"Ah, Severus. Take a seat, take a seat. Would you care for a lemon drop?"
Severus grunted a polite refusal, taking his place in front of the headmaster. The man started inquiring after his classes and his plans for the end-of-year exams. The potions master ground his teeth.
"You know I do not care for pointless small talk, Albus. Why have you summoned me?"
Albus only offered him a genial smile before folding his hands together on the table.
"Patience is a virtue for those who teach, old friend." Severus bristled. "You are not sleeping well," observed the man. "I thought that the end of this year's affair with the basilisk would allow you a few more hours of rest."
Severus sneered.
"I've had to contend with Lucius' whining about the loss of his slave and his place on the Board of Governors, as well as his increasing complaints about the rumours about his House going around the school. Speaking of this, has the replacement already been decided?"
Lucius had been forced to use ungodly amounts of money to convince a majority vote to depose the headmaster after Gemma Fawley's petrification. He had known he would be unable to sway Augusta Longbottom and Griselda Marchbanks' camp, but the substantial amount of traditionalists could be convinced with the right bribe. They had no love lost for Albus, after all.
It was somewhat ironic that within Hogwarts' administration, the progressives were the most resistant to any type of change while the Greengrass camp advocated for the refurbishing of everything and anything. The Wizengamot sessions tended to go the opposite way, after all.
"There are several candidates being currently considered. We will put it to vote at the end of May."
"Who are those candidates?"
"Tiberius put forward two names: Alma Sinclair and Bertram Nott."
Severus raised an eyebrow. He knew the Greengrass Alliance had accepted the former Purist with open arms, but he didn't expect them to trust him with such a position so early. He also knew that Tiberius Ogden had no love lost for Dark wixen; it was painfully obvious that the suggestion hadn't come from him.
"The Purists will not accept it. Lord Parkinson especially. And the progressives will be wary of him."
Albus hummed.
"I believe they are aware of that. They are simply making a statement of trust. If by chance he ends up voted in, maybe I will have the opportunity to ask him about his reasoning."
Severus contained a grimace. He wasn't touching that with a ten-foot pole. As long as Bertram Nott's reasons for deserting were obscure to him, the Dark Lord could not pry them out of his mind. He always had an unhealthy obsession with his old schoolmates.
Of the original Knights of Walpurgis, only two remained beyond the Lord of House Nott. Scylla Carrow and Anton Avery knew better than to stray from the path their master had laid out for them. Scylla was currently on the continent, leading her children Amycus and Alecto in their search of the Dark Lord and designing ways to bring him back while she left her nephew in charge of maintaining their House's standing. Severus had no idea what the Avery elder was doing in the meantime, but he had a feeling he didn't want to know. That man was madder than a bag of cats, and considering the general mental state among Death Eaters, that was saying something.
"Who else?" he asked, stirring his thoughts and the conversation back to the candidacy to the Board of Governors.
"Ulrich Fawley. The suggestion was made by Esmaeel Shafiq. I'm surprised someone convinced Ulrich of such a thing, but the man has a child in his care now, I suppose it changed his perspective. Amos Diggory and Ernie Macmillan's mother —Mathilda, I believe her name was— were submitted by Lady Marchbanks. Lord Parkinson pushed forward a Yaxley and a Wilkes. I believe you know which ones."
Severus hummed. He was a little surprised by Amos Diggory's nomination, it wasn't often that a non-Noble was invited to sit at the table. The nepotism around these parts was truly astounding.
"You went to school with mister Potter's guardian?"
"Indeed. He and Garrick are my age, after all. We never quite bonded, I'm afraid. Are you interested in mister Potter's wellbeing again? Considering the situation with the quidditch team at the beginning of the year, I thought you had decided to finally see some of his father in him. Hagrid also told me that the boy learnt of your previous… entanglements."
The potion master shot his employer an ugly look. Albus didn't have the decency to look contrite at his unfortunate word choice.
"You asked me to behave like a Death Eater in your school, not like a professor. Do not act surprised at the undesirable outcome."
Albus frowned.
"That is not my intention. You did as I asked, Severus, and I commend you for that. I was simply asking for your thoughts on the matter. Last year—"
"Last year there was no proof of the Dark Lord's imminent return," he snapped. "I will admit I… relaxed my guard. It was short-sighted of me to grant him the privilege I gave him. But dark forces are stirring and you and I both know my position will be invaluable in this war. I cannot be found to show favouritism to Lily's child."
Sentimentality should not, must not hinder him. Teaching the boy how to heal curses he wouldn't find in the Hogwarts infirmary under the guise of detentions was one thing, publicly endorsing him as he had done by offering him the seeker position on a silver plate was another. Severus had a role to play, a role he owed to Lily as he was responsible for her and her husband's current states, the deaths of her friends and the target on her godson's back.
Harry Potter had no place in that role, no matter how much he wished to give back to the boy he had taken so much from.
The boy would be fine, he told himself. He had friends, and a family, and would soon have more of it —though the thought of that man made him want to gag— as well as a perfectly adequate mentor in Poppy Pomphrey.
Albus hummed, his eyes twinkling. Severus sharpened his focus, his Occlumency shields tightening around his mind.
He knew the man wouldn't skim his mind so brazenly, not for something so minor. But it was good practice and a reminder of who exactly was sitting in front of him.
Tobias Snape had been Severus' first master, so to speak. Lord Voldemort was definitely the second, one he had chosen willingly and whom he would regret following until the end of his days.
Albus Dumbledore was the third shackle at his feet. The weight of that burden was more familiar to him than any form of kindness.
He missed Lily more fiercely every day.
Terence pressed a kiss on his girlfriend's brow before straightening up. He ignored his friends' sympathetic smiles as they left the infirmary.
One more month, he told himself.
"Any news from the Carrows?" asked Adrian as they walked back to their dorm.
Harry was playing quidditch with Diggory and his friends were wandering around moping somewhere. The firsties had a big exam and were at the library with students from other Houses —they had followed the second years' example and mingled, unlike the old sixth years who'd never really cared to step outside of their tight-knit group. They would have the hidden room to themselves for the afternoon, which was really good to decompress.
"Mhm. I gave them the enchanted bag this morning while you were in Arithmancy. They finally told their brother of their plan, the kid is getting ready to leave."
At Adrian's suggestion, the twins had secured the cooperation of their house elf in exchange for freeing him from the binding demanding his obedience. It was the first time Terence had witnessed house elf double-speak, and it had been horrifying to hear the creature insist on how much he loved to serve. As a Shacklebolt in spirit if not in name, the very concept of a happy slave who willingly punished himself made his skin crawl. Harry's suggestion to simply do away with House Burke to get rid of the heinous spell seemed more attractive every day.
The house elf named Clovis could not apparate Achilles Carrow to the goblin bank as space distortion magic sometimes had adverse effects on squibs, unlike the Floo network whose powder served as a binding agent to make the travel more stable. It was also the reason why the bag had to be adapted extensively; it didn't just need to evade detection magic and give Achilles the space and air he required to stay inside of it for a few hours, it also needed to withstand the travel without the Network registering his presence and affecting him.
Instead, Clovis would use a potion made by Safaa to mimic Achilles' voice and presence while the twins smuggled their brother out of the House. Terence's friend had had a lot of fun altering the necessary potion to suit the biology of an elf. She joked about opening a line for other magical beings once she opened her magical cosmetics business after her mastery.
"There's nothing to do but wait. Did your parents get back to you on the matter of schools he could be sent to?" asked Adrian.
"It depends if he agrees on us fostering him," said Terence. They reached the hidden passage leading to their dorm as he finished talking.
Aspen snorted.
"He will. He doesn't have any other choice."
Terence's father had been really emotional once he'd heard of the choice Gemma had made to help. If he hadn't approved of his girlfriend before —and he did, both of his parents loved Gemma and were already saving up for the ring he planned to buy her despite his protests that he wanted to finance it himself—, he certainly loved her now.
"That's true," huffed Safaa as they climbed the stairs. "He's never been out of his home, he doesn't know anyone and his sisters won't be able to contact him until their parents stop looking —which might be years from now. Outside of trusting the people who saved him, he can do nothing."
"You know, he might have company soon," said Terence grimly.
His friends' heads whipped around to stare at him.
"What do you mean?"
"Ginny Weasley's parents had her sent to St Mungo's after the whole ordeal. I heard from Harry though, they're not sure she'll be coming back next year."
"What happened to her?"
"The cursed diary that possessed her belonged to a Dark Wizard. She has a Light core."
"It was corrupted," realised Aspen, closing his eyes. "She won't be able to do magic with a dual-core. Merlin."
"It's not certain yet. She might end up Light-Grey if they manage to merge the Dark parts the asshole left behind. The healers are still trying, but they don't have high hopes. It's been bothering the kid a lot," sighed Terence. "Especially since he's friends with the Weasley twins. The family's gutted."
"I can imagine. Poor girl."
"Wait, is that why Percy Weasley sent McCarthy to the infirmary?" exclaimed Adrian.
Terence blinked at him. "When did that happen?"
"This morning. The whole school's been talking about it. McCarthy said some shit about how she was an idiotic bint to pick up a diary that talked back. Weasley blasted him into a wall and told him that his sister was a grooming victim and he'd duel him to death if he insulted her again."
Safaa made a sound of disgust as she flopped down on her bed. "He deserves it. I didn't expect that of Weasley though. Good of him."
"Yeah, he's always been such a hardass so I was surprised too."
Terence grimaced at Adrian's remark. He dealt with Percy a lot as a prefect in the same year and he could definitely attest to that. The man was a stickler for rules and a pedant. He was smart though, right behind Penelope Clearwater in the class rankings. Terence and his friends surpassed them in a few individual subjects respectively, but not in overall academic excellence. The two of them were just consistently good, while the group of Slytherins was the type to focus only on their own interests. For Terence, that was History of Magic and Defence.
"I suppose finding out his little sister was possessed and nobody noticed is as good a wake-up call as any."
Aspen's detached comment had the prefect's grimace deepening. He bent down and opened up his trunk, searching inside of it.
"Yeah. Don't mention it in front of Harry, though. As I said, he's really torn up about it. He's been researching core corruption in some advanced healing books since he found out."
"You don't think he'll try to heal her?"
"Eh," shrugged Adrian. "He's Gemma's cousin and just as stubborn as she is. He might be crazy enough to succeed."
Terence smirked. He pulled out a bottle of Firewhiskey and closed the lid of his trunk.
"Let's drink to that, shall we?"
"What do you like about that kid?" Soheil asked curiously, glancing at Harry's silhouette as the boy walked back to the castle, his broom in hand. "He's a bit more… quiet than the people we usually hang out with."
Cedric looked up, his attention taken away from the meticulous checking of the protective gear in his quidditch bag he had been undertaking. The mock games were good practice before Hufflepuff's match against Slytherin, which would happen right before the Spring holidays. He still had a week to prepare. Their team had been running drills in the early morning that had Tamsin complaining for hours, but facing off against a seeker like Harry was more of a workout than anything he'd managed on his own. Their position on the team was a lonely one, and outside of dodge training, there was little he could practice with the others that wasn't mandatory warm-ups.
Sometimes he wished there was someone else to take over for him as a seeker. He liked the cooperation of chasers more, but there was no replacement to take over for him.
"He's kind. It's rare for a Slytherin. Some of them are nice and polite, but kind? Not really."
That was something he'd learnt from his father. The den of snakes was a good place for people who strived in adversity; it encouraged a kind of ruthlessness he knew himself to be incapable of.
"He's a good influence on his friends too. They're the least antagonistic group of snakes I've ever seen."
While Harry was ambitious —everyone knew he'd asked to start apprenticing with Madam Pomphrey as soon as he got to Hogwarts— and exhibited other common Slytherin traits, he definitely lacked the edge most of his housemates wielded like blades in their smirks and their sneers. His gaze was sharp though, and Cedric had seen it flash a poisonous green a few times when something displeased him. He was kind, but he wasn't soft.
Cedric's best friend hadn't had the chance to talk to him during the summer, which made him understandably confused when Harry had approached him for the first time at the beginning of the year. Soheil usually skived off social events if he could avoid it, allowing his older sister —Maryam Shafiq, the heiress to his House— and his cousin Safaa to take on the task of being sociable. Cedric tried not to be annoyed at it; it had taken a lot of work for his own family to be invited to these gatherings. He understood that they must seem tedious to those forced to participate, though.
Tamsin nodded in agreement from where she was jotting down Pucey's advice on chaser drills. Cedric really didn't want to know what was going on in Slytherin for a former team member to sink to advising a rival team before a match against his own House. Though to be fair, it seemed like Pucey was just like that.
"They aren't being kind to him right now though," observed Soheil.
Cedric grimaced. Everyone had seen the way Harry had been isolated from his usual friends in the past few days. Judging by the little he knew about Slytherin politics, it didn't bode well for him. The Hufflepuff seeker thought there was more to it than met the eye, though; it seemed too dramatic a separation to him for such close friends. The second years weren't that cunning yet.
"I don't know what's going on," he admitted. "But I told him to ask if he needed help." He chuckled a little at the reminder. "He made a face like I insulted his pet owl."
Harry's owl Hedwig had disturbed one of their games once, flying around him to say hello while he had his eye on the snitch and distracting him enough for Cedric to take advantage of it. The Weasley twins made the mistake of cracking a joke at her expense about mother hens; they spent the next hour pursued by the sound of increasingly louder clucking chickens. They kept the charm up since they thought it was funny, but professor McGonagall put an end to the joke at dinner.
Cedric's friends grinned, probably remembering the scene.
"I think he'll be alright."
"Speaking of our underclassmen, how's Justin been?" asked Soheil to Tamsin.
Her mother was the younger sister of Zach Smith's dad, which meant she had been entrusted with looking after her cousin's year group. They had had a rough go of it during the boy's petrification, which had made Cedric redouble his efforts in the fundraiser. If he had to be made popular for nothing more than his looks and his place on the quidditch team, it might as well be of use, he'd reasoned at the time. He wished someone cared about his other accomplishments too, though.
"He's done a good job catching up but he's nervous in the corridors. He's a spoiled kid and Hogwarts was advertised to him as the safest place in the country besides Gringotts. He's feeling a little disillusioned."
"Gringotts was broken into as well last year, remember?" asked Soheil. "I don't know what's been going on the last two years, but it's pretty weird."
"Let's not get too superstitious," chuckled Cedric, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. "I'm sure it's just a coincidence."
"Well, we'll know next year, won't we?" said Tamsin. "Once is happenstance, twice is a coincidence and a third time…"
They exchanged mischievous looks. James Bond was something of a favourite of theirs, introduced by Tamsin's muggle cousin.
"A third time is enemy action."
Malfoy was staring.
Blaise resisted the urge to glance back. He skimmed the letter his uncle had sent him another time instead. He took his time with it, though the news from Mezzogiorno wasn't that exciting. Someone tried to poison Dino, meh. That happened at least once a month. One day the enemies of their family would realise they had created a charm to detect such things. Until then, they had to deal with the unimaginative attempts to put another heir on the throne. For some reason, they seemed to think Antea would be easier to manipulate. Considering the fact that his cousin had to be talked down from setting on fire the last person who tried to do so, that was debatable. Of Aristeo's four children, only Lazzaro had inherited his father's temperance. Between Constantino's ruthlessness and his no-nonsense approach to court politics, Antea's pyromania and Crescenzia's cold-heartedness towards anyone who wasn't family, the Principe surely had his hands full.
Blaise couldn't wait to introduce them all to Harry.
Speaking of him, the Italian prince missed his best friend fiercely.
Walking down the corridors of Hogwarts was not the same. He missed Harry's gushing about goblin culture, the quiet rustle of his healing books, his terrible penmanship, the snark that came out at the worst moments. Even the smell of the abomination that was treacle tart felt nostalgic to him at that moment.
He wasn't the only one. He'd caught Theo turning to tell someone who wasn't there about his discovery of the specifics of Hungarian marriage rituals and his subsequent deep dive into soul pledges around the world. Blaise and Tracey were currently not talking to each other because Daphne and Theo hadn't cared to check if they cheated during their regular game of chess and they'd spent two hours accusing each other of rigging the set they'd used for the game. The Greengrass heiress had resorted to aggressively sharpening her quill and amplifying the sound to get them to stop.
It was all kinds of terrible.
They could tell Harry missed them too. He kept busy with his Gryffindor friends and the sixth year students, but the former weren't always there and the latter did not share classes with him. To Malfoy's delight, he looked quietly miserable during most of the time he spent alone.
At least they could talk in the dorms, but Harry's self-inflicted isolation and the still pending conversation about their plans to put him on the Argentum throne made the atmosphere tenser than it should. They hadn't had the opportunity to meet without their allies present yet, which was highly frustrating. Blaise could tell Daphne was getting impatient; it was only her sense of propriety that kept her from either kicking them all out of the dorm or raising a privacy ward and having the conversation with them in the room.
Right now, Harry was eating at the Ravenclaw table with Luna Lovegood, Su-a Li and Padma Patil. The two girls of their year didn't seem to know what to make of the firstie but listened to her amiably enough, despite how weirded out she made them feel. It was obvious from there that Harry found it amusing. He'd even told Theo that the boy would probably enjoy conversing with Lovegood. Despite her whimsical way of expressing herself, she had a solid grasp of magical theory and thrived when people questioned her unorthodox perspective.
Blaise wasn't sure what good would come out of that friendship outside of a subscription to the half-satirical half-mad magazine that was the Quibbler but he'd learnt that Harry cared very little about politics when making a friendship. He'd benefitted from it too, so he wouldn't judge.
The Italian prince chewed pensively, his gaze lost a few paces away from the Ravenclaw table.
Now would be a good time to bait Malfoy, he decided, putting down his fork and standing up. He gestured at his friends to continue eating, claiming he would go for a stroll. He didn't make it far.
Sure enough, the Malfoy heir and his court found him sitting in an alcove on the first floor, watching the Whomping Willow sway from a low window.
Blaise angled his face so as not to betray the triumph in his eyes.
It was time for him to do what he did best.
Sally-Anne wasn't too sure about this.
Zabini's fight with Potter was convenient to the point it was suspicious. Their faction had won but Draco's camp —her camp, she corrected herself, she was among the winners— had lost grip of one of the most important things to maintain: their reputation. The smear campaign run by their rival court had been abominably effective, made even more so by the fact that every single rumour had at minimum a sliver of truth to back it up.
They didn't care to be seen as cruel and prejudiced. Might made right after all, and who was mightier than the purest of purebloods? With Draco to lead them, there was no way they could be in the wrong. But they understood that there was a fine line they were meant to mind, vestigial from the last war and the Dark Lord's defeat. The Purist agenda was still welcome within Wizarding Society, but it needed new lingo to distance itself from what public opinion considered to be bad taste.
The muggle threat was no longer about blood and magic theft but about erased culture and lost practices, magical creatures were not filthy but lacked control, and purebloods were not superior but an example to follow.
Sally-Anne's family knew words. They specialised in diplomacy. While the purity of their blood could only be traced back to four generations and they had neither the legacy of a Noble Title nor a family grimoire to boast of, they had the ear of powerful people in the Daily Prophet's —very unofficial— censorship and propaganda office as well as the Department of International Magical Co-Operation.
Sally-Anne had been taught the magic of appearing weaker to come out stronger and to pay attention to what is being done over what is being said while drawing attention to the words only. And Blaise Zabini certainly talked pretty.
He wove a tale of a Harry Potter who, while politically more compatible with him than Draco, lacked the necessary drive to shape Slytherin into something worthwhile and deceived his allies into thinking he was someone to follow only to let them down in the end. It certainly sounded true enough. Zabini didn't push it. He didn't pretend he suddenly approved of Draco's plans for their House. Instead, he hinted that he had wanted to be the one to lead and face off against their court but that Potter's deeper connexions in Britain —mostly due to his Fawley fostering— had gotten him to believe he would be better suited as a second.
But he talked too well and that made her wary. Professor Lockhart had been eloquent and handsome too before he turned out to be a fraud who was uncovered by Longbottom of all people.
She tried to catch Pansy's gaze but her best friend seemed to be vibrating with glee at the idea of swaying Potter's allies into neutrality at the very least. Sally-Anne directed a pleading look to Millie after that, hoping for some support. She was not disappointed. Millicent had this narrow-eyed look that made her look sleepy but indicated she could discern a trick but wasn't sure what it was.
"What do you want to do now?" she asked in her usual blunt manner.
Zabini looked her up and down before dismissing her with a huff.
"Quiet, Bulstrode. I don't talk to underlings."
He turned fully to Draco then. Sally-Anne bristled and took a step back, allowing Vince and Greg to shield her. It was a good move of Zabini; the Malfoy heir liked being acknowledged and it would ensure that any objection coming from anyone other than Draco would be seen as simple petty jealousy.
"I'm not going to follow you, Malfoy."
"I know you won't." It looked like it pained him to say it, but Sally-Anne had to admit it was unlikely from the start. Zabini was a foreign prince, whose uncle was considered a Dark Lord in some parts of the world. Principe Aristeo Zabini the third wasn't qualified for such a title by British standards and his sister tended to be more well-known, but he was certainly fearsome to those who had a good grasp of international politics. Sally-Anne remembered what her father had told her about what the man had done to the Austrian ambassador who dared slip a love potion into one of his daughter's drinks. "We can simply negotiate neutrality. Do you represent Greengrass and Nott too?"
Sally-Anne tried not to be offended on Davies' behalf. The girl was a half-blood from an insignificant clan which colluded with creatures, they were nothing alike. But they were both commoners and in the eyes of these nobles, that made them equally insignificant.
"I'll talk to them," said Zabini, his expression neutral.
"You do that," approved Draco with a faux nonchalant air, "and you'll have my word that you can return to your assigned dorms without fear of reprisal. And if you feel up to some revenge for Potter's deception… there will be more benefits."
Zabini's golden gaze seemed to glow for an instant, his cat-like gaze taking on a predatory glint. Sally-Anne had to restrain a shudder. "Oh?" he murmured, his voice like velvet.
"You could start by telling us where you guys have been staying these past few months," purred Pansy, blushing a little.
Zabini only looked amused at her seductive look. Sally-Anne cringed. Pansy was still too young to attempt something like this, especially on a cambion's descendant. The Italian prince caught the tightening of her mouth and smirked.
"I'll think about it." He paused. "I'm curious to see what kinds of benefits you have to propose."
Harry paused on the threshold, closing the door of their dorm with a careful hand. The restless atmosphere he could find among his best friends was unsettling.
They were alone for once. Maybe they would finally manage to have that discussion.
"Harry!" exclaimed Tracey, bouncing on her feet to greet him. "Guess what?"
She jumped a little in excitement. Harry caught Daphne and Theo's twin smirks and Blaise's satisfied expression. He looked like the cat who caught the canary. Or rather, a nundu who finally embedded its claws in the wings of a dragonet.
"Good news?" he asked with a grin.
"Great news," corrected Blaise. "Malfoy wants me to lead him to where we've been staying. He promised me many things," he added mischievously.
"That's great! We'll have to plan this right. We'll need…" He trailed off and sat down in front of Theo.
He drew out parchment and a quill from his bag to start jotting out details they would need to sort out. Before he pulled out his inkpot, however, he glanced at the expectant gazes of his friends. He tugged lightly at the caduceus dangling from his ear in a nervous gesture and smiled at them sheepishly.
"But first, I believe it's time for a discussion long overdue, no?"