After the school song, we first-years were led to our dormitory by a beautiful prefect.
"Why the dungeon…?"
We were taken from the Entrance Hall to what turned out to be a dead end, complete with iron bars that made it obvious this was a dungeon. You could really sense the, shall we say, distinctive taste of the founder, Salazar Slytherin.
"Parseltongue!"
When the prefect, Gemma Farley, called out, the stone wall that had blocked our way slid open smoothly.
Seeing the astonishment on the first-years' faces, Farley smiled mischievously. With her green eyes, medium-short black hair, and model-like proportions, she carried herself naturally, giving off an air of composure and confidence in everything she did. She had the kind of presence that felt relaxed yet capable of firmly leading a group.
"That was the password. It changes every two weeks, so don't forget the new one that gets posted in the common room."
From what I heard, the security was fairly well thought out. Still, my attention was drawn more to the sight of the common room itself.
(I had assumed that a dungeon common room might end up looking like a prison cafeteria if things went badly…)
The Slytherin common room was a long, low-ceilinged underground chamber, with a large black leather sofa placed at its center. The walls and ceiling were made of roughly hewn stone, and round greenish lamps hung from the ceiling by chains. The fireplace was adorned with magnificent carvings, and even the chairs placed around the room were intricately carved.
What fascinated me most, however, was the view from the common room windows. They appeared to face underwater toward the Hogwarts lake, and through them I could see a giant squid and fish swimming leisurely by. When illuminated by the moonlight, the scene was fantastically beautiful, like a small aquarium or an aquarium lounge.
Being underground, it was impossible to completely dispel a chilly, gloomy impression, but the stately atmosphere created by the marble floors and pillars, combined with the gentle green light enveloping the room, gave it the feel of a historic luxury hotel.
"The first-years' luggage has already been taken to your bedrooms, so get ready for bed on your own. All right, dismissed!"
With that order from Prefect Farley, we new students headed off to our respective dormitories. I parted ways with Draco and the other boys and made my way to the girls' dormitory. Now then, what kind of room would it be?
"Hm, this is quite impressive as well."
The bedroom was just as luxurious as the common room.
There were antique four-poster beds with green silk curtains. The bedcovers were embroidered in silver, and silver lanterns hung down from the ceiling as well. On the walls were tapestries depicting the adventures of famous Slytherins, including Merlin.
＊＊
As I was sorting through my belongings in preparation for the next day, three girls entered the room. Black hair, brown hair, and blonde hair, forming a perfect gradient.
"Hey, um…"
The first to speak to me was a black-haired girl with a slightly shrill voice and a face like a pug. I had caught a glimpse of her during the Sorting, and she gave off an impression of being rather haughty and strong-willed. Her name was, I think…
"You're Parkinson, right?"
"That's right. Pansy Parkinson of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. And you are?"
"Elaina. Elaina Celestelia."
"Celestelia… I feel like I've heard that somewhere."
The other two looked similarly uncertain, until the wavy-haired blonde girl suddenly exclaimed, "Ah!"
"Celestelia, as in that nouveau riche family?"
What did you just say?
"Oh, sorry."
The blonde girl hurriedly covered her mouth, but it was already too late.
The other two also looked as if they had just realized something, which made me wonder if my family was really the subject of such gossip.
For the moment, I turned my gaze toward the blonde girl, who was wearing an awkward smile that clearly showed she was trying to smooth things over. With her large emerald eyes, straight nose, fine white skin, and slender frame, she was certainly cute, though not quite on my level.
She had probably been spoiled by her charm up until now, but that would not work on someone like me, whose beauty matched or exceeded hers.
I put on the brightest smile I could manage and, intending to teach her a lesson in proper manners, asked the impudent girl her name.
"By the way, I haven't heard your name yet. Who might you be?"
"Daph… no, I'm Millicent."
"Hey, cut it out, Daphne. Don't go using someone else's name without permission."
At that, a large, sturdily built brown-haired girl, who had been standing there silently with her arms crossed, snapped at her. The blonde, called Daphne, let out a pitiful yelp.
Watching this, the pug-faced black-haired girl who had introduced herself as Pansy sighed softly in exasperation.
"That blonde is Daphne Greengrass, and the big one here is Millicent Bulstrode. Both are from Sacred Twenty-Eight families."
Greengrass and Bulstrode. Both were distinguished noble houses among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the twenty-eight great pure-blood families of the wizarding world.
Judging from the way the three of them interacted, it seemed they had known each other even before enrolling, as befitting pure-blood aristocrats. Connections like these were one of Slytherin's strengths, and a major reason why the pure-blood minority had been able to dominate the wizarding world for so many years.
And speaking of prestigious families, that naturally brings us to nobility. When it comes to nobles, there is a saying in the British wizarding world: "True nobles do not work."
If you have to earn your living through sweat and labor just to survive, that is proof of being part of the working class. The genuine "noble" class is one that can live solely off ancestral lands and assets without resorting to such grubby efforts.
As an exception, high-ranking bureaucrats, lawyers, and scholars sometimes take up employment, even if they are nobles, because of the high public value of their work. Even then, such positions are less about making a living and more akin to "noblesse oblige," with a strong volunteer aspect, and the pay is not particularly high.
For that reason, most of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families earn their income through things like real estate revenue or patent royalties from magical tools invented by their ancestors.
That said, the waves of division of labor and specialization brought about by the advancement of civilization have not spared the wizarding world either. Just as mochi should be made by a mochi maker, it has become more efficient to leave the operation, maintenance, and management of unearned income to specialists.
This is where newly rising pure-blood nobles, who insist on calling themselves such, like the Celestelia family, have come to prominence. The Celestelia family originally seems to have been something like stewards or official merchants for old noble houses, but over time they developed into a distinguished family, not quite on par with the Sacred Twenty-Eight, yet close enough to be considered comparable.
Do not call them nouveau riche. In this world, money matters more than blood.
"Miss Daphne, let me tell you something useful. If you can laugh for one Knut, then you can laugh twenty-nine times for one Sickle. Wealth in money is wealth in life."
"When you put it that way, I suppose that's true…"
"Daphne, don't fall for the Celestelias' sweet talk."
Pansy, that was unnecessary. Do you have some kind of grudge against my family?
"My grandfather, you see, once fell for the Celestelia family's smooth talk and had a terrible experience because of it."
"Oh? And what exactly happened?"
By all means, do tell.
There are plenty of nobles who invest recklessly without properly listening to explanations of the risks, then play the victim and say things like, "I was tricked in a money game!" Surely the ancestors of the Parkinson family were the same sort of people.
"Someone told him to invest in Gellert Grindelwald."
"..."
My sincerest apologies, Pansy's grandfather. We caused you a great deal of trouble at the time.
For reference, Gellert Grindelwald was the dark wizard considered the most dangerous until the emergence of Voldemort.
He rampaged across Europe and America, but was ultimately defeated in a duel with Dumbledore. In a fitting twist of poetic justice, he ended up imprisoned in a cell of Nurmengard Castle, which he himself had built.
As for my own ancestors, well, to put it simply, they were market speculators.
"The age belongs to Grindelwald! This is definitely a buy!"
On the basis of that prediction, they drove up the price of bonds issued by the German Ministry of Magic, where Grindelwald had his base. Then, the moment they sensed that Dumbledore had resolved to challenge him to a duel, they quickly sold off their bubble-inflated Grindelwald stocks at a high price and snapped up Dumbledore stocks, namely British Ministry of Magic bonds, at rock-bottom prices.
As you know, Dumbledore emerged victorious, so British Ministry of Magic bonds skyrocketed in value, and my ancestors reportedly reaped an enormous and outrageous profit from the difference.
Well, to put it mildly, that was scummy behavior. I wonder who they take after.
"Setting my ancestors aside, a lot can happen if you live long enough. Life is long, after all, so let's live positively, Miss Pansy."
"Don't wrap it up like some touching moral lesson. Hey, Millicent, stop grinning and say something too."
"Well, I was just thinking that another intense one has shown up again."
While soothing a sulking Pansy, Millicent Bulstrode reached out for a handshake.
She gave off a solid, sturdy impression, and unlike Pansy and Daphne, she wore little to no makeup. She looked like the type who would be strong if you put her in basketball or volleyball.
"Anyway, nice to meet you, Elaina."
"Yes, likewise, Miss Millicent."
When I shook Millicent's hand, she gripped mine with the strength you would expect from her appearance. In moments like this, if you let yourself be looked down on, you lose.
"Heh, not bad."
I returned the grip just as firmly, smiling all the while, and Millicent's eyebrows shot up like a street thug who had found something interesting.
(They're all rather strong personalities, but it doesn't look like I'll be bored.)
After that, the four of us chatted while preparing for the next day, gradually falling asleep one by one. That was my first night at Hogwarts.
(End of chapter)
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