The descent from the warm, candlelit splendor of the Great Hall into the bowels of the castle was a journey not just through space, but through atmosphere. As the Gryffindors ascended toward their towers in a riot of noise and primary colors, the Slytherin cohort peeled away, moving like a dark current toward the dungeons.
Orion walked silently beside Draco, who was currently whispering excitedly to Crabbe about the rumors of a giant snake living in the walls (a rumor that Orion found hilariously close to the truth, though Draco had the location wrong).
They followed two Prefects—a tall, severe boy with a badge gleaming on his chest and a girl with a perpetually bored expression. Orion hadn't caught their names, nor did he particularly care. To him, they were just tour guides with authority complexes.
The air grew cooler with every step. The stone walls here were rougher, older, sweating with the damp chill of the earth. The torches were fewer, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to stretch and grasp at their ankles.
"It's freezing down here," Pansy Parkinson shivered, pulling her robes tighter. "Do they not have heating charms?"
"We are beneath the lake, Pansy," Orion remarked, running a hand along the cold stone wall. "Thermal insulation is difficult when you are surrounded by millions of gallons of Scottish water. Think of it as atmospheric. It keeps the skin tight and the mind sharp."
"It keeps the nose running," she sniffed unhappily.
They reached a stretch of bare, damp stone wall that looked indistinguishable from the rest of the corridor. The male Prefect stopped and turned to face the group of first-years.
"Welcome to the Dungeons," he said, his voice echoing slightly. "This is the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. The password changes every fortnight. It is posted on the notice board. Do not forget it. We do not tolerate stragglers."
He turned to the wall.
"Noble Lineage," he intoned clearly.
Orion raised an eyebrow. "Subtle," he thought. "Might as well make the password 'We Are Better Than You'."
With a heavy grinding sound of stone on stone, a concealed stone door slid open, revealing a narrow passage. The Prefects led the way inside.
The Slytherin Common Room was a masterpiece of gothic luxury. It was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling, but the harshness was softened by round, greenish lamps hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece, but unlike the warm orange of the Great Hall, this fire burned with a strange, mesmerizing green hue.
The furniture was all high-backed carved chairs and button-tufted black leather sofas that looked like they cost more than a small house. Tapestries depicting medieval adventures of famous Slytherins adorned the walls.
But the centerpiece was the windows.
Orion walked straight past the group, drawn to the far wall. The windows didn't look out onto the grounds. They looked into the Black Lake. The glass was thick, greenish, and framed in heavy iron. Beyond the pane, the water was a murky, swirling abyss. Shoals of silver fish darted past, and in the distance, long tendrils of seaweed waved like drowning hands.
"Structural integrity holding at one hundred percent," Orion murmured, tapping the glass. "Impressive. The pressure at this depth must be immense."
"First years!" The female Prefect called out, snapping Orion out of his engineering reverence. "Gather round."
The group huddled in the center of the room. The older students—second years through seventh years—were already lounging in the chairs, watching the new arrivals with critical eyes. It felt less like a school orientation and more like an audition for a secret society.
"I am Gemma Farley," the female Prefect introduced herself. "And this is Marcus Flint. We are your Prefects. A few ground rules. The boys' dormitories are on the left, down the corridor. Girls on the right. Your trunks have already been brought down."
"Rule number one," Flint grunted, looking like he'd rather be hitting a Bludger. "Don't bring Gryffindors down here. Or Hufflepuffs. Or anyone who isn't us. The password is secret. If you leak it, you'll regret it."
"Rule number two," Gemma continued, smoothing her skirt. "Curfew is strict. If you are caught out of bed, you lose points. If you lose points, the House hates you. Slytherin has won the House Cup six years in a row. We intend to make it seven. Do not be the reason we break the streak."
"And finally," she lowered her voice. "What happens in the dungeons, stays in the dungeons. We may have our disagreements. We may duel. We may argue. But the moment you step out that stone door, we are a united front. To the rest of the school, Slytherins are flawless. Understood?"
"Understood," the first years murmured.
"Good. Now—"
Suddenly, the stone door to the corridor slammed open. The heavy sound echoed like a gunshot.
Silence fell over the room instantly. The lounging older students sat up straighter. The Prefects stepped back.
Professor Severus Snape swept into the room.
He didn't walk; he glided. His black robes billowed behind him like the wings of a giant bat, creating their own wind. His face was a mask of sallow skin and impassive disdain, framed by greasy curtains of black hair. His black eyes, cold and tunnel-like, swept over the room, instantly quieting even the crackling of the fire.
He stopped in the center of the first-year circle. He looked at Draco. He looked at Crabbe. He paused, his gaze lingering on Orion for a second longer than the others, before moving on.
"Welcome," Snape said. His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried to every corner of the room. It was smooth, dangerous, and dripping with authority. "To Slytherin House."
He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace slowly around the terrified eleven-year-olds.
"You have been chosen," he began, "because you possess the seeds of greatness. Ambition. Cunning. Resourcefulness. These are the traits of leaders. They are also the traits that the rest of this school... fears."
He stopped, turning to face them.
"Make no mistake. When you walk these corridors, you will see the way the other Houses look at you. They see you as villains. They see you as dark wizards in training. The prejudices against this House run deep, fueled by history and... recent events."
Orion knew he meant Voldemort. It was the elephant in the room that Snape was staring directly in the eye.
"You have two choices," Snape hissed softly. "You can prove them right. You can be thuggish, cruel, and foolish. You can brawl in the corridors like common Muggles." His eyes flicked to Draco's powdered black eye, and his lip curled. "Or... you can prove them wrong. By being better."
He leaned in closer.
"Slytherin House is a fortress. Inside these walls, you may compete. You may strive to outdo one another. But outside? You are a phalanx. You defend your own. You do not snitch on your housemates. You do not sabotage your kin in front of the enemy. If you have a quarrel with a fellow Slytherin, you settle it here. In the shadows. Not in the Great Hall for the amusement of Gryffindors."
Orion nodded slightly. It was sound advice. It was tribalism, yes, but it was survivalist tribalism.
"Furthermore," Snape continued, straightening up. "I do not tolerate failure. And I certainly do not tolerate getting caught. If you break the rules, and you are caught by Filch, or McGonagall, or Sprout... you will face my wrath. And I assure you, my detentions are far less pleasant than writing lines."
A chill went through the group.
"However," Snape's voice softened, just a fraction. "If you find yourself in... truly dire circumstances. If you require guidance that the other Faculty would deny you... my door is open. My office is down the corridor. I protect my own. Do not abuse that protection."
He looked at them one last time, his gaze piercing.
"Do not embarrass me. Do not embarrass this House. Now... go to bed."
With a swirl of his robes that was theatrically perfect, Snape turned and marched out of the room. The stone door ground shut behind him.
The tension in the room snapped. Several first years let out breaths they had been holding.
"He's terrifying," Tracey Davis whispered.
"He's brilliant," Draco corrected, touching his eye. "He's going to make sure we win everything."
"He's a pragmatist," Orion noted, moving toward the boys' dormitory. "Come on. Let's see where we sleep."
They navigated down the left corridor. The doors were marked by year. They found the First Year door and pushed it open.
The dormitory was circular, carved directly into the rock. Five four-poster beds stood arranged around the room, hung with green velvet curtains with silver tassels. Their trunks were already placed at the foot of the beds.
High, narrow windows looked out into the lake, casting a rippling, eerie light across the room. A green lantern hung from the center of the ceiling.
"I call this one!" Draco immediately claimed the bed closest to the door, throwing himself onto it.
Crabbe and Goyle took the two beds flanking Draco, acting as his human shields even in sleep. Blaise took the one near the heater. Theodore took the one on the other side.
That left Orion with the bed nearest the window.
He walked over to it. It was perfect. It was secluded, furthest from the door, and right next to the thick glass pane revealing the murky depths.
"Strategic position," Orion murmured, running a hand over the velvet hangings. "Defensible. Private. And a view of the abyss."
He unpacked quickly, utilizing his shrunken trunk's efficiency. He placed his toiletries in the shared bathroom, changed into his silk pajamas, and climbed into the bed. The sheets were cold but warmed quickly.
Draco and the others were chatting loudly, recounting the feast and speculating about Quidditch. Orion closed his curtains, sealing himself in his own private green pod.
"Finally," Orion exhaled, the noise of the day fading. "Silence."
He lay back against the pillows, staring up at the canopy.
"Sparkle," he whispered. "You promised me something."
The blue interface bloomed in the darkness of his curtained bed. It was brighter than usual, pulsating with a celebratory gold border.
"I sure did," Sparkle's voice was giddy. "You survived Night One. You got Sorted. You entered the castle. And you didn't punch a Weasley. That's a win in my book."
"Show me," Orion commanded. "The achievement."
The screen shifted. The text was larger, more ornate.
[ ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! ]
Tier: 2 (Advanced)
Name: Behold, Hogwarts
Description: You have successfully infiltrated the premier institution of magical learning in Great Britain. You have navigated the perils of a giant squid, a singing hat, and a speech by a man who looks like he sleeps in a coffin. Most people just get a badge or a scarf. You, however, get the truth. The castle is a sentient, chaotic mess of ancient magic, forgotten rooms, and structural impossibilities. Welcome to the madhouse. Try not to die on the moving stairs.
Reward:Hogwarts: A History (The "Bagshot Original" Unedited Edition).
Orion's eyes widened. "Unedited?"
"Yup," Sparkle popped the 'p'. "The version in the library? Censored by the Board of Governors. The version Hermione Granger memorized? A sanitized tourist brochure. This... this is the raw manuscript. Before the Ministry got their red ink all over it."
"Inventory," Orion breathed.
He summoned the book. It was heavy. Much heavier than the standard textbook. The cover was bound in dragon leather that felt warm to the touch, and the title was embossed in tarnished silver.
He opened it. The smell of ancient parchment wafted out.
He flipped to the table of contents.
Chapter 4: The Founder's Arguments and the Sealed Chambers.
Chapter 12: The House-Elf Labor Agreement of 1452 (And Why They Like It).
Chapter 23: The Sentience of the Castle Walls and How to Bargain with Doors.
Appendix B: A Complete Schematic of the "Lost" Passageways (Current as of 1899).
Orion let out a low, delighted laugh.
"Maps," he whispered. "It has the lost maps."
"It has everything," Sparkle confirmed. "Where the ghosts really hang out. What's actually in the Forbidden Forest. The specific arithmancy used to create the Room of Requirement. It's the cheat code to the building, Orion."
"Knowledge is power," Orion said, running his fingers over the text. "Hermione is going to be quoting facts about the ceiling, and I'm going to know why the ceiling sometimes rains frogs if the ambient magic gets too high."
He placed the book carefully on his bedside table, then thought better of it and shoved it under his pillow.
"This is going to be my bedtime reading for the next month," Orion decided.
He turned to his side, pulling the heavy duvet up to his chin. He could hear the faint glub-glub of the water outside the window.
He pushed the curtain aside just a crack to look out.
A massive, dark shape glided past the glass. A giant eye, the size of a dinner plate, blinked at him from the darkness of the lake. The Giant Squid.
Orion didn't flinch. He waved.
The Squid blinked again and propelled itself away into the gloom.
"Tomorrow," Orion whispered to the underwater world. "Tomorrow classes start. Tomorrow I start tearing this school apart to see how it ticks."
"Goodnight, chaos boy," Sparkle whispered.
"Goodnight, Sparkle."
Orion closed his eyes. The gentle rocking of the lake water seemed to lull the dormitory to sleep. He drifted off with a smile on his face, dreaming of secret passages and unedited history.