You follow a winding tunnel down into the dungeons, below the lake. The light is eerie and green and skulls seem to stare at you from the walls.
"Basilisk!" you say, and a stone door concealed in the wall slides open.
You are home.

And inscription over the fireplace flickers in the dim light:

"In Slytherin, you'll make your real friends, these cunning folks use any means to achieve their ends"

Draco Malfoy smirks at you from his seat by the fire,

"Get in here, you wouldn't want to make friends with the wrong sort of wizard, if you get my drift."