Chapter 45 – A House Divided
As the week progressed, the furor over Harry's actions the night of the Ministry dustup began to wane. The event was still talked of in great detail and Harry and his two lady friends still received many looks and gestures, but the behavior was not as overt as it had been when the news first broke. To a certain extent speculation began to turn to the fate of those Death Eaters who had been captured during the event, with those such as Malfoy, who had a personal stake in the matter, seemingly waiting impatiently for news that their fathers had been released. The rest of the school seemed to be divided in their opinions. Those among the Death Eaters who had been part of the escape from Azkaban several months earlier seemed destined to return there as soon as may be arranged. Because the Wizengamot had opted for the use of Veritaserum, it seemed likely that the others would join them. However, as a credit to most of the student body, most seemed to understand that even if they were returned to Azkaban, that Voldemort would just bide his time and then swoop in and release them, much as he had done before. This led to rumors, ranging from suspicion that the Ministry had created another holding area for convicted Death Eaters, to speculation that the Death Eaters would be returned to Azkaban, but that the Ministry was setting up a trap to catch the Dark Lord when he arrived to free his minions.
Harry did not know for certain what would happen. Sirius had been close-mouthed about the doings of the Wizengamot, only stating that yes, Madam Bones and the Chief Warlock were aware of the danger of simply locking them back up in Azkaban again, but that there had not been any discussion as to their ultimate fate.
Sirius had been away for a good part of the week due to his duties in the Wizengamot, though they had not had to go without a professor. The headmaster had requested—and been granted—a junior Auror from the Ministry to stand in on those occasions when Sirius was not available. Auror Dixon did not teach the subject in as interesting or lighthearted a manner as Sirius was wont to, but he was clearly competent and understood the concepts, so Harry found that he could not complain.
The decrease in attention—though Harry could never say that it was completely gone—was welcome to Harry. He had always been uncomfortable with it, though he was learning to use it to his advantage in certain circumstances. But now, with his time taken up by prefect duties, Quidditch practice, school work, and the Defense club, not to mention the time spent with two attractive young witches, it was just as well that he did not have to look over his shoulder quite so much.
Of course, Malfoy was still a problem, as he and Hermione had discussed only the night before. Though he had seen Malfoy's attention switching to Hermione more and more throughout the course of the year, she was now clearly in his sights, and none of his attention was good.
And what was even more concerning about the situation was the fact that he made no overt moves. Malfoy's defining characteristic—other than perhaps his blatant bigotry and contempt for those he considered beneath him—was his inability to hold his tongue. In fact, Harry had often joked with Hermione that he seemed to have a more Gryffindor attitude than most Gryffindors. He charged ahead, spouting his Pureblood drivel loudly, attempting (and almost always failing) to hex others at the first sign that events were not going in his favor, never bothering to conceal his opinions in the slightest, except in those situations where he might be punished by a professor. Now, however, he made no obvious moves. He sat back and watched, and unless Harry misunderstood him completely, plotted and planned. Whatever had happened during the Yule holiday had at least induced him to be a little less obvious in his prejudices.
Harry was concerned. If the snake had finally grown a set of fangs, it was almost certain in Harry's mind that he would try something. It was possible that whatever he eventually tried would be something in the nature of a schoolyard retaliation for the grievances he carried, but Harry did not think so. Given the diatribes the ponce had spouted off in previous years, and the hatred he now so blatantly directed at Hermione in particular, Harry was very much afraid that his ultimate move would be one which was intended to do far more than cause Hermione discomfort or humiliation.
But thus far there was nothing to be done. Dumbledore's eyes had narrowed when Harry had explained the matter to him, on the rare occasion that the Headmaster had been in the castle that week.
"I understand your concerns, Harry, and I would be lying if I said it did not share them," the ancient wizard said, while passing a weary hand over his eyes. "But for the moment you must be patient."
"Why?" Harry demanded.
"Because to this point Draco has done nothing," Dumbledore responded. "You simply cannot convict someone for acts which he has not committed. It is a very slippery slope to a police state, or worse, should we begin incarcerating anyone who was even thinking of committing a crime."
"Couldn't we give him Veritaserum or something?" Harry's suggestion was a trifle plaintive, even to his own ears. His worry over both girls, and Hermione specifically, considering Malfoy's behavior, was beginning to get to him. He simply could not lose either one of them!
"I cannot, Harry," said Dumbledore.
Harry moved to interject, but Dumbledore was firm. "I agree with your assessment of the situation, Harry, including your concerns about Draco." He stopped and sighed before speaking again. "It is to be pitied whenever someone travels the path of evil and bigotry, never to be recovered from it. I had hoped that young Mr. Malfoy could be persuaded from his father's path, and have instructed Severus to try to help him see reason. Of course, because Severus is in the position he is, he cannot be overt in his advice."
Dumbledore paused for a moment, apparently deep in thought. "I have often wondered if requiring Severus's activities with respect to the Dark Lord have removed any possibility of Draco's redemption. The wise counsel of a head of house may have been enough to tip him back to the side of the light."
With a snort, Harry said, "With all due respect, Headmaster, I doubt he was ever on our side. His father ensured that."
"Alas, I fear you are correct, Harry, but we should never give up hope." Dumbledore stopped and regarded him, his expression very serious. "As for your concerns regarding Mr. Malfoy, you are wise to be wary. Unfortunately, at this point the only thing we can do is to watch him carefully, and ensure he is never in a position to do harm to any of the ladies. If he does try something you may, of course, take decisive action. I only caution you to remember restraint, Harry—do not do something which will haunt you for the rest of your life."
And with that Harry was forced to be content.
By the time Wednesday evening rolled around, Harry was looking forward to the club meeting, knowing that it would at least be a distraction from his worried thoughts. It was the one thing in his life which was going particularly well and according to plan.
Upon their return from Christmas break and Harry's subsequent teaching of the Patronus charm, they had spent some time each week practicing it, while they spent the rest of the time going over new spells, discussing tactics and dueling strategies, interspersed with some instruction on how an all-out fight would be expected to proceed. Of course Harry's experience in the Department of Mysteries, had given him some extra credibility with the group, and had helped him to understand even better himself what to expect. They practiced all these things and Harry thought he could see some remarkable improvement in all members of the club, to the point where a few of them—especially the older students—had begun to master the Patronus. They now had a firm dozen club members who could cast the difficult charm effectively, though of course none had had to cast it in the actual presence of a Dementor. Most of the rest were to the point of being able to at least conjure a shield when casting the charm, though that was still beyond some of the youngest members of the group. Still, the professors who oversaw their activities were delighted, saying that it was a testament to the group's general talent and Harry's teaching skills that there were so many in the club who were able to cast the charm that stymied many adults.
On that particular Wednesday they went through their normal practice routines, and after a successful meeting, Harry called the group together again. He gave them a brief pep talk, and congratulated them on their progress. When he made to dismiss them for the evening, he noticed Daphne trying to gain his attention and turned toward her with a smile.
"Is there something you'd like to share with the group, Daphne?"
Daphne returned his smile with an impish grin. "Yes please, Professor Potter."
Laughter met her cheeky words, and Harry ducked his head a little in embarrassment, thinking that his words had sounded a little like a professor granting a student with her hand up a chance to speak.
"I just wanted to thank you, Hermione and Fleur for organizing this club," Daphne said, her voice taking on a more serious cast. A swell of murmured agreement met her words and Harry, though perhaps with not complete coherence, muttered thanks for her words. Daphne, however, was not done.
"More than that, I wanted to make a proposal to the members of the club." She stopped and swept her gaze about the room, catching the eyes of many of the members of the club. "I think we can all agree that we've benefitted greatly from our time in the club, and I believe it is time to give something back, specifically to Harry."
Harry found himself a little nonplused at her statement—it was not as though he had decided to do this to gain anything for himself. It was of benefit to them all, especially himself, as he found he learned as much from the experience as those he was teaching. More even, he was forced to admit.
He was about to say that it was not necessary, when Daphne again spoke. "Now, before Harry tells us that he is happy to do it and that we don't need to give anything back to him," Daphne paused and cast an amused eye on him as his mouth snapped shut, "I think that my proposal will benefit us all, as his help has benefited us.
"It's obvious that recent events at the Ministry suggest that our fearless leader is at the thick of the fight against Voldemort, and I suggest that we support him in any way that we can. I think we should formalize the Defense Club—turn it into a more formal organization. Make it even a quasi-military organization."
She paused again for a moment to let her suggestion sink in, and in that moment, Sirius, who had returned to the castle for the meeting, spoke up. "What exactly did you have in mind, Daphne?"
"Just that we work to oppose Voldemort," Daphne replied. By now there were none of the telltale flinches at the mention of the dark git's name. "I know that we will not be allowed to fight him outright when we are underage, but there are things we can do to help." She stopped and looked deliberately about the room, meeting the eyes of many of the members of the Defense Club. "We all know that Voldemort is fixated on Harry, so that logically means that at some point he will turn his eyes toward Hogwarts. Whether we want it to or not, there may be a time when we are forced to fight back."
"Aren't you being a little fatalistic?" one of the seventh years from Hufflepuff asked.
Daphne turned to face him. "Am I? Was Harry's confrontation with Voldemort at the Ministry fatalistic?"
"You can argue that he went looking for that one," Cho Chang stated.
"I certainly didn't expect to encounter Voldemort there," Harry responded, knowing that the fiction which had been reported in the paper needed to be upheld. "I found out about a prophecy about me and thought it was my right to know what it said."
"And did you find out?" Cho challenged.
Harry gazed back at her, wondering how much to reveal. He was saved from having to respond when Sirius spoke up.
"Harry destroyed the prophecy so that Voldemort could not get his hands on it, as you all should know from what was printed in the Prophet. Knowing that he felt so strongly about it, I told him what it said when he returned to Hogwarts the next morning."
"And?" Marietta Edgecombe prompted, leaning forward slightly with some interest. Trust a Ravenclaw to be enthused when there was knowledge to be gained.
"I'm sorry, but I can't say," Harry responded quickly. "Dumbledore advised me to keep it a secret."
"And a secret it will remain," Daphne interjected. "I don't claim to know if the Prophet is just spouting drivel with all this talk of Harry being 'The Chosen One.' What I do know is that he's going to continue to be a part of the fight against Voldemort because Voldemort doesn't seem to want to leave him alone."
"You've got that right," one of the twins said. "Our buddy Harry is a regular trouble magnet."
"I don't go looking for trouble!" Harry protested.
"No, but it certainly seems to go looking for you!" the other twin chimed in.
Laughter erupted and after a playful glare at the twins, Harry joined in. When it died down, Harry felt it necessary to dampen the enthusiasm for Daphne's idea.
"Look everyone, it's more than a little dangerous being me right now. I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."
"All the more reason to have a firm support group behind you," Tracey spoke up, followed by murmurs of approval from the rest of the club.
"Exactly," said Daphne. "What are you teaching us for, if you're going to take everything on yourself? If you're going to handle Voldemort and all his Death Eaters and creatures by yourself, then the rest of us might as well sit back and let you get to it, don't you think?"
Harry's face bloomed in sudden embarrassment. "Daphne, I don't think that I can defeat Voldemort by myself."
"Of course you don't," Daphne replied with some compassion. "But sometimes it almost seems like you think you can, when you try to protect everyone around you. It's an admirable trait, Harry, but it may end up getting you killed one day."
Once again quiet murmurs spread throughout the group, and Harry saw as Daphne specifically caught Hermione nodding at her. Hermione then caught Harry's gaze and she grinned at him, no doubt thinking of all the times she had made this exactly point to him.
"We can help patrolling the castle," Daphne continued and then paused, as an amused expression came over her face. "After all, wouldn't we all feel a little safer if someone other than Malfoy and Parkinson were patrolling?"
There was nothing to be said to that statement—it was in every way true.
"We can also help protect the castle, keep the younger years safe, provide support if the Death Eaters ever attack here. There are plenty of things that we can do, even if we aren't involved with the actual fighting."
From there the idea seemed to take off and soon the entire Defense Club was discussing the idea enthusiastically, though with a few exceptions. There were a handful of the club members who balked, saying that they had joined to learn for their OWLs and had no intention of being involved any further. Though it appeared that some of his stauncher supporters were slightly put out by this attitude, Harry stepped in immediately, professing his support and letting everyone know that no one would be forced to participate. His only restriction was that they keep this new development to themselves, which they all readily agreed. They were then excused from the rest of the discussion.
Before long they had worked out a rough command structure for the group, as Ron insisted that if they were to become a quasi-military organization, then they should act like one. It was decided that Harry would be in overall command, with Hermione and Fleur as his lieutenants—Hermione would be in charge of training regimen and lesson content, while Fleur would focus on troop disposition and duty rosters. Then they divided the rest of the members into troops, one for each house—with the exception of Gryffindor, which had two troops, due to the larger number of Gryffindor members. Each troop was assigned a troop leader and an assistant to round out the command for the Defense Club.
At the end of their discussions, it was nearing curfew, a fact of which Sirius reminded them. Just before they were about to break up, Hermione spoke up.
"Since this is no longer exactly a club, maybe we should find a new name?"
"How about Potter's Army?" Colin Creevey piped up, to which Harry responded with a groan.
"Please no," he objected, much to the amusement of the rest of the club. Then he thought of something and grinned wickedly. "If we did that, I've no doubt that Minister Bones would think that I'm raising an army to take over the Ministry."
Laughter once again rang out at Harry's not so subtle dig at the late and unlamented Minister Fudge.
"Actually," Hermione said with a knowing grin in Harry's direction, "I was thinking we just change it slightly to 'Defense Association'. That way we keep the elements of the name we have been using up until now, and it gets the point across as to what our purpose is."
A general swell of agreement met Hermione's suggestion and it was decided. The Defense Club had morphed into the Defense Association. As he walked back to Gryffindor tower with his friend, Harry could hot help but wonder just exactly what it was they had wrought that night.
Making her way back to the Slytherin common room that evening, Daphne was in a pensive mood. Her thoughts upon going into the Defense Club meeting that evening had been to attempt to make this group which Harry had gathered around him even stronger than it already was. He was a focal point—a lightning rod in the struggle against Voldemort, and the more support he ultimately had from those around him, the better prepared he would be as the war progressed.
Of course, the Defense Club was not exactly in a position to carry the war back to Voldemort. With the possible exception of Hermione and Fleur, Daphne doubted that any members of the club would ever be involved in any heavy fighting with Voldemort's forces, unless, of course, it dragged on for several years. As she had suggested that evening, the Defense Club would serve more as a support organization for Harry, helping in patrolling the castle, training which Harry insisted was teaching him every bit as much as he was learning himself, and just providing that extra level of confidence he would need.
She was, she reflected, fortunate that Harry and those who supported him were what they were. She had been pleasantly surprised when first making his close acquaintance the previous year, to learn that he was a genuine person, one who lived by his convictions and expected those around him to do the same. Any Slytherin in the same situation would have demanded some assurance of their trustworthiness in return for his assistance, but Harry and Dumbledore had merely assented to the need, conducted the negotiations, and accepted them as allies. Now Daphne and her friends enjoyed the benefit of not only Harry's tutelage, but also his support and friendship.
Which brought her to the other subject which had been on her mind. When she had first approached Harry, she had taken something of a wait and see approach, but in the back of her mind, she had kept the thought that she could offer a betrothal contract as proof of her and her family's trustworthiness if he should not take her words at face value, something she expected was very likely. She had had her parents' agreement to do so if it was necessary, knowing that the alliance was very important to their security.
But Harry had proven that was unnecessary. To Harry, she had proven herself by the way she had conducted herself. And as such, she had no need to offer herself up as a means of cementing their alliance—all she had to do was to prove herself and to be a friend to him, to which he responded by being a friend in return. Her own interactions with him and testimony of his closest friend Ron Weasley had spoken for themselves—Harry would do anything for his friends.
Now, however, Daphne felt herself to be at a bit of a crossroads. It was still true that she did not need a betrothal with him, but now she felt herself uncertain as to whether she wanted one. The fact of the matter was that Daphne knew it would be perilously easy to fall in love with Harry Potter. Easy because of the kind of person he was—caring, considerate, and in all facets the manner of young man which all young girls dreamed of sweeping them off their feet. Perilous because Daphne suspected that he would never feel for a third wife what he already felt for Hermione and Fleur. If she could somehow worm her way into his heart to the extent that Fleur and Hermione had done, she imagined that the fact that he was to have two other wives would not matter as much, though she certainly understood it would not be ideal. Still, she would be willing to give up much to be with the man she loved.
But she was still uncertain. His feelings for both girls he was currently courting were obviously deep and permanent. Could she excite such feelings for herself in him? The answer, obviously, was that she was not certain.
She suppressed a sigh as they walked. Tracey—who was striding by her side—knew something of Daphne's dilemma, and she would undoubtedly use the opportunity to tease her if she guessed what Daphne's thoughts were. Tracey was a good friend, but she could be positively infuriating when she was in a teasing mood, one of the only things which annoyed her about her friend.
The entrance to the common room appeared in front of them and Daphne, following Nigel and Blaise, stepped into the room, intending to say good night to her friends before making her way up to the dormitories for some much-needed solitude and sleep, not to mention time to reflect. But it was not to be.
Situated on a sofa near the fireplace, Draco Malfoy sat, gazing coldly at the new arrivals as they entered the room. About him were arrayed those who supported him in the house—his two large but stupid henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle, along with Nott, Parkinson, and Bulstrode. To the side, several members of the Slytherin Quidditch team stood, though if it came down to a fight, Daphne suspected that only Warrington and Montague would actually back Malfoy up. Pucey was known to be a non-agitator, more interested in his studies than in the tripe Malfoy continually spouted, and Bletchley was essentially a coward. They were both likely here because of a few well-placed threats. There were a few more—mostly higher years—who were known to sympathize with Voldemort. Most of these, however, were much more Slytherin in their methods, and she was uncertain if they would support Malfoy in an overt confrontation. There were few other Slytherins in evidence, unusual for just after curfew. Clearly most had sensed what was about to occur, and had had the good sense to avoid the confrontation altogether by riding it out in their dormitories.
"This doesn't look good," Tracey said to her softly as she sized up the situation in the room.
Daphne nodded and pulled Astoria to her side, ready to protect her younger sister in case the hexes started flying.
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" Malfoy said, leaning lazily back into his seat and spreading his arms along the back of the sofa. "The Blood Traitors have returned."
"Yes, we have," Daphne drawled in an obviously dismissive response. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe that it is time to retire."
"Not so fast," Malfoy growled as he rose to his feet, bringing those who supported him to theirs. He quickly moved in front of the stairwells which led down to the dormitories, his supporters closely arrayed by his sides. With this motion, Daphne was certain he had revealed his true level of support in the house. Of course, all the members of his clique followed him and stood facing the club members. As expected, Warrington and Montague took their positions with him as well, but surprisingly, Bletchley did as well, though he was clearly almost frightened out of his wits. Of the higher years, only one or two of those in attendance showed their support by standing with Malfoy, though Daphne did notice a couple of those still sitting toying with their wands. They would bear close watching.
"It seems like some members of our house have forgotten the ideals of our founder. They consort with Halfbloods and Blood Traitors, Mudbloods and lesser beings. It seems like those of us who are still right-thinking must educate those who appear to have lost their way."
"And I suppose you think you can educate us?" Tracey snapped with clear disdain literally oozing from her voice. While normally Daphne might have tried to hold her friend's caustic nature in check, in this instance it might actually help induce Malfoy to back down. Perhaps it was best for them all if they demonstrated exactly what Harry had been teaching them, and just exactly how well they were now able to protect themselves.
"You'll be the first to learn your true place, Davis," Malfoy snapped contemptuously.
"And make no mistake," he boomed theatrically, "the time is swiftly coming when all who would weaken our society and leave us vulnerable to the Muggles will be swept away and a new order will take its place. We must work together so that we may protect ourselves from those who would do us harm."
He was certainly a true disciple, Daphne thought, though his words did not impress her. He was obviously careful in exactly what he was saying as he made no overt mention of Voldemort, but his tone was unmistakable, and he clearly expected to be exalted in Voldemort's "new world order." But he, like others of his ilk, forgot one simple matter in their rush to ingratiate themselves into Voldemort's good books—the Dark Lord did not share power. He considered himself to be supreme. Everyone else was fit only to be a slave. Of course it was true that some slaves might be more equal than others, but they would still be slaves as evidenced by the brand he forced on them all. None would ever have any measure of power that he did not give them.
Daphne did the only thing she could—she broke into applause, clapping while shooting Malfoy with a contemptuous smile. "Bravo, Malfoy. Tell me, did it take you long to come up with that speech? I'm rather surprised that you possess the intelligence necessary to memorize it."
"Maybe I was mistaken," Malfoy said with a glower. "You should be the first one to learn your place and live up to your heritage."
"I don't know about you, but my heritage does not include bowing down before a Halfblood in the name of blood purity."
Malfoy snarled in response. "How dare you insult the Dark Lord!"
"It's hardly an insult to tell the truth, now is it?"
"It's obvious you have been corrupted by Potter." His smile became absolutely feral. "I will enjoy re-educating you in the proper behavior."
"In your dreams, Malfoy."
"You all have a choice," Malfoy continued speaking as though Daphne had not said a word. "You can renounce this nonsense with Potter and return to your proper affiliation. Choose wisely—if you make the wrong choice, you will end up regretting it."
"You really are an idiot, Malfoy," Tracey jibed. "We've been practicing our skills all year, in addition to our Defense classes. What have you been doing besides preening in front of the mirror?"
"If you want to try and stop us from attending the club meetings, you're welcome to try," Nigel added "Be prepared to be humiliated if you do."
"Now get your gorillas out of the way and leave us in peace," Greta added in the snobbish voice she was so good at."
Now, in Malfoy's defense, Daphne was certain the ponce had no intention to start a firefight—not even Malfoy could be that reckless. His usual method was to threaten, cajole, and then call for daddy if things did not go his way, though the last option was not available at the moment for obvious reasons. What he had not counted on was the fact that not all of his cronies were very bright.
Daphne had watched the entire group as the confrontation wore on, and though, for the most part, they had kept their countenances stony while allowing Draco to be their spokesman, Crabbe and Goyle's expressions had become darker as the insults were exchanged. But when Greta had finally insulted them, using the term "gorilla"—which Daphne had used herself against them many a time—Crabbe's patience snapped.
His wand snapped up and he spit out a curse at the fourth year, which prompted a hail of spellfire in response from the already keyed up club members. Of course Greta was ready for the slow Slytherin, blocking the curse and following it with a hex of her own.
For the most part, Draco's Slytherins were overcome in a matter of moments. The club members had practiced far too much and had managed to outstrip their opponents rather spectacularly over the course of the year. Of course, Daphne thought maliciously as she parried a vicious hex from Malfoy and returned fire with a nasty combination, it did help that Draco and his cohorts were not exactly the most competent individuals.
"You had better just face the facts, Greengrass," Draco ground out at her as he struggled to counter her attacks. All about him his supporters were being felled by the club members, and his situation was becoming even more desperate by the moment. "As Purebloods we're just better than the rest of them. You should be grateful that I'm willing to give you my personal attention.
"The personal attention of a delusional daddy's boy," Daphne returned with considerable contempt. She dodged his stunner and responded with a disarming, stunner, petrifaction combination, the last of which almost had Malfoy as he dodged to the side. Daphne had to admit that he was performing better than she had expected—it seemed as though someone had been practicing.
By this point, however, Malfoy was the only one still standing, as the club members had disarmed or stunned the rest of his company.
Too bad his idiot friends haven't practiced, she thought viciously. They might have lasted a little longer.
Stepping to the side, Daphne responded with a stunner, bracketed by a pushback hex and a bat bogey hex she had learned by observing the youngest Weasley, as she demonstrated it only a few days earlier. Malfoy dodged the stunner, only to unfortunately walk right into the bat bogey, and was knocked back onto his arse, as his own bogeys began to attack his face. From there it was a simple matter to relieve him of his wand.
Catching Tracey's eyes, Daphne noted the look of approval her friend was giving her. "Now that's poetic justice," the other girl said with a laugh.
Daphne grinned but was not given an opportunity to respond as, at that moment, the portrait hole opened, and the forbidding figure of their potions master head of house stormed into the common room.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, taking in the scene in an instant.
"I think you will have to ask Mr. Malfoy that question," Daphne replied. "He and his friends decided to ambush us when we got back tonight.
Snape's eyes narrowed. "And what were you all doing out this evening so late? Did you return in time for curfew?"
Daphne looked up at the large clock on the wall and noted that curfew had indeed passed during the confrontation. It was also immediately understood that Snape, hating everything to do with Harry Potter as he did, would take any opportunity to punish those with whom he associated, and as he obviously knew that the club met that night, now was just such an opportunity.
"We were back before curfew," Nigel said quickly. Daphne was glad he spoke up as, being a seventh year prefect, his word carried some more weight than if one of the others had made the claim.
"Tonight is the night the defense club meets, sir," Greta spoke up, answering Snape's other question.
The potions professor contented himself with a grunt. He produced his wand and flicked it at Malfoy's crew, releasing them from their various states. Malfoy immediately leapt to his feet, his fists clenched in rage, and took a menacing step forward toward Daphne.
"That will be enough, Mr. Malfoy!" Snape said to the blond, and though he did not raise his voice, the frigid anger inherent in his words served most admirably. He turned to Daphne, who was still clutching Malfoy's wand in one hand and said, "Return Mr. Malfoy's wand to him."
Daphne, determined to keep her distance from the git, flicked her wrist and the wand rose in a gentle arc, to be snatched out of the air by its owner. Though Malfoy appeared ready to further hostilities, a single quelling look from his head of house and he sullenly turned to his followers, who, by this time, had all regained their feet.
"Let's get out of here. The stench of Blood Traitors and lesser beings is starting to get to me."
"Not so fast," Snape commanded, though only Malfoy had made any move to leave. The rest of his cronies all stood, equally dividing their attention between glaring at the club members hatefully, and throwing fearful glances at the potions master. It was a rather incongruous combination to be certain. "No one is leaving until I get to the bottom of this."
He regarded the entire group with a baleful eye. "Now, will someone please tell me what in Merlin's name has happened here tonight?"
As the students began to explain the events of the evening, Snape felt a headache of prodigious proportions coming on. It was almost as bad as a Potter-induced headache, and those could only be induced by two people, one of whom was thankfully dead. Now that he thought about it, though, in some ways this was even worse than a Potter-induced headache. With Potter, he could simply scowl at the brat, deduct some points, and send him on his way. That, of course, was not exactly an option in this case—he was head of house, and had no choice but to deal with this fiasco.
The truth of the matter quickly became clear, and it was corroborated by several witnesses who had been in the common room at the time of the confrontation. The club members had returned from their meeting, and had been confronted in the common room by Draco and his friends. And since Draco had been complaining for weeks about Slytherins attending something run by the detestable Potter—though to the boy's slight credit he had generally kept his complaints from becoming too obvious—it was not difficult to determine that he had instigated the entire fracas. The fact that Crabbe had fired the first curse was essentially irrelevant—Dumbledore would hold Draco accountable for provoking the confrontation, and Snape could not disagree with that assessment.
Snape allowed his eyes to wander over his friend's son as Pucey related what had happened from his perspective. The fact of the matter was that Draco was a disappointment. He was an indifferent student at best, he was not intelligent enough to possess any true cunning, and he was about as subtle as a bludger.
In his first year, he had been directed by his father to approach Potter and offer his friendship. That had been completely mucked up, as Draco had only managed to offend Potter with his arrogance and conceit, insulting Potter's own fledgling friendships in the same breath. From there, it had only become worse. He had antagonized and insulted Potter and his friends at every opportunity, and Snape suspected the only reason Draco had ever gotten the better of the Gryffindors was because Snape himself had rescued him several times. The boy was simply not true Slytherin material, and the only reason he had been placed into the house of the snake was likely because the boy had requested it. That and the fact that he did not truly fit in any one of the other houses either, as Snape was well aware that the hat would not give way if a student requested a house when he was a much better fit for another.
Since the winter break, Snape had thought that perhaps finally Draco was making progress. He had been quieter, keeping his own counsel, refraining from going after Potter at every opportunity, watching and listening, rather than barging in like any Gryffindor. But it appeared like it had only been a sham. The Dark Lord had taken some interest in Draco's instruction, Snape understood, and it must have been the fear of the Dark Lord that had kept him in check.
Unfortunately, it was now apparent that the boy had learned nothing. He had merely suppressed his natural instincts due to fear, and had not truly developed any measure of cunning. A Slytherin did not act in this manner. A Slytherin was smart and sly, acting behind the scenes and manipulating events from the shadows, while having the talent and ability to intervene directly, but only if every other option was exhausted. Draco did not fit this mold. He had never fit it.
"I have never been so disgusted with the members of this house in my life," Snape began when the entire story was out. "I would expect Gryffindors to throw insults around and solve their differences with their wands. But we are Slytherin. The house of the lion may strut and preen and use brute force to overcome their prey. The house of the snake uses stealth and a superior understanding and manipulation to influence events to suit his purpose, and then strikes when the time is right.
"Tonight, no one in this room has shown these traits. No one!" More than a few of the students jumped when he spat the last in disgust.
"But sir—"
"You will listen and not speak, Miss Greengrass," Snape interrupted. It was the younger sister who had tried to speak, though the elder was silent, watching and listening, but not making any attempt to justify her actions. It was ironic, he decided, that the one girl who might be the most Slytherin of them all, and who was the unfortunate opposite of Draco, was also the one who despised him the most, though Snape rather thought Draco was somewhat fixated on her. Of course, Daphne would not even give him the time of day, which was even more regrettable as she was almost certainly one who could take him in hand and show him how to behave properly. Not that Snape could blame her—Miss Greengrass's abilities far exceeded Draco's own, more was the pity.
"I can understand that you all defended yourselves from Mr. Malfoy's aggression, and I cannot fault you for that. But even so, I believe a little more Slytherin is called for. Perhaps you could have found some way to avoid the confrontation. You are, of course, allowed to attend these club meetings, but perhaps a little less confrontational posture in the matter of Potter's club would be more befitting a Slytherin?"
Snape could immediately see that many were not convinced, but he chose not to belabor the point. They would learn as they matured.
"And what were you thinking when you provoked this, Mr. Malfoy?"
The only response he received was a mumble from the infuriating boy. "I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, what was that?"
Draco glared defiantly. "Some members of this house are traitors, by associating with Potter. They need to be shown the error of their ways."
"Are you to judge that?"
"My father said—"
"Regardless of what your father said," Snape once again interrupted, noting the rolled eyes Draco's oft-repeated refrain had generated, "I believe it is for every one of us to decide exactly how they act, and where there allegiances are. In fact," he glanced over the club members, "I believe a certain amount of credit is due our members who have infiltrated Potter's club, regardless of their reasons. It is very Slytherin to insinuate yourself into a group who would normally not accept you."
Turning back to Draco's crew, he frowned again. "Now, there will be no more of this Gryffindor-ish behavior." He paused and allowed his imperious gaze to wander over them all. "For provoking the incident, that will be twenty points, Mr. Malfoy, and two weeks detention with Mr. Filch. It will not happen again, or the punishment will be much more severe, I assure you." He glared at Draco, but the boy refused to meet his gaze.
"Mr. Crabbe, that will be ten points for casting the first hex, and a week's detention. In addition, everyone who supported Mr. Malfoy and confronted the club members will be docked an additional five points, and will serve three nights of detention."
Snape turned his attention toward the club members. "Furthermore, for insulting your house mates in a manner not befitting a Slytherin, Miss Davis, Miss Greengrass and Miss White will also be docked five points each." Raking his gaze out over them all, Snape continued, "I believe this will take Slytherin out of contention for the house cup. You may be assured that every member of the house will know exactly who has caused our disqualification."
"Now, you will all return to your dorms now. I am enforcing a dorm curfew from this time for the rest of the evening. I suggest you use this time wisely to consider what exactly it means to be a Slytherin."
As the students rose to leave, Snape snapped, "You will remain behind, Mr. Malfoy."
The boy sullenly flopped back into his chair, fixing Snape with a resentful glare. Snape did not particularly care about the boy's attitude.
When the rest of the house had made their way to the dorms, Snape fixed Draco with a meaningful glare. "Now, let's discuss this again without everyone else in the house listening in, shall we? Just what did you think you were doing by provoking a firefight in the Slytherin common room?"
The boy glared petulantly at him. "I was doing as the Dark Lord commanded."
"And how is damaging your standing in the house and further dividing us, what the Dark Lord commanded?"
"You wouldn't understand."
Snape glared at the obtuse little git. "I wouldn't understand," he mimicked Draco's words. "You moronic dunderhead!" Draco scowled and attempted to say something, but Snape continued right on over the boy's words. "You were instructed to begin to assert your will on the house and bring them into line, but to do nothing overt. Your actions tonight were not overt? If you were in Gryffindor, your tactic might have been successful. In Slytherin, you do nothing more than alienate yourself from the rest of the house you are supposed to lead."
Eyes widened in surprise, Draco gazed at him, clearly taken aback.
"What, you suppose that I did not know of the instructions you received from the Dark Lord during the Yule holiday? Or that he took a direct hand in your instruction? Not that it appears like you've learned anything from his tutelage, if your little display here tonight is any indication.
"I ask you again—how was provoking a fight supposed to help you lead the house of the ambitious and cunning?"
"What should I do?" the boy demanded. "Just allow members of the house to go to Potter's little club like they aren't traitors?" It was clear that he had intended to sound imperious, but it came off as nothing more than whiny.
"Perhaps you could use some of the traits for which our house is famous," Snape ground out.
Leaning back in his chair, Snape watched the boy deliberately. It was clear that the boy's greatest wish was to follow in his father's footsteps, but it was also clear that he had little of the intelligence and talent his father had possessed at a similar age. Yet, Snape felt he owed something to the boy's father. Snape had been a shy first year—with naught but a Muggleborn for a friend—when he had arrived at Hogwarts. Lucius, being a prefect and the scion of a wealthy and influential family, had taken Snape under his wing and shown him the ropes. He had grown up in Slytherin trying to emulate the elder Malfoy's behavior, though Lucius had other habits, Snape suspected, that were... disturbing to say the least, if what he had heard from others in the Dark Lord's camp were in any way true. Snape had always tried to mentor Lucius's son, though it had been frustrating in the extreme. He hoped that Draco would survive the war, though it was Snape's greatest wish for the Dark Lord to meet an end, and in order for him to survive, Draco would need to be kept from openly supporting the Dark Lord. Behavior such as this would not see that desire realized, however, and thus far even the Dark Lord himself had been unable to induce Slytherin behavior from the boy. He simply did not have it in him.
Unfortunately, it was likely too late for Draco. Unless the Dark Lord was defeated immediately, Snape had little doubt that Draco would either try something stupid and get himself killed, or he would be captured and spend most of his adult life decorating a cell in Azkaban.
There was also Snape's suspicion that the boy had been tasked with something. He had no proof but the Draco's recent behavior had suggested that he had been instructed by the Dark Lord to do something in the school. Snape was not foolish enough to expose himself by fishing for any information which the Dark Lord had not authorized his knowledge, but even his passive Legilimency efforts had yielded nothing—the boy had been taught enough Occlumency to protect himself against a passive scan, as most Purebloods were, and Snape knew he could not force the issue with an active probe. If the situation was what he suspected, then Draco would at some point act against Potter or one of the two girls he kept by his side, and that any blatant action against Potter or his friends might end up spelling Draco's end.
But there was not much that Snape could do. If Draco had been given something to accomplish, it was either do it or pay the price for willfully disobeying, not that Draco would find any reason to disobey. If his suspicions were correct, Snape could only hope that Draco either succeeded in what he had been instructed to do, or that the boy's failure was not too egregious. Of his blatant actions in the common room that night, well, perhaps a different tactic was called for.
"When I began attending this school, your father was in his fifth year and was already a prefect. By that time, he had already… 'asserted his will' over Slytherin house. How do think he did so? Was it through open challenges and provoking fights in the common room? Do you think the Dark Lord, when he attended Hogwarts, ruled Slytherin house like a Gryffindor?"
Draco eyed him silently and refused to reply.
"Of course they did not. Your father was aware of his position in society and used that to his advantage, of course, but he worked from the background, manipulating events through his knowledge and influence. When a demonstration of resolve was required he did not back down, but he was largely able to rely on his more Slytherin attributes to uphold his position. If you wish to survive in the Dark Lord's company, I suggest you learn to act more in a manner befitting a Slytherin of noble pedigree.
"I can no longer protect you from your own stupidity." Draco glared at him as he said this, but Snape ignored his infantile reaction. "Dumbledore will learn of the events of the evening, and he will come down on you and your friends even harder than I have. I know the Dark Lord has tasked you with something; your mission will now be much more difficult to achieve."
Draco's eyes widened at this new revelation. "How—?"
"Because I know how to observe," Snape interrupted dryly. "Do not concern yourself with what I know. Just keep in mind that if you step any further out of line, Dumbledore may choose to expel you. You would then fail in your mission. Tread lightly, Draco.
"You may now return to your dorm."
The boy rose to his feet and began shuffling sullenly to the stairs. Before he reached them, he stopped and turned with a glare. "You know what I think? I think you're a spy for Dumbledore. I think that when the Dark Lord finds out, he'll make you pay."
Snape rolled his eyes. "You're opinion means nothing. The Dark Lord knows exactly what I do for him. You had best tend to your own concerns."
With a final glare, Draco descended the stairs to the boys' dormitories, leaving Snape alone in the room with his thoughts. In truth, Snape did not really want to think about it all any longer. Though he still desired vengeance for the Dark Lord's killing of Lily Evans, the stressful situation was wearing on him. It was becoming more difficult all the time to summon the will to deal with Dumbledore, Potter, Draco, and everything else. Sometimes he wished he could just leave it all behind.
At heart, however, Snape was a pragmatist. The situation was what it was. For now, he had better report to Dumbledore, as he had no doubt that word of what had happened tonight would get out by the morning.
As Snape had expected, news of the altercation in the Slytherin common room spread through the school like a forest fire fanned by a hot summer breeze, as such things were wont to do in an isolated school. At breakfast the next morning, there was little conversation on any other topic, and when Malfoy and his crew entered, all discussion ceased for a brief moment, and then started up again once he had made his way to his customary place at the Slytherin table, his cheeks flaming. The attention did not, of course, improve his disposition. That he and his friends had been quickly outclassed by the other faction did not help either.
In addition, again as Snape had expected, the Headmaster, having returned to the school after spending the day at the Ministry—since the action there, the Headmaster had been absent from the school more than he had been present—had come down heavily on Draco and his minions for their actions.
The heads of house had arrived in the common rooms early that morning and had delivered a summons for their respective houses to present themselves in the Great Hall that morning at eight o'clock for an announcement by the Headmaster. When Fleur and her friends had arrived in the Great Hall, the first thing which captured their attention was the hourglass jewel counters which kept track of the house points. In addition to what Snape had deducted the previous evening, Slytherin house's counter appeared to be missing an additional two hundred points. In one night, they had gone from what had been a virtual dead heat with Gryffindor for the lead, to lagging well behind third place Ravenclaw. Slytherin was now guaranteed to be a non factor in the house cup for the rest of the year.
The rumor quickly reached their ears that Dumbledore had had the members of Draco's gang in his office that morning at the crack of dawn and had berated them for the better part of an hour over their behavior. House points were not the only thing which Slytherin had been docked. Malfoy and his friends had also been given additional detentions—Malfoy's had been extended to the end of the year, if the rumor was to be believed—and they had all been threatened with expulsion should anything like this ever happen again.
The final punishment to be enacted against them was the suspension for the final game of the year for every member of the Slytherin Quidditch team who had been involved in the fracas—in other words every member except for Pucey, who had stayed clear of the fight. Pucey was quickly made the new Slytherin captain—it had previously been Montague—and been given the unenviable and nearly impossible task of fielding a team for their match against Hufflepuff only two and a half weeks hence. Needless to say the hapless Puffs were the most excited about the development, as they now appeared to have a legitimate shot of pulling off one victory that Quidditch year.
"What do you think Dumbledore will say?" Fleur asked Harry quietly as they waited for the Headmaster to rise to his feet.
"Probably something about house unity, I'd guess," Harry replied.
"McGonagall talked about house unity just before my sorting," Ginny spoke up from where she sat to the side.
"She does that with every new crop of students," one of the twins said. "I've heard it's largely the same speech every year."
"Looks like Malfoy either had his head up his arse, or he just doesn't care," Ron remarked snidely.
Harry and Hermione glanced at each other before saying in unison, "Or both."
The nearby table erupted in laughter, which included a few Hufflepuffs, who were seated just behind Harry. The smirks which were directed at Malfoy and the Slytherin table were not hidden and appeared to do nothing to improve his temper, which had been observed to be on a slow burn all morning.
"This house system seems to foster division and rivalry," Fleur remarked when the merriment died down.
"It does at that," Harry replied with a sigh. He had appeared to be withdrawn and thoughtful all morning.
"How does it work at Beauxbatons?" Hermione asked curiously.
"There are no houses at Beauxbatons," Fleur replied. "The student dorms are separated by year and gender. If you were a student there, you might be in class with anyone in your year, depending how the schedule works out."
"What about Quidditch?" Ron asked, much to the amusement of the rest of the table.
"Quidditch is not as big a deal at Beauxbatons as it is here." The sight of Ron sputtering at the notion was again amusing. "There is a recreation league, but students form their own teams and compete on weekends."
"You know, Ron," Neville piped up, "that might be better from a certain standpoint. There are likely quite a few more games that way."
"Though it wouldn't be as competitive," Ginny chimed in.
"It isn't," Fleur agreed. "But there are more games. At Hogwarts there are only six games per year. There are dozens at Beauxbatons, though you're right that the level of competition does not compare with Hogwarts."
Ron was left to contemplate on the merits of quality versus quantity and the reverse.
It was at that moment that Professor Dumbledore stood to address the students. The customary twinkling eyes and genial demeanor he usually showed when he rose to make announcements was missing, and in its place was a mask of extreme displeasure.
"By now you will all be aware of what occurred in the Slytherin common room last night," he began without preamble. Heads swiveled and eyes moved to rest upon Malfoy and his cronies, to which the Slytherin scowled, but bore the attention stoically.
"I believe that Professor McGonagall has often spoken to our new students of the fact that your house is like your family at Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued. "What happened last night is certainly not how family should treat one another.
"I am most disappointed. Nothing has occurred in all the forty years I have been Headmaster of this institution to compare with the actions of the members of Slytherin house last night. In fact, I am unaware of anything like this happening at any time since the inception of Hogwarts more than one thousand years ago."
The Headmaster paused for a brief moment as though considering his words. "You may not realize this, but the friendships you make at Hogwarts can sometimes be fleeting. You grow into adulthood, move on to careers and families, and lose touch with many dear friends of your youth. Now is a time to cherish and foster those friendships, not foster hatred and resentment. It is also not the time to throw curses at one another in anger.
"As you all likely already know, Professor Snape and I have dealt with those involved in an appropriate manner. I hope their punishment keeps them busy enough that their detentions, accompanied by their regular schoolwork and the other pressures of school, will keep them out of trouble for the rest of the year. I would strongly advise you all to use this coming summer to think about your actions, and prepare yourselves to return in the fall, those who are returning, as this sort of behavior will not be tolerated again."
Dumbledore gazed out over the students, his eyes now hard as agates. "If anything of this nature ever happens again, those responsible will find themselves expelled. In addition, I know that it has been the practice to hex one another in the hallways when you think you can get away with it. From this time forward, any offensive wand use in any manner against another student, unless under supervised conditions in your classrooms or clubs, will result in suspension or expulsion, depending on the severity of the offense. I would advise those students involved with the altercation last night to tread most lightly—you are all on the brink, and any further behavior would send you over the cliff. Do not test our resolve in this matter."
With that final warning, the Headmaster once again took his seat and a firestorm of conversation rose throughout the room. It quieted slightly when, moments after Dumbledore's words, Malfoy and his closest companions—most of the Quidditch team did not follow him, presumably because they had already gotten in enough trouble for following his lead—stood and hurriedly exited the hall.
It was only a few more moments before Harry stood suddenly and motioning to his friends to follow him, moved out into the entry hall, following their Slytherin friends who had departed moments before. His purpose quickly became clear.
"Hey, wait up," he called, and in front of them, Daphne, Tracey, and most of the other Slytherin members of the club stopped and turned to regard his approach.
"Are you guys all right?" he asked.
"This is Malfoy we're talking about here," Daphne replied, to the nods of the rest of her friends.
"I know," Harry said shortly, "but I'm getting more and more worried about him. He seemed to back off since winter break, and now he's doing stupid things all over again."
"Don't worry, Harry," Tracey replied. "We can handle the likes of Malfoy."
"Isn't that what you taught us to do?" Blaise spoke up.
"You're still members of the club," Harry replied fiercely. "We'll stand with you no matter what, against Malfoy or against Voldemort himself."
It was so like Harry, Fleur reflected, to always take responsibility and show his unwavering loyalty. Harry could easily have been sorted into the badger house, given his loyalty to anyone he considered a friend.
"If you need our help with anything," Harry continued, gesturing to everyone who was gathered around him, "let us know. I will not let Malfoy intimidate any of you. Just say the word, and I'll hang him from the Astronomy Tower by his underwear."
Amused grins met such a declaration, though predictably Hermione swatted him with mock disapproval. "Though I would not disagree that the little prick would deserve it, you'd only get in trouble. The Headmaster did just outlaw that sort of behavior, you know."
"Only if he can pin it on me," Harry muttered. "And it would be worth it if it would protect our friends and take the ferret down a peg or two."
"Don't worry, Harry," Tracey insisted. "We can handle Malfoy."
Harry nodded. "But be sure to let us know if you need anything. I—we," he said, gesturing to his friends standing behind him, "will do whatever it takes to protect you."
"Why are all the good ones taken?" Daphne spoke up somewhat theatrically. "I wish you weren't already attached, Potter. I'd like to have a go at you myself."
Catching onto the girl's game, and amused at the way Harry blushed, Fleur made a great show of taking his arm possessively. "Sorry, girls. I'm afraid you'll have to find someone else. He's mine."
To Fleur's utter surprise, Harry answered with a devilish grin and turned to kiss Fleur on the forehead, much to the amusement of everyone watching. The twins even whistled and yelled out catcalls, chanting for a real kiss. His eyes sparkling with amusement, Harry leaned in a grazed Fleur's lips with the softest of kisses, prompting the cheers to escalate even higher.
"Thanks, guys, for your unwavering support," he said as he turned and grinned at the company. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I think Fleur and I need a little privacy."
The catcalls only escalated as they walked away, but Fleur did not mind. Even though the kiss Harry had given her had barely been a touch of his lips to hers, the emotion behind it had left her breathless.
Later that morning when she arrived to class, Fleur put up with the good-natured ribbing she received from her year mates with aplomb. The time they had spent deepening their relationship had been eminently satisfying and, other than a few whispered endearments, their communication had been accomplished entirely without the use of words. Fleur found that such communication was highly desirable, especially when it was done with the one with whom she now knew she was rapidly falling in love.
Updated 05/28/2014