On the last day of September, just as dinner concluded, the seventh-year male and female prefects, Lucretius Burke and Narcissa Black, stood at the end of the Slytherin table, lightly tapping their goblets with silver spoons.
"All Slytherin students, please return directly to the common room after dinner." Narcissa rose gracefully. "First years, you must attend."
As her words fell, the atmosphere at the Slytherin table instantly changed.
The senior students exchanged knowing looks, and several fifth-year boys even revealed smiles of anticipation for a good show.
Students of pure-blood descent, especially the core scions of the ancient families, all wore expressions that said, "It's finally here."
Cuthbert Avery immediately set down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and a glint of excitement flashed in his eyes.
Hermes Mulciber slowly raised his head; his gloomy gaze swept over the faces of the prefects before finally landing on Regulus beside him.
Only Alex Rosier, the boy from a moderate pure-blood branch, blinked blankly and asked in a whisper, "What is happening? Why must we go back?"
Cuthbert sneered, making no attempt to hide the superiority and slight pity in his tone. "Rosier, your family didn't tell you? Then again, your family... hmph.
"This is tradition, the Slytherin welcome program. To see which of the little snakes entering this year has the sharpest fangs."
Alex's face paled slightly; he evidently understood. He looked uneasily at Regulus, then at the other few new students.
The commotion here even attracted the attention of the other three houses; they whispered among themselves, with older students explaining the tradition unique to Slytherin to the younger ones.
Regulus felt more than one gaze cast upon him from the staff table; what caught his attention was that one belonged to Dumbledore.
At the same time, gazes came from the Gryffindor side as well, Lily Evans, James Potter, and Sirius. He did not respond, but simply rose in silence.
When everyone filed into the common room deep underground, the atmosphere was completely different.
Emerald green flames danced in the fireplace, illuminating the dark green hangings and silver decorations, as well as the dozens of faces with varying expressions within the room.
Senior students gathered in twos and threes around the sofas and armchairs, talking and laughing in low voices, their eyes scanning the ten newly arrived first years.
The first years subconsciously huddled together, yet subtly divided into several small groups.
The core pure-bloods, Avery, Hermes, and the like, naturally stood together, their expressions either arrogant or gloomy.
Meanwhile, the other few new students, including two half-bloods, a boy and a girl, looking nervous and wearing slightly plain robes, appeared isolated and helpless.
Their eyes scanned the crowd frantically before finally, as if by agreement, landing on Regulus.
Over the past month, Regulus's behavior had been starkly different from that of the other high-born pure-blood young wizards.
He possessed none of that deliberately displayed arrogance, never participated in the mindless disparagement of bloodlines or backgrounds, and treated classroom questions and group assignments with rigor and fairness.
In the eyes of those freshmen outside the core pure-blood circle or from ordinary backgrounds, this second son of the Black family was virtually the only person among the Slytherin first years who could be considered reasonable and reliable.
At this moment, they subconsciously edged closer to where Regulus stood, as if doing so could provide a faint sense of security.
Regulus sensed this subtle reliance, but gave no indication; he simply walked calmly to the edge of the open space in the center of the common room and stood quietly, his gray eyes sweeping across the room.
"Quiet." Lucretius Burke walked to the fireplace, his voice not loud but his expression solemn.
The common room fell silent immediately.
"Old rules," he said concisely. "First years, duel in pairs. No restrictions on spells, provided you can cast them, and so long as it doesn't cause Madam Pomfrey to give us trouble.
"The purpose is for you to know yourselves, and to know others. Slytherin respects power, and respects the wisdom to harness that power."
No sooner had he finished speaking than low murmurs and sneers arose among the surrounding senior students.
"Bets are open, bets are open!" A sixth-year boy grinned, pulling out a small notebook. "Wager on which rookie will be the last one standing this year, odds are up! I'm putting ten Galleons on the Black kid."
"Rubbish, is that even worth betting on?" A girl next to him rolled her eyes. "Look at him, does he look eleven to you? I bet he can take down every opponent in under three minutes."
"I wouldn't say that," another seventh-year boy with glasses adjusted his frames, feigning an analytical air. "That Mulciber boy has a nasty look in his eyes, and his family is rumored to have some rather obscure collections.
"And the Avery boy isn't exactly a pushover either."
"Oh, come off it. Look at the way Black is standing there." The sixth-year boy who had spoken first gestured with his chin.
"The others are either shaking with nerves, overexcited, or trying too hard to look tough like Cuthbert.
"Now look at him, it's like he's standing in his own study waiting for tea to be served. I'm raising my bet: his robes won't even get creased."
These discussions drifted clearly to the ears of the first years; Cuthbert's face flushed slightly upon hearing them, a mix of excitement and anger.
Alex grew even more nervous, his fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of his robes, while the two half-blood students went pale.
Hermes remained gloomy, his gaze upon Regulus growing sharper.
As for the subject of the discussion, Regulus, he simply stood there quietly, his face devoid of expression.
"Now, we draw lots to determine the first round of opponents." Narcissa produced a small silver cup filled with slips of parchment.
The results came quickly: Alex was paired with a similarly nervous boy from a branch pure-blood family.
A half-blood girl drew Cuthbert and instantly turned paler, while Regulus drew another pure-blood boy who, upon seeing the slip, looked as if he were about to cry.
"Wait."
A low voice spoke out.
Hermes Mulciber stepped out from the crowd, looked at the two prefects, and then turned his gaze to Regulus. "I request to duel Regulus Black."
The common room went silent for a split second, followed by a louder hum of chatter. Requesting a change of opponent wasn't common, but the rules didn't forbid it, provided both parties agreed.
Lucretius raised an eyebrow and looked at Regulus. "Black?"
Everyone's eyes focused on him.
Regulus looked at Hermes; there was no provocation in the other boy's dark eyes, only a near-paranoid seriousness and something suppressed.
He recalled the smell of burning in the dormitory after a late-night return, and the dark red book with no title.
"Acceptable." Regulus nodded calmly, then added, "However, since we are proceeding one by one, we can wait until the end. Let the others finish their matches first."
The boy who had been swapped out looked as if he had been granted a great pardon; he nodded hurriedly and scurried to the side.
The other freshmen had no objections; anyone could see that the duel between Regulus and Hermes would likely be on a different level than the others.
The two prefects exchanged a glance and nodded. "Very well. Then we begin with the other groups."
The duels began quickly; the open space was cleared, and the perimeter was crowded with spectators.
Alex and his opponent were practically like two incompetent chicks pecking at each other; both were so nervous that they stumbled over their incantations, and the light of their Disarming Charms flew askew.
In the end, Alex lost because he tripped over his own feet in his panic, drawing a round of laughter.
Cuthbert had a much easier time against the half-blood girl; he used a beautiful Impediment Jinx to knock her off balance, followed immediately by a precise Disarming Charm to end the fight, earning nods from several senior students.
The other groups were much the same.
As Regulus had observed, first-year students, even the young wizards carefully cultivated by pure-blood families, possessed magic that was still immature at this age, with weak control and practically zero combat experience.
The content of The Standard Book of Spells was already a subject requiring arduous practice for them.
The Disarming Charm, Impediment Jinx, Jelly-Legs Curse, Locking Spell, Full Body-Bind Curse, Fire-Making Spell... to cast these most basic practical spells fluidly and hit the target accurately was considered impressive among their peers.
But for Regulus, these spells posed no difficulty whatsoever.
Any spell requiring only precise gestures, clear pronunciation, and basic magical guidance was something he could learn almost at a glance, and master with only slight practice.
His powerful magical control and calculation abilities were enough to bridge the gap created by age, allowing these basic spells to demonstrate stability and power in his hands that far exceeded that of his peers.
Of course, magic was far from that simple.
Spells requiring strong emotional drive, involving the understanding of complex concepts, or necessitating special talents and mediums remained areas he needed to study and delve into.
After several rounds of duels, the new students were thoroughly exhausted; some were excited, others despondent. Finally, only Regulus and Hermes remained standing in the center of the open space.