For the disclaimer, see Prologue.
Chapter Two: New Student
Mirage touched its lips subconsciously; remembering the long kiss Master had placed upon them just a few hours ago. It stood on its own in a smallish room adjoined to the Great Hall at Hogwarts. There had been young kids there with it, but they had been called by a stern-looking woman into the Great Hall. Mirage had been instructed to wait until its name was called by Headmaster Dumbledore before stepping out of the room.
While it waited, it heard someone sing about the founders in a deep baritone. Names were called afterwards, followed by the same deep voice announcing which House every student would be in. Mirage remembered reading about the sorting hat in Hogwarts: A History, and wondered nervously which House it would be placed in.
A few more minutes elapsed and the lack of sound made Mirage's trepidation increase. A wave of applause suddenly broke the silence and when it quieted down the soft voice of Albus Dumbledore said:
"Before the banquet can begin, there is someone else we need to sort.
"This is something very unusual at a school like Hogwarts," explained the Headmaster. "But our Board of Governors has admitted a new student that will be starting in his sixth year," Mirage could hear the murmurs that arose at this information. "The new student's name is Mirage, and he had been home-schooled until now. He has approved his OWLs with top marks, and decided to join Hogwarts in order to better prepare for the NEWTs."
The stern-looking woman appeared again in the threshold of the room Mirage was waiting in.
"Come now," she said, urging it forward with an impatient beckoning of her hand, her mouth set in a rigid line.
Mirage pushed back its thin shoulders and gracefully entered the Great Hall, seeing for the first time the professors sitting at their table, Dumbledore in his podium and the tattered hat that lay over a small stool. The students were there as well; over three hundred of them, all looking at Mirage with inquisition in their faces. Some of them gasped and Mirage resisted the urge to lower its eyes, knowing it had no reason to be ashamed of wearing its choker for all to see.
"This is Mirage," said Dumbledore with a grandfatherly smile, gesturing in its direction with an extended hand. "I hope we can all get along. Now, Mirage, please sit," the old man invited, tilting his head in the direction of the stool.
The stern woman was now holding the hat, the frown still on her face. Mirage sat with the poise of a swan even though the stool was too short for its legs. It breathed in deeply as its eyesight was obscured by the hat being placed upon its head.
"What have we here?" spoke a voice in its mind that Mirage knew was the hat's. "This is most unusual. For a slave to be sorted… my, my, what will I ever do?"
«Is something wrong with this one?» asked Mirage in its thoughts, a cold weight setting in its chest.
"Yes and no," answered the hat pensively. "You are very good at what you are, no doubt, but have little to no personality traits other than your senses of servitude and devotion. You might have under different circumstances been someone but, as it is, are no-one, and I cannot sort someone whom is not."
«Is there anything this one can do to help?»
"Perhaps," reflected the hat. "I could certainly ask you some questions.
"Are you brave and daring? Are you smart and thirsty for knowledge? Are you friendly and loyal? Are you crafty and ambitious?"
«This one is whatever its Master wishes it to be,» answered Mirage truthfully.
"Lord Voldemort was once a Slytherin," conceded the hat. "But do you have what is needed to live amongst snakes?"
Feeling unsure, Mirage reached for its Master's presence in its mind.
"Alright then," acknowledged the hat, and then aloud:
"SLYTHERIN!" it shouted. Most of the students cheered.
When the sorting hat was removed from Mirage's head, it thought the stern witch's discontentment seemed deeper than before.
"Perfect!" exclaimed Dumbledore in his cheery voice. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Mirage! You may sit with your peers now."
Mirage walked to the Slytherin table, feeling slightly confused by what the hat had said but greatly proud of its Master's approval. The students greeted it with cautious smiles and nods. Mirage saw Draco Malfoy pat the bench beside him, inviting it to sit next to him, and so it did.
"Hullo," welcomed Draco, placing a hand on Mirage's shoulder. "I am sure you remember my name, and these," he gestured towards each in turn, "are Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. We will be your dorm-mates. All of us know who you are, so you can be sure none of us will mistreat you."
"You can trust us," said Crabbe, reaching for the sausages.
"This one is glad," answered Mirage, offering the coy smile people seemed to like the most.
The ones who were looking at its face stared.
"Are you part veela?" asked a girl whose name Mirage did not know.
"This one begs your pardon?" replied Mirage, mystified.
The girl lowered her eyes to Mirage's choker and smiled knowingly.
"I see," she said, and turned to speak with someone else.
"Pay her no mind," advised Draco. "She's a stupid bint."
Crabbe and Goyle nodded in unison.
"Master warned this one that people would not look highly upon this one's creature status."
"So you truly are part veela?" inquired Zabini.
"This one does not think so, no," said Mirage. "Rather, it does not understand why you would think such a thing."
"You speak funny," interrupted Goyle through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "Does our Lord make you?"
"What do you mean?"
"He means you say 'this one' rather than 'I' when referring to yourself," clarified Draco. "And because he's dense as a bludger, he can't understand why you would."
"Because this one is not its own, of course," explained Mirage patiently, looking in Goyle's direction. "This one is but a tool in its Master's hand."
"We're fine with that," said Zabini. "But you should consider changing it."
"Why?"
"The Gryffindors will take the piss," said Nott without looking up from a book he was reading. "They're all berks."
"They have no sense of honour," added Malfoy.
"Pure-bloods understand slavery for what it truly is," intervened a haughty-looking girl. "You may not be a true person, but if our Lord had a dog he esteemed, none of his followers would even think about kicking it."
"That has to be the worst bloody metaphor I've had the misfortune of hearing in my life," quipped Nott.
"Shut up, you pillock!" snapped the girl, blushing. Some giggled under their breath.
"Pansy is half right, though," said Draco. "If you were, say, Weasley's slave, you'd be ranked lower than a house elf."
Crabbe and Goyle laughed loudly.
"Who is Weasley?" asked Mirage.
"A Gryffindor bully," Zabini answered. "He and his sidekicks, Thomas and Finnigan, will seize every chance they get to make your life hell. Try not to walk the hallways alone."
Mirage turned to Draco with big, questioning green eyes.
"The male red-head," whispered Malfoy next to its ear while discretely pointing his fork in the boy's general direction.
The Weasley boy was guffawing at something, the kids nearby laughing as well.
"Why are Gryffindors so stupid?" wondered Draco aloud. "We could all be good friends if they had a semblance of wits."
Everyone within hearing-range laughed and Mirage found it was smiling even though it didn't get the joke.
"You'll see, Mirage. I'll personally make sure you have fun this year."
Mirage was looking forward to it. Its hesitation was actually turning into excitement. There were kids sitting all around, devouring their food and laughing and speaking. Because it was so silent, the boys soon began turning more to one another and less to it, but Mirage did not mind. It was unaccustomed to this type of friendly banter, to kids speaking. Paying attention seemed easier for now.
There was something else Mirage was feeling, but this scared it a little. For the first time it found itself surrounded by people and feeling part of the group.
Was this what it meant to be oneself? It wondered. To not feel as if you were watching from afar but part of what was happening instead?
Mirage had sat through meetings and participated in raids with the Death Eaters, of course, but when it had, it had always been following its Master's direct orders.
Pondering on this for a few minutes while munching on its food, Mirage realized it was even now doing what its Master wanted it to. It was supposed to become one of the students and carry its Master's orders when the occasion presented itself. The fact that it got to choose what to eat and whom to speak to was only part of the job.
"How do you like Hogwarts so far, Mirage?" Nott asked suddenly, and Mirage realized he had been sort of silent as well.
"It is very… welcoming, this one thinks. The food is good and ―" it shut its mouth and frowned.
"Something wrong?"
"This one was about to say it liked it here, but…" Mirage eyed Nott cautiously. He was paying it attention, his book nowhere in sight, and his grey eyes did not reflect any malice. "It would have been disrespectful to my Master, to suggest this one enjoyed itself when he is not present."
"I find it hard to believe that our Lord would prohibit you from having fun," answered Nott, taking a portion of one of the desserts that had just appeared before them.
"He did not. Master is very kind to this one, but Master appreciates my being loyal to him at all times."
Nott seemed about to say something else, but Draco interrupted:
"Here, Mirage," he said, holding a spoonful of something next to its face. "Try the pumpkin crumble."
Mirage opened its mouth automatically and ate the morsel. It was quite good.
"Hmn, thanks, Draco."
Draco smirked smugly and turned away.
Nott had resumed his reading of the book when Mirage looked at him again, and it felt a bit bad for having missed the chance to speak with him some more. It seemed too rude to interrupt someone whom is reading though, so it ate its dessert silently.
A few minutes passed and the first students began standing from their places and going to their respective common rooms.
"We should be going," announced Draco, standing and placing his hand on Mirage's shoulder again. Crabbe and Goyle stood as well, as did most of the higher-level Slytherin students. "Wouldn't want to be late."
"Late?" questioned Mirage, standing itself.
The boys exchanged amused looks. Zabini winked.
"This one does not understand."
"You'll see," said Goyle as the group began walking towards the dungeons.
"I promised you'd have fun, didn't I?" said Draco, smirking meaningfully.
Mirage didn't know what to think.
As the students walked, they chatted and joked and laughed. Mirage was silent and felt a little awkward and apprehensive. Draco had not removed his hand from its shoulder, and Mirage was beginning to wonder whether the young blond was planning on fucking it or if it was just for guidance, or maybe as an effort to give some encouragement?
They reached the Dungeon entrance and Draco declaimed the password (Anguis!) in a poetry-reader voice that made Mirage snigger.
The Dungeon was beautiful and stylish, was the first thing Mirage thought. There were enormous curved windows through which the teal-green waters of the Black Lake could be seen. Small and medium tables as well as couches were placed here and there, and the numerous dark green draperies that hung from the vaulted stone ceiling had been charmed to wave lazily, giving the whole room an underwater feel.
"Impressed?" asked Crabbe, noting Mirage's awe. "Wait till you see the bedroom."
The teens began moving the couches around, pushing several towards a corner. Mirage stood nearby, not knowing how it was expected to act.
"Come," invited Nott simply, sitting on a settee himself. Mirage joined him.
"What is happening?" it asked in a whisper.
"Party," murmured Nott back, pretending to read the book. "Better get used."
It made sense now, and Mirage felt its shoulders sag slightly in relief.
"So," said Draco, sprawling over one of the couches. "We cannot take the bevvies out yet. Exploding Snap?"
The agreement was voiced, and soon the group was gathered around a table. Mirage did not know how to play at first, but was rapidly getting the knack of it. The games were interrupted some twenty minutes later when Professor Snape stepped into the Dungeon.
"First years," he said. "I have to make a speech of sorts, so pay attention.
"You are now part of the Slytherin House. Be aware of what that means: Slytherin is family. More so than any of the other Houses. You shall never turn your backs on your housemates, for our strength lies in unity.
"Be proud, and carry yourselves accordingly. This House has much to offer, it is up to you whether you seize those opportunities or not.
"Trust one another, and turn to the prefects or myself if you are in trouble or need. Be welcome."
All as one, the Slytherins clapped and cheered their Head of House. Mirage realized they felt a deep respect for the professor.
Turning his head towards the corner at which the higher-level students were assembled, Snape added:
"Try not to do today what you will regret about tomorrow," after which he turned around and left the room in a billowing of black fabric.
"That's good 'ol Snape for you," commented Zabini, shuffling the card deck.
"Show-off," muttered Pansy Parkinson.
"So let's get this started," said Draco, gesturing for Crabbe and Goyle, who promptly stood and went to the dormitories.
Parkinson clapped excitedly and stood.
"We'll take care of the music, then. Let's go, Lys," she and a girl with long, curly hair left the room as well.
"Aren't you going to introduce the new boy?" asked a young man Mirage did not know.
"Right," addressed Draco, sitting straight and clearing his throat to get everyone's attention. "See here, this is Mirage. You may have seen him before, if you're Death Eaters. I don't really know much about him, but will take the liberty of inviting you all to speak to him if you want."
Smiles, nods and hand-waves were sent in its direction. Mirage smiled shyly back.
"Hello, Mirage," greeted a bloke with long straight hair, sitting across from it. "I'm Valerius Blishwick, seventh year," he offered Mirage his hand to shake. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Likewise," replied Mirage, shaking the hand with as much confidence as it could muster; not accustomed to anyone greeting it formally. "How do you do?" it thought to add.
"How do you do?" answered Blishwick back, smiling. "Any thoughts on being placed in Slytherin?"
"This one likes it. Everyone seems friendly, and the atmosphere in general is very welcoming."
"It would be. Though you should know we are not as nice to the other Houses' members. Slytherins stick together, yes, but sometimes it feels as if everyone else is against us."
"Don't let Val misguide you," stepped in a girl with goth makeup. "Make sure you deserve it when they mess with you, or it won't be any fun."
"Dammit, Elena, you had to stick your nose in, didn't you?"
"Well duh," answered her, rolling her eyes and sitting in Blishwick's couch armrest. "Now, you say your name is Mirage?" she turned to it. "What sort of bloody name is that?"
"It's the one my Master gave me," replied Mirage simply. "May this one know yours?"
"Elena Coleman," she said dismissively. "And you mentioned a Master there, is that the reason you wear a collar?"
"You're being rude," warned Nott from somewhere behind his book.
"Better get used to it, newbie," she advised. "I don't make a habit out of being polite."
"Or… you can just ignore her, the way most of us do," remarked Blishwick, grabbing a beer from Goyle.
"Anyways," Coleman continued, ignoring them all herself. "You have a master, or so you say. Can you tell us some more?"
Mirage noticed the teens nearby were paying attention and pretending not to.
"The easiest way to explain it is saying this one is a slave," stated Mirage calmly.
"Whose?" asked a bespectacled boy.
"Lord Voldemort's," said Millicent Bulstrode with an air of self-importance.
Silence greeted the declaration.
Mirage was left alone after this. Nott was still sitting beside it, but kept submerged in his book, barely there. Draco approached Mirage once to offer it a drink, which it declined, and seemed to immediately lose interest. As soon as music began playing, the kids felt less inclined to laze in the corner and took to dancing and drinking and kissing.
Mirage watched them for maybe half an hour, feeling out of place.
"Don't know about you, but I'll go unpack," announced Nott suddenly, standing and heading towards the bedroom without a backward glance. Mirage decided that would probably be more productive than spying the Mulciber boy dance with two girls at the same time and followed him.
The dormitory was very similar to the Dungeon: spacious, with green-canopied beds and lush algae languidly moving to and fro at the other side of the windows. Mirage spotted its trunk next to one of the beds and made its way towards it. It touched the lock with its wand and muttered a word in parseltongue to open its lid. Carefully, with reverent hands, Mirage extracted a portrait and took it to the wall directly above its bed's headboard.
"Colgare," it ordered, holding the portrait by the frame against the wall at a convenient height. A jolt of something akin to electricity travelled up its arm.
"What are you doing?" asked Nott from somewhere behind it.
"This one is trying to place this here, but it won't stick," said Mirage, frowning.
"You cannot add portraits to the castle, it's dangerous," explained Nott. "I don't think she'll let you."
"This one is sure it can," countered Mirage determinedly. Breathing deeply, it closed its eyes and let down its occlumentic barriers. «What should this one do, Master?» it thought.
Voldemort's overwhelming presence filled its mind. Mirage moaned and shivered, not having felt it this strongly in years. It was dimly aware of someone asking after its wellbeing somewhere faraway but could not concentrate on the voice; its Master the only thing in its mind at the moment.
"Can't she see it's me?" pondered Voldemort, seeing through Mirage's eyes. "Raise your wand again, pet. Use something dark."
"Adherebunt aeternum!" enchanted Mirage, pressing its wand-tip to the ornate frame. Hogwarts' magic recoiled at the sheer force of the spell, pushing back a second later but unable to counter Mirage's dark energy.
"Well done, pet. You please Master."
Mirage sat panting on the bed, admiring the painting in the wall while re-constructing its mental shields.
"What just happened?" asked Nott.
"Oh, nothing much," disregarded Mirage, smirking. "Just adding some decorations."
In the painting, a basilisk coiled and hissed.