The predawn chill of a London September clung to King's Cross Station. Viktor shivered, not from cold, but from the electric hum of anticipation that vibrated through the air. Muggles bustled about, oblivious, their mundane worries a stark contrast to the shimmering barrier he and his family were about to pass through. Beside him, Claire Vance yawned widely, her eyes barely slits.
"Honestly, Viktor," she mumbled, leaning against her father, "why do we have to wake up at this ungodly hour? And travel all day? Couldn't they just Apparate us directly to Hogsmeade? It seems terribly inefficient." Her complaints were laced with genuine exhaustion.
Hailey Beaumont, however, was practically bouncing. "Oh, but Claire, it's tradition! It's part of the adventure!"
Their parents, Alexei and Natasha, Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont, and Mr. and Mrs. Vance, gathered around them, a formidable wall of parental anxiety from these old, influential families.
"Now, Viktor, darling," Natasha began, smoothing down his perpetually unruly dark hair. "You must send us letters every week. Every single week. And do try to avoid any… unnecessary dramatics. The Ministry has enough paperwork as it is." Alexei clapped him on the shoulder, a booming laugh echoing. "Stay out of trouble unless absolutely needed, then show them who's boss, eh?"
Mr. Beaumont adjusted his tie nervously. "Hailey, remember to do your homework. Practice diligently. And no running off into forbidden forests, please." Mrs. Beaumont pressed a gentle kiss to Hailey's forehead. "Be kind, my dear. And make us proud in Slytherin."
Mr. Vance, ever the meticulous one, checked his watch. "Claire, observe everything. Take notes. Knowledge is power. And do ensure your robes are always presentable." His wife, Mrs. Vance, just hugged Claire tightly. "Be good, sweetheart."
It was a prolonged, slightly embarrassing farewell, filled with repeated warnings and promises. Viktor felt a wave of fondness for these eccentric, overly cautious adults. He knew their fussing came from a place of genuine care, even if it was smothered in expectations of elite behavior. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of goodbyes, they were ushered towards the gleaming scarlet steam engine that promised freedom and adventure: the Hogwarts Express.
They found a compartment near the back, surprisingly empty. The interior was cozy, if a little dated, with plush velvet seats and large windows that promised views of the passing countryside. They settled in, pulling down their new trunks and tucking their owls safely onto the luggage rack above. Viktor's eagle-owl, a stoic creature named Valerius, blinked slowly, already looking bored.
"So," Hailey began, settling into her seat, "which house do we think we'll be in?" Her eyes sparkled, though she already knew the answer for herself.
Claire, ever practical, sighed contentedly into the plush seat. "Well, statistically, for us, it has to be Slytherin. Our families have been there for generations. It would be rather... inconvenient if we weren't."
"Mine too," Hailey added. "All the Beaumonts are Slytherins. It's practically expected."
Viktor shrugged. "My parents don't really put much stock in houses. They studied at Durmstrang, where they don't have houses in the same way. They just want me to excel, regardless of the common room." He felt a genuine indifference to the house system, but a deep curiosity about its dynamics.
Their conversation was soon interrupted by a cheerful voice. "Anything from the trolley, dears?"
The Trolley Witch, a kindly looking old woman with dimples, stood in the doorway, her trolley laden with magical delights. The sight of the mountains of sweets made Viktor's eyes widen. This was another classic!
"Everything!" Hailey declared, practically vibrating. Claire, with a rare burst of uncharacteristic eagerness, nodded in agreement.
Viktor, despite his adult palate, found himself caught up in their enthusiasm. "We'll take a bit of everything," he told the witch, feeling a surge of childhood joy. They bought Cauldron Cakes, Pumpkin Pasties, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans (Hailey unluckily tried a booger-flavored one, much to her disgust), Fizzing Whizbees, and enough Chocolate Frogs to fill their laps. The compartment quickly became a chaotic, sugary paradise.
As the train rattled on, a few new first-year students briefly poked their heads into their compartment. A shy boy with glasses and a nervous twitch joined them for a Chocolate Frog, revealing he hoped for Ravenclaw. A boisterous, freckled girl from a Muggle family shared stories of her eleven siblings before moving on. Viktor observed them all with keen interest.
As dusk painted the sky in hues of purple and orange, the train finally began to slow. "Hogsmeade Station!" a voice boomed from down the corridor.
A flurry of excitement filled the compartment. They quickly tidied their sweets, grabbed their robes (which they were instructed to put on now), and joined the throng of eager students spilling out onto the platform. The air was cold, crisp, and smelled of pine and something distinctly magical.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" A voice like a rumble of distant thunder cut through the chatter. Viktor, Hailey, and Claire looked up to see a towering figure, easily twice the height of any normal man, with a wild beard and kind, crinkled eyes. It was Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds. Viktor felt a jolt of exhilaration. Hagrid! It's actually Hagrid! He half-raised a hand, a childish urge to wave, but the half-giant was already moving, his attention on corralling the bewildered first-years.
Hagrid gathered them, his lantern casting long, dancing shadows. "Right then, follow me! Any more firs' years? Mind yer step!" He led them down a narrow, winding path that opened onto the edge of a vast, still lake. Moored along the shore were dozens of small boats, their lanterns glowing softly.
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, gesturing towards the lake.
Viktor, Hailey, and Claire quickly clambered into one. The moment the boat glided out onto the inky black water, a collective gasp swept through the first-years. The magnificent view of Hogwarts castle burst into sight. It stood silhouetted against the deepening twilight, its countless windows twinkling like scattered diamonds, its towers reaching majestically towards the first emerging stars. The sheer scale and ancient grandeur of it took Viktor's breath away. He had seen it in illustrations, imagined it countless times, but the living, breathing reality of the castle, glowing across the dark lake, was more awe-inspiring than any picture. Hailey squeezed his arm, her eyes wide with unadulterated wonder, while Claire, usually so composed, simply whispered, "It's even more beautiful than I imagined."
The boats carried them across the serene water, closer and closer to the castle's base, where they disembarked and followed Hagrid through a winding path and up a flight of stone steps. They entered the castle through a grand oak door, stepping into the cavernous Entrance Hall, lit by flickering torches.
Soon, they were led to the Great Hall, a breathtaking sight with its enchanted ceiling mirroring the night sky. Viktor's eyes immediately sought out the High Table, quickly identifying Professor McGonagall—sharp, stern, and utterly iconic. He felt another surge of fanboy delight, quickly suppressed. He wanted to say hello, to acknowledge these legends, but she was already moving, her attention on the incoming students.
Professor McGonagall introduced them to the teachers and the assembled students, then the Sorting Hat was brought forward.
One by one, names were called. Students walked up, sat on the stool, and had the old hat placed on their head. Viktor watched, a flicker of nervous energy now mixing with his curiosity. He knew the Hat read minds, and while his Occlumency was strong, he hadn't tested it against ancient, sentient magical artifacts.
"Ivanov, Viktor!" Professor McGonagall called.
Viktor strode forward, feeling the gaze of a thousand eyes. He sat on the stool, and the Hat, smelling faintly of dust and old magic, dropped over his eyes, plunging him into darkness.
Well, well, what do we have here? a small voice directly in his mind murmured. A keen mind... a thirst for knowledge... yes, Ravenclaw would suit you. But a deep ambition too. A desire for power, for control... oh, and a very strong will. Not easily swayed. Self-preservation. Resourcefulness... Yes, yes, I see it clearly now.
The Hat paused, seeming to consider his options. Viktor subtly strengthened his Occlumency shields, not to hide anything, but to ensure the Hat understood his inherent drive.
"SLYTHERIN!" The Hat boomed, its voice echoing through the Great Hall.
A roar erupted from the Slytherin table. Viktor calmly walked towards the cheering students, a subtle sense of triumph settling in his chest. As he approached the table, he glanced up at the High Table, noting the spectral form of the Bloody Baron, the Slytherin House ghost. The Baron, a gaunt, silver-tinged specter with hollow eyes, floated silently near the staff table, his chains rattling faintly as if in ghostly approval. Viktor had always found his character fascinatingly tragic, and seeing him in person added another layer of reality to his new life. He noticed that the students at the Slytherin table seemed to pay the Baron little mind, accustomed to his perpetually brooding presence.
Hailey and Claire followed soon after. "Beaumont, Hailey!" "SLYTHERIN!" "Vance, Claire!" "SLYTHERIN!" Each time, the green and silver table roared with approval, a wave of cheers and claps welcoming them.
They exchanged triumphant grins, united in their house. The Slytherin table was a sea of green ties and polished uniforms, with students of all ages chatting amongst themselves, a palpable air of quiet confidence and cunning. Viktor observed their expressions, already beginning to categorize them based on their demeanor – the openly ambitious, the subtly observant, the quietly scheming. It was a fascinating social ecosystem.
After the Sorting, Dumbledore rose to give his traditional welcoming speech. He spoke of unity, of dreams, and, of course, delivered his famous warnings. "I must warn you that the Forbidden Forest is, for obvious reasons, out of bounds to all students. And a final word to you all: I have been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors." Viktor caught the twinkle in Dumbledore's eye, a silent challenge that already resonated with his own mischievous plans.
Finally, the grand feast began. Mountains of food appeared on the tables, laden with roast meats, golden potatoes, and steaming pies. The Great Hall filled with joyful chatter and the clinking of goblets. The Slytherin table, while perhaps less boisterous than Gryffindor's, was just as engaged in the food and conversation, though their discussions seemed to drift more often towards academic strategies or subtle jabs at other houses. Viktor loaded his plate, enjoying the rich, hearty flavors. He ate until he was stuffed, the reality of Hogwarts finally settling in.
As the night drew to a close, the Head Boy and Head Girl made a few announcements, then the house prefects stood up to gather their first-years. The Slytherin prefects, two senior students, strode to the end of their table.
"First years, attention!" a tall, impeccably groomed boy called out, his voice sharp and clear, cutting through the lingering chatter. "I am Lester Thorne, a fifth-year, and this is Anna Rookwood, also a fifth-year. We are your Slytherin prefects."
Anna, a girl with sleek dark hair and a rather disdainful expression that seemed to be her default, gave a curt nod. "Follow us. We will lead you to the common room. Do not stray. We do not tolerate dawdling or drawing unnecessary attention."
Lester added, "Slytherins are expected to be organized, resourceful, and above all, discreet. You will find that our house values privacy and ambition. Any behavior that reflects poorly on the house will be dealt with. Understood?" A chorus of "Yes, Prefect" murmured from the new students.
The group of first-year Slytherins, including Viktor, Hailey, and Claire, followed Lester and Anna out of the Great Hall. The castle, now quieter, seemed to take on a more mysterious air. They descended several flights of stairs, the temperature dropping noticeably with each level. The tapestries became darker, the stone walls colder, and the air grew heavy with the scent of damp earth and ancient secrets. They passed through a less-frequented corridor, dimly lit by torches, before reaching a bare stretch of stone wall.
Lester stepped forward, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone. "This is the entrance to the Slytherin common room. The password changes every fortnight, so pay attention. Tonight's password is: 'Pure-Blood'."
He articulated the phrase clearly, then tapped a specific stone in the wall with his wand. With a low grinding sound, a section of the wall slid aside, revealing a dark, tunnel-like passage.
"Move quickly," Anna instructed, gesturing them through.
Viktor stepped into the passage, feeling the cold air. The tunnel opened into the Slytherin common room, a long, low room with elegant carved chairs upholstered in dark green velvet, and heavy, serpentine-shaped lamps casting a dim, emerald glow. Large, circular windows looked out into the murky depths of the Black Lake, where faint, monstrous shadows sometimes glided past, a constant reminder of their submerged location. It was a place of quiet, sophisticated luxury, a stark contrast to the boisterous Gryffindor common room from the books. A grand fireplace crackled with green flames, warming the otherwise cold stone chamber.
"First years, listen carefully," Lester announced, once they were all inside. "Your rooms are assigned. Males to the right, females to the left. Remember, each student in Slytherin has his or her own private room. Privacy is valued here. Do not disturb others. You will receive your schedules in the morning."
Viktor walked to his designated door, pushing it open. Inside, a small, elegant room awaited him: a four-poster bed with green hangings, a sturdy wardrobe, and a small desk by the window. A single, unlit lamp sat on the bedside table. He smiled. His own room. This was indeed a luxury. He stretched, a deep sense of satisfaction settling in his chest. Tomorrow, the true exploration of Hogwarts will begin.