perfectly calm, even as all the other students whispered about him.
As he walked, he scanned the faces at the table. He saw the house for what it was: a collection of groups and leaders. This was a house full of ambitious people. He didn't feel like he belonged, but he understood it. A place like this wouldn't just hide what he was; it would make him sharper.
He chose an empty space on the bench, sitting away from the other groups. Across from him, Draco Malfoy was staring, his face pale and angry. Next to Malfoy, the girl from the train, Daphne Greengrass, watched Kaelen closely, as if she was trying to figure him out.
"So, the orphan with no name ends up in the house of the noble," Malfoy sneered, his voice low and mean. He was trying to sound tough again. "Don't get comfortable. Blood will always tell. It's the only thing that matters here."
Kaelen didn't even look at him. He poured himself a glass of water, his movements slow and careful. "Is that what your father tells you?" he asked, his voice quiet. "A little story to make you feel better? To stop you from worrying that your blood is the only thing you have? That without it, you're nothing?"
He took a slow sip of water. His grey eyes finally looked up and met Malfoy's. "You should be careful. If you rely too much on your name, you'll never learn how to make one for yourself."
A sixth-year prefect sitting nearby choked on his pumpkin juice. Malfoy's face turned red with rage, but before he could say anything, Dumbledore stood up to give his welcome speech.
The Headmaster's speech was strange, but he seemed a little off. All through the feast, his eyes kept coming back to Kaelen, who just ate his food quietly. But there was another, more unsettling stare. The man at the Head Table with greasy black hair and a sour face was watching him. The Potions Master, Severus Snape, was staring at Kaelen with pure suspicion. It felt like his eyes were trying to poke into Kaelen's mind.
Kaelen felt the tiny push against his mental shields. He didn't show anything. He just met Snape's stare from across the hall. His own eyes were as cold and empty as a winter sky. His mind was locked up tight. They had a silent staring contest for a full ten seconds before Snape finally looked away with a small sneer.
When the feast was over, a tall prefect gathered the Slytherin first-years. "This way," she ordered. "And keep up. We don't have time for stragglers in this house."
She led them down into the dungeons. The air got colder and colder. While the other first-years huddled together, Kaelen felt like this was exactly where he was supposed to be. They stopped at a bare, damp stone wall. The prefect turned to the wall and said one, clear word: "Pure-blood."
A part of the wall slid aside, showing a dark entrance. The Slytherin common room was a long, grand chamber under the Black Lake. The light was a spooky, shifting green, coming from the water. Two massive windows looked out into the dark lake. Now and then, the shadow of a giant creature would drift by. It was fancy, powerful, and very cold. It was perfect.
Professor Snape was waiting for them, his dark robes making him look like a shadow.
"Welcome to Slytherin," he began, his voice a low, silky drawl that made everyone listen. "Forget what you may have heard. We are the house of ambition, cleverness, and leadership. We... don't always follow the same rules as the other houses. We do not tolerate failure. We do not tolerate showing weakness in public. It brings shame on us and gives our rivals"—his lip curled—"especially the Gryffindors, an advantage."
His black eyes swept over the small group of first-years, staying for an extra second on Kaelen. "The other houses will see you as dark. Let them. Their opinions don't matter. What matters is that you are strong. Here, you are a team. When you win, the House wins. When you fail, you fail alone. Protect your own, and never, ever give our enemies a reason to believe you are anything less than powerful."
He gave a final, dismissive wave. "Your dormitories are up the stairs. Girls to the left, boys to the right. Do not be late for class tomorrow." With that, he swept away.
The boys' dormitory was a round room with five four-poster beds, each with green velvet curtains. Kaelen recognized his dorm mates: a still-angry Draco Malfoy, his two big shadows, Crabbe and Goyle, and another quiet, dark-haired boy named Theodore Nott.
Malfoy immediately claimed the bed closest to the fire. "This one's mine," he announced, trying to show he was in charge.
Kaelen ignored him. He walked to the bed farthest from the others, in the darkest corner of the room. It was a good, quiet spot. He began to unpack his trunk.
"Don't you hear me? I said—" Malfoy started, walking over to him.
Kaelen turned, so fast that Malfoy actually flinched. "I heard you," Kaelen said, his voice dangerously quiet. "I just don't care. You needing to claim the 'best' bed just shows how insecure you are. It's pointless."
He turned back to his trunk, completely dismissing him. Malfoy was left standing there, his fists clenched, totally defeated. Theodore Nott, watching from his own bed, let a tiny, almost invisible smirk touch his lips before hiding it behind a book.
Later, lying in the darkness, Kaelen listened to the quiet sounds of the dorm and the gentle lapping of the lake against the glass. He wasn't a boy in a new school. He was a soldier on a new battlefield.
Snape was a threat, but he could be managed. Dumbledore was a powerful player, but Kaelen didn't know what he wanted yet. Malfoy was a pawn, easy to annoy. Greengrass and Nott, however... they were quiet. They were smart. He would have to watch them.
He had entered a house that valued ambition and cunning. They prized leaders. He closed his eyes, a plan already forming. The other Slytherins based their power on their family names and their money. That wasn't real power. This house was waiting for a new leader, one who built his power not on a name, but on real skill.
A slow, cold smile touched his lips in the darkness. He would not just survive in this snake pit. He would become its king.
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