The Slybats & Me:
a Slytherin Story.
by the Fox.
YEAR ONE
Enter the SLYBATS
I remember clearly how it rained, like the sky was falling, that day so many years ago. Hagrid has just came with the
first years, and I glared at them, wondering how thick their dreaded little brains were. Even if I've taught three years,
that was my first year as the Head of a House, and I wasn't looking forward to the charge of a ton of dumb babies.
I saw her there, even if I didn't paid her too much attention till the Sorting hat yelled her name, the first one in go to
my newly- named domain, the House of Slytherin. Sure the half of those kids would have been retired from the school
faster you can say "AZKABAN!" if they knew the Potions master, Dumbledore's left arm and just-named Head of
Slytherin House was an ex death Eater. Fools. Good for them and their colons they never know.
The girl, the first to be called a Slytherin that year gained for it a slightly more detailed inspection that the rest, I
remember. She had a mane, which was the word to describe it: a wild amount of yellowish-golden-white-bronze hair,
a fey mix stumbling around his shoulders and back. She wore the black robes fairly well, being taller than some boys,
but his face was obscured for the long hair, letting only a pair of big dark blue eyes emerge. I remembered to have
thought she would give McGonagall lots to do, for his defiant stare, and her way to occupy the chair, all defiance.
She looked just like the Shrew, one of my favorite plays of the immortal bard, and I chuckled to myself, picturing a
Minerva with a beard trying to be Petruchio…
Her name was Seraphine Selsior.
I remember too her eyes peeking from the group of seven boys and two girls. We always had the lowest girl-rate from
the Sorting ceremony, I suppose that is because the rareness of breasts+ brain there outside, even if Minerva says its
more like the matter of evilness+stupidity+maleness vs superior female attributes. Suit yourselves, crowd.
I gave them the usual lecture and welcome to the Serpent's Nest, the Slytherin House Headquarters. They picked the
dorms they would be like to use for the seven-year length of their stance, and I even remember which ones they took:
the Oak the boys and the Cedar dorm the two girls. Seraphine's partner was Phebe Monroe, a spicy, laughing black
haired girl from the Monroe family fairly in-parentage of mine: my second-grade cousin was married to one of her
third grade aunts… anyway. In the male group, there was Deimos Malfoy, that blonde nose-in-the air oldest son of
Lucious, Terrance Avery, the little brown braided hyper Quidditch fan and Marcus Flint, that tall troll I foresee future
Quidditch captain. I remember that group rather fondly: they were one of my first works as a teacher, and they had a
special magic even from first year. And even as years passed, I never had other class so close at my heart.
Now, years later, my only remorse is to not have appreciated them when they were next to me. They were the Slybats,
the first and only answer to the Gryffindor's Marauders, and they had put to rest evenly bitterness long time held for
Slytherin and me. They became legend. And best than it, they became my pride.
But I'm hurrying things and I want to recall these days with all the care I can, like the look of old photos I still
treasure. I want to look at my memories as carefully as I am able in these last days of mine. I want to remember in the
infinite-faced, eternally shining gem of my past…
The first class we had it was the first time I truly put some attention to Sera… she was still Selsior to me.
And like always, it was all Neville Longbottom's fault.
It was my mistake, I took my eyes from him a millisecond and he pounced down his cauldron with a flick of his
incredibly clumsy hand. I swear, I'm thoroughly happy that Frank and his wife aren't sane to see the wonder they
fathered: the boy couldn't be clumsier if he done it in purpose. Yes, I'm cruel. Sue me.
But I remember even he surprised me when he managed to bath Seraphine Selsior with the Eating Acid Potion. My
heart jumped to my throat, I concede you, ready to see a girl became a tiny smoking mess in the floor. I was young
and foolish: I must have remembered it wasn't a chance between billions Longbottom had done the Potion right. I
yelled an appropriate charm to impermeabilize the girl, and them pulled a can of Dragon's Drool over her. It was
disgusting, but an effective way to save her from a mixed poisoning that it would take a week to antidote. Then I
carried her levitating with my own wand to Poppy, and it wasn't till I handed the girl to his hen-like high-pitched
yells, I was aware the girl hadn't said a word.
- Are you all right?- I asked, fearing a girl-worth shock, great things two XX in your genes do to your mind. But she
only nodded at me, no fear nor pain in her eyes. I thought I saw a flicker of something in her eyes, but I dismissed it
like a glint of tearful wails coming. I retire quickly to let Poppy deal with it- whiny first-years girls never where my
teacup- and I came back, grinning to myself in anticipation to nail Longbottom's clumsy ass into my office's wall. A
bloody Auror's ass, oh glee.
At lunch, when the girl came pale I only took a peek to see she was alive and in one piece and then went back to my
food. But I noticed some stares, and suddenly knew the difference: Ms Pomfrey had cut the splendid mane short,
shorter than mine in a boy-like cut that made her taller and thinner.
And I haven't imagined that glint, and it wasn't my imagination, it seems, when the girl walked with firms steps to the
Gryffindor's table, took the steaming corn soup plate from the table and with even firmer hands emptied it into Neville
Longbottom. I stood aghast for a moment as everybody else, and suddenly the Slytherin table cheered loudly: I saw
Malfoy and Monroe clapping, Flint and Avery whistling.
I almost did. I had to hide my smile in my cup when Dumbledore eyed me, and I only murmured that she had been
seriously provoked.
And it was thanks to Neville Longbottom that the Slybats were formed. And that was enough to justify his inane
existence in this planet, so I think I mustn't have scorned him too much after all.
I gave her a nil detention in the Serpent's nest, one hour. But I ordered her to go to see me in the morning, at the
unholy first hour in my office, and she nodded. I couldn't but notice the way her eyes shone without the mane
obscuring them, like two twin blue gems with green and violet shades. I'm afraid I couldn't help but smirk at her when
I gave her that lecture to make Dumbledore and McGonagall happy…
She looked like a boy the next day when she entered to my office, next morning. I was suppressing a yawn, because I
had sweet dreams thanks to her: no, no that type, you perverts, she was twelve, but dreams of myself pouring boiling
potions over Potter, Black, Pettigrew and Lupin by turn, laughing like a madman, and dancing around in chibi-size as
they became slimy gore. Sweet dreams. Then I started pouring soup over the whole Aurors autocratic bunch and the
Corny Minimagic…
- Ahem.- I pointed to a seat, but she stood, straight like an arrow, no fear or nervousness in her stance. I heard voices
outside, and I strained my ear.
- Someone waiting for you outside?-
- No.- she said with a clear, calm voice I liked.- Sir.- she added after a moment of thought.
I walked loudlessly and opened the door quickly. Three boys stumbled and fell face first into my carpet, and then
jumped into their feet so quick they seemed to have rebooted.
- SIR!- they hollered. Avery, Malfoy, Flint. I'm sure they knew each other from the nursery, being their parents part of
my own circle, Death Eaters Inc. Surely, if I've been caught-after-shag as they did – not too clever, but by the way
they were Death Eaters to the end, so what you can expect- the product of my clumsiness would be the fourth there.
Deimos was a mini picture of Lucious, but without the moustache. His blonde hair was perfectly cut, his robes the
finest black silk: he was a Malfoy from head to toe, his smile always slightly insulting. Marcus was taller of course, a
boy made to ride a broom, his well-muscled body clearly defined even in his shaggy and rumpled robes, the collar
unbuttoned, his untidy hair in a porcupine-like brown mess. And Avery, tiny thin cat he was, was already moving, his
impulsive hyperness making him shook his head to move his brown braid around like a cat's tail, his spicy grin back
in place.
- I suppose you were all leaning in my door by sheer casualty, I am wrong?-
- Yes, Sir.-
- Hai hai, sir.-
- Of course, Sir.-
I eyed them, and the three defy my gaze a while. Good. Malfoy was the last one to drop his gaze. Sera was still and
quiet behind me, very calm. I was getting to like the girl, even if she seemed to have no more life that my desk:
probably, less.
- Since you are so eager to know about Miss Selsior's punishment, you can as well to share it with her. You'll have
detention this night after dinner, in the Potion's classroom - They all nodded, and I added.- Tomorrow at eight I'll see
all you after class. You are dismissed now, and Miss Selsior…?-
- Yes, Sir?- she said, her quiet, calm voice monotone. I eyed her searching for a mocking smirk, but her face was
blank. Too much, in fact: I remember I thought she maybe was a bit mental and wondered why the Sorting Hat gave
her to us.
- Try to not bath anyone with soup again.-
That lunch, Sera bathed Longbottom with grape jelly.
I laughed my ass off in private. It was going to be a fun year.
The detention was a very light one, I never gave to my Slytherin children so much trouble, and I left them a while
revising the lessons as I went to chuckle alone a bit, still amused for the funniness of her blank face and her violent
actions.
- Do you think is funny, Severus?- McGonagall caught me snickering and eyed me with distaste. I did my best to not
nod happily.- If you can't talk to her, send it to me, that type of violence is not to be allowed in Hogwarths!-
- She's a Slytherin, so I'm in charge of her. And I'll talk to her into… contain her natural responses.- I promised
myself to talk to her, no matter how funny it was, mostly for my sake because I knew that if she baths Longbottom with
hot tea the next morning I would piss in my seat from too much repressed laughter.
- Natural? Neville has been scolded TWO times for that insane vengative girl!-
- She lost her hair for his fault.- I eyed Minerva and supressed agrin, looking her bush-like black hair so tightly tied.
She tied it with help of a Potion each morning but I've seen her without it and she looked like a monster.- I thought
you'll understand something like that, Minerva. It's a girl thing, and after all, it was * beautiful* hair.-
She left me, nose in the air. Funny. * Insanely * funny.
A crash and a boy' scream make me run back to the dungeon I left the boys, wondering if the girl had bathed
someone else. But when I entered the dungeon, something big slapped me in the face and I lost my wand. I heard
Minerva running behind, and her terrorized scream.
I recognized it from the floor: the Shrinking Snake. How they managed to drop and break the jar containing it and
free the beast I use for a lot of antidotes, I never knew: I supposed it was secure in the deepness of my Potions closet.
I was wrong.
I used it in his shrunk form of three centimeters, but breaking the highly durable, charmed glass jar they freed the
serpent to his real size of thirty meters.
I saw Terry Avery bleeding in the floor, mouth open. Marcus Flint was knelt in his side, trying to carry him in his
strong arms. Deimos was standing before them, with Sera Selsior in his side, his blonde eyebrows together, speaking
to the serpent in pársel: but the Grey snake is a class particularly vicious of ophidium, and I saw it was ready to
attack. With a groan I saw my wand in the other end of the room, and as I sat, my eyes found Deimos Malfoy's.
He gestured just with a little movement to Sera, Avery and Flint, and I saw their eyes glint. And they moved in synch.
Deimos yelled a charm to the serpent. Flint and Sera jumped against the serpent, and as they pushed away the
Serpent momentarily stupefied for Deimos's charm, Terry moved like a tiny monkey, grabbed my wand, and threw it to
my hands.
- Trampernova!- I yelled. The charm made the serpent to roll and stay tied like a soft lasso. I turned to them, but
before I've said anything Terry was in his knees, still panting.
- It was me… they aren't culprits… I broke the jar… I'm sorry…-
- Shut up, Terry.- Deimos said, very calm.- It was an accident.-
- You all…- I looked at them, still in my mind the way they worked together instinctively.- You'll going to help me to
make the Shrinking Potion needed to shrink this beast to good size again, and then, you'll get a detention.- I said.
And suddenly I had to suprise a grin.- But not in this room, that's clear.-
Flint and Avery chuckled and then sobered quickly.
Each one had their particular traits, their particular asignatures, too. Deimos had what I call the Measurement
instinct: Not only in Potions, but in life. He was always calm, always filled with the quiet energy of his family,
something Draco lacks greatly. He has the perfect instinct to make a Potion right, how to compensate and mix, how to
make it work. Exquisite care and intelligence, the ideal Potion maker with the long and sensitive hands needed. He
was able to know, just like me, just by touch how was the Potion going, something I never saw in students, a gift very
rare and uniquely Slytherin till now.
Terry and Marcus were Quidditch freaks. Marcus was no doubt the best Keeper we ever had, and not only for his tall
frame and quick reflexes. He has the team spirit needed: he was able to pull Terry's hyperness, Sera's aloofness,
Deimos's coldness, Ulyses sarcasm and Phebe vanity to be a group. He was friendly and open, something you don't
see usually in a Slytherin, and had an incredible charm. Maybe based in the fact he was always worrying for others.
Despite his big frame, his knotty hands, he was as caring and tender like a mom. The Gryffindors always called him a
troll: nothing more far from truth. If something, he was a caring bear. No wonder he was Hagrid's friend, and his
favorite course was Care Of Magic Creatures: caring for others came to him naturally, like breathing. Even the
unicorns accepted him, but I remember he was able to tame a wild medusa simply singing to her with his horrible
voice… And he was handsome too, with a wilderness, a relax in him: his hair, which I let him grew till his shoulders
after he won his first Cup, it was a dark bronze, and his smile wide and sincere under big golden eyes. He was the
purest heart between them, something that made his destiny maybe the cruelest.
Terry was the most unbelievable annoying boy I met. He was simply UNABLE to stay quiet. He moved, whirled,
danced, jumped, grabbed anything in sight, talked a mile per minute, and to put in plainly, he made himself the terror
of teachers. Potions were something I never was able to teach him, no matter how hard I tried. He was Minerva's
desperation, too: but he had a strange skill in Trelawny's class, and he was the favorite of that impostor, being able
to pull the difficult Divination prophecies with deadly accuracy from first year. In that class he was almost
unrecognizable: he was calm, and he talked slowly, making his natural beauty show: with his hair down and his eyes
closed, he looked a lovely young girl. I never knew if Trelawny used a spell or a drug-enhanced incense, but she
actually made the boy calm. Of course, she simply loved him. It was a great, wild talent in these: but everything paled
at his skill with the Snitch. He was the best Seeker we ever had, and I grew accustomed to see him zoom past my
window in his Nimbus 1900 following a golden sparkle, him a blur of green with his long braid whipping behind him.
I let him too use his hair long: without his braid, I'm sure he would have lost his equilibrium. It was like a cat's tail,
and now I miss the way it slapped me everytime he whirled after a bow, in the thousands of detentions I gave to that
little pixie. It slapped everything in close, teachers, food, broomsticks, but miraculously never got trapped anywhere,
except, I must said, Deimos's hand.
Phebe was the expert in transfiguration. She was Minerva's best student from the start, and the way she antagonized
her was an endless amusement-fount for me through the years. She was brilliant and a very good reserve Chaser too:
but the most part of Hogwarths remembered her, unfairly if you ask me, mainly for her starting beauty. She was pretty
at twelve, but at fifteen, when she started to develop her femininity she became a breathtaking sight. She had raven
hair, bright brown eyes, and the curvaceous, female figure so smooth it was rumored she used transfiguration charms
in it. But it wasn't true: she was natural, and joyful. Me, I remember better the sharp intelligence she had under all
that beauty sheen, and better that that, her spicy smile when she pulled one over the Gryffindors. Her laugh, and how
she turned the boys into gentlemen with her plain femininity. She was the Slytherin lady, and that is my best praise to
that girl with heart of dove.
Sera was her anthitesis, and no one was more surprised than me when they became sister-like friends. They loved
each other dearly, lively Phebe and dead-like Sera: Sera was silent, and almost everybody, even the teachers assumed
it was or mental or arrogance. They were so wrong! My dear Sera was shy, painfully, crazily shy! Deimos and Phebe,
Marcus, Terry and Ulyses performed a miracle in Sera, making her dead eyes become alive with their friendship. Sera
had a horrible story, and she touched my heart with her pain. So, no one was happier than I for the change she had,
from that hurt young child to the grinning, smart girl she was. She never had Phebe's beauty, but she had her charms
too, a pale, dream like complexion that hide a surprising strength, and as soon as she have her mane back again she
became a pleasing young lady. Slanted eyes of blue, pale rose-colored lips, and serenity in her gaze: that was her
beauty.
And she was a good reserve Beater- the fact why we usually doesn't have girls in our Quidditch teams, my dear little
minds is, unlike Gryffindor, we not only have few girls but, we CARE for there. We're gentlemen, mind you, and a
broken jaw is nothing we would expose one of our dear ladies unless it was real necessary. Not sexism here, idiots,
but GENTLEMALENESS, or must I say just Maleness with capital M? Oh, I'm so bad: whip me.-
Her favorite subject- and the one in she became legend- was DADA, having very un-Hogwarths skills in black magic.
Voldemort would have loved her: she was able to perform the Unforgivable curses in fifth year, and she could have
been a terrific Death Eater. But her eyes always softened next to her friends: her loyalty and love, even after all she's
been through it was so amazing, so touching. I loved her dearly, and more or less I adopted her as mine those years.
No father can be as proud as I am, from them all. They warmed my heart. They made me laugh.
Ulyses Graham didn't joined to him till second grade, coming from Beauxbatons. He was calm and collected, those
boys that born for books: he could have put that Granger know-it-all to shame. Everytime that damn girl spoke, it sent
a pang of pain to my heart: she remembered Ulyses to me. And how I miss that boy, his quick, incredible mind. He was
dearly loved for all the teachers: quiet and intelligent, he was the Annual Medal six years in a row. He had shining
gray eyes, black hair brushed back, and his favorite subject and the one he made his was History of Magic, where he
could put Binns to rest. He was amazing in it, a living encyclopedia of data: but he loved music too, and Dumbledore
loved him back for it. He was a reserve Beater, and I still chuckle remembering how he and Sera was always at odds.
Little they knew what that mean, till they grew older. But I knew, years before them. Lucky bloody boy.
Sometimes they put me frantic, sometimes I would have killed them with glee. Sometimes they made me cry, or laugh so
hard I cried. But I loved them. My Slybats: my favorite Slytherin story.
a Slytherin Story.
by the Fox.
YEAR ONE
Enter the SLYBATS
I remember clearly how it rained, like the sky was falling, that day so many years ago. Hagrid has just came with the
first years, and I glared at them, wondering how thick their dreaded little brains were. Even if I've taught three years,
that was my first year as the Head of a House, and I wasn't looking forward to the charge of a ton of dumb babies.
I saw her there, even if I didn't paid her too much attention till the Sorting hat yelled her name, the first one in go to
my newly- named domain, the House of Slytherin. Sure the half of those kids would have been retired from the school
faster you can say "AZKABAN!" if they knew the Potions master, Dumbledore's left arm and just-named Head of
Slytherin House was an ex death Eater. Fools. Good for them and their colons they never know.
The girl, the first to be called a Slytherin that year gained for it a slightly more detailed inspection that the rest, I
remember. She had a mane, which was the word to describe it: a wild amount of yellowish-golden-white-bronze hair,
a fey mix stumbling around his shoulders and back. She wore the black robes fairly well, being taller than some boys,
but his face was obscured for the long hair, letting only a pair of big dark blue eyes emerge. I remembered to have
thought she would give McGonagall lots to do, for his defiant stare, and her way to occupy the chair, all defiance.
She looked just like the Shrew, one of my favorite plays of the immortal bard, and I chuckled to myself, picturing a
Minerva with a beard trying to be Petruchio…
Her name was Seraphine Selsior.
I remember too her eyes peeking from the group of seven boys and two girls. We always had the lowest girl-rate from
the Sorting ceremony, I suppose that is because the rareness of breasts+ brain there outside, even if Minerva says its
more like the matter of evilness+stupidity+maleness vs superior female attributes. Suit yourselves, crowd.
I gave them the usual lecture and welcome to the Serpent's Nest, the Slytherin House Headquarters. They picked the
dorms they would be like to use for the seven-year length of their stance, and I even remember which ones they took:
the Oak the boys and the Cedar dorm the two girls. Seraphine's partner was Phebe Monroe, a spicy, laughing black
haired girl from the Monroe family fairly in-parentage of mine: my second-grade cousin was married to one of her
third grade aunts… anyway. In the male group, there was Deimos Malfoy, that blonde nose-in-the air oldest son of
Lucious, Terrance Avery, the little brown braided hyper Quidditch fan and Marcus Flint, that tall troll I foresee future
Quidditch captain. I remember that group rather fondly: they were one of my first works as a teacher, and they had a
special magic even from first year. And even as years passed, I never had other class so close at my heart.
Now, years later, my only remorse is to not have appreciated them when they were next to me. They were the Slybats,
the first and only answer to the Gryffindor's Marauders, and they had put to rest evenly bitterness long time held for
Slytherin and me. They became legend. And best than it, they became my pride.
But I'm hurrying things and I want to recall these days with all the care I can, like the look of old photos I still
treasure. I want to look at my memories as carefully as I am able in these last days of mine. I want to remember in the
infinite-faced, eternally shining gem of my past…
The first class we had it was the first time I truly put some attention to Sera… she was still Selsior to me.
And like always, it was all Neville Longbottom's fault.
It was my mistake, I took my eyes from him a millisecond and he pounced down his cauldron with a flick of his
incredibly clumsy hand. I swear, I'm thoroughly happy that Frank and his wife aren't sane to see the wonder they
fathered: the boy couldn't be clumsier if he done it in purpose. Yes, I'm cruel. Sue me.
But I remember even he surprised me when he managed to bath Seraphine Selsior with the Eating Acid Potion. My
heart jumped to my throat, I concede you, ready to see a girl became a tiny smoking mess in the floor. I was young
and foolish: I must have remembered it wasn't a chance between billions Longbottom had done the Potion right. I
yelled an appropriate charm to impermeabilize the girl, and them pulled a can of Dragon's Drool over her. It was
disgusting, but an effective way to save her from a mixed poisoning that it would take a week to antidote. Then I
carried her levitating with my own wand to Poppy, and it wasn't till I handed the girl to his hen-like high-pitched
yells, I was aware the girl hadn't said a word.
- Are you all right?- I asked, fearing a girl-worth shock, great things two XX in your genes do to your mind. But she
only nodded at me, no fear nor pain in her eyes. I thought I saw a flicker of something in her eyes, but I dismissed it
like a glint of tearful wails coming. I retire quickly to let Poppy deal with it- whiny first-years girls never where my
teacup- and I came back, grinning to myself in anticipation to nail Longbottom's clumsy ass into my office's wall. A
bloody Auror's ass, oh glee.
At lunch, when the girl came pale I only took a peek to see she was alive and in one piece and then went back to my
food. But I noticed some stares, and suddenly knew the difference: Ms Pomfrey had cut the splendid mane short,
shorter than mine in a boy-like cut that made her taller and thinner.
And I haven't imagined that glint, and it wasn't my imagination, it seems, when the girl walked with firms steps to the
Gryffindor's table, took the steaming corn soup plate from the table and with even firmer hands emptied it into Neville
Longbottom. I stood aghast for a moment as everybody else, and suddenly the Slytherin table cheered loudly: I saw
Malfoy and Monroe clapping, Flint and Avery whistling.
I almost did. I had to hide my smile in my cup when Dumbledore eyed me, and I only murmured that she had been
seriously provoked.
And it was thanks to Neville Longbottom that the Slybats were formed. And that was enough to justify his inane
existence in this planet, so I think I mustn't have scorned him too much after all.
I gave her a nil detention in the Serpent's nest, one hour. But I ordered her to go to see me in the morning, at the
unholy first hour in my office, and she nodded. I couldn't but notice the way her eyes shone without the mane
obscuring them, like two twin blue gems with green and violet shades. I'm afraid I couldn't help but smirk at her when
I gave her that lecture to make Dumbledore and McGonagall happy…
She looked like a boy the next day when she entered to my office, next morning. I was suppressing a yawn, because I
had sweet dreams thanks to her: no, no that type, you perverts, she was twelve, but dreams of myself pouring boiling
potions over Potter, Black, Pettigrew and Lupin by turn, laughing like a madman, and dancing around in chibi-size as
they became slimy gore. Sweet dreams. Then I started pouring soup over the whole Aurors autocratic bunch and the
Corny Minimagic…
- Ahem.- I pointed to a seat, but she stood, straight like an arrow, no fear or nervousness in her stance. I heard voices
outside, and I strained my ear.
- Someone waiting for you outside?-
- No.- she said with a clear, calm voice I liked.- Sir.- she added after a moment of thought.
I walked loudlessly and opened the door quickly. Three boys stumbled and fell face first into my carpet, and then
jumped into their feet so quick they seemed to have rebooted.
- SIR!- they hollered. Avery, Malfoy, Flint. I'm sure they knew each other from the nursery, being their parents part of
my own circle, Death Eaters Inc. Surely, if I've been caught-after-shag as they did – not too clever, but by the way
they were Death Eaters to the end, so what you can expect- the product of my clumsiness would be the fourth there.
Deimos was a mini picture of Lucious, but without the moustache. His blonde hair was perfectly cut, his robes the
finest black silk: he was a Malfoy from head to toe, his smile always slightly insulting. Marcus was taller of course, a
boy made to ride a broom, his well-muscled body clearly defined even in his shaggy and rumpled robes, the collar
unbuttoned, his untidy hair in a porcupine-like brown mess. And Avery, tiny thin cat he was, was already moving, his
impulsive hyperness making him shook his head to move his brown braid around like a cat's tail, his spicy grin back
in place.
- I suppose you were all leaning in my door by sheer casualty, I am wrong?-
- Yes, Sir.-
- Hai hai, sir.-
- Of course, Sir.-
I eyed them, and the three defy my gaze a while. Good. Malfoy was the last one to drop his gaze. Sera was still and
quiet behind me, very calm. I was getting to like the girl, even if she seemed to have no more life that my desk:
probably, less.
- Since you are so eager to know about Miss Selsior's punishment, you can as well to share it with her. You'll have
detention this night after dinner, in the Potion's classroom - They all nodded, and I added.- Tomorrow at eight I'll see
all you after class. You are dismissed now, and Miss Selsior…?-
- Yes, Sir?- she said, her quiet, calm voice monotone. I eyed her searching for a mocking smirk, but her face was
blank. Too much, in fact: I remember I thought she maybe was a bit mental and wondered why the Sorting Hat gave
her to us.
- Try to not bath anyone with soup again.-
That lunch, Sera bathed Longbottom with grape jelly.
I laughed my ass off in private. It was going to be a fun year.
The detention was a very light one, I never gave to my Slytherin children so much trouble, and I left them a while
revising the lessons as I went to chuckle alone a bit, still amused for the funniness of her blank face and her violent
actions.
- Do you think is funny, Severus?- McGonagall caught me snickering and eyed me with distaste. I did my best to not
nod happily.- If you can't talk to her, send it to me, that type of violence is not to be allowed in Hogwarths!-
- She's a Slytherin, so I'm in charge of her. And I'll talk to her into… contain her natural responses.- I promised
myself to talk to her, no matter how funny it was, mostly for my sake because I knew that if she baths Longbottom with
hot tea the next morning I would piss in my seat from too much repressed laughter.
- Natural? Neville has been scolded TWO times for that insane vengative girl!-
- She lost her hair for his fault.- I eyed Minerva and supressed agrin, looking her bush-like black hair so tightly tied.
She tied it with help of a Potion each morning but I've seen her without it and she looked like a monster.- I thought
you'll understand something like that, Minerva. It's a girl thing, and after all, it was * beautiful* hair.-
She left me, nose in the air. Funny. * Insanely * funny.
A crash and a boy' scream make me run back to the dungeon I left the boys, wondering if the girl had bathed
someone else. But when I entered the dungeon, something big slapped me in the face and I lost my wand. I heard
Minerva running behind, and her terrorized scream.
I recognized it from the floor: the Shrinking Snake. How they managed to drop and break the jar containing it and
free the beast I use for a lot of antidotes, I never knew: I supposed it was secure in the deepness of my Potions closet.
I was wrong.
I used it in his shrunk form of three centimeters, but breaking the highly durable, charmed glass jar they freed the
serpent to his real size of thirty meters.
I saw Terry Avery bleeding in the floor, mouth open. Marcus Flint was knelt in his side, trying to carry him in his
strong arms. Deimos was standing before them, with Sera Selsior in his side, his blonde eyebrows together, speaking
to the serpent in pársel: but the Grey snake is a class particularly vicious of ophidium, and I saw it was ready to
attack. With a groan I saw my wand in the other end of the room, and as I sat, my eyes found Deimos Malfoy's.
He gestured just with a little movement to Sera, Avery and Flint, and I saw their eyes glint. And they moved in synch.
Deimos yelled a charm to the serpent. Flint and Sera jumped against the serpent, and as they pushed away the
Serpent momentarily stupefied for Deimos's charm, Terry moved like a tiny monkey, grabbed my wand, and threw it to
my hands.
- Trampernova!- I yelled. The charm made the serpent to roll and stay tied like a soft lasso. I turned to them, but
before I've said anything Terry was in his knees, still panting.
- It was me… they aren't culprits… I broke the jar… I'm sorry…-
- Shut up, Terry.- Deimos said, very calm.- It was an accident.-
- You all…- I looked at them, still in my mind the way they worked together instinctively.- You'll going to help me to
make the Shrinking Potion needed to shrink this beast to good size again, and then, you'll get a detention.- I said.
And suddenly I had to suprise a grin.- But not in this room, that's clear.-
Flint and Avery chuckled and then sobered quickly.
Each one had their particular traits, their particular asignatures, too. Deimos had what I call the Measurement
instinct: Not only in Potions, but in life. He was always calm, always filled with the quiet energy of his family,
something Draco lacks greatly. He has the perfect instinct to make a Potion right, how to compensate and mix, how to
make it work. Exquisite care and intelligence, the ideal Potion maker with the long and sensitive hands needed. He
was able to know, just like me, just by touch how was the Potion going, something I never saw in students, a gift very
rare and uniquely Slytherin till now.
Terry and Marcus were Quidditch freaks. Marcus was no doubt the best Keeper we ever had, and not only for his tall
frame and quick reflexes. He has the team spirit needed: he was able to pull Terry's hyperness, Sera's aloofness,
Deimos's coldness, Ulyses sarcasm and Phebe vanity to be a group. He was friendly and open, something you don't
see usually in a Slytherin, and had an incredible charm. Maybe based in the fact he was always worrying for others.
Despite his big frame, his knotty hands, he was as caring and tender like a mom. The Gryffindors always called him a
troll: nothing more far from truth. If something, he was a caring bear. No wonder he was Hagrid's friend, and his
favorite course was Care Of Magic Creatures: caring for others came to him naturally, like breathing. Even the
unicorns accepted him, but I remember he was able to tame a wild medusa simply singing to her with his horrible
voice… And he was handsome too, with a wilderness, a relax in him: his hair, which I let him grew till his shoulders
after he won his first Cup, it was a dark bronze, and his smile wide and sincere under big golden eyes. He was the
purest heart between them, something that made his destiny maybe the cruelest.
Terry was the most unbelievable annoying boy I met. He was simply UNABLE to stay quiet. He moved, whirled,
danced, jumped, grabbed anything in sight, talked a mile per minute, and to put in plainly, he made himself the terror
of teachers. Potions were something I never was able to teach him, no matter how hard I tried. He was Minerva's
desperation, too: but he had a strange skill in Trelawny's class, and he was the favorite of that impostor, being able
to pull the difficult Divination prophecies with deadly accuracy from first year. In that class he was almost
unrecognizable: he was calm, and he talked slowly, making his natural beauty show: with his hair down and his eyes
closed, he looked a lovely young girl. I never knew if Trelawny used a spell or a drug-enhanced incense, but she
actually made the boy calm. Of course, she simply loved him. It was a great, wild talent in these: but everything paled
at his skill with the Snitch. He was the best Seeker we ever had, and I grew accustomed to see him zoom past my
window in his Nimbus 1900 following a golden sparkle, him a blur of green with his long braid whipping behind him.
I let him too use his hair long: without his braid, I'm sure he would have lost his equilibrium. It was like a cat's tail,
and now I miss the way it slapped me everytime he whirled after a bow, in the thousands of detentions I gave to that
little pixie. It slapped everything in close, teachers, food, broomsticks, but miraculously never got trapped anywhere,
except, I must said, Deimos's hand.
Phebe was the expert in transfiguration. She was Minerva's best student from the start, and the way she antagonized
her was an endless amusement-fount for me through the years. She was brilliant and a very good reserve Chaser too:
but the most part of Hogwarths remembered her, unfairly if you ask me, mainly for her starting beauty. She was pretty
at twelve, but at fifteen, when she started to develop her femininity she became a breathtaking sight. She had raven
hair, bright brown eyes, and the curvaceous, female figure so smooth it was rumored she used transfiguration charms
in it. But it wasn't true: she was natural, and joyful. Me, I remember better the sharp intelligence she had under all
that beauty sheen, and better that that, her spicy smile when she pulled one over the Gryffindors. Her laugh, and how
she turned the boys into gentlemen with her plain femininity. She was the Slytherin lady, and that is my best praise to
that girl with heart of dove.
Sera was her anthitesis, and no one was more surprised than me when they became sister-like friends. They loved
each other dearly, lively Phebe and dead-like Sera: Sera was silent, and almost everybody, even the teachers assumed
it was or mental or arrogance. They were so wrong! My dear Sera was shy, painfully, crazily shy! Deimos and Phebe,
Marcus, Terry and Ulyses performed a miracle in Sera, making her dead eyes become alive with their friendship. Sera
had a horrible story, and she touched my heart with her pain. So, no one was happier than I for the change she had,
from that hurt young child to the grinning, smart girl she was. She never had Phebe's beauty, but she had her charms
too, a pale, dream like complexion that hide a surprising strength, and as soon as she have her mane back again she
became a pleasing young lady. Slanted eyes of blue, pale rose-colored lips, and serenity in her gaze: that was her
beauty.
And she was a good reserve Beater- the fact why we usually doesn't have girls in our Quidditch teams, my dear little
minds is, unlike Gryffindor, we not only have few girls but, we CARE for there. We're gentlemen, mind you, and a
broken jaw is nothing we would expose one of our dear ladies unless it was real necessary. Not sexism here, idiots,
but GENTLEMALENESS, or must I say just Maleness with capital M? Oh, I'm so bad: whip me.-
Her favorite subject- and the one in she became legend- was DADA, having very un-Hogwarths skills in black magic.
Voldemort would have loved her: she was able to perform the Unforgivable curses in fifth year, and she could have
been a terrific Death Eater. But her eyes always softened next to her friends: her loyalty and love, even after all she's
been through it was so amazing, so touching. I loved her dearly, and more or less I adopted her as mine those years.
No father can be as proud as I am, from them all. They warmed my heart. They made me laugh.
Ulyses Graham didn't joined to him till second grade, coming from Beauxbatons. He was calm and collected, those
boys that born for books: he could have put that Granger know-it-all to shame. Everytime that damn girl spoke, it sent
a pang of pain to my heart: she remembered Ulyses to me. And how I miss that boy, his quick, incredible mind. He was
dearly loved for all the teachers: quiet and intelligent, he was the Annual Medal six years in a row. He had shining
gray eyes, black hair brushed back, and his favorite subject and the one he made his was History of Magic, where he
could put Binns to rest. He was amazing in it, a living encyclopedia of data: but he loved music too, and Dumbledore
loved him back for it. He was a reserve Beater, and I still chuckle remembering how he and Sera was always at odds.
Little they knew what that mean, till they grew older. But I knew, years before them. Lucky bloody boy.
Sometimes they put me frantic, sometimes I would have killed them with glee. Sometimes they made me cry, or laugh so
hard I cried. But I loved them. My Slybats: my favorite Slytherin story.