Once dessert had been cleared away, Dumbledore rose again, signaling the end of the feast. The Sorting Hat had sung its final song, concluding the ceremony with a whimsical reminder that, though the houses were distinct, they all shared a common purpose—learning. As students began to stand, the prefects quickly gathered the first-years to lead them to their dormitories.
By the time the Slytherins reached the dungeon's entrance, one of them whispered "Glory," and the door unlocked.
As they stepped into the common room, the atmosphere shifted. Older students, especially the sixth and seventh years, clustered in tight groups, murmuring in low, measured tones. Draco sensed the change before it fully unfolded—maybe first-year Slytherins were about to face their first real test. The game had just begun, but already, the stakes were rising.
A boy, likely a sixth-year by his appearance, stepped forward, his presence demanding immediate attention.
"Most of you are here to study, to improve, to grow stronger. But some of you... some of you came to rule, to challenge, to carve out something different. To prove you're set apart. As the Hat said, Slytherin houses those who will do whatever it takes to achieve their desires. If you want something, you must prepare for it—starting now, starting here."
He paused, letting his words sink in as his gaze swept over their faces. "Although the prefects are chosen from the fifth years, in Slytherin, there's a tradition—each year has its own unofficial leader."
"In one month, there will be a duel. The winner will lead the rest for the year."
His words settled over the first-years like a dark cloud. This wasn't just about excelling in classes; it was about survival, power, and ambition. In Slytherin, only the cunning would thrive.
After some additional instructions, the sixth-year turned toward the spiral staircase with a final, dismissive glance. "Remember," he said over his shoulder, "in Slytherin, it's not about who you are—it's about what you're willing to become."
Later, we were shown to our respective rooms.
I entered mine and locked the door behind me. It was a single room. Apparently, students could apply for a private room, though it required both permission and money—something most Slytherin parents readily provided. Even students from other houses, if their parents could afford it, have their private rooms. It wasn't like the movies where everyone shared a common dormitory. Shared rooms were mostly for muggle-borns or students from families with limited means.
I was grateful for the privacy, especially with my own bathroom. I walked to the window. It was locked, and through the glass, I could see water outside—the room was submerged beneath the Black Lake. A small school of fish swam past, their graceful movements a surreal reminder of how far beneath the surface we were.
After changing into more comfortable clothes, I collapsed onto the bed with a sigh of relief. Although my previous life had been busier than this, the train ride and the ceremony had taken a toll on my new body.
I checked the system once again.
Name: Draco Malfoy
Race: Human
Points: 11
Mode:
Normal: 10 cards per 60 points
Specific:
Wizarding World: 10 cards per 30 points
Powers/Abilities: Mana manipulation, etc.
Summons: None
Characters assimilated: None
In progress: None
Cards: Daredevil, Crown, etc.
I hadn't used the template earlier since I didn't know what I would experience. That's why I didn't begin the assimilation on the train. Now that I had some peace and quiet, I decided to activate it without delay.
As I used the card, I felt no immediate change—no super senses, no radar. The progress read 2%. Should I sleep on it? Maybe then the percentage would increase further.
A mansion
Lucius Malfoy sat alone in his dimly lit study, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across his cold, calculating features. The mahogany chair creaked slightly as he leaned forward, the weight of his thoughts heavy in the room. Before him lay a stack of documents, meticulously arranged, with names and faces attached to them. Most of the photographs were crossed out, dark lines slashed violently across their faces, signaling their fates were already sealed.
Only five photographs remained untouched, their faces staring up at him with a haunting stillness. Lucius' pale fingers traced the edge of one of the photos before pausing. His eyes narrowed as a slow, calculating smile spread across his lips.
"Just five more," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with quiet intensity. "And everything will be mine."
He straightened, his gaze sharpening as he surveyed the remaining names, each representing a final piece in his intricate plan—a plan years in the making. The names weren't just individuals; they were obstacles, barriers that had to be removed to secure his dominance over black.
The silence in the room was punctuated by the soft rustle of parchment as he shuffled the papers, reviewing each target carefully.
With each crossed-out name, his power had grown, and now, so close to his goal, the anticipation was almost unbearable.
His fingers hovered over one untouched photo. He picked it up, studying the face of a young boy with strikingly similar features to his own. Draco.
Lucius's smile tightened, twisting into something darker. His thoughts drifted back to Draco's behavior today. His mood soured. He placed the photo back down, sliding a silver dagger across its edge, watching as a thin line appeared in the paper, severing Draco's image ever so slightly.
"All in due time," he whispered to himself.
The door creaked open slightly, and a woman with white golden hair appeared in the doorway, her white-gold hair glimmering faintly in the dim light. Her expression was unreadable, but her gaze flickered toward the photos on the desk. She said nothing, but her presence seemed to anchor Lucius in his thoughts. He glanced at her, his smile returning, inviting her silently to share in the triumph that was yet to come.
"Five more," he repeated softly, "and black will be no more."
She stepped closer, sitting gracefully on his lap. His hands began to roam over her body, his fingers tightening as they grasped her breasts. He inhaled deeply, savoring her scent.
"Just a few more years," Lucius murmured, "and we will be together."
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Author's pov
Can Daredevil still find someone who is using sound erase magic?
Give Some future/plot ideas to add in story