As the next part of the story took place, I wasn't present. Therefore I have to rely on the account I got later. Don't expect me to be objective and unbiased, I can leave that to Elen.
After having parted with me (not exactly on friendly terms, as you may remember), Nott decided that going right to the common room wouldn't be a good idea, not particularly. Riley and the gang were probably there, telling and retelling the previous encounter, and Nott didn't really care to join them. Of course, he knew there would be talk about the event in the next 37 days probably, and he couldn't escape it. He'd probably have to face different Slytherins who'd try to explain to him a thing or two about house loyalty - and the explaining would involve a few or not-so-few hexes, depending on the person. That didn't worry him too much: he was the undefeated champion of the unofficial Slytherin dueling club. What he didn't look forward to was talk.
What would be the smartest attitude for him? Apologizing was out of question, of course. He'd probably have to play cool, arrogant and dignified, as usual. Much good it did to him too... Anyway, he decided he'd leave it for later, so he turned around and started for the library. Burying himself in books did for him what tunneling does for me: it clears his mind, helps him calm down and forget, at least for the moment.
He also hoped to find Zabini - the closest thing he had to a best mate in Slytherin. As you might already know, the Slyths aren't what I'd call best friend material. Nott and Zabini had spent time together since the first year because the only alternative was hanging out with Malfoy and the gang. And who'd want to do that, I'm asking you?
As far as I understand, Zabini is a big-time nerd. But really. Even my sis doesn't spend as much time studying, I bet. He's one of the guys you don't even notice until they come out of school with the best grades in the whole year or something... However, this time Zabini wasn't in the library, and although it seemed a bit strange to Nott, he didn't give it a second thought. He stayed there the whole afternoon reading about dragons (they are a pet topic of his), and in the end Madam Pince had to practically drag him out in order to close the library.
Not everyone has my knowledge of the secret passages through Hogwarts. I bet there are at least three ways to Slytherin dormitories, not that I ever cared to look for those. However, the only way Nott knew about was going right through the common room, which he tipped was still full of butterbeer, smoke, and sixth and seventh years discussing him, most probably.
"Booooo," someone howled, as a blood covered silhouette hovered in the shadows, grinning in its best bloodcurdling manner.
Nott grinned back.
"Oh. Baron. Don't waste the sinister atmosphere, it's only me."
Bloody Baron looked disappointed for a moment, but let it go.
"The Nott child? How have you been? Is your father well?"
"Still in Azkaban," Nott said coolly, rolling his eyes in secret. It seems Bloody Baron used to ask this particular question quite often. "You heard we lost in quidditch?"
"I still fail to see the point of that over-estimated game, I must admit. But having Slytherin loose is not a good sight."
"No. But you shouldn't really worry about it any more...I've stopped." Nott has never quite understood how Baron succeeded in not picking up any teenager slang after so many years (or, more likely, centuries) spent with adolescents. "Why did you try to scare me anyway?"
"I thought it was someone else?"
"Who? Having rows with Snape again, I hear?"
"Yes. Young Severus and I have had a dispute one more time... But it's none of the students' business. No. I was looking for a mudblood child that had possibly lost its way in these dungeons of mine."
"So - you were trying to find her and scare her to death?" Nott grinned quizzically.
"More or less, my friend, more or less... But you are distracting me."
"Let me guess, Baron. Someone asked you to do it, didn't they? Who, now? Malfoy? Pucey? Riley?"
"Your last guess might be close to the truth."
"Not that I'm surprised. What happened, anyway?"
"Have you not heard?"
"I've spent the better part of my day catnapping in the library, actually." It was Nott's way. He didn't lie as such. The truth he told simply wasn't what you actually heard.
"It seems some little abomination had had a dispute with some of our boys, but escaped them somehow. I don't have the details. But I was supposed to look for her. Appalling little spy."
So they haven't mentioned me, Nott thought. That probably meant they were either too afraid of him to spread the news (but that would be too much to hope for), or that they had given a half truth to Baron. The second option seemed more likely, as well as like quite a smart move. Baron's friendliness to everyone surnamed Nott as well as to Theodore Nott Jr. in particular was a well-known fact in Slytherin. Having this in mind, Riley probably couldn't be sure about the ghost's reaction - although, Nott pondered, he probably wouldn't have been disappointed.
Now, Nott tells me that, and I quote: "Baron isn't such a bad bloke when you get to know him." You should have in mind that this was said by Theodore Nott, the guy capable of saying 'Look, there's an okay sunset out there, if you care for that kind of crap' when he actually means 'What a beautiful sunset!'. So, translated to the language of us, normal people (and don't you look at me that way!), it probably means that Baron used to be one of the people closest to him during the school years. If I fail to see how this is possible (after all, who'd like to be friends with a scary, old-fashioned ghost of a murderer? Who except a Slytherin, that is?) that is just my problem.
"Agreed," Nott answered and thought he could do with a cigarette. "Have you been through the common room lately? What's going on?"
"The resentment party is still going on, I'm afraid."
"Oh, I see. We are not celebrating the fact that we didn't win."
"Your friend Riley said it would be a pity if all that wonderful butterbeer went to waste."
"My friend Riley can stick all the butterbeer up his arse, together with his wand and Blaise's glasses. Know what, Baron? I sometimes wish I was just your average teenager. I don't even have pimples, for Gods' sake. Because I found a preventive charm in the restricted section ages ago."
"You are paying the price for brilliance, my friend."
"I'm sometimes sick to death of people here, Baron. Well, not you, obviously, and Blaise is rather okay... But the rest... I wish I could bang their heads together until they start either to bleed or actually think."
"We've had this talk before, if I recall well. Or was it your father?"
"No. It was me. Dad probably just wanted to kill everyone or something. And yeah, I know I'm repeating myself, but I just feel... rotten, that's all. Not that I want to bother you with that."
"If you let the world affect you, my friend, you might become like me. Or, for that matter, your father. And you don't want to pay the price, trust me. That's all I'll say for now."
"I'd better go now, Baron... Thanks for listening to all this crap. Will be seeing you around. I'm tired like hell. This was a... bad day."
"Sleep well and dream of gothic castles, Nott," the ghost murmured. "Because... I can't."
Before I continue with the story, I need to explain some of the background details, i.e. here are some information on the social life in Slytherin.
I've already said that, before meeting Nott and talking to him, I had thought him quite a popular student. I hadn't even been sure if he was sixth or seventh year (I was fifth) because he was friends with guys from both years. Of course, Nott probably wouldn't approve of my using the word 'friends' here. He'd explain it to you very eloquently: that it isn't friendship, more like a business partnership and such. How you can tune down your likes and dislikes in order to be with people. How you can't quite survive on your own, not in Slytherin. You might call Nott a social chameleon, really - but not to his face.
To his credit, he had never pretended he was actually close with any of the guys. All of them new - one way or another - that it wasn't a friendship they had. I'd bet some of the guys actually wanted Nott, not only for an ally, but for a pal too. He completely failed to see it, though - or so he claims. On the other hand, he also claims none of them had ever opened up to him - and I know for sure Blaise did. I mean, Luna told me and all.
Nott is a strange guy, that's all I can say. Why he does or doesn't say something is quite incomprehensible to me. It is also incomprehensible why would you hang around with a bunch of guys for six or seven years if you dislike them completely. And, more to the point, how can you hang with someone constantly for seven years without getting attached to them. But there's no point in pondering. You and I will probably never find out the truth.
Back to the story. The names of Nott's 'friends', if you chose to use that lousy term, are as follows: Blaise Zabini and Berkley Moon (who were both in seventh year, just like Nott), and Pete Derek, Jerome Riley, and Simon Ostrac (who were all in the sixth year). Berkley Moon is the one whose nose I had broken, and Riley is their ringleader, as far as I understand. Derek and Ostrac are typical cronies, I think, while Blaise isn't really a part of the gang. They push him around and he lets them. If there weren't for Nott to protect him, Blaise would have probably ended school with a serious neurosis or something.
Now, besides from the Riley-Nott gang, there is also Malfoy's gang, but you surely know about them. The two cliques politely ignore each other most of the time, although cold war isn't all that unusual state for them either. There are, of course, the girls too: Parkinson, Greengrass, Davis, that little Pucey bitch and the rest. But, as Nott nicely put it, the girls are not important.
Nott threw his hair back, stiffened his chin, lit a cigarette, and entered the common room in a brisk step. Just like he had supposed, it was smoggy, lit up by four dimmed lamps - one in each corner. The atmosphere was - well, drunken is probably the best word. He could see Tracey Davis's guitar playing by itself on the sofa, while Tracey threw up beside it. The largest crowd was in the very middle of the room. Crabbe was dancing with Millicent Bullstrode (that terrible halfblood, right?), and the view wasn't something you'd like to see before you went to sleep. Dreaming of gothic castles would be far better than this. The slow, oxen dance would have caused much more laughter had the crowd been at least half-sober. Around them, some other people were dancing.
In the late years Slytherin parties had mostly ended with one or another kind of aggression. Nott didn't want to be the first victim of it tonight, and the only way to avoid it would be to become invisible. Only, blending in with Slytherins isn't like blending in at any other place on earth. If you try to look as small and unimportant as possible, if you stick to the wall and walk the shadows... Well, the only sure thing is that you'll be noticed and picked on. Oh no, this wasn't the way to disappear in Slytherin.
"Have someone brought firewhiskey, or are we drinking air?"
Daphne Greengrass turned around, glanced at Nott uninterested and shrugged.
"I think Bernice has our bottle at the moment."
Bernice Pucey, according to Nott, is a bit slutty, but amusing. I, personally, hate her quite a bit, but that isn't so strange for me.
"Bernice, my love!" Nott shouted from the top of his lungs. "Bernice! You are my best friend! Give me a sip of whiskey!"
He fell onto his knees and howled.
No one gave him a second look, as this same thing, with small variations, was taking place on at least three other places in the room. Having taken a sip or two of whiskey, smoked three more cigarettes, danced with Tracey Davis and Astarta Higgs (at the same time), and sang a duet with Gregory Goyle of all people, Nott slipped out of the common room and began to breathe.
The only way to blend in with Slytherins is to fight for the spotlight. Everyone does that. When people are drunk, they probably won't even recognize your face from the dozen other faces that are trying to attract attention at the moment. If you try to disappear, you'll suffer. If you make a fool of yourself, you'll just be considered drunk and no one will actually notice you.
"I thought you'd come, sooner or later."
Nott's hand was holding his wand inside his pocket, firmly but with a relaxed wrist. Everything by the book. He raised his eyes and measured the group that was obviously waiting for him. Moon had obviously invited the sixth years into the seventh years' dormitory, or was pressed to do so, at least. It was possible because Malfoy's gang was still at the party.
I should have noticed Riley wasn't there, Nott thought, but discarded the thought immediately and began developing a new strategy. He's always developing half a dozen strategies in his head.
"Pretty logical, don't you think?" he said and smirked. "Since I sleep here and all that crap."
"We need to have a serious talk with you, Theo."
Riley's voice was self-assured and complacent, but the mock-friendliness of his words was in contrast with his eyes that looked tired. They flicked towards Berkley Moon for a second, probably looking for support.
"You can stick your talk up your arse, Riley, together with Blaise's glasses."
Ostrac laughed out. It was an old in-joke of theirs, and, as such, it was calculated to soften the atmosphere. The fact was, Nott didn't like fighting with his friends... (well, allies, whatever...). Not that he cared, of course. Not that he gave a damn. It was inconvenient, yes, but they could all go screw themselves with their wands. Why would it be Nott's business at all? That's what he said, at least. Do you believe him?
"Would you sit down, please?"
Riley's voice was cool and business-like, as he lit a cigarette (Blaise is going to hate it, Nott thought, He hates it when someone smokes in the dorm). Moon was already walking towards him, his hands in his pockets in a make-believe tranquility. He had always been the biggest of them, and fighting was his duty if it came to physical contact. Nott, of course, knew they weren't going to beat him up or anything - they weren't such fools. No, Berkley was there just for the effect. Riley was the judge, of course. Berkley was the guard. Ostrac and Derek were supposed to be jury, probably. And Nott, the accused... The accused didn't have right to an attorney.
Only, I won't let them play court with me. The strategy is old and it's a classic, but it won't work with me. I've used it too many times myself to fall for the trick.
If you are not sure what to do in a sticky situation, it is sometimes best to do the unexpected. It would be logical, Nott thought, to walk up to Riley and face him. Therefore he decided against it.
"Hey," he said to Ostrac, walking right past Riley and Moon as if the boys weren't there at all. First of all, Simon Ostrac looked like the friendliest face at the moment. Second, he was the least of a leadership character in the group. Phlegmatic and serene as he was, he was usually content just watching, calculating, and letting the others decide. "Ostrac. Look, I'm absolutely willing to sign the truce until morning and then you guys can crucify me - or try." He grinned. "At your own risk, of course. But at the moment, I'm too tired for such."
Not that it wasn't true, of course. He could feel the soreness of his eyes, as a consequence of too much reading as well as too much smoke at the Slytherin non-celebration. But, frankly, his exhaustion was more mental than physical. A bad day... And playing games with the Riley's gang isn't the best pastime when all you want to do is sit alone and think.
Nott's words had a momentary effect: Riley look stunned, Moon furrowed his eyebrows, obviously rewinding Nott's words in his head. They had expected him to be cool, arrogant and to threaten them, as he usually did. What looked like a certain amount of frankness from his side puzzled them for a moment, as well as the fact that he had chosen to speak to Ostrac, of all people. The other boy just blinked at him, and then turned his gaze to Riley.
Oh well, Nott thought, some of us never learn meaning of the word integrity.
Pete Derek sat right beside Ostrac, scratching his back with his wand and not looking in the least surprised. Derek was usually the voice of reason among them, as well as a peacemaker. When he dared speak up, that is. Nott describes him as an incomparable coward, among other things.
"If I may say something," Derek stammered, and flicked his eyes towards Riley. "Looks like a good idea to me. I mean, don't get me wrong, but it's late, and... and... and all that, and... Well, perhaps it would be better to just leave it for now. We are all tired and angry and... well, not fit to talk, and..."
"Oh, shut up."
That was Moon.
"No, no," Riley said and leaned back on Blaise's bed. "Let's hear what he's got to say. Why not? It's always inspiring to hear Pete speak. With his wisdom and eloquence and all."
Had Derek not interfered, the conversation might have turned in a different direction. Now they were falling in their stereotypical roles again, all of them, and the surprise Nott had counted on had worn off too shortly. Now Pete was cowed again, Riley was sarcastic to death - and back in control, and Ostrac... well, he was being Ostrac and therefore monosyllabic.
"You want to talk?" said Nott exasperatedly, still addressing Ostrac. "Fine. Let's."
He took his wand out slowly, which was followed by everyone gripping their own wands instantly and pointing them at him. Nott just arched an eyebrow, however, and put his wand on Blaise's nahtkasn, or however the word was pronounced in German. Blaise's mother was German, and for some reason the boy thought it cool to drop a German word here and there during a conversation. Only, Blaise was out, and Nott couldn't be happier about it. Blaise really didn't need to take part in this.
"I've put my wand down," he stated. "Won't you do the same?"
Riley looked at him in incomprehension for a moment, and Ostrac was obviously scanning the situation to see where the weight lay in the current power game.
"Why in seven hells would we do that?"
That was Moon, paranoid as always.
"You wanted to talk. So let's," Nott said. "I don't think we've done it ever before anyway."
Ostrac put his wand down, but not too far from his reach.
"Oh very well." Riley did the same, and the others followed. "So..."
"A moment," Nott said, pointedly turning his back to the group and looking for something in his trunk. The gang weren't used to Nott letting go of his wand, much less turning his back, unguarded and unprotected. Especially in the situation like this.
Surprise, surprise...
"Here," he said and took a sip from a largish vial in his hand. Then he passed it to Ostrac.
The boy studied the label for a moment.
"Anti-cough potion?"
"It's got almost 20 of alcohol in it. And no, it's not a poison."
To hell with Blaise, Nott thought and lit a cigarette. I'll open the window afterwards.
Ostrac passed the vial to Derek, who passed it to Riley after taking a few sips.
"So" Nott said and finally sat down on his bed, aware that he had taken control. "Here's what I wanted to tell you..."
Than began what Nott referred to as 'dormitory inferno'. For the first time in six or seven years, he tried to explain some things to them. Some of his views on the world. Some of his thoughts, opinions, judgment. His ethical code.
For their part, they talked about other things. Betrayal. House loyalty. Slytherin pride. Dirty little mudbloods. They sat there, drank the anti-cough potion, chain smoked, and - talked.
All the while, Nott had the impression they were speaking different languages.
In the end, he just stood up, took his wand, and slowly pointed it at Riley.
"There's no point," he said coolly. "We can not reach an understanding, obviously. Just as well. You guys stay away from me in the future, and I'll stay away from you. But..." and he made a significant pause, "if you ever try to hex me or otherwise harm me behind my back, you'll suffer. Remember Teddy Greengrass, Riley? He used to dorm with you in the first year. He messed with me, remember? Where is he now? Not at Hogwarts, surely. And I'm not threatening you with expulsion. I'm threatening you with something much worse. If you ever happen to think of taking any kind of vengeance on me, think again. Because, I'll track you down - after years, if need be - and you'll regret it. I may end up in Azkaban like Dad did, but you'll lose your balls. So... You know me. Don't mess with me."
Than he turned around and started spinning the wards around his bed. The charms he used, according to his words, were so advanced that only the best Aurors might break them and stay unharmed. Maybe. Of course, we all know how Nott can be boisterous when it comes to his abilities, and you can reduce what he says by half. Yet, I reckon those wards were far too advanced for any average Hogwarts student to break anyway. He could sleep in peace.
The thing was, he couldn't sleep. Oh, it wasn't the fact that he had just literally broken up with the 90 of his friends, that the six years spent together were frittered away. That the first people he had ever tried to actually talk to - openly and honestly - didn't hear a word of what he said, much less understood. Oh no, of course that wasn't why he couldn't fall asleep.
He lay awake, thinking. Thinking of his Dad, of Riley, of Blaise Zabini. Of the abomination of halfbloods. Of my sister, Elen Briggs, who had never been able to say anything else but giggle and flirt - or talk about Charms and History of Magic. And he thought about me. He never cared to tell me what exactly he thought, though.
However much he refused to admit it, his worry for Blaise was escalating too. The guy hadn't been in the library, and hadn't been there the whole afternoon. He hadn't been at the non-party either, he never was. And, a couple of hours after midnight, he still wasn't in his bed. It wasn't like Blaise, it wasn't like him at all. Even Malfoy and the gang were rolling in their drunken sleep already, and Blaise still hadn't come.
"Blaise?" he whispered hoarsely, as he heard the door open slowly. The first morning light was creeping in through the window already, as everyone had forgotten about the curtains. The dark-haired boy sneaked into the dorm, his gaze even more clueless than usually, but, strangely, his step was light, his back straight, and he didn't even turn around to see if someone was watching him. Highly unusual. He threw himself onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, grinning widely all the while.
"Blaise?"
"I've lost my glasses again," the boy whispered. "And know what, Theo? I don't give a damn!"
"Where in seven hells have you been? I was..." He stopped himself before he could say 'worried'.
"You can't believe it! I mean... it's so terrific."
"What is?"
"She is."
"You've been flying around in the small hours of the night? I've been lying here wondering where the feck you were, and you've been flying"
When Blaise said She (with a capital), he was usually referring to his broomstick.
"I've been having the best time of my life, Theo. She is the most wonderful person I have ever known. How have I failed to notice her before? I can't even explain it to myself... Theo? Have you ever met anyone who was exactly like you? I mean, in every single aspect! Every opinion, every view... She knows what I think before I even say it!"
A girl? Blaise of all people had found a girl?
"Have you ever experienced something like this, Theo?"
"Er... no."
Nott was a bit sore and jealous, although he'd never let it show. Was Blaise the first of them to shag? Not him, but Blaise? And now he didn't even listen to him, Nott.
"Who is she? I hope she's not a mudblood or something, Blaise?"
"Oh, I don't know. I never asked. I don't give a damn! For the first time in my life, I don't give a damn, and it's a terrific feeling, Theo. It's her."
Nott attempted to make himself be happy for Blaise, but didn't do quite well. He was too much burdened with his own worries, thoughts, feelings. And - he felt he needed to talk. Until then, he had been perfectly able to deal with all his problems himself. He had never asked for help or support. And now, suddenly, he just wanted to talk a little bit.
"Will you be seeing her tomorrow?"
"I'll be seeing her every day of the rest of my life. I'm going to merry her, Theo. I know I will."
Oh, Gods.
'Oh. Right. Fine. Look, I..." and then Nott stopped. It wouldn't do to bother Blaise with his own worries now, when the guy was like this. He hadn't even noticed that someone'd been smoking in the dorm. Oh, Nott's stomach was a knot all right, he wanted to jump out of his skin, leave it behind, and run like that through the corridors. But how to explain this to Blaise?
"I've had a bad day. Bad bad day, Blaise. I've never thought I'd say this, but I don't know if I want to get up tomorrow. Or ever. I..."
"Oh, I don't care, Theo. Sorry, but I can't think about that now. I want to... I want it to be tomorrow already!"
"And I wish tomorrow would never come," Nott muttered, and turned around, forcing himself to close his eyes. He didn't dream of gothic castles.