The Slytherin common room lay behind a wall of the castle dungeons, beneath the Black Lake. Gryffindors called it a damp, cold snake's nest, but Slytherins were proud of it.
"A great Slytherin must dwell in a unique place."
The common room's translucent ceiling offered a glimpse of the Black Lake's deep waters and its inhabitants: the occasional passing fish and shrimp, distant mermen and grindylows, and even the occasional giant squid. The cold light reflected from the lake's waters cast ripples on the stone walls of the common room, like a silent tide, reflecting the hearts of the young wizards within.
"I bet he won't come—he's just talking big!" Even though the night was growing late, the first-year Slytherin wizards still gathered in the common room. Many second-years and above were still awake, gathering near the stairs leading to their dormitories.
The speaker was Millicent Bulstrode, one of the new Slytherin students.
"That's just a megalomaniac, relying on his luck... He wouldn't dare come here!" The tall, sturdy little witch said. "A Mudblood—to confront us? A descendant of a great pure-blood family?"
Pansy Parkinson, sitting in the corner, immediately frowned. "Shut up, Millicent." Her words were harsh, but Millicent truly shut up. After all, while both the Bulstrode and Parkinson families were among the Twenty-Eight Pure-Blooded Saints, the Parkinson family had become far more powerful than the Bulstrode in recent years.
"Parkinson... what's wrong with her?" Goyle, sitting next to Malfoy, whispered to Crabbe after noticing Pansy Parkinson's attitude.
"I don't know—she's always been this eccentric... She's hardly been around Draco lately, too. She's different than before..." Crabbe was clearly confused.
They soon stopped discussing and turned their attention to Draco Malfoy, the core of this Slytherin class.
"Draco, do you think he'll come?" Goyle whispered to Draco, who seemed dazed until he heard this.
"Of course... I mean, he certainly wouldn't dare come," he hesitated for a moment, then, driven by his inner pride, chose to answer. "Millicent is right. After all, he's just a piece of clay..."
"Pureblood!" Just as Draco spoke, a command suddenly rang out, opening the common room door. Bricks shifted, and Ryan emerged from the separated wall. "I didn't expect you to come up with a password like that—I have to say, with your style, this password is hardly going to keep it secret."
At this moment, the entire Slytherin common room fell silent. The young wizards, including the senior students from the Serpent House, stared at Ryan in surprise—most of them clearly couldn't believe that he would actually come.
But Ryan himself remained calm. "Well, before the duel—I have some questions." His steps were steady, his voice casual, as if he were attending a tea party.
Draco Malfoy's eyes were fixed on him, and the older young wizards of the Serpents House also looked at this most special of the new students. "You believe that your blood is pure, so you are nobler than me... oh, or other half-bloods or Muggle-born wizards, right?"
At this time, the young Slytherin wizards had already stood up.
"You Mudblood..."
Millicent Bulstrode wanted to respond, but she was interrupted by Ryan before she could finish her words. "Yes, Mudblood, or lowly half-blood wizard—that's what you always call others," He continued, as if he had never intended to listen to their answers. "You insult Neville, insult Hermione, insult Ron, oh, and of course me... You take pride in this and proudly say—this is the noble Slytherin."
He was simply stating what he felt he had to say.
"That's wrong," he said calmly. "Absolutely wrong."
"Shut up!" At that moment, Millicent Bulstrode was the first to wave her wand. "Try this—Diffindo!" A bright pink light flew straight at Ryan, making a slight sound as it broke through the air. This caused the expressions of the group of senior snakes watching nearby to change slightly.
"The Severing Charm, that's a second-year spell... Millicent actually knows this?"
"The Bulstrode family has always taught spells very early, so it's just right—let her teach that one a lesson..."
A third-year student at the Snake house hadn't finished speaking when he saw Ryan dodging the spell. He didn't even draw his wand, simply leaning slightly. Graceful and swift, like a warrior seasoned in duels, the spell landed on the lounge sofa, carving a large gash.
"Not bad," Ryan said, still gracefully. "Although the timing of the magic and wand was poor, and the speed of the spell was slow, considering your age—it's a passable Severing Charm." He spoke like a professor critiquing his students.
This immediately infuriated the other freshmen, who glared at him and drew their wands. In response to their anger, Ryan simply smiled and waved. "Come," he said.
Then, the Slytherin common room began to glower with the light of spells. Of course, as first-year wizards... to be exact, they had only been enrolled for less than a week. The little snakes knew very few spells—not all of them, like Millicent, had mastered a truly lethal spell. So, while the spells they cast were varied, most were small pranks and simple curses.
Slug Curse, Bat Curse, Pimple Curse, Limp Legs Curse, and Grinning Scream—Ryan even saw someone cast Luminescent Flash on him, and he wondered if they had just had the whim to blind him with it.
But regardless, Ryan remained unaffected by any of the spells. His figure was like a graceful, nimble dancer, effortlessly navigating the rain of spells. "Damn it, their aim is terrible! So many of them can't hit that Mudblood!" Cassius Warrington, a third-year Slytherin wizard, fretted.
"Stop it, Cassius." But then another wizard next to him whispered, "It's not their aim that's bad, it's that Elias... his footwork is problematic." It was Lucian Bole, a fourth-year Slytherin wizard.
"Footwork?"
"Yes, I've heard my father say that wizards skilled in duelling all have unique footwork," Bol said thoughtfully. "Do you know Mad-Eye? When he was young, he had a footwork technique he developed that supposedly allowed him to take on four Dark wizards simultaneously without being hit by any spells. Elias... his footwork is apparently the same."
"Do you know how to break it?"
"Uh..."
He clearly only had a limited understanding—in fact, it was rarely taught at Hogwarts these days.
"Where did he learn it?"
"How should I know? But I heard he inherited the treasury of an ancient wizard family..."
Amidst the whispers, the first-year wizards at the Serpentine Court were clearly furious. "You coward, is all you can do about hiding?" Malfoy said angrily. The tripping spell he had just cast was dodged by Ryan, and it hit Crabbe behind him. Crabbe was still lying on the ground, which made Malfoy feel humiliated.
He didn't expect Ryan to answer him, but...
"Hey." Ryan grinned. He dodged another spell and stood still, looking at the young wizards at the Serpentine Court. Casting spells continuously was obviously very strenuous for their age, and many of the young wizards were already gasping for breath.
But Ryan's voice remained steady. "Look at you," He pointed at the young Slytherin wizards. "Mr. Zabini, your spell failed twice."
"Mr. Malfoy, your spell hit a companion... twice!"
"Mr. Goyle—you can't even cast a spell, yet you tried to stab me with your wand," he said casually, almost mocking the truth. "You're not very good at spellcasting, your spells are sparse, your magic is weak, there's nothing decent about you... You're no different from the young wizards in other houses, or even worse. But why do you think you're so noble? Why do you think—that's what 'Slytherin' is?"
He finished, and the little snakes felt deeply humiliated. So, Malfoy immediately raised his hand and cast a spell: "Shut your filthy mouth... Petrificus Totalus!"
He was indeed a pretty good young wizard, even mastering Petrificus Totalus—a spell that should have been learned in second year. But after a moment, Malfoy's expression froze. Because he saw that this time, Ryan didn't choose to dodge.
He stood still, simply extending his hand slowly.
And then...
Buzz!
The flying spell, gleaming with magical brilliance, was unexpectedly snatched up by Ryan the next moment. That's right—no wand, they didn't even see the spell being cast; it was simply grabbed, as if it were a mosquito. "I can tell you," He said, looking at Malfoy almost sternly.
"This isn't a Slytherin, and you're not really Slytherins." "Slytherins can be proud and arrogant, but when your spells can't hit me, you should return to your dormitories and practice diligently, not rage in frustration. Until your magic is drained, until casting becomes instinctive, until your spells are lightning fast, then challenge me and defeat me, and then taunt me—that's the Slytherin way."
As Malfoy watched, Ryan clenched his fist. Malfoy's spell was easily crushed by his hand, like a flame extinguished in the wind. "Yes... that's it— to be a true Slytherin, you must first be outstanding enough."
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Author's note
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