As Walden polished off his second helping of strawberry trifle, the food vanished, the plates cleaned themselves, and the feast was abruptly over. The headmaster, Dumble-something, made a few comments, bid them goodnight, and shooed them off. He seemed like an alright fellow, if not a little soft-hearted. From what the older Slytherins had said, he could be a right pain to deal with, despite the fact that he was relatively new to his position. But, he was nothing that he and his friends couldn't handle (or so the youngest MacNair thought).

As directed, the trio followed their house prefects, fifth year Olaf Parkinson and sixth year Katrina Lembai, down the staircases leading to the dungeons.

"Alright firsties, just incase you couldn't pick up on it by now, the passageway to our quarters is in the dungeons," Olaf called out to the new students behind him, his voice a bored monotone.

"Just the passageway?" Bella piped up. She was simply jumping at a chance to make herself look better than this snooty upper classman.

"Just the passageway," Katrina responded, her words clipped. "The actual dormitories and common room are under the lake."

The eldest Black wrinkled her nose. "That's simply awful. All my robes'll get moldy. And the place is probably all damp and chilly and full of mildew."

"Only the best for the Slytherins," Parkinson laughed bitterly. "You'll get used to it after a while. We'll teach you a spell to keep your things in good shape. I advise you to remember it, otherwise you'll find your belongings ruined within a week." The new students nodded, struck dumb by all of the atrociousness.

"It's not all bad, though," Lembai added, her voice graced with light cheer. "The passageway is pretty long, so if Slughorn has to come down because we're making a ruckus, we can cover it all up before he gets to the common room. They'll probably figure things out soon though, and change the location of our rooms; so don't be surprised if it happens."

"Yeah," the younger prefect cut her off. "That brings up something else. We know you got into this house because you're crafty, but being crafty doesn't make you sneaky. Us Slytherins like to keep our business a secret, so I advise you to keep your mouth shut about certain things. This includes any gossip about people more powerful than you, the location of the common room, and the password."

"Obviously," Katrina snorted. "Only spread people's secrets if it's to your advantage. That's the Slytherin way." Suddenly, the hallway ended, and at a solid wall, no less.

"Password is Parseltoungue," Olaf said. "Remember it, and keep it between your housemates."

The bricks in the wall slid aside as he spoke, much like the entrance to Diagon Alley, and their new common room was before them. It looked like a rather unfriendly place; the ceilings were low and everything in the area looked damp. The walls were mostly bare, except for a few sparse bulletin boards, framed pictures of the House quidditch team, a couple of trophy cases, and some portraits. The whole room seemed green, as if it were moldy, and it smelled like a large body of fresh water.

It did have a few good features, though. The fireplace was simply beautiful, as was the furniture, and the ceiling was enchanted to see through into the bottom of the lake. Fish glittered above them in huge schools, and every now and then a mermaid or kelpie would swim past. It was absolutely amazing.

"It looks even better from the dorms," a voice offered. The voice in question belonged to second year Rodolphus Lestrange, a family friend of both the MacNairs and the Blacks. He grinned at them, hands in his pockets, looking quite proud of the little trio. "Some sorting you three had. Entertaining, to say the least."

"Yes, well, we aim to please," Lucius sneered.

"Obviously not, Malfoy, at least not with your attitude," the older student retorted. "Better watch yourself, or I might just curse you right into your shoes."

"I believe the phrase is out of your shoes, Roddy-kins, and you might as well stop mouthing off: We all know you couldn't curse yourself out of a paper bag," Bellatrix interjected, coming to the defense of her closer and wealthier friend.

"'Trix, I don't wanna bring you into this, so don't make me," Rodolphus warned, drawing his wand. His friend and lackey, fellow second year Barty Crouch Junior, looked over cautiously, drawing himself out of his seat by the fire in order to investigate.

"So why don't you do yourself a favor and back out while you still can? If you involve yourself in an altercation with any of us, you'll be dealing with all of us," Walden warned. "I think it'd be wiser to back off, Rodolphus. Honestly, we may be first years, but it won't do you any favors to make us your enemies. You know better than that." The other first years watched in wonder, gaping at the famous three among them with awe.

"Don't tell me what to do, MacNair!" Rodolphus bit back with a savage rage. Several first years yelped as his wand shot off orange sparks, nearly setting fire to one girl's hair.

"Dolly, I think it'd be best to listen to Walden," Bellatrix cooed, approaching the older boy slowly. "We'd be better as allies than opponents, don't you think?"

The tall brunette lowered his wand reluctantly, his anger cooling to a slow simmer rather than a rolling boil. Any well bred child knew that Rodolphus Lestrange felt something for Bellatrix Black: it was as obvious as the green of summer grass or the blue of a clear sky. He claimed she was like a little sister, and that he protected her so fiercely because she was the kind of delicate little girl who needed such protecting. However, anyone who had ever even been introduced to the eldest Black sister knew she was no such girl, and that Rodolphus had other reasons for following her every move. Bellatrix knew it, too, and she used this information to her advantage.

"Watch it, Malfoy; next time your little guardian angel might not be around to protect you," Lestrange spat, shoving his wand in his pocket. He pushed past the three younger students, squeezing Bellatrix's hand in passing before heading upstairs to his dormitory. Crouch followed in his path, dark eyes darting all over as he ran to catch up with the taller boy's long strides, tripping up the staircase in his hurry. After a moment, the dark haired little girl whipped around, shoving the offending boy in question.

"Don't do that again, Lucy, he's right," Bella warned, giving the blonde boy a dark look.

"Wh-What?!" he sputtered, stepping back in surprise. "Are you kidding?! He practically attacks me, I don't even get a word in edgewise, and here you are, reprimanding me? Why don't you go tell off your plaything?"

"Because he's more easily manipulated; I don't have to. But Walden's right, he makes a better friend than enemy. He's got connections, in the school and out. We could use him," she coaxed.

The wealthy heir snorted with disdain. "Please. Our money can make better connections than any second year, no matter who they are. Money talks, Bella."

"So does a name like Lestrange," she answered.

"But a name like Black speaks a whole lot louder," Lucius retorted.

"Regardless, Mal, a friendship is danger countered best," Walden quoted sagely.

"Yeah," Bellatrix brightened. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Why bother when dead men tell no tales?" her bitter friend spat. So, rather than continue the verbal duel, she punched him in the arm. The Malfoy heir glowered down at her before sweeping off, storming up the boy's staircase.

"Don't worry," Walden patted her shoulder. "I'll try and talk to him. If he doesn't see the sense in what we're saying after I'm done with him, then he will by morning. Despite his stubbornness, we both know that Mal is, by nature, a logical guy."

"Doesn't make him any less of a jackass," she muttered, retreating to her staircase. "'Night, Waldy. Good luck with the albino."

Walden nodded to himself, waving her farewell as he headed for his own dormitories, a long argument ahead of him. Once he arrived at the door, he realized he was quite right: the door was already magically locked. He quickly charmed it open, rolling his eyes at his friends immaturity. But, the locking was only a foreshadowing. Once he'd actually gotten in, he had a minor duel with his friend, the two shouting at each other between shots as Avery cowered under his blankets, until they had both significantly tired themselves, and Lucius passed out on his four-poster.

Walden dragged himself over to his desk, plopping down in the chair. Slowly, he prepared a quill and took out a piece of parchment to write.

Dear Mum,

All's well here at school. Hogwarts seems nice. Me, Lucius, and Bellatrix all got sorted into Slytherin. Please tell Mrs. Malfoy, because Lucius hasn't written and he's already asleep. More letters to come.

-Walden

And with that, the brunette changed into his night-clothes and crawled into his oak four poster, looking out at the lake through the transparent walls and ceilings of his dormitory before pulling the curtains shut and falling asleep.

Yes, Walden thought, fading off into oblivion, Hogwarts is quite nice. These next few years should be rather fun.