(Samuel King, Prefect - PoV)

The light, familiar burning sensation on my chest forces me awake.

Brushing a hand against the badge, a whispered acknowledgment cuts off the magic before it escalates to screeching, something my dormmates would not appreciate.

After a past, disagreement, over my early mornings I did help put sound-dampening enchantments on their beds (once they recovered), but only at a low level, as I don't want them sleeping through something important. The badge's alarm would cut right through.

Sighing, I drop my hand back by my side.

Damnit Professor...Why bother sending us away early if you are going to wake us early as well? We could have just finished last night.

...

Groaning this time, I sit up and reach over to the nightstand next to my bed for my planner.

He wouldn't have. Something must have come up.

A glance at the time as I grab the book causes me to frown.

Not early then. I forgot to set my alarm. After everything last night...

Shaking my head and chiding myself for sloppiness, I open up the planner and check for instructions.

...

Rubbing my eyes, I check again. Flip through the empty pages to be certain.

Nothing else.

Just a short note for me to meet him at his office.

Me, specifically. No one else.

Strange...

Snapping the planner shut, I set it aside and begin getting ready.


Exhausted.

The word leaps into my mind the moment I lay eyes on the man.

He looks absolutely exhausted. Something definitely came up last night after we left.

He continues scribbling notes on parchment after I enter, not even looking at me, so I wait quietly.

Scribbling.

The Professor doesn't bother with elaborate calligraphy but his penmanship has always been readily legible. 'If no one can read it you wasted your time writing it down,' he has said.

...

"Samuel," he finally speaks, glancing up at me for just a moment before returning to his notes.

"This year is going to be hell," he declares without fanfare. "The next few days I expect to be especially busy. I won't have time for the usual Prefect debriefing, even. It will have to wait."

I nod silently, waiting for him to continue.

"I need you, specifically and especially, to keep an eye on the first years," he continues to write as he speaks. "I shouldn't need to tell you which first years, I assume?" Finishing his writing he throws his quill down and finally focuses his attention on me.

"I can take a guess, sir." I pause for a moment. "It was an eventful night, then? Please tell me Coeus didn't have to follow through on his threats?"

"Coeus," the Professor begins, "nearly fractured his skull on the door to his dorm trying to bash his own head in before destroying said door for daring to hurt him."

...What?

The professor's frown grows.

"His dormmates eventually abandoned the room after his trunk got into a fight with the Trolley. And won. Meaning he now has two potentially murderous magical artifacts. Both of which threatened me last night."

"Do not enter their dorm without permission," he continues before I can respond. "Do not do so at all unless you have to. The other first-year boys have been moved to the spare boys' dorm."

I nod automatically before registering his wording.

"Their?" I ask.

"Phoebe and Iris are sharing the room with him."

"...In the boys' dorms?" I ask.

"Bulstrode ended up in the hospital wing last night," he responds.

I nod. Not entirely unexpected.

She was glaring at Coeus during dinner whenever she thought the Blacks weren't looking. That said, I am rather surprised she actually worked up the nerve to try anything, especially on the first night.

Then again, Phoebe is a seer. She may not have bothered to wait for Bulstrode to try something.

Being able to consistently and accurately attack her opponents before they attack her? The moment they plan to move against her? Or possibly even before they know their own intentions? And combined with the Black's reputation for viciousness?

I suppress a shudder.

"I see."

"No, you really don't."

I blink.

Looking at the man, really looking at him, I catch more and more signs. Little things, things that easily blend in with his usual persona, but they are there.

Even more than the exhaustion, I have never seen him this worn.

A heavy fist beating on the door disrupts my thoughts.

The Professor glances at the clock.

"Of course...The one time she isn't late," he mutters before returning his attention to me.

"It seems we must cut this short. I suspect most of the girls have similar feelings about sharing a room with Phoebe as the boys do with Coeus. If you wish to know the details, you will have to ask them about last night."

"Now," the Professor continues, ignoring the pounding on the door, "this is very important. Never attempt to separate the twins. Ever."

...Ah.

He nods.

"You understand. Good. Yes, separation is what caused their simultaneous psychotic break. I don't care if McGonagall or Dumbledore himself tries to split them up, do not allow it. Use any means necessary, and inform them that you have a direct order from me."

I can't help but stand straighter after that command. To go directly against Dumbledore if needed...and any means necessary? He knows what a Slytherin will do with an order like that...

Christ and Merlin everything is escalating quickly. At this rate, I am worried we are going to turn the school into a battleground.

Wait, Coeus already did that. For fun.

"Go," he orders. "Tell the others as well."

Nodding, I step away, still trying to process it all.

And planning which first-year girl to talk to.

'Psychotic break,' he said? I really want to know what happened to Bulstrode.


(Dora Tonks Black - PoV)

Ugh.

Everyone always chides me, over and over and over, about being on time.

Constantly. Constantly!

Well, here I am!

*Thump*Thump*Thump*

Here I am. On-time. And the bastard won't even answer the bloody door.

...

Whatever. At least it gives me an excuse to beat on it? Maybe knock it down by "accident?"

Heheheheheh.

The thuds get heavier and heavier as I slowly shift more mass to my arm until it is closer to a battering ram than anything else. Alas, I really need to stop here unless I go all out and drop my look entirely. I will fall over if I keep going.

*THUD*

And damn this door is tough...It has to be enchanted, right? It looks sturdy but not that sturdy. I suppose it's not really a surprise that Snape of all people would bulk up his security. I can't be the only one that has considered a little payback every now and then.

Definitely annoying though.

I draw back for another swing when the door opens and Samuel steps out.

"Dora," he nods at me.

"Sammykins," I nod back.

He raises an eyebrow, glancing at my cocked-back fist.

"Having fun?" he asks.

I nod towards the door.

"Is it broken?" I ask, dropping my arm and shifting back to normal.

He gives the door a once over before looking back at me.

"No?"

"Then no," I reply.

A slow nod.

"Perhaps you should ask Coeus for tips?" he suggests.

"What?" I ask, tilting my head.

What does Coeus have to do with this?

Samuel pauses before replying.

"Ah, never mind. You'll figure it out. Anyhow, the Professor wants to see you and," he looks at his (empty) wrist, "I'm afraid I have places to be. See you around."

I frown as he steps past me, striding down the hallway.

Damnit Coeus, what did you do now?

Turning away, I relax my body and put my hands behind my head before strolling into Snape's office, a confident grin on my face.

"Yo, Prof! You called? Wazzup?" I ask, deciding to add and drop fake accents at random. It's only fair for demanding a meeting this early.

I really wish Hogwarts had some foreign language classes, I would be all over that. Then again they probably wouldn't teach all the good bits.

What's the point in learning a language if you can't even swear in it?

"Miss Black," he replies drily.

My grin actually becomes half genuine, at least for a moment.

"Hey, you got my name right! Most people are still having trouble with that."

And that's totally not annoying at all...No matter what it is, everyone always refuses to accept my name. Before it was all, 'Oh, but your mother yadda yadda.'

Bullshit. Mum named me at birth, sure. But I am me now. I decide who I am.

Now? Now I, some no one? An upstart half-blood at that, dare claim to be a Black?

I mean, I would think the fact that Arcturus Black himself, head of the family, signed the paperwork would make it official (well, official official? Whatever) but no.

"That's because it is not you I want to talk about," he says, killing my grin and my plans.

"I see," I reply tonelessly.

He cannot be serious. There is no way. He may be a cunt but he's not an idiot. He knows me better than that.

Plopping down in front of his desk, I make myself comfortable, lounging in the (not actually all that comfortable) chair.

"I was wondering what I did to get called in by you already," I admit, glancing about the room (and pointedly not looking at him). "I guess that answers that then."

"I need to know everything you can tell me about the twins," he says.

Surprisingly forthright, at least.

I finally look at him.

"No."

Hell no. Fuck no. Melin's infinite-chocolate-flavored-no-refractory-period-magical ballsack no.

Why in the hell does he think I will tell him anything about my family?

"I was not using a turn of phrase, Miss Black. I need to know everything. Tell me this, at least. Do they share a room at home?"

...

Frowning, I stare at the man, considering.

I have their backs, no matter what. I won't rat them out. And I don't like talking about them with him. With someone I am uncertain of. I know he hates Sirius. Has he passed that hate on to them?

...

That said, and as much of an asshole as he is, he can be fair. And while most of the school hates him, the Slytherins tend to love him. The twins...they are Slytherins. He is their Head of House.

He might actually need to know some stuff.

...

I suppose the question is reasonable.

"Yeah," I admit. "It really irritates Mum too. She has a whole separate room ready for Phoebe, has for years. Keeps pushing her to use it but," I shrug, "No dice."

I really don't get why she makes such a fuss about it. They are twins. Is it really surprising they stick together?

Snape nods slowly.

"She needs to stop that. Immediately."

I raise an eyebrow at the demand.

"Oh?"

Despite the casual act, I am rather torn. Having bloody Snape making demands about our home life? Even ones I agree with?

Kind of hard not to curse him right here.

On the other hand...

On the other hand, he is serious. Not ranting, raging, or bitching, but deadly serious.

And I think I like that even less.

"Indulge me in two more, related, questions, and I will explain. What is the furthest apart they have been, and for how long?"

How far apart?

His questioning has a theme to it, but why? What is he ge-

Dorms.

The twins would have had to sleep apart for the first time last night.

"Shit...Shit! What happened?" I demand, sitting up properly.

Snape doesn't say a word, just raising his own eyebrow at me.

Oh, you fucking prick!

Once more I debate cursing him and once more I dismiss the idea. As much as I hate to admit it, I have no idea if I can actually take him.

Glaring at the bastard, I run a hand through my hair, trying to remember his questions.

"Damnit Snape!," I yell. "They have never spent a night apart before! Ever! Never been apart for hours, even. And I don't think they have ever been further away from each other than a room or two."

Snape nods.

"Millicent Bulstrode is in the hospital wing," he tells me.

I blink.

What?

Who?

"One of the other Slytherin first years," he elaborates. "She 'fell down the stairs.'"

Oh.

I can't help but cringe at one of the world's most overused lies.

"It could have happened," I object. "Bloody things get me often enough..."

The sad part is I am not even lying.

I hate stairs.

"She also cut her throat trying to shave."

"...What?"

"She claimed to not know that girls don't grow beards."

...

Ok. Ok, I know that is probably a hard one to make up on the spot but come on!

Shaking my head, I sprout a full, bushy beard just like Hagrid's.

"I can see how she might get confused by that," I argue.

Snape stares at me.

I stare back.

Yes, I am doing this. Don't even give me that look, you brought this on yourself. I can and will make this weirder until you give up.

I can worry about why he thinks the twins are cutting girls' throats later...

"While your defensive of your siblings is...admirable..."

Now I really stare. Who the hell is this and what did he do with Snape? Should I check the closet for the body or would that make me an accessory if I "forget" to report it?

...Should I know that already? I just realized how little I know about the actual law despite all my time training to be an Auror.

"It is both pointless and unnecessary. I already know exactly what happened, Iris told me in detail-"

"Bullshit."

Iris wouldn't turn on the twins either, grease-face. Try again.

He pauses, raising an eyebrow once more.

I resist the urge to flip him off.

And to scratch at the beard.

Honestly? This thing is really uncomfortable but I can't get rid of it now. That would show weakness.

Damnit, they better appreciate this.

"Phoebe told her to," he finally says.

What?

Shaking his head, Snape puts his elbows on the desk and steeples his fingers.

"I told you, Ms. Black, there is no need for your, defensiveness. I am attempting to help."

...

Snape. Helping. Voluntarily.

More than that. Going out of his way to help.

Being a Slytherin must be a trip. Huh. It's only just now sinking in how different Hogwarts must be for them...For the other houses in general, now that I think about it. The Gryffs get kinda shafted with McGonagall. The Ravens have that stupid riddle thing that bites if you punch it (Fist is apparently not the answer. Who knew?).

People's whole lives change because of a single word from a ragged old hat. Jeeze. Almost as big a mindfuck as Snape maybe being sorta helpful.

Snape, who continues to sit perfectly still, eyes locked onto me.

Damn. He's probably not lying. As far as I know, he doesn't outright lie very often and it explains this much better. And if he's telling the truth about Phoebe then she would know if he is legit for the long term. Probably.

Still, it does raise more questions. I know he looks out for "his snakes" (at the expense of everyone else), but to this level? I am certain he has covered up worse incidents in the dorms, so...

"Why?"

"Tell me, Black, what exactly do you think happened last night?"

...

I sigh.

With most people that would be a rhetorical question, one they would answer for you themselves. He is going to make me actually answer.

After a moment's hesitation, I get rid of the beard so I can rub my chin.

Another point of evidence in favor of him being truthful, now that I think about it. Angry Snape is never this patient.

"I don't know obviously. It sounds like the two of them being separated caused them to go on edge. Get worked up. Then I guess, uh, Millicent did something to set off Phoebe and got knocked around. And..."

Frowning, I trail off.

"Something about Coeus and a door? I guess he broke one for some reason." I shrug. "No idea why." A slight pause. "To be honest I often have no idea why Coeus does a lot of things until after he explains." And sometimes even after.

Snape gives a slow nod.

"Interesting. Not entirely inaccurate. Decidedly understated, however. 'On edge', or 'worked up', are certainly not the right term for their state after they were separated."

...

"And what is?"

Does he have to be so bloody dramatic? Intentionally stopping and waiting for me to ask?

"I knew Bellatrix, you know," he says quietly.

I blink at the sudden topic shift.

"As well as most could be said to know her, at least."

Again, he stops speaking. Just stares at me.

...

Ugh, fine.

"What, did you meet her in school or something?" I ask, rolling my eyes.

I sort of get the point, after a Ravenclaw explained it to me once, but it's getting old fast. And seriously? Randomly switching topics out of nowhere and then just sto-

"No. I met her after I joined the Death Eaters."

I freeze up.

"Yes," he says, "I was a Death Eater. I...defected, before the end of the war."

He remains perfectly still as I eye him.

Defected, huh? I suppose there would have been some pretty serious scrutiny for him to get accepted at Hogwarts after that. Still...

"I can't believe the rumors were actually right," I admit, feigning nonchalance with a shrug.

"Some of the rumors, perhaps."

I concede the point, (he is obviously not a vampire no matter what some idiots claim and I am pretty certain he is not a bat animagus. His form is obviously a jackass) but he continues.

"Unlike certain individuals, I have never actually eaten babies."

...

Wait...

My eyes widen and I damn near fall out of the chair as I get what he is implying.

He nods again.

"You have heard about Bellatrix all your life. You know of her. How she is crazy. Insane. Mad. But you don't understand."

Swallowing, I keep my eyes on him.

"She tried to kill us once," I point out. "Attacked the house. Almost brought down the wards."

"Do you really think she was going to simply kill you, if she had gotten through?" he asks, his voice level.

...

"Whatever you are thinking? Whatever you are, imagining? I can assure you, she was worse. So much worse. I could tell you stories, if you desire? Ones that haunt my nightmares."

A small, barely perceptible shake of my head. A similar inclination of his.

"As you wish."

He snaps his fingers and a cup of coffee appears on his desk.

I twitch.

Right now? I don't much care for the thought of anything.

But later?

I need that spell.

I will recruit three-fourths of the seventh-years to ambush him and learn that secret if I have to.

"House-elves," he says, leaning back into his chair with the cup.

I grimace. Must have given the game away.

Also, damn. Not a spell then. I've tried every version of "summon coffee" I could find and so far all I have gotten are a lot of detentions and a handful of explosions and injured bystanders.

Oh, and a cat. I didn't have her for more than a week before she disappeared on me. Turns out that Coffee the Cat has been passed around by confused and desperate students for years. No one has any idea where she originally came from.

"The Death Eaters, that you hate so much?" Snape begins once more. "Even amongst the worst of them, men that reveled in murder and destruction, she held a special place. Not just because of her skill, or power, or for the atrocities she committed, though those had their place. Nor for her connections, name, or status."

...

"What then?" I ask, indulging him once more.

I regret it immediately as he takes a deliberate sip from his cup rather than answer.

Bloody cunt. I wonder, how many detentions would I get for reaching over the desk and knocking that cup out of his hands? Especially if it spilled all over him in the process? And would it be worth it anyway? If not for Iris and the Twins I would lean toward yes.

"Her insanity," he (finally) replies. "Her madness. Her unpredictability. It was so very hard, to know what would set her off. What words, or gestures, would be fine one day, yet would cause her to kill someone, the next. She once flayed a man for nodding at her."

I don't flinch but it's a near thing. Damn.

Snape takes another drink from his cup before continuing.

"Psychotic break," he says.

I blink once again at the non-squiggly thing.

"What?"

"The answer, to your first question," he replies simply.

Merlin-damnit Snape!

Ugh. Right, right...What was it? About the twins...Their...State...

...

Shit. That doesn't sound good at all.

I narrow my eyes at the silent Professor across the desk.

Ok...Why the random spiel about Bellatrix? What does she have to do with anything? The details may be..."interesting", but aren't really relevant. Bitch be cra-

...

"They are nothing like fucking Bellatrix!" I spit out.

"Not yet," he concedes. "But given time and the right circumstances?"

My eyes widen once more as Snape slumps in his seat. His usual expression of 'stern disapproval' becomes haggard weariness as his shoulders slump, his muscles slacken, and every part of his body screams exhaustion.

"I have seen it," he claims. "I have been there. It is all too easy, to fall down those paths. It won't take much, not for them. And if they ever get that nudge?"

He shakes his head and the moment is gone.

Professor Snape stares back at me.

"As you surmised, last night the twins went to separate dorms. Phoebe knew it wouldn't last so made no attempt to prevent it. Apparently, she did not bother looking into what would actually happen during the night. Iris was with her, which helped to mitigate the situation..."

Snape's full explanation of what happened finally helps clarify things.

I still don't necessarily agree with him, but I can at least understand.

Coeus...Phoebe...

Shaking my head, I focus on the man in front of me.

Later. I can dwell on everything later, while smothering the shits. Right now I still need to know.

"Why?" I repeat.

He never did answer my question.

Why is he so interested. Why is he so involved.

Dark eyes stare at me for several moments.

"Do you really need me to spell it out for you? Even now, after laying it out?" he asks condescendingly. "I expected be-"

The top of his desk splinters as I slam my fist down on it.

"Stop. Stop the shit. If you actually want to help just answer the bloody question or fuck off. I am not in the mood."

...

Honestly, I expected him to kick me out then and there. Or to rant and rage at me. Not to sit back and regard me coolly.

"Did you know Dumbledore taught the Dark Lord?" he asks.

I narrow my eyes but he continues without waiting on an answer.

"Dumbledore actually shared Voldemort's history with me. And you know what I thought?"

He leans forward.

"So everything really was all his fault."

His gaze is intense and he is gripping the desk incredibly hard judging by his fingers.

"And I wasn't surprised. Not one bit. After all, he was one of the biggest reasons I joined the Death Eaters. And not just me. So many of the others mentioned him by name..."

Closing his eyes, he retreats back into his chair.

"Much of the current staff taught when I was in school as well. They all failed. Over and over."

He opens his eyes.

"You saw for yourself how Dumbledore treated Iris. You know what would have happened to her, yes? And what did happen to her?"

He nods at my grimace.

"I found out last night. Dumbledore tried to hide it from me."

Real anger breaks through his mask for the first time; his lip curls and his fists clench before he shakes his head.

"Keeping everything else in mind, do you trust Dumbledore and the rest of the staff to handle the twins? Knowing at least some of what he has done, because I assure you, there is far, far more, and how he and most of the others have regularly churned out Death Eaters and the like for their entire careers, do you trust them to keep the twins from ending up like Bellatrix?"

He grimaces.

"Especially when they helped make Bellatrix herself," he mutters before shaking his head and focusing on me.

"That, Miss Black, is why. The world does not need another Bellatrix, much less two. If I do not step in, that is what we will get. Two of them, each potentially more dangerous, and right next to Iris..."

"Iris?" I ask almost out of reflex.

That was...quite a rant.

Death Eaters hate Dumbledore. Everyone knows that. I admit I had never really considered the idea of Dumbledore accidentally making more Death Eaters by making bad decisions...

Snape's gaze is cold and hard once more.

"Iris, is a personal matter," he states bluntly. "I was...close, to her mother."

"So I've heard, so I've heard," I admit. "So where were you then, while she was...?"

I shouldn't have said that. Not when Snape is offering his help and actually cooperating.

Surprisingly, he doesn't lose his cool and answers calmly.

"I made a particularly grievous error," he admits. "I trusted Dumbledore."

...

Oh.

"Now, if we could return to why I asked you here?"

What?

It takes me far longer than it should to remember his original demand.

Ah. Right...Right.

I still don't like it...

"And don't forget to talk to your mother...please."

That was an impressively reluctant please. Like getting Coeus to share his bacon.

"I would rather not have an unpleasant surprise return from the holiday break."

*Snort*

I can just picture Snape carefully opening a present (his only present) and an evil Coeus and Phoebe pop out and start cursing everything.

Ah...

...

I look around the room fruitlessly for a few moments, but it doesn't take long for my attention to return to Snape, whose attention remains fixed on me.

Severus Snape. Head of Slytherin House.

...

"I never really thought about it before now, the difference between houses."

"Slytherin..." I trail off, picking at the splinters on the desk.

"Have you actually had to deal with this sort of shit before?" I ask.

A nod.

"Ravenclaw is famed for attracting the "mad". Slytherin has more than its fair share of the broken."

The word hits like a hammer.

"Indeed, I dare say that most are at the very least damaged, in some way or another.

Damaged? What about Mum?

...Riiiiight.

Gramps?

Snape himself?

...

Shit.

Slytherins really do have issues.

Something that...I don't know if I can fix.

I can help. I will help, damnit!

But...

"What do you need to know?" I reluctantly ask Snape.

I can't turn away more help. Especially from someone who might actually have some idea what they are doing.