CHAPTER 22: REUNION WITH SHADOWS
Harry reclined in his accustomed spot, surveying the timid first years huddled near the main door. The influx of new Slytherins added a sense of chaos as they scrambled to find suitable seats. Daphne, with her customary grace, created a welcoming space next to her, becoming an impromptu guardian for the uncertain newcomers.
As the unfamiliar faces settled in, Draco, in his typical haughty manner, sneered at a trembling first-year boy. However, Daphne swiftly intervened with a few soothing words, quelling Draco's aggression. "Seems like she's got remarkable charisma," Harry observed, his eyes shifting to the next arrival—a self-assured, dirty-blond boy who swaggered over as if he owned the place. Arrogance emanated from his piercing blue eyes, sparking a silent challenge between him and Draco.
"That kid's in for it," Draco muttered, receiving a playful reprimand from Daphne. "Draco! You can't just go hexing poor little children!"
"And don't forget, we were those little children just last year," Theo chimed in, a smug smirk playing on his face as Draco muttered a string of curse words under his breath.
Meanwhile, Pansy shot a disapproving glare at a silver-haired girl who seemed to be harboring the early stages of a crush on Draco. Even Blaise Zabini, positioned next to Theo, kept his head down, wisely avoiding any confrontation with Harry.
The dynamics at the Slytherin table were palpable, a blend of camaraderie, rivalry, and unspoken challenges. The atmosphere crackled with energy as the students settled into their roles within the intricate web of relationships that defined life in the Slytherin house.
The air crackled with tension as Draco and Daphne engaged in a subtle power struggle. Draco, basking in the perceived victory of the earlier confrontation, found himself facing a stern scolding from Daphne, who assumed a motherly demeanor. Millicent, seemingly recognizing the shift in dynamics, strategically claimed a seat at the very end of the line next to Daphne.
"Daphne, you know that the sorting is always important," Draco was chided, prompting a dismissive retort. "What's the point? There were a few years where we had no Slytherins join!"
Daphne crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing with a maternal sternness. "Draco Malfoy, did you just challenge me?" Her voice took on a snarl, revealing a ferocity beneath her usually gentle exterior. Daphne, when provoked, could be as vicious as a cornered serpent.
"Why, yes, I d—" Draco began, ready to escalate the confrontation. The tension in the room heightened as both Draco and Daphne reached for their wands, their eyes locked in a dangerous dance.
"Enough," Harry commanded, his voice cutting through the impending conflict. The two turned, faces contorted in readiness to snap back at him. However, at Harry's firm directive, they halted their movements and reluctantly sat back down. Heads lowered, wands were sheathed, and the brewing storm of hostility dispersed, if only momentarily. The Slytherin table resumed its façade of composure, though the undertow of tension lingered beneath the surface.
The grand doors burst open, revealing a panting Ron and Daemon, who appeared to have sprinted from some distant location. Their faces were flushed, and before anyone could react, Lily Potter descended upon the two boys, pulling them away from the crowd.
"Interesting," Harry mused, noting the disheveled state of the redhead's hair, which, surprisingly, wasn't from a broom ride. The small cuts and scrapes hinted at the use of something uncommon—whatever they had utilized, it was evident they weren't well-versed in handling it.
Harry couldn't help but be intrigued, filing away the mystery for later exploration. "Oh well," he thought, "I'll have plenty of time to unravel that riddle."
Dumbledore, with his characteristic twinkle, addressed the assembly, "We are very sorry for the interruption; please continue with the sorting." Harry rolled his eyes at the headmaster's geniality and turned his attention back to the first years. However, as his gaze swept over them, he stiffened.
A flash—an ephemeral moment, yet Harry was certain he caught sight of something familiar. Black hair, fashioned into short, scruffy pigtails. It was a fleeting glimpse, maybe a hint of dark blue eyes, but the distinct hairstyle struck a chord of recognition deep within him. The mystery lingered, leaving Harry with a sense of unease and a determination to unearth the truth behind that momentary apparition.
"Master… I smell something, something from long ago," Coilis hissed, perplexed. Harry's suspicions were validated; there was indeed someone familiar in the mix.
"Who are you looking at, Harry?" Draco inquired, straining to catch a glimpse of whatever had captured Harry's attention.
"I believe I recognize one of the children," Harry calmly responded, causing every eye at the Slytherin table to fixate on the first years. The sudden scrutiny made the newcomers even more nervous as a quarter of the table turned abruptly, their gazes focused on the unsuspecting group.
"How could you recognize someone? You lived in Romania!" Draco exclaimed, a mix of shock and disbelief coloring his words. Daphne, too, looked surprised at this revelation, and Harry mentally cursed Draco for his lack of tact.
"Forestar, Suzie!" the Sorting Hat called out, breaking the tension that had settled over the Slytherin table. Harry's heart nearly stopped, and Coilis, attuned to the significance of the name, tightened his coils in response. The mention of "Forestar" had unleashed a flood of memories, a connection to a time long past, and Harry's eyes remained fixed on the girl who had just been sorted.
"Sweet Salazar…" Coilis cursed, his gaze fixed on the little girl with scruffy black hair and dark blue eyes. The realization struck him like a thunderbolt, and a sense of foreboding settled over the Slytherin table.
"Fate really does hate Harry," he muttered, acknowledging the twist of destiny that had brought Suzie Forestar into their midst. The echoes of the past resonated through the Great Hall, and Harry couldn't shake the feeling that this unexpected reunion held implications that stretched far beyond the walls of Hogwarts.
Harry couldn't shake the tension that gripped him, and the atmosphere around him seemed to reflect his unease. People were starting to take notice, casting curious glances in his direction.
As Snape led the Slytherins back to the dungeons, the absence of James Potter meant that the usual animosity directed at him had diminished. However, Lily Potter remained a presence, and Harry moved cautiously, his eyes fixed on the enigmatic Suzie Forestar. Her decision to join Slytherin seemed like a choice with consequences, and Harry couldn't help but worry for her.
Suzie had changed since Harry had last seen her. No longer the chubby little girl, she was now shorter than Harry, but her refined clothing suggested a level of wealth. Yet, one question lingered in Harry's mind – where was her brother? The cursed individual who had played a pivotal role in ruining Harry's life – David Forestar. The absence of this infamous figure only deepened the mystery surrounding Suzie's reappearance.
The first-year students gasped in awe as they entered the dungeons. This time, they were placed on the far left, two sectors away from Harry—thankfully granting him some distance. Eagerly, they raced off, leaving the older students to organize themselves.
A seventh-year prefect, the sharp-eyed Alexandria, took charge of the situation. In contrast to the somewhat lax prefect Cethen, she commanded attention. "You've all been here before; your rooms are in the same spot. Go unpack, and return if you want to help the first years get introduced to the school," she ordered, her authoritative tone cutting through the air. With a swift turn, her plaid skirt swooshed up slightly.
Harry moved toward his door, navigating through the crowded corridor. A few seventh-year students passed by, giving him enough space to maneuver. He halted in front of the serpent-adorned door, his hand gently running down the back of Coilis in his Gaboon Viper form. The serpent seemed to twist, yearning for the touch it could not feel. Harry took a moment, savoring the familiar connection, before he turned the handle and pushed open the door to his quarters.
Harry surveyed his quarters; it was almost as if he had never left. A few additions, like a box of Quills and some rolls of parchment, indicated Snape's meticulous care. The bed and wardrobe remained unchanged, like a snapshot frozen in time. On the desk, however, a folded piece of parchment stood, unmistakably a note intended for him.
Closing the door behind him, Harry sent his belongings to their usual places with a wave of his hand, while Coilis slithered towards the trick wardrobe. Whoever left the note had to be a Professor; no student could bypass the wards protecting his quarters.
Unfolding the parchment, Harry's eyes skimmed the words penned in a sharp handwriting imitating a font similar to his own but not quite there.
Mr. Obsidian,
I wish to speak to you about small matters revolving around the new first-year Slytherins. I couldn't help but notice the cold look you kept giving to one, Suzie Forestar. I wish to know the meaning of this immediately.
This paper is charmed to show me the time and date you are available when you write it down. Please reply as soon as you read this.
~Your head of house.
Harry couldn't help but sigh. Snape's scrutiny, even after all these years, remained a constant. Yet, he couldn't deny the intrigue surrounding Suzie Forestar. He quickly retrieved a quill and parchment to reply, setting a date for the meeting before sealing the letter with a flick of his wand. The intricate dance of Slytherin politics had already begun, and Harry was once again a willing participant.
Harry realized the precarious position he was in. Snape had already noticed his apparent disdain for Suzie Forestar, and the last thing Harry wanted was for others, especially Dumbledore, to connect the dots leading back to the orphanage, the Dursleys, and eventually, the Potters. He couldn't afford to have Suzie inadvertently reveal his past.
"Master?" Coilis hissed, sensing Harry's growing agitation.
"Snape has noticed. I need to hide it, keep him off my back, and cover my trail," Harry explained, his mind racing for a solution. So far, nothing seemed to be working in his favor.
Frustration boiled within him, and he lashed out, slicing the left bedpost at the foot. The poster bed groaned and started to waver, threatening to crash down. In a fit of desperation, Harry hastily repaired the damage with a charm, not caring about the mess. He needed a plan, a way to save his own skin.
Then it struck him – the Slytherin way, the art of deception and charisma. Like a snake shedding its skin, he could weave a web of lies, leading anyone who dared to follow down a false trail. But how to do it convincingly, especially with someone as sharp as Snape?
Charisma. He needed Daphne's charisma. The ability to charm and manipulate, to weave intricate webs of deceit without arousing suspicion. Harry paused, contemplating how to channel that charm to create a facade that would divert Snape's attention.
With a determined glint in his eyes, Harry started to rehearse the lies he would need to spin. The intricate dance of deception had begun, and Harry was determined to master every step to save himself from the tangled web of his past.
Harry spun, unclenching the note and placing it on his desk. The door was shut, and his clothes had just been unpacked. As if on cue, a knock echoed through the room.
Swiftly, Harry approached the door, opening it to reveal Daphne on the other side. She jumped back in surprise at the speed with which the door swung open. Something in Harry's demeanor tipped her off that something was amiss.
"Ah, Daphne," Harry nodded, gesturing for her to enter. As she stepped inside, he closed the door behind her, casting a glance around the now-neat room. Daphne couldn't help but be surprised at how quickly he had finished unpacking. She had done it in record time herself, driven by Pansy's eagerness to inspect her belongings.
"How did you unpack so fast?" Daphne exclaimed, her eyes darting around the room. She noted the wardrobe filled with black, green, and silver clothing and observed several snake-themed items. It struck her as odd, considering he had only been sorted into Slytherin the previous year.
"Magic," Harry replied, closing the door behind him. Daphne settled on the top of his bed, and Harry couldn't help but mentally note that he needed to acquire a few chairs for his room. He perched on the edge of his desk, the only suitable surface for conversation around her height.
"May I ask why you feel compelled to come here?" Harry inquired, adopting a tone of maturity that slightly amused Daphne. She giggled, finding something amusing in his demeanor.
"Why do you talk like that, Harry? Draco has tried to speak like that since he was very little; he's actually slightly annoyed that you can and he can't," Daphne chuckled, her cheeks tinged with a blush as she noticed Harry's steady gaze. He, in turn, looked away momentarily, exhaling softly.
"Daphne, you may take this the wrong way, but you have no idea how pleased I am to see you right now," Harry admitted, and Daphne raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow, teasingly asking, "Oh?"
However, Harry's demeanor shifted, and Daphne's smirk faltered as she sensed that something was genuinely amiss. "I need you to… help me in a way," he muttered, unaccustomed to seeking assistance.
Daphne's expression morphed into surprise. The idea that Harry, who often carried himself with an air of self-reliance, was asking for help seemed to catch her off guard. It was a side of him she hadn't anticipated.
WELCOME TO LORDARESARCTURUSBLACK ON P.A.T.R.E.O.N
FOR EARLY ACCESS TO NEW CHAPTERS JOIN US ON P.A.T.R.E.O.N LORDARESARCTURUSBLACK