Who let this evil dragon into Hogwarts!

Chapter 12 The Snake King

"...Can't you make an exception?"

"Poisson struggled to his death," he said.

"I am a hat with principles."

Sorting Hat's tone was firm.

"So, how about Ravenclaw? I'm a studious person; I've even previewed a whole year's worth of textbooks!"

"Pursuing power is not the same as pursuing knowledge."

"Okay, Gryffindor is fine, right? I'm actually super brave!"

"My child, as I understand it, hiding in a forest for eleven years because of an imaginary enemy cannot be called brave."

"What happened to respecting the little wizard's choice?" Persson couldn't help but complain.

He vaguely remembered that Harry was sorted into Gryffindor because he resisted Slytherin.

Why can't he?

"Uh... that's theoretically true," the Sorting Hat's voice held a hint of embarrassment. "A young wizard's personal opinion is also an important basis for sorting. After all, if a young wizard doesn't agree with the academy's philosophy, forcing a sort won't yield good results..."

"Then why—"

"But you're just too innocent."

"you--"

Before Poisson could refute further, the Sorting Hat, as if shoved a hot potato, eagerly announced the destined house:

"Slytherin!"

Sparse applause filled the Great Hall. Most of the Slytherins were scrutinizing the unfamiliar surname, while Malfoy stretched his finger to his neck in a threatening manner, gesturing foolishly.

"Don't worry," the Sorting Hat whispered reassuringly, "Headmaster Dumbledore treats all four houses equally."

"Heh, really?"

Poisson threw down his Sorting Hat and looked up again.

Dumbledore remained as kind and approachable as ever, his smile unchanged.

Only those eyes, those deep blue eyes hidden behind the crescent-shaped lenses, flashed a subtle, almost imperceptible scrutiny.

Dumbledore: Favorability -10, Vigilance +10

The wonderful campus life seems to have almost ended right from the start...

"Sigh... I guess I'll just have to take it one step at a time."

Persson sighed and went to the Slytherin table.

The atmosphere here is hardly friendly.

The upperclassmen made no attempt to hide their disdain, their eyes practically screaming, "You stinking outsider, trying to beg in Slytherin?"

Malfoy finally stopped his childish throat-slitting act and instead tried to exaggerate his experience on the train, attempting to portray Poisson as a tyrannical barbarian.

It wasn't that no young wizards wanted to talk to Persson; it's just that those who could enter Slytherin were either pure-bloods or shrewd individuals, and no one wanted to risk offending the Malfoy family by befriending a half-blood or even a Muggle-born wizard.

However, Poisson didn't care about this.

He was even pleased with this!

The more Slytherin ostracized him, the less Dumbledore would see him as the next Voldemort.

With that in mind, Persson simply went to the corner of the long table and distanced himself from the others.

"Why don't you go over there?"

A hoarse voice suddenly came from under the table, and a translucent head with empty eyes appeared on the plate. Poisson realized that this was not food when he stuck his fork into it.

"No need," Persson shook his head. Just then, Dumbledore, who had stood up, said, "Idiot! Crybaby! Trash! Twist!"

"Yeah, a bunch of trash, no need for that."

The ghost's voice was chilling. He turned his head to look at Malfoy, who was mocking Dumbledore for being crazy, and the little wizards fawning over Malfoy. His expression did not change, but his tone was inexplicably colder.

"Since that person graduated, Slytherin has become worse with each generation."

"That's how inbreeding works," Persson nodded in agreement, forking the fried pork chop from the ghost's head and stuffing it into his mouth. "Hmm... So, who exactly are you?"

"Barrow, Blood Man Barrow."

The ghost emerged from under the plate, revealing the mottled silver bloodstains on his robe and the heavy shackles.

"I am the ghost of Slytherin, and one of the first students of this house."

"Still a veteran?" Persson raised an eyebrow. "So, could you please move aside? I really don't want to taste Yorkshire pudding in someone else's shoes... No, please don't stand here either, your attire is too shabby, it's affecting my appetite."

After hearing this, the blood-soaked Barrow drifted away in silence, his gaunt face growing even more somber.

"Is this an attempt to win me over?"

Persson could sense that this veteran seemed somewhat dissatisfied with the current state of Slytherin and saw him as a second Voldemort, capable of leading Slytherin to greatness once again.

"You have a sharp eye, but I have no intention of supporting this bullshit pure-blood ideology. They're just a bunch of ignorant mortals; how can they be compared to true pure-blooded dragons?"

For Persson, causing trouble on Hogwarts campus was hardly a wise move, and Dumbledore would not tolerate the next Dark Lord growing stronger under his nose.

Thinking of this, Posson stuffed a few more bites of beef into his mouth, feeling the pure energy nourishing his body, and a smile appeared on his lips.

If I can't cause trouble on campus, I can just go off campus, right?

Dumbledore is currently busy playing house with Harry, so he probably won't care what a little dragon that has sneaked into the Forbidden Forest is up to...

……

After finishing off all the food in the surrounding area.

Dumbledore stood up and spoke to the drowsy young wizards about the forbidden forest and the dangerous corridor on the right side of the fourth floor.

It's hard to say how effective these warnings were.

"Now, before everyone goes to bed, let's sing the school song together!"

Dumbledore waved his wand merrily, and amidst the teachers' stiff expressions and the strains of the Funeral March, the dinner party came to a perfect end.

"Slytherin freshmen, keep up!"

The girl wearing the class monitor's medal was the first to stand up, lightly tapped her wine glass with a silver spoon, and then walked out of the auditorium without looking back.

The newcomers looked at each other, but dared not disobey Gemma Farley, who was the prefect, and followed behind like little ducks, with Persson, as usual, at the back of the line.

"I imagine that, as Slytherin students, you must have heard all sorts of rumors about Slytherin..."

As Gemma spoke, she continued walking, her heavy heels clicking on the steps leading down to the ground.

"Some say that many dark wizards come from Slytherin. Some say that Slytherin only cares about pure blood. Others say that Slytherin is full of selfish, power-hungry bastards..."

"I do not deny that."

Gemma stopped in front of a smooth stone wall without looking back. In fact, she never looked back the entire way, as if she didn't care at all whether anyone had been left behind.

"Glory." She whispered the command, and the stone wall transformed into an archway. Behind the archway was a long and low hut made of rough, large stones. The nearly extinguished fireplace crackled and burned in the corner, and the leaping flames were tinged with an eerie, ghostly green by the deep lake below the window.

The lounge furniture was made of dark wood and looked very expensive, but at the moment it was all piled up haphazardly against the wall, like the high-stacked stands of an arena.

Senior students filed into the lounge, and no one left. They sat down in twos and threes in the audience seats, making room for a stage in the narrow lounge.

"Come in, little snakes."

Once everyone was in place, Gemma finally led the freshmen into the lounge, to the center, to be scrutinized by all the senior students.

"Whether you are power-hungry madmen, ambitious fanatics, or staunch advocates of pure-blood principles, Slytherin accepts you all!"

"There is only one kind of person who has no place in Slytherin."

"Come on, pull out your wands and prove you're not trash! Prove you have the power to trample others underfoot!"

"Each new student class will have a champion selected! The strongest among you will be chosen!"

"The choice is made: the snake king!"