1

The fifth year at Hogwarts was not merely a term; for Slytherin, it was the year of undisputed dominion. While the rest of the castle crumbled under the suffocating decrees of Dolores Umbridge, the dungeons breathed a sigh of triumphant arrogance.

At the center of it all was Draco Malfoy. The silver 'P' on his chest gleamed with a predatory light, matched only by the 'I' of the Inquisitorial Squad. He moved through the corridors like a young king surveying a conquered territory, his cloak billowing behind him, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle like heavy artillery.

He didn't just enforce the rules; he relished the terror they inspired. For Draco, 1995 was the year the Malfoy name reclaimed its absolute right to rule. He would stand in the middle of the Entrance Hall, spinning his wand lazily, eyes searching for a Gryffindor to break.

Draco leaned against the cold stone wall, his smirk widening as he adjusted his emerald tie. He looked at a group of trembling first-years.

"Look at them, clutching their books as if knowledge could save them from the inevitable. Dumbledore’s time is a flickering candle in a hurricane,.."