Disclaimer: Don't own it, no sir!
In the minds of many people, most of whom it should be noted had never entered the place, it was assumed that the Slytherin common room was sumptuous beyond imagination. The reality, despite the fervent wishes of the occupants, was very different. True, the armchairs were comfortable, stuffed plush with the finest down of eider ducks, but the material was worn, it's once vibrant designs of gold and silver barely visible from the wear and tear of successive generations of young aspirant lords. A draught blew through the room and regularly rattled the two grand upright suits of armour from the days of Bartolomeaus the Brilliant. Adorning the walls were countless priceless tokens from the great wizarding families of old; the wand of Wido the Wise and the Staff of Scientia, one of the few sorceresses of the Middle Ages; whose labels could barely be seen through the grime on the protective gemelus glass that had been installed following a particularly horrendous hexing match which had consigned both the Book of Healing and the Quill of Quisillius to ashes. It would be fair to say that, if put to an independent poll, of the four common rooms of Hogwarts the Slytherin one was in most need of a facelift. However, it also would not be disputed that of all the Houses in the school the most ostentatious fireplace was that located in the Serpent's den. Carved of marble and jade with various ancient fables intertwined in its casing it provided the occupants of the tower hours of conversation over the oft forgotten tales weaved and illuminated in its bindings.
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The pale flickering of the fire danced its reflection off the sleek golden locks atop Draco Malfoy's head. He sat, perfectly still, in a manner completely unbecoming a sixteen year old boy, face set in concentration. On the floor at his feet sat his two gargantuan human lapdogs, seemingly entranced by their master's musings. Around them there was no sound, all others banished as was the wont when a senior bade it in their House. Silence pervaded and, being a rather oppressed sound in an area of children, made its presence felt. A crack from the straightening of Draco's back ended its reign as he cleared his throat to speak.
"An extra competition, eh? Well that works to our advantage, but we need to make full use of it. Gryffindor will most likely win the Quidditch cup, but all the rest will be up for grabs by the rest of us. All we really need to do is win this Towers Cup and let natural selection to run its course to win overall."
He looked at Crabbe and Goyle, his faithful followers who gave him the edge in dominating the notoriously nefarious in-fighting of the upper years, and sighed deeply. Whilst Crabbe and Goyle were demonstrably efficient in dispatching dissenters, they were tediously slow to comprehend the most obvious conclusions. He had no hope of intellectual support from them; their eyes sadly devoid of even the slightest indication that they had understood his speech. His shoulders sagged somewhat as he realised that his plan would need to be spelt out step-by-step and possibly drawn on a large board before they understood what was needed of them.
"We need to gain the Towers cup if we are to stand any chance to win this year. And I want to win, understand? Not only that, but we have to figure out a way to make Gryffindor lose enough points that they lie below us and at least one other house in the overall points total at the end of the year. Got it?"
Four rather baleful puppy-dog eyes stared up at him. Within them burned the fire of adoration and loyalty, yet unfortunately no remote sign of understanding the plan. Draco began to realise that this would need more planning than he had originally envisaged. He had been told to practice on his delegating skills this year by his mentor; unfortunately it seemed that his mentor had made the erroneous assumption that there would be sentient beings to delegate to. Taking this rather disappointing, though not surprising, development on board he rapidly formulated a further plan.
"Crabbe, come with me. Goyle stay here and await Zabini. When he arrives, please be sure to direct him to find me at his earliest convenience. I should be in the Library."
Lazily he rose from the chair and with a bumbling Crabbe in tow left the common room with a regal swish of his school robes.
As the gap in the wall closed behind Crabbe, Goyle rose from his position on the floor and with a swift movement had crossed the room to where a pair of drapes hung from ceiling to ground. Reaching behind the left one without a second glance, he pulled out Millicent Bulstrode by her hair.
"Well, well, well." His voice was menacing and ugly, not having fully transitioned between choirboy soprano to its destined hoarse gangster tenor. "I wonder what would be a good punishment for a very bad, fat, eavesdropper."
Despite being exposed to the somewhat more lyrical Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle had not quite mastered the art of the truly terrifying threat. It was however something that he was constantly working and practising on. Before he could carry out any further attempts of verbal intimidation he found himself on the receiving end of a rather powerfully thrown right hook which reduced him to an odd half-standing half-kneeling form. With a look of utter boredom Blaize Zabini stepped out of the second drape.
"Tsk tsk. That was disappointing, a botched capture and a turgid tormenting, my commiserations Millicent on being caught out by this buffoon."
With a flash of the famous trademark Zabini pearly whites he retreated to the main corridor in search of Draco, leaving a somewhat dazzled Millicent Bulstrode and a concussed Gregory Goyle behind. A full five minutes later and the two began to waken from their Blaize induced stupor. Without a word they began to methodically check the common room for further intransients. Their security check complete they settled into the faded green fireside armchairs and began to discuss Draco's ideas.
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Amongst twenty or so people Ginny Weasley moved irritably trying to get near her brother, Harry and Hermione. Since their arrival back in the Gryffindor common room after breakfast everyone had been talking about the new competition announced by Dumbledore. Harry, Ron and Hermione had discreetly gone into a huddle in the far corner of the room next to the staircase and seemed to be in the midst of a heated debate with Hermione vigorously shaking her head peppering the movements with occasional loud and emphatic "no's". Ginny didn't need her considerable experience of observing her older brothers planning mischief to know that Harry and Ron had come up with a scheme to win the cup. With Hermione's apparent violent dislike to what they were saying it was bound to involve the bending or breaking of rules and Ginny was not in the mood to miss out on any action.
Crowded though the room was, Ginny's movements towards the Golden trio was not unobserved and it occurred to some of the sharper minds of the room that if they wanted a quick summary of what exactly was required to prevail in the Cup they could ask their resident walking, talking encyclopaedia. Just as Ginny had finally reached the three a shrill voice that could readily be identified as being owned by Colin Creevey cut across the room.
"So what exactly is this Towers Cup?"
The question that had been forefront in everyone's minds now hung spoken in the air and a multitude of eyes turned towards Hermione Granger. Conscious of her incorrigible knack of being the first to answer all the questions without waiting for others to attempt to, Hermione paused for a few moments before beginning to share what she knew with her Housemates.
"The Towers Cup was the first non-academic competition between the four houses of Hogwarts. Its exact date of commencement is not known, but it is believed to have been first held when all four founders were still resident in the school."
Encouraged by her rapt audience she continued.
"When Hogwarts was founded, as I'm sure you are all aware, the wizarding world was under attack from those who saw it as a threat to their power and an evil for mankind. The castle was constantly under attack, from muggles as well as from wizards and witches who opposed the founders. Students and Graduates of Hogwarts were particularly vulnerable once they left the school because although they had been give the finest education in the theories of magic they had not had much practical education due to lack of facilities."
Worried that she might be boring people, Hermione paused again to look at her friends. The expectant gazes prompted her to continue.
"Consequently, Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin devised a competition which involved students designing and aiding with new defences for the living quarters of the castle. They hoped that by encouraging students to work together and innovate they would be better equipped to deal with the realities outside the walls of Hogwarts and have a greater chance of survival.
Initially, there were not any rules as to the deadliness of the defences, and at the end of the school year a team would be selected from each house to try and challenge and break the defences of the other towers.
Each towers defence would be assessed by the Headmaster at the end of each month and provisional rankings would be given so that each House could see where they stood. Points would be awarded during this time for effective or unusual ideas and their development, but nothing final was decided until the last week of term when a series of pretend attacks would be staged without warning on each tower.
A couple of years into the competition a rule was added that the strongest and weakest houses, as ranked in the penultimate month, would band together as an assault team against the other two houses and vice versa. This ensured that all the Houses would work together over time and share their knowledge.
In the first fifty years of the games over one hundred students lost their lives."
An audible gulp was heard from Neville. His hand gripped tightly onto a shelf for support.
"But Dumbledore said that it wouldn't be deadly."
Neville tore his widened eyes from Hermione to Ginny, who had pointed out this key fact, before switching them back again to Hermione as if asking her to confirm that this was the truth.
"You're right Ginny, but I rather think that what he's planning is that the Heads of Houses charm and ward the defences so that for the purposes of the testing and assault they don't hurt anyone, but that after that they could be used if needed. I think this is his way for preparing us for war."
The mood in the room turned sombre, some of the younger students looked hopefully at Harry, as if they expected him to begin making Churchill-like war speeches. They were disappointed; Harry merely hardened his face removing all trace of emotion from it. Hermione chewed her bottom lip nervously, she had not meant to voice her concerns about Dumbledore's other motives for this competition, especially not in front of Harry, he had far too much on his plate to add this dish of troubles to it.
Luckily before too much time had elapsed Neville stepped in to broach the silence.
"Shouldn't we get to the Library and get all the info that we can on what they made in previous years before everyone else? At least then we'll know what sort of level of ingeniousness we'll have to match. Not that I'm worried, but what with Fred and George gone we've got a bit of a hole in our inventiveness arsenal."
"Good idea!" Hermione thankfully grabbed onto Neville's statement. "Let's get down there now; if we're quick we'll beat the Ravenclaws to the more obscure copies of Hogwarts history."
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Meanwhile, already in the Library, Crabbe and Draco had various copies of Ancient spells, diaries and Hogwarts History books around them on a wide teak table. Crabbe had been sucking on his quill so hard in concentration that he had managed to draw up the dark black ink from its nib, developing a stain at the corner of his mouth in the process, making him look like a grotesque clown. The books open around him were strewn haphazard pushed nearer or further depending on what piece of information happened to catch his eye as he threw his glance across the pages. With an intervening seat space between them, he sat side by side with Draco.
The piles of books in front of Draco were neatly stacked into two piles. Only one was open, which rested to the left above his parchment. Whereas Crabbe appeared to be reading seventeen books simultaneously Draco was more methodical, scanning the index for entries of interest before viewing those which seemed relevant and making notes. They worked in companiable silence. An infrequent grunt from Crabbe indicated that he had found something he was unsure of which he passed to Draco for judgement.
Both Draco and Crabbe started as the old doors to the library swung open with a crash. Madam Pince moved hurriedly over to the entrance to find the cause of the commotion. She was greeted with a chorus of "Sorry!" from the crowd of Gryffindors that had walked in. Crabbe made a sweeping movement with his stocky arms and gathered up the books surrounding him, moving to leave the table. He was stayed by Draco's hand on his arm. Reluctantly he sat back down and waited for the Gryffindors to spot them.
Set on finding the books that they needed the Gryffindors dispersed into the lines of shelves and began their search in earnest. It was not long before raised voices could be heard around the central library chamber.
"Where is it? I know I read the list right, it should be on this shelf."
"How can all four copies have gone?? Are you sure we're in the right section?"
Again Madam Pince found herself having to go and quieten the extremely noisy Gryffindors. Draco smirked in his seat as he heard the litany of complaints and questions the librarian was being bombarded with. He stiffened as he heard her tell the students to look on the tables for the missing books. Nudging Crabbe, they resumed their diligent note-taking apparently ignorant of the fluster occurring around them.
It was simple to deduce that they had been spotted. The atmosphere in the library changed suddenly from that of scholarly serenity to something colder and decidedly less friendly. The tiny milk-white hairs on the back of his neck began to raise themselves, a sign of the impending confrontation. The murmuring of the Gryffindor group ceased as they realised that the two Slytherins had what they were looking for.
Madam Pince looked between the two groups and mentally began to play out various worst-case scenarios and methods of ensuring the safety of her books. Being a believer in letting house feuds run their course she retreated from the scene keeping a beady eye on the more valuable texts.
"Give us those books Malfoy."
Short, to the point and said none too nicely, Ron Weasley strode to stand threateningly behind Draco Malfoy who chose to ignore him. Seeing that this was hardly going to achieve the result they wanted, his sister tried a different tack.
"Vincent, would you mind if I looked at some of the books you're not using at the moment?"
So saying and ignoring the sharp hiss from Harry and her other Housemates, Ginny sat herself in the space between Draco and Crabbe, surprising those two as well as herself with her move. Thrown off-balance Crabbe panicked and made a wild attempt to flee contact with her, upsetting the seats, unintentionally causing Ginny to fall to the floor. Before Draco could even launch into a nasty comment he found himself dodging a hex which, having missed its intended target, proceeded to imbed itself into the table causing several splinters to fly out.
Precisely at this moment Blaize Zabini and Pansy Parkinson ambled into the library. Everybody froze for an instant before Crabbe launched himself bodily at Ron knocking him onto the floor next to his sister. All hell broke loose; curses of every description from the inane tickling curse to the considerably more painful heaving hex flew in all directions ricocheting off shelves, lamps and the walls.
Realising that her library was in danger of being reduced to rubble Madam Pince speedily exited the scene in search of help, having first muttered a number of protective spells over the shelves.
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Some way away Minerva McGonagall paced a small circuit in her office practising her lines under her breath.
"I believe they say in the Muggle world that talking to oneself is the first sign of madness."
The smooth voice of Severus Snape made her jump. She brought her hand to her chest to show the shock that he had given her and waved him in from the door indicating a chair by her desk. Severus raised an eyebrow. She responded in kind with a sarcastic smile. Their eyes drifted to the antique time-teller on her mantelpiece as its slender arms moved to indicate the meeting hour. Just as she was about to purse her lips in disapproval of the witch's tardiness, Augusta materialised in the doorway. Nodding to Severus she seated herself in the other vacant chair by the desk and calmly waited for Minerva to proceed noting the uncharacteristic nervousness of the older woman.
"Right… well… I'm sure that you are interested as to what position Slytherin is currently lying in for the Towers Cup."
Minerva paused, looking for some reaction from her blank faced colleagues, she was disappointed. Taking a deep breath she rapidly continued.
"It has been judged that at present Slytherin Tower is the weakest."
Minerva had been expecting fireworks at this and she braced herself for the explosion she was sure was coming. To her amazement neither of the two reacted. They rose as one and courteously left her office but not before she had caught a glimpse of white-hot barely suppressed fury in their eyes. If Minerva had been a wreck before telling them the news, she was now close to hysterical. She knew first-hand that both Severus and Augusta were not to be crossed when it came to Slytherin pride.
The next couple of months would be murder.
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Author's notes:
I'm not sure if Blaize is a boy or a girl in HP world, I remember reading a fic where (s)he was a girl but for my purposes he's a boy. This chapter was a bit slow on happenings, but never fear the pace shall most definitely pick up next chapter, various vendettas are to be played out (cackles evilly and twirls around on her author's chair).
Reviews as ever, are very, very, very welcome (do I come across as needy?) Please click on the little button below, it likes to clicked, really, it's often told me so!