Ch 27- Progress
Hey guys! I'm baaack! Quick note before the chapter- after rewatching the Fantastic Beasts scene in which the Muggle got bit by a murtlap, I went 'Huh? That looks nothing like Rasputin- it's too wiggly!'
So, after I re-reread the descriptions of murtlaps I discovered that JK's description uses rat/sea anemone… I wrote Rasputin as a rat/sea urchin. Hehe… oops. Anyways, I like leaving the prickly Raz as he is, so he is an Albanian Murtlap, with urchin spikes instead of anemone wiggles. (original, I know, but I didn't want to just ignore the problem without fixing it.)(if anyone has a better name suggestion feel free to share!)
(PS- sorry about the late posting, my beta and myself have had double workloads since Christmas and have had trouble finding time to co-author. Thanks for your patience, past and future reviews, and we hope you enjoy!)
"Jo- Mister Orion? Sir?" Zoey Malam peaked around the door to her cousin's office, finding it empty. Save, of course, for Rasputin snoring on the pile of shredded papers he'd made a nest of. She shook her head at the murtlap, hoping hadn't used anything important this time.
The rodential pet snored away as Zoey walked around the imposing desk and knocked, not really surprised that she didn't get an answer. Jonovan Malam Orion was many things, but a morning person was not one of them. Back in his teenage days, it had literally taken buckets of water to get her cousin up in time for the schoolbus. A measly knock was still inadequate to wake him most mornings.
...plus there was the possibility of a silencing spell separating the History Office from Private Quarters. Zoey could feel a lot of old spells layered on the door, so a Silencio or Muffiliato was certainly possible. Probable actually, the Ravenclaw girl would guess.
She picked up and tested the new lock Jon had put on his door, cursing the cold piece of metal. It had been there last night too.
As eager as she was to explore the new secret passage she'd found in Myrtle's bathroom- a tunnel with a slide- she hadn't let herself just go down it. Jumping down a potentially dangerous tunnel in the middle of the night, with nobody aware of where she was, and not even an exit strategy would be nothing short of suicidal. Not to mention plain stupid.
Instead she'd come to grab her broom and tell Jon, but he'd been out. So she'd reluctantly delayed until now, expecting to find him asleep grading papers or already tinkering with his latest magtech attempt in one of his rare free times.
Instead Zoey leaned back against the desk and rolled her nails on the finished mahogany, tucking a gold bang behind her ear. Her patience lasted all of about two seconds before she turned to find a piece of parchment.
"Gone exploring," She dictated quietly as she wrote, "I'll be with Raz, see you soon…"
She paused her writing and poked the matlap in question with the quill, letting him awake from his curled position of prickling pain. "P dot S dot, start working on alarm clocks next. Period."
Rasputin was about as happy about mornings as his master was, and so he glared accusingly at Zoey even as he dutifully sat back on his haunches and wiped his paws over his face, then turned to pull a few stray paper bits from his back.
Zoey stuck the paper to the door with a touch of magic and closed her eyes, sticking it to the concealment charm like a burr to hide it in case a student came in. Then she huffed a bang back out of her eyes. Jon's paranoia was really starting to grow on her.
Raz mostly asleep in one hand and her broomcase in the other, she was almost out the door when something on the shelf caught her eye. She pocketed it and left one more line on the note.
P.P.S.- I'm taking your lumos globe too.
In Gryffindor Tower, Rose Granger-Weasley was huddled under her covers. Ever since the mortifying start to her day yesterday, she'd been walking around in a state of numb… well not quite 'bliss', but it certainly would be compared to what came after. Mortified by the public reveal that she'd invaded Ravenclaw Tower, Rose had buried herself in her studies for the rest of the day. While researching the mating habits of Moon Calves or debating whether magical communication had become outdated, she didn't really need to think.
Keeping her mind preoccupied with remembering facts or dissecting flaws in lines of reasoning had carried her through the day. She vaguely remembered various classmates and people trying to talk to her, but no matter the subject she'd turned them all away with a 'later'. Everyone knew Rose was studious, so she had that liberty on her bad days.
And yesterday had been a really bad day.
Rose sniffed wetly and wiped her face. After a day of calming herself with study, the eldest Granger-Weasley now found herself unwilling to get up to face a long weekend day without classes and studies to hide in.
She chided herself for the thought. She was a Granger-Weasley. Her parents had fought Voldemort. I have all the tools for success. Just look at my parents! Rose dictated their credentials as she sat up, My Mom spearheaded the biggest creatures-rights movement since the seventeen hundreds. She's the most accomplished Witch in History. My dad is… very proud of me. I can do this.
Rose grabbed a tissue from her dresser, blowing loudly in the emptied dorm. Being near noon, even the laziest of people had already departed for a meal or two by now. That meant that nobody could see her upset. Already a better start than yesterday.
Today will be great. She decided firmly, tossing the dirtied tissue into the wicker basket. Honestly, it'll probably have blown over by now. I did wrong, I got my punishment, and everyone knows it.
The last three words made her eyes water and so Rose stopped for another handful of tissues, crying noisily in the empty room.
Alone, her sorrow passed quickly. She straightened and resolved to spend the day in the support of her family until she felt better. Stop worrying- today will be great. How do I know?
Rose Granger-Weasley chose to make this last statement aloud "Because I'll make it that way."
She straightened, tossed her mane of red curls over her shoulder, and took the first step of the day…
… straight onto a solid floor of gobstones, the round set making her slip and fall to the ground. The magical marbles rolled and bumped into eachother, a good dozen of them ricocheting out of the overlapping circles that had been chalked to the floor of her Gryffindor Dorm.
For a few moments Rose just laid there stunned, her brain trying to process how she had gone from vertical to horizontal so quickly. She distantly heard the click-click…click of the last marbles stopping, trying to figure out how a set of gobstones had gotten into her dorm. None of her dormmates played the geeky game, and Rose certainly had no interest in a pastime that involved-
Their momentum dwindled, the gobstones turned in unison and sprayed smelly water all over the person who'd knocked them out of their rings.
Nobody heard the undignified shriek Rose gave, or the sound of her getting up and tripping again. Which knocked more gobstones into eachother and- by rules of the magical marble game- warranted the smelly soaking of the unskilled player. By the time she made it to her closet the eldest Granger-Weasley reeked from head to toe, and she'd already gotten the very bad inkling that this day would not go the way she wanted. At. All.
Half an hour later that was proven true when her hair still smelled, no matter how much shampoo she'd used. Eventually forced to give up on her attempts and just spray on some WonderWitch perfume in hopes that it would cover the stench, Rose gathered her stuff for the day with the idea that things could only get better.
She was wrong. Walking through the halls to breakfast, it felt like everyone was looking at her. It took every ounce of her Gryffindor bravery to keep her back straight and head high as she walked, though there wasn't much she could do about the reddening of her cheeks.
By the time she reached a small gathering of her family at outside the Great Hall they looked more like a lifeboat to Rose than her younger family members. She called out to them "Lily, Albus- hey Hugo!" Her attention targeted on her little brother, she didn't notice Albus stiffen at her greeting. "Feels like it's been ages, Hue. How're your classes going?"
"Don't call me that!" Hugo blushed, ducking away from the hand she was using to ruffle his red hair. "Binn's is a bore, the Patil professors assign too many papers, and Sybble is a slavedriver. Thank Merlin for Uncle Longbottom's class."
"Sybble's not so bad. One time she let Albus redo the same essay four times. You remember that, Al?"
Silence met her answer.
"...Al?"
"Hey Hugo, I think they'll have restocked the bacon by now."
"Urm-" looking between his cousin and his obviously-being-ignored older sister, Hugo agreed. "Probably."
"Let's go then." Albus turned and started walking into the Great Hall.
"Wha- Albus!" Rose stammered, shocked at his behavior.
With a mantle of ice Albus stopped and half turned to look at her. "Yes, Rose?"
"I- um, I just… I wanted to talk to you."
"Well." Something flashed in his eyes. "It can wait."
Three jaws dropped at sweet Albus's casual dismissal, and once the boys left Rose turned a bewildered gaze upon Lily. "What was that about?"
The young Hufflepuff tilted her head at Albus's back, then looked at Rose. "Well, what did you do to make him mad?"
"Me?" Rose repeated incredulously. "I didn't do anything!"
"You must have." Lily sat casually on a windowsill as though she wasn't accusing the smartest person in her school of being wrong. "He just treated you the same way he's been treating James."
"That's not-" even as she started to deny it the vague memory of telling Albus off yesterday came to mind. Merlin, he'd even used her exact words. She sat heavily next to Lily, too shocked to finish her statement. Since when had Albus had a vindictive bone in his body?
Sniffing lightly, Lily looked around, following her nose until she eventually smelled Rose and then reeled back. "Um- Rose- what kind of shampoo did you use this morning?"
"...Wonderwitch." She said morosely, then shared the tale of how her morning had gone.
"Gobstones, huh?" Lily looked at her sympathetically and jumped off the windowsill, reaching up to pat her cousin's shoulder. "Let's get you some breakfast."
Rose- or more accurately, her stomach- rumbled in agreement, and she finished the last of her long journey for food.
The girls sat at the Hufflepuff table today, probably because Lily- ever the negotiator- wanted to give Albus space with whatever was bothering him. The Hufflepuffs all made room for the pair to sit across from each other. She pulled out a leaf of lettuce for her rabbit and stacked a plate of chocolate chip pancakes just before her Prefect came over.
Rupert looked at the two girls that had been directly and indirectly associated with the previous day's drama. "Everything okay here?" He asked with an eye on Lily, his badge shining with its usual polish.
"Yes, thank you." She answered peacefully, then turned back to Rose as Rupert nodded and moved on. "So, who do you think set the gobstones?"
"I don't know." Rose said exasperatedly. "But they are- are- absolutely horrid! I have enough going wrong in my life already. First I have to keep up with James's ridiculous training schedule, then I had to waste my time tutoring someone who didn't even want it, then I get a letter from Mum about my marks dropping, then- ohmygod Mum." She cut herself off as she came to a realization. "She's gonna hear about this any day now."
"Hold on-" Lily chimed in. "What's this about your marks dropping?"
Rose blushed as she realized her slip. "Oh it- it's nothing really. Just- between Quidditch Practice and helping people with homework and tutoring the Transfer I got a few 'Exceed Expectations' instead of 'Outstandings'."
She looked upset at not having been told. "When was this?"
"... start of October."
"Ro-ose," Lily said her name as a two syllable word. "You should have told me. I can do my essays on my own."
"I know that." she said, but her face and tone spoke a little of doubt.
The young Hufflepuff looked up to the candles adorning the ceiling and sighed, but didn't press the point.
"An-y-ways," Rose went on, eager to get away from that subject and on to what was really bothering her. "I've got no time for reading anymore! I haven't touched a book outside of class since Wednesday, between juggling homework and quidditch."
"Mmhm." Lily hummed along, used to Rose's ranting complaints.
"And I mean, I'm under so much pressure from my parents and you know all the Professors expect only my best, which is hard to deliver. On top of it all I've got detention from now to Christmas, and that's just not fair-"
"What?"
"Yeah," Rose straightened up. "Lorcan didn't tell you? We've got detention every day after class. As if I didn't have enough going wrong in my life already. I don't get it- I mean, McGonagall has to know what I'm going through. It's not fair. Nobody else has had to go through what I do."
"Excuse you," Lily snapped, looking properly intimidating despite her small stature as she waved her hand disapprovingly. Charles Fluffington watched as the leaf of lettuce he'd been nibbling waved upon it like an army banner. "Are you forgetting what you did to get the detention? You broke into another house and stole something."
She grew quieter and hissed the heinous crime, looking around to see if anyone was following the conversation.
"And then-" she rolled her eyes. "You admitted it in front of three professors. That's a pretty convenient little thing to blot out, Rose. Of course McGonagall was going to give you detention. "
"I didn't 'blot it out'," the Granger-Weasley defended herself, but much more meekly. "I just- I just think that I, specifically, didn't require such an extreme measure to learn my err."
"Oh but Lorcan did?" Lily countered ruthlessly. "And why you 'specifically'? Rose, your problems… well, they are problems, but they're not that unique. Parents being strict on their kids is practically in the job description. Strictness is in the Professor's job descriptions. And, obviously, all your teammates have to follow the same practice schedule you do. Even James."
"It wasn't three professors. It was one. Orion is an Assistant." Rose corrected, finding she didn't have any other rebuttal to offer at the moment. She poked at her breakfast with a fork as she thought about Lily's words, but another conversation floated into her mind.
Self-centered. Self-absorbed. Self-entitled.
"Lily, can you be honest about something?"
"I always am." Her younger cousin answered, pulling her rabbit off the edge of her Hufflepuff robes.
"Do you think I'm selfish?"
…
It did not bode well, Rose realized a few seconds later, that it was taking Lily this long to answer.
"Sometimes." Lily finally said after what felt like an eternity. She kept her gaze on Charles as she continued. "Increasingly, in recent years. But that doesn't mean you can't be kind. And when you do do something for someone else's sake, you go all out."
She looked down at her plate as she realized that that answer was basically a well-phrased 'yes', an uncomfortable twist in her gut. Lily, the nicest person she knew, thought she was selfish. Scorpius, a flipping Malfoy Pureblood, thought she was self-centered. "So I'm self-centered… but I'm nice about it?"
"You lack empathy. Especially to people who aren't family. You get so caught up in your own issues you fail to realize what's happening to the other person… I'd say you're more self-absorbed than self-centered."
She half-laughed as Lily unknowingly echoed Scorpius once again. "There's a difference?"
"Yes." The younger girl stated simply. "Self-centered means you don't care about anyone else. Self-absorbed means you care so much about yourself, it makes you forget about everyone else."
It wasn't much of a distinction, but Rose supposed she liked the silver lining of it.
Lily finally looked up at her again, her brown eyes seeming to wander straight into Rose's mind and soul to realize exactly how the older girl felt about this. "I know it's been a rough couple of days. You're gonna look in a mirror and have to decide if you're okay with believing the world revolves around you… or see if you want to learn from this and grow into a different mindset. Until you make that decision I can't help you."
"Help me?" Rose echoed in surprise.
"Yes 'help you'," she stated, waving her hand again in disapproval at the doubt. Charles lifted onto his back paws to chase his lettuce. "I'm your cousin, it's what I'm for. If you'd like a place to start- if you're interested- try and figure out what's going on between you and Albus. And then try and fix it."
Rose fell silent for a second again, this time glancing at the Gryffindor table where her cousin was talking to Hugo, smiling but not quite as brightly as normal. "...I'll try."
Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy was not a morning person. It was a fault, he knew. He was aware how many hours of the day he was prone to waste when given opportunity over summer and winter vacations. A Malfoy did not ignore facts just because they were inconvenient.
The singular action that could promptly wake him in the early mornings, without fail, was the smell of fresh pancakes, baked by his mom and- Skipsy?!
Malfoy jerked awake, his eyes wide as he took a deeper breath. Definitely pancakes. A look around revealed that he was in his claimed room of the guest house, adorned with it's usual Slytherin Posters and diagrams of Quidditch stratagems.
He was home… it was late morning, he confirmed with a glance out the window, and someone was making pancakes.
It couldn't have been a dream, he thought as he walked down the stairs. More specifically a nightmare, to have ended with his house DisEnchanted and Skipsy dead. But to dream an entire semester of Hogwarts was too long and detailed for his usual sleeping material. And why would that blue haired girl from last semester be in it- he hadn't thought about her all summer. It probably wasn't a dream, he told himself firmly, but his heart still sank as he reached the kitchen.
Because there, already dressed and holding the frying pan, was not his mother nor his house elf, but Assistant Orion. The teaching aid turned and nodded at him while flipping a perfectly browned pancake. "You're up. Good; we should return to Hogwarts this morning, preferably soon."
"... I have practice tonight anyways. I'll grab my supplies." Malfoy spoke blandly, his appetite gone. He turned and walked back up the stairs at a far more controlled pace than he'd descended, pausing to look out the window. In the distance he could see Malfoy Manor. It was still swarmed with Ministry investigators and a few dogged reporters. They'd likely be there for weeks more.
He snapped his gaze away and resumed walking. This wasn't the first time that his family had retreated from their proper manor to the little-known guest house at the edge of their property. It had been built in the 18th century when his ancestors had installed plumbing fixtures. Loath as the Malfoys of old were to allow muggles into their home, they were even more averse to living under the same roof while the month-long project ensued. So htye'd built and entire second house for the ordeal. Despite keeping the extra building it hadn't really been used much until his lifetime- after all, his family had plenty of other properties for proper vacations. But with the scrutiny of the Ministry suspicions and prying investigators and lingering Second-War fanatics, Scorpius and his parents had made the building a second home for situations such as this. And often he and his mother would come here for a day or two during his Father's more dangerous experiments.
Still, he'd been perplexed when he and Orion had landed HERE after trying to floo to the manor. Floo travel was- as always- a dizzying blur, but he'd never before missed a chimney. His quick reflexes were the only reason he'd recognised this exit and gotten out in time, Orion shortly behind him.
"Nice place." the assistant had commented, absently swiping off some stray soot.
"...This isn't it. That is." He had pointed across the field, to where a large crowd of reporters had still been gathered and Obliviators had been interrogating then erasing the minds of the muggles that were there.
"Ah. Well then, hat on- let's get in."
Scorpius picked up the apparel that had fall off on his arrival, pulling it down over his blond hair and holding a clunky camera in front of his lower face. The disguise should work- after all, the last things a reporter on scene paid attention to was other reporters. The young Malfoy was mildly disgusted he'd never thought of the simple ruse himself, but would undoubtedly use it again.
Orion had used his metamorphmagi talent to make himself into a far shorter and stouter person, transforming his adorned faculty uniform into plain black robes with a wave of his hand.
The pair had walked around the gates to the back of the property, where Scorpius knew there was a hidden servants' passage. He pulled out his wand and, careful not to let the Assistant hear, murmured the password.
When the magical entrance didn't open Malfoy said it again a bit louder, frowning as he stated "I don't know what's wrong with it."
"Why not go in through a window?" Orion walked to a small one a few yards away, an entrance to the laundry room.
Scorpius had sighed. With all the protection wards and seals on his home, such an endeavor would only get their hands melted off. He was about to say so when the Assistant carelessly opened the latch with a casual "'lohamora," and didn't get blasted ten feet back for the attempt. Instead, the window opened invitingly to allow Orion inside.
Time was wasted blinking between the open window and the concealed passage and back again before Scorpius followed. While he knew his face was still impossible to read, he was worried by the easy infiltration. He'd have to show it to his parents- see if this was how the Manor had been broken into. His thoughts were interrupted by a lingering smell of dirty laundry, and he crinkled his nose in disapproval before casting a quick freshening charm.
Such a distasteful aroma had no place in Malfoy Manor, Scorpius Hyperion frowned. He would have to tell- Skipsy…
His condemnation had vanished in an instant to be replaced with guilt and loss. She was dead, and one of his first thoughts when he got home was about telling her off for slacking. And, horrible as it was, he almost wished he could because that'd mean she was safe and alive.
Scorpius had pushed such useless musings from his mind and led the way into the manor, taking the ridiculous hat off when he saw Orion metamorph back into himself. The pair traveled silently for a short time, until they turned a corner to see an Auror prepared with his wand drawn.
"Hands up," the Magical Law Enforcer commanded, "Who are you and how did you get in here?"
Scorpius prickled at taking any command in the halls of his own home, but did as he was bade. Orion did as well, speaking in a placating tone "I'm an Assistant Professor from Hogwarts, here with the Malfoy heir? He, well, he heard about the attack and wished to make sure things were alright."
"Identification?"
"Um…"
"Take me to my parents," Scorpius spoke up, wanting to expedite this process. "They'll know."
The Auror still looked doubtful, but there was no denying the obvious Malfoy features that Scorpius bore. The blond hair, pale skin and opaque blue-grey eyes certainly supported their story though, so it had been but a matter of time before Scorpius had proven he was who he claimed to be.
He still had trouble believing in the complete disenchantment of his Manor. Scorpius hadn't even known such a feat was even possible, but as the Malfoy returned to his secondary room he knew better than to avoid the truth. His family portraits… he hoped there was a way to free them. It was strange to hope that Ministry CurseBreakers find something amiss in his house instead of just wanting them gone, he mused, but expertise was always appreciated under warranted situations.
He'd come up here to gather his things before going back to school, Scorpius recalled, but as he looked about he found there wasn't really anything he wanted in his dorm. Instead he found himself gravitating to the window again, looking at the Manor as though it would suddenly jump back to magical life and tell them the culprit itself.
He blinked at his uncharacteristically whimsical notion, realizing he must be truly desolate to have allowed such a non-existent possibility even enter his thoughts.
"Scorpius?"
"Mother…" he turned at her voice, seeing her standing in the doorway. To a casual observer she would appear as flawless as ever, her eyes still bright green, her dark hair perfectly curled and her spine, of course, straightened to hold her to a full stature. To her son, however, Astoria could not hide the shadows in her eyes or the minute droop of her shoulders. Her features, while undoubtedly beautiful, were strained with the force it took to control them.
Scorpius would probably see the same thing in a mirror.
Astoria Malfoy offered her child a practiced smile and walked to his side, setting her hands on his shoulders. "Chin up, son. A Malfoy does not leave their woes where the world can see it."
He half-laughed and half-scoffed. "The world is well aware of this one, Mother. Didn't you see the paper?"
"I did." she declared. "But it will pass. I will not have this affecting your studies."
"Hogwarts is hardly my highest priority." he scoffed again.
"Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. I did not raise you to do anything by half measures." She turned her head to look at her son from a different angle. "That being said- what, precisely, has captured your interest so much so as to attain a higher standing than your education?"
He forced himself not to blink, knowing his mother would recognise the tell as he found himself without an acceptable immediate answer. Quidditch would hardly be commendable nor accurate, and neither, he found, was his newest research into the histories of magic. His newest personal challenge to tutor the unskilled was not a particularly good use of his valuable time by his mother's standards. And none of those things ever truly held his undivided attention anyways. Not like his-
"Family." Scorpius stated sincerely, remembering what it had been like to read that article and realize that the indomitable Malfoys had been struck in their own home. He was rewarded as he saw the corner of his mother's mouth twitch in approval.
"An excellent answer." she matched, then asked after a pause "What did you think of your Godfather?"
"Uncle Xavier?" Scorpius asked, using the words to buy a moment for thought. His uncle was quite a character, one that he might not appreciate had he not been in a room of the most powerful politicians in Wizarding Britain. "It was him and one house-elf. And he had an entire room of Aurors, including Potter, on edge."
The young Malfoy was familiar with the notion that one's past and reputation immediately altered the world's perception of oneself. Many a Slytherin would scamper to make way any time their Head of House, Sybble, walked in a room. And students tended to silence when McGonagall went through a hall. They'd also duck for cover on the rare instances when Priscilla displayed a bad mood. Yet all his experiences were displayed by children. Yesterday was the first time Scorpius had seen adults show the same kind of deference.
It had been a very palpable display of the power of one's reputation. Xavier had been on par with that of Harry Potter himself but without his Auror's, Scorpius wasn't sure the famed wizard would have held the same power by presence alone. The Malfoy heir made a silent goal to one day have that level of prestige.
"You really think a man of his stature would go anywhere unprotected?"
They never outright spoke of Xavier Avery's underworld dealings, though he had been aware of his Godfather's unorthodox career for years. Usually though Scorpius was hushed out of the room whenever Xavier arrived, if not by his father then by the house elf who never left Xavier's side.
"With as many CurseBreakers that were here he must have been. Nobody could have stayed undetected for long." He paused as an idea came to him. "Unless his elf is more powerful than you'd expect."
Astoria nodded once in confirmation and a touch of pride at his deduction before asking a true query. "What do you know of that Professor downstairs?"
"Jonovan Orion is not a Professor. He's the Teaching Assistant for History of Magic." He clarified because he felt the distinction important. "He's a metamorphmagi. And extremely skilled in wandless magic."
"Really?" she said, conveying intrigue rather than doubt. Metamorphs were rare, after all.
The conversation dwindled as they each thought about what they'd learned.
"Mister Malfoy!" Orion's voice echoed through the house. "Are you ready yet?"
Astoria Malfoy scowled minutely and for a second Scorpius expected his mother to scold the Hogwarts faculty member for his lack of guest manners, but she didn't. Instead she looked at her son and gave a brief but no less warm hug. "Don't fret. We'll find out who attacked our home. Our Skipsy."
Scorpius ducked his head at the reminder of her passing and the brief funeral they'd held. "A Malfoy is not so petty as to seek revenge," he recited.
"A Malfoy does, however, seek to return all favors in kind." His mother finished, green eyes glinting with a rarely-displayed darkness. "And I am a Malfoy as well."
That slide, Zoey Malam decided with a smile, got a seven out of ten. Would have been an eight, except for the smell. If this place ended up being worth revisiting she'd probably clean it for next time.
Brushing herself off and hoping she'd go nose-blind to the sewage stuff soon enough, Zoey unpacked her broom and felt it's magic thrum like hummingbird wings in anticipation. She patted the black wood fondly, running a thumb over the faded ZA on the hilt.
Rasputin opted to walk instead of ride, the crotchety rodent against air travel. He'd bit not one, not two, but five attendants the one time Jon had taken him on a plane.
Now that had been real a adventure of a day. For multiple reasons- not the least of which was every wizards' fear that Jon's magic would once again release an uncontrolled burst of magic and cause the plane to short circuit and inevitably crash. But it had been fine. Jon, unlike his familiar, enjoyed mechanical flying.
People should fly more often, Zoey decided as she twisted around sharp turns with ease. Especially wizards. Brooms were the best! Sure, they didn't make sense the way the other modes of transportation did… Blimps? The idea there was to be lighter than air. Planes? Zoey had always pictured that as the engines skipping the craft like a rock over a pond. Rockets just exploded into the air cartoon style… but brooms? With no engine to speak of they must use magic to make themselves lighter than air. And then propel themselves at their rider's mental direction and create an exact counterweight of of it's rider. It was an interesting thought, Zoey realized, because that would mean every broom in the world knew the exact weight of every person who'd sat on it.
Whatever the mechanics of a broom, all Zoey knew knew was that it needed no aerodynamics, no propulsion, no equal opposite reaction- basically no physics- to send herself soaring with freedom, and it was great. Physics was boring anyways.
This particular scenery wasn't the best, the young Ravenclaw admitted to herself, looking at the damp walls casting reflections on what looked to be a thick layer of grit and grime on everything. The echoing silence was only punctuated by her own mumbles and the stray drip of water falling from the ceiling. Overall this place looked pretty run down- but her keen eyes caught sight of some torches in the walls, and she supposed that with proper lighting it would be much more welcoming. And she was buzzing almost as happily as her broom to zoom around the snaking corners and turns.
She paused every now and again to map her way and estimate how far she'd gotten, the lumos globe locked in a hover a few inches in front of her broomstick.
Finally she turned a corner and then was forced into an abrupt stop. "What the-?" her voice bounced off the walls. "How did this happen?"
The 'this' Zoey was talking about was a complete cave-in, the tunnel blocked by large chunks of rock and broken piping. In the silence that followed the scrabble of claws announced Rasputin's arrival, his energetic panting breaking the hush of their adventure.
"Sorry Raz, was I going too fast?" Zoey mumbled, reaching down to pet him absentmindedly. Most of her focus was on the blocked path. The break looked old- there was no fresh dust on the ground, and the edges were not smooth but not yet worn. She reached out with her magic to see if she could tell what had caused it, but her senses detected no arcane presence to speak of.
A non-magical accident actually had her more worried than a magical trap would have. Were these tunnels unstable? "Maybe we should go back…"
Rasputin finished nibbling her shoelace affectionately and scrambled forward, climbing the rocks with ease and disappearing.
"Raz- Raz-!?" Zoey called out, her previous hesitation forgotten as she scrambled after the errant familiar. She paused as she found a sizable gap in the rocks- it looked like a previous explorer had cleared a person-sized tunnel on the top. She could easily crawl in on all fours. And back out. Assuming the tunnel was stable and would not collapse in the meantime.
Her mind was made as she heard Rasputin emitting a strange sound. "You Razmanian Devil, if you got yourself stuck-" she warned as she made it through, careful not to scratch her mom's broom in the passage.
The matlap was rolling on the ground, his small tongue lolling happily as he wriggled in a noxious goop that Zoey apparently had been smelling since her arrival.
"... you are so getting a bath." she declared, covering her nose and suppressing her gag reflex.
He paused to glare at her disapprovingly, then defiantly resumed his mud wallowing. His spikes made divots and streaks in the moist ground.
She stopped to get on her broom again, not wanting to put her shoes in whatever Rasputin was covering himself with. As she traveled she noticed with interest that it was, strangely, not truly a goop puddle that he'd found but a long line of something that appeared to be decomposing.
"Well," the Ravenclaw chastised herself for her curiosity, "I am in a sewage system…"
Rasputin reluctantly got back to his paws and followed her, a few shed snake scales clinging to his spikes.
The air got cleaner the farther they traveled, and then their way was blocked once again. This barrier, though, was far more official.
A solid wall of brick and mortar now barred the path, a walkway leading up to it directing her to a carved nest of serpents, their eyes glittering with emeralds.
The hair on the back of Zoey's neck stood up in the presence of the green gems. The door- for her magic was most definitely telling her that this was yet another concealed entrance- simmered with a sharp energy that crackled and hissed like boiling acid. And those gems felt like a conduit for part of it.
She descended from her broom and stood on her own two feet, her instinct telling her that decorum and poise would be helpful here. The emerald's magic licked over her, testing her out as she approached.
"Hi to you too." Zoey mumbled, disliking the sensation but not blocking it yet. Instead she reached out experimentally with her newly acquired senses. 'Acidic' was definitely the word she'd use to describe its reaction to her intrusion, but she sensed that the magic wasn't actually repelling her exploration… yet.
So, another magical door to slip by. All right. She rubbed her hands together before reaching out to stroke the stone scales of the carving on the left, the physical action helping her direct and mold the intangible image in her mind.
Zoey focused on bringing the aggressive magic from a bubbling simmer down to a soft smoulder, trying the calm it the way she would Rasputin on a bad day.
Having none of that, the magic struck out and back like a whip, a stinging sensation shooting up her arm for her intrusion.
She hissed in shock and distantly heard Rasputin growl as he realized she was hurt, but she had ceased registering the tangible world. Right now Zoey's authority had just been challenged- and if she didn't react immediately, she would not only lose an opportunity to establish dominance but she might not get another.
The Ravenclaw didn't question the wild instinct and instead struck back at the magic, but instead of a returned blow Zoey laid her power down thick and heavy, a smothering blanket that cushioned her from it's continuing attacks.
The invisible battle continued for a few moments before the magic- old and powerful but still limited by the very nature of its existence- had to stop exerting itself else risk disenchantment.
Zoey took a breath and patted the carving, easing her metaphorical 'weight'. "Much better. Now, let me through?"
She sensed its dissatisfaction, but it didn't have much a choice in the matter. One of the other snakes moved in a slither across the edge of the doorway, ancient locks and barriers releasing with heavy metallic clanks, and then the wall slid open to the side to reveal the chamber behind it. She raised the lumos globe like a weapon in preparation for the other side, but instead she almost dropped it in shock.
"Wow…" the word echoed in the solitary silence, as though returning to agree with her because this place most definitely deserved resounding appreciation.
As she stepped inside the chamber a spark of magic ignited, a chain of smoke puffs that lit a long row of torches mounted in more snake statues. The space was easily the size of the Great Hall and maybe twice as tall. Pillars the size of oak trees rose up, covered in more snake carvings embedded with yet more emeralds.
Her awe made the place less threatening. Whether that was just because of her mindset, or if the magical chamber sensed her opinion was a moot point. Either way she walked and spun down the center aisle without worry, not wanting to miss a single angle of the shimmering scape.
"More snakes," she mumbled, passingly wondering if this chamber had once been a cult gathering of some sort. "The bearer of knowledge, the poisoned fruit…"
She stopped as she reached a pool of water at the end of the passage, looking up at a large carving of a bearded wizard. His chest was puffed with pride and his mouth was open as though in preparation to give an announcement of great importance… but somehow, his face just reminded her of a chimpanzee. "Wonder who you were."
A waft of cinnamon and a squeak distracted Zoey from her finding, making her turn away from the ancient carving. "Raz?"
This time the murtlap actually had gotten himself stuck, his front half partway through a shadowed grate. His back legs scrambled for a push hold but the one-way nature of his spikes made retreat impossible, and he squeaked pitifully at his own predicament. As Zoey walked to get him her light revealed a door that had been casually tucked in the shadows, the latch unlocked and actually a bit ajar.
Zoey walked inside and grabbed Rasputin's tiny paws from the front, tugging him free with a wet squelch. He clambered up her arms and licked her once with gratitude before jumping back to the ground, leaving greasy footprints.
"That was intentional, wasn't it?" she groused as she looked at the grime he'd transferred all down her front. She'd swear his tail flicked in a very self-satisfied manner, but Rasputin didn't respond other than that.
Another torch lit on it's own, and after she'd blinked the spots out of her eyes she could see that this new room was a octagon. No, wait- the Ravenclaw counted again- a septagon. At the corners were narrow passages to yet more rooms, illuminated by the glowing torch hovering over a stone table in the very center of the space. The brick-and-mortar walls were replaced by carved white marble, with black symbols etched in them.
Zoey recognized some of the writing as runes, embedded with a magic that made her eyes strain to read even a single line. The others were in different languages, some blocked and square, others angled and overlapping itself, and still more…
One type of scrypt, a curved and sliding one that resembled cursive, and been burned off. The wall itself was warped as though an inexplicable force had managed to melt solid stone.
Not inexplicable, the Malam had to remind herself, just very powerful "Magic."
She turned in another circle, glanced at the still-open door and grate she and Raz had come through, then walked down one of the passages. It led to a near identical room with the same setup, but this room had two charred walls instead of one.
Curiosity incited, Zoey started to walk faster and faster, her broom still in hand. Some rooms had two burns, others one or three- two of them were unmarred and one had five walls of ruined texts, but she figured out the pattern soon enough.
Pausing to catch her breath, Zoey looked at this latest room to confirm. Some of the runic writing had been burned, but all of the squiggly text had been seared away. "What's so different about you?" she wondered, touching a stray letter that had survived the damage.
Rasputin leaned in and sniffed as well, but his senses were no more informative than hers had been.
When she turned away from the wall Zoey paused as she realized this room was different from the others. Beside the center table, a marble statue was poised. The same man from the previous room was standing in far less ceremonial robes, dressed simpler and the stone beard- which had touched the ground in the larger chamber- thrown over the sharp shoulder as though to stay out of his way when he walked.
The angular pedestal of the statue- she hadn't seen all the sides yet but going with the theme she'd also guess it was septagonal- had a plaque and a name.
"Salazar." She read aloud, the name tickling her memory. Zoey's head snapped up and she ran around the room to get a better look at the face. "You're Salazar Slytherin?"
Zoey Malam was eager to get a better look at the countenance of a Hogwarts founder. She wondered if the sculptor would have caught his finer details, shown the facial mars and blemishes or instead glossed over them as older artists had been prone to do. So far the young Ravenclaw was pleasantly surprised that this statue was standing in a more relaxed posture, as though it wasn't truly posing at the moment. She wondered if his eyebrows were as long as his beard, and expected he at least had a crooked nose. Most people in the medieval ages got punched in the face at least once in their life.
What she did not expect was for the stone face to turn and look back at her, or for the marble mouth to move and answer her passing query in a heavy accent. "That I am."
The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was full of secrets. Secrets that it guarded well. Zoethia Malam believed the school itself had an awareness- and whether or not that was right, it was certainly true that it would take even a worthy individual a lifetime to learn every one of Hogwarts' undisclosed aspects.
The young Mauraders, in making their map of Hogwarts, had certainly discovered more about their school than any previous students. Or teachers. Or ghosts, as few of them had any interest in the inanimate. There was, however, one being that had been to every nook and cranny of the ancient school.
That being, of course, was a certain blue-skinned individual that had deemed himself The Master of Mischief and Mayhem. Who steadfastly refused to find another abode to haunt. Who, at this very moment, was having trouble remembering what had happened to his gobstones.
Peeves the Poltergeist of Hogwarts floated alone in the trophy room, upside down in the air as he pondered. He liked gobstones. Gobstones were fun. They made people smelly- that's what made them fun. They were almost as good as dungbombs.
He giggled under his breath as thought of the wizarding world's more recent prank supply.
Inspired, the blue poltergeist reached to his right, into a pocket of vanished space that always followed him. His hand grabbed what he found in there and pulled it out of thin air, and Peeves frowned. He didn't want a walking stick! The centuries-old being pouted and threw it over his shoulder. He wanted a- a-
-A gobstone! That was right! He put the cane away and reached for another of the many vanished storages around him. Peeves passingly counted the number of canes, dungbombs, chicken feathers and various other things that he had stashed away for situations just such as this.
This situation, the poltergeist thought without realizing that he'd completely forgotten his mission mere minutes before, where Bwue had been hurt, and that was not allowed. That was not right. He needed to get back at- at a- a weasel!
Peeves frowned as even his fractured mind realized that didn't make much sense, and then he remembered. Not A weasel, the Weezle girl! Nosy-Rosy!
Nosy-Rosy had had a friend protecting her the first time he'd gone after her, but not the second time! Oh no, this morning Peeves had been extra careful to make sure nobody saw him set up the gobstone circles around her room. Little Nosy woke up to a nasty surprise, she did. Very fun to watch, Peeves remembered smugly.
Then he drooped, an odd sensation since drooping 'down' floated the inverted poltergeist a few inches closer to the ceiling. He'd used all his gobstones. All he had now were muggle marbles, and he usually lost those.
Peeves needed to get more gobstones. How many did he have? He reached into another pocket, grabbing a handle and pulling the item out.
Now, not being truly alive, the poltergeist of Hogwarts had limited senses. Peeves didn't have much of a sense of 'touch' beyond knowing something was there, he couldn't see to the horizon, taste was nonexistent for him and his hearing was about that of an eighty year old's. Why else would he always be yelling?
But even with his muted smell, the blue poltergeist gagged for a moment at what was in his own hands. He looked down at the basket and saw- eggs! He had eggsies! How long had it been since he'd used eggsies?
Peeves's grin split like a knife upon his face and he flew away, eager to use them.
Flying! Soaring! Peeves cackled with glee as he rushed through the school, looking for little Nosy. The basket tipped a few times in his haste, and the retching gags of students fleeing from the stench of long-rotten eggs trailed in the wake of his laughter.
He was going to the- where was he going? He paused, a few more eggs flying forward and to the ground from his momentum. What would be the most fun?
Um… ickle firsties! They were fun!
Pleased with the plan, Peeves rushed to the Great Hall. He turned invisible with a thought, giggling as he maneuvered the basket- still very visible- around the floating candles. He'd only have time for one or two throws before someone called in McGonagall or Bloody Baron, so he'd have to make them count.
Who first, who first?
Hm… lets see… there was the little bronze birdies, working on homework. Bleagh. Homework was boring. He moved away from Ravenclaw table as though boredom was catching.
Lets see- the green snakies! Peeves grinned and grabbed an egg out of his basket, preparing to throw it with precision aim into a goblet when-
A spell fzzed by him close enough to curl his pointed shoes, and Peeves jumped as one of the candles next to him disappeared in a miniature implosion. His eyes were wide as he looked down to see that in the sea of hundreds of silly oblivious students, there was one not-so oblivious student looking up at him and his basket.
The invisible poltergeist paled as he recognized who it was. It was Priscilla. NOT a Silly Student. A very Mean student.
He rushed to the opposite side of the great Hall.
Hrm, Gryffindors. Much better. Peeves liked Gryffindors. He really liked the two dopplegangers a little while back, the red haired ones. They were fun.
Decision made to play with the Gryffindors today, Peeves looked at his options. There was Daniel the Boy Head, urm Rose Weezle, and a group of firsties and- Rose Weezle, and the Leaning Derving girl and- why did he feel like throwing his precious eggs at Rose Weezle?
Peeves tilted his head, a niggling sensation at the back of his mind not enough to let him truly remember but enough to make him follow through on the instinct.
He carefully positioned himself above the girl, who was trying to talk to someone that obviously wasn't interested.
"C'mon Albus," she was saying, "I've already said I was sorry. What can I do to make it better?"
The boy mumbled something under his breath and got to his feet, obviously intending to leave.
"What, that's it? You're just going to- to run away from me the way you've been running from James all semester?"
Albus Severus Potter paused, obviously taking offense to that. "I'm not 'running' from anything."
Nosy-Rosy scoffed. "Oh really? Then what would you call it?"
"... a strategic maneuver."
"Riiiight. How's that been working out for you the past three months? Or should I stick the summer into that and say seven? 'Cuz a strategy is 'a plan of action or a policy designed to achieve a major or overall aim', Albus. You're little silent treatment against James never worked, and it's not gonna work on me either."
He tapped on his fingers on his bag in silent contemplation., then he glanced at her hopeful face and raised an eyebrow. "You know, Rose, it would be really nice if instead of goading me into a conversation you actually came up with your own way to make amends."
"I… That… Albus, I-"
Whatever Rose Weasley might have said was never discovered as Peeves lost interest in the conversation. And so, with experienced precision the poltergeist plucked one of his aged eggs like it was a delicate flower and let go. It didn't just hit her, oh no- it hit the Nosy Weezle on the head in the exact right spot to not only crack on impact, but for the rotten ooze to drip down her forehead and over her face.
Her shriek was drowned out by the echoing cries of her house, rushing away from the stench even a single projectile emitted.
Peeves cackled maniacally, pleased at his success. That was fun!
Let's do it again.
He pulled out some more eggs, tossing them at fleeing students and into goblets but always finding himself centering back on Rose Weezle, hitting her once or twice between every one of his other targets.
This was so much fun! Peeves laughed some more, then checked to see how many of his eggs he had left.
His moment of distraction cost him dearly as James Sirius Potter- as always fiercely protective of his family- cast a spell at the only part of the poltergeist which was visible to his victims: the basket. With blast of magic he shoved it out of Peeves' hands and through the air, ripping the aged wicker in half and making a mess, but saving his Housemate's and more importantly Rose from any further torment.
Peeves' wail echoed and he became visible. His eggs! All of his eggs were now gone because he'd put them in one basket! He grabbed the belled ends of his hat and angrily pulled in opposite directions. They should warn people about things like that!
This wasn't fun. This wasn't fun at all. He blew a raspberry at James- and another at Rosy because he felt like it- and left, followed by the angry jeers of the students he'd tormented.
He flew through a wall then turned around and kicked it. He liked that basket, why would they break it? And yell at him? He was just- just playing…
His fragmented mind overlapped with a multitude of emotional options. He could be mad about his basket. Sad about the eggs. Confused about his own fixation on Rose Weezle. Hurt by the rejection of the Hogwarts students. Who, when all was said and done, he really did want to be liked by. But even those sensations were fleeting and so he was left with one conclusion.
That was no fun. At. All. Peeves grabbed the end of his coat. He needed to do something really fun, he decided. With someone nice. Someone that liked him. Like, um, like Bwue!
Yeah, yeah… he'd go find Bwue! Bwue was nice. She called him a- a… a sweet pie, he smiled as he remembered, and went to follow the feel of her magic.
"In conclusion," Odetta Oakinson said, standing atop a bench in the locker room to give herself a much-needed height advantage over her Slytherin peers. "We know Gryffindor is good. And James may be the fastest flyer in the school, but we can work around that. Try to slow him down, but take care of yourself- this is still a scrimmage, after all. A season-ending injury here would be just plain stupid."
"And BECAUSE this is a scrimmage," she went on, her tone turning to a warning, "Anything we do tomorrow won't be as effective for the real season. So we're gonna keep the game vanilla. Only use basic plays. If that costs us the match, so be it."
Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy stood at the back of his teammates and rolled his eyes at the murmurs of dissent from the starting chasers.
"Our goal is the Quidditch Cup, not to burn out early in a blaze of glory that nobody remembers." Her tone made her own distaste of that possibility palpable, and the team-for the briefest of moments- unified in agreement.
"Starters, I want you in bed by ten. And don't give me that look McNair," Odetta chided her star Chaser, "We all know that if we let the rest of the House question us about quidditch we won't go to bed till three in the morning. And since I want every one of you back in here for warmups by seven thirty, that doesn't leave much time for your beauty sleep."
"More's the pity," Francis muttered, sitting in the groups of reserves. He spoke at just the right tone to carry and for the team to laugh at the light joke, relieving the tension that had built.
Odetta let the laughter die down before she spoke. "All right Starters, hit the showers. Reserves, if I could have a moment?"
Scorpius settled in again as the starters shuffled out, particularly watching the Chasers thumping fists and shoulders in a very bravado manner. They were all at least five eight and weighed over two hundred pounds. In contrast the reserves, who like himself were slighter framed. Even after a light practice against the starters he was once again sporting a fresh series of bruises. Had Scorpius expected his teammates to go easy on him because of what was going on in his homelife, he would have been sorely disappointed.
As it were, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy had held no such illusions whence coming to practice and had indeed been looking forward to a bodily match that offered a welcome distraction and goal. He'd led the reserves in a stellar mimic of the Gryffindor playing style, and in his personal opinion Slytherin would easily win tomorrow if they used their Captain's new strategy.
Odetta was right, however, that tomorrow's scrimmage was a battle worth losing to win a war. And as his first official year on the team Scorpius was determined to aid Slytherin House win the Quidditch Cup.
"Alright you guys," the captain spoke after her starters had left, looking at the reserves with the same authority. "Like I said, tomorrow is all about learning. So, I want all of you to keep your eyes on the whole field, look for gaps in their strategy and ours. Scorpius-"
Were he not a Malfoy he might have started in surprise at being called out. As it were, he kept impeccable composure and only blinked once under the sudden attention of his captain and the other reserves.
"I've been looking at your game notes. They're really good- almost as good as mine. I'll make some too of course, but I'm going to actually be in the game and looking for the snitch. So here-" she pulled out her spiral and held it to him. "I'm counting on you to write down everything you see as it happens."
Scorpius was not able raise his head nor puff his chest with pride as a Malfoy always held themself with the impeccable poise of a Pureblood, so instead he allowed a small, rare smile to grace his features. From a glorified ball chaser to an official reserve and now to co-strategist with the Captain in a single season. It was about time things started changing around here. He took the green-leatherbound book and kept a firm grip, looking from Odetta to the other reserves.
Originally, he'd disapproved of the notion for the Quidditch team even having 'reserves'. Slytherin should only work with the best, not flounder about with second pickings that only hovered for overflow prestige. Now that he'd worked with them though, he knew they, like himself, didn't just aim for their own success one day but instead for the betterment of their colleagues. They didn't follow around like a fanclub or just participate in the workout, they practiced hard and did their best to be strong opponents to bring the entire team up a level.
…well, most of them worked hard, Scorpius corrected with a glance at the reserve Keeper. Marik Tybalt was conceited and sloppy at best. He only hoped their real keeper, Diane, would never be injured, because without her topnotch skills the team would be crippled.
Seeing the mix of pride and jealousy that his teammates felt at his task, Scorpius set out to fix that. He had no desire for any further disharmony on the team.
"Cromase," He called out to his fellow chaser reserve. "Make sure you bring some paper too. I'll probably dictate as much as I write."
Francis Cromase, unlike Scorpius, did give a jolt at being called out. Then he grinned and nodded firmly. "You can count on me."
Odetta hummed slightly as she realized the motivation of what Scorpius had just done and looked at him for a moment, then addressed the group again. "That's it today. Hit the showers and get your dinners. Oh and one of you boys make certain McNair gets to bed on time- we already lost Jackson and Bulstrode to Sybble's suspension, we don't need any players napping on the pitch tomorrow."
The marble statue continued moving after his first words, setting his arms up his sleeves and the entire base twisting on the floor so that he was facing her.
Rasputin jumped and hissed at it, his striped spikes puffing threateningly as he moved in front of Zoey.
The statue scoffed lightly. "I am made of stone, creature. Surely you realize that those are useless upon me."
The spikes settled, but the murtlap continued to growl and bare fangs. He only stopped to climb up Zoey's pants and perch on her shoulder.
"Salazar Slytherin. The Salazar Slytheirn." Zoey mumbled, then grinned and walked up to the statue as she asked everything that came to mind. "You're animate! Like portraits! I knew it was possible for a bust to talk- though, you're bigger than a bust. But you're smaller in here than the you outside. Ooh does that one move too? How are you moving? Is it something similar to the way chess pieces move on a board? Hey- how did you talk? You're mouth moved, but there's no way the sculptor was able to give you lungs. Wait… how do you see?" She waved a hand in front of the smooth eyes.
Marble fingers rose to pinch the bridge of a slightly-crooked nose. "One of Rowena's lads, I see. Well, hurry up. Tell me the year."
"Oh- oh right! You probably can't tell time down here. Wow that must be lonely. How long has it been?"
The lips twitched in mild amusement and he said patiently "That is what I am trying to ascern, lad."
"Right, right. It's 2020." Zoey paused, then repeated "Lad?"
"Eighty years then. Seventy-six to be more precise." He did the math easily, and then looked her up and down. "A Ravenclaw this time, then. The last lad was one of mine. A True Slytherin."
"...what made him a 'true' Slytherin'?" she asked, remembering that people made that comment often among Hogwarts Houses. She was having trouble understanding parts of his old English accent, but the more they spoke the easier it got.
"He was clever. Determined. He wouldn't let anything stop his goals. In the three years he knew of The Chamber he learned much." the statue turned to one of the damaged walls with a frown. "Then he burned everything he'd learned so that no one else would learn those secrets."
"Oh- oh! Then these are- what? Lessons?" Zoey looked at the walls with new interest.
"Indeed. The strongest magic I, and my cofounders, mastered. As well as a few of Rowena and Helga's basic techniques which I found important to the safety and growth of students."
"What about Gryffindor's?"
The stone face couldn't move much, but it tilted in a way that Zoey expected would become a frown if it could. "... his few worthwhile points for contribution are included, yes."
Huh. So the original Slytherin and Gryffindor really hadn't get along. Zoey would have pegged that as just a false rumor facilitated by the rivalry between the current students.
"So…" Zoey asked curiously, looking at the walls herself. "So, why did you leave all this stuff down here? I mean… why not put these carvings in the Great Hall?"
The statue tilted his head minutely as though the question had a complicated answer. "These magics are power itself. Not every child, even with the purest blood, is worthy to learn them. Many who try will go mad or die."
Zoey ignored the allusion to Pureblood supremacy- she never paid attention to that anyways. She was more concerned by the potential lethality of the texts surrounding her. "So, what? The gooey bathroom slide and snake doors were a test?"
"One that not many have passed over the last millennia. And to my discredit, only a handful of which were Parseltongues."
"Papermouthwhatnow?"
"Par-sel-tongue." He overpronounciated, which didn't actually help much through his accent. "Snake-speakers. And whenupon a level of power is achieved, controllers. Like myself."
Her mind came up with the image of Salazar wearing a turban and charming a snake with a flute, and Zoey had to bite the inside of her cheek very, very hard to keep herself from breaking out in laughter. "That- um, that's unique."
"Indeed. It, like a multitude of magics, is an inherited skill." He looked her over again and added for the record "That entrance, when I made it, was a trapdoor. Then Hogwarts accommodated muggle piping and decided the seemingly empty room was ideal for a bathroom. Cornivus Gaunt- my only pupil at the time- was not skilled enough for a relocation, and so was forced to disguise it. In a girl's bathroom."
"... through the sewage pipes." Zoey finished, smiling at bit as she recognized his frustration. Salazar Slytherin, building a secret classroom for the strongest and what he probably considered the most noble of magics for 'the few worthy students'... could now only be visited through a bathroom. And a girl's bathroom at that. That had to chafe his Slytherin pride. Or- would it be just plain normal pride, since he was Slytherin?"
Sure enough he changed the subject. "You seem to have several questions, lad. Perhaps you should move on to more relevant ones."
"So…" she obliged him, thinking back to the whole snake-charmer thing. "That's it? Unless you're born with the ability to talk to snakes, you'll never be able to? That seems weird. How then could the first person had learned it? There's always a first. I don't believe the whole chicken-and-egg thing. Or- phoenix and flame."
"There is the Enchantment of Tongues." He gestured to one of the walls of runic text. "An equally innate skill for some, it allows you to speak with anything. Well, anything magical that is."
"Ah. So, for example, I couldn't go to China or Taiwan and use it to speak to muggles. Or to talk to a plant or a rock."
Salazar's eyes narrowed. "It also requires a certain degree of intelligence in the receiving party. You might have a chance with the plant."
This time, the insult made Zoey match his expression. While she did not care if people had superiority complexes, she loved her muggle Aunt and Uncle very much and would not let anyone belittle them. Not even a Founder of Hogwarts.
Before she could answer though cackling laughter bounced off the walls, shortly followed by a careening blur of blue-and-maroon that burst into the septagonal room like a hurricane.
"Peeves?" Zoey said in surprise, stepping back to make space for the poltergeist to settle. "What are you doing here?"
Rasputin- had he the gift of Tongues- would have commented that it was odd for his Second Master to be rattled by a poltergeist she knew but completely unphased by a moving, talking statue. Instead the Albanian Murtlap was forced to settle for a sneeze in the poltergeist's general direction.
"Found Bwue!" Peeves declared happily, then asked in an echoing whisper "What's Bwue doing in Secret place?"
"Exploring." she smiled, then laughed. "Of course you'd know the way here already. Hey, have you met Salazar?"
"Saladzar!" he cried and spun upside down before tipping his hat to the statue, saying with a bouncing rhythm "Many a millen-i-a since I've last seen-i-ya!"
"Pev?" The statue said with a touch of confusion. "You're- bluer than I saw you last."
"Peeves wasn't always blue?"
"Not at all. And I believe his name is 'Pev'."
"Ah. Well, no wonder people started calling him 'Peeves' instead. He can be a peeve. Not all the time though, though most people don't seem to get that. And really, he's very fun to be around. My first friend at Hogwarts." She smiled fondly as she remembered the day she'd stood on the banister.
Salazar Slytherin's statue tilted his head at her, not recognizing the meaning of a word that hadn't existed in his era. "What is a 'peeve'?"
"It- it's a, uh-" Zoey blushed to her ears, not wanting to define the insulting word with the poltergeist himself right in front of them. She looked at him nervously, but he seemed not to care about the topic. Instead he was righting himself in the air and squaring up to face the marble statue.
"Peeves," He defined himself with great bravado and importance, "Is a Sweet Pie."
Rasputin made a hacking wheeze that sounded very similar to a laugh and Zoey shushed him while trying to stifle her own amusement. "That- that's absolutely right Peeves."
The poltergeist beamed.
Salazar hummed under his breath, then the topic of names made him realize that he had his own query. "So what is your name, lad?"
"Zoethia Malam. But everyone calls me Zoey. And- I'm a girl, not a 'lad'."
Once again the marble features made his expression hard to read, but the tone of his voice was undeniable. "A lady? In that attire?"
"Hey, you try looking perfect after crawling through a cave-in after sliding down a bathroom pipe." Zoey looked down at herself, silently blaming Rasputin once again for the worst of the fresh stains. "Oh- oh wait, you mean the pants. Yeah, girls wear pants now. It's normal."
"Is that not a disgrace?"
Rasputin, tired of hearing this rock's disapproval of his Second Master, started growling at the statue again.
"Nope. In fact, it's functional. It's got pockets." Zoey grinned and displayed them, then added "Plus, it's pretty hard to ride a broom in a skirt. I don't know how to sidesaddle."
Salazar just shook his head and mumbled something under his breath about the changing times. "Well then- I suppose it's time for your first lesson."
"My what?" Zoey asked, frowning and starting to panic. "Wait wait wait- you just said that people have died doing this stuff! Or gone mad! I'm already crazy enough and- and I'm terrible at magic!"
"False. You must have potential, otherwise you would not have made it all the way here. You're not a Parseltongue," He knew because she hadn't even known the word. "How did you get through an enchanted door?"
"I- I, uh…" she paused, looking between Peeves and the statue. She wasn't supposed to talk about her atypical abilities, but she supposed that neither of them would be able to tell anyone. "I don't know, exactly. I just… can."
"I know." The statue said with a trace of smugness.
"Of course you do."
Sarcasm, it seemed, had not existed in Salazar's era, for the statue straightened and preened at the compliment. "So, time for lesson one."
He raised a marble hand and snapped stone fingers. Zoey felt her heart sink as she heard, in the distance, the creak of closing hinges. She tried once more to reason with him. "That's it? You're just gonna keep me down here until I agree to learn from you? You have no idea who I am! For all you know I could be a- a murdering psychopath that wandered in here on accident, and you're about to teach me the most powerful magics of old!"
"Are you a murdering psychopath?"
"What- NO!" She cried, insulted that he'd actually seemed to think it possible. "I just- I didn't come here to learn."
"Then why are you at Hogwarts?"
"Well, yeah that's why I'm at Hogwarts- awesome school by the way good job making it love it all- but not here here. I was just exploring, it's Saturday night!"
"Wonderful. That means you won't have to be at class tomorrow, you'll have time to pass."
Zoey groaned, finally relenting to the inevitable.
The statue saw her surrender and smiled contentedly. "Lesson one, Malam. Persuasion."
"... Persuasion?"
"Indeed. Persuade me, young Sorceress, to let you leave now that you know of this place."
Aaaand that's a wrap!
Just so you know- part of the reason this was so late is because we are so excited for the next chapter we lost focus and ended up writing some of those scenes first. (anyone ever had that problem? Yea, nea...?) Thanks for the read and please review!
~E