"What? My parents were both in Gryffindor?"
Harry hesitated. He thought again of how Marius hadn't even spared him a glance earlier.
"Then… then I guess… Gryffindor it is."
The Sorting Hat shouted gleefully, "No problem! Gryffindor!"
After Harry, the Sorting Ceremony quickly wrapped up—some were overjoyed, some not so much. Professor McGonagall tapped the goblet on the table with her wand.
"Quiet down, everyone! The Headmaster would like to say a few words!"
All eyes turned to Dumbledore. He stood up, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses.
"I just want to say… Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
The entire hall, especially the first-years, stared at one another in confusion.
What on earth had he just said?
But that didn't matter. The real magic moment was finally here—the feast.
"Hey, do you know what that meant?" Pansy leaned in toward Marius.
To her, Marius had always been the know-it-all since childhood. He was never wrong.
"Forget it. Don't ask him," said Brunel Leif, the older boy who had given Marius a seat earlier. "He definitely doesn't know either."
"Yeah, he says that stuff every year," said another upper-year student sitting across from them.
"'Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak'—who knows what kind of madness he's on about?"
A round of laughter broke out around the Slytherin table.
Most were simply used to Dumbledore's eccentricities by now.
But Pansy still looked expectantly at Marius.
And he, taking his time, replied with perfect calm,
"Actually… although he's a troublesome old man, Dumbledore rarely says anything meaningless."
His words instantly silenced the laughter.
The surrounding Slytherins turned to him—some curious, some skeptical, all wondering what else he had to say.
Marius continued smoothly,
"'Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak'… If you translate those into Latin, and then rearrange them—what you get is the phrase, 'May Merlin bless you all.'"
That stunned them into complete silence.
No one knew Latin, so none could confirm whether he was bluffing or not—but his confidence left them deeply unsettled.
How was it that this first-year knew more than most upper-years?
Before anyone could respond, Marius raised his goblet with elegance, a small but brilliant smile on his lips.
"In that case, as Merlin himself was a graduate of Slytherin, may he bless our House as well.
May our Slytherin ancestors ensure our House prospers forever."
His words effortlessly reignited the atmosphere.
Tension evaporated. Goblets lifted.
Students, both new and old, followed his lead.
"To Slytherin's enduring glory!"
"To Slytherin—forever strong!"
Cheers echoed across the Slytherin table once more.
From the other tables, students from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw all turned to look, puzzled and curious.
They couldn't quite figure out what had prompted the sudden chanting—only that it all centered on one boy:
Marius Cloud.
From the faculty table, Dumbledore smiled faintly and waved his wand.
"Now, it's time to sing the school song! Please, feel free to sing it in any tune you prefer!"
To Marius, this was nothing short of a disaster—even worse than the Sorting Hat's opening performance.
Every student sang the same lyrics… in completely different melodies.
In seconds, the Great Hall devolved into a musical catastrophe.
It was, once again, time for Marius to hand out earplugs.
This time, many Slytherin students gratefully accepted his thoughtful gift.
After the chaos ended, the long-awaited feast truly began.
Marius's aristocratic dining etiquette stood out immediately—each motion graceful, every bite dignified.
The students around him began to quietly guess his background.
No doubt about it—this boy came from a noble bloodline.
The kind of elegance he displayed couldn't be learned in a day—it had been bred into him from birth.
Once the meal ended, the Slytherin students were guided to their dormitory by a fifth-year prefect—a boy Marius recognized as Samuel Crouch from the Crouch family.
His grandfather, Bartemius Crouch Sr., was the Director of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.
They followed him down into the dungeons beneath the castle. Suddenly, Samuel stopped in front of a damp stone wall and recited:
"Caution is our creed, and ruthlessness our rule."
A grinding noise rumbled from within the wall.
Moments later, a hidden stone door revealed itself.
Stepping through the opening, they entered the Slytherin common room.
Nestled beneath the lake, it was a semi-transparent chamber with black gothic marble walls and a domed crystal ceiling—above which the shimmering surface of the water reflected gently.
Even Marius had to admit, "Damn, this place is impressive."
Luxury radiated from every corner—clearly the common room of an elite House.
Hanging from the ceiling were lamps glowing green—Slytherin's signature hue.
A huge fireplace roared in one corner, the intricately carved mantlepiece exuding both warmth and power.
Nearby were a few elegant carved chairs, and in one of them sat a single student.
He had short, neat brown hair, and nodded toward Samuel as he entered.
"Thanks for the help, Samuel."
Samuel nodded coolly. "This should've been your job, Jobbs."
Marius, who had been looking at the magical creatures floating outside the underwater window, nearly choked.
He blinked at the boy in the chair.
"Wait… Jobbs? You're telling me Steve Jobs went to a wizarding school? No wonder he could invent the iPhoner…"
"What are you talking about?" Brunel whispered beside him.
"That's Steve Jobbs—with two b's. He's the sixth-year prefect here."
Marius twitched.
The name was exactly the same in sound.
…Still, the real-world Steve Jobs would've been well into adulthood by now.
Probably just a coincidence.
Jobbs shrugged at Samuel's comment.
"I had to start prepping for the Shadow Prefect election, so I asked you to greet the new students in my place."
Shadow Prefect?
Marius's interest was piqued immediately.
A title with "shadow" in it… sounded like it was right up his alley.
Just what sort of House had he stepped into?
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T/N:
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