Disclaimer: The characters and the world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.
First of all, I'd like to thank three awesome people for showing their support and getting me feedback. Special hugs to Son of Whitebeard, Silbernacht and Nyght elf. If not for you guys, this chapter wouldn't happen at least for another week. You gave me energy to write.
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Chapter 4: The Evil Lair
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From what Al's dad had told him, the Start-of-Term Feast was supposed to be a joyful, vibrant event. How different was the reality from the tales. If being surrounded by the Slytherins wasn't enough, he was being crushed by the thick, funeral atmosphere. There was no song, no one was laughing or even pretending they had fun. The students mostly jabbed the food on their plates with cutlery, sitting in suffocating silence. Even Malfoy gave up on mocking Al, busy torturing his pork chops.
"I can't believe it! We're prisoners in this castle, prisoners!" Grace lamented, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Dramatically, she threw her arms up and grabbed her head. "What gives Vector the right to take quidditch away?"
One of the first year girls stirred on the bench. Al recalled her name was Nancy Ethelston. "Maybe someone died," she suggested.
"And how is it an excuse to cancel quidditch?" Quin muttered, looking ahead with blank, absent gaze of a man who lost the meaning of life.
Somehow, bonding over the loss of quidditch and the newly implemented, draconic restriction made the atmosphere at the Slytherin table perhaps not cheerful, but less depressing. Al kept on the sidelines, pecking at his dinner and mostly listening to the others. The first years started unravelling. Unfortunately, not quite in the right direction.
Malfoy straightened his back proudly, happy that he found himself in the centre of attention. His trademark, smug smirk was glued to his lips as he boasted, "Have I mentioned that my family took the first place on Wizarding Britain's Richest, according to Daily Prophet?" He readjusted his robes, still damp from the boat ride across the lake, and slicked his blond hair to the side. "Since old Baroness Rowle croaked last month, the Malfoys have no competition."
"You're so lucky, Scorpius," said Friedwulfa Palmer, a chubby girl with chocolate complexion. She fixed her googly eyes on Malfoy.
Barnaby Selwyn, a boy with squirrel teeth sighed quietly, staring at Malfoy with an obviously forced smile. The two other first year Slytherin boys, Higgs and Runcorn, also had a glimmer of admiration in their eyes, mixed with sprouting envy. Something told Al that they had reluctantly accepted their position as Malfoy's lackeys.
"Well, it's nothing much really, but my grandfather had Howling Gnomes perform during my birthday party, just for me," Malfoy continued to gloat.
Al rolled his eyes, thinking his bragging was not only in bad taste, but also incredibly annoying. Granted, Howling Gnomes were the most awesome band ever and he'd want to see them live really badly, but . . . He clenched his fists under the table and stubbornly stared at his dessert. The pink, watermelon jelly wobbled under his glare and tried to crawl away, but Al pinned it down with his fork.
Suddenly, a much needed distraction arrived. When two ghosts appeared out of the solid wall and glided toward the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, Friedwulfa Palmer wrinkled her forehead and asked the Head Girl, "Grace, don't we have a resident ghost?" She glanced at Nancy Ethelston.
"The Bloody Baron," Nancy specified.
Thoughtfully, Grace scratched her head, making the messy bun loll from side to side. "Oh, I haven't seen him in a while. He haunted about all the time when I was in my first year, but then, he kind of stopped. I wonder if he went on vacation or something."
"What a bummer," Higgs muttered and the rest of the first years nodded in agreement.
Professor Vector rose from her seat at the staff's table and strode to the podium. She clapped, and the watermelon jelly vanished from right under Al's nose, together with the rest of the food. A collective groan of disappointment spread through the Great Hall, but got silenced by Professor Vector slamming her palm against the podium; she seemed to do that a lot. "I believe that's enough celebration for tonight as you wouldn't want to sleep during your classes tomorrow. Off to your dormitories, everyone," she said and stared at specific students, including Victoire Weasley, Grace and Quin. "Prefects, please guide the first years." Vector clapped once and nearly all the students jumped to their feet.
Following their lead, Al stood up as well, feeling spooked by the strict headmistress. He saw Grace round the small flock of first years up, fussing like a mother hen. Then, he felt someone grab the back of his robe and yank his shoulder forcefully. He yelped, caught off guard, as he got spun around.
"Al!" Rosie Weasley shrieked into his face, making him start.
Next to her, stood James. Both stared at with worry painting on their faces. It was weird and distressing to see his brother concern instead of perpetually grinning and joking.
"You're in Slytherin," James said quietly; it sounded like an accusation.
Rose glared at the older Potter and elbowed him in his side before turning to Al. "Look, Al, it's not the end of the world," she told him, her voice cracked as though she was about to burst into tears. "It's perfectly fine. We can still be friends, we'll see each other in classes and the library . . . " She let out a strangled sob and whirled around so that Al wouldn't see her cry.
"I'm sorry I teased you," James blurted out suddenly. He reached under his glasses and, Al could have sworn, wiped a tear with the hem of his sleeve. "The thing is . . . The thing is, I never thought you'd actually end up in Slytherin. I was sure you'll be in Gryffindor with me, and Rosie, and Roxie, and Fred-"
"James, stop it," Al cut him off. "Seriously, you're not making me feel any better about this. Look, I get it, you're sorry." He gazed away, unable to stare his brother in the eye. Quietly, he said, "I'm sorry too. I'm such a disappointment to everyone."
James let out a whistling breath and propped his hands on his hips. When he was doing that, he reminded Al a lot of their mother. Every time one of her children was up to some mischief, she struck that pose and started the tirade. James must have notice his brother flinch, for he let his arms dangle by his sides non-threateningly. "Dad will probably take it better than mum. She'll flip once she finds out. If I were you, I'd reconsider going home for Christmas."
"James Potter!" Rosie elbowed him again, striking his kidney.
In the middle of commotion, no one noticed Quin Travers creep on them soundlessly. He just suddenly found himself wedged between two Potters, eying both of them sternly. Quin was barely taller than Al, but his looming presence masked his modest height. "I'd hate to interrupt the heart wrenching family drama, but I need to haul all first years to the dungeons." His heavy hand fell on Al's shoulder and he locked the grip on. "That includes you too, Potter."
Rosie sighed lightly, staring at Al as though he were about to be dragged away to Azkaban. "I'll see you in class tomorrow."
James waved goodbye and winked at his younger brother. "Al, just don't become evil!"
Al felt his cheeks heat up. "I won't get evil!"
"Are you sure? There must be a reason you got sorted into Slytherin," James joked. "Perhaps you've been planning on enslaving the wizarding world all along and I had no clue about it."
"Not all Slytherins are wicked," Al rebutted, losing his confidence as his anger died down a bit. "My namesake wasn't. Dad told me Severus Snape was the bravest man he'd ever met, and a really good wizard."
James shrugged his shoulders. "One of them wasn't evil," he admitted. "You know who else was in Slytherin? Lord Voldemort. Also, all the Death Eaters and the vast majority of dark wizards."
Immediately, every Slytherin, who was still at the table, froze and turn their heads toward James. They glared daggers at him and shifted their hateful stare to Al. In this moment, the young Potter realized that he has just become the most despised person in his house. Good job, James. That was exactly what I needed.
Quin chuckled humourlessly as he hauled Al away. "Come on, the head of our evil house must be getting impatient in Slytherin's evil den."
The prefects ushered the first years out of the Great Hall and guided them down unbelievably long corridors. Portraits on the walls greeted them with smiles and waved to them. Sculptures and empty suits of armour bowed politely. At one point, the Slytherins separated from the rest of the students and headed downward, toward a poorly lit dungeon corridor. They went down a broad staircase until they faced a dead end, a solid, stone wall.
Quin turned to the first years and said. "Memorize the way to the Common Room. I don't want you walking into broom closets instead." He patted the wall with his hand, smirking. "The password is 'decapitation.'"
As he said the word, the stones shifted aside, revealing a crevice. It widened and formed an arched doorway, causing some of the first years to gasp. Sickeningly greenish, eerie light seeped from inside, illuminating the corridor they stood in.
Quin crossed his arms on his chest and told them, "Remember, the password changes every fortnight. Never bring students from other houses here, never reveal the password. Inside!" He grabbed Selwyn and pushed him into the common room. Then, in a hushed voice, he said, "And good luck. You'll need it."
Waddling at the end of the small group, Al entered the lair of Slytherins, curiously looking around. The whole place looked like a villain's hideout. Austere, stone walls were decorated with tapestries featuring adventures of famous Medieval Slytherins; Al saw plenty of severed limbs and heads. Greenish lamps cast their cold light upon the common room, making it seem even less welcoming. There was no windows, but the dungeon extended partway under the lake, so there was view at its bottom through the glass ceiling. The chamber had lots of low backed, black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas and chair. Dark wood cupboard were decorated with skulls. The common room looked posh and a bit pretentious, what didn't surprise Al. The place screams: evil, he thought.
The first years gawked about, so taken with the creepy atmosphere of their new home, that they didn't notice a middle-aged witch sprawled on the armchair. She cleared her throat and everyone shifted their attention to her, mainly to the deep cleavage of her turquoise robe. Relaxed like a cat she curled a strand of her hair on her finger, observing the first years in silence. There was something resembling a pug in her face. The corners of her lips appeared to be fixed downwards in a grimace of discontent.
"Good evening, young Slytherins. My name is Professor Pansy Parkinson and I will be supervising your life in Hogwarts." She wasn't even looking at her students. Instead, she surveyed her long, carefully manicured fingernails. "This year's goal is to win the House Cup, at any cost. We can't afford these smug Gryffindors steal our victory again, so I expect you to work your asses off to gain points. Is that clear, brats?" Professor Parkinson raised her chin to glare at the first years.
"Yes, ma'am!" Nancy Ethelston squeaked fearfully.
"No sneaking around after curfew, no rule breaking, no improper behaviour," Professor Parkinson continued in a flat, disinterested voice that sounded as though she didn't want to even be here. Suddenly she spotted something that caught her interest and she rose from the armchair. Roughly shoving Higgs and Palmer out of her way, she towered over Al. "What's this? Potter's spawn in my house? That's a rarity," she muttered and a malevolent smirk flourished on her scowling lips. "Step out of line, Potter, and I won't show you mercy."
Her threat made Malfoy let out an amused snort.
Professor Parkinson stiffened and whirled on her heal, searching for the one who made the noise. When her eyes rested on Malfoy, she stumbled back and gasped as if she had seen a ghost. Then, the look of surprise vanished from her pug-like face, replaced something far more terrifying, an unreadable expression. "Malfoy," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Scorpius Malfoy furrowed his pale brows. "Hmm?"
Suddenly, Professor Parkinson grinned, showing her teeth. Her smile was so mortifying that all first-years took a step back. "Fifty points from Slytherin!" she said with satisfaction.
"For what?" Malfoy uttered, confused to no end.
"For your lack of respect for your teacher and poor manners," Professor Parkinson replied smoothly.
Malfoy opened his mouth agape, startled, and tried to argue. "But-"
Professor Parkinson lifted her hand, silencing him. "You've just lost Slytherin another twenty points and earned yourself a detention every day for a month." Her pleased smirk only grew as she relished the foolish, shocked look on Malfoy's face.
He protested, "It's not fair! Professor, I haven't even said any-"
"Here it goes again, Mr Malfoy. Another fifty points down the drain," Professor Parkinson announced gleefully and crossed her arms on her chest.
"How?" Malfoy coughed out, staring at her in disbelief. He shook his head as though he was trying to wake up from a nightmare.
Professor Parkinson sighed cheerfully. "Your rudeness doesn't know boundaries. I'm deducting thirty further points and extending your daily detention to all the way until the summer holidays. I hope you'll enjoy your first year at Hogwarts."
Malfoy slumped his shoulders and collapsed onto the nearest sofa, hyperventilating. Beads of sweat developed on his forehead and temples. He hid his face in his hands and let out a single, miserable whine.
Professor Parkinson brushed past the students, heading toward the exit out of the common room. As she was walking past Al, she chuckled and muttered to herself, "I've waited for it almost twenty years." She glared at the first years over her shoulder. "Go to your dormitories, brats! Girls left, boys right. Shoo! Off my sight." And she left.
Rocking back and forth on the sofa like a traumatized person, Malfoy kept shaking his head in denial. He looked up, at his housemates and exclaimed, "I can't believe it!"
Barnaby Selwyn shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hesitantly glancing at the other Slytherin boys. He sighed heavily and said, "We can't believe it either, Malfoy. You're at Hogwarts for less than twenty-four hours and you've managed to lose our house one hundred and fifty points already. Thanks to you, we don't stand a chance of winning the House Cup this year." Selwyn stared at Scorpius accusingly.
"How is this my fault?" Malfoy scoffed defensively. "Parkinson took the points for no reason!"
Selwyn clenched his squirrel teeth. "You know what?" He swallowed a lump in his throat and looked at Malfoy with superiority. "It will be better if we don't hang out. I don't want Parkinson to see us together and give me a year-long detention too." Searching for approval, he glanced over his shoulder at the rest of young Slytherins.
Higgs nodded and took a place by Selwyn's side. "Yeah, that would suck," he admitted.
Barnaby Selwyn bit his lower lips and cast the last, condescending look at Malfoy before heading to the boy's dormitory. Higgs and Runcorn hurried after him and flanked the new popular guy. The girls whispered amongst each other and, apparently, reached the same conclusion as Selwyn. With their chins so height that their noses pointed at the vaulted ceiling, they strutted away.
Al found himself alone with Malfoy in the common room. He stared at the blond boy, feeling a bit of satisfaction. He had it coming, that arrogant prick.
Malfoy glared back at Al. "What are you staring at, Potter?"
"Nothing." Al shrugged his shoulders and went to look for his bed.
He followed Selwyn's the obnoxious giggling and passed through another arched portal. Then, he had to climb down a spiral staircase. Great, the dormitories are in the dungeon's basement. As it turned out, the first year's bed chamber was quite deep underground. The stone walls felt unpleasantly damn and slick under Al's touch.
When he set his foot in his dormitory, his unhappy frown even deepened. The room looked just as unwelcoming as the rest of Slytherin's dungeons. The furnishings were sparse, but seemed expensive. Dark wood wardrobes and bed stands had fittings from pure silver. The precious metal glistened in the dim light of the green lamps. Five, massive four poster beds stood in a row, being the solitary source of colour in the gloomy dormitory. Heavy, velvet canopies and curtains shrouded each of them. The fabric was green, embroidered with silver thread and depicting images of snakes. Al doubted it would help him get a good night's sleep.
Selwyn, Runcorn and Higgs were sitting on one of the beds, gossiping in hushed voices and cackling. Briefly, they glanced at Al, but then went back to what they were doing, treating him as though he were invisible. Feeling down, young Potter dragged himself to the last bed in the row, where his belongings were. He opened Draco's cage, but the ferret only glared at him from the inside and didn't crawl out. Al sighed, kicked his shoes off and threw himself onto the bed. He slid the velvet curtains shut, muffling the annoying voices of the Slytherins and stared at the canopy over his head. There was an image of a basilisk painted on the fabric, and it kept moving and hissing at Al.
What am I doing here?
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Next time, the plot will finally arrive, triggering the chilling series of events. Young Albus and his cousin Zach Dursley will find themselves in a mess. Excitement!
Don't be shy and leave a comment on the chapter. I'm a creature who feeds on reviews and turns them into more chapters. I also think that I've just compared my content to crap... Anyway, review and you shall be rewarded! ;-)
