It hasn't even been half a year! Are you guys proud of me? XD
Yeah, anyway, let's hope I can keep this up, now that I'm no longer schooling.
In other news, there's actually another chapter after this one, a second interlude/feature, if you will. It was originally supposed to be a part of this one, but the chapter was getting really long, so I split it. So, read the chapter, and then, well, I'll get to it after you're done reading it.
Oh, and before I forget, Avon_Go has written an AU Chapter 3 of Scintillare (you know, the chapter 3 that I haven't written yet?) on AO3, so you can go check it out if you'd like~ The title is Krachen.
And to guest reader TypeABnormal: Thanks a lot for your compliments XD I hope my writing will continue to meet your expectations~
Pairings: Potential Hadria (FemHarry) x Tom Riddle, but more platonic than romantic, other pairings undecided.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
Beta-ed by: Miso_sleepy
Chapter Twenty: A Slytherin Victory
"Mus uni non fidit antro." The mouse does not rely on just one hole. ~ Plautus
The next few days passed as ordinarily as any day in Hogwarts could. There wasn't really anything to do till the End-of-Term Feast and the end of the school year, so everyone was having a well-deserved break after the hectic exams. In another time, in another life, Hadria would've been stuck in the Hospital Wing for at least three days after an eventful encounter with a possessed Professor, but not in this one.
"Did you hear?" Pansy began, as they sprawled on the warm grass by the Black Lake. Or rather, Hadria was sprawling without any care for decorum or her appearance, while most of her friends were seated around a rather luxurious picnic spread.
"Pray tell what gossip thou hast heard this fine morn," said Blaise as he busied himself with stringing small spiders into Hadria's hair. An initiation, a family tradition, he'd told her, a rite of passage that meant he had accepted her as one of his own. Hadria couldn't tell if he was serious or just bullshitting, but didn't see any harm in letting him have his fun. After all, she didn't have a phobia of spiders... even though she would certainly rather not meet Aragog or his kin ever again.
For a moment, Pansy stared at what he was doing and shuddered, glad Blaise hadn't included her in anything of the sort. Then she leaned in—and away from Hadria's hair—and in conspiratorial whisper, said, "Well, I heard that Quirrell has died! "
"That's nonsense! How can a Professor drop dead so easily?" Hermione refuted. On her other side, Neville, who had been examining some sort of semi-aquatic plant, paused and looked up.
"Oh, I'm not saying he died," said Pansy dismissively. "I'm just saying I heard he died. The facts are that he's gone missing. Nobody has seen him in the Great Hall for dinners, and the other Professors have been rather... grave, you know."
They had noticed, of course. Most notably, Professor Snape hadn't taken points off any Gryffindor for three days straight, which, according to the older years, was practically a record.
"Wouldn't they have announced it? If he died?" Neville asked.
"Perhaps they'll announce it at the Feast," said Hadria, lazily. She reached out a hand overhead and Blaise handed her a bun. "Who knows, Quirrell could've contracted something during his travels, and has finally succumbed to it."
She tossed the bun into the Lake, and a few seconds later, a large tentacle erupted from the water, surprising everyone else who was by the Lake (including her group of friends) and inciting the laughter of those who were further away, and thus out of the splash-range.
"I would have preferred if you'd give us some warning," Pansy muttered indignantly, after the bank was spectacularly drenched.
Hadria waved a hand like she was waving away Pansy's frustration. "Didn't the charm work fine? None of us got wet, and neither did our food."
"So, apparently Quirrell's—I say, what's going on?" Draco, who had just arrived, took a moment to survey the scene, from shrieking wet students to Hadria, whose raven black hair was now decorated with living accessories. Pansy had decidedly seated herself the furthest away from the girl.
After filling Draco in, they learnt that he had, on his way back from the Owlery, overheard Professor Snape speak with some of the other Professors about Quirrell's unfortunate demise. No doubt their Head of House had spoken louder than he should have got Draco to overhear.
"So he's dead then? Really dead?" said Pansy.
"They were discussing funeral arrangements, so yes. It appears they're considering cremation."
"Cremation?" Hermione frowned and glanced at Hadria for a moment. "Did they say how he died?"
Draco merely shrugged. "It wasn't brought up, though it sounds like however he died, it wasn't a pretty sight."
"Well, he couldn't have been murdered. Surely we'd be informed straight away if there was a murderer in the school," Pansy reasoned, only to facepalm when she saw Blaise flipping up the green-lined hood of his school robes. "Right. I can't believe I actually forgot about that for a moment."
Hermione was bewildered, not seeing the connection between Blaise's actions and Pansy's words.
"About what?" She asked.
When none of the other Slytherins deigned to answer, Hadria flapped a hand in dismissal, still sprawled halfway off the mat and on the grass.
"Never mind that. Maybe he just fell off one of the moving staircases or something. Doesn't have to be anything dramatic or insidious about it."
Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. "Well I do hope it wasn't a contagious disease he got from overseas. Though I suppose the Professors ought to have been screened for that sort of thing. Cremation. I still don't like the sound of it."
"What they should have screened for is competency ," Draco scoffed. "Sweet Salazar, if next year's Professor is as useless as this one, I will murder someone."
Hadria simply coughed lightly to hide a laugh, and startled a number of spiders.
The Great Hall was decorated in Slytherin colours for the End-of-Term Feast, much like it had in her previous life. Despite the fierce competition with Ravenclaw, Slytherin had finally emerged victorious, and Hadria was sure Draco would rub it in Hermione's face later. He had, after all, been very adamant in making sure they earned more House points in class than her throughout the year.
The Professors—barring Dumbledore—were all already seated at the High Table, amongst which Professor Snape looked the most indifferent—quite a feat, considering how he still had a grim face on. But other Professors, like Professor McGonagall, looked like they'd all been force-fed lemon drops by Dumbledore. There was a large silver serpent coiled upon the largest centre-most green banner behind the High Table.
"He looks positively smug," said Draco cheerfully, as they took their seats at their table. "Seven years in a row! Even Quirrell's death couldn't possibly dampen his mood."
Well , Hadria thought. That must be why McGonagall's complexion looks the worst, then.
And this time around, there wouldn't be any last-minute point-giving. Ron Weasley and his current friends—Dean and Seamus—hadn't been up to any misadventures, as far as Hadria knew, let alone fighting with giant chess sets. Hermione was in Ravenclaw and although she had done a spectacular job in earning House points in class, it was nothing Dumbledore would show favouritism for. Neville was positively flourishing in Hufflepuff, and hadn't had the need to stop any reckless friend or Housemate from risking their necks.
As for Hadria, well, even if anyone had guessed at her role in preventing Quirrell from getting the Stone, she was in Slytherin, the winning House. The only thing Dumbledore could possibly do now, to stop Slytherin from winning the House Cup, was probably to accuse her of stealing the Stone. But even that had little chance of happening, simply because Dumbledore would have no proof of her crime at all, if he had even discovered that the stone was a fake yet.
And just as Hadria was wondering when he'd turn up, the wizard himself entered the Great Hall, still decked out in eye-watering robes that only seemed marginally less loud than usual.
"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said, as the chatter died down and everyone turned to look at him. "And what a year it has been! But I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. Firstly, I know many of you are anticipating the awarding of the House Cup. The points stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and forty-seven points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and eighty-three; Ravenclaw has four hundred and sixty-five, and Slytherin, four hundred and ninety-one."
A deafening wave of cheering erupted from the Slytherin table, and Hadria joined her friends in knocking their goblets together, as if there were any alcohol in there.
But—Was there a but? Hadria watched as Dumbledore waited for the noise to die down. She was probably the only one who realised that there was likely to be more.
"Well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore, when the Slytherins had gotten the initial bout of cheering out of their systems. Almost immediately, the entire House stilled. It was probably a Slytherin thing, or perhaps something trained from the moment when they thought there was a conspiracy afoot and began taking countermeasures as a House. Nonetheless, they had all noticed, picked up something from Dumbledore's tone. It wasn't something good.
Hadria held her breath.
"Now, onto the second point of my speech... As many of you might have noticed, Professor Quirrell has not joined us this evening. And I must announce, with great regret, that he passed away three nights ago. So tonight, let us observe a moment of silence for him, and perhaps, let it be a reminder to us that nothing in life is ever certain, and we should always expect the unexpected."
With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore turned all hanging banners a solemn white and black. And the Great Hall was silent.
Everyone had some idea, by then, that Quirrell was dead. Some had been disconcerted by the idea, that someone that had been walking and breathing among them was no more, but most of the students weren't close to the Professor—and quite the contrary, for he had been a joke of a teacher, and had been around for only a year. Thus, many were indifferent to his death, some even relieved, by it, though they might not admit it. However, as Dumbledore had just said, expect the unexpected. And none of them had expected him to plunge the Hall into such gravity for him.
(Hadria mused that the only time she recalled the Great Hall being graver than this at the End-of-Term Feast, was in her Fourth year, in her previous life.)
The Slytherins, in particular, were all very, so very still and so very quiet. Hadria could almost taste the barely contained outrage simmering beneath the forced calm of the House.
So she simply took a sip of pumpkin juice from her goblet. Blaise raised an eyebrow at her from across the table and she suppressed a smile.
Expect the unexpected. Except that she had expected it. Not Quirrell's impromptu mourning session, of course, since nothing of the sort had happened in her previous life, but she had expected Dumbledore to find an excuse not to give Slytherin the satisfaction of a seventh End-of-Term victory. And thus, she was fully prepared for the occasion.
She counted.
(Three.)
She knew how the Slytherins must feel to have their victory waved in front of them before it was snatched and burned in front of them. She hadn't considered this the last time she was eleven, young as she had been, and all too pleased with Gryffindor's victory, but she knew now that it was a terrible thing to do, regardless of the reason.
(Two.)
Respect for the dead must be had, and no matter how much she disliked Quirrell, this fact remained, especially since he was really just someone who made the wrong choices and was paying for it with his life. So, she waited. A moment of silence for the dead, she was willing to give. And then, she would return her House the joy they deserved.
(One.)
The doors of the Great Hall burst open, and Peeves shot in like a rocket.
"WE WISH YOU A MERRY VICTORY, WE WISH YOU A MERRY VICTORY, WE WISH YOU A MERRY VICTORY~~"
The Poltergeist was decked in green and silver like a jester, complete with face paint and bells, singing as he swooped into the Great Hall with a large sack.
Then, before anyone had even properly processed his sudden grand entrance and interruption, he opened the sack and upturned it, spilling baubles over everywhere he flew. Subsequently, there was a series of explosions, and everyone who got hit by the unexpected missiles found themselves covered in green and silver confetti and glitter.
"~AND A SLYTHERIN NEW YEAR!"
Then Peeves launched a strange contraption stuck to a large silver balloon which immediately zipped all over the Great Hall with all the chaotic energy of a deflating balloon. Green and silver paint sprayed everywhere , and even the High Table was not spared.
Prank completed, the Poltergeist grabbed the empty spray gun and somersaulted through the air and out of the Hall, laughing and hooting as he went.
For a moment, everyone just stared in stunned silence. Then the Weasley twins shrieked in outrage. Their wands were out and—they failed to change the colour of the paint and glitter that stained their table and Housemates.
Hadria could vaguely hear them swearing "Next year!" from all the way across the Hall, as their House tables were the furthest apart.
Then the tension was broken and everyone began to laugh and swear. The Slytherins who had, moments before Peeves's interruption, been stifling their mounting resentment, now burst into even louder thunderous cheering and hollering.
Hadria surveyed everyone, watched the Gryffindors try and scrub off the paint and glitter, the Hufflepuffs good-naturedly smear their paint-stained hands onto each other's robes and faces, the Ravenclaws examining the substances that would neither come off or change colour. Her fellow Slytherins were all very busy banging cutlery and goblets and stamping their feet, honestly the rowdiest she had ever seen them being. And then the Professors up at the High Table.
Dumbledore looked exasperated, almost tired. He would probably be furious too, if he had any idea that it was a student who had orchestrated this, more so if it had been a Slytherin student. McGonagall looked like she was utterly done with the school, which Hadria felt was rather funny, because she knew that stubborn Professor would continue to work and teach here as fiercely and passionately as she always had, for a long long time. Flitwick looked delighted, while Sprout and the other Professors seemed good-humoured enough about the whole thing.
Her eyes met Professor Snape's, which startled her for a moment, but she recovered quickly and grinned at him with all the innocence of an eleven-year-old. Snape, stone-faced and unsmiling, stared her down for a good long moment, before she saw him mouth: Five points to Slytherin.
No one noticed the extra emeralds that joined the large pile at the bottom of the Slytherin hourglass.
And Hadria hid her smile behind her goblet.
The Slytherins celebrated the whole night, and the next morning, they received their exam results back.
Hadria did as well as she expected, with near 100% scores for most of her subjects. While her History grades were comparatively unsightly, she did also manage to get bonus points for some subjects, such as Defence. Her friends also did pretty well—no one got anything lower than 70%, even for History, and Hermione got the best grades out of the entire batch of first-years. In fact, she seemed to have done even better than she did in Hadria's previous life, which was probably attributed to the change in her House, and thus, her learning environment, as well as her drive to do even better, with Hadria and Draco as competition.
"I can't believe—This isn't—How—"
"Deep breaths, Draco," said Hadria, patting him idly on the back.
"She beat us! "
Pansy looked up from the magazine—the Quibbler, Hadria noted with some amusement—she was reading and sighed, "Yes, you've repeated that six times already. Hadria, look at this—"
She showed Hadria a full page dedicated to strange (and possibly imaginary) creature sightings.
"—Let's include a column like this in our publications next year. We could request readers to submit anything amusing or gossip-worthy—nothing too private or scandalous of course, then organise them. Like for example, the number of times McGonagall is caught doing something cat-like."
"Or, top five worst places to encounter the school Boggart," Blaise added with mirth in his eyes. "The other day, I heard that there were two students who burst out of a broom closet crying because the school Boggart caught them by surprise!"
The school Boggart was the Boggart that had gained infamy since the events of Halloween. Of course, no one could be sure if it was the same Boggart each time, or if there was more than one Boggart in the school, or even if it was a new Boggart replacing the previous one, assuming that the previous one had been dealt with by a Professor... Though there hadn't been any news of the sort, which might be because this particular Boggart had a habit of changing locations every time it was disturbed, and when confronted, had somehow or other, learnt how to use the opponent's fear as a distraction, before swiftly making an escape. This was, to anyone's knowledge, practically unheard of for a Boggart.
"Hmm," Hadria stared at the moving illustration of some never-before-seen creature. "I wonder if I could introduce another creature to the school."
"Oh yeah, you did say you're going to be travelling with your guardian. Any ideas where? I heard that there's a part-lion part-goat unicorn in China that can—"
"I believe importation of magical creatures of class XXX and higher is illegal without a proper license," Hermione announced as she invited herself into the train compartment. "Besides, even for magical creatures of lower danger classifications, according to Section 3 of the Control of Invasive Magical Species Act—"
"Shhh," Draco interrupted. "No one needs your input, Spoil-Sport Granger."
Hermione, clearly immune to his rudeness, merely huffed and said, " Someone needs to be the sensible one to stop Hadria from smuggling dangerous creatures into the school, instead of encouraging her."
Hadria wisely chose not to comment, never mind the fact that she had been—and was currently still—smuggling a Lethifold everywhere, since many years ago.
"I'm not sure, but I hope we're visiting Greece again," she said instead. And the topic moved to safer waters of what the rest of them were going to do during their summer break.
Hadria did hope to visit Greece again, not only to see how her Greek friends were doing, but she was also curious to find out if a certain Cerberus was settling well, back in its hometown.
Very soon, the train pulled up at King's Cross Station, and they met their parents and guardians at the Platform, where Hadria immediately launched herself at Gellert with a loud squeal that attracted the attention of half the people around them.
"Gerwald! Gerwald, guess what?"
Gellert eyed the girl in his arms with fond exasperation, "Well?"
Hadria grinned up at him and said cheekily, "It's a secret! But maybe I'll let you know tomorrow."
Her guardian sighed. Well, it was good to have her back, hale and hearty.
Gellert Grindelwald often went to bed with a shimmering crystalline cube placed on his bedside table. It easily caught the morning light and would throw splinters of rainbow-tinted light across the entire room, which was always a beautiful sight to wake up to.
So, when Gellert woke up the next day to a lack of colourful light shards on his walls and ceiling—replaced instead by fractured blossoms of red, that honestly looked rather ominous on his white bedroom walls, he immediately sat up in alarm, all drowsiness vanished.
The cube beside his bed, that had always only served a rather decorative purpose, now had an additional crimson red stone that seemed to pulse like a glowing heart in the morning light.
Gellert stared at it for a good long minute, before he took a deep breath and stifled his immediate urge to scream.
Chapter Notes:
1. Hermione is concerned about the cremation mention only because burial is more common esp in the wizarding world, and she's influenced by Hadria's suggestion of a disease i.e. could the Professors be trying to ensure the eradication of something by burning Quirrell's body (which is not incorrect, since he was possessed).
2. Peeve's paint spray gun is a Muggle contraption that Hadria gave to him for this purpose, and he gets to keep a fun new toy after
Right! So, next up will be a short feature/interlude which was originally part of this chapter. It's about the Stone and the Flamels, and the main part of it takes place the first night Hadria returns home, i.e. before Gellert's morning surprise.
Would you prefer to read it straightaway (probably tomorrow), or shall I post it a week from now?
And as always, feel free to ask me or tell me anything in the comments or PM, or if you'd like, you can also message me on tumblr or instagram or even discord. Details are on my profile page.
On that note, I'm thinking, re: my previous idea of taking any requests, because I realise that's a bad idea considering my updating schedule or lack thereof, I've decided to only open up requests specifically for details you wish to read regarding things that have already happened, be it in Danse Macabre or in my other side-fics.
It could be a short feature about something I glossed over, or a certain character's point-of-view about something, etc. So, fire away!
(Though do note that I will probably still pick and choose which ones I'm more interested in writing if there are a few).