The single word "Slytherin" did not seem to attract much attention on the surface.
But among the few who knew of Star's talent and background, expressions visibly cracked.
All except Alroth—and Dumbledore.
Alroth had already learned certain details in advance from Mr. Reed.
Alice's eyes widened into perfect circles, utterly unable to believe that she had failed to enter Slytherin—while Star had been sorted there instead.
If Star wasn't in Gryffindor, then what was the point of her going there at all?!
Professor Sprout—Head of Hufflepuff and Herbology professor—looked openly regretful. She had hoped Star would join Hufflepuff. If both siblings possessed that kind of miraculous talent, what a blessing that would be.
Professor Snape's expression darkened considerably.
"Antioch" was not a surname most people recognized.
But Snape did.
When he had first enrolled at Hogwarts, he had witnessed Lucius Malfoy being thoroughly beaten by Mr. Reed.
Dumbledore, observing from afar, caught the utterly numb expression on Star's face—"I've mentally flatlined" written all over it—and let out a soft chuckle.
He had long expected Star would go to Slytherin.
It was simple.
Star resembled Mr. Reed in his youth—brilliant, aloof.
The only difference was that Star had grown up in a warm family.
Because of that warmth, Star himself had never noticed the traits he shared with Mr. Reed.
Especially his talent—the ability to sense elemental forces even while still weak. That indicated a wizarding bloodline of remarkable purity, one that traced frighteningly close to the mythic age of ancient wizards.
If such a pure-blooded seedling didn't go to Slytherin—where else could he possibly belong?
Star himself was still dazed.
What was wrong with this Sorting Hat?
It hadn't even given him the chance to argue!
How did he qualify as Slytherin material?!
Compared to the enthusiastic welcomes in the other three Houses, Slytherin's reception was noticeably subdued.
"Antioch? Has anyone heard of that wizarding family?"
"No."
"Never."
"I think there's a Ravenclaw girl with the surname Antioch. Supposedly half-blood."
"So that means this Star Antioch is either half-blood or Muggle-born?"
"Probably."
"Tsk~"
"Heh."
The Slytherins exchanged information in hushed tones, their voices laced with faint mockery.
Students from the other Houses looked at the lone Star with sympathy.
A wizard not from a pure-blood family entering Slytherin—that was the usual treatment.
At the staff table, Snape felt a headache brewing.
He had the distinct feeling another Antioch was about to dominate Slytherin.
The last Antioch had been forced to fight from first year all the way to graduation because of remarks like these.
The one in Ravenclaw was reportedly just as unruly. Professor Flitwick had cleaned up countless messes for her—often with Professor Sprout dragged in to deal with the aftermath.
Most importantly—
Slytherin's House points!
Getting caught in internal duels meant deductions!
This time, however, Star was not entirely alone.
From the Ravenclaw table, Alroth's gaze drifted toward Slytherin.
She silently memorized every student who had mocked her brother.
Every single one.
She intended to settle accounts tomorrow.
Star was hers to bully.
If anyone else so much as touched him—
They would find her merciless.
Penelope's face turned pale as she grabbed Alroth's arm tightly.
"Alroth, don't act impulsively! School just started—we don't have enough House points yet!"
Alroth earned a lot of points.
She also lost a lot.
Alroth smiled pleasantly. "Impulsive? Of course not. At most, I'll let Devil's Snare loosen their muscles a little. Maybe toss them into a Graphorn nest for some cleaning duty."
Penelope nearly burst into tears.
That would be fatal!
Graphorns were rated XXXX dangerous magical creatures.
Several current school regulations regarding magical plants and beasts existed specifically because Alroth had either altered or inspired them.
For example:
— No fire-resistant mutated Devil's Snare curtains.
— No weakened-yet-still-hair-biting chomping cabbages used for haircuts.
The last person to have that kind of "honor" attached to their name was Newt Scamander.
The difference was that even without magical beasts or plants, Alroth herself was terrifyingly capable in a fight.
No one dared voice complaints.
Star quickly noticed the situation at the Slytherin table.
He calmly found an empty seat and sat down.
He had prepared himself for this the moment the Hat called out Slytherin.
"Dad really is frighteningly accurate… How did he guess I'd end up here?" Star recalled the conversation Mr. Reed had with him the day before school began.
Besides giving him three Galleons, Mr. Reed had taught him quite a few practical lessons about dueling.
Such as how to make someone experience intense pain without leaving visible injuries.
Or how to instill fear and the sense of impending death—without using Unforgivables.
Now it was clear.
Mr. Reed had predicted Slytherin—and had prepared him accordingly.
In truth, Mr. Reed's worry wasn't that Star would be bullied.
He was worried about the safety of the Slytherin students.
When Star had barely begun mastering magic, he had already made the Malfoy family wary.
If he truly went for the kill, few Hogwarts students could withstand his wind-pressure blade.
A fatal accident would be troublesome.
Compared to that, a few psychological scars seemed negligible.
At least, that was how Mr. Reed had comforted himself.
Once Sorting concluded, Dumbledore clapped his hands with a beaming smile.
"Welcome, first-years! Additionally, last year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Jess, has regrettably resigned due to injury.
Fortunately, we are joined this year by a new professor—Professor Ryan Lockwood."
A gentleman in a tailored suit and gray bowler hat rose gracefully from the staff table and tipped his hat to the students.
"Oh!" Gryffindor erupted first.
"This one looks reliable!"
"The last one was clearly dodgy—always wandering the Forbidden Forest and got his legs smashed by a wild boar."
Gryffindor's cheers spread to the other Houses.
Excitement filled the hall. At last—a seemingly competent Defense professor.
Star clapped politely a few times.
Dumbledore, satisfied, waved his hand.
"Let the feast begin!"
In a blink, the four House tables filled with food.
Roast chicken legs.
Roast potatoes.
Sausages.
Seared steak.
Smoked bacon.
Pumpkin juice.
Egg tarts…
Star frowned.
Now he understood why Alroth devoured food like a starving ghost whenever she returned home for holidays.
Everything was roasted or fried.
Too greasy. Too repetitive.
Once or twice was tolerable.
A full year of this?
He would develop an eating disorder.
A Slytherin boy leaned closer and whispered, "Eat now. If you don't, there won't be any left later. And ignore those people—they're not even pure-blood themselves."
Star looked at him. "You are?"
The boy glanced around before answering quietly, "Bart Parkinson. Second year."
"Thank you," Star replied softly.
He cut into a steak and chewed slowly.
Meanwhile, he was already considering when to visit Hogwarts' kitchens to teach the house-elves some Chinese culinary techniques.
Bread and roasted meat forever was a form of torture.
School had barely begun, and he already missed Mrs. Pepo's cooking.
Only Alroth truly understood that pain.
Penelope nudged her. "Your brother looks spaced out. Is he upset about being excluded?"
Alroth forced down a grease-heavy sausage and replied flatly, "He's missing Mum's cooking. Hogwarts food is terrible."
Penelope stared at the abundant feast. "This is terrible?"
At her house, meals were vegetable-and-beef stew or bacon-and-egg sandwiches. Cream stew was rare luxury.
Hogwarts felt extravagant.
Alroth closed her eyes in quiet suffering.
She had momentarily forgotten—Penelope was authentically British.
And Britain was a culinary wasteland.
Sometimes Alroth wondered—if Mrs. Pepo hadn't learned Cantonese cuisine in Hong Kong—would she and Star have been this culturally tragic in taste?
Unfortunately, both siblings had southern Chinese palates.
They rejected endless roasting and frying on principle.
After the feast, each House followed their prefects to their respective common rooms.
Slytherin's lay at the very bottom of Hogwarts.
Down a steep, winding staircase they went, stopping before an unremarkable stone wall.
Slytherin's female prefect, Millicent Birdes, addressed the group solemnly.
"Behind this is the Slytherin common room. To enter, you must know the password.
This month's password is 'Glory.'"
She spoke the word.
A lifelike stone serpent emerged from the wall, its back arching to form a doorway.
The first-years gasped in awe.
Millicent smiled and pushed the door open.
Inside stood a statue of a mermaid.
She gestured grandly.
"Welcome to Slytherin."
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Author's Note:
I'm back! 💛 Thanks for waiting—I had some personal stuff to handle, but now the story continues. Your support means everything, let's dive in!