The Great Hall was packed. It wasn't just students filling the space; the entire teaching staff was present as well, including Dumbledore and all the Heads of House. Every single one of them was an incredibly powerful wizard. And somewhere in the castle, likely clinging to the back of a professor's head, a noseless freak with a grudge was barely surviving.
Warren glanced toward the staff table, quickly spotting the man in the purple turban. This was definitely not the right time to claim his reward. That could wait until he was alone.
He dismissed the system panel. Ignoring the whispers and pointed stares from every corner of the hall, he walked calmly over to the Slytherin table.
Thump.
The loud crash silenced the room for a moment. Draco Malfoy had fallen off the bench. His face, already pale, had turned completely white. He scrambled up from the floor, not daring to look at Warren. His whole body trembled as he tried to scurry to the other end of the table.
Hi, Draco.
Draco froze mid-step. He turned around stiffly. "W-W-W-Weasley, sir."
You can call me Warren. We are in the same House now, so I hope we get along.
Warren patted him on the shoulder, and Draco flinched as if struck by a curse. He tried to smile, but the muscles in his face refused to cooperate. The result was a truly wretched grimace. He glanced at Crabbe and Goyle, his two cowardly thugs, who had their heads buried in their arms on the table, teeth chattering loudly.
At that moment, an older student wearing a prefect badge leaned in, clearly unable to stand it any longer. "Hey, Weasley. Sit down and stop causing trouble."
Warren looked him over. The student was big and burly with a completely forgettable face. Warren smiled. "Sure thing, Prefect."
The prefect nodded, satisfied. He began to clap, prompting the others to welcome Warren to the table.
The other Slytherins exchanged glances but clapped along, half-heartedly, out of respect for the prefect. They were actually applauding a red-haired Weasley, a boy they regarded as a traitor to pureblood families.
Warren paid it no mind. He smiled and sat down beside Malfoy.
The applause from the Slytherin table broke the tension. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "Silence, please. The Sorting Ceremony will continue."
Nothing else of note occurred. The Sorting concluded quickly. Dumbledore rose, appearing entirely unperturbed. He delivered a few remarks of vague profundity before announcing the feast.
Food materialized instantly on the tables.
Honestly, the spread was underwhelming. There was certainly plenty of meat, but the main dishes were dull. Potatoes appeared in every conceivable form. After years of a diet revolving around them, the mere sight of them was enough to ruin Warren's appetite.
"My dear Draco, I believe Professor McGonagall was right. Now that we are in the same House, we ought to be like family." Warren picked up a roast lamb chop, a favorite from his past life, and nibbled on it slowly. "So, I have decided to forgive your rudeness on the train. Let's get along from now on, shall we?"
Draco stared blankly.
Was this really his life?
He looked at the delicious food before him. He wanted to eat until he forgot everything, stuffing himself until he couldn't move, then fall asleep and wake to find it had all been a nightmare.
Unfortunately.
"Draco, pass the pudding."
Mmm, proper Yorkshire pudding. I love it. Draco, pass the lamb chops.
Oh, not eating? A few potatoes will cheer you up, Draco. Don't look so glum all the time. Give us a smile.
Look, Draco, you're so popular. Even the Slytherin ghost wants to sit next to you. Ah, Mr. Ghost, what is your name?
A ghost drifted over, covered in silvery bloodstains. His face was vacant, his presence cold and menacing. It was the Bloody Baron.
Every word he spoke seemed to drip with blood.
Draco, having nervously stuffed himself with potatoes, could not stand it any longer. He clamped his hand over his mouth and bolted for the side door leading to the bathrooms. When he returned, he looked utterly drained, his face nearly as pale as the ghost's.
The Slytherin prefects were responsible for leading the first years to their dormitories. The boy prefect was the same one who had scolded Warren earlier. He had introduced himself, but Warren hadn't bothered to remember his name.
Honestly, aside from Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass, who wouldn't start until the following year, Warren saw no reason to commit any of the current Slytherin students to memory. They were either dim-witted, brainwashed by their families, or simply unattractive. Back when he read the books in his past life, he had always wondered what kind of misfits Slytherin managed to collect.
The unfortunate-looking, burly prefect led the first years down to the Slytherin common room. It was located in the dungeons, with windows overlooking the Black Lake. The room held a certain charm, but they were called the dungeons for a reason.
After giving the standard rundown of house rules in the common room, the prefect seemed rather pleased with himself. Having successfully intimidated Warren at the feast, he now clapped him hard on the shoulder.
Weasley, I do not care what your problem is with Malfoy. But in Slytherin and at Hogwarts, you follow my rules. I expect you to show Malfoy more respect. You are both purebloods, but the Weasleys have long since fallen from grace.
"Prefect." Warren cut him off with a smile. "Before you lecture me, I actually have a question about a spell."
The prefect frowned. "Weasley, is that how your penny-pinching parents taught you manners?"
"The spell is called..." Warren raised his wand, his expression turning cold.
The prefect finally realized something was wrong. He fumbled for his wand, but he was too slow to cast.
"Expelliarmus."
A streak of red light shot out.
The prefect's bulky form flew backward.
Splat.
He slammed into the large window separating the common room from the lake before slowly sliding down.
The first-year Slytherins and the older students stared in shock. They watched dumbfounded as Warren cast another spell. "Stupefy." The prefect went limp. Warren nudged the prefect's head with his foot, then pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket.
It was the dormitory assignment list. Warren found his name.
He swept his gaze calmly over the crowd, finally settling on Malfoy.
Draco, did you see what just happened?
Malfoy shuddered violently. "No."
"No, that's not good enough. You saw this boy, whatever his name is, raise his wand at me. I was forced to defend myself. Do you understand?"
Malfoy caught on and nodded frantically.
"Good." Warren's gaze swept the room again. His wand remained in his hand. No one dared to move. He nodded politely. "Goodnight, then, gentlemen."
With that, he turned and left.
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