The Slytherin common room was solemn and grand.
Marble pillars stood in rows, and segments of stained-glass windows were set at intervals along the arched ceiling. Strange, faint light refracted through the glass. The stair railings were carved into intertwined serpents, coiling upward like something out of a cathedral rather than a student lounge.
Along both sides of the staircase stretched ancient, vividly colored murals.
As Star descended, he noticed damp stains creeping along the stone walls and frowned.
Beautiful, yes.
But damp.
If someone lived here long-term, wouldn't they get rheumatism?
At one corner between the stairs and the main lounge, there was even a shallow pool of water.
Star's eyelid twitched.
Merlin's beard—were these wizards afraid their living space wasn't moist enough?
Earlier, Millicent had mentioned that in the central area of the common room, massive floor-to-ceiling windows allowed a view directly into the depths of the Black Lake.
If one were lucky, one might even glimpse the giant squid.
However, once Star actually stepped fully inside, his concerns about dampness faded.
Though it looked dim and humid, the air inside was warm and perfectly balanced—not dry, not damp—comfortably regulated.
He supposed that made sense.
Wizards weren't masochists.
No one would deliberately live in a swamp just to flaunt an air of mystery.
At home, comfort came first.
Only someone brainless would choose to feel sticky all day.
The room was filled with green drapes and green lamps, giving off a subtle, pervasive aura of secrecy.
But it wasn't mysterious for mystery's sake.
It had classical taste.
Before the first-years could even check whether their luggage had arrived in the dormitories, Professor Snape swept into the common room.
Just like in the original novels, his presence was dark and profound—like a black bat unfurling its wings.
His greasy black hair looked perpetually unwashed, adding to his oily severity.
Snape strode forward, robes billowing, his gaze sweeping across the new students.
"Slytherin values bloodline and power," he said, voice measured and cold. "But it also reveres honor and unity.
In the time ahead, I expect you to build trust and connections—on the foundation of strength.
I assume you understand what I mean."
His eyes passed over the group again.
Star had the distinct impression Snape paused on him.
Not narcissism—
When a boss-level professor lingers on you, anyone would notice.
Star muttered inwardly, Did Dad bully Professor Snape back in school? That wouldn't make sense. When Snape enrolled, Dad was already in seventh year. Why would he pick on a first-year?
Reed hadn't bullied Snape.
But he had beaten Lucius.
And Lucius's son Draco was Snape's godson.
Star had temporarily forgotten that just last month, his family had extorted the Malfoys.
After a month and a half buried in textbooks, who remembered Lucius Malfoy?
The other first-years wore faintly eager smiles.
They clearly knew what Snape was referring to.
Only Star looked distracted.
Snape narrowed his eyes.
"Our Slytherin operates differently from the other Houses," he continued coldly. "Each year has an invisible prefect.
That prefect becomes the leader of their cohort, building networks and influence.
That is Slytherin tradition."
The pure-blood children looked ready to spring into action.
They were itching to prove themselves and claim dominance.
Star, however, found it troublesome.
Under surprised gazes, he raised his hand.
"Professor, does the invisible prefect carry obligations? Or is it just a title?"
Snape's gaze settled on him like a blade.
"Authority carries duty. When Slytherin clashes with other Houses, you, as invisible prefect, will defend its honor."
Star immediately lost interest.
Too much trouble.
Hogwarts study time was precious. He had no intention of wasting it on old inter-House grudges.
He'd rather learn the Disillusionment Charm from Alroth and sneak into the Restricted Section at night to "critically evaluate" ancient texts.
Snape noticed the look in his eyes and felt his mood worsen.
This Star Antioch—just like his father—hated responsibility.
And with such overwhelming talent, he would render all visible and invisible prefects meaningless.
Power and connections became jokes before people like them, leaving psychological scars behind.
Reed had been exactly the same.
Snape suspected Star would follow suit.
A clear example stood next door in Ravenclaw.
Alroth, though unofficial, held more authority than the actual prefect.
Not a prefect—
Yet more than one.
Even the current Head Boy struggled to meet her gaze.
Fortunately, she disliked administrative work.
Only upper-year students truly understood how formidable she was.
Snape lowered his gaze slightly.
"Mr. Antioch," he said softly, almost threateningly, "defying the invisible prefect results in punishment.
Either become the prefect—or obey."
Star blinked innocently.
"Professor, if the prefect orders me to kneel and lick shoes, hang me upside down and humiliate me—if my honor is violated—must I obey?"
Snape's face darkened to storm-black.
For a brief second, something painful flickered behind his eyes.
He stepped forward, bending slightly to meet Star's clear gaze.
"Mr. Antioch," he said slowly, "I hope your clever mind understands—showing off small cleverness often ends badly."
Star remained calm.
"Doesn't Slytherin value honor?"
Snape snorted.
"You may resist for honor. But remember—if you win, you become the invisible prefect."
Star nodded in realization.
No trace of annoyance remained.
Snape frowned.
Was he… not opposed to becoming prefect?
Their exchange left the surrounding students uneasy.
Those who had mocked Star earlier felt faint regret.
A first-year who dared verbally spar with Snape on day one?
Not someone to provoke.
Slytherin valued bloodline—
But feared strength more.
Voldemort himself was proof.
Snape waved his sleeve sharply.
Upper-years stepped back, clearing space for the ceremony.
"Now," Snape declared, "draw your wands. Duel. The last one standing becomes the first-year invisible prefect."
He held up a potion.
"As a reward, the winner will receive this Wit-Sharpening Potion. It enhances clarity and thinking speed temporarily."
Slytherin had no shortage of overachievers.
Even some upper-years eyed the potion eagerly.
The countdown ended.
Spells of modest power flew through the air.
Star remained near the edge and casually cast:
"Protego."
With his 56 points in elemental mastery, his Shield Charm was practically impenetrable by first-years.
Eventually, only two exhausted students remained dueling.
Star watched leisurely from the side.
Upper-year Slytherins covered their faces.
The gap was absurd.
When the duel ended, Star clapped lightly.
"Congratulations. Slytherin's invisible prefect."
Snape roared:
"Antioch! Didn't you hear me? The last one standing!"
Star slapped his forehead.
"Oh! Thank you for reminding me, Professor."
Then—
He lay down flat on the floor.
Now only one person was standing.
Snape's jaw tightened.
Technically—
Within the rules.
"Rosen Carrow," Snape said icily, "you are the first-year invisible prefect."
He swept out, robes snapping behind him.
Rosen Carrow stood frozen—shocked and delighted.
But upper-years looked at him with sympathy.
Slytherin tradition was about strength earning honor.
Honor handed over?
Invited ridicule.
After today, the true authority among first-years would not be Carrow—
But Star Antioch.
Snape's mood was foul.
The vast disparity in that duel told him something inevitable.
Hogwarts was about to gain another uncrowned king who refused to govern.
The last one had been named Reed Antioch.
Star Antioch's father.