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Chapter Forty Two
Scrutinizing at Shadows
Septin leapt backward to avoid the initial charge from the Gamorrean warlord. The squat-nosed brute clearly hadn't expected his opponent to be so nimble, and ground to a halt to alter his course, squealing and snorting in anger, before clenching his fists and charging again with a scream of rage.
Normally, Septin would have tried to dodge again, or even used his Lightsaber and carve the pig to pieces, but in the mere moments he had before the animal collided with him, he realized that doing so would earn them no favors on this world. It was a challenge of strength, and a show of raw physical strength was what was needed. So, pushing the Dark Side through his muscles with the raw anger that he had in great quantities, Septin threw himself at the warlord, meeting the charge head on and punching with his mechanical arm.
The crunch of cartilage and warm explosion of blood from the snout was music to Septin's ears, even if he was thrown backward in exchange. The surrounding warriors squealed in delight and pounded their feet and arms. The two combatants circled each other, sizing their opponent up. Septin knew that the warlord was reeling slightly from the amount of strength Septin had, in spite of his smaller size.
Before long, the Gamorrean chieftain bellowed another challenge, and made a wide swipe at Septin. Dodging back, Septin spun, taking the momentum of his dodge to bring his own fist back into the warlord's face. The metal limb slammed into the small jawbone, snapping off one of the massive tusks.
The warlord stumbled back, and Septin pressed the advantage, alternating his attacks along the softer points of the porcine body. Bloodlust rushed through his mind and body, increasing the strength of his blows as time went on. The warlord squealed an angry bellow, and several of the nearest warriors leapt at Septin. He reacted instinctively, throwing them all away with a blast of the Force.
The rules of single combat broken, if they had ever applied in the first place, Septin drew his sabers, basking the assembled group in the duel red gleam. Glancing at Lady Nuhok, Septin saw that the mad Togruta was keeping the rest of the mob at bay with a frightening display of lightning.
The leader was flat on his back, porky features contorted in fear as the crimson beams danced near his face. Blood pounding in Septin's ears, he strongly desired to just kill the beast, but an important thought struck him. He needed to control his rage, not be carried away by it. There would be plenty to kill in the future, and this one had been thoroughly beaten, enough to prove his strength over the warlord, and therefore had him at his mercy.
The creature sniveled slightly as it shrank away from the deadly energy blade. "Get up, swine. You and your lot are going to help us now…" Septin said nastily, replacing his weapons on his belt. Their first blood would have to wait a little longer.
Lady Nuhok danced up toward him as the warlord shrieked at the rest of the Gamorreans, and she laughed as she approached. Placing her hands daintily on Septin shoulders, claw-like nails digging in slightly, she purred into his ear, "Well done my apprentice, this large clan will be useful to us in not only discovering and excavating the remains of the academy, but your own training as well."
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Hermione wasn't so sure what to think about the foreign students, and the real need for such a thing as the Tri-Wizard tournament. Having read several books about the other European schools, Hermione was well aware of the strict amount of secrecy that both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang possessed in relation to other wizarding countries. Britain was quite looked down upon by the rest of the wizarding communities, and there was little such events did to change the impression.
Sitting at the Ravenclaw Table for the Halloween feast, she remained as far away as possible from the French students, several of whom were complaining softly about just shy of everything to do with Scotland and Hogwarts that it would quite upset her to listen.
Dumbledore welcomed them all and commenced the feast shortly thereafter, and Hermione's irritation was subdued by the presence of food. Slowly scanning the Hall, Hermione locked eyes with Harry, as he sat at the Slytherin table. The Durmstrang lot had taken up with them, but Harry and his group were separated by a small margin not unlike herself.
The smallest of nods from the black haired boy assured her of the scheduled meeting that their little secret group would be attending after the feast and Champion selection. If anything, those projects mattered far greater to Hermione than the Tournament, especially with the great breakthroughs they had made with Draco proclaiming that he had finished a useable magic battery, and had successfully charged it and tested it on several devices that Harry had brought from the muggle world.
"Well, the Goblet of Fire is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore said, standing as the feast winded down. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber…" he indicated the door behind the staff table that led to the trophy room, "…where they will be receiving their first instructions."
With that, the Headmaster took out his wand and dimmed all lights in the Hall except for the Goblet of Fire, plunging them all into a state of semidarkness. The flame within the goblet suddenly flared red, launching sparks into the air. Next moment, a tongue of fire shot into the air, spitting a scorched piece of parchment into the air and began fluttering to the ground. Dumbledore caught it swiftly and held it out at arm's length. "The champion for Durmstrang," he read strongly, "will be Viktor Krum!"
Hermione watched with a bored expression as the international Quidditch star rose from the Slytherin table amid the cheers and applause of the other students. Karkaroff was the loudest of all, his voice booming out praise even over the clamor of the hall.
After Krum disappeared into the trophy room, and the clapping and chatting in the hall died away, everyone returned their attention to the Goblet of Fire, which had turned red once again. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, which Dumbledore snatched out of the air deftly.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," he said, scanning the parchment, "is Fleur Delacour!"
A girl with silvery blond hair rose from a gaggle of French girls near the end of the Ravenclaw table, and Hermione was pleased to note how disappointed the rest of the students from that school were. Perhaps most of them would leave now that the selection had been made.
Silence fell again as Fleur disappeared after Krum, and the Goblet's changing of color silenced the crowd. A third parchment spewed forth, and Dumbledore pulled it from the tongue of flame that had expelled it from the Goblet.
"The Hogwarts champion is…" he said, before reading the parchment and falling deftly still. The Hall muttered at the delay for a few moments, before Dumbledore cleared his throat carefully, "…Harry Potter…"
Hermione gasped despite herself. Most of the students in the hall were turning to face the Slytherin table where the boy sat, emotionless mask in place at the news of his selection. Hermione immediately knew that Harry wouldn't have bothered to put his own name into the goblet of fire, it wasn't something he would do to gain attention, wasn't in his nature. But regardless of whether the boy had submitted his own name or not, it had been selected.
Dumbledore beckoned to Harry with one hand, and the boy slowly stood, making his way over to the door the other Champions had exited while the entire student body and visitors watching in stunned silence.
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Severus was not so surprised that Potter's name was pulled from the Goblet. He had already suspected that the Headmaster would now attempt some drastic action to pull the boy into the spotlight and force Lord Blackmoore to accidentally reveal what he was. What did surprise him was that Albus had not conveyed the information directly with Severus previously, about his plan to do this.
It seemed that the aged Headmaster was more than happy to spend his time plotting with his old friend Mad-Eye instead, shutting out the Potions Master quite effectively. What was more, the boy looked none too perplexed by the turn of events leading to his entering the Tournament whatsoever, almost as if he had planned for it to happen. And while Severus was willing to believe that Potter was more than able to fool the Headmaster's age line and get his name in the Goblet, but it didn't feel like the right motivation for the boy to do this.
Severus had probably paid more attention to Potter and his movements than most of the other staff had ever done, and he had recognized several key patterns in the boy's behavior. For one thing, Potter wasn't the overly zealous glory hound that Severus initially thought that the boy would be. Much unlike his father, Potter was more than able to live in the shadows, while still accepting what glory came his way. The Tournament was far too much of a stretch for the boy to even desire to compete in.
Much the same could be said about the prize money. Rich though he was and expected, especially in Slytherin, to wear fine materials and wizarding fashion, Potter broke the mold by diverging away from the gaudy or overly expensive material possessions, focusing more on practicality than pomp. It was in this matter especially that even Severus respected the boy, though he loathed admitting it.
Truly there was nothing that the Tournament offered Potter that he would have desired, which completely nullified the boy exerting even the slightest effort to push his way in as Champion for Hogwarts. Therefore, Severus could only conclude that someone outside the boy's immediate circle had done the deed. And yet none of this even remotely answered why the boy looked anything less than amused by the proceedings in the Trophy room, as the three Headmasters of the European schools argued over whether an underage boy should be allowed to contend.
Dumbledore, Severus, and Moody were the only three in the room even paying Potter any attention at all, each for their own reasons surely, but Severus chose not to comment on the situation, but merely let it play out before him.
Upon entering, Albus made a direct line to Harry, calmly asking, "Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Harry?"
"I'm sorry Professor, but I fail to see whether I put my own name in makes any difference now," Potter responded shrewdly. Albus seemed to take it as a negative response, and pressed on. "Did you ask any of the older students to put it into the Goblet for you?"
"Why would you leave such a terribly open flaw in your security as that, Headmaster?" Harry questioned back. Severus scowled, but could not help but agree with the logic. For Albus to have been concerned about that concept, meant that his age line had not been the perfect means of safeguarding the underage students from attempting to enter. What may have occurred if other means were taken to prevent anyone under seventeen from participating?
Karkaroff, always the bleating ram that he was, would not stop complaining, turning to plead to Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman, who had attended as the representatives of the Ministry and the other judges in the Tournament.
"We must follow the rules." Crouch Sr. replied curtly, "they clearly state that those people who names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."
Bagman, being a dunderhead if there ever was one, quickly agreed that Crouch knew the rules far more than he did, which Severus was inclined to agree about. Naturally, this did nothing to appease the Durmstrang Headmaster, who started ranting about demanding that more names be submitted to the Goblet and a new set of three Champions, if underage students could so easily join, or he and his students would simply leave.
"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled Moody from the stairs to the Great Hall. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"
Severus did not like the man's tone or implication whatsoever. It was subtle, working more on Karkaroff's reaction to distract from the trace amounts of pleasure that Moody's words gave away. The foolish man fell for the sting instantly, drawing all attention back to him with the quickness of his retort. "Convenient? I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."
"Don't you?" Moody pressed quietly, "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."
"What are you implying, Alastor?" Karkaroff continued, quite oblivious to how much the fool he was being played as.
"I am implying, Karkaroff, that if anyone among us has right to complain, it's Potter," Moody growled back, "but… funny thing… I don't hear him saying a word…"
"Why should 'e complain?" burst out the Beauxbatons champion, stomping her foot childishly, "E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money… zis is a chance many would die for!"
"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it," Moody countered, voice deadly quiet.
Severus had heard quite enough. Potter was not going to drop dead without his Head of House present. Wordlessly, Severus slipped out to the now empty Great Hall.
He could guess the outcome of this discussion long before it even occurred. Albus wanted Potter in the Tournament, and Potter would participate, under age or not. And regardless of what anyone thought, there was something underhanded going on, possibly even around and under the Headmaster's schemes.
Severus would normally have done some digging on his own, but there was only so much that he could maneuver about in the castle for the time being, with Moody prowling the corridors with that eye of his. It didn't help that any who were marked by the Dark Lord were as good as active Death Eaters to the man.
As if in response to the thought of it, Severus felt an itching pain twinge down his left arm.
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Veneficus was almost ready to laugh out loud at the proceedings in the Trophy Room. Barty Crouch Jr. was quite a skillful manipulator. Playing the role of the paranoid Ex-Auror was as simple for him as playing on Karkaroff's general manner and disagreeability to turn any and all attention away from himself. Even the great Dumbledore was so easily distracted by the need to play lovable referee that he wasn't able to notice the slight lapses in his supposed close friend.
Exiting the Great Hall into the empty castle, the young Sith Lord was positively delighted to sneak off to the Chamber of Secrets and spin his now illegal time-turner for its full five hours. A nice amount of secluded time to plot out his immediate actions was more than needed, and while he could now, with the communications array up and running on the magical energy cell that Miss Granger had developed, Veneficus could send a message off to Darth Millennial, warning him of the potential threat that had developed at last because of Dumbledore.
Once that had been accomplished, Veneficus turned from the central console and made his way to the artifact storage room the he had prepared. Darth Zeemar's Holocron was a prominent fixture for this room, accessible to none but himself. Anguis had no idea this room even existed, let alone had permission to enter it.
The gatekeeper appeared upon Veneficus' approach, the red Sith smiling wickedly at the aura of dark power that swept around the younger Sith. "So you've returned to me once again, Lord Veneficus…"
"I have my Lord," Veneficus replied with a small nod of his head, "I have questions, and as Head of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge I had hopes that I could find answers…"
"I am obligated to assist in what ways I can, as you've proven yourself more than adequate as an heir of the full truth and power of the Dark Side." the projections replied.
Taking a deep breath to steady his growing excitement at the prospect he was seeking. "My servant discovered, in the library of this very secret chamber, several books that were locked from access with the power of the Dark Side, in such a manner that we are familiar with, of the ancient Sith."
"Yes, I have felt the aura of the Dark Side from here," Zeemar commented, signaling that he understood thus far.
Veneficus nodded, continuing, "The man I presume locked the library, Salazar Slytherin, was a wizard, utilizing a modified aspect of the Force due to a genetic alteration of the Midichlorians. I can only guess that the man was like me, a hybrid able to use all sides of the Force. I wonder, therefore, how and why such a mutation exists, and how such a man with no possible avenues of training could have developed such a strong control over the Dark Side?"
The gatekeeper looked pensive, the hologram obvious scanning through all the data contained within the Holocron, "I cannot give a definite answer," he said after a moment's pause, "only possibilities and speculation."
"I would be honored for whatever wisdom you could impart to me, to understand more of where these Force users came from." Veneficus pressed.
"It is possible, that some far flung refugees of the ancient Force Wars made their way to this planet, those who predated even the Jedi or Sith Orders, and settled on the planet. But whether this Slytherin was a descendant of the Je'daii traveler to this world or a native, I cannot tell. The possibility is strong, I daresay even likely, but there is no proof behind it."
Veneficus nodded, having discussed what Gor-lak had known about the star wanderers. The Sith had pressed the Ork spirit for as much information as possible to their origin, but whomever the ancient Je'daii as he had called them were, they had kept their home planet or planets secret. All he knew was that the power of magic was never in the hands of humans up until the time the Star Wanderers arrived, which was near conclusive proof to Veneficus.
Ancient Force users, some of which had to be humans, had come to this system in the thousands or tens of thousands of year past, imparting some of the powers, knowledge, and heritage to the natives, leading to the advent of human force wielders. But over time something changed, perhaps inbreeding or some other phenomenon of the culture of the people had caused the Midichlorians to shift and mutate, tapping into an as of then unheard of aspect of the Force, which persisted to the present day. In another ten thousand years, who knew what to expect from these beings that lived in isolation from the rest of the known galaxy.
It was intriguing to Veneficus, but unfortunate that he had little to speculate upon past that point. It was a moot point overall, as Veneficus was rather decided on not allowing another such as himself to gain too much power. His ability to use both aspects of the Force was simply too much of an advantage to take lightly and allow his followers to use at their hearts content.
Wizard-kind was unpredictable and uncontrollable in its current environment, with any given member able to just vanish on the spot and never turn up again for decades if they wished. People like Miss Granger could be forces to absolutely ruin his future empire if allowed free reign in the wider galaxy.
But at the same time, it was a precious resource, and not something that could be lightly disposed of without great and careful planning put behind it. Nodding to the ancient Gatekeeper of the Sith, Veneficus left the artifact chamber, sealing the door behind him. For the time being, he had more pressing matters to be concerned with than what and how to deal with the wizarding world in the scope of the Galactic Scene, and he had only a few precious hours to continue honing the charade of skills that he could use legally in the tournament.
Thanks to Crouch Jr. and Darth Millennial's planning, Veneficus had swollen his repertoire of spells to contain nearly every hex, curse, and charm through N.E.W.T. level texts, which would be no more than the school could have given him. Healing spells, sadly, were beyond his ability, as it seemed that the split between Light and Darkness existed even in the Wild Force, and strict adherence to the path of power, hindered one from striving for the flaunted peace of the other.
It was of no matter in the end. Potions and salves were more than adequate to heal even grievous wounds in mere moments, and were blessedly neutral on the spectrum of the Force, allowing the Sith Lord to become a very competent brewer, and paving the way for him to determine how best to fulfill a conquest of the Galaxy. With Kolto, and the more powerful Bacta, held on solitary worlds, the ability to mix potions anywhere in quantities of their choice would hold a major military advantage over the Republic.
As he practiced, spells streaming from the holly and phoenix feather wand, Veneficus allowed his mind to drift out beyond the planet around him. Whatever the machinations of Dumbledore, Voldemort or the Ministry, they were all as nothing compared to the overarching goal of the Sith for countless millennia.
The downfall of the Jedi…
The thought of the ancient enemy of the Sith narrowed Veneficus' vision to the capital planet of Coruscant swam into view. The spires of the Grand Jedi Temple rose over the skyline, its Light Side Aura sickening to behold.
It was too soon, Veneficus couldn't allow the Jedi to learn of his presence, and he withdrew a bit from the Force vision. But not before a powerful presence reached out and touched his. A Jedi Master, brushed his aura like fingers in a pool of water, and then withdrew as if sickened.
'You may hide in the shadows for now, Zhar,' the Lightsider said scornfully, 'but we will find you in the end.'
Veneficus removed from the vision abruptly, pondering why in the Force he was brought so close to revealing the existence of the Sith to the Jedi, but thankfully they were so deluded as to think him their runaway knight Zhar. The last that Veneficus had heard of that one, he was in charge of operations on Korriban, preparing the return of a restored Sith Empire.
The Jedi was trying to draw him back in, find where Zhar was hiding, and Veneficus was all too happy to feed false information before breaking the trance completely. Let the Jedi run ragged all over the outer rim searching for a man who was completely expendable.
Even if they managed to find Zhar Quelmok, which reportedly they had been trying to do for years now, with no success.
Checking the time with a quick charm, Veneficus sighed as he saw that he was needed to return to the Slytherin common room if he wasn't going to be reported as missing. Stowing his wand, Veneficus sprinted through the tunnels to the hidden entrance of the Chamber, and slipped away, bypassing one of the Ravenclaw Prefects without so much as a noise.
Reentering the common room heralded an explosion of noise, as students applauded him. Gracefully, he bowed and waved their acknowledgment, singling out Blaise Zabini with his eyes. A few of the students in years above and below them came by, greeting and offering some refreshments that the high years had stowed away or stolen, but otherwise Veneficus was quite left alone as the common room held a small party for one of their own being made champion of Hogwarts.
"So," the dark skinned boy said as he cautiously sat in the chair opposite the Sith Lord, "you went and did it, then?"
"I am sure that I haven't a clue what you're talking about Zabini?" Veneficus said sarcastically, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes at the boy, who only smirked in response.
Veneficus had taken careful time to foster Zabini's curiosity and growing infatuation over the first months of term, so that the boy now felt he was one of the Sith Lord's closest confidants, not that such a thing was truly possible, but it worked in Veneficus' favor for the boy to believe so.
Whatever the boy may have hopes for of receiving from Veneficus, be it power or anything else, the price would be such as that Zabini would never know the full measure until it was too late to go back, and it would be steep enough that he could never truly part from it. Veneficus had seen in a vision that the boy was to be the progenitor of a great army, one that the Sith would utilize in their conquest of the Galaxy.
The Force had directed Veneficus to even noticing the boy, and subtle tests with various samples that he had acquired without Zabini's knowledge had determined that the boy was both genetically and magically a perfect specimen for cloning. The hindrance was, most unfortunately, that there wasn't currently a Sith controlled lab that had the technology and facilities to mass produce the clones.
But that would change in time. Millennial may be the Supreme Leader of the Sith and their followers for now, but Veneficus had plenty of clout as the Apprentice and future Sith Master. His appearance and actions on Dromund Kaas had seen to the aspiration of more than a few neophytes to seek him out and offer their services. Through these contacts, Veneficus learned of a planet that possessed the cloning capabilities he desired.
The planet Khomm, within a system of the same name, had recently declared their cloning technology to be so sophisticated that it had granted them the perfect generation, and would continue to clone their entire population indefinitely, to preserve what they considered to be a flawless race. Blind fools, but they're technology would be made to serve, as Veneficus had sent several agents to acquire the blueprints of their cloning facilities. I would not take long before this vital piece of information, properly retooled to war, would be providing the Sith with endless soldiers, strengthened and more capable for battle than anything the Republic hoped to achieve.
Veneficus smiled as Zabini chattered about what previous Tournaments entailed, feigning interest in his newest tool. Let the boy think what he wanted, Veneficus alone held the upper hand here, and would always have his desire from lesser beings.
After all, it was all a Lord was due, was it not?
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Anguis frowned heavily as Lord Veneficus entered the Great Hall the day the Sith's name emerged from the Goblet of Fire. If it were not for his threat of death upon disloyalty, the boy who was once Draco would have greatly considered abandoning the other boy right now. Such a major move as getting placed in the Tournament, along with all the secrecy since the end of the previous term was wearing on Anguis far more than ever before.
Was it not for this reason that he ended up killing his own father? The old man had always been so sure of himself, so overbearingly proud that his own son had nothing to offer him in insight or idea, and what had he thrown that away for? Only for another being, just the same yet more dangerous and powerful than Lucius had ever hoped to be.
Anguis was trapped, he saw that now. He may be a learner in the employ of the Sith Lords, but he was at their mercy, and Sith knew of no such thing. So, in a small and unseen act of rebellion, Anguis did nothing to prevent the childish ridicule of his master from the nearby children of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff houses. The two had been opposed to Slytherin since ages long past, and nothing short of the utter extinction of their houses would stop it. Much like the rivalry of the Jedi and Sith.
Across the Hall, Ron Weasley could be heard loudly denouncing Veneficus' championship, and that the Sith Lord had cheated his way in, and did not deserve their support. Where once the boy would have been merely ignored by his peers a year previously, now it seemed that the others around him were listening attentively, and some were even starting to agree, glaring back across the house tables at the Sith Apprentice. Anguis in particular could sense one blonde haired girl that had a paramount influence in the proceedings at the red and gold table.
It took only a few moments for Anguis to recognize Luna Lovegood, although she was far different than what he had been taught to expect from the supposedly absentminded and downright loony family. She was sitting nearby to where Weasley was speaking, neither aloof nor specifically paying attention, but nevertheless involved. The Force was surging through her, a mere trickle compared to any of the Darksiders present or that Anguis had met, but still the presence of it was enough to arouse his interest.
It seemed that the girl was assisting the red haired Ronald in persuading his housemates in opposing Veneficus, not that much could be accomplished by mere school children anyway. Who were they compared to the Sith? The endless light-years that separated Dromund Kaas and Earth alone was more than enough to prove that the Sith were dominant. Anguis may be shackled in his position, but he had taken a clear and definitive step away from being a mere puppet like any of the little boys or girls sitting in the Hall with him.
No, they were of little concern, which made Anguis' decision hollow, and filled him with desire to do more, to set up the path that would free him, through the Dark Side, from even Veneficus. He had begun seeking out older tomes, with use of his building influence as Head of the Malfoy bloodline, and researching the nature of bonding rituals, and how they may be thwarted.
It would take vast amounts of time for anything to turn up, especially as he practically had to rebuild the powerbase that his father had commanded from scratch, but it was better than trying to venture out on his own.
The Slytherin's first class was with Ravenclaw, so thankfully they were spared too much of Weasley's nonsense early in the morning. Granger joined them for the duration of the class, voicing her opinion that Veneficus had not entered his own name while Flitwick's back was turned, among other things declaring her support for the Sith Lord during the Tournament.
The other Ravenclaw students, while not as vocal as Granger, seemed to be equally supportive of the Slytherin Champion, which Anguis didn't find out of character for the house of logic. Ravenclaw always was far closer in relations to Slytherin than the other houses, probably because of the shared trait of being able to look past the limiting scope of morality and focus purely on results.
Charms passed quite peacefully, however it felt short lived before they had to put up with the Gryffindor's up close in Care of Magical Creatures. Any satisfaction that Anguis gleaned from breakfast was dashed completely, as Ronald was even more annoying in person. "Oh look," he said mockingly, "it's the champion! Why'd you even bother coming to classes? It's not like you need to sit exams or anything, bloody cheat…"
Veneficus ignored the arrogant, jealous prat, but Anguis thought that there was an actual point behind the boy's mocking. As school Champion, Veneficus was excluded from exams, so there wasn't a point for him to attend any of his classes. It was almost a free pass to stay in the Chamber and train as much as he pleased.
The answer which Anguis thought of a moment later was equally obvious. The Professors weren't likely to simply allow their Champion unlimited free time to simply be anywhere out of their sight, especially Dumbledore with Veneficus. Technically he could challenge it and be where he pleased, but then someone like Moody would be sent to snoop around and discover where he was hiding. As the Sith still relied strongly on secrecy and stealth, it was far easier to work within the system and attend classes, regardless of how useless they may or may not be to Veneficus, than to draw unwanted attention from the Headmaster as to his whereabouts.
Hagrid, ever oblivious and biased toward the house of Gryffindor, continued to eagerly teach about the vile Skrewts as Ronald spewed a long diatribe about how slimy and crooked Slytherin's had to be, for an underage member of their house to be chosen as Champion. The boy refused to accept that the magical artifact had been set to pick the best candidate of those entered, and that it chose the fourteen year old Sith over any older student spoke of something, but granted, members of that House weren't selected for their intelligence now were they?
The red headed boy's mouth flapped throughout the lesson, and Anguis watched as, ever so slowly, his masters well kept temper slowly built itself up. Ronald Weasley had some strange power of getting under people's skin, and for a Sith Lord such action was already treading on thin ice.
By the time the lesson was over, Anguis could tell that Veneficus would willingly flay the child alive just to restore precious silence, and the Sith's hand was shaking slightly, as though desirous to flick his wrist and release crimson death upon the boy with a carefully thrown lightsaber. But, control won out in the end, and soon afterward they returned to the castle, where Veneficus splintered off to use the restroom.
When he returned, Anguis raised an eyebrow as the boy looked somewhat more relaxed than he had previously. Catching his Acolyte's eyes, Veneficus fluttered a hand to his neck, silently speaking of where and what he had been doing. Anguis shook his head in befuddlement. Yet another opportunity that he himself could have attended to his benefit denied, because of his lack of importance in the Sith's grand scheme of things.
At least it appeared that only a single hour was used to sate Veneficus' ire for the time being. But from a glance at their schedule, Anguis wondered how many more extra hours would be used up today alone by Veneficus vengefully tearing apart magical constructs and droids alike to spare the school from the Sith Lord's wrath.
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Colin was positively delighted that he had been selected to collect Harry for the tournament ceremony. The under years had a free period at this time, and nothing would prevent Colin from avoiding his narcissistic little brother Dennis under any circumstances. Despite being in opposite houses, the little brat being placed into Gryffindor without a thought, then wondering why Colin wasn't there for him, (only after two full years of telling his family what House he had been sorted into,) as well as the younger Creevey trying to butt in whenever he found Colin in the corridors, regardless of who Colin may be with or what he might be doing.
Harry Potter's protection or not, it did little for the muggleborn boy's image to be around even his own obnoxious, Gryffindor brother in the eyes of the rest of Slytherin House. The brat was a menace, and wanting the entire world handed to him on a platter. Colin had not failed to notice the gifts sent to his brother from home, despite not even so much as receiving a letter himself from their good for nothing father.
It wasn't fair that Dennis got to be the prince of the family, while Colin was shoved aside to whatever slot was most convenient. But Harry understood him perfectly, and stood up for Colin in his views and desires. The older boy was quite literally the chief voice in Slytherin, and Colin was right there next to him, unnoticed by the rest of the school, but nevertheless appreciated by the great wizard, and his very good friend.
Reaching Snape's potion's classroom, where he knew that Harry had class at this time from memorizing the timetable that the boy had, Colin knocked solidly on the door before pushing inside. All eyes turned to him, but Harry was present, which allowed Colin the confidence he needed to stroll directly up to Snape's desk and look the man in the eye.
"Yes?" the Potions Professor said curtly.
It was almost too easy for Colin to put on a falsely pleasant face in the presence of the Head of Slytherin, who hadn't done anything against Colin in any of the Third Years Potions Classes, even if the man was currently staring imperiously down his nose at the small boy. "Please Sir," he said sweetly, "I've been sent to fetch Harry Potter and take him upstairs for Tournament related business. Mr. Bagman's orders..." Colin added when Snape frowned in the direction of Harry.
"Very well, very well," the Potions Master said silkily, although even Colin could tell that the man was boiling beneath the surface at the seeming injustice of removing one of his students from class before he allowed it to be so.
Colin smiled as Harry packed his things quickly and joined him outside the classroom, swinging his bag over his shoulder as they walked. "Excellent timing, Colin," he commented lazily, "do you happen to know what Bagman wants with us?"
"Of course!" Colin replied, bouncing on the balls of his feet as they walked, "They're having a small Tournament related ceremony, then taking photos for the Daily Prophet."
"Excellent..." Harry said mysteriously, even as they drew close to the room that Bagman had told Colin to bring Harry to. Pausing right outside, Harry turned back, "I can tell that you have more pressures weighting you down because of your current lot in life Colin, and that pains me. I want you to find me this weekend, and spent some time with me, I know of a few things I think will cheer you up immensely..."
Colin perked up at that, but before he could comment or ask for more information, Harry had slipped inside the door. A small bubble of cheer inside him, Colin turned about and started for the Slytherin common room. No point in trying to go anywhere else, where his brother might find him and ruin the good mood he had just been placed in.