After a short wait, the professors began arriviering through a side door. Eae aowledged Alex with a polite nod. Over the past two years, many of them had e to admire his disciplined and hard-w attitude. Though he was reserved and rarely showed up at social events, his excellent academic performand behavior in css had earned him their respect.

  When Snape walked in, his sharp gaze nded on Alex, and he gave a brief nod, lifting his slightly in aowledgment. Snape’s opinion of Alex was mixed—he saw him as petent but distant, respectful but hard to read, a student who kept his thoughts well-guarded. If it hadn’t been for the charm Alex wore, one Snape reized as something from Lily, he might not have aowledged him at all.

  “Severus, you’re lucky,” one professor remarked casually. “Alex just submitted a paper proposing a new spell. It’s still inplete, but it shows a lot of promise.”

  Snape’s expression didn’t ge, but there was a flicker of i in his eyes.

  At the end of the st term, Alex and Professor Bones had finalized their resear a spell called the Echo Spell. Though Professor Flitwiew the two worked closely together, he hadn’t expected such a well-structed piece of work from a student. When he read through the thesis, he was genuinely impressed. Even though the spell still cked a finalized intation, its framework was advanced enough to warrant submission to tury Charms, a highly respected publication.

  While some assumed Professor Bones had been the main tributor to the project, with Alex listed first only as a gesture of encement, both Bones and Flitwick crified that the spell’s cept and structure were rgely Alex’s work. With such strong endorsements, Alex was beginning to draw attention from the academiunity. It wouldn’t be long before letters from spell researchers and charm experts started piling up for him.

  Hearing Flitwick’s praise for a Slytherin student, Snape’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. Maybe this young man wasn’t as unremarkable as he had thought.

  As Snape mulled this over, Dumbledore ehe Great Hall, his presence warm and reassuring as always. He greeted everyoh a nod before taking his seat at the ter of the teachers’ table. Beside him sat a newer—a young wizard in his te twenties with a noticeably downcast expression. Alex raised an eyebrow at the man’s gloomy demeanor. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Alex thought wryly. He already looks miserable.

  Before Alex could dwell on the man’s sour mood, the Great Hall doors opened, aurning students from sed through seventh year streamed in, filling the hall with chatter and ughter.

  “Alex!” a familiar voice called out. Vivian spotted him at the Slytherin table and hurried over, her face lighting up with a smile.

  “Long time no see, Vivian! How was your summer?” Alex asked, returning her grin.

  Vivian plopped down beside him, looking sheepish. “It was alright, I guess. But hey, did you finish the summer homework? I pletely fot about it until the train ride back! I spent all summer pying poker.”

  Alex sighed, rubbing his forehead in mock frustration. “How did I end up with su unreliable friend?” he muttered, pulling his homework out of his bag and handing it to her.

  Before Vivian could grab it, a group of pure-blood studeered the hall. Their eyes nded oheir expressions brimming with hostility. Sensing the tension, Vivian leaned closer and whispered, “You won’t believe how bold those guys have gotten this year. Last year, they mostly kept to themselves, but now? They’re strutting around like they own the pce. Orain, they told everyoo follow Yaxley’s lead and not to talk to you—or risk being ‘tainted.’ you believe that?”

  Alex’s face remained calm, but his voice held a touch of sarcasm. “Didn’t the Dark Lord vanish? Where do they get the nerve?”

  Vivian sighed. “Yaxley’s the udent cil president, and Wilkes is a prefect. They’re ag like nothing’s ged. It’s worse than ever. Higgs, one of the senior Quidditch pyers, got spped twice by Wilkes orain just for talking back. It’s a mess!”

  While Viviaed, Alex watched Yaxley and his group shove youudents aside to cim seats as if they owhe table. Alex’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile.

  Vivian was about to tinue when Alex interrupted with a smirk. “Didn’t they warn you not to talk to me?”

  Vivian huffed, crossing her arms. “I’m not scared of them! Let them try something—my mom would have their heads. And besides, my Poker Club’s not just for fun.”

  Alex chuckled, pleased by her defiance, before turning his attention to the new arrivals. Professonagall had led the first-years into the hall, their nervous faces sing the room in awe. Among them, Alex spotted a familiar face—Bill Weasley. Even in the crowd, his fiery red hair was unmistakable. Taller than Alex remembered, Bill looked around curiously until his gaze met Alex’s. Reizing him, Bill broke into a grin.

  The two exged a quick, friendly nod before Professonagall began the S Ceremony.

  “David Gamper,” she called. A small, nervous boy stepped forward, his wide eyes darting around the hall. Ohe S Hat touched his head, it quickly decred, “Slytherin!” The boy looked relieved as he shuffled over to the Slytherin table.

  A few er, Magall called, “Bill Weasley.” Bill sat oool, fidgeting slightly as the Hat deliberated for a moment before shouting, “Gryffindor!” The Gryffindor table erupted into cheers as Bill joihem, his nerves melting into a bright smile.

  Alex couldn’t help but smile. “No surprise there,” he murmured, watg the Gryffindors wele Bill with open arms.

  Meanwhile, the space around Alex at the Slytherin table was noticeably empty—most students were keeping their distance, wary of Yaxley and his group. The exception was David, the newly sorted first-year, who hesitantly took a seat across from Alex.

  “Hi, I’m David Gamper,” the boy said shyly.

  Alex gave him a warm smile. “o meet you, David. I’m Alex Wilson. You just call me Alex.”

  Vivian leaned over with a teasing grin. “And I’m Vivian. You call me Viv. Wele to Slytherin!”

  David’s face lit up. “Thanks! You call me Dave or David, I don’t mind. Actually, I know the Bulstrode name—my grandmother was a Bulstrode,” he added eagerly.

  Vivian’s eyes widened in surprise. “No way! We’re reted, then!” She ughed. “Though, in Slytherin, everyone’s probably reted somehow.” She gri him, clearly amused by the ce.