The Slytherin common room was dimly lit, the green glow of the lake casting shifting shadows across the stone walls.
Quiet.
Secluded.
Perfect.
They were all here.
Waiting.
Abraxas Malfoy stood near the fireplace, composed as always.
Beside him—
Avery,Lestrange,Rosier,Mulciber,and Nott.
My future.
My foundation.
They quieted the moment I stepped forward.
Not out of fear.
Respect.
Good.
"I've been thinking," I began calmly, my voice carrying easily through the room.
Abraxas tilted his head slightly. "That usually means something important."
A faint smile touched my lips.
"It does."
I let the silence stretch—just long enough to draw them in.
"The wizarding world is… flawed."
Lestrange scoffed lightly. "That's putting it mildly."
"Is it?" I replied, glancing at him. "Or have we simply failed to understand it properly?"
That caught them.
Good.
"The old ideologies," I continued, pacing slowly, "are narrow. Inefficient. Self-destructive."
Abraxas frowned slightly. "You're referring to blood purity."
"I am."
The room shifted.
Subtly.
Tension.
Not resistance.
But caution.
Good.
They were listening.
"Pure-blood supremacy alone," I said evenly, "is a losing strategy."
Silence.
Avery leaned forward. "You can't be serious."
"I am entirely serious."
I turned to face them fully now, my gaze sharp, unwavering.
"If we isolate ourselves—if we alienate half the magical population—we create enemies faster than we gain power."
Rosier crossed his arms. "Muggleborns dilute magic."
"No."
The word cut cleanly through the room.
"They dilute tradition," I corrected. "Not power."
A pause.
"Power," I continued, more softly now, "comes from talent. From knowledge. From ambition."
I let that sink in.
"Would you discard a brilliant wizard… simply because of their birth?"
No one answered.
Because they couldn't.
"Pure-bloods," I went on, "have advantages."
I nodded slightly toward Abraxas.
"Wealth. Influence. Ancient knowledge. Artifacts."
A small gesture.
Acknowledgment.
Respect.
"But muggleborns…"
A faint smile returned.
"…are unpredictable."
Interest sparked.
"They are not bound by tradition. They adapt faster. Innovate more freely."
Now they were thinking.
"This is not about abandoning pure-blood ideals," I said smoothly.
"It's about evolving them."
I stepped closer.
Closer to all of them.
"We don't build a world divided by blood."
A pause.
"We build a world ruled by the worthy."
Silence.
Heavy.
Electric.
And then—
Understanding.
Abraxas was the first to speak.
"…Merit."
I nodded.
"Exactly."
Not equality.
Not weakness.
Selection.
Lestrange's lips curled slightly. "And those who aren't… worthy?"
I met his gaze without hesitation.
"They serve."
Simple.
Cold.
Final.
No outrage.
No hesitation.
Because they understood.
This wasn't softness.
It was efficiency.
I turned slightly, my thoughts already moving ahead.
"This also means we expand beyond Britain."
That drew immediate attention.
Nott frowned. "Beyond Britain?"
"Yes."
"My future vision…"
I allowed the faintest hint of ambition to surface.
"…is not confined to a single country."
The room felt smaller now.
More intense.
"The wizarding world is global."
My voice lowered slightly.
"And so is our future."
Silence followed.
Not uncertain.
Anticipatory.
I could see it in their eyes.
They weren't just listening anymore.
They were believing.
But my thoughts stretched further still.
Beyond this room.
Beyond Britain.
To two names.
Two futures.
Alastor Moody.
A warrior.
Relentless.
Unyielding.
And—
Filius Flitwick.
A genius.
A master of magic.
"Both of them…"
I thought quietly.
"Will shape the future."
And this time—
They would shape it…
with me.
I looked back at the group.
My foundation.
My beginning.
"This is only the start," I said softly.
And for the first time—
It truly felt like it.