As several of you predicted, things are escalating this year. And with our heroes being fourteen-year-olds, more obstacles than just their real enemies are going to come up. Nobody is perfect after all, and everyone makes mistakes. The thing with the Marauder's Map last chapter was Valeria carrying several Slytherins in her purse; it was showing multiple names one on top of another. As for the Diary, it possessed the Carrows last year, and influenced at least one other student just by being around like Horcruxes do. This year, it attempted to escape Val's loving custody and ended up warping Ginny's dreams.
Disclaimer: Did the older Slytherin students not in the Quidditch team ever made an appearance in the canon story like members of every other House did, especially the girls? If not, I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs to JK Rowling and this story is entirely free and for fun.
xxxx
"Did you hear? Someone attacked the Slytherin dormitories." A whisper spread through the Gryffindor table like wildfire.
"Serves them right." An upperclassman grumbled, followed by murmurs of acceptance from at least half the Lions present.
"What happened?" A younger girl asked, eyes wide. Harry was a bit surprised at the tone. Did Gryffindors apart from him and his friends care about their rival House after all?
"Didn't know you cared, Romilda." Another student around Ginny's age mocked her. Ginny herself was glaring at the Slytherin table with a dark look, not joining the conversation at all.
"Don't be absurd, Evan." Romilda said caustically. "I just want to know how it was done so we can have repeat performances. Did you see Snape's face?"
Ah, there it was; House prejudice alive and kicking. All being right in the universe (not), Harry returned to his healthy breakfast. They had Herbology first thing in the morning along with the Ravens, followed by Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid; it was going to be a long day. Next to him Ron had already made a dent on several plates at once, and Neville was not far behind. The dark blond boy had a smile on his face and a dreamy expression reminiscent of Ron's sister when Ginny was discussing boys with Romilda Vane, or Valeria when the Slytherin witch talked about Runes, Charms, and magic best left unmentionable.
Harry had heard from sources far more reliable than the Hogwarts rumour mill that Neville was working on several side projects with Professor Sprout and there had been even talks about starting a Herbology club. Personally, he didn't see the appeal; however much his experience with Aunt Petunia's garden helped him, Herbology was still more difficult than it was fun. It was rewarding though; their overwhelming Malfoy's ambush had proven that.
"What'd you reckon happened to the Slytherins, mate?" Ron said after swallowing carefully, proving that sufficient motivation could break any bad habit. The motivation in this case being a very persistent Slug-Vomiting Curse that activated every time Ron talked with his mouth full. It had mysteriously appeared over the weekend cast by parties unknown, and for some reason neither Madam Pomfrey nor Professor McGonagal could find the counter-curse.
"I don't know." Harry said, staring at the emptier than usual table with the green and silver decorations. "Madam Pomfrey didn't let me into the Infirmary when I visited, told me it might be contagious."
"Well, whatever it was it's OK now." Ron pointed at a trio of very familiar girls in green-trimmed uniforms with a fork. "Val's all right this morning, and Daphne and Tracey recovered yesterday."
"It's not OK Ron. Malfoy is missing. As are Crabbe, Goyle, and half the Slytherin Quidditch team."
"Who cares." The redhead said with a shrug, took another bite of eggs and bacon, swallowed, and continued. The only downside of Ron's 'mysterious' illness was that his conversation speed had dropped dramatically. "It's just Malfoy and his goons. Too bad there won't be any Quidditch games this year; with them gone Slytherin wouldn't stand a chance."
Harry winced at Ron's insensitivity. He had been guilty of laughing at the Slytherins' misfortune along with Ron several times in the past, but had never wished anyone real harm, except for Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Ron might not realize it, but he sounded just like Malfoy had in their second year when he gleefully supported the Heir of Slytherin in spirit if not in action.
"I'll go ask the girls what happened." He stated, no longer that hungry. He was beginning to see how immature Ron could be at times and wished his friend would grow up sometime soon. He was getting better just as Harry had - he distinctly remembered them spending several days out of their first ever Christmas break together thinking up plans to get back at Malfoy, get him expelled, retaliate totally out of proportion. That this was the first time Harry ever felt bad about something happening to Malfoy and his group had him worried. How much had he grown up, really? Was he any better than Ron?
"Hey Harry. Did you want something?" Tracey spoke up, breaking his train of thought. A good thing, that; he'd already reached his destination without realizing it. Being worried about other students potentially in danger was one thing; making a fool of himself before all of Slytherin was quite another.
"Hey Potter, how come you only come here when you want to talk to girls?" A sixth-year girl he didn't know demanded to the amusement of several of her fellows. "Tired of playing with kittens and want to try out some real women?" Catcalls and whistling followed, rooting Harry to the spot. His face burning, he averted his eyes from the tall, busty brunette with the nasty smirk and eyes like flint.
"Shut up, Yaxley!" Daphne spat back sharply, and Harry could have kissed her for defending him... if he could have avoided dying from embarrassment after confirming the older witch's accusation. "Is Malfoy's hand so far up your arse that his words are coming out of your mouth?"
"Why Greengrass, you have a thing for little cubs now?" The tall brunette sneered, and indeed she sounded like Malfoy. Harry was no longer so embarrassed... OK, that was a lie. He still was very uncomfortable to have the attention of a girl that outclassed him in age, size, and looks for all the wrong reasons... but the cattiness, anger, and pure venom coming off the Slytherin table had him more wary than anything else. They barely kept to unfriendly coexistence now, all pretence to a unified front gone. Even more unusual, it was the girls that spearheaded the hostilities... probably because several of the most prominent boys were absent. "Word of warning, Potter; if the Ice Princess doesn't put you in ice and show you off at her parties, she'll gobble you up and spit out the bones."
Wands were drawn. Harry looked around for a Professor, but none of them seemed to be paying attention to the House tables... or be around at all. In fact, the only Professors in the Great Hall appeared to be Snape and Professor Vector and they seemed more interested in their personal discussion than keeping order. Maybe everyone else had Tournament business or something...
"Let's go." Valeria said, rising form her seat. "Too much immaturity in too small a space, if you ask me." Tracey followed suit, while Daphne still held the Yaxley girl at wandpoint while the sixth-year and her friends were all ready for a fight.
"Sit down, mudblood." The older witch commanded, obviously unwilling to let it go. "We're not done."
Harry tensed, about to go for his own wand. Things were about to get nasty; Harry's first Slytherin friend was vindictive and could be brash as any Gryffindor when she felt like it. Except Valeria didn't hex the Yaxley girl; she reached for the plate full of bacon instead. One tap with her index finger and a crispy strip of deliciously greasy meat shrivelled and blackened, then the next and the next. In seconds the entire plate's contents rotted away, the delicious smell of breakfast overpowered by that of dead meat.
"I'm done, Yaxley." The short blonde witch shrugged in the silence that followed. "But if you're still hungry, there's plenty of bacon left."
xxxx
"You can wandlessly do major curses now?" Tracey demanded as soon as they'd gotten to the castle grounds. Harry could tell she was even less calm than she appeared to be, and Daphne's expressionless mask spoke volumes on how the confrontation had affected her.
"That's what Yaxley believes so she'll shut up for now." Valeria said with a frown. "We really need to do something about the situation, or the common room will become a warzone."
"Cool!" Ron said, having followed their group out of the Great Hall. "More gits sent to the hospital wing." He smiled at the girls. "What curse are we talking about? Did Val hit Yaxley with a Scalping Hex or a Shrinking Hex? 'Cause that would be real shame." There was no doubt in Harry's mind about what Ron meant and he hoped the girls were too distracted by recent events to notice... for Ron's sake.
"She withered a whole plateful of bacon with a touch. No words, no wand." Tracey explained and shivered. The glare she sent at the other girl was both accusing and... hurt? That didn't make sense.
"Val didn't know, Trace." Daphne tried to comfort her. "I mean..."
"Does it matter?" Tracey shivered again, her eyes gleaming with tears as she turned away from them. "At home I have to check everything I eat, drink, or even touch. I can't do it here too, Daph. I won't!"
"It was a trick, Tracey." Valeria said, obviously not having expected such a reaction. Harry himself hadn't. He didn't see the previously invisible metal thimble in Val's index finger coming either. "See? An item so small is dead easy to make invisible. Then I worked all Sunday evening to curse it and it still wouldn't have lasted more than a day or two. With Malfoy and his goons missing, Yaxley was gearing up to make her move. We only needed her scared for a couple of weeks."
"Of all the Merlin-damned, bollixed-up, bloody awful... GAAH!" Daphne growled in rage and exasperation; Harry and Ron took several hasty steps back. "Are you bloody retarded? Using a curse that kills people by rotting them limb from limb to grandstand? You know what? I'm done trying to explain how tact and calculated, proportionate responses will keep you out of Azkaban." She caught Tracey in a comforting embrace and turned to march off. "See you in Defence, I guess." She said over her shoulder. "If this doesn't blow up in your face come find us in the evening."
"Wow, Daphne sure seemed angry." Ron commented, pausing to chew on a piece of toast he'd brought with him from the Great Hall. "You had it coming, though. Dark Magic is illegal for a reason."
"Oh piss off, Ronald Weasley." The blonde Slytherin growled and stomped off much like her friends, but in the opposite direction. Harry ran after her. They had Herbology in only a few minutes but he'd have to make it up to Professor Sprout later; friends were more important.
"What did happen over the weekend?" He asked once he'd caught up with her, his long practice sessions with Dudley allowing him to easily match her pace. "You all seem, I dunno, on edge. As bad as Wood had been before a tough match, even. Aren't Slytherins supposed to be..."
"Please Harry, not now." They'd reached where the Black Lake met the edge of the Forbidden Forest and they leaned against one of the massive, gnarled, ancient trees, breathing a bit heavily after their sprint. Well, Valeria was. Harry was barely even winded. They stood under the shadow of the great tree in silence, staring at the waters of the lake gleaming in reflected sunlight. Hogwarts loomed in the distance, taking up most of their field of view while still half a mile away.
"Someone hit the Slytherin dungeons with an airborne potion." Valeria finally said uneasily. Either their friends' reactions to her earlier stunt had curbed her usual enthusiasm, or something else bothered her deeply. Harry did not press for answers; it was more likely he'd get hexed instead. "By the time Professor Snape was called in, everyone who'd been inside for the whole time had taken a strong dose, and those who'd dropped in later were also affected. Malfoy and his minions - Merlin, they sound like a silly muggle band - were nowhere to be found and are presumed guilty by most of us. His supporters, those who want to take his place like Yaxley does, and the neutrals... we're in all but open warfare over the incident."
"But why?" Harry demanded, confused. "So Malfoy pulled off some asinine prank to show everyone who's boss then couldn't own up to it. So what? We all know he's a prick... why fight over it?"
"It's not just about that, Harry." His friend sighed tiredly and slid down the tree trunk. "When there's a power vacuum in any competitive situation, there's always a fight on who will fill it. Sometimes it might be disguised such as in Democracies where leaders are supposedly voted on, but it always happens. And in this case there are other factors, such as the incident itself."
"What about it?" He wasn't sure he bought his friend's cynical views, or that he understood why Slytherin House would be so openly divided over them.
"The potion used was unstable, according to Madam Pomfrey. It caused melancholy and despair, anger, even dangerously impulsive behaviour. Professor Snape brewed an antidote we have to take daily for the next two weeks or else we'd all be either catatonic or foaming at the mouth and attacking anything in sight."
"Wow." To to that to an entire House... he'd never see Potions as a needlessly hard and too slow to be useful subject again. "So that's why you're all a bit... crazy?"
"Yeah. Some of us, like Yaxley, got it worse than others. Or she's always been a bitch." She shrugged, a small smile showing on her sad face. "I could never tell."
"Will you be all right?" Being in Slytherin in that kind of situation didn't strike him as very safe. He'd experienced something similar during the whole Chamber of Secrets fiasco but he was a Gryffindor and the Boy-Who-Lived, not a muggleborn in Slytherin. Valeria would be in much greater danger.
"Don't worry about me, Harry." His friend replied, but he could see her relief and happiness that at least one friend had stuck by her that day. He could not blame Tracey for being scared of a deadly curse she'd almost died to before, or Daphne for being angry at Valeria's bold and ambitious to the point of insanity plans. He could blame Ron for being immature, but he chose not to. But he would do much to see his friend happy again, and reckoned Neville would agree. Maybe he should talk to him after Herbology, fill him in on what he'd missed.
"No, Malfoy has to worry about what'll happen when he's found." They both laughed at that and their problems faded a little.
xxxx
Care of Magical Creatures was worse than usual. Hagrid had brought in a batch of hideous monsters that even as newly-hatched, tiny little things, they had several ways to hurt you. Valeria had her suspicions on what the Blast-Ended Skrewts really were, but couldn't confirm them. Tracey was not talking to her; she was way too focused on her conversation with an uncharacteristically unenthusiastic Hagrid. After reading the Skrewts' potential beneficial properties out of a list, the half-giant had warned them to wear their dragonhide gloves, cast repelling charms on their robes that would prevent any mud, blood, slime, or poison from clinging to them, and remember their Shield Charms. Then he'd left them to their own devices and talked with Tracey in hushed tones.
That was very odd. Hagrid had taught them about Firecrabs last year and she knew for a fact he'd brought in a Manticore for several NEWT-level lessons so he should have been much more excited that his oh-so-secret and moderately illegal Manticore-Firecrab hybrids had panned out. Valeria wanted to learn what was wrong with her biggest friend, but couldn't approach him while Tracey was there.
Monsters whose hide was potentially as fireproof and potionproof as Firecrab shells and as magic-resistant as Manticore skin, who could magically produce fire, were amphibious, and had stingers with instantly lethal Manticore venom were very interesting, but Valeria couldn't concentrate on the lesson. The ugliness of the baby Skrewts wasn't stopping her; this morning's deception was far more repulsive. Why did the plan have to affect Daphne and Tracey so badly? Could she have known of Tracey's fears in advance? Possibly... but she'd never bothered to really look into her friends' private life. Some friend she was.
On the other hand, the situation in Slytherin had reached a tipping point. Hostility towards her and her friends had risen dangerously over the weekend alone, and Malfoy seemed to be in control of the entire House. Some of the older students like Yaxley had begun to back him up due to their shared beliefs about blood purity if for nothing else, and sooner or later he'd prepare a much bigger and more effective ambush. Thus the need to ruin his reputation, at least in the short run. The plan to gas the entire House, send him away to make him look guilty and prevent him from spinning the situation to his advantage, and then indirectly spread rumours that he was responsible had worked and the danger of much more serious bullying than in her first year had been averted.
Unfortunately, she'd both had to keep everything from her friends in case they were interrogated, and gas herself after she'd gotten rid of all the evidence so as not to stand out. That too had worked, but not as well as she'd expected. Madam Pomfrey had not managed to find a perfect antidote to her intentionally botched potion and the effects would last for a few days, making the whole House more volatile before things settled down again. That, and Valeria being not nearly as good a friend as she'd previously thought directly led to the fight with Daphne and Tracey...
She'd make amends, she vowed silently, but first she'd have to survive the next couple of hours on her own. The Slytherins had Defence Against the Dark Arts next, and Professor Snape had warned her about the mad ex-Auror that would be their instructor.
xxxx
"Listen here, you pansies." The stocky, ugly man with the crazy magical eye, peg leg, and too many scars commanded. "The Dark Arts are not something you can learn from a book, or the silly schoolyard jinxes you're so very fond of using." He glared at all of them. The Ravenclaws looked affronted at his claim about books not helping, and the Slytherins glared back. Most of them had heard stories about Alastor Moody. Some of them silly, some of them scary, all of them certainly blow out of proportion by rumour... probably. The man had fought in two major wars and sent several of their relatives to Azkaban after all.
"Greengrass!" Daphne jumped at being addressed so, and not only from the suddenness of it; she'd been staring at Valeria from several desks over, a thoughtful frown on her face. "What is the most dangerous, lethal, situationally legal curse in Britain?"
"I don't know, sir." The regal blonde said stiffly.
"Really? Your father being who he is, I find that hard to believe." Daphne's face paled in anger but Moody pretended not to notice. Out of the first in a series of jars he'd prepared for the lesson, he fished out a tiny humanoid figure with a disproportionately large head; a garden gnome.
"Atermors!"
A jagged black bolt launched itself out of Moody's wand, following an erratic path like a cloud of angry insects, and yet unerringly hit the escaping magical pest. The gnome screamed in its tiny voice and fell over, black spots racing out from the point of impact and all over his body. At places his flesh sagged, burst, and thick pus run from the wounds. Less than a minute later the gnome was still, too small to survive such powerful dark magic; it would never move again.
"Casting the Plague Curse is not an immediately Azkaban-worthy offence because the results are treatable today, to a point. Magic can stop the infection from spreading into new victims, and remove it from existing hosts, but cannot cure the damage; only time will do that. Muggles on the other hand cannot cure at all any hosts magically infected, and the same applies to most beings or beasts without access to healing magic or natural regeneration. Thus the curse is legal when fighting such beasts and beings, as well as in Dueling competitions where immediate Healing is available." The class looked at the dead gnome with expressions ranging from disgust to eagerness.
"Zabini!" Moody's voice cracked like a whip. "What is the darkest legal controlling magic?"
"Contractual Binding, sir." The boy said neither loudly nor silently, in a firm voice devoid of expression.
"Ah yes." Moody smirked. "Your mother would know it well, I reckon?" Not getting a response despite Blaize clenching his fists until his nails drew blood, Moody picked up another gnome. He put a crimson-coloured quill in its hand then forced it to use the comically large for it writing implement to sign a sheet of parchment.
"Obligo!"
Casting some sort of powerful but unseen spell on the parchment, he used the Gouging Spell to carve a circle into the classroom's stone floor and put the Gnome inside. "That contract was spelled with a fairly strong Binding and said that the signatory would not cross any circles for the next hour. Since gnomes can't read, let's see what happens."
Predictably, the gnome tried to run for it as soon as it saw nobody was holding it and no obstacle barred its path. As soon as it crossed the circle's edge however, it halted in its tracks and begun to convulse, as if by a seizure. Moments later, it too was dead, bleeding from its eyes, ears, mouth, and nose. "As you can see" Moody said conversationally "The caster of a Contractual Binding sets clauses the signatory must follow, and puts into the contract the magic that will apply should it be breached. The stronger the caster, the more powerful the magical backlash if it's broken and the easier it is to be entered into it. A sufficiently powerful wizard could enter someone into a contract if they had fresh blood or some form of authority over the signatory. In this case, the gnome came from my house and thus, as far as the contract were concerned, belonged to me. Otherwise, I could not have entered it against its will."
Moody waved his hand, and three more gnomes floated out of their jars, only to stand before him. "As Mister Malfoy, Miss Parkinson, and Mister Nott have failed to grace us with their presence, there's little need for theatrics for this last part. Pay attention now."
"Crucio! Imperio! Avada Kedavra!"
The gnome struck by the powerful green flash of the Killing Curse had been hit last but died first, peacefully and silently. The one affected by the invisible power of the Domination Curse clawed out its throat with its own hands, then bled out. The one hit by the Torture Curse screamed and screamed and screamed until it could do so no more. After five minutes, it literally screamed itself to death by suffocation as its lungs and throat collapsed.
"Can any of you tell me what the difference between the Unforgivables, Contractual Binding, and the Plague Curse is?" Moody asked in the silence than followed.
"Nothing but legal fiction, sir." Valeria said, staring at the gnomes. "All of them are dead."
"Your name is Campbell?" He asked, fixing her with both his normal and his magical eyes.
"Yes, sir."
"Class dismissed." Moody growled. "Campbell, stay behind."
Valeria really didn't want to stay in the presence of the very crazy ex-Auror alone but everyone else scrambled to flee; they really didn't want to share her fate. Cowards, the lot of them. As soon as the class emptied, Moody grunted again, made a show of collapsing on his chair, and started fiddling with his peg leg. Valeria waited tensely as the dangerously deranged man removed his leg and started cleaning and fixing it. She was tempted to sit down, bolt towards the door, do anything to break the tense silence, but didn't. Even if Moody hadn't been testing her, she got the impression that turning her back to him was a bad idea.
"What the hell was that business with the bacon during breakfast, Campbell?" He demanded half an hour later.
"Sir?"
"None of that now. We both know you did it to put the Yaxley girl in her place." He snorted. "What do you think Yaxley and her friends will do once they calm down enough to remember you have to sleep?"
"With all due respect, sir, that's none of your business."
"Right." Moody said, almost smiling now. It was scary. "Detention, effective immediately. You gather up the dead gnomes and go bury them by the Forest's edge. No magic, no tools or protection, no help from anyone or I'll have you exhuming them and burying them again. Five gnomes ain't so big you can't do it with your bare hands."
"Yes, sir." She said through gritted teeth. Revolting to most people as it might have been, the task would not be an issue by itself. As someone dabbling in Necromancy she'd handled corpses many times, and preparing ingredients for Potions was even worse. No, the real issue was time; having to do it by hand, it might take the entire afternoon.
How was she going to reconciliate with Daphne and Tracey if she missed their meeting?
xxxx
"I must admit Draco, I am disappointed." Lucius Malfoy said, frowning down at his son. "Not only did you fail before you could even begin, but you and your friends were removed from school through the efforts of a single mudblood."
"Father, we don't know-"
"Silence!" The Malfoy patriarch commanded. "You had arranged that ambush well enough. Who else could it have been? Potter's bitch was alone in her dormitory. Do you know how many expensive restorative potions I've had to waste to cure you and the others of depression? Not to mention all the favours with both the Board of Governors and Severus to ensure you and your friends can return to Hogwarts without repercussions."
The Elder Malfoy had had a plan to teach his son a few things about leadership and extend the Malfoy network of influence at the same time. Things at the Ministry were going well enough - that bitch Bones had enemies on almost every faction - so gathering his strength for a final blow to her administration by the end of the year had been the next move. But now...
"Father please! I can fix this. The new class of graduates will hate or feel contempt for Dumbledore and the Ministry by the end of the year and then..."
"Yes they will." Lucius said, a new plot blossoming in his mind that would overcome this frustrating setback. "Pick one of your friends that is the most trustworthy. If they do the tasks I give them well, you'll be forgiven. If not, I'll take out of your hide every single wasted Knut. I should never have let your mother convince me you needed more time to grow up and mature. Not with Selwyn on the move as he is."
Draco gulped and wondered whether Pansy would agree to help after this debacle. Nott was unreliable, Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid, and the rest of his group would not hesitate to stab him in the back. He hoped her hatred for Potter, Greengrass, and Campbell was greater than her anger for his dragging her into his dismally failed revenge attempt.
If not, he didn't think he'd survive this.