"Martin Lodge, pureblood," the boy next to him volunteered next.
Pattern established, the gazes of the first years shifted to Harris. "Harris Tragyl, pureblood."
"Tragyl," Avery said, before Evalyn could introduce herself. "My father speaks of yours. Your mother is a Gryffindor, isn't she?"
Knowing it was a dangerous admission in present company, he nodded.
Avery pressed his lips together into a thin line. "You are?" he asked Evalyn, summarily dismissing Harris.
Lifting her chin with the ease of habit, answered cooly, "Evalyn Watson, pureblood." The introduction was so far from her smiling, "I'm Evalyn Watson," that she'd given on the train that he wondered if it was even the same girl.
The girl beside her introduced herself as "Madeline Talbot, pureblood."
Gazes shifted to the last first year, seated across from Avery. She seemed to shrink under their scrutiny. "Candice Nickels."
When it became obvious that no 'pureblood' was forthcoming, Martin Lodge frowned uncertainly. "Mudblood?"
Candice bit her lip, but sat up in offense, angry pinks spots coloring her cheeks. "My father is Muggle," she said tightly. "Mother was pureblood Slytherin." Harris noted the past tense, but dared not ask.
Evalyn diverted attention from the unfortunate Slytherin girl by shifting it in a direction Harris would rather have avoided. "That pipsqueak was your brother?"
"Looks like a Weasley, if you ask me," Martin said, his voice disparaging, shooting a dark look at the Gryffindor table, where two red-heads were sitting side by side. A minor dispute between the pair appeared to be quickly escalating toward a food fight.
"Charlie and Bill are third cousins on my mother's side," Harris admitted. He didn't let his voice show that he wished the ground would swallow him whole. Not only did his new Slytherin classmates know he had Gryffindor blood, but they knew it was Weasley Gryffindor blood. He was fairly sure he was better off than Candice, but not by much.
"Talbot," Avery redirected the conversation, possibly finding the Weasleys to be an inappropriate dinnertime topic. "I don't believe I'm familiar with your family name."
Madeline shifted uneasily, but she answered clearly, "I am the first to attend Hogwarts. Both of my parents studied at Beauxbatons." Now that she had spoken more than her name, Harris could detect a faint French accent to her words. She was an unknown quantity. Avery wouldn't like that. She'd rank fourth in the pecking order as long as Evalyn and Martin didn't have skeletons in their pedigrees. Harris assumed Avery would take the top spot. His family was wealthier and more well known than either the Lodges or the Watsons.
Avery did not challenge either of the others, and they did not offer up any embarassing family secrets to drop themselves down a rung or two of the social ladder. Martin made the first attempt to dethrone Avery. "I hear your father is under investigation, Weston."
He shrugged, unconcerned. "Nothing will come of it. They have no proof, and my father is nearly as untouchable as Malfoy. Your grandfather was not so fortunate, was he, Tragyl?"
Harris fount himself suddenly the center of attention again. He chewed quickly, praying that he didn't have spaghetti sauce all over his face, and swallowed. "Uh, no, he wasn't." He wasn't sure if it would be wiser to insist on the man's innocence or pretend he was guilty. He dabbed a napkin against his mouth, and was pleased to see that it came away fairly clean. He folded it neatly and placed it beside his plate, then looked up at his classmates, widening his eyes a fraction to indicate that was all he intended to say on the subject.
"Your grandfather is in Azkaban?" Madeline asked, looking confused enough for him to attribute the question to difficulty following the conversation rather than intentional cruelty.
"Yes," he answered shortly. She looked horrified at this revelation, though he couldn't tell if that was because of the perceived crime to get there, or the bad luck that he'd been caught. She cleared up the issue by shifting her chair a few inches farther from him. Of couse, that put her nearer Avery, who never actually said his father was innocent. From the nasty remarks Mrs. Tragyl made about the Averys, chances were slim that they weren't involved somehow. But as Weston said, that didn't prove anything.
Truth be told, she said the same kinds of things about her in-laws.
Fortunately, Dumbledore ended the discussion by giving his start-of-term announcements and sending them on their way. The six first years gathered around their Prefect, a sixth year named Amanda Walters. She led the way down to the Slytherin dormitories in the dungeons. "Influence," she told a blank stone wall. It swung open to a long, narrow room. She stood in front of a low coffee table and urged the six into a semicircle around her.
"This is the Slytherin Common Room. Boys dorms are down that hall, and the girls dorms are down the other hall," she directed, pointing in the appropriate directions. "Your things have already been brought in. Schedules will be distributed at breakfast tomorrow, at 8 o'clock. Don't be late. The Head of House is Professor Wallsby. If you have any problems come to either me or him." She clapped her hands, suddenly and loud enough to make some of the first years jump. "Now off to bed with you all."
Breakfast the next morning was significantly less painful. Clarence's small red-headed existance wasn't anywhere in evidence, thus allowing Harris to pretend nothing unusual had happened yesterday. Schedules were distributed, raising groans from some of his five classmates. "Gryffindors! We've got three classes with Gryffindors?" Avery complained.
"Only one with Hufflepuff though," Martin replied, as though offering a consolation.
Harris was probably the only one upset over the fact that they would be sharing four classes with the Ravens. Slytherins generally considered them the least objectionable of the lesser houses, but that was Clarence's nominal house. They might talk about the little firetop. That could bring attention Harris did not want.
September first of 1984 had falled on a Saturday, so it wasn't until the next day that they would have their first class. The day was sunny and warm, so the Slytherin first years decided to take a self-guided tour of the grounds. Since not one of them had read Hogwarts, A History, the only point of interest that they could recognize was the Quiddich field.
On the walk back toward the castle, they passed a group of nine first year Ravenclaws, sitting in a circle, with their prefect and a professor. Curious, Harris slowed down and veered nearer. A blond girl stood as he approached. "I'm Hilda Ross. I like strawberries and have two siblings, both younger." She turned toward the brown-haired boy next to her. "He's Justin Eckerly. He likes, um, chocolate frogs, and is an only child." She nodded at the freckled girl at Justin's other side. "That's Emily Holland. She's fond of little Clarence, and has one older brother." The speaker grinned and sent her nod toward the prefect, sitting next to Emily. "Everett Holland has one little sister, and his favorite thing is the old orange couch in the back corner of the library."
Behind him, Harris heard someone sniggered. "Em's got a crush on your baby brother, Harris" Avery said loudly. The girl named as Emily Holland spun toward them, half rising, her face flushed bright red in embarrassment and anger. The prefect, too, angrily crouched in preparation of standing.
Harris took a quick glance, and found that the other Slytherins had followed him. Avery stepped forward, establishing himself as the Slytherin leader. The girls hung back, but Martin stood beside him, offering support. Harris dared not step back to pull out of the confrontation, but he did not draw even with the other two. Baiting Ravenclaws had not been on his planned agenda for the day.
The Ravenclaw circle lost definition as they straggled to their feet and into a ragged line opposite the Slytherins. The professor with them quickly inserted herself between the two groups. She glared at the Slytherins, "Clear away, or I'll take ten points from your house."
Avery gave a mock-shudder. "Oooh, ten points."
Before he could dig himself in deeper and lose Slytherin 50 points for insolence, Evalyn grabbed him by the back of his shirt, and pulled. He was so startled by the unexpected rebellion from his own ranks, he half-fell several steps backwards before she could steady him. They glared at each other for a moment. After this, if Evalyn wasn't top Slytherin, she'd rank last in Avery's book. Challenging his leadership in front of non-Slytherins was far worse than simply having a mudblood or a Gryffindor for a parent. Number two to number six in a blink of the eye.
"It's not worth it, Weston," she told him, firmly. "Let's go." A direct order and the moment of truth. If he followed, she'd be leader, if he didn't she'd be virtually outcast. Evalyn turned and walked away without looking back, either unaware of the politics involved or not caring. The other two girls followed immediatedly. That was a twist. Their Slytherin class could break into opposing factions if Avery didn't capitulate. If he and Martin followed Evalyn, Avery wouldn't have a choice. But if they stood their ground, Avery would be leader of the guys, Evalyn leader of the girls. Harris did not look forward to seven years with only Avery and Martin as 'friends'.
Harris hesitated only a moment, then followed the girls. It wasn't until they were nearly to the castle door that he looked back. Avery and Weston had not followed, but the Ravenclaws had returned to their circle, and, presumably, their name game. The other two Slytherin boys were no where in sight. So it would be opposing factions. He was sure his mother would approve of his choice of side. But Avery and Martin would make the decision very difficult to live with. Of that, he held no doubt.
Evalyn, standing beside Harris, was also surveying the results of her tactic. "Idiots," she declared. Harris assumed she meant Avery and Martin, though he doubted pride would have let them follow Evalyn even if they had wanted to.
"Emily Holland's father is an Auror and Avery's father is a Death Eater," Candice explained. "The Hollands and Averys hate each other. He was almost obligated to make that pot-shot against Emily."
Madeline frowned. "I thought Weston said last night that his father was cleared."
Harris shook his head. "Not exactly. He said nothing would come of the accusation. There's a difference."
Candice made a face. "The difference between common knowledge and proof. The Ministry has nothing on him. Not as much nothing as there is against Lucious Malfoy, but still a lot of nothing." Madeline looked confused, and Harris couldn't blame her. Candice had the grace to notice and attempt to explain her statement, "They both have very neat alibis, no witnesses to finger point at them, and lots of money to line the pockets of lawyers and officials to help ease their way out of public suspicion."
"Oh," Madeline said quietly. Then she looked at Harris suspiciously, "Why aren't you backing up Avery? Your grandfather was -"
"My grandfather was innocent," Harris interrupted. "Avery surely knows that. He was just taking the heat off himself last night, and rubbing it in my face while he was at it. Grandfather Tragyl had a big mouth and poor judgement, but he was pretty much harmless." He scowled at them, daring them to disagree.
Evalyn lifted her hands placatingly. "Ok, we'll take your word for it." Madeline seemed less certain, but she gave him a half-smile and a nod that indicated she wouldn't bring it up again.
"We don't have to," Candice disagreed. "C'mon." She broke into a trot. The followed her into the castle, and down to the Slytherin dormitory. "My mum was an Auror before she got killed last year during a raid on a hiding Death Eater group. I got her notes." She glanced back toward Harris, "I'm assuming your grandfather's trial was before last year?"
"If you want to call it that."
"Oh!" Evalyn exclaimed as the four filed into the first year girls room. "They took out the unused beds."
"Yeah, wow. It's empty in here," added Candice. "Well, more floor room for us!" She went to a large trunk at the foot of one of the remaining three beds, and opened it. After a few moments rumaging through its contents, she drew out a thick sheaf of parchment. This she carried over to the center of the room and plopped it onto the floor. "It's sorted by date. You know when the trial was?"
"December, 1981."
She quirked her eyebrows and began flipping through the pages. "One of the first ones. Ah, here it is. Malcolm Tragyl." She turned over a pile and laid them face-down next to the original pile. The new top page, she lifted and began to read. "Today -" Candice stopped abruptly, and lowered the page. "This is mum's journal, though it mostly talks about work. The first part's about me and dad, though. I'll skip that."
As she lifted the page again, Evalyn swiped it. "Nuh-uh. We're reading the whole thing. 'Today, I bought Candi her first broomstick. She managed to fly into the kitchen window within an hour. It shattered, of course.'" Candice buried her face into her hands while her classmates grinned at each other. "'Dan said he'd fix it tomorrow, but I saved him the trouble by casting a reparo spell. Even after nine years, magic still takes him by surprise sometimes. It's adorable. His eyes just sort of widen, and he makes this little 'oh!' sound.'"
Madeline giggled, and Evalyn stopped reading long enough to grin delightedly at Candice. "That's so sweet." Then she contined reading, "'Candi only had a few minor cuts from the collision, so we bandaged her up, and didn't bother with magic. She'll rememeber the lesson longer that way. Speaking of lessons, another batch of trials began today. I only attended a handful before I had to leave. The first was -'" Evalyn broke off, "Let's skip the commentary on Dwight Zabini, shall we? Ok, here we go, 'The next up was Malcolm Tragyl. He came in looking like a stiff breeze could bowl him over. I'm not certain if it was the weight of the shackles, or fear, but the guard had to support him across to the accused's stand.'"
"Probably both," Harris added, cynically. "Grandfather was already getting to be a frail old man, and I don't think anybody has ever accused him of bravery. That's why my parents are convinced he couldn't have been a Death Eater. You-Know-Who wouldn't have wanted him."
Evalyn paused a moment, then resumed reading to break the awkward silence. "'Tragyl pleaded innoncent. I'm still skeptical, but if any of this lot are, it would be him. He's sixty years old, but he looks eighty. He's spent much of the last ten years in various pubs, and I'm not convinced he's dried out even after two weeks in prison. I'm confident the jury would probably have let him go if he hadn't said that 'Lord Voldemort should have killed my traitor son and his Gryffindor strumpet" when asked about his family.'" Evalyn stopped reading to join the other girls in staring at Harris.
He blushed faintly. "We didn't speak to Grandfather Tragyl much. On the rare occassion that we went to visit, Mom and twins stayed home."
"Why the twins, too?" Candice asked curiously.
"You saw Clarence's hair. They could easily pass as Weasleys. That would infuriate Grandfather. As far as he was concerned Clarence and Menteron didn't exist. He might have wanted to nullify Mum, too, but he couldn't give up insulting her long enough to ignore her. 'Gryffindor strumpet' was actually one of his milder terms." He shrugged, dismissively.
"My grandparents disowned my mother when she married Dad," Candice confided. "I used to think that was bad, but maybe it was happier all around that way."
Harris shrugged, unwilling to comment one way or the other. "What else does it say, Evalyn?"
She scanned the page. "Not much. It says his habit of going to Knocturn Alley so much didn't help his case any, and the jury was unanimous in its guilty verdict."
Harris suspected that the girls' opinion of his grandfather had dropped rather than risen because of the Auror's journal. Despite that, their opinion towards him had miraculously softened. He tactfully decided not to mention that Grandfather Tragyl had liked him.
Avery and Martin were already in the boys dorm when he returned. He belatedly realized that in addition to alienating the only two other Slytherin boys his age, he had also alienated his roommates. The girls could carry on a seven year war against the them to their hearts content, but they didn't need to sleep in the next bed over. This would make for an interesting Hogwarts career if nothing else.
"Uh, hi." Like the girls dorm, the empty beds had been removed. One had been pushed far off to one side. His belongings had been carelessly dumped on it, and some clothes had tumbled to the floor. Avery tossed a paperweight between his hands, drawing Harris' eye there.
"That's mine," Harris said, recognizing too late that he was stating the obvious.
"Not anymore," Avery said, tossing it up, and catching it. "I like it."
A few options crossed through Harris' mind. He discarded reaching for his wand and hexing the other boys only because he didn't know any hexes. He made a mental note to speak to his father about this shortcoming next summer. Physically assaulting them was his second choice, but with two to one odds, the inadvisability of setting a violent precident this early in the game, and the liklihood of the paperweight ending up broken curbed that desire as well, but he held it in reserve. That left reverse psychology. "Keep it. It was my mother's." That gave Avery three avenues of action. He could ignore previous ownership and keep the thing until he lost interest, then Harris could discreetely reclaim it. He could take offense to previous ownership and break it. Or he could feel tainted by previous ownership and give it back. Harris wasn't really expecting the last, but there was always a chance of getting lucky.
"Nice try," Avery taunted, and put the paperweight prominently on his dresser. Harris admitted to himself that he had never been a particularly lucky person. At least it wasn't broken.
"How many points did you lose us today?" Harris redirected.
Avery's eyes narrowed in anger. More because it reminded him of the desertion Harris and the girls had served him, than because he cared in the least that he had lost points. "Just what did you and Evalyn think you were doing?"
"Staying out of trouble, for one thing. There was a teacher right there, in case you hadn't noticed. For another, that was Ravenclaw. You know, the House that we'll be sharing five classes with? Unlike Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, they generally don't despise us out of hand. You want to make the whole school hate us?"
"What do you care? Or were you going to look for your wife in Gryffindor, like your father did? Did I mess up your wedding plans?"
Harris glowered furiously but managed to barely control the urge to jump down Avery's throat. Sarcasm met the disparagement instead. "I was so taken with Pam, too," he said stiffly and turned his back on the pair, to try to reorganize the mess on his bed.
"I'd've though Aurora Merriweather more your kind."
Harris snapped. He dropped the green and silver Slytherin tie he had just picked up, and launched himself at the other boy. Avery was surprised enough that the line had set Harris off that he didn't duck in time to avoid the first punch.
"Fight! Fight!" Martin screamed, then came in on Avery's side.
The half-open door was pushed wide as spectators arrived on the scene, egging on all three boys. Amanda and another older student wearing a Prefect's badge pushed their way into the room and separated the participants. Avery had a bloody nose. Harris was pretty sure he'd have a black eye himself before long. Martin was relatively unscathed.
"What started this?" the male prefect demanded.
"He attacked me," Avery declared, pointing at Harris.
Both prefects turned to Harris, "Why?" Amanda asked.
"He was baiting me," Harris answered sullenly. The prefects' frowns deepened. He decided not to go into details or mention the stolen paperweight. He'd deal with that later.
"And you?" Amanda asked of Martin.
"Harris jumped Weston. I was trying to pull them apart." By knocking me unconscious, Harris did not add. He only crossed his arms and glared at both of the other first years.
The two prefects regarded the three offenders for a moment. "I don't want to hear about any more baiting," Amanda told Avery sternly, "Aaron, bring these two to the hospital wing if they want," she instructed a third year spectator. Then she looked at Harris and gestured toward the door, "You're coming with us to see Professor Wallsby. This is not a good start to the year, Harris." He didn't need to turn around to know that Avery and Martin were smirking at him as he was led away by the prefects.
He thought about correcting Amanda. This wasn't a bad start to a year. This was a very bad start to the seven years he'd need to live with these people. He decided she probably didn't care, so he didn't bother mentioning it.
Professor Wallsby was in his office when they arrived. Harris briefly wondered if the man had gotten wind of events, or if he'd been there anyway. He dismissed it as unimportant. "Professor, Harris assaulted one of the other first years," Amanda announced.
Harris scowled at the gross twisting of events. But He insulted me first seemed like a poor line of defense, and He said Aurora Merriweather's name sounded even worse.
Wallsby frowned, taking the scowl as unrepentance and confirmation of the charge. "This is a serious offense, Harris. If I hear of it happening again, you will be expelled, do you understand that?"
"Perfectly, Professor" he answered, tightly enough to show that he took offense to the implication that he might not understand. He wasn't a stupid thug. Though, given the evidence available to the Head of House, it was probably a valid conclusion. He had, after all, just gotten into a fight on his first full day at Hogwarts, and hadn't said a word in defense.
The professor gave him a hard look, then passed sentence, "You have detention all this week. Report here after dinner tomorrow. I'll be sending your parents an owl about this." Harris nodded, hiding his dismay. That was to be expected. Best write to Mum as soon as he got back, explaining what happened. With luck, he could forestall a howler.
Wallsby drew out a form from a desk drawer. Harris caught the word DETENTION along its top, and decided not to bother looking too closely. "Your full name?" Wallsby asked briefly. Harris got the distince impression the man didn't really care what his name was, but he needed something to write on the form. And probably to know whose parents to send the owl to.
He considered lying, but tossed out the idea very quickly. He was in enough trouble already and the prefects knew his first name. "Harris Tragyl. Harris Malcolm Tragyl," he added, in case the professor cared what his middle name was.
Wallsby penned this on one of the lines, and continued to fill out the remainder of the form without Harris' assistance. As he neared the end of the document, he asked without looking up, "What was the name of the student you assaulted?"
There was that word again. "I got in a fight with Weston Avery, Professor. I might have thrown the first punch, but he and Martin got in their fair share at me. It was a brawl, not an assault, sir."
Wallsby lowered his quill and looked at Harris as though for the first time. Then he glanced at Amanda. She clarified her original report, "Harris claimed Weston baited him into a fight. Weston claimed Harris attacked him. Martin - I assume the other boy was Martin - claimed to be trying to get them apart."
"Look at this," Harris disagreed, pulling back the sleeve on his left arm. The Head of House made an odd sound as Harris thrust his fore arm in the teacher's direction to show off his wound. "Martin bit me. Does that sound like someone trying to pull me away?"
"That does sound . . . belligerent," Wallsby conceded, fully recovered from his surprise at seeing the ugly red mark on Harris's arm. "Martin and Weston will also receive an additional two days of detention, bringing their count up to a week as well."
"How many points did they lose us for disturbing the Ravenclaws? That was the incident that ultimately caused the fight." Sort of.
Wallsby sighed. "Fortunately, only ten. Professor Vector took off twenty for Weston's behaviour, but gave ten to the girl for trying to make him back down."
"Evalyn?"
"I suppose so." Right, if he'd known Evalyn's name, he would have said it. "Amanda, bring him to see Madame Pomfrey. His eye is turning purple as I watch, and that arm should be seen to." He picked up the quill again, crossed out a sentence, and began writing.
They were eating dinner when the first owl arrived at the Tragyl residence. The boys had all returned from their various overnight visits none the worse for the experiences. Grandmother Tragyl had somehow convinced her daughter-in-law to let Tryna stay another night, so three chairs around the table sat empty. Harris, of couse, was at Hogwarts. Clarence, stuck in a leg-lock curse, was more or less confined to his room. None of the brothers had yet spoken to the younger twin, and they all itched for the meal, and consequently Clarence's 'solitary punishment' time, to come to a swift end so they could get the full story out of him.
Relieved for the break in the heavy anticipation that hung over the table like a cloud, Valr let in the bird, and untied the missive. "From Hogwarts. Bet it's about Clarence," he offered to any of his brothers who cared to take him up on it.
"A bag of Every Flavor Beans," Menteron agreed, before any of his brothers could. Valr nodded his acceptance of the wager. Mrs. Tragyl looked for a moment like she wanted to say something against the rampant gambling her sons had recently taken to. Then she sighed and let it pass.
Jansten gave the owl a treat and water as Valr opened the envelope. Before he opened it to read, Valr asked, "Should we get Clarence down here?"
"Why?" Menteron taunted, "It's not about him anyway." Clearly, the twin hadn't picked up on Valr's attempt to end their brother's solitary confinement early.
By the dark look Mr. Tragyl shot him, someone else had, though. "Give me the letter," their father instructed tersely, effectively ending the argument. Valr gave him an innocently disappointed look, but handed it over. Mr. Tragyl read the missive, his face darkening. When he finished, he gave it to his wife. She, too, began scowling as she read. "That boy is in serious trouble," Mr. Tragyl said as she folded it along its creases.
A bag of candy hanging in the balance, Valr and Menteron followed this exchange avidly. "Ha!" Menteron cheered. "We already know Clarence is in serious trouble, so that's not news, it's about Harris, isn't it?"
"It could still be Clarence," Valr argued back, "As you said, he is the one already in serious trouble, it could be something else to put him in even deeper."
"Nuh-uh," Menteron disagreed, "Clarence can't get in any more trouble."
"Sure he could," Valr returned, almost cheerfully. It wasn't that he wanted Clarence to get in more trouble, exactly. But he did want that bag of Beans.
"Quiet, both of you," their mother cut off Menteron's next retort. Apparently realizing she'd have a better chance of obediance if she settled the argument, she added, "Harris got in a fight already."
All of the boys fell silent. Even in triumph, Menteron was too surprised to celebrate. Their parents looked at each other, and a conversation Valr could not follow seemed to pass between them. As if responding to a signal, they both stood and went into the next room. Valr broke the silence, "He must have been framed. Harris wouldn't fight anybody."
"This isn't good," Jansten opined. "By the time we get to Hogwarts, the teachers are going to think all Tragyls are troublemakers. First Clarence, then Harris . . ."
"And they haven't even met Menteron or Valr yet," Brent added.
Valr blinked in offense. "I am not a troublemaker," he disagreed. Judging by the looks his brothers all gave him, he was alone in this opinion. He chose to drop the subject. "Harris certainly isn't. Harris is almost as stiff as Jansten."
Jansten frowned, but did not deny the charge. "It doesn't sound like something he'd do," the oldest brother present conceded.
"Yeah," Menteron agreed, "If he was gonna beat someone up, he'd'a done it to me by now."
That seemed to settle the issue. Harris was innocent.
The second owl came shortly after the boys were excused from the dinner table. Their parents had returned to the kitchen with grim expressions, and the meal had coninued in tense silence. The bird came knocking at the window as the boys were dropping off thier plates and cups into the sink. Menteron reached it first and detached its missive. "From Harris!" he declared.
Mr. Tragyl slipped the letter right out of the boy's hands, and began opening it. Menteron looked surprised for a moment, then grinned widely, "Wow! That was smooth, Dad!"
"Thanks, Midget," his father returned dryly. "How 'bout you give that bird some food and water."
Menteron gave the owl on his arm a startled look, as though he hadn't realized it was still there. "Oh, right."
Mr. Tragyl's face remained impassive as he read Harris's note. Like the first one, he handed it to his wife when he finished. The brothers were able to glean a little more from her expression. It started with a small frown, which soon blossomed to outrage. "He's not a boy, he's a demon," she declared as she thrust the note back towards her husband, too angry to fold it herself.
The brothers looked at each other in confusion. Surely their mother wouldn't say such things about Harris, would she? Granted, she called Menteron a devil all the time, but everyone knew she was joking. This wasn't a joke.
"Even his father wouldn't say something so crass!" their mother continued to rant, throwing the boys into greater confusion. That their parents fought regularly was no secret, but she talking about him as though he weren't standing right there, and Mr. Tragyl looked only slightly put out by the insult. "Harris should get a medal for punching his face in, not a detention!"
"Darling," Mr. Tragyl interrupted, with gentle rebuke, "the children are listening."
Their mother flushed brightly. "Violence is never an acceptable solution to your problems," she covered her burst of temper with saintly virtue. Valr discretely covered a grin, though the unholy delight in Menteron's expression showed that not all his brothers were even pretending to let her live down the mistake.
"Why don't you boys go check in on your brother," Mr. Tragyl rescued her. None of the boys hesitated at the chance to to get Clarence's story or relate Harris's predicament to him. They had cleared from the kitchen almost before their father finished speaking.
Waltr watched them go, then looked at his wife. "I suppose the detention will be enough punishment for Harris."
Keri grimaced, still a little red in the face. "Upon recent consideration, we probably need not send a Howler, after all," she agreed loftily. Waltr swallowed his amusement, knowing his wife's self-restraint was based solely on remnant embarrassment from her outburst in front of the boys.
"So you're really in Ravenclaw?" Menteron asked when Clarence had finished his tale. He sounded almost worshipful. The other brothers ranged in expression from impressed to envious. Except Jansten, of course, who had worn an expression of dour disapproval throughout the recitation. Clarence didn't mind. That his brother was listening at all proved he was curious.
"Yup," Clarence confirmed. "They even lost ten points because of me." It wasn't exactly something to be proud of, but it did prove he was a real member of the House.
"And dad really put you in a leg-lock curse?" Brent asked, looking at Clarence's lower appendages as though they should look different just because they couldn't move.
"For three whole days," Clarence declared. His brothers seemed almost as awed by this as by the fact that he had made it to Hogwarts or been Sorted. No doubt that had not been his father's intent, but Clarence reveled in the attention. "See, this is me wiggling my toes." They all watched his feet, but nothing happened.
"Wow," Menteron breathed, as if something truly remarkable had just happened. Truth was, the leg-lock curse didn't even affect his toes, he just hadn't tried to wiggle them. But none of his brothers knew that.
"Does it hurt?" Kib asked, wide eyed.
"Nah," Clarence assured the three year old. It didn't either, which had kind of surprised him at first. "It's just weird that when I tell stuff to move, it doesn't."
"Oh." Their youngest brother seemed satisfied by this response to his query, and faded back among his older siblings.
"You're not the only one in trouble," Valr announced when it became obvious nobody else had any more questions about the Hogwarts excursion. "Harris got in a fight." Clarence stared at his brother. Valr couldn't possibly think he'd buy this story. "Mum wants to give him a medal, but Dad seems ok with the detention he got."
Clarence looked at his twin, who was nodding. Were they all in this scam? A scan of the other brothers' expressions showed no surprise, only amused confirmation. They were all in on it then. Kib would break first. "Really?" he asked his only younger brother.
They small boy nodded. "'Vie-dolence is never a 'septical solution to problems,'" he said solemnly. By the grins and chortles coming from his older brothers - even Jansten had cracked an involuntary smile - Clarence was clearly missing something. Kib grinned brightly at them, pleased by the response he had created.
Taking pity on his obvious confusion, Brent explained, "That's what Mum said when she realized we heard her said Harris should be rewarded for punching some kid in the face. 'Violence is never an acceptible solution to your problems.'"
For the first time, Clarence consider the possibility that the story might be true. Kib simply didn't know words like violence and acceptible. He had to be quoting somebody. Clarence wavered. "Harris really got in a fight?"
"That's what Mother says the owls said," Jansten confirmed. Jansten didn't lie. Jansten didn't know how to lie. If he said it, it was true.
"And Mum approved?" That was even harder to swallow. Just plain wrong, even. From time to time, Harris did look like he might want to punch out the lights of one of his brothers, especially Menteron's. But Mum supporting the violent sentiment?
"Evidently," Jansten validated. "Not at first, but after she read what Harris wrote, she seemed to." Clarence looked around at his brothers. None of them gave any indication this was anything but simple truth.
"Wow." Now that was something truly remarkable.
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