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Leading the Slytherins was a sixth-year prefect named Goren Bower. Word had it he also served as the president of the boys' student council. Following Goren's lead, the new students stepped onto a floating staircase and descended deeper underground.
"People in the wall paintings along the way gave them sideways glances and chuckled."
After heading down for quite some time, they finally arrived at a basement-like room. At the far end of the room stood a damp stone wall. They stopped in front of a hidden stone door built into it.
"Glory is my name," Goren said, facing the door.
With a loud click, the stone door began to turn, slowly revealing the Slytherin common room to the fresh-faced first years.
It was a semi-transparent lounge located under the lake. The walls were made of black Gothic marble, and the ceiling was a crystal-carved transparent dome, shimmering with the wavering reflections of water above.
Green-glowing lamps hung down from chains overhead. A carved fireplace sat against one wall, surrounded by intricately designed chairs. Sometimes, giant squids or strange underwater creatures could be seen swimming past the windows.
Once the first years were told to wait in the common room, Goren stepped out. Not long after, he returned with a group of older students in tow—eleven of them, aside from Goren: six girls and five boys, each wearing a proud, almost arrogant look. They studied the new students like hawks sizing up prey.
"Alright," Goren clapped his hands to get their attention. "As you can see, these people are our Slytherin shadow prefects.
Unlike the usual Hogwarts system, where prefects are appointed starting in fifth year, we in Slytherin go for a more precise and efficient approach—every year has its own prefect, chosen from within by... dueling.
The one who comes out on top becomes that year's shadow prefect. Each of the eleven people standing before you is the undisputed duel champion of their year. Now then, first-years... are you ready?"
The new students stared at the obvious dueling circle marked off to the side of the room and fell silent. Clearly, no one wanted to be the first to step up—especially the Muggle-borns, who might not have even mastered basic spells yet, let alone fought in a duel.
"Seriously? Are this year's newbies really this useless?" grumbled a pale student with a huge frizzy hairdo, standing among the eleven older students.
"Didn't I hear there's someone from the Julius family and a Malfoy kid in this batch? Where are they? Hiding?"
At once, all eyes turned to Malfoy and Augustus. Malfoy looked lost, glancing toward Augustus like he was waiting for him to decide what to do.
Augustus noticed the stares and realized there was no escaping this. With a helpless shrug, he stepped into the dueling circle.
Finally, someone had stepped up. That sparked a bit of interest among the other first years, and soon, a student named Moyan stepped into the ring to face him.
"Alright," Goren said from the edge of the circle, eyeing the two students drawing their wands. "On my count. One, two, three—Begin!"
As soon as he finished speaking, Moyan raised his wand, starting to chant. But before he could even get the spell out, a silver beam shot silently from Augustus's wand, striking Moyan square in the chest. Moyan flew out of the ring and slammed into the ground—completely petrified, like a statue made of stone. The sound of his landing echoed loudly through the room.
"Wait, what? That was... nonverbal magic?!" a cute red-haired girl among the older students cried out in disbelief. "Are you telling me that first years can already do nonverbal spells?"
No one answered. The entire room was stunned, jaws practically littering the floor.
"Ahem," Goren gave a few awkward coughs, like he felt he had to say something. "Well... very impressive, Augustus. That was a fine demonstration of advanced nonverbal casting. Moyan unfortunately lost. But the duels must go on.
Who's next?"
The red-haired girl gave Augustus a curious glance, then turned to look at the rest of the new students with a wicked grin. She was clearly enjoying the show. "Challenge someone like that? What a death wish," she seemed to be thinking.
"I say we just name Augustus the shadow prefect already," Malfoy suddenly said, looking around smugly. "I mean, nobody's dumb enough to take him on. Am I right, guys?"
Goren gave a disappointed look at the huddled group of new students. Most of them had their heads down, and even the few who dared to look up avoided making eye contact. Then he looked at Augustus, who stood calmly in the ring like he hadn't just one-shot someone. Goren sighed silently, thinking the selection process was over.
But just as he was about to announce the result, Augustus spoke up. "Hold on, Prefect Goren. Don't declare the result just yet. I'd like to challenge the rest of the so-called duel champions.
If I lose, then you can pick someone else."
Goren raised an eyebrow. Before he could speak, the pale guy with the frizzy hair—who had mocked the new students earlier—stepped forward.
"Kid, just because you know nonverbal magic doesn't mean you're untouchable. If you want a lesson in respecting your elders, I'll be happy to give it."
Goren's face darkened a bit. He knew Augustus came from the Julius family—powerful blood, strong background. Making him shadow prefect would be ideal in both status and strength. But if he walked into Slytherin on his first day and started throwing down with older students, it could mess with house discipline. Maybe letting him get knocked down a peg wasn't a bad idea.
He asked seriously, "Are you sure you want to challenge the current shadow prefects?"
Augustus nodded calmly. "Absolutely."
"Alright then. Cook, you're up. Show Augustus what a real Slytherin shadow prefect can do!" Goren called out, pointing at the pale fourth-year, Cook—one of the stronger duelists among the eleven.
But then Augustus tilted his head and said with a smile, "I think you misunderstood, Prefect Goren. I said I want to challenge all the shadow prefects. All eleven of them. Not just Cook."
The room went dead quiet.
Everyone stood frozen, their brains scrambling to process what they'd just heard.
Was this real? Were they dreaming? Had they gone crazy, or had Augustus?
This one first-year wanted to take on all eleven of Slytherin's top duelists—the elite fighters of the house, each crowned as a dueling king or queen of their year?
A strange tension began to fill the air. All eyes were on Augustus. Whether it was arrogance or a death wish, the sheer audacity of it left everyone stunned.
Somehow, Malfoy's gaze turned feverish. Staring at Augustus's small, solitary figure standing opposite the eleven upperclassmen, calm and composed as ever, he felt a chill of excitement.
In that moment, Augustus's silhouette began to overlap with a figure Malfoy had only seen in his imagination—a man who had once plunged the wizarding world into chaos, a man whose very name inspired fear, a man who had become a living legend.
It was as if time and space had blurred, and the ghost of that terrifying power was standing in front of him once more.
"Battle!" Malfoy clenched his fists in excitement.
"....."