"Potter, James."
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The scarlet and gold decked table exploded in cheers and clapping. The newly sorted boy ran to take his spot at the banquet table as Neville and Professor Babbling, the head of Gryffindor house, looked on beaming.
Above, the ceiling of the Great Hall showed a galaxy of stars in a cloudless sky, augmented by a floating ballet of candles that turned night into mid-day. Banners of blue, green, scarlet, yellow, black, bronze, gold, and silver hung majestically around the walls. Polished silverware and gleaming plates hinted at the unrivaled feast that was soon to begin.
The Great Hall bustled with excitement as students whispered to new house members and old friends while the Sorting Hat performed its centuries old duty. Some of the new Slytherin couldn't help notice that, while their new house cheered mightily for them, the rest of the school tended to eye them with cold suspicion of what they might become.
When the last first-year had been sorted in Ravenclaw, the tall witch with square spectacles and emerald robes rose from the headmistress' chair. Her stern look brooked no nonsense, and the students who were still prattling on were quickly shushed by their neighbors. First years, who had relaxed during the convivial Sorting Ceremony, suddenly felt their fears flooding back. But these were soon allayed when a warm smile spread across Headmistress McGonagall's face. Her pointed hat sat jauntily cocked to one side and hinted that there was more to her than her prim facade projected.
"Welcome, students. We especially extend a hand to our new pupils who will be joining us for another year at Hogwarts. I know any words I could say now will only postpone us from the feast, so let us begin."
As the students applauded, the dishes filled with the traditional roasts and veg, but here and there the house elves tried to branch out with the occasion foreign cuisine like curry, pasta, and couscous. While the Bloody Baron held court in center of the Slytherins, eying the spread he could not partake of, Finley and Callum sat at the far end of the table, oblivious to much going on around them.
As the House of Viperii held great influence in the wizarding world, Malacius' word held great sway in Slytherin house. News of Finley's fall from favor had spread fast, and few dared to associate with him, lest it become contagious. Only Callum sat with him, and they dug through their meal in silence.
Finley broke the silence. "You don't have to do this. My sources tell me Malacius was already mobilizing to deal with me before we got on the train." Finley's 'sources' was Kyle, one of the better Slytherin information brokers, who was still willing to do business with him. "But he hasn't started against you yet."
"We're friends, Finley." Callum stated it as a simple fact.
"Don't think I don't appreciate it. But I know what's in store for me. I accept the risks. Don't see why-" He stopped as he noticed the surrounding chatter precipitously died out.
Callum saw Malacius strolling their way. Normally, Finley and he would be trailing in his wake. With a rapier on his right hand and a sledgehammer on the left, Malacius always had the right tool on hand for the job. But even without minions, he was supremely confident. Unfortunately, Callum knew that confidence was backed up by a wicked talent for magic. Malacius didn't need minions to enforce his will, they were just useful to have around.
Malacius' eyes were locked entirely on Callum, though Finley was well within his peripheral vision in case he tried anything with the wand he was tightly gripping in his pocket. The tall blonde got right to the point. "Callum, return to your station," he ordered.
"What is my station, sir?" Callum played his dumb muscle role.
"On my left side, of course."
"Will you still step on those who get in your way?"
Malacius treated it like a compliment and smirked. "Of course."
"Then no." The reply was immediate. Callum had no problem with being a subordinate and taking orders, but he regretted many of the orders he had carried out at Malacius' behest.
"You don't have to do this, Callum," said Finley.
"Keep out of this." Malacius still didn't deign to look his way, but the words at least acknowledged his presence.
"I'll be okay. No need to stick your neck out for mine."
Callum looked at his companion. Finley's eyes said the words were sincere, that he didn't want Callum to get hurt or, at the very least, have Callum's troubles on his conscience. Callum turned to directly face Malacius, who was almost as tall but quick and lithe to his own muscular bulk. "This is for me."
"Yes, yes." Malacius combed back his blonde bangs with a hand. "I hope you enjoyed this grandstanding. But, as you say, I trample those who get in my way. Do you want to be in front of or riding the dragon?"
"Why don't you just leave him alone?" Finley butted in again.
Eyes still locked on Callum, the reply came, "Because to deny me would be to insult me, and we Viperii do not take insults lightly."
"I've got dirt on you. You do anything to Callum, and I'll use it."
"Your threat holds no water. As if you weren't planning to use it on your own behalf anyway. The family already took that into consideration before exploiting yours." The word 'exploiting' rolled from his tongue with a particularly gratified tone.
"We can reach a mutual deterrence agreement: you keep your secrets, Finley doesn't come under pressure." A Muggle-historian might have noted the similarity to western atomic weapons preventing a Soviet invasion of Berlin and vice versa.
Finley is a true friend, Callum thought, but doesn't he realize this is my fight? "Stop! I-"
"What's all this?" Professor Slughorn's genial voice cut in, but with an undertone that he knew exactly what this was about, so why don't you stop making a scene in front of the entire school, hmmm?
Malacius understood and stepped away. "Think about it, Callum. I won't hold this against you if you return."
"You already have my answer." Under Slughorn's watchful eye, and the gazes of the assembled faculty at the high table, the banquet resumed, though it turned to ashes in Callum's mouth.
AN: Reviews welcome. How do you like Finley and Callum?