Alex’s cold stare silenced the whispers as he continued, "At the Easter feast, you slipped a dose of Weasley’s Wildfire Whiz-bangs into Leo Malcolm’s goblet of pumpkin juice. Why? Because back in third year, he accidentally knocked over your enchanted music box during curfew." A ripple of gasps spread through the room. Alex’s gaze swept over the assembled students, his voice sharp and unwavering.
"But that wasn’t all. When several Slytherins planned to retaliate against Gryffindors for a prank, you tipped off Filch. Thanks to your little warning, two of our own were caught and sentenced to detention—scrubbing out the trophy room by hand." His eyes narrowed. "Do you know why those students do that? Because one of them, Joey Hickman, tried to shield a half-blood student from being hit by a dung bomb. He dragged them to safety, only to end up in Filch’s trap. In the end, both were given detention, and Joey—who you’ve openly scorned—was the one who stood up for his housemate."
Jim’s face paled, his voice shaking as he stammered, "How… how do you know all this?" Before Alex could respond, angry voices erupted from the crowd. "What? That was you?" Leo Malcolm shouted, his face red with fury. "I thought it was the school meals that made me sick for weeks after Easter!"
"I knew Filch showing up then wasn’t a coincidence," Joey added, his voice trembling with rage. "You betrayed us! What kind of Slytherin stabs his own housemates in the back?"
All eyes turned to Jim, who hung his head, the confidence drained from his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Alex cut him off with a raised hand. "Do you want me to continue?" Alex’s tone was chilling, his eyes sweeping the room. "Because I will. And the more I say, the more pathetic you’ll look."
Alex turned his gaze to the rest of the students, his voice rising. "Arrogance. Pettiness. Laziness. Vanity. Selfishness. No sense of loyalty or pride. That’s what I see in this house right now. And maybe you think acting like this somehow proves you’re worthy of Slytherin. Well, let me tell you—it doesn’t." The room fell silent, every student lowering their gaze. No one dared to argue because they knew, deep down, Alex was right. The truth of his words hung heavily in the air, impossible to deny.
Alex straightened, his expression calm but serious. "That’s why I called this meeting. As your prefect, it’s my responsibility to address these issues head-on. What kind of house should Slytherin be?" He stepped forward, his voice steady but commanding. "Look around you. These are your housemates. Are you content to treat them as enemies? To betray them? To turn a blind eye while they struggle? Are you willing to keep living like this—divided, selfish, and aimless?"
The students exchanged uncertain glances. For the first time, they really looked at one another, and the weight of Alex’s words began to sink in. They had spent years ignoring the people they shared their dorms with, dismissing them as rivals instead of allies. "Answer me!" Alex’s voice rang out, sharp and powerful. "Are you still willing to be nothing but selfish, muddy waste?" A tense silence followed. The students hesitated, their fear of speaking up holding them back. But Alex wasn’t done. His eyes bore into them, and his voice rose again, more forceful this time. "Answer me!"
This time, Joey Farley, one of the more troublesome pure-blood students, was the first to break the silence. His voice cracked as he shouted, "I don’t want to!"
His defiance lit a spark in the room. One by one, the students joined in.
"I don’t want to!"
"I don’t want to!"
"I don’t want to!"
Their voices grew louder, more unified, until the entire room was shouting in rhythm. Fists pumped into the air, and for the first time in years, the students of Slytherin House felt a shared sense of purpose.
Alex watched, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He raised his hands, and the noise gradually subsided. "Good," he said, his voice calm but filled with conviction. "It seems there’s hope for you yet. You might still be stuck in the mud, but that doesn’t mean you can’t rise above it." He took a step back, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "Remember this: We are Slytherins. We were born in the mud, but we rise to greatness. We seek power, we embrace ambition, and we strive for excellence. We are calm, we are strong, and we are unrelenting. Glory to Slytherin!"
"Glory to Slytherin!" the crowd echoed.
"Glory to Slytherin!"
Their voices grew louder, more confident with each repetition, until the stone walls of the common room seemed to hum with their passion.
Even Vivian, who had recently grown more serene and detached, and the usually shy and reserved David, were now loudly cheering alongside the crowd. Alex assessed their reaction with a satisfied nod. ‘The morale’s not bad, as I expected military way is really effective, ’he thought. He raised a hand to signal for quiet, but the cheers from the young wizards in the room continued to ripple for a while, the excitement too much for them to immediately contain. “It seems you’re all ready to make a change,” Alex said, his questioning eyes sweeping across the room.
The crowd, still buzzing with energy, nodded enthusiastically. “Good.” Alex’s tone shifted slightly, becoming sharper. “But shouting slogans won’t be enough. If we want real change, we need real action.” His voice turned colder, sharper. “And if you want change, you’ll have to listen to me. No compromises, no excuses. If you don’t follow my lead, don’t blame me for being harsh.”
There was a momentary hush, then someone in the audience called out, “No problem! Just tell us what we need to do.”
“Yeah,” another chimed in. “We’re ready to follow your lead!”
The confidence Alex had ignited wasn’t snuffed out by his sharp tone. If anything, their resolve seemed to grow stronger. They instinctively chose to trust him. “Alright,” Alex said, nodding in approval. He waved his wand, summoning a blank curtain that slowly unfurled behind him on the steps. “To make real change, we’ll focus on achieving two goals,” he began. “First, we must win the House Cup this year. That’s just the secondary goal, though.”
A ripple of surprise ran through the crowd. ‘The House Cup? A secondary goal?’ Alex ignored the murmurs and continued. “The second, and more important goal, is that everyone in Slytherin achieves an average grade of ‘Exceeds Expectations’ or higher. No exceptions.”
Gasps spread through the crowd. Many exchanged uneasy glances. Winning the House Cup was daunting enough—they were used to trailing in third place most years. But achieving an average grade of ‘Exceeds Expectations’ across the board? That felt downright impossible. “Are you serious?” someone whispered.
Alex’s sharp gaze swept across the room, silencing any protests before they could start. “To achieve these goals, we’ll need to make some changes. There are three steps we must follow, and I won’t tolerate anyone breaking the rules.” He flicked his wand, and three lines of glowing text appeared on the curtain behind him: Organizational Structure, Disciplinary Rules, Two Sessions and One Exam.