There was a curse on Slytherin. Not the House. The boys. No matter how rich, powerful, or evil they became, every male Slytherin eventually ended up working at McDonald’s. Lucius Malfoy? Drive-thru. Draco Malfoy? Happy Meal specialist. Severus Snape? “The ice cream machine is unavailable,” he said with the same emotion he graded essays. Even Voldemort couldn’t escape. They made him wear the visor. As for me? I figured out the pattern, bought McDonald’s, and accidentally became the richest woman on Earth. Every ambitious Slytherin boy in history technically worked for me. Snape has never forgiven me for asking him to mop the lobby.