"No way. Absolutely not."
"You can't refuse," hissed Aspen. Thankfully, Safaa hadn't spoken loud enough to be heard by anyone outside of their own group. "You'll beat him up for it later. Now go get your crown."
"I suck at duelling," she hissed back. "And I don't want to be skewered by his mother."
"You should have thought of that before you started dating him in secret," grumbled Adrian. "Now go get 'em. Dinner will be soon."
"I hate you all."
Harry contained a snicker as his cousin's best friend walked up to her ex and murmured something in his ear. The blond giant paled before closing his eyes in resignation. After a second, he opened them again and conjured a crown of damask roses for her to wear.
"Isn't the Spinea Regina supposed to be a significant other?" asked a fourth-year.
"Are you dumb? He's announcing their relationship!"
"He's gonna be killed," murmured Terence.
"What a mad lad," added Adrian, looking delighted.
Aspen hummed in agreement. "As much as I dislike him for what he put us through, I did understand his viewpoint. I have no idea why he's doing this. He graduates in two months. Is he planning on going home to get disowned?"
"Or worse," said Daphne grimly.
Wixen might reach the age of majority before muggles, but it didn't free them from their parents. Especially in the cases of scions of Houses recognised by the Ministry. Heir titles often acted as shackles on children's feet, tying them to ideals of family honour and duty in exchange for the inherited wealth they benefited from.
In Rowle's case, it might as well be a noose around his neck.
"What did he think was gonna happen anyway? Safaa hates him more for Terence's collapsed lungs than for stealing the throne."
"Do you think he believes we'll do the work for him? He's essentially allying himself with us."
Adrian shook his head. "The Vow was worded in a way that makes it impossible for him to shirk his responsibilities. He's just cutting ties with the Purist faction."
"And announcing he's fine with getting disowned." Or cursed went unsaid.
"Maybe he is," suggested Tracey with a roll of her eyes. "You guys seem to forget that not being a Noble is not the end of the world."
"It's not, sure, but it's all he knows. And it means he'll be fending for himself right before graduation. I don't think he's made any preparation."
"He has," said Harry with a certainty that surprised him.
He thought about the hidden money he'd kept stashed behind a hole in the cupboard's tapestry. Enough for a few meals and a bus ticket to London, painstakingly collected over the years in case he had to run away.
(He thought about the way he'd made the same plans after arriving at Ulrich's home. He'd been so relieved to have the vaults inherited from his parents to rely on if anything happened.
It took their first Yule together for Harry to lower his guard.
He hadn't managed to bring himself to discuss it with Healer Merrythought yet, but he remembered.)
If Rowle's family was anything like the Dursleys, he would have planned for an emergency.
Abused children stayed because the familiarity of the pain they suffered was less daunting than the unknown. Better the devil you knew, after all. But it didn't make them less conscious of how easily things could change, how quickly peace could be broken.
An awkward silence fell for a few moments. Harry rarely talked about his life before his fostering. It was easy for his friends to forget he knew what Rowle was going through a bit better than they did. He watched them exchange glances before nodding at him, trusting his word on the matter.
Blaise changed the subject. "That means Safaa will inherit the position when he's gone."
Terence grimaced. "That's going to be a disaster. She won't be able to hold onto it."
"I could duel her for it," suggested Adrian. "I'm the best at Defence after you. And I'm probably better than Flint, right?"
Harry took a step back from the discussion, letting their upperclassmen lead the planning. Blaise would tell him if he missed any important decision. He reached Theo who was standing a few steps away from the group. He looked paler than usual and had his wand in a white-knuckled grip. The exhaustion from casting his family spell was finally catching up to him.
"You good?" he murmured.
Theo inhaled deeply. "Give me a minute."
The Potter heir nodded and poised himself to wait for his friend to recollect himself. He exchanged a look with Blaise who had noticed him moving away. His best friend blinked slowly and shifted, hiding them from the sight of the purists' faction. They were all huddled around Malfoy's group. Harry guessed they were dying to know what had gone on.
When Theo's shoulders relaxed in increments, Harry pressed closer to him.
"The firsties should have already relocated everyone's luggage. We can go to our dorm if you want."
They would be repurposing the Starlight room – which he had started calling their secret dorm after finding an old journal referring it as such hidden under a bed – into a private space for their group but they were glad to no longer be sleeping there. It wasn't meant for so many people.
His friend hesitated before humming in assent. "Warn the others? I'll wait here."
"Sure."
She woke with stiff limbs and a bad taste in her mouth. It took her a moment to regain her bearings and another to remember why she was in a bed at the infirmary.
"How long has it been?" Gemma croaked, rubbing the sleep away from her eyes.
"Gemma!"
Air was punched out of her lungs as she was tackled from both sides of her temporary bed. She yelped as a bony elbow dug into her skin.
"Safaa! Be careful with me, won't you? I just woke up! And Harry, why are you crying? Has it been that long?"
Her little cousin didn't answer, too preoccupied with burying his silent tears into her neck. Her best friend and boyfriend had a tight grip on each of her hands while Adrian and Aspen looked, visibly eager to join in on the group hug but all too aware of the logistics problem that came with the lack of space. Gemma exchanged a long-suffering look with Madam Pomphrey, although her pleased grin at being showered with so much love betrayed her true emotions as surely as the matron's fond smile.
"You've been asleep for three months now, Miss Fawley. How are you feeling?" she asked with a pointed drawl, drawing a guilty sigh from Harry who realised he'd forgone his healer manners.
"A bit sore but alright." She paused. "Famished as well. I don't suppose it's time for lunch?"
"I'll call an elf in a minute, let me just check you over first."
Harry turned pleading eyes towards her. "Can I do it?"
"Tell me what you intend to do and I'll see if I approve of it."
Gemma lost interest in the conversation, more interested in offering a reassuring squeeze to her boyfriend's hand. Terence was gazing at her with a fragile look like he was afraid she would disappear if he blinked too long.
As she had lost consciousness a few hours after being petrified, she did not truly feel the time pass between now and the attack. She still remembered the helplessness of falling to the ground, seeing Harry cry and fall apart in response to it and having to witness her friends' anguish over her predicament. If that was rough for her, Gemma could hardly imagine what it must have felt like on the other side.
She was just glad it had been her and not Terence. She knew better than to say so out loud. Instead, she raised their intertwined hands and pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles before asking with as bright a smile as she could muster.
"So, what did I miss?"
The days after the takeover were tense. The second and sixth years didn't seem to notice, lost in the bliss of their former queen's presence, although Safaa Shafiq and Adrian Pucey were looking a little strained around the eyes, being the only ones to formally participate in Spencer Rowle's court rulings.
Unlike what Slytherin had expected, the turncoat rex hadn't just gifted his court to his queen. Instead, he'd chosen the least hostile friend Shafiq had, then appointed Lauren Macmillan – who was apparently Agatha Langley's former lieutenant – along with Miles Bletchley and Graham Montague – who were the least politically-inclined people in the entire House.
It was obvious to everyone that he was trying to set a neutral ground to finish the year without bloodshed. From the way he waited every morning with bated breath for a letter from home to arrive, the whole of Slytherin could tell he had other things to worry about.
So far, no one seemed to have dared write home about it, too aware that antagonising the current Argentum rex could very well have him duel them for the offence now that he seemed to have found his spine. Nobody wanted to go through that. They all remembered what he and Higgs did to each other.
That wouldn't last, though. Rowle would have some respite since he was staying at school for the holidays but he would need to go home after passing his NEWTs.
But it was his decision and he clearly seemed to think it was worth it, judging from his puppy-like expression every time his Regina looked at him. Shafiq was a cold girlfriend though, which the first-year guessed made sense. She wouldn't happy with her boyfriend either if he almost killed one of her best friends and took the crown of another. Still, if she'd agreed to be his queen their relationship couldn't be that tense, right?
Mafalda was just happy the whole ordeal was over and done with. She'd missed sharing a room with Flora and Hestia. The twins were a lot more pleasant when they weren't in public. Besides, they reminded her a lot of her favourite cousins. Fred and George sometimes spoke in one voice when they were too tired to keep up the pretence of simply being regular twins. (As if they could ever be regular anything, these crazy idiots). They never did it around their parents though.
The Carrow girls seemed happy to see her too. They didn't particularly like her other friends, who were usually too creeped out to carry out a conversation with them but they made an exception this time to gossip about the recent turnover and the incoming Quidditch match. Mafalda wanted to root for Slytherin even if she disliked most of the team members.
"I get where you're coming from. Besides, I wouldn't be caught dead cheering for Hufflepuff," said Lily in her usual caustic manner.
Lixian snorted. "Rude. The badgers are so nice."
"Yes. It gives me hives."
"Well, I'll be rooting for Diggory," said Julia. "Not because I care about Quidditch. Just because he's so dreamy."
They all snickered. Their friend's infatuation for the Hufflepuff seeker was well-known after all.
"And it feels like betraying Harry. I can't believe we won't be able to see him play for our House until our third year."
Mafalda sighed. "And even then, Malfoy might be named captain and refuse to let him back in. We all know Professor Snape has a soft spot for him."
The Carrow twins shook their heads. "He doesn't. He and Lord Malfoy trade favours at social functions. We heard him asking for something in exchange for favouring his son and not failing his vassals."
They all leaned forward, curious.
"What did he ask?"
Flora and Hestia shrugged. "Rare potion ingredients maybe."
Mafalda sniffed.
"He should have asked for his backing to claim the Prince Lordship. The seat's been empty since Aldrich Prince's death, it's unsightly."
"The Black seat too," murmured the twins, looking pensive. "And no Steward has been appointed."
"It won't be for long though. Hasn't Malfoy been bragging about being the Heir?" wondered Lily.
The Prewett girl quirked her lips at the way Lixian was following the conversation, her head swishing back and forth to look at them speak. As her mother had only taken up her position as the British Ambassador of the Jiangsu province recently, she was often catching up on the politics and social life of the recognised Houses and Clans of Great Britain. She didn't need to know it since it was the kind of thing that only mattered in certain circles. But in a House like Slytherin, showing such ignorance was inadvisable.
Luckily, their dorm was a safe space.
"He's bragged but there's no proof of that. He doesn't wear the ring. Since Sirius Black was disowned, his little brother went missing and Lord Arcturus Black didn't announce a new heir publicly before dying, we're not too sure. He's the most likely to inherit though."
"But if he's dead, shouldn't the inheritor be in his will?" asked Lixian.
"Not if the Lord delayed the reading of the will."
"Why would he do that?"
Mafalda shrugged.
"Could be any reason."
The discussion lasted until midnight. After that, they collectively decided to go to bed. They wanted to be well-rested for the match. The next morning, Mafalda greeted her friends and let Felix lead them towards good seats at the breakfast table.
"Are you coming to see the match?" she asked Harry who was seating three chairs away from her.
He nodded. "I'll be rooting for Cedric though," he said with a crooked grin.
"His House pride suddenly shrivels up every time he has to look at Malfoy's stupid mug," joked Blaise.
Harry laughed.
He looked a lot more relaxed now that his cousin was up and walking again. Mafalda spared a guilty thought for Ginny, who hadn't come out as hale from the whole Slytherin heir debacle. While the two girls weren't close, she still worried for her second cousin. She heard Hogwarts was paying for the expenses of her treatment at St Mungo's, which was a relief, but it didn't seem to have any effect so far. Last she heard, the healers were stumped. Mafalda dearly hoped she wouldn't have to drop out. It would crush Aunt Molly.
"Are you going, Blaise?"
She knew Lixian and Priam were planning to go see professor Kettleburn's kneazles instead and Fawley – and her boyfriend who, despite being a quidditch lover, clearly was more interested in making up for lost time than watching his former team – had promised to accompany them but she hadn't heard about the others' plans.
The Italian prince shook his head. "Theo and I are meeting Luna Lovegood. They're going to debate the existence of – what was it again?"
"Glomping plimpies," said Nott while cutting through his omelette like this was a perfectly reasonable to say.
"Yeah, that. And I'm going to sit back and watch."
He said it like he was genuinely looking forward to the prospect. Mafalda tried not to react too much but something must have slipped out because the second years laughed at her good-naturedly.
"Luna's an interesting girl," said Harry. "I can't wait to hear about it."
Mafalda understood why Harry got along with the Weasley twins.
The second-years were cool, but they were also crazy people.
Slytherin lost the match.
Harry let out a disgusted sigh as they returned to the common room. The corridors were still empty, all the other students having returned to the castle a little earlier. He'd stayed behind to help Poppy with Miles Bletchley. The Slytherin keeper received a bludger to the head and dislocated his knee, which probably didn't help the team keep up their score even before Hufflepuff caught the snitch.
He was happy for Cedric of course. But he was also angry that his position on the team had been traded for brooms that hadn't even helped.
"That was tragic," commented Tracey.
"Right?"
"Malfoy's gonna be so mad."
"I know."
"Especially since Cedric smiled at you."
"He did? I didn't notice."
Adrian hummed in agreement. "It wasn't for very long. He probably didn't want to remind people you'd trained together. But I think Malfoy saw it."
Harry sighed. "Great. At least he won't have time to find a way to make me pay for that. We're leaving tomorrow."
He was really looking forward to being home.
Finally, the spring holidays were upon them. He didn't have any plans for them, aside from speed-learning Italian in preparation for his trip to Mezzogiorno and attending a few social functions to remind people his House wasn't extinct. It would be restful in comparison with the last few months.
Avril'uzn of the Kuzhdne clan contemplated her correspondence, her clawed finger tapping on the lie-name addressing her. Her lips quirked as she traced the word "Darkclaw" painstakingly written in goblin script.
"Cheeky boy," she murmured with an amused smile.
He was perfectly aware that lie-names weren't used in goblin language but he seemed to find it funny to write hers in an approximate translation.
Maybe she should tell him her true name.
"Is it little Potter? He's sending the pebble over today, isn't he?"
Avril'uzn glanced at Ghradim, who was assisting her in choosing the best investments for the Potter accounts. His judgement was invaluable; in his capacity of Griphook the goblin teller, he listened in and interpreted staggering amounts of information on the state of affairs of wixen and picked and chose which account manager would benefit from his advice. That a teller had chosen her at all was not surprising. She was good at her job and kept the keys of a goblin-friend.
But being chosen by Ghradim in particular was an honour. He had the keenest ear in his profession and was one of the nephews of the Rhok of the Kuzhdne clan, the director of the bank. Considering that their clan made up thirty per cent of the goblins working at Gringotts, that gave him a significant amount of influence. The fact that he used it to work at ground level rather than in the depths was still subject to gossip within the clan.
"His sisters are sending him, yes. I already asked Soldhur to bring him here."
Ghradim's lip curled. "In a bag. Wixen have such strange ideas."
She shrugged. "I'd rather be carried in a bag than spend another day as a magic-sick in a House like Carrow."
She grimaced at the phrase she used for squibs in Kho'bl-guk, the tongue of her people. It didn't have an equivalent. The concept itself puzzled Avril'uzn greatly. For goblin-kind, like many types of faeries, being without magic was unthinkable. It ran through every fibre of their body, sang from the gems that decorated their skins and their homes, and gathered in their mouths for each breath they took. A magicless goblin was a dead goblin.
They had thought humans and wixen to be different species for a long time because of the assumption that this was the same for the latter. Discovering that some of them were born either totally human or unable to access their core was startling for her race.
"As do I. Still, they baffle me. Rierh is a good sort though," he said, using the name their king had bestowed upon Harry Potter when he was born. They would share it with him when he came to pay his respects to the royal clan upon his fourteenth birthday. Avril'uzn only regretted that the boy's parents wouldn't be there to see it. A name bestowal ceremony could only be shared with immediate family.
She remembered when little James was given the name Kwharn, "tenacious" in their language. He'd asked her why he needed another name and laughed when she replied that you could never have too many, lest a fae steals a few from an unsuspecting little wizard.
"Children usually are when they're not being poisoned by their parents," she commented.
"True enough. So what's our pebble saying?"
"He's thanking me again."
"Because you offered to house the Carrow pebble for a month rather than a day?"
The Achilles Carrow situation was something she normally wouldn't involve herself in. She might dislike wixen but the magicless humans sometimes disgusted her more. Goblinkind was told as pebbles how it used to be like, roaming the land when religion made the people fearful and violent. Not that her people roamed much anywhere but some clans used to migrate seasonally between goblin dwellings until the fear of being decimated had them staying put.
Even now humans dried up the lands' resources and her king had had to create an entire division dedicated to limiting the damage they did to the depths their people dwelled in without their finding out.
Wixen did many wrongs to her people but the Statute of Secrecy was not one of them.
She hummed. "He knows what it would mean for our nation if someone were to find out."
Ghradim laughed.
"Our king would thank you. He's been itching to remind British wixenfolk the respect we are due."
Avril'uzn thought about reminding him how the other parts of their nation would be impacted if they were to be so reckless as to declare war on the British Ministry of Magic. The International Federation of Wixen might have turned a blind eye to the last Dark Lord but they probably wouldn't do the same for a goblin rebellion.
In the end, she decided against it. Besides, Ghradim liked Rierh too much to truly desire such a thing. Avril'uzn had high hopes for the time the boy finally took his father's ring from his finger and his rightful seat in the Wizengamot.
He didn't have the political ambition of Beatrice Potter but he definitely had the will to right wrongs as he saw them. With the support of his entourage, he might just be able to accomplish great things. And if the Black House's account manager was to be believed… ah, better not to speculate.
Avril'uzn had hopes for the new generation. She could hear the chimes of change in the air.
That was something she would like to nurture.
An amethyst lit up on her wall.
She stood up from her seat, stretching her sleepy limbs.
"Ah, here he comes. Now, what do humans eat again?"