Another Week another chapter! Fun approaching soon! I am still hitting some major roadblocks with my fanfictions, so please Review your hearts out and grant me some motivation to push through and get more written!
Chapter Twelve
A Most Malfoy-ish Manipulation
Zhar Quelmok had thought he was prepared for their visitor to arrive when Lord Millennial had told him and Septin about the wizards of earth and their methods of travel; however, he still flinched slightly when the fireplace unexpectedly flared to life with green flames.
The man that emerged had a very pale pointed face, blond hair and grey eyes which glanced around cautiously as he stepped graciously through the fireplace into the front room, formal looking robes flowing around him and a snake headed cane in his hand. Zhar felt no Force related power in the man, but instead a magical aura similar to what Lord Veneficus possessed, and sensed an energy link to the cane, possible a weapon or tool of some sort.
As the man approached, Zhar bowed. "Lord Malfoy, my Master has been expecting you; follow me to his private study."
Lord Malfoy nodded, staring at Zhar with a calculating sort of look, and followed when Zhar held his hand out to lead the way.
Malfoy did not speak as they moved their way through the manor house, choosing to ignore Zhar completely and admire the décor around the building. The silence allowed Zhar to calculate what possibly could be the reasoning for The Sith to be working with such a man. Clearly a link to the magical world, wealthy also, if the robes were any give away. Probable political influence or some other power over others that the Sith Lords sought to exploit.
Zhar was still uncertain as to why the Lords of the Sith chose to operate on such a remote and undeveloped world. If it truly was the power that these 'wizards' possessed, why not take their knowledge and depart to worlds more advanced, like one with a decently stocked cantina…
As they bypassed the secret entrance to the underground portion of the Sith Headquarters, they passed Neophyte Jenah, the woman turning to observe them pass, and continued to her duties immediately afterward. Malfoy glanced at her as well, a thoughtful look crossing his pointed face, before reforming into a steel mask of indifference.
Zhar watched the woman's retreating form a moment longer. The three human Darksiders that served Lord Millennial in the manor were an odd bunch. They chose to keep their own company, excluding Zhar and Septin as much as possible. They also seemed to work surprising well together for Sith. The puzzle behind them was strange to say the least, but Zhar chose to keep to himself mostly anyways, so they had no disagreements.
Finally arriving at the Sith Master's study, Zhar knocked thrice, and held the door for Malfoy, bowing him inside like the servant he was portraying.
"Lord Malfoy, Master." He announced.
The blond aristocrat entered, and Zhar allowed the door to shut in front of him, pleased to be freed from the man's company. 'Since when did the power and glory of the Dark Side have anything to do with acting a servant?' Zhar thought bitterly, 'like being with the Jedi and their lies all over again.'
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Millennial watched, placidity frozen on his face, as Lucius Malfoy entered the Sith Lord's study. The blond wizard took a few moments to gaze around the study, clearly sizing up Millennial based on the material possessions he had gathered, a foolish and weak means though it was.
However, being the heir of the line of Darth Bane did allow for many objects of rather intricate appearance, and a measure of beauty, not that the Sith cared for such things. If Lord Malfoy was to see the objects and artifacts that Millennial had moved to the subterranean bunker, the impression might have been overwhelming. The room as it was, however, seemed to meet or exceed his standards regardless, and the pale eyed man strode to Millennial, offering his hand in greeting.
"Lord Blackmoore-Ravenclaw," Lucius drawled, "such a delight to meet with you again."
"Lord Malfoy," Millennial replied in the same tone, taking the offered hand in his own. If the Malfoy patriarch noted the rough calluses that Millennial sported, he gave no reaction. The blonde's hands were quite the opposite, soft and weak from never lifting much more than his unneeded walking stick. If his knowledge wasn't going to be presently useful, Millennial would heavily consider killing the fool himself.
They sat, the Sith Lord behind his desk, and Malfoy began in quiet earnest. "As you may have noticed, with the spectacle last year at Hogwarts, that fool of a Headmaster Dumbledore is not as wise or as determined when it comes to the welfare of the students of Hogwarts…" Millennial sat back, listening partially and contemplating the deeper desires and meanings behind the blonde's words.
"It has come to my attention," Lucius continued, "that things are not as up to scratch as we would like them to be at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, the other members of the board of school governors are very much in favor of Dumbledore and his muggle-loving nature, allowing the high expectations of our pure-blooded traditionalists be put aside."
"So, what is your plan to counter this," Millennial said curtly, hoping to get to the man's point before the urge to kill him just to silence the annoying man overrode his desire to manipulate him to the Sith's advantage.
Lucius simply smirked, "Well, as the heir of the Ravenclaw line, you, Lord Blackmoore, have a full and complete right to have a position on the board of governors, and naturally the Malfoys would be more than glad to accommodate another pureblood line to help manage the school…"
"If…" Millennial interrupted, "I support you in removing Dumbledore from the school and help convince the others…"
"As a beginning naturally," Malfoy continued, nodding, "You are a very powerful person right now Lord Blackmoore. A prominent pureblood Lord returned from the dead, seats on the Wizengamot and International confederation of wizards. Many are abuzz with rumors of your doings and what sides you will support in important political issues."
It was Millennial's turn to lean forward in presumed interest, "I'm listening…" wielding the Force into a calming web around the room, the Sith Master was able to have Malfoy feed every scrap of information that he was already dying to give to Millennial, in addition to background information he was supposed to already know, thus furthering the background of Lord Blackmoore-Ravenclaw in the wizarding world.
From Malfoy, Darth Millennial learned of the faulty method of wizard government, and how there were far too many who would eagerly serve for a change of leadership. Currently the only group that fulfilled that need was the Death Eater movement, who followed the fallen false lord Voldemort, and Malfoy sought to rebuild the foundation of political power and wealth to support their cause. It was somewhat similar to having the galaxy given to you on a golden charger.
So Millennial agreed to Malfoy's designs, for now, and sent requests for appointments to the various governmental agencies via owl. If the Sith were to make quick work of these wizards, the political assistance that Malfoy and his subordinates provided would be useful, at least until Millennial was ready to step fully into the light of wizarding scrutiny. But for now, secrecy and mystery were the most powerful tools that kept wizards such as Albus Dumbledore from poking in places they were not wanted.
Malfoy left sufficiently pleased, and Millennial was content to let him think himself the manipulator. When his death came, sooner rather than later, he would learn that the Sith were not a pawn in his game, but rather he theirs in the grandest game in the galaxy.
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Septin Aranis staggered out of the room that he shared with Zhar Quelmok in the strange manor house on the backwater planet know as Earth. Since leaving his Jedi-made shackles for the power of the Sith and coming to this small planet, Septin had not been capable of sleeping well, his dreams plagued by nightmares. Adding to that, there were no beings that Septin felt he could trust to confide in here, leaving the young Ex-Jedi feeling he could do nothing but bear through the trial alone.
Septin was so distracted by the most recent night terror, that he rounded a corner sharply on his way to the lower levels, and almost ran directly into another man heading toward the front entrance.
"Watch where you're going, you idiot boy," the man said coldly as he swept past Septin, who was still confused as to what was going on, let alone who was speaking to him. Zhar appeared, and the blonde man stalked away, disappearing into an antechamber off the entrance hall.
"Who?" Septin asked, still disoriented from his near collision.
"Lord Lucius Malfoy, meeting with the Master…" Zhar replied lazily, before steering Septin down another corridor and toward the secreted turbolifts to the sub levels. "Never mind him, he can see himself out. We have more important things to get on with…"
Septin sighed inwardly. The only thing he had to do it seemed was train or study, not very different from being trapped back at the Temple. It didn't help that Zhar himself was also a rather… interesting… teacher. Inexperienced with training someone, clearly, but the awareness of the fact made it more of a two way learning process. He was a more 'hands on' style of instructor, probably compensating for what Min's teachings lacked.
As the turbolift doors opened to the training floor, Septin started to walk toward the large open floor for some lightsaber drills, but Zhar called his attention to a smaller side room. "We'll be in here this lesson… Apprentice…"
That was another thing that was rather unsettling, Septin thought as he obediently followed Zhar. The middle aged man had a personal grudge against anything formal, titles especially, despising whenever anyone referred to him by his, Acolyte. It was a rare occasion that he called Septin his apprentice, and never wanted Septin to call him anything but his given name.
The young man's thoughts were interrupted the moment he entered the little room. Inside, on a small circular table, laid a Holocron. The red-black panels of the hand sized pyramid buzzed with malevolent energies, and Septin felt drawn and repulsed from it simultaneously. He kept these feelings to himself however, as any show of 'weakness' in front of Zhar would being undesired consequences, namely a spontaneous duel that lasted only until Zhar chose it to.
"This," the older human began, walking around to the far side of the table and facing Septin, "Is the Holocron of Belia Darzu, recovered by Darth Bane and supplied for our learning by Lord Millennial."
Completely alert now, Septin watched with interest as Acolyte Quelmok stroked the side of the little pyramid, causing the dark power within to activate, the gatekeeper appearing before them. Belia Darzu enjoyed changing her form constantly as she taught them both her philosophy on the Dark Side and instructed them on new way of harnising the power of the Force. The female Shi'ido constantly tested them by being intentionally distracting, often remaining in the form of a female Twi'lek, teasing them with many varied and exceedingly provocative outfits.
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Anguis awoke early the day after the Start-of-Term feast, more than anxious to return to his studies, both magical and relative to the Force. The twelve-year-old Force user was just returning to the second year's dormitory from preparing for they, and he was surprised to find that Lord Veneficus was still in bed, the curtains drawn closed around his four-poster. It was odd, Anguis thought, as Veneficus was always the first student awake in Slytherin. What was more, he wasn't the only one to notice.
Blaise Zabini, a taller Italian boy with a major superiority complex, was sitting in a high backed armchair facing the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. As Anguis emerged from the dormitory, Blaise turned to him.
"Still in there, is he?" he said bluntly.
Anguis narrowed his eyes. The one phrase declared two different ideas without words. First, that Blaise was referring to Lord Veneficus was pretty obvious, as who else was Anguis closest to among their year mates. And secondly, if he pointing out that the Sith was still in the dormitory, it could only mean that he was hoping to talk with Anguis, alone. Force senses triggering, and expanding outward, Anguis put on a thoughtful smirk and beckoned to Blaise, "Walk with me…"
Together they left the Slytherin common room, descending further into the winding tunnels of the dungeons. Anguis was silent as they walked, waiting for Zabini to make the first move. He didn't have to wait long, as it was apparent that Blaise was burning to ask his questions. "So… Potter…" he started.
"What about him?" Anguis responded, not giving any ground on who was in control of the conversation.
"Hes… not what I was led to expect." Blaise admitted after several more moments of silence.
"How's that?" Anguis asked bemusedly, folding his hands behind his back in an apparently passive position, but inwardly ready to act in an instant if any teachers happened upon them.
"He's just… I don't know… it's like he has some sort of power over everyone around him… He just knows, yet no one knows him… do you understand?" Blaise rambled.
Anguis did know, more than Zabini could even imagine, "Yes." He said flatly.
"But then, you have this awesome dark persona he projects to everyone, and then he goes and helps save a Mudblood's life, and just last night, he helps another… if he's the next Dark Lord, why does he go against everything tradition tells us that purebloods stand for?"
The Sith Acolyte just shook his head sadly. Poor fool was so close, yet so far off the mark. "If you want to know so badly Blaise, why ask me and not Lor… Harry… himself?"
Anguis cursed himself for the slip, and double so as Blaise had noticed it. "You do not call him by that name, do you Malfoy…" he narrowed his eyes, "in fact, you are about as mysterious as he is nowadays; never around during weekends or breaks, and always with Potter in corridors, meal and classes. Just where do you both sneak off to together, and what are you up to…" he tailed off at the sight of Anguis' glare.
The Darksider raised a threatening finger, "If you want answers, you had better ask Harry. If you are too afraid to, it would be wise to keep out of what doesn't concern you." And with that he turned and walked briskly away.
Blaise called after him, "What on earth could two Mudbloods remotely have to do with your 'plans'?!" But Anguis ignored him. Blaise was far too Slytherin to go running to a teacher about something like this, either he would be silenced or he would come to Lord Veneficus himself, and either way it was no longer Anguis' problem.
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The green gloomy light sparkled off the water covered a little black book. The book was clutched in the arms of a girl, lying on the ground of a spacious chamber. The fire red hair on her head was dimmed by the lack of torchlight and Veneficus could hear laughing, a high cold sound that was unnatural and foreboding. The vision shifted, and there was a tall and pale young man, fierce anger in his eyes as he glared at Veneficus. The boy hissed, a cold raspy sound that Veneficus understood instinctively, "Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!"
Veneficus opened his eyes with a confused expression, awakening from meditating on his four-poster in the Slytherin dormitory. He had had another vision, one with far more information that he could use to understand it. Parseltongue was involved, as well as Salazar Slytherin, from whom the gift came about. Finally there was the girl and her book. Veneficus recalled that Anguis had told him about a book that his father had planted on a red haired girl at Diagon.
There was much work to be done today, Veneficus determined as he rose from the bed and dressed. "Zychre, come to me…" he hissed, and the serpent crawled from a deserted corner of the bed where he had been relishing the warmth of his master.
Holding an arm for the snake to climb up, Veneficus spoke softly to it, continuing to pet the little male snake's ego, "I need you to stay with me from here on my friend. I've seen that your talents will be needed…"
If snakes could grin, then Zychre probably would have been, "I would love to be permitted to come with you, Lord Veneficus. I might finally be able to tell you the secret that I know…"
Veneficus would have pursued this secret from his familiar, but just then the door to the dormitory opened, and Zychre slithered under his shirt and out of sight. Theodore Nott entered, and halted immediately on seeing himself alone with Veneficus, before starting to back away slowly.
"Nott… just whom I was about to go looking for," Veneficus said silkily, beckoning the boy forward. He was obeyed, even though fear permeated the weedy Slytherin boy as he joined the Sith Lord. "What is it… my Lord…" he said, eyes downcast.
Veneficus used a single finger to force Nott to look him in the eyes, "I need information, and you and Boot are the perfect researchers for the job. I want every scrap of information on Salazar Slytherin and Parseltongue, from any and every source you can find, as soon as possible. Updates weekly on your findings will also please me greatly."
Nott took a quick step back, flinching a bit from the proximity he had just endured with the young Lord of the Dark Side. "As you wish… Master…" he said, before gathering some school supplies and departing.
Veneficus smiled, trust the Force to continue to be in his favor here, on this deprived world. His servants would gather all the information relative to his visions, and he would understand the meaning before the end of the school term. All that was left was for him to join Anguis in the Great Hall and start observing the red haired girl who had been placed with the black book from Anguis' father.
The air was full of excited whispers during breakfast, mainly due to the presence of Gilderoy Lockhart as the new Defense Against the Dark Art's teacher. Veneficus preferred to eat in silence as he listened, his senses heightened by the Force, to many different conversations from around the entire room. Glancing at the Gryffindor Table across the Hall, he spotted the red haired girl that he and Anguis had seen in Diagon.
Nothing out of the ordinary, just a young girl enjoying breakfast with her friend, another girl with very long and unkempt dirty-blonde hair and a very interesting aura in the Force. Not powerful, but just enough that she would have, with training, been able to manipulate the Force for short bursts of time. As the Sith Lord's power wafted unseen over the two girls, the sensitive glared in his direction, protuberant eyes flashing with fear and hostility. As quickly as it appeared however, it vanished, and she returned to chatting quietly with her friend.
Veneficus frowned. The girl may prove an annoyance in this matter if he was to be involved personally. However, he had other means of keeping eyes on the girl who possessed the book. Turning to gaze down the Slytherin table, he caught the eye of Colin Creevey, the young muggleborn that he had defended. The boy was watching him, emotions playing like a symphony in the Force. With a slight jerk of the head, Veneficus summoned the boy, who practically bounced over to him.
"All right, Harry?" he asked happily, while the nearby Slytherins frowned at his presence.
"Hello Colin," Veneficus replied, smirking at the overjoyed look on the little boy's face. "I need you to do something for me…" the Force user had to pause as Colin was about to hyperventilate from excitement at being asked to help him. After nodding exuberantly and calming slightly, Veneficus requested the young boy to merely watch the young red haired girl, and report if anything odd or unusual happened, and sent him on his way.
Many of the other Slytherins were sending confused and annoyed looks after the boy as he left, but Veneficus silenced their internal complains with a glare. His plans for the little Creevey boy were only just beginning. The potential they boy had was limited, to be sure, as he lacked the power of the Force. However, he had an easily impressionable mind, and there were buried emotions hidden behind the bubbly exterior, that given time, Veneficus would use to create a most useful servant.
If Darth Millennial's teachings had impressed his apprentice with anything, it was that the long game was far more important than any amount of short term gains. The Sith sought to rule the Galaxy, ripping it from the hands of their enemies, the Jedi and their Republic. To accomplish this, Lord Bane had set in motion a grand game of shadows and power mongering.
Lord Millennial had taught Veneficus that they needed to accelerate that plan at all costs, if they or any Sith in the next thousand year ever hoped to see the endgame. A follower as loyal as Creevey would prove to be was an indispensable resource, just as the mind of Miss Granger would be, and the same went for his supposed apprentice, Anguis. They were tools, no more or less, and once used up, they would inevitably be cast aside.
His housemates had no inklings of challenging him, and when they departed for the Charms class they had with Ravenclaw that morning, they returned to their previous inclusion of him and Anguis in their councils and childish talks. The last thing Veneficus thought before engaging his mind toward the lesson that Flitwick was presenting, was that if the wizarding world's children were so easily to manipulate and control, then how much worth was the planet to him in the long run.
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After eating a quick lunch, Hermione chose to get away of the mass of the other students, relaxing somewhat in the overcast courtyard. It was only somewhat, because she was still not alone with her thoughts, Harry Potter and his friends lounging nearby as well, among several other of the upper class students scattered around the courtyard.
She had already seen the boy again in their first Charms class right after breakfast. Gilderoy Lockhart was there also, as he had been chatting with Professor Flitwick about countercharms when their class had arrived. He had made a beeline for Harry to talk about something or another. Hermione wasn't sure what to think about the new Defence teacher. On the one hand, all his books directed to a very powerful wizard and a brilliant strategist, but on the other hand, I sounded a little too good to be true. Harry clearly was unimpressed, if his irritated expression after coming into class ten minutes late was any indication.
But time had passed, and Harry was calm again. From Hermione's position, it was a perfect opportunity to observe the black haired boy as he interacted with his friends, watching for his methods and philosophy in action. 'Or,' the traitorous part of her mind interjected, 'to simply look at Harry and how darkly handsome he is...' Hermione shook herself. Now was not the time to even consider that as an option. Sure, she had thought long and hard about what Harry had said on the train, and as much as she wouldn't admit it, he was right. She fell right into the mold he had portrayed for the world.
Therefore, as Hermione sought to break out of the mold, be unique and stand tall on her own, she was going to learn by watching how Harry had managed it in twelve short years.
She didn't have to wait long for something interesting to happen. Moments after Terry Boot appeared and started talking to Harry in hushed whispers, a loud and very annoying voice called, "Careful Boot, you don't want to get too close to slimy snakes… you might get bitten!"
Ronald Weasley was just exiting the castle, with two of the other Gryffindor boys. Terry didn't react and Harry merely smirked at the attempted goad. Hermione sighed, she had hoped for more time before anything like this happened. Frowning with anger at being effectivly ignored, Weasley switched tactics. "Or maybe Potter is giving out autographs?" he pulled out a muggle camera of all things; "Everyone line up for photos with famous Harry Potter!" he called. A few people laughed, but Hermione noticed that they were very much in the minority. The rest of the students just looked on, and it took Hermione several seconds to figure out why.
It was Harry's face. He was glaring at Weasley with a look that would wilt plant life. His eyes had even darkened, almost seeming to shift from their normal green shade. Even Weasley had hesitated, but they all were surprised when all that happened was a tiny Slytherin first year jumping up to stand between Harry and Ronald.
"You're just jealous," piped up the rather small first year.
"Jealous? Of what?" Weasley said angrily, balling his fists. "Piss off you little runt of a snake, before I teach you a lesson."
A handful of things happened at once, jets of light shot both Draco Malfoy and Harry, who had been concealing their wands just as the first year attacked. The spells hit both of Weasley's cronies, while the red head himself was beset to keep the much smaller first year off him.
"What's all this, what's all this?" said another voice, as Gilderoy Lockhart approached, his robes a brilliant turquoise that billowed gently with the breeze. The other Slytherins pulled the first year off Weasley, and were escorting him back into the castle, but Harry had remained. Lockhart zeroed in on him immediately. "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!" He tried to throw an arm around the twelve year old jovially, but Harry ducked out of the way and sidestepped him completely, as the Professor dismissed the crowd. Weasley sneered at Harry as he nursed his cut lip, but retreated as well.
Hermione saw Lockhart talking animatedly with Harry as she departed herself. But Harry was completely ignoring him, instead watching Hermione, and she could have sworn he was smirking in a 'see what I mean' type of expression. The implications left Hermione wide eyed. Not only had the boy know of her observations, but had manipulated the events to give her as much data as possible.
The first year had shown fearlessness, and through that gave him power in both allies from Harry and Draco, and freedom to act in fighting Weasley himself, despite the high probability of failure. Highly against the rules and not morally good, to be sure, but in the stance that Harry would defend, he was expressing the type of mold breaking that Hermione had sought. It was strange, but it fit perfectly, even if Hermione could yet wrap her mind around all the details.
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Colin seethed as he was led away by Malfoy and the other Slytherins. He simply loathed the red headed Gryffindor, daring to walk around like he was better than others. Well, he had shown the jumped up ponce. Colin hoped that the split lip stayed on his face for the rest of the week, but figured with magic it would be gone within the hour.
The Slytherins deposited him in a deserted classroom off the Entrance Hall, and departed, expect for Draco Malfoy, who guarded the door, looking out it into the hall from time to time. "Why…" Colin started angrily, but paused when Malfoy just smirked at him. A moment or two later he opened the door and bowed as Harry entered. The black haired boy was also smiling in a sneaky and yet cruel sort of way. "Well well, Mr. Creevey. That was a most interesting surprise out there in the courtyard."
Colin narrowed his eyes, suddenly suspicious, "Whys that?" he asked, preparing to bolt if he needed to.
Draco's eyes raised, "You honestly don't understand everything that occurred just then, do you?" he said.
"What's to understand, the Gryffindor was an arse, and I fought him over it." Colin replied, huffing in suppressed irritation.
"Yes," Harry replied, moving to sit in an abandoned chair, "And, in so doing, you both revealed some things about yourself to the majority of your house, and have been noticed even more by many of them, even becoming somewhat respected by a few."
"Oh…" Colin replied, confused, "How's that?"
Harry smirked in a elderly brother sort of way before responding, "Well, some think they've found a new method of tormenting someone they feel doesn't belong in their esteemed company, others think they've seen a darker side of a young Slytherin and will choose to keep their distance. And some…" he paused, and Colin felt a rush of impatience flare up and die away. "…and we have many questions, and have grown a small amount of respect for you."
A tiny bubble of happiness swelled deep within Colin. He had, deep down, hoped to earn respect when he came to Hogwarts, and if the great and very much different from what he anticipated Harry Potter respected him, then it was worth it.
"What sort of questions?" Colin asked before forgetting. Harry however, turned to Draco, who had shaken his head, indicating with his head that they needed to leave for classes that would start very soon.
"They can wait, for now. But to help you formulate acceptable answers, they have greatly to do with why we didn't have the pleasure of see this Colin Creevey from the start…" Harry said quickly, before he and Draco Malfoy departed, leaving Colin with his head buzzing with information and yet still very much confused.
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Veneficus glared at Marcus Flint Saturday morning, when the latter approached him in the middle of breakfast, dressed in the green and silver Quidditch robes of their team. "C'mon Potter, its time…" he said gruffly. The Sith Lord shook his head in irritation, before standing to follow the rest of the team to the pitch. Colin Creevey smiled at him as he passed, and Veneficus made a show of patting the tiny first year on the shoulder, but without looking at him or returning the smile.
Down the sloping lawns to the pitch they went, entering the changing rooms to aquire brooms. Veneficus found himself offered the same green and silver robes, with the name of 'Potter' on them. He cringed inwardly, at both the name and that he was being put back in the bulky movement impairing robes, but slipped them on regardless. He would simply get altered ones later to compensate. Grasping the black handle of the broomstick he was assigned, Veneficus followed the team out onto the pitch itself, surrounded by them in a full flanking position.
There was already a team in the air, clad in red and gold robes.
"Oh, look," Flint drawled, "looks like we've interrupted the Gryffindor's precious training time. What a pity…" the rest of the team sniggered, just as the Gryffindor's noticed their presence.
"Flint!" the red clad Gryffindor captain bellowed, swooping down to land in front of them, followed by the rest of his team. "This is our pratice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"
Marcus Flint was even larger than other boy. He had a look of pure delight on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."
"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with unbridled rage. "I booked it!"
"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'"
"You've got a new Seeker?" said Wood, distracted. "Where?"
The team parted slightly, and Veneficus walked through them to stand next to Flint. Stretching out his senses, Veneficus could feel the budding fear coursing through the Gryffindor team, and their anger. As well, he could also sense the scrutiny of Miss Granger, who had taken to silently observing him lately. 'All the better,' he thought nastily.
The Gryffindors, for all their bravado and angry sputtering, had no choice in the end, and were forced to depart the field for the Slytherins, their pride blinding them to the possibility of sharing the field and leveling the playing field, allowing both sides to know each other's tactics. Their loss however, Flint pointed out, and Veneficus couldn't agree more.
Once the last red robed adolescent departed, Flint turned to the rest of the team, "Alright you lot, funs over. Get in the air, all of you!" he barked.
The team shot from the ground like laser bolts. Veneficus mounted and, for the first time, pushed off from the ground with vigor. The rush of exhilaration was astounding as he soared upward. It was instinctive, as natural to the Sith Lord as manipulating the Force. It felt wonderful, like a sick pleasure that Veneficus had no qualms about enjoying.
Flint started shouting drills at them from his own broom, directing them through standard flying tactics, before focusing on their individual roles. The two thuggish Beaters were set to pass one of the twin iron balls between them, targeting them through the hoops at the far end of the pitch, while the two chasers and keeper worked at the near end. Flint himself worked with Veneficus, drilling him through stunt maneuvers to throw off the opposing team's seeker, represented by Flint himself, and having him chase down the snitch simultaneously.
Veneficus was sure that to a non Force user, without the benefit of being agile and honed physically by lightsaber practice, it would have found the training to be daunting, but the Sith was more than capable to meet the captain's demands for his Seeker.
When Flint ended the practice close to an hour and a half later, the large boy was grinning maliciously at Veneficus. "Professor Snape may just have made the game winning appointment for our team, Potter. He only said you might be a good flyer, but you more of a damn great flyer with moves like that."
The rest of the team smirked at him as they returned up to the castle. Miss Granger was there waiting for them, and while she said nothing directly to Veneficus, she nodded in a congratulatory way. The Slytherin's however, hissed at her. "What do you want, Mudblood?" Flint sneered at her, but was cut off by Veneficus.
"Flint! Enough… if you were as intelligent as you were cunning, you would realize the fallacy in your own words." The rest of the team was looking at him with mixed curiosity and irritation. He had gone through this in Slytherin common room the previous year, but clearly the thick headed students needed another reminder as to why they obsession with Blood Purity was meaningless.
Swamping the area with the Dark Side of the Force, Veneficus continued, "In a society where you either have a power, the ability to wield magic, or you don't, the means by which you gained it is meaningless. Power is universal. You may consider yourselves, and all pure bloods, as having an edge over others because of you money or name, but that sort of power is weak and fleeting. Money can be stolen, names tarnished. But the kind of power that matters, Miss Granger as a perfect example of her 'kind', as you say, has ample amounts. Her ability to gain knowledge makes her superior to you, when she is your age she will be leaps and bound farther than you in spell work and the dedication to continue to grow well past that point. Her growth will be exponential, and yours, with your reliance on purity of blood and material wealth, will stagnate. Your perceived strength is your weakness, so don't dare think you can speak to those who are your betters in such a manner."
Significantly cowed, the Quidditch team slumped off back to the dungeons without another word. Hermione looked shocked, but with a glint of vindictive delight in her eyes. With one solitary glance at her, Veneficus turned and departed himself for the dungeon, reacquired his normal equipment, and went straight for the upper floors, intent on getting in as much time practicing with his sabers as possible before dinner.
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