For those of you wondering, this work will be updating much slower than the norm, until I find my damned OOTP book.
Vergil's methods are NOT going to make him popular with the Slytherins. Yes he desires power, but he frowns upon those that act dishonorably or cowardly.
If he or Dante had been sorted years ago, I'm fairly certain that the war between Slytherin and Gryffindor would've torn the walls down around them, so I can only imagine his disdain for the cowardly backstabbers that are supposed to be the 'most cunning, power hungry' of their peers.
As Sonofsparda13's rendition put it, when Vergil stabs someone in the back, he does it to their face.
That said, on with the show! How will Harry's glimpse into the dark side affect the Boy Who Lived Despite Voldie's Best Efforts?
Educational Decree.
When Harry awoke that morning, several hours before he had any reason to do so, it was to find himself tucked into his bed, dressed in his pajamas and with his sword and notes from last night resting on his trunk.
He'd stared at them at first, wondering how on earth he'd gotten here, only for his face to settle into a determined frown as he pulled himself out of his bed, grabbed his notes, and made for the common room, quill and parchment in hand.
He would be found later by the first early risers, still writing furiously at a table covered with his notes, only pausing once to take a shower and change into his robes for the morning, before returning once again to his assignment, earning looks of awe from the onlookers at the dedication and concentration on his face, quite a few of them making up rumors about him planning to overthrow Fudge as the next Minster for Magic by the time the rest of the tower was awake.
"Bloody Hell Harry." Ron muttered, the stunned redhead prefect coming down the steps from their dorm to find his nest friend writing away like a man possessed "What got in your bonnet?"
"Finally got some notes on Sparda." Harry replied, his eyes never leaving his parchment as he jotted down line after line from the notes he'd obtained the previous night. True he'd only managed to read a few chapters of the Dark Knight's tale, but that was more than enough to cover the two-foot roll of parchment required, and then some.
"Blimey." Ron whistled, running his eyes over the collection of notes, his eyes widening as he read over some of the Dark Knight's accomplishments "Get a load of this! Apparently he fought off an assassin that tried to behead Merlin!"
"Well he WAS around over two thousand years ago." Hermione reasoned, looking over Harry's almost four-foot roll of parchment with approval, "It stands to reason he bumped into a few historical figures during the course of his life."
"More than a few by the looks of it…" Ron muttered, flipping through Harry's notes with wide eyes "Blimey, this fellow got around! He's shown up in Europe, Asia, hell he even sealed up a hell mouth in some town in America!"
"Well at least I've gotten the report finished for now." Harry muttered, finishing off his essay with a relieved sigh, as it was due later today, and tucking it away into his book bag, strapping his sword over his shoulder with a grunt "You want to get some breakfast?"
"Before that, I think you'd better take a look at this Harry." Hermione muttered, the grim expression on her face setting the teen's guard up as he followed her over to the notice board, which had been covered, as if overnight, by a giant sign that obscured all the other posts, Harry's eyes narrowing as he read over Umbridge's latest attempt at wrestling control over Hogwarts for herself.
"She just doesn't give up, does she?" Harry muttered, the boy who lived shaking his head in disgust as the rest of the common room started nattering away about their respective clubs being shut down "I mean bloody hell, what do student clubs have to do with the ministry?"
"Well they CAN provide a distraction from exams…" Hermione reasoned, only to wave her hands defensively at Harry and Ron's deadpan expressions "I'm speaking from a teacher's point of view! McGonagall told us we'd have to cut down on club activities for the OWL exams, remember?"
"Oh yeah," Ron recalled, shaking his head at the memory, though the frown remained on his face "But McGonagall didn't mind us attending clubs so long as we kept up our studies, Umbridge just had them disbanded because she's a bi-!"
"RON!" Hermione hissed, cutting him off mid-swear as a group of first years walked past, looking up at him innocently, the redhead turning pink about the ears as he snapped his mouth shut "Anyway, we'd best keep on our toes around Umbridge for now-!"
"HARRY! RON!" Angelina called out, the two friends turning to find the Gryffindor Captain and chaser racing towards them, red in the face and frantic "She's included Quidditch in this! We need to ask permission to re-form the Gryffindor team!"
"SUNNUVABITCH!"
"RON!" Hermione gasped, clapping a hand over the irate redheads mouth as he began mouthing off profanities, the twins cheering him on and throwing in a few of their own even as Hermione tried to hex them with silencing charms.
Needless to say, Harry was NOT in a good mood as he made his way to History of Magic with professor Binns. Not only was he going to have to watch his mouth around Umbridge, who had lately been handing out detentions for saying the wrong thing in her presence, but he'd actually have to make an effort to be polite to her if it came down to it.
Quite frankly, the Boy Who Lived much preferred the idea of slashing the ministry toady in confetti, a sentiment shared by the majority of the school, including the faculty.
Therefore, when Hedwig tapping on the window of Binns' class snapped him out of his daze, he was NOT pleased to find his faithful companion injured, with signs of being manhandled. There was a limit, after all, to how much bullshit a person could take before they snapped, and Harry was reaching the breaking point all to quickly in the short time since Umbridge had set foot on Hogwarts' grounds.
Surprisingly though, it was NOT Harry who snapped first under Umbridge's machinations, though Malfoy's indirect taunting at having the Slytherin Team reformed immediately DID come close to snapping his hair trigger, nor was it Ron, despite the prats' mockery of the redhead's father.
Rather, the duo found themselves struggling to hold back an enraged Neville Longbottom, who was brandishing his sword in a manner that would make a rabid Viking berserker reconsider his charge. It certainly unsettled Crabbe and Goyle, who were backing away anxiously from the frothing teen, earning a confused look from Malfoy, who remained ignorant of the danger due to Harry and Ron's dragging their fellow Gryffindor out of sight.
"Blood Hell Neville!" Ron gasped, pulling the enraged Gryffindor back and away from the door, even as Snape came out to see what the problem was "I'm all for giving Malfoy a right lump or ten but if you attacked him with that you'd get expelled!"
"I don't care!" Neville spat, looking particularly livid as he continued to glare at the ignorant Slytherin, though he gradually lowered his sword arm as he calmed down "I won't let him get off insulting St Mungo's!"
Harry said nothing, understanding Neville's motive for reacting as he did all to clearly, patting the teen comfortingly on the back, feeling the tension seep out of his muscles. He was actually grateful, for if Neville hadn't snapped when he did, Harry was CERTAIN that it would've been him being hauled off…and with people questioning his sanity, he didn't need to be adding fuel to the fire.
As it were, they waited a few seconds for Neville to compose himself properly, before shuffling into Snape's class at the back of the cue, ignoring the piercing stare from the hook-nosed Potions Master as he slammed the door shut to silence the chatter.
"As you may have noticed." Snape announced in his low, sneering voice that reminded Harry of grease and oil "we have a guest with us today."
Sure enough, the class whipped round to find Dolores Umbridge sitting in a corner, clipboard on her knee and looking like she had every right to be there. Snape, of course, gave off every impression that he didn't see things her way, but instead turned to face the class, ordering them to continue where they left off with strengthening solutions.
Umbridge, surprisingly, spent the first half hour of the lesson making notes, keeping quiet in her little corner while the class worked away. Harry, eager despite himself to watch the battle of Greasy Evil versus Toady Evil, was only paying half the attention he should have been on his potion, listening in, instead, on the conversation between the two as Umbridge finally broke her silence.
"Well, this class seems fairly advanced for their level." The High Inquisitor noted briskly, addressing Snape's back as she spoke, as he was currently indulging in his second favorite pastime of terrorizing Neville "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."
The whole class seemed to fall silent as Snape straightened up, slowly, like the fearsome creation of an unassailable mountain range, before turning to look down on her from on high.
"Now then," Umbridge noted, apparently unaware of the oppressive atmosphere that was gathering around her as she held her quill over her clipboard "How long have you been teaching here at Hogwarts?"
"Fourteen years." Snape replied, his expression remaining as unfathomable as ever, though even a simpleton could detect the undeniable malice in his tone. Harry, straining to listen to the conversation, failed to notice his hands moving of their own accord, carefully adding his ingredients to the simmering cauldron without his consciously ordering them to do so.
"You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Umbridge asked, and Harry noted a hint of unprofessional interest in the woman's tone "But you were…unsuccessful?"
"Obviously." Snape countered, his lip curling in a sneer that Harry had always assumed was reserved for HIM. For some reason, it made him unusually jealous to think that someone else could rate such an expression.
"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" Umbridge asked, either unaware or uncaring to the salt she was rubbing into the obviously open wound.
"I would suggest you ask him yourself." Snape replied jerkily, his hand making a small, almost unnoticeable twitch, to where Harry suspected the man kept his wand "And I suppose this is RELEVANT?"
"Oh yes," Umbridge assured him, her eyes dancing maliciously as she regarded the Potions Master over the rim of her clipboard "the Ministry wants a THUROUGH understanding of teachers'…BACKGROUNDS."
Harry didn't doubt for a second that Umbridge's glee was directed, not at Snape, but towards a certain Defense Against Dark Arts Professor that was proving to be a direct thorn in the Ministry's plans, the teen glaring at the Inquisitor's back as she turned to question Pansy Parkinson about the lessons, only to turn round and find him locking gazes with Snape.
They stared at one another, the Boy Who Lived and his father's enemy, who had admittedly, at one point, indirectly seen to it that Harry didn't come to harm in his first year in order to pay off a life debt. Then their gaze broke, and Harry turned his attention back to his potion, only to blink as he gazed upon the perfectly brewed Solution that was simmering before him.
"Well Mr. Potter." Snape noted, his lip curling in that ever-familiar smirk once more, though there was a hint of grudging approval there too "It seems your luck continues…but will it hold?"
Harry honestly had nothing to say to that, as he was too busy trying to figure out how the hell he'd managed to pull it off.
After an admittedly interesting period of Divination, interesting in that Professor Trelawney actually had a REASON to be so overly dramatic this time, though Harry and Ron really could've cared less, the class scuttled eagerly down to their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, filing into the classroom and sitting alert at their desks, even as Professor Vergil shut the door behind him.
"Now then," he called out, looking over them all with a calculative expression, palms atop Yamato's pommel once more "I believe I had an assignment set for today…"
He trailed off, scowling as a knock came from the door, his eyes glaring at the portal, as if he could see through it, the class knowing instantly who was on the other side, their fears confirming themselves as Umbridge let herself without waiting to be asked. "Hello Professor." The High Inquisitor greeted, her pointy teeth proudly on display as she swept into the room clipboard in hand "I was wondering if I could-!"
"I do NOT recall receiving any messages regarding an inspection today, Miss Umbridge." Vergil pointed out, cutting the woman off and leveling a glare at her that Harry wouldn't have wished on his worst enemy…well maybe Voldemort.
"Oh this isn't an inspection." Umbridge assured him, recovering quickly, her toothy smile on full blast as she advanced on the professor, quill in hand "But, you see, I noticed a discrepancy in your file and-!"
"Since I did not receive a message," Vergil continued, cutting the woman off once again, his look growing steadily colder "and this is NOT an inspection, I believe I am quite right in saying you are interrupting my class."
"Oh I'm certain that won't be a problem." Umbridge stated, a hint of malice in her eyes as she continued to advance "After all, I'm merely here to bring up a little discrepancy…after all the ministry is required to perform background checks on all-!"
The class' eyes widened as Vergil, with speed that was nigh impossible, unsheathed Yamato and held it out to the side, Umbridge freezing where she stood as the business end of the Katana's point poked her between the eyes.
"My family," Vergil uttered slowly, his eyes, which were locked onto the floor before him, nonetheless unsettling those sitting at the front row "is none of your, nor the ministry's, concern." He lifted his head slightly, the class flinching as he slowly turned his gaze to focus on the terrified High Inquisitor "If you doubt my credentials, I suggest you take it up with Dumbledore. HE, at least, has time to waste with your pathetic bureaucracy," he smirked coldly at her "in fact, as I understand it, your Minister once made it a POINT to bother him at all points of the day, regardless of what he was doing."
Thus said he withdrew Yamato, sheathing the weapon with a swift, effective movement as Umbridge, her face a mask of terror, backed out of the classroom and fled down the corridor, making little choking noises the entire time.
"Now then…" Vergil called out, even as the door shut behind the High Inquisitor to reveal a grinning Pollux "Hand your assignments over to Pollux for collection and gather your things, we will be having a practical lesson again."
That said, he stood at the fore of the class, watching over them as Pollux moved among them, catching sight of the odd grin or look of admiration being sent his way as the students looked up at him, only to frown as he spotted Hermione trying to sneak something between her roll.
"Ten points from Gryffindor Miss Granger." He called out, the class looking up at him in amazement, none more so that the brunette herself, as he crossed the rows towards her, grabbing the piece of parchment from her hand and extracting a hand-woven sock from within.
"Deception is NOT a trait I recall Gryffindor House supporting." Vergil muttered, looking down at the mortified Prefect, who was receiving looks of amazement from the rest of the class "I don't know what you were thinking Miss Granger, but what you were about to do was as criminal to Pollux as the Nazi's branding and dehumanizing of Jewish prisoners during the war."
Hermione recoiled as if she'd been struck, before lowering her head to stare at her hands, her face a mask of mortification as the class continued to gape at her in alarm. Ron, especially, was looking at her in something akin to disappointment and anger on his face, having already told her off for doing something similar with piles of garbage and woolen mittens.
"I'll be having a word with Professor McGonagall about this, Miss Granger." Vergil muttered, earning a look of desperation from the prefect, only to pause as something tugged the hem of his coat.
"Sir." Pollux spoke up, his face solemn as he looked up at his master, the assignments tucked under his arm "Do not be so hard on young miss, she is not understanding House Elf culture."
He turned his large, open eyes to Hermione, who blinked at the reserved, prideful stare that was directed at her by a creature no taller than her knees. "House elves LIKE serving wizards, this is true, but it is our NATURE to do so. Just as there are being sprites that guard trees and wells, House Elves existing to protect wizard homes and families." He nodded his head solemnly "A House Elf that is losing home and master to serve is slowly dieing from feeling of loss and abandonment, they is seeking out new masters of own free will, because we EXIST to serve."
He reached out, pulling Hermione's assignment from Vergil's unresisting hand, before nodding his head towards the stunned brunette "Is understandable that young miss sees only slavery. Muggleborn you are, and muggles have only recently abolished slave laws yes?" he continued at Hermione's nod "But House Elves is not being Slaves, we WISH to serve, and as I believe young miss is knowing, if a House Elf is not wanting to serve one master…" he turned his wide eyes to regard Harry and Vergil in turn " there is always being others."
Harry blinked, catching the elf's direct reference to Dobby, the house Elf Harry had helped free from the Malfoys in his second year with a little sleight of hand and a rather grimy sock. The little elf REVELLED in his freedom from the Pureblood family, but even HE admitted that without someone to work for his life had been without meaning.
Now he worked amongst the Hogwarts Elves, who considered him a bit of an oddball, but tolerated him because he didn't try to spread his ideals to others and pulled his share of the work, which in their hierarchy branded him as an eccentric cousin that had done something scandalous, but was nonetheless well liked.
It was certainly an eye-opener for the purebloods as well, as they'd always assumed that House Elves were subservient because that was what they were there for. It had never occurred to them that the elves CHOSE to do so.
Vergil remained silent at the end of the elf's speech, regarding his servant with his usual, calculative expression, as if re-evaluating his opinion of the elf. Shortly after their first meeting, he'd sat the elf down and had him explain the inner workings of his culture, as there'd been little information on it in the library. It took several nights, as there was a lot that Pollux wasn't allowed to explain under Elf law, but even so Vergil had managed to garner a better understanding of House Elf culture than most Pureblood wizards cared to learn.
Which is why, after catching sight of Hermione's attempt at deceit, he'd stepped forward to correct the girl. Pollux, thus far, had been a useful servant, and while Vergil had no particular care for the elf, his code of ethics would not tolerate such a vagrant disregard for his rights, as it was as underhanded as being stabbed in the back.
Not that Vergil had problems with betrayal, he'd done quite a few underhanded things in his quest for power, but even so, when he did betray his accomplices, he made CERTAIN they saw it, namely the fatal blow from Yamato, coming.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, the blue-clad professor turned his attention to the awestruck Hermione, who was gaping at Pollux in shock. "I don't think we'll be needing to inform Professor McGonagall about this after all, Miss Granger." He stated, earning a look of shocked relief from the girl "However, the ten point deduction remains."
Hermione said nothing, simply glad to have been let off the hook so easily, offering a bow of acceptance to the man, and another, apologetic bow to Pollux, who returned it with a solemn nod of his head, before moving on to collect the rest of the assignments from the silent class.
Ron, who was looking torn between wanting to yell at the girl and comfort her, settled for biting the inside of his cheek and turning to regard Pollux, deciding that, after a speech like that, there wasn't anything he could say that would make any difference.
It was a mostly subdued class that followed Vergil out of the class and into the room of requirement for drills that day, though surprisingly; none of them bore Hermione any ill-will. She was a muggle-born after all, it was understandable she'd overreact to what she'd perceived as slavery, and in all honesty, the rest of them had never even batted an eye at the thought.
The Purebloods, in particular, were resolving to be much nicer to their family servants when they returned home for the holidays this year.
"No Quidditch practice." Angelina muttered, her voice hollow and defeated as Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the common room after dinner that evening "I know it's not your fault Harry." She assured the teen, shaking her head miserably as she spoke "But Umbridge said she needed a bit of time to consider."
"Consider WHAT?" Ron demanded angrily, his face turning a light shade of red "She's already given the bloody Slytherins permission, why not us?"
Harry suspected, and rightfully so, that Umbridge was trying to use this as leverage over the Gryffindors, a means to collar the Lions and bring them round to Umbridge's way of thinking by force. He'd almost be impressed if it weren't for his renewed desire to take his sword and carve himself up a nice big serving of toad guts to replace Snape's potions ingredients. He actually mulled over the idea of involving the Potions Master in his scheme, but brushed it aside hurriedly, as the idea of co-operating with SNAPE of all people made him come out feeling disturbingly greasy.
With not much else to do, as most of their assignments had either been completed or handed in already, the golden Trio pulled up a set of armchairs near the fireplace, pulling out their textbooks as Hermione led them through a brief list of subjects that she'd gathered would be covered in the exams this year, a little tip off from her Arithmancy professor.
As the evening wore on, Harry found his attention torn between gazing into the fire, keeping a watchful eye out for Sirius despite their being plenty of time until the arranged contact time, listening in to Hermione's retelling of Binns' lessons to date, and the excited shrieks from the onlookers as Fred and George demonstrated their Skiving Snackboxes, which apparently had been perfected recently a grinning Lee Jordan helping out by Vanishing the vomit and taking advance orders from the whooping crowd.
Hermione, who clearly didn't approve of the noise OR the Twins' antics, could nonetheless do anything about it, for one the twins had yet to break a rule, and she'd gone over the intensive list (disregarding Umbridge's rubbish of course) so she was quite certain of this, and for another she didn't feel up to pulling rank after the telling off she'd gotten today.
The fact Ron was sending her the occasional look whenever she glanced towards the twins wasn't helping any either.
"I don't understand how Fred and George only have three OWLs each." The redheaded prefect muttered, looking towards his elder brothers in confused wonderment "They really know their stuff."
"Oh, they only know the flashy stuff that's of no real use to anyone." Hermione countered disparagingly, only to look away as Ron pointed out, in a rather strained tone that for something that was 'no real use' the Skiving Snackboxes had just made the twins and Lee twenty-six galleons richer, and there were still more students lining up for a piece of the action.
It hadn't helped that, by the time the mob had disbanded for the evening, as the twins had run out of Snackboxes to sell, that Fred had rattled his box of Galleons in Hermione's general direction, earning a prim scowl from the prefect for the taunt. Ron, who by this point had drifted off to sleep, woke up with a muffled grunt, only to stare blearily into the fire, where Sirius' grinning face was looking out at him "Naherpaderpa…Muh?"
"Morning to you too Ronald." Sirius greeted, grinning at the redhead as Harry and Hermione whipped round to check the room was deserted, all three kneeling down on the hearthrug as Crookshanks, Hermione's pet cat, purred loudly and padded up to the fire in greeting "So how're things?"
"Not as good as they could be." Harry admitted with a grunt, rolling his shoulder stiffly "The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams…"
"Or secret armies to overthrow the current regime?" Sirius quipped, smirking cheekily at their dumbstruck faces "I know, apparently Fudge is REALLY going off the deep end, Kingsley swears he caught the man running starkers through the ministry building when he thought there was no-one there."
"Too much information." Hermione muttered, looking a little green about the gills, Harry and Ron actually fighting to hold in their laughter, knowing that it would bring inquiring minds down to see what the fuss was about.
"Well of course everyone here knows that's a load of rubbish," Sirius muttered, his lips quirking in a roguish smirk "and even Fudge isn't that far gone to voice his delusions to the media, but nonetheless it's what everyone in the ministry KNOWS he's using to push his ideas forward." He turned his eyes to the trio "But enough about politics, what's the new DADA professor like?"
"WICKED!" Ron insisted, his grin threatening to tear his face in half "Professor Vergil's something else Sirius! He doesn't let ANYONE order him around! He even drove Umbridge off at sword point today!"
"Now THAT I'd pay to see!" the Azkaban escapee noted with a grin, his eyes dancing in the firelight at the very idea "Wait till Lupin gets a wind of-!"
He trailed off, face tensing with alarm as he turned sideways, looking over his non-existent shoulder at the solid brick wall of the fireplace, as if there was something lurking there behind him. Before Harry could ask what was wrong, his godfather promptly vanished from the fire, the flames returning to their normal color as the connection was severed, only for a hand to appear amongst the flames, a familiar limb with stubby, short fingers, adorned with ugly, old fashioned rings.
It groped through the ashes, as if reaching to catch hold of something, the trio wasting no time in gathering their books and making a run for it, leaving Umbridge's disembodied hand to snatch at the flames that Sirius' head had only just recently vacated.
And there you have it, another installment of Vergil goodness.
For those wondering why I had Hermione do something so reckless, it's because she felt she wasn't getting any headway with the socks in the garbage, and seeing Vergil pubicly 'flaunt' his authority over Pollux was giving her the wrong signals. So she tried to 'help' the elf in her own way.
Sadly, since Hermione isn't a member of the faculty, she CANNOT release a house elf even by giving them clothes. At the very least, she's only succeeded in insulting every elf that works in Gryffindor tower and their grandmother.
At least that's my theory, I'm not a Hermione hater, if it weren't for her, the Golden Trio'd be up shit creek without a boat with Harry's recklessly running into Danger and Ron's inability to come up with a plan more complex than 'Hex the bejeezus out of them' (I know Ron isn't that bad, But I'm trying to make a point).
I merely used this to introduce House Elf customs into the story. Now the Purebloods have a better understanding of their so called 'genial servants'.
R&R!
