The male prefect's words were easy to understand — if the House Cup wasn't won this year, it was surely the fault of the first-year students.
After all, before you came here, we had already won the House Cup six years in a row. The moment you arrived, Slytherin lost the House Cup. It's not your fault as first-years, but can it be blamed on us, the so-called "elite" students who've been at Hogwarts for years?
The male prefect observed the first-year Slytherins, who were looking like they were about to face their doom, and nodded in satisfaction before beginning his self-introduction: "I'm Gregor Travers. As you can tell from my name, I'm a member of the 28 Pure-Blood Sacred Families, but I don't often flaunt it."
When he said this, Ivy noticed Malfoy puffing out his chest proudly, perhaps because being part of the 28 Pure-Blood Sacred Families made him feel a sense of accomplishment.
"As you all know, Slytherin is a house that places great importance on bloodlines. Therefore..." Travers continued with his pure-blood rhetoric, and Ivy heard him say, "We need to know your blood status, including whether both of your parents are wizards and if any of your direct relatives are Muggles. Of course, if your name alone tells me your background…"
Gregor Travers didn't continue, but everyone understood what he meant.
The moment Travers finished speaking, Malfoy took a proud step forward and loudly introduced himself: "Draco Malfoy, also a member of the 28 Pure-Blood Sacred Families. Pleased to meet you, Prefect."
Travers immediately put on a fake smile and shook Malfoy's hand.
Ivy shook his head, turned, and left the group, heading up the stairs to the second floor of the common room, where the dormitories were located.
"State your name, first-year! Where do you think you're going?" Gregor Travers noticed Ivy's movement, and it was hard not to notice him with his ever-glowing robe.
"Oh! He's Ivy Doom." Malfoy seemed completely taken aback by the situation, but explained to Ivy.
Travers immediately wiped the smile off his face, narrowed his eyes, and glared at Malfoy. "I believe you heard me correctly. I was asking him, not you, Mr. Malfoy."
"Doom, Mr. Doom?" the female prefect, Gemma Farley, called out to Ivy. She was a refined-looking girl with chestnut brown hair and a delicate face. Among the somewhat rough-looking Slytherins, she was a breath of fresh air. "Your silent levitation charm at the table was quite impressive, and of course, this robe is just as striking."
Ivy stopped and turned on the stairs, glancing back at Gemma Farley. "Thank you for the compliment, but it's getting late. I should head to bed."
"Hurry to bed to grow taller?" Gregor Travers smirked, "The silent levitation charm and this beautiful robe won't save you. As your prefect, I feel I must teach you the rules, Mr. Doom."
"Doom? Doom... Hmm, I haven't heard of that surname before." Gregor Travers kept speaking, "Perhaps it's inherited from some Mudblood family? But this beautiful robe is indeed a treasure. I hear it can transform into different outfits?"
"Tsk tsk~ Pity your bloodline doesn't match it." Seeing that Ivy didn't respond, Travers pressed on, "If I were you, I'd give it as a gift to some pure-blood family for protection. That way, maybe you could have a better time here."
Ivy shook his head and took a step back, turning to descend the stairs.
Golden light mist began to gather in his hand, and he conjured the Grimoire of Destruction. Flipping through the pages, he reached inside and pulled out a pair of ivory-white riding gloves.
As a trophy from his time in the Forbidden Forest over a hundred years ago, Ivy cherished these finely crafted, elegantly colored gloves.
Especially when using them to slap someone across the face.
"Slap!"
The gloves flew across half the common room and landed with a loud smack on Gregor Travers' face.
The previously ongoing low murmurs of conversation in the common room stopped completely, and everyone turned to watch the scene.
"Pick it up." Ivy didn't want his good mood from the day to end, so he decided to use some pre-sleep exercise to ensure he slept well.
"What?" Because Ivy's actions were so casual and completely unexpected, Travers froze for a moment and simply asked.
"Slap!"
As everyone knows, a pair of gloves comes in two parts. Ivy brought the other glove and slapped it across Gregor Travers' face.
"Travers! This is a dual invitation!" Seeing that Travers still hadn't reacted, a student watching from the crowd shouted, egging things on. Ivy couldn't tell what year they were from, but he didn't care.
"It's not just a duel invitation." Ivy corrected, "And it's not just directed at him."
Ivy scanned the whole common room, taking in the expressions on everyone's faces.
"Come on. This will be one of the few chances in your life to face me directly." Ivy drew out his light silver wand and ran his hand through his bangs. "You seem to love throwing around 'pure-blood' talk? Let me see the ambition and strength that your 'pure-blood' status gives you."
"You're just a first-year new student! Let's see where you get your confidence!" Travers finally snapped back to his senses, his eyes flashing with rage as he roared and drew his wand.
"Boring." A red light shot from Ivy's wand, blasting Travers back and crashing him into the wall, which was adorned with Slytherin alumni portraits. He fell heavily to the floor afterward.
Travers didn't make a sound throughout the entire ordeal because by the time he took the first hit, he had already lost consciousness.
The Slytherin upper-year students, who had initially been treating the situation as entertainment, couldn't hide their shock. While many could perform the silent levitation charm, very few could wield an offensive spell like the Disarming Charm so effortlessly.
"The strong set the rules, and the weak follow them." Ivy paced to the center of the common room. "Now, let me see what you're made of."