As it happened, the Carlisles opted to sit in the student section, but they chose to sit with Amber, who was sitting with a dozen or so other First Years.
There is something about a Quidditch game that simultaneously brings out the best and the worst in a group of people who are naturally competitive. The Slytherins, normally so prone to bickering among themselves and trying to undermine each other, had a rare ability to meld together and present a unified front for a match. The Seventh Years, who normally had nothing to do with the First Years, were mingled in among everyone, and the upper rows of the stands were abandoned as all the students pressed into the first and second rows, practically on top of each other, as they cheered on their team. And Severus, normally so restrained and reserved, was standing precisely in the center of the first row, his voice adding to the collective cheers when Slytherin scored and groans when Ravenclaw put a Quaffle through the hoops.
By and large, Slytherin scored much more often than it was scored against. Slytherin, in fact, was consistently the highest scoring of the four Houses, though in recent years, Gryffindor had moved ahead in actual wins, due to Potter's phenomenal success as a seeker. It was thanks to Slytherin's consistency in scoring ninety and a hundred points in a game, though, that kept them as one of the two real contenders for the House Cup. This year, Gryffindor was unbeaten, and had collected 690 points, and was finished for the year. Slytherin, in two games, had 420 points, which meant that they needed 280 points to win the House Cup (no one seriously believed that Ravenclaw could rally enough to contend for the cup). That was a number that would have been unreasonably high for any team except Slytherin. Severus had spoken with the team earlier in the day, and spirits were high—it was going to be a game won one goal at a time, and they needed to hold off on capturing the Snitch until they had scored thirteen goals before Malfoy caught the Snitch. And that meant that they needed to prevent the Ravenclaws from catching the Snitch as well.
Despite the general consensus among students that Slytherins played dirty, Severus doubted any of his team would even consider playing outside the rules. If they did, they would have his displeasure to contend with, and that was generally enough to keep any of them from doing anything he told them not to do. However, just because Slytherin stayed within the bounds of rules and regulations, that did not mean that their game was without cunning. Quidditch was not, as the Gryffindors seemed to believe, a game of putting Quaffles through hopes and catching the snitch as soon as possible. It was a game which allowed the savvy player a great deal of leeway in scoring points, and great opportunity for strategy. For example, there was no rule against one team's beaters hitting Bludgers towards the players on other teams. Gryffindor beaters made the, in Severus' mind, crucial error of simply defending their teammates from the Bludgers, often batting them well away from the pitch. Severus saw to it that the Slytherin team used the Bludgers, and to good effect, as an offensive measure rather than simply defensive. In addition, there was no rule that the Seeker was untouchable, though the noble Gryffindors tended to have their precious Potter hover along the sidelines until he saw the Snitch. Malfoy, by contrast, would be functioning as a third Chaser in this game, and Crabbe had as his primary assignment to stay in the Ravenclaw Seeker's way as much as humanly possible. Try to remove her from play, in fact. Not to hurt her, though injuries were common, even in tame matches.
It was a sound strategy. Thirteen goals, catch the Snitch, win the Cup. Get in Cho's way and keep her from the snitch until the thirteen goals had been scored and Malfoy had the snitch in his sights. Give the team a strong enough buffer that Crabbe and Goyle could screen Malfoy while he chased the Snitch, even if that meant sacrificing a goal (Slytherin was, aside from being the highest scoring of the four houses, the least scored-against House. Severus had a strong case with McGonagall when he was arguing that Slytherin was the better team.)
An hour into the game, the plan was going perfectly. Slytherin was up 70-20 over Ravenclaw, and one of those seven goals had come from Malfoy's hands. Crabbe had shoved Cho away from the Snitch twice. The student body was in an uproar, demanding that Hooch call the game more 'fairly', though all the teachers knew that Slytherin was well inside the rules with their playing. It was ruthless, and it was obvious that the emerald-robed players were not only out for a win, but they were out for a spectacular upset. They were out to slaughter.
A flittering of gold caught Severus' eye, and he held his breath as the Snitch suddenly soared directly in front of the Slytherin box. A moment later, Cho seemed to notice the fluttering ball, and she made a lurching dive towards it, her broom cutting right, then left, then right again as she outmaneuvered Crabbe. Crabbe, however, had the speed of his Nimbus 2001 on his side, and a moment later was on Cho's tail, his own broomstick maneuvering nothing to sneeze at. A ripple of a cheer began in the Ravenclaw section as Cho closed in on the Snitch, though the ripple was drowned out by the roar as Slytherin scored another goal (80-20, Slytherin!) Crabbe suddenly dropped and cut in front of Cho, coming up so quickly that she was forced to either veer off to the side or fly into the boy who was, in essence, a brick wall. By the time she regained her flying space, the Snitch had flitted again, and another cheer rose from the Slytherins as their game continued.
Cho whipped past the Slytherin stands, and a hissing rose from the green-clad Slytherins, following the Seeker until she took up post elsewhere, across the field. Crabbe was darting back and forth in front of her, thwarting most of her attempts to do much more than simply sit atop her broom. It was a very effective strategy—shut down the other team's Seeker. The brooms suddenly whipped around, and, a moment later, another roaring cheer rose from the Slytherin section as once again the Quaffle was delivered through one of the golden hoops. They needed four more goals, and then the Snitch, and the game would be over for them, the cup theirs.
Ravenclaw called a time out, and the two teams hit the pitch while the students took the moment to sit and relax, stretching and resting their abused vocal cords. Severus watched as the Ravenclaw captain spoke animatedly, waving his hands wildly and pointing at various team members. The Slytherin team was leaning against the wall of the staff box, chatting idly, it seemed, though there was a focus in Malfoy's eyes that made Severus think there was more plotting going on. Good show, Malfoy, Severus thought.
"Professor?" A small voice belonging to a small, familiar girl piped up from his left elbow, and Severus looked down to see Amber.
"Enjoying the game, Miss Carlisle?" he asked, and she grinned, her head bobbing in an excited nod.
"What do you think the Ravenclaws are planning?" she asked, and he smiled a bit.
"I'm sure I don't know," he replied, "but I'm also sure it doesn't matter. There's nothing they will do to take our victory, am I right?" This last was spoken to half a dozen of the nearest students, and they responded with a loud, but incoherent cheer. Severus turned back to Amber, and then looked around. "Where are your parents?" he asked in a softer tone.
She frowned slightly. "I don't think they like Quidditch. Mum said something about a Venus-Mars aspect they wanted to observe from the Astronomy Tower, though. I didn't know mum and dad were into Astronomy."
To his credit, Severus managed to keep a straight face. "You might find it odd what people find interesting," he commented neutrally.
Hooch blew her whistle again, and the players resumed their positions, and the student spectators theirs, and the game was off again. Malfoy took up the Quaffle, and then passed it to another of the chasers, who passed it back. They snaked up the pitch, towards the goals, and suddenly Cho darted forward. Severus narrowed his eyes, sweeping the air for a flash of gold, but found none. The Slytherins were cheering, though, as Crabbe darted forward on Cho's tail, and then overtook her, weaving back and forth, generally hindering her movements. And, as it happened, hindering the chasers as well, and the Slytherins were forced to hold back as Cho dove and wove in front of the hoops. After a moment, Severus frowned.
"What are they doing, Professor?" Amber asked, her voice barely a squeak above the roar of the crowd.
Severus snorted. "Trying to turn the tables, I'd say," he replied derisively, silently willing Crabbe to realize that there was no Snitch. Crabbe did not realize it, though, and suddenly Ravenclaw had the Quaffle, and the play swept up the field the other way. There was a collective hiss and groan as Ravenclaw scored an unchallenged goal.
Malfoy rallied the team, though, and a moment later they recovered the goal, despite the efforts of Cho, who attempted her trick again. Crabbe had picked up her deception, though (or, more likely had had it pointed out to him by one of his teammates) and made it a point to hinder her away from play. As though in payment for the humiliation of being tricked, Slytherin scored twice more in short order, bringing the score up to 110-30. Severus could almost taste the victory already when Ravenclaw suddenly rallied, scoring three times in quick succession. Slytherin had recovered one of those goals when there was suddenly a flutter of gold again, and Cho made a quick dart forward. Crabbe followed her as she wove in and out, up and down, turning loops and making tight spirals that would have been impressive even if she wasn't chasing the Snitch.
Goyle, seeing that Crabbe was having a hard time catching up to the Ravenclaw Seeker, abandoned his position and came to help interfere with Cho's ability to move. With the two Slytherin Beaters so intently focused on Cho, there was no one left to notice that a pair of Ravenclaw Chasers had cut away and were off as well. Half the Slytherin spectators groaned in unison as they realized what was going on—once more, the Slytherin team had been outsmarted by the Ravenclaws; Cho was only a diversion, it would be one of the Chasers who caught the Snitch at this rate. Severus sighed, looking longingly at the scoreboard. It was 120-60, and Slytherin needed one more goal, and needed to catch the Snitch if they were to win, but it looked hopeless suddenly. Hopeless, at least, until Malfoy suddenly passed the Quaffle to Bole and then darted towards the Snitch himself.
Malfoy, despite sneers from other teams that he had bought his way onto the team, was an excellent flier and not a bad Seeker, though Severus would have been fooling himself to pretend that the Seeker position was not the weakest point on the Slytherin team. Luckily, though, Malfoy was competing against Chasers for possession of the Snitch, not against the Ravenclaw Seeker, and Malfoy was far more familiar with the idiosyncrasies of the tiny ball, so that when the two Chasers dove forward, closing in on it, Malfoy hung back for a moment. Sure enough, the ball swerved sharply to the left, and Malfoy was on it, glancing frantically at the three hoops. He seemed to know the same thing everyone in the stands knew—the Ravenclaws were not going to be diverted from the Snitch this time. This game was about to end, one way or the other.
Malfoy made a sudden lurch, and just as his fingers clutched the Snitch, there was a roar from the stands. Bole had scored a goal, almost simultaneously with Malfoy's catching the Snitch. Slytherin had won the game, that much was sure, though everyone was holding their breath. The 150 points from Malfoy's catch had already been added, bringing the score to 270-60, and Hooch was now at the scoreboard, bent over it.
"No goal! No goal! No goal!" The Gryffindors had taken up a chant, and slowly, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were joining.
"Goal! Goal! Goal!" Slytherin was responding in kind, and student voices were swelling through the pitch. Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw captain, was at Hooch's side now, gesturing madly again, and Malfoy was striding confidently over as well, and Severus could tell that he was taking up the Slytherin position. The chanting grew louder and louder, and Hooch, looking increasingly harassed, glanced up at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore stood, holding up a hand, and then spoke, his voice echoing through the pitch and quieting the students. "Seeing as the question of this goal will decide the winner of the House Cup," he announced, sounding as infinitely wise as he ever did, "I do not think it fair to anyone that an arbitrary decision be made. A round of overtime is in order, I believe. If Slytherin scores first, the goal will count. If Ravenclaw scores first, it will not."
Hooch nodded and blew her whistle sharply. "Positions, everyone!" she yelled, the Quaffle tucked under her arm as she strode back to the middle of the field. The Bludgers, which had only just been caught, were up again, though the Snitch was still packed away firmly. The two teams formed their circle on either side of Hooch, and suddenly the Quaffle was in the air again, the two teams kicking off.
Malfoy caught the Quaffle, and passed it towards Bole, but it was intercepted, and it was only through a spectacular save by the Slytherin Keeper that they were still in the game. The players soared back down the field, but another spectacular save, this time for Ravenclaw, turned the tide again. A save by Slytherin; a save by Ravenclaw. Another save by Slytherin, and another by Ravenclaw. Again and again, and the game stretched on another half hour before Malfoy suddenly retrieved the Quaffle and made a dive, drawing the Ravenclaw Keeper to the far hoop. As he did, Crabbe and Goyle moved in, and Malfoy passed the Quaffle back to Bole. The Ravenclaw Keeper was unable to move past the Slytherin Beaters, and Bole hurled the Quaffle through the hoops. A cheer erupted from the Slytherin stands, and the final ten points were added to Slytherin's score. It was 280-60, and Slytherin had won the cup. Severus' hands were in the air as high as any of the students' were, and, from across the pitch, he caught Minerva's eye.
She was shaking her head, but clapping, and there was a half a smile on her face. He could see her lips moving, and thought she had told him 'Good game.' Which it was. He would have to think long and hard to find something to complement about the Gryffindor efforts this year.
Down on the pitch, the entire Slytherin population, it seemed, had gathered about the team and hoisted them into the air, and Severus noted with some satisfaction the look of pride on Malfoy's face at being so obviously worshipped by the students. None of the others were any different, of course, but Malfoy always caught Severus' eye. He looked so like his father had at that age, though he hadn't quite the silky smooth presence that Lucius had possessed even as a student. Draco Malfoy thrived off praise, and Severus had been trying for six years to see that the fair-haired boy got it while he was at Hogwarts. He didn't know whether his efforts had been wasted or not, but he could still find reason to hope that when the time came for Draco to choose between following in his father's footsteps and setting his own course, that he would choose the latter. A difficult choice to influence, though, when Severus had to maintain appearances on so many different levels.
After a moment of observing the impromptu celebration, Severus slipped down to the pitch, but before he reached the throng of students, he was intercepted by Minerva. "That was quite an impressive game, Severus," she told him in a voice that was obviously resigned to graciousness.
"I wouldn't feel too bad, Minerva," he told her, his lips curling into a smirk. "Your team performed quite admirably this year. Perhaps, though, if Potter would learn the fine art of not ending the game before your Chasers have the chance to score any goals…"
"Don't start on Harry just now, Severus."
He shrugged. "I was merely saying that if there was less a drive to play the hero and more a commitment to the success of the team, that the Gryffindor team would prove all but unstoppable," he replied placatingly.
"And what makes you think I'd take advice from a rival?" Minerva asked, lifting an eyebrow, and Severus smiled.
"Simple, my dear. I know that telling a Gryffindor not to play the hero is tantamount to telling the tides not to come in. Now, if you will excuse me, Minerva, I have a celebration to join." He bowed shallowly to her, and slipped off, a spring in his step that hadn't been there for quite some time.
When he reached the cluster of students on the pitch, Severus lifted his hands for their attention, and the clamor died down slowly as eyes turned to the Head of Slytherin who had an unusual smile on his face. Even the Slytherins did not often see him smiling very often. "I believe," he said, his voice carrying a silken softness despite being raised to a volume that was audible to the entire assembled crowd, "that a celebration is in order. If everyone will be so good as to return to the Slytherin Common room…"
The students let out another cheer, and there was a rush of Slytherins back towards the castle, carrying the Quidditch team on their shoulders as they cheered and jeered their way back to the common room. Severus stopped in the kitchens before joining them, instructing the House Elves to see to it that the students had butterbeer, pumpkin punch and sweets for the rest of the evening, and ordering a selection of more civilized fare be sent to his personal sitting room in an hour's time.
By the time he made his way into the Slytherin Common Room, the celebration was at full tilt, with students and parents and teachers joining in. Certain teachers were, of course, conspicuously absent, but that didn't matter. In fact, most of the students seemed to wish all the adults would leave, all together. A wish Severus had every intention of granting in reasonably short order.
"Well done, Snape! Another stunning victory for Slytherin!" Phillipa Parkinson, Pansy Parkinson's mother, had lifted a glass of wine to him as he stepped into the room, and Severus shook his head firmly.
"The praise belongs to the students, Philipa, not to me." He pressed through the crowd of students to where the adults were gathered in one corner of the room, and accepted a glass of an excellent vintage of Merlot from Lucius' hand. Severus had never known Lucius not to have wine at his disposal.
"Ah, but you can't tell us that you had nothing to do with that strategy, Severus," offered Victor Nott, one of the Death Eaters. One of the many present this evening. Severus felt his elation dampening.
"I wouldn't dream of taking such a victory away from young Malfoy," Severus replied, and it was entirely truthful and barely half honest. Severus had spent many an afternoon watching Quidditch games with Draco, commenting on what he found effective and ineffective strategies, and, as he'd suspected, most of the strategies he speculated would be interesting or which he praised worked their way into the Slytherin team's repertoire.
"Regardless," Lucius said, moving to slide an arm companionably about Severus' shoulders and lifting his glass into the air, "it is worthy of celebration that the cup is being returned to its rightful place in Slytherin hands. May it never again be defiled by Gryffindor filth."
There was a twitter of laughter, and half a dozen glasses shoved into the air. "Here here!"
The portrait hole opened again, and heads turned towards it as a House Elf skittered inside, depositing her tray of cakes and truffles on a table before making a mad dash towards Severus and coming to a frenzied halt. "There is being the Carlisles outside the door, Master Severus," she squeaked, "should Lissy be letting them in?"
"Certainly!" Severus replied, and Lissy skittered away. "More parents," Severus explained in answer to the unspoken questions from the others.
"Ah, but of course." Lucius took a sip of his wine, and all the adults' eyes were trained on the door when the Carlisles stepped into the room. Severus lifted a hand to draw their attention, but they took their time, all the same. Matthew had the look of a man who was quite obviously in a place for the first time, and the scrutinizing looks he was casting about the Common Room made Severus wonder if the room lived up to his expectations. Elizabeth Carlisle, by contrast, had a look of nostalgia planted firmly on her features, and the familiar way she ran her fingers over the back of one of the sofas made Severus wonder what memories she was reliving.
All conversation among the adults had slowed while the two newcomers made their way to the gathering, and when they arrived, Severus gestured for them to come closer. "Ah, I'm glad to see you found your way back down. This is Matthew and Elizabeth Carlisle," he indicated each of them, though it was fairly obvious which was Matthew and which Elizabeth. "Mr. and Mrs. Carlisle, these are the other parents. And I'll not make you suffer through a tedious list of introductions just now," he said with as gracious a smile as he could summon.
Lucius was, as so often, the first to step forward. "Mr. Carlisle, Mrs. Carlisle," he said to each of them in turn. "Lucius Malfoy, and my wife Narcissa. Our son, Draco, is the captain of the team, and the team Seeker," he explained. "Which of the students is your protégé?"
Severus noted that Matthew had resumed a certain degree of formality as he took Lucius' hand, but Elizabeth seemed quite in her element. "This has been our Amber's first year," she replied, nodding towards the group of First Year girls.
"Really," Lucius replied with a look of vague interest on his aristocratic features. "You'll pardon my saying so, but I was expecting you to name one of the older students."
Matthew's smile was tight. "Amber is our youngest," he replied stiffly, and Severus willed him to relax. Where was the charming, sociable man who'd been in his office a few hours before? It would be ideal if that man would make an appearance quickly.
"Yes, yes, I know," Elizabeth said, laughing suddenly. "We're far too old to have an eleven year old daughter, but it is a decision we have never regretted."
"No, dear," Narcissa said with a detached friendliness. "You're not too old at all. I rather doubt you're any older than the Weasleys are, after all."
"Weasleys…" Elizabeth frowned slightly. "I don't think…"
"You're too young to remember Arthur Weasley," Matthew commented. "He was a Third Year when I started Hogwarts, so I suppose he'd already graduated when you came. And Molly…" this time, Matthew was frowning as well. "Molly Melksin?" he asked, looking at Narcissa, who nodded, looking bored.
"Oh, of course I remember Molly," Elizabeth replied. "Then I presume they have children?"
There was a rumble of genuine laughter and Lucius suddenly placed a glass of wine in Elizabeth's hand, then moved towards her, draping an arm about her shoulder. "The Weasleys seem to be on a mission to single-handedly populate the entire wizarding community with red-haired brats. How many do they have, anyway," he looked in the general direction of the others. "Five? Six?"
"Seven," Severus answered promptly. "Ron is a Sixth Year, Ginny a Fifth Year, and in two more years I stand a chance to have an entire year at Hogwarts with no Weasleys in any of my classes."
There was more laughter and Lucius handed a glass of wine to Matthew as well. "Quite shameful, really. And their home, if you can call it that! Merlin's beard, if you're going to have that many children, there should be a minimum income requirement."
"Precisely," Mariana Davis piped in suddenly. "It is positively criminal. I have petitioned with the Ministry no fewer than ten times to have some of those children removed from their custody, but the Ministry really drags its feet about such things."
"Mariana has a heart as big as a mountain," Lucius confided to Matthew, "but unfortunately, the Ministry has other things to worry about just now."
"Hmph. It isn't 'just now' that I was so concerned. After the fourth child was born, the Ministry should have done something."
"There, there, my dear, have some more wine. What would the world be like without the Weasleys? Why, we wouldn't have anyone to point out for a children and say 'see, son, that is what you don't want to happen, so you'd best pay attention in your classes!'"
There was another ripple of laughter, but Severus' contribution to it was half-hearted at best. He had come to have a great respect for the Weasleys, particularly for Arthur and Molly, and it chafed that he could not endanger his position by defending them.
"Ah, well," Lucius shrugged, draining his wine glass, which promptly refilled itself, while looking at Elizabeth. "You look quite familiar to me, my dear. Were we, perhaps, classmates?"
"Housemates," she answered promptly. "I believe I was a Sixth Year when you were sorted into Slytherin, so I hardly expected you would remember me. Though I could hardly forget you. Silky little bastard who never got caught," this last was said with enough of a smile that a roar of laughter erupted from the men in the group who were Lucius' closest friends, and the man in question took it with considerable grace, bowing ostentatiously.
"Indeed, Mrs. Carlisle," he quipped. "What good is causing havoc if one has to pay for it?"
Even Severus found himself laughing at that one. A genuine laugh, and for a moment, he began to forget everything that had happened in the last twenty-odd years. They were simply old classmates, bound together by a serpent, who shared memories of Hogwarts and each other. Even if Hogwarts was not full of fond memories for Severus, the best memories he had were attached to these walls. He sipped the wine again, and felt a wave of nostalgia sweeping over him. "Perhaps," he suggested in his signature soft tone, causing eyes to swivel to him, "we should continue in my sitting room. Leave the children to their merriment without our interference."
"An excellent suggestion, Severus! I knew there was a reason we loved you as Head of Slytherin!"
Quite aside from leaving the students to their celebration, Severus had the distinct impression that it would be prudent to separate adults from children before the adults' never-empty wine glasses brought about a state of inebriation. As he took a large drink from his own glass and watched the level of liquid slowly rise again, Severus wondered if the charm was brilliant or horrifying. Without ever seeing the bottom of a glass, it was difficult to gauge how much one had drunk. Which could be either advantageous or disadvantageous.
Before retiring to his rooms, Severus caught the students' attention. "Do try to remember that you all have classes tomorrow," he suggested. "I fear that fatigue from the celebration will not suffice as an excuse in my class, and I seriously doubt it would hold water with anyone else in the school." There was a ripple of laughter from the students, who were in far too good spirits to remember that they weren't supposed to laugh at their teachers. "Attempt to find your beds before 1, please," he told them, and though there were a few groans, they were largely protests out of principle—he had, after all, just extended their curfew by two hours. "And remember not to give anyone cause to come and put an end to the merriment earlier," he cautioned them. "I will not be pleased to hear that Professor McGonagall had to come quieten you all down. And no dueling!" With that last bit of command, he stepped out of the room and into the corridor.
Lucius clapped a hand on his back. "Still sticking to it about the rules against dueling, are you?" he asked.
Severus snorted. "If we weren't allowed the pleasure as students, they shan't be either. Come." He lifted his hand, flicking his fingers to indicate the party to follow him, and, laughing and chattering, they arrived in his rooms just in time to see a House Elf scampering off, leaving a vast array of hors d'ouvres on one of the tables.
Lucius settled himself familiarly into one of the chairs, and, after a little prompting, Narcissa sat primly in his lap. Only Narcissa Malfoy could look prim while sitting in someone's lap. "So, Matthew, was it? You look oddly familiar. Do you work at the Ministry? One of the lower level positions, perhaps."
It was a faint jab, and Severus found himself hoping that Carlisle had a job that would make Malfoy sputter on his wine. He was in luck, it seemed. "No, actually, I don't work at the Ministry, though it would be little doubt if you'd seen me there. I work for the Prophet."
"Ah," Crabbe said, filling a plate with canapés and pate. "A reported, then."
"Yes."
"Oh, stop being so modest," Elizabeth scolded. "He's the senior international political correspondent," she told them proudly, and Matthew rolled his eyes slightly.
"I'm a reported," he replied succinctly. "That is what I do, and none of the other titles matter squat, except that I get more interesting assignments now than I did when I was covering local Quidditch championships."
"International politics, hrm? Well, have a seat then, Carlisle. I can't wait to hear your views on the current issues."
It turned out to be a very interesting evening indeed, and Severus thought that by the time it ended (half past three) that the Carlisles had made three decisions. First and most importantly they would leave Amber at Hogwarts. As it happened, social advancement was, indeed, a driving factor for Mrs. Carlisle at least, and Mr. Carlisle did not seem opposed to it. Second, they seemed to decide that the Malfoys were far more receptive to a family of recent bloodline than they would have expected. Draco, of course, would not marry a girl with Muggles so recently in her ancestry, but Lucius was well-connected, and Severus could already see the wheels turning in his head. Lucius was a smart man, and Severus would eat his socks if he wasn't thinking at least three generations into the future. And finally, Matthew, it would seem, had been swayed at least partially by the lively debates being bandied around. He had begun to warm up to the Slytherin patriarchs, and they were winning an ally in him. Severus wished he dared interrupt, but he did not. He knew where the conversation was going, though. He knew that 'There need to be more stringent admission standards at Hogwarts; it is shameful that the brightest students are held back by a desire to cater to those less talented' was a small step from 'perhaps the wizarding world would benefit from years of solidification. We have expanded to the point where it is no longer necessary for us to marry into Muggle bloodlines to keep the world alive; but it seems some of our brethren have lost sight of that original—questionable—goal' to 'Of course everyone wants to further their own goals, and one cannot blame Mudbloods for fighting for their rights. But we have rights too, and ours are sealed by a precedent of centuries.'
A victory, it would seem, with a dear cost.