Thursday, 2 September 1993
Hogwarts
By Thursday, Mary felt that she was getting back into the swing of things. All of her first classes had gone reasonably well, she was no longer avoiding Lilian, the Quidditch-Detention conflict had been (more or less) resolved, and, perhaps best of all, she spotted an intriguing message on the notice board as she made her way to breakfast:
ATTN: Third-Year Slytherins
Please report to Classroom 103 at 7 PM on Friday, 3 September for
"Slytherin Emergency Resources, Protocols, and Conduct"
Failure to attend will be noted.
Prof. Snape
This, Mary was certain, had to be the "extra class" Turner had mentioned on the train, about which she and Lilian had not been able to discover any additional information. They had, admittedly, not been trying very hard since classes resumed, but every time they had asked any older Snakes, including Sean Moon, they simply gave the younger girls a knowing smirk and said they would find out what it was all about in due time.
Thus, in addition to feeling like her new classes and social life were falling back into place, there was a sense of satisfaction that her curiosity would soon be sated, and the mystery of Snape's Extra Class would soon be revealed. Much to Mary's disappointment, she found that this very pleasant feeling was fleeting, lasting only through Charms.
Mary had been regretting betting on Dave Rhees coming to Slytherin, and second-guessing talking up the house at the Muggleborn Shopping Excursion since she heard that he made it in. She was, as she told Lilian at the welcome feast, terribly concerned that the boy was going to have an even worse time of it in Slytherin than she did her first month or so, and she was convinced that this concern was not misplaced. She could sense a storm brewing around the muggleborn firstie – the hostility of the house was evident in the glares of the first and second-years and the cold shoulders of the upperclassmen, who, she had found, were generally content to ignore the first and second-years unless they had a family connection to one of them. She didn't know how far Professor Snape would be willing to let things progress, but if her own experience was anything to go by, he would not butt in if the students wanted to work things out for themselves, and Mary had a sneaking suspicion that Rhees was stubborn enough to try. It hardly bore mentioning that there was no possible way the he could stand up for himself, given his complete lack of spell knowledge, political connections, or rare abilities known to be passed through the Slytherin bloodline.
On Thursday after Charms, that storm finally broke. Unfortunately, or perhaps very fortunately, from a certain perspective, Mary was the most senior Slytherin present when the break occurred. She had been enjoying her extra free period (while the Hufflepuffs dealt with Remus' boggart) by exploring the new secret passages which had developed out of the Slytherin tunnels over the summer. It was just her luck that she happened to step out from a portrait in an un-used corridor on the fifth floor just in time to see five of the second-year boys and three of the little first-years, whose names she didn't know, kicking the unfortunate muggleborn in the middle of the hallway.
She hesitated for a full three seconds before she realized that she really couldn't allow this to go on, and she had a very good excuse to intervene. Not only were they breaking the first and second rules of Slytherin, getting caught beating one of their own in public, but this definitely crossed the line between hazing and bullying. Rhees probably wouldn't ask for help any more than she had, or even appreciate her coming to his rescue, but lucky for him, because his attackers were breaking the Truce as well, he didn't have to. After all, if the Truce went to hell, she would be in just as much trouble as the first-year.
The second-year boys didn't notice Mary's presence until she hit the second of them with a body bind. The first she took out with a Trigger-Drop Jinx, summoning his wand when it rolled away, and he hardly noticed, he was so intent on the younger boy.
"Oi!" Rowle, her first victim, shouted as the second one (Higgs) dropped, drawing his friends' attention as he looked around for his wand. "Get out of here, Potter! This isn't your business!"
"Incarcarious!" she shouted in response, directing the spell at the tallest of the boys. With three armed opponents to go (and seven free to try kicking the crap out of her instead of Rhees), she was hardly about to waste time with witty banter. Did he think she was stupid?
Her conjured ropes missed Carmichael by a good foot, and she had to dodge his stunner in return. Damn! She had forgotten how many spells the purebloods knew, even at the beginning of second year. Young and Davis began to copy him, and Mary decided to pull out one of the few area-attack spells that Catherine had taught her over the summer.
"Lumax!" She covered her own eyes at the last possible moment, so as not to give away the purpose of the incantation. The boys screamed as they were blinded by the sudden flash of light, easily twenty times as bright as her standard Light Charm. She was blinking away tears and light-spots herself, despite the protective arm which had shielded her from the blast, as she quickly Incarcerated the remaining second-years, silenced the lot of them, and shoved their wands into her pocket.
The firsties tried to run – after only three and a half days in the castle, even the purebloods with their comparatively impressive collections of schoolyard jinxes clearly didn't feel prepared to fight back against a third-year who had taken out five second-years – but they still couldn't really see where they were going, and they were apparently scared enough to stop when she threatened to haul them back by their shorts.
"Get back inside and wait for me in the common room!" She ordered. She was so angry she wasn't certain until they started helping each other up instead of cowering in fear that she hadn't been speaking Parsel. "Not that way!" she snapped as they looked around in confusion and headed for the nearest staircase. It wouldn't do at all to be caught reprimanding the baby snakes herself. Open she snarled at the secret passage, and stood guard over it as the three first-years carried the petrified Higgs past her, followed by the four other, hobbled boys. "Don't even think of hiding away in your rooms unless you want me taking your wands to Snape over this!" she warned them. The nearest second-year, Carmichael, cringed and nodded.
When the offenders were safely out of earshot, the portrait closed behind them, Mary helped their victim to his feet.
"I didn't need your help," he said sullenly, cradling one arm gingerly with the other.
"I didn't do it for you," she scoffed, running an experienced eye over his still-hunched form. Assuming the pampered purebloods didn't kick any harder than Dudley and his gang, it was probably mostly bruises, and maybe a cracked rib or two, aside from his arm and a spectacular black eye that was already puffing up. He seemed to have been protecting his stomach well enough.
He snorted at this, and then winced at the sudden exhalation.
"What is the first rule of Slytherin?" she asked patiently. Before he could answer, she added, "Or the second? Who do you think is Public Enemy Number One for the Dark houses if the Truce goes out the window?"
He nodded warily after a long moment.
"D'you know where the hospital wing is?"
"Second floor?"
"Yeah, east wing. Towards the mountains. Pomfrey's good about not asking questions if you don't want to answer. Ask a portrait if you get lost, or a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. I've got to go take care of those wankers before Higgs and Davis get their older sibs to let them go."
Dave nodded again, setting his mouth in a grim line and hobbling toward the stairs. Mary shrugged, hoping he wouldn't run into any more disgruntled Slytherins on his way down to Pomfrey, and hissed at the secret passage again. As she swung the portrait – a rather comely young lady dancing with a great ball python wrapped around her torso and shoulders – out to slip behind it, she heard the boy call, "Hey, Potter?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it," she waved him toward the stairs and pulled the portrait closed behind her.
She reached the Common Room just in time to hear Tracey say, "Yeah, twerp, but I'm not cancelling this until you tell me who hexed you and why."
"None of your business!" the younger Davis snapped.
"Well, then," Pansy drawled, "I hardly see that it's our business to help you out, is it?"
"Was it the Gryffindor Lackwits?" That was Draco, and he sounded as though he rather hoped it had been. 'The Gryffindor Lackwits' was his latest nickname for the Weasley-Longbottom duo; their feud had been heating up again as rumors spread that Draco was looking to have Hagrid fired over their first COMC lesson.
"No," a pouty, younger voice answered. "It was Mary Potter. Bloody traitor, she is."
There were murmurs of agreement from the other first and second-years, though the third-years held their tongues. Mary stalked into the room before her classmates could decide whether or not to take the child at his word. "Care to explain to them why I had to kick your stupid little arses?" she asked the boys, assembled in a little huddle before Draco and his clique.
None of the underclassmen spoke up.
"So you wouldn't care to describe how the eight of you were beating on a muggleborn first-year? A fellow Slytherin, mind. In a public corridor, where anyone could have seen you? Slytherin only has three rules, and you managed to break them all this morning." There was a snort from Pansy's direction, but Mary didn't dare let herself be distracted from the troublemakers. If Pansy had a problem, they could sort it out later.
"I'll break it down for you, you squibby little arsewipes, because I'm not sure you're smart enough to get it: I don't care if you think Rhees belongs here or not, the Hat said he did, and you three at least," she pointed at the firsties, "were there when Snape all but said he was off limits, because he's a Slytherin. It's the first fucking rule of Slytherin House that we handle our shite in private. In public, we present a united front, or the rest of the bleeding school will rip us apart.
"Then, then, you useless little wankers thought you'd carry out your little beating in a public corridor, breaking the second rule, because you bloody well got caught. And you're fucking lucky you got caught by me, and not Snape or one of the prefects or one of the fucking Gryffindors – Rhees wouldn't be the only one in the hospital wing if one of them had caught you beating on a muggleborn, even if he is a Snake.
"Why? Because of the fucking Truce! You little jackasses think you're exempt? Even fucking Malfoy here can't get away with that kind of bullshite!"
"Hey! I resent your implication!" Draco interrupted, but only momentarily, because she immediately hissed at him: Shut up, little mouse! He swallowed hard, as all the younger boys flinched. Vinnie and Greg didn't, which made her think more highly of them, though their eyes did widen slightly.
"Cleo's asps, Malfoy. And I'm sure I needn't remind you of the little intervention Zabini held after you brought up Longbottom's parents?" Malfoy made a rude hand gesture at her, but stayed quiet. The girls, Mary noted, looked amused by her little tirade.
"In case you absolute morons need a refresher, you don't get to pick on muggleborns, half-bloods, or blood traitors just because they're muggleborns, half-bloods and blood traitors! We don't talk about the war, but that sure as hell doesn't mean it didn't happen! So unless you want me to give your names to the Weasley Terrors as acceptable targets, you will follow the code!"
"It was just a little hazing," one of the braver first-years grumbled.
"'Hazing' stays in Slytherin," Mary informed him, making sarcastic air-quotes, "and fucking first-years don't get to 'haze' each other. Idiot. Even if this had been hazing, you crossed the line into bullying when it became eight of you little dung-brains on one!
"This is your first and final warning," she concluded, breathing somewhat heavily after yelling more than (she was fairly certain) she ever had before in her life. "Call me a traitor all you damn well please, but I am the Heir of Slytherin, and you will keep the Truce, or I will personally make sure you regret it. Threefold," she added for good measure, before throwing the second-years' wands into a pile on the nearest unoccupied sofa, and spinning on her heel. She stalked off before any of the shocked-looking underclassmen or her variously amused, alarmed, or startled peers could get a word in edgewise.
A slow clap accompanied her as she disappeared down the tunnel to her room to fetch her Potions book. She didn't bother looking around to see who it was, but she suspected Zabini, or maybe Snark, the now-fourth-year who had been a reserve beater on the Quidditch team the year before. They shared a similar sense of humor.
She decided that it would be in her best interests to make herself scarce until class, while she mulled over the likely fall-out from her little rant. She spent the rest of the morning and all of lunch wandering the corridors, thinking and reigning in her growing sense of trepidation as she realized that regardless of how her own yearmates reacted, she had probably just made herself very, very unpopular with at least three-quarters of her house, and depending on exactly how stupid the underclassmen were, she might very well be fending off sneak-attacks all term.
Balls.
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Lilian found Mary about twenty minutes before class, falling into step without a word, and letting the silence persist for nearly two minutes before she delivered the news that Pansy had spilled the beans at lunch on Mary's little intervention. The pug-faced girl apparently told everyone that Mary was taking up for muggleborns and had soundly beaten eight underclassmen in a duel on Rhees' behalf. The news hadn't been particularly well-received. The elder Higgs, Mary's predecessor on the Quidditch team, apparently wanted to have a talk with her, and it was probably a good thing that Rhees hadn't yet returned from the Hospital wing. Mary's only response was a heavy groan. She had truly been hoping that, aside from the threat of Sirius Black and the consequent looming dementors, this would be a quiet year.
At least there was little discussion in Snape's class of the utter hash she had made of that plan. Draco seemed to be far more concerned with his ongoing plan to force his father to let him drop COMC than intra-Slytherin politics. To that end, he was now going around with his arm in a sling, moaning about how very injured he was (even though there couldn't possibly be anything medically wrong with him anymore). This had the amusing (and distracting) side-effect of giving him an excuse to ask Snape to force one of the Gryffindors to do all of his ingredient preparation in potions, which Snape seemed to enjoy. He especially seemed to appreciate the chance to take twenty points from Gryffindor when Neville managed to cut himself while peeling Draco's shrivel fig "for ruining valuable ingredients by bleeding on them, a situation which could easily have been avoided if you had been following proper knife-wielding procedure." He had made the nervous Gryffindor stutter out an explanation of exactly what he had done wrong (cutting toward himself, rather than away) before he was allowed to go to the Hospital Wing.
Draco's moaning and generally being an attention-seeking distraction didn't end with class. The arguments and hallway hexes between Weasley and Longbottom and Draco's clique had increased in frequency and violence throughout the week, to the point that words were exchanged, at the very least, any time they were unsupervised for more than twenty seconds. Mary wouldn't have minded this, especially in light of the fact that it was diverting the attention of her fellow Slytherins from herself (plus sometimes Draco just really needed to be hexed, and when he had been whining about a fake injury for days was one of those times), but she and her friends kept getting caught in the cross-fire, since the Gryffindors still hadn't got it through their thick skulls that just because they were all in Slytherin, didn't mean they were all the same person and responsible for Draco's stupidity.
By dinner, Draco had declared his intentions to get Hagrid fired for real, just because the Gryffindor Lackwits were so intent on saving him. Mary and Lilian had shared a groan at this. Mary, at least, was thinking that she was about to become a target not only to the blood supremacists in Slytherin, but also to the rest of the school (again) for being a Slytherin and an unfortunate member of Draco's year. She was fairly certain Lilian just couldn't stand the stupidity of Draco's declaration.
"You're being a moron!" she had yelled at him across the common room as soon as they returned from the Great Hall. "The hippogriffs were awesome until you ruined it!"
"It's the principle of the thing, Moon!" he had shouted back.
Mary lost track of their argument after that, because Terry Higgs managed to sneak up behind her at that point. "Miss Potter," he growled under his breath. "We need to have a word."
Mary turned around to find not only the former seeker, but his friend Xander Young, their fellow sixth-year Sandra Bletchley, Marcus Flint (who looked almost as irritated as he had the day before, when he confronted her about her "tutoring sessions"), fourth-year Claudius Burke, and, obviously feeling somewhat lost and out of place among the older students, Tracey Davis. Chess and Morgana, looking nearly as nervous as Tracey, hovered near the edge of the group. Well, shit. "What about?" Mary asked, as coolly as she could manage.
"A private word, Potter," Flint qualified.
"Sixth-year girls' parlor is open," Miss Bletchley volunteered.
Mary was not comfortable with this at all. She shifted awkwardly as she tried to think of a way out of what she was certain was about to become a 'hazing' ritual of her own.
Flint seemed to know what she was thinking. "You don't want to have this… conversation in public," he advised her.
She bit her lip in unconscious imitation of Hermione, but followed when Miss Bletchley led the way into one of the tunnels, surrounded by the other upperclassmen. He was right. If she had to take a beating, she'd rather it not be in front of the entire common room. That would ruin any credibility she might have with the younger years entirely. She just hoped Flint cared enough about his seeker to stop the rest of them doing any permanent damage.
The dorm room to which she was taken was slightly crowded, but neatly appointed, with several large, squashy sofas and low coffee tables, as well as a small serving table with a tea-service for six. Two of the girls must have moved in together to free up the space, though Mary didn't know enough about the politics of the sixth year to guess which two might have volunteered (or been volunteered by their peers) to double up, or how they managed to fit two beds in one room, given that the rooms were not that large.
The sixth-years re-arranged the furniture at Flint's direction while Mary stood by, watching in confusion, flanked by the prefects. When the group finally took their seats, she found herself in a hard, upright chair transfigured from the serving table, facing two couches full of variously irritated and bored-looking upperclassmen (and the still-nervous Tracey). The prefects stood behind a coffee table, which had been transfigured to the proper height as a sort of extended lectern, each of them with a roll of parchment and a dicta-quill at the ready. What the hell is going on? she wondered, but before she could ask, Flint stood, addressing the prefects.
"In accordance with the by-laws of Slytherin house, the assembled come before the Slytherin prefects for fair hearing and just settlement."
Mary's jaw nearly hit the floor. They were after official punishment for her? An incredulous "Seriously?" slipped out, but she silenced herself at the Quidditch captain's glare.
"Proceed, Mr. Flint," Chess said formally.
He did so. "I speak on behalf of the families of the aggrieved: Flint, Burke, Bletchley, Young, Higgs, and Davis. Carmichael and Rowle have no family representation here today to witness, but it is understood that as their scions will also be affected by this ruling, I speak in their interest as well."
"Who speaks on behalf of the accused?" Chess asked.
"That's you, Mary," Morgana added. Mary couldn't tell by her tone if she meant to be helpful or not.
Fine. Mary stood. "I speak on behalf of myself, Mary Elizabeth, Heir of House Potter. What the hell am I being accused of, here?"
"Shut up, Potter!" Burke snapped from a sofa. "We'll get there."
The prefects and Flint sent warning glares at both of them.
"Mr. Flint," Morgana said coolly, "Please state the charges against the accused."
"Mr. Augustus Flint, Mr. Lester Burke, and Mr. Travis Bletchley, Slytherin first-years, accuse Miss Potter of threatening them with Parseltongue, public embarrassment, threats of physical and magical harm, and unsanctioned dueling. Mr. Ignotius Carmichael, Mr. Travis Young, Mr. Edward Rowle, Mr. William Higgs, and Mr. Roderick Davis, Slytherin second-years, accuse Miss Potter of use of magical force against an unarmed opponent, use of the Dark Arts, breach of the First and Second rules of Slytherin House, and breach of the truce, in addition to the accusations of the first-years."
"Those lying little bastards!" Mary exclaimed. This was met with a wall of sound as the five seated students leapt to their feet, objecting to her calling their younger brothers and cousins liars. Flint just crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at her. Order was restored after several minutes, when Morgana created a sound like a thunder-clap with her wand.
"Miss Potter," Chess said firmly, "these are very serious accusations. If you continue to interrupt, you will be silenced outside of your turn to speak."
Mary nearly asked her former team mate and fellow ex-conspirator if they really believed this, but managed to hold her tongue.
"Miss Potter," Morgana began, after a beat of silence to prove that Mary was going to comply. "Do you affirm or deny these accusations?"
"Erm… can you repeat the list?" Mary had to ask. She was sure that some of them were untrue, but she definitely had threatened all of them in the common-room, and Tracey had been there to see that, so she couldn't deny all of it outright.
Morgana nodded slightly and gave her the tiniest of smiles. Apparently this was a right answer. "Threatening the first and second-years with Parseltongue."
"That doesn't even make sense, but deny."
"Why doesn't it make sense?" Flint asked.
Mary snorted when she realized that no one was going to reprimand him for talking out of turn. "Parsel is a language, and I'm the only person in this school who speaks it," she pointed out. "You're making it sound like I threatened to speak it at them, which is about as scary as threatening to speak French at them. Maybe less, since I can be insulting in French, and they wouldn't have a clue what I was saying in Parsel."
"Move to re-word the accusation to 'Threatening the aggrieved in Parseltongue,'" Flint said, rolling his eyes.
"Approved," Chess agreed, and Morgana nodded. Mary sighed. That still didn't make sense, because, as she had just said, none of the younger students would know what she was saying, so they couldn't say it was a threat. Besides, she was pretty sure the only person she had actually spoken Parsel to was Draco.
"I still deny it," she said, and Morgana moved on.
"Publically embarrassing the first and second-years."
"What counts as publically?" Mary asked. "We were in an open corridor at first, but there were no witnesses, and then I dressed them down in the Common Room, but most everyone was in class."
"Affirm," Chess decreed.
"I was going to say deny," Morgana hissed.
The prefects began to bicker in harsh undertones. "Chess! Yaxley!" Flint interrupted after a minute. "Mark it as NCD, and move on."
Both prefects glared at the Quidditch captain, but apparently did as he suggested.
"Threats of physical and magical harm," Morgana read off.
"Affirm. What does NCD mean?"
"It means you neither confirm nor deny the accusation due to ambiguity in the accusation and the chain of events that needs to be resolved in the debate," Higgs explained from the sidelines, in a tone suggesting Mary was an idiot for not knowing.
"Unsanctioned dueling against the first and second-years," Morgana pressed forward.
"Neither confirm nor deny," Mary smirked.
"Use of magical force against an unarmed opponent."
"Deny." All of the little shits had been armed when the fight started.
"Use of the Dark Arts."
"Deny." Mary couldn't even imagine what they were calling "Dark Arts." None of the spells she had used were dark.
"Breach of the First Rule."
"Deny." She was sure it didn't count as breaking the First Rule if she was intervening to stop them from continuing to break it.
"Breach of the Second Rule."
"Deny." That was just ridiculous. She hadn't been caught doing anything. They had just accused her of all the things she caught the underclassmen doing.
"And breach of the Truce."
For this one, Mary pulled out all the stops, and with her best Snape impression declared, "Deny. Categorically."
"All right," Morgana looked back at her list. "So we have to debate the accusations of public embarrassment and unsanctioned dueling, and determine a punishment for threatening physical and magical harm. Does the speaker for the families aggrieved wish to pursue further any of the accusations denied?"
"The speaker for the families aggrieved seeks recess for counsel," Flint declared.
The prefects nodded as though this was expected, and Chess said that they could have five minutes to discuss. Morgana started a timer. Flint cast some sort of privacy spell around the two sofas, and Mary watched with the prefects as the upperclassmen fell into a silent argument.
"Morgana? Chess? What the hell is going on?" she asked plaintively once they were firmly distracted.
Morgana sniggered. "Well, all the little dung-brained squiblets you beat up went crying to their older siblings and cousins, and most of them want to scalp you for the insult to their families or use this as an excuse to take a swing at you outside the Truce. Flint knows you, obviously, and doesn't actually want his star seeker constantly under attack, so he's taken up on your side, which is lucky, because as the oldest defendant and the representative of the oldest House you offended, he's more or less in charge of their side, and was able to force them into this, rather than jumping you in one of the abandoned corridors."
Mary nodded. That was slightly reassuring, but it didn't really answer her question. "But what's with the mock court thing?"
"Slytherin by-laws," Chess explained. "There's a formal protocol for bringing grievances to the prefects for settlement, even though it's hardly ever used. It's more or less based on the way the Wizengamot tries cases, but instead of the Minister and the Representatives voting on the outcome and punishment, we do that. And since there's only the two of us, we have to come to a consensus," he added, making a face.
Now that he mentioned it, Mary did recall reading something about the Slytherin by-laws back at the very beginning of her first year, but she had put most of it out of her head, because recourse to formal reparations and self-government in general was reserved for third-year students and up. If she remembered correctly, the reason given in the handbook was that first and second-years were not considered responsible enough to bring only serious matters before the prefects' council, which she had thought was very patronizing at the time, but just talking to the prefects or their Head of House informally was much simpler, so she hadn't been that offended. Now, facing the spurious accusations of a handful of midgets (even indirectly, through their older relatives), she could see the sense in that rule.
"How'd you get stuck playing judge and jury?" she asked, somewhat curious as to how she had managed to get the only pair of prefects she knew personally as her judges when she hadn't realized that she was going to be on trial at all.
"Arbitrators," Morgana corrected. "And either Flint is sabotaging his own side, or Farley and Moon threw us to the kraken as the newbies."
"Could be both," Chess speculated.
Mary bit her lip. "What comes next?"
"That lot need to decide which, if any, of the denials they want to pursue. We'll ask for the series of events, and debate any discrepancies between what they claim and what you claim happened. You have the advantage there, since none of the aggrieved are actually old enough to testify, so it's all hearsay on their side, but they'll probably try to claim you're making it up because it's your word against that of a bunch of kids who can't be here," the boy explained.
"Great. Any advice?"
"Ask for a Truth Charm," Morgana suggested. "After the sequence of events, we debate whether your actions fit the definition of any of the accusations. You do get to defend yourself at that point. And then Chess and I have to declare a recess to deliberate and go work out a punishment based on the Big Book of Precedents. Depending on how long that takes, we'll let you know either right away, later tonight, or tomorrow at lunch what it's going to be."
Mary sighed. She was probably going to end up with even more detention, but that beat getting cursed into hospital by the upperclassmen by a long mile.
In due time, Chess announced that they needed to resume, and Flint declared that they would drop the Parseltongue and Dark Arts accusations, leaving only the most serious offences to defend. Morgana requested the sequence of events, first from Flint, then from Mary. The story Flint recounted had the eight underclassmen loitering innocently in the fifth-floor corridor, the second-years showing their younger friends around the castle, when Mary appeared and began an unprovoked attack. The long-suffering tone in which he reported made it clear that even he didn't believe that was really what happened.
It was still infuriating. Mary was stewing by the time it was her turn to speak. "That's not what happened at all!" she blurted out when Flint finally finished recounting her storming out of the common room, leaving a quivering group of underclassmen behind her.
"It's your word against my little brother and his friends," Flint pointed out.
"Ugh! Fine, then!" She nearly stamped her foot in frustration. "I request a Truth Charm to verify my account of the events in question," she snapped, sitting back in her uncomfortable chair, ready to stubbornly refuse to say anything more until they complied.
After nearly ten minutes of debate on which charms to use, who should cast them, whether Mary might be an occlumens capable of fooling said charms, and exactly how much of an idiot Sandra Bletchley had to be to make such a suggestion, Chess and Flint each cast the Venetian Veracity Indicator on her, and the others took turns asking questions to ensure they had done it correctly. Their wands glowed with white light that shifted green when she told the truth, red when she lied, and a whole range of other shades when she was unsure of the answer or intentionally tried to omit pertinent information. It was, she thought, a very cool spell. She would have to ask Morgana why they hadn't just used that instead of Veritaserum the year before.
Mary told the whole truth and nothing but the truth about the day's events, both her accuser's and the judge's wands glowing a cool green throughout.
Flint, it seemed, had not been expecting anything less, because he just rolled his eyes at Mary, Morgana, and Chess before addressing the arbitrators. "As the speaker for the aggrieved, I hereby move to drop the charges of breaching the first and second rules and the Truce, and attacking unarmed students."
"Approved," Chess nodded, and Morgana confirmed, "Noted."
The older students grumbled among themselves for a moment, but none of them objected. Tracey looked even more embarrassed and uncomfortable than she had at the beginning of the inquiry.
Morgana consulted her notes before she spoke again: "The floor is now open for debate on the counts of public embarrassment."
Bletchley tried to make a case that it was unwarranted to call her little brother a squib in front of whomever might have been listening in the common room, but Flint overrode her with a glare. "We'll drop that one, too." Insulting other students in public might have been offensive, but it was nothing which actually required arbitration, and if Bletchley retaliated with hexes on behalf of her brother, it would only fuel rumors that he really was squibby, and unable to do so himself.
"Right, then," Chess grinned. "Moving on, debate on the counts of unsanctioned dueling."
"It wasn't a duel," Mary objected before any of the others could. "I was defending the truce and a Slytherin first-year."
Higgs snorted. "That mudblood hardly counts as a Slytherin, so far as I'm concerned."
Burke apparently agreed. "Where do you get off hexing proper scions of pureblood houses on behalf of a muggle piece of shite like that?" he asked, obviously rhetorically.
"Obviously she always was a blood traitor, Claude," Bletchley answered, glaring at Mary.
"She's not, though," Young said quietly, speaking for the first time since they entered the room, Mary thought.
"Oh, belt up, Young," Burke demanded of the older boy.
Young just raised an eyebrow at him, the degree of condescension in his expression worthy of Snape. "I think you will find, Burke, that 'Blood Traitor' in a legal context refers to those who have betrayed their family in word or deed, regardless of the broader social connotations it has taken on in the past three decades." Burke and Bletchely both blushed furiously. "As the only remaining scion of the House of Potter, it is, in fact, impossible for Miss Potter to be a Blood Traitor. Refusal to adhere to your political philosophy is not sufficient grounds for such a denigration of her character."
"Thank you, Xander," Flint said courteously, as Higgs glared daggers at his friend. "Do any of you have anything else to add to the debate? Anything relevant," he added, as Bletchely opened her mouth again. She closed it.
Burke tried one more time. "If the muggle can't take care of himself, he doesn't deserve to be in Slytherin!"
"Bullshit!" Mary snapped. "The Hat put him here, and it's not like he was wingeing and begging for help like your useless excuses for relatives. I intervened because the Truce is sacred. If you all want to throw it out the window and make Hogwarts into a war-zone, go ahead, but it's all or nothing." She crossed her arms and threw herself back into her chair. As far as she was concerned, that was the crux of the matter: they had broken the Truce, and she had defended it, as was the right and responsibility of anyone who valued the relative state of peace it allowed Magical Britain to maintain.
"She has a point," Flint said, with a pointed look at the others. Young and Tracey nodded (the latter somewhat hesitantly) while Burke, Bletchley, and Higgs refused to meet his eye. "If there are no further points to be made, the aggrieved rest their debate." None of the representatives of the aggrieved protested.
"Does the accused also rest the debate?" Morgana asked.
"Umm… yes?" Mary certainly couldn't think of anything else to add.
"Right, then. We'll take a short recess for discussion," Chess declared before performing some kind of silencing charm on himself and Morgana. Their words fuzzed out into a buzz of white noise. Mary watched them carefully as they apparently debated whether the various charges would stick. After a few minutes, Morgana pulled a shrunken book out of her bag and enlarged it to the size of a paving stone. They cast several spells on it, hurriedly flipping pages, and apparently arguing over what had to be precedents.
On the other side of the room, Flint had cast a similar charm, and appeared to be defending himself to an irate Bletchley and Burke. Higgs looked grumpy, but not nearly as angry as the other two. He was just glaring at Young as though the other sixth-year had betrayed him by pointing out that Mary wasn't actually a Blood Traitor just because she wasn't a blood purist, though Mary herself was fairly certain he had only said that because Burke had been such a wanker, having the gall to tell a sixth-year to belt up.
After about ten minutes of these silent plays, Chess and Morgana apparently reached an agreement, and he cancelled their spell.
"Oi, Flint!" Chess called, the formality with which he had begun the proceedings suffering somewhat as they wore on. "Recess is over."
The opposing side quickly doused their arguments, and Flint rejoined Mary in standing before the arbitrators.
"We do not uphold the accusation of unsanctioned dueling," Chess announced. "However, the testimony of the accused does bear evidence of one incident of unsupervised use of magic in the corridors and five counts of unsupervised use of magic on another student. Given the spells listed under truth charm, with no indication of falsehood or withholding of information, there appears to have been no intent to harm."
"Following the established precedents," Morgana took over, "we assign one one-hour detention for each of these counts, along with half an hour for each of the eight counts of threats of physical or magical harm which the accused has affirmed, for a total of ten hours, to be served with the Head of Slytherin house, or as he so delegates."
"Also following the testimony of the accused, we find Mr. Ignotius Carmichael, Mr. Roderick Davis, and Mr. Travis Young culpable in one incident of unsupervised use of magic in the corridors. We find Mr. Ignotius Carmichael, Mr. Roderick Davis, Mr. William Higgs, Mr. Edward Rowle, Mr. Travis Young, Mr. Travis Bletchley, Mr. Lester Burke, and Mr. Augustus Flint culpable in one count each of deliberate physical harm to another student."
"Given the relative ages and competency of the students, in accordance with the established precedents, we assign Mr. Ignotius Carmichael, Mr. Roderick Davis, and Mr. Travis Young eleven hours of detention each; Mr. William Higgs and Mr. Edward Rowle ten hours of detention each; and Mr. Travis Bletchley, Mr. Lester Burke, and Mr. Augustus Flint five hours of detention each, to be served with the Head of Slytherin House, or as he so delegates," Morgana concluded in a steely tone.
"Furthermore," Chess said with a nervous swallow, "We issue an official warning to the representatives of the families aggrieved, Mr. Marcus Flint, Miss Sandra Bletchley, Mr. Terrence Higgs, Mr. Alexander Young, Mr. Claudius Burke, and Miss Tracey Davis. Seven of the nine accusations for which you demanded arbitration were dropped over the course of the questioning and debate, constituting a spurious waste of time. Should you bring such spurious charges for arbitration in the future, you risk punishment for wasting the prefects' time."
Flint nodded as though this was only expected, which caused Chess to relax significantly. The others' expressions ranged from mildly irritated to red-faced and furious.
Morgana smirked at them. "Should the aggrieved or the accused wish to appeal the decision of this arbitration, you may do so at the full Prefects' Council on the fifteenth of September or directly with the Head of Slytherin House. Unless and until such an appeal is made, the matters discussed tonight shall be considered settled, with no retaliation by either party outside of the punishments delivered. Representatives of the families aggrieved, please make it clear to the aggrieved that retaliation will be considered a blow to the authority of the Slytherin Prefects, and will be punished accordingly, in addition to the standard punishment for the retaliatory actions."
Flint bowed slightly to the arbitrators. "Thank you, prefects." He ushered the rest of his side out the door without another word.
Mary followed warily. Apparently Flint sent them back to the Common Room, because he caught her alone just outside to say, "You owe me, Potter."
Mary nodded. If she understood everything that had just happened (and she wasn't sure she did), Flint had just made certain that neither the first and second-years nor their families could start hexing her in the corridors for her actions that morning, at least without getting in a lot of trouble for bringing up issues that the prefects had officially declared settled. She needed to re-read the Handbook before she could be certain, but on the whole, owing Flint (another) favor and ten hours of detention seemed like a relatively light punishment, given the weeks of torment to which she had nearly resigned herself before the arbitration. "Thanks, Flint," she said quietly.
He gave her the snort of approval that generally followed a perfectly executed drill at Quidditch practice. "Gus was being a whiney little brat," he said. "The Truce is more important than being able to brag to Father about putting a muggleborn in his place."
"Are you going to get in trouble for helping me?" she had to ask.
"No more than for getting you out of Snape's detentions. You are the Slytherin seeker, after all," he reminded her. "But you still owe me."
"Yeah, alright," Mary smirked, deciding that she was, on the whole, pleased with the day's work.
Friday, 3 September 1993
Hogwarts
Mary was less pleased the following morning, when she received a note at breakfast informing her that Snape had already scheduled her additional hours of detention: that very evening, from eight to ten, Monday and Wednesday from seven to ten, and next Friday from eight to ten as well. She groaned and let her head drop to the table with a dull thunk.
"What's wrong?" Lilian asked, adding liberal amounts of honey to her tea.
Mary shoved the note at her without a word, refusing to raise her head.
She could hear the older girl grinning as she said, "Could be worse. At least you're getting it over with, yeah?"
That was, she had to admit, true. And the note said to report to Snape's office, rather than to Filch, so there was some hope that the punishment wouldn't be completely horrible. Lines, or sorting ingredients, maybe, instead of scrubbing floors or polishing armor. But it was still an awful lot of hours to fit into the first real week of classes, never mind their Saturday detentions, from one until whenever it was over. With her new classes, she already had much less free time on her hands than in her previous years. At this rate, she would have to spend every free second of the next week working on homework.
"Next time you see me about to do something nice for someone, remind me of this," she grumbled into the table.
"Sure thing!" Lilian said, too brightly for the early hour, and Mary groaned at her again, as dramatically as she could, before hauling herself off to Arithmancy.
In an attempt to be at least somewhat responsible with her time, Mary retired to the library between her morning classes to begin the homework which was already piling up for Monday and Tuesday. She had only just begun her first Charms essay of the year when a series of Honking Hexes struck her from behind. Madam Pince, never one to show mercy even to those whose disturbances were not their own fault, threw her out at once. The caster of the hexes did not follow her out, so Mary couldn't have said whether it was one of the third-year Gryffindors, who were now declaring some sort of war over Malfoy's insistence that he would see Hagrid fired, or one of the firsties she had humiliated the day before. The only reason she ruled out the second-years was that she would have expected them to use a curse with more painful and longer lasting effects than a single foghorn-like belch.
Lunch was miserable – Lilian spent the whole meal complaining that she thought she might somehow have jinxed herself, because in their second lesson, Hagrid had over-corrected. They were now learning about the care and keeping of flobberworms, which were decidedly boring. All you had to do to keep a flobberworm alive was leave it alone, with an option on give it some lettuce every few days. After what she categorically informed Mary was the longest and most boring hour and a half of her life, including first-period History of Magic classes on the formation of the Wizengamot, she had decided that Malfoy was right – Hagrid had to go.
Malfoy, predictably, was obnoxiously condescending about Lilian joining his crusade, but he did, after fifteen minutes of Lilian's ranting, magnanimously allow her to do so. Mary rolled her eyes at the whole affair. He was still wearing the stupid sling, and pretending he couldn't use his arm in public, though everyone had seen him using it in the common room plenty of times since the 'accident.'
The drama that was Care of Magical Creatures (and chatter about said drama, which neatly distracted Mary from any further attempts to do homework between classes) carried the Slytherins as a whole through until the end of the day, when they finally attended their last new class, "Slytherin Emergency Resources, Protocols, and Conduct."
As they had discovered over the course of the day since it had been posted, no one other than the third-years could see the advertisement for the class. They were not sure whether this was because Snape liked to be sneaky about everything, or to conserve notice board space, but because of the selective nature of the notice (and the fact that no one had ever mentioned it to any of them prior to this year), it was taken as a matter of course that they should not discuss it with the younger students, or anyone from another house. Mary and Lilian didn't even tell Hermione (which was admittedly easier than it might have been, given that the Ravenclaw was already buried under five electives' worth of homework).
Ostensibly, according to the upper years (who were more forthcoming now that the girls knew the name of the class they were asking about), the lessons would be about learning all the different Slytherin emergency protocols, such as the ones that the prefects had used to save them from the Troll in first year. In reality, however, both Mary and Lilian suspected that they would be learning far more than who did what in any given evacuation. No class taught by Snape could really be so straightforward and boring as this one sounded.
Until breakfast and the assignment of her latest detentions, Mary had rather been looking forward to this new class, and finding out exactly what Snape had planned for them. Now, however, she was beginning to think that her life might include slightly too much Snape this week, between Potions, the new class, the new detention, and the upcoming Saturday detention, about which she had to admit, she was a little anxious. Snape's detentions were normally fairly easy-going for Slytherins. If he wanted them really punished, he normally delegated to Filch. But in this case, they were being punished for making and using illegal potions, which was something he took very seriously, and Mary had a sneaking suspicion that he had come up with something truly horrible. He had, after all, had all summer to plan.
Mary and Lilian slipped quietly from the Great Hall after dinner, making their way to the classroom to find it largely empty. Only Theo had managed to reach it before them. Over the next several minutes, the rest of their class trickled in, chattering amongst themselves, but falling silent in confusion as the appointed time passed, and Snape did not appear. Snape was never late. At five minutes past, Mary checked the time and place she had copied into her day planner. It definitely said seven, and the classroom number was correct.
"How long should we wait?" Lilian whispered from the next desk.
Mary shrugged. "It's Professor Snape. He's probably testing our patience or something."
Theo smirked, but said nothing as Draco snorted. "I could just as easily say he's testing our gullibility, and we should leave, before he catches us all following instructions from a note," the blond said scornfully.
"Well, leave, then," Daphne said. "No one's stopping you."
"Maybe we will!" Pansy claimed, but made no move to get up.
"Yeah, right, Parkinson. When have you ever not done what you're told?" Lilian goaded the other girl.
Blaise joined in a moment later with a disparaging comment about Draco's arm, and soon the more outspoken half of the class (Lilian, Blaise, Draco, Pansy, and Tracey) were involved in a heated exchange of insults to the amusement of their quieter friends. After about five minutes, Theo caught Mary's eye and made a shushing gesture before and nodding surreptitiously to a corner. Snape was leaning casually against the wall, smirking at his charges.
After she spotted him, Mary quickly looked around, trying to determine who else had seen him. Theo, obviously, and Millicent. Vinnie and Greg were too wrapped up in the spectacle, as were Draco, Pansy, Tracey, and Lilian, but Blaise winked at her when he caught her staring. Either he was still being weirdly flirty, or he had seen their Head of House, and was doing a much better job than she was of pretending he hadn't.
Eventually, everyone but Draco and Lilian looked around, and, on spotting the man, dropped out of the contest of insults. Blaise and Theo seemed to be having a silent conversation that consisted entirely of eyebrow raises and darting looks at the two still hissing at each other. Daphne, apparently tired of waiting, flicked a wad of spare parchment into Draco's face, at which point he finally looked up and spotted the man behind her.
He failed to fully hide his surprise, and Lilian realized what must have happened almost at once. She went very pink as she turned to face the front of the room.
"Good evening," the professor said cordially, moving to stand in front of the lectern.
"Good evening, Professor Snape," the class chorused.
"In answer to your question I was testing neither your patience nor your credulity, but your powers of observation. Nott and Zabini passed. The rest of you failed, having had to be alerted to my presence by one of the others.
"Welcome to Slytherin Emergency Resources, Protocols, and Conduct, sometimes referred to as 'Introduction to Slythering.'" He made a face which suggested that he had not been the one to come up with that name. Mary thought it was kind of cute. (The name not the face.) "It will be held every Friday in this room, from seven until eight PM. Attendance is mandatory.
"If you think back to the events of your first year, you will recall an incident with a troll being released, supposedly into the dungeons, whereupon Slytherin House was ordered by the Headmaster to return to said dungeons. Just last year, the entire school was on lockdown for three days pursuant to the events surrounding the opening of the Chamber of Secrets. There have been no fewer than twenty-two other minor emergency situations outside of the usual classroom mishaps during the two years of your tenure here, ranging from students lost in the far reaches of the castle to the escape of a manticore from a NEWT Care of Magical Creatures class." Mary briefly wondered what the others were, then flushed when she realized that her interactions with Quirrell and the Veritaserum Conspiracy exploits had probably been on the list. "This class is designed to teach you how to deal with just such situations. Here you will learn the emergency protocols, decision-making skills and spells which serve to make Slytherin House the best-prepared in the school for any attack or accident.
"First term will be largely devoted to learning the proper response to various scenarios, the roles of each class and the prefects in such cases, and how to alert the proper authorities, ie, myself or a prefect, should you become aware of a dangerous situation within the castle, even in the event that you are trapped somewhere in the castle without your wand. Second term will be devoted to the concepts of strategic thinking and planning, evaluating the relative dangers of a given situation and the merits of any given action in said situation.
"The roster of spells we will cover includes what are frequently referred to as the Slytherin Sneaking Spells – Anti-tracking, Footfall-masking, Scent-elimination, visual concealment charms, et cetera; the most basic of healing spells – Disinfecting, Wound Sealing, and the Greek Setting Spells; and basic emergency charms, including Messenger, Flame Freezing and Bubblehead Charms." All the students were scribbling frantically, making notes of the promised spells. Mary exchanged a look with Lilian, confirming that the other girl was as excited as herself for this new class.
"It ought to go without saying that you are not to mention this class to anyone outside of the House or to any first or second-year Slytherins. You have been invited because after two years in this madhouse we are pleased to call a school, you understand the dangers and the need for such a class, some, perhaps, better than others. I believe that you can be counted upon to take this class seriously, and to use the knowledge you gain responsibly, in accordance with the Two House Rules of Slytherin. Do not disappoint me in this." Snape finally paused in his lecture to give each of the students a hard, personal stare.
"At the end of the year, anyone who desires to become a prefect will submit an application to me. I will choose from among those of you who apply based on your performance in this class. If you are chosen, you will attend Prefect Training next year with the fifth, sixth, and seventh-year prefects. Questions?"
No one raised a hand.
"Very well, then. We will begin with basic emergency scenarios, and work our way to more complex. Firstly, in the event that you are lost in the castle without your wand, due, no doubt, to some malicious action on the part of others, and no fault of your own, as I know none of you would possibly be so stupid as to leave your rooms without your wands…"
The next half hour passed incredibly quickly. Mary was certain she learned more about the castle and its safeguards for students than she had ever imagined existed in all her wandering and exploring throughout her first year, though they also learned no fewer than seventeen ways that students had been seriously injured or lost within the building itself. Still, there was no homework, and on the whole she felt that the class ended their official week on a high note.
}{-}{-}{-}{-}{
Mary's week, of course, was not over: she still had two hours of detention scheduled for the evening ahead. When Snape released the class, Mary followed him back to his office, where he took his usual seat, and gestured for her to take one as well.
"Mary Elizabeth," he greeted her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk which, Mary thought, held a hint of amusement.
Mary mirrored his expression as well as she could. "Professor Snape."
"The prefects inform me that you have taken up arms on behalf of young Rhees."
"I was defending the Truce," Mary pointed out, uncertain whether defending Rhees would be considered a good thing, but secure in her knowledge that the Truce was sacred.
"And a first-year muggleborn."
Mary shrugged. "I would have done the same for a pureblood," she scowled. "It was eight on one. I don't like bullies."
The professor sighed. "You know this will not be the end of it," he noted. "The arbitration ruling will keep the older students from interfering, but it will have no effect on the first and second-years' behavior."
"I'm not interfering either, unless Rhees asks me to. But if I catch them breaking the Truce again, I'll set the Weasleys on them," Mary said grimly.
She had the distinct impression that Snape relaxed a bit, though there was no outward shift in his expression or appearance. He nodded, and slid a book across his desk toward Mary. "Your detention tonight will entail copying from this book. Begin with chapter six. You will spend your Monday and Wednesday detentions next week translating your copy into English, and your Friday detention writing an essay on why you have been assigned this particular punishment."
Mary wasn't sure if this was a good punishment, or a horrible one – any kind of translation was more difficult than just writing lines, but it was almost bound to be more interesting, and probably more useful, too. She nodded her acceptance of the task and took the book, flipping through it as Snape transfigured the second student chair into a small desk and levitated it into a corner where she would be out of the way, and he could still keep an eye on her as he graded Potions assignments. Faced with a wall of Latin text, of which she recognized perhaps one word in every line, she sighed. This was going to be much more difficult than copying lines.
De Patrocinio Societatem Magicam (Castor Geraldi, 1709)
VI: De Patrocinio Magorum Primogenitorum
Magi primogeniti patrocinium susciperet sententiam complexus est. Multa sunt beneficia ad familiam stabilam et magum primogenitum, sed sunt utraque quaedam onera, quae, ut gravia sociali sint...
[I spent way too long trying to make the Latin Mary has to translate work out correctly. Forgive me if it's still wrong – It's been years since I studied it. I meant it to be translated as:
"On Patronage [within] Magical Society (Castor Geraldi, 1709)
Ch. 6: On Patronage of a Firstborn Mage [muggleborn]
The decision to undertake the patronage of a muggleborn is complex. There are many benefits to both the established household and the muggleborn, but there are also some responsibilities for both [parties], which may be socially onerous…"
But if you put it in google translate, all you'll get back is gibberish.]