On the last day of September, just as dinner ended, the seventh-year prefects, Lucretius Boke and Narcissa Black, stood at the end of the Slytherin table, tapping their goblets with silver spoons.
"All Slytherin students, please return directly to the Common Room after dinner." Narcissa rose gracefully. "First-year students, your attendance is mandatory."
As the words fell, the atmosphere at the Slytherin table changed instantly.
Upper-year students exchanged knowing glances, and several fifth-year boys even wore expectant smirks.
Pure-blood students, especially those core members from ancient families, all had expressions that said, "It's finally here."
Avery Cuthbert immediately set down his cutlery and wiped his mouth with a napkin, a flash of excitement in his eyes.
Hermes Mulciber slowly raised his head, his dark gaze sweeping across the prefects' faces before finally landing on Regulus beside him.
Only Alex Rosier, a boy from a moderate pure-blood branch, blinked blankly and whispered, "What's happening? Why do we have to go back?"
Avery sneered, making no effort to hide the superiority and a hint of pity in his tone. "Rosier, didn't your family tell you? Well, your family… Hmph."
"It's a tradition, the Slytherin welcoming program. Let's see which of this year's little snakes has the sharpest fangs."
Alex's face paled, clearly understanding something. He looked uneasily at Regulus, then at the other first-years.
The commotion even attracted the attention of the other three houses. They buzzed with discussion as upper-years told lower-years about the tradition unique to Slytherin.
Regulus felt more than one gaze directed at him from the High Table; what caught his attention was that Dumbledore was among them.
At the same time, gazes came from Gryffindor as well—Lily Evans, James Potter, and Sirius. He didn't respond, only rising silently.
As the crowd filed into the Common Room deep underground, the atmosphere was completely different.
The emerald flames in the fireplace flickered, reflecting off the dark green hangings and silver decorations, as well as the dozens of faces with varying expressions in the room.
Upper-year students gathered in small groups around the sofas and armchairs, talking and laughing in low voices, their eyes scanning the ten incoming first-years.
The first-years instinctively huddled together, yet they were faintly divided into several small cliques.
Those from the pure-blood core, like Avery and Hermes, naturally stood together, their expressions either arrogant or somber.
Meanwhile, several other new students, including two nervous-looking half-bloods with somewhat plain robes—a boy and a girl—appeared isolated and helpless.
Their eyes scanned the crowd frantically before landing, as if by common consent, on Regulus.
Over the past month, Regulus's performance had been starkly different from other high-born pure-blood young wizards.
He didn't possess that deliberate arrogance, never participated in the mindless belittling of bloodlines or origins, and was rigorous and fair in class questions and group assignments.
In the eyes of those first-years who weren't in the pure-blood core circle or came from ordinary families, this second son of the Black family was nearly the only one among the Slytherin freshmen who could be called reasonable and reliable.
At this moment, they instinctively moved a bit closer to where Regulus was standing, as if they could gain a faint sense of security that way.
Regulus noticed these subtle leanings, but he gave no indication. He simply walked to the edge of the open space in the center of the Common Room and stood quietly, his grey eyes scanning the room.
"Quiet." Lucretius Boke stepped in front of the fireplace, his voice not loud but his expression solemn.
The Common Room fell silent immediately.
"The usual rules," he said succinctly. "First-year students, dueling in pairs. No restrictions on spells, as long as you can cast them and they don't cause enough trouble for Madam Pomfrey to come looking for us."
"The goal is for you to recognize yourselves and others. Slytherin respects power, but also the wisdom to wield it."
As soon as he finished, low discussions and snickers broke out among the upper-year students around them.
"Bets are open, bets are open!" A sixth-year boy grinned as he pulled out a small notebook. "Wagering on which little rookie will be the last one standing! Odds are live! I'm putting ten Galleons on the Black kid."
"Duh, is that even a question?" A girl beside him rolled her eyes. "Look at him—does he look eleven? I bet he'll take down all his opponents in under three minutes."
"You can't say that for sure," another seventh-year boy with glasses pushed them up, adopting an analytical tone. "The Mulciber kid has a very dark look in his eyes; word is his family has some… unconventional collections."
"And the Cuthbert kid isn't a total pushover either."
"Please, look at the way Black is standing there." The sixth-year boy who spoke first gestured with his chin.
"Everyone else is either trembling with nerves, overexcited, or forcing a brave face like Avery."
"But look at him; it's like he's standing at the door of his own study waiting for tea. I'm raising my bet—I bet his robes won't even get a wrinkle."
These discussions drifted clearly into the ears of the first-year students. Avery's face flushed, a mix of excitement and anger.
Alex became even more nervous, unconsciously twisting the edge of his robes. The two half-blood students turned pale.
Hermes remained somber, his gaze toward Regulus becoming even sharper.
And the focus of the discussion, Regulus, simply stood there quietly, his face devoid of any expression.
"Now, we will draw lots to determine the first-round opponents." Narcissa produced a small silver cup containing slips of parchment.
The results were out quickly. Alex was paired against another equally nervous boy from a pure-blood branch family.
A half-blood girl drew Avery, her face turning even paler. As for Regulus, he drew another pure-blood boy whose expression looked like he was about to cry upon seeing the slip.
"Wait."
A low voice rang 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 fell silent for a moment, followed by a louder hum of voices. Requesting a change of opponent wasn't common, but the rules didn't forbid it as long as both parties agreed.
Lucretius raised an eyebrow and looked at Regulus. "Black?"
Everyone's eyes converged on him.
Regulus looked at Hermes. There was no provocation in the other boy's dark eyes, only a near-obsessive seriousness and something suppressed.
He remembered the burnt smell in the dormitory after a night out, and the nameless book with the dark red cover.
"Fine," Regulus nodded calmly, then added, "However, since these are one-on-one matches held in turn, we can wait until the end and let the others finish their bouts first."
The boy who had been swapped out looked as if he had been granted a royal pardon, nodding hurriedly as he ran to the side.
The other first-years had no objections either; anyone could see that the duel between Regulus and Hermes would likely be on a different level from the rest.
The two prefects exchanged a look and nodded. "Very well. Then we shall begin with the other groups."
The duels began quickly. An open space was cleared, surrounded by watching students.
Alex and his opponent were practically like two chicks pecking at each other; both were so nervous that their incantations were stumbled, and the light from their Expelliarmus was wobbly.
Ultimately, Alex lost because he tripped over himself in his panic, drawing a round of laughter.
Avery had a much easier time against the half-blood girl. He used a neat Impediment Jinx to knock her off balance, followed by a precise Expelliarmus to end the fight, earning nods from several upper-year students.
The other groups were much the same.
As Regulus observed, first-year students—even young wizards carefully raised by pure-blood families—at this age had magic that was still immature, weak control, and almost zero practical combat experience.
The contents of *The Standard Book of Spells* were already subjects requiring hard practice for them.
Expelliarmus, Impediment Jinx, Jelly-Legs Jinx, Locking Spell, Petrificus Totalus, Fire-Making Spell… being able to cast these most basic practical spells fluently and hit accurately was considered good among their peers.
But for Regulus, these spells posed no difficulty.
Any spell that only required precise gestures, clear pronunciation, and basic magic guidance was something he could practically learn at a glance and master with a bit of practice.
His powerful magic control and calculation abilities were enough to compensate for the gap in age, allowing these basic spells to exhibit stability and power far beyond his peers in his hands.
Of course, magic was far from being that simple.
Spells requiring strong emotional drive, involving complex conceptual understanding, or needing special talent and mediums were still areas he needed to learn and study.
After several rounds of dueling, the freshmen were exhausted. Some were excited, others dejected. Finally, only Regulus and Hermes remained standing in the center of the open space.
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