Disclaimer – JKR owns the world and all the characters from the books. I'm just building a few castles in her sandbox.
Chapter 11
As they finished eating, an older boy with shoulder-length black hair got up from the opposite end of the Slytherin table and walked down to their end.
When they looked up, he began speaking without preamble. "I'm Adrian Pucey, one of the prefects you will be reporting to. Get up and follow me."
The rest of the table was still lingering over their desserts, but Malcolm was not inclined to argue. He swallowed the last of his pudding and nodded to the others. As they rose, the older boy turned and strode out of the Great Hall. Malcolm had to walk quickly to keep up, and Perren and Tobey actually had to break into a jog to catch up. The girls lagged slightly behind – Annalise refused to travel faster than a quick walk.
Adrian led them down the stone corridor and down a wide staircase. As the air grey chill and damp, Malcolm realized they were being led into the dungeon level. After going down several twisty stone hallways, the prefect stopped in front of a blank section of wall. "Remember where you are right now," he drawled. "You don't want to get lost down here, do you?" He leered at the first year students and Malcolm restrained the urge to yawn in his face.
"The password for our common room is pureblood," he said in a low voice, emphasizing the last word. As he finished, a section of the stone wall sank inward and slid aside. The prefect led them into a large chamber that appeared to have been carved out of solid rock. It was lit by green glass lamps that hung from chains secured to the ceiling, and a massive fireplace at the far end didn't do much to improve the dank and chilly atmosphere.
The prefect gestured for them to sit at a large couch near the door. The room was empty, and Malcolm didn't understand why they weren't sitting closer to the fire. "I have a few things to go over with you lot," he said scowling. "The first thing you need to understand is about status. Things are based on seniority here, and you have none right now. The trim on your robes indicates that you are, in fact, nothing but a first year student, fresh off the Express. If a student that out-ranks you asks you a question or tells you to do something, you will do it without question. Do you understand?"
They nodded slowly. Malcolm had an uncomfortably familiar feeling as memory stirred.
"Our head of house is Professor Snape. You will obey his instructions to the letter or what he does to you will not be pretty. Anyone wearing one these badges," he held out the gold badge pinned to the front of his robes, featuring a prominent 'P', "can give you orders, even if they are in another house."
"Percy Weasley," Adrian said the name with obvious distaste, "is the Head Boy. He has a similar badge. He also has authority over you, and can dock house points. Do not give that red-haired lickspittle an excuse to penalize us for your actions. Sodding Gryffindor…" he muttered the last.
"At this point, everyone who wears your colors," he pointed to the front of Perren's robe, and they noticed that the green and silver design from the banner now appeared on the left breast of all their school robes, "out ranks you. At this time next year, the new first year students will be subject to your orders. Hopefully by that time you will have figured things out."
"Get used to sitting on this end of the room. If you are sitting closer to the fireplace and a senior student tells you to move," he pause and leaned forward, glaring, "you'd bloody well better move."
"Now," he continued straightening. "The corridor to the male dormitory is through there," he said pointing to a door in the left corner near the fireplace. "And the female dormitory is through there," he added, pointing to a door to the right of the fireplace. "You will enter the door with the number one on it, indicating your year. Attempting to enter the upperclass dormitories could have… unpleasant consequences. If those lazy house-elves have done their jobs, you should find your trunks in your proper rooms. Now, get out of here and go to your dormitories, I'm sick of looking at you."
"Sir," Malcolm said as they all stood up. Adrian just glared at him. Malcolm swallowed, this was a lot like Nigel's stories of basic training. "I have a detention tonight with Professor Hagrid. I was told to report to him after seeing to my trunk."
Adrian blinked. "And what, did you do to get a detention your first night at Hogwarts?" he hissed.
"Er, well, two of those idiots who ended up in Hufflepuff knocked Annalise out of her boat. She ended up in the water and I pulled her out. That took us over the four per boat rule and Professor Hagrid noticed and gave me a detention."
"I see," Adrian sneered, "how very Gryffindorish of you. Be glad that it happened before your sorting so it didn't cost us house points. Go report to the savage half-blood, but next time consider the consequences of your actions."
Not trusting himself to speak, Malcolm gave a sharp nod and turned on his heel. The stone door opened of its own accord as he approached it. He made a point of memorizing the underground passages he walked through to get to the staircase. As he passed the great hall, he noticed some students were still eating, while others just talked. He wasn't sure why he and his friends were being singled out and made to leave early.
A thought struck him as he trotted down the outside steps and veered toward Hagrid's hut. He wasn't sure when he'd started thinking of the people he'd met on the train as friends. I've only known them for less than a day, he thought, puzzled. On the other hand, they stood with me when that dementor showed up. But still, this is pretty sudden. Is there some magical effect that's doing this? Maybe from the Hat… since it did sort us all into the same house. Maybe that's a side-effect.
Malcolm found the idea somewhat disturbing. So much so that he ignored a far simpler explanation. He shook his head to clear it as he knocked on the door to Hagrid's hut.
The door flew open and Hagrid's wide face beamed down at him. "Good lad, the lil' feller was startin' tae-"
"Yes professor, I'm reporting for that detention you assigned me," Malcolm said loudly, in an angry tone.
Hagrid blinked and then recovered. "Yeah, that's righ'. Get yerself in her' and get tae work!" he snarled theatrically as she stepped back, leaving the door open.
No sooner had he stepped inside and closed the door than Fang was drooling all over him again. "Woof," Malcolm gasped, "gerroff me, Fang!"
In time, they got the excitable dog calmed down and Malcolm was able to make his way over to the crate. When he pulled back the wadded jumper, a small black head popped up and nudged at his hand.
"'e's a lot stronger now," Hagrid beamed. "Getting' a might bit 'ungry though." He placed a steaming mug next to Malcolm's elbow as the boy ran his fingers across the hellhound puppy's brow. He dipped a finger into the formula and started to give it to his charge. He stopped, though, and sniffed at his finger.
"You added something to this?" he asked curiously.
"Aye, a pinch of sulfur. Supposed tae be good fer 'im," Hagrid confirmed, smiling. "I'd give ye points fer noticin', but we're not in class."
"Don't worry about that," Malcolm reassured him quickly. From their reactions at dinner, he did not want his housemates finding out he was on good terms with Hagrid.
The puppy was evidently hungry, and Malcolm felt a little bad about his protracted absence from Hogwarts that day. He reminded himself that there wasn't anything else he could have done. This time, the tiny canine was much quicker to lick his finger clean of Hagrid's home-made formula. The mug was half-empty before the puppy seemed to be sated. It sat back on its haunches suddenly, letting out an audible burp.
A foul stench made Malcolm's eyes water and his eyebrows curl. He reared back, coughing. Hagrid looked over at him curiously. Malcolm waved his hand in front of his face, wondering why Hagrid didn't react to the smell. Then he noticed the man crunching into one of his home-made rock cakes and started to understand. "I think I've got a good name for him," he choked out.
"What is it?" Hagrid asked, looking up from his tea.
"How does Brimstone sound?" Malcolm asked, trying not to breathe too deeply.
"Well, I guess we canna help people keep calling them Hellhounds, can we?" Hagrid asked. He leaned over the crate. "How do ye like yer name, lil' Brimmy?" he asked the puppy.
Scene Break
It was quite late when Malcolm made it back to his dorm. He passed quite a few of his housemates in the common room, but no one seemed interested in talking to him. He did notice that the tall-backed chairs near the fireplace were all occupied. Oddly enough, Draco Malfoy and his two cohorts were occupying three of them. There's no way he's a seventh year, Malcolm mused. I think there's a bit more to the Slytherin house rules than Adrian let on.
He opened the door marked with a "1", and found a pleasant, though chilly chamber with five old-fashioned four-poster beds arranged in a rough circle. Only three were made up, and he noticed his footlocker was placed beside the bed closest to the door. A door opposite the entrance was far enough open to reveal a small bathroom. Tobey and Perren were into the other two made up beds, and both looked up as he walked in.
"That bastard kept you long enough," Tobey growled.
Malcolm shrugged. "It's okay; he was actually kind of apologetic about it. He, uh, said he had to hand out detentions for anything involving the boats, because of an accident a few years ago. We mostly sat around his table and I helped feed on of the newborn animals." He smiled. "Just don't tell our housemates he was nice to me. I don't think they like him at all." He felt a little guilty deceiving them, but what he said wasn't completely a lie.
"You can say that again," Tobey agreed. "You should have heard some of the comments they made when they got back from dinner. I think they were more worried about house points though."
Malcolm made a face. "After our wonderful Prefect's 'Welcome to Slytherin' speech, I'm just overwhelmed with concern for what they worry about."
Tobey chuckled quietly, but Perren was silent. Malcolm peered over at the boy and noticed he was writing on a piece of parchment. He looked up after a moment. "I'm writing a letter to my parents. They wanted me to owl them after I got settled in." Malcolm thought he looked less grim when they were recovering from the dementor earlier in the day.
"Are you…?" Malcolm blurted, groping for the right words. "It's not like you can get in trouble for where the hat sorted you, right?"
Perren shrugged, looking nervous. "I don't know. They say that the hat puts you where you belong… that could say something about all of us. My parents are very… well, they had a lot of problems with the Slytherins when they were attending Hogwarts." He looked around and lowered his voice. "I've overheard my dad tell stories about Lucius Malfoy and some of the things that went on here… it was pretty bad in some ways."
Malcolm noticed Tobey was looking away, pretending to look for something in his trunk, but occasionally darting glances back over his shoulder at Perren. "Well," Malcolm said carefully, "it's not like you were here back then, right?"
Perren looked down at the parchment. "I just don't want them thinking I'd be capable of that sort of thing. I… I need to get some sleep and finish this tomorrow." He tossed the parchment and his quill on his nightstand and then changed into his pajamas. Malcolm and Tobey took this as their cue as well.
In a few minutes, the lamps were extinguished and the inhabitants of the darkened room began to drift off to sleep. Malcolm's last conscious though echoed that of his friend. What have I gotten myself into here?